#satisfying afterburn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wheneclipsefalls · 7 months

Text

Ma Neteyam pt.14

Do me a favor y'all and let you me know what you think of this chapter. For some reason I really struggled to feel satisfied with it, constantly obsessing over whether or not it turned out ok. I could really use some feeback right now. Love you! <3

Part 13 I Masterlist I AO3

Pairing: Omega Neteyam (20 yrs old) x Alpha Male OC

Synopsis: The days following Neteyam's heat don't go as planned.

Warnings: aged up characters, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mentions of smut MDNI, male x male, omegaverse, power imbalance, omega/alpha dynamics, gore, blood, injury, trauma, anxiety, etc.

The next few days were a jumbled mess, hardly conceivable for Kxolo who at least had half a mind left in the midst of heightened lust. He was drawn between sleeping, fucking, and small moments where he had enough sense to care for his omega. The days blurred together.

The sweet essence of his mate was quick to intoxicate him into a one track mind focus. The experience reminded him of the days he spent as a youth drinking the strong liquor with his friends for the first time and waking up in the morning with a spotty memory. This, however, left him bone-tired yet still yearning for more.

Neteyam was implacable, waking up every couple of hours with wandering hands and whining pleas. Naturally he was more than happy to help his needy little mate, but by day three he was starting to feel the physical toll it had on his body. The two would collapse upon the disastrous jumble of fabric that used to be a nest and Kxolo waned in the afterburn of overworked muscles.

Regardless, a word of complaint never left the alpha’s lips. One look at the sleeping boy curled up against his side and the Olo’eyktan knew his exhaustion was nothing in the light of his poor omega’s fatigue. Kxolo vowed to endlessly tire himself out pleasing his omega if it meant keeping Neteyam curled by his side forever. He, however, did worry for Neteyam as the days flew by. It took considerable persuasion to get any sort of food and water in the stubborn omega’s system. Some days required a creative bargain to placate him, promises of filling his tight hole in exchange for finishing the water and fruit prepared for him.

When those bargains still resulted in a pouting omega that constantly tried to get a hand under Kxolo’s loincloth, the Olo’eyktan would change his deal to a well spanked ass as reward for not taking all of the food like a good boy. One way or another, Neteyam always ended up begrudgingly eating his food as fast as possible.

Truth be told, Kxolo was oftentimes surprised that he was able to put a stern foot down in these situations. He had never experienced such an insatiable lust in his life before. Even his periodic ruts gave him desires that seemed easier to quench. Naturally he figured it would do with their destined bond, making him wonder what would happen the next time his own rut would come around. He knew if it was the same level of temptation to put health and wellness aside in favor of sexual gratification, he was in for a long ride.

The one time they were able to bathe had required Kxolo sneaking Neteyam out to the lake while the omega was fast asleep. It was only when the first rush of water brushed Neteyam’s skin that he awoke with a spew of whines. The entire experience was almost laughable as the omega alternated between pouting angrily and trying to kiss along the Olo’eyktan’s body. He had to admit, there were times that the boy’s bratty attitude was endearing. The excursion, however, did not end as anticipated, the smaller male somehow managing to trip Kxolo and straddle his lap.

“You really like to push your luck, Ma Neteyam.” Kxolo ground out, but it was more of an amused chuckle than a warning. Neteyam didn’t miss a beat, reaching down to stroke his mate’s twitching member.

“You said this belongs to me, no?” Neteyam’s voice came out surprisingly stronger than Kxolo expected after all of the screaming the boy had been producing.

“I did say that.”

“Then let me have it.” Neteyam insisted, already lining the head up to his entrance.

For the first time, Kxolo was momentarily rendered speechless. Concerns for hygiene evaporated as he couldn’t resist watching Neteyam ride him, large hands guiding the boy through it, slowly teaching him the best way to take him. That spit fire attitude along with the tight velvet walls of Neteyam’s hole had him throbbing and ready to burst in record time.

Kxolo couldn’t help himself from constantly checking the treeline for passerbys. The floral scent wafting from his mate had him on high alert for other individuals creeping in through the entirety of Neteyam’s presentation. Fucking up into him at the edge of the lake, Kxolo worried that an unlucky stumbling male wouldn’t just get a few hisses but rather the full wrath of a possessive alpha on edge. It’s hard to say whether or not his small omega would be able to save a stranger from such a situation.

They left the lake almost as dirty as they came, but Kxolo couldn’t find it in himself to care. The omega would be lucky to make it home before finding his hole dripping with a new round of cum.

Kxolo’s most complexing and yet entertaining discovery was the use of Neteyam’s second language. It came in the heat of the moment, Kxolo’s lips wrapped around his small cock as the boy cried and whined, his small wrists caught in one of the Olo’eyktan’s hands to keep him from reaching for tsaheylu. At first, he had beamed around the shaft, satisfied that his omega was already babbling literal gibberish. However, when a particular word had rained from the boy’s lips over and over, the older male’s ears twitched to try and make sense of the sound.

The frequency increased until half the words Neteyam would scream during heightened cries spread into wider vowels; it was impossible for it to be Na’vi. He often forgot there was another dialectic swimming in the omega’s brain. The alpha wondered if it ever felt strange to speak exclusively Na’vi within this clan.

Kxolo tried to find the meaning of these passing words, but Neteyam was either too far gone or too stubborn to give any translations. He promised himself to get it out of the boy someday, perhaps some edging would make him more agreeable. The alpha tucked away the idea for later. His main concerns for the week were satiating Neteyam and keeping the boy from forming tsaheylu while he slept.

It was borderline impressive how persistent and clever Neteyam had been in trying to form their bond. If there was one thing Kxolo had learned about the omega it was that Neteyam had a knack for finding an angle and exploiting it to get the desired results. Or at least, he never stopped trying. After the third time of waking up to Neteyam messing with his Kuru, seconds away from creating a bond, Kxolo had decided it was time to take precautionary measures.

The Olo’eyktan’s hand ached from the countless hours of sleep where he held the boy’s small wrists together tightly. He had been tempted to use a smooth rope but the moment the soft twine was revealed Neteyam was blabbering promises of being good. All it took was a few tears from those shining eyes for Kxolo to decide he could handle holding his wrists for a few more days.

On the fifth morning Kxolo awoke on his own volition and not to the feel of small hands struggling to get out. Wrist still clamped in the Olo’eyktan’s grip, Neteyam was sprawled out beside him, body twisted in a fashion that made the alpha cringe. It was a wonder how the boy managed to contort himself into the strangest positions during his slumber. Hesitantly, he let the boy’s wrists go. They dropped like dead weight.

Neteyam looked dead to the world, tailed curled around his own thigh as soft breaths blew from his pouty lips. Kxolo was content to watch the boy for a while longer, trying to analyze whether or not his presentation had fully passed. There was a new tang to the boy’s essence, but it was misted over by his own overwhelming scent mixed in. A proud smile curled at the edges of his lips.

As it should be Kxolo mentally affirmed.

He traced one fingertip gently along the boy’s vertebrae. Neteyam’s tail lashed out, tickling at the alpha’s nose. Tickling touches laced the omega’s back and sides, slowly coercing him to awaken from slumber. Kxolo was patient, murmuring his name softly, watching the boy’s ears twitch as the only form of acknowledgment. It was a stark contrast to the marathon of pounding him into oblivion. There was still a tinge of desire lacing his lower stomach, but the Olo’eyktan held it at bay.

Beneath the overwhelming perfume of their mixed scents, Kxolo could just barely make out the essence of calm washing over the omega. He was content. Exhausted, but content.

“Ma Neteyam.” He whispered, breath catching the wispy hair at the base of Neteyam’s neck. His tail swatted against the ground, giving away his feigned sleeping. “We can’t stay here forever, my love.”

“Why not?” Neteyam spoke, lips barely parting to create anything close to tangible words.

Kxolo grinned, finally pulling the omega backwards to spoon him from behind. His own tail naturally twisted around the omega’s ankle, tracing soft patterns on the skin there. It was a tempting fantasy, staying here while the rest of Pandora continued on to figure out its own problems.

“I suppose I could keep you here. Keep my precious little omega locked away in my hut, ready and willing to take me whenever I desire.” Neteyam’s huffed laugh coalesced with the alpha’s playful growl, sharp teeth nipping at the back of his neck.

“And let you go out and have all the fun? What if you are my prisoner for a change?”

Kxolo’s eyes twinkled with delight. Instinctively, his arms tightened around the male’s middle.

“Seems only fair at this point.” Neteyam insisted. Their legs tangled together lazily, the remnants of cum sticky along their skin. Face pressed against the nape of his neck, Kxolo’s nostrils flared as he breathed in his scent as if it was the only breathable oxygen left on Pandora.

He turned the omega to face him before surrendering his own wrists to the boy.

“Then take me now, omega.” Kxolo was certain there was nothing more beautiful than the wide toothy grin that Neteyam sent him in return. Small giggles threatened to escape the younger male’s throat, but he kept it at bay. The wrists were snatched by smaller hands that struggled to cinch around them completely. Neteyam playfully yanked on them, causing a deep chuckle to rumble from the alpha.

“You may find, however, that I don’t cause as much trouble as you, little one.” Kxolo’s smirk never dropped even as he lifted his arms to protect himself from Neteyam’s weak hits. Laughter bubbled between the two, legs intertwining and wrestling for the upperhand.

Despite his aching muscles, the Olo’eyktan’s strength still greatly outmatched that of his bone tired omega. He caught the small boy’s wrists, pinning them against the floor before straddling that slim waist and crashing his lips down feverishly on Neteyam’s.

All remnants of struggle melted into preening arched movements from Neteyam. Their tongues danced in perfect rhythm as the alpha kissed the daylights out of him. Kxolo bit at the bottom lip when he could smell the familiar scent of slick leaking down his omega’s leg. When they finally broke apart, Neteyam’s eyes were dilated and breath heavy.

“Alpha-”

“You need to heal, Neteyam. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Neteyam huffed in protest but apparently was too tired to fight back. It only took a few steps on shaky legs for Neteyam to almost fall out of the tree, therefore landing himself in Kxolo’s arms for the rest of the trek to the lake. Although his inner alpha slightly whined at having to wash away the visual claim, Kxolo meticulously scrubbed at the boy’s skin till all remnants of white were gone. Luckily, he was satisfied to find that their mixed perfume had remained evermore obvious.

The simple act of putting on clothes again felt foreign after days of primarily nudity. The weight of his carefully carved knife sheathed in its holster held a more present weight than he could recall. The bright side was that with some proper persuasion, the Olo’eyktan managed to convince Neteyam to adorn some traditional color of his clan. The sight made him swell in pride, grin only widening even more when the boy wordlessly added the waist beads.

“She is expected to return soon. Surely that will take some of the edge off.” Leynyey assured the young Na’vi girl. Vamai already knew first hand that Pulo was a tough trainer. She could easily imagine him running the poor girl through the reps endlessly, especially with the absence of his own mate on a foraging trip. Vamai herself was growing tired of Pulo’s constant presence.

Usually Neteyam’s petty dislike of Pulo was enough to grant Vamai and the Sully boy some proper alone time. However, it had been days since word of Neteyam’s presentation had surfaced and without Neteyam or Epok’s company, the task of keeping the other alpha entertained had somehow fallen to her. To say Vamai was growing restless would be an understatement.

Leynyey continued to carefully weave feathers into the younger Na’vi female’s hair as Vamai absent mindedly prepared the poison arrows carefully. Vamai had always felt a bit outside of the inner circle, especially when it came to her own gender, but listening to their endless chatter was a welcomed distraction from worrying about Neteyam. Five days was not a ridiculous or unusual amount of time for presentations to last. Some newly presented omegas were cooped up in their huts for an entire week. Vamai herself regretted the length of her own.

Cold but hot. Burning and empty. Shivering across the soft surface of a secluded hut, one that was not meant for her. It was meant for them. Dark webs of these memories cloud her mental presence without permission.

She shook her head, mentally flinging all residue of that dark time from her brain. Dwelling on the past would get her nowhere. She had learned. She had evolved. Nothing beyond that was important.

To her dismay, however, Vamai had found that her inner omega took comfort in shifting her thoughts towards the other Sully son. The same male that had given her the best orgasm of her life on a whim. The same who wouldn’t stop trying to contact her through the weird necklace. Although Neteyam's absence was the perfect time to adorn the piece without a hint of suspicion, she had held off. It was kept safely tucked away in her baskets, hoping to muddle any unexpected sounds while her parents were home. She hadn’t blatantly been ignoring the male, but the omega oftentimes let his calls drift off until he had given up.

On her weaker nights, she had answered. Only with short words and snide comments, but enough to keep Lo’ak chatting away. It was difficult to say whether he was making up for her own short answers or if he was simply that talkative. He spoke of his family and duties mostly. He had learned within the first day that any mention of what happened at the waterfall would result in immediate disconnection. Memories of that day still added to the regular program of Lo’ak lacing her dreams, but explicitly talking about it would be too much.

Occasionally he would ask about Neteyam, wondering how he was holding up. A tinge of panic would race through her heart at the mere mention of the omega. She didn’t require a specific request from the Olo’eyktan to know that sharing the news of Neteyam’s presentation with his family would not be appreciated. Luckily, her clipped and vague response was nothing out of the ordinary for these conversations.

Part of her expected him to give up, finding these interactions unsatisfactory. Still, he continued to persevere. Vamai lamented that her nature sent a wave of relief when his smirky voice echoed through her room every night. She fought the urge to answer immediately. A few nights she was stubborn enough to not answer at all, but those bursts of strengthened resolve were fleeting. Inevitably, her hand would on its own accord reach into the basket and grab the strange sky people tech with practiced familiarity.

“Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to see Olo’eyktan till the end of the week.”

Vamai’s head snapped up, focus finally coming back to the present moment. Sure enough, off in the distance Neteyam could be spotted shyly walking next to their Olo’eyktan. Relief flooded her system, legs carrying her towards the other omega without conscious thought. Every other clan member was ignored and dodged as she bounded towards her best friend.

Neteyam nearly toppled over when Vamai sprung at him, jumping up to reach her arms around the taller omega. Thankfully, Kxolo was there stabilizing his mate within a second. She veered back slightly, but only to ensure that the boy’s already shaking legs wouldn’t collapse beneath him.

“Oh my Eywa! Never leave me with these skxawngs again!” Her grip was merciless, causing Kxolo to shift slightly closer, but Neteyam only laughed at her antics. Still, Vamai could feel the heavy gaze of an anxious alpha holding back the urge to sweep his mate away again. She squeezed him that much tighter, until the distinct smell of Kxolo bombarded her senses.

She pulled back and scrunched her nose.

“Don’t you think you overdid it a little?” Vamai sneered at her Olo’eyktan. While Neteyam’s ears twitched and cheeks tinted pink, Kxolo only grinned down at the small female proudly with crossed arms. “I mean my Eywa, putting a baby inside of him would’ve been a lesser effect.”

“Ok that’s enough.” Neteyam groaned, fighting the urge to cover his reddening complexion.

“Well I thought you would want to spend some time with my mate, but I’d be happy to take him off your hands if it bothers you so much.” Kxolo was already snaking both arms around the boy’s waist and pulling him back into his hard chest. He glowed with the arrogance and pride of a mated alpha. Vamai supposed she couldn’t expect anything less from an alpha still experiencing the lingering effects of omega presentation. She shot forward, snatching Neteyam away roughly. There was no telling how long Kxolo would keep him if given the chance and Vamai was not interested in finding out.

“Don’t be so selfish.” Her bared teeth glimmered in the sunlight. Although reluctant, Kxolo’s grip loosened before finally parting from his mate. A few words of salutations were whispered affectionately followed by a prolonged kiss, that was sure to have more tongue than necessary, before the Olo’eyktan strode off to join the hunting party.

Vamai wasted no time in corralling the other omega away from the clan members. They naturally fell into stride along the familiar path that led towards the small river. Teasing comments easily left her lips, amused by the faint glow of embarrassment that Neteyam’s face still held. It was endearing and amusing to see how shy the boy insisted on being.

However, when the conversation steered away from his presentation and the explicit acts that he and the Olo’eyktan had performed, Neteyam was surprised to find that Vamai didn’t immediately reel it back. She indulged his curiosity about the last few days, complaining about Pulo’s annoying badgering mixed with the boring conversations held by the other clan women. As always, Vamai spoke with a vibrancy and energy that left Neteyam exhausted, but he could sense a missing passion in each of her short stories.

They lounged along the river, this time Neteyam joined her in sprawling out over the shallow waters rushing along the colorful rocks. Gentle breezes and trickling water down her back sweetly cooled Vamai’s skin. They lay there for a while, staring up at the canopy of trees creating intricate shadows over the landscape. It was comfortable, even relaxing. However, Vamai could not stop herself from peeking over at the boy from the corner of her eyes periodically.

Neteyam preened under the golden sunlight with closed eyes and an evenly rising and falling chest that made her question whether or not he was asleep. Possessive marks and bites littered his skin. That was expected, but her reaction wasn’t.

Vamai’s chest tightened as her golden eyes danced over the marks left in a seemingly intimate fashion. Although her first habit was to imagine these marks as possessive branding left in an aggressive heat driven fashion, her mind couldn’t help but conjure sweet images of kind words whispered between those visual reminders of mating. And with Neteyam breathing in the sunlight with the satisfaction and peace of an omega who desired nothing more in the world, it was impossible to spin it any other way.

“What are you looking for?” His eyes didn’t open, but she averted her own.

“Nothing.”

He finally peeked through narrowed slits, studying his friend with a diligence that made her look away. Vamai clumsily grappled for a handful of colorful rocks in the rivers and began to roll them absent mindedly against her palm.

“We didn’t bond.”

She could hear the swish of water, indicating Neteyam sitting up and scooting closer.

“That’s good, right? Isn’t that what you were worried about?”

“Yeah…it’s good.”

The awkward tension filling the space flipped her stomach into constant summersaults. The rocks dug into the soft flesh of her palms. Electricity buzzed at her nerves, a constant temptation to run off into the treeline. She prayed to Eywa that Neteyam could not sense her sudden apprehension. However, those sparks singed her from the inside until it felt that the only release would be to spit out the words lodged in her throat.

“You are ok, though, right?” Vamai’ neck strained at the sudden snap turn. Neteyam blinked back at her, bewildered. “You can tell me honestly.”

Neteyam stilled under her focused attention, eyes darting cautiously along her expression.

“I actually feel a lot better.”

“Than during your presentation, yeah of course-”

“No, better than before it.”

Vamai’s tail curled in the air, ears twitching anxiously. Neteyam shifted slightly and rubbed at the back of his neck with a sigh but to her surprise, he didn’t back down from the statement.

“It’s hard to explain but…” Vamai jerked slightly when a sudden burst of energy had Neteyam shuffling to his knees and facing her properly. “Before it just felt like that voice at the back of my head was a constant annoyance, like some force of nature that worked against my own free will. It’s disorienting and confusing and always bashing in my skull, or at least it was.”

She knew that feeling all too well. Omega instincts were nothing to underestimate, something she had come to accept.

“And now, it’s less restless. Like it’s been satiated. I can understand the origin of thoughts and desires but they are easier to pick through, easier to comprehend. I suppose that’s what fully presenting is, getting rid of the fight between yourself and your nature. You know what I mean?” He nudged her softly with an eased smile.

Vamai’s own lips felt physically pained to send him one in return.

“Yeah, right.”

Her thoughts turned clumsily with an unleashed vitality. Cold chills raced along her vertebrae as she watched him beam. She wondered if it was wrong to agree with him, to let him think that these feelings were simply effects of omega presentation. It was slightly unnerving to watch him speak of the event with such fondness and relief. Surely, the sexual pleasure and release was not to be underestimated but it was the way he rambled on about alignment with his nature that left a heavy weight on her chest.

The longer he babbled happily about it, the heavier it became. The tangible strain of smiling and nodding along increased tenfold. His words tangled with her own racing thoughts that constantly worked to decipher the situation. They bounced against the inner walls of her skull until it was throbbing, until it felt as if it was on the brink of shattering.

“Vamai.” Reality snapped back into place. “I’m boring you.” Neteyam half heartedly huffed a laugh, but there was no mistaking the concern swimming along his features.

“Of course not.” It didn’t ring true in her own ears and judging by Neteyam’s grimace, there was little hope that he believed her either. Her fingers twisted through the colorful frayed strings of her loincloth, expelling the smallest amount of the zapping electricity. The gaze of sunlight upon her azure skin suddenly felt penetrating, eating away at her until a bead of sweat trickled from her forehead down the slope of her soft cheek. So much for subtly.

“I know that your presentation was different.”

Different.

Curled up alone in a miserable ball of grief and pain, tortured by her own nature. Cursing the name of Eywa for five days, while searching for relief from the aching fire that consumed everything in its wake. The cold slab of the cave floor a hollow and empty contrast to the embrace that she had grown accustomed to. The arms that were meant to be holding her dearly, soothing away every morsel of pain and desire.

Different is one way to describe it.

If only he knew.

“Maybe I should be a little more sensitive-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nete.” She sprung to her feet, focusing on shaking the remains of water away from her thighs instead of the threatening wall of tears behind glazed eyes. “I’m not a baby. I can handle getting the inside scoop. In fact, I encourage it.”

As if caught in a steel trap, her eyes were forced to calmly peer down at the boy. His own tail was around his hip. She couldn’t tell if it was a sign of apprehension or rather pity, but either option caused her stomach to flip.

“I know…It’s just you don’t really talk about it that much.”

She knew this story. Knew how it was going to play out. The looks of sympathy, the casually thrown promises of better days. All just shields to the uncomfortable pity that other Na’vi don’t know what to do with. Simply masks that were worn to show support and comfort, while secretly thanking the Great Mother that their misfortune was not as drastic. If only they knew how transparent their feelings truly were.

Followed by the initial cheer of relief, each familiar face had been painted with those masks upon the morning of her return. Family and friends had constantly reached out, eager to put a hand of consolation on her shoulder or share personal remedies and advice. Kxolo himself had visited almost every day after the occurrence, feverishly promising assistance, or revenge depending on his mood.

Time had passed. The well-meaning, yet nagging, soothing had slowed until finally ceasing. Still, those looks continued. Her story lived on in the whispered conversations racketing along the clan in her absence, voices dripped in a somber tone.

Neteyam was immune to this, blissfully unaware and therefore holding the capacity to treat her like every other Na’vi.

Her best friend for a reason.

Vamai’s saving grace came in the form of a panting beta, rushing through the greenery with dilated pupils and a heavy chest. Dread fell over the pair. His presence penetrated the atmosphere brashly, swarming Vamai’s initial feelings of relief into a bundle of anxiety at his appearance. She recognized him as Lanil, one of the newer betas joining the hunting party after finally passing his Iknimaya.

Twin tails perked in alert, watching the male with emploring eyes.

“The hunting party returned but Olo’eyktan-”

Neteyam was gone, racing through the trees with frantic urgency before the male could finish.

The healer’s tent was bursting at the seams with Na’vi. The crowd suffocated the outer walls, only shooed away by the young healers in training. A tunnel was forced through the crowd only to allow healers rushing in and out of the hut, carrying baskets of plants and ointments. It was the blood staining their hands, however, that had bile threatening to crawl up Neteyam’s throat.

The omega didn’t have to push through the crowd, to his horror they parted for him till he had breached the entrance. Out of respect as Olo’eyktan’s mate or out of sympathy, he couldn’t tell. Although he had rushed to the tent with a speed that had his joints aching, peeking through the gap in the tent, Neteyam found his feet planted to the muddy soil.

The sliver of sunlight illuminating the musky tent only revealed a peak of blue skin, nothing to indicate his mate’s wellbeing. Kxolo’s natural essence was woven too tightly with those of strangers and gushing blood. Who’s blood though? It was a smell that Neteyam had grown well accustomed to. However, back home it was commonly tinged with the perfume of gunpowder and a metallic undertone. It had always twisted his stomach into knots, urging him to check for injuries among his father and mother. Now, however, it rendered him stagnant.

He swore that Eywa herself had strung an entanglement of roots and vines as a binding for his feet to the forest floor.

“Neteyam, you can come in.” Tsahik poked her head through the sliver of an opening coaxing him inside with a rushed wave of her palm. He followed reluctantly, but she was across the length of the hut too fast for him to keep up.

Thick permeated air of smoke and herbal clouds weighed heavy in his lungs. Nai’vi warriors were sprawled across the expanse of the hut. Groans of pain emitted from younger warriors as wounds were patched and sewn while the elder stubbornly suffered in silence. Shriveled into himself, Neteyam trudged along, carefully directed himself around the thrashing tails and rushing healers.

The scream that broke loose was toe curling. It cut through the atmosphere with a merciless slice, causing a squeak to fall from his lips as the omega shuffled and tripped on his own feet.

It was then that familiar hands caught him from behind, slowly lowering him to sit.

A small sound echoed in his throat at the sight of his mate very much alive and not the male screaming beyond the curtain. With a quivered lip and the inability to form words that made sense in the situation, Neteyam geared his energy towards looking over the alpha for serious injuries. Patches of purple and dark blue littered his skin, broken up by small cuts, but they were minor. The only serious injury was the deep wound under his back shoulder blade that a small Na’vi girl worked on patching diligently.

“You’re ok.”

Kxolo simply grunted in response, eyes barely flashing to meet Neteyam’s for a moment. He sat motionless, still as the stone that Neteyam and his siblings used to jump off of and into the river. Although the girl rubbed a generous amount of ointment along the open wound, he never flinched.

“Who let you in here?” The gruff rumble of his voice cut brashly. The deep ember of calming affection had dissipated from his irises, leaving only a vacant stare in its place. Kxolo was already moving to shuffle the omega out of the tent, protests erupting from his healer. “I’m fine. Go home, Neteyam.”

“B-but-”

A shrilling scream whipped at the wind once more, cascading a shiver down Neteyam’s spine. Kxolo didn’t flinch, showed no visual signs of recognition but every muscle tensed and locked into place, the veins of his hands protruding from his tightening grip. A small beta sprinted from behind the curtain, blood scattered along her forearms and hands that held an empty basket firmly. Eyes followed her form till it had been swallowed by the tent’s closing flap.

“Olo’eyktan…I’m finished.” The small beta behind him quietly spoke, eyes meeting with Neteyam’s for a moment. He searched her expression for answers, foolishly hoping to find an account of today’s events and how it had led to such bloodshed. An explanation as to where the kind glow in his mate’s eyes had gone.

“Go home.” Kxolo’s voice came out as a distant whisper this time, body curling forward towards the mysterious curtain that hid a gory scene. Just watching his looming frame edge closer to the fabric made Neteyam’s knees shake. Images of wounds and shrapnel embedded in skin invaded his mind. Unwanted visuals that haunted Neteyam’s mind as memories, ones never meant to have been obtained.

Kxolo on the other hand took long strides laced with firm determination across the space. Although his head was not held as high as usual, the Olo’eyktan never looked down. Dark orbs staring straight ahead, ready to face whatever horrors awaited him behind that thin wall of protection.

A sudden burning to follow emerged. Neteyam wanted to warn him, to reel him back from scenes that can never be unseen. Memories that linger like smoke in the air, deeply seated in your lungs until there is no more room for fresh air. Having Toruk Makto, the mighty warrior and defeater of Sky People, for a father is a matter of fate. It can’t be escaped because it was strung into his destiny before Neteyam’s first breath. Eywa choses where we weave into the fabric of other’s lives. Neteyam couldn’t avoid seeing these griefs, but he could protect Kxolo.

The wailing grew intensely, the weight of heavy dread in the air sinking down onto everyone within earshot.

Neteyam’s hand just barely reached to circle around one of Kxolo’s wrists gently before his broad frame split the soft fabric. Less than two steps, however, and Neteyam realized he wouldn’t have to tug the male back after all.

“You are not needed here.” Tsahik braced an arm across his chest, backing him up until fully out of the secluded space. Kxolo planted his feet, but didn’t dare push back in resistance. Curious gazes fell upon the throuple.

“He is my student, I’m helping.”

“And now he lies among my wounded, under my care. You will only get in the way. Go home and rest.”

“Rest.” Kxolo scoffed, nose scrunching up to reveal the tips of his canines. Tsahik was neither bothered nor dettered by the attitude. The undivided attention from those around made Neteyam squirm and tighten his hold on the alpha’s wrist, but he didn’t allow himself to snuggle close for comfort as he desired. Not when he was caught in the midst of a showdown between the clan’s Tsahik and Olo’eyktan. Unspoken murmurs morphed into a frozen tension locking everyone in place, the only sound continuing being that of the injured Na’vi behind the curtain.

Were it not for his concern for Kxolo, Neteyam would’ve shrunk away, convinced that this was business between the clan’s leaders and not for him. He had been shooed out of enough conversations between his grandmother and father to know his place by now.

“Neteyam, take him home please.”

All eyes landed on him. He went to protest, to explain that this was not his place to speak out, but that sentiment didn’t seem to hold true anymore. He did have a role to play in this scene now. He was the Olo’eyktan’s mate, or at least in the eyes of the people he was. Tsahik’s pointed eyes softened upon falling on Neteyam. The slightest jerk of her head and whip of her tail finally gave the omega the encouragement needed to start tugging again.

Another mewl rang through the air.

“Get some rest.” She soothed, placing a hand on the alpha’s shoulder. The muscles of his back tightened visibly. “I will keep you updated on any progress.”

“Kxolo.�� He pleaded.

Void of any reaction, the Olo’eyktan’s feet finally began to trudge backwards. Tsahik didn’t wait around to see her orders followed, slipping back past the curtain. The crowd parted for them outside the tent, some curious gazes looking for signs of serious injuries on their Olo’eyktan. Neteyam dared to peek back at the male only to find a stoic expression sunk into place. Eyes dead straight forward, Kxolo maintained a steady pace behind him.

Halfway home Neteyam finally realized that he was holding dead weight in his grip, an unnecessary urging to get his mate home, but he dared not drop it. His smaller fingers held tighter, cherishing their one point of contact. His hindbrain weeped and begged him to snuggle close, to encircle the male in his arms till that shine and affectionate smile would return. Still, all he could bring himself to focus on was making it back to their hut. Back to the place where answers could be received.

That is, if he wanted them.

If he wanted to know what had happened on such a short hunt to reduce his alpha into a shell of what he was that morning. The rays of a proud beaming alpha had dissipated into darkness. Netyam felt his own giddy feelings wash away with every glance he sent back at the stoic man.

Kxolo remained silent as he sat on the woven floor of their home. Although his back was straight as a rod, showing forth the confidence and surety of a true leader, Neteyam couldn’t help but see an invisible deflation. Only the slow occasional blinks over those sunken eyes showed Kxolo was awake.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

No explanation, no words or traces of comfort.

Neteyam sunk down onto his knees behind him, hands hesitantly placing themselves along those broad shoulders. Blood seeped through the thick bandage upon his left shoulder blade. Neteyam’s fingertips barely grazed the leathery texture of the leaf bandage. Pushing away the tangled braids, the omega fitted his face against the nape of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent.

It was tainted with riddle emotions. Dark edges clouding over the affectionate acceptance of his touch. Neteyam’s nose crinkled before softly resting his chin upon Kxolo’s shoulder. His expression remained stoic.

“What happened?”

No matter how long the silence stretched, Neteyam forced himself to sit into it. His fingers twitched along the smooth skin of his mate’s upper biceps, but he waited patiently for an answer. Solutions were hard to come by without knowing the problem. However, watching the grimace slink across the Olo’eyktan’s face, he had a fair idea of what emotion plagued him.

“A miscalculation.”

His tail lay lifeless across the woven floor. Neteyam’s own followed suit subconsciously. Somehow he managed to piece together an attitude of patience even as questions bombarded and swirled around his every thought. That frazzled energy was concentrated and expressed through simple touches along Kxolo’s shoulders and back. So fragile and light it could’ve been mistaken as a ghostly breeze. He didn’t know if it made any difference for his mate of stone as he drew idle circles along the warm skin, but it made his own heart beat slow down into a peaceful rhythm.

These actions felt familiar, almost practiced, although more times than not it was his alpha creating imaginary drawings along his form instead of the other way around. Nevertheless, his hindbrain purred and settled with every stroke, relaxing into the heat of his skin.

“The angtsik were meant to be at the drinking hole this time of day. The stampede was there and gone within an instant. Got most of the others relatively out of the way. Sian was less lucky.” He spoke as if in a trance, a flash of memory skating along his eyes. Still, he never turned; never let his rigid posture loosen.

Unfortunately it was a countenance that Neteyam not only recognized but knew first hand from himself. The weight of responsibility constantly pressed against his chest. Outcomes and solutions would never erase the horror of knowing that the origin of problems lied with you. That you could’ve stopped a misfortune but now the opportunity was lost.

“It’s not your fault.” Words that had been repeated to him over and over by his sister and grandmother, yet they could never hold the power necessary.

There were no magic phrases or string of poetic lines that could seep into one’s being until it had finally been accepted as truth. Loved ones had tried, reaching out for heart to heart conversations while he sat along the small river; his hideout. He knew then that nothing could be said to erase the blackened mark on his record with every mistake. Some days words of comfort brought forth a tinge of annoyance, as if no one could understand that the damage had been done. Every mistake saddled him with weighted guilt and reminders of his shortcomings.

Now, sitting here on the other side of the glass, Neteyam could finally understand the helplessness that must’ve racked his own family. They were the wrong words, but what more could he say?

“I’m Olo’eyktan. That hunting party was under my care. The People are under my care. My responsibility. My duty.” The tuff of Kxolo’s tail shortly whipped against the floor with a soft puff. The usually perked and attentive ears had nestled back against his skull, hidden partly by his dark hair.

Hair that had lost its shine and neat appearance, decorated braids had wrapped and tangled together into clustered knots. Some had nestled far out of place to the point where Neteyam’s eyes strained to find their origin at the male’s scalp. He wondered what sort of maneuver his mate had performed to put them in such a state. Images of scrambling Na’vi being pulled from the floor by the Olo’eyktan’s strong arms, seconds away from being crushed by the leather skin covered heavy feet flashed to the front of his mind’s eye. Another shot of panic bolted through him at the new onslaught of disturbing images. Although already knowing his state of injury, Neteyam couldn’t help but flash desperate glances along the male’s form in search of further overlooked ailments.

Hysteria was quickly squeezing his lungs together in a tight grip. His calming touches had stopped and Neteyam struggled to get a grip on himself. Now was not the time to panic. His mate was looking forward with a countenance of haunted death and he had not a single word of solace to pull him back. The omega needed an outlet, something that would feel like helping no matter how small the impact.

“Your hair is tangled.” Neteyam whispered in a jumble. He spotted the slightest of nods from the alpha. Another steadying breath filled his lungs, urging his body back into control. The racing of heated blood began to lose speed. “Let me fix it.”

However, it came out as a declaration rather than a seeking of approval. Neteyam crawled along the disastrous mess of their hut and dug through various baskets that had been toppled over in the heat of lust. Eventually he gathered the necessary tools; moisturizing hair oil and a bone toothed comb.

Settling himself back behind Kxolo’s towering frame, Neteyam took the first braid between his fingers. Dark silky hair reflected the shimmer of golden sunlight sneaking through the mouth of their hut. Although stubborn at certain points, the dark locks slowly began to unwind into fallen waves. Neteyam lathered his fingertips in the slick oil and diligently smoothed it through his mate’s hair periodically. Braid by braid, the omega found himself settling into the task.

To his delight, he was not the only one.

Although minimal at first, Kxolo began to preen back against the touch. Rigid shoulders fell away into a relaxed posture. There was gradually a shift in the tension that originally lay between them. The heavy aroma of troubled emotion laced pheromones slowly slipped into something lighter. The thick air of tension and looming images of bloodied bodies had begun to fade away.

Neteyam’s movements grew in confidence, falling into a natural rhythm that could’ve been mistaken as overdone routine. An assortment of feathers and beads pooled around Neteyam’s knees, quickly growing into a small pile with every untangling of a braid.

“Neteyam,” The omega perked up at the splitting of silence. “Tell me something.”

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

Neteyam’s diligence faltered, daring to sneak a peek at the male’s expression.

“I doubt it’d be useful to hear my babbling stories-”

“I like your stories.”

And for the first time since coming across his panic stricken mate, Kxolo peered back at him. Their eyes locked, revealing crystal clear vulnerability underneath that Olo’eyktan facade. A softness that was neither shameful nor hidden from Neteyam’s gaze. The strength and trust required to let oneself be seen as you truly are.

Kxolo was a dominant alpha full of pride and courage. Every decision down to the last of his footsteps was laced with confidence and resolve. He stood by those choices and braced himself for whatever consequences followed. His leadership was humble and focused on those around him, taking on any burden he deemed fit for the good of the People.

Neteyam would be lying if he claimed to not find his character admirable.

However, he had never been more impressed than upon seeing Kxolo sink before him, opening himself up completely before the omega.

If there was ever a chance to exploit his captor’s weakness and plot an escape, it was now.

That thought, however, couldn’t break through the overwhelming warmth that seeped like liquid gold into Neteyam’s chest.

“I remember the first time I saw you.” The confession tumbled out on autopilot, without a warning thought. Kxolo’s ears perked upwards in tandem with a raised hairless eyebrow. It seemed too late to take the words back now that the Olo’eyktan’s attention had been captured. So Neteyam found refuge instead through concentrating on untangling braids and using the thick hair to curtain his rising blush.

“A long time ago when you first visited our clan as Olo’eyktan.” He continued, as if the setting would be enough to satisfy his curious mate. Naturally, a spark of amusement was evident in the male’s expression so he continued.

Neteyam had told himself that he would never tell this story. Not to his family, not to his friends, and especially not to the male himself. So why did the it flow effortlessly from his lips?

“I remember.”

Neteyam could feel his heart in his throat, strangling him from getting out a reasonable reply. The silky strands twirled around his fingers as he sat there motionless.

“No I don’t mean a few months ago-”

“I know. Almost a year ago now since you first spied on me from the trees above.”

Heat rose at a rushing pace to spread across his cheek and neck. Although Kxolo remained facing forwards, Neteyam couldn’t help but hide his heated expression between the Olo’eyktan’s shoulder blades. It felt foolish to be mortified being caught spying on his mate such a long time ago after they have now been so intimate with one another, but regardless, the omega felt as if he could curl up into a ball and die.

“Y-you saw?” Although moments before the alpha’s eyes had been tormented with images of murky death, Neteyam could imagine that signature smirk breaking his composure. Behind his back, the omega was given a moment to breathe, safe from the attentive eyes that diligently followed him to and fro.

However, a part of him itched to take another peek. No matter how embarrassing, it would be a relief to see a glimmer of warmth return to his countenance after such traumatic events. Instead, Neteyam adjusted the leaf bandages in faux concentration.

“Rest assured it was not a lack of agility that gave you away, little one.” Although slightly strained, his timber had soothed back into something familiar for his little mate. Caught between conflicting emotions of embarrassment and relief, Neteyam’s small fingers fumbled with the next braid while trying to clear his thoughts. “Even back then your sweet scent knew how to draw me in.”

Neteyam was starting to regret bringing the subject up in the first place. Nothing could change the fact that his devious spying had been not so secret after all, but that knowledge could’ve been left in the dark, allowing the omega to sleep soundly at night. Allowing him to look the Olo’eyktan in the eyes without becoming bashful.

All this time, the one card Neteyam felt he held close to his chest had been exposed from the beginning.

Their official first meeting when they had been formally introduced, how hard Neteyam had worked to school his features into that of pleasant indifference. The first few weeks they had spent with Neteyam denying his attraction towards the older male with every breath. His insistence of hating Kxolo and yet the Olo’eyktan had known. He had known that from the beginning he had captured Neteyam’s attention. There was always an assurance of interest from the young omega.

“It was more coincidental than intentional actually…”

“Coincidentally following me from your little hideout spots.”

“N-no. By Eywa, you can’t go two seconds without letting your big head get in the way.” Neteyam huffed before tugging on one of the half undone braids. It seemed to jolt a sound of surprise and cut laughter from the alpha. As if to break him out of the dreary moment finally.

Neteyam only wished that the laughter was not at his own expense.

“You knew this whole time and yet you never…” He trailed off into a scoff, but the edges of Kxolo’s lips were already tugging upwards.

“I figured you would be a bit bashful about it.” As Neteyam’s blush deepened he hated to admit how correct his alpha’s perception of him was. “Besides, I enjoyed spotting such a cute little omega peeking down curiously from above. The most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.”

Gulping down harshly, Neteyam felt the memories from that day surge forward. The twisted bundle of nerves that had laced his stomach while following the mysterious alpha had almost been enough to make him trip and lose his cover several times. Growing up to be such a responsible adult, practically a third parent for his siblings, Neteyam knew better than to wander off after strangers, especially ones from other clans. So he had been confused by his own persistence in continuing this pointless pursuit. Several times when his father and other Olo’eyktan had stopped and chatted out of earshot, he had turned back with a disappointed huff, only then to reverse his movements at the first twinkling of movement from the pair.

It had been a tug of war Neteyam was unfamiliar playing with himself. Strong desires and attractions for the complimenting genders was normal, he had fallen prey to his own feelings before during the heat of training and random musing he caught of other alphas bathing in the hot springs near his home. However, he maintained a certain level of self respect in quickly turning away and pushing those feelings deep down in his gut. Following this broad shouldered male, however, had felt completely out of his control.

The scent of pine and rushing stream had infiltrated his focus, luring him forward without a second thought. Although their conversation was hard to depict, he clasped to every rumble of the male’s incoherent voice. It was a ripple that spread over his chest in a deep flush till tickling the tips of his ears.

That night Neteyam had barely made it home before his father, rushing to throw himself into the hammock and feign sleep at the first moment possible. Jake had roused his son gently, laying a tender kiss to the boy’s forehead to his surprise, before ushering Neteyam to join them for dinner. Lo’ak must’ve been bored without Neteyam’s presence because he made the older brother pray for it at dinner. Not a moment of peace seemed to be afforded between Lo’ak’s stories and constant teasing.

Every time he had dazed off to stare into the distance, traces of the male’s slim form caressing his mind, Lo’ak had been quick to jump in and demand the attention of the ‘mighty warrior.’ That night had ended with their parents breaking the two of them up, Neteyam managing to pin his alpha brother down for once. He could still remember the flare of anger and surprise that curled along the younger boy’s expression.

Shame and guilt had lingered longer than night after a stern talk from his father. Still, the focal point of his attention had always been centered on Kxolo. The nameless male had infused his dreams that night, waking him up in a heated sweat enough times to leave the boy drowsy and grumpy the next morning. The memory of that secret encounter had conjured a faux essence of the Olo’eyktan until sleep had finally claimed him once more.

It took weeks to push the experience to the back of his head. He knew better than to lust after a strange alpha, let alone allow the simple experience to interfere with his training and daily duties. At some point dreams had faded and Neteyam had caught a grip of himself. Regardless, he had vowed to never reveal what had occurred.

Now, however, Neteyam was left wondering if that was his biggest mistake of all.

Silence had pulled a taunt tension between them once more. Silky strands of dark hair curled around his fingers till releasing into gentle waves, but the omega could no longer focus on the task without being pulled in another direction. A certain spice had taken over the alpha’s natural perfume, bleeding into the tightening strain along his shoulders and neck. Kxolo propped up one knee, flexed forearm laying over it with a forced appearance of nonchalance.

There were many times that Neteyam had found Kxolo hard to read, difficult to break past the forced impression that the Olo’eyktan was so good at projecting to others. Time had passed since then. It would be impossible to pinpoint when exactly that projection had flitted to dust around Neteyam, but regardless it was gone and the omega felt completely insufficient at handling these unbridled emotions.

Was this how it had felt for Kxolo?

Had he too been letting the true essence of himself slip through, negligent to the promises he had made to himself?

“The impression of you stayed with me for weeks…maybe longer.” Neteyam barely allowed his voice to rise above a whisper, afraid it would crack and let his true weakened composure through.

“And what type of impression did you receive?” Neteyam jumped slightly when the hair slipped from his grasp and golden eyes were trained on him intently. “What did you think?”

Think about how such an ethereal glow from an alpha could exist, pulling him taunt towards his presence insistently? What that roasted amber essence would feel against his nose, tucked into the stranger’s neck safely? How someone could single handedly take a hold of his heart within just one interaction. How hollow his soul had rung, upon lying alone with only the memory to taunt him.

“I thought you were the most handsome male I had ever seen…and also the most intimidating.”

Coward.

Perhaps it wasn’t a lie, but it still would never hold a candle to the truth that remained lodged in his lungs. The charade was up, he had already exposed himself more than he had ever intended, what more would be this last shred of sincerity? The last card he held close to his chest?

Against all reason however, taking that plunge felt like free falling from a cliff, only a promise to blanket that clash that would await him at the bottom.

Neteyam’s blunt nails dug into his soft palms, thoughts swarming into inner turmoil, but Kxolo’s expression had much improved. A soft almost imperceivable chuckle escaped his throat, and his eyes softened into a fond look that Neteyam was ashamed to only know from experience of receiving it and never shooting one back.

“Intimidating, huh?” Kxolo hummed in feigned thought, lips quirking upwards slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Perhaps that could come in handy.”

“Not now, you skxawng!” The omega roughly pushed at his shoulders, although the male barely budged, mirth quickly taking over Kxolo’s expression to swallow the last weight of lingering guilt. “That was before I learned about your empty threats.”

“Careful there, little one. I can recall more than enough threats I’ve followed through on. But if you need a refresher…” Kxolo crept closer, larger frame quickly overshadowing Neteyam’s till he was trapped beneath him. The soft waves of Kxolo’s hair curtained around them, blocking out the last of penetrating light and allowing the Tanhi across the alpha’s body to glow in spotted trails along the plains of his smooth skin. Neteyam squeaked and struggled to get away, but even he knew it was only for show. The alpha was completely breathtaking, no longer an Olo’eyktan shining forth. Simply his lover.

His lover.

His love.

taglist: @kayjaydee17 @theunfortunateplace @4ashes-stuff @perfectprofessorloverapricot @creepytoes88 @young5643-blog

84 notes · View notes

honkytonk-hangman · 2 years

Text

Afterburn – Crosswinds

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC/Reader

Masterlist

OC/Reader's name is Teddy/callsign 'Kodiak'

Summary: You liked him when he was like this. You liked him all the time, but especially when he gave up on trying to get the upper hand in the conversation, and just let things be. When he was a little less Hangman and a little more Jake.

Warnings: mentions of aviation crash, mostly just hangman being a simp. smoking?

Notes: Dagger Squad took one look at Teddy and Phoenix was already printing out the adoption papers lmao. this is set post TGM, and Mav has taken up an instructing position.

Masterlist

A loud burst of buoyant laughter greets your ears, the noise out of place in the otherwise quiet administrative corridor, but not totally unwelcome. You have to suppress a smile and a roll of your eyes as you tuck a stack of papers under your arm and push open the door to what you imagine is the only currently occupied room in this part of campus.

Your arrival into your own office barely grants a pause in the ongoing conversations, though several out of the seven aviators lounging about throw you a wave or a quick greeting.

Hangman, who doesn’t appear to acknowledge your presence at all, sits in the visitor chair directly opposite your workstation, with his feet nonchalantly kicked up on your desk, one of your little model jets turning in his hands. You shove his feet off as you pass and pointedly ignore the tiny twitch of his lips that threatens to break into a full-on smirk any moment. Instead, you lean in and snatch back your model F-22 Raptor, before rounding the side of the tabletop, and falling into your chair.

Hangman’s hands stay suspended in place for a few moments, but he drops them a beat later, his eyes fixated on you in taunting amusement as you return your prized desk bauble to its proper position.

This time, you ignore him, tapping your login credentials into your computer, and shuffling the papers from under your arm to the surface in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Hangman’s fingers reaching out for something else, a pen or another of your model jets most likely, and the flash of surprise that flickers across his face when you sharply slap his knuckles away is almost enough for you to mirror the self-satisfied smirk he’d been wearing only moments prior.

“I know you’re capable of looking with your eyes, Hangman, considering you like to stare so much,” you tease, using the same voice that you might with a naughty child. The man across from you relents with suspiciously little bitching, and leans back in his seat, fingers laced together.

“You know Teddy Bear, I’ve been told that women like eye contact,” Hangman’s smile only grows when you fix him with an unamused look.

“And just like everything else, Hangman, you take that too far,” Phoenix scoffs from the scant seating area right behind him, where she sits facing you with Rooster and Bob.

The green eyes still boring into yours suddenly gain a challenging glint, and he opens his mouth, turning in his seat to respond, but you cut him off.

“Now, now, children…” you say scoldingly, earning an annoyed frown from Hangman, and a shrug from Phoenix.

You go back to updating your records, and for a while the tapping of your keyboard undercuts the soft conversation that fills your office, and you happily listen to the aviators discussing today’s training. It was pleasant to have the company, as much as you pretended to be exasperated with certain people, not-so-deep down you were more than alright with the Civilian Instructors’ Staff Room becoming the new hangout for the group.

It had started several weeks back now, with Phoenix and Bob visiting you on your lunch hour. The next day they brought Fanboy and Payback, who the day after that, had convinced Rooster to come along, and naturally there was no way that Rooster would be invited to any social gathering that Hangman was excluded from, so he and Coyote had tagged along too.

Now it wasn’t just your lunch breaks that had your office full of pilots, since it was plainly obvious that you were the only current civilian instructor on base, they had started using the office as their own lay-room in place of the one used by the rest of the pilots. Coyote had made up the excuse last week that the usual rec room had too many younger aviators in it, and this week it was because you were apparently closer to the hangar. With every new excuse, you’d simply let out a huff and roll your eyes with a knowing smile.

The first time you’d actually been forced to interrogate the how’s or whys had been a week ago, after Maverick had spent the best part of an hour searching for his group and had eventually come looking for you to ask if you’d seen them. He’d found your office filled with his rowdy squad of aviators having an intense argument, split down the middle over Kong vs Godzilla. After declaring Godzilla would be the winner hands down, Mav had ordered them all out.

A bemused smile plays on Maverick’s lips, and he shakes his head. One of his hands holds open your office door, and the other ushers out his squad of aviators, all wearing matching looks of sheepishness at having been discovered.

Once the last pilot has filtered out, the older man turns to look back at you, his handsome features pulled into a concerned, almost fatherly grimace. It was an expression that you’d become rather used to since you’d begun working together.

“Teddy…” Mav begins, and he almost sounds exasperated, before he pauses, and softens his tone. “I should tell them not to bother you,” he says, but you can hear the subtle question beneath the statement. He sounds sympathetic and gentle in just about the only manner that doesn’t automatically make you retch these days.

Your eyes dip down to your hands on your desk, and you spin your pen skilfully around your pointer, ring, and third fingers. It was a trick you had picked up several years ago, confined to a hospital bed and with nothing else to occupy your mind.

When you look back up, you see Mav eying your movements, his lips pulling down in the corners. He knew as well as you did by now that it was an anxious habit.

“I don’t mind. Really, having them around is nice… everyone around here treats me like I’m made of glass, it’s nice to just… have friends,” you purse your lips and drop your pen, before reaching out and straightening the model jet that a certain pilot had been playing with earlier. Another nervous tick that doesn’t go unnoticed.

You didn’t talk about this subject with many people, if anyone, but since being introduced to Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, you’d discovered the man’s earnest, ironically down-to-earth kindness was good at weeding the truth out of those around him.

“I think…” Mav starts but trails off, looking out into the hall quickly, and then stepping further into your office, letting the door close behind him before he continues. “I think they know that if things were different, you would have been recalled alongside them. They respect you for that,” he tells you softly.

You were never one for bragging, but you can’t deny that he was probably right. Still, you scoff out a small laugh and cross your arms over your chest.

“I think they’re just teacher’s pets,” you try to brush off his praise.

Maverick only shoves his hands in his pockets with a fond smile and shrugs.

“I’m just saying, they treat you like one of their own for a reason,” his face turns more serious then, and he drops his chin slightly. “But I understand if having them around all the time brings up some difficult feelings. Just say the word and…” he trails off again, just as someone calls for him out in the corridor.

You shake your head definitively then and smile softly, but genuinely. You were thankful that he’d even thought about that angle at all. To be honest, you were thankful in general for the oddball friendship the two of you had struck up while working together.

“Really, Mav, it’s fine. They won’t be able to sit around here forever, so it’s nice to have them back for as long as I can,” you pick up your pen again, and spin it mindlessly in your fingers. Neither of you point out that you didn’t even know half of the detachment before they’d been recalled to Miramar for their most recent assignment. You couldn’t really describe it as ‘having them back’, but you know he gets what you mean.

Maverick watches you closely for several more seconds, his eyes dropping to your spinning pen, then back to your face.

“Do me a favour while you’re up there, Cap?” you ask, leaning forward on your desk. Mav straightens up some and cocks his head.

“Shoot down everyone who argued for Kong,” you tease with a grin, and receive a laugh and a lazy salute in reply before you’re left completely alone once more.

You brush the memory aside, another train of thought crossing your mind.

You flick your eyes to Hangman’s neatly pressed tan uniform, and then to your watch for the time. Doing your best to sound nonchalant, you clear your throat, but don’t look away from your work.

“What are you guys still doing here?” you ask, referring to the late afternoon time, and the fact they’d clearly already run simulations this morning. Their duties for the day would have been finished at least an hour ago, giving them time to shower and change into their khakis.

“We’re headed to the Hard Deck after clock-off,” Coyote says, picking up an abandoned stress ball left behind on one of the desks and tosses it across the room where Phoenix easily catches it with one hand, before quickly offloading it to Rooster, who pitches it to Payback.

“You should’ve already clocked off by my count,” you say quietly, trying to sound more than only half-focused on your work.

“You’ve still got an hour,” Rooster tells you unnecessarily. You were aware now of what they were waiting for, and despite yourself, your heart grows warm.

“You know I can always just meet you there,” you say after clearing your throat once more.

“And give you the chance to skip out on shots again, Teddy Bear?” Hangman cuts in, somehow managing the feat of smirking and pouting at the same time.

“You know I don’t drink, right?” you cock your head at him with a squint, but he only shrugs.

For a moment your eyes linger on his mouth as he flicks a toothpick between his lips and tongue, having produced it from somewhere when you weren’t looking. When you lift your gaze again, he lets you know he’d spotted your shift in focus with a taunting lift of his brows, his smirk growing to near Cheshire proportions. You can only shake your head good-naturedly at his antics.

“Well, we figured we’d all just head on over together when you got done,” Coyote says, drawing your attention. You open your mouth to protest once more, not wanting them to feel obligated to stick around just for you, but you’re cut off by Phoenix.

“You get to dunk on any greens today?” she asks, a smile playing on her lips. Her question successfully distracts you and you drag your eyes away from Coyote with a matching smile and a scoff.

“There’s always one or two in a new class,” you roll your eyes.

“Do they not get that you have a pretty big say in whether or not they get their certification?” Phoenix asks rhetorically. You just shrug and absently start spinning your pen between your fingers.

“Well, if they don’t, they learn quickly or they learn the hard way,” you reply. It wasn’t in your nature to grandstand or call people out, especially in front of their peers, but you also weren’t going to allow some snot-nosed pilot to walk all over you. They tended to straighten up and shut their mouths once Warlock or Cyclone himself had a word or two with them.

The conversation easily flows on after that, and you occupy the rest of your afternoon finishing up a few tasks you needed to get done for Monday, chipping in with a comment here or there.

Your F-22 somehow finds its way back into Hangman’s clutches while you’re distracted, but this time there’s an almost child-like curiosity to him as he inspects the model exhaustively, and you find that you don’t have the heart to take it off him again.

When five o’clock ticks around at last, you pack up your desk and note with fond amusement that your model is promptly returned to the exact position you liked. Once you’ve grabbed your coat and bag, you allow yourself to be whisked away.

***

It never seemed to matter what day of the week it was, the Hard Deck was consistently busy. You suppose it helps to have the Naval base so close by, which was like having built-in regulars, as well as a stream of constant new faces.

You can still remember vividly the first time you stepped foot inside the bar, almost eight years ago now, still fresh-faced, a little wet behind the ears, and filled with the sort of energy only a twenty-two-year-old hot-shot Naval Aviator can possess. Back then you hadn’t really spent all that much time off North Island, but ever since Dagger squad had been around, you’d found yourself happy to be regularly crammed into one of the many small booths.

The sound of pool balls bouncing off one another cracks sharply and draws you back into the present. You throw a cursory glance toward the ongoing pool game, your lip quirking at the intensely competitive expressions on everyone’s faces. At this point in the night, they were all taking the game seriously still, but you know that later it would descend into thinly veiled duels over who could sink the coolest trick shot– or more entertainingly– making up some weird ‘dogfight’ version of the rules that would have generally have onlookers baffled.

Bob steps into sight then, briefly blocking your view of the game as he places two sodas down on the table between you, before somehow folding his not insignificant height into the booth opposite you. You watch fondly as he ducks forward to sweep back some hair that had uncharacteristically fallen into his eyes, looking almost like someone had ruffled it.

“Thanks!” you pull your drink towards you and take a sip, relishing in the ice-cold fizz that almost burns on its way down your throat.

“Penny said they’re on her,” he tells you, his mussed-up hair making sense now. You turn quickly to find Penny in her usual spot behind the bar, and even as she busily works to serve orders, you catch her eye, and send her a thankful wave. You hadn’t fully figured out why Penny never seemed to charge you or Bob for your drinks, but you were grateful regardless.

“So… opinions on the Spitfire and the Mustang?” you ask, watching the way Bob’s eyes light up behind his oversized glasses.

“The fuel capabilities and combat range of the Mustang outclass Spitfires by a mile,” Bob tells you, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on the table in front of him.

“But I’d be lying if I said that the Spitfire wasn’t my favourite,” he tells you almost giddily, and his smile is contagious.

“I mean, it just looks so cool!” you exclaim in agreement, glad that you were on the same page. Bob’s nose scrunches sweetly as he takes a drink from his glass, nodding all the while.

“I’m going to work on the Mk 24 this weekend,” you tell him a moment later. “The curator at the museum of Naval Aviation is letting me backstage this weekend, so I can take some reference photos of the paintjob,” you had to admit you were rather excited about the whole thing, but even still, you speak somewhat quietly, making sure you won’t be overheard.

It was silly, and you don’t really know where it comes from, but you felt shy about your weekend pass time. Maybe it was because it felt like the hobby of an elderly man, but regardless, you’d found a friend in Bob, who had expressed his fondness for miniature model building upon spying the F-22 Raptor you kept on your desk.

Phoenix had blinked between the two of you that first lunchtime they’d spent in your office, as you’d both discussed at length the model series you liked most, as well as preferred painting techniques. Bob didn’t actively build anything himself; he was too convinced he’d become completely obsessed, and in his own words he ‘didn’t need any more obstacles to getting a date’, but he’d let himself get invested in the online community back during his first deployment.

You’re about to ask if he (and likely by extension, Phoenix) would like to come along with you, but a nearby conversation makes you pause.

“Richter told me it’s cause she waited too long to pull her chute, wasn’t enough time for a clear landing,” a male voice says.

“If she was so good, how’d she mess that up?” another voice asks, scoffing back their disbelief.

“Apparently she refused to eject without WSO, but he got knocked out on first impact,” a third voice fills in, sounding far less derisive.

“I heard that she was lucky she even survived long enough for the medics to find them,” the first voice first voice returns, sounding somewhat awed.

“Guess it’s kind of fortunate she saved her WSO then, huh?” the second voice replies.

“’Fortunate’?! You’re joking, right? Kodiak has to be the unluckiest pilot the Navy has ever had!” the third speaker exclaims, a little louder this time, mirth filling his voice now.

“She got shot down right outta TOPGUN, pulled her chute so late she hit the ground hard enough to puncture both her lungs, and then she contracts some infection or whatever the hell else, wrecking her lungs to the point she’s now got goddamn lung disease!” A pause follows his frantic sounding rant, followed by the sound of an emptied beer bottle being fisted down.

“Honestly, I think I’d just have preferred to die in the crash,” the second person says, his tablemates voicing their quick agreement.

You blink at the frank coldness of the statement, and even though you try, you can’t stop yourself from taking a quick look over your shoulder in the direction of where the voices were coming from. You spy a table with three of your current students, which quickly makes you flick your head back around again before they see you.

Their discussion of your accident doesn’t bother you; you’d come to expect it these days. Whenever a new class came through it was all but inevitable that they would gossip to each other about their civilian instructor, more specifically about your unique situation. You couldn’t blame them really; it wasn’t as though they were wrong about you being incredibly unlucky. Frankly, your fragile health condition felt like an utterly sarcastic response from the universe for having the nerve to be young, driven, and extremely promising in your chosen career. Like the outcome of some Wishmaster bargain.

Back when you’d still been able to fly, you had gotten familiar with being the best. You were a damn good pilot, and it was clear to everyone around you from the moment you got in a cockpit. You never let it go to your head though, after all, it wasn’t just pure natural talent. You had worked incredibly hard to make sure you were outdoing yourself every time you got in the air, to make sure that you were constantly punching up, challenging yourself.

You certainly weren’t the youngest pilot to be invited to go to Miramar to get your TOPGUN certification, not by a long shot, but you were the youngest in over thirty years to graduate top of the class.

Putting yourself in your students’ shoes, knowing all of that, coupled with the fact that you would never again be able to fly… Well, it added up to be a perfect kind of tragedy, really. It was a cautionary tale to some, a dramatic fable to others.

As far as you were concerned, you’d made your peace with your conditions a long time ago. There was no point in dwelling on something you had no control over and couldn’t change. You chose instead to focus on what you could have control over, so you took all your potential, all of that raw talent, and channelled it down a new path.

At the end of the day, you were alive, relatively unharmed, and able to work in a field you adored. You couldn’t complain about that.

“Do you… do you want me to say something?” Bob’s voice cuts through your reverie, and you find yourself blinking back at him with wide, puzzled eyes.

“What?” you ask dopily, unsure of what exactly he meant. Your confusion is cleared up a moment later however, when he dips his chin toward the table of your students, his eyes flickering nervously between you and them. Clearly, he had overheard the conversation too.

Your face softens at that, and you shake your head gently.

“No, it’s alright. They aren’t doing anything wrong,” you wave him off, but deep down, you feel touched that Bob, who seemed to despise any kind of one-on-one confrontation, was willing to step in on your behalf. You see him purse his lips uncertainly.

“What happened to me isn’t exactly usual,” you remind him, trying to sound light and airy. “There’s always some talk surrounding it when I get a new class. They’ll get it out of their systems and move on soon enough,” you assure him, and you mean it, however it takes several more seconds of your companion studying your features before his face and posture relax, and he gives you an almost nervous little nod.

You take a sip of your drink and look away to check the current status of the ongoing pool game. A glance tells you that predictably Hangman was in the lead, but not because of the number of balls he’d sunk, but more due to his peacock-like display from the sidelines. You watch as he turns and cocks his head at Phoenix, saying something clearly taunting, his signature infuriating smirk pulled across his features.

You struggle to keep a straight face when behind Hangman’s back, Payback reaches into the nearest basket and retrieves one of the insufferable blonde’s balls and places it back on the table. You make eye contact as he steps innocently away, and you share a look of sworn secrecy. You wonder briefly how long this has been going on for already, but more than that, you wonder how long it’ll take before Hangman notices.

“How’d you save your WSO?” Bob’s question makes you snap your gaze sharply back to his, and you realise he hadn’t looked away from you yet. You stutter for a moment, before blinking away your surprise.

“I… I released the yoke and shook him awake…” you mutter. Sure, you weren’t bothered when others spoke about your accident, but you never discussed it yourself. Bob considers your words carefully, before he lifts his chin slightly, his eyes flickering between yours.

“That’s why your altitude was so low when you ejected,” it isn’t a question, it’s a missing piece of the puzzle, to him at least, and for the first time in your (admittedly short) friendship, you find yourself forced to look away.

In your efforts to look anywhere but at Bob, you accidentally make eye contact with Hangman. He’s bent over the pool table, facing directly towards you, and with no small amount of amusement behind his look, he holds your gaze and blindly takes his shot, expertly sinking the ball without even looking.

You can picture him performing the trick to impress one of the many women that often fawn over him at the Hard Deck, how the display alone would get them hook, line, and sinker.

You, on the other hand, find yourself practically staring through him as you try to banish all further thoughts of your accident from your mind. Unfortunately, your expression mustn’t be as blank as you’d thought it was, because as Hangman straightens once more to his full height, his eyebrows crease together, and his gaze abruptly flickers down, quickly taking note of how stiff and uncomfortable you are.

When he meets your eyes again, his frown has only deepened, and you watch dumbly as he cocks his head questioningly. It occurs to you then, that you don’t think you’ve ever seen him tip his head like that without a hefty helping of mockery to go alongside it. Concern isn’t exactly an emotion you’re used to from Hangman, and you aren’t really sure of how to process it properly. Instead, you tear your eyes away from him entirely, and face Bob again.

You suddenly can’t remember why this conversation had felt so daunting a moment ago.

“Hey, can we talk about something else?” you ask lightly, thankful when your booth buddy nods happily, looking up as you’re joined by Halo, who deposits a bowl of chips on the table, before squeezing in next to Bob.

You ignore looking in Hangman’s direction for the next hour or so. Normally you had all the patience in the world for Hangman’s button pushing, but right now you’re not sure you can muster up the energy to take any of it.

To be honest you found him amusing, though you were well aware that you’d never been on the receiving end of his more overtly malicious jabs, which he seemed to make less of these days anyway. Unlike most of the people around you, especially aviators, Hangman didn’t treat you as though you would break with the lightest of touches. His blatantly flippant and laissez-faire approach to your generally sensitive circumstances was more than welcome.

Still, even you had bad days, and after your questioning earlier, you didn’t really feel like joking right now. If he was really concerned, he could ask you about it later, but you’re almost certain he’ll have forgotten by tomorrow morning.

***

Just like a reflection of the Hard Deck itself, as the night wanes on, your already cramped booth steadily fills up with aviators. The scarred wooden table at the centre is scattered with empty glasses and beer bottles, and the bowl of fries Halo had brought over earlier was long devoured. The pool game had ended some time ago, the polished edges of the table now being used as extra seating, which you know Penny would hate.

You’d found it thankfully easy to put aside the heaviest aspects of your earlier tailspin, checking into the rowdy conversation happily. A few of the younger pilots, not your students, had approached the table earlier, and after they’d left again, to fill another round most likely, you’d found yourself bashfully rolling your eyes and shaking your head as the squad had heckled you over the mooning of the younger men.

It had to be nearing midnight when you at last extract yourself from the sticky seating. The air had become hot and heady now, not just within the space of your booth, but throughout the bar as a whole. It wasn’t too bad, but it did feel thick in your lungs, and you knew it could quickly grow into a large problem for you, may as well refresh yourself now.

Stepping through the door to the empty back deck of the venue, you’re amazed at how much noise the simple wood and glass doors can muffle. The night was dark, but in front of you somewhere, you can hear the lapping of the waves, and you step out closer to the railing, breathing in deeply the sea salt air.

You’re a little ashamed to say you jump at the sound of the back door opening again, the roar inside drowning out the ocean for a few seconds, and you turn back to see Hangman gently closing the door behind him.

He wears an easy expression as his eyes fall on you, and you look away to lean back against the railings as he approaches.

“Everything alright?” The lightness in his voice is easily discernible as put on, but frankly, you’re too surprised by the question to figure out why.

“Huh?” you blink up at him with a frown as he comes to lean against the rail besides you, his back toward the ocean and his arms crossed over his chest. The pose, and his proximity make him seem even larger.

“Earlier, you, uh, you looked all…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, and you note that he also doesn’t mockingly demonstrate however he thought you’d looked. You straight up a little, your frown smoothing out.

“Oh, everything is fine. Bob just… he just asked me something about my crash,” you only decide halfway through your sentence to tell him the truth, and you can tell by the ensuing pause, and the way he flicks his eyes carefully over your face that he hadn’t really been expecting you to tell him.

As if he realises his surprise has been visible, he clears his throat and looks away from you, back toward the doors.

“Huh. Wouldn’ta thought Bobby-Boy had it in him,” he says shifting his stance slightly, still not looking back at you. You can practically hear him thinking.

“Hm, you clearly don’t know him very well,” you say wryly, your smile only growing when his face whips back to yours, an almost mortified look of alarm painted over his features.

“Oh Jesus, Jake, not like that,” you reach out and shove his arm roughly, giving a scoff at his stupid man-brain.

Predictably, your shove doesn’t do too much to dislodge him, but you can at least enjoy the feeling of his hard muscle under your hand for a moment. His alarm is replaced with a derisive sort of disgust, but you can tell it's playful more than anything else.

“Good,” he says flatly, and this time doesn’t look away from you, resuming his regular routine of using his stare as some kind of powerplay. You shake your head even as you glance back to squint out at the ocean, your smile still pulling at your lips involuntarily.

“You’re so insecure,” you tease him, earning a scoff.

“Excuse me?!”

You can see his chest puffing out of the corner of your gaze.

“I take my attention off of you for one second and you’re going nutter-butter and getting all pouty about it,” you chortle, glancing briefly back up at him. Even in the dim outdoor lighting you can see the light pink wash that has coloured his ears.

He’s seemingly only able to glower down at you in response, clearly unimpressed at just how aware you were that you had him wrapped around your finger. He scoffs again, looking away, but doesn’t speak, and your grin widens.

You liked him when he was like this. You liked him all the time, but especially when he gave up on trying to get the upper hand in the conversation, and just let things be. When he was a little less Hangman and a little more Jake. It strikes you, however, that he doesn’t even attempt to argue back, the silence stretching on between you saying more than enough.

You look away and nudge him once more, using your whole shoulder this time, which seems to take him off guard, and he sways lightly at your touch.

“Besides, I only have eyes for one aviator,” you say lightly. Hangman’s shoulders square, and his lips begin to form a familiar Cheshire grin as straightens up to his full height, looking down at you almost haughtily.

“Damn straight,”

“I was talking about Rooster,” you tease, and you’re glad the playfulness has returned, his hand covering his heart as his face twists in faux pain.

“You’re cruel, you know that darlin’?”

You let out a laugh as Hangman stares down at you, the fond look in his eyes only turning sharp and annoyed when the back door opens again, and you both look up to spy an unfamiliar man stepping out of the bar.

He seems oblivious to the moment he’s interrupted, sending you both a quick nod before he moves to stand a couple of metres away from you at the railing, his hands fiddling with something. You watch as he tucks a cigarette between his lips, and lifts his lighter to the ends, cupping his free hand around the flame so the cool breeze won’t blow it out.

Before you get a chance to say anything, besides you your companion has stiffened, straightening to his full height once again and stepping away from the rail.

“You can’t smoke here,” he says loudly, catching the guy’s attention as he blows out his first puff, and shoves his lighter away. He looks around at the decking, before his eyes land back on Hangman.

“I don’t see a sign,” he says evenly.

Hangman has stepped around you completely now, almost blocking your view of the other man, who you must note, wouldn’t stand a chance against the aviator if he decided to get physical.

“Listen buddy, my friend’s got a pretty sensitive lung problem, if she breathes in any of that, she’ll get real sick, so I’m asking if you can go stand somewhere else?”

You’re surprised by his words, and despite the patient sound of them, his tone is nowhere near as restrained. You gently reach out for the arm that he’d used to gesture back at you, even as the other man blows out another smokey breath.

“Jake, it’s fine, we can go,” you say, a pit building in your stomach when he doesn’t even look back down at you, the muscle of his jaw beginning to tick.

“Yeah. You can go,” the other man smirks, and somehow, it’s even more infuriating and smug than any of Hangman’s has ever been.

Your grip on your friend’s arm tightens too late as he pulls away from you, reaching the other man in only two strides as you call out for him to stop. Ignoring you, Hangman rips the cigarette from the other man’s mouth and tosses it into the sand, where it blows out.

“Jake!” you shout, a little louder as he gets in the other guy’s face, and you realise your voice is echoed by another.

Phoenix stands in the open doorway, and behind her you can see Coyote by the booth, throwing a curious glance your way. You shake your head at him, just as Phoenix repeats her stern call. Hangman snaps out of it, and steps back from the man. By the time he’s turned back to you, his face reads nothing of the anger he’d just displayed.

“Come on, it’s getting cold, anyway,” he says flippantly. You’re only able to frown at him, but he seems to ignore it, carefully pushing past Phoenix who still stands in the doorway, fixing Jake with a firm look he subsequently brushes off.

“Guy was an asshole,” he mutters by way of explanation. She moves aside for you to follow, and you can only give her a shrug in response to the eyebrow she raises at you.

You find yourself following Jake as he leads you back towards the bar, instead of the booth, and when your senses finally come back to you, you smack his arm sharply.

“You didn’t need to do that! The last thing you need is to get cited for fighting. They’d ground you!” you scold, even as he guides you into one of the stools.

“Nah, you love it, s’why you keep me around,” he rebuffs, flagging down a bartender and relaying your drinks order. You frown at him again as he leans casually against the wooden surface and looks down at you.

“No… I keep you around because you’re my friend,” you tell him, still annoyed, though it lessens when his smirk morphs into something more like surprise.

Your drinks are pushed toward you with nary another word, and Jake taps his card without even breaking your eye contact.

“How’d you even know I can get sick from smoke?” you change the subject quickly, but his face only turns even more bashful, and he looks down at his beer and shrugs.

“Mav told us,” he says, making you blanch.

“He what?” you demand, almost angry for a moment. You didn’t like being treated like glass, you didn’t like when people worried over you unnecessarily–

“He just said we should always wash up before going to your office, the jet fumes were enough to irritate your lungs.”

Your anger subsides, and you feel a little foolish. Of course, Mav hadn’t told them out of pity. He was right, the harsh fumes lingering on their flight suits could be enough to make your respiratory system inflamed. You’d learnt the hard way after you’d started teaching.

“Just figured if traces on us were enough to make you sick, then second-hand smoke definitely would,” Jake follows up, cutting his eyes back towards you, and you can’t help but smile softly. You lean forwards, chin resting in your palm, making him cock his head down at you.

“For someone who takes pride in pissing off his friends, you really do care a lot, don’t you?” Your question makes him bluster, and he tries his best to look nonchalant and annoyed, but his quirking lips give him away.

He leans in toward you too, close enough that you almost pull back, but you steal yourself instead as he gets a hold of his face, and fixes you with an infuriating, yet fond smirk.

“Only for you, Teddy Bear.”

#jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #top gun: maverick #jake seresin #hangman x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #Fic: Afterburn

651 notes · View notes

your-favorite-god · 7 months

Text

Vita nostra aeterna pt 1

Wednesday's child is full of woe, ep 1

I’m not sure whose twisted idea it was to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago… but I admire the sadism.

A monochromatic girl walked the halls of a seemingly normal high school, walking swiftly when she turned and pulled open a locker. Out falls her younger brother, Pugsley.

“ I want names.”

‘I don't know who they were, honest! It happened so fast…”, the boy panics. He didn't want to witness the outcome of whatever his sister did.

“Pugsley, emotion equals weakness. Pull yourself together.” As her brother continued to squirm and whimper Wednesday tried to start a sentence but was rudely interrupted. Images of what had happened before, her head thrown back as she saw the horrid jocks jeering at her little brother while they tormented him. “Wednesday?”

I’m not about to confess to my brother that I’ve recently been plagued by visions. They come on without warning and feel like electroshock therapy, but without the satisfying afterburn.

“Leave this to me”, Wednesday says as she promptly walks away. “Wednesday? What are you gonna do?” Pugsley questions, now free from his restraints.

“What I do best.”

Endears POV:

“Wednesday, you know I always love your company. But is now the time? I was just about to tell Christina what happened at that gathering her precious Jonathan attended before class started”

She stares at me with a bag of piranhas in hand,” Cara, do you still have the peroxyacetic acid you made?” I look at her with a raised brow, “Of course I do, why?”. “Those fools hog-tied Pugsley and shoved him in his locker. I intend to teach them a lesson.”

I can see how this might be confusing for you, allow me to briefly explain. Wednesday Addams is what most would call my best friend.

Soulmate.

Shush ma morelle, anyways, we met a decade ago in the woods. She intruded upon my home and I found her very cute. So I decided to stay with her, my adorable little human. I came with her to her home and have continued to live with her family. I've even joined her in this boring little hovel named school. Or Should I say schools, we’ve been to many. Wednesday has this horrible habit of getting caught.

It’s more satisfying to watch the looks on my victims' faces.

As you can see, Wednesday has no appreciation for subtlety. But we’re just getting to the fun part, so let us get back to it.

“Well then, allow me to raise you a better idea. Thallium in the principal's coffee. I’d prefer to avoid life on the run for now.” Wednesday pauses for a second, then looks at me with her version of loving eyes. “Brilliant mi vida, as always.”

And off we went.

Non, Je ne regrette rien - Edith Piaf | Wednesday Soundtrack | Wednesday drops piranhas in the pool

We had stepped through the doors of the practice room as I heard the jocks mutter to themselves,

“ Yo Dalton look, pigsleys sister and her weird ass friend. Hey, freaks! This is a closed practice!”

Wednesday leveled them with her usual murderous stare as she spoke,” The only person that gets to torture my brother is me.”

Nothing delighted me more than the fear on everyone's faces as she dropped the bag of piranhas into the pool, blood seeping into the normally crystal-blue chlorine-filled water. And that is how we landed ourselves here. In the Addams family car with Wednesday's parents, Morticia and Gomez. They were singing In Dreams as they doted on one another, Wednesday was brooding next to me. Unsatisfied with being shipped away to her parents' former school. “Darling, how long do you intend on giving us the cold shoulder?” Morticia spoke as Gomez continued to kiss her arm and neck.

“Lurch, please remind my parents that I’m no longer speaking to them,” Wednesday replies, making me grin. I love it when she's like this, all petulant and ruffled, most of the time it means I’ll get to play around while she's busy thinking and sulking. Her mother hums as her father tries to persuade his daughter,” I promise you, my little viper, you will love Nevermore. Won’t she, Tish?” “Of course. It’s the perfect school for her. For them both really.” This irks Wednesday as she replies, “ Why? Because it was the perfect school for you? I have no interest in following in your footsteps. Becoming captain of the fencing team, Queen of the dark prom, president of the seance society.” Morticia looks at Wednesday with a serene face, always ever so calm and poised. “I merely meant that finally, you will be among peers who understand you. Maybe you’ll even make some friends.” Gomez looks at Wednesday with his signature grin,” Nevermore is like no other boarding school. It’s a magical place. It’s where I met your mother.” “and we fell in love.” They look at each other with this mutually infatuated gaze and sigh. Wednesday's eyes darken, if that's possible,” You guys are making me nauseous. And not in a good way.” They looked at her again” Darling, we aren’t the ones who got you expelled. That boy’s family was going to file attempted murder charges. How would that have looked on your record?” Wednesday looked off as her eyes widened slightly,” terrible. Everyone would know I failed to get the job done.” At that I couldn't keep it in, I chuckled as the little family smirked at me. Save for Wednesday of course who was still very occupied with her brooding.

My my, this was going to be a fun new adventure. I can feel it.

As we drove through the strong… iron… gates of this new school, morticia made mention od the weather. An admirable attempt at small talk through the thick silence, normally i would be the one to break it but wednesday specifically told me to give her parents the cold shoulder. If I’m being honest i dont entirely understand why but she looked so cutr and annoyed when she asked in her own way. How did she word it again? Oh yes, i was to be silent or else she would lock me in a tower and take all my jewelry. And my tongue.

3rd POV

Finally the small family unit had made it to the principals office, greeted by Larissa weems.

“Wednesday is certainly a unique name, i'm guessing it was the day you were born?” she spoke with a grin, after everyone had taken their appropriate seat. Save of course for endeara, she preferred to stand. Tall in her red bottom pumps and silk blouse, she had taken her place behind wednesday, gazing at her new principle with a veiled look of boredom and small smile.

“I was born on friday the 13th.” wednesday quickly rectified, as morticia followed, “Her name comes from a line from my favorite nursery rhyme, Wednesdays child is full of woe.”

“You always had a unique perspective on the world morticia, did your mother tell you we used to be roomates?” Principle weems said fondly, her welcoming facade staying strong through the addam’s penetrating gazes.

“And you graduated with your sanity intact? Impressive.” wednesday spoke again. The topic quickly changed as the principle spoke of her and endearas “interesting educational journey.”

“Eight schools in five years?” Weems questioned,” They havent built one strong enough to hold us. I’m sure this one wont be any different.” wednesday replied with her same bluntness. Endeara simply smiled as her parents bristled and were about to reply,” Thats just wednesdays way of trying to say she is very excited for this new opportunity. As am i, and thank you for giving us such a gift.” their new principle seemed to fully take in endeara then, all elegance and playful smiles as she dressed in her small red bottomed pumps and silk black blouse.

“Nevermore doesn’t usually accept students mid-term, but given their perfect grades and your family’s long history with the school, I’ve spoken with the board and we’ve made an exception.” Weems said simply as the addams parents joined hands in satisfaction, “what about their um,... therapy sessions? The court ordered them.” morticia eyed her daughter as she spoke, hesitant to ask. “The school school has a relationship with a therapist in jericho, she can meet twice a week.” they all looked to wednesday as gomez spoke,” did you hear that my little storm cloud? Youre in excellent hands.”

“We’ll see if she survives the first session” wednesday quipped back, her gaze unwavering to the woman in front of her as mortica and endeara grinned at her as well.

The principle resumed again, unbothered. Truly impressing endeara as she spoke again,” ive assigned wednesday to her mothers old dorm. Ophelia hall.” morticia gasps and chuckles excitedly as wednesday turns to her and says,” refresh my memory. Ophelia’s the one who kills herself after being driven mad by her family, correct?” morticia nods happily as the principle leans forward with a plastered grin

“Shall we go meet your new roommate?’

Endearas POV

We go to wednesdays new dorm and its… something. The family is stunned as morticia speaks,” its so… vivid.” The girl, the new roommate, looks at me and gasps excitedly “Howdy roomie!” and i have to bite my lips from cackling. I mean this is just beautiful, but our principle steals all the fun and introduces wednesday. “wednesday , this is enid sinclair.” Enid looks to from me to wednesday confused, maybe even disappointed, as she asks,” are you okay? You look a little pale.” and mortica smiles as she explains,”wednesday always looks half dead.” “its genetic” i whisper, smiling at the girl. Enid goes in for a hug from wednesday as we both step back, she looks disheartened as she mumbles,” not a hugger. Got it.” morticia pipes up again,”please excuse wednesday. She’s allergic to color.” enid looks shocked,” oh wow. What happens to you?”

“I break out in hives and then the flesh peels from my bones.” this is when our principle speaks again,” luckily weve special ordered your and endears new uniforms. Enid, please take them to the registrar’s office to pick it up along with her schedule, and give them a tour along the way.”

I whisper quietly to Wednesday, ”If they dare put me in cheap, scratchy, suffocating material…i will raze this school to the ground.” Wednesday almost smirks as the Addams look at me in pride and the other two look at me in horror. This tour better be good.

147 notes · View notes

justamegafan · 1 year

Text

Record of Ragnarok Incorrect Quote #10

Don’t mess with Wednesday Y/N

W!Y/N is walking down the hallway filled with deity children all of which are laughing until they notice her presence, which they move out of her way in fear

Wednesday Y/N (To herself): I’m not sure who’s twisted idea it was to put hundreds of adolescent deities in charge of what to do with Humanity by higher deities who’s dreams were crushes years ago… (Looks at Poseidon, Shiva and Aphrodite) but I admire the sadism

Wednesday Y/N walks over to her little brother Cain’s locker which has graffiti over it with insults, opens it and finds Cain all ties up with an Apple in his mouth as he falls over to the ground

Wednesday Y/N (Leans over her brother and takes out the Apple in his mouth): I want names

Cain (Crying): I don’t know who they were, honest. It happened so fast!

Wednesday Y/N (Untying her brother): Cain, emotion equals weakness. Pull yourself together

Cain (Whimpering):

Wednesday Y/N: Now

As Y/N touches her brothers wrists, she suddenly has a vision of a few older adolescent deities that bullied her brother

Wednesday Y/N (Gasps):

Cain (Concerned for his sister): You okay?

Wednesday Y/N (To herself): I’m not about to confess to my brother that I’ve recently been plagued by visions. They come on without warning, and feel like Electroshock Therapy, but without the satisfying afterburn

Wednesday Y/N (Gets up): Leave this to me

Cain (Scared): Y/N? What are you gonna do?

Wednesday Y/N (Pauses and turns around to look at her brother): What I do best (Walks off)

‘Non, Je Ne Regrette Rein’ begins to play

The teenage deities that bullied Cain are exercising/goofing off in a swimming pool, with W!Y/N slowly walking in on them

Deity Bully #1: Yo, look! It’s Cain’s sister!

All the Deities look at the entrance to see Y/N walk in with her regular stoic

Deity Bully #2: Hey, freak. This is a closed practice

All the Deities (Begin laughing at Y/N):

Wednesday Y/N: The only person who gets to torture my brothers is me (Reveals 2 bags full of Piranhas)

All the Deities (Begin to turn pale and freak out):

Wednesday Y/N (Drops both the bags full of piranhas into the pool):

The Piranhas, thus begin to quickly swim towards the deities with intent to harm them

While the Deities are screaming as they’re trying to swim out of the pool, Y/N has a very small smile slowly creeping up her face, and finally smiles when one of her Piranha pals bites into a Deity, making them bleed as they’re screaming in utter agony

Adam and Eve are very proud of their daughter defending her brother

#Record of Ragnarok Incorrect Quote #RoR Cain #Wednesday Y/N can communicate with Animals too #Wednesday Y/N has the Gods shooketh #Wednesday Y/N doesn’t screw around #Source: Wednesday #Wednesday Y/N cares about her brother #But she shows her care in a tougher way #Wednesday Y/N is tough as nails

53 notes · View notes

therealgchu · 2 months

Text

To the Shore - Hart & Soul

new chapter, as promised! Hart & Soul is now up.

as the name implies, it deals with matters of the hart. this was actually pretty fun writing cos of hwa's past. i had a nice bit of playground in which to run around in. it's also pretty long, so sorry in advance.

if you want to read To the Shore from the beginning, it's on ao3.

oh, you want a sneak peek, do you?

Hwa ignored Sam and Lillian, and instead unslung her haversack. She jogged up and down the shallow canyon and up into the hills and salted the area with landmines, covering them with snow. When she was satisfied, she headed back to the cliff face. “I’m triggering it on my mark. I’ll jetpack to the top of the cliff immediately after. You will have about two minutes to get into position after that. Are you ready?” she shouted.

“Ready!” both Sam and Lillian shouted.

“Three-two-one-MARK!” Hwa shouted, and pulled the trigger. She immediately jetpacked up the cliff face and raced to the center. She unslung her sniper rifle, and prepared all of the ammo she had. Valerie would send a large show of force just to be flashy. Hwa expected at least four waves of ships, with at least five members on each. They had the element of surprise for the first ship, and thankfully the white Mantis armor would provide camouflage with the snow. But, it was still going to be quite the firefight, and Sam and her usual tactics weren’t going to be useful against such a large force.

She knew that this was truly the do-or-die moment for her leaving the Syndicate. She would either be free of them finally, or die here. She didn’t want to die anymore, not with Sam and Cora in her life. She crouched low, waiting for the Syndicate ships to arrive.

They didn’t have to wait long, as the afterburners of the first ship lit up the sky, the plasma trailing out and melting the snow on the hill almost directly in front of her, only about eighty meters away. What do you have worth living for? Sam ‘s voice whispered in her head. “I love you, Sam,” she whispered, and looked down her sight at the lowering docking bay ramp.

#starfield #sam coe #fanfic #space husband #fanfiction #space cowboy #coemancer #to the shore #hwa kim #spacefarer #the coemancer crew #coemancers

10 notes · View notes

maggie-004 · 10 months

Text

(Un-) Lucky coincidence – 5

Jenna Ortega x Fem reader

Summary: Y/n auditions for a role in the movie and lands the part as Friday Addams, while also being hired as a set nurse. Later, Jenna asks y/n to show her some DJing, and they spend time together, bonding over music and celebrating y/n's live stream on Twitch.

Words: 1082

“Okay Jenna, when should we record the casting scene?” I asked her, still in shock that I’m even given the opportunity. “Well how about now? Do you have a printer, so I could just print two or three pages from the script”. “Oh now? Amazing. Yeah sure come on I’ll show you. Should I set up my camera in my studio while you print the pages?” I asked Jenna in high spirits. “Sure that’ll be amazing” she just giggled at me. I showed her the printer, which is also in my Studio. I turned my camera away from my DJing stuff against a white wall, I turned on my key lights and waited patiently for Jenna to come back to me. When she showed me the first two pages from the script we sat down and did a so called chemistry read, at least that’s what Jenna told me, that’s how it’s called. My role or, my maybe future role is Wednesday’s fraternal twin sister, Friday Addams. I tried to memorize my lines for about 10 minutes, when Jenna asked me if I need more time or if I’m ready. “I guess I’m ready, I’m not really sure but I guess that’s normal. Let’s give it a try.” We did the scene where Wednesday finds Pugsley in the locker. Jenna did Pugsley’s lines as well.

Wednesday and Friday are very similar to each other, both spoke in their emotionless and monotone voice.

W: Pugsley

F: We want Names.

He whimpered

P: I don’t know who they were… honest.

W: Pull yourself together

He’s still whimpering

F: Now!

When Wednesday touched him, her head jerks back and her eyes are wide open.

P: is she okay?

F: Yes do not worry about her.

Friday continues to untie him.

Wednesday snaps back, her fringe is a mess and she’s breathing a little heavier than normal.

W:I’m not about to confess to my brother that I’ve recently been plagued by visions. They come on without warning, and feel like electroshock therapy, but without the satisfying afterburn.

F: leave this to us

P: But, what are you going to do?

W: what we do best.

They both left him on the floor.

“Woah, that was amazing.” Jenna smiled at me and gave me a big hug. I did in fact had butterflies in my stomach. Her hugs feel so warm and I don’t know, I just love them. “You really think so?” I asked a little concerned while we pulled apart. “Yeah I do that was perfect, a one take, doesn’t happen too often.” Jenna smiled at me. We watched it on my laptop together, I nearly couldn’t watch myself, but Jenna did so good. Funny thing is that she said the exact same thing about herself. Jenna wrote an E-mail to Tim with the video. Iwas so nervous but within 10 minutes we had our answer. `My dearest Friday, welcome to the set of Wednesday´. OH MY GOD “No way, I have the Job… well the Jobs. Oh my god Jenna, thank you so much oh my god, my dream comes true” I nearly screamed in excitement. I jumped up and down like a little child. Jenna grabbed my hands and Jumped with me. She was as happy as me. “I am sooo proud of you. You really did amazing, you’re a natural. I can’t wait to work with you. Oh my god that’s so amazing”

Jenna and I jumped a little more around until we were exhausted by that. We than went out to the balcony, in that time the sun had began to set. It really was beautiful, we smoked two cigarettes and just talked, mostly some random Bullshit. I know it sounds really cliché, but it feels like I had known Jenna my whole life. “Y/n, can you show me a little bit about DJing please.” She asked with puppy eyes, as if I’d say no. “Of course, let’s go into my studio. I will go live on twitch later anyways if you want you can watch me, but first I’ll show you a few things”, “Oh I’d love too, are you going live with Toni?” she asked me, when we were on our way into my studio. “No just me today, Toni is in Paris, there is the twitch con. I couldn’t go because I have to work tomorrow. Luckily I didn’t go, then all this wouldn’t have happened.”, “Yeah thank god you didn’t go” she smiled

So I showed Jenna what all the buttons are for, and showed her a mix from Fisher Loosing it and daft punk One more time. She was fascinated. I let her try, let’s just say It took more than one try but still amazing. She had a lot of fun, and I let her have her moment, until it was 8:15 p.m. “Okay Jenna, I have to get ready for my live now.” I said while putting on my black hoody and my black face Mask. “okay, I’m actually excited to see you live in action” she laughed.

I started twitch on my Computer, and got into the frame with my microphone. “Hey guys, welcome back, Before I start, I have to announce that the live won’t be as long as usual, maybe an hour and a half top. I have to get up tomorrow for work, But enjoy.” I put my microphone aside and started with the exact same thing I showed Jenna earlier, she was really vibing to it and I looked behind the camera and just smiled. My chat said `ohh someone’s there`, ´looks like someone’s in love` and stuff like that. I turned red but Jenna can’t see my chat so it’s not too embarrassing. I really was live the Full hour and a half, I had too much fun to leave earlier. Around 200-400k people watched, I felt a little guilty to end my live so `soon`, but I wanna spent some time with Jenna before I go to sleep. “All right guys, sorry for the rather short live, but as said in the beginning, I have to get up pretty early tomorrow, I’ll walk out of the frame and leave you guys alone with TOTO- Africa, Bye guys.” I did as said and ended the live after the song was done. I quickly gut rid of my hoodie and the mask, because it’s way too hot.

“So what do you think?” I asked Jenna with a big smile.

A/N: FYI English isn’t my first language plus this isn’t proof read, sorry for any mistakes, still hope you like it. :)

#jenna ortega #actors #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #the fallout #wednesday

33 notes · View notes

depressionisreal1996 · 4 months

Text

The Traumatized Omega

Chapter 1

Bold and Underlined=POV Change

Underlined=Line Break

Bold=TV Script

Italics=Thoughts

Narrator's POV

I'm not sure whose twisted idea it was to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago... but I admire the sadism.

We see a girl walking down a school hallway, with everyone parting ways in fear and disgust. They could sense the power from this tiny alpha. This alpha is known as Wednesday Addams. With each step is a purpose, she wants them to fear her. The thought makes her smirk internally. After a while, she saw some jocks walking away from a locker, laughing. She walked up to the locker and heard some whimpers coming from it, whimpers that she knows. She opens the locker to see her brother, Pugsley. After the locker was opened, Pugsley fell with a thud.

Wednesday's POV

"I want names," I told my brother emotionlessly. These people need to know that only I was allowed to torture my brother, I thought in my head.

"I don't know who they were, honest." Pugsley replied with a scared voice, "it happened so fast,"

"Pugsley, emotion equals weakness, pull yourself together, now," I told him sternly, he whimpers. He really needs to learn this, if he wants to survive the real world. I went to untie him, when I went into one of my visions.

~Line Break~

I came out of the vision, which thanks to it, I now know who did this to my brother. It was Dalton, and his stupid jock friends.

"You okay," Pugsley asked me with a worried tone.

I'm not about to confess to my brother that I've recently been plagued by visions. The come on without warning, and feel like electroshock therapy, but without the satisfying afterburn.

"Leave this to me," I told him, getting up to put my plan into action.

"Wednesday, what are you gonna do," my brother asked me. I stopped to look at him, contemplating telling him, but decided not too.

"What I do best," I told him, then walked off.

Non, rien de rien.

"Yo, Dalton, look," Dalton's friend # 1 said pointing towards me, "Pigsley's sister."

"Hey, freak, this is a closed practice," Dalton told me, with a smirk. Everyone smirked at this and laughed.

"The only person who gets to torture my brother is me," I told everyone with a harsh tone, raising two bags with piranhas in them. Everyone lost their smirks and looked at me with fear. I released the bags into the water, and everyone frantically swam to get to safety.

Non, je ne regrette rien. Car ma vie, car mes joies. Ca commence avec toi.

It was chaotically beautiful, nothing will top this. I slowly smirked in satisfaction. If I wasn't so adversed to it, I would be laughing right now. Though, as I watch the chaos happening, I knew that would be getting expelled for this.

~Line Break~

I close my eyes. Then I drift away.

My parents were singing again, and it greatly disgusts me of how much emotions they are showing.

I softly say. A silent prayer. Like dreamers do. Then I fall asleep to dream. My dreams of you.

I cringed at them, they really need to learn some self-control. This is why I'll never find love/mate. It all seems pointless.

I remember. That you said goodbye.....

"Mmm," my mother sighed happily after kissing my father. My father did the same. I rolled my eyes at them.

"Darling, how long do you intend on giving us the col shoulder," my mother asked me.

"Lurch, please remind my parents that I'm no longer speaking to them," I replied back. Lurch just grunts.

"Hmm," she hums back.

"I promise you, my little viper, you will love Nevermore," my father tried to reassure me, though he was failing, "won't she, Tish?"

"Of course," she said, "it's the perfect school for her."

"Why? Because it was the perfect school for you," I shot back," I have no interest in following in your footsteps. Becoming captain of the fencing team, Queen of the Dark Prom, President of the Seance Society."

"I merely meant that finally you will be among peers who understand you," My mother told me, and then she said something I want to protest against, " maybe you'll even make some friends."

"Nevermore is like no other boarding school, it's a magical place," my father said, "it's where I met your mother, and we fell in love."

"You guys are making me nauseous, and not in a good way," I told them with disgust in my voice, yet with my face blank.

"Darling, we aren't the ones who got you expelled. That boy's family was going to file attempted murder charges," she told me, "how would that have looked on your record?"

"Terrible, everyone would know I failed to get the job done," I said, seething that Dalton is still alive.

"Hmm," my mother just hummed, and that was it for our conversation.

~Line Break~

Narrator's POV

Now we see a truck driving by the Addams hearse.

"Just over here is fine, thanks," a man said to the driver.

"You sure you want to get out here," the driver asked, "the trail might look pretty, but it runs right past Nevermore."

"That school for outcasts," the man asked.

"Huh. That's a polite way of putting it," the driver replied.

"I never had a problem with outcasts," the man informed the driver," my counselor at summer camp was a werewolf. Great guy."

"Yeah, they're just like you and men," the driver said trying to scare the man, "until they rip your throat out."

"Thanks," the man chuckles wryly. He got out of the truck and hiked on the trail. He hiked for a while until he found a good spot to take a break. He was just relaxing, when he heard noises coming up from in front of him. He looked up, only to scream in a panic as he saw something running towards him and attack him.

#wednesday addams x fem!reader #omegaverse #alphawednesdayaddams #omegareader #werewolfreader

10 notes · View notes

hislittleraincloud · 2 months

Text

Enid: sEeeee, i FInaLly gOt heR to cOme tO mE *twitches*

Enid, Morella, and Wednesday 💀🤣🫴🏽😾💕✨

#wenclair #wenclair friendship #wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #morella the cat #satisfying afterburn #jenna ortega #emma myers #lol #chibi art #chibi figure #ai photo #ai art #i wish these existed #my own canon

41 notes · View notes

iamavailablesstuff · 1 year

Text

THE WILD DRAGON

@babyblue-chaos

student laughing]

[heavy footfalls echoing]

[girl] I’m not sure whose twisted idea it was to put hundreds of adolescents in underfunded schools run by people whose dreams were crushed years ago… but I admire the sadism.

[heavy footfalls continue echoing]

[school bell rings]

[jocks guffawing]

[gags, whimpers]

[thud]

I want names luke.

I don’t know who they were, honest.

It happened so fast.

Lukes, emotion equals weakness.

Pull yourself together.

[whimpers]

Now.

[eerie whooshing]

[jocks jeering]

[jock] You scared, kid? Scared?

[jocks laughing]

[locker slams]

[school bell rings]

You okay?

[visenya]I’m not about to confess to my brother that I’ve recently been plagued by visions.

They come on without warning, and feel like electroshock therapy, but without the satisfying afterburn.

Leave this to me.

Videnya?

What are you gonna do?

What I do best.

[“Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” by Édith Piaf playing]

[whistle blows]

♪ Non, rien de rien… ♪

[jock 1] Yo, Dalton, look.

Bastards sister.

Hey, freak.

This is a closed practice.

[jocks chuckle]

The only person who gets to torture my siblings is me.

Visenya put phirana s in to the pool.

♪ Non, rien de rien ♪

[jocks clamor]

♪ Non, je ne regrette rien ♪

♪ Car ma vie, car mes joies ♪

[whistle blowing frantically]

♪ Ça commence avec toi ♪

[shrieks]

[elegant music swells, fades away]

[jauntily macabre theme music playing]

[radio squawks, playing “In Dreams” by Roy Orbison]

♪ I close my eyes ♪

♪ Then I drift away ♪

[passenger singing along] ♪ Into the magic night ♪

♪ I softly say ♪

[both] ♪ A silent prayer ♪

♪ Like dreamers do ♪

♪ Then I fall asleep to dream ♪

♪ My dreams of you ♪

♪ I remember ♪

[bird chirps]

[birds thudding in time to music]

♪ That you said goodbye… ♪

[feeble tweeting]

[both moaning]

[woman] Mmm.

[man sighs]

Darling, how long do you intend on giving us the cold shoulder?

Jace, please remind our parents that I’m no longer speaking to them.

[rhanearya] Hmm.

I promise you, my little dragon, you will love kingslanding.

Won’t she, nyra?

Of course. It’s the perfect for her.

Why? Because it was the perfect for you?

I have no interest in following in your footsteps.

Becoming captain of the fencing team, Queen of the Dark Prom, President of the Séance Society.

I merely meant that finally you will be among peers who understand you.

Maybe you’ll even make some friends.

Kingslanding is were we are raised

It’s a magical place.

[yearning sigh]

You guys are making me nauseous.

Not in a good way.

Darling, we aren’t the ones who got you expelled.

That boy’s family was going to file attempted murder charges.

How would that have looked on your record?

Terrible.

Everyone would know I failed to get the job done.

Hmm.

[gate hinges creak]

[ominous music builds]

[sighs] At least it’s turning into a beautiful day.

[bells tolling]

[thunder rumbling]

[playfully gloomy music playing]

Visenya is certainly a unique name.

Her name comes from a line from my favorite ancestors

You always had a unique perspective on the world, rhanearya

Hmm.

Did your mother tell you we were roommates back in the day?

And you graduated with your sanity intact?

Impressive.

You’ve certainly had a very interesting educational journey.

Eight schools in five years.

They haven’t built one strong enough to hold me.

I bet this place won’t be any different.

What our daughter is trying to say is that she greatly appreciates the opportunitykingslanding doesn’t usually accept students mid-term, but give visenya s perfect grades and your family’s long history with the school, I’ve spoken with the board and we’ve made an exception.

[quirky music playing]

Alicent, what about visenya, um… therapy sessions?

The court ordered them.

Hmm. The school has a relationship with a therapist in fleabottom

She can meet twice a week.

Did you hear that, my little storm cloud?

You’re in excellent hands.

We’ll see if she survives the first session.

I’ve assigned you to your mother’s old dorm.

Ophelia hall

[gasps, chuckles excitedly]

[visenya] Refresh my memory.

Ophelia’s the one who kills herself after being driven mad by her family, correct?

Should we go meet your new roommate?

[rhaenyra' gasps]

It’s so… vivid.

[inhales excitedly] Howdy, roomie.

Visenya, this is Helaena.

Are you feeling okay?

You look a little pale.

Visenya always looks half-dead.

Oh.

Welcome to Ophelia Hall.

Not a hugger. Got it.

Please excuse visenya.

She’s allergic to color.

[Helaena] Oh, wow.

What happens to you?

[flatly] I break out into hives and then the flesh peels off my bones.

Luckily, we’ve special ordered you a uniform. [chuckles]

Helaena, please take visenya to the registrar’s office to pick it up along with her schedule, and give her a tour along the way.

[ominous music playing]

[haunting choral vocalizations]

Kingslanding was founded in 1791 to educate people like us.

Outcasts, freaks, monsters, fill in your favorite marginalized group here.

You can save the sanitized sales pitch.

I don’t plan on staying here for long.

Why not?

This was my parents’ idea.

Oh look, there’s my mother smirking at me.

They’ve been looking for any excuse to send me here.

It’s all a part of their nefarious, yet completely obvious plan.

What plan?

To turn me into a version of themselves.

In that case, perhaps you can clear something up.

Rumor’s been swirling around that you killed a kid at your old school, and your parents pulled strings to get you off.

Actually, it was two kids, but who’s counting?

Welcome to the quad.

It’s a pentagon.

The whole snarky Goth girl thing might have worked at normie school, but here things are different.

Let me give you a wiki on kingslanding social scene.

I’m not interested in participating in tribal adolescent clichés.

Well, then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain.

There are many flavors of outcasts here, but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners and Scales.

Those are the Fangs, AKA vampires.

Some of them have literally been here for decades.

That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, AKA werewolves.

Like me!

[Furs howling]

Full moons get pretty loud around here.

That’s when Furs wolf out.

I suggest you pick up noise-cancelling headphones.

I’m assuming Scales are sirens?

[Enid] You catch on quick.

And that girl, Alys river, is the closest thing kingslanding has to royalty.

[enchanting whooshing]

Although her crown’s been slipping lately.

She used to date our resident tortured artist, Aemond Hightower.

But they broke up at the beginning of the semester.

Reason unknown.

Fascinating.

I know, right?

My vlog is, like, the number one source for kingslanding gossip.

Yo,Helaena You’re not gonna believe the dirt I heard about your new roommate.

She eats human flesh.

Chowed down on that kid she murdered.

You better watch your back.

Quite the contrary.

I actually fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets.

Robb, this is my new roommate, Visenya

Whoa.

You’re in black and white.

Like a living Instagram filter.

Ignore him.

Gorgons spend way too much time getting stoned.

He’s cute, but clueless.

It’s a small school. There wasn’t much online about you.

You should really get on Insta, Snapchat and TikTok.

I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation.

Look at you, my little deathtrap.

Seeing you in this uniform brings back so many terrible memories.

Doesn’t it, nyra?

Yes.

Why don’t you boys wait in the car?

Visenya and I need a moment.

[Jace grunts]

Jace, you’re soft and weak.

You’ll never survive without me. I give you two months, tops.

I’m gonna miss you, too, sis.

Any plans you have of running away end right now.

I’ve alerted all family members to contact me the minute you darken their doorstep.

You have nowhere to go.

As usual, you underestimate me, Mother.

I will escape this educational penitentiary, and you will never hear from me again.

[sighs]

You are a brilliant girl, visenya, but sometimes you get in your own way.

I’m sure you’ll grow to love kingslanding, and find it as life-changing as I did.

Oh, I got you a little something.

Our initials.

It’s made of obsidian, which Aztec priests used to conjure visions.

It’s a symbol of our connection.

Which one of your spirits suggested this toe-curling tchotchke?

I’m not you, Mother.

I will never fall in love, or be a housewife, or have a family.

I’m told girls your age say hurtful things, and I shouldn’t take it to heart.

Fortunately, you don’t have one.

Finally, a kind word for your mother.

Daemon, the crystal ball, please.

We can’t talk to you for the first week while you’re settling in, so we’ll call you next Sunday.

[delicate, emotional music playing]

[car door closes]

Don’t worry, my love.

Our little scorpion won’t be alone.

[undercarriage clattering]

[fingers scuttling]

[thunder booms]

We found a leg by the lake.

Where’s the rest of him?

Well, the torso and arm are over there.

What the hell did you do to my room?

Dividing our room equally.

It looks like a rainbow vomited on your side.

I…

Silence would be appreciated.

This is my writing time.

Your writing time?

I devote an hour a day to my novel.

Perhaps if you did the same, your vlog might be coherent.

I’ve read serial killer diaries with better punctuation.

I write in my voice.

It’s my truth. It’s what my followers love.

Your followers are clearly imbeciles.

They respond to your stories with insipid little pictures.

Uh, you mean, emojis?

It’s how people express their feelings. I realize that’s a foreign concept to you.

When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind.

Rope, shovel, hole.

By the way, there is no 'e' in Targaryen

If you’re going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly.

[music player beeps, playing peppy pop song]

Turn that off.

This is your final warning.

[playfully] Rawr!

Don’t mess with me.

This kitty’s got claws, and I’m not afraid to use them.

[door opens]

Good evening, girls.

Oh, sorry about the mud.

I wanted to make sure that visenya was settling in.

Ah. Is this a bad time?

I’m Ms. Thornhill, your dorm mom.

Apologies, I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived.

I trust Enid has given you the old kingslanding welcome.

She’s been smothering me with hospitality.

I hope to return the favor.

In her sleep.

Well, here’s a little welcome gift from my conservatory.

I try to match the right flower to each of my girls.

When I read your personal statement in your application, I immediately thought of this one.

The black dahlia.

Oh, you know it?

Of course. It’s named after my favorite unsolved murder.

Thank you.

Okey-dokey. Before I leave, I want to go over a few house rules.

Lights off at 10:00, no loud music, and no boys, ever.

What’s the story about going into the local town?

Passes to fleabottom are a privilege, not a right.

It’s a brisk 25-minute walk, or there’s a shuttle on the weekends.

The locals are a tad bit wary about kingslanding, so please don’t go making any waves, or perpetuating any outcast stereotypes.

That means keep your claws to yourself, and no smothering people in their sleep.

Are we clear?

Great talk. [chuckles]

[door opens]

[foils clattering]

[fencer grunts]

Coach, Coach, she tripped me.

It was a clean strike, Rowan.

Maybe if you whined less and practiced more, you wouldn’t suck.

Seriously, Coach, when am I gonna get real competition?

Anyone else want to challenge me?

I do.

[ominous music playing]

Oh, you must be the psychopath they let in.

You must be the self-appointed Queen Bee.

Interesting thing about bees. Pull out their stingers, they drop dead.

[fencers] Ooh!

Rowan doesn’t need you to come to his defense.

He’s not helpless, he’s lazy.

Are we doing this or not?

En garde.

[dramatic music playing]

[both grunting]

[coach] Point to Wednesday.

[both continue grunting]

[coach] The score is even.

That first point was clearly beginner’s luck.

Let’s finish this.

For the final point, I would like to invoke a military challenge.

No masks.

No tips.

[fencers] Ooh.

Winner draws first blood.

[dramatic musical flourish]

It’s your decision, Alys.

Let’s see if you bleed in black and white.

[dramatic music continues]

[rapier tip slices]

[disbelieving exhale]

Your face finally got that splash of color it so desperately needed.

[chuckles]

[Rowan] You’re Visenya, right?

Rowan.

I know how you feel.

I guarantee you don’t.

My mother promised me I’d finally fit in somewhere.

I never thought it was possible to be an outcast in a school full of outcasts.

But it looks like you’re gonna give me a run for my money.

Uh…

Sorry about the… nick.

No good deed goes unpunished.

[quirkily sinister music playing]

[water tank gurgling]

[chilling choir vocalizations]

[stone scraping]

[Aemond] Visenya!

Welcome back.

Just take it easy.

Nurse said you don’t have a concussion, but you probably have a nasty bump, huh?

The last thing I remember I was walking outside feeling a mixture of rage, pity and self-disgust.

I never felt that way before.

Losing to Alys has that effect on people, I think.

Then I looked up and saw that gargoyle coming down and I thought, “At least I’ll have an imaginative death.”

Then you tackled me out of the way.

Why?

[clicks tongue] Call it instinct.

So you were guided by latent chivalry, the tool of the patriarchy, to extract my undying gratitude?

Mm-hmm. Most people just say thank you.

I didn’t want to be rescued.

I shoulda just let that thing smash you to mush?

I would have rather saved myself.

[scoffs] Good to see you haven’t changed.

If makes you feel any better, let’s just say I returned the favor.

Aemond Hightower?

You probably don’t remember me.

Last time we met, I was about two feet shorter, 40 pounds heavier.

What happened?

[exhales] Puberty, I guess.

What happened the last time we met?

Oh. Uh.

Yeah, it… it was my godmother’s funeral.

She was friends with your grandmother, and they spent their twenties in Europe, swindling the rich and notorious.

I don’t know, but we were ten, and we were bored, decided to play hide and seek.

I had the inspired idea to hide in her casket.

I got stuck as it was headed to the crematorium.

I’d heard muffled screams.

I just figured your godmother had cheated death and was trying to claw her way out.

Either way, you hit the big red stop button and saved me from being flame-broiled. So… now we’re even.

[mournful rendition of “La Llorona” playing]

[typewriter keys clacking]

♪ Ay de mí, Llorona ♪

♪ Llorona, tú eres mi chunca ♪

[bed squeaking]

♪ Ay de mí, Llorona ♪

♪ Llorona, tú eres mi chunca… ♪

I knew it!

Hello, Thing.

[bed frame rattling]

Did you think my highly trained olfactory sense wouldn’t pick up on the faint whiff of neroli and bergamot in your favorite hand lotion?

I could do this all day.

[desk trembling]

Surrender?

[tapping frantically]

Mother and Father sent you to spy on me, didn’t they?

I’m not above breaking a few fingers.

That they thought I wouldn’t find out proves how much they underestimate me.

Oh, Thing, you poor, naive appendage.

My parents aren’t worried about me.

They’re evil puppeteers who want to pull my strings even from afar.

The way I see it, you have two options.

Option one.

I lock you in here for the rest of the semester, and you go slowly insane trying to claw your way out, ruining your nails and your smooth, supple skin.

And we both know how vain you are.

Option two.

You pledge your undying loyalty to me.

♪ …que no se apartan de mí… ♪

Our first order of business is to escape this teenage purgatory.

[tapping]

Of course I have a plan.

And it begins now.

[mysterious music playing]

[indistinct chatter]

[Alicent] Dr. Kinbott’s office is on the second floor.

Other Nevermore students swear by her.

You’ll be here until I’m done?

Perhaps afterwards we can visit the Weathervane for hot chocolate.

Principal Alicent, this feeble attempt at bonding is beneath you.

And chauffeuring your students around is below your pay grade.

Given your history, I’m sure you’re intent on running away.

I’m here to prevent that from happening.

I wish you luck.

[door slams]

I read the notes from your school counselor.

Mrs. Bronstein. She had a nervous breakdown after our last session and had to take a six-month sabbatical.

Go ahead and take a seat.

How did you feel about that?

Vindicated.

But someone who crochets for a hobby isn’t a worthy adversary.

Adversary?

I hope we can forge a relationship based on trust and mutual respect.

[scoffs]

This is a safe space, Wednesday.

A sanctuary where we can discuss anything.

What you’re thinking, feeling,

your views on the world, personal philosophy.

That’s easy. I think that this is a waste of time.

I see the world as a place that must be endured, and my personal philosophy is kill or be killed.

So, for instance, when someone bullies your brother, your response is to dump piranha in the pool.

You know the old saying, never bring a knife to a sword fight.

Unless it’s concealed.

Point is, you assaulted a boy, and showed no remorse for your actions.

That’s why you’re here.

He lost a testicle.

I did the world a favor. People like Dalton shouldn’t procreate.

I’ve answered all your questions.

We’re not done yet.

[mysterious notes play]

Therapy is a valuable tool to help you understand yourself.

It can teach you new ways to deal with your emotions.

It can also help you build a life that you want.

I know the life that I want.

Tell me about it.

Everything said in these sessions is strictly confidential.

Do your plans involve becoming an author?

I understand you’ve written three novels about a teen girl detective, Viper De La Muerte.

Can you tell me about her?

Viper is smart, perceptive, chronically misunderstood.

Any luck getting your work published?

Editors are short-sighted, fear-based life forms.

One once described my writing as gratuitously morbid, and suggested I seek psychiatric help.

[Kinbott] Hmm.

Ironic, isn’t it?

How did you take that?

I sent her a “thank you.”

[mischievous music playing]

[screams]

I’ve always been open to constructive criticism.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aegon x you #visenya targaryen

34 notes · View notes