Cookieness Evereat

His gaze cuts to the bed, where a few formal gowns are tossed across the comforter, bags and tissue paper scattered along the floor. He crosses the room, stepping toward the edge of the mattress, fingers grazing the assortment of textures and colors. 

“My cousin’s wedding is next week. I’m a bridesmaid, remember?” 

“Ah,” he says, mouth falling open. “I thought you all had to match each other–like the same color or something.” 

He plays with the skirt of one of the dresses, a chartreuse chiffon fabric–a color that is very popular this year à la the saleswoman who helped you pick it out. You’re not convinced. 

“Not anymore. Apparently it’s all the rage these days to have a mis-matched bridal party. Something about pinterest, I don’t know.” Your voice trails off as you head back to the standing mirror in the corner of the room, taking another look at the gown meeting your curves. It’s hot pink, the color an immaculate complement to your complexion, yet the shape is a little matronly. 

“You look beautiful,” he says, contacting your eyes in the reflection. “I like it.” 

Oh, Leon, you think. “It’s a little frumpy.” You smooth the fabric over your hips, officially signing the veto order. “Help me unzip?” 

He nods, approaching from behind, hands immediately finding the zipper between your shoulder blades. Instant relief courses through you as the fabric releases from your skin. A knuckle brushes up and down your spine before Leon helps guide the sleeves down your arms. 

“Try on another one,” he commands softly at your ear, hands returning to the balls of your shoulders to squeeze. 

You pull off the pink dress entirely, putting it back on the hanger and in its respective garment bag and into the ‘no’ pile. Leon paces back and forth around the bed, surveying the array of gowns, eventually deciding on which one he wants to see you in next, pointing to a shimmery gold dress with thick straps and a bandage-style body that is sure to hug your every curve. There’s no surprise why he picked that one. 

He helps you slip into the gown, crouching by your feet, holding the skirt open for you to step into, gliding it up your calves, your thighs, your middle, aiding you in pulling on the straps. 

“Gorgeous,” he says with a smile, spinning you around, dipping you back to plant a long, savored kiss on your lips. “But I don’t think this is the one.” 

He lets you back up, and you glance at him from beneath cinched brows. “Why not?” You turn your head to the side to catch your figure in the mirror across the room, taking in the way the fabric conforms to the slope of your hips, the length of your waist. A strong contender. “I think it looks great. Really great.”

He stood at the altar, dressed in his best silver tux, thumb rubbing absent circles over the simple band of the engagement ring you had gifted him. The guests blurred together into a sea of smiling faces, but he barely registered them.

He wasn't nervous…at least, that's what he'd been telling himself.

Then the music changed.

The entire room rose to its feet.

Leon finally looked up.

And there you were.

For a moment his mind simply…stopped.

You looked impossibly beautiful—not in the distant, untouchable way magazines tried to define beauty, but in the painfully familiar way that stole the air from his lungs. It was you with the same smile that greeted him after bad days. The same eyes that always found him across crowded rooms.

Leon felt something in his chest crack open.

With every step you take the reality of what was happening is sinking into him.

This is real, you're real. So real in fact that he was marrying you.

For the first time in a long while his eyes stung, tears were quickly filling the edge of his sight before he could even know what to do.

He tried to blink the tears away.

Don't cry.

Come on Kennedy, pull yourself together.

But the thought kept echoing louder than the music.

They're really, really marrying stupid ol’ me.

His throat tightened.

Leon is not in any sense lucky—well one could surmise he was unluckily lucky---but how did his luck get this good?

How in the hells did he manage to get this right?

How did he pull all the right cards to lead to this point?

It didn't make sense.

Not to him.

He knew the plenty of mistakes he'd made. The missions that had hollowed him out. The nights he'd come home exhausted, carrying ghosts he could never quite explain.

He knew every flaw.

Every scar.

Every reason someone should've decided loving him was too difficult.

Yet there you are.

Walking toward him with the kind of smile that made it seem as though choosing him had never been a question.

His chest ached.

There had to be a mistake.

Some irrational part of him almost expected someone to interrupt the ceremony.

“Sorry, wrong groom.”

“There's been a mix-up.”

Because surely—surely this couldn't really be happening to him.

You reached the front.

Now, standing a foot away from him.

Leon gaze landed on your glimmering eyes…

And whatever composure he'd managed to hold onto completely disappeared.

“Hi there.” You smile so effortlessly like you’re merely taking a calm stroll in the park.

“H-Hi.” 

Brilliant, he stuttered.

The man who walked out a zombie infested city fucking stuttered.

Just great, months of planning and the first thing that went out of his mouth was a stuttered Hi.

A tiny laugh escaped your painted lips.

Well…at least one of yous find this amusing.

“I…” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling seventeen instead of thirty-something—great he also forgot how old he was. “You look…”

His stupid brain abandoned him.

He cleared his throat to save him some grace.

“You look pretty.”

Your smile widened.

“Just pretty?”

His face warmed instantly.

Oh you little devil. Your partner was having a brain malfunction yet here you are enjoying every bit of it.

“No, that's not—I mean…” He stopped himself, shutting his eyes for half a second, laughing at himself. Once he pulled himself together he looked at you once again. “You look absolutely stunning.”

This time it seemed you were the one being flustered.

“Thank you, you look quite dashing yourself.”

Leon laughed again, softer this time.

“I just wasn't prepared for what you could actually do to me.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I forgot how to talk.”

A few quiet chuckles rippled through the front rows.

Leon didn't even notice.

His whole world had narrowed to the person standing inches away.

“I'm delighted I could stunt The Leon Kennedy.”

Leon shook his head, amused by your statement.

“Not everyday someone can do so.” He held out his hand. “Ready to marry me, partner?”

You threaded your fingers around his. 

“I walked the aisle, would be pretty awkward if I’m not.”

Leon scoffed, “It's a bit unfair. Here I am on the verge of crying, and here you are, swagger and all.”

“Verge? Honey, I already see a tear track.”

“Damn.” He sniffled, laughing at himself. “I know.”

The officiant smiled knowingly, clearly willing to give them another minute. There'd been one too many times he’d witnessed couples clearly despise each other during their ceremony. Witnessing the exchange in front o him was a breath of fresh air.

He can feel the parasite now. It’s somewhere in his chest, limbs scratching over his ribs and establishing itself over his heart. It itches and burns within him. The kind of pain that he’s only ever imagined, never been able to feel. There’s a tightness in his lungs that won’t go away. It makes breathing hard. Painful, actually. When he looks down, he can see the veins on his arms turning a sickly dark green. He can only imagine what the rest of him looks like right now. Is his face covered in the same markings? His eyes? His organs?

A weak groan pierces his train of thoughts. It’s you, whimpering into his shoulder. When he angles his head to the side, he can just barely see your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut, worry lines carved into your forehead. 

“Rabies?” He tests, turning his head forward again. When he squints and angles the flashlight just right, he can see a door up ahead. With his luck, it won’t lead to anywhere good, but anything has to be better than this.

Another hiss of pain as you respond. “‘M here.”

Your answer does nothing to reassure him. If anything, it just raises his blood pressure further. You don’t sound good. Your words are tilted and wrong, like you’re barely even there anymore. Even as he keeps walking, cold water wading up to his knees, his brain is focusing on how you’re practically slack over his shoulders. He might as well be carrying around a corpse. Shit, maybe he will be carrying around a corpse, pretty soon. You might be the medic, a former nurse, but he doesn’t need to understand medicine to see how far gone you are. 

He wonders how Ashley is. How far her parasite has progressed. Does she have that same feeling in her chest right now? The same broiling, burning, stinging pain? God, what are those cultists doing to her? The poor thing is alone right now, probably terrified out of her mind. 

“... Keep- Keep them out…”

You’re mumbling, he realizes. Not to him, no. Mumbling to no one. Mumbling to whatever fever dream your heat addled brain is showing you.

You keep saying things, even as he gets to the door and opens it. Cold air hits him as he peers inside. It looks like some old kind of lab, all metal and rust and clinical tables. It doesn’t look safe, but it’s probably safer than the cave. 

Your head sways alongside his movements. “.... Don’t let them into peds… Lock the doors…”

Water drips off of him as he steps inside, echoing wetly against the floor. He shivers as another cold chill hits his body, only amplified by the water. 

“Room twelve… There’s still someone in room twelve.”

Peds. Room twelve. Keep them out.

Something clicks in his brain and it makes his heart ache, for more reasons than just the parasite.

Nobody does this line of work by choice. 

The word ‘outbreak’ nearly hits him over the head. He can only imagine it. You, years ago, clad in pastel scrubs covered in blood and bile. Some kind of monster chasing you down as you tried to help some faceless kid. Is that how it had gone? What outbreak had you even been part of? There’s been quite a few that he can think of. But then his brain interjects the words you said earlier, while comforting Ashley on that floral patterned couch. Back when you were still coherent.

“It must’ve been… 6 years ago- ish.”

6 years ago. He does the math.

1998.

Realization hits him so hard that he nearly drops you. Only one major outbreak happened in that year. He should know. He was there.

Raccoon City.

For a moment, he’s dizzy. The world tilts and spins around him, threatening to throw him to the ground. His brain is flashing back to that damn night. The screaming and gunfire. Faces contorted in pain. Bodies destroyed by the virus. Corpses walking towards him, teeth bared and ready to bite. 

You’re still muttering something over his shoulders, fingers twitching against his arm.

“Close that door… They’re getting in!”

His own hand finds yours. For a moment, he can’t tell if it’s you that’s shaking, or him. He’s not sure he’ll like the answer either way. His mind is still somewhere back in that damn city. The city that you must’ve been in too. His worst day and yours are intertwined. How far away from him had you been? The hospital wasn’t far from the police station. Had you been there while he was? Been fighting for your life at the same time as him?

“... He’s only six… Please, carry him… He can’t run fast enough…”

His grip on your hand tightens. What had you seen back then? Who did you try to protect? Just how horribly, horribly wrong had it gone?

He feels a drop of wetness land on his bicep. When he glances over, there’s fever sweat dripping down your forehead. Your body feels too hot against his. Part of him debates doubling back to the cave. Dipping you in the cold water to try and get you to cool down. But, he knows that would probably only make it worse.

Your lips move again, and he stops in his tracks.

“... Officer… Please…”

His breathing halts. His body freezes.  You keep going anyway. 

“Please save him… That thing bit him… Don’t-! Don’t shoot!”

Your words are going frantic, body jerking and arms twitching. Leon has to force himself to move again. Carefully, he lowers himself, letting you slide off of him. His arms stop you from hitting the floor, instead lowering you down carefully, setting your upper body against a low pair of cabinets. At the motion, your eyes fly open, but your pupils don’t land on him. They flit about the room, taking in everything but nothing all at once. He positions himself in front of you, so that his face is the only thing you can see.

“Rabies?”

Your head shakes a little, limbs weak beside you. When he lifts a hand to your forehead, he nearly has to pull it back. You feel burning hot against the rough skin of his palm. Slowly, like he’s afraid he’ll scare you, he moves his hands to your arms, grabbing you. His touch seems to jolt you a little, pupils finally finding him and staying there.

Weakly, shakily, your head raises a little.

“... Leon…?” You sound unsure, like you don’t know if it’s him or someone else.

He nods. For a second, he wonders if you’re seeing him, or another person. A different officer from the same city that doesn’t exist anymore. How close had you two been back then? Within a mile of each other? Less?

There’s a sweaty clump of hair stuck to the side of your face, and he pushes it behind your ear cautiously. He lets your eyes track his hand. Lets you try and remember where you are and what’s going on. 

“Rabies, you need to listen to me.”

A small noise in acknowledgement. It makes his chest ache.

“I’m going to get you and Ashley out of here, alright?”

You nod, but he’s not quite sure if you understand what he’s saying. Your head perks up just a little when he says Ashley’s name, but you’re quick to settle it back against the metal cabinets again. 

Leon grits his teeth, whipping his head around to take in his surroundings again. There’s an elevator, but it looks to be powered off. With any luck, the power control is a little deeper into the facility. But, is it safe? Is it too dangerous to drag you in there with him? Or would it be worse for him to leave you here while he restores the power? You’re closing your eyes again, face going slack with exhaustion. It sends adrenaline racing through his veins.

The shotgun is still strapped to your back. Carefully, gingerly, he leans you forward, taking it off of you and depositing it into your hands. 

“I’m going to be back, okay? I’m not leaving you here.” He pats the shotgun, pushing it further into your hands. When he checks, there’s still a handful of rounds left. “Use this if anything comes through that door.”

Your fingers curl weakly around the barrel of the shotgun, other hand going to the grip of it. Your eyes still don’t open. 

“... Okay.”

He nods, letting out a low breath. When he stands, he spares one last glance to you. Still on the floor, body propped up halfway while your hands hold the gun that almost looks too strong for you. Hours ago, he knows that you could have handled that weapon just fine. Now? He’s not sure how you’re even still conscious. 

He takes a step, and freezes. Somewhere, deeper into the facility, he can hear something. A scraping noise. Loud. Harsh. Metal on metal, it sounds like. The noise rings through his body, reverberating in his head. The sound isn’t coming from machinery or lab equipment, no. It’s coming from something alive.

One last glance back. Your head has gone slack, resting all of your weight on the cabinets. Then, he starts moving. 

.

.

.

The further into the lab he goes, the worse it feels. 

The noises aren’t stopping. They move around him slowly, like they’re following him through the walls. Sometimes, when he stops moving and tilts his head to hear it better, the noise seems to stop with him. Whatever it is, it’s tracking him. As he moves, the scraping noise goes from above him, to his side, and then somewhere impossibly far to the left.

He’s unnerved, yes, but part of him is almost relieved. If it’s tracking him, then it’s leaving you alone. At least this way, he knows where it is. He knows it can’t hurt you if it’s on him. 

When he finally reaches the power switch, it feels painfully easy to flip it back on. Across the lab, back where he left you, he can hear the elevator power on. He turns, ready to get back to you, ready to get the hell out of here-

The metal grate next to his head explodes, shards of metal and debris flying out towards him. He barely manages to dodge it in time, shards of steel coming within inches of his body. Something flies through the wall. Huge. Dark as night. He’s turning on his heels within an instant, trying to catch sight of whatever nightmare he’s about to face.

The creature in front of him is massive. It has a semi human face, though contorted and mixed with something insectoid. Its body is covered in some kind of chitin, stretched limbs covered in the armor. It’s staring right at him, a strange, high pitched chittering noise coming from the mandibles in front of its jaw. It stares at him, unblinking, limbs folding and unfolding like a praying mantis. 

Leon doesn’t think. He readies his pistol, turns, and runs.

It chases after him with reckless abandon, limbs creaking and snapping as it runs. He doesn’t look back. He has to get back to you. To grab you, throw you into that elevator, and get the hell out of here. With any luck, he can somehow slow it down enough so that it won’t follow. When he comes across a turn, he nearly skids off balance, somehow managing to stay on his feet and keep going. The monster slams into the wall as it tries to follow, a few bricks shaking loose. It stops for a moment, its body chittering and jerking, before sprinting at him again.

Just as he comes across another turn, he spins, pistol up and firing. Bullets hit the thing square in its forehead, flesh exploding and blood spitting out. But the thing keeps coming, even as chunks of its face are slipping off its body to the floor. When he shoots lower, trying to take out the creatures makeshift knees, the bullets just ricochet uselessly off of the chitin. 

He’s about to keep running, to keep trying to slow it down, when a noise interrupts him. 

Across the facility, he can hear a groan of pain. Breathy and feminine. Yours.

The creature stops in its tracks, turning its head inquisitively. A few more odd chirps spill from the creature’s mutated jaws.

Then, it turns away from him, towards a vent in the wall, and barrels through it. Out of sight in a flash. He can hear the scraping noise from before, this time farther away from him. Towards…

“Shit!” Leon moves so fast that it amplifies the pain in his heart, the burning in his lungs. He ignores the way it tries to steal his breath away. “Rabies!”

He’s taking off before he can think. His muscles ache, his lungs feel like they’re going to burst. The parasite in his chest feels like it’s clenching around his heart, constricting him. Stopping him. But he keeps moving. Even as pained spots bleed into his vision, white stars forming in front of his eyes.

The pain doesn’t matter. He has to get to you before that thing does. 

When he finally skids back to the room he left you in, body aching and head dizzy, he wants to scream in relief that the monster isn’t there. You’re still against the cabinet, head limp but body tense, hands clutching the shotgun. But, then he glances over to the elevator.

It isn’t there yet.

The dials above the doors show that the elevator itself is only about halfway to you both. The dial is moving lazily, the mechanisms slow. Fuck. It’s going to take at least a few more minutes for it to arrive. 

His heart drops, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. The wall beside him explodes into shards of brick. In a flash of shiny black, the creature is barreling past him, going straight towards you.

He’s about to scream, to run, to shoot, anything. Anything to keep it away from you. He doesn’t get the chance.

A blast rings out.

You’re still sitting there, looking feverish and exhausted, Your face is still flushed, shoulder still bleeding. But, your arms are up, shotgun aimed perfectly at the thing's face. Your eyes are slits, your pupils struggle to focus, but the barrel stays trained squarely on its face. 

It stops for a moment, more red cascading down its features, head snapped at an unnatural angle. Then, it roars. A high pitched, awful noise. One that grates on his ears and makes his head hurt. Leon doesn’t waste the opportunity. He’s surging forward, past beast, past the blood and the spent shotgun shells. His hand grabs your good arm, forcing you upright even as your body fails. His arm moves to loop around your waist, tugging you deeper into the lab. If he can move fast enough, then maybe, just maybe, he can avoid the thing until the elevator arrives. 

“What’s- What’s happening?” Your head is tucked down, and though he isn’t looking, he can imagine your eyes are closed again. Your body is almost completely limp, legs not supporting any of your weight. It’s slowing him down, but he’s going to have to manage. 

His head shakes, hand gripping along your side. “Don’t worry about it. Just stay conscious.” 

Your boots scrape uselessly against the floor, as though you're still trying to walk under your own power. Behind him, he can hear the noise again. Metal on metal. Creaking limbs. The horrible scraping noise as the monster keeps hauling towards you both. The noise only spurs him on, his feet hitting the floor harder, legs moving to keep going faster. Still, it’s not fast enough. He can hear it rushing him, getting closer every second. The ground beneath him shakes as it gets closer. He can tell it’s within a few feet of him now, so close that he can feel air move as claws swipe in his direction.

He does the only thing he can to get you out of harms way. He drops you.

You fall to the floor, a sharp cry tearing from your throat. But, it works. Instead of you, the creature hits him full force. It sends his body flying sideways, hitting the wall with a sickening crunch. Pain blooms in his back. Sharp. Intense. Heavy. For a second, his vision whites out, the world disappearing away. Even his hearing dissolves into a high pitched ringing as fire shoots down his spine. He feels like he’s going to vomit. 

“Leon!” Your voice breaks him out of his trance. You’re on the floor, eyes trying to track him as the creature steps closer to his frame. “Move!”

Your hand is reaching up, towards a button that he hadn’t seen before. It’s glowing a dull green in the dimmed lights, so faint that he can barely see it himself. Before he can process what you’re doing, he’s up, throwing himself to the side. He has no idea what you’re reaching for, but he does it anyway. At the same time, your hand slaps the button, and you roll over best you can, shielding your face from whatever seems to be coming.

Freezing white mist billows up from the floor in an instant. 

Even from feet away, the cold chill sends a shiver down his spine. Leon watches in awe as the creature bellows in what seems to be agony, white enveloping its hulking form. It flails, claws reaching for him, but the movements are slowed and sloppy. Each motion makes its limbs creak hollowly, struggling to move as the freezing cold takes hold of its body.

By the time the white stops, the creature is frozen in place, limbs still reaching out emptily towards his body. His eyes flick from the frozen creature to you. You're still on the floor, breathing hard. The shotgun has slipped from your grasp, laying beside you on the floor.

“Holy shit.” The words leave him as a breath of overheated air. His pupils track how close the thing’s claws had gotten to his body. Its outstretched fingers are within inches of his chest. Up close, the claws are even sharper. Almost like daggers.

You’re shaking again, he realizes. It hits him like cold water.

You look up at him as he stands, head weakly moving to follow his steps.

“... Are you- You okay?”

Fuck. You still sound awful. He has to shake away his worry. With any luck, Luis and his medicines are close. He said he had something to help you. To help Ashley. Hell, to help him. He has to keep moving, and he has to do it now.

He does his best to put on a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, Rabies. Let’s get to that elevator.”

y/n had landed at the edge of the omatikaya forest, na’ring.

she heard their olo’eyktan was good and just.

tsu'tey his name was.

she hoped maybe he would be able to see past her offenses.

she had only done it to protect her son.

the lush jungle lit up around her. she brushes her hand over the large leaves, letting it light up beneath her. y/n smiles. how different here was from her home.

a small sprite landed on her shoulder. it was white, it floated gently. she blew it away n

she found the camp.

she walked through the camp with her hands raised in the air, y/n gently shushes her son as he starts to wake.

y/n shows her respect to the omatikaya. raising her hand to her forehead and lowering it.

they parted and let her walk through the camp. s/n name started to whimper louder.

“it’s is alright my love. we’re almost home.” y/n soothes.

she finally made it to where the clan leaders sat. there sat mo'at, the clan’s tsahik, her daughter neytiri and the olo’eyktan, tsu'tey.

he was a handsome na'vi, this was true, but his piecing stare makes y/n stop in her tracks.

y/n calms her breathing down.

“why are you here child?” mo'at asks.

“mo'at, i see you. my son and i, we come seeking uturu.”

many voices clambered. speaking out in shock, uturu? for what?

“why do you seek this? uturu?” tsu'tey speaks. his voice echoes through the crowd.

tears start to full y/n’s eyes. the exhaustion of traveling started to ache in her bones.

she falls to her knees. her son started to cry.

“i c-cant…”

mo'at and neytiri rush to y/n’s side. they both help her up. “dear child. you have come a long way. at least let us feed you.”

mo'at waves her hand and the omatikaya disperse, going back to what ever it was they were doing before.

tsu'tey studies the na'vi woman holding her child. he could see how tired she was. she looked at him with pleading eyes. what happened to her?

even under all her sadness, he could not deny her beauty.

mo'at and neytiri help y/n into the tsahik’s tent. they help her sit. mo'at orders neytiri to fetch some food, neytiri obeys.

“thank you mo'at.”

“what is your name?”

y/n tells her.

“your name travels far y/n. i believe i know what brought you here.” that voice, tsu'tey. he walks in the tent and sits down by mo'at.

“please. i only did it to defend my son.” y/n pleads.

“what exactly happened?” tsu'tey asks.

y/n takes a deep breath.

her husband had betrayed her. he had been with another woman. for many moons. how y/n did not see she does not know. she shakes her head in shame.

“i was leaving him, he grabbed me…” tears start to form in y/n’s eyes.

“he choked me, he destroyed my song cord. he threatened to murder me if i left him. i told him to let me go, but then he threatened my son.”

tsu'tey straightens. mo'at looks to him. they share a look.

“i don’t know what came over me. I grabbed my knife… i wasn’t going to kill him, but…”

“you were protecting your son y/n.”

“was i? or did i just hurt a hurting man?”

“you hurt a coward. you saved your son. he would’ve done far worse to you and him. you saved yourself.” tsu'tey answers.

y/n shakes her head. “i do not feel that way. no one would listen. eywa forgive me.”

neytiri enters the tent and sees y/n’s crying form. she sets her food down and wipes the tears from her face. how kind she was.

she offers to hold s/n. y/n asks her to be gentle with him.

neytiri holds him softly against her. she take to him gently, letting him know his sa'nok (mother) was nearby. he calms in neytiri’s arms.

y/n and neytiri speak quietly as mo'at and tsu'tey speak amongst themselves.

y/n was not a threat, this assured them. they wondered about her clan and how they could cast out a woman and child without listening to her side of the story.

y/n finished eating her meal. she thanked neytiri and took back her son. she lowered her wrap and began feeding her him. the two continued their conversation.

tsu'tey turns to look at y/n. she seemed content now having food. she looked beautiful as she fed her son. he could see the pure devotion in her eyes. this woman was no danger.

his heart softens.

he turns back to give her privacy. he listens to mo'at speak. they came to agreement.

“y/n,” mo'at places her hand on her shoulder. “we grant you uturu.”

y/n covers her mouth and begins to sob. “thank you!” she cries out. she covers herself and holds s/n close. she puts her hand on mo'at’s. “may eywa bless and watch over you and your child here.”

y/n turns and nods her thanks at tsu'tey. he bows his head.

“we won’t be a burden i swear to you. i can hunt, i can weave, i can-“

“y/n,” tsu'tey holds a gentle hand up. y/n silences herself. “do not trouble yourself with that tonight. we will provide you with shelter. you will stay with us. you will learn our ways. i have no doubt of you abilities, nor your son’s.” He smiles down at the bundle in y/n’s arms.

“thank you tsu'tey. i see you.” y/n says softly. she could feel her chest begin to get warm in the presence of tsu'tey.

“and i see you y/n.” he places a hand on her shoulder.

something stirs within tsu'tey, certain protectiveness in his chest.

he swears to hismelf, to y/n, and, to eywa that y/n and s/n would always be safe under his protection as long as he lived.

"look at you," he murmurs, his voice a gravelly rasp that's so unlike the cheerful man who plays with lemurs. he’s kissing your jaw, his tongue hot and wet, tracing the line where your skin meets the cold mountain air. "my girl. my perfect, beautiful girl. you’re taking all of it, aren’t you? every bit of me."

he’s sweet with his praise, calling you precious even as he uses his bending to hitch your legs higher, pinning your knees to your chest in a mating press that leaves you completely open to him. his cock is a thick, pulsing intrusion, sliding through the slick remnants of the last two times he’s come inside you.

"i want to see it leak out of you," he whispers, his words turning filthy as he thrusts deeper, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your vision go white. "i want you so full of me that you can't even walk straight. i'm going to put so much in you that your body has no choice but to keep it. you’re going to carry my children, okay? we’re going to bring them back. all of them."

the dirty talk is a shock to your system. this is the boy who blushes at a compliment, yet here he is, describing exactly how he wants to ruin you with a clinical, pervy specificity. he’s using his airbending instinctively now, small puffs of air circulating around your sensitive spots, keeping you in a state of constant, vibrating overstimulation. your clit feels like it’s being buffeted by a storm, and your internal walls are clamping down on him in desperate pulses, trying to find some kind of release that keeps being pushed just out of reach by his tireless pace.

"please... aang... i can't—" you babble, your voice breaking as he hitches your hips even higher. your back is arching off the furs, your fingers clawing at his forearms, where the blue arrows glow. "it's too much... it's too much..."

"it's not too much," he counters, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that pins you in place. "you can take more. i know you can. i want you to feel every inch of me filling you up. i want you to remember this feeling every time you look at the sky. i’m the avatar, right? i’m supposed to restore the air nomads. and i’m starting right here. with you. i’m going to fill you so full of my seed that there won't be room for anything else."

he begins to move faster, the slow, deep grinds giving way to sharp, staccato jacks that make your entire body jolt. he’s being so sweet with his hands, cupping your face, brushing the hair back from your sweaty forehead, yet his lower body is a machine of pure, unadulterated lust. the contrast is dizzying. he’s praising you, calling you his everything, his soulmate, his world, while his hips are delivering a relentless pounding against your pelvic bone.

the overstimulation is peaking. you can feel the pressure building in your lower belly, a tight, coil of heat that’s about to snap. your breath is coming in short, ragged gasps, and the room is starting to spin. the smell of him—that sweet, peachy scent of his skin combined with the raw, salty musk of his sweat—is the only thing keeping you grounded. you’re lost in the rhythm, lost in the sheer, overwhelming presence of him.

"aang, i'm... i'm gonna—"

"go for me," he groans, his own voice hitching as he senses your climax. "let it go. squeeze me. show me how much you want it."

he delivers one final, deep thrust, his cock hitting your cervix with such force that your vision literally flashes white. your cunt clamps down on him like a vice, milk-hot and desperate, and that’s what finally breaks him. aang lets out a string of inaudible words, his back arching as he slams himself into you one last time. you feel the his third release flooding into you, a thick, scalding torrent that feels like it’s filling you to the brim. he pumps into you over and over, his balls drawing up tight against your folds, his entire body shaking with the sheer volume of his climax.

the silence that follows is thick, broken only by the sound of your frantic, synchronised breathing. aang collapses onto your chest, his weight a comforting, crushing blanket. he’s panting, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his heart beating a frantic rhythm against your own. you can feel the hot slickness of his cum beginning to overflow, a warm, wet trail sliding down your thighs and onto the blankets.

he stays inside you for a long time, unwilling to break the connection. he’s soft now, but the intimacy of the moment is even more intense than the sex was. he lifts his head, a lopsided, boyish grin returning to his face, though his eyes still hold that dark, lingering hunger. he reaches down, his fingers tracing the wetness between your legs, his touch gentle and possessive.

"i think i did it," he whispers, his voice light but filled with an underlying gravity. "i think i put enough in there to start a whole new generation."

he kisses you then, a soft, lingering press of lips that tastes like salt and peaches. he pulls back just an inch, his eyes sparkling in the dying candlelight as he watches a thick, white glob of his seed leak out of you and onto the dark furs.

"look at that," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "you’re practically wearing me. i told you, i’m not going to be the last airbender for much longer. we’ve got work to do."

Yet even in sleep, in quiet tiredness, you could feel that trail of wetness slick hot and dripping between your thighs.

Then you hear those — low grunts of his, mumbling your name and you feel that pressure coiling between your legs, something that was pushing inside you, stretching your hole open, and you feel your cunt wrap around something thick and long, and instinctively, your legs fall open, spreading even wider, and you feel the drag of it against your sensitive core, the wet clutch of your hole which tightens around something long hard and strangely bony.

What the fuck—

Finally your eyes flutter open.

And the first thing you see was your bare tits, your nipples hard and peaking, while your t-shirt remained shoved up to your neck.

Then your gaze drifts below, on your cunt, no underwear -- and you groan, a sleepy smile appearing at the corner of your mouth as you realize who it could be, then you see him.

Leon.

Sweaty and utterly disheveled before you.

His pupils blown wide as he hovers over you already naked, his cock free and hard, jutting thick and heavy against his stomach.

His fingers are still buried deep in your cunt, and he curls them with a sly smirk. "Oh," he breathes, his voice rough with restraint as he sees your eyes open. "Pretty girl. You're awake."

"Mm, hi, what time is it, Lee—" He doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath. Instead, he pushes his digits inside until they meet with that spongy spot hidden behind your urethra.

"Leon!" you sleepily grumble, fingers clutching the sheets beneath you in a strong grip, back arching off the mattress.

He only smirks, crooking his fingers and rubbing slow, devastating circles on the roughness that spot carried, "Shh," he croons, watching you squirm. "Don't worry about the time, pretty girl. Worry about how you're gonna come on my hand again."

honestly you had told him yes for this -- when that conversation happened, weeks ago -- when he told you about his somnophilia, and you discussed about your boundaries, his desires, the twisted thing that made him ache.

You'd looked him in the eye and said yes, that he could take you, gave him permission to fuck you like this, unconscious and pliant.

because the truth was you'd agreed to be his, even in sleep, and you had be more than happy -- if he fucked you -- anytime he wanted.

His fingers curl inside you again hitting, that spot that makes your hips jerk involuntarily, and a choked sound catches in your throat, while you're still half-drowned in exhaustion.

your body heavy and uncooperative even as it responds, slicking his hand, clenching around him. "you came for me," he whispers enchantedly, watching your face with dark fascination, "you kept mumbling my name, like you knew it was me, who was finger-fucking you" he groans and withdraws his hands slowly, pushing his fingers out, then drags them through your slicked folds, spreading your wetness over your swollen slit, which makes you jump out of your skin, for a hot second.

"While you were sleeping," he continues, voice low and reverent. "Felt you clench and flutter around my fingers, your walls were spasming so hard, pretty girl."

"I came?" you ask sleepily, swallowing the lump of saliva that seems to gather in your mouth, your voice rough with disuse and lingering dreams.

"Very hard." Then he circles your clit with his thumb, pressing the engorged nub just enough to make you whimper. "Can you do it again. Please."

You gasp out a 'yes,' your back arching off the mattress as the orgasm rips through you —sharp, and absolute.

Your cunt spasms around his fingers finally, and you scream, toes curling into empty air, your walls fluttering like butterfly wings set loose in a garden: soon, something hot and binding builds and releases, pushing out of you in waves that leave you moaning, utterly satisfied. "Go back to sleep now, pretty girl," he murmurs, withdrawing his hand before giving them a clean lick and already positioning himself between your trembling thighs, guiding that thick, hard cock to your soaked entrance. "I've got you."

"Mhm.." you crooned, dazily.

Then without a warning he pushes himself in—splitting your guts open and your eyes roll back in your head.

Fuck the stretch where he is wedged between your legs burns so good, and your body yields around him as he sinks to the hilt, leaning and groaning low and guttural against your neck.

His hips settle heavy between your thighs, forcing them wider, and he stays there for a moment, pulsing inside you, feeling you flutter and adjust around his length. "Fuck, pretty girl, your cunt is so wet."

You were exhausted your conscious slipping barely at the edges then he moves now at first—dragging his cock out almost to the tip, watching your face with dark, hungry eyes, before slamming back in.

The impact shudders through you, your tits bouncing with each thrust, sensitive nipples dragging against his bare chest. He sets a rhythm, relentless and deep, angling his hips to grind against your clit with every stroke.

"Christ, you are dripping for me," he pants, while his forehead drops to yours, sweat dripping from his temples onto your cheeks. "Even asleep, you are responsive like this."

His hands find your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, while he lifts you slightly to meet his thrusts, and your eyes remains closed as you blissfully take him whole.

The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room wet, and obscene mixed with his ragged grunts and your soft, involuntary whimpers.

He snaps his hips harder pacing his cock inside you, chasing his release, and for a moment you feel him drilling endless holes straight into your gut, ripping your womb apart, and you feel every ridge of his cock dragging against your walls, that spot inside you getting pounded over and over. "Gonna fill your womb," he growls, his teeth grazing your jawline. "Fucking lord--."

With one final thrust, he buries himself so deeply that you feel the press of his cock in your belly.

For a long moment he stays there, throbbing and swelling impossibly larger around your walls, while your walls clench around them.

Then finally he spills, his hot, thick, seed flooding you whole as his whole body shudders and jerks emptying himself with a ragged groan against your lips, and your third orgasm rips through you, too, making you jolt awake, and you pant hard. "Fu...Fuck.. Leon, you are a beast."

He chuchkles darkly then his weight collapses onto you, heavy and spent, his cock still twitching inside your soaked cunt. He nuzzles your neck, breathing hard, one hand stroking your hair, "your beast," he corrects, then a soft smile appears at his face, as he didnt just fuck you awake, "close your eyes now" he grunts and presses lazy kisses to your shoulder, still buried in you, sealing his cum deep into your cunt, "I've got you."

and you do — with a satisfied smirk, you finally drift under him, full and completely used and his, while the last thing you feel, before sleep drowns you in is the warm cock of him softening inside you.