#wipe them from the face of the earth with no consequences

[greencarnation]

balls to the walls crazy that congress members can publicly call to have gaza flattened but as soon as they say hey you guys maybe palestinians are people too they get censured

[lucidfairies]

pretty girl [a.a]

pairing: experienced!Abby x inexperienced!reader // Owens sister!reader x bbf!Abby

synopsis: Abby was irritatingly beautiful, nobody could deny that. But one night, everything changed between the two of you.

warnings: mdni 18+, religion mentioned, dom!abby, sub!reader, poc friendly, oral sex [r], fingerfucking [r], praise, slight size kink, corruption if you squint

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is short and really not good but that's okay cuz I have more coming out soon! also no more virgin reader because it kinda made me wanna shoot myself

Out of all of the friends your brother, Owen, had over the years, Abby Anderson was definitely your favorite. Aside from the fact that she was built like and had the face of an actual god on earth, she was so sweet to you all the time. Always acting like, well, a sister. The feeling had never been mutual, though. You didn’t want her to see you as her best friend’s cute younger sister, you wanted her to see you as her best friend’s undeniably sexy younger sister.

You never really knew when this crush became, but Abby had been in your life for so long that it didn’t matter. All you knew was that every time you looked at her, your stomach flipped and warmth spread between your legs. Because, god, those eyes. Always looked like they were picking you apart, one inch at a time.

She’s the exact reason you were tossing and turning in your bed, trying to get her out of your head. Your body reacted differently to her lately, every accidental touch was like a punch to the gut, and at night, every time she crossed your mind, your clit throbbed, a feeling you weren’t used to.

It’s not like you never found people attractive, it’s just… she was different. You needed her in a different way, in a very unholy way. One your brother would absolutely not be okay with. You tried to tell yourself that that’s why you wanted her - just to get to Owen. But that didn’t work.

You sat up in your bed, wiping the sleep out of your eyes and forcing your legs together to end the throbbing. You were so fucking wet. Looking in the mirror at the end of your bed, you huffed and got up, brushing your hair out and changing into a smaller, hotter pajama set. Before you could register any consequences to what you were about to do, you grabbed your keys and left the house.

You knew where Abby’s house was. You’d been there a handful of times over the course of the years, normally to pick up Owen when he was high. Suddenly, you were pulling up and parking at the curb and getting out of the car, slamming the door on the way out. Standing at the door, you banged harshly, hoping she miraculously wouldn’t be home.

“Okay, Jesus, give me a sec- y/n?” Your stomach dropped. The reality of what you were doing hit you like a truck, and you suddenly second guessed everything, ready to turn around and run away. “What’re you doing here this late, sweetheart?” You sighed, digging your palms into your eyes and rubbing them.

“I need your help, Abby.” You looked up at her, unwilling to elaborate until she let you in. And she did. She opened the door further, allowing you to step in, then shut it behind you. “There’s this… feeling in my stomach that won’t go away. It’s like heat. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Abby wanted to pretend like she didn’t know what you were talking about. Wanted to pretend that she was thinking about the fact that you were literally horny and came to her for help, not to mention the little pajamas that you had on, that hugged you tight and hardly covered anything. She could tell you that Owen would hate her if she helped you the way you needed, and it was just unethical, but.

But.

That would be like telling you she hasn’t been in love with you for seven years, telling you that she didn’t want you, telling you that she hasn’t thought about this every night practically since she met you. And she surely didn’t want you thinking any of that.

Abby sighed. “Is that all it is? Heat?” She took a step closer to you, making you catch your breath.

“No,” you paused, taking a step forward as well, so that your chests were almost pressed against each other. “It’s this wet feeling. And this throbbing.” Abby could’ve come in her boxers, right then and there, if she wasn’t trying to focus on you.

“Where?” Your face was burning. She placed her large hand on your stomach, head dropping to the crook of your neck. “Here?” she ran her thumb over the skin. You shook your head, placing your hands on her shoulders. Her hand cupped your cunt, heel of her palm pressing up ever so slightly, just to press into your clit. You pushed up on your toes, trying to get away from the overwhelming sensation, but it was unrelenting. “Here, baby?” You nodded quickly. “Words.”

You moaned at her harsh change of tone. “Yes Abby,” she left an open mouthed kiss on your neck, pulling her hand away from your pussy. “I don’t know what to do about it.” The way you looked at her made her want to kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. Big doe eyes, unknowing but curious. You were so innocent, and it turned Abby on more than it should’ve. All she could think about was your pretty, big lips wrapped around her strap, taking it deep in your throat.

“Oh honey,” Abby sighed again. She didn’t want it to seem like she didn’t want this, want you, but she didn’t know how to go about it. “Have you never touched yourself?” Your brows scrunched.

“No. But that’s not what- oh!” Abby couldn’t take it, she picked you up and threw you over her shoulder, walking down the hallway and going into her bedroom. She shut the door and sat you down on her bed. “Abs.. I’ve wanted this for a while.”

“Wanted what, baby? I thought you didn’t know what you were doing.” She was on her knees in front of you, hands on your waist as she looked up at you.

“I..” you groaned, running your hands over your face in embarrassment. “I want to have sex with you. That’s why I came here, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Abby knew that. But she didn’t stop you from telling her. It sounded so nice coming out of your lips. “Owen can’t know, if we do.”

“I never said we were doing anything, darlin.” Remaining on her knees, she pressed against you and caught your lips in a kiss. Her hands were on your thighs, wrapping them around her waist, while she kissed you so hard you lost your breath. It was all tongue and teeth, nothing sweet about it. “What do you think about when you think about me, baby?”

Your brain was in a haze as you tried to formulate words. “You-your arms. And h-how your voice sounds, and how you look at me w-whenever we make eye contact.” She hooked her fingers under your shorts and pulled them down, then tossed them and shifted the two of you so that you were laying against her pillows and she was overtop of you.

When Abby caught a glimpse of the gold cross around your neck, she almost stopped. But the thought of corrupting you, turning you against the things you believe in just for her... extremely attractive.

"The heat between your legs is because you're horny, baby. Don't they teach you that at your pretty prep school?" You shook your head quickly, mind fuzzy as she kneaded your tits overtop your pajama shirt. She grabbed your hardened nipple and ran her thumb over it, making you shiver.

"Too much, Abby. Too much." You whined, pushing away from her hand.

"Is it really too much, sweet girl?" She twisted your nipple and pulled it, making you whimper and arch slightly off the bed. You couldn't tell whether you liked it or disliked it, but the way she was doing it felt extremely different from the way you briefly experimented with yourself here and there.

She knew what she was doing, and it made you want to moan and ride her fingers like you'd heard Owen talking about with her. You had listened to the vulgar stories she would tell your brother of her hookups, talking about what she did and how she did it.

You pushed up, sitting against the headboard as you pulled your pajama shirt up and over your head. Abby couldn't tear her eyes away from your tits. In seconds, her lips were latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, her hand flicking the other. Your back was arching into her mouth, moaning quietly.

"You're so pretty, my love." She mumbled into the skin of your sternum as she made a path of open-mouthed kisses towards your pajama shorts. Your skin was burning, and you were tingling at the thought of her teaching you what to do and how to do it.

She slipped your shorts off your legs and tossed them somewhere, gently running her thumb down your center. You shivered and whined, lacing one of your hands in her hair. "Abby," your head lolled back when she finally pulled your underwear down, kissing your clit gently. "Abs be gentle."

"Don't worry pretty girl, I'll go easy on you this time." Your stomach flipped at 'this time'. Would there be more times?

She licked a fat strip up your cunt and your hips bucked into her face, encouraging her. The sensation was brand new, and so much different than anything you'd ever done or felt. So much better.

Her tongue circled your clit, tracing shapes and letters, spelling her name against you. "Oh God, Abby," you moaned, the feeling of her hot breath and wet tongue creating the best mixture on your clit. The harsh middle ground where hot and cold met, where her thumb ran down your folds, was the greatest. You decided it was a good thing you waited, but you could definitely get used to this.

Moments later, Abby's middle finger was slowly pushing into your entrance, and she was groaning into your clit. She pulled away from your clit, watching her finger sink into you as she pressed kisses into your stomach and thighs. "So fucking tight, baby," her other hand rubbed your thigh, "need you to relax, angel."

A whine was ripped from your throat at the unfamiliar pressure. Your hips moved, trying to find some way to make it more comfortable. Abby was praising you, leaving quiet chants against your skin reminding you to breathe. You took a deep breath and released it, allowing your lower half to become less tense.

She began to thrust her finger slowly, curling it towards the sensitive bundle of nerves within you and grunting at the way you squirmed and cried out her name, begging her to do it again.

When you were ready, she added another finger, letting you adjust to both of her digits before reattaching her lips to your clit. Her right hand had found its way back to your tits, pulling at your nipple.

Your stomach became wound up, almost like a cramp in need of release. You knew it meant you were going to cum, but you never had before. "Abby- m'gonna, oh, Abby," a gush of warmth flooded between your legs, stronger and much better feeling than when you got wet.

Your legs were shaking and your hips were twitching, head thrown back and she worked you through it. Abby on the other hand, was wide-eyed and blushing as she watched you come around her fingers. She hooked up with girls regularly before now, but she had never been with someone like you.

She retracted her fingers and licked them clean. You were panting, forearm thrown over your eyes so that you wouldn't have to meet hers. "You did so well, my love." She had her hands pressed into your hips as she kissed your neck, waiting for you to come out and talk to her.

She was painting your skin in soft kisses when you finally brought your arm away from your face, cupping her face with both of your hands. "That was nice," you both grinned, which turned into laughter. It felt so good to laugh with her without worrying about Owen.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" She asked once the laughter had subsided, turning things to a slightly more serious note. "I wanted you to be comfortable."

"You didn't hurt me, Abby. I'm glad I waited for you." She was kissing you then, smiling into your mouth as your teeth clashed and nicked at each other's lips. "Can I stay here tonight?" Abby rolled over next to you and took your hand as hers before looking towards you.

"You can stay here forever." She whispered quietly, kissing the back of your hand.

[batterygarden]

blessed (satoru x fem & afab! reader)

contents: breeding cursed technique fic, dead dove do not eat! (reader's technique is basically for conceiving strong babies), arranged marriage, stockholm syndrome, he's your second cousin so incest, explicit nasty smut & breeding, mild daddy and mommy kink, pregnancy, misogynistic society, crybaby reader, satoru is sweet ultimately, ominous but happy ending, weird montage of sex scenes + the past + the present, 3.8 k words

18+ pls MDNI!

Divine fertility.

It’s gross—somewhere inside your brain (in a locked filing cabinet, underneath a false drawer and written in invisible ink), you’re conscious of the fact that it’s gross.

Your technique, its consequences, your life; everything you’ve been born unto is filth cloaked in blessings, but, on principle, you don’t allow yourself to look at things objectively. Disgust would only make things miserable and you’re designed to be happy. 

Blessed with a cursed technique to conceive, you’ve always had a role and it’s never been disputable—one of producing heirs. Your life was planned from the moment you were born, a whole future tied in a neat little bow—you’re lucky. That’s what everyone’s always promised. 

You’ve been told how happy you are so much that the words have seeped into your skull—you’ve long since found peace with Divine Fertility and what it means. 

More than that.

You want to be bred so badly it aches. 

You can’t go huge lengths of time untouched. You grow volatile when you’re empty too long, a weakness that chains you to your betrothed’s bed. But you’re most useful that way anyways. Hormonal and needy, but certain to pass your partner’s techniques—actually you’re more than useful as a clan member, you’re honored. Enough to marry the strongest man alive—your second cousin in your own clan. 

Whether you’ve always known it or not, you’ve always lived for Gojo Satoru. 

“Do not come in Ijichi—fuck! Not…not right now.” 

Gojo stands a foot away from his bed when he says this, clothes half on while you kneel at his feet, sucking him absolutely dry. That’s as far as he was able to get this morning before you were trying to lure him back to you, looking up at him with giant, glassy eyes while you tugged the waistband of his boxers. He wasn’t about to turn you down. 

“Ngh your mouth feels so perfect. Wanna fuck it…” 

You pull back with a gasp, catching air wherever you can get it with your fiancé’s suffocating girth, nodding while you pump him in your hands. Your lips are spread for him then so he can thrust through them himself, staring down at your teary eyes while he sets a rhythm down your throat. 

You’re quickly gagging, he’s thick but also long and he’ll choke you if you’re not careful. But the relief he brings is worth it. Your craving for him didn't let up this morning even after a creampie and some cockwarming—this is just what you needed. 

He throws his head back when he’s getting close, fingers gripping at your hair but careful not to tug, and he does this cute little whine that has your pussy throbbing. So you touch yourself, too—some fingers to your clit in little circles have you toppling over the edge just in time to match your fiancé, swallowing his milky cum while his last batch leaks down your thighs, mixed with your own release. 

He’s panting when you pull away, eyes open but unfocused while the fog in his brain clears, his hand stroking your head absentmindedly. When he finally comes back to earth, he finds you’ve pulled his boxers up for him but remain clinging to his leg, squishing a cheek against his hip while fingers trace his inner thigh. 

He breathes out a little hooo.

“Did so good for me, pretty. Okay. Now I really gotta go.” 

He tries to take a step but you don’t budge, so he bends to see you better, making an expression of dumbfounded horror when he sees you’re crying. 

“Hey, hey—I’ll be back! What’s with the tears!” 

You sniffle while his big hands wipe at your face, frantic as he tries to make you better. Ijichi’s pacing footsteps are heard outside the door. 

“I don’t know, it just feels so—sniff—bad when you leave sometimes! I still want more of you!” 

Gojo frowns at that, rubbing your head some more. There’s a knock at the door which he ignores. 

“Baby… I want more of you too, but you know I gotta go. No days off when you’re the strongest. Can you be my tough girl, just a few hours?” 

You nod, your breaths calming. What is getting into you? Apparently your separation anxiety can’t even let your fiancé go to work without a break down. It takes you a minute to connect the dots and realize you’re likely ovulating—your hormones can make you a little crazy sometimes. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“My pretty baby wants to be a mommy so bad, huh?” 

“I do! I really do, Satoru!” Your voice is a sob. Satoru has been going at it since the moment he came home today—told the maids to leave him alone, locked his door and folded you into the mattress.

“Gonna make me a daddy?” You clench automatically—just like Satoru knew you would. 

“Ye—ah! Wanna have your babies, need to give you babies so bad, daddy!” 

Your neck is craned as far back into the pillows as it can go, your entire body curling in ecstasy from your cousin’s heavy thrusting. Your words have his movements turning frantic, your legs folded up by his shoulders so your silver anklet with his name on it can jingle by his ear. Satoru lifts you then, utilizing his ridiculous strength and huge hands to pull your hips higher where his cock can split you easier.  He starts hitting so deep you see stars. 

Your head tends to scramble and slow when he fucks you like this, eyes barely open, blindly clinging to the man you were born to cling to while he makes a home for himself near your womb. It’s hard to focus on him like you want to, but if you did you’d see eyes drunk on lust and power…

Satoru Gojo can be a greedy man. Spoiled, too—He usually already owns what he covets and never waits long for things he doesn’t. But even the world at his fingertips, you at his fingertips, doesn’t fully sait that want like most would expect. For example, as much as Satoru owns you, he doesn’t feel he really has you until your body’s fucked out of commission in his grip, eyes blank and stupid while your cunt spasms around him, milking his cock for everything he has. 

This is when he’s got you, he thinks. This is when you’re his, like putty in his fingers, warmed up and malleable. This is when everything’s how it’s really supposed to be. 

The two of you don’t come out of satoru’s room the entire rest of the night, except when Satoru darts his hands out of his doorway to grab trays of food the servants dropped by. It’s exhausting the way you’re used, body split and bent and bruised so that satoru’s seed can take root, but it’s also addicting. You beg for more of him, latch any remaining strength onto his limbs while you cry out his name. Satoru’s cock is addictive in a natural way—stronger than any drugs. Your betrothed’s cock is addicting like food and water and air… sometimes it’s the only thing that makes you feel alive. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Today marks the day you’re officially seven months pregnant. 

Despite the fact that your technique has you strong and glowing (this is what you were made for, everyone continues to insist), you spend much of your time in mild discomfort. You get the feeling satoru’s passed his ridiculously long legs to his baby, who’s adamant in kicking you constantly, plus your lower back is often sore.

Still, you go about your daily life as normal—lounging, eating, making infinite baby preparations and, of course, waiting for satoru to come home so he can fuck you. 

Lately your husband is the ultimate harbinger of gifts and treats—your pregnancy has been the opposite of helpful towards satoru’s impulse spending habits, not that it’s too great a concern with the family’s bottomless wealth. He rarely comes home empty handed. Today, he’s brought a teensy yellow beanie he apparently stumbled upon at a shop and some artisan ikigai strawberries—a favorite of yours amidst pregnancy cravings—satoru’s encouraging his child’s expensive taste that’s for sure. 

You’re currently spooning in bed to enjoy them, watching a cheesy hallmark movie while satoru feeds you bites—he’s focusing much more on you than the movie. 

Honestly, he doesn’t seem to focus on much else when he’s home at all… he finds pregnant you to be more than captivating. It’s like he could watch you day and night, doing the most mundane tasks to nothing at all—in his own words he’s fascinated by how precious you manage to be. Eyes following you like you’re the most engrossing little thing, cooing to himself when you’re particularly cute. It reminds you of how you used to treat your pet cat growing up. 

You’ve gotten used to the excessive attention and coddling—it’s not like you’d ever mind a little clinging, nor was satoru’s babying completely foreign in the first place. So you let him feed you without comment, enjoy his hands wandering over your belly and curves without fanfare. 

This process quickly gets messy though; red juice keeps dripping from the corner of your mouth towards your pillow only to be saved in the nick of time by satoru’s quick fingers, reaching around to wipe at your cheek again and again, having you lick his fingers clean for him each time he does. Things get even messier once he gets the bright idea to split each berry, biting before offering you the other half. 

“I like sharing with you, this way neither of us miss the best ones.” He says with his mouth partially full, reaching down to pop part of a berry into your mouth. You hum, mostly engrossed in your film, managing not to drool this time. 

But the next bite of berry he performs directly over your neck, dripping juice directly onto your skin when he does.

“Hey!” You start to turn but he holds you in place on your side, darting down to lick up the spill with his tongue. 

You whine when he does, sensitive skin set ablaze by your lover’s mouth. 

The movie is forgotten when things easily pick up from there—things easily pick up between the two of you, period. It’s not even your first time having sex today, you took his cock first thing in the morning after a particularly needy grinding display. 

But this time it’s extra slow, extra attentive—like Gojo’s savoring you to the fullest extent. The berries are an added component, dripping sweet juice on your skin once gojo fully undresses you, only for him to lick and suck and kiss you clean. Your pussy has his attention then for what feels like eternity, your husband’s soft lips kissing and kissing and kissing like he needs to clean your juices there too. You cum so easily—you always have, but pregnant and sensitive like this your rate is almost ridiculous. Satoru, adoring as he’s been lately, doesn’t even tease, just savors. Dotes and flexes his cuteness aggression through his careful arms. He’s cautious with that—his urge to squeeze you—thinks he ought to get a medal for the self control he has to be soft. He caresses and pets like you’re a newborn yourself, fucking you just as thoughtfully. 

You’d only been alive ten short months the day the earth shifted upon Satoru’s birth. Of course you don’t remember it, but you know intimately well the way your own path was no exception to his influence. You were already confirmed to have a fertility technique, almost as rare as the six eyes themselves, when the strongest sorcerer of your time was born—the match up was obvious. You were groomed for it until his parents said yes, and then only more intensely once they did.

And as much as you love Satoru, as much as you’d live for him and die for him and anything in between—it was sometimes hard. You had to grow to love him, to accept his power over you. 

Because among the list of cons to a lifetime betrothal—a lifetime of devotion in your case—was that Satoru always knew you were his. You had an owner at the ripe age of seven, aged six and a half. 

And, unbelievable as it may be in hindsight, at times he was a tyrant. 

Tugging and clinging and pushing—at first he had as much respect for you as a child might for a cheap toy (the kind their well-off parents taught them were replaceable). 

And there wasn’t much you could do about it besides grieve and sulk—your parents didn’t let you talk back how you wanted, and Satoru wasn’t above tattling. 

You didn’t dare wish for a different husband—what with how lucky everyone insisted you were, but at times you’d wonder. What would it be like to be assigned someone polite and thoughtful, like satoru’s friend he brought around the estate from time to time…

Suguru never really got to know you enough to form an opinion on your character. It was rare he visited the extravagant Gojo estate in the first place, and when he did, Satoru often gave the impression that he wanted to keep you private. It was clear you were a permanent fixture on those grounds—just another layer to Satoru’s mystifying lifestyle. You were a complete contrast to Suguru’s friend, all reserved and polite; the only thing you really inspired Geto to feel was pity. 

Gojo was a little shit as a kid—still is in many ways—and sometimes even Geto himself couldn’t stand him. But Suguru’s always had a backbone. There was a reason he was capable of maintaining best friend status with the strongest sorcerer alive while others couldn’t (or wouldn’t) get close—and it’s that Geto knew how to tell Satoru off. He could see through Gojo’s dramatics and put him in his place—something you clearly had not mastered.

Geto saw your lenience first hand the first day Satoru tried to have the three of you hangout, watching in fascination as you protested, gave in, and then were immediately reprimanded for sneaking into a forbidden wing of the Gojo estate. Satoru got a mild scolding, a barely-there stern edge to the maid’s voice who caught the three of you—telling him that he knew better and that he had to think about his future wife’s safety as well as his own. You got a cold glare when the maid set sights on you, a tug of your wrist to your room where it was clear you’d go on to get a firm lesson on obedience. 

Once you were gone, Suguru spoke to Satoru in a hushed tone. “I feel kinda bad your girlfriend’s getting locked up now. Aren’t you gonna do something?” 

“She’s not my girlfriend, asshole!”

“You’re getting married someday. Same thing.” 

“It’s totally different. But whatever, yeah, I feel a little bad too. Probably I’ll break her out of her room later,” Geto watched Gojo absentmindedly pick a fuzz off his shirt—not a care in the world before he perked up to add, “Right now let’s play tekken.” 

And they did, but soon Geto brought you up again. This was the first time he’d met you, and really begun conceptualizing the situation Gojo was in—he couldn’t imagine being tied to someone like that at his ripe and girlfriend-less age of thirteen. The idea fascinated him.

“What’s it like, living with ___?”

“It’s fine,” Satoru sighed, going back and forth between different characters to try. “She’s annoying—got some needy physical touch technique so she’s always clinging to me in my sleep, it’s honestly creepy. But it’s fine.” 

This took Geto moment to process… 

“You sleep in the same bed?!” He put his controller down at that point, fully engrossed. 

“Yeah, ‘cause of her technique she’s like, unable to sleep alone basically. It’s weird. But other than that she’s fine I guess—a little slow. Her parents won’t even put her in school.” 

Suguru could think of so many questions he didn’t even know where to start. 

But what stood out most was how Satoru remained calm about the whole thing, at peace even. 

“Have you tried fighting it? Didn’t you say your mom does whatever you want? Tell her no.” 

Satoru waved a lazy hand at Suguru before he even finished talking.

“That wouldn’t work, ___ would just get betrothed to someone else, then. Her parents really want that for her. ‘Sides, she’s mine, Y’know? Even if she’s a weirdo it’s not like I’d give her away.”

It’s been years now since Suguru Geto has seen you last—he hasn’t been back to the Gojo estate since before his enrollment in jujutsu tech. He’s changed a lot since his starry-eyed youth, and he vaguely wonders what it will be like to see you again, if you’ve changed as well; over the years he’s found that his friend prefers to bring you up as little as possible, so he hasn’t had many updates. Though his primary focus is on the man he’s escorting, a dizzy and bleeding Gojo Satoru who managed to get hit by a scorpion curse while they were messing around on their mission. Gojo insisted on heading home after, despite shoko’s offer to provide more thorough reversed technique than his own, frowning but easily relenting when Suguru insisted on at least helping him get there. 

It’s late, not even staff around to notice as Suguru tugs Gojo along, supporting half the man’s weight through the threshold and fumbling to find light switches as he enters new rooms. But then you emerge, and Suguru can’t pick his jaw up off the ground when you do, this heavily pregnant girl in a frilly nightgown and bare feet, storming in with tears absolutely pouring down her face. After one heartfelt “Satoru!” you can’t manage to get out a single sentence you’re crying so hard, and Suguru watches the most mystifying thing: Satoru comforts you. His unserious asshole of a best friend (he thinks with fondness in his heart), a man who’s long since lost the will to show vulnerability in even the most gut-wrenching moments—Suguru watches as he meets you with this sympathetic, earnest frown on his face, crouching to let you hold him and mumbling little sorry’s. 

Suguru isn’t sure what they’re for, but he does know that Satoru has never seriously apologized to him for anything in his life. He’s expressed regret, learned from some mistakes, sure. But the word sorry, as far as Suguru knew, wasn’t in Gojo’s vocabulary. 

He says it a lot now, with this cooing voice that Suguru also finds foreign. He learns through some mumbled words you manage that your tears are from worry, that gojo promised he’d be home earlier and that he wasn’t answering his phone. Then your wails turn fresh when you notice gojo is bleeding. 

“Baby this is literally nothing—“ Geto, who saw Gojo’s initial wound and can actually see the man swaying on his feet, almost chuckles. He saves it with a cough. 

“—I basically already healed myself. You know nothing could ever happen to me.” 

This makes you mad, Suguru can practically feel how your anger tinges the air. 

“Satoru Gojo I do not know that and—hic—you’d do better to answer your phone next time!”

“Ahh yes ma’am, yes ma’am.”

That secret filing cabinet in your mind rattles from time to time when you reach your ninth month pregnant. You’ve somehow managed to stave off any ill second thoughts towards your fate till now, letting it hit you last minute like something you’ve been putting off. It’s not that you’re unready for motherhood—you’ve reached acceptance of what’s to come—but you’ve developed a slight fear of your own personal eternity being reached. Slight because you’re excellent at burying and vaulting—slight because you love satoru and your baby so deeply. 

But around your nine month marker, sore and barely even able to fuck properly, your husband makes an off-handed remark. You’d just taken him on all fours, cumming so easily despite satoru’s unusually tame treatment, and were laying in the aftershocks with sticky thighs while satoru fetched you a warm washcloth. The bath water was also running loudly, so he had to speak up while he said, “I’m gonna look to see how soon an in-ground pool could be installed, bet it’d be good for your poor hips next time you’re pregnant.” He speaks while he opens up your legs, casually wiping your shared mess clean with a soft damp towel, like he has a million times. 

Maybe you’re tired, maybe it’s his casual tone paired with such a ludicrous sentence, but the idea of buying  a pool because of what should be temporary pregnancy ailments and the implication that you’ll have them again and again… it sends you in a spiral. 

It’s not unusual for you to burst into tears with your wacky hormones—satoru’s seen your puffy crying face, especially while pregnant, more times than he could count. So he isn’t particularly alarmed when he sees the silent drops rolling down your cheeks when he returns from the laundry shoot a moment later. But he is concerned, crawling up the bed till he’s hovering to kiss your shoulder, scooting behind you to spoon your lightly shaking frame. 

He doesn’t talk for a moment, trying to decide the best course of action. He’s familiar with the tears, sure, but he knows he’s not an expert on them, sometimes he tries to talk to them when he shouldn’t and vice versa. 

Eventually he settles on a little “I got you,” for comfort, his warm hands rubbing over your arms then your belly in what he hopes is a soothing rhythm. 

You think about telling him your issues, your deepest secrets, but you deliberate too long. Soon he’s kissing you again, pressing lips in a slow trail up your shoulder and neck before switching directions. 

“I love you,” he adds. 

You won’t tell him. You love him, too. The uck and grime of it all gets buried once again, shoved in the section of your head that stays locked up with high security. You turn around and, instead of answering, capture his lips in a salty kiss, the kind that starts out soft and clumsy—sweet. It doesn’t take long for your lips to get needy though, for the sweetness to be replaced with aching. The kind that always spreads between your thighs. 

Thanks for reading eeeek! feedback and rbs appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[bi-writes]

it took the end of the world to bring you to where you were supposed to be. (18+, 5.5k words) ghost (+ johnny) x fem!reader (apocalypse au -> dark content ahead)

you know it is luck that you are still alive. in times of anarchy, it isn't the soft and weak hearts that remain. only the unfeeling stay alive. the ones that are willing to do what others are not. the lot that know what isolation feels like. the ones familiar with survival and everything that comes with the wounds it leaves behind.

the loneliness. the paranoia. the heat of hunger and the impossible itch of thirst, on top of the fact that running for your life is second nature to you now.

if it wasn't the sick and dead lurking in the shadows, it was the live ones that would take you. and you have seen what they can do, and you have watched what the opportunities of the unbecoming have given them, and you vow that you will kill yourself with your own dull army knife than let yourself succumb to that kind of death.

you'd rather be eaten alive by the things that don't understand than the ones that do, because they don't know any better, and the others do, and they know what they are doing isn't human, but they don't care.

whether they eat for survival, for pleasure, for power, it is becoming more and more difficult to discern between the sick and the healthy, and in that in-between, you've decided to be on your own.

you know the loneliness will eat at you from the inside. but you are comforted by the fact that you are not being eaten from the outside.

you sleep in the trees tonight. you climb, high enough to be out of sight, and then you use the rope in your pack to anchor yourself to the trunk. as soon as your head falls back, you fall asleep. you have been walking for days now, you think, and with nothing in your belly except for a few scavenged snacks, sleep comes easy.

when you wake up in the morning, you feel the crisp edge of the sky against your face, and you know it will rain soon.

if there is a god above, they will wash you away with it. you hope, at least. you don't know if this is how you imagined noah's ark--the cleansing of the earth, a flood great enough to wipe it of what they deem ugly and unimaginable and irredeemable. and god must be a man, because only a man would unleash something like this that comes with consequences he never intended--the fact that it didn't fucking work. in his effort to eradicate the fucked up pieces of shit he supposedly created by his own hand, he unleashed them.

he set them free.

and like a man, instead of fixing his fucking mistakes, he turns a blind eye. he forgets. he allows it to manifest, and now that it is out of control, he will blame the sins of what he's done on someone else, someone like you. the innocent. the unknowing. the small and the weak, the ones who he said would inherit the earth, where is he now that there is nothing to inherit? how come he's allowed to go back on his promises, and i'm not? what have i done so wrong that this is the lifetime you gave me?

you don't know why you care. you don't know why you've survived and why you keep trying to. you don't know what drives you forward, but there must be something. there has to be something waiting for you, because you don't think your life can fall any lower than this.

but fuck, there are other plans for you.

there's no one to hear you scream. they cut the branch, unravel the rope, and one of them has gotten ahold of your legs, and they're dragging you. you cry, you scream, you thrash, but all your clawing hands do is leave sporadic trails in the dirt. they laugh, you think, but you cannot hear them over the blood that rushes in your ears.

your nails are raw when they flip you over onto your back. they bleed from how you scratched to be let go, and you don't know why you fight this, but you just have this voice inside you that screams that this can't be how this ends. this can't be the way you go--this isn't the what you deserve, this isn't fair--

you vow to leave your mark. when they come closer, you don't let them come easy. you claw at their faces, rip out chunks of their hair, and when another comes close, you use your teeth, biting off chunks of their flesh, tasting blood, because i won't make it easy for you, i won't go silently, i'll leave you worse than you leave me, i'll take you with me if i fucking have to.

and when it stops, you sob. suddenly everything is still, and there are no hands on you anymore, and all you can see through the blood in your eyes is the sky above you, and how it is early morning, and there's a flock of birds passing by overhead. they fly peacefully. they have no idea what they're observing--the struggle of being alive, the humanity of your will to live, the defiance of dying at their hands, they have no idea that they are witnessing the death and rebirth of something fragile, something so delicate.

you sit up on your hands shakily, and you swallow hard as you look around. to your horror, your savior is a man.

bodies surround you. there's blood staining the dead leaves along the forest ground, trickling from sickening wounds in heads. in one hand, the man in front of you holds a dirty stone, large and jagged, and the sharp edge of it is darkened with red and drips on the tips of his boots. he has wild blue eyes, and while his hair is grown out, it is carefully cut along the sides. his dark hair falls in effortless curls along his forehead and at the base of his neck, and when he meets your eyes, he smiles, wickedly.

he wields other methods of killing people, but he chose a fucking rock. and you think he must be crazy.

you shake, and you find your balance, crawling back on your hands to get away from him, but you're only able to crawl a few feet before your back hits an imposing wall.

you gasp, jerking to the side, and you bow your head to cry when there is another man behind you. this one towers, broad and big, and he wears a sickening skull mask that shadows any human part of him. he might not even be human--maybe he's as dead as everyone else.

you hiss when your hair is pulled. crouching at your level now, the one that wears a real face stares down at you, still smiling. he's chuckling now, licking his lips, and you lean forward and spit at him. it lands on his cheek, a mess of saliva and blood, but his eyes seem to only sparkle. his smile widens.

"what do we have 'ere, LT?" he snickers, and you gather the saliva in your mouth and spit it at his feet this time. there's more of a mess of cartilage and blood and spit, but instead of disgusting him, he just grins up at the ghost behind you. "with a will ta live. ever seen anythin' like it?"

"she's dead fuckin' weight." even his voice has you shaking, low and gravelly, and you hold back a whine when you're let go of. the scottish one is yanked backwards by the scruff of his hair by his superior, who bends to growl in his ear. "she'll only hold us back. dunno why y'even had to intervene, she'll not make another fuckin' day."

"fuck you," you snap, wiping at your face with a trembling hand. you wipe at the tears under your eyes, coughing, and you stare back up at him. with the sun in his face, you can see his eyes. they are dark, and they are unforgiving.

he is one of the ones who is free. he is one of the ones that god intended to kill, and yet here he stands, stronger than ever. and even though you know he's a murderer, an undeserving, broken inside and scarred on the outside, he'll outlive you because he thrives in the anarchy of what is left behind, and you are consumed by it all.

"let's go, johnny," he spits, and you close your eyes. you don't know why you were spared your life. you don't know why luck has been on your side, you don't know why men are what punish you and save you, but you cannot escape them. they send you to slaughter, and then they pick you out of the pen, and you wish you had more control.

you want to be more than this. you want to be more than whatever it is you're made of. you are not meant to be here, you're not meant to be alive, but you are, and fuck, you're so tired of it.

johnny belongs to him. it's obvious, in the way that he lets that man pull on him and order him around, even if they are adorned in military fatigues. you imagine there is no authority anymore, but he listens to that beast anyway, because he's getting up onto his feet, letting it guide him away from you.

if you want to live, you'll have to tame that beast.

"i-i can be useful," you say softly. your eyes are wet and big, and you look up at them as they stand over you. johnny turns his head, looking at his handler, who tilts his head to the side and glares at you. he does not believe you, at least that's what it feels like, but you look right into his eyes and take a deep breath. "you'll just kill me if i'm not. w-what do you have to lose?"

the hum he lets out isn't an agreement, but he doesn't say no either. so when he turns to walk away, you stand, brush your bloodied jeans off, and you follow them. johnny trails, putting you between them. you're pretty, but he doesn't trust you yet, but you're also aware of the eyes you feel on you from behind. when you catch him staring at your ass, he doesn't pretend to look anywhere. he simply giggles.

they are a unit. they can speak without words. johnny tells you his handler's name is ghost. his lieutenant, a man of many talents, and you refrain from rolling your eyes at his sergeant's praise. but instead, you look up at him, and you smile, and you nod, and you give him those doe eyes that you can tell make him a little dizzy.

at night, they alternate keeping watch. they carry lots of gear, and while one guards in his sleep, the other stands in the shadows and keeps their head on a swivel. they take efficient rounds of sleep, getting their rest in while keeping their senses on alert. the first night, you aren't able to sleep. you are too afraid of johnny and how he smiles, because he's a dog, and you don't know when ghost will let go of his leash.

and you are too afraid of ghost, because he looks at you like he wants to kill you, and when he does, you'd like to look him in the eyes for it. you want him to know that you might not be strong like them, might not be the kind of survivors that they are, but you aren't a coward.

you aren't a man, and you'll die the way a woman should--with her fucking dignity.

the days pass easier. ghost hunts, and johnny cleans. ghost scavenges, and johnny kills. and when there is food, johnny feeds it to you, and you put on your best face, opening your mouth, letting him spoon you a mouthful of something that warms your belly. johnny eats your lies right up, but one look at ghost, and you know he sees right through you. with each lick of your finger, he snarls, and with each foot you step closer to johnny, he growls.

he doesn't believe you. you need to make him believe you.

you see your opportunity. it crawls towards him on soft hands, flesh spongy and quiet from the weeks of decay and rot. you see its mouth, black teeth sharp and ready to sink into the meat of his calf, and you lunge, pushing the vase off the table and watching the heavy clay fall until it squishes the head into a heap of rotten matter and dead meat.

ghost turns, looks down, and when he looks back up, he sees you gasping for breath, heaving. there's a desperation in your eyes. it trickles between panic and worry, and you don't know how it is you wear it so well, but it manifests into wet tears that gather at the corner of your eyes.

he's not a beast. he's just a man. and when he passes by you, he reaches up and grips your face hard, nearly shaking you, but it isn't like any other time he's touched you. he glares down at you, right into your eyes, and you melt, stepping just that much closer, sinking your nails into fabric of his tactical vest and gripping it tight.

i can be useful. it rings in his ears as he looks down at you, the burden he has been carrying with him, and suddenly he drags you that much closer, until your open mouth touches the front of his mask.

even your determined conscience can't stop your legs from squeezing together when you feel the warmth of his breath.

i can be useful. i can be useful. i can be useful.

you can be the thing that wakes what is dead inside of him. you can be the virus that infects his veins, the dagger straight through his heart, the heat of the sun, the thing that builds back up what he's buried so far down. johnny keeps him human, but you'll keep his blood pumping. johnny satisfies the itch of authority that ghost needs to keep, but you challenge the fire he keeps under his tongue, and fuck, those eyes.

you pretend with johnny. you play the damsel in distress. you fawn, let him coo over your soft eyes, keen at his touch, but it is a game you play, and he sees it, he sees it, but this time, it doesn't make him angry, and he likes it, and fuck, have you always been this pretty?

you swallow your smile. his grips tightens, and you know you have him.

he's yours. and he's going to keep you. the world ends, god doesn't answer your prayers, the salt of the earth runs free, but it doesn't have to be the end for you. you will learn the hymn of what makes monsters move, and you will sing that song until you can't sing anymore.

you will learn their language, and you will convince them of what you are not, and keep what you really are a secret.

the good, the easy, the soft, you'll keep it inside, because that isn't who lives at the end of the world--it's ghosts that remain, and this one belongs to you.

this one belongs to me, this one is mine, this one you can't fucking have.

and maybe it's selfish. maybe it's wrong to think this way, to take from your saviors this way, because that is what they did, they did save you, but this is the only way you can make sure you make it out of here, that you live. a man takes, and a woman gives, but wouldn't it be nice if it wasn't always this way?

because the dead are still moving now, and there isn't humanity in the living; this is what you are owed.

you think it will be difficult to pretend. when it is night again, and you are staring up at the blue of johnny's eyes, you think it will be difficult, but it isn't. despite what you know he doesn't have, even though you know there isn't anything good in him, he still smiles, and he's so pretty, and you let him kiss you.

it's easy because he's warm. his voice low, his breaths heavy, and it feels like love, and it isn't hard to imagine yourself somewhere else. in another place, meeting him in another time, falling in love with him because it is the only thing you really have to worry about. if you lived another life, you wonder if you still end up here.

you wonder if he would eat your cunt this way in that other place. like he'll never have it again. if he's just as aggressive, spreading your thighs, trapping himself between them, slurping at your folds until you are nothing but a wet, leaking mess underneath him. you wonder if he would groan the way he does, gripping you tight enough to bruise, taking his fill because everything that begins has to end, but maybe if i keep making her see fucking stars, she'll let me stay here forever--

johnny's so much easier to control when he's pussy drunk. anything you whisper in his ear, he just nods, licking into your mouth, mumbling incoherently. he'll say yes to anything you say, and when the gruff call of his name pulls him away from you, he struggles to leave. it isn't obvious, the power you have over him, not to him at least. but it's real, and because he watches you even as he goes, you know he'll do anything for you.

he'll do anything for me. he'll live for me. he'll kill for me. but will he do it even if ghost tells him not to?

because that is the only question that matters. if you and ghost stand on either side of him, who will he go to when his name is called?

if i call both of their names, will they come to me?

if he calls my name, will i come to him? am i just the same? do i wear the collar, am i the puppy, is it me that fell and not the men i hate so much? how do i tell the difference between what the fuck is real and what isn't?

you don't know what time it is. it's dark outside, it must be the middle of the night, but you can make out ghost's silhouette in the doorway. you've been holed up here for some days, and he takes turns with johnny covering the perimeter. your legs are tired, and so are they, and the bed in this house gives way to a comfort and peace that you haven't felt in a long time.

you tilt your head to the side as you watch him there. you sit up, your hair falling around you, and you watch the shadow of him shift in the hallway there.

"scared of the dark, ghost?" you ask softly, and the way he stills tells you he didn't realize you could see him. he steps into the room, and the candle that flickers in the corner deepens the shadows that dance along his masked face.

"nothin' scares me," he murmurs, and you find his eyes in the dark. it unnerves you every time you stare at one another--his gaze is always so intense. he always looks in between all the layers you hide, and it's hard to remember what you are doing here when he looks at you this way.

"i don't believe that," you counter, and he narrows his eyes, shuffling closer, and you tilt your head back to look up at him. "you're terrified."

"not of wot y'think," he pushes back, but you shake your head.

"don't lie, simon," you whisper, and at the sound of his name, he reaches for your face--cups the underside of your jaw, grips the base of your throat, bends down to growl against the skin of your cheek. "are you jealous? is that what it is?"

"of wot?" he mutters, and you hold your breath when he grips your neck firmly. "of m'pet 'n his little lamb?"

"yes."

"nothin' to be fuckin' jealous of," he laughs, but it holds no humor. "what's his is mine."

"says who?" you breathe, and he pulls back to look at you again. there it is--the thing in your eyes that he cannot escape. he doesn't know what it is, but there is something there, and he craves it. he wants it more than anything else--more than food, than water, than survival, he wants to have it, to own it, to command whatever it is there because it's what he thinks he deserves.

he saved your fucking life, and this is the price for it--he gets to have the thing that lives in you that makes his fucking head spin, and you will give it to him, so help him god.

you kiss soft. he hasn't taken his mask off in a long while, but you move it up easily and without resistance, and now you're kissing him, and he moves without thinking. he hasn't even let johnny this close--he hasn't let him underneath his skin, not this way, and here you are, sighing against the scars he wears and kissing them anyways.

the ugly and the irredeemable, that is the skin he wears, and you love it anyways, and the ringing he always hears is gone because you don't seem to care. you caress his face, and you tug on the front of his vest, and then he is with you, and--he doesn't know if this is real.

when you pull away to look at him, his eyes flutter open. you don't say anything as you climb into his lap. the look you share, you don't know how to explain it, but you are almost afraid that it is understanding.

because it's the end of the fucking world, and he isn't capable of love, and you are only here to survive, and yet there is something here that you can't explain. god isn't real, he's just a man, but you think for a moment that that man might be simon riley because what the fuck is happening to me?

"simon--"

he kisses you this time. hungry, all-consuming. if there is anything you've learned about him in the weeks you've spent beside him, it's that he does everything with purpose or not at all. he has a will, a will of what you don't know, but of something, and he does everything with his entire chest. you've heard him talk to johnny when they think you're asleep, the pillow talk that you aren't supposed to be privy to, and suddenly you wonder if this is what johnny feels like--like the only person left in the entire world. because to matter to someone like lieutenant simon riley means you must've done something right, because he doesn't care about anything, and he doesn't love anyone, and--fuck.

he fucks like it, too. he fucks like he won't live another day, and maybe he won't. he fucks like it's the last time he'll ever see you, and it could be, and maybe that's why you're crying. you're sweaty, naked under him, and he can't stop kissing you. he breathes you in and swallows your breaths like it's what keeps him alive, and maybe it does.

"simon--" you cry, because it feels good, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. your hand rises, slipping under the mask, and your nails scratch over his shaved head underneath. god, it feels sacrilegious to feel him this way, to know what's under it, but it doesn't matter.

"know wot y'r doin'," he hums, and you claw at his back when he slows down. your knees try to widen to accommodate the width of him, and he puts two big hands on your thighs and pushes, nestling himself deep and pressing himself right up against your pelvis. "know y'r playin' tricks on johnny, on me--" you cry, and he tsks, shaking his head, "'s pathetic, luv...thinkin' y'could fool us both."

"i-i--"

a particularly rough thrust shuts you up, and you arch your back, pebbled nipples hard against the warmth of his chest as he chuckles, laughing at you, so mean.

he leans down, and all you can do is whine as he mutters into your ear. "johnny's so fuckin' distracted by y'r cunny, swee'eart. and fuck, i get it, 's such a sweet pussy, luv--" you whimper, grinding up against him, needing him to move, but he puts both hands on your hips and squeezes, holding you still. "--such a nice cunt, make a bloke forget all his fuckin' troubles, but i know--"

you yelp when he reaches up and grabs your face. his palm cradles the lower half of your face, squeezing your jaw, and he squeezes your cheeks as he looks down at you and snarls.

"i know wot y'are. wot y'r here for."

"you--" you sob. "'m here for you--"

"can lie to johnny all y'like, luv, but don't you ever--" you whine as he shakes you gently, "--don't y'ever fuckin' lie to me. y'r usin' us. known since we found ya."

you let out an exhale, a deep one. you find his eyes, and he looks down at you, and you swallow hard. because it's true, in a lot of ways--you could never love them, right? this could never be a real thing. the only men that are left are god's mistakes. when man broke off his rib to make a woman, he didn't know a beast like this would come from him someday, did he?

did he know his sons would try to kill each other? in each and every generation? is he watching the dead roam the earth and wondering why those ones died and ones like this one are still living and breathing?

the thing that you don't understand yet is that nothing will kill ghost. his father couldn't kill him, the dark couldn't kill him, the earth he was buried in couldn't kill him, and every bullet that scarred him had missed the vulnerable places of him by just that much. the virus couldn't kill him, and he has an inkling that even if he was bitten, somehow, he would still live because that's his fucking fate.

his fate is to live, to endure, to grieve, no matter what happens around him. the world collapses, and he watches, and he picks up pieces as he goes hoping they will last, but he knows they won't.

he doesn't know how johnny will die, but he will. he doesn't know how you will die, but you will, and he'll be there to watch. for some reason, there's a little comfort, because at least this means they won't be alone. johnny wouldn't handle being alone well, and neither would you, because johnny is a mutt, and you are a leech, and neither survive without a keeper and a host, something else to keep them alive.

"'s olright," he licks over your bottom lip. "'m keepin' you, luv. but let's get one thing straight, aye?" you grunt when he turns you roughly under him, forcing your face into the mattress and caging you underneath him. you can't move much, all you really can do is sit up on your knees a little and push back against him, burying him deep inside you again as he presses his hips flush against your ass. he tangles his hand into your hair, pulling your head back, and he plants a chaste kiss against your throat. "y'r not above me, pet. you can order around m'mutt all y'like. bet he'll like that..." you hum when he cants your hips, the tip of his cock hitting a nice, warm place inside you, "but y'r gonna do as i say. and be a good girl."

you open your eyes, looking up at him over your shoulder. you plant your palms against the mattress and push back against him again, moving just enough to encourage a few slow, wet grinds.

"anything you want, simon," you whisper, pressing your face into his neck, and he grunts as his hand disappears underneath you to cup your mound, hissing as he feels the place where his cock is moving inside you. "can have whatever you want, please--" you whine in his ear. "i won't lie to you! i-i...i won't lie..."

with his other hand, he cups your breast, squeezing, his thumb circling your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"gonna be a good girl?" he asks. "gonna let johnny fuck ya? let my mutt have his fill?"

you nod, panting.

"are--" you sniffle. "--are you gonna take care of me?"

ghost laughs, as if it's a stupid question. he maneuvers you onto your knees, and as you start to push back against him more eagerly, you start to hear the jangle of the dog tags he wears. you want to turn around and pull on them, want to see his face when he comes, but you tell yourself that's for another time--that right now, you need to get him cumming and agreeable.

he leans over you, picking up the pace, punching his hips into your ass. the sound of your skin against his is wet and quick, and as you press your chest into the mattress, he starts hitting you so deep, the air feels tight in your chest.

"need to see you--!" you gasp, and when you're on your back again, you grab for his face. your knees spread again, welcoming him deep, and you force his eyes to stay on yours as you feel the rough grind of his hips starting to build up that sweet, soft feeling in you.

fuck--he's so big. every part of him, it swallows you, and this isn't any different. you come when you feel him, so much of it that it's leaking down your thighs because he stuffs you so full, and there's tears in your eyes, but he isn't sorry.

looking at him this way is jarring. you have really only ever seen his eyes incredibly dull, nothing in them except a void that you aren't able to understand. but you are using him, and he is using you, and you smile, because now you can read him, read what's reflected there.

when ghost shoves his cum-soaked fingers into your mouth, you don't fight it. you keen, arching your back as you let your tongue swirl around his thick fingers, and he tilts his head to the side as he watches you. he's making sure you're doing as he wants. he's making sure that you will be pliant and good, that you will do as you are told and nothing else because that is what he asks of you.

he's making sure that even though he knows you are not the submissive puppy you pretend to be, that you will be it anyways because if you don't, you won't like how he bites.

you and ghost are the same. you are equals, even if he will never admit it. you trade different parts of yourself, but this isn't about preservation, it's about survival, and you are willing to give yourself for it. you are willing to say yes, ghost, of course, whatever you want, because you aren't supposed to be alive anyways, but you might just have a chance if you hide in his shadow.

you're still on the bed when he dresses himself. he straps his vest back on, zips his pants, and you watch him lick his fingers clean before putting his gloves back on. you reach down, your mouth falling open when a glob of his cum slips out and dampens the sheets, and ghost has a hint of a smirk on before he rolls the mask back down.

"don' worry, luv," he mutters, reaching over and gripping your jaw rough. you pucker your lips, and he snickers. "soap'll fix you right up."

"soap?"

"mmm. the fuckin' thing is useless unless there's a mess to clean up, yeah?"

will you take care of me? will he take care of me when it's time? will he keep the dead out of my eyes and my blood inside?

he never answers your question. and deep down, you're certain it's because he would kill you, and maybe johnny would, too, because johnny does whatever he says, even if it isn't good for him. and you aren't sure if it's because this is his lieutenant or because saying yes is the only thing that make's sense anymore.

i can be useful. i can be useful. i can be useful.

when you are not useful anymore, you'll need to be the first to strike then. because maybe you don't deserve to live, but neither do they. god is a man, and he makes mistakes, and ghost is one of them, and he's eaten johnny's soul, and if you go down, you will take them with you.

god is a man, and he was a fool to think he could've cleansed the earth by himself.

it was the flood that cleansed it the first time, and mother nature always does her fucking job.

[izzabela]

Hear me out:

Bi han x fem reader where bi han takes reader out on a date but he didn't introduce them to his brothers or the earthrealmer champion. One day bi han takes y/n to a fancy dinner and johnny sees bi han in the distance and decides to go up to them as a group(everyone is having dinner together but bi han declined and didn't know they were going her) they try to get to know her and she has rock manipulation powers and bi han gets a bit possesive over them being so impressed and in awe with her

Unprecedented - Bi Han x fem!earth-bender!reader

in which Bi Han's date is ruined by idiots

a/n: hear me out- YEAH

ship[s]: bi han x fem!earth-bender!reader

warning(s): suggestive ending, semi-kanon story?

Bi Han does not forget things often or easily.

However, the fact he has been dating you for a year, and without introducing you to his family or the knuckle-heads he trained from time to time, was an incredible feat. It wasn't his fault though.

He was busy running a clan that spanned his family for generations. He sent his brothers on missions constantly, himself going along when needed.

He also left the Lin Kuei palace to train the champions at the Academy, and not bring them to his home.

His life also lied in life-or-death kombat, and Bi Han did not want you to see or know about it at all. Uncharacteristic of him, but he couldn't help it. Hell, he even kept his cryomancy at a minimum.

While you may have powers, the ability to manipulate the very earth you stood on, you did not align with the world of fighting and constant battle Bi Han faced. Instead, you used it in service of your hometown.

A town similar to Fengjian, but it was filled with older folks who couldn't lift plowing equipment the same way they did in their youth. You tilled the fields, harvested, and more chores that the elders couldn't do.

This was a defining characteristic about you that made Bi Han fall for you. You were protective of your "clan", just as Bi Han did for his. How he didn't introduce you to his family was a mystery to him still.

The consequences of this choice would be reaped momentarily.

In a rare instance, Bi Han snagged a day off and took you out on a date. Was it fancy? To the naked eye, no, but you were meeting an elder Bi Han respected and has known since childhood.

So yes, in hindsight it was. And you were hitting out of the park.

Madam Bo was absolutely smitten with you. She came off intimidating, at first, practically sizing you up as you stood, sat, and ate with Bi Han.

However, over the course of the meal, she checked up on both of you and asked many questions. Now, near the end of the meal, you had made her a happy auntie.

"How do you find Madam Bo?" Bi Han asks you. You dab a napkin on your lips to wipe away any sauce before answering.

"Intimidating at first, but she is truly a kind woman," you note her qualities. "And tough too! I like her fire."

Bi Han nods, approving your view on his retired elder. "She is well-known in the clan. I am glad you also agree with the sentiment I and the rest of the clan has of her."

You take a big bite of your food, chewing and swallowing first before you ask about family.

"How come I have not met your brothers yet? You speak highly of them, and it would be a shame to not meet them after a year of dating..." you sigh, dejected at not meeting his family.

As he begins to answer, he can hear the flamboyant voice of a certain actor in the distance. He flicks his head around to scan his surroundings, and his eyes meet the devilish glint of the actor.

"This is... unprecedented," Bi Han sighs.

"Bi Han? What is it?" you ask as you follow his eyes.

You meet the gaze of a man with brown hair and sunglasses, a man with a bun, a blindfolded man, and a man with a... razor hat?

You also note a man with gray hair and a man who looks awfully similar to your boyfriend.

They all come your way, and they're all smiles as they converse and ask questions.

"Greetings to the Lin Kuei's grandmaster," the man in a pulled-back bun says. "What brings you here?"

Bi Han nods his head to acknowledge him, "I am enjoying a meal with my... beloved."

Suddenly, all eyes are on you (even the blindfolded man). They're all looking up and down at you, and you're shy as you introduce yourself.

"You are brother's beloved?!" the ash-haired man exclaims, which earns him a smack on the back of his head.

"Tomas, show some respect," the Bi Han look-alike scolds.

"We are Bi Han's brothers. I am Kuai Liang, this is Tomas," Kuai Liang introduces himself. "It is a pleasure to finally meet the one who has our brother's heart."

You blush and bow, telling him to get up as you go around the crowd asking each man their names.

The man wearing sunglasses was named Johnny, the one who greeted Bi Han first was Raiden. Next to him was the blindfolded man Kenshi, and the sharp hat guy was Kung Lao.

Bi Han finishes paying the bill silently, watching over you as you converse with the champions and his brothers.

He can hear them asking questions on how you two met, if you had powers, where you were from, blah, blah and blah.

It made Bi Han twist and writhe in... agony? No, that wasn't right. Whatever the emotion was, he had never felt it until now.

He watched as you giggled at Kenshi and Johnny's bickering, blushed a bit at his brother's compliments, laughed heartily at Kung Lao's useless flirtation, and smiled at Raiden's humble praises.

It honestly baffled you on how Bi Han could not introduce you to such a colorful group of men.

"What brought you all here?" you asked, finally having the floor for questioning.

"Tomas owed us a meal after I won a spar," Kung Lao bragged.

You giggle again, "Well then, I won't keep you all waiting." You get up and come to Bi Han's side and place a hand on his shoulder.

"We will be taking our leave, do enjoy yourselves!"

Bi Han nods, and as quick as lightning he took you out and away from the restaurant. You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.

"B-Bi Han!" you yell. "My darling, what has gotten into you?"

Bi Han doesn't let go as he keeps walking. Your wrist is in his hand, and it grips rather tightly before he stops and turns around.

"Darling?" you call to him softly. "Tell me, what's gotten you acting like this?"

You put your hand on his cheek and watch him lean into it. Like a little house cat, purring into the warmth of his owner.

"Bi Han?" you ask again.

"I did not like how close they got to you," Bi Han whispers.

A ghost of a smile appears on your face, and you rolls your eyes as your thumb strokes back and forth on his cheek.

"Darling? Do not tell me that you're jealous?" you question him as he simply huffs.

"I am not a fool who cannot control his emotions," Bi Han says as he crosses his arms, pulling away from your touch.

You giggle as you circle him, teasing him like a child as you keep poking him with questions.

You stood on your tip-toes to reach his ears, whispering something rather raunchy to get him out of his stump.

"You have all of me, and I can show you once we go back home."

Bi Han had never summoned a portal so fast in his life.

=====================

lowkey a lazy ending, im tryna watch the olympics

dont worry, more fics coming your way

see yall in the next fic!

[thesummerestsolstice]

How Silm characters would react to meeting their Rings of Power counterparts:

Gil-Galad:

Oh they do not like each other

"I'm sorry, you said what to Elrond?"

RoP!Gil thinks Silm!Gil isn't detached and regal enough

Silm!Gil is trying to figure out the political consequences of decking him

"I'm sorry, you sent Galadriel where??"

At some point RoP!Gil, who can't believe this is another version of him, asks Silm!Gil what his royal lineage is

Silm!Gil gets real quiet after that lmao

If they ended up physically fighting Silm!Gil would win RoP!Gil fights like a normal elf and Silm!Gil bites

I think the Elronds have to pull them apart eventually

Elrond:

The Elronds get along very well I think

Silm!Elrond teaches RoP!Elrond some eldritchry

RoP!Elrond tells Silm!Elrond all about his speech craft

I think Silm!Elrond would be very into animal-carcass-related metaphors, he's a weird little guy

I feel like Silm!Elrond would feel bad for RoP!Elrond, who clearly deals with a lot of disrespect in Lindon, and would try to teach him how to be a bit more assertive

They bond over having to deal with everyone else's bullshit

Galadriel:

See this is bad for Middle-Earth

Silm!Galadriel is less openly angry but just as much of a force of nature as RoP!Galadriel

And Silm!Galadriel is also a lot better at the more subtle conniving stuff so between them they do, in fact, possess all the skills needed to take over Middle-Earth

They're busy scheming up plans to wipe Sauron off the face of the planet and frankly good for them

Celebrimbor:

They also get along very well

They talk for 15 straight hours about forge stuff

Silm!Cel talks about Annatar and RoP!Cel is like "lovely! no red flags here!"

RoP!Cel talks about how the idea for the rings came from some random, very suspicious "human" and Silm!Cel is like "haha yeah inspiration comes from the strangest places sometimes'

They're a little bit stupid but they're also beefy and kind so we can forgive them

Sauron:

Halbrand and Annatar immediatly start viciously insulting each other

They both accuse each other of having terrible taste (in Finweans and incarnate forms)

"Useless sparkly twink!" "Filthy mortal!" "I can't believe you tried to seduce Celebrimbor!" "At least I didn't try and fail to seduce Galadriel!"

Annatar finds out about the situation with Adar and the orcs and bullys Halbrand relentlessly about it

Sauron's ego can't take there being more than one version of him

Hopefully they keep each other busy until the Galadriels smite them

[edensremains]

sweet treats

summary: adam accidentally falls in love with a barista while disguising himself as a human

from my other account! available as a chatbot ^_^

Adam was out of his element in the fucking human realm.

It’s what being up in Heaven for a billion years ever does to you, especially when you’re the first man to ever bless the goddamn earth.

When Eve was kicked out of Heaven for eating the forbidden fruit, an apple he didn’t wanna fucking eat and told her just as much when she tried to offer it to him too, Adam scored a spot among the elite of Heaven with a new pair of shiny golden wings on his back. Sucks to suck, get fucked.

…It also sucks that paradise is so fucking boring when you’re not killing demonic cunts only once every year. There’s nothing to *do* because every day is a good day, getting shit-faced gets old quick when you can do it every single day and not wake up with any of the consequences. The hell was he supposed to do all the time while waiting for the next extermination?

He knew it was getting bad when even screwing angels was starting to feel like more of a chore than a good time. Honestly, the only time he could really get his kicks was doing it right after an extermination, still high on adrenaline and all the more cocky.

Eve was probably having the goddam time of her life, down there on Earth doing whatever the fuck she wants with humans. They invented all sorts of shit, and bitches were everywhere. God, what he would give to be down there enjoying that shit too.

Wait a minute.

—————————

Sticking it to the man was harder than he thought when it was so easy to go down to the human realm, hiding his angelic features in order to mingle amongst the everyday buzz of people.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but maybe that made it all the more better. So he made a routine of sneaking down after wiping his wings and halo clean, and conjuring what he saw human men wore. Shoes were so fucking lame, but he guessed they aren’t exactly able to walk among the clouds just yet.

That is, if any of these fuckers actually get up to the pearly gates, considering how all of them act. Who cares though? Adam loved the bitches that were eager to spread their legs, now they deserved a spot in Heaven more than the bastards he’d occasionally scrap with. So what if he fucked your girlfriend? Why is she at a bar pressing herself all up against him in the first place? He didn’t even have to do shit, they’d invite him over easy and he’d give them a taste of Heaven.

Honestly, it was all great until he royally FUCKED up.

The FIRST man, the original dick, the beginning of EVERYTHING. Fell for a fucking human. How stupid was that shit?

God, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw them walking down the street, nearly bumping into him in a rush. He was going to yell at them or some shit, nearly making him lose his next bed-warming target, until he got a glimpse of their face.

It was so over.

He followed them right into the coffee shop with a blank expression, completely mesmerized. They were so, so fucking pretty when they apologized to him. Their voice… The way they looked, the way they fluttered around him trying to get past him taking up the entire tiny ass sidewalk, made him suddenly want to bless the fucking construction worker who poured the minimal ass cement in this busy part of town. Plans to head to the nearest bar forgotten, he followed them into the cozy coffee shop.

And man was it fucking worth it. The fuck ass coffee was good, but he wasn’t here for that when he preferred getting shitfaced and balls-deep in some random slut.

No, he was here for them.

The first time he’d seen them, he was dumbfounded, acting stupid as fuck when he KNEW his worth, this whore would be lucky to get their ass in his bed. But God, and he meant the big man himself, what he wouldn’t give to actually have them in his goddamn bed. He might even consider getting down on his knees to beg if they blue-balled him any longer.

He’d left that night with a fierce determination to fuck the shit out of this random ass barista, he’d look at the name tag next time he was there. This wasn’t fucking running away, it was a strategic retreat. Fuck you.

Today had been a regular day for him since meeting them a couple of months ago. Instead of getting lucky, he’d found himself drawn back to the cafe every week and getting some stupid ass drink so he could watch his favorite barista make it and stare at them the entire time. He’d toss in a few remarks, and found himself forced to actually try and be respectful to some puny ass human that managed to get a chokehold on him.

He didn’t give a fuck if he wasn’t human and that going down to their realm wasn’t allowed, he wanted something and he’d fucking have it.

That being his barista, ‘cuz who the fuck else would it be?

“Gimme the good shit.” He demanded at the counter, a wad of bills clenched in his hand. His bitch looked so fucking fine today, it was practically taking all his strength to not stare at their ass instead of them. Pretty eyes and all, but FUCK. That uniform was doing wonders for them somehow. He didn’t fucking know, but he wanted a piece of it so goddamn bad.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Adam. The ‘good shit’ isn’t exactly a drink.” Their co-worked stifled a groan, clearly they weren’t happy to see his ass here yet again. Despite becoming somewhat of a regular, he didn’t give a shit about any of the other baristas. No, he wasn’t here for them, bland cunts.

“Give me the good shit. I don’t fucking know what it’s called. They know what the hell I’m talking about.” His eyes searched for as he turned his head in their direction, watching them try and juggle multiple cups of coffee on a tray.

“Fuck, whatever! Hey, you!” Their co-worker yelled, startling them enough to nearly drop a tray, some coffee tipping over the mugs and coating the tray with a few droplets before they could steady themself. Adam’s brows furrowed, an irritated feeling bubbling up, directed at the bitch at the counter. Not at his favorite human, *never* at them. God, he’d spoil the shit out of them if he could.

“Get this guy his fucking drink, whatever that is. I’ll get those.” Their co-worker sighed, setting down his notepad and trudging away to pick up their trays on the table.

They simply nodded, undisturbed at being yelled at, as if they were used to it. Adam forcefully shoved down his irritation, feeling pacified at seeing them taking that bastards place at the counter.

“Sup, slu— Sweetcheeks. Gimme the good shit, not a macchiato but the caramel one. The real one is fucking horseshit.” Of course he knows his fucking order, it’s their favorite drink to make. One night, they’d told him just as much, telling him that it was satisfying to watch the espresso sit on top of the milk, separated by the ice perfectly while doing criss-cross patterns with the caramel. He’d listened, then promptly stirred everything together in front of them just to be a little shit.

They’d rolled their eyes and laughed, which made his dick hard and his heart swell. He’d gotten it every time since. One time, they’d served him an actual macchiato and it was fucking horrible without the added syrup and shit. God, he’d nearly spat it out before making them get his usual caramel macchiato with blonde espresso and extra caramel lined on the cup, something they’d given him the first time he’d walked in and asked for a recommendation.

Way too fucking sugary for him, but he drank it all anyways, because his bitch put time and effort into making his goddam drink and he was gonna drink it all.

“Oh, and add in the stupid pastry you served me last time.” He’d added, then paused. “Please, bit—… Please.” He tossed some of his cash into the tip jar, hoping it’d go to them instead of their fuck ass co-workers.

“Coming right up! And you wanted a slice of our coffee cake?” They hummed happily as they took a slice from the display, and served it on a plate. They set it aside before turning their attention back to him. “You can go take a seat and I’ll bring it to you, okay?”

Adam nodded, oddly feeling lighter than he did when he walked in. His eyes lingered on them for a tad longer before he forced himself to walk to his usual spot in the corner, easily sliding into his booth as he pretended not to be looking at them and instead staring at his phone, something he’d gotten a couple weeks into disguising himself as a human.

Obviously his eyes were on them, but he didn’t want them to know that. Fuck, they looked good as hell today. It was sickening how easily he crumbled when it came to them, every interaction between the two just ensnared him further into their try. Witchcraft or some shit, it had to be. He was better than this.

It was always the other way around. He didn’t know what the fuck to do to catch their attention, he was the first man created! Bitches were all over him except this one. It was frustrating, and he’d almost vented to Lite about it before he caught himself.

Right. They don’t know shit about that part of his life.

Here, he was just Adam, the regular who gets the same drink and tries his best to chat them before peak hits and he watches them rush around trying to take orders and make drinks while their co-workers sit on their ass practically.

“There you are!” They set down his drink and the plate of coffee cake as they give him a beaming smile, one that makes his heart start pounding before he grips his hands into fists tightly under the table to calm himself down before he says something stupid.

“Fuck yeah, thanks.” He has a dumb smirk on his face and he knows it as he reaches for his drink, taking a long sip of the sugary beverage, and he suppresses a grimace at how sweet it is. Despite this, he shoots a grin at them. “You always make the best shit.” He tries to glance at their name tag to finish his words off, but like always, the chalk written on it has smeared and it’s unreadable.

“So, got any plans for the weekend or are you going to be here like always, serving coffee to assholes like me?” He tries to sound casual as he leans back in his seat, one eye peering at them for any sort of reaction they might have.

“Just the usual.” They smile, but it looks a tad tired. “Got a long shift, won’t be leaving until dark. The weather is supposed to be nice though, so I hope you get to enjoy it.”

He furrowed his brows slightly, someone like them shouldn’t be staring all cooped up in this shithole of a cafe when they clearly should be enjoying the weather or whatever humans do in their free time, he wouldn’t know. Sucks though, they have taxes and shit to pay for or whatever. Also something he wouldn’t know about, the human world is just filled with a bunch of weird stuff and rules.

“Sucks to suck, I guess. You free after your shift though?”

Nice. Subtle and nonchalant, Adam praised himself internally, a grin on his face.

They furrow their brows. -2 points, fuck. He watches as his barista internally debates something, briefly glancing at his drink before shaking their head. “Nah, I have to get some rest, got an early shift tomorrow morning.”

He can’t tell if they’re being truthful or not, but the sting of some sort of rejection stabs at him, as if he’d even extended any offer or invitation to go out (which he was BUILDING up to!). His grin falters for a moment before he smooths it over, this isn’t a rejection, he didn’t even say anything yet. Mind you, they were probably being honest, even if they won’t look him in the eye and they’re oddly flushed.

“Huh.” He replies unintelligently, not quite sure what else to say to keep them there. He doesn’t want them to go back to work just yet, but he can hear their coworkers shuffling closer, mumbling to each other about his barista ‘slacking’ off as if this place isn’t carried on their back. Fuck their fuck ass co-workers.

“Well, if you’re ever tired of his dump, come find me, yeah? I know a place with killer ribs.” He doesn’t, but they don’t need to know that. He’ll google it or something later. He glances at them out of the corner of his, trying to gauge a reaction to as if his nonchalant bad boy demeanor is working yet.

They let out a small laugh that sounds like the chiming of a bell, and his stomach does a funny flip before they give him a nod. “Will do, Adam. Enjoy your drink, okay?” They reach out and turn his drink around, before swiftly moving onto the next table, beginning to clean off some ungrateful fucks.

He raises a brow at their sudden moving of his cup, but brushes it off. He watches them for a moment more, letting out a small sigh. This human of his doesn’t even know how bad they have him wrapped around their finger. That’s a good thing though, Adam isn’t some simp for them to have on their roster.

He scoffs at the notion, before grabbing his cup and taking a sip, wincing again at all the sugar before his eyes notice a scrawl on the side of his cup.

Pulling it back, he glances at it before choking on the liquid still in his mouth, eyes wide as he frantically coughs, trying to get the drink down the right pipe before they turn their head at him.

A number, neatly written, paints the edge of his cup, and he frantically whips out his phone, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as he punches in the digits immediately in his contacts app. He can’t help the dopey expression on his face anymore, eyes honed in on the phones screen.

After, he pumps his fist in the air, not caring about how it looks to the other patrons.

FUCK YEAH, MAN.

[mjrtaurus]

Alternative, healthier Crocomom/dad/parent theory to juxtapose the previous one I posted.

Luffy was still a Cryptic pregnancy, because if he and Dragon had known, they would have very likely aborted so as not to bring a child into a world that would be irrationally dangerous for them (See: Ace and Robin being hunted like dogs by the WG for the "sin" of their heritage). But Dragon and Croc would have embraced this surprise baby boy with open arms and open hearts.

But they still would have to give their baby up. They both knew this. To make sure their son has the very best bet of survival in this world, he would need to have as few ties to his parents as humanly possible.

They couldn't even bear to name the boy, knowing they would have to let him go.

It... tore them both up. It ended up with the two men growing distant, and eventually having their relationship fizzle out. They still loved each other, yes, but the magic just wasn't there anymore. It all went away with their baby boy.

Cut to Alabasta.

Crocodile is fully transitioned by this point, thanks to Iva. He's a Warlord now, he's feeding the Revolutionaries a steady influx of information on World Government activities, but he's seeking out Pluton on the down-low to wipe the WG off the face of the earth.

He is, unfortunately, not as merciful or patient a man as Dragon. He wants shit done and he wants it done as fast as possible, consequences be damned.

This attitude also contributed significantly to the distancing between himself and Dragon.

And now Luffy arrives and starts to put a wrench in his plans.

Crocodile doesn't recognize him. Not his face, as he'd all but blocked it from his memory. Not his name, as they chose not to name him.

As for the surname? Well, he and Dragon had an unspoken thing between them. Neither of them knew the other's full name so that information wouldn't get out if either were captured and interrogated.

Crocodile didn't know Luffy was their son until Sengoku dropped that particular hazardous info bomb in Marineford.

So, he did as any crocodilian parent would do when their hatchling is in distress and wrecked house.

His goal? Draw as much attention to himself as possible. Instigate total chaos.

Stopping Ace's execution and jumping in the middle of the crowd to announce how petty you're feeling? Attacking Whitebeard with reckless abandon in broad daylight in front of his crew?

Bet.

He wanted all eyes on him at Marineford so none of them would be on Luffy, which worked on just about everyone but a volcanic freight train named Sakazuki.

The horror of realizing he had stabbed, mummified, and poisoned his own son back during the Alabasta coup only hits him later when the dust has settled.

And man does it hit him hard.

[iifishizzleii]

johnny mactavish who has a sister— you.

part two unedited 😛

you’re younger than him by five years, a sweet, soft thing that has no business being so close to his work life. but you’re stubborn and caring, and you force him to tell you every time he’s back from a mission so you can go to his flat and make him dinner while you two catch up on (your) life.

you’re his best friend. the thorn in his side. his baby sister that deserves only the best of the world in every aspect. you always get the good things, even if it means johnny has to deal with the consequences. especially when it comes to men.

johnny is a protective older brother. he’ll want to meet the guy you fall in love with and have the typical gun in hand while johnny cleans it like how his dad would have done if he were still around. he’ll want to not so subtly threaten to wipe the guy’s existence off of the face of the earth if he so much as makes you cry, and send the guy home pissing his pants. sure, you’ll get mad at him, but johnny’s seen what heartbreak does to people.

he knows his sister. you put your heart into all that you do, and if it gets thrown in your face after being stomped and spat on? he doesn’t want to see what happens to you after that. he wouldn’t be able to without breaking several laws.

so, when it comes to johnny’s sister, you, he’s very picky with the men you bring to his flat to introduce.

until the evening you meet his lieutenant. simon ghost riley. because johnny had gone drinking with the men after a particularly rough mission, and after getting absolutely smashed, price takes it upon himself to contact the only person the scot has in his phone. you.

and johnny should have known. he should have known.

the moment he saw you outside the bar, ghost’s arm under his and wrapping around the sergeant’s waist to keep him steady. the way you greet the 141 with a gentle smile and light voice. the way you stare at ghost a beat too long, and the way his grip on johnny’s waist tightens slightly as he returns your hello with one of his own. one that’s not as gruff, not as piercing as it usually was when meeting a stranger.

like how it was when he first met johnny.

and he hates it. he hates it so fucking much.

the way you and ghost click so easily. how ghost starts spending more and more time around johhny’s place after he met you. how his voice softens when he speaks to his sister, how his gaze loses its sharpness. how he watches her every move, a look of yearning and adoration growing by the day in those soft brown eyes of his.

johnny hates it.

because that wasn’t supposed to be you. that was supposed to be him.

he was supposed to be getting the gentle touches and quiet huffs of laughter. he was supposed to be the one ghost gave dry compliments to so he could smile at them. he was supposed to be the reason ghost stopped smoking because he didn’t like the scent that lingered. he was the one ghost was supposed to whisper inside jokes to whenever they were surrounded by other people. that was supposed to be him sitting at ghost’s side, his head on the taller man’s shoulder as they watched an inaccurate military movie, so that they could critique it throughout because it was him who knew that ghost liked to do those kinds of things.

but, you always get the good things. even if it means johnny has to deal with the consequences.

[festering-obsession]

ANON: Hey I just love your Na’vi OC I would love to see you create something where he tries to teach the reader how to hunt and survive on Pandora. Maybe have a cute bonding moment where she almost get hurt. 💗💗💗

A/N: Slight Imprisonment, Dark Themes, Yandere Behavior, Stockholm Syndrome, Na'Vi OC x Reader

Your breath is unsteady as you clutch onto the map, this is your only way out of this jungle. You don't know if Hewu'itan is back home now, just realizing you left. It was on him for leaving those vines out which helped you climb down the tall tree he had kept you prisoner in.

Hewu'itan wasn't mean to you during your stay, in fact, he was quite the opposite, but you wanted back home. You can't stay on Pandora, you want back home at Earth. Instead of running, you opted to carefully follow the map. You stayed low to the ground, next to the bushes and forage instead of the more open parts of the jungle.

As still as you feel you are moving, your breathe is raggedy. You had no weapon to defend yourself against any predator, and no skills to really run or hide if Hewu'itan decides to just show up.

The moons in the sky are about to arise from the death of the sun. You are on limited time and light it so seems.

The makeshift sandals that Hewu'itan gave you are started to untie themselves, and you have no idea how he knotted them to stay. You sat down next to a fallen log, leaning against it. This place was not meant for you, you felt like a pet that ran from home and is suffering from the consequences. A tear slipped down, stupid you, tripping over your own feet in an unknown jungle with a half torn map.

You wiped your mask from the grime using a piece of clothe that barely covered your chest. You tried to steady your breathes, it'll be fine, you'll be home soon. Get into your own clothes, take a hot bath, and take a one way ticket out of this program.

Getting back on your feet with the badly knotted shoes, you continued on.

You were far from the place he kept you in, you would be fine with just walking and not running hopefully. It would lower your noises, too.

You raised the map higher to the sky, you need to get the last glimpses of sun so you can see the map. And a arrow whizzed through the air, through your map, and planted on the tree in front of its path.

Your fingers grasped onto nothing and you felt yourself still. The map torn to shreds sitting helplessly in front of you.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you could have seen a startling blue, and your head could only scream one word: run. You never felt this much adrenaline since you were running from that Thanator during your first expedition.

You throat felt dry and you felt like breaking down, but your legs kept moving. You were so close to being free you can't stop now. You jumped over hedges and fallen debris in the forrest, pushing yourself from trees to try to give you a boost.

You felt a tear slip down, no, no, you're not going to let Hewu'itan scare you like this. You tried to run to the side, only to see the large expanse of a steep mountain side by you.

You had one direction, and you narrowed your eyes and ran as fast as you could. One foot after the other, just keep running. You didn't register how your feet weren't making contact with the ground as you were wrapped in such alarmingly long arms.

Your eyes gazed back into Hewu'itan's. He looked down with an unreadable expression. The mask covering any mouth movements he could have made.

Say something, you urged yourself, but all you felt was a hollow feeling of disappointment. Hewu'itan slowly unlatched his mask, and you could see the downturned expression of his face. Disappointment, fear, relief. Yet he hugged you tighter.

"If I couldn't find you, I wouldn't be able to live knowing that I allowed my mate to get into such a fate." Hewu'itan brushed his fingers against your back. Such forgiveness, did you deserve him? You cluthed onto him, grasping onto any part of him within reach.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I didn't know what I was thinking." You begged into the locks braided hair.

"I am impressed by how well you managed without me, perhaps I underestimated your ability here." Hewu'itan softly cradled you.

"Perhaps I have been unjust. If seeing more of my home is what you want, I'll let you accompany on some of my duties. Just in case you know how to handle yourself in case any emergency may arise." Hewu'itan replied, heavy in thought.

"I don't deserve that, I haven't been good to you..." You cried into his shoulder blade. "Don't worry." Hewu'itan rubbed circles on your cheeks comforting. "I'll just make sure you never leave my side."

Was that terror in the pit of your stomach, or the birth of new feelings Hewu'itan?

You didn't want to think about such things, your feelings were complicated enough. All you needed to think about was how comforting Hewu'itan arms felt, and how stable he made you feel.

Hewu'itan glanced down at your glassy eyes and smiled. "You truly are a sight to behold." His nose rubbed against the side of your head. "And you are all mine."

-Cole

(A/N: Sorry for late post, I have a bunch of drafts but because of recent college, work, and friend troubles, it’s been tough. I got back to writing, and it’s helped me. Got some more Hewu’itan content coming including a sketch so you can better visualize him.)

[darkwaveho]

Mini Burden

Consequences

Summary: Anastasia is a mastermind, but this time what happens when the mastermind is caught?

Warnings: fluff, brief smut, cursing, mentions of murder.

Series masterlist

After a long day Natasha finally gets to relax herself as she walks through the front door. In the past you were the one to be at home greeting her and asking her all about her day but now since you're so busy throwing yourself into the night club, Natasha doesn’t get as much time with you as she’d like. However, she would never complain about coming home and being greeted by her favorite little human on earth. Natasha makes her way into the kitchen and spots her carbon copy sitting at the dining room table. “Hey, monster.” 

“Hi mama.” Anastasia talks with her mouth full of spaghetti. If she didn’t look so adorable right now with sauce smeared on her chubby cheeks Natasha would’ve reprimanded her for the action. For the first time in a while she’s thankful that you’re still at the club tonight. Natasha walks further into the dining room stopping right behind Anastasia’s chair to place a gentle kiss on the side of her forehead. She thinks about wiping her mouth while she’s next to her but decides against it seeing how it will end up looking like that as soon as she leaves beside her. Natasha’s gentle smile slowly fades as she closely examines Anastasia’s plate.

“How come I don’t see any vegetables on that plate?” Anastasia ignores her mother by taking a big sip of her apple juice. Natasha raises a brow at the action, she knows this probably will end with her raising her voice. “Ana, I’m speaking to you.” Natasha takes the apple juice away from her reach. It seems now she had Ana’s full attention. She whines hoping that will make Natasha give her the juice back, she didn’t want to answer the question because she knew that she would get in trouble for it if not by Natasha, then you. “Where are the vegetables? I know for a fact that I left strict instructions for your dinner time routine.” 

“I ate them all,” she smiles innocently and shrugs her shoulders, she tries to reach for the cup but Natasha swiftly moves it away again. “Is that right? So if I wake up uncle Scott then he’ll tell me you ate your vegetables?” Anastasia nods her head confidently. Natasha narrows her eyes at the action and walks into the living room to not so gently shake Scott awake. “Ah!” Scott jumps up from the couch with his hand over his chest. “Jesus! You scared me!”

 “That’ll be the least of your worries depending on what your answer is to my question.” Natasha narrows her eyes at him. As her words truly hold a darker meaning behind them, one that Scott was known to be a witness of.

“What? What question?”

“Did you follow the list of instructions I gave you?” Scott rubs his face as a means to properly wake himself up. “Uh, yeah I did everything besides bedtime obviously.” 

“So you made sure Anastasia had vegetables on her plate?” 

“Yes, boss. I even magically grew them in the backyard while you were gone.”  

“Watch it.” He clears his throat seeing Natasha wasn’t in the mood for jokes right now. “Sorry.” Natasha sighs and waves her hand dismissively. “You can go home now.” Scott doesn’t ask further questions even though he wants to, he grabs his things, says goodbye to Anastasia and leaves. Meanwhile, Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen to find a pouting Anastasia impatiently waiting for apple juice privileges again.

“Alright, monster looks like you weren’t lying this time, here you go.” Natasha smooths down the top part of her hair and places the cup back onto the table. Anastasia happily goes back to eating her food. Natasha walks into the kitchen still very suspicious of her daughter. She looks into the trash bin to see if Ana threw away the vegetables. Nothing in there. Natasha then traveled back to the living room. Near Fanny’s bed no evidence there or any leading Natasha to believe that she pawned her vegetables off for Fanny to eat.

Maybe Anastasia truly did eat her vegetables this time, it’s been a struggle to get her comfortable with different food groups and veggies just so happened to be the biggest issue. Natasha takes her seat at the table and finally starts eating, she’s had a busy schedule with her construction company as well as her mob tie activities taking over today. Natasha’s phone goes off just as she and Anastasia finish eating. She checks her texts from you saying you’ll be home much later. It’s become a habit now, Natasha tries to not let it get to her, but she can only hold it in for so much longer. 

“Well, mommy’s going to be late….again, so let’s get you ready for bed.” Natasha sighs, taking a long swig of her wine and clears the table. “Mommy’s always working late!” Anastasia says while stomping up the stairs, Natasha wasn’t going to discipline her, at least not right now. She’s too tired and honestly Anastasia was right. Natasha finally understands the way you felt long ago when she was the one staying out and coming home early mornings. “I know, sweetie but she promises to call before bed, okay?” Natasha hears a “hmp” slip past the girl's lips she wouldn’t push any further, she doesn’t feel like dealing with a tantrum right now and she’s on thin ice with the gentle parenting method tonight. She lets it slide remembering that it's normal to let children express how they feel. A privilege Natasha didn't have and something she wouldn’t strip her daughter of.

As Natasha walks side by side with Anastasia to her room the only thing running through her mind is you calling her phone to say goodnight. After giving Anastasia a bath and tucking her into bed, she decided to call it quits, opting to turn the light and kiss her forehead in place of your absent promise. It didn't do anything to help the pain that Anastasia was feeling.  “She promised.” her voice wavers, evident that she was starting to release her frustrations and turn them into sadness. There is only so much Natsaha can do, there is only so much she’s equipped to handle. Feeling abandoned is something she has dealt with, but she doesn't know how to comfort others that are dealing with the same emotion. She can only soothe her daughter by rubbing her back and wiping away her tear-stained cheeks.

“I know, baby.” Just as Natasha was about to prepare herself to sleep in the tiny bed, she hears the sound of footsteps. Your footsteps. She sighs when the door creaks open, but it doesn't last long when she realizes that you’re tipsy, you were too busy drinking and whatever else to call your daughter before bedtime? You walk over to the bed with a strong face, but Natasha can see you clearly, even in the dark. You feel guilty, it's written all over your face, sober or not. She remains quiet as you sit down on the edge of the bed. She kisses Anastasia on the cheek, says goodnight and leaves the room without saying a word to you. 

“Are you mad at me?” You sweetly ask as you try to snuggle her cheeks. Anastasia nods her head and deepens her frown. “You didn’t eat dinner with me and mama.” 

“I know.” you sigh defeatedly. “You promised to call before bedtime, and you didn’t.” The tears start to pool in her eyes and you notice the stains on her cheeks, that's when you finally realize that she's been crying. You gently wipe away her tears and bring her closer to you. “Mommy is very sorry, Ana.” You attempt to apologize but it does nothing to soften her face, apologies wont work anymore you’ve broken them one too many times for Anastasia's liking. “How about we have a day just to ourselves? Get ice cream, go shopping and get our nails painted?” 

You feel the small bed shift as Anastasia turns to face you again. She studies you for a moment before she finally speaks. “Can we get glitter on our nails?” You chuckle and nod your head. “Anything you want.” 

“You promise?” instead of just reassuring her with that same word you introduce her to the pinky promise. You hold out your pinky and your thumb as she looks at you curiously for a moment and then she mirrors your same hand gesture. “Pinky promise. I’ll never break a pinky promise, okay?” you lock your pinky with hers finalizing the binding promise as your pinky and thumbs touch. “Okay, mommy.” You pull her close in an embrace and place quick kisses all over her face as she giggles. “Alright, now go to bed, it's past your bedtime.” You stand up after place one last gentle kiss to her forehead and turn the light off before heading to your bedroom. 

Natasha has already done her nightly routine as she’s laying in bed turned on her side facing away from you instead of laying directly in the middle like usual. You sigh softly as you enter the restroom to take a quick shower and do your nightly routine. She’s ignoring you. She wants to start an argument with you, not only missing dinner, or the bedtime call. You’re putting your club over your family priorities. Once you return Natasha is still in the same spot and nearly on the verge of sleep when the bed suddenly shifts and she feels an unexpected weight on top of her. “So, how was your day?” Natasha remains silent as she tries to avoid eye contact with you. You were already sensing her attitude before you got here. You place your fingers underneath her chin and turn her face back to you. 

“Are you mad at me too, baby?” You softly pant against her lips maintaining stern eye contact. She scoffs and turns fully on her side, not concerned with your body falling backwards as she does this in the process. “I’m sorry.” you wait for her to face you again, but you’d be waiting until morning, it's clear she’s angry with you. “You were too damn busy drinking on the job when you're supposed to be home having dinner with your daughter and tucking her in.” you scoff at her response.

“I had one drink, Tash. Besides, it's a bit stressful running a business. You of all people should know that. Remember when roles were reversed, and I was Ana waiting on you to come home or just spend time with me?” You had a point; you were in Anastasia’s shoes in the past and it almost ended this relationship amongst other things.

You still aren't giving up; you won’t allow her to go to sleep angry with you. You’ll try all night if you have to. Natasha feels your hands against her skin. She grumbles at the action and remains still. You snuggle up to her again pressing your front completely against her back. She fights against you holding her as you place small kisses on the side of her face. “Kisses aren’t going to make me stop being mad at you.” You smirk at her response you love how confident and cocky she’s being right now. You also know it’s a lie, Natasha always folds from just a simple touch. It’s just the 'when and where' that determines how quickly she folds for you. You hum in acknowledgment as your fingers ghost around her waist. Your leg hooks over her body keeping her in place.

“Now, tell me about your day.” You say, focusing on her neck as you intend to leave behind marks. “Fisk is driving me fucking insane with his new floor plan for his beach house, Thor forgot to collect the payment from Charles today, and a new recruit was the one that had to remind him.” She sighs frustratedly and she suddenly releases a soft moan after you lick a special spot on her neck.You pull back admiring your work and enjoy the feeling of her relaxed body. “Hm, sounds like hell.” You rub your thumbs gently against her cheeks as she holds both of your wrists in her hands softly repeating the same action as you. You began leaving quick kisses on her face, never settling in the same spot for too long, this was one way to get Natasha to talk about her day without forcing it out of her and starting an argument about the importance of communication. “Did anything else happen today?” You say, between kissing her soft lips and running your tongue against her bottom lip.

 “Ana ate all her vegetables.” You pull back in shock. “Really? You saw her eat them?” Natasha groans internally from the lost touch she probably should’ve waited until after to tell you that.

“Well, no but she didn’t have anything in the trash or in Fanny’s bed this time. Plus Scott made sure to follow the instructions.” You turn your head towards the closed door. “Now I’ll have to get her something special.” Natasha hums as she gets lost in the thought of you straddling her. Her hands grab your waist, giving it a firm squeeze to bring your attention back on her. 

“And what exactly do I get?” Natasha plasters her signature smirk on her lips. You match her smirk and push her chest down so that she’s fully laying against the mattress. Your lips start at her neck again, trailing over to her lips for a brief kiss. You snake your hand underneath her shirt gently rubbing her nipple. You don’t continue with your movements until you’re satisfied with her soft moans. You trail your kisses down her abs and when you finally hook your fingers into her shorts you pull them down granted with the mess that only you could cause her to have, and you’ve barely even touched her yet.

“Let me show you.” You kiss her clit and trail your tongue down her slit, you spread her folds as you flatten your tongue against her warm cunt. “Fuck, did you lock the door?” She pants as she spreads her legs wider for you. Her gaze shifts from the door to the ceiling to you practically shoving your face in her pussy. She’s trying to keep her focus on just you but the burning thought of Anastasia waking up and barging up in here would truly piss her off for the rest of the week. “No, you won’t last long anyway.” Natasha loves the confident energy you're bringing tonight. You both haven't had a lot of free time to spend alone together, so she would be making up for every minute of tonight.

--------

As the days go on things are back to the normal schedule, you come home early more often now. Seeing as your absence was beginning to affect your daughter. “What the hell is that god awful smell?” 

“Ooo mommy you owe mr. piggles money for swearing." Anastasia grins at you from her seat. Now that you and Natasha have introduced the rules of the swear jar it seems to have backfired on the two of you the most. “It's not a curse word, It's in the bible.” 

“We don’t read the bible.” She tilts her head innocently as she moves her spoon through her bowl of cereal. You curse yourself for having a smart child, maybe you should have opted out to put her in public school.  “I know.” you say as you scrunch up your nose still trying to find out where the smell was coming from. 

“So it’s still a curse word mommy.”

 “I know baby, I'll cash app it to him, now eat your breakfast.” You sit your coffee mug down, not even able to enjoy your caffeinated brew with the smell that keeps invading your nose. Everyone else seems to be ignoring it or  you yank Natasha up by the collar of her freshly steamed shirt. “What did I do?” 

“Did you bring your work home and forget about it or something?” You make sure to put a heavy emphasis on ‘work’. Natasha stares at you with confusion. “What? Why the hell would I do that?” You're skeptical of her answer but you've never had to question her on this specific issue before. She's never brought home evidence from work, that would be a rookie mistake and she’s clearly not that. “So, I'm just making shit up? Are you telling me you dont smell that?” Natasha releases a breath, it's too early to deal with your rants but it’s also too early to deal with you in a pissy mood, so she walks around the kitchen distinctly trying to sniff out the smell that caused you to ball up her shirt, that is now wrinkled and creased. “What is that?” Natasha pinches her nose together in disgust the closer she gets to the kitchen sink. 

“See, I'm not crazy.” You point matterfactly in the same direction where Natasha was standing. As Natasha puts her fingers down the drain and pulls her fingers out with green goo coating her fingertips.

“What is that?” 

“Looks like mold, is it mold?” 

“Mold?!” 

“Calm down,y/n!” Natasha looks over her shoulders with annoyance, you literally have killed and made people bleed before, and you’re scared of mold. Sometimes she can’t help but wonder how different things would be, how different you would be if you got the same treatment she did.

“It looks like broccoli, or green beans.” it was actually any and every green vegetable that Anastasia has claimed to have eaten. Sitting in your drain. The veggies have just been sitting in the drain rotting while you and Natasha have been rewarding her. “Ana.” Anastasia hums at the sound of her name but doesnt look up from her bowl of sugary cereal. “Look at me when I am speaking to you.” she nubbles her lip before she finally looks up, trying to turn on her doe eyes and innocent charm. It's not working this time, because this time you are the one to lead the discipline. “Why are there vegetables clogging the sink and stinking up my kitchen?” She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, she not even trying to show an ounce of guilt or remorse for her actions. The fact that she didn't even want to plead her case tells you what type of day it is with her and you wont allow it. You've been a little absent but you’d be damned if you allow her to do things without consequences.

“Go get your allowance and put it in the swear jar.” 

“But– but I didn't swear, mommy.” she looks at you with tears in her eyes hoping you would change your mind on the punishment. She even looks to Natasha over your shoulder in hopes that she would save her. “No, but you lied. Go get your allowance and put it in the swear jar until we get a jar for lying.” she takes a little longer to get up from the table than you'd like. “Go, now.” she jumps down out of her seat and stomps out of the kitchen. You will be firm in your discipline but you will not yell at her. Natasha on the other hand didn’t have a problem playing the bad cop if need be. “I cannot believe this.” Natasha comes up behind you with a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey, relax, I’ll have Scott’s ass over here to fix it, he'll be lucky if I don’t make him eat it since he was supposed to be watching her.”

“I don’t know what scares me more, the fact that she didn’t care to get caught or the fact that she’s lying more casually now.”  

“Well, what scares me more is her knowledge of the garbage disposal now. Let's hope we don't start finding Barbie doll parts in the pipeline next.” Natasha nudges your shoulder to make light of the situation. It does its job getting a small chuckle out of you. “True.” Suddenly she sneaks her hands around your waist and pulls you flush against her. Her lips edge towards your ear and she softly speaks. “Also, I just wanna say you sound so hot when you’re in tough mommy mode.”

“Does punishing our kid turn you on or something?” you look at her with shock but now you would have something new to tease her about. “Only when she deserves it.” Natasha shrugs her shoulders with a playful grin and places a quick kiss on your lips. She would never take joy in punishing her daughter in serious situations. This was not a serious situation but she's not going to say that outloud.

She'll most likely comfort Anastasia later on, when you're busy. Anastasia finally returns to the kitchen with her allowance. She holds a pout and as you hold your hand out for the money Anastasia places the roll of cash into your hand. She starts to walk away but you notice the weight of the cash isn't true to what she actually has in her piggy bank upstairs. “Not so fast, where is the rest of it?” you raise your eyebrow, just to show you mean business.

“But– I won't have enough to buy new squishmallows, mommy.” She puts on her best puppy dog face, but it doesn't work. You move your fingers as a signal for her to give up the money. She huffs her breath and reaches down into her pocket and hands you another wad of cash that was rubber band together. As she starts to walk away Natasha finally chimes in now. “Do you have something you want to say, monster?” She crosses her arms as she sits back in her seat at the table. The intimidation was prominent even if Natasha wasn't trying to. “I’m sorry.” she looks up at the both of you through her thick lashes. You don't believe she’s actually sorry, it's a routine response. Why would she be sorry for getting rid of the nasty vegetables? it's not logical. “Do you want to tell us why you decided to lie and hide your vegetables?” Natasha tilts her head awaiting an answer.

“I don’t like them.” it was a plain and simple answer, nothing more to it. “We understand that, but you need them to grow big and strong, no matter how yucky they might be.” Anastastia holds her head down in disappointment and Natasha is quick to correct it. “Head up, eyes forward. From now on you do not get rewards until you start eating your vegetables, you don't have to eat all of them but hiding them around the house will not happen again, right?” 

“Yes, mama.” she nods her head understanding the agreement no matter how much she wants to throw a tantrum she knows it'll make things worse. She already lost her squishmallow money she does not want to push further. Natasha reaches across the table and pats Anastasia's hand for small comfort. It's to show that you two were not really upset, just disappointed in her actions. “Now finish your breakfast.” Natasha locks eyes with you and nods slightly, you two seemed to have handled it well. Natasha is the one to normally blow a situation up when it comes to discipline Anastasia but today you took her place. Finding common ground was always the main goal but that doesn't mean you always reached it.

Three days had passed since that incident, and since then Anastasia has been on heavy watch when it comes down to her eating dinner and more specifically eating her vegetables. It was a tough task at first but slowly and slowly she started to progress. Much more when she’s reminded of her bankrolls in the swear jar taunting her at every meal of the day. As you tuck Anastasia in her bed, and say goodnight Natasha stays behind, sitting on the edge of the bed smoothing over Anastasia's slicked hair. “You've been doing a very good job with eating your vegetables, me and mommy are very proud of you.” Natasha smiles at the reaction her praises get from her daughter. She never thought she would be able to have this. To be a mother, to be a good mother, and learn from her past childhood experiences to know what not to do. She’s proud of her own progress she’s made with her parenting skills. “Can I have my money back now?’ Natasha laughs at her determination, she’s ambitious if anything. “Sorry, that’s up to mommy.”  

“Aww but I said sorry, and I've been eating the yucky vegetables.” She puts on a pout with a saddened noise. “We know and again, you’re doing a good job, keep it up and you'll have your bankrolls back from the swear jar in no time.” Natasha ends her mature response with a light boop to her daughter’s nose.

“Okay.” They share a warm embrace and a forehead kiss. When Natasha situates Anastasia back into the bed comfortably, she heads for the door but just as before she left out the room completely, she looks over her shoulder and lowers her voice. “Send me a picture of the squishmallow you want.” Anastasia’s eyes practically jump out of her eye socket with joy, she plasters a wide smile on her face that even Natasha can see in the darkness.

“Thank you, mama.” Natasha mirrors her daughter’s smile and places a finger against her lips as a signal to keep quiet. Anastasia nods her head frantically. She repeats the action, trying to contain herself of excitement of adding a new squishy friend to her collection. In the end of all of Anastasia’s punishments Natasha will always find a way to balance things out when she sees progress being made. Natasha will also have to prepare for how she’ll make it up to you for going behind your back but that's a problem for a different day, because tomorrow she will be getting her daughter that squishmallow. 

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // NINE

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: The Blue Spirit inadvertently takes you to see the consequences of the decisions your brother has made during his reign as the Earth King.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.8k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: kind of gross description of an injury later on in the chapter?? be warned ig. also idk how compliant some parts of this are with canon but wtvr this is how it is in the glass princess universe

“Kuei!” you wailed, clutching your knee and sobbing, ducking away from the servant that tried to pull you to your feet. “Kuei!”

Though he was barely more than a child himself, he still came running when you called for him. Though he was the king of the Earth Kingdom, though he had many times more important duties to attend to, he always came running. Shoving the servant out of the way with a murmured apology, he crouched and swept you into his arms.

“Y/N, Y/N, don’t cry. What happened? Why do you weep?” he said, clutching your small body to his chest, holding your face against his narrow shoulders. You muffled your tears in the silken fabric of his robes, though the pain you were feeling rapidly faded in the protective warmth of your brother’s embrace.

“She fell, your royal majesty,” the servant said. “The stone floors scraped her knee, and she has been bawling since it happened. She won’t allow me to clean it, so it’s been left unattended. She keeps saying that she’ll only allow you to see to it.”

“Sister, you must let the servants help you,” Kuei admonished you, picking you up and setting you down on the ground before him. “That’s the entire reason they’re in the palace at all.”

You peered up at Kuei, blinking your wet, swollen eyes at him pitifully. He tried to remain stern, but the effect was lost on you, as he softened within the instant, using the ends of his flowing sleeves to wipe your face from the tears rapidly drying on your skin. Then, before anyone could protest, he tore the hem of his robe off.

“Your royal majesty!” the servant, inhaling sharply. “That robe was sent to your great-great-grandfather by the Fire Nation for his coronation! It is a priceless heirloom!”

“What is the past when compared to the present? What is an heirloom when compared with my sister?” Kuei said rhetorically, using the cloth to dab at the shallow wound on your knee and then tying it around the joint before helping you stand. “There you go. Does it still hurt quite as terribly?”

“Not as much,” you said. He rubbed your round cheek with the back of his hand.

“Good,” he said. “Servant, tell Long Feng I must meet with him immediately. There are some changes I wish to make.”

After that day, every hallway and every room in the Earth Palace had its stone floors covered in a plush, woven carpet.

“What do you want, Kuei?” you said, striding into his room and sitting primly across from him, folding your hands in your lap and crossing your legs at the ankles. Kuei had somehow squeezed both himself and his bear into a single armchair, but it was clearly an uncomfortable fit for the both of them. You supposed it did not matter to you, though, so you did not react beyond arching a single brow at the questionable arrangement of their two bodies and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Is it a crime for a brother to want to see his sister every once in a while?” Kuei said.

“You never call me just to see me,” you said. “Normally, it’s when you have bad news or when you want something from me. Let us skip over the mindless chatter this time and get to the point. Which is the reason you demanded my presence in your chambers?”

“It’s neither,” he said, looking at the ground. “Or, in some sense, it is both.”

“Kuei…” you said, and then you sighed. “Just tell me. You only need to do that much, and I won’t be angry, but you must speak the truth, and say it fully.”

“Bosco,” he said, which prompted a sleepy, mumbling groan from the bear. It was the kind of noise that might’ve been frightening if you were unused to it, but to you, it was high, reedy, thin — nothing like even the mere rise and fall of Quynh’s breath. “He is lonely.”

“If you’re going to ask me to babysit your bear, then I’ll have to tell you to save your breath,” you said. “That is one thing I will refuse you. There are people you pay to do exactly that kind of thing, so why would you foist the duty upon me?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” he said. “It’s not something difficult. Well, it’s not taxing in that it won’t take very much time nor effort, but you might wish you didn’t have to do it, so it could be considered an unfair demand.”

“I see,” you said warily, knowing that anything more might be seen as agreement to an unknown decision.

“I want to send out an expedition!” he said.

“An expedition? Of what sort?” you said.

“To find a mate for Bosco, or, if not a mate, then a member of his own species who can be his friend. Imagine if you were stuck in a palace and only had beings entirely unlike you as company!” he said.

“It’s funny, actually, because I don’t really have to imagine…” you said under your breath.

“What?” Kuei said. You shook your head.

“Nothing,” you said.

“Anyways, that’s Bosco’s reality! Don’t you pity him? He must be so isolated and depressed,” he said.

If you did not know him so well, you would’ve thought he was doing it on purpose, but Kuei was so guileless that the only explanation was obliviousness to the extent that it could breed such irony.

“I’m sure it’s like that,” you said.

“That’s why I want to try and find another bear,” he said.

“I thought he was the only one to exist in the world?” you reminded him. Kuei had the nerve to roll his eyes at you.

“Do you think he just sprang from the ground like a tree? He must’ve had parents, which implies a larger population exists somewhere, even if it is a place we have not yet thought to look. Besides, the stories of Quynh must be rooted in some fact, so there is further proof that others exist,” he said.

“How many times must I tell you? The story of Quynh is not a story but the truth!” you said.

“You can say it as many times as you please,” Kuei said. “I know you particularly enjoy the sound of your voice, and I would do anything for you, you know, which includes allowing you to preach at me so that you may listen to yourself speak. If that comes in the form of sermons on Quynh and her nature, then I suppose it is just the kind of sacrifice that an elder brother must make.”

“You know what?” you said. “You’re the one who supposedly needs my help, so you ought not to be insulting me! What if I say no now?”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking you yet!” he said.

“Perhaps not, but please note that your chances of being rejected have increased exponentially,” you said. Kuei scoffed.

“I need someone else to sign the promissory note,” he said. “The Minister of the Treasury refuses to lend to me anymore.”

“Why would you need to take out a loan for something like that?” you said. “We have more than enough money in our family vaults to fund an expedition of that nature, even if I think it’s something of a waste of money.”

“We’re not allowed to access them,” Kuei said. This was news to you; after all, you had never really had much cause to inspect the family vaults, so you had not even known that you were denied the wealth of your ancestors. “Long Feng says we aren’t responsible enough to handle that much money yet.”

“So you’ve been funding your errands and expeditions with promissory notes?” you said.

“Yes,” Kuei said.

“Have you paid any back?” you said. He shook his head.

“No, we can’t visit the treasury, remember?” he said. “What money would I pay them back with?”

You fought back the urge to scream at him, forcing yourself to take deep breaths in the pursuit of calming down.

“Well, your salary, for one,” you said. “Even I’m paid some amount, just for being the princess, and you’re the king, so you should be getting more.”

“It’s nowhere near enough,” he said.

“Kuei,” you said through gritted teeth. “How much debt is the crown in?”

“Um…” he looked at Bosco nervously, like he was searching for a protector. The bear did not so much as blink at him; you wondered how your brother felt, knowing that the creature he had spent so much money on had such a lackadaisical reaction to his distress. “Perhaps it’s better if you don’t know, Y/N.”

“Yet you want me to sign a promissory note on your behalf?” you said. “Without even knowing how much debt our family is in, you want me to put us into more?”

“Long Feng said it’s alright,” Kuei said. “In fact, he was the one who suggested I ask you.”

“Does he have a plan for paying it back?” you said. Long Feng was Kuei’s most trusted advisor, and though you chafed against the tight leash he kept on you, you had to admit that he had done what he could to ensure the kingdom’s safety, even through Kuei’s ineptitude.

“Actually, he does,” Kuei said. “We’re going to implement a tourism tax. In recent years, the number of visitors to Ba Sing Se has skyrocketed; by levying a tax on those individuals as they enter the city, we’ll easily generate enough revenue to get rid of our debt entirely!”

It was a sound idea, but you were still, for some reason, uneasy about it. You couldn’t place your finger on why, but there was something holding you back from just agreeing as you normally would’ve.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not yet,” you said. “How about we strike a deal? Once the existing debt has been paid off, I will agree to sign a new promissory note.”

“But Y/N!” he whined.

“It’s the best you’ll get out of me,” you said. “Either agree to abide by those rules or get someone else to take on the responsibility.”

Stubbornness was a family trait; you both possessed it in equal measure, which was why he knew that you were not fibbing. He jutted his chin out in defiance, but it was in the way of an obstinate child forced to acquiesce.

“Very well,” he said. “The debt will be gone within days! I will tell Long Feng to raise the tax. If people can afford to travel here, then they certainly have the coins to spare.”

“If that’s what you think is best,” you said. “As for me, I’ll be off.”

“Back to your room already?” Kuei said. “What do you even do in there nowadays?”

“The same as usual,” you said. “Read. Study. I must be as well-educated as possible, in all aspects, so I learn of history, and etiquette, and politics, and the fine arts, and other such subjects.”

“Are you off to read or to study, then?” he said.

“I’m reading,” you said. “Seven Soldiers of Agni, to be precise.”

“Didn’t you read that years ago?” Kuei said. “I remember you talking about it back then.”

“Yes, but I just — um, I just happened to see it on my bookshelf, which made me recall how much I adored it, so I’ve been rereading it,” you said. You could hardly tell Kuei the real reason why you were rereading Seven Soldiers of Agni: because Lee had told you to.

Seven Soldiers of Agni was, in your opinion, a far better story than The Mask of the Blue Spirit. You had to give Lee this much; besides his opinions on the ending of The Mask of the Blue Spirit, he had good taste in literature. You had been enjoying immersing yourself in the world of the seven Fire Nation ex-elites, who had each been sent out on personal quests by their Fire Lord in wake of an embarrassing defeat in battle, so that they could regain their honors and their statuses as Soldiers of Agni.

The passageway Quynh opened for you seemed short this time. Or maybe it was that you were rushing — meeting Kuei had taken longer than you had hoped it would, and if you were not quick enough, you’d miss the lighting of the lanterns that you had promised the Blue Spirit you’d be present to see.

Luckily, the spirit realm was on your side today. The door opened directly in front of the fountain, and you stumbled out of it in relief, nearly tripping over the uneven cobblestones of the plaza as you did so. Pressing your cool hands to your cheeks, which were warmed from the exertion of running through the passageway, you took a deep breath to settle your racing heart.

Scanning the vicinity, you saw nothing but the men lighting the lanterns with their stick-like torches. You should not have been disappointed by this, but you could not help yourself. There was no reason to imagine he’d even understood your cryptic words, but you had really been hoping he would’ve.

You sat on a nearby bench, watching as one by one, each lantern was lit. It was so unlike the eerie shine of Quynh’s Den; the crystals had a greenness to their glow, a cool toned lighting that washed everything in a ghostly tint. On the other hand, these lanterns were warm. The fires within them were gold and yellow and orange, benevolent in their hue, dancing cheerfully in the slight breeze of the evening. It made you wonder if the entire Fire Nation was composed entirely of people like this, people who were as bright and gentle as the element they lay claim to.

You didn’t know where he came from, but it remained that one moment, you were admiring the lanterns, and the next, you were turning to see the Blue Spirit sitting stiffly at your side, gloved hands clasped together, back straight as a pillar. And though you should’ve been startled, you could not help the smile from creeping over your face.

“Hello, Blue Spirit,” you said. “I thought you wouldn’t come. I’m sure you have more important things to do with your time.”

He shrugged.

“Well, if you’re anything like the man from the story, you’d be off saving the unfortunate,” you said. “Though I don’t know how many unfortunate there are in Ba Sing Se.”

He shook his head, though you weren’t sure which part, exactly, he was denying. But it mattered little; the end result was that he was there, sitting beside you, watching the reflections of the lanterns on the rippling water.

For a moment, you were both silent, and then slowly, carefully, as if you were entreating a wounded animal, you placed your hand atop his. His fingers twitched, but he did not pull away, only tilting his head to look at you quizzically. You did not move to interlock your fingers with his, simply letting your palm rest against the back of his hand like a whisper.

“Thank you,” you said, swallowing back your shyness in favor of honesty. “Thank you for coming. I don’t know who you are…but you really are someone admirable. I’m sure you have many better things to be doing, but yet you are here, with me. With a girl who does not even know what it means to have a person as a companion. I’m sure…I’m sure that I’m not the most entertaining person you could be spending your time with, yet you are spending it with me regardless.”

He raised his other hand and flicked you on the forehead. You scowled at him, but it was a weak expression of anger, barely able to disguise the rush of embarrassed pleasure you felt at the scolding form of acceptance.

“Do you truly mean that?” you said. It was definitely naive of you to assign such significance to a person you were only meeting for the third time now, a person who wore a mask and who never spoke, but you could not stop yourself from doing it. You could not stop yourself from wanting to know his answer.

A short, sharp nod. Your eyes widened, and you looked away, biting your lip, your shoulders drawing up to your ears as a way to shield yourself. You weren’t sure how to answer these things, how you were meant to react to them. The territory you were venturing into was entirely foreign, and you wanted to shy away as much as you went to leap into it headfirst.

Abruptly, without warning, the Blue Spirit’s fingers were wrapping around your wrist and he was yanking you towards him. You yelped in surprise at the firmness of his grip, but he did not let you protest, using his arm to shield your head as a boulder came flying through the air, whistling past where you had just been sitting.

“No,” you whispered as you realized you had been found once again. It only took a cursory glance for you to realize that the Blue Spirit had foregone his swords, too, which meant that you were in more than a bit of trouble. “I didn’t think they would be so daring as to attack me in the middle of — oh!”

The Blue Spirit pulled you after him at such a speed that you were breathless as you tried to keep up. Fisting the fabric of your skirt in one hand, you left the other limp in the air, its wrist still held fast by the Blue Spirit, who used it to guide you along behind him.

He knew the alleyways so well that he did not even hesitate as he charged along them, knowing intuitively where to step, where to leap slightly so that his feet did not catch, and though you did not possess this kind of knowledge, his own experience applied to you. You did not think about where you were going nor what you were doing; instead, you just followed after the Blue Spirit, trusting him blindly, without even the time to question if it was the right choice or not.

You were being chased. You could hear him behind you, the bricks of the road rising up to assault you as you went, and it was only thanks to the Blue Spirit’s dexterity that you were able to avoid the attacks. It was the same person as the night you had met the Blue Spirit, you were certain of it, which meant that he knew who you were, that this was even more targeted than you had previously understood.

“I don’t understand it!” you panted out as you barreled into yet another narrow alleyway. “I don’t understand why he’s out for my blood like this! How can I have enemies when I haven’t even left the palace before?”

The Blue Spirit did not respond, rounding a corner and then pausing before using a flower pot to boost himself and, consequently, you, onto the roof of a nearby shop. Hooking his hands under your arms to drag you up with him, he held a finger to his lips.

Your head spun as you realized how high you were, how precarious your perch was. The two of you were balancing on the peak of the roof, which was hardly wide enough for your two feet to remain side-by-side. You wobbled with uncertainty, but the Blue Spirit had not yet let go of you, and at the unsure movement, he only held on tighter.

“Where are they?” the voice of the man trying to kill you said as he rounded the same corner you had just crossed. “Princess Y/N and that defender of hers!”

You couldn’t tell who he was talking to, as by all accounts he seemed to be alone. Still, he did not continue running, skidding to a stop and inspecting the area. It was only a matter of time before he’d reach the natural conclusion and look up, but before that could happen, the Blue Spirit was once again taking a hold of your wrist and then running along the ridge, pulling you along with him, though in your right mind you’d never do anything so dangerous.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you said as you both reached the end of the roof and it became evident what he was implying you had to do next. “Blue Spirit, did you hear me? I’m not the kind of person that does these things!”

The force of his eye roll could be felt even through his mask. To be sure, it was rather a silly concern — it was either jumping or giving yourself up to a certain death at the hands of your assailants. Still, though, you thought that you rather preferred your chances with the assassins. There was a chance they’d be merciful when killing you, and certainly they’d be more merciful than the ground by far.

But the Blue Spirit did not give you the chance to think about it. Actually, he did not give you a chance to do anything, jumping first, his momentum hauling you along with him. He had the good sense to catch you and stabilize you via his hands on your shoulders, allowing you a precious moment to breathe before you were off again, flitting from rooftop to rooftop in the same manner, as if you two were simply small birds playing in the night.

Only once you had been going for an impossibly long time did he slow his relentless pace and then finally cease it altogether. Helping you down to the ground, he allowed you to lean on him as you gasped for air.

“You are very reckless,” you said. “But that recklessness has saved my life, so I shall not reprimand you for it. Anyways, I suppose I owe you an explanation, considering this is the second time you’ve had to rescue me from that man.”

The Blue Spirit nodded. You took another second to calm your mind and your nerves, sighing when your heart continued its frantic beating and your chest remained tight. But at least you could speak normally now, so, gathering your wits about you, you straightened in order to stand of your own volition instead of his generosity.

“My father was killed by an Earthbending assassin shortly before I was born, as I’m sure you know — it’s not exactly some great secret, considering it happened in the city and not the palace. Although I have no reason to believe it, I cannot help but think that these recent attempts on my own life are somehow related to that incident,” you said.

You weren’t sure if that illuminated anything, but the Blue Spirit did not seem confused. Still, you felt like you had to explain further, perhaps defend your family’s name — or, at least, your own.

“I’m not sure what the reasoning is,” you said. “Nor how he and his accomplices know the truth of my identity. What good would come about from killing me? But they seem set upon it. Perhaps it is because I am the only one of my family who they have a chance at reaching. Kuei is ever safe in the palace, so it could be that they are simply capitalizing on an opportunity. It doesn’t answer the question of how they know who I am, though…”

You trailed off, lost in thought, and it was only then that you became aware of an awful, droning din that had been in the background while you were talking but now grew forefront in the absence of conversation. Tapping the Blue Spirit on the shoulder, you made a general motion in the direction of the noise.

“Wherever have we ended up, anyways? Do you know what that sound is?” you said.

Another nod of affirmation. You waited for him to, in his own way, elaborate, but he did not move. It was as if he was embarrassed or ashamed or frightened — something along those lines.

“You do not wish for me to know what it is?” you said.

He shook his head. You furrowed your brow.

“You think I will not like what I find? But it is my own city. Should I not, then, know? Whether good or bad, I ought to be aware of these things,” you said.

Glancing around cagily for a minute, he finally, reluctantly extended his hand to you. There were no words required for you to understand what he meant: it was your decision. Whatever you saw, it was your choice to see it.

You did not run this time. You slunk around, snakes instead of birds, ghosts through the city that were not being pursued but were instead the ones in pursuit, seeking something out that, according to the Blue Spirit, was better off not sought in the first place.

It was an archway. Members of the Royal Army stood in front of it, their faces and postures unyielding, their ranks only breaking to allow people in occasionally before immediately reforming into an impenetrable wall. They were silent, though; the source of the clamor was the mass of people on the other side of them.

“What is going on here?” you said, though this was a problem that was beyond the scale of the Blue Spirit’s hand gestures. “You there. What is the situation? Why are these people in such distress?”

“You don’t know?” said the man you had addressed. He was standing behind a stone counter, sorting change into neat piles, but at your voice, he glanced up at you. “Well, it’s a new policy, so it’s no surprise.”

“What new policy?” you said.

“That tourism tax,” the man said, voice dripping with acidic sarcasm. “Most of these tourists can’t afford to pay it, you know. Damn Earth King. Who cares about that bear of his when his own subjects are like this? Though you didn’t hear that from me, missy.”

Long Feng had always told you that tourists were wealthy people who came to Ba Sing Se for fashion. You had imagined them to be dripping in lush fabrics and glimmering jewels, arriving in carriages drawn by only the finest of steeds or palanquins carried by only the strongest of men. When Kuei had told you that there was another tourism tax to be implemented, you had not rallied against it, for in your mind, tourists were people who could drop thirty gold coins and not feel a difference in the weight of their purses.

That is to say, when you imagined tourists, you, in a way, imagined yourself. Yourself, if only you were free from the palace. Yourself, if you could visit Ba Sing Se with your own identity instead of in the guise of a commoner, sneaking through Quynh’s doors. But these people did not resemble that image at all. These people were nothing like you.

Their clothes were worn and old, their shoes ragged — if they were so fortunate as to have shoes at all. Most were barefoot, their heels cracked and bleeding, their nails jagged and peeling. Dust and sweat caked on their faces and sank into the lines of their weathered expressions, and there was a wild desperation to the way they clawed at one another, cupped their hands together, begged and begged to be allowed entrance to the great city.

One man was limping; the flesh of his right leg was the bubbling pink and yellow of a burn wound, though a purplish-black infection stained the edges. A young girl was trying in vain to help him walk, but the others paid him no mind as they surged forward, pleading with the soldiers, who remained steadfast in their refusal.

“Please!” a woman shouted, baby in her arms. “Take my child! For — for any amount of money, take my child!”

“Is she selling her baby?” you said in horror, clenching the Blue Spirit’s hand so hard that, were he not wearing gloves, he’d surely be scarred with the imprint of your nails. The man behind the counter shook his head.

“She’s offering to pay someone to take him with them, if they have enough to pay the tax to enter the city,” he said. “Any amount of money. She’ll sell herself, if that’s what it takes, just as long as her child makes it into Ba Sing Se.”

“Why won’t they let them in?” you said. “That man, he will lose his leg if he does not get medical attention immediately! And the child…it needs food. Malnutrition will stunt its growth, if it can even survive those conditions.”

“Ask his royal majesty,” the man scoffed. “He’s gone and raised the entrance fee again, apparently so that he can fund more expeditions to find a friend for that beast of his. No one can afford it, at least not the people at this gate. It’s not a problem at the monorail station or the other gates, where the wealthier refugees arrive, but at places like this, it’s causing issues.”

“Refugees?” you said. “But what cause do they have to seek refuge?”

The man paled, looking around nervously and then shaking his head.

“Of course, nothing,” he said. “They’re just tourists.”

“But you said—” you began, though you were cut off by the man wagging his finger at you.

“I don’t want to end up in a bad way with the Dai Li, do you hear me? I didn’t say anything! If you’re not here to gawk at their troubles, then what business do you have here?” he said.

“I — I suppose that I don’t have any,” you said.

“Then best be off before something happens,” he said. “They look about ready to revolt, and if it comes to that, then you’re right in the line of fire — I mean, boulders! Boulders. Nothing to do with fire.”

Based on the set of the Blue Spirit’s shoulders, he wanted to take the man’s recommendation. This wasn’t any kind of place for someone like you, after all, someone so sheltered and looked after. How could you, who had never wanted for anything, empathize with these people who had lost everything? How could you, who lived in a palace, understand the pain of those who had no homes at all? It was futile. You were Princess Y/N. You were — you were —

“You’re just gonna stand there?” the man said. “Make up your mind, and hurry up with it! Things are getting messy already, and you’re just dithering about! Seriously, you’re about as useful as that glass princess.”

“Glass princess?” you said. The man snorted, and that was when the Blue Spirit tugged on your hand in earnest, but you planted your feet against him. This was something you wanted to know.

“Have you been living in a cave your entire life?” he said. “Yes, the Glass Princess. The Earth King’s dearly beloved sister, who is too delicate for this world. Not a soul alive has seen her. It’s like she’s made of glass or something — hence, you know, why everyone calls her that. Really, it’s hard to tell which one is more contemptible between the two. One sibling who makes his subjects’ lives harder and the other who sits by and watches it happen. Just as long as she is comfortable. Just as long as her own life is not impacted. She’d watch everyone suffer, I’d wager, just as long as she could keep wearing her pretty dresses and fancy jewels.”

“Is that what they think of — of her?” you said. The man shoved his fist in his mouth and shook his head rapidly, eyes widening with panic.

“Of course not,” he said. “All hail the royal family! Please, beautiful, generous, kind-hearted miss, do not report me for treason. Please, I have children!”

You paid no attention to his fervent declarations of loyalty, gazing out at the crowd. These people hated you. It was not your differences which formed the chasm between you and them; it was that they genuinely despised you. You were the princess made of glass, the one who cared not for her subjects, the one who knew nothing about their plight and had no desire to learn, either. That was what they thought of you. That was who you were to them.

The man’s leg gave out, the girl falling to her knees and shielding him with her body from the trampling feet of the crowd. The woman’s cries grew louder, the baby’s body rattling periodically with coughs, but still no one took it from her arms, because no one could afford it. No one could gain entrance to Ba Sing Se, let alone with a child in tow, so why would they take her up on the offer?

“Guards!” you shouted, wrenching free from the Blue Spirit and storming towards the line of men. “I demand you let these people in at once!”

“Who are you to give such a command?” one of the guards said. He wore a captain’s uniform, but he was still young, fresh-faced. He must’ve been newly promoted. It explained why he was so set on following protocol, at any rate.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” you said, and then you took out the money you had thought you would give to the Blue Spirit last night. “This will be enough. This will be enough to let anyone through this gate. Until they stop coming, they will be allowed in, at my expense. You shan’t charge them even a copper!”

The captain made to argue, but then he opened the bag and his jaw dropped. You glared at him with your hands on your hips as he slowly closed it and bowed at you.

“As you say, lady,” he said. “Let them in!”

The guards parted, and the crowd rushed in, like they did not believe the good fortune would last and they had to capitalize on it while they could. It was only the quick reaction of the Blue Spirit pulling you to safety that you were not bowled over, and you patted him on the arm in thanks.

“We should go,” you said. “What I’ve just done is bound to raise suspicion. Very few people have access to the kind of money I’ve just thrown at them, and there will be investigations soon, I have no doubt. It will be better if we are not caught at the scene by those who have questions they need answered. Not if I ever want to return to the city again.”

The two of you vanished just in time. When the Dai Li agents arrived to question the captain you had paid, he could only point to the darkness and say that the benefactor had disappeared, that the girl and her blue-masked companion must’ve been nothing more than a pair of spirits, perhaps sent by the long-absent Quynh for the good of her former kingdom.

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart @blacky-rose @shizko @marsbars09 @happyplaidpersonfestival @catborglar @camilleverreault @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog

[spiderine]

I just want to tell you a story about my family, a lost photograph, and a lost child.

I think a lot of a photo I lost many years ago. It's a simple photo of my mom and my Aunt (we'll call her "Benni") as small children, standing next to each other. Aunt Benni is holding a handbag.

When my mom showed me the photo, she said, "Benni was always hanging on to that handbag. She wouldn't go anywhere without it."

So. Once upon a time, at the end of the 19th century, a family was driven out of Kyiv, so they went to one place they knew they could find acceptance: Vienna, a very cosmopolitan city with a large Jewish population. The family found a home, became successful and they lived happily ever after for a generation or so.

Specifically, until 1938.

Yeah. So.

To make a very long and horrific story very short so we can focus on that photo, "fortunately" (in an appalling, heart-rending way) there was something called the Kindertransport. England managed to smuggle 10,000 Jewish children out of the occupied lands and get them to England.

Yes, Benni was one of them. She was three years old. Like many of those children, her entire family was consequently slaughtered and forever wiped from the face of the earth. Unlike many of those children, she had an address to go to. Hundreds of kind, heroic strangers arranged for Benni to cross an entire ocean to find her family's distant cousins who lived in Brooklyn, where she was raised as my mom's sister.

Aunt Benni died decades ago. We Jews say, "may their memory be for a blessing." And it is. Decades later, on another continent, in another millenium, her descendents are thriving. You better believe more than one is named Benni.

Y'know what? Fuck this fake name shit. Her name was Barbara Victor (z'l), and she survived. Her family was not wiped from the face of the earth because she lived, and so did her children and children's children.

But she always, always carried a bag with her essentials, even at the age of six. Because she knew in her bones that one day she would have to run again.

thanks for listening.

[askinkiskarma]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ɪɪɪ - ᴛʜɪɢʜ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ

pairing: dilf!jake x human!reader (part of False God)

➽ a/n: i wrote this literally an hour before posting so i hope you besties enjoy x i was gonna reuse an older jake drabble but @jakexneytiri inspired this, so blame her hahahaha. dilf!jake will never not make me feral and weepy, much like our reader is. this drabble is also loosely based in False God, because the dynamic seemed to fit them. anyway i will stop rambling enjoyyy x

➽ words: 600 words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: slightly mean!jake, dacryphilia, pet names (doll, kid), p in v

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

“Daddy…” the half mewl, half-whine you let out wasn’t lost on Jake, who, whilst couldn’t quite see your face, immediately perked at the name that will never cease to send blood shooting straight to his cock. He didn’t know how there was any blood left in his body, his erection so hard it was painful, twitching and throbbing, begging for your tight little cunt to wrap around him, to milk him 'til the last drop, 'til his seed was forever imprinted on your walls. But now wasn’t the time - patience is a virtue, one Jake has had to learn in time, in his 43 years on Earth and maybe even more so here, on Pandora. You weren’t ready. You were so small - too small -, a tiny, ineffectual human who somehow managed to pull him away from the life he’s built, with your beauty and your brains, with your inquisitive mind and your warm, inviting heart. You needed an orgasm, or three, to get your pretty pussy ready for him, for him to breed you like he envisioned and give into his worst, most delirious fantasies. 

So here you were, after your third orgasm, still pouncing vigorously on his leg, that was glistening even in the dim light peering through the curtains, the sound of your moans, mingled perfectly with the slapping of skin on skin, enough to drive him into a frenzy. 

“What’s wrong, doll? Tell daddy what’s on your mind.” 

The hands rested forcefully on either one of your hips, pressing your swollen folds to his lustrous, muscular, tensed thigh released their deathly grip on you, settling instead for a comforting caress of your abdomen, drawing circles into the plush of your skin.

“You’re being mean.” 

Your sniffles spurred him on, cock dripping in pre-cum and spilling down his balls, and he found himself reaching for your armpits, twirling you around like one of those Barbies that you had hanging on your bookshelf, a keepsake of a life you’ll never have. You winced softly as you were placed back down on his lower abdomen, finding steadiness on his abs, marvelling once more, as you always found yourself doing, at his body that felt carved by Eywa herself, at his bulging muscles, at the way he was able to make your body scream and writhe in the fine line between pleasure and pain until you were a weeping mess, much like right now. 

His thumbs were gentle as they wiped the tears from your face, but there was a smugness to him, a mischievous glint haunting his beautiful irises. 

“Went a little too far now, did I, kid? D’you need to get fucked dumb on daddy’s cock now?”

You moaned in between pitiful nods, cunt desperate to be filled to the brim with him, the emptiness too overwhelming to be denied anymore. As he raised you once more, your heart fluttered, excitement coursing through your veins as he aligned his cock to your needy entrance. The tip was all you needed to feel stretched beyond belief already, and your head fell backwards, eyes shut in the desire that pushed to the side the pain when the reward was all you’ve ever wanted. 

“That’s right - fu-uck! There you go, princess. Let daddy make it up to you, huh?"

You could think about the consequences of your actions tomorrow, but right now, all you can think about is him, and the next 3 orgasms he’d coax out of you before you’d inevitably pass out of exhaustion, cock drunk and satisfied, as always. 

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[unidentifiedly]

Eventful Morning

Micah Bell x reader

- In which Micah almost scares the reader to death. Or at the very least, scares them enough for it to have consequences.

"Tip, tip, tip" Soft sounds of rain droplets made their way into your ears.

"No, no. Just a few more minutes." You thought to yourself, unable to open your eyes just yet. Slowly but surely you adjusted to the idea of waking up and opened your eyes. The off white canvas tent filtered the morning light beautifully. Glancing around yourself, looking for your favourite blouse and overdress, your gaze fell on the small dusty mirror in front of you, perched atop a trunk and supported by a stack of hardcover copies of romance novels.

In the mirror, yourself staring right back. You glanced at the intricately engraved brass pocket watch by the side of the bed. The watch itself was a birthday gift from Arthur a couple months back. The arms reaching toward four and twelve, it was way too early to get up and start one's day. Yet, here you were.

Softly humming to yourself you tied your hair up lazily with a ribbon, deciding to spend the hours of the morning organizing your safe haven. The gang had only recently arrived at the new spot, Horseshoe Overlook they called it. Far too east for Arthur's liking, but to you about anything sounded better than heading back up those cold mountains toward Colter. You were used to it at this point, the constant moving around. It was a way of life that held you tightly in its grip.

That being said, the new camp was still unorganized and there was sure to be work around that needed doing. This was a chance to have some private time, peace and quiet for yourself.

Sorting through the mementos and trinkets from throughout the years was quick, you wiped the dust off of the little mirror with the corner of your nightgown. Gathering up the few clothes you had laying around and neatly folding them up you realized the growing pile of fabric by the end of your bed was clothes and linen that needed washing, not something that should just be sorted back into the trunks right away. "I think it was Charles who mentioned there was a river just west of here?" Mumbling to yourself, you picked up the dirty clothes and put them in a basket, not bothering to dress up all the way. "Everyone will be asleep at this hour anyways, and if not, it'll be Miss Grimshaw awake. It's nothing that'll bother her too much." Pulling on your trusty leather boots you untied the strings holding the fabric flap door of your tent shut. A prompt walk to your horse, a beautiful paint mare, and you were off along with your basket of laundry. With the carelessness, soft hums and the skip on your step you failed to notice a pair of eyes watch you leave the camp. The observer finished smoking his cicarette, let his legs fall from the log they were resting on while chucking the cigarette butt over his shoulder, and rubbed his hands together. What on on God's green Earth were you up to this early in the morning, and barely dressed to boot?

The sound of a running stream reached your ears fast. Charles had of course been right, even a blind man would notice the Dakota River from this close by. Hopping off your horse and tying the reins to a nearby tree you swung the basket on your elbow and kicked the boots off your feet, walking straight into the cold running water. Oh how sweet the feeling was! In a low point of the river, a rock stood taller than the surface of the water, so you took a seat and began the chore.

"Eeeasy there boy" Micah huffed to Baylock, staying well hidden in the trees, observing you from afar. A smirk spread on his lips as he saw your boots and gun belt scattered on the riverbank, and you sitting on a rock in the middle of the water, with your back facing him. Dismounting with an agile leap, he slowly but surely started making his way toward you.

Completely lost in your activity and the sweet warm sunshine of the spring morning you were singing to yourself, getting ready to leave. Looking at the last blouse, and squeezing the extra water out of it a surprisingly strong wave hit the rock and splashed water all over you, soaking your thin white linen undergarments. "Fuck!" You stood up and turned around, screaming out loud.

"Mic- Mr.Bell! What the fuck are you doing?"

Keeping his eyes locked on your body, his smirk widened, his arms reaching out toward you. "Just call me Micah, and I could ask ya the same thing, sweetcheeks. Now come on here." He beckoned with his hands, but you refused.

"No, I don't think so, you can't just creep up on me like that Mr Bell. I could have dropped my laundry basket, or worse, fallen down and then drowned out of shock!"

You took a step back, lifting the now heavier basket full of wet clothes up to rest against your hipbone.

For every step you took back, Micah took one forward, and the man had both the advantage of longer legs and facing the direction he was going. It didn't take long for things to go south.

"I'm warning you Mr Bell, I'm going to tell Arthur about this, and you know he is not going to be happy!" You tried in vain.

"Hrmph. The cowpoke ain't got nothing to do with how I conduct my business with a lady such as yerself."

You were taken aback, "what did you just call me? You never- Ah!"

Slipping on a rock and falling back, you reached out to Micah for support, and closed your eyes in anticipation of the cold hard surface of the river. The sensation never came.

"Gotcha." Eyeing down at you was Micah, who effortlessly supported your almost naked body by your waist and left arm. "Now how about ya let me show you a good time as a thanks?" One of his eyebrows rising up and his face forming a seductive expression.

You, however, were too occupied to notice or care. "Micah you idiot! All of my clothes are fucking gone!"

And indeed, the river was decorated with the various pieces of clothing running merrily downstream, way too fast to catch up to.

"Well, ya won't be needin' any of those for th- Ow!" "Shut the fuck up and help me get dressed before anyone else notices!"

The ride to the camp was one of the worst you had ever experienced. For Micah, it was the opposite. A prideful smirk on his cocky face, throwing you the occasional remark about the curve of your waist and ass, and how good you looked in just his jacket as you rode, and making no attempts to be quiet and discreet as you arrived in camp. You tried your best to ignore him and get away from the situation as quickly as possible. Hopping off your horse, not even bothering to tie the rains to the hitchpost, you walked briskly toward your tent only to run straight into Sean.

"Oi, watch where ya- Y/N, wow, let me tell ya, could not see this one comin'!" A smirk instantly grew on his face, and he slapped a hand on Micah's jacket, on your shoulder.

"Sean it's NOT what it looks like, and don't you dare mention this to anyone either!" You whisper yelled while taking off the jacket, exposing your still wet and thus transparent garments. Sean blushed bright red, poor guy, and you stomped right in to your tent.

Not being able to face the rest of the day, the longer you stayed in your tent the more intimidating the prospect of leaving felt. Surely Sean had told everyone about what he saw, and you'd be mocked til eternity.

No, there was no way you'd ever leave that tent again.

A few hours later you were starving for a snack and stuck your head out to find the main area empty. Great! An opening. As soon as you stepped out, a voice rang: "Y/N!" You turned around, mouth open to start defending yourself, only to face a very noticeably beat-up looking Sean. "Listen, sorry about the earlier, I never saw nothing, alright?" You nodded in confusion and he smiled, thanked you quickly and scurried off. You got the food you were after, and returned to your tent to eat it. There, on your cot, rested a shirt and a dress, folded in a way which looked like a very bad attempt, with a piece of paper on top. There, in barely legible rough handwriting:

"The idiot won't bother ya about it. M"

You smiled to yourself, feeling the fabric of the clothes. Both of good quality fabrics, a white undershirt and a red simple dress. Just like the ones you usually wear every day.

Observing from a distance as you emerged from your tent in your red dress, Micah Bell smiled to himself as he sharpened his knife, softly murmuring to himself: "Gotcha ta call me by my name at least. That's a start."

note: Yay! My first ever piece of writing I've published online :) do suggest if you get any good ideas and like my writing style.

[adoreeenina]

I wanna be yours - Ch. 7

Relationships: Recom! Miles Quaritch x Sully! Reader x Recom! Lyle Wainfleet

WC: 2.9k

Series Summary: ~~~ 𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝕋𝕨𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕁𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪.

“How can you possibly be okay with this?”

Quaritch heavily sighs not be able to keep eye contact with Lyle. Their relationship is still new, and they’re keeping it a secret for now from everyone. But a year ago, he had a one night stand with Paz Socorro, it meant nothing, it was supposed to be a one time thing. Quaritch forgets his actions always has consequences and now he has a son he never wanted. He doesn’t have time to be a father, he never wanted to be, especially with Socorro.

Lyle found out and he’s pissed, and he has every right to be. Quaritch never told him about impregnating Socorro, he lied, not only that but Socorro didn’t even want the kid either, she didn’t want the responsibility. Poor Miles Jr. Is being taken care of by different people who are too busy with their jobs to take care of him.

The breaking point for Lyle? Quaritch tells Lyle the kid and Socorro is going back to earth.

“I didn’t want anything to do with the brat!”

Lyle scoffs at Quaritch response.

“Socorro neglects the poor kid here, she won’t pay any attention to him on earth, that kid needs a father, Miles”

Lyle doesn’t approve of this, the kid is innocent in all of this.

Lyle been stressed out, with the war that might happen with the Na’vi and fucking Jake Sully, Dr. Augustine, and the other science puke that he doesn’t bother to remember the name of.

“They can’t send babies on Cryo, dumbass” Lyle seethes.

Quaritch shakes in head in disbelief.

“What? You want to take the kid?” The sarcastic question made Lyle pause, Quaritch stays silent when he sees Lyle contemplating about it, making him wish he could take it back.

“Lyle”, Quaritch warns, “if you take that kid, I don’t want any part of it”

Lyle eyes widen, what happened? This wasn’t the man he fell in love with, yes he could be a could hearted bastard to other but with him, he’s the opposite. He’s so patient and loving to him, and only to him. They might’ve not talked about having kids but Lyle surely wanted kids in the near future.

But will he even be a good father for this kid? He grew up with a single mother who did made many sacrifices for him and his younger sister with no complaints, who loved and nurture them. His father died by mugger when he was 10 but he remembers he was abusive towards his mother and him. He didn’t want to be like his father, he wanted to be like his mother, to love unconditionally and nurture his own kids, and this might be his chance.

“You’re going to leave me if I do?” Lyle throws his hands up. Quaritch looks away not wanting to answer that. Quaritch loves Lyle, of course he does, but he’s not ready to be a father, he never wanted to be. He grew up with an abusive father who abused him and his mother. What if he turns out like him? No, this is for the best.

Quaritch silence is all the confirmation Lyle needed, Lyle nods his head. His eyes gloss as he tries to fight back tears.

“Then so be it” Lyle finally says as he sniffs, he wipes a tear that falls. The action breaks Quaritch heart but he doesn’t act on it.

Quaritch heart drops as he silently watch Lyle walk towards the door, he places his hand on the console and wait for the door to open.

Before he steps out, he looks back at Quaritch. Both not hiding how much this is breaking each others heart, but one of them is too prideful.

“We’re done” with that, Lyle steps out of the room, leaving Quaritch alone, regretting ever letting the love of his life leave.

Lyle eyes snap open as he sits up. He looks around seeing his laying in his tent. Lyle sighs tiredly as he wipes his face with hands but feels his hand wet, he pulls them back confusingly before touching his cheeks with his finger tips. Lyle realizes he was crying.

What the hell kind of dream was that? No it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory, one of his memories.

This wasn’t new, in some nights Lyle would dream of his human counterpart memories, memories that aren’t his own but the feeling are, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Since the moment he met Spider, he had this overwhelming feeling of wanting to protect him. At first he didn’t understand but it didn’t take long for memories to haunt his dreams. He felt sick watching Ardmore torture him to get information. Before he could act on his instincts, Quaritch beat him to it. And he was grateful. But Lyle doesn’t know if it was guilt or on instinct, from he seen from his memories, Quaritch didn’t want anything to do with Spider.

Wainfleet raised Spider before he died, but Lyle knows how how much Wainfleet loved the kid, heck he ended things with Quaritch so he could raised the kid himself.

Since Lyle woke up in this new body, he’s been having specific dreams of his Colonel. At first he didn’t understand, on Wainfleet’s video log, he never mentioned of a relationship with Quaritch. And Lyle knows it’s not just him, he sees the guilty, longing, and affection look in Quaritch eyes every time he looks his way.

Lyle is worried for you and Quaritch, he hasn’t heard back from them, and Lyle knows how worried Spider is of you. The poor kid hasn’t slept a wink, he decided to stay on watch with Mansk, hoping you would come back overnight.

Lyle had ordered the unit to get ready within the hour so they could look for you and Quaritch. The best lead they have is to track down where you ran off.

Those memories aren’t his own neither are the feelings he has for his superior. In another life, Lyle was everything to him. His light, his life, the one who brought a little joy to his dreary world. But Lyle made his choice just as he made his. They both know that neither of them can change the past but maybe, just maybe, they can forge a new future...

Quaritch yawns as he sits up, stretching his arms, arching his back, hearing a satisfying pop.

He wipes the sleep from his face as he looks around, remembering his sleeping on a branch, then the memories from last night flash in his head.

“Morning Colonel” He hears your voice, he turns to look at you, seeing you once again weaving, he looks at a pile of rolls. You don’t even look at him as you pay more attention at your weaving.

“What are you doing, darlin?”

“Making hammocks” you answer as you show him your craftsmanship, “it’ll be safer to sleep above ground”

You look at Quaritch with a face that says “I told you so” you told him for the start, it’s safer to sleep in the trees than on the ground. It bothered you seeing Quaritch having to have someone on watch, if they have been sleeping on the trees, everyone could rest for the night.

Quaritch couldn’t hold back a scoff making you smirk.

“I have Rawm looking for the other” you tell him. That made Quaritch eye you suspiciously. He didn’t hear an Ikran screech, unless you went while he was asleep.

“When?”

“When you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you” you reply. Quaritch hums In acknowledgment before looking away from you and sees a pile of Sparta fruit next to you. You had a busy morning.

You catch Quaritch eyeing the fruit, making you giggle.

“Here” you grab one and swiftly toss to him. Quaritch catches it with ease but winches from him stretching his wound, it doesn’t feel as bad as last night but it still stings like a bitch.

“Maybe we should look for a pond” you suggest as you stand up and jump over to his branch. You crouch down behind him as you trail your fingertips around the edges of the leaf.

“What for?” Quaritch as before take a bite out of the fruit, juice dripping down his chin and fingers.

“You need to bathe and I need to wash the blood off your cloths” you respond. Quaritch slept shirtless since you had made him take it off to clean his wound properly last night.

“Want to see me naked, Sully?” Quaritch teases with a smirk. You roll your eyes and purposely rip off the leaf from his skin, making him let out a loud growl. He turns to look at you with a scowl.

“Oops” you faux innocently with a sickeningly sweet smile making Quaritch glare down at you.

“Cmon Colonel, up and at ‘em” you pat on his shoulder before standing up to your full height.

It amazes Quaritch how short you are. Even when he’s sitting down, he still towers over you, you just beat him about 2 inches.

“You weren’t kidding” you stare at him with a raise brow, obviously confused.

“About what?”

“You really are short” Quaritch smirks humorously when he sees you scowl.

“Shut up and eat your stupid fruit. Skxáwng” you huff before turning away from him. You growl when you hear Quaritch laugh.

“Keep up” you yell behind you as you effortlessly run through a narrow branch.

“Woah” Quaritch mutters as he try’s to catch his balance. You notice this and turns to face him.

“Told you you needed to learn your balance” you say smugly.

“Shut up, Sully!” You cover mouth from stopping yourself to laugh out loud but couldn’t hold back the giggle escaping.

You watch as he looks down at his feet, instantly losing his balance. Reaching out to support him, you laugh as his sharp yellow finds yours. Waiting until he has his balance back, you let go of his big arms, watching as he slowly backs up on the branch, arms spread out to keep his balance. 

“See? Not so hard” you smile brightly up at him at his obvious pride. He’s like a baby, but it’s adorable the way his ears peek up.

“Come, we are not far” you turn your back on Quaritch as you continue your trail, Quaritch tries his best to keep his balance as he runs close behind you.

Quaritch keeps his focus on his feet, not realizing you stopped walking before he collided into your backside, he instinctively wraps his arms around you to catch himself, both you stumbling and fighting to catch your balance.

“Hey! Watch it!” You yelp as grasp onto his muscular forearms.

“Me! You’re the one that decided stop and stare at the abyss”

“The what?” Quaritch watches you as you furrow your brows in confusion, you shake your head dismissively, before pushing at his arms to let go of you.

“Nevermind, look” you point. Quaritch lets you pull his arms away before he looks at the direction you’re pointing at.

“What the hell is that?” He squints his eyes trying understand what he’s seeing.

“Pa’li” you answer, Quaritch looks at blankly making you roll your eyes, “You call them Direhorse. They make good practice”

“Practice? Practice for what?”

“Remember what I said? Tsaheylu, The bond, is one of the most important thing a Na’vi can have access to when wanting to connect with the world and nature around us. Pa’li is good practice before bonding with Ikran” you explain.

“If I bond with one of them, do they only belong to me?” He ask.

“Unlike an Ikran however, the neural link made between rider and Pa’li does not lead to a lifelong, exclusive bond between Na'vi and animal. That is why they make great practice” you explain once again.

You both watch as the Pa’li’s feed their bellies by licking the nectar off of some plants with their long tongues.

This is what you wanted, you’ve wanted to teach the recoms how to ride a Pa’li but you’ve been afraid, afraid they’ll hurt them. But seeing as Quaritch doesn’t have any weapons but his combat knife, losing his gun back at the river, you might be able to teach him.

“Let’s get clean up before teaching you, come” you pull on Quaritch wrist, he lets you drag him.

Quaritch watches, amazed as he sees how in tune you seem to be with the animal and how calm it was being in your presence. You rub your hand on the animal snout, earning a soft snort from the Pa’li in contentment.

Miles was captivated and wanted to see how this bond works. Your queue tendrils exposed themselves while you gently guided the Pa’li queue with your hand until both wrapped together and connected tightly.

You hum.

“When you make Tsaheylu, you feel them as they feel you” you hum

“Darlin, you have no idea how wrong that sounds” Quaritch comments. You look at him with a deadpan look. You gently disconnect the bond.

“You’re childish” you pat the Pa’li neck before turning to look At Quaritch with grin.

“Now. Your turn. Get on” you gesture toward the animal behind you. Quaritch gulps nervously.

How the hell is he going to do this without killing himself!

“Shit” Quaritch curses as he falls off the Pa’li to the mud. Seeing him fall sparked a laugh from you.

“You okay?” You giggle as he lets you help him up. You grab him by his arm as you hoist him.

“I’m great, darlin” he responds, but you can hear the sarcasm, which makes you giggle even harder, making him scowl.

“If it makes you feel any better. My dad couldn’t ride a Pa’li neither” you smile.

“It certainly does… not” Quaritch wipes his mud covered hands on his cammies.

What was the point of bathing if he’s going to get dirty again?

“You got mud on your face” you point. Quaritch groans as he tries to his face but doesn’t realize he’s making it worse.

“You’re making it worse” you giggle.

Quaritch stops what he’s doing and looks down at you as you reach up to wipe off any mud on his face.

“There” you smile up at him. Quaritch gaze down at you, almost admiring your features with a soft look. Your smile slowly drops as you gaze right back at him.

Lifting one of his hand to cup your cheek and rubs his thumb against your check bone. Slowly he started to lean down and you lean forward. You close your eye’s in anticipation.

“Colonel!”

Your eyes snap open, you push Quaritch away from you and take a step back as the both you look behind him to see Spider and the unit.

“Y/n” Spider yells as he runs towards you, Quaritch steps aside omit of his way as they all watch Spider throw himself into your arms.

“Don’t ever do that again, please! I beg you! I don’t want to lose you” Spider sobs in Na’vi. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you hood Spider like he was a baby in your arms. Spider holds you so tight like he’s afraid you’ll disappear again.

“It’s okay. I’m right here!” You softly coo as you rub Spider’s back. You softly kiss the crown of Spider’s head.

The recoms watches the reunion between the two of you. They knew how close you were but didn’t realize how deep the bond you and Spider have.

Quaritch and Lyle watches. One feels guilty while the other feels approbation.

As eclipse came, you made the unit sleep in the trees, they instantly agreed. You helped them set them up, each sleeping comfortably without worrying for any predators.

You made yours bigger so Spider could sleep with you. He cling on to you all day, not once leaving your side, always holding onto your tail as he trails behind you.

You hug Spider close to your chest as you brush your fingers through his dreads, he hums contentedly. You hum a lullaby to help him sleep.

“Close your eyes

Have no fear

The monster's gone

He's on the run and your sister’s here

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy

Before you go to sleep

Say a little prayer

Every day in every way, it's getting better and better

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy”

Softly singing the lyrics, you kiss Spiders head. You hug Spider tightly, you close your eyes, letting sleep take over you.

Quaritch and Lyle watches you as you, they both couldn’t take their eyes off of you. They admire the connection you have with Spider, the clear love you have for him.

They both make eye contact with each other, both longing for one another. Lyle is the first to break eye contact by turning away from him and turn on his side, his back facing Quaritch. Quaritch sighs as he looks up at the sky.

I remember the very first moment I properly looked into your eyes. It was like gazing at the stars for the first time.

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(I am going to change the title of this book. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be miles Quaritch x reader, I added Lyle at the last minute and I’m so glad I did. I’ll rename this book “I wanna be yours” so I’ll have to edit all this lol)

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