#tree stump r

[chrisstumps05]

“Epic Root Ball Grinding Watch Me Tackle a Giant Stump!”

[yarnpika]

ok im calling this done bc i dont wanna work on it anymore!!! this is thunderclan camp for my ttrpg i plan to run!

i plan on working on the other camps next! maybe riverclan- i love their little reed houses

[thscharmngman]

“There’s something bothering you that you’re not telling me and I can see it slowly destroying you. What happened?” - Viola

Hartley looks to her with bleak eyes. He's aged, and now sporting gray hair in his beard than his usual dark brown. Sighing, he answers. "I uh, it's complicated." Though, they've made a promise to each other they'd always talk, express how they felt. "Do you think it's not too late to settle down?"

[delightfulgalaxykid]

sitting on two new flipaclip projects

like a vinesauce lil tidbit and the fun song bcs i had a brain blast sob sob

i keep coming back to were i ended off the audio too because this comes right after

[23victoria]

𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝔂 𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓳𝓪𝓬𝓴

​​pairings: 𝓯1 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

synopsis: 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓪𝓭𝓶𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷

word count:

authors note: 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓼𝓸 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓪 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮, 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓾𝓭𝓸 ;)

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Lewis

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but watching Lewis chop down a tree was more attractive than you could’ve prepared for. His beanie sat low over his braids, and his tailored winter coat somehow still showed off his lean figure as he worked. He was taking his time, pausing every now and then to adjust his grip on the saw.

��You okay over there?” he called, catching you staring.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you replied, lips pressed together to keep yourself from grinning too wide.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re making it very hard to focus on Christmas right now,” you said, pushing off the car to walk closer.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to sawing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the man chopping wood like he’s auditioning for a holiday romance movie,” you teased, standing just close enough to admire the way his muscles moved under his coat.

When the tree finally toppled over, Lewis turned to you, his smile soft and inviting. “So, what do you think? Still distracted?”

“Very,” you admitted, stepping into his space and wrapping your arms around his waist. “Think you can distract me more?”

“I’ll try,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you.

Charles

Charles was doing his best, really. He had one hand on the axe and the other bracing the tree, his face scrunched up in concentration. The axe was slightly too big for him, but he wasn’t giving up.

“Almost there!” he exclaimed, breathless, his accent wrapping around the words as he gave the tree another swing.

You leaned against the side of the car, your head tilted as you admired him. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and the sleeves of his sweater were pushed up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms. God, the forearms.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you murmured, eyes sweeping over him appreciatively. “Take your time, baby. No rush.”

He glanced back at you, chest heaving, a strand of dark hair falling into his face. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“No reason,” you replied, biting back a grin as you watched him plant his feet and take another swing.

When the tree finally came down, Charles threw his hands up in triumph, laughing. “Voilà!”

“Very impressive,” you teased, stepping closer to loop your arms around his waist. “You know, you look really good with that axe.”

His eyebrows raised. “Do I?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. “Good enough to make me forget about decorating the tree.”

Carlos

Carlos had insisted on chopping the tree down himself, despite your offers to help. He had his jacket unzipped and his scarf hanging loosely around his neck, clearly starting to warm up from the effort. His strong hands gripped the axe expertly, his movements steady and deliberate as he worked.

“Looking good, Sainz,” you called, leaning casually against a nearby stump.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “I always look good, cariño.”

“Mhm, mhmm,” you hummed, your gaze fixed on the way his biceps flexed with each swing. You weren’t even trying to hide the fact that you were ogling him.

Carlos noticed, of course. “You’re not even looking at the tree.”

“That’s because I’m looking at something much more interesting,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

With one last swing, the tree fell, and Carlos turned to you, resting the axe on his shoulder. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re too attractive for your own good,” you replied, stepping closer and tugging lightly on his scarf. “Think we have time to christen the cabin before we decorate?”

His grin widened. “You read my mind baby.”

Max

You stood back, bundled in your warmest coat and scarf, watching Max work with the hand saw on the pine tree trunk. His jaw was clenched in determination, blond hair messy under his beanie, and his broad shoulders moving rhythmically with each pull of the saw. The man was efficient—grunting softly every now and then, his strength on full display.

“Almost there,” he muttered, glancing at you for just a second, flashing a confident smirk.

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip and crossing your arms. You weren’t even cold anymore, not with the way he looked like some kind of outdoorsy calendar model.

When the tree fell with a soft thud, Max stood up and leaned against the trunk, wiping sweat off his brow. “What do you think?” he asked, breathing hard.

What you thought was that he looked so damn good doing that, you wanted to drag him into the cabin and forget about the tree altogether. “Yeah… looks great,” you murmured, trying to keep your cool.

Max narrowed his eyes knowingly. “You’re staring, schatje.”

“Maybe I like what I see,” you shot back, smirking.

“Careful,” he teased, stepping closer with that cocky swagger of his. “We might not even get the tree inside if you keep looking at me like that.”

Lando

Lando wasn’t exactly the most experienced with an axe, but he was determined to prove himself. He stood in front of the tree, beanie crooked on his head, and his tongue sticking out slightly as he swung the axe.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” you asked, hiding your amusement.

“I’ve got this!” he said confidently, though the axe got stuck in the trunk on his next swing.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him, his cheeks red from the cold and his hair peeking out from under his beanie. “Mhm, mhmm,” you murmured, mostly to yourself. He might’ve been struggling, but damn if he didn’t look good doing it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lando asked, catching the tone in your voice.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though your grin gave you away.

Lando narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Not at all,” you replied, stepping closer and brushing some snow off his shoulder. “In fact, I think you look pretty hot right now.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh. Well. Thanks.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Now hurry up before I get too distracted to wait for you to finish.”

Oscar

Oscar insisted he could handle chopping the tree himself, even though you’d offered to take turns. His cheeks were already pink from the cold, the soft rise and fall of his breath visible in the winter air as he focused on the task. His grip on the saw was firm, and his jaw tightened in determination with each pull.

You stood nearby, bundled up in your jacket, unable to stop staring. He wasn’t showy or dramatic like some of the others might be—Oscar’s charm was in how quietly capable he was, how his calm confidence made it impossible to look away.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you murmured under your breath, leaning against a nearby stump as your eyes trailed over the way his arms flexed with each movement.

He paused mid-saw, glancing up at you with a raised brow. “What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, biting your lip to hide your smirk.

Oscar tilted his head, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You’re staring at me, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” you teased, crossing your arms as you walked closer. “My boyfriend looks very attractive chopping down a Christmas tree. What am I supposed to do, not look?”

His cheeks flushed, and it wasn’t just from the cold this time. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, though his smile betrayed him.

“You love it,” you shot back, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Finish up so I can drag you inside and show you just how much I appreciate your hard work.”

Sebastian

Sebastian looked like something out of a winter magazine as he worked, his green jacket snug against his frame and his woolen hat perched perfectly on his head. He made chopping down the tree look effortless, his movements efficient and controlled as though he’d been doing this his whole life.

You stood off to the side, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to suppress the utterly indecent thoughts running through your mind. Watching him chop wood should not have been this attractive. And yet.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you hummed softly, tilting your head to admire the way his muscles shifted beneath his jacket with each swing of the axe.

Seb turned, catching your gaze, and a knowing smile spread across his face. “What’s that sound for?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, though the way you bit your lip gave you away.

“Nothing, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, resting the axe on his shoulder as he walked over to you. “You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes.”

“Can you blame me?” you asked, shamelessly letting your eyes sweep over him. “You look so good doing this, I’m starting to forget why we even need the tree.”

Seb chuckled, his gloved hand reaching out to tug you closer by the waist. “If we don’t decorate the tree, it won’t feel like Christmas,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Decorating can wait,” you murmured, tugging lightly on his scarf. “I have other priorities right now.”

Jenson

Jenson looked like he belonged in a holiday commercial as he worked, his scarf casually thrown over one shoulder and his jacket unzipped just enough to hint at the sweater underneath. He was taking his time, not rushing, his movements deliberate and precise as he wielded the axe with ease.

You stood nearby, watching him with an almost embarrassing amount of focus. His silver hair caught the sunlight, and the way his body moved with such confidence and control was doing things to you. Things you probably shouldn’t admit aloud.

“Mhm, mhmm,” you hummed appreciatively, your eyes shamelessly glued to him.

Jenson straightened, brushing snow off his hands as he turned to you with a smirk. “What’s with that look on your face?”

“What look?” you asked, feigning innocence even as your cheeks warmed.

“The one that says you’re not thinking about Christmas anymore,” he teased, resting the axe against the tree as he walked over to you.

You shrugged, tilting your head as you gave him a once-over. “Can you blame me? My boyfriend looks like he walked straight off the set of a Hallmark movie. How am I supposed to focus on the tree?”

He chuckled, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “So, what you’re saying is, I’ve distracted you?”

“Completely,” you admitted, running your hands up his chest.

Jenson leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about ways to distract you since we got here.”

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽! ❥☽ @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon-blog @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @flowerpetalk @paucubarsisimp @its-elias-world @magixpracticality @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 5

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language, overthinking, light tension, kelce being kelce

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ starting the day with the struggle to focus after texting rafe the night before, he unexpectedly asks you to sit with him in the back row of economics class. having forgotten his pizza date with his friends, he invites you to join them to work on your project at kelce’s instead of staying in school. despite your hesitation, you agree. feeling out of place as you sit in his car on the way to kelce’s, rafe makes a seemingly casual attempt to ease your nerves along the way.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 4.5k+

✿ A / N ✿ thank you guys sm for the kind words and support on the last one, this always means sm to me <3 i also had sm fun with this one and felt like it’s time for the first little drama highigi. also next part will include a little rafe pov 😈 anyway, hope you enjoy <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // T U E S D A Y

"Yo, what took you so long? Did you two have a quickie in the car or something?" That was the first thing Kelce Statter said as he opened the front door, glancing between you and Rafe with an amused grin, his pupils just a little too wide.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

And here we go.

Like clockwork, heat shot straight to your cheeks, and as usual, whenever you were overwhelmed and didn’t know how to react, that tense, awkward smile appeared on your face.

Not even a minute here, and one dumb comment had already thrown you off balance. This was off to a fantastic start.

Rafe let out an annoyed snort. "Kelce, shut the fuck up."

"Whoa, dude, no need to get your claws out." Kelce raised his hands in mock innocence, tilting his head with a smug smirk. His gaze landed on you—your awkward smile and deep red face more specifically—before flicking back to Rafe. "Aww, you got her all shy and flustered. You must’ve been good."

Okay, that’s it. THIS was officially the most awkward moment of your life, and the worst part? You were too stunned to speak.

Rafe ran a hand down his face, clearly over Kelce’s shit, before shooting him a sharp glare. "Jesus Christ, dude, do me a favor and, just once in your fucking life, pull your head out of your ugly ass."

Wow. What subtlety. You honestly couldn’t tell if Rafe liked or despised him. Probably something in between both.

Before Kelce—still stupidly grinning—could fire back, Rafe stepped into the doorway and shoved him (softly?) aside. "Now move, before I deck you."

"Love you too, bro," Kelce said, throwing a wink in your direction, before disappearing down the hallway.

Well, what an interesting dynamic.

Rafe turned back to you with an exasperated sigh. "I swear I’m gonna kill that idiot one day."

Now would be a good time to SAY SOMETHING.

A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you smiled awkwardly, blurting out dryly, "He seems… nice."

NICE? Of all the words you could’ve chosen, 'nice' had to be at the very bottom of the list to describe Kelce Statter.

Rafe let out a short, amused breath. "Sure, he’s a sweetheart." He motioned toward the inside of the house with a nod. "C’mon, or we’ll end up with nothing but crust. His appetite’s as big as his mouth."

So you followed him inside like a stupid little duckling.

In the living room, a massive flat tree-stump-and-glass coffee table was already “set”—if you could even call it that. A big, colorful pizza sat on a wooden board in the center, surrounded by a chaotic mess of four plates, a few glasses, cigarette packs, a lighter, car keys, a can of deodorant, an almost empty roll of paper towels, as well as a bag of weed and a used grinder.

In your mind, you titled this condition Kelce Statter core.

A forest-green semicircle couch wrapped around half the table, facing a gigantic flat-screen TV. Family Guy was playing on the screen, the volume low but audible.

Kelce was perched at one end of the couch, hunched forward as he shoved a slice of pepperoni pizza into his mouth. Topper sat somewhere in the middle, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw the two of you—or more specifically, Rafe.

With a casual “Yo, bro,” Topper got up and dapped Rafe up. He shot you a neutral smile, his voice carrying a friendly vibe. “We’re all apologizing in advance for Kelce’s shitty jokes.”

Now that was what you’d call nice.

From the background came a muffled, “Hey!”

A genuine smile tugged at your lips but before you could respond, Rafe made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Okay, okay, let’s just eat. The idiot’s already inhaled half the pizza.”

Topper sat back down next to Kelce while you settled on Rafe’s right—at a comfortably safe distance—at the opposite end of the couch. Still, your heart and mind refused to slow down.

But as your stomach filled, a bit of the tension in your body started to ease. Surprisingly, the pizza tasted amazing—like, really really good.

Was Kelce secretly some kind of passionate hobby chef? Probably. Would make sense, considering he was on his healthy gym grind like Rafe had told you.

As the minutes passed, the guys were deep in their own conversation—which you were thankful for because eating, talking, and not embarrassing yourself was an art you had yet to master.

Kelce was raving about some new protein/creatine/whatever powder he swore by, Topper was hyping up an upcoming surf competition he was planning to enter, and Rafe had some big news about a deal his dad had recently landed.

The only thing remotely interesting to you as a surfer was the tournament Topper had mentioned. The rest you tuned out, peacefully eating your pizza, taking an occasional sip of your Coke, and half-watching some weird Brian-and-Stewie subplot on TV.

This actually almost felt like hanging out with friends.

At some point, Topper mentioned your name, and you snapped out of your little bubble, turning away from the screen in surprise.

Shit, what did he say?

You swallowed the bite of pizza in your mouth and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, what?”

Kelce jumped in before Topper could repeat himself, seemingly taking your disinterest in the conversation as a win. “Oh shit, you’re into Family Guy?”

Your thumb nervously traced a spot on the edge of your plate. “Yeah, I mean, it's a good show to watch on the side.”

“And South Park, Rick and Morty?”

You felt all three of them staring at you. “They’re good, I guess. I mean, South Park isn’t really my thing but—”

Kelce gasped like you’d just insulted his entire family. “Not your thing?! That’s—”

“Jesus, bro, let her at least finish,” Topper interrupted with a roll of his eyes because well Kelce had just interrupted him.

Rafe nodded in agreement, waving his hand toward the kitchen. “Seriously, go grab more paper towels or some shit.”

Kelce shook his head, clearly unimpressed, but stood up anyway, plate in hand. “Wow, you guys are actual mean girls.”

You smiled because the other two did, but somehow, you still felt a little bad for Kelce. Sure, he was annoying, loud, and way too blunt, but getting shut down by your friends every two minutes had to sting, right?

Wow. Am I seriously feeling sorry for Kelce Statter?

Topper shook his head as Kelce disappeared into the kitchen. “Sometimes I wonder how he manages to pull any girl at all.”

Rafe shrugged, wiping his hands on the last paper towel. “Maybe they’re just hoping his dick’s as big as his mouth.”

That got a laugh out of Topper—one that, in your opinion, was a little too enthusiastic. “Yeah, probably.”

Okayyy. If you were Rafe Cameron Stan No. 1, then Topper was definitely No. 2.

Rafe seemed to notice your lack of reaction, turning to you with a crooked smile, like he couldn’t quite comprehend why you didn’t find this hilarious. “What? Would you go for a guy like that?”

WHAT KIND OF QUESTION WAS THAT? Better yet, how were you supposed to answer?!

On one hand, you’d never in a million years go for Kelce Statter. On the other, it felt wrong to sit in his house and join in on roasting him.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you gave an awkward smile. “No, I mean… I barely know him.”

God, what a stupid answer.

“That wasn’t a real no,” Topper remarked with a smirk, and you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.

Rafe’s brows twitched just slightly but before he could throw another dumb question your way, you tried to salvage it. “I mean, I just… I wouldn’t want to judge someone based on their looks or, uh, any shallow first impressions.”

Great. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

Rafe and Topper stared at you like you’d just announced that you believed in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

OH GOD, they probably thought you liked Kelce now. Worse, RAFE probably did.

AHHH, HELP.

“Okay, you better not tell him that,” Topper said, amused. “His giant ego will rub it in your face forever. Or worse, he’ll actually think he has a shot with you.”

...

You weren’t sure what was worse—how aware you were of your burning cheeks, Rafe’s unreadable look that could mean anything from irritation to amusement to indifference, or the fact that Topper had basically just said you were too good for Kelce. Which was probably supposed to be a compliment, but the way he’d said it with that weird teasing undertone … yeah, no thanks.

Rafe leaned forward with a defiant-yet-amused snort, cutting off your view of Topper, and gathered the last three plates. “Shit, that’s enough talk about Kelce,” he said, shoving the stack of plates into Topper’s hands.

For a moment, Topper just stared at him, then he stood up, casting a brief glance at you before looking back at Rafe. “Sure, yeah, guess we’ll head out to the porch then. Have fun with your… art project work session or whatever.”

And with that, he disappeared in the same direction as Kelce.

Now it was just you and Rafe again. But for some reason, alongside your nervousness, there was this inexplicable tension lingering in the air from the conversation earlier.

This whole thing was SO FUCKING WEIRD anyway.

Yesterday morning, Kelce, Topper, and Rafe had been… well, strangers to you. And now? Now you were sitting in Kelce Statter’s living room, having had lunch with the three of them, and now you were spending your FREE TIME—like, not during class, not during lunch, but your actual free time—working on a school project with Rafe.

This whole cozy setup, this couch, the TV running in the background, the whole environment—it all felt so… intimate. Even though it absolutely wasn’t.

And then all those comments, those questions… This was so far out of your comfort zone, and you had no idea how to deal with such a sudden shift.

And, honestly? You were still stuck on why Rafe had even invited you here in the first place. Yeah, sure, to work on a school project. But at his friend’s house? When you could’ve just done it during lunch. It didn’t make any sense.

And the dangerous part? Somewhere deep down, there was this tiny part of you that thought maybe, just maybe, Rafe wasn’t just after a good grade.

The fact that Rafe didn’t shift over, even though the couch was now completely clear (sure, there was still a decent gap between you two, but still...), didn’t go unnoticed. Quite the opposite, he spread out his legs slightly more, adjusting his position.

You had to seriously focus to avoid accidentally looking at... certain areas.

GIRL PLS.

“Don't tell me you're still nervous after having experienced these idiots firsthand” he said, his tone playful but noticeably more detached than usual.

Could I get one moment—just ONE—in which my face isn’t on fire? PLEASE.

You forced a clumsy smile. “I wasn’t nervous... just curious.”

Oh, yeah. He’s totally going to believe that.

Rafe raised an unimpressed brow, his smirk making it clear he didn’t buy it. “Yeah, anxious curious.” He sank deeper into the couch, putting one leg on the edge of the table, and looked up at you with his pretty blue eyes. “So, you have a thing for Kelce, huh? Is that why you acted so weird when I asked you to come along?” His voice was teasing, almost challenging, but there was something distant in it too, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?? Like, LITERALLY WHAT?? What kind of question was that?

You honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking or being serious. His expression gave absolutely nothing away. Also didn’t he just say to Topper to put the Kelce topic aside?

You shook your head, brows furrowing in irritation (and let’s be real, you probably looked like a sulky tomato while doing so). “What? No! I mean… what? Where is that even coming from?”

Rafe shrugged, his tone maddeningly casual. “He wouldn’t say no, just saying. Kelce would take any gi—”

“But I would!” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “Saying ‘no’, I mean.” You froze for a second, your brows furrowing further as if you’d just misheard yourself. “Wait, what were you gonna say?”

There it was again. That shift in his mood. Barely noticeable but it was there—the way his brows raised just slightly, his eyes focusing on you like he was daring you in some strange way.

“What?” he asked, clearly testing to see if you’d let it slide or push further.

And, of fucking course, you’d push further. Crush or not, no way would you let that audacity slide.

You tilted your head, and honestly, maybe it was the stress of the day catching up to you, but the way he looked so smug, so goddamn full of himself, pissed you off. "You were trying to say that Kelce would go for any girl anyway." You furrowed your brows. "What… how am I supposed to interpret that?"

You couldn’t help but remember the comment he’d made earlier at school—Kelce always brings some random chick to our hangouts.

So, was that how he saw you? Some random, disposable girl for his friend? Was that the point of this? To hook you up with Kelce?

You had no idea why but before this, thinking of hookups in general had been mildly amusing to you. But now that it was somehow in the air, it just pissed you off.

Something flickered in Rafe’s eyes, but he shook his head, his mouth tugging down in mock innocence. “Don’t know.” And then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added, “You didn’t say ‘no’ earlier. You know, all that talk about 'not judging people by surface-level impressions' or whatever.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “What the fuck, I never—... I'm not interested in--” You stopped yourself mid-sentence when you noticed how observant he was eyeing you.

Either he was messing with you—trying to get a reaction out of you by asking these upfront questions—or he was actually being serious.

“This feels like gaslighting", you said dryly, though you couldn’t stop the somehow amused smile from creeping onto your face.

A crooked grin spread across Rafe’s features and the crease between his brows disappeared. “I'm just repeating what you’ve said.”

Seriously, what did he want you to say? “Yes, I like Kelce”??? Did he actually believe your words earlier had hinted at some interest in Kelce? Just the thought of it made your skin crawl.

Your expression shifted back to a frown. Hesitantly you asked, “Is this like... a bro-playing-matchmaker-for-bro thing?”

Did he want you to start something with Kelce? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions—this whole thing with Topper earlier, too. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Kelce secretly had a thing for you and they were both playing his wingmen in a very strange way.

OH. MY. GOD.

That would explain why Rafe had invited you here in the first place. But then again, why were you—just the two of you—about to work on the project?

Even your confusion was confused at this point.

“Shit, no,” Rafe shot back with an amused smirk, crossing his arms. “Like I’d play wingman for Kelce.” He shrugged, his grin lingering. “But you do seem like someone who needs help in this area.”

…

WHAT.

Did he think you were some kind of helpless maiden who needed assistance at courting the other sex? Well, it wasn’t that far from the truth, be for real, but that wasn’t the point. Why would he even say something like this? Was he suggesting to be your wingman or some shit?

God, this was such a painfully awkward situation and he seemed to have fun cornering you like this.

Screw it. You were done with whatever this was.

You nodded slowly, your cheeks still flushed deep pink. “I don’t, thanks. And I feel like we shouldn’t waste any more time and get back to the project.”

Something strange flashed across his face—a mix of disappointment and irritation as if he had enjoyed this back and forth—but he just shrugged. “Back at being a nerd.”

Wow. Okay. Seriously, what the actual fuck was going on inside Rafe Cameron’s head?

Trying to suppress a frown, you leaned toward the side of the couch and pulled your iPad from your bag, tucking your legs up into a comfortable position as you opened yesterday’s notes.

The air felt heavy with a strange tension. Not like yesterday, when you’d had your first real conversation with him. Not like earlier either, when he was pissed off at you mentioning his dad in a conversation. No, this was something else entirely—some kind of irritated restlessness on both sides.

Your heart pounded uneasily in your chest, and you hated that you couldn’t just address whatever this was. If it even was anything.

So, you did what you always did when things started feeling like too much—you disconnected from the situation entirely and focused on the task at hand. Skimming over your notes, you cleared your throat and read out your last update. “Okay, so…”

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You washed your hands, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

What am I even doing here?

This was so stupid. You should’ve insisted on rescheduling this whole thing—it would’ve been so much easier.

Grabbing the towel from the rack, you dried your hands and took a deep breath. Screw whatever all of this was—why he’d invited you here, why he’d asked all those weird-ass questions. You just needed to focus on the project.

Art was the only subject you were actually kind of good at and there was no way you were going to mess it up just because your brain was spiraling over this surreal, out-of-nowhere situation.

But as you walked back down the hallway toward the living room, you were hit with another curveball.

Is this guy SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!

There he was, sitting on the couch, your iPad resting on his lap, your Apple Pencil in his hand as his eyes stared at the screen.

Never mind that he looked CUTE AS HELL doing it—he couldn’t just scroll through your sketches like that. THAT WAS AN UNSPOKEN RULE. What if he found your studies of—NOPE.

“What are you doing?”

Rafe looked up, completely unbothered. Before he could even answer, you were already sitting down next to him, hand reaching for your iPad.

And then you saw it.

He wasn’t flipping through your gallery—he was just writing something in the Notes app.

Your face instantly flushed hot. “Oh,” you mumbled, pulling your hand back quickly—only to accidentally brush against the fabric of his jeans.

AKA HIS THIGH.

It was over. Your life was over. Done. Finished. The end. You were officially dead in every language known to man.

The heat in your face burned hotter as your pulse skyrocketed, embarrassment filling every cell in your body.

And his face? Big blue eyes staring at you half-surprised while his lips slowly turned into a crooked smile.

UGHHHH, OH MY GOD.

A sheepish-awkward smile crept across your lips. “Oh, I—oh my God, I’m so sorry, I… I thought you were scrolling through my gallery.”

Brilliant. Truly a top-tier diversion. AS ALWAYS.

Please, please, please, for the love of everything holy, don’t mention the fact that I just touched your leg. PLEASE.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, more amused than irritated. “Why, what would I find? Nudes?”

I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.

“What? No! I don’t—gallery, I meant my art gallery!” you shot back quickly, your voice a pitch higher than usual as the heat rushed back into your face.

And then, as your gaze flicked to the striking details of his annoyingly pretty eyes, it hit you just how close you were to him.

Too fucking close.

Your overly dramatic attempt to snatch the iPad from him had somehow left your whole body turned toward his, with barely four inches separating you.

Every instinct screamed at you to throw yourself onto the other end of the couch, grab your bag, and leave this house as fast as humanly possible. Move toward another state and start a new life.

But you couldn’t move. It was like you were frozen, completely anchored in place. Because choosing to put space between you now? That would just highlight how ridiculously awkward this whole situation had become.

You felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, unable to move.

And Rafe’s eyes? They were the headlights. He stared at you, his expression teetering somewhere between playful curiosity and deliberation, like he was trying to decide whether to swerve or just run you over.

“Jesus Christ, calm down,” he finally said, a cocky laugh slipping past his lips as he clicked the Apple Pencil back into the iPad case. “I didn’t look at your top-secret drawing gallery. Happy?”

And even if he had looked, would he even admit it? Probably not.

Still, a tiny part of you relaxed. Perfect—now only 99% of you were stuck in full fight-or-flight mode.

“Thanks,” you managed to mumble, taking the iPad from him with painstaking care to avoid even accidentally brushing against him again. That would definitely be the end of you.

Finally seizing the opportunity, you scooted a little further away—not as far as before but just enough to calm your heart rate without making it seem like you were actively trying to escape.

The last thing you wanted was to look like a total creep.

Even though the situation had been painfully awkward, somehow, it had managed to break that weird, unspoken tension that had been hanging between you two entirely.

You had just looked up, ready to comment on the one (1) completely useless bullet point he’d added when he beat you to it. "We should go to my place tomorrow evening. Maybe you’ll relax a little for once”, he said with a teasing yet somehow serious undertone.

...

...

WAIT. WHAT? THIS WAS COMING OUT OF NOWHERE LIKE WHAT?!

You must’ve misheard him. No way. This was too crazy, too fucking surreal to be real. Surely he was messing with you. Yeah, that had to be it.

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Your place?" Good. That was good. This way, you could at least make sure he wasn’t being serious.

Rafe scoffed, amused. "Yeah, unless you’d rather go back to working at school like a real nerd."

HE WAS SERIOUS.

Okay, hold on. But WHY AT EVENING? Evenings were basically the second most intimate time of day, right after actual nighttime. And his whole family would be home—no, absolutely not. That was insane. Way too much, too soon.

There was no way you’d 'relax' there.

You let out a nervous laugh, avoiding his gaze. "I don’t know… your parents—" You hesitated, remembering Rose wasn’t actually his mom. "I mean, your family probably wants their space."

Oh god. You could already feel the shift in his mood—subtle, but definitely there.

But Rafe just shook his head, completely unfazed. "My dad and Rose are at some charity event. Wheezie’s on a school trip this week, and Sarah can do whatever she wants, I don't care."

OH.

That—that changed everything. Shit, no, that changed THE ENTIRE FUCKING SITUATION YOU WERE IN.

An empty house, almost nighttime, and he wanted you to come over just after two days of getting to know each other? Holy shit, every alarm bell in your head was ringing.

Sure, you were inexperienced when it came to dating (NOT that this situation was anything close to being labeled as dating). And yes, you had no clue how to flirt. Plus, the entire concept of the male species lowkey terrified you and you were terrible at picking up hints.

But even you knew what this meant.

You’d heard enough of Cara’s stories, read enough shitty fanfiction, watched enough trashy movies and TV shows, and—unintentionally—overheard enough (deeply uncomfortable) conversations between drunk, horny teenagers at parties to recognize exactly what was happening here:

Rafe Cameron was setting the ground for a hookup.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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[kazekagevi]

Bonds Beyond Words: If Eywa Wills It

PART ONE PART TWO

Pairing: Aged-Up!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k 

Tags: dark themes, indirect mention of r*pe, suicide attempt, eventual NSFW, aged-up! Neteyam, reader has PTSD, Neteyam dislikes humans (except for you), eventual jealous/possessive Neteyam, future Olo'eyktan! Neteyam, interspecies slow burn, angst, fluff, probably OOC, POV’s all over the place, forgive the inconsistencies. 

Summary: You, a competent researcher and writer, awoke from cryosleep a year ago, only to be imprisoned by the RDA—they intended to force you and many other women into a selective breeding program to kickstart human repopulation. However, you, the other prisoners, and allied wardens formed an escape plan; it was carried out, but you are the lone survivor. 

A/N and Disclaimer: This is my first x reader fic! This is also my first fic on Tumblr in years! I've been reading a lot of ATWOW fics and thought I would write my own. I am also challenging myself to write in present tense (I'm a past tense girly), so please forgive any grammatical errors. Hope you enjoy <3

This story contains explicit content and is only appropriate for audiences 18+. MDNI. Please do not repost my work. 

The tracking device beneath your skin feels like a ticking time bomb—although you’re certain it doesn’t have the power to detonate, should the RDA find your location before the prison sector’s power unit comes back online, it could still bring mass destruction to this region of the extrasolar moon. As if the RDA hasn't done enough of that already. 

As you walk barefoot through the unfamiliar forest of Pandora, you wonder if this is heaven. Surely, you must have died along the way—you survived the initial jailbreak, then the evasion at dawn, and managed to remain mostly unscathed from the chopper accident. On Earth, you’d feel compelled to buy a lottery ticket. The thought alone makes you chuckle, and your mask fogs in response. Your laughs, albeit quiet, turn maniacal. Maybe you hit your head hastily fleeing the first bunker, or got thwacked by metal shrapnel in the crash. 

If you live, the escape will count as a partial success. Living would make you a hero; but as darkness falls on this foreign planet, you silently wish you had become a martyr like the others instead. 

You’re completely defenseless. You have nothing more than your respirator mask that won’t stop fogging due to your panicked breaths, and the clothes on your back. You adorn an oversized jacket that you stole from the valiantly deceased helo pilot, and your prison uniform—it’s nothing more than a flimsy, green hospital gown. 

You should know more about this place. You were chosen among an elite class of writers to research alien life on Pandora. You loved traveling and writing about new cultures—studying language, customs, and history. It was your pride and joy, your life’s work. Yet, the nightmare started the day you woke from cryosleep and you were forced into a tiny cell with three other women. In your year of imprisonment, two of them had already been selected into the breeding program, while you and the other, Claudia, were awaiting that same fate. 

You almost slip on a patch of sludge and break your fall by grabbing a tree stump. 

You do know, however, that this hostile environment will kill you if you don’t find the tribe you’re searching for. Certainly, your luck will run out soon. 

So, you stop laughing, blink away the tears in your eyes, and regain your focus. You’d slap your own cheeks if you could, but your mask renders the act impossible. You have to survive, or else the girls’ and allied wardens’ deaths will be meaningless. 

As you continue on your path, the mud starts to dampen, coating the soles of your feet. You presume this is from a recent rainstorm, or perhaps you’re nearing a water source. You swallow hard—inevitably, you’re thirsty. But if breathing Pandora’s air will kill you, the water will likely do the same.

As you carefully wade through the soppy terrain, you repeat the same phrases under your breath like a prayer or mantra. Even if you suffered amnesia and lost all your memories like a slate wiped clean, you could suffice to lose it all, except a few words which you memorized in Na’vi. 

Using these phrases would determine if you lived or died, assuming you weren’t slain with an arrow on sight: after introducing yourself in the language, you must tell them you seek asylum with the Omatikaya clan at High Camp and Max knows you’re coming. Lastly, you needed to say there is a tracking device under my skin, please cut it out. 

You recite these phrases again, except this time you mess up the grammatical structure on the last part. You winge, correct yourself, and continue on your course.

The planet begins to dim as time passes. As you avoid tripping over tree roots and crushing delicate flowers, you notice Pandora’s subtle glow. The bioluminescent spots that dot the terrain look like freckles on skin. It’s the first time you’re seeing the real thing up close, instead of in a tiny photograph. You’re as enamored as you are terrified. 

Your feet hurt and your shins ache when night fully settles. You’ve been traveling by foot for hours. Imprisonment and preparation for forced motherhood meant there was little opportunity for exercise in the compound. Your body isn’t used to lifting heavy things or globetrotting long distances. 

As you use the last of your energy reserves to think—to consider stopping in a safe area for a break—a tremendous force stops you first. 

This is it, you think. You know you're going to die. 

The force is a Na’vi, whom you cannot see. From their position behind you, an arm wraps around your abdomen, lifting your smaller body off the ground like a doll. The Na’vi lodges their elbow into your stomach, knocking the wind out of you, all so they can wrap their large blue hand around your small, human neck. Despite the panic, you notice how controlled the Na’vi’s grip is—just enough to hold you still without choking you. It feels like a strange paralysis. Your oxygen mask fogs as you pant in distress. 

“Why I should not kill you?” The Na’vi asks in broken English. The timbre of the voice leads you to believe this one is male. 

Say the thing! your mind reels. You resist the urge to flail your limbs. The slightest movements make the Na’vi tighten his grip—at this very moment, you notice his other hand holds a dagger to your throat. The space between your skin and the blade is miniscule, as is your proximity to certain death. 

So you do it, you say the thing. Except, it comes out all wrong:

“My… My name is Asylum at High Camp,” you stammer in Pandora’s native language. 

The Na’vi makes a sound of confusion. You won’t know until later, but Neteyam thinks your pronunciation is mechanical, unpleasant, and downright horrible. 

Your chest heaves wildly and your heart thrums in your chest like a drum. The realization hits like a truck. “Wait… No, that’s not right,” you say in English. Your jagged breaths aren’t allowing oxygen to circulate in the mask properly—the same goes for your brain. 

The Na’vi growls against your ear. You’re running out of time. You gather the last of your composure. 

You tell him your name, properly this time, then continue with your monologue. “I-I seek asylum at High Camp, Max knows I’m coming,” you sputter like a dying engine. 

The Na’vi makes another sound of confusion, yet still seems dissatisfied. He gently presses the tip of the knife to your throat. 

“No! Please!” you beg. Your hands instinctively wrap around his glowing-freckled forearm, but you don’t tug. 

The Na’vi freezes. You can’t see it, but something is happening. 

Neteyam’s hairless brows furrow when a woodsprite lands on the edge of the blade he inherited from his maternal grandfather. The woodsprite lingers there, teetering on the edge. Then, it slots itself into the small space between your skin and his knife. You can’t help but cringe at the slight tickle of its tendrils against your collarbone. 

“Eywa,” Neteyam whispers to himself. His voice is so quiet that you cannot hear. 

The woodsprite travels over your clavicle and settles against the skin just below it. The woodsprite glows with vibrance. The light winks at Neteyam. He knows it's a sign. The tip of his knife drags gently against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. The woodsprite flutters away once his knife is over the spot where the tracker sits beneath the surface. His lips part—the area feels hard when he knows it shouldn’t be. 

Your eyes widen. You remember your lines, like an amateur actor taking the stage for the first time. 

“There’s a tracker!” you shout in English. Your shrill voice catches even Neteyam—the future Olo'eyktan—off guard. 

“A tracker?” Neteyam retorts, his voice laced with aggression and uncertainty. He doesn’t recognize that word, but your tone implies grave danger. 

You nod. “There is a tracking device under my skin,” you say in the Na’vi’s native tongue. “Please, cut it out!”

Fright flashes upon Neteyam’s face. Mentally, he’s reeling—were you sent here as bait from the sky demons? Is he falling into another one of their traps? Images of the tracker the Sky People lodged into the tulkun’s fin on the reefs of Awa'atlu flood his mind. His heart feels heavy when he thinks of Ro'a and her cub. 

Physically, however, Neteyam does as he’s told. He would never willingly take orders from Sky People, but he knows in this instance, it’s the only way to protect himself, his family, and his clan. He must abide by these orders for the greater good. 

Neteyam moves swiftly as he pins you against the nearest tree. He holds you there by your neck. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, then he zeros in on the neckline of your hospital gown. He uses his thumb to feel for the tracking device, raises his knife, and cuts. 

Pupils blown wide, you study his face in the moment of reprieve before he slashes at your skin. His eyes are bright yellow, like tiny suns or egg yolks. His lips are full, and as he grimaces, he reveals a shiny set of white teeth. His ears point backwards: he’s agitated. His tail swishes from side to side. He wears his hair in braids. Around his neck, he adorns an ornamental choker necklace. 

You howl through your teeth. Your jaw is clenched. The pain is unbearable, but at the same time, it’s the best kind you’ve ever felt. Even if this Na’vi should kill you right after, at least in your last moments, you’ll feel free. 

Blood pools around his knife as he cuts through the first layer of skin. He tries to ignore your cries as he presses his long fingertips into the open wound. He pulls when he feels a small piece of plastic; with a bit of effort, he dislodges it from your body. 

You sigh in relief when the Na’vi removes it, but the pain lingers—it worsens when you press your fingertips against the wound to stop the bleeding. Your eyelids are heavy. You feel lightheaded. 

The Na’vi removes his grip from your neck, only so he can destroy the tracker. Neteyam notes that trackers he’s encountered in the past tend to beep, light up, or some combination of both—this one has neither of those attributes. The uncomfortable knots in Neteyam’s stomach begin to untie, but he cannot give up his resolve. His work is unfinished. 

He presses the tracker against the tree bark, grunts, and he hacks away with his weapon.

Even as you’re bleeding—potentially to death—you continue to study the Na’vi’s physique and stature. This one in particular is muscular and athletic, and presumably taller than average. The way his muscles move under his blue skin is enchanting, and the way his freckles glow, you might as well be looking up at the night sky. You’re certain this will be your last chance to witness life on Pandora, or life at all—might as well bask in it. 

The tracker is chopped and diced into small pieces, like how you used to cut vegetables back on Earth. The Na’vi looks pleased with his work. Then, his hairless brows furrow again, he spits into his hand, and throws the pieces as far as he can into the Pandoran wilderness. He hisses. You think it’s some kind of power move, but you’re not quite sure, and you definitely don’t have the gall to ask. 

Neteyam stands still for a moment, bloodied hands on his hips. He has yet to face the elephant in the room—or in this circumstance, the tawtute against the tree. 

That blood is only yours. Your eyes roll into the back of your head; you see stars upon realizing just how much you’ve lost. 

---

You wake to the sounds of beeps and whirrs.

All is quiet. You’re in a small room with white walls. The lights are dimmed. Your breaths are slow and relaxed—but as the cogs start to turn, you begin to question if you’re safe or not. 

Pain shoots through your shoulder like a strike of lightning as you sit up in the cot you’ve been sleeping in. You wince loudly, and the noise echoes. 

Your mind briefly recalls the events of the last twenty-four hours, leading up to the encounter with the Na’vi. Evidently, it wasn’t a dream or figment of your highly active imagination. 

Your clavicle has been wrapped in a thick bandage. When you pull back the thin blanket that covers the rest of you, you realize the dirt and grime that covered your feet and legs has been washed away. 

You sigh in relief. You think you’re safe, until you discover that your old hospital gown has been replaced with a brand new albeit identical one—one with the Resource Development Administration’s logo on the tag. 

Your heart feels heavy. 

The escape was unsuccessful. The mission failed.

It makes sense now, as your vision swims through the confined space. This must be it—this must be where they took Seraphina, and Leah, and Clover. This must be where the girls who get picked go. Where they are prepared. Where they are taken. 

You sit there for a few moments, then begin to hyperventilate. The Na’vi male must have left you there to die, and the RDA must have tracked you down anyway. Given that they lost all of their prisoners in the jailbreak, it made sense. They would do anything to get you back. 

You shatter like glass.

Tears prick your bloodshot eyes like thorns. You pluck each wire from your arm like guitar strings, separating yourself from any machines. They continue to beep, but at a different pace, like a sounding alarm. 

You search the room for an escape. You spot a pitcher and sponge on the counter adjacent to the bed. 

In the laboratory across from the infirmary room, Max looks up from his microscope when he hears a loud crash. He jumps up from his swivel chair and dashes across the hall, opening the infirmary door. 

Max has no choice but to undertake—you have a large shard of glass in your hand, and you use all the force in your tired body to resist. He grimaces as you continue to aim for a critical slice on your opposite wrist. His words fail to soothe. 

“Norm!” the unfamiliar man calls. “We’ve got a cutter!” 

Footsteps thump down the hall, then another man enters. “Holy shit,” he says. “What the hell is going on?!”

“I don’t know!” Max shouts back. 

Norm, in his human form, hops over the pile of broken glass, and crouches to meet your bleary, downcast eyes. “Hey… Hey! Stop! You’re safe here!”

You can’t stop the tears from coming. You shake your head and continue to thrash in Max’s arms. “To hell with you RDA fucks!” you spit at him. 

Norm’s eyes fall shut when a glob of saliva hits his left cheek. He counts to three before responding. “We’re not with them!” He grabs your wrists. “Calm down! You’re at High Camp!”

You freeze. You choke on a loud sob. “What?” you ask weakly. 

“I’m Norm,” the one crouching before you says. “That guy, behind you, he’s Max. We’re scientists allied with the Na’vi. This is the stronghold. You’re in our laboratory.” 

You sniffle. The room goes silent. “But this gown?” you croak, showing him the logo.

Norm sighs. “We loot supplies from RDA… That’s all.” 

“Take a deep breath,” says Max. You do as you're told, and your muscles relax. Max docks the glass shard from your hand and eases his grip. Norm nods in approval. “One more,” Max adds. Inhale. Exhale. “You’re alright now.” 

Inevitably, you start crying again. But this time, your tears are joyous. The tension breaks like ice—it’s melting. You’re awash in relief you thought would never come. It’s euphoric. It’s blissful. You’re free. 

A year of suffering and imprisonment is released in your loud sobs. Max catches you before you can fall to your knees on the remnants of the broken pitcher. Neither of them know what to say, so they say nothing. 

Norm, the one on the floor, wipes his cheek with the collar of his shirt. Then he reaches into one of the infirmary cabinets, procuring a dust pan and small sweeper. He does his best to clean the porcelain shards quickly and quietly. “Get her an Ativan,” he mumbles to Max on his way to the disposal bin. Max swallows his nerves. 

---

You’re moved into another room in the facility after your incident in the infirmary. When you come to, you feel slightly embarrassed. You didn’t even check to see if the door of that room was unlocked, which it was. 

“I’m sorry about your pitcher,” you tell Max as he returns from the linen closet with the blankets you asked for. 

Max chuckles. He wants to say he’s more than sorry about all that’s happened to you. He was aiding and abetting the lead warden—the one who came up with the masterplan. “Don’t worry about it. That pitcher meant nothing to me,” he assures. 

You crack a crooked, uneasy smile. The Ativan is starting to take its effect. Max smiles back.

You feel grateful. The scientists here have been nothing but kind and patient. 

You can’t help but also feel grateful to the Na’vi male who presumably saved your life. You don’t know where he is, how to find him, or if you’ll see him again, but you feel indebted. You want to ask Max how you can show your gratitude, but that will have to wait. 

“Thank you,” you say. “For everything.” 

Max nods with a crestfallen smile. “If you need anything else, I’ll be around in the lab all day. Norm will be spending some time as his Avatar, so he won’t be around until later,” he says. “You were out for two entire days, I’m sure you’re hungry. Feel free to have anything in the walk-in or pantry. We don’t always have meals together as a crew, but tonight we’ll have dinner together,” Max explains. 

You’re left alone once Max is sure you’re settled and calm, and won’t break the vase on the coffee table that he does care about. 

---

A/N: Feel free to leave any and all feedback on this chapter! Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciate. In part two, Norm and Max will discuss your arrival with our king, Jake Sully. <3

NEXT CHAPTER: PART TWO

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - July 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735! (Or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!)

1. Thai tiger numbers swell as prey populations stabilize in western forests

“The tiger population density in a series of protected areas in western Thailand has more than doubled over the past two decades, according to new survey data. […] The most recent year of surveys, which concluded in November 2023, photographed 94 individual tigers, up from 75 individuals in the previous year, and from fewer than 40 in 2007. […] A total of 291 individual tigers older than 1 year were recorded, as well as 67 cubs younger than 1 year.”

2. Work starts to rewild former cattle farm

“Ecologists have started work to turn a former livestock farm into a nature reserve [… which] will become a "mosaic of habitats" for insects, birds and mammals. [… R]ewilding farmland could benefit food security locally by encouraging pollinators, improving soil health and soaking up flood water. [… “N]ature restoration doesn't preclude food production. We want to address [food security] by using nature-based solutions."”

3. Harnessing ‘invisible forests in plain view’ to reforest the world

“[… T]he degraded land contained numerous such stumps with intact root systems capable of regenerating themselves, plus millions of tree seeds hidden in the soil, which farmers could simply encourage to grow and reforest the landscape[….] Today, the technique of letting trees resprout and protecting their growth from livestock and wildlife [… has] massive potential to help tackle biodiversity loss and food insecurity through resilient agroforestry systems. [… The UN’s] reported solution includes investing in land restoration, “nature-positive” food production, and rewilding, which could return between $7 and $30 for every dollar spent.”

4. California bars school districts from outing LGBTQ+ kids to their parents

“Gov. Gavin Newsom signed the SAFETY Act today – a bill that prohibits the forced outing of transgender and gay students, making California the first state to explicitly prohibit school districts from doing so. […] Matt Adams, a head of department at a West London state school, told PinkNews at the time: “Teachers and schools do not have all the information about every child’s home environment and instead of supporting a pupil to be themselves in school, we could be putting them at risk of harm.””

5. 85% of new electricity built in 2023 came from renewables

“Electricity supplied by renewables, like hydropower, solar, and wind, has increased gradually over the past few decades — but rapidly in recent years. [… C]lean energy now makes up around 43 percent of global electricity capacity. In terms of generation — the actual power produced by energy sources — renewables were responsible for 30 percent of electricity production last year. […] Along with the rise of renewable sources has come a slowdown in construction of non-renewable power plants as well as a move to decommission more fossil fuel facilities.”

6. Deadly cobra bites to "drastically reduce" as scientists discover new antivenom

“After successful human trials, the snake venom antidote could be rolled out relatively quickly to become a "cheap, safe and effective drug for treating cobra bites" and saving lives around the globe, say scientists. Scientists have found that a commonly used blood thinner known as heparin can be repurposed as an inexpensive antidote for cobra venom. […] Using CRISPR gene-editing technology […] they successfully repurposed heparin, proving that the common blood thinner can stop the necrosis caused by cobra bites.”

7. FruitFlow: a new citizen science initiative unlocks orchard secrets

“"FruitWatch" has significantly refined phenological models by integrating extensive citizen-sourced data, which spans a wider geographical area than traditional methods. These enhanced models offer growers precise, location-specific predictions, essential for optimizing agricultural planning and interventions. […] By improving the accuracy of phenological models, farmers can better align their operations with natural biological cycles, enhancing both yield and quality.”

8. July 4th Means Freedom for Humpback Whale Near Valdez, Alaska

“The NOAA Fisheries Alaska Marine Mammal Stranding Hotline received numerous reports late afternoon on July 3. A young humpback whale was entangled in the middle of the Port of Valdez[….] “The success of this mission was due to the support of the community, as they were the foundation of the effort,” said Moran. [… Members of the community] were able to fill the critical role of acting as first responders to a marine mammal emergency. “Calling in these reports is extremely valuable as it allows us to respond when safe and appropriate, and also helps us gain information on various threats affecting the animals,” said Lyman.”

9. Elephants Receive First of Its Kind Vaccine

“Elephant endotheliotropic herpesvirus is the leading cause of death for Asian elephants (Elephas maximus) born in facilities in North America and also causes calf deaths in the wild in Asia. A 40-year-old female received the new mRNA vaccine, which is expected to help the animal boost immunity[….]”

10. Conservation partners and Indigenous communities working together to restore forests in Guatemala

“The K’iche have successfully managed their natural resources for centuries using their traditional governing body and ancestral knowledge. As a result, Totonicapán is home to Guatemala’s largest remaining stand of conifer forest. […] EcoLogic has spearheaded a large-scale forest restoration project at Totonicapán, where 13 greenhouses now hold about 16,000 plants apiece, including native cypresses, pines, firs, and alders. […] The process begins each November when community members gather seeds. These seeds then go into planters that include upcycled coconut fibers and mycorrhizal fungi, which help kickstart fertilization. When the plantings reach about 12 inches, they’re ready for distribution.”

July 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[amorchai]

📁 ₊˚⊹ "i'm gonna teach you how to kiss" with jj maybank !! pls i know you would write him so well !

𝐉𝐉 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒.

pairing(s): jj maybank x reader

words: 781

warnings/tags: pet names, mentions of embarrassment, r being inexperienced when it comes to kissing, + jj being jj, this isn’t based off season three, i haven’t watched it yet so cleo hasn’t been placed as a main in this.

a/n: jj was so suited for this one you know him too well omg.

“y/n, what was your first great kiss?” john b had asked. it had been a question going around the group, each answering their own story of them getting past the awkward kissing stage and experiencing their first good kiss.

you had dreaded it coming to you, staying quiet in hope they forget, but your heart falls to your stomach when john b asks. everyone is now looking, jj with an amused, waiting look while sarah looks completely intrigued to see what your answer is.

“uh…” you trail off, not wanting to lie but also unable to think of one at the same time. “oh, come on, you have been kissed before, right?” asks kiara, her expression dropping at the end in realisation that maybe you haven’t.

“yeah. just never knew what i was doing, i guess.”

jj sits up, mouth slightly agape, “you’ve never had a great kiss? never enjoyed one before?” your cheeks feel warm with embarrassment, trying to hide your shy expression at the sudden interrogation.

“it’s okay, that’s nothing to be ashamed of…” sarah trails off, interrupting jj’s shocked gaze, “no it’s not that, it’s just- it’s y/n.” the rest of the group laugh at him, knowing jj for one to constantly talk about you.

it quickly moves onto another topic, kiara noticing your embarrassed state of fidgeting hands and restless legs and it wasn’t brought up again until the stars were out.

pope was asleep on one side of the bonfire while you watched, feeling the warmth and listening to the rest of the group laughing and shouting by the water. and your content state starts to smile knowingly when you see jj jogging back towards you.

“hey, bored?” jj asks, sitting down next to you, his bare shoulder bumping yours and you shiver. “no, i’m good. you know pope would freak out if he wakes up and none of us is there.”

jj laughs at this, lounging against the tree stump behind and looking at you longingly. you could feel it, tearing your eyes slowly away from the orange flames and to jj’s blue gaze.

he’s looking all across your features, every inch until landing to your lips as they part with a long breathe, “you’ve really never had a good kiss before?”. you’re both quiet, whispers catching due to the close proximity, jj leaning further towards you.

“i told you, j. i don’t really know how it works still,” you say honestly because if jj kisses you right now he would be disappointed by the inexperience. but jj doesn’t waver, in fact his hand reaches up to dance his fingers delicately across your cheek while leaning further in.

“w-what are you doing?” you ask alarmed, jj mimicking your expression while assuring you, “i’m gonna teach you how to kiss.” he says it as if it’s simple, as if it’s a normal part of being friends.

you know the moment his lips touch yours, your feelings for him would only grow stronger which is a dangerous game. but seeing him so close and feeling his breath against your lips pull you in.

“okay?” jj asks, pausing, eyebrows raising and you nod, “okay.”

his smile is wide, scanning your lips before moving his grip to your chin, angling it so your lips line to his before whispering his last lines, “just follow what i do, you’ll get it in no time, honey.”

before you could properly process, jj’s lips are against yours and your eyes close immediately. there’s an internal panic, wondering what to do as jj moves his lips slowly against yours, but jj smiles while both his hands firmly hold my face.

“just move your lips with mine,” he murmurs against your lips, and the internal panic seizes into nothing, your thoughts pulled from your head until all you can focus on is jj.

he moves more desperately when you kiss back, the feeling unlike anything else as he moves further towards you. “that’s it, baby,” jj says against your mouth, unwilling to pull away just yet and you only kiss back, so wrapped up.

you could get used to this, very easily. only if it was jj’s lips, and by the way he’s holding you and kissing you makes you believe he felt the same. you would find out later, hesitant to pull away as his nose nudges yours while he moves his head.

“could you do that inside, please?” you both pull away at the voice, pope glaring at you both tiredly before his head lobs down to go back to sleep and jj kisses your cheek before reaching for your hand, “he makes a good point.”

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[sparklystarrrr]

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Riddle R. x Alice! Reader

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓕𝓲𝓿𝓮 ~ 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓤𝓹

I shuffled back in pure shock, landing straight on my butt,"G-GRIM??!! What are you doing here?!" He only laughed maniacally in my face. "You thought I'd let go of coming here that easily? Myahaha! You really are stupid!!"

"S-stupid?! What a cruel thing for a cat to say..." I frowned in distaste.  All he would continue to do was giggle in my face while I sat there, equivalent to a fat tree stump. He wiped the tears pricking his big blue kitty eyes after getting a good chuckle out of himself, "Myah! From this day on, you're my esteemed henchwoman! You may rejoice now, myahaha!" I stood to my feet and dusted off the oversized robe. "No class is taught to this cat... Is this really how my first year of Night Raven will be..?" I grimaced while speaking to myself. I blurred out the sounds of Grimm complaining that I wasn't paying attention to him. I was engrossed in my thoughts.

Suddenly I was transported down this rabbit hole into a whole new world(figuratively) and now I had to deal with a mean childhood friend and a bitchy cat thing?! This is absurd."Hey, are you listening to me girl?!" Grim screeched and broke me from my train of thought. "No! No I am not! Leave at once or I will get the Housewarden involved!" I retorted back at him. Actually... I have my own unique magic... why am I relying on Riddle to solve my problems? Not like he really seems to care about them anyways. "Curiouser and Curiouser!" I yelled! He was concealed with a loud clank back into a teapot,"Hah! Take that you uncouth kitten!" I cackled like a mad witch in examining my victory. What broke me from it was the sound of angry heeled boots hitting the checkered floors. "What is this ruckus?! Barely 24 hours in the dorms and yet you're already breaking the rules!"

Riddle bustled down the hall closer to me. His red hair paled in comparison to his bright red face, nearly blending together. "(y/n) Pleasance!! What is the meaning of using your Unique Magic!? The use of magic is highly prohibited from being used on Heartslabyul grounds unless for Unbirthday parties!!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. "That cat over there made me! He made a fool of me all to have a giggle-- Calling me his henchwoman and what not." I crossed my arms over my chest in protest. This "defiance" only seemed to enhance his anger ,"I have no care for these foolish reasons- averting the blame is another rule broken!" "Riddle, this is completely unfair!-" "It is OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!" A loud clank struck through the halls of Heartslabyul as the heart shaped collar weighed heavy on my neck. It was rather constricting. 

"You shall read the rule book cover to cover. I expect a report of the book and why it is important to have all 810 rules by the end of this week, are we clear?" He sounded condescending. His tone made anger bubble up from my stomach."Yes we are, Riddle." I said through barred teeth. His grey eyes flashed with a glint of irritation and superiority I'd never seen in his eyes."It is Housewarden to you, or else you'll dawn yet another collar." And with those final passive aggressive words, he turned the corner out of my new room. 

I rubbed the place where the collar hung. My neck began to feel sore, no amount of lying down could replace the weight of metal around me that constricted my magic. Even worse, Grim was still here. He was no cat like Dinah, as she was a polite young lady with quiet meows. He was a greedy fat cat who slept, ate and made fun of me as hobbies. And people really thought such a cat would be my familiar? An equally as poised girl? Also absurd. This school was just so.. curious.

Hi cherubs! Sorry I was gone for like a whole month. April was a crazy time for me,  but here I am in May with a new chapter ~ enjoy <3

[awyeahitssam]

Time travel AU; Tomarry

Harry was seven the first time he appeared.

Tom arrived to him small and trembling, with bare blue fingers and toes. His teeth chattered noisily while hands worked insistently up and down his arms to generate some illusion of heat. It was a rather odd sight, considering it was thirty seven degrees outside and Harry was sweating a bit, himself. Not to mention the boy had just materialized in his supposedly secure hiding spot, without so much as a sound of warning or shimmer about the air. 

Or, you know, walking or running, because that’s how any other child got around.

Harry shook away the thought, pushing himself off the tree stump and letting shredded leaves fall from his grasp. 

The child was looking up, now, glancing around like a frightened rabbit, silver-grey eyes wide and wild. He couldn’t have been more than four years old, which wasn’t that much younger than Harry, but he wasn’t used to being around toddlers. In fact he had never been around anyone smaller than him for more than a few minutes - their parents always rushed them away, thanks to his reputation as the Dursleys' troubled nephew.  

Harry wouldn't let the boy freeze because his parents would be mad they'd spoken. Not that they would be angry at the boy, mind: it was Harry that always got into trouble for such things. He would be fine.

(And no, Harry wasn’t at all resentful. Really.)

Dilemma solved, Harry stepped forward resolutely and wrapped his arms around the trembling child. The boy stood stiff and unresponsive, tremors still wracking his form. Harry was a whole head taller than him; from this close he could see what appeared to be snow melting atop night-dark curls.

Harry blinked in surprise. He had thought the boy had been locked in a freezer, with how cold he was, but snow in July? 

Where was it cold this time of year? 

Sweden? 

Antarctica? 

Iceland? 

Did the boy even speak English? 

Harry knew that if you wished hard enough you could escape a place: after all, he had ended up across the schoolyard four days ago, on the school roof of all places! But maybe this boy had gone further? 

“All right?" Harry asked, going to pull away, but the boy suddenly began clinging to him, head pressing forward into his chest.

What did parents call their kids to comfort them? Aunt Petunia always said “Duddums,” or “Dudders,” but those were just nicknames. Maybe… 

“Uh, it’s okay, d-darling?”

The boy stilled again, sniffling once and looking up with narrowed eyes, as if he thought Harry was making fun of him. Maybe only adults called people that? Oh God, Harry had no idea what he was doing. This was his first hug, after all… 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he tried again. “We’ll get you home, so you’ll be all right. With your, uh, parents and stuff. Don’t cry, please.”

Well, that was more begging than reassuring, probably, but Harry had no clue what he was doing here. He’d never had to comfort anyone a day in his life!

“I wasn’t crying!” The boy denied, shoving himself away from Harry fiercely even though he was still quivering and unnaturally pale. “And I don’t have any parents.”

“Oh. Okay,” Harry raised his hands defensively, ready to spring back if the boy lashed out again. When people got angry with him it rarely went well. “Um, I don’t either. Have parents, that is. And I didn’t mean to make you upset.” 

Harry wasn’t going to apologize for it. He had to do enough of that at the Dursley’s, and he had only been trying to help, besides. Still, he knew how frustrating it was when parents got brought up. The reminder that he was an orphan, trapped with the Dursley’s for a very long time to come, was far from comforting. 

“Just another orphan, then,” the boy said dismissively. Harry didn’t bother being offended, as it was the truth, though that tone was a bit... 

“I suppose,” Harry said. “You’re still cold, aren’t you? Let’s move out of the shade.” 

The boy squinted at him suspiciously, but nonetheless followed when Harry led the way to a nearby rock and gently pressed him to sit on it. He kneeled on the dead, brown grass and eyed blue fingers and bare toes worriedly.

“That’s not good,” he whispered. Harry reached out to the other boy slowly, as though he were a wild animal, and the child jerked away.

“What are you doing?”

“They’re blue,” Harry frowned. “Just - let me -” 

Harry took the boy's hands in his own and brought them to his mouth, breathing hot air onto them. The boy made a mildly disgusted sound and made to move back, but Harry held tight, rubbing to create heat through friction. 

He felt gross and sweaty, and frankly the cool of the boy’s hands was a relief on such a day, but mostly he was worried. He knew, vaguely, of hypothermia, and he didn't want the boy’s fingers to fall off.  

The boy glared at Harry, but didn't try to pull away again, though he watched his every movement rather suspiciously. That wasn't anything new to Harry, of course. Everybody found him suspicious. 

“Where am I?” The child demanded, after a long period of silence in which they were essentially holding hands. 

“We’re at a park in Little Whinging, Surrey.” 

“Surrey? I was just in London…”

Harry frowned back. “Are you sure? It's not snowing in London.”

“It was five minutes ago,” the boy said firmly, crossing his arms. 

“In July?” Harry murmured, incredulous. 

“I'm not lying,” the boy said coolly, though the effect of his glare was somewhat ruined by the shivers still wracking his body. “And it's February, besides.”

“I didn't say you were lying,” Harry huffed. “Just that you’re wrong. It's July 30th.”

The boy frowned, glancing from the sun high in the sky to the brown grass. He seemed at a loss, eyes flitting around as if trying to find something to refute Harry’s claim.

Harry watched him, considering. 

“My name is Harry,” he said. “What’s yours?”

The boy blinked at him. “Tom,” he said. “Tom Riddle.”

...

Harry was in the astronomy tower, legs dangling over the edge, eyes looking towards the ground. His companion arrived as suddenly as always, the only announcement of his presence the prickling at Harry’s neck.

“...Harry?” 

He turned with a tired smile, faltering only slightly when he noted what Tom was wearing. A slightly oversized version of the Hogwarts uniform hung over his small frame, a silver and green tie smoothed on his neck. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Harry asked, falling to his knees beside the bright-eyed boy. Tom wasn’t crying, but his eyes were burning with something like anger and loneliness and despair. It took Harry a moment, but when he caught sight of the bruise marring Tom’s face he felt his breath catch in his chest.

“You—who—how dare—!” Harry couldn’t seem to bring himself to coherence, so instead he shut his mouth and carefully tilted Tom’s chin to get a better look at the mark. It was large, spanning from his right cheekbone to eyebrow: a mottled, puce discoloration that never should have touched on Tom’s strong features. 

Tom allowed Harry to maneuver him without complaint, eyes wide and hungry as they took him in.

“Even at Hogwarts,” the younger boy murmured, smaller hand reaching out, brushing against Harry’s cheek. 

Harry couldn’t help the soft look that overcame him, despite the anger boiling, wrathful, in his gut at the sight of Tom’s injury. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I’d rather not go ten months without seeing you, Tom.” 

Though truly it hadn’t been so long for Harry. After all, hadn’t he seen Lord Voldemort rise only a few months ago?

But no. This was Tom, his first friend, the first person he’d thought to protect, not a single trace of serpent in his visage.

This was Tom, with one of his eyes half swollen shut.

Harry didn’t know any healing charms, but he had taken to carrying around the salve Hermione made for his hand. He unscrewed the lid and gathered more than was probably necessary, the goop thick on his fingers. 

“Stay still for me, okay?” 

Tom tilted his head, not wary but measuring, and Harry held his gaze until the boy’s shoulders loosened and he nodded.

Once upon a time, Lord Voldemort had been capable of trust. Theoretically it was a hard thing to grasp, but in practice it just made something in Harry’s chest melt.

Harry massaged the salve in gently, careful not to get too close to Tom’s eye. He was nearly done by the time Tom gasped, jerking away.

It must have started tingling.

“That’s…” 

“Strange?” Harry smiled at him. “Yeah. Hold still, you’ll need a bit more to help with the swelling.” 

“Why do you have this?” Tom asked, even as he obediently shut his eyes and swayed forward. “Have you been getting into fights, Harry?” 

How strange, the way Tom said his name now, compared to the way he would one day, in a dark, dreary graveyard.

Harry laughed off the comparison, laughed so he didn’t retreat back to misery, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Tom’s forehead. To the place that he would one day mark Harry.

“Always,” he smirked, pulling back to catch sight of Tom’s wide-eyed look. He screwed the lid back on the salve, wiping his fingers on his robe and slipping it back into his pocket. “Now, are you just going to sit there gaping all night, or would you like to learn how to defend yourself with magic?” 

Tom opened his mouth, probably in protest against that gaping remark, but closed it before saying anything and nodding his assent.

Harry drew his wand, a wand Tom had only seen a handful of times, and he couldn’t help the way his muscles tensed. Harry didn’t mention it.

“Protego,” he enunciated, making the motion with his wand a bit slower than he might otherwise.

“That’s a fifth year spell,” Tom pointed out.

“One that you’ll master,” Harry agreed cheerily. “Unless you want to be tickled to death.” 

It would have been more logical to use some sort of pain as motivation - such as a stinging hex - but Harry, Tom knew, did not want to hurt him. Still, he could deal with pain. Given his age, Harry was expected to be stronger than him, to be able to harm him. And to Tom, it would be far more humiliating to be reduced to helpless giggles.

Harry knew him too well, to play on his pride like this.

Tom found he didn’t mind

It took time, but Tom did manage to conjure the shield charm. 

Only when Harry flicked his wand the spell broke through, and Tom fell to the ground in peels of laughter. Harry held the enchantment for a long moment, watching grey eyes come alive with mirth, small body wriggling, before he waved his wand in a silent counter.

“Don’t rely on your shield alone,” Harry instructed. “You may be strong, but you’re still a first year, which means somebody else is stronger.” 

As if he needed the reminder, Tom mused bitterly, hand jerking a bit as he fought the urge to prod at his tingling bruise. Harry didn’t mention his short, derisive laugh. 

“What did you do when somebody tried to hit you at the orphanage? Dodged. It doesn’t matter that you have a wand, and spells; those aren’t the only tools available to you. You have a body - use it!”

In a way Tom appreciated the way Harry never sugarcoated anything. On the other hand, mere mention of the orphanage infuriated him. If not for the fact that Harry had been bullied himself, Tom might have held a grudge. As it was he knew Harry understood him, and what he went through. Knew that he was only mentioning that rotten place to draw a comparison and not degrade him. 

He didn’t get impatient when Tom’s second attempt failed, or his third and fourth, nor did he relent in his assault. He was strangely inspirational, Tom thought. He was encouraging, but had high expectations, and he seemed used to teaching. His patience went far further than Tom’s own extended, and he had no trouble explaining things a different way when his words didn’t click for Tom. 

But then, Tom almost instinctively knew what Harry meant. They were connected, in some odd, impossible way. 

Tom’s cheeks had burned in embarrassment when he discovered that there was no such thing as soulmates, even in the magical world. He had been so sure.

…

“You’ve gone pale.”

Tom looked down to his fading fingers with a scowl. 

“I want to spend more than a measly two hours with you,” he said, gripping the front of Harry’s robes as though it would prevent their time from coming to an end. 

“I know, darling,” Harry murmured, running a hand through his night-dark curls. “Just remember that I'm very proud of you, all right? I care for you, and that accounts for the decades we have to spend apart.”

“Harry, have I found you yet?” Tom whispers. The question hangs in the darkness, but before Harry can formulate a response Tom vanishes from his arms. 

…

“Hello darling,” Harry smiles, rather taken with the blush that lights Tom’s nose and the tips of his ears. “When are we?”

“31st of December, 1940.”

“Happy birthday, then. How does it feel to be fourteen?”

“No different than thirteen, I’d imagine,” Tom replies. 

“No?” Harry’s eyes glint wickedly. “Let’s see if we can’t brighten your day. Have you ever been ice skating, Tom?”

Tom blinked at him, eyebrows pulling together. “No,” he responds. “Have you?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Something in Tom thrills at the reckless grin Harry levels him with. “We can try together, yeah? The Black Lake should be frozen over, and I know a few spells if not. The grounds should be abandoned at this time, especially considering it’s break.”

Tom stares incredulously for a moment longer, before shaking his head. “It’s past curfew, Harry. Even if it’s a holiday, I can’t be caught outside and still be chosen as a prefect next year.”

“Let’s not get caught, then,” Harry says softly, eyes sparking. 

Tom takes him in for a moment, and lets out a long sigh - mostly for show, mind you. Being cooped up in the Common Room, staring out at the Black Lake was hardly what Tom wished to be doing, regardless of the days. “Only you, Harry Potter, could talk me into doing such a thing. You’d better be practised with cushioning charms.”

A warm hand comes to grip Tom’s, pulling him towards the door. “We won’t need them,” Harry says, sounding rather assured. “You’re ridiculously graceful, so I expect you to catch me if I start to fall.” 

Harry, it turns out, is far better at keeping his balance on the slick surface. But the older boy takes both of his hands, slowly skidding backwards, balancing him so he won’t fall. And Tom is sure that when he does, he takes Harry with him.

…

Tom is standing on the balcony. Harry looks him over, absently checking for injuries. 

“You look posh,” he says, surprised. The last time he had seen Tom, he was still in second hand robes, though judging by his appearance it had been nearly a year - or an abrupt growth spurt. 

“Harry,” Tom breathes out, and all of the irritation in his posture and face smooth out as he turns and catches sight of him. Something like excitement brightens the air around him, and he reaches out, catching Harry’s sleeve and drawing him close. “You’re really here.”

“I am,” Harry smiles. “Have I kept you waiting?”

“Rather,” Tom sniffs. “It’s been nearly a year. You’ve chosen a rather poor venu, though; the Malfoy’s annual Yule Ball.”

“Oh,” Harry frowned. “I suppose you’ll need to get inside and schmooze with the purebloods.” 

“That is the point in me attending,” Tom agreed lightly. “But the ball is already halfway over, and I’ve met plenty of important people already. You could join me for a dance…” 

“Inside?” Harry asked, surprised. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tom… if anybody but you sees me, I’m afraid of what’ll happen.”

“The music’s loud enough,” Tom offers. There’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, Harry notes. A very rare thing, for Tom is most always sure of himself. “We can dance here.” 

Harry smiles, drawing Tom’s hand into his own. “All right, but don’t be mad if I step on your toes. You’ve asked for it.”

Tom’s eyes glint. A smirk curls his lips. “Oh my,” he says, stepping close as one hand finds Harry’s waist and the other intertwines their fingers. “Have we found something I’m better at?” 

Harry snorted. “You’re better at loads,” he said, stumbling a step back when Tom begins their dance. “I’ve got nearly three years on you at the moment, and I’m positive your spell knowledge well exceeds mine.”

Tom quirks a brow. “Perhaps if you studied more?”

Harry smiled. “I started studying seriously in my Fourth year. You, however, have been at it from your First.”

“Shall we duel?”

“I’d rather we never cross wands,” Harry says lightly, but his eyes have gone dark. He grips Tom a bit tighter, posture straightening. Tom’s nearly a head shorter, like this. “This is hard to do backwards.”

“Then lead.”

Tom’s words had been half-teasing, but when Harry takes control of the dance things smooth out rather quickly. He’s clearly at least practiced in this part, and twirls Tom around the balcony without much trouble.

“There you are,” Tom says into his neck, “No more stepping on me.” 

Harry huffs a laugh, one hand rising from Tom’s waist to brush through his hair. The motion is soothing, half-remembered from the last time Tom had a fever. He leans deeper into Harry. He would join them together if he could; make them intrinsic, never able to be torn apart, not even by time. 

“I miss you,” Tom admits, like it’s a dark secret. “When you’re gone, I miss you, Harry. I’ve never missed anybody else.” 

Harry’s throat tightens. His hand continues its careful strokes, and they’ve stilled in their dancing. They sway in place.

“I wish we could be like this forever,” Harry says in turn, secret traded for secret. 

Tom makes a noise in his throat, something almost needy, and clings harder, nails digging into Harry’s robe. “Don’t leave,” he demands. “Stop leaving me.” 

Harry sighs. “I can’t,” he says. “You know I can’t, Tom.”

Tom pulls back, meeting his eyes. His face is flushed from the cold, eyes gleaming with a fierce longing. Something in Harry aches in answer.

“Let’s sit,” Harry says softly. “The sky is beautiful here.”

Tom nods, but hardly lets them pull apart. They sit, limbs tangling, but instead of staring at the stars Tom stares at Harry. Harry pretends not to notice.

An hour later, only the lingering warmth of Tom’s palm proves he was ever there at all.

…

The next time Tom appears it’s in Harry’s time. The situation is less than ideal; it’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and there's an attack.

But Tom does not know the context. All he knows when he appears is that Harry is flushed, breathing hard, back pressed against a building. And Tom does not freeze like Harry sometimes does at the abrupt displacement, but strides towards Harry with a familiar determination.

It’s the look Lord Voldemort gets when he’s decided to kill Harry.

But instead, Tom presses him tighter against the building. Searches his face. And then he pushes their mouths together, lips moving insistently against Harry’s own, almost desperate to provoke a reaction. 

Apparently deciding to kiss and kill Harry inspires the same look.

There’s a moment when Harry wants, but then he pulls away, the rejection gentled by the way he cradles Tom’s cheek. 

“Tom, I -”

Harry's eyes flick up from Tom’s, catching a movement,  and his hands drop as though burned. He’s quick to grab Tom by the hips and switch their positions, putting his body between Tom and Voldemort as he took in the tall, serpentine Lord. 

Voldemort’s smile was a cruel, mirthless thing. “Playing house with one of my horcruxes, Harry? How… unexpected.”

Harry swallowed. So Voldemort didn’t know, then -  he didn’t remember, though Harry had figured as much. 

“Tom, stay behind me and avoid his eyes.” 

“Harry, who—”

“Please, Tom!”

Tom stepped back, but he didn’t move quickly enough to avoid a bolt of purple light.

‘Bugger,’ Harry thought, body jerking in front of Tom instinctively, taking the hit. 

The spell has no evident effect beyond freezing him in place, and a strongly thought Finite Incantatum saw him free. Still, Harry did not shift; he would use any advantage he could get, and Voldemort thinking him helpless was certainly an advantage.

“What shall I do with you now, Harry?” Voldemort hissed, a demented smile pulling his lips up. 

“Avada Ked—“

“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried. Tom’s wand flew from his hand, smacking Harry’s palm. Well, so much for that plan. “Expelliarmus!”

“Crucio.”

The spells slammed together and the magic splintered, the wand's magic dying as it recognized it was being turned against itself. 

Voldemort’s eyes burned. “How do you have that wand?”

Harry watched him carefully, backing up until his hip pressed against Tom. He pressed the yew wand into warm hands, not daring to take his eyes off Voldemort to see his expression. 

Tom inhaled sharply, and he was too clever to not connect the dots. When he spoke his voice was torn between horror and fury. “There’s no way.”

“You need to go,” Harry hissed back. “Now.” 

“We haven’t exactly figured out how to control it—”

“Tom,” Harry snapped. The other teen quieted, and Harry heard fabric shift. “Repeat after me: lapsu temporis corrigi posse.”

“Harry—”

“Do you want to die?” 

There was a long pause. A hand pressed over Harry’s spine, almost too hard to be a comfort. 

“Lapsu temporis corrigi posse.”

The air shifted, and the warm pressure of spindly fingers against Harry’s back melted away. 

Harry and Voldemort stared each other down from across a field.

“It seems,” Voldemort hissed, “we have much to discuss, Harry.”

[thscharmngman]

a tentative, exploratory kiss between friends. - viola

"Are we friends, or are we something more?" Hartley asked. His hazel-green eyes searched hers with a ghost of a smile on his lips. Throughout their entire relationship with one another, he had always felt that it had been more. If Viola wanted a friendship, that was fine, he could obey that. But an exploratory kiss between them when he could tell fire fumed between them, starved for air meant that this wasn't just anything for him. "I'll kiss you, but then you have to admit to some things."

[abcjxyzyeo]

haiii!! i have a request for you! could you maybe do a Sokka x Kiyoshi Warrior reader who watches over Sokkas trainings with Suki and he becomes embarrassed or wtvr because of how much hes failing? it can go any way you want, idm really. thanks sweets!<33

-🦢

Heart of a Warrior

AN; Request by 🦢 !!! Omg I absolutely love this idea sm, I had a little field day w this one 😘😘 But tbh I didn't know how to end this too the ending is kinda rushed and bad !!! Also for this js imagine Sokka and Suki r 20 and reader is 18 !!(It doesn't matter but Katara and Aang r still 12/14 !!) AND ONE MORE THING OMFG anyways just imagine that the gaang stayed at kyoshi for a little bit longer like 2 weeks before the fire nation came. (why does it feel so weird writing a fic for Sukis' sister x Sokka like dam she rlly stole her sisters man 😭😭)

Pairing; Sokka x afab!reader(romantic), Suki x afab!reader(family)

summary; When the gaang visits Kyoshi Island to ride some Koi fish, Sokka seems too distracted too even try to figure out whatever is going on with Katara and Aang. And distracted by a certain younger Kyoshi Warrior

warnings; not proof read!!, angst(?), sumwhat sfw ? semi one sided enemies to lovers

You sighed, wiping off the lengthy make up you wear to be a warrior. You loved being a Kyoshi Warrior more than anything, but it was tiring. You were two+ years younger than everyone else so Suki, your older sister and the leader, let you take breaks every so often. Luckily she said you can take the day off. You started to lay down to take a nap when you heard running and yelled outside, in your pjs you ran to grab your fan and went quickly outside. Staring at the trio that was tied to the podium you were star struck. Their clothes were so different than anything you have ever seen. You had honestly(but luckily) been sheltered to only have to know clothing from the earth kingdom and Kyoshi island. After debating between the three and your sister, the young bald monk was revealed to be the avatar. Something about it irked you and you rolled your eyes. When you looked back you had caught the attention of a water tribe boy who seemed to be your sisters age. he started to walk over and talk to you, but nothing peaked your interest. Mostly just him giving back handed sexist compliments.

"Your sister is pretty strong for a girl!" He chuckled, obviously annoyed he was ambushed by girls.

"Uh huh" not giving him common curtesy to look him in the eyes.

After a few more comments you simply zoned him out. Well until he asked something that you were actually interested in.

"Sooo.. are you one of the painted fighters too?"

"Um. A Kyoshi warrior? Yea I am" and he gave an interesting look so with that you walked off sighing to yourself. The first outsiders to visit during this 100 year war had to be the most uninteresting people ever. (Cuz honestly you weren't completely convinced the Avatar was here on good terms, he'd probably just lead the fire nation here.)

For the next few days you saw Sokka try and learn how to fight like a Kyoshi Warrior. It kind of disgusted you, you know he just wanted to be better than Suki, but luckily she was the best of the best so you had nothing to fear.

Suddenly you found your feet moving towards the duo practicing, against your will. You knew you disliked Sokka, you avoided him as much as possible. It was baffling to you how different he is from his sister, at least you could stand her. Once you reached the two you sat on a near-by tree stump. Sokka looked over mid attack and absolutely fumbled falling straight on his face. You rolled your eyes and his face went bright red. For the hour that you watched them, Sokka missed every hit and took every hit thrown at him. By this time you were annoyed, instead of finding it humorous. It was like he was trying to be funny and mess with a sacred art form. Frustrated, you loudly groaned and walked away. Sokka knew he had messed up, he wanted to be good, he wasn't sure if it was for him or for you. He thanked Suki and ran off to find you.

Practicing all your moves you had learned over the course of your young teenage life, you left someone creep behind you. Stopping what you're doing you turn around, expecting Suki, but finding Sokka. You simply crossed your arms expecting him to speak.

"You saw me practice today" he uttered embarrassed

"Indeed I did," rolling your eyes

"I didn't mean to mess up, I was just nervous with you watching!"

"Whatever you say water boy, just stay out of my way and stop making a fool out of yourself." you turned back around and tried expanding your fan, but suddenly a hand was on your wrist and your hip, spinning you around instantaneously. Sokka's face was mere inches from yours, he looked down at your lips and back up to your eyes making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"Why won't you give me a chance?" he whispered low

Your mind whirred, 'chance for what? Why does he want a chance? Why is he so close?'

"Um what do you mean?" you gulped loudly

He let go of you lightly, "Why don't you give me a chance to show you I'm not who you think I am, I'm strong and a warrior."

You immediately scoffed "Yea right, what I saw today really showed that." this obviously pissed Sokka off, and he lowered his head down to stare at you in the eyes. Suddenly you could smell him, taking a moment to appreciate how clean he kept himself, you gathered and studied every inch of his face. Pausing to look at how nice his lips looked in the light. A moment of silence was suddenly broke.

"Like what you see?" He said smirking, leaning in to close the distance between yours and his lips.

You yelped loudly before throwing him over your shoulder and running away.

After what happened it was easy to ignore him and his practices. But your heart didn't want to, some how that stupid pony tail boy made you yearn for him. But your brain knew it wasn't a good idea to fall for a strange boy, let alone let him know that. But fate was against the organ in your head and as you turned the corner you saw, once again, your sister practicing with the water tribe boy. You walked up to them to watch but this time when Sokka noticed you, he gave it his all. Easily overpowering Suki, her face turning bright red that you could see through the makeup. Sokka crossing his eyes and giving a smug look. Your jaw dropped and you felt something inside your stomach, a tight knot that wouldn't untie. Sokka walked over to you after thanking Suki and bowing to her.

"How was that?"

you just stared at him, shellshocked. Causing him to laugh he rolled his eyes at you, he wrapped one hand around your waist and one around the back of your neck pulling you in for a kiss.

You eased yourself into it, kissing back. Your brain knew it was wrong but what was so bad with letting your heart win?

"Well Sokka, you do have the heart of a warrior." you laughed before leaning in for another kiss.

[falloutbradreviews]

Folie A Deux Is An Underrated Masterpiece: 17 Years Later

It must have sucked to be almost any band other than Fall Out Boy in 2008. Aside from Fall Out Boy, only a few bands in the emo and pop-punk scene were on top. Those bands would have to be Panic! At The Disco, My Chemical Romance, and maybe Paramore, but in their case, they were fresh off releasing 2007’s Riot. I would say that it was because Paramore only had a couple of albums, but Panic had only released their sophomore album, 2008’s Pretty Odd just a few years after their debut. Paramore hadn’t become the juggernaut that the other three bands already were, but they would soon get there. I think Panic and MCR sold more records than Fall Out Boy, but Fall Out Boy were always my favorite band of the scene, and they were the first band I truly loved from it. I did listen to MCR and Panic sooner, but I didn’t really love those bands as much as I loved Fall Out Boy when I first listened to them back in 2007. Fall Out Boy is a band that probably doesn’t need any introduction, because of how massive they were back 20 years ago (and still are today, partially thanks to nostalgia). That’s why it must have sucked to be any other band but them, because they were on top of the world. These four teenagers from Chicago went from putting out a scrappy debut album, 2023’s Take This To Your Grave, on a little known label at the time called Fueled By Ramen to putting out their mainstream breakthrough From Under The Cork Tree in 2005, as well as signing with Island in the process. The rest is history, because they would go onto sell millions of albums for the next few years until going on hiatus in 2009.

While they would come back again in 2013 with Save Rock & Roll, their “last” album before their hiatus was a contentious one. The band started off making of its time pop-punk on their first couple of albums, but their principle songwriter, composer, and vocalist Patrick Stump had a penchant for pop, R&B, and soul music. His vocals already sounded like they belonged in that vein, but his songwriting became more pop-focused with time. It all coalesced on 2007’s Infinity On High. That’s the album that got me into music, and I’ve talked about that many times, but that record was their first number one album and it catapulted them to mainstream superstars. They were huge by this point, and all eyes were on them for the follow-up. That’s where Folie comes into play, because this record has a contentious history with both their fans and the scene at large. This album went from being severely hated by fans (yet still liked by critics) to becoming a cult classic in their discography over the next decade. I missed my chance to talk about this record a couple of years ago when it turned 15, but I’ve been spending a lot of time with it this week, just because I’m feeling awfully nostalgic for the mid-00s emo, pop-punk, and neon pop-punk scenes that I was heavily involved with at that time. I wanted to talk about this album retrospectively, because this album was a big deal when it came out, but it’s still a big deal today. To understand why that album is such a big deal, it’s best to look at the time period the album came out in, where the band’s head was at that time, and the overall impact the album has made since its release back in 2008.

I just posted a piece on the mid-00s neon scene, and I talked about this album a bit, because of its association with the scene, as well as how influential this album was to a lot of bands in that scene. I only talked briefly about it, but Fall Out Boy were of the world before this album. They had just released Infinity On High, and that album introduced more of a pop and R&B sound to their repertoire, so they were able to rank in more fans that otherwise wouldn’t have heard of them. They were becoming a household name with that record, so the pressure was high for a suitable follow-up. Up until this point, however, the band operated similarly to The Beatles: they had two main songwriters, this time in the form of Patrick Stump and bassist / lyricist Pete Wentz. Patrick would write the songs and Pete would write the lyrics, but both guitarist Joe Trohman and drummer Andy Hurley were becoming burnt out by not being able to contribute anything. This record was a lot more collaborative than their previous few (which is something they would continue more so on later in their career), but this was also their fourth album in five years. The wear and tear on the band was beginning to show, so it makes sense that they would take a hiatus after this one. They needed a break, and I can’t blame them whatsoever for that. Infinity On High marked their change in sound, but it wasn’t drastic enough that fans had an issue with it. The pop-punk was still there, but they had flashes of R&B, soul, pop, and other kinds of music, so it wasn’t as dramatic of a shift as Folie A Deux was.

In retrospect, Folie A Deux isn’t that much of a shift in sound. The band just went fully pop-rock with some power-pop, R&B, and soul elements in their sound this time around, versus being strictly pop-punk. The lead singles of this album are a good indicator of what to expect as a whole, those being “I Don’t Care” and “America’s Suitehearts,” both having huge choruses and witty lyrics that are less autobiographical for Wentz but look at society as a whole. Whether it’s how selfish people can be, or a scathing take on celebrity culture, these songs had the clever and fun one-liners that people expect from them, but they looked outward at the world at large, instead of inward. I think that turned off some fans, because they could relate to their cynical, self-loathing, and introspective lyrics, versus lyrics that talk about the world as a whole. What really turned off people was the sound, because if there’s something that a lot of scene and emo kids didn’t like, it was pop music. Pop music was a dirty word for a lot of kids that enjoyed that music, me included. Even now, a lot of fans that grew up still think pop music is bad. Some of it is, sure, but I’ve grown to enjoy a lot of it, and I don’t immediately disregard a band or artist for moving in that direction. The blatant embrace of pop-rock was something that turned off a lot of fans, and even back then, I couldn’t understand why. Bands like All Time Low, Forever The Sickest Kids, Mayday Parade, The Cab, and Cute Is What We Aim For were blatantly borrowing from pop-rock and power-pop, so why did people that Folie A Deux for doing the same thing? The vitriol that people felt with this album has always baffled me, and it’s baffled me even more so when people retroactively hailed this album as a masterpiece.

I’ve talked about this album quite a bit as well, but Folie A Deux is among my top three Fall Out Boy albums. I loved it back in the day, because it was their catchiest and their most cohesive album, and I still love it today. I’ve grown to enjoy all of Fall Out Boy’s albums in some capacity, but I still have a soft spot for their last two albums before the hiatus. I love their latest album, too, So Much (For) Stardust, and that’s among my top three as well, but that’s neither here nor there. This record has razor sharp hooks that are among their best, but Patrick’s vocals are also among their best as well; people knew that Patrick could sing, and he demonstrated that well on their first few albums, but Infinity On High started to embrace more styles of music that complemented his vocals. Folie A Deux is the album where Patrick’s vocals were really shown off, but the rest of the band was firing on all cylinders as well. This is super catchy, tight, fun, and energetic as all get out. I don’t get why fans hated this album, but it’s funny that it’s considered to be one of their best now. By the point this record came out, however, the band were burnt out by touring and writing. They needed a break, so they took one. I remember when they announced their hiatus, and it was a sad day for the pop-punk scene. They were a band I had just gotten into a couple of years ago, but it was for the best, I think. The band went their separate ways, and they participated in side projects. Most notably, Hurley and Trohman teamed up with Anthrax’s Scott Ian and Every Time I Die’s Keith Buckley for The Damned Things, a pretty cool hard-rock / heavy metal band, and Patrick Stump’s solo music.

It's kind of a shame, too, because Patrick’s solo music picked up where Folie left off. He really went to pop, soul, and funk music, but fans hated that stuff so much, they booed him off stage many times during a solo tour, and Patrick quit music for a few years. The fan backlash against Folie and his solo music was so toxic, awful, and undeserving. I don’t understand why people hated any of that to begin with, but here we are. That’s just how people were, and unfortunately, still are. Folie has gone onto being a cult classic, and for good reason. It’s got a lot of their best material, as well as a killer lineup of guest stars. On “What A Catch, Donnie” alone, there’s The Cab’s Alex DeLeon, The Academy Is’ William Beckett, Gym Class Heroes’ Travie McCoy, Cobra Starship’s Gabe Saporta, Panic! At The Disco’s Brendon Urie, and Elvis Costello, but Lil Wayne also shows up in the record, so it’s a stacked lineup on there. They pulled all the stops out for that record, but for good reason. Say what you will about their post-hiatus material, but Folie A Deux is among their best in their discography. It’s got such a special place in my heart, because of how this album influenced a lot of other bands and albums I listened to at the same time, but it also influenced what I like in terms of catchy hooks and vocalists with a lot of range. If you haven’t listened to this thing in awhile, I’d say give it another listen. It absolutely rules all these years later, and it’s easily among their best.

[eloquentcoconut]

☆The First Rule Of Book Club: You Do Not Talk About Book Club ☆

Synopsis: Thorn and Sebek, from enemies, to frenemies, back to enemies, right? One of the first of many of Thorn and Sebek's book club shenanigans.

Word Count: 1,982

Notes: I love Pride & Prejudice, could I make it any more obvious? I've teased some of the features in this fic way back in my twst baby names post.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. 

Grim entered Ramshackle’s lounge and ‘slammed’ an envelope sealed in dark green wax bearing Diasomnia’s crest onto the coffee table. “This has got to be from that loud mouthed guy - should I just burn it?” 

I chuckle at Grim’s sentiment - it's no secret that Sebek and I often butt heads, we often rub each other the wrong way, and on occasion argue, but I don’t think we’re enemies by any means.

Like that time in the library, where I got so fed up with him adding ‘for a human’ and the end of all his ‘compliments’ that I bit him and told him if he didn’t obey all my commands, by the next full moon he would become a magicless human. And for some reason he believed me and it snowballed into a crazy rumor, and became a huge mess where Diasomnia got involved… It was nuts.

Or that time at the stables where he tried to get back at me for telling him to fall off his horse, so he said, ‘perhaps it is YOU that should ‘eat manure and die’ and I responded, ‘eat shit and live Sebek.’

And most recently was gym class, we had to rotate between a few sports like volleyball, badminton, and basketball, and somehow, he always ‘accidentally’ managed to hit the back of my head with projectiles. I filled his gym bag with ice cubes and put my ice pack down the front of his pants.  

I squint my eyes at the memories. ‘Maybe we are…?’

“Let’s read it first to check who it's actually from.” I opened the pristine white envelope to reveal aged cardstock, written in non-too refined scrawl but the alternating green and silver sparkled ink was a nice touch. I think someone possessed Sebek though, all the little hearts floating around are just plain goofy and so unlike him.

{DEAR♡ST HUM♡N,}

{IT IS ♡NDER THE GUIDANC♡ OF MY M♡NTOR ♡ILIA THAT I CORDIALLY} {♡NVITE Y♡U TO THE DIASOMNIA LOUN♡E TO PA♡TAKE IN O♡R ♡OOK} {CLUB.}

{AWAITING YO♡R CO♡RESPONDENCE,}

{- ZIG♡OLT.}

Grim and I turn to one another. “This has got to be some sort of prank! No sane person writes like *that.*” Grim points his paw at the discarded letter. 

I shrug. “I guess I’ll find out after classes are over today.”

“Count me out of it!” Grim shouts.

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‘Since I can’t find my missing sock at the dorm, I probably dropped it here. It shouldn’t be too hard to spot.’ Searching by the riverbed, embedded behind the school, many of the trees are barren and the ground is blanketed in warm shades of browns and amber from the fallen leaves. 

As I examined the area, a few bunnies hop diagonally from me, I can’t help but to follow them with my head and spot a silver headed person resting against a stump. ‘Is that…?’

Squirrels, bunnies, and songbirds gravitate around Silver - some even nestled on and around him like a shield against the cold. I crouch down next to Silver and place a hand against his forehead to see if he’s alright. Slowly he stirs awake and looks up at me.

Instantly I’m mesmerized by his eye color. I’ve always thought Silver’s eyes were similar to a mellow violet, but up close, it's almost as if there’s waves of pink and blue. “Whoa your eyes… They really are like an aurora.” 

Silver remains silent for a while, until he gives a soft smile. “Your eyes are like starlight, comforting grey with flecks of gold.” 

Shyly smiling, I extend my hand to Silver to help him up. “I was just checking to see if you were alright, there’s frost in the air, it’ll snow soon. If you sleep out here, you may end up buried or sick.” 

“That’s very responsible of you…You’re Thorn Silvanus right?”

I nod. “And you must be Silver.” 

Silver yawns. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Sebek, whether I want to or not. I hope you don’t dislike Sebek or feel turned away from Diasomnia.”

I let out a hum as I walked with Silver. “I don’t dislike Sebek, I think him thinking my mere existence a scandal by calling me human is funnier more than anything. It's fun to tease someone so serious.”

Silver chuckles. “Oh yes, fa-Lilia and I often tease Sebek too.”

I rub my arms together to warm up. “I’m not sure what Sebek’s issue is with humans though. The way he separates himself from them… Constantly elevating anything related to fae and putting down human stuff it's like he’s projecting? I know he probably looks down on me as much as any other human, but I don’t feel envious of those with magic or jealous of fae… It’s like he has internalized racism?”

Silver’s eyes widen to the point he looks actually awake. “You got all of that from his thundering speeches?’ 

I lightly laugh. “I do read a lot, but that’s just speculation on my part, I could be entirely wrong.” 

Silver places his robe overtop of me. It's my turn to look caught off guard. “You looked cold. My animal friends have kept me warm, wear it until we reach Diasomnia. I’ve heard Sebek was expecting you.” 

“Did you have a choice not to?” Silver and I laugh as we walk to the mirror chamber. 

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The creek of the large oak doors alerted the occupants in the lounge. Sebek’s face twisted as he spotted Silver and I. “You know one another?! And you’re both so familiar already?!”

 I glance at Silver and smirk, “we’ve met before.”

“Once upon a dream.” Silver finishes. 

“Fufufufu! This is a classic exchange from one of my favorite soaps! Whereas the prince charms his way to the heart of the female lead by being himself.” Lilia giggles.  

Sebek squawks and says, “THERE’S NO WAY SILVER WOULD HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THAT HUMAN!” 

 I ignore the comment in favor of riling him up. 

I remove Silver’s coat and neatly fold it, handing it back to him. “Thanks Aurora.” 

“Thanks, Starlight.” Silver gives a polite bow and walks off. 

Lilia clutches his imaginary pearls. “Egad! The drama continues to unravel! What will unfold next?”

I shoot Lilia a grin while I hold out a book for Sebek. “After reading your favorite, I’d like to introduce you to mine: ‘Pride & Prejudice.’” 

Sebek scoffs and loudly criticizes the novel. “Of course you’d pick one of the lowest forms of literature, a romance, second worst to comedy!”

I bring the book back to my bag. “Take this in any way you like, SHUT UP Mr. Darcy!”

Many people in the lounge have paused in their activities to bear witness the infamous ‘Sebek and Thorn argument.’ Murmurs and whispers begin to clutter the space.  

Sebek was about to counter, finger raised, when Lilia reigned him in. “Might I suggest taking your qualms to your dorm room Sebek?” 

Sebek blushes in embarrassment. “Fine! The lounge is unsuitable for a quiet activity anyways.”

Sebek grabs my wrist and leads me to a winding staircase. 

“Unhand me you croc!” I attempt to remove my wrist, twisting and pulling, but that only leads to Sebek interlocking our fingers together.  

 “Be silent!” He spoke loudly.

 “BUY my silence!” I glare back. 

“Mind your steps, these stairs are steep!” Sebek yells back, taking the lead on the narrow staircase. 

“Thanks for the head’s up!” Shortly after, our quarrel resumes.

Our bickering fades the further we go, Lilia gasps, a scheme of his own brewing. “Spicy!”  

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‘Hmm. Sebek’s room is so ordinary and quite frankly boring. The dark academia aesthetic matches the rest of the castle… Dark velvet greens, books and weights, yeah bro works out at the library and studies the blade headass.’ Scanning the room, I spot a large portrait of Malleus hanging on the wall. Internally I sigh. ‘I’m not even going to ask. We know the answer.’  

Without much fanfare we start reading. Sebek sits on the edge of his bed while I sit at his study desk. After a while, I decided to ask Sebek some questions while he read. 

“Sebek, are you close to the second or third ball?”

Sebek let out a hum, “the second one I believe.”

Laughing to myself I tease him. “Go faster Sebek!”

Sebek frowns and goes to stand from his bed, not setting the book down. Unfortunately, Sebek is a bit of an airhead, and he trips over his weights, bumping into the furniture in the process and lets out a series of painful groans.

He quickly places himself back on the bed as if nothing had happened, his barley masked pained expression does nothing to ease my discomfort. I couldn’t help but exclaim, “OH MY GOD SEBEK! Are you okay?” 

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“Hey Grim, where’s Thorn?” Ace looked around the track field. 

Grim sat up. “What happened to ‘hello Grim’ or ‘how are you’? We’re not together all the time ya know!”

“Sheesh! I was only asking a question lint ball!” Ace countered. 

Deuce returned with Jack, where Grim and Ace were to rehydrate. Grim was attempting to break some Maginness World Records and had taken rest atop of their gym bags. 

Everyone silently looked at Grim expectantly. “Thorn’s with that green haired fae at Diasomnia for their book club.” 

Deuce tilted his head. “Really? They still have a club together? I didn’t think Thorn and Sebek got along that well.” 

Ace had a lightbulb moment. “I’ve heard of stuff like this from my older brother. Enemies sometimes get so heated they get personal and take things back to their room! They’re going to smash!”

Jack scowled. “I don’t think we should be jumping to conclusions.”  

“I knew that letter was suspect!” Grim crossed his arms.

“They’re going to smash? We gotta give Thorn back up!” Deuce’s delinquent side threatened to pop out.

Jack huffed. “I think we should mind our business and wait for Thorn or Sebek to tell us what’s going on.” 

“Let’s go rescue my hench-human!” Grim declared.

Jack watched as the trio rushed off, no doubt to cause more damage than if they left well enough alone. “...Idiots.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“Lilia-senpai! Have you seen Thorn and Sebek?” Ace asked.

“Yeah, it's kind of a big deal. We gotta stop them from smashing!” Deuce added.

Lilia, ever the prankster, went along with their little game. “Fufufu, as the saying goes ‘fighting cats are sure to have kittens.’ They’re in Sebek’s dorm room. Though I doubt there will be much brawling going on.”

“Sebek that dog!”

“Cat you mean, no offence Grim.” 

“None taken. BECAUSE I’M NOT A CAT!” 

Lilia guided the misinformed trio to the outside of Sebek’s dorm room and instructed them to wait. Curiouser and Curiouser, they pressed their ears against the door to see if they could hear anything of concern. 

“Sebek are you close?” Thorn questioned sweetly. 

‘Not so strange…’ The trio thought.

“Go faster Sebek!” Thorn urged.

‘A little weird but nothing out of the ordinary…?’ The trio thought.

Not long after, the shifting of furniture and groans rang out.

“OH MY GOD SEBEK!” Thorn cried out. 

‘!!! UHH!’ The trio thought in concern!

The door suddenly flies open! “Aha! Busted! You two are smashing!” Ace accuses. Deuce and Grim have fallen to the floor while Lilia cackles as he floats around. 

Sebek and I looked at one another confused for a moment. “We are? Sebek you should have told me; I would have put my book down.” 

Sebek makes a bewildered face, absolutely lost, with no signs of connecting shit.

[imaginedanvrs]

encrypted relations

part 5 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: 4.2k

warnings: strap on sex (r receiving), public sex

“Can I try your widow bites?” You asked, squinting a little to line your aim up with the empty can placed a few metres away from you. 

  “Absolutely not,” Yelena answered at once from behind you where she leant against a tree stump. She had brought you out to a forest for your latest target practice and had done so under false pretences, as you pointed out to her numerous times. The blonde had invited you to come explore the less charted area of the city outskirts and you had agreed thinking that you were getting a chance to do something with the blonde that you could actually keep up with. Instead she had eventually pulled out her handgun from god knows where, talking about your next lesson.

  “You didn’t even consider it,” you stated. You pulled the trigger and embedded the bullet in a tree close by. 

  “No, I didn’t,” Yelena admitted. You shot her a scowl and lined up the gun again. “Up a little.”

  “How can you tell from over there?” 

  “I am talented in this,” she pointed out. There was no denying that. You fired again and, to no one’s surprise, missed.

  “Why do you not want my sister to know we had sex?” The question came out of nowhere but you knew it would come up eventually. You lowered the gun and faced the blonde who appeared interested above all else.

   “She’s very protective of you, you know?”

  “She’s protective of you too,” Yelena countered. 

  “I’m not her little sister.” 

  “And I am not little.” You handed the gun back to the Russian.  

  “You know, I wanted to meet you for a long time.” If Yelena didn’t like that you changed the subject, she didn’t show it. Her interest remained the same. “It was worth the wait,” you said. To that, she smiled and you couldn’t help but do the same. “So I don’t want to mess it up yet,” you summarised.

  “Why would you?” You weren’t sure how to answer that. You weren’t sure how to explain that aside from not wanting to upset Natasha, you had an abundance of anxieties regarding anything romantic following your experience with Rae. Not to mention that you knew Yelena had a fair amount of issues of her own and you weren’t so sure that they were compatible with your own. 

  Fortunately, you didn’t have to unpack all of that with the blonde yet, because yours and Yelena’s phones chimed at once, interrupting your train of thought. 

  Nat: im leaving for a mission tomorrow. Lets get dinner with Yelena You glanced up at the blonde who was already looking at you somewhat hopefully. 

  “I could eat,” you shrugged. 

  “We have a couple hours to kill,” Yelena said as you typed back a response to the redhead. When you glanced at the blonde, you found a look you were growing very familiar with. 

  “You want to fuck in the forest?” You questioned. Yelena was already strolling towards you leisurely. “Anyone could walk by.”

  “We’re way off the trail,” Yelena pointed out. You found it hard to object when her tumb was stroking the area right next to your lip. “I want you,” she said, pushing you gently into the tree behind you and getting close enough for you to feel a familiar bulge between her legs. 

  “You’re packing right now?” You exclaimed, Yelena grinned in response as she peppered kisses down your neck. 

  “You want to find out?” She asked, guiding your hands to undo her zip. You fumbled around with it without much hesitation, pulling the toy from its restraints for Yelena to spit on as you made quick work of your own barrier. 

  Yelena wasted no time in pushing inside you, lifting you up to settle around her waist so that she could fuck you the way she wanted.  “Fuck, you always take me so well, detka,” the Russian husked sounding unfairly attractive when her accent came out thicker. “Such a good girl,” she emphasised with a particularly harsh thrust. You wrapped your legs around her waist to help the blonde drive herself deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that she always found without fault. 

   “Feels so good,” you moaned against your neck. You held her there as you gradually climbed your way to your peak, having been worked up just at the thought that Yelena had planned this.

  You were falling over the edge with a cry of the blonde’s name, holding her close as she moved her hips in time with your own to help you through your high and stop you plummeting too fast towards the ground. “You always look so good like this,” Yelena muttered as she gazed down at you. You gave her a slightly dazed smile and pressed her forehead against your own with a hum. 

*

  “She is a very bad shot,” Yelena stated to Natasha as you flicked a pea at her from your bowl. 

  “In my defence, I told you so,” you said with a glare that Yelena was entirely unfazed by. “Nat, can I use your widow bites?” The Russian next to you scoffed. 

  “I wouldn’t even hand them to you in an emergency at the risk of you hitting me on the other side of the room.”

  “Ha!”

  “I hate you both,” you grumbled. 

  “We’ll see how long that lasts,” Yelena muttered. You shot her a warning look, knowing how good Nat was at picking up on small signals like that. 

  “So where are you going tomorrow?” You didn’t look in the redhead’s direction as you spoke, not wanting to meet the watchful eyes you were sure you would face. 

  “England,” Nat said after a beat. 

  “Oh, make sure you go to Nandos while you’re there,” you suggested. 

  “Don’t we have that here?”

  “It’s not the same,” you said solemnly. 

  “I’ll give it a drive by,” Nat said with a trace of a smile in her voice. You risked a glance to confirm. 

  “And Buckingham Palace,” Yelena added with her best British accent.

  “Overrated,” you and Nat said at once. You grinned at the redhead, feeling your anxieties slip away. 

  “But when I get back I told the others I want to put aside some time to help with the widows here,” Natasha said. “Although it has been three months, do you think there's that many more here?”

  “It’s hard to say, we’re still working through the files but most of them now are about past operations,” Yelena explained. 

  “Melina thinks we might be coming up to a dead end though,” you admitted, knowing Yelena didn’t want to. You weren’t sure what she was planning on doing if you got to the end of those files and really did have nothing else to go on. Would she move on to somewhere else? 

  “Then what?” Natasha asked. The question hung in the air as a sudden tension filled the space. You didn’t look at either of the Russians, afraid that either of them might pick up on your disappointment. You couldn’t be selfish. Yelena had a job to do and it was far more important than her sticking around so that you two could sneak off together. Yet another reason why you couldn’t let yourself become too emotionally entangled with Yelena. 

  “I don’t know,” Yelena eventually answered when you could feel her heavy gaze on you. “Excuse me,” she said, getting up from the table. Natasha watched her go as you pushed your finished plate forwards. 

  “You guys seem closer than I expected,” Nat assessed and you tried your hardest to underplay your alarm. 

  “I mean it’s been three months,” you shrugged. “She’s close with Kate too,” you added. Nat hummed. 

  “Is she seeing anyone?” You knew that actively avoiding eye contact with the redhead wasn’t the best play here, so you turned in the booth slightly to face her. 

  “I don’t think so.” You weren’t entirely sure you were actually lying. Were you and Yelena seeing each other? You had no idea what you’d call it but you certainly weren’t about to say to her ‘well we have sex sometimes’. Natasha hummed. “Do you think she’d tell you if she was?” It was only then that you realised the redhead wasn’t interrogating you, she was just an interested older sister. And you were a paranoid bad friend. 

  “I do,” you said honestly. 

  “Good, I’m glad to know someone has her back when I’m not around,” Natasha said so sincerely that you felt a wave of guilt crash into your ribs. You could only bring yourself to nod. 

  “I will stay in New York until I find new leads,” Yelena declared as she sat down. 

  “Okay, great,” Nat agreed, not knowing where the sudden assertiveness over her decision came from but certainly not about to question it. You wouldn’t either. You were just happy that she wanted to stay. 

  The rest of the evening went by too fast, even with Yelena insisting on you all ordering double deserts. The widows shared stories that you listened to intently, you all took turns making fun of each other and laughed enough that the time went by quicker than you had anticipated and it soon got to the time that Natasha had to leave to prepare for her mission the following day. 

  Natasha offered you a lift but the younger widow insisted on taking you, saying something about your apartment being on her way. You weren’t entirely confident that Nat bought that, but it was what you went along with anyway. 

  “You can come inside but thanks to that double pudding I think I’m going to collapse in a sugar induced coma the moment we get to the bedroom,” you told the blonde. 

  “That’s okay, can I still spend the night?” Her question surprised you but you agreed without issue. Ever since the first time you and Yelena hooked up, every time she stepped foot in your apartment you would end up having sex at some point, even if you had the intention of focusing on other tasks, so you were expecting the blonde to try and sweet talk her way into your pants at some point or another, but it seemed she really did just want to sleep with you because just ten minutes later she was curled up against your side. 

  You had been stroking her hair as she dozed off to sleep, an action you knew she cherished, and continued to do so for a while longer until you felt yourself get carried under the same wave of exhaustion. You held Yelena even as you slept, comforted by the way her body seemed to melt into your own. 

  Waking up to the sound of distressed whimpers, you looked down at the blonde and noticed a slight layer of sweat across her forehead in the moonlight. She was having a nightmare, you recognised immediately, one that was getting progressively more intense with every passing moment as her chest heaved. 

  “Lena?” You said as you placed a tender hand to her cheek. Her eyes shot open as she grabbed your wrist with an iron grip you didn’t dare flinch at. Instead, you looked her in the eyes as you assured her that everything was okay, that she was safe and that she was there with you. “I’ve got you,” you promised once she buried herself into your chest. You wrapped your arms around her as you felt your shirt grow damp. 

  “It’s alright,” you assured and Yelena bathed in the confidence in your tone as you spoke. 

  “Just talk to me,” you just about heard her murmur into your chest. 

  “I have the day off tomorrow, if you wanna do anything,” you muttered into the dark. You felt Yelena nod. “There’s a hiking trail I usually go to in the summer that I think you might like. There’s some great views and there’s never been many people there when I’ve gone.” You felt her nod again. “Maybe we could bring some food, kind of…make a day of it, you know?” You had already planned to ask Yelena to join you on that hike, so you already had everything in mind.

  “I’d like that,” she told you. 

  “Can Marty come?” You felt her chuckle softly that time. 

  “I guess,” she drawed out. You smiled at her insistence to be witty even when upset. 

  “Are you okay now?” You asked after a moment passed and the blonde’s breathing had steadied. 

  “Yeah,” she said as you stroked her back. “Just a nightmare,” she assured herself. 

  “Yeah,” you repeated, not wanting to push the blonde into telling you what she dreamt of. You knew she had plenty of nightmare material in her lifetime. 

  “Did Nat ever tell you about Dreykov’s mind control?” Yelena asked with a timid edge.

  “She did,” you admitted. You felt Yelena swallow.

  “I dream about the times I was under it a lot,” she told you. “Sometimes I worry that I still might be. I know it’s impossible but it’s just a thought I can’t shake.” You nodded as she spoke, thinking the fear was an entirely valid one you couldn’t imagine ever having to worry about. 

  “I don’t want to ever hurt you,” she whispered. 

  “You never could,” you said without hesitation. Yelena exhaled shakily, as though she had been holding her breath waiting for those words. A silence settled over the room as you held the blonde, both considering what the other had said.

“I don’t usually sleep much.” Yelena admitted. “That’s kind of why but…I sleep when I’m with you,” she said. You hoped she couldn’t feel your heart speed up marginally at her words. It meant a lot to know you could offer Yelena that refuge from her own head, even if a curveball had gotten past you that night.

  “You can stay here as often as you want,” you said. “I’d give you a key but” Yelena chuckled.

  “I don’t need it,” she stated. 

  “Yeah yeah,” you half grumbled. 

  “Thank you, detka,” the Russian said after a comfortable silence settled over the room. 

  “Anytime, Lena.”

~

A sharp stinging vibrating from the side of your neck up to the top of your head was the first thing to greet you when you woke up. You placed your hand to the area tentatively and didn’t feel any clear wound there. “For a second?” You questioned, as you remembered Natasha being in your apartment. 

  You glanced around at the box room you were in, taking in pretty much everything you expected to find when you woke up. It was a standard interrogation room. An obnoxiously big two way mirror for everyone in the department to come and peer through, grey walls, a single metal door, a few uncomfortable chairs, a small table. The only thing missing was handcuffs. Even though Natasha had told you she wasn’t going to use them, you still believed you would be in them when you woke up. Perhaps they had realised that you really weren’t a threat and that you wouldn’t even make it past the locked door, that was even assuming you wanted to leave. You wouldn’t. Backing out wasn’t an option when you knew how pissing Rae was going to be when she noticed you were gone. 

  You pulled at your jumper sleeves and noticed that your coat was hanging over the back of your chair. You had wrongly assumed they would have taken it. You felt around in the pockets, noting that your lighter wasn’t in there. So you didn’t hold all of their confidence. 

  Just as you took your hands out of your pockets, the door opened and a suited man walked through. He was examining the contents of the tablet in his hands as he sat down and didn’t look up at you as he spoke. “Miss l/n,” he began, putting the tablet down. Your passport photo was on it along with a lot of text you couldn’t read. “Am I right in assuming you know why you’re here?” He asked, folding his fingers together and placing them on the table as he stared at you. 

  “You found traces of me accessing confidential information,” you stated with no intention of lying to the agent. 

  “Correct, do you know what that information was about?” You shifted in your seat, avoiding his gaze. 

  “Not really, I opened the video for a second but then I closed it,” you recalled. “Is that kid okay?” You asked because you had to. You had passed that video on to Rae and had no idea what had been done with it since. 

  “Why did you access that video?” You looked up at the man and knew he wouldn’t answer your question. In all fairness, you had no right to know. 

  “Someone asked for it.” 

  “Who?”

  “I can’t say.” The agent narrowed his eyes at you. 

  “If someone holds that information then it’s critical we know who,” he explained. You sighed as you leant back in your chair, suddenly feeling the urgency for fresh air. “Miss l/n,” he pushed impatiently. 

  “I can tell you everything I’ve accessed. I can tell you when and how but I can’t tell you who I gave it to.” You were well aware of the fact that you owed Rae nothing and that protecting her would do no good, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say her name because no one could be sure of what it meant for her. If she was lucky, S.H.I.E.L.D would bring her in for questioning and lock her away for no doubt as long as yourself. If she wasn’t, word could get back around to whoever was at the top of what she was a part of and you knew that they weren’t the kind of people who tolerated loose ends. You were one of the ones that identified them. 

  “If it’s not current then-”

  “Dmitriev was the first one, a couple months ago almost.” The agent stared at you for a long moment. He recognised that name, that much was clear. Had he known him?

  “Excuse me, Miss l/n,” he said politely as he stood up from the table and walked out of the room. You watched him go, unsure of what his sudden change in demeanour meant. 

  You sat in the interrogation room alone for a while after the agent left. You had no watch or clock to know how much time had really passed, but it was long enough for you to go through the numerous possibilities of what the agents could be doing, firstly assuming they had all your electronic devices in hopes of uncovering as much as they could from them. They wouldn't get anything. There was nothing of interest on your phone and your computer had so many firewalls, encryptions and general locks that you knew they wouldn't be able to access, because if they did they would use the techniques themselves. 

  You were willing to tell them all about the things you had found in the months prior, but you weren't about to unlock your computer for them. 

  The door opened again and you expected to be met with the same agent as before. “Hi again,” you greeted the Russian as she strolled into the room. 

  “Can I get you a drink?” She asked with a small smirk as she stood next to the chair. You smiled at her and shook your head. “So Dmitriev, huh?” Natasha started. 

  “The one in the safe house,” you nodded. 

  “I thought you didn’t read the reports,” the Russian stated, hoping to catch you out.

  “Well that was the first one so naturally I was-”

  “Curious.” You shrugged. 

  “Tell me who was next.” You did. You gave Natasha the complete list of everything you had searched for, remembering it all clearly because you spent hours thinking about each one after they occurred. The Russian didn’t question your memory. You told her about each search and about the signal blocking and virus. You told her about everything Rae had told you to do, never once mentioning her name. 

  “You know, once we start investigating this we’ll be able to figure out who was asking for it,” Natasha stated. You didn’t believe that.

  “Maybe,” you said. The spy knew you didn’t buy it. 

  “If you give me a name now it could bring your jail time down.” That you knew to be true, but that didn’t mean it was worth it. You didn’t respond to that though Natasha could see that it didn’t make a difference. “Why are you protecting them? They’re not going to do you any favours.” The redhead examined you carefully. 

  “I’ve told you everything I can, I’m ready to go now,” you announced without looking at Natasha. She watched you for a moment longer before moving her chair out to stand up and walked slowly towards the door, pausing before she opened it. 

  “That trace you left, the one that made us find you, that was deliberate, right?” You didn’t say anything, but the smile that flashed across the corner of your lips was all the answer Natasha needed. “You’re good, maybe if we had someone like you here we wouldn’t have these problems.” It was only once Nataha said it out loud that she realised how much sense it made. She glanced back at you once more before leaving, making her way directly to the top floor.

  “You should hire her - l/n,” Natasha said as she marched into Fury’s office. He looked up at her with a concentrated frown.

  “The hacker?” He asked as he leant against his desk.

  “Clearly our security needs improving and if she can see all its flaws then maybe we should ask her to fix them,” Natasha explained as though it was obvious. Yes, she knew that it wasn’t a decision to be made lightly, but that didn’t change the fact that it made a lot of sense. 

  “And give her full range to look at more confidential files?” Fury was right, it could be a smart move or a catastrophic one and ever the pessimist, he went for the latter. 

  “She wasn’t doing that for herself, though.”

  “What if she was? What if she’s lying so that this could happen?” It was a valid point, just not one that Natasha could see when she talked to you. 

  “She’s not lying, Fury,” the redhead insisted. The chances of you lying without the spy picking up on it were a thousand to nothing.

  “You can’t know for sure,” he countered. 

  “Neither could you,” Natasha was quick to point out. Fury regarded that for a moment as he sighed. He had made a lot more enemies since he had taken the young assassin in, as had she. 

  “If she gives us a name, she gets a job, but she’ll be your responsibility, Romanoff.” 

  “Understood, sir,” Natasha nodded. Fury watched her leave, given some hope by the spy’s confidence in you but remaining cautious overall. 

  Natasha wasted no time in returning to the interrogation room where you were still sitting patiently. You didn’t seem surprised when she walked through the doorway that time, nor that she was back so soon. 

  “We haven’t been able to access anything on your computer yet but we’ve found some things on your phone I thought we could talk about.” You stared back at Natasha blankly. There was nothing incriminating on your phone. “Why are you still living with your ex?” 

  “What?” You frowned at the Russian, not understanding what she was getting at.

  “Your flatmate. I saw from old photos and texts that you guys used to date,” Natasha explained simply, staring back at you. You couldn’t tell if the question was genuine or if she was just trying to get a rise out of you. 

  “We still do?” You answered though even you could hear it sounded more like a question. “What’s that got to do with anything anyway?” 

  “Did she know about your technical skills?” You didn’t answer, trying to think of the right thing to say. That was all Natasha needed. “Did she ask you for those files?” Natasha pushed. 

  “No,” you were quick to answer. Too quick. 

  “Really? Because we did a little background check on her and it doesn’t look great within the context.” It occurred to you right away that Natasha was bluffing but you had no way of knowing for sure. You didn’t even know if Rae had a criminal record, she had never mentioned it and you had never thought to ask. Similarly, you knew that she was involved in some dodgy stuff with questionable people and maybe it was naive to think that there was no trace of that.   “I think she did ask for those files and you gave them because you’re a nice girlfriend. But maybe she’s not so nice and I think that you know that and that’s why you left that trace.” When you didn’t respond, Natasha leant forwards to that it was harder to ignore her. “I think you’re trying to make up for it and I can assure you the best way to do that is to help us. You can do that if you just say her name.” She was right. You knew she was. It was a hard truth that you just had to swallow even if it would hurt. You took a shaky breath, and uttered her name.