…jabbers high off his mind, out freaking you— in midst of what was supposed to be a training session soon turns into a fuck session…art credits [kurtiness on tumblr]
“Hmm…hehe— we should—uh…let’s fuckkk” eyes lolling back as he mindlessly giggled into your neck, cheeks stained red from takin hits, a pout then a sniffle “still hurts y’knowwww— freak.—shit.”
You thought a harsh kick to the stomach would bring the bumbling fool back, but all you got in return were muffled giggles “fuckkk.. I’m so hard righttt now… wanna do it?”
again with the requests, this wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. The same thing as always. He’d ask to train, ask for a fight, n it’d always end up with you on top of him, his fucked up face stuffed into the dirt.
Sitting on top of him, you could tell he wasn’t exactly..lying. “shit— you’re so fucking weird” your attempts at swiftly getting up were halted as he wrapped his legs around you, the sides of his torn up thighs encasing you,
hips jerkin up to you, or atleast— trying to, in his tired state n with your whole weight on him it was harder then usual-
‘SLAP’
“Mhm-“ a harsh jerk of his neck, his eyes flashing with surprise he grabbed your wrist, the hand that marked his cheek, you were fed up with his antics, his face stayed pressed against the dirt as his hazy eyes stared into yours his teeth bitting into his lips “harder.”
”you’re fuckin crazy.” Anger had your hands wrapped around his neck, his breath hitching as he threw his head back “fuucckkkk” a chocked out sound.
hand digging into the dirt as the one on your wrist pressed into your flesh. Fingers digging into your skin.
“You like this dontcha’ fuckin whore.” His hips pushed up trying to find some friction but with his head in the clouds and you already having done a number on him it was an effort that remained unreciprocated.
“hmm.. yeahhh— fuckkk”
his eyes rolled back as droll seeped down the sides of his mouth opening and closing like a fish, desperate for air. Blood seeped down your hands as his fingers continued digging into them, your flesh buried under his nails
Your fingers tightened against his neck, veins popping, those incoherent mumbling of his came to a stop, jaw slack, his fingers stilled their digging— did he just cum??? Looking down, there was a large wet spot on his pants, slimy globs of cum seeped through his pants and stuck to you. “Fucking disgusting.”
slapping his face to the other side, all he could do was giggle, childlike giggles muffled by the hands on his throat he gasped for air. With one final squeeze you let him go, watching as he gasped for air, chest rising up and down erratically, deep red hand prints were left on his neck already bruising.
The hand that had buried itself in the dirt now waved around in search of something to grab onto, so you relented, grabbing his distressed hand, letting your fingers intertwine, with a sting you freed your other hand away from his grip, your blood stained hands went up to his face. Wiping away the tears that had welled up,
he nudged for you to come closer, apprehensively lowering your head all for him to whisper “admit it, you’re just as much a freak as me” then followed by those stupid fucking giggles of his.
you should’ve just chocked him to death— maybe next time…?
A/n: I love this Rock and this movie, also Ryan Gosling is still fucking fine.
The first time Rocky decided you and Ryland Grace were a “mating pair,” it wasn’t said gently, or privately, or even at an appropriate moment. It was said with the same blunt certainty he used when announcing atmospheric incompatibility or structural integrity issues....like it was simply a fact of the universe that had finally finished loading.
It happened while the three of you were working in the lab, the quiet hum of systems filling the space as Ryland muttered half-coherent explanations under his breath and you leaned over the console beside him, checking calculations. You were close—closer than necessary, really but neither of you had commented on it. Ryland had just stiffened slightly, hyper-aware, the way he always did when you were within reach, while you pretended not to notice how his voice dipped or how he kept glancing at you like he needed to make sure you were still there.
Rocky, of course, noticed everything.
“You are mating pair,” he said abruptly over the comms.
Ryland blinked. “I’m sorry....what?”
“You and female human,” Rocky continued, completely unbothered. “You are mating pair. This is obvious.”
You froze mid-motion, very slowly turning your head toward Ryland, who looked like his soul had just tried to exit his body without permission.
“That is not!! we are not!!? that’s not—” Ryland’s voice cracked, and he dragged a hand down his face, already spiraling. “Rocky, you can’t just—there are… there are steps, okay? There’s a whole process—”
“Yes,” Rocky said. “I have observed process. You are failing at it.”
You bit your lip, trying and failing not to laugh.
Ryland shot you a betrayed look. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I’m not encouraging him,” you said, though your smile said otherwise. “I’m just… curious how he came to that conclusion.”
Rocky didn’t hesitate. “You maintain close proximity beyond efficiency requirements. Heart rate increases when interacting. Vocal tones soften. You prioritize each other’s safety above mission parameters.”
Ryland made a strangled noise. “That is just basic human decency!”
“No,” Rocky replied immediately. “This is different.”
The silence that followed was heavier than anything before it, stretching just long enough to make everything feel… too real.
Ryland cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at you. “Okay, well, even if....hypothetically, that were true, you don’t just say that out loud.”
“Why not?” Rocky asked.
“Because it’s—” Ryland gestured vaguely between the two of you, flustered beyond belief. “It’s complicated.”
Rocky paused, processing.
Then, very simply, “It is not complicated. You are mating pair. You should proceed.”
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Wow. Straight to the point, huh?”
Ryland groaned, dragging both hands over his face now. “I am begging you, please ignore him.”
But the problem was… you couldn’t.
Because once it had been said, it didn’t just disappear. It lingered, hanging between you, coloring every glance, every accidental brush of hands, every moment that suddenly felt a little too intentional.
And Rocky? Rocky only got worse.....because of course he did.
Over the next few days, he began adjusting things.
Assignments that used to be split were suddenly shared. Tight workspaces that could have fit one person comfortably now somehow required both of you. Doors malfunctioned at very convenient times, trapping you together for just a little longer than necessary.
“Rocky,” Ryland said one day, voice tight as the door behind you refused to open, “why are we locked in here?”
“System delay,” Rocky replied.
You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “Really.”
“Yes,” Rocky said. Then, after a beat, “Also, you should use time for bonding.”
Ryland smacked his forehead against the wall with a soft thunk. “I’m going to die out here. Not from space. From embarrassment.”
You laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained in a way that made Ryland peek at you despite himself. And for a second, just a second he forgot to be mortified.
“You know,” you said, softer now, stepping a little closer without thinking, “he’s not entirely wrong.”
Ryland stilled.
“About the… proximity thing,” you added quickly, though your voice didn’t quite match the casualness you were aiming for. “We do tend to end up together a lot.”
“That’s because he puts us together,” Ryland said immediately, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Mm,” you hummed, tilting your head slightly. “Sure.”
There was a pause then, quieter than the others, charged in a way neither of you quite knew how to handle.
Ryland swallowed, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I mean, if it were… I mean, hypothetically—”
“Hypothetically,” you echoed, smiling just a little.
“I wouldn’t....hate it,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.
And there it was.
Not a grand confession. Not smooth or practiced. Just Ryland, honest, a little nervous, completely real.
Your expression softened, something warm settling in your chest as you stepped just a fraction closer, close enough that his breath hitched.
“Good,” you murmured.
Before he could respond, the door slid open with a cheerful hiss.
“Bonding progress detected,” Rocky announced immediately.
Ryland made a sound of pure despair, dropping his head back. “Rocky, I swear to God—”
“You are welcome,” Rocky said.
And somewhere between the embarrassment, the laughter, and the way your hand brushed Ryland’s as you both stepped out of the room, neither of you pulling away this time, because it became painfully, wonderfully clear that maybe…
Something, something, Simon gets married but takes his wife's last name. Something
I mean it's pretty simple to him
His wife didn't want to change her last name. He wanted them to share a last name. He took her last name. Now he's Simon (Last Name). Funnier if this is how the 141 finds out he got married
It was a mistake. Price was going over some papers when he noticed it, Simon's last name was changed, he found it weird, but maybe it waa just a simple slip up, so he just adjusted it and kept working normally.
Then, a few week later, Gaz was getting some reports and noticed Simon had signed with his last name wrong. He found it weird, but hey, he didn't know about his family, maybe he changed it to his mother's last name?
Soap was the only one who actually asked. He was organizing his latest report, when he noticed it, Simon's last name. He frowned, but since Simon was just out in the lounge area with the others, he might as well tell him of the slip up, and maybe poke some fun at it.
So that's what he did. Walking into the lounge room, he threw the report on the table in front of Ghost, who grunted in confusion as Sopa leaned over the back of the couch.
"Ye wrote ye name wrong" he chuckles "unless ye got married and didn't tell us"
It was supposed to be funny. It really was. But then Ghost hummed and nodded.
"Oh yeah. Took the missus' name, she didn' want Riley"
He explains as he goes back to having his cuppa, like he didn't just drop the bomb that he got married. Price choked on his tea, Gaz was staring wide eyes at Ghost, and Soap gasped.
"No way!" The scot looked at Ghost like the blonde had grown a second head "ye got 'ta be kidding me. Since when ye got yourself a lass?"
Ghost just raises an eyebrow and takes off his left glove, showing the wedding band on his ring finger.
"Last time I was on leave. Didn't think it was important to mention"
He hums and keeps sipping his tea. Promptly ignoring Gaz and Soap's questions and Price's shocked expression, like they were overreacting.
You don’t know it yet, but you’re his girl and always will be.
Michael stares at you whenever you are with him. During rehearsals, during performances, during anything whenever or wherever you were.
Michael couldn’t help but always hover around you like a shadow, smiling shyly and giggling whenever you joke around with him.
He likes whenever you talk to him first or just give him small smiles.
People practically called you “his girl”. And what’s worse is you didn’t know it.
Michael would ask if you would be around, if someone were to say no, his smile would fall before putting his shades on and looking away like a drama queen.
He couldn’t handle his facial expressions when he saw you talking to a background dancer once. The background dancer seemed to hover too close to you. And you smiled, smiled that same smile you gave him.
He didn’t know he was sulking the whole time at the rehearsal before you came by and asked him small questions about the choreography.
This time, he hovered closer. His fingers hover over your back whenever you both walk across the backstage.
He’d run to you with that same wide whimsical expression and ask you if he looked great.
Simon’s never had to take home whatever he was pretending to buy before. He almost trashed your air fryer in the nearest dumpster after he had to watch Price walk away with you cozied up against him. You were supposed to end up in Simon’s trunk, not on his captain’s arm. When he’s alone at home without a captive in tow, he stares at his new air fryer and weighs the risks of tracking you down and snatching you right from under Price’s nose.
But Simon knows patience. He knows that those who follow Price’s lead are eventually rewarded. He endures the photos sent to him, shows that he can sit and stay even when temptation is dangled in front of him, daring him to take a bite out of it. He’ll hold out until Price lets him off his leash.
When Simon’s finally invited over, he half-listens as you chatter about recipes you think he should try in his air fryer, having trouble focusing because you’re wearing an outfit he’s very acquainted with and knows what you always wear underneath it. As you lean in from across the table to hear his short, distracted responses, he tries to catch a glimpse of red lace with little success. Price isn’t helping the situation either, still testing his self-control.
“So what do you usually eat, Simon?” you ask.
Price smiles and answers for him. “He likes red.”
“Hm? Oh, like red meat? That’s just like you, John.”
“We’ve got similar tastes in things,” Price remarks, draping his arm around you and giving you a brief squeeze that pushes your tits together. At last, Simon gets a peek of his favorite one of your bras in person.
i truly am my parents’ child; now i see your face in the mirror.
Prompt: What happens when a talented, but overlooked Na’vi! daughter struggles for her family’s recognition? The eldest Sully daughter, longing for her father’s gentleness—after the war rekindled her entire family’s dynamic.
wc: 5.8k find part two…here!
Pairing: female!Sully reader x Sully family, female!Sully reader x dad!Jake, female!Sully reader x mom!Neytiri
Warnings: angst; family feels; angst!!!; use of Y/n (???)
Setting down the equipment you were carrying, you crawled slowly to the entryway of your family’s dwelling—just to catch a glimpse of your family. Your father seemed to be scolding Neteyam and Lo’ak for something that had happened whilst they were gone.
“Kiri, go help your grandmother with the wounded. Please! Babygirl. please!” You heard your fathers exasperated voice, his anger was evident, but for her, his voice was soft.
You’d never seen him get angry with Kiri, maybe with you and your brothers… but never your sisters.
A long sigh escapes from your lips, the air leaving you in a long, shivering exhale. Carrying away the jagged edges of the day. Suddenly your mind goes to the times when you were younger.
The first born daughter of Jake Sully.
Where did I go wrong?
You were once everything to your parents, their first baby, a carbon copy of your mother.
At the first communion with Eywa, Mo’at saw great strength in your heart. You were destined to be a mighty woman. But your training was… cut short?
Everything was perfect until the family just kept growing. It felt as if you were slowly forgotten. Your father spends all of his time training Neteyam and Lo’ak. When they’re not training, they’re spending time with Kiri, Tuk, and Spider. Your mother is always busy with hunting, training, and… Kiri.
You’d felt you and your father’s connection slipping through your fingers over time; when he began to treat the family like a squad. It made you furious, and you let him know it. That’s one quality you took after him, his stubbornness, always snapping back.
Despite you being the oldest, Kiri was chosen as Tsakarem by your grandmother because of her very strong connection to Eywa. Everything was easy for Kiri. Even her Iknimaya, she did not have to fight for her Ikran. It simply chose her.
Yours was good, and fast due to your skills. You just wish that now, today, your talents were looked at for more than high-performance potential. You hated that word. Potential.
Neteyam and Loak’s were fast paced and celebrated greatly throughout the clan. Everyone had a big role in the family—but yours was always overlooked. Hell, even Tuk seemed bigger.
In the face of being one of the strongest young warriors amongst the Omatikaya, your parents just didn’t acknowledge these qualities in you anymore, not your strong heart, or your fierce determination, just your faults and mistakes.
You snapped out of it, got out of your head and went back to weaving. Everyone began to shuffle in at that moment, crowding the hut and taking their seats on the floor, bickering and mocking one another playfully. It’s what siblings do.
Tuk was the first to see you, but she didn’t say anything. Lo’ak thought you were boring, always sulking, in your own world. But what nobody cared enough to understand was you. Your skills were already good enough. Nobody ever really noticed.
You understood what had happened now, having overheard Lo’ak telling Kiri about his duties; tending to the Ikran for a month. Relief washed over you, you’re usually the one who hangs and cleans their saddles.
Your mother and father sat outside, talking quietly. Your father held that revolting steel in his hands, the stuff that the sky people use, their fire. It was nauseating to even look at.
They noticed you coming over from the inside of the hut, watching as you sat before them carefully, continuing to weave your armband. “How was the raid?”
Your parents exchanged obscure looks, it’s not really like you to sit and ask them questions about things you “didn’t really care about.”
But that's not true. You do care, a little too much about everything.
You cared because you are a warrior, why wouldn’t you care? Your father just didn’t allow you to go on raids—you never understood why.
“Good. Successful.” Jake said briskly, almost remotely.
“Oh! Look at this armband I'm weaving, I got a nice catch last week so I'm using the…”
Your excitement was perceptible. Your smile bright, hands stretched towards them, showing them your progress.
It didn’t take much for them to return to their own conversation, so you lowered your voice, slowly walked back into the hut, eyeing your grandmother's work as she smothered healing paste on Neteyam’s injuries.
“Move!” Kiri snapped, shoving past you and handing your brother a drink.
Your hand is around her arm in seconds, even though you’re quiet, and relevantly easier to get around, you have never just accepted your siblings’ disrespect, or your fathers. Perhaps that’s where things went wrong with him, always snapping back, never leaving his complaints unanswered.
You understood your position, oldest sister, respected warrior, blah blah blah. You loved your siblings, you just wouldn’t tolerate their disrespect all the time, especially when you’ve done nothing. “Don’t you tell me to move. Ask nicely.”
“Let go of my arm.”
“No.”
“Let go, Y/n!” She shouted loud enough for dad to hear, making you let go with a snarl.
Your father stormed inside. glaring daggers at you. “Hey! That’s enough!”
“She started it!” You waved your arms dramatically in frustration. Of course he’s taking her under his wing again.
“I don’t care who started it. She’s not the one hissing and grabbing.”
Everyone’s attention was turned to you and your father at this point, and even if they wouldn’t show it, you knew that they were disappointed in you.
“Apologize to your sister, Y/n. Now.” Your mother sighed, standing beside your father, her hands resting on her hips.
“I didn’t even…”
“That’s enough! Apologize.” Fathers voice bellowed past your defiant words. He knew you wouldn’t hesitate to finish that sentence, that’s what riled him up so much.
You turned reluctantly to face Kiri, taking her stupid hands and sighing, “I’m sorry.”
“For?…” Dad commented, earning a look from you.
“Whatever.” Kiri replied to your apology snarkily,
Is she serious?
Oh, but dad made no comment on that, you shook your head and sat back down, your lively braids bouncing with each movement, your delicate top swinging against your chest.
Your dad exited with your mother, half relieved that you didn’t make a scene. “That girl is ruthless.” He peeked through the entrance from outside, glancing at your crouched form.
“MaJake… I don’t know what to do with her. She doesn't spend time with anyone anymore.”
“That’s her own fault.” Your father sat, cleaning the metal and sharpening his arrowheads.
Neytiri glared at him before taking her own look at you, inside, alone. Watching your siblings with a curve of a smile at your lips.
It didn’t matter what happened, how far apart you’d all drifted, your love for them ran deeply. You’d do anything for your younger siblings. Anything.
It’s what got you in so much trouble at times, your will to put yourself in danger when it came to protecting them.
A week of adventure passed, you’d often leave and walk around the forest when your family was too busy to notice—but today, you decided to stay inside.
You lay silently on the woven mat in your family’s home, weaving like usual.
“Let’s go to the forest.” You heard Lo’ak’s voice but your head didn’t move up, assuming he was just talking to somebody else. “Sister! Let’s go!” He took your weaving supplies and helped you up.
“I’m supposed to be watching you guys, not going into the forest.”
“Who cares? Mom and dad are hunting, Neteyam’s not here to hold us back. Let’s go.”
You reached for your bow instinctively, delicate hands clasped around the firm, smooth grip made from bast and animal horns.
“Leave it, sister. You won’t need that.”
“Lo’ak…”
He dragged you after him anyway, into the deep, vast forest. Your bow left behind. Tuk tailed both of you while Kiri walked beside you, Spider with Lo’ak.
You’d never understood your siblings when it came to Spider, maybe it’s because you grew apart from him as well. You remember small details—playing together in the ponds, he’d chase your tails, wrestle with you all, but everything just fell apart at some moment.
“Tuk,” You called out gently to your youngest sister, making sure she kept up with you all.
Loak groaned, stopping for a moment. “Tuk! Keep up!”
“Okay, okay!” She shouted, arms hanging loosely at her sides. Taking her hand, you continued to skip after the group.
“Bro, why’d you bring her anyway?” Spider shrugged, his head shaking slightly.
Your tail swished in annoyance, who is he to question our youngest sister’s presence?
“She’s such a cry baby! She’s all, “I’m telling, i’ll tell mom if you don’t let me come”
“Don’t pick on her.” Kiri retorted, the young girl took her place beside her, holding her hand and jeering at Lo’ak.
It was immature, and unlikely for you to be so jealous of Kiri, but it’s almost like she’d stolen everything from you.
Your siblings continued their voyage, you walked quietly behind them, observing the wilderness, observing them. The forest would always be your home and you knew it.
Somehow, you all ended up at the old shack. Dad would skin you if he’d known that you allowed your siblings to see this forbidden scene, that never stopped your brother.
It didn’t take long for you all to notice commotion, commotion from the shack, so you moved quickly to hide behind the trees, dragging your siblings with you.
From the secluded area you guys had gathered around, you could see the Avatars. Five of them. “Skxawng, you should have let me bring my bow.” You whispered harshly, shoving your brother's arm.
He hissed quietly, watching them closely before feeling for his collar mic.
You couldn’t exactly make out what your father was saying to Lo’ak through his comms, you didn’t even have yours on. Not even your earpiece. All you heard was get the hell out of there and you were on your heels.
They all began to run, you halted, something in the bushes distracting you—but you kept going, slowly, assuming it was just a creature. You were wrong. Tuk dragged your arm, “It's almost eclipse, come on!”
There were two very large hands which suddenly wrapped around your youngest sister, you snarled sharply—eyes wide and confused. The other avatars pounced, their rifles, the metal…it all reminded you that in this moment, your heels are dug in for nothing.
Your siblings’ screams echoed in your mind, Spider had a bow this entire time and you hadn’t even noticed.
“Tuk!” You heard Kiri screech, your siblings holding up weapons to the enemy’s.
“Put it down! Down! Put it down or I’ll shoot you!” One of the recoms yelled.
Lo’ak dropped his weapons, holding his hands out to Spider and the others. “Keyn tsat, keyn tsat.”
“Mawey, mawey.” You tried to reassure your siblings, despite being petrified yourself.
They kneeled, some more hesitant than others, the dreamwalkers holding you all by the kuru, tugging harshly.
They held Kiri’s hands up, her five fingers flexing involuntarily. “Hey colonel, look at this. We got a half breed.” The man smirked, pulling your sister's hair back.
Their treatment made your blood boil, your sisters cries, her fast breathing—your eyebrows furrowed, eyes big and wet.
“Tsap’alute si, Kiri,” You shook your head, “I’m sorry.”
Their leader went around the group, asking to see hands, he went from Kiri, to Lo’ak…then stopped in front of you.
Loak's attitude amused you, his snarky comments, his body language—you had to stifle a laugh as this man stood before you, his eyes narrowed in recognition.
Carbon copy of your mother. The man’s eyes darkened, he stepped back, recognizing your humongous, golden eyes, and your four fingers.
“Kill her.”
Eclipse fell. The forest was silent, only the soft rustle of leaves and the small chirp of creatures resonated.
Your siblings eyes widened and before they could retaliate, the yips—unmistakably your mothers sounded through the forest canopy.
Everyone paused, Kiri muttered soft prayers to herself, the recom holding her pulled her head back roughly. “Shut up!”
Arrows flew, gunshots rang. The last signal you needed was your mother shouting Loak's name, you were on your feet then—griping the arms that were wrapped around your neck.
You grabbed Tuk, holding her against your hip and leaping away, shielding her with your body, stopping somewhere—hoping, just hoping someone would come to your rescue, there were too many nearby, and you knew.
“Tuk…” You whispered, a small caress. “It is okay.” Your sister cried softly beneath you, hands clenching around your shoulders.
When it was safe, you ran again. A startle response hitting like a rock when it was your family that leaped from the bushes.
“Tuk!” Your mother held her, taking you in her arms and then Kiri. “Thank you great mother, thank you!” She cried, kissing each of your sisters foreheads, letting you go subtly.
You don’t remember when, but Spider had gone missing, it came to your surprise earlier when you were all captured, the blue colonel was in all of the stories your parents told about their past. Has he returned?
You watched silently as the ship hovered overhead, the avatars disappearing into it.
Your father pulled his sons close, “It’s okay, it’s okay. We're okay.”
“Where’s Spider?” Lo’ak realized, his gaze moving over Kiri.
She pulled away from your mom, glaring at Lo’ak, then at Jake. “They took him! They took him.” Kiri sobbed, looking at her father for some sort of succor, everyone knew that he couldn’t do much at this moment. Always focused on keeping the family safe.
You beheld them covetously as he pulled Kiri close, whispering soft reassurances into her hair as she cried—worried for her friend. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re all gonna be okay.” He cradled her head, at this point you couldn’t watch anymore.
“Y/n, come. Get on the Ikran, you’re flying us out.” Neytiri took your arm, your father straightened up, guiding Kiri to where they’d landed the creatures, everyone followed.
“Okay…” Your ears were flat against your head, hands twisting your songcord which was woven into your loincloth. Mounting the Ikran steadily.
You soared through the sky, your mother holding Tuk behind you, one hand on your shoulder to steady you, and herself.
Your loud yips echoed via the vast night sky, signaling where your family should follow. With each breath, you got closer to high camp.
Glancing at your father, you wondered why he hasn’t muttered a word to you since they found you. Perhaps he couldn’t be angry, he looked deep in thought anyway.
Landing at high camp was the easiest thing to do, dismounting and immediately moving to the food baskets and having a meal, sharing with your siblings.
Your parents disappeared into the hut a bit earlier, you caught a glimpse of your siblings spying on them through the small gaps beneath the tent, you made your way over, kneeling down to listen—it was an argument, it had been ages since you heard them argue, it was unlikely at this point.
“Maybe we shouldn’t…” You whispered, already pulling Tuk into your lap.
“Shut up, skxawng. Listen.” Kiri said, waving her hand dismissively. You couldn’t fight the urge to listen either, so you did.
“I cannot. You cannot ask this.” You heard your mother say, leaning down to peek through the crack just like Tuk had done earlier.
“He’s hunting us. He’s targeting our family.” Your father was awfully quiet, hands hanging at his sides, his face—a bitter sadness.
“You cannot ask this!” Your mothers voice raised as she stood, facing your father, her body language is calm—her voice, not so much. A heartbreaking desperation in it. “The children! Everything they’ve ever known, the forest! This is our home!”
“He had our children. He had 'em under his knife!”
Neytiri exhaled sharply, moving slowly towards her fathers ceremonial bow and arrow, passed down to her—perched on a wooden weapon stand. “My father gave me this bow as he lay dying! He said protect the people! You’re Toruk Makto!” Her voice cracked.
Your father seemed to flinch at that reminder of his title. Toruk Makto. Looking down before glaring at your mother again.
“This will protect the people! Quaritch has Spider. That kid knows everything! He knows our whole operation.” Jake’s voice was sharp, hands gesturing wildly. “If the people harbor us, they will die. Do you understand?”
Your mother backed away slightly, her chest heaving, eyes dropped to the floor, ears flat.
“Look, I got nothing. I got no plan.” Jake continued, his voice soft. “But I can protect this family. That I can do.”
You stopped listening then, leaning back, hands resting lazily in your lap. The night passed, neither you or your siblings spoke a word to your parents, other than small good nights and sweet smiles.
You were more isolated, not completely understanding this whole situation. Unsure of where you’re going next, what they were even talking about.
The next morning, the camp bustled with activity, the people—preparing for a ceremony. One you had no idea of.
You walked beside your brother, adjusting the clothes you’d just changed into, fixing the hair you slept in as you both made your ways through the crowd of people surrounding the spirit tree.
Taking your stand beside your mother, you kept a hand on her shoulder, her sobs barely heard amongst the cries of the people surrounding us. Your father knelt before Tarsem…he was relinquishing his role as Olo’eyktan.
“Neteyam, what is this?” You whispered quietly.
His head snapped towards you. “Be quiet. I’ll tell you later.”
“Okay, okay.”
Jake stood down from the higher ground, leading your family through the crowd, the cut on his chest dripping in blood.
“Ma’sempu…” You called quietly, moving faster to stand beside him. “What is happening?”
“We’re going somewhere else.” He said blankly, walking solemnly.
You’d never seen your father so…sad before. Maybe a couple times, sure. But never this much. Where? Where are we going? You had so many questions, just no way to get the words right.
You all changed into your shawls, to keep you from the cold, packed your baskets and bound them to your Ikran.
You mounted then, your riders mask just above your eyebrows, hands gripping the saddles harder than ever. As you flew after your family, each of you looked back at the forest you were now leaving.
Your eyes welled with tears. A new life. A new home. Your family had already been overlooking you—a whisper in a storm. Now the memories of your childhood have been left behind in the only home you’d ever known.
You flew over the slamming tides, your ikran taking sharp turns and pivoting back, you were tired, but you had to keep yourself safe, safe from falling off this creature.
At dawn, everything was beautiful, the sight of the sea beneath you was marveling, shining in shades of white and blue.
“Are we there yet?” Tuk said, just waking from her sleep. We were just arriving.
Even in the face of this beautiful sea beneath you; you knew that you’d miss life in the forest. Your face was empty as you removed your shawl, slowly, steadily storing it into the basket on your Ikran’s left side.
Your beaded top, adorn with the soft leaves and feathers of the forest was now free with the wind, dancing around your chest as the breeze hit softly. You wore your warriors' raspu’ with your loincloth, the patterns mirrored your mothers clothing.
Shell horns bellowed, the yips of the Metkayina reef people sounded, the flap of your ikran’s wings loud as you followed Jake’s calls.
Then you landed.
Your mother reached instinctively for her bow, her lips pursed together.
“Hey, leave it.” Your father said quietly, leading the family in front of the crowd that was forming—hands raising at his sides.
Conversations died instantly. Heads turned. The Metkayina gathered quickly—warriors, elders, children. Until the shores were lined with watchful eyes.
Your father murmured softly, reminding you all to be calm, and to be nice, glaring at you for a heartbeat .
Two strange boys came through the crowd, eyeing your brothers, teasing them for their thinner tails.
Neteyam and Lo’ak tried to be nice, even gesturing the usual I see you with their hands, these reef boys only kept circling them.
Your eyebrows pinched together, fingers twitching at your left side—not in anger, but confusion. Your brothers’ heads whipped around suddenly, their eyes lingering on the ocean, or, really, a girl emerging from the ocean.
You smirked faintly as Loak's eyes widened at the sight of her. She was beautiful. The reef people were strikingly different, their turquoise skin, a breathtaking testament to their symbiotic relationship with the ocean. You appreciated this view, found it extremely interesting—the way their skin reflects the place which they come from.
“Hey.” Lo’ak said quietly, pathetically.
You almost snickered, the girl looked down nervously, huffing feebly.
The aura changed in milliseconds, warriors, several of them returning from a hunt.
Tonowari, the chief of the Metkayina, dismounted the tsurak he’d been riding. Your father had mentioned him in some stories, the ones about the past—the battle of the hallelujah mountains, when all the clans had been united.
He greeted you and your family casually, respectfully. The Tsahik, Ronal, his mate, parted the crowd, her hips swaying as she walked through, standing before the Sully’s, eyes sharp like ice, her expression serious, unyielding.
“I see you, Ronal.” Jake greeted, touching three fingers to the area between his brow ridges, and extending it towards the Tsahik. Your mother and siblings did the same.
“I see you, Ronal,” Neytiri said calmly.
“Why do you come to us, Jakesully?” Tonowari questioned, his arm sweeping inclusively, us referring to the entire clan.
Your dad looked around at your other family members. “we seek uturu.”
“uturu?!” Ronal exclaimed, glancing at your father as her ears dropped ever so slightly.
“Yes, sanctuary for my family.”
Ronal stepped forward then, circling your family and eyeing your siblings down.
Tonowari sighed, his eyes traveling awkwardly. “We are reef people. You are forest people. Your skills will mean nothing here.”
“We’ll learn your ways, am I right?” Jake said, turning to his mate, who replies with a simple “yes.”
You watch closely as this woman circles your brothers and sisters, she grabs their tails, touches their hands, and seizes their arms. “Their arms are thin.” She says, nabbing Tuk’s small forearm.
“Mom.” She inches closer to Neytiri.
Ronal stands there for a second before moving towards Kiri and gripping her tail. “Their tails…”
“Ow!” She mumbles, snatching her tail back.
“are weak. You will be slow in the water.” She continues, glaring at your parents, her gaze shifts back to Kiri who is standing before her. She takes her wrists in her hands, holding them high enough for everyone to see. “These children are not even true Na’vi!”
This observation earns loud gasps from the crowd, your lips part, releasing a small scoff, this earns a sharp look from Jake, then from the Tsahik.
“Yes we are!” Kiri declares, her hands snapping away from Ronals grasp.
The woman moves slowly towards you. She stands directly in front of you, holding your arms up and studying you before moving to Lo’ak.
“They have demon blood!” She yells, holding up his hands.
It takes everything in you to not step forward and say something. Crossing your arms, you leave it to the adults reluctantly.
The people hiss, backing away and raising their weapons.
“Look. Look!” Jake holds his own hand up, “Look, I was born of the sky people, and now I am Na’vi, all right you can adapt. We will adapt. Okay?”
“My husband was Toruk Makto. He led the clans to victory against the sky people.” Neytiri snaps, she glances at the Olo’eyktan, who gives her a curt nod of acknowledgement.
“This—you call victory? Hiding, among strangers?” The woman retorts, her ears flat, “It seems Eywa has turned her back on you. Chosen one.”
Toruk Makto himself. She is saying this to Toruk Makto.
Your ears perk up slightly as your mother clashes with Ronal, both of them hissing and snarling at each other. Jake quickly interrupts, his hand raised between them. “I apologize for my mate, she’s…”
“Do not apologize for me, Jake!”
“She’s flown a long way, and she’s exhausted.”
“Jake.” She hurls, stepping aside, Ronal does the same, sighing heavily.
There is an awkward silence that follows, “Toruk Makto is a great war leader. All Na’vi people know his story.” Tonowari announces, stepping up and placing a hand on your fathers shoulder. “But we Metkayina… are not at war. We cannot let you bring your war here.”
“I’m done with war, I just wanna keep my family safe.”
“Uturu has been asked.” Mother says, her eyes closed, grasping onto Kiri’s hand, Tuk holding her other one.
Ronal’s lips are parted, her eyes still cutting daggers through your family, newcomers. When her mate steps in front of her, her gaze lifts to his eyes, he lets out a long sigh, his face full of conceptualization.
She closes her eyes, nodding gently, a clear expression of reluctant acceptance.
“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters. Now, they do not know the sea, so they will be like babies, taking their first breath.” The thought of being pondered as a baby makes you feel sick. Your ears flatten, lips pursed and thin. “Teach them our ways, so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”
Jake huffs, a small smile creeping from the corners of his lips. “Okay, what do we say?” Your siblings thank the adults quietly, some more hesitant than others.
He turns towards his children, “My son, Aonung, our daughter, Tsireya will show your children what to do.”
“Father, why do…” The boy tried to question his fathers assignment.
“It is decided.” Tonowari cut him off.
“Come, I will show you our village.” Tsireya lead your family through the bouncy, woven platform which made up the village grounds, Tuk bouncing happily—grunting excitedly as you walked behind them, quietly observing the reef people and their ways.
“This is for you,” Tsireya’s voice cut through each thought you had as she stopped in front of a huge pod, abandoned, but not a complete mess. “Your new home.”
Your father stepped inside, taking a look around “Yeah, this’ll work.” He turned to face you all, hoping you’d all be content. “This is great, it’s nice right?”
Your mother dropped the mat she’d been holding with a loud sigh, everyone’s attention turned to her. We all knew she wasn’t very fond of this idea—none of us really were.
The day was spent cleaning and organizing the brand new dwelling until dusk came, everyone storming in for a family meeting.
“Remember? Family meeting?” Neteyam was angry, his eyebrows furrowed—pulling you and Lo’ak down roughly to sit beside him.
Kiri was stubborn like her birth mother, Grace. Refusing to sit even when your father told everyone to fall in.
“Kiri.” Your mother whispered—a warning.
“What?” She grumbled, sitting cross legged, reluctantly.
“Okay,” Your father sighed, facing you, Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Kiri. “I need you kids, on your best behavior. I mean it. Learn fast, pull your weight.” He paused to face you and Lo’ak. “Don’t cause any trouble. You got it?”
Your eyes trailed off at some point until you finally focused again, “yes sir.” Lo’ak said, looking at you expectantly.
“Yes sir.” A soft, coy mumble left your lips as everyone looked at you expectantly.
The passing weeks went by slowly, playing up the happiness you left in the forest—even though you were lonely.
Learning the ways of the water was more challenging than you thought, excruciating even. You couldn’t do anything right, slipping off of the Ilu, swimming too slow for anyone’s liking, you couldn’t even hunt properly.
Learn fast, pull your weight.
Your fathers words rang in your head every time you made a mistake, Aonung was not a good teacher, always teasing, never taking you seriously. Tsireya was patient, and hasn’t given up on you.
“Y/n, it’s like this. Hold here, make the bond gently.” She spoke quietly as you were seated on the ilu, careful hands adjusting your position, as you prepared to set off.
And you did, the creature moving with great agility, flowing gracefully through the ocean. You did it, You did it. The ilu resurfaced after a moment to breathe, Your smile was big, hands rubbing its sides. “Yes!”
“You did it!” Tsireya caught up, “You are learning to breathe.”
The sun sets beautifully, the atmosphere a canvas of shifting colors as you leaped to your marui pod. “I can finally ride the ilu! Soon I'll fight the sky demons on one! And hunt really well again!” You exclaimed, hands clapping as you spoke to Kiri who was inside with the rest of the family, folding teylu, seeds, and nuts into the waxy skin of a pandoran leaf.
Your father, sitting with your mother at the side looked up from his own leaf, he scoffed—amused and your head turned to him. “We’ve been here for weeks and all you can do is ride the ilu?”
Your ears dropped, tail swishing in vexation—hands resting at your hips. “Well…yeah.”
“I said learn fast.”
You shrugged, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “That’s easy for you to say, Toruk Makto.”
It wasn’t the mention of his title that made everyone around you freeze, it was the way you said it. Like it meant nothing.
“Watch your tone, missy.”
You stayed quiet, crouching finally to help with the food, turning away and handling Kiri’s stash.
“Should’ve known you weren’t ready.” Father mumbled, his own head shaking as he went back to operating the contents of food he’d hunted.
“What?” You stood again, spine straight, eyes wide, lips curled. “What did you just—Are you calling me weak?”
That pitiful word, weak. Not you, never you. You are a warrior, a powerful huntress. His words only fueled your anger. “I am a powerful huntress, a warrior. I am not weak.”
“Not mentally. Look at the way you act. You won’t catch anything but a lecture with that attitude.”
“Yeah well—” You staggered forward until you felt strong hands hook around your arm, you turned to see your mother.
“That is enough daughter.”
“No! Tell me, dad. Why don’t you acknowledge my talents, my hard work, my accomplishments. Always focused on everyone else…hm?”
Lo’ak sneered, pushing himself up from where he’d been half listening. “maybe if you stopped trying to prove something all the time, you wouldn’t have to beg for attention”
Your head snapped toward him. “I don’t beg.”
“No.” He shot back, shrugging. “You just whine.” He cooed, whipping his tail around as he jeers.
“Lo’ak.” Neytiri warned.
Jake’s eyes never left you, “you want acknowledgement?” he said, his voice low, controlled. This; to you, was worse than yelling. “Then act like a warrior. Warriors don’t stop around because they don’t get attention.”
Your chest tightened, you’d never felt more cramped…airless, in your entire life. “I don’t want attention. I need you to see me.”
“I see you,” Jake’s jaw flexed, nodding like it meant nothing. “I see a kid who thinks riding an ilu makes her ready for war.”
That did it. Where did this come from? All you tried to do was celebrate your accomplishment. Your fathers coldness ruined every inch of the happiness there was in your eyes.
“You think I'm not ready?” You laughed—dry, hollow. “I’ve outshot half the young hunters. I’ve stayed up later than anyone tracking tides. I try, every day.”
“And you still don’t listen. You outshot omatikaya hunters. This is our home now.”
“So that’s it? I’m just a problem child now, right?”
There was silence, the worst kind. Kiri stopped folding the leaves, Tuk looked between you and Jake, Neteyam glanced down, minding his business, but still listening.
Your father exhaled through his nose, “maybe you’re not as ready as you think you are.”
there it was again, not enough, not ready.
You swallowed, ears flattening. “You don’t talk to Neteyam like that.”
Your brother's ears perked up from his spot, Jake stiffened, it was like everyone stopped breathing.
“You don’t look at him like he’s a disappointment every time he breathes.”
Lo’ak was quiet now, scratching his head awkwardly. You were too far gone to care.
“But me?” Your voice cracked despite your fighting it. “You don’t look at me at all!”
“Daughter—” Neytiri stepped closer, her fingers tightening around your flexing tricep.
“Noo!” You pulled your arm away from her grasp this time. “You all only see what you want to see!”
“Or what?” Your stubbornness has you challenging him. “You’ll tell me that I'm not ready again? That I need to learn faster? That I'm weak?”
“I never said you were weak.”
“You didn’t have to!”
Tuk’s lip quivered, she didn’t entirely understand why you were so angry, pacing around, your hands clasped around your head. Your words hung heavy in the large marui as your siblings watched you pace and heave.
Your fathers face hardened, not cruel but more commanding.
“Until you can control that temper, you don’t fight beside me. You don’t go on hunts. That’s an order.”
An order? He cannot be serious.
It hit you then, this wasn’t a conversation, your father hadn’t been your daddy since you began to grow up. He was a commander now.
“You want the truth?” He continued, stepping closer. “You’re not ready. And if you went into battle like this—”
He stopped, his eyes narrowing a tad, hesitating... But his fear took over, and fear always leads to anger. “—you’d be the first one dead.”
The air left your lungs, not immature, but gone.
Even your mothers head snapped towards him. “Jake.”
He could only stare at you, realizing.
Your ears lowered slowly, not in anger, but in hurt. “You think I'd get everyone killed.”
“That’s not what I—” He paused again, his own ears falling as well. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to!”
Lo’ak shifted uncomfortably, even Kiri seemed shaken.
“Your father reached out instinctively. “Kid, listen—”
You said nothing, stepping back, grabbing your bow, then your knife, not even sure why, pride—maybe. Your vision, blurring as tears burned the corners of your eyes. “Kid” You scoffed, mimicking his term.
It used to be “sweetheart,” "babygirl,” or even just “baby.”
You really were no longer daddy’s little girl.
You turned towards the exit, your knife carried on your hip, arrows stored in a cylinder attached to the bow.
“Y/n.” Your mother called, sharper now.
You turned back one more time, frowning deeply. “All this time,” your breath was shaky, hands twitching at your sides. “I thought you didn't see me.”
You pointed an accusing finger at Jake. “But you do. And you see failure. Something you don’t believe in.”
He watched you go, striding towards the ilu pens with angered steps. Taking a step forward but halting just then.
Neytiris voice cut through him, low, and sharp. “MaJake…you speak from fear, and you wound our child.”
Your legs grew weak as you ran, but you dug your feet deep—calling the creature and riding fast, diving into the ocean. The moon casting a long path of silver light.
The ocean is not playful at night. It could cradle you gently, or swallow you whole.
part one if you haven't read it yet ^^ i call this one a filler 'cause i'm planning to have a few years timeskip to happen for part two (i want to marinate the angst between everyone haha) | not proofread.
it was idealistic of nonmc!reader to think she could just travel someplace far and then everything would be okay. ignoring the past, especially people she's been involved with, could only go for so long. for her, it lasted about almost a month before she received an email from an account she knew all too well.
caleb's letter was direct — “why are you avoiding us?” — needing no introduction whatsoever. so much for a warm greeting. she could only sigh in disappointment. if only she didn't need to create a neat professional username, he wouldn't have found her so early on. she looks at the text for a few minutes. she chooses not to answer, leaving it on her inbox instead.
the next day, it was mc's turn to send one. she started with a simple “hi. it's been so long since we've talked,” and then went off telling her about a lot of things. she learned how to knit because of granny. she finished the last season of the show the two of them used to watch together. she signed up to be in the student council for the new school term. she made a new friend named tara, who she thinks is really pretty. but mostly she went on about how she felt about nonmc!reader moving away without notice and how it affected them.
even though it wasn't her place, she also started speaking about caleb and everything that he's been up to since. nonmc!reader doesn't realize that she's been smiling at her screen as she begins to imagine him finally being able to pursue his childhood dream as a pilot — probably geeking out on the inside but still showing how cool he is on the outside. her thoughts unintentionally wander to that time the three of them were in his room, both girls looking starry-eyed at his collection of figurine aeroplanes.
she remembered the way he was laser focused on teaching her a thing or two about aerodynamics. teased her to listen and not get distracted as they giggled and kept pushing each other playfully. she wanted to touch one of the aeroplane and see up close its detailed design but he didn't let her, afraid to take it out from its delicate casing and ruin it. mc accidentally breaks a different one in less than several minutes and nonmc!reader was left to watch sat on his bed how caleb softly reassured the crying girl that it was okay. that it didn't matter. it was just some toy that he could replace.
that left a sour taste in her mouth back then and even now.
nonmc!reader decides to close her laptop and go about exploring what the new place has to offer her, not reading the rest of mc's letter anymore. both their face and voice haunt her dreams when she slept that night — unable to erase it from her mind.
this then goes on for weeks.
the two send her their own set of emails, all varying in content and length. most of the time, nonmc!reader would be too angry (at herself and at them) to even check what they've said. but on the rare night she feels the melancholic urge to return things to how they are, that twinge of regret coursing through her body, she curiously scrolls through each unread letter, memorizing all the words and the emotions overflowing in them despite the lingering ache.
nonmc!reader feels their nostalgia when they reminisce about memories the three of them made, their regret of not seeing what she was going through, their sorrow for not being there with her physically, and their own hurt and anger at her choices of staying away and leaving them both. “do they even know what exactly they're saying sorry for? do they really understand the alienation i felt whenever i was around them? they say all these things but then do something different in front of me. do they think i'm a pushover? a martyr? even when i'm gone, they have each other, as siblings or even as... but what about me? what am i left to have?” she ends up deleting all the piled up emails from them in frustration. she contemplates whether or not to block them. she doesn't.
they don't stop sending despite her not responding. the fact that she reads through them (they have a third party software that lets them know she's opened the email) is good enough for now.
when university starts, nonmc!reader, with her efforts, find friends that encourage her to try living life as freely as she can; to not let anything stop herself from getting her own happiness. she hasn't felt this fulfilled in a while, devoid of any insecurities and envy within her circle. she divulge her history with caleb and mc to them in month one. she figured she needed outside perspective of the matter. it took some time but a standpoint was made in month three. she concluded what needed to be done in month five when she sees the two's persistence of contacting her. they've made it clear they know she still cares because she always often read their emails. she feels a mix of embarrassment and resentment of their hold on her. “you two really are meant for each other — one and the same in making me feel like shit despite me trying and wanting to move on.”
nonmc!reader responds to them in month six. a short email addressed to both their accounts. she just accept that she's tired of the connection. she concludes that the love she feels for the two (platonic and romantic) isn't enough reason for her to keep hurting herself. they'll be fine, she figures. it was always going to be caleb and mc through everything since they were kids. she was only around them for a couple of years in their adolescence. hardly anything important happening there. it was always inevitable she'll drift off. it's fine. it's not like she hasn't felt rejection from someone she liked before. it was going to be fine.
“you don't have to message me anymore. i'm happy here so i don't think i can continue still being friends with either of you. thank you for all your stories. i hope you two well in the future. good luck with everything. i'm sorry.”
tags for my amazing readers (idk why i can't search some of you TT_TT) @miffysoo @pookiei-bookie @silkgardenias @sillyfreakfanparty @maryy237 @xie-hua @roastem @mia-menaceinaction @cacophonoussouls @shippingtara @younghideoutberserker
