OMG YOUR "Hear Me" STORY IS SO GOOD. I CAN ONLY IMAGINE NETE BEING SO INLOVE BUT SO SAD THAT YOULL NEVER

Part 2 in the works 👀👀

When I say treat me like a Princess this is what I mean, let me enjoy stuff while getting bent over okay? Multitasking

Katsuki leaves the small cramped shower first, steps out into the bedroom of the rental so he can dry off easily while giving you room to finish washing your hair.

Peeking into the bathroom and even opening the glass shower door with a serious face, "Yer not done yet? Hurry up."

"Obviously I'm not done Suki." You hiss playfully flinging some suds onto his bare chest that he dries off, "Are you not getting ready?"

"Nah not yet." Slowly his face morphs from serious to a devilish grin as he speaks.

"I want ya to hurry up so you can enjoy the view of the beach while I fuck you til your eyes cross."

"Let me grow old with you and I promise to be wiser," took my whole damn breath away 🫠 got me melting.

Uh-oh! I think you're holding the heart of mine!

Synopsis ! You should have known better than to love someone so cruel.

Content and warning: Ao'nung x Reader! Ao'nung is a mean IDIOT, his friends too. BULLIES >:[ he comes around tho (2.6k words of angst to comfort hahah)

You’ve been in love with Ao’nung since you were little kids, always trailing behind like a second shadow and mimicking even the smallest gestures. To you, he was the sun; so bright and achingly alluring, but like the sun, he was cruel— oh so cruel. He’d burn you every chance he gets and you’d take it willingly, grateful for even the slightest touch of warmth. 

You never took it to heart. Never. This was a challenge that you’ve accepted with great pride thinking that you could crack his mean demeanor; you were convinced that the reason he had this seemingly tough exterior was because he was future clan leader— of course he needed to be strong. It would be bad for his image to falter, let alone to a girl who held no title whatsoever. You were nobody. 

Tsireya would say otherwise. though. She was your number one supporter; always urging you to do better and to continue with your cute antics towards his brother. She knows you’d be great for him— heck, you were the only one she deemed suitable for Ao’nung. How could she not think so? You were a great hunter, always quick on your feet and vigilant. On top of that, you were resilient. You never knew when to give up. 

You were believed to have been loved, regardless of his very actions. You remember crying to Tsireya one afternoon, showing her the graze on your forearm. The sight of it alarmed her— anything bloodied, even in the smallest of form would worry any kid so she rushed you to her mother. 

Ronal cooed while she tended to your wound and you unconsciously poured your heart out about how Ao’nung had pushed you harshly down the sand, scraping your skin on scattered rocks in the process. His friends had laughed at you, pointing their fingers to your fragile form, cowering. 

“Maybe he’s being aggressive because he likes you back!” Tsireya reasons, oblivious to what really was the case— but you were only kids, rough housing and games like these were normal so you didn’t know any better either. You wiped your runny nose and took a deep breath. 

“You really think so?” and still you were hopeful. 

Tsireya nodded enthusiastically, taking your hands near her chest. Ronal softly smiled, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I’m sorry about Ao’nung, ma __. I’ll be sure to give him a good scolding later when he gets home.”

“And who knows, maybe he does like you. Boys just don’t like to talk about their feelings.” What Ronal said only burned your hopes higher— encouraging your heart to push for a longer run.

It wasn’t always like this. You and him were best of friends, inseparable and kind. You were a trio along with Tsireya and you absolutely loved spending time with them; swimming, exploring the ocean– being kids. Ever since, you knew he was the one, almost like it was the great mother’s own will. The feelings blossomed every spent time with him and you cherished it wholeheartedly. 

“You should eat plenty so that you grow up to be strong, Ao’nung!” You’d force bits of fish near his lips, urging him to open up. He was throwing a tantrum after being scolded by Ronal, arms tightly crossed and refusing to eat anything. “I don’t want a lanky mate!”

And of course it had been a joke. You’d love him regardless of what he looked like and you knew it, but it was so forward of you and it would always catch him off guard. His cheeks would burn bright red and he’d turn into a stuttering mess. 

“Mate?” He asked incredulously which you returned with an eager nod. ”That’s grown up talk! Don’t say things like that until we’re older.” 

“You’re gonna have so many pretty children!” Tsireya would comment and you both would squeal, oblivious to the frantic young boy. 

After he had started to train, Ao’nung was naturally introduced to other warriors. He fit in perfectly. As much as you were happy for him, that was also when things took a turn and before you know it, it was only you and Tsireya left. 

Ao’nung thought that what you had for him would be harmless– a silly crush your young heart couldn’t comprehend yet, but you had now grown into a fine woman and the said love had developed just as much. The people weren’t blind to see how you’ve matured so beautifully– but the men your age knew better than to even try to talk to you. Everyone knew you had eyes for Ao’nung and him only, and the way he grew himself had women dote for him. 

It drove him crazy; the sly comments, the lingering touch, the gifts– your very presence. He didn’t know how to handle it, so when his heart beat turned frantic everytime, he’d call it frustration. How his face would burn, how his chest would tighten. Ao’nung was conflicted and his mother was right– boys don’t like to talk about their feelings and he never will. 

He’d push you away harshly. Snapping the countless bracelets you’ve carefully crafted for him, embarrassing you regardless of eyes watching, and belittled you any chance he gets. Every woman would cry there and then, immediately running off in embarrassment– but you stayed everytime and it infuriated him. Ao’nung couldn’t shake you off, even if you weren’t around. You were everywhere he went, even in dreams. 

You sat with him as he sharpened his fishing spear, not even sparing a glance at your presence. “Oel ngati kameie, Ao’nung.” 

The silence didn’t falter you. In fact, it was inviting you to continue. You were surprised he hadn’t even got up to leave so you gratefully took the opportunity and handed him a present wrapped in leaves. He dropped his weapon and begrudgingly took it, opening it in one go. 

It was a pretty tie with various beads along the strings. His hair was sometimes unruly and he disliked braiding it, so you figured you’d make him something to wear. For a minute, he stared, admiring it– but the way your smile grew every second had embarrassed him. Ao’nung snickered, throwing it carelessly on the ground and you immediately scrambled to look for it.

“I’m not interested.” He emphasized every word as if he tried to make you understand, harshly kicking the sand towards your kneeling body. Ao’nung left and you could only stare with a sigh.  

So maybe this time, you were to blame. After all the years he’d push you away, embarrass you in front of his friends, you were still the same stupid shell of a girl who thought he had finally changed– he had finally cracked and you were confident. It was afternoon when they approached you, asking for your presence while they hunted further the reefs. Ao’nung had asked you– Ao’nung.

Nothing else mattered, not even the obvious snickers from the background. You nodded enthusiastically, tripping on your heels as you hurriedly ran back home to get ready. They had already mounted their Ilu when you returned and without a word, you followed them. 

So maybe this time, you were to blame. You should’ve known better than to be so trusting– so gullible and naive. Night was approaching quickly and Ao’nung or any of his friends were nowhere to be seen. The thrashing waves would unmercifully shove your small body on the very rock that helped you keep afloat, its harsh and sharp edges scratching your skin. The ocean was reprimanding you, you’ve concluded after trying to hold on for hours– the blame was yours and yours only. Stupid, stupid girl.

They had left you and this time, you knew well enough it had been their intention. 

They were laughing back at shore, applauding themselves for a successful prank. You were to return later all disheartened and the sight would be the cherry on top, but Ao’nung grew restless every minute. This was wrong and he knew that well. 

His friends had already bid their goodbyes but he stood there, waiting. He started to walk in circles while fidgeting his fingers– something was wrong. Perhaps it was a sibling thing for Tsireya to start feeling uneasy as well, so she excused herself from her mother and seeked for his brother. It wasn’t hard to find him and when she did, her panic only worsened as she approached him. 

“What’s wrong, brother?” Tsireya asked, eyebrows knitted together. 

“__” He immediately answered, “__ is outside the reef.”

Tonowari and a few warriors immediately ventured out to search for you. Tsireya couldn't even be enraged at his brother as she was busy worrying herself– but Ronal was a different case. She had been biting his ear off the very moment he told her what happened but Ao’nung easily tuned her out, only hearing his rapid heartbeat. 

It felt like forever, but the moment his father had returned, he ran towards him straight away. There you were, a warrior propping you up gently as you limped. You were bloodied and out of breath– he winced at the cuts coating your skin. Before he could even approach you, you had flinched. 

The look you gave him made him shudder. It was so unlike you to look at him differently, so empty and void of any admiration. Suddenly, his throat was awfully parched and he was entirely unmoving– all the apologies that were begging to be spat out from the tip of his tongue, gone. You stood there, staring with your teary doe eyes. 

His presence made you nauseous and you would’ve cowered in instinct, if not for the warrior’s hold on your shoulders. You could’ve died– you almost did; you were already slipping and numb.

Your parents had immediately ran to you, crying as they held you near. They rushed your weary body to Ronal in a heartbeat. The clan spoke in whispers as Tonowari dispersed the growing crowd. 

Ao’nung could only watch at your retreating figure. He visibly gulped. This was it, he thought, this was what he wished for. 

And it had only hurt him terribly.

He stayed near the hut regardless and heard how you whimpered– how you’d sniffle and cry. The paste burned against your skin and you couldn’t help but squirm. You felt so ugly, so humiliated and little. 

Ronal finally walks out, the sound of the flap waking Ao’nung’s drowsy state. “Mother, how is she?” He receives only a scornful glare as she walks past him. 

“Mother, please.” 

“I am deeply disappointed in you, Ao’nung” She said, clearly holding back. The tsahik sighed, “but for her sake, I will save you from any more scolding. It is what she asks for.” 

And it was so like you to think of him before yourself. It applied more pressure on his already beaten heart and he could only drop his head in shame. This was his fault and he had to face the consequences he so begged for all these years– so where did this sickening desire to hold you close come from? It was bittersweet on his tongue and no water could get rid of the taste. 

“I know that look, brother.” Tsireya didn’t have to glance to see his troubled state. It’s been days– no, weeks. He couldn’t get to you; skilfully blending in with your surroundings and out his sight, scurrying quickly towards another direction– it was clear you wanted nothing to do with him. 

It pained him– absolutely shattered him to pieces. 

“I can’t reach her, Tsireya.” His frown deepens as he frustratingly tugged on his hair. 

“And you will never again!” Ao’nung flinched. As much as Tsireya enjoyed the torment of his brother, she still rooted for the both of you– still standing firm with the fact that you’d do good for him, but she thought of you and knew you also deserved better. With a dejected sigh, she whispers,  “If.. you don’t hurry.” 

“Her hideout. Now. Go make things right.” Tsireya hoped she was doing the right thing.

Ao’nung darted in a heartbeat– disrupting the busy clan and accidentally bumping into them. He couldn’t waste any time anymore, he had to get to you or else he’d forever hold his peace. Every step he took was an image of you with someone else; someone else willing to make you happy, someone else to be your mate. 

And he hated that. It only fueled him to go faster, eventually reaching a pond surrounded by trees. The place was hidden and only the three of you knew where it was located– it was your safe place.

There you were, relaxed and unknowing. It was cruel like this; for Eywa to strikingly illustrate you in a different light– in a different point of view, or perhaps it had never changed and he just chose to never look at you the way he’s staring now. You were absolutely beautiful, basking in the glow of the dusk. The water swayed you gently and the calm on your face was inviting. 

This was his only chance. 

Ao’nung approached you, allowing the water to swallow him near you. He called out your name in a whisper and you immediately turned to him in surprise. Before he could even get another word out, you tried to hoist yourself up to escape, but he was quick to grab your wrist. 

You hissed in return, his touch burning the healing cuts on your skin. “You don’t get to be sorry.” 

You had turned your back on him and only then did he see the same tie that you tried to give him around your hair. It was gut-wrenching– the taste of his own medicine. 

“I knew you wanted me off your skin, but I didn’t realize you wanted me gone.” And he knew what you meant, immediately wincing at the thought.

“I’m sorry, __” The apology came out almost in a desperate manner. Ao’nung was aching to touch you– to hug you close. He was willing to apologize forever, if it meant that you’d finally turn around and look at him, but when you did, his body went rigid and he wanted to swallow his words. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

You were crying and you looked everywhere but him. He took a step forward and when you didn’t retreat, he took the chance to hold your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. You absolutely hated it– hated him. Even after everything, he was warm. “You don’t get to be sorry.”

“How could you be so,” You hit his chest harshly, the water splashing along your movements, “How could you be so mean?”

“I am young, __” Ao’nung softly said, his eyes on you unmoving. “Young and absolutely stupid.” 

“Damn right you are.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “I never had anyone love me the way you do. Anyone who paid me any mind wanted me for my status– they only wanted the olo'eyktan’s son.” 

You turned your head with a click of a tongue, only for him to grab your chin to look at him again. Of course you never wanted him because of his or his parent’s title– you loved him genuinely and he was a coward to not see that. His expression was nothing but sincere and you hated it.

“I am young and stupid, __, so please.” He takes another step forward and you were sure the small gap between your bodies had cut your inability to breathe. The water had gone cold and you couldn’t move. You stayed there, looking up at him. “Let me grow old with you and I promise to be wiser.” 

“I see you, __.”

☆ mauve here! FINALLY DONE W THIS AO'NUNG PIECE, JESUS CHRIST. this was actually the first thing i've originally written prior to making this account because the lack of aonung content was >:(((( so here i am, giving him my long awaited attention. finding pictures of him were so hard as well! i enjoyed writing this though, i love aonung and his sibling dynamic w tsireya

i left this in a cliffhanger, i think, BECAUSE personally i wouldn't let that slide. i wouldve left aonung to beg FOR DAYS but eh

© avatarkv, do not repost.

soft as clouds is so good!!! you’re a rly good writer! could i be added to the tag list? thanks :)

I'm blushing 🥰 of course dearest

Reposting to read laterrrrrrr

title: save me.

pairing: childhoodfriend!katsuki x reader

katsuki has always saved you, his princess.

the first time you asked katsuki to save you was in kindergarten.

you'd fell and scraped your knees after some other little boy shoved you to the ground, upset that you had taken the swings from him earlier. you were in tears as you begged, "save me kacchan!" as his eyes widened and a feeling he couldn't describe overtook him, he scared off the other boy, happily taking the praise from you as you looked at him stargazed, in awe of his strength.

from that day on he swore to protect you, in all the games you'd play, he'd be the knight, you'd be the pretty princess in the tower, and his gang of friends would be monsters, trying to attack you.

he'd superglued your hands together at recess once too, just to keep you with him. he smiled as he said, "now we'll be together forever!" the reprimanding the two of you faced because he did so was worth it in his opinion, as the message stuck throughout the years.

it manifested in his protective nature over you never ceasing even as you two aged. in middle school the guy who'd been rude to you to the point of tears in biology came to you the next day, shakily begging you to forgive him. guys wouldn't look your way, terrified to even upset you. when you confronted katsuki about it? he'd deny it, say you must've done something yourself.

katsuki felt you were the only one who was his equal, the only one he wanted by his side on his journey to become number one.

that's why he was glad to be with you in u-a, why he 'let' you apply without the public humiliation he'd inflicted on izuku.

since you two were together constantly due to the dorms, you'd do everything together. you'd study together, train, sit next to eachother in class, eat lunch together. you'd even developed a habit of napping in his bed, waking up with horrible 'bedhair', not knowing it was because he'd play with it when you were fast asleep.

and as you two graduated, becoming pro-heroes, getting married. opening an agency together, plans for children on the way.

plans that were all thrown out as quickly as they were conceived.

the last time you asked katsuki to save you was when you were bleeding out in the destroyed streets of the city. debris and destruction surrounding you as you struggled to even mutter the phrase. "..s-save.. me." you could barely see him, let alone see the heartbreak and despair in his reaction.

everything hurt, your body could barely process why. maybe it was the fact you were being impaled on a blade of steel, brought forth by the villain who'd caused this madness in the first place.

"you're.. you're gonna be okay." he said, equally for yourself and him. trying to convince himself this was all a nightmare, one he'd hope he'd wake up from soon.

but as he looked over at you, processing the fatal wound in your stomach. he knew he couldn't be selfish and lie to you a second longer.

his words came out cracked as he confessed, 'i.. i don't-- i can't help you.'

how dare you? how dare you try comforting him in your last moments, reaching out to coddle his face with the hand that wasn't mangled, softly smiling and ignoring the blood cascading down your mouth as you dedicated your last words just to him. "i love you.. you've always- been my knight, katsuki."

he felt your hand drop, but he rushed to pick it up. he had never felt so hopeless in his life, he always swore to protect you.. and yet? he failed. he was a broken man as he was escorted away from your corpse, only your ring to serve as a permanent reminder of what he lost.

he was a broken man as he tried and miserably continued life without you, seeing you in everything, yet never feeling you again.

the only form of solace he would ever get was to find that villain, and to pummel him into the ground. and he did so, feeling so gratified in the moment, as if he'd served justice in your honor.

but all the blood he'd shed would be worthless,

for nothing could bring back his pretty princess in her tower.

alt ending!

My Colorguard Coach marches Baritone here! GO NICHOLAS!

Phantom Regiment rehearsal in Nevada feat. The Phantomettes

Inspirational Anime Video --Why Do We Fall?--2013

Uh I'm sorry 😭 this made my bawl like a baby 👶🏼 someone help me 💙💙😫

love lost {neteyam sully}

neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan x fem na'vi!reader

requested: n/a (well... kind of. i pitched the idea to julie and she encourages me too much <3)

words: 4.0k (this is... double the length of what i had planned oop)

a/n: the way of water spoilers i stg if you haven't watched the movie you don't get to bitch about spoilers if you read this fic listen. listen i love neteyam so much. and as much as i would like to write a canon variance fic, i also have fun writing angst. my forte is more hurt/comfort and "angsty but there will be fluff and a happy ending" because i'm a softie and a romantic but sad angst is still fun to write

warnings/tags: hurt/no comfort, implied doing the dirty, mating (sfw), death, grieving/mourning, depression symptoms, implied suicidal ideation, reader and neteyam are about 18/19 because that's how old i thought he was when i watched the movie, mostly canon compliant (whoops), SPOILERS, no proofreading we die like neteyam men

pronouns: she/her

na'vi translations:

oeyä - my (possessive) narlor - beautiful (visually) muntxa si - mate / marry yawne - beloved

From a young age, it was clear that you would spend the rest of your life by Neteyam’s side. He was your best friend, the first person to treat him as just another kid and not the first born son of the olo’eyktan. 

As you grew together, the way you felt about each other seemed to grow in sync, from entirely platonic best friends, to teenagers who would sneak out of chores to kiss in the forest. One day, while leaning against his chest and feeling his fingers play with the beaded ends of your braids, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, whispering into your skin.

“Once we have finished the rites, I want to be yours,” your breath hitched at his words, “forever.” You blinked, twisting to look up at him with wide eyes. “If you’ll have me.” You rolled your eyes, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

“Of course I’ll have you.” Neteyam broke into a wide  smile, as if for a moment he expected you would say anything else. “In this life and the next.” If you were told as a child, that at sixteen, just days before he made his first kill, that you and Neteyam would be promising to be each other’s mates, you would have laughed them off.

Now, you were beaming at him while sat on his lap, pressing kisses to his mouth and cheeks, eliciting laughter from him as he fell back, arms wrapped around your waist. 

Your parents and his had all apparently known of his plans to propose to you that evening, as they were all waiting for you in the Sully family hut as you arrived, excited that your families would become one. As Kiri swatted Lo’ak for throwing his hands in the air with a loud exclamation of ‘finally’, Mo’at guided you away from the crowd.

“Once you begin your rites, I shall teach you to use and amplify your connection to Eywa.” Her eyes were soft as she rested her hands on your shoulders. “I believe you shall become a strong Tsahik.” You thanked her with a bow, grateful that she would so willingly teach you and flattered at her compliment.

Time seemed to move both too fast and not fast enough over the next year and a half as you both completed your rites and became adults of the clan. Like his father, Neteyam became one of the greatest Omaticaya warriors, proudly taking his place at the olo’eyktan’s side. But however strong and fearless he became, his eyes always softened as he looked at you, an impatience within him to finally have you as his official mate, to be able to say he is yours entirely. 

Like Mo’at told, your connection to Eywa grew, able to understand her guidance with ease. Quickly, you learned that your favourite part of being the future Tsahik was healing. Being able to help those in your clan that were injured or unwell was always rewarding. And despite her being your personal guide and teacher, you were extremely honoured every time Mo’at invited you to assist in ceremonies with Eywa in front of the clan. 

Neteyam’s ceremony was performed around a month after your own, and still, he waited a week to ask you again to be his mate.

With his fingers easily weaved between your own, he guided you toward the bioluminescent clearing where he had first proposed. (And where, two short years before that, you had shared your first kiss). Neteyam held both of your hands, close enough that you could count the freckles scattered across his face; not that you hadn’t done so many times before. 

“I know I have already asked you this,” his voice was soft and nervous as he spoke, “but I want to ask again.” As he drew in a slow, shuddered breath, you leaned up and pressed a kiss beside his mouth. “Will you be my mate? Would you honour me with allowing me to be yours forever?” Your eyes watered, crying despite knowing what he was going to ask, and you nodded with a smile. But still he waited, wanting to hear you say it. 

“Neteyam, yes. I would love to be your mate.” He let out a sigh of relief, quick to drop your hands to grab your face and kiss you. You smiled against each other’s mouths, hands on each other and pulling each other as close as you physically could.

His hands slide down your body and grasp the underside of your thighs, lifting you so your legs could wrap around his waist. With his mouth never leaving yours, Neteyam carefully sat down and rested you on his lap, the ground lighting up under him. 

“You are so breathtaking.” He whispered against your lips and you pulled away with a flustered laugh, forehead rested against his. Neteyam was never shy about complimenting you, but somehow his words never failed to cause your heart to skip and the tips of your ears to warm. 

“Oel ngati kamele, Ma Neteyam.” You ran your fingers over his bicep causing goosebumps to raise as you spoke with a sigh.

Wordlessly, you reached up behind you to grab your braid that safely held your queue, pulling it over your shoulder and dragging your fingers down to the end. The soft tendrils of your queue reached for him, yearning for him just as your heart did. Neteyam mirrored your movement, bringing his queue around, and held it just in front of your own. Your eyes flicked up from your queues to meet his eyes. 

Although you had loved each other since you were children, you were both still nervous that the other would change their mind. 

“I am yours.” You asserted. Neteyam dropped his head forward to press your foreheads together again.

“Yours. I have always been yours.” 

As your queues entangled, you sucked in a short breath, body relaxing as you watched his pupils dilate. Your heart began to race as your breaths began to match his, eyes falling closed. After years of promises and soft kisses in the dark, your souls were entwined and could never be separated.

---

You squeezed Neteyam’s hand as Tarsem’s hand dropped against Jake’s chest in a fist, cementing the change in leader and the end of Jake’s reign as olo’eyktan. The Suli Tseyeyk’itan family were leaving the clan as sky people threatened to hunt them. Revenge on Jake for something that happened nearly two decades ago. Neteyam had offered to let you stay with the clan while he left with his family. But you refused, reminding him that you were his mate, by his side forever. And if his family was in danger, you were included in that. 

Neteyam pulled you up behind him onto his ikran and you easily wrapped your arms around his waist, head resting on the back of his shoulders. It was a position that you had been in before, taken on many flights by your mate from the day that he bonded with his flying beast. 

But the pit in your stomach still reminded you of how different this would be. You were leaving your clan and the only family and life you had ever known. You knew that you would follow Neteyam to the ends of Pandora, but the change was still scary. You had no way of knowing what was to come with leaving your home, you had no idea what your new one would look like. Neteyam reached down and rested his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze as his ikran took off. 

No two na’vi described the effects of mating the same, Eywa giving each couple a different way of connecting and understanding each other. For you and Neteyam, it seemed that it had given you both the ability to understand the deep emotions of each other. You could tell when he was stressed about the pressures of his future title and he could tell when your anxiety sunk deep into your bones. It was as if you could feel him in the depths of your being, an overlay on the edge of your soul. 

So he knew, as you pressed your chest against him and felt the rush of the wind whistling past his ears, that you were afraid of what was to come. But with his hand pressed safely against your thigh, the warmth spreading from where the skin met, it reassured you that whatever happened he would be by your side and making things a little less scary. 

---

Neteyam always asserted that you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Even as a child, there was something about you that made him smile and desperate to hear your laugh. You had swum together many times in the various ponds around the Home Tree and Ayram alusing, but watching you rise out of the ocean, flicking water out of your braids with a shake and laughing with Tsireya, he could swear that he fell in love with you all over again. 

“Bro,” Lo’ak smacked his chest, bringing his attention back to their ilu training, “she’s already your mate, you can stop the lovesick staring.” Neteyam hit him back, looking back over at you to see your attention already on him. You sent him a soft wave, which he happily returned with a smile.

--- 

Despite Jake’s best attempt at keeping his family safe and keeping the war away, the need for vengeance from a man who was supposed to be long dead was too strong. All too quickly the sky people in their boat with their machines that killed tulkun with ease arrived.

You held onto the ilu tightly as you all raced to catch up with Lo’ak, the ocean spray whipping at you. You knew it was dangerous, leaving Awa’atlu, it was stupid and reckless but Lo’ak was determined to warn the tulkun he had bonded with. 

You watched in awe as the giant creature rose from the ocean, eagerly greeting Lo’ak, who began to panic once noticing a red spear-like tracker in the beast’s shoulder. You wasted little time, standing up on the ilu and diving into the water, swimming over to help the boy pull the tracker out. Neteyam was close behind you, and he helped pull up the Metkayina teens who had come with you. 

You heard Lo’ak radio their father while Kiri and Tuk climbed onto the tulkun and finally, as the sky people boat rounded the rocky bluff, the six of you pulled the tracker out.

“Go that way, I’ll draw them off.” Neteyam ordered, holding the tracker. As you opened your mouth to rebut, he cut you off. “Go with Tsireya. I’ll be okay.” You huffed at him, but obliged, swimming beside the girl and grabbing hold of her ilu’s saddle. 

---

You held onto the ilu as Lo’ak raced towards the rocky island with Neteyam leaning against him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, the way he wheezed with each breath. There was no way to explain it, but you could feel a heat blooming in your chest. You hadn’t seen him get shot, having been with Tsireya after she escaped the large ship, but you immediately knew, your mated connection through Eywa causing a phantom pain. 

You could only watch as Spider and Tsireya guided Neteyam up to Jake, who helped them pull him onto the rocks. Jake rolled him onto his side to check for wounds before he laid him back. For a moment, he looked between you and Lo’ak who kneeled beside Neteyal, but quickly chose to take Lo’ak’s hands and had him apply pressure. 

As Neteyam gasped for breath, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath either. With shaky hands you took his, lowering yourself down so you could hold it to your mouth, staring up at him with glassy eyes. 

His breaths grew shorter, more panicked, as Neytiri landed her ikran and fell to her knees between you and Lo’ak. Jake held his face as he reassured him that it would be okay, and you felt like your throat was closing. Then everything stopped, and Jake pulled his hand away from Neteyam’s cheek.

Everything sounded muffled, like you were underwater or had cups over your ears. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It felt as though your lungs stopped taking in air and like someone was squeezing your heart. You couldn’t hear what Neytiri was saying as she shook Neteyam’s shoulders, you could only hear the anguish in her voice. You felt it in your chest as she screamed and Jake pulled her to his chest. You looked over as the sounds around you echoed to see Lo’ak staring down at his red-stained hands. 

You rocked on your knees, internally pleading with Eywa to wake you up, give you a sign that this was a nightmare and the emptiness in your chest was a horrid lie. You didn’t bother wiping away any of your tears, barely noticing them as they rolled down your cheeks and met with the back of Neteyam’s hand, which you hadn’t moved from your lips in the hopes that it would twitch, that he would be alive. 

Then, all at once, sound returned. And you screamed. Pained and desperate, your voice cracking. You dropped his hand and collapsed down into Neteyam’s chest, pleading with Eywa to let his heart start beating again. You could hear voices, Jake and Neytiri’s, but what they were saying didn’t register. All you could focus on as you sobbed was the hollow, empty feeling deep in your chest. You let out a pained wail as you sat up, turning to Jake as you felt his hand rest on your shoulder. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again, instead choosing to give you a soft, sad look. 

You were left alone on the rocks with Neteyam as the others left to return to the ship and save the Sully daughters. You sat beside him cross-legged, and carefully pulled his head into your lap as if trying not to wake him from sleep. As gently as you could, you wiped away the blood staining his skin, wanting to erase all evidence that he was hurt, then you ran your fingers over his face, pushing his braids to the side and wiping away water and tears (both his and your own) from his star-speckled cheeks. Once you were satisfied, you gently closed his eyes.

Neteyam was always so beautiful as he slept, and you always loved the mornings when you would wake up before him leaving you able to roll over and stare at his peaceful expression. He would always get embarrassed when you told him he was pretty when he slept, the tips of his ears flushing pink. 

“Ma Neteyam. Oeyä narlor muntxa si.” You pressed your lips to his forehead while you whispered to him. “Oeyä yawne. Please, come back to me. I cannot do this without you, I cannot live the rest of my life without you. You were supposed to be by my side forever.” You hiccuped as a sob broke out of you. You leaned back, staring up at the sky. “Great Mother, please. Please, do not take him from me, Great Mother.” You continued to sob and plead with Eywa and Neteyam’s heart as the boat exploded and a fire broke out. 

The yellow-orange light reflected in your eyes and the tears that stained your cheeks. You barely registered the warmth, unable to feel without Neteyam. 

---

You swam with the Sully family, close to Jake and Neytiri as they carried Neteyam’s body toward the Metkayina’s cove of ancestors. You had no idea whether the salted damp permanently on your cheeks was your tears or the ocean as the two had long-since become one and the same. You barely ate, you barely spoke. Everything felt as though you were fighting quicksand, too much effort for you. 

Jake and Neytiri had told you that you could swim his body down with them, but you refused, knowing that if you did, it was unlikely you would be able to bring yourself back to the surface without him. 

You and Lo’ak stayed by each other’s side, your hand holding his in a desperate attempt to not take in a breath of water. He held out his other hand toward his brother, while you squeezed your fist to your chest hoping the pinch of your nails into your palm would let you feel more than just numb. 

The glowing anemone reached out to Neteyam, pulling him down and into its warmth. His energy was being returned to Eywa. As the glow absorbed him you let out a sob, realising that he was gone. Your mate, the man who promised he would be by your side forever, was gone and had left you alone with a tightness in your throat and feeling as though there was part of your soul missing. 

Once you made your way back to your hut, you returned to the place you had been laying since you returned to Awa’atlu after being separated from Neteyam; the mat you had shared with Neteyam in the corner and wrapped in the blanked you had brought with you from your home with the Omatikaya clan, the blanket that still smelled so much like your mate. 

Every time you closed your eyes, Neteyam was there with his wide eyes and bright smile. You could still hear his laugh and feel his touch on your skin as you fell asleep. As you slept, you dreamt of the life you were supposed to have with him, by his side as you grew old together, starting your own family that would share the way he smiled and that look he got when he was flying on his ikran. 

You let out a sob and it broke Neytiri’s heart to hear as she passed by. She had seen the way her mother suffered after her father’s death, knowing that the bond of a mate left the living feeling less than themselves. And she herself had nearly lost her Jake once, and that pain was all consuming. Knowing that pain and mixing it with the grief she felt over losing her son, she could only imagine how you felt, so young and without your mate. 

Silently she entered, bowl of food in her hand. Neytiri knew you hadn’t eaten all day, and you were still a part of her family. She slowly crouched beside you and you jolted when you felt her hand on your shoulder. You sniffed, nose still blocked from the crying that never seemed to end, and looked down at the food she offered. You shook your head, having no appetite. Food would not solve the feeling that someone had opened your chest and removed your heart, the only solution to that was buried with the ancestors. 

“My sweet,” her words were soft, and you looked up at her with teary eyes, “are you ready to go to the Spirit Tree?” In the weeks since his death, Neytiri and Jake asked you this question in variation every day, hoping that seeing him in Eywa would ease your grief. They had learned quickly that saying Neteyam’s name visibly broke your already shattered heart even further, even more than the question itself. Neither were sure how long it would take until you were ready, but both did their best to keep you afloat in your grief.

Every time you thought of him, it felt as though you had breathed in water, your lungs heavy and your throat tight. Your breaths came in heaves, every inhale an effort against the thick air of loss. It was rare you were seen outside of your hut, the darkness within keeping you captive.

But you surprised Neytiri when you slowly shrugged off the blanket and nodded. She blinked down at you, but quickly offered you her hand. You took it, accepting her help in pulling you to your feet, the weight on the unused limbs causing you to wobble slightly. 

“I’m afraid.” Your voice was small, scratched from your tears and it’s lack of use. 

“Of what?” Neytiri left a comforting hand on your back, knowing that you may collapse into your consuming grief. 

“That the spirit with Eywa is from before we mated.” That was half true. 

After Jake and Neytiri returned from the Spirit Tree, Jake had told you that the Neteyam he saw was from when he was younger. If you saw that version, he may not even know that you were together at all. 

She hummed as your eyes itched. Neytiri knew you were hiding from her, and while she didn’t want to force your words, she wanted you to know that there was nothing to be ashamed of when it came to expressing your grief.

“And that I’ve forgotten his face.” That confession is what broke you, a whimpered sob breaking from your throat. “I see him everywhere and in everything. I see him when I sleep and I hear him when it’s quiet. But what if the face I remember isn’t the right one.” Neytiri stopped walking and guided you toward her in a hug. You cried freely as her hand ran circles on your back.

She didn’t need to speak, her presence enough. She was, in human terms, your mother-in-law, and she took that very seriously. You were her child, the mated soul of her son. Neytiri would protect you in every way she could and that included keeping you safe from self-destructing in your grief and comforting you in your fears. 

You sucked in a shuddered breath and pulled yourself away from her, apologising for your tears that stuck to her skin. Neytiri waved you off and let you choose the direction to continue in: either back to your hut or toward the Spirit Tree.

---

You sucked in a deep breath before bending at the waist and swimming down toward the glowing tendrils of the Metkayina clan’s Spirit Tree. The cool glow reflected off your skin and you squeezed your eyes closed as you reached behind you and took hold of your braided queue. 

Eywa, please. Let me see My Neteyam again.

You were home again. Back in the deep forest, feet padding along the glowing moss. You pushed aside the familiar branches that revealed the clearing. Your clearing. The place of your first kiss, where he proposed, where you mated. 

You looked around, already tearing up again (a seemingly constant state for you) at being home, when the sound of a pebble bouncing along the water met you. Your ears flicked toward the sound, and your head quickly followed.

Squatting by the pond, arm still extended from the throw, was Neteyam. You let out a short, shuddered breath at the sight of him, and you saw his ears flick. 

He turned, eyes bright and smile warm, his chest showing no sign of the wound that took him from you. Neteyam was exactly as you saw him when you closed your eyes.

“Ma y/n!” At the sound of his voice, the tears broke free and his face dropped, immediately rushing over to you and bringing his hands to your upper arms. “Yawne, what’s wrong?” You shook your head, not wanting him to worry about you. He brought one hand to your chin and you leaned into it. 

“I’m just-” your voice cracked, “I’m so happy to see you.” He tilted his head with a soft smile, leaning down to press his forehead against your own. 

“I’ve missed you.” You felt his breath on your lips and more tears rolled down your flushed cheeks, though they were quickly wiped away by his thumb. You tilted your head to kiss him, ignoring the saltiness of the tears that stuck to your lips. 

“I don’t want to leave you.” Your voice was wet with tears, and Neteyam leaned back to look at you.

“Yawne, I am always with you.” You shook your head but he continued to speak. “But you cannot stay here forever. Not yet.” Neteyam kissed you slowly, pouring out the love that he held for you and making up for the kisses you had missed since his death. 

You opened your mouth to ask why not, but you felt a pain in your lungs. A pain that pulled you away from Neteyam and back to the ocean as your body begged for breath. 

reblogs and kind words are always appreciated!!

tagging: @websterss

Goodnight lovelies~🥵😜👀

“Succubus in Training” Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Class 1A has a Sex-Ed class that teaches them about a new species of humans that have sexual quirks and can be summoned. The Bakusquad decides it would be funny to test it out on an unsuspecting Bakugou. However, after you show up and rock his world, Bakugou is the one who will have the last laugh.

Word Count: 3,903

Warnings: Smut

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday, Bakugou Katsuki~ I love you so fucking much. I wish I could give you a special present today, but instead, I’m going to have to fantasize about it. Happy Birthday baby~

PART 2

Keep reading

Oop, he be winning alright 🥇

ao’nung is frustrated.

at least, that’s what you’ve deduced from watching him sharpen his knife for the past ten minutes straight. if he keeps going, it might get as thin as a wish bone; threatening to snap at the slightest bit of pressure. as much as you’d find amusement in the sight of that, you’d rather not be in the crossfire when it happens.

“what’s got you caught in its net?” you ask, finally, as you drop the gear you’ve been mending while ao’nung simmers.

“funny,” he mutters, but mirth is not something found in his tone. another scrape, another grating. he does not look over at you.

“i know. i’m the funniest person alive. you should be grateful you have the opportunity to bask in my presence.”

it’s a ploy—a tease. like waving fresh bait in front of a young ilu but never tossing it into the water for them to eat. your tactic with ao’nung is always the same. push and pull and prod just enough that he bites back with less venom and more demure. because sarcasm is better than spite, in all regards.

except now, he doesn’t take it. now, he simply keeps his head tucked down, his lips pressed in a hard line. whittling at his knife and spouting invisible steam out of his ears.

you stand up, make your way over to him and bend slightly at the waist to slide your hands along his sloped shoulders. his muscles go taut—just a bit—at the initial contact of your palms, but relax a second later. not to their resting state, no, but leaving the field of caught off guard at the very least. you hum, lean down further as you dip your hands over his clavicles, across the upper half of his sternum.

“what is wrong, ao‘nung?” its sincere, this time. your question. because despite the dynamic between the two of you, you really do care—jokes and jabs aside.

this silence is different. you can tell by the twitch of his ears that he’s thinking; mulling something over on his tongue before he decides whether to spit it out or swallow it down. you can never guess which one it will be, not with him. he acts on whims, never strategy. there is no speculating his next move, so you simply don’t try to.

“there has been talk among the reef.” it’s all he says; all he gives. such a shell of a man, forcing you to pry open his jaws to reach the pearl within.

it is good that you’ve always been so skilled with your hands.

“there is always talk among the reef,” you chuckle, begin to fiddle with the necklace that’s strung around his neck. hooking your chin over the top of his head, you look down to watch as he grinds his knife once again. “you know they like to keep their minds busy with silly things.”

“it isn’t a silly thing.”

“oh? then tell me, what is so dire that it could have the great ao’nung this tense, hm?”

his hands falter for the first time, a pause in his rhythmic grazing. your brows furrow at that, create a hairline crease in the middle that only smooths out as he resumes his motions. scrape, scrape, scrape again. it’s like he’s doing it in sync with his heart. if you shifted your hand over just a tad, you suppose you could test that theory.

“it is talk of you.”

quiet. a mere grumble under his breath. if you were not leaned over him like this you would not have even heard him. such an odd twinge to his tone; laced with something you can’t quite decipher. can’t quite pick up on. it isn’t necessarily anger, but something flirting along the lines of it.

“me? don’t tell me you have went around spreading rumors that i am possessed by eywa’s evil sister again. i thought you stopped that when we were kids.” you laugh through it, because the jagged edges of his timbre are making your fingers itch. “you’re going to ruin my reputation.”

he scoffs. condescending, dismissive. normally you’d take that as a good sign; a call back to his regular grating demeanor. at this specific moment, however, you find annoyance in it.

“your reputation is fine,” he tilts, gives a particularly harsh press of his knife that makes you think this just might be the time where it snaps. miraculously, it doesn’t. “so completely fine.”

“then what could they possibly find reason to speak of me for?” you press, rubbing your thumb over the cord of his necklace, twisting it around your fingers. “i have not caused any trouble lately. haven’t set fire to any maruis. why, there’s nothing that i can think of that could possibly warrant—“

“they speak of your lack of mate.”

his hands are working harder, less refined. jaw clenching, deltoids growing stiff below you. it’s all starting to air itself out, his jaws have cracked open just enough that you can finally see the pretty pink pearl that rests on the bed of his tongue. but it is not enough, not yet.

“then all they speak is the truth,” you shrug over him, keep your gaze locked on his movements. you want to be sure, before you jump to the assumptions that are creating hurdles in your mind. “there is no harm in speaking of public knowledge.”

“they—“ he hitches, twists his face up like his next words are sour on his tastebuds, “they are voicing their thoughts on potentials for you. they think.. rotxo is the best option.”

“oh, yes. rotxo would be a fine potential mate.”

and, ah. there it is. the coup de grace.

ao’nung snaps his head around towards you so fast you hardly have time to lean back to avoid getting smacked in the chin by his skull. there’s a fissure between his brows, his eyes have widened past the aggravated slits they were before. his mouth is cracked open in disbelief, of the fact that you agreed with him or another matter, you aren’t sure. either way, it is clear now what has been getting under the heir’s skin.

he's jealous. and you can't help but find that the slightest bit amusing. it's not often you have ao'nung in the palm of your hand like this; akin to a bug squirming under the pad of your thumb with no clear route of escape. you think you can play this up, just a little.

"you do not think that," he states, like he needs to speak it into existence. like if he says it then it will ring true, change your mind.

(he doesn't need to change your mind, but he doesn't need to know that right now).

"why would i not?" you hum, tip your head like you're truly contemplating it. "he is sweet. has a tender heart. and he is always so quick to help me. he doesn't even complain. i think taking him as a mate would be a good decision."

"the only thing good about rotxo is his hair," ao'nung spouts, rolls his eyes at you as his face fills up with indignation. "stupid, pretty boy goody two shoes."

"oh, you're right! and he's nice to look at," you agree, nod your head right along with it, "how could i forget?"

his cheek dips; he's sucking it in between his teeth. you've really done it, you think. setting him off has never been so easy. sure, it’s never too hard to get him riled up in the middle of a bickering match. but like this? aggravated over, what, exactly? the thought of you with someone else?

maybe you’re enjoying this a bit too much.

“he is not your type.” a bold proclamation, ao’nung spits out. grasping for straws; searching blindly. “you would not go well with him.”

“i think he is my type, actually,” you dispute, and he’s stopped all his movements now. knife long forgotten as he seethes over every word you speak. “kind. loyal. good morals. easy on the eyes. yes, definitely my type. that checks off the list.”

he purses his lips, knots up his brows. “that cannot be the list.”

“no?” you peruse, play into him. he makes this too easy, really. “what do you think is on the list, then? moody? messy? long hair? a tendency to be mouthy? being the chief’s son?”

that earns you a shove off of him; a click for him to realize you’ve been fucking with him this entire time. biting back your shit eating grin would be impossible so you don’t even try to. nor do you stop the laughter that bubbles out of you as he goes back to his knife work and curses you under his breath.

you reach for him again except this time you walk around until you’re in front of him. one hand on his shoulder, you lean down to shove the knife and sharpener out of his hands and plop yourself right into the slot his crossed legs have made. his gaze is narrowed at you, his lips jutted. you simply smile—innocent, sweet—as you slide your hands around to cup the nape of his neck.

“i don’t think rotxo could handle me,” you murmur, sickeningly saccharine in such a direct contrast from seconds before. ao’nung doesn’t budge. “and the good ones are always so boring. if he was my mate, when would i ever get the chance to get up to trouble?”

“you are trouble,” ao’nung scoffs; acting annoyed, fed up. but his hands give him away as they meet the dimples of your lower back, as they slide up your spine to hold you secure so you don’t fall backwards.

his facade of pretending to not care has never been too full proof. there’s been cracks in that glass since day one.

“your trouble,” you grin. your fingers begin to draw circles along the back of his neck, tease at his hairline. “you made me this way, you know.”

“i made you nothing,” he rebuts. “you are the one who always comes up with the pesky ideas that get us scolded.”

“ah, you’re right,” you agree with a faux sigh. “humor and brains. i guess i’m the funniest and smartest person alive. truly, you should be honored.”

ao’nung rolls his eyes, peels his hands off of you. “forget ability, i do not wish to handle you now. rotxo can have you, for all i care.”

“oh?” you quirk, begin to stand up. “should i go see what he is up to—“

“sit,” ao’nung orders before you can rise no more than a few inches off of his lap; hands gripping your waist to tug you back down. the playfulness drains from his eyes, that annoyance—jealousy—flashes across sea foam irises for just a moment. “you are not funny.”

you bite the edge of your lip, making your grin turn slanted. he is so fun to tease, to toss around. his palms are warm on the dip of your waist. sliding your hands further back, you skim your finger along the side of the braid encasing his queue. faint, light. he tries to hide the shiver it causes but you pick up on it regardless. and that only makes you grin wider.

“they will speak of me until i choose a mate,” you hum as you lean closer to him, minimize the distance between your faces. “rotxo is not the only name that will be paired with mine. they all like to place their bets, you know.”

“their bets are stupid,” ao’nung mutters; gruff and rumbling out of his chest as his attention flickers, falters, the closer you get.

being this close is nothing new. being this touchy is nothing new, either. but it’s almost like your skin is buzzing, your energies feeding off one another in the moment that sends you tumbling into a smug streak. or maybe, that’s just the power ao’nung holds over you and you’re scared to admit it.

“you only think they’re stupid because your name is being outnumbered in the betting pool.” maybe that’s a little mean, but it’s fun. your fingertips are heavier now, more directed as you trace the divots of his braid with one hand and gauge the rise and fall of his chest with the other. “if you were winning, would they be stupid then?”

“i am winning,” ao’nung conveys, so sure and lacking any sense of doubt in the slightest; a variance from a few moments before. and that, well, that actually makes you falter—for just a second.

“and how do you figure that?” you mumble out the question into the minute slot between the two of you. bated and breathy.

ao’nung hooks an arm around your waist, his other hand sliding up to grip the hinge of your jaw. not harsh, not rough, but firm. cradling you carefully but securely; solidly. your breath hitches, your fingers pause on their skimming across his queue encasing.

“because i am the only one who gets to do this,” he says. blunt and honest and certain as he closes the gap severing you.

he kisses you full and deep and warm. he kisses you like he has not eaten in days and you are the one thing that can sate his hunger. he kisses you like the ocean kisses the shore; yearning and all consuming, and rushing back once more as soon as their lips must part.

and he does; chase your lips as you pull back to catch your breath. places one, two, three pecks there before he deems it a safe retreat. his eyes are lidded, but no longer from frustration. that signature crooked, haughty smirk of his is curved into his pale lips. and instead of smacking it off, you’re considering how many more kisses it would take to wipe it away.

“oh yeah,” he chuckles, lips brushing over yours as he’s already leaning in again. “so winning.”

and you can’t help but agree.

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