rosymccheese

[rosymccheese]

anakin headcanons please I feel like he is such a sweetheart

absolutely

Anakin cannot sit still. If he’s not pacing, spinning his lightsaber absentmindedly, or drumming his fingers against the nearest surface. The only time he’s truly still is when he’s asleep.

Anakin is touch starved. He doesn’t even realize how much he craves physical affection until someone gives it to him. He absolutely loves any kind of physical contact, especially from you.

Anakin is absolutely terrible at hiding his emotions. He thinks he’s good at masking his feelings. He’s not. If he’s annoyed, his entire face will scrunch up. If he’s happy, he grins like an idiot.

Anakin hates fighting with you. But he’s emotional and sometimes reacts first, thinks later. If he raises his voice and sees you flinch? Immediate guilt. He will apologize. But it takes him a minute to calm down first. He never wants to go to sleep angry at you—he can’t. Arguments with him are brutal but rare and the apologies are raw and real.

Anakin's love language? All of them. He'll do anything for you, let's be real. Broken kitchen appliances, lightsaber malfunctioning, com link not working..He's fixing it for you (acts of service). He loves to spend time with you. He'll tag along just about anywhere. (quality time). etc..

Anakin needs constant reassurance He needs to hear you tell him that you love him. He needs to be reminded that he is worthy of your affection, especially after a fight or a stressful situation. If you tell him you love him, he holds on to those words like a lifeline. He’ll replay them in his mind, constantly seeking that validation.

Anakin would not come to you with his problems in the beginning of your relationship. He’s far too prideful, fiercely independent, and conditioned to believe he has to handle everything himself. Overtime he does crack and he absolutely hates it. "If you knew everything about me, you wouldn’t want to be here." He tends to withdraw from you after opening up, convinced you see him as weak and unworthy of your attention.

Anakin's your biggest supporter. It doesn't matter what you're doing, Anakin is right there cheering you on. He believes in you—deeply. He’ll also be the one to celebrate your victories with you, no matter how big or small, because he knows how much effort you put in.

Anakin may not always be romantic, but he’s thoughtful. He remembers the small things—the book you read, the song you love...He will go out of his way to surprise you with things that'll make you feel loved. It’s not grand gestures all the time, but rather the meaningful moments. "I heard this song and thought of you. It’s silly, but I wanted to share it."

Anakin will also make sure you’re always taken care of, whether it’s making sure you’re well-rested or helping with a problem before you even ask. "I just want you to be happy. I’ll do whatever I can to make that happen."

Hope u guys like it! Lmk if u want a part 2

[rosymccheese]

-> To have found you was the world's regret, not mine

trueform!ryomen sukuna x reader

summary: born with two too many limbs and faces, he was abandoned, left for the nature to bury him in a grave at the mere age of six. apparently, there was one enemy to the nature of the world, who seemed to go against every rule of survival; you.

warning/s: heian era, smut at the end (skipable), sukuna has two dicks, use of sukuna's stomach mouth, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink, praise and degrading kink, overstimulation, aphrodisiacs, angst, mentions of blood, nearing death (no actual death though), sukuna's villain arc, he was a monster you'd never despise, growing up together, they were both doomed from the start, fluff so i don't end it all, sukuna using you as a weight for training

a/n: i have no words. this man awakens something inside of me.

The rumors had spread like wildfire.

The child born with too many eyes, too many limbs, had devoured his twin in the womb. A demon cloaked in human skin, they whispered. He was evil incarnate, an abomination that would only grow stronger if left unchecked. But killing him outright would be a sin too great for their souls to bear. So they left him to rot. On the desolate side of the country, where even the air could be considered poison, they abandoned him.

They thought they'd washed their hands clean.

They thought starvation would take care of what they couldn't.

But death didn't come as quickly as they had hoped.

Sukuna was nothing more than a husk of a boy now, his four arms limp at his sides, his ribs threatening to pierce through his skin with each shallow breath.

Nature, just as cruel as mankind, had left him no mercy.

And then you appeared.

"Hi,"

The sound was soft, almost too soft for his dulled senses to catch. He barely mustered the strength to crack open one eye, a faint glint of crimson meeting yours.

"What?" he rasped.

You didn't answer right away, instead stepping closer to the monster that the land itself seemed to despise. There was no hesitation in your movements, no fear, no disgust.

"You.. you're just like me," you murmured.

Sukuna's lower right eye twitched, barely enough to take you in. You were as battered as he was—maybe worse. Wounds marred your body, some barely crusting over due to the lack of vitamins, others oozing sluggishly with infection. Your skin looked like it could rip at any given moment, stretched too thin over bones that jutted out in sharp angles.

You looked truly pitiable.

But Sukuna didn't care. Or at least, that's what he thought.

He was going to die anyway. Forming a bond would be useless.

He scoffed, his head lolling back against the harsh, cracked tree he was leaning on, waiting for death to take him away at the mere age of six.

"We're both dying,"

You said what he couldn't, spoke his mind instead of plastering him with questions.

You were younger than him, yet knew such harsh reality to come.

Your lips quirked in something resembling a smile, though it faltered under the weight of your exhaustion.

The boy hummed in return.

With that, Sukuna let his eyes fall shut, deciding to fade out the world— and you— with it.

Hours later, a sharp scent cut through his haze.

Sweet.

Fruit.

His eyes snapped open. He turned his head and found you kneeling beside him, holding a piece of overripe fruit out to him.

"Eat," you simply said.

He snarled— or at least tried to— but his voice came out weak and hoarse, "Don't… pity me."

Your brows furrowed, frustration taking over you. Without a word, you leaned closer, your small hand pressing against his chest. His eyes widened, alarm breaking through his mind.

"What are you—"

Before he could stop you, you raised the fruit to his stomach mouth. Its sharp teeth parted instinctively, and before Sukuna could refuse again, you fed him.

Your fingers brushed against his canines, but you didn't flinch. You didn't so much as blink as the beastly maw devoured the offering, juice dribbling from its corners.

His lower eyes narrowed, glaring at you even as the sweet taste spread across his tongue.

"Stupid brat," he muttered, but his voice lacked any true hatred. Towards you, that is.

You didn't respond, only settling back into your spot beside him, already reaching into a cloth bag for more.

"Wh-what's your.. ah- your name?" you mused as you revealed another fruit to him, guiding it to his stomach.

Unlike him, the maw ate gratefully.

He seemed to think, his body relaxing at the feeling of it getting taken care of.

Truthfully, the boy didn't have a proper name. He was named Ryomen due to his two faces— that was all to it.

He grunted, "Sukuna."

You smiled, repeating the name. With a grin, you revealed your name to him.

And surprisingly, he did the same thing.

He repeated it.

This became your routine.

You, a ghost of a child, scavenged for what little life had to offer. Sukuna, the boy they had condemned as a monster, became your charge.

Each day, you'd sneak into villages, weaving through the shadows like smoke. You stole food, medicine, anything you could carry with your frail form, and brought it all to him.

You hardly ate yourself.

No one knew who you were, only that you'd often show up and steal relentlessly.

"That stupid brat! Don't let her get away next time; she needs to be punished properly!"

"Sinning at such a young age is so unfortunate. May she find the right path."

"—there's no right path for her! The devil's captured her soul— we should finally burn this brat for good!"

Sukuna could say the same about them.

Those 'saints' who left you with infection-littered wounds.

Those 'saints' who chased after you for simple fruit.

A little girl, with more bones than meat.

Was Sukuna really the disgrace of the world when this was the way other people thought of innocent life trying to survive?

Whatever. He didn't have the time to think about it.

Not when he'd hold you with his lower arms to stop your squirming.

He discovered reverse cursed technique at a very young age, which became good use. He'd heal you, acting as if he couldn't hear your sobs.

Sukuna's touch wasn't gentle, nor was it kind, but it was efficient. His hands, rough and calloused despite his young age, pressed against your frail frame, glowing faintly with cursed energy as it stitched together your wounds. He worked silently, his expression unreadable, but his lower eyes betrayed the tiniest flicker of something foreign. Something he wouldn't dare acknowledge.

"You cry too much," he muttered, his voice gruff as if to mask the faint twinge of unease your sobs caused him.

—that, unfortunately wasn't a lie. You'd cry a lot. So much, the beast wondered when you'd ever run out of tears.

But in no sense were you a dramatic little crybaby. You'd cry a lot, but not often. When you did, you usually couldn't stop it anymore, and it would go on for hours— the monster had no idea what to do in that case. He figured he wouldn't kill you for the simple act, since you were so useful.

But that weeping would go on his nerves. It replaced the warm feeling in his organs— the one sitting slightly beneath the sternum— with a cold one. It'd feel like it was clutching, singing a melody of helplessness.

That must've been his nerves, he figured.

You were annoying him, he figured.

You sniffled, your thin fingers clutching at his wrist. "hurts," you whimpered, your face streaked with dirt and tears.

And there it was again— that feeling. Something in his chest was crinkling together.

"Then stop getting caught, idiot," he replied, his tone harsher than he intended. He focused on his work, forcing himself to ignore the wetness in your eyes. "Be faster. Smarter."

"I am fast," you argued weakly, your lips trembling, "they're just... mean."

The feeling in his chest was getting worse. Sukuna frowned, it almost resembled to actual pain.

A rare snort escaped him, bitter and sharp. "The world's mean. Get used to it."

You didn't respond right away, your small body trembling under his hands as he finished patching you up. Finally, you spoke, your voice quiet, almost inaudible. "Why do you help me then? If the world's so mean?"

Sukuna froze for a moment, his hands hovering just above your skin. His crimson eyes narrowed as he stared at you, his jaw tightening.

"Because I don't like broken things," he said simply, his tone cold and dismissive. "they're useless."

You blinked up at him, your expression unreadable. "Then why not let me die?"

He didn't answer, couldn't answer. His lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled his hands back, the glow of cursed energy fading.

"You didn't let me die either. Now shut up and eat," he snapped, shoving a stolen piece of bread into your hands.

You obeyed, gnawing at the stale crust despite how it scratched at your throat. You were used to it by now.

Sukuna leaned back against his usual tree— the one he almost died on— his multiple arms folding across his chest. He stared at you as you ate, his gaze deciphering, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn't even want to admit existed.

"You're too small," he muttered after a while, breaking the silence.

You looked up, crumbs clinging to your lips. "Huh?"

"You're weak," he clarified, his tone blunt, "pathetic, even."

"Gee, thanks," you muttered, rolling your eyes.

"But," he continued, ignoring your sarcasm, "you're still alive. That means you're stubborn. Maybe too stubborn for your own good."

You tilted your head, watching him curiously. "And what about you? You're alive too."

He smirked faintly, a sharp, cruel thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's because I'm stronger than them. Stronger than everyone. I just haven't gotten the chance to prove it yet."

"Then why didn't you leave?" you asked, your voice soft, "If you're so strong, why didn't you leave this place? Why are you still here? Feeding off fruit instead of hunting the animals to the north."

His smirk faltered, his expression hardening. "Because I have something to prove," he grunted, "to them. To the people who left me here to rot. To everyone who thinks they can decide what I am."

He was going to prove that the place they abandoned him to was the reason he was going to turn into a real monster. His career shall start from the place his realization begun. He would tear them apart, and only after this, shall he enjoy his own brought food; his victims.

You didn't respond right away, your gaze dropping to the bread in your hands. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "I think you're just lonely."

His head snapped toward you, his red eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?"

You met his glare head-on, your expression tired, and yet still stubborn, "I said you're lonely. That's why you don't want me to die. You don't want to be alone again."

For a moment, the air between you grew tense. Sukuna's hands twitched, his fingers curling into fists as if he were contemplating smashing your fragile frame into the dirt.

But he didn't.

Instead, he leaned back, closing his eyes with a huff. "You talk too much," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.

You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite the exhaustion etched into your face. "And you don't talk enough."

Another silence fell between you, this one less heavy, less suffocating. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken children in a world that had already decided you didn't belong.

But for now, you weren't alone.

Then days started to turn into weeks, and the weeks blurred into months.

Sukuna grew stronger, his body filling out with lean, wiry muscle as his cursed energy became sharper, more controlled. You were still frail, still weak, but you had learned to move like a shadow, to steal like a raven amongst the humans.

Sukuna didn't understand it. Didn't care to, at first. You were wasting your energy on a lost cause. You should've run far away from him, left him to rot like everyone else had.

But you hadn't. Didn't.

And that caused him to grow over the years.

He grew rapidly, mainly because of his genes— but his muscles weren't something he simply got. He earned them by training.

What to understand under training? Well— he used you as weight, most of the time. You sat on his back when he did pushups or his arm when he trained his biceps. You were useful to Sukuna; that's why he kept you around.

Definitely for no other reason, though.

Nope.

Not because your voice relaxed him, lulled him to sleep.

Not because you smiled at him the day both of you were supposed to be left as nothing more than rotten bodies in this cruel world.

Not because you were so fearless of his anatomy— of him.

Not because you cared for him, so unnaturally much.

Not because you were a complete idiot for doing so.

And to keep things around meant taking care of them, unfortunately. He couldn't risk you dying on him. Not that he'd feel guilty.. sad or anything, but you were useful, could steal. And besides, he had spend a lot of years together with you. You'd grown into young adults together. He got used to your company.

So he never wasted any time when he healed your wounds. You usually had a lot of them, considering villages were basically hunting for you by now.

You even found a little shelter, good enough to hold the two of you. It was an abandoned temple, plants overgrowing the place— but it was enough.

The villagers were growing restless, their whispers turning to shouts, their torches raised.

"The girl's still out there!"

"She steals more than she can eat— she's bringing offerings to the devil himself!"

"We have to end this before they destroy us all!"

Sukuna listened to their cries from the shadows.

"Let them come," he muttered, his voice a low growl.

You glanced at him, worried, "Sukuna…"

He turned to you, his smirk sharp and merciless. "They wanted a monster," he grinned, "I'll show them one."

And for the first time, you weren't sure if you could stop him.

From the day Sukuna decided to show himself to the villages, things changed.

You didn't know what he was doing there. He wouldn't tell you, and you didn't ask. But every evening, without fail, he'd return to the little temple the two of you had claimed. Bloodied.

Always bloodied.

It was never his blood.

His steps would echo against the cracked stones, his frame filling the entrance. He wouldn't say a word, just slump down into his usual spot, waiting for you to do what you always did.

You'd kneel beside him, a bucket of water already at the ready, and begin cleaning him. Your hands worked methodically, scrubbing away the blood that painted his arms, his chest, his face. It didn't matter how much there was or how long it took— you cleaned it all, sitting in silence as the water turned red.

He never flinched. Never winced.

You didn't ask what had happened, and he didn't offer an explanation.

This was your routine now.

You decided you didn't like it.

You were getting left out. He was going cold— you couldn't care less if it were towards the village and the world only— but what about you? You wanted to hear his voice, to talk to him, to be with him.

It was only weeks later that you began to notice them. The marks.

The first time you saw one, it was faint, almost invisible against his skin. A single black line curling along the biceps that met the shoulder. You didn't say anything, even as more began to appear, making their way up his limbs, across his chest, spreading like a dark disease.

You knew what they were.

You didn't need to ask.

Each mark was a crime— a sin carved into his flesh, branding him for the world to see. Murder. Destruction. Chaos.

You knew that.

He knew you knew.

At first, he acted like it didn't matter. Sukuna was stubborn like that, always pretending nothing could touch him. But you saw it, the way his gaze would flicker to you when he thought you weren't looking. The way his hands sometimes twitched when you got too close, as if he expected you to pull away.

He was scared.

Scared that you, out of all people, would abandon him.

But you didn't.

You didn't say a word when the marks began to spread across his shoulders, his back, his neck. You didn't flinch when the blood he came back with multiplied. You didn't recoil when his smile started to look more like a snarl, his eyes gleaming with something you didn't want to name.

You didn't support what he was doing.

But you would never stop him.

For the world had done the same to him.

Because no one stopped when they left him to rot, when they whispered behind their hands and turned their backs and called him a monster before he even had a chance to be anything else.

Because even though you didn't agree with him, even though you hated the blood and the way he was slipping further and further away from whatever humanity he had left…

You would never abandon him.

So you stayed.

Even as the marks spread like a curse, even as the villagers' cries grew louder, even as Sukuna's laughter began to echo like something bad had won against the world, you stayed.

Because that's what you'd always done.

And maybe that's why, when the marks started creeping toward his face, curling along his jaw and across his lower eyes, Sukuna never stopped coming back.

No matter how bloody he was.

No matter how much darker he seemed.

He always came back.

To you.

After Sukuna had received all possible markings on his body, you found yourselves wandering off the place it all started with.

He'd proven himself.

It was time to take over his own estate now. He shall be the god amongst the mere humans whom despised him, with you by his side.

Sukuna found an estate on a whim.

It was a massive structure, sprawling across the countryside like a symbol of decadence. It belonged to a king, or at least someone who thought themselves important. Sukuna didn't care who— it didn't matter. All he saw was an opportunity.

He stalked through the gates, dragging you behind him by the hand like a silent shadow. You didn't ask questions, didn't protest. You trusted him. Perhaps a bit too much.

He wasn't sure what pissed him off more; the way you clung to his side so willingly or the fact that you made him hesitate.

Sukuna had stormed into that estate ready to kill— prepared to cut through guards, nobles, anyone who dared stand in his way. But the moment he stepped inside, the warmth of your hand in his made him pause. Just for a second.

He grumbled, the sound low and guttural in his throat.

"Brat," he muttered under his breath.

You blinked up at him, confused, but before you could ask, three of his arms moved. Two hands covered your ears, and the third wrapped protectively around your head, shielding and blinding you from what he was about to do.

The remaining arm was the one he used to guide his slashes, cutting through flesh and bone as if it were paper.

Guards rushed at him, swords raised, and fell just as quickly. Blood splattered the polished floors, the walls, the pristine decor meant to show off the king's wealth. Sukuna moved like a storm, calculated and ruthless, cutting down anyone who dared oppose him.

But there were some who didn't fight.

Some dropped to their knees without question, trembling as they bowed their heads.

Sukuna's grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

"Swear your lives to me," he commanded, his voice a deep, menacing growl that echoed through the halls, "pledge your loyalty, or join the rest of them."

And they did.

One after another, they vowed their lives to him, fear etched into every syllable. Those were the ones he let live.

By the time he finished, the estate was his.

Blood soaked the floors, the stench of death heavy in the air, but it was done. Sukuna had claimed his place.

Servants began arriving the next day, desperate for shelter. They came from villages he'd decimated, from towns that whispered his name with equal parts fear and reverence. They gave their lives to him willingly, swearing fealty in exchange for protection.

Because that's what you had always done.

There was one habit Sukuna had carried with him since childhood— a strange, unspoken thing neither of you dared to label or even fully acknowledge. Whatever it was between you two, it wasn't something the world could define.

Certainly not a couple. That wasn't the right word. No.

But also… not not that.

It didn't matter. No one dared lay a thought on it.

The habit in question? Sukuna couldn't sleep unless you were right there. Not just near him, but with him. On him, preferably.

From the time you were small, he'd insist you lay against his chest, your frail frame curled up against him like you were the only shield he needed. As you grew, it became more than that— skin to skin contact. He craved it, though he'd rather rot in hell than admit it.

When you'd press your cheek against him, limbs tangled together as if the world wasn't constantly trying to tear you apart, Sukuna could actually relax. When your warmth pressed into his, he could let his many eyes close, feel his breathing even out. He swore he didn't care about the way your fingers would clutch at him in your sleep, or how you'd bury your face in the crook of his neck.

Didn't care that you drooled on him, for God's sake.

He definitely didn't admire that.

But there were nights when you'd wake up to find him staring at you, his eyes soft in a way you rarely saw. And he'd smirk, teasingly so, just enough to throw you off.

"You drooled all over me again," he'd mutter, pretending to be annoyed as he wiped at his skin, though the smug tilt of his mouth betrayed him.

You'd groan, shoving at his chest, "Then stop using me as a pillow."

"Who's using who?" he'd reply, wrapping his arms tighter around you so you couldn't escape.

It was stupid. Pointless. But also… it wasn't.

Because in those moments, when it was just the two of you and the rest of the world could burn for all you cared, Sukuna wasn't the bloodied monster that came home to you. And you weren't the ghost of a child stealing scraps to survive. (Which, frankly, you didn't need to anymore, since Sukuna took charge of that. However, the villages contained a.. feeling.. you liked to experience. The bits of humanity. Sukuna didn't stop you, for he didn't understand, but he trusted you.)

There was once, when Sukuna had never experienced you like this. Not once in all the years he'd known you.

You came back from the village as usual, empty-handed this time, but without so much as a scratch on you. At first, he thought nothing of it— maybe you'd been lucky, maybe the villagers were slacking, maybe...

But then, you didn't say a word. Not one.

You were always the one to start conversations. Always the one filling the empty silence between the two of you with your endless chatter, your stubborn questions, your little quips that only made him smirk. So why the hell were you quiet now?

It irritated him.

"Oi," Sukuna barked, his sharp tone bouncing off the temple walls, "say something."

You didn't respond.

He narrowed his eyes, his arms crossing over his broad chest. This was weird. Really weird. Then he got a good look at your face, and something about it made his stomach twist, and the feeling in his chest cold.

You looked sad.

Why did you look sad? You weren't supposed to look like that. That wasn't you.

"Stop making that face," he snapped, scowling to cover the strange unease rising in his chest.

You still didn't respond, huffing and walking away to another room— that definitely was not the one you'd share with Sukuna. For mere sleeping habits, obviously.

Then he noticed you weren't eating either. That was the final straw. Sukuna was no saint— far from it— but when he was half-dead, starving, and barely able to move, you'd shoved food down his throat whether he wanted it or not. You fed him, cared for him, even when he didn't deserve it.

So maybe, he thought, he should do the same for you.

Yes. Yes, that was the answer.

Of course, Sukuna had never been great with the whole 'gentle' thing. Or 'patient.' Or 'subtle.'

So when you didn't eat the dried meat he shoved into your hands, he huffed and decided to take matters into his own hands.

Literally.

"Open your damn mouth," he growled, his lower arms grabbing your face with surprising force. Servants around the room stilled, their eyes widening. They knew you as the King's treasure— they never expected him to care, whatsoever.

You blinked up at him, startled, but still didn't say a word.

"Don't just stare at me— eat!" he barked, attempting to shove the food toward your mouth. When your lips remained stubbornly closed, his frustration boiled over, "Fine, you wanna be a brat? Then I shall make you—"

Without thinking, Sukuna grabbed your jaw, prying your mouth open with way too much force. His grip was rough, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he tried to shove the food in.

"Stop being so damn stupid—!"

Before any of the shocked servants could even dare to say anything, your muffled protest and wide eyes finally registered in his brain. He froze mid-action, realizing he was practically choking you.

"..Oh."

He pulled his hands back abruptly, the dried meat dropping to the ground between you. You coughed a little, your eyes watering, and for a brief moment, Sukuna actually felt awkward.

Which pissed him off even more.

"Whatever," he grumbled, crossing his arms again and glaring at the wall, "you're lucky I even bothered, fool."

You finally spoke then, your voice soft and hoarse from disuse. "…Sukuna?"

"What?"

Your lips trembled, and you looked up at him with that same sad expression that made his chest ache. "Thank you."

He scoffed, turning his head away so you couldn't see the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck. "Don't thank me. Just eat next time."

But you didn't.

And Sukuna, for all his glory, didn't know how to fix you.

And that terrified him.

He didn't know what was wrong, didn't know how to make you better, and the longer you stayed like this— silent, withdrawn, not you— the more it ate away at him. He wasn't used to fear, not like this, and it pissed him off.

So the next time you went into the village, he came with you.

It was a rational decision, he told himself. If he could just see what was going on, maybe he could figure out how to fix it. Plus, he'd make sure nothing happened to you while you were out.

The villagers, of course, noticed immediately. Sukuna wasn't exactly subtle. A hulking figure with four arms and marks that practically screamed danger didn't exactly blend into the background.

This was no longer just you, the lone thief darting through shadows.

No.

This was you and Sukuna, the two of you together.

A pair.

You were the reason Sukuna had survived this long. He knew that. Knew that now the villagers would too. They'd hunt you harder, piece together the truth of how you'd kept him alive, how you'd made him the monster they feared.

He didn't care.

He wasn't going to leave your side anyway.

You were safest with him. No one would dare lay a finger on you while he was there. That was the message he sent, loud and clear, as he walked beside you through the village, your hand clasped firmly in his.

But then he saw it.

The way your expression shifted.

You stopped, your gaze snagged on a group of children sitting in the dirt, their little hands busy smearing bright colors inside simple lines drawn on scraps of parchment. They were laughing, giggling, so blissfully unaware of the two of you.

Your frown deepened.

And that's when Sukuna realized.

This— this— was the reason for your depressive episode.

He froze, staring at you for a moment before he let out a loud, echoing cackle. He laughed so hard his sides ached, his upper hands clutching his stomach while his lower ones rested on his hips.

"That's what's got you sulking?" he sneered, "This? A bunch of brats smearing colors like idiots?"

You turned to him, cheeks hot with embarrassment, lips tugged into a pout. "Shut up."

He barked out a low, mocking laugh, leaning closer as his sharp teeth glinted. "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous of that? You wanna crawl around in the dirt and finger-paint too? What's next, you gonna cry about it? Pathetic."

You huffed, crossing your arms with a glare. "Hey! I haven't cried about such things since.. forever now— you can't bring that up!"

But you weren't mad.

Just pouty.

And he found that absolutely hilarious.

Back at the estate, though, Sukuna couldn't shake the image of your face in the village. That look of quiet longing, of sadness. It stuck with him, crawling under his skin until he couldn't ignore it anymore.

So, begrudgingly, he thought about it. Really thought about it.

And then, with a dramatic sigh, he sat down beside you, crossing his lower arms over his lap while the upper ones gestured at his body.

"Here," he said gruffly, as if this were a full sentence made to understand immediately.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"My marks," he muttered, already annoyed at how awkward he felt, "use them. Color inside the lines or whatever. Just— stop looking like that. It's annoying."

Your mouth fell open in surprise, and he immediately regretted it. "Don't make a big deal out of it," he snapped, scowling, "if it'll stop you from sulking, then fine. Go ahead. You can even add new ones if you want."

Your face lit up, a spark of your usual self finally flickering back to life. "Really?"

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?" Sukuna grumbled, pretending to be annoyed even as relief washed over him, "Just don't mess it up."

You grabbed a piece of charcoal from your stash with a grin, leaning closer to him. "Don't worry, S'kuna. I'll make you beautiful."

He rolled his eyes.

"To think of it, you're already really beautiful.."

He scoffed, his lips curling up, "I am no such thing."

"To me, you are."

"..."

Your relationship was fine. There wasn't much else you could say about it. You weren't ready to ruin anything, and being in his arms made you content enough.

But there was this constant urge to have more.

You didn't understand these feelings fully, but you did know there were times when you wanted to please him desperately.

That's why you started training. A lot.

Obviously, you'd never live up to the King himself, but there was no denying the fact that you did… bloom. You didn't run anymore— not when you were able to take out people on your own.

And while you did all of this with the intention of keeping yourself safe, you somehow got another reward out of it.

His praise.

Your guilty pleasure.

You tried not to let it show, but you were desperate for it. Almost like a dog wagging its tail, ready for a reward after performing a trick.

And while Sukuna hadn't noticed that you specifically craved his praise, he had noticed that you'd grown a lot more obedient. You'd follow his orders without snarky remarks, without hesitation.

Take eating, for example.

Back then, Sukuna would've been fuming because, despite your circumstances and how you grew up, you were a picky eater. And Sukuna had actually been trying his best to break that habit.

Now? Now you ate without another word. No sarcastic quips. No fights. No using the King of Curses as your personal climbing material to escape his four arms.

Nope.

Just you, grimacing after each bite of whatever questionable food you'd been handed.

Sukuna was confused.

Hence why you didn't get the praise you'd been so desperately hoping for.

Well, fuck you, you cunt. What did I eat this fucking piece of shit for?

As you sat picking at a particularly unappealing piece of food, Sukuna finally snapped.

"Alright," he growled, crossing his arms over his chest, all four of them. "What's your deal?"

You blinked up at him, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me." His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the dim light. "You've been acting weird. Eating whatever garbage you're given, training like a lunatic, not mouthing off— what's going on with you?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on your food. "I'm just… trying to pull my weight, that's all."

"Bullshit," he said flatly.

You flinched, your grip tightening on your fork.

Sukuna leaned forward, "Out with it," he demanded. "what are you trying to prove?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are."

You hesitated, biting your lip, and Sukuna's frustration grew. He hated when you shut him out.

"I just…" You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to make you proud, is all."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable.

And then, to your utter shock, he let out a low, rumbling laugh.

"That's it?" he said, his tone mocking but not mean, "You want to make me proud? You're such an idiot."

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna cut you off.

"Listen," he begun, "You don't need to break yourself to impress me. You're already here, are you not? That's enough."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up at him, your eyes wide.

"Now eat," he barked, his tone snapping back to its usual gruffness. "And stop making that stupid face. It's annoying."

A small grin tugged at your lips.

"Yes, your Highness," you said, mockingly formal as you took a big, dramatic bite of your food.

Sukuna rolled his eyes but didn't bother hiding the smirk that spread across his face.

When letters started to come in, no one really knew how to address you.

You weren't his queen. You weren't his wife. You weren't his servant, and you certainly weren't his concubine.

You were you.

A force unlike anything the world had ever seen. The only soul who dared to hold Sukuna's gaze without fear, who could make him snarl one moment and laugh the next.

If there was one thing everyone knew, it was this; Sukuna respected you. A respect so profound that it bordered on reverence— something not even gods themselves could hope to achieve.

One day, another letter arrived.

It was addressed to you, though the sender didn't dare write your name. Instead, it bore a simple title,

The Crow.

The name wasn't unfamiliar. After all, it wasn't far from the truth. You had once been the solitary figure scavenging food for Sukuna, feeding him when the world left him to rot. Always flitting in and out of danger, quick and clever, much like the bird they now associated you with.

Sukuna scoffed at the name when he looked over your shoulder, your legs dangling off of his lap, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips. "The Crow, hm? How poetic."

You rolled your eyes. "What else would they call me? It's better than 'Bearer of Death' or 'The Pest', no?"

He barked out a laugh, leaning back on his throne, "I'd kill them myself if they dared to write something that pathetic."

The letter was an invitation from a village requesting your presence. It was worded carefully, dripping with false flattery and desperate pleas.

"They need you," Sukuna read aloud mockingly. "Right. As if this isn't a trap."

You knew it, and so did he.

But still, you folded the letter neatly and tucked it away.

"I'm going."

Sukuna's expression darkened instantly. His gaze bore into you, sharp and unrelenting. "No, you're not."

You raised a brow, "You're not my keeper."

"Correct. I'm your king," he snapped, hands finding their way to your waist, almost as if silently stopping you from an escape, "and I forbid it."

"Then come with me,"

He stilled, his gaze narrowing as he weighed your words.

"if it's a trap," you continued, "they won't expect you. In that case, we— you don't have to worry about dinner tonight."

Sukuna grunted, a smirk blooming on his face, "You're insufferable."

"So I've heard."

The two of you arrived at the village a few days later, Sukuna at your side.

The air was thick with unease as villagers scattered like mice at the sight of him. His reputation preceded him, the stories of his cruelty and power leaving no room for doubt.

What confused them most was him.

Why was he here? Only you were invited.

The village leader greeted you hesitantly, his voice trembling as he spoke.

"We… we didn't expect both of you to come."

"Clearly," Sukuna drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. His lower arms crossed over his chest while the upper ones rested at his sides, ready to strike if needed. "You thought you'd lure her here and what? Take her from me? Did you think you could threaten me in this way?"

The leader paled, stumbling over his words. "N-no, my Lord, we—"

"Enough." Sukuna's voice silenced the man immediately, "Speak. Why did you call her here?"

The village leader fumbled, his gaze flickering nervously between you and Sukuna. "W-We need her help," he stammered, voice quivering as he addressed the King. "A newborn… was recently b-born here." His words faltered, his fear evident as he glanced up at the King, "He's… different. B-Born with two faces."

The man swallowed hard, his trembling hands clasped together in desperation. "He's sick. None of the doctors outside the village will touch him," he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his plea. Then, his eyes turned to you, filled with a desperate kind of hope, "We heard the stories— how she saved you— and we thought…"

"You thought wrong," Sukuna growled.

But before he could end the man's life with a single swipe, you stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm.

"Let me handle this," you said softly.

His gaze flickered to you, his jaw tightening. After a long moment, he relented, stepping back with a low grunt.

You let the villager take you to the hut where the newborn was.

You knelt before the makeshift crib, your hands trembling slightly as you reached out to the newborn. He was tiny, frail— two faced.

One face contained of nothing more than fear, whilst the other cried out in pain. Yet, when your arms wrapped around his fragile body, he quieted, though soft whimpers still escaped his lips.

"Shh, little one," you murmured, your voice as gentle as a breeze. Sukuna watched silently from the corner, his arms crossed.

Carefully, you checked the baby's temperature, your fingers brushing over his small, fevered forehead. You examined his tiny body for signs of illness, taking note of the unnatural features that made the villagers so fearful. His two faces twisted slightly as he squirmed in your arms, but he didn't cry out again.

Turning to the trembling leader and a few others standing nearby, you, usually being considered nice, spoke firmly, "He needs specific care. His fever has to be brought down immediately. You'll need fruits rich in vitamins— papayas, bananas, oranges. Vegetables too. Carrots, spinach. And a steady supply of milk." Your gaze hardened, daring them to question you. "If you fail to provide him with these, he won't survive the month."

The leader nodded rapidly, almost stumbling over his own feet as he rushed to fulfill your demands.

Meanwhile, the baby's tiny hand gripped weakly at the fabric of your sleeve, his innocent gaze drifting up to meet yours. His other face, half-formed but expressive, mirrored the longing in his eyes. He clung to you like you were the only safe haven in his fragile world.

But then his gaze shifted, catching sight of Sukuna looming nearby. The King's lower set of eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his lips twitching into something between a pout and a scowl. The baby's hand hesitated, releasing its hold as if sensing Sukuna's displeasure.

You glanced at Sukuna, raising an eyebrow at his ridiculous expression. What was he? Jealous? Of a baby?

Biting back a laugh, you turned your attention back to the infant, cradling him closer and pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead. "Don't mind him," you whispered, though loud enough for Sukuna to hear, "he's just grumpy because he's not the center of attention for once."

Sukuna scoffed, his arms tightening across his chest. "Tch. Keep your bratty comments to yourself."

You grinned at him, unbothered by his tone. "Aw, is the mighty King pouting? You're really going to compete with a newborn now?"

"I do not pout."

"Oh, you absolutely do," you teased, hugging the baby close for emphasis. The infant snuggled into you, his soft breaths warm against your skin. He reminded you so much of Sukuna, except Sukuna's beginnings had been so much harsher, so much crueler.

Your smile softened as you glanced over at the man, "You were like this once, you know," you said quietly, "but worse off. No one held you like this, did they?"

"That's irrelevant," he muttered.

You turned back to the baby, rocking him gently. "Not to me,"

Sukuna didn't respond, but he didn't look away, either. Even in his silence, you knew he was watching, remembering.

He hated this.

Hated the way they looked at you, as if you were their savior. As if they had any right to ask for your help after the world had abandoned you. For no reason, might he add. You were not the devil's incarnation, you hadn't been a bad child, hell, for all he knew, you could be considered an angel. And yet, you were in the same state as he was the very day you two met. The world treated you so harshly for your mere existence. And Sukuna hadn't forgotten.

He stayed silent, letting you work.

When the day ended, you returned to his side, hands stained with herbs. He said nothing.

And yet, the villagers had the audacity to offer you flowers— an attempt at gratitude.

They were beautiful.

They promised you they smelled even better.

Who were you to decline?

But beauty has a cost.

The flowers— so innocent-looking, so sweet-smelling— were anything but.

The trouble began not long after.

At first, Sukuna noticed how clingy you became, latching onto him even more than usual. You'd run your hands through his hair (despite his scowls and harsh hushes), trace the tattoos along his arms, or rest your head on his chest longer than necessary. He didn't mind— not that he'd admit it— but it was odd. It was unlike you to be so needy.

Then, just as suddenly, you pulled away.

Your skin flushed, your breathing uneven. You seemed distant, yet restless, quirking around like a lost little thing.

And in the blink of an eye, you stormed off to the room you shared with him. No explanations. Just silence. The servants barely had time to question your behavior. You disappeared before they could even open their mouths.

Sukuna pretended not to care. You were probably sulking, he told himself. Maybe something the villagers said had gotten under your skin. But the longer you stayed locked in that room, the more agitated he became.

He wasn't going to check on you— not immediately, anyway. That would mean admitting he cared, and he wasn't about to give anyone that satisfaction.

Instead, he sent servants.

The first returned looking pale, as if they'd just seen a ghost.

"What's wrong with her?" Sukuna growled, standing at an intimidating height.

The servant stammered, failing to form a coherent response.

Useless.

A single strike ended their misery, and Sukuna turned to the next.

One by one, the servants were sent to your room, and one by one, they returned looking worse for wear— shaken, nervous, almost beaten down mentally. None of them gave him a straight answer. And that annoyed him beyond hell and earth.

By the third corpse, he was growing impatient.

Finally, one brave— or perhaps foolish— servant stepped forward, bowing low to avoid her wrath. "My Lord… it's not our place to say. You… you should see for yourself. But she… she needs time. Give her a moment, then go to her."

The King's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a snarl. Time? You needed time? For what?

Still, the servant's trembling voice and the hint of genuine concern in their words stopped him from storming in immediately.

"Fine," he grunted, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand, "half an hour. If she's not better by then, I’ll deal with it myself."

The servant bowed deeply, sharing a concerned look before retreating as quickly as they could.

And so, Sukuna waited.

What was wrong with you? And why the hell hadn't you told him?

Inside the room, you were fighting for your life. You were left dizzy and overwhelmed. You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The sensation was maddening, your body betraying you in ways you couldn't explain.

Your abdomen burned. It felt too hot for your body, and you were desperate. Desperate to get rid of it, to loosen it, to feel pleasure.

You cursed under your breath, glaring at the damned flowers on the bedside table. They were the culprits. Had to be. Their sweet, heady scent lingered in the air, mocking you.

And then it dawned on you.

They were aphrodisiacs.

You yelped, mewling in, what you could consider, pain. Pain of the lack of touch.

One thought after another paced into your mind, but the one that stung the most must've been the simple question; why?

Why did the villagers do this? Hadn't you helped them well enough? Weren't you good?

Were they still, after having received your help, desperate to damage the King's property? In order to weaken him?

You scoffed at the thought. Yeah, as if.

The more disgusting thought probably had to be that they weren't in disgust of you, no, they wanted you to reproduce. They wanted more of Sukuna's kind, for the man also had worshippers, not only enemies. And this village had been such as those, you hadn't missed their eyes lingering on the King's large form.

What had you done to deserve this?

You'd have to tell Sukuna eventually.

And that would mean the death of the villagers.

You didn't want that, either.

But it was only a matter of time until said King would find out about your condition.

You thought, maybe he'd find out by the use of his enhanced senses. He'd smell the aphrodisiacs, and know what had happend to you. Or maybe he already knew these type of flowers, and he'd be able to tell by the mere look of them.

What you hadn't expected was for him to find you hopelessly humping a pillow.

The one placed in the bed you shared with him.

You had thought he went hunting— and no other servants dared to enter his room without knocking and getting an approval.

And for his sake, you would've been embarassed to see him standing there, his upper arms crossed, his expression fading from surprised to.. amused? Whatever. The King could never be surprised, could he?

You would've been embarassed, if it hadn't been for the high effects these flowers had casted upon you.

You felt like you were in heat.

You couldn't stop. A mess of whimpers, mewls and moans was what you were.

"..m-m ngh- haa- 'm s-so.. s.. sorry— 'kuna—!"

To Sukuna, you were a sight worth millions.

What could he say? Your tits, once hidden behind your kimono, were out, bouncing along to your hopeless humping. Your hair was messy, your eyes droopy, but open enough for him to catch your blown out pupils— not to mention the fact that you looked up at him as if he were your savior. Your breaths came out shallow, and your moans.. your moans were what he could consider a masterpiece. It only added to his own arousal when you moaned his name. Well, petname now, apparently.

He wanted to touch you.

To demolish you himself.

"They've drugged you. I see. Their village shall burn to the grounds—"

"N-no! -kuna p-please don't leave meee!—" you panted, desperately rubbing your clit now.

He wasn't planning to leave, however hearing you beg for it was a little cherry on top. He smirked, nearing you as he yanked your hand off of your poor bud.

And shit, the way you looked up at him— your eyes glossy, partly embarassed and partly so deep in the haze of your own arousal.

His other hand tangled into your hair, snapping your head up to look up at him.

He spoke lowly, his voice a mere rasp,

"Tell me what you desire, my dove."

"You."

No hesitation.

Well fuck, if that didn't make Sukuna rock hard, then he'd be doomed.

"Hm. Stop your humping on that thing. Come here."

His hold on your hair guided you up. You whimpered, the loss of friction and close release could've been enough of a reason for you to have started sobbing.

"Your body is truly pathetic. You can't even withstand a mere aphrodisiac. How are you to survive in this world without me by your side?"

He yanked you up, holding you with his lower arms by your thighs as he pressed you to the nearest wall. You whined, the little clothing you still owned slipping down your form, leaving you fully naked. He was already shirtless, never fond of any tops.

"Hm. A day ago you would've cried from embarrassment. How amusing."

That's when you felt it.

Your cunt was directly pressed to his stomach.

Exactly where his maw was located at.

He wasted no time, slithering the thick muscle from your thighs to your chasm, and into your folds. The dip was delicious, spreading your arousal all around as it began slipping inside of you.

Sukuna's actual mouth acted with thoughts, for he was the one controlling its actions.

His maw, however, acted on pure instinct. That's why on the day you fed him, it wasn't his actual mouth accepting your offer, but his maw, which knew what he had needed.

And it knew what you needed, now, because it was pumping inside of you like a real dick, stretching you out in ways that should hurt if it werent for the mixture of his spit and your liquid.

You moaned loudly, holding into the man as you squirmed. The canines of his maw brushed over your plush thighs, trying to savour your taste.

It was eating you.

Literally.

You gasped when you felt Sukuna's free hands groping your breasts harshly, running his thumbs over your hardened buds.

He pinched them.

And you cried out. Loudly, at that. It hurt, the overstimulation just adding to it as your breasts swelled.

And then he spat on them, meeting your druggen, almost passed out gaze with his grin.

His tongue, still pushing inside of you as if it were to devour you at any moment, was originally going to make you cum.. but..

"S-stop- 'kuna please! E- haah- enough!"

Said man stopped immediately, his tongue stilling inside of you, your walls pulsating around him.

"What is it, brat? You haven't even had your release yet. Don't tell me it's already too much."

You shook your head, blushing as your hands went around his head. He shot you a confused look before you leaned in to press your lips on his.

He was taken aback. A grunt left his lips as he accepted his fate, though he seemed to still, as if not knowing what to do.

But you giggled, actually giggled at him.

"Want you 'kuna. W-want you to feel good too,"

"Don't be silly. You will wither trying to take me."

"'n y-you'll just heal me then, no?"

"..."

He grunted, removing his tongue from you before placing you on the bed.

You looked so beautiful, spread out like a flower blooming. Your cunt was glistening, spread and messy from his tongue.

And yet, you had the audacity to feel shy at the moment.

Using your hands to cover what's his.

"Remove your hands at once, or I will not take any mercy on you, brat." He snarled, slowly pushing his pants down.

You obeyed.

And there he was.

There they were.

Standing at proud, over-human-sized inches, both of his cocks, glistening with leaking pre-cum.

He was right. You would wither trying to take him.

"Excited already?"

Oh, yeah.

How did you not notice the way you basically went on all fours within seconds, looking at his cocks as if they were treasures.

"S..so big—" your hands wrapped around his lower cock, experimentally giving a few pumps. The King, to all his glory, grunted, his eyebrows furrowed.

"So desperate, my dove. Tch."

Your mouth fell open as you went to take his upper dick, kitty licking over his tip, tasting his cum.

Fuck.

It didn't take long for you to wrap your mouth around his tip, pumping his other rock-hard, desperate cock.

And maybe, he was just as desperate— his hand wrapped around your neck, slowly inching his dick deeper into you.

You could cum on spot for what he said next;

"Good girl. F-fuck."

Not only did the big, bad King just do what you yearned for the whole time (praise you), but he also had stuttered (whimpered, really. But you'll take what you get).

You moaned around his large shaft, bobbing your head when you noticed you wouldn't be able to go any deeper. Tears were running down your cheeks, sobs escaping your full throat.

Your fingers engulfed him, your thumb rubbing his leaking tip while the other hand stroked his base, feeling the vein running underneath.

He was so perfect.

During your moment of bliss, you barely noticed his cussing, let alone his demands.

"G-get off— woman."

But you didn't.

You couldn't.

And he couldn't stop you, for the pleasure was way too great.

With that, he shot, not one, but two big loads onto you, one running inside of your throat and the other outside your throat, soaking your skin with white, sticky cum.

You were eager to swallow, and even more eager to continue, though your mouth was starting to get sore and tired.

"E-enough- for fuck's sake- off!" He groaned as he pulled you off forcefully, your mouth still connected to his dick by the mixture of cum and saliva.

Well fuck, if that wasn't a sight..

His dick remained hard, and you wondered how many releases he needed in order to soften.

"Real fuckin' minx. You think you can take both?"

You shook your head harshly, sobbing at the mere thought.

"Backing out? Already? How pathetic. I haven't even got the real chance to please you."

Without another word, he threw you on your back, gripping your legs and pressing them against your chest— literally folding you.

"'Kuna- Kuna haa!—" you cried out as you felt his tongue dive into your cunt again, his tip prodding the place right under your hole.

"Ca- can't take bo- ahh- both! Please!—"

He hummed, his tongue retreating.

"I suppose you can't, no."

"Huh?— Ah—!"

He entered you without another warning, without any time to adjust.

He was big.

He hurt.

But you did give him your promise that it'd be okay. And he said he'd heal you. So it should be okay if you could feel your walls clampering down on him, begging for a release and for him to stop his torture.

The pain easily mixed with the pleasure when he started thrusting into you, holding your legs with two of his arms, the other two keeping him steady above you. His other tip kept nudging your clit, making you cry out everytime your nerves got any kind of friction.

"Mhh. Such a glorious sight you are, my dove. So vulnerable.. can't even handle one cock, how are you ever supposed to take me?"

Ever?

You would've questioned it, if it weren't for the drool running down your lips, and the tears straining your cheeks. He chuckled, leaning down to you to lick away your tears and saliva.

His chest steadied your legs in position, and he used this as an advantage to run his hands all over your body.

You cried out when you felt multiple sharp teeth nibbling at your skin, some drawing blood, some sucking your skin.

He'd summoned mouths over his hands.

Moaning, you squirmed beneath him, his thrusts brutal enough to send you flying if it weren't for his grip.

"Ngh- ha- c-can't.. g'na cum-"

"Go on, little one. C-cum- fuck-" his breaths where heavy, and you could tell by his twitching cock inside of you that he was close aswell.

"Gonna f-fill you up, gonna fill you up so good— fuck- stop squeezing me like that, wo-hah- woman-!"

You came with a loud scream of his name, him following curtly after.

Hot, sticky cum filled your walls as he pulled out, his upper cock having spurt cum aswell. It coated your abdomen, up to your swollen breasts.

Shit.

"Haa- n-no! Enough-!" You yelped as you felt his fingers back in your hole.

He scoffed, "You're wasting my cum. Keep. It. In."

"Y-yeah as if I could do thaaa- holy shit!-" he filled you to the brim, knuckles deep inside of you, shoving every bit of his sticky substance into you.

"'Kunaaaaaa-"

"Fuck. Fine. I'll let this slip this time."

His hands hovered over the open wounds he'd caused, though he really rather looked smug. He healed you, fixing all what had to be fixed while hoisting you up into his arms.

"..this time?.."

He tilted his head.

"You didn't think this was a one time thing, did you?"

Oh but you did.

Whoops.

Blushing, you looked away.

"I- I don't want to be a concubine."

"..You're a fool to believe I'd consider you as such."

Silence.

Oh. Wait. That meant?..

"You know I'll still end those who hurt you, right?"

"Yeah."

He hummed, "Very well, I'll be on my way tomorrow. If you wish to follow, you are free to do so."

Silence.

"Sukuna?"

"Brat."

"Just.. spare the children and their parents, will you? They just—" you stopped, sighing as you nuzzled further into him, "—they.. he reminded me of you. You were like him too, once. I-.. it surprised me, that they didn't abandon him. I'd like him to do what we couldn't."

And what would that be? You and Sukuna basically could do anything. Were you saying he might've been uncapable of something? He killed all his life, he survived, he lived. What couldn't he possibly do?

"You must be mistaken, little one. We've done everything. We're capable of everything."

To his surprise, your voice came out weak. Weak like he'd never heard before. Not even when the people started chasing you with torches and knives, and spat mean words at you for your mere existence.

"...I'd like him to grow up loved."

"..."

...but Sukuna had loved you, hadn't he?

masterlist

[rosymccheese]

Yandere Brahms with his female S/O finally moved away from him far away. He would find her no matter how far away like countries. He realized he loves her more than everyone he meets even more than Greta.

"Anywhere For You"

-

Brahms Heelshire x GN|Y/N

-

Warnings: Trauma, Angst, Yandere

-

Brahms paced back and forth his feet heavy against the creaky floor boards, replaying the situation from a few months ago over and over in his head.

You had escaped him... The person he felt the safest with had ran away. Someone he treasured more than even Greta.

You had filled the void in his heart in a way no one else did, the warmth within you coating him in such a sweet sensation, yet he had you caged like a desperate bird.

You had finally got the chance to take flight and you took it, leaving him behind with furniture turned and objects smashed. He threw one hell of a tantrum when he awoke to find you gone.

No. He wasn't going to let you go. Not like this.

He's never felt like this for anyone before, he was willing to chase you to the ends of the earth if he had to. Anywhere for you.

-

You were sitting on the bus with your ear buds in, quietly listening to some music when you caught a glimpse of a tall figure behind you. Naturally because of the trauma you faced, your first assumption was 'BRAHMS?!?'. However when you whipped your head around you spotted a normal man just relaxing into his seat... Of course.

You were so far away from Brahms Heelshire and that wretched manor now... But those memories haunted you, slinking their way into every crevice of your life.

If you heard a mysterious thud your whole body would tense and you'd grab the nearest weapon, only to find it was simply a box that toppled over because you left it setting on the very edge of the shelf.

Sometimes you'd awake in the middle of the night and were convinced you heard something in the walls... There wasn't anything but that didn't fix the issue.

Finally you gave in and went to therapy and after awhile you finally began to feel settled. You felt safer. He couldn't hurt you anymore.

-

You were washing the dishes and humming along to a fun little bop in your head when suddenly you heard a familiar child-like voice... Certainly it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

Thud Thud Thud

You knew that sound of footsteps anywhere, plate slipping from your hands and crashing to the floor, shattered pieces scattering.

No, it can't be...

Before you could reach for a knife a pair of strong arms embraced you from behind, pinned up against his broad muscular chest, you could feel his heavy breathing.

His masked face pressed into your hair, breathing in your scent desperately.

"I missed you."

It was no longer the childish voice, it was a far deeper and gruffer one, his real voice slipping through. How could this happen? How did he even find you?

His grip grew tighter and it was hard to breathe, you swore he might even crack your ribs if he kept this up.

"Brahms... You're hurting me..."

You didn't receive a verbal response, he only emitted a soft grunt that rumbled from deep within his chest.

He finally got you back and he wasn't letting go.

This time there wasn't a chance at escape.

This little birdies wings were going to be clipped.

-

{More Content}

[rosymccheese]

Hurricane

Authors Note: I wrote this about two years ago and posted it to AO3, and never cross-posted it to Tumblr. But given I want to get back into writing, I may as well start by posting what I got! So enjoy my first fic, two years late.

Ship ~ Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader

Tags ~ Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader is Competent, Storm prep, Brahms is Scared of Storms, Touch-Starved Brahms Heelshire, Reader Replaces Greta Evans, Minor Injuries, Doll Brahms Heelshire, One Shot, Gender-Neutral Pronouns

AO3 Crosspost

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A storm? Like, a thunderstorm? Or is it worse?” You asked. You’d been working for the Heelshire’s for around two months now. And though they’d left you with very detailed instructions on how to care for their beloved son, they had never brought up things such as house care. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying this long. Not into Autumn.

“A full on hurricane.” Malcolm answered, setting the last of the grocery bags down. He continued, “The worst one we’ve had in years apparently. They’re predicting outages and downed trees. I can help you secure the windows and doors if you’d like?” He offered. A sweet gesture. An olive branch of friendship. But you knew better than to take it.

During your short time at the Heelshire estate, and caring for Brahms, you’d learned a great many things. The most crucial being that whenever someone stayed around too long and stole your attention away from the doll you cared for, there was hell to pay. In one instance you found the dining room in complete disarray after simply inviting Malcolm in for tea, during a rare social moment for you. The worst case was when a friend of yours stopped by. They were a globetrotter, and seeing as you already had residence found it simpler to just stay with you. A mistake. One night was enough to send Brahms into the worst tantrum you’d ever seen. Multiple rooms destroyed, a window had been broken, and he had stolen your friend's passport. Your friendship didn’t last long after that. After all, who was to believe that a doll could cause so much harm?

“Thank you, Malcolm, but I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with a few storms in my life, I’ll manage.” You replied. Malcolm studied you for a moment. Likely trying to read you, sniff out any signs of dishonesty. But, there were none. Just that warm smile that could melt anyone's heart. He gave a sigh of defeat and nodded.

“If you say so. Just give me a call if you need anything. I’ll come check on you when the hurricane passes.” With that he gave you a wave and headed back to his truck. You muttered a soft thanks, finally returning to your chores.

Brahms sat in the kitchen where he’d been waiting. Like he was listening to your conversation. You’d grown used to this odd job of yours. Caring for a doll as if it were human. Though you’d always figured there was more to this situation then most believed. You’d heard of people using dolls to cope with loss, the concept wasn’t lost on you. But for a couple well into their later years? And there were just.. Too many small things. Even in the rules. Playing music loud, reading in a loud clear voice, leaving food in the freezer. Food which you knew was going missing.

But the biggest tell was an accident. It had been about a month into the job. You’d actually begun to believe Brahms was a child's spirit trapped in the doll. What with him moving around on his own, and leaving you little offerings, and once saying your goddamn name when he was upset. But then, just by accident as you were putting Brahms to bed, you hit your foot against the wall. It had hurt so badly you thought you’d broken a toe. But what stood out in your mind even now was the sound the wall made. It didn’t make the thud you knew from stubbing your toe time and time again in youth. The wall sounded hollow. There had been an echo. Now you knew some older houses had hollow walls. Normally the cavities between the two layers were used for insulation. But that echo.. That wasn’t a normal hollow wall.

After that you’d started paying closer attention to the house and Brahms as you went about your day. Watching and listening. Countless nights where you’d lay in bed and just listen. You’d hear shuffling, the rare footstep like someone had stumbled. Once you swore you heard breathing. You noticed how many rooms had large paintings or cabinets, your size or larger. For a while you thought you were going mad. There was no way in hell that an elderly couple had been keeping their son in the walls for twenty years. But then you learned of the Heelshire’s deaths. Suicides. So many things pointing to something you didn’t quite know how to feel about. On one hand, you were now basically the sole guardian of a doll who was actually a stand-in for the hypothetical twenty-eight year old man in the walls. On the other, Brahms was now completely alone after twenty years of isolation. Alone, save for you. Sweet, kind, loving you who treated a porcelain doll like a real boy. Who read to him every night and tucked him in with a kiss. You couldn’t just leave him. No matter what Brahms was.

“We’re in for a storm, Brahms. I guess that means we’re having a slumber party downstairs tonight.” You cortled, putting the last of the groceries away. You took note of how little perishables Malcolm had dropped off. Thinking ahead. You wouldn’t be able to cook for however long the power was gone, if it did go that was.

You turned back to the doll, scooping him up and taking him with you. You figured the downstairs office would be the safest place. The windows were relatively small and were less likely to break. It would do for your purposes. You sat Brahms in the corner and got to work moving the desk out of the way. You’d have to lay down blankets and things to sleep on. You doubted the old fashioned Heelshire’s were going to have something like an air mattress.

You spent a good hour doing basic storm prep. Dragging some old blankets and comforters out of wardrobes and laying them down on the floor. Filling up buckets and the tubs with water. Getting crossword puzzles and cards. By the time that was all done, it had begun to rain outside. The calm before the storm you supposed. The last thing on your storm checklist was lanterns. This was an old house, you were certain that the Heelshire’s would have oil lamps somewhere. Naturally the first place you wanted to check was the attic.. But you knew better. After all, if your theory was right you didn’t want to scare the poor man by invading his space. So you settled on checking the cellar first.

Only issue was, you really couldn’t bring Brahms. You knew he was never meant to be alone but taking a fragile doll into a dark cellar was too risky. He’d have to stay upstairs. You were hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.

“Brahms, I’m headed to the cellar. I’ll be quick, I promise.” You hummed. With that, you headed down alone. You had been right, it was dark and musty and damp. You started to wonder if there was mold down here. You flicked on the old dingy light which surprisingly still worked. You began digging through the clutter. Old things like furniture, clothes never worn since the sixties, even some art pieces. It was like a time capsule. You didn’t have time to walk through history though, you needed to find anything that could give light without the use of electricity. Lower and lower you went through the piles, until finally you found something. A pair of old oil lamps and a small can of oil to go with it. You muttered a soft thanks, pulling them out from beneath wicker chairs. But what was behind them gave you pause.

The bricks were singed. Dark burn marks that showed age. Your eyes followed the marks. The furniture in here had covered them, but now they were exposed after your rummaging. They flowed over the bricks going upwards. They almost looked beautiful. But that beauty hid a tragedy that plagued this home. You knew why they’d been hidden with so much clutter.

Your thoughts were interrupted when something crashed behind you, making you scream and jump. When you turned you saw one of the mirrored vanities stored away had been smashed. The mirror shards now littered the floor. And on the steps sat the Brahms doll, staring you down. It took you a moment to catch your breath, realizing your error. Brahms didn’t want you uncovering his painful memories. And he’d made sure you knew that. Gathering yourself, you pushed the lamps aside and began to put all that you’d moved back into its place. Covering those painful memories back up, letting them remain hidden and forgotten. Once finished you picked the lamps and the can up and approached Brahms. Kneeling to his height you gave an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry Brahms,” you spoke with such a genuine tone of sincerity, “I shouldn’t have snooped around. But look! I found the lamps we’ll need!” You held up the lamps, jostling them a little so they clinked together. Of course the doll remained frozen. But just faintly, almost missable under the sound of rain pouring down, you heard panting. Like someone coming down from a rage.

“I’ll clean up the shards, then we’ll head back upstairs, okay?” You’d started speaking to Brahms out loud more after you’d learned about the walls. Feeding your own delusions some would say. You held your word, starting to pick up the larger shards and resting them on top of the vanity. The smaller ones you just brushed away with some loose fabric you found. You didn’t really plan on coming back down here anyways, not after that outburst.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always found time moves slower when there was a storm. The day seemed to drag on as the storm became worse and worse. The wind had picked up and those raindrops just kept getting larger. It was loud, even on the bottom floor. You had settled on just simple sandwiches for dinner, making sure to put a ‘spare’ in the freezer. And after that you’d just settled in to do a crossword. It was.. Probably the first time in weeks where you felt safe. There was something about the dim lighting and blankets that just felt right. Secure. Warm. Brahms sat under the covers and you’d even given him a crossword book of his own. Slightly cruel, knowing he couldn’t move with you there with him. But at least you’d been talking to him. Funny, you always struggled talking with real people. But this doll turned you into a chatterbox. Maybe it was the simple fact no one was attempting to speak over you. Like someone was actually listening.

Your tranquility was disrupted by a large gust of wind, followed by a crash that made the manor shake. And what sounded like a scream. It had come from upstairs. Something inside you just knew. That crash was in the attic. You were running upstairs before you even had time to think. Up the stairs, and finding the attic ladder down. You were unsure if it had come undone itself or if someone had moved it. That didn’t matter as you climbed up. It was your first time in the attic but you didn’t get a chance to explore. A branch had flown off a tree and crashed through the wall, opening it up to the elements. You could only act, no time for clear thoughts. You grabbed a nearby blanket and started to desperately try to cover the hole, but another gale blew you back. There was nothing you could do to patch it right now, not unless you wanted to risk injury or worse, death.

Your rattled mind returned to the scream you had heard. Or at least you thought you had heard. Looking around you didn’t see a body but there was a bed up here. A tv, a sink.. Someone was living here. You didn’t have time to celebrate your theory being proven. Where was Brahms? Your eyes flitted around, finally landing back on the ladder. Somehow you had missed the very clear bloody handprint on it during your panic. But if Brahms was bleeding.. Oh God, how badly was he injured? Quickly you descended the steps, trying to find any sign of him. You were too panicked to even fear this man who was hiding from you for so long. All you knew somewhere in this house he was hurt and bleeding.

“Brahms?” You called, starting to check every room. Could he have climbed back into the walls? Fearing you discovering him? You checked everything on the top floor and worked down, calling his name in a more desperate tone with each exclamation. But finally you found him. Turning the corner back into the downstairs study. There he sat, in place of the doll. It wasn’t what you expected to see. The mask was shocking at first glance. You were momentarily stun locked. He was bigger than you anticipated, even sitting down. Finally you snapped out of it when he looked at you, and held out his bleeding hand. It had a sizable gash across the palm.

“It hurts,” He spoke in a child-like voice. The voice you’d heard months ago. His head drooped a touch as he spoke, “Can you fix it?” He asked. Finally, after another beat, you nodded. Your mouth felt dry. Too dry to speak. In the kitchen you found the first aid, and took it back with you. He hadn’t moved from his place on the makeshift bed. You knelt beside him, and carefully took his hand in yours. Up close you could see the burn scars that ran along his entire right side. Suddenly his outburst in the cellar made much more sense.. Carefully you applied some rubbing alcohol to the cut. That made Brahms whimper and pull his hand back. The look in his eyes behind that mask was murderous.

“I’m sorry, Brahms, but I have to.. To clean it.” You choke out. Your mouth is still far too dry. You hold your hand out for his again, giving him those warm eyes again. He would trust you wouldn’t he? After all, you had been the one to care for him all this time. He looked at your hand, then back to your face. For a moment Brahms almost seemed entranced by your eyes before conceding and resting his hand back in yours.

“Good boy..” You said, starting to clean the wound. He made a noise akin to that of a moan at your praise. You supposed you were the first person to touch him or give him praise in years. He was likely touch starved. Once the cut was clean, you grabbed the bandages and began to wrap his hand. He kept watching you. His breath was heavy behind that mask.

Finally you were done, and you let his hand go. Brahms examined your work, how carefully you’d wrapped him, and the cute little bow you’d tied it off with. As he studied his hand, you studied him. Despite the childish voice he put on, he was very much an adult. You could see his beard poking out from beneath the porcelain. He was actually rather handsome, you’d admit. The rain picked up again, and the lights began flickering. Brahms jumped and quickly moved closer to you. Before you knew it his head was hiding in your lap. Apparently he was afraid of the storm. Made sense, it had attacked him after all. Carefully you began to stroke his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“We’ll be okay. Just a little wind and rain, that’s all. Maybe we can play cards? Or I can tell you a story?” You offered. Just trying to find anything to distract him from the weather outside damaging his home. Slowly he nodded, not lifting his head from your waist. Actually his grip seemed to grow tighter. You could feel him inhaling a little too deeply, and his hands started to squeeze your thighs as he held tight. You felt bad thinking how unsurprised that made you. But he had lived in the walls for twenty years.. And you were likely the first person he’d had stick around.

You settled back on to the makeshift mattress, Brahms never letting you go. He shuffled up a bit, so his face was resting against your chest. You kept stroking his hair, picking your brain for a story to tell. Something romantic as you had a wild feeling that was right up his alley. You recounted the story of Pride and Prejudice, not skipping any details of the classic story. Brahms seemed all too enthralled by the tale. He even began to kick his feet in the air when you recounted the climax between Elizabeth and the beloved Mr.Darcy. Just before you could finish though, the lights finally gave out. Brahms tensed up against you and again hugged you tight against him. You let out a wheeze. You needed to get the lamps but he seemed content just smothering you until the lights came back themselves. Finally you managed to sit up as he continued to cling like a baby koala.

“Brahms, sweetheart, I need to light the lamps.” You manage to get out. But that seems to make his grip tighter. He shakes his head, face pulling your shirt back and forth.

“No. No lamps. I don’t want any fire in the house.” He whimpered. Your heart broke a little. That night seemed to have never left Brahms.. You stroked his back soothingly before trailing your hands to cup his cheeks.

“Brahms, we need light. It’ll be okay, I can work an oil lamp-” You were cut off as Brahms slammed you back down against the floor. Even with the cushioning it knocked the air from your lungs. Your hands fell from his face beside yourself as his own gripped your shoulders.

“No fire in the house. Never again.” His voice was no longer that high falsetto. Instead it was deep, aggressive. He sounded his age. You gasped for air, before nodding. Tears had pricked your eyes. You felt a twinge of guilt as you questioned whether or not he’d hurt you.

Finally you found your voice again, “Okay Brahms. No lamps, I promise. Do you want another story?” You asked in a feeble attempt to calm him back down. Lucky for you it seemed to work. Brahms grip on your shoulders loosened, and he returned his head to your chest. He nodded and urged you on to tell your story.

A shaky sigh escaped you. You thanked your lucky stars that you could calm him so easily. As you began telling another story, the rain and wind outside crashed into the manor. You knew Brahms would never harm you. Not you. Not his caretaker. But you began to wonder. How long would this storm last? Suddenly, in the dark, the room no longer felt secure.

[rosymccheese]

sweater weather | brahms heelshire x reader

18+ only

summary: you ask brahms to knit a sweater for you. he gets excited.

includes: edging, slight manipulation, possessive + jealous brahms

author's note: pls let me know what you think! i love this wall boy so much 💕

@buggwritesmain here you go! tagging you as requested ☺️

-

one night, as you tangle your fingers in his hair, you ask brahms if he would ever knit you a sweater.

"yes," he says after a moment, voice muffled by his mask. "you would like that?" his eyes are curious, a light jade in the glow of the morning sun.

"just for me," you tell him. in the space between the walls, you had seen the hanks of wool and the long wooden needles. throughout the room, there were scarves, socks, a few sweaters. before you, he must have had a lot of spare time spent carefully weaving rows of soft fabric to brave the cold winters.

"of course," he curls himself into your embrace, tangling his legs with yours. the old bed creaks at the shifting of weight. "i would never dream of making one for anyone else."

he's been talking more often, you've noticed. when your relationship had started to sprout to what it was now, he would rarely speak and usually it was to beckon you closer. he could never stand not being around you, after all.

you think it's endearing. in the time he yearned for you in the darkness, had he ever tried to practice what he would say to you? for a moment, you imagine him whispering in the quiet of the night as you slept, thinking of what he would do if he could have you.

the thought makes you hold him tighter.

he lets out a small, satisfied sound at the sensation of his hair being pulled. earlier today, you had entered the house to find him in a mood again. no matter how many times you had asked what was wrong, he refused to tell you. right now, it seemed like whatever had bothered him had subsided. at least for the moment.

"quite the romantic, aren't you?" a fond smile spreads across your face. hearing him flirt was something that was still new to you. "someone's been reading his new books."

through your fingertips, you felt rather than saw the blush that spread up his neck.

this close to him, you could hear the faint sound of him licking his lips.

"i've learned more than just that," he said, pride seeping into his voice. below the blanket, you feel his knee press in between your legs. "would you like me to demonstrate?"

the next day, brahms gently wraps the measuring tape around your bicep. you're both in his hovel - recently cleaned and organized thanks to your insistence and his grumbling. this part of the house hasn't been completely sealed from the elements, so there's a slight draft that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"you're cold," he says, the warmth of his fingers trailing lightly across your collarbone as he measures your shoulders. it's tempting to lean into his touch, but he instructed you to keep still.

"w-we should move inside," you breathe deeply, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. the manor was warm and you had packed the fireplace with fresh wood just an hour ago. surely it would be fine to take your measurements there, wouldn't it?

"no." there's a sweet note to his voice, almost self-satisfied. "i want us to be here."

and when he says that, without any hint of sympathy, you realize you've been tricked.

"you're enjoying this, aren't you?" from making strange noises during your first month at the manor to taking your things, brahms could be mischievous whenever the mood struck him. standing so close to him in the cold draft, you were certain this was one of those times.

it must be thrilling, you think, for him to see you all vulnerable like this.

you suppress the urge to shiver. instead, you bite the inside of your cheek as you ask, "what's really happening here?"

"it's simple," he says, tightening the tape around your abdomen. the length of ribbon is cool against your body. just a breath away, you could feel the warmth emanating from his skin.

you had never had something custom made, but you were sure that the process of creating an item didn't require him to be this close to you.

"whenever you feel cold," the tape loosens, falls, and is replaced by his hands, the heat in his palms chasing away the prickles on your skin. "i want you to think of me."

his eyes intensify and you realize you are stuck in the web he's woven for you.

"brahms?" you ask, although any sense in him is gone.

"the other day, the errand boy draped his jacket over you in the garden," he says, his palms drifting to cup the soft curves of your bra possessively. "i saw it," he hisses. "and you came back reeking of him."

"hey," you start, realizing why he had been sulking the other day. he only ever played mozart loud when he was upset and you had to pry him from the shadows between the walls by promising you'd spend the whole day curled up in bed with him. "that didn't - "

it didn't mean anything. but that wouldn't matter now. not to brahms.

"am i not good enough for you?" his voice quakes. there's a note of warning despite its softness. his thumbs make slow circles around your nipples, the pressure of it made agonizing by the cloth separating his touch from your skin. "is that it?"

"brahms," you say his name gently, looking up into his glistening green eyes. your voice is level. steady. it's what he needs when he gets like this. "if you're going to speak to me like that, i have to see your face."

he pauses. you had an agreement that you would only have serious conversations with him unmasked and he had never broken it once. after a moment, he slips off the ceramic shell and sets it aside. a single tear falls from his eye lash onto his cheek. he's so beautiful, this strange man, and he's all yours.

you reach to hold his face in your palm.

"silly boy," you tell him. "you're the only one who can touch me like this."

this time, thankfully, the rage subsides. his gaze softens. in the end, he was always so full of hunger and you know how to keep him fed.

"only me," he says under his breath. "me."

slowly, you guide his hands to unclasp your bra, breathing a sigh of relief as his hot tongue licks into the hollow of your neck.

"only you," you tell him, like it's a promise.

with ease, he hefts you into his arms and lays you onto his cot. the new mattress is soft under your back.

in a moment, he's all over you. his mouth finds the hard bud of your nipple and his hand cups your other breast. you squirm at the feeling of his tongue lapping at you, your hips bucking at the open air.

"mine," he says hungrily. his mouth away from your skin feels like agony. the slick wetness of your exposed skin is too cold.

you need more.

"if you want to be good to me," you tell him. "then you better warm me up."

obediently, brahms slips off your lounge pants and underwear off with ease, wasting no time to slide his tongue along your slit.

you whine at the contact, running your fingers through his soft curls as he laps at your wetness.

he pulls away, his mouth glistening from your pleasure.

"my love is cold," he says, slipping two fingers inside of you. the pressure ignites a lick of heat within your core and you bite the end of your moan. "only i can warm you." your hold tightens on his hair. "only i can give you what you need."

brahms licks at your clit, but he doesn't move his fingers. he wants you to want him, so you fuck yourself against his knuckles. you rut against his beautiful mouth.

he gasps softly against your skin as your thighs squeeze his face.

when you come, shaking and whimpering his name over and over, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers.

"look at you shivering." he laughs, satisfied that he could ruin you like this. brahms sheds his tank top, pushes his pants down. "i can help you," he says. "i can be so good for you."

god, he's stunning. there's a litheness to his body - graceful muscle sculpted from agile years spent quietly sneaking through the shadows.

you want to shut him up. to eat him. you want to pull him down to you and take his neck between your teeth. but when he enters you in one long slide, body pressed against yours, all you can do is gasp.

"that is what you said, right?" he murmurs into the hollow of your neck as he dips his hips deep into you. "only i can touch you like this."

"i have to teach you a lesson," you wrap your legs around him. "about that mouth of yours."

when he pulls away to look at your face, you crush your mouth to his, sinking your teeth into his lip.

"mmph," he trembles, whining softly at the taste of you. before he had made himself known to you, he had fantasized many times about bringing his lips to yours. although you kissed him often, the thrill had never left him.

as the pressure builds again within your core, he pauses before resuming his pace. you rake your nails across his back, eliciting a deep groan from him. the brat was edging you.

"i don't want to stop," he gasps. "you're so perfect and you're mine you're mine you're mine - " he punctuates each repetition with a thrust of his hips and all you can do is hold him.

"come undone with me," he begs, sweat slicking his chest. "i need it, there's nothing else -"

"brahms," you breathe and the sound of his name is all it takes to make him shudder.

when you come, he kisses you deeply, pumping his warmth into you as you shake beneath him.

"i love you," he says, twitching inside of you. "tell me you love me."

"i love you," you tell him, brushing his hair from his face as the post-orgasm glow warms the both of you. there's a moment he spends just staring at you, as if he can't believe you're there in his arms. "did you even keep track of my measurements?"

he laughs. it's a gentle sound - one you wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of your days.

"i suppose we'll have to do this again," he says, his eyes bright and beautiful. he nuzzles into your neck, lips soft as he presses a kiss to your collarbone. "but for now, let me be the one to keep you warm."

[rosymccheese]

𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 ⎹ 𝓑.𝓗.

fandom horror / brahms masterlist / @dollshorror-library

featuring brahms heelshire x chubby nanny!reader ( f! )

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning dubcon, mention of head injury, rough fingering, squirting, brahms uses his little voice

summary you finally meet your ward

word count 3.1k / one shot

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

thanks so much @theluckychemist for another commission! ❤️

commission info & contact

you were locked in a fierce staring match with the open window. the window that hadn’t been open when you had just come downstairs to retrieve your laundry from the machine. it was the same window that had been plaguing you for days. you would close it, only to have it open again the next time you walked by. it must be the vicious winds during the past week’s merciless thunderstorms that were forcing it open at first, but today didn’t make any sense.

today, there were no storms.

the sun was shining, and there was a gentle breeze; nothing strong enough to force the old window as wide as it was.

just looking at it now made you feel queasy; now that you knew it couldn’t have been the storm.

both hands tight on the grips of the laundry basket filled to the brim with your freshly washed, wet clothes, you had to crane your neck to look up at the latch. you wouldn’t be able to reach it, not even on your tip toes. if you stood on top of one of the chairs from the dining room, and still pushed yourself up on to the balls of your feet, you might be able to stretch and reach, but you weren’t chomping at the bit to test the durability of an old, wooden chair that has been around nearly as long as the manor itself.

with a huff, you drop the basket by your feet and careen around it, stomping over to the window. you push it closed with both hands, applying pressure until you hear a faint creak, and a soft click. “Now, stay shut.” you mumbled under your breath, wishing that it was sentient and would obey your orders. you take a step back, looking over the glass for another moment. it’s streaked with dirt from the outside, which has turned to mud and caked itself in place. you should probably wash it next, you thought as you hoofed it back to the basket, hauling it outside to the clothesline.

you had been worried that this gig would be boring— watching an old house, a porcelain doll, and being alone all the time, but you had severely underestimated how much there would be to do. it was as if the manor was a living being, always needing to be tended in some way. you found peculiar messes here and there that you could swear hadn’t been there only days before, and your list of chores never seemed to end.

and, to tell the truth, you didn’t feel all that lonely, either. surprisingly, you felt like sometimes the little doll that was upstairs at this moment could actually understand what you were saying when you rambled on to it. you told little Brahms everything about your life, and how relieved you were to have some peace and quiet here for once. the faux child had become so comforting that you had eventually stopped putting him to bed in his own room, and opted for cuddling with it at night. your bedroom was also where you would put him down for naps, as strange as that may sound to anyone but you, and that’s where he was now. lying on your pillow with a soft throw blanket tucked in around him.

you thought about the little thing as you stretched a skirt, clipping the hem to the line. you were only supposed to watch him for a few days, but it had already been well into the following month, and still the Heelshires hadn’t come home. the strangest part was that you hadn’t heard a peep— not a phone call, nor a text, not even a note. and yet? yet, every Friday, there was an envelope on the floor by the front door, appearing to have been dropped through the mail slot, containing your pay for the week. how they managed to be so punctual and still so eerily silent was beyond your comprehension.

a particularly pesky blouse had you wishing that you had another pair of arms as you wrestle it on to the line, a pair of clips clenched between your teeth, and as you were clipping one sleeve, you catch a glimpse of something, a blur fading over the window. it startles you, and with a gasp, you drop the other sleeve and the clips into the basket. it was just a bird, you tried to tell yourself, a healthy crow had flown in front of the glass and you’d only caught the reflection. however, when you squinted against the harsh sunlight, you see the window— that damned window, is open again. “You’re shitting me.” you expel in a scoff with a shake of your head.

that was it.

you were locking that damn thing.

your footsteps were thunderous as you practically leapt up on to the porch and flung the screen door open. it slammed behind you, a loud testament to your annoyance with only you there to witness it. you hooked your arm under the backrest of the chair in the dining room and dragged it across the flawless, wooden panels in the floor, the legs hissing as if they were displeased to be treated so carelessly. unfortunately for the furniture, you couldn’t care less. you were at your wit’s end with this fucking window.

you slammed it shut. determined it would be the final time.

angling the chair in front of it, you grasp the back to pull yourself up on to it, and the legs creak. you were certainly not confident that the rickety thing could support you, but you thought it best not to think about it. get up there, lock the window, get down.

standing on the very tips of your toes, you had to stretch your arm until it nearly ached, and even then, only your fingertips could brush the lock. “Come on,” you whisper, before biting down on your lip.

the chair creaks again.

“Dammit…” even trying to bounce, you couldn’t grab the lock. “Almost…” cautiously, you push yourself on to one foot, hoping to propel yourself high enough to push the rusted bolt into place, but you were unsteady to say the least, and the chair had reached its limit. one leg cracks under the weight, throwing you backwards like a bronco that had just bucked you off. you hadn’t even the time to scream before you felt the back of your head connect with the hard floor, a white, hot shot of pain, the wind knocked from your lungs, and then… nothing at all.

complete.

utter.

blackness.

the first thing on your mind is how much your head hurts.

“Ah…” you groan, squinting as you reach for it. something pushes your hand away, and it falls limp. you expect it to hurt when your arm smacks against the floor, but that doesn’t happen. it hits soft, familiar warmth. your mattress? eyelids fluttering, you feel fingers, big ones with roughly calloused pads holding your chin, keeping your head angled. “Who…?”

“Shhh.” comes a soft voice. your lids part, your vision blurred, and you stare at a mass of red and white on the bedside table. it takes a moment for the haziness to fade, and you realize what you’re looking at. a bowl of water, tinted red, and a rag tossed over the rim, littered with red blotches. blood.

your blood.

your attention snaps from the bloodied rag to the body hunched over you. you smelled him long before you could make out his shape. it wasn’t an unpleasant smell, but the rather strong scent of sweat. you could feel his warmth— he was, after all, close enough to your limp frame.

“Who are you?” you blink, eyes trailing over the trousers, the damp, white undershirt strapped down with black suspenders. there’s a furious tufting of dark hair that sprouts from under the neckline, and it’s sparkling with beads of perspiration. “Who—“ you start to ask again, but your jaw hangs open as your eyes coruscate, higher and higher until you see his face.

no, not his face.

the doll’s face.

“Brahms?” it came out as a question, an incredulous one, although you already know it to be true, and the massive figure hesitates, before giving a little nod. he seemed to be inspecting the back of your head, you expected he had also cleaned the wound that must’ve been back there, if the bloodied water was any indication. “But… how—“

“It hurts?” you blink, startled. the voice is soft, childlike, and not at all what you would’ve expected from the mountain of a man lingering over you. “It still hurts?”

you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, chewing on it uncertainly, but shake your head, glancing to the bowl again. “No… Brahms, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Did you tend to it?” another, shy nod. Brahms gently poses your head back on the pillow, and you resist the urge to wince. then, his rough digits fall to your neck, where they rest. “Thank you…”

he doesn’t answer, but he also doesn’t move. he’s still hovered over you, fingers trembling against your throat, and you’re starting to notice how his chest rises and falls with heavy, muffled breathing behind the mask.

“Have… have you been hiding?” you ask, heart pounding against your chest, “All this time?”

“Mhm.” he answers, his fingertips dipping just under your neckline. they were timid to a certain extent, you could tell by the way he shook, but something else drove him to act beyond his sheepishness. starvation, perhaps? years without another person to touch. “But I don’t have to hide anymore.” he says, matter of factly, “Not from you. You didn’t leave me.”

“Brahms, I—“

“You’re mine.” those words sank deep into your bones, resonated like a pounding drum. his hand pushes deeper into your shirt, cradling your breast in his palm, and he lets out a blissful whine. you gasp, and reach for his wrist to stop him, but his other fist finds yours and pins it to the pillow above your head. “Mine.” he says again, this time much more desperate as he kneads your breast, snorting like a wild animal already. “Mine.”

you don’t want to moan, but you can’t help yourself. it feels good, despite Brahms’ roughness, and you whine as you squirm under his weight.

“Mine…” he moans, too, only fueled by your soft, heavenly sound, and squeezes harder, pulling at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger, “Mine!” only a moment later, he has your shirt ruffled up over your chest and tucked under your chin, exposing both of your breasts, and he’s straddling your legs to keep them down, both hands now focused on your heaving chest.

you’re confused, lost, because you know that you should fight back— try to push him off, at least, but you don’t. your arms stay where they are, up by your head, and your back arches when he gropes you particularly roughly. it had been a while since you’d been touched like this. “Brahms!” you gasped, breathless, “Easy, I’m sensitive…” but that only seemed to spur him to grab you more roughly, squeezing your supple skin in palms that felt like sandpaper until you’re writhing.

and his shoulders are bunched together, leaned forward to rub the porcelain mask against your bare flesh, inhaling deep so that he may smell the sweet aroma of your flesh through it, nesting the nose in your cleavage. “Please…” you mumble, but now you’ve soaked through your panties, just letting this strange man grab on you, and you no longer knew what you were begging for.

“Beg me,” Brahms grunted, husky, as he scooted off your legs, grasping the waistband of your pants and panties simultaneously to pull them down, too. “Beg me again!”

with your head spinning, you start to bring your knees up in defense once you’re bare from the waist down, but he grasps your ankles and pulls them straight, spreading your thighs with his knees to give him enough space to sit in between them. “Bra—hms—“ you stutter, uncertain, your hands shaking against the pillow behind your head. “P—please…”

he moans again, pathetic and soft, as if just hearing you say his name was edging him, and he cups your sticky sex with one, large paw. his movements are uncouth and base, driven by instinct alone. he forces one, thick finger into you without so much as a bat of an eyelash, and he whines into your chest, feeling just how warm and wet you are on the inside. “Feels good…” before you could even protest, another finger has joined the first, stretching you open. your nails dig into the fabric of the pillow and you cry out, squinting against the sensation. “So good!” Brahms mewls, pumping both of them knuckle deep. he doesn’t bother with being gentle— in fact, you didn’t think he could even if he wanted to, because every sound that you make is driving him crazier and crazier. “You… sound…. So pretty. Wanna hear more. I need more.” he’s mumbling to himself as he drives his fingers into you deeper, harder, trying to force the sounds from your throat.

“S—slow down, please!” you cry in desperation, eyes wide and focused on the dark ceiling. all of the tenderness of your skull fades to make room for the brutal finger fucking you’re getting. one of your hands flee to grab his wrist and try to force him into a slower rhythm, but he refuses, pumping even harder. “Too much!”

“I can’t.” Brahms whines, laying against your body until the smooth mask is smushed against your cheek. you can hear him now, breathing ragged and moaning, soaking your body with his sweat. “I can’t… Need to hear you…!”

if he hadn’t been pressing you into the mattress, you would’ve been thrown about the sea of blankets like a lifeless, rag doll with just how powerful his barrage to your sex was. your knees come up again, digging into his sides, trying to push him off, but he’s so much stronger than you that you can hardly believe it. the primal beast curls his fingers and you nearly come out of your skin. they’re just lengthy enough, and reach deep enough, to caress your sweet spot. you whimper, mouth hanging open. “That’s—“ you try to speak, but your mind goes blank.

that’s the spot.

keep going.

you don’t say the words, but luckily you don’t have to. the muscles in his arm tightens, and he drives those cruel fingers into the same spot, relentlessly, until you’re practically in tears. there’s a hard, thick lump in his trousers that he’s rubbed against you until he starts to soak through them, moaning and pleading, calling for you. you can imagine he’s already cum himself, just from fingering you. the thought alone is enough to turn your stomach, and somehow push you closer to your own downfall.

he wasn’t skillful, not in the slightest, but he was eager, and he knew the jackpot when he found it.

you can hear the sound of your cunt gushing before he’s even pulled back to marvel. a whiny, “Wait!” escapes your swollen lips, as if begging yourself not to come undone, but it was much too late for that. you were already swept away, your pent up frustration exploding in the form of a waterfall that drenches him from chest to groin when he sits back on his calves. you imagine it’s to marvel at you as you squirt for him; you can’t imagine he’s ever seen that before, and even through your slitted lids, you can see his eyes in the dark holes of the mask, as big as saucers. staring. your countenance scrunches in humiliation, but he’s still pumping his fingers, pushing your buttons from the inside, so you just keep spewing. “Brahms!” you cry, nails digging into his wrist, your body pushing itself in an arc off the bed, levitating, trying to escape him. “I— can’t—!”

you’re spent when he finally slows down, and you fall back against the bed and struggle to catch your fleeting breath, your whole body a sea of shivers and shakes. his head dips with a happy whimper, and he smears the expressionless mask over your dripping cunt, coating the porcelain in your cum. “Do it again.” he whines, amazed, nuzzling. you can hear his lips smacking, and you assume he’s managed to lap at some as it finds its way beneath the mask. “Please do it again. It’s… so yummy…” mortification begins to overtake the temporary bliss of your powerful orgasm and you’re stunned with it, face on fire as you listen to him beg for you to cum again.

“I… I can’t…”

“Why?” he sounds heartbroken.

swallowing hard, your shaking hands rest against the top of his head, digits combing through wild, chocolate tendrils. they’re damp with sweat— and, maybe your slick, as well— when you pet them, he seems to croon into your caress. “B—because… doing that makes me really tired.” you try to explain, convincing yourself that you’re not going to simply pass away from embarrassment. but gods, you felt like you would. “I have to… rest before I can do that again.”

his head snaps up at that, so abruptly that you jump, too, pulling your hands back. you were worried you’d done something he didn’t like. “But you will do it again, won’t you?”

you considered that question.

your stomach bunched up in knots.

“I—“

he nods, as if answering for you, snaking both big and powerful arms around your waist as he hugs your midriff tight, resting the side of his head against your navel. “You can only do that with me from now on. Until forever. Do you promise? You have to promise.”

“I… promise…”

[rosymccheese]

Clingy brahms with separation anxiety having a breakdown after reader went out for groceries (malcolm isnt here) and reader coming back to him laying infront of the door asleep with ouffy eyes and then they take him to the bedroom and cuddle with him and he wakes up shaken up and they(reader) comfort him?🥹

Its can be any pronouns ;w;

Alone

Okay, this is my first time writing for him, so let me know how I did!

Gotta love me a clingy Brahms... but what if this is the reader's first time meeting him? What if the reader never knew who he was until they leave?

Brahms Heelshire x gen!reader

You hated to leave the house this time of year. It's cold, wet, rainy, windy, and gross out there, but you have to get a few things. Malcolm wasn't coming to the house until the end of the week, and to add insult to injury, he's come down with the flu. So, why should you risk going out while he got the flu? In this weather?

You wrote a sticky note, telling him where you were going, but you needed to tell him in person. You remember that your parents left without telling you once, and it scared you shitless. Yes, they left a note, but it still wasn't the best thing for you.

You sat the doll down in the living room with some of Brahms's favorite teddy bears, making the warmest cuddle pile that you could muster. "Brahms, honey, I have to go to town for a moment, okay? I promise to be back as soon as I can."

"No," you heard from the walls, the little boy calling for you. "Don't leave Brahms."

You fixed his little jacket and straightened his hair just a tad. "If you are on your bestest behavior, I'll let you have extra ice cream tonight--"

"Brahms... wants y/n," the voice said again on your left. the little voice echoed throughout the living room and it nearly broke your heart. "Don't leave me."

But you have to get some food. You have enough to last two days, but it's Tuesday. You can't have that. What type of caretaker would you be if you let little Brahms starve? What type of person would you be if he didn't have everything he needed? You let out a tired and quick breath and closed your eyes.

You stood up and went to the coat rack. You started putting on your warm jacket when you heard the walls crack as if there were rats. It's been doing that lately. More often than normal, actually. You've been here for a handful of months being the doll's nanny, and you loved it. Everyday was a new adventure with Brahms. Everyday, something new happened between you and the doll. The ghost of the boy even started talking to you more and more. You thought you were going insane, but he made it clear that it was him. The silence between you two was filled with bits of joy and happiness. The more you watched over Brahms, the more your heart swell for the doll.

As for his ghost and the walls moving? You couldn't make out if his was trying to scare you or make you nervous. Either way, a new rule was made: No Jump Scaring the Nanny. After that, Brahms's doll stopped moving from one room to the other, and you were thankful for that. You didn't want to have a heart attack every time you turn around and meeting a still doll looking back at you.

The house never felt empty when you and the doll hung out, you following the rules as close as you could. You and Brahms walked around the house every other day. You would carry him with such care as you talked about anything and everything. You loved seeing the art hanging on the walls, and you loved telling him daring storied behind some of the paintings. The house never felt alone with you around, and you felt as if he was thankful to have you. Maybe you're his first friend? Even at night, in separate rooms, you never felt alone. You always felt as if a guardian angel was watching you while you slept. Sometimes, you would feel as if your angel was sleeping next to you as the end of the bed, sitting on the edge, or leaving a kiss in your hair.

You weren't alone, y/n. Never were alone.

You went back into the living room and your face fell. The doll moved from the cuddle pile of teddy bears to your keys on the counter. He was sitting on it as if he could stop you from leaving, but he had to face it that he was just a doll, not human.

"Brahms," you breathed as you went to the keys. You pick them up then picked Brahms up. You carried him to the cuddle pile again. Turning, you took your jacket off the couch and placed it over him like a blanket. "Can you be a good boy and stay here? Not trash the house like last time?"

The last time you left, it was just to get the mail. When you came back, the library was turned upside down. Malcolm helped put things together while you put Brahms in time out, sitting him in a chair, facing the corner of the wall. That night, you had a heart-to-heart with him not to turn the house inside out whenever you leave. As punishment, you didn't give him his goodnight kiss or read to him. The next morning, you woke up to a drawn picture made out of crayons of some flowers, and there was a written apology on the back of the drawing.

"Stay," the boy's voice said again, but it sounded like it was over you. You looked you, jerking your head to see nothing by the ceiling. "Y/n shouldn't leave Brahms."

You looked back at the doll and placed a kiss on his head. You stand and took one last look at the room. "I will be back in two hours, okay? I promise."

"Don't go!" You heard something far in the house break, and it sounded like glass. "Don't leave me! I'll be good! Brahms will be good!"

"I'll be back!" You promised. "I swear!" You opened the front door and left, locking it behind you. As you started down the steps, you could've sworn you felt eyes watching you with hatred and fear. You looked back at the house then went to the car. "I promise," you whispered.

You started your car and left the Heelshire Mansion.

****************

As promised, you were back within two hours with a five bags of groceries and fast food. You got Brahms a Happy Meal to make up for leaving. You knew he'll be mad, but you hope he'll understand. His ghost was different to deal with sometimes, but you were happy with it. He wasn't the worst kid you've looked after, but he wasn't a saint either. Some days were better than others, but you always kissed him goodnight and read to him in the rocking chair in the den.

But you would be lying to yourself that you didn't enjoy leaving the house for a while, too. If it wasn't for the wind and the rain, it would be a halfway nice day. Maybe you would take Brahms on a drive once the weather gets better outside. You think he would love to go on a drive to the bookstore and back! He could pick out new books and stories for you to read, and you can get a cake pop and a hot cocoa...

Brahms would love that.

You unlocked the door and pushed the door open. "Brahms!" You announced. "I'm home--"

You dropped the bags as you found a grown man in the hallway of the house. He wore light grey sweatpants and a dirty white cutoff, showing different sized scars over his skin. His dark brown hair was curled and untamed, greasy and wild. You wanted to scream and call the cops, but something caught your eyes. He wore a mask that looked just like Brahms's face. The more you looked at him, the more familiar you felt with him. It's like you've known him your whole life being in the house taking care of the doll.

You closed the door behind you and picked the bags back up. He was out like a light, sleeping heavily in the hallway, clutching your jacket. You could see his mask had tear stained streaks over the clay, and you felt bad for him. If this was Brahms, the doll you've been caring for, you'll have to tell not to sleep on the floor because you haven't swept in a while.

You took the bags to the kitchen and put away the cold items before coming back to him. Carefully, you lifted the man up and hauled him to the couch. You laid his head on your lap and just looked at him. The man looked so close to the doll's face, and it almost scared you. There wasn't a ghost in the house. There wasn't a boy's ghost haunting the doll. There was him, and he's been here the whole time. His parents must've hid him away from the world, and you felt sorry for him.

But you should be scared. You should be terrified that there's a stranger resting on your lap, but you didn't fear a thing. The paintings of a young boy around the house was in your grasp. The mountains that he climbed and the laps he made throughout the house just to be near you must've killed him. You wondered how many times he wanted to hold your hand or hug you. You wonders how many times he thought of you when he was alone.

His parents hid him from the world, and that's not right. That wasn't right.

Well, at least he listened and didn't tore the house apart...

You looked at the grandmother clock in the corner of the living room then back at man. It's dinner time, and you thought of the fast food on the counter.

Gently, you shook his shoulder. "Brahms?" You asked in a whisper. "Brahms? Sweetheart, it's time for dinner... Brahms?" The man curled into the lab and buried his face in your stomach. You almost laughed; he reminded you of a puppy. "Brahms, time to wake up." You shake him a little harder this time, and he stirs. "Honey? Wake up," you say, shaking him again.

Slowly, the man sits up and looked at her with a sleepy gaze. It took him a moment to process where he was. When his eyes met yours, he scurried away from you, backing up from on the couch to the be on the other end. There was a mixture of emotions in his eyes: panic, fear, sadness, and hurt. He looked at you up and down the around him. How could he let you see him? He didn't want to meet like this. Not like this! He thought of showing himself to you in a couple of weeks, but this? No. No! This wasn't want Brahms wanted!

His thoughts stopped flooding as soon as your hand touched his. He looked at your hand then at you. "Brahms?" You whispered. "Are you... Brahms?"

You watched his Adams apple bob then he answered in the little boy's voice that you've been hearing for months, "Yes. Please don't be... mad at Brahms. I was... scared." He wanted to curl up and hide from you forever, but he saw your sad smile.

You tilted your head. "Why would I be mad?"

"Brahms left his spot," he answers shyly. "Brahms's a bad boy." His voice cracked as he remembered you telling him to stay right there in the pile. You told him to stay put but he didn't! He's the worse person for not listening to you! You've been nothing but kind to him.

You shake your head. "Oh, Brahms... it's okay. It's alright. You're not bad." Then you realized how truly big the house was and how he felt. How many years did he feel alone? How many times did he watch his real mother love a doll instead of him? He's alone. He's so scared of being alone. "You've must've been so scared of being alone again, huh?"

He nods. "Always alone. Brahms likes y/n. Y/n doesn't make Brahms feel..." he looked around the living room then at the doll in the teddy bear pile. "...alone."

"Well," you said, coming closer to him, taking both of his hands, "you will never be alone, sweetie. Not while I'm here."

"But you left."

"I came back, didn't I?" You asked, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles. "Right? I promised to come back to you, and I did. See?" You offered him a happy grin. "I didn't break my promise."

Brahms looks at you then down at your hands. He's always imagined what your hands felt like in his, and he melts. Carefully, he brought your hands up to his mask to let you touch the smooth glaze and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. Under his mask, he smiles and starts crying. He loves you with all his soul, and his lungs filled up with nothing but flowers for you. All for you.

"You were so brave," you praised. "Such a good boy for listening to me. Thank you for not destroying the house."

His eyes locked on yours. "I'm good?"

"Always been good, Brahms." You glanced at the counter where the fast food sat then back at him. "Let's eat dinner, okay?"

"Cuddle after that?" his little voice asked.

You nodded. "After eating. Sound like a deal?"

He nods as he leans forward into your hands, wondering what they would feel like against his skin. But, that'll be for another day. Both of you would have to take small steps before your lips would trace his, before his hands would hold yours every day.

Small steps, y/n, until you both don't feel alone.

[rosymccheese]

Keep Me Ablaze

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: only one more chapter until we start the second movie! (cough cough check the masterlist to see the titles of the next two chapters cough cough) i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: blood, death, bows and arrows, swearing, claustrophobia?, suffocation, near death experience, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty Five- Demons

—-

You have never believed in fairy tales or monsters. You always believed in science, in what you knew. You believed in the power of the interest because you could touch your phone. You believed in the power of Pandora because you could feel the plants on your skin, the change in the air.

You believe that Jake and Neytiri love you, because you feel it in their touch and hear it in their words. You believe that they love you because they show it, and because some otherworldly part of you knows that they love you. That they always have, and always will.

So, when you watch Jake jump to the ground, shouting at Quaritch to give it up- and seeing the large metal figure whip around- you almost start to believe in demons.

Because you can see him, glass shattered and covered in blood, knife still dripping with a fresh kill.

You slink down further behind the tree you’re using for cover, staying close to the ground as you start to circle the perimeter of the clearing, of the battleground.

“It’s all over,” Jake pants, and you know that he wants to fight, that he looks ready.

You breathe heavily, peeking out from between the branches of a large bush. Quaritch flips the knife in his hands, and blood flys off of it, like some kind of sick joke of a firework.

“Nothing’s over while I’m breathing,” he hisses through the intercom. This sounds nothing like the man who taught you how to hold a knife properly, who told you stories of your father and who honored his promise to keep you safe.

The corner of Jake’s mouth turns into a sick smile. “I kind of hoped you’d say that,” he says, head tilted to the side.

There’s just barely a moment where no one moves, where the entire forest is still, watching with bated breath.

Then, Jake runs forward, grabs some broken piece of metal off the ground, spins in the air- unafraid, brave, the man you feel in love with- even while Quaritch runs forward. There is a determination in his movements.

He means to kill.

Jake grunts and swings out the piece of metal, and Quaritch’s knife hits it with a resounding clank. You use the moment to dive from one spot of cover to the next. This bush to that bush, a large tree next in your sights.

Another clank, grunts and metal moving renting the air. Another, and you make a quick run for it, panting behind the tree.

You take the moment to breathe as an opportunity to look at the fight, make sure he’s not hurt. He said not to blow your cover- to run around and get Neytiri, but you will risk all of it for him.

You gasp as Quaritch slams into the ground, wood splintering and flying through the air. He readies for another punch, but he must be eager now, because he overshoots and his metal body stumbles.

You cannot look at where he’s landed. You have to run, every instincts in your body is telling you to get to Neytiri. You inhale deeply, let it out sharply, and start to sprint from this tree to the next.

Suddenly, a triumphant shout fills the air. You can’t look at it, you can’t.

Then, cool metal closes around your waist.

“Y/N!” Jake shouts, and you scream, startled. You should have looked. You should have made sure.

But, you didn’t, and now this is the reality you must face.

And you’re tired, and you’ve already taken so many lives today.

Your breathes come fast, and you feel like with each deep and reckless inhale, the metal claws tighten around you.

“No, no, Jake,” Quaritch chides, the sound of his panting pourront out through the intercom. “You come closer- I kill your pretty girl.”

You want to scream, to tell him that he was friends with your father, that he can’t hurt you, but you feel like you’re choking on sand and crow. You should have made sure.

The claw tightens, and you let out a shout. Your feet kick wildly in this air, and you press your hands against the top of the claws, pressing down and trying to push yourself out of the jaws of death, the hands of the demon.

Jake’s jaw clenches.

“I… I’m gonna kill you,” he whispers, like it’s some big revelation delivered by Eywa herself.

“And I,” his voice is a taunt, “am gonna remind you of what you truly are. A human. Time to wake up.”

With you in hand, with one stay tear falling down your face, he turns toward the link room, and words spill from your lips, realizing what he plans.

“No! No, please, please, don’t-”

He squeezes so tight your air is cut off for a second. Whether you truly can’t breathe, if you’re just shocked- you don’t know. All you know it that you cannot breathe, and you slam your fists against the metal, and he loosens ever so slightly. As is reminded you are a real person, that he could kill you.

You watch as he punches the window.

He reaches in, towards the nearest bed, slams his fist down and opens it- but it’s empty.

He move’s towards the next window, the next link pod- where you are. You gasp, but don’t dare plead with him again, until you can hear the faint sound of feet landing.

You hear glass shatter.

When you look to the side, the piece of jagged metal Jake has been using to fight with is buried into the glass. It’s so shattered you can’t see if the man inside is dead or alive, but the metal claw around you, controlled by him, loosens and you’re falling.

You shout as you hit the ground, but it was a long drop, and you had just enough time to ready yourself into a good position.

You hear Jake drop down next to you, and for one moment, it’s silent. You think- you think you’ve won, that the metal machine will fall down soon, that the demon will be gone.

Then, the glass pops off and into the air, soaring over the link room and crashing against the ground. More glass, more metal, more destruction.

Jake pushes you behind him, clearly not expecting him to still be alive- the metal must not have gone in far enough.

When he turns, he has an oxygen mask on and murderous look in his eyes.

“Neytiri!” Jake shouts, pushing you behind him, towards her- and you hesitate for just a moment as Jake jumps onto him again, knife in hand.

Your feet hitting the ground seem to echo in your ears, until you fall to your knees. You feel like you’re leaving your body. Your ears start to ring, you can barely breathe- and then you’re staring at the white ceiling of a link pod.

Your eyes widen and you just want to get back to where you belong, so you force away the panic and the fear, gasp once before squeezing your eyes shut.

Then, as quick as you were there, you’re back.

Your ears don’t ring, and when you stand and start running again- your footsteps don’t echo like there’s a person stomping on your head.

You reach her in a matter of moments, brow smeared with sweat, pushing hard on the palulukan that is laid out over her legs.

When you se it up close, the animal that killed your father, it’s different. From far away, you could handle it. But up close, so close-

“She is dead,” Neytiri breathes, stopping her escape for one moment. “She is dead. She can’t hurt you. Nothing can hurt you.” You stay silent, staring at the animal’s closed eyes. “Y/N!” she yells, and you straighten, feeling guilty and horrible.

The texture of the palulukan is not what you imagined. It’s smooth, besides for the scars of life in the forest.

You push and she does too, grunting as her legs scrape against the tree trunk she is trapped against, and you want to take away her pain- but in this hellscape, surrounded by demons and their death, you can’t.

You grunt, and then she is out. She leaps over the fallen tree, picks her bow up off of the ground, and readies an arrow as quick as lightning. Your ears start to ring again, your footsteps echo as you trial behind her, but you keep going.

You watch as she waits for and opening- until her arrow cuts through air and sinks through flesh.

You can hear the gasps from here. His eyes fix in your direction, and he drops Jake, who falls limp to the ground. Another arrow, her string pulled back-

until you aren’t there anymore.

—-

You wake up with a gasp, throwing open the heavy metal door, swinging your legs over the side.

You lock eyes with Jake as you lean against the wall, the effects already starting to get to you. You don’t brother wasting air to say his name. You don’t bother a goodbye, because you refuse to let this be one.

He is already on the floor, wheelchair pushed away far away. You can’t even open your mouth. You can barely even open your eyes. Jake’s eyes are already drooping, and just as you reach the box for the emergency masks- his eyes close.

You make a sound that might be his name, gasping once, before reaching the box and throwing open the plastic covering. You throw one mask to the floor, keep another in your hands, falling to your knees next to him because you can’t even support your own weight anymore.

You place the mask on his face just as Neytiri’s feet slam against the metal floor. You want to look at her, but you don’t, trying to engage the mask. Air hisses faintly.

You gasp once as she approaches you, before you slump against the wall, not able to move anymore. You’re hyperventilating. The forest is killing you.

“My Y/N!” Neytiri shouts, grabbing the mask from the floor and placing it over your face. The palm of her hand is the size of your entire face, and maybe if you weren’t dying you would laugh.

Tears fill your eyes as the air hisses faintly, and Jake sits up with a gasp. You need to engage the mask. You can’t move your arms.

It’s funny, that you should die like this, when you have every means to stop it but you just can’t.

He breathes heavily before his eyes whip over to you.

“Fuck!” her shouts, diving forward and pressing the mask into your face, engaging it, and you never thought you would miss air as much as you did.

The two of you both take deep breaths for one moment.

Then, a wide smile crosses Jake’s face, and you can’t help but return it. It seems like he wants to laugh, but doesn’t quite have the air to do so yet.

He turns to Neytiri, almost as if to say “this is who I am. This is who you See.”

“I See you,” Jake says, reaching forward and placing one of his hands on Neytiri’s face, the other on the side of your neck.

She smiles fondly, like she’s still your teacher and he has just passed her last test. Maybe he really has.

“I See you,” she breathes, placing her hand over his own. She turns to you, watching fondly as you take another few deeps breaths, not quite ready to speak.

You almost died. It almost feels- wrong that you’re alive. But maybe just in this body.

“I have always Seen you,” Neytiri whispers, and then she presses a kiss to the top of your head.

And maybe you are a demon, maybe Jake is too. Maybe you should have died, you deserved to. But you are alive right now, and you can feel their love and you just know it.

“I See you,” you say back. You are a wildfire and a demon all in one. You are you.

—-

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[rosymccheese]

Promises to Keep

Sixteen - Playin' Around

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

| Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen |

It's a bitch to get a taste of your own medicine. It's even worse to be confused about your life.

cross-posted on ao3 here content warning: an attempt at hurt-comfort(ish), shits and gigs word count: 5.7k

“How are you feeling today?”

“Much better. Ready to get these out. They’re itchy.” Jiniraa answered, trying her best not to gag at the overwhelming antiseptic that lingered in the air. The smell in the actual medical wing was overwhelming compared to Renia’s office. 

Renia nodded and slid her chair across the room to grab her tweezers and scissors before pushing off again and sliding right back to where Jiniraa waited. Lurking along the wall, Miles rolled his eyes at the doctor’s childish antics, but he knew better than to say anything forthright.

She had launched a textbook at his head the first time he made a snide comment and her scissors gleaned under the lights. They would be a much deadlier weapon than an oversized textbook. He had tried to make peace with Renia, but it was a work in progress. She made the Colonel work for her peace, not just accept his mumbled ‘thank you’ as he avoided eye contact. Regardless, the two managed to remain relatively civil over the past week since Jiniraa woke up. They were forced to interact when Jiniraa came in for her daily evaluations, so they fought to suppress their insults that just begged to be unleashed. 

It had been a week. A week since their intimate moment and kiss outside, but no one brought it up. Not once. Their gazes would linger longer than usual, but neither had the guts to say anything. Their dynamic was complicated to say the least. In public, Miles made a point to keep his distance from Jiniraa, but tried to keep her within his line of sight. He would hover in the background - like he was doing right now - and try to look busy and make work out of nothing.

On the other hand, Jiniraa didn’t know what to think about much of it. Did she want the kiss? Absolutely - one could argue she was the main instigator. Does that mean she magically forgot everything Quaritch did the moment their lips touched? Well, maybe for the moment, but everything came rushing back right after: the destruction of Hometree, the killing of hundreds of innocent Na’vi, the threatening of the Sully children, and every other heinous crime Miles and Quaritch committed. So, she retreated inward.

After they disconnected and Miles made his declaration for her, the words flowed from her lips before she was able to think, too caught up in the emotional and physical sensations. I see you, Miles. What was she thinking saying those words? He couldn’t have understood, even if he was fluent in Na’vi, he wouldn’t understand the weight of those words. Now, Miles had no clue what she said - a failed translation attempt from Spider only left him more frustrated. 

Since the Recoms tended to move in groups, he knew they could be trusted with Jiniraa’s wellbeing, but there wasn’t a moment outside the housing district where she was left without an escort. When asked, Miles chalked it up to makin’ sure you don’t start bleedin’ to death again. It should be noted that Miles always made sure to escort her to and from the medical wing. He would argue this was the most logical course of action - he would get the information from the source, not some second-hand account from Wainfleet or Zdinarsk. 

The private and public spheres of Jiniraa and Miles were completely different stories. In public, Miles kept Jiniraa at arm's length, limiting their interactions to brief conversations with none of his usual charm. At meals, he would sit at the other end of the table. He was relentless in training, pushing her harder than anyone else. In private and protected from the intrusive Bridgehead crowds, Jiniraa and Miles were free to be themselves. Rather than exploring their physical intimacy, their emotional intimacy had grown much deeper. Once Miles’ door closed behind them, they were back in their little domestic bubble. Once they passed through the threshold to his quarters, there wasn’t any discussion of Ardmore or the greater mission at hand. It was only Miles and Jiniraa and that was all they needed. Did they share a few passing kisses here and there? Sure. The only thing they didn’t talk about was their kiss outside - little stolen pecks were fine to giggle about but the epic kiss under the stars was off limits.  

In the absence of interaction with Miles in public, Jiniraa had grown closer to the other Recoms. She was already closer with Lyle and Zdinarsk out of everyone, but she made leaps and bounds with Lopez, Prager, and Ja. Mansk was a slightly different story because he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Although she wasn’t able to participate, she’d watch from the sidelines as the Recoms messed around with each other in the courtyard. If he wasn’t stuck in meetings with the General, Miles would try to show off in whatever activity the group found themselves engrossed in, but it only earned him a few laughs and eyerolls. 

Lopez may have been on the smaller side compared to the rest of the team, but he easily was the most competitive when it came to sports - even resorting to dirty plays. Prager was a good sport, just happy to be there. Ja was somewhere in between the two - not quite as constantly pumped as Lopez and Lyle, but also not as casual and mellow as Prager and Zdinarsk. The second day after Jiniraa woke up, Spider told her about Ja’s efforts to keep her alive. Using some materials she’d been collecting for a while, she made Ja a bracelet - both a thank you for saving her life and semi-apology for knocking him out in the forest all those weeks ago. Ja just laughed, knocking her shoulder saying “just another day on the job.” He didn’t show it outright, but the words stuck with him for the rest of the day. Although it was against RDA regulation, he proudly tied his bracelet onto his medical pouch. 

“Alrighty, you’re all done. You’re gonna scar, but other than that you shouldn’t have much else to worry about.” Renia disposed of her gloves, cleaning off the bed. Jiniraa was lost in her thoughts for a second, not even realizing Renia had already finished taking the stitches out. “You haven’t been having any pain when you walk, right?”

“No, I do not have any pain there anymore,” Jiniraa answered, sliding off the hospital bed and repositioning her pants. She was still stuck wearing Bridgehead-issued clothing, but they were only a temporary problem. She already had plans to make her next article of clothing, but she just needed more materials. “Spider says I have not been limping, but I did not notice.”

“That’s a good thing,” Miles grumbled, pushing himself off the wall. In front of Renia, they didn’t have to be as reserved with their interaction compared to the rest of Bridgehead. They couldn't go full on make out or anything, but they also didn’t have to pretend to hate each other.

“The Colonel is right - as much as I hate to admit,” Renia mumbled, ignoring how Miles pinned his ears. “That bullet must’ve been the cause of all that after all. You really don’t remember getting shot?”

“Be nice,” Jiniraa slapped Miles’ on the arm, glaring at him for his rudeness. 

“I don’t do nice.” 

Jiniraa decided it was better to ignore him as she continued. “When they found me in the forest, I was already bleeding from that area. I don’t remember being injured, just the aftermath. There’s nothing from before that day.”

Renia nodded, scribbling something down in her notepad. Miles’ eyes were trained on the floor, deep in thought. With a tentative tap on the shoulder, Jiniraa snapped the Colonel out of his daze. His head shot up, meeting Jiniraa’s mildly curious gaze. She had been finding him stuck in his thoughts more and more often. He cleared his throat, “all done?”

Jiniraa nodded, turning around to bid Renia goodbye. The doctor didn’t even look up from her notes as she waved back. A few weeks ago, Jiniraa was clueless when it came to navigating the halls of Bridgehead, but now she knew certain sectors like the back of her hand. The knowledge was a double-edged sword: it was nice not to need a guide, but everytime she turned a corner without contemplating the direction, it felt like a small part of her native self died. 

“Jiniraa, slow your roll.” Miles jogged to catch up. She basically darted out of the medical wing, not able to stand the chemical smell anymore. 

Jiniraa. The name was a punch to the gut. He stopped using those nicknames in public. No more sweetheart and no more baby, even after all those sweet words he said last week. None of it in public. He addressed her using her actual name - historically, he used it out of pure desperation. Those few times in the forest? He was terrified of losing her. Why did he use her actual name now? It was still desperation, but a different type. Ardmore’s threats plagued his thoughts, so he was keenly aware of his word choice, meticulously managing every single syllable. 

Jiniraa didn’t even wait for Miles as she pushed ahead towards the mess hall. As usual, when Jiniraa joined the Recoms at their dining table in the mess hall, all eyes were on them - or her specifically. She’d grown used to the constant unwanted attention, so it didn’t bother her anymore but it didn’t sit right with everyone else - especially Miles. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place when it came to Jiniraa. Ever since Ardmore made her threats clear, Miles knew he couldn’t step out of line because it would risk her and Spider. On the other hand, hearing rumors floating around the nameless humans that crowded the corridors of Bridgehead made him indescribably irritated - at one breakfast he broke a set of utensils from how aggressively he was cutting into his food. 

Miles Quaritch was never one to care about how he was perceived by those around him, as long as they feared and respected him he didn’t give a rats ass about what they thought, but a recent discovery of Bridgehead social strata had begun eating away at him. According to Bridgehead gossip, Jiniraa died during her surgery and that was why the Colonel had been so irritable while she was in her comatose state. Another rumor said he was the one who killed her in the forest in a blind fit of rage, this of course was debunked when she made her return to civilization and the other theory became all the rage. 

“So, what’d the doc say?” Zdinarsk asked with a mouth full of food once Jiniraa settled between Lopez and Ja - at the other end from Miles. 

Jiniraa gave a thumbs up, one of the many human gestures Lopez had taught her in the past week. Some were innocent, others were incredibly profane. “Stitches are out. Renia said I’m cleared for everything.”

Prager sighed, throwing his head back as he looked up to the ceiling. “I wish I saw the doc more.”

Lopez laughed, eyebrows creasing together, “you what?”

“You know,” Prager began, bringing both hands up in front of his chest, “she got a nice rack.”

“Excuse me?” Mansk challenged from a few seats down, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Wanna say that again?”

Prager held a finger up at Mansk, already feeling his death glare burning into his soul. “I’m just saying Mansk, you’re one lucky man.”

“You are fucking disgusting,” Zdinarsk mumbled, focusing back on her food rather than the idiots in front of her. 

Jiniraa watched as Prager tried - and failed - to rationalize his case to Mansk, who had slid his dark shades up, exposing his irritation and borderline wrath. Lopez bumped his elbow against the woman next to him, he already had a dangerous grin as his eyes twinkled with mischief,  “that means you’re playin’ with us today?”

“I would like that, thank you, Lopez,” she smiled back, engaging in an insignificant conversation with the tattooed Recom. At the other end of the table, Miles glowered at his subordinate. Lopez could feel the Colonel’s stare, but he paid it no attention. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was just being nice and inviting Jiniraa to participate in their little games.

Daringly, Lopez glanced past Jiniraa and made eye contact with the Colonel before focusing back on her and gave his most flirtatious grin, “anytime, sweets.”

Miles growled under his breath, stabbing his fork into his food. Looks like another set of utensils were about to meet their untimely end. Next to him, Lyle smirked, knowing exactly what was bothering the Colonel, “hey boss. Everything ‘ight?”

“Don’t.”

Miles didn’t know this, but all the Recoms had a bet on how long it would take before he snapped and made a scene in public. They would push a little more each day, being extra flirty and teasing Jiniraa all in attempts to get a rise out of the Colonel. Miles was gagged - unable to say anything without blowing his “cover”, but seeing that little purple blush that encroached on her ears when Lopez shot a quick wink almost pushed Miles over the edge. She shouldn’t be giggling at his snide jokes or blushing at his nicknames or trading culture with the Recom - those are all things she should be doing with him. He royally messed up - his theory to push her away was biting him in the ass. 

So that’s how Jiniraa found herself outside with a few of the Recoms. For the past few days, she was just an observer. It was refreshing - they weren’t Marines or Recoms anymore. They were just a group of young adults messing around and getting pumped up on competition. 

“So you understand the rules?” Lopez snapped his fingers in front of her face, already knowing she wasn’t listening. Jinraa stood there dumbfounded as Lopez rolled his eyes, lightly pushing her shoulder, “too caught up in that pretty lil’ head of yours, ma.” Jiniraa averted her gaze as an involuntary blush rose. “Tie this around your waist. Put the hanging parts at your hips. Here, like this.”

Jiniraa nodded, adjusting the fabric to replicate what was on Lopez. They had already been divided into teams. She was with Mansk, Lyle, and Zdinarsk while the other team was Miles, Lopez, Prager, and Ja. Spider would be their referee for the day, a suggestion Jiniraa made to keep the teenager involved. He couldn’t use a normal whistle because of the mask, but the screeching buzzer Lyle had in his bag (for whatever reason) made up for it. Spider menacingly laughed the first time he pressed the button and Jiniraa knew right away he was already plotting to terrorize the Recoms with it.

“Hey Lopez!” Zdinarsk called a few yards away as she stretched, “we playin’ full tackle today? Little lady is with us.”

Miles went to object - she hadn’t even been cleared by Renia for two hours, but Jiniraa beat him to the chase, “I want to play how you normally do. Don’t change for me.”

Zdinarsk laughed, popping a bubble before spitting out her gum, “alright then, get ready to get your shit rocked. Who’s shirts and skins today?”

This time, Miles didn’t have to interject as Lopez had already moved to take off his shirt, waving it above his head. He was getting a little too enthralled at today's game. Miles shook his head, making sure to hold eye contact with Jiniraa as he untucked his tank from his belt and peeled it off his skin. 

The teams lined up in the middle of the clearing, Spider placed in between them as he held an avatar-sized football in his hands. “Everyone ready?”

Every single Recom had dangerous smirks and ravenous glints in their eyes. This was their favorite time of the day, evident in how they bounced on their feet when Spider moved to toss the ball into the air. 

Right before the ball left Spiders fingertips, Jiniraa and Miles glanced at each other at the same time. His facial expressions were more exaggerated than the rest of his unit, a devilish grin and gleaming eyes, “you ready?”

Her eyes flicked down to his bare chest for one moment before hardening her expression at his obvious taunts, “of course I am.”

Miles sent her a wink, something daring to do given their current location, but it clearly was a tactical decision. A way to stun Jiniraa momentarily as Spider tossed the ball into the air, giving Miles a chance to grab it before throwing it towards Lopez who was already running towards the water-bottle-marked end zone.

Lyle chased after Lopez, feet sending dirt and grass into the air as he reached to grab Lopez’s flags, but he was just a little too far. Lopez maniacally laughed as he crossed into the end zone, making a point to slam the football into the ground before triumphantly kicking a leg into the air and yelling out, “oh fuck yeah - you see that Wainfleet? That bald ass head is too slow to keep up!”

Lyle’s eyes turned to slits, but his lopsided grin said otherwise. As payback, Lyle gave Lopez’s queue a sharp tug as he sauntered by. To make matters worse, Prager clapped his hands on Lyle’s shoulders as he moved back to center field, “no need to be a sore loser, Lyle!”

Lyle shook off Prager’s gloved hands, “you got one fucking point. You didn’t win.” Their team circled up, making sure they were out of earshot of the other team. “Alright. I am not going to lose to those bastards today. I’ll throw the ball to Z-Dog. Mansky-”

“I hate it when you call me that.”

“-too bad. You go after Ja and Prager while Z runs down. I’ll take care of Lopez.” 

The Recoms agreed, moving to break the circle before Jiniraa spoke up. “What about me?”

“You have the most important job of all - distract the boss.” Lyle winked.

Not catching his drift, Jiniraa tilted her head, “how?”

Lyle smirked, “I’m sure you’ll figure out a way. Alright, break.”

Since Lopez scored first, Jiniraa’s team was given possession of the ball. She hadn’t quite grasped the rules of the game, even though she’s watched half a dozen before. A certain someone often distracted her from the logistics of the game: his muscles and glistening skin were often more entertaining than the sport. Since that’s how Miles distracted her before, Jiniraa decided to use her own charms against the Colonel. 

As Spider pressed his ear-shattering buzzer, everyone moved instantaneously. Lyle threw the ball to Zdianrsk as planned and Miles moved to cut off Jiniraa. Exactly what she wanted. He stood there, arms outstretched and ready to grab at her if she tried to slip past, but he didn’t expect her to stand there with bedroom eyes and a surly expression. Something he’d never seen from her, even in their mild makeout sessions in his room - things never got to that stage before one of them stopped. This time, it was Miles’ turn to be stunned as she winked before glancing over his shoulder to see how far Zdinarsk traveled before Lopez tackled her. Almost half way, not too bad. With a second wink, Jiniraa jogged past Miles to join the rest of the team. 

Miles chuckled, “oh you little minx.”

Jiniraa smugly shrugged her shoulders, yelling back, “just using your own tactics, sir.”

Miles gulped, instinctively straightening his posture as the designation rolled off her tongue. He shook his head, trying to suppress the explicit thoughts that invaded his mind, “Christ, what have I gotten myself into?”

Cursing and yelling took over the field as the game grew increasingly heated. Lopez began his dirty plays after the twenty minute mark, resorting to pulling people’s tails rather than flags and accidentally tripping others. He was careful enough to keep his tricks out of Spider’s eyeline.

“Score is ten-ten. You guys are tied.” Spider announced, grabbing the ball from Miles.

“That’s right!” Miles exclaimed, pumping his arm in triumph after scoring his most recent tough down. He was oozing confidence, jutting his chin out and cocking an eyebrow as he passed Jiniraa. She couldn’t help but admire how his dog tags bounced off his chest as he shook his entire upper body. 

“Circle up!” Lyle shouted. “Alright, I’m going to give the ball to you this time, princess. You’re fast and agile. Just make a dash down the field, yeah? We’ll take care of those bitches.”

It would’ve been the first time the ball was purposefully thrown to Jiniraa. She was on the receiving end of Lyle’s cannon of an arm once before - it was a Hail Mary at the end of the second quarter but Prager managed to tackle her before the ball was secure in her arms. Prager didn’t hold back in his assault - the scuffs of dirt on her skin and blades of grass sticking out of her hair were proof enough. Jiniraa nodded, the competitiveness of the Recoms was beginning to rub off on her. “I got it.”

“Hey, let’s go ‘Niraa’s team! We have three minutes left on the clock!” Spider yelled from center field, hands raised in exasperation at having to wait. Miles stood behind him, hands on his hips. Lopez tapped at his wrist three times to taunt everyone.

Lyle ignored Lopez as he continued, but pointed right at Spider, “I prefer ‘Lyle’s team’.”

“No.” Spider shook his head, not caring how he bruised Lyle’s ego. He scoffed before plucking the ball out of his grip. Spider turned away to hide his smile - he loved getting under the Recoms skin as much as possible. It was one of the only things that made life at Bridgehead bearable. 

By this point, Miles considered himself somewhat of an expert on Jiniraa’s body language, so he knew something was up when she fiddled with her fingers as Lyle looked around at his team. He knew the ball was going to her, but he’d let her have her fun for now. 

As expected, Jiniraa dashed past the opposing team and tried to offer Lyle an opening. It was a good thing his throw was aimed directly for her chest because it bounced out of her arms before she secured it down to run. Miles faked out Zdinarsk, spinning past her to chase Jiniraa as she sprinted down the field. Given her height and injury, she was no match and he closed the gap in a matter of seconds.

“Oh no you don't, baby.”

Jiniraa’s steps faltered as the nickname reached her ears. Between his stripping, the wink, and now the nickname, he clearly was using their undefined relationship dynamic against her, a dangerous move given their location. It’s not like Jiniraa was a saint in the matter - she’d been using the same tactics, but hers were a little more discreet. 

Miles reached forward to grab the flag on her hip, but decided fuck it and pushed off the ground to tackle her instead. He wasn’t going to haphazardly tackle her like Prager did earlier - no, he wouldn’t risk injuring her as his weight came down. In a split second, Jiniraa felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind as they twisted in the air, making sure he would take the brunt of the impact. 

As Miles rotated their bodies in the air, he managed to spin Jiniraa around to face him. When he hit the ground, she landed right on his waist. Her mouth dropped open in shock, not able to comprehend how Miles managed all that in a matter of seconds. Miles smirked from below, reveling in her expression before pushing up on his hands. The movement made her slip down from his waist to press against his hips. He tried to ignore the weight of her body as it pressed into his groin before reaching down and pulling on the flags around her waist. 

“Flag down,” he smirked. Given their current situation, they were at eye-level for once. With a snarl, Jiniraa tried to stand up, but Miles flipped them over so Jiniraa was pinned to the ground. Her hair spread out against the grass, braid falling over her bare shoulder. Her pupils were so blown out that the green was almost completely gone. 

They hadn’t mated, but that didn’t mean their bodies were immune to reacting as they were placed in compromising situations. This time, she wasn’t making the surly expression on purpose - it was her body’s natural response to having Miles on top of her, large hands on either side of her head. He straddled her waist as powerful thighs encased her softer body, muscles not even strained as he supported his massive body weight. 

Miles could get used to this image of Jiniraa below him. She felt the same, heat rushing to her core as she tracked a single bead of sweat travel down the expanse of his chest. She almost threw all her values away right then and there as he bent over and nipped at her neck. 

Her head lulled to the side for a second, allowing him to explore more, but her breathy response made Miles groan into her neck, “Miles…public - we’re in public.”

Miles sighed as he pulled back, realizing she did have a point. There were too many eyes around. He reluctantly pushed himself off her before jumping to his feet. Jiniraa ignored his outstretched hand, brushing the dirt off her legs as she bent over to pick up her flag. 

“I could’ve helped you, you know.” He tried to banter with her, but she only shot him a playful glare before jogging off. He couldn’t help the way his tail swished and his ears pushed forward to full attention as exhilaration took over. 

Lopez snickered as Miles rejoined his team, “nice tackle, boss. A little much don’t you think?”

“No clue what you’re talkin’ about, Lopez.” Miles challenged, eyes trained on Jiniraa as she laughed with her own team. Lopez hummed, obviously not believing a word the Colonel said. 

In the end, Miles’ team reigned victorious as Lopez’s dirty tricks managed to pay off once again. Lyle was pissed, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Lopez was slick enough to hide his tactics from Spider’s watchful eye, so there was no way of getting caught, even though Lyle complained the entire time. It’s not like Spider wanted Miles’ team to win - if anything, he was making calls in favor of Jiniraa’s team time and time again, but that wasn’t enough to secure a win for them. The final score was eleven-ten as Ja managed to intercept a ball meant for Mansk and dashed for the endzone just as the clock ran out.

The sun was beginning to set as the humans started clearing the outdoor space, retreating inside for dinner. Jiniraa sat down on the grass, watching as the sky blurred into rich reds and oranges. Miles approached, dropping a water bottle into her lap, “can I sit?”

Jiniraa nodded, not pulling her eyes away from the sky as Miles plopped on the ground, a little ‘hmph’ forced out as he made impact. Jinraa giggled, a soft smile placed on her lips.

“What’s so funny, hen?” Miles jeered. Jiniraa looked over her shoulder, giving Miles a once over before shaking her head. His tank top was still off and slung across his shoulder, abdominal muscles defined by how he leant back on one arm.

The lower half of her face was hidden in her shoulder, but Miles could see evidence of a smile as the sunset hit her eyes. Without thinking, he reached forward and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, allowing his nails to graze the sensitive shell. Jiniraa’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact. 

“Still in public,” Jiniraa reminded, but made no effort to make him stop.

Miles glanced around, “humans are all inside. The bozos over there are trying to teach Spider how to throw a football. I found a human sized one yesterday.”

“You did?” Jiniraa opened her eyes just slightly, enough to see the softened expression Miles held as he continued to study her features. 

He hummed, “yeah, didn’t want him to feel left out.” As if on cue, Spider laughed out as he managed to hit Lopez square in the side of the head. The Recom let out a string of curses as Lyle almost fell to the ground in laughter, saying it was what he deserved. 

“That’s sweet of you,” Jiniraa offered up, watching the situation unfold past Miles.

Miles grumbled, “I’m not sweet.”

Jiniraa rolled her eyes at his response - he didn’t know how to take a compliment. With a sigh, she pulled her head away from his touch and returned to watching the sunset. 

“Sky is pretty tonight,” Miles offered after a few minutes of silence. 

Jiniraa didn’t respond. Not even a hum or nod. Since Miles was leaning back on his hands, he was given a perfect view of her side profile. A single tear rolled down her cheek, highlighted as the light hit it. He pushed himself forward to get a better look, making sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks. Jiniraa remained with her back straight as another tear followed. This time, Miles couldn’t help as he swiped it away. She didn’t move to swat his hands away - she didn’t move as her eyes remained trained forward.

Miles took her chin between his thumb and index finger, lightly pulling her to face him. She resisted for a second, but even when her head turned towards him, she refused to make eye contact, preferring to watch as everyone cheered when Spider finally threw the ball correctly. 

“Baby, what is it?”

Jiniraa shook her head, trying to pull away but Miles only tightened his grip. His eyes searched her, both face and body trying to decipher what was wrong. He even glanced down to her hip, trying to see if she somehow started bleeding again. 

Jiniraa finally swatted his hand away, wrapping her arms around her knees, “it’s nothing.”

“You wouldn’t be cryin’ if it was nothing.” Miles offered. Jiniraa mumbled something under her breath, muffled as she buried her head into her knees. “What’s that?”

“Confused,” it came out a little clearer.

“About?” Miles continued to pry. 

“You!” Jiniraa spun to face him. Her chest heaved as she held eye contact as long as she could bare before burying her face into her knees once more. Miles remained silent and Jinraa even wondered if he managed to sneak away. Hesitantly, Jiniraa peaked out from her hiding place to glance at Miles. He was still there. He looked younger in this soft light, the creases of his face weren’t present and his eyes looked a little brighter. It wasn’t angered or disgusted or anything bad. It was soft and full of love.

“It’s just,” she paused and groaned, “everyday I feel myself falling further and further from my family, from my people. I’m getting so wrapped up in life here that I am losing myself.”

Miles processed for a moment, “I see.” 

Wrong choice of words, buddy. 

Jiniraa spun to face him, bouncing up to rest on her knees as her chest began to heave again. She stuck a finger into his bare chest, but Miles did nothing to stop her, letting her have the moment, “no, that is the problem. You do not see. You do not know what it means to see and that is the problem. I see you, but you do not see me. Not the way I want.”

Miles held her gaze steady, not looking away for one second. He’d heard Spider and Jiniraa talking about their ‘seeing’ stuff, but none of it made sense to him. “What do you want?”

“To go back to the forest. To go back to my family. To give Spider his life back. To get my life back.” Jiniraa listed, not breaking their eye contact either. 

Miles pressed further, beginning to lean in ever so slightly, “is that all?”

“No,” Jiniraa sighed and looked away. Miles held his breath as he waited for her response. “You. I want you, but that is the problem. I want you and I cannot have you. Not truly. Not with everything else I want.”

“We’re going back out tomorrow, if that makes you feel better,” Miles offered, trying to cheer her up. Based on the way her eyes dropped down and hair tail fell still against the ground, it wasn’t the right thing to say. He completely ignored her blatant declaration of feelings, making her choke back a whimper. He pursed his lips, glancing back at the rest of the group as they remained engrossed with Spider. “Come’ere.”

Jiniraa glanced up, this time her eyes were downturned and teary rather than playful like earlier. Miles waited with one arm open, inviting her to sit between his legs. Slowly, she moved to place herself in front of him, a sigh of relief escaping her as his arms pulled her flush against his chest. She continued to watch the last remaining bit of light recede over the horizon as Miles pressed his lips against her temple, pausing to take a deep inhale of her scent. 

“Just so you know, you don’t have to want me. I promised myself to you that night under the stars. You have me as long as you want me.” Miles affirmed before his tone lightened into a little chuckle, “it’s me who wants you, baby. It’s been that way for a while.”

And well friends, that meant everything. 

●●●

i'm sorry this chapter is shorter than usual. school has been kicking my ass recently and i have a lot going on since i'm graduating in may and have grad school and moving abroad within the next few months. i like to use this story as a little brain break and creative outlet, so i do apologize for clumsy storytelling or if you just hate it lmao. this was kinda a filler chapter because i just didn't have the emotional strength to write the next chapter (you're gonna like it hopefully winky winky).

i appreciate any feedback you have to offer!

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[rosymccheese]

Keep Me Ablaze

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: death, war, battle, mentions of blood, injury, grief, swearing, guns, bows and arrows, tell me if i misses anything!!

Chapter Twenty Four- Watercolor Eyes

—-

The ikrans flying through the air look like someone took a box of watercolors and threw it onto a canvas It’s a mess of blues and orange, red and green and every color imaginable. You stare at it so long you think it will be forever imprinted on your eyes.

Toruk let’s out a mighty war, and the realness of it all forces a smile onto your face. This is life, this is revenge, and it is beautiful. Neytiri painted bright colors all over your face, white and black down your arms and chest. But the centerpiece of it all is two handprints, two tokens of them.

As if anyone will look at you and see the hands, and even care if they know you belong to someone. You stand in front of what they want. Why should they care if you live or die?

You look over at Neytiri, at her father’s bow clutched tight to her side. The small talking piece at your neck itches, but you focus on her yellow eyes- almost hidden by the reflection in her visor. She stares at you with determination in her features, this look in her eyes that says “I will do anything and everything for this.”

Her mouth is parted slightly, and your own ikran lets out a small screech, and it seems to shock her back into reality, into the war. Her lips press down into a straight line.

The wind hits your face as you turn, looking over at Jake, and he only looks at you for a moment- chest covered with grenades and spare bullets, gun flush against his chest. He stares forward, back into whatever is coming.

A million things could lie ahead. A battle field bathed in gold and victory, or one washed in blood. Death and life lies above you, a candle or a wildfire. It is up to you to be the wildfire, to teach the humans and make them learn that you are a force to be reckoned with.

The People are a force to be reckoned with.

—-

You whisper softly to your ikran, patting her neck and feeling her breathe against your thighs. You imagine what’s the come, the adrenaline and the reaction and action.

Neytiri is close next to you, mourning not to remember everything she’s taught you, staring at the bow in your hands like it’s all that stands between life and death.

Maybe if it wasn’t like this, if you weren’t so nervous you thought she could hear your heart beating, you would tell her that it’s all fine. But she’s right. The bow, your mind and your aim are all that stands between you and death. You and the wildfire face the wind, coming like a force to blow you out.

But you are not a candle. You are a wildfire, you do not waver in the wind. Not even a storm could bring you down.

“Norm?” Jake says from next to you, Toruk’s large wings taking up most of the space on this slab of mountain. You meet Tsu’tey’s eyes from Jake’s other side, and he makes no outward response to acknowledge you. Your eyes flick back to Jake, his expression turns from one of water to fire. “Okay,” he says, and turns to you.

He doesn’t need to say anything. The three of you all know what that look means.

—-

Jake leads the four of you, raising his gun into the air and hollering. Tsu’tey follows, shouting commands in Na’vi and suddenly the ikrans are all pouring off the wall, and even though the unknown is right there, you can’t help but think that the colors are beautiful.

But then it all comes rolling back, the fact that a place for your head is marked by a silver platter, and the war cries fill your ears as you tighten your grip on your bow.

Months of training with Neytiri all bubble up to the surface, each bullseye, each ride with your ikran. You take it all and blend it together like some watercolors, as Jake’s voice rings in your ears.

“I’m going to punch a hole,” he says, and you say it into your mind and you ikran slows down ever so slightly, so you can fly behind him and Tsu’tey.

You take a deep breath, too focused to echo back the war cry that each of them do. You take a deep breath and whisper, “down”, so your ikran stiffens beneath you and dives straight down.

The wind blows your hair out of your face, and with the visor you can see perfectly if you squint a bit. It feels like you’re heading into the eye of the storm, the center of the fire- but that is where you must go.

You watch as Toruk grabs into a helicopter, pawing it around and slams it into the mountainside. You can’t help but laugh, before Tsu’tey’s arrow shoots past you and knocks you back into the game.

This is what it has to be. It has to be a game, it has to he unmanned helicopters because are you not just as bad as them if you take a life? You wonder what Grace would say. But something tells you that she would understand. She would know.

So, you tighten your legs, prepare to teach death, and pull back the string of your arrow.

There is this one moment, where you hold a life in your hands. You could do whatever you wanted and change the world. You do what feels right, what your heart knows, what the fire wants.

“Ah!” you shout, wincing at the sound of the shattering glass, but the helicopter spirals out of control and starts falling.

You cannot look any longer, not because it hurts, but because another one is coming towards you. The Colonel must have given the signal, because the ship runs at you with its guns out.

Taking a life was not what you had envisioned for yourself a few months ago. But it is the feeling of winning, the feeling of knowing that you are the one in control, that you are preventing loss today- that is what makes the fire inside burn even brighter.

You nick another arrow. Another moment, another life in your hands, another choice. You make the right one.

It is like you have been screaming for years and no one has heard you. But now, you teach your lesson, speak your spell, and now, they listen.

Glass shatters again, and again, and bullets ring through the air that remind you so vividly of the night Grace got shot.

The helicopters break their formation, and bullets pour all around you, explosions everywhere, and it’s only another moment of that fire before it all becomes water.

A bird call fills the air, and you frown, whipping around and wondering what animal could still possibly be up here in the midst of all this noise?

Then, a bright blue ikran soars past you, and a familiar war cry rents the air. You look over your shoulder just in time to see Neytiri’s arrow shatter the glass, sink into flesh.

She circles back around to you, and you cannot tell if her eyes are simply squinted from the wind or if she’s mad at you for not realizing her call sooner.

You don’t even know what you could do. It’s not like she could hear you through the roar of bullets and arrows and glass shattering, but she only turns and dives after a new target.

You breathe in once before doing the same, shooting one more before a shadow passes above you. You fly upwards, and all of the RDA ships seem to- vanish. Into the thin air, like they were never there at all.

But you can still hear your heartbeats, fast from the battle, see the smoke that sits in the air and smell the fire and ash.

“Y/N!” he shouts, and you dove upward until you’re flying alongside him. But there’s no more fight, at least mot right here.

“Jake!” you gasp, something in your heart warming up after seeing him safe. “What- what happened? Where is everyone?”

He only spares you a glance before looking straight forward again.

You know what he means.

“I-” you start, but what is there to say? Death and defeat stares at you head on.

“My Jake! My Y/N!” Neytiri calls, and you want to believe she’ll emerge from the smoke, but instead, you press the strap around your neck.

“I read you,” Jake says.

“I’m here,” you pant.

It’s silent across the other line for a moment, and you glance over at Jake. But it’s like he won’t let himself feel it, so he stares at the back of Toruk’s head.

“Neytiri!” you shout, unable to take the not knowing.

“Seyzey’s dead,” she breathes. “They are very close. They are many.”

Jake makes a wide circle, leaving you no choice but to follow him.

“Do not attack,” he commands. But Neytiri doesn’t speak. “Do you read me, Neytiri?!”

“Neytiri!” you try, but still the line is empty.

“Fall back now. Get out of there! That’s an order!”

“N-neytiri!” you shout, but you can barely get her name out, everything feeling like too much, like the weight of a thousand lives are tied to your shoulders.

That’s what has gotten you to this moment. A thousand lives, a thousand deaths.

All you can do is bite back your sob, while Jake stays anxiously on the line. You want it all to go back, for life to be like the night that you mated. Where it was just fire and badness but it was good.

“Jake,” Neytiri says, and her voice is coated in disbelief. You want to run into her arms and never leave. You want to return to her, you want her to return to you. “Eywa has heard you.”

For a second, her words mean nothing. Eywa hears everything.

Then, a million echoing screeches can be heard, and when you turn your head- a hundred, a thousand ikran pour out from behind the mountains, from each small hiding place and each crevice. From above and below, from everywhere.

Your heart beats louder than it ever has before. This time, it doesn’t run on fire. It runs on hope, on the belief that it will all return to something better than this.

“Eywa has heard you!”

Jake smiles before clenching his jaw.

“Come on!” he shouts at Toruk, and his eyes meet yours for a half second- “Stay close!”

He flys at an angle, downwards towards the shuttle.

“Go high!” he shouts, and before you can even question what his plan is, he’s jumping from Toruk and onto the metal of the shuttle.

He readies his gun, jumping over the small box that contains snipers, pointing downward and pulling the trigger. They all crumple, and then he drops his gun and runs until he reaches the vents of the engine. He takes the small grenade and pulls the pin, throwing it into the large vent.

He jumps onto Toruk just as the grenade goes off, a watercolor mess of white-hot oranges and reds, tinged with black smoke at the edges.

The two of you circle, watch the shuttle hit the white rock arch leading up to the Spirit tree, losing a wing and making the most horrible sound as it twists in the air, before landing and making your teeth chatter when the fire causes the bombs inside to explode.

More watercolors, more death, but it’s right. It has to be. This has to be the moment, this has to be all that it is and all it will be.

The two of you wrap around another arch, and some feeling in the air tells you to ready another arrow. Jake guides Toruk down, and jumps on the back of the shuttle with a bang even you can hear.

Your breath catches. The colonel must have heard that. Anyone in there must have.

You scream for your ikran to move forward in your head, and it does just as Jake pulls the pins.

You breathe out, go to say a prayer, but before you can even get the first word out the shuttle whips to the side so dramatically he loses his grip and the grenades fall down into the air.

“No!” you gasp, watching chances pour away, and even if it’s a long shot, you move forward while they’re recovering from the swift decision, realize your arrow into the only man you can see in the cockpit.

The glare of the sun almost surrounds him like a halo, blocking out everything else. Your arrow shatters glass and meets flesh.

You breathe out heavily before the air is rocked by another explosion, coming from the ship- one of the grenades must have stuck.

You dont dwell on that, only starting to circle the ship to try and find Jake.

A flash of blue in the air.

You dove downward, cut through the canopy as the leaves and the branches hit you and your ikran.

“Jake! Jake!” you screech, and your ikran slams into the ground harshly. Your bones shake and your heart thuds so loudly you think it will burst out of your chest. “Jake,” you mumble.

“Y/N!” he returns, appearing out from behind some bush.

The world all feels like too much. Too much death and too much life, too much adrenaline and loss. You ikran moans out lowly, shuffling around on her feet. Blood and scratches cover her skin and your own.

You climb down and hold her jaw, mumbling softly words you can barely understand, it’s all too much.

“Why did you do that?” Jake hisses, grabbing your bicep.

“For you,” you mumble stupidly, and his eyes meet yours. He’s angry. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.

But he is off falling from hundreds of feet in the air, barely surviving, yet he asks you this? As if you wouldn’t die for him, as if you weren’t made for him and this moment.

“For you,” you repeat, stronger this time.

A fire flares in his eyes and his jaw clenches.

Then, he’s kissing you.

It feels like every other time you’ve kissed, lips against yours and hands, hands. Feeling. So much feeling you can’t describe it. This is what you were made for, for this moment, for this happiness that barely even is happiness. Where your mind goes blank and everything just focuses onto him.

He pulls away.

“I love you,” he says, simple, like it’s the most truest thing he’s ever said. The most basic fact, just something he was born with.

You look at the yellow of his eyes, the blue of his skin, the green of the plants behind him. It’s watercolor. You want it to stay like this forever, for this to be what your eyes look at.

“I love you,” you say, with watercolor eyes.

—-

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[rosymccheese]

Rising Phoenix Chapter 22.

Tw-Volence, mentions of death, gunfire, complications in birth, graphic birthing process,

18 pages long.

-----

You spent the rest of the day in Mansk arms, you felt no real need to move around much or leave your hut for you were letting yourself to grieve Quaritchs death and the pain your other mates must have felt. You hated how you felt some resentment towards Quaritch for deciding to separate you all and how because of that action he would not be able to meet your child. You laid with Masnk, head on his chest as his arm engulfed you the other his hand rested on your knee completely covering it. You felt his thumb softly trace your knee as you both laid listening to the clan's lifeful sounds from the huts window.

"Do you think the RDA will find us?" You asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

"I do not know. But they will keep trying to find you….And our daughter" He spoked solemnly.

"I do not know what Eywa sees to make me so different." You told him your hand tracing his bare chest tracing his tattoos, he had many on his chest.

Mansk was silent for a while. You almost thought he was asleep before he spoke.

"I think the humanity we know and was raised, the humanity Eywa and the Navi have come to learn about us, are meant to die.That is why Eywa fought us off every chance she had, her immune systems working to fight off a Parasite." He explained and you listened, tanking his words in.

"Perhaps then she found something new, foreign and new and caused by you trying to grow plants… Perhaps she saw something in you to be willing to give humanity a second chance in her way, Pandora's way."

You shifted to look at him.

"How can you be so sure?" You asked looking into his eyes and you saw his ears twitch.

"I believed in many gods y/n. Never once did one go out of their way to show me that they were there like Eywa shows the na'vi and you she's there." You felt his hand cup your cheek softly rubbing it with his thumb.

"I don't know her plans for you, I think only she knows and is trying to keep you on a path, but obstacles are in the way."

You felt a strange comfort by his words, leaning into his hand as you looked at him.

"Thank you Mansk." You watch him give you a warm smile and you want to move back down to rest.

Being with him brought you peace and you liked to enjoy these moments with him…

..if only such moments could last…

Screams sounded around the village, then the gunshots rang through the air. You felt Mansk tense as he moved, sitting up, eyes worrying as they moved down to you.

The smell of smoke began to grow increasingly. You both heard footsteps rushing to your hut and he moved you quickly snatching a gun from his bag he moved you both to cover, the string shells that provided a door swung open and you watched as mansk aimed the gun ready to fire it.

'"Mansk!"' Jake sounded as he entered the building seeing the gun he threw his hand up.

"'Shit don't shoot!"' The older man started causing Mansk to lower the gun and move.

"What is happening?" He said he didn't waste his time trying to speak na'vi, though he could understand it more now he didn't have the luxury of asking not when gunfire was being ranged through the village as there were screams.

"'The RDA is here, Neytiri and Ronal are on the way to take y/n and get to the spirit reef. We need you here to fight."' Jake explained, You saw Mansk ears slick back, the look on his face as he went to refuse you grabbed his hand causing him to look at you.

"Help them and come back to us." You told him and you watched his eyes move to you and your stomach there was fear in his eyes, Not for himself but for you. How they dulled as if he was already preparing for your loss to him. You squeezed his hand.

"I'll be safe, go." You told him, you promised him, you saw the disbelief in his eyes but you saw that he still trusted you. Your Mate turned to Jake and nodded.

Jake moved to Guard the Hut and Mansk helped move you to stay hidden he moved to another bag grabbing another item before placing it in your hands causing your eyes to widen.

"Do you know how to shoot?" He asked you, causing your eyes to snap up into his.

"Yes." You nodded towards him holding the gun shakily in your hands.

Mansk nodded and tapped your hands.

"You kill anyone who ain't them. Promise me y/n." He begged you and you promised him that you would kill.

You felt his lips onto yours before he moved following Jake out, you saw the side of his face as his eye side glanced you, the fear, the worry and the already regret on his face as he moved out, you watched them glide back towards his exit and how his face hardened coming completely emotionless, eyes dulling from life.

Soldier, to a free man, to soldier once more.

Your heart ached for him and you prayed to Eywa to let your mates be truly free from fighting, to let them have happiness and a long fulfilled life.

You listened until you couldn't hear their footsteps anymore and you stayed listening, the screams were heartbreaking just like they were in the forest clans attack.

Only this time you couldn't run on your own.

The smell of smoke grew and grew and you feared how many lost their homes and lives trying to escape. The island never felt hotter as the flames grew closer and closer to you and you gripped the gun tightly.

The distant gun firing echoed in your ears and you crouched down more in your hiding place as you heard footsteps of rushing men in boots.

'Where are Neytiri and Ronal?' You had thought.

Jake had gotten to the hut quickly, and it seemed the fight wasn't near your hut, he sounded sure that Neytiri and Ronal were just behind him. How long has it been? Five minutes? ten? You felt a fear for your friends grow in the pit of your stomach that you felt sick. What if something had happened to them? Both of them were mothers and you knew their kids and mates would be lost without them.

You saw smoke rolling into your window and you felt a sense of dread as you grabbed a cloth tying it around your mouth. Smoking was never a concern around the na'vi; they only smoked during special occasions, not enough where you had to fear second hand smoke for your child but this smoke indicates that the village was on fire and you couldn't put your daughter at risk breathing it in. You held the gun tightly in your hands, your body coating it with sweat as every little sound made you jump with anticipation and anxiety. You heard yelling of Navi and others as the attack seemed to keep going forever, The collapsing of a hut made you jump.

You heard the shell strings jingle and you fired the gun hearing a scream of shock. Looking you saw Kiri holding Tuk in her arms, a panicked look on her face and you felt pure cold fear course through your veins.

'"Get in now!"' You shouted at her and you watched Kiri rush over to hide beside you holding Tuk closely.

'"Why are you here?! Where is your mother?!'" You hissed out in a hushed voice.

'"We waited for her in out hut but the smoke got worse and worst, so i ran here with Tuk."' Kiri quickly answered, holding her younger sister tightly.

You felt panicked as you thought of Neytiri and Ronal. Something must have happened, You knew that Neytiri would have come straight for her daughters and them being with you filled you with fear. You couldn't let them stay here, it would only be a matter of time before the RDA soldiers came in here.

"'Okay. Listen well."' You spoke as you moved to get up. "'We move quickly and quietly use the huts as cover and get to the forest sssssss" You hissed out as a sharp pain shot through your body, You felt the water and blood run down your legs faster than your brain could catch onto what was happening. You almost fell back and you felt Kiri try to help you down.

You felt more panic ensue in your heart as you were realizing what was happening.

The baby was coming.

The village was under attack and set ablaze.

The baby was coming.

Neytiri and Ronal weren't here and you had Kiri and Tuk to watch over.

The baby was coming.

The hut was filled with smoke and two youngsters were breathing it in choking.

The baby was coming.

Your eyes moved panickingly around landing on a larger basket and the hole in the middle of your hut that held a pot over it to gather water.

The baby was coming.

Pain shot through you again causing you to grit your teeth as you forced back a scream of pain, grasping Kiris wrist harshly as you looked at the girl who was panicking.

"'y/n you- Mom she will co-"'

"'Listen. closely."' You hissed out causing the teen and five year olds ears to perk up.

"'Grab that basket and drop into the water through the fetching hole and stay there under the dock."' You told her sternly you squeezed your eyes as another ripple of pain came through you.

"'Go now!"' You snapped at her, causing Kiri to move, grabbing the basket, as she moved down, dropping into the water.

"'Tuk push it in!"' Kiris hushed but panicked voice called and you watched Tuk shove the basket down before she moved to drop down. Her sweet little eyes landing on you with worry.

"'What about you?"' She asked worriedly not wanting to leave you behind.

"'I will stay right here and when i have the baby i'll be right behind you."' You told her "'I promise Tuk."'

You watched as she moved, dropping into the water and you held the cloth closer to your face as the pains grew and grew in your uterus. You moved yourself into a squat, Memories of your Nana always saying the fastest and easiest way to give birth was letting gravity do the work came to you.

The smoke poured in as the heat grew around you causing sweat to pour from you. The gunfire never stopped.

You held back a scream as your body began to start pushing, the contractions were not even serving as warning like you had been told. Your Body was desperately trying to get your daughter out of you in the worst time imaginable.

Footsteps ran by and you held your breath as pain rippled through you, the gun still in your trembling hand as you watched the string of beads.

Blood poured from your legs gushing like a river rushing.

You knew well that you wouldn't be able to fit through the fetching hole even after you give birth to your daughter. That wasn't going to be possible. You could only hope you could push her out of you fast enough to slip her into the basket Kiri held before you were ever seen.

You bit down on your tongues drawing the ironic taste of blood as you felt another ripple of sharp pain as your body pushed and cervix stretched for your daughter's head.

As you tried to keep your focus on the door you fought back your screams and tried not to breathe in smoke.

You felt another ripple of pain and felt something finally becoming free but you felt your body tremble from nausea. You didn't need to look down to know, It wasn't your daughter's head.

You felt an unbearable fear as bile forced its way up your throat, tears leaving your face.

You were breached.

Your daughter was stuck.

War was going outside of your hut and you were struggling to breath and giving birth inside not far from getting shot.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you let out a heart wrenching and painful sob.

"'Eywa if one of us must die, don't let it be my daughter."' You prayed as you sobbed You bit down as your body racked with pain choking on a scream you internally begged for help, for Ronal, Neytiri, Mansk, Anyone who could help you with this birth. You gripped the wall of the hut as you moved your hand to your bleeding out parts trying to push the limb of your daughter back into you, trying to to find her head to turn her around and choked a sob as you realized it was her foot. You wished you had taken norms suggestions about inducing an early birth now as you had no way to turn your daughter correctly. The pressure of your womb felt like it was rupturing.

"'y/n?"' Kiri spoked

"Shhhhhhh!" You hissed towards her as you bit into your hand tears falling. She must stay quiet with Tuk, you couldn't forgive yourself if something happened to them.

Your heart raced as you heard footsteps and eyes trained on the door, your vision spotting as another wave of pain, your body fighting against you to push a breached child out of your body.

You watched as the stringed shells went to move and you fired the gun, The pain increased and you fell back weakly from the fireback of the pistol in your hand.

You heard rushing footsteps towards you and you found yourself struggling to move the gun as you let out a scream of pain, you felt like your lower half was ripping and you sobbed out screams.

Hands moved to your knees spreading them apart as hands moved.

"'Breathe, in and out, like water."' Ronals voice came over your ears and you sobbed with a cry of relief. You felt a strong hand take your right one and you blinked the black spots away to see Tonowari holding your hand tightly.

'"Kiri?! Tuk!"' you could hear the panicing of Neytiri from the outside of the hut and you held back a scream of pain as you felt your insides move.

"'there under the dock."' You whispered out.

"'JAKE! NEYTIRI HERE!"' Tonowari called to your friends and you watched as the two entered in a panic. Neytiri's eyes landed on you and you saw the panic as she rushed over to you. You panted air and kept nodding towards the fetching hole.

"'There."' You said softly as you screamed again from another painful wave of a stuck contraction sobbing out, through tears you saw Jake reaching grabbing his daughters and pulling them back up. Your eyes roamed and you almost felt your heart shatter in panic.

"'Mansk?!"' You asked, your vision spotted as causing you to wither in pain crying out, missing the sound of rushing steps, hands grabbing your left shoulder.

"'What is happening?!"' You heard Mansk speak in panic. "'Shouldn't we take her to the water!?""

Your eyes looked at Ronal who moved bloody hands from your entrance eyes fearfully as she looked at Tonowari.

"'Water will not aid this, only worsen."' Ronal spoked as she looked at Neytiri with that same fear.

Tonowari moved, switching places with his wife. You heard him whisper apologies as his hand moved to your entrance. You let out a cry of pain causing Mansk to hiss towards the Man.

"'The hell are you doing?!"' He snarled, Neytiri held him back, shushing him as she stared at the clan leader worriedly.

Tonowari's ears slicked back as he moved away bloody hands.

"'This child is too big and is stuck, we can not get her to unbound, she is turned the wrong way."' He spoke calmly, he looked into your eyes as he squeezed your hand.

"'No! Yall said she would be fine!"' Mansk snarled, squeezing your shoulder, you could hear fear in his voice, pain and heartbreak.

"'Do something! Anything! I can't lose her! I can't lose them!"' He begged, his voice breaking as he looked at you panicked as you screamed again in pain, he felt helpless, he didn't know what to do or how to fix this, the damned scientists Jakes were allies with were too damn far it would be too late for you and yalls daughter for them.

Tonowari gripped his shoulder, a look on his face as he squeezed.

"'I know a clan. If you fly without pause and if Eywa lends Y/n her strength you can get there before sun sets, These people are no stranger to births like these."' He told him sternly and Mansk nodded, moving to the hut he screamed for his Ikran.

Jake, Tonowari moved picking you up to the Ikran, Mansk slid onto it and he felt clothes wrap around him as the two men tied you to him, He felt weight be added and he turned, seeing Ronal between your legs holding you to his back.

"'I come!"' She told him to turn to look at her mate. "'I go! I will not leave her."'

Her mate only nodded and grabbed Neytiri's shoulder looking at her.

"'Fly where the sun is pointed by your left thumb, keep it there and you soon will smell the fires before you see them.

"'You are sending Neytiri like i am not following."' Jake spoked up but a hand on his shoulder from Tonowari held him in place.

"'You add too many, You are a viperwolf, compared to a thanator to Neytiri. Stay watch over your children."' Tonowari ordered as he looked at them.

"'Go!"'

And Mansk didn't wait for another word as he called for Kilzer to take flight, an arm moving backwards to hold you, trying to comfort even though his own heart froze with fear.

Neytiri's call was sounded and he watched the woman fly ahead of them, her bow equipped and he followed.

"'Y/n, I must press your child back in and slow your bleeding, it will hurt i am sorry."' He heard Ronal tell you and your choke sob made him feel like breaking.

"'Do it!"' You choked out and the ear shattering scream of pain you let out caused his heart to crack, he made the mistake to glance up to see Ronal hand missing between your legs most likely holding your daughter from being pushed out until you got the help you deserved.

Snapping his head to focus on Neytiri eyes stinging with unsheathed tears he Willed, demanded and begged Kilzer to fly faster than he had before in his life and the beast cried out almost in understanding as it began to gain on Neytiri's Ikran.

A ship that had sat at a far distance from the Metkayina clans island waited along small islands. Dr.Kensley waited at a table with a hologram showing the attack on the Clan, She watched as the rest of recombinant soldiers moved through the village shooting clan members and fighting against its savage warriors. She felt sick of glee as she watched her newly reformed soldiers as well. Dr.Augustine's work was a treasure for her study the dynamics of Navi and their Different secondary Sexes and how to use that against them. She had long shortly after the attack on the Omaticaya clan had created traps that emitted your scene through the forest's trees, luring any unmated Alpha, Beta and even Omegas to the traps like moths to light. One lured into the traps she had them tranquilized and then masked like the other recom soldiers under her command. The new Na'vi soldiers she had in her army had put up a great number of fights.

'Had' being the keyword but with more 'influencing' by the masks non stop praying of your pheromones into their faces and a few very forced heats or ruts they succumbed to their feral instincts and fell in line like any other Recom soldier.

She had them stripped of their savaged past for they no longer had no need for any of it.

Hair cut to the RDA's liking.

Uniformed not even forced onto them but ordered.

With your scent working against them, they were easy to train to take Guns and other Weapons to attack other clans and tribes to seek out more and more soldiers for her command.

Though creating a all obeying army had proved to be successful in itself and a very rewarding accomplishment in the higher ups eyes alone, the search for Quaritch and his team of tradiors and for you the RDAs newest gold mine of new DNA of an evolved human species plus a new hybrid species to be born….Proved to be more difficult.

You weren't under the Omaticaya hands like she had expected, making the attack she had enforced on the clan pointless, changing her to thinking that maybe that traitorous bastard Quaritch had indeed taken you with the other recoms as they fled.

It had been her thought process and belief for a while until they began the project of luring second sexed Na'vi by the Manufactured copy of your Pheromones to use are soldiers for a new army for the RDA, an army that could really cause damage towards the people of pandora.

She watched the hologram as the body cams of the recoms showed her everything she needed to see, her eyes looking for the family that had so vanished from their clan so suddenly after the last attack. It brought great suspension that you were actually with them.

The Metkayina clans warriors were fighting back proving some difficulty but she didn't care losing soldiers. Why would she when she can have more masks made and bolted onto newly captured ones? The actual Recombinant soldiers had multiple clones copied and with advancing tech a project that took years can be done within weeks. If she really need them uploaded and 'reborn' then it was an order away.

Her eyes caught onto gun fire attacking back towards her soldiers and her brow furrowed for just a second as she enhanced the body cames view and then a smirk grew on her face as Jake Sully came into view attacking back against her soldiers.

More gunfire came from the Metkayina clan and her eyes caught onto an unusual sight. A Recombinant unmasked and fought back against her soldiers. Dr.Kensley tapped a finger against the table top as she watched this unfold.

"Curious." She muttered and then pressed a button on a remote, bringing it to her face.

"Fall back." She ordered her troop watching them immediately falling back off their advances.

She had indeed found the traitor Jake Sully, only because her scouts picked up on a rogue copter's signal rushing towards this area.

"Your stopping the attack?" her assistant asked, looking at him she chuckled.

"I have a hypothesis so to speak." She stated as she stared at the screen.

The hunt for you was growing more and more important. Dr.Kensley was your personal doctor after all and she knew the date of your conception and exactly when your due date was supposed to be.

You were due to give birth soon.

And the Sullys happen to vanish shortly after Quaritch's unit and you had run.

Dr.Kensley only had to wait for so long before scouters on the ship brought the news of two Ikrans taking off into the sky taking flight to a different direction.

Close up imaging of what the scouters caught showed very promising and yet concerning news.

"Follow them. I want that woman and that child in my medical bay as soon as possible!" She ordered as assistants and workers scrambled to get a move on.

Dr.Kensley moved a smirk on her face as the ship began its chase after the Ikrans.

Her capture of you may just give her the biggest promotion possible.

Miles landed cupcake by the edge of the Pit, he made his way down silently, his eyes staring through the ashy pit, killing animals the Ash people left for the flying beast laid uneaten as he moved towards them. He crouched down between the giant dead animals that had leathery skin, strong six legs that had four large tusks coming from their snouts as two trunks laid sprawled out on the ground. He crouched down and he waited with his ears moving as he listened for sounds of the giant beast. His heart stilling as he prepared himself to take this beast for his own or die trying to take the beast.

Te kitenga whakamutung did not keep him waiting long as the shrieks it echoed into the pit pierced his ears, the Ash and dust the creature's wings lifted from the ground as it landed. Miles listened to each clawing step the beast made as it neared its freshly killed meal, a sacrifice from the Ash clan to keep it from attacking them. Miles' green eyes peered from under a leg of the killed beasts staring at the Purple and blue patterned beast. Being not under the influence of drugs and raw rush of adrenaline the first time when this same beast was persistent in eating his son and mates, he could see exactly how large this creature was.

A creature that had become spoiled with the ash people sacrificing hunts to feed it, to keep it from flying into their open exposed villages and taking Navi men, women and children as its prey.

This creature did not need to hunt, it had been unwarely trained by the people who feared it as much as they respected it to come to this pit as a giant feeding bowl. All its prey was either dead or tied down alive, unable to fight and run from its razored teeth and ending bite.

It was that spoiling and dullness of its surroundings that made the animal cocky and arrogant, It went against its nature ro be a true hunter of the smoky skies, never having to expect its prey to fight back and that had gave the beast a nasty scar on her underbelly from his blade not so long ago.

It seems the beast had about as much caution as it did before and that made it blindsided.

It caused this great predator that caused the Ash people fear for so many generations to succumb as a prey to a new predator. One who had many years of experience of being cautious and waiting patiently for the moment to attack.

Te kitenga whakamutunga soon placed itself by the corpses of the decaying animals hooking claws into it as it dove its head, its large mawl diving into flesh, serrated teeth ripping out meat and tendons with ease.

Miles took one baited breath before moving running he jumped over the creatures wings jumping towards his neck grasping on of the queues yanking the animal back, causing the beasts head to snap back, he dug his foot behind one of the beasts shoulder blades as he pulled causing the beast to shriek. Te kitenga whakamutung slang it's mighty head around to snap at him causing him to twist away, he tried to grab his own queue but the beast moved, rolling dragging him along as it snarled, intending to sling him off as it rolled.

Miles gripped onto the beast's queue tighter as his body was thrown, and smacked as his skin was dragged against the rough and sharp grounds of the pit. The Scratches and small cuts would not deter him as he slid under the beast underbelly once again, hairs away from snapping teeth as the beast let out a screech of remembrance of his blade. He came from the other side using the animals wings and body against it as the beast was so busy moving to snap its jaw at him it lost its footing causing its claws to glide through the ash losing footing. Miles jumped over its side snatching the animal's queue missing claws that swiped from him; he snatched his own braid, tying their queues in a loose knot before slamming them together in a bond.

The beast jerked, failing to drag him as it took off in the air, shrieking in pain as miles body weight was now dangling from its queue. Miles let out a scream of pain as he moved his hands to pull himself by the tied queues grabbing onto the beast that flew slamming into canyon walls to sever the bond. Threatening to rip his own queue to be free of being submitted to have him as a rider. Hissing in pain, teeth clenching he wrapped his hands around the Purple and blue Queue of te kitenga whakamutunga and pulled himself using the beast's queue like a rope, arms straining to pull his body weight. The beast snapped his head to bite, a bite that could easily snap him in half and Miles snarled back at the beast.

Te kitenga whakamutunga dived, the wind blowing harshly against his body as she dived towards the canyon floor planning to crash and sling him off. He moved, digging his foot into her back as he pulled against her queue, he snarled as he leaned back as he descended towards the ground.

"QUIT YOUR BITCHING AND FLY STEADY!" he snarled and the beast stopped mid snap of its jaws in a screech.

The beast wings snapped open causing pockets of air to build under wings snapping her back high into the sky causing him to fall against her back harshly, his nails digging into scales keeping him on her back.

The slamming into the cliffs stopped and Miles was able to use its neck to hoist himself onto the flying beast. Falling into place alongside the beast his chest heaved his heart pounding and his ears twitched. His heart sounded as if it was to explode, its lungs taking in too much air and it had concerned him, his ears perked to a call of the beast he was on and he paused.

Taking a deep breath in and releasing it steady Miles found his eyes closing, he could still see the world around him but no longer from his two eyes but from four eyes that searched the sky in different directions, a wider span of sight in his mind.

He felt the strong boomin beats of te kitenga whakamutunga's heart, as if it was his own heart that rang in his chest.

Each breathes larger and full as it empty like the floating flames of fire releasing into the air.

The wind blew over the scales and his hair as the sky had no limits for the both of them.

Miles could feel the beast's wings like outstretched arms, tips of wings like the tips of his fingers.

The powerful snap of her jaws as if her bite was one of his own, strong enough to ripe limbs cleanly off their victims.

She would not fight him, and Miles led her land on a clift of a canyon.

He moved from her not disconnecting their queues as he glided his hand along her neck grabbing at the crest above her eyes he stared into the bright magenta eyes, his green ones met with hers, he listened to her hiss, feeling her throat rumble with it as he moved his hand down to her bottom jaw.

He had respect for this giant and whether she begrudgingly accepted him as her rider he felt a sense of respect towards him as well.

"Yeah that's right." He spoke to her as he moved his under her chin feeling the softer scales underneath, "I am your rider." He spoked towards the beast and he moved to climb back onto her A breath leaving him one he hadn't known he had been holding and he felt a rumble move through her as he sat perched on her. Running a hand from his hair detangling it he thought of the looks that would appear on his mates faces. He thought of what he must do to take care of The RDA.

He thought about you, his dream hunt left an unsettled feeling in his gut, how he heard the cries of a new born child and smelled blood that he instinctively knew was of you unsettled him. The sooner he could build an army to go against the RDA the sooner he could get back to you and the pack's first born child. He missed you and he knew the others missed you as well, they had made small gifts to give you once you all could be reunited and even made things for the unborn child in your womb.

Time was ticking and soon that child would be breathing air and screaming its first breaths and Quaritch felt unsettled about not being there for you.

Te kitenga whakamutunga made a noise from under him and he saw in his mind a great nest hidden away deep within the Canon where eggs lay, Miles moved his hand alongside of her scales understanding why she showed him this. She knew the need to protect one's nest, ones young and family.

Te kitenga whakamutunga had lost her mate shortly after a mating season due to a rival male, she had reigned over the fight but her mate had wounds that left him weak and he passed shortly from the fight leaving her to protect the nest alone.

Attacks on the clan were out of desperation for quick meals to get back to the nest to protect her most precious current purpose in her life.

Miles let out a breath as he moved his hand alongside scales.

"'I will not keep you from them long,"' He told Te kitenga whakamutunga. "'If there is a way to seal the nest i will help doing so keeping your kin safe."'

The great beast let out another rumble from her mawl as her wings outstretched and lifted them into the air, wind biting through his hair as he watched the world through not only his eyes but through the great beasts eyes as the flew through canyons down into deep warm caverns where lava dripped down into deeper parts of Pandora's underground, glowing flauana clinging to the walls as they flew through spiked rocky twists and turns before Te kitenga whakamutunga landed on a perch, allowing him to slide off and walk into a large crevice of the perches wall. There was a nest made from dead trees, bones of long eaten prey, The beast's dead skeleton laid outside of the nest menacing as he moved climbing upwards in the middle were large eggs, he moved carefully towards one placing a hand onto its shell.

Te kitenga whakamutunga hissed in warning, which caused his ears to twitch, his tail flexing with alertness. He moved his hand away from the egg and his ears twitched as The beast let out a call, a lowly rumbly call which caused movement from the eggs as the beasts inside of them started to illuminate from their mothers call. They were curled in their shelled sacks each the size of a big Ikran. Future deadly predators of this land grew as they developed, waiting for the day it was time for them to hatch.

Miles moved away facing the giant flying beast as he made his way towards her holding out a hand to the beast moved it on top of her mawl as he moved to her right side looking into her eyes.

An inferno of Magenta meeting blazing green, no words needed to be spoken, a silent promise to each other to unite and protect each other's families rang clear in each other's minds.

Miles helps seal the entrance by dragging large boulders to seal the caves opening keeping the eggs safe in the dampen but warm cave. Te kitenga whakamutunga Aided by using her large head to push them in better place and once the entrance was sealed he moved climbing up on the giant beast he connected their queues guiding the giant to take flight once again into the air and fly away from the underground caverns in the canyons.

Enya watched as she tried to intervene and her clan had gone ignored. Miles' pack had only had just a few hours where some of the members watched Miles' painful death and failed dream hunt while others were just told of his death and still processing the loss of Their mate and Alpha. Their son is also processing and grieving the loss of his father before unmated Alphas of her clan took this as an advance opportunity to attack the members of the pack.

To stake claim to the Betas and Omega.

Some even going as far to attack the pack's child to fully erase all attachments to Miles.

If those alphas were expecting an easy claim they had gotten a face full of slashes, blades ripping through skin as each one of the pack's members bared teeth.

Zdog, Lyle, Brown, and Fitch had formed a protective circle around Spider keeping him safe from attackers as they hissed and snarled back at their attackers.

Enya moved to help aid them from the attacks with a few of her most loyal warriors and her future mate. Though reasoning would fall on deaf ears, words had no place for feral instincts.

A shriek of ikrans seemed to provide a distraction for the clan as two of them landed vigorously in the middle of the chaos.

Enya's nose twitched at the smell of blood, She watched as the pack's emotions changed before they pushed through to the Ikrans quickly. Zdog pulled spider along, keeping him still protected and they quickly circled the ikran.

A forest navi woman hissed at unmated alphas who had turned their attention to the ikrans and began to charge towards them. Her bow is armed and ready to shoot and take lives.

Enya moved towards the ikrans, the smell of blood was concerning more than the outsiders. Her eyes caught on to not only a forest Navi, But also a Water Na'vi and another alien Na'vi that seemed to be of the species of Quaritchs pack. There between the water and the man was an alien woman like spider. This woman was bleeding profusely between her legs and her swollen stomach was all Enya needed to know as she made pace. The alien Na'vi on the ikran hissed at the other pack members, he seemed to be an alpha that was stung high on the stress of his mate's difficult labor. But seeing as how the other pack members hissed back just as protective and in concern as they looked at you most worryingly she had no doubt that You were the Pack Mother of their pack.

"'We come for help!"' The Water Na'vi woman spoke, from her clothing it was no question to know she was a Tsahik of her clan.

"Mansk?" Lyles voice spoke in that strange tongue the pack could speak, The high strung Alpha on the ikran seemed to immediately relax sliding off the ikran and greeting Lyle.

"She's breached. " The man spoke and Brown shoved past them both quickly making way to the alien woman.

The water Navi hissed in warning but the Forrest one came to stop her.

"'He's one of her mates, it is safe."' The wan spoke and the Water Tsahik moved, allowing Brown to take you in his arms. His hand moved to your neck, checking for your heart and his slicked back as your body seemed to tremble in his arms, your eyes seemed to snap open and you grabbed onto him as a cry of pain racked your voice.

"Brown?" Your voice just whimpers.

Brown held you closer, he seemed to mutter something to you as he started to move quickly, his eyes meeting her own, and Eyna commanded her clan to move back immediately, Clan members and the pack members fought to shove alphas away.

Other healers rush to help get Brown and you from the chaos and into a safe area to assist you in your labor.

It seemed to be almost impossible as the Alphas were going crazed under your scent, regardless if you were claimed or not, the smell of your labor triggering their desperate need to take what's not theirs for their own.

A loud booming screech caused the clan to freeze. Their eyes wiping upwards to the smokey ashen sky as they saw Te kitenga whakamutunga wings outstretched in the crowning sun's light above the volcano that was centered in their village. The beasts Purple and Blue patterns burned like the greatest embers of the land as it dived down towards the clan causing the people to move and scatter.

Neytiri steadied her bow ready and noticed your mates grabbing weapons as well ready to protect you at all costs.

Ronal was tending to you in the arms of Brown her worried eyes stared at the beast fearfully as it dived down towards the clan.

Enya's breath hitched, the beast hasn't bothered the clan in generations since they had been sacrificing hunts to see it coming now of all times and struck fear into her and her clan, yet it didn't feel as if it came on a hunt, for bloodshed as it used to.

The beast landed and The clans eyes were able to catch on a figure who stood on it.

Their eyes widened as the Alpha who was deemed dead from a failed dream hunt stood on the beast. Curls moving from the air moved by Te kitenga whakamutunga large wings and Blazing emerald eyes burning through the crowd, a great fury in them as his face drew back into a menacing snarl ears slicking back.

"'BACK AWAY FROM MY MATES!"' His voice boomed and the beast let out a terrifying shriek causing the clan to quickly scramble away from the man's mates.

From Toruk Makto of The Tangata ahi Clan, mates.

Toruk Makto moved from his mighty beast, disconnecting his queue as he moved through the clan, a new sense of fear and awe in them as they moved away from him.

His blazing green eyes on his pack and the Ikrans as he moved with haste.

He could smell you, and something else, and blood.

But in that moment, Miles could only smell blood that burned into his nose but he knew, it was yours and it terrified him to his core as he made it towards his pack, he could see the shock on their faces but he didn't have time to comfort them and assure them as he pushed past Lyle, Zdog and Fitch moving towards Brown. His eyes caught onto Neytiri, a slight sense of fear came from him but he ignored it. The view of a different species of a Na'vi woman caught his attention for just a second as Neytiri moved her from Brown.

You.

You came to his view and his heart seized with a new fear as he rushed towards Brown.

You looked so frail in his arms, skin paling as blood dripped down to the ground pooling in the ash.

Brown's worried face did not ease the fear Miles felt in his heart as he grasped your dangling hand in his looking to Brown for answers.

"'She's breached and going into shock, we don't have much time!"' Brown explained and Miles turned looking towards Eyna, he could see the look in her eye and knew there would be much to discuss later but it would have to wait.

"'I need the nearest hut cleared."' He demanded and Eyna turned yelling to the clan as a path was made and a hut was emptied of its family.

Miles helped Brown and the healers inside of it moving to your side as they laid you down.

Brown moved between your legs, his hand moving to your entrance as he pulled what limb was nearest, His ears slickened back as he looked up at the healers.

"'Its a foot."' He spoke.

Miles' nose twitched and an instinctive growl left him as his body tensed up at a smell of another alpha entering the hut. His eyes snapped up to see him, he would kill him if he challenged him.

Though the man's ears drooped back and instead of puffing up to seem bigger he submitted down.

"Quaritch." The familiar voice came to him and Miles paused, he knew that other smell.

It was Mansk and Your scent was over him as his was over yours.

Miles didn't feel betrayal or anger at you claiming another Alpha to be in your pack or you allowing the other Alpha to mark you, he felt a sense of great relief because he understood that Mansk had kept you and their child safe.

"Mansk." He greeted nodding for him to come over to the pack, his other pack mates.

Lyle looked between them, he wanted to be by your side but now with Masnk being a second alpha to the back, it was his right to be by your side. But Mansk moved to him with a hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Mansk questioned him, almost in slight irritation. "She needs you, stop staring at me and go to her."

It was all Mansk needed to say before the Beta was on your otherside.

Your eyes had opened again looking into theres and tears fell as you saw them.

"Quaritch? ..Lyle??"

They both hushed you softly, hands moving on your shoulders as they tried to comfort the fear in your eyes.

"'We need her on her knees."' Brown spoked looking up towards his mates.

Miles and Lyle nodded and moved to help move you and you let out a wrenching scream of pain, more blood gushing from you as they moved you and you cried.

Brown felt immense guilt but he shoved it down as he had to move your legs wider apart.

He feared many things at this moment.

You go into the worst shock and slip into an unwaking unconsciousness.

You could tear harshly.

The baby was not vital when he did get them out of you.

Losing both of you just as the pack got you back.

He stilled his nerves, breathing out a shaky breath as he moved his hands to you, he grasped the first foot and hooked his fingers inside of out searching for the second foot, once he found it he wrapped his finger around pulling it out to where he saw both feet.

"Y/n…i need you to push as hard as you can." He told you, he tried to steal his voice but even if it sounded calm he could hear his own anxiety in it.

He saw you shake your head as a sob broke from you.

"I cant!" You sobbed your body trembling with exhaustion, The layers of sweat and blood coated on your body and He knew you were in this labor for hours just bleeding even if it was slowed by the Woman who sat behind you. Your body had no energy, it was tired and wanted rest, you were being completely held up by Miles and Lyle and the healers around you.

Enya moved by his side, her hands moving along your back pressing on it gently.

'"We just need three."'She spoke before looking up at Miles.

"You must, you can." Miles whispered in your ear, his hand moving on your arm gently.

"Just three pushes all together.'' His words seemed to cause you to relax just for a moment until an ear piercing scream left you, he saw your body tremble as you pushed.

His eyes focused on the feet as he carefully helped by pulling them as well to ease the energy you were forcing your over exhausted body to give.

It went from ankles to knees to hips, to waist. His hand held them down gently.

Enya moved her hand down your back some and looked at him with a nod.

"Okay y/n, another push." He softly told you and His ears listened to Lyles words of encouragement to you as you sobbed in pain and exhaustion.

"Breathe in slowly and out." Miles softly lectured you as you were gasping for air, Your chest moved as you took in a slow breath of air and it deflated as you let it out. Sobs leaving you as you let out a whimper before screaming through the sounds of gritted teeth.

Brown guided the baby down, moving his fingers back inside of you to hook around the child's shoulders carefully maneuvering them out of you. Enya held the child's lower half as he worked on getting the child's left shoulder and arm free, your noises of pain caused his chest to squeeze with guilt as he was trying to be gentle.

Once the arm was free came the most nerve wracking and horrific part. He took a breath and moved, letting go of the child.

"Okay y/n, Whatever you do, Do not push." He stressed towards you glancing at Enya he nodded and watched as she removed her hand.

He could hear a gasp from behind him but he focused on moving his fingers back inside of you, fingers bracing the child's neck as the entire body dangled down.

He found the child's chin and he moved his other hand grabbing the child's chest as he began to turn the child, Her back chest no longer facing him. Moving her slowly as carefully as he could, if he allowed her to come out the way she was, chest up, her neck would snap against your pelvis bone when being pushed out.

The child needed to be backed up towards him, the process wasn't fast as he had to carefully turn the child as well as keeping her dangling entirely from your body.

The scene was horrific to anyone who hasn't seen a breached child as this born. But he had some experience with helping other Mothers give birth, those this particular breech he only had two other instances. One he was the wachee of the birth and the second one he was the delivery of the birth.

Once Brown got yalls child in place he removed his hands entirely from you and the child only bracing underneath to catch her with Enya.

The child completely dangled from you by her neck.

"Okay, push as slow as you can y/n" He told you and your sobs seemed to increase.

You seemed to be clawing at Lyle and Miles and you cursed them as you sobbed.

The other woman you had come with moved to you, taking your face in her hands she softly spoke.

"'I am here with you and soon your daughter will be on your chest full of life."' She assured you, promised you and you cried in her hands.

You let out another cry of pain and sobs as you slowly stressed your body to push as slowly as possible.

Brown watched as you pushed the child out, even as slowly he told you to push the gravity was already doing most of the work, soon the child fell from you and right into his and Eynas ever waiting hands.

He moved his hand on the child's back, rubbing it, stimulating the child as Enya's finger went to unclog the child's mouth.

His ears started to droop back as the child made no cry or movement, a fear taking him as he rubbed the child's back faster.

There was a shake in the ground causing all to slightly stumble as the rippling sound of a rumble came from the volcano.

The air instantly warmed even more and the smell of smoke and fresh sulfur grew stronger. Smoke soon seeped into the Hut, as there was no doubt that mire fires were growing from the spewing volcano's mouth.

And with another loud rumble and shake of the ground below them,

a shrill cry and sob.

Relief.

Came into him and in the others faces as the baby girl in his hands started to cry and sob, being born with the rebirthing flames of these ashen lands.

Brown moved the child seeing the face of the pack's first daughter. Her small tail wrapped around his wrist as he looked down at her.

She was so small in his embrace and yet he knew she was much larger than a human child. He looked up to Miles and Lyle moving their daughter into Miles arms as Lyle moved to hold you up.

The little girl looked so small in his arms, immediately curling up as she let out small sobs already working and clearing her lungs from the fluid of the womb.

Brown helped deliver your placenta which fell into a bowl Enya held under you and she moved to go clean it.

Like some humans, The navi woman however always ate the placenta after birth, it provided the body energy and nutrients it needed and resupplied them.

Brown wasn't sure if you would want to follow this cultural tradition but if you did he would cook it in a rich broth. For now you would need a rich bone broth and He moved to tell Fitch to gather the ingredients.

The healers moved you to lay on your back and Zdog came to you with a bowl of warmed water and a cloth she sat on her knees as she dragged the cloth over your exhausted body cleaning it from the layers of sweat and dried blood that caked onto your skin.

She looked at your tired eyes as you looked upwards to Miles and Lyle.

Her own eyes moving to yalls child, yalls little one.

'"How is she?"' You softly asked as you looked up at them.

"'She's perfect."' Miles spoked his eyes not leaving your daughter.

Zdog watched you smile before your eyes fluttered closed, slumber taking you quickly.

Miles stared down at the little girl in his arms, She almost looked full navi having the facial features, but her ears were not tipped like navi, more rounded like a humans. Her nose still shaped more like a Navi had a more pronounced tip softly pointing upwards as it took the cat-like shape. She was not fully blue like Him or Lyle, she had your skin tone but was decorated delicately with blue stripes on her body.

The child stopped crying softly curling in his arms four fingers and a thumb curling around her tail as it curled up to her chest.

She had an adorable tail but didn't have a Queue and in the dark cave her speckles softly illuminated and glowed with his own.

"'She doesn't have a queue like the mother. They can not have Tsaheylu."' Enya spoked and the other two women Neytiri and Ronal made a noise.

The water Navi moved,

"'Eywa has blessed this mother, you do not know of her."' She spoke as she looked at miles making a gesture for the child.

He felt protective, tense and not wanting to hand his daughter over, but he saw the clothes of a Tsahik and reluctantly moved his daughter into her arms.

Ronal held your daughter softly looking down at her with care and pride as she looked at you with pride.

She placed your daughter down onto your chest, the leaves amongst it had gone from wilting too strong and bright, the luminescent glow brighter in them.

Ronal moved to your hair pulling your braid with the wrapped vine braided into place and brought the bottom of it to the child's neck, The vines root like Queues attached and started to grow as it latched onto the child.

You made a soft noise moving your hands and arms against your child holding her and embracing her. Ronal helped move you to your side as you held your sleeping daughter to your chest, your hand softly playing in the baby's soft wet mop of curls. She moved and she watched as your mates moved around you.

A sound coming from the entrance as a child human came walking in.

"'Spider."' Neytiri spoke as she recognized the child and he looked at her and waved.

"'Spider come."' Miles spoke, calling his son over, Spider walked and he was brought down to sit beside his father, his eyes landing on a child in the woman's arms.

"'This is your sister.."' His father told him and the spider looked at the infant with love, he had no envy towards her being mostly na'vi being something he always dreamed of being. No Spider held nothing of the sort but love and pure excitement for his little sister.

'"Whats her name?"' He asked eagerly wanting to know his siblings name and there was silence.

'"Jacinta."' A voice spoke up.

The pack looked over towards masnk who had kept a distance, yet there was a loving and longing look in his eyes.

'"Y/n named yalls daughter, Jacinta."' He softly spoke.

"'Our daughter."' Zdog spoke looking at him.

"'You are her mate as well, you are ours too, don't you say yalls when she's Ours."' She spoke strongly and moved, grabbing him and pulling him over to you, with them.

"'Come see Our daughter."' She sternly told him.

Mansk moved softly startled at first but taking a place he looked at you lovingly and the little girl in your arms, he moved a hand to softly trace the baby girl's cheek watching her softly twitch and nuzzle into your chest more.

"'Hey little ja."' He softly whispered to himself.

"'Little ja? Ja will have a field trip with that!"' Brown had spoked up causing his ears to slick back. "'Where is he? Your here so is he?"'

"'He would've…He's gone Brown..He died

…again.. a while ago."'

There was a silence for a while as the pack took in that information, the thought of their other unit mates being brought back to life and possibly killed had not come across their minds.

"'Sorry."' Brown softly muttered and Mansk shook his head.

"'She's beautiful..Like her mother."' He spoked changing the subject.

Miles moved, choosing to lay down beside you, his hand tracing your face and hair, soon he saw Lyle laying on your other side and soon the others in the pack moved to lay down around you and them, using each other as pillows and what not.

Spider moved laying using his shoulder as a pillow as everyone felt the peace fill the hut.

Neytiri and The other woman left with the healers and Eyna allowing the pack to have some much needed privacy.

You were in the field from the first time you were out in Pandoras it was littered in flowers and you sat amongst them humming as you held your daughter to your chest, you had so much love for your little stranger.

You moved softly rocking your daughter as you hummed an old lullaby your nana had once sang to you when you were young.

"She's beautiful." You moved your head up, feeling your heart room as you saw your nana in front of you warm eyes looking down.

"Thank you." You told her as you moved your daughter softly

"Do you wish to hold her?" You asked and your nana softly nodded, taking your daughter from you, embracing her in her arms. Staring down at her softly and yet lovingly. You smiled as you watched her, enjoying the fresh spring air as you felt peace take you.

"Such a strange little thing." Your nana had joked as she moved a hand through your daughter's hair and you smiled looking up at the woman.

"Thank you, for letting her live great mother." You softly thanked the woman and watched as she looked up her eyes no longer the color of your nanas but a bright vibrant green like her forests, a bright blue of her waters , grays swirled of the unknown and red as fires

"I told you, my child, that I will always be by your side." She said with a smile in your nanas voice before she handed you back your daughter.

"Rest in the peace you are given, for great danger comes." Eywa warned you with a stern hand on your shoulder.

"The smoke I provided will only hide you all for so long."

---

Baby Jacinta "Lil Ja"

--

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[rosymccheese]

Keep Me Ablaze

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of war, grief, swearing, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty Two- Keep Me Ablaze

—-

Y/N,

I do not know you, and maybe I never will. I want nothing more than to be there for you, then to hold you, wipe away your tears- but I count the days like I count each cruel act the world exacts on me. I don’t know you, but I know that you have a piece of something better in you. I don’t know if it’s perhaps a little bit of kindness, or some sort of fire, but I know that you have it and I know that it will help you. You are the best thing I ever did, making you, and I made you perfect, so don’t change what I made. Grow whatever goodness, whatever something better that lies inside of you and know that you will beat this world, my sweet girl. I do not know you, but I love you. I love you.

-Josephine

—-

Grace doesn’t need her mask. Not anymore.

The realization comes fast and quick like a tidal wave, bringing forth a sea of emotions. You want to scream and cry, curl up into a ball and let the storm pass over you. You want to feel better, to jump into the next calm sea, skip this part.

Instead, you watch the reflection of the Spirit Tree in the glass part of her mask. It looks better like this, from above, a mess of colors like an artist took a paintbrush and just said “fuck it.”

Jake stands slowly, his shoulders sagging downwards, arms hanging limp like he holds the weight of her death in his hands. You know he doesn’t. You know he holds your life in his hands, seeing as he’s saved you so many times, and you know he holds the weight of the Omaticaya in his hands.

It is him who can save them, save you, save everything. Neytiri has always been your savior but Jake is the savior of something more.

Neytiri places a hand on your shoulder, and you can barely even feel it, like all of the world is gone. When you don’t move, feeling too unreal, out of your body, her fingers move to wrap around your arm. Another move, another wait for a reaction, for you to break and burn and do whatever you must do. But you don’t.

She takes you into her arms and you still don’t cry, and your chest swirls around too much, a tightness everywhere, but it’s like you can’t even decide what emotion to feel.

You look up at Jake from where you rest your head on Neytiri’s shoulder. You can feel how tight she grips you, like she’s watching you fall and she’s grabbing onto to you, watching you slip. But you don’t slip. You don’t.

Jake’s eyes meet yours through all of it, like an anchor, a lighthouse, because you feel like a ship lost at sea and you need them to bring you home again. Bring you back to them.

Jake swallows. There are a million words on your tongue.

Fix it. Take this pain away. Do something. Make it better. Get me my revenge.

He turns to Tsu’tey.

“With your permission, I will speak now,” he rasps. “You would honor me by translating.”

You watch his back, his braids swing from the movement before falling into place. You watch his queue wave in the wind.

Tsu’tey nods his head forward, eyes closing for just a moment.

“What is he doing?” and it takes you a second to realize the voice is your own. Neytiri kisses the side of your head.

“He is Toruk Makto, my love.”

“The Sky People have sent us a message,” Jake starts, as you realize what he must have done. Why it took him so long to come back for Grace- because he was proving himself to the clan. Because he was becoming the savior you have always know he is.

Tsu’tey’s voice echos him, words in Na’vi that The People hang onto like it is a rope above a chasm.

“That they can take whatever they want and no one can stop them. Well, we will send them a message.” He sways on his feet, like he is ready at any moment to face a whole army. “You ride out as fast as the wind can carry you.”

The People start to stand, whispers floating through the crowd, and Neytiri’s arms fall loose around you, like she is seeing the world in a whole new light- but better for it.

“You tell the other clans to come.” Shouts of encouragement rent the air. “You tell them Toruk Makto calls to them.” He points from himself to the wind, like he can command it all with just one movement, like he is the king and he knows he will rule. “And now you fly with me! My brothers! Sisters! And we will show the Sky People that they cannot take whatever they want, and that this, this our land!”

It is like Jake has taken the world into his hands and breathed life into it, like he has taken the flames and the hearts of The People and kept them ablaze. He keeps you ablaze.

Neytiri helps you to stand, because even though the world is forever changed by him, it will always be marred by Grace. You carry the scars of graves on you like the soil does.

She places her hands on your shoulders, and you blink away tears you didn’t know were still there, a moment longer before you find the strength to meet her eyes.

“I was scared,” she whispers. If you did not know her like you do, you would say she is lying. “For you. For my people. I’m not anymore.”

Her name is on the tip of your tongue, but memories sting and nothing in this moment feels quite right. You want to tell her what you need, you want her to help you- but you do not know what you need. You do not know if you even can be helped.

Her face breaks out into the most loving smile, and she leans forward quickly, pecking your nose like she did all those nights ago when you were still just friends. The sounds of the people cheering fade to nothing.

“We will avenge her, my Y/N, we will-” she goes to say more, but you silence her by pressing your lips to hers. It’s sweet and short, because the world comes back the closer you are to her, the more she keeps you ablaze and keeps you alive, and the rising crowd distracts you.

“I See you,” you whisper, and your voice breaks with the emotion you pour into it. She looks down for a moment and breathes in heavily.

Jake turns towards the two of you, chest heaving from his speech and the emotion and the loss, but he must feel something in the air, see something in your faces, so he doesn’t say anything.

Neytiri looks back up to your eyes, breathes in deeply and grabs Jake’s hand.

“I know- I know that you are hurting, I know how it feels- but do not let yourself think you will burn out. We will keep you ablaze.”

“You will-” the words feel foreign on your tongue, but you know the weight they carry with them. “Keep me ablaze?”

“We will keep you ablaze.” But it’s not Neytiri who speaks, it’s Jake, and they are your saviors and everything you have ever wished for. He stares so deeply into your eyes, and you have never felt the meaning of the phrase “I See you” more than you do now, with their eyes on you like this. “Come,” he whispers, and calls out into the air like Neytiri taught you.

He grabs your hand and Neytiri grabs your other, and the soft moss makes you sink into the ground with each step, but you don’t stop. You move forward, and Toruk lands in front of you with a mighty roar, shaking the ground.

It doesn’t hurt to leave Grace’s body behind. You understand now that she is with Eywa- that your mother is with Her, your father. And Eywa is everything- so they are everywhere.

They are the air you breathe, the clothes you wear, the water you drink. They are the around beneath your feet and they are you.

It is easy to leave her behind, to leave your sadness behind, to fly forward into the fire. You can do what she said. You can follow the fire.

Jake’s hand drops from yours, and he jumps up to Toruk, sitting and making shahaylu. Neytiri holds you back for a moment, before her hand drops and you suddenly run forward up his extended wing, and the memories of him chasing you flare in your mind.

But Jake is there. Neytiri is there.

Jake’s hand meets yours midair, and he pulls you up the rest of the way, so you can wrap your arms around his waist and lean forward, feel the heat that rolls off his back. Is it anger? Excitement?

Neytiri climbs on behind you, wrapping around you herself, and when she leans forward- you still feel that same heat.

You do not care what is it. Maybe it is a speck of sun, a stray piece of a star. You just know they love you, they see you, feel you, know you.

You just know they will keep you ablaze.

—-

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[rosymccheese]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | NEXT (wip) pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable. 

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock. 

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact. 

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade. 

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now. 

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand. 

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada. 

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada. 

So dada started making you little trinkets. 

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating. 

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task. 

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.” 

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.” 

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!” 

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected. 

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers. 

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.  

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on. 

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper. 

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much. 

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that. 

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing. 

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face. 

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!” 

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock. 

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement. 

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted. 

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.  

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that. 

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face. 

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one. 

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes. 

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions. 

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him. 

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter. 

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray. 

A rustle from above. 

“Attack him!” 

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes. 

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing? 

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word. 

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ. 

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.” 

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!” 

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it. 

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood. 

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake. 

She did. 

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.  

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic. 

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul. 

But she was wrong. 

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language. 

Losing. It was all about losing. 

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love. 

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together. 

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.  

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses. 

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.) 

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen. 

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…” 

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip. 

You had gone slack in his arms. 

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple. 

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day. 

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other. 

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back. 

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time. 

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap. 

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort. 

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface. 

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass. 

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there. 

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action. 

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again. 

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.  

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you. 

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right. 

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough. 

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision. 

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing? 

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family. 

You had died in his arms. 

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.  

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind. 

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless. 

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?” 

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood. 

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out. 

His daughter’s blood, on his hands. 

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!” 

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides. 

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake.  “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!” 

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings. 

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name. 

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…” 

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!” 

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister. 

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively. 

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate. 

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty. 

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy. 

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart. 

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake. 

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do. 

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails. 

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon. 

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still. 

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng. 

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once. 

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well.  “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children. 

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful. 

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed. 

It would never fly again. 

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.” 

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be. 

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one. 

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain. 

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman. 

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

@thotd-f1 @httpjiikook @nipoxe @fussel9913 @gloryekaterina @nxptury @thesheelfsworld @heyyitsmaiaa @anyasullyyy @rey26 @in-luvais @em-100 @n7cje @kpopslur @holysaladapricothero @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @maviee @grxcisxhy-wp @me-marilm @n39ro-chann

[rosymccheese]

‘Aw

Synopsis: Upon arriving in Awa'atlu, Jake and Neytiri find a piece of them that had been missing in the sister of the Olo'eyktan of the Metkayina clan

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: This is my first time writing for female reader. I'll try my best, but I apologize if I mess something up. I did choose a skin tone for the reader because I've been daydreaming about this fic for a while. If you don't like that then I apologize. Also, this kind of switches POV’s quite a lot. I just want to make sure everyone’s reaction and feelings can be seen.

Also, don’t be a silent reader! Likes, comments, and we blogs are much appreciated!

Inspired By @star-girl69

(Y/n) had lived within the safe reefs of Awa'atlu since the day that she was found and despite looking completely different from her brother, the clan and his parents welcomed her with open arms. They treated her as if she was exactly like them. They were family to her, and they made sure that she felt like she belonged in the clan, which (Y/n) was grateful for. However, for some odd reason, she felt like you she wasn't whole. (Y/n) was happy being

in the clan, she really was because she felt like there was no reason to be unhappy when she had such a beautiful family.

in the clan, she really was because she felt like there was no reason to be unhappy when she had such a beautiful family.

in the clan, she really was because she felt like there was no reason to be unhappy when she had such a beautiful family.

in the clan, she really was because she felt like there was no reason to be unhappy when she had such a beautiful family.

in the clan, she really was because she felt like there was no reason to be unhappy when she had such a beautiful family.

In the reef, (Y/n) was safe. She didn't have any conflict, she was safe from the war that was raging on outside of her home. (Y/n) didn't know much of what went on beyond the reef due to her older brother only letting her in on the most tame off information in order to not worry her.

(Y/n) was extremely curious as a child and that transferred into her adult years. She had always wanted to venture beyond their land to see what was out there and to meet Na'vi from all walks of life.

She still felt that way as a twenty-three year old. The only difference between when she was a child and now is the fact that she only wants to search for whatever the thing was that made her feel empty and alone.

Fortunately, she didn't have to go anywhere or wait for long.

Jake and Neytiri were a happy couple. They had all that they needed and more as long as they had each other and their kids. Jake never thought he could be as happy as he used to be when his twin was alive, but now that he's Toruk Makto and the Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya clan and has not only a gorgeous mate, but four beautiful children, he sees that he was wrong.

He's his happiest with his family.

Until the Sky people came back.

After everything that had done to keep Pandora safe from the humans who wanted to take the planet for themselves, they came back. However, they were focused on hurting Jake and his family. He was still happy seeing as all of his family except Spider were safe and unharmed.

Meeting a new clan and asking for help was a new experience for the whole family. Especially since they seemed to dislike the Sully's due to them being half Na'vi half dreamwalker, but the dislike words them didn't worry Jake. He only wanted his family safe. No matter what.

Now, the funny thing about Eywa was that she worked in mysterious ways. No one knew what she had planned for everyone and everything under her care, but they knew that if something were to happen, it's because she wanted it to happen and they couldn't do anything about it. Whether it was taking someone at a young age or granting blessings, they could only take it in stride and deal with what they were given.

Jake and Neytiri were brought together by Eywa. She destined for them to meet and fall in love, but despite having the best mate they could ever want and the most wonderful family they could've ever asked for, they didn't feel as if they were complete. Even the kids felt it and it confused the family greatly because what else could they be missing and where would it be?

Fortunately, they would find out soon.

Y/n sat in the water with her niece, Tsireya, tending to the ilu when the sounds of the people gathering onto the beach and the conch shell being blown got their attention. “What’s going on over there?” Y/n asked, squinting at the crowd that kept growing “I think we have done new people. I saw them flying above the beach before landing.” Tsireya said.

“We should go see what’s going on?” Y/n asked, making her way towards the shore where all the people were.

Y/n and her niece exited the water, with Tsireya throwing hair over her shoulder. Y/n accidentally made eye contact with two of the children and gave them a small smile and a nod before heading to where her brother’s mate was.

The environment was new to them. They weren’t used to being on a sandy beach or seeing Na’vi with teal skin and blues eyes, but Lo’ak and Neteyam knew that they would have to get used to it seeing as they were seeking protection from the sky people.

Movement from the water has caught Lo’ak’s attention as he was looking around. Out of the water came two very gorgeous Na’vi, one who’s skin was not the same teal color as literally everyone else’s. Lo’ak stared at the odd Na’vi woman until his brother noticed his attention was elsewhere and looked to the direction that caught his attention.

Neteyam froze when the woman made eye contact with them, a warm fuzzy feeling taking over their bodies. They don’t know who this woman was or what happened as they made eye contact with her, but whatever happened game them a sense of comfort and safety. They felt like the small part of them that the family had been missing was fulfilled, but that all went away when the woman looked away and disappeared behind the crowd.

The brothers shared a look before returning their attention back to the two men.

“Why do you come to us, Jakesully?“ Tonowari ask, standing tall in front

“We seek uturu.” Toruk Makto answered

“Uturu?” Ronal asked, speaking up from where she was. The crowd parted so the Tsahìk could could approach.

The pregnant woman walked around the family, looking them up and down, judging them harshly.

“Their tails are weak.” Ronal said, lifting up Kiri’s tail, proving her point. “You’ll be slow in the water.” She let go of the girls tail and moved onto her hands, grabbing them and putting them up to show the people, “These children are not true Na’vi.” She announced.

Ronal walked towards Lo’ak and lifted his hand as well, “They have demons blood.”

Gasp and whispers grew in the crowd, making the family uncomfortable with the stares, and whispers toward their appearance.

“That’s enough, dear sister.” A gorgeous voice spoke up, causing the crowd to part yet again. The family looked to where the voice came from and saw a Na’vi woman who’s appearance was nothing like her clan’s. She had the features of the Metkayina clan, but her skin was a bit different than the others. Her skin was a bit darker, making her a darker turquoise that matched the water beyond the reef instead of the bright blue that matched the reef as the rest of her clan had.

Jake studied her as she approached and stood by the Olo’eyktan. Jake met eyes with the woman and a warm feeling took over him. Looking at the gorgeous reef Na’vi gave him a sense of fulfillment, of being whole and he couldn’t put his finger on as to why he felt such an attraction to a woman who he has only shared a look with. Especially when he had such a gorgeous mate standing right next to him.

Jake cleared his throat and looked away from the alluring blue of the woman’s eyes. “Look,” Jake said, lifting his hands, and showing it to the people “Look,” he said, bringing their attention to him.“Look, I was born with the sky people and now I’m Na’vi. You can adapt-we will adapt.”

Neytiri tore her eyes away from the woman that had stopped her sister from picking them apart. She had also felt a warmth and sense of being whole come over her when she saw the woman. While she was smarter and a bit more wiser than Jake, she had also no idea as to why she was feeling the way she was. Both mates felt a sense of longing and attraction when they saw the woman, unsure as to why, they just push the thought aside to take care of the most important business.

“My husband was Toruk Makto,” she said to Ronal, missing how her husband grimaced when those words came out of her mouth. “He leads the clans the victory against the sky people.”

“You call this victory?” Ronal began, “hiding among strangers? It seems Eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one.”

Neytiri hissed causing the other woman to hiss back.

“That is enough! Everyone calm down, and let’s talk about this rationally.” The Na’vi who had caught the families attention spoke up, causing the two females stop hissing at each other.

Both women glared at each other until Jake stepped in, “I apologize for my mate. She’s-“

“Unbelievable,” Neytiri said, cutting Jake off with a scale, “do not apologize for me.”

“-come a long way, and she’s exhausted.” Jake finished.

“Jake,” Neytiri hissed in disbelief

“Toruk Makto is a great war leader. All Na’vi know his story.” Tonowari spoke up, breaking the tense atmosphere “But we, Metkayina, are not at war. We cannot let you bring your war here.”

Jake picked up his youngest daughter, who immediately looked to the woman that had caught her families attention earlier. She smiled and hid in her father’s neck when the woman gave her a smile and a little wave.

“I’m done with war, okay!” Jake said defensively, “I just want to keep my family safe.”

Tonowari shared looks with his mate before looking to his sister with Ronal doing the same. Despite her not being a clan leader, both held her opinions in high regard, and tend to look to her for them.

She looked at the family, wants more to see them, staring at her. The youngest one looked at her with large, pleading eyes, causing her to Cave instantly. She turned to her brother, and gave him a nod.

“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us.” Tonowari stated, after a few seconds of silent conversation with his mate and sister. “Treat them as our brothers and sisters. They do not know the sea-they will be like babies, taking their first breath. Teach them our ways, so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”

The Sully Family let out a sigh of relief. “What do we say?” Jake asked, turning to his kids. Tuk smiled at the leader of the clan, “Thank you.” She said brightly. The three teenagers repeating the words together.

“Our son, Ao’nung, and our daughter, Tsireya“will show your children what to do.” Tonowari gestured to his two children. His daughter smiled at the family comment obviously happy with the idea while his son frowned. He was obviously feeling the exact opposite of what his sister felt.

Tsireya happily walked up to the family with a warm, welcoming smile “Come, I will show you our village.” She said, practically bouncing in place

The family looked around for the beautiful, mysterious and alluring woman, but found that she had already left the beach

[rosymccheese]

Keep Me Ablaze

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: sorry you guys 😔 i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: death, mentions of blood, injury, grief, mentions of needles, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty One- Love

—-

The first thing you do is scream. It tears out of your chest like a piece of your heart rising up your throat, spilling out into the air. It hurt when Jake betrayed you, but this scene in front of you- Grace, panting, hand pressed over her blood red abdomen- is the most painful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

You throw yourself to the ground before her, your knees burning against the rough metal. You grab her free hand, the one that’s not keeping her alive, and her eyes find yours through all of this.

Through everything, love and loss, breathing and not, it has always been her. Always been Grace.

“Grace, Grace, please, please,” you say, and she shakes her head before another wave of pain hits her, and you are not ready for loss.

—-

The next time the world comes into focus, it’s Jake’s voice you hear first.

“Just keep going north,” he says into the walkie-talkie, looking out the window of the off-site link pod room. The world moves past the window, and you get the feeling like you’re the one watching. “Get us deep in the mountains.”

You almost want to ask him what’s happening, because your mind is so fuzzy you feel like a child. Where are you going? What’s the mountains? How can you save Grace?

“Copy that,” Trudy says through the device.

Grace squeezes her hand before you can say anything.

“Grace?” you ask, and she can barely even open her eyes. She lays on her side, in the open link pod that’s been turned into a hospital bed. A bright light shines above you, and it makes her look pale. You choose to believe it’s from the light, not the blood loss. “What- what is it?”

She reminds you of Eytukan in this moment. The tears in your eyes multiply, Jake speaking again, rifling through the trauma kit.

“I just… want you to know… that you, baby, you’re so special-” she bites back a groan.

“Shh,” you coo, smooth back her hair. “We’ll have time for that.” Her eyes open wide.

“Y/N-”

“I’m sorry for all the stuff I said to you, after what Jake did. You’ve always wanted what’s best for me, and I was just blinded by emotion. But I’m not, now.” You toy with a ringlet of bright red hair, more vibrant against her pale skin.

“Y/N, please-” she starts, but you know what she’s gonna say. She’s going to try and prepare you for her death, and you can’t focus on that, not right now.

“Just rest,” you murmur, and her wound must be exhausting her, so she closes her eyes for just a moment.

Jake reaches around you with a a needle in his hands, and you let him. You admire him. He saved you, and now he’s taking charge in the face of all this. Forgiveness is hazy, but right now- he is just Jake Sully, the man you fell in love with, your mate.

“Ouch,” Grace whispers as the needle sinks into her skin.

“You big baby,” Jake says, pulling back the blankets to see the growing red on her white bandages.

“We’re moving,” Grace notes, face covered in sweat. She grips your hand tight, and keeps squeezing it, like making sure you’re still there.

“I’m gonna get you some help, Grace,” he says.

“I’m a scientist, remember? I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

Jake bites his lip. “The People can help you. I know it.”

Her face drops, like maybe she even had some glimmer of hope she was trying to cover up.

“Why would they help us?” she asks, and she’s right.

—-

The next morning brings nothing but Grace’s growing weakness. She can barely keep her eyes open. Her skin is cold and clammy, but you don’t let go of her hand. You can’t.

You wake to the sound of another link pod opening, and you lift your head from the hard edge of it to look up where the sound came from.

“What’s the plan here, Jake?” Norm asks, leaning against the pod. Jake backs himself up alongside the pod, getting ready to lift himself out.

“There’s no plan,” he says, and your voice is rough, scratchy from crying and screaming when you speak.

“Tsu’tey is Olo’eyktan now. He won’t let you near there.”

Jake looks up at you like he’s in trouble, hands still planted on the handles of his wheelchair.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I’m not. And you’re a fool.”

He looks down, pulls himself up and over into the link pod. It’s not until he’s laying flat that he finally speaks.

“I gotta try, baby. I gotta try.”

—-

Her head is warm, now, and her fever makes her tongue loose.

Maybe it should have been you that went, not Jake, but you cannot leave Grace. You can’t leave her, knowing she may not be there when you come back.

“I loved Josie so much,” she says, a tear falling down her cheek. “I used to think her screams were trapped in the walls, like I could still hear them.”

“I know,” you whisper, tears falling down your own face. “I know.”

“You- you were such a fussy baby. It’s like you knew I wasn’t her, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You look just like her. Got- got the same eyes, you know. Your daddy’s nose. But you- what hurts me, is you have that same love for plants, flowers. Like me, like her- but those got her killed. It killed Martin, and that killed her.”

You let your tears fall freely now, not caring if it upsets your Aunt in her fever-crazed state.

“Promise me, baby, promise me you won’t follow the flowers. Follow the fire.”

—-

“Look where we are, Grace,” Jake whispers. She looks like a rag doll in his arms. Him as an Avatar, her a human.

You walk alongside them, holding onto Jake and looking between her and the path, trying not to trip through your tears. It feels like the entire world is falling down on you.

Grace is not your mother, not Josephine, not the forest. But she raised you. It was her who sang you to sleep, who read you stories, who told you she loved you all your life.

She loves you, so she can’t be taken away from you, because she loves you.

The Spirit Tree hangs down around you, glowing purple and reflecting on Grace’s skin. It makes her look blue, from this angle.

Her eyes open wide, her mask hissing as it provides her with oxygen.

A small smile crosses her face.

“I need to take some samples,” she breathes, and you let out something that sounds like a sob and a laugh. Jake chuckles, carrying her like a baby as he makes it up the small hill to the base of the tree.

The ground glows beneath you, like a sea of green-blue stars. Mo’at fixes Grace’s arms, ruffling the vines that wrap around her like clothes.

The top of her head touches her Avatar’s.

You lean in front of her, while Neytiri wraps a careful hand around your arm, as if making sure you don’t become too sad and simply- float away.

Mo’at waves her hand over the two bodies, the one consciousness. “The Great Mother may choose to save all that she is… in this body.”

The small little tendrils coming out of the ground, like little roots, grow at her gesture, her words, and wrap around Grace more and more.

“Is that possible?” Jake asks. You don’t even want to know the answer.

“She must pass through the eye of Eywa and return.”

You almost let out a sigh of relief. Your Aunt is the strongest, bravest, most resilient person you know. She can do that. She can do anything.

But Mo’at says it with such a grave look- you don’t dare even breathe. Her ears pull back.

“But… she is very weak.”

—-

You watch over Grace’s body anxiously, the unnatural stillness of it, the slow move of the soft-looking tendrils.

Mo’at chants and The People repeat it, and your mind is too muddled to translate. Jake waits beside you, but it is like you’re out of your body- watching over all of this apathetically, not capable of letting yourself feel, not when your heart knows what might happen.

You’re listening to your aunt.

You’re not following the flowers, the make believe. You’re following the fire. The real stuff, what you can feel, what you know.

But still, something inside of you that’s too much like your mother is crying over a flowerbed, pleading for a miracle that can never happen. Not now, not like this.

Suddenly, it all stops. Mo’at calls out, and the forest falls silent, like every person, animal is holding their breath- waiting to see what will happen.

In her human body, Grace tilts her head so she’s looking towards the sky.

She reaches her hand out, murmurs your name so softy that if you didn’t love her the way you did, know her so deeply, you wouldn’t have heard her. You jump forward, grab her hand and rest your palm over her chest.

Her heart beats.

It is not strong, not mighty, but it is there, you can feel it, you can hear it. It is there.

You have never prayed to Eywa before, but you pray it will stay.

“Aunt Grace,” you breathe, and her face falls into a smile, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“My baby,” she murmurs, eyes barely open. “I’m with her, Y/N. She’s real. Eywa, she’s real, and I- oh, baby, I can see your mother.”

You squeeze her hand, and you heart still rests on her chest, so you can feel her heartbeat fading.

“No,” you say, “no. You’re my Mom, Grace. You raised me, you love me, you can’t leave me. You can’t, please, please-”

She squeezes your hand once last time, and her head slowly falls back to the side, her hand like dead weight in yours.

When you drop her, it falls, limp, against her chest.

The bioluminescence, the blue-green starts to fade.

“What’s happening? Did it work? Did it-?”

You watch as Mo’at places a shaky hand against Grace’s cheek.

“Did it work?” you ask again, following the flowers.

“Her wounds were too great. It was not enough time. She is… with Eywa, now.”

You want to scream and shout, tell her that she’s lying, that there must be something, anything, that can bring her back to you, so she can love you again, and you can feel it-

Neytiri reaches past you and removes her oxygen mask.

Panic flares in your chest- she can’t breathe without her mask, she needs her mask-

Follow the fire, is what Grace had said, but you don’t think you can.

—-

taglist:

@eywas-heir @kitkat1690 @tiajk @reallysparklychaos @behindthearcane @neteyamforlife @aeslenya @ghoulbli @luvvsnae @personapersonally @bubble-blu @ameriesworld @itsyoboysparkel @ok-boke @arschbohrer @ambria @ssc7514 @w3ird11 @vane28282 @littlexscarletxwitch @erenjaegerwifee @myheartfollower @simp-erformarvelwomen @maevirago @n7cje @aerangi @minkyungseokie @disaster-in-waiting @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @hot15936 @noname2246 @fanboyluvr @ara-a-bird @fussel9913 @iwaslikeblah @hai-kbai @rosymccheese @itszzmoon @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lovekeeho @ducks118 @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @milf-lover-23 @the-wandering-pan-ace @scaredknight

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[rosymccheese]

On my own... (Sully family × reader)

enjoy! 💕

Y/n was adopted right next to Kiri! Y/n's parents died in war and her parents last wish was for someone to take care of Y/n. Jake and Neytiri promised to keep it...liars.

Y/n was a child filled with joy and she led with her heart...she was just so curious. She was a ball full of energy!

For awhile Y/n was apart of her parents hearts until…she wasn’t. Sure the child had a lot of energy and was constantly happy but, she was extremely sensitive so hearing their small sayings weighed a lot on the child’s heart...

*age 5*

“Y/n, where is your meal? You were supposed to pack for yourself today. Your mother didn’t have time to do yours, you know that.”

“oh my meal mmh i thi- Ooo! Look at that pretty flower!”

The father couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his daughter who didn’t take care of herself and easily got distracted. So he let a stern calling of her name,

“Y/n.”

“i forgot it.”

Y/n was staring off towards the woods tapping her thighs rapidly with her fingers and kicking her feet back and forth from the tree stump she was sitting on, watching the area where her siblings were playing.

Jake lets a frustrated sigh go while Kiri settles down next to Y/n to catch her breath from playing, but she was getting annoyed at the sound of tapping.

“Dad, Y/n’s not staying still!…why can’t you just do what you’re told?”

Kiri didn’t mean harm she was just frustrated at the sound…

“Y/n stop it. It’s annoying you’re bothering Kiri.”

Y/n looked down at her thighs that were bluer than usual because of the friction from tapping and hid her hands under them.

“…sorry”

The small child slowly got up to get closer by her father since she was grounded and wasn’t allowed fun. The reason? She went off to pick a bouquet of flowers for her mother and accidentally left for a ‘long time’…it was only 3 minutes.

Lo’ak threw a rock to his sister so she can look and come to him without their father knowing

“Y/n? What happened why aren’t you playing with us? Is there something wrong?”

“No…There’s something wrong with me. I’m not good at doing what I’m told and I can’t sit still.”

As if that was a cue for Jake to come in the conversation because he pulled Y/n back in right after.

“Y/n! Didn’t I tell you to sit still? Stay by your mother or me but stay still.” The child let out a big sigh as she did her shameful walk back to her father.

‘I can’t sit…he’s going to yell at me again. I’ll just walk back and forth instead, so it won’t be as noisy.’

Y/n settled on it, walking back and forth behind her father and besides her family while they ate their meal.

‘…aww i wish I had food, I’m hungry.’

Neteyam was watching his sister as she strangely kept moving at the same if not quicker pace. Why isn’t she eating with us? Does she not have food?

“Y/n? Here! Have my leftove-“

Neytiri cut his off saying “Y/n forgot her meal. She needs to remember, I told her to prep it before we left because I had no time. She’ll need to learn the hard way.”

‘dang it! why did I have to forget?…if Neteyam was offering the meal she made for him, how come I couldn’t eat it? why was mom saying that? … I’m just hungry.’

I sit down to look at the pretty small butterfly on the tree. It’s just a baby!

“Poor little bug on the wall, Ding jing! No one to-“

“Y/n! Stop it.”

My singing immediately comes to a stop as I now fully turn away from my family as the bug begins crawling towards me. I couldn’t help but feel upset, I’m hungry and I keep getting yelled at … why can’t I just be normal?…

Y/n silently cried looking away from her family and when it was time to leave she thought of the trick she’s been working on all week hoping it would make her family impressed!

“Guys look!”

None of them did because Y/n always said to look at something so they just ignored her, but Y/n didn’t notice because she was already standing on her hands.

“Did you see it!”

Jake spared a glance at the child while the family started walking away

“See what?”

Y/n got excited all over her again!

‘Dad finally heard me! Time to show him my cool trick! He’ll definitely love this!’

The child did it all over again but quickly came back down on her feet once she heard her dad begin to yell at her.

“Y/n! You can not do that! That is stupid! get back over here now. I mean it.”

Her tail was no longer going back and forth from excitement…instead it was stuck in between her legs and her ears went all the way back down as tears begin building up again.

Worst part of it was Y/n practiced for a week specifically to show everyone on…her birthday.

-*

*two days after..*

“Dad! Look at-

Y/n was bringing in two handmade bracelets showing it off to everyone before giving it to her parents!

“Y/n it’s time to stop running around! It’s ‘sir’ ok? Just sir.”

The girls smile fell and her excitement came done listening to her fathers harsh rules.

‘No dad? father? Ma sempul?…just sir..?’

“o-oh ok..”

she was given this rule way before it was a rule for her brothers. All the adults who saw the happy Y/n before walking towards her father, were watching while she was now walking back out with both of the bracelets on her wrist while small tears fell. They just turned a blind eye, who were they to tell their leader how to raise his child…?

-*

*age 6*

…Maybe Y/n was too much, they didn't want her but felt obligated too...? If they weren't doing the job they'd send someone to do it for them..as if Y/n was just some pet...a stray…She’ll never forget the first time they forgot her in the most serious distressing situation…

The young girl walked towards her father to make a request, maybe for once she'd just ask for permission! "Sir! I saw beautiful flowers and crystals perfect for beading on a walk can you please come with me so nothing bad will happen?"

Now..Y/n was fearless except when it came to the story she was listening in on about a monster' lingering the forest on the deep side getting angry at anyone in sight, Y/n didn't bother to hear the rest because she ran away instantly.

"No Y/n I will not. Just go get it”

"Oh but sir l'll be by myse-"

Jake Rolled his eyes to her annoying request...spend time with Y/n? He's spending time with Kiri right now so he refused.

"I'll send someone."

‘…He always does this! Please be an older warrior please be someone who can protect me! I don't want any monsters to get me!’

"Ma'ru take Y/n to get what she's requesting."

"S-sir are you sure? I don't exactly know where to sto-"

Jake cuts him off, just trying to quickly get the young girl that's throwing pleading eyes towards her father.

"You will Ma'ru just get it done."

The both of them watch Jake walk away with Kiri while they both wore terrified looks, concerned for their safety.

They walked side by side until there was a vicious monster popping out of the the forest. The young warrior threw Y/n to the side telling her to hide while he fights off the huge monster. Y/n clicked the microphone on her neck pleading for someone to save them.

"Ma'ru and a monster are fighting!" Frantic sobs were coming from Y/n…Jake who had fully ignored the young warriors warnings beforehand now listens while he silently regretted his decision. While Neytiri was sitting beside him with a concerned face at the sight of Jake's wide eyes.

"I'm talking to my parents Ma’ru...make them stop! Stop it! Eywa please! Mommy! Stop it don't hurt him!M-mommy Could you just come here please?…I'm scared just..-just come here!"

Y/n couldn’t even think straight she was calling for anyone to help them.

"Y/n! We're coming."

"They're hurting him! The monster may just...Ma'ru!"

More silent crying was coming through their earpieces as they begin telling Neteyam to watch his siblings so they can go towards the crying child.

"….Ma’ru….?”

They can hear shuffling from the earpiece, telling her parents that now it was Y/n who was moving.

Suddenly Piercing screams were heard from the child

"No! Something happened! Just please come!....the... monsters bleeding now! The monsters just made red marks on Ma'ru's body…..on his back. Ma'ru! Please stop! Don't move! You can get hurt!”

The monster started slowly moving towards Y/n ready to break the small cave she was hidden in...even with blooding leaking out of him.

Y/n's screams lead Jake and Neytiri right to them.

They rushed in killing the huge animal they hadn't seen in years and are quick to pick up Ma'ru, Y/n was the last thing on their mind since they knew she wasn't hurting…at least not physically.

They thought Y/n had ran away back to high camp so they flew out..but that wasn't the case.

The dead creature was in front of Y/n and she begins crying even more. The only thing lighting up the cave was the head of the creature and as Y/n tried pushing the creature out. She touched the center of the head and began seeing visions.

These visions were unreal...the creatures family being crushed by tree's around them from the war a long time ago...it was just a baby. Y/n instantly pulled away from the giant creature, fainting immediately.

When Y/n woke up she could hear her father through her ear piece.

"Y/n? Where are you? You are ordered to come home right now!"

Y/n was fully drained, exhausted

"Sir? I-I'm still here! Please hurry."

The 6 year old had to wait there crying at the fact that her parents had left her on her own with a dead creature. It didn't help that Y/n’s body felt like it was adapting to something brand new and she was becoming exhausted while her body was sweating out bullets...maybe it was the fact that she was in a small cave.

They had came and pushed out the animal from the front, Neytiri was quick to give Y/n a blank stare seemingly looking bored or upset that nothing happened to Y/n…she didn’t even check if she was ok. There may have been no marks on Y/n but it hurt her mentally, she saw a lot of blood and had to stay stuck with it for a long time since they had forgotten her.

*

Maybe I’m just not as important anymore…did they leave me on purpose when it happened? Why do they push me away so much…? Is it because I’m not their biological child…no because if that was the case Kiri and I would be treated the same. I mean they chose me didn’t they? I was the one they wanted!

That was the conclusion Y/n ended with every time ‘they choose me! I was the one they wanted!’ she never spoke any of her inner thoughts because she was scared that she would speak it into further existence..however this incident stuck a long time with Y/n and developed some habits.

Neteyam was always there for her, Lo’ak was her partner in crime, and although Y/n was slightly jealous at the better treatment Kiri got she never let it affect Kiri and her’s relationship!

*age 6*

All the kids were playing around and Neteyam was finally allowed to come along on the condition that he takes good care of his siblings.

They were playing a game and when it was Y/n’s turn Spider convinced the group to follow him towards an area he found earlier Neteyam debated on it but…he needed to watch his siblings right? Y/n was just one compared to 2 and another child. So he followed as well.

“Ok!!! I think I’m ready to be a butterfly now!”

Y/n was left in the tree as she finally moved the leaf covering her face, letting giggles out as she looked down for her siblings to catch her except…they weren’t there. Panic rises in at being left at again and it hadn’t even been long since the accident maybe…2 weeks..?

‘I’ll just lay down and stay here until they come…they’ll come back right..?’

She couldn’t just lay there…she was tapping everything quickly. Hiding herself in between the large leaves as tears begin falling and then she decides to comfort herself from seeing the sight of a small baby butterfly she saw on her 5th birthday.

“…poor little bug on the wall ding jing…No one to love her at all..no one to tickle her toes ding jing..no one to blow her nose ding jing!”

Then she heard laughter coming closer from below and she looked down at her siblings and friend, wiping her tears away before she came down.

“Y/n?“

“Why did you leave me behind?”

Lo’ak gives a confused face while spider and Kiri roll their eyes and Neteyam is quick to try to comfort his sister who clearly still wasn’t doing ok, no matter how hard she tried.

“What? We thought you’d follow us after!”

“Well I didn’t because no one told me and you guys left me behind on purpose!”

Kiri joins the conversation with

“And why would you think we’d do that Y/n?”

Y/n quickly looks down at her feet and her tail goes back down thinking about the incident she witnessed two weeks ago.

“…i don’t know”

Spider decides to lighten up the mood with a small push that fully failed in Y/n’s mind

“Y/n! You’d be good at hide n seek! We couldn’t even see you in that leaf probably because you have practice since you had to hide in that small cave!”

They laughed everyone except Y/n..she looked down with her ears no longer up while tears came back. Neteyam reaches towards his sister before saying

“Oh, y/n it’s ok! It’s funny…”

He tried to comfort her but she just took a step back before saying quietly

“no it isn’t…I’m just going to head home..”

The group watched as Y/n ran home and decided it’d be better if she had just took time for herself, this was the first time they got to see Y/n get really sad about the situation she went through. Neteyam followed his sister who didn’t get that far before she sat back down hiding in a corner crying because she was scared while walking alone.

“Y/n…it’s ok to be scared. I know it was scary for you, but you haven’t shown any sadness from it for the past two weeks. You also have been saying yes to everything even though it’s very clear to me that you aren’t in the best position to want to do things like you used to…you’ll get back to that. Sometime your outside voice says yes even when your inside voice really means no.”

Everything Neteyam was saying was very true. If her father wanted her to get something even though she was scared to even move afar, she still quietly said yes. If Kiri asked her to come with her so that she have connect with a new environment, Y/n gave a small smile and said yes even though as soon as they would get to the destination she would crawl into a small spot watching her sister. And Lo’ak? Please Y/n didn’t even have the energy to say yes she just nodded before following him.

“I know…but it’s just scary. What I saw wasn’t normal Neteyam. There-there was so much..”

Neteyam just hugged his sister before telling her that it’s ok and she didn’t need to explain. They both walked back to camp and Y/n offered to help around the village with Neteyam.

*

So yes…Y/n’s childhood wasn’t picture perfect and she often did struggle on the thought of someone not following her when she’s walking around but Lo’ak filled up that empty spot and he adventured everywhere with her. The two would get in trouble together but in their parents head it was never equal…It wasn’t Lo’ak AND y/n, it was Y/n and Lo’ak just happened to follow or be dragged along…to put it this way, y/n got in way more trouble and if anyone did something out of pocket…Y/n was to blame if she was there. Y/n even took the blame for Neteyam, she’d lessen the punishment for her siblings anytime! What’s the point in not taking it if her parents were going to find some way to blame her every time.

Everyone had already gotten their Iknimaya. Neteyam and Kiri handled it perfect and Lo’ak well…at least he got his ikran! Y/n was ecstatic for her siblings but she couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration watching them all pass by and forget her.

Y/n wore out Tuk by playing children games so she was now resting and Y/n was waiting for the rest of the family to come home so that she can ask her father if he can grant her the chance to have her Iknimaya…..Y/n has actually asked several times and he denied her fully each and every time….

Her siblings walked in taking a seat next to her while everyone was talking and Y/n just silently stared off smiling happily thinking about her finally being in the air and doing whatever she wanted without anyone or any…monsters stopping her. She was tapping her knees creating a small beat all Neteyam could do was eye his younger sister suspiciously before asking the big question.

“What’s on your mind Y/n? What are you planning to do?”

All siblings began looking at Y/n suspiciously while she just giggled at their curiosity

“I’m going to ask our father if I can finally get my ikran! It has been awhile since I last asked and I just figured you know it’d be a perfect time to ask! My Iknimaya will have all you beside me and I will succeed…it’s all I’ve dreamed of! Flying like a butterfly!”

They all had their smile completely drop once while Y/n’s stayed on because she didn’t look up to see their reactions instead, she was just anxiously tapping the floor..

“Sister now you know that-“

Lo’ak rolls his eyes at his brothers slow approach and decided to speed it up for Y/n to understand.

“You know that dad will deny you! He has denied you every other time, and we don’t know why but trust me when we say this you’ll be like 30 before you get your Ikran!”

Kiri hits Lo’ak on the side of the head, giving Y/n a sympathetic smile before hugging her.

“Oh sister, I know that you dream about it all the time but please, maybe father has his reasons..?”

Y/n’s eyes begin watering at the thoughts that her dreams won’t come true if she continues like this any longer, it was miserable.

“I’d rather just try then sit here…I can’t do this anymore.”

As they watch Y/n push back her tears and wipe them away Neteyam and Lo’ak eyes go wide at the sight of their parents. They begin nudging Y/n and Kiri. There was no exact words to describe what Y/n was feeling…

I got this! I’m just gonna go right into it! My dreams are going to come true! Forget what they say I- I know I got this!

“Sir, mother! Hello!” Y/n noticed how they both placed blank faces and uninterested stares, not even giving Y/n a chance to talk…but Y/n still had full hope in her heart so her hopes didn’t falter.

“I’ve been thinking, that now would be the time to have my Iknimaya! I’m very confident that I can do it.” As if their faces couldn’t get more dull, it did.

“No. How many times do we have to go over this? No. Look at you Y/n. You will not do your Iknimaya you aren’t ready.”

Neytiri stood by her husband not saying anything just observing Y/n’s face and it seemed to her that Y/n was just barley hanging on. If Jake said no this time she’d finally give up and wait for him to accept her taking her Iknimaya.

“Sir I understand what your saying but you are providing me zero proper reasons why, I deserve this at least. I did my training already, and I’ve practicing for the longest now. This is now my 8th time asking you, please do not say no.”

Jake’s held zero patience for the ‘daughter’ in front of him.

“And everytime you have asked me I have said you aren’t ready. That’s my reason. You still can’t remain calm, you’re always getting into trouble, you can’t even keep quiet for 5 seconds Y/n. You still can’t stay still. What makes you think you’re ready for an Iknimaya when you aren’t even mentally ready?!”

All siblings in the room jaws dropped…how was y/n not mentally ready? As long as family was there she would be fine.

“I-I don’t even know why you would say that. That’s not fair. Lo’ak and I have only ever been in trouble for the same thing. I am fully ready for my Iknimaya.”

My eyes were watering and I can feel the burning in my throat, I wanted this and I wanted it bad. They didn’t even give me a chance.

“Ready? Y/n you’re ready to cry when I simply told you no. You are too…just no.”

“This is all I’ve ever dreamed of for awhile now, it’s all I’ve trained for and you are the one who’s constantly denying me. I’m too what? Go on. Finish your sentence don’t be hesitant now.”

No matter how much shouting he’s given me it’s never gotten easier and I don’t ever fall apart in front of him, just blink away my tears and cried when I was away…but this time I was ready to match his anger.

“You’re too weak. You are nothing compared to how your siblings were when they got their Iknimaya. If crying is your option to everything what do you think an ikran is going to do to you? Play nice? You think you have it all settled for you huh? You can’t handle anything you are given. You aren’t strong. You are naive.”

He’s just taking my dreams and crushing it right in front of me and he didn’t even care…so why should I? There’s no more hope for me and im running out of options for him to finally notice im giving up on caring about what he thinks.

“I am just as likely as anyone else in this family to make something of myself, and it’s about time you got that you arrogant shit. I am not weak. You just fail to allow yourself to feel any real emotions. Do not put your troubles on me. I mean really, when did you ever tell me you cared, or that you actually gave a single shit about my feelings. I want this.”

Neytiri gains the strength to slap Y/n in the face, looking her right in her eyes and they ignited a bigger flame to Y/n’s heart…she wasn’t even phased.

“You will not speak to your father like that. Never.”

Y/n breaks a smile and starts laughing except this time instead of annoying her parents it shocked them.

“Father? As if I will ever call him that again. He forbid me to call him that and you know what? It hurt. So how could I ever hold you to a higher level such as a parent again.?! I’ve been trying to be…nice. You both are truly pushing over the edge.”

Y/n took a step back looking at her ‘father’ again.

“You will give go through with my Iknimaya. It will be held tomorrow. You owe me this.”

Jake shakes his head giving his daughter a harsh look.

“I do not owe you anything! You were in deep debt to me the moment we started taking care of you. Always being stupid and reckless, you think it was fun for us taking care of you? Constantly crashing into everything cause that’s all you did, ruin it all.”

I couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief nodding my head listening to him confirm all of the thoughts I pushed deep down.

“Thanks for the confirmation ‘dad’..but I already have you all figured out, you like the idea of me, you like having the people see you and praise you for taking care of a girl who had no one but you do not love me. This is not love. You have never loved me.”

Jake dropped the things he was holding and told the other three watching and tuk to just wait outside…but they could still hear. Everyone was so confused on why Y/n didn’t break yet…she immediately shuts down when getting yelled at, she can’t handle loud noises if it’s not something she enjoyed and even then it slightly bothers her, she is attached to their parents weather she liked to acknowledge it or not…well it wasn’t really her fault, they didn’t want her to know anything and they practically made her dependent…except Y/n never trusted their parents, she flinched at everything and her smile completely goes away when she’s in front of them…maybe it’s cause they never saw her true childhood, what she kept a secret.

“If I didn’t have you things would be completely different but we did have you. It then follows without question that you are obligated to do what I tell you to do!”

“You have screwed with my head in more ways than I can count. I will not have you do it to me again! You don’t think I know how you feel? What you want to happen to me? When I was looking at death right in front of me, trapped, you left me. Now you’re doing what? You deciding to make my life even worse? Good job on your shitty parenting. There were moments when all you had to do was be my parents and even then you despised me. You take what you please and offer nothing. I hate you.”

No one was there besides his wife so Jake did what he would on the rare occasions, when he got so mad at y/n…he shoved her onto the floor, He made red marks on y/n…on her back.

“Fine! You do what you want! Do not come crawling back to me when it doesn’t end well. Go ahead Y/n go do your stupid fucking Iknimaya, by yourself! Because i will not stand there and watch you go against my wishes. Go now.”

Now? But now, was way past eclipse…I could die, something could catch me i won’t make it…

“…you know I can’t make it on my own. It-it’s dark-“

In that moment Y/n resulted back to her childlike self, being alone was all it took for her…she never thought Jake would actually go this far. It always caused her trouble that she led with her heart because…she was always the fool with the slowest heart. It seems as though in that moment her heart was quick to break.

“Enough. I don’t want to hear you anymore. Go do it, I fucking dare you.”

He knew about the childish games Y/n would play with her siblings…how Y/n never broke a dare, how she dreamed about her iknimaya and would do anything for it, but she wouldn’t dare do it right now. She would be forced to listen to him.

“Fine. I will do it.”

That’s all it took for Neytiri to turn back around and give panicking stares to Jake…

!🦋!

I wanted this part to show some parts of Y/n’s childhood! Not all of it because I’d rather have it all come crashing down 😃 LMFAOOS but I hope you enjoyed and yes, There are Bluey references here 🤭 p.s it’s very clear Y/n has parental issues from her childhood 🚨 they wanted to make her dependent on them, she stands no chance by herself in their mind. May take awhile for me to reply to comments because I need to clean 😭 I’ve been working on this for two days now!

Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir @itshype @zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll @tsireyak @neteyamforlife @aimsro @elegantkidfansoul @goodiesinthecloset21 @nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @ssc7514 @destinylb @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lv9su @luciddasher @dakotali @httpjiikook @tainted-artist4161 @fanboyluvr @bat1212 @mxn14

[rosymccheese]

Of Ikran And Direhorses Part 2 (Fluffy Platonic Sully Fam X Venätrix te Septimus)

Venä banked to the right to avoid the floating rock covered with vines and greenery before resettling into the formation. Jake's comm collar was crackling and Jake was clearly having a conversation with someone, someone who was causing him an extreme amount of anxiety. Lo'ak, it had to be. Venä slipped forward and urged her Ikran to align with Jake's Ikran Bob so that she could hear better. "It's me, Spider, Kiri……and Tuk" Lo'ak reported and Neytiri's head snapped up at the mention of her youngest child. "Do not engage, get out of there" Jake demanded before dropping the comm line, "I know a shortcut!" Neteyam called and Neytiri nodded for him to lead on. The four Ikran veered down to the left, a clear destination in mind. All Venä could hope was that they were safe, that they could remain hidden for just a while longer.

They landed silently, the Ikran using their strong hooked claws to grip onto the trees before they dismounted. "Stay with the Ikran" Jake instructed Venä and Neteyam who both nodded while Neytiri had already slipped away and blended in perfectly with the trees. Jake went the opposite way to his wife, likely hoping to clear another way to the others. Neteyam didn't relax for a second, his rider's mask sat low on his brow while he stalked between the Ikran and scowled, obviously hating being kept at a distance from the action the others in his family were involved in.

"Mawhey Neteyam, you're riling up the Ikran" Venä murmured, her voice low and calm as she reached out to catch his arm as he passed her. "Something isn't right, they should be back by now" he replied irritably though he did stop pacing at the very least. He was right, it was meant to be a quick retrieval so something had to have complicated the mission. "Listen, I cannot hear anything. Can you?" Venä asked as she realised how eerily silent the forest had become, "No, nothing" Neteyam said worriedly and then the gunshots ruined the silence making both Venä and Neteyam hit the dirt as they tried to figure out the direction the bullets were coming from.

Shouts, gunfire and squeals filled the forest and echoed off the trees making both Venä and Neteyam leave their post, Venä headed in Jake's direction and Neteyam in his Mother's with their weapons drawn expecting to be drawn into the fight or at least provide cover. Venä stayed in the shadows and aimed for the distinct light that flashed every time a bullet was fired, a metallic glow that always gave it away. The first arrow she fired went right through one of the avatar soldier's neck, a clean kill. The second went into the shoulder of a soldier that the larger gun was mounted on, it threw the soldier off enough that Jake could jump in and finish them. By now the kids had all broken free of the soldiers who held them and Jake looked toward them and then at Venä, she now had her orders and she fell back into the shadows to trail the other kids and make sure they got to the safety of the Ikran while Jake took care of business.

Venä tailed the gunfire and found Kiri and Tuk trapped behind a large log while their Mama was engaged in a shoot off with the leader of the not-avatars. It took four arrows to get the avatar off of Kiri and Tuk's location and she was able to creep on in and grab Tuk's and Kiri's arms and bring them down over the slight hill  with a lip that would shield them for a moment of recon. They'd barely slipped under the ledge when both Lo'ak and Spider dove in after them. "Are you alright? Check yourself!" Venä urged as she turned Tuk around herself for a quick look over and then sighed in relief when she found the little girl physically alright though the terror was rolling off her in waves so to calm her Venä used her knife to saw through the solid orange plastic cuffs around her wrists and those on Kiri. Lo'ak and Spider did the brotherly thing and checked each other while Venä looked over Kiri who had felt something strange on her back which turned out to be some scuffs from being tossed to the ground, slightly painful but not fatal. They were alright.

The sound of Neytiri's battle cry grew louder as did the gunfire, they couldn't stay where they were or they risked being boxed in with fighting on every side. "We need to move, stay low to the ground and head out to the trees. Call the Ikran, get out if you can" Venä instructed and grabbed Tuk's hand, her only objective was to get every single one of them out alive. Lo'ak and Spider left their tiny spot of safety first, crouched low and moving fast over the natural terrain. Kiri, Venä and Tuk followed but by the time the girls had gotten out, Lo'ak and Spider had been spotted and had given them away. Neytiri was doing her best to keep the shooters off them, arrow after wickedly sharp arrow flew from her bow with insane accuracy taking down two of the soldiers.

The girls came to a large fallen tree, they had initially wanted to follow the boys but the gunfire had forced them in the other direction. "Go over" Venä shouted knowing this was the fastest way out and would also provide them with some cover once they reached the other side. Kiri could jump and pull herself over with ease but Tuk wouldn't make it, Venä didn't even ask for permission before she snatched the girl off the ground and bounded over the log, throwing her entire body weight into the toss while keeping Tuk tucked into her chest. After a lifetime of climbing into direhorses Venä knew exactly what to do. Just as she flipped over the log she felt a sharp sting in her leg, the resounding close range gunshot made Tuk scream. Venä had been grazed by one of the bullets bouncing around the trees but she was already most of the way over the log, she could continue.

"Are you ok?" Tuk cried once they were in the clear, her big golden eyes wet with tears. "I'm fine, we need to move" Venä said through gritted teeth, "You're bleeding" Kiri pointed out but Venä was already tearing at the cloth on her skirt to bind her leg. "I saw your Mama, she's just behind us" Venä muttered, her leg stung as she tied the cloth but she knew she had to get the girls to safety, she just had to. 

The gunshots had died down but Venä wasn't too eager to get the girls out in the open just yet, it could be that the shooter was just waiting and conserving their ammunition. She waited for ten breaths and listened, her ears twitching at every tiny sound before she peeked around the tree and saw the soldier had moved but so had Neytiri. 

"Stay with me, keep your eyes and ears open" she urged Tuk and Kiri, this time they would hold each other while Venä held her already notched bow at the ready as they skirted the trees and stuck to the undergrowth, hiding within the shadows cast through the leaves and hoping to find their family on the other side. It was all going so well when they came face to face with one of the not-avatars, the soldier had been hit with one of Venä's arrows but had backhanded her before she could reload. Venä hit the ground hard and discarded her bow before launching at the not-avatars with her knife, the soldier was already dying but Venä would finish him off with her blade piercing his jugular vein and bathing her in hot blood. 

The girls quickly regrouped and pressed on further into the forest until at last they met with Neytiri who had Lo'ak, Spider and Neteyam by her side. A few moments later Jake came jogging into the clearing as the sound of a human helicopter roared in the distance. "Mama!" Tuk cried, diving for her mother's arms followed by Kiri. Jake pulled his sons and Spider into an embrace so only Venä remained on the outside, a lone Na'vi covered in drying blood shed in the name of the Sully family. Venä backed up several paces to collect her bow, bending down sent an ache through her leg that reminded her immediately of her injury that the adrenaline hadl momentarily allowed her to forget. She gave a low hiss as she sunk to the ground to collect her arrows which had spilled from their quiver and then felt hands on her shoulders.

Neytiri had come over, at first Venä assumed it was to help her collect the arrows or to speak to her but then the woman bent down ever so gracefully and put her arms around her in what was perhaps the most loving embrace that Venä had ever had in her life. Tuk and Kiri followed their Mama's lead and wrapped their arms around Venä like a little cocoon. This was what having a living family must feel like. Jake allowed the women to have their own moment before they all stood and he pulled Venä in for a hug, his adult frame dwarfing her. "Thank you" he whispered so that Neteyam who also disobeyed orders couldn't hear.

They headed back soon after, all of them twitchy and nervous that they were being tailed. With the kids now back in High Camp, Jake and Neytiri had to talk and it would bring about one of the most heartbreaking decisions of their lives.

Tuk was peeking under the tent while her parents were speaking before calling her siblings to come and listen too, Venä had gone off to Mo'at to be checked over and properly assessed for her injuries so she wouldn't know what the others did until later.

"We need to leave, not just the area but the clan. We are not safe and the people around us are not safe either. It's not been an easy decision, this hurts your mother and I just as much as you all but it's for the best, for everyone" Jake explained to his family while Neytiri remained silent though she had been crying, her puffy eyes gave that away all too easily.

Hearing the news, Venä began to pack her few belongings into her old saddlebag. She didn't know how her clan would react to her suddenly reappearing in their lands but she had no other options, High Camp was full to bursting as it was. She was folding up one of her shawls when Neytiri stopped her, a single hand out down on the bag so that Venä couldn't open it. "I'm sorry, I had hoped to be gone before you left to make it easier on everyone" she whispered, her voice simply couldn't be any louder lest the tears and sons break through. "Gone where?" Jake asked, he'd been in the doorway but having heard what Venä said, he'd come in and quickly sat beside her with a furrowed brow. "Back down to the ground" she replied, puzzled as to why they didn't understand. Neytiri and Jake looked at each other, how could this incredibly brave girl think they would abandon her now? Her situation wasn't like Spider's, the boy simply couldn't come because of his need for oxygen, it was too dangerous to be so far from the human camp that supplied him and could fix his masks. He hated it of course but Norm did promise the prototype mask would be ready by summer and he could communicate via the holotablet daily if he wanted, it was the best it could be.

"Venä, we want you to come with us. You are a part of our family, you have bled for us. If you don't want to come that's fine, we understand but we care for you and only want the best for you" Neytiri said softly, and Venä looked between them utterly stunned, they wanted her in their family? Her own family didn't even want her in the family. "Of course I'll come" she answered with a single tear escaping her eyes. There would be tears to come, the devastation of losing a clan had already occurred to Venä so losing out a second time was easier. She followed the Sullys as the last to leave behind Neteyam with a shawl over her shoulders and a bandage around her leg. She was no longer Omatikaya. For now she was of no clan at all. 

They would be riding their Ikran to the place Jake hoped would offer them sanctuary and would have to stop a few times to rest the Ikran and eat. With her injured leg it was harder to climb onto her banshee so while she mentally prepared for the pain of forcing her body to co-operate through the injury, Neteyam and Lo'ak boosted her up onto her ikran's back. "I was fine" she began to say but Neteyam simply patted her thigh and cut her off, "No you weren't and it's ok to ask for help, we wouldn't have said no" he chastised before mounting his own Ikran. The Ikran took flight and maintained perfect formation, a single line with Jake at the lead and Venä at the rear giving her the perfect view of her old home fading fast in the distance. It was time to move on, time for a new start.