The precinct bathroom was dimly lit, the fluorescent hum the only sound breaking the late-night silence as Jake locked the door behind him and Reyes. Jake's belly churned with the familiar buildup—days of holding back, his gut bloated and heavy from the laxatives he'd popped earlier. He could feel the pressure mounting, a hot coil ready to unleash, but this time, he wasn't alone. Reyes leaned against the sink, eyes dark with hunger, his uniform shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the gleam of sweat on his chest. "Go on, Jake," Reyes murmured, voice low and gravelly, "I wanna see you lose it right here. Fill those pants like the dirty pig you are."
Jake's cock twitched at the words, hardening against his thigh as he stepped into the largest stall, leaving the door cracked open. He didn't bother with the toilet; instead, he turned his back to Reyes, dropping into a low squat right there on the tile floor. His uniform pants stretched tight over his ass, the fabric whispering as he spread his legs wider for balance. The first cramp hit like a fist, twisting his insides, and he grunted, pushing down hard. "That's it, buddy," Reyes encouraged from the doorway, stepping closer, his breath quickening. "Push it out. I bet it's been brewing in you forever—just dump it right into your underwear, make 'em sag with your hot load."
Sweat beaded on Jake's forehead as he bore down, his sphincter clenching then yielding with a wet squelch. A thick spurt of mushy diarrhea erupted into his briefs, the warm sludge splattering against his hole and soaking the cotton instantly. It spread like molten paste, heavy and lumpy, pressing back against his cheeks with a squelch that echoed in the stall. Jake rocked his hips, thighs quivering from the squat, the sensation filthy and freeing all at once. "Fuck yes, look at that bulge forming," Reyes groaned, palming his own growing erection through his pants. "You're shitting yourself like a desperate slut--keep going, flood those pants with every nasty drop. I can smell it already, that ripe, stinking mess you deserve."
Another wave cramped through Jake's gut, forcing a deep "Hrrngh!" from his throat. He pushed harder, feeling the diarrhea gush out in forceful bursts--semi-liquid ropes that piled up in his underwear, the weight pulling at the waistband. Wet farts bubbled through the flow, pllfrrt-splat, sending flecks of soft waste smearing along his ass-crack and dripping towards his balls. The heat built, scalding his sensitive skin, but Reyes' voice spurred him on. "Damn, Jake, you're packing it in there good. Feel that shit hugging your ass? That's what you get for holding it—now unload the rest, make your pants overflow with your filthy diarrhea. I wanna hear it squish when you move."
Jake's hand trembled as he reached back, pressing against the growing mound in his pants, the mush yielding under his fingers with a sticky slurp. His cock throbbed painfully now, leaking pre-cum into his soaked briefs, the mix of waste and arousal making everything slick and obscene. He angled his squat deeper, boots scraping the floor, and bore down again--"Uuungh!"--releasing a torrent that ballooned the seat of his underwear. Chunks of undigested matter caught on his rim, stretching it wide before plopping into the mess in his underwear, the friction sending sparks up his spine. Reyes edged closer, eyes locked on the dark stain spreading down Jake's thighs. "Shit, that's beautiful," he rasped, unzipping his fly to stroke himself openly. "Keep shitting, you nasty fuck—fill 'em till they leak. Imagine walking out like this, your ass reeking of a fresh dump. You're my favorite toilet right now."
The cramps kept coming, relentless, each push met with Reyes' filthy praise. "Yeah, grunt for it--push out those lumpy bits, let 'em coat your hole. You're shitting so good, Jake, like you we're born for this. More, give me more of that sloppy mess." Jake's face flushed red, veins bulging as he strained, the diarrhea now a steady stream that soaked through the fabric, dark patches blooming on the cotton of his brown stained underwear. Gas popped wetly inside the confines of his bulging underwear, the smell thick and pungent, filling the air like a fog. His free hand fumbled with his zipper, pulling out his rigid cock to jerk it roughly, the taboo thrill pushing him closer to the brink.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of grunts and gushes, the last cramps faded. One final, exhaustive push—"Fuuuck!"—and a watery trickle finished it off, the load sagging heavily between Jake's legs. He stayed squatted, panting, the warm weight shifting with every breath, a humiliating yet exhilarating reminder. Reyes stepped right up, hand still working his shaft. "Look at you, pants full of your own shit—perfect. Now stand up slow, let me see how it clings."
That question burned through (Y/n)’s mind ever since she first glimpsed Nanny Rosa’s eyes beneath the brim of her headscarf—that brief moment in the paddock when she helped the boy, her boy, and the older woman whisked him away with a look that said everything and nothing at once.
Because she did know her.
Not from Leo’s infancy, nor from some fleeting encounter in Monaco. No, the thread tied deeper. It led all the way back to childhood, back to summer afternoons and the scent of pomelo peel in the air, to another house in another country, Manila, and to a boy named Caleb Altamiras.
Caleb had been a part of her childhood as much as her brothers had. They had played together, studied under the same private tutors, attended formal balls their families hosted to show off legacies and surnames. From a young age, they had been promised to each other, not out of love, but alliance. The Altamiras name came with old money. The Young name came with power.
It was a neat agreement. Polished. Inevitable.
But the heart rarely walks the path the world lays out for it.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
She was nineteen when everything changed.
It had been a rainy April in London, her second year at the Royal College of Art—her focus then still on jewelry design, a quiet passion nurtured in secret behind the walls of boardrooms and stock valuations.
He was twenty, already in Formula 1, already known, a name murmured across screens and speed headlines.
She hadn’t recognized him at first. He was in the corner of the café, hoodie drawn low, nursing an espresso like it held the answers to the universe.
They’d fought over the last warm croissant.
He offered it to her anyway.
That was how it started.
Casual. Unexpected.
Lando Norris—British, fast, infuriatingly disarming—became the bright interruption in her otherwise planned life. They began to meet between lectures and late-night races. Sometimes he'd fly back just to see her, only to leave again with the taste of her kiss still lingering in the air.
She hadn’t meant to fall in love.
But it was the kind of love that didn’t ask for permission.
The kind that shattered childhood promises.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
Caleb had not taken it well.
He had tried to be polite at first, tried to believe it was a phase, a rebellion, something fleeting and excusable.
But the months passed. The photos spread. The stories leaked.
(Y/n) was smiling with someone else now.
And the boy who had once traced the shape of her name in cursive on his palm turned cold.
When the Young family severed ties with the Altamiras, citing the relationship’s irrelevance to (Y/n)’s future, the Altamiras name, once a close ally, vanished from their circles like a stain scrubbed out.
But anger lingers where silence settles.
And so, Caleb, quietly, over the years, let that rage consume him. He used his inheritance, his access, his charm. He built masks and wore them well.
And when the moment came, when (Y/n) and Lando had their child, and the world celebrated with champagne and headlines, Caleb made his move.
He took what he thought had always belonged to him.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
It was Rosa who had watched it unfold. She had raised Caleb since he was eight—watched the boy grow bitter, possessive, too quiet when he should’ve laughed, too calculating when he should’ve loved. She had tried to stop him that night in Monaco. Screamed. Cried. Threatened.
He had turned on her with eyes like glass.
“You raised me,” he hissed. “Now raise him.”
And so, she had.
For five years, she raised Leo with all the love she could give, all the gentleness she could sneak in between Caleb’s wrath and suspicion. She kept his scars hidden. Tended his bruises when Caleb turned away. Hid the truth until Leo was old enough to feel it.
But now, now that Caleb had begun to slip further into cruelty, Rosa could no longer remain still.
She risked everything.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
The message came at midnight.
“Aquaria KLCC. 3PM. I’ll bring him. Come alone.”
(Y/n) had stared at the screen for minutes before her breathing returned.
Her fingers trembled.
She didn’t ask her brothers. Didn’t alert the team.
This was something she had to do on her own.
By sunrise, she had slipped out of the estate in a modest grey sedan, hair pinned beneath a scarf, sunglasses heavy on her nose. She crossed the border into Malaysia without drawing a single eye. Years of diplomatic privilege had taught her how to disappear when she needed to.
The journey felt endless.
Her hands remained clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white. She played no music. Spoke no words. Her only companion was the hope that bloomed so violently in her chest it hurt to contain.
By the time she reached Kuala Lumpur, the sky was low and humming with heat.
Aquaria KLCC, the vast aquarium beneath the glittering towers, SSSstood like a submerged dream. Children rushed through the entrance. Tourists posed beside plastic sharks. Life buzzed.
And then she saw them.
A small boy, hand in hand with a woman whose back she knew even after so many years.
Nanny Rosa.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
(Y/n) didn’t move too quickly. She kept her distance, heart pounding. Her steps were steady, composed—though her entire soul burned with the urge to run and sweep the boy into her arms.
Rosa turned slightly. Her face had aged, but her eyes, deep and kind and endlessly tired, met hers.
She smiled. Small. Sad.
Then she stepped aside and murmured, “I’ll be waiting outside.”
Just like that, she slipped away.
And (Y/n) was left with the boy.
Her boy.
Leo.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
He was crouched near a tank of jellyfish, pointing at their glow with a kind of awe only children possessed. The light played over his features—high cheekbones, soft curls, and those eyes. Her eyes.
She knelt down beside him.
“Hello again.”
He turned, then stared.
“You…” he whispered. “You’re the lady I bumped into. In Singapore.”
She smiled, lips trembling. “Yes. That was me.”
He blinked at her for a long moment, then gave the softest grin. “You helped me with my hand.”
“Yes,” she said. “It looked like it hurt.”
He held out the same hand— now clean, the skin nearly healed—and she gently took it in hers.
“I still have your handkerchief,” he added. “Nanay said I should keep it.”
(Y/n)’s throat closed. She swallowed hard. “That was sweet of her.”
For a moment, they simply looked at each other. No words. Just the sound of water and muffled footsteps.
Then Leo tilted his head.
“You look like me,” he said.
And she broke.
Not visibly. Not loudly.
But inside, every wall shattered.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
They spent the afternoon walking the winding halls of the aquarium, pausing at every tank, watching the sharks drift by in the long glass tunnel. She bought him snacks. A toy turtle. A novelty fish hat he insisted on wearing sideways. He giggled freely. Spoke endlessly.
He told her he liked drawing.
He hated green beans.
He didn’t understand why his Papa never smiled at him.
At that, (Y/n)’s heart splintered again.
“You know,” she said softly, crouching beside him near the penguin enclosure, “if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always here.”
Leo beamed at her. “You’re nice.”
She laughed gently. “Thank you.”
“You should meet my Nanay,” he added. “She says nice people are rare.”
“I think I already have.”
He blinked, confused, but accepted her hand when she offered it.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
By the end of the day, Rosa returned.
She didn’t speak at first. Only looked at (Y/n), eyes glistening.
Then quietly, she said, “He’s starting to remember.”
(Y/n) nodded.
They exchanged a long look—heavy with gratitude, regret, and something deeper.
And when Rosa walked Leo back toward the car, the boy turned, waving enthusiastically at (Y/n).
📝 Note from the Author:
Hello, my dear Alarwynnites!
So… how are we feeling after that chapter? HAHAHAHAHA
Because personally, I am not okay. Ehhhh, not really HAHAHAHA
Leo spent five years unknowingly missing his real family, Rosa has been carrying the most heartbreaking secret imaginable, and (Y/n) nearly got taken out by a six-year-old casually saying, "You look like me." Like EXCUSE ME??? SIR??? ~(>_<。)＼
Also, can we please talk about Rosa for a second? Everyone say thank you, Rosa. Everyone give Rosa a hug. Everyone buy Rosa flowers. Because this woman has been doing the Lord's work for FIVE YEARS while Caleb has been busy collecting red flags like Pokémon cards. 💀
And Caleb… My guy really saw a happy family and said, "I think I'll make that everyone's problem."
Therapy was free compared to whatever this was.
But honestly, my favorite part of this chapter is that despite everything, Leo's heart is still so kind. He doesn't know the truth yet. He doesn't understand why meeting (Y/n) feels different. He just knows she makes him feel safe.
And if that doesn't hurt your feelings, I don't know what will.
Thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, commenting, screaming, crying, throwing your phones across the room, and joining me on this emotional roller coaster. Every interaction means the world to me ヾ(≧▽≦*)o(≧∇≦)ﾉ(/≧▽≦)/
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go continue writing a story that is somehow becoming more painful with every chapter.
Hi! I'm MarCoral, but you can call me Coral or just Mar, and this blog is where i post my art and small side-stories of my fanfic over at ao3! my main is @mar-coral
-You can ask me anything about the story and characters! i might answer with a drawing, text post, or a extra scene just for you!
Tags!
Asks will be under #ask 🐸
My art will be under #Speedrun art and #Doodles
Stories will be under #main's side-story
Chapters will be under #main story
You might also see the tag #chapter [number] for easy archiving and placing side stories into the main one (ei. #chapter1 for things related to chap 1, headcanons, scenes off-screen, etc)
You'll also find the tag #Mar's yapping for my yapping
O tempo passou com a lentidão cruel dos dias que carregam silêncio entre palavras não ditas.
Desde aquela última noite, desde a discussão, desde o tom rouco de Negan cuspindo mágoa com controle cirúrgico, tudo em mim parecia suspenso, como um cigarro esquecido no cinzeiro ainda queimando lentamente, sem pressa de apagar.
Ele não me procurou. E eu também não procurei. Mas quase todos os dias, em algum momento entre o nascer do sol e o som abafado dos passos no corredor da delegacia, meus olhos percorriam sem querer o horizonte. Às vezes pegava caminhos mais longos, às vezes desviava do previsto. Só pra passar em frente à Sanctuary Motors. Só pra ver se ele estava lá. E ele sempre estava, sujo de graxa, sujo de mundo, limpo demais de mim.
Negan tinha virado ausência. Uma ausência barulhenta.
A viatura continuava dando problema, como se o próprio carro soubesse o que nos conectava. Mas, depois da última briga, Negan recusou qualquer serviço que envolvesse diretamente o meu nome. Quando eu mandava recado, ele fingia que não escutava, quando o carro era levado por outro policial, ele aceitava, fazia o reparo, enviava de volta, mas nunca com uma mensagem, nunca com uma nota. Nem mesmo um recibo assinado.
Eu merecia. Talvez.
Mas aquilo me corroía mais do que eu admitia. Até que o caso surgiu.
Uma caminhonete azul foi encontrada abandonada no limite sul da cidade, na borda do matagal onde o asfalto vira pó. O cheiro foi o primeiro alerta. Depois, o que vimos dentro da carroceria: um corpo jogado entre lonas plásticas e panos sujos. Nenhuma identificação, nada nos bolsos. Apenas vestígios de ferrugem sob as unhas, marcas no braço, graxa escura nas solas do tênis. E a única pista: o veículo havia passado dias antes na oficina de Negan para troca de óleo.
Eu li o registro uma, duas vezes. O nome da oficina, carimbado com tinta quase desbotada, me deu um calafrio estranho. Não era só o nome, era o retorno de algo que eu estava tentando enterrar com o tempo. Fiquei parado por minutos com o papel nas mãos, depois me levantei. O caminho até a Sanctuary foi mais longo do que o habitual e mais curto do que eu desejava.
A oficina estava aberta, como sempre. Portas metálicas erguidas, um rádio velho chiando uma música sem melodia definida, e o cheiro conhecido de óleo, poeira, e umidade. Ele estava de costas, abaixado sob o capô de um carro escuro, suado, com a camisa colada nas costas e sozinho, pela primeira vez estavamos sozinho em seu território, mas não me viu, ou fingiu não ver.
— Negan. — Minha voz saiu mais firme do que minha vontade. E nada. — Preciso falar com você. — Ele não levantou. Apenas deixou o silêncio crescer. Mais uns segundos e puxou o pano do bolso, limpando as mãos devagar, como se o gesto fosse um ritual e quando se virou, seus olhos eram puro aço.
— Tem alguém morto, é isso? — Direto. Sem rodeios. Ele sabia.
— Sim. — respondi, tentando não ceder ao peso daquele olhar. — E o veículo passou por aqui. Precisamos conversar. —
— "Precisamos". — ele repetiu, o gosto da palavra escorrendo com ironia. — Agora você fala "precisamos"? —
— Isso é uma investigação. — reforcei. — Eu sou o xerife. —
Ele se aproximou, andando devagar, o olhar cravado no meu como um aviso e quando parou, ficou a poucos centímetros. O calor do ambiente parecia se dobrar ao redor dele.
— Então seja xerife. Faça o que precisa. Me interroga, me revira, me acusa. Mas não vem aqui fingir que ainda tem direito de entrar nesse lugar como se fosse bem-vindo. —
Aquilo doeu e talvez porque fosse verdade. — Eu nunca te acusei de nada. —
— Não precisou. Sua ausência fez isso por você. — Ficamos em silêncio. Um trovão retumbou ao longe. O cheiro de chuva se aproximava como prenúncio.
Negan voltou a andar, como se já tivesse encerrado o diálogo. Pegou uma caixa de ferramentas, passou por mim e sumiu na parte dos fundos. Não me mandou embora, mas também não me impediu de ficar.
E eu fiquei.
A chuva caiu de repente, forte, molhando o chão de terra em segundos. Os pneus dos carros no pátio afundavam devagar, formando marcas. A camisa dele grudava no corpo como segunda pele quando voltou, e pela primeira vez em semanas, nossos olhos se cruzaram com algo além da raiva.
Era desejo, frustração, medo.
Era tudo o que a gente evitava nomear.
— Vai embora, Rick. — ele disse, sem elevar a voz.
— Eu não vim aqui por mim. — Na verdade eu nem sabia se isso era verdade.— Não minta pra mim. Nem pra você. — ele continuava a responder com calma e frieza.
Fechei os olhos por um instante. A água escorria pelo telhado, batendo em ritmos irregulares e eu ainda estava ali, parado, sujo de dúvidas, mais molhado por dentro do que por fora.
E pela primeira vez em muito tempo, eu não sabia o que fazer a seguir.
— Eu só quero entender o que está acontecendo. — soltei, tentando encontrar alguma firmeza na voz. — Com o caso. Com você. Comigo. —
— Esse é o problema. — ele rebateu, enfim se aproximando mais. — Você quer entender, mas não quer sentir. Quer encaixar tudo na lógica de xerife, na moral do seu mundinho limpo. Mas isso aqui... — ele apontou entre nós dois — isso aqui nunca foi limpo. —
— Eu não tô aqui pra negar o que aconteceu.
— Mas negou. Por semanas. — O tom dele se elevou, ainda controlado, mas afiado. — Fingiu que não existiu. Que eu não existia. Que aquele toque foi só um erro de cálculo. —
— Eu não sei lidar com isso, Negan. — E você acha que eu sei? — O trovão trovejou mais perto agora. O chão sob nossos pés parecia vibrar. Eu já não sabia mais se estava ali como policial, como homem... ou como o garoto perdido que ainda morava em algum lugar dentro de mim.
— Eu não queria te machucar. — Eu falava com sinceridade.— E machucou mesmo assim.— Você acha que isso é fácil pra mim? Que eu tô jogando? Que tudo isso é um jogo?
— Não é um jogo. — ele disse, mais baixo, mas com mais raiva. — É a minha vida. E eu não sou teu experimento emocional. —
— Então me diz o que fazer.— Não sou eu quem tem que dizer, Rick. É você quem tem que decidir se vai continuar fugindo ou se vai finalmente parar de mentir pra si mesmo.
Havia algo nos olhos dele, algo entre frustração e dor, entre desejo e defesa. Eu dei um passo. Ele não recuou. O som da chuva agora batia nos carros do pátio como uma marcha crescente. Nossas roupas estavam coladas à pele, nossos pés sujos de lama.
O ar entre nós ficou denso. Quente. A respiração dele batia na minha boca. A minha encostava no queixo dele. Se eu estendesse a mão, tocaria seu rosto. Se ele se inclinasse um centímetro, nossos narizes se encostariam.
Mas ninguém se moveu.
— Eu não sou um caso, Rick. — ele disse, a voz falhando só no final. — E você não é só o xerife. Mas se continuar fingindo que é, eu prometo... eu prometo que da próxima vez, eu não vou nem abrir essa porta. —
Ficamos ali. Quase nos tocando. Quase dizendo.
E então ele se virou. Sem pressa. Sem mais palavras.
His fingers went over the scars on her skin, his touch soft and gentle. She didn’t like the way her body leaned into his touch a little, as if she liked it.
“What are you doing?” Y/n asked Ao’nung. His eyes left her skin and looked up into hers. He does that face she hates, that dumb one with his dumb smirk.
“You know scars like these take years to fade. You’ll probably still have them by the time you’ve had kids. That is if there is any man unfortunate enough to have you as his wife.”
Y/n wanted to throw another shell at him so bad right now. It was a week ago when she had both her brothers came out of the sea with fish bites, though it seemed Y/n got the most out of the three. Now most of the bites had healed but left behind scars. She already had scars from previous fish bites so now it seems as if her whole body is littered with them.
“Shut up.” She stood up from her spot on the sand, dusting herself off.
“Am I lying though?” There was a small laugh in his tone as he got up as well.
“Go annoy someone else, I don’t have time for you.” She scowled, walking in the direction back to her marui but he kept taunting her, teasing her. How is she supposed to not punch him? Her patience wore thin and she then shoved him away from her, making him stumble back and fall down.
“Vonvä’” She mumbles and continues walking away.
Ao’nung blinks away the shock from his fall and glares at the forest girl’s back as she walks away from him. Sure, he was being a jerk to her, he knows but he believes his actions are justified, sort of.
Ever since that forest family came to stay, his life has been nothing but hell. Y/n and her family have made a rather good impression on the clan already despite what they themselves might think. Ao’nung hears what his friends and the other kids say about them, at first it was words that made fun of the forest kids, which was perfect, it still had everyone looking up to him and looking down on them or rather her. However, she was a quick learner, she can ride an Ilu, weave baskets, braid hair, make accessories with what the sea provides, make healing pastes. In other words, she was perfect. It was as if everything was second nature to her.
He heard others start to talk differently about them. Even during family meal times, he would have to endure his parents and Tsireya praising the forest family. Praising her. He hates it. He has had dreams where she is standing before him, everyone praising her and looking down on him. He’d die before it ever comes to that in real life. She is a forest person and she has no business here with the sea.
Oh Ewya she annoyed his very being, the corners of his mouth turned up to let out a snarl as he watched her dark blue figure enter her Mauri. He got up and walked the other way, he was pissed. So pissed at her, and her family, and his father and at himself.
“Ao’nung!” He heard someone call out to him. He looked over at it was his friend.
“What.” He was irritated already, if his friend decides to be annoying he’ll actually-
“You got to check this forest girl out, she’s actually lost it.”
What-
Now ao’nung was interested. He followed his friend who led him back to the direction of the forest family’s mauri, just below was very shallow water where a forest girl was laying on her stomach, head in the water.
‘Is that y/n?’ Ao’nung thought as he watched from afar. His other friends were watching her, laughing quietly amongst themselves. When ao’nung approached them, they made space for him to stand in the middle of the group, a clear view of a dark blue girl minding her own business.
Ao’nung smirked.
“Let’s go closer” he said, his friends let out a few excited words, laughing quietly again, following ao’nung as he walked closer and closer to Y/n.
He was going to get back at her.
“She’s just looking at the sand”
Wait…
“Ahahaha”
Wait no that’s not-
“Huh?” The forest girl lifted her head and ao’nung had to hold in his shock when he saw that it wasn’t Y/n but her sister, Titi. No.. Piri? Oh he can’t remember.
“What you’d say?” She shook the water off her face and stood up. Ao’nung can’t back down now though.. not when his friends are watching. He really did think it was Y/n so he was fine with teasing and annoying her. But it isn’t y/n. It’s her sister.
So what? They’re both the same. Both are forest aliens.
“Are you some kind of freak?” Ao’nung asked.
“He asked if you are a freak.” His friend clarified.
Y/N’s sister sighed and shook her head. “No.” She began walking away but ao’nung and his friends followed her.
“Are you sure? I mean, you’re not even real Na’vi.” Ao’nung smirked, walking around her. When she didn’t say anything, he tried provoking her further. “Look at this hands.” He tried grabbing her hand but she pulled it away.
So he went to grab them again.
“I mean look at them” he emphasises.
“HEY!”
Ao’nung and his friends turned around at the voice. It was Y/N’s younger brother, noah. No. It began with L right?
“Back off fish lips.”
Whatever, his name is irrelevant anyway.
“Oh~ another four fingered freak!” Ao’nung laughed, the smaller forest boy may have came acting like the hero but he was greatly outnumbered, ao’nung and his friends began to tease and taunt him.
“Leave us alone!” Piri or titi, whatever her name is shouted. But her voice was ignored. Ao’nung kept laughing.
Yes. This is it. Make everyone look down on them so they can look up at him. This is how it should be. This is perfect.
Ao’nung felt a hard hand grab his shoulder and force him to turn around. It was neteyam. His friends and lo’ak stopped squabbling. Ao’nung glared silently at the older boy.
“You heard what she said.” Neteyam’s voice was alarmingly calm. “Leave them alone”
“Aww~ big brother coming-“ ao’nung’s friend spoke up, his voice taunting but ao’nung stopped him for speaking any further. He hated the sully’s that’s true. But he isn’t a fool. He knew it would be unwise to start a fight with the eldest son of the sully’s.
“Back off.” Neteyam let out his last word through his teeth. “Now.”
Ao’nung smirked and put his hands up, mimicking surrender.
Neteyam kept his eyes on ao’nung as he spoke again. “Smart choice.” He looked at his friends. “And from now on, I need you to respect my sister. Both my sisters.”
Ao’nung said nothing but kept glaring. That dumb friend let out a hiss as if still wanting to fight, ao’nung held him back with a single hand.
“Let’s go.” Neteyam took his two siblings and walked away.
—-
Y/n had been sent out by her father to go catch fish, enough for dinner to feed the whole family. She was only allowed to hunt by the shore line so she was limited with how many fish she could hunt.
By the time she came back, 10 fishes in her large pouch and a few fruits she found, she was confused when she couldn’t find her dad.
“Dad?” She called out in the empty mauri, putting her bag down to the side. She was about to go and look outside the marui pod when she heard footsteps nearby, her dad’s footsteps. She turned around and within seconds Jake came in with her brothers.
She gasped at the sight of them.
Both had looked like they were beaten up, neteyam sporting a busted lip, lo’ak’s skin having patches of dark red, irritated skin that will bruise over night.
“What happened?” She muttered as she walked over to them.
“What was the one thing I asked? One thing.” Jake ignored Y/N’s question, his mind too busy buzzing around with the thought of his idiotic sons.
“Stay out of trouble.” Both boys whispered. Y/n inspected both her brothers, she went to lo’ak first, holding his chin and making him look at her so she she could see his injuries closer. His nose was bleeding. Lo’ak shook her off.
“It was my fault.” Neteyam stepped forward.
“I don’t think so. You got to stop taking the heat for this knuckle head” Jake glared at his youngest son.
Y/n moved over to Neteyam, too shocked and worried to even remember that she and him had argued and had not spoken to each other for days.
“Ao’nung was picking on Kiri, called her a freak.” Lo’ak explained himself, Jake sucked in air through his teeth, looking away.
“He did what?!?” Y/n is was mid inspecting Neteyam’s injuries when she turned her head sharply to look at lo’ak when she heard what happened. “He called her what??” She need to hear lo’ak say it again. She was gonna fuck that sea Bitch up.
“Go apologise to Ao’nung.” Jake spoke softly.
“What.” Both lo’ak and Y/n spoke. Clearly ao’nung is in fault, why should lo’ak apologise.
“He’s the chief’s son. Do you understand.” Y/n looked at her father in disbelief. Neteyam held onto her arm to stop her from going out to find ao’nung herself.
“Just go. I don’t care how you do it, just go make peace.” Jake sighed and lo’ak went out to go find Ao’nung.
“Socks, you will stay put.” Jake warned her.
“Whaaat???”
Neteyam’s hold on her hand tightened.
“Let lo’ak do it himself. You stay here in the marui. Patch neteyam up or something.” Jake then left after giving her a final warning.
Once her father left she looked at neteyam in disbelief.
“Did you hear what I heard?” She asked him.
“Socks..”
“Dad is unbelievable.” She moved to go through a few small pots in the corner.
“Y/n listen-“
“That dumb overgrown fish decided to flap his tiny flippers at you and Lo’ak and it’s your fault?” She pulled neteyam down to sit next to her.
“I said listen-“
“Why should lo’ak apologise? It’s that son of a bit-“
“Y/n!” Neteyam held her shoulder and pushed to make her torso turn and face him. She stopped talking at looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears that barely clung to her waterline.
“It’s not fair.” Her voice came out quieter than before. She looked down and picked up a clean rag and dampened it in a bowl of water.
“Y/n, dad knew it isn’t our fault.” Neteyam spoke softly. This probably is the first real conversation they have had since their argument. Before it was just small words and quick replies, most of the time they would avoid and ignore each other.
“Then why did he go and say all that?” She tried blinking away tears as she cleaned off dry blood on his face.
“He had to. He’s doing what he can to help our family fit in here.” Neteyam watched as his sister held in her tears. He moved a hand to hold her face.
“Y/n, sister, why are you crying?”
Her hand trembled as she continued cleaning his cuts.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Neteyam I’m-“
“You said it.”
She looked up at him, confused.
“What?”
He smiled softly.
“You said my name. It’s been a while since I heard you say it.”
She continued to look at him confused as he grinned stupidly at her. Her bottom lip wobbled and she smacked his shoulder.
“Ow!” He flinched back, rubbing his shoulder and lifting his eyes to glare at his sister but his eyes softened immediately when he saw a stream of tears running down her face. “Socks..” he moved closer to her, holding her in his arms even though he was still sore from the fight.
She cried for a while before calming down, her sobs reduced so small hiccups.
“What’s wrong? Are you crying because me and Lo’ak got hurt?” Neteyam asked.
“I’m never there.”
Now neteyam looked at her confused.
“What? Where do you need to be?”
“With you! With Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk! I’m never there when I need to be.” Her voice wavered and neteyam brushed away her tears. “Even back when we are in the forest. I wasn’t there when… when you four were attacked by those human na’vi. I wasn’t there today when something as bad as a whole physical fight broke out. I know I’m not as reliable as you but I still want to be the big sister and protect you all…”
Neteyam closed his eyes and held his sister’s hands.
“Socks.. no.. Y/n, you do know that the younger three look up to you as much as they look up to me, right? If not then more.”
Y/n let out a small hiccup and looked up at him. Neteyam continued.
“We are twins, sister. You and me. However that does not mean we must compare ourselves to every little thing. You are Y/N. You are socks. You are the first daughter of Toruk makto. You protected our siblings from ao’nung before I even stepped in and did anything. You hit him with that shell remember? You protected Tuk and all I did was shout at you for it.”
Y/n felt her eyes water again, Neteyam kept holding her hands.
“I am sorry. I got too caught up in trying to do everything in a strategic way, my way, that I forgot to understand your way. I even refused to understand where you were coming from. You are amazing Y/n and I’m sorry I got too blind to see it.”
Neteyam looked into her eyes. Her eyes that were the exact same as his. Same shape, size and colour. He looked at her. He looked at his sister, his twin sister, his other half.
“I see you, sister.” He whispered.
Y/n chocked back on a sob and blinked away tears. She hated arguing with neteyam the most out of all of her siblings because it hurts the most. They hadn’t even spoken or looked at each other properly since their argument and it took neteyam getting physically hurt for her to talk to him again.
“I see you, brother.” She whispered back. Her arms wrapping around his body as she hugged him. He hugged her back and they stayed like that for a while.
“So how badly did you beat up ao’nung?” She asked, pulling away from him.
Neteyam chuckled.
“Well he is the cheif’s son, so I didn’t hurt him too bad but his friends however…” he trailed off but Y/n knew what he meant.
She lightly smacked him this time.
“Those poor boys. They probably don’t even know what a punch was, much less the types of punches. You should have gone easy on them.” She teased.
“I did go easy on them!”
She laughed. “Yeah right. You probably gave it your all, I know you weren’t holding back.”
“No socks, believe me, I was still holding my true strength in. I was holding my mighty warrior strength back.”
She laughed even more while going back to tending to his cuts and bruises.
After she was done patching neteyam up she was about to put all the healing paste and blood stained cloths away before she remembered she has another beaten up brother. She looked out of the marui and saw it was late already, the light of the day was gone and now stars littered the sky.
Y/n looked back at Neteyam.
“Lo’ak should be back by now, right? I was going to help him with that bloody nose of his.” She sighed.
Neteyam got up. “I’ll go get him, you should probably make more paste, he has bruises on his legs everywhere.”
Y/n nodded and went further in to the marui pod while neteyam went out, his steps calm as he went. Time passed and Neytiri came in with Tuk, chopping up the fish Y/n had caught earlier, however Neteyam still didn’t arrive.
Being a little worried that perhaps another fight broke out, and if that was the case then Y/n would not hesitate to jump in and fight as well, so she was about to head out of the mauri pod when she saw her father and Kiri talking.
“Mighty..” she heard Kiri say. What was mighty?
Just then Y/n heard footsteps and turned her head to see who it was. It was Neteyam and Ao’nung. Y/n couldn’t help the disgusted look on her face when her eyes landed on the sea boy. Why is he here?
Neteyam pulled Ao’nung over to Jake.
“Tell him. Tell him what you told me!” Neteyam’s voice wasn’t calm like it always was, no this time Y/n could hear the pure fear in his voice.
As she heard Ao’nung talk, she quickly understood why. Each word made her heart drop.
It was a quiet night on the beach, the gentle lapping of waves against the shore offering a soothing rhythm to Blaire's troubled thoughts. She sat down in the cool sand, staring out at the dark expanse of the ocean. The events of the day replayed in her mind like scenes from a chaotic play.
The sinking of the Dark Core oil rig weighed heavily on her conscience. It was a necessary action, she knew, but the consequences were still unsettling. The smoke lingering in the air served as a constant reminder of the risks they had taken.
As she gazed up at the stars, Blaire wondered about Sabine. Where was she now, and what role did she truly play in Dark Core's plans? Despite the doubts and warnings from her friends, Blaire couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Sabine than met the eye. Could she really trust her?
A sigh escaped Blaire's lips as she ran a hand through her hair, feeling the cool night breeze against her skin. She felt a sense of isolation, even amidst the beauty of the beach and the tranquil night. The weight of responsibility as a Soul Rider pressed down on her shoulders, reminding her of the countless challenges still ahead.
Lost in her thoughts, Blaire remained on the beach, silently contemplating the uncertain future that lay before them.
Sabine crawled herself out of the ocean, coughing and holding onto Khan's reins tightly, as she leaped onto the sand of moorland beach.
Blaire snapped out of her trance, “Sabine? Oh my god!”
Sabine coughed, struggling to sit up despite her injuries, her braid long gone,her hair falling around her face, her amber eyes almost glowing as she looked up at Blaire.. Her voice was hoarse but filled with venom. "You. What the hell happened? That explosion—was that what you're doing, Soul Rider?"
Blaire approached cautiously, her concern mingling with guilt. "We had to stop Jay and Katja. It was a last resort, Sabine."
Sabine sneered, her eyes narrowing. "Typical. Always thinking you're the saviors of Jorvik. You just made things worse."
"We had no choice," Blaire insisted, kneeling beside Sabine. "We couldn't let Jay and Katja continue their plans."
Sabine gritted her teeth, wincing in pain. "You think you know everything. But you've just unleashed chaos. We are this close to war now!" Sabine said hoarsely.
“ you know we wouldn’t have done it if we didn’t have to! They were gonna blow up hollow woods and Valedale!”
Blaire shook her head, her voice firm. "War was already looming. We had to act."
Sabine scoffed, her breath ragged. "Act? You've jeopardized everything! Do you even understand what Dark Core is capable of?"
"I understand more than you think," Blaire replied, her tone steady. "We're trying to save Jorvik, just like you."
Sabine's eyes narrowed. "Save Jorvik? By destroying everything in our path?"
"It wasn't about destruction," Blaire countered. "It was about stopping Dark Core before it's too late."
Sabine turned away, her jaw clenched in frustration. "You don't get it, Blaire. You never have."
"And you've never trusted anyone but yourself," Blaire shot back, her patience wearing thin. "Maybe if we worked together—"
Sabine cut her off with a bitter laugh. "Work together? With you? That's never going to happen. Especially not now. I was debating it, with the whole prophecy thing, but… we're too different." She slowly moved onto her back, releasing Khan's reins.
Blaire hesitated, her concern evident. "Sabine, I'm sorry, but it was a last resort. Come on. Can I at least help you out? You look very hurt."
Sabine took a slow, deep breath, blinking against the pain. "No."
"Come on," Blaire urged gently, kneeling beside her. "Let me make it up to you."
Sabine's gaze hardened, her voice tinged with bitterness. "You've made your choice, Blaire. Just leave me alone."
Blaire sighed, feeling the weight of their strained history between them. "Fine. But if you change your mind…"
Sabine didn't respond, her attention turning back to the distant horizon. Blaire stood up reluctantly, glancing back once more before turning away. The sound of the waves filled the silence between them as she walked back towards the stables, her thoughts heavy with regret and uncertainty.
