Yawnyewla | Broken-hearted

yawnyewla | broken-hearted

summary: the tipani clan, located deeply hidden in the jungle, the people are perhaps the fiercest warriors amongst the extrasolar moon— and you are one of them. you’re an indigenous na’vi, who has recently wedded her best friend, eyturi— but all in one day, everything you’ve ever loved is snatched right out of your hands. on a leisurely flight with your mate, you’re ambushed by the rda, and separated from your ikran and eyturi, causing you to free fall into the jungle below you, right into omatikaya territory; the one place you do not want to be.

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!na’vi reader

warnings: mention of character death, blood, violence, injury, arguing, overall sadness :’( #sorry

note: i’m starting anotha series for y’all <3 u better read it and leave feedback my ego is starving

the bond between a na’vi and their ikran is unlike any other. never to bond with another na’vi, they are like a swapxì- a family member.

to fly is to be free; to be free is to be connected to the all mothers spirit. 

the wind flows through your hair, and the beads that adorn your braids rustle from the gust. you let out an ecstatic laugh, leaning back with your arms extended away from you; mimicking the wings of the bird beneath you. 

your gaze drifts over to your companion soaring beside you, the wide smile on your face mirrors the expression of your mate— eyturi, that is. 

the tipani warrior has been your best friend since the beginning of time. once you both became of age, the na’vi man swooped in to court you before any other man could. resulting in him bonding with you alongside eywa—making him your lifelong mate. 

you have never been happier in your life.

eyturi points at the floating mountain you’re growing closer to. he sends a wink your way as his ikran gains speed to cut in front of you, soaring directly under a waterfall cascading off the island. 

his ikran flaps it’s large striped wings, sending a mist of water directly over your head. the coolness of the liquid chills your heated skin, but you gasp from the shock of it nonetheless. 

your mate peers down at you from above, cackling as he holds his stomach from his laughter. your eyebrows knit in the middle with a determined smirk, “you will pay for that!” your grip tightens on the reins as you fly upwards to him. 

his eyes gawk at your beauty as you ascend in the air, a proud grin on his chiseled face. even knowing you his entire life, your beauty is still extraordinary to him. 

you admire his armor, made from the shell of the mighty txursum, “are you just going to sit there and stare, ma tìyawn?” he questions sassily with the nickname that makes your knees go weak. 

just as you’re about to respond with a witty comeback, something dark emerges from behind one of the islands in the sky. your bloodstream runs cold— the sky demons, they’re here. 

eyturi notices the change in your demeanor, following your gaze to the target that has taken your attention away from him. the sound of the powerful engines of the aircraft grows louder as it barrels toward the both of you. 

“we must fight!” he shouts, “eyturi! it is too dangerous!” you cry out in distress, “we must for our people! for pandora!” he hollers and yips, as he pumps his weapon into the air and takes off toward the gunship. 

you let out a vicious hiss directed at him, “aaah!” frustrated with him from not listening to you. you reach behind your back to slide your bow in front of you before taking off to follow him. 

“yi-yi-yi-yiaah!” you cry out piercingly, eyes squinted menancingly. 

eyturi swoops in upside down over the top of the gunship, taking out the passenger pilot with an arrow. 

his ikran glides down the side of the ship, and disappears behind the side of the mountain to dodge the bullets flying at him. he appears over top of the rocky side, sending another arrow at the sky demon. it hits the one wielding the side gun and pierces the demon right in the chest. 

you soar right on his tail, eyes peering into the inside of the ship as another sky demon replaces the dead one. the gun cocks as it reloads, his finger freely presses against the trigger to send multiple rounds at the two of you.

eyturi circles the plane, dodging one of the engines as the pilots attempts to squash him into the rocky side of a mountain. he’s thrown off guard by the sudden movement, twirling around the ship to the other side. 

you dodge the fire coming from the other side of the ship, twirling and darting through the air frantically.

the ship takes its attention off of you as eyturì bolts beside it with his bow loaded with an arrow. you spin your ikran around to head back and help him, but it’s too late. 

a dreamwalker reloads another round into the gun, the loud click rings in your ears. a devilish smirk is plastered on their face as he the bullets fly right into the chest of eyturì. 

“no! no, no, no!” you cry out in pain as your eyes witness each bullet tear through his torso. his cold eyes trail over to you as he slips off the side of his ikran, breaking the bond with his animal. you let out another heart wrenching shriek as his body tumbles into the jungle below. 

the banshee beneath you whines from your shared pain, screeching and chittering. hot angry tears stream down your cheeks, the droplets smear the red and black war paint drawn onto your skin. 

before you’re able to properly mourn, the ship turns to beeline straight towards you, “come on, keyè! we have to go!” you sob at your banshee. she squaks and darts the opposite way. 

the whirring engines grow closer, and you can hear the shouting of a foreign language coming from demon bird. you drop down under the floating mountains, skimming the tops of the clouds. you swivel your waist to turn around while keeping your knees forward. 

plucking your last arrow from the sack hanging on your shoulder, you notch it into place against the string. sucking in a sharp fearful breath when the gun points downward at you from above. 

it’s now or never— you let out a guttural, bloodcurdling scream as the gun unloads rapid fire shots at you, and the arrow is released from your grip. 

keyè barrel rolls in the sky in order to take the full damage of the bullets to protect you, using her own body as a shield. your throat releases another pained howl as your sister is shot, feeling the burning pain inside of your own chest. 

the banshee releases the bond with you as she plunges toward the ground, “no! keyè!” you cry out after her, scrambling in the air as you free fall 

an explosion lights up the sky above you, sending a wave of heat over your descending body. your eyes stare in shock as the fireball engulfs the side of the mountain, sending shrapnel and debris down to chase you. 

you did it— you hit the engine…

the air whips beside your ears powerfully as your body is helplessly pulled to the ground. you must try your hardest to focus on grabbing the branches, it’s your only hope, but it’s harder than it seems. 

once you pass the treeline, your body is repeatedly striked by splintering wood as you tumble through the branches. your hands scramble to grip onto something to soften your blow, but you’re falling too fast. 

panic ensues when your brain quickly realizes you failed to break the fall. the ground is suddenly closer than it seemed, and your body slams into the ground with a loud crack, landing on your side atop of a log. 

your lungs punch out a pained wheeze, and a raspy sob. your sight fades in and out, but you can see the firey debris barreling towards you. 

with a loud shout, you slide your weak body off the side of the log, landing in a bed of plush grass with another painful thud. it’s a pain you’ve never felt before; it’s blinding, and inconsolable. 

you’re gasping for air as the pain sizzles at your nerve-endings, obliterating your muscles and bones. the debris from the ship lands beside you, barely missing your body— but somehow, you don’t seem to care if you were to be impaled. 

you can feel your consciousness slipping away from you, “eywa… please let me die a warriors death. let me join eyturi…” you manage to shakily murmur before you succumb to the darkness. the grip on the grass loosens as your hands fall limp 

—

“come on! we shouldn’t be out this far! dad is going to have us by our necks!” kiri whines in protest, but still continues to follow her brother and her human friend through the foliage.

“bro, we have to…” lo’ak’s voice fades as he steps a foot over a log. his eyes spot the familiar blue skin of a na’vi laying asleep in the small clearing of grass. you’re surrounded by shards of metal from the gunship that exploded, the one their dad specifically told them to stear clear of.

“dude… is that a na’vi?” spider mumbles from behind him, almost in shock as he looks over his two friends anxiously. 

lo’ak creeps forward slowly until he is fully over the log. the boy approaches your body apprehensively, his head twisting as he examines you, “no lo’ak!” kiri hisses at him, “you have to call it in to dad!” 

the sully boy squats down to your level, leaning forward to get a closer look. he admires the spiked hard-shelled armor that is formed to your shoulder, and travels across your chestpiece. he takes note of the striped paint that is now slightly smeared over your body. 

“i’ve never seen her before. she is definitely not one of us…” one of his hands reach out to press on a point under your jaw to seek out your pulse. 

“wait- she’s alive!” he calls out, his round eyes dart over the two standing off to the side. his other hand rises to his throat, pressing on his comm device to activate it. “dad, we found a girl… not one of us, but she’s hurt.” 

“is she alive?” his father answers, jake sully, the olo’eyktan of the omatikaya clan. 

“barely.” lo’ak huffs as he monitors your breathing. 

“where are you?” jake sully questions with a harsh tone. 

lo’ak shakes his head and takes a deep breath before replying, “just outside of camp… in the forest.. under hallelujah mountains.” lo’ak murmurs, his ears droop when his dad sighs in his ear. from obvious disappointment of lo’ak not listening to his previous orders to stay out of the area.

“wait, father! i’m close to his location, i’ll go.” lo’ak’s older brother, neteyam, joins in on the conversation. 

“alright, boy. go, and bring them all back to camp.” jake mumbles, and the conversation is cut. 

lo’ak’s shoulders slouch in annoyance as he stands up, “neteyam is coming.” he grumbles as he keeps his eyes trained on you.

kiri and spider decide since you’re unconscious, it should be safe enough to join lo’ak in the clearing with your body, “the paint… i’ve never seen anything like it. what clan is she from?”

“i don’t know, but i know she doesn’t look like you guys.” spider laughs almost nervously, and scratches the back of his head. 

kiri is squatted down beside you, one hand perched in the grass between her legs to steady herself. she leans forward, almost nose to nose with you as she admires the art on your skin. 

“and the armor. we don’t have anything like this.” her fingertips gently pokes at one of the spikes protruding from the shoulder plate. 

the loud flaps of a creatures wings stir up the brush of the forest, indicating neteyam has arrived. lo’ak is leaning against the trunk of a tree, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits for his brother to come to the rescue. 

neteyam sully, the eldest of the sully siblings. (otherwise known as the golden boy and the mighty warrior) he swiftly lands the ikran in the vegetation beside the clearing, leaping off of his animal to jaunt over to the others. 

he stops in his tracks as he absorbs the scene in front of him, “for some reason, i didn’t actually think you were being serious.” he stifles a chuckle in his throat as he takes a few steps toward you. 

he leans over, placing his hands on his knees as he analyzes your face, “she’s pretty beaten up. are you sure she is alive?” he asks as he slides himself between you and kiri. 

“yeah, bro. she’s alive. i checked.” lo’ak rolls his eyes, and unsheathes his knife to play with the tip of the blade in his fingers. 

neteyam continues to reach down to seek out your pulse to double-check his brothers work. the faint beating of your heart pumps against his index finger, “alright… okay.” he huffs out as he nervously talks to himself. he bends down fully, experimentally shaking at your shoulder to see if you were somehow just asleep. 

he admires your face for a moment, glancing over your skin and a cut that cuts into your cheekbone and through your eyebrow. you seem as if you’re around his age, so you must have made iknimaya… so where is your ikran?

when he tries for the third time, your eyes continue to stay shut. he decides to pick you up, and he slides an arm under your knees. his other arm supports the back of your neck and shoulders as he hoists you into up with a grunt, “i’m heading back to camp. you guys need to get out of here, we don’t know if there’s any thing else out here.” 

“fine.” lo’ak bites back, and storms away in the direction where he left his ikran. kiri gives neteyam a sympathetic look as she passes him, and spider nervously eyes you in his arms as he follows close to kiri. 

neteyam sighs into the warm air before making his way back to his ikran. the animal chitters softly, which causes your muscles to flinch in his hold. he stops in his tracks to look over your body, making sure you’re really unconscious before climbing onto the saddle. 

once you’re laid in his lap, one of his hands wrap around the leather string of the reins, “come on, let’s go home.” he mumbles to the animal, making its wings expand to take off. the banshee flaps his wings to gain momentum as it ascends into the sky, breaching the tree-line as it travels farther into the blue sky. 

the ikran coasts through the air, drifting around other floating islands as she makes her way back home. 

the feeling of cool air whipping past your face makes you smile, but it’s soon turned into a grimace from the pain that awakens inside of your body. you let out a soft groan as you wiggle against something sturdy, yet still soft underneath you. 

your eyes flutter open, instantaneously blinded by the brightness of the sky. maybe, you’re still falling to your demise, or maybe you’re still riding on keyè… through your blurry vision, a pair of round amber-colored eyes meets yours; a male na’vi, but you can’t make out their identity. is it eyturi?

“it’s okay. i’m going to help you.. stay with me!” his deep voice is soothing to you, but it rings deafeningly in your ears.

with the last bit of your strength, you raise your hand to cup his cheek, “ma muntxatan…” your voice croaks out. 

neteyam freezes from the nickname, shocked to his core. something flutters in his abdomen as he takes in what just happened— you called him your husband, your mate.. he almost catches a smile on your paled lips before the darkness clouds your vision, and your body goes limp in his arms once again. 

“ah shit- come on, tawmi. let’s go! yah!” he shakes the reins, urging the ikran to go faster. 

the high camp is located in a cave system that is only accessible to ikran’s through a crevasse in the rocky floor. the animal lands inside with a loud screech, alarming the people that neteyam has arrived with you. 

his father, the olo’eyktan, is standing off to the side speaking to a group of na’vi before turning his attention to the arrival of his son. 

“neteyam!” he shouts out as he strides over to the boy who is already walking up to him. his eyes look over the badly bruised and cut up body in his arms, “woah… okay. gimme her. we gotta get her to norm.” he opens his arms for neteyam to transfer you over to him. 

you whine in your sleep from the pain of being moved, which makes jake rush off even quicker towards the med bay. 

neteyam strides just as quick on his fathers heels, taking a step back when you’re laid down in an empty cot. “norm! over here!” he calls his friend over who rushes to your side with his modern equipment. 

the sully boy stands off to the side, his worried eyes taking in every little thing. he grimaces at the needle being stuck in the crook of your arm, and watches when medicine is pushed through the tube connected to you. 

jake works on unlatching your constricting armor pieces, which reveals even more deep bruising and cuts. norm is handed a retractable tablet from another na’vi, that opens up into a handheld x-ray machine. he scans over your body once you’re rid of your armor, examining your bones that show up on the screen. 

“her top left ribs are definitely broken, and i don’t see any internal bleeding. she just took a nasty fall. most likely has a concussion…” he puts down the x-ray to open your eyelids and shine a light into them, “but no obvious signs of brain injury.” 

“what can you do for her?” neteyam steps forward, his eyes flitting between his father and norm. 

“wrap it and ice it. give her some pain meds and hope for the best.” norm replies as he glances at jake. 

neteyam sighs in disappointment, wishing there was something else he could do for you; for some reason, there’s a little voice inside of his head urging him to protect you. 

“neteyam, go find your brother and sister. make sure they get home safe, ‘kay? your grandmother is coming, so we got this handled here.” jake shoos his son outside of the medical tent. 

the boys tail flicks out of his frustration and his ears flatten on the side of his head. he doesn’t understand why he is forced to go seek out lo’ak, kiri, and spider. they were the ones stupid enough to not listen, and he knows they’ll make it back on their own. 

the boy huffs and turns on his heel to walk out of the medical area. on the way back to his ikran, neteyam runs into his mother and grandmother walking together towards the tent, “mother!” he calls out and jogs to meet her halfway. 

“oh, neteyam.” she looks over her son for any injury before telling the tsahìk to continue on, “what is this girl that i am hearing about?” 

“lo’ak found her in the forest with kiri and spider,” his mother hisses at that sentence, obviously angry from her youngest son disobeying orders, “i was already scouting nearby, so i went to help him. she’s alive, but barely.” he shakes his head stressfully, running a hand over his face. 

“maitan…” she hushes her son, and places her hands on his shoulders, “who is she?”

“i don’t know. she is from a different clan, but she’s wounded, mother.” neteyam gulps anxiously. 

“your grandmother is a skilled tsahìk, she will heal her in no time-.” neytiri is cut off by a loud guttural scream coming from the med bay. 

neteyam and his mother rush back toward the tent, the sound of crashing metal and screaming worsens as they get closer. 

“hey, hey! calm down! we’re not going to hurt you!” jake sully has his hands up in the air as surrender, his eyes widening as he dodges another flying object aimed at his head. 

“you must calm down! be quiet!” mo’at yells at you from the side of your bed, but her voice falls upon deaf ears. 

“no! you are dreamwalker! a sky demon! get away from me! leave!” your voice screeches loudly as you chuck another item at norm’s avatar, “go! get outta here!” jake screams at his friend, who practically shits his pants and sprints out of the tent past neteyam. 

neteyam and his mother watch from the archway in shock from your feral demeanor. 

you leap up from your spot on the cot, squatting like a rabid animal as your wild eyes search for your weapons, “where am i? where are my things?!” you shriek. 

“bring me back to my people!” you grasp a fallen bowl from the tsahìks healing ritual to use as a weapon. you eyes dart over the people around you, chest heaving with exertion with your arm raised; ready to bash anyone in the head with the stone bowl who dares to come near you. 

then you see him. the bright-eyed boy from your dream, the one who saved you. 

the memories from before whirl back into your brain, sending a wave of nausea over your body, and the adrenaline is sucked from your body. your mate, your ikran… 

your balance falters slightly from your legs trembling under your weight. you topple back onto the bed with a sob, rolling onto your side as you painfully weep, “no, no… eyturi…. keyè…”

everything you have ever known has been torn apart in the span of a few hours— now to you your life is meaningless. why must eywa bring you back to pandora? why couldn’t she grant you a warriors death like you prayed for? 

neteyam watches as his grandmother pricks a sharp object at your skin, which somehow sedates you for the time being. your cries slowly fade away as you’re overtaken by sleep; he will never question the tsahìks ways, but it always confuses him. 

neytiri rushes to her husbands side to make sure jake is okay, checking him over as she angrily scolds him. 

neteyam takes a step inside the chaotically strewn room, minding his step as he weaves through the various pieces of equipment that litter the floor. 

“she is hurting very deeply. she has suffered a great loss, neteyam.” his grandmother softly breathes out as her watchful eyes gaze over your sleeping body. 

“what happened?” he pries slightly, eyeing his grandmother through his peripherals. 

“i do not know, but she is mournful. she needs guidance to seek her lost spirit.” she murmurs. 

neteyam watches how your muscles twitch as you come back to reality. how your nose scrunches up when you softly sniffle, and your body that begins to writhe on the rough fabric of the cot. 

you hiss, weakly baring your sharp fangs at the intimidating na’vi that surround you. then your eyes are back on his. 

the hardened expression on your face softens when you see him, turning glossy as more tears fall from your eyes. 

“i’m the olo’eyktan of omatikaya. i swear to you, that we are only trying to help.” he steps forward with his palms facing you, a sign of peace. 

“om-omatikaya..?” you answer as if you’re confused, “you are toruk makto?” you question with a wince. 

“yes, toruk makto!” jake exclaims with a grin, “that’s me.”

“i must to go back to my people.” you wheeze out as you grasp at your side, pawing at the darkened spot on your ribs. 

“you have to heal yourself first. we can do that here, but we need you to cooperate- to trust us.” jake steps toward you hesitantly. the memory of  how you were throwing things at his head still replays in his mind. 

“how will i trust you if i’m surrounded by dreamwalkers and demons?!” you hiss, which makes you grimace and your breath hitch from the pain. 

“they’re our friends. they’re not bad people.” jake tries to reason with you, but he’s met with an angry growl. 

“the tipani do not trust them. we do not engage in any sort of relationship with them.” your voice grows softer before you let out a hoarse cough. 

“the tipani..” neytiri speaks up as she steps forward, sliding around her husbands back to stand in front of him. 

“your people are great warriors…” her strong voice fades out as her mind works to put everything together— the armor, the paint, and the healed scars that litter your blue skin, “known to be the fiercest hunters.” 

you smile from her words, a genuine grin as your eyes flutter back over to the sully boy in the doorway. neteyam feels his chest heat up from your eyes on his, but he pushes the feelings down just as quick.

your body goes lax as you’re suddenly consumed by sleep, eyes fluttering shut. another symptom of whatever his grandmother pricked at your skin. 

“we must let her rest. everybody leave her here with me, i will take care of her.” mo’at looks over your resting body from beside your bed, but nobody makes any movement to leave.

“now! leave!” her voice demands, making everyone scatter out of the room like mice. 

“neteyam, one moment.” she calls to her grandson, making him stop in his tracks to turn her way.

“i see that she trusts you, more than any of us. once she awakens, you must look after her. to make sure she doesn’t…” her hands motion to the mess in the room, “…do this again.” 

neteyam sharply inhales through his nose and curtly nods at the tsahìk, “of course, grandmother.” 

“good. now go to your parents, i need to finish here.” she pats his upper arm as he passes her. 

neteyam walks out of the hut, glancing back one last time to peer at your sleeping form. the boy sucks in a worried breath before disappearing around the corner. 

his legs take him towards home, to his family’s hut in the middle of the camp. when he nears the entrance, he can hear his parents arguing, but it’s more like a disagreement than anything.

movement over to the side startles him, making him squint at the darkness beside the hut. he spots his siblings off to side eavesdropping, “neteyam!” his little sister tuk whispers harshly and motions with her hand for him to come. 

neteyam’s forehead crinkles in confusion as his eyes dart from his siblings and then to his parents inside. neteyam almost falls to the ground when his father abruptly looks his way, but he rolls to the side out of sight. 

small hands belonging to tuk attempt to help him up as he stands to his feet, “you okay?” kiri whispers from behind the little girl.

“yeah, yeah. i just hope he didn’t see me.” his voice is quiet as he breathes heavily. he boldly peeks around the side of the hut to look inside, only to see his parents are still busy talking to each other. 

“jake! my mother, the tsahìk, knows what she is doing! you should trust her!” neytiri hisses at her husband. 

“honey, i do trust her! it’s just that i don’t think we should be harboring this.. this girl. we should give her back to her people, to her clan! they’re going to come looking for her!” jakes voice raises, making his wife snarl in annoyance. 

“you do not listen!” her strong voice rumbles as she paces, “she is hurt, ma jake! she needs us—the omatikaya…” she speaks more softly to him, “we don’t even know where her clan is. they disappeared when those demons returned.” 

neteyam listens closely to his parents conversation with his eyebrows knitted together. 

he wonders why his father wishes for you to leave; maybe it’s because of your behavior, and how you threw multiple objects at his head. he knows his dad is protective, especially when it comes to his family. 

“let’s find neteyam. see how he feels about it.” he hears his dad speak out his name. his ears flatten and his eyes dart frantically over his siblings, “go, bro! or they’ll find us too!” lo’ak ushers him quietly from behind kiri, before stepping up and pushing him forward into the opening. 

just before jake starts to walk out of the hut, neteyam strides inside like he wasn’t just listening to their conversation. 

“um- everything okay? do i need to leave?” he questions stupidly as he busies himself to rummage for fruit in a basket. 

“yes, maite.. everything is okay. your father just wants to ask you something.” his mother speaks with her arms crossed over her chest, obvious frustration on her features. 

the woman motions with her head for jake to continue.

“your mother and i were talking about the girl your brother found, and i’m not entirely sure if it’s safe to keep her here.” jake stands tall with his hands on his hips, his eyes nervously dart between his wife and son. 

“well, grandmother seems to trust her.” neteyam points out, which makes his mother puff of a small bit of air through her nostrils— almost as if she is amused with his answer. 

her eyes stare daggers into the side of his fathers face, which just makes neteyam mentally laugh, “and she put me in charge of her once she is awake.” he takes a bite of the fruit in his hand.

both of his parents swiftly turn their heads to look at him with wide eyes, “she, what?” his mother is the first to speak. 

“she told me that the girl trusts me or something… i’m not sure.” he trails off as he chews, and crosses his arms over his chest as he looks over his parents. 

“well, if the tsahìk says so…” neytiri sharply eyes jake from her peripherals, “then your duty is to look after her.” neytiri curtly nods at her son, but jake let’s out an exhale. 

“do you think her people will come looking after her? will she put us in danger?” his father continues. 

“it may be a possibility, but she’s hurt, sir. you even saw that. she’s badly injured, and we can’t let one of our own out there by herself in that condition.” neteyam tries to calm his dad’s worries, but it seems to send him into a spiral. 

“do you think she had anything to do with that explosion earlier?” jake continues to ask questions, and neytiri scowls and slaps her hands down on her thighs out of annoyance. 

something clicks in his brain, as if a lightbulb turned on and shined a light over the subject, “yes, possibly… when i was bringing her back here, she said something to me about a mate, and then she passed out… again…” neteyam’s eyes look off to the side as his mind works through every scenario.

“because if she had something to do with it, that means the rda are getting closer to us and-.” jakes rambling is cut off by neteyam’s voice. 

“look… father, i’ll speak to her and see what i can get without upsetting her too much, and whatever i hear i’ll bring directly back to you.” neteyam nods softly, and stands up straighter with his shoulders pushed back. 

“okay, boy. yeah, that’s a good idea.” jake rubs his temples with one of his hands over his forehead, “go get some rest, i’ll go find your siblings. it’s gettin’ late and we all need some sleep…” 

jake takes a step towards the exit, and suddenly the group appears around the corner. all three of them yawn in sync as they shuffle inside as if they weren’t just eavesdropping. neteyam sees right through their facade, trying his hardest not to laugh at them.

tuk walks up to neytiri, while the other two tiredly wave and scurry into the pods that branch off from the main living area. 

neteyam takes that as a cue to head to bed to avoid any more questions from his parents. 

all he can think about is you— how badly wounded you are, and the cuts and bruises that litter your skin. he prays to eywa that his grandmother works her magic to heal you. he feels torn between whether to help heal his father’s mind, or to help you… 

the boy tosses and turns throughout his sleep, unable to find a comfortable position— or maybe it’s just his restless mind. he can’t stop thinking about how the previous events of the day played out, and he can’t stop picturing you in his head. 

he swiftly sits up out of his hammock and presses his feet to the floor; he must go see you. the sully boy silently sneaks out of his pod, and creeps toward the exit. he pushes back the drapes of fabric to duck beneath them, stepping outside. 

he takes a sharp breath of fresh air as he slithers throughout the silent village, but when he grows closer to the med bay he hears muffled sobs. 

neteyam peeks past the entrance, only his eyes visible if you would look his way. the first thing he spots is your back faced towards him, and notices that your entire torso is wrapped in a white bandage. you’ve been stripped of your jewelry and armor; the gauze covers your entire chest, even your breasts. 

his grandmother must’ve sedated you enough to allow norm to wrap you up— he wishes he could have seen your reaction when norm came back, oh to be a fly on the wall. he makes a mental note to ask him about it later. 

the light in the tent is dim, casting a golden hue over your trembling body. his own heart tugs at the sight before him, wishing he could go up and comfort you— but he doesn’t want to scare you. you have obviously been through a lot. 

neteyam takes a step back from the entrance, but runs right into a pile of crates stacked behind him. he attempts to rebalance himself, but his legs trip up and sends him hurtling towards the ground. 

your soft sniffles halt, the sound of the cot squeaks under your weight as you move, “who is there?” your shaky voice calls out. 

the boy sighs loudly, mentally cursing himself for being so clumsy. he pushes himself up from the ground to stand to his feet, his ears droop in embarrassment as he rounds the corner. 

you’re now sat up in the bed, with one arm wrapped around your side, gripping the spot where the pain thumps at your ribs. 

your fierce gaze softens when you see the omatikaya boy, “oh… it’s you.” you breathe out as your eyes examine his stature in front of you, “what are you doing here?” 

neteyam clears his throat and stands awkwardly in the doorway, “i’m just making sure you’re okay, but i seemed to have- uh.. gotten lost back there and tripped.” he admits with a chuckle, and scratches the back of his head as he glances to the side. 

your eyes can’t help but run up the expanse of his lean body when his arm raises, admiring how the skin stretches taught over his chiseled muscles. your eyes are quick to dart away from him when his eyes turn to you. quickly, you lay back down in the bed from your sat up position, letting out a pained breath as you lower your back to the cot.

your eyes stare up at the weaved ceiling, tracing each fiber that interlopes with each other, “i’m fine, but i appreciate you for coming to check on me.” your voice bites back in response. 

he takes a few more hesitant steps toward you until he is an arm length away from the bed. his eyes look over the smeared paint on your skin, and the multiple cuts that seemed to have been stitched intricately.

“do you need anything?” he asks softly, his eyes run down your torso before worriedly settling on your face. 

your eyes shift to stare at him, an unreadable expression on your features. you’re unsure why this boy cares for you so much— you are a stranger, an intruder to the omatikayan people. 

“i wouldn’t mind a blanket…” your soft voice breaks the silence as your eyes refuse to acknowledge your request. 

a grin breaks out on neteyam’s face and he curtly nods.

his round eyes search over the room, before spotting the corner of a brightly colored knit fabric. he scurried over to the other side of the room to pull the blanket out of a container, not caring as the lid tumbles to the floor. 

neteyam hurries back over to you, and your hands outstretch to recieve it. he tsks, and shakes his head, “no, no. you need to rest. let me.” he hushes as he carefully drapes the fabric over your lower half and torso, and tucks it underneath your arms. 

he can see the tip of your tail wiggling underneath, which almost makes him chuckle. “there ya go.” he grin proudly for himself as he looks up at you. 

a soft flit of light flickers over your expression, which fills his chest with hope that you’re warming up to him— but it disappears just as fast, and your eyes return to the ceiling. 

“thanks.” your voice exhales out. 

“of course,” he clears his throat before continuing, “if you need anything else, i’ll be back in the morning.” 

you almost let out a laugh at his words, but you stop yourself. you wonder why is this boy so kind to you; you’ve done nothing, but try to attack his people, and insult everyone in the room. you decide to hum and nod in response, instead of laughing. 

you have absolutely no energy to speak to him, mentally and physically. your thoughts are consumed by memories of eyutiri, keyè, and the events that led to your life falling apart before your eyes. 

neteyam takes your silence as a cue to leave, giving you a soft tight-lipped smile— which you, unfortunately, don’t pay any mind to. he turns on his heel, and ducks under the entrance.

it feels as if his mind is even more clouded than before he decided to check up on you. he assumed coming here would help, but it seemed to do the opposite. 

somehow, neteyam feels even more determined to break down your hard exterior; to make you feel at home, to help you along your healing journey, and to finally get to the roots of what happened to you.

he wants to know everything.

-

tags: @rannjlkttrt @mazzycherub @lilly12lesry

Kimetsu no Yaiba: The Stars and Cosmos Arc

Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

“You both are prone to success, you have my support, my love, the strength of our ancestors to guide you along with the lessons you were taught. I know you will make us proud.” A wise woman speaks while grasping the hands of two young women in front of her.

The woman on the left scoffs at the final sentence and the woman next to her furrows her brow in annoyance as well. The older woman before them sighs, with a shake to her head. If she knew her daughters, they did not liked how she phrased the last sentence.

“I know that your father has hurt you both-“

“Hurt isn’t even the word.” The second woman speaks up with a grit to her teeth.

“But, I didn’t just mean myself and him. I mean your siblings and everyone in the village has your back if anything goes wrong on your journey. You girls will be gone an entire year,” their mother pursed her lips to keep them from quivering and squeezed each hand, as a way to have a hold on them for a little bit longer.

“I can only send you off with my prayers for your safe return and a piece of my heart. Do not forget your home, your teachings and most importantly,” she gives them both a pointed look.

“Do not forget yourselves. Take care of one another, protect each other and come and visit when you have the time.” She tells them and her daughters nod their heads.

Their mother, Kaya pulls her daughters to her chest, almost smothering them in a hug. A kiss is placed on each daughter’s head and she slowly releases them.

“You are my twins, one of the many in the brood that looks like me,” this earns a smile from her daughters until Kaya straightens her back as she notices the sun was beginning to set in the distance. It was time.

“Now, you must go and foresee how your talents will help change the world. I love you both and wish for your safe return. Find Sakonji Urokodaki, he will help you on your journey.” Her daughters nod their heads and turn to leave the large home they had grew up in with their extended family. Kaya let’s out a shaky breath as soon as she hears the front door close, the waterworks begin.

Tears fell down her cheeks as Kaya took a deep breath and then stood from her knelt form. Her eyebrows narrow in distain as she looks to her left.

“Still a coward, then? Too afraid to even see your own daughters go off on their own journeys?” She spoke to the looming black figure in the doorway. They shuffle away from Kaya’s sight and the older woman scoffs in disbelief.

“Hmph.” Kaya leaves the room and heads to the kitchen to begin dinner.

Elsewhere~

The sun had finally taken it’s rest for the day and the moon came to sit prettily in the cloudy blue sky.

“Come Aicha. We begin our mission tonight.” Aicha, looks at her sister who is already heading uphill taking out one of the weapons sitting on her hip.

“Yes Amara, tonight we will prove to our family that we are the best of the best.” Aicha says and Amara chuckles with a nod.

“Yes, sister. We’ve always been the best.”

I See You — Chapter 4: Flight

Summary: You observe the mighty warrior, the famed Toruk Makto, struggling to adjust to his new life in the Metkayina clan. The gentle whisperings of Eywa push you past your comfort to reach out a helping hand, to ease Jake Sully in the only way you can.

You offer to teach him the way of water as the adopted daughter of the Olo'eyktan. An outcast befriending the outsider.

Pairing: Widowed!Jake Sully & Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Chapter WC: 3.3k | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next | Main Masterlist

Word bank:  'evi - child (affectionate), koakte - woman/old woman, ma evi' - dear child, skxawng - idiot/moron, kä’ärìp - push, seysonìltsan - well done, kuru - neural queue (the long braid the Na'vi have to form tsaheylu), txopu rä’ä si - don't be afraid, irayo - thank you, fäkä - ascend/go up. (pls note that I do not speak fluent Na'vi. My knowledge is limited so if you see an error kindly let me know and I will fix it!)

Tw: light angst (sort of), not beta read, jake being a dilf (lmk if I missed anything)

A/n: hello my lovely friends! I am having a blast writing this series. Thank you for all of your comments and support. They keep me excited to post more and more <3 Things heat up a little bit (in my mind, at least) so prepare yourselves!! I actually had to split what I had in mind for this chapter into two because I got swept up in writing it. The aftermath of this chapter's adventure will be in the next one! I was so excited to post this, so I am sorry for grammatical errors.

The morning sun is hot on your neck. A slight sheen of sweat coats your skin as you finish applying fresh herbs to one of the Awa’atlu’s elders. Iouna cut herself while helping her mate repair their marui that had been damaged in a storm. The wound wasn’t bad. Merely a large scrape along her forearm but upon seeing it undressed and puffy in the sunlight, you pulled her into Ronal’s healing room. She griped about it the whole time. 

“There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You stand from your squat to begin returning the herbs on the tray made of driftwood settled against the wall. 

“Quiet, ‘evi (child). I’ll not deal with your chastising.” Her grumpiness is something that never fails to make you smile. 

“You wouldn’t have to deal with it if you had come in for healing as soon as you got hurt, koakte.” (old woman) She huffs, the seashells woven into the ends of her hair clinking together as she shakes her head. “You are all settled but please...” You look back at her as you place the last jar away. “Come back soon to get it checked, okay?” 

“I’ve suffered wounds worse than this.” Her dismissal does nothing to stop the firm glare you give her as you walk to the entrance of the marui. 

You know her words hold truth. Iouna is one of the best hunters you’ve ever witnessed. Her skin is littered with indents and scars. She occasionally delights the young ones with a story of their origin by the fire. Tales of adventure, pain, and fearlessness that had you holding your breath to this day. The woman has seen her fair share of battle. 

“I know you have, Iouna.” The morning light beams onto the crystalline ocean with fervor today. The top of the water reminds you of an assortment of shimmering blue beads. “I care for you out of respect, not pity.” She walks next to you, so tall that you look up at her. 

“I know, ‘evi.” (child) A soft smile paints her features and you mirror the expression. Then, you scour the water in search of the familiar figure you’ve come to know. 

A heavy boulder sinks into your stomach at the sight of Jake. He’s on the water with Tonowari, a similar sight to when you first met him. From here you can see Jake settle onto the tsurak. It writhes beneath his weight, which makes Jake grip the harness to steady himself. This is it. The moment reveals if your lessons have had any effect in helping him master the warrior mount of the Metkayina. 

Water splashes beneath him as he reaches behind for his braid. You can’t tear your eyes from the stretch of muscles on his abdomen that tense as he leans back. It shoots some unknown feeling down the back of your neck, through your belly, and straight to your toes. He makes tsaheylu with the tsurak swiftly before giving a nod to Tonowari. You can practically hear him say, ‘I got this’, before rushing forward in the water. 

“You desire Toruk Makto.” The declaration causes you to flinch, looking up at Iouna in alarm. Her eyes hold the knowledge that dares you to question her, to tell her she’s wrong. You look away from the stormy gaze to the horizon, focusing on nothing as you attempt to find something to say. 

“I-,” you start. 

“Don’t try to deny it, _____. You look at him the way I look at Iwa’te.” Her mate of forty cycles. A kind father and an equally fierce hunter that used to teach you at your younger age. Fangs press into your lower lip at that. Are you truly that obvious about the stirrings in your heart as of late for Jake?

“I… am not sure what to say to that.” Admitting your feelings seems too soon, too final. Then, you’d have to face them. You’d be forced to look at the truth that’s been there from the start. 

You and Jake could never be together.

“You don’t need to. There’s nothing you could say that’d convince me otherwise.” She breathes deeply, adjusting the netted shawl over her shoulders as silence overtakes you both. 

Jake was partially successful. The amber fins of the tsurak rose from the sea in a wobbly but triumphant start. It dove under too fast which made him let go. Almost. 

 “Eywa must think I'm a fool, Iouna.” You can’t help but admit at least this to her. While she does have a prickly temperament, Iouna is not a gossip. Anything you talk about with her is secure. A secret between you both and the ocean. 

“Why, ma ‘evi?” (dear child) Her tone is gentle, a rare occurrence, and your shoulders cave inward. 

“To lead me to Jake to help him, only to yearn for something I cannot have.” The words are like bile in your throat. They burn with every inhale you take. 

“Pity does no one good, especially not when it comes to matters of the heart.” You frown at her but she meets it with a kind smile. “Eywa would not have led you to him without knowing how you’d come to feel.” 

“So she wanted me to desire a Na’vi that I have no chance with?” You’re confused and frustrated. A roiling, angry churning takes over your gut. 

“Chance has nothing to do with it.” Her riddles confuse you, so you turn to face her with a look of utter bewilderment. “Do you not trust Eywa, ‘evi?”

Trust? Of course, you do. You never would’ve approached Jake if you did not trust the Great Mother. “You know I do.” 

“Really? Then why have you resigned to a fate that may never come?” Your ears flick back at that. 

“Are you saying that I’m being irrational for accepting that I cannot be with an already mated Na’vi?” Her tail swishes behind her as if she finds amusement in your squabbling. You cross your arms and look away from the wisdom in her eyes. 

“Already mated?” Iouna lets out a soft laugh. “He might’ve been previously mated, but that does not mean he cannot choose another if he wishes… if Eywa wills it.” 

A commotion steals your attention before you can respond. Loud whooping and yelling from Metkayina warriors. They sing battle cries, lifting spears and hands into the air as Jake glides above and below the ocean on the tsurak. He did it. Pride shudders through you. 

“You would pair well with Toruk Makto.” That causes you to whip your head in her direction, eyes wide as your mouth drops open. 

“Iouna!” you squawk. She bellows out a laugh this time. Your ears fold back at the audacity. 

“Do not give up so easily, _____. Are you not one of the Metkayina's finest warriors?” You cannot do anything but look at her beautiful, aged face. Resignation melts over you. She’s right. But it’s not that simple. 

“That may be true, but it’s more complicated than that. He has children.” You watch him swim around, ears moving forward to catch the last echoes of his victorious laugh. “They are his priority, and I can’t get in the way of that, nor do I want to.”  They are more important. They’re the ones that truly matter. You care for them too much for it to be different. She says nothing for a long moment. Perhaps she has given up this conversation, more willing to leave you with muddled thoughts. 

“That is why you’d make a good addition to their family.” Your eyes stray to your feet and flit over the floor of the marui. “I only say this to encourage you, _____. You know I don’t take pleasure in niceties.” That is the truth. Iouna has never been one to swim around a problem, to avoid confrontation. She’s the first person you all go to for insight and advice. 

“Thank you, koakte.” (old woman) Your tone is light, but you hope your stare portrays how grateful you are to her for noticing what you feel. For pulling you out of your self-doubt. She pats the side of your arm, affectionately rubbing your skin before walking away. 

You’re so lost in thought, drifting your eyes along the glowing horizon that you fail to hear the faint splashing below you. Then, you see him. 

Jake has exchanged the tsurak for an ilu and weaved his way underneath the cropping of marui to the front of where you are standing. He looks up at you from the water, a cunning smile glinting in the light of the day. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for the side of the entrance at your shoulder. 

“Ready to fly, _____?” You don't hide your smile. 

Flying is a lot more intimidating than you thought. So is Jake’s ikran. 

Its hide is similar to the blue of the ocean but speckled with a black pattern and some purple all throughout. Its wings are double the size of your body, upturned and pointed to the sky. The tips are clear and iridescent. What intimidates you the most, however, are its eyes. Two piercing, yellow orbs that cut off what excitement you had and replace it with hesitancy. 

Jake walks up to the ikran and you witness the layers of stress fall off of his face. He reaches out a hand, gliding it over the side of its face down to its neck with a familiarity that eases you. It huffs, tilting its head toward Jake like it's asking for more attention. He lets out a laugh before making tsaheylu with it. You observe its pupils dilate and gulp, digging your toes into the sand to hide the sudden nerves. 

“Hey, don’t be scared. He won’t hurt you.” You glance at the ikran, then back to Jake as if to say, ‘are you sure about that?’. He notices, then smiles. “I won’t let him.’’ 

You step forward, to which the ikran widens its wings and flaps them. The puff of air blows into your face and clinks the beads at your neck. 

“I don’t think he likes me, Jake.” He frowns, halting the movements of his hand over the ikran’s neck. 

“Skxawng (idiot), what are you doing?” Jake chastises the beast, using that low tone you’ve heard him use with Lo’ak and Neteyam. He looks at you again, motioning with his head to walk toward them. “Come here, he’s just showing off.” 

You walk toward them, much slower this time. Jake waits for you with a patient disposition. There’s thumping in your ears and it takes you a moment to realize it's your own heartbeat. The ikran does not move as you near, standing next to him. You vehemently avoid looking into its black pupils. 

“See? I told you I won’t let him hurt you.” Jake rustles around the fastening of the harness and you observe the intricate workmanship with appreciation. Omatikaya weaving is magnificent. “Now, do you want to be in the front or in the back?” 

The question causes your mind to ring. You didn’t think about how the placement would go, nor the intimacy of it. Nerves of a different kind grip you now, and you reach a hand up to fiddle with your necklace while attempting to stay calm. He’s too preoccupied with placing a rider's mask over his ears and forehead to notice. “Uhm, whatever is the safest position, I suppose.” 

He smiles again, this time with mischief. “Front it is then.” Then, he’s walking closer to you. You step back, wide-eyed. 

“What are you doing?” you question. He simply looks down at you. 

“Helping you up.” Your ears flick back, suddenly embarrassed. 

“I think I can get up just fine, Jake.” At that, his smile grows. Heat singes your nape. 

“You sure about that?” He takes a step away, shooting a sly glance at the saddle. “I’m more than happy to help.” You cross your arms, stubbornness overcoming all sensibility in your head. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” He merely steps away, that strange hair above his eyes raising. You discern the look as poorly masked amusement. His tail curls behind him, betraying the fact that he is anxious to see what you’ll do. 

“I got this.” You try to say it in the confident tone he often uses, and his eyes light with recognition at you using his words against him. 

You walk up to the ikran, placing your foot carefully on the part of the harness that juts out. A careful look at the weaving tells you that you are doing it correctly but you’re at a loss for where to place your hands. There’s nothing to grip that you can see from your placement next to the ikran’s neck. A steady, unwavering heat is at your back. You can practically feel Jake’s smile at your fidgeting. So you lay your palms flat, hoping the strength in your arms will be enough as you press up. 

It doesn’t work. 

Your palms slide back down as you land with a huff. The muscles in your leg almost give out at the impact. Two large hands hover over your shoulders, ready to catch you if needed. He says nothing, which you aren’t sure if you’re grateful for or not. Having to sit in your own stubbornness is humbling, to say the least. 

“I–,” you grumble with a huff, “I don’t know where to put my hands.” To prove your point, you lift them slightly. You avoid looking at Jake’s face and glare at the brown cords in front of you. 

“Can I help you, then?” His tone is gentle, not berating. He must know how self-conscious you are. All you can do is nod and not look back. Though, you’re sure he can see your ears fold behind your head in sheepishness. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” You’re hyper-aware of his presence and the warmth of his hands as they rest on each side of you underneath your ribs. “Put everything you got into your leg when I tell you to, then lean forward and lift the other over.” You fear the squeak that would leave your throat if you spoke, so you nod again, palms flat against the ikran’s neck. 

“Kä’ärìp.” (push) He commands, and there’s a steady pressure at your sides. You rise into the air, pressing strength into your leg as the other lifts over. Jake’s hands lower to your hips with a final push as you ungracefully settle atop the ikran.

It’s disorienting, to be sitting on a creature without the flow of water lapping around your legs and waist. There’s nothing to stop your inner thighs from brushing on the roughness of the ikran, or catch you if your strength fails to hold you upright. 

“Seysonìltsan.” (well done) The praise is unexpected. It makes you shy, glancing at him and then looking ahead with a bashful smile. You hardly deserve it considering the way you rejected his help at first, but you cannot think when you feel heat on your thigh. Looking down, you see a large hand resting above your knee. It rubs soft and encouraging pats on your skin. 

Sand feels as if it's coating your throat when you swallow and inhale a staggering breath. He’s choosing to touch you, again. Eywa, give me strength. His hand runs down your calf muscle, feather-light before holding your ankle and moving it off the stirrup. Then, he places his foot on it and mounts the ikran. 

Jake is swift and agile as he settles behind you with little effort. Your feet dangle in the air as his chest engulfs you. The ikran moves suddenly, and your legs adhere to its neck in a slight panic. You’re at a loss for where to plant your hands again and settle them in front of you. Jake is adjusting behind you, inches away. The skin of your lower lip stings from biting it. 

“You need to be closer if you don’t want to fall off mid-flight.” You flounder, unsure of what to do. Scoot closer? Lean back? “Lift your arms for me, _____.” Elbows lift from your side cautiously before he wraps a strong arm around your abdomen and tugs. 

Breath leaves you. Thoughts scramble in your mind at the feel of him pressed completely against you. Jake is larger than you, chin hovering somewhere in the space above your ears. So many things overwhelm you. The security of being tucked against him, the rise and fall of his chest that seems to sync with yours, the feverish haze that clouds your senses. Everything is on fire. 

Strong legs press on the outsides of your smaller ones as he removes his arm from your middle momentarily to grab onto the harness in front of you. 

“Hold on right here the whole time and don’t let go.” You see it, now. A sizable handle that latches onto two thick appendages on the ikran’s head, one of which is joined to Jake’s kuru to form tsaheylu. The handle wasn’t visible from your standpoint on the ground earlier. You place both hands on it, gripping firmly and reeling at how far forward you have to lean to do so. 

“There’s a ridge along its neck where your feet are dangling, try to rest your heels on it.” You hug your ankles to feel along the ikran’s chest. It’s there, and you do as instructed. Strong puffs of air tickle your lower legs as the ikran breathes. “Rest all your weight there when we fly... you’ll have to crouch to compensate for all the movement.” Leaning forward makes much more sense now that you know you’ll be squatting the whole time. 

“Okay, anything else I need to know?” The handle is no doubt imprinted on your palms from how tightly you’re holding on. His arms come around the tops of your shoulder as he grips the harness, too. But there’s not enough space, so he has to hold the outside of your hand in his. The touch grounds you and makes you less nervous to know that his strength is covering yours if you should stumble. 

“Don’t forget to breathe, _____.” His voice sounds deeper this close to your ear. The words reverberate through you. “I can feel your heartbeat… txopu rä’ä si.” (don't be afraid)

Good. He thinks the thumping in your chest is from fear. You prefer him not to know the true reason why. Him. 

“Irayo, Jake.” (thank you) You mean it, you really do. “Fäkä.” (go up/ascend)

A powerful flap of the ikran’s wings and then you are ascending into the air. It’s startling. The weighty pressure of the briny air melts onto your face. Withstanding its onslaught is all you can do for a moment until the jostling stops.

“Open your eyes.” You didn’t realize they were closed, so you do as he says. Your breath is taken away at the sight. 

Glistening, clear water stretches beneath you for an eternity. You look below to find Awa’atlu. Your kin are now dots in the water from the height difference. They are speckled everywhere. The maruis are intricately stacked next to one another, looking strangely beautiful from the sky. Like a woven brown coral reef. You want to crane your neck further behind you, but you’re pressed too tightly to Jake’s abdomen. One glance at the side of his face shows a look that seeps into you like icy water. 

He’s not looking at the horizon, or the sea below, or the sky above. No. Jake is watching you sink it all in. His gaze is ravenous. All you can do in response is let your joy show with a wonderstruck smile. 

He smiles back, and the sight is more breathtaking to you than anything else ever could be. 

A/n: What do you think of Iouna's encouragement? Or Jake's behavior in this chapter? I'd give anything to be nestled close to that man while flying into the sunset lol. Anyways, stay safe & ilysm!

Taglist: @iwanttohitmyself @fanboyluvr @crowssixof @misscaller06 @zoetrope1997

Holometabolous metamorphosis 🦋

Part 2- Thanatosis 🦋-Coming soon

Holometabolous metamorphosis- Also called complete metamorphosis is a form of insect development that involves four stages of life: egg, larva, pupa (cocoon) and adult.

Dark!Mean!Mafia!Biker! Bucky x innocent!victim!Reader

Warnings: Rape, absolutely non con, dark!Bucky, mean!Bucky, Beefy!Bucky, innocent!reader, name calling, manipulation, abuse, bruises (not the kinky kind), dacryphilia, punching, slapping, mentions of blood, heavy angst, reader blames themselves (if you’re getting abused it not your fault), talk of death, allusions to suicide

Nicknames: whore, stupid, dumb

Read this at you own discretion. This is actually one of the darkest things I’ve ever written. I do have a continuation of it so if I finish it I’ll link it.

Surely I am dying. My head pounds as I hold the cover closer to me, hugging his pillow tighter as the rain clatters down, harsh like pebbles being thrown at a window, and the wind picks up outside, howling as gusts in all directions shake the trees. My ears prick at the sound of a branch scratching repeatedly at the window, the grating sound causes my brows to pinch together as I pull at the heavy covers, dragging them over my ear. The dark room is illuminated briefly by the blinding white of lightning. It allows me to see the dreary grey walls, lighter than the current sky which is a deep, dark never ending pit that allows for nothing to exist, the closet door is slightly ajar. It’s freezing, my teeth chatter, I ball my body up further, shrugging my shoulders till they reach the bottom of my ear and squeeze, tighter than I’ve ever squeezed before on the pillow. Bucky. The name flashes in my mind and more tears slip over my nose onto the pillow, I take a deep breath allowing his scent that still clings to the pillow to hijack my lungs- the smell of a warm bonfire bonfire, the leathery smell of his jacket, petrichor, musky magnolia wood and the oil from his motorbike. My thumb caresses the corner of the pillow and the knot in my throat grows painfully tighter, I bite on my lower lip keeping the sob that is trying to escape my chest inside. I let one of my hands drift to the impression of him that remains in my mattress, the outline of his bulky frame. It’s cold, colder than the bitter wind outside. I miss the days when the impression was filled by him, his feverish warmth and his solid, yet soft muscles. I miss the days when I could lean against his chest and hear the steady, strong rhythm of his heart. I miss the days when he’d run his calloused hands over my skin, under the covers, making the shape of stars, hearts or just random squiggles. I miss him so much, his soothing presence.

The world around me rumbles and I gasp. The thunder that follows. It sounds so similar to the engine of his motorcycle when he would rev it outside to tell me he was here, except it was a soft purr. The branch bangs against the window from a sudden bombardment of wind. It’s so lonely without him, when I was with him it felt as if life would never end. Everyday was exciting, but now it was bland. Slowly but surely I had faded away, like a moth, I had been a larva without Bucky, once I was with him I was born from my cocoon and I had found my wings, but just like a moth I was an insignificant little insect. I flew closer and closer to him. My flame. my wings slowly began to tether, my patterns began to fade; with every touch they left me, the awful silky residue clinging to every surface. He burnt me so lovingly. and then I will die. I’m not there yet, but soon…it will be soon. We only live for ninety days after all. At first we’re beautiful, then we become annoying and ugly, and finally we die and just like that we’re forgotten. I’m a silly little moth, clinging to the thing that hurts me most till it kills me. It hurts so much, my chest, my throat and my eyes burn. I’m trying not to cry, but it hurts so much, I just want to sob till snot and spit congeals on my face. Till my eyes are red and puffy. Till I throw up. Maybe if I throw up all the words I want to say to him will go with it, will the thoughts and memories go too? Metamorphosis turned my brain and body to soup, soup seasoned by thoughts of him. It wasn’t the right soup. He didn’t want it, he hated it, he spit in it, he threw the bowl, he smashed the bowl. I’m the bowl. My ribs hurt, the dark branches of bruises blooming up the side of me, he broke some.

The room is illuminated again and I see blood on the pillow from my lip. I throw off the weighty covers, my naked body is kissed by the cold and my skin is pinched softly as it is littered with goosebumps. I throw my legs over the side of the bed, the floorboards groaning as I stumble out into the hallway. I cling desperately to the wall, trying my best to walk as a dull ache radiates through my calves and stinging throbs between my legs, sharp pains jab me as I shuffle like a newborn giraffe towards the glowing warm light of my bathroom. I push the door weakly and am faced with the mirror. Surely I am dying. I wish I was already dead, I want to sink to the floor. I glance over to the dead moths on the yellowed, flakey paint of my windowsill. I want to be a moth, I want the simple little life of a moth. I once thought being with him was freedom, but now I can see, true freedom is death and although I look like death, although I feel like death I am not yet dead.

I run my shaking fingers over the bruise around my eye socket. Flowers of deep purples and black and sickly yellowish green buds climb along my cheek bone. I flinch away from my own touch “Stupid” I mutter to myself as I turn the handle of the tap, a metallic creak accompanies the sputter and cough of water as it forms a steady stream. I gather it in my cupped hands, relishing in the warmth, as warm as his skin. I crane my neck down and throw it at my face, rubbing at my stinging split lip with my pinky. I grab my face towel and dab my face dry, looking again in the mirror. Bruises, bushes of purple and black. Estranged petals adorn my waist from where he grabbed me harshly and held me down. A shudder runs down my spine as I feel the ghost of his hands digging into me, little bloody half moons accompany the bruises.

The sky hit its drum once again, I fell to my knees. My hands meeting the cold tiles, reddish brown stained the grout. I hadn’t cleaned it yet. I crawled straight to bed as soon as he left. I can hear his animalistic growls echo off the walls, growls as he plunged into me holding my legs open painfully wide, my hips threatening to come out of their sockets. He was like a man possessed, I’d never seen his eyes so dark and stormy before, wide and pregnant with malice ready to rain on me. I could smell the whiskey on him as he leaned down demanding I kissed him, I refused. That’s when he punched me and grabbed my jaw in a crushing grip, forcing me to kiss him— it was more than just whiskey; this time he was hammered— regardless of my sobs and incoherent pleading. I don’t know what I was pleading for. Maybe for him to stop, maybe for him to go harder, maybe for him to be kinder… I don’t know. Stupid brain, stupid idiot. ‘Stupid’ is what he called me. A ‘dumb whore’, a ‘hole to fuck’ as he snapped his hips chasing his release, unbothered if he pleased me or not. He slapped my face, his ring catching on my lip and tearing it open. He yanked my hair brutally from the root, one of his many rings scraping my scalp sending a white hot throb through my nerves. He demanded that I cry harder, the harder I cried the quicker this would go and the harder his dick would get is what he said. He was hard enough, as his thick cock tore through me slick with blood. Bucky had always been a loose cannon, but usually he directed it towards beating up men who owed him money or waging war on rival gangs. But today he wanted to take it out on me, all he wanted was sex but when I didn’t want to; he decided he was bored with me, my wings were ugly and tattered, but he wanted them, he wanted my freedom so he took it. He burnt my wings off. He raped me. He wouldn’t stop. I wish he just killed me with one of his prized knives. My winter soldier, my flame, my demise.

I hugged myself despite the pain, rocking back and forth on the tiled floor. He’s never coming back. I'm gonna die. I'm dying without him. I need him, he burns me so sweetly. Bucky Bucky Bucky. The chant of his name fills my head as I curl up on the floor like an abandoned animal, like the moth on my windowsill. Surely I am dying.

— broken promises

pairing: earth 42 miles x fem!reader

summary: while earth 42 miles comes off a lot tougher than 1610’s based off his cold demeanor and his trauma induced apathy, somewhere under that hard shell, he’s still the sweet boy he used to be and wants love just like anyone else. miles is aged up to 17 in this, simply for the plot! wc: 2,640

contains: spoilers!!! angst, fluff, no smut.

word bank: “mi vida” - my life, “mi amor” - my love

playing now: Wasted Love Freestyle by Jhene Aiko

You and Miles have been dating for 7 months now, and lately he hasn’t been around as much as he’d like to, for obvious reasons. Well, not obvious to you. You still don’t know that Miles is the Prowler, and he’s intent on keeping it that way.

It’s the third time he’s flaked on plans he arranged himself this month, and he can tell you’re beyond tired of it with the way you just blew his phone up.

— Miles POV —

Miles’ phone buzzes in his pocket but he decides against checking it, marking it off as something unimportant. He’s already accepted a job from his Uncle and a distraction wouldn’t do him any good right now.

8:03 PM

Mi Vida: please don’t tell me you’re doing this again bro.

Mi Vida: this is a joke, right?

Mi Vida: hello?? you were supposed to be outside thirty minutes ago.

Mi Vida: Miles Gonzalo Morales I swear to GOD if I don’t hear your motorcycle revving outside in the next five minutes so help me.

*buzz buzz*

Ignored.

*buzz buzz*

*buzz buzz*

He kissed his teeth, lashes fluttering in aggravation and air puffing through his nostrils at the continuous buzzing against his leg. His shoulder fell to the side a bit as he reached down into his pocket to grab his phone while he climbed up the stairwell, following his uncle. Seeing your contact name on his lock screen, his brow raised as he read over the message, then they bunched together in the middle of his forehead incredulously, the tone of your texts causing his strides to falter.

Miles was genuinely confused for a moment, trying to think back on if he’d done anything to upset you, until the memory of him assuring you he wouldn’t do this again slapped him across the face harder than his mom did that one time he’d cursed at her on accident. The two of you had a date planned for tonight, and he swore to you he’d be there this time, fifteen minutes early at that, even though he knew there was a big chance he wouldn’t be able to make it all. It was selfish of him to promise something he couldn’t guarantee, knowing how demanding the other factors in his life were, but he was so tired of disappointing you, and how happy you looked when he told you you guys would finally get to spend some time together really had him thinking he could make it work this time.

Eyes falling shut for a beat, a heavy sigh leaves his lips, tongue darting out to dampen them as he quickly tries to think of something to respond with that won’t piss you off more than you already are.

He texts you back: sorry Mami, something came up yk how it is. i got you tomorrow tho fasho

Yeah. Real smooth.

*buzz buzz*

Mi Vida: yk what, just forget it, Miles.

Damn, she called me by my first name? I definitely fucked up this time. He thinks to himself.

Mi Vida: whoever you’re with is clearly more important to you than what we got goin on, so it’s cool. stay where you at, i’m done

Shit.

His heart beats a little faster in his chest, the sensation a semblance of something he hadn’t felt in years. Fear. He texts back as fast he can, head snapping up to see he’s fallen behind his Uncle, and he hurriedly jumps a few stairs before he comes to a stop again.

Miles: done??? the fuck you mean you done?

You don’t respond fast enough for his liking, so he double texts.

Miles: baby stop playin. you trippin it ain’t even like that at all

Mi Vida: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

He utters a string of curses under his breath, alerting his Uncle who had already noticed he was falling behind when he heard the inconsistency of his nephew’s footsteps. He’s ample steps above Miles, turning his head only slightly over his shoulder to address the distracted teenager.

“C’mon man, get off the phone. We got business to tend to. You in or you out?” Aaron asks. “You know I can’t have nobody holdin’ me back.” There’s a hint of something deeper playing within his words, and Miles knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He swallows hard as he looks up at the older man. Taking one last look down at his phone, his jaw clenches in contemplation before he’s shaking his head with a quiet sigh and shoving it back into his pocket. He’ll have to deal with this later.

“My fault. Yeah, I’m in.” He mumbles, doing a quick jog to catch up to the man.

His uncle’s lips quirk into a smirk, a heavy hand coming down to clap Miles’ back and squeeze his shoulder.

“My man. Aight, let’s roll.”

— Your POV —

8:05 PM

You: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

You watch closely as the three dots bubble at the bottom left corner of your screen, an indicator that he was typing. But instead, a quiet scoff slips from your mouth when they disappear, your shoulders slumping in disappointment at the word that appears below your last message.

Seen

You angrily toss your phone onto your bed, bottom lip quivering when you catch a glance at yourself in the mirror when you walk by. You’d gotten dressed up all nice just for him, because you knew the chance of him being free for a night to take you out was rare. You’d started your makeup early just to make sure he wouldn’t have to wait outside for you while you finished, and you’d even styled your hair the way you knew he liked. All for nothing.

You kicked your shoes off and dropped your purse to the ground, heading to your bathroom to undo all your work. You washed all the makeup off your face, the act feeling more humiliating than ever when you remembered why you’d even put it on in the first place. To feel pretty for someone who barely even showed up.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm down, hastily reaching back over to check your phone just one more time. Maybe he was thinking of what to say, and that’s why he’d left you on seen.

Seen 25 minutes ago

Maybe not.

You hated crying. And more than anything you were tired of doing it, especially when broken promises were the cause of your wasted tears. Your evening was basically wasted, and you weren’t in the mood to do anything else anyway, so you decided that you’d call it a night and head to bed early. You slipped on some comfy sleep shorts, tying your hair up for the night before grudgingly tugging a large t-shirt over your head. Your brow perked up at the scent that wafted past your nostrils, and pinching the shirt with your forefinger and thumb, you brought the fabric to your nose and immediately caught a whiff of Miles’ cologne. You then realized you’d put on a shirt you stole from him a while back, and the way your heart fluttered made you even more upset than you already were. You brushed it off to the best of your ability and crawled into bed, trying your hardest to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you pulled your blankets over your shoulder.

____

As soon as he’d gotten the job done and his Uncle gave him the okay to dip, Miles’ feet were moving at the speed of light down the stairwell. And while he had sort of rushed the plays he made with some of the city’s goons, he just had to pray that all his Uncle’s money was in the banded wad of cash he returned with, or it would be his ass.

Skipping a few steps he hopped down onto the platform before the next set, checking his phone for the time simultaneously.

10:15 PM

“Damn.” He groaned, pushing through the doors, cool wind hitting his face. Once he reached his motorcycle he shoved his helmet over his head, hopped on, and sped off with a “skrrrt”.

He sped through the streets carelessly, something you definitely would’ve scolded him for had you been riding on the back of his bike with him, with your arms tight around his waist to hold on like you always did. He bobbed and weaved through cars, lane splitting between a few of them and he may have even ran a red, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to remember. All he could focus on was that you said you were “done”, whatever the hell that meant, and he was adamant on making sure you weren’t.

____

You didn’t know when you’d dozed off, three steady knocks, a fourth one after a pause hitting against your window, resulting in your eyes snapping open at the disruption. You sat up on your mattress, the ball of your hand rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you peered across the room. Once they adjusted in the darkness and you recognized the familiar, lanky body of your boyfriend standing outside on the fire escape, the events of just two hours ago played over in your mind like a record.

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed and swung your legs over the side of your bed, pushing yourself onto your feet. Miles watched as you sleepily trudged over to the window, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, head slightly lowered and tilted to the side, as if he were already apologizing before you’d even made it to him.

Hooking your fingers underneath the edge of your window, with a quiet grunt you pulled it up, effectively lifting the barrier between your bodies. You instantly felt your yearning for him come back full force, and wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms, but you restrained. Your eyes met his, the cool night air breezing into your room, and his heart clenched. Somehow he was able to feel the coolness in your demeanor, yet the cold weather hadn’t bothered him at all.

He was the first to speak.

“Hola, Mami.” He sized you up once, taking notice of your eyes that were slightly puffy from crying.

His voice was like silk to your ears, alluring and confident, almost hypnotizing, and it aggravated you that you felt yourself gravitating towards him off two simple words.

“Why are you here, Miles?” You sighed, arms slapping at your sides in exasperation.

He looked slightly taken aback, chin lifting a bit as if you’d asked something completely outlandish.

“What you mean why I’m here? You my girl, shit, this my crib too.” He shrugged, so nonchalant, as if nothing had happened. You wondered if it had even been him texting you earlier.

“You left me on seen, remember? Stood me up, too?” Your head cocked to the side to match the attitude in your tone, brows raising at him. What excuse would he use this time?

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before he spoke up again.

“I was… busy. Look, my bad, okay? You gon’ let me in or what? Ian come all the way over here to stand outside.” He demanded with a gesture towards the opening, his hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight and thawing the ice that’d been temporarily encased around your heart. There was the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips, because he already knew the answer.

Your lips pursed and you stepped to the side, a laggard arm stretched out beside you, silently granting him access to your room.

He stepped through the window frame and you closed it after him, his hands folding around the collar then the hem of his jacket as he adjusted it and turned towards you.

“I can’t keep doing this with you, Miles. It isn’t fair.” You mumbled, hating the way your voice split your words.

His head dipped to the side a bit as he took in your solemn expression and the way your gaze was cast to the floor, as if you were trying to contain your tears. He wasn’t the best at this, he knew that, and showing affection effectively really wasn’t his strong suit. He usually made it up to you by bringing you a few hundreds he’d made from a deal, paired with some roses he’d picked up on the way to your house at the last second— but you both knew paper and flowers wouldn’t fix it this time.

“I’m sorry, I mean it.” He said, reaching for your hand to bring you close and grateful when your eyes finally lifted to lock onto his, although seeing them tear-filled wrapped him in a deep-seated emotion he didn’t even want to acknowledge.

Miles rarely said he was sorry. If ever. Did he apologize? Yes, but it was usually a ‘my bad’ or a ‘my fault’, or some other term that’d get the point across without him have to use too much emotion. Hearing the words ‘I’m sorry’ from him was an anomaly, it happened once in a blue moon, so this time you knew he really meant it. In your heart you knew he meant it, but that didn’t stop the tear you’d been trying to keep at bay from rolling down your cheek.

His thumb caught the tear almost instantly, swiping it from the soft of your skin. It didn’t belong there, and he hated to be the reason why you were crying in the first place.

“Where do you disappear to, Miles?” You sniffled.

He sighed, glancing back over at the window. He considered telling you the truth, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m just tryna keep you safe, ma.”

“You always say that!” You squeaked, making sure to keep your voice down, you had technically snuck him in. You ripped your hand from his grasp, turning your face away from him as another tear fell. “Do you not trust me or something? Is that it?”

“Of course I trust you,” His eyebrows knit together at your question and he stole your hand from your side again.

“So why can’t you tell me?” You pleaded, eyes big and glossy.

“I just-“ He paused. “I can’t let you get hurt. The shit I do…” You watched as he hesitated, like even speaking about the subject pained him. “It ain’t good.” He swallowed, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “And I’ll be damned if I put you in the middle of my shit. I love you… okay?” He moved closer to you, and when you turned from him once again he brought your face right back to his, this time with both his hands. He wasn’t going to let you go, and while Miles was rough around the edges, and seemingly devoid of any emotion other than anger or resentment for the world—he always handled you with care.

“I love you, Y/n, I put that on everything. I’ll burn this whole world down for you, you hear me? Don’t think I won’t.” He stared into your eyes longingly, intent on making sure you didn’t just hear every word, but that you understood them, too.

You couldn’t help but lean into his hand, your own coming up to hold at his wrist as you inhaled shakily and gave him a bleak nod.

That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear you say it.

“Do you understand?” He articulated his words, bringing his head down slightly to match your height a bit more.

“I understand.” You said softly, looking up at him through your lashes before your gaze fell to his lips. He took that as his sign, leaning forward and bringing you into a kiss.

You melted into him immediately, like you always did, eyes fluttering closed as your lips moved against his, and as his hands fell to your hips to pull you in closer, like they always did.

You broke the kiss for air, your hand resting on his bicep and your lips ghosting his as you spoke, as you shared the same breath. “I love you too…” You breathed, standing on your toes.

“Good,” You felt him grin before he pulled away, his hand pinching your chin to make you look at him. “Cause you not leaving me, ever. I can’t let no one else have you, Mami, you know that.” He cooed.

You felt heat flush your cheeks, a smile you couldn’t hide finally spreading on your face.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You answered, chewing at your bottom lip. “Can you stay?” You whispered, eyes shifting between his hopefully as you awaited his answer.

“Ah…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, piping up again before you could get disappointed. “What about your moms?”

“She sleeps in on the weekends, you just gotta be outta here by nine. Please, pa?” You whined, already reaching for his hands.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head slightly, having to look away from the adorable look on your face. He tried to remain in denial of the fact that he was so deep in love with you he could hardly think sometimes, let alone say no, but he was failing. Miserably.

“Of course I’ll stay, mi amor.”

Your expression lit up, a toothy smile brightening your features as he let you lead him to your bed.

He made sure to remove his shoes before he laid down, settling on his back. He extended his arm out to you as he tucked the other behind his head, motioning for you to join him with his fingers.

You crawled into his open embrace, getting comfortable on top of his chest and nuzzling your head under his chin. You began to feel drowsy the second he wrapped his arm around you, a yawn leading your eyes to water. His hand slowly moved from where it was resting on your back, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours comforting to you. His large hand rubbed up and down the expanse of your back, the tips of his fingers drawing lines along your spine— you always fell asleep easier when he did that. You listened to the steady beating of his heart, fingers idly toying with the gold chain he kept around his neck.

“I’m really sorry I ain’t make it tonight. I know you prolly got all pretty for me n’shit… and I wish I got to see it, but that’s on me.” He grumbled. He’d beat himself up over this for a while.

“S’okay.” You say it is, but he knows it’s not. He knows better. “I missed you.” Your quiet voice murmured from below him as you scooted in impossibly closer.

His jaw tensed as he stared up at your ceiling, a deep breath from his diaphragm raising you a little bit with his chest, and lowering you as he released it. “I know.” His response was hushed, and as sleep continued creeping in, you wondered if you’d imagined it.

But when you felt a long, drawn-out kiss press to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades, you knew it was real. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was his voice, mellow and gentle as he assured you.

“Ima do better, mama. I promise, for real this time.”

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