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Of Duty and Desire | Chapter 3 | Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I literally rewrote this like three times before I figured out what I wanted. Hopefully the next part will be a lot easier for me lol. Again, thanks for the love I got on the last chapters, and to everyone who left a comment under them, you get a little kiss on the forehead (consentually)

Word count: 7.5k (I literally cut out like 700 words too)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Epilogue

"That wasn't fair!"

You laughed at Lo'ak as he came up on his ilu behind you, looking a little sour at your victory. You slid off of your own ilu into the waist-high water and shrugged casually. "It is not my fault you took the long way," you told him with a smug grin. He huffed at you. "Only because I didn't know there was a short way," he muttered.

The two of you had been out that morning collecting sea grass to make more ropes, a never-ending demand in the reef. After gathering as much as you could pack, you had suggested a friendly race back to the village, and Lo'ak, powerless to resist a challenge, had agreed. Now, he was wallowing bitterly in your victory wake.

The two of you waded up towards the beach, and to your delight, you spotted Neteyam not far off. "Neteyam!" you called out to him, making him pause to see who was calling. "Your brother is a sore loser." Lo'ak huffed in annoyance. "Only because she cheats," he countered loudly.

As you approached Neteyam, you could make out a small smile on his face. "That is a bold accusation, brother," he replied, stepping over to where you were emerging from the water. You grinned up at him. "A bold accusation," you repeated, "and a false one."

Neteyam turned to his brother and shot him a smirk. "So, you resort to false accusations when you lose?" he questioned with a disproving shake of his head. "That's low."

Lo'ak scoffed at his brother. "Of course, you're taking her side," he said, switching to English so you wouldn't understand. "You're so obvious, it's pathetic." His words made Neteyam's lofty smile disappear immediately, and he gave his brother a warning look. "Don't," he said quietly in response.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between the two brothers. Whatever Lo'ak had said to Neteyam seemed to cut him, but you had no idea what it was. To diffuse the tension between them, you asked, "Neteyam, would you like to help us with some braiding? We collected plenty of sea grass for ropes, and we could use the help."

He looked away from Lo'ak to you. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before shaking his head and responding, "I can't, I have something I must do for my father." You nodded in understanding, but you couldn't deny the twinge of disappointment you felt.

It seemed to you that you were seeing Neteyam less and less every day. Usually, he was always stopping by the center of the village where you spent most of your time to talk or see if you needed anything, but lately, he seemed preoccupied with something, you just weren't sure what.

He seemed to pick up on your disappointment because he offered you a small smile and said, "I will next time, I promise." You smiled back and nodded. "I will hold you to it," you told him as he started making his way across the beach again.

You watched Neteyam walk off for a moment before turning back to Lo'ak. "What did you say to him?" You asked in curiosity. Lo'ak shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he replied. "I was just making fun of him." In truth, Lo'ak felt a little guilty about what he had said to his brother, seeing in hindsight that his response to Neteyam's jokes was a bit harsh. However, he shrugged it off knowing that he was right and that his brother wouldn't hold it against him for long.

For the rest of the day, you went without seeing Neteyam until the evening meal. He and his siblings always sat with you and your friends as you ate and talked amongst yourselves. That night, your conversation focused on the exciting events of the next day.

Now that the waters had grown warm again, and now that you were finally of age, you, Aonung, and other young Metkayina clan members prepared for the final trial of Iknimaya—learning to ride a skimwing. You were eager for the challenge, and eager to prove yourself worthy of your first tattoo.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Lo'ak said skeptically. "They can't be that bad." You and your other Metkayina friends all shared an amused look. "Don't think we forgot about the first time you rode an ilu," Aonung laughed. "I can't wait to see you try to ride a skimwing next year."

Lo'ak rolled his eyes as you all laughed at him. "Very funny," he said, sounding not at all amused. "But tomorrow, I get to watch you guys make fools of yourselves." You shook your head with a grin. "I appreciate the confidence you have in us," you told him sarcastically. "I know you wouldn't want us to fail, especially not your own brother." Lo'ak smiled wryly at you. "Right," he agreed. "Especially not my brother."

Tuk perked up. "Neteyam, you get to ride the skimwings tomorrow?" She asked excitedly. Neteyam, who had been eating silently most of the night, was pulled from his thoughts at his sister's question and nodded in affirmation. "Neteyam is old enough to learn to ride a skimwing," Tsireya explained to her, "but he cannot gain a tattoo and prove himself a warrior until he has bonded with a tulkun."

Tuk looked a little disappointed for her brother and quietly uttered a sad, "Oh." Neteyam shrugged casually at her. "It's okay," he said reassuringly. "I have already completed the demands of the Iknimaya for Omatikaya. By rights, I am already a warrior."

You all paused in surprise. "I didn't know that," you said thoughtfully. "This whole time, you have been proven?" Everybody watched Neteyam as he nodded nonchalantly, apparently not realizing that his Metkayina friends had made a new discovery about him.

"So, you can choose a mate then?" Aonung asked with interest. His question made you pause your eating. You looked over at Neteyam and watched his reaction closely. "That is my right," he replied simply, keeping his eyes trained on his plate as he answered.

Aonung smirked at him. "So, has anybody caught your eye?" He questioned teasingly. "Or are our women not good enough for the son of Toruk Makto?" The boys all chuckled together, and one of them added, "Maybe he had someone back in the forest."

That comment made you look back down at your plate. Their teasing caused your stomach to twist. You had never considered the possibility that Neteyam could find a mate so soon, and you definitely hadn't thought about the fact that maybe there was someone special he had left behind, someone he would want to go back for. The idea made you feel sick, and what was worse was that you definitely should not be feeling like this.

Neteyam's silence only made you feel worse as the boys continued joking with each other. It was totally plausible that Neteyam would have someone. Aside from being the son of one of the most famed Na'vi in history, he was smart, caring, kind, and handsome. Even if he didn't already have someone, it was only a matter of time before someone caught his attention.

You were somewhat relieved when the conversation turned back to riding skimwings. You reminded yourself that there were far more important things than dwelling on Neteyam's love life, and those things were much more relevant to your future than whether or not Neteyam was searching for a mate.

That first day of skimwing training, everybody made a fool of themselves, which made it a little easier to deal with. Riding a skimwing was a lot harder than riding an ilu. They were much more sensitive to stimuli and required a lot of focus, as was proven with your first attempt at riding them.

The wind blew through your hair as you and your skimwing rose above the water, and you were reminded of the feeling of flying on Neteyam's ikran. The memory of his hand on your thigh as you turned through the air popped into your mind, and immediately, the skimwing took advantage of your momentary distraction to twist to the right and quickly dive back into the water.

Every day, however, you all became a little bit better at riding. Everyone lasted longer and had better control of their mounts than the day before, but you noticed Neteyam was still having trouble adjusting to the skimwings. After one of his many unplanned dismounts, Jake had pulled him aside and spoke quietly to him in English. "You need to get your head out of the clouds and focus," he had told him. "Don't let her become a distraction, you're better than that."

You didn't know what he was saying, but whatever it was, Jake's words definitely fueled Neteyam's determination because he stopped joking around with you during the lessons. It made them less fun, but with time, you all became more proficient at riding.

The real challenge came after nearly three weeks of rigorous training with skimwings. To prove your proficiency, bravery, and unity, you and the other initiates must successfully hunt one of the most dangerous animals in the water—the akula.

The morning of the hunt, you all rode out past the reef on your skimwings. There were a couple of adults that came along to observe the final step of your Iknimaya, but they were strictly forbidden from interfering, including Tonowari.

It took a while of searching, but Aonung was the first to spot it. It was difficult to see, but in the deep blue water, the shadow of the akula was moving slowly beneath you. You looked over at Aonung, and he signed at your group, 'I will bring it up to the rocks.' You all nodded in understanding. Even though you were all facing this challenge together, you knew that Aonung would be taking charge as a demonstration of his leadership skills.

The way divers killed akula was by luring them towards closely-set rocks like the ones nearby to prevent them from having much space to attack. Then, a few divers needed to entangle its tail in the net to keep it from swimming away. The hardest part was the killing blow. Akula were covered in hard-plated armor with few weak points, but the safest bet was to stab it with a spear right behind where its jaws unhinged to open, effectively puncturing its tough skeleton.

You watched anxiously as Aonung swam out away from the rest of you on his skimwing. Giving you all a final nod, he took a small fish from out of his saddle pack and sliced it open. The akula reacted almost instantly. It made a wide, slow circle around to face the direction of the blood. Aonung watched and waited from afar, preparing himself to take off at a moment's notice.

You glanced over to your right. Neteyam was not far off, and he seemed to notice you looking. He offered a reassuring smile before you realized that Aonung taking off towards the rocks. The akula was charging toward the scent of blood in the water, prompting you and the rest of the initiates to spring into action.

You followed after the large predator with a net in hand. Aonung had circled around to face the akula as he came near the scattered rocks that rose all the way up to the surface of the water. The akula continued swimming after him, heedless of the large jutting stones. Aonung weaved around them with speed and precision, outmaneuvering the beast.

You managed to catch up to them first, and you cast your net over the rapidly moving fin that propelled the akula forward. You pulled hard, causing the animal to falter in its chase. Its body was too stocky to reach around to attack you, and soon enough, others joined in with their nets and began pulling as well.

It began thrashing viciously and snapped its jaws with wild desperation. Aonung took the opportunity now that it was fairly immobilized to run his spear through the weak point behind the jaws. The creature recoiled violently, but it still moved weakly. On the other side, you watched Neteyam bring his own spear up and stab it through the weak point on the other side of its head.

This time, the creature gave a weak shudder before going limp. Your relief was overwhelming, as was your excitement. With this hunt being a success, you had now completed your Iknimaya. You were now fully Metkayina, and you had earned your tattoo.

You and the others who had their nets on the akula pulled it up toward the surface. When you all broke above the water, you immediately began laughing together in excitement. You saw Aonung and Neteyam side-by-side with matching smiles as they clasped each other's arms in celebration.

Tonowari came up to the surface with a proud grin on his face. "You have done well," he called out to you all. "I am very proud of you all.”

The village greeted you all eagerly as your skimwings hauled the akula back to the reef. People immediately worked to bring in its body to be prepared for use as both food and tools. Ronal was there as well, and she smiled at you all proudly. "You have now earned your first tattoo," she told your group. "Come with me."

Aonung went first. You all waited eagerly outside of Ronal's tent, and the three younger Sully siblings and Tsireya joined you to hear about your hunt. You recounted how the akula chased after Aonung through the rocks and how it required both him and Neteyam together to be killed.

It felt like no time at all had passed before Aonung stepped out again. You all gasped in amazement at the tattoo cresting his brow bone. It was similar in design and placement to Ronal's own forehead tattoo, and it symbolized strong leadership and wisdom. Ronal watched as you and your friends showered her son with compliments before holding out a hand to beckon you in.

Tsireya gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled as you stepped up to follow her mother. Inside, you lay down on the cot in front of Ronal. By her side, there was a large bowl of black ink and several long sticks with varying tips attached to the ends. She brushed your hair away from your shoulders and began cleaning your chest with fresh water.

"You have spent countless days here in the village learning your duties and upholding your responsibilities," she explained. "And so, you will bear the crest of the steadfast and strong-hearted." She patted your skin dry and moved her supplies closer to you. "Our island is the heart of the clan," she continued as she picked up her tools. "And one day, you too shall be the heart of the People."

You listened to her speak without interrupting. Her words inspired a mix of emotions within you. You were honored by the profound meaning she had chosen for your tattoo, but at the same time, you were reminded again of your obligation to Aonung. Every day, you felt more and more apprehensive of the day that Tonowari and Ronal stepped down from their duties and passed them onto you, and the anxiety you felt only incited feelings of guilt.

Ronal began tapping her tools into the skin above your heart. The sharp tip stung as it broke your skin, but you stayed still as she worked carefully for what felt like hours. You didn't move except when she took the occasional break to sit up from her stooped pose over your body.

When she finished, she sat up to admire her work, a genuine smile growing on her face. "We are finished," she said, offering you her hand to help you sit up slowly. You looked down and could see part of the intricate pattern etched into your raised skin. Smiling brightly, you turned your eyes up to Ronal's face and breathed, "Thank you." She placed a hand on your shoulder, still smiling, and told you, "I am very proud of you."

Your chest swelled at her words. Ronal rarely gave compliments, so when she did, you knew she was being genuine. You worked so diligently trying to live up to her expectations, and hearing her praise made you beam with pride. Gaining your first tattoo was a momentous occasion, and the significance of that accomplishment made your hard work worth it. Seeing Ronal's smiling face made you eager to further prove yourself to her. How could you ever think of letting her down?

You stepped out of Ronal's tent with a new sense of achievement. Waiting to greet you outside, Aonung, Roxto, Tsireya, Kiri, and Lo'ak all stood up as you walked out. Their eyes all fell on the fresh tattoo on the side of your chest.

"It looks amazing!" Tsireya gushed as she grabbed your hand in excitement. You beamed at her, and everyone gathered close to inspect the details of your tattoo. They all offered their congratulations, and happiness washed over you with their praise.

Glancing around, you found that there was one face missing from the group. "Where is Neteyam?" you asked, trying to sound casual. Everybody else seemed to notice for the first time that the oldest Sully was not there. "I'm sure he's just resting," Kiri offered. You nodded in response. You also felt tired from the day's excursion, but you couldn't deny that you were hit with a pang of disappointment that Neteyam wasn't there to see your tattoo with all of your friends.

After receiving your tattoos, you and your friends headed back to your homes in order to prepare for the celebration being held in your honor. The akula that you had killed was harvested for its meat which would be served for everyone to enjoy that night. You busied yourself preparing for the festivities when you heard a voice near the entrance of your home.

"May I come in?" Aonung asked politely. You turned to face him in surprise. In nearly two years of being betrothed, the two of you had rarely spent time alone together, and he almost never made a point to come calling for you. "Of course," you replied, trying not to seem as awkward as you felt.

He stepped in carefully, feeling somewhat out of place in your home. "I wanted to congratulate you on the hunt today," he began. "You showed great skill and bravery in the water."

You were taken aback by his kind words. Never before had he offered such praise, but he seemed genuine in his words and tone. "Thank you," you said with a smile. "And you have proven yourself to be a capable and mighty leader."

He smiled back at you before releasing a small sigh. "I know this..." he gestured between himself and you, "...has been strange for us." You looked down and chuckled lightly, relieved to know he felt the same way about your arrangement.

"But I do not want it to be that way anymore," he continued, holding out his hand. You looked up and couldn't help but gasp softly. Dangling from his fingers was a necklace with several shells and beads intricately braided into the cord. At the bottom hung a large, gleaming tooth.

"It is beautiful," you breathed in amazement. You reached out and held the necklace up to admire. The bands of colorful red and yellow shells alternated in a beautiful pattern that demonstrated dedicated craftsmanship. "Is this the tooth of an akula?" you asked. Aonung smiled at you. "The same one we killed today," he told you proudly.

You looked up at him in surprise. "You just made this today?" you asked incredulously. He gave you an amused look before admitting, "No. I have worked on it for some time now, but I thought the tooth would be an appropriate addition." Looking back at the necklace, you understood what he meant. In Metkayina culture, the akula were a symbol of power, and wearing the teeth of one was a way to demonstrate one's own status.

Taking it back from your hand, Aonung politely asked, "May I?"

You nodded wordlessly and turned around, moving your hair off of your shoulders so that he could tie the necklace around your neck. The tooth felt heavy as it rested against your chest, an appropriate metaphor for the burden you bore as tsakarem.

After he had securely clasped it around your neck, you turned back around to face him. He had a faint smile on his lips as he admired his craftsmanship resting next to your new tattoo. "It looks good on you," he complimented sincerely.

You brought a hand up to feel the beads and shells laying on your skin. "Thank you," you said with a genuine smile. He nodded at you and then looked back outside a little awkwardly. With nothing further to say, he told you, "I will see you at the celebration." You nodded back at him and watched him go.

Feeling the tooth with your hands, you mentally reprimanded yourself. This was right. This was what you should look forward to, but deep down, you found yourself wishing that it had been Neteyam who had given it to you. You wanted it to have been him even though you could still feel the sting of his absence outside of Ronal's tent. You wish you could understand what was going on with him, or better yet, you wished you could stop caring so much. It would make everything so much easier.

In a stroke of cruel irony, your attention was captured by Neteyam's figure not far from outside your tent. He crossed paths with Aonung as he was leaving, and though you couldn't hear what they were saying, you could tell from their body language that Neteyam was congratulating him on his new tattoo and status.

Your heartbeat quickened as you watched Neteyam turn away from Aonung and head over to your home. You immediately busied yourself by pretending to move things around when he approached. "Are you busy?" he asked softly as he stood by the entrance. You looked up at him and feigned surprise. "No," you responded a little too quickly. "I am just preparing for the celebration tonight."

He walked in slowly, and you could see that his eyes fell on the tattoo on your chest. "It looks beautiful," he told you earnestly, and you beamed at him. "It is going to take some time for me to get used to it," you admitted with a laugh. He nodded with an understanding smile. "I imagine so," he said before his smiling face turned into a more apologetical look.

"I am sorry I wasn't there to see you afterward," he said softly, raising his eyes from your tattoo to meet yours. You stared up at him for a heartbeat before smiling gently. "It is fine," you assured him. "You deserved to rest after all you did today."

Neteyam shook his head with a sigh. "It was not that," he explained. "My father, he has been asking a lot of me lately. I was with him after the hunt." You nodded your head with a small, "Ah." You had noticed Neteyam constantly mentioned his father lately, either running errands for him or working with him in the village, so his explanation was not so surprising to you.

"You are coming to the celebration, yes?" you asked hopefully. You didn't want his father to keep him so busy that he would miss out on the festivities of the night. Neteyam's warm smile returned as he looked down at you. "I wouldn't miss it," he assured you.

You smiled in relief. "You better not," you told him playfully. "You wouldn't want to miss Lo'ak dancing." He chuckled at the memory of his brother's awkward dancing the month prior at the celebration of the tulkun. "I definitely do not want to miss that," he agreed.

His eyes fell down to the new accessory you wore around your neck. Taking a step forward, he reached up to gently lift the akula tooth off of your skin. "Is this new?" he asked curiously, inspecting the necklace with interest.

"It is," you confirmed, looking up at his face that was now so close to yours before adding, "Aonung made it for me." Neteyam seemed to freeze at your words, and in his face, there was something like disappointment. He let the tooth gently fall back against your chest, his fingers barely brushing against your skin. "It suits you," he said finally, bringing his eyes back up to yours and offering a faint smile.

You stared up at him silently for a moment. He hadn't been this close to you since you had danced together, and you found that words didn't come so easily when his lips were so close to yours. With effort, you managed to pull yourself out of your thoughts to reply quietly, "Thank you."

He took a step backward, helping you ground yourself back to reality. "I will see you tonight," he promised. You took a breath and nodded at him. "Tonight," you repeated and watched him walk away.

He kept his word to you. You and the other newly initiated warriors were all gathered together to sit with Tonowari and Ronal as a sign of honor for your new achievement, but through the crowd of Metkayina, you caught a glimpse of the forest boy sitting with his family. As the feast began, Tonowari announced you each by name in recognition of being newly anointed members of the clan. Everyone present cheered for you all, and soon after, there was dancing.

Of course, you danced as much as you could. The joy of completing the final, crucial step as a Metkayina member made you feel energized throughout the night. You only took a few short breaks to eat and drink so that you could continue dancing.

During one such break, you wandered over to where Neteyam was sitting by himself not far from his family. You held out your hands to him, and he immediately took them both with a smile. "This is a celebration," you told him with a laugh. "You are supposed to be celebrating!" He looked up at you warmly, but he didn't budge from his sitting position.

"I do not think I will dance tonight," he admitted. You scoffed at him playfully and tugged at his hands. "Nonsense," you replied. "You must." He seemed to deliberate for just a moment before his eyes looked past you to something behind you, and he dropped his hands from yours with a shake of his head.

"I think he would make a better dance partner for you," he said, nodding over to where Aonung was standing to your right. You felt another sting of guilt. Of course, you should be wanting to dance with Aonung instead. That was how it should be.

You gave Neteyam a disappointed smile. "You are no fun," you told him. He shrugged apologetically, his lips pulling into a faint smirk. "So I have been told," he retorted as you stepped away from him.

You rolled your eyes at his words. For a moment, you thought he was going to agree to your request, but something made him change his mind. As you walked over to Aonung, you turned your head to see what it was that Neteyam noticed behind you. Across from Neteyam, Jake was sitting with a plate full of food and a watchful eye. It was strange that Jake would cause Neteyam to reclude from your invitation to dance, but you didn't dwell on it for long.

Aonung had been speaking with a friend when he noticed your approach, and he greeted you with a smile. Without saying a word, you held your hands out to him. He took them and immediately understood your silent request, and he led you to where the others were lining up with the music.

Just as he had done the month before, Neteyam watched you dance with Aonung. In his heart, he sorely regretted not taking your offer, but after the last time, his father had pulled him aside the day after the celebration of the tulkun back at their home and warned him to stay away from you. Now, Neteyam felt his father's ever-present gaze on him every time he interacted with you.

He knew his father was right, and so he did his best to listen to him. Still, watching you dance with Aonung made his chest burn, and after watching you for a minute, he stood up and walked over to his parents. "I am growing weary," he said mutely. "I am going to bed." Jake and Neytiri shot each other a knowing look before Jake replied, "Alright. Goodnight, son."

Soon after you had finished your dance with Aonung, you realized Neteyam was nowhere to be found. It seemed you were becoming better acquainted with disappointment because you knew that you wouldn't be seeing him again for the rest of the night, so you quickly distracted yourself by clinging to Tsireya for the rest of the celebration. Still, you managed to enjoy the rest of the night despite Neteyam's early departure.

The next day, life resumed as normal. You got up early and helped with the morning catch to bring in for the first meal. You helped prepare the food for everyone before the rest of the clan came out to eat together.

Your friends all came out to eat with you. Lo'ak plopped down next to Tsireya and immediately started chatting away with her. Behind him, Kiri and Tuk came up to where you were all sitting together. You noticed Neteyam was missing immediately, but you managed to refrain from asking. He seemed to be making a habit of unexplained absences.

You saw him later on in the day when you were gathering palm branches for basket weaving. He was nearby helping his mother collect the newly ripened fruit from a grove of trees. You greeted them both cheerfully and said to Neteyam, "I didn't see you leave last night."

He looked away as he reached up to grab a piece of fruit. "I did not want to interrupt your fun," he explained casually. You watched as he pulled it down and placed it in the basket at his feet. "I see," you muttered quietly before adding in a more lighthearted tone, "You could have been having fun too if you would have danced."

He shot you a faint smile. "If you say so," he responded as he continued working. You stood for a moment, wanting to say more but not knowing what to say. With a quiet sigh, you told him, "I suppose I will see you later." He nodded without looking at you, remaining intently focused on finding the next fruit to pick.

You walked away feeling a little hurt. Neteyam's behavior toward you seemed to grow increasingly distant and unresponsive. You used to feel so close to him, but now, it was like there was a disconnect between you, and you didn't know why.

It only grew worse as the days passed on. You noticed he spent less and less time eating with your group, some days opting to eat with his parents instead. He never came around to where you stayed in the village anymore, and if you happened across each other, his conversations were polite but short.

Nearly two weeks after gaining your tattoo, you were walking up the beach and into the foliage surrounding the mangroves to search for a specific root Ronal was running low on. You looked out at the rain falling in large drops across the water. It was unusually warm weather for rain, and since there was no storming, you didn't mind walking in it to forage. Under the cover of the trees, the steady rhythm of the rain became scattered dripping overhead. You hummed to yourself as you stepped across the ground through the shrubs.

You noticed the signature leaves of the sand root you were searching for poking out behind one of the trees. Walking around it, you knelt down to collect them, but you were startled by a figure nearby.

Through the dripping leaves around you, Neteyam was sitting not far off under a large palm branch that halfway shielded him from the rain. In his hands, he was braiding a band of sea grass together with several small shells and stones woven throughout. He seemed lost in thought as his fingers moved the fibers effortlessly, remaining unfazed by the falling water around him.

You watched for a moment and felt the longing in your chest that you had been trying to ignore. You thought about turning back, but the truth was that you missed him, and you just wanted a chance to talk. You made yourself known by standing up, and he glanced up at you, a look of surprise crossing his face as he was pulled from his thoughts by your presence. You stepped over towards him, trying to walk beneath the protective branches around you to avoid the rain.

"Do you often sit in the pouring rain?" You asked with a grin as you came up next to him. A weak smile tugged at his lips as he looked up at you. "I was here before the rain started," he explained. "But I do enjoy it. It reminds me of the forest. We would often get warm rains like this."

You nodded in understanding. Gesturing to the space next to him, you asked, "May I sit?" He looked up at you for a moment, contemplating, before nodding silently and continuing his quick braiding. You crossed your legs and sat down beside him.

"What are you working on?" You asked after a brief silence. Without looking up at you, he said, "It is for Tuk. She collected these shells, so I'm making it into an armband for her." You smiled softly at him. "That is very sweet of you," you told him. Neteyam stayed focused on his work, but after a moment, he said, "Braiding helps me think. It clears my mind."

You studied his face, and in the silence that followed his words, you felt that strange disconnect again.

"And what is on your mind?" You asked quietly. He didn't say anything for a moment, and you thought that maybe he hadn't heard you. Then, he murmured under his breath, "Many things." The rain pattered around you as you sat next to him in silence.

"You know," you carried on, trying to keep the conversation going, "when I need to clear my mind, I have a secret place I like to go to." That seemed to catch his interest because he slowed down his braiding and looked over at you in curiosity. With a small smile, you continued, "Do you know where the water runs over the edge of the rocks on the north side of the sea wall?"

Neteyam seemed to search back in his memory for a bit before nodding slowly. "I think so," he replied. "Like a little waterfall?" You nodded at his answer. "Well, if you swim down underneath where the water falls, there is a little tunnel in the rocks," you explained. "And the tunnel leads to a cave. Nobody seems to know about it, so it's like my own secret hideaway." With a soft smile, you bumped your shoulder against his gently. "But it can be yours too if you'd like."

The corners of his mouth turned upwards at your offer. "Thank you," he said sincerely before adding dryly, "I need a good hiding spot from my father." You chuckled at him before tilting your head in curiosity. "Is that what's been bothering you?" You asked carefully.

Your question made his faint smile melt away entirely. His focus returned to the armband he was braiding, and he muttered quietly, "I don't know what you mean." You couldn't help but give a small, disappointed sigh. "Neteyam—," you began, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, making you hesitate.

"Please," he said, eyes still closed. "You don't have to concern yourself with me." You watched him in distressed silence. Whatever was going on with him clearly agitated him, but you didn't want to make it worse by prying. "You're my friend," you told him quietly. "What concerns you concerns me."

He sighed again, and his eyes opened to look at you with sadness and exhaustion. You turned your body to face him better, placing a worried hand on the crook of his arm. "What is the matter?" You asked imploringly.

His eyes fell on where your hand was resting on his arm, and you could see in the dim light how his jaw tensed. He looked back to his own hands that were still holding the unfinished armband and shook his head slowly. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at your face.

"Nothing," he said. "I am fine."

You didn't believe him, not even for a second, but he was making it clear that he wasn't going to disclose to you whatever was upsetting him. He continued his braiding quickly, and in the few silent seconds between you, he finished it and tied it off.

"It's getting late," he stated, looking at the dim sky through the leaves above. "I need to get back to my family." He stood up quickly, and with a quick nod to you, he muttered, "Good night," before leaving you sitting on the ground.

"Wait," you called out, pushing yourself up from the ground to follow after him. Neteyam began walking away quickly, but you grabbed his hand. "Neteyam, wait," you said softly. He stopped moving as you held onto him, the warm rain splattering down on you both, and even though he could have easily pulled away from your grip, he stayed.

He turned back slowly to face you, still holding onto your hand. "Please," he murmured, closing his eyes in an almost pained expression. "Don't do this." You blinked up at him, perplexed. "I just want to understand," you told him pleadingly. "Did I do something to upset you?"

His head tilted in agitation at your question, and he opened his eyes to gaze down at you sadly. "You did nothing," Neteyam insisted gently. "I just need to be alone right now, that's all." He began pulling away from you, but you tightened your grip on his hand.

"I don't believe you," you told him, your voice growing more urgent. "For weeks now, you have been pulling away, avoiding me, and I don't understand why." He looked away from you uncomfortably. "I did not mean...," he paused, trying to think of how best to explain himself.

"Did you think I would not notice?" You interjected, feeling your hurt and confusion from the past few weeks begin to bubble up in your chest. "Do you think I don't see you leave every time I come by? Or how you barely speak three words to me all day?"

Closing his eyes, Neteyam winced at your accusatory questions and whispered your name pleadingly. You squeezed his hand and stepped a little closer to him so that you were gazing straight up at his face. Sighing, he opened his eyes just enough to look down at you with half-opened lids.

In the dim light, his amber eyes almost seemed to glow. Water was streaming down his face from the continuous rain, gathering at his lashes before falling to the ground. He looked beautiful— his body strong and his face gentle. It made your chest ache.

"Please, tell me what is wrong," you begged softly. "What did I do to upset you like this?" His face twisted in something like anguish, and he shook his head again. "You did nothing," he repeated. "It is me, I—," Neteyam paused, seeming to grow more agitated.

"I cannot be around you anymore," he said finally.

You blinked in surprise. "What?" was all you were able to say in return. He looked down at you sadly and shook his head softly. "I can't," he repeated. "I am sorry."

Your face contorted in confusion. "I don't understand," you said quietly. "What are you saying?" Neteyam looked away from you uncomfortably. "It was never my intention to hurt you," he murmured. "I just...," he trailed off again, unsure of what to say. He pulled his hand away from you and took a step back. "I'm sorry," was all he said.

You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. Then, you felt a surge of determination rise up in you. Maybe if it had been any other person saying this to you, you would have let them go—it would have still hurt, but you wouldn't fight it—but not Neteyam. He was the one person who you felt understood everything, the one you looked forward to seeing most in the day. He wasn't going to get off so easily.

"No," you said resolutely. "No, you cannot expect me to just accept that, Neteyam. I won't accept it." He shook his head slowly. "Please, let it go," he whispered, begged. You scoffed, growing frustrated with his behavior. "No," you repeated, growing more heated. "I won't let it go. Not until you explain to me why you can't—,"

"I'm in love with you."

Silence.

You couldn't say anything. His words knocked the breath out of you. You stared up at him in complete shock, unable to utter a single word. Neteyam looked away from your stunned face in shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered regretfully. "But that is the truth."

You blinked and looked away, trying to regain your composure in order to reply. "Neteyam," you began, "I—,"

"I know," he interrupted gently, drawing away from you. "You are spoken for," he continued. "It was never my intention to interfere with that."

You were at a loss for words. You felt a strong mix of emotions in your chest—happiness, guilt, confusion. You had scarcely allowed yourself to imagine that he could reciprocate what you felt for him, and now, here, in the warm rain, he had given you more than you could have hoped for. But now, you felt the weight of Aonung's necklace and the promises it represented more distinctly than ever.

He must have seen the torrent of thoughts on your face. "And now you see," Neteyam said regretfully. "I am very sorry." As he moved to walk away, you grabbed his hand again. "Don't go," you pleaded. "I'm not upset, I just...," you thought desperately for the right thing to say.

"I have a duty to my people," you said finally. "Part of that is to be with Aonung one day." Neteyam averted his gaze and nodded solemnly. You took a shaky breath as you continued. "But being with him was never by my design. It was easy for me to accept before, but now, I find myself dreading it more and more."

His eyes flicked back up to look at you, his forehead scrunched slightly as he did. "You don't love him," he observed quietly, and you shook your head. "How could I?" You asked. "Not when I...," you couldn't finish saying it. Telling him how you felt was never something you had planned to do. Your heart was pounding furiously, and all you could do was stare up at him with longing and squeeze his hand.

He caught your meaning, and his face changed from sadness to hope and then to pain all within the span of seconds. "Don't," he pleaded quietly, pulling away from you. You blinked in surprise. "What?" You questioned as he stepped back.

"Don't," he repeated more urgently. "Don't tell me that. You are tsakarem. You are meant to be with someone else." Your jaw clenched at his words, feeling the guilt creep over you. "You think I don't know that?" You asked him in a strained voice. "Every day, I am reminded of it. It weighs on me constantly, and I don't want it. I never have."

He looked down at you sympathetically. "A heavy burden," he muttered in a low voice. You couldn't help but give a defeated sigh. "I don't want to be tsakarem. I don't want to be with Aonung," you told him quietly, looking back up at him.

"I want to be with you," your words were barely above a whisper, but Neteyam heard them clearly. Neither of you moved. You blinked up at him as the rain fell on your face. Finally, he took a slow step towards you and held up a hand to cradle the side of your face.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. Instead, however, he just stared at you with a look of longing before he finally closed his eyes in determination.

"No," he whispered finally. "We can't."

You felt your throat tighten and your heart twist at his words. You knew he was right. You couldn't. It wasn't right, and you would bring shame to your family as well as his. That didn't make it any easier to hear.

You couldn't say anything nor could Neteyam. There was only the sound of the rain around you as he dropped his hand from your face and walked back towards the beach, and as he did, the raindrops on your face was indistinguishable from your tears.

Chapter 4

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Taglist: @mashiromochi @eywas-heir @kafanizdakicokiyi @plzfeedmebread @afro-hispwriter @fanboyluvr @anm3mi @sadexact @peachinsomniac (idk why its not linking your blog :/)

ANGST DAY ANGST DAY ANGST DAY

Cough herosteve pining words under the cut

-

Uh trigger warning for self harm, angst, etc. Bad stuff. Beware. Also forgive me I literally wrote this off the top of my head

"Why do you scratch your wrists?"

The softly spoken sentence was not a true question. As the asker felt like they knew the answer already. But wanted to hear the answer out loud.

The rain was the loudest thing besides the silence in the dark room. It hit hard against Steve's wooden roof.

The dead of night. Another summer storm. He had begun to dread them. It seemed like night after night they kept on happening. With no end in sight.

It wasn't the sleep he was loosing that he lamented. No. It was Herobrine. Who wore a dent into his rug as he paced back and forth in front of the window. Flinching at every flash that lit up the room.

Steve never lit any candles. The demon's bright eyes were better than any flame at lighting up the room. Especially at this hour.

Herobrine flinched at the question. As he always did with the miner spoke to him.

It was the only thing Steve had said tonight. When he heard the thunder roaring in the distance and dragged his lethargic body to the living room couch. To wait for the horrible ritual to begin.

Herobrine tensed and then let out a breath. Continually scratching at his arms. He wet his lips as sparks flew from his finger tips.

"Chains." Were his final response. He turned his head towards the window. A long scratch at his arms. Steve caught the faint glow of blood mixed with his healing powers. "My brother... held me down with chains when we fought. He-"

He broke off to pace again. His voice was taught. Harsh. Steve leaned forward, not expecting this much of a response.

"H-he would use the chains to hold me down." Herobrine shook his head. "To signify that the fight was over. I was powerless. It usually was when he grew bored of the fight. Because everything I did-"

The words grew more desperate. Louder and scared. He haunched over. Hands on his head. Steve was about to tell him to stop when he spoke again.

"I could never beat him. And we both knew that. I tried my best but it was never enough! Nothing I ever did was ever enough for HIM! I just wanted to do well! I just, I just-"

He sighed a full body tremble and lowered his hands to look at his wrists.

"I just wanted to do something right by him. The chains signified to me that I had not performed well enough. And it was time to send me back to the nether so I could try again. Bashing in my head with that fucking hammer. Waking up alone. A failure."

Steve was frozen. Needing to hear all of this. Rationalizing it as healthy. Maybe to get it off his chest. But he was mostly just curious.

"I scratch my wrists." Herobrine continued. "Because they hurt. They itch with power. Power that I can't control. They itch when I feel. When I feel anxious or a failure or- I don't fucking know." He spat. "They just hurt. And I can feel his chains. I can feel his magic."

He pinched his temple. "And sometimes I can still feel the hammer."

A loud clap of thunder had them both jumping. It rolled across the plains like a train. Slowly disappearing into the world.

Herobrine shook. Holding himself in his arms. Licking his lips. Anxious and scared and hurt.

An idea popped into Steve's mind. He quickly got up from the couch, gently apologizing when Herobrine jumped back. And went to the kitchen. He grabbed a towel and turned his water tap on as hot as it would go. He then places the towel under it when the temperature was adequate.

He went over to Herobrine and held out the towel. The demon didn't move as Steve drapped it over his wrist.

"Warm towel." Steve spoke gently. "Makes my shoulder feel better after a hard day mining. Doc recommended it for my old wound. Maybe...it can help you?"

Herobrine stared at the towel. Allowing a small smile. "This is hardly warm."

"Listen, it's warm for me!" Steve laughed. Herobrine did as well.

"Thank you." The demon breathed. Placing a hand on the towel. "You... it does help."

tell me

(skate rat) miyas x fem!reader | w.c 1.6k

a/n: ok look i’m no brother fucker on main, but the lewding potential post-show me was too delicious, and if i’m not an opportunistic whore... so here it is the pt 2 y’all keep screaming about that i actually started writing no more than two hrs after posting show me bc i have no self control

another big thankies to @sugardaddykenma for giving this a read over big fat wet besitos for u

18+ university | please read ALL warnings

warnings: INCEST full on (i’m sorry god), dubcon/noncon elements, fingering, overstimulation, dumbification (lowkey), degradation, manipulation, a dash of gaslighting, a bit of humiliation, virginity loss (mentioned), crybaby!reader, little bit of mind break, reader is tired + slurs words a bit

just...them taking advantage of dumb reader

read show me first! (not necessary but appreciated + it would make more sense to do so) NOW with the third part make me!!

One hour, twenty-six minutes and who knows how many seconds have gone by since your brothers have decided to go into an entire good cop, bad cop tirade.

Their words barely making a dent in your mind as a soreness settles in your bones, the added discomfort of a mixture of sweat, saliva and cum drying on your skin with the debauched feeling of Kita’s cum dripping from your sore cunt keeping your mind thoroughly distracted.

“You’re never gonna see him again.” Atsumu-nii barks out.

“It’s better that way.” Osamu-nii adds gently.

“In fact he’s dead next time we see him.”

“Yeah, very much dead.”

“We told him to stay away from you, fuck.” Atsumu flops down beside you, Osamu follows sitting on your other side.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” You mumble, regretting your words the second you see the look in your brothers’ eyes.

“Not that big a deal?” Atsumu’s voice is no more than a low growl as he rises, eyes narrowing at the statement. “Kita’s a fucking bastard and you just let him between your legs like it was nothing. Are you stupid?”

Your eyes widen at the accusation as you scoot away from him, drawing your knees to your chest, letting your eyes fall to the rumpled blankets surrounding you.

“You let him cum inside you?” A gasp falls from your lips, embarrassment scorches through you as you realize the way your bare cunt is exposed by the way you’re sitting. You immediately shoot back, slamming into Osamu as you squeeze your legs shut, dread filling your lungs as Atsumu crawls forward.

“Our little sister really is dumb. Is that what you’ve been up to while you’re away?” He’s always been faster than you, proven by how his fingers are already around your wrist, yanking you towards him. You know that struggling is a moot point, he’s bigger and faster and so much stronger. But you can’t help but wiggle around, barely able to make him budge even a centimeter.

“No! That was my first...” you bite your tongue as Atsumu crosses his legs and seats you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he snakes an arm around your waist. He rests his chin atop your head, a thoughtful hum vibrating in his chest against you.

“Hear that Samu?” Atsumu squeezes you tightly as your eyes frantically dart around Osamu’s features, silently begging for him to free you from this situation.

“Yeah Tsumu, she really gave up her virginity to Kita.”

“Like an idiot.” They muse in unison.

“I- but-”

“But nothing. Now your nii-chan’s need to clean you up. Stupid little girl.” He mutters against your hair, smoothing his hands over your thighs, spreading them apart more and more. Stretching them until they’re caught by his knees, rendering you helplessly exposed.

“Umm.” Your legs twitch, the position all too embarrassing, the powerlessness of it parallel to when you were being held by Kita. Taboo, the position screams.

“It’s okay, dumb girls like you make mistakes all the time,” Osamu smiles gently, shifting over to lift the hem of your shirt, handing it to Atsumu keeping it pinned just above your belly button, “that’s why you have us.”

Confusion swirls as you watch your older brother's fingers disappear into his mouth, eyes watching as his tongue flicks over the digits, retracting them slowly.

“Ah! Wait!” You yelp out as he pushes his index and middle fingers past your puffy hole, a stinging pleasure making the taut muscles of your thighs twitch. Atsumu lets out another low laugh, steadying your legs, forcing you to keep still as Osamu continues to prod further. The blunt ends of his fingers pressing and dragging against the sore gummy walls.

“Too much, too much.” You gasp as Osamu’s fingers dig further into your cunt, shaking as you feel the tips of fingers brush against your cervix. Fat tears begin to roll down your face as you press harder back into Atsumu, as if you could find escape in the rigid planes of his body.

His fingers continue to twist and scour, the sensation is all too overwhelming, making your throat tighten as you make futile attempts at clamping your legs shut, only making Atsumu snicker above you. You watch with panting breaths as Osamu finally draws out his fingers, covered in the milky white slick, evidence of the sins you committed just a few hours before.

“What a sloppy cunt, you really let him make a whore of you huh?” Atsumu bites, the words cut into you, the betrayal in his voice making your throat tighten further. You can only manage to choke out a broken sob of a denial as Osamu brings his fingers against your lips.

“Say ‘ah’.” You shake your head frantically, face quickly being caught in Osamu’s other hand.

“Don’t be difficult, we’re helping you.” Disappointment, the disappointment crumbles what little fighting spirit you had in the first place, you can’t stop the tears from falling as you let Osamu slip slicked fingers into your mouth. Lazily you swirl your tongue around them, exhaustion starting to sweep over you.

“All good?” Atsumu asks as Osamu pulls his digits from your mouth, smiling proudly at you.

“Let me make sure.” He lowers himself more onto the bed, bringing him face to face to your dripping cunny, he plants a hand against the taut muscle of your thigh, staring so intently at your twitching hole. “So fuckin messy.” It’s the closest to warning you get as he pushes his fingers back in, the yelp you let out sounding pitiful even to you.

“We shouldn’t, d-do this.” You grip at Osamu’s arm, but it’s as if each tug you make has no effect. There isn’t a purpose to his motions, his fingers pumping in and out of you with reckless abandon, the wet, lewd sounds filling the room.

“‘M just helping you.” Osamu breathes out, hot breath fanning over your sensitive cunt. With each push of his fingers you feel as though your whole body has been thrown under an unwavering waterfall, every stroke of his fingers feeling like the ruthless waters beating down on you.

“Yeah, you’re the idiot who went and fucked Kita Shinsuke of all people.” Atsumu chides, running a hand across your belly, lips tickling the shell of your ear. He pulls one of your hands off of Osamu, intertwining your fingers, securing your hand against your heaving chest.

“M’Not an idiot.” Your panting whines swirling with the soft wet clicking made by his digits in your cunt punctuating your shame, your words weakly slurred together. “Samu-nii n-n’more.”

“Hm? What was that?” He teases his ring finger against your entrance, viciously scissoring his index and middle, making your body stiffen, the pain of overstimulation surging violently chased with flecks of pleasure.

“Pretty sure she said more Samu.” Atsumu goads, slipping his other hand underneath your shirt to massage your tender breasts, the endless waves of exhaustion leaving you unable to deny yourself melting in his hold.

“More it is.” Without the slightest of stutters in his motions he stuffs in his ring finger, forcing your back to arch at the sting, the throbbing of your cunny is gut wrenching but the delicious curl of Osamu’s fingers is undeniable.

“Shlow down.” Your tongue feels thick in your mouth, head lolling back, knocking into Atsumu’s chin as you stare down with blurry vision at Osamu’s fingers disappearing into your wet heat.

“Think our little dummy means speed up, right sis? You wouldn’t want Samu to miss any leftover cum from your little slut stunt.”

“I-I don’t?” You mumble, trying to crane your head to meet Atsumu’s gaze, the disconnect of his words is disorienting as you continue to slip into worn out haze.

“Of course not, that’s what we’ve been telling you.” He releases your hand in favor of sliding his hand up to grip at your jaw, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Hey Samu I think you can fit a fourth.”

“Yeah, me too.” Atsumu presses your head against his, leaving the two of you cheek to cheek as your eyes widen at the sight of your brother’s pinky swiping besides your entrance.

“Won’t fit.”

“It will.” Osamu looks up at you, the familiar lazy half smile almost comforting as he begins to work his fourth finger into your thoroughly abused cunt. A jolt of biting pain mottled with bliss erupts through you. The feeling of being utterly stuffed, pushed past whatever limits you had, leaving you unable to even focus your eyes or make sense of whatever Atsumu whispers against you.

The entirety of your body feels like an exposed nerve, as if you’ve been left out in the sun too long, simultaneously hyper aware and numb of all the little touches and strokes across your flesh. You can feel Osamu steadily pick up the pace with each thrust of his fingers, each stroke as if he’s trying to dig deeper, as if he’s trying to make your cunny memorize the shape of each finger.

“Tsu-tsumu-niii, I thiiink…” Whatever comment you had is lost in your throat, the tiniest caress of Osamu’s thumb against your clit has your mind going blank, the entirety of your body coiling tightly, a mangled whine preempting the feeling of yourself gushing around Osamu’s fingers. Your body spasms, held tightly in Atsumu’s arms as you squeal out at Osamu unwilling to relent his movements, continuing to piston his fingers with reckless abandon.

“Enough, Ssamu enough.” Your vision goes spotty, watching with jagged breaths as he gradually withdraws. You spiral into unconsciousness one last shiver wracking through you as you watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, licking a stripe up his coated fingers. A dastardly grin the last thing you see as you black out.

Jude and Cardan headcanons, taking place during and after Jude’s abduction part 3

•As much as Cardan wanted to think that Jude was completely recovered from her time in the Undersea, it was becoming more and more obvious that she was not. Cardan could see her hands shaking in a way they never did before; he saw her practice with her sword and her knives as she usually did but saw that her movements were slower than usual, like they caused her pain. When she watched herself in the mirror, the way she looked at herself mirrored the way she used to look at him in their earlier days as enemies- with loathing, and anger and challenge evident in her eyes.

•Jude could not stop overworking herself- she felt like she had to catch up with everything that she missed while she was away and worked until very late. Cardan started spending more and more time in her company, at first there just so she wouldn’t be alone and eventually, actually helping with all the work. Sometimes, when she fell asleep with her head on her desk, Cardan would gently wake her up so she could move to the bed. He didn’t miss how in the first second of being awake and looking at him, she always flinched, moved away from him, as if he were someone else.

•Cardan was desperate to ask Jude what happened to her, but he was also aware than Jude was not really the type to be vulnerable, especially not with him. So he didn’t ask, and he pretended he didn’t notice the changes in her.

•One night, when he was laying on her couch and she was sitting at her desk, he couldn’t bare not knowing anymore. She was going on and on about some political issue that needed to be urgently solved but his mind could not focus on anything else other than how she seemed to forget who he was sometimes, how her expression changed when he looked at him, how her eyes went glossy and unfocused, looking as if she was glamoured- it was only a couple of seconds and then she was back to being Jude, but it was enough to plant questions that he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. Not being able to take it anymore, he simply blurted ‘What did they do to you?’.

•When Jude fixed her glance on him, he felt suddenly ashamed and wanted to avert his gaze for even thinking of making her relive her time with Orlagh. But he had to know, and he thought that it would be good for her too.

•At first, Jude didn’t want to answer. She planned on ignoring him as if he said nothing, but then she realized that she had been hoping for someone to ask, someone to care, someone to comfort her. Because she wasn’t okay and she was so tired of not being allowed to be vulnerable.

•So she took a deep breath, and started talking. She told him about Nicasia’s punch and how it left her breathless, of her drowning Jude until she was unconscious, of her threats that she could do whatever she wanted because Jude wouldn’t remember anyway. Cardan’s face was unreadable, but his tail kept whipping side to side, as it usually did when he was agitated. She told him about allowing their humiliations so they wouldn’t guess she wasn’t glamoured, how they slapped her and made her sleep in a cage, surrounded by violent currents, and how she couldn’t get the sound of the water hitting whatever charm was surrounding her cage to keep it dry; how she sometimes saw the light from above and hoped and hoped somebody was coming for her. How they kept her in clothes that barely covered her and how vulnerable she felt. How scared she was that they were going to break her. She didn’t say that she thought they might’ve.

•She did not want to tell him about Balekin. She did not want to think about what it was like to have to kiss him even though he was everything she despised. How he asked her to kiss him as if he was Cardan; how he twisted what he guessed about her hidden feelings into something ugly or how Cardan’s kisses were now associated with Balekin. How every time she thought about kissing Cardan, she was forced to remember Baleking. His voice was soft, and quiet when he found the courage to ask ‘Jude, what did he do to you? I can see how you flinch when you think it is him waking you up.’

•Jude closed her eyes and took a deep breath; ‘He asked me to kiss him’, she said and then went to explain how he seemed to be delighted with the idea that he was ruining one of his brother’s toys. He seemed delighted to have the chance to break her, the High King’s mortal. Jude did not say that Balekin guessed at their feelings for each other, and how he rejoiced in turning them into something that he could use. But she did tell Cardan that Balekin liked her kisses best when she was forced to pretend it was Cardan she was kissing.

•Cardan felt rage boiling in him. His brother took so much away from him- even when he was King, Balekin would not stop trying to take from Cardan what was dearest to his heart. He wanted to kill Balekin, carve him up and throw him in the sea for Orlagh to understand what happened when someone messed with what Cardan loved. But he couldn’t. He could not do anything; he was as powerless as he was when Balekin used to punish him. He was the King of nothing- he couldn’t even protect his people, couldn’t protect Jude, couldn’t protect his heart.

•Cardan did not know what to say, so he was quiet for a while. ‘I’m so sorry Jude,’ he said eventually. And then he apologized for not being able to protect her, and for taking so long to get her back and for the suffering Balekin caused her.

•When Cardan said ‘I understand if you do not want to be in my accompany’, Jude’s head snapped up and she fixed her eyes on his. His eyes might look similar to Balekin’s, but the look in them as they were studying Jude was completely different. Balekin’s have been hungry, a sociopathic gleam in them as he forced his mouth on Jude’s. Cardan’s were apologetic, soft, carefully taking in her features; there was nothing cruel in them, not now.

•‘I’m glad you’re here, Cardan,’ Jude said, voice barely a whisper. ‘Your presence reminds me you’re nothing like your brother. The memories of him will fade, and they will be replaced with ones of you.’

•Cardan stood up from the couch, and walked to her side. Put a hand on shoulder, warm and secure, and for once, Jude did not overthink, did not shy away from being comforted. She leaned her head on the hand on her shoulder, while his other hand slowly came up and gently pushed the hair away from her face. ‘I won’t let it happen again,’ he said and because he couldn’t lie, Jude believed him.

•After that night in her room, Jude felt lighter. It was good to have someone you can be vulnerable with, she thought, and it was even better that Cardan behaved like his normal self- no weird awkwardness or tip-toeing around each other, no matter the vulnerability she shared with him.

•Which is why, when Jude could not sleep because of the sound of rain on her bedroom window, she felt comfortable enough to go knock at Cardan’s door. When he opened the door, she simply said ‘I can’t sleep’ and he moved out of the way to let her in. He asked no questions, and simply got back in his bed, watching her skeptically walking to the bed too. ‘Well, get in already’ he said and it was enough to make Jude roll her eyes and forget the strangeness that was starting to creep up on her.

•Cardan turned on his side, and so did Jude so they were facing each other. He raised a finger and pushed some of her hair behind her ear, tracing the curved part of it. It reminded her of a time when he wasn’t yet King, and she wasn’t his seneschal. She closed her eyes and sighed; his bed was warm and his presence comforting, the steady rhythm of his breaths reminding her that she was on land, on land, on land. She was alright. There was enough air for her to breathe freely, and a soft bed she was laying in, and a fluffy pillow under her head. Cardan next to her, not Balekin. ‘The sound of rain on the windows makes me feel as if I’m in that cage again,’ she admitted. ‘The cage was dry and I could breathe, but there was water all around me. I can’t forget the sound of it crashing all around me.’

•Cardan didn’t say anything, and she didn’t want him to. He just pulled her closer to him, and she nuzzled her head in his warm chest, one of his hands playing with her hair, and one hugging her to him. The sound of the rain was distant now, the beating of his heart the only sound that mattered. She focused on it, counting the beats, matching her own pulse to his, and gently fell asleep feeling safe and far away from the dangers of the water.

Underneath the Silence, ch. 1

Yes, chapter one of my TobiMina fic. I decided against posting it for founders week and then let it dormant until I’ve finished it. I also fear that I might loose motivation to write, when I post biweekly and feedback lacks. So, I just randomly throw chapter 1 out in the wild as an appetizer for what will come (and later some snippets, if I feel like).

CNs: violence against humans, blood, implied gore, near death experience, loss of relatives, drugs

4.2k

Sorry, it’s sad at the end :c

Life.

In the end, every creature wanted nothing more than to live. In the face of death, everything else lost its meaning and only the overwhelming urge to survive remained. It was so powerful that it unleashed unimagined forces. Even the most harmless prey animal could then overpower a much stronger pursuer. Every experienced hunter knew this, and he also knew that the greatest danger threatened him even when the hunt was supposedly over and the wounded prey had its back to the wall.

Tobirama was the prey and in these last moments he experienced that a life as a shinobi could never have prepared him for what it would be like when death reached out to him. He had seen all his brothers die. He had taken so many lives that he could no longer count them. He had been in life-threatening situations himself more than once. But never had the Grim Reaper come before him.

He heard Kinkaku laughing behind him as he stumbled through the forest with the last of his strength. Blind panic kept him on his feet, adrenaline suppressed the pain. It should hurt, a last vestige of rational thought told him; his whole left side was nothing but a bleeding mass of flesh after the last blast. But somehow he still dragged himself forward on legs he had long since stopped feeling.

Life. That was all. Out of here, just out of here.

His legs failed him. He fell. He clawed his hands into the leafy forest floor and pulled himself forward with the last of his strength.

Kinkaku and Ginkaku were in no hurry. They calmly followed the trail of blood.

"Where is that little wolf going?" one of the brothers sneered. "Didn't we play so well together? Hide and seek, that was really fun. Don't you want to stay and play some more?"

Life.

Tobirama would die here and it would be a slow, agonising death. They would pick him apart piece by piece. They would gut him and bleed him out like a slaughtered pig.

He gasped for air, but no matter what he did, there just wasn't enough air.

Life.

But here was only death.

Away. Away. As far as possible.

Konoha.

A clear thought amidst a sea of chaos, blood and torn flesh. An idea born of naked desperation. Concerns no longer mattered.

He did it.

Only a moment later he collapsed in his office, as powerless as a doll whose strings had been cut. His heart raced. The world was spinning. No matter how frantically he gasped for air, his lungs just wouldn't fill with oxygen. He felt cold. He was shivering. He could no longer feel his hands.

As if from far away, he heard the frightened shouts of people. They only reached his ear in a muffled way. As if he were under water and they were standing on the shore calling for him. His vision went dark, his eyes unable to see clearly what he was looking at.

"Sensei?"

"How can that be?"

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Get out of the way!"

"He's wounded!"

"I can see that myself!"

"He needs a doctor!"

"Everyone out of the way now, I'm taking him to the hospital!"

Someone lifted him up. Then Tobirama knew nothing more.

Life.

Life was an indomitable force, a spark in the bitter cold of infinite nothingness, a tiny seed that fought its way to the surface through all odds and blossomed into immeasurable glory. Life found its way, no matter how adverse the circumstances.

Sometimes, however, the inexorable finality of death prevailed.

Contrary to what he had thought, Tobirama was not yet ready to die.

"But actually it's not so bad," Hashirama said. "Death is just another step in our journey."

"But what is at the end of this journey?"

"Who knows," Kawarama said. "You don't know. We don't know. Many paths still lie ahead of us."

"Will we walk those paths together?"

"It would be nice," Itama said. "One day, for sure. But the time is not yet ripe."

"Why?"

"Because you are not ready, otōto," Hashirama said gently. His smile radiated warmth. "We are waiting for you, don't worry. The day will come when the time is right."

"I'm looking forward to it!", Kawarama assured him. "But we can wait."

"We literally have eternity to ourselves," Itama added. "A few years won't matter now."

"I miss you."

"We miss you too. How could we not?" said Hashirama. "But there are still enough people who need you. Can you look out for them? For us?"

Could he?

Kawarama stuck out his thumb at him. Itama nodded firmly. Hashirama grinned broadly.

Yes. Yes, he could. He memorised the sight of his brothers firmly.

"Don't worry about us, otōto. We'll be all right. It won't be forever, after all."

Tobirama found peace.

Pain.

That was probably the clearest sign that, contrary to all his expectations, he was still among the living. Or again? He could not say. Had it been a fever dream? A delusion caused by an acute lack of oxygen and life-threatening blood loss? Or had he had a glimpse of what followed life after all?

He couldn't even tell what exactly was hurting him because everything just hurt. He felt as if an enormous weight was pressing him down and tying him to the bed on which he lay. Or maybe it was just an enormous weakness, the likes of which he had never experienced before. To lift even one finger was an effort that seemed almost impossible. He could only move his right arm anyway, as his left was tightly bandaged and fixed to his body. Something didn't feel right.

He blinked. It was bright. Bright light stung his eyes and blinded him.

A low, steady beeping sound reached his ear. That was the only thing he heard, that and the overly loud sound of his own breathing. Something was there in front of his face. Whatever it was, it had to go.

Lifting his hand and removing the thing from his face required almost inhuman amounts of strength. But at least this distracting thing was finally gone from his face. It was a peculiar mask that covered his mouth and nose. A tube led away from it. What was that thing?

Gradually his eyes had become accustomed to the bright light and so he could see that he was in a strange place. Was it really strange? Somehow this reminded him of a hospital room.

Hashirama had been so proud of the hospital, a long-cherished dream he had been able to fulfil. But something about it didn't seem right. Tobirama just couldn't put his finger on what exactly was wrong with it.

The aromatic smell of pipe-weed rose to his nostrils. He was not alone.

He turned his head and found himself face to face with an old man. Why did he seem so familiar? The old man was sitting at his bedside, calmly smoking a pipe and watching him. Next to him sat another person, a young man with straw-blond hair, who until now had been reading in a book. When he noticed Tobirama stirring, he looked up. Tobirama had never seen such ice-blue eyes.

"Oh, so our surprise patient has woken up," he said.

"Welcome back to the living, sensei," the old man greeted him.

Sensei? Tobirama was confused. His thoughts were as viscous as honey; it was a terribly frustrating feeling. The pieces of the puzzle just wouldn't fit together.

The old man looked at him questioningly. "Don't you recognise me anymore, sensei? Oh. Well, thirty-five years do leave their mark. It's me, Hiruzen."

"Saru?" croaked Tobirama, startled at the sound of his own voice. He hardly recognised it. "But ... how?"

"We would have to ask you that, sensei," Hiruzen said. "You just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a meeting five days ago, covered in blood and more dead than alive. Minato," he pointed to the man at his side, "brought you here to the hospital immediately, but the doctors could give no guarantee that you would survive your injuries. That you had lived at all ... It was only two days ago that they declared your condition stable and brought you out of the artificial coma they had put you in. Sensei, what happened? I don't understand, nobody understands. How can it be that you haven't aged a day? It's been so long."

Tobirama stared at him in disbelief. Then he burst out laughing. Maybe it was the medication, maybe it was all the blood he had lost or the lack of oxygen, maybe it was just the absurdity of the situation. The laughter hurt and soon he had to cough with a gasp, but he just couldn't help himself. It was completely insane.

"I made the impossible possible," he said when he had half caught his breath again. Why was he so short of breath? "For generations the Uzumaki have puzzled over whether time travel is possible, and in the end declared it impossible. And now, just like that, I have proven them wrong. The seal finally worked too well."

Minato leaned forward. "This particular Hiraishin seal in the Hokage's office? I had always wondered what it was for, but never dared to try my hand at it."

Tobirama frowned. How did he know about this? But then he nodded. "It was an experiment, a prototype that was not really meant for use yet. But it was my last resort. A Hiraishin over particularly long distances. Mito had her reservations about how it would work. As usual, she was right."

Only then did he realise the full impact of what he had done. Not only had he crossed almost the entire country in the blink of an eye, but three and a half decades had passed in the process. Nothing was as he had known it. One moment he was fighting for survival, and the next the world had changed.

His mind refused to continue that thought.

"You never came back, sensei," Hiruzen said. "Everyone thought you were dead, but your body was never found. Now I know why. You had never died."

Thirty-five years. It seemed like a nightmare. But then he saw the wrinkles on Hiruzen's face and knew he was awake. His aching limbs reminded him all too clearly that he was still very much alive.

Facts. He needed facts. After all, it was no use for him to feel sorry for himself now and complain about what had happened. He couldn't undo it, at least not at this moment and in his condition.

"Who are you?" he wanted to know from Minato. He could guess why Hiruzen was here. But Minato was still nothing more than a name to him.

"Oh. Of course. Please excuse me for still not introducing myself properly, Nidaime-sama. I am Namikaze Minato, the Yondaime Hokage," Minato said. He stood up and turned around so that Tobirama could read the writing on the back of his cloak. Quite unsurprisingly, it said Yondaime Hokage.

But before Tobirama could ask even one of his innumerable questions, the door was opened and a woman in a white coat entered with an energetic stride. She carried a clipboard. Without comment, she registered that Tobirama had regained his senses, but scowled at Hiruzen and Minato.

"Shoo, shoo, get out of here," she ordered them. "You should have let me know he was awake right away instead of bothering him with questions."

"You are right, of course, Fuyuko-san," Hiruzen said diplomatically. "However, this is a matter of the utmost importance, I'm sure you understand."

"No, I don't," Fuyuko shot back. "This is my station and in here I alone am in charge, no matter who you are out there."

Oh, wonderful. That kind of doctor.

Minato and Hiruzen exchanged a glance. Then Minato shrugged his shoulders. "We'll come back later."

Fuyuko scowled after them as they left the room. She gave the impression of a watchdog that had successfully chased intruders out of its territory. Then she turned back to Tobirama.

"How are you?"

Tobirama hated feeling so weak. He felt like an invalid. "In pain," he admitted after all. Eyes closed and through. That had been the most purposeful thing to do with Hashirama too.

"And where?"

Tobirama gave her a long look. "Everywhere."

Fuyuko held his gaze. "Alright, that one was on me." She flicked through the notes on her clipboard. "I could still increase the morphine dose a little, but not much and not for long. Otherwise, there's a dependency. Anything else?"

"Take the stuff out of me," Tobirama demanded. By now he had noticed that someone had stuck a cannula into the back of his hand. A tube led from it to a bag containing a clear liquid. There were also several wires stuck to him, all leading to a monitor from which the beeping was coming. He didn't know what any of this was for, nor did he want to find out. They were foreign objects and they had no business being on him.

"Nothing there," Fuyuko told him. "As your attending physician, I cannot be responsible for that. Your condition was critical until recently and still I cannot guarantee that it will not become so again. Do you actually have any idea in what condition you were brought to me?"

She didn't even wait for Tobirama's answer, but continued immediately: "Honestly, if I had done an autopsy, I wouldn't have known what exactly to declare as the cause of death. Multiple organ failure would have been the closest, just everything would have been closer. Countless bruises, abrasions and cuts up to flesh wounds are just the beginning, as well as several broken and fractured bones. Then there are first and second degree burns, lucky that that wasn't more. Of course, there is also the obligatory head trauma, as well as the loss of a critical amount of blood. One could almost call it lucky that you had already suffered cardiac arrest when Hokage-sama had burst into the middle of the hospital screaming like mad for an ambulance, otherwise you would have bled to death on the operating table. Oh, let's not forget several broken ribs and a perforated lung. You looked like you'd been thrown into a meat grinder. We had to remove parts of your left lung, the tissue was completely destroyed and the organ was already no longer functional. Finally, your left hand, if one can still speak of one. We were able to fix most of it, but still had to remove the ring finger and parts of the middle finger. In short, you were actually already clinically dead when I had you under the knife, and it was more like a slaughter than an operation."

Tobirama stared at her, speechless. "Anything else?" he asked tonelessly.

"If you want a sleeping pill, I can give you one."

He simply nodded.

For the first and perhaps only time, Tobirama accepted the effects of the narcotics with open arms. He was otherwise not sure if he would be able to sleep at all after these bad news. It was simply all too much at once.

His sleep was deep and dreamless and that was exactly what he needed right now. He needed a rest from his own racing thoughts.

It was probably already the next day when he awoke again. The light of an early morning hour shone into the room. Someone had opened the windows and the white curtains blew lightly in the breeze. It seemed to be summer, the air was balmy and smelled of flowering meadows.

Thirty-five years. Tobirama still could not comprehend it. The facts all spoke for it, but his mind still refused to process the information.

He tried to sit up and found that with some effort he was able to. Bandages wrapped tightly around his upper body. His left arm was also still tightly bandaged and lay in a sling. The pungent smell of antiseptic clung to him. Piece by piece, he picked these cable things off his torso, paying no attention to the frantic beeping of the monitor that sounded the alarm.

He notes that it was strange to be so invalid for so long. In the past, Hashirama would have patched him up long ago. But Hashirama was no longer there.

He felt lonelier than ever.

Cautiously, he tested whether he could stand up. The hospital floor felt cold under his bare feet. Thoughtfully, he gradually put his weight on them. His knees felt like pudding. He made a gruff sound. Surely it couldn't be that he was tied to the bed like a decrepit old man! Stubbornly, he reached for the thing to which this fluid bag was attached. It had rollers attached to its feet. Still humiliating, but at least it was better than just lying stuporously in bed all the time.

Carefully putting one wobbly step in front of the other, he worked his way to the window. He was frustrated and unnerved that he was panting as if after an all-day endurance run when he finally arrived at his destination. Exhausted, he leaned on the windowsill. This was embarrassing.

At least he had a good view out the window now, though. Konoha. Clearly. There were even four faces there on the cliff now. Saru, just as he had suspected, and Minato had joined them. Minato's portrait was even still being worked on, so he could not have been in office long.

The village itself had also grown. Tobirama recognised much of it, but many things were new to him. Whole quarters had been added. How many inhabitants did Konoha have now?

What about those he had left behind? With Chio and Sakumo and Mito and Miyazaki and Tsunade and Nawaki?

Instinctively, he tried to use his sensory abilities and look for them, but found to his displeasure that his chakra had still not recovered enough. He was more defenceless and helpless than he had ever been in his life, and at such a critical time. He clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it down on the window sill in frustration.

But surely Hiruzen would have told them by now what had happened. Mito was over eighty years old by now. A ripe age, but nothing unusual for Uzumaki. He reminded himself to be patient. Everything in its own time, there was no need to rush things now. For him, after all, barely a day had passed in an awake state since he had escaped the Gold and Silver Brothers.

Hopefully someone had whacked the bastards for him. The fuckers certainly deserved it.

Tobirama stared at his hand. He took several deep breaths and forced himself to relax his fingers again. His left hand was thickly wrapped in bandages, he couldn't use his fingers. At least the ones he had left. A thought he hadn't really internalised yet.

Without further ado, he raised his right hand to his mouth and pulled the cannula in his skin with his teeth. It hardly hurt at all, even thanks to the high doses of painkillers, when he tugged the needle out. It bled a little, but that hardly bothered him. Finally, this thing was out of him. Doctor Fuyuko would surely scold him for it, but he didn't care.

Then he watched the people in the village.

Time travel. He had really done it. One might think he would be more pleased to have provided proof of the impossible. However, he only felt an ever-growing unease.

But what exactly had he done? The original Hiraishin was designed for a maximum of a few kilometres, and actually it had always been enough until now. Nevertheless, he had been pondering for some time whether he could increase the range. It had obviously worked, he had been able to cross almost the entire country in the blink of an eye.

And skipped thirty-five years at the same time.

Hiraishin was a jutsu bound to space and time. He had made the discovery very early on. The first prototypes back then had only possessed the space component. He had covered the distance to his mark in subjective time quasi instantly, but outside of that as much time had elapsed as he would have needed to run the same distance. It had taken him many attempts until not a moment had elapsed outside his subjective time either.

Mito had warned him that it would be difficult to maintain this extremely fragile balance between the two elements of the seal if he changed a variable. One did not play with time, one of the principles of Fūinjutsu. He had done it anyway, and so far it had always worked.

This new Hiraishin was a prototype, nothing he would have already tested in any other situation. Too many unanswered questions, too many uncertainties. But faced with the choice of taking this risk or going to certain death, it had been an easy question to answer.

Admittedly, he was not proud of how much he had let his panic dominate him. It was downright embarrassing. It shouldn't have happened to him of all people. And not an hour before, he had been telling his students to always keep a cool head, as they had been taught.

As it turned out, all the lessons learned throughout life were for nothing at the moment of death.

His musings were interrupted when the door opened again. He was already bracing himself for Fuyuko's inevitable scolding, but it was only Hiruzen who came to see him again, accompanied by Minato.

"So you are feeling better, sensei?", Hiruzen wanted to know. He was wise enough to dispense with the already pointless comment that Tobirama might be better off still resting.

"As well as one can be under the influence of strong drugs," Tobirama replied. Without all those painkillers, he probably wouldn't even be able to crawl.

"I'm glad to hear that," Minato said. "After all, I really didn't think I would one day save the life of the inventor of Hiraishin, the legendary White Wolf of Konoha, with his own jutsu."

"From what I've heard from the doctor, it was indeed a last-second rescue. I am in your debt, Yondaime-sama." Tobirama tilted his head slightly. It was unusual to address someone else with that title. Hashirama had always been his anija, no matter the situation.

Should he address Hiruzen as Sandaime-sama? The situation was a little irritating.

"Oh, not at all," Minato rebuffed. "It was a matter of course, anyone else would have done the same."

"How do you know my Hiraishin anyway?", Tobirama wanted to know. "Apart from Mito, I had never introduced anyone to the details of the seal. For good reason."

"My sensei, Jiraiya, taught me," Minato said.

"And he, in turn, had received permission from me to do so," Hiruzen took the floor. "Jiraiya had been my student with Tsunade and Orochimaru. Years later, when he became a Jōnin instructor himself, he approached me with a request to give him your notes on Hiraishin, as he felt it was a jutsu appropriate to Minato's abilities. Since you, sensei, had never classified it as a kinjutsu, I agreed."

Tobirama might have acted differently, but he knew neither Jiraiya's nor Minato's abilities and trusted Hiruzen's assessment.

"What happened to Tsunade?" he asked instead. "How is my family?"

A telling silence answered him. Tobirama frowned. That was never a good sign.

"Ah, sensei, I really don't know where to start here," Hiruzen said regretfully. "Perhaps you would like to sit down first?"

"Say it straight," Tobirama demanded.

Hiruzen took a deep breath. "Nawaki died when he was just twelve, on one of his first Genin missions. An accident, he had been beyond saving. Chio-sama, your wife, died of a pulmonary embolism twenty years ago. Mito-hime voluntarily gave her life five years ago when she passed Kyubi on to the next jinchūriki."

Minato lowered his eyes. "We hold her heroic sacrifice in high honour. Her successor became Uzumaki Kushina, my wife."

"Only a year later, Miyazaki-san died unexpectedly as a result of a stroke. The death of her mother was the final trigger for Tsunade to break away from the village, and she left Konoha. I don't know exactly where she is at the moment, but according to my latest knowledge she is doing well. Sakumo, however ... sensei, I regret to inform you that your son took his own life nine years ago. He did, however, leave behind a daughter."

"A son," Minato corrected.

"Oh. Yes, of course. My mistake. Kakashi is a respected shinobi of the village and ... sensei, are you all right?"

Tobirama regretted not sitting down. All at once the whole world spun around him. Seeking support, he groped around him. Minato was at his side, forcing him onto the bed with gentle relentlessness.

All dead. They were all dead, dead before their time. From one moment to the next. Now he was truly alone.

"Go," he murmured. "Leave me alone. I ... I need a moment to myself."

"Of course," Hiruzen said quietly. Respectfully, he withdrew with Minato.

Only when they had closed the door behind them did Tobirama allow himself his tears.

In the end, death took them all.

Rewarded as a bully deserves (HunterXhunter)

Killua was in a rotten mode as he headed for the closet park in town, huffing and growling over him and Gon having a fight.

It was just so stupid! Here he was, a deadly assassin and for the 6th time this month they'd woken up in a bed drenched with pee. Lord knows Gon was trying to be kind and supportive but really, who could blame him for getting tired of waking up soaked?

Gon wanted Killua to start wearing 'protection' at night to bed, but the deadliest bed wetter alive refused to go that far, he had already comprised and let Gon put rubber sheets on the bed so hotel staffs stopped giving them a hard time hadn't he?

In any case they had taken a shower and gotten dressed, and Gon asked Killua to go for a walk by himself and think about what he had said.

'Screw that nonsense.. I'm go and cheer myself up the best way I know how!' Killua thought as he came to the playground area of the park. Nothing lifted his spirits like a little bit of harmless bullying.

Scanning the play area Killua spotted a good first target. a 5-6 year old with dark tanned skin and a black brush cut was digging away in the sandbox, making a moat around a sad looking sand castle he'd made with one hand, while licking away on a mint chocolate ice cream cone with the other.

spotting a plastic bucket with some water in it for the moat, Killua smirked and strolled over.

"Nice fort little guy." He said sarcastically, getting the boys attention and the kid gave him a smile.

"thanks! I was working on it for like ever!" The little guy said, apparently not recognizing the tone.

"Heh, Would be a shame if something happened to it though." Killua chuckled. "you did get house insurance against giants right?"

"Uhhh what?"

"well what if some big mean old giant.." Killua started, stepping into the sand box now. "Just came up..and did THIS!" Killua asked and stomped his foot down on top of the fort, snickering as the little guys eyes went wide.

"HEY! WHY'D YA DO THAT?!?" the little guy yelled, starting to stand up and with tears welling in his eyes.

"Because i'm better, stronger and therefore better then you. Little dorks have to get put in their place." Killua sneer and then grabbed the arm holding the ice cream cone and make the kid smuch it onto his hair. "Geez you little dorks are SUCH messy eaters!"

The boy squealed as the sudden cold on his head and how icky it felt.

"S-Stop this! I-I" the boy tried to make his threat clear but he was also trying not to full on bawl.

"heyyy don't worry about it, I'll help you clear up!" Killua laughed, then snatched up the bucket with the water in it and dumped it on the boys head, then tugged it down over the kids eyes.

"Hey, that's a good look for you, but it's missing something." Killua said and sneered, then turned the boy around and tugged back the kid's short then tanked up on the poor little guys briefs.

"Awww, a fan of sailor moon I see!" Killua teased and hooked the back of the briefs on the back of the bucket, then booted the kid in the ass, sending him sprawling out of the sand pit.

"Alright, I had my fun, get the fuck out of here before I decide to be mean." Killua said cheerfully.

the thought that all of this had been Killua being nice light a fire under the boy's butt, and he ran/crawled off, not even trying to remove the helmet or pick the wedgie out of his butt.

"well, I feel better already." Killua commented to himself, though he noticed a few other kids and adults glaring at him.

"Oh by all means, anyone who wants to try and punish me.. " Killua said, going from a happy goofy look to his slash smile. "Step up."

no one did.

After scaring two more little guys into give him all their ice cream money Killua was in the middle of getting a cone (Double chocolate mint just like the dork had had, it had looked good after all) when he heard a familiar voice.

"That's him Carlo! that's the bully!" cried the dork from before.

Turning around slowly Killua smirked, Carlo was clearly the dork's big brother, and while he was a little bit taller then Killua he had a slim build and the same tanned skin, though his hair was a bit longer while still being short.

"Ok mister, I'm going to give you ONE chance to say sorry to my little brother, and get him a replacement cone. If you don't.." Carlo said, crossing his eyes and glaring at Killua with a death glare.

Killua, who gave those out with ease froze for a tiny fraction of a second, and his bladder twitched, but he shook it off and took a long lick of his ice cream to show he wasn't scared, and to give him time to regain his composure.

"What? If i don't you'll do -what?-" Killua asked. "Try and fight me and end up hanging from the teeth ball pole by your undies? I mean, I'm mostly in a good mood now but if it's a ass kicking you want." Killua sneered.

Carlo rolled his eyes, then smirked.

"You know..I've been in a bit of a funk lately, and beating up bullies always makes me free better.. so thanks." He said.

Killua raised a eyebrow to thank but before he could react, Carlo was right next to him, and much like Killua had done before, taken a gripe on the arm with the ice cream cone.

On small difference though, Carlo wasn't going to make him put it in his hair and had tugged open the front of Killua's shorts and undies.

"W-Wait d-don't!" Killua shrieked, his plea fell on deaf ears though and he was somehow powerless to over come the taller boy power.

As such, a high pitch wail was heard as Killua's twig and berries got a double mint chocolate coating.

Killua's eyes crossed and a cartoonish image flashed in his mind as it felt like his private had just been transformed into two ice cubes and a Icicle, then there was sudden relief and warmth, making him stick his tongue out the side of his mouth in blessed relief.. at least until he noticed the warmth was traveling down his legs.

"heh, Carlo the bully wet himself!" The little guy pointed out, snickering and getting out his phone to take pictures.

"I can see that buddy, Aww, did the cold cold ice cream make da big bad bully go wee wee?" Carlo asked, folding his arms over his chest and baby talking to Killua.

"i..I uh.." Killua stammered, Sure, he was no stranger to soaking his pants at NIGHT while he was asleep, but this was a new one for him! "I..didn't go tinkle?" He finished lamely.

"Rightt then whats that making a puddle on the ground right now and staining your shorts." Carlo asked.

"..I don't have to answer that! In fact, I've had enough of false accusation's and I'm leaveing!" Killua huffed and turned around to do just that, but also exposed his back to his new found enemy.

Carlo, knowing that Killua had wedgie his little brother Hector, moved in and with on hand tugging Killua's shorts back the other grabbed the waist brand of Killua's Barney briefs and lifted up before the poor hunter even had a chance to fight back.

Killua's mouth opened as if he was screaming, and while dogs howled in pain no one with human ears could of heard the noise coming from his mouth, it was that high pitched.

Carlo smirked at the response and said "Awww, Barney briefs? that's just soo..fitting! But I wonder how strong they are?" then adding his other hand to the back of the waist band even as Killua looked over his shoulder and shook his head no, bringing his hands together pleading, Yanked the soon to be ex-hunter off the ground by a good 2 inches if now more and dangled him there as Killua turned pale and went blank eyed.

"Oh wow, those must be reinforced Carlo!" Hector marveled, recording this all for YouTube.

"I know, kinda a shame, if they weren't they'd of snapped by now and he'd know SOME relief." Carlo chuckled then turned him and Killua better into frame for the camera.

"hi I'm Carlo and this is a big bully who tried to pick on my little brother..Huh, never caught his name.. Hey wedgie boy, whats your name?" Carlo asked and holding Killua up with just one arm delivered a hard swat to Killua's buns, which also ended up making his shorts slide down around his ankles showing off his pee stained undies.

"A-AH! M-Mah name is Killua Zoldyck and I'm super super sowwy! Pwease stop!" Killua begged and pleaded, in a voice that sounded like he'd sucked on some helium.

"I dunno Hector, what do YOU think? Has Killua had enough?" Carlo asked, and Killua shot the boy he'd bullied a pleading look, bottom lip trembling and tears welling up.

"Hmmm you know I really think..that you should use him like a yo-yo till his undies snap. THEN I'll forgive him!" Hector giggled.

With both hands on the waist band Carlo went to work even as Killua started to blubber and cry for his mommy.

It ended up taking a record breaking 55 bounces before Killua's undies snapped, and by that time Killua had gone to la-la. with his undies snapped and ripped off off he was too out of it to notice that he was currently face down butt up with nothing covering his der rear and his bubble butt and little package showing.

"oh man.. that explains why he was in such a bad mood.." Hector giggled, having turned off the camera for now but uploading the video. (after all, even with a member as small of Killua's the mods on YouTube would of removed the video)

"man, makes me feel like I picked on a over sized toddler. feeling a little guilty." Carlo said, though in truth he wasn't really.

Killua's shorts were gone by this point as the boys who's ice cream money he had stolen had retrieved them, and after finding some of the cash and taking Killua's wallet, had tossed them in a bin meant for dog waste.

"Well, nothing we can do now, we don't have any spare pants for him." Hector pointed out.

"Well not quite..remember that weird vendor we passed on the way in?" Carlo said, digging into his pocket and pulling out some bill's.

"Heh.. you don't mean.." Hector asked.

"A yup. be a good boy and run and get widdle Killua something to wear." Carlo said, handing the money over and keeping a eye on 'sleeping beauty' while Hector ran off.

Killua was having a wonderful dream about having a endless buffet of candy and chocolates and it was so nice after what must of been a nightmare where he was tormented and bullied beyond belief.

He was slowly waking up and rolling over to sit up and rubbing his eyes. "Nggggh Heyyy Gon, you wouldn't believe the night..mare..I.." Killua started to say then opened his eyes, seeing Carlo and a semi crowd all around.

"Welcome back to the land of the living tiny!" Carlo said.

Killua huffed at that and stood up, about to tell Carlo off, he wasn't THAT much shorter when a breeze blew and he noticed how much he felt it on his on buns.

Looking down his face went crimson and Killua grabbed at his shirt and tugged it down, trying to cover up his privates.

"W-WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY UNDIES? MY SHORTS?!" Killua yelled, getting roars of laughter from the crowd.

"Well your undies were totally wreaked so we tossed them." Carlo said, nodding over to a waste bin for normal trash. "As for your shorts, there was a couple of boys you really seemed to annoy earlier and after getting back they're ice cream money with interest, they tossed them in the dogie waste bin..I doubt you'll want them back."

"but..but.. I can't go around with my ding dong on display!" Killua whined and whimpered.

"That's true. don't worry, I already thought of that shrimp." Carlo said and nodded behind Killua.

Killua turned to look and there was Hector, the brat he wished he'd never of picked on, running back with a pack of...DIAPERS!?

Killua whimpered loudly, a spurt of pee coming out and soaking the bottom of his shirt as he turned back to Carlo with pleading eyes.

"Please no! anything but diapers!" Killua whimpered. "I'm not a baby!"

"heh, Are you SURE about that?" Carlo asked, looking down and making Killua's gaze follow to the damp spot on Killua's t-shirt.

"i..but..that was because.." Killua mewed then shrieked and jumped, grabbing at his bun's as Hector came in range and walloped Killua's baby butt.

Ironically when he came down he landed in Carlo's waiting arms, like a blushing bride.

"Awww how cute, but you really think I'm gonna save you?" Carlo asked, then dropped Killua onto the hard ground and onto his tender buns.

"S-Stop being s-so mean to me!" Killua whined, on the verge of anther crying fit.

"Sheesh, I should of gotten him a paci." Hector said, handing the pack of diapers over to Carlo then tugging the shirt up and off of Killua, using it as a tear rag then tossing it out.

"Oh wow, Lookie here Killua~" Carlo said, reading the pack then holding it in front of Killua's face then read from the back. " 'New little poopers punishment diapers are perfect for your so called big kid who refuses to use the potty! extra thick to ensure they waddle, it comes with a embarrassingly babyish nursery print we promise to have your little stinker blushing bright red. with a special stink guard you and the big baby won't have to deal with their stink!' Heh wow, Oh look, they offer alt versions, that's something to keep in mind if you need more lessons."

Killua meanwhile was looking at the front of the package, showing sobbing pre teens in the bulky diapers and smirking parents.

"I-I changed my mind! I'll go home naked!" Killua whined.

"Nonsense! what kind of person would I be if I let you go without the diaper you CLEARLY need!" Carlo said, as if he was doing Killua a favor. "This is gonna go down one of two ways loser. You can either lay back and suck your thumb while I put as many of these as I can on you, or I can kick your ass, knock you senseless..then put as many of these as I can on you. Either way, you're going back to diapers. YOUR choice."

Killua pouted, started to ball a fist up.. then sighed and laid back, popping his thumb in his mouth and turning away from the crowd as laughter and taunts rang out.

"Loser!"

"Big baby!"

"Wuss!"

Carlo was a little disappointed that Killua decided not to fight back, but he had to admit seeing the wanna be bully accepting his big baby fate was kinda cute.

ripping the back open open Carlo smirked, dispute being the size of a pack that should be able to hold 16 diapers, there was only 6 of them in the pack and he pulled on of the massive things out, making sure everyone could see all the rattles and paci's and teddy bears and the like all over the diaper then unfolded it.

"Ok Shrimp, Butt up! If i have to lift you up I'm giving your buns a swat!" He said and wasn't shocked when Killua's butt almost levitated up in a instant to avoid any more punishment. "good boy!"

getting the almost pillow like diaper under the loser's butt, he gently pushed Killua's butt back down and smirked as Killua loudly sucked on his thumb, getting drool going down his chin as Carlo pulled the front up nice and snug and then taped it up.

"Welcome back to babyhood Shrimp." Hector said, leaning down and snickering, and making Carlo beam with pride.

In the end they only manged to double diaper Killua, the diapers were just too massive and they ripped a third one trying to get it on the babfied brat.

After he was all nice and snug in his diapers Carlo told Killua to try and get up and to Killua's massive shame, not only could he NOT get up on his own, but he couldn't even get close to bringing his knees together.

The fourth time he just plopped down on his butt trying to get up, Carlo rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"-sigh- Ok Shrimp, let me help you." Carlo said as if he was doing Killua a favor.

Holding out his hands Killua took them and got yanked up to his feet, legs wobbling as he tried to center his balance.

"heh, you might need a bit to get used to waddling in there. Try waddling over to that tree over there." Carlo said, pointing to a tree that would of only been 10 seconds away normally, but with this massive bulk taped around his hips it might as well been a mile away.

Still, Killua knew better then to argue at this point and took a wobbly step, then anther, and smirked, thinking he was getting the hand of it.

'I got this! I can-' He was thinking when his fourth step went wrong and with a loud yelp Killua plopped on his butt, a shocked look on his face but not hurt considering the thick padding under his butt.

"Awww, widdle baby Killua doesn't know how to walk!" Hector giggled, getting more laughter from the crowd.

"yeah, guess you better stick to crawling shrimp..you CAN at least do THAT can't you?" Carlo asked, tilting his head and smirking.

Killua huffed, he wanted to try and walk again but knew he wasn't getting any help and there just wasn't anything to help him get up to his feet with around. He toyed with getting in the crawling position and pushing himself up THAT way but had a feeling while he'd be in the middle of it Carlo would just smack his butt and send him face first into the dirt.

getting on all fours and trying to drown out the snickers and flashes of camera phones going off, Killua rolled around and got on all fours and then slowly crawled over towards the tree, glad that he had been right that he could crawl at least.

'at least i didn't have to do a diaper scoot across the ground, knowing my luck it would of ripped apart the diaper and I'd of gotten a spanking.' Killua thought with a sulk as he reached the tree.

"Well well, at least you can crawl, I was worried I was gonna have to carry you over." Carlo snickered. "Now use the true shrimp and get to your feet, and shake that diapered ass and sing us a song about what a big dumb baby you are and how happy you are to be back in diapers."

"..Your joking right?" Killua asked, jaw dropping. "There is NO WAY in hell I'm gonna d-" he started started to say but Carlo cracked the knuckles on his right fist and and light tapped his fist into his open left hand.

"You SURE about that?" Carlo asked.

"..W-what If I can't think of any lyrics because I'm a big dumb baby?" Killua squeaked out, flooding his pampers.

"I'm sure you'll think of something. It's ok if your dumb is lame though, your just a diaper baby shrimp." Carlo said.

Grunting with effort, Killua pulled himself to his feet, hands braced on the three and looked over his shoulder, the crowd was watching with delight and he trying to think of something, anything to sing.

"I...I'm big baby Killua and I'm so happy.." he started, wiggling his diaper, shutting his eyes.

"Because a big strong boy put me in a nappy!

Diapers are totally wear I belong!

so I hope all of you love my big dumb baby song!

I thought I was a bully but I'm just a dweeb

filling my diapers up with pee pee

If i ask for undies look at me like I'm a nut

then make baby poop with a punch to the gut!"

The act of singing the song and keep his eyes closed so he didn't have to see the crowd (though he could hear them laughing and cheering him on) had Killua's body getting into it and he was shaking his diaper booty like there was no tomorrow.

"Stupid babies like me we don't need to think!

we just sit in our diaper and super stink!

Watch me prove that as a baby I'm the best

I'm gonna fill my diapers with a super big mess!"

Killua's eyes shot open at that, had he really just promised that!? worse, his body was again moving on it's own accord and he was squatting down now, grunting and pushing, puffing out his cheeks.

'no no no no! why can't I stop myself! GOOOON! HELP!' Killua thought.

"Killua? whats going on?" Came Gon's voice.

Killua almost didn't believe it at first, it was just he wanted Gon to save him that he heard the voice of his boyfriend! But no, a look over his shoulder showed Gon standing there, eyebrow raised.

"G-Gon you have to s-save me! I-I-I.." Killua tried to tell Gon about what had happened, how he'd been victimized but before he could get the story out, something else came out in the back of his diaper. "I'M POOPING!" Killua cried out.

if the muffled farts hadn't of been hint enough, the back of the THICK diapers bloating out and getting even bigger would of given it away, and despite the diaper's boast of super stink guard, Killua's backed up stinky load (he hadn't gone in 5 days) was filling the area with a rotten smell, driving part of the crowd away.

Gon for his part just held his nose and then shook his head.

"Really Killua? You won't wear diapers to bed despite being a bed wetter, but you'll load them in public..Your coming with me mister man." Gon scolded and walked over.

"Um.. Should we tell him-" hector started to ask Carlo, holding his own nose.

"Nah, it's better this way. you can get out of the area of effect though, I'm gonna go say by by to baby Killua."

Walking over Gon was scolding Killua and swatting his boyfriends mushy butt as Killua whined and whimpered, sucking his thumb and still going.

"Hi, I'm Carlo...I was watching your little guy today." Carlo said, holding out a hand.

"Oh, well, thanks. I'm sure he was a handful." Gon said, giving Killua a look then shaking Carlo's hand.

"well he wasn't that bad. it was a lot of fun actually. anyways, here's the rest of the diapers Killua got and asked me to put on him, and if you even need a babysitter, give me a call." Carlo said.

"Heh, i just might, give me your number." Gon said, taking out his phone and handing it to Carlo, one hand still mushing Killua's tush.

"there we go. anyways, you two have fun! Byeeee baby Killua! you were LOTS of fun to play with." Carlo said and waved bye to the stinky big baby.

"Killua, don't be rude!" Gon scolded.

Killua whimpered, knowing there was no way he was living this down, he was gonna be in diapers for at LEAST a month..and knew it was pointless to try and tell the truth now.

Sliding his thumb out of his mouth as he finished loading his diaper, he gave a weak wave to Carlo and in a small voice said

"Bye bye."

The end

Away. So, so far away.

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Warnings: fuckin' angst, arguing, alcohol.

Word count: 3,3K

2

“This is just where I draw the line, you know?”, you said to Bucky over your fifth drink. He was still sipping from that goddamn bottle of beer, as if one more drink would make him talk more. You appreciated his silence, but sometimes he was just unnecessarily quiet. You needed a friend to bitch about your in-laws and he kept staring, and staring, and —fucking staring like a mannequin. If he wouldn’t stare so much, you would even say he was shy. “I can’t believe they actually will reject me over not being a good companion for the King because I wouldn’t carry his child. Do you understand how obscenely sexist and, just… plain gross, that is?”.

“He is a prince, after all”.

“They just don’t like me. They raised Loki making him think he’ll be King, then they stripped it away, and now they did just the same and blame it on a stupid reason like I wouldn’t want to have kids. It’s idiotic, right? Besides, I’ll live much less than him. He could just be with me a while, then I die and then he gets someone else who would want his kids. It’s not that hard”.

“Damn”, he muttered. “You do have a lot to say about them, don’t you?”.

“You’re supposed to be my friend here”.

“I thought Tony Stark played that role for you”, he chuckled. “He’s all about playing roles, isn’t he? The hero, the playboy, the genius… I wonder what of them all he really is”.

“Oh, so you do have opinions”.

“Fuck you”.

“No thanks, I don’t like me that much”.

He laughed loudly. In comparison to every laugh and chuckle you’ve managed to pull out of him so far, this one was the loudest. You laughed with him. He had a very contagious smile.

“A kid is… too much. When you’re fucked up, you fuck up the kid too. When you don’t want one and have one anyway, the kid senses it. They’re sponges, you know?”, he said, asking the bartender for another round with a hand gesture.

“To be friends with Steve ‘Language’ Rogers, you curse a lot”, you chuckled, and he downed the drink in a few gulps, trying to catch up with your drunken state. “But yes, exactly. It’s not only that I think I’m fucked up, because that’s not the only thing that would stop me. I would have kids and work through not being a shit parent, if I wanted to”.

“But you don’t want to. That’s the point”.

“Yeah. And I’m not sure Loki doesn’t want one either. He joins kids that play in the park and lets them toy with his many different animal forms. He loves playing with babies, most of all. He is an innate dad, and I’m… not. And I feel like I’m depriving him of too much. The throne, the kids… He… he deserves better”, your eyes started watering, and Bucky frowned, awkwardly placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey… sometimes things just aren’t meant to be. It’s not that you’re a bad partner. You’re great, for what we all see”, he tried to help you feel better. “It’s just that maybe you’re not meant to be with him. Maybe you need someone who wants the same things that you want”.

“I don’t want anyone other than Loki”, you assured him. He nodded, his eyes still fixed on you as if taking them off would lose your interest. “I’m the problem, I’ll always be”.

“No, you are not”, said the knowingly deep voice that pulled you off your insecurities and brought immediate light to your eyes.

“My Loki!”, you greeted him, cheeks hotter and your hair—so sticky, was it always this sticky?

“My love”, he smiled fondly.

“My fucking God”, Bucky rolled his eyes. Loki didn’t pay any mind to him.

“Come on, little darling. Let’s get you some rest”, he said, placing a hand in the nape of your neck, caressing your skin softly. You got up, and just then realized how drunk you were. All the blood from your body went straight to your head, and grabbed him to not fall down. “How much did they drink?”, he asked Bucky.

Bucky raised his shoulders and pressed his lips in a line.

“A bunch”.

Loki sighed and thanked him for keeping you safe. You walked together from the bar to the parking lot. The lights of the city brimmed over the wet pavement —it had just rained. Shame you were so focused on getting drunk, you would’ve loved to stay under the fat drops.

“How long have you been listening?”, you asked as he clicked your seatbelt on. He sighed and curved his lips in a smile you knew he only used when he lied.

“Not more than the last few words”.

He had obviously listened to it all.

“I’m sorry I keep bitching about it. You really do deserve better”.

“Nonsense. If I wanted kids I would be with someone who wanted them”, he lied again. Was it love, this constant lie? Love sometimes was about keeping your thoughts for yourself. In this case, you weren’t so sure it was. Love wasn’t keeping him from the throne, from kids, from a future he wanted to have. “The only thing I want…”, he started, knowing you would finish the answer.

“...is me, right”, you chuckled. “Can I drive?”.

“Definitely not”.

“Yeah, probably for the best”.

You chuckled, your cheeks reddening at everything and anything. You felt your whole body warm, and wanted more than anything for Loki to place one of his long hands on your thigh —that hot thing he did where he drove with one hand, eyes on the road and half a smirk to your side. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink.

“The thing is, Loki”, you kept talking and he sighed. He didn’t want to listen to you like this. He knew you’d say things you didn’t want him to hear. You never were the kind of drunk that slurred on their words and couldn’t walk straight. You just lacked filters. And you had so, so many filters when sober, that Loki felt like an invasion to listen to you like this. “I know you enough, and I’m afraid you’ll…”.

“Look, love”, he interrupted you, pointing somewhere through the windshield. “That’s your favourite iced yogurt shop, is it not? I’ll get you some, you just wait here in the car, alright?”.

You smiled, looking down to your feet. He got out of the car and in a matter of minutes came back with a package. He drove in silence back home and you didn’t say anything else, understanding the motives behind the iced yogurt stop.

Love was somewhere around listening and not listening. You were too drunk to even think about it now.

You could see it in him. That lit off glitter in his eyes —he could have all of that sweet power he always longed for in the tip of his fingers and he got it stripped away. You could see the grief—no, the anger, the insomnia. Whatever his mother told him, it fucked him up for a whole week, if not more. Maybe he just learnt to hide it better after seven days.

You’d cuddle him to sleep, and when you woke up in the middle of the night because your feet were cold, or your mouth was dry, or your bed felt lonely, he wasn’t there. He left in the middle of the night to be somewhere else, and you couldn’t bring yourself to even ask.

You wandered around the apartment after the first three nights. Looking for him to find it emptier than ever. He wasn’t in any other part of the compound. Not in the common kitchen, the common room, the common anything. Not in his brother’s room, and you didn’t even have to check, but he certainly wasn’t in any other room. He wouldn’t, right?

You went back to bed with a feeling of unease. You didn’t call anyone, didn’t say anyone your lover wasn’t there, because you hoped he’d be there in the morning.

You couldn’t close your eyes until the door opened slowly and Loki sneaked his way back to bed, not realizing you were awake. You pretended to be still asleep, without a clue of his night trip to God knows where. He got undressed. He unfolded the sheets and blankets and wrapped himself around you, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder. His body was cold —so much colder than usual. Externally cold, as if he would’ve been somewhere not even his Jötun skin could keep up with. You sighed in relief, but not so much.

You needed to know if he was wounded. You pretended to turn around in your sleep and passed your hands through his bare chest, as if you were greeting him half asleep. He didn’t seem to realize you were wide awake.

No wounds. Good.

Still cold.

You couldn’t figure it out, and groaned. Loki gasped ever so slightly, and then sighed.

“Awake?”.

You opened your eyes, defeated. His eyes didn’t show guilt. They reflected an emptiness, a treasure that he seemed to have found and lost at the very same hour. Whatever kept him up at night, he went looking for it and now it was gone—and he was disappointed in himself for that. He looked disappointed.

“Where do you go when you leave?”, you whispered. You weren’t accusing him, and he knew. You wanted to know. Not demanding, just asking. If he didn’t want to tell you, you would’ve accepted it. Should you? You would. You felt powerless in these situations, now that he had given everything up for you. You shouldn’t.

He rolled off the bed and sat on his feet, looking down. Only the blue shine of the moon illuminated his features, his body, his sore muscles from all the fighting he has gotten involved into lately —missions, more and more training, verbal fights with everyone and himself included, except you—you were always his exception. Was that a good thing, now? It was. You were sure it was.

“Jötunheim”, he said. The word weighed on his tongue, and he clenched his jaw right after saying it. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I might have ruined everything”.

“What do you mean?”.

“I… I really hope nobody notices. I really hope… Heimdall keeps it to himself. I’ve been rejected, and now the war is all against me. I hope only me”, he muttered, his gaze drifting off everywhere and anywhere. “I hope only me. If I brought you too into this… oh, no”.

“What do you mean, love?”, you asked quietly, firm eye contact on him, grabbing both his arms with so little space left between you. Such a nice comparison with the arm-length grab that still resonated on his shoulders. “What happened?”.

What happened? you asked him, and he thought that’s such a pure and raw form you showed his love to him. You weren’t asking what have you done even if he left all hints that he did wrong. You wouldn’t accuse him of wronging anything or anyone unless he himself would hand you the hard evidence proving that he was wrong. Was that love? Or blindness?

No, you weren’t blind. You understood he was wronging something. You noticed every quirk of his lips and eyebrows when he lied—and you ignored it. You acknowledged every bad he ever did to anyone—and also acknowledged his apologies. You weren’t blind, you didn’t see past it. You saw so much through it, that you understood his motives. And, for you, his motives were always enough.

That, right there, was love, Loki thought.

He was exhausted. All he had to do in there, did it hiding from Heimdall’s eye. And that form of magic left him drained as ever. He was tired from the fights and the bargains, from hiding, from showing himself too much, from having to do so many things and getting none done. He laid on bed and put his head over your abdomen. You caressed a few strands of his almost frozen raven locks, wet with melted snow. His hand trembled ever so slightly.

“Let us sleep and I'll tell you in the morning, alright?”.

When you woke up that next morning, the bed was empty again. But your heart relaxed as soon as you heard the kettle boiling on the small kitchen, a knife hitting against a plate —the sound of the fruit being cut, the bread getting toasted flying over the fire of the stovetop.

You got on your feet and walked there, lingering in the way in. He was barely dressed—a black boxer, that one with the grey lines that made his ass look amazing, a cotton sweater with a lit off tone of blue that made his eyes glow. His hair in a messy low bun that hardly got the curled hairs that fell shamelessly over his face.

He moved his hand and the toasts flew to a plate, right by the fruit. He served the water carefully on the teapot and just as he left it over the countertop again, you reached for his waist and planted a kiss on the nape of his neck.

“Morning, dear”.

“Morning, sweet”.

And there it was—that silence again. It lasted all breakfast, except for the innocuous what will you do today and his voice reading the papers out loud. He didn’t say what he did in Jötunheim but he seemed to remember it vividly. That emptiness in his eyes was now filled with terror. You remember him being terrified at the mention of one name, and one name only. And you were afraid the Mad Titan had something to do with it —once again.

He closed the paper over the table and looked at you fondly. Smiled softly, and grabbed your hands, drawing small circles with his thumbs. A halo of green lights surrounded you two, and you understood he was now hiding from Heimdall, again. He took in a gulp of air and got ready.

“I went to Jötunheim to claim my throne”.

You nodded, unable to hide surprise in your expressions. With raised eyebrows, your lips parted to form a,

“Oh?”.

“I had to take the chance. I messed up”.

“Why?”.

“I got rejected”.

That didn’t seem like it. He never got rejected in these things. He got defeated. He bargained with words and threats and what not more, with all the things he knew how to bargain in these situations, sharp as a knife, sharp as only he could be. He was terrified, of what? What stopped him in place? What froze the frost giant?

“What are you scared of?”, you asked in a whisper.

“They might take something or someone away”.

Freedom. He was scared of getting locked up again. He was scared of getting you away from him. He was scared of a million other things that seemed irrelevant in the face of those two options.

“They can’t lock you up, my love, you’ve done nothing wrong”.

“It’s treason to the crown”.

“Oh”, you nodded. “How would they find out? How are you hiding it?”.

“I spared my share of threats, enough for Laufey’s predecessors to not say a word”, he said lamely, “if they were wiser than they are. They’re a sack of oafs”.

“Alright”, you said, looking out the window. “Seems like there’s not much else for you to do, other than worry”. He sighed and came back to drawing circles in the back of your hands. “Join me on a mission, take your head off these matters”.

He smiled, and kissed your knuckles.

"We'll see".

“You’re being so stubborn”, you sighed, sitting on the couch. “We’ve talked about this over, and over, and over”.

“We talked about things over and over and not even once you have been completely honest”, he said, with that composed facade of him. “Not in this, not in anything”.

“I’m the one not being honest here, now?”, you inquired, looking up at him. He was standing in front of you. He frowned.

“What does that even mean? I’m always honest with you”.

“You’re either dishonest with me or with yourself. But we both know very well that you have no intention of…”.

“Oh, Norns. Again with that”.

“You brought it up”.

“I’m listening, then. Will you finally tell me what you actually think of it? Or will you melt your desires and adjust them until they solidify around whatever you think might please me?”, he spat with sarcasm.

“What are you even complaining about with that?”.

“I want you to be true to yourself, not some… Not some…”, he gestured with his hands, and you furrowed your brows.

“Not some what?”.

“Not some idiotic worshipper of some kind. You sound like a teen with a crush, rather than an adult partner building something here”, he said, and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. You got up from the couch.

“That’s what you truly think of me?”, you tried to keep your voice down. Anyone could hear you from the hallway. You tried —but you weren’t very successful. “I’m ready to give everything up for you and you think of it as a desperate attempt to worship you? You really think I think of yourself as a God who casually decided to be with me?”.

“No, that’s not…”, he rolled his eyes, but you kept talking.

“We worked so well together because we knew exactly what the other wanted and tried to get there without crushing the other one. And now…”.

“Worked?”, he scoffed. “We work. We might argue some time, but we work, my love. And that’s the point. We just have to find a way out of this mess, that wouldn’t get us even deeper in this disaster”.

You looked at him, looking for any trace of a lie. He wasn’t. He was truly calm, even though he had gotten on your nerves so well. He could have the same calmness to tell you how much he loved you and to tell you you were crushing his dreams with your thumb.

“I get what you say. I really do. But, is it really important to do whatever you’re thinking of doing to solve this? Or is this just your general… power thirsty blindness guiding you through?”.

He scoffed.

“Power thirsty blindness”, he repeated, incredulous. “I thought you understood every motive behind my actions”.

“I do. But you can’t deny half of the motives are wanting to rule the realms”.

“Half of the motives are you”, he raised his voice.

“That’s not true”, you matched his tone. “You’re playing a weird limbo where you say you’re giving up every dream you’ve ever had for me, letting the guilt eat me alive, and then just… going off somewhere to still try and get what you want. That’s not a relationship-guided motive. And it’d be okay if you could just come to terms with it. And then, and only then, we’d be able to talk through it better and find a better way to make it work. But so far, you haven’t been honest at all about it”.

“Why the need of being honest if you can apparently read me like a children's book?”, he said sarcastically. “Oh, and don’t even get me started with honesty, because…”.

“Because what?”.

He took a deep breath and composed himself back again, denying with his head, eyes closed as he figured out the right words or the right actions. He sat on the couch and asked you to sit by his side with a hand gesture.

“You know what? I think we’re really, really tired. This argument is getting nowhere and we’ll just feel bad afterwards. Can we talk about this in a more civilized way after we get some rest?”.

You sighed and sat by his side, still tense.

“Yes. Alright”.

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Out of the darkness

Damian Wayne x reader

Part 2 of In the Darkness

Warning: a bunch of different phobias explored. Like a bunch. It’s fear toxin and things are bad. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Damian Wayne was practical, classic, precise. He could tell you the time within 20 minutes of the actual time and the direction you were facing no matter where you were. He didn’t believe in getting lost. He mastered Bartok - Violin Concerto No. 2 on the violin at 11. He could identify the origin and use every weapon in the bat cave and many others as well. He many martial arts as well as having a impeccable eye for important details. Damian excelled at many things due to his training from birth to be the best he could.

Poison training and identifying was something that started early. His mother would slip tiny amounts of different chemicals in his food and drinks for him to build up a tolerance. Fear toxin was one of many that he’d developed a fairly high tolerance to. It was a deeply unpleasant experience and the training stopped immediately when Bruce took Damian in. Bruce had been completely horrified.

Currently Damian was half cognizant. He slipped between nightmares and the reality of the situation that wasn’t much better. He was strapped on a table in a cold concrete room. His head hurt and his feet were ungodly cold.

Damian attempted to focus. This is fake. The monsters are fake. I am in this room, he forced. He controlled his breathing as he was taught. His mind cleared long enough to slip from the ties. They were amateur at best. Damian pulled his legs free and he tried to stand.

The room spun and the ground grew heavy. Damian slipped to the ground with a groan. This particular batch of fear toxin was potent. Or was continuously streaming in. He searched for a vent. Top right corner. There wasn’t any green mist falling from it but it could be invisible. Damian steeled himself and stood up to walk to the door.

He tried the knob but it melted apart in his hand like sticky honey on a hot day. Damian gagged a little before trying to push the door open. No luck. The walls began to move inward. He was going to be crushed in the tiny space as it grew smaller.

No.

It was fake.

He tried the knob again and it didn’t turn but it didn’t turn into goo. The wall wasn’t collapsing inward. He could escape. He just needed to work on it.

Your scream pierced his ears and he gasped. He had to save you now. He could hear you through the vent. He could use the vent.

Was it really you, his mind questioned as he shoved the old metal hospital bed towards the wall. The metal groaned before scraping the floor. Damian had no way of knowing if it was really you or his mind.

Damian climbed on the bed and grasped at the grate. The old metal bolts bit into his fingers as he twisted them out. Finally the grate fell on the bed. If Damian did a little jump, he could probably pull himself upwards. It was a blessing and a curse that he had grown so much in a relatively short time. He was pushing 6 foot tall and could reach the grate but weighing 180 lbs, could it hold him?

A menacing laugh filled the air and Damian froze in fear.

He turned to look around and was still alone.

But you might not be.

He jumped up and slid in the air conditioner duct. It was a tight fit. Damian was still smaller than his dad and at the moment was grateful. Bruce would have never fit. Of course, Drake could have slipped through easily. He pushed those thoughts aside.

Damian had no phone. No flash light. Complete darkness. He couldn’t turn around. He was just snaking his way towards the sound he heard of your voice. If it was even you.

It was you.

You were strapped to a hospital bed with leather belts. The material chafed your skin as you tried to yank away. You screamed for Damian. His name fell pitifully from your lips. You’d have no previous experience with any fear toxin and your first instinct was to scream. You could feel the way each scream ripped at your throat.

Damian had told you about his older brother, Father’s ward as he would say when mad. An old warehouse, murdered by the joker but punished with fear toxin first. Jason Todd talked in a smoker’s rasp. He didn’t smoke but the constant screaming had ruined his throat. You could feel the pain in your vocal cords but couldn’t stop.

The Manor was fake. The family there was fake. The room you currently lay in was real. Far too real. The damp musty air and bone trembling cold felt perfectly real.

The spiders crawling on your skin felt real too. You shrieked and tremors shook your body as you tried to throw them off. Tiny hairy legs brushed against your arms. Your face. You clamped your mouth and eyes closed.

If they climbed in your mouth... if they bit you... if they were poisonous. If the manor was fake and this room was real.... the spiders were real.

Damian cursed when you went silent. What direction was he traveling. How far was it till your room? Were you even here? No. He couldn’t think like that. He was already barely above a panic as the vent felt way too small, too tight.

Your violent struggles had one good side effect. The badly placed straps came loose. One hand yanked free and you scrubbed at your face, feeling no real spiders. You untied yourself other hand and tried to get up.

The bed shook and you panicked as you tried to pull your feet free. Cold icy laughter filled your ears and you clenched at your head to keep them out. You pulled free and fell to the floor. Icy water soaked through the knees of your pants and you shivered.

The room was so dim that you could barely see anything as you crawled on the floor. There was no way you could handle standing up. You slid your hands along the ground, touching bits of broken glass and small rocks. They bit into your palm and knees as you moved along. You felt along before feeling nothing. A drop.

You yanked your body back. The floor fell out smoothly. There was nothing in front of you. You grabbed a small stone and tossed it to hear the depth. You concentrated on listening and heard nothing. No sound? You tossed another to hear a similar lack of sound. The hole must be incredible deep.

You slowly slid backwards and turned to your right. Perhaps the hole wasn’t everywhere. You had to get out. You took about 10 paces forward? Maybe. It’s hard to tell when you keep hearing wings fluttering. The ground also stopped with an abrupt fall. The hole must be massive. You crawled back to the bed. It was the only thing visible in the dim light from a high dirty window.

The flapping sounds grew louder and you could almost hearing the fluttering of birds, no bats, right near your ears. You shrieked and swung your arms out to stop them. You could imagine little teeth and claws tearing at your skin. This seemed to make them furious and they hit and nipped your skin. You covered your head with your hands and cried out for Damian.

He heard your pitiful cry. He was going in the right direction. He hurried along the vent. He had no weapon. He was poisoned with fear toxin. And he had no idea what the location looked like. He was also completely blind in the dark vent. Father would have called this unfavorable odds indeed.

The vent took a slight turn and Damian gasped as something dug into his hand. He felt at it with his other hand. A thin metal cylinder connected to a large plastic cylinder that flared out. A syringe. He had a syringe in his hand. Ignoring the disease potential, it really showed how little he could see.

Damian’s hands shook as he pulled the needle from his flesh and he stifled a groan. He had no way of wrapping his hand. He also had another problem: feel for more syringes or turn around and go back to the room where he would be trapped once again. He grimaced before reaching his hand out slowly. There were more syringes. This time he didn’t get stabbed. He grabbed them and pushed them behind his body before slowly pushing forward. This was taking too long.

If you fell in the pit, not even Damian could save you. You felt like you were on a ledge. The world was pushing you to the hole. You grasped the frame of the bed tightly. Your grip on sanity was getting looser and you clung to the idea that Damian had to rescue you. He would fix things.

Damian could no longer slowly feel his way through. The vent felt tighter and hotter and harder to breath in. He was panting and he began crawling faster. You were definitely in trouble the way you were practically crying for him. Syringes bit at his skin in little nicks before one sunk into the flesh of his thigh right above his knee. Damian groaned and yanked it out.

But luck was in his side as he started to see light. The vent opened to another room. Barely visible was a bed and a figure on it. It had to be you crying. Your body shook as you bent over your legs, your head in your hands.

Damian pushed open the vent roughly and jumped in the room.

He was with the League of Assassins. Damian was a small boy again. He fell to his knees as his grandfather held a sword under his throat. Damian was powerless. Tears streamed down his face despite himself.

“You are only alive at my leisure,” Ra’s told him. Damian held back tears as he stared at the older man. “You are a disgrace and I intend to beat it out of you.”

The blade was removed and a boot replaced it. Damian was kicked to the ground and the older man kicked him in the ribs and stomach. He cried out involuntarily. His nose was broken. Sticky warm blood flowed into his open mouth as he sucked in a breath. Damian’s mother stood to the side, watching passively.

This isn’t real. It isn’t real. It’s a bad memory. Fear toxin just fear toxin.

Damian took several deep breaths; quite difficult when he felt the breaking of his ribs. He opened his eyes to see the room. And you crying in the bed. He moved on the bed to grab you.

“Don’t,” you cried as you pulled away. Your pupils were blown and he could see your chest rise and fall heavily.

“It’s me. Damian. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to save you,” he said trying to be gentle. His own heartbeat was flying and he kept hearing the laughter of the Joker that he was 80% sure was fake.

You looked at him warily. Once sure that it was Damian, you flung your arms around him.

“There’s a hole. In the middle of the room. It has to be huge,” you said quickly. You shook like a leaf.

“A pit. Smart,” Damian commented. He really wished he had his night vision goggles. He couldn’t see anything more than a foot from the bed.

There was the sounds of screaming and fighting outside the door. A door. He could finally see a door. It must skirt right next to the edge of this damn pit. How could he get you to carefully walk around it when you were so lost in the toxin?

“I found a door. We have to go. I’ll help you. I’ll help,” he said trying to stand. You grasped at him tighter.

“No! The pit. The pit. You’ll fall. Don’t,” you pleaded, shaking your head side to side violently.

“It’s okay. We’ll be careful. We’ll be okay,” he said before pulling you up. Damian bent to the ground and started crawling. You grasped at the back of his shirt tightly. “We’ll go slow.”

Damian tried to ignore the feeling that he was on a ledge about to fall. Which was weird since he literally jumped from rooftops all the time. He never had fear of heights. You shivered and clung to him. The gaping hole seemed to want to swallow you whole. What was at the bottom? Would you fall forever, scraping at the slick walls until you lost your mind? Would you die quickly? Or was it a slow death as your broken body fell apart?

Damian edged you to the door and prayed that it was unlocked. It wasn’t but the knob was loose. He rolled his eyes and easily pulled it apart. He tossed it in the hole and couldn’t help but listen for the sound of it crashing. It never came. Was it a hole to infinity? He couldn’t think that way. He pulled you into the hallway. It was dimly lit but enough to stand up.

He was back at the League. He was not a little boy any more. His grandfather was on his deathbed. He grabbed Damian’s hand unnaturally tightly. Damian could see the gold and green clothing on his own arm.

“I knew you couldn’t leave. You were always my flesh and blood. Now you will lead the assassins. Your time with your father couldn’t break you from your true self. You’re an assassin. Why try to pretend to be something else? You will always be a killer,” the old man chuckled.

Damian yanked his hand free. “You’re wrong. I’m nothing like you,” he growled and wrapped his fingers around his grandfather’s throat. The old man held Damian’s wrists and pushed his hand harder against his windpipe. He had an awful grin on his face despite being choked.

Suddenly smaller softer hands gripped Damian’s wrists and tried to pull back. Tried to pull him off. Damian saw your lips make a small o as you tried to breathe. He dropped his hands instantly and you gasped in a breath. Damian’s hands ran along your face worried he had killed you.

No...Just a bruise. He could have.

He could have killed you.

He had to get you out. Was this real? Was anything real? Damian felt his grip on reality loosen. He grabbed your hand to pull you along but you almost fell over. Damian put his arm around your waist and half carried you along.

It wasn’t long until his legs began to shake from your extra weight and Damian was panting. Normally he could carry you around with no problem but hours? Days? of fear toxin had him absolutely exhausted. The only thing he was certain of was that it was night. Was it the same night as the movie? That felt weeks ago.

He powered through to a set of double doors. He was almost gasping for breath. Damian kicked them open with his foot and he was blinded by light.

It wasn’t night.

It was a well lit warehouse and there was a battle being fought. Batman kicked a guy in a ski mask to the ground and he didn’t get up. Nightwing swooped in and wrapped a rope around a guy who ended up hanging from the ceiling by his leg before he could react. Damian couldn’t see but hear Red Hood kick someone off the second floor delivery dock before the sound of gunshot.

He almost dropped you as he slid down the wall to the floor. You fell against him and gasped. Your eyes showed that you weren’t really there. You were still fighting the poison that threatened to pull Damian back under. You both were so vulnerable just sitting there. He knew he should move but his body just couldn’t.

Red Robin jumped down from a box with his staff in hand. He walked close and Damian looked away when his face split into a gaping blackness. It was fake. It was fake. It was only Drake.

“Hey buddy,” Red Robin said gingerly, walking slowly towards you both. He pulled out a small black leather bag. He pulled out a syringe and Damian wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He couldn’t get up but he tried to shield you.

“Don’t,” Damian tried to say with authority but it came out so softly. He couldn’t protect you. He failed.

“It’s okay. You just need to sleep. You’ll be okay,” Drake said. He popped off the syringe cover and grabbed Damian’s waving arm and gave him the shot despite his groans. Drake pulled out another syringe and gave one to you. You shrieked as you imagined a poison was being shoved into your skin. A green mark spread like tree branches beneath your skin and you clawed at your skin. In just a minute your hands dropped and you both fell asleep.

——————————

You woke in a med bay. A plain hospital bed in a cave. Damian was in the bed next to you and you quickly sat up.

“Slow,” said a woman. She offered a hand and you pulled away. “Don’t fall.”

Damian stirred and sat up too. He took a look at you and the woman and relaxed. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. You looked at them warily. You’d thought you’d gotten out once.

“It’s done,” he said.

“Yes. You are safe,” she said.

“Cass, where is everyone? What happened?”

“Hold on,” she said motioning for you both to sit. She came back with none other than Bruce Wayne. Normally you would very nervous but you were too tired to care.

“How are you feeling?” He asked walking in to sit on the single chair in the room. Cass left the room. After he was sure that you were physically fine, he explained what happened.

“Scarecrow attacked Wayne tower. Luckily Batman was able to help find you both. It was fear toxin. It can make you see some really nasty things. I have a psychologist that specializes in childhood trauma in retainer. I’d highly suggest you both visit them. But you are safe. You’ve been given antitoxin. Do you have any questions?” He asked. His voice was even and purposefully soft. You shook your head. You were too overwhelmed to consider a single question.

“Did Batman catch Scarecrow?” Damian asked leaning his body over his bent knees. His face had one of his murderous looks. You noticed bandages on his fingers and across one palm. He had a thigh wrapped in gauze.

“No. Not yet.”

Damian’s hands curled into fists. “I hope he does.”

“Of course. Relax. Watch some television. I’ve already contacted your parents that you will be staying here for a few days. I’ll let you take the lead on what to tell them when you go home and I’ll help with any conversation,” Bruce said standing up. He stood by the doorway before leaving. “I’m glad you are both back home safe.”

Damian turned on something on the television mindlessly and sat stiffly in his bed. There was too much space and you felt alone. After a few minutes, you couldn’t help it but climb in his bed and slide into his arms. You hugged him tightly and he slung an arm over you. His eyes never left the show but you could feel him relax. You relaxed a little more. His hand ran across your back soothingly. For you or him, you couldn’t know. After a while you fell asleep on him. His heartbeat soothed the nightmares running through your mind.

Robin was gone for all of 3 days before being seen on the streets of Gotham. He hit harder and was more vicious. He found Scarecrow within 12 hours and almost beat him to death. The villain laid in Arkham in a coma for over a month.