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Jaime as a dad would be absolutely adorable, he would spoil this child rotten. and have conversations with them. he would let them sleep on his chest as a baby.

when the child is like a year old, i can only imagine him just cooing over how big they’ve gotten so fast and whenever they start talking he just like,

“I know right? Really no way?!”

“No! She didn’t!”

also the child would definitely pull on Rudy’s beard. Just saying. also

jaime putting the baby onto of his head they’d end up drooling on their fathers head like jaime notices a long thing of saliva running down his forehead

also the baby biting jaime nose also the baby dancing on jaime’s face, like their going up and down the diaper bouncing off his face and then it stops all of sudden he hears

*fart*

Immediately gags and shouts in disgust and curses in Spanish, as he rushes the baby to the bathroom.

everyone just starts laughing and jaime just tells his partner that their baby is a menace and she tells him.

Yeah, I know cause your their father they got it from you

hello !! ૮˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ა i really love your writing and your soft scenarios, they bring me so much serotonin and happiness to be honest !

i don’t know if you take requests still, but could you please do a part two of jjk men + short partner with geto? only if you want to of course, i’ll respect your decision either way don’t worry! thank you so much! <3

JJK MEN + SHORT PARTNER

featuring. geto suguru, itadori yuuji, sukuna ryomen x reader

warnings. reader is a non-sorcerer (geto)

note. hihi nonnieeee <33 thank you so much for saying that, you don't understand how much you saying that makes me so happy :(( i'm so glad that my works can bring you happiness omg. this is part two to the short partner headcanons.

part one.

GETO SUGURU. geto honestly could care less about your height — he finds you so adorable that he sometimes can't help but to pinch your cheeks gently, tugging your flesh and squeezing it lightly out of love; it has turned into a small habit that he does to you.

"sugu, no more, my cheeks are going to swell," you tell him, covering your cheeks with your hands to prevent the male from touching it again.

geto couldn't help but to chuckle at your reaction. you're so cute, so small compared to him that all he wanted to do was to poke fun at you. laying his large, calloused hand on top of your head whenever you both sit side-by-side, softly shifting just to pat you.

he will put you on his lap, playing with your hair as you do your own thing. you know a perk of being a shortie? when you sit on a certain height, you get to swing your legs lightly, letting it just flail above ground — and when you do that, geto stares at you lovingly.

"i'm a little jealous of you," your boyfriend mumbles, leaning his chin on top of the palm of his hand. his eyes gazing to your figure as you swung your legs lightly.

"why?"

"you get to swing your legs like that," he pointed his index finger to your legs and you stopped swinging your legs, "why'd you stop?"

"so you won't feel jealous."

geto easily pulls you into his embrace, nuzzling his head into your neck, "keep doing that, 'm enjoying it, you know?" he mumbles, pressing a kiss onto your neck.

he hates non-sorcerers, but when it comes to you? he just can't hate you.

ITADORI YUUJI. ABOSLUTELY LOVES YOUR SHORT HEIGHT. he would and will help you take things that are out of your reach — won't make fun of you, don't worry, I assure you there will never be a scenarios where yuuji makes fun of you. he just thinks you're so perfect, and he gets really sad when you make fun of yourself.

"baby, why would you say that?" he asks you, pulling you close, laying his head on your shoulder.

"yuuji, because it's true," you chuckled, brushing his hair.

"but i like that part of you. your height," he muffles into your clothes, leaning into your touch.

he gets so mushy with you — i'm not even kidding, will grab you, throw you over his shoulders and walk around anywhere. greeting people he know on the way, even gojo or nanami (while you're on his shoulder, also greeting them).

"nanamin, hi!" yuuji greets, walking past the older male as he turned to look at both you and him, you waved at nanami when he turns around to look — and he waves back at you, confused.

yuuji is clingy. but you don't mind — he will latch himself onto you, do you know how parents hold their baby when they're trying to teach them how to walk? yuuji does that with you, even if you're not that much shorter than him; still short, he still does it. because you're his baby, and he won't accept anything else.

"c'mon baby, left and right, left and right." he guides your arms forward, standing behind you.

as you took a step, he takes one too — like teaching a baby how to walk, it's cute really, "yes, just like that," he laughs. god, he's having so much fun with you.

yuuji won't let anyone call you short, even gojo. will fight anyone who makes fun of you, and not even kidding. he will not back down from defending you.

"what do you mean they're too short?" he retorts back, rolling his eyes, "you're too annoying and nobody's saying anything."

SUKUNA RYOMEN. huge. tease. about it. will go on until you cry — but will make it up to you in his own way. he's not one to say how much he loves you, but you do know that he does. he just refuses to say it.

"ryo, stop. it's not funny anymore." you mumble out lowly to him, pushing his chest away.

he chuckles deeply, but when he realizes it was serious; he stops, turns away for a bit before glancing back at you. sukuna isn't much of a crier, so he doesn't know what to do when you cry — he gets a little confused, like, why are you crying because he called you short?

"why are you crying, brat?" he grunted.

"you're being mean to me."

"i called you short." he sighs out loudly, pulling your arm away from your face — revealing your tearful eyes, "stop crying," he thumbs your tears away from the corner of your eyes.

"then stop doing that, you've done that so many times, it's pissing me off." you mumbled at him, sniffling lightly.

the male groans out, rolling his eyes, "are humans this dramatic?" he asks you, wiping your tears away; pulling you onto his lap, burying his face into the crook of your neck — as much as he tries to put up this tough guys demeanor, he feels bad for making you cry.

but will definitely do it again next time.

it's weird; sukuna shows his love by teasing the hell out of you, pissing you off, making you cry — then ends up feeling bad for a few hours before doing the same thing all over again.

"'m sorry, but i'll do it again next time." he murmurs into your neck.

"you're mean."

"i know. but i love you."

© IPINVRSE 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

"𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄…?"

[𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒] 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 gets a bit too aggressive, but how can he not at that adorable face?

cw: none♡

a/n: testing out a new layout, lets see if i like it :D

you are so adorable."

You scowl at Gojo as he scrunches up your face, his hands gently lifting your lips up as he smooshes your face around, his blue eyes staring into your own.

It was the third time today.

And the fifteenth time this whole week.

and it was only a monday.

"oWw, 'Toru! thwat herurts-"

Not even paying any mind to your muffled words of protest, Gojo instead pinched your nose, then pinched your cheeks, his lips tilting up into a grin as you attempted to scowl.

"Boop!"

Then he booped your lip-

Which was his fatal mistake.

"OWC-"

You grin up at him as he quickly lets go of your face, your teeth sunk deep into the skin of his finger.

You had an excuse because 1.

He's your husband.

2. he was being insufferably clingy today (as he is every other day)

and the last excuse.

3. because you wanted to (HA)

"What was that for??"

Gojo whined as you finally let go of his finger, deep imprints of your teeth still visible, as he stared at you with a betrayed look of concern and slight fear.

I mean, he was used to dealing with your crazy antics, but this-

Was actually normal for you.

Why was he surprised-?

The only thing he was surprised about was the fact that you didn't try to break his finger into two halves.

"Because you were being mean!"

You scowled at him and harshly poked his cheek yelping as Gojo grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards him with a cocky smirk.

"Nooooo, that's because you were being so adorable and so squishy an-"

Gojo wisely shut his mouth with an audible click as you sent him a glare, his hand sneakily making its way up your waist.

"Gojo shut u-"

And then he took the chance to smash your mouth with his, successfully cutting off the scolding you were about to give him, two large hands gently wrapping around your waist, giving you a small pinch.

And he smiled as he heard you yelp against his lips, your hands reaching up to tangle in his snow-white hair, the kiss getting more intense.

"even your lips are squish- OW-"

(he got inturrupted as you bit down on his lip, and for the rest of the day he walked around with two bite marks on his lip and finger)

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[12:18]

You are a steadily flickering candle in Bakugou’s dim world. He’s not gloomy or upset or tortured– no no, he quite likes the dark.

His mom has always competed with the sun. Bakugou rose first in his childhood home because beating the sun meant a few hours of peace. He wakes up slowly and heavily like he’s shifting under soil while blankets slip into the creased shapes of his body. In those first few minutes of dark the whole world is buried underground.

Now that he lives with his idiot classmates he sleeps early. Bakugou likes to pull the curtains closed as the sun sets and melt deeply into a too-soft pillow before his eyes can adjust to the dark. Making breakfast alone at dawn, training as loud as he wants to be in the gym across campus lit only by the fires of his quirk. Even at high noon he likes to shower with the lights off, for in these rare moments of dark Bakugou can finally think slowly without competition to worry about. If he lived a quieter life he might even get bored, but blessedly his friends can't spare him a sneeze in peace.

Walking through the halls is like trying to hide from fireworks. Running into Deku is as safe as watching a solar eclipse. He’s blinding and always has been; Bakugou startles every time the fucking kid flashbangs with a ‘good morning!’ or a ‘Kacchan!’ Sparkplug might as well be an electrical fire and Mina makes a blaring siren look like an insult to emergency vehicles. Kirishima is at least tolerable. He shines pink like a happy lighthouse but you still can’t look at him directly for too long.

You though. Bakugou didn’t even notice at first the way you could only be seen in periphery. In the bustle of class and patrol you stayed soft and easy to see. As noisy as the rest but not blinding. Like crouching on the beach and watching a sparkler come to life in your hand. Like polished bells.

If you woke up early enough you might catch him in the kitchen and twinkle sleepily past like a shooting star through the common room. ‘Mornin’ you’d grumble through a yawn and candlelight would peek out between your fingers when you covered your mouth.

Titling his head slightly to glance at you in class. A halo of gold outlined your body anytime he let himself linger on you like this. Sometimes he saw nothing but you illuminating the vast expanse of peaceful dark. Easier to look at but still warmer than the sun. Maybe the sun couldn’t compete. Oh jesus the sun would probably love you-

“Oi Dynamight,” you murmur.

Bakugou jumps. His cheek falls out of his hand and his elbow slips off the desk. You weren’t the radiant moon basking above rising tide– you were straddling the back of your chair lazily to chat with Uraraka behind you.

Tch, he spits and turns his head quickly towards the window instead.

Your cheek squishes onto your friend’s desk, “you look red, feeling okay?”

“Don’t get us all sick before midterms dude,” Uraraka adds.

Bakugou doesn’t get sick, your sleepy moonglow smile just makes him ache. Not like a sunburn. It’s like being too comfortable in bed for too long. Like a good stretch.

happy birthday katsuki (*ᴗ͈ ˬᴗ͈ )

LISTEN!! LISTEN!!! I LOVE A LITTLE ANGST WITH MY FLUFF. LIKE–

if @scryarchives says one more thing about tsubame and yuuji and its sad I WILL HANG LIKE AN ORNAMENT

Post-ww2 Yakuza!chuuya x Fem!reader

✮ Contents: ACT ONE, ~2k words, yakuza, mentions of ww2, mentions of double suicide

✮ A/N: omg i LOVED WRITING THIS FIC !! SO GLAD TO BE APART OF @kentopedia 's event!! a lot of this chapter is going to be set up, but it's important for the rest of the series !! next chapter~ masterlist~

Note: this is a work of fiction. I have taken some creative liberties in this fic, and i do not claim to know everything about japanese history but i have tried my best to be as historically accurate as possible

The train screeched, dragging along the rusty tracks to a stop. The doors slid open and people clambered out of the hot, stuffed train cars with large suitcases full of luggage in hand. You stepped outside into the mid-afternoon sun, surveying the noising chatter of people and the whistles blown by conductors while smoke billowed out the top of the train and dissolved in the air. Kyouka was right behind you- a young girl of around fourteen that had lost her parents in the war and, your personal maid. She carried your luggage with relative ease, it always stunned you how this young girl could manage carrying things most have trouble with.

“Come on, we have to reach the house soon…” You gestured for her to come closer to you. once she complied the two of you weaved your way through the sea of souls, chatter of things from the increase in the cost of rice to the presence of American troops flitted about.

Both because of the war.

You bumped into a man and quickly apologised, smoothing down the yukata that you wore as you glanced around the station in search for one of the servants that would bring you to the estate you were being sent to live in-for how long you didn’t know.

You saw some men crowded around a poster taped against the wall. Probably a poster from Communist supporters or just a call to resist the rule of gaijin. It’d probably will be torn down soon, and from the presence of American troops in this station alone made you wonder why it hadn’t been ripped off.

“Miss!!” You turned around to the source of the voice to see a young boy hurrying up to you, hair white and donning a sickly-pale complexion.

“You must be…” you racked through your brain for the boy’s name as he panted for air, hands on his knees. You were told his name before you left Tokyo, it was…

“…Atsushi. Nakajima Atsushi miss.” He panted, pushing his crooked bangs out of his sweat-beaded face. “Nice to meet you.” Atsushi smiled, straightening his posture and turning to Kyouka. You watched as he tried to take your luggage out of kyouka's small hands, to which she promptly refused and instead toddled off in search of the car. You smiled at her antics and followed along.

the car shifted against the gravelly unpaved roads leading to the estate. It was a family estate, built near the edges of Yokohama and one of few buildings that were lucky enough to be saved from the bombing of the Tokyo area a few years back. You rocked in the seat, hands folded in your lap as you looked out the window at the vibrant shades of green that adorned old, twisting tree trunks that curved along the sides of the road. “Have you been back recently miss?” Atsushi inquired from his spot in the front, steering wheel in his hands.

“No, it’s been a while. I can’t really remember the last time I was here very well, I was very young after all.” You braced against the side and let out a sudden yelp as the car hit a particularly bumpy spot. You looked at Kyouka quickly, confirming she was okay as you saw the girl looking quite unbothered as she stared blankly ahead with a small luggage bag in her lap.

Atsushi nodded, slowing the car down as the winding path opened to the estate grounds. Parking the car in a slope by the road, the three of you clambered out, exposing your skin to the sweltering heat of the burning sun.

“You can go inside miss. there’s not many helpers anymore but it’s not that much of a trouble.” Atsushi grunted as he helped kyouka lug the luggage out of the trunk, quickly explaining the directions to the room you were staying in. You nodded and went inside.

The estate was different; maybe it was because the light damage that was restored over the years, but there was something else to it. Maybe it was the way light shone in and hit the tatami floors, dust dancing in the rays coating the room in a warm hue. The floors creaked under the most gentle of steps as you walked through the halls following atsushi's hurried directions to your room. Pushing the sliding shoji door aside you entered the room carefully, as if there was an undisturbed creature slumbering away, forgotten amidst the chaos of the years long world war. There was a few things in the room, a western style desk and closet and a futon along with a few books lining a bookshelf. You aimlessly grabbed a book off the shelf, flipping through the text in boredom with your chin propped in hand. The entire estate was quiet, a far cry from the memories of the maid’s chatter and gossip echoing against the walls as a child. It was to be expected; no one in Japan was doing too favorably nowadays.

You sighed and dogeared the page you were on, laying down on the futon and staring blankly at the ceiling

Kyouka brought up the market as you ate breakfast the following morning.

“mh? do I want to go?” You took a sip of miso soup, head tilted in thought.

Kyouka nodded “I thought you might like to go out.” You nodded and swallowed.

“You’re right about that.” You spared one last bite of rice-it felt wrong to waste any when it was so expensive- and stood up.

The car sputtered and groaned as it came to a stop in a random alley near the Yamiichi. You and kyouka filed out, atsushi having some work to attend to so the two of you were left on your own. It was a bit stressing; after all it was your second day in Yokohama. Loose rock and dirt shifted under your heels as you slowly figured out the proper directions to the market from the vague directions given by a passerby.

Yamiichi were technically illegal, but sometimes they were the only places that most people could afford to buy from. Of course they had risks. Yakuza gangs often fought for control of the most lucrative markets in the city, and American troops often intermingled alongside the Japanese in the markets. However, keeping your head low and avoiding standing out worked well to repel possible troubles.

You were just there with your maid to get some food and leave. As the sight of poorly constructed roofs of market stalls grew closer you couldn’t help the dip of anxiety in your stomach, spreading and curling around in your limbs like a plague.

The market was packed at this time of day, and you made a mental note to come later or earlier-though the former seemed better to you. Weaving through hungry and desperate people was a difficult task, being pushed around and hitting the sharp, protruding bones of hips and shoulders would definitely cause some bruises if this kept up.

Pausing to read the stalls signs to figure out who was selling what, you made your way to a stall selling sweet potatoes among other vegetables, sending kyouka to another stall as you rather not stay longer than needed. The seller, a middle aged man with silver streaks in his dark hair, placed produce in a worn sack as you named out what you needed, and when he named the price it was more exorbitant than expected.

“Are you sure? For all that?” You dug your teeth into the soft flesh of the inside of your cheek, glancing at the half-filled sack. It seemed too much, but bartering didn’t seem attractive enough for you to argue with this man. You doled out some yen and placed them on the table, grabbing the sack of produce and hurrying off with it clutched to your chest.

Glancing around for kyouka, you didn’t see the man barreling towards you, looking around with hands shoved in pockets.

You didn’t notice him until he crashed into you, knocking the two of you to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Ah shit, my bad- are you okay miss?” You grunted and nodded, blinking dust out of your eyes as the ginger stood up and hurried to your side.

“I’m okay.” You sighed, looking to the side to find the threadbare sack ripped open and the produce spilled all over the dusty ground. You sighed and looked up at the man, gray eyes casting an apologetic glance at you while holding his gloved hand out. You nodded and took it, about to thank him when you heard an over-dramatic gasp and the crunch of gravel under hurried steps.

“Chuuya! How ungentlemanly of you to knock over such a pretty lady!” You saw a twitch in the man's-chuuya's- eye and he let out a silent hiss, glaring at the brown-haired man that strolled over.

“Shut it, mackerel. I didn’t mean to.” He snapped back, squeezing your hand a bit before dropping it. The brunette glanced at you before he grinned and dropped onto his knees, clutching your hand in his. You gaped a bit, a starry look in the mans eyes as he spoke quickly.

“My darling, would you like to reenact ending of the play Shinjuu ten no Amijima with me in a double suici-?” chuuya grabbed him by the collar, shoving him away from you and gritting his teeth.

“Sorry, sweetheart. For this mess-” He gestured to the wasted produce, “-and for dazai.” He shook dazai a bit and he whined about double suicides and how mean chuuya was for not letting him achieve one with you. You smiled a bit and giggled softly at the sight in front of you and if you were staring a little more carefully you would’ve seen the colour that flushed chuuya's cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll come back later I guess…” You sighed, shoulders slumping. chuuya's mouth opened before he shut it, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck.

“okay, guess I’ll go do…stuff…” He said it so quietly you had to strain your ears over the clammer of the market to hear. Before you could respond he lugged dazai up and dragged him away from you, not before you could register a snippet of their argument.

“c'monnnn, Chuuya! You hafta admit she’s reaaaally pretty-” a yelp followed.

“S-shut it!”

It took you a moment to realize they were talking about you.

You looked down and gathered some of the salvageable produce in your arms, and as you did so you realized your heart.

Why was it beating faster than normal?

Shinjuu ten no Amijima: "the love suicides at Amijima"; a kabuki play in which the two lovers commit double suicide at the end.

gaijin: foreigners; used by the Japanese to describe occupying American troops

Yamiichi: illegal black markets in post-wwii japan

©Cheriiyaya 2024

tagging: @rusmii @atsquie @minteraysolo @atzuhi @lovesick-fairy @adoredazai @pinky-99 @tabathastan @ravencincaide @dazaikinniess @nyx-prodigy @himikoslove @teddirika @hyacinth-venom @kaitoluver @dydrem @starracoonagain @scryarchives

Twitter requests for the day!

It felt very special to draw a suggestion from Glam himself 🥰

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 // 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ✧˚ · . 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗𝒊

‣ Pairing: Adult!Neteyam (20) x Fem!Omatikaya Reader (19) ‣ Warnings: Mentions of weapons, death, biting, blood and a teensy mention of vomiting. ‣ Word Count: 3.4k ‣ A/N: The wait is finally over! I want to thank everyone for being so patient, I know this took a while to write but I had to make sure I was in the right space before starting. I'm not going to pretend to understand the timeline of this movie, especially as we don't have Ronal's belly to go by at this point so let's just pretend that the timeline makes sense. This part includes some canon scenes (and another shocking attempt at writing action) with a little bit of creative liberties taken, I didn't want to go into too much detail of something we've all probably read 100 times. I know I've gotten tired of reading the same dialogue over and over again. I also wrote half of this on some strong cold medicine so as always I'll be back in the morning to do an extra proofread. Enjoy and let me know what you think besties. English is in bold italics all other dialogue is in Na'vi. ‣ Na'vi word bank: tìyawn - love, skxawng - moron, sa'nu - mum, eywa'eveng - pandora, uniltìrantokx - dreamwalker, ftang - stop, kä - go

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"What are they doing?"

You squeeze your eyes closed, pressing your face further into the surface below you as the light penetrates your eyelids, threatening to wake you from your slumber too soon. It does little to block out the high voice that rings through your tent but the warmth beneath you easily swallows your body, the soft rise and fall inviting you to slip back to sleep.

"Maybe they were fighting and knocked each other out?” The second agitating, grating voice is determined to not allow your rest. You grumble into the warmth, in hope that the owner of the voice would get the hint and leave before you had no choice to resort to violence.

”Lo'ak, don't be ridiculous." The third voice causes the warmth to unwrap itself from you, it shifts underneath you and all you can do is tighten your hold around it, keeping the heat from further escaping you.

"Oh shut up Kiri, like you can come up with a better explanation for this."

Something vibrates beneath your face, your peace finally ripped away from you and any attempt to return to your slumber thwarted once two of the intruding voices begin their squabble and the warmth groans and stretches out beneath you. Eyelashes flutter against the blue chest as you give in and blink away the sleep in your eyes.

“Lo’ak, dad said to leave them be.” Tuk calls out to her brother, solidifying her position as your favourite Sully with their father placing a close second.  

“If he wanted us to leave them alone, he shouldn’t have told us where Neteyam was.”

Whatever fatigue that lingers in your body leaves, your eyes snapping open as your reality hits you. Of where you are, of who is underneath you and how you got there. You roll off Neteyam’s chest, as if putting distance between you now would undo the damage of being caught. An explanation is at the tip of your tongue when you sit up, until your skull collides with something hard and you fall backwards, the head splitting pain stinging at the corner of your eyes.

“Shit.” A solid form catches you, a hand reaching from behind you to press at your forehead as if the firm hold had any hope of dulling the pain. Your eyes open, tears being stemmed by your rapid blinking as you find Lo’ak in a similar state of agony, clutching at his head and letting out howls that would rival a wounded Nantang.

You had never understood what Jake meant when he claimed Lo’ak had a thick skull until now.

“Lo’ak you skxawng! What were you doing standing over me?” A well-aimed kicked to the shin earns another howl from the big baby and a sharp tap to your already tender forehead alerts you to the continued presence of your least favourite Sully. His hand returning to soothe the area once he’d admonished you for your attack on his brother.

He was making it worse, so much worse. You freeze to the spot, a warm chest pressed against your back, an arm wrapped around your waist. The same arm that had spent the night holding you close. A decision made with little thought to the consequences it would have, the desire for comfort overpowering your good sense when you’d allowed him to pull you onto the sleeping mat and intertwine your bodies.

The consequences you were now facing as the three other Sully’s stared at you and their brother. Tuk with bewilderment. Kiri who was making a poor attempt at hiding her laughter behind her palm. And Lo’ak. Oh, Lo’ak who had only stopped his performance of agony to look at you and his older brother with nothing other than a look of horror on his face.

“Me?! What was I doing? I was trying to make sure you were okay. What were you doing?” He gestures frantically and the two of you, mouth opening and closing a few times before he can put together another sentence to express his confusion. “WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING HER?”

Neteyam’s hands release their hold on you, lifting in a gesture of surrender as you finally gather some sense to move your body away from him. You had found it far too easy to lean into his touch when it had become one that soothed instead of caused pain. A betrayal of your body to your mind as you felt yourself missing the feeling of his digits pressed against your skin. You were going mad, it was certain. You needed one of those mind doctors that Norm spoke of and Lo’ak’s face only confirmed that.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this baby brother.” Neteyam stands, reaching out an arm to help his brother to his feet, the gesture accepted with a narrowing of eyes. “Yesterday was tough and y/n was hurt trying to help me, I came to check on her. We just fell asleep while we were talking.”

“Oh yes, and grandmother always advises cuddling to aid the healing process.” Kiri, the only one who seems to both understand and enjoy this conversation, sits next to you in the space recently vacated by her brother.

“Not helping.” You whine, bumping your shoulder against hers.

“Not trying to.” She meets your shoulder with a nudge of her own, and you fix her with a glare that has little annoyance behind it. Kiri at least would lose interest soon enough and her teasing would cease. Lo’ak on the other hand, you could already see the questions forming in his mind, ones you would be forced to answer if you wished for him to drop it. You couldn’t blame him, not really. Not when the last true interaction between you and his brother that he had witnessed was an attempt to cause harm. An attempt that had since been achieved in other ways that you certainly didn’t want your best friend finding out about.

“Are you all better now y/n?” Tuk asks and you open your arms to accept her into your lap, her little arms finding their way around your middle as snuggled into your body. “Mom says I give the best hugs!”

You can’t help but squeeze her until she squeaks in complaint, a muffled “Too tight!” Coming from where you have her smothered in your grasp.

“I’m so much better now Tuk-Tuk, your sa’nu is right. You give the best hugs ever.” You release her from your arms, fixing her braids that you had messed up.

“So much better than Neteyam’s, right?” You ignore Kiri’s snort, looking up to find the aforementioned staring right at you. His tail flicking with amusement, he raises his brows to encourage you to answer the question. Your ears fold back and you hope your face doesn’t give away the heat that rushes to it under his gaze.  

“Yes Tuk, so much better than Neteyam’s.” It’s a blessing from Eywa herself that you manage to hold his gaze before he breaks the impromptu staring competition himself, his low chuckle echoing through the tent as he turns and rests his hand on his brother’s head.

“I better go and check in with dad. Have fun cleaning out the ikran.” He gives Lo’ak’s head a gentle push as he turns to leave, earning him a scowl as he departs your Marui.

“Well good luck with that, auntie already told him where you were!” You might have fainted if it weren’t for your body resting against Kiri’s. Your mother having seen you was a given, though you hadn’t much thought to it until now, but she’d told Jake? Tuk’s earlier statement that he had told them to leave you alone suddenly made sense. You would never be able to look him in the eye again knowing the assumptions he must have about what you were doing. Assumptions that bordered on being correct. You had no time to spiral any further when the absence of his brother to blame had Lo’ak turning on you.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Tuk, keep up!”

“Bro, why’d you bring her anyway.”

“She’s such a crybaby! She’s all, I’m telling, you’re not supposed to go to the battlefield. I’ll tell mom if you don’t let me come.” You and Kiri come to the youngest’s defence at the same time. Kiri sticking to words but you reach forward to flick Lo’ak on the forehead, which he still claimed to be sore, earning a yelp from him and a giggle from Tuk from behind you.

As you got older, the ban on visiting the battlefield had been seen as more of a suggestion to you, Spider and Lo’ak. You were adults, one of the people in yours and Lo’ak’s case. Not that you’d ever brave sharing your adventures with Jake because while as a father he had to respect that you were grown, as your Olo’eyktan his word was still law.

Bringing Tuk was maybe a step too far, one that you might’ve argued against any other day, but you needed an escape. An escape from the confines of High Camp and any chance that Neteyam might return and attempt a further conversation. This new Neteyam that showed you smattering of the gentleness he treated his family with and served to only muddle your brain even more. You’d sooner go back to the years of snarky remarks or even the weeks in which he ignored you after taking what he wanted. That Neteyam made sense to you.

“Are there any dead bodies up there?”

Eywa’eveng had staked claim on what once invaded her land. The aircraft had now become part of the forest, the vines entwined with its metal husk and moss growing on its propellers. You follow Lo’ak’s lead in scaling the metal husk, confirming the lack of dead bodies before you allow Tuk to follow.

You were cutting it fine to get back to High Camp before eclipse, as you always did. Kiri had wandered off leaving Spider to follow in search of her before you could return.  

“What is it?” Kiri questions as Lo’ak strays from the path, crouching to examine whatever he has noticed in the mud. Urging Tuk to stay where she is, you jump down beside him and Spider, brows furrowing when you find what he spotted. Boot prints, large boot prints. Lo’ak vocalises your realisation before you can.

“These are way too big to be human.”

“Avatars?” Spider questions, and you meet Lo’ak’s eyes. You don’t have to speak to know that he has already realised what you have. Whoever had been here, they were not yours.  

You pull your knife from its sheath, staying a few paces behind Spider and Lo’ak as they follow the tracks. You gesture for Kiri and Tuk to stay close, pressing a finger to your lips to indicate that they should be quiet. The tracks were fresh, whoever they belonged to were still close by.

You cursed yourself for declining to bring your bow as you found the source of the prints, four that you could see as they searched the old shack that you had been told under no uncertain terms you were not to visit. You held Tuk close to your side, declining to follow as Spider and Lo’ak moved to get a closer look. Risking too much movement was not a good idea, not when you had Tuk with you and only two of you held weapons that didn’t need to be used at close range. You were good with your knife, but it would be useless when faced with a gun. The boy’s return and Lo’ak makes the call to his father, dooming all of you to endless lectures and your worst punishments yet.

“Son, you listen to me very carefully. You pull back right now. Do not make a sound.” You hear Jake’s orders through Kiri’s earpiece, pressing Tuk tighter into your side. “Move, you copy?”

“Yes sir, moving out.”

“See, I told you.”

You push the siblings forward, taking the rear as you follow Jake’s orders. Your chest tightens around the fear that rampages your pounding heart, you could’ve prevented this. If you had not been so concerned with escaping the consequences of your choices you might have been able to convince Lo’ak that this was not a good idea, that you should not have brought Tuk with you. But you had been selfish, thought only of yourself and now you were all in danger. The little girl you held only hours after her birth was in danger.

“It’s almost eclipse, come on.”

The trees part and little Tuk is swept up faster than any of you can respond, Spider and Lo’ak each pointlessly nocking an arrow as more figures emerge through the trees with threats to shoot. You hiss, stance ready to pounce until you see Tuk desperately pulling at the hands that held her queue tight in her hands, crying out for Kiri.

You drop your knife, hands raised in surrender as you allow one of the uniltìrantokx to take a hold of your arms. Despite your obedience your knees are kicked from under you, and for the second time today your skull explodes in agony when the soldier wraps your queue around his hands and pulls. Your mouth fills with copper as you catch your tongue between your teeth, doing all you can not to hiss as you watch Kiri, Lo’ak and Spider be similarly manhandled.  

"What have we here?" The man has a marking of a bird on his arm, one you think you have seen before on a screen in the lab before Norm would tell you to go play outside. Bird man steps into the circle, observing you each in turn, his eyes lingering on Spider longer than the rest of you.

"Colonel, check it out. Four fingers. We got a half breed." Kiri’s hand is raised for bird man, or ‘colonel’ to see. His jaw tightens as he looks at her before he turns on Lo’ak.

"Show me your fingers." You let out a shaky breath as Lo’ak flips him off, something you’d learned as children from Spider. It was disrespectful Jake had told you when he caught you it to Neteyam. But the colonel doesn’t seem offended, doesn’t lash out. Instead he laughs. "You're his, aren't you?" Lo’ak hisses. “You’re his, alright.” He pulls Lo’ak up by his queue and tears swell at the corner of your eyes at the sound of his pained grunts as he tried to look strong, at Tuk’s cries for her brother. "Where is he?"

"Sorry, I don't speak English… to assholes."

"Where is your father?"  His Na’vi broken, but it’s clear enough who he is looking for. Lo’ak says nothing, a warrior in his own right, he would give away nothing to protect his father. None of you would, even when the colonel pulls out his knife.

"Really? You wanna play it this way?" Kiri’s cries not to hurt her brother grab his attention and Lo’ak is discarded as he rounds on the elder Sully.

"Kiri, no! Stop!" Lo’ak barely gets an inch closer to his sister before he is pulled back by his queue.

“Ftang!” You cry out, tears finally fulfilling their threat to spill as the colonel advances on your sister. The hand behind you tightens around your queue, sending white spots through your vision.

"Hey, don't touch her!" It’s Spider who stops the colonel in his tracks, as he tugs against his captor.

"What's your name kid?" The colonel asks.

"Spider… Socorro." Spider’s captor is shooed away and the colonel bends a knee in front of him, his face softens, absent of any of the vitriol in which he’d eyed any of you na’vi with.

"Miles?" You hadn’t heard anyone call Spider that in years, often you forgot that his preferred nickname wasn’t his given name. Your brows furrow, searching Spider’s face for any sign that he knew how this uniltìrantokx knew his name. You found nothing in his expression but disgust.

"Nobody calls me that."

"I'll be damned. I figured they sent you back to earth."

"You can't put babies in cryo dipshit." The colonel signals for Spider to be restrained again and presses a hand to the comm around his throat.

"Iron sky, blue on actual. We're standing by for extraction. Over. Be advised, we're bringing in high value prisoners."

"Heads up, three minutes."

Your tail sways nervously behind you as the colonel announces the latest time frame. With each announcement, as they had the five of you lined up held securely ready for extraction, you became less sure that Jake would make it to you in time. Your wrists were tied, the soldier holding onto you had one hand on your queue, another on his gun and you knew that you had failed to protect your family. Would they take you to their city? Separate you and hide you behind their metal walls where Jake and Neytiri could not find you?

Your ears twitch. The familiar hoot echoing throughout the trees, a look shared with Tuk confirming that she had heard it too. Their mother was here. You adjust your stance, getting ready for further signal from the Tsakarem. Kiri utters a soft prayer from where she is held behind you and you hear her groan in pain before all hell breaks loose. 

“Contact rear!”

You’re yanked back by your queue as the dreamwalker holding you turns to fire his weapon, the pain splitting through your skull as you try to keep your balance without your hands to help you. The soldier that had hold of Kiri and Spider is dead on the ground at your feet, an arrow protruding from his head.

“Lo’ak!” Neytiri calls to her son from her hiding spot and you lose him and Tuk in a puff of yellow smoke. You wasted no time in ensuring your own escape by sinking your teeth into the arm that held you, releasing your hold once your mouth filled with blood and his grip went slack.

“Kä!” You cry out to Spider and Kiri as you run towards them, pushing them away from the gunfire and into the forest. Your escape is hindered when Kiri is yanked back by her braid, only for a moment before, her mother’s arrow loosing from the trees impales the demon and you move ahead again.

Adrenaline pounds through your veins and you run through the forest, the copper taste on your tongue threatening to bring your stomach contents up. But you don’t have time for that, you have to run, you have to get away to make sure you don’t leave your mother alone. To make sure that Kiri and Spider get home safely and find Tuk and Lo’ak and know that they’re okay.

The heat hits your back before you realise there’s been an explosion, the shock is enough to knock you off your feet and you don’t even realise that you were not the only one affected until you hear Kiri calling out for Spider.

Neytiri finds you, pulling a resistant Kiri away from the edge Spider had fallen from. You hear her call your name, urging you to follow as she drags her daughter away, but you don’t really hear her. Not as you scramble to the edge and see your friends weakened form being lifted from the ground by the colonel.

You’re pulled from the ground before you can even make your move to climb down, strong arms wrapping around your waist as they tug you away from the edge. You cry out, kicking and scratching, doing anything you can to release yourself from your captor until his voice rumbles in your ears.

“Stop Tìyawn!”

“Let me go!” You demand of him, he can’t do this to you. He isn’t this cruel. He can’t make you watch as they take your Spider away. “Please.” You beg as the dam breaks, your tears flowing freely, salt mixing in with copper as they reach the corners of your mouth. His hold only gets tighter, arms wrapping around your shoulder to still your movements.

“There’s nothing you can do for him, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He whispers in your ear and lowers you both to the ground, releasing his hold on your shoulders as he reaches for his knife and unbinds your wrists. You know he speaks the truth as you watch the aircraft ascend, taking away any hope of getting to Spider.

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teamwork (makes the dream work...?) epilogue

summary: they ass is NOT doing homework 🤣

wc: 1k+

A/N: That's a wrap, guys! tysm for reading and enjoying!

prev

“Miles, what is this emo shit you got me listening to?” you laughed.

Miles was currently in the middle of an imaginary drumming solo next to you, with two mechanical pencils as drumsticks. Once the final cymbal crashed, he turned to you to respond.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s emo, that beat goes crazy. You done with your conclusion yet?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“No, but I’ve got all my body paragraphs together.”

“That shit is due Monday,” the boy adjusted his glasses, “Mr. Padilla don’t do extensions.”

Shutting your laptop in protest, you got up and stretched your arms. “Can we take, like, a ten-minute break?”

Miles smirked. “The last half hour felt like a ‘break’, but sure.”

The smirk fell from his face when he noticed you staring at something on his desk.

“Aye, don’t touch nothing–”

“Is this me?”

Too late.

Miles’ notebook was already in your hands, flipped to a page full of sketches of your face. There were little lines scratched out next to each sketch, as if he were measuring the proportions of your eyes, nose, ears... 

His lines were sharp and geometrical, as always, but they softened at your hair and lips. Speaking of lips, there was an oddly-detailed sketch of them off to the side. He’d even managed to include the suggestion of gloss.

You looked up to see Miles standing in front of you with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. 

“You done invading my privacy yet?” 

“Nope,” you placed a finger on the page. “How long did you need to stare at my face for this?”

You held back a laugh when he tensed visibly.

“Not long enough for it to matter,” he deadpanned, finally snatching the notebook out of your hand. “It was just a study.”

“Oh, so you’ve been ‘studying’ my lips? Got it.”

Miles’ eyes flickered down at them as you spoke before he returned to his spot on the bed. “Whatever. Break’s over.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” you teased as you followed him, “the drawings are nice! You made me look prettier.”

The boy looked at you like he wanted to say something - to argue - but he remained silent. You elbowed him playfully in the side.

“What, you think I’m ugly, then? I’m telling you, Morales, one day we gon’ fight–”

“No,” he interrupted.

“Complete sentences, please,” you mimicked, laughing when the boy sucked his teeth in response.

“Fine. No, you’re not ugly, and I like drawing you. Can we move on?”

With a triumphant smile, you finally cracked open your laptop again. “Yes, yes we can. I need your genius powers to proofread this for me.”

Miles leaned in to get a good look at your screen, hitting you with the crisp scent of sports deodorant and some generic brand of lotion. You watched his eyes dart back and forth as he read your work out loud to himself in a low mutter. While he read, your gaze drifted away from the screen and landed on his side profile. His ears were now delightfully occupied by tiny gold studs that you would’ve missed at a farther distance. Past his jawline at the nape of his neck, a thin gold chain peeked out at you from beneath his black graphic tee.

Your eyes met Miles’ the moment you brought them back up to his face, amusement playing on his features.

“Yo, are you good? There something on my shirt?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “Go back to reading.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m done. I just said you need to switch these two body paragraphs so they flow better.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he laughed, dimples on display. “I’m scared I’mma get my face stolen one day. Do you stare at everybody like that?”

A beat of silence passed as you considered whether to say something bold a second time, if not just for a reaction.

“...Nah, it’s just you.”

Miles blinked, the smile dropping from his face. “Huh?”

“You’re nice to look at, and I can’t draw you in my notebook to make it last longer,” you tilted your head comically. “Staring will have to do.”

Like clockwork, the boy’s hand shot up to his ear to toy with his piercing. He glanced out of the window. 

“The sun’s setting, you should really get that essay done,” he blurted out before narrowing his eyes at you. “What’s so funny?”

You had a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughter. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, “it’s funny when you’re nervous.”

Miles scoffed.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you sang, beginning to type your conclusion paragraph.

There was no response. 

Your typing slowed as the silence grew long, feeling Miles’ eyes on you until you finally stopped to look at him quizzically.

“Yes?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He leaned in closer until your noses were in danger of brushing each other, looking determined despite the rapid rise and fall of his chest. You met his gaze with a challenge.

“Well? You just gon’ sit there?”

Miles couldn’t hear anything above the heartbeat pounding in his ears, his eyes squeezed shut as he closed the distance between you. 

No one told him that kissing would feel this weird.

For one, your lip gloss wasn’t half as sticky as he’d anticipated it to be, tasting like artificial fruit flavoring. Your sweaty palm came up to rest on the side of his face and kept him anchored as his breath stuttered. Having no idea where he would put his hands (another thing no one had explained to him), he kept them flat on the mattress for support as you deepened the kiss and he leaned back. 

Your hand was gripping his chin now to guide his face. Having kissed at least two other boys before, you had a vague idea of where it was supposed to go. Unlike the other two, Miles was tense, almost unmoving, despite being the initiator.  

Miles’ head buzzed when you pulled away, chuckling softly.

What the hell was so funny? The boy felt white hot blood rapidly coursing through all of the veins in his body at once. He thought he might start floating, like a hot air balloon. Or explode. Or vomit. Preferably the first one.

“Are you okay?” you asked, dropping your hand. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

He blinked slowly, three times. “Yeah, I’m…fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. That was, um…” 

Hand on the neck. “Interesting.”

“A good interesting, I hope,” you laughed.

Miles tilted his head, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“I don’t think I’d mind doing that again.”

Handing the boy your phone, you said, “I think you’d need my number for that.”

-

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