Synopsis: Gojo Is So Unfairly Pretty Contents: Tooth Rotting Fluff.

it’s kind of insane that we have snippets of what Marceline and Bubblegum’s life was like throughout the 1000 years between the mushroom war and the start of the series, but NOTHING of Ice King.

All we really have is that he was enslaved by Empress for a while until (presumably) Marceline killed her and saved him. And that was when she was still living with the human colony.

and I know. I KNOW we have to consider that a lot of this lore was written by lots of different people over the course of a decade so there are contradictions. And that a lot about Ice King was originally written as jokes. But I’m gonna try to come up with my own version the chronology. And also most Adventure Time lore started off as jokes anyway.

so like. How long was Simon able to hold on for?

enough to build a huge library…

Maybe, for a while, he tried to collect as much human memorabilia as he could.

he called Marceline “Gunther,” but did he ever sometimes call a penguin “Marceline”?

what if Simon first got into the ninja stuff (chamber of frozen blades) when he had built the ice castle but hadn’t completely lost it. what if he could tell he was using the crown too much, and he wanted to find an alternative way to defend himself.

maybe he even initially got his weights to keep himself strong as his body was degrading.

was it a complete transformation? or would he have phases of coherence? would he remember Marceline and try to find her, only to forget everything on the way there?

when did he start kidnapping princesses? how long had he been doing it for before Finn came along? What did they do about it?

when did he gain his reputation as Ice King?

when did he hang up his coat?

when did he stop feeling scared?

he was alone for so long. he was so lonely. (he’s still lonely)

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 4

Summary:

wc: 1k+

A/N: um hii sorry for updating a lil late 😅 but I got really into writing this esp at the end. We're almost done! As always feel free to comment your thoughts and reactions, or send them to my inbox! Thanks for reading :)

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Song: It's Only a Paper Moon - Ella Fitzgerald (totally optional to listen while you read, if you like that sort of thing)

The small plastic bag carrying your lunch swung from your wrist as you pushed the door to the counselor’s office open.

"Thanks again for helping me organize around here," said the woman standing beside you.

"No problem, Ms. Keene!"

By the time you stepped inside, Miles was already sitting at the round table in the middle of the room.

The boy spoke first as soon as your eyes met.

"Hey," he greeted you flatly. His stare wasn't too far off from the look of curiosity you get from a stray cat that isn't certain whether you're trying to give it food or not; neither malicious nor particularly excited.

You tilted your head in surprise.

"Hey, you in trouble or something?"

Miles shook his head.

"Ms. Keene lets me have lunch in here."

"You two know each other?" The tall, dark-skinned woman asked. Though she had asked you both, she beamed at Miles as she spoke. He glanced back and forth between you and the woman.

"Kinda."

She clasped her manicured hands together. 

"I'm glad you're starting to make friends again. That's progress. Enjoy your lunch," Ms. Keene said as she spun on her heel to leave, her short bob cut bouncing along with her.

"And put on those glasses!"

Miles rolled his eyes as the door shut with a click.

"Everybody's on your case about these glasses, dude. Just put 'em on," you said as you sat down next to him.

"Don't need 'em."

"Okay," you pointed to the analog clock hanging directly across from him, "tell me what time it is without using your phone."

He scoffed.

"Easy, it's…"

The boy stood, and squinted so hard that his nose scrunched. He heard you laughing through your nose behind him after a minute and soon dropped back down to his seat, hands raised in resignation.

"Alright, you got me. But who's looking at the damn clock all day?"

"Sitting in the back of the classroom with no glasses on is nuts, Miles. What's so bad about them?”

Miles pouted in indignation, "They make me look like Steve Urkel.”

“They can’t be that bad,” you said, grabbing the case from next to him and prying it open. “Lemme see.”

“Nope.”

“Just this once!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please?”

The boy sighed, then took the glasses from you with a wary expression. He looked at them like they were a moldy piece of bread before finally putting them on.

“Happy?”

Neon green color aside, the glasses were truly not that bad. The thick lenses framed his face and made him look younger. The boy blinked, awaiting your verdict.

“Awww, you look like a little nerd!”

“Don't start with that,” Miles shook his head, a grin spreading across his face in spite of himself. He swiped them off of his face and took the case from you.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you said over a bite of your sandwich, “you look cute in them.”

He froze, a hand instinctively flying up to scratch the nape of his neck before turning his gaze in the other direction. You could still see the impression of his dimples peeking out from the side.

“Don’t get a big head over it, now,” you elbowed him gently. He quickly changed the subject.

“I’m finna tell Ms. Keene that you’re distracting me.”

Miles was now hunched over his notebook again. He had his homework sheet covering one page, but you could tell he was sketching. When you tried to look over his shoulder, he frantically shut it closed.

“Can you not be nosy for five minutes?”

“My fault, bro, damn.”

Miles continued to draw quietly for almost the entirety of calculus, never once allowing you to peek at it. He didn’t pause until you lightly tapped his arm.

The boy flinched at the sudden contact, but you had his attention.

“I’m stuck on this problem you wrote, just this one. Help me out?”

He tapped his pen lightly on the desk in consideration. Finally, he shrugged, closing the notebook and sliding it to the side.

“Sure.”

You placed the worksheet between you and Miles, where your desks met.

“It’s this one. I’m not getting the solution you got,” you explained, placing a finger on the offending equation. 

Miles peered closely at it. His braids nearly brushed the desk as his head moved.

“You gettin’ it wrong because you forgot to distribute here,” he pointed. “Everything has to distribute.”

You nodded as the gears in your head got to turning again. “Thanks.”

-

“Ma!” Miles whined as he took his plate of yellow rice and peas from the table.

“I’m just saying! La chica es muy linda, sigues mirándola. Don’t do anything crazy up there, understand?”

You were far from fluent, but the first bit of the brown woman’s sentence made a shy smile grace your features.

“This looks so good, thanks Mrs. Morales.” you said as you grabbed your own plate, carefully carrying it with both hands. 

“No problem, baby,” the woman replied, gently smacking the back of her son’s head before sending you both upstairs. “Same time as usual.”

“Your mom’s nice,” you remarked once you entered Miles’ room.

“You just sayin’ that ‘cuz she gassed your head up,” Miles laughed.

“Whatever. I’m ‘bout to fuck this plate up!”

“Not on my bed, I hope.”

The boy gave you a warning glance.

“Relax, you see me sitting?” 

You blew on a spoonful of rice before trying it, and the flavor nearly made your eyes pop out of your skull.

“Your momma went crazy in that kitchen.”

“M-hm,” was all Miles could reply as he shoveled the rice into his mouth, already halfway through the plate.

Soon both of your plates had been scraped clean, and you started working after taking the dirty dishes downstairs to wash. All three calculus problems had been completed, but a small squabble broke out over the appearance of the slideshow that Miles had put together.

“It looks so boring,” you complained. “At least make the background a different color–”

“Uh-unh, you gon’ make it hard as fuck to read. I say we keep it simple,” the boy swatted your hand away from the keyboard.

“Make the title dark magenta, and you got a deal.”

He sighed, “Fine. It’s legible, I guess.”

It was still only 7:30 by the time the project was finished, and you didn’t feel like leaving behind the warmth of Miles’ home just yet.

“Can you play some music?” 

Miles spun around in his swivel chair.

“What kind?”

“I dunno, whatever you listen to,” you tilted your head at him quizzically. “What do you listen to?”

“Um,” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker, setting it on his desk. “Just…whatever I feel like. Lots of stuff.”

He carefully laid down on his bed next to you, making sure to maintain at least a few inches of distance.

Old jazz music began to float through the air.

“You like Ella?”

“Yeah,” he said at a near-whisper. “...I do now. Forgot what this song was called.”

“‘It’s Only A Paper Moon,’” you answered. “From ‘The War Years’. Beautiful record.”

Miles snuck a glance at the side of your face while you stared up at the ceiling. He liked the dreamy, far-off way you’d said the title.

“You sound old as fuck right now,” he commented. “Record…”

This made you burst into laughter, and Miles decided that he didn’t mind that sound, either.

“My momma always calls ‘em ‘records’, so I picked up the habit.”

“I like how you talk.”

You finally turned your head and met the boy’s eyes. The small grin playing on his face wasn’t a teasing one.

“‘How I talk?’”

“When you’re not grilling me with questions like a cop? Yeah, it’s nice.”

Not sure what to do with this new information, you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling.

“You’re a strange one, Miles,” was all you could say.

There was a brief pause before you asked,“What did you mean by ‘now’?”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What’d I say about complete sentences?”

“Sorry,” you rolled your eyes. “You said you liked this song now, you didn’t like it before?”

He was silent for a good, long, ten seconds before answering.

“I used to not be super into jazz. Dad used to play that shit on the radio, driving me to school. I hated having to hear it the entire ride,” he laughed. “I know he’s somewhere making fun of my ass now.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, wondering if you should offer comforting words, or your condolences. Knowing Miles – at least a little – you decided against it.

“I used to listen to Ella songs when the house got too loud, or while I was eating lunch.”

“They let you listen to music down there?”

“Nah, I was eating upstairs with the English teacher after she saw me sitting by myself.”

“You still sit by yourself?”

Shaking your head, you answered, “I usually sit with Tianna, she’s usually my calc partner. This week’s kind of an exception.”

“So if it wasn’t for her, I woulda finished this shit three days ago,” he joked.

You placed your hand over your heart and gasped dramatically. “You mean you don’t enjoy being graced by my presence?”

“Hm,” Miles conceded, “I enjoy it a little.”

“Is this your way of saying we besties now?”

“Whoah, never mind. You killed the moment.”

“That was a moment?”

“Nope, forget everything I just said.”

-

Fun trivia since we're almost at the end: what book do you think Miles and the MC are reading in English class? There's no prize for answering but i'll be really excited about it. Thanks again for reading!

Taglist:

@thisaccountisrandomsstuff

@sizeablysized

@itsnotino

@asteria33

@kissmxcheek

@urmotherswhor3

@mrs-morales

@sukisprettyface

@kezibear

@missusmorales

@mystic60

@milesmolasses

@simp4miguell

@youcantseem3

@scryarchives

@mainvamp

@aki-ham

@v-vampy

@iluvweasleys

@pietromaximoffsbabe

@duckyduck25

@ulovejayy

@laylasbunbunny

@citrusequalsfrogs

@justreadingabooksstuff

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@arizzu

@tanchosanke

@animechick555

@ca1ist0

@spo0kypigeon

@theleftkittycollection

@oceean

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@sophiaj650

@inluvwithneteyam

@fennecspage

@stevenknightmarc

@okayiamkassandra

@gwennesy

@kklovess

@hana-1235

@r3d0n33

shout out to jaime reyes for being literally the only dc superhero who not only has living parents, but also a supportive and loving relationship with his entire family!  king of work-life balance and communication!

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 - 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

it's been almost a month since the whole "Victoria Kord Blue Beetle Fiasco", and Jaime has loads to sort out, especially since the new neighbour might not be what she says she is...

masterlist | next !

– pairings: jaime reyes x oc

– warning: fluff, canon divergent, blue beetle movie spoilers

– author's note: after watching the blue beetle movie, I've been so down bad for jaime reyes i had to make a one-shot series for him. disclaimer: i'm not of Hispanic descent and i have don't know casual terms spoken, so do correct me if im wrong!

The sun's heat beat down on the hot sand, heat waves radiating off the ground from the high temperature. A winding tarmac road lay between the plains, and a little vehicle sped down it, emptiness surrounding them.

“Mama, how much longer until we get to… Palmera City?” The woman drawled, picking up a pamphlet in her right hand, and pulling her wireless headphones down with the other.

“We're pretty much there, Drea,” A woman replied, hands on the steering while and eyes trained on the road. “We’re almost there.”

“Why can’t I just fly there myself? You and Amma can take the car. I’m twenty Ma, not five,” Drea huffed, neatening out her ruffled ebony waves. “You taught me how to fly when I was ten, anyways.”

“Kanna, you don’t even know where Palmera City is,” Another woman turned her head in the passenger’s seat to face her daughter in the back. “And you don’t know where the house is.”

“I do know where it is, El Paso Street, Palmera City.”

“Which house then? And you only knew Palmera City from the pamphlet,” The woman driving chuckled. “Besides, don’t you like spending time with your mamas?”

Drea said nothing in return, grumbling and pulling her headphones back over her ears, blasting her music at almost full volume.

“She grew up too fast,” The other passenger sighed, her hand on her forehead. “When did she become twenty? Remind me, please.”

“She turned twenty almost two days ago, aṉpu,” The driver grinned. “Did you forget that she almost set the house on fire when we told her about the move?”

“Please, don’t remind me, Zara,” Anika sighed at her wife’s entertainment. “I’m still drained from all of the mess I had to clean up after.”

“Nika, we’re moving, new people, new sights to see, and new opportunities for a good life for you and me. For our family,” Zara, the driver, smiled softly. One of her hands slipped off the driver’s wheel, encasing itself around Anika’s smaller hand.

“Besides, Drea needs a job, something that can keep her steady until she finds out what she wants to do,” She shrugged. “And Palmera City might have everything she needs.”

“‘Might have’ are the keywords.” Anika’s worried eyes met Zara’s calm ones. “If it doesn’t? Then what? She’ll just, what, fly alone to a new place?”

“Probably. But that’s okay, I was her age when I came here, and I needed something new. Something different. And then I met you, and I felt love for the first time,” She winked, her wife flushing.

“Oh stop it you, focus on driving!”

“Alright, alright. But you get my point, right?”

“Yeah… I do."

“Until that happens, if that ever happens, we’ll be just fine.”

“Hermano,” Milagro huffed, her hands forearm deep in water as she held a plate in her hands, holding it up to her brother, who was staring out the window in curiosity.

“Jaime,” She called out once more, her brother still unresponsive, the girl’s patience snapping. “Earth to Jaime Reyes!”

Jaime jumped slightly, taking the plate, gaze focused back on the window while muttering apologies to his younger sister.

“Sorry, sorry,” He wrapped the plate with the cloth in his hands hurriedly.

“What’s got you so distracted?” Milagro frowned, peering over his shoulder to see a moving truck parked outside their house. More accurately, in front of the empty house across the road from them.

“Oh, new neighbours,” She nodded, taking another soapy plate to rinse off from her mother. 

“I wonder what they’ll be like,” Bianca Reyes hummed, handing Milagro another plate.

“It’s about time someone moved in that house,” Milagro chirped. “That house has been empty for as long as I can remember."

"That's not true," Jaime glanced at his sister. "Mrs. Diaz lived there for a while before her son moved out."

"Oh yeah… But that was still ages ago. So my statement still counts."

Jaime playfully rolled his eyes, a smile faint on his face. Glancing over, Milagro questioned her brother teasingly.

"Why are you staring there so much, anyways? Did you see Jenny?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

"What? No, no. We're just friends," He huffed.

"Sure you are."

"No, look. Khaji-Da scanned their moving stuff—"

"Woah! Boundaries, hermano!"

"Exactly! But she did it somehow and she warned me about them."

"What? Is she saying that they're villains? Like Jenny's crazy aunt?" The girl beside Jaime placed a hand on her hip. "C'mon, they're new neighbours, how bad can they be?"

"Pretty bad," Khaji-Da chimed in Jaime's head, her host glaring.

The rest of the day proceeded to be uneventful. After dishwashing and tidying up after lunch, Jaime hadn't done much other than trying to find work or helping his mother around the house.

Occasionally, Nana would come around for a drink while taking a break from her sewing, and Milagro soon joined Jaime in his room, the two job-hunting together. Uncle Rudy was… well, somewhere working on "an upgrade for the truck Jenny had gifted", according to him.

If he could, Jaime would have described the atmosphere as "chill and somewhat productive".

His mind drifted from the list of temporary jobs he could apply for on the site he sat on to the whole "Blue Beetle Fiasco" over a month ago. To the friend he hoped would be something more, until she, in the nicest way possible, tried to turn him down.

"Jaime, you're thinking about Jennifer again."

Instantly, he shook his head, trying to refocus his attention.

"Nope, nope. I'm completely focused. See? I can qualify for a…" He narrowed his eyes, reading the word his pointer was aimed at. "Chiropractor? What, no—"

"You need to move on, Jaime. The positive is that Jennifer is still your friend. You have more responsibilities."

"Yeah, and I'm doing it with Mili," Jaime then looked around him, wondering why his sister's questioning and prying hadn't begun.

"Milagro had left to get a drink, while you were busy 'looking for jobs'," Khaji-Da chimed in, rubbing in her point before her host could ask.

"Thank you, Khaji," Jaime huffed sarcastically. "How long has she been gone for?"

"Ten minutes."

"That long?"

"You were deep in thought."

"Got it," He grumbled, pushing himself off of his bed to find his job-hunting partner. "Mili!"

He called out his sister's name, hoping to find her peering around a corner in response, but was returned with nothing, not even a single quip.

"Mili?" Jaime frowned at the lack of noise in his home.

"Nana? Uncle Rudy?"

Seeing that no one was responding, Jaime narrowed his eyes, his mind darting to the worst-case scenario.

"Khaji, can you scan or locate where my family is?"

"Your mother—"

"Jaime! There you are!" Bianca cut Jaime off, her son relieved to see that she was alright.

"—is right here."

"Thank you for the… status, Khaji," He whispered before smiling, letting out a sigh. "Mama, where's everyone?"

"They're outside, greeting the new neighbours!" She furrowed her brows, a smile still gracing her lips. "I thought Mili told you? Oh, I'll talk to her about it later, come come! Let's meet the neighbours, yes?"

She grabbed Jaime's upper arm, rushing out to meet up with the rest of the family.

"Jaime, meet Mrs Tlatilpa, and her daughter, Alejandra!" Bianca smiled.

Jaime smiled over at who he assumed was Alejandra, as she did look quite a bit younger than the woman beside her.

Taking in her appearance, he noticed that she almost looked Hispanic, like him, though her skin was slightly darker. Her hair remained wavy and was a dark shade of brown, pretty much black if he hadn't noticed it against the sunlight. If he looked close enough, he noticed that she had a few strands of braids tied together here and there.

She tilted her head as her wireless headphones covered in vibrant stickers were plastered all over, covering the brand's logo, and it seemed like stars — he noticed a few hand-sewn ones on her baggy jeans — seemed to be her favourite pattern.

Triangle earrings glinted in the light as her dark brown eyes watched him in curiosity. If he looked close enough, he could almost see sparks of red—

"You're staring, Jaime."

He flinched from Khaji-Da's comment, holding his hand out to shake hands, the woman across from him doing the same.

"Reyes, my name's Jaime Reyes," He nodded, putting on his best smile.

"Alejandra Tlatilpa. But you can call me Drea," She nodded respectfully before switching her glance to his shoes. "Cool shoes."

"Ah, uhm thanks. Not my favourite pair, but they serve their purpose," He chuckled, almost sadly as he remembered the fate of his now-incinerated favoured shoes.

"She's dangerous," Khaji-Da pointed out, Jaime's brows furrowing.

"What? No way," Jaime muttered, Drea, blinking in confusion.

"I'm sorry?" She questioned for clarification.

"No, sorry, I uhm… just a habit of mine, I talk. To myself," He quickly responded, his smile turning awkward.

"Right," She pointed a finger, nodding once more. "Got it. Don't worry about it, we all have our habits."

"Look at the two of you getting along!" Mrs Tlatilpa grinned. "Kanna, why don't you go get Mama? I'm sure she'd love to meet new people."

"Yeah, sure," Drea chirped, smiling one last time at Jaime. "See you around."

"So, your wife?" Bianca questioned, her eyes curious.

"Ah yes, it's a long story," Anika laughed nervously.

"No, no worries! In fact, would your family like to join us for tea?"

gif by @rob-pattinson

taglist: @mooncleaver < comment/dm me if you'd like to be on the taglist! >

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.”

-

Taglist:

@thisaccountisrandomsstuff

@sizeablysized

@itsnotino

@asteria33

@kissmxcheek

@urmotherswhor3

@mrs-morales

@sukisprettyface

@kezibear

@missusmorales

@mystic60

@milesmolasses

@simp4miguell

@youcantseem3

@scryarchives

@mainvamp

@aki-ham

@v-vampy

@iluvweasleys

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welp, i have successfully etched off 4 hours of my life just doing these canon and oc doodles. hope you guys like this :)

(i dont specifically have a taglist for my art yet, but yall lmk if i should have one)

THE WAY MY FRIENDS SIDE-EYED ME AS I HAD MY MINI BLUSH-FEST

Jaime Reyes: “Come to papa!”

Me, watching in the theater:

𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 - 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲

age-old traditions were to be continued for generations, but when it finally comes down to the toruk makto's son, he's not so willing to comply...

– pairings: neteyam x oc

– warning: fluff, canon divergent, cross-posted on wattpad

– author's note: this oneshot takes place after the events of avatar 2 because i refuse to believe that neteyam is gone.

translations:

– ma tìrol [my son] – zamunge fko [strong one]

Being given an arranged mate was something like a toss of a coin. It was sheer luck if you ended up loving the one you were destined to be with.

Despite the arrangements of suitors being highly disliked, Neytiri turned back to the tradition of her forefathers, a part of her following the custom in memory of the late Olo’eyktan, Eytukan. As much as he didn’t like it, Jake followed his wife’s wishes, knowing how much her culture and her father meant to her.

And so, with the consultation of the current tsahik, Neytiri and Mo’at had decided who her firstborn would be promised to, both looking at the candidates for the next tsahik. It was decided that the matched pair would be introduced when Neytiri’s son, Neteyam, the next in line for Olo’eyktan, was of age to be part of the People.

Unfortunately, the young man hated it. Neteyam hated the notion of not being able to experience falling in love, and he had hoped that he would be able to understand the look his parents shared when they looked at one another, and share it with someone who would be his equal.

Sure, he would try his best to get along with whoever was planned to be by his side as his mate. But for all he could know, they would’ve already been in love with someone else, and it was just another unlucky draw.

He dreaded the way his parents spoke of his arranged mate. His mother passed him a slightly pitiful look, and his father only gave his wife a guilty one, knowing what happened previously between her and her chosen mate.

So far, he had turned down nine of the women his mother and grandmother had introduced to him, and he had turned them all down. They just didn't click to him, especially after most of them had passed him thoughtless grins with wandering eyes. 

His mother was at the end of her rope, praying to the Great Mother that this time, her son would consider her current option to be the next tsahik. Besides, all she wanted was for her son to be happy and loved, just as she was. And she was starting to lose hope.

“Nete,” Neytiri frowned, trying to convince her son. “If you’re lucky, she would love you, and you could grow to love her.”

“But mother, I want to be a mate to someone I’m already in love with!” The firstborn protested, his frown deepening at his mother’s suggestion.

“And are you already in love with someone?”

Neteyam looked away, knowing that he indeed hadn’t found that special someone. Yet. He grumbled with crossed arms, Neytiri sighing as she hugged her son’s head close to her.

“Ay… Ma tìrol…” Neytiri muttered as Neteyam hugged his mother slightly tighter. “Give her a chance. She could be the one, only Eywa knows.”

Neteyam closed his eyes slowly, knowing that he couldn’t argue with his mother anymore. He let out a slow breath as he pulled away, nodding slowly. Seeing this, Neytiri’s smile returned, and the mother placed her palm lovingly on her son’s cheek, the boy leaning into her touch.

“But if I feel like things won’t turn out right for us, I want to choose who I am mated with,” Neteyam spoke up again, looking his mother in the eye, determination set in his features.

Neytiri pursed her lips, her turn to nod slowly as the two came to an agreement. If he agreed to follow her terms, she would agree to follow his.

The day of the meeting had eventually crawled by, Neteyam inwardly groaning before keeping his mind open to the one he was supposed to meet.

He did his best to realise that whoever he was meant to meet was promised to him as he was to her, so they were both stuck in the same boat.

Neteyam watched the way his mother smiled, and from it he knew that she was confident that things would work out. He was partially ready to prove her wrong.

"Nete, remember to keep an open mind," Neytiri smiled, pushing her closer to the little healing hut where Mo'at usually worked.

"Mother, why are we at grandmother's healing hut?" Neteyam raised his browline in confusion.

"She works under the tsahik to learn to heal. Her name is Näytle te Ìviu Oa'ite. Find out more about her, maybe you could both share common interests," Neytiri grinned, nudging her son closer. 

But just as Neteyam was within the radius of the hut, Neytiri grabbed her firstborn son's shoulder, whispering in his ear as the young man listened to her every word.

"Her mother has decided that the two of you shall meet each other first. She does not know that you will be arriving to meet her," Neytiri nodded. "I will not be following you in, but I can only trust you to make a good impression."

"Mother!" Neteyam frowned back as he glanced at Neytiri in annoyance at her meddling.

"Ma tìrol, she's keeping an open mind you must do the same," Neytiri gently kissed her son's cheek before pushing him towards the hut.

"Now go!"

Neteyam muttered curses under his breath, walking towards the hut with his browline furrowed.

Neytiri watched from afar as her son stormed off, placing her hand gently on her chest as she glanced up at the sky.

"May Eywa guide them towards a path of happiness."

“Hello?” Neteyam called out to the fairly empty hut. 

He walked around, trying to find the woman he was meant to meet. He peered around the pillars of the hut as he decided to try calling her out by her name, walking deeper into the wooden-built structure.

“Näytle?” 

He called the woman's name out as he passed by other Omaticayan healers who simply pointed him in the direction of where the mentioned healer would be.

From within a far corner of the shelter, Mo’at’s ears perked up at her student’s name, recognising her grandson’s voice. A small grin grew on her face as the tsahik gently tapped her protégés back.

“Näytle,” She turned to the young woman who was tending to a small Omaticayan boy’s minor wounds.

“Yes, tsahik?” The doe-eyed Na'vi woman turned to face her with a small smile.

Her eyes were filled with eagerness to learn from her mentor, her soft smile showing glimpses of kindness and hospitality that was very much needed in the medicinal part of the Omaticaya.

"My child," Mo'at placed her hand on the young woman's shoulder tenderly. "I am going to go gather with Olo'eyktan Sully and his wife. I need you and the other healers to make sure that whoever needs healing gets it as soon as possible." 

"Of course," Näytle nodded eagerly. "I'm glad you have entrusted me with this, tsahik."

The younger female turned her attention back to the child before her, wiping her hands free of the healing salve before wrapping his wounds up with some long leaves.

"Of course, my child," Mo'at smiled before stepping towards the back exit. "Oh, and I think you should be expecting a visit from someone."

"Who should I be expecting?" Näytle asked the older woman, but as she turned around, the tsahik was gone.

Näytle frowned in confusion as she gently turned to the young boy in front of her, patting his head as she softly spoke to him. She saw the way the boy grew a frown at the sight of his tended wound.

"Don't worry, zamunge fko," Näytle ruffled the boy's hair. "The pain will pass with time, as all things do."

She turned around, kneeling while holding a small piece of traditional candy, or something similar to it, the boy's frown disappearing.

"For your bravery."

The boy took the sweet, running off as the healer smiled warmly at child's burst of energy, unaware of the figure that watched her actions from afar.

"Näytle?"

The girl turned around, now face to face with a taller Na'vi. He appeared to be her height. She was surprised, especially when she couldn't hear the person's footsteps. Perhaps he was a hunter in aid of wounds he gained from the hunting group earlier. 

"Yes, that would be me," The healer responded, standing up from her kneeled position. 

Näytle watched the young man in front of her, taking in his appearance as she glanced him up and down for any wounds that needed tending.

He was attractive, she wouldn't deny that. The energy and wonder in his eyes about the world around him wasn't easy to miss. They hid in specks of ocre and gold that flickered brightly in the light of the hut.

His stature was built, one of a proud warrior. His beaded hair moved with the slightest movement of his head, little clinking noises of the beads knocking against one another caught her attention as she thought the braids framed his face perfectly.

If she could say, she would tell him that he looked as though Eywa herself handcrafted him to fit her image of perfection.

"Oel ngati kameie."

I see you.

Näytle nodded respectfully, repeating his action, without realising how his heart jumped in his throat when he said the phrase.

He couldn't tell if it was the way she interacted with the child, the way that she was filled with so much love and kindness for the life around her, but there was something special about her. Something just beautiful. Something that the other women lacked when he met them.

Her physical beauty in his eyes just emphasised that something special. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about her eyes that just made him want to discover more about her.

"Do I know you?" The woman before him, Näytle, spoke. 

Her gentle voice bounced around in his head, and he treasured the way it sounded for a few minutes longer.

"Neteyam," He placed his hand on his chest. "My name's Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan."

He watched the way her eyes widened in realisation, embarrassment flooding through her cheeks as they flushed.

He adored the way she looked so cute and flustered.

"My apologies!" She nervously tucked a strand of braided hair behind her ear. "I hadn't realised that you were coming to visit!"

The guilt of not recognising the Toruk Makto's son had lingered in her stomach, but it vanished when she heard him chuckle.

"No, it's alright! You have never seen me before?" Neteyam tilted his head slightly, amusement filling him.

"Ah, unfortunately not. From where I stand in the crowd, it's always too far to get a good look."

The young woman picked up the bowl of salve, walking towards a nearby table to keep the balm away. Her tail flicked mischievously as she formed her next words jokingly

"I have heard stories that he is undeniably handsome, though."

"Have you now?" Neteyam perked up, a small grin unknowingly growing on his face.

"Yes," The woman smiled, taking some leaves from nearby and taking them towards another table where a Na'vi equivalent of motar and pestle lay.

"What else might you have heard?"

Neteyam prodded on, leaning on the counter next to the female Na'vi. 

"I heard that he was a skilled hunter, a hunter that was much sought after by other women."

"Well, that's a pity," Neteyam shrugged. "They would have to do without me."

"And why would they have to?" Näytle gave him a questioning glance, tilting her head towards him slightly, as the circular motion of her hands slowed.

Neteyam's eyes glanced down at the wooden counter beneath his hands, feeling suddenly nervous.

Because perhaps, he was falling in love.

"Because I have been matched. And I wouldn't mind getting to know the woman I have been matched with."

Näytle smiled softly, her smile growing. She placed the pestle on the table.

The young woman held her hand out to the young hunter before her.

"Let's get to know each other then. It was nice to meet you, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan."

"Please," The Olo'eyktan's son took her softer, smaller hand into his, holding it gently.

"Neteyam is just fine."

He bent down, gently kissing the back of her hand, something he had seen his father do as a sign of affection towards his mother.

He saw the way her cheeks flushed, his smile growing wider at her suddenly shy state.

"And it's a pleasure to meet you too, Näytle."

His mother had proved him wrong, and for once, he didn't mind. Maybe this time, being arranged together didn't sound too bad.

theme inspired by @aokoaoi !

gif by @world-of-pandora

taglist: @mooncleaver @moonie-writings @peacelovepandora @neteyams-tsahik

— dm me if you want to be apart of my taglist!