(please Reblog This Only So I Can Reach As Many People As I Can To Get More Answers)

(please reblog this only so I can reach as many people as I can to get more answers)

tsamsiyu ta'em- healing and closure part two

Masterlist - part fourteen

Summary: Ronal and Tonowari notice a certain dynamic between Kayla and the human boy she's keeping separated from Neytiri.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: canon-compliant, mature language, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, rushed, time skips, fluff, angst, major character death, child endangerment, etc.

Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @motheroffae @undeniableadrenaline @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx​ @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix @ilovechickenwings @tojisleftarm @andyfromku @ivysully @lightandshadow31

A/N: So this turned out to be a very long chapter anyway 😅 but I'm glad I split it into two parts!

Without much sleep from the night before, Makayla found herself sitting outside the marui the following morning, waiting for her brother to return. Jake had woken up and noticed she was already awake but didn't comment. Instead, he shared that he was going to speak to Tonowari and Ronal as soon as it was light enough outside. He wanted to express his deepest regret and sincerest apology to the reef clan leaders for endangering their children and their people, along with the promise to move his family elsewhere so they wouldn't draw any more attention to the Metkayina. As sunlight began to sparkle and reflect off the ocean's surface, Jake kept his word and left. Kayla had been sitting outside ever since.  

Sounds of life could be heard inside the Sully marui, shuffling and quiet voices indicating that the others were slowly waking up, but Kayla didn't go back in and investigate. She remained outside, basking in whatever silence was left before the whole village awakened. Kayla listened to the quiet sounds of birds off in the distance, pinpointing small chirps from the ilu pens, and the gentle waves crashing into the sand along the beach. It was so peaceful, and for just a brief moment, Kayla allowed herself to relax.

Other Na'vi were starting to leave their homes and begin their morning chores by the time Jake came trekking down the walkways. Kayla had spotted him from a distance and quickly stood, waiting to meet him when he drew closer.

"So what happened? What did the olo'eyktan and tsahik say?"

Jake shared a small solemn gaze with her, speaking quietly so no one inside his home could hear him, "They both agree that we are Metkayina now and are allowing us to stay."

Kayla's shoulders relaxed, surprising even herself when she felt relief. Sure, she would have kept a stiff lip if she had no choice but to help her brother move his family out, but she was glad that they would get to stay. And-- a small part of her was relieved to know that Tonowari and Ronal didn't hold any ill will toward her family.

She allowed herself to take a deep breath, "So what now?"

"It's customary for a grieving family to stay secluded from the rest of the village while they mourn," Jake explained with an unnaturally soft voice, like saying it would make it real and he didn't want that, "We'll stay at home for the rest of the week and then we'll go from there. See what happens."

~~~~~~~~~

Despite being given the much-needed time to rest and be there for her family, Makayla was beginning to get a little stir-crazy.

She understood why the Na'vi believes in allowing yourself a window of grieving before returning to your normal life... but she honestly didn't feel as though she could deal with isolating oneself in their home for a whole week. Kayla was a woman of action, always on the move, never stopping. It was easy to prove herself among the Omatikaya because there was always something to do, something to keep her busy until it was time to finally force herself to rest at the end of the day. But here and now, it was nearly impossible. The Metkayina expect her and the rest of the Sullys to stay home and mourn. Maybe it was the way she was brought up in the military, but Kayla couldn't bring herself to not do... well, nothing. She needed to process death in her own way at her own time, but not like this.

A part of her envied Jake for being able to do what the Na'vi expect of him, especially when he used to be just like his sister-- always on the move. Of course, after such a long adjustment period living among the Omatikaya, he had managed to get rid of a lot of old habits, good and bad. Jake appeared relieved to be given this time to mourn, and Kayla couldn't exactly blame him. His son was taken from him, and that was a pain she knew that she could never understand. So yes, while she envied the fact Jake could stay isolated in a marui all day, she also understood her brother and how he needed time away from prying eyes so he could grieve. Neytiri and the children were no different. They did move around the home and kept themselves busy, but they never left beyond the threshold the entire week. The way they moved around each other made Kayla feel like an outsider looking in. The family moved in sync with one another, talking fluidly and like a team. She didn't have that sort of bond with them. At least, she didn't believe she did. Looking over at Spider who kept himself separate from the Sullys and sulking in the corner, Kayla could tell he more or less felt the same way.

Ao'nung, Tsireya, and Rotxo would stop by occasionally to provide the family with some food, water, and other provisions the Sullys might need during their grieving period but otherwise left them alone until they were ready to rejoin society. Apart from the reef children, Kayla and the rest of the Sullys have not seen another living face outside of each other's.

By the third day, Kayla was starting to get antsy and desperate. She needed to do something to keep her mind busy. When she finally stood up and announced she needed to visit the clan leaders, Jake was more than happy to let her go since she was driving him just as equally crazy. Off she went without any of the Sullys doing much to protest, practically running out of that marui without ever looking back. A part of her felt guilty, but at the very least, Kayla felt comfortable leaving Spider there as long as Kiri or Lo'ak would always be with him and not just Neytiri.

Once she made it to her destination, she was astonished to see both Tonowari and Ronal were home inside their marui, thinking that she might only find one or neither of them in the middle of the day. Both clan leaders were teaming up to stretch a fishing net out to try and detect any mistakes, standing far across the kelku from one another with the net stretched out between them. Making sure to make plenty of noise as she approached the home, Kayla purposely stayed right outside the entryway until both sets of eyes landed on her.

Tonowari looked pleasantly surprised to see her standing there and lifted his fingers to his forehead before lowering them toward her as a greeting, "Makayla te Suli."

Kayla does a double-take and quickly repeats the gesture, "May I come in?"

"Please," Tonowari extends his arm to direct her further into the marui, gesturing to the hearth as he and Ronal set the fishing net aside, "Sit."

"You are walking," Ronal stated the obvious as Kayla stepped inside her home, glancing down at the small limp the other woman was sporting. The tsahik held her rounded stomach in one hand and carefully sat down in the small circle her mate and Kayla had created when they also knelt down. She eyed the avatar carefully, "You should wait to do so until your foot regains full mobility."

Kayla glances down at her wrapped ankle, ears lowering in shame, "I just... wanted to thank you for allowing my family to stay here. You didn't have to, even after everything that happened, but you did."

Tonowari shakes his head and raises his hand to stop her, "Your family are Metkayina now. There's not much else they can learn, so they are free to live among us. As are you."

The avatar tilted her head, eyes widening in bafflement, "Me?"

"Yes," Ronal adds to her husband's statement, "You have learned much in your time here. You will always have a place in our village. The Way of Water gives and takes, life and death. In exchange for your loss, it has given you a home here."

Kayla's eyes fall to stare down at her lap at the reminder, staring down at her hands, "My loss..."

"Toruk Makto is your brother. His son was your nephew, was he not? You lost a nephew."

"We are very sorry for your loss."

She glances between them, a little thrown off by their sentiment. Her eyes quickly go back to staring down at her lap, "... Thank you."

Ronal must have seen something in her expression to believe that this wasn't the first time Makayla had lost someone. Despite feeling indifferent to the avatar woman, the tsahik's heart clenched painfully at the idea of someone who goes through loss just as often as one might breathe, "Is grief a friend of yours?"

She shrugged, "I'm not a stranger to it if that's what you mean."

The answer wasn't a comfort for Ronal, wincing at the thought of her own loss. She lost Ro'a at the worst time imaginable in both of their lives, ready to raise babies together. Although, there's never really a good time to lose someone you love, no matter where you are in life. Kayla didn't exactly strike Ronal as someone who had to deal with death only once before. At the mention of her nephew, Kayla only appeared to want to sink into a hole and nothing more, and it aged her face far beyond her years. "You are not with your family. Families grieve together. It usually helps."

Kayla shook her head, "I wanted to give them space. I felt like I was intruding."

"Are you not a part of their family?"

"I am." She nods, although she doesn't sound convinced herself, and the clan leaders both notice this.

Tonowari sees his mate glance over in his direction out of the corner of his eye. When he turns his head toward Ronal, she's visibly asking him a question through her eyes and he immediately understands the message she was trying to get across to him. The chieftain simply nods to her and then turns to address the Sully woman in front of him, "You are more than welcome to stay with us if you wish to grieve and live separately from Toruk Makto's family."

She pushes down the warmth that threatened to rise in her cheeks. She wasn't a teenager anymore, she could handle an adult conversation without automatically assuming any wrong intentions. Instead of assuming anything, Kayla simply shook her head, "I can't ask that of you. I'll just be keeping up space."

"Arrangements can be made for a marui of your own," Ronal quickly added as a way of further reassuring Kayla instead of scaring her off by their boldness, "You and the demon boy."

Kayla bit her tongue and chose to ignore the labeling, clearing her throat to regain her voice a little, "Thank you, but that's not necessary. I wouldn't want to burden anybody."

"You are not a burden. You are one of us now."

Yellow eyes peer up to meet the blue and green pairs already staring at her. Neither man nor woman appeared as if trying to help her was a burden, their eyes silently pleading for her to agree. She wasn't sure if they were desperate or just pitying her, and she wasn't sure which she would prefer they feel. Kayla had to admit that their offers were tempting, and the common sense in her was begging her head to see reason. The avatar briefly thought of Spider, alone among the Sullys back at the marui right now, and she thought about what could be best for him.

She swallowed as she shamefully admitted to herself that being away from Neytiri would be best for him right now, "I... I mean-- if there are any pods to spare..."

"There is. We will make the arrangements," Ronal leans over and promptly grabs Kayla's hand, stunning the avatar but unable to move underneath the stare the tsahik provided her, "For now, return to your brother and his family. Rest your foot... or I will not be pleased if I have to treat it again."

Ronal's harshness was uplifting for Kayla, a small sense of normalcy after such a daring move as to grab her hand. A part of the avatar wanted the other woman to continue acting as herself, cold and distant from strangers like Kayla... but there was a small, shameful sliver of herself that wanted the tsahik to continue holding her hand, especially after her fingers had suddenly let go.

~~~~~~~~~

Spider is quiet after Kayla informs him that the two of them will be moving into a separate marui. He doesn't appear angry or even shocked, as his eyes continuously flick over to Neytiri's direction during the whole discussion, but even Kayla felt guilty when Spider went around hugging the Sully children, softly telling them that they'll see him once their week of mourning was over. The only one who didn't comment during the whole time Kayla had packed her things was Neytiri, but while she didn't say anything, Kayla could see that she was secretly relieved to be rid of the boy. With no items or essentials to call his own, the teenager followed Kayla outside where Jake was waiting for them. Kayla's brother didn't look confident about this new living situation, but the worry could easily be chalked up to someone who didn't want his family to be too far away from him after everything they had just been through. Before parting, Jake placed a large, comforting hand on Spider's shoulder and offered him a weak smile.

"Keep her out of trouble for me, will ya?"

"Yes, sir."

The avatar and teenager make their way down the long stretches of walking paths, avoiding eye contact with any Metkayina. At least, Spider was, and he thought Kayla was doing the same since she seemed so desperate to avoid everyone when she brought him to the village the other day. However, due to Kayla walking in front of Spider, he failed to notice that anyone who was caught staring as they walked by would receive Kayla blankly staring right back long enough to the point where it would unnerve the Na'vi and force them to look away.

Spider followed Kayla toward the center of the village where there was a bigger marui waiting for them. The boy's back immediately straightens up when he sees the clan leaders of the Metkayina waiting for them just outside of the pod. Kayla approached the two with ease, not as intimated by their height and regality as Spider was. 

The tsahik spoke firmly to her, lips pursed in disapproval, "You are on your foot again."

"I promise to rest once Spider and I are settled," She dipped her head to them, pressing her fingers to her forehead before lowering it in their direction and turning back around to beckon Spider over to her side, "I don't think you three have been properly introduced. Spider, this is the olo'eyktan and the tsahik of the Metkayina. Tonowari, Ronal, this is Spider."

Spider was quick to remember his manners and greeted them with a familiar hand gesture to the rim of his mask and bowing his head, "Oel ngati kameie, Ronal. Oel ngati kameie, Tonowari."

The olo'eyktan stepped up and greeted the boy the same way. Kayla felt a small bit of tension in her shoulders begin to relax when Tonowari spoke to Spider with a benign voice, "Oel ngati kameie, Spider. Welcome to our village."

The chieftain kept his expression open and calm, being friendly but professional. He spoke to Spider as he would for other teenagers, gently but with a tone of voice that didn't talk down or belittle him. Tonowari smiles warmly, eyes darting between Spider and Kayla, "Makayla te Suli speaks highly of you, as does her nieces and nephew."

Spider's posture begins to relax at the words meant to reassure him. Kayla shares the sentiment until her eyes flick over to the woman standing behind Tonowari. Yellow eyes meet green ones and suddenly Kayla is back to being on her guard. Ronal's expression was stone, impassive, and purposely closed off from any interpretation. It wasn't a very comforting sight, especially when those green eyes moved to Spider. Being the ever-observant kid that he is, Spider's relaxing posture also stiffens under Ronal's gaze.

The tsahik must have seen how uncomfortable she was making the human boy as she turned away and expected the others to follow, "Come. We will take you to your new home."

Much like how she had to keep up with Ronal when first following her around the village, Kayla noticed how Spider was struggling to do the same. While she and Tonowari followed the tsahik in perfect stride, sprained ankle be damned, Spider was beginning to fall behind. It couldn't have been a coincidence. Kayla was beginning to wonder if this was a small test Ronal bestowed on every newcomer; to see if they were capable of keeping up with someone as busy as her. Perhaps only then would she consider them worthy of staying in her village. After noticing this, Kayla slowed her walk just enough so that Spider was always a tail length behind her, confident that even with smaller legs, he would at least keep pace with her.

On and on they walk until it feels as though they have gone through the entire village. Once Ronal began to slow down, so did Tonowari, and their destination became clear. To Kayla's surprise and approval, they chose a hut for her and Spider on the edge of the village, close to the line of trees leading into the jungle of the island, coincidentally the same route Kayla often took whenever she returned to her lonesome campsite. The hut was small and quaint, meant for a single Na'vi or a family of two. Stepping inside, it was clear that the marui hadn't been lived in for a while, but not like she was going to complain. She's lived in far worse conditions. This was a luxurious hotel compared to what she was used to back home.

"What do you think?" She asks Spider once he steps inside, "Not bad for your first official marui, right?"

He shrugs, "I tried making a kelku when I was a kid once."

"Oh? Was it better than this?"

"It was until the rain came through," he huffed out in a small laugh, "Lo'ak wouldn't let me live that down for a week. I was ten."

"Well, at least you know a bit of rain isn't taking this thing anywhere," Kayla sets down her things and pats the inside wall of the pod made of woven materials, smiling in encouragement, "And until we figure out what to do about... well, everything, think of this place as a way to get away from everyone and everything, alright?"

"Sure... but why?" Spider eyed her skeptically.

"Why not? Everyone needs their space. Especially you. This is a strange place full of strange people who haven't gotten the chance to get to know you yet. I had a campsite in the jungle for a while after coming here because I didn't like the stares," and with that, her eyes began to darken and she fixed him a look of warning, a clear hidden meaning behind her words, "I just want you to have a safe place to run to for anything while you're here, okay?"

He eyed her questionably, trying to grasp her meaning and feeling cold when he easily recognized the distrust in the woman's eyes... but it wasn't directed at him. He wasn't sure if he should feel comforted or concerned by the fact that Kayla didn't trust other Na'vi around him, "Alright... Thanks." He adds quickly as an afterthought.

Turning around, she steps back out into the world where she had left behind the Metkayina clan leaders. Ronal and Tonowari were facing away from the marui, looking out over their village and only turning back around when they heard Kayla approaching, pointedly pretending as though they hadn't overheard anything.

"What do you think? Is it to your liking?"

"It's wonderful. Thank you," Kayla, fortunately, doesn't appear suspicious, "I think we'll take a page out of my brother's book and stay low for the rest of the week, to get settled in and so on."

Ronal nodded and gave off the impression that she found this acceptable. In a way, gaining the tsahik's approval was rare for Kayla and it made her feel a little lighter, despite the circumstances.

Tonowari smiles in understanding, "I will have Tsireya bring you and the boy some food that should last you until then."

"You don't have--"

And just like that, Ronal's approval is suddenly replaced with the normal, stern expression Kayla was used to seeing on her. Within a moment, Kayla caved in and cleared her throat, "Thank you. That's very kind."

Tonowari's amusement was evident, even letting out a small exhale of a laugh while glancing between the two women after witnessing their silent exchange, "Trust me, Makayla te Suli. Just do what she says from now on and you'll forever be in her good graces."

Ronal's hand moved to rest on her husband's arm and Kayla watched as the tsahik's fingers squeezed ever so slightly, just enough for the olo'eyktan's ear to flick in his mate's direction but nothing more. Clearly, it was meant to act as a warning. Kayla recalled a phrase from back on Earth, tempted to comment "Happy wife, happy life," but she didn't think that'd be very appropriate. Instead, she remains silent and allows the clan leaders to walk away. She doesn't return to her new home until after they have disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~

She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep, and upon opening her eyes, she wasn't able to tell the time because it was still dark outside the marui. Kayla carefully moved around in her nivi until she was comfortable again, closing her eyes and hoping sleep would return to her, allowing herself to drift at the feeling of the hammock slowly rocking her. For a moment, she was met with blissful silence until a small injured sound filled the air. The sound that must have woken Kayla up in the first place. Her nose scrunched up before she opened her eyes again and lifted her head to look around, her ears twitching in all directions to locate the sound again.

Having night vision after a lifetime of having difficulty seeing in the dark was still an adjustment no matter how long she lived in this body. Once she wiped the sleep from her eyes, her sight cleared and everything became visible in the dark marui. She finds Spider's nivi immediately, on the other side of the pod, and to no one's surprise, it was where the small whimpers were coming from. Swiftly, Kayla got out of her hammock and purposely made her footsteps over to him louder than normal.

Spider easily woke up before she got to him, his heart hammering in his ears and breathing irregularly. He tried inhaling large gulps of air and once he got a good look at his surroundings, he curled in on himself and eyes Kayla in his peripheral vision.

Kayla steps up to the boy's nivi, whispering, "I'm sorry. You were having a nightmare. Figured you wouldn't want someone shaking you awake."

She was met with silence as the teen continued to focus on taking deep, calming breaths, his mask hissing in response. Kayla wished there was a way to calm him herself, and reached a hand out to do so, "Can I--"

Spider immediately retracts, skittish and determined to avoid her touch, avoiding eye contact. It would seem her instinct not to shake him awake was right and Kayla instantly pulled back her hand, ashamed, "Okay. I'm sorry, kiddo. Listen... whatever it is... or whatever it was, I promise I won't ask until you're ready to talk about it. But you're safe now. It won't happen again."

The same doubt from before returned to his face, and Kayla could only wish there was a way to get him to believe her.

~~~~~~~~~

Spider was less quiet than he had been as of late, but still more reserved than the boy she met when Jake first brought her to High Camp. That, and along with his nightmares, the female avatar was trying to pay closer attention to Spider to see if she could detect and hopefully help with whatever demons he had. From what she could tell so far, Spider bore the same symptoms as any old soldier in the military back home so it wasn't hard for Kayla to figure out what he'd need, but it was going to be a long, slow process. First, she needed the kid to trust her. Jake wasn't far off when he commented that Spider was like a stray cat once upon a time. In an attempt to earn his trust, Kayla was patient and made sure she included him in everything. If he accepted whatever she offered, she'd internally consider that a win.

The idea came from watching Tsireya interact with Spider. An unlikely duo, but Kayla could already see a blooming friendship between the two kind souls. The reef girl came to visit and bring Kayla and Spider some food as her parents promised, and even though she could've easily handed Kayla the basket and gone home, she didn't. Instead, she personally handed Spider the basket, gifting him a small, shy smile and a wave as if she was trying to be friendly but waiting to see if the human boy would respond positively to it. At first, Spider looked surprised that another Na'vi outside of the Sullys was even talking to him, then he looked skeptical, watching her closely and wondering if the reef girl had a motive behind her kind behavior. Then, as if remembering the trauma the two of them had been through together during the battle with the Sky People, Spider began to gently smile back and nodded in gratitude. Tsireya beamed as though she had won the lottery, at least, that's what Kayla would describe it. She highly doubts anyone on this island outside of Jake would know what a lottery was.

After Tsireya had gone home, Kayla formed a strategy in her head, a method as a means of getting Spider to trust her. Watching the chief's daughter cautiously approach Spider reminded Kayla of Jake's stray cat comment, and then she recalled what to do to gain a stray cat's trust. She gave Spider his space, she let him talk whenever he felt like and didn't force him otherwise. If he wanted to be alone, she happily gave him space and never tried to pry any time he woke from his nightmares. Even now, when she had asked him to help her properly weave an armband, she sat back and let Spider go through the familiar motions of creating such an intricate piece, sitting in silence and hoping she was creating a peaceful, comfortable space for him.

After the week of mourning was up, the Sullys began to move back out among the Metkayina again, now officially as part of the clan. One of the first things Jake and his kids decided to do once they felt well enough to leave their home was to walk through the village and visit Kayla's new hut to see how she and Spider were settling into their new surroundings. Tsireya had given Lo'ak directions on how to find the hut, and not before long, they had arrived.

Kayla was sitting just outside her marui and was intently watching the object in Spider's hands as he instructed her on how to properly weave an armband. Her ears twitched at the sound of footsteps approaching and when she looked up, her smile widened into pure glee at the sight of her nieces and nephew running over to them.

Standing up to meet the children, she held her arms out wide, "Welcome to our humble abode!"

The Sully kids quickly tackle Kayla and Spider, excited to see what their aunt's new kelku looks like. Even Spider smiled at their antics. Although it was faint, his fondness was still evident. Immediately, Lo'ak and Tuk drag Spider inside while Kiri calmly follows.

Jake steps up to the pod and lowly whistles, "Nice digs."

"Thanks," Kayla snorts while looking up at the kelku behind her, "I wasn't expecting much but this was... very generous."

"Hey. Don't sell yourself short. They know a hard worker when they see one," he pats his sister's arm until she swatted at him. It didn't bear any heat behind it, just playful sibling antics and it earned her a small chuckle out of him, "Listen-- I was wondering if you and Spider could do me a favor."

"Uh oh."

"Don't give me that. I'm thinking about taking Neytiri flying one of these nights. Once I figure it out, could I leave the kids here?"

"Of course. Just--" she fixes him a concerned look, "You guys aren't going over open water, right?"

"No, nothing like that," he waves her off while looking at the vast line of trees that welcomed him not far off from Kayla's marui, "Just around. Maybe see what that jungle has in store."

She nods with approval, "I found a waterfall while I was exploring in there once. There's a cave behind it with glowing algae."

"Really?"

"I would tell you where to find it..." Her smile slowly spread into a smirk, "But I don't exactly want you and Neytiri sullying such a pretty spot."

"You're no fun."

~~~~~~~~~

For nearly all week, Ronal and Tonowari have been debating with one another on what to do.

They had closely watched the way Kayla protected Spider and kept him close to either the Sully children or herself whenever they were out in public. The human child had never been seen wandering the village alone and perhaps that was for the better, for his safety and the Metkayina's peace of mind. The Sully children, especially Kiri and Lo'ak, clung to him like a baby would to its mother, terrified of being parted. After Tsireya came back home the day she brought Kayla and Spider food, she talked softly and sweetly about Spider, and how he seemed shy but kind. Both of her parents silently agreed with her. Their first real interaction with Spider was much of the same, with the boy showing his respective manners and keeping to himself. He hardly looked threatening, wearing that loincloth and songcord that not even Kayla was proud enough to wear. Her words continued to ring in Ronal's ears and the tsahik had no choice but to agree with her previous statement. 

Spider clearly looked as though he belonged among Na'vi. He appeared more accustomed than even Jake and Kayla combined. He was more Na'vi than the dreamwalkers that live among the Omatikaya, despite being small and pink.

He even bore painted blue stripes, making Spider more Na'vi than any Sky Person who claims to love and respect the People, and that thought only troubled Ronal more. She could see the same conflicted emotions on Tonowari's face as well, a strong olo'eyktan who had a difficult decision to make. Both clan leaders had discussed it in great detail. Over the months, they realized why teaching Kayla their ways didn't feel like a hardship, and why they often sought her out even when they didn't need help. They had talked adamantly to one another, as leaders and as mates, what this meant for them and their families. At first, neither of them wanted to say anything, let alone to each other, in case this feeling wasn't mutual. When they finally came to the conclusion that they both felt the same, Ronal and Tonowari agreed that they couldn't ignore this conflicting emotion. They needed to act on it... but as a team.

Even they had to admit that accepting the Sullys as part of the clan wasn't without a hidden motive. Yes, Toruk Makto's son lies with their ancestors now and after everything the Sully family has been through, they deserved a home and a place among the Metkayina. But neither Ronal nor Tonowari could ignore that the real, hidden reason behind allowing the Sullys to stay stemmed from the desire of wishing for Makayla te Suli to stay.

It was late into the afternoon one day when Tsireya and Ao'nung informed their parents that they were going to go see the Sully children. The clan leaders were more than happy to see them off if only to talk among themselves. They had much to discuss.

Both clan leaders talked well into the evening, sharing their thoughts and feelings on the matter. They didn't feel the need to share tsaheylu when they were already so open and honest with one another. They both have come to the agreement that if they truly wanted Kayla to become Metkayina... and get to know her more than just someone who intends to live among their people, then they would have to accept Spider as well.

The tsahik and olo'eyktan had talked for a considerable amount of hours, and when it was time for their children to return, they decided to drop the subject in exchange for searching for their offspring. Their first instinct was to go to the Sully marui only to find that no one was home. Neither Ronal nor Tonowari thought anything of it, chalking the missing children up to mean that they had gone into the jungle to explore. It wouldn't be the first time Tsireya or Rotxo wanted to show the Sully children something from their island, and Ao'nung is usually along for the ride.

Tonowari and Ronal return home and wait. When their children finally returned, Ronal was quick to interrogate them,

"Tsireya, Ao'nung. Where were you this evening?"

The girl tilted her head at her parents, confused but answering the question nonetheless, "With the Sullys, sa'nok."

Ao'nung scoffed, "Like we said."

Tonowari cleared his throat and eyed his son down for the back-talk, further explaining what his wife was trying to relay to their children, "You were not at their marui."

Realization dawned on Tsireya as she finally understood why her parents were worried and immediately explained, "We were at Makayla te Suli's. She was watching the children while their parents were away."

"Away?" Ronal echoed the word, "Where did they go?"

"Something called a 'date night?'"

~~~~~~~~~

"What is a date night?"

Kayla peered up from sharpening her knife, eyes wide like she was a deer caught in headlights, "Huh?"

Not her most intellectual response, but no one could blame her when the tsahik of the Metkayina was asking her a question that threw her for a loop. Ronal raises an eyebrow at her reply, stagnant and waiting almost impatiently for an answer. When Kayla was still too stunned to reply, Ronal huffs slightly and specifies,

"My daughter spoke of Jakesully and his mate going on a date night while you watched their children."

"Oh. That," Kayla shrugged while returning back to her work, "It's basically just time with each other without any of the kids bothering them."

"Do they not think their children are old enough to look after themselves?"

A subtle cloud shifts in Kayla's gaze, darkening her features as her mind begins to drift away, "Past events point to no. Those kids are trouble magnets, and to be honest, after everything they've been through, I wouldn't want them to have the responsibility of looking after each other. I want them to be kids just a little bit longer. They've earned it."

Ronal nodded although Kayla wasn't looking. The avatar was busying herself with testing the sharpness of her knife before digging it into a hunk of driftwood she had fetched from the pocket of her shorts. The tsahik watched her oddly for a time, only speaking up again when Kayla was starting to get frustrated with the item in her hands, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to carve this stupid--" Kayla quickly paused and cleared her throat, "This ridiculous little thing for my songcord."

"Do you have a waytelem?"

Kayla detected the genuine surprise in her voice and chose to indulge her, "A small one." 

She digs a hand into one of the pockets of her shorts and pulls her interpretation of a songcord out, letting it go so it dangled from the belt loop she had tied the unfinished end through.

Ronal stared oddly at the item, "It is the size of a child's."

The avatar woman's ears lower to express her embarrassment, "Technically, I haven't finished my Rite of Passage with the Omatikaya so I'm still considered a child. The tsahik of the Omatikaya helped me get it started, but I don't really know what could be considered significant enough to add onto it."

"What is that?" One turquoise finger points to the object woven into the very end of Kayla's songcord.

"A compass. The Sky People use it to navigate. I use it to signify my past life as a marine--" she further explained when Ronal glanced back up at her with the question in her eyes, "Uh, a warrior."

"And this?" The reef woman steps closer and Kayla's skin begins to prickle in the close vicinity she and Ronal now shared. The tsahik had boldly stood directly in front of the vrrtep she once felt indifference to, or maybe she wasn't being bold but lacked personal space. Either way, Kayla was now very much aware of the heat radiating off the other woman's body, brushing the hairs on the avatar's skin. When she finally managed to register Ronal's question, she glanced down to see what else the tsahik was pointing at on her songcord. 

Kayla swallowed the dryness in her throat as she answered, "A piece of gear from my brother Tommy's wristwatch. It's a... it's a device we use to tell the time of day and night."

Ronal doesn't miss the way Kayla's voice appeared to tighten when she echoed a strange name that only the Sky People would name a child and decided not to acknowledge it. Instead, she focuses on the piece of driftwood in Kayla's hand that she was trying to whittle for the waytelem.

"And what is that meant to represent?"

Kayla's eyes don't meet Ronal's as her fingers protectively wrap around the small item, muttering under her breath, "Neteyam."

Water lapping along the beach and children's laughter in the distance fills whatever silence settles between the two women. Ronal pointedly keeps her head bowed out of respect at the very mention of the young life lost to the sea, while also doing her best to respect Kayla's privacy. Internally, the alien woman was thankful for this, thankful that out of all of the things Ronal tended to pry on, this wasn't one of them. Kayla takes a moment to compose herself, inhaling a deep breath of air through her stomach, all the while staring down at the driftwood she now gently grazed with her thumb. She doesn't linger for long after that, exhaling quickly and rolling her shoulders to indicate her small moment of sadness had passed, faintly smiling up at the tsahik beside her, 

"I'm trying to make a bead out of it. But cutting and smoothing it down is tougher than it looks."

Ronal straightened her own posture and quickly moved onto the topic Kayla was using as a distraction without any other thoughts, "I will help with your songcord."

"You don't have--" Quickly, she corrects herself when Ronal raises one eyebrow in defiance. Kayla simply nods, "Thank you."

Without another word of acknowledgment, Ronal bends down and fiddles with her skirt. Kayla watches curiously as the reef woman swiftly clips off a shell from her clothing without ripping the delicate, beautiful handiwork. The shell looked so tiny in the palm of Ronal's hand as she held it out to Makayla as an offering, her face impassive when Kayla glanced up for permission or reassurance. Ronal only nods once, "To resemble your acceptance into our clan."

Shock dawns over Kayla's reaction until it melts into something gentle; something sweet. Ronal forces the muscles in her face to remain expressionless as gratitude radiates off Kayla's growing smile. The avatar silently takes the shell from her, and together they kneel to the ground and get to work on perfecting Kayla's songcord, Ronal keeping an eye on the way Kayla shifted her weight around on her foot, but otherwise remaining silent. Kayla no longer had a bandage around her ankle, and she appeared not to notice any pain, so the tsahik internally deduced that the avatar was on the mend and left it at that.

 For the most part, they worked in silence until Ronal would voice her opinion or instruction on how Kayla should weave the pieces together. Using the tsahik and the advice Spider had given her earlier, the Sully woman managed to perfect the wooden bead and incorporate it into the waytelem before moving on to the shell.

As she worked, she stubbornly ignored Ronal's eyes practically branding onto her skin, making themselves at home there and never once diverting their attention elsewhere. Kayla's skin prickled under the other woman's gaze, and her stomach flipped whenever her eyes glanced up and met hers. It was hard to describe how she felt about the unwavering stare Ronal must have mastered over the years, and even harder to describe how she felt with those eyes on her. Kayla knows how it feels when she's uncomfortable or intimidated... but this wasn't it. She didn't feel either of those things around Ronal, at least not anymore, so whatever she was feeling, it wasn't bad. It only bothered her that she couldn't properly explain it, not even to herself.

Once Kayla was tightening the last bit of thread around the shell and securing it into her songcord, Ronal hummed in approval, straightening her aching back when it was getting too irritated from hovering over the alien woman as she worked. Kayla looked up, beaming under the tsahik's approval before handing the waytelem over to her.

The only evidence to prove Ronal was shocked by this behavior was the small rise of her brow ridge and quick twitch in her ears. The tsahik eyed Kayla carefully with the new item in hand, looking to see if there was any distrust or plan behind this exchange. Kayla only kept still and stared back, her eyes glancing down at the songcord she had given Ronal before flicking back up to meet hers, motioning for the tsahik to inspect the item more closely. Ronal hesitantly looked away as her thumb grazed over the songcord, feeling each bead, each thread, and even the odd, alien-made objects Kayla insisted on adding. The grooves on the object Kayla had called a gear were strange but interesting. Ronal found herself continuously running her thumb over it, just to feel the divets and smoothness of the small piece of metal. 

"Have you created a song to go with it?" She asked without looking up from the songcord.

"It's a work in progress. I can easily list off each bead and milestone like a story... but turning it into lyrics is difficult for me. I don't sing let alone make my own songs."

Ronal nodded and finally handed the songcord back to its owner, her stomach warm from having the honor to hold and touch the other woman's life story quite literally in her own hands. Perhaps the gesture was what pushed her boldness forward once more, opening her mouth before she could think, "Tonowari and I have been discussing and we want to offer you some peace of mind."

Kayla's eyebrows furrow, "Oh?"

"Yes. Tonight. At eclipse. We will take you to Ranteng Utralti ourselves."

"The Spirit Tree?" Kayla repeated with a small burst of suspicion, tilting her head, "... Why?"

Ronal thinks back to that tragic day when she watched the Sully family bury their child, brother, and nephew. She recalled the concern she felt when she watched Jakesully and his mate dive into the water to connect to the Spirit Tree, but Kayla hadn't followed. She remained behind with Spider and Kiri, and while Ronal didn't have the means to help the human boy and Sully girl connect with Eywa to see their departed brother and friend, Ronal hoped she could still provide Makayla some form of closure, 

"You deserve the same respect as any member of your nephew's family does. You have the right to see him one last time."

~~~~~~~~~

After accepting Ronal's invitation, Kayla first went looking for Kiri, Lo'ak, and Spider. She easily spotted the three teenagers kneeling just on the edge of a rock edge, the water of the lagoon gently rising and falling beneath them as the tide came in, brushing over the rock now padded with soft, comfortable algae. As Kayla approached, she could faintly hear Lo'ak's voice over the wind, and while she couldn't make out any full sentences, she was able to understand enough to know that he was likely teaching Spider a few simple lessons about some of the aquatic life around the reef. As long as Spider was safe behind his breathing mask, he didn't need to learn how to hold his breath underwater, so Kiri and Lo'ak felt more determined to teach their friend everything else they had learned while living among the Metkayina. Already, Spider was showing signs of adapting to this new life, and it wasn't much of a surprise. Spider was clearly a good listener, intent on grasping on to any new information that fascinated him. It was an even sweeter lesson to have his best friends be his teachers so they could make up for lost time.

As Kayla drew closer, she raised her voice enough to call out to the three children, "Kiri."

All three heads perked up at her voice but only Kiri responded when Kayla had motioned her to come closer. Kiri broke away from Lo'ak and Spider, the boys' attention falling back to the water while the teenage girl approached her aunt, "Yes, Auntie?"

Kayla shyly smiled down at her, "Could you and Lo'ak do me a favor and stay with Spider in my pod tonight?"

Excitement beamed from Kiri's smile, "It sounds like fun. But where will you be?" The excitement suddenly dropped and sadness took its place, her ears lowering into her nest of wild hair, "You're not leaving yet, are you?"

Kayla paused to choose her next words carefully. She didn't want to lie to the girl, but she also didn't want Kiri to know she was going to the Spirit Tree, knowing that it would make her sad or possibly jealous-- if the teenager even felt such an emotion. She shook her head, "No, not yet. The tsahik and olo'eyktan wish to show me something."

Even Kayla could admit that it wasn't the smartest or most eloquent choice of words, and her embarrassment only grew when a small, mischievous smile dawned on Kiri's face, "Are you having a date night, too?"

"That is NOT what I said."

~~~~~~~~~

Nervous flutters began to turn in her stomach when Kayla walked down the beach that night to find Tonowari and Ronal already there, waiting for her. The beach was quiet apart from the glowing waves gently crashing into the sand, kissing the legs of the clan leaders as they stood knee-deep in the water. Kayla took a deep breath and stepped into the ocean, letting the water rise up to her as she sunk in deeper. The anticipation and dread of going to the Spirit Tree drove Kayla to pick at her nails until she had an ilu beneath her, and then she was able to distract herself by hanging on.  

The tsahik and olo'eyktan lead the way upon their separate ilu, and Kayla makes sure not to fall behind. The journey was quicker than she remembered on the day they said goodbye to Neteyam, but she chalked it up to being a horrible day overall. By the time she wrapped her head around the fact that she would actually get to see Neteyam again, the three adults had already arrived at the Cove of the Ancestors, and then a small bit of fear began to fester and squeeze Kayla's heart.

Ronal and Tonowari slip off their ilu, so Kayla follows suit, slowly swimming just at the surface of the ocean, her head above water, and treading over to the Metkayina pair. Looking down, she can see her slow, kicking feet, morphed from the water and keeping her upright. Beneath her feet, however, was the beautiful, swaying, bioluminescent Spirit Tree. Ranteng Utralti.

Ronal swims up to Kayla as the avatar woman marvels at the sight below her, "Remember. Once you are connected, you will not have to worry about holding your breath. The Spirit Tree provides air as you connect with our ancestors."

"The connection can sometimes feel intense or shocking once you break away, causing you to forget the need to hold your breath," Tonowari nodded with encouragement, gently urging her forward with just his eyes, "We will watch over you if that happens."

Kayla looks between the two and nods, taking a moment to collect herself and suck in a large gulp of air before vanishing beneath the water. As she dives down to the Spirit Tree, she begins to get nervous, her heart wanting to leap up into her throat. A small bit of comfort washed over her, knowing that Ronal and Tonowari kept a vigil watch from above while she connected to a tendril of the tree. Taking her kuru braid and connecting the tswin to the nearest branch held out to her, Kayla relaxed and closed her eyes.

The moment she opened them again, she found herself sitting on the floor of High Camp, miles away from the Cove and from the Metkayina village. Confusion wrapped around her brain as she looked around, wondering what she was doing there. She was alone, watching everyone, both human and Na'vi, go about their day as normal, the cold floor of the cave bleeding into her legs. She heard shuffling just beyond her vision, and when she turned her head to look directly in front of her, the breath in her stomach clenched and burned upon the sight she found.

It was Neteyam, young and as strong as ever. The beads in his hair softly clinked together when his head moved, his cummerbund snug around his torso, and above all else... not a speck of blood on him. He sat cross-legged as she did, across from her, smiling with encouragement. He was in the middle of talking when Kayla had finally begun to focus on his voice, 

"--Now, let's try a K word. Kewong."

For a moment, words had escaped her, Kayla's brain still having trouble trying to comprehend her dead nephew sitting right in front of her. When she replayed his words in her head, she realized why they sounded familiar. This was a memory, one of the first ones she shared with Neteyam when she arrived in Pandora. She remembered that he took time out of his day to mentor her one-on-one, teaching her how to speak Na'vi.

Without another thought, she responded the same way she did back then, "Ketwong."

"Mm, try again. Ketuwong." He repeats.

"Ketuwong."

"No. Listen closely. Ke-"

"Ke-"

"Wong-"

"Wong-!" Kayla stammered as she noticed something, "Wait, no, you definitely said ketuwong before."

"I did no such thing, Auntie. I said kewong."

"Kewong."

"No. Ketuwong."

She snarls, with little to no heat, "Kid, I am five seconds away from pulling your tail out of its joint socket--"

He laughed, loud and genuine, one of his hands clutching his side while using the other to wave off her frustration. Eventually, he calmed down enough to speak, "Alright, alright. You are right. I was saying both to tease you. But they both mean the same thing."

"Oh." She paused, then tilted her head, "Why do you have two words that mean the same thing?"

"I could say the same thing about your language," Neteyam smirked. Kayla stopped and took a moment to find a rebuttal, but couldn't, then made a touché motion with her shoulders. Neteyam continued to explain, "I believe Norm calls them adjectives and nouns."

"Oh."

"Yes. Ketuwong is the noun and kewong is the adjective."

"What do they mean?"

"'Alien.'"

Kayla stiffened, "Oh."

Something shifts in Neteyam's features, something Kayla hadn't noticed the first time she lived through this moment. He watched her closely, carefully, before moving on with the lesson as if trying to distract her. Perhaps she first mistook the expression for pity, but now, after getting to know her oldest nephew, Kayla could see that Neteyam felt compassion and sympathy, understanding that his aunt struggled with feeling indifferent to him and the people around him. 

"Let's move on. I'll say a phrase you'll likely hear in passing. 'Ma sempul tsmuke.'"

"I recognize sempul. That's 'father', right?" She mimicked the tone of voice she made back then, fully immersed in the memory now. 

"Yes. What I said can be translated to 'my father's sister.' We don't have a word for 'aunt' so that's how we would properly address or introduce you."

She shrugged while her eyes focused down at her fingers, much different from Neteyam's hand, "You could technically say 'ma sempul kewong tsmuke.'"

"'My father's alien sister?'" He translated, testing the words on his tongue before shaking his head, allowing his braids to spill over his shoulders, "That is a lot to say, and it wouldn't be truthful."

"Wouldn't it?"

"No, because you are a Suli," he firmly states with an encouraging smile, "You look different, but we share the same blood. You're no less of an alien than the rest of us. Besides, at the rate you are learning, you will be Omatikaya sooner than later, and then you will truly be one of us. You'll be less of an alien by then. The point is, how can you be alien when you are family?"

Warmth blooms in Kayla's chest, remembering this moment as the moment she first began to See her nephew and grow fond of her brother's children, whom she had once felt so estranged to. It was odd looking back and thinking how she ever felt alien to them in the first place. There were times when she had forgotten that she hadn't known these children their whole lives, but sometimes it felt like she had. 

"You're wiser than you let on, did you know that?" She smiled.

"And what is the Na'vi word for 'wise', Auntie?"

"Hafyonga'."

"Good." He nods in approval, smiling back, "You are wise, too."

She hesitates, not wanting to break the script, but also wishing to say the things she wished she had said when Neteyam was still alive. This was the moment she dreaded when she realized Ronal and Tonowari wanted to bring her here, knowing she needed to do this to say goodbye. 

When she opened her mouth again, the words that came out were not the ones she originally said in the memory, "... I wish there was a word for 'nephew.'"

"Why?" He tilts his head with curiosity, unaware of the change in memory and script.

"So I can say 'I love you, nephew' in Na'vi."

"Do not worry," he comforts gently, "We'll find a way. We have a lot of time to figure it out."

Even if he didn't know it, his words were such a dreadful reminder of all the time they had lost. Kayla's heart was beginning to break, tears welling up in her eyes and cutting through her cheeks, the walls she had built to keep her grief out finally caving in. Her voice remained strong, however, forcing herself to speak clear sentences to make sure her nephew heard them,

"I wish we did, 'Teyam. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"Auntie?"

"Nga yawne lu oer."

She pulls away from the memory, away from Neteyam, afraid that if she reached out to hug him, it wouldn't be the same as if he were actually alive. She couldn't put herself through that pain, knowing her brother and Neytiri would have to feel it every day for the rest of their lives. Neteyam's face vanishes, as does High Camp and the people around them. Everything shrinks until it becomes one tunnel of light, and then Kayla is back to reality, struggling for air as her tswin disconnects from the Spirit Tree.

Immediately, she panics, disoriented and trying to figure out where she is and why she can't breathe. Two arms, both ranging in different lengths and sizes, appear in her blurry vision, reaching to grab both of her own and drag her up through the water. Faintly, Kayla realized she was being led back up to the surface, and the thought of air being just out of reach made her lungs burn. Looking up, she faintly made out the shapes that were Tonowari and Ronal, and just as her head broke through the surface, she remembered where she was and who she was with, but it hardly mattered.

When she broke the surface, Kayla found herself uncontrollably sobbing, quickly reminding herself to kick and move her arms and legs to swim by herself, but otherwise kept sobbing. 

Her two companions immediately swam close to inspect her, but she couldn't find it within herself to care. Both of the clan leaders were in shock by the state of the avatar woman. She was crying, tears running down her already wet cheeks, the ocean rising to gently caress her chin in comfort as she kept herself afloat just above the surface. Ronal and Tonowari watch her with concern, letting her weep as the grief finally bled out. The three stayed that way for a while, keeping themselves afloat above water, close in a circle with no sounds other than the ocean and Kayla's cries. As her sobs slowed to a stop, Kayla finally blinked and began looking around, occasionally sniffling as her bright pink-rimmed eyes scanned her surroundings. Her eyebrow hairs furrowed together, wrinkling her forehead, bottom lip trembling from the waves of emotion that just washed through her. 

Tonowari noted in the back of his mind how young and innocent she looked like this... and yet she still looked as hard-ridden and stonewalled as ever. Simply put, Kayla looked miserable. She looked like someone who had seen war, death, and disease and her heart had been hardened by it. She looked like someone who kept her emotions close and private until it had suddenly become unbearable, the volcano erupting and bearing down everything she had kept bottled up inside. Tonowari spared a moment to glance over at Ronal, to which she did the same and he could clearly see through her eyes that his mate was thinking the same thing. 

Once Kayla managed to catch her breath, she croaked to the clan leaders swimming in front of her, "Thank you."

Tonowari felt one of his hands twitch when the idea to reach out to Kayla struck him, but immediately stamped down the thought in exchange for equally comforting words, "Did it help?"

"I-- I think so." She stammered, reaching her hands up to wipe away the grief from her closed eyes, exhaling loudly when the cool water brought a bit of relief to her hot, puffy face.

They swim to the nearest surface to allow Kayla to rest and get a hold of herself, finding a small hill of rock and grass that had not yet evolved into one of the floating mountains hovering above their heads. Kayla looked younger once more with the way she curled her knees up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs as her eyes watched the water beneath her, distracted and far away in her head.

"They don't have that back home," she finally said, drawing her companions to look up and patiently wait for her to continue, "On Earth... there's no way for the Sky People to reach out to our loved ones after they're gone. They're just... gone. Forever. I wanted to treat Neteyam the same way. It's just what I'm used to. I thought if I treated Neteyam as though I was never going to see him again as someone would back on Earth, it would hurt less."

Ronal's nose scrunched up, confused and affronted by the idea of life in another world, "How do you learn your history if you can not speak with your ancestors?"

"You guys record history through songcords, all the good and bad. You say nothing but the truth without leaving anything out so that the Na'vi can learn from past mistakes."

Something shifts in her eyes then, the way Kayla's glare practically burns through a spot in the water as if she was trying to evaporate it to teach the ocean a lesson. Her words are full of distaste, "The Sky People write down their history, but... sometimes, they don't write it down truthfully. The Sky People lie and sometimes purposefully erase our history, so they can just continue to form our world the way they want it and just repeat our mistakes all over again. Eventually, children stopped learning about our history in school.... and now we learn nothing except how to become one mind and machine. The Sky People don't want us to think for ourselves anymore. It makes us more compliant."

"That is horrible," Ronal hisses in horror and revulsion, "A horrible way to live."

Kayla simply scoffs, resigned to it all, "Sky People don't know how to live. They just know how to manage."

Tonowari's frown went unnoticed by the two women during their conversation, so he didn't feel the need to hide it, especially when he was in agreeance with his mate. He also felt pity for Kayla, thinking about the world she grew up in without any means of contacting your loved ones from beyond the grave. It made him wonder just how many people Kayla and Jakesully lost that they will never be able to speak to again, "Do you have anyone from your home world you wish you could talk to beyond the grave?"

Kayla didn't even appear to think about it, her hand traveling down to her songcord and gently fondling the gear she had woven into it, "Tommy. My other brother. Jake's twin." 

"I wasn't aware Jakesully had a twin brother." Tonowari comments.

"He died long before Jake ever came here with the Sky People. I wish... if Tommy had to die, I wish he had gone to Eywa so that I could talk to him."

Ronal leans forward and places a hand on the other woman's shoulder, "We believe that we are all born twice."

"Yeah, I know. It just wouldn't be the same." 

The comment hangs heavy with the clan leaders, struck by Kayla's words as if she had slapped them, but they didn't appear offended. They looked at her as if they were seeing something new and astonishing for the first time like someone had just told them a new story. Looking at one another, both Ronal and Tonowari realize they are both thinking the same thing. The way Kayla thinks and looks at their way of life is a way they hadn't thought of before.

Kayla didn't appear to notice the crisis going through her clan leaders' minds as she suddenly registered Ronal's hand on her shoulder. Gently brushing the tsahik off, Kayla gets up and looks to the ocean, clearly indicating the end of one conversation and the start of departure, "Thank you for this. Truly. You didn't have to, but you did."

Tonowari breaks from Ronal's gaze and nods, "We wanted to."

"We want you to feel at home here." Ronal quickly adds to her husband's sentiment.

Kayla tilts her head and squints her eyes back down at the other woman, suspicious again, "Even though I--"

"You are not of the Sky People anymore. Even if you looked like them, you think differently."

"I do look like them. I'm a dreamwalker," the avatar reminds them, "When I go to sleep and cut off my connection, I'm taken back to the body I was born in. My 'demon' body."

"And when you are back in that body, do you suddenly think differently?" Ronal asked.

"Well-- no." Kayla backtracked a little, humming when a thought crossed her mind, "Although, I do think about how hungry I am as a human compared to a Na'vi."

She smiles to herself, proud when she gets Tonowari to laugh and Ronal to pull a small smile. The tsahik continues once more, "Then you are still not of the Sky People. You may have different bodies. But you have the same heart and mind." 

Kayla wanted to scoff and ask the tsahik and olo'eyktan if they wanted to tell Neytiri that in defense of Spider, but she thought wisely against it and bit her tongue, only smiling and nodding at the pair in gratitude.

Tonowari stood up next, extending an arm out to the ocean, "Let us accompany you home."

Kayla accepts and assists Tonowari with helping Ronal stand up, and then the three return to the ocean. Once on her ilu and swimming away, Kayla only spared one glance back at the Cove, refraining from waving as she parted from the Spirit Tree and from Neteyam. Looking ahead once more, she felt lighter for the first time in what felt like weeks, less worried about what the future holds, and more willing to just go where the current takes her.

A/N: Okay, so here's the deal. I preordered Frontiers of Pandora and I have it, but I haven't been able to play it in between holiday gatherings, events, and two jobs. So I thought I'd quickly update this fic and use it as an announcement. I plan on taking a short hiatus so I can play to my heart's content along with Baldur's Gate 3 since that is a game I use to connect and hang out with my friends and I'd like to hang out with them for the holidays. I hope to have more free time after the new year starts.

In the meantime, feel free to continue asking non-spoiler questions about the fic and I will be more than happy to answer!

Please keep checking my pinned post for updates/announcements and dm/inbox me for taglist or requests!

ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, virgin!reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, some mild second-hand embarrassment perhaps, sex toys, edging, failed masturbation attempts, ghost takes your virginity and also maybe ruins you for literally anybody else ever again

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reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The ceiling over your head is drab grey and water-stained, the old paint peeling away in strips. It’s an ugly sight, but you barely see it; you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

The sheets beneath you are uncomfortably damp with your sweat, but you don’t have the energy to roll over just yet. You feel hot and itchy with frustration, and you scowl up at the ceiling above you as your fingers curl into fists. But even though you feel like laying in your now grubby-bedding for the rest of the evening, you can’t let yourself wallow. There’s going to be a knock on your door any minute, and this is not a position you want to be found in.

With an irritable groan, you haul yourself off the bed and to your feet. Your muscles ache and you feel too warm, but you reach for your clothes anyway. The worn cotton of your shirt feels scratchy against your skin, but maybe that’s just because you’re still over-sensitive and irritable.

You can never quite bear to look at the aftermath of what you’d been doing, so you avert your eyes as you gather up the bright silicone and plastic devices littering your mattress. It’s embarrassing now that the adrenaline has worn off and disappointment is beginning to set in, so you end up gathering them all up more roughly than necessary.

The term ‘toy’ seems incongruous to you. It sounds too childish, too immature. It makes you sound like a stupid kid, as though you aren’t a young adult past twenty fumbling your way through sexual self-exploration. It’s embarrassing, and much more frustrating than you ever would have predicted – despite all of your clumsy, desperate attempts at pleasuring yourself, you’ve never quite managed to reach that peak of pleasure you’ve heard other people talking about.

You grumble quietly to yourself as you try to wipe away the sticky lube that’s still coating your thighs. Your muscles are a little achy from all the tensing you’d been doing trying to come with that stupid vibrator, not even accompanied by the satisfaction you had been hoping for.

It’s not as though you’ve never gotten the opportunity to experiment with others; you’re not unforgivably ugly, you don’t think you have a bad personality, and for the past few years you’ve been surrounded by military men that certainly aren’t known for being picky. And it certainly isn’t like you haven’t received your fair share of offers. 

It just never seemed right. You’re not overly concerned about ‘saving’ your virginity or anything like that; it’s just that putting yourself into such a vulnerable position is scary. You’re aware of the irony, of course, that you’d trust many of these people with saving your ass from catching a bullet in the field, but allowing someone to see you so intimately feels like a step too far.

You’re still sweaty and flustered and naked when a knock sounds from your door, and you freeze. The doorknob turns, but doesn’t open; in that moment, you’re deliriously grateful that you had turned the lock – it’s something that you’ve forgotten to do on far too many occasions.

“Lass, you in there?” Oh god, it’s Soap. 

Cursing quietly to yourself, you jolt into action. Your pants are crumpled at the bottom of your bed where you had shed them, and you hurriedly gather them up and struggle your way back into them.

“Gimme a minute!” You yell, praying he doesn’t notice the somewhat frantic edge to your voice.

You stagger slightly as you worm your way into your pants, and then lunge to grab the stupid dildo you’d just been trying to use. You feel your skin prickle with humiliation as you try to force the stupidly large silicone cock into your already full underwear drawer, jamming it shut roughly to hide it from sight. You don’t want to even imagine what Soap might have to say if he were to see what you had been doing; you think you might have to go full deserter mode and abscond into the wilderness.

“Did ye forget about drinks?” Soap’s drawl carries through the thickness of the door. He doesn’t sound even slightly put out – if anything, he sounds a little amused.

You pause, close your eyes, sigh. Fuck. You had not, in fact, forgotten about drinks, you just thought you had more time.

“No, I– just a minute!” You yell back, shoving your shoes on and trying to fix your hair.

You had completely lost track of time, and now you don’t even have time to rinse your sweat-damp skin off – you’re going to have to sit through drinks with the squad all grimy, like a physical reminder of what you had been up to for the last two hours.

When you finally unlock the door and wrench it open, Soap is standing on the other side tapping a staccato rhythm on his thighs with his open palms. He’s dressed casually in just blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he gives you a look of semi-disbelief.

“What the hell were you—”

“Gym.” You interrupt, landing on the only explanation you can think of for your sweaty skin and messy hair.

Soap blinks, but apparently decides it’s not worth the effort to continue that line of conversation. He just shrugs, then turns and starts making his way down the hall, slowing his pace for you to catch up.

You exhale; Soap can be like a bloodhound when he suspects there’s gossip to be had, and you’re relieved to have dodged a round of his relentless questioning. You suppose he can be surprisingly tactful sometimes, and he knows you well enough not to press you. Or, perhaps it’s because you come across as such a non-sexual being that  it doesn’t even occur to him that there may be another explanation.

There’s an unofficial tradition that when the squad is on base, everyone gathers in the sparsely decorated recreation room for drinks and card games on Thursday evenings. It usually makes for an enjoyable night; Gaz and Soap can always be trusted to supply whatever bottles of alcohol they’ve managed to get their grubby little hands on, and it’s always amusing to watch Captain Price get increasingly more irate as Soap pretends not to understand the rules of whatever card game they’re playing. The whole illicitness of having contraband on base only makes the whole thing more exciting; the CO’s on base often turn a blind eye to the activity, so long as it’s kept under control.

But tonight, you’re distracted.

The others had offered a bit of good-natured ribbing when you and Soap had turned up late, but before long you’re all settled in a loose circle on the poorly-stuffed couches in the corner of the room. Gaz has already unstoppered a bottle of bourbon, and is attempting to convince a visibly unimpressed Price to play a game of Kings with them. You curl up on one of the worn-out couches opposite them, watching with a small if slightly stiff smile.

The atmosphere is relaxed and pleasant, almost enough to make you forget about the irritating buzz of unfulfilled arousal under your skin. You shift, trying to keep your movements small, subtle, to avoid the notice of your team. Your denim jeans are nowhere near as comfortable as usual, and you wonder briefly if you should have simply worn your cargo pants just to avoid the harsh friction of the denim.

You sit there feeling… unmoored. You fidget, drink your smooth bourbon in sips in an attempt to avoid wincing, and try not to look as obviously out of place as you feel. It’s been like this, recently. Joining the task force has been an accomplishment for you, a source of immense pride – you’re the youngest member (just narrowly beating Gaz for the title) and a woman to boot, and though the squad has never treated you any differently it’s hard to kick the belief that you have something to prove. 

You engage in conversations the best you can, but you’re distracted and you know it must be obvious. Your preoccupation gets you a couple of furrowed brows and glances, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to give you some space.

You don’t even realise the extent of your distraction until a big body settles down on the loveseat next to you, and you jolt. True to his name, Ghost had appeared near silently, escaping your notice until he lowers himself down to sit next to you.

And damn, you forget how big he is sometimes. It’s an average sized loveseat, but the lieutenant takes up over half of it. He’s obviously being mindful not to consciously crush you, but he’s not being overly cautious when it comes to avoiding touching you. He’s dressed unusually casually, and his thick, muscled thigh is wrapped in blue denim as it presses carelessly against yours. 

“You alright?” He asks, his voice low and smooth as he nudges your knee with one of his big knuckles.

You haven’t been a member of the task force for long, but you would know Simon Riley by his hands alone, by the earthy salt-spice in your nose as he leans a little closer to peer at your face. You tilt your head up, unable to stop the small reflexive smile that breaks over your face at the sight of him.

“Yeah.” You breathe, hurriedly straightening up where you’re sitting. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

His sudden proximity isn’t doing your current state any favours, and you take a quick sip of your drink in an effort to collect yourself. It’s taking a herculean effort not to stare at the way his biceps are bulging against the straining material of his black cotton t-shirt.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ghost asks as he stretches out his legs with a tired groan. The sound is gruff and gravelly, and you feel blood rush uncomfortably to your cheeks. 

“Nothing.” You say quickly.

He doesn’t believe you, that much is obvious, but Ghost never pushes and he rarely speaks more than he has to. He just gives you a glance, brief and knowing and far more penetrating than it should be, before turning his head back so he can watch the boys playing their card game. He’s holding a crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquid, but he hasn’t yet pulled his mask up to drink from it.

Your eyes drop to the thick, pale scars that mar the backs of his hands. You trace the path of the scar tissue, eyes lingering around the thick knuckles and broad palms, the way that he holds the glass so casually confidently. He’s got nice hands, probably made all the more attractive by the fact that you hardly ever get to see them. Seeing Ghost without his usual long sleeves and gloves makes you feel like a Victorian pervert snatching stolen glances at a passing lady’s ankles.

A quiet snicker causes your eyes to dart back to his face, and you’re mortified to find that he’s caught you staring.

“What’s got you in such a mood?” He asks. Even through the mask you can tell that he’s smirking, though it doesn’t feel as though he’s making fun of you.

“Just one of those days, I guess.” You say without meeting his eyes.

It’s an evasion at best, but Ghost nods ponderously as though he’s giving this great thought. His stare is penetrating, those big brown eyes watching you as though he can see right through you. Maybe he can. You try not to get too caught up staring at his pale eyelashes, darkened by smears of eyeblack.

“Did something happen?” He asks. The question is casual enough, asked as he lazily swirls his whiskey around in his glass, but his gaze is sharp and assessing.

“No.” You sigh, finally looking properly at him.

It’s a little frustrating, but the squad has been like this with you from the start – protective. Your whole military career has consisted of you veritably clawing your way up through the ranks, and you’ve been surrounded by coarse, gruff men that have underestimated you all your life. 141 is different – they don’t baby you, but the way they treat you is unmistakably softer than how they typically treat each other. The concern can be touching, if a little tiring sometimes.

And maybe it’s because he’s your lieutenant, but Ghost’s attention has always been just this side of overwhelming. It feels like you’re pinned beneath his dark eyes, his gaze somehow sharpened as he watches you from beneath his more casual balaclava, the skull pattern printed on his jaw adding another layer of intimidation. But his shoulders are relaxed as he sits next to you on the small couch, settling the weight of his attention over you like a blanket.

You’ve always respected him, admired him. How could you not? He’s practically a living legend, his reputation larger than life, and he’s scary as fuck. But he’s also softer than you had expected, gentle when he needs to be. He still rides you hard in training, pushing you to your limits and taking no quarter, but you can’t begrudge that. Not when you know he’s working to keep you alive. Perhaps that’s how the attraction had first bloomed; once it started, it was hard to stifle.

Ghost hooks one finger into his balaclava and pulls it up just high enough to expose his mouth, and he presses his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. You struggle not to stare like a moron, but he makes it so difficult. His lips are full and pink, and there’s a rugged scar bisecting his top lip. His stubble is dark blond and short, and it doesn’t hide the various scars and marks that decorate his strong jawline. 

You almost jolt when he pulls the mask back down, hurriedly averting your eyes and forcing yourself to look out across the room. It’s not just the 141 that’s decided to take up in the rec room this evening; there are soldiers from other units littered all around the room, laughing and joking, playing lazy games of pool on the table in the corner and smoking. The smoke alarm has been jimmied off the ceiling and the window is open, and even Price is turning a temporary blind eye to the blatant disregard for regulations in favour of puffing on one of his cigars. 

Ghost shifts on the worn-out fabric of the couch, and lays an arm over the back of the headrest behind you. It’s a casual, thoughtless movement, but it ends up pushing his body slightly closer to you in a way that makes you feel as though you’re about to catch fire.

You cross your legs, but the seam of your jeans presses into your pussy in a way that sends a frisson of heat up your spine. You hurriedly uncross your legs, and attempt to school your expression into casual neutrality as you force yourself to tune back into the conversation.

“–ach, c’mon, Captain,” Soap is saying in a wheedling tone that he probably thinks is endearing. “One round of strip poker won’t kill ya–”

“No.” Price says in a voice like thunder, brooking no argument as thick cigar smoke pours from his nose. It gives the impression of an enraged bull.

Soap either is ignorant to the warning, or is choosing to wilfully ignore it. Judging by the sly gleam in his eyes, you can guess which. He turns to you then, and waggles his eyebrows.

“C’mon, lassie, you’ll play, won’t ya?” He asks with a grin that promises trouble. “I guarantee you’ll be a sight better than any o’ these louts.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gaz pipes up, already grinning. “I was looking forward to seeing the Captain in his jocks–”

Price promptly knocks his drink back, before pushing himself up to his feet with a grim groan. “Right. That’s enough of you lot for one night.”

Gaz and Soap break into peals of laughter, settling back into their seats as they watch their captain march away.

“Offer’s still open, love,” Soap says, still snickering when he looks over to you. “Wanna play?”

Ghost shifts, his wide thigh knocking into yours as his arm stretches behind your shoulders. He lets out a short exhale through his nose, but when you glance up at him you find him as stoic and hard to read as always.

You just roll your eyes. It’s not the first time that they’ve tried to rope you into strip poker, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. You can always trust Soap to start stripping his clothes off when he’s three drinks in, whether he’s playing a game or not, so it’s not surprising that he tries to involve other people in his bad decision making.

And it’s not a big deal, really. There’s been countless missions and operations that have ended up with all of you staying in uncomfortably close quarters with each other. You’ve seen them naked countless times, and the same with them for you. It’s never meant anything, and you know that Soap’s teasing is exactly that – you don’t think they’ve ever once looked at you through any sexual lens at all.

But even still, the joke flusters you more than it should.

“Think I’ll be joining Cap in going to bed, actually.” You say, clearing your throat and setting your glass down on the low table in front of the couch.

The playful booing from Soap doesn’t do much to change your mind, and you stick out your tongue at him and Gaz as you push yourself up from the couch. You try to ignore the loss of heat at your side when you move away from Ghost, though you can’t help but glance back at the lieutenant. He’s not looking at you, his gaze directed into his glass. You try not to feel disappointed about that.

You say your goodnights, and retreat from the rec room.

By the time you make it back to your dorm however, you’re already playing the conversation back over in your head and wondering if you had made the wrong decision.

Perhaps you should have just played the damn game. Despite your inexperience with all things sexual, you’re not actually all that shy about your body. On missions, you and the squad are often forced into tight quarters, and they've all seen you in various stages of undress before. It's hard to be self-conscious around a group of people that have seen you at your worst, whether that’s soaked in blood, unshowered, sleep-deprived, or injured.

But you were so keyed up from your earlier failed attempts at masturbation that the thought of being so physically exposed in front of your squad is mortifying. It feels as though your unresolved arousal is still simmering through your veins, turning your thoughts slow and soupy and stupid. 

It’s not so surprising. Your preferred method of dealing with stress is coming back to your private bunk and messing around with your vibrator until you’ve forgotten all of your problems. The problem is, you’ve never quite been able to reach that climax you’ve heard so many talk about.

It’s not for lack of trying, and it’s not as though you haven’t come close to that toe-curling finish you crave so much. But it’s like there’s some sort of block, something that always holds you back before you can go plummeting over that edge. Something that makes the buzzing pleasure dissipate before your eyes like smoke, leaving you worked up and so frustrated. It’s probably inevitable that all those ruined finishes have built up like sludge in your veins, leaving you slow and distracted and irritable.

You eye your underwear drawer thoughtfully as you perch on your bed, before reaching inside and drawing out the same dildo you had been using earlier. You wonder if it would be too much to try again tonight – the muscles in your calves still feel a little bit over-worked from training all day, and you have a feeling that straining in an attempt to reach an orgasm you’ll likely never attain will only make it worse.

But the thought of Ghost in that stupid tight cotton shirt stays firmly stuck in your mind, and that really makes the decision for you. Before you can think too much about it, you’re sliding your jeans off and climbing atop your mattress. The sheets are dirty anyway, after all. May as well have some fun before you change them.

You slide your panties off next, then kick them to the side. It’s difficult not to feel a little pathetic, but you push those feelings aside. So what if you have an embarrassing little crush on a superior officer? It’s not like that’s unusual within the military, and you’re quite certain that dealing with all that unresolved attraction like this is the most sensible thing you can do.

You fish out the bottle of lube you had been using earlier, and drizzle it liberally along the dildo’s length before setting it aside on the blanket. While you’ve used your dildo plenty of times, you still struggle to grow accustomed to the stretch of it. It’s a good dildo – a vibrating one in the rabbit style, designed to stimulate your g-spot and clit at the same time. It was damn expensive too, but it’s one luxury you’re willing to indulge in.

You close your eyes, slide it between your legs, and hit the power button. A low bzzz emanates from between your thighs; you jerk at the immediate barrage of pleasure, your abs tightening and your legs twitching apart, creating more room between them.

Your body is quick to react, sweat prickling under your armpits and your heart thudding quickly in your chest. You can feel electric pleasure coursing through you as you press it against your clit, your toes curling into your sheets.

You bring the vibrator lower, your clit throbbing a little at its sudden absence before you press it inside, sighing. It slips inside much too easily – you’re almost embarrassed by the easy slide. You’re so wet, both from your failed attempt at masturbation earlier and from sitting beside Simon fucking Riley all evening. It’s a deeper, subtler pleasure now, and you clench around it with a quiet moan. 

You cycle through the vibrator’s different settings, making it buzz at odd intervals or lower intensities in your usual attempt to build up an orgasm. You wish, with sudden and mortifying clarity, that it could be replaced with a person. More specifically, a person with big hands and firm muscles that still have some soft give to them, and a toe-curlingly gravelly voice.

You squirm, shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrator inside you. Without meaning to, you imagine Ghost. It’s hard not to, considering your close proximity to him all evening. Your cheeks heat as you imagine Ghost actually being here, watching you all still and silent with that penetrating dark-eyed stare of his. 

You huff out a breath, arching off your bed. This is always the best part. You have to ensure that you relish the build up, before it all fizzles out from between your fingers. You whimper, soft and quiet, clenching around the stiff silicone as it buzzes away inside of you.

Right as you press the soft little vibrating bunny ears to your clit, there’s a knock on the door. Then, horrifically, like a scene from your fucking nightmares, your door opens.

“Kid, you–”

Ghost is already half-way through the door when he lays eyes on you, and then he goes completely still in your doorway.

“Fuck.” You hiss, scrambling to knock the stupid thing off. 

You fumble for it, panicking. The end is slippery and you can barely manage to grip it. When you finally do, it’s difficult to pull out, your body still attempting to hold it inside. It’s another agonising few seconds to turn it off, the vibrator unfortunately featuring one of those awfully thought-out designs that makes you have to cycle through every single one of the settings rather than hit an off-switch.

And then, finally, silence.

Ghost is living up to his name right now; he’s as stock still and silent as a dead man, stiff as a board as he stares unblinkingly at you. You’re not even sure that he’s breathing, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he gapes at you, frozen.

You stare back at him blankly, hoping that your bed comes to life and swallows you whole just to put an end to your mortification.

At last, Ghost blinks, then finishes his sentence. “You left your phone.”

He lifts his arm. In his large, thick fist, is your stupid goddamn phone. You must have left it on the couch when you had gotten up to leave. You might have wondered at the lieutenant voluntarily bringing it to your dorm for you, but you’re hit with a wave of humiliation so strong that it wipes your brain completely blank.

“Ah.” You say, and your voice cracks. “Thanks.”

There’s a moment of mortifying silence, and then Ghost steps into your room. Your heart jolts right up into the base of your throat as he closes your door behind him. The click of the door is as loud as a gunshot in the silence that’s settled over the room.

Ghost still hasn’t blinked. He’s watching you with eyes that look almost black in the dim light of your room, intense as a predator. 

“I–” You attempt to speak, and your throat clicks dryly. “I didn’t–”

Far too late, you realise that your legs are still splayed open. You snap them shut, inhaling a choked breath through your nose.

“I thought I locked the door.” You finish lamely. 

Ghost apparently decides to simply disregard that, which you’re honestly a little grateful for. Instead he steps towards you – the enormous bulk of him feels as though he’s completely filling every bit of space in the room, sucking out all the damn oxygen.

“...‘S this why you were so distracted this evening, hm?” He says as he approaches the bed. “You were in a mood ‘cause you wanted to get back to playing with yourself?”

It’s not a question, exactly. At least, it’s not phrased like one. Ghost’s tone is knowing, with an undertone of gruff amusement. You’re certain that you’re not imagining the rough, breathless quality to his voice either, though the thought sends nerves fizzing through your bloodstream.

“No.” You deny uselessy; it’s plainly obvious what you were doing, after all. “No, I just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish. His eyes are still glued to you, even though your thighs are now pressed together. Before you can stop him, he reaches down and takes a hold of your hot pink vibrator where you had been trying to hide it beneath your thigh.

“Cute little thing.” He comments, tilting his head to look at the dildo hanging between his thick fingers.

Mortification burns through you. A panicked sort of screech escapes you and you yank it back out of Ghost’s stupid big hand, shoving it under the blankets. 

Perhaps if it had been anyone else, your humiliation wouldn’t be burning quite so intensely. But this is Ghost – your lieutenant, the gruff man that you’ve looked up to ever since you joined the task force. He’s not a man famed for his patience, nor for his eloquence, which is making this situation all the more unbearable.

“Lt,” You wheeze, scrambling to sit up and cover your pussy with your hands as you squeeze your legs closed. “I swear I didn’t– I’m sorry–”

But Ghost doesn’t seem interested in your apologies. He’s still watching you as though he can see right through the damn blanket, as though he’s measuring you up and trying to come to a decision about something. In that moment, you hate your reaction to him – no matter how humiliating this situation is, you want him to approve of you, even now.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He grunts, and then he sits down on your bed.

You gape at him. It feels as though your brain has stalled; you’re pretty sure you’re not reacting correctly right now. You probably should have screamed when the lieutenant walked right into your room without knocking. That surely would have sent him straight back out again. And even now, you should probably be ordering him out, telling him to leave. 

But you don’t.

“I was.. um.. finished anyway.” You manage to croak out. You sound so pathetic that you nearly make yourself cringe.

Ghost doesn’t answer immediately. He just watches you, his eyes as dark as ever beneath the mask. For a moment, you think he’s not going to answer at all.

But then he says, “Didn’t look like you finished to me.”

Blood rushes to your face so quickly that it makes you light-headed as you catch his meaning. Oh, what the fuck. This is just adding salt to the wound now.

“I wasn’t trying to–” You start, then cut yourself off. “That’s not why I was– I was just trying to relax.”

In the ensuing silence, you realise how silly you sound. At the very least, Ghost doesn’t laugh; he just tilts his head to the side, consideringly.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– sir–”

“Let me see, sergeant.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Ghost’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You have room to refuse. You could tell him to get out of your dorm right now, and he’d do it. Knowing the lieutenant, he’d never bring it up again, either.

You drop your knees apart, spreading your thighs in an unpracticed, self-conscious sort of motion. 

Under the lieutenant’s sharp gaze, your skin prickles and your nerves strain. Even sitting down on your bed, he’s a veritable behemoth of broad shoulders and thick corded muscle. His hulking form towers over you even now, and you feel so damn small as you lay there propped up against your pillows in nothing but a t-shirt.

Ghost has seen you naked before, obviously. You can’t afford to be prudish in the military, where you never know when you’ll next have true privacy, and you’ve changed out and showered with the squad countless times. It’s never meant anything, and the men in 141 have never made you feel anything less than comfortable with them.

This, however, is different. This isn’t just a case of catching a quick glimpse of your nude form as you shower in the group shower rooms when you’re out on missions – your whole damn pussy is out on display for him, still glistening wet and sticky from your ministrations and the lube you’d used.

Ghost’s inhale is as loud as a thunderclap. You’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in another person’s presence. You feel a little ridiculous laying like this as he watches you, but another part of you feels so humiliatingly desperate for some kind of approval from your lieutenant. 

At first, that approval is nowhere to be found. Ghost is notoriously difficult to read, and you’re beginning to sweat as you lay there waiting for a response – any response.

At last, he makes a noise. It’s part grunt, part hum, and part groan.

“You’re still wet, sergeant.”

Are you imagining it, or is his voice an octave deeper than usual? 

Your eyes trace his face, trying to imagine what he looks like beneath the mask. You can see the suggestion of his nose, the square curve of his jaw. His darkened eyes are watching you so carefully that you feel as though you’re physically being pinned in place.

You swallow. “It’s just– I–”

“You didn’t get to finish.” Ghost interrupts, with the air of completing your sentence for you. 

You try to speak, but nothing more than a strangled sort of murmur escapes. You swallow hastily, then try again.

“I wasn’t going to. Sir.” You tack on the title at the end as an afterthought, but this whole situation is so far beyond professional that you probably needn’t have bothered. “Finish, I mean. I… I never do.”

You’ve admitted it before you can really think about it, and then you regret it wildly. You can’t help but wonder if you’ve overstepped a boundary, but then again the boundaries are currently so blurred that they’re virtually impossible to discern.

“You never finish.” Ghost repeats it. Slowly, staring right at your face, as though he’s confirming what you’ve just said. 

It sounds so much worse in his deep, gravelly voice.

Embarrassment blooms, thick and sickly in your stomach. Your legs start to twitch closed, too embarrassed to be having this conversation with your cunt bared like this, but then Ghost’s big paw of a hand reaches out to settle over your knee, keeping you open and exposed. It’s so rare to see his hands ungloved, and the bare skin of his callous-roughened hand feels almost scorching hot against your inner knee.

“I don’t– I’ve tried,” You say, and you can’t help but feel as though you’re just digging yourself further into a hole, here. “But I don’t– I’m not able to. I mean, I’ve come close, I’m just not able to… you know.”

You trail off lamely, feeling like the biggest fucking loser ever. Why are you telling him this? Why the fuck haven’t you reacted properly, and kicked him the hell out of your room?

Deep down, a shameful little part of you already knows the answer to that. You’re feeling awfully, sickeningly hopeful. Having Lieutenant Riley in your dorm, sitting on your bed and staring so hungrily at the wet, swollen parts between your legs feels like something out of your wildest wet dreams.

His eyes flick towards your pink silicone rabbit dildo, half-hidden under your blanket, and he grunts consideringly before reaching out and taking it into his hands again. It’s standard-size, but it looks small in his big hands.

“You ain’t doin’ it right, then.” He says, so bluntly that you just blink at him. “Show me how you use it.”

For a brief, wild moment, you wonder if you’re experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations right now. Surely you can’t really be experiencing this right now – and yet the lieutenant is still watching you, and you’ve never disobeyed a direct order before. 

He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.

And… well. All you ever try to do is impress him. 

You shuffle your legs open a little wider, ignoring the flustered heat that scalds your cheeks. You’ve never been all exposed like this in front of another person, and the weight of Ghost’s eyes on you is reminiscent of being under a spotlight.

You swear his eyes darken even further when you press the stiff silicone rabbit dildo to your cunt, if it’s even possible for that gaze to get darker beneath the thick balaclava and eyeblack smeared over the narrow strip of skin that’s visible.

The dildo sinks in so easily that it’s almost embarrassing, and your breath catches both from the stretch and the way Ghost leans in a little closer to see. Far from turning you off, you feel your body throb in response to his proximity, and your cunt flutters pathetically around the plastic toy. You shift, attempting to get a little more comfortable, but you can’t dispel the nerves fizzing in your blood as you attempt to push the dildo a little deeper under Ghost’s sharp gaze.

His big, hulking body is so perfectly still as he watches you that it’s making you a little nervous. The only reaction that you get from him is a small, considering hum, but even then you can’t figure out what it means. Your movements are a little clumsy, so hyper-conscious that he’s watching every single thing you do that you end up fumbling a little. He’s looking at you in the same way he assesses threats, his intense dark eyes examining every movement and reaction you make. It makes you feel small and jittery, especially when you realise that he’s judging you by what you’re doing.

“You gonna turn it on?” He asks, and oh god his voice has definitely dropped lower and huskier. You know you’re not imagining it. 

You can’t even bring yourself to respond with words. You just make a strangled sort of sound of agreement, then clumsily hit the on button. The toy buzzes to life once more, and your toes curl absent-mindedly into the sheets as the soft silicone bunny ears pulse against your clit.

It feels nice, but you can’t manage to concentrate on the feeling. Hyper-aware of Ghost’s attention, you let out a quiet moan as you shift the vibrator inside you. It’s a little exaggerated, but you can’t help it – you feel like you should be putting on some kind of a show. 

You glance back at Ghost’s face, trying to guess what he’s thinking; even through the mask, you can tell that he’s frowning. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. Have you done something wrong?

“This how you usually do it?” He asks.

You swallow thickly, feeling a bit stupid. “Um.. yeah.”

Ghost grunts. He doesn’t sound impressed.

“No wonder you can’t come.” He says wryly.

You go still, eyes widening. In the silence, the bzzzzt! of your stupid vibrator is louder than ever. A sudden wave of shame washes over you, and you start to close your legs again in an effort to block the sight of the toy stuffed into your pussy.

“Oh,” You snap sourly, your embarrassment making you irritable. “So you’re the pussy expert now?”

That startles a loud bark of a laugh out of the lieutenant, a sound so rare that you find yourself desperately trying to commit it to memory.

“Think I might know a bit more than you, sweetheart.” He says. He’s relaxed now, his wide shoulders rolling back. He’s always so effortlessly confident, always so assured in himself and his abilities in a way that makes you feel like a silly little girl. 

Judging by the way the corners of his eyes are just slightly wrinkled beneath the mask, Ghost is smirking at you. He finds this funny.

“What about when you’re with other people, hm?” He asks, and his eyes drop back down to try and get a look at you again. When he realises that your legs are clamped tight together, he reaches out to guide your thighs apart again. “No one’s ever impressed you?”

His hands are big and rough and hot, and your willpower crumbles like wet paper as you allow him to open your legs all over again. The vibrator is still buzzing sadly inside you, mostly forgotten about; the stimulation is nice, but it’s never been enough for you.

You huff a weak laugh. You should have known that this would come up, and now you find yourself floundering a little.

“No one’s ever tried.” The confession comes out like a whisper, like a secret.

You can see the moment Ghost understands; realisation settles heavy over him like a physical weight, and the whites of his eyes flash as they widen just slightly. For a moment, he says nothing at all. He doesn’t move – it doesn’t even look like he breathes. 

“No?” He says, except it doesn’t really sound like a question. It sounds rough, and you can feel the almost convulsive motion of his fingers tightening around your knee. 

You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.

Ghost’s wispy blond eyelashes flutter softly as his eyes dart down to your pussy, still humiliatingly stuffed with your stupid little vibrator. He takes a moment to stare, then looks back up to your face. He’s so frustratingly confident about everything he does, not an ounce of shame in his posture even as you wilt beneath him.

“Never messed around with anybody?”

“No.” You say, and it comes out on a wheeze. He holds your gaze without faltering, and you realise that he’s expecting you to elaborate. “No, I– it just never happened. I was never… um, I was just always too busy, I guess.”

“Too fussy, more like.” He mutters, quiet enough that it seems like it’s a comment meant just for himself. You don’t know how to take that, so you chew your lip and stay quiet.

His eyes drop down to the vibrating dildo again, and you recognise something that looks like a flash of hunger. It feels like there’s pressure building up beneath your skin, tight and hot, and your thighs fall open a little further. You feel raw and so, so exposed, but you don’t even care when Ghost is looking at you like that.

“Let me try.” He says, the words falling out sharp and harsh as though he they’ve burst out of his mouth before he can stop them. It’s not like Ghost to speak without thinking it through, perfectly calculated, and your breath catches a little at the offer.

How could you ever say no to that? You don’t really think that he’s going to succeed in making you come – at this point you’re pretty sure your body is a little bit broken and you’re just not capable of orgasming at all, and that’s whatever – but the chance to get fucked by Ghost? To lose the lingering vestiges of your viriginity to your ridiculously hot, mysterious, massive lieutenant? It’s like something out of a dream.

“Okay.” You choke out, nodding stupidly. “Yeah.”

You want to be touched. You don’t think you’ve ever actually felt the yearning for physical contact this strongly in your life; you’re practically holding your breath as you wait for Ghost to make a move.

Finally, he reaches out. His first move is to pull the stupid little dildo out of you, still vibrating, and you feel yourself clench convulsively around nothing as he leaves you empty and wanting. He spares it a brief, evaluating glance, and you feel yourself burn as you realise he’s examining how you’ve soaked the toy.

He tosses it to the side, barely even taking the time to switch it off first, then turns his attention back to you. He’s got that same kind of laser-focus he usually only gets out on the field, and you take a moment to feel incredibly grateful that you’re never going to be on the receiving end of that terrifying scrutiny on the battlefield.

It feels like your skin is too tight for your body, every nerve and synapse strained and primed as you wait for him to touch you. But he’s slow about it, as though he just wants to torture you a little bit. 

When he finally reaches out to lay his hands on you, he doesn’t touch where you want him to.

His callous-roughened hands land on your hips, and pull you down the bed towards him. In the same move, he half-climbs up on the mattress, his huge form practically dwarfing you. Your head and shoulders are still cushioned by your pillows, but your legs are splayed open around Ghost where he kneels on your bed.

You glance down, unable to help yourself, unable to resist trying to catch a look at the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers, and oh. Fuck. He’s big. You knew he’d be big, of course, he’s big all over, but Jesus Christ, maybe you’re a little out of your own depth here–

His thick fingers tangle in the hem of your t-shirt, stretching the fabric out. “Take this off.”

You scramble to do as he says, grabbing at your top and pulling it up clumsily. You realise a moment too late that you’re not wearing a bra, but you suppose at this point it hardly matters. You drop your shirt to the side, and try not to feel too horrifically self-conscious beneath the burning hot gaze of the lieutenant.

Though you can’t see Ghost’s face, you can hear the soft exhale he blows out through his nose, just faintly muffled by the fabric of his mask. His eyes are trained on your chest, darting between each of your tits as though he can’t decide which one to settle on. After a long moment, he reaches forward and cups your left tit with one of his enormous hands, thumbing absently at one of your nipples.

It’s silly; Ghost has touched you before. Lots of times. A nudge of the elbow accompanied by a conspiratorial eye roll, a clap to the shoulder, rough hands pulling you to your feet after training or applying white-hot painful pressure to injuries. But this – you’ve never been touched like this before, not by Ghost, not by anyone.

The shaky breath you let out as his big, rough thumb rolls over your firm nipple comes out as a strangled sort of moan that honestly startles you a little. The noise catches his attention, and he snorts.

“Can’t be that sensitive.” He mutters, but then he reaches to thumb at your other nipple as though trying to be sure.

It’s because you’ve never been touched like this by another person before, you tell yourself. Truthfully, you’ve never even touched yourself like this before. You’ve never bothered to play with your own tits; you’ve always just gone straight to breaking out your vibrators. Now, with every brush of Ghost’s scarred fingers over the tight bud of your nipples, you think you must have been crazy to skip over this part of yourself. But then again, there’s no way that your own hands on yourself would elicit the same sharp jolt that shoots from your breasts down your spine.

“Sir–” You breathe, struggling not to squirm where you’re laying. You wonder, somewhat deliriously, if it might be rude to demand your lieutenant stuff his thick fingers into your pussy. You can already tell that they’re going to feel so much better than your own.

Ghost glances up at you, his eyes unreadable as he watches you bite at your lip. God, his little wispy eyelashes are so blond—

“What?” He says, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Say it.”

“Want to try your fingers.” You breathe before you can second-guess yourself. 

The laugh that rumbles out of Ghost’s chest is low and smoky. It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, so big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. You’ve witnessed those hands crack bones and snap necks and break down doors, and yet you can’t help but wonder desperately what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.

He adjusts himself on the bed; he’s a big man, hulking and huge as he kneels on your mattress, his weight causing it to dip. His palms wrap around your ankles with ease, and he hauls you into place with a grim efficiency that goes straight to your pussy.

“Big brute.” You say, a little breathlessly.

He ignores you, using his arms to hold your legs open and wide for him. And all you can do is just lie there as he stares, because goddamn it’s like he’s been carved from steel and you can’t break out of his grip. Not that you want to break out of his grip anyway, but you’d really appreciate it if he actually got moving instead of just staring.

“Fuck,” He grunts after a moment, with the air of talking to himself. “Been hiding this all this time, huh?”

“Jesus.” You breathe in response, subconsciously letting your legs drop open even more.

He makes a low noise of appreciation, and finally reaches out to touch you properly. One thick thumb swipes through the seam of your cunt, and you feel the way he’s smearing the clear sticky wetness that’s been leaking steadily out of you. With his now slick thumb, he drags up towards your clit and circles it with agonisingly light pressure.

You let out an embarrassing choked whine, your toes curling at the sensation. Somewhat ironically, Ghost is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your attempts, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow.

“D’you always get this wet?”

You can’t even tell if he’s asking you mockingly or if he’s being genuinely curious; it feels like every inch of your focus has narrowed down to the feel of his big thumb rolling those tight little circles around your clit, his touch scorching against you.

It’s not exactly surprising that Ghost is good with his hands. You’ve seen the way he handles weaponry, locking and loading and aiming to fire with the kind of swiftness that comes from muscle memory, working with unwavering speed and precision. He’s the same in hand-to-hand combat, moving with aggressive fluidity that overwhelms his opponents. You’ve caught hits from him before in training, and you know from experience that a punch from those big hands feels like getting hit by a cinder block.

But even knowing how deft and skilled his hands are, it knocks the breath out of you when he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you, still rubbing steadily at the swollen bump of your clit. 

When you exhale, it accidentally comes out as a moan. Your cheeks burn, but there’s really no space in your brain right now for embarrassment to sink in. Two of Ghost’s fingers are the equivalent of at least three and a half of yours, and you feel yourself break out into an overwhelmed sweat when they twist and rub against the sensitive squishy spot in the front wall of your cunt.

You’re so damn worked up, your arousal coiled like a knot in your lower belly from your failed attempts to get yourself off all day. Your back curves, humping yourself near mindlessly back up into his hand as he plays you like a goddamn instrument.

You barely even have time to consider how unfair it is that Ghost is so good at playing with you like this when he doesn’t even have a pussy himself, because then he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop–” You start to protest breathlessly, your chest still heaving, but the quick glance the lieutenant sends you has you falling silent.

Ghost glances down at his fingers. They’re all glossy from fingering you, and he takes a moment to eye up the way they glisten in the dim light of your bunk. You might have felt self-conscious about it, if you couldn’t see the unmistakable gleam of hungry interest in Ghost’s dark brown eyes.

He wipes his hand on the crease of your hip, but you don’t even get the chance to protest before he reaches up to hook his fingers into his mask. You go still, holding your breath in surprise as he pulls the material up until it bunches up around the bridge of his nose.

And that’s– well. You’ve seen his jaw before, and his mouth (Jesus, you had seen it earlier that evening, when he had been sipping on his smooth whiskey of choice), but the sight of his strong jawline and blond stubble and corded scars on his pale skin always manages to knock the breath out of you. And this time, he’s rolled his mask up even further than before, revealing a nose that’s clearly been broken at least once before.

You probably shouldn’t stare so blatantly, especially knowing that Ghost always takes such pains to keep his face covered. You’re not even sure if the other guys on the team have seen his uncovered face, except for Price, and you know that they’ve developed a habit of averting their eyes when he pulls his mask up for whatever reason. It’s a habit that you never quite managed to develop yourself; you’re never able to stop yourself from gaping at him like a moron, drinking in all of the minutest details. He’s never said a thing about your penchant for staring, so you can only hope that he’s chosen to ignore it.

You’re so busy staring that it takes you by surprise when he grips your jaw with one massive hand and pulls you into a rough kiss.

The sound you make is small and startled, but it’s swallowed by Ghost’s demanding mouth. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but they feel scorching hot against yours. You reach up to grab at his arms – mostly just to ground yourself – but you find yourself almost immediately distracted by the firm bulge of his biceps beneath your hands.

Listen, you’ve kissed people before, plenty times. You’re in your early twenties, and just because you’re inexperienced sexually it doesn’t mean that you’re inexperienced full stop. But this, right now, kissing with Ghost, makes you feel as though you’ve been doing nothing but fumbling your way through all of those encounters, like you’ve been kissing wrong all this time.

It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body until you find your fingers grasping desperately at the short cotton sleeves of Ghost’s t-shirt where it’s stretched over his thickly muscled arm.

Ghost doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. It’s like a full-body experience with him; he puts his hands, his whole damn body into the kiss. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backwards into the pillows beneath you. At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Ghost’s hands running over you, stroking you sides and squeezing at your breasts and groping at the soft flesh of your hips and ass. 

 “Hah,” You gasp out when Ghost’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you feel yourself grow embarrassingly wetter, just from a little kissing.

“You good?” Ghost grunts into your throat as he nips at the base of your jaw.

“Uh huh.” You manage to get out, still clutching at his meaty arms like they’re a lifeline. “So good.”

His breath is hot on your throat when he rumbles out a deep chuckle, and then his tongue flicks out against your earlobe. It makes you forget how to breathe for a second, and you’re distracted when Ghost’s hand changes course, easing beneath your legs so he can press his fingers against your clit again.

Then he pauses, and his fingers slide lower, lazily hooking back and inside you. You tremble, horny and humiliated as you realise that your arousal is glistening all over your damn thighs, impossible to miss.

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. “All this for me, sweetheart?”

“Hnng,” You whimper like an idiot as his fingers return to your clit, now slick and slippery. “I’m just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to explain. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of you again and kisses you hard. The soft breathy noises you make are muffled into his mouth, and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically. He’s built like a damn mountain, your thighs stretched wide to accommodate the bulk of him as he settles against the core of you.

He likes that – he presses in close, and you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing up against you through the roughness of his jeans. You’re so sensitive that the coarseness of the fabric is almost unbearable, but you’re able to ignore it because you’re so distracted by the sensation of his erection because holy fucking shit that can’t really be how big he is.

You gasp, the sound high and breathy, and you try to grind against Ghost, but it’s impossible because he’s so fucking heavy and he’s pinning you down on the mattress beneath him. Instead, all you can do is squeeze your legs and pull Ghost in even tighter, increasing the pressure between the two of you.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” Ghost whispers, and it sounds like a promise. He drags his lips up your throat, then talks against the corner of your mouth. “You won’t be able to touch yourself again without wishing it was me.”

The wave of desire that rocks through you almost pulls you under, and you swear you might have actually gotten so horny that you blacked out for a second, because from one second to the next Ghost has somehow managed to muscle his way back down between your thighs so that he’s eye-level with your cunt.

“What are you–” You start to say, but then he loops his forearms under your knees to tug your legs wider, and you realise just how close his face is to your pussy. You swear you’re actually pulsing with arousal, and you wonder a little wildly if he can see that.

“Oh, fuck, yes — please,” You blurt out, before Ghost has even gotten his mouth on you. He chuckles, low and amused. His grin looks predatory, but in this moment you really don’t mind being the prey — not if it means you’ll be devoured by that mouth.

Then Ghost’s mouth is against you, wet and burning hot. You cry out, barely noticing as Ghost throws one of your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open.

It’s just the right side of overwhelming. Ghost’s mouth feels like it’s going to swallow you whole – his tongue is huge and flat and firm as he licks over your clit, making your thighs quake on either side of his head. It’s entirely unlike any of the fumbling masturbatory attempts you’ve ever made – you always enjoy messing around with your various little sex toys, but you’re swiftly beginning to realise that it could never compare to real human contact. Or at least, contact with Ghost.

His hands move from your waist to your asscheeks, his big palms squeezing the plump flesh there before using his grip to pull your body closer so that he can bury his whole face between your legs. The rougher material of his mask presses harshly into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but you hardly even notice it.

Your pussy has never been this wet before; it feels like you’ve sprung a goddamn leak. You might have felt embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the way Ghost groans against you, his wide tongue laving flat and rough against the seam of your cunt as he practically gulps down all the sticky arousal you have to give him.

“Oh god– fuck! Sir…” You sigh, spreading your knees farther apart so that Ghost can wedge his head further between your thighs.

Your ears burn as your room is filled with sounds of him tonguing at your cunt, the lewd wet squish of him working you over until you’re keening, your hips twitching clumsily until his hands tighten where he’s gripping the plump flesh of your ass to keep you still. Then all you can do is twitch as he licks over your clit in repetitive lapping motions, working in circles and then dipping down to shove his searingly hot tongue inside you. You can feel his teeth press against your labia even as he sucks at your clit, and the sensation sends hot bolts of pleasure rocketing down your spine.

Though you don’t mean to, you’re pretty sure that you make his job harder. You can’t stop wriggling, tossing your head back against your pillows and squirming on Ghost’s tongue in a wild overstimulated dance, like a fish caught in a net.

Finally, Ghost seems to have enough of your unco-ordinated flailing attempts to grind against his face. He reaches around your thigh with one arm to reach your clit so he can keep it stimulated as he gulps at the sticky sweetness of your cunt like a man possessed – the action also works to keep your hips pinned down and still. You stop your frantic moving, but your spasms and sounds increase tenfold.

You can hardly believe it, but you feel something coming. A sweet, torturous build up starts in your belly, and you sweat and gasp as he licks and suckles at you relentlessly. You’ve never found yourself in this state so quickly before, with your legs trembling and your breathing heavy and shaky. 

“Oh.. oh…” You breathe, beginning to arch your back.

You know this feeling – this is where that sweet climax builds and builds, only to dissipate at the last agonisingly close moment. But this time, with Ghost’s big head between your thighs as his mouth moves against you, sucking, tasting, eating up everything you have to offer, the breath-taking pleasure doesn’t show any sign of slipping out of reach. It feels like for once you might actually reach that peak.

But then, right as you’re certain that you’re about to tip over that long-awaited coveted release, the bastard pulls away.

“No!” You practically shriek, attempting to sit up. “No, I was so close–!”

“Lie back.” Ghost orders, his voice like the crack of a whip. 

You drop back obediently before you can even register that you’re moving, so conditioned to react instantly to that tone of voice coming from Ghost’s deep rumbling baritone. Your eyes are wide and betrayed as you stare at him, admittedly a little baleful.

God, but it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s staring up at you from between your legs like that. His eyes are dark and hungry beneath the mask, and since it’s all pushed up and rumpled around his nose you get a toe-curlingly good look at his lower face. His chin is wet and smeared with your slick, and his lips are plump and pink and swollen from all the kissing and suckling he’s done to you. In a moment of near-delirium, you think that you understand now why he covers his face – his mouth is pretty in a way that shocks you, in a way that needs to be hidden for decency’s sake.

“You’re gettin’ greedy,” He grunts, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the crease of your thigh just to make you yelp. “Wait for it, love. It’ll be worth the wait.”

You don’t think you have much of a choice, so all you can do is lay back and hold on for the ride. He presses his mouth to you again, and you whimper softly as he tongues at your clit. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out like this?” He asks, the words muffled into the damp curve of your thigh. It’s stupid, because you know he knows the answer to that is a resounding no, but it seems like he just wants to hear you say it out loud.

“No.” You say, your breaths sawing their way out of your chest.

“Hnn.” He makes some kind of grunting sound against you, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. “That’s why you’ve been so tense, huh? So fuckin’ desperate for someone to touch you?”

“That’s not– ‘m not tense,” You manage to get out, your breasts heaving as your thighs tense up where they’re thrown over his shoulders. “Maybe.. Maybe you’re too relaxed.”

Ghost huffs a hot little laugh at your hip because you both know that couldn’t be further from the truth. You doubt anyone has ever accused Ghost of being too relaxed before, but you don’t have time to feel stupid for it – not when Ghost is devoting the full force of his attention on you, deep breaths huffing against the wet skin of your pussy and making you shudder.

“That’s it,” He croons, his voice uncharacteristically soft and lilting. The rumble of it ripples through your limbs like lapping waves, his battle-roughened palm stroking and smoothing down your ass and thigh as he hauls you closer. “Relax, sweetheart. Fuck, such a pretty pussy. Fuckin’ criminal of you to keep this hidden away all to yourself.” And then, quieter, “Fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet.”

You’re not even sure that he’s talking to you. It seems more as though he’s talking to himself, and it just happens to be you he’s talking about. Your cheeks burn as the feeling of vulnerability sets in, but you keep your legs spread wide as he kisses your clit with his swollen pink lips. You want so badly to be good, for him to be pleased with you, that you push past your embarrassment as best you can.

There’s a budding anxiety in your belly that Ghost is wasting his time here. As much as you crave his touch and the build up, you worry that he’s going to get frustrated with you and your inability to actually orgasm.

But Ghost doesn’t seem to be in a rush. He seems perfectly fucking happy between your legs, and even with his mask all clumsily rucked up around his nose he presses his face into your pussy with his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. Even when you shift a little in an effort to get him to go a little harder or faster, he just pins you still and continues at his own leisurely pace.

When he reintroduces his fingers, pressing inside and stretching you out with a light sting, you hiss and try to lift your hips again. His rough calloused knuckles brush against the inside of your soft inner thighs, making them quiver as he goes three fingers deep.

“Shhh, atta girl.” He mumbles into you, his words coming out wetly muffled since he doesn’t even both pulling his face back. “Fuckin’– shit, so good.”

The praise shoots liquid and molten through you, and you have to bite back a pathetic keen as you pulse around his fingers. You’re sure he must feel it, because he lets out an answering rumble and laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks.

“Oh god–”

“Shhh.” Ghost scoots forward so your knee can hoist over his shoulder. Then he angles his chin to kiss the skin on the inside curve of your knee as he pumps into you with slow, slippery fingers and ungodly squelching noises that only sparks you hotter. You can’t even tell if it’s sweat or tears dotting your face anymore.

Though Ghost’s eyes are heavy-lidded and a little fogged over, he hasn’t looked away from you once. The focused intensity of his gaze spears you through, because you’ve never been looked at like that. No one has ever seen you like this, no one has ever put effort into you like this, no one has ever been so determined to please you before. You don’t know how you’re ever going to recover from this; you have a terrifyingly distinct impression that he’s going to live up to his promise to ruin you for anyone else.

It feels as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you nearly sob when Ghost pulls back. You’ve never been so close, and you want to scream when he takes his gorgeous fucking mouth away from your clit.

“Fuck.” You wet your lips, realising you were panting like a dog and your mouth is bone dry. “Fuck, Ghost, just—”

“Quiet, lovie.” His reply is hoarse and firm, his throat working hard to swallow as he peered down between you, his clever thumb delving slick circles over the taut bump of your clit, his other three fingers fucking with easy rhythm and purpose. It’s maddening, it’s infuriating, it makes you feel as though you’re about to break apart.

His fingers are pulled out, and then you feel firm pressure pressing into you yet again. Your head lolls as you attempt to sit up, your eyelids fluttering as you realise that he’s pressing your stupid dildo into you again.

“Oh, you bastard–” You start to complain, but Ghost doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak properly.

The dildo slides into you so easily, your sticky slick mixing with his spit making the slide almost effortless. You sigh, a build-up of pressure making your whole body feel as though you’ve been stretched out and pulled tight. 

Now that you’ve been pushed to the edge, you linger by it. Ghost keeps you on that edge for what feels like hours, until your breaths are burning in your chest and the ligaments in your calves are screaming from all the straining you’ve been doing. Every roll of Ghost’s thumb over your clit sends sparks racing through your nerves, and your breathing is harsh and uneven as Ghost starts fucking you with the stupid vibrating dildo. The rhythm he sets is firm and unrelenting, pushing the silicone toy in and out and visibly relishing the wet squish of your cunt as it takes it deep.

Ghost huffs against the wet skin of your inner thigh, making you shudder. It seems like he’s enjoying this as much as you are, judging by the subtle roll of his hips against your mattress as he absorbs himself in fucking you with the dildo. 

He experiments with the angle, adjusting the dildo until you cry out, jerking against the bedding, and whining “There!”. You needn’t bother telling him, though; Ghost has a sharp eye, and he’s so goddamn attentive. He’s already repeating the stroke, pushing the dildo in and bumping it against the same sensitive spot he had hit before.

It feels good, but it’s not enough. Now that you’ve felt the firm hot pressure of his fingers spreading you wide and the wet hunger of his mouth devouring you, you don’t think anything else will do.

He shifts, you catch the rolls of his hips against your mattress again, and you feel as though you’ve caught fire. You think of the glimpse you had caught of his hard cock, pressing against his jeans and making the fabric stretch taut, and you find yourself speaking without thinking.

Ghost pushes the dildo in once more, and you reach down to grab at his wrist as you ask breathlessly, “Can I try yours?”

He pauses; goes so still that it’s honestly uncanny, his eyes practically boring holes into you as he stares at your face. You grow flustered, your own eyes widening in response to your own words. Just because he’s deigning to touch you with his fingers and his mouth, doesn’t mean he’s actually planning to fuck you. Jesus, he’s your fucking superior officer. What were you thinking?

“I’m sorry,” You squeak. “That wasn’t appropriate. Fuck, forget I said that–”

Even beneath the mask, you can see the bob of Ghost’s Adam's apple as he swallows thickly.

“You sure?” He interrupts your rambling before you can get started. “I don’t... ‘m not good with virgins.”

There’s… there’s so much you could say in response to that. Namely, he certainly doesn’t seem like he’s bad with virgins, as evidenced by the throb of arousal still pulsing through your soaked cunt. He’s just had you sobbing at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, and all he has to say when you ask for more is that he’s not good with virgins?

Instead, what you say is a rather lame, “I’m not technically a virgin.”

Which is true. Sort of. Based on a technicality – you had bullied your damn vibrator through your stupid hymen years ago, and you’ve always thought the idea of virginity was a stupid one, anyway. 

“Plastic cocks don’t count, darlin’.”

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed as humiliation burns through you. Jesus, okay. That’s just mortifying. 

“Oh, you think your cock is special, then?” You scoff, attempting nonchalance.

Ghost shifts, letting your legs drop from his shoulders, and kneels up on the mattress so that he’s looming over you. Fuck, every time you get a visceral reminder of how big he is, you feel a little faint. It’s like having a veritable wall of muscle caging you into your bed. Your thighs are spread wide to accommodate the size of him, and you find yourself absolutely captivated by the sight of him with his muscles straining against that stupid tight t-shirt, still panting lightly from his greedy gorging on your cunt.

He reaches out and drags a hand slowly from your cunt up over your belly, between your breasts, up over your sternum, to rest over your collarbones. It’s gentle – he doesn’t put an iota of pressure against your throat – but all you can fucking see is the swell of his bicep and the dark ink of his tattoo and the prominent veins running down the chiselled muscle of his forearm.

Good fucking lord.

“You’ll find out.” He says.

And oh. Okay then. Yeah, you sure fucking will.

He reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, and you can’t help but strain to try and watch. He pushes them down carelessly around his thighs, but doesn’t make any move to strip them off any further. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’re laying on the bed completely nude and exposed, while Ghost has only pushed his jeans down far enough to pull his cock out, but you don’t have any time to feel self-conscious about it.

His cock curves up against his belly, red and twitching. He’s fucking rock hard, and bigger than you had been expecting, bigger than any of your stupid little toys. Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen comically. Fuck. No wonder he’s confident. He’s not lacking in any way.

“D’you’ve a johnny?” He asks, one big paw of a hand taking his cock and stroking lazily at it until a bead of pearly precum oozes from the angry red head.

You’re distracted for a moment, staring at the way he fists his cock, before you blink back to yourself. “What?”

“A condom.” He enunciates slowly, as though speaking to someone he thinks is a bit thick.

“I know what you meant,” You snap, embarrassed. “But– no. Why would I? I’ve never…”

You can see the way his eyes crease and realise that he’s frowning beneath the mask, and you’re hit with a sudden bolt of panic – is he going to change his mind now? You can see the hesitation in the lines of his shoulders, but you think if he changes his mind about fucking you, you might just die.

“It doesn’t matter,” You blurt, “You don’t need one. I’m on the pill. I’m clean.”

Ghost cocks his head, but remains still. It’s almost unnerving, and you feel your toes curl into the bedsheets as you wait for an answer. He looks fucking predatory, hulking over you like a fucking behemoth as he watches you assessingly. You try your best to look confident, but you have a feeling that you just look desperately hungry.

He reaches up and hooks his fingers into the fabric of his mask and pulls it back down to cover his still slick-shiny mouth and jaw, and you’re gripped with sudden overwhelming panic and dismay that he’s changed his mind, that he’s about to leave you here wet and empty and wanting. In that moment, you throw your dignity into the wind.

“Please,” You beg pathetically, wriggling a little bit against your sweat-damp bedding in an effort to grind yourself against him. “Please, please, it’s fine, I swear, you don’t need one–”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost grinds out, his voice rough and a little hoarse. “How can a virgin be such a fuckin’ slut?”

Some part of you wonders if you should be offended by that, but instead a frisson of heat runs down your spine. You know you’re not a slut – you’ve never searched for any sexual attention, and you’ve never even experienced someone else’s touch – but goddamn you want to be a slut for your lieutenant right now.

Despite his harsh words, when Ghost hooks your legs over his hips and aligns himself with you, he’s gentle. He’s acting like you’re something fragile; he’s so big that your legs are spread wide around his waist, his shoulders so broad that he’s blocking out the dim light from your lamp, and yet his touch is light against you as though he’s afraid to break you.

He’s still gripping his cock hard, and he slides the tip of it against your slick heat. You have a brief moment of alarm; even through the haze of arousal, you can recognise that this is going to be a tight fit. You breathe deeply, then begin to wiggle your hips in an effort to take him inside you.

He hisses, then one of his big hands grabs at your hip. “Fuck, stay still.”

“Put it in.” You beg, your voice coming out thick and stupid-sounding. “Fuck, please, c’mon, c’mon–”

“Kid,” Ghost bites out through clenched teeth, his voice low and gritty. “Need you to shut the fuck up for me.”

You manage to bite down on your lip, but you can’t stop yourself from pouting mopily at him with wide, wet eyes. You don’t understand why he’s making you wait – can’t he see how mean he’s being? You’re so fucking wet, so empty as you clench down on nothing, and your clit is so desperate for any kind of stimulation that it’s throbbing needily. The head of his cock catches at your opening, dipping in for a second before resuming its maddening slide up and down.

Ghost is still watching you closely, his brown eyes flickering from where the head of his cock drags through your sodden folds up to your pleading pouting expression. You can only imagine what kind of a sight you make, because his chest growls with a choked sort of groan.

“I know,” He murmurs, almost mockingly soft with you. “I know, you want it. Gotta give it to you slowly.”

You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to give it to you slowly, that he can go as fast and hard as he wants to, but some sense of self-preservation shuts you up. Instead, you nod clumsily as he rubs his cock over the slick folds of your cunt, lubing himself up with your own arousal. The feeling of his cock dragging over you, iron hard and velvety soft, so close to where you want it, is enough to have your head spinning dizzily.

You want to beg again, but you’re still trying to follow his order to be silent. You shift restlessly, biting back a whimper when he taps his cock thoughtfully against your clit.

Finally, he decides to put you out of your misery. 

The thick crown of his cock pushes against the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your cunt, and the gasp you let out is positively punched out of you. He goes slow, just like he promised, but you can still hardly believe it. He goes in and in and in, and yet he’s somehow not even halfway inside. 

“Fuck,” You wheeze, punctuated by a strange little yowl. “Oh god, wait–”

You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the quiet little grunts he’s making. The stretch and the sting and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him and you can’t even decide if it’s good or if it’s too much. Your eyes are hot and wet as overwhelmed tears begin to overflow, and you find yourself arching in a weak attempt to flex away from him and the devastating stretch.

God, he’s massive. You knew he would be, of course, but his size seems so much more significant when you’re being impaled on the end of his cock. Fuck, you can feel your vision go blurry as your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears. You’re mortified when a sob is ripped from your chest, harsh and thick.

“Shh, shh.” Ghost coos, his deep voice syrupy thick as he leans over you, the enormous bulk of him caging you into the mattress until your whole world consists only of him. “Just a little bit more.”

“Fuck,” You choke out, trying to arch away again but failing because he’s so big that there’s nowhere to go. “It’s not gonna fit!”

“Shh, lovie,” He rumbles, ducking his face down so that the rough cotton of his mask is pressed against the sweaty skin of your neck. “Relax’n let me in.”

“I– ‘m trying–” You whine, clutching at his biceps. “Jesus–”

You blink your eyes open, vision blurry from the tears clumping your lashes together, only to be met with the sight of Ghost’s deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath the black mask. He’s looming above you, his gaze made all the more intense by the fact that it’s the only part of his face you can really see.

“All that messin’ around with those plastic cocks, but you’re still this tight for me,” He says, his voice so deep that you feel it reverberate into your bones. “Deep breath.”

The breath you inhale at his instruction is rough and ragged, and he snorts a low breathless laugh in response.

When he finally drives his cock all the way in with one smooth stroke, all the breath is driven from your lungs. It feels as though his cock has been pressed all the way up into your chest, and the noise you make when you squirm on it is utterly pathetic. 

Ghost’s hands are like steel clamps when they close around the plump flesh of your thighs, holding them up and pressing them back until they’re pressed against your belly. He looms over you, still almost entirely clothed as sweat beads over his thickly muscled neck. It’s like getting pinned down by a mountain, and you whimper as you’re speared open and prone by the weight of Ghost pressing down upon you.

He hasn’t even started to move yet, but you still feel overfull and raw.

“Too big,” You mumble, struggling to catch your breath. You choke on a sob and feel your eyes burn with unshed tears as your back arches. “Ghost–!”

“Shh.” He grunts. “Call me Simon when I fuck you.”

That… that does something to you. Molten heat rockets up your spine and pools in your belly, and you swear your pussy floods. It’s stupid, how being granted permission to call your lieutenant by his first name is somehow so much hotter than anything else he’s done so far.

“Simon,” You try it out. It comes out a little shaky, your voice little more than a weak whisper, but you swear you can see his eyes sharpen. 

Apparently having come to the decision that you’ve adjusted enough, Ghost pulls his hips back only to drive back in. 

“Oh!” You yelp, hips jumping, but there’s nowhere to go. 

All you can do is lie there as he slides out, out, out, slow and careful and long, and then his hips snap forward and he impales you, pressing all the way into him. He does it again, and again, and you try to bite down on your tongue, try to not sound so pathetically wrecked, but you can’t. It’s like Ghost is puncturing your lungs and every time he fucks into you, you let out the most pathetic little mewling ah ah ah sounds.

You’re not quite prepared for how different this feels; it’s nothing like your stupid plastic dildo. Ghost’s cock is bigger, but it’s also hotter and with more give than you expected, and you’ve never been able to fuck yourself like this. Your plastic toys could never compare to the sensation of being pinned by your giant of a lieutenant as he ruts into you.

Ghost reaches up and roughly pushes his mask up so his mouth is exposed again before he leans in deeper, almost folding you cleanly in half, stretching in to claim your mouth in a kiss that’s not quite a kiss, but rather a fierce mash of lips and tongue as his rhythm picks up, riding you down into the mattress until you realised the screaming noise isn’t coming from either one of you, but the cheap standard issue bed frame.

All you can do is gasp with each deep, raw fuck. There are tears tracking lazily down your cheeks, having overflowed from your burning eyes, and you honestly think your lungs might collapse. You’re bent like a fucking pretzel, in a way that’s making the muscles in your thighs scream, as Ghost pounds into you. 

He’s fucking relentless, but also shockingly aware of you beneath him. He doesn’t put too much pressure on you when he holds you, he never goes hard enough to hurt, and he knows just the right amount of weight to pin you down without being too much.

Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishing noises getting louder and louder as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls. Your whole world of awareness has been narrowed down to Ghost and Ghost only; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours. 

He’s holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. He’s keeping all his dangerous muscles at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just enough to make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.

“Yeah, you needed this,” Ghost grunts, his uncovered mouth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. “This’s why you were so fuckin’ distracted earlier, hm? You thinkin’ about how much you needed to cream around a real cock?”

“Uh huh, yeah,” You slur out, not even sure what you’re agreeing with. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth, every nerve in your body raw and sparking. You must sound so pathetic, but Ghost seems to like it.

“Ain’t gonna be distracted anymore, are ya?” He rumbles, laving his tongue over your jaw in a way that feels filthy. “Just needed your little pussy filled, that’s all.”

You cry out for him because you can’t help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges into you. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving slick trails along his shaft. But gradually he gets bolder, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.

You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You swear you even feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.

Then he leans back, lifting his weight off of you so you can breathe properly. He leaves his hand on your collarbones like a placeholder, his palm spread over the base of your throat like a reminder, a way to keep your attention on him. 

“Fuck,” He grits out, “That’s it, doll.”

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that Ghost’s gaze has shifted, no longer focused on your face but now instead fixed firmly between your legs as he watches the thick shaft of his cock sink into you. He obviously likes how you feel inside; you can hear him cursing and grunting quietly as his free hand grips your hip for leverage. 

With his mask rumpled up around his nose, you’re gifted with an incredible view of the way his teeth are sunk into his lower lip. Each time he sinks his cock into you again, he makes a raspy little groan, eyes fluttering briefly shut. It’s so painfully endearing that your heart quivers in your chest.

Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist — any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless, your legs slipping everytime his ass flexes with his thrusts. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time he ruts into you. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. Part of you marvels how you’re even able to fit him inside you.

“Never seen you look like this,” he grunts. “All fucked-out and perfect.”

Ghost leans in again, grips your legs so he can rearrange them over his shoulders, and you think you might die. The angle is different and somehow, impossibly, Ghost is fucking into you even deeper. You think you might actually be crying. There’s no question as to whether you’re drooling.

Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life. He doesn’t even seem to notice the sting of your nails scratching him; or perhaps it only urges him on, because his movements take on an edge of desperation.

“Gorgeous girl,” He grits out, jaw clenched. “Squeezin’ so tight. Fuck. Gonna make you cream.”

 You had forgotten about his promise to make you come, too lost in the hazy pleasure of his cock. But now it seems as though he’s been seized by the compulsion to fuck you to the edge; he reaches a hand down so that his thumb can join the fray, and it startles you into moaning breathlessly aloud. 

His thumb is merciless against your clit. You’re vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you, and he takes full advantage. His fingers are thick and blistering hot as he rubs at you, and you choke as your toes curl.

“Simon–” You manage to eke out before you lose the weak thread of your thoughts, scattering into nothing as he stimulates the stiff bead of your clit. 

He grunts to show that he’s heard you, but he doesn’t seem any more capable of words than you are as he rocks into the cradle of your hips. You’re practically blinded by your wet eyes, blinking frantically to try and clear your vision as you reach out clumsily to throw your arms around Ghost’s blisteringly hot neck.

It feels as though your skin is stretched too tight over your body, hot and prickly and too much. You’re trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as agonising pressure builds in your lower belly. 

“Fuck, love.” Ghost says, his voice little more than a snarl. “You gonna come?”

No, You think hazily. No, you never come. But even as you think it, part of you recognises that it’s never felt like this before. Your stomach tightens, toes curling, your lungs burning, your eyes rolling. You hardly even know what’s happening.

You recognise that something is building, but it almost seems secondary to the way that Ghost is rutting into you like a man possessed, hitting that spongey spot in the back of your pussy that you’ve never managed to reach yourself and making your legs spasm every time even as his thick thumb rubs frantic circles around the bump of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck–” You wheeze, bucking your hips against him.

It doesn’t grow and dissipate in the way you’re used to. Rather, it creeps up on you almost without you noticing, until you’re whimpering and clinging to Ghost like he’s a lifeline. Your bottom lip trembles as you sob weakly, practically on the brink of diving into an oncoming tidal wave of desire. Then that coil in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, sudden and sharp as a slap to the face. 

Your back arches, your vision whites out, and you cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Your cunts sucks tight around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. It feels so sweet, that white-hot buzzing pleasure rushing over you and wiping your brain completely clean. 

You’re a little delirious from being stuffed with such a fat cock; every thrust just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your very first orgasm out right away. It’s mindless ecstasy, your nails burrowing into the skin of his biceps as you desperately clutch at him for some kind of leverage. Ghost doesn’t falter, his hips continuing to work into you, wringing your orgasm out until you feel as though your brain is melting.

You sob – an actual, genuine, wet-sounding sob as your chest heaves for air and your eyes burn with overwhelmed, rapturous tears. Your head is spinning even as your climax subsides, leaving you limp-limbed and weak as Ghost continues rocking into you.

“Look so lovely when you come, sweetheart,” Ghost grunts into your ear, his bulky chest weighing you down as you clutch feebly at his shoulders. “God, that’s a sight. All for me, yeah?”

His praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes sting until there’s tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids. He sounds so smug, but you can’t deny that he has reason to be. He’s the first man to ever touch you, first man to ever fuck you, the first person to ever tip you over the edge and wring an orgasm out of you. Fuck, you think your brain might have been reduced to mush permanently; you wonder wildly if you’ll ever be the same after this.

Despite the sting of Ghost’s punishing thrusts into your already oversensitive cunt, your body sings for him. The rhythm of his hips is getting gradually sloppier, as though he doesn’t care as much for precision now that he’s succeeded in making you come. Soft, guttural little grunts fall from his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist to reposition you so that he can fuck quick and shallow. It’s almost tender, as though he’s aware of your growing sensitivity as you mewl under him.

There’s a profound, instinctual pleasure in seeing Ghost lose himself in your embrace. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded and his mask is still all rucked up, revealing the way his mouth is lolled softly open as he pants. You find yourself wishing feverishly that he had taken off his clothes too, because you think you would give anything to watch the roiling muscles of his chest and shoulders as he ruts into you.

Then just when you think you’re beginning to recover from the shattering, mind-numbing oversensitivity, Ghost comes inside of you.

He stops rutting to ride out his orgasm, his cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt. And he comes a lot. 

You’re stuffed so tightly with his cock that his cum has nowhere to go, and ends up leaking thickly from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he groans, blissed out as he finds release in your cunt. 

The minutes afterwards are a blur. 

You close your eyes for what feels like only a second, but the next time you blink your eyes open you find yourself feeling miserably, uncomfortably empty and sticky as all that oozy cum leaks out of you. You somehow missed Ghost pulling out of you, and your thoughts are muzzy and embarrassingly slow.

For a moment, you think you’re alone. You’re becoming more aware of yourself, and you realise that you’re shivering weakly alone in your sweat-damp sheets. Where did Ghost go? Part of you, still a little hazy, wonders if he had left you alone as soon as he had come, and you feel your lower lip tremble at the thought. 

God, you feel pathetic. You shift feebly on the sheets, and suck in a sharp breath when you feel the ache inside you, proof that you’re going to feel the shadow of Ghost’s cock for days. You feel drunk off the afterglow, yet you’re swiftly becoming more and more aware of yourself and all the aches and pains that are coming to the fore now.

It feels like you’re too big for your body, and you’re clumsy when you try to sit up. Pushing yourself up makes a whole new set of aches light up, and you let out a quiet keening grumble.

You’re so caught up with trying to ground yourself that you jolt in surprise when big, paw-like hands land on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. “Shh, hey, lay down.” Ghost says, the rough edges of his accent softened. To your bewilderment, he has a damp cloth in his hand; he went to the bathroom, you realise hazily.

Maybe it’s just because you feel raw after your experience with him, pulsing like an open nerve, but you sniffle and blink and then suddenly there are tears dripping down your face.

“Thought you left.” You mumble, trying not to sound like a needy little idiot.

Ghost glances up at you, unblinkingly. His mask is fixed firmly back in place, and he looks annoyingly put-together; it’s an embarrassingly stark contrast to the way you’re still nude and shivery and teary-eyed.

“No.” He says simply.

The damp cloth is warm when it makes contact with your skin, and you relax as he drags it along your sweaty back and over your legs. He’s a little rough about it, but you don’t think it’s on purpose. Gentleness doesn’t come naturally to Simon Riley, and yet you can feel that he’s trying and that makes a warm glow settle in your stomach, replacing the cold anxiety that had settled in when you thought that he had left you alone.

When the cloth reaches the tender skin of your pussy, you hiss and try to pull away. It all feels too sensitive, and you feel your face crumple up as he wipes away the mess of slick and cum between your thighs. He gentles his touch as much as he can, but you still mewl at the electric zaps of oversensitivity that jolt up your spine.

When Ghost pauses and pulls the cloth away from you, you blink your eyes awake. Your vision is still all wet and blurry from tears, but you can still see the shape of Ghost as he stares down at you. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, even after having been cleaned up, and Ghost’s stare is burning.

You wonder if he’s about to leave now – you can recognise this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and you just about manage to stifle the panic at the creeping realisation that you’ve just fucked your superior officer. Ghost must have realised at this point that the two of you had just ripped through all those fraternisation rules, though it’s always been difficult to tell what he’s thinking. But you trust him – you have to, in your line of work. You have to trust that he’ll handle things.

Ghost tosses aside the cloth, and his big overbearing body climbs back into bed beside you. It’s a standard-issue bunk, and yet it feels comically tiny when Ghost has been added to the mix. He’s surprisingly agile, even despite his big size, and you barely have time to realise that he’s joining you in bed before he’s wrapped a thick arm around your middle, hauling you closer.

You’d love to act chill and cool about the fact that he’s now essentially cuddling you, but you miss the mark by a long mile. You take a breath, and allow yourself to relax into his big burly chest. He’s still fully clothed, and the rough texture of his jeans against your tender bare skin makes you shiver lightly from oversensitivity.

Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, your joints weak and watery, and you’re perfectly content to close your eyes and forcibly ignore all your concerns about fraternisation or how you’re going to face Ghost in training. It’s a problem for another time.

“You still alive?” Ghost grunts, and his palm coasts down over your back to settle at your ass, his fingers squeezing absent-mindedly into the soft flesh there.

He sounds amused, which makes you grumble in irritation. He takes up so much space, his big body filling up all the free space on the bed and making you feel so fucking small as he holds you so that your back is pressed against his stomach.

“I dunno,” You mumble, words a little garbled. “Think… think you might have fucked me stupid, Lt.”

Lying like this, with his front pressed against your back, you can feel his laugh rumble into you. He’s touchy too in a way that surprises you; his hands are constantly moving, swiping over your sides and groping at any part of you that’s squishy-soft.

“Think I might have,” He agrees, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even if you can’t see it. “But I think you needed it, sweetheart. You were practically cryin’ out for it all day.”

You feel your face heat at the insinuation that he had noticed the arousal you thought you had hidden so well. But you still feel so fuzzy inside, and you can’t manage to drum up any genuine reaction.

Ghost’s roaming hand slips down between your legs, and you hold your breath as he reaches your swollen, tender pussy. His fingers are so big, but he’s aware of his strength and keeps his touch light, cupping rather than groping, his calloused palm catching on your puffy clit.

“Told you a real cock would be better,” He rumbles, and you feel the soft material of his mask rubbing against the back of your sweaty neck. “You’ve got a fussy little cunt – ‘s only gonna be satisfied by the real thing.”

You’d love to jab back at him, but the feeling of him rough palm against your oversensitive clit has your thoughts fizzing out into nothingness. All you can do is let out a quiet little whimper, and rock your hips into his touch. To your utter bewilderment, you feel your arousal, which you had previously considered entirely sated, pulse back to life.

As if Ghost can feel your cunt throb beneath his hand, he snickers. “Yeah. Fussy and greedy.”

He leans down, and you feel his lips brush against the back of your neck through the cotton of his balaclava. You quiver, and part your legs without conscious thought to give his thick fingers more room to work. Despite your exhaustion, and your soreness, and your sensitivity, you find yourself wanting. You wonder, with an edge of hysteria, if your body has somehow managed to rewire itself to only accept pleasure from your commanding officer’s hand.

“Ghost– Simon–” You breathe, your hips jumping as you grind into his palm.

“Yeah,” He says again, as though he knows exactly what you need and want. “One little orgasm wasn’t enough, was it?”

“No.” You choke out, throwing your head back so that it’s resting against Ghost’s broad chest. “No, ‘t wasn’t.”

You can hardly believe that your body is winding up for more, but Ghost’s touch is searing hot against your tender skin, and you can already taste the pleasure he’s going to bring you. This time, without the edge of urgency, you think you might even enjoy it more.

“Gimme five minutes,” He drawls, his voice low and muffled in your ear. “And I’ll give you your second.”

PLEASE POST THE DELETED SCENES WHEN THEY COME OUT

Sure! I made a collection of all the scenes I could find, please let me know if I missed anything 👀

Tonowari teaching Lo‘ak and Neteyam

Jake and Neytiri walking on a beach

Tsireya and Lo‘ak

Jake and Neytiri date night

Goodbye Mo‘at

Tsireya and Lo‘ak swimming

Ronal teaching Neytiri

Neytiris rage

Neytiris rage part 2

Neytiri spearfishing

The tulkun hunt

Quaritch and Ardmore

Spider mocking the Recoms

the way, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 (𝗦𝗡𝗘𝗔𝗞 𝗣𝗘𝗘𝗞)

"Listen," he interjected abruptly, his voice laced with a newfound determination. "I can tell you're a strong one, stronger than any Na'vi I've ever met." He skillfully redirected the conversation, steering it away from Spider, whose true identity as his "son" would remain concealed from the Na'vi woman until the time was right.

"And I could use that and that's why I'm here." he explained, his tone earnest and straightforward. "Help me and my team, and you can see your boy." He chose his words carefully, hoping that the simplicity of his message would resonate with her and convey the magnitude of what was at stake.

Ayteya's face contorted into a mixture of disbelief and amusement, her eyes narrowing in incredulity. "My help? You take me and my son, and you want me to help you? Are you sky people truly that arrogant?" Her words dripped with a blend of skepticism and defiance, challenging the Colonel's audacity.

The Colonel inwardly winced as her final words sliced through him, leaving a lingering sting. Perplexed by their impact, he pushed aside the surge of emotions they evoked to reveal his growing restlessness. "Do you wanna see Spider, or not? Because one look from me and I can make sure you never see him again."

© jeepersbxch 2023

The Way, 𝐨𝐧𝐞

pairing. Original Female Character (Navi)/Recom Colonel Miles Quaritch

summary. The sky people are back and Navi imposters begin to invade the lands of Pandora.

warnings. violence, cussing, idk. i’ll be more thorough if this doesn’t flop. if this doesn’t flop, beware this is quaritch redemption fic.

A silence hung in the air as two figures crouched beneath the dense shrubs, concealed in the shadows of the forest. Out in the open, a fully grown yerik stood, its skin a dark blue, patterned with white and yellow stripes. Around its sloped scalp were its retractable fan structures, with their own patterns that resembled another pair of eyes to ward off predators. With its neck gracefully arched towards the forest floor, the yerik indulged in the flora it found to snack on, unaware of the danger lurking towards it. Suddenly, the sharp crack of a branch being broken jolted its attention back to its senses.

In an instant, its head jerked upwards, its fans retracting and bursting open in full bloom, while the rest of its body froze in alertness and possible fear. Diligently, its eyes scanned the area, searching for the source behind the noise, but were only met with shrubs, unaware of the figures hidden within them. With cautious steps, the yerik regains the confidence to continue eating.

Meanwhile, still concealed amidst the foliage, those two figures had their eyes fixated on the yerik with unwavering intensity. One was armed with a bow and a quiver that was brimming with arrows, while the other stood as silent encouragement, cautiously guiding the others' every move.

In a moment of uncertainty, a pair of brown eyes met a pair of green ones, their gazes locking in an unspoken connection. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, a soft gleam emanated from the green eyes, instilling a newfound confidence within the owner of the brown eyes. With this surge of assurance, they prepared their bow.

A heavy silence settled between them. The air seemed to hold its breath, as if the world itself recognized the weight of the moment. In this intense stillness, the pair of green eyes watches their companion with a tender fondness, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of their lips. Pride blossomed within their chest as the other took a deep breath, their body aligning with precision and purpose. The brown-eyed archer exuded a quiet determination, ensuring that their posture and aim were flawless. And then, in a moment that seemed endless, the arrow was released, soaring through the air with a graceful purpose.

With a dull thump, the yerik falls to the ground, thrashing violently as it lands on its side. With only a few minutes until the adrenaline wears off until the creature can feel the pain of being pierced by the arrow, the two figures quickly make their way towards it.

In a swift motion, a young human boy with large brown eyes gently places his bow aside, reaching for a dagger that rested by his side. Kneeling beside the squirming beast, the boy speaks in a low voice, his tone gentle and genuine.

"Oel ngati kameie, ma tsmukan, ulte ngaru seiyi irayo."

I see you, Brother, and I thank you.

"Ngari hu Eywa salew tirea,"

Your spirit will run with Eywa.

"Tokx 'ì'awn slu Na'viyä hapxì."

While your body will remain and become part of the People.

With those words spoken, the boy takes his dagger to the creatures hidden heart and with focused determination, sinks his blade deeps into its chest. His eyes close, the words "thank you" and prayers of Eywa playing over and over again in his head as the creature finally succumbs to the darkness, it's spirit landing back into Eywa's welcoming arms.

As the creature draws it's last breath, the green-eyed observer's heart swelled with admiration, knowing that the young man had embraced his true potential in that single, decisive act.

A hand, tinted in a serene shade of blue and adorned with four fingers, gently extends itself over the boy's shoulder. He instinctively turns his head, his eyes meeting the gaze of the woman he cherished.

"You've accomplished a clean and respectful kill, my little warrior." The na'vi woman praised with a beaming smile adorning her lips, "Well done." She added, making sure her words pierced deeply into his heart, leaving no doubt about how proud she truly was.

"I see you, sa'nok." The boy expresses, his words carrying a deep sense of recognition and appreciation.

"And I see you, my son."

"Whoo!"

"Go, Monkey Boy!"

"Guys, wait up!"

The day is bright and warm, creating a comforting atmosphere for the four hyperactive children that ran along the heavy tree lines, jumping and flying through the air, effortlessly moving from one branch to the next. Making their way deeper into the forest, they remained close as they ran together and navigated the terrain. Their apparent bond showed through their adventure as they all smiled and laughed with one another. As the four of them continued on, one decided to stay behind for a bit to play with a wiggling plant.

"Tuk! Keep up!" Called Lo'ak.

"Okay, okay." Tuktirey, or Tuk, responded in an exaggerated breath.

Catching up with others, Tuk's steps fall right behind theirs again and they all traveled once more together as a group.

"Bro, why'd you bring her anyway?" Spider questions as he descended from a branch, landing skillfully on his feet.

The group naturally slows to a halt as Lo'ak goes to explain the presence of his youngest sister.

"She's such a crybaby," he complains. "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'" He adds, mimicking his baby sisters high-pitched voice.

"Don't pick on her," Kiri is quick to defend.

However, it seems that Tuk doesn't take Lo'ak's words to heart or is just too childish to care about her brother's teasing because all she does to retaliate is stick her tongue out at him.

With a roll of his eyes, Lo'ak begins running again, waving his arm for the others to follow, along with a "come on!"

A couple of minutes later, they come across something tangled within the branches and vines of the gathering trees.

"Oh, sick!" Spider exclaims with excitement as he gets closer to the battered aircraft.

"Are there any dead bodies up there?" Tuk's voice echoes as the two boys climb higher to investigate further.

As the three of them continue their playful exploration and examination of the human aircraft, Kiri ventures out on her own, heading deeper into the forest. She extends her arms out, relishing the feel of the different flowers and leaves caressing her skin, a smile of awe and amazement framing her lips.

Enchanted by the beautiful creations of Eywa, the presence of the others fades into the background as Kiri lies upon a patch of grass that appears to be breathing in harmony with her own. Comfortable in the embrace the grass offers, she is lulled into a trance-like state before falling into a peaceful sleep.

"Dude, your dad is gonna freak if he finds out about this," Spider playfully chides as he attempts to peek through the shattered window of the spaceship.

"What dad doesn't know won't kill him. Besides, lets not pretend your mom is any better." Lo'ak taunts back, his lips pulled up into a mischievous smirk.

Spider snorts at that remark, "At least she's cooler than your dad." He playfully jabs.

"My father is the Toruk Makto! No one is cooler than him." Lo'ak exclaims with pride, thumping a fist against his chest.

Amongst the conversation, Spider laughs, "Toruk Makto or not, my mother can still kick his ass any day of the week. And you know it too!"

Though it was very true that Spider's adoptive mother could take Jake down in a matter of seconds during combat, Lo'ak went on in his denial, whining about how it wasn't true, despite witnessing his father get his ass handed to his by his mother's cousin a numerous amount of times. Before Spider could get pulled further in by Lo'ak's antics, he veers off after noticing one of his friends missing.

Passing through the cascading plants, he stumbles upon a secluded patch of grass and nestled in the center of it lies Kiri, sleeping soundly as atokirina's from the Tree of Souls dances around her body. He quickly walks over to her, dropping to his knees at her side to shake her awake.

"Kiri, Kiri," he said her name persistently until her eyelids finally fluttered open, awakening her from sleep.

With a heavy body, she sluggishly rises and shifts her posture to meet Spider's gaze, weariness displayed across her face.

"I was doing that thing again, wasn't I?" Kiri asks solemnly, toned with self-awareness.

"Yeah, you were," Spider replies, his voice accompanied by a gentle swatting motion to push the seed that swayed around his face.

The gentle smile of Spider's face brightens the na'vi girl's spirit and for a moment, the two share a comforting silence, smiling at each other before Kiri's name is being called upon by her brother and sister.

The soft grin on Spider's face brightens the spirit of the na'vi girl. In that short moment, a comforting silence envelops them both, as they exchange smiles filled with solace. However, their tranquil few seconds are abruptly interrupted when Kiri's name is being called upon by her siblings.

"Kiri! Come on, we have to go!" Tuk exclaims urgently.

With Spider's gentle assistance, Kiri gracefully rises from the lush green grass and four of them begin their trek back home. With Lo'ak in the lead, they proceed along a sturdy tree trunk, their footsteps blending with the symphony of the forest. The rustling leaves and distant calls of wildlife surround them, creating a harmonious backdrop for their journey home. Until, Lo'ak noticed something imprinted in the mud.

Ignoring the question from his sister, he is followed by Spider to get a closer look tracks. The print resembles a foot of some kind, a two legged creature, but it was not from na'vi, as it seemed whoever left the footprints behind was wearing shoes. Humans?

"It's way to big for a human." Lo'ak informs before looking further along the path to see more footprints.

"Avatar?" Spider questions, his brown eyes swimming with concern, earning a distraught look from Lo'ak.

"Maybe, but they're for sure not ours."

With a piercing screech, the majestic ikran soared through the skies, its wings slicing through the air. The predominant hue of its skin was mostly a dark shade of green, with delicate traces of magenta and purple adorning certain areas, creating a captivating color scheme. Its eyes, on the other hand, gleamed with a mesmerizing golden hue, adding charm to its appearance.

It's rider, perched atop the creature's back, smiled contentedly while surveying her surroundings with tranquility. But her attention was pulled away from the peaceful views of her home when her name was called upon.

"Ayteya!"

The green eyes of the rider followed the sound of the voice, leading her gaze to another Na'vi woman gracefully perched atop her own ikran. A wide smile spread across the newcomer's face, mirroring the rider's joy. The connection between the two were evident as they skillfully maneuvered their ikrans around each other in a synchronized dance. Amidst the graceful movements, Ayteya called out to her cousin, her voice carrying a sense of familiarity and warmth.

"Your mate seems rather slow today, my dear cousin!" Ayteya's voice carried across the wind, laced with playful banter and affectionate teasing.

Neytiri glanced over her shoulder, ensuring the well-being of her mate, before turning her gaze back to Ayteya, a genuine smile gracing her features.

"He worries endlessly for our youngest children," Neytiri confided, her voice tinged with a mix of fondness and concern. "Despite my reassurances, he still mopes," she added, a hint of playfulness in her tone. The bond between them allowed for open conversation about their shared responsibilities and the quirks of Jake Sully.

Speaking of the mighty Toruk Makto, Jake finally catches up with his mate and cousin-in-law, wearing a slight pout on his face. "I don't mope!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness.

Ayteya couldn't help but burst into laughter at his response. "Of course, brother!" she retorted, playfully teasing him in return.

Just as Jake was about to respond, a resounding "whoop" pierced the air, capturing everyone's attention. Suddenly, like a streak of lightning, the eldest of the Sully children soared through the sky astride his ikran. A radiant smile adorned his face, mirroring the striking resemblance of both his parents.

"So, what is this I hear about Dad moping?" Neteyam inquires with an amused expression.

Ayteya and Neytiri burst into giggles, sharing a playful moment as Jake shoots his oldest son a deadpanned look, laced with a hint of mischief.

"Better watch yourself, kid," Jake jests, joining in on the playful banter.

Undeterred by the floating mountains that encircled them, the four continued their flight, their ikrans gracefully weaving around each other in perfect harmony. With nimble maneuvers, they skillfully swerved left and right, effortlessly avoiding the colossal obstacles that loomed in their path.

As Ayteya rode on her ikran, her thoughts drifted towards her only child, who was undoubtedly with the rest of the Sully children, causing trouble. Spider was a good and respectable boy. She had no worries that he would be on his best behavior. But with Lo'ak, who knew what those two could get themselves into. Memories of when Spider and Lo'ak were young swam through Ayteya's mind, causing a heartwarming smile to appear on her lips.

Though the two of them could get into some serious trouble, Ayteya was grateful that her son had such a strong friendship, not only with Lo'ak but also with the rest of the Sully children. Just then, the thought of Jake and Neytiri entered her thoughts and a small frown catered her lips. Jake was a loyal and kind Olo'eyktan, and it was no surprise that he welcomed Spider when hearing of the boys birth that occurred before the war amongst the sky people even began. After all, Jake Sully was born human. His sympathies towards Spider helped calm Ayteya's worries if something were to happen to her.

She knew that the great Toruk Makto would watch over her son if the need arose. It was his mate, and her dear cousin, that caused her stress.

Spider was a mere newborn after the war ended, a child created by the sky peoples deity, only to be born in the arms of Eywa. Raised among the Na'vi, he embraced their ways and cherished the village as if he shared the same blood as them. Ayteya knew of Neytiri's apprehension towards their adopted son and understood her guarded nature to a certain degree. However, it left her perplexed and uncertain in certain aspects.

In the depths of her heart, Ayteya held onto a glimmer of hope that, despite her perpetual confusion, Neytiri would safeguard Spider as if he were her own flesh and blood in case something were to happen to her.

Lost in her thoughts, Ayteya failed to notice as Jake's youngest son spoke through the comms that all the Sully's were provided with.

"Devil Dog, this is Eagle Eye, over." echoed Lo'ak's voice through the small speaker.

Jake's finger instinctively pressed against the button on the collar encircling his neck, and he swiftly replied, "Eagle Eye, send your traffic."

In that moment, Neytiri clicked her tongue to grab her cousin's attention. Ayteya's gaze shifted towards Neytiri, who subtly nodded her head towards her mate. Ayteya's eyes then turned to Jake, her expression tinged with uncertainty.

"I got eyes on some guys." Ayteya could hear Lo'ak's voice crackling through the speaker. "They look like avatars, but they're in full camo and carrying ARs."

Ayteya glanced back and forth between Neytiri and Jake, the three of them exchanging indecipherable glances.

"There's six of them, over." Lo'ak finishes.

Ayteya could hear Jake asking where Lo'ak was located, but an unsettling silence hung in the air before the young boy finally responded to his father. His delay filled Ayteya with a sense of worry.

"We're at the old shack," Lo'ak informed nervously, causing Neytiri's and Ayteya's eyes to widen.

"Who's 'we'?" Jake asks sternly.

Lo'ak's voice faltered for a moment, his words hanging in the air, "Me, Spider-" The mere mention of her son sent a jolt through Ayteya's heart, causing it to momentarily freeze. "Kiri... And Tuk," he finally added, his voice filled with a mix of worry and shame.

As the name of their youngest is uttered, a flicker of uneasiness crossed Neytiri's eyes as she gasps quietly. Jakes eyes hardened as his he lowers his voice.

"Son," Jake's voice resonated with authority, "you listen to me very carefully." His words carried a sense of urgency. "You pull back right now. Do not make a sound."

The sound of Jake's instructions caused Ayteya's heart to quicken its pace. Her mind became consumed with thoughts of her beloved Spider, her precious son. Was he alright? Would he he be alright?

"You get the hell out of there." Jake's voice demanded, "Move, you copy?"

"Yes sir, moving out." Is all Lo'ak reply before cutting out.

A deafening silence hung in the air, broken only by the sudden appearance of Neteyam, who swiftly flew to the front of the group.

"Dad, I know a a quick way!" he exclaimed, his voice filled determination.

Ayteya wasted no time in following closely behind Neytiri and Jake as they soared through the air, trailing behind Neteyam. It was in this moment, as they flew in close proximity, that Ayteya became acutely aware of the approaching eclipse. The darkness loomed ominously, casting an eerie shadow over their path.

The time slipped away from Ayteya as worry consumed her and before she knew it, they reached their destination, guided by Neteyam's lead. The trio followed him to a halt, their ikrans gracefully landing on the side of a towering tree.

Ayteya swiftly patted her ikran on the side of its head, expressing her gratitude before disconnecting her tswin. Positioned at the side of her loyal companion, she reached for her bow and arrows, ensuring they were ready for use. She also made sure her daggers were securely fastened at her side, ready to be drawn if needed.

As Jake and Neytiri prepared themselves for the next move, Jake suddenly halted Neteyam from moving forward with them.

"No, no," Jake instructed firmly, his voice filled with concern. "You stay with the ikran." He emphasized, his fatherly instincts kicking in.

"But dad... I'm a warrior like you. I'm supposed to fight!" Neteyam argued, his voice filled with determination and a desire to prove himself.

"Neteyam..." Neytiri warns.

As the three continued their discussion, Ayteya stood a few feet ahead, her mind consumed by thoughts of Spider. Her heart ached with worry for her son, and her thoughts swirled with a mix of fear and determination. Despite understanding Jake's reasons for needing to have a conversation with his eldest, she couldn't help but feel that they were wasting precious time. However, just as irritation began to creep into her thoughts, Jake and Neytiri swiftly approached her.

Covering a mere half-mile on foot, they arrived at the children's location, only to find the sun had already disappeared and rain had started falling. Navigating through the dense undergrowth in the darkness, Ayteya and Neytiri inhaled the surrounding air. The unmistakable aroma of Spider's scent filled Ayteya's senses, momentarily calming her racing heart before her anxiety resurfaced. The presence of other unfamiliar scents were mixed into the air as well.

With simple hand gestures from Jake, the three all moved in different directions. While Neytiri went left and Jake went right, Ayteya moved straight ahead. Clutching her bow tightly, an arrow ready for release, she cautiously advanced, seeking refuge behind one of the many trees. Peering ahead, her gaze descended into the thick undergrowth, where she could see movement. In her line of sight and through the thicket of the rain, she spotted Tuk, her wrists bound tightly, held captive by someone that looked similar to the avatars that were allowed to to stay on Pandora.

Ayteya's heart skipped a beat as her eyes fell upon a sight that froze her in her tracks. Not far from Tuk was Kiri and Spider. Their wrists were tightly restrained and they too were being held by someone. Witnessing the Na'vi imposter's rough treatment of her son ignited a fiery rage within her.

Glancing to her left, Ayteya locked eyes with Neytiri, who offered a brief nod of acknowledgement, silently conveying their shared determination.

As Ayteya refocused her gaze on the scene below, Neytiri parted her lips, emitting a subtle yet powerful bird-like sound that resonated through the air.

Observing the flicker of recognition on the children's faces, Ayteya received a confirming nod from Neytiri. Emboldened, she parted her own lips, releasing a resonant bird-like call that echoed through the forest, blending in with the symphony of raindrops cascading around her.

In response to her call, Ayteya observed a glimmer of light in Spider's eyes. Within in him sparked hope, encouraging her to repeat her call again. She watched as Spider and Lo'ak shared a look before nodding towards each other. This was it.

Turning her gaze towards Neytiri, Ayteya found her cousin already poised with her bow, ready for action. Following her lead, Ayteya swiftly raised her own bow, her skilled eyes fixated on the imposter who held her son captive. With unwavering determination, she aimed her arrow, ready to strike with precision. She waited and waited until Neytiri finally made the first move.

Reacting swiftly, Ayteya released her arrow, watching as it soared through the air with deadly accuracy. The arrow found its mark, piercing the skull of who held Spider and Kiri against their will. As the imposter holding Tuk crumpled to the ground as well from Neytiri's arrow, the sudden turn of events unleashed chaos.

"Contact rear!" a voice growled, followed by another echoing the warning. In a swift response, the captives, armed with guns, unleashed a barrage of shots towards their assailants. The crackling sound of gunfire filled the air as Ayteya crouched down, shielding herself from the stray bullets that whizzed through the air.

"Lo'ak!" Neytiri's voice rang out, and in an instant, a dense fog-like smoke enveloped the surrounding area. The smoke billowed and swirled, obscuring the vision of their enemies and providing a shield of concealment.

With his sharp teeth, Lo'ak sank his fangs into the arms of his captor, freeing himself from their grasp. Ensuring Tuk was with him, they swiftly scampered away, seeking cover amidst the chaos. Spider and Kiri were already running away by then, and Ayteya's gaze followed them. Her heart clenched with a mix of fear and helplessness, but she steeled herself, readying her bow once more.

With a steady hand and unwavering focus, Ayteya released another arrow, watching as it found its mark, piercing the chest of another imposter. With another threat extinguished, Ayteya catches sight of Spider again, who helps guide Kiri away from the fight, ensuring her safety above all else.

'Great mother, please watch over the children.' she thinks before looking back at the fight.

In a fleeting instant, the relentless downpour of bullets comes to a halt, casting an eerie stillness upon the warring factions.

With her arrow poised, Ayteya casts a wary glance towards Neytiri, who returns her gaze with a hint of uncertainty. It's then, a voice, unfamiliar to Ayteya, speaks out.

"That you, Mrs. Sully?" The unknown male asks.

As confusion etches itself onto Ayteya's face, Neytiri's expression morphs into one of subtle horror, her features contorted by a chilling realization. The reaction of her cousin has Ayteya on edge as the male down below speaks again.

"I recognize your calling card." He says before pausing.

The next few moments are silent again, time seeming to stand still, prompting Ayteya to cautiously peer around the tree that shields her. But just as she does, the voice from before speaks again, causing her to quickly duck behind the tree.

"Why don't you come on out, Mrs. Sully." The voice taunts as he refers to Neytiri, "You and I... We've got some unfinished buisness."

Listening intently, Ayteya catches a glimpse of Spider and Kiri running farther from the fight, allowing her to lean back against the tree momentarily, carefully thanking Eywa.

Gazing back at her cousin once more, she observes the transformation of Neytiri's expression, as her face twists into a restrained fury.

"Demon!" Neytiri growls, "I will kill you as many times as I have to!" She adds, her voice dripping with venom.

The threat seems to go unnoticed, as the fake Na'vi taunts, "It seems you and the Corporal have been pretty busy, haven't you? Dropped yourself a whole litter of half-breeds."

Ayteya's attention is abruptly drawn to the sound of a branch snapping. As she turns her head, her eyes widen in horror as the barrel of a gun is aimed directly at her face. The imposter behind the weapon smirks with malicious intent, relishing in the power he holds. However, before his finger can tighten around the trigger, an arrow pierces through his chest. He crumples to the ground lifeless, but Ayteya's focus remains fixed on Neteyam, who still stands in a shooter's stance.

"Na'vi!" A voice, different from the one that was speaking, shouts. Just as Neteyam attempts to prepare another arrow, a hail of bullets comes hurtling towards them.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Jake comes charging in, swiftly pushing his son out of harm's way. He then grabs Ayteya by the arm, forcefully pulling her away from the imminent danger and the three begin to run.

"Move!" Jake yells, "Go, go, go!"

He pushes Neteyam ahead and then Ayteya as bullets spray around them. As Ayteya moves to find cover behind another tree, the other two do the same.

"You okay, boy?!" Jake asks, receiving a swift "yeah" in response from Neteyam.

Ayteya can sense Jake silently asking her the same question with his eyes, to which she nods in affirmation. He gives her a nod back before speaking to both of them.

"Okay, with me! Ready?" Jake instructs, earning a nod from the two of them.

As the barrage of bullets finally ceases, Jake swiftly emerges from his hiding spot behind the tree and retaliates with his own shots. Simultaneously, Ayteya, positioned behind her own tree, releases an arrow with precision. Another round of bullets erupted and in the midst of the chaos, Jake urgently shouts at them to move, urging them to move to safety.

They all resume running, but as Ayteya leaps over a fallen tree, a searing sensation pierces her side. The impact of a bullet jolts her body, causing her to collapse to the ground.

"Ayteya!" she hears Neteyam's desperate shout.

"Run, boy!" she manages to shout back, but Jake leaves no room for hesitation and forcefully pushes Neteyam further away. As Ayteya attempts to rise, she slips in the muddy terrain and stumbles down a steep hill. Despite the pain coursing through her side, she fights to regain her balance, eventually clutching onto a sturdy vine.

"Ayteya!" she hears her name being called once more, this time by Jake.

"Focus on the children! Keep them safe!" she yells through a strained voice, her hand firmly pressed against the spot where the bullet struck her.

With adrenaline coursing through her veins, Ayteya takes a deep, painful breath and summons every ounce of strength within her. Gripping tightly onto the vine in her hand, she musters the determination to pull herself upright, despite the searing pain that radiates through her body. Letting out a pained growl, Ayteya shakes her head vigorously from side to side, attempting to alleviate the pounding sensation in her head and regain control of her blurred vision.

Despite her swaying eyesight, Ayteya begins to move her feet, placing one carefully in front of the other. The rain pouring down adds to her challenge, but with each step, she focuses on finding her balance and establishing a steady pace, determined to keep moving forward despite the pain and disorientation.

"Ahh!" A pained shout reaches her hears and the vocal tone she is familiar with makes her breath hitch.

Frantically, Ayteya scans her surroundings, desperately calling out the name of her son, "Spider!" Her voice carries a sense of helplessness, but as black spots start to cloud her vision and the rain intensifies, her ability to see clearly diminishes.

The weight of the situation bears down on her, making her feel increasingly vulnerable and disoriented. Tears well up in Ayteya's eyes, but as she takes a step towards the direction of her son's cry, something collides with the side of her head, causing her to collapse to the ground once again.

Her vision blurs even further, but determined to keep going, she quickly sits up, despite her limbs moving sluggishly. Through the haze, she catches sight of a figure moving in front of her. It stands tall on two feet, and she senses immediately that it is not friendly. With the last bit of strength in her, she produces a menacing hiss and prepares herself for whatever danger may come her way.

"Well, ain't you a tough cookie?"

That voice.

'Great Mother, please watch over my son.' Is all Ayteya can think as the blurry figure comes closer. Once more, a hiss escapes her lips, yet even the sound itself wanes in strength.

"Rank up. We're taking her and the boy," the voice echoed once more, but Ayteya struggled to comprehend its words.

Numbness consumed her, rendering her unable to feel anything. Yet, amidst the void, her thoughts raced, fixating on her son's innocent smile that brought her immeasurable joy.

"My son." She whispers before falling unconscious.

A pulsating ache enveloped Spider's skull, muddling his senses. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he caught glimpses of towering trees and the ethereal night sky of Pandora swirling above him. He sensed his body being lifted, but the identity of his carrier eluded him and the exhaustion drained him of any will to care. His head limps to the side, unable to keep the strength to hold it up any longer. It's then he spots a familiar body being carried by someone, just like him

As his eyes widened, Spider's vision blurred, the world around him becoming hazy and indistinct. He could sense his eyelids growing heavy, threatening to seal shut. Yet, before succumbing to the depths of his own darkness, he summoned the last remnants of his strength to whisper a single word to the one he cherished above all else.

"Sa'nok."

⇢ next

I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing. I wrote this awhile ago cuz I wanted to write a story, but now I’m not sure. But I’m so proud of this ‘chapter’ that I didn’t want to not post it, y’know? Idk, I might continue on with this story, but I’m not sure. Your feedback and reblogs are so greatly appreciated though.

© jeepersbxch 2024