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daughterofcain-67 · 25 days

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊 (𝔭𝔱.1)

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: (Right after Season 10 Episode 4) Sam and Dean have recently resumed hunting again after taking a short hiatus, then a phone call from Jody Mills peaks their interest and they want to make sure she’s alright. Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of adjusting to your new life, unfortunately your old life has a funny way of effecting you as a human.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: graphic implications and imagery of gore, violence, blood, mostly canon level but may not be suitable for all audiences.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the first chapter of a sequel to Raised in Blood, an MOC!Dean x Daughter of Cain/Demon reader fic. If you have not read that fanfiction first I suggest you do to understand what is happening in this first chapter and how Dean and the reader know each other. I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Previously…

“You aren’t staying.. are you?” Dean asked softly.

“You know that I can’t…”

“Y/N, those things I said.. None of that was all me. Being a demon changed almost everything about me. Honestly I don’t even think before I turned you and I even had a chance to really learn about each other.”

“Then how much of it really was you, Dean? Tell me? Was it the sleeping around with other girls? Was it the anger you felt when I was trying to look out for you? What was it?”

“That night was real… the moments before the battle with station were real when you were telling me about what the mark would do to me, those were real. When I thanked you for staying when Sam and I were split up, that was real.”

You shook your head. “It may have been real for a moment. But like you said, you and I didn’t have the time to really learn. All of this has been nothing but a scrambled mess and there was nothing solid for us.”

“If you go out there, it will be a lot more dangerous. You’re human now and there’s a lot more than just the First Blade that can kill you now.” Dean said, and you could detect the very same thing that he argued with you about - worry.

“Dean? I’ll be okay. I’ve had several centuries if not millennia of experience in combat. Plus I have this.” You said an you held out your arm. “You know it won’t let me die.”

You saw Dean frown for a moment and you sighed before you took a hand of his.

“I have to leave, Dean. I told your brother that I would help you with your mark. I’ve not been much help before you became a demon throughout this entire journey. You’re still stuck with the mark, and the cycle will continue for you if we can’t friend a way to free you from the burden. Now that you’re free from being a demon, it’s time to finally hold up my end of the bargain and see what I can do.”

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. Then he took one of your hands. Then he handed you his favorite pistol. He didn’t mind so much parting with it oddly enough. Especially when they had their own arsenal at the bunker.

“If I don’t see you again.. keep this. I know we may not have had the best time but… I do want you to have at least something good from this ordeal.”

You nodded as you started to go up the stairs where you saw Sam drinking some coffee. He deserved some downtime after a long several months of looking for Dean.

You walked over to Sam and you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Look into the Book of the Damned.”

Now

Struggling to catch his breath while running as fast as his legs could carry him, Mikey was running as if his life depended on it. Mostly because it did depend on it .

Mikey had come across a lot of hunters in his day as a vampire but he had never seen anything this gruesome. He’d never seen someone act so ruthless, no one that refused to listen to reason. Never in his several decades of living as a vampire had he been so petrified. He was lucky he was even alive in this very moment.

He remembered the last few hours and he didn’t understand how things lead up to this. He had just gotten off work at a factory around midnight since work had started night shifts. He was hungry and it was easier for him to feed at night, naturally. But his nest had just had a big haul of animal load so he was just planning on returning home rather than being risky by going to a farm outside of town.

Besides, they had their own farm after all, he just needed to get home first. And finally, he did.

As Mikey returned to his ‘family’s’ farm, however, he caught the scent of something unfamiliar. Something human.

He thought that one human was no big deal. That the other fangs would be able to get this human taken care of especially if it was a hunter. They didn’t need any kind of trouble on their hands.

But instead, Mikey saw something that completely terrified him.

Outside of the house there were the bodies of his friends, Shane and Rory. They were headless, a sure sign that a hunter must’ve been there. But it was behind just a simple beheading. Mikey looked at the two corpses and saw several stab wounds to their chest. Mikey could smell dead man’s blood and he knew they must’ve been poisoned. Then, to the side, he saw an axe beside his two deceased friends, the blade was bloody.

Mikey thought it was a bit of overkill even for a hunter, but at least his friends seemed to have put up some kind of fight. Still, seeing Rory and Shane in this state made Mikey go queasy.

As Mikey walked further into the home he walked into a living room splattered with blood as if it had been some kind of horror scene. More of his friends, his family, were practically butchered inhumanely. Heads and bodies were severed, the furniture in disarray. But then Mikey could hear the commotion coming from upstairs.

With a gulp, Mikey made his way up the stairs and he saw a figure wearing a black hooded jacket. The figure seemed to look like a woman, so he was shocked that she seemed to be the only human in the house. He thought the nest was more than capable of handling one human, especially one that seemed so small as this person seemed to be.

But the moment that Mikey saw this human take her knife that looked liked it was dipped in dead man’s blood and the killer stabbed the leader in the beach so many times. Rather than killing the leader in one blow with a machete or an axe, this death seemed to take longer as the human stabbed his leader’s neck repeatedly until he was fully decapitated. The scene made Mikey want to vomit.

As he took a step backward, the floor creaked and that was his giveaway. He saw a pair of darkened, vicious eyes of a killer looking back at him. And that was when Mikey took off.

Mikey feared for his life and hoped he wouldn’t be found by this killer, but he was severely mistaken.

The roar of a motorcycle’s engine echoed through the forest and he heard a gunshot. The next thing he knew, Mikey fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder and he felt this intense pain, burning and he knew it was dead man’s blood. This hunter had come more than prepared.

As Mikey knelt on the ground, trying to find some sort of stick or something to dig the bullet out of his shoulder he heard the motorcycle come to a stop. Then he heard footsteps coming up behind him. When Mikey looked up, he saw the hunter standing over him, this time with a machete in her hand.

“I think I’ve had my fill for the night.”

That was the last thing Mikey heard before his head was severed off his shoulders, freeing him from this horrific nightmare.

Dean found himself in some large house, two stories, as if it belonged to some blue-collar respectable family. There were toys scattered about, trains and race cars and some of those mega blocks.

The pictures on the walls revealed that a family of four lived here. Husband and wife, and their two sons but they must’ve had a little girl on the way as one of the photos indicated some sort of baby shower. It seemed to be a sweet little family, at that only made the situation even more tragic.

As Dean desperately searched around the house to see if there were any survivors, he realized he was too late.

He peeked into the childrens’ room and saw they had been brutally murdered. Their little intestines splayed out of the boys’ bodies as they laid in a pool of their mixed blood. Then Dean ran into the master bedroom and saw that the married couple were nothing but a couple of corpses lying together on their bed. Their bodies mutilated much like the two boys.

As Dean searched the house for any sign of a monster, demon, or any other unnatural intruder. But as he looked he caught a glimpse of a masculine figure running past the hall. When Dean chased after it through, he came across a mirror and saw an image of himself with a sickening grin.

“Oh what the Hell is this?” Dean said, not having the time for these games but then a voice spoke, one that was his own and yet it wasn’t Dean speaking himself.

“Don’t you get it? You did this.” The demon said in the mirror and his eyes turned black.

“What? No i didn’t. I was on a hunt! Something else killed this family.” Dean argued and the demon version of himself smirked.

“Look down at your hands.” The vile thing insisted.

Dean hesitated before he lifted his hands from his sides so he could look down at them and sure enough, they were covered in blood. The same blood that belonged to this poor innocent family.

“No… I won’t go dark side again. I won’t let it happen.” Dean swore as he started to wipe the blood on the sleeves of his jacket, but the demon laughed almost maniacally.

“You can’t stop it. You accepted this curse, now you have to live with it. And you don’t even have anyone that can help you through it anymore.” The demon said and Dean instantly knew who he was talking about.

“How do you know she’s not in danger now? Maybe the mark will kill her if she hasn’t given into the mark’s urges yet. Maybe she’ll turn into a demon all over again because you didn’t urge her to stay.” The demon taunted.

“She will fall into the same darkness as you will. And there will be nothing either of you can do to stop it.”

Dean woke up in a cold sweat and it felt like his arm was being engulfed in flames. He had yet another nightmare, but he was no longer surprised at getting those anymore. He looked around his surroundings and realized he was in some low quality hotel room, remembering he and Sam had just completed a werewolf case.

The weird thing was the case nightmare Dean woke up from had nothing to do with this werewolf case. But the dream still felt all too real.

Ever since you left for whatever your reasons were, Dean started having nightmares about losing that control. He didn’t want to go down that demonic path again, couldn’t stomach the thought of it. He didn’t want to harm anymore people than he already did when he was a demon. The whole point of this job was to save people after all, yet Dean genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he saved someone’s life.

“You okay, Dean?” Dean heard his brother ask.

Dean lifted his head and saw Sam was already up and about. From the looks of it he had taken his shower- must’ve finished his morning run already.

“How long have you been up?” Dean asked and sat up with a groan.

“Since about five this morning. Early bird catches the worm you know.” Sam advised and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Whoever made up that bullshit can kiss my ass.”

Sam only laughed at his brother’s grumpy words but he couldn’t help but notice the was Dean put a hand over the mark. It had been six weeks since you had left and it didn’t look like it was for the better. Not on Dean’s part anyway. They had taken those several weeks and decided to take a little break from hunting up until this point.

“By the way… I got a call from Jody.” Sam said, trying to think of some way to distract Dean for a moment. He heard Dean let out a hum and took it as a sign to continue.

“She said that there was some sort of indescribable killings going on where she’s at. She doesn’t think it’s a demon, vampire, werewolf or something basic like that otherwise she would have it handled.” Sam disclosed and Dean lifted his head.

“How indescribable are we talking? It might not even be our kind of thing. What makes you think Jody needs our help with it?” Dean questioned with a hint of skepticism.

“Well… from what she said it looked like a massacre. We’re talking severed heads and from what she said the vics seemed to be vampires. But the way they were killed, she didn’t sound so sure if it was just a hunter going overboard or if it’s a creature with a vendetta and a heaping load of bloodlust.” Sam explained

“Well I guess we’d better be on our way. Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve seen her.” Dean agreed as he swung his legs over the side of the hotel mattress.

Sam watched as his brother gathered his belongings and he still wondered if Dean was really okay. Was the mark still continuing to bother him more than he let on? Of course it must’ve been. It was Dean! He wasn’t exactly known for sharing his burdens, and in the moments he did share, it was after Sam practically pried them out of him.

Still, Sam had to take your words to heart when you told him to look into what’s known as The Book of the Damned. But so far he was coming up with nothing, and in truth he wasn’t even sure where he should look first. It sounded like some sort of spell book, so maybe Crowley would know something about it, or maybe if they had a stroke of luck they would come across a witch that would know something about the book.

Sam still had some concerns about Dean hunting too. He knew Dean had been itching to get back into the hunting game again and Sam was initially hesitant about letting him on this case when it came to Kate. Dean had already almost killed Kate before they discovered she wasn’t the only werewolf on the case. Sam noticed that Dean seemed almost willing to do whatever he could to kill the werewolves and ignore the grey areas. At least that was the initial before Sam managed to talk Dean down and sort of negotiate with him at least for this case.

“Hey, if this thing with Jody ends up being something bigger than we think it is… maybe we should go back to the bunker. In the end it really could be nothing. But there’s always that slim chance.” Sam spoke.

Dean opened the door but when he heard his brother speaking, he turned around, “What, and leave Jody hangin’ like that? Hell no. We find out what the Hell is going on and we get it taken care of before something happens to Jody if she gets wrapped up in something worse than just a crazy hunter.”

Sam’s lips pressed into a thin line as he followed Dean out of the door and they began their drive to meet up with their friend.

Dean started the ignition of the Impala and of course the speakers blared the classic rock he listened to all the time despite Sam’s protests. As they drove, Dean tried his best to just focus on the road but his mind started to wander off again to that nightmare.

“Dean… on the hunt, on one of those drives… I know that you don’t really want to talk much about the mark and it’s hard for you to cope with, but you said that some parts of it were embarrassing. Do you still remember everything when you were a demon? You said the whole getting along with Crowley thing was embarrassing but… but what about…”

“Y/N?” Dean asked, knowing that Sam must’ve been itching to bring you up for the longest time, even though he was dreading it.

“Yeah. Y/N… are you ashamed of her or something? Like you are about your time with Crowley?”

Dean began to remember the night in Montana. He remembered the night you were initially trying to convince him to be partnered up with Crowley. A part of him wanted to be mad at you for getting him wrapped up with Crowley in the first place. That night started off as a negotiation tactic but he still remembered how you made it to where the mark didn’t hurt as much, remembered how you soothed it. He remembered your mixed feelings about the negotiations and he remembered that he was the one that told you to relax and it lead you to a night Dean would never forget, even if it would end up being nothing but a fling for you.

Then Dean began to remember the day you betrayed him, or at least the demon he became. He remembered the urge he had to kill you because of the hurt he felt because of what you had done. But now that he was human again, he knew you were only trying to help him out, do what was best so he wouldn’t get himself even deeper into trouble. Then there was the night in the bunker when he was chasing both you and Sam. He remembered all of the awful things he said to you out of his hurt.

But the moment he saw how much pain you were in, after he finally became human again, it killed Dean to see you going through that immense amount of pain. He remembered the tears of blood streaming from your eyes in the transition as he urged you to let go of everything that happened in those several months you spent together. Dean had to admit that he hated seeing you in such a condition but once you were human, he was glad it was over for you.

Ever since Dean changed back to being a human though, he tried not to think too much about what happened. He tried not to think so much about the attachment he had to you, and he told himself that he only felt the way that he did because of the stupid mark on his arm. He told himself that the moment he and Sam found a way to get rid of it, whatever he felt for you would finally go away. But despite what he told himself, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were okay, wonder if you were safe, if her were learning how to take care of yourself now that you were human.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice broke his train of thought and he tried to remember the question.

“No, I’m not embarrassed with what happened with her.” Dean said, hoping Sam would drop this sooner rather than later.

“Do you still think about her?” Sam continued.

“I try not to. After she left, I figure it’s better to just forget about her. As much as I can anyway. She doesn’t want anything to do with us anyway, isn’t that why she left?” Dean reminded.

“I don’t know about that…” Sam muttered to himself and Dean rolled his eyes before he turned up the radio.

Several hours went by and they finally made it to South Dakota and the two brothers made it to the sheriff’s office. Naturally the two of them were dressed in their monkey suits and Dean was the first to walk through the doors. Sheriff Mills as already inside and one of the officers gave her a little nudge and the woman glanced over just to see both Sam and Dean there.

She smiled at the both of them and started walking in their direction before greeting them.

“Hey there, Boys. Good to see you the both of you.” She grinned and hugged the both of them.

“Hey Jody.” Dean smiled and she pulled away before she handed Dean the file she was holding in her hands.

“These are pictures that CSI took when they got to the scene. They’re kind of gruesome.” She warned.

“We see gruesome stuff every day. I think we can handle it.” Sam commented as Dean opened up the file. Quickly, Sam took back his words when he saw the photos.

“Holy cow-“ Dean said as he looked at all of the bodies with the severed heads, the stab wounds. It was like a blood bath. A horror scene really, even for him to look at.

“When did this happen?” Sam asked as he looked at the sheriff once again.

“A couple of nights ago. No one was left alive. But from what I’m understanding when I looked at some of the bodies, they had fangs. Obviously the coroner didn’t know to look for something like that. Either way, this kind of thing is malicious and I didn’t know who to call other than the two of you. Is there any way a monster did this? I’d hate to think a hunter did this to such an extreme.”

“I’m not too sure of any hunters that would go to such an extreme, Jody. Dean and I will look into the case and see if they had some kind of enemies. Did any of these people have enemies? I mean other than hunters of course.” Sam said and Jodi shrugged.

“They seemed to be fairly normal. I didn’t even think they were vampires. They were pretty civil, kept a low profile. I know they never murdered anyone, must’ve used animal blood to live off of since we hadn’t heard of any murders until now. They were on a farm after all so it’s not like they were stealing animals from another person’s farm. They seemed self sufficient and didn’t cause problems for the community. That’s why I was shocked when I found out that the whole farm was nothing but a vampire nest. I haven’t made any connections to see who would have been their enemies.” Jody sighed.

Dean continued to look at the pictures. He had never heard of a hunter going ballistic like this, well maybe other than himself. But then he thought about the dreams he had. What if you had something to do with this? What if the mark as affecting you and you fell sooner than you thought you would. Maybe you couldn’t handle the side effects as a human.

Dean’s jaw tightened as he closed the file and looked at Sam and Jody as they talked, “What about outside of town? Have there been any suspicious newcomers that you can think of? Any businesses outside of town that your victim’s may have had any sort of trouble with?”

“I’m still trying to look into it. No newcomers to my knowledge, but as for any businesses like competing farms, I’m not so sure. But not all the family members worked on the farm. Some of them had other careers and we’re looking into other branches or businesses that may have been rubbed the wrong way by one of the family members.”

“Let Sammy and I handle that part of it. I’m sure you’ve already got enough on your plate as it is, being sheriff and all.” Dean insisted.

“Well, before the two of you go head first into it, why don’t you both come to my place? Have some grub? I’m sure it’s been a long drive.” Jody suggested and Dean smiled a little.

“Sure, we’d appreciate that a lot.” He said and Sam agreed.

Jody told her officers that she was going home and if they needed anything from her, she would be on call. With that, Sam and Dean left with Jodi and they followed her back to her home.

Once the three of them pulled up and got out of their cars, they made it to the front door and Jody unlocked the front door and let the two hunters into the house first before she walked in as well and shut the door behind her. There, Alex was lounging on the couch once the three of them walked in.

“Jody, you’re back.” Alex beamed but then she saw both Sam and Dean with her, it was as if her eyes lit up.

Alex got up and she walked over to Jody, “You should have at least given some kind of heads up. I would have made dinner if I knew we were having guests.”

“Don’t worry about it, Alex. Why don’t we just order a pizza or something? Won’t have to worry about dishes or anything.” Jody suggested with a chuckle and Alex just grinned and nodded before she went to the kitchen to make a phone call for the pizza.

“Hey, Jody? Is it alright if I get our normal clothes so Sam and I can change out of these Fed suits?” Dean asked and Jody smiled.

“Have at it.” Jody insisted and Dean walked out of the door. Then the woman turned to Sam.

“So… how is he doing? Last I heard he had some mark you told me about?” Jody asked after Dean shut the door to get the flannels.

Sam looked up at Jody and he sighed and nodded a little before he began to speak. “The whole Mark if Cain thing is just this big can of worms we spilt all over the place. So much has happened with him and the damned thing and now I wish he never accepted the mark.”

“Is he still in bad shape?” She asked. Sam shrugged a little.

“Right now it’s kind of hard to tell… Seriously, a lot of unthinkable has happened. Dean and I were helping our friend Castiel look for Metatron but Cas and I were worried about how the mark was affecting Dean. The whole reason he got the damned thing was to kill Metatron but it was starting to get to him. He was quickly becoming more violent and so Cas and I were looking into a person that could help. And we did.”

“Oh yeah? Well who was that?” Jody asked.

“Well, her name is Y/N. She uh… She also has the mark because she is the direct descendant of Cain, his daughter in fact.” Sam explained and Jody’s eyes went wide.

“Cain? As in Cain and Abel? And he has a daughter?”

“Yeah… what’s even better was that the last demon Dean killed, Abaddon? That was her mother. But surprisingly she’s the most unusual demon Dean and I have ever met.”

“Seems a little sketchy to me.”

“I don’t blame you for thinking that… but anyways, She was trying to help maintain Dean’s urges in killing, but after a fight with Metatron, Dean… well he died and came back to life as a demon because of the mark.He disappeared with Crowley and Y/N for several months, I think Y/N was mostly there for supervision then things went wrong and Crowley betrayed Dean, he and Y/N had a falling out, so they contacted me and with Castiel’s help we found a cure for Dean and we turned him back into a human.” Sam said.

Jody’s eyes went wide, trying to think of a way to possibly take everything in, “Wow… and what about Y/N?”

“Y/N.. welll shockingly she wanted to be there at the bunker to support Dean and get him back to being human. And once that happened… she asked me to turn her into a human with the same cure. It worked and now she’s human and… well she left.”

“A demon. A demon asked you to make her human? That is weird. Even for the two of you. How do you know she’s trustworthy?”

“Trust me, Jody… If you met her, you may even like her. Even if she was a demon once.” Sam vouched for you.

“And Dean? How is he holding up after being changed into a human again?” She asked and Sam bit his lip a little.

“Honestly I don’t know. He’s on edge but he refuses to talk that much about it. He is a little antsy, when he kills a monster, it’s close to overkill. I think we should have asked Y/N to stay because when she was around, she was sort of like a harness, some sort of way for Dean to direct his urges on the right things at least.”

Jody lifted a brow and crossed one leg over the other as she listened, “Sounds like the two of them had some sort of weird chemistry. How’s Dean holding up with her leaving?”

“He prefers not to talk about it. She’s human now and he’s all about the whole not wanting to get her into more trouble I guess. He’s just in a weird spot I guess. I think he just doesn’t want to go down that dark of a road again.” Sam admitted.

“Yeah… guess I can understand that.” She agreed but then she heard the door open up and Dean walked through.

Dean shut the door behind him and tossed Sam his clothes before Jody directed Dean to the bathroom to go change. Then Jody turned to Sam once more.

“Whatever he’s going through, I think you may need to consider finding her again. A guy like Dean doesn’t deserve to go down that road all over again.”

St. Paul, Minnesota.

You could feel the wind in your hair was your rollerblades carried you through town. You had taken a break from the tattoo career and decided you didn’t want to go back home to Cincinnati. Instead, you were traveling and learning new things. Sure you could have rented or even bought a different mode of transportation and you knew at one point you needed to insider it, but you wanted to explore on foot for a while, see how other people in your condition coped. Be a little nomadic for a while.

For the most part, traveling had been a good enough distraction from what you were deep down. After all, just because you were human now didn’t mean it got rid of all the skeletons in your closet. You still had a cross to bear and you were still trying to find a way to cope with certain urges.

So far you had ridden a train for the first time, which was how you got from Sam and Dean’s bunker to South Dakota, then you decided to hike to Minnesota, which was why you were here. People were interesting to say the least, you were learning a lot about humans. Some were kind, some were not so kind, others were outrageously hateful, and the ones few and far between were like saints.

You continued to skate around but then you could hear some distinct shouting. “Hey, look out!

The next thing you knew you crashed onto the ground but rather than feeling the hard concrete of the sidewalk beneath you, you felt something hard beneath cloth. When you opened your eyes and looked down, you realized you crashed into a man.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed and you got off him and tried to get up without rolling over his fingers or toes.

“Oh no, it’s fine. Accidents happen all the time.” The stranger said as he got up and dusted himself off and he looked at you. You were shorter than him even with the skates and he looked down at you.

“Are you alright? You aren’t hurt are you?” You asked, feeling so flushed, embarrassed. Feelings that were new to you but they were happening more often and you found it happened when you weren’t so cautious.

“Trust me, I’m alright.” The man chuckled and smiled at you. His eyes were a deep brown like his hair, he had some stubble but it suited him well. He was cute, you had to admit.

“Again, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” You questioned, honestly feeling so terrible but you were thankful that the man seemed pretty forgiving for the most part.

“Well, I suppose you could… accompany me to dinner tonight? I was on my way to find somewhere to go before I was crashed into.” He smirked, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans and you were stunned he was asking you to dinner, but you supposed it was the least you could do. Plus, you were starting to get hungry. Sometimes it was challenging maintaining a human body when it hungered.

“Well if we’re going out to dinner, don’t you think we should at least know each other’s names?” You questioned and he let out a little chuckle.

“Gotcha. Well, my name’s Ricky. And what might your name be?”

“Y/N.” You replied with a grin and he smiled back at you. It was a charming little grin so you couldn’t complain.

“Y/N… beautiful name. So, do you have some normal shoes to wear if we’re going out to dinner?” Ricky asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got some in my backpack. I just need someplace to sit so I can put them on.” You insisted and Ricky nodded and he walked with you to a bench close by his car. You sat down and started taking off the roller blades. You took your tennis shoes from your backpack and put them on your feet and when you put your roller blades away, you stood up and Ricky started walking with you to the car.

Ricky was a gentleman, at least that was your first impression, and he opened up the car door for you. You thanked him and got inside the car. Then when Ricky started the car, he started driving off.

“So, how long have you been rollerblading?” Ricky asked as he hopped onto the road.

“Not long. Maybe a few weeks. Trying to pick up new hobbies. I’m not really that good, barely know how to use the breaks on these things.” You laughed and Ricky just grinned.

“Hey, it’s good to try something new. And you’ll get better with practice.” He said and you shrugged a little.

“I may pawn these off. Maybe I can get a few bucks off these before I head out of town.”

“Out of town?” Ricky asked, your statement peaking his interest and you nodded a little.

“Yeah… I’m a bit of a traveler.”

“Oh yeah? Where all have you gone?” Ricky continued.

“I’ve just come from South Dakota, hiked from there to here. I’m from Cincinnati but after a falling out with a certain group of people I’m… trying to find myself. So I figure traveling around may be the way to go at least for the time being.” You admitted and Ricky lifted a brow.

“You thought traveling around like some kind of vagabond would be a good idea? You must be awfully brave.” He said, “You know some people think that’s really dangerous. People get killed like that.”

“Trust me, I’m more than capable of handling myself.” You insisted, although you were now hating just what you were capable of. Something about the human conscience.

“I see… well, just be careful. You never know what kind of people are out there.” Ricky advised.

“Thanks for the advice.” You said and Ricky grinned.

“So.. what are you in the mood for? My treat.” He insisted and you glanced over at him.

“But… I’m the one that ran into you, shouldn’t it be my treat?” You said with confusion.

“No, you’re paying me back by being my company, remember?” He reminded you and you smiled.

“Well… I’m not that sure of where to go. I don’t really know of many good places here so your guess is as good as mine.”

“Well, why don’t we try Mexican?” He suggested and you nodded.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You agreed and not long after the decision was made, the two of you found a spot and Ricky parked his car in one of the parking spots. He opened the door for you once more and you thanked him before stepping out of the vehicle.

You and Ricky walked inside and the hostess lead you both to a booth where the two of you sat and continued a conversation. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, for a stranger.

“So, Ricky. What’s a guy like you doing asking strange rollerblading girls out to dinner?” You asked with a little grin and Ricky hummed a little.

“Actually, I’m sort of on a road trip myself with some friends of mine. We’re on our way to New York. I have a friend who’s a Broadway fanatic and he invited me and some other friends to come along. We’re coming from Montana and we stopped here to take a bit of a break from driving.” Ricky explained and you lifted a brow.

“Broadway, huh? What are guys planning on watching?” You asked.

“I think it’s called Little Shop of Horrors? Something about some man eating plant. I don’t think it will be my kind of thing since I’m not really a theatre kind of guy but hey, gives me something to do. It’s New York after all. Not every day you get to go.” He said and you nodded.

“Sounds like a fun adventure. I hope you and your friends have a great time.” You insisted.

“Yeah, me too. We’re headed out tomorrow morning.” He insisted and you hummed a little, but then one of the waiters came by to take your order. When the both of you placed your orders the waiter left yet again.

“So what sort of falling out did you have, if you don’t mind me asking? I mean you couldn’t have just woken up one day and decided to leave everything behind.” You heard Ricky say and you looked down at your drink, stirring the straw around.

“It’s… kind of a long story.” You admitted.

“I’ve got all night, and we may never see each other again so any secrets you’ve got are practically safe with me.” He pointed out and you supposed he was right about that.

“Well… when I lived in Cincinnati I was a tattoo artist. Had my own business and I was doing fine for about four years. Then these couple of guys came to my door and practically changed my life. They were brothers and they needed my help with something for their job. After I did what I could I kind of stuck around and one of them, named Dean, well he got into some serious trouble. He needed some help and I had experience in what he was struggling with and I was trying to make sure he wasn’t digging a grave for himself if he insisted on staying on the path he was on.” You said.

“Path? Was it like a drug problem or something?” He asked.

“Something like that. An addiction of sorts I guess. Anyway, it was killing him in a way but when he finally decided he didn’t want my help, I turned him over to his brother, Sam. After that, Dean was able to get better and things got squared away on his end. Then I decided to leave. For my sake I think it was better if I just left.” You sighed.

“What makes you say that? Was Dean an asshole or something? Did you have some kind of fling or something other complication?” He asked and you let out a bitter chuckle.

“You must be good at guessing… Yeah, we had a fling. It only happened one time, but a few nights before I left completely there was this argument we had and that’s what caused the falling out. He didn’t want my help anymore, so that was when I turned him over to Sam. It was better off that way.” You sighed and Ricky let out a hum.

“You sound like you don’t completely believe that.”

“I do,” You insisted, “but there are times when I wonder if I should have gone back to Ohio. Then again they knew where my shop was and I didn’t exactly want Sam or Dean to find me.”

“Ahh… that.. sort of makes a little sense? I guess?” He said unconvincingly, but that was when Ricky’s phone started ringing.

“Excuse me, I have to take this call.” He said and you nodded in understanding as he excused himself.

Several moments passed by after he excused himself to go outside and you started to grow worried. Had Ricky really ditched you? He seemed like a really nice guy so you hoped that wasn’t the case. But you supposed you could never know with certain strangers. Suddenly, out of nowhere came a bloodcurdling cry.

Someone ran inside and when you looked over, a woman was running through the front door of the restaurant.

“Someone call an ambulance! A man was attacked outside!” She exclaimed.

You stood up and ran out of the door, knowing you weren’t the only one that went to the door to see what happened. However, you were one of the first ones there and you saw Ricky there in a pool of his own blood, his chest ripped open and his intestines were on the ground. You head a few gagging noises and more screams of people that were’t used to seeing such a sight, but you. Scanned the area for anyone suspicious.

Then, you caught a glimpse of someone dressed in black running away. You took it upon yourself to run after the person and they saw you running, chasing them. The culprit started running faster and faster and you picked up your own speed just to follow them down some sort of alley.. When you did, they were cornered.

This person you could tell wasn’t anyone good. You knew they had something to do with Ricky’s death. Something deep inside you was beginning to cloud your mind, as much as you were trying to keep it at bay. The mark on your arm began to burn, giving you that thirst for bloodlust you had been doing so well at maintaining.

You slowly stepped forward, pulling out a knife from your jacket, “Now why would you go and ruin a perfectly good date. He was just a guy on the phone.”

“A wolf’s gotta eat you know. And I’m more than happy to claim seconds.” The creature said as its eyes changed color, fingernails turning to claws, teeth becoming fangs.

When the beast lunged forward, you got cut on your cheek. Of come it stung like Hell but no wasn’t the time to be fascinated by the fact you didn’t heal automatically. You felt that darkness overtake you and you started fighting back despite the werewolf’s inhuman strength and you used the blade, stabbing it in the heart.

It cried out and it fell to the side and you moved to where you were straddling it. You lifted the knife over your head and started stabbing the creature repeatedly in the chest, wanting to make sure it was gone for good.

What made you stop was the voices coming closer, asking if they heard some kind of commotion. You looked down at the blood on your hands, knowing this wouldn’t be good. You collected your composure before you ran off into the night, knowing that this would be an area you couldn’t visit again.

As you were running into the night, the smallest part of you wondered if you made a mistake by leaving Sam and Dean. You wondered if this adjustment would be too much to handle. After all, this was your first kill in weeks, what if things got worse and you found yourself turning into a murderer again? You wondered if you should risk the call.

As you ran through the woods, you found a cabin. You hoped it was abandoned and you rushed towards it. You peeked inside the windows and realized it didn’t look like anyone had been there in a long time. So you went to the back door to see if it was locked and luckily for you, it wasn’t. So you went inside and hoped you could lie low here at least for the night.

You collapsed on the couch and lied there, then you started to think of the feelings you had when you killed the werewolf.

These new feelings you were having were making you feel sick to your stomach at the fact that a part of you, the deepest and darkest part of you enjoyed the kill.

But it wasn’t human. The thing you killed was evil! It would have killed other unsuspecting humans just to eat their hearts. You did what a hunter would do and there was nothing wrong with that! At least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. Just because it was a monster didn’t mean it needed the overkill.

You wondered if that sickening enjoyment was hereditary. You hoped that it wasn’t.

You lifted an arm and rolled up your sleeve to reveal the mark. You hated what it was putting you through, hated the price that came with the mark. You weren’t sure if Sam found any leads on the Book of the Damned but you hoped he would find some clues soon for Dean’s sake. He deserved to be free from this curse.

You, however… you deserved the burden after all you’ve done in your centuries of existence. You deserved the endless Hell.

It wasn’t something you could escape from like you tried to do with the little date with poor Ricky… there would always be monsters out there.

And you were one of them.

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @chriszgirl92 @johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @alternativeprincess94 @doctorlexilouwhosblog @deangirl96 @snowayumi @lyarr24 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @blackcherrywhiskey @prettyinplaid94 @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

#jensen ackles #supernatural #spnfandom #dean winchester #supernatural imagine #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester ff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #mark of cain dean #mark of cain #moc dean #moc!dean

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heartshapedbubble · 6 months

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and now, for a request that took me six months to start writing and two months to finish due to personal stuff. jesus christ i should start including financial compensation alongside my fics.

anyways happy spooky szn everyone!! now that my reqs are finally empty i'll be reworking my page soon and opening them again💞

unspoken words, an orpheus x maid reader fanfic📕

tags/heads up: reader is a maid, gender not specified, one sided enemies to lovers kinda????, suggestive only if you squint really hard and get your eyes reaaaally close to the screen (theres only kissing tbh)

-------------------------------------------------------

Being a survivor was never easy. Peer pressure from both your team and people outside it, dealing with all sorts of blows directed right at you - either the physical ones, by the hunter, or the verbal ones from the other survivors.

But being a survivor AND a servant? It made things even worse.

Right after a match, it was only a matter of time when you'd hear groans and whines about how there's no tea and biscuits served in the living room, how there's so much dust on library shelves, how stained the floor in the hall is. And there was no time to catch a break, hell, no time to heal either. You roughly wiped your bloodstained knees, plucked out pieces of wood that dug themselves into your palms, and got back to work. As drops of remaining blood rolled down your leg and you felt your hips crack each time you bent down, you got back to your everyday cleaning service. As you were a maid - the only one that was available at all times, at least, and the only one who was actually living and not just a stitched-up corpse - most if not all of the household manor duties ended up a burden on your back. Strolling between the survivor side and the hunter side, you served warm cups of lemon tea, handed clean towels, even polished shoes. And my god, there was no mercy from either side. Everything was always "not good enough", and most of the time you barely even got a "thank you" handed back. One time, one especially daring hunter dared to spit on you as you scrubbed the tiles beneath him - let's just say that the handle of your broom got to his ankles quite quickly.

The maid life was ugly, but it had its benefits, too. For example, you heard all sorts of juicy gossip dealt from mouth to mouth, from ear to ear, dark secrets from every single person inhabiting the manor. And as most people ignored you unless they needed some unimportant favor from you, in the meantime there was plenty of alone time you could use up until the next bell ring. Curled up in a hidden part of the library, a plate stacked with softened butter cookies by your feet, your free time was spent dozing off on the soft, velvet cushions of the hard sofa by the foggy window, your eyes occasionally skimming through a yellowed book.

"Oh, sorry." Helena mumbled as the tip of her cane accidentally scratched your hand as you scrubbed the floor. "I knew you were somewhere in front of me, but I didn't know where exactly."

"It's all good, Hele." Helena was one of the more polite residents, but it was just part of her nature - shy, polite, respectful. Compared to everyone else, she was just a kid after all.

You achingly checked the grandfather clock looming over you, waiting eagerly until it rang for five o'clock and signaled your break for the day. Yesterday you stumbled over a really good book, with a fascinating plot decked into at least five hundred pages. You barely got to skim over the first few when you heard a whine from the living room, demanding a serving of pastries. It kept you up all day long and you could barely contain yourself from running to your little haven straight away.

At last, your deserved break came, and you almost tripped over the carpet folds as you ran towards the rusty trapdoor separating you from your one-hour paradise. Yet, as you lunged right for the piled-up cushions, you noticed a figure.

Someone.

Sitting on your sofa.

Reading a book.

Not just a random book.

The exact same one you picked up and tucked under the pillows yesterday, so no one can get their grubby little hands on it except you.

And, to top it all off, it was no other than the novelist, Orpheus, who was sifting impatiently through the pages, splayed on your sofa like a frog, his leg bouncing nervously.

Ugh, that Orpheus. He was polite and all, one of the exceptions, good-looking even, but god did something about him rub you the wrong way. He always said hello, said goodbye, said thank you and please, smiled back at you, yet...

"Oh, good afternoon, ___!"

The position he was in right now really wasn't helping.

"Hello, sir Orpheus." The "sir" title you had to use out of respect awfully repulsed you, even more so than "lady". Perhaps it was the undertone of uttermost submission unavoidably coming with it. "May I ask you, what are you doing here?"

"Oh. Well, I was on a.... little expedition, will you", he chuckled, nervously playing with the buttons on the cuff of his shirt, "Y'know, messing with the bookshelves and what not, when I stumbled upon this fine little room. Seems like I'm not the first one to discover it, am I?"

"No, you're not." You forced yourself to smile, and sat right by him, the cushions dipping under your weight and slightly pulling you two closer. "I've claimed it as my own, in fact. I believe you don't mind that, do you?"

"I-I don't mind it at all! No no, how could I? Well, I..." He mumbled nonsense, trying to hide his face as he cleaned his monocle. He seemed especially nervous today, and he wasn't the calmest in general, either. "...may I assume you don't mind me staying a bit longer here, do you?"

You sighed. Well, maybe some company instead isn't a bad thing. Even if it was him. "I'll let it slip this time. Want some cookies?" You pulled out a scratched tin box from under one of the big cushions, and messed with the tightly clasped lid. "They're a bit stale, but they taste just fine."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. Hesitatingly, he picked a crumbling cookie and wrapped it in his handkerchief. "Thank you for welcoming me so nicely despite your... condition, y'know. I can only imagine how hard it can be having the role of a maid and a competitor at the same time." There was pity in his voice, a hint of internalized shame, maybe. Willingly or not, his last sentence created an uncomfortable silence between you two, and it was only a matter of time before one of you broke it.

"...You're welcome", you went in head-first into the conversation, "but I really don't need your pity. I didn't get a lot of it in the first place, and I sure don't need it now. My life is what it is, and neither of us can change it."

He sighed. "I suppose you're right", he said as he got up and stretched, "just saying, though.. accepting empathy or help here and there really isn't that humbling as it seems." He calmly walked through the trapdoor, as if he didn't say anything.

God. You decide to be nice for once and you get back a lesson instead? How fun. Especially when it's from someone who you thought you could confide in. But you're not going to allow his words to get to your skull - there's so much better things to think of compared to that....

"My apologies, dear." Michiko whispered as she quickly tiptoed away, accidentally bumping into you the second before.

"I'd advise you to be more careful where you tread, doll", Joseph suddenly appeared in the hallway, weaving his words with his usual husky yet elegant voice, "I believe you don't want any accidents to occur while working, hm?"

Out of almost all of the (adult) hunters, Joseph was the most talkative. And you were no exception - he regularly spoke to the other survivors, often scaring them by whispering from behind their back or jumping out of the shadows. He wasn't trying to form strong relationships, obviously, but it seemed like he wasn't the type to withold his comments. After some time spent observing you deduced that Joseph might be a little bit too fascinated with you - or at least a little bit too interested in chatting with you.

"No, Joseph, I, in fact, don't.", you groaned as you threw the broom back in your bucket, "Besides, shouldn't you be more worried about your own wellbeing, old man? Should I bring you some balm for your sore limbs?"

He clicked his tongue. "Tch. You know I have good intentions, dear." One blink later and he already merged with the shadows, looking for someone else to talk to.

"Woah. What was all that about?" You heard a voice behind you, a bit shaky and uncertain. It was - you sighed - Orpheus again, in his hands a ceramic tray stacked with porcelain dishes and silverware, a warm scent of mint emitting from the glossy teapot. He wasn't having a good time trying to balance it in his arms.

"Nothing. Just Joseph being Joseph. Mind me taking this for you?" you grabbed the tray in an instant, now much more stable under your grip.

"I...do, actually." He slowly pulled the tray back towards him, a bit hesitantly now as his hands shook beneath it again. "I thought once you finish we could sit down for tea. Y'know, just the two of us. In the little room in the library. I can bug Norton for some of his tres leches if you want. Or maybe Margaretha for pierogi if you're craving something savory instead... Sorry, I wanted it to be a suprise." He looked away, bashfully, as if he regretted doing all of this in the end. You weren't sure what had gotten into you at that moment, but you suddenly felt that if you don't accept his offer now, you might feel really bad later on. Like looking at a sad little puppy's beady eyes.

"Thinking of it now, it doesn't seem like a bad way to pass the afternoon. I'm in."

You puffed at the steam coming from your cup.

"Joseph really gets on your nerves, hm, ____?"

"A bit, yeah. Snooty old man."

"Ah, come on now, he isn't that bad. He's quite pleasant to talk, actually. A little intimidating, very peculiar, but pleasant. Most of the time."

"Wish it was like that when playing against him. I go through hell and back while dressing my wounds because of his damned rapier. How did it even get approved by the owner?

"He's a veteran, so I believe they decided to let it slip back then. Or maybe he just swayed DeRoss off of his feet with his Frenchman charm and the two lasers he has for eyes."

You almost choked on your tea. Orpheus had a suprisingly sharp tongue, unfitting with his unsuspecting face and downturned eyes. He took off his gloves - revealing rough yet nimble fingers - and scooped some pierogi onto his plate.

"Was this a pleasant enough suprise for you?"

"Well, for the first time someone has been nice to me in a while, it's quite delightful, I admit."

"You mean, you wouldn't consider Joseph being polite towards you as "being nice"?"

"Hm?"

"Oh, just wondering, since I overheard bits of your conversation today. He didn't really sound rude, did he?"

"I mean, he wasn't rude or anything, it's just...I don't know how to explain it. Yeah, people are nice to me, actually, quite a lot of them, but they rarely go beyond their words. They don't put them into action."

"I see. I believe it gets annoying with time."

"It does."

"Do you put what you say into action, too?"

"...What are you implying?"

"As in, when you like a person or care for them, do you also try to put into action your love for them?"

"Orpheus, I put everything into action. Every day. That's my job as a maid."

"Yes, I...know that very well, but do you put love in action, too?"

"I don't have time for love. Nor is there anyone to fully love here, I fear. Just tolerate and like, maybe. If they're really nice."

He sat up straight, his thumb trailing his bottom lip back and forth.

"See, I'm no expert, but I do feel that you're denying yourself of something you don't know you need most."

Leaving you puzzled, he got up and left the room.

"Orpheus, have you ever kissed somebody before?"

He suddenly jolted, staring back at you from the other edge of the sofa.

"What kind of question is that?" He tilted his head, pouring milk into his tea. One tea break ensued after another, and now it has become an unspoken rule to bring something to sip (or munch) on to the library hideout as the clock struck for afternoon.

"You know how they portray poets and novelists. Romantic, sensual, passionate. I just assumed you already have some experience with dating."

A faint pink flashed his cheeks. "Well, now, what is it that prompted you to ask me? And now, of all times?"

Sip by sip, sentence by sentence, and you got quite close to Orpheus in these few months. You couldn't help but think about his words here and there - to do something with love, not just because you have to. Or out of love. Whatever. The following day after he brought you tea for the first time, you felt the moral obligation to invite him for lunch. And so the cycle continued, an opportunity to chat appeared along with it, and in Orpheus you now saw a friend. Perhaps. There were bits of joy in the moments when you picked out the perfect flavor for the day or played with coffee cream, attempting to make some designs with it.

No, in fact, there was no real reason behind your question. It seemed fitting enough for the moment, and maybe, just maybe, you wanted to catch him off guard again.

"Felt like it."

He cleared his throat. "Well, if you're so curious about it.... not really. Fangirls were common but... I'm simply not very experienced. Some may see me as charismatic but once things get a little bit more serious I don't know what to do. Was that the answer you expected from me?"

It was a bit ironic. A bit cute, even. How his charisma only reached up to actual love, the real thing. The same thing he remarked you needed the most.

"Funny. The Orpheus, the detective novel author, afraid of love? Out of all things?"

It didn't take long for him to pout his lips, looking away in shame. "To be fair, there's quite a bit to be afraid of in love. There's commitment, passion, building trust, insecurity... It takes a lot to love."

"I see."

"May I ask you the same question?"

"Which one - if I've ever kissed someone? Never. Never had the opportunity. Never felt the need, in fact. It wasn't a necessity to have a partner, only a plus. It's not something to be terribly afraid of. I believe it just happens and, well, you go with the flow."

"Well, maybe you never feared it because you never reached its starting point."

"Oh, Orpheus, you're supposed to be a novelist, not a philosopher."

The library sofa is quite practical. If you pull the compartment at the bottom of it a little too hard, it can be stretched out, turning it into a large comfortable bed, although a bit rough on the skin.

You and Orpheus laid on the sofa-bed, directly facing the large window, listening to the sound of raindrops hitting the glass.

"It's really calming here. Lulls you right to sleep." He started, his monocle set aside. Now having a better look at his so-to-speak "monocled" eye, you noticed it's more downturned than the other.

"...Mhm." Already half asleep, you turned your head towards his face, soaked up his profile through lidded eyes.

"____ , is everything okay?"

"Everything is just fine. Juuust fine. I'm just a bit sleepy."

You looked at his hand, laying by his hip between you two, fingers twitching here and there nervously. He never took his gloves off in front of you except for when he was eating.

"You can go take a nap if you want. I'll wake you up once it's time to go."

Your hand mindlessly headed towards his and your fingers pinched at the satin gloves, trying to take them off his hands.

"No, I think i'm good."

He sighed sharply. That wasn't a sigh of annoyance, it was a sigh of pain, like trying to breathe deeply while your heart aches.

"God, no. Please, ____ , don't do this to me."

He was scared, and now you were too, but his hand remained still. Torn between pleasure and horror. His fingers cold and nimble, his hand rough and calloused again. For an unknown reason, you wanted to hold it, from the second your gaze switched to it.

"I'm not doing anything bad, am I?"

Your fingers finally fit between his, palm to palm. It was weird. Like holding a pleasantly cold cup and trailing across sandpaper at the same time. But it felt good. It felt safe, secure, like it could last forever.

"You know what you're doing."

You felt his fingers tighten around your hand, gripping it tightly.

"...Please keep on doing it."

Seven o'clock.

An envelope in your hands. Your name written on it in the prettiest cursive you've seen, like a treat, baiting you to open it.

But you held back.

You waited.

The door creaked behind you. Not turning back, you spoke softly:

"Orpheus."

"____"

Your name uttered between breaths.

The clack of his shoes, his weight switching from leg to leg, his breathing becoming louder. You could now feel it on your neck. The chilling warmth.

"Why didn't you open the letter?"

"You know why."

"You're cruel."

"But you came anyways."

He sighed. "... for love." It sounded heavy coming from his mouth.

"For love." You smiled, the word now as light as a butterfly. The knife tore through paper and you skimmed through the lines of words, a careful gaze watching you as you did so.

"...What do you think?"

"It's wonderful."

"I know what's on your mind."

You turned towards him now. Face to face. Mere inches separating your eyes. Eyes, wandering everywhere else except towards what laid in front of them.

You tried to lay your hands around his neck. You tried, really. But the look in his eyes already denied you before you even started.

His hands quickly reached for your lowering wrists.

"Give me a moment, I beg of you." He whispered, shaking.

His lips indecisevly hovered above your lips, then your neck, your nose, your cheek. You closed your eyes firmly, only opening them once you felt comforting warmth on your jaw. He pulled back, leaving a translucent string of saliva as he parted.

"I know it wasn't as magical as you expected it to be. I'm sorry, ____ ."

"We barely even started, Orpheus."

He tried to object, to bury himself again, but before the words could slip from his mouth, your lips shut him up. And so, in a mere moment, the unspoken words did not matter anymore.

#identity v #idv #idv headcanons #identity v headcanons #idv imagines #idv fanfic #idv scenarios #idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v x you #novelist idv #idv novelist #identity v novelist #novelist identity v #orpheus idv #idv orpheus #identity v orpheus #orpheus deross #idv oneshot

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre! Outbreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

A/N: I did not plan for this to be over 4k words. LOL enjoy ♡

~word count : 4.3k~

Summary: Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

Warnings: soft! Joel, shy! Joel, fluff, flirting, slow burn, eventual established relationship, single! Father Joel, protective! Joel, he’s so sweet your teeth will hurt! Joel, eventual smut, some angst, no y/n, +18 minors dni !

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

It was around 2:30 the next afternoon that Joel Miller had given you a ring. You were on your well deserved lunch break after Javi P put you through absolute hell. Why you thought it was going to be an easy hack session with him, was beyond you. Javi P never made anything easy, but you were determined to show this horse some good in his life. He’d been through hell in the racing industry, and it left a bad taste in your mouth just knowing how disposable he and his brother were to their old owners.

When your ringtone blared, you nearly lost hold of your sandwich as you grabbed your phone, answering it on the second ring.

“Hey darlin’ it’s Joel; Joel Miller. The uh–the guy who called ya yesterday about getting his daughter some ridin’ lessons?”

You honest to god thought it was fucking adorable that Joel even thought for a minute that you weren’t gonna remember him. You most definitely had not been thinking about this man all day after your phone call. No way, that definitely wasn’t you.

“Hey, Joel! I take it I left a good impression on you yesterday?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he was parked in front of Sarah’s school, waiting for her. “Yeah, you uh–most definitely did. Anyway, i’m waitin’ to pick my daughter up and then we were gonna head over, if that still works for you?”

“Oh, perfect! Yeah, that still works for me! I’ll meet you out front when you get here, and then we’ll do the tour, sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Just wanted to y’know check in and make sure that I wasn’t inconveniencing you or anythin’ like that.”

“Well, I appreciate you calling, but I hate to break it to you, I don’t do much around here for you to be inconveniencing me.”

“I’m sure that ain’t true. You seem to uh–really enjoy what you do, which is hard for a lot of folks to say. Don’t sell yourself short, and just from our conversation yesterday, can tell that you really care about the horses, even when you’re threatenin’ to turn one of ‘em into glue.”

You let out a light laugh, biting the tip of your nail because woo doggy, Joel Miller was a total fucking sweetheart in your books, and you still hadn’t met this man in person.

“Thanks, Joel. I appreciate you saying that. You’re not gonna let me live down the glue thing, huh?”

“Anytime, darlin’ and oh, no I will not be letting you live that one down.” He looked out the driver side window when he saw Sarah walking up and he reached over, unlocking the passenger side door for her. “Hey, Sarah just got outta school, S’okay that she’s not like in uh–proper ridin’ stuff?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine! Jeans and a t-shirt are the most comfortable option. We’ll get her fitted for a helmet as well, if you guys end up choosing our place that is.”

“Oh, sweet. Didn’t know if there was like a strict attire or anythin’ like that and I got a good feelin’ that we’re gonna be seein’ a lot more of each other.”

“Nah, we’re not like the hunter jumper barns. As long as she has closed-toed shoes, she’s good.” Your heart may or may not have skipped a beat when Joel Miller casually stated that he had a feeling you were going to see each other a lot more. Damn these southern charm Texas men.

“Alright, awesome. Pickin’ her up now, see ya in a bit!”

“See you in a bit, Joel!”

He hung up just as Sarah had climbed into the passenger seat and buckled herself in.

“Who were you on the phone with?” She took notice that her dad had a slight blush to his cheeks and she couldn’t help but grin and give him a little shoulder punch.

“Just got off the phone with your potential new ridin’ instructor. I think you’re really gonna like her, kiddo. She seems pretty cool.”

“You’re blushing dad, you know that? Right here!” She playfully poked his dimple.

“Am not! Just a little hot in here. Sweatin’ bullets.”

“Sureeeee it’s just the heat, you’re so right!”

He gave his daughter a playful warning look while he reached over and ruffled her head of curls.

“I ain’t blushin’ I don’t blush!”

“Okaaay dad, whatever you say!”

Joel Miller was not blushing. Like he said, he doesn’t blush. It was just the hot Texas air that had him feeling all flustered.

You quickly finished what was left of your sandwich, checking the time as you tidied up your desk. You grabbed your phone and slipped it back into your jeans pocket as you headed out of the makeshift office, and into the aisle way of the stalls.

“Listen up fellas, we have a potential new client coming through in about 20 minutes, and i’m expecting all of you to be on your very best behavior.” You looked directly at Javi P as you spoke. “Yeah bud, I'm talking to you specifically. We are NOT biting any kids today, alright?”

Javi P looked displeased, and if horses had hands, he would most definitely would be flipping you off right now.

You spent the next 20 minutes sweeping the aisle way, wanting everything to look presentable as possible. You heard the sound of truck tires under loose gravel and you just had a feeling it was Joel Miller.

“Alright boys, it's showtime!”

Sarah was telling her dad another horse fact from her book when they were getting out of his truck. “Dad, this one is super cool! Did you know that horse hooves are made from the same protein as human hair and fingernails? That’s one big finger nail!”

Joel had let out a laugh, his eyes crinkled up a bit in the corners as he shook his head. “Think that protein is called keratin? Sounds about right to me.”

“Keratin! Yeah, that’s what it's called!”

He observed the area then and took notice of the blooming flowers in the front of the stables, and the overall comforting vibe this place had. He could hear the familiar sound of a horse whinnying. The distinct barn smell didn’t even have him turning up his nose, and in a way, he found it oddly comforting.

His head turned in the direction of the door opening as you stepped outside. You were wearing light washed jeans that definitely were well worn, a loose graphic tee, Star Wars to be specific. The fabric was faded, but he could make out the image of two X-Wings. So, you were a nerd too, just another added bonus.

Your jeans were a bit dirty from your fall off of Javi P earlier, and you were certain that your hair probably looked insane, but Joel wasn’t expecting you to walk out in a mini skirt and stilettos, that was damn sure.

“Joel? Hey, nice to put a face to the name!” You held your hand out to him and he grasped it in his larger one. He had a firm grip, and his palms were well worn, a little calloused. Not that you were paying attention to those little details or anything.

He was undeniably handsome. A tall fucking glass of water, as you would describe him to your friends later over drinks. He had deep, warm, inviting brown eyes, a good structured jaw, and a killer smile. One that would definitely make any girl weak in the knees.

Joel already knew what you looked like from your bio on the website, but in person? You were even prettier. Joel had been so focused on his job, and caring for his daughter, that he never really saved any room for himself. He hadn’t gone on a proper date in god knows how long, but he just had a feeling that maybe you were gonna change that for him.

He smiled as you shook hands before he gestured to his daughter, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Hey, nice to meet ya! This is my daughter Sarah. Newly horse obsessed as you already know.”

Sarah swatted at her dad’s arm playfully and stuck her tongue out at him. “Dad, don’t embarrass me!”

You couldn't help but laugh as you watched their interaction. It was clear Joel and his daughter were very close. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about kiddo. I, too, am horse obsessed. Would even go as far to say that I am horse crazy.”

Sarah let out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest with a small smile. “Yeah, okay. Guess there is nothing to be embarrassed about. Horses are pretty freaking cool!”

You nodded. “They are super freaking cool! You guys wanna head in and I'll give you a tour?”

Sarah was already grabbing her dad’s hand as you led the dad daughter duo inside the main building.

“We’ve been in business for a little over a decade now. We’re family owned and a non-profit and all of the horses here were rescued from various situations. We focus heavily on good horsemanship skills, positivity and creating a safe, judgment free zone. We currently have 6 horses at our facility. All at different skill levels, but 5 out of the 6 are extremely beginner friendly.”

Joel had his hands shoved in his jean pockets as you spoke, he was attentively listening to everything you were saying.

“Did you rescue them all yourself?” He asked.

“Yep, every single one of them. Not all at once, but I'd get a tip from someone in the business about an upcoming auction, or abandoned barn, and I'd be there. I’ve traveled across the country for a couple of them, and I wish I could rescue every horse, but I do what I can y’know?”

“I understand. It’s great that you’ve given ‘em a second chance at life and a fresh start.”

You held the door open for them as you led them into the aisle way where the stalls were located. “Yeah, I agree with you. They deserve so much more than to just be thrown away like that. These boys are some of the luckier ones.”

All 6 of the horses had stuck their heads out of their stall doors to see who was coming and Sarah’s little heart was already melting.

“So like I was saying, we have 6 horses currently. Their names are Frankie, Dieter, Whiskey, Javi P, Javi G, and finally, Ezra.”

You brought them over to the first stall which was Frankies. He was a bay, tobiano paint. He had one blue eye, and one brown eye. You leaned against the side of his stall door as he peeked his head out over the side, nickering softly at you.

“This is Frankie, he’s our newest recruit. Just actually picked him up from Utah a little over a month ago.” You gave him a gentle pat on the neck. “He’s about 20 years old, in horse years and he’s a sweetheart. He was a little girl’s birthday present and he was well loved up until he spooked one day. She fell off and broke her arm and her parents deemed him to be ‘unsafe.’ He would have been on his way to Mexico if it wasn’t for me. I’m working on doing some desensitizing training with him as he doesn’t handle loud, sudden noises very well. He loves kids though.

Sarah frowned as she listened to you talk about Frankie and what would have almost happened to him.

“It wasn’t his fault that he spooked, right?”

“No kiddo. It’s never the horses fault and we gotta remember that their prey animals. If they feel like they’re in danger, or threatened, their natural instinct is to run.”

“Can I pet him?”

“Course you can. Here, he’ll love you forever if you give him one of these.” You reached into your pocket, pulling out a carrot and snapped it in half, handing her the one piece. “You’re gonna want to hold your hand out flat, tuck your thumb under your fingers cause you don’t want him accidentally biting them.”

Sarah nodded as she walked to his stall door, holding the carrot out to Frankie like you said and when he had licked her hand as he grabbed the carrot, she let out a soft giggle.

Joel had the softest fucking smile on his face just from seeing his baby girl happy like this.

“Next we have Dieter. This guy? He’s a little trickster and he’s pretty damn good at it. Loves to steal things out of your pockets if you’re not careful. I’ve caught him nearly escaping at least a dozen times. Had to really get creative with the locks on his stall. He used to be a lesson horse at a hunter jumper barn not far from here. The schooling shows really started to wear him down and they felt like he was useless after that.”

“Woah, he has a mohawk! That’s so cool! What kind of horse is he?” Sarah asked.

“He’s a Norwegian Fjord. He’s in between the size of a standard horse and a large pony. They typically have longer manes but due to the weather, we keep his trimmed so he doesn’t overheat. Plus, I think he enjoys having a mohawk, wouldn’t you say?”

Sarah didn’t hesitate to give Dieter a soft stroke on the side of his neck and she looked back at her dad with a small grin.

“I think he looks very punk rock, whad’ya think dad?”

“Very punk rock. He pulls it off pretty well I think.”

Whiskey, who’s stall was next to Dieter’s, was pawing impatiently at the ground.

“Ahh yes, good old Whiskey boy. He can be a bit of a handful at times, but he has a super smooth gait due to his breed.”

“When you talk about a horse's gait, are you uh–are you talkin’ about their movement? What makes him different from the rest?” Joel asked.

You looked over at him with a smile and nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Their gait is their natural movement. Whiskey is a Tennessee Walking Horse, and his natural gait differs between a flat walk, running walk, and a canter. He’s best suited for the trails and easy flat work. This guy was rescued from the ‘Big Lick’ industry. His gait is naturally high stepping but to enhance it for shows, trainers would use chains, heavy boots, and chemicals on his fetlocks in order to have him step higher. The practice is considered cruel, for obvious reasons, but people get away with it often. He went lame at one point and was thrown into auction.”

Joel had frowned as he listened to Whiskey’s story. It left a bad taste in his mouth that people could be so cruel to an animal like that.

“So, these guys really have been through hell, huh?”

“Unfortunately they have. Trust me, I get angry just thinking about what they went through.”

“Well, they’re certainly lucky that they have you, darlin. I like his coat color. That’s the proper term ain’t it?”

You almost felt a blush creep up your neck when he called you darlin again. At least you could blame it on the sweltering heat. Not because of Joel Miller and his smooth Texas drawl.

“Coat color is the correct term, yeah. He’s a dappled palomino. I call him honey sometimes because of his color, and because he’s as sweet as honey. A little bit of a flirt as well, a ladies man you might say.”

“He definitely gives off the ‘pretty’ boy vibes.” Joel said with a chuckle.

Before he, or Sarah could walk to the next stall, you put your arm out in front of them protectively, just as Javi P had lunged his head out, with his ears pinned back against his head, baring his teeth.

“I told him to be on his best behavior but I swear, this horse never listens.”

Joel was more focused on your soft grip on his bicep to even process the angry beast in front of them.

“Is this the horse you threatened to turn into glue yesterday?” Joel asked in a joking manner.

Sarah let out a shocked gasp.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I wasn’t actually gonna turn him into glue. He just isn’t the friendliest as you can see.” You gently released Joel’s bicep from your grip. “This is Javi P, he’s an OTTB, better known as an off the track thoroughbred. He was gonna make it big in Kentucky and would have sold for millions if it wasn’t for his accident. His jockey was well known for, to put it lightly, and please excuse my French, an asshole. This guy was too young to even be on the track. His bones weren’t even fully formed, nor able to withstand the pressure. He wiped out on a mud track a year ago, and knocked his jockey out. If they would have given him more time, and switched Jockey’s, he probably would have had a successful racing career.”

“I take it he doesn’t trust humans very well because of that? I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

“He’s incredibly weary of men especially. It’s really unfortunate because I know underneath all his meanness, there’s a really good horse. I’ve just been trying to chip away at his rough exterior, bit by bit. He threw me off earlier this morning, but it was my fault. Lost my footing in the stirrup and he flipped.”

“Jesus, are you alright?”

“Me? Oh, yeah I'm good. I’ve experienced a lot of falls in my life. Just comes with the job honestly.”

“Just about how many times have you fallen off? If ya don’t mind me askin’ that is.”

“Oh gosh, uhhh I'm not sure if I can count them on both hands. At least 20. Maybe a little less than 50. It happens but the main thing is, I've gotten back on everytime.”

“Woah, you’ve fallen off that many times and you aren’t scared or anything? Okay, my dad was totally right, you are so cool!”

Now you were actually feeling flustered, and Joel might have been as well but you couldn’t exactly tell. “I was definitely scared the first few times and I was afraid to get back on, but I pushed through it. What’s this about me being totally cool? Your dad is right on the money with that one, I am the coolest.”

Joel cleared his throat a little while he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, I will admit that I told Sarah you were cool. I mean, you left an impression on me after our phone call, and you know so much about horses so yeah, I’d say you’re pretty cool.”

Sarah gave her dad a funny look then, only one that he could see.

“Is Javi G related to Javi P?” She asked, walking up to the other chestnut thoroughbred and he had lowered his head down towards her, brushing his soft, velvet nose against her palm.

“Yep, they’re brothers with totally opposite personalities. Javi G was let go because he was deemed to be too “sweet” for racing. He’s honestly a huge goober. If you give him kisses, he gives them right back.”

Sarah had given his nose a quick peck and he returned it against her palm, licking her hand.

“See? Told ya, he gives them right back!”

Sarah giggled as he licked her palm. “That tickles!” She wiped her wet palm on the side of her jeans. “I think I like him the most so far! Or Frankie, he was very sweet.”

“I think Whiskey is my favorite so far. I’m Jealous of how fantastic his hair looks.”

“Dad, it's not his hair, it's his mane!”

Joel held his hands up in defense with a small grin on his lips.

“Ohh, my bad for not gettin’ the term correct, my deepest apologies!”

“Yeah, Joel! Get with the program!” You chimed, your tone light and playful as you stopped at the last stall. Ezra was already nuzzling his nose into your shoulder, giving you an affectionate push.

“Oh, wow. He’s so pretty! It looks like he has a heart on his head, you see that dad?” Sarah pointed to the heart shaped star on Ezra’s forehead.

“Oh, yeah he does! Recognize him from the photo on the website.” ‘Yeah, the one that you have been staring at for the past 24 hours, Miller.’ He thought to himself.

“This is my boy, Ezra. He’s a 16 hand high Hanoverian and he was making it big in the hunter jumper world for a few years. He used to compete all through the country and was well on his way to competing in Europe.” You gave him a pat on his neck, pulled out the other half of the carrot and fed it to him. “Sometimes horses give you signs that they’re tired, that they don’t want to work anymore. Ezra was giving all those signs and his owner refused to see them until it was pretty much too late. He passed out during a show from exhaustion and being overworked. Now, he gets to live comfortably and he enjoys being ridden again.”

Joel could tell how much these horses truly meant to you, just by the way you spoke about all of them. He admired your passion for giving them a second chance at life. This just confirmed to him that he definitely would be seeing a lot more of you.

After the tour, Joel felt comfortable leaving Sarah to spend some time with Ezra while you and him talked over the logistics.

“I gotta say, you really sold this place for me darlin’ and I think Sarah would be absolutely lucky to be trained under you. Y’know I'm usually super critical over these things, for obvious reasons, but I trust you already and I know she’s in good hands.”

You were in disbelief as you walked alongside him.

“Really? Well, I gotta say, that's a relief. I got a little worried that maybe I was taking it too far with telling you guys about each of the horses stories but honestly, it's necessary. I can’t tell you how many potential clients have rolled through here and lasted maybe a day before switching to a hunter jumper barn. So I truly appreciate you saying that. I think Sarah is going to love it here, and I would be more than happy to be her instructor.”

“Honestly? I’m just relieved you didn’t try and sugar coat anythin’ I appreciate the fact that you didn’t try to make yourself, or this place sound like somethin’ it's not. If that makes any sense? You’re just, uh–very personable? I apologize if i’m oversteppin’ with ya darlin’ I don’t mean to ramble.”

You laughed as you looked over at him and nodded. “I totally understand what you’re trying to get at Joel. So basically, I’m not a snobby asshole that’s just in it for the money?”

“Well, that is one way to put it. I could also tell by your shirt that you weren’t gonna be the prissy type. Can’t stand those kinda girls honestly. You’re definitely in it for the horses, and the experience.”

You were feeling flustered by this man’s words, and there was no way you could hide it. “What about the shirt you gave me away? C’mon, I'm curious to know what your first impression of me really was.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was the two X-Wings on your shirt? Just a simple observation. Gotta ask, what’s your favorite of the franchise thus far?”

“Damn X-Wings giving away all my deepest, darkest secrets. Oh man, probably the Empire Strikes back or Return of the Jedi. The new episodes have potential though. I do like the Pod racing in The Phantom Menace.”

“You walked right on into that one darlin,’ and those are pretty solid answers. Me personally? I like the Empire Strikes Back the most. Although, they’re all good.”

“I think I respect you just a tad bit more than I already did, Joel Miller.”

“Well, I must be doin’ somethin’ right huh?”

Oh, he has no idea.

“Anyway, let’s get you situated with the paperwork and figure out a good lesson schedule?”

Joel nodded and you left his side to go and grab the paper work, waiver and other forms along with a pen and after he signed everything, you went and retrieved Sarah, who was still loving on Ezra.

You stood just outside the door of the main building, waving to Joel and Sarah as he pulled out of the parking spot.

“Well, kiddo. Your first lesson this Saturday! Signed the paperwork and everything. You excited?”

Sarah looked over at her dad with a big smile as she buckled her seatbelt. “You like her, don’t you?”

Joel stumbled over his words as he looked over at his kid momentarily.

“Now what would make ya think that? Wait, was it that obvious? Shoot! You were not supposed to hear me say that. I don’t like your riding instructor sweet pea. I just think she is a cool person ,and she definitely knows her horse stuff.”

“I knew it! You do like her! Dad, you are terrible at making things not obvious! She’s like super pretty so I totally get it! I am going to tell uncle Tommy that you have a crush!” She giggled.

“Sarah–honey, are you feelin alright? The sun isn’t gettin’ to ya is it?” He looked absolutely mortified when she said that she was going to tell his brother. “Absolutely not, you do not speak of this to uncle Tommy, ever! I ain’t got a silly little crush, kiddo. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t say anything to uncle Tommy. I pinky promise! You do have a crush though dad. It’s okay, your secret is safe with me!” She held her pinky out to him.

“I ain’t got a crush. Silly talk, sweet pea. That’s all I'm hearin’ right now.” He linked his pinky with hers.

Alright, so Joel maybe had a teeny tiny crush on his daughter’s horseback riding instructor. Just a small innocent crush that would never turn into anything..right?

Part 3:

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profoundbondfanfic · 5 months

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break the skin (to break the barriers)

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles (@sobsicles) Rating: Mature Word count: 29k

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment. ~~~ Dean is silent for a long, tense moment, then he gruffly says, "It's not for banishing the angels. It's to summon them. So, it doesn't—it's not to get rid of 'em, but to draw 'em in." Mitzi can't help but glance up at him at that. His voice is so heavy with so much unexplained pain, and she doesn't understand why, or what angels have to do with it. She knows religion can impact people. She's very aware that it can get complicated, and that it can be a huge source of pain for someone, but Dean sounds grievously wronged, somehow, as if it's a truly personal thing. She pushes through, focusing back on her job, clearing her throat before murmuring, "Well, I guess we all want angels to visit us sometimes." "Just the one," Dean mumbles. "Your guardian angel?" Mitzi asks. Dean breathes out, "Something like that. As close to one as an angel will ever get."

After Chuck is defeated, Dean walks into a tattoo shop and hands the owner a list of tattoos he's thinking of getting. The first on the list is a sigil that will draw angels to him. Or rather, just one angel.

Told from the POV of Mitzi, the owner of the shop, this story follows Dean's appointments as he uses the time he spends getting his body inked to tell Mitzi the story of his life. And he starts right from the beginning. Obviously, Mitzi thinks she's making it all up, but Dean's stories are entertaining, so she listens. And Dean talks. He talks about his family, his friends, life as a hunter. He talks about Cas. These appointments are like therapy sessions for him, but also for us as readers, because we get to relive the story of the Winchesters and remember some of our favorite moments.

Mitzi is a delightful OC, sassy yet kind and empathetic. The writer has done a beautiful job fleshing out her character so she's not just there for Dean to talk at, and her interactions with her sister and their friend will surely get you as invested in their personal lives as much as Dean's.

Thankfully, though this story follows the SPN canon faithfully, it completely ignores the final episode and writes its own ending. Dean gets the happy ending he so much deserves, and his new friend Mitzi is there to celebrate with him.

#destiel #fic rec #mature #10k to 30k #canon verse #post canon #fix it #angst with a happy ending #hurt!dean #pining!dean #angel!castiel #tattooed!dean #outsider!pov #break the skin (to break the barriers)#author: sobsicles

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lllluffyvert · 3 months

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It’s funny how the entire trajectory of one’s life could be completely and utterly changed by a singular event. A chance encounter with a living whirlwind, a sunbeam in human form. An extended hand and bright, brown eyes that sparkled with the promise of an adventure and despite himself, Zoro was utterly captivated.

“I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Luffy, the kid who saved him without a thought for himself, without even knowing him, declared with utmost conviction, as if it were a fact, already set in stone. “I need a strong crew, the best of the best! And you’re amazing, Zoro!” A huge, toothy smile split across his freckled face and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I want you to be my first mate. Let’s help each other achieve our dreams!”

And it’s with the idea of pursuing his dream alongside someone this dazzling and so wholly determined that Zoro, the pirate-killer, the bounty-hunter, a man of self-imposed solitude, grasps Luffy’s outstretched hand in his own, catalogs the warmth of his sun-kissed skin, and swears his swords and his loyalty.

Just like that, Zoro finds himself whisked away to sea, sailing the East Blue with Luffy at the ship’s bow and their 3rd member, Nami, at the helm.

“She’s our crew’s navigator, the best there’ll ever be!” Luffy had announced by way of introductions, tipping his straw hat and throwing Zoro an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Not part of your crew,” Nami replied firmly while crossing her arms. The sleeve of her shirt shifted with the movement and a bandage wrapped around her right arm peeked from underneath the fabric. “Just hitching a ride.”

“I know,” Luffy said with a knowing wink and a winning smile. Zoro eyed Nami with some suspicion, but he could tell that Luffy had already made up his mind to trust her, and he wouldn’t question his captain.

It didn’t take long for Luffy to secure the fourth member of the crew: Usopp, an incredible sniper and an even worse liar. Zoro’s eyebrow twitched every time he called himself “Captain Usopp”, but along with Usopp came the Going Merry, and Luffy finally had his ship. Zoro would let Usopp spin all the tall tales he wanted as long as Luffy was happy.

The sun is high in the cloudless sky now as they skim over calm ocean waters. Zoro reclines against the ship’s wooden railing, nurses a bottle of beer and kicks his feet up. He contemplates taking a nap when he catches sight of Luffy, perched atop the sheep’s head of the Going Merry and basking in the sunshine. He holds his straw hat in his lap and hums a jovial tune as the salted breeze tussles his brown curls in a way that has Zoro feeling short of breath.

Luffy turns like he feels the weight of Zoro’s gaze and meets his eyes. He smiles, bright and warm like a ray of sun. Beautiful, is what Zoro thinks, as he sends up a silent prayer to the gods he doesn’t believe in that he would be deserving of such an expression, quietly devoting himself to his captain as his first mate, as his sword, as anything Luffy wanted him to be.

I’ll become the world’s greatest fucking swordsman, he vows with rekindled resolve, his hand a tight fist around the hilt of his sword. Whatever it takes.

Zoro is tested much sooner than expected, when only days later he, Nami, and Usopp are confronted by Dracule Mihawk, one of seven Warlords of the Sea, a man that Zoro simultaneously idolizes and strives to surpass. As Mihawk tersely questions their captain’s whereabouts, Zoro unsheaths his sword and points the tip at Mihawk’s chest.

“I, Roronoa Zoro, challenge you to a duel.”

“Zoro,” Nami hisses, her expression tense. “Please, don’t do this.”

Mihawk looks him up and down with eyes full of contempt and scoffs. “I don’t waste my time with children.”

“I’ve followed your career since I was a child,” Zoro doesn’t waver, adrenaline pumping in his veins and blood rushing in his ears. “And it’s my dream to be a greater swordsman than even you.”

One of Mihawk’s perfectly manicured eyebrows raises inquisitively as he stares at Zoro for a moment before nodding once. “Fine,” he says, “I’ll humor you, because you’ve piqued my interest, Roronoa Zoro. We’ll meet at dawn, and do try your best not to disappoint me.” He turns and strides away with a flutter of his dark cloak and disappears into the night.

“Why did you have to do that?!” Nami’s voice shakes with anger. “He’s going to kill you!”

Zoro sheaths his sword and looks to Nami. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are filled with apprehension.

“It’s a chance at my dream,” he says with conviction. Nami glares at him. “And why do you even care?”

“Why do I–” Nami sputters, and punches his arm hard. “Because you’re my friend, you idiot! I’m telling Luffy about this!”

She storms off and Usopp follows quickly, but not before he casts an apprehensive glance at Zoro, in agreement with Nami but afraid to speak his opinion.

Luffy will understand, Zoro thinks, and the idea provides him a modicum of comfort. Out of everyone, he knows his captain will understand because they’re the same. It’s what drew Zoro to him so easily; that unbreakable spirit and unshakable resolve. It might’ve also been the beaming smiles that sometimes seemed to be just for him, or maybe those big, sparkling brown eyes that only ever looked at him with adoration. He made Zoro want to be better, to be the best; he’d do anything to make his captain proud and dueling Dracule Mihawk was only the first step.

The hours seem to crawl. Zoro doesn’t sleep, choosing instead to cycle between meditation and polishing his swords, clearing his mind and steeling his nerves up until his crewmates barge into the room with only a few minutes remaining before dawn.

“Okay, now tell him to back out of the duel, Luffy!” Nami demands.

Luffy looks a little unsure, glancing back and forth between Zoro and Nami and biting his lip. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea, Zoro,” he says finally, pushing his hat back to scratch at his forehead, an anxious movement as he’s suddenly forced to make a decision as captain.

“I have to,” Zoro says, a bit desperately as he holds Luffy’s gaze. “To achieve my dream, I have to do this.” Understand me, Captain, is his silent plea.

At that, Luffy’s hesitant expression shifts into one of comprehension, and he immediately straightens his posture and nods firmly. “I’ll support you, Zoro,” he states resolutely.

It’s like a weight is lifted from his shoulders, and Zoro’s devotion grows ever deeper. His captain was at his side, and nothing else mattered.

Nami makes a noise of protest and her eyes begin to well up with tears. “Luffy, why?”

“I can’t get in the way of someone else’s dream, Nami.”

“Even if that dream will get him killed?!”

“Zoro is strong,” Luffy says simply, causing Zoro’s heart to skip a beat.

“I won’t let you down,” Zoro promises, as time runs out and the sun begins to peek over the horizon.

“I know,” Luffy replies with a reassuring smile and a confident gleam in his eyes, believing entirely in his first mate and filling Zoro with a fiery determination. He picks up his swords, ties his bandana around his head, and marches outside to the docks where Dracule Mihawk awaits.

“Ah, you actually showed up,” Mihawk says dully, looking rather bored. “Bravo.”

Zoro says nothing. He stands before Mihawk and pulls out his swords, biting down on the hilt of one and the other two in each hand.

The duel is quick. Zoro breathes heavily, Mihawk’s dagger in his shoulder and blood trailing down his arm to drip from his fingertips. He hears Nami cry out and Usopp gasps. Luffy makes no sound but watches him with wide eyes, features drawn with apprehension.

“Why don’t you retreat?” Mihawk questions, looking pointedly at the wound he’d created.

“If I do,” Zoro says through gritted teeth, “My dream will be lost forever.”

Mihawk hums appreciatively and pulls the knife from Zoro’s shoulder with a wet schlick. “Not bad, Roronoa Zoro,” he says, and a metallic ring echoes in the quiet of the morning as he unsheathes his greatsword from the holster on his back. “I believe you deserve to die by Yoru.”

Zoro rushes him, but his attack is parried easily; Yoru slices into his skin and ends him flying backwards. Two of Zoro’s swords shatter, leaving him only Wado Ichimonji, which he removes from his mouth to grasp firmly in his hand, standing despite his injuries.

“You’ve been defeated,” Mihawk says, “Why do you still fight?”

“Wounds on the back are a swordsman’s greatest shame,” Zoro responds honestly.

“Magnificient,” Mihawk murmurs.

Zoro opens his arms wide and closes his eyes as Yoru slashes across his chest, throwing him onto his back as blood pours from the gaping cut and pools around him, soaking into his shirt.

I’m sorry, Luf, is the only thought in his mind as his senses are wracked with pain and his vision fades to black. He thinks he hears Luffy cry out his name, but it’s faint under the ringing in his ears. Mihawk’s blurred silhouette stands above him, and it might be the blood loss, but he thinks he catches a gleam of respect in his enemy’s eyes.

“When you’re stronger, come and find me,” Mihawk says quietly, before he turns towards Luffy, who’s already running past him to drop to his knees at Zoro’s side, and Zoro’s focus shifts to where his captain’s warm hands touch his cheek, his arm, his chest, burning hotter than the pain in his body. It grounds him for just a moment, and he opens his eyes to meet his captain’s, huge and round and glistening with unshed tears.

Don’t cry for me, he silently begs, I don’t deserve it. I failed.

“Luffy.” Zoro’s voice is solemn, penitent. “If I fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman, you’ll be disappointed in me.”

“Never,” Luffy says immediately, and he leans forward to press his forehead to Zoro’s, balling his fists in his blood soaked shirt. “You could never disappoint me, Zoro.”

Zoro briefly considers what might happen if he were to tilt his head and catch Luffy’s lips, which were so, so close, in a kiss, and he blames the intrusive thought on blood loss induced delirium, before his vision goes black and he fades to nothing.

It’s dark outside when he comes to, without any idea of the time or day. He blinks to clear his eyes and gathers his bearings. He’s lying on a firm cot, the laceration to his chest has been cleaned and bandaged, and the pain is down to a dull sting. There’s a soft blanket around his upper body, and he can see Wado Ichimonji propped up against the opposite wall. His head throbs and right hand is asleep, prickling uncomfortably. He tries to move it, and hears someone shift beside him. He turns his head and catches his breath at the sight of Luffy. His captain’s hand is wrapped tightly around his own even as he stirs from his slumber, his hat around his neck and his brown locks sticking to the side of his face, and Zoro wonders how long he’s been sitting there, waiting for him to wake up.

His heart aches at the thought, and he hates himself for causing Luffy any grief.

“Eh? Zoro?!” Luffy is suddenly wide awake, and he drops Zoro’s hand, choosing instead to hop up onto the cot and hover over Zoro on all fours, straddling his hips. “Zoro! How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

He’s always so warm, Zoro thinks, and as his right hand regains feeling he lifts it to stroke his captain’s flushed cheek.

“Barely a papercut,” he quips softly with a smile only ever for his captain. Luffy’s laugh rings like a bell, a pretty sound that Zoro will never tire of hearing, and he drops to wrap his arms around Zoro, burying his face in his neck. Zoro’s heart hammers behind his ribs and returns the embrace, barely registering the pain his movements induce to his very recent injuries and thinking only of how Luffy smells of sea salt and fresh air, and how perfectly he fits against him.

Luffy lifts himself onto his elbows and meets Zoro’s eyes, his own filled with conviction. “You’ll grow stronger for me,” he says quietly, confidently. “And you'll be the greatest swordsman ever.”

Zoro’s hands move of their own accord, sliding his fingers up Luffy’s neck and into his hair, and he marvels at its softness for a moment before he brings Luffy’s head down and kisses him gently.

Fuck, is his desperate thought as the contact lights a fire in his stomach and he suddenly needs more, craves it.

“Captain,” he breathes reverently, and Luffy’s lips are slightly chapped but pliant against his own as he kisses him again, tenderly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. Luffy hasn’t moved, but he hasn’t told Zoro to stop either, so Zoro kisses him yet again, even goes so far as to suck Luffy’s bottom lip into his mouth and swipe his tongue over his velvety skin. That seems to shock Luffy to his senses, as he makes a soft noise that Zoro swallows up and tentatively, awkwardly returns the pressure, like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, exactly.

The idea of being his captain’s first kiss sends a thrill up Zoro’s spine, and his fingers tangle in Luffy’s hair as he deepens the embrace, tilting his head and licking into Luffy’s mouth like he was dying of thirst and his captain was life-saving water, only breaking the contact to gasp for air.

Luffy looks down at him with twinkling eyes and Zoro’s heart aches, this time with adoration for his captain. He pulls Luffy down against him, wraps his arms around his waist, and buries his face in his curls.

“Now let me get some sleep,” he mutters, and Luffy chuckles against him, snuggling deeper into his chest and sighing contentedly. He’s asleep within seconds, his warm breath puffing against Zoro’s neck and if he wasn’t wounded, he might’ve done something about it, but instead he follows his captain's lead and lets sleep take him.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #zolu #nami #Usopp #opla #my fic #guys you don’t understand they mean everything to me

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sunofpandora · 1 month

Text

Virago: Chapter 3 part 3

Neteyam x fem na’vi!omaticaya!reader

Characters:

Ka’lik- (like you would pronounce “Malik”) Y/n’s father, deceased, a warrior and hunter of the

omaticaya clan. A teacher to young warriors undergoing iknimaya.

Zensira-deceased, Y/n’s mother, spider's adoptive mother, a strong hunter and the best singer in the omaticaya clan, and a teacher to young hunters.

Kailo-(Y/n’s ikran. Your ikran is a male)

Popiti-(tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary)

(Also idk how many of you know this but Jake’s ikran’s name is canonically ‘Bob’.)

(WARNINGS!

Sharing a sleeping hammock with the opposite gender (non-romantically)-

Neytiri hating on spider/ mentions of insecurities, heartbreak, war,/ fluff/ angst/ mentions of hunting, killing animals, mentions of therapy, military, ptsd, romance, pining, use of military terms/codewords/ Let me know if I missed anything.

Chapter desc:

Authors note:

Here we go! Chapter 3!! It feels insane to be posting the actual third chapter of this. But holy moly, building up romance is much harder than I thought. This chapter is a long one so grab your favorite snack, find a comfy spot and buckle up.

I have a small request for my lovely virago readers, please comment on your favorite line, moment, quote, or dynamic from this chapter. This is so I can know what kind of stuff you guys incline towards so I can throw more of it in as the story continues.

IMPORTANT:

hi guys. So I’ve decided to change spiders age from 20 to 19 for plot purposes. Jake and Neytiri are the same age. Tuk is still 7. Kiri is 19, neteyam is 19, Lo’ak and Y/n are 18.

Important!

This is part 3, the final part to chapter 3. Thank you for your patience!

V I R A G O

Chapter 3;

Surrender to his saubade, he has set his soul and sin ablaze (to be yours)

Part 3 (final part to chapter 3)

Y/n’s pov-

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

(Still Neteyams POV)

Night hunts were a normality for our clan. Especially the ones led by my father.

I stood in the tent, slipping on my arm guards as I prepared myself to join my group on our ikran for the hunt.

I started Mentally checking off everything I needed.

Water flask, ionar (riders mask.), and-

I just can’t seem to focus.

All I can think about is y/n and how I’m going to speak to her after this hunt.

Kiri is right. I don’t deserve her. And maybe I never will.

I especially don’t deserve to call her mine.

And that’s okay. I can settle for just having her in my life. That’s enough.

But that’s a lie. I know it deep down.

It was never about sex or the physicality of it. I could love her my whole life and never touch her.

Would I go insane? Probably.

But could I do it? Definitely.

Settling for distance is my sacrifice. Distance is safe. Distance will keep her safe. It’ll keep me sane.

Well, that last part was a lie.

It’s a glass half full at this point. I told Kiri I only wanted us to be friends again. Normal, average friends.

That’s not what I want. I can keep trying to compartmentalize this for the rest of my life but I’ll always live with this ache. This void in my heart that only fits her shape.

Sacrifices. Sacrifices. Sacrifice-

“Neteyam?”

I snap out of my daze; turning around to see my mother standing in the entrance way to our hut.

“Are you ready yet, ma’itan?

Lo’ak waits outside for you.”

I shook my head, chuckling awkwardly.

“Ah. Sorry. I got a bit…distracted.

It’s nothing, mother. I’ll be out in just a moment.”

She nods, taking a step closer.

“I wanted to give you something before you leave.”

I turn to face her, my eyebrows raised a bit.

“Oh? Alright.”

She reached behind her back, holding out a small pouch, long and thin tied by a string in a roll.

I open it slowly, knowing whatever was inside was of great value.

Inside laid about 8 newly made arrows. The wood carved for the shaft still fresh in scent and the feathers for the fletching too soft to have been reused.

It’s the color that peaks my eye. The all-too familiar green and yellow shades.

“Your arrows?”

She nods, a look that can only be described as prideful as she gazes at me.

“I want you to use them tonight.”

I shake my head. This was too much of a gesture. I haven’t done anything to deserve.

“Mother, they are beautiful. But I cannot-“

“Ma’itan.”

She cuts me off. Her tone devoid of any hostility or impatience.

“I was thinking about our talk the other night. About your father, and how he is harsh sometimes.

You know well by now what you are. Who and where you come from. You are your fathers son. You have his strength. You carry yourself much like he did in his days of battle. and you must understand that scares him.”

I’m quiet as her words sink in. She places a hand on my shoulder. Her eyes of a golden hue that mirror my own.

“He is not ready to see his son fight his battles or wear his colors. Your father has his own shadows he has yet to face. If you cannot yet wear his colors..I want you to wear mine.”

She places the arrows in my hands, and I’m speechless.

She gently cups my face, her palm sliding down to my shoulder once again.

“You may use his weapons. You may speak his language. And you have grown up with his sky people ways.

But never forget, blood of the real warriors comes from us.”

She places two fingers atop her chest, right over her heart.

It breaks my soul to remember that one of my mother’s greatest fears is that we will forget the ways of a na’vi. That even the minimal amount of tech we use in our family circle, with the exception of my fathers gun, seems to threaten everything she knows.

I’m taller than my mother now. Only by a few inches. So I lean down when I go to hug her.

“Irayo, Sa’nok.”

(‘Thank you, mother.’)

I pull back, smiling at her.

“I hope with these, the winds of our ancestors fly with me tonight.”

She chuckles, taking a step back.

“They are with you. Always. No matter where you go. No matter where you are.”

There’s a comfortable silence before my mother sighs, and I put the arrows in the leather pouch that is attached to my ikran saddle for hunting.

“You should go. Your father is waiting with the others.”

I nod, putting on my ionar and finishing slipping on my arm guards.

I lean down, fastening the straps to my leg guards as well before grabbing the small satchel and making my way off.

“Neteyam- one last thing?”

I turn the moment my mothers voice reached my ears.

“Here.” She spoke softly.

I turn to see my mother holding up my beaded choker. The one worn by so many generations of warriors in our clan. I took it off a few days ago when Tuk wanted to re-braid my hair. last time, she kept getting my hair tangled with the clasp at the back of the necklace.

“Let me.”

Without another word, she turns me around by the shoulders, brushing my braids out of the way as she slips the necklace on me, tying the clasp properly to ensure it doesn’t fall while hunting.

She struggles for a moment, having to crane her neck to see properly.

“Curse you and your height.” She mumbles, and I can’t help but laugh.

Once she finishes, I kiss her on the cheek before speeding off.

I jog across the pathway, slinging my bow over my shoulder. The thick air of high camp resonating and weaving through the sounds of distant conversations and laughter.

I finally spot Lo’ak and Spider. Lo’ak stands with his bow around his torso, the string brushing his chest. Spider carries a basket of the arrows he and lo’ak made for y/n.

I pinch the back of lo’aks neck before slinging my arm around him.

“Ready for the hunt, baby bro?”

He hissed at me, shoving me away.

“This is bullshit. I fluke once. ONCE. And now dad won’t even let me fly my ikran for the hunt!”

Spider shrugs, as the three of us start walking to the large crevice cutting into the mountains of high camp, making a large entrance way and a stable spot to land and saddle up ikrans for coming or going.

“Look on the bright side. At least you get to go. Plus you’ll be with the direhorse squad with Norm.”

He pushes Lo’ak lightly to walk a bit faster.

Lo’ak grumbled something and speed-walked ahead of us.

Spider sets the basket down once we meet the meeting spot. The same place the clans war and hunting parties gather before a raid

Or a hunt.

Some other hunters start to swarm in. Carrying bows and arrows of their own, all talking amgonst one another.

Spider groans.

“Lo’ak. Look.”

He taps Lo’ak’s arm, not-so-subtly gesturing to Makeyo standing across from us, speaking with one of the other hunters.

Lo’ak fake gags, Spider glares and the both of them stare him down for a good 7 seconds.

An odd feeling settles itself in the more unwelcoming corners of my heart.

Like fingers trying to pry their way through a barrier.

Something tenses in me as I find myself staring at him too. Remembering how y/n spoke of him at dinner.

Makeyo a bit shorter than me. Only by a few inches. My hair is longer, his braids reaches his shoulders. Still taller than y/n though.

It’s only when I hear spider whispering I snap back to reality.

“Oh fuck. He’s coming over here. Don't make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact.”

Spider stares up, whistling as he shoves his hands behind him, leaning on a rock. Lo’ak fidgets with one of the arrows, both of them over exaggeratedly feigning to ignore Makeyo’s approaching figure.

He smiles at me, greeting us with an unhesitatingly proper formality.

“Neteyam. Lo’ak,”

He pauses for a moment, having to avert his eyes downward to notice spider.

“Ah, and..”

He struggles for a moment to recall spider’s name. Spider can only glare at the taller na’vi that somehow appeared even more intolerably annoying when he was being kind.

“Spider.” Spider mumbles, crossing his arms.

“Y/n’s brother.” I add, stepping in front of spider to try and distract Makeyo from the smaller human that looked like he was plotting a murder.

Makeyo nodded in recognition, smiling softly.

“Right. I assume y/n will be leading us tonight? As usual. She’s your fathers right hand man.”

“Woman.” I correct, with an unintentional edge delineating my tone. An almost crude enunciation of the word finds itself leaving my lips, making Makeyo still for a moment before chuckling.

“Of course. And what a woman she is..”

When did his face become so punchable?

Makeyo is someone that makes himself very difficult to hate.

Helpful, kind, smart, good with kids, the whole ordeal.

But I am no foreigner to a mask. Why? Because I wear one every single day of my life. Sometimes I wonder what Makeyo’s mask looks like. Or if he even wears a mask at all. Forever yearning to grasp such a thing that always seemed to evade you.

I bite my lip, my jaw tensing as my eyes graze over the expanse of his figure. Up then down.

Makeyo falters for a moment, but proceeds with an unhesitatingly sweetened glean in his eye.

“What I mean is, she is just amazing. Well, I don’t need to tell you that, of course. You’ve practically grown up with her.”

Something about the way he so shamelessly displays his simpering delusions of innocence in the form of this crush he has on y/n-

For lack of a better word, is really starting to piss me off. His bold assumptions of platonic love between me and y/n makes my tail flick.

And no, I’m not jealous. I’m not. Really. Yes, I am capable of violent impulses and of course, I do fantasize about punching his face every now and then, but that’s not jealousy. Is it? No. Of course it’s not.

Yeah, maybe I slightly envy the fact that he can love her so freely.

The way he could stand where he couldn’t see and hold her hand, unbothered by the absence of sunlight to compulsively provide promises of safety and sanctuary. Maybe I hate that he is unburdened by the weighted whispers of the elders and third eyes peskily pruning gazes at holding her hand. Maybe I hate that he spends almost all day with her. Watching her laugh, and interact so perfectly with the children of the clan.

Maybe I hated the way he had no history with her that resonates with soured feelings and broken promises. I envied his clean conscience.

But that’s not jealousy…of course not.

He’s called away to assist with some other task, and when I turn around Lo’ak and spider are quickly jogging in the opposite direction, towards the edge where an familiar red, purple, and blue ikran perches, with an even more familiar rider on his back.

Y/n smirks as she hops off of Kailo, the creature releasing an almost purr-like shrill as it rubs its chin against y/n’s cheek.

She chuckles, small luminous sparks leaking through the tops of the rocky stronghold flirting with her pulchritudinous smile.

She hums, gently petting the banshee’s neck.

“Mawey, pretty boy.”

I don’t really know why, but ‘pretty boy’ had an odd way of making my chest flutter. Even if I knew she was talking to her ikran.

She flips her braids over her shoulders. Y/n as always had a bit of a more effete-feel to her wardrobe. That of a warrior, of course. The strongly woven arm guards and her beaded cuff to tie her hair back when she flew, or hunted, always easily annoyed with her braids falling in her face.

The waist beads she wore, which were usually made by Kiri or my mother, were always a signature habit to herself.

She had quite a few scars, blemishes, and bruises that canvassed her skin. I find them beautiful. Like the patterns of the universe printed onto her skin.

Spider and Lo’ak fake saluted as y/n made her way towards them.

“Y/n, ma’am.”

Spider tipped his head ever so slightly, Lo’ak dramatically bowing, making her roll her eyes and laugh.

“At ease, boys.”

Lo’ak stands up straight again, slinging an arm around her shoulder and gesturing to spider.

“We made you something.”

Spider proudly holds up their basket of arrows.

There’s something indescribably tantalizing about the way she smiled at those two.

“Aw guys, you shouldn’t have..”

Spider scoffed, placing his hands on his waist.

“Please. It was our pleasure to assist the mighty archer.”

It’s a moment later when spider and Lo’ak run off to help norm, and I stand quietly behind y/n as she places the new arrows in her side saddle along with her bow.

“I’m assuming you were on babysitting duty? Supervising those two with the fire pit and sharp edges?”

She teased, nudging my shoulder. I chuckle back, shrugging.

“Of course. Someone has to prevent the children from running with their hunting knives.”

She shakes her head, another giggle tumbling past her lips.

“Tuk? Or Lo’ak and spider?”

I hum before leaning over a bit to stand a bit closer.

“Why not all of them?”

She laughs once again, and my palms feel warm for a moment.

I clear my throat, straightening my back a bit.

“Y/n. Can We talk abou-”

“Alright people let's get moving! Fall in and line up!”

I’m cut off by the sudden cannonade of my father’s voice. Y/n’s eyes widen a bit as it flickers to where he stood. Talking with uncle norm. She glances back at me, patting my back. “Later. Okay?”

I can’t even respond before she jogs over to my father, only stopping her dauntless strides when she pauses to fist-bump norm.

I follow suit with the other hunters in an almost feverish manner. Slinging my bow around my torso and finding a spot in the forming two long lines of other hunters and warriors beside Lo’ak.

“Let's move it people! We’re wasting the sunset! Oscar-Mike (move out), people, lets get it done!”

When the last few of the younger hunters scurry into line, my father stands tall in front of all of us, his arms crossed over his chest. Don’t be fooled by the brute build. He’s still the same man who stumbled into hometree all those years ago with a ‘good evening everyone’ and a ‘please don’t get up’.

He clears his throat bef0re he starts to speak.

“Good to see everyone turn up for tonight's hunt. This will be no different from training you’ve all had in the past, or currently undergoing.”

Some nod, others shift nervously on their feet.

Y/n approaches from behind my father. Her strides not faltering for even a second. Her chin titled high, looking us over with a gaze of a storm flooded a seafloor beneath a tideline. Y/n doesn’t get in line with us, no. Her place is beside my father. A leader.

spider perched behind her on one of the high ledges in the unevenly rocky stone walls of highcamp. One of his hands placed on her shoulder to keep himself from leaning forward too far.

My father continues.

“For those of you still training for your iknimiya, you will be on the ground team with Norm, and Awkey and the Olangi hunters will join us tonight. Stay in line with them. You will ride the pa’li on the perimeter of that narrow clearing in the middle of the grove. Understood?”

A few yips and grunts were heard from the younger na’vi, a few raising their bows and nodding their heads.

Father nods, turning back to face us again.

“Warriors. Those of you who have passed iknimiya and have ikrans will be in the sky. Bows on the ready, death from above.”

He takes a step back, gesturing to Y/n, who still stood in her place behind him.

“Y/n, my most trusted Archer, will be in command of the sky team. You are to stay within her flight patterns, and not go beyond what she sees as a fit perimeter. Follow her orders, and you might just learn something.”

Father finishes giving us our positions, and I stray from my assigned group, only for a moment. I walk towards the opening to the crevice, leaning down and making the bird call my mother taught me, pressing my lips together and releasing a high-pitched note of a sound.

The familiar flap of wings resonates in the air below me, and before I can blink, my ikran perches herself infront of me, making a soft shrill noise of her own. In all her glory, the green, brown, and yellow skin worn like a Hyde of the forest.

I pet her neck, adjusting the side saddle for my bow and tightening the neck reigns.

Rey’sa is what I named her.

Broken fragments of my mothers language stitched together. The meaning is a remembrance of Seze. My mothers first ikran. I had a toy ikran that was painted green, brown and blue, when I was around Tuk’s age. Y/n’s mother had gifted it to me when I was 7. Modeled after Seze even in color, my mother happily shed tears at the sight of the small wooden toy.

It’s been passed down. Me and Kiri played with it, then Lo’ak, then Tuk.

The toy is old and cracking now, the paint peeling away. I think love is holding it together. Tuk sleeps with the thing every night. I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable, though.

My iknimaya dodged the fateful curse of a chaotic, violence-craving ikran.

I’ve watched my brother and y/n almost die during their right of passage. Meanwhile, Rey’sa bucked me off maybe twice and it was over. Made the bond, had our first flight, the whole works.

I pet her neck, smoothing my palms over the leather skin one last time before I mount. My leg swinging over as I adjust the inner part of my thighs against the saddle.

I wait for my fathers signal.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n’s pov:

Neytiri hated when Norm and Max joined the hunt. Or any hunt for that matter. Hunting was a sacred practice to na’vi. To take a life in such a delicate way it’s almost painless. She didn’t want the sky people’s ways to taint such a delicate tradition.

You walk over to where Norm and Max were packing some extra radios in the Samson seat packs, Norm checking all the controls as he whistled a tune to himself.

When you approach, his ears perk up, and he smiles. His usual tan colored vest and shorts fashioned securely to his avatar body.

“Hey kiddo.”

He gives you a hug, ruffling a few of your braids. Mex sits behind him, sitting on the benched ledge of the side entrance to the aircraft, giving you a thumbs up and a soft smile.

Norm sighs, taking a step back, his hands on his hips as he looks you over.

“Look at you. Growing into a brave warrior. Seems like only yesterday and you and spider were running around the lab.”

Norm and Max had been like family to you. Especially with your parents always accounting for Spider, they didn’t completely understand who to raise a human boy, Norm and Max were always there with extra breathing packs and masks. Plus, being a package deal with spider meant you hung out in the lab just as much as he did when you were little. Poking around at all the link beds and making norm play your stupid little games of tag, even pestering max. Sometimes, Max would let you use his glasses to look at different plants and leaves, because you loved the way things looked under the glass.

And sure, some na’vi mothers and fathers couldn’t possibly comprehend why such intelligent, well respected clan members like your parents would leave their daughter under the watch of two sky people. But it didn’t matter. Max and Norm fared well as babysitters.

You smiled at Norm, a small laugh leaving you.

“Well. Seems like your joining us on another hunt?”

Norm nods, adjusting the radio on his hip.

“Yup. I keep telling Jake the misses’ ain’t gonna be happy with us tagging along, but he says it’s for Safety. If anything goes wrong, if RDA wants to show up for another playdate.”

You nod, thinking about the attack awhile ago.

Your attention rechannels itself towards the smaller pale creature that emerges from behind a much taller Norm in his avatar body.

Spider blinks up at you through the sheet of glass that has acted as a blockade between you both ever since we were 2. Protecting him from the unwelcoming atmosphere of Pandora.

“Y/n.”

He huffs.

“Please inform Norm here that I’m old enough to drive the Samson.”

Max scoffed.

“It’s not about age, Junior. It’s about training.”

Spider rolls his eyes, gesturing to you with over dramatic movements.

“I’m 19. I’m too old to be hitching rides on my little sister's Ikran.”

Norm shrugged.

“Fine. You can start riding with me and Maya.”

Maya was Norm’s ikran. He told you it was named after someone from the past. Back in the first war.

Her name is Trudy. Jake told you that you reminded him of her sometimes. Same attitude and rebellious spirit. She piloted a Samson 16, and always called it ‘Maya.’ You admired that he named his own set of wings after someone’s dream of flying.

Spider shook his head.

“Or, let me at least have my own avatar. So I can pass Iknimaya, and get my own ikran!”

Norm nods, a sudden wave of enthusiasm. “Sure junior. Just put 40 million on the table and i’ll have your order ready in the next..hm..12 years?”

Spider groans, rolling his eyes.

You laugh at Norm’s sarcasm. Though, a part of you really did feel bad for Spider.

Norm and Max were called over to talk with Jake one last time before the group descended, leaving you and spider alone.

You sat next to Spider on the step up to the cockpit, rubbing his back.

“You know I love you no matter what size you are, right?”

Spider scoffs, his head tilting the opposite way.

“Gee. thanks.”

You chuckled, and he spared you a small smile.

He sighed, staring out at the na’vi hunters and warriors that mounted their ikrans, preparing to descend.

You could never imagine what it was like for Spider. Being born a human on a planet he couldn’t even breathe freely on.

Ideals formed under disillusion. The little, messy-loc’d pale boy you’d help paint blue as a child is no longer shielded from the pesky whispers and glares of your clan.

You don’t think its fair. You never did. And you even found it a bit hypocritical. Considering your clan’s never ending preachings for the value of nature, balance, and adaptation.

Spider has adapted to be just like your people. And he’s done a pretty fucking good job.

Your moment is interrupted by Norm, who jogs back with Max trailing behind him.

“We’re moving out! Y/n, you’re needed in the front. Spider, lets get moving!”

You nod, grabbing your bow and giving one last small glance to spider.

He smiles.

“Be safe. Please.”

You scoff.

“I’m always safe.”

With that, you mounted Kailo, and took to the skies.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n’s pov

The wind whipped and wailed. The familiar sting of raw current against your cheeks was oddly soothing. Your team flew behind you. Neteyam, Makeup, a few others. Jake next to you, and Awkey below. The smaller group of Pa’li hunters maintain obedience in formation as the maddening rhythms of horse hooves assault the ground beneath you. The half-finished notes demand attention through the heavy thrumming melody.

“X, do you read me?”

Jake’s voice comes through your throat comm with a static quality. Struggling to maintain volume against the violent symphonies that crowded the night air.

You place two fingers on your comm, allowing your voice to cut through the mic.

“I read you.”

“Norm’s radars are picking up some heavy movement to the east. Take your squad and dive on down. I’ll catch up.”

“Roger that.”

You lift your bow, turning your head over your shoulder. Sending a call to your team, you start to dive further down beneath the canopy. They don’t hesitate to follow you, some even going as far to mimic your dive move.

You don’t have any words for what you see below on the muddied path.

You’ve been sturmbeest hunting before. Many times. But this..This was something you only imagined.

Sturmbeest in the most intense stampede imaginable, some even tripping and folding over one another. There doesn't seem to be even the smallest amount of space between them as they charge.

You made a signal for your team to disperse, some falling behind you or to the left side of the perimeter, keeping a close trail with the pa’li hunters. You saw lo’ak behind Awkey as he led them further down the sidelines. He looks just as shocked as you are.

Jake arrived on the scene not soon after.

His voice broke through your comm again, this time connecting Neteyam.

“X. stay front and center. Makeyo and Pathfinder are gonna spot you from the right. Try and find some targets. The rest of your team are far out behind.”

Minutes had passed, and you had watched the pa’li hunters desperately try to squeeze their way into the flow of traffic.

You watched a good portion of the hunters attempt at shooting one of the sturmbeest on horseback using their bow, only for the arrow to bounce off the rough exterior of the skin.

You watched a few of them collapse in a pile of chaos. 5 of them using spears only to get rammed down by a new group of the mud-covered giants, thrown with their pa’li into the dirt. The sight made you wince. Every fiber of your being just screaming for you to dive down there and help.

“Fuck it.”

You mumbled under your breath, preparing kailo to dive.

“Don’t even think about it.” Jake calls out to you.

You turn to see him, weaving through the trees on bob.

You shake your head, your long braids wildly whipping in the wind.

“Sir, we have too many hunters riding pa'li down. If we just sent support to the ground level we’d make a kill!”

Jake shook his head. “Forget it, X. Your job right now is to keep your squad in line. If you dive, you run the risk of all of them diving down after you. You say up, they say how high. You gotta keep yourself steady, kiddo.”

You hiss to yourself, your ikran feeling mutual frustration as a shrill escapes your companion.

Neteyam flies ahead with you, his bow at the ready on his side.

“Any openings?” he calls to you, and you only shake your head.

“None that don’t look risky.”

Neteyam nods, his eyes scanning the path.

“Let's get a bit closer. We can scout better angles from below.” he offers.

It wasn’t a terrible idea. You looked to your side, your eyes locking with Neteyam’s. Flames that weren’t quite worthy of being threatening engulfed a jaded voice under your chest. Promises of sunlight and safety that were agonizingly familiar shade of olive green and bright yellow. The same sounds of a bird thrashing in a cage. Exhausted and rough, and yet, there was trust beneath the surface. Like jumping off a cliff and knowing something will catch you.

He nods at you.

“I’ll be right behind you, X.”

You grab your bow and dive, Neteyam follows your lead.

You cruise above the chaos, mud flying in damp specks, your vision is clouded by dust and overbearing sensations.

Neteyam is beside you, and you can feel his gaze shifting between you and the path below in a predictable pattern.

Your eyes focus on a small rift forming in the middle of the stampede. Like a crack in the mountain. An open space where single beasts drifted in and out of a bare area.

Maybe small spaces still managed to infatuate you.

Your eyes locked onto one sturmbeest that took its turn in the middle. You reached for an arrow, pulling back the string of your bow. The familiar satisfying stretch felt beneath your finger tips as neteyam spotted you from beside, tilting himself down along with you.

You quickly devised a plan. A blockade of sorts could be created. If you shot down at least two of the biggest sturmbest, the rest would slow down because of the largest creatures stumbling about.

You traded in your singular arrow for two of your own, resuming your position as you pulled back your arrows.

Neteyam seemed to understand your plan, grabbing an arrow of his own.

You both nodded at each other, a mutual procedure seemingly placed into action.

“Ready whenever you are, X. I’m under your order.”

Neteyam’s voice sent a cold sensation down your spine. Something about obedience..The willingness to follow your every move.

You both released your arrows, one of your arrows hitting the exact same spot as his in one of the largest sturmbeest, your other arrow landing solo in the other.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The two beasts stumbled into the mud, causing the other sturmbeest to disperse into a wider path. Creating more room for targets.

Neteyam let out a celebratory war call, following your lead as you and Kailo flew up, circling Reysa and Neteyam.

“Hell yeah!”

You screeched.

“Hell Yeah!”

Neteyam mimicked you, his accented voice sounding funny on the human term spider taught you.

You both laughed, circling each other on your ikrans as the wind caught your hair.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as you both caught each other's gazes.

But it didn’t last for long.

“Y/n!”

Lo’ak’s voice screeched through the static of your throat comm, causing you and Neteyam to pause.

You placed two fingers on your throat comm, tuning into lo’ak’s distressed call.

“I’m here. what’s happening?”

“It’s spider! The Samson is dragging too close to the sturmbeest, its looking dangerously close to a collision. Dad’s comm isn’t going through and neither is norm’s! You have to get through to them!”

Your heart thrashed itself into an unyielding rhythm of uncertainty.

You don’t even answer Lo’ak. You dive back down, ignoring the calls of your name leaving Neteyam.

You finally find yourself parallel to the Samson, that, quite literally as Lo’ak described, was dragging through the air, the usual smooth running ship making unusual sounds as norm seemed to struggle along with a concerned max on the controls. A malfunction maybe? Eywa. Why now?!

You yelled to catch spiders attention, he jumped out of his seat and leaned on the edge of the side door that was now wide open, hanging out with only his arm holding him up as he gripped a bar.

“Tell Norm and Max to go up!”

You screamed, desperately making hand motions.

Spider couldn’t hear you. He leaned a bit closer to hear when suddenly the Samson dips down further, a sturmbeest bucks upwards.

Your heart seemed to completely cease beating for a moment.

You didn’t see what happened. All you knew is that when you looked back at the ship, spider was gone. The panic that sets in was enough to smother your vision in an unfamiliar color you couldn’t quite place. Panic rushed through you in bolts as all you could think of is the possibility of your brother being dead. The boy you carried around on your back for so many years. The boy who protected you from all the creepy boys in the clan. The boy who let you scream and cry and vent after Neteyam broke your heart.

A small whimper left your lips, and you can’t really tell if you’re crying or not.

The world around you seemed almost in a reflective like manner, as If kept in a kaleidoscope or a dome.

You dive down desperately, screaming for him, your voice tearing through the wind.

Neteyam dives down after you, cursing to himself and calling for spider as well.

The world around you seems to blur when you catch sight of a smaller pale creature sprawled out on the ground, unconscious.

You dive down, scooping him up by the waist and throwing him on the back of your ikran, one hand struggling to steer as another hand keeps spider slumped against your back, stretched behind you.

Lo’ak is below you, following you on the back of his pa’li.

You land a bit farther from the path in the forest, jumping off your ikran with jagged, uneven breaths as you laid spider on the grass with scrambling hands.

You freeze when you see the twitching of his hands, and the small crack in his mask.

And all you can think about is how if you lost spider, you really did have no family left.

“No, no no no no no please-“

You whispered, not knowing what to do or how to fix this.

Do you take it off? Leave it?

You resort to placing your hand over the crack, thinking maybe it’ll keep more air from slipping inside.

Your vision starts to blur with tears. And just when you place your palm atop the glass, you feel a jolt of pain rush through your wrist.

The pressure you applied had cracked the mask even more, and now tiny shards of glass had covered your palm.

You didn’t feel the pain. Not at first. But then, like the bitch it was, adrenaline was starting to abandon you.

Lo’ak hops off his pa’li and runs towards you, leaning down.

“Shit! Spider!”

He looks at you.

“What happened? What- how-“

Tears streamed down your cheeks. And Lo’ak stared for a moment as one of the strongest people he knew was crying right in front of him.

“H-he fell- I don’t-“

Your breathing becomes uneven.

Behind you you see Jake and Neteyam both land their ikrans, the Samson landing behind them a bit in the distance as norm runs carrying a first aid kit.

The air around you thieves you of oxygen as your chest becomes heavy.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, gently pulling you to your feet as your turned around and met with Neteyams golden hour eyes, his palms softly dragging down your cheeks to your collarbones,

“Hey-hey look at me. Are you hurt?”

You try to speak but the air in your lungs is swallowed instead, and you gasp.

“S-spider.”

He turns you the opposite way, shaking his head.

“Don’t look at that right now. Look at me. Just keep your eyes right here. I’m right here. Y/n.”

He looks you over, and freezes when his eyes settle on your palm.

“Shit. Your hand-“

You look down, seeing the thin trail of warm red liquid that dripped down your fingertips.

You felt like a faceless phantom in a hollow shell of a wreckage you called your body. Watching the world spin by as you remained trapped in your bird cage of broken wing bones.

You watched as Norm quickly replaced spider mask, his chest rising up and back down again like an ocean being suppressed under a sheet of glass.

You almost release yet another sob when spider regains consciousness. His eyes blowing wide like a shell-shocked animal. The sight of his pale hand gripping Norm’s much larger bicep makes you sick to your stomach.

Neteyam gently guides you by your waist to behind one of the trees, you press your back to the rough bark in hopes some kind of sensation will break this shock.

He takes your hand, grabbing the waterskin pouch from his knife sheath strap.

You watch as he pours the clear liquid onto your cut.

The cool water washing away the remnants of red and painful delirium that stained your hand was a soothing stimulation.

He’s movements are quick. Unrehearsed. A raw desperation submerged under his skin.

He rips a strip of fabric off of his loincloth, kneeling down as his knees suddenly assault the dirt with his sudden drop.

He gently takes your hand, wrapping the cloth around the wound, methodical movements carefully tying off this makeshift bandage.

He stands to his feet again, running his palms down your shoulders, then your arms, then your newly bandaged hands.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shake your head. You find yourself in an absent abstraction of a state. A warped, uncanny fabrication of reality. This verisimilitude within a broken mirror. A wondering reflection.

“You’re shaking.”

His deep accented voice breaks your wall.

You find yourself collapsing into him.

It was a blur, the whole thing.

Your face pressed to Neteyams chest as he kept an arm around you. You breathed in his scent, reminiscences in the familiar warmth of him, an almost magnetic feeling flowing through you.

And for a moment, the spaces didn’t seem too small anymore.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n’s pov.

Norm says it was an accident. And accidents are prone to happen.

You sat in Mo’at’s tent, watching as the last few warriors had their injuries cleaned and bandaged.

You fidgeted with your bandage on your hand. Neteyam’s old one had been discarded when you returned, and you were given a real wrap for your hand.

Spider was alive. His breathing was normal again, but he suffered from his fall. You’re shocked he got away with only scrapes and bruises. He wasn’t allowed to climb or leave camp for the next few days. He was confined to bed rest.

He was now resting in the lab bunks. Norm and Max promised you they would not leave his side. It gave you some comfort.

It’s funny, really. How you had no problem facing war. You were good at strategy. A fierce archer. Different from some other na’vi who felt repulsed by human things.

You were fascinated with calculations and numbers. Planning and plotting. Reading and graphing. Heights, distances, etc.

But when something so sudden and blunt like your brother almost falling to his death out of a skyship, you fumbled and almost killed him.

You fidgeted with your bracelet. The one you, spider, and Lo’ak made as children. Twirling the beads between your fingers and staring down into the void of colors and shapes.

The feeling of Neteyam’s arms around you is far from absent. His scent lingers. Honey and wooded.

When you returned, he didn’t leave your side. He led you to his grandmother's tent, gave you water and sat with you until his father dragged him away to assist with gathering the meat from the beast you both hunted up to camp.

You didn’t like being pampered or prodded at, but for some reason your skin that now feels as hollow as a shell, it practically became a ragdoll under Neteyam’s hands.

The world around you felt far too big for this small tent to be encasing the storm of thoughts under your skin.

“Y/n!”

Tuk scampers inside through the entrance, practically throwing herself into your arms.

“Oh Tuk-Tuk.” You whisper, finding familiar warmth carrying you back to reality.

You held Tuk close. As if some threat of a force would take her away. As if the hollowness that shaved your bones longs for something to protect. Something to keep within the circle of your arms.

You smoothed back her braids, kissing her head.

“You’re back.”

She whispers, nuzzling her head into your shoulder. You place your hand on the back of her head, keeping her still and safe.

“Of course I’m back. I’ll always come back. What do I always tell you, love?”

Tuk sniffles, wiping her big eyes with the back of her hand.

“It would take a thousand sky ships to take you away?”

You smiled, tapping her nose gently.

“Make it a million.”

She smiled, but it fades away a bit as she glances down.

“Is spider okay?”

You still for a moment, the familiar ache in your chest returns.

“Oh little love. He’ll be just fine. Spider is big and strong. He’s a wild child, remember?”

You scooped tuk up into your lap, pressing a few kisses to her head, tickling her stomach. She giggled and thrashed in your arms.

“Y/n! Stoppp!”

She laughed wildly.

Finally, you put her back down, letting her snuggle up next to you as you wrapped an arm around her.

It wasn’t long before Kiri and Mo’at entered.

You bowed your head slightly, greeting mo’at.

“Ma’tsahik.”

She nodded at you, placing a hand on your head, smoothing down a few stray hairs from your braids.

“The salve will take affect soon, child. But you must not use it for the next few hours. Let your mind and your body heal.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand.

“Thank you.”

You whispered.

Kiri sat behind you, starting to untangle a few of your braids from its disheveled position tied back with your beaded cuff.

“Let me straighten your braids, tsmuke (sister). It looks worse than my fathers job at braiding.

You snorted, rubbing Tuk’s back as a small giggle leaves her lips.

Mo’at started to clean up the bowls laid around, behind her entered Lo’ak.

“There’s my sister from another mister. Killer shot.”

He teases, locking his hands with yours in a handshake-hug gesture you and him

Picked up as children from watching norm and Jake do it so many times.

When you pull away, he swings his arm around you, making himself comfortable as he leans sloppily over you, pushing Kiri back further.

She groans.

“Lo’ak! You idiot! Stop making me pull her hair!”

He shrugs Kiri off.

“Relax. We all know who y/n’s favorite sully is.”

Kiri scoffs and you reach behind your head to squeeze her hand.

Before you even realize it, the broken fragments of fear and self-hatred wither away under the surface of a settled skin. No longer sleepless with worry.

The air feels lighter with Tuk’s small snuggles and Kiri’s gentle hands running through your long braids, leaving some pieces at the ends unbraided just as she always loved the way it looked on you. Your chest doesn’t feel so tight after a few of Lo’ak’s stupid jokes and stories. The laughter seemingly loosening the threads of torn tapestry.

A few hours later, Neytiri enters the hut.

“Mama!”

Tuk squirms out of your arms, running to neytiri as she smiles softly down at her youngest.

“Oh tuk.”

She hums, leaning down to kiss her daughter's head, her attention turning towards you after tuk jogged away to mo’at.

“My sweet. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, standing to your feet as she gestures for you to come closer, wrapping her arms around you and resting her chin atop your head, kissing your hairline.

“Oh my strong girl.”

She whispers, running a hand down your back.

“Strong heart.” She hums, stepping back a bit as her eyes slowly take you in.

She turns to Lo’ak and Kiri, who stand up soon after you.

“Your father has called a gathering of the clan’s hunters and warriors.”

She turns to you and Lo’ak, tilting her head upwards slightly.

“Your presence is needed. Both of you.”

You feel yourself straighten instinctively as you let her words register past the lingering haze of your earlier experience still looms over you like a storm cloud.

Lo’ak stretches, ruffling Tuk’s hair as she hisses and swats him away.

“Alright then. Let’s get moving.”

He nudges your elbow, brushing past Neytiri who softly touches his shoulder as he passes by.

“Y/n. A moment please.”

Neytiri’s slender fingers wrap around your forearm. Not harshly, but her voice has a clear coat of concern.

You pause, looking at Lo’ak once more as he ceases his strides.

“Y/n? You coming sis?”

You nod.

“I’ll be there in a minute. You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

He nods, starting to walk away.

Neytiri turns to her mother.

“Sa’nok. Do you mind watching Tuktirey and Kiri?”

Mo’at shakes her head, standing to her feet and ushering Kiri and Tuk back to the sully family marui, Kiri giving you one last hand squeeze and Tuk giving you a small hug.

Once the tent is empty, your focus rechannels onto Neytiri.

“Is there something wrong?”

You ask.

She shakes her head.

“I just wanted to see if you were alright, yawne.”

Her hands rest on your shoulders, traveling down to your arms.

“You have been through so much these past few weeks, my sweet. If you ever need anything, please, don’t ever be afraid to ask me or Jake or Tsahik. You know this.”

You nod. Smiling softly to reassure her. This woman. This strong, beautiful woman who was giving you the love your mother left behind.

“I am fine. I promise.”

She sighs.

“You have dark circles under your eyes, Y/n. Your thinning a bit. You need sleep, and proper meals.”

She cups your face.

“All I ask is that you take care of yourself, my sweet. And please, let us take care of you. We are here for you. We always have been and will be.”

She gently runs her thumb over your cheek.

“Lean on us, yawne.”

You smiled, the two of you embracing one another in a hug.

You step back after a few moments.

“I promise. I’ll practice at it.”

She smiles and kisses your head.

“Tonight may be a bit evasive for sleep, thought. I’m gonna spend a few hours in the lab before turning in.”

Neytiri tilts her head.

“The sky people room? Why?”

“To check on spider.”

Her expression sours slightly as she hears his name.

“I’m sure he is healing just fine. The sky people’s tools take no time at all, it seems.”

There was an edge in her voice, but you knew it wasn’t directed towards you.

It was a difficult case when it came to what is left of your family.

It was always you, your father, your mother, and spider. A circle of safety and familiarity that never left you unguarded.

When your parents died, you were placed under the care of Jake and Neytiri. Neytiri would do anything for you. She would go to the same lengths for you, she would go to for any of her children. In her eyes, you were hers. Hers to love.

But love is a sacrificial abstraction. (Seems to be a common theme, does it not?)

You think what frustrates her is the sacrifices you make for him. Love was a unsteadily structured sentiment. And when all his attempts seem futile in forms of pale skin painted blue, there was a sensitive inflection of utterances.

You were his sister. You weren’t leaving him.

To Neytiri, your life was a cage. Stuck with this feral human boy who fancied himself a na’vi. A soul coaxed to wild-child thunderstorms and bruised knees from tree climbing, messy locs from days of sunlit spaces.

In her eyes you were stuck with Spider.

Her love and protection was something that created a barricade between you and your brother. You prayed you would never find yourself having to choose between spider and her.

“I should go see him. Just to check on him. I won’t be there long.”

Neytiri nodded, but you can tell she was biting her tongue.

You give her one more soft smile before turning to leave.

“Y/n?”

You turn at the call of your name, and she only utters a few words.

“Your mother loved that…boy. I know she did. But you are allowed to think differently. You need not be burdened with carrying yourself and another.”

You didn’t need her to elaborate. You understood.

You nodded.

“My mother believed that connection is unconditional. The color that stains our skin and our blood doesn’t make a family. She always told me that if you bind yourself to pure hatred, you forget who you are. I love my people. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

Neytiri’s tail swished.

“Y/n. Do not abandon what eywa has given us.”

Her voice was pleading. As if trying to place tessellations of an invisible disillusionment. A carefulness edged.

“I abandon no one.”

You whispered, holding her hands.

“But please. Understand that my home was built around both me and spider. The biggest abandonment I can see from that would be leaving him behind.”

She says nothing.

She stared at you with something you didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t cold, or shallow. Her gaze monitored a retrospection of something lost. Behind a liquid glass. You couldn’t tell if she saw you in a mirror or a window.

It’s blunted and ceased after a few moments. She kisses the top of your head.

“Olo’eyktan waits for you. Go on.”

You nod at her, deciding to take that as your signal to depart.

☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮

When you arrived at the meeting spot, the first thing you see is your clans most renounced warriors in a circle with the exception of a few hunters and Lo’ak. He wasn’t quite as skilled as Neteyam when it came to certain skills, but was a warrior all the same.

You find a spot next to Lo’ak, nodding respectfully at the other na’vi easily recognizable that stood across from you.

Kyuna’s father, Makeyo and his father, Ka’ani, Lo’ak’s current teacher, and the man who took your fathers and place in teaching the young hunters undergoing iknimiya, and a handful others.

The dreamwalkers couldn’t be seen in the gathering, you assumed they retired back to their reserved part of the stronghold.

You turned to Lo’ak, who was fidgeting with his bracelet, the one you, him and spider shared.

“What is this about?”

You whispered.

Lo’ak shrugged, glancing at you, the two usual braids that framed the sides of his head falling in his face.

“Maybe we’re all gonna hold hands in a circle and dance about love and peace.”

He hummed, his face blank.

Your tail thwacked the back of his head.

“The sarcasm is not appreciated.”

You rolled your eyes.

He scoffed.

“I learned it from you.”

You felt something brush your side, you and Lo’ak both turn to see Neteyam take a spot next to you.

“Bro, where have you been? Being late for you is like-

Once in a lifetime.”

He nods, standing next to you.

“Had to make sure the ikran were tended to with a few others.”

He placed a hand on the small of your back, his gaze forged of soft honored gold, and deep skies.

“I fed Kailo and made sure he was tended to. He’s just fine.”

You mentally slap the shit out of yourself when you remember rushing to get spider to the lab so fast you dismounted Kailo without even noticing your companions weariness from the excitement.

“Shit- I completely forgot- fuck.”

You drag your palms down your face.

“It’s okay. He was fine. Still feisty as usual.”

The chuckle in his throat reverberated against the deep accent of his voice.

You felt yourself heat on the back of your neck.

“Thank you, Neteyam.”

He nodded, gently letting his hand fall back to his side.

“Yeah yeah, so kind of you-

Bro do you know what we’re even here for?”

Lo’ak not-so-subtly shoved himself between you and Neteyam pensively, unbothered by his clear dislike of your close proximity.

Lo’ak never loved the idea of you and neteyam being together. Not when you two were courting, and not now. Always pensive of you and Neteyam hanging out for too long, even doing together something as harmless as helping Mo’at back to her feet after a nap.

You always thought it was jealousy. Not the romantic type. The clan always told you that you and Lo’ak would make a beautiful match. But the thought felt like wearing clothes too big for you. Detached, displaced sense of stability. You loved Lo’ak. More than anything, you really did. But it wasn’t romantic. And Lo’ak clearly didn’t see you as wife material.

That’s fine. He wouldn’t make a great wife either to be honest.

It confused you sometimes. Lo’ak often showed Neteyam off to you, praising him. You wondered if it was sarcasm, or just respecting his brother enough to not embarrass him, but not wanting you two to court again either.

It was a mess for another moment.

Neteyam shrugged, shaking his head.

“Probably just a debriefing. The hunt was…unexpected to say the least.”

You nodded, locking gazes with Lo’ak for a moment as you both had a silent conversation.

It wasn’t long before Jake arrived, the first thing he did was check on the three of you. Mo’at followed behind him, making her way straight for the center ahead the gathering. It wasn’t uncommon for Tsahik to be present and meetings like this.

“You kids alright?”

Placing a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder, checking your hand and patting Neteyam’s back.

“We’re fine, sir. Just a few scratches.”

Neteyam affirmed, shifting on his feet slightly.

Jake sighed in relief, hugging both his sons, before dragging you into the hug.

“I’m proud of you boys. Did nice riding out there, Lo’ak. And your shot was right on line, Neteyam.”

Lo’ak didn’t show it, but you could tell he was smiling. He kept his gaze down, peering at the ground.

Neteyam nodded, a smile tugging at his lips as well. You found it cute that both Neteyam and Lo’ak, even at ages 19 and 18, were still excited about getting a compliment from the great Toruk Makto. Their father.

The two of them talked for a moment, you found your gaze drifting to Makeyo and his father. They were speaking in the crowd. Makeyo looked anxious. Almost tensed as his father kept a hand on his back, ranting in a whisper.

Jake lead the three of you to the front of the gathering, straying from the crowd a bit. “Boys, do me a favor and go make sure we have everyone?”

Lo’ak and neteyam nodded, both jogging off to weave through the crowd and count heads of all the warriors they recognized.

As Neteyam and Lo’ak walked ahead, Jake placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you what you think spider called ‘a thumbs up’

“Nice shooting, sweetheart.”

He smiled proudly, sitting down next to you on one of the crevices.

You tried to conceal a smile of your own; your attempt pathetic as you smiled up at him like a child bringing home a freshly caught fish.

“Thank you.”

He ruffled your hair.

“Two for two shot-

Eywa, you never amaze me. What was it you and Neteyam did, the uhm, the two arrows in one-?”

“And one in the other. Something I’ve practiced with Lo’ak.”

You explained, smiling as he laughed.

“Genius. Absolutely.”

You two sat like that for a moment before neteaym and Lo’ak returned.

“Father, we are ready.”

Neteyam informed. Jake nodded, stretching as he stood to his feet.

Mo’at gently touched your back as she stood next to you.

Jake held a hand up, signaling the clan to be still and quiet.

“Thank you, my people for gathering. I’ll try to make this one quick.”

Jake’s lack of informality never seemed to not make you chuckle a bit.

“I have decided to make arrangements for the trainees in the war parties.”

He turned to the group that stood behind Makeyo and his father.

“It has come to my attention that some of you have clearly been ranked beneath your current abilities. And need more open field training.”

Open field training?

It was something you had back when you were 15. A few months after your parents passed. Jake started teaching you human tatical skills. How to use a gun, far distance targets, how to read radios and signals on old ships and navigate the screen charts on the controls. You so heavily insisted on having a position fighting the sky people. You worked, and you trained, until you became the most skilled warrior on your group. Even passing Neteyam and Lo’ak in your group.

Jake appointed you to his side. And you still at the realization that the moment he appointed you, it started with a meeting just like this.

Uncertainty shaved the hopeful soul that coated your bones.

Jake continued.

“I have decided that the upper rank trainees will start with new practices. They will now be lead by Ka’ani. Awkey, you will lead the years younger.”

So it wasn’t what you thought. Your position remained, it seemed.

The sudden switch of teachers was a bit odd, nonetheless.

Jake finished his speech minutes later. It was a short overview of new tactics the warriors would be learning. New places for target practice, and unfamiliar routines.

You didn’t mind the new schedules. It seemed like less of your day would be consumed in strategy sessions.

When he finished, the crowd started to disperse. Lo’ak went to speak with Awkey, leaving you with Jake, Mo’at, and Neteyam.

Makeyo and his father remained in their spots; as if waiting for a further instruction.

Makeyo’s father, Va’ru, was ambitious to a point it was farther than frightening. Constantly trying to put his son in first place. Like a cloud formulating a storm that swirled seated under restless skin.

Neteyam stepped forward, his tail flicked slightly.

“Dad, if Lo'ak's group will be with Awkey, does that mean I will be undergoing Ka’ani’s training?”

Jake shifts for a moment, as if trying to place his words in the right order.

“Yes and no. I have a different plan for you.”

Neteyam’s eyes widened only slightly, his tail flicking.

“Sir?”

He tilted his head.

Jake’s tone was clinging to remain inconcous as he saw Makeyo’s father approach.

“Olo’eyktan. I assume this is about the private lessons for Makeyo?”

Private lessons? Makeyo was going to take private lessons with Jake?

Makeyo seemed reluctant to engage in whatever was about to happen, gently tugging on his fathers arm.

“Father. Please. There was no certainty it would be me.”

His pleading falls deaf on his fathers ears.

“Va’ru. There has been a change.”

Jake speaks slowly, as if not to wake a sleeping thanator.

Va’ru is still for a moment.

Neteaym steps forward, gently past his grandmother.

“What are we speaking of?”

He inquires, his own ounce of impatience slipping past his mask ever so subtly.

Jake sighs, rubbing his temple.

“This is not how things were supposed to go.

Over the last few weeks, I have been individually monitoring the warriors in your group to consider them for private lessons. Since Y/n is my most prominent warrior, she would be teaching the one I chose. My choice was Makeyo.”

Makeyo’s ears flicker upwards, and his father straightens, a smile forming on his face. It wasn’t genuine or even greatful. It was hungry, frenzied with torrid energy.

“Olo’eyktan. I would be honored to have Makeyo be taught under your most trusted archer.”

You felt your expression sour. Clearly uncomfortable with the energy that radiates off Va’ru.

Jake shakes his head.

“I have had a change of mind. As of a few days ago I have decided to give the role to Neteyam.”

This feels mosaic the moment you register his words. The figures around you now made of oddly shaped colors and sizes of glass. All the wrong shades.

You feel your fingers twitch and your mind go adrift. A blanket ablaze blanks your mind to a faceless slate.

Alone. With Neteyam.

The words swirl around like a whirlpool. A windless storm without the familiarity of chaos to stabilize the seas.

You try to place yourself in the vision but you can’t. You can’t seem to inhabit the precipice of this reality.

Your shaken away from the void of your thoughts as Jake places a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n. You will train Neteyam. Teach him the things I have taught you and your own ways. He will learn a lot from you. We’ll have another archer in our skies. More air combat support.”

You force yourself to nod and swallow, neteyam still seemingly frozen at the news.

Va’ru is clearly not pleased.

“Olo’eyktan. With all due respect-“

The funny thing is, there’s not an ounce of respect in his tone. Its ironically edged, as if Jake’s decision is the height of audacity.

“Makeyo has been training. He’s familiarized himself with Y/n’s methods. He studies her.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed when Neteyam’s ears pin down, his gaze narrowing as the words ‘study her’ reach his ears.

You can’t blame him. It does sound fucked up.

Va’ru digs himself in a deeper hole this time.

“He trains the younger children with her. He spends most of his days with her. He’s dedicated his time, his-“

Jake cuts him off, his voice a bit sterner this time, and you can tell his patience is slipping away.

“It’s not about time. It’s about skill. Makeyo is a very talented warrior. There’s no doubt. He’s a strong archer. But neteyam has shown promise over these last few weeks. He’s worked to improve his knowledge on the air strike patterns of the RDA. Hes flown with me to scout the perimeters of hell’s gate. He’s ready to advance to start training with newer methods.”

Va’ru scoffs, taking a step back, your tail flicks.

“You throw your son in the highest place again and again. You choose to ignore the others potential.”

Jake wasn’t one for favoritism when it came to the honest work of his warriors. To suggest otherwise was offensive.

Honor was valued among the na’vi. It was wrong to accuse him of just always picking neteyam. If anything, this was Neteyam’s chance. He had worked so hard to be seen by his dad. You knew this.

Jake took a breath to steady his urge to let this guy steal the last shred of tolerance he has left.

“Va’ru. Not infront of the others. We can speak privately-“

Va’ru’s tone was biting now.

“You cannot keep doing this. And your son can’t keep ‘running to daddy’ when he falls behind my son and can’t admit it.”

Something surged through the hungered veins under your skin. The fire never stayed absent for very long. Purging itself to cultivate on unsettled gilded flesh.

A hiss left you. The ardent prolonged end notes of something almost inhibited by a growl. A fervid, feverish vehemence whisped behind.

Va’ru’s eyes widened a bit, his prior confidence subduing under a sheet of hesitance.

Jake pushed you back a bit, a warning glare tossed towards your squirming figure to step forward once again.

“We can speak privately. But I will not allow you to insult the hard work of my son. Or question the expertise of Y/n.”

Va’ru and Jake agreed to talk privately, but you predicted just more arguing.

☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮

Seeking solitude in the hidden caves of the mountainous cave of high camp, you settled with your anxiousness with one of the corridors above the first columns.

You paced back in fourth, cursing to yourself and throwing sharp stones at the wall.

You weren’t ready. You just weren’t ready. The moment Jake and Va’ru left you ran for the farthest place you could find. You couldn’t bare to look at Neteyam.

Jake’s words from earlier pierce the surfaces of unsteady standing ground in your heart.

Love isn’t easy

You know what else isn’t easy? Having to spend all day with the man you used to dream about kissing. Loving. Hugging. Mating with.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your pulse quickens.

You remember that day. You remember the day though you waited for him under the rain.

Under a lapis hued nightfall you were ready to give him your heart. Raw and bruised and blemished and every curve and dip and imperfection yearned for his touch.

But you fell in love with the sun. And you were undeserving of sunlight.

A boy made of flaxen fanned regrets and flamed forged promises.

You loved him. You didn’t love him for the son made of stone. Through the shifting shadows and vibrant visions of excellence engraved in ecstasy that echoed through disassembled pieces of manic daydreams.

You loved him. Tormented yourself with distance and fervent optimism. Idealisms too far to be attained.

This forbidden collision of the sun and the moon.

And you waited. Damn yourself yet you waited.

You waited for an explanation for his departure. A reason for this distance.

Weeping under a wild sky, disgusted with your own reflection. The sight of yourself just a poor effort of what you could have given him.

And then your family went somewhere you cannot follow, and suddenly he seeks remorse.

It’s unfair. It is so fucking unfair the nights you spent crying over the loss of his warmth. The sunlight felt cold. The warmth wind felt unfamiliar.

And then you found the moonlight. The contingent comfort of dimmed sapphire hues and vengeance.

You refused to cry. You refused to be weakened. Your mother had seen fire and survived it. You had seen fire and burned with it-

And burn you will. Burn under the Sirius secrets whispered under the raptured intimacy of independence and its sweetening bindings.

So be it. So burn. bloodshed forging bones into bludgeons of tattered tears trains and scarred screams, soulless sleep.

Forgiveness surrounds itself in fractions of frustrations.

You damned the sky starless because all the stars had fallen with your tears waiting for him. Waiting for the voices in your head to surrender and ricochet to the shallow corners of the planes traced lines on your palm.

You recount. Roll back and fast-forwards through every memory no longer remembered under glistening sunlight poured into liquid glass, and the hues of his golden eyes.

He was daylight. He wore a halo of Helios and draped warm flesh over sun-stained soulful essence to challenge the sea and the sky. A faint heartbeat under adrift moments scattered to a tethered wind.

A man, a mask, and it’s burdens and bodies and sun-dried bones. He was a symphony and you, a mere half note of lost virtues.

Why must you constantly be at war with yourself? Why do you do this to yourself?

Do you hate him?

Do you love him?

Do you want him?

You were nightfall.

Cascades of constellations and curls of lavender. A restless shade of reddened sunset, undertoned swirling and swept to hues of purple, orange, blue, a fiery sunset. Moonlight worn like a veil, tear-stained lips and blood stained hips and yet, oh how beautiful you were. Dark and delicately dressed in grief.

Sensationalize these bittersweet story endings and happily never after forever, then maybe some more.

To restrain this punishment, this internal unredeemable consciousness.

Someone is behind you. Coming slowly into your peripheral view.

You move quickly, drawing the knife on your hip and flipping it into your uninjured hand, steadying at the perpetrators throat.

“Shit! Easy, easy…”

Neteyam holds his hands up in defense, his eyes wide at your sudden movements.

“Y/n. It’s just me.” He cautiously lowers the knife in your hand.

Great. The man of the hour.

Oh eywa must have you fucked up if she thinks you’re dealing with this right now.

“Get out.”

You didn’t mean to sound so punitive, but you were pissed, confused, and on the verge of tears. That was never a very delightful combo.

Neteyam shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“Neteyam I’m not going to tell you again. Get out. Please.”

Your voice cracked this time as you took a step forward.

“Y/n please.” He begged.

“Get out! Go! Leave! Fuera!”

You used every word you knew. Including another earth language spider had been teaching you. ‘Spanish’ is what he called it.

He winced, but only for a moment.

“I can’t. Because if I leave id just carry myself right back here.”

It satisfied you but it did nothing to console the ache in your heart.

“Then what do you want?”

You whispered.

“Another chance.”

Fuck.

You took a step away, running your palms down your face. Neteyam ignored the gesture, walking after you.

“It’s been years, y/n. I’ve dug my own grave and I’ve lied in it. I can’t eat or sleep properly anymore because it fucking eats me alive.”

Neteyam Sully was never one to curse. That was more of lo’aks calling card. So it stunned you slightly when he spoke in such a way.

You turned to face him. His golden hour eyes locking with yours.

“I don’t ask for your forgiveness. I only ask for you to hear me out.”

He took a breath.

“From the moment I was born, every single moment of my life feels like it’s been calculated. Staged, rehearsed, nothing was ever out of place. Everything was a plan- a strategy. I’m not asking for your pity but all I ask is that you understand. That life is all I’ve ever known, Y/n.

And then I fell in love with you. And you were just-“

He paces around as he walks. Talking with his hands, making grand gestures to try and articulate some spontaneous thought without really knowing what he was saying at all.

For every moment in his life being staged and prepared, this sure as hell didn’t seem rehearsed.

Maybe the sun-stained son made of stone broke like glass after all.

He continues stumbling over his words. It was rather unlike him. To be this outspoken and unequivocal with his words.

“You we’re just, Eywa I don’t know how to begin.

You were wild and unpredictable, so unbothered and reckless and passionate. You still are. You make the most dangerous shit I’ve ever seen in my life seem so graceful and beautiful. You care for my siblings, Tuk wants to quite literally ‘be y/n’ when she grows up and Lo’ak and Kiri would probably plot a mass murder if you asked them too. My mother and my father love you like one of their own. I don’t want what used to be between us ruin any of that. I’m tired of it, y/n. I’m tired of all the awkward formalities and hating eachother. And I’ll be damned if I’ve ever met a woman in my entire life who knows a bow and arrow like you do.”

You’re stunned. Everything he says sinks under your skin for a moment.

He takes a breath.

“Y/n. Please. Give me another chance. To be friends again. I miss you. I really do. You're going to be my teacher now. We shouldn’t be-“

“Just shut up for a minute.”

A small ‘yes ma’am.’ Leaves his lips as his gaze darts down a bit.

Now, if someone told you about 30 minutes from now you would be hugging neteyam sully, you probably would have called them crazy.

But now, as eywa as your witness, that’s exactly what you did.

He was still for a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you back.

You took a step back, smiling at him softly.

“Our first lesson starts as soon as my hand is healed. Don’t be late.”

And with that, you left.

Neteyam stood there for a moment before jumping up, fisting the air, a celebratory ‘fuck yes!’ Leaving his lips silently.

Maybe things made of stone can break like glass after all.

☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮

Parallels:

Biggest parallel: the “hell yeah!” Line between neteyam and y/n is parallel to this scene between Jake and Neytiri.

Spider and Y/n - Tommy and Jake (two siblings, two sides of the same coin)

Y/n and Neytiri - (learning to love even through grief)

Y/n and Jake - (’soldier mentality’ and low self image because of trauma)

Lo’ak, Y/n and Neytiri - (rebelliousness)

Spider and Neteyam- (oldest sibling responsibility)

Authors note:

I’m alive! I survived probably the longest chapter in this fic. I think I owe all my virago readers an apology. This chapter is WAY overdue. I'm sorry about that one, y'all.

But we're finally out of the enemy stage! And now I get to enjoy writing fluffy moments between neteyam and y/n, aka our resident virago and sun son made of stone.

So I just want to clear some things up before I wrap this up.

In my story, spider is a Spanish speaker. I read the original script and saw that he does speak Spanish in one of the scenes, and as a Spanish speaker and a spider stan that just warms my heart. Yes, a na’vi speaking Spanish might sound kinda cringe but it's my personal headcanon that spider would definitely teach y/n Spanish.

Btw I just finished watching the hunger games so if anyone can catch all the Haymitch and Katniss references between y/n and Jake I will literally kiss you.

Remember to pleas like, comment, reblog, and as a request from me, please comment your favorite quote. trope, dynamic, or moment in this chapter or even the story so far.

Taglist

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#neteyam #neytiri #jake avatar #kiri sully #neteyam x reader #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #avatar fanfiction #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x you

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jensengirl83 · 10 months

Text

Three Little Words

Dean x reader

Word Count-1928

Warnings-Angst, a tiny bit of fluff

Dean sat in the library, feet propped up on the table, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. His mind was racing with every bad scenario his brain could muster up. That’s how it always was with him. If anything was going well for him, he had to come up with all the reasons it would blow up in his face, and that’s just what he was doing now, thinking about all the reasons he should leave Y/N.

They had been together for a few months now, and he cared about her, but what exactly would he be able to give her? A life full of death and pain? Heartache when the inevitable happened and he met his demise at the claws of a monster, the end of a knife, or a gun? She deserved so much better, and that’s why he needed to leave her. But he couldn’t bring himself to say those words to her, to see her heart break as he told her he was leaving her. And where would she go when he told her? Could he really make her leave the bunker she’d called home for years now?

Y/N had been a friend for many years and a fellow hunter. They had offered her a home in the bunker years ago, and she had accepted. Dean had always thought she was beautiful, and he knew he had wanted her, but he held out for a long time, knowing she deserved better than him. But, a few months ago, after a bad hunt that almost took his life, she had told him how she felt about him, and he couldn’t resist her any longer.

They had all defeated Chuck, Jack was now in heaven fixing things the way they should’ve been, and he thought he could finally allow himself to be happy. Especially after he lived through the vampire hunt that ended with a piece of rebar in his back. He wanted to let himself be happy. Hell, he deserved that, didn’t he? But now, as he sat sipping on his drink, all he could think about was how he still put her in danger every day. Even though the big bads were gone, monsters still had it out for him, and being with him put a neon bullseye on her back. And how could he do that to her? Could he live with himself if she ever got hurt or, worse, died? He couldn’t. So, as much as he didn’t want to, he had to end it. He had to tell her it was over.

—--------------------

Y/N was sitting in their shared bedroom, cross-legged on the bed, eyes misty with unshed tears, a picture of her and Dean in her shaky hands. He had been so distant lately, and she knew that something was wrong, but she didn’t know what. Their relationship had been so good, and then suddenly, it seemed to fall apart before her eyes, and she couldn’t figure out what had gone so wrong. All she knew for certain was that he had changed toward her, and she needed to figure out what had happened so she could fix it. She couldn’t lose him. Not with how much she loved him. She’d never said those words aloud to him, in fear it would freak him out, but maybe she should. Perhaps that’s just what he needed to hear to change things. Or so she hoped.

She looked down at the picture she held, her heart breaking as she stared at the sight before her. Sam had taken the picture shortly after they had gotten together, and it was a photo she would cherish forever. Dean was sitting on the hood of Baby, Y/N standing in front of him, his arms around her middle and head resting on her shoulder. The smiles on their faces were bright and happy. The look of pure joy radiated off both of them. Her eyes were instantly drawn to his in the picture, as always.

His eyes had always captivated her. The bright green with golden specks reminded her of a forest of trees with the sunlight peeking through the canopy. She loved to stare into those eyes on the nights it was just them, alone with each other in their room. Those nights would always be seared into her memories, how he was so soft with her. He could be cold, hard, and even mean, but never with her.

Y/N choked on a sob as she continued to inspect the photo. What had happened in the few short weeks to put a wedge between them? What had she done to make him put the distance between them? Whatever it was, she had to try to fix it. She had to. She refused to lose him when she had wanted him since the day they met. Her reverie was interrupted by the door opening, Y/N quickly put the photo back on her bedside table as she watched Dean walk into the room, his face hard and stoic, and she guessed then what he was coming to tell her. He was going to end their relationship, which had come to mean everything to her. She braced herself for what was coming, determined to change his mind.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” he stated, trying hard to make his voice even, trying not to let it betray him and show the raw emotions he was really feeling.

“Don’t do this, Dean. Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at the man before her, her heart on the verge of shattering into pieces.

“I have to, Y/N. It’s what’s best.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it!” she shouted, her resolve breaking as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks, “I know this isn’t what you really want.”

“You don’t know that,” he grumbled, her tears making it much harder for him to convince her that he wanted to leave her because she was right. He didn’t really want this, but it was what had to be done.

“Yes, I do. I know you better than you think,” she pleaded, reaching out for him, “Talk to me, Dean. I deserve that much.”

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should sit with her. Would it make it harder to tell her what he had to say to make her leave? But, as she looked up at him, tears clinging to her lashes, her hand outstretched toward him, he knew she was right. She at least deserved for him to talk to her, even though he was going to lie to her. He couldn’t tell her the truth, of course. Because the fact was, every fiber of his being was screaming at him to wrap her up in his arms and tell her he was an idiot and she was the best thing to happen to him. But he couldn’t be selfish this time. He had to do what was best for her, even though it was him leaving her. He took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed in front of her, releasing her hand as soon as he was seated.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her heart thumping against her ribs. She had to convince him to change his mind before he shattered her whole world, “Please, Dean. Tell me what’s really going on.

“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re just not good for each other, Y/N.”

“Not good for each other, or you don’t think you’re good for me?” she questioned, hoping she was right and he really didn’t want to end things.

“Y/N…,” he sighed, hoping she hadn’t seen him flinch when she had just hit on the truth.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t want to end us. You think it’s what’s best because of who you are and what that means for me, right?”

He sat in silence, looking her in the face as he tried to think of what to say. She was right. He wanted her more than he needed air to breathe, but how was he supposed to say that to her when being with him would always put her in danger?

“You can talk to me, Dean. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, we can work it out. You just have to let go of whatever is holding you back and tell me,” she begged, scooting closer to him, grabbing his hands in hers, squeezing gently, as she looked into his eyes, “Please, just let go.”

With those words, he broke. He couldn’t hide his emotions any longer, pulling her to him as he buried his head into her neck, letting everything he had been feeling go. His tears spilled out of his eyes, soaking her shirt as she held him to her, one hand on the back of his head, the other running up and down his back, trying to soothe him. He sobbed like a child as she held him, her heart breaking with every hiccup and tear he shed. She knew she had been right and that something was making him try to push her away, but she had no clue he had been holding so much back.

“Shh, it’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ll get through it together, okay?” she cooed, rubbing his back as he began to calm down.

“I-I-I’m not good for you,” he stuttered through his tears, “Being with you is putting you in danger, and I can’t take that chance, Y/N. I can’t risk getting you hurt or losing you.”

“Losing me? Dean, you were just trying to make me leave. That’s losing me,” she said softly, trying not to further upset him but to understand what he was saying.

“I know that, but I would rather us not be together and you be alive than be selfish and keep you and something bad happens to you,” he sniffled, leaning back to look at her, “I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt because of me.”

“Dean, something bad could happen to me whether we are together or not. Do you think I would’ve quit hunting if we broke up? No. So, you aren’t putting me in any more danger than I would be alone. Actually, I’m safer here with you. I have you to watch my back and protect me if something goes wrong. So, I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting you ruin what we have. I’m the safest and happiest right where I am,” she said softly, cupping his face in her hands and leaning in to kiss him gently.

She pulled back after the kiss, smiling at him, his tear-stained face making her sigh. It was now or never, so she spoke again, “I love you.”

His heart fluttered in his chest with her words. How in the hell had he gotten so lucky? After he had come into the room determined to push her way, she had somehow made everything okay. Better than okay, actually. She had just slowly started to mend him with three little words. He knew then that he would spend the rest of his life with her. It would take time for him to learn to handle his fears, but he was determined to do it for her. With a smile on his face, he spoke the words that he didn’t know he needed to say just as much as he needed to hear.

“I love you, too. So damn much.”

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sunfyresrider · 10 months

Text

First Love/Late Spring - Chapter One

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Summary: You would do anything he asked if he said he loved you, but his heart belonged to someone else. Tags: Angst, unrequited love, miscommunication, arranged marriages, fluff, Lo'ak being Lo'ak, sibling jealously. I think that covers it but if I missed anything lmk! Translations: Lor - beautiful, Sa'nu - mama, Evi - child, Skxawng - idiot, Kehe - no, Sanhi - bioluminescent freckles Author's Note: First time writing for this boy/fandom, so critiques are welcomed. This was heavily inspired by Amy x Laurie's relationship in Little Women and Mitski's song (the title of the fic)

“What is wrong?” Lo’ak inquired, watching you pace inside of your marui. You forgot his presence inside your tent, too busy letting your thoughts consume you. “I am a failure,” you huffed out. You had never been as good as your sister at little things, you blamed it on your big fingers.

She was better at you than everything, always the jewel in your mother's eye. Tsireya could bead, braid, heal, sing, dance and was exceptional at all of it. Her personality was so soft, kind, gentle and wise… Everything the future Tshaik needed to be. It was no wonder the boy you admired from afar preferred her., You probably would too.

You weren’t jealous, at least that’s what you told yourself, It was never her fault. There were perks to being second born: lack of expectations, no overbearing parents, and freedom to do almost anything you wanted. Your mother was still encouraging you to mate with Txayì, seeing as you were the last of your siblings to be promised to someone.

He was an amazing friend, thoughtful, attentive and extremely dutiful. Txayì always did what was asked of him with no complaints, something you could not fathom doing. In truth, he was far too good for you, and he deserved someone who wasn’t pining after someone she could not obtain.

You’ve loved Lo’ak since he first arrived at your village seven long years ago, running from the sky people who hunted his family. He wasn’t a mighty warrior like his brother nor was he outwardly charming like his father, but he had a strong heart. Lo’ak brought excitement to your life, adventures you would have never dared to go on before his arrival.

His human nature, jokes and quirks, are what made him so endearing. You loved his lopsided smile that curved upwards when he found something amusing, the way he used his hands when he talked. It was no secret that your eyes followed him when he walked by, that his voice made your heart flutter or the way his dark hair fell into his eyes.

If Lo’ak asked you to jump off of a cliff with him, you doubted that you’d have the sense of mind to reject him. Thinking of him in this way made your heart ache, an invisible pressure on your chest that refused to abate. It was your feelings for him that made you miserable for most of your life. Your crush that you buried, unable to move forward with any other man as long as he lived. You would never want to confess it; he was in love with your sister.

Every moment they spent together slowly broke down your resolve, your infatuation growing into something you couldn't ignore anymore. It seemed Ewya took noticed and decided to ease your torture, cease the pain momentarily. Tsireya had found a mate, one that both of your parents adored. She seemed to have no quarrels about marrying him and leaving Lo’ak behind.

Both of you were destined to never be able to be with the ones your heart desired. “I am no mighty warrior, amazing singer or dancer. I am mediocre at best… at literally everything.” You turned on your heel, outstretched your arms, “Tsireya can do it all, sing, dance, braid, heal and everything a Tsahik should be. Aonung is a great hunter and warrior, destined to be Olo'eyktan. I’m just the second born, forgotten child with no clear path.”

You lowered your arms to your side and let out a sigh, trying to find some air that wasn't saturated with the weight of your troubles., You were hopeless. “You know, you are way funnier than both. You could be a comedian or jewelry maker- ow!” You slapped his hand, stern eyes boring into him. “I’m being serious, Lo’ak… what’s a comedian?”

He rubbed his hand, acting like it was actually injured and not just a playful slap. “It’s a human thing. Listen, I think you’re grossly underestimating how cool you are.” You scrunch your brows at his comment, not sure if you were being complimented or insulted.

Lo'ak's expression turned serious, watching your features closely, “I’ve been second best to Neteyam all my life and after the incident with Payakan my future isn’t looking too bright either.” He pressed his lips together, a forlorn look in his eyes, the one you grew up seeing whenever his brother's name was mentioned.

You let out a deep sigh, “but you swore he isn’t evil right? When the clan realizes you’re telling the truth, you could be known as the first Ttulkun rider and become legend… I want to be great or nothing at all.” Lo’ak‘s brows furrowed together, “so you believe mating with Txayì will bring you to greatness?”

“Don’t make fun. I think it would make my parents proud of me at least.” You watched him cross his arms across his chest and pout, it was incredibly cute. “Odd coming from someone who spits in the face of tradition.” You scoffed and gave him an incredulous look, “I do not spit in the face of tradition... Why do you care anyway?”

Lo'ak paused for a second, seeming to mull over his thoughts before answering. "I have no issue with it as long you love him.” You sucked in a breath, a sharp pain shooting through your chest. Lo’ak cocked his head to the side, noticing your expression, and quickly added, "and it doesn't seem like you do, not from your reaction."

“And do you have someone else in mind, O' wise one?” You crossed your arms and peered down at him with a smirk. “I’m just saying, If you really think you'll never amount to anything then why not mate with me. Like you said… I’m gonna be the first Tulkan rider.”

Your cheeks were beginning to heat up and you looked away from his gaze. He was joking but you were unable to hide the small flicker of hope that bloomed inside your chest. Your heart started to beat faster, the idea of marrying Lo'ak was enticing, something that would have never occurred to you before now.

You noticed Lo'ak had been more touchy than normal, flirtier even, but you blamed it on the lack of attention he was receiving from your sister. He didn't have any other options and your heart was fragile at the moment, so you played it off as nothing more than a joke. He would always belong to your sister, and you would never be able to hold a candle to her. “I should have known not to come to you with serious matters.” You gave him a disapproving look before continuing.

You stalked forward, picking up the beaded top you made just days earlier. It was a mixture of beautiful blues and white shells, a necklace honestly too beautiful to be worn by you. “Help me fasten this before I have to go.” You were happy to change the subject and focus on anything else.

Lo'ak walked forward, his body moving slowly like he was testing the waters, his fingers grazing your back. His touch sent chills down your spine and butterflies in your stomach. You tried to focus on the task at hand, you're a big girl and you're not a child anymore. “Why are you wearing something like this?”

Lo’ak’s head hovered above yours, his voice deep, reverberating within you. It was impossible to not feel the heat of his breath as it cascaded down your neck, his hands still on your back, gently running along the edge of your tunic. You cleared your throat, pulling away from him and twirling around. “I made it yesterday, what do you think?”

“it’s beautiful… you’re beautiful,” his voice trailed off, his gaze was soft and full of something you could not place. It wasn't lust or adoration, more longing than anything else. “Thank you, Lo’ak.” You whispered, almost unable to get the words out of your mouth. You shook your head, forcing yourself back into reality. “I have to go help my mother; I’ll see you soon yeah?” He gave you a soft smile and quick nod before opening the flap to let you leave.

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The return of the Tulkun signaled the return of clear skies and calm seas. Your spirit sister, Äiä, had grown even larger since her last visit. This year she was speaking to you about the next breeding cycle, deciding it was time for her to bear her first calf. You were excited for her, proud of how far she’s come from the lonely calf who stuck to her mother’s fin.

She was known for being the most dutiful yet filled with mischief she only showed to you. You spoke to Äiä about your own love life, seeking comfort in your sister. Of course, she preferred the boy who did not bond with the outcast. It was as if Ewya had planned it this way, not allowing you the luxury of happiness.

Even though you spent hours beneath the water with her, it still never felt as if it was long enough. Soon the morning sun faded into hues of purple and orange, signaling the night's approach. You wanted nothing more than to escape into the ocean and be with her.

However, your clan had other plans. You made your way to the mats, already prepared for the night, an empty place set for you next to Txayì. The arrival of the Tulkuns was celebrated every year, a moderately large feast and an abundance of music learned from Ewya herself.

The food was always welcome and the atmosphere always lively, a nice break from the monotony of daily life. “How was your spirit sister?” Txayì asked, his smile soft yet excited as he sat down next to you. You gave him a small smile, “she is well and hoping for a calf by next year.” He let out a hm, placing a palm on his chin.

"That's amazing, I hope she has a successful mating season." He answered, “I’m assuming you are wanting to follow her suit?” His voice was casual but there was a twinge of nervousness behind it. That was good, you didn’t enjoy overconfidence in men.

"Perhaps, if that is what Ewya wills.” You responded with a shrug. Txayì gave you a soft nod and a small smile. You’re returned to tearing the fish on your plate apart, staring at the Sulli family sitting across the fire. Lo’ak was staring right back, giving you a sly grin.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a quick wave, only causing him to smirk more. Neteyam grasped his neck, whispering something in his ear with a huge grin plastered on his face. Lo'ak scoffed and playfully pushed Neteyam, sending him into a fit of giggles. You shook your head, forcing yourself to look away from them.

"I think you should start the evening with a dance,” your mother nodded in the direction of the man next to you, it was not a suggestion and more of a command. You begrudgingly rose from your mat and stepped over Txayì, your hand grazed his own as you walked by him, an invitation for you to join him for a dance.

You spun around with a wide smile, outstretching your arms preparing to move. The sounds of the flute and drums sending vibrations through you. You closed your eyes, enjoying the beats of the music as it filled your ears. Your body started to move on its own accord, moving with the music.

Dancing was like swimming, the rhythm flowing through you as the water did, pushing and pulling you to where it desired. You let it carry you, jumping and twirling in its current. Your movements were fluid and elegant as you continued to move with the beat. Txayì’s eyes seemed to be transfixed, captivated by the sight.

You smiled genuinely as you continued your dance, it felt like an outpouring of your soul. He was not as bad of a dancer as you thought, vastly more graceful than Ao’nung who was tripping over his feet in the corner. You felt someone's gaze on your back, eyes watching all of your moves.

Your feet spun you around, staring back at the person who was disrupting your dance. Your smile faltered when you realized it was Lo'ak, his face shrouded in an unknown emotion. You followed his eyes to the man behind you, staring back at him with the same intensity.

"Who is that?" Txayì asked, his voice low and his tone laced with suspicion. "Lo’ak," you replied, shifting your gaze back to Lo'ak who was now getting up to leave the excitement. You sucked in a breath and met his gaze, placing a hand on his arm. "I’ll be right back."

You chased after Lo’ak, following him further outside the village. His movements began to slow as he reached the tree groves. "What are you doing?" You huffed, trying to keep up with him. "Lo'ak, wait for me," you tried again. “What is your problem?” You snapped at him, planting your feet in the sand.

He finally glanced at you, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "Nothing,” He muttered, turning around to walk away. "Stop being a brat and talk to me," you grasped his arm, pulling him so he was forced to look at you. He took a deep breath, raising his head as if praying to Ewya for strength. "I don't like him," His lips formed into a small pout, reminding you of a child. “Who?”

"Txayì," he scoffed, “the golden boy,” he mocked. You furrowed your brows together, "what has he done to spurn you?” You asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I don’t believe he’s right for you and you’re wasting both your time trying.” Your hand dropped back to your side, face losing its once worried expression,

“I genuinely do not understand your sudden interest in who I mate with,” you said unamused. He gave you a deep frown and a sigh, his eyes drifting down to your chest. His fingers moved upwards to trace the beads concealing your chest, “this is the one you made earlier, yes?”

Your body tensed, the air between the two of you shifting into something more serious, “Yes but don’t change the subject.” He didn't answer your question, his fingers gently tugging at the necklace around your neck. “It looks really good on you.” You sucked in a breath, your eyes following his.

“You are deflecting,” you said, trying to hold your ground. “Do you really like him,” Lo'ak asked, his voice so soft, it was almost inaudible. His eyes stayed low as he gazed at you, a silent plea behind them. “I haven’t given it much thought,” you started, meeting his stare.

"Not as much as my mother likes him, that’s for sure,” you grinned. Lo'ak smirked back, the air between you once again becoming lighter. "She does have interesting taste in mates," he smiled to himself. You giggled with him, his demeanor changing from somber to cheerful in an instant. "Was that all that bothered you?”

“Nah. you lied and told me you sucked at dancing like me, but you made everyone else look like real fish out of water.” You laughed at his childish remark. It wasn't often you laughed that hard, a pleasant sound leaving your lips. He smiled at you, his gaze softening as his eyes studied your features. “Ah, I see,” you said, tapping your fingers on your chin.

“You’re just jealous I’m better than you,” you teased. His lips parted in an offended gasp, “no way, not even close. You’ve never even danced with me before.” You giggled as his hand went to his chest. "Oh, great Lo'ak, you humble me." You bowed before him, exaggerating your movements.

"Stop with the theatrics and dance with me already." He moved forward, taking ahold of your hands. "Your jokes are always terrible." You let out another laugh as he began leading. "Better than your pickup lines at least," you joked. His hands went to grip your waist, lifting you up in the air and spinning once. You squealed, he laughed in return, “you’ve never even heard them before!”

"I didn't need to hear them, I know you too well," you giggled. Lo’ak grasped your hands again, pulling you around in a circle. “This is a human dance! Much more advanced than what you were doing,” he declared. You rolled your eyes, trying not to focus on how warm his hands felt as they held you.

"Whatever you say," you continued to laugh, moving along with him. The two of you twirled around the area, his smile becoming a permanent feature on his face. You noted a few things about human dancing, it was sporadic and spontaneous, you touched each other continuously throughout it, and it was joyful and lighthearted. You had not noticed it before but the music that filled the village seemed to fade, the only sounds being those from your lips. The rest of the world was drowned out as you continued to dance, his body moving with yours, never separating.

You hadn't noticed your surroundings, not until you stumbled into the base of the tree. He moved to steady you, but his balance was far off as well, knocking into you as you stumbled backwards. You let out a sharp gasp, gripping onto his arm for support as you hit the ground.

He hovered over you, his tail twisted under your leg and his knees incasing you. “I thought you said you were a good dancer,” you groaned. You gazed up at him, his features illuminated by the moonlight, his eyes widened, and his lips parted. "Huh?”

Lo’ak looked ethereal in the lighting of twilight, his sanhì decorating his face. The air between you shifted, the heat radiating off his body shrouding you. His eyes followed yours down to his lips, your labored breaths synchronizing. It was as if you were in a trance, the world around you becoming nonexistent. You had long since stopped moving, entranced by his presence, his scent surrounding you. He began to lean in closer, his eyes beginning to flutter shut.

“Little bro! Where did you run off to?!” Neteyam’s voice startled you both. You jerked your head away from him, pushing him off of you as you rose to your feet. Lo'ak sighed in frustration, a hand going to his face, rubbing it gently, “over here, bro!”

Neteyam rushed up to the two of you, his gaze switching between the two of you, an amused grin on his face. You stood up, fixing your braid that had fallen out of place. “Neteyam,” you nodded, “I’m going to go back before my mother sends a search party.”

Neteyam moved aside, giving you space to walk past him, his gaze still stuck on Lo'ak. "I see you are taking my brotherly advice," he giggled, glancing at his brother. Lo'ak looked up at Neteyam and groaned, falling back into the sand. “You are a cockblock."

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Ronal roughly pulled her fingers through your hair, untangling the knots that had formed overnight. You stared out of the Marui, watching the rain drops disrupt the water, the sky was darkening, a major storm brewing. "Ma evi, you have the unruliest hair out of the clan,” she huffed.

“Can you braid it this time, sa‘nu?” She gave you a quick nod and kept running her fingers through your hair. Your eyes traveled to the horizon, watching Lo’ak attempting tricks with his ilu. Your siblings and all three of his observing him, Ao’nung no doubt goading him on.

He was so reckless sometimes, always pushing his luck. If something happened to Lo'ak you wouldn't know how you'd cope with the loss. You may just pray Ewya takes you with him instead. You glanced down at the necklace that hung around your neck, a sharp pain shooting through your chest.

The past few nights you’ve been haunted by the memory of the other night, the huge mistake you almost made while in a daze.

Lo'ak was everything you wanted, yet so far out of your grasp, too far to reach. You were terrified, your future with Txayì was decided, yet your heart still pined for Lo'ak. However, as you watched him interact with your sister, the radiant smile adorning her face, his own just as bright as the sun, you knew the truth. The other night was just an attempt to heal his heart from her previous rejection.

"You are too quiet," Your mother ceased her braiding and moved her body around yours. "Apologies, I am just thinking.” You responded, meeting your mothers gaze. Her brows were furrowed together, and her lips were pursed in thought. "Thinking about…?" She prompted you to continue. "Txayì and our future.” You stated, lowering your eyes to the floor, unable to meet her gaze.

She hummed, continuing her work, "I know you better than you know yourself, evi. You are worried about the forest boy and your future with him." You shifted on your mat, meeting her stare. “w-what? No, I just-" You stammered, not able to find your words.

"Let me speak before you lie more to me.” She commanded, a knowing look in her eyes. You sucked in a breath, your body stilling in its spot. “Your father and I will not force you to be with someone you do not want,” she paused, carefully choosing her words.

"But Txayì will bring you much more happiness and stability in the future." She met your gaze, a stern look plastered on her face. “Lo’ak has bonded with the outcast. If you choose him, I fear your life will be filled with pain and turmoil you could avoid.” You sucked in a breath and tried to hold back tears, unable to respond.

Your mother reached forward, placing a warm palm on your cheek, her touch gentle yet strong, just like her. "You deserve to be happy with whom you wish, but you need to understand what you will lose as well as what you will gain and if that is truly worth it.” You gave her a soft nod, not wanting to voice your answer. Your mother released her hand, your face feeling cold in the absence of her touch.

She smiled and moved back to finish your hair. "Meet with Txayì tonight and make your choice later." She tugged at your hair, securing the last of your braids. You felt your stomach churn at the thought and the small bubble of hope that had bloomed inside your chest popping.

You felt as though you were spilt in two, the currents in your heart ripping you in opposite directions. A part of you yearned for the easy route, the best choice for a promising future. It appeared bright and rosy like a flower that had just bloomed, a vision of Txayì always being there for you.

Your heart didn't agree, however, it pined for the outcast, the Omatikaya boy who held a permanent residence in your mind. It wanted nothing more than to be with him, to live in his chaos and venture into the unknown with him. It didn’t frighten you, the unforeseen and the dangerous future that would eventually befall your life, but you would follow Lo'ak anywhere, regardless of what would await you, as long as he chose you.

But he would not choose you. No matter how much you wished for him, he would always pick your sister. You would never be able to compete with her, you didn't possess the same charm or grace as Tsireya. You've seen his eyes wander in the past and you knew it wasn't only the necklace that had him captivated.

You would be no more than second best as always. You would continue to be the shadow to her light, and you could not begrudge him for preferring it. As you stood to leave your mothers gaze followed you, the slight frown she had on her face made your heart sink. "I will go and meet Txayì, sa’nu. I'm sure he has many good qualities I have yet to see." You gave her a weak smile before turning to exit the marui.

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You ventured outside the reef with Txayì, following suit as he spoke endlessly about his own life. It was hard to listen when your mind was some place far away, thinking of someone out of reach. He was doing his utmost to impress you, wanting to be seen as someone worthy of your time.

And he was worth your time, that is but you were not worth his. It was as your mother had been saying, he was a mighty warrior and a superb hunter. Txayì was handsome, adorned with thick thighs and muscular arms, much different from Lo’ak. You liked to think Lo'ak's features were more refined, more delicate yet still masculine and appealing.

Txayì proved himself to be loyal, trustworthy, a true leader with a good soul and a promising future. He spoke about the many great achievements he had under his belt, the great stories he's heard from outside the reef and what he's seen. Txayì seemed to be interested in the few things you spoke of as well, listening intently and absorbing every syllable you uttered.

The two of you spent most of the morning together, but not once did he make an advance towards you. He seemed to be genuine, but did not possess the charm that Lo'ak did, lacking the charisma and playfulness that made you smile and made your heart flutter. That no longer mattered, you tried to convince yourself.

You had to make a choice soon, to choose what would bring you the most stability, regardless of what you would be leaving behind. "So will I see you later?" Txayì asked, stopping his movements on the shore and turning his head to face you.

"Yes, I’m sure my mother would love for you to sit with us at the evening meal." You answered, giving him a weak smile, unable to commit to a real one. He gave you an enthusiastic nod, "good. I look forward to getting to know you all better.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it as he said his goodbyes.

You gave him a quick nod and a tight smile before bidding him farewell. You watched as he left, his form getting smaller as he headed back onto shore. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervousness that was building in your gut. This is a good match, you told yourself.

After you had properly cleaned yourself, you escaped to a corner of the beach. The sum was at its highest, its orange glow reflecting off of the water. You dragged a satchel of bead, shells and various materials to make jewelry. Eventually, you needed to craft a courting present for your future mate. But for now, you intended to spend the rest of the day finishing the ones you had already started.

At some point your fingers began to ache from how long you had been braiding the strands of the jewelry together. You had never been meticulous about the bracelets you made but this was a gift. The shells you chose were shades of blue and cerulean, accompanied by nearly translucent beads you stole from Tsireya’s stash. It was coming together nicely, you thought to yourself.

The soft sounds of sand rusting behind you tore you from your thoughts. Still, you chose to ignore the person quickly approaching. “Why so blue?” Lo’ak’s voice rang in your eyes as he sat down in front of you, legs crossed. A shit eating grin plastering his face. “You’re not funny skxawng,” you scoffed whilst stifling a laugh.

His eyebrows lifted as he gazed into your lap. “Are those bracelets? For whom?” You tossed the eldest one at him, ignoring his expression. “I never got the chance to give that one to you,” you spoke in a hushed tone. You focused on finishing the most recent one, tying an Amber colored stone onto it. “This is for you too,” you spun around to face him, watching him intently as his fingers ran over the beads.

Lo'ak looked up at you, eyes widening. You could feel yourself grow more anxious, fidgeting with your fingers and swallowing hard as you tried to keep yourself calm. You spoke fast, interrupting him before he could finish his train of thought. “They’re meant to represent you, the first is to represent the forest when you were an Omatikaya… This one is to represent you as a Metkayina.”

You were unable to speak as he slowly clasped it around his wrist. He rubbed the surface of it gently, a soft smile painted his lips. “They’re beautiful, thank you… shouldn't you be making these for Txayì?” he teased, speaking in a soft voice.

You shrugged, averting your eyes, “Yes.” You felt a lump in your throat at the thought of him, the thought of your future. “What is he doing these days? I haven’t seen him around.” Lo'ak looked towards the horizon, eyes narrowing as if he could see all of the way to your village. “I would assume he was training with my father.”

Lo’ak stood up, pacing around you and softly disturbing the sand. His tail swayed, as if he was upset hearing about your future mate. You remained silent, only observing his behavior. He spoke again, his voice hushed, eyes focused on the ground. You could see the change in his demeanor, the stiffness in his shoulders, “Don’t mate with him.”

“Not this again…” you glanced up at him, his face laced with seriousness. You pushed yourself off of the sand and gazed at him. “Why?” Lo’ak stalked forward, placing his hands on your shoulders as if to hold you in place. “You know why, lor.”

You looked up at him, swallowing hard as you felt his warm fingers grip your arms. You stared into his eyes, noticing his dark pupils slowly dilated. Your mouth turned down into a frown, tears threatening to escape your eyes. Lo’ak was giving you false hope, pretending he desired you. “That’s enough, Lo’ak.”

You attempted to pull away, but he moved closer, trying to pull you back in. He began whispering sweet nothings towards you, his eyes as gentle as his voice. You took a step back and moved out of his grip, "Kehe! Lo’ak! You know better!” your voice trailed off, “I have been second to Tsireya my entire life. I will not be the mate you settle for just because you cannot have her!”

His face fell, a pained expression appeared on his face as he moved to embrace you. You ignored what your heart yearned for and stalked off in the other direction. Your harsh words cut deep within Lo’ak’s flesh, leaving unseen marks on his heart. He loathed when you were upset with him, especially when he was the cause of it. Lo'ak assumed after the other night you were riding the same wave, obviously not. His tail wrapped around himself as he sat on the sand, the droplets of rain beginning to soak his hair.

He understood the pain of being second to his sibling and never being someone’s first choice. But he had also wanted you for much longer than you realized. He’ll admit Tsireya was an amazing friend, and truly helped him learn how to be one of the people. But that was all she was to him, a friend.

Not to mention Txayì would never be able to make you happy, he was too bland and far too perfect. You’d get bored of him after a few moon cycles and regret choosing him for the rest of his life. The thought alone was driving him insane and everyone around him knew it.

How could he make you see him? To understand just how much he yearned for you too. That you took up the most space in his heart and head, leaving little room for any other thought. He sighed deeply, falling back onto the sand and staring up at the darkened sky. Lo’ak closed his eyes, fantasizing a future that was so close yet completely untouchable.

To be continued….

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juliettedunn · 1 year

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Luz’s Softness in Thanks to Them

We all knew Luz was going to have an angst arc in Thanks to Them. Her angst had been building long before then, and King’s Tide was the final straw.

Angst is popular in characters like Amity and Hunter, who act cold and mean as a result of deep pain on the inside. If they cry, it’s in secret, hidden away from anyone who might see through their confident persona. The “bad but sad boy” / “I act like I don’t care but I secretly do” type, to quote Luz.

That’s not what Luz does. Luz cries multiple times in front of others in Thanks to Them, and even has an emotional outburst in front of her teacher in classmates.

It’s the classroom scene that has a lot of people saying Luz is being “cringey,” and that they have to cover their eyes from “second-hand embarrassment.” I’ve seen post after post mocking that scene, saying Luz needs to “sit down and shut up” and that she has a “y/n complex.”

Whether a vulnerable person gets sympathy or ridicule from others is based on mysterious standards of what are acceptable and unacceptable ways to act when we are at our worst. And what is acceptable for some isn’t acceptable for others (white favoritism, especially in the fandom’s response to Hunter’s over-the-top emotional displays vs Luz).

Luz’s outburst in the classroom was highly impulsive and not something many would do, but Luz doesn’t know how to ask for help, not when she feels too guilty to confide in her friends and family.

Luz is at best passively suicidal in TTT. It’s actually one of the first times she DOESN’T see herself as the main character, she sees herself as the selfish villain, the “evil Lucy” rather than the good witch Azura. Her self esteem is at an all time low, to where she doesn’t think she truly deserves love.

It’d be so easy to lock herself away, bottle those feelings inside and turn cold. Many thought this was the direction her character was headed in. And Luz does indeed isolate and keep her inner feelings secret.

But she remains soft and tender-hearted, constantly cheering on her friends and supporting Hunter through his hardships even when she herself is at her worst. She even lets her silliness peek through, calling a possum a “little angel.”

Despite her low self esteem, she very clearly WANTS someone to help her and intervene. She wouldn’t have had the classroom outburst if she didn’t think there was some worth in making her feelings clear, some hope that someone might respond to her and perhaps tell her something different. Which makes it even more heartbreaking when the class gives her a weirded out look and then ignores her.

If someone behaves this way in real life, it should be taken as a serious warning sign, not as a “Oh my god that’s so cringe” moment.

You can see multiple times in the episode Luz fighting her depression, like when she goes to cuddle with Camila. When she asks Camila to let her stay in her bed, it struck me how amazing she really is for being able to do that.

Luz feels she doesn’t deserve to live, yet she still desperately wants to. She wants to hold on so much that she manages to seek comfort, despite her guilt telling her she shouldn’t be receiving it.

When I was her age and in her mental state, I didn’t have the ability to do something like that. Seeking help when you’re in that kind of state is one of the hardest things to do, and Luz does it multiple times.

For people to call her a cringey embarrassment for having an outburst is in very poor taste, and a bad sign for how we view signs of mental illness in real life.

Not everyone who angsts will be like Hunter and Amity, becoming aggressive and/or cold towards others. Not everyone can hide behind thick skin. Some become softer and more sensitive, cry more easily. The latter is in fact the healthier and often more difficult option.

Some expected a cold, withdrawn cynic, hiding away her emotions. Instead we got a messy, tender-hearted girl desperately seeking help in impulsive outbursts.

The fandom is finally starting to focus on her angst and trauma, but let’s not forget the strength that lies in her unfaltering softness as well.

Luz is a loving, kind, strong, beautiful disaster, and she deserves better from this fandom.

#luz noceda #the owl house season 3 #toh #thanks to them #the owl house #julietteanalyzes

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netherfeildren · 1 year

Text

FEAR OF GOD: Chapter VIII: The Fisher King

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Teach me how to ask for forgiveness, even when I know I don’t deserve it.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: angst; PTSD; very brief mention of infertility in the first section, description of injury

A/N: Art is Breach by Keith Perelli (2006-2007)

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII: The Fisher King

But still. Still.

Bless me anyway.

I want more life. I can’t help myself. I do.

I’ve lived through such terrible times, and

There are people who live through much worse, but… You see them living

anyway. When they’re more spirit than body, more sores, than skin, when they’re

burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in

the corners of the eyes of their children,

they live. Death usually has to take life

away. I don’t know if that’s just the animal.

I don’t know if it’s not braver to die. But I

recognize the habit. The addiction to being

alive. We live past hope. If I can find hope

anywhere, that’s it, that’s the best I can do.

It’s so much not enough, so inadequate but

…Bless me anyway. I want more life.

-Tony Kushner, Angels in America

“Do you think you’ve been happy, so far?” you ask her one night.

“I think so, yes. Have you?” Her answer is immediate. She’d never been one for much indecision – that was always your role.

“Yes. At times. I’ve also been very sad.”

“Me too.” You can hear it now, that sadness, in the quietness of her voice.

“I hope we can be happy in the future. That we’ll be together, always.” The two of you are laying under the stars, hidden in the forest, in your old sleeping bags. She says the trees guard you, keep you safe. If you’d had more experience, you’d have felt very close to death in that moment.

“We will be. Don’t worry about that.”

“I don’t want either of us to die,” and you can hear how young you sound, how naive. Despite all you’ve been through, you’ve not been able to let go of that part of yourself. When you’re older you will think that, perhaps, that was not such a bad thing.

“We won’t. That won’t happen.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can. I have a plan. If we stick to it, we’ll be okay.”

“Alright.” Your trust in her is implicit, after all.

She is very quiet for a while after that, you think she’s fallen asleep, but then suddenly: “You know, I can’t have children.”

“How do you know?”

“Things were off – Dad was able to run some tests.” That sadness is there again, echoing in her voice, and it is a very painful thing to hear from someone you love so much – someone you know would want that for themselves.

“I’m sorry.” For there is nothing else to be said in light of such a tragedy for her. She would make a wonderful mother.

“It makes me really sad.” There’s quiet again, for a long time, but then: “I know it’s a terrible world. Not safe – but still… It makes me very sad.”

“I’ll have one for the both of us. We can share.”

One of the last times you ever hear her laugh – you should have cherished the sound more – branded it in your memory. “I’d like that.”

Beth is dead two days later.

He sits by your sick bed for days. Shrouded in darkness, he lets his fear, his nightmares swallow him whole – the great gaping maw of a monstrous dream come to fruition. He thinks of Sarah’s mother, his ex-wife, for some reason – can’t understand why she comes to his mind in this moment, honestly. He hasn’t thought about her in decades, that woman he’d known so long ago – can hardly remember her face now. It makes him indescribably sad.

He’s trying to prevent his mind from dissociating. To keep himself present, in case you wake, in case you need him. But the sight of you, small and pale and broken. So still. It fractures his mind in a way he cannot understand. The days of you being lost – of his mad flight to find you, out with teams of hunters, combing the forest for any sign of you, the way he’d screamed at Maria and Tommy and Ellie and anyone else who got too close, spoke too loudly. He’d been extremely close to violence, of the unimaginable sort. That terrible last night, his own destruction, flashing over and over and over in his mind, the things he’d said to you. He could not compare the terror to anything else he’d ever experienced before. The pure horror of that being the last memory you’d ever have of him, of coming across your dead, mangled body, of never seeing your bright, unguarded smile again – in decades filled with fear, day in and day out, he now felt he’d been infected with the most unimaginable of diseases. A stabbing, bone melting pain to his mind, his heart, his flesh, again and again, all of his own making.

This is his fault. He did this to you. Pushed you away. Made you feel like you needed to flee, escape him. He wants to be angry with you for being so stupid, for going out there without him. But how could he not understand it – for what choice did he give you? That you’d prefer to face the monsters out there, rather than the one inside, the one in front of you – rather than him. He thinks he too would rather face the horrors out there, a thousand infected, than face himself. Face his own guilt, his own shortcomings.

He still isn’t speaking to Maria – can barely look at her. He’d told her if you were dead it’d fall on her head. That he’d blame her for it forever. It was a viciously unfair, nasty thing to throw at her when he’d been the one to push you away, the one to tell you to leave, when this was really all his fault alone.

He thinks of Tess – how he’d not been able to keep her safe either, all that time ago. A regret so profound, he’s sure he’ll swim in it for the rest of his miserable life.

Ellie had said sending you away that night had perhaps been the worst thing he’d ever done. The sight of you in this bed proves that fact, and he is filled with a rage so black, so all consuming, it cripples him, will send him to his grave if you don’t come out of this.

He hasn’t slept in days. Merely closing his eyes to rest his racing mind a few moments at a time. The baby you’d had with you has been with Maria. Tiny, squealing, rageful thing that she is. She only quiets when Maria brings her into your room, lays her beside your sleeping form. As if she knows already, even now, that the best place in the entire world is at your side. He closes his eyes in the quiet interminable moments of waiting and tries to picture Sarah’s mother in his mind. To remember her face. He cannot. There’s only a flash of dark curls. The sound of her voice, gone to time. All he can conjure with clarity is the image of Sarah’s smiling face that last morning he’d spent with her. His most precious memory. Something he exercises in his mind every morning when he wakes, lest, he too, forget that. He wonders if she’s still alive, what happened to her after the outbreak. He hopes she survived – hopes she lived a life not too full of terrible, painful things. Although, he isn’t entirely sure there exists any other version of this life anymore. He hopes he can find it, if it does, and give it to you, if you’ll let him.

He looks back at your resting form. The welts and scrapes that had marred the side of your face are healing well. The swelling receding into angry bruising. Nancy was worried you’d sustained a head injury, as an explanation for your prolonged unconsciousness, but neither the bones in your face, nor your skull were broken. Perhaps only a mild concussion, she thought. It inclined her to believe this was simply a side effect of the blood loss you’d endured from the wound in your side, the exhaustion and trauma.

Joel thinks he might become a religious man after this. Thinks he might start going to church, prostrating himself at the effigy of the cross to thank whatever higher power there exists for bringing you back to him, keeping you alive, allowing him another chance to see that smile, even if it’s never directed at him again. Because that is something else he is terribly afraid of. That his last words to you that night, will be the only thing you’ll ever be able to remember of him. All you’ll ever be able to see of him, going forward. He is so, so afraid of the consequences of his own terrible actions. Terrified that the moment he cast you away will be the only moment the two of you live in together for the rest of your lives.

And he thinks: Joel Miller, you are a man made up of fears.

The first thing you see when you finally open your eyes again are his hands. They’re scarred. Tiny, faded marks of a life past, marring the lines of a map of all his pain, his history. Your body hurts, one large throbbing bruise. But the fire in your shoulder, the muscles of your back and arm, has abated. You say a silent prayer of thanks that you’d been able to keep from straining it more. Any more damage and you’d have probably lost function of the limb entirely.

His eyes are closed, his temple pressed against his fist on the arm of the chair pulled up to your bedside. The house is entirely silent – dark and peaceful. You stretch your legs under the blankets, no terrible amount of pain, and his eyes spring open immediately at the subtle sound of your shifting. So attuned to you, that the mere rustling of the sheets brings him to wakefulness. You watch the dilation of his pupils, everything else frozen in place. Head still resting against his fist, he stares at you wide eyed and unblinking. You take in his face – his eyes are bloodshot and rimmed in the harsh purple bruising of exhaustion. His too long, messy curls lie limply across his forehead. He looks haggard, wrung dry. The most defeated you’ve ever witnessed him. Neither of you say anything as you study the other. He still hasn’t moved and the look in his eyes – afraid, resigned, like you’re a predator about to come in for the kill strike.

You feel indescribably sad for him, seeing him like this. Brought down low. It’s wrong. Not an image of the Joel you know that should exist in the world. You’re sure you mustn’t look much better. Broken, the both of you, in this shared moment. You slowly start to slide your palm across the bed towards him, and like a flip bringing him back to life, he melts onto the ground from the chair. Coming to kneel on the floor at the edge of the bed, he grasps your outstretched hand and presses his forehead into your palm, his grasp so, so gentle. His other hand snakes up, under the blankets to grip your bare knee in his warm palm, his thumb slowly sweeps over the bend.

His shoulders begin to jerk, in tiny little gasps. He’s crying.

“I was so afraid.” It is choked and guttural, a confession of the highest order, an admission of weakness, a supplication for mercy, for forgiveness.

You know that his words are all encompassing. He was afraid that night, when the two of you were attacked, when he told you he loved you, when he sent you away, when he couldn’t find you. He’s been afraid for decades, since the moment he met you, since the moment his daughter died. Your heart cleaves in two at the sight of his defeat. The hot slide of his tears through the spaces between your fingers, pooling in the cup of your palm, the liquid feel of them burns you, incites a violence in your heart to rise up at the sight of his suffering, of his pain. But you say nothing. Too weighed down by your own terror, your own pain.

By the prospect of having to tell him the truth. The secret you’ve been carrying with you, that you’re pregnant. Terrified of his reaction. Of his possible rejection. For it isn’t just you anymore that would feel the loss of him. There’s two, three, of you now. And you’re terrified of having to ask him to bear this with you. Don’t want to have to ask. And part of you knows, is positive, that he’ll be there for you without you ever having to even ask. That there would be no question of it. No other alternative. That if anything else, the man before you is honorable and good – despite his violence, despite his sins, despite his fear, he is good. He would never abandon you to face this alone. But still, you’re afraid. Just as he is, just as he has been. So you say nothing, simply bring your other hand up to cup the back of his bent head.

There are no words that could fit in the quiet space of your room in that moment – so swollen is it with all your shared fears, all the things left unsaid. You let him cry.

Ellie finds him sitting on his front porch, guitar in hand, strumming gently – a mug sits by his side. There is no fight to be had now, this she knows. Perhaps no reconciliation, either – not at this moment. But there is much to be said, still, or even perhaps, merely silence to be shared. This is her olive branch. In the days since your disappearance, and then since you’d been found, recovering, she’s had a lot of time to think. To consider her choices.

“Hey.” The look on his face as he watches her walk up guts her – so full of reluctantly glad surprise.

“What’re you drinking?”

“Coffee.”

Of course. “Where’d you get that?”

“Uh… those people that came through last week. A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it, but … it’s not bad.”

“Oh,” she’s slightly at a loss for what to say, how to continue. Their once easy banter seems so unreachable with so much laying between them. “You need to stop harassing Jesse about my patrols.”

“Okay,” he says succinctly – like he’s not going to take her incendiary bait. He looks away, considering what he’s about to say next. “Dina. Is she your girlfriend?”

And nope, she sure as fuck hadn’t been expecting that one. “No! She – That was just one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything,” she denies, referring to the kiss he’d accidentally witnessed last night when he was on his way home from trying to see you. “She just… I don’t know why she did that.”

He tilts his head contemplatively, gives her a knowing look. “You do like her.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“Look, I have no idea what that girl’s intentions are, but I do know that she would be lucky to have you.”

And she knows she told herself she didn’t come here to fight, but he’s so damn aggravating and nosy, she can’t help it. “You’re such an asshole!”

“I’m not trying to –”

“Just – just leave it.” She snaps, looking out at the dark road. “Have you been in to see her today?” Veering towards less conflictive ground.

“Nancy didn’t let me in, said they were both restin’.” He drags his hand tiredly over his face, “Haven’t had much of a chance to talk at all.”

“But before… how’s she been?”

“On the mend – tired, I think. Nance said she’s recovering well. But quiet. She– she doesn’t much want to see me, to be honest …” Maria had said you’d been withdrawn. Not really wanting to see anyone besides Nancy and the baby.

“That was – When we couldn’t find her… Scared the fuck out of me.”

He looks down into his mug of coffee, his jaw shifting side to side, “Yeah… yeah. I– it was–” She knows he can’t discuss it, can’t even voice the terror that gripped him at the thought of losing you. Something about the confirmation of knowing how much he loves you, settles something within Ellie. Reinforces the resolve in her heart.

“Not just for her though. I was scared for you too.” The look he gives her then – she sees that flicker of desolation she was so scared he’d be lost to forever if you’d not come back – if you’d died. There isn’t much left in Ellie that’s overly sentimental, but she could cry at the relief of knowing you’re okay, the both of you.

“Kate’s cute as fuck,” she smiles.

“She is… got those big blue eyes.”

“What are you gonna do? With them?”

“Not much I can do, I guess. ‘Cept take care of ‘em. Keep ‘em alive. If she’ll have me…”

“Love them,” she adds, and he hums in agreement, tilting his head a bit. No point in hiding it, he’s gone soft, everyone knows now, might as well embrace it. Put up a sign. “Well,” she continues, “We both know you’re good at doing that, at least,” her eyes are full of laughter, full of memories. “Taking care of misbehaving girls that can’t ever do what they’re told.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kiddo. You listened sometimes.”

“Yeah…” she chuckles, “You’re right, there was the rare occasion.” Her grin is roguish..

“Guess I’ve got enough practice ‘bout now, don’t I?

She goes suddenly serious, “Do you ever feel ashamed? When you remember what you did?” The question is abrupt, as if she wasn’t expecting herself to ask, but couldn't help it. She could be referring to so many things, so many sins.

He thinks about the day after Sarah died, when he’d been so ready to follow her to whatever end. His mind shies away from the memory – that is shame – a wound healed over, but still tender if pressed on too harshly. But he considers it now, in light of her question, how the overwhelming feelings driving that choice had been acceptance in that instant. A readiness to be done with all that continuing in a world without his daughter promised. Fate had granted him the opportunity to flinch, a chance he’d then passed on as a gift to Ellie. No matter how she saw it, he’d given her a chance to flinch. Something perhaps, one couldn’t recognize had they never consciously held that cold gun in their hand, pressed it to the tender nook of their temple and looked their own mortality in the face. But he’d given it to her, and not even an entire life of reliving all he’d endured as of yet, could ever, ever make him regret that choice. A parent did what they could to give their child the gift of choice. That was, in the end, the only thing one could do. The gift of choice, something he now had and so arrogantly squandered. Birdie was his choice. Fate had given him a gift once again, now he had to consciously decide to flinch or not.

“No. Never.” There is no doubt – no room for doubt. “I told you once, if I ever had the chance to do it again, I’d do it exactly the same.” There was a space where one could exist with their sins and not resent them. Joel knew it well now. There was only one road that had led him to this moment, to this place. He could not regret the decisions that’d brought Ellie to this life of peace and safety. That had brought him to your door. You had never felt like a sin. The sight of you, it made him calm, so free. There had been fear, too much of it, but never regret, never shame alongside your name.

“Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?” he asks her, and he can see the question takes her aback, a second of shock crossing her face. It’s all the answer he needs – for the thought to never have even entered her mind. She shakes her head, sharp and quick, “No.” She pauses, and then says, “Fuck your fear, Joel. If that’s what’s keeping you from her you have to let it go. It’ll be the thing to kill you in the end. Maybe not dead in the ground, but in a worse way.”

“I know…I know, Ellie.”

And so what if he had been afraid? In a world, a life, overrun with the worst possible outcome playing out in real time, what was one more terror? He realized it wasn’t the fear of loss that held him back. It was the fear of himself. Of his own inadequacy, his own monstrousness. Because he’d already lost you. Could feel the current loss of you, your absence, acutely. Like a gaping, putrid wound. The days you’d been missing, that he’d been so fucking terrified that he’d never see you again, that you were dead, as he searched desperately for you – he was already experiencing that which for so long was the reason for his denial. And he could think of nothing now that could be worse than not having you. Of knowing his little bird was existing out in the world and that he couldn’t touch you, hold you, kiss you. Fuck his fear indeed.

What did it matter if the world was vast and cruel if, in the end, they had one another?

“I struggled a long time with surviving. And no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for, something to be brave for,” he repeats his long ago words to her.

“You keep going for family… And she’s family.”

“Yeah… she is.”

“All this, it can’t have been for nothing.”

“It’s not. It won’t be.”

Existing in a grave for all those years, only to be violently pulled awake by a forest fire of a little girl – it changed the nature of a man. His nature had been changed irrevocably. And he needed to give this new version of himself to you now, in its entirety. And what struck him most was that despite all this, despite all he’d changed, lost and grown, since the start of all this, since Sarah died – who he was hadn’t entirely been determined yet. There was still possibility within him. There was still hope for more. And you saw that, you’d always seen that.

In a sudden startling way, he could perceive what he was, what he lacked, what he could be. You shared that perception; your vision of him was another gift. What was it about this sudden acute sense of self perception that was so close to madness, and how was it that suddenly, when you realized you were in love, it was as if you were able to see the world as it really was? Cordyceps had blanketed the earth in a film of death that he now saw in spectrums. There was a spectrum to death as it existed in the world, as what you allowed it to shape itself, and you, as. How did you perceive death – loss? How did you let it affect you when it inevitably touched your life? Was it to overwhelm you – or exist alongside you as simply another phenomena of nature? He could exist on that spectrum set about by nature or he could break free from it. Cordyceps – and all humanities’ basest desires it catered to – could go on existing, could continue to subjugate the world to its will, but he would break free from that subjugation of fear, of death, of failure, he would live his life now as he chose to. He could perceive with such clarity now what was real and what was not. His little bird was real and alive and waiting for him. This was no delusion, no farcical whim; it was a glance down into time – into the realities he’d once known and lived in, a world before calamity and fungus and dead little girls – and it wore the staggeringly beautiful face of you, a glance at the woman he loved.

“She’s angry with me. I– I hurt her.”

“Hmm… True… but she isn’t like us… she’s good. Kind. She’ll forgive you. She understands you.”

“Perhaps,” he says, but he isn’t sure, is terrified of the alternative, will try and make it up to you for the rest of his life if you need him to.

“Maybe time’ll be the thing to heal this wound”

He pauses at that, “It wasn’t time that healed it… remember?” The memory of their past hangs, once again, heavy in the air, but perhaps now, in this moment, a bit lighter than before.

She shakes her head, gives him a small smile, “I remember.”

She’s quiet for a moment, pensive. He’d missed her so much. This easy casual nothingness between the two of them. Just being together, talking. And as he takes her in, her chin tipped to the breeze, eyes closed, he thinks: if he could have done it all again, he would have loved her better. Perhaps made better choices. But he could not have loved her more.

How broken, how small he must have been, just a short time ago, to have found that thought so difficult to confess, even just to himself.

“Go find her, Joel. Tell her what you need to tell her.”

Chapter IX

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#FoG fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal

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