#don't stay silent on child abuse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

folklaur21 · 15 days

Text

What would've should've been

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!ravenclaw!reader

Summary: Theodore Nott didn't truly know what love felt like until he found you. But now all he can do is sit and imagine what should've been.

Warnings: Mentions of death/killing, Battle of Hogwarts, use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.3k

Before You

Theodore Nott isn't the happiest person in the world. Scratch that, he might be the most subdued, emotionally complex guy to have ever existed. Hardly anything made him smile, next to nothing made him laugh. That's just how he was, is, and how he will always be.

It isn't completely his fault. People are never born 'sad' or 'emotionless'. Theo was brought up this way. It was ingrained into him as a child, silently impacting his life forever, and he didn't even realise it. Well, that was until his mother died. At the hands of his father.

Theodore's mother was a gentle soul. Sweet and caring, she always looked after her son. She gave him everything a child needed, wanted, and then some. The one thing she couldn't provide for Theo? A stable father, who wasn't an alcoholic, abusive pig. Though she did try, the fear she had of Theodore's father never ceased throughout their marriage. She just had to try to shelter Theodore from this cold, uncaring lifestyle.

She could only protect her son so much. When Theodore was just nine years old, she couldn't take the abuse from his father anymore. So she tried to escape. From her house, from her husband, from her life. Yet she failed. And he found out. Theodore Nott Sr. was not happy with this. So he did the only thing that he thought could ease his troubles. He killed his wife. The mother of his child. The child that had heard the Unforgiveable Curse uttered from his father's lips. The child who watched the flash of green light emitted from his father's wand. The child who had to watch his own mother, the only person who truly cared for him, die.

When he started Hogwarts, Theodore wanted a somewhat fresh start. Free from the burdens of his home life, he made friends.(Arguably, they were friends who his father would have approved of. If his father even cared.) At school, Theodore worked hard, and tried to mask the emotions he had always been told to oppress. Anger. Hatred. Vulnerability. So none of his friends truly knew what his life was like. Except for Lorenzo.

Theo told Enzo Berkshire everything. It was easier, having someone understand why you were like you were. Someone who you trusted with your deepest, darkest secrets. Someone who cared about you. That's how the two became best friends. Practically inseparable, 24/7.

During You

Having a connection with someone was something Theodore didn't truly seek throughout his lifetime. Especially now, in his fourth year at Hogwarts. Apart from Enzo, he was fine with keeping to himself, keeping a low profile and staying out of everyone's way. That was, until he saw you.

"Enzo, I don't want to go."

"Please, Theo, I want you to come. I'll be lonely without you." Enzo pleaded with his friend.

"I don't want to go to the Yule Ball. And besides, I didn't ask anyone to go with me." Theodore replied, still resisting the idea.

"So? No-one really cares if you're with someone or not. It's supposed to be fun." Enzo says with a sigh as he flops down next to Theo on his bed.

Theo scoffs. "Says you! How many girls asked you to go with them? 15?"

Lorenzo turns slightly pink at his friend's comment. "23..."

Theo lets out an exasperated sigh. "Exactly," Theo says, but after a moment he decides, "I will go to the ball with you Enz. Only because it's that, or sit around here or in the common room with all the first years."

So, that was how he ended up standing at the side of the Great Hall, sipping a glass of pumpkin juice, and watching all of his friends dancing with whoever they brought to the Ball. Theo didn't really mind. Once again, he was merely waiting in the wings, not really expecting anything grand to happen to him. At least, that's what he thought would happen. Until he saw you.

You were with some of your friends on the dancefloor. Laughing and smiling, you were carefree, living your life to it's full potential. Theo couldn't bear to take his eyes off of you. It's not like you would have seen him anyway, with him lurking in the shadows.

After he had spent what felt like forever watching you, Enzo came to his friend's side, offering a new glass of pumpkin juice, which Theo gladly accepted.

"Who's that?" Theo asked his friend, nodding his head in your direction.

"That's Y/N. Y/L/N I think. She's in Ravenclaw. She's actually quite clever, I sat next to her in arithmancy last year." Enzo pauses for a second. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know," Theo shrugs, nonchalant. "I just... don't remember seeing her before, that's all."

"Oh. Well, she's really kind. And sweet." Enzo smiles before rushing of again to resume dancing, leaving Theo to mull over his thoughts. Thoughts of you.

A week later, whilst sat in Potions, Theodore couldn't help but watch you, sitting across from him in the classroom. Strange. He had never noticed you before, but now it seemed you were the only thing plaguing his mind. He hardly took any notice of Professor Snape that lesson, watching you as you took notes with your brow furrowed, and how you twirled your quill around in your fingertips if you seemed distracted.

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott grew to know lots about you, even if you didn't yet realise it. He knew your favourite subject (Charms), your favourite sweets from Honeydukes (Chocolate Frogs, because you collected the cards). He even knew how you liked to spend your Sundays (sat in the courtyard with a book and a hot chocolate). Theo was drawn to you, for some unknown reason, and not even he could figure out why.

In the weeks leading up to your exams, you spent an increasing amount of time in the library, studying. Funnily enough, so did Theodore. He wanted to do well academically, even if his friends preferred skiving off and messing with first years. So, that was how he came to speak to you for the first time, five whole months after he was first captivated by you.

"Can I sit here? All the other tables are either occupied or slightly sticky and I don't want to mess up my books"

"Uhh, sure!" Theodore said, shocked that you had even come over to him. "No," he told himself. "She's only over here because nowhere else was free. Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm Y/N, by the way." You smile at him, and wave your wand to get your books laid out on the desk in front of you.

"Theodore. But you can call me Theo." Theodore said, as he found himself smiling in return.

The two of you started to talk about anything and everything; school, exams, your hobbies, interests, just your lives in general. And that's how Theo realised that, maybe he wasn't such a cold, uncaring teenager after all.

A week or so later, the two of you were sat under the shade of an oak tree overlooking the Black Lake, studying for, you guessed it, exams. That moment was when Theo finally plucked up enough courage to ask you something.

"Hey, Y/N?" he asked, taking a deep breath.

"What?" you replied, looking up from your book.

"I was wondering, would you maybe like to, and it's OK if you don't, I don't mind, you don't have to say yes or anything because it's completely your choice-"

"Spit it out, Theo!" you giggled, humoured by his rambling.

"Right. Sorry." Theo said, trying to calm himself down. "Umm, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? And could we possibly go to the Three Broomsticks? You know, just... us?"

Your eyes widened, before you smiled at the boy's worried expression. "Of course! Theo I'd love to."

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek before returning to your book, leaving Theodore grinning as if he'd just won the lottery. Which, with you, he basically had.

After You

It had been a while since Theodore Nott had been back at Hogwarts. Since he had gotten the Dark Mark, at his father's force, he had stayed working for The Dark Lord, being a Death Eater. He hated it. It was a life his father had forced him into, a life which wasn't truly his. And now he was back at the one place which had been a home to him, but now he was here to destroy it.

Theo tried to look for you. The one person who he trusted, and the one person who trusted him. Theo wasn't here to fight. He wasn't here to kill. He couldn't do that here. His safe place, where his father couldn't physically torture him. Where you were.

Before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Theo was held under the Imperius curse by his father, and the searing skull tattoo, the tattoo that would hurt him forever, was imprinted into his left arm. When school started again, he couldn't bear to tell you, his girlfriend, what had happened. But he did, because between you two, there were no secrets. When you found out, all you were was supportive. You helped Theo though his pain and anguish, but what he didn't know is that when you first found out, you cried for hours. Crying about his future, your future, angry at the world you live in for being so cruel. Crying was really the only thing you could do.

After Dumbledore's death, Theodore did what he thought would be best for your relationship, best for you.

"You can't be serious, Theodore?" you said, trying to keep your voice levelled and clear, holding back the tears.

That hurt Theo. You never called him Theodore, unless you were really frustrated. Which hadn't happened until now. "Y/N please, I have to, it's for your safety."

"My SAFETY? Theo, I couldn't care less about that right now. Please, don't do this." You couldn't hold back any longer. The tears were now streaming down your face.

"I don't want to, but-"

"But what, Theo? I love you!"

"I love you too, but-"

"Then surely that's all that matter?" you say, exasperated. "We love each other. We can run away together, and live in hiding until it's safe for us to come out, to be together."

"No, we can't, you know we can't, we'll be found and then... you'd... You'd be killed." Theo says in a small voice. "And I can't let that happen to you. Please, Y/N, just listen to me. As soon as this is over, we can get back together. We can live together, start over together. But it can't happen now. Not yet. Please, Y/N, wait for me."

You can't stop crying now, and you lean over to Theo and kiss him. "OK. When it's all over. I'll be waiting for you, Theo. You'll definitely come back to me?"

"Of course I will, Y/N. I promise I'll find you."

And of course, that's what he was currently doing. Looking for you. He had been waiting a year to see your face again, hoping you hadn't forgotten about him. However now he couldn't find you. Running through the corridors, shouting you name, dodging curses and rubble, Theo's only goal was to find you. And he did.

There you were at the top of the Astronomy tower, a split lip and wearing a torn blue jumper, you were aiming all sorts of hexes at a Death Eater. Theo was so relieved, and began firing spells at your opponent, until he was knocked unconscious. At that point, Theo kicked the limp body over the balcony, not caring what would happen.

"Y/N." Theo smiled. "I told you I'd come back."

You pulled Theo into a hug and kissed him. "Theo!" you breathed.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N." All Theo could do was look into your bright, tearful eyes, relieved that he could see you once again before-

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

That fateful curse.

A flash of green light.

Your body fell limp in Theo's arms.

Your eyes lost their brightness.

"NO!"

Theo tried to pull you up, tried to hold you tight, but it was no use. You were gone. Theo looked up to see your murderer, looking him in the eyes. His father.

Your death at the hands of Nott Sr. ensured Nott Sr.'s death at the hands of his son. That was the first and last time that Theodore Nott would ever use the killing curse, and it only made sense for it to be on the person that used it on the two people who he had loved most in the world.

When the Battle of Hogwarts was over, most of Voldemort's supporters were dead, captured, or had fled the scene when it was evident that they were losing. But two Death Eaters stayed behind, simply because they couldn't bear to leave the castle like this. They felt it was partly their fault. Those two Death Eaters were Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire.

Whilst everyone gathered in the Great Hall, Enzo wandered the, now ruined, corridors of a place he loved so dearly. What he didn't expect to find his best friend, leaning on the crumbled wall of the Astronomy tower, cradling someone in his arms. Not to mention the fact that his father lay on the ground mere feet away.

"Please, Y/N, you can't be dead, you can't. I came back for you I-"

"Theo?" Enzo inquired, sitting on the floor next to his best friend, who was in fits of tears.

"He killed her, Enz. He killed her so- So I killed him. I had to."

"It's OK, Theo." Enzo replied, putting an arm around his friend's shoulder, and letting him cry.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, with the sound of everyone in the castle talking and grieving the loss of friends and family. The two could have been down there with them, celebrating the demise of the people who made their lives hell.

But instead, all Theodore Nott could think about is what should've been.

372 notes · View notes

azzandra · 6 months

Text

Recent commenters remarked on something I included in a fic, about the underlying reasons that Yue Qingyuan never tells Shen Qingqiu the truth, and why Shen Qingqiu never defends himself against false accusations. And the thing about that is that I think it comes from the same place. I think it's just a demonstration of the adage that the coping mechanisms that help you survive don't always help you thrive.

Because YQY and SQQ share the same trauma that causes them to be like this, frustratingly silent when it comes to speaking in their own defense. They both spent the entirety of their formative years being so completely under the power of other people, that they must have inevitably learned at some point that trying to defend themselves would be not only pointless, but probably invite even greater punishment from their masters.

We can see this most clearly with SQQ, because we know the kind of miserable life he had as a slave and then later as Wu Yanzi's accomplice/apprentice, so I think he gets more sympathy than YQY. But YQY was also a street urchin, was also a slave, and even after he joined Cang Qiong, it doesn't seem like he got a lot support or sympathy. He was imprisoned in a cave for a whole year, and that's like... obviously not something you do to a child you genuinely care for.

So being at the mercy of other people, all SQQ and YQY could do for the most part was just mitigate the amount of suffering they brought down on themselves. Endure and try not to provoke the people abusing them into coming down on them even harder.

But the thing is that both SQQ and YQY both developed this, like, survival instinct where any time they have an opportunity to defend or explain themselves, there's a blaring alarm in their brain that goes 'DANGER DANGER' stopping them from even considering it. And I doubt they're even aware of it, I doubt if you asked them they'd even be able to articulate why they stay silent even when it's to their detriment. It's become steeped into their personality that it just feels like the natural reaction to them. If they spoke they'd just make it worse.

So, I don't really feel the same anger or frustration at YQY for never telling SQQ the truth. I think on some level, he might have genuinely felt that explaining himself would make everything much worse.

#svsss #yue qingyuan #shen jiu

558 notes · View notes

rekaning · 9 months

Text

Not A Peep | Original Siblings x Mute!Child!reader

CW: Canon-typical violence, implied abuse of a child

Elijah watched as his brother tore into the man's throat. It was savage and gruesome and entirely unnecessary when draining him of his life blood would have sufficed.

Complete overkill.

And yet, Elijah reveled in the man's pained and horrified screams. Basked under the knowledge that all his cries for help were in vain. No one would be around for miles, Elijah himself had made sure of that.

"You couldn't contain yourself for one more bloody minute, Nik?"

Elijah let his gaze drift over to the stomping figure of his sister.

Rebekah's glare passed between both of her brothers but ultimately settled on Klaus, who held the whimpering man by the back of his bloodied neck.

Klaus rolled his eyes, scowl prominent, made more impressive with the fresh coating of blood dripping down his chin onto his navy blue Henley shirt.

"Why are you here Rebekah? I thought I told you to stay back with—"

His words caught in his throat as he spotted the small figure that had hidden behind his sister.

Wide, innocent eyes looked over in his direction before settling on the victim at Klaus' feet.

Elijah quickly strode over and blocked the young girl's view of the barbaric scene. He placed a gentle touch onto her tiny shoulder, his face devoid of the satisfaction it once held when looking at the man's bloodied form, and morphed into warm adoration as his brown eyes met the young girl's.

"You shouldn't be here, Baby Bird." His tone was soft and soothing. The young girl looked up at him, her eyes fluttering shut in contentment as Elijah's large calloused hands stroked her hair.

Rebekah huffed from behind the small girl, her hands landing pointedly on her hips, "That's what I told her!"

"So, pray tell, sister, why she's not where she's supposed to be?" Klaus growled from behind Elijah, the elder Mikaelson silently asking that same question with the hard look he threw to his little sister.

Before Rebekah could respond at her brother's unwanted tone, movement from the youngest of them caused the retort on the tip of her mouth to die out.

The young girl stood back from Elijah's gentle caresses as she moved her hands deftly, signing to the tall vampire before her.

Please don't be mad at her. I told her I would start to cry if she didn't let me.

Klaus had stepped away from the bloodied man he'd been maiming, leaving his trembling body where it was, confident that his prey wouldn't move from his spot on the ground. He'd moved closer to his brother once he'd wiped the remnants of blood from his chin, and caught sight of the child's signing.

Her wide eyes looked over to him the instant he came within view. Her eyes pleading for him to reserve his anger and judgment from Rebekah.

The hybrid knelt before her, hands reaching to cup her tiny face. Her small hands grasped his wrists and she nuzzeled her cheek against his right hand, a serene smile forming on her lips. Her eyes shone with such unconditional love and admiration for the vampire-werewolf before her, that Klaus himself found it difficult to maintain his irritation at Rebekah's failure to keep the child away.

"You still shouldn't be here, Little Wing. Elijah and I wish to keep you away from these...incidents."

Her brows furrowed and her lips formed into a pout. She slowly stepped away from his warm hands and began to sign once again.

Are you going to kill him?

Klaus looked over to his siblings briefly. Unspoken conversation passing between the three with ease. Centuries of sticking together through all manner of situations made them experts in the small tells and movements their siblings had.

Elijah was the one to answer, as he, too, genuflected before the child, tenderly taking her hand and resting it upon his lifted knee, stroking small circles on the back of her hand, "He must pay for the suffering and torment he has inflicted upon you, sweetling. He is not worthy of your compassion."

While she could see the form of said man from over Elijah's shoulder, the elder vampire held her full attention as she answered back.

I'm a bad person, too.

The three siblings went rigid at the girl's confession. Rebekah, mimicking her brothers as she fell to her knees at the young girl's side. She stroked a hand across the child's hair, "You are not. Why would you say something like that?"

Tears formed along the ridge of her wide eyes as she eyed each sibling before looking down at her hands before responding.

I'm not compassionate. I don't feel bad for him. I hate him. Doesn't that make me bad?

Their reactions were immediate. Each Mikaelson placed a hand upon the child in comfort. Rebekah held her right hand, Klaus held her left hand, and Elijah cupped her cheek once more.

"It makes you human, sweetling." Elijah's smooth baritone assured her warmly. his warm brown gaze held her own as he continued, "He has hurt you in a way no parent ever should. You have every right to hate him. That doesn't make you bad."

A single tear escaped from her eye. Klaus wiped it away with his finger. The child looked over at his brilliant blue hues.

"I can make you forget, if you wish."

Rebekah and Elijah looked at their brother sharply. Their protest dying on their lips as he held a hand up for them to allow him to finish.

His Little Wing cocked her head in confusion.

"I can make it so you would believe we compelled him to leave. That he packed his stuff and that he left this town, leaving you forever and never looking back." The hybrid glanced back at the passed out form of the man before turning his focus back toward the child, his eyes cold and unwavering, "I will make him suffer and beg for forgiveness. And he will die tonight."

His grip on her small hand tightened just a smidge, "I have killed and maimed for less, Little Wing. What he has done to you...it is unforgivable. My anger shall be your justice, my hands will deliver your judgment, but you need not remember this, if it will be a burden on your mind."

The girl looked down at her feet. The swell of adoration and love that bloomed across her chest was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. The fact that these three people, these vampires were showing her the love and care that she had sought from her father for years since her mother's death, was slightly overwhelming but it filled her heart with endless joy.

She thought back to all her moments with her father and the reality that every memory that crossed her mind was one of pain, hurt, or sadness sealed away any thoughts of redemption for him. Klaus was right. The knowledge of his death would haunt her mind. She didn't know if she was ready to carry that consciously with her, so she looked at him, eyes brimming with tears as she nodded her head, the hand Rebekah held coming free as she signed.

I want to forget.

He nodded. Elijah and Rebekah said nothing. Their brother had been kind enough to give the girl a choice and her decision had been made. So, they said nothing as Klaus turned the girl away from the body of her father. His blue eyes captured her gaze as he compelled the child.

Elijah and Rebekah stood from their kneeling, circling around so that the child would not glance back and see the bloody scene behind her.

Rebekah mumbled to her eldest brother, "I'm staying. I want to get a couple of hits in before Nik finishes him."

Elijah glanced briefly at his baby sister before staring back at the child, "Do throw in a few punches on my behalf. Perhaps a broken femur?"

The blonde woman smiled at his request, "Of course, brother."

Klaus stood from his position, their small ward's hand held in his. He looked to Elijah, having heard Rebekah's declaration of staying here.

"Sleepy yet, Baby Bird?" Elijah asked warmly.

As if on cue, the young girl yawned adorably wide. Her nose scrunched up cutesy as she blinked tiredly at the eldest brother. She smiled sheepishly before lifting her arms up in a clear sign for him to carry her.

Elijah did so without question, his arms securing her to his form. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she settled her head in the crook of his neck.

"We'll see you soon, Little Wing." Klaus whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Sleep well, Birdie." Rebekah muttered as she placed a gentle kiss to the child's crown.

After quick glances of assurance to his siblings, Elijah sped away from the crime scene.

#the originals x reader #the mikaelson siblings #elijah mikealson x reader #klaus mikealson x reader #rebekah mikealson x reader #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #mute!reader

694 notes · View notes

weebsinstash · 9 months

Text

As much as I want to have children by this man, let's take a moment to sip our platonic yandere Miguel juice

-i can't decide which sex he'd be more partial to in a 'child'/you since in the movie there was Gabriella but in the comics he eventually has a son who becomes the next Spiderman but--

-as a girl i just naturally think of a lot of those sorts of gender specific ideas 👉👈 he's this big scary hulking intimidating threat and his "daughter" is the one melting his cold exterior

-doesnt matter if you're a grown ass woman, Miguel sees you struggling to braid your hair and suddenly here he is, full dad mode, doing it for you,and depending on how close you two are, maybe he disguises it with "ugh, stop spending so much time messing around with that. If I do it for you will you get back to work? 🙄", but really it's just your new self proclaimed dad/tio wanting to help braid your hair and help you feel pretty and, oh, how he can fondly remember the last time he helped braid "his daughter's" hair...

-of course this evolves to him just loving to do things with your hair. Braid it, wear it natural, style it, use products on it, hes got you. you were just trying to put your hair in a lazy updo like a ponytail or bun and this man doesn't let you leave until he's got you completely combed out, hair braided with ribbons, and of course this entire time youre awkwardly sitting there in a chair in his absolute cave of a workstation with this gargantuan 6'9 man there, "so how was your day? Staying out of trouble?"

-really I mean. Is stealing other people's kids NOT technically in character for him. You're unfortunate enough to trauma bond with this man and you're never getting rid of him

-you hear Miles Morales call him tio (as in the tio meaning dude) and you jokingly teasingly start calling him tio, which Miguel secretly pretends is the version that means uncle. You're just constantly joking around or looking up at him with these big pouty eyes, "but tio 🥺 can't I PLEASE--" and its like. Lmao people know that if they need to ask Miguel for a favor, that it increases their chances to have you ask in their stead

- I mean, as a female adult abused as a child by my own father, raised by a single mom myself, like...

Reader flinches away when Peter B goes to give you a supportive pat on the back or comes in for a high five after a mission and you force yourself to laugh because you're feeling more than just a little awkward and in the spotlight. "Oh, sorry, that was dumb!" And they eventually get you to kind of anxiously word vomit "my dad used to just kind of, rough me up sometimes when I did something wrong! It-it could've been a lot worse honestly, but, it-it just makes me kinda jumpy around guys sometimes! It's not a big deal, or personal or anything. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad 🥺"

Peter B, Jessica, and Miguel all there as older parental figures and also literal parents, immediately exchange looks and agree like "oh hell naw, don't like that" and you get silently adopted by all three of em right then and there

-if it's a physically abusive father and you're still the victim of abuse, I imagine your dad had some suspicious figures suddenly show up in the middle of the night to terrify and threaten the shit out of him and suddenly you aren't getting as manhandled anymore

-can you imagine, like, you show up to Spider Society one day with a black eye "oh, this? It's, it's nothing. My dad is just, he's about to make police captain and he's really stressed about it is all" cue all your friends mentally high fiving around the table because your abusive piece of shit dad is going to die and you don't even know. When it happens they'll all be "oh no, sweetie, I'm SOOOO sorry :(" meanwhile they're thrilled bc now you don't have any parents and they can weasel in there as your new family, schedule your birthday parties, monopolizing more of your time, things like that

-goddd I just imagine it could become some kind of weird fucked up enmeshed scenario where the structure it's providing for your life is actually good for you meanwhile Miguel is like, retroactively kind of soothing some of his trauma both from his own childhood and what happened with the second universe he broke that it's just like. You're a grown ass adult and this man is tucking you in goodnight and saying "te amo, mija" at the doorway and you bet his ass is going to stand there and not let you sleep until you say it back. He knows you're just absolutely seething at him and he'll still refuse to leave without a grumbling "te amo, papá 🙄"

-He eventually just has you doing so much shit and depending on him so much that it starts to become second nature to you. one day you're in the Society doing one of the odd jobs you're allowed to help with and suddenly you're thinking, "Ugh I actually don't know what to do next, I wish Papá was here to-- WAIT SHIT NO I MEAN MIGUEL--"

-lmaooooo as a non Spanish speaker I keep thinking of how awwwwwful it would be if he actually forces you to learn Spanish. Not inherently because there's anything wrong with Spanish, but, I'm not always smart, and I can just SEE him quizzing your ass, forcing you to have entire conversations in Spanish, always clicking his tongue or chuckling at you when you make a mistake and he just thinks you're so cute struggling to learn 🥰 man hears you're trying to take extra lessons from Miles and he instantly drops everything he's doing to go track the little scamp down. Insert meme "I can forgive being an anomaly but I draw the line at teaching Reader bad Spanish"

-siiiiiiigh eventually the day comes when you're in big danger and you need his help, maybe you disobeyed him and was hanging out with some other Spiders in another dimension when there was a sudden villain attack, and he comes to your rescue as a villain does something dramatic like has a gun to your head or a knife to your neck and the second you see him you're just overwhelmed wirh a sense of relief, calling out for him, calling him dad/tio/papá whatever, and he's just like 😭❤️ pumping his fist internally, like YES you are so grounded when you get back home but also 🥰 you finally called him dad without him having to twist your arm 🥰 nevermind if the "villain" who kidnapped you was actually a Spider who owed him a favor, and this whole thing was to teach you a lesson about listening to your Papá, that's not important ❤️

-Miguel who forces you to learn Spanish vs Miguel who forces you to be Catholic. I can excuse kidnapping and forced adoption but I draw the line at making me practice religion 💀 no but seriously, he probably does have certain morals and values he instills/forces upon you if he thinks you need them, and he'll probably be one of those fathers, "are you leaving the house dressed like that? Go change" and orders you not to hang out with certain people he doesn't approve of or thinks have bad character (like hobie lmao)

-bruh you two will be on a super serious important mission and this man will be like "it's dark, hold my hand so we dont get separated"

Eventually it comes to a point where you're, not perfectly behaved but, just about. If someone finds Miguel, it means you're not very far away, or vice versa. Members of the Society quickly learn not to make any advances on you or make any "adult" comments unless they want to get suspiciously hurt during a personal training session by the big boss himself. You think you're safe just cause Miguel isn't around? Nah, cause then you have Peter B and Jess keeping an eye on you, and, not that YOU'RE aware of the extent, but, if Miguel ever gets worried, he can just ask Lyla what you've been getting up to, since your modified little daypass has her installed into it and she can track your every move ❤️ helicopter parent? Oh honey, you have NO idea...

#yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere stuff #sinprompts

555 notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 2 months

Text

Unrequited Understanding

Norlestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Her father comes back into her life as a replacement race engineer. Now she can't escape him and his voice when she does the one thing she thought he couldn't touch.

Warnings: eating disorder, abuse, past child abuse, sef harm, suicide attempt

Notes: for @ashiekins, I hope you like it! I'M SORRY FOR THE ENDING I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

January

The new year had never felt so sweet. Her victory with Max and Redbull had been a dream. Max taking another championship, had the entire team walking on cloud nine.

She spent new years with her boys. It's tradition at this point to messily kiss all together as the new year comes around.

They'd done so much for her. She's come so far in her journey.

"What are you thinking about, Love?" Neither her nor Lando could sleep. Most nights, they end up talking to get the heavy thoughts to lessen a bit. It's why they get one half of the bed to themselves.

"How nice it feels to know I'm still here and loved." She rests her head on Lando's chest, the steady rythme of his heart lulling her into a restful state.

"Life wouldn't be the same without you." He kisses the top of her head as her mind finally gives into sleep.

February

Her and Max sit together at the large conference table. The factory is preparing for the new season. Energy is running high, and she can feel it crackling in the atmosphere.

Christian talks about how excited he is for the new season. 2023 is going to be theirs to dominate. Adrian has been working tirelessly to give them a title worthy car.

"We have had to make some last-minute changes to the team, unfortunately." Christian makes eye contact with her, and the good feeling she had dissolves. "Your race engineer has fallen terminally ill and is being hospitalized. The good news is we've found a last-minute replacement."

The door opens, and she feels the air leave her lungs. Her body shakes in fear of the man who takes confident strides to his chair.

Christian introduces them, clearly not understanding that they know each other very well. The man is her father, after all.

She has her mother's last name. Intent on separating herself from him entirely. He'd been doing Indie car for years. She never thought he'd make the switch after how they left things.

Max shoots her a concerned look, but she shakes it off. None of the boys had ever seen what her father looks like. They don't know she changed her last name.

She has no intention of ruining a good season because of her petty emotions. So, she says nothing.

March

It's not as bad as she thought it would be. They don't interact much aside from talking about data and while she's in the car.

The underhanded comments make her thoughts reel. The constant questioning of her skill while she's driving makes her think she's crazy. Her father is too good at making it look like a joke. People laugh with him, not understanding he means what he says.

He talks over her, cuts her off, bosses her around like she's still a child. She shrinks in on herself every time he cones around.

Stay silent and listen. That's what got her through her childhood. Just don't make him angry.

He lashes out when he's angry.

Charles is there when a nightmare causes her to be sick. A memory of her childhood that haunts her still.

The Monegasque holds her hair up and rubs her back as she sobs. He makes her a warm drink and holds her, letting her wet tears soak into his shirt.

"Do you want to talk about it, mon chéri?" He whispers gently against her forehead.

She inhales, breath catching in her throat as she does. "My dad, he - well - he used to say I'd never be anything. I sometimes dream about the memory."

"Your father and Jos can fuck off." Charles cups her face with his hands. "You are amazing. Whatever he told you is a lie. You've proven yourself to the world. Your younger self can rest knowing she got you here, that you are safe and loved and enough."

April

It's getting worse by the day. She's not sure where her father got the idea that he could order her around like she's still five and karting. It's getting annoying and ridiculous.

He's taken to snatching any food out of her hand and tossing it away into the nearest bin. What a waste. He could've eaten it himself.

He keeps telling her the car is too heavy. The data doesn't show that, but whatever. Her food being taken from her like when she was young was not how she expected the season to go. She takes to not eating because it's easier than fighting with him.

Her physio keeps asking her about why her weight seems to be plummeting recently. Even trying to get it back on her with altered meal plans. The concerns get brought up later in a meeting with Christian. The severity of her condition being made apparent.

Max watches her sob over a salad. She can tell he wants to push, asked what is causing the relapse. Understand where her head is at.

He hands her a water bottle and waits until she drinks the entire thing. "It's okay to struggle, but please don't shut us out. You don't have to do this alone, alright?"

She doesn't respond, simply collapses into his patient arms.

May

Lando and Charles happened to be passing by at the worst time. The Redbull garage still buzzing with the excitement of Max's podium and her mediocre result compared.

They saw her race engineer laying into her about every mistake. No other staff around to hear the conversation. Her head hung in shame as he pointed out every flaw.

Charles interrupts with such ease. He says her PR officer was looking for her earlier. It gets her to excuse herself from the conversation, leaving the two boys with her engineer.

"Mind your own business next time," scoffs the older man. He leaves the younger two confused.

Charles takes in Lando's mildly anxious body movements. "Something isn't right, Charles. She had that same look from when we were rookies."

Charles hums in agreement. "We'll have to wait for her to come to us for now."

June

The underhanded comments are getting progressively worse. People have started noticing that something is off about her race engineer and his behavior towards her.

Meetings are difficult and the team is walking on eggshells. Max looks ready to explode and has been ripping her father to pieces after every comment. He gets in trouble, so she asks him to stop.

She doesn't mind. Her whole life has been taking this kind of behavior from him. Max knows better than anyone that it's best to respect that kind of ask.

"I'm here if things ever get to a point where you want it to stop. I will always be here for you."

July

Her wight combined with her self-harming habits are making it harder to drive. Somewhere in her head she knows she can't continue like this. The car no longer works with her.

Christian keeps pulling her into his office and asking her about where she's at. Warning her the if she continues down this road, she won't be able to drive. That he'll be forced to find a replacement.

She cries as the boys hold her. She tells them she's not sure if she can do it anymore, that she's not cut out for this sport. They comfort and reassure her that's a lie.

Her thoughts remain stuck on being a burden to them. She gets better just to fall once more into her old habits. They have careers and goals that would be easier to achieve without her around.

Maybe her father is right about her after all.

August

The summer break brings them a much-needed reprieve from the fast-paced world they live in. She gets to spend time away from the incessant voice of the man she hates. Her boys occupying her mind instead.

There is a finality about this that she can't explain. Like things can only get better from here on out. That something in her future is going to bring her the one thing she's looking for.

Swimming in the ocean and eating what they want. They laugh and joke like nothing has changed. It's the first time in months that she feels normal.

This is how things should be. The smile on her face is genuine and the boys can all tell.

September

The cuts line her skin in an unorganized fashion. Angry, red, and bleeding. Her race had been ended early due to a collision. She'd been collateral damage; it wasn't her fault.

The media didn't see it that way. Her father definitely had no mercy when he mercilessly explained how she will never be good enough as a driver.

Hidden away in her drivers' room now, watching the blood pour from her skin. The boys know, they've seen the fresh lines. They are trying to find a way to get her to stop, but these feeling are fighting back harder than ever before. She's not sure how to fight them anymore.

Disappearing seems like the best option. The only way she'll be able to escape the dark thoughts swirling in her head. The one place her father won't be able to touch her anymore will be in her death.

She moans as the blade digs deeper. The ecstasy that accompanies addiction is a feeling she will always crave. Sick satisfaction bubbles in her throat and pour out on her eyes as red stains the floor.

This wasn't her plan, but it's okay. The pain makes all her thoughts go away. Lessens the weight on her chest. Forces her mind to focus on something else.

Everything is spinning and then it goes dark.

Warm hands and comforting words. That's all she's ever wanted.

October

The boys can see how sick she is. Max won't let her be alone in the garage. Not after she almost died.

Her physio is with her when none of the boys are. They keep asking her questions that she won't give answers to.

It's not until an altercation with her father is finally caught. He's condemning her over the radio while she's driving. They'd had an argument earlier about how she should be taking turn three.

The public execution is miserable. Still, she puts her head down and drives.

The second-place trophy has never felt heavier. It drags her arms downwards as she heads to the garage with Max. He doesn't know about what happened yet and she hopes it stays that way. She screams as she puts it away in her room.

She avoids her father as much as possible on the way to the press conference. The glimpse she does get of him leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Christian looks angry as he presses a finger into her father's chest.

She's zoned out majority of the conference. Until A journalist with a soft voice is asking about her feelings towards her race engineer.

"It's just how things are sometimes. I wasn't listening to instructions, and he was frustrated. It happens." She shrugs it off like this is the most normal everyday occurrence. Which, in her defense, it kind of is.

Every media outlet seems to want to know more about it. Her emotions are struggling to remain contained. the inevitable sobs escape after a particularly worded question about whether his actions could be considered abuse or not.

She breaks, collapsing in the middle of the media pen. Her boys are there blocking the view of the cameras as her body fails to move.

They know now what has been happening. Her secret is out there for everyone to see.

November

Her father is fired from the team with immediate effect. Christian apologizes relentlessly for not knowing and not seeing it sooner.

The media is asked to refrain from asking about the incident and anything regarding her past race engineer. They respect it, probably wanting to avoid another meltdown in the middle of an interview.

Max, Lando and Charles are with her through every step of the way. They encourage her to talk to them and she does. It feels nice not having to hold in her family secrets.

They want to help her, and she wants to be helped.

Her race engineer for the end of the season ends up taking the job for next year. He's kind and keeps his voice calm. Her last few drives amaze everyone.

The top step of the podium has never felt so good. She didn't need to prove herself to anyone, but the confidence it brings her is hard to deny.

Closure feels even better.

December

Her therapist is proud of her for opening up to the boys more. They don't push her to spill everything, but they encourage her when she does.

The end of the year pulls them closer together. After everything that happened, she wasn't sure she was going to see 2024 come around. She's glad she does though.

She fought to the end. She made it to her peace. A place where her father can't touch.

Warm hands and gentle words for all of eternity.

January... Again

Three boys stand in front of a grave. Her favorite flowers in hand. The silence stretches between them. None of them know how to proceed.

The memory of finding her on the floor replays in Max's head. He should've known to find her right after the race. That cold September afternoon in Zandvoort. The day she bled out for one final time.

Charles and Lando assure Max it's not his fault. IT hadn't been her plan. There was no note, not even a warning sign aside from her mental health declining.

Her father, who they now know was the catalyst for her relapse, is in jail. Christian made sure to get him put away so the boys wouldn't have to worry about it.

The other drivers came to the funeral. The journalists respect their wishes not to speak on the matter. They need to heal before they can even think about trying to explain how all three of them had taken time off.

The FIA pushed the races back since Redbull needed to sort things out. The memorial on the track has been visited by everyone on the team.

They tried so hard. They wanted her to stay. They can only hope that she found what she needed in whatever lies beyond this life.

321 notes · View notes

thewalkingwillowtree · 3 months

Text

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 24.

Xilä is my own creation.

Part 19 - Awa'atlu

Legs dangling from her perch, Xilä unseeingly stared out at the flowing mass of water before her. Thick tree roots canopied over the span of the pool and its perimeter- hiding the area from natural light. It made the vegetation littering around her glow even brighter in the dim forest.

Xilä was lost in thought, mulling over the words Jxo had just spilled. Processing.

“I’m not sorry I killed him,” he had said after telling her what he’d done.

Jxo killed T'shteyo.

Jxo killed T'shteyo!

“Do you hate me?” the elder asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

Xilä blinked, then, head snapping so fast to the man seated next to her, a firm, “No.” left her lips. “Never, Jxo. I could never hate you. I don’t- I’m not-” she heaved a breath, “I’m trying to wrap my head around it, is all. I- look, thank you for telling me… it’s just, I thought maybe he’d died some other way… or maybe even-”

Jxo nodded in understanding, he could tell she was trying not to spiral. So he backed off a bit to let her work out her thoughts.

It was a couple weeks after her and Neteyam’s housewarming and he’d been putting off telling her his side of what went down in Li’ona- or what he’d done specifically.

At first, Salveen didn’t think that he should- she thought it would mess with her healing process, but Jxo thought it felt wrong keeping it from her.

He glanced at his wife who was nervously wringing her fingers around as she sat quietly near them. When the silence became too stifling, she nudged him. “Go on,” she mouthed silently, signalling him to continue with a covert jerk of her chin towards their youngest.

“Xilä… when Neteyam first brought you to Sal and I, I vowed to protect you as if you were my own. And then you did- become one of mine. Doesn’t matter how quickly it all happened. Sal and D’avi have always been my world… and now you’re a part of it too. Permanently. You're my kid. Mine and Sal's, in every way that it matters. You look at me with the same eyes as my D’avi. You trust me, don’t you?”

“I do,” Xi replied, a bit choked up.

“Good. So, I’m telling you this in the hopes you won’t hate me for it, but also so I keep that trust you have in me. I may be an old man, darling, but I will always, always fight for you.”

Xi’s tears fell freely now. Head bowed she fell into Jxo’s arms, hoping her hug conveyed her love for him.

A pair of slim arms wrapped around the two of them and the sweet smell of the one and only Sal filled her senses.

When she eventually pulled away, Sal cooed and awed over her, mothering away as though she were a small child. Xilä didn’t care. She smiled and soaked up the affection, feeling loved and wanted.

“Mind if I join in?” a voice called out.

Three heads flicked up to find a beaming D’avi hiding in the shadows of a massive plant, and she was eagerly welcomed into the fold.

Their little family spent the remainder of the afternoon in good spirits. Laughter filled the forest as they swapped story after story.

And at one point when D’avi divulged into a rather overly dramatic and hilarious tale of when Jxo threatened the first boy to ever show an interest in her, the three women had him outnumbered while he tried to justify himself.

Later that night when Xilä crawled into bed, and into her husband’s open arms, she breathed him in deeply, face buried into the crook of his neck.

“How’d it go?” he murmured.

“Good… I’m guessing you already know, but he- Jxo told me… what he did.”

“Hm… How do you feel about it?”

“I feel… maybe relieved?” She wiggled out from her hiding place and perched her chin on his chest, finding his gaze already on her. “There was always this really small part of me that thought he escaped Kayoanaska… I knew he’d be dead, but… I’d have always wondered whether- well doesn’t matter anymore, but there’s closure now, you know?”

Neteyam brushed her cheek with his thumb, tracing over the faint scar left there- forever a reminder.

“I get it. Did he also tell you I was going to do it at first? That I wanted to?”

She nodded.

“I was so mad, so angry. We both felt like we’d failed you… I’m not sorry about it either, I don’t ever think I will be.”

Xi’s lip quirked up a fraction. “That’s exactly what Jxo said. I’m a damn lucky girl to have you two in my life.”

A soft smile graced his lips and in one fluid motion he lifted her higher up the length of his frame to hug her close. “I think we’re the lucky ones, sweetheart. You have no idea.”

Four months later…

“Baby?!” Neteyam called out when he’d gotten home that night, wooden chimes clanking together when he pushed aside the flap of their tent.

“In here!”

Neteyam looked around at their somewhat untidy mainroom. It was clean, but he couldn’t help smirk at the scattered toys, strewn cushions and a very impressive looking blanket fort.

In hanging up his riding-satchel his feet tripped over an overstuffed pack- it was one of the many they’d be taking with them on their trip.

“Was Tuk over today?!” he asked out loud, making his way to their room, accidently stepping on a little wooden figurine with an, “ow, shit,” under his breath.

“Yeah, she and the twins spent the day with me and we- ! Oh hi,” she ended in a blushing whisper when she caught sight of him staring at her from their bedroom entryway.

“Hi…Well don’t you look all cute and comfy,” he mused, taking in his wife’s relaxed position.

Xi was cozied up in their bed while she sewed, propped up against a mass of cushions. A bowl of a variety of fruit sat beside her and soft music played from his personal tablet.

She grinned, stretching her neck up to meet him halfway when he made his way to her side of their hammock and leaned over to peck her lips. “Hi, handsome.”

“Mmm, hi baby,” he hummed, cupping her nape to deepen their kiss before standing tall again. “Did Tuk not have school today?” he wondered as he moved around their room, removing and putting away his articles- jewelry, arm and leg braces, visor, warrior belt.

“She took a sick day,” Xi shrugged, “One day won’t hurt anyone. And today was my day off anyway, so she, me and the twins had a blast. You just missed her. Kiri picked her up.”

“Oh.”

Chewing on a piece of fruit, Xilä stared unabashedly as her husband began to remove his loincloth.

“Three kids, huh? I wonder what that's like?” he half joked, flinging his loincloth into their hamper before starting to splash water on his mud and grime speckled skin from a filled basin in the corner of the room.

Xi tossed a seed at him, hitting square on his left butt cheek which only made him laugh harder.

“Spider came around for lunch too,” she commented, turning back to the cloak she’d abandoned in her lap.

“Is he still sulking?”

“No- well… maybe a little. I think your dad letting him come on the trip is a good thing though. I know he misses Lo’ak. It’s been months.”

“Mhm. Oh yeah and I’m sure he’s also all too eager to cozy up all over my sister on the journey too, right?”

Xilä tossed another seed at her husband. “Be nice. He’s been having a hard time, okay? Kiri’s been getting a lot of attention lately and he’s… adjusting.”

Neteyam grumbled. “Oh don’t remind me. Tasam’s not as slick as he thinks he is either. What exactly is the dynamic there?” he asked, pausing his washing up to fix a frown at his mate.

“Kiri is your sister, handsome. Do you really want me to tell you about the details her love life?”

“Love. Life?!” he exclaimed in horror. “You know what, no. I think I’m good. In any case this is all your sister’s fault.”

Xilä chuckled but didn’t deny the accusation.

Humming softly to the beat of a familiar tune, she made another loop, stab and pull- just the way Sal had taught her, making sure the stitch was as perfect as possible before doing it all over again. She was putting the final touches on a riding cloak that she was excited to wear on their travels.

When Neteyam finished drying off, he prowled towards her in all his naked glory and snaked between her blanket covered thighs.

“How was your day?” she asked softly, one hand abandoning her project to gently stoke up the length of his ear with her thumb. He shivered, just the way she knew he would.

Neteyam released a frustrated groan at the reminder of his day’s events while burrowing his face into the space between her breasts, arms tightening around her waist.

She hissed quietly under her breath at the slight ache and tenderness of her chest but left him in his position.

“Busy. We had a hunt, and lots of last minute arrangements to make before we set off tomorrow,” he sighed, “amongst other things.”

“You sound upset, handsome. Do you want to talk about it?”

Xi moved her sewing and fruit bowl to the side so that she could stroke his hair, palms soothing along the smooth skin of his shoulders and back over and over.

Only after a few long minutes did Neteyam begin his rant.

“A few from the council are back on their bullshit. I had to sit through hours of fuckery today. I swear my dad needs to pull rank and get rid of Fe’ska and her minions. They’re so stuck in their ways and refuse to see the bigger picture! I’m telling you, baby, if I were Olo'eyktan, they’d be gone already.”

“What happened?”

He laid his cheek against her chest, allowing her heartbeat to lull him into calm before continuing.

“They were fighting some of the changes dad’s trying to put in place.”

“What? Which ones?”

“The clan outreach program. They’re fighting our ideas for the sharing of resources, the cross training, the communication set ups. All of a sudden they are questioning years of planning, and right before we set off?”

“Didn’t they agree to it all already, months ago? What changed?”

Neteyam groaned again, the sound vibrating through her body like a rippling wave.

“Who knows? It could be spiteful for all I know. I wouldn’t be surprised if Fe’ska’s just trying to sabotage the entire operation. Eywa knows the woman can hold a grudge. It’s all settled now, but not after a shit ton of back and forth. After the crap they tried to pull with me and Leati, I’m done defending them and following their ways blindly. I put my foot down today and I think they finally realized I’m no longer going to roll over and do their bidding whenever.”

A burst of pride filled Xilä’s chest as she listened to her husband and a happy noise escaped her.

“What, baby?”

“Nothing. I’m just listening to you talk and I have to tell you, I’m so proud of you, ‘Teyam. So very proud of how much you’ve grown.”

Her mate peered up at her with a tiny smile playing at his lips, tail gone lazy and laxed from its tense curl. “Well thank you, sweetheart.”

But then his expression turned from sweet and sincere into devious mirth. “I’m curious though. Just how proud are you?”

From his smile and unspoken intent, Xilä’s cheeks flushed and her nipples pebbled, arousal hitting her far more intense than she was used to.

Playing along, she bit her lip and stroked up the length of both his ears this time- body twitching in response to his shiver. “Maybe I should just prove it to you.”

Neteyam raised up on his palms to hover over her, lips brushing against her own. “What are you waiting for then?” he taunted. “Prove it.”

Grabbing his face in both hands, Xilä fused their lips together. Her kiss was demanding and determined to prove her point.

But just as quickly as she started, he was soon taking over control- kissing her in a way that made her weak.

Impatient, Neteyam pulled away the blanket dividing them, fingers greedily inching their way up the back of her thigh and under her skirt to squeeze at her butt.

Xilä mewled as he mouthed down the length of her throat, fangs and tongue leaving a blazing trail of heat.

“Oh sh- ah!” she gasped when he sharply nipped her collarbone.

In a flash, her top was untied and being torn off and then Neteyam was diving downward, lips parting with the intention of closing around a needy nipple.

He didn’t make it though.

Snapping backwards, his head tilted ever so slightly as his brows creased in confusion.

Was it his imagination or did her tits seem a little… different?

Were they fuller?

It was almost, almost unnoticeable, but the thing was… Neteyam had worshipped and memorized every inch of his wife’s body by now, so, of course he’d notice…

“What? Why’d you st-?” Xilä looked down at her own breasts then back at him. She rolled her eyes in amusement, misunderstanding his staring, thinking he was just savoring the image of them.

Feeling bold, she took advantage of his distracted state and at pushed at his chest until she was the one on top, straddling his lap.

“Nuh uh, you lost your chance. No touching,” she whispered against his lips, moving away the hands that automatically reached to grip her hips.

“Yes, touching,” he all but growled, sinking his fingers into her skin.

“No. Touching,” she ordered firmly, giving him a bruising kiss for good measure, breaking away to fix him with a look.

Neteyam frowned but obeyed anyway and then Xilä was kissing him again, only this time she was the one in control.

Hands on his cheeks, then creeping beneath his hair to grip his nape, she moved him to her liking- tongue punishing and dominant in a way she’d never been before.

Xi nipped the hinge of his jaw, sucked at the juncture of his neck and peppered tiny, almost featherlight kisses down his throat. And all the while, she ever so slowly rocked against the hard length pressed between her thighs.

Palms planted on his chest, she pushed him flat onto his back and grazed her fingertips purposely over his nipples. He shuddered and inhaled sharply from the action, so she did it again.

A sense of satisfaction filled her at the sight of him beneath her like this.

She felt powerful.

“Are you really not going to let me touch you?” he rasped, grumpily.

“Yep,” she replied in English, popping the P with a little giggle.

Flirtatiously biting her lip, she locked eyes with him whilst making slow, deliberate rolls of her hips, grinding down onto his bare shaft, making him grunt and buck up in response.

Neteyam raised onto his elbows, hips rocking in time with hers. She felt incredible, but he wanted- no, needed more.

“At least let me see you,” he begged.

Giving in, she lifted the bottom front of her skirt that was draped around them and tucked it into her waistband.

From his view, he could now see her clothed center working over his dick that laid flat on his abdomen. The thin fabric covering her was drenched, saturated in her slick and was now soaking him as she rotated between rocking back and forth and then rolling in tight, precise circles.

She paused and lifted up a little to pull the material to the side, allowing her to glide along him better with direct contact.

“Fuck.” Neteyam’s mouth watered. She was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. It was torment not being able to touch her.

“Mmm, you feel so good,” she sighed, eyes closing in bliss.

Xilä had them both moaning within seconds as her rhythm picked up speed, clit dragging right at the perfect angle.

“Baby-” he choked, jaw clenched and straining while he struggled not to burst.

Xi hissed when she cupped her breasts. Too pent up to make sense of the new sensation, she pinched and squeezed at sensitive mounds which caused her both mild discomfort and blinding pleasure.

“Oh shit, I’m coming!” Head thrown back and body gone taught, she reached her peak in a sweet symphony of melodic mewls and whines.

Neteyam groaned at the pretty smile she gave him when she shivered from an aftershock, still coming down from her high.

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me. Please let me touch you now. Please.”

Xi leaned over and pecked his lips. “Not just yet.”

He couldn’t help but squirm when she began moving downwards, sensually mouthing at his chest before venturing lower- her hair tickling him as she went. She was doing a damn swell job of pretending his dick wasn’t currently dragging along her skin, painting her with pre-cum.

Piercing silver eyes peered up at him as her tongue traced the lines of his abs. She swirled around his belly button painstakingly slow then mouthed lower and lower, before finally, finally planting a soft kiss right on the head of his seeping tip.

“Xilä!” His hips jumped on their own accord. He was painfully hard and her teasing ministrations weren’t helping one fucking bit. “Xilä-”

“No touching,” she said again, waiting patiently until he released her hair that he’d habitually fisted.

She smirked when his throat bobbed and nostrils flared, chest heaving from his deep breaths.

This was new for them. He was always the one in control and Xilä knew this must have been difficult for him. She on the other hand was ablaze in excitement.

Xi made herself comfortable between his thighs and swept her hair back. With another delicate kiss to him and tiny lick, she watched entranced as he twitched- the head of his dick angry and weeping in need.

Neteyam’s breathing came out in faster puffs and pants when she finally took him in her mouth, fingers barely completely squeezing around his base as she bobbed her head up and down. He was hot and heavy and delicious.

“Fuck! Fuck.” Neteyam surrendered. Elbows giving up and falling flat into their sheets, his head tipped back with a loud groan.

Xilä set a steady rhythm of licking, sucking and stroking- just the way he’d taught her. Neteyam was big, and no matter how much she relaxed her mouth and throat, she could never take all of him.

It never stopped her from trying though…

“Ngh! Shi- Fuck!” His moan sent a rippling vibration through her when she took him as deep as possible- breathing through her nose and holding him in her throat until her reflex kicked in.

Hollowing her cheeks, she released him with a messy pop, and still stroking, she watched him eagerly- watched the way his muscles tensed and tail coiled, watched the way his hips bucked and jaw hung open as he fisted their sheets and clenched his thighs- one arm flung over his closed eyes and furrowed brows.

She loved that he was so responsive- so vocal. It didn’t matter that her own body was begging to be touched- hot and aching and desperate for another release. Xilä was enjoying every minute of this.

“Where do you want to come?” she asked him, small fist still pumping his impressive length.

Thoughts scattered and hazy, he choked out an, “In you- inside you.”

She knew that would be his answer.

Releasing him, she crawled into his lap again, uncomfortably wet and throbbing between her thighs.

“Tsaheylu,” he urged.

Xi nodded and made the bond, sucking in air as the sensation washed over her. Every time.

“Xilä, if I’m not inside of you within the next three seconds I swear to Eywa I’m going to- gah! Shit!”

They moaned in unison when she sank down onto him- taking him by surprise when she took him all at once in one go, walls pulsing and clenching around him in a vice-like grip.

Stuffed full, she whimpered and, hand palming at the little bulge he always created in her stomach, she whined quietly as she adjusted.

“Baby?”

“I’m good,” she laughed through a wince. “Mmm, how many times are we going to do this before I remember that it keeps taking my breath away?”

He snickered, holding in a grunt while his eyes roamed over her. ‘Fucking gorgeous’ he thought. Her skirt fluttered around their thighs, hiding where they were joined, and he ached to tear it away.

“Sweetheart, you need to move,” he pleaded.

Xi nodded and then she was lifting up and dropping down again, using his abs for balance.

The build up she created had been so much by now that the pleasure was intense and all too consuming. Their room was filled with pants and gasps and sharp intakes of air as she moved.

It didn’t take long because the next thing he knew, he was coming. Hard. Groans and curses turned loud and maddening, he jerked beneath her- jaw clenching tightly as warmth erupted inside of her.

Xilä chased after him, fingers reaching down to strum her clit as her bouncing pace turned into a desperate grind. She collapsed over him the second she crested, teeth sinking into his bicep to muffle her scream as a powerful orgasm hit her in rolling waves.

Heavy breathing and shudders were the only sounds to be heard after that.

“Did I… was it good?” she asked as her body trembled and twitched in tiny jerks.

Neteyam snorted, snickering in between his own pants. “I’m fighting so damn hard to catch my breath after coming oh so fucking hard, and you my sweet wife, want to know if it… was good?”

Xilä hummed with a pleased smile, eyes closing in satisfying exhaustion.

“Can I touch you now?”

With a laugh muffled into his skin where she’d just bitten, she nodded. “Yes.”

One large hand instantly sank into her hair while the other gently dragged along her back. “That was- that was something else, baby. Fucking good…”

“But…?”

“But you’re in trouble, sweetheart. Big trouble.”

She grinned, already know that she was. “Yeah, I figured,” she yawned. “It was fun while it lasted. No spanking tonight though. I need to be able to fly Journey without wincing in pain.”

“Mmmm, you’re lucky we’re off to Awa'atlu tomorrow,” he teased, reaching down to fondle her ass.

“I’m excited,” she said for probably the hundredth time now. “I’ve never seen the ocean before.”

“You’ll love it. And well, we’ve been practicing your breathing and deep water diving, so you’ll be far better prepared than we were for our first time,” he murmured into her hair, fingers still idly playing with her braids.

“Hm, alright,” she said, blinking open her eyes. “Oh wow. I think I bit you too hard.” Xi frowned, fingertip tracing over the indentations of her teeth on his bicep. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t even notice.” He lifted his arm to see and barely blinked an eye at it.

Clanking sounds alerted them that someone was outside and Xi tensed.

“Are you expecting someone?”

“Crap, I forgot Si'dvol was dropping off my bow tonight.” Neteyam seriously did not want to move at all right now.

“Why does he have your bow?”

“The string was getting a bit loose. He’s the only one I trust with my bow anyway, so I asked him to do a full repair for me since we’ll be gone for so long. I got to move you, I’m sorry, baby.”

Xi whined unhappily from having to leave her comfortable sprawled position over his chest, but allowed herself to be manhandled out of it. She squirmed when his dick slipped out of her, instantly missing the stretch and fullness of him.

“Be right back,” he promised with a kiss to her jaw before rushing to snag on a loincloth.

Stretching out her limbs, Xi smiled to herself. She was blissfully happy and contentedly tired.

Neteyam’s poor tablet laid forgotten at the edge of their bed, so she mustered the strength to roll onto her stomach to reach for it and pressed the little play sign to resume whatever song it was last on.

Funny how she could somewhat use the device at last. She wanted to fling it away the first time Neteyam had tried teaching her to use it. She could never understand why all the strange symbols were so difficult to click.

Cheek resting on her folded forearms, she listened to the soft strumming sounds of the music, tail waving in time with the beat, while her eyes drooped.

By the time her mate returned to their bed, his hands were instantly back on her. “Why are these still on?” he grumbled, easing off her skirt and soaked undercloth from behind and flinging them across the room.

“Mmm.” Xi arched when his fingers found her center to quickly and carefully push back in any escaping droplets.

He was extra thorough lately, especially ever since their discussion and agreement to officially start a family together. Sure she had been careless with her tea before, but they’d been only actively trying for about a month now.

When he slumped down next to her, she cuddled into his side eagerly, nose finding its favourite place, squished under his jaw.

One arm supporting her head and the other flung across her waist, he tugged her flush against him. He was hard, and wanted her again, but when he heard her yawn for the third time, he backed out of initiating a second round.

“What are you looking forward to the most when we get to Awa’atlu?” she asked him.

“Seeing Lo’ak again. I missed the skxawng,” he chuckled. “And the sea. I can’t wait to go exploring again. What about you?”

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot actually. Your grandmother said that the Metkayina have a unique way of healing... Do you think their Tsahìk would teach me a few things if I asked?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“What is she like though?”

“Ronal? Mm, I think maybe Ronal’s much like my grandmother. Both are stern and no nonsense, but if you know my grandmother, you’d know she’s nothing but a big ole softy. You’ll be fine.”

“M’kay,” she mumbled sleepily.

Later that night as Xilä slept, Neteyam couldn’t help but stare at her, utterly mesmerized and devastatingly in love.

Shuffling downward he pushed aside the blanket he’d covered her with and pressed a kiss to her flat stomach, silently mouthing a prayer to Eywa.

He was very much looking forward to their future together as parents.

“You need to tighten that strap,” Neteyam ordered to the wrangler who was helping him ready Xilä’s ikran for their travels ahead, “and double knot the harness ties. They’re too slack, she can go sliding right off.”

He gained a “yes, sir” in response.

Neteyam checked over the secureness of the packs strapped to the ikran’s hide, pulling and tugging to make sure everything stayed in place before rounding to her front.

He patted her neck and tossed her a treat with a whispered, “Take good care of our girl out there, yeah?”

Journey purred when he scratched a spot under her jaw, nipping at his fingers as if asking for more treats.

A baby's shriek had him glancing over to where Xi was standing. She was surrounded by her family who had come to see her off- baby L’eo in her arms with a handful of her hair in his drooling mouth.

Sal was hugging her over and over again every few minutes and D’avi seemed to be talking a mile a minute, making Xi laugh while Yalnïk and Jxo hovered- the elder cradling a sleeping L’eya.

Jake approached his son with every intention of asking for a status report, but observing the way Neteyam’s brow crinkled in thought, he asked instead, “Everything alright, son?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, everything’s…” Neteyam shut his mouth and shook his head. “Dad, can I ask you a personal question?”

“‘Course, kid.”

“When you and mom… uh,” he struggled to find the right words. “When did- crap,” he heaved a breath then spewed, “How long did it take to find out that mom was pregnant? I mean- like as in, how long did it take… for you guys?”

“Oh. Ohh.” Jake’s brows rose high up at the question. “Ah, well for the first time, maybe just a couple of weeks? We found out about you right after the battle against the RDA, so a surprise, but not long at all.”

Neteyam nodded, swallowing down his disappointment. “Right,” he cleared his throat, “thanks.”

“But for Tuk,” Jake added quickly, “we didn’t even know for sure until your mother started showing.”

He squeezed Neteyam’s shoulder, “Son, it’s different for every couple and each pregnancy of its own is unique. Sometimes- sometimes it can take a while to happen.”

“I know. I really do, I’m just-” Unable to help himself, he grinned, thoughts drifting to an image of his mate swollen and round with his baby- their baby.

Impatient. He was terribly excited and impatient.

Jake released an amused huff as if he could read his thoughts. “You’ll be a great father, Neteyam.”

His head flicked up in surprise at his dad. “You think so?”

“No. I know so, kid.” His head jerked to Xilä. “She knows it too.”

“Thanks, dad,” he replied, chest light and grateful. “Did you want to go over the final report now?”

Halfway through his update, both men were distracted by a sound. Kiri’s giggle had them glancing over to her, which was weird because well, Kiri never giggled- at least, not like that.

“Disgusting right?” Spider scowled, coming up beside them as they all stared at Kiri and her admirer.

“Mm. I don’t like it,” Jake frowned with folded arms.

“Me neither,” Neteyam rasped deeply. “Are they-”

“No,” Spider answered before he could ask. “But he’s always around now. Can’t you leash him? He’s your friend.”

“Always around? You mean this isn’t new? When did this shit start?” Jake demanded.

They all watched from a distance as Tasam placed a brightly coloured flower behind Kiri’s ear. She laughed at whatever it was he was telling her- his cheeks slightly tinged in blush that Neteyam would have never had expected to come from the mighty Tasam… a warrior he knew he would choose to be his second-in-command when the time came.

“BOYS!” Neytiri hissed as she passed, snapping them out of their glowering. “Enough with the glaring and the bitching. Leave her alone!”

“Xi, I’d owe you forever if you could bring me back a Metkayina castaway net. I’ve only ever heard stories of how incredible they are.”

“You want her to haul back an entire fishing net?” Jxo’s gruff voice asked incredulously. “Thing probably weighs more than she does.”

“Yeah but Jxo, it’s a Metkayina castaway net,” Yalnïk stressed- as if that made anymore sense.

Xilä laughed at their bickering while trying to gently ease L’eo’s fingers out from her hair. “I’ll see what I can do, ‘Nïk.”

“Are sure you’re up for the trip, darling?” Salveen asked Xi again after seeing her yawn for the umpteenth time that morning.

“Of course. Don’t mind me. I’m just really tired for some reason. I’ll be okay, mother,” she said without thinking- the name slipping from her lips and ending in a gasp when she registered what she’d said. “I- Sal-”

Xi had been calling Sal mother for a very long time now- to other people mostly and many times over in her head. But never actually out loud to Sal herself. The same to be said about Jxo.

“Darling…” Sal's eyes misted and her cheeks plumped in sheer happiness at finally being called mother. She wrapped up Xi in another hug, squeezing her tightly.

Baby L’eo released a shriek of glee from between them, little hands abandoning her hair to grab fistfuls of his grandmother’s beaded shawl instead.

“Wow, Xi, now she’s definitely going to be crying the entire time you’re gone,” D’avi teased, meeting her father’s eyes as they both shared a smile.

Xi’s goodbye with her family was bittersweet and filled mostly with the chatter and fussing of Sal and D’avi. Jxo did a good job of hiding his sadness, but she knew better.

“Xilä,” Mo’at’s aged voice called serenely.

“Be right back,” Xi told them, handing over little L’eo to his dad who tossed him up in the air then landed noisy kisses into the squealing baby’s cheeks.

“Tsahìk,” she greeted the elder when she made her way to her.

“Oh hush now. I keep telling you to call me grandmother. When will you listen, child?” she chided mildly. “Come, let me look at you.”

The Tsahìk fixed a few of Xi’s askew braids then grasped her hands into hers as she looked her over. “Hmm. Do you feel fine enough to go on the trip?”

Xilä laughed. “Perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Are you over-worrying like my mother seems to be doing?”

“Perhaps,” she mused. “Can’t an old woman just be worried about her granddaughter-in-law who she won’t be seeing until who knows how long?”

“I’ll miss you too, grandmother,” Xi teased. “Although it seems like you’ve been worried for weeks. I’m not complaining- honest… but I have noticed you hovering.”

“Bah! Fine, I admit that I have, and I have my reasoning- ah, ‘Teyam, perfect,” she greeted her grandson when he made his way to them, his lips finding and pressing against Xi’s temple. “Good that you’re here too.”

“Grandmother,” he acknowledged kindly. “It’s almost time for us to go,” he told them.

“I’ll be quick,” she said with a flick of her wrist. “Now listen, young man. You take good care of her, understood? No wild tricks and risky flying. No pushing daylight- if she needs to stop to rest, you stop. Xilä, don’t be afraid to tell him off, do not worry about stalling the others- no more people pleasing nonsense either. Remember our sessions, yes?”

Both Neteyam and Xilä nodded obediently, not daring to question the elder’s sudden out of character orders.

“Eywa,” she whispered, lips finally breaking into a smile as she observed them. “Well? Aren't you two going to hug me?” she snapped, making them both blow out breaths of amusement and wrap her up into a group embrace.

A loud horn alerted them that their fleet was assembled and ready.

It was time to go.

Their group’s travels to the Metkayina clan went far smoother than Neteyam expected. And after only two minor incidents- one where they had to hunker down due to an unexpected passing storm and the other when they encountered a wild flock of small but vicious flying beasts, they were still able to make it on time like his father had initially planned.

With the end finally in sight when Neteyam spotted a familiar cluster of islands in the distance, and when a wafting smell of salty seas hit him, nostalgia flooded his senses.

Looking back at their fleet, he took in all the faces in awe at the wondrous scenery before them. Xilä especially, gleamed.

A crowd of welcoming faces and gleeful hoots greeted them from the shorelines of Awa'atlu. Once they landed and dismounted from their ikrans, Neteyam flanked his father as they made their way towards the gathered Metkayina.

Xilä stuck close to him while nerves and excitement danced in her tummy, anxious eyes darting around shyly. She hugged her riding cloak around her more, feeling slightly out of place as a few people openly observed her- most likely probably wondering what she was doing with the Omaticaya.

Her mate who seemed to pick up on her emotions brushed her lightly on the back of her thigh with his tail, silently comforting her.

A towering man with a face tattoo approached Jake, face stoic as both men made respectful gestures to each other. I see you.

“Tonowari,” Jake acknowledged, tone light and friendly.

“My friend, Jakesully, it has been far too long,” Tonowari responded, his grin finally appearing to match Jake’s as they clasped arms together.

The massive man’s eyes spanned the rest of their company, head bowed in welcome.

Jake introduced their group quickly and Xi paid caution to make her proper respects to the clan leaders, feeling slightly unnerved as Ronal who was introduced as their Tsahìk eyed her in questioning interest.

Xilä stepped back with a few of the others who had accompanied them. There was Norm, Akrew who was one of Jake’s most trusted council members and five warriors. They all watched as Metkayina and Omatikaya friends reunited in hugs and laughter.

Lo’ak who she spotted right away was immediately tackled by an overly excited Tuk, Spider following right behind her, eager to greet his best friend.

Neytiri was embraced by an intimidating Ronal who then seemed to introduce a cute little boy who looked just like her.

Kiri greeted a pretty girl with large blue eyes and a dazzling smile. And even Neteyam had been approached by two men, one of whom had a startling resemblance to Tonowari.

“Xi, sweetheart,” Neteyam called, reaching out for her and pulling her back to his side.

Neteyam introduced her as his mate to Rotxo and the ever famous Aonung. Both men gawked at her momentarily before shooting Neteyam with impressed looks of “well done”.

“Well aren't you a lucky bastard, brother,” Aonung guffawed, eyes never leaving a flushing Xilä for a second. “What’s a gorgeous thing like you doing with a forest skxawng like him?” he joked, grinning wildly when Neteyam purposely glowered at him- side eye sharp and deadly.

“You should be careful, Aonung,” Xilä said sweetly, cheek cushioned into her mate’s pec, “My husband might just kick your ass- again,” she said, gaining a not so stifled snort from Rotxo while Aonung’s brows shot up in shock, evidently rendered mute.

Neteyam hid his amusement in her hair by pressing a chase kiss to it as he pulled her closer with a palm to the back of her neck, silently pleased.

“Well fuck me,” Aonung chuckled, observing the pair of them. “I do apologize, Xilä. Forgive me.” He squinted at Neteyam over the top of her head, “Did you really have to tell her that story, bro?”

When a couple others joined their circle to welcome Neteyam, Xilä eventually squirmed away from her mate and left him to continue catching up with his friends, then made her way over to Lo’ak.

Her brother-in-law greeted her warmly with a hug and an enthusiastic “XiXi!” She missed hearing the nickname, he was the only one who called her that after all.

“Soooo, where is she?” Xilä whispered excitedly as she scanned the mass of bodies gathered on the beach. “Is Tsireya the pretty one talking to Kiri over there?”

Lo’ak snagged her pointing finger away. “Sheesh Xi, chill out will you? Don’t-” Her sudden gasp interrupted his scolding.

“Is that a tattoo?!” Xilä shrieked, poking at his side with interest. “Lo’ak!”

“Ow- shit! Xi, it’s still fresh.”

“Sorry. It’s lovely, but what does it mean?”

“Pfft what?! It’s not lovely,” he complained, “it’s badass, Xi. Badass. Do you know what I had to do to earn this? There’s nothing lovely about it.”

A melodic giggle interrupted Lo’ak’s attempts of batting Xi’s hands away. Said pretty Na’vi Xi had previously pointed at, giggled again when they both straightened up like children caught being naughty. Lo’ak turning sheepish, melted at the sight of her- fingers reaching to tangle with hers.

“Hey,” he murmured to her.

Beam blinding, Xilä’s eyes bounced between them, excitement doubling over at their joint fingers. “Hi!”

“Hi!” who Xi assumed was Tsireya, said back.

Lo’ak snorted at their behaviour and then it was he who bridged the gap between the two females.

“Tsireya, this is Xilä, my favourite sister-in-law in the entire world,” he joked, making Xi roll her eyes fondly. “And Xi, this is… this my Tsireya,” he said with a soft smile which made the girl duck her head in a blush.

‘Awwwwwww,’ Xi mentally sang, or judging by Lo’ak’s whiny “Xiiiii” she may have cooed her awws out loud. They were so freaking cute together.

Tsireya and Xilä were an instant friendship in the making. Both girls launched into easy conversation as if they’d always known each other and Lo’ak eventually left them to their own devices to reunite with his parents.

“Why have you brought a pregnant woman with you?” Ronal’s strong voice suddenly called out. “Ikrans are known for their temperament. Did you honestly think it was wise to-”

“What pregnant woman?” Jake interrupted, panicked and suspicious eyes falling on his wife who instantly smacked his chest with a fierce glare at him for even thinking it was her.

All conversations lulled and wide eyes and confused frowns stared back at the intimidating looking Tsahìk.

Face flashing in understanding, Ronal shook her head quickly. “Forgive me. I seemed to have misspoken. Come. Come! A feast has been prepared in your honour, my friends. Tsireya, show them to their marui first.”

A perplexed Xilä shot a few nearby others a confused smile, shrugging in a way that conveyed, “I don’t know either, but that was weird.”

“Come with me,” Tsireya grinned, taking her hand to pull her along, “I’ll show you where you will be staying.”

The two weeks that followed for Xi were packed full of all sorts of exciting activities and events… and sex.

So many clan leaders and their company arrived after them, all equally welcomed by the Metkayina. There were representatives from Tipani, Anurai, Ta'unui, Sarentu and so many others that Xilä had never even heard of.

It was fascinating seeing their varying hues of blues and all the little or big differences in each clan’s physicalities. Even more so the sight of the mingling clans and cultures all clashed together.

There were feasts and celebrations, music, food and dance.

Xilä in particular spent the majority of her time with Tsireya, Kiri and Tuk.

She was still learning how to ride an ilu, making more and more progress with each lesson. It was more difficult than she expected, but she refused to give up.

The girls went exploring every day- venturing out to all of the must see hidden locations of Awa'atlu and Tsireya, ever patient with her, started teaching Xi simple signs for when they explored underwater.

Neteyam’s days were far more over scheduled than hers. They had after all come here for a reason and he had a big role to play. Xilä was so proud of him. She had even snuck in once to hear one of his speeches. He was his father’s right hand man during all meetings, paving the way for a better future for the generations to come.

If he wasn’t attending one of the many daily delegation meetings, he was keeping busy somehow. Her mate was adamant to pull his weight and help out wherever he could.

Neteyam, Jake and Lo’ak joined in on hunts, fished early almost every morning, and yet still, her mate managed to make time to take her on romantic strolls at night along the beach.

As for the sex… Well, Neteyam was a man on a mission- not that she was complaining. Their lovemaking- no, babymaking, was at an all new level. Neteyam was greedy when it came to their sex, taking her in all sorts of new positions they’d never tried before- places included.

One time he fucked her right in the sea against the pole of a wooden pier while whispering all sorts of things that made her blush as she bit down hard on her bottom lip to quell her moans.

He’d gotten even more bossy too- Making her do ridiculous things like stay in bed with her hips in the air after he’d come inside her, fingers forever ensuring she’d taking every last bit of his seed.

He kept her hydrated and banned her from drinking any of the spirits that was served during clan meals.

Truth be told, Xilä loved it all. She’d told him as much already before. Although she basked in his sweet and tenderness, she was downright obsessed with his bossy side, and Xilä felt as if she was constantly turned on lately- and again, she was not complaining.

Suffice to say she was enjoying every moment of their baby making journey. Who wouldn’t want to be woken up right on the cusp of a mind blowing orgasm every morning… and stuffed to the brim with come?

Awa'atlu was also a dream. It was the first time she understood the term vacation. Her only issue was the food. She couldn’t stand any of it. So far she’d been living off the provisions they’d packed with them for the journey over. But other than that, Xilä was perfectly happy.

The good momentarily came crashing down one evening however- when Neteyam came back badly injured.

“Xi.”

She said nothing, head bowed and focused.

“Xilä.”

Still nothing.

“You’re mad at me.” It was a statement, not a question.

Xilä’s head snapped up from the wound she was dressing. “Of course I’m mad, Neteyam!” she hissed under her breath. “You could have died! When did you get so stupid?”

They were both huddled and partly hidden in the corner of a busy marui, surrounded by other patients and busy healers.

“We were just having fun- being idiots. It didn’t look that dangerous at first, and anyway, Aonung said-” He shut up when she fixed him with a seething, piercing glare.

“Aonung said the wave was massive. It could have crushed you, Neteyam- killed you all! Rotxo’s shoulder is dislocated, Aonung’s tail looks mangled, he’s lucky it didn’t break completely. Lo’ak suffered a head injury that could have been far worse- even his ilu has an injured flipper and I just finished putting sixteen stitches into your side! You can’t do this to me, Neteyam- you can’t just-”

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” he soothed, cupping her cheek, guilt churning in his stomach at the sight of her distress- tears rapidly pooling in her eyes. “It was foolish of me. I’m sorry, baby. I won’t let it happen again. I promise.”

Xilä nodded with a sniffle, then promptly burst into tears, full body shaking as she quietly sobbed into her palms.

“Shit. Xilä, come here. I’m sorry.” Neteyam tugged her sideways into his lap and she went without complaint, one hand clutching his nape to keep him close. She was mildly embarrassed by the scene she may have been causing- but no one except one person paid them any mind.

Neteyam met his mother’s questioning and concerned eyes from across the room where she was crouched beside Lo’ak and Tsireya- both women looking like they’d been giving him the same lecture Xi had. He shrugged helplessly at his mom while he held Xi.

It had been a stupid alright.

He and the guys decided to let loose and go exploring in their free time. Only they went venturing too far out near a rocky patch of sea where the waters were rough and choppy. The waves grew higher with each passing minute, and all of them being stupid and reckless- they decided to continue on.

By the time the tide began to recede far too quickly, they knew they were in trouble. It was too late to turn back; there was no way they would be able to outrun a growing wave of that height and mass.

They were lucky to be alive and come out of it with minor damage.

However, they made things worse by coming back to the clan wielding their injuries and telling their tall tale of “almost dying” in a joking manner, which was not taken lightly by their families- especially their women.

Xilä was pissed at him. She’d taken one look at the gaping, bleeding wound on his side and dragged him right to the healers to patch him up herself, giving him the silent treatment the entire time.

“Xi, you’re breaking my heart. Please don’t cry.”

“Well you just about broke mine, you big dummy!” she quarreled while wiping at her cheeks. “I don’t even know why I’m crying this much,” she shuddered, “but I’m so mad at you. You came back to me, bleeding and hurt. Stupid you and your stupid brother and your stupid friends were laughing Neteyam- laughing over the fact that you all almost died!” she hissed quietly. “You can’t joke about things like that. Not to me.”

“I know. I know… I’m such a skxawng, right?”

“The biggest,” Xi agreed. She sat up and traced her fingers over his skin in worry. “Are you in pain?”

He shook his head, and kissed her wrinkled brow, her sniffling nose and pecked her lips. “No, baby. My wife is a badass healer. She patched me up real good.”

Xilä wanted to sob all over again. She also maybe needed a nap.

What was wrong with her today?

Stomach rolling and twisting, Xi wrinkled her nose at the sight of Spider and Lo’ak stuffing their faces with the seared fish that was delivered to them for breakfast. She had finally run out of her packed rations two days ago and had no choice but to indulge in the traditional Metkayina meals now… It was not going well.

She sniffed her portion for the third time then put it back down, unable to bear the smell. “Does it taste good to you?” she whispered to her mate who was eating his meal without issue. “It smells funny.”

“Does it?” Neteyam sniffed his own, then hers, and shook his head. “It’s good, babe. Fresh. The same as yesterday. Do you want to try mine instead?” he offered.

“Mm. No thanks.”

“Xi, you gonna eat that?” Spider asked, eyeing her abandoned meal.

“Oh, have at it!” she exclaimed eagerly, relieved to get it out of her sight.

“Not hungry, again, Xi? You need to eat, you didn’t have dinner last night,” Neteyam said gently.

“I know, but it’s the fish… and the clams and those ugly squiggly ones I could never pronounce- and pretty much everything here. It’s not agreeing with me,” she murmured back. “I miss yovo fruit,” she sighed, slouching into his side unaware that Neytiri was listening to them as she got to her feet. “Am I complaining too much? I feel like I am.”

“You’re fine, sweetheart but I’m a little worried about you now.”

“Here, Xi,” Neytri said, rejoining their family breakfast huddle. “It’s not freshly picked, but it’s the last of the provisions from our trip.”

Xilä gasped loudly, accepting the bowl of overly ripe, bruised yovo fruit like it was the most precious gift she’d ever gotten.

The entire family paused their eating and stared at her when she suddenly started to cry, smiling between her tears as she thanked Neytiri while hugging the bowl to her chest.

“Is she crying over the… half rotten fruit?” Spider asked not so quietly to an equally baffled Kiri.

“Maybe it’s her happy tears again,” Tuk chimed in- also not as quietly.

“Again?” Kiri asked.

“Yep. She cried when I gave her a pretty sea stone that I said looked like her eyes. She said they were happy tears,” Tuk shrugged.

Lo’ak frowned. “She cried when I kissed Tsireya in front of her two days ago… what’s with her?”

“Shut up,” Jake hissed at them quietly. “Eat,” he ordered, and they all instantly went back to their meals, all- and even Jake, failing to cover up their obvious glances at a still blubbering Xilä.

Neytiri smiled easily at Xilä- unperturbed by her tears, eyes crinkling as if she’d just confirmed some hidden secret.

“Baby, are you sure you’re okay?” Neteyam asked in concern, palm testing the temperature of her forehead and neck. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m fine, fine,” she huffed with an embarrassed laugh. “Please ignore me, you guys. I think I’m probably just a little homesick is all.”

When breakfast was over, they all went their separate ways. Neteyam fussed over her some more before eventually leaving her with a kiss and a murmured, “I love you,” while he cheekily and covertly squeezed her butt.

Around midday Xilä nerves suddenly kicked in when she got summoned to immediately meet with the clan’s Tsahìk.

Ronal’s healing tent was much like Mo’at’s, but all different at the same time. It was cozy and almost familiar- infused with medicinal aromas and heavily cluttered with hanging, dried pods and plants, little pots and baskets.

There were a couple mats rolled out and ready for incoming patients, a well worn work table filled with instruments and ingredients and in the far corner, a bubbling pot of some kind of medicinal concoction.

It also had an incredible view of a stretch of mauris, allowing them to see the doings of clan members going about their daily routines.

The Tsahìk greeted Xilä warmly, welcoming her with a platter of a variety of fish and clams- which she only picked at out of politeness.

They chatted and made pleasant small talk. Ronal asked her many questions about her life with the Omatikaya and Xilä was more than happy to sing their praises.

Halfway through her visit, Xi turned embarrassed when her stomach growled loudly, yet her meal remained untouched.

Ronal didn’t bat an eye however and Xilä was forever grateful when the older woman offered her fresh fruit instead. It was no yovo fruit, but it was delicious all the same and she inhaled it with gusto.

“I’ve been meaning to invite you to come by for some time now and make my apologies,” Ronal said, gaze unnerving- watching Xi carefully as if waiting for a reaction. “But you know how busy we’ve been with the current meetings.”

“Apologies?”

“Yes. I learned this odd saying from Lo’ak… What is it again? Ah yes- I almost spilled the beans.”

When Xilä blinked at her in confusion, Ronal continued, “In truth, I honestly had no idea your pregnancy was still a secret.”

Xi choked on her cup of some kind of brewed seaweed tea. “My what?”

“Your pregnancy… how is it coming along?”

Ronal’s lips cracked into a smile when Xilä gaped at her, mouth opening then closing- no words falling out. “Ah, so you did not know then?” she asked, pursing her lips when Xi remained silent. “Xilä… You are pregnant, my dear,” she revealed gently.

Xilä licked her lips, hand moving to hover over her flat stomach. Pregnant?

Meanwhile Ronal moved away their tea, then began plucking and fiddling with odd items and ingredients. “This is good news, I hope?” she asked, trying to gauge Xi’s reaction. “Will your mate be happy?”

“What?” Xi asked, blinking out of her initial shock. “Yes. No, yes it’s wonderful news,” she said quietly, a soft smile gracing her lips. “And no, Neteyam won’t just be happy, my mate will be ecstatic. It’s all he’s wanted for so long now.”

“Hmm, well that pleases me to hear. How long have you two been trying for?”

“We’ve- we’ve been trying for about over a month now,” she replied, unable to help her blush at the question.

“A month?” Ronal clicked her tongue. “Hmmm. We shall see then, yes?”

She hummed a melodic chant under her breath and lit a small bundle of dried leaves, waving the fragrant smoke towards Xilä’s stomach. Taking Xi’s hand she made a tiny prick with a needle and squeezed a drop of her blood into a cup of clear liquid.

Xilä stared entranced by the older woman’s actions, keeping quiet as she watched the clear liquid change colour while Ronal’s chants grew louder before quieting.

“Trying for a month you say…Bah! My dear, you seem to be around the end of your third month.”

“What?!” Shaking her head in disbelief, Xi racked her mind. “Three months… I’m three months pregnant?! Are you sure? Of course you’re sure. You are Tsahìk. I mean I know before we officially decided that I’d been careless with the tea but…Three months. Three months. How did I not know… how have I not known?! I’m a healer in training- I-”

“And these things can happen to anyone. Don’t be too harsh on yourself.”

“Ronal,” Xi glanced at her stomach. “I’m not showing though.”

“It happens. No disrespect, my child but you are quite small in stature as well… Xilä, every pregnancy is beautifully different in their own way. I myself didn’t start showing until my fourth month with my Tsireya. She was a very tiny baby.”

“Oh. Okay,” she whispered, feeling her panic ebb away. “You must think me such a fool. I feel like I’ve forgotten everything Mo’at taught me on the subject.”

“Of course I don’t think that. You’re having a perfectly normal reaction. Now… Have you been having symptoms?”

“Well, since you’ve mentioned it… tender breasts? They ache at the slightest touch lately and my tops are a bit too tight.” Flushing, she continued sheepishly, “I’ve indefinitely banned my husband from touching them,” she admitted, gaining a rare chuckle from Ronal.

“Any others?”

“Food. Fish particularly makes me a bit nauseous.” Ronal moved their seafood platter away at once, for which Xilä was grateful. “I’ve also done quite a bit of crying lately… especially over the smallest things and- By Eywa, all the signs were there, weren’t they?!” she cried, slapping a palm to her forehead. “I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t. It is all perfectly normal.” Ronal handed her a pouch containing the pods of a lilac, coral-like plant. “You can steep these in water to help with the nausea.”

“Thank you, Ronal… Wow. I can’t believe I’m going to be a mother,” she beamed, trying her hardest to keep her tears at bay without success.

“Congratulations, my dear.”

The rest of the visit went by quickly, and by the end Xi was more than comfortable to finally bring up the question she’d been dying to ask.

“Ronal, I know this is a usual ask, but was wondering if you could teach me a few things during my stay here- Tsahìk teachings in particular. Our ways are different, and I would love to learn from you.”

“You said you are a healing in training… are you also Tsakarem like my Tsireya?”

“Yes. Although my lessons have advanced, I know I have not even put a dent in all that I am to learn. I know it is a journey and it will take me years to connect with Eywa the way you and Mo’at do, years to get to your level. I am patient and willing to make that journey for my people. Especially so that I can be what Eywa needs me to be for them when the time comes.”

“You surprise me, Xilä Sully,” Ronal admitted, “Every time I think I’ve figured you out, I am mistaken again. Do not fret, it is a good thing,” she assured. “Very well. I will teach you what I can during your stay here.”

By the time the week ended, Xilä unfortunately still hadn't gotten the chance to tell Neteyam the good news. Her poor mate had been rendered completely exhausted lately- his busy days starting out with ridiculously early mornings and ending in too late nights.

On one breezy and calm evening, when the colours of the sky slowly turned from day into night, Xilä rocked in a woven basket-swing just outside their mauri while she worked on a new sewing project- a very special one at that.

Deep voices alerted her that her mate was finally home.

After a long day of plans and discussions with the other clan leaders, Neteyam and Jake made their way back to their mauris, steps in sync along the bouncing pathways of the Awa'atlu village.

“Night, Xi,” Jake both greeted and bid goodbye to her.

“Night, Jake,” she smiled, watching him part ways with his son who made his way towards her.

“Neteyam!” she squeaked, when in one fluid motion she was lifted and planted on his lap.

“Hi.”

“Hi- mmm,” she laughed into his kiss and squirmed when his hand squeezed around her inner thigh, making its home there like it usually liked to.

“You smell incredible,” he murmured into her mouth, pausing the kiss to duck and eagerly nose at her neck.

“Courtesy D’avi of course,” she hummed. “Tsireya said when you guys work out the trading system, she wants some of D’av’s scented concoctions delivered to her.”

“Well I’m sure that can be arranged. Actually, that’s exactly what we’ve been discussing for the past three days alone.”

“D’avi’s scented concoctions?” Xi teased.

Neteyam snorted and pinched her thigh. “Ha. Ha. Yes, that’s all we’ve been talking about. Which scents pair nicer for the day and then which ones suit the night,” he joked, making Xilä giggle.

“But no, the trading system is in the works. There was some back and forth on how to make it accessible for each clan but we finally worked out all the kinks today. Sarentu’s olo'eyktan had some great suggestions for how the bartering should go. I personally would have never thought to- Xi, you’re giving me that look again, and every time you do, it makes me want to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”

“I can’t help it, okay? It-” she looked away from him, cheeks inflamed as she mumbled, “it turns me on when you talk like that.”

Neteyam’s brows went high and then he smirked when it registered what she’d said. “Talk like what, baby?” he asked.

“Stop. Don’t tease me,” she sassed, poking him in the chest. “You know what I meant… When you get all serious and passionate about your work, it… does things to me, alright?”

“Alright.” He clicked his tongue. “Good to know, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Xi rolled her eyes playfully and leaned into him as he rocked them on the swing. They watched the last of the light fade on the horizon while listening to the many sounds around them- waves crashing in the distance, muted chatter of nearby people, ilus’ and ikrans’ cries.

“This is new. What are you working on now?” Neteyam asked, fingers playing with the material of the cloth in her lap. “Wait, is this a baby sling?” He lifted the fabric higher to see it better.

“Um, yes,” she replied, suddenly turning nervous.

“I like it. It's very cute, but it’s a little small for the twins though, don’t you think?”

“Mhm, yeah it is… but it’s okay, cause it’s not for them.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, not quite picking up on her meaning just yet.

Holding his gaze, Xi took the large hand resting on her thigh and brought it towards her middle, pressing until his warm palm was spread out and covering the span of stomach completely.

Gold eyes widening, he sucked in a breath of air. “Xi…”

“I’m pregnant, ‘Teyam,” she whispered, lips tugging upward at the corners, eyes shiny in happiness.

“You’re-” His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat with a little shake of his head. “You’re having a baby- you’re having our baby? My baby?”

“Mhmm, yes. You’re going to be a father, Neteyam. A daddy.”

Silence played out for a long minute as he stared where his hand was pressed- Xilä’s palm sitting over his.

A loud whoop escaped Neteyam, and then he was capturing Xilä’s lips with his- all messy and silly and eager because he was just so incredibly happy- so fucking ecstatic.

They laughed in between their kisses, hands cupping each other's tear stained cheeks as they whispered excitedly.

“I can’t believe it. Xilä, I’m so happy. Oh Eywa, I could just burst. Shit, your boobs,” he laughed, “I knew they looked different! And you never let me touch them anymore- how did I not figure it out sooner?”

“Isn’t that the question? I’ve been asking myself the same thing for the past two days and I-”

“Two days? You’ve known for two days?”

“Mmm, yeah. I’m sorry, handsome. I couldn’t find the right time to tell you. There’s something else though… I’m three months along, almost four.”

Neteyam’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding… four months? Holy- wait how are you feeling, sweetheart? Are you okay? Have you been sick?” he asked, palm resting against her stomach in what Xi could only describe as lovingly possessive perhaps.

“I’m good, promise. But at least it now explains all the crying, and my aversion to fish. Seems our baby only wants fruit for now.”

“Our baby…” he repeated, eyes drawn to where his palm rested. “You’re having our baby. We’re going to be parents… I’m going to be a daddy.”

Xi wiped away his tears as he spluttered in giddiness.

“God, I’m so happy, Xi,” he kept saying.

“Me too- oh! No wait, where are you going?”

Neteyam had gotten up and gently placed her back down, a determined expression now gracing his face.

“To get you fruit. You’ve not been eating lately and our baby only wants fruit. So stay put, I’m going to get you some.”

Xilä may or may not have cried right there and then.

A baby!!!!!!! Gosh these two have come so far, I could cry lol.

Y'all, I am not versed in Na'vi pregnancy at all- no clue how it is for them. I took inspiration from real life circumstances for Xi. So shout out to my friend who cried for almost an hour straight when I surprised her at work with a birthday cupcake while she was preggo and had no clue that she was at the time. Lol.

Also, I feel like one chapter alone at Awa'atlu isn't enough, so there will be another one to come. We. Need. More Aonung and definitely more Lo'ak and his precious Tsireya!

If you have ideas, feel free to share.

Last but not least, special shout out and big thanks to my friend Tori who is a gem in my opinion. You're the best!

As always, please let me know what you think :)

Tags: @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @granddearduck @riatesullironalite @strawberri-blonde @earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop @blkmystery @neteswife @luvteyams @isnt-itstrange @erenjaegerwifee @faatxma @ivysully @bakugouswaif @pinkpantheris @mntx666 @ironcaptainnataliabarnes

If you'd like to be tagged or I forgot you by accident, please let me know.

#neteyam #neteyam x oc #neteyam avatar #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully

147 notes · View notes

mmorw · 11 months

Note

Ok but like, breeding Oh Sangwoo would be so fun.

YESS I MEAN it would be so fun right???

cw: small smut. angst ig. babytrapping. breeding kink and stuff. m just bored to tag alr. dark content.

english not my first language, I wrote this while I was sleepy as hell I love you guys

His stupid smirk and psycho aura turned into a fucking submissive and depressed personality for the rest of his life.

we all know Oh Sangwoo had a really bad connection with his mom, arriving at obvious abusive and dark points about a horrible motherhood and figure out who should "educate" him. Sadly (and gracefully) Sangwoo could almost hit his own stomach when he finds out he's pregnant.

The breeding in your sexual activities is clearly fun and satisfying for you, forcing your cock deep inside Sangwoo's walls to milk it until he cannot move from a huge creampie in his cunt.

Oh Sangwoo has a vasectomy, doesn't he? Well, he has a cunt now, maybe he tried enough contraceptive methods but not at the time you fucking breeded his womb.

“It would be fun!” You cheered with a smile, looking at the positive pregnancy test in Sangwoo's trembling hand. You gave a quick look at his pale and almost motionless face, kissing his cheek anxiously. “You'll be such a great mom, Sangwoo.”

He doesn't want you to leave him alone in the bathroom, but also wants to be alone. He didn't wanted this, you know? he can't be a mom, he don't want to!

while you give soft and large kisses around his cheeks and neck, hugging his small waist; Sangwoo wants so bad to not believe this, just thinking about carring a child inside him makes it sick. He doesn't want to become what his mother was.

“Well, don't worry about too much of this,” You smiled. “You can give birth to the baby, but not look at it, touch it... even create a bond with the life that you created and expelled from your womb.”

Your words made him feel worse, obviously. So, well he did wanted to do all those things too, but something inside him, the smallest thing of all, was yelling at him about it, his own motherhood ruined because of a shitty experience with Eunseo.

“But I can't force you to that, it's your choice.” You smirked, like if Sangwoo originally don't would have forced women to give birth to his offspring, your ego was too selfish to let him keep sinking in on itself. “If you gave birth to the kid and don't even want to look at it, I'll go, and you will never see me again.”

“No!” You were startled for a moment by his strong, shaky voice. His trembling hands taking your arms softly, almost choking back a sob. “D-don't... leave me..”

“Oh?” You tilted your head to the side in full interest, hugging Sangwoo's hunched figure again. “You kidnapped me and forced me to stay here, so I did one of the worst things possible and got you pregnant. I know you want me out of here.”

“I-I don't,” The maniacal smile on your face lengthened, he looked so cute! “I can't raise it alone...”

You sighed at that. “Only that?” you rolled your eyes. “You can go to a bar and find an ugly old man with lots of money, duh. You'll be fine, and the fetus too.”

You separated for a moment from the embrace, kneeling in front of him to put your face back to a completely neutral state, this was something serious, wasn't it?

“You know how South Korea has been doing with the low birth rate,” You hummed. “You are gonna be a hero, Sangwoo.”

“But I w-want you to stay with me,” He sobbed, almost in a silent voice, his hands deepened in your clothes. “I really, really want to.”

Your face turned into another big smile, helping him get up from the edges of the tub, giving a small kiss on his dead lips.

“Oh, Sangwoo.” You teased, taking his waist from behind your arm. “we're gonna be great parents!”

Yeah, he didn't liked the sound of that.

#dom male reader #dom reader #sub oh sangwoo #sub killing stalking #i fucking hate this btch #he's so lovely tho

524 notes · View notes

selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 3 months

Note

*TW*

Hello!!! I absolutely love platonic yanderes with teenage reader so can I ask for a fic where the teen!reader is basically a traumatized being. They have experienced hell throughout their life from mental abuse to physical abuse. Like I mean, they have gotten in many dangerous situations which ended up with police involved (kidnapped, assaulted, murder attempt). Ofc the reader never really did anything wrong, they were just an innocent child till everything went downhill. They don't have any family members left leading them to stay at an orphanage. Anddd you could say the orphanage people aren't the nicest. And their mental health has become so fucked up that they had attempted suicide.

You don't have to do this if ur uncomfortable ofc. Sorry about how triggering the request might be

On the roof

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD Cast x GN! Teen! Traumatized! Reader

Description: You are on the rooftop in the middle of the night.

Trigger warning: Suicide attempt. Abuse. Child abuse. Kidnapping. Assault. Attempted murder.

List of Suicide hotline numbers can be found here and here.

Warning: One swear word. English is my second language.

__________________________________

You silently opened the door, that leads to the roof of an orphanage. With your phone in hand, you take a few steps forward.

The door closed behind you.

You just stand here. You were silent.

You were here. You wanted to end this.

You sighed and looked around.

Should you just... Go to the edge and jump? It's not like someone would care about you.

You didn't bother with the last note.

No one would care about the reason.

You will simply become a name in documents.

You just wanted to be heard.

You mindlessly looked at your phone.

Should you take it with you?

Or left it here, so someone else would use it?

Your gaze stopped at the "BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan" icon. Will the new owner delete it? Or will continue your progress?

You tapped on the icon. You didn't leave a note.

Yet, you "talked" to BSD Characters so often, that it seems right, to let them hear your last words.

Your reasons.

You opened the Main Menu and choose 'Meeting Hall' option.

The picture of ADA Office appeared. And Chibis of all BSD Characters appeared.

This new option was cute. You liked petting chibis.

All chibis 'looked' at you.

And you finally spoke.

"Mom was strange..."

________

Your mom was strange.

She smelled funny. Like water everyone told you not to drink.

Sometimes, she stared at you. Stared for a long time.

And there were rules.

1. Don't cry.

2. Don't annoy mom.

3. You eat last.

4. If you stayed past curfew, you will sleep outside.

5. Don't tell anyone about your home life.

At least, she let you play outside as much as you want. Mom liked, when you were away from home.

*******

You were five, when you got kidnapped.

That night, you wake up to get some water.

Mom saw you.

In her eyes, you broke a rule.

You were sleeping outside.

One moment you were trying to get comfortable under the porch.

Next moment a man in a mask was dragging you in a van.

Three days.

You were in a dark, scary place for three days.

On a third day you heard two men talking.

"What do you mean, that mother didn't realize, that kid were missing?!"

_____

"Still... Mom paid the ransom. Kidnappers left me. It takes three more days for police to find me..."

____

You were standing near a police officer. And your mom finally arrived to the police station to collect you.

You walked to her, your head was low.

She hit you.

You screamed.

You collapsed on the floor, and your mother bent over you. She hissed and pushed you in the side with her feet.

"Are you satisfied, brat? Get up and go pack your belongings, we’re moving to a shed."

"You should treat your kid more kindly..." the officer grumbled. Your mother squealed.

"Kindly?! This brat had ruined my whole life!” Your mom was mad. She screamed like a fury, jumped in place and gave cowering you blow after blow. You didn’t try to dodge. You just trembled, curled up into a ball.

"Hubby ran away as soon as he gets it inside me! But dear relatives didn’t let me throw it away. They didn’t let me give it to an orphanage! They said that I need to raise this child! They stood up for a little bastard! But now, when I need to pay debt, they are nowhere to be found! They say I play cards too much! I'm just unlucky! Things are not going my way! The house is mortgaged! I poured all my savings into the last card game and won! I would pay off all my debts! And because of this thing, I now have to live in a shed! What will I tell my family now?! What will others say about me?!"

Officer heard enough.

The CPS were called.

_______

"... They were trying to find my father... Until then, grandmother and grandfather agreed to took me in..."

_______

You were six.

Your grandfather sat on the opposite side of the table.

Your textbook and notebook were laying on the table before you.

And your grandfather was talking.

"I finished checking your homework. As I expected, you are a little idiot. A stupid, worthless waste of space. You have made few stupid mistakes. You wrote numbers in a wrong order.

Grandfather opened your notebook. A red paste was covering the page.

2 + 1 = 3 1 + 2 = 3

3 + 1 = 4. 1 + 3 = 4

"So..." Grandfather take a ruler.

"Give me your hand. It will be ten hits for every wrong number."

________

"...it took two year to find my father. He had a family. And I... I was a child from affair. They never let me live it down... For years"

_______

You were nine.

The blow, when it came, took all of your air out of your lungs. You would have fallen if not for your two... "siblings" holding you.

"It feels good, giving a good beating to a dirtbag, right?"

The next hit was in your left eye. You managed to close it in time.

But it will be swollen.

You felt hot breath on your face.

"Your hair is too good for a bastard child."

Your sister brought the scissors up to your hair.

Snip, snip, snip. Cutting right alongside the scalp, sending your hair like leaves swirling to the ground.

Then scissors were plunged into your stomach.

"Die, child of a dirty whore."

______

"...Police was called. They were arrested. But I remained with father and his wife..."

_____

You were twelve.

You were going food shopping. Big bags were heavy, you were tried.

You still need to clean up the house and make dinner.

When you were attacked, because someone tied to rob you, you didn't even care.

You only knew, that, you will be beaten again for being late. And for losing food.

You were long past gone. There were no point in carrying about yourself.

~~~~~~

You were thirteen.

Your father, his wife and you were going to the funeral.

Your father's uncle died.

Now he only has his wife and kids. And you.

He noticed your gaze in a reflection.

He yelled at you for staring.

And he crashed.

You spent three hours in a broken car.

You were the only survivor.

_______

"... I was sent to an orphanage. I am too old to have any chance to be adopted. And I wasn't the only one, who had no chance to have a family..."

______

You tasted dirt and blood. An old rug was thrown over your head, to make it harder for you to fight back.

Someone pressed a knee on the back of your neck and held your face against the ground.

A kick in the side made you roll on your back.

Another person began to push down on your neck with an arm.

You began to struggle, thrashing about with your legs and beating them against the floor, but it was no good.

There were other kids around—at least a dozen of them. One of them would do something. One of them was sure to see that things were taking too far. Your vision began to go fuzzy.

Caretakers saved you only because the noise didn't let them watch TV.

________

"I couldn't take it anymore. I... thank you... Thank you for making me happy... For being the only happy thing in my life."

You finished talking and put your phone on the ground. You stand up and walked towards the edge.

You heard a loud noise. You turned around.

BSD Characters were standing behind you. Real.

And you were still standing near the edge. You were silent. Nikolai lift his overcoat and put his hand into the portal.

His head reappeared near you. You jumped away. Now you were even closer to the edge.

"No... I... I don't want to... Don't come closer..." whispered you. You took another step. You were almost here.

"[Y/N], if you go back, I will give you a hug!"

You froze and turned around.

Kenji Miyazawa made a step forward. He opened his arms, offering a hug.

"I promise, I will give you a hug. Come here... You really need a hug."

You trembled. You moved towards Kenji.

Step. After step. After step.

Kenji was standing here. Offering a hug.

You launched yourself forward, wrapping your arms around Kenji. He immediately hugged you back.

You cried. For the first time in years.

In a few minutes, you were in a middle of a large group hug.

________

You are fifteen.

You are living with your family.

You still have a long path to recovery.

And you are not alone.

BSD Cast will stay with you.

And will make sure, that you will never be hurt again.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #platonic #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: child abuse #tw: abuse #tw: kidnapping #tw: attempted murder

148 notes · View notes

hina-hina · 1 year

Note

Hey! Please could you write an imagine where the task force are out on a mission and find a child (Maybe 7/8) And take her in? Maybe they found her watching them do their job or something? :)

This was so cute!! Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy!! (★‿★)

Got a little carried away with this one but I hope you guys like it nonetheless!!

|| Task Force 141 Taking in a Orphaned Child ||

Warnings: references to child abuse and neglect

Female!Reader // Platonic

It was supposed to be a simple, in-and-out mission

But, of course, nothing ever goes as plan for Task Force 141

They were to infiltrate the base, eliminate their target and any remaining enforcements, then get out

And things were going well, Soap and Ghost being able to push up to the top of the building while Gaz and Price provided backup on the lower floors

They had managed to make it to the top where the target was, quickly eliminating him

"Price, we're all done up here, target KIA." Ghost radioed

"Copy. Almost done down here. RV at the front door."

"Copy. Out here."

He gestured for Soap to follow but he was focused on something else

"Johnny, let's go."

"Shhh!!"

Ghost paused, confused as Johnny begins creeping toward a closet pushed off to the side of the room

Then, Ghost hears it too

Something was shuffling inside the closet

Ghost nods at Soap and tightens his grip on his rifle

Soap creeps closer to the wardrobe before throwing it open

They both quickly aim their weapons but freeze again when they actually take in what's in the closet

A small child, dirty and malnourished, curled in on herself with a dingy teddy bear pressed into her chest

"Creepin' Jesus..."

Ghost's hand twitches, curling around his radio before he clicks in on, "Price, this is Ghost, we have a problem up here."

Meanwhile, Soap had kneeled down next to the girl, talking to her gently

"Hey, little one. My name's Soap and this is my buddy, Ghost. We're gonna get you out of here."

The small girl peeks out around her arms and nods reluctantly

Soap glaces behind himself and sees Ghost standing slightly behind him, obviously waiting for Soap, before nodding

"Alright, doll, I need you to cover your eyes for me."

The girl does it easily and Soap maneuvers her out of the closet and past the dead body of her father

When they got back down to Price and Gaz, the girl was huddled behind Soap's leg

"You really weren't kidding..."

They bring the kid back and she immediately gets checked out by medical, the others in Task Force 141 in a meeting with Laswell

Turns out, the girl was the daughter of her target and was at great risk of being killed by his enemy's or taken by his supporters

Because of this, she had to stay on base with the task force until the rest of the supports could be taken out

"A military base is no place for a child!" Price exclaimed

"It's all we can do until this is all taken care of."

So, Price goes back to medical to get the young girl

According to the team, she was 8 years old but extremely small for her size but despite some bruises she was generally unharmed

Price walks the kid to one of the empty barracks, "I know it's not much but, uh..."

"...It's fine."

The girl climbs onto the bed, staring at the older man while still hugging the bear to her chest, "Is my dad dead?"

Price sighed harshly, debates lying to the girl and then says back, "Yes."

"Oh," She shifts her gaze back to the floor, "He wasn't very nice."

"No," the man goes and sits next to the girl on the bed, "He wasn't."

They sit in silence for a moment before the girl looks up at him, "Will you stay with me till I fall asleep. I'm scared."

The captain softens a bit, "Of course, dear. Get some rest."

The girl falls asleep and the captain keeps his word, standing a silent vigil at her bedside

Laswell brings the girl back a large box of clean clothes and toys, offering to clean the teddy bear

The girls grip tightens, "I don't want anything to happen to him."

She smiles, "Nothing will, you can even help if you want.""

And so, they clean the bear together in a large basin of water until it comes dirt-free

The girl quietly thanks her, hugging the clean bear to her chest

The girl was quiet but well mannered, always saying please and thank you

However, she was still terrified of almost everyone and didn't like talking a lot

The guys on the task force take turns staying with her

The first to stay with her is Gaz

He was incredibly nervous, never having interacted with children and especially not a traumatized one

So, he asks her if she wants to play cards

So he teaches her some games and how to cheat

"Isn't cheating bad?" "Well, yeah, most of the time. But, trust me on this one."

So they bring Price in and when she starts wiping the floor with him, he's so confused

"What the hell..."

It's the first time they get the girl to laugh and the two men just melt

Next is Captain Price

He usually just sits with her in his office and on this particular day he had been smoking a cigar just before she came in, the thing still lit and laying on his desk in an ashtray

The girl scrunches her nose, "I don't like those. They smell bad. Dad would use them too. When I was bad, he would burn me with them."

Price never smokes in front of her again and always makes sure to have a mint or brush his teeth after he does

Next is Soap

When he comes to her, she's sitting at a table in the rec room, paper and brightly colored crayons spread across the table

"You like to draw? I do too!" "...Really? Can I see some?"

He would show her his journal with his sketches, commenting on pictures she likes

"That dog looks scary!" "I'm not too fond of dogs, lass. Lots of bad experiences."

He would end up ripping a page out of the journal to give to her

She hangs it up in her room

And lastly we have Ghost

He would down right refuse to watch her at first

It's not that he has anything against the girl, he just doesn't want to scare her

or get attached

But, when he does, he is completely out of his element

They sit in silence for a moment before she suddenly asks

"Can you teach me how to fight."

He's taken back for a moment before grumbling, "Your a little young for that."

But he entertains her for a moment, lets her throw some punches into his hands and shows her how to properly make a fist

"Don't hold your hand like that, you'll break your fingers."

Additionally, he would let her color in his arm tattoo with markers

Eventually, they would take down the last of the supporters and it would be safe for the girl to return to civilian life

Laswell and her wife would adopt her

However, she would be very reluctant to leave at this point

She would plant her feet and become an unmovable object

Soap would try to convince her:

"I don't want to go! I want to stay here with you and Mr. Price and Gaz and Ghost!"

Soap would sigh, "I know, lass, but it's just not possible. You'll like it with Laswell and her wife. You'll get to go to school and meet other kids. They even have a dog."

"...You don't like dogs, Soap."

He laughs around the stinging in his eyes, ruffling her hair, "Yeah, I don't, Lass."

Price would place a heavy but gentle hand on her small shoulder, "You be good, alright? Don't cause too much trouble." "Of course, Mr. Price."

He would wrap her up in a big bear hug, burying his face into her hair

Gaz would hug her, pulling back to ask "You keep practicing cards, alright? I swear, you'll be able to beat me in no time."

She would nod enthusiastically, reaching a hand out to get a fist bump from Gaz (something he had taught her after her clear confusion on the gesture.)

And finally Ghost

He would kneel down to her height, "You remember what I taught you, right? Don't take anyone's shit."

"I promise, Ghost!"

He ruffled her hair, breathing out a chuckle, "That's my girl."

And so, she would go to live in the suburbs with Laswell and her wife and go to school where she makes friends but doesn't take anyone's shit, just as Ghost said

She still sends letters and has video calls with the boys and looks forward to their visits every time they can find a moment to get away

She loves her new family, as unconventional as it is and she's happy

2K notes · View notes

medievill · 5 months

Text

okay. okay. I think I've finally figured out the worst part of the "Ed's going to be an abuser just like his dad" headcanon some of y'all have.

let's go for a ride.

abuse is cyclical, and not just in a micro sense. it's not just "I love you, you're garbage, I'm sorry, I love you, I'm the only one who loves you because you're garbage, I'm sorry, I love you," etc. I mean macro. I mean generationally.

I mean that parents teach their children how to have relationships. we show our kids how adults interact with each other, how adults interact with kids, how kids should interact with kids. we model this behavior constantly. it's one of the most nerve-wracking things about being a parent, actually: you live in a fish bowl now, and the fish bowl is your home, and your children are constantly observing your behavior and interactions, even when you don't want them to, even when you think they're not.

growing up in a home with an abusive parent doesn't just expose you to the abuse—physical, emotional, psychological, religious, whatever it is—it teaches the child that this is how relationships work. and then this kid goes out into the world, interacting with other humans all willy-nilly, and bringing all the knowledge that their parents armed them with to bear. and when the kid (hopefully) realizes that wait, actually, shouting and throwing things and hitting people isn't good, that's not the way you interact, it is solely up to that kid to fix their shit. if they're lucky, they've got someone in their life to help them with that. but even once you've recognized that there's Bad Stuff happening in your interpersonal relationships, you have to retrain your brain. you have to change your go-to reaction. because you can recarve your neural pathways, but it is fucking hard work.

I didn't grow up with a physically abusive parent; I grew up with an emotionally abusive one. every time my partner does something that annoys me, or we disagree on something, and my reaction is "well, I don't really feel like talking"—if you don't think that I don't half- to full-on panic about wait is this the silent treatment, am I doing what my dad did, you are absolutely incorrect. it is a constant fear, that my reactions are inherently abusive. I am constantly gaslighting myself into believing that everything I do in a relationship is bad, hurtful, abusive. I am constantly having to convince myself that it's okay sometimes not to want to talk, and to sometimes be annoyed, and to sometimes disagree, and that none of this is inherently abusive.

now. Ed fucking Teach. do you not think the guy's spent some time introspecting? examining his inner most self? he's smart, and he's depressed, so, yeah. I bet he has. so do you not think, you absolute monsters, that he isn't doing the same fucking thing? Ed Teach, who convinced himself that defending him and his mom against constant violence (a white man, and as if this was a random choice)—ultimately saving their lives (and no, this is not an exaggeration)—made him an unloveable, unlikeable monster. Ed Teach, who is so desperate for love and friendship that his biggest fantasy is owning an inn, where people stay because they want to.

do you really think that one of the thousand internal battles Ed my beloved is fighting isn't don't be your dad don't be your dad don't be your dad? fighting, fucking tooth and nail, to be different. (same as Stede!) this reactionary headcanon literally misses so much of the point of the whole character; it buys into the British Navy's propaganda about him, and worse. it buys into the narrative that a man of color is inherently violent, inherently incapable of change.

#tw: abuse #tw: domestic abuse #tw: emotional abuse #ofmd #our flag means death #ed my beloved #ofmd meta #canyon critical

150 notes · View notes

mono-dot-jpeg · 11 months

Text

[2:31am]

[platonic, gn child (7-9)! reader]

a/n; no fancy layout bc im in bed and on my phone now. it's 2am once again. also this is based off a similar scenario i had with my own parents. but half of it is just more fluffy than irl.

[warnings for child reader having a family that just never gave them the time of day. not really abusive but not good either. is this ooc welt? idk]

the express is silent with the gentle lull of sleep. but you don't feel any tiredness.

you promised to sleep at a better time. but you just couldn't. your father figure, mr. welt (as you so affectionately called him), even offered to stay with you until you were asleep. it didn't work as well as you hoped.

you relied on him more than you thought. his presence felt more than safe and comforting. something you haven't felt often before you became part of the express family. plus, he was just so nice to you. he was a father that stepped up even if he didn't realize it.

so here you are, looking for him in the living room-esque cart. your cold body wrapped in a blanket as you enter the main area. it's not hard to find mr. welt and a large empty room. you watch as he stares at the stars in the galaxy for just a moment. but just like how you find him, he finds you.

"y/n, what are you doing up? it's cold." he whispers as he strides over to you and kneels down to adjust the blanket. "did you have a bad dream?" you're gently taken off the cold marble floors and into his arms.

"mhn." you make an unsure sound, you don't answer yet. you don't want to be weak. you didn't want to admit that you couldn't sleep without him. "no." you mutter, picking at the threads of his clothes.

"okay. that's good." he lets one arm support you as his free hand gently guides your head to rest on his shoulder. "would you like to stay here?" you shake your head. "let's go back then."

you arrive at mr. welt's room. he gently tucks you into the bed first before entering by your side. you turn on your side and stare as he adjusts your baby hairs on your head. you eventually speak, deciding to tell the truth, "mr. welt..." he hums, signifying that he's listening. "i... um- i couldn't sleep. without- without you." he doesn't mock or laugh or tease. he gently smiles.

"thank you for telling me. i bet it wasn't easy, dear." you nodded. "i can stay with you a bit longer this time. i'll be busy reading instead but i'll stay by your side, alright?" your body relaxes at his words.

you nod again. he pats your head as you give him a small smile. "thank you mr. welt." the lights in the room are dimmed down as his phone plays a tune. it's not particularly something soft or gentle. it reminds you of night conversations that himeko and welt have and how you always get sleepy because they keep talking. it fills the dead silence. "mr. welt?"

"hm?"

"can i hug you?"

"of course." you shift closer to him as he can't help but think how endearing and sweet you are while you finally cling onto him. arms just barely wrapped around his stomach as your face is buried against his side.

"thank you for taking me in."

"i'm just doing what i would do for my family."

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr welt #hsr x reader #welt yang #welt yang x reader #fuck it if i cant find any platonic fics #ill write them myself

393 notes · View notes

luckytiggertalia · 6 months

Text

Named, but Nameless

1.2k homelander x reader, sfw, fluff, headcanons about his birth name, a canon conversation between my oc and homelander written in an x reader format, she/her reader

Gaining such a strong connection with another human, after Madelyn, was something Homelander was convinced would never happen again nor would he ever try again. The fragility of human life and the strength of a supe never mixed well. Like water and oil, so close and yet always separate. Life and love didn't care about that, though. Life and love were the reciprocating shakers, vibrating and agitating the oil and water until they were as incorporated as possible.

His couch was the shaker, and his knee was doing the shaking, bouncing up and down in rhythmic thumps. The foreign feeling of tightness in his chest overwhelmed him. He was a God. Why the hell was he feeling all these human emotions? What reason did he have to be so anxious? Beside him was nothing more than his mortal. He was stronger than her. He was braver than her. He could do anything and everything she couldn't. So why couldn't he respond to one simple question?

"Answer me.. please. Are you okay?" she said after concluding that he would stay silent. Her voice was laced with worry, with her brows knitted together. "Homelander?"

His supe name rolled off her tongue so deliciously, despite the name being admittedly bulky. Her voice carried that name through his every vein and artery, but the tightness in his chest remained. That was his name. He was Homelander. And yet, after gaining such a connection to her, the name felt… wrong. Perhaps it was the cliché of superheroes to have secret identities. Starlight had one, "Annie" they called her. Black Noir did, too, "Earving". Was his name worthy of being a secret identity?

"Homelander?" she repeated, speaking more sternly. She reached out to him, placing her hand over his bouncing knee, knowing all too well that she couldn't still it.

"John.." he said, his voice hushed.

"John?" she repeated.

Homelander grimaced, hearing her say it. This was a mistake. He said it too impulsively, and now it was too late to take it back.

"J.. John. It's my birth name. Use it. If you want, I mean." The uncertainty in his voice made him sick. He sounded so pathetic, so unsure, so human.

She didn't speak, instead just trying to read his expression. The silence sickened him. Was she judging him for his name? Was the name too simple or boring for her? He had never exactly told a partner his real name. They always seemed to just find out, whether by accident or by snooping. He had hoped being the one to tell this lover his name would feel liberating. Oh, how wrong he was. This felt suffocating. This felt like his identity was being forced upon him. This felt like that damned cage he was kept in as a child. John. John Doe. Named, but nameless. A science experiment with no sense of self. Only pain. Torment. Abuse.

"Do you want me to call you that?" her voice rang out, presumably noticing how uncomfortably he stirred from her silence.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Her knowing and using his assigned name was supposed to be the next step, and yet he wanted to say "no". Needed to say "no".

"It's okay if you don't want me to, baby. I'm okay with just calling you Homelander."

His brow furrowed as he groaned, slamming his hands on the couch and forcing himself to his feet.

"No! No, you aren't… you aren't fucking getting it!" Homelander paced, his hand up near his mouth as he chewed on the leather of his crimson glove. "It isn't enough. 'Homelander' isn't enough! Everyone calls me that… Everyone uses that name. It's not special!" He hardly knew if he was making any sense to her. He wasn't even making any sense to himself. He knew he had no reason to get upset or frustrated because of something as trivial as a name, and yet he couldn't help it. He felt like a child.

"Sweetheart, hey. It's alright. Let me try and understand, okay? Come here," she beckoned, arms opened and inviting.

His teeth sunk harshly into the leather, his pacing slowing down as he glanced toward her. He stood still before going to reclaim his spot beside her, leaning into her warmth with his nose pressing into her neck.

"Alright… So no 'John', and 'Homelander' isn't special enough. We could go with a nickname? I've used 'Homie' in the past. How about that one?"

The vibrations of her throat and the sound of her calmly beating heart soothed his unease. Always a problem solver, this one. The world would be damned if she ever couldn't find a solution to something.

"No… I like 'Homie', but it's still not special enough. I… I guess I want something more private. Just for us."

"Ah, I see."

Silence again, but this time he knew she was just thinking. He didn't speak either, curious to see what his partner would come up with. She often surprised him with her ideas and suggestions and he hoped she would surprise him here, too.

She broke the silence, "How about… Johnny? It is close to ‘John’, but far enough away to be special, and private, of course.”

The corner of his lip quirked in surprise. "Johnny?" he repeated, lifting his head off her shoulder. He had to fight back the smile forcing its way onto his lips.

"Yeah! Johnny. I think it's cute, personally."

Homelander bit the inside of his cheek, averting his eyes all while turning his head away from her. That smile won and sat plastered across his lips. Hearing her say it again made a warmth blossom from his chest and spread to his every extremity. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. It wasn't any spectacular nickname at all, rather common really, and yet it sat with him. The tightness and anxiety he had felt was quickly forgotten.

"I mean, we can try it," he said with an attempt at sounding indifferent. He leaned back against the couch, head still turned away from her.

His response earned a small laugh from her, "We'll try it, then." He heard her leaning closer and saw her hand coming around out of his peripheral. Soft and tender, her hands held his face as if he were a fragile, porcelain doll. She turned his head to look at her, her eyes filled with nothing but affection and love for him. They stared deep into the blues of his own. Instinctively, his head leaned deeper into her hold, lips centimeters away from her palm.

"I love you, Johnny…"

That…

It rolled off her tongue, her lips… It glided through the air like a feather. His eyes grew wider and softer, lips parting as he took it all in. Her voice echoed throughout his psyche. He latched onto the soundwaves, never wanting to forget how beautiful her words sounded. His mind felt numb and he felt a high he’d never experienced before. He felt lightheaded in the best way possible. All that combined with the softness and love in her eyes made him feel as if he would faint right in her arms. He leaned deeper into her touch, reaching a hand up to press hers harder into his cheek. He kissed her palm, lips smiling against her skin.

I love you, Johnny…

"I love you too, my darling…"

#talia dabbles in writing #homelander #the boys amazon #homelander x oc #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #i rarely write outside of roleplay #very nervous about posting this i dont remember when i wrote my last fanfic #enjoy <3

318 notes · View notes

toournextadventure · 1 year

Text

everyone but her pt.20

Summary: Grief comes in many different forms and stages. You're stuck on anger, and Wednesday accompanies you to the funeral. But she says something wrong, with the best of intentions, and you end up doing something that will change your family dynamic for the worse.

Word Count: 7.7k Warnings: grief, child abuse, self neglect (not eating, recklessness, not taking care of self, excessive drinking), extreme anger, flashbacks (mentions of car accident, injuries, illusions to criminal activity), swearing, violence, smoking Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @captainbeat @smromanoff

Everyone says grief comes in five stages; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But you disagree. It’s not five stages, it’s one. Only one stage that washes over you like a wave and holds you under until you’re drowning. You’re drowning and watching everyone on the surface live their lives as if you aren’t just right underneath them, choking on the salty sea water as you scream for help.

It’s only one stage; agony.

The house was bigger than you remembered when you got home far too early in the morning. The barristers were cleaner, the kitchen was far more pristine, and it was quiet. It was far too quiet, and your hands started to go clammy at the revelation. There wasn’t even any comfort in the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. Tick-tocks burned themselves into your brain until it was stabbing into your head like a knife.

You started humming a tuneless song. It eased the pain slightly.

"Don't hum, dear," your mother said as she took her gloves off and handed them to your maid and previous nanny, Mabel. "It's childish."

Your humming died off and the silence came back.

"Mabel will show you to your room,” your father said, resting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. For a moment, things almost seemed okay. “We will mourn tomorrow, then start the preparations.”

And just like that everything came crashing down once again. Paired perfectly with the migraine that still refused to settle.

“Oh, Y/N,” your father called out before you managed to get more than three steps up.

You turned around slowly, each joint still aching from the fall earlier in the night. Was it that same night? It felt so long ago. Nothing felt like you had been on a carnival date earlier in the night, that you had been having fun with Wednesday and the gang less than eight hours ago. Or was it longer than that? Did it even matter anymore?

“Your principal wanted you to have your phone back,” he continued when you stayed silent. He smiled softly down at the phone in his hands before looking up and handing it back. “Your conversations are a bit concerning,” he said when your fingers brushed his to take it back. “I installed a program to track your activity.” You blinked once. “For your well-being.”

For my well-being. Right. Of course.

“You have a few unread messages,” your father called after you as you turned to walk back up the stairs. “You should let them know everything is alright.”

Be angry, a voice in the back of your head growled when Mabel continued to guide you through the now-unfamiliar corridors. It was a familiar voice, one that hadn’t reared its head in months, but you couldn’t quite place it. He went through your phone, so you need to get angry. No. No, you wouldn’t get angry. Why not? Your jaw clenched painfully. Nicky wouldn’t have gotten angry.

“Y/N.”

You stopped in the doorway of the room - your room - and looked sideways at Mabel. She looked older, more worn. Maybe it was just from working for your parents for so long. How was her son? Had he graduated college yet? He had wanted to be an engineer, if you remembered right. Why did she look so sad?

“I am truly sorry,” she said softly. “I cannot imagine your grief.”

No. No, she couldn’t imagine your grief. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to see him not even a week earlier, alive, and not knowing it would be the last time you saw him. She couldn’t fucking imagine what it was like and no one could fucking imagine what it was like.

The migraine throbbed again and you squeezed your eyes shut to try and ease it.

“The headaches will stop in time,” she said. Your eyes flew open. “They always have.”

“What?”

Mabel tilted her head and a crinkle formed between her eyes.

“Your headaches,” she said, her finger lifting to tap lightly against your left temple. “They always got worse when Nicky stopped suppressing.”

“Suppressing?”

Her sorrowful smile slipped into a frown.

"Yes," she said softly, "don't you remember?"

No.

"Well, I suppose that would defeat the point," she chuckled lightly. "He could suppress memories," she explained softly, gently, agonisingly. "He always chose the bad ones, of course."

No.

"I myself got a slight headache when he passed."

No.

"It's how I knew he was truly gone."

No!

"Y/N?"

You shoved past Mabel, forcing her back into the hall. The stairs passed under you four at a time until you were on the ground floor.

"Darling?-"

"-Where are you going?-"

"-It's 4 in the morning-"

"-Get back in the house."

Your parents' calls fell on deaf ears as you threw the front door open and stormed outside. Your feet picked up speed as you walked down the endless driveway. The moment they hit the pavement you broke out into a jog, then a sprint. Your shoes hit the pavement of the road in a steady rhythm.

"You really wanna know?" Nicky asked after taking another one of your chess pieces.

"You promised you would tell me," you said with a frown.

"How about I make it your graduation present," he teased. "Give you something to look forward to."

"Deal," you said with a smile. He knocked your king off the board.

The excessively large houses blurred as you ran down the street. Motion lights turned on and guard dogs barked when you passed by.

"That was the year they left us to fend for ourselves for the week," Nicky laughed with Yoko.

"I don't remember that," you said with a slight frown.

"You were, uh, too young," Nicky said with a smile and a pat on your back. "Not worth remembering anyway."

The houses thinned and were quickly replaced with trees. Your feet stumbled as pavement turned into dirt. Icy air froze your tired lungs, leaving a sensation of needles in your chest.

You pushed your feet faster.

"Nicky, I'm tired," you whined after tripping over your own feet again.

"Just a few more hours," he said. His shirt had finally dried and looked stiff. “Then we’ll be back at Nevermore.”

"You said that a few hours ago," you complained. "My skin is itchy."

"We'll wash it off later," he said. He wasn't even looking at you.

"Are they gonna find us?" You asked as you did a little jog to catch up to him and hold his hand.

"No," he said without hesitation. The dried blood was starting to flake off his forehead. The cut on his nose looked angry.

"Is this gonna give me bad dreams?" You asked in a small voice. He stopped in his tracks and picked you up, letting you crawl onto his back.

"Of course not," he said softly. "You won't even remember it."

The forest flew by. Each twig and branch that whipped across your face made you feel more and more alive. It was a feeling, and you needed a feeling. Anything, everything, whatever you could get.

Everything hurt. Oh god, it hurt so bad and you couldn’t scream.

“Hang on, kid, we’ve gotta get the door.”

“Where’s Nicky?” You asked. Your tongue felt heavy, like lead.

“Gotta get you first,” a man’s voice said. “Stay still.”

“Nicky?” You slurred; the words tasted of copper.

Your eyes fell to the top of the car that was now underneath you. It was covered in something shiny. Something red.

Your lungs couldn’t take it anymore. They couldn’t take the cold, couldn’t take the exertion, the stress, none of it. And it felt. You could feel them. The more you ran, the more it hurt and soon you could focus on the pain in your side instead of the pain in your head.

Memory suppression.

There was no thought about stopping, your feet just slowed their movements until you collapsed to your knees on the cold, damp forest floor. You felt the end of a stick dig into your hand, splitting the skin. The blood was warm; it was comforting. Each gasping breath felt like you were inhaling shards of glass, each one more painful than the last.

And it felt.

“I feel angry,” you said as you sat at the top of the wall and watched Nicky continue to climb.

“You always feel angry,” he grunted. He was stuck. As usual.

“I don’t know why,” you sighed. “I can’t think of anything that would make me angry.”

“It’ll go away,” he said as his face finally pulled up and you could look him in the eyes. “Good kids don’t stay angry.”

“Am I a good kid?” You asked softly. He smiled.

“The best.”

You let out the most feral, unhinged, excruciating scream you could possibly produce. It hurt your throat and left it feeling raw.

But it felt.

The sun had started to rise before you could get up from your position on the ground. Your knees were stiff and soaked to the bone and the stick in your hand had broken off. It would leave a splinter that would need to be dug out. There was a lingering ache in your throat and lungs and that migraine still wouldn’t go away. And when you started walking mindlessly back to the house, you could feel blisters on your feet and heels; a few of them even popped.

But at least it felt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?-”

“-We were about to call the police-”

“-You look like a stray dog-”

“-We just cleaned the entry-”

“-Where do you think you’re going?”

You couldn’t recall getting home. But you continued walking through the house as your parents called after you, practically dragging yourself up the stairs until you made it into your room. The door fell shut and the lock clicked into place and all you could do was fall back to your knees.

The cold wooden floor didn’t feel so bad. At least it felt.

—---

You wished you were numb again.

The day of mourning came and went, each second testing your patience and wearing you thin. You hadn’t slept, hadn’t showered, hadn’t even gotten up from your spot on the floor. You could hear your phone vibrating on the wood, almost loud enough to wake the dead. Maybe it would wake Nicky, you thought before finally checking it to make it stop.

Not even noon and you had 17 missed calls, 72 texts, and a plethora of messages from the vast array of other social media outlets. A large number were from Yoko, then Ajax, the rest of the group, and your family back home. Two or three calls from Momma Weems and your family. But your eyes started to sting when you saw the name for two messages.

Nicky.

You clicked on them immediately, desperately hoping to see what he had said. Something in the back of your head was screaming at you not to open them, not to get your hopes up. Your eyes trailed over the messages, reading them once, twice, three times before it finally clicked.

It wasn’t Nicky.

You had given Wednesday his phone.

You hadn’t ever changed the name.

Nicky: Thing wishes to know if you’ve made it back safe.

Nicky: I wish to know as well.

Fuck. Now you were making Wednesday feel things too? Why would she even care anyway. It wasn’t like she loved you anyway, wasn’t like she even really cared. You knew she didn’t do love, she had said it to her mother time and time again. Why would she care if you were safe.

Didn’t she know Nicky was the one who needed the attention?

You growled at nothing in particular before throwing your phone across the room, hearing the screen shatter when it hit the wall. The sound made you flinch and you instantly felt that guilty feeling deep in the pit of your stomach. It vibrated again.

You didn’t check it.

—---

“You need to eat something before you go,” Mabel urged you once again as you finished buttoning up your shirt.

“‘m not hungry,” you mumbled. Your fingers faltered on the buttons; it wasn’t fitting like it was supposed to.

“You haven’t eaten in five days,” she said in a far softer voice. It was humiliating.

“Too busy planning,” you said, finally deciding to give up and instead throwing a jacket over the crooked, too-big shirt. “I’ll eat when I’m dead.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

You moved past Mabel and went down the stairs to meet up with your parents. It was the day to finalise plans; something that you knew was going to cause argument after argument. There had already been too many screaming matches the past few days, none of which ever came to a definitive conclusion.

Maybe today would be different.

“That jacket is unprofessional,” your mother said with a slight frown.

“The shirt doesn’t fit,” you said without looking up at her. Your fingers toyed with the shattered phone in your pocket.

“We will have it tailored,” your mother sighed, “again.”

“We will discuss it later,” your father said as he ushered everyone to the car. “We need to get going so we won’t be late.”

You sat in the back with the both of them while Jenkins started the drive to the funeral home. With a thunk, your head hit the window and you looked out at the houses passing by. The harness was pulled painfully tight and your wings were already stiff, but you didn’t care. At least it felt, right?

The phone in your pocket vibrated, and you pulled it out slowly to look at the two new messages.

Yoko: You don’t have to answer me, but answer Wednesday. She’s losing her mind

Ash: just saw your pop in town. told me about nicky. im so sorry

You exhaled through your nose and slid the phone back into your pocket without answering. There was no time to answer anyone anyway, you had planning to do. Although you shouldn’t be, he was still the source of the migraine that refused to go away.

Memory suppression. Just the thought made you sick and your mouth feel like you had swallowed cotton. How could he do that? How could he just hide your memories from you? Your own memories. He had no fucking right, those were your memories, not his.

“We’re here.”

You pulled your head back from the window and blinked a few times, doing your best to hide the anger. As you uncurled your fists, you could feel your nails pulling out of the skin; you had left four perfect crescent shaped cuts on your palms. Thankfully your pants were black, and you wiped the slightest bit of blood off on the legs.

The next thing you remember is sitting in one of the chairs across from the funeral director. You couldn’t recall getting out of the car, or introducing yourself. Hopefully you had done well or you would get an earful once you left.

“Today you will select the casket and can order the headstone,” the funeral director said as he slid over a bunch of paper.

“Casket?” You asked, turning your head to look at your parents. “We never agreed on burial.”

“Your mother and I have made the executive decision,” your father said with a smile.

“Then make a different one,” you said with a slightly raised voice.

“I’ll give you three a moment,” the funeral director said with a professional smile. Everyone stayed silent as he grabbed a few things and left, shutting the door behind him.

“Do not question our decisions in front of strangers,” your father said, his polite smile falling immediately.

“He didn’t want to be buried,” you said. Your chest felt tight, like it was caught in vice grips.

“He shall be buried with the other Smiths,” your mother said while you chuckled humourlessly. You pushed your chair back and stood up, walking to the other side of the table and pacing.

“He said he didn’t want to be buried,” you argued; the migraine was back. “Said it creeped him out and he would rather be cremated.”

“We never heard him say such a thing,” your mother said with a sigh.

“Maybe because you were never there,” you scoffed before freezing in your tracks.

Instantly the atmosphere in the room changed from uneasiness to aggression. You could feel the hair on the back of your neck and arms stand up and your breath caught in your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I beg your pardon?”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry-”

“-We were never there?” Your father asked, louder this time.

You could hear the chair scrape against the floor and you turned your body to face him. He looked furious and the migraine came back stronger than before. Almost like someone was pushing glass into each individual fold of your brain. You could feel your palms getting sweaty.

Fight back, the voice in your head said. He abandoned us. Fight. Back.

“You weren’t there,” you said with a shaky voice. Be confident. “You left us and didn’t come back.”

“Did you ever stop to ask yourself why we would even consider doing such a thing?” Your father asked.

“Let’s focus on the burial,” your mother cut in, “we can talk about this later.”

“It’s because you produced two freak kids,” you said, your voice stronger, more confident. Your father walked around the table to come closer. Keep fighting. “Could you imagine if that got out?” He looked furious. “If anyone discovered that the high and mighty Smith family had two Outcast kids that they hid away-”

-your head jerked to the right as the slap echoed in the otherwise silent room. Keep it together, you thought as your lower lip started to quiver. You held back the stinging in your eyes as you stood up taller and turned back around to face him. It was times like this where you wished you were smaller so you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You will never say such a thing again,” he said as he jabbed a finger into your chest. “Do I make myself clear?”

Hit him back.

“Crystal,” you whispered through clenched teeth.

“He will be buried,” your father said with another jab. “That’s final.”

You could feel the persistent stinging of your cheek as you all sat down and the funeral director came back in. He didn’t comment. You didn’t prompt him to.

—---

Mabel had worked for the Smith family for 23 years, she knew when to hold her tongue. But when you all came back from the funeral home and she saw the new blooming bruise on your cheek, she felt a mix of anger and pity. She wouldn’t pretend you were the best at holding your tongue; you never had been. But your father also allowed you to push his buttons until he snapped.

She didn’t have to ask to know that was exactly what happened.

The days leading up to the funeral reminded her an awful lot of when you were younger, with the obvious differences. You were still reckless, almost even careless. Accidentally breaking things, roaming around the house without direction, doing anything and everything your heart desired without seeking permission or forgiveness.

There were times when she would be cleaning and would hear the sound of the grand piano lingering in the air, and she would sneak around the corner to watch you. Back ramrod straight, slender fingers poised perfectly over the keys, face completely neutral as you read the music on the stand. It was beautiful to hear you play again, and the occasional jazz tune that would sound when you were certain your mother wasn’t around was all the more enjoyable because of the slightest smile on your face.

Other times Mabel would catch you leaving the house without warning, not coming back until late in the night with dazed eyes and dried tear tracks on your cheeks. Those were the nights she would gently take you by the shoulders and guide you back up to your room. You did nothing to assist her as she cleaned you up and dressed you in something comfortable so she could put you to bed.

She did her best to ignore each and every new bruise or scratch or scar.

It was impossible to get you to eat. You dropped weight faster than she could keep track of, and no matter how many meals she left in your room, they always went untouched. She tried to keep small snacks like protein bars in your room in the hopes that you would eat them, but she had no way to tell if you did or not.

On evenings where guests would come over and you would be “encouraged” to socialise, she took note of the amount of drinks you would have each evening. It was always far too many, and she and Jenkins would end up carrying you back up to your bed before everyone had left for the night. You would always accept your scolding with a grimace and two Tylenol the next morning and go about your day.

You would pick fights with your parents. Never over anything important, always little things and they were starting to pick up on that as well. At first they had fought back, getting into screaming matches with you and sending you off to your room. But then you tried to start fights over the silverware, or the way your shoes fit, or even how bright the lights were in the room. It didn’t take long for your parents to stop arguing back and just ignore you.

Mabel noticed that almost made you more angry.

Other times, your parents would nit pick at you as well. Over your hair, or the style of clothing you wore. If you had worn the same shirt twice or tracked mud into the house. Your speech quickly became more "professional" and you selected your words carefully in an effort to retaliate. It was far less outwardly destructive, but Mabel could still see the damage it inflicted reflect in your eyes.

But through all of your anger and self destruction and attempts to grab anyone’s attention, you always treated her and Jenkins with the utmost kindness and respect. That was what reminded her of when you were young. It was in the gentle “thank yous” or the soft smiles when she would hand you something. The questions about her son, or about Jenkins’ wife and cats, or any of the neighbours.

She knew you were a good kid. She knew, and Jenkins knew, and that was probably what hurt them the most through it all. You were a good kid with no one to truly lean on and no one to help guide you through this loss. And they knew it was just going to build and build and build inside you until it exploded.

The day before the funeral was the day you would see Nicky for the last time, and Mabel could see the fear and anger in your eyes. She and Jenkins had fully prepared themselves for your mental state when you got back, but even they couldn’t have prepared themselves fully.

You came into the house dazed, not hearing a single thing your parents were saying. But then it was like a switch had been flipped and you clenched your jaw before making a snide remark back to your mother. It didn’t take long to turn into a screaming match, and Mabel and Jenkins watched in horror as you balled up your fist and swung at your father.

The fear in his own eyes was evident even though your fist connected with the brick wall beside him; whether on purpose or not, you had missed him completely. Tears fell from your eyes and you screamed again as your father pulled you into a hug. Mabel watched helplessly as you tried to push him away before finally giving in and crying into his shoulder.

You held onto him like your life depended on it as your blood dripped down the pristine, white walls of the house.

“Your tie is crooked,” Mabel told you on the morning of the funeral. You had been struggling to get ready for over an hour, and no amount of makeup could hide the bags under your eyes or the lingering bruise on your cheek.

“So are these fucking buttons,” you mumbled as you ripped your dress shirt open to start over. She could feel you getting angry again. It was probably from the lack of sleep.

Or lack of food.

Or lack of help in general.

“Stay still,” Mabel huffed, setting the laundry basket down on your bed and standing in front of you.

You sighed, but remained still as she got to work on your shirt. It had been tailored only a few days before and still seemed a bit big again; it broke her heart. But she did her best to ignore it and focused on buttoning up your shirt properly. Your violent treatment had loosened two or three buttons, but she certainly wasn’t going to bring that up to you.

“How have your school ties survived this long if you can’t do them yourself?” She asked, her eyes darting up to meet yours. She almost thought you smiled.

“Wednesday always fixes them for me,” you said. You didn’t look down, but that was alright, she was focused on your tie anyway.

“You like this girl?” She asked softly. If your parents heard, they would have started screaming.

“A lot,” you answered just as softly. “I think I love her.”

“That’s a big emotion for you,” she said not unkindly.

“I hope I don’t fuck it up,” you whispered.

“You won’t,” she said with a smile as she patted your tie down. “You’re all set.”

You turned to look up at the mirror, eyes squinting and your jaw clenching before you relaxed. Mabel kept her smile to herself; she didn’t want to unintentionally encourage you to fight the reflection. You stood up straight and pressed your tie flat once again before slipping the suit jacket on.

“Thank you, Mabel,” you said softly, and you quickly leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Your lips were chapped, but it was expected.

“I’ll see you when you get home,” she said with a smile. You smiled back once, halfheartedly, before walking out of the room.

She really hoped your anger wouldn’t explode at the funeral.

—---

The whole car ride made Wednesday feel sick to her stomach. It had been a short flight down to D.C. and now she, Thing, Yoko, and Weems were finishing the trip with the short drive to the funeral. The rest of the gang had opted to stay at Nevermore for the time being; they didn't want to overwhelm you. The funeral was supposed to be outside, or so your mother had said, but it looked like rain. Usually perfect for such an occasion.

Just not this one.

She checked the phone again, hoping you had finally answered. It was a foolish hope, she knew that much, but it still resided in her chest. No one had heard anything from you since you had left the harvest festival, not even Yoko or your family. She shouldn’t have expected you to answer her of all people.

But she hoped you would have.

“We shall give her space,” Weems said once she pulled the car through the gates to the cemetery. It was connected to the reception hall, where everyone would go after the service.

It reminded Wednesday an awful lot of the cemetery back home.

“Except you, Addams,” Yoko said, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts.

“Why me?” She asked.

“You give her peace,” Weems answered.

Well, that was comforting; surprising, Wednesday knew. To know that everyone else could see her effect on you; had they seen your effect on her? They probably had. Enid certainly had, and that was more than enough torture. But if they said she gave you peace, then who was she to argue.

Once the car was parked, everyone got out. Thing climbed onto her shoulder as she unfolded the umbrella. She waited patiently as Weems and Yoko got out as well, each holding their own umbrellas, before they started the short walk to the grave.

It seemed the rain had ruined the original funeral plans, seeing how no one was sitting anymore and the chairs were in the process of being removed. Wednesday and the small group stood off to the side and waited. They hadn’t exactly been invited, but who was going to stop them? Especially at a funeral.

You were one of the lead pallbearers, the one on the front left. Wednesday felt her heart drop into her stomach at the sight of you; dark eyes, clothes hanging off your smaller frame, your wings invisible beneath your suit jacket. But the worst part was you didn’t seem sad. No, you looked angry.

After lowering the casket back to the ground, you hesitated, your fingers running across the wood before you walked to stand near your parents. They tried to offer you an umbrella but you ignored them. You simply stood in the rain, looking down at Nicky’s casket as an old, unsteady man started talking.

Wednesday simply watched you the whole time. Watched the difference in your posture, your back straight and head up. She took note of the way you clasped your hands in front of you even though she could see the scabbed over skin pulled taut across your knuckles. She watched the muscles in your jaw tighten and relax, over and over and over as you blinked too many times to keep the tears at bay.

You were upset, rightfully so, but Wednesday couldn’t have found you more beautiful. Not because you were suffering, not because you were struggling, but because you were. You were handling everything so well, at least on the outside, and she couldn’t help but admire the way the rain fell down your face, caressing the skin in comfort.

Your family, you included, looked impeccable standing there together. Wednesday could only imagine how powerful all of you would have looked if the four of you had been together; you, Nicky, and your parents. Standing there in perfectly tailored suits, manicured to perfection, neutral expressions on your faces. Is that how you would have looked if you had stayed with them? Would she have had the same pull toward you?

She waited until the funeral itself was over before making her way to your side. Everyone else - including Thing - had gone inside to escape the rain and start the reception, but you didn’t move a muscle. Her shoulder brushed against your arm when she got close enough, and for a moment your shoulders fell and your jaw unclenched.

“I’m tired, Wends,” you said in such a quiet voice that Wednesday almost couldn’t hear you over the rain. “And I feel alone.”

Time to use the comfort teachings everyone had been helping her with for the past two weeks. They had drilled it into her head time and time again, through all hours of the day and night until she could recite it properly. It was robotic sounding, she knew that much, but it was a start. She hoped it would work.

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Wednesday said. You stiffened beside her. “But you are not alone.”

“Did Yoko teach you that?” You asked, immediately catching on. She should have known better.

“I-,” don’t lie, “-yes,” she admitted. “I’m not particularly adept at comfort.”

“I don’t want comfort,” you said, turning to look at her. The rain had finally started washing off the makeup from your face and she thought she could see something on your cheek. “I don’t want pity. I want you to be real with me.”

“Real?” Wednesday inquired with furrowed brows.

“Yes, Wednesday, real,” you huffed. “Be real with me and tell me what you’re thinking.”

Now that you had put her on the spot, she wasn’t sure what she was thinking. She was thinking of the now-obvious bruise on your cheek and where it had possibly come from. She was thinking of the bags under your eyes if you had been getting enough sleep, which clearly you hadn’t.

Part of her was thinking of her own parents, as unusual as it would be. How they had fallen in love at a funeral and had confessed their undying devotion to each other. Funerals had always been a romantic event for the Addams family, and she was aware this was for your brother, but she couldn’t deny she knew what her parents had meant every time they reminisced.

Oh. That’s what she was thinking.

“I am thinking…,” she paused, blinking at you twice, three times and looking away. You wanted real. She looked back up at you to meet your probing gaze. “I love you.”

Your brows knit together as you looked away from her for a moment.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“You asked what I was thinking,” Wednesday clarified slowly. “I was simply thinking that I-”

“-Don’t say it again,” you interrupted.

And right there, right then, Wednesday felt her cold dead heart break in her chest.

“You did not just say that,” you said with a huff. “Did you really just confess?”

“Yes,” Wednesday said indignantly. “It’s what I was thinking at the moment.”

“We’re at my brother’s funeral, Wednesday,” you said, far louder this time. “Do you really think this is the time?”

“You asked,” she said again. “Why would you ask if you didn’t want to know?”

“I can’t,” you said as you held your hands up and started backing up. “I just- I can’t do this right now.”

Wednesday let her umbrella fall as she watched you walk off toward the reception hall with hands on your head, covering your ears. She could feel the rain slowly seeping through her coat, but all she could really focus on was you. Only you, and how her father had been right.

Love was agony.

—---

You were going to be sick. You could feel it in your chest, your lungs, your stomach. Your mouth wouldn’t stop salivating and you were going to be sick. How could she say that? How could she tell you that now? Your palms were sweaty when you dragged them down your face, ignoring the makeup that you wiped off with it.

It should have been exciting to hear Wednesday say such a thing. She was capable of love, a genuine love, and had even felt so strongly as to verbally tell you as such. And it had been ruined because they had killed Nicky and now you couldn’t even enjoy the single fucking good thing in your life.

You felt sick.

Your parents were standing in the middle of the room, talking and laughing with some lawyer or congressman or senator or whoever the fuck else could put up with them long enough to talk. It was like they weren’t even upset, they weren’t even devastated that their son, their first born, was currently being buried six feet under. Didn’t they care?

You felt sick.

Weems, Yoko, and Thing were off to the side, talking with each other. They looked up, almost as if sensing your staring, and gave you sad smiles. They pity you, the voice in your head spat in disgust. You frowned at the thought and turned around, looking for someone, anyone to talk to. Hell, at that point you would’ve taken the old man off to the side that was giving you a look that made you rather uncomfortable.

Your eyes fell on a couple standing next to the fireplace, talking quietly with each other. Something about them seemed familiar, but you couldn’t quite place from where. But you stopped caring when you saw the subtle cloud of smoke fall from the taller one’s lips and you quickly made your way over.

“Mind if I steal a hit?” You asked when you got nearby. The taller one smiled sadly.

“Sure,” they said as they handed the vape over.

You grabbed it and brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply. It scalded your throat and stung your lungs as you held it in for far too long before slowly exhaling. You watched the smoke as it evaporated into the air, leaving nothing but a sickeningly sweet smell in its place.

“That’s disgusting,” you mumbled as you handed it back to them. The shorter one still hadn’t looked up from the hole they were staring into the ground.

“It’s marshmallow,” they chuckled.

“Like I said,” you said, “disgusting.”

“You’re Nicky’s sister,” they said with a half smile, avoiding your gaze by looking out at the crowd again.

“You’re a couple of strangers,” you said.

“I’m Casey,” they chuckled lightly, “and this is Devon.”

Devon finally looked up and eyed you up and down before looking back to the crowd with the slightest hint of a sneer. If you hadn’t spent so much time with Wednesday, you would’ve missed it. What could they possibly be sneering at you for? It was your brother’s funeral. You felt the muscles in your jaw tighten.

“He talked about you a lot,” Casey said softly.

“How would you know?” You asked way more harshly than necessary. Part of you didn’t care. Okay, none of you cared. “He hasn’t exactly done much talking recently.”

“The three of us were… close,” they said with a distracted nod.

“He was in a coma for four years,” you scoffed, “how close could you be.” You reached over and took the vape from their hand and brought it to your mouth for another hit.

“We were his partners.”

You choked on the smoke, leaving your throat raw and scratchy. Your head spun to look at Casey and Devon, eying them to see any sort of discrepancies in their body language. If Wednesday had taught you one thing, it was how to tell if someone was lying. Avoiding eye contact, licking their lips, anything.

There wasn’t a single sign.

He hadn’t told you he was dating anyone. Why hadn’t he told you? Surely he would have, you two told each other everything. He was your big brother, for fuck sake, he would have told you. Right?

Right?

“We loved him too,” Casey said softly; they still weren’t looking at you.

He lied. He fucking lied.

You looked out at the crowd and took another hit of the vape. Then another. And another. And a fourth one for good measure. It felt like your lungs were going to burn themselves to embers, but you didn’t care. At least it felt. After a fifth hit, you slipped it back into Casey’s hand and continued looking out at the crowd.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice now hoarse and deeper than usual.

“We’ll get through it,” they said. “He’ll get his justice.”

They know he deserves justice too, the voice in the back of your head said. You couldn’t argue with it. But what else could you say? It was too much and you had too many questions. Where had they met? How long had they known Nicky? How long had it been going on?

You felt sick.

You didn’t bother saying anything else to them before walking off, walking through a haze until you ended up with the group your parents were talking to. A few of them tried talking to you, giving their most insincere condolences before going back to their conversations.

It was disgusting. Watching them laugh and talk as if you weren’t standing at a funeral reception. As if you hadn’t been standing at Nicky’s literal graveside less than an hour ago. Heartless, the voice said, they killed him and are using it as an excuse to socialise.

“I can’t recall what caused his condition,” one of the men said when there was a lull in the conversation.

“A car wreck,” your father said with a few mindless nods of his head.

“That’s tragic,” a woman said. “Drunk driver?”

“An Outcast, actually,” your father answered.

Wait.

“What did you say?” You asked, drawing everyone’s attention.

You felt something tug on your pants, and your eyes darted down for just long enough to see Thing. He was wearing a little black bowtie around one of his fingers. But you weren’t focusing on him; you were too busy thinking about what your father had said.

“I said an Outcast caused the wreck that killed my son,” your father continued. His back straightened as he kept eye contact with you.

“Abominations, the lot of them,” a man huffed before taking another drink of the wine in his glass.

Thing pulled at your pants leg again. You kicked him away, listened to the subtle sound of him scuttling across the floor. Thankfully no one else had noticed him.

“An Outcast didn’t kill him,” you bit back. “You two were the ones that pulled his life support.”

The group around you fell silent, now beyond interested in the conversation. Any chance to get a good helping of gossip, of course. That was how all socialites worked, especially when another socialite was involved. In this case it was your parents; they were going to be the talk of the town for a year.

“No son of mine should have to exist as a vegetable simply because we couldn’t be merciful,” your mother said. “Especially because of some sinful abomination.”

“Stop calling them abominations,” you growled through clenched teeth.

Your fingers were starting to ache as they curled into fists at your side. Your pulse was rushing in your ear and for a moment, you felt your chest was going to explode. That your heart would beat faster and faster, harder and harder until it finally broke free.

You took a single step closer.

“If it were up to me, I’d have them all euthanised,” your father said as he smiled at you with his “show everyone we’re perfect” smile. You took another step forward until you were almost directly in front of him. “The world would be a much better place.”

The sounds of the world muffled in your ears, and all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing. Erratic, shallow, rushed. Something dripped down your neck and your jaw felt like it was going to crack under the pressure. That migraine came roaring back as you stared into your father’s eyes.

Do it.

Your fist connected with his nose before you could even comprehend what was happening. The people around you gasped and stepped back as your father fell to the ground. One of his hands attempted to stop the flow of blood while he held the other out in front of him.

But you saw red.

You knelt down on top of him, only one thing on your mind as you grabbed his shirt collar. He almost looked remorseful for a moment. But only for a moment. Again. You tightened your grip on his collar as you swung again. And again. And again.

Harder.

You could hear Nicky in the back of your head, screaming and pounding against the inside of your skull. Telling you to stop, begging you to let your father go. Each time Nicky pounded against your skull, you threw another punch. And another. Something wet slid down your cheeks and you couldn’t stop.

Something wrapped around your waist and yanked you back. Hard. The wind flew out of your lungs and you instantly grabbed onto the arms around you. You tried to pull them off but your hands were slick and you couldn’t get a good hold. You were stuck.

“Y/N, stop,” the voice said into your ear. Weems?

“Say it again,” you shouted at your father who was frozen on the ground, bruised eyes focused on you. “Say it again, you fucking coward.”

“Breathe,” another voice said before someone stepped in front of you. Yoko?

“You're defending the group that killed your brother,” your mother said as she knelt down to look at your father’s injuries. He was wheezing and covered in blood. "You should do this to them instead."

You tried to lunge forward again, and the arms around your waist almost gave out. You threw a leg out, hoping to kick him while he was down. Just one more. But the arms around your waist tightened again, and Yoko grabbed your flailing feet until you were being carried out of the room.

“Don’t you fucking touch them,” you shouted as you continued attempting to fight and Weems and Yoko struggled to carry you. “I’ll fucking kill you next time.”

You felt sick.

The cold air and rain hit you like a brick wall when you were finally outside. The arms and hands holding you back let go and you fell onto the ground as you stared at the now-closed doors of the reception hall. Your frantic breathing was the only thing you could hear.

“Breathe.”

Another face came into view, and almost instantly your breath caught in your throat. Wednesday’s eyes were wide and focused on your face. They were bloodshot; why were they bloodshot? Her hands were poised to touch you, to check you for injuries, but the moment you felt her hand on your arm you flinched.

You saw red. Only red. You wanted to hurt something. Someone. You didn’t give a fuck who it was, you just wanted to make someone else hurt the way you were hurting. To swing at whoever was closest.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you said as you crawled back across the ground. Wednesday immediately let go.

I don’t want to hurt you, you thought as you pushed yourself up to your feet until you could start stumbling away. Shaky fingers unbuttoned your jacket and ripped the buttons off your shirt until you could reach the harness. They were calling after you; you didn’t know what they were saying. The harness hit the ground and the moment your wings unfurled, you jumped into the air.

You had nearly hurt Wednesday.

You felt sick.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday imagine #everyone but her au

653 notes · View notes

billys-pretty-babe · 7 months

Text

How Could You?

Pairing : Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary : Sometimes, Billy needs reassurance that you love him especially after Neil gets into his head, using your name against Billy, knowing that hurts worse than when his father puts his hands on him.

Warnings : child abuse, Neil Hargrove, swearing, Billy makes a sex joke 😐

Word count : 835

A/N : My mental health has been so bad recently so this might be my last fic for a while that I actually take time to write. I have stuff in my drafts ready to post in case I need them.

It hurts you deeply, seeing him like this, so vulnerable, so hurt by his own father. Neil left with Susan, leaving Max and Billy at the house. Max was the one to call you, she heard everything that happened, and heard every word that Neil spewed at your boyfriend. You're pretty sure you broke almost every law in town to get to him, needing to be with him.

She let you into the house, hugging you quickly. "I left water and Tylenol outside of his room, I don't know if he took it." You nodded and thanked her and she went to her room as you went to Billy's, the water and medicine nowhere in sight. You knocked and walked inside, seeing him in his bed, shirtless and in shorts.

He looked at his ceiling, holding his necklace tightly and you knew the chain was digging into the skin, making it raw. "Baby," you said quietly. He didn't take his eyes off of the ceiling as he hummed to you, acknowledging you. You shut his door behind you and moved to the edge of his bed, his ankle against the bottom of your back.

Your heart sank when you saw what exactly Neil did to him, "Oh baby." He shook his head, "Don't do that, not for me. I'm not deserving of that." Still, his eyes never left the ceiling. "Yes you are." He shook his head, "I'm not, trust me." Slowly and with calculated movements, you reached for his knee, gently rubbing it, doing your best to not get knots in the brunette hair that dusted the skin.

"Why aren't you?" He sighed, "Because I'm not." You hummed, "That's not an actual answer, B." He stayed quiet. "Do you want me to leave," you asked after a few minutes of silence. "No," he deadpanned. You nodded, "Okay," you said as you got comfortable, sitting beside him, gently yanking a pillow out from underneath him.

The room was silent besides Billy's ragged breathing, his adrenaline through the roof as he tried to calm down. "Do you love me?" You looked at him, "Of course I do." He hummed, "Okay." You sighed before speaking again, "It was after our second date, when you brought me back here and you were working on that junk bike. You were so open with me, I was able to ask you anything and you immediately answered. I got to know William, not Billy or the keg king, but William Hargrove. So yeah, I can positively say that I do indeed love you, a lot more than I could ever express."

He nodded, hand reaching for yours and you held it, seeing little cuts on his knuckles. "Did you hit him back?" He shook his head, "I think I'd be dead if I did. Punched the bathroom wall, there's a hole now so I moved the picture over it." You nodded and rubbed his knuckles gently. "Did you break anything?" He shook his head, "Already checked myself like you taught me to." You nodded.

"Is it hard to love me?" You shook your head, "It's second nature for me, like breathing." He nodded and looked at you quickly, "You forget how to breathe sometimes." You grumbled and he laughed. "Shut up, Billy." His laugh made you smile, usually it was something just for you. "Imagine forgetting how to breathe that you have to watch your boyfriend do it." You rolled your eyes, "Imagine eating fucking bubbles in the shower." He thumped your thigh, "That was one time because you blew bubbles at me."

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, murmuring, "I love you." You smiled, "I love you too now give me a kiss." He laughed and tipped your head back before kissing you. You smiled when he pulled away, "Man, is this what Disney is like?" He laughed, "I mean, you do get to ride your favorite ride." You gasped and he laughed, placing his hand on his stomach as his shoulders shook, head thrown back and you laughed with him.

"Billy, that's inappropriate." He snickered, "Look at who you're talking to. Of course it was." You laughed and shook your head, looking at the bottle of Tylenol on his bedside table. "Go tell her thank you." He groaned as he got up, trudging next door before coming back a few minutes later and he laid back down. "Need me to mend anything?" He shook his head, “I'm good, maybe my dick." You sighed, "Billy, shut up." He laughed before Max piped up through the wall.

"Yeah Billy, shut up!" You both laughed and he knocked on the wall, "Shut it, Maxine!" You laughed, shaking your head and got comfortable, kicking your shoes off. You curled up against his side, trying to be aware of his bruises and sore spots. "Love you." You smiled, "I love you too." He talked to you until you fell asleep, holding you tightly to protect you from anything and everything.

#billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things billy #william hargrove #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x female reader #stranger things fanfiction #billy stranger things #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove

251 notes · View notes

josiesullysblog · 1 year

Text

Emotions

~AGED UP Neteyam x reader, platonic sully family x reader

~ANGSTTTTTT, little fluff

~Proofread?- no

~Summary-[Y/n] is naturally gorgeous, and a bubbly girl. Just by the way she carries herself, you’d never know what happens at home.

TW: Parental abuse will be mentioned and signs of unstable mental illness please read at your own discretion.

***

From the moment you were born, you were a ray of sunshine. You always smiled, only cried when hurt, and had great manners. Many people, including Jake, constantly questioned your parents about how they were able to get you so calm. They’d simply laugh and say, “she’s just a perfect angel,” but the truth was they enlisted fear into you. You can remember the first incident. You were playing alone as usual, when your mother took the little wood Ikran out of your hand. “I told you to have this place tidy,” your mother said looking down on you.

She was a clean freak, expecting you to be the exact same. So, every day you’d clean, the best you could for a child. You did it no questions asked, but today you hadn't done it. There was nothing to clean, so you grabbed some toys and started playing. “But everything is already cleaned,” your words set her off immediately she grabbed you and dragged you towards the woods, “mommy where are we going?” you said as her feet became quicker.

“I should've done this sooner,” once she made sure she was deep enough she let go of you. You looked around not recognizing your whereabouts, “where are we? Is dada coming soon?” you said getting closer to the woman. She immediately pushed you away, “get away from me,” you looked at her dumbfounded, “Mommy, why are you doing this?” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you grabbed her hand tightly, “did you not hear me? I said get away!” This time her words rang through the forest you were in, and she pushed you to the ground. Sobs fell out of your mouth, “why are you trying to leave me?”

She grabbed your cheeks looking you dead in the eye, “because I don't want you.” You cried hard as she tried walking but you kept following, “please, mommy don't leave!” she stopped walking and fell to the floor crying herself, “I don't understand mommy” you cried as the woman put herself into a ball. “I’m so sorry baby,” she said grabbing you, “Mommy didn't mean to hurt you.” Your body was exhausted from all your crying and walking, and you collapsed in her arms. “It’s okay mommy.” You still didn't know why she did that, but you knew you didn't want to be left out there.

Your father wasn't any better. He believed emotions were a waste of time, you found it funny how he ended up with someone like your mother, constantly crying and emotional. From a young age, he’d force this “emotionless” persona onto you telling you, “you can't let your womanly emotions consume you [Y/n].” Tears threatened to fall as you held your favorite toy snapped into two pieces. “You don’t want to end up like your mother, now do you?” he grabbed your chin making you look at him, “What's wrong with being like mommy?”

His eyes darkened as he gripped your chin harder, “everything,” you fought in his grip before he let go. Your mother walked in before sitting by your father, “don’t fill our child’s head with nonsense it's okay to cry,” you looked between them as your mother held a lovesick face at your father, and he held disgust. “Shut up, all you do is cry,” he got up patted your head and left.

Your mother's eyes lingered on you, “promise me you’ll never love anyone the way I loved your father,” you nodded your head quickly before heading out of the room, “I want to hear you say it.” You looked back at her, “but that's mean to dada,” She stood up quickly, “as if he cares for us,” you didn't know what to say so you stayed silent. “Say it, child.” You fidgeted from one foot to another. “I’ll never love anyone the way you loved him,” She smiled at you before sitting down. Funny how that was the one promise you would end up breaking.

You met Neteyam when your father dragged you along with him to meet up with Jake. You quietly sat down and waited when the little boy appeared. He held a big fish in his hands, a smile on his face. “Look what I caught!” he flashed the fish to everyone. His eyes landed on you and he walked up smiling, “look at what I caught!” you looked around making sure your parents weren't around before acknowledging him, “nobody likes a bragging tongue.” He looked at you puzzled, “I don't know what that means.”

Obviously, you couldn't get that from anywhere. It was a saying your mother said to you. After she caught you showing your new birthday toys off, “Ewya does not like a bragging tongue, child,” you sat with tears in your eyes as she threw them down the river. “I wasn't bragging they asked to see!” you sobbed. Your mother hit your mouth, indicating for you to shut up. “I know what I saw, child. Do you dare lie to me?” You attempted to stop your sobs, while they were trapped in the back of your throat. “No, mommy.”

Before you could answer him, his father came out taking his attention away from you, “dad look what I caught!” Jake smiled big petting the top of his head, “good job!” His positive response confused you, but your father grabbed you quickly. “Was my little girl bothering you, son?” you shook your head, ready to defend yourself. “No, I was showing her my fish!” Your father smiled as Jake waved at you, “you know I have a little girl, you should go play with her,” he offered looking at your father who pushed you a little, “it's alright with me.”

Neteyam gave his fish to his dad before grabbing your hand, “my sister's name is Kiri, I think you’ll like her even though she can be a bit bossy sometimes.” You let him talk, as you pulled up to where his siblings were playing, “Kiri! I have a new friend for you!” Kiri’s head shot up, and you gave a small wave. In an instant, you both clicked running around and playing.

After trying to catch your breath, you lay down in the grass as the moon came out, “[Y/n], when we get older I want you to be my sister!” She breathlessly said, you nodded as you noticed two figures walking towards you two, “so that means you have to mate with Neteyam,” your face scrunched at the idea of mating. Your mother said only fools mate, “I can only do it if he agrees.” Kiri clapped, “he’s been wanting to play with you for weeks! He won’t mind!”

The two figures showed themselves as Jake and Neytiri. “You both ready to come home?” You got up quickly remembering you should've been home an hour ago. “Bye Kiri! I have to get home,” you ran as far as your little legs could take you. “She was fun!” Kiri said as Neytiri watched you intently. Something was off.

You walked right into your little home to your mom wailing on the floor, “mommy are you okay?” your mother's eyes landed on you gripping you tight, “my child, where have you been?” she forced you to lie on the floor with her, “dada helped me make new friends!” she made a terrible face as if the idea of friends were the worst thing ever. “Child, you know what friends become right?” you shook your head, “mates, and if you mate I’d be all alone. Left here to die,” you immediately shook your head, “I’d never forget you, mommy, I’d visit you every day!” she shook her head, “you must promise me to never mate.” You hesitated before speaking, “I promise, mommy,” your words gave her comfort before you fell asleep.

Neytiri knew. She saw the way you held yourself, you were so mature for your age. She never trusted your mother, but she never wanted to overstep. She feared they’d take you away. She voiced her fears as she watched her children play. You all were much older now, Kiri and Lo’ak were 17, and you and Neteyam were 18. “I fear there is something wrong with [Y/n].” Jake, who was sharpening his makeshift knife, looked up at her, “why do you say that?” Neytiri had no real reason to say it, but she believed there was something wrong. “My gut tells me, she is in danger,” Jake stood up and kissed her forehead, “nothing is wrong with her, and if she is in any trouble we will be right here.” His words gave her comfort, as she watched you walk towards them with beads in your hand.

“Good evening, Mrs. and Mr. Sully!” you had become very gorgeous, to your mother's dismay. You attracted many Na’vi but you still forced yourself to listen to your mother. At least that's what you liked to tell yourself, it was mainly because you wanted Neteyam to court you. You dreamed of the day you’d get to leave your mother. Counting the days down to your ceremony, you’d never tell anyone of the abuse and neglect you were subject to because you were afraid. Afraid of what your parents might do, so it was a secret even to the family that basically adopted you. Neteyam and you became very close, you and him sneaking off and enjoying each other's company. You wished you could truly open up to him, but fear paralyzed you.

“I just wanted to give these to Kiri!” you said beaming at them. Neytiri wrapped her hands around you, something you still have not gotten used to. “Let me do your hair, little one,” you fidgeted your hands, estimating how long it could take. You promised to clean your little area today. “Okay, but make it quick!”

Neteyam watched from a distance as his mother did your hair, “what's taking you forever to ask her?” Lo’ak asked as he pretended to puke watching Neteyam’s lovesick face, “I plan to do it this coming week,” he shoved Lo’ak jokingly.

Neytiri softly parted your hair as she noticed you keeping track of time, “[Y/n], you know you are loved by us, right?” you sighed, “of course!” Jake watched as your mannerisms changed. Your hands attempted to cover yourself, while you moved your feet. “So, if something was happening you’d tell us?” Your heart fell to your stomach, did they know? You couldn't lie, as you attempted to think of a half truth and half lie, Neteyam came.

“Hello, pretty,” he sat by you, interlocking your fingers with his. “I missed you,” you told him as he smiled big. “Finished,” Neytiri was mad her son interrupted the conversation, but she saw the way you both lit up at the mention of the other. You two were in love.

As you became carried away, you stopped checking time. So, when you looked around you and noticed you were late you became pale. “Is everything alright?” Neteyam said looking at you. You jolted up, “I forgot I had to head home early, I’ll see you tomorrow!” You ran off with no explanation.

“She forgot her beads,” Tuk said, Neteyam sighed, “I’ll bring them to her.” Neytiri looked at him, “I’ll come along,” Neteyam was going to question when Kiri spoke, “tell her I said I need the other ones, not these,” as she, Tuk, and Lo’ak walked home.

“Why are you all coming?” Neteyam asked, “why not, we haven't seen her parents in a long time.” He shrugged satisfied with the response and kept walking.

You stood at the side of your home, broom in hand as your mother screamed at you. It was another one of her episodes and the look in her eyes scared you. “You promised me you’d clean. YOU LAIR!” tears threatened to fall as she hurled insults at you. She fell to the floor patting it, feeling it for filth. “You call this clean?” She yelled at you.

Her yells were heard by Jake who stepped forward, “is that [Y/n]?” Neteyam stepped closer to hear when a scream was heard, “WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT USING THIS? YOU NEVER LISTEN, YOU UNGRATEFUL CHILD. EWYA HATES THE ONES WHO BRAG AND ALL YOU DO IS RUB IT IN MY FACE HOW MUCH BETTER OFF YOU ARE!”

She grabbed you pushing you to the floor, “momma stop!” you covered your head while she hit you, “YOU RUINED MY LIFE!” Neteyam had heard enough before throwing the woman off you, “what’s going on in here?” Jake and Neytiri walked in. Neytiri gasping at your appearance. Half an hour ago, you were smiling and now you had bruises covering your body.

“YOU WHORE! YOU BROUGHT YOUR MATE TO COME TO KILL ME OFF?” sobs left your mouth as you stood up, “Mama, please stop,” the woman stood up heading your direction, “your father was right, you were just a mistake.”

“THAT'S ENOUGH!” Jake grabbed the woman away before taking her out of the tent, with her gone you fell to the floor weeping. “Oh [Y/n] it's okay,” Neteyam hugged you as you fell into his embrace. “I’ll never be good enough for her.”

Neytiri felt tears fall from her face as she noticed her worst fear become reality. Neteyam held you as his mind kept replaying what your mother said. How long as this been going on for? Why didn't you say anything? He’d hold his questions for later, right now he knew he needed to be here.

***

Lazy ending I know, but I'm tired and was supposed to be done by 9! But hope you enjoy it!

#avatar way of water #neteyam #avatar #avatar loak #avatar neytiri #jake sully #neteyam x y/n #avatar tuk #neytiri #loak x reader #sully family x reader

802 notes · View notes