「YOUR BOYFRIENDS A LAME」- RANDY JR J

He was perfectly polite, shook his hand, smiled, asked him a couple questions, the whole thing.

But the second your boyfriend walked away to get something, randy looked at you and just went, “…him?” you immediately started laughing because you knew exactly what that meant.

“What’s wrong with him?” you asked, and randy just shrugged.

“Nothing. i just don’t like him.” and that was somehow the entire explanation.

You guys were on your ways to Jaafar’s birthday party and there was no room in the back seat so Randy let you seat on his lap. You got cozy inhaling each other’s scent while your boyfriend stared at y’all upset.

“Cmon Randy he just wants me to pick up his package. It’s not that far.” Randy shook his head. “A real man would get it himself. What if he’s trying to set you up?” You rolled your eyes at him.

He was having a great day. Actually. He didn’t even mind when you mentioned your boyfriend. Until he walked into your house and Randy’s whole demeanor changed. Now he’s just sounds bored.

“I feel like I can never tell him how I feel. It’s like he doesn’t care or understand me.” Your head was on Randy’s chest while he caressed the back of your head listen to you vent.

Your boyfriend was laughing at something you said and Randy just side eyed him clearly disliking his happiness.

He just looks at you and tells you that he doesn’t care if you stay with your boyfriend or not, it’s your choice.

But if you’re ever unhappy or feel like you’re being treated badly, he wants you to know you can come to him. because underneath all the arguing and petty comments, he’s still your best friend first.

“You wanna watch me a movie and cuddle?” He asked you and of course you said yes. He put on the movie ‘clueless’ and you were on top of him laying your head on his chest while he rubbed your back. An hour later the tv has the ‘Are you still watching?’ Message on it cause now Randy was now face deep into your pussy.

He laps at you like he's starving—broad strokes, then pointed flicks at your clit, then his lips closing around it and sucking hard.

“Ohhh—fuck—Randy—!”

“That's it,” he mumbles, the words buzzing against you. “Let me hear you. Take what you need.”

“You taste better than I imagined,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in. The sight of him, mouth glistening with your wetness, eyes heavy-lidded and dark—nearly makes you come on the spot. “And I imagined it so many times.”

He doesn’t let up. He eats you like a man possessed, alternating between fucking you with his tongue and sucking your clit until you're writhing under him. Your fingers twist in his hair. Your thighs clamp around his head.

“Uhnn—fuck, I'm cumming!”

Your boyfriend is somewhere nearby, talking to Randy's sister near the grill, probably ignoring you again. He showed up with you, but he’s been anti. Randy is in the pool too, closer than he should be, watching you over the rim of his red plastic cup.

Your swimsuit top is the problem. The strings have loosened themselves, the knot at your neck slipping, and you keep having to press the fabric against your chest to keep from flashing the entire party. You catch Randy’s eye, and he’s already moving towards you.

“Need help?” he asks, wading over. Water beads on his chest, rolls down the lean muscle of his stomach, disappearing into his dark swim trunks. His skin is sun-warmed and glistening.

“The knot didn’t hold,” you say, turning your back to him. “I need to retie it.”

“Can’t do it here.” His voice is low, close to your ear. “It’s all twisted. C’mon. I know a spot.”

Next thing you know you’re getting dicked down in the bathroom.

“This what you needed?” he growls, pulling out slow, then slamming back in. “Needed me to fix more than just your suit, huh?”

“Yes—fuck—yes!”

He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against your ass, one hand anchored on your hip and the other covering your mouth. His cock drives into you hard enough that the sink is shaking. The mirror fogs. You can see his reflection over your shoulder.

“Gotta be quiet,” he warns, but his own breath is ragged. “Or maybe I should let ‘em hear. Let what's-his-face hear how good you take my dick.”

You moan into his palm, and the sound vibrates through him. He fucks you harder, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust.

“Play with your clit,” he orders. “Want you to cum on my dick while he’s out there lookin' for you.”

You obey, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles. The pleasure coils fast, too fast. He hits that spot inside you every time, and his grunts are hot at your ear.

“That’s it—squeeze me—come for me, baby.”

You shatter and your orgasm rips through you, your cunt clamping down on him like a fist, a muffled scream dying in his palm. He fucks you through it, hips stuttering, then buries himself deep and spills himself inside you with a raw, broken groan. You can feel him pulsing, hot and thick, filling you.

“Talk to me,” he says.

So you do. The whole drive. You pace the words out between breaths, how your boyfriend thinks Randy is a problem, how he doesn't trust you, how he doesn't listen, how he'll never understand. Randy's jaw is tight the whole time, his free hand white-knuckling the wheel. He doesn't interrupt. He just lets you talk.

Eventually, he parks somewhere dark and empty. He cuts the engine. The silence in the car is thick and waiting.

“Come here,” he says.

You crawl across the console into his lap, and when he pulls you in, you crumble. He holds you while you cry, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other splayed over your lower back. His mouth presses to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your eye, tasting salt.

“I got you,” he mutters. “I always got you.”

Then his lips find yours, and it's not gentle. It's desperate, messy, all tongue and teeth and months of being the one you call. You gasp into his mouth and grind down against him, and he groans, hips bucking up to meet you. The steering wheel digs into your back, but you don't care.

“He doesn't deserve to even look at you,” he rasps between kisses. His hands slide up under your shirt, yanking at the hem, pulling it over your head. “Let alone touch you.”

You guys end up in the backseat fucking.

“Oh—fuck—” you moan, hands braced on his shoulders.

He grabs your hips and drives up into you. The pace is brutal from the start, like he's trying to fuck every trace of that other man out of you. The car bounces. You can hear the wet squelch of your cunt, the slap of skin, the obscene creak of the old leather seats. His mouth is on your throat, your collarbone, biting at your nipple through your bra.

“Say my name,” he growls.

“Randy—Randy—!”

“That’s right. Not his. Mine.”

He slams up into you, and you come hard, your whole body shaking, a wail pushing out of you that he swallows with a kiss. Before you can come down, he's still going, grinding into your oversensitive cunt from below, growling low in his chest.

“You're not goin' back there tonight,” he says. “You're comin' home with me.”

You've been wound up all day. Every time you shift, your clit rubs against the seam of your shorts. You press your thighs together, but it doesn't help. Randy notices. He tilts his head down, lips brushing your ear.

“What's wrong?” he whispers, barely audible.

“Nothing.”

“Don't lie to me.” His hand drops from the back of the couch to your leg, squeezing just above the knee. “You're squirming.”

You look at him, and he sees it in your face. His jaw tightens. He glances around the dark room. No one is watching. The movie is loud.

“You need to be touched?” he murmurs.

You nod, a tiny, desperate thing.

He shifts, settling his hand over yours, and then gently moves it aside. His fingers replace yours, pressing against the damp fabric of your shorts. The pressure alone makes you exhale shakily. He hooks his thumb under the hem and inches the material aside, his knuckles brushing your slick cunt. You're soaked.

“All this from watchin' a movie?” he teases, so low only you can hear. “Or is it 'cause I'm right here?”

He slips one finger inside you without preamble, and you clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan. Your boyfriend is three feet away, his back to you on the floor. The thought makes you clench around Randy's finger. He feels it and groans under his breath.

“Fuck, you're tight.”

He adds a second finger, and your head drops back against the couch. His palm grinds against your clit while his fingers curl up. The wet sounds are hidden under the movie's sounds, but they're all you can hear. You're shaking, trying so hard to stay still, but your hips are rocking into his hand.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, lips at your temple. “Gotta be quiet for me, baby. You can do that, right?”

You nod frantically, biting down on your lip hard enough to hurt. He speeds up, pumping into you, and the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter.

“Cum for me,” he whispers. “Quiet as you can. Let me feel it.”

You shatter around his fingers, body arching, a strangled whimper caught in your throat. Your cunt flutters and pulses, and he works you through it, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to keep you riding the edge. Your eyes roll back.

“Good girl,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “So fucking good.”

The credits roll. The lights come up. Your boyfriend turns around, and you're sitting there, flushed and glazed, legs pressed together. He asks if you want more pizza. You shake your head, voice entirely gone.

Randy just stretches, licking his fingers like he's savoring something sweet. “I could eat,” he says, but his eyes are on you.

You're lying on your boyfriend’s bed, scrolling your phone, bare legs tangled in his sheets. Through the wall, you can hear him in the kitchen, water running, pans clinking, the faint sizzle of oil. He's making pasta.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Randy.

The preview shows a video. You open it before you think. He's in his bedroom, sprawled on his back, grey boxers pushed down to his thighs. His dick is thick and flushed in his fist, slick with pre-cum, and he's stroking himself slow and loose. The camera catches the way his abs tighten when he swipes his thumb over the head. A low groan rumbles through the speaker.

“Thinkin' about you,” his voice says, strained and deep. “Wish this was your pussy.”

Your face goes hot. Your pussy clenches. You should stop watching. You should delete it and pretend you never saw it. But you don't. You replay it. Twice.

This is so wrong, you think, but your hand is already sliding down your stomach, under the waistband of the shorts you borrowed from your boyfriend. You're wet already, the slick heat of your cunt coating your fingers.

You take the phone and angle it. The video records. Your fingers slide through your folds, spreading yourself open for the camera. You moan softly, catching it on the mic. Your hips rock into your hand, and you think about Randy. You shove two fingers inside yourself, biting your tongue to keep quiet.

“Fuck,” you whisper into the phone. “Wish that was you inside me.”

You send the video back before you can talk yourself out of it. Then you wait, chest heaving, heart pounding. From the kitchen comes the sound of your boyfriend humming to himself, oblivious.

Your phone buzzes again. A message this time.

When you get home, I'm ruinin' you.

You don't need dinner anymore. You need a reason to leave. You tell him you have something to do early morning. He's disappointed, but he believes you.

“He finished in like five minutes, and I just—I didn't—and then I felt bad, and he fell asleep, and I—"

“Slow down.” Randy takes your face in his hands, thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones. “What's the problem?”

“I didn't cum.” You say it bluntly, your voice rough with frustration. “He never finishes the job. He think he does, but he doesn't, and I'm so tired of it.”

Something dark flickers in his eyes. His hands drop to your waist, pulling you closer. His body is hot against yours.

“He couldn't finish the job,” he echoes, and there's no teasing in his voice now. Just quiet fury. “But I can.”

He walks you to the bedroom, his mouth barely an inch from yours. The bed hits the backs of your knees, and he lays you down, following you onto the mattress. His hands are already on your bottoms, dragging them down with your panties in one pull.

“You came to the right place,” he says, dropping to his knees between your legs. “I'm gonna make sure you never have to fake it again.”

He doesn't even bother with his clothes. He just unzips his jeans, pushes them down enough to free his cock, and strokes it once, twice. The head is already wet. He lines himself up, and then he's inside you in one long, smooth thrust.

The stretch is perfect, the fullness immediate. You gasp, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders. He doesn't wait for you to adjust. He fucks you with sure, deep strokes, each one hitting that spot that makes the base of your spine tingle. The bed creaks. His breathing is harsh in your ear.

“This is what you needed,” he grunts. “Someone who knows how to take care of you. Someone who cares whether you get off.”

You're already close. The heat's been simmering since you left the other man's bed, and Randy knows it. He reaches down and rubs your clit in tight, rough circles, and within a minute your orgasm slams into you like a wall of fire. You scream, back arching, oussy clamping down on him so hard he groans and has to stop moving for a second.

“Fuck—there it is,” he rasps. “See? How hard was that?”

He takes you to the overlook. It's an hour from anywhere, up a winding road that makes your stomach flip, past the last streetlight and into the kind of dark that makes the stars look close enough to touch. The car stops at a gravel turnoff, the city glittering far below like scattered coins.

“Get out,” he says, but he's smiling.

He pops the trunk and pulls out a thick flannel blanket, then spreads it over the hood of the car. He's on you before you can shiver, lifting you onto the blanket, stepping between your thighs.

“This has been a long time comin',” he says, running his hands up under your coat. “All those nights I had to watch you with him.”

His mouth finds yours, warm and urgent. You kiss him back with everything you've got, fingers going to his belt, then the buttons of his jeans. He tugs your pants down over your hips, helping you kick them off into the cold grass. The shock of the night air against your bare skin makes you gasp, but then he's inside you and the cold doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the heat of him.

“From now on,” he growls against your collarbone, “you're mine. You understand? No more pretending.”

“Yes,” you moan. “Yours.”

He fucks you on the hood of that car, under a sky full of stars, his body covering yours. His hand cradles the back of your head so you don't hit the metal. His mouth never leaves your skin. The world narrows to the sound of skin on skin, the slick heat of your cunt around him, the whisper of the pines in the wind.

“I love you,” he says, and the words seem to shake something loose in both of you. “I've loved you for years, and I'm not sorry.”

You cum with his name on your lips, tears freezing on your cheeks, and he follows a heartbeat later, buried as deep as he can get. The stars blur above you. The city blinks indifferently below.

And when he pulls out and wraps you in the blanket, carrying you back to the passenger seat, he stops and cups your face in his hands.

“I waited,” he says. “And now I'm never waitin' again.”

dangerous sun, off the wall moon, invincible rising

mine is backwards: off the wall ☼, dangerous ☾ , invincible ↑

bad sun, thriller moon, dangerous rising 🫶🏾

To ride in the car after date night with MJ knowing you bouta get rammed into orbit...

Wine drunk, pussy just falling off the bone, feeling over the erection in his pants knowing he's aching to free it because he's hung like a horse, your mouth wet & warm and ready to eat his dick up, deepthroating him until you gag (which he loves to keep his fingers inside you while you do it, because when you gag your pussy squirts all over his huge hands!) - before y'all make out on the couch can't even make it to the bed - and you turn around to ride PON DI COCKY - with your ass facing him, reaching down grabbing his ankles while he grips your waist so you won't fall and you take it all, hearing his groans but only being able to see his penny loafers just makes your pussy clench up on him ever harder hearing him hiss while he watches your cheeks just bouncing up and down on his girthy length, his thumb in your ASSHOLE, feeling like you're on a trampoline in HEAVEN!!!!!!!!

I just KNOW Clark is the type to talk sweet while he's fucking you so good.

“Aw, baby, I know, I know I'm so big. But look how your pretty pussy stretches for me,” he coos as he watches your poor, puffy cunt struggle as his fat cock opens you up.

You're so snug around him, your gummy walls squeezing him as he fucks you deep. You can feel the thick shaft of him pressing against your g-spot.

You gasp and whine, your hands splayed over his wide, solid back, feeling the sweaty skin there, his strong muscles rippling with every thrust.

Clark shudders when your nails dig into his shoulder blades, the slight pain sending heat down to his groin.

“Yeah, baby, that's okay. ‘s okay if you scratch me. ‘s okay if you bite me. You're taking so much right now,” he says gently, as if comforting you. And then he angles his hips so he fills you completely.

“Clark! Clark!” You squeal. You feel him all the way in you, the engorged head brushing against your cervix, the rest of him stretching your warm walls.

Clark feels it too, the way your cunt barely fits him. “Oh, baby. You're so open, so good around my cock. You're such a good girl.” He presses messy, open-mouthed kisses across your jawline. “My perfect girl.”

Clark Kent masterlist

---

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - if you wanna be added to my Clark Kent taglist, lmk <3

@booboobear-12 @savvysavsblog13 @donnadiddadog @kryptidfiles @tysukier @animegamerfox @absolutelybloodyhopeless @teenytinylilcrawdaddies @simpingreader @ultimatewolverine @justheretoreadmydear @lovexbunny @jazlinda @dolleciita @tinawantstobeadoll @preciselyshifts @soapygel @kissmxcheek @callmesukuna @rayamaya @fae-dreamer-99 @heynanasposts @paddockspookie42 @lilychristine01 @chronic-fangirl-222 @sunnyteume @take-it-on-the-run @ninikrumbs @smzyyx @floweryangelll @tsreader @gettingprettyfvckintired @cherryresidence @mollymal @xandra-warrior-princess @wiitchesterr @mingyuziiiii @opalesquegirl @strkycrnswt @inside--her--fantasy @kodzuminx @aetherialgeek @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diseasedclitoris @for-smut @soggywhore @unabashedlyinlovewithyou @sunmooner @elijahhewsonswifelol @kryptidfiles

“Michael… I’m Married.”

pairing: bad!michael jackson x black fem!reader

wc: 5,6k+

summary: He was shameless. Even the day of your wedding to his best friend wasn’t off limits.

warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, no use of y/n, cheating, infidelity, pet names, michael loves being the side piece and he’s greedy af too, oral (m receiving), dub-con (if you squint), spit, choking, soft (?) dom michael, back shots, unprotected p in v, tummy bulge, praise kink, possessive!michael, lowkey toxic!michael but you don’t want to be saved

disclaimer: this one is a little nastier than MFM. i couldn’t stop my fingers from typing this. it’s longer than i would’ve liked bc i entered a flow state on the stairmaster smh. proofread but im human so mistakes happen. fuck ai. i don’t know that bitch.

dividers by @pixopix

act two

jackie Jackson x black reader

The scent of gardenias and freshly polished mahogany filled Hayvenhurst, a fragrant mask for the rot and disrespect brewing inside. Your normally impeccable hair was now tied up in a ponytail and you wore sweatpants and a regular shirt as you marched past the heavy oak doors, your homegirl liyah your best friend right beside you. "Are you sure you want to do this here?" Liyah murmured, her eyes flicking to the staff pretending not to stare.

"Oh, absolutely," your voice was like super serious and yet so soft. You had spent weeks ignoring the whispers, the photos, the lipstick stain on his jacket that he didn’t notice was there. But the article that morning, the one with the grainy photo of jackie with that woman was the absolute breaking point. "I’m always over here so they shouldn’t expect any funny business goin’ on over here, all ima do is talk to him and break up with him. simple.” You said with a slight shrug of your shoulders, talk to him? Girl you were planning on doing more than talking.

You stopped in front of the ornate drawing room doors, the source of the low-pitched laughter that turned your stomach. You took a deep breath as you pushed the doors open. Jackie sat near the fireplace, the light of the crystal chandelier catching the shine on his leather pants. A few of his brothers and their hangers-on were there, but the room felt suddenly empty when you walked in. The laughter died, strangled in their throats. Jackie’s head snapped up, the smug smile sliding right off his face. "baby, what are you..." His voice was smooth that practiced charm that used to make you melt now it just made your skin crawl and feel like bugs were crawling on you.

You walked straight toward him, your heels clicking a sharp, unforgiving rhythm on the parquet floor. Your eyes locked onto his giving him that “don’t bullshit me” look. You didn’t look at anyone else in that room. "Get up," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the room clearer than a shout.

He stood up shifting uncomfortably a flicker of guilt trying to hide behind his eyes. He started to reach out for you to hold your hands or something to just keep you calm for the meantime. "Baby, look, about the papers it's not what it looks like, it's all med-"

"get the fuck up,” you interrupted, the ice shattering into raw, unfiltered anger you grabbed him by his ear pulling the fuck out his ear dragging him out the room into a empty room away from everyone else that was watching with curious eyes, especially marlon messy ass who was smiling ear to ear. "ouuwe he in trouble man,” marlon said nudging Jermaine’s shoulder who only laughed.

“ow ow, what the hell are you doin” he said once you closed the door behind you, you practically threw him in there by his ear finally letting him go after squeezing his ear for dear life. “you think I don’t know you sleepin’ with that sierra bitch?, you think you can just do whatever you want cause you got you a lil money now?” You said picking up a nearby book throwing it at him which he dodged, you were now standing directly on the other side of the table while he was on the other side running from you.

“what– whatchu’ talking about? who is sierra?” He asked trying his very best to act confused, of course he knew who the hell sierra was that was one of the girls he had back at his hotel while he was doing another tour with his brothers. “baby I don’t know that girl-“

“all you do is fucking lie, cheat, drop dick on other bitches, and come home tryna sell me with them weak ass lies like I’m some other woman to you!” You yelled at him throwing another book at him which he dodged again. “Fuck you! You been cheatin on me and fucking them other girls while I’m at home bending my back cooking and shit for you just for your stupid ass to be out there cheating?! you got me on the blogs looking stupid like im some low life ho! nigga don’t you ever try to play me!"you yelled, the whole entire house hearing you, not that you really cared.

the rest of the brothers in the other room were dead silent before Michael innocently decided to just break the silence. “so uh… anyone wanna play twister?” He asked which made everyone else decide to just play and get it over with to block out the noise of you snapping at jackie. Your friend liyah sat awkwardly on the couch trying not to laugh.

Now back with you and jackie, Before the last word could fully leave your mouth, you ducked around the mahogany coffee table, catching him completely off guard. Jackie tried to backpedal, his hands coming up in a defensive surrender, but you were already in his space. You slapped the shit out that man.

The slap cracked like a whip in the enclosed room, the sheer force of it snapping his head to the side. The sting radiated all the way up your arm but you didn't even care. He stumbled back against the wall, one hand flying up to cup his reddening cheek, his chest heaving as he stared at you with wide shocked eyes.

"You really thought you could pull fast ones on me, Jackie?" you hissed, stepping right back into his personal space, chest to chest, completely unfazed by his height. "You think cause you got a little fame, lil motown shit you got goin on, and some screaming fans that you can treat me like some groupie off the street?"

"Baby, chill—" he choked out, his voice dropping an octave, trying to use that smooth, quiet register he knew usually broke down your walls. His hand reached out to cup your hip, desperate to pull you close, but you snatched yourself away so hard he almost lost his balance. "Don't you touch me with the same hands you had on Sierra!" you yelled, pointing a manicured finger right in his face. "I gave you my best jackie. I held this house down, kept your name clean, loved your stupid ass when the cameras were off and you went and made me a laughingstock on every damn blog in the country knowin these motherfuckas already don’t like me with you!, saying you better of with a Hollywood goody toe shoes girl!, fuck you!” You snapped.

His smooth facade was completely gone now, stripped away by the raw truth of your pain. The smirk was dead it replaced by a desperate panicked look in his eyes as he realized he was actually losing you. He pressed his back against the wall, looking down at you all the cockiness drained right out of him.

"I fucked up," he whispered, his voice cracking "I fucked up, alright? I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry—"

"I don’t wanna hear that shit," you spat, taking two steps back and adjusting your silk blazer, cold as ice once again. "Keep your money, keep your lies, and keep Sierra. I’m packing my shit, and by the time you walk back out to your brothers, you better pretend I never existed, and don’t bring yo ass to my apartment.”

You turned on your heel, leaving him standing alone against the wall, rubbing his burning jaw as the heavy doors clicked shut behind you, you yelled out for liyah to come on. “liyah! Let’s go ion’ got time for this, over here running my blood pressure up and shit.” You said storming out the house walking past the brothers completely ignoring the staring eyes and silence. “girlll what happened?” liyah asked falling into step beside you as you both walked out the house not looking back at all. And that was the very last time you ever saw jackie in the last three months.

Three whole months. Ninety days of radio silence on your end, but complete, desperate madness on his.

Jackie was going through it, down so bad it was almost painful to watch. True to your word, he didn't pull up to your apartment he knew if he crossed that final line and showed up on your doorstep unannounced, he’d lose whatever chance he had left. So instead he poured all that restless, regretful energy into blowing up your phone, sending endless delivery trucks to your building, and staring at the house phone hoping you’d finally call him back which you never did.

First came the flowers. Huge, ridiculous bouquets of white roses and gardenias—your favorite—flooding your building's lobby until the doorman had to start politely turning them away. Then came the designer boxes, handwritten cards, and gold jewelry, each one accompanied by a note begging for just five minutes of your time. “Please, baby. Just let me talk to you.” “I miss you so much please come by hayvenhurst so we can talk properly.” “can I please take you to dinner? I’m thinking about you so much and I’m so sorry baby those girls didn’t mean anything.”

You left every single call on read, sent every voicemail straight to voicemail and gave the gifts away to your homegirls and your neighbors. each time they asked you just brushed it off saying, “ngh,” you said through gritted teeth with a soft laugh “just tryna get rid of some stuff I don’t want or need in my life anymore.” But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hurt, you genuinely did feel sadness and hurt because how could a person who claims to love you so much cheat on you? It didn’t make sense to you at all.

Meanwhile, back at Hayvenhurst, jackie had lost his damn mind. He sat at the kitchen table a pen in hand aggressively crossing out words on heavy cardstock paper. He was on his fifth draft of a letter looking uncharacteristically disheveled in a grey hoodie twirling the pen after crossing out words thinking of what else to say.

Marlon casually strolled into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the counter before leaning over jackie’s shoulder. His eyes widened. "Oh man... look at this," Marlon laughed. “man that girl slapped the wind outta you and you still want her back?” He asked genuinely shocked and curious.

He was miserable. He couldn't eat, couldn't focus in the studio. jackie Jackson the same player who always had women lining up, was completely, hopelessly, pathetically down bad for you and he had no idea how the fuck he was gonna get you back in his life but if he learned anything from joseph it was to never give up.

It was around 2 o’clock on a random tuesday night and your phone was buzzing on the nightstand for the seventh time in the past hour. the house phone ringing nonstop back to back, you already knew who it was calling you at this time. “I swear I’m real close to filling a restraining order.” You muttered to yourself sucking your teeth and you rolled over grabbing the phone that sat on your nightstand.

On the eighth ring you finally had enough of the ringing noise because at this point no matter what you did whether it was covering your ears or placing the phone somewhere else it was STILL too damn loud for your liking. you finally picked up the call. "If you don't stop blowing my damn phone up in the middle of the night jackie, I swear to God I'm changing my number and filing a whole restraining order.” you snapped your voice thick with sleep and boiling rage. "Are you out of your mind?! It is two in the fucking morning! I told you to leave me the hell alone!"

On the other end of the line, there was a short, sharp intake of breath followed by a deep, smooth chuckle that instantly made your blood pressure spike. "Damn... miss me too, huh?" His voice hummed through the speaker low quiet and completely satisfied with the fact that you just finally answered his phone call after months.

Hearing you cuss him out was the best sound he’d heard in ninety days. The silence had been killing him, but your anger? Your anger meant you still cared so he used that to his advantage.

"Im not playing with you jackie," you spat, sitting up in bed and gripping the phone tighter. "You think this is funny? You think after everything you pulled you can just harass me at two in the morning?"

"I know I know... you mad," he said. "You got every right to be mad, baby cuss me out all you want knock my teeth out if it makes you feel better, just don't hang up, but do me a favor real quick walk over to your living room window and look down."

You narrowed your eyes in the dark. "I am not looking out my window at this time for morning, look boy I don’t have time for the games i already don’t like your as-"

"Just look out the window mama," he murmured softly, dropping that smug tone for a split second to sound almost pleading. "please just look down I promise it’s worth it.” Sighing loudly to make sure he heard your utter annoyance you slid out of bed and padded barefoot across the hardwood floor and pulled back the sheer white curtains of your third-floor apartment. And your jaw fucking dropped dropped.

Parked right beneath the streetlamp was his car the trunk popped wide open. Surrounding the back of the car were dozens upon dozens of fresh white gardenias and red roses, stacked high like a floral arrangement right on the pavement, alongside a pile of oversized gift boxes tied with velvet ribbons. And standing right in the middle of it all leaning back against the bumper with a heavy boombox resting on the hood of his car, was your ex jackie looking entirely too happy for two in the morning.

When he saw the curtain pull back, his smile widened, bright and flashing under the streetlights. “there you go!” He yelled looking up at your window. You opened your window looking down at him in pure confusion and a bit of satisfaction that you made a man be this delusional and down bad for you but that’s besides the point right now. “what the fuck are you doing?” You said looking down at him as he picked up a flower.

“can you please come down, ion’ wanna yell and wake the whole neighborhood up.” He said still smiling, he hasn’t seen you in forever it felt like. He knew he messed up very badly but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. And deep down he knew you loved him still cause if you didn’t still love him and care you wouldn’t have answered that phone. “please baby” he said softly watching you still stand at the window with your arms crossed.

“jackie i can hear you from up here,” you said folding your arms tighter trying not to smile, you wouldn’t dare let that man see you smile right now after the shit he did to you. But you did really like the flowers and maybe even the gifts despite you giving away all the other ones. After he begged for atleast three minutes you finally gave in and agreed to going downstairs. “alright alright, I’m comin.” You huffed and closed your window.

He smiled harder as he waited for you to come downstairs. He tapped his foot feeling nervous finally seeing you face to face. Once you finally made your way downstairs still in your robe he pressed the flowers to his face in defense once he saw you coming up to him. “you not finna’ slap me again, right?” He joked.

“you need to be glad I didn’t do worse.” You gave him a fake smile folding your arms again. “Hurry up I got work in the morning, what do you want?” You asked looking at him. He removed the flowers out his face trying to find the words he wanted to say, after two whole minutes he finally spoke up. “I know I was wrong baby but she didn’t mean nothing to me, I don’t know what got inside my brain to do that but I promise I won’t ever do it again, please just hear me out,” he said closing the distance between the two of you standing right in front of you. “she came on to me not that it’s an excuse or anything this only made me realize how much I do love you and needed you in my life, she doesn’t mean anything to me I swear to you. please baby let me make this right.” He begged looking at you.

“jackie I don’t wanna hear that sh-“ you said but he interrupted you again, this time he got on his knees in front of you. His hands forming a prayer. “no please just listen to me.” He looked up at you. “I was just playing with them girls I was gon get right back,” finally admitting to you. “I was trippin yo’ love is where it’s at, I’m on my knees (name) please show me some love.” He begged. You would’ve never thought you would’ve seen jackie on his knees for you besides him eating you out but boy were you wrong and that actually made a tiny smile on you face and he noticed it. He pulled on your hands. “I promise I’ll be good and I will never do it again.”

You did miss him and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to work things out with him. You looked down at him “It’ll take me time to truly get over it and forgive you,” you said. “but I’m willing to try to work things out.” And once you said that last sentence he beamed of joy and jumped up hugging you spinning you around. “boy put me down!” You huffed half laughing and also serious. After a few seconds he put you down and thanked you over and over again kissing all over your face. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, I’ll do whatever you want and say baby I just don’t wanna lose you again.”

“yeah you better.”

🏷️: @superstar-t20 @soleantoinette @curlypytclubx @peterpansdreamer @aloeveraaa333 @youluvyannie @leahmariieee @muchixo @sayyoulovemeziya @totallyavixxen @neverstreett @impala04 @prettygirlwmula @kisscoqueen @flygirlarchivee @tojiswifeforlife @gingerrsnapp @crazylady20 @mrjacksonswh0ree @yesalphadawn @umafanficdoidaqualquer @theprincessh3rself @ryuoniii @btcilovemjj @brxght-world @j-nae @michaelssidegyal @mrsfantastic @bawdylanguageee @kissmyglxck @arielletheemermaidd @oidloid @sweettaverntrophy @whimsybunnii @xenni @scccm0182 @ibelieveinmpreg @vvvolatilee @mel4ninduchess @savagenctzen @melodiesmurakamis @lovingyeet @plan3tch1ld @michaeltrapson156 @prettygurljo @alientee @saints4record @apyr-b-mockbe @bellalovessxo @w1ckedp1nk

⋆˙⟡ word to mouth ⋆˙⟡ —

꒰ mean!mother!black!fem reader ✗ father!michael ꒱

Your daughter calls out to you, holding onto the handles of the shopping cart. “Mommy!” A deep sigh left your lips before you stopped the cart and looked down at her.

“Whaaatt?” She had called your name four times before this, pointing out multiple toys or whatever seemed fun to her and expressing it out loud. All of this ‘Mommy!” This, “Mommy!” Was driving you crazy, making you whine. “Can I get that?” Seilena looked back at you, her eyes locked on a black Barbie doll.

It was the price that almost made you say no, but you would never say no to her—especially since it was a Barbie doll that matched her skin complexion. You looked at the price on the shelf and squinted “Get it—and let’s go.” You gave in, waiting for her to reach for it and hand it to you.

The cart started moving as you pushed it forward towards the appliance aisle that was across from the toys. A man who looked familiar to someone you know—too familiar. But you couldn’t see as much because he had a hoodie with a hat underneath and then his shades.

love me like you do

Brothersbsf!Michael loves sneaking around behind your older brothers back and the thrill of getting caught.

warnings:MDNI¡,sexual content.

Brothersbsf!Michael would slip his hand on your thigh underneath the dinner table whenever he'd come over to your house, and would only take it off when someone stood up from the dining area.

Brothersbsf!Michael loves giving you book recommendations and quizzing you on them after you'd finish reading them.

Brothersbsf!Michael would lean in to give you a quick peck anytime your brother had his turned away for a second. The taste of your gloss would linger on his lips as he resumed whatever he was talking about with your sibling.

After midnight, Brothersbsf!Michael would sneak out of your brothers room and sneak into yours, so you could listen to the low hum of the radio and talk about everything and nothing.

Whenever Brothersbsf!Michael saw you sitting alone he'd sneak up behind you and growl into your ear and shake your shoulders, laughing at how easily you get spooked.

Anytime you and Brothersbsf!Michael hugged, he would let his hands linger on your waist for a while, and hold you in place to ask how youve been,his hand inching dangerously closer to your ass.

Brothersbsf!Michael would pick out the filthiest pages in a book for you to read and tell you how much he'd like to do the things written on the pages to you.

Brothersbsf!Michael would sneak a pair of panties out of your drawer when you were knocked out and would use them to get himself off, thinking about how it would feel having you wrapped around him.

Brothersbsf!Michael would call the home phone, hoping to hear your voice before the line clicks and gets passed on to your brother.

On sunny mornings by the pool, Brothersbsf!Michael would approach your lounge chair and soak your white cover up , just so he could see you tits and how hard they get through your bikini top.

With his cock still stuffed inside of you, Brothersbsf!Michael would lays his head on your chest and suck at your nipple while listening to the radio together after a long session of fucking

Brothersbsf!Michael loved seeing a ring of cream around his cock every time he thrusts in and out of you, feeling a sense of pride knowing he was pushing all of that out of you.

Brothersbsf!Michael would jump at any opportunity to drive you around to wherever you wanted to go, earning suspicious stares from your brother at how much time he spent pining over you.

Brothersbsf!Michael loves the feeling of your nails scratching his scalp after a long day of rehearsals.

Whenever you and Brothersbsf!Michael would argue, you would give him the silent treatment ignoring his hand brushing yours or his stares. Causing him to spiral and end up begging for forgiveness.

During family movie nights Brothersbsf!Michael would make it a point to tease you as much as possible, his hand would lightly graze your cunt or he would whisper nonsense in your your ears, knowing damn well you both couldn't just get up and leave.

Brothersbsf!Michael coudnt do anything but stare down any man that came anywhere near you, the jealousy and having to hold back almost making him combust.

Brothersbsf!Michael loves when you wear mascara, knowing that later he'd be the one taking it off with you gagging around him

Brothersbsf!Michael would get lost in how you pleasure yourself, taking notes on how fast your fingers dissappear in n out...how your palm would rub on your clit and then applying said "notes" when he's underneath your covers, elbows deep in you.

Tag list:

@ilovekate @khxna @wisejudgedragonhairdo @kiyabtw @kiyabtw @pvtypyt @mjiscool23 @michealsbabydoll @whosbhad

A/n: I need to touch some grass. Why is he so freaky lol😭

Marlon Jackson in Student Confidential (1987)

yall look at my pretty seat!

What the fuck his arms I NEVER SNITCH ON DADDDDYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

I’m so bad

i never have anything appropriate to say but this time I REALLY have nothing appropriate to say. i actually have something devastatingly filthy to say 🥴🥴🥴

Sully Family x Eldest Daughter Reader

Part 59 > Part 60 < Part 61

An: Chapter 60... aka... The Draft

Tw: Mentions of SA, torture, suffocation, hanging. Dead Dove Do Not Eat You guys said yes- lore accurarte mangkwan

Last Moments

What hit her?

Pain exploded through her shoulder. Her knife arm jerked violently to the side. Her balance disappeared beneath her.

She stumbled. Her ruined leg buckled. The forest floor rushed up to meet her as she crashed shoulder-first into the dirt, sliding through leaves and dirt.

She sucked in a sharp breath and forced herself upright.

Move. Move. Move

Her leg screamed beneath her as she tried to stand but before she could, a Mangkwan slammed into her back.

She hit the ground again. Another seized her good arm. She twisted, snarling, trying to throw them off, but there was nothing beneath her. No footing. No leverage. Her broken leg folded uselessly beneath her.

She could only fight with the strength she had left.

She looked up.

Lo'ak still stood with over in the shadows with her gun clutched in his hands.

He simply stared at her like a frightened little boy.

Run... Run you idiot.

She met his eyes. Go.

His feet finally moved and disappeared into the trees.

The corner of her mouth twitched despite everything Live long, little brother.

Rough hands hauled her upright.

One Mangkwan twisted her arms behind her back while another wrapped a fist around the base of her kuru so tightly stars burst across her vision.

She hissed through clenched teeth.

The warriors parted. Their leader approached without hurry. her gaze swept over the clearing first. The bodies. The blood. The warriors that would never rise again.

Only then did her eyes settle on (Y/n). Her broken leg. Her bleeding shoulder. The knife still clutched stubbornly in her hand until one of the Mangkwan tore it free.

"You refuse to die."

(Y/n) glared back, chest rising and falling hard.

Something almost like amusement flickered across Varang's face. She crouched until they were almost eye level. Without asking, she caught (Y/n)'s jaw in one hand, turning her face one way, then the other, studying every cut and bruise as though examining a blade she was considering keeping.

(Y/n) jerked against her grip.

Varang's thumb brushed away the blood running down her cheek. Her eyes drifted toward the Mangkwan dead scattered around the clearing.

""Even crippled you butchered my warriors."

(Y/n) said nothing.

Varang hummed quietly. "Your people waste you."

Something cold settled in (Y/n)'s stomach.

"You fight with the desperation of prey..." Varang's eyes returned to hers. "But your will..." A smile slowly spread across her face. "...your will belongs to a Mangkwan."

The words made bile rise in (Y/n)'s throat. "I'd rather die."

"Most do."

Before (Y/n) could so much as flinch— Varang reached for her kuru.

(Y/n)'s entire body lurched. A raw snarl tore from somewhere deep in her chest as she fought the warriors restraining her with everything she had left.

Varang wrapped the thick braid once around the her blade.

Cold steel settled against the living fibres.

(Y/n)'s muscles locked. Her struggling ceased instantly.

Varang noticed and quiet satisfaction entered her eyes.

"Now you understand," she smirked

She lifted the blade just enough for its edge to bite lightly into the strands. "One movement—" Her amber eyes held (Y/n)'s without wavering. "One foolish act—" The blade pressed a fraction harder, (y/n) cried out in pain. "And I sever the part of you Eywa herself cannot replace."

Every beat of (Y/n)'s heart echoed in her ears.

Nothing she had ever endured ever filled her with this kind of terror.

Because those wounds could heal. This...This never would.

Her fingers curled into fists until her nails cut into her palms.

She refused to look away. Even with cold steel resting against the most sacred part of her body. Even as fear threatened to consume her whole.

She would not give this demon that satisfaction.

She spat. Blood and saliva struck Varang across the face.

Even the Mangkwan surrounding them seemed to still.

Slowly, Varang raised a hand and wiped the spittle from her cheek with the back of it.

A laugh escaped her.Almost pleased. "Yes..." she murmured. "You truly do have the heart of a Mangkwan."

(Y/n)'s lip curled. "No," she snarled "I have the heart of someone who's going to rip your fucking face off."

For the first time, Varang smiled. Not mockery.Approval.

She rose slowly to her feet, looking over the clearing once more. Dead Mangkwan lay where they had fallen, arrows still jutting from their bodies, blood soaking into Eywa's forest.

"You think death is your victory." She crouched once more, brushing another streak of blood from (Y/n)'s cheek almost absently. "I have no interest in wasting strength."

Her gaze drifted over the dead. "I watched you kill warriors stronger than yourself."

Her eyes settled on (Y/n) once again.

"And now..."She glanced down at the warrior forced onto her knees. "...you kneel."

(Y/n) bared her teeth. "Kill me then."

Varang tilted her head. "No."

"You have been abandoned."

(Y/n)'s brow furrowed.

Varang's voice remained calm. "Look at you." Her eyes flicked to the twisted angle of (Y/n)'s leg. "You bled for your family." They lingered on the blood running freely from her shoulder.

She looked up through the canopy. "And where was your Great Mother?"

"Where was Eywa when your blood soaked her forest?"

Her amber eyes drifted back down. "Where was she when your own people left you here?"

Varang leaned closer. "So much faith.  So much suffering." Her voice dropped until only (Y/n) could hear it. "She heard you."

"And she answered..." A faint smile touched Varang's lips. "...with silence."

(Y/n)'s breathing became uneven. Whether from the pain burning through her body or the fury clawing at her chest she no longer knew.

"Join me."

The Mangkwan shifted quietly behind their leader.

"You will never crawl before another enemy again."

"You will never beg your goddess to save you."

The blade pressed a fraction harder against her kuru.

"You already possess the heart." Varang's eyes never left hers. "All that remains is for you to stop lying to yourself."

(Y/n) laughed. It hurt. Every breath scraped through bruised lungs.

Every movement sent pain through her shattered leg and shoulder

"You think," she coughed, blood flecking her lips."Eywa abandoned me?"

Varang's smile faded.

(Y/n) lifted her chin as far as the Mangkwan restraining her would allow. "No." Her voice shook.

"When I die..." A small smile found her lips. "She'll welcome me with open arms."

Her eyes hardened. "And unlike you..." She looked around at the Mangkwan surrounding them. "...I don't need to butcher children..."

Her gaze returned to Varang.

"or burn villages to feel strong."

Varang's face became unreadable.

She pulled the blade. The edge bit cleanly into (Y/n)'s kuru. A sharp tearing sound split the clearing.

The moment the connection was severed, it was as if something inside her was violently torn out through her spine, through her mind, as if something vital was ripped from her.

Pain unlike anything she had ever known ripped through her. (Y/n)'s scream tore across the forest. A sound ripped from her throat that didn’t feel like her own voice, raw and broken, swallowed by the trees.

Every muscle in her body arched violently against the warriors holding her, they released her.

(Y/n) dropped. She hit the ground hard enough to drive the air from her lungs. For a heartbeat she didn’t move at all—just lay there, trembling violently, fingers clawing at the dirt.

Then the convulsions began. Her back arched sharply, muscles locking and releasing in violent waves as if her body was trying to reject what had been done to her. Her hands scraped at the earth, dragging roots and soil beneath her nails, searching for something—anything—that could replace what had been taken.

Her kuru.

The absence of it was worse than pain. It was emptiness, a hollow severance that echoed through every nerve in her body. She gasped again and again, but no breath felt like enough, like her lungs had forgotten how to belong to her.

Her head jerked to the side, eyes unfocused, tears spilling without meaning. She tried to curl in on herself, but even that failed—her body spasming against her will, betraying her with every tremor.

A broken sound escaped her lips, half scream, half sob, as she pressed her forehead into the dirt like she could bury the loss there, like she could force the world to give it back.

But there was nothing.

Only the unbearable, hollow silence and pain where her sanity had been.

"You still cling to her."

(Y/n) shook uncontrollably, her breaths coming in ragged sobs she couldn't control.

Varang lowered the blade.

"But every prayer you make..." She leaned in until they were almost forehead to forehead.Her voice became little more than a whisper. "...will go unanswered."

(Y/n) lay where she had fallen. Every part of her burned. Blood pooled beneath her, warm against the forest floor, seeping into the leaves beneath the ruined end of her severed kuru.

The ringing hadn't stopped.It filled her head until she could barely hear the voices around her.

She watched the Mangkwan begin to turn away.

Something inside her refused.

She planted one hand beneath herself. Pain tore through her broken leg. Her shoulder screamed.

Still...

She stood.

She swayed where she rose. Her vision doubled.

The Mangkwan nearest her barely had time to turn. With a wordless cry she threw herself forward, ripped the knife from his waistcloth and buried it to the hilt in his chest.

Blood spilled over her hand.

Varang's head snapped around.

(Y/n). She charged straight at her. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

Varang drew her blade just in time, meeting her strike with a shrill crack.

(Y/n) hacked at her again and again. There was no technique left. No restraint.

Only rage.

Varang gave ground beneath the assault, parrying one blow after another as the knife came at her throat, her chest, her face.

(Y/n) didn't stop. Every strike was wild. Violent. Desperate.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Varang barely slipped aside as the blade passed close enough to slice a lock of dark hair free.

She caught (Y/n)'s wrist.

(Y/n) headbutted her across the face.

Varang stumbled. The knife slashed across her shoulder.

For the first time the leader looked genuinely surprised.

(Y/n) drove forward again with a scream, raising the knife above her head.

"I'LL BE THE LAST THING YOU EVER FUCKING SEE!"

Varang blocked another strike, the force of it driving her back a step.

"Take her!"

Three warriors lunged together.

(Y/n) turned, driving her knife into one before he reached her. He screamed.

Another wrapped both arms around her waist. She threw him over her hip despite the agony that exploded through her shattered leg.

A fourth slammed into her from behind.

Then another.

Her injured leg finally gave way. She crashed to one knee.

Still she fought, she clawed, she snapped and bit at the hands grabbing her. "I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

A Mangkwan seized her knife arm.

Another forced her shoulders back.

A third drove her face into the dirt.

She bucked so violently they almost lost her again.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" She screamed until her voice cracked. "I'LL BE THE LAST THING YOU EVER FUCKING SEE!"

The warriors pinned every limb they could.

Still she fought them like something feral.

Varang stood over her, breathing a little harder now.

A thin line of blood ran from where (Y/n)'s knife had grazed her shoulder.

She looked down at the woman writhing beneath four of her warriors.

"I knew it." She crouched beside her once more. "The fire was always there."

She looked toward one of her warriors.

"Oare." A broad-shouldered Mangkwan stepped forward, his face marked with thick bands of ash and charcoal, one ear split from an old blade wound. A necklace of carved bones rested against his chest, each one taken from a different kill.

His grin widened as he looked down at (Y/n).

"Bind her."

Varang rose. "Her mind has already begun to fracture." She looked back at (Y/n), still snarling beneath the weight of the others. "Break what remains of her will."

Oare's grin became almost eager. "Yes, Tsahìk."

More hands descended on her. 

They forced her wrists behind her back. Ropes bit into her skin. Another hauled her broken leg upward until her ankles were drawn toward her bound hands.

She cried out..

The bindings tightened immediately. Layer upon layer. Around her wrists. Her ankles. Across her chest. Around her throat.

Every knot linked to the next. Designed so that struggling only made them cinch tighter.

Varang watched the entire process without saying a word.

Watching the last of the fight be squeezed from her not by blows...

But by the certainty that resistance itself would become its own punishment.

Finally they hauled her upright.

Or tried to, with her legs bound to her wrists she had nothing to use to stand.

So they dragged her instead. Leaves scraped beneath her. Roots caught against her .

Blood marked the path behind them.

Everything felt distant. Muted. As though she were sinking beneath deep water.

Her head hung.

The world swayed around her. Her thoughts drifted in and out like something she could no longer hold onto.

They threw her onto the forest floor.

An: Thank you @yaaraz

The impact jarred every broken part of her body.

She tried to move. A mistake. Her wrists jerked painfully behind her back. Her shoulders were wrenched toward her ankles.

A dull, nauseating ache spread through both arms.

Her legs—Bound high behind her—Refused to obey.

A whimpering sound barely escaped. She tried again.

The ropes answered first. The binding across her chest tightened. The one looped around her throat followed.

Air caught halfway into her lungs.Every breath became work. Every movement punished.

All she could do was lay there shaking.

Think.

She needed to think.

But she couldn't, it was like they refused to think, refused to wonder, refused to plan. Something deeper was wrong.

Something she couldn't put into words. Something... Missing.

A broken sound escaped her throat.

A hollow absence so vast her mind couldn't make sense of it.

Unable to understand how a part of herself could simply...Be gone.

Someone crouched in front of her.She felt him before she could properly see him.

Watching. Interested.

Her body reacted on instinct. She tried to recoil.

The ropes hauled her wrists higher. Her back arched sharply. The loop around her ribs crushed tighter. The rope around her throat stole what little breath she'd managed to draw. She coughed weakly. Her fingers twitched uselessly behind her back.

Another instinctive struggle.

Another punishment.

The knots bit deeper. Stripping away even the possibility of resistance.

She could barely make out the three Mangkwan standing over her through the haze.

One of them chuckled pulling the rope tighter, forcing her to gasp as he tied arope to a lower branch so there was zero chance she could get away.  

"Leave her here." Oare looked down at her with quiet satisfaction. "Leave her struggling on the edge of death."

He glanced toward the darkening forest. "We will return later."

The three turned and disappeared between the trees, leaving only darkness... and the deafening silence that followed.

Her body sagged.

Instantly the ropes answered. The bindings around her chest constricted, dragging a sharp gasp from her as they refused to let her lungs expand. She instinctively forced herself upright again, every muscle trembling with the effort, because the moment her weight dropped the rope around her throat bit harder.

Her chest strained against the bindings, desperate for air that simply would not come. She tried to draw another breath, her ribs pushing against the rope wrapped around her torso.

It barely moved. The breath caught halfway in.

Her body jerked instinctively, trying to pull in more air. The knots tightened. The rope around her throat dug deeper. A strangled sound escaped her lips before she could stop it.

She bowed her head, every breath hitching painfully.

Everything was too tight. The ropes dictated every movement now.

How much she could breathe.

How much she could move.

How much she could struggle.

She tried again desperate for just enough room to ease the pressure on her shoulders.

The moment her wrists shifted behind her back the bindings hauled them higher, wrenching at joints already aching from being forced so far out of place.

Pain shot down both arms.

The rope around her neck tightened in answer. Air disappeared again.

She stilled immediately. Her heart hammered frantically against the bindings around her chest, each beat seeming to tighten them further.

Think.

She tried. She really tried. But every thought slipped away before she could hold onto it.

The ringing in her ears swallowed everything else.

The pain. The silence. Even herself.

Her breathing grew shallower.

Every inhale scraped through her throat.

Every exhale seemed to leave her with less than before.

Her head dipped forward again.

Her body tried to correct it on instinct.

The rope punished her immediately.

She let out another weak gasp.

Moving only made it worse.

But staying still... staying still didn't make it better.

Her wrists burned where the fibres dug into them. Her shoulders felt as though they were slowly being pulled apart. Her broken leg and shoulder throbbed with every beat of her heart, bound uselessly against the rest of her body.

There was nothing to push against. Nothing to brace herself with.

Nothing.

Her fingers twitched weakly behind her.

A useless reflex.

Still...She tried. She turned one wrist, hoping to find even the smallest amount of slack.

The rope bit deeper. Her shoulders were dragged back another fraction and pain lanced through her arms.

Her breath caught.

The rope across her chest tightened just enough to remind her what trying to fight would cost her. 

Her head lifted slightly. The forest blurred in and out of focus. "...Dad..." The word cracked apart before it properly left her lips.

"Dad..."

He was out there.

Wasn't he?

Looking. Searching. He'd always come.

"...Mom..."

Her voice trembled. Surely her mother was looking too. Neytiri would tear apart the forest to find her. Wouldn't she?

She really wanted her mother. Wanted a shield from this nightmare.

Her next breath was too shallow. 

Not enough. Never enough.

"...Tarsem..." His name slipped out before she even realised she'd thought of him. Another hope. Another person. Another silence.

Nothing answered.

No footsteps crashing through the undergrowth.

No familiar voices calling her name. Only insects and the ringing that never stopped.

Her head lowered again.

No one's coming.

Her breathing hitched again. Her body tried to fight. A tiny movement.

Nothing more.

The rope around her throat tightened.

Air vanished. She coughed weakly, the sound dissolving into another strangled gasp.

Her body trembled from exhaustion.

She tried once more to pull against the bindings.

To do something. Anything.

The ropes punished her immediately.

She didn't have enough strength left.

Perhaps... She never had.

Her head tipped back slightly, eyes half-lidded as the canopy above blurred into patches of green and black.

A quiet sob escaped her. "...please..."

She didn't know who she was calling for anymore.

Her father. Her mother.

Eywa.

Anyone.

The forest remained silent.

The edges of her vision darkened.

She stopped fighting the ropes. Stopped trying to pull free. Stopped calling out.

Because little by little...

The thought became something she could no longer deny.

No one was coming.

(Y/n) hung there.

Her body no longer felt like hers in any real sense. It was simply something suspended by rope, pain and the slow, failing rhythm of each breath she fought to take.

Waiting.

She was just waiting for everything to end.

Something shifted through the blur.

Three figures.

Her heavy eyelids struggled to focus, vision tunnelling until the world narrowed into indistinct shadows weaving between the trees.

One of them stopped.

Even through the haze... She knew him. She would know him anywhere.

Dad.

Something inside her lurched violently.

Hope.

Her whole body answered before her mind could. She tried to move toward him.

The ropes reacted instantly.

The loop around her chest constricted. Her lungs stopped halfway through the breath she was trying to take. The rope at her throat pulled tight.

A broken sound clawed its way upward.

"D— It never became a word. Only a wet, strangled choke that died somewhere beneath the pressure crushing her neck.

Her body jerked weakly, desperate for air.

No—

He's here—

She forced herself to try again. Every shred of strength she had left gathered into that one impossible effort to try and call out to her father. 

"D..."

Another useless sound.

Thin.

Broken.

Her head lifted as far as the bindings allowed, every muscle in her neck shaking with the effort as her eyes fixed desperately on him.

He was there.

Right there.

Close enough to save her. Close enough to hear her.

He only had to look.

"Dad..." Nothing. Her voice never escaped the ropes. Only another strangled cry swallowed before it could become his name.

Her chest spasmed violently, dragging in another shallow breath that burned far more than it helped.

Please...

Jake stopped.

Her heart stumbled. For one beautiful second hope rushed through her so suddenly it hurt more than the ropes ever could.

He'd heard her. He had to have.

He slowly lowered himself into a crouch.

Right there.

He was looking. Looking for her.

She could see him studying the ground.

I'm here.

Her fingers twitched helplessly behind her back.

Dad I'm right here.

She tried again. Forced everything she had left through a throat that barely belonged to her anymore. "D...d..." The sound collapsed into another choking gargle as the rope cinched tighter beneath her effort.

Dark spots danced across her vision.

It wasn't enough.

Please...

He didn't look up. Didn't turn. Didn't see her.

He was right there.

Close enough that if she hadn't been bound she could have reached him.

Close enough to save her.

Yet he couldn't see her.

Her head shook weakly.

Why aren't you looking at me...?

Her breathing quickened. Each breath smaller than the one before it.

Her body panicked. It jerked instinctively against the ropes and the loop around her throat tightened again.

A broken sob became another strangled gasp. Tears blurred what little she could still see of him.

DAD! She screamed the word inside her own mind.

Please...

Slowly rose he to his feet.

For one heartbeat she believed...

Now.

Now you'll see me.

He turned away and disappeared back into the trees. Back into the darkness.

Away from her.

No.

The word never left her lips. Her throat closed around it before it could become sound.

Her head dropped forward. Tears fell freely from her face onto the blood-soaked earth below.

He didn't see me.

Her breathing rasped through her throat.

He didn't see me.

Another sob tried to rise. It dissolved into another weak choking sound instead.

Her lungs ached. Her chest burned. Her strength slipped away a little more with every breath.

Stop fighting.

The thought came gently. Almost kindly.

Just let go.

Let the rope finish it.

Let it stop hurting.

Her body sagged.

The bindings tightened.

Everything grew darker.

Her head lifted barely a fraction.

No.

Some stubborn part of her refused.

Her chest strained for another breath. Then another. Each one scraping through her throat like broken glass.

Dad.

Help me.

I'm right here.

Her vision continued to narrow until the forest blurred.

Still she clung to those  thin breaths. Barely enough to keep her alive.

But enough.

Just enough.

To keep hanging on.

She didn’t know how long she was tied up there waiting for her dad to come back. Holding her head up so the rope wouldn’t keep pulling at her throat, every inhale and exhale, a rasp, forcing whatever little air she could into her lungs.

Gasping like a fish on land, no clean breath, just that harsh, dragging sound. There’s no relief between them—just one rasp bleeding into the next as she tried to force air past the rope wrapped around her throat.

Footsteps. Crunching through the forest.

Her head jerked up, heart lurching—Hope hits fast.

“…dad—?” it barely forms, her voice wrecked, breath too thin to carry her voice.

She tries to move—

To call out—

To do anything—

The ropes snap tight instantly.

Her chest can’t expand. Her airway constricts.

A sharp, broken gasp—

Nothing comes.

Her body panics.

Thrashes—

Instinct takes over.

Move—get out—breathe—

The bindings punish her immediately.

Wrists wrenching. Shoulders screaming.

The rope at her throat tightens further—

Cutting off what little air she had.

Her goes white at the edges.

Her legs kick uselessly, bound tight—

Her chest heaves—

Nothing.

Nothing—

A strangled sound tears from her throat.

The Mangkwan crouched before her, his fingers tracing the rope biting into her throat. He tested the tension with a slow tug, watching her choke as though studying a lesson.

"There." His voice was calm. "Your body understands before your mind does."

(Y/n) barely heard him.

She was too busy trying to breathe.

"You still fight the ropes." He tugged on the rope a little just to elicit another gasp from her. "You still think struggle will save you."

He smiled and drew his knife. "But pain is a better teacher." The blade flashed. The rope around her throat parted.

Air crashed back into her lungs. She collapsed forward, coughing violently as her body fought to remember how to breathe, each desperate inhale tearing at her raw throat.

He watched without offering help.

"Good." His tone held quiet satisfaction. "Breathe. You cannot abandon Eywa if you are already dead."

He waited until her coughing eased into ragged gasps before speaking again.

"The Tsahìk wants your body alive. It is your spirit we have come to kill."

He tilted his head, studying her. "You still believe someone will return for you. You still believe your Great Mother watches."

His smile widened. "Keep believing. We have all the time in the world to prove you wrong."

He reached down and cut the rope binding her ankles. Her legs dropped heavily to the ground.

He stepped back. "I intend to watch everything that makes you who you are break."

She tried to force herself onto her feet.

Trying to run. Trying to get away but she was too slow. Too weak.

A hand slammed into her shoulder. The air burst from her lungs in one painful rush.

"Where do you think you are going?"

She fought. 

Her legs kicked wildly, searching for purchase that wasn't there.

She twisted. Rolled. Tried to throw him off but her body answered slower than her mind demanded.

He was stronger.

He caught her by the shoulder and hauled her upright as though she weighed nothing before slamming her back against the rough trunk of a tree.

Bark bit into the cuts across her back.

Pain shot through her.

His hand settled against the bruises circling her neck, fingertips following the angry marks left by the rope.

She turned her face sharply away from him. Anything to avoid looking at him.

His fingers lingered where every ragged breath shuddered beneath her skin.

She jerked her head away again.

A second hand caught her jaw and held her still. Revulsion rolled through her.

Her legs lashed out harder. She twisted with everything she had left, trying to throw him off, trying to strike him, trying to do anything except stand there while he touched her but was no strength behind it anymore.

Every kick grew slower. Every struggle weaker.

"Enough." There was irritation in his voice now.

She didn't stop. Her legs kept fighting. Even as they began to shake and the strength bled out of them.

He watched her for a long moment.

"No kuru."

"No weapon."

"And still, you think you are one of them." He almost sounded curious. "What is left to fight for?"

 (Y/n) glared back through the haze.

He traced a finger long her jaw. "Our Tsahik understands something perfectly."

"It is never the body that refuses. It is the lie. The lie that Eywa hears you."

He pressed his fingers into her shoulder, and she cried out in pain. 

"You have nothing." He looked directly into her eyes. "Stop clinging to ghosts."

"Let them go. Let Eywa go. Accept what she has already shown you." His voice lowered. "She did not answer. Your family did not come."

"And you are at my mercy."

A faint smile crossed his face. "You need only speak the truth. Say that she abandoned you."

"Walk away from Eywa. The struggle ends the moment you stop pretending your goddess will provide."

He searched her face, waiting. Waiting for doubt. Waiting for despair. Waiting for the first crack.

She drove her head forward into his nose. The crack echoed through the trees.His grip vanished as he stumbled backwards with a sharp curse, blood pouring instantly from his shattered nose.

(Y/n) swayed where she stood.

Then another Mangkwan slammed into her side. She hit the ground hard. Hands seized her before she could even draw breath. They forced her onto her knees.

The impact jarred through her broken leg, pain exploding up her spine.

The Oare shook it off, blood dripping freely down his face. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and looked at the crimson smeared across his fingers.

Then he laughed. "You see?" He crouched in front of her once more, catching her jaw in his hand and forcing her eyes onto his. "Your body still remembers how to fight." His thumb pressed against her chin. "It simply has not yet learned that fighting has become meaningless."

Her eyes never left his. Never yielded.

He studied her for a long moment. "Every captive reaches the same place."

"Some arrive quickly." Some spend days breaking themselves against the truth."

His gaze drifted briefly toward the ruined end of her severed kuru.

"But all arrive." He leaned closer. "I am patient."

His voice became almost gentle. "One day you will wake and realise Eywa never answered. You will realise your people chose to live while leaving you here. You will realise your suffering bought you nothing."

"And when that day comes you will choose us yourself."

She lifted her head a fraction, enough that he could see the hatred burning in her eyes. "Never," she rasped. The word scraped painfully through her ruined throat.

Yet somehow...

Something hardened behind his eyes.

He rose to his feet and lifted one hand.

A silent signal. The others moved immediately.

(Y/n) reacted on instinct.

She twisted violently. Tried to wrench herself free.

Hands caught her from every side.

Her wrists were dragged higher behind her back. The rope bit deep into already torn skin as fresh lengths were threaded through the bindings, replacing every single one that was previously cut.

Pain exploded through both shoulders.

Another rope was fed through the binding at her wrists.

Drawn backward until her arms climbed higher behind her back until her chest was forced forward unnaturally. Her back arched beneath the strain.

A broken breath escaped her.

She felt it wrap around the trunk behind her. Instantly every ounce of her weight was held by the tension.

She could no longer fall. Could no longer sink to the ground. She remained pinned upright against the tree by rope alone.

She closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at their satisfied expressions any longer.

Instead she stared upward through half-lidded eyes at the canopy above. Help me. The plea never reached her lips.

One silent tear traced down her cheek.

Another length of rope wrapped tightly around one thigh. She heard footsteps circling behind the tree. Then the pull came. Her opposite leg was drawn outward.

The rope was adjusted carefully. Tested. Readjusted. Until every last trace of slack disappeared.

She instinctively tried to draw her legs back together. The ropes tightened. Her muscles strained uselessly against them.

She writhed once.

Only once.

It made everything worse.

The Oarea watched quietly.

"The ropes teach the lesson your spirit refuses." He didn't sound pleased.

He stepped in front of her again. "You believe strength is endless resistance."

He slowly shook his head. "No. Strength is being the one holding the rope."

His hand caught her chin once more. "You are fighting pointlessly."

"Fight with us."

"Reject the goddess who watches you suffer."

"Speak it. You need only surrender the lie."

She slowly shook her head. "No."

The Oare's mad smile disappeared completely.

Her entire body tensed instinctively against the ropes, her chest pulling tight as fear struck .

No.

Not like this. Not him. Not anyone.

Oare stepped closer.

His hand drifted lazily over the ropes stretched taut around her, almost admiring the work.

His eyes met hers. "Most beg by now."

"They bargain. They curse us. They curse Eywa."

"They begin to understand." He smiled faintly. "You are slower."

His hand brushed the ropes near her thigh, feeling the tension rather than her.

"Varang expects me to make sure everyone reaches the same truth."

(Y/n) slowly lifted her head. The ropes bit deeper. She ignored them.

She was exhausted. Bleeding. Bound.

But beneath it all was still fury.

"You will not break me."

Oare's smile widened. "From where I stand you are already breaking."

His fingers tapped lightly against one of the knots securing the ropes. "I need only keep pressure where it hurts."

"You think your strength is refusing me." He shook his head. "No."

"Your strength is still chained to Eywa. To the lie that she made you who you are." His voice remained almost conversational.

"When those things finally crumble you will discover there is nothing left to defend. You will speak our truth yourself."

(Y/n)'s breathing remained rough.

Still... She smiled. It wasn't kind.

"I swear..." She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "...one day I'll rip your throat out."

He stopped smiling. 

Oare's expression didn't change. "I have not met one who did not say that."

"Warriors."

"Hunters."

"Tsahìk."

"Even those who swore Eywa herself walked beside them."

His eyes searched hers. "They all believed they were different. They all believed they would be the one who never yielded."

A humourless smile touched his lips. "They weren't."

"And you will not be the first."

(Y/n) only glared back.

He reached down and gave one of the ropes a deliberate pull.

Her legs were forced farther apart.

The sudden strain tore a cry from her before she could stop it. She fought the bindings on instinct, every muscle pulling against them. Every desperate movement only trapped her more completely.

Oare watched in silence.

He stepped closer again. Without warning his fingers dug into the gunshot wound in her shoulder.

White-hot agony exploded through her.

She screamed. Her knees buckled, but the ropes held her upright, forcing her to remain exactly where they wanted her. His lips twitched upwards.

Her breathing shattered into ragged gasps.

He removed his hand only when the scream died into trembling breaths, playing with the feel on her blood on his fingers, he tasted it.

"You mistake us." His voice remained calm. "You think pain is the purpose."

He slowly wiped the blood from his fingertips onto the bark beside her. "It is not."

"Pain is only the doorway."

"There are punishments greater than wounds."

"Greater than broken bones."

"Greater than death."

He gestured toward the severed remains of her kuru lying forgotten where it had fallen.

"The Tsahìk does not wish to destroy your body. She wishes to destroy the woman who still believes she belongs to Eywa."

He leaned in until only she could hear him. "I will strip away your certainty. I will strip away your faith. I will strip away every part of you that still reaches for your old life."

His voice lowered to a whisper.

"And when nothing remains..."

"...you will choose the Ash People not because we forced you..."

"...but because you will no longer remember who you were before us."

By the time he stepped away she was gasping for breath. Every inhale scraped through her throat. Every exhale trembled. Her head hung low, strands of hair plastered to her sweat-soaked face. Blood dripped steadily onto the roots beneath her feet.

Oare watched her in silence. "Nothing to say?"

Her shoulders began to shake. Then, with a ragged cry, she threw herself against the ropes. Every restraint snapped taut. Pain tore through her shoulders. Her legs strained against the bindings until they trembled violently. She roared through gritted teeth, fighting every knot holding her in place, sobs breaking between breaths she could barely drag into her lungs. "I'll kill you!"

Another violent pull. The ropes answered with cruel precision. "I swear when I get out of these ropes..."

She strained forward until every muscle in her body burned.

"I'll kill you!" Her voice cracked. "I'll cut your kuru!" She fought desperately against bindings. "and shove it down your throat!"

Oare smiled. "There." His voice was almost satisfied. "That." He studied her the way a hunter studied a wounded animal. "You're helpless. Desperate."

He reached down and lifted another length of rope.

He slipped it around her neck once more. "You still believe this fight belongs to you."

He wrapped the loose end once around his forearm. "It doesn't."

With one sharp pull the rope tightened. Her breath vanished. Her head jerked back. Her chest strained desperately against the bindings, trying to pull in air that simply wasn't there.

She fought. Her shoulders twisted. The ropes cinched tighter everywhere at once. Every attempt to escape only stole more air.

Oare watched without emotion. "When," he asked quietly, "will you understand?"

He pulled another fraction. "That you stand at the mercy of the Mangkwan not the other way around."

Her throat closed. A harsh choking sound escaped her. Her body convulsed against the restraints, every instinct screaming to breathe.

Darkness crept inward at the edges of her vision.

Still he held.

Held.

Held.

Until her struggles became weaker. Until her knees shook beneath her. Until her eyelids fluttered.

Only then did he release the tension.

Air crashed into her lungs. She doubled over as far as the ropes allowed, coughing violently, every breath coming in desperate, ragged gasps that tore through her raw throat.

Her lower lip trembled. She closed her eyes.

Great Mother...

The prayer formed silently.

Please...

Before she could finish— The rope snapped tight again. The words died inside her. Her body lurched instinctively as air disappeared once more.

Every rope answered. The bindings around her wrists bit deeper. The restraints around her legs tightened as she struggled.

Her entire body became her prison.

"Careful. You punish yourself every time you fight."

She refused to look at him. Instead, through the haze stealing the edges of her vision, she reached inward once more. "Ma Eywa," she gargled past the rope. 

The rope tightened again. "You still pray." He sounded almost disappointed.

He leaned closer. "Listen instead to what your own body tells you. It is teaching you. It knows who holds your life."

He eased the rope just enough for another ragged breath to find her lungs.

"Abandon Eywa and the struggle ends."

(Y/n) trembled. Her whole body screamed for relief.

For one impossible heartbeat...

A thought slipped quietly into her mind.

If I just agreed...

Would this stop?

The temptation horrified her.

It would end the pain. End the choking. End the endless fight.

Her eyes closed.

No.

It would not end. It would only cost her something she could never reclaim.

And she would not disappoint her mother like that. 

Her lips parted, trembling. A broken rasp slipped out as she tried to pray. “Ma Eywa…” The name broke against the rope in her throat, barely more than breath. Her body shuddered as she forced it again, refusing to let it die inside her. "If this is my last breath, let it return to you. I suffer now and wait to go to your waiting arms. Eywa will—"

The rope snapped tight in his grip as he gave it a brutal yank, dragging her words into a strangled gasp. “Choke on your prayers,” he hissed, twisting his forearm so the bindings bit deeper, cutting her breath off mid-syllable and forcing her devotion to break against the pressure in her throat.

He held the pressure for a few seconds longer, listening to the broken, wet sounds she made as she fought for air that would not come. Then, almost thoughtfully, he loosened his grip. Air rushed back into her lungs in ragged, tearing pulls. Her body sagged forward, trembling violently as she coughed and gasped, each breath scraping like glass through her throat.

Oare tilted his head slightly, watching her recover just enough to feel it. “Do you have something to say?”

Her lips trembled, she barely had enough strength remained to lift her head.

Still she looked straight at him. Her voice came out shredded, each word dragged through a throat that no longer wanted to work.

"Great Mother..." She paused to force another breath into burning lungs. "If my path ends here..." A cough broke the sentence apart. "...receive me with open arms."She inhaled shakily. "I fear no journey..." Her eyes closed. "...that leads me back to you."

Oare's expression hardened.

He yanked the rope in his hands and the loo around her throat cinched closed.

Her head snapped back. Her mouth opened in a desperate, silent gasp. Her lungs convulsed uselessly, her body instinctively throwing itself against the restraints. Her vision flashed white.

Still he held. Watching. Waiting.

Only when her struggles began to slow did he ease the tension.

Air slammed back into her lungs  coughing violently until tears streamed down her face.

"Pray." His voice was almost curious. "Pray to your Great Mother." A humourless smile crossed his face. "She will not come for you."

(Y/n) coughed again, every breath ragged. She swallowed against the blood in her throat.

Then, somehow she smiled.  "Ma Eywa..." Her words trembled between coughing breaths. "If this is where my journey endsreceive me into your waiting arms." She took another rasping breath.  "I have walked your path."

"I have kept faith."

"I return to you in peace..."

She lifted her eyes to his. "...and leave those who have forsaken you..." Her breathing faltered. "...to face your judgment alone."

The rope snapped taut once more and her prayer vanished beneath another violent choke. Her whole body convulsed. The world narrowed to burning lungs and the desperate instinct to breathe.

Again he held. Long enough for darkness to creep into the corners of her sight. Long enough for her knees to shake uncontrollably against the ropes.

Then he released her. She dragged air into her chest with broken, rasping sobs, coughing until every muscle in her body ached.

He stared at her. "There is still time." His voice had lost its earlier amusement. "Renounce her and this ends."

(Y/n) barely seemed to hear him. She was too busy forcing another breath into her lungs.

And Between those shattered breaths she whispered once more. "Great Mother..."

"If this is my last breath let it return to you."

"I suffer now..." A cough interrupted her. She forced the words through it. "...but I do not suffer alone."

"I wait for your embrace."

"As all life returns..." Her eyes lifted toward the canopy overhead. "...so shall I."

Oare watched her.

She met his stare and faint grin touched her lips.

He stared back at her. "You think you're clever." The words came flatly. "You think defiance is victory."

He stood over her for a long moment, saying nothing more, his eyes searching her face as though waiting for the first crack that refused to appear.  She’s actively dying by the second and there was still no pleading in her eyes.

"Then I shall send you to your Great Mother."

He cut the rope from around her throat first. Then came the ropes at her legs. Then the bindings anchoring her arms behind her back.

One by one they fell away. She dropped like dead weight. The impact jarred through every broken part of her body, but she barely reacted. She lay where she had fallen, cheek pressed into the dirt, dragging in ragged breaths that refused to satisfy burning lungs.

For a long moment she did not even try to rise. She couldn't.

He crouched beside her. "Beg." His eyes searched hers. "Call to your Great Mother once more."

"When she leaves you unanswered..."

"...call to us instead."

"I may yet spare what remains of you."

Her head shifted. Only a fraction. But she shook it. No.

Then Oare sighed. "So be it."

He rose and gestured to the others.

Hands seized her again. She scarcely had the strength to resist anymore. Her muscles answered only with weak, instinctive flinches as fresh coils of rope slid across bruised skin.

Around her wrists. Across her forearms. Around her chest. Her waist. Her thighs.

To rob her body of every possibility to fight back.

Each new binding stole another movement before she could even think to make it.

Layer after layer enclosed her until it felt less like rope. and more like a shell being built around her.

A spiders web.

A prison.

One of the Mangkwan hauled another length of rope over a thick branch raising her off the ground. 

Oare watched without expression.

The rope settled once more around her neck.

Not enough to choke.

Enough to warner her of what's to come if he cut the ropes suspending her weight, enough to warn her what would happen if only one rope remained to hold that weight. 

They drew the remaining lines taut.

Branches creaked overhead.

The web tightened.

Her feet barely brushed the forest floor.

Every line pulled in a different direction. Her arms. Her shoulders. Her chest. Her legs.

No slack remained anywhere.

She hung suspended within the lattice of rope, held upright not by her own strength, but by theirs.

Every breath tested the bindings.

Oare regarded her in silence.

"Varang was right."

His voice carried the certainty of doctrine rather than triumph.

"We do not need to break bone to end what you are."

"We only need to break what you believe." His gaze drifted to the rope above her, then back to her face. "This line holds you to life."

He let that sink in. "Right now, it is the only thing keeping your body from giving in to the weight of itself."

"Once I cut it..." His hand lifted slightly, indicating the tensioned rope overhead. "...there will be nothing left to hold you except that rope around your neck."

His eyes narrowed. "You will die, slowly, your own weight slowly pulling that rope tighter."

He stepped closer. "This is your last chance. Renounce Eywa."

"Reject the lie you are clinging to." His gaze locked onto hers. "And live long enough to see the truth we are offering you."

(Y/n) lifted her head as much as the ropes allowed. Blood clung to her lips.

Her breathing shook. But her eyes remained steady.

He cut the rope.

She felt herself drop. The web shifted around her. The weight that had been shared between them settled onto the loop around her neck. It drew tight.

Slowly. Like a tide slowly creeping up the shore.

Her first breath caught halfway. She forced another breath. Only a thread of air slipped through.

"Let's see," Oare said quietly, watching her, "if Eywa sends someone to save you."

He waited.

She threw her head back, trying to steal even the smallest fraction of space beneath the rope. Then forward again. Then to one side, searching desperately for a position that would let her breathe.

There wasn't one. Each movement only shifted the weight. Each shift drew the rope a little tighter.

Her breaths became rough, scraping things that barely deserved to be called breaths.

Oare listened. A faint smile crossed his face. He had wanted to hear that sound again. That desperate edge where every breath became a battle.

Satisfied, he turned away.

His footsteps faded between the trees.

Leaving only the tightening creek of rope, the whisper of leaves overhead. And her breathing. If it could still be called that.

She tried to push herself upward, toes searching desperately for purchase against the forest floor but she couldn't reach.

The slip tightened again. Her airway narrowed another fraction.

She stopped struggling.

Lifted her eyes toward the canopy instead.

She forced herself to think of nothing but the next breath. Draw it in. Let it out.

Again.

Again.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She was dying.

Simply waiting for the end.

Every attempt to ease the pressure only tightened another knot.

Her legs trembled in those ropes.

She closed her eyes. Counted.

One.

Two.

Three.

Trying to delay the next breath. Trying not to need it.

Her lungs decided for her.

Her mouth opened. She drew inward. Almost nothing came.

Her body reacted before her mind could.

She struggled.

Her body convulsed violently, a sudden desperate surging desperating. She jerked against the bindings, shoulders wrenching, legs kicking uselessly at empty air as she tried to force space where there was none. The rope answered every by biting tighter with each frantic twist.

A broken, airless sound tore from her throat—half gasp, half choke—followed by a harsh, rattling inhale that collapsed into nothing. She tried again, and again, each attempt producing only thin, strangled noises that scraped out of her like she was drowning on dry land.

Her head snapped back, then forward, as if her body could shake free, the world narrowing to the unbearable pressure at her throat and the useless, panicked rhythm of her failing breaths.

Each sound she made grew weaker, more fractured—ragged, choking inhales that never became air, desperate little gasps that broke apart before they could form anything.

Darkness crept inward from the edges of her vision until only a narrow circle remained.

She fought it. Every heartbeat. Every trembling breath.

Please...

Her thoughts no longer knew who they were reaching for.

Dad...

The word echoed through her mind.

She pictured him. The sound of his laugh. His hand on the back of her neck after a hard mission.

The way he always called her "pumpkin."

The memory hurt more than the ropes.

Please...

Her body grew heavier. The struggle slowed. Her head bowed.

Another shallow breath. Then another.

Each one smaller than the last.

She thought of her mother. She thought of how her mother would grieve her, and aching sorrow cut through her—she was so, so sorry.

She thought of Tuk's tiny arms wrapped around her.

Of Lo'ak.

Live long, little brother.

A faint calm settled over her, she had given everything she possessed.

She had fought every single second.

They had taken her kuru.

Her weapons.

Her strength.

But not her faith.

She knew her mother would be proud of that.

Eywa... The thought came gently. If you cannot save me...

Save them.

The forest blurred.

Her fingers twitched once. Then were still.

One final breath found her.

Enough for one last thought.

I tried mama. 

Her eyes closed and her body fell limp, the fight that came with life gone.

Yet the ropes continued to creak quietly beneath the canopy.

"Mama!"Neytiri spun at the sound. She knew that voice. Her little girl came racing toward her through the sunlight, laughter in her eyes, tiny feet barely touching the soft grass before she threw herself into Neytiri's arms.

Neytiri fell to her knees to catch her. "My heart," she breathed, gathering her close so tightly she thought she might disappear if she loosened her grip.

She buried her face in the child's dark hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her eldest daughter.

She knew this little body. Every part of it. Nine years old. Long before scars carved pale lines across blue skin. Her daughter's cheeks were still round with childhood, her smile effortless and wide enough to wrinkle the corners of her eyes. Her braids were uneven where she'd clearly escaped someone trying to tidy them, beads clicking softly as she moved. Her ears twitched with quiet curiosity, her tail swaying lazily behind her. There wasn't a single scar upon her—not across her hands, not her arms, not her face. Only smooth blue skin striped in deep indigo.

Her eyes... They shone. Bright. Completely untouched by the things the future had done to them.

Neytiri held her as though she could stop time itself. "My baby," she whispered, nuzzling into her hair.

The little girl smiled. One small hand rose and gently cupped Neytiri's cheek. Neytiri covered that tiny hand with on of hers, closing her eyes as warmth flooded through her chest. My baby.

"I have to go now, Mama."

The warmth vanished.

Neytiri's eyes flew open. "What?"

The little girl's smile faltered just enough for sadness to reach it. "I have to go."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, Mama..."

The words made something inside Neytiri break.

"I tried."

"What do you mean you tried?"

Panic surged through her.

She pushed her daughter's hand away only so she could seize that little face, cupping it in her hands.

"What happened?"

The little girl's golden eyes shimmered. "Something bad happened." Her lower lip trembled. "So... I came to say goodbye."

"No." Neytiri shook her head violently. "No." She pulled her daughter into her chest. "You cannot leave me."

The little girl rested her forehead against her mother. "Things won't be the same anymore, Mama."

"No." Neytiri's voice cracked. "Please." She clung tighter. "Please, no."

"I love you, Mama."

"No. You promised."

The little girl's lower lip trembled. "I really did try."

"I know you did," Neytiri sobbed. "I know."

She held her daughter's face between trembling hands. "I should have protected you."

"I should have—"

"Mama." The child smiled so gently it hurt. "You always found me."

Neytiri broke. "No..." She gathered her daughter into her arms again, rocking her as tears poured freely down her face. "My heart—My firstborn—Please don't leave Mama."

The little girl wrapped her arms around Neytiri's neck one last time. "I love you." Then she leaned forward and pressed a tiny kiss to her mother's forehead. "Don't be sad."

The warmth in Neytiri's arms began to fade. "No." She held tighter. "No!"

But the little body was already growing lighter like mist slipping through her fingers.

Neytiri clawed desperately at the child, trying to keep hold of her. "My baby!"

"Please! I am here! Stay with me! Don't leave mama."

The little girl only looked at her with those bright, innocent eyes. Eyes that had never known fear.

Then she was gone.

Neytiri's arms closed around empty air.

Neytiri sat bolted upright with a cry.

Pain tore through her shoulder. A firm hand caught her shoulder before she could rise. "Be still, child," Mo'at ordered, pressing her gently but firmly back onto the gurney.

Neytiri struggled anyway, panic lending strength to limbs that had no strength left to give. "The children." Her voice broke. "My children."

She looked wildly around the lab, chest heaving. "(Y/n)!" The name came out almost as a scream.

Mo'at caught her face between weathered hands.

Neytiri gripped her mother's forearm with desperately.

"Where?"

Tarsem stepped closer, his own face drawn tight with worry. "Where?" he echoed quietly.

Neytiri looked from him to Mo'at.

She pressed a shaking hand against her own something was dreadfully wrong.

Next >

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