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eywa-eveng · 1 year

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ɪ. sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴊᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʟʟʏ, sᴜʟʟʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 11.2k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – widower!Jake

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪᴠ

Sand swirls through the air like ash from a fire, waves of white flurries glitter in the sunlight, stirred up by the wingbeats of the descending ikran. One by one they each land on a small inlet, screeching their arrival as if the warning horn hadn’t been enough to draw a crowd around them. There’s four, each more intricately patterned than the last, like detailed weaving spread across their wings. Such creatures are foreign to the reefs. Aside from seldom trading among the People in the far reaches of the forest, ikran are never seen in Awa’atlu. To see them here now, unannounced, is cause for curiosity. The riders seem harmless as they dismount, the oldest of them extending his arms in a show of vulnerability. He’s easy to recognize as your eyes trace over the length of his smallest finger, one more than any other Na’vi you’ve ever known. The crowd shifts like ebbing waves as you move through them, parting to allow you to greet Toruk Makto and his family. The youngest of his daughters hides in his shadow, face half hidden behind his leg as he inclines his head towards you. It’s a surprise that he knows who you are when he offers his greeting.

“Oel ngati kameie, tsakarem.” He says your name gently. The title is an old adage from days long past, before your rites of adulthood. One that belonged to you and your sister. But she is mated to the olo'eyktan, not you. It was Ronal that he would need to show such reverence for. Still, in your sister’s stead you are the best person to speak on behalf of the clan.

“Toruk Makto, oel ngati kameie. You are a far way from the forest. What has brought you to our island?” The crowd is growing larger and their voices raise around you, questions ringing in their hushed tones. There is uneasiness in the air as warriors gather around you, unarmed but tensed in anticipation. They wear looks of curiosity and suspicion as they circle the family.

“I would like to know the same.” Tonowari says as he dismounts his tsurak, gesturing respectfully to Jakesully as your sister moves in beside him. You nod to them both. Whatever reverence Jakesully may hold for you, it will always be shadowed by your sister. She eyes the newcomers warily, catching your gaze as you move in beside her. There is fire brewing in her ocean blue eyes, something weary and distrusting as she watches her husband speak to Toruk Makto.

“We seek uturu.”

“Uturu?” Ronal asks incredulously, ears flicking upward. “And what would the great Toruk Makto need sanctuary from? What war have you started now?” You try to catch her eye as she strides across the sand to look at the children, twirling their tails over her wrist and pulling at their thin arms.

“No more war. I’m done with war. I just want to keep my family safe.” The great warrior shakes his head, lifting his daughter into his arms.

“What family is this?” She snaps, raising his eldest daughter’s hands for all to see. “These children are not even true Na’vi! They have demon blood!” The girl pulls her arms away but it is too late, the clan has seen her five fingers. But Jakesully has them, too, and is quick to flaunt it to your sister. It does little to quell her distaste as she continues to look over his children with a heavy judgment in her eyes.

“Ronal!” It is bad practice to question your elder sister, more so when she is tsahìk. The voice of Eywa rings in her words, but the Great Mother is not cruel. Ronal’s gaze snaps to you, eyes narrowed as she bares her teeth in warning. You hiss right back, ears pulling back in a display of defiance. She abandons the children to slink closer to you. Her eyes are narrowed as she snaps at you.

“You are not tsahìk. This decision is not yours to make.”

“You are being cruel. They are children. He is a father. These things should matter.” Ronal hisses again. She may be tsahìk but you have learned every lesson that she has and Tonowari knows this. His eyes watch the two of you as you circle each other until Ronal finally backs down, glaring up at her mate with a resolute shake of her head. But Tonowari is not weary of the unknown. Not as your sister is. He is kind and gentle to those that need it. A worthy olo'eyktan. They share in an unspoken conversation, staring at each other until finally Ronal relents with a nod.

“Jakesully and his family will stay with us.” He decides, reminding the clan to be mindful of their ignorance. “But they are forest people. They do not know the sea. It will be like taking their first steps, learning as a child does.” He names Ao’nung and Tsireya the childrens’ teacher before your sister turns to you with a scowl on her face.

“My sister will teach you, Jakesully. Learn well.” She says before stalking away. The crowd begins to dissipate as soon as their leaders turn their back to the newcomers, declaring them non threatening with action alone.

No matter the excitement there is still work that needs to be done and everyone moves to return to their tasks. And now you’ve been given a heavy burden. As Tsireya leads the Sully family away you mull over your new responsibilities. Teaching children is easy. It is easier to learn when you are young, but Jakesully is not young. Not as a child is. He is a warrior. Not old, still in his prime, but surely past the point of learning such simple tasks as breathing and riding an ilu. These things are easy to learn young. Of course, Jakesully will not master anything in a day and if he is as great a warrior as the stories say it will surely be shameful for him to be forced to learn as if he is a baby.

Still, Ronal has given you this order and you will fulfill your purpose as asked. Just as Tonowari said, there is great shame in being useless and it’s how you’ve always felt living in Ronal’s shadow. The People respect you but there is no need for a tsakarem as old as you. It is the title of a youngling, one that Ronal outgrew years ago. It used to feel like a crown placed upon your head. The clan needs a tsahìk just as it needs water and they have one. Ronal is healthy and young, glory to Eywa, and it makes you useless.

Tsireya will be named the next tsakarem, or perhaps another young girl of the clan. And they’d overshadow you as well. Though you can’t find it in your heart to resent your sister or niece. It is not their fault that the Great Mother’s light shines brightly through them, that Tonowari had his pick of the tsakarem and chose Ronal. It was better than an arranged mating. He had a choice and you will not fault anyone for his freedom to decide his own mate. But at times you still feel lost, like you’ve floated far from the reef and lost the way home. You seldom dwell on these feelings but Ronal snapping at you reminded you that you are not tsahìk just as she said. Whatever Jakesully’s show of respect had stirred inside you was easily squashed under your sister’s temper.

“You’re thinking awfully hard about something.” Jakesully says, drawing you from your stupor as he takes the basket from your arms. You hardly remember walking here but it is where your feet have carried you as your mind wandered. The marui is empty save for him, the children went off to train with your niece and nephew some time ago. You have nothing to say to his remark as you stand with the light of the disappearing sun warming your back. The shape of your body blankets the pod, cutting a dark shadow across the brightly woven mats. Jakesully’s eyes look a few shades darker in the warm light, yellow irises shining bright as flames as he tilts his head in curiosity. You shake your head.

“It is nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing. You didn’t even hear me say your name when you came in.”

“I’m sorry,” you greet him properly, touching your fingertips to your forehead and drawing it out towards him. «I See you.» He returns the gesture.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Actually I should thank you.”

“Thank me? It’s only fruit. The children will be hungry after swimming for so long.”

“The fruit is one thing, but I wanted to thank you for your kindness earlier. I knew your sister would be less accepting, but I hadn’t expected her to–” he draws in a deep breath, “thank you for defending my children.”

“I know your story, Jakesully. It has carried across Pandora like a song on the wind. Every Na’vi knows your name. There is no fault in your children. They look like you. I am not tsahìk,” you say quietly, “but even I can See that the Great Mother chose you for a reason. No matter what Ronal says, Eywa has not turned her back on you. You don’t need to thank me for saying it.” He laughs but it lacks humor. He sounds pained, rueful, as his ears drop ever so slightly. His brow furrows, so differently than any other Na’vi’s frown with the adage of dark brows, eyes shifting towards the burning light of the coming eclipse. There is something in the reflection of his eyes. A deep sadness. In time, he’ll learn that you were chosen as a tsakarem because your eyes See things others don’t. In everyone’s eyes is a piece of their spirit and Eywa has blessed you to know what each piece means. It is the one thing Ronal has yet to learn. This she cannot See.

“You can just call me Jake.” He says after a while. Whatever torment he’d been thinking of passes like the tide, tension rolling off his shoulders as he shakes away the darkness.

You nod, “Jake. And you can call me by name. No need to say tsakarem. I haven’t been one in years. Since Ronal mated with Tonowari. There’s only tsahìk now.”

“I wanted to show respect.” He says sheepishly, still worried about making a good impression. As if you have the power to rescind Tonowari’s granting of uturu.

“I See you, Jake. If you See me, that is enough respect. I’ll go now, I have to help prepare food for the clan, but we will begin training in the morning.” He looks as if he wants to say something more, mouth poised to ask, but he simply quiets himself with a nod.

Morning rises in shades of shell pink and sea blue, warming the woven paths hung between the marui as you go to fetch Jake. His children are still inside when you arrive. You pause in the open flap of their marui, hesitating to enter. It feels intrusive arriving so suddenly when you’ve yet to properly introduce yourself to the family, but Jake welcomes you in with an offer of breakfast.

“You made this?” You ask, accepting the food graciously, but still feeling awkward sitting down beside him. His children eye you warily, thin tails flicking in anticipation. All but the youngest whose eyes only hold curiosity.

“No,” Jake says around a mouthful, “someone brought us food this morning.” Probably one of the elders.

Both you and Ronal had been scolded by them during your meal last night. Berated for acting so childishly in front of newcomers. There was no defense for your behavior. Had it been just harsh words they’d have nothing to say but the two of you had acted in aggression like bickering children, though your mother insisted that it couldn’t be helped. Siblings are more comfortable with shows of aggression towards each other because there’s no real threat of violence between families. Unfortunately, of the Sully family, only Jake knew of your relationship. The children surely must’ve thought the two of you would swipe at each other regardless of Ronal’s pregnant state. Both of you had been scolded thoroughly, heads bowed and ears tucked in the face of your punishment. Adults turned to children before the elders of your clan. It made Ronal angrier than she had already been getting belittled as if she wasn’t an authority in the clan and she’d been glad to leave your presence when the two of you were finally dismissed.

Now it only makes sense that Jake’s children are wary of the woman that dared to stand up to the tsahìk so publicly. You offer them a proper introduction as a show of peace. They seem to settle as you name Ronal as your older sister.

“I’m Neteyam.” His eldest speaks first. Even in so few words his voice carries a cadence you recognize, an echo of someone else’s voice. His voice sounds as assured as his father’s and you wonder how much Jake’s sons must revere him, and how much they must loathe the shadow his legacy has cast over their lives. It is the same with you and Ronal, but perhaps not as heavy. Ronal is only known well within your clan. To have a father who’s name has been woven into songs must be a great burden to bear.

“I’m Lo’ak.” His second son says after his daughter turns her head away, yet not so far that you can’t see her eyes. She’s wary, confused, and filled with the light of Eywa. Truly something special but still young, still abrasive. You don’t push her to speak after she mumbles her name.

“I’m Tuk!” The youngest says, less bothered by the tension of the unknown that fills the air.

“Tuktirey.” Jake says once they’ve all eaten and Tsireya comes to gather them.

“Hm?”

“Tuk’s full name is Tuktirey.”

“Oh. Would you rather me call her that?” Perhaps you hadn’t earned the right to be so informal with them. Jake was a father, he’s protective. If this is his way of shielding them from harm you’ll comply happily.

“No,” he laughs, “she thinks she’s in trouble when you call her by her full name. I was only saying it in case you were curious.” You hadn’t been. Your names in Awa’atlu differ only slightly from those that are common elsewhere. Tuk seemed like a perfectly good name for a girl but Tuktirey sounds even lovelier.

“She’ll grow into it, I’m sure.” You says, listening to her scream as she jumps into the water. Soon Tsireya and Ao’nung will teach them to dive properly, but for now their shouting and splashing is just fine. Breathing comes first. They move like shadows beneath the water, darker skin standing out where the others disappear in the greenish-blue waves. They only make it so far before their braided heads poke out of the water, clearly out of breath long before the Metkayina children. Teaching them will take patience.

“That’s what her mother always said.” Another melancholy look takes over Jake’s face. It is not your place but even still you want to ask about his feelings. Where was his mate? Had she remained with her clan in the forest? It sounds inconceivable. To be parted from her children would surely tear at any mother’s heart.

“Where is her mother?” You ask gently. Jake’s expression crumbles then rebuilds into something empty and contained. His eyes are hauntingly empty when he turns to look at you.

“Dead.” It’s enough to make you flinch away. No matter how much you want to pluck the petals from this flower to see what’s at the center it’s clear Jake doesn’t want to speak of it any longer. It’s only fair. Losing a mate is a terrible pain. There are more questions in your head but you ignore them. It is not your job to soothe his spiritual wounds. You’re not tsahìk. Instead you lead the way out of the marui to a quieter area of the water.

“We will learn here. If you want to live here the ocean must become like a second home. You said you could adapt, this is your first step to change.” He nods. He looks restless, bouncing lightly on his feet as he waits for your instructions. He’s clearly eager to learn, eyes suddenly bright with almost childlike anticipation. Even his tail seems to move with rapt interest. It’s endearing to see him so open to learning your way of life, to truly becoming one with the clan.

The ocean is as warm as the sand as you step in. The water swallows you, up your ankles and knees, hips and shoulders until you disappear beneath the gentle waves. Threads of white sunlight pierce the water, dancing in rippling ribbons across the backs of passing animals as you swim farther out. You surface quickly and gesture for Jake to follow you. He clambers through the shallow water awkwardly before disappearing beneath the waves. He moves with more precision in the water. Despite his form being made for balance and agility on land he moves well, with strong strokes that cut through the water. You sink beneath him as he approaches, watching his shadow pass overhead. He only stops when a few sloapek swim into his path, slowing down at the sight of the horned fish. He turns to look for you, brows raised in surprise. The childish glow returns to his face as he watches the animals swim around him.

«They are safe. Sloapek don’t harm Na’vi.» You sign to him, realizing belatedly that he can’t understand you. He tilts his head inquisitively before gesturing that he needs air.

“What were those things?” He asks when you both surface.

“Sloapek. They don’t bother Na’vi. Most of the animals are docile, especially this close to shore. It’s only outside the reef that you need to worry. Even tsurak are safe if you don’t bother them. Like your forest banshees. They’re a hunter’s mount. If you wish to learn that you’ll need to ask Tonowari. Ilu I know but skimwings are something meant to be taught by a proper warrior. I learned to complete my rites, but I am not a warrior.” You say, tracing the shape of your first tattoo spanning from the right side of your chest to your shoulder. “Learn well and you will receive your own tattoo when all your rites are passed.”

For all of your doubts, Jake learns well. Despite his thinner limbs he is a strong swimmer, something he said he was taught long ago. He hasn’t said that he learned when he was still one with the tawtute but it is what you suspect. His body knows how to move and yet his lungs are like a baby’s. Whatever he learned then was not taught to his new body. He can swim only for so long, though he’s getting better with each day as he builds his strength and stamina. As are his children. Kiri seems to be learning the quickest as the days pass and she’s finally become comfortable enough to speak with you as she would her family.

“What type of wound is this?” She asks, stretching to lean over your shoulder. It is easy to see where the hunter is wounded. It looks as if something has taken root beneath his skin, sprouting and spreading like faintly glowing rivers. The barb of whatever stung him is blessedly gone from the wound. The mark of it is shallow and you mix a salve to soothe the stinging.

“Most likely, a barb from a nettle coral. They are stone trees outside the reef that have stinging spikes. They’re usually hard to remove because they’re barbed. Luckily it did not stick.” She draws closer in excitedly, always keen to learn something new about the world around her. Her chin rests on your shoulder, hair tickling your ear as she leans over to watch you work.

“What are you mixing?” She asks with rapt attention. You list off the things as you add them to the bowl, reminding Kiri not to forget to maintain pressure on the man’s wound even as she’s distracted. If he shares your sister’s distrust of Jake and his four fingered children he says nothing as her hand keeps his blood inside his body while you mix his salve. When it is ready you let Kiri smell the bowl. She mentioned liking the scent of medicine as it reminded her of home, of her grandmother and the “lab.” You’re still not exactly sure what a lab is but it was a place of solace for her. The first conversation you shared with Kiri started because you smelled of something familiar, an almost human-like substance, she said, that filled the lab with a sharp, clean scent. It had only been a few plants to settle a child’s stomach but she appreciated the smell nonetheless. Now she’s become your shadow when Ronal is occupied with other duties, leaving the healing of lesser wounds to you. Her yellow eyes are rapt with attention as you carefully cover the hunter’s wound with the soothing balm. It will stop the stinging and help with healing but the path of the shock will scar like a tree growing up his torso. You dress the wound carefully and remind him to rest as he leaves the marui.

“Sa’tsmuke,” Ao’nung’s voice carries as he rushes into the healing tent. Kiri stiffens beside you as she rinses the blood from her hands. There’s still a heavy bruise beneath his eye from his earlier fight with Neteyam and Lo’ak but he doesn’t seem to be otherwise injured.

“What is it?” Ao’nung eyes Kiri warily, shifting awkwardly with his eyes towards the ground. “Ao’nung, what is it?”

“Lo’ak is missing.” He mumbles.

“Missing?” You’re on your feet before he can explain. “Ao’nung, it’s nearly eclipse. Why did you wait so long to speak? Where did you last see him?” He mutters something else, turning his face away from you. Whatever he’s done he is trying to keep his eyes hidden. You lift his gaze with a firm hand under his chin and all that shines in his pale blue eyes is guilt.

“What have you done? Where is Lo’ak?”

“Near Three Brothers.” He says finally, eyes downcast as he shifts in the face of your ire.

“Three Bro–Ao’nung! You took him beyond the reef?” His shoulders sag in shame. “There is no time for this. You will be dealt with later. I will go find Lo’ak. Kiri.” She doesn’t take her eyes off Ao’nung, gaze bright with anger, but her ear ticks in your direction. “Take him to your father. Have him say exactly what he told me.”

She nods, gripping Ao’nung tight by his arm so he won’t wrestle away from these consequences. You’ve known your tsmuke’itan to be brash and hotheaded, still going through the throes of growing and becoming a man, but this is beyond something you’d expected of him. If he is here now it means he abandoned Lo’ak. Left a newcomer outside the reef with no knowledge of how to return home. As Kiri pulls him away you hiss, mock clawing at his face in a show of frustration. He doesn’t flinch, knows you wouldn’t harm him despite your anger, but his ears fall back in a show of submission. He knows what he’s done.

Eclipse closes in as you call your ilu, and you consider lighting a torch but riding underwater will be quicker, so with a yip you set out with only the dimmed sky as your guiding light. Three Brothers isn’t too far beyond the safety of the reef. Your ilu feels the urgency in your body through tsaheylu, swimming as fast as she can manage beyond the safety of the seawall terraces. The only light so far from land is that of Pandora, the animals twinkling beneath the dark water and the stars sparkling overhead, Naranawm ever present in the sky. Your voice echoes over the sky as you call for Lo’ak, praying to the Great Mother that he hasn’t drowned or been attacked.

“Lo’ak!” This time there is a splash, like something hitting the water a distance away. Weary of the darkness but worried for Jake’s son, you move towards it, hoping it isn’t an akula tempting you into a trap. In your haste you left for open waters unarmed saved for your knife. Now is not the time to be caught in a predator’s sights. Something small moves through the water, small enough to ease the thoughts of a hunting animal. As the silhouette moves through the pale ripples of starlit waves you find familiar shapes outlined by a scattering of freckled light.

“Lo’ak!” He follows your voice, allowing you to pull him onto your ilu. He doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as you’d expected him to be after spending half of the day outside of the reef’s gentle waters. Tsireya must’ve taught him well. He’s quiet as you start back towards the island, urging your ilu forward at a gentler pace. For a while he doesn’t say anything and you realize he won’t. You’ve seen Lo’ak’s eyes before this. He feels lost, othered. A withered sapling at the foot of a towering tree, always fearful of being a disappointment. But you are not his father.

“You don’t owe me silence, Lo’ak. I know what ma tsmuke’itan did. He came to me himself. If you are angry you can be angry. If you are frightened you can be frightened. If you are upset you can be upset. I will not scold you for speaking your heart. Ao’nung was wrong. He mistreated you. Whatever you feel is alright.” He’s quiet still before letting out an unsteady breath.

“I want to go home.” He says finally. His voice sounds small and you’re reminded that he’s still a child. His arms tighten around your waist as his head falls against your back.

“I’m sorry, Lo’ak. I know this was not your choice but Awa’atlu is your home now. The Metkayina are your family.”

“Doesn’t feel like much of a family.” He grumbles. “No one Sees me. Demon blood, alien, that’s all they see.” He bites out, hands tightening to fists as anger builds in his voice. You don’t discourage it. Most of the clan has kept away from the Sullys but those that don’t have largely been unkind in their approach. Even Ao’nung and his friends have made the children feel alone in this new place. But they are not aliens. Even if they carry the mark of the skypeople they were born and raised as Na’vi in the forests of Pandora. They’re no more human than you are.

“Lo’ak, if it means anything, I See you.” Every part of him is fighting to be seen. He is not just the son of Toruk Makto, he is not just a companion to his elder brother. He is Lo’ak. A person in his own right. You See this. He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride, doesn’t confirm or deny his belief that your sacred words hold meaning. Instead he falls quiet as if he’s waiting for something. He seems to know what will happen when you return. The shoreline is alight with torches when the two of you arrive. Jake and Neteyam are waiting with them. Lo’ak is lifted from the water by his brother as Jake pulls you up as well. He’s quick to check Lo’ak for injuries.

“He’s fine.” He declares to the crowd gathered around. “Just a few scratches, he’s fine.” And quieter he asks, “What were you thinking?” Lo’ak stares at his father, jaw clenched as he awaits his punishment.

“No.” Tonowari says. “Ao’nung knows better than to go outside the reef. The fault is his.” He pushes his son down to kneel. A look passes between the two boys. Something aside from the usual look of confrontation. There’s a budding understanding between them. Both of them look at you for a moment before Lo’ak raises his chin defiantly.

“I was the one that wanted to go beyond the reef. Ao’nung tried to stop me.” The quick glance is explained as Lo’ak lies to his father, protecting Ao’nung from the shame of being so publicly disciplined. Jake grabs Lo’ak’s wrist and pulls him towards their marui. The men nod to each other and your sister catches your eye, looking between you and Jake as he reaches over to usher you away as well. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to know she’s curious as to how far your relationship with Jake and his children goes. It isn’t a conversation you’re ready to have. The waves of your hair shield your face from her as you follow behind the Sullys. Lo’ak tries to speak before he’s berated further.

“You told me to make friends with these kids. That’s all I’m trying–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Jake cuts off his defense. “You are a shame to this family.” Lo’ak’s face falls and his gaze shifts to you. You want to reach out and hold him, to comfort him, but he turns away before you can. His stomping strides carry him further down shore, away from his home. Neteyam’s lips press into an irritated line before he goes off after him. It is what Jake expects of his eldest son but Neteyam looks to be exasperated, tired of having to be the one to bridge the gap between his father and brother.

When Jake spoke to his son, the voice of an olo'eyktan replaced that of a father’s. Right now Lo’ak is not his son. He is a warrior that has stepped out of line, defied orders. You stop him from following them with a hand around his wrist, quickly removing it when you realize what you’d done.

There have been small touches between the two of you but never something as direct as this. You are not his mate. It is not your job to soothe his anger or protect his children. You take a half step back, readying to return to your own marui as night settles deeply over the island. Jake’s ears relax as he catches you retreating. Now he grabs your wrist to keep you beside him. He’s still angry. It’s evident in the tensed line of his muscles and the hard set of his jaw. His dark brows are drawn low over his eyes and for a fleeting moment you see Lo’ak in his expression. It pains your heart to see that they are so similar and yet so different.

“He is upset, Jake. You have to see that.” It’s all you can do to defend his son. You look to where they’ve both disappeared to, seeing Ao’nung join them on the beach. You hope this will put an end to the antagonizing between the clan children. When you turn back to him, Jake is already looking at you, anger bleeding from his face the longer he stares. His grip on your wrist, though not harsh, loosens, as his hand slides up your forearm to pull you closer.

“I thought we’d lost him.” He says quietly, eyes wet with unshed tears. You wonder what he sees as he looks at you, if he realizes who you are. “We” he said. As if Lo’ak was his and yours. Perhaps he’d meant his children but the way he holds you says otherwise. “Thought I’d lost you.”

“I can never be lost. The sea is my home.”

“The forest was our home. But home isn’t always safe. When Kiri told me you left alone–” he stops himself from speaking his fears into the air between you. “I can’t do that again. I can’t lose anyone else.” His words are only a whisper, haggard and desperate. He suddenly sounds his age as his thumbs stroke against your arms. Whatever he’s feeling goes far deeper than you had expected.

In the few months since their arrival you’ve spent almost every waking moment with the Sully family. At first you thought it was simple diplomacy outside of your lessons. Befriending the third most important clan member would solidify their standing even if tsahìk did not fully approve of their joining the clan. But Ronal was past her tantrum. She was wary but not completely unkind as she had been upon their arrival. A tenuous thread of understanding has formed between them and you wonder now if that thread is spun by your own hand. If your sister would have tempered herself so soon if not for your open acceptance.

The Sullys accepted you as well, but only now do you realize how open their hearts have truly been.

“I am here. I’m safe. We’re safe.” It’s all you can say as Jake seems to bask in your simple presence. He doesn’t touch you aside from holding your arms in his, though part of you wonders if he wants to move closer. You want to. So desperately do you want to close the distance between the two of you, to lay your head on his shoulder and promise that everything will be alright. But he is not yours to comfort, nor are his children. It is because you are still tsakarem to them that they open their hearts and bear their vitra to you. Slowly, you pull away.

“I am tired. I’ll go first.” You say, head bowed to avoid what you might see in Jake’s eyes. You spare a quick look in the marui and wish you hadn’t. Tuk is sleeping curled up against Kiri, the elder gently cradling her sister’s head as they sleep. It squeezes at your heart. The weight of Jake’s eyes follows as you retreat, ears drooped in reflection of your soured mood. Part of you wants to pray. To visit the Cove of the Ancestors and seek solace in the voices of those that came before you. But what they would tell you is no different than what you already know. Jake had his mate. She is gone but her place will always be in his heart and her memory leaves no room for you. Clinging to the edge of a family that doesn’t need you won’t fill the void of not having your own.

Everyone had given up courting you shortly before Ronal became tsahìk, when Tonowari began sending courting gifts in pairs before choosing your sister. No one wanted to overstep with their future olo'eyktan and now you’re far too old to be courted. Any man that wanted you would’ve made his desire known years ago. So you return to your empty marui to sleep alone, fending off thoughts of the man you wish could be yours.

The avoidance starts small. Instead of joining Jake for your lessons you encourage him to seek out Tonowari to learn to ride a skimwing. As you’d expected he hadn’t been keen on starting with an easily mastered ilu. When the children ask you to teach them you turn them towards Ao’nung and Tsireya. After the Three Brothers incident the relationship between the children seems to have improved. Lo’ak invoked an understanding between him and Ao’nung. One that your tsmuke’itan has not taken lightly. Your days return to how they’d been before the Sullys’ arrival, busying yourself with menial tasks until you’re needed for something. But it only lasts for so long before Tuk finds you feeding the ilu, half of her hair undone from its usual braids as she wades over to you. The water is up to her chin as she pouts at you.

“Sa’nok!” Your heart leaps in your chest at the title but you quickly remind yourself that Na’vi children often call their teachers mother. “Can you help me with my braids? I tried to do it myself but I can’t.”

“I see that.” You say, drawing your fingers through her disheveled hair. She stays to help you feed the ilu, giggling as they carefully snap the fish from her little hands. When your basket is empty you put her on your hip and carry her back to her marui, stopping at your own home to grab your box of hair ornaments and combs. Jake is there when the two of you arrive and you hesitate to enter, mumbling a soft greeting as you pass him. It’s clear on his face that he has something to say but he keeps it to himself, sharpening the spear in his hand with more force than necessary as you undo the rest of Tuk’s braids. She had only taken out a few before deciding to seek help and the loose hair sticks up around her head like sprigs of grass as you try to pick through the tangles she’s caused trying to do it on her own.

“Alright go wash your hair.” You say, patting her shoulders. She jumps to her feet immediately, probably happy for the brief freedom before she’ll be stuck in one place for the long while it will take to braid her hair. As soon as she’s gone Jake tosses aside the spear that’s long since been honed to a perfect point. For a moment both of you only sit, waiting for the other to move. There is nowhere for you to go. If you leave, Tuk will come looking for you again and you’d be right back here to face him one way or another. He stands with the fluidity of a rising wave, ready to crash over you as he walks inside.

“Where have you been?” He asks plainly. From his height his gaze falls over you like cold water and a shiver dances up your spine despite the sunlight still spilling in from outside.

“I have been busy. Did Tonowari not tell you?”

“You didn’t tell me.” He snaps. Behind him his tail sways in tense arcs as he begins pacing. “You can’t just disappear like that.”

“I didn’t disappear. I was busy.” You say again. It does little to calm him.

“If you’re not going to be around, you tell me. Don’t just disappear without saying anything.” His words make you feel like a child being scolded. It wasn’t as if you’d left the reef. If he had simply asked someone would’ve told him where they’d last seen you on any day he might’ve been curious. Whether you were tending to less urgent wounds or helping younglings learn to swim in the shallow tide pools, you never went where you couldn’t be found. Because truthfully you had hoped he would look for you despite your avoidance. Tuk coming to find you had been a blessed excuse to see him without having to go to him with your tail between your legs, ashamed of your own feelings.

“I’m sorry.” He tuts at that, looking away for a moment before he finally kneels before you. He sits staring at the treads of the mat beneath his feet, locs falling over his shoulders before finally looking up. His face is creased with worry, a line gathering between his brows as remorse shines in his eyes.

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh I was just worried about you. It went from seeing you everyday to not at all. That–just tell me when you’re not gonna be around, okay? I want to know where you are.” His hand moves to hold your arm like he had when you brought Lo’ak home. His five fingers soothe over the rippling pattern of your skin as you wonder what he was going to say before he stopped himself. His eyes are still full of worry and guilt but there’s a fleeting hint of grief there too. The feeling of wanting to pluck away at his layers surfaces again but you resist the urge to ask. It is not the time nor is it your place. Of course you’ve grown close in the time since his arrival but it isn’t nearly long enough to ask what you want to know, to dig at his wounds when you can’t tell how long they’ve been healed. Whatever is ailing his soul has nothing to do with you no matter your desire to help soothe the spiritual pain. It is in your nature but if he wanted help he’d ask and the words have yet to leave his mouth.

Even still something has shifted between the two of you. These gentle touches feel different than before. This isn’t guiding or teaching; this is purely for the sake of closeness as the two of you sit in heavy silence. So many words linger inside you, almost being spoken yet never leaving your lips. It isn’t until Tuk returns with sun-dried hair that you part. Jake says something about returning spears to Tonowari, not turning to face you and his daughter as she climbs into your lap.

The last bead is finally threaded into her hair just in time to send her off with her brothers when they come to fetch her, saying something about visiting the Cove of the Ancestors. It’s nearly eclipse but the floating mountains and glowing trees always look most beautiful when the sun is hidden. You take your time to clean up the mess made while fixing Tuk’s hair. She’d rooted through your entire collection of beads and ornaments, picking her favorites. She’d been excited to show her brothers, bragging about how she had pretty shells mixed into her hair, too. It was endearing to see her so happy to be wearing part of your clan’s traditional dress even if it was something small.

“You’re still here.” Jake says as you set the last comb back into the box. He sounds relieved.

“I only just finished with Tuk’s hair. She left with Neteyam and Lo’ak as soon as I was done. I’ll leave now.”

“You don’t have to. Stay and eat with me.” He says, gesturing to the food set out. Someone had brought another meal to feed the Sullys while you braided Tuk’s hair. She was happy to sit still while she was eating, no longer squirming with childish impatience as you worked. There is still enough food left for the rest of the family and Jake hands you a portion before you can refuse. Your fingers brush his as you take it from him and it makes you linger for a beat longer. In the gentle silence of your shared meal you finally gain the courage to ask one of the question you’ve been wondering about since you first met Jakesully.

“What was it like riding toruk?” There have been only six riders since the time of the First Songs and here is one of them before you. You try to keep the awe from your voice. While riding toruk is a feat of legends it is only done in times of great strife. Jake wasn’t Toruk Makto because he simply wanted to be. It is a great responsibility that he took on. One that easily could’ve led to his death had he failed. And surely many had failed before.

“Terrifying,” he decides, laughing humorlessly. “Riding him was different than riding an ikran. There was so much at stake. And knowing what it meant to ride him, that power and what I needed it for; that was terrifying.” He laughs again, a small chuckle but it doesn’t sound as empty this time. “That’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that to anyone.”

“That you were afraid?” He nods. “I don’t fault your fear, Jake. Even the mightiest warriors feel scared sometimes. There was much to lose in that battle. The whole of Pandora would’ve mourned the loss of the Tree of Souls. That was a heavy burden for you to carry but you succeeded.” He nods. He’s heard you but it does not seem like he believes your words.

“Have I?” He mutters softly, so softly that you wonder if he meant to say them at all. But before you can ask Neteyam’s voice rings through the hush of the night. The rest of the children follow him, kneeling just outside the marui as Neteyam gently lays Kiri down. She isn’t moving and the light that should be glowing brightly in the darkness is dim beneath her skin.

“What happened?” You ask, already moving to check over her. She is breathing but her eyes don’t open when you lift her arm. Her muscles feel tense beneath your fingers, tightening when you try to move her even slightly.

“We were all connected to the Spirit Tree but Kiri started shaking and then she stopped moving. She wouldn’t wake up.” Tsireya is close to tears as she clings to Lo’ak’s arm. His face is set in a harsh frown but his fear is evident in his eyes. They all look scared and Tuk cries as she clings to her father. Jake holds her tightly as he looks to you for help.

“Go get your mother.” You say to Tsireya but Jake stops her.

“No. You are here. You’re tsakarem. Help her.” He says. “Please.” His eyes are pleasing as he cradles Tuk to his chest, kneeling beside you once more. If he trusts you to do it then you will care for his daughter.

Her heart beat is slow as you press your ear to her chest, and her breath rattles with the familiar sound of drowned lungs. That is easily fixed. It is one of the first things you learned to heal. With two fingers you draw sweeping lines from her waist up to her chest then from her neck down to her heart before blowing air against her navel. It takes a few passes before her lungs open and she coughs up the water. She doesn’t wake as you dry her face but her heartbeat sounds stronger and her breathing comes easier. Her body is less tense as you try to move her arms again but she is still twitching almost imperceptibly.

“She will sleep. I can’t say when she’ll wake. If she isn’t awake by morning I will call for Ronal.” Jake nods and lays Tuk down beside her. The little one has tired herself out with tears, cheeks still wet as she curls up next to her sisters.

“You two return home.” You expected Tsireya to be slow to part with Lo’ak but even Rotxo seems to hesitate in leaving. A true bond has been made between all of them and you are glad to see that the Omatikaya children are finally being treated with Metkayina respect and care.

“Come.” Jake grabs your wrist as you pass him to take the children home.

“Come back?” It’s a question. Desperation is clear in his tone as he stares into your eyes. He’s terrified. You can see it in his eyes. The fear of a father who can do nothing to protect his child. There’s no enemy to fight, no battle to win. Whatever has harmed Kiri is intangible and the feeling of futility shines in his eyes. You nod, and slowly he lets you go. It feels as if he’s uncertain about letting you leave at all. But you do, taking Rotxo to his parents and Tsireya to hers.

“Do not mention Kiri. I don’t want to worry your mother needlessly. If she has not improved by morning then I will call for her help.” They nod and Tsireya hugs you before entering their marui, sitting down quietly next to her brother.

“Tsmuke,” Ronal says when she sees you.

“You are growing.” A small smile finds its way to your face as you take in how much her stomach has grown in the time since Jakesully’s arrival. The two of you have been apart for the long weeks, months, since the Sully family joined the clan. At first it was stubbornness. Neither of you wanted to admit that the other was right as you took opposing views of the displaced family. Now it is simply the duty of teaching them. Ronal has the clan to tend to as you worry over the newcomers. She had no time for them and so she had no time for you, either.

“Is he waiting for you to come home?” She asks when you finally turn to leave. You pause in your retreat but don’t turn around. Your home is not with Jakesully. Every night you leave to return to your own lonely marui. And Ronal knows this.

“That is what I thought.” She says after a moment, likely seeing the way your body has sagged in the wake of her question. Your tail has stilled and your ears have fallen flat against your head, though that at least is hidden by your hair. When you turn, fists clenched, she is already going inside. It’s a game you’ve both played since you were young. If she turns before you leave you’ll know if her words were meant to be as scathing as they sounded, but she holds firm. Her eyes stay hidden. Not sitting or turning before you lose patience and storm away. It could’ve been a simple question, but if she meant to insult your interest in a mated man she has done it.

As if you don’t already know that your feelings are wrong. This budding desire is as useful as putting a single drop of water on a fire. You’ll burn away and turn to steam and he’ll burn on, unbothered by your infatuation. Whatever comfort he’s seeking from you now is that of a friend. It has to be because you won’t let your heart consider that he could feel something more. He had his mate. She might’ve joined Eywa before her time but she was his and he was hers. There was nothing you could do to change that.

The boys are asleep by the time you return and Jake is sitting with his feet in the water, eyes trained on the horizon. He looks up at your approach and you watch as his shoulders relax in relief.

“I thought you forgot about us.” The words you want to say are too much for this quiet moment so you simply shake your head as you sit down next to him.

“I called in some old friends. They’re going to come look at Kiri in the morning.” You look at him questioningly. Neteyam had said that the ride to Awa’atlu took many days. No clan could spare their tsahìk for that long. Not even for Toruk Makto.

“Friends?”

He nods, “Human friends. The ones that stayed when the skypeople left.” It’s an instinctual response to hiss at that. You feel yourself bare your teeth before you can gather your feelings. Jake was human once. If he trusted them to treat his daughter then you could trust them to be near your clan. But there is still a piece of you that loathes the thought of tawtute coming to your home. He doesn’t rebuff your harsh response, only reaching to run his thumb over the back of your hand. You want to flip your palm upward, to catch his hand in yours. It would be strange to hold his hand. You can’t thread your fingers as you would with anyone else but his hand is strong, comforting. Your grip tightens on the edge of the path overhanging the water to keep from acting on the thought.

The humans arrive soon after sunrise, stirring up more clouds of sand as their strange, black ikran descends from the sky. It isn’t truly an ikran but you aren’t sure what else to call the strange ship.

“Keep them back.” Jake instructs before moving towards the thing still stirring the beach. The small crowd gathered is happy to comply as you usher them away from the loud, buzzing thing. A dreamwalker steps out in his human garbs, though there are pieces of the Omatikaya decorating him as well. A necklace, an armband, even a knife across his chest like a proper warrior. And his feet are bare. The second man to leave the buzzing beast is human. His face is covered in a clear mask and he wears no Na’vi adornments. They all speak in frantic tones before they take what they need from the strange, hollow beast and start following Jake. He catches you by the elbow as he passes, a clear sign for you to join them. They’re watched by everyone that they pass and the human is the first to duck inside the marui, seemingly glad to be in a somewhat hidden space. He greets the children before Jake sends them away. They only go as far as being out of the way, standing vigilant just outside the open flap. You wish to join them but Jake pulls you with him as they begin their human treatment.

Kiri is not like you. You know this. It’s plain to see in her five fingers and the low placement of her tswin. She has part of the skypeople in her, but she’s spoken so freely of her mother in the time she’s spent with you. She wasn’t Jake’s mate but his friend. A woman that taught the Omatikaya children about earth and learned about Pandora in turn. She treasures Eywa’eveng just as any Na’vi does. She was careful and curious and she gave her life trying to help Jake protect it. It’s no wonder she gave birth to someone so in tune with the Great Mother. Grace. Kìreysì.

The human and the dreamwalker fret over Kiri, seemingly making no progress as the three of them speak in their human language. It means nothing to you though, your ears only able to find your own name amid the flurry of foreign sounds. The children seem more in tune with the conversation, ears twitching as they listen just outside the marui. After so long with Kiri not so much as flinching as they move and poke at her with sharp needles you stand to leave. The tiny man looks up from his strange, bright and moving plate. It glows against his brown skin but it isn’t a glow that you’re used to. It seems too bright, too harsh. Unnatural. He looks just as uncomfortable as you feel but you can’t be sure. There’s nothing to see in his brown eyes beneath the two masks he wears.

“I am going to get Ronal.” Jake calls after you but you’ve already decided. His friends have done nothing but make noise around her. Ronal will see to whatever is harming her, quicker than they ever could. You find her in the healing tent, working over the back of a young hunter.

“He was met with an akula.” She says as you watch her cover the long gashes along his back with a healing salve.

“Kiri needs you.” Her hand pauses at your words.

“What is wrong?”

“She was shaking uncontrollably last night while at the Spirit Tree. She swallowed water.”

“You can heal her easily.” She concedes.

“I have cleared the water from her lungs but she hasn’t woken up. Whatever made her convulse is still inside her. I’m not knowledgeable enough to help.” Ronal clicks her tongue at that.

“Whatever I know, you know.” She sighs when you don’t leave. “I will be there as soon as I am done here.” You nod and leave her to her work, returning to the Sully marui.

“What are they saying?” You ask Neteyam.

“He doesn’t know.” Lo’ak says, satisfaction clear in his tone. “I am better at English than him.”

“Then what are they saying?” His smug attitude fades immediately.

“They don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Hah!” You growl. None of the children react but the two outsiders look up at you. The dreamwalker only looks confused but the human flinches as if there’d been a threat in your frustrated tone. Jake looks at you for a moment before holding out a hand for you to join him.

“Where’s your sister?” You wrinkle your nose at him. Jake has always had a slight accent, tongue still failing to perfect certain words with the ease of a child taught since birth. His children don’t carry his same inflections but if you had noticed it before it’s disturbingly prominent now. It strips away a bit of him, revealing the man he used to be beneath it. Human, dreamwalker. Part of you wants to know that side of him to better understand the man he is today but then your eyes trail wearily to the strange things that now fill the marui with lights and sound and it suddenly feels too overwhelming to ask. Ronal arrives as Jake speaks to his friends, looking between the three men before her eyes land on you.

“I see that I am not needed.” You’re on your feet in an instant, snatching up her arm before she can leave.

“You are tsahìk.” She understands your words, your trust in her and hesitancy towards the foreign men. In this matter you stand with her in a shared distrust. Whatever they are doing is not helping. But this is what tsahìk does. She stares at you for a moment, eyes uneasy.

“Remove these things.” She says it to you but her voice is loud and unflinching, though it’s doubtful the human understands her.

“Out!” You hiss when they do not move away from Kiri.

The dreamwalker moves first, then Jake says something in his human tongue to get the other man to listen. They work quickly in the shadow of you and your sister, leaving Kiri to be properly cared for. Tuk runs in as soon as they pass her, hand grabbing yours as Ronal sets her healing tools beside Kiri. She asks for the tent to be closed off, all of you keenly aware of the two outsiders standing just beyond the open marui. This is not something for them to witness. Jake complies, leaving the three of you inside with Kiri as he closes the flap. Ronal looks over Kiri, mumbling a prayer to herself as she does the same as you did last night. She moves her limbs, testing her body as she tries to find what is harming it. When she does she goes to work immediately. Her tools aren’t strange. They are pieces of your everyday life. She doesn’t pierce her skin as they had, and doesn’t need their strange glowing and noise to work. She calls on the Great Mother to guide her as she begins to heal the child.

It takes much time and you begin to sing a working song to fill the tense air and cover the sound of the human words coming from outside. It doesn’t distract Ronal as you sing about the ocean and Eywa. It’s a song meant for fishing, for working on the great seawall terraces, for weaving clothes, and sharpening weapons. It’s an idle song to fill the time and you sing it quietly as Ronal works, blowing great gusts of air against Kiri’s skin. With one last exhale like a great tulkun’s breath she sits back heavily as Kiri begins to shift. You’re at the child’s side in an instant, brushing her hair from her face as Tuk takes her hand. Her eyes are barely open before she begins to cry.

Her hand reaches out for you as she finally recognizes your face above her, wanting to be held as your sister collects her things. Ronal rests a hand on your head as Kiri hugs you, Tuk worming in between your bodies. There is meaning in your sister’s touch that doesn’t need to be said with words. Take care of her, her touch says, before she leaves. You watch her go and she glares at the outsiders as she passes but as soon as she does Jake is moving to gather the three of you into his arms.

“Thank you, Great Mother.” You whisper against Kiri’s hair. Whatever has happened she is awake now. She will heal. It takes a long while before she is comforted enough to let go. She sits quietly, picking at the food Tsireya brought for her. The children fill the marui, all seven of them crowded together as they try to rouse Kiri from her low spirits. It leaves you outside with Jake and his strange friends. Jake introduces you and you’re surprised to hear their names. Norm the dreamwalker and Max the human. These are things you can say easily. Jake’s name still sounds a bit strange on your tongue, the sound of it just as complex as Grace’s name had been when Kiri first taught you. Their names sound rounded to start, but your tongue wants to make a sharper sound. But Norm and Max. These sounds you know.

“May the Great Mother smile upon our first meeting.” Norm says, gesturing towards you. «I See you.» Max says something in his human tongue–English, Lo’ak called it–but you just tilt your head. You can’t understand him any more than you understand a chittering ilu.

“He said it’s nice to meet you.” Jake says, laughing at whatever look of confusion has crossed your face. You nod but say nothing. Soon they go back to speaking their human words but Jake keeps you close to him with his arm hooked over yours. So you sit, listening but not understanding. Finally they say something that seems to upset Jake. His ears fall as he sighs, and his hand finally finds yours. There’s defeat in his eyes when he looks at you after hearing what his friends had to say. Defeat and longing you realize as his hand tightens around yours. If he wants to say something he doesn’t. Instead he nods resolutely and rises to walk the outsiders back to their hollow ikran. You meant to ask what it was called but the thought is easily lost as you turn towards the children.

It is near to eclipse and the sun is a bright crescent of firelight in the sky, casting an orange glow over them. They’re gathered in a tight circle, like a braided cord. Shoulders touching and tails sweeping against each other. Lo’ak has Tsireya’s arm, Ao’nung and Neteyam are sharing in their own conversation, and Tuk has tucked herself under Rotxo’s arm, still clinging to her sister’s hand. Kiri’s face is still troubled but she doesn’t look as upset as she had when she first woke. You imagine it will be long before she returns to herself. It doesn’t seem like they’ll be eager to leave so you take it upon yourself to feed them.

“How is the girl?” Ronal asks when you join her at the cooking fire. Women of the clan are gathered here, talking amongst themselves as they prepare dinner. Many hands are needed to feed so many people and they smile upon your arrival.

“Awake and well enough. The children have been keeping her company since she woke.”

“That is good.” She nods, passing you leaves to wrap the fish you’ve cooked. The two of you work in tandem as you had before Jakesully’s arrival upset the balance of Awa’atlu. Or perhaps it’s only you that’s been so upended by the man and his family. You’ve missed moments like this with your sister. They’d been lost after you set yourself as her opposition before the clan. Her acceptance was reluctant and eased by the will of her mate. But things have simmered since and Ronal has quelled her distaste for the family.

“You are close to her,” Ronal says carefully, blowing the flame off a roasted bit of meat. “She will be more comfortable if you look after her. I can’t say what happened, but it was something terrible. The whole of her spirit was upset by it.” She speaks quieter now, strong voice suddenly lost in the din of gossiping women. “If something more happens you have seen how I healed her. It will be your responsibility.”

“My responsibility? I am not tsahìk. This is a matter for the will of Eywa.” Your voice is a sharp whisper.

“You say this as if we do not know the same things. The Great Mother speaks just as clearly to you, tsmuke. It is because I am tsahìk that I am entrusting the health of a child of our clan to you. Any mother of Awa’atlu would do the same. You know this. Stop questioning yourself.” She snaps. Ronal has never been one for kindness based on familial ties. She treats you as any other member of the clan when the need arises. You aren’t above reproach. She frowns at you, before venting her anger into the food in her hand. With a jerk of her head in the direction you came from she dismisses you. The last of the food she’s made goes in the basket on your hip as you leave.

“Sa’tsmuke,” Tsireya announces you when you set down the food. Your niece’s dimpled smile lights up her face as laughter greets your arrival. Even Kiri has a small smile on her lips. It’s a relief to see. Jake still hasn’t returned but you try not to dwell on his absence. They continue their happy conversation as the night grows darker until it tapers off into quiet mumbles and stifled yawns. The Sully children settle down for the night and Tsireya is nearly asleep as you detangle her from between Kiri and Lo’ak. She clings to you the same as she had when she was small as you put her on your back. Her face nuzzles against your hair as you see everyone home. The oversight isn’t necessary. There’s no danger in walking alone even in the darkness but you enjoy these small moments of borrowed motherhood.

But when you return to your empty home once more your heart feels hollow. The feeling has plagued you for weeks, marked with the arrival of the Sully family. The loneliness hadn’t bothered you so much before. The clan has many unmated men and women. Finding a mate can take years and you always assumed you’d bloom into love later than most. And when the time for mating seemed to pass you accepted your status as a singular woman. Now it feels as though there is something missing. Like a chip in your knife that you hadn’t noticed before. The dull ache of it plagues you as you try to sleep, trying to ignore the whispers carrying on the balmy breeze.

If this pain is the Great Mother trying to tell you something you choose to ignore it. Jakesully has mated before her. He belongs to someone else. No matter the circumstances he’s found himself in now; without his mate and far from his home, nothing but friendship can be shared between the two of you.

Even as your heart squeezes painfully in your chest you resign yourself to the dull ache. These feelings are yours alone. You’ll just have to accept the pain of longing for a heart you can never hold.

ɴᴀ’��ɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Oel ngati kameie – I See you

Tsakarem – tsahìk-in-training

Uturu – sanctuary

Tawtute – skypeople

Sa’tsmuke – aunt, mother’s sister (speculative)

Tsmuke’itan – nephew, sister’s son (speculative)

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Vitra – spirit, soul

Tsmuke – sister

Tawtute – skypeople

Tswin – neural braid

Eywa’eveng – Pandora

#jake sully x reader #sully family x reader #avatar x reader #avatar #atwow

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mariasont · 2 months

Text

Ours Minds Entwined----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

Spencer Reid x Original Character x Aaron Hotchner

in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member

Chapter Three:

The precinct doors swung open, admitting the BAU team into a world where the air was heavy with the scent of stale coffee and the buzz of fluorescent lights. The local officers, scattered like leaves, paused mid-motion their gazes drawn at the badged newcomers. Among them, the chief stood out, his shoulders bearing the slump of defeat.

Evelyn stepped through the threshold, her arrival stirring the calm atmosphere as subtly as a breeze disturbs a tranquil pond. The male officers couldn't help but glance up from their desks, their conversations trailing off as they took in her confident stride and bright energy she carried like a torch. She was oblivious to the subtle shifts in posture, the stolen glances that followed her path to the map.

Hotchner's gaze, sharp and discerning, caught the brief interplay of looks, a silent conversation in the language of glances. Beside him, Reid's observation was more analytical, noting the dynamics without judgment, his mind already cataloging and discarding the information as irrelevant to the task at hand.

Hotchner's voice cut through the low buzz of the precinct, clear and authoritative. "We're here to assist, not take over. Your insights are invaluable." His words were a bridge, extending partnership to the weary officers.

The chief, a grizzled veteran with eyes that had seen too much, stepped forward to greet them. "We're at a dead end," he admitted, shaking Hotchner's hand with a grip that spoke of desperation. "This guy is thorough, leaves no trace."

Reid, his eyes sharp behind the lenses of his glasses, peered over the crime scene photos scattered across the table. "Has there been any consistency in the locations of the attacks?" he asked, his mind already sifting through the data like a codebreaker.

A detective, her badge dulled by the dust of the chase, shook her head. "All within a ten-mile radius, but no specific pattern. Random as far as we can tell."

Evelyn leaned over the map, her fingers tracing the spider web of roads and locations, her brow in concentration. "Not random, a constellation..." she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

It was there, in the quiet hum of her focus, the pattern emerged--a dance of dates and places that wove together.

"Look at the dates," Evelyn said, her voice a beacon cutting through the fog. "Each one aligns with a local event. It's not random; it's opportunistic. He's hiding in plain sight, using the crowds as cover for escape."

Silence fell, a heavy cloak, as all eyes turned to Evelyn. Reid's lips quivered in a semblance of a smile, his respect for her clear in the warmth of his eyes. "She's right," he affirmed. "The unsub isn't just local; he's embedded in the community, using public events as his hunting ground."

Hotchner's nod was slow, thoughtful, the gears of strategy turning behind his stoic facade. "Good work, Evelyn. Let's get a list of upcoming events, cross-reference with his known comfort zone. We might just catch him in the act."

The office was a cocoon of concentration, bathed in the soft hum of working minds. The only sources of light were the twin glows of computer screens, reflecting off Reid and Evelyn's focused faces. Papers littered the desk, each one a piece of the puzzle they were desperately trying to solve.

Reid, his eyes scanning the data before them, spoke without looking away from the screen. "If we consider the unsub's preference for high-density events, it's logical to deduce that he will utilize the inherent disorder as a smokescreen for his escape," he said, his voice a low murmur in the quiet room.

Evelyn's eyes, bright with the thrill of the hunt, were fixed on the screen as she leaned forward, her curiosity piqued by the list of events. Her hair had loosened during the long hours of research, giving her an air of approachability.

Reid, ever the picture of academic focus, had his brows furrowed in concentration. His hair was a bit more unruly than usual, the curls just slightly askew. The faintest hint of a five o'clock shadow graced his jawline, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise youthful appearance.

Evelyn leaned in, her eyes scanning the list. "What about this one?" she asked, pointing to an entry on the screen. "The annual bourbon event. It's popular, draws a big crowd, and it's happening within his hunting grounds."

Reid's eyes flickered with approval. "Good catch," he affirmed, his voice steady and calm, yet there was an undercurrent of enthusiasm for her keen observation.

Evelyn's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, her eyes sparkling with pride. The praise from Dr. Reid, sent a wave of elation through her--all the way in between her thighs. She dragged her lower lip through her teeth, straightening her posture, as she turned to him. "So, we could catch him there," she said.

Reid observed the transformation with a gentle, knowing smile. There was a vibrancy to Evelyn's enthusiasm that reminded him so vividly of his own younger self--brilliant, eager to prove, and somewhat oblivious to the darkness they were about to face. Yet, there was a shadow of concern that crept into his thoughts; the job had a way of chipping away at one's spirit, and he hoped Evelyn would be spared the harsher realities for a little while longer. He saw her potential for greatness, but also the innocence that he once carried--an innocence he hoped to protect, even if just for a little while longer.

Reid leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting Evelyn's with a mentor's patience. "It's a multifaceted problem," he began, his tone measured and informative. "We have to account for variables that could influence the unsub's behavior--law enforcement visibility, crowd dynamics, ingress and egress points."

Evelyn nodded, her pen pausing over the notebook that was quickly becoming a testament to her dedication. "Right, exit strategies," she echoed, her voice a mix of realization and admiration. "I didn't even think about that."

"There's always a pattern, a logic to their choices, even if it's skewed by their own delusions," Reid continued, the profiler in him surfacing as he spoke. "Our job is to decode that logic, to think like them, so we can be there to stop them."

Evelyn's scribbles grew more fervent, her eyes alight with the challenge. "To get into their heads," she mused, looking up at Reid with newfound understanding.

"Exactly," Reid affirmed with a nod, a subtle smile acknowledging her quick grasp of the concept. "And remember, the most seemingly insignificant detail could be the key to unlocking their next move."

The realization struck like a bolt of lightning, and the urgency was palpable in the room. Evelyn's breath hitched as she stared at the date, her voice a mix of alarm and adrenaline. "Reid, it's tomorrow," she said, the words tumbling out with the weight of their implications.

Reid's reaction was immediate, his sharp mind already racing through the implications. His eyes now mirrored Evelyn's intensity. "We need to call Hotch," he stated, the command in his voice leaving no room for hesitation.

The BAU team, after hours of meticulous planning for the bourbon festival operation, stepped into the hotel lobby--a spacious area with high ceilings and a grand chandelier casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and fatigue from the day's efforts.

Morgan's eyes, sharp and observant, scanned the surroundings before resting on Evelyn. His muscular frame relaxed against the front desk, his FBI badge glinting under the lobby's lights. "You know, for a rookie, you're not too shabby at this profiling gig," he teased, his voice carrying a hint of respect.

Evelyn, despite the exhaustion that shadowed her features, still managed to exude an effortless elegance. Her hair, usually tied back for practicality, had strands falling loosely around her face, softening her determined expression. "Oh, please. I learned from watching the best," she quipped, nudging him lightly with her shoulder.

Morgan chuckled. "Just remember, it's all fun and games until someone gets out-profiled by the new kid."

In the hours between the precinct and the hotel, the team had dissected every detail of the unsub's previous attacks. They mapped out the festival grounds, assigned undercover positions, and established communication protocols. They even ran through several scenarios, each time refining their strategy to ensure they were ready for any contingency.

As they finalized check-ins, Garcia buzzed in with last-minute intel, adding another layer to the plan. They would need to be vigilant, adaptive, and above all, united to outsmart a foe who had eluded everyone thus far. The team dispersed to their rooms, Reid lingering behind with Evelyn as their rooms ended up being next to each other.

The dimly lit hallway to their rooms was quiet, save for the soft thud of their footsteps on the plush carpet. Reid walked alongside Evelyn; his profile bathed in the intermittent glow of the overhead lights. His hair was tousled, likely from the countless times he'd run his fingers through it in thought, giving him a disheveled charm that Evelyn couldn't help but find endearing.

As they reached her door, Evelyn's bag strap slipped from her shoulder, prompting her to grasp it tighter. In doing so, the sleeve of her blouse shifted, revealing the gentle slope of her collarbone. Reid's gaze inadvertently followed the movement, and he felt an inexplicable warmth flood to his cheeks. It was a simple, innocent moment, yet it stirred something within him.

"Here we are," Evelyn said, her voice breaking the silence as she fumbled with her key card.

Reid, still slightly flustered, cleared his throat. "Yeah, um, goodnight, Evelyn. See you in the morning," he managed to say, his eyes lingered a moment longer than they should've before he turned towards his own door.

"Goodnight, Spencer," she replied, her use of his first name sending a ripple through the air.

The bourbon festival buzzed with energy, a tapestry of sounds and colors under the open sky. The scent of oak and vanilla wafted through the air, mingling with the sweet, earthy aroma of the surrounding food stalls. Laughter and lively conversations created a backdrop to the twang of banjos and fiddles playing a lively bluegrass tune, setting toes tapping on the grassy grounds.

As Evelyn navigated the festival crowd, Reid found his attention inadvertently drawn to her. The way the setting sun played with her hair, transforming it into a cascade of burnished waves, and the way the sundress accentuated her every curve with an understated elegance. There was something about Evelyn in this light, in this moment, that captivated him, and he caught himself appreciating the sight more than he had anticipated.

Reid's attire was a departure from his usual suits--a plaid shirt that brought out the flecks of amber in his eyes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark jeans that were both functional and inconspicuous. His hair lay in casual disarray, seeming as though the festival's carefree spirit had influenced his usually precise appearance.

The bourbon festival was in full swing, the air filled with the sounds of laughter and music. Undercover among the revelers, Reid and Evelyn blended in seamlessly, their casual attire and relaxed demeanor belying the sharp vigilance in their eyes.

Evelyn leaned against a wooden stall, sipping her fake drink as she observed the crowed. "So, we're looking for a male in his 30s, likely with a history of gambling debts and penchant for superstition," she recited quietly to Reid.

Reid, who was pretending to be engrossed in a festival brochure, nodded subtly. "Exactly. The four-leaf clover he leaves with his victims--it's not just superstition; it's a signature. It suggests a compulsion, a need to leave his mark, which is indicative of a narcissistic personality. He's taunting law enforcement, believing he can control the outcome of his crimes--like he's playing his own game of chance."

Evelyn, her voice low and steady leaned in. "So, we're looking for someone who blends in too well, someone who's watching but not engaging," she observed, her gaze sweeping over the crowd.

Reid nodded, his attention divided between her and the faces passing by. "Our unsub targets individuals who are isolated, perhaps separated from the group--easy prey in a setting like this," he explained.

Evelyn's eyes followed his line of sight. "Right, the loners. The ones who look like they're searching for something or someone," she added.

As the evening progressed, the shadows began to cast across the faces of the crowd. Reid and Evelyn moved through the throng, their gazes sharp and discerning. They passed a group of raucous college students, their laughter ringing out as they clinked their glasses in a toast. A little further on, a family of four navigated the crowd, the children's faces painted with whimsical designs, their hands sticky with cotton candy.

The air was rich with the scent of smoked meats and the char of oak barrels, the soundscape a blend of folk music and the murmur of hundreds of conversations.

Reid's voice was low as he leaned in, "It's fascinating how a beverage can be both a social lubricant and a potential clue in a criminal investigation. I suppose that adds a whole new layer to the term 'spirit detective'."

Evelyn's laughter was like a melody that cut through the ambient noise of the festival, infectious and unrestrained. It was the kind of laugh that turned heads, not just for its volume but for its genuine quality.

She turned to Reid, her eyes alight with a playful glint. "So, we're adding 'spirit detective' to your already impressive resume? I must say, it's quite the title upgrade from genius profiler," she quipped, her tone teasing.

"Easy, we don't want to draw attention," Reid murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. Her laugh was a laugh he realized he wanted to hear again, a candid burst of warmth that cut through the coolness of his analytical mind.

The festival's din faded into the background as Evelyn's attention was momentarily captured by Hotch's presence. He stood there, a figure of quiet authority even in his casual undercover attire. The subtle checkered pattern of his shirt did little to conceal his disciplined build, and the way his jeans fit just right made Evelyn's mouth feel dry all of a sudden.

Hotch's eyes, usually a well of stoicism, held a flicker of something else as they met Evelyn's--a momentary lapse in his guarded demeanor. His gaze, sharp and assessing, traveled over her in a swift, sweeping motion that was both professional and personal. It lingered just a beat too long on the curve of her neckline.

Hotch, after his brief lapse, was once again the picture of professionalism. His conversation with Rossi resumed, his demeanor unreadable, the brief moment of personal interest concealed behind a mask of focus and command. Evelyn, still oblivious to the subtle undercurrents of attraction, turned her attention back to the mission, her mind as sharp as ever.

Evelyn excused herself from Spencer, weaving through the crowd in search of the bathroom. The path to the restrooms was a stark contrast to the bourbon-soaked revelry Evelyn had left behind. The vibrant string of lights gave way to the occasional flickering bulb that did little to pierce the encroaching darkness. The music, once a lively companion, now played a muffled soundtrack to her solitary walk, the notes distorted and distant.

The restrooms, a small cluster of temporary structures, stood isolated at the edge of the festival grounds. Evelyn's boots sank slightly in the soft earth with each step, the recent rain turning the ground to a treacherous mix of mud and grass.

As she stepped out, the sense of solitude was abruptly shattered. A hand clamped over her mouth with startling force, stifling the scream that rose in her throat. Her assailant's arm was an iron band around her, pulling her back against a solid chest. Panic flared, her breath hot and desperate against the palm pressed to her lips.

Panic surged, her heart thundering in her chest, her mind screaming for action, but her body momentarily paralyzed by fear. It was him--the unsub. His breath was hot against her ear, his grip unyielding.

Adrenaline surged through Evelyn's veins, her training taking over as she drove her elbow back with precision, aiming for the soft of her attacker's abdomen. The unsub grunted, his grip loosening just enough for her to twist out of his hold. The unsub recovered quickly; his face contorted with anger.

He lunged at her, throwing a punch that Evelyn narrowly dodged. She countered with a swift kick to his knee, causing him to buckle, but he was relentless. He swung again, this time connecting with her cheek, the impact sending a jolt of pain through her jaw.

Evelyn staggered but didn't falter. She wiped the trickle of blood from her lip and glared at the unsub with fierce determination. With a swift move, she stepped inside his reach, delivered a powerful uppercut that snapped his head back, and followed with a knee to his midsection that doubled him over.

As he gasped for air, Evelyn seized the opportunity. She grabbed his arm, twisted behind his back, and pushed him down to the ground. "FBI! You're under arrest," she declared, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart.

The scene was a rush of motion as the team manifested in an instant. Reid's face was a canvas of raw concern, his eyes searching for signs of distress. Hotch allowed a rare glimpse of worry to surface as he took in her appearance--the bleeding lip and the bruise blooming on her cheek. Evelyn's hair, though slightly disheveled from the altercation, framed her face.

The team's anxiety was palpable, a collective breath held until they were certain she was unharmed. It was her first case, and the stakes had never felt more personal. Yet, as Evelyn stood there, her bright smile breaking through the tension, her spirit undimmed by the encounter.

"I got him!" she declared; her smile unwavering as she met the eyes of her team.

Evelyn perched precariously on the cold metal edge of the ambulance, the harsh glare of its lights casting long shadows on the pavement. The EMT, with gentle hands, tended to the gash on her lip--a stark red against her skin. Each touch of the disinfectant was a sharp reminder of the day's chaos, a stinging sensation that seemed to echo her inner turmoil.

Despite the pain, Evelyn found solace in the rhythm of conversation, her words weaving between the EMT's methodical treatment. She spoke of trivial things at first, the weather, the relentless pace of the city, anything to keep the silence at bay. Yet, even as her voice trembled slightly, revealing cracks in her usually unflappable demeanor, she smiled--a smile, wistful curve of the lips.

Spencer's approach was hesitant, his hands buried deep in the refuge of his pockets, betraying a casual facade that his furrowed brow contradicted. As he drew nearer, the dim light fell upon Evelyn's features, illuminating the stark contrast of bruised skin against the sterile white of the ambulance's interior. His eyes, a mirror of his internal struggle, winced at the sight, a silent testament to the empathy that swelled within him.

"How you holding up?" he inquired, his voice a soft undercurrent amidst the wail of distant sirens. The concern in his tone was evident, wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

Evelyn, her face a canvas of the day's trails, bore the marks of the ordeal with an unsettling grace. The cut on her lip, now cleaned, was a vivid line drawn across her otherwise smooth complexion. Flecks of dried blood were still visible.

Evelyn's smile, though small and tinged with irony, was a testament to her unyielding optimism. "I've had better nights," she quipped, the humor in her voice a gentle balm against the sting of the EMT's ministrations. As a fresh bandage adhered to her cheek--she winced.

"I know it's part of the job, but... I'm sorry you had to go through that," Spencer said, his eyes meeting hers with sincerity.

Evelyn's shrug was a delicate dance of nonchalance, her shoulders lifting in a gesture that belied the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "Comes with the territory, right?" she said, her voice a mix of jest and earnest. "Besides, we got him, and that's what counts." Her words were a shield, a deflection of the concern she saw mirrored in Spencer's eyes.

Spencer's response was a nod, subtle yet laden with the weight of unspoken words. The corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile, a silent accolade for her courage. "You did good, Evelyn. Really good." His affirmation was simple, but it carried the depth of his respect for her, for the strength she wielded so effortlessly.

"Thanks," Evelyn replied, her gratitude genuine, a softening in the steel of her eyes. "For checking on me." It was a moment of vulnerability, a crack in her armor that allowed gratitude to seep through.

"It's what teammates do." Spencer said, his voice a low timbre that seemed to resonate with the quiet of the night. His gaze held hers, a momentary tether, it lingered a beat longer than necessary.

As the silence stretched between them, a figure approached, his footsteps measured and purposeful. It was Hotch, his presence commanding even in the dim light. He carried with him a blanket. Spencer, ever perceptive, felt the shift in the air and excused himself with a nod, stepping away to give them space. Hotch's eyes met Evelyn's, a wordless exchange passing between them before he spoke.

"You should keep warm," Hotch said, his voice firm yet laced with concern. He unfolded the blanket with practiced ease and draped it over her shoulders, the soft material enveloping in a gentle embrace. His eyes inadvertently lingered on the wound upon her lip, the starkness of the injury drawing his focus. It was a fleeting moment, but in it, there was an intensity. The EMT, giving them a brief nod, finished up and moved aside, leaving them in a quiet bubble of privacy.

Evelyn pulled the blanket tighter around her, the fabric against the night's chill. Hotch's proximity was a force itself, the air charged with an energy that seemed to pulse with each of his measured breaths. She was acutely aware of his gaze, the way it rested upon her with an intensity that was both unsettling and reassuring.

"Thank you," she murmured, her gaze lifting the meet Hotch's steady one.

Hotch's stance was as resolute as his reputation, his figure cutting a commanding silhouette against the flickering lights of the emergency vehicles. "Evelyn," he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of authority softened by a trace of concern. His eyes, usually a guarded fortress, held a glimmer of uncharacteristic turmoil as they fixed upon her.

Evelyn, still cocooned in the blanket, looked up to meet his gaze. The ambient light played across her features, highlighting the youthful resolve etched into her bruised face.

In that moment, as he saw her standing her ground, something within Hotch shifted. The sight of her in the fray, fiercely fighting for her life, had ignited a surge of panic unlike anything he'd experienced with other team members. It was a visceral reaction, one that puzzled him with the intensity. Was it the paternal instinct to protest the progeny of his old friend and mentor, Gideon? Or was it something else?

Whatever the cause, it was a jarring sentiment that Hotch quickly compartmentalized, returning to the matter at hand with his usual stoic clarity. "You know the risks of going off alone, even for a moment," he reiterated, his stern gaze lingering on the cut of her lip--a silent reproof of her impulse.

Evelyn absorbed the words, her own eyes reflecting a complex mix or appreciation and a newfound understanding of the weight of her actions.

Hotch's gaze softened as he concluded, "Despite that, you handled yourself well out there. It's clear you're Gideon's daughter, and that's not just a responsibility--it's a strength. I have no doubt you'll become an invaluable part of this team. You're going to be okay, Evelyn."

#spencer reid x original character #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner x reader x spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fandom #reid #dr reid #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x original character #aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid x reader x aaron hotchner #Spotify

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luaveltarot · 4 months

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Who were you in past life?

🧭

There are a lot of triangles 🔻, mountain ⛰️ shapes and the repeating pattern of 369 numbers. Oh and also the constant as above so below theme going on in your reading. I really feel your previous life changed and transformed your soul a lot. You got to know the basis alchemy of life and how to work with subtle energies.

You definitely had some dual life going on in past life. Since childhood you were a shy person but I see you being a really genius kid. Like those kids who have abundance of knowledge in their secretive life. I see you being really imaginative. However, you were born in a really privileged lifestyle, probably from there you had access to so much of knowledge. In past life your life was divided among three phases,

First one where you were a curious child and from that curiosity stemmed the hunger for knowledge,

Then in second phase you put all sweat and tears to gain knowledge. I

In third phase, I see a place where you were actually able to see your creation in physical form which was exactly like your visualisation.

But the main part is that you were not the brand ambassador of what you created, basically in nowadays how ai programming works, you don’t know who created it but it’s being used by people. So you created this foundation, which was dream ever since you were a kid and when you were able to see it in physical form, there was no room for your happiness. Also, it could most like be for some of you that you were the idea behind a set up which is probably still followed. Your addition in a project turned the whole scenery of that invention and it probably helped you made a lot of money. If there’s some kind of object which you feel these strange connection to and you don’t know why you feel it, then it’s probably your idea, your invention and your contribution in that object.

You chose to remain behind the curtain, you didn’t want your identity to be revealed but that project was solely yours even if another brand ambassador was able to market it better than you.

In this life, if you have an idea, then don’t wait for any opportunity, don’t procrastinate, I think you should see this reading as a heads up that you can create something again, you can create stability for yourself. May be in this life you have to start from the scratch, but don’t let it stop you or demean you in anyway. If you created a foundation in past life which benefited your lineage then you can again too. You have worked really hard in previous life so in this life you could feel lazy lol.

Also you had a favourite tree in your childhood. It’s so cute but I feel that tree was your shade when you had a galaxy of idea and that tree was instrumental in materialising your idea in physical realm.

🧳

This pile definitely witnessed some war scenario. You had sister or sisters in your previous life. lol it’s funny but I’m getting the pride and prejudice scenario where Elizabeth lived with all her sisters and parents. Tbh your life was very much like that.

OK anyway time to start, I feel that from a very young age you were forced to witness war in your homeland. You were even home schooled at home by your sisters and mother. Everything was really depressive as you were growing up but after a long time probably when you were in your mid teenage years, you were exposed to the free air and beauty of nature. However, I feel you could have lost your father pretty early in life and you were really attached to him, giving me daddy’s girl vibes. Your masculinity was well developed as you learned to handle responsibilities and emotions pretty well from a young age.

Times had toughen you but you developed this mindset to live, even if you were to die the next hour, you chose to live happily. You really have the party girl vibes yk like I can really see this scenario where you are cooking some country side dish, singing and dancing around like you live in a musical show. lol I really think that you would be a Disney lover in this life because you could relate it to your past life unconsciously.

You didn’t sulk looking at duties and how much work was left but I see you having this mindset that everything gets done on its own time and you lived carefree. The house that was once distraught because of the war and your dad’s death from previous life, I see you were able to built it back from the ruins along with your sister.

Your love life could have been a transitional phase of your past life because I see you had an extremely happy life, everything you wished for was in front of you. Although life was smooth and happy after you met your love but I see your main focus was your family because you knew that they saw you through all the ups and downs in life. You knew your family sacrificed their basics for you, you were probably the youngest in your family and was loved by all so your family was everything to you.

In this life you could be really afraid of losing people you love, i see you are born really sensitive in this life and your emotions get the best of you (especially if it’s related to your family) If someone tries to harm your family but it’s just coming out of the wound of losing people in past life.

📓

Funny, I was thinking why is there no love aspect in any reading, was no one really in love in their past lives? Like was no one really a hardcore romantic and yes this pile’s major theme was love in past life.

Let me tell you your past life story, your house was on a beach or close to waters, you were probably the only child of your parents, life was decent and you liked to live on your own terms. You were quiet sexy in previous life because you might have way too many admirers who saw you secretively. You loved water, rain and waterfalls (it also could have carried in this life).

Many people of that town could be against the way you dressed as you could be a rebel but anyway you had a lot of people knocking at your door to tell your parents to rein you. However, you did not care. You could have a witch, or an earth angel in previous life who everyone wanted under their wing but you no one could grasp you and that’s what frustrated them to the core.

So your love story begins with a guy, a guy very different from the way you were brought up. You could have literally fallen for a cowboy whereas you were the city girl. He was your twin flame or soulmate whatever you prefer, you felt too strongly for him everything just disappeared and nothing existed beyond him. He was able to understand you in the most authentic way possible. What at that time was strange, he perceived you as normal and he accepted your strange ways of living. To him, you were his world and I think he was really aggressive about being with you. It’s possible you both ran away after a lot of hurdles of not being accepted and able to live together.

The way your past has been carried to your this life is through your relationship, you probably might have to go through a lot of breakups or betrayals in life to actually reach the one you are destined to be with. You might still crave the relationship like the one you had in your past life but no one ticks the boxes the way he did. You might explore too many options and weigh them in this life but it will take awhile to find him again.

#tarotblr #tarot #tarot reading #divination #pac #pick a pile #pick a card #tarot community #tarot witch #luaveltarot #pick a card reading

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infamous-light · 6 months

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Happiness Has Two Hands

Alcina Dimitrescu x Gender Neutral Reader

AO3: Happiness Has Two Hands

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: While reorganizing the library, an unexpected secret of yours slipped out. Lady Dimitrescu's daughters couldn't resist the temptation to exploit this newfound knowledge.

The library, an expansive realm of knowledge and discovery, stood silent, interrupted only by the gentle rustle of pages from the book Daniela immersed herself in and the occasional crackle of the fireplace where Cassandra reclined. The scent of leather and aged parchment filled the air as you were engrossed in the meticulous task of reorganizing several books. With a careful hand, you retrieved each book, ensuring it found its rightful place among its literary companions.

As you focused on the titles and subjects of the books, Bela moved past you, her footsteps echoing softly against the carpet.

Bela, having walked past you, found herself near a shelf adorned with dusty volumes, her fingers delicately trailing the worn spines. The low light from the antique chandeliers caught the subtle glimmer in her eyes as she ran her hands over the weathered covers. She occasionally plucked a book from the shelf, inspecting it with a thoughtful gaze before returning it to its place.

Cassandra, on the other hand, lounged on a sumptuous chaise near the grand fireplace. The gentle crackling of the burning logs created a lullaby, coaxing her into a peaceful nap. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic pattern, and the warmth from the fire cast a soft glow on her features. The occasional flutter of a page turning nearby added a serene ambiance to the room.

Daniela was nestled in a cozy alcove with a particularly intriguing book in her hand. Her eyes were alight with wonder as she devoured the words on the pages. However, in her typical fashion, her attention wavered, and without warning, she closed the book with a resounding thud.

She sprang to her feet and abandoned the book on the velvet-cushioned chair. She began to wander the aisles, drawing closer to your location. Her eyes flickered over the shelves until her attention was ensnared by another book. She reached up, her fingertips tracing the detailed illustrations that adorned the cover.

As Daniela stood on her tiptoes to reach for the book, her sudden imbalance knocked over the nearby pile of books you were reorganizing. You instinctively lunged forward, your hands darting out to catch them mid-fall. Daniela, still regaining her balance, reached out to steady herself. In the process, her fingers brushed against your side in a fleeting moment of unintended contact.

The giggle that ensued broke the library's silence, drawing the attention of Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela. Their eyes met across the room, sharing a moment of shared amusement at the unexpected turn of events.

“Are you ticklish?” Daniela asked slyly as she turned to face you.

“N-No,” you stammered, a subtle nervousness betraying your attempt at composure. “You just caught me off guard. That’s all.”

“Caught off guard, you say?” Bela quipped, a teasing glint in her eyes as she made her way toward you. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

Cassandra, intrigued, decided to contribute to the lighthearted banter. "Well, well," she chimed in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "It seems we've uncovered a secret that you neglected to share with us. How rude.” She feigned a pout in your direction.

“Indeed, a most unbecoming secret to keep from us.” Bela tsked, her voice carrying a tone of mock disapproval.

"Quite dreadful, isn't it?" Daniela remarked with a raise of her perfectly arched eyebrow. "Our dear servant hiding such interesting secrets from us,” she continued, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the coffee table nearby. Daniela leaned forward, her eyes shining in amusement. “What other surprises do you have to hide, I wonder?" She tilted her head in mock curiosity. Her grin suggested that the discovery of your ticklish nature had sparked a newfound interest in unraveling more of your delightful secrets.

"Well, now that we know the secret, what should we do about it?" Cassandra mused, her smile growing wider.

"I believe a closer examination is in order." Bela added with a smirk.

With a shared sense of purpose, they closed the distance, their laughter resonating throughout the library. Leading the charge was Daniela, intent to catch you in her clutches. Her fingers wiggled in the air, eyes gleaming bright with excitement.

"Let's see if our diligent servant can withstand the ticklish scrutiny." Daniela declared.

“Don’t you dare.” You warned, your voice laced with a nervous edge as you backed away from them. However, the twinkle in your eye betrayed the fact that, deep down, you were ready to embrace the impending ticklish onslaught.

“Aw, come now, little one. We only want to have some fun.” Bela crooned as she approached you with measured steps, her gaze fixed on you.

Cassandra, quick on her feet, circled from the other side, her fingers poised like a dancer's pirouette. “We won’t torture you much.” She emphasized the last word with a sickeningly sweet grin.

Pausing, you took a hesitant step back. Bela, ever watchful, noticed your uncertainty, and her lips quirked upward into a knowing smile. "You can try to run but you won't get very far."

Taking your chances, you spun on your heel and sprinted, intent on making a swift exit through the library’s main door. Unfortunately, your escape attempt was short-lived. Within a few steps, a pair of hands grabbed each of your arms and pulled you back with surprising strength. The momentum sent you tumbling onto a nearby chaise lounge.

In a matter of seconds, all three girls had you pinned down. Daniela had a firm grip on your ankles, rendering any escape attempts futile. Bela straddled your hips and hovered over you with an air of amused superiority. Meanwhile, Cassandra, positioned above you, had your wrists pinned on either side of your head, leaving you effectively trapped.

As you lay on the chaise lounge, their laughter filling the air, Bela leaned in, her smug smirk widening. "I told you that you wouldn't make it far."

Bela had her fingers poised above your sides. "Shall we see how ticklish they truly are?" She teased; her fingertips were tantalizingly close to your ribs.

Panicking, you began to plead. "Anything but the tickling, please!”

Cassandra, still holding your wrists, interjected, "Begging already? We haven't even started yet."

With a swift and coordinated effort, they began their ticklish onslaught. Bela's fingers glided over your sides, provoking fits of laughter, while Daniela's touch on your ankles intensified the sensory assault. Cassandra, maintaining her hold on your wrists, watched on with a twisted sense of glee.

Bela’s fingers skittered over your sides before deciding to venture into a more ticklish area.

Wearing a sly grin, she directed her attention to your underarms. Her nimble fingers launched a tickling expedition that elicited a new surge of laughter from you.

At the same time, Cassandra seized the opportunity to explore your forearms with devious delight. Her fingers traced intricate patterns along the sensitive skin.

“Please, stop! It tickles!” You cried out in hysterics, laughter bubbling uncontrollably as their fingers continued their merciless assault.

“That’s the point.” Cassandra chuckled, observing your disheveled state.

Amid the ticklish chaos orchestrated by her sisters, Daniela decided to add her own unique touch to the playful assault. She crouched down and removed your shoes, exposing your vulnerable feet to the impending tickle onslaught. As Daniela's fingers descended over the soles of your bare feet, a new wave of laughter erupted from you.

“No, please! No!” You gasped between fits of laughter, the strain on your stomach becoming more pronounced as the tickling persisted.

“Aw, are you out of breath?” Daniela mocked with a teasing lilt. “Poor thing.”

Amidst the laughter, you couldn't help but wriggle in a feeble attempt to evade the relentless tickling. The girls, however, were quick to adapt to your movements, maintaining their grasp and intensifying the ticklish sensations.

"Trying to squirm away, are we?" Cassandra mocked as her fingers trailed up your forearms.

In an abrupt and unexpected move, Bela’s fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt and made contact with the sensitive skin of your lower back. You gasped at the sudden sensation, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Her fingers traced along the curves of your lower back, and you attempted to shake her off, but your efforts were met with amusement from Bela. Chuckling softly, she reveled in the sight of you squirming under her touch, the dance of your movements adding an extra layer of joy to the impromptu tickle fest.

Taking note of your reactions, Daniela abandoned your feet and shifted her attention to the area under your knees. Her fingers slid up your calves, coming to a deliberate pause at the bend of your knees.

“Wait, no, not the knees!”

But it's too late. Daniela's fingers teased along the delicate skin under your knees, unleashing a cascade of ticklish shivers through your body. Tears streamed down your cheeks as the sensation overwhelmed you.

“You're absolutely adorable like this,” Daniela said, her words accompanied by a wide grin. “Breathless and squirming uncontrollably, it suits you.”

“They do look cute like this.” Bela commented. Her fingers, light as a feather, traced unpredictable patterns along your ribs. The action elicited a sharp yelp from you.

As the tickle torture continued, the doors of the library swung open, drawing the attention of everyone. Lady Dimitrescu stepped inside and came to a halt as her gaze fell upon you all. She arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“What is happening here?” She asked, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Lady Dimitrescu’s heels clicked throughout the library as she approached the scene with measured poise. The corner of her lips quirked ever so slightly as she gazed down at you. You lay there amid the scattered books, breathless, with your cheeks flushed from the exertion of laughter.

“They dared to withhold a secret from us, Mother. It turns out they’re very ticklish.” Daniela said with a playful glint in her eyes.

“Oh?” Lady Dimitrescu tilted her head to the side.

Acting on a sudden mischievous whim, Daniela extended her finger and poked the sole of your foot. You squeaked at the unexpected touch.

“Please, my Lady! Help me!” You pleaded, the desperation in your voice reaching a high note.

A low, melodic chuckle rumbled from Lady Dimitrescu. She regarded you with an amused yet contemplative expression. To the surprise of everyone, she reached down and allowed the tips of her fingers to graze the side of your ribs. The gentle touch prompted an immediate eruption of giggles from you.

“No! Please!”

Lady Dimitrescu chuckled. “I never realized you had a ticklish side, my dear. Though, I must admit, finding this out has been rather entertaining.”

“You’re evil.” You playfully accused while catching your breath.

“I know.” She said with a self-assured smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on, girls. Release them. I believe you’ve tortured them enough.”

With that, they reluctantly relinquished their grip, freeing you from the clutches of their ticklish assault. They all gave you a grin as they left, each one giving you a lingering promise to continue the encounter. As they sauntered out of the room, their laughter lingered like a melodic echo, fading away.

A gentle touch on your shoulder interrupted your trance, drawing you back to the present moment.

“I believe it’s my turn to indulge in a bit of playful torment.” Lady Dimitrescu announced with a smirk.

As her words hung in the air, a blush crept up your cheeks and you couldn’t help but gulp at the prospect of being under her mercy.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil fanfic #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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lefteagleblizzard · 11 days

Text

𝕴𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊

Sean Anderson x gender neutral reader

Summary: you feel insicure and out of place inside of this group of people and Sean does all that he can to express to you how much wrong you are.

It’s so sad that there are no fics for him :(. I felt the need to write one for him considering he is the first one I watched. He is so underrated.

Warnings: no pronouns used for reader. Insecure reader. Best friends to lovers. Soft smut. Soft dom Sean. Sean and reader are 18+ in this one.

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows on the ancient trees that surrounded us. The mysterious island had drawn all of you together. You sat cross-legged on a rough-hewn log, your fingers tracing patterns in the dirt as you listened to the crackling sound of the campfire.

Sean sat beside you. His eyes were fixed on the flames, their golden glow reflecting in his eyes. Sean was brilliant, his mind a labyrinth of knowledge and curiosity. You’ve always admired his intelligence, the way he dives headfirst into puzzles and riddles. But lately, there’s something more, a warmth that settles in your chest when he smiles, a flutter when his hand brushes against yours.

He'd been the one to decipher the code that led us here, and now, with his ankle wrapped in makeshift bandages, he leaned heavily against your shoulder. His pain was etched in the lines around his eyes, but he refused to complain.

Hank, Sean's stepfather, knelt by the fire, tending to the flames. His hands were gnarled from years of hard work, but they moved with a gentle grace as he adjusted the logs.

When Sean had twisted his ankle on the treacherous path, Hank had popped it back into place without hesitation. They never got along that well, but you could see both of them slowly warming up to each other’s.

Now, he strummed a ukulele, its sweet notes weaving through the night air while he tried to cheer him up. The melody was haunting, a balm for your weary souls. You don’t know if Sean felt the same way, however, as he pressed his face on your shoulder, groaning from embarrassment as you laughed together with Hank.

Gabato, the stranger who'd washed ashore with you, Sean and Hank, sat across from Hank. His skin was bronzed by the sun, and he looked deep in thoughts.

Then there was Kailani, Gabato's daughter. She perched on a moss-covered rock, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders.

She was everything you weren’t: bold, beautiful, and unafraid.

Kailani's fingers brushed Sean's as she reached for a piece of fruit, and your heart clenched.

You and Sean had always been close. He was a mix of handsome and nerdy, the kind of person who could talk no stop about something for hours only to stutter an excuse for annoying who was around him.

You had been there, by his side, helping him, supporting him. Hank had even mistaken you for a couple at first, which had left both of you blushing and stammering awkward denials.

Despite your close bond, tonight, you felt out of place, a shadow among these vibrant people.

The conversation around the fire blurred into a background hum as you retreated into your thoughts. You couldn't help but compare yourself to Kailani. She seemed perfect for Sean: adventurous, beautiful, and able to match his curiosity and excitement for the unknown. What did you have to offer in comparison?

You see the way Sean looks at her: admiration mixed with something deeper.

You glanced down at your entwined hands, a gesture that you two made without even realizing it many times but that you now have become accustomed to it.

Sean's grip was warm and steady, but you felt the weight of inadequacy. What did you have to offer in this strange company? You weren’t brilliant like Sean or strong like Hank. You couldn't spin tales that made everyone laugh like Gabato or beautiful like Kailani. You were just the quiet observer, the outsider.

Sean deserve someone who could match his intellect, who could share his passion for unraveling mysteries.

His gaze lingered on you face.

“You’re okay?” he murmured, his grip tightening slightly on my hand.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

His eyes narrowed, and you knew he saw through my lie. But he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back against the log, his expression thoughtful.

“Hmm.” Sean’s voice held a hint of skepticism. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Yes, I know”

Then Sean squeezed your hand, and you looked into his eyes. They held warmth, understanding. You blinked back tears, your heart swelling.

⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈

The night was a velvet shroud, cradling the island in its cool embrace. The fire had dwindled to a mere whisper of its former glory, and the forest rustled with secrets. Everyone else slept, their breaths soft and even, but your mind churned like the restless waves beyond the shore.

You laid on your makeshift bed of leaves and moss, staring up at the canopy of stars. Sean's breathing was steady beside your, his face relaxed in slumber. But you couldn't find rest. The weight of your insecurities pressed down, threatening to suffocate you.

And then, as if sensing your turmoil, Sean stirred. His fingers brushed your cheek, gentle as moonlight. He murmured your name softly, his voice a fragile thread. "Are you awake?"

The night air was cool, carrying whispers of pine and moss. Sean stood up from his position, his expression both nervous and determined. You blinked at him, your heart doing a clumsy pirouette.

“Hey” he said, his voice soft yet resolute. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Do you want to take a walk? Get some fresh air?"

He chose you and not her

You started to get up from your position. “Where?” Your heart was beating faster the more your brain started to understand the intimacy of the situation.

Sean’s eyes sparkled. “Deep into the woods,” he said. “I found a spot earlier where I saw something beautiful that I wanted to show you”

He stood before you, his hand outstretched, inviting you into the unknown.

“But your leg,” you blurted out, noticing his leg free from the bandages you used on him.

He waved off my concern. “It’s fine now. Hank worked his magic. I feel hardly any pain now. Besides, I want to show you something.”

Your heart fluttered. He wanted to share a secret with me. You pushed aside your insecurities and took his hand.

Outside, the forest enveloped you two. The moon peeked through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. Sean led you deeper, his steps sure. You stumbled once, but he caught you, his touch warm and steady.

“Where are we going?” You asked again, voice barely audible.

Sean's eyes sparkled, and he pressed a finger to his lips, urging silence. You were like two conspirators, sneaking out for a midnight rendezvous.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, Sean's steps were catlike,each one calculated to avoid twigs and fallen leaves. You tried to mimic his stealth, but your foot caught on a stubborn root, and you stumbled. Sean caught you, his lips curving into a half-smile.

"Graceful," he teased, and you swatted his arm playfully. "You're lucky a giant lizard didn't hear that."

You shuddered, remembering this morning's close encounter. In a way it made Sean remember that close encounter he had with that dinosaur when he was alone in the center of the earth, a story that you loved to hear from him from time to time and that he loved to tell you whenever you asked.

You were so cute to him whenever you showed curiosity towards him.

And now, in the heart of the forest, Sean stopped. His gaze fixed on a cluster of vibrant blue. Butterflies, dozens of them, flitted among the ferns, their wings shimmering like shards of sky.

"Look," he said, his voice hushed. "They're like living gems."

You watched, mesmerized, as the butterflies danced. Their flight was erratic yet purposeful, weaving intricate patterns in the moonlight. One landed on your outstretched palm, its wings brushing your skin. You held it gently, your eyes alight with wonder.

You reached out, your fingertip grazing the butterfly's iridescent wing. "They're breathtaking."

Sean leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "You know what else is breathtaking?" he murmured. "You."

Your heart stuttered. "Me?"

"I've always liked you. More than liked you. Given the place where we ended up thanks to me I thought it would be better to tell you.“

"But Kailani—" You begin, your voice faltering.

His gaze lingering on your face. His fingers brushing yours.

“Is that why you’ve been quiet tonight?” he said softly.

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to look him in the eyes “I just… I feel inadequate sometimes.”

“Inadequate?” Sean’s voice held a mix of confusion and concern.

You nodded, your throat tight. “Yeah. Like a ghost that nobody notices” His thumb brushed your knuckles. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re amazing, Sean. You’re smart, funny, and everyone loves you. And then there’s me, just ordinary.”

His laughter was soft, a gentle melody. “Ordinary? You’re extraordinary.”

You scoffed. “Right. I’m not as smart or outgoing as you. I stumble over my words, and I’m not exactly the life of the party.”

“You don’t need to be.” His eyes held mine. “You’re enough. More than enough.”

You leaned into his palm, your heart aching with gratitude. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you listened when I kept rambling about that coded signal my grandfather left. You remember all the time that we spent together trying to decipher it? You always cheered me up when I was about to give up from frustration. You notice the little things like the way I take my coffee, the songs that make me smile. And you make the best hot chocolate on chilly nights.”

“That’s just—”

“No, it’s not ‘just.’ It’s everything.” His lips brushed mine, a soft promise. “You’re my anchor. The one who I want to be with all the time”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I love you, Sean.”

“And I love you.” He ducks to kiss you. It's gentle and sweet and romantic, a kiss that tasted of moonbeams and promises. His mouth moved against yours, gentle yet urgent. It was a kiss that held all the words you needed to hear, the reassurance, the longing, the desire to banish your insecurities.

He nudges you to walk backwards until your back hits a tree. Your lips remained sealed in this kiss that was tentative at first but grew deeper and more fervent. Sean's hands moved to cradle your face gently, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, fueled by a passionate urgency. The wild world around you completely vanished, leaving you two enveloped in your own cocoon of warmth and longing.

Sean trailed kisses down your neck, and sucked on a sweet spot which caused you to let out the sweetest moans Sean has ever heard.

"Tonight's all about you”

Sean loved the way you gasped, the way your fingers curled in his shirt as you pressed yourself into him, hips dragging down onto him.

Your laughter, your scent, the feel of your hand on his upper arm, he had become utterly smitten with you and he knew there was no turning back, nor did he want to.

Lips seeking skin, tongue flicking out to pull little gasps from your lips. Soft and yielding as he pressed between your legs, pulling them around his waist. His name torn from your lips as he whispered against them, “precious, wonderful, so good,” he moved slowly, taking his time as he told you just how good you felt.

Loved slowly exploring your body with his, finding new ways to make you gasp his name, new ways that would cause you to arch into him, dragging him closer, his curiosity was insatiable.

As he started pushing in, your eyes filled with tears, of love and euphoria. You whimpered from the intrusion and he just kissed you sweetly to distract you from the pain. Sean noticed the wetness flowing down your cheeks, and kissed them lovingly.

Heat rose to your cheeks, you moved a hand covering your face, stifling an embarrassed chuckle. Sean tutted, pulling your hand away and pressing his lips against yours, hips never ceasing as he felt you tighten around him.

Gods, he was addicted to your small whimpers, the taste of you, all of you.

He smiled, hand catching your jaw, “ready?” you nodded, the coil in your belly tightening, snapping as he went in harder, faster.

It ended like this, you first with him losing his rhythm, driving into you until he let out a groan that he suppressed by biting his face in your neck.

“I love you.” He grinned as you responded with giggles, the sound that always made his heart flutter.

Thank you for reading and for all the likes on my other stories <3

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sunofpandora · 7 months

Text

𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓾s

Part 2.

Spider is 19, Y/n and Lo’ak are 18, Neteyam is 19, Kiri is 19, Tuk is still 7-8.

‘Kxa’ran’ is a random na’vi name I made up. He is 18.

Disclaimers:

Mentions of uncomfortableness, trying to steal neteyams girl, lo’ak and spider being the y/n protector squad once again, Jake giving fatherly advice, Lo’ak swinging (it's called a punch, bitch) Neteyam and Y/n riding off into the sunset 💙👏😫

Not rlly smut but gets a lil steamy at the end.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*

Y/n was a shadow.

She hid herself within the corridors of a raincloud, gentle touches of droplets caressing her skin.

She hides in the whispers, gently singing through the flowers that stitched up the bark of a tree.

Her vision warped into a blur of sounds and colors. I suppose that's why she yearned for nightfall.

On occasion, the sun looms over us like a scolding parent. Fervid gazes and persecuting streaks of heat. A torrid spotlight refusing surrender.

But oh, how she loved the night…

A veil of sounds, shapes, sporadically neon shaded by the incandescent bioluminescence of Pandora.

Secrets and stories scattered among a sea of stars. The moon, a searchlight for souls.

Alluring sirens of the dusk, dragging us to delirium.

If dark, if dreary, if dangerous, if endlessly indefinite, why so amorous?

She spoke to the stars, stole secrets from the sky, and wore moonlight as if a veil.

Sobs and sorrows for the forgotten stories. Requiems for rain clouds and silent storms.

Perhaps that's why she loved the night.

When the world became a shadow, she didn't feel so alone…

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*

Gathering in groups was a normality for the omaticaya.

Today, a group of na’vi was sent to forage herbs, pick fruit, wash away the dirt and grime embedded over time in things like bowls and objects for eating.

They left high camp a bit after morning, departing themselves from the clan’s rocky stronghold and descending below to the jungle.

Y/n sat perched under a tree,

She gently traced her fingertips up the lines of a small white flower, curiosity and soft wonder embedded within the universe of her eyes.

Observation is a powerful thing. Hearing, sensing, seeing things past others grasp of understanding.

It's a binding freedom

“Y/n?”

Shaken from her fortress of solitude, Y/n is met with another shadow.

This one looms. It stalks over what little light Y/n allowed in her small dwelling of dusk within the shade of the tree.

It's raining, but it's not the kind that nurtures.

Plants fall to their knees under the man’s thunder of a laugh, mercilessly triumphant, yet accompanied by no accomplishment.

Kxa’ran.

Y/n peers up in recognition.

Kxa’nan earned himself a place in the flock of warriors Jake trained, Neteyam included. Neteyam and him were commoners of the same stability. Both warriors, neck and neck. Where the Golden Child stood, Kxa’nan rising behind him. One compared to the other. The silent rivalry of two warriors.

Kxa’nan was a shadow. Not a shadow like Y/n. He was a void, it repels vulnerability and authenticity.

Kxa’nan’s movements were rehearsed, not-so subtly flexing himself for Y/n's uncomfortable gaze.

You hate it when he flirts with you because he flirts with everyone. It's a cruel joke, really. Disguising something as binding as affection, to cradle someone's heart within the palms of your hands, to build it a home out of glass and shatter it.

“Kxa’nan.”

You greet politely.

You didn't like him. But you weren't an asshole.

He laughs.

What was even funny?

“Whatcha doing here all alone, huh? I'd thought you'd be with your little friends?”

You assume he's talking about Spider and Lo’ak.

Y/n shrugs, avoiding eye contact as best as one can. Trying to focus on the intertwining pattern within the sky, the dim golden halo that laid itself on the tree, leaking through the canopy-quilted and stitched with shades of green.

Kxa’nan dips his gaze down to Y/n's hands. Nimble, soft things. Drawing lines of tranquility in their wake.

His touch invades streaks of silent panic through your body when he reaches down to touch your hands, and the flower cradled within.

“Is that a flower? It's very beautiful..where did you find it?”

His voice is

You felt exposed.

Choppy, unfinished breaths tumbling from your lips.

His mere presence overbeared you, yet, Kxa'nan was nothing but a hollow shell.

His figure was made of pesky shadows and illusions of whispers that taunted you, like the laugh of a viperwolf.

He was a thief of trust.

He saw something, an interchangeable force the at spread like the roots to each person, tying us to this shape of vulnerability that appeared as a plaything that held no value to him.

Trust, to him, was a game. A continuance of an arousing match of case and capture, where you find yourself caged.

It's like a scythe when it hits, I panic.

Jake calls it anxiety.

Jake dragged his knowledge of it with him when he came to Pandora.

Jake taught you how to breathe.

Funny enough from the man that once needed a mask.

Taught you how to count your breaths from 10 to 1. How to count the leaves on a branch and wait for your chest to not feel so instantaneously heavy.

For a moment the stars fall. The shadow that once deemed itself an attendant of comfort is now a shallow pool of a storm. The ground feels cold, heat rushes to your wrists.

The words bombard your brain.

Leave me alone.

Leave me alo-

“Hey! Back off. I thought I told you not to bother her.”

A familiar five fingered hand finds its home onto Kxa’nan’s shoulder, yanking him back and standing in front of you.

A tall na’vi with the sides of his head shaved and lazily tied off braids barricades you.

“Can you not fucking count? The 8th time this week I've found you bothering her. Don't you have something better to do?”

Lo’am shoved the boy backwards, his voice a low hiss of annoyance.

Lo’ak was an anarchist of his own recklessness. His gaze grazed with fire unapologetically unable to sit still.

Sometimes the smoke and ash becomes a haze of intangible adrenaline. preservations for one’s safety wither away under the charred sky. Lo’ak’s anger was a shallow thing, much like his mother.

That's where people fail to truly see, Lo’ak

He was just as protective as Neteyam, if not more. Lo’ak and Neteyam were simply two sides of one stick, one sharp, one blunt. One can be applied as a knife, the other in aid as a crutch or to lean on.

Kxa’nan scoffed.

“I can't count? Tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Kxa’nan taunted Lo’ak by jabbing at his “demon blood hands”.

A smaller, pale figure appeared next to you, grabbing your arm, pulling me to your feet,

In the unwelcoming sequence of three na’vi, spider remains unwavering.

His gaze stern, annoyed.

“Get lost, idiot.”

Spider glares.

Your wrists don't feel so hot. The ground doesn't sink, the shadows aren't so loud.

Always count on Lo’ak and Spider. As stupid as the two can be.

They were your boys. Your brothers. A type of love that was stitched together out of mismatched pieces.

They fit if you place them in the right position.

“Touch her again and i’ll punch your ass so far into the future you’ll meet the next generation.”

Lo’ak stands, fangs bared, chest almost touching.

Kxa’nan laughs.

It's thin

it's fake

it's forced.

“Y/n, yawne, did you forget to leash your companions before leaving?”

He smirks at you, and you facepalm at the storm approacching

There's a silence. Worth 6 beats.

“The fuck did he just say?”

Lo’am rhetorically asks the jungle air, before turning to spider.

“Spider. What did he just say?”

“I think he called us animals, Lo’ak.”

“Should we let that slide?”

“Me personally? I would never.”

Spider sighs disapprovingly. Like a parent gently urging a child to make the right decision, clean up their act.

That's the beauty of Lo’ak and spider.

They fail to see the true weight of any situation when the two face it together.

Everything dark and dreary dusts away under a bad joke and some back-and-forth

“Guys. C’mon.”

You reach for Lo’ak, tugging him by his armband away from this quandary he's planted himself in.

Lo’ak follows reluctantly, sparing a lingering glare at Kxa’nan.

“Try that shit again, I dare you!”

Lo’ak calls over his shoulder.

“He dares you!”

Spider fans the fire.

You groan, not expecting to be babysitting two idiots today.

“For the love of Eywa you two-”

Your boys. You loved them anyways.

If you were a shadow, Lo’ak and spider were your clouds. Protecting you from looming notions that threatened to tear the darkness.

Neteyam watched from afar.

Neteyam wasn't normally a very angry person.

Inconspicuous glares and silent mumbles. Flicks of his tail subtly revealing his brewing emotions.

Other than that, Neteyam wore a mask.

Accustomed to pleasantries, never daring to chase beyond the notion of familiarity. Having an audience, the constant need to entertain those even he swore to eywa he couldn't tolerate, was a burdening thing.

Eye contact. Smile. Sit up straight. Don't laugh too loudly.

Some swore if they turned neteyam over and searched the right corners, you'd find puppet strings.

His mask grew with the years, cracking only in small fragments wear vulnerability leaked through the crevices, small silent outbursts of leashless emotions.

It's a rare sight.

But at this moment, Neteyam swore Lo’aks fire was spreading.

Loneliness came as a luxury for neteyam. It was the only time he allowed himself to truly become hers.

Some nights, all he dreamed of was her.

Her. Her. Her. Her. Her.

Oh, how he longs for her.

If he kissed her, if he even so much as grazed her skin, he'd fear shed disappear back to the shadows.

Coaxing hesitance was a second-nature concept.

Yet, he's haunted by an insatiable compulsion to protect her.

Ghosts of daydreams, husks of lingering touches and reincarnations of longing gazes. Rain carries ghosts that cherish the fragments of their lives within the darkness of the clouds, because the vexatious luminescent antagonist we claim to be sunlight, provides no sanctuary to a ghost.

Perhaps that's why his daydreams abandon him.

Perhaps the dissipate to his own negligence.

He was always yours. He didn't want you in the way Kxa’nan did. Your heart wasn't a game or an object to be used, then discarded.

You were a story. He would treat you like one of your flowers unless you wished otherwise.

He would do anything for you.

He would steal every happy ending for you.

You preferred small corners in which he couldn't fit. You preferred night to day.

Neteyam was in sunlight.

You were a shadow.

And sunlight and shadow cannot touch.

Neteyams attempts to dim himself always became futile. Dreams of touching you became glimpses. It lingers in a flurry of color, his palms longing for your warmth.

Vexation was silent.

It never screamed.

Until this moment.

Kiri, whom was rambling about the river crystals she planned on collecting, thanking neteyam for letting him use his basket as she waded in the shin deep Creek,

Neteyam’s lne of focus scrutinized the sight a few trees ahead of him.

Kxa’Nan grabbing your hands, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.

He couldn't hear, but neteyam could see your agape mouth, he sensed inaudible shallow breaths.

He was touching you.

Aggression stirred beneath his skin.

How he watched Kxa’nan skip off like nothing happened, after Spider and Lo’ak made their grand entrance and not-so-swift escape.

“Pandora to Neteyam!”

Kiri chucked a yovo fruit at his head.

The man had been staring into space for the last 6 minutes.

Kiri personally didn’t spare something as precious as brain cells on something as meager as the two unbearable creatures she called her brothers, but the occasional pestering that accompanied their relationship has become a necessity.

Kiri had found some feathers near the river on her hunt for crystals.

She was offering them to neteyam for his knife sheath (she’s been begging him for weeks. His sheath is just ‘too boring’ for her taste.)

when she found her brother mindlessly wandering his gaze ahead.

“Ow-

What the hell-

Kiri!”

He glared at his sister.

Kiri huffed.

“Sxkwang. You’ve been zoned away for minutes now! Are you loosing your hearing?”

Neteyam rolls his eyes, his mood suddenly deflated.

“No. I’m fine…”

Kiri’s playfulness withers for a moment.

Kiri was a lot of things.

Kiri was modest, compassionate, candid and capable.

She spoke to the forest the same way Y/n spoke to the stars.

Kiri perched herself next to her brother, nudging him with her tail.

“You okay?”

He shook his head.

Something flickers past Neteyam’s features.

It’s soft, light, a thin layer but its presence isn’t going unnoticed.

Something that can almost be mistaken as regret contorts his features. His confidence has fallen. Not completely, only slightly. A somber shade of gray dances past his face.

There’s a few beats of silence.

It’s not uncomfortable. It’s understanding. The two siblings find a common ground between this void of conflict.

“Do you think mom was ever afraid of Dad?”

Kiri stayed quiet for a moment, the question stilling her.

“Mom? Our mom? Neytiri Tskaha Mo’at’ite?? Afraid of our father?

You humor me, brother.

If anything, dad should be afraid of mom.”

Kiri chuckles, leaning back against the tree.

Neteyam chuckles as well, but it sobers itself in a flash of memory.

When they were small, Neteyam and his siblings would curl around the fire In their families marui, neteyam would sit next to y/n, while Lo’ak laid his head on her shoulder, obnoxiously snoring into like the 6 year old he was.

Kiri sat on the other side, looking up in awe at her father as Jake spoke.

Jake told his children stories of a time that was before the marine learned to see.

He grasped the essence of life: the immunology of pandora. The power, the secret to growth, a true appreciation for the relative importance of things, order, and balance.

He told his children of the corpse of a life now forgotten, where the fallen hometree remains but memories rots.

Jake prayed to eywa his memories could rot with it.

He told stories of earth, as well.

Comparing his wife to Cupid, fond of arrows. How she stopped his heart without even grazing it.

Neteyam was an idiot for love stories. Especially as a child.

Particularly his parents’ love story.

How two people, worlds part find themselves together under the sky of pandora. The day they met. The day the stars aligned and two hearts disregarded the burdens of a cruel reality, and found a home within a war. Found intimacy through the most painful of grieving.

If Jake and Neytiri, a former human and a na’vi,

Why not Neteyam and Y/n?

Why not the sun and a shadow?

Kiri stilled for a moment.

“I guess..maybe there was fear of mom’s loyalties being internally tested?

Maybe she thought she would have been betraying her people if she mated with dad.

Remember the Cupid story?”

Neteyam contemplates it for a moment.

“But mom didn’t mate with dad till after his iknimaya? He was already one of the people. He claimed his ikran, and through dreamhunt.”

Kiri shrugged.

“True. But he kinda got his na’vi card revoked when hometree fell. Don’t you think?

Are you suggesting you want a woman to shoot you with an arrow?”

Kiri chuckled.

Neteyam can’t help but snicker.

A somber stillness comes over him once again, his voice is quiet. Fragile.

“Do you think at one point they thought that..

That maybe they just couldn’t be together because dad was a human?

Because two people are so different, it’s never even a possibility?

That our insecurities fester into doubt?”

Kiri stares with tints of concern for her brother, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He seemed to be getting a bit too worked up for a light conversation.

There was something about embedded underneath. Hidden.

“What if-“

“They loved eachother.”

Kiri interrupts Neteyam’s maddening anxiety for a moment.

“They loved one another.

It’s almost impossible to neglect when your so deeply in love with someone. Even if you convince yourself conditional, unbinding. They were in love.

She held him even out of his avatar when he was dying in that shack.

They were always meant to be, Neteyam…what is this really about?”

Neteyam swallows thickly.

His deep, accented voice grazing the edges of a sharp concept, dripping with denial.

“Do you think the sun and a shadow can fall in love?”

Kiri is quiet for a moment.

She’s not confused.

For once, her brother's mask cracks.

For once; the warrior needs protecting.

There's Something unguarded and raw behind his gaze. There’s something fragile.

And most protect fragile things.

“This is about Y/n, isn’t it. What happened, Neteyam?”

Neteyam sighed.

“Kxa’nan.”

Kiri’s eyes thinned at the mention of his name.

He once ‘accidentally’ tripped her while she was walking, and refused to come clean when neteyam confronted him.

Jake didn’t even like him.

And Jake was the chief of fucks sake.

“What did he do?”

Kiri suddenly felt her own wall go up.

She thought of Y/n as much as a sister as she would Tuk. Memories of giggling and gossiping after the brothers and tuk were asleep and Jake and neytiri went on dates. Telling eachother stories and braiding each others hair.

You were a shadow, and Kiri was your Venus.

“He touched her hands. Just like-

Grabbed them.

And then she had one of her-“

Neteyam makes a motion with his hands to indicate erratic breathing but ends up just deeming himself laughable.

“She had an…asthma attack?”

Kiri made her first guess.

“No-

She had like-“

Neteyam struggles to articulate himself.

“You know when her breath gets kinda shallow? And she just-“

Kiri spares him the embarrassment.

And herself a headache.

“Yes yes. I know-“

She freezes.

“Wait. You saw this happen?”

“..yes I thought I made that clear-“

“And you didn’t go and protect her?”

“….”

Kiri smacked neteyam upside the head.

“Ow! Kiri! That’s the second time you’ve hit me!”

“You skxawng! You fool! You dumbass!

You didn’t go to her aid!?

Eywa help us all. You’re right. You suck at this.”

Neteyam’s ears pin back and he winced.

“I was going to-“

“Bullshit!”

“Kiri I swear!”

“She’s afraid of me!”

The two are still at the brusk's confession.

“Neteyam. Y/n may not be…the most comfortable with everyone but she’s not afraid of you-“

“Yes she is.”

Neteyam cuts her off.

His tone is defeated and blank.

Acceptance is an essential part of grief.

“Neteyam….”

“Doesn’t she know I would do anything for her?

I would steal the night sky for her. I’d make the whole world become a shadow so she doesn’t feel so alone-

It shut myself away so that she has nothing to fear. I’d never draw another breath again if it meant she’d smile.

It’s beyond precious. It’s beyond anything I can describe, sister-“

Kiri’s mind struggled to keep pace with the maddening reality of Neteyam’s violently clashing sentiments.

It hits Kiri.

“You love her.”

“Sister, I worship her.

There must be something wrong with me.

I swear the stars envy her.”

Kiri and him sit for a moment.

“You asked me if the sun and a shadow can fall in love?

Do you remember what norm told us?

Moonlight doesn’t exist. Moonlight is reflected by the sun.

When the world becomes a shadow, the sun provides what little light it can to the darkness so it doesn’t fall pitch black.

She dwells in the dark? Give to her what you already provide.”

“And what is that?”

“Light.”

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*

“Should have just let me fuck him up.”

You groan at Lo’ak’s words.

You, Lo’ak, and spider were weaving a chain of leaves and branches for a hunt festival later that night.

Y/n didn’t like large crowds. She fared better with her two idiots, much to the dismay of other na’vi in the clan.

Spider snickers.

“Maybe if your little boyfriend showed up, he could have swept you off your feet and protected you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Neteyam was probably busy helping Kiri. He probably didn’t hear his maiden’s cry for help.”

Lo’ak and Spider both cackle.

“You two think you're funny? I don’t need neteyam to come defend me.

And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Lo’ak gasps dramatically.

Then he chuckles.

“Listen sis. Our existence is the height of hilarity.

You're just mad that neteyam didn’t come and tell Kxa’nan off.

By the way, Can we get a thank you?

We saved your ass back there.”

It’s roll your eyes, shoving Lo’ak, with a small mumbled ‘thank you’.

“Y/n? Can I get some help?”

Jake comes into view, tapping you on the shoulder.

You stand, following him back to the family marui.

You find yourself helping Jake repair a human object called a ‘radio’.

It played music and could record things as well.

Jake and Neytiri have a tradition. They’d dance the human way at a festival, out of sight from others.

You found it beautiful, really.

You didn’t have parents of your own to witness a growing relationship between. But watching Jake and Neytiri was far more interesting.

Jake seemed to notice how quiet you were.

And not as quiet as usual.

To the surprise of many, you cling to Jake more than you did Neytiri as a child.

Not to say neytiri wasn’t able to take care of Y/n.

Neytiri adored Y/n. Considered her a 3rd daughter.

And well, she was the closest thing to a mom y/n would have after her own mothers death.

It was different with Jake.

Y/n has some flashes of memory with her biological mother.

With Tsu’tey? She had none.

Neytiri found herself in a place that once already held a shadow.

Meanwhile, Hake had to make his own shadow.

Reflections and reality, gentle whispers and ruffling her hair, Jake was gentle as he could be.

He considered Y/n and Lo’ak like twins solely because of their separation anxiety as children.

y/ns shadow and Lo’ak’s fire was a constant contrast in Jake’s life.

Jake would pick her up, rest her in the crook of his elbow; whisper small, gentle things.

Jake was much more protective and diligent over Y/n.

He always thought she saw the world much larger than his other children did.

Jake realized Y/n liked flowers and plants because they were easily satisfied with company.

They aren’t people. She didn’t have to raise her voice or embed herself in a state of stillness.

Jake heard the whispers.

“Does she even speak?”

“She’s a bit old to be hiding like that.”

“Maybe she’d like to play with my child-“

Rueful pesky whispers. That’s all he heard.

Jake didn’t speak. He didn’t raise his voice or even make a sound.

He places his hand on her shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down her back like that day all those years ago under the shade.

Jake would always be your shade.

Your sanctuary for your shadow.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*

The festival raged on below.

You were currently a bundle of nerves as it is.

You had lost Spider and Lo’ak in the crowd and retreated to one of the higher hills to search for them.

You'd think plucking them out of a sea of faces would be second nature, but no, your boys fancied the self of one-sided hide-and-go-seek.

Spider and Lo’ak were your clouds. The radical rebellion within a rain storm. And as you tried to dish out a shimmering reflection off of spiders mask that protected him from the unwelcoming atmosphere of the jungle, the sky grew darker and darker. Laughter run through the air, the fire accentuating features of those who danced with the flames and sang with the embers.

You didn’t hate people. That was a common misconception about you.

You preferred plants to people, because one didn’t talk nearly as much as the other, and the stories within the roots and water, droplets weren’t as near as overbearing as the burdening shrills of overbearing questions. I’m nights like these were the clan gathered in large groups you would sit alone in a tree with Spider and Lo’ak. You talked about everything you were going to do the secret and stars were going to steal for one another.

On occasion, you talked to Spider about Neteyam.

How do you fear this barricaded wall you’ve built around yourself was going to turn into something he could never climb. That may be this archer you dreamed of was simply out of your grasp. You dreamed of him as the sky struck midnight in the colors in the clouds, concealing the world of a shadow you dwelled in.

Spider and Lo’ak made hesitance and patience deem itself as something worth only for baiting you into good behavior. That he would slip from your grass, that your life with slip away in a blink if you didn’t go and kiss him as the mere second.

Nights were filled of him.

His eyes, a paradox of the golden hour. His strong figures sculpted like mountains, his words that painted the sky in the sea.

He wondered if he tasted like sunlight and wind, if his lips were as gently roughed-edged and honed as his voice.

Or if when you touched him, the last salvageable stretches of the sunset would disappear under your lips. And you would return to recycled versions of his lingering touches..

You loved him. You truly, truly loved him.

And what would the sullys think? His parents? His siblings?

You owed everything to them.

They didn’t have to take you in after your mother passed.

Lo’ak was your fire. Neteyam was your sun. Kiri was your Venus. Tuk was your star. Jake was your wind. Neytiri was your mountain. Spider was your cloud.

But you? You were a shadow.

Finding your voice became more difficult as a child.

This shyness, this shadow, this ‘anxiety’ as Jake called it.

This thing. This monster.

Made out of shadows and secrets and pesky loud whispers.

It’s tall with limbs like sticks.

It’s chained to your wrist like an unwanted prisoner.

It sends strokes of dread down your back.

And it haunted you.

When you longed for Neteyam, but this chain around your wrist kept its barricade of darkness.

Even as a child.

You were a little voice who others assumed only cried for help.

When you tugged on Neytiri’s waistband, gently signaling you were uncomfortable, when you hid behind Jake’s leg from prying eyes.

How a small Lo’ak followed you around, looked at you like you held the universe in your hands, you were his big sister. How you chewed on your lower lip, nervously holding Jake’s hand while Lo’ak clung to your arm.

How his fire and your shadow caused a collision within the Sully family, beautifully inharmonious chaos.

You loved Lo’ak. But Lo’ak was your brother.

The closest thing you would have to a brother in this lifetime.

You longed for Neteyams sunlight.

You were a shadow.

Shadows didn’t belong in the light.

Much less to fall in love with it.

To lay beneath his soul, to feel the connection. It’ll always be there. Casting a shadow.

A starless night.

Oh how you longed for moonlight.

You peered down below, your gaze tugged away from your mission to find your two idiots.

You're lost in the beauty of the Omaticaya, people danced in their traditional garb, the drums ruminate through the thick air, and you swore it was the heartbeats of your people.

The fire and the night sky was a beautiful collision dancing off of azure skin.

Then. The rain returns.

“Y/n? Whatcha doing here all alone?”

No. No no no no no.

You whip around to see Kxa’nan.

Your breath leaves you in a soft surge of panic.

“You're always alone. I barely ever hear you talk, yawne. Need some company?”

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

Neteyam was helping his dad cook the fish he hunted earlier over the fire, Neytiri and Kiri assisting with the spices and herbs.

Lo’ak was missing from the picture, nowhere to be seen the whole night since the celebration started.

“Where is your brother?

Neytiri asked, letting Tuk perch herself in her former spot next to Jake.

“You haven’t seen him?”

Neteyams eyebrows raise.

“Was he with Y/n and spider?”

Tuk lifts her head over Jake’s shoulder.

Neytiri, more than displeased at the mention of the human boy, but concern for Lo’ak and protectiveness over Y/m arose.

“Was she with the sky boy and Lo’ak earlier? They went with the foraging group today-

Tuktirey. Stop poking at the dead fish.”

“Sorry mama.”

As if on cue, Lo’ak and spider entered the small tent.

“Lo’ak!”

Neytiri placed her hand on her son’s shoulder.

He was out of breath, looked like he just ran around the entire forest.

“Where’s Y/n?”

He asked in a short gasp.

Jake, now concerned stood to his feet.

“Y/n? Where did you come from, Lo’ak?”

“The festival? I dunno-

I can’t find her. And she hates big crowds like these. Spider had to go back to the lab to get a new mask on short notice, there’s no one with her.”

Tuk giggles.

“Lo’ak was probably too busy dancing with a girl…”

Jake’s eyebrows crinkled.

Neteyam stood at his feet as well.

He left the tent and set off to find you.

He searched the celebration, pushed past the embers and smoke, the thick air of peoples dancing and the sounds of laughter.

On a hill, a little ways off. Two shadows come into view.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

“Kxa’nan..I wish to be alone.”

Kxa’nan groaned at your words.

“Your’e always alone, or you’re hanging out with those two freaks.”

Your shadow dissipates for a moment, anger simmered beneath your skin.

“Lo’ak and Spider aren’t freaks-

don’t talk about them like that.”

Kxa’nan scoffs and your left unhooded with no shadow at all for a moment.

“Don’t laugh. You’re the one always having a pissing race with Neteyam.

Maybe if you aimed your arrow as good as you flexed your non-existent muscles, there’d be nothing to say.”

He hissed at you and grabbed your arm. Being compared to Neteyam was a jab.

A small wince contorted your features, you gasped.

A flash of lights invades both your visions, and a strong arm is wrapped around your waist, a familiar touch, a circle of safety.

A familiar azure skinned archer appears beside you, a protective shield of a glare at Kxa’nan.

“Don’t touch her. Ever. Again.”

Kxa’nan scoffs, but a fortification of fear embeds itself In his eyes. Clearly intimidated by Neteyam’s presence.

Kxa’nan glares at you, unhappy with your savior and his impeccable timing.

His eyes flare yellow. Not a soft golden hour like Neteyam’s. No, and even in a clan where all your eyes share the same tint. At the moment this is a sickening shade of yellow. It flares so brightly you thin your eyes to look away. Your breath hitches in your throat and your voice hides behind the threat of thought.

Neteyam takes a step forward and pushes him away, shielding you from his gaze.

His deep voice honed itself as a rougher edge.

“Don’t look at her.

Look at me.

Don’t come near her again. Got it?”

Lo’ak and spider come into view from behind a few trees.

“Hey! Get away from them. Back it up!”

Spider’s small figure appears much less intimidating then the Sully brothers. But he remains grounded to protect you.

“What the fuck did I tell you?”

Lo’ak grab’s Kxa’nan by his bicep roughly.

“Don’t bother her. And what did you do?”

Kxa’nan glares at you and your four tyrants.

“Y/n, did you really have to bring this whole freak show family with you?”

He bites.

There’s a beat of silence.

And then, Lo’aks fist collides with Kxa’nan’s jaw, hot, red liquid pools from his mouth.

“It’s called a punch, Bitch! Don’t ever touch my sister again.”

Kxa’nan tackles Lo’ak, and Spider body slams the Na’vi.

Tapping his elbow before placing his other hand on his bicep and flinging himself, jabbing Kxa’nan in the ribs with his elbow.

Jake emerged from a few trees away, groaning and trying to grab his son before shit actually got heavy.

Jake places a lingering touch on your arm to make sure you were safe,

Jake drags Lo’ak up by his arm, grabbing spider by his waist.

Spider explains the predicament, and Jake angrily drags Kxa’nan away to be dealt with.

No one messes with his kids.

Lo’ak wiggles his eyebrows at Neteyam, who’s held you close to him this whole time.

And then.

You’re alone.

Neteyam turns to you, his fingers dragging down your cheeks gently.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Talk to me, please..”

Gently cradling your face in the cup of his palms.

A fire alights beneath your skin.

“I’m fine, Nete…he just made me…uncomfortable..”

There’s silence. 7 beats worth.

“How long has he been bothering you?”

Your voice peaks from behind your barricade.

“Awhile…”

“You never came to me, you never told me. Y/n I will always protect you. Why didn’t you come to me?”

His voice was a labyrinth of desperation clinging to hope.

“I’m sorry..”

It’s a small fragile whisper.

And most protect fragile things.

Neteyam gently drags his hands down your neck, another hand gently tracing your rib cage.

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to know that I care for you. So deeply, Y/n.”

Is there another universe out there where I can spare you the pain of love?

Longing for someone so desperately you fear they’ll become aflame under your touch.

Does he taste like fire?

Is the plush of your skin sculpted from shadows?

This love was a painting you never had the courage to count the colors, in fear they would flurry away.

In this fortress of his arms, in this circle of sunlight, in this last surviving stretch of a sunset, there’s a flare.

Neteyam gives to others only to deny himself.

You reach for something made of glass only to see it shatter again.

But not here.

Not now.

You whisper hoarsely as his hands cradle your face.

“I don’t like big crowds.”

He smiles and kisses your nose.

“Then neither do I.”

The two of you sit there, under the canopy of the trees, watching the stars.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

Your head laid on his chest, the only music you two needed was the sound of your intertwining heartbeats.

You traced the lines on his palms, and he kissed your cheek.

Soft whispers and lingering gazes.

“What’s your favorite star?”

You ask him.

You.

He wants to say, but he holds his tounge. Eyes scanning the sky for the perfect star to satisfy your curiosity.

“That one.”

He points to one, it’s in the midst of a cluster of scattered flurries of white specks.

You leaned into his shoulder, his hand gently cupping the back of your head.

“What would happen if they started falling?”

“I’d catch them for you.”

You chuckled at his answer.

He closes his eyes and basks in the aubade of your laughter.

Your soul, gentle semblances of beauty in the space behind the sun.

Love is a sacrificial abstraction. He sees you in signposts and circles, and parallel lines.

Another beat of silence passes.

“Y/n.”

He breaths your name, dragging his finger along your pulse point.

You hear music in the distance.

Not the drums of the Omaticaya, or the flutes of your people.

You peer down over the hill and see two figures slow dancing to a radio in the family Marui.

Neytiris giggles are gently heard as the silhouette of her and Jake dancing comes into view.

You sighed in contentment. Sometimes, you, Neteyam, Kiri and Lo’ak would spy on them behind the tent flap. Observing them dance, Jake teaching her the way people dance on earth.

Neteyam smiles as well.

“I love it when they do that…”

You lean into his shoulder, and he finds himself lost in your eyes once again.

He wishes he could give you the whole world. A place where you can disregard burdens of reality, be tangled with her pages and plants, gardens made of clouds, and laughter, where you can trace the in patterns of her favorite flower, where you can touch the consolation within isolation. It is not loneliness you desire, you don't want the fixation of the introspection within your shadow.

Neteyam stands you both to your feet, Jake’s music dwells in the night air, the stars seem to twinkle in perfect rhythm.

“Neteyam, what are we doing?”

You laugh.

“Dancing, come yawne.

Put your hands here, and my hand goes-“

He pauses before placing his hand on your lower waist, just like he saw his father do.

“May I?”

You nod.

Before you can blink, he sways you with the music, you laugh and avoid stepping on his toes

For a moment, the shadows disappear. The sun burns out. It’s no longer so bright you are forced to shy away to the dark.

Custom, reason, temptation, it all fades behind the stars.

The moonlight traces his figure as you dance, the stars reminisce in your eyes.

You were composed of stories.

Captivating, euphonious stories.

The same stories that you cradled in your pals when you held your plants.

Your souls dance but your gazes remain still.

He gently cups your face in his hands, lifting your chin.

“I see you, Y/n. I have never seen anyone but you, beautiful…”

Your breath hitches.

“I see you, Neteyam. I’ve always seen you..”

When you kiss him, the shadows and the sunlight collide, and soft gasps and and tangible emotions are torn.

There is no barricade.

The distance was only ever created because distance was safe.

But you don’t want distance.

Neither does he.

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

He lays you down on the soft bed of grass, he yearns to kiss every inch of you from your hairline to your ankles.

“Y/n, oh my Y/n…my beautiful, beautiful y/n.”

He whispers your name like a mantra, as if you would wither away into the shadows again if he didn’t pray your name.

Your gasps serenaded him.

Your hands tugged on his braids as he kissed your neck,

“What do you wish for me to do, yawne? Speak for me, my good girl..”

Your leg wrapped around his hip. You couldn’t help but buck into him.

Love like this only haunts you with light that once existed behind the shadow, the one that surfaced behind the sun.

Eclipse is near.

He unraveled you like the universe was beneath your top and loincloth, stroking you with gentle drags of his thumb, his strong arm hooked under your thigh.

“Neteyam-

Eywa please…”

You begged for him to soothe the aching heat

“Shhh. It’s okay, my sweet girl. I’m right here…just keep looking up at those pretty stars. The stars are yours, my love,

Fuck-

Everything, the sky, the sun, the oceans, the shadows they’re all yours, my love. So am I.”

He reached around for his braid and you followed suit.

You both stared into eachothers eyes. The pools of honeyed golden hour beneath the moon.

The sweet nectar dripping down your thighs, your curves traced by his touch,

“Tsaheylu, Neteyam..please.”

Who was he to deny you?

And as you connected the stars fell.

A flurry of colors, a blur of ecstasy, straddled, kissed, caressed, explored.

The drapes of the moonlight bathing you.

Every coherent thought withered into a static of white,

This wasn’t sex. This wasn’t one body entering another for pleasure. This was a soul finding it’s flame.

He begged the deity to never take his shadow away.

“Do you feel it y/n, it’s always been there..I’ve always been here..don’t hide from me again.”

His rough accent voice honed your ears, his nose dragging along your pulse point, you whined in response.

The heat faded away, tranquility returned.

He kissed you, your chin, your lips, your hair, thank you’s and praises whispered as his string arms encircled you.

You laid on his chest, and you faintly hear him whisper

“I think it’s finally eclipse…”

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

-Sunofpandora

2023

“Diaphanous”

Tag list:

@neteyamsoare

@yeosxxx

@lianna75

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

Im SCREAMING right now.

Im super insecure in writing smut but i kinda wanted to try it? It's not really smut tbh just like…really intimate?

Idk.

But I struggled with this fr. Writers block ate me up.

So idk how good this is. Sorry 😭

I hope everyone enjoyed. That request box is gonna be open in the next few weeks but I might be a bit busy so there might be a bit of a wait.

I wanted to include some parallels from the movie, and some references to Jake and Neytiri through Neteyam and Y/n, so I hope everyone caught those.

I hoped you enjoyed “diaphanous” 🌀🪐

#avatar the way of water #neteyam x reader #jake avatar #neytiri #avatar fanfiction #kiri sully #neteyam x you #lo’ak x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam

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cnnmairoll · 10 months

Text

An Enchanting White Day

Character(s) : Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, Gepard, March 7th Genre : Fluff a/n : Starting to get a hang on writing multiple charas and hsr! This fic was inspired by the official white day fanfic hyv posted, I added march just because :3 But also, this is the first time I've written for a female chara! so feel free to give me a feedback!

Jing Yuan, A Handmade Connection on White Day

It was that time of year again, a month after the sweet chaos of Valentine's Day had settled down, leaving behind a lingering air of anticipation and excitement. The city of Xianzhou was bustling with preparation for White Day, a day when people would reciprocate the tokens of affection they had received just a month prior. Among the many hearts that fluttered with excitement, yours beat with a particular rhythm, for you had a special connection with none other than Jing Yuan, the revered general of the Cloud Knights within the Xianzhou Alliance.

Jing Yuan, an enigmatic figure known for his strength, wisdom, and grace, was a man who had captured not only the respect of his subordinates but also the hearts of countless admirers.His tall and commanding presence, paired with his striking white hair and golden eyes, made him a beacon of attraction. Among the many admirers he had, you stood out as someone who held a unique connection with him.

Valentine's Day had come and gone, leaving behind a trail of gifts and sweet tokens from his countless admirers. You, having a special bond with Jing Yuan, were no exception. Among the sea of presents that had been sent his way, yours stood out not only because of its intrinsic value but also because of the genuine connection you shared.

As White Day dawned, the atmosphere within the Cloud Knights' headquarters was charged with activity. Soldiers and aides bustled around, arranging gifts to be distributed to those who had showered Jing Yuan with tokens of their affection. It was a tradition that he appreciated and understood, the significance of reciprocating the feelings that had been expressed.

But amidst the orchestrated chaos, Jing Yuan's focus remained unwaveringly fixed on you. He knew that amidst the throng of admirers, it was your connection that was most precious. As the flurry of activity settled, he made his way to you, a small smile gracing his lips.

Amidst the bustling Cloud Knights' headquarters, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you turned to find Jing Yuan standing there, his presence commanding even amidst the commotion. His long white hair was elegantly tied into a ponytail with a red ribbon, and his golden eyes held a warmth that was reserved for you alone.

"Happy White Day," he greeted in his characteristic composed tone, the words carrying a deeper meaning as he handed you a carefully wrapped box. His fingers brushed against yours for a brief moment, sending a subtle jolt of warmth through your veins.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and gratitude as you accepted the gift.

Jing Yuan's smile widened slightly, as if he had predicted your response. "I made this especially for you. I thought it would be a fitting gift."

With his words, your curiosity grew, and you carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a small, exquisitely crafted bracelet. Its design was delicate, yet its intricate patterns spoke of the effort that had gone into its creation. It was a testament to the precision and care that Jing Yuan put into everything he did.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, your fingers brushing over the beads and threads, marveling at the craftsmanship.

Jing Yuan's expression held a mix of pride and satisfaction as he watched your reaction. "I'm glad you like it. I thought you might appreciate something handmade, something that carries a piece of my own efforts."

As you held the bracelet in your hands, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading within you. It was as if the bracelet carried a piece of Jing Yuan's essence, a tangible reminder of the bond you shared. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in a moment that felt like a private exchange amidst the bustling surroundings.

"Jing Yuan, I…" you began, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your feelings.

He held up a hand, his smile tender. "No need for words. Our connection speaks for itself. Every connection I've made here is important," Jing Yuan confessed softly, his voice carrying an unspoken depth of emotion. "But ours... it's unique."

In that instant, the world around you seemed to blur, and it was just you and Jing Yuan, bound by an understanding that went beyond words. As White Day continued around you, the exchange of gifts and expressions of affection unfolding, your heart remained tethered to the general's presence, to the handmade bracelet adorning your wrist.

Dan Heng, Unveiling Affections on White Day

You never really thought much about romance when it came to Dan Heng. He always carried himself with an air of quiet mystery, a stoic guardian of the Astral Express. But beneath that cool exterior, there was something more, something you were fortunate enough to witness. You knew the real Dan Heng, the one who was unexpectedly sweet and sentimental when no one else was around.

Valentine's Day had been a pleasant surprise. You had gifted Dan Heng a carefully chosen dark bitter chocolate and a quill pen that he could use during his quiet moments. He might not have been a fan of sweets, but his appreciation for the thoughtful gesture was evident in the way his eyes softened as he accepted the gifts. He had thanked you in his usual reserved manner, and you had both continued with your routines on the Astral Express.

Little did you know, Dan Heng had been researching the concept of White Day. He wasn't one to be caught unprepared, especially when it came to showing his gratitude and reciprocating your kindness. The idea of making homemade sweets had been discarded quickly, knowing his culinary skills were far from impressive. Instead, he delved into the databank that held information about you, hoping to find a suitable gift.

However, delving into the databank wasn't as simple as he thought. Sure, there were records of your preferences, hobbies, and favorite things, but Dan Heng realized that there was so much more to you than just the data. He recalled all the times you had shared stories during your hangout sessions—your dreams, your fears, your adventures aboard the Astral Express. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wanted to give you something that reflected the depth of your connection.

Days turned into nights as Dan Heng immersed himself in his research. He began to notice the small things about you that others might overlook—the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about your favorite books, the times when you helped crew members with their tasks without expecting anything in return. Slowly, a plan began to take shape in his mind, one that would require more effort and time than he had initially anticipated.

As White Day drew nearer, Dan Heng found himself working in secret whenever he had a spare moment. He reached out to crew members who possessed certain skills, and he even sought assistance from the conductor themself, Pom Pom. The crew members were surprised by his uncharacteristic requests, but they could see the determination in his eyes, and they agreed to help.

On the morning of White Day, Dan Heng's room had transformed into a makeshift workshop. Various materials were strewn across the table, and he meticulously put the finishing touches on a project he had been working on for days. A knock on the door interrupted his concentration, and he quickly arranged everything to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

When you entered his room, he greeted you with a calm smile, his usual demeanor in place. You exchanged greetings, and then he gestured toward a modest-looking box on the table. "I have something for you," he said, his tone composed.

Curiosity piqued, you approached the box and opened it to find a beautifully crafted journal. Its cover was adorned with intricate designs reminiscent of the Astral Express's elegant interior. Inside, the pages were thick and high-quality, inviting you to fill them with your thoughts, memories, and adventures.

"It's a journal," Dan Heng explained, his gaze steady. "I know you enjoy recording your experiences and thoughts. I asked for help from our crew members to create this. Each page is handcrafted, and I thought it might be a fitting way for you to continue documenting your journey aboard the Astral Express."

You were touched beyond words. The effort he had put into this gift was evident, and it spoke volumes about his feelings. With a smile that held a mixture of gratitude and warmth, you looked up at him. "Dan Heng, this is incredible. Thank you so much."

He nodded, his eyes softening for a moment before he regained his composure. "I'm glad you like it."

As you held the journal in your hands, you realized that this wasn't just a gift—it was a testament to the depth of your connection with Dan Heng. He might have seemed reserved and distant to others, but you had seen the effort he had put into understanding you, appreciating you, and finding a way to express his feelings in a language that he wasn't accustomed to.

As the two of you spent the day together, you shared stories, laughter, and newfound closeness. The handcrafted journal became symbols of the bond that continued to grow stronger between you. White Day had not only been a celebration of reciprocated gifts, but a celebration of the unique and heartfelt connection that existed between you and Dan Heng—the guardian of secrets who had chosen to reveal his most precious secret of all: his affection for you.

Gepard Landau, A Blooming Bond on White Day

As the month of White Day drew closer, Gepard found himself in a rather peculiar predicament. It had been two weeks since you had presented him with a homemade sweet for Valentine's Day, and despite his reputation as an outstanding warrior of Belobog and the captain of the Silvermane Guards, he was utterly flustered. What could he possibly give you in return that would match the sincerity of your gift?

He had sought advice from his sisters, Serval and Lynx, who had teased him mercilessly about his predicament. They'd seen their usually stalwart and composed brother turn into a bundle of nerves, all because of a heartfelt gesture from you. After all, Gepard was meticulous and vigilant by nature, and his straightforward honesty was as much his strength as his weakness.

Gepard's hobbies included a somewhat unsuccessful attempt at growing flowers. It was a less-known fact about him, as most people only saw the warrior in him. He pondered the idea of gifting you a bouquet of flowers he had cultivated himself, but his first attempt had gone awry, leaving him without enough time to grow another suitable arrangement.

Though there was a reputable flower shop in Belobog's town, Gepard hesitated to resort to a simple purchase. He yearned to offer you something that would reflect the depth of his emotions, something that transcended mere material exchange.

The day of White Day arrived, and Gepard positioned himself near the city district during his off-duty hours. His heart raced as he anticipated your arrival, hoping he had made the right choice. When he finally saw you approaching, a warm blush spread across his fair cheeks, and he greeted you with a mixture of eagerness and shyness.

With a soft yet nervous smile, he presented you with a neatly wrapped box. His blue eyes held a sincere intensity as he explained his dilemma. He admitted that he had agonized over what to give you, unsure if he could match the sweetness of your Valentine's Day gift. His voice held an endearing touch of vulnerability as he confessed his feelings.

You accepted the box with curiosity and began to unwrap it carefully. Inside, nestled within delicate tissue paper, was a dried flower delicately preserved. Its petals held an array of soft pastel colors, and it exuded a faint but pleasant fragrance. Gepard's voice trembled slightly as he explained that it was a flower he had cultivated himself, albeit through a process of trial and error.

"This flower... it's not as vibrant as the ones in the shop, but it's a symbol of my feelings for you," he admitted, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I wanted to give you something that would last, just like my feelings for you."

Your heart swelled with emotion as you listened to Gepard's heartfelt words. The sincerity in his eyes and the vulnerable honesty in his voice touched you in a way that words couldn't fully describe. The dried flower, though delicate and seemingly fragile, felt like a tangible representation of his affection, enduring through time just like the sentiment he held for you.

You reached out, your fingers grazing his hand gently as you met his gaze with a soft smile. "Gepard, this is more beautiful and meaningful than any bouquet could ever be. It's a testament to your care and dedication, and that means more to me than you can imagine."

A mixture of relief and joy flickered in Gepard's eyes, his worry dissipating like morning mist. He was not one to easily express his emotions, but in that moment, his gratitude and happiness radiated from him. His lips curved into a genuine smile, and the vulnerability he had shown earlier only added to his charm.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice steady but warm. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, even if I struggle with all these... romantic things."

Your laughter bubbled up at his self-deprecating tone. "Gepard, your sincerity speaks louder than any grand gesture. And the fact that you tried, despite your worries, means the world to me."

As you continued to chat, your conversation flowed easily, both of you sharing stories and insights that brought you closer together. Gepard's guard seemed to lower further, revealing the endearing dorkiness that only a few were privileged to witness. You discovered shared interests and teased each other playfully, enjoying the easy camaraderie that had developed between you.

With the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, Gepard checked the time and reluctantly admitted, "I have duty tomorrow morning, so I should probably head back soon."

Your heart sank slightly at the thought of parting, but you nodded, understanding his responsibilities. "Of course. Duty calls, after all."

Gepard's blue eyes held a hint of regret, but he mustered a determined smile. "I promise we'll have more time together soon. Maybe we can even work on my flower-growing skills together."

You chuckled, appreciating his enthusiasm even in the face of his admitted lack of expertise. "I'd be honored to help you nurture flowers, Gepard. Who knows, we might end up with a garden full of stories."

As you said your goodbyes and watched Gepard walk away, the dried flower brooch glinted in the fading light, a constant reminder of the connection you had forged. White Day might have been about reciprocating gifts, but what you and Gepard had shared was something far more precious—an exchange of hearts, vulnerabilities, and the promise of a blooming future together.

March 7th, Captured Moments of White Day

It was a crisp March morning, and the anticipation in the air was almost palpable. March had been planning something special for you. White Day was here, and while the exchange of Valentine's Day gifts had left a warmth in your heart, March was determined to make this day just as unforgettable.

March had put so much thought into this day, carefully considering what would make you smile. She was a spirited and quirky young woman, known for her love of photography and her penchant for all things adorable. She had a reputation for being creative, and today was no exception.

As you stood there, March approached you with a playful twinkle in her pink and blue eyes. "Are you ready for your White Day surprise?" she asked, her voice a mixture of excitement and nerves. She gently tied a blindfold around your eyes and took your hand, leading you through a series of twists and turns until you reached her room.

With a flourish, March removed the blindfold, revealing her meticulously planned surprise. The room appeared the same, yet different – there was a box waiting for you, its presence a tantalizing mystery. With curiosity piqued, you reached out and slowly lifted the lid.

The sides of the box gracefully fell away, revealing layers upon layers of polaroid photos. Each image captured a moment, frozen in time – a candid shot of you laughing, a snapshot of a shared meal, a stolen glance that spoke volumes. You couldn't help but be touched by the effort March had put into preserving these memories.

But the surprises didn't end there. Delicate, hand-crafted butterflies in shades of pink and blue fluttered out of the box, a testament to March's creativity and attention to detail. These butterflies carried her signature colors, a symbol of her thoughtfulness and care. They danced around the room before settling near you, as if inviting you to partake in the magic of the moment.

Turning to face March, you were met with her beaming smile. She held out a bouquet of your favorite snacks, an array of treats that she had carefully selected just for you. "Happy White Day!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious.

You accepted the bouquet with a grateful smile, marveling at the variety of treats she had chosen. From savory to sweet, it was as if March had compiled a treasure trove of your most cherished indulgences. "This is amazing, March," you said, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness.

She beamed with pride, her eyes sparkling with delight. "I'm so glad you like it! I wanted to make sure you had a little bit of everything you love."

As you both settled into the room, surrounded by the fluttering butterflies and the scattered polaroid memories, March gestured to the photos that adorned the space. "Each of those photos holds a special moment," she explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I wanted to capture the moments that make us, well, us."

You found yourself drawn to the images, each one telling a story of your time together. There was a candid snapshot of you helping March pick flowers in the park, a mischievous grin on both your faces. Another photo showed the two of you caught in a fit of laughter during a movie night, a shared bowl of popcorn between you.

"Remember this one?" March pointed to a photo where you were both attempting to bake a cake, flour smudges on your faces and the kitchen a delightful mess.

You chuckled, the memory coming back to you in a rush. "How could I forget? We turned the kitchen into a battlefield that day."

March laughed wholeheartedly, the sound filling the room with warmth. "Yeah, but we had so much fun, didn't we?"

It was moments like these that made your connection with March so special. The ability to share laughter, create memories, and embrace each other's quirks was a testament to the bond you had built.

As you sat down together, the snacks spread out before you, March suddenly spoke up "I hope White Day feels as wonderful for you as it does for me," she admitted, her gaze meeting yours.

"It's more wonderful than I could have imagined," you replied, sincerity lacing your words. "And that's all thanks to you, March."

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon sharing stories, indulging in the treats, and relishing in the comfort of each other's company. With each passing moment, you realized that March had managed to create a White Day that was uniquely tailored to your connection, one that celebrated your journey together.

As the day drew to a close, the room was bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun. March looked at you with a mixture of contentment and affection. "I'm so glad I could make this day special for you," she confessed, her voice filled with genuine emotion.

"You did more than that," you assured her, your heart swelling with gratitude. "You made this day unforgettable."

March leaned in, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. In that moment, it felt as though the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of shared emotions.

With a gentle touch, March's lips met yours, a sweet and tender kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, love, and the promise of many more moments to come. When you finally pulled away, you could see the affection in March's eyes, a reflection of the connection that had blossomed between you.

"Happy White Day," she whispered, her voice a soft melody that resonated in your heart.

"Happy White Day, March," you replied, your voice equally tender.You knew that this White Day would forever remain etched in your memory as a celebration of love, shared moments, and the beautiful journey you were embarking on together.

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mystery-ticking · 2 years

Note

What is an appropriate way for people to address the Tribunal gods of Morrowind in this place?

As with addressing anyone; in such a way that your words take from neither of you.

Above all, ours is the service to our people. Call us what you need to call us.

#c: sotha sil #curiosity among patterns

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inbarfink · 9 months

Text

Among the various readings and interpretations of What the Hell is Up With the Ending to the DHMIS Web Show - one of the more interesting ones (from my perspective, at leas) has always been that it’s all a metaphor for repeating patterns of trauma and/or abuse.

As in, most of the narrative of the DHMIS Webshow has been some sort of surrealist metaphor for Roy being an overcontrolling and manipulative parental figure for his son and his friends

And then the ending shows them finally escaping his influence -

Only that without a frame of reference for just how screwed-up their upbringing really was and without any healthy way to process their various traumas, they end up being in danger of just replicating his abuse on their own. Either on each other or maybe on the color-swapped characters who can, like, represent their own children or something.

And so the vague ending of the Webshow is an open question, yes, the trio might’ve gotten physically away from Roy’s influence - but are they free from it mentally?

Or are they doomed to snap back into their old familiar world?

And the interesting thing about this is that like… that could be what the Web Show is about on a metaphorical level. But in the TV Show, with its greater emphasis on interpersonal conflicts and the characters - the idea of our main trio unknowingly replicating the abuse they live under is not just something we can hypothetically ruminate on. It’s something we can actually see, something we can actually feel.

Like, the first thing that made me think of Yellow and Red’s interactions with Stain Edwards.

This is basically the closest the Three of Them can get to being parental figures within the confines of the Format. He starts out as such a sweet and curious child-like being, his title for himself is literally ‘the Forever Boy’. And, well…

Red and Yellow are just so uncomfortable with his curiosity and thirst for adventure that they basically immediately try and stomp it right out. And that’s like a whole big thing about DHMIS, isn’t it? The way that children’s edutainment and the education system actually curbs children's curiosity and desire for learning so they can better memorize easily-digestible simplified concepts and Respect Their Authority Figures.

You know, it’s the whole thing with…

And that’s kinda how Red acts with Stain? He’s a lot less violent and more subdued about it - but he also discourages the little guy from asking questions and wanting to explore the world.

And he is trying to push him into fitting more into the Format. And, like, managing his life like the Trio’s own life is managed by the Format. First more generally into what being part of the DHMIS main trio is supposed to mean (‘just sit here and something will happen’) and then eventually literally turning him into something he didn’t want to be.

And from our more familiar perspective, it’s clear that Red Guy really just genuinely thinks at this point that sitting passively and Waiting to Be Taught At is how things are Supposed to Be and can’t really imagine things going any other way. He is honestly just trying to get Stain to understand how their life is supposed to work. (Well until it starts becoming about making a new Duck)

And it’s also clear to us how much Red Guy is motivated by just unaddressed grief about Duck and wanting to avoid conflict with Yellow Guy, who's a lot more explictly lashing out at Stain in his grief

"What's the matter with him?" "Nothing. Just don't look at him." "What? Where can I look? I can't look at him, can't look over there..." "No, if, if you want to look at stuff, just tell me and I-I'll make a list. Of where you should or should not look..." "Seems like a weird system..." "Yeah, well, you seem like a weird little...thing with...and you don't even... the other guy at least had his own clothes"

But looking at it from Stain’s perspective, taking aside our understanding of Red’s character and motivation. This is just an authority figure giving him a nonsense set of rules and then lashing out at him when he questions it. Never giving a deeper explanation than ‘this is how it’s supposed to be’ and basically punishing his curiosity.

Kinda like, well, how the Teachers tend to interact with the trio.

And then there’s Yellow Guy who’s just totally lashing out at Stain through the whole thing, because, again, he can’t process the grief of losing Duck. Because his environment did not give him the tools to properly process that trauma and he has no healthy frame of reference to grief and that’s kinda...

Yeah, that’s just what I was talking about. Stain’s subplot in ‘Death’ is just Yellow and Red having not interrogated their abusive environment and not really dealing with their trauma and thus repeating the patterns of the Teachers on their new child-like figure.

Which then culminates with either Duck killing Stain in the name of preserving the status-quo of the format (“there’s only supposed to be three of us”) or with Stain having internalized so much of what Yellow and Red (but mainly Red) taught him about what he’s supposed to be that he was willing to kill in the name of the Format - and then slotted in perfectly in the unadventurous, unquestioning role of Duck.

And this lil narrative is especially interesting if you believe any variance of the David Theory. Because Yellow and Red were mainly motivated in their mistreatment of Stain by their Grief about a ‘dead’ family member. Which could mirror Lesley's trapping and mistreatment of the trio and her own motivations.

But I think this idea of mirroring and repeating patterns of abuse are reflected in more than just this one episode. It’s also reflected in the way Red and Duck tend to mistreat Yellow.

Because while Yellow doesn’t slot as neatly into the Child position like Stain did- his simplistic naïveté does mean he often plays a Child-like role in our favorite Forced Family dynamic. And the way that Duck and Red can often condescend to him can… very well mirror the condescending way the teachers address all three of them.

Especially when you also consider the similar manner both the Teachers and Red + Duck react to Yellow being fully charged in ‘Electricity’. They are all so nervous about Yellow breaking away from his supposed ‘role’ as the Stupid One.

And they especially all seem so very insecure about the idea that Yellow might be smarter than they are.

And that’s, you know, also an aspect of children’s education that tends to actually harm children and their curiosity. This desire for ‘respect’ towards authority figures and this egotistical need for teachers and parents to always be smarter than their kids - causing them to subtly or bluntly punish children for just being clever or inquisitive.

It’s, you know “I’m the adult, you are the child. I am supposed to be the Smart and Knowledgeable one and you are the one who must be taught. And you need to play your role!”

Again, that seems to be the whole thing in ‘Time’.

Here it’s a lot more subtle and less openly hostile, but Yellow can tell that just like that Insurance Teacher, Red and Duck’s egos have also been hurt by the fact that they might not be smarter than Yellow Guy anymore. And he considers going back to the role he’s ‘supposed to be’, even though being fully-charged seems to feel better for him (‘this doesn’t feel wrong’), just for them.

That’s almost literally a child giving up on a pursuit of knowledge just to placate his parental figures.

And then, you know, his refusal to do so and his assertion of his own ability to make decisions for himself (his own maturity, "they're not in charge of us anymore" "Maybe they never were") is directly what leads to him ascending and disassembling not just the trio’s dynamic but the very structure of the Format.

And I think, it’s not just that Red and Duck’s treatment of Yellow mirrors the way the teachers treat the Three of Them - it might be a result of it as well. With how condescending the teachers are towards them in general, bullying Yellow is their way to assert some sort of maturity and intelligence for themselves. It's super-fucked up, but this is how they internalized expressing what ‘intelligence’ is supposed to look like. And they have no frame of reference for a way of feeling smart or in control that doesn’t involve shutting someone else down. Because that's what literally every authority figure does for them all the time.

Now, do I think that means that our trio is doomed to mirror those patterns? That they will always inevitability repeat the horrors they go through on each other and others? Well, just like with every ‘cycle of abuse’, it can always be broken. But it will take some actual understanding and self-awareness and personal healing from the trio.

And without this, they’re not just trapped within the Horrors physically, but also spiritually as well. Without it, no matter if they do manage to run away, on some level, their journey will always end up back at home....

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dmitriene · 9 months

Text

— coquettish unveil.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «now let my body do the moving»

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «and let my hands do the soothing»

summary: sometimes even the most familiar routine can lead to unexpected things, you just need to be a little bolder. content: bartender re2 leon x fem reader tags: nsfw, smut, fluff, comfort, teasing, mentions of alcohol, reader is calling leon a puppy, flirting, kisses, oral m receiving. author's note: hope you don't tired of bar encounters, because this one is going to be just a little bit spicy, hope you'll like it! enjoy your reading) 🌙 (18+ warning)

In the bright pattern of your young adult life, the charm of parties and gatherings is deeply woven into your daily routine, sharp laughter and the charm of new faces were your constant companions on weekends and evenings, nights often found you among a sea of friends, music and the seething lights of clubs, house parties and always favorite bars.

Bars in particular have a special place in your heart, the ambient hum of chatter, the gentle clink of glasses and the enveloping aroma of alcohol created a unique symphony that resonated with your soul, in one particular establishment you became something of a familiar face, and your presence reserved a seat for you among the regulars, the bartenders knew your drink preferences, and the atmosphere welcomed you with the warmth of home.

However, it was on one of these modest nights that the atmosphere had undergone a slight change, the air still saturated with the anticipation and merriment that usually accompanied such meetings, but there was an electric charge, an undercurrent of something unusual that was about to unfold.

Sitting in your usual place at the bar, you saw familiar sights — dim light casting shadows on old wooden furniture, bartenders deftly mixing concoctions, and a background of laughter painting the canvas of the evening, but in the midst of a familiar scene, your eye was drawn by a figure who seemed to materialized from another world.

A head of blond hair, casually and charmingly tousled, crowned a face that epitomized the dichotomy of raw masculinity and undeniable boyish charm, his blue eyes sparkled with an innocence that stood out against this world of revelry, he was like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, yet paradoxically, he seemed to belong in a way that defied logic.

As if driven by fate, your eyes met his eyes in a moment that seemed both accidental and deliberate, his lips curved into a timid smile and you answered with a mutual smile, curiosity mixed with surprise, among the noise and bright tapestries of the bar your world narrowed to encompass only him.

Every glimpse seemed to carry a hint of recognition, a silent acknowledgment of a deep seated intrigue, the charm he radiated, like that of an infatuated puppy traveling through the adult world, became intoxicating in itself.

The atmosphere of the bar, once a symphony of collective energy, began to turn into a private performance for the two of you, the laughter of strangers and the clink of glasses was replaced by a distant whisper, leaving only lingering traces of his gaze on your skin, each shot you downed felt like a heartbeat, a countdown to the next time your eyes would meet.

As the night deepened, the unspoken charm between you grew stronger, weaving an invisible thread of expectation that brought you closer every moment, his gazes were like secret notes, his blue eyes traced the contours of your face with reverence that took your breath away, rough the honesty in his eyes revealed a truth he couldn't put into words — he found you incredibly beautiful.

The bar itself seemed to take on an air of conspiratorial mystery, its walls reflecting the hushed conversations of strangers entangled in their own stories, and amid this orchestral symphony of moments you felt yourself drawing closer, the space between you becoming less of a divider than an invitation.

Intimate touches, no matter how fleeting they were, spoke volumes.

As you took the drink from his outstretched hand, your fingers touched his in a subtle dance that sent electrical shivers down your spine, as if the touch was filled with meaning beyond its simplicity, a whisper of connection that resonated with every nerve ending.

In response, his skin flushed, a gentle blush painted his cheeks like a canvas, his vulnerability was sweet, a reminder that despite the bravado of the world around him, it is the smallest gestures that can ignite the deepest emotions, the atmosphere seemed to reflect the rhythm of your heartbeat, a syncopated melody that reflects the growing chemistry between you.

Against the background of the bar atmosphere, you both participated in this silent dance — stealthy glances carrying promises and gentle touch of fingers that paint the canvas of the evening with shades of possibility, a bar that was once a bustling arena — now existed solely for the sake of the story that unfolded between you and the charming blond at the other end of the room.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌➽─────────❥

As night fell, the air in the bar seemed to take on a slightly different hue — a mixture of anticipation, mischief and liquid courage that gave you courage, once muffled laughter now resonated with carefree swagger, and the clinking of glasses was accompanied by knowing glances from friends, it was a night full of opportunities, and you again felt drawn to that charming blonde in the corner of the room.

With newfound courage, supported by the warmth of alcohol coursing through your veins, you let your playful side take the lead, your glances became less fleeting, more attentive, as if every exchange of glances contained a secret promise, each sip of the drink felt like an initiation into a flirtatious dance that was as exhilarating as it was intoxicating.

And then, as if guided by some kind of unspoken agreement, your eyes met again, this time your smile was more pronounced, the curve of your lips saying a lot without uttering a single word.

The corners of his mouth twitched in response, caught between surprise and delight, there was charm in his awkwardness, a vulnerability that was disarmingly cute.

Taking the opportunity to bridge the gap, you leaned a little closer and your voice softened over the background noise — «You look like that guy who feels at home with a loyal labrador, not in a place like this»

He laughed, and in that sound there was both self awareness and a note of self abasement — «I won't deny that i've never been the soul of the party»

You shook your head with a teasing glint in your eyes — «Well, i find it quite refreshing, and you have this… puppy charm»

The compliment seemed to take him by surprise, his cheeks turning a pink blush that contrasted with his well groomed, serious appearance — «Puppy charm? That's nice?»

You leaned even closer, your voice was like a conspiratorial whisper — «It's the best thing, it makes you stand out from the crowd»

His smile was sincere, his blue eyes sparkled in the dim light — «Well, in that case, i'm glad i was able to stand out from someone»

The dialogue between you continued to develop — a delightful exchange of witty remarks, anecdotes and flirtatious teasing, each word kindling the flames of attraction, creating an atmosphere that was as intense as it was uplifting, the air was filled with the promise of something more, a connection that challenged the boundaries of the bar.

As the night wore on, your playful jokes turned into an engaging dialogue that seemed to exist in a bubble of its own separate from the rest of the world, with each conversation deepening the connection between you and the blonde, creating an atmosphere filled with anticipation and desire.

With a smirk that was a bit mischievous, you leaned against the bar, gazing at him intently — «So, Mr. Puppy Charm, what does a guy like you do in a place like this?»

He chuckled and that warm sound seemed to fill the space between you — «Well, i could ask you the same thing, you stand out here like a breath of fresh air»

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence and incomprehension — «Oh, really? And what makes me different from others?»

His eyes lingered bashfully on your lips for a moment before he met your eyes again — «First of all, you're not like anyone else here, you've got this… discreet beauty that cannot be ignored»

Your heart skipped a beat, his words ignited a spark inside you — «Underrated beauty, huh? Is that your way of saying I'm not trying too hard?»

He laughed, and that ringing laugh seemed to resonate with the rhythm of your heart — «Exactly, you are like a quiet magnet in a room full of noise»

The playful communication continued, each sentence a stepping stone that brought you closer together, with a knowing smirk you reached for your drink on the bar, letting your fingers touch his arm, the touch sent shivers down his spine, the bond between you growing stronger with each touch of skin.

He looked at you with a cheerful gleam in his eyes — «You know, you're not going to make it easy»

You leaned over, your voice dropped to a sultry whisper — «Who says i want it easy?»

His cheeks flushed, his fingers ran nervously along the rim of his glass — «You're something else»

Your laughter blended with the ambient noise of the bar, creating a unique melody — «I can say the same about you, it's not every day i meet a charming guy who looks like he'd rather be in a dog park than a bar»

He leaned closer, the space between you was reduced to nothing — «Well, i'm definitely happier right here and now»

Words hung in the air filled with unspoken promise, with a playful smile you raised your glass — «For unexpected meetings and charming puppy mood»

He nodded his head, his eyes meeting yours with such intensity that your heart began to beat faster — «To new beginnings and the search for someone who sees beyond the surface»

As the night wore on, the atmosphere changed again, the intimacy of your words creating a cocoon of shared secrets and vulnerabilities, the chemistry between you was undeniable, a force that seemed to draw you closer every moment.

And then, as the lights in the bar began to dim and the crowd slowly dispersed, you found yourself at the crossroads of something unusual, with a mixture of awe and excitement, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, not taking your eyes off him.

He swallowed nervously, his voice like a whisper and whine, carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words — «A-are you.. sure?»

Leon leans against the counter, his eyes fixed on you as you approach him, he watches you, a hint of an embarrassed smile playing on his lips as you kneel in front of him, a soft glow of dim light creates a seductive aura around you, heightening the intensity of the moment.

He gently and tremblingly runs his fingers through your hair, his touch is both tender and submissive, his eyes a combination of awe and adoration as he looks down at you.

Your hands slide up his legs and he gasps as your lips touch his robed body and he lets out a low whine of pleasure.

The long silence is broken only by the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of your breathing, leaning against the counter, he watches you slowly unbutton his pants, freeing his cock from its borders, his expression softens, tenderness appears in his features.

— «Please..» he whispers in a whining and hoarse voice.

His eyes are fixed on you and he watches carefully as you guide your hand towards his hardened cock as you begin to stroke him, your touch gentle and careful.

His free hand reaches out, his fingers gently sliding along the contour of your face, along the line of your jaw, the blonde's touch is gentle and he leans down in an impatient manner, covering your lips with a slow, long kiss, his tongue gently exploring the depths of your mouth.

You maintain eye contact with him as your lips part, a mischievous gleam in your eyes as you release his cock from his pants and your lips part, you take him in your mouth, your tongue spins around the tip and you begin to suck it in slow, deliberate movements.

Leon struggles to maintain his composure, his breathing becomes slightly ragged and his grip on the bcounter tightens, making his knuckles turn white from the pressure applied.

As you continue to please him, your lips slide up and down his cock, your tongue swirls and teases him with every stroke, you maintain a steady rhythm, alternating between gentle sucking and playful tongue movement, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him and you feel him becoming harder in your mouth.

His eyes drop from time to time to meet yours, his gaze reflecting a mixture of desire and urgency.

You continue to suck and please him, your mouth working hard as you stroke the base of his cock with your hand, the sensations intensify and you can feel his hips twitch slightly — a sign that he is struggling to maintain his composure and let you do all the work.

Leon tries to hide his reaction, but his breathing gets heavier and his grip on the table tightens even tighter, his voice trembling slightly as he addresses you in a submissive whine — «Please c-continue, don't stop, i n-need you»

You look at him with a mischievous smile and a glint of satisfaction in your eyes as you continue to please him, the corners of your lips curling as you maintain a steady rhythm, your mouth and hand working in harmony bringing him closer to the edge.

Your smile widens as you feel his desperate need to relax, his body tightens and his breath hitches with every movement, you are pleased to know that you are able to give him such pleasure, even despite his awkwardness.

His eyes meet yours, a mixture of desire and gratitude shining in them, and he lets out a low, grateful moan, unable to fully suppress the pleasure you give.

You keep sucking and stroking him, your smile never faltering as you enjoy your ability to push him to the limit, your actions fueled by mutual desire and a bond between you fully aware of the thrill.

His voice becomes even more submissive when he speaks, a mixture of desperation and admiration in his words — «J-just like that, keep going, y-you're driving me crazy, i need you so much right now»

You answer his request with a cheeky smirk, stepping up your efforts, determined to take him to the extreme and bring him the relief he desires.

As you continue to please him, you feel your arousal grow, the spontaneity of the situation combined with the sounds and reaction of the blond begins to kindle a fire inside you, your breathing becomes more intermittent, and a quiet moan breaks from your lips, muffled by the current task.

The feel of his pulsating cock on your tongue and his taste only further fuels your desire, your movements becoming more fervent, your hand gripping his cock tightly as you bob your head up and down, sinking in deeper with each thrust.

As your own arousal intensifies, your body responds with a craving for attention, your body throbs with need, and the rising wetness wets your inner thighs, you can't help but squeeze your legs together, trying to get some friction to ease the building tension.

Leon feels the change in your arousal too, his eyes gliding down to where you are sitting on the parquet floor, he can see the clear signs of your need, the subtle movements and the blush coloring your cheeks, and this only enhances his own pleasure, knowing that this moment touched you as much as it touched him.

Your movements become more insistent and intense, using all your skills and technique to push him to the pinnacle of pleasure, the combined sensations of your mouth and hands working in unison pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

With a last desperate moan, Leon gives in to orgasm, his body tensing and you feel the pulse of his release as he pours his cum into your waiting mouth while you maintain eye contact with him, your gaze full of adoration and a hint of mischief.

You maintain your position and greedily swallow every drop of his cum, savoring the taste and reveling in the closeness of the moment, the feel of his pulse on your tongue only heightens your arousal, leaving you craving more.

Leon is breathless as he witnesses your actions, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction on his face, he watches you with a mixture of awe and appreciation, his eyes fixed on yours as you continue to please him even after his release, helping him down from peaks of orgasm.

Although his body relaxes, the connection between you remains electric, the air is filled with the aftermath of your shared ecstasy and you both enjoy the aftermath, the intensity of the moment still lingers in the room.

Once his orgasm subsides, Leon lifts you gently from your knees, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you into a passionate kiss, his taste lingering on your lips and tongue, reminding you of the pleasure you both recently shared.

As your lips meet, the intensity of the moment deepens, the mixture of desire, gratitude and affection fueling the fiery bond between you, the kiss is filled with the burning bond formed and shared understanding, bringing you both closer together.

Leon breaks the kiss, his voice full of tenderness and desire, puppy like devotion — «You're incredible» he whispers into your lips, his hands gently caress your face

You look into his eyes and a soft smile plays on your lips before you bend down again to meet your lips together, wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering against his lips — «Glad you liked it, pretty boy»

He suddenly swallowed nervously, his voice sounding more like a request than a question, carrying the weight of sincere interest and appreciation — «Can i walk you home?»

Your heart overflowed with feelings, it would seem that a very simple question sounded incredibly charming from his lips, that it was not even in your thoughts to refuse — «I'd like that)»

As you stepped out into the cool night air his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you closer, the world around you faded following the night canvas, leaving only the two of you under the starry sky, and as you walked side by side his awkward but fleeting sincere kisses marked the beginning of something interesting — something that started from a flirtatious whispers.