#and you just have to sit here and deal with it because there is no word

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Yea so Ody is finally home and he’s with his wife and son. It’s all cool and fun. But hold on. Can you imagine how HORRIFYING Odysseus and his family must be to other Royals now?

Here is a king that fought monsters, witches, slaughtered most of the male Nobles in his kingdom. FOUGHT POSEIDON AND MADE HIM BEG FOR MERCY!

And worst of all, he is crazy smart. So negotiating or trying to make deals with Odysseus must be the most horrifying thing in existence at the time. You can’t threaten him, you can’t negotiate a better position than him, you can only just sit there and smile as you pray you don’t accidentally offend him.

Oh and that’s not all, If Penelope also dislikes you, you’re f***ed. Because Odysseus fought a war for 10 years over an oath. Imagine what he would do if someone tried something with his wife… OH WAIT, we don’t have to. He SLAUGHTERED them! And she might not even need him to.

She is from Sparta and by Odysseus own words JUST AS SMART AS HIM. The main reason she didn’t go out and fight those nobles/kick them out is because of the laws of hospitality (which are enforced by Zeus). But with her god piercer husband, she doesn’t need to be so polite anymore. And she held the kingdom together for 20 years! She knows how to handle business. So yea, don’t mess with her either.

And his kid? He’s a warrior of the mind now! Who has the favor of ATHENA! WHO in a very short time learned how to fight. Going from losing a fist fight, to fighting dozens of men who only overwhelmed him because he got TIRED of kicking their asses! He has ATHENA on his side as his best friend. Dont even try

Point is The Ithaca royal family is a f***ing nightmare to deal with now.

[thesquidgame]

The Moments After

Hwang In-ho x wife!reader

Part One Part Two

Summary: In-ho deals with your sudden collapse while you receive treatment.

Warnings: angst, medical emergency, hospital, stitches, blood, viral infection, understaffed hospitals, trauma, violence

Word Count: 2.5k~

In-ho didn’t know how slowly time could pass before today. Sitting in the sterile white hallway of the hospital, bouncing his knee, staring down at his blood-soaked hands, every minute felt like hours. He always thought that was an exaggeration, but here, in this moment, he knew it to be true. Every now and then he would look up when he thought that at least half an hour had passed, only to find that it had been less than a minute.

After he had run you into the ER, chaos erupted. An entire medical staff instantly swarmed you, asking countless questions, all that he was almost too frazzled to answer. He told them only what he knew; that you had been acting strange lately, what strange behaviors you had, and that he woke up earlier that night to find you throwing up blood. And that you hadn’t stopped since you had started.

After that he could only focus on you, screaming your name over and over again as you blinked your eyes slowly, in a daze of blood loss and whatever had happened to you to make you throw up so much.

And then, the hand he didn’t even realize was gripping yours slipped away from his. A nurse held him back as they wheeled you into a deeper part of the hospital that he couldn’t enter. It was suddenly very quiet. Unlike the insanity that had just happened around him, there was complete and total stillness around him. He was far enough into the hospital that the noises of the ER were inaudible. In-ho never knew how quiet a hospital could be, but between the silence, the white walls, and the glacial pace of time, it felt like he was being tortured.

It had been an hour since he had arrived in the hospital, he only knew because of how often he glanced at the clock before any staff talked to him. 

“Sir? Are your feet alright?” 5 AM, the time he knew the doctors changed shifts in your hospital. The man speaking was young and looked terrified by seeing a 40-year-old man covered in blood sitting in an empty hallway. “Are- are you okay?”

In-ho glanced down to see that tracks of blood were running from his feet. He just noticed the pain. He still didn’t care. “No, I need to know what’s happening to my wife?” He demanded as he stood up.

Shame washed over him. Why hadn’t he asked before? He knew the answer, he didn’t want to talk to anybody, that would make this real.

“Sir, I- I think you need to get some stitches first, your feet look-” 

In-ho made the difference between him and the young doctor. He picked him up by the collar and slammed him against the wall. In-ho didn’t consider himself a violent man, but right now he had no idea what he was capable of. 

“What happened to my wife.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“I- I think I need to treat your feet fi-” In-ho pushed him further into the wall.

The doctor gulped, “What- what’s her name?”

In-ho let go. “(Y/n) Hwang.”

“Nurse Hwang is your wife?” The doctor looked away.

“Yes.” In-ho had done countless trainings and interrogated countless criminals. He knew when someone was afraid of something. “Why are you looking away from me.”

The doctor started walking away, stammering, “If you come with me, I can help you find out what ha-”

“Don’t walk away from me. What aren’t you telling me.” The doctor stopped in his tracks.

When he turned around, In-ho saw tears on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. We- we didn’t know.”

In-ho stalked towards him, leaving almost no space between him and the younger man. “Didn’t know what.”

“We noticed she was acting strange. We thought- we thought it must just be stress.” He gulped, “and if it wasn’t,” he got quiet, “we didn’t know how to deal with it. We were all so stressed out all the time. We- we didn’t have any time or resources to step in or talk to her about it.”

They knew something was wrong with his wife, but they hadn’t done anything about it. In-ho wanted to grab the doctor and slam him against the wall. But he couldn’t. Hadn’t he done the same exact thing? Hadn’t he been too stressed to prod further about what was happening? In-ho thought that because you were a nurse, you would do something if you thought something was wrong, or talk to him about it. He was just as bad as them. No, he was worse. He was your husband. He was supposed to take care of you, that was what he had sworn to do on the best day of his life, your wedding day.

In-ho wanted to break down. He wanted to collapse and roll into a ball on the ground and cry. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know anything about your condition, he had to figure out what was happening, he had to do something.

In-ho croaked, “What happened to her?”

The doctor silently walked away, sensing what had just happened, and In-ho followed behind. “I’m going to see if anyone can come tell us what happened.” He pressed dials on a phone and called someone. “A doctor will be here soon. The surgery is almost over.”

Surgery? In-ho knew there was a reason that all of the doctors and nurses had rushed away and not come back, but hearing it was different than just simply knowing it.

“Can I look at the cuts on your feet?”

In-ho didn’t respond, just sat down in a chair and put his head in his hands. 

It was another long wait before anyone came out to talk to In-ho, and eventually, a woman and a man came out wearing scrubs, “Mr. Hwang?”

In-ho stood up immediately, staring at the doctor who looked to be the same age as him. In-ho didn’t have to ask the question, the doctor already knew what he was waiting to hear. The other doctor sighed, “She’s alive.”

In-ho let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “My name is Dr. Park, would you like to take a seat?”

He didn’t like that. In-ho knew that tone of voice. He had used the same one at his job when he was giving bad news. “No, tell me now.”

The doctor reached up and took off his surgical cap. “Your wife had a large blood vessel in her esophagus explode, causing internal bleeding. We were able to help correct it using bands in surgery.” The doctor sighed again, as In-ho held his breath. “However, that isn’t the concerning part. There is almost always an underlying condition causing this. We sent a rush blood panel down and found that your wife’s liver results came back abnormal. We believe she has cirrhosis.”

Cirrhosis. He had only heard about this in passing when you were studying for your nursing exams. You had made a stack of notecards at least three feet tall, and he spent weeks quizzing you. In-ho had always had a good memory and was usually able to pick out pieces relating to the disease, but for some reason, he couldn’t remember anything relating to cirrhosis.

“What, what does this mean?” In-ho said, panic exuding through his voice.

“I’d like to talk further when your wife wakes up, it’s best if we discuss with the patient and the patient’s family there.”

In-ho wanted to was rush over and hit this doctor until he told him everything he wanted to know, but his priorities were still on you. He had to conserve his energy, and arguing with the doctor would only take more energy than he had to waste. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, she’s right this way.” This doctor said nothing about the blood In-ho was leaving on the floor. He had been doing this a lot longer than the other one and knew that stitches were the least important thing in In-ho’s mind at this point.

You were lying in the bed, still unconscious from surgery. “We were able to go in laparoscopically, meaning that we put a tube down her throat and operated from there.”

In-ho didn’t care about what that meant, he just rushed to your side and grabbed one of your hands in both of his. Your hands felt cold and clammy, and he looked to your side to see that there was a blood bag attached to your arm next to another one giving you other fluids.

“Is there anyone we can call for you? You were listed as her emergency contact, so we weren’t sure if you had any family you’d like us to call.” The nurse waiting next to Dr. Park asked. 

In-ho didn’t pause, “Yes, my brother.” He realized that he had left his phone in your apartment in his rush to get you to the hospital. He quickly gave Jun-ho’s number and went back to directing his complete and full attention at you.

In a couple of minutes, the young doctor from before came into the room pushing a small metal cart. “Mr. Hwang, can I quickly treat your foot wounds? You won’t have to leave her side. It’s best to do it now so you won’t have to leave her side later if it gets worse.”

In-ho didn’t move, and the doctor took it as a sign to continue. The younger doctor had clearly been lectured on what best to say to the loved one of an injured person. He painstakingly pulled glass piece after glass piece out of In-ho’s foot, washed each cut carefully, and then stitched up each one. He was in miserable pain, but In-ho didn’t move. It was a small dosage of the punishment he deserved for ignoring your illness.

The doctor silently left after he was finished wrapping the wounds, and In-ho continued the self-inflicted torture he put himself through inside his head.

The door burst open, and Jun-ho rushed inside, a nurse hot on his heels. “Sir, you can’t be in here! It’s not visiting hours.”

“It’s 6:45, visiting hours start in 15 minutes,” Jun-ho said, ignoring her further protests to run forward and kneel next to his brother. “In-ho, are you alright? What happened? They wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone.” 

“She’s sick. She’s really sick.” In-ho said. 

Jun-ho’s face was shocked. “What are you talking about? How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know. I- I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think it could be this.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “she had to have surgery. She started…” In-ho shuddered, “she started throwing up blood earlier this morning, and I had to drive her to the hospital.”

Jun-ho didn’t know what to do, or say. His brother was glued to your side, so he couldn’t hug him. They had been through something slightly similar when Jun-ho was 8 and their father had died, but past it both being sick family members, everything else was different. In-ho was 20 when their dad died, and he was the one comforting Jun-ho. Now it was Jun-ho’s turn, and he had no idea how to do it. 

This was his wife. The reason In-ho got out of bed in the morning; you were his entire life. Your wedding date was his passcode, and his lock screen was you on the day you graduated nursing school.

“In-ho, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Do they know what it is?”

In-ho squeezed your hand tighter, “I don’t know the details, but it’s something with her liver. It’s… It’s bad Jun-ho.”

There was nothing else for Jun-ho to say. No band-aid that could fix it, not call to anyone to change it. He sat down next to his brother, and like In-ho, waited.

It was only a couple of hours before you woke up, dazed and blinking slowly. Your eyes immediately moved towards the man holding your hand, “In-ho?”

Your voice hurt to speak, it felt like there were rusty nails in your windpipe.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” In-ho surged toward you, beginning to stroke your hair with his hand.

“What- what happened?” You saw In-ho’s brother push a button next to your bed.

“What do you remember?” He said, slowly and soothingly.

“I remember feeling sick, and getting up to throw up, and- and that’s it.” You said, blinking in confusion.

In-ho looked like he started to say something before a doctor and a nurse walked into the room, both of them being people you had worked with before. Dr. Park was the nicest doctor in the hospital you thought. He was a man of few words and never sugarcoated anything, but he always took care of his patients' needs. The nurse was a new hire, she was one that you always covered for, and there was a strange expression on her face.

“Ms. Hwang, I’m glad you're awake.” He said, pulling a stool forward that had been in the corner of the room. 

“My husband was just about to tell me what happened.” You said, still confused at what was happening.  You looked up at In-ho, and there was a look of sheer terror on his face, confusing you even further. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

He did his best to wipe that look off his face, but it didn’t really work, “nothing, I just want to hear what the doctor has to say.”

Dr. Park took a deep breath, before explaining something that would change your life forever. “Ms. Hwang, your husband brought you in early this morning after you threw up blood. He told us that you had been having some odd symptoms, and frankly, some of the staff were able to recount some for me as well. We did some blood work, and noticed some unusual things.” You held your breath. “The first thing we noticed, was that you tested positive for Hepatitis C, do you have any knowledge of this?”

You and In-ho were both shocked, “no, I- I had no idea.” 

Dr. Park sighed again, a sound that was quickly becoming foreboding, “Do you have any past use of drugs, any knowledge of any family members carrying the virus, or any contact with used needles.”

And then it hit you, “Yes. When I was in my first month as a nurse I got stuck with a used needle. My boss- my boss told me that it happened to everyone at some time or another and that we were busy and had to move on.” 

In-ho looked at you horrified, “Honey, what does the disease do?” He whispered, addressing you and not the doctor.

But Dr. Park cut in, “It’s a virus that can go away on its own, but other times it can stay in the body symptom-free for decades before showing harmful symptoms. It’s unlikely to be transmitted through sex, but you should get tested as well.”

While the doctor was speaking, the pieces connected in your head. Hepatitis C, vomiting up blood, the symptoms you thought were nothing. “My liver is failing, isn’t it.”

The four other people in the room turned to you. The look on In-ho’s face killed you, so you had to look away and move your glance to Dr. Park.

He stared you in the eyes, and said, “Yes, it is.”

I'm taking a break from the series, I'll probably write part three after my next fic!

Tags: @bigdaddddyyyyy @kimeungun114 @eviesmoon @jspidey5 @kyl13sm1l3y @watasinekoru @starkeyszn @multifandomgirllol @annasnape7 @sylviavf @foulbreadpaenut @unaaasz @vrystalius @ultimate-simp-10

[revelboo]

Hello! Just wanted to thank you again for all your stories. Like many other people have already said, please take care of yourself. But also, I hope you're still enjoying writing these! Like it hasn't become an obligation or a source of pressure. Take all the breaks you need.

(You likely already know to do that, apologies. Just saying it because many many years ago I *didn't* know that ^^; )

No worries. That’s actually why I’d stopped writing on FFN years ago- felt obligated to answer every single request. At this point, I’m just doing this for fun. I’d missed writing silly TF stuff and you guys are challenging me to write characters I’ve never even considered

Drive Pt 5

Constructicons x Reader

• Tangled in your blankets, you curl onto your side with one of the three books that been in the things Bonecrusher and Long Haul had brought you and try to keep awake as Scavenger’s scoop sways with his steps. You’re not sure what they’re working on, only that you’d been picked up blankets, book, and all by Bonecrusher and plunked into Scavenger’s scoop. Along with three more blankets, a pillow, a bottle of water, and a box of granola bars. Can hear them softly arguing as they work, occasionally getting jostled when someone bumps your current ride and you tip your head up to stare at the stars overhead. Freedom all around you and you can’t get down without breaking your neck.

• Heading over to Hook to check the blueprints Scrapper had made for them, Scavenger can feel the warmth of you, feel every time you shift around inside his scoop and it’s a strange, but not unsettling sensation having you there even though he’d protested when Bonecrusher had just dumped you inside without asking. And it wasn’t like he could deny that you’re safer with them than alone in their habsuite. “You still good back there?” He asks walking back to gather more materials and shivering when you lay a little hand against him.

• Grabbing Scavenger’s scoop when he tries to walk past and tugging to make his brother nearly bend backwards with a strained ‘frag off, you glitch,’ Bonecrusher checks on you. Ignoring Scavenger, he rumbles when you look up at him and smile. Holding his brother still with one big hand as he struggles and swears, Bonecrusher reaches to rub a servo against your jaw and warms when you reach to touch his servo. Chasing you down had been fun, but now he just feels guilty about it. But he still gets a thrill remembering the hunt. Maybe when your ankle is healed you’d let him catch you again?

• Sitting up when Bonecrusher finally stops petting you and lets Scavenger go, you really can’t figure out their deal. The six big mechs so rough with each other, jostling and arguing. And then treating you like you’re made of glass. They’d chased you down like predators going after prey, scaring you half to death and now they’re keeping you like a favored pet. They must want something from you, right? Or maybe they just like having something to care for. Standing, you try to see out over the top edge of the scoop.

• “Don’t fall and break something else,” Hook growls when he spots your little head peeking out and he reaches up to tap you gently on the nose with a servo until you duck back down out of reach. He can still see the top of your head, though as you move around. “Stay down,” he adds tiredly. Because the rest of the Decepticons seem to have lost their minds and he’d rather you stay out of sight. Megatron’s little message to the ranks and then that stupid brawl between the commanders in the hall has him on edge. Just keeps circling in his processor. Cybertronians and humans fragging. Primus. You should be safe out here in the woods, but he’s not sure what to make of any of it.

• Sitting back down, you listen to them working. Hear them pushing trees down. Mixmaster laughing raucously at something Scrapper said that you didn’t quite catch. The sounds of metal on metal, thumps and rumbles. Hooking an arm around your pillow, you stretch out on your belly with the book. There’s not really enough moonlight to read by, so you just listen to them work. Trying to figure out why you feel so safe with them when you should be scared, trying to escape.

Previous

[l-in-the-light]

"I'm sure he's got nothing to do with me!" says Luffy and I was waiting for him to say it. For him to hear all of this Nika lore and declare that, nope, I don't care, I'm not Nika, I'm not a liberator. It's just such a Luffy thing to do. But I know many fans actually will be shocked with Luffy's answer here or will just dismiss it. I have seen many opinions before that Luffy was always a liberator by choice, so becoming Nika is just natural course of events for him and he will have no problem embracing his role in the bigger scheme of things. Some even complained they hate that Luffy is Nika because they don't want Luffy to be the "fated hero" but instead a "from nobody to the king of the world" trope. But nope! Luffy just noped all of this himself.

Luffy is not a liberator and he's not an altruistic hero, he doesn't go from island to island aiming to save people, and if you think he wanted to, then please remember Fishmen Island and how unhappy he was with the idea of being a hero:

And now if you think Luffy changed since then because Dressrosa happened, then please remember what he asked of Momonosuke in Wano:

Yep, that's right. Luffy still *doesn't have any interest* in becoming a hero. If you think he's alright with that and changed his mind, then you're just not paying attention to him, sorry to say that. Luffy has been pretty consistent about this too and now he declared it yet again in Elbaf. It's the third time already.

You just think it's not a big deal because he so easily changed his mind in Fishmen Island, but it happened only because he had an actual reason to do that. Jimbei promised Luffy all the meat he wants. He gave him a *personal reason* to act like a hero, which is why Luffy agreed. And he did the same in Dressrosa. He wouldn't liberate that country if he didn't get attached first to Law and Rebecca (yes, in this order), and his crew to tontattas. They always do it for someone particular, for their friends. It's the same in Wano too, Luffy's constant motivation is Tama, Momo and Kinemon. He wants them to be happy, most of all, and he even says as much when he defeats Kaido: "I want a world where all of my friends can eat as much as they like".

There, he doesn't do it altruistically because he hates oppresion and villains who thrive on pain of common people and he can't stand seeing it. Yes, he probably thinks it's unfair, but he also grew up in Goa Kingdom, the very definition of unfair regime. He saves oppressed people only when they are his friends or has some other personal interest involved. He defeats the Marine base in Shells Town for Koby (and Zoro, later). He defeats Don Krieg so he can repay his food debt to Baratie. He defeats Arlong for Nami. He fights Wapol for Chopper (who saved Nami) and who he already considers his friend because of that. He fights for the Giants (Little Garden) and Vivi (Alabasta), Conis (Skypiea), Robin (Water 7 and Enies Lobby), Brook (Thriller Bark), Hachi (Sabaody) etc. Though, he does make friends rather easily, so usually it's not that big of a deal. But he isn't going out of his way to places he reads about in the newspapers that need to be liberated, he instead cares more for his own dream. He doesn't enter a certain island with the idea in mind that goes like "if I see some injustice here, I'm gonna bring this shit down". It's the other way around. He makes friends and realizes they're unhappy.

He wants them to be happy again and to live without regrets, and that's why he brings the shit down, whatever it is that makes people he cares about feel so unhappy. Because he thinks this is at least something he can do for his friends. Luffy doesn't think he can do a lot of things, he can't do much at all, but he can do one thing: beat up a guy when needed.

He knows how regret feels like ever since he believed Sabo died, he's not gonna sit there and do nothing next time something like this happens. That's why it's so important for him, to make sure his friends are happy. And that's why he beats up people and liberates countries. It's not for justice, he simply wants his friends to be happy.

But wait a moment, Luffy also wants freedom. Yes, he does. He wants to be the King of the Pirates, because for him it means to be free. And that's how he actually speaks about Nika as well:

He wants the freedom for himself. Isn't it funny that he thinks he already achieved it though?

And before you're disgusted by how selfish Luffy actually is, hear me out: Luffy is simply not a martyr. He won't die or sacrfice himself for the world to liberate it. He will instead die for the world if he thinks that will make his friends happy. Preferably though, he would want to survive and eat that meat with them, and be happy together.

Still, if you want him to be a liberator of a whole world it is actually possible, you just need to make it personal for Luffy, like I suggested. For example, put a person or multpile people who want to save/destroy the world (whichever option you fancy) on Luffy's crew. Luffy always cares for dreams of his crewmates and will always support them (because fullfilling their dreams will make them happy), so he would become a liberator if that helps them. But he would do it for them, not for the world.

Luffy is not a hero because he has a golden heart and a strong sense of justice. He's a hero when his friends are in danger instead, because instead of a golden heart, he simply has a big heart and makes friends wherever he goes. A martyr-like hero who sacrfices himself for people without caring for his own wellbeing is noble, but it's also not a healthy mentality, believe it or not. For starters, if you never care enough for yourself and are ready to throw your life away for a concept, what will happen with people who love you and care for you? Is it fair towards them to throw your life away without caring who you're leaving behind and how they will feel about it? Do you even care then for their feelings if your pursuit of greater good is more important to you? You can save the world and make people you love sad and unhappy, and like they don't even care anymore to live, because you were the one who made them happy and now you're gone. Did you save the world for them or destroyed it for them instead, as the result?

Luffy has his own interest in saving his friends too: so he's not alone again. Humans aren't selfless beings, but it doesn't automatically make us bad people either. And sometimes, while pursuing selfish things, we do something that appear to be extremely selfless. But at the bottom of it: we also do it for themselves, even if it kills us.

Tokyo Babylon taught me that every act is selfish, even if it appears like we do it for someone else: we simply want to feel better about ourselves then. There's nothing wrong with that, as long as we don't lose the sight of other people's feelings on our way. We can always share, after all, and that sharing is the bridge between the lone islands that people are.

Luffy, if he dies, will also say, just like Seishiro: "I didn't do it for you. I did everything by my own choice". For myself. Despite the fact it is also true he does it to make his friends happy. Being selfish and being selfless is like two sides of the same coin and both choices can end up actually hurting people. In the first case, because you care too much about yourself and too little about feelings of others, and in second case because you care too little about yourself and still too little about feelings of people that love and care for you. Can you spot the thing in common here?

[wholoveseggs]

I am currently dealing with my mother being in end care hospice for Alzheimer’s, dreading every time my phone makes a noise because it could be the worst news. I am spending my time either sobbing or a complete zombie with a barely functional brain. (I put a spray bottle in the freezer instead of the drink I was chilling). I live alone and have no close friends or family near me and I just wish I had an Elijah to hold me. I just wish I could lay on top of him in bed, him holding me and petting my hair while I cry.

I totally understand if this is not something you’re comfortable writing, but if you are, I’d really appreciate it. If nothing else, I thank you for reading my message.

Anchor

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} Grief threatens to overwhelm you, but Elijah's calming presence becomes your anchor, reminding you that even in your darkest hours, you are not alone.

♡♡ I love you, anon, and I’m so incredibly sorry that you’re going through this. My heart aches for you, and I hope that this fic can offer you even the smallest moment of comfort. You are not alone, and I’m sending you so much love and strength~ ♡♡

672 words - Warnings: angst, grief, comfort & cuddles

When you are a child, your parents are this big, strong figure. They seem invincible and all-knowing. But then you grow up. And one day, you realize that your parents aren't superman. They aren't invincible and they certainly aren't infallible. Your parents, the same people who were your entire world as a kid, are suddenly human. And sometimes, humans get sick.

Everyone reacts differently, and there's no right or wrong way to feel. There's no road map or set of instructions on how to mourn. You can be angry, or sad, or numb, or all three at the same time. It's a roller coaster, a freefall, and you never know when the next wave of emotions will hit. It's okay to feel what you feel. It's okay to want to hide. And it's also okay to want to be with someone, to have someone to lean on.

You can't change the fact that your parents got sick, and you can't change the outcome. The limbo of losing them while they are still alive is a terrible feeling, like an emotional purgatory. All you can do is focus on yourself, and remember that the pain will pass, eventually.

It was one of those nights when the weight of the world felt unbearable, crushing your chest and making it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on your couch, terrified to look at your phone, waiting for a call you dreaded yet knew was inevitable.

You didn’t notice Elijah’s presence at first. It wasn’t unusual for him to move like a shadow, quiet and gentle, especially when he knew you were hurting. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes full of concern, before approaching you with the kind of care only he could manage.

"My love," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He knelt in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. "You needn't face this alone."

His words broke something inside you. The dam of composure you tried so desperately to maintain crumbled, and the tears you’d been holding back poured out in waves. Elijah didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your sobs wracked your body.

He carried you to your bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and coaxing you to lay on top of him. His arms wrapped securely around you, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other ran through your hair with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

"You’re allowed to grieve," he murmured against your temple. "You’re allowed to feel lost, to feel overwhelmed. But know that I am here. You do not have to carry this burden on your own."

You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would send you spiraling into the abyss.

"I feel like I’m breaking, Elijah," you choked out. "I don’t know how to do this."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don’t have to be okay right now. You’re enduring something no one should have to endure alone. But you are stronger than you realize, and I will hold you through every moment of doubt and despair."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the sharp edges dulled ever so slightly. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear became an anchor, a reminder that even in your darkest hours, you had someone who cared deeply for you.

As your breathing evened out and the tears subsided, Elijah continued to stroke your hair, whispering soft reassurances. His presence didn’t fix everything. It couldn’t. But it made the unbearable seem just a little more manageable.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest, knowing that Elijah would be there, steadfast and unyielding, for as long as you needed him.

[thewinter-eden]

You Called?

images are mine (except middle HJ pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 5 of the skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: demon!Jisung is summoned by your friends during a drunken college party. They’re trying to scare you, pretend to summon a demon and then lock you in the basement until they decide to let you out, but then the demon actually comes, and he thinks your friends are jerks.

warnings: Fear/comfort, edgy but soft Jisung, terrorizing of minor characters, discussion of spiritualism/afterlife, my only reference for demons is Supernatural, reader is freaked out by witchcraft, slight disparaging of witchcraft and mysticism (does not reflect actual beliefs), Jisung is instantly whipped, deals, fear, this one turned out a little angsty, truth or dare.

word count: 5k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Of course you don’t. But clearly, your aunt did.”

Yes, it’s your aunt’s fault. If only she didn’t have a basement full of jarred herbs and tarot cards and ouija boards and weird leathery spell books, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. You’d be in a different one, for sure, because having the friends that you have isn’t your aunt’s fault, it’s yours, but still—you wouldn’t be locked in a basement with three of your friends browsing through your aunt’s dusty new agey books.

“Now, come on, sit around the circle thing.” One of your friends, Rami, tugs you down by your elbow to sit cross-legged on the edge of a chalk rune on the floor. It looks aged and scuffed and mostly faded by dust and time, but present enough to be identifiable as something mystical.

“I’m serious, I don’t think my aunt would have wanted us down here.” You mutter. It seems colder all of a sudden, chills covering your arms and shivering down your spine.

“Then she should have cleaned it out before she died I guess.” Rami returned, gesturing for Chae and Boyoung to sit down as well. “And besides, this was your penalty. You accepted it, so this is what we’re doing.”

You wouldn’t have accepted the stupid penalty for the stupid drinking game from the stupid college party upstairs if the alternative hadn’t been being cornered by the greasy frat boy who kept slipping his hands under your shirt every time he got the chance.

Next time your cousin tries to convince you to come over and “let loose with a couple of friends” you’re going to remember that her idea of hanging out is a massive college kegger.

“Alright, here it is.” Boyoung draws her legs up underneath her and rests the massive tome of the spell book she’s holding across her knees. She shoots the others a devious smirk, and then clears her throat. “Are we ready?”

You most certainly are not.

It’s not like you believe in the afterlife and mysticism and witchcraft and all of the other spiritualism nuances that your aunt was into, but you also recognize that you definitely don’t know everything about the scope of the universe. You’re willing to admit that you might be wrong about what exists and what is folklore, and you’re certainly not enthusiastic about playing around with the afterlife—just in case.

You’ve never even touched a Ouija board, because what if?

You don’t think they work, but what if?

And now, because you lost a stupid drinking game, your stupid friends are going to use the demon summoning ritual that your aunt just had, like it’s an old family recipe or something.

“Can I pick a different penalty?” You try again, your palms sweating. Yeah, sure, nothing’s going to happen because it’s obviously an old gift shop spell book (a really old, really big gift shop spell book), but all the half-burnt candles and chalk runes and hanging herbs around you are starting to freak you out.

Boyoung and Chae both shake their heads, while Rami reaches out and snatches your elbow. “This was the deal—one summoning spell, and then ten minutes by yourself. You agreed.”

You feel like crying.

You regret it. You regret coming. You didn’t like your aunt when she was alive—who gives their nieces and nephews cat whiskers and tinctures for birthdays?—and you certainly don’t like your cousin now—she clearly has a terrible idea of a good time—so why did you even come tonight?

At this point, you’re even wishing you can go back upstairs and ask the greasy frat boy to rescue you from your friends. They’re way too excited about leaving you locked in the creepy basement after a demonic invocation, whether they believe in it or not.

“Go ahead!” Chae nudges Boyoung. “Hurry up, I wanna go back upstairs.”

“It’s fucking creepy in here.” Rami agrees, rubbing her arms and jutting her chin towards the book.

“Why don’t we just do something else? Forget the basement.” You complain, starting to get back to your feet.

Predictably, Rami yanks you back down. “Rules are rules! Go ahead, Boyoung-ah.”

That’s how you find yourself sitting in a dark basement while your friend chants ominously in Latin, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon. Why did it have to be a demon summoning? Why couldn’t it have been a séance? At least if you were going to be playing around with pretend spiritualism, you could pretend to talk to someone you actually liked.

Your dad had died when you were little, you could pretend to have a tear-jerking reunion and then get the fuck out of that creepy old witch house once your friends were satisfied.

Why do you even call them your friends anyway?

You’re all just the members of a few too many group projects for your biology classes, more associates than anything else.

But Boyoung is still chanting, tripping over awkward pronunciation of the dead language and squinting through the faint light to see the faded text on the ancient pages.

You don’t think it’s your imagination when a whisper of air ruffles the hair at the back of your neck, but you’re also extremely anxious at the moment. So anxious that you physically jump when Boyoung slams the book shut.

“Done!” She chirps, hopping to her feet and dusting off the seat of her skirt. She fixes you with an evil grin. “Ten minutes by yourself!” Then she loops her arm through Chae’s and your three associates clamber back up the rickety stairs to the basement door.

Before they leave you, teary and trembling on the concrete floor, Rami pauses and looks back at you. “And no using your phone. If we see any light under the door, we’ll keep it locked for an extra ten minutes.”

It was a meaningless threat, because you know for sure they’re gonna go upstairs and get more drinks and find more friends, and you’re going to have to call your cousin to let you out after they forget about you.

So there you are. In the dark, in a creepy basement, all by yourself. You’re still sitting on the ground, cross-legged, your shaky hands gripping at your knees like it’s the only thing grounding you.

It’s just an empty basement.

It’s just you, by yourself.

You decide to close your eyes and focus on your breathing, counting the lengths of each inhale and exhale until the vague sounds of Boyoung’s invocation fades from your memory. You sit there, just breathing, urging the tension to melt from your muscles, until it feels like an eternity has passed.

The party is still in full swing on the floor above you, the music and laughter floating beneath the door down to you. You focus on the shouting voices until your spine relaxes.

When your eyes finally open and blink down at the bright screen of your phone, reading the giant numbers of the clock glaring back at you, you realize you’ve only been alone for three minutes.

Every ounce of tension returns, winding through the fibers in your muscles until it’s clamped around your bones and settled in the roots of your teeth. You’re still in a creepy witchy basement for another seven freaking minutes. As the darkness seems to physically seep into your skin, your gaze is sweeping the shadows of the room.

Bookshelves covered in spilled wax, random feathers, jars of little stones and dirt (hopefully dirt?), various crystals, tons of super old books, crates of more books, larger jars of plants and branches that you can’t begin to make sense of, and an aura that you can’t quite put your finger on.

You can’t say why you feel like you’re being watched, especially when you know you’re alone, but your heart is once again inexplicably racing in your chest.

There’s no one.

The shadow to your left is the marble bust of a saint or an angel or something, the one near your feet is the pile of musty blankets on an old wooden chair, the one straight ahead of you is the kettle that hangs from a frame over the ashy pit of a cold fireplace.

Honestly what the hell was your aunt up to before she died?

You bring yourself back, focusing on the cold concrete beneath your butt, the way your ankle is grinding into the floor, the cold that’s curling its fingers around your throat when your shirt slips off of one shoulder.

As you try to slip back into the calm refuge that you’d found with your eyes closed, desperate to not emerge from the pit of the basement with tear streaks of dust and mascara, all you can hear is your own breathing.

There’s no one in there with you, no one in the shadows, no one lurking behind the stairs.

Sucking in a deep breath, you hold it and listen to your heart pounding in your ears. It’s a trick you learned to calm yourself when you were young, counting to four between breaths. In the next few moments, you feel your body begin to relax and sink back into a neutral position.

Your lungs burn as you count to four for the tenth time.

The next exhale is loud.

And it is most decidedly not your own.

You shoot upright, hand snapping out to clutch at your phone. Fuck what Rami said, you need that flashlight. Tracking the shadows again as your sweat-slicked hands fight your thumbprint reader, eyes widely combing every inch of the dark room, you find yourself unable to peer past the blackness to see the source of the sound that made your heart flip.

Your phone just keeps shaking its “try again” message at you, stubbornly refusing to unlock.

Until you see them—and you realize that you’ve already been looking at them—your gaze landing on them a dozen times in the past thirty seconds, not even registering them.

Until they blink back at you.

Your fingers stomp your passcode in and swipe on the flashlight.

Cold white light floods the room, and he’s standing there, staring at you.

You scream, bundled nerves exploding your body backwards and you find yourself on your feet, scrambling back against a heavy bookshelf.

But he’s just standing there, watching you from the other edge of the chalk circle thing you were sitting on. His head is tilted slightly, sharp eyes hooded as he beholds you silently.

Your arm is practically spasming as you try to keep your light pointed at him and check all the walls and corners at the same time, your brain screaming at you to figure out where he came from. Where did he come from? There’s only one door in the basement, and it’s up the flight of stairs to your left.

“What the fuck?” You screech, your other hand scrambling for something—anything.

The man’s eyes narrow.

He’s not especially tall, but he’s lean and strong, dressed in all black, his raven hair curling over his forehead and neck. There’s something devilishly beautiful about him, about the honey of his skin and the flick of his tongue between his lips.

His eyes mimic yours, tracing you up and down, and his tongue flicks again. Then he opens his mouth and his chin twitches up, short locks of hair flipping away from his eyes. “You called?”

The sultry baritone of his voice floats to your ears with heavy, dangerous weight, and your fingers automatically clamp around the first thing you find. Before you can reason your way through your next decision, you hurl it—the book you’re suddenly holding—directly at his head.

The man flinches, knocking the book aside with the swipe of his hand, but doesn’t realize there’s a second one coming.

You’re pelting them as quickly as you can find them, yanking ancient (probably valuable) books off of the shelf, sending up plumes of dust everywhere, hurling them at the man as you edge your way towards the stairs. He’s standing between you and your exit and you’ll be damned (hopefully not literally) if you’re going to be sacrificed to a demon in your freaky aunt’s basement.

But then his voice reaches you with a completely different tone.

“Stop! Oh my god, stop!” He’s twisted away from you, his hands up covering his face. You see glimpses of his eyes gone impossibly wide, lips jutting out in a disbelieving pout, trying desperately to catch your gaze. He dodges another book and dances away from another. “Why are you—stop!—you called me!”

Another book strikes his shoulder and his pitch goes even higher.

“You literally called me! Stop!”

You stop.

He sounds so…offended that you’re battering him with books that you just plant yourself, clutching a heavy tome to your chest, gaping at him.

He takes a second to collect himself, smoothing down the sleek black jacket that wraps around his thick shoulders and falls snugly around his narrow waist.

Running a hand through his hair and shaking dust out of it, he gapes right back at you. “Do you know how rare it is for this to happen?” He demands, eyes still comically wide. “We don’t just come when called anymore! You—” He jabs a finger in your direction and you shriek, flinching. “Are lucky that I was curious!”

Your hope of coming out of this experience without wearing your mascara in crusted ribbons down your cheeks went out the window about fifteen books ago. “You…you’re…” You suck in a deep breath that sounds like it choked you all the way down. “You?”

The man glares at you, planting his hands on his hips. “You are unbelievably rude.” He decides, taking a step closer as though you aren’t literally hiding behind the giant book in your hands. “You reach through the veil to call upon a spiritual being in the year of our Lord, 2025, and when I answer the freaking phone you throw a library at me? This is why we don’t talk to you people anymore.”

But he doesn’t reach to touch you or attack you and stomp on your skull, so you lower the book away from your face ever so slightly.

He’s standing in front of you, arms crossed over his chest, a disappointed frown on his face.

You take a second to blink at him, a flood of tears trickling down your cheeks. There’s so much happening, so much shattering your entire perception of the universe right now, but there’s only one thing on your mind. “Did you just say ‘oh my god’?”

At your timid, whimpering voice, the demon’s eyes roll. “Are you serious right now?”

You flinch, stumbling back. “It’s just…” Your eyes wander and you mentally pinch yourself. But, honestly, he’s fucking gorgeous and your racing heart is making your head spin already. “You’re a demon?”

“Yeah, so?” He shoots back.

“So…” you swallow harshly. “God?”

This brings a smirk to his lips. “If you came down here to ask about God, I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

“I didn’t call you.” You argue, glancing behind you to make sure you aren’t going to be falling into a coffin or some other terrible thing that your aunt has hidden back there.

He looks confused. “You didn’t?” He glances around. “Someone did. It’s not like I can get the address wrong.”

“My friends called you.” There’s nowhere for you to go. You’re standing against the wall, mere feet away from a literal demon, and there’s nowhere you can run from him.

At the obviously otherwise empty basement, the demon raises his eyebrows at you. “Where are they?”

You shakily point towards the stairs as you slide down the wall to the floor. “At the party. It was a dare. A penalty for a dumb game—they were supposed to pretend to summon a demon with all of this weird shit and then I was supposed to stay down here for ten minutes by myself—they just wanted to scare me. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please just go away, I’ll never bother you, I swear.” You’re sobbing, completely overwhelmed, feeling completely exposed to this spiritual being as he watches you fall apart.

You’ve got the massive tome propped up on your lap, leaned against your forehead to shield yourself as you weep.

Do demons kill people?

Do they just possess people?

Are you going to go on from this night demon-possessed?

Are you supposed to pray or something?

Weight lifts from your bones as the tome is suddenly taken from you, and you blink past tears to see that the demon is crouched in front of you, dark strands of hair dancing with his eyelashes as he peers into your fearful face.

His gaze traces the trembling in your shoulders, your hands, your thighs, the rigid, bulging muscles in your throat and forearms as your body tightens with terror. When he speaks again, his deep voice is gentle. “Your friends summoned a demon and locked you in here by yourself?”

There’s nothing you can do but nod, wishing you hadn’t skipped your weekly phone call to your mom earlier. You wish you’d told her you love her, that you never meant to be possessed by a demon.

You see his hand lift and your eyes squeeze shut, a whimpering gasp rushing past your lips. If you get out of here alive, you’re burning down the basement and going to church.

But then his warm—feverishly hot, actually—fingertips glide over the wetness of your face, and his thumb is wiping at your tears. When your eyes snap open, he’s cupping your cheek in one hand but his eyes are black fire. “Stay here, baby, I’ll be right back.”

His touch disappears in a swirl of black smoke and he’s gone, vanished right before you like he was never there.

But your cheek is still throbbing from the heat of his palm, your heart thumping in your chest from the impact of his low voice.

Did he just call you baby?

All of that goes directly out of your mind because in the next second, you can hear enormous crashes of thunder above your head. The music from the party dies with an electric squeal that makes your ears sting, and then screams fill the air. The ceiling of the basement pounds and trembles with running footsteps from the floor above, furniture crashing and college students stumbling into things.

There’s a flicker from beneath the basement door, and then the light disappears.

The single bulb over your head goes out.

You scramble for your phone, turning the flashlight back on, heart hammering as you listen.

The screams begin to fade, sounding farther and farther away, until the house above you is completely silent.

Black smoke puffs in front of you and there he is again, the demon with the fire in his eyes.

The reflexive yelp that scratches up your throat is accidental, but it seems to douse the flames and the man’s gaze softens as he lowers himself to the floor, mimicking your folded-knees position. He lifts a hand and gestures to you, beckoning you closer.

Obviously you don’t move, terrified out of your mind. “What the hell did you just do?”

“I locked them in a room with me and scared them.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t as funny as they thought it was going to be. Your friends are assholes and I don’t think you should hang out with them anymore.” He tilts his head at you, his hand still extended. “I didn’t hurt them, I promise. They just ran away. As long as they stay away from you, they’ll be fine.”

You’re going to be completely honest with yourself, you didn’t have nearly enough wits about you to wonder if he’d gone up and slaughtered the whole bunch of them. But it’s nice that he didn’t, you guess.

“So.” He claps both hands to his knees. “This is a college party? I haven’t been to one of these in ages. Do you still play truth or dare?”

Your mouth falls open.

He scoots closer.

“Why as long as they stay away from me?” You’re grasping for understanding, wondering why you’re still on the filthy floor in the creepiest room you’ve ever found yourself in, staring at a demon who’s just asked you to play truth or dare.

The demon’s eyes narrow but his lips curl in a playful smirk. “Truth or dare, baby?”

You can’t help the shiver. Do you refuse to play? He’s a literal demon who can apparently call upon thunder and destroy sound and electrical systems and frighten the bejeezus out of an entire college party.

It stands to reason that playing the silly game is probably in your best interest.

“Truth.” The tiny whisper of your voice puts a flash of teasing disappointment in his eyes.

“Okay,” He says, and scoots even closer. “Are you grateful I made your friends piss themselves for you?”

A storm of emotions strike you. Are you grateful? Yeah, a little bit. It would have been hilarious to watch, now that you think about it. Are you confused as to why he did it? More than you can articulate. Would you have ever asked him to get revenge over a penalty that was supposed to be a joke? Honestly, probably not. Are you going to tell him that?

Hell to the no.

“Yes.” You swallow. “I’m grateful.”

He looks satisfied with your answer, with himself. “Good. Your turn. Ask me.”

You don’t want to ask him. You want to leave this house just like everybody else did, with your tail between your legs and your world changed forever—but alive. But you can’t. So you clench your fists and shed another round of tears. “Truth or dare?”

What would you even dare him to do?

“Dare,” He says devilishly, tongue flicking out to scrape his teeth. His eyes are mischief and intrigue, but they’re watching the trail of your tears with undeniable softness.

“I dare you…” Your voice chokes like a candle being blown out, and you struggle to get it back. “I dare you not to hurt me.” It’s pathetic. It’s laughably pathetic, but you’re scared beyond all reason and you need any kind of reassurance to keep you sane right now.

The teasing falls from his expression instantly, and a solemn stare levels with you. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe with me, I swear it.” His hands twitch, he wants to wipe the tears from your face, but he won’t—not again—not until you’re not afraid of him anymore.

You could weep all over again from the sheer anxiety of it all. “Why? Why would I believe you? Why me?”

He just smiles. “It’s my turn. Truth or dare?”

You are absolutely not ready to take a dare from a demon. “Truth.”

“Tell me your name. I’m Jisung.”

Jisung is looking at you like you’re a harbinger of hope, and you suddenly wonder if your name is supposed to hold power. Does giving your name to a demon give him power over you? Should you lie? Do you keep it to yourself?

But he gave you his name. (Or did he lie?)

You tell him. You’re locked in a basement with him—he doesn’t need a magical connection to you to kill you. He could hurt you whenever he wants.

He says your name out loud and you flinch, waiting. But your blood doesn’t boil, your eyes don’t explode, your brain doesn’t leak out of your ears. Your name on his tongue gives you confidence though, like he’s acknowledged you on an existential level and now you can look him in the eyes.

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth.” He already knows you won’t dare him to do anything, not while your mind is still racing with questions.

“Tell me why I’m safe with you, Jisung.”

He blinks at the strength in your voice, at his name in your mouth. It’s so overwhelming, to hear his name spoken aloud, that he has to turn away from you. How long has it been since he’s heard it? A millennium? An eon? Has it ever sounded so warm before? He’s blinking back tears, coughing past an ache in his chest, scrambling to collect himself before he looks back at you.

He could tell you any number of things and they would be true, but would they be enough? You’re the first face he’s seen in decades. You’re the first person who’s looked at him in years. You’re the first person who’s said his name without hurling it like a curse against him. You didn’t beg for your life when he appeared, you apologized like you bumped into him at the supermarket. Because he keeps waiting to see what you’re going to do next, say next, if you’re going to hold his gaze again.

But how does he say that to you?

He settles on his first realization of you. “Because you didn’t use me.”

You’re confused, fear falling away from your face completely as you puzzle through that statement. “I didn’t use you?”

He nods towards the book of spells that holds his invocation. “People summon demons to make deals—to use our power for their own gain. If we answer a call, it’s with the understanding that we’re being summoned to be leeched off of. You’re the first human I’ve ever come to who didn’t want anything from me.” If his throat tightens as he says it, he blames it on a millennium of loneliness and not the swell of pity that floods your eyes.

So he clears his throat and plops his chin in both palms. “Truth or dare?”

You’re warming up now, leaning into the rawness of the open wound he just exposed to you, and you feel your cheeks heat. “Dare.”

He’s stunned, delighted, and he smiles. “Dare?”

You swallow thickly, avoiding his gaze, and nod. “Dare.”

Jisung leans forward on his knees and one hand, the other lifting to wipe the last of your tears, and he lingers there, hovering right next to you. “Make a deal with me.”

The words strike you with conflicting fear and excitement, your eyes wide as you stare at him. Radiating heat from his skin kisses your face, feeding the blush on your cheeks. “But you just said—”

“It’s my deal,” He interrupts. “My terms with you.”

You don’t know whether to be scared or interested, but you have few options in the way of reactions. “What are the terms?”

“Summon me again.” He says simply. “Whenever you want to. Regularly. And I’ll protect you.”

You’re gaping directly into his face now, utterly baffled and not at all afraid. “Protect me from what?”

Jisung shrugs and lowers himself back into a seated position, this time so close that his knees are touching yours. “Anything, really. But there is the reality that once you’ve reached through the veil, there are traces of you on my side of it as well. Your presence is known now, you might be vulnerable to things from the other side.”

“Things?” You repeat. “What kinds of things?”

He frowns, like he doesn’t want to tell you. “Demons, spirits, the fallen. But I’ll protect you from all of them. They might not find you, they might not care—but if they do, I’ll be there.”

This is so much worse than a stupid prank demon summoning. “Why? Why would you make this deal?”

He smiles at you then, and it’s the most vulnerable he’s looked so far. “There’s not much in the way of goodness where I’m from. I miss it.”

“Goodness?” You repeat, frowning.

“You.” He says, reaching out and flicking your knee lightly. “Friendship. Smiles. Warm touch. Laughter. Shit—” He breaks off and turns his head away and you think you see him wiping wetness away from his own eyes. When he looks at you again, you almost think you had imagined it. “Give up your stupid ass friends and take me instead.”

You’re stunned; floored; flabbergasted. One of those weird hawk feathers on the bookshelves could knock you right over. “Jisung?” What do you even say to that?

He heaves a massive sigh and both of his hands curl over your knees. You don’t mind. You honestly don’t mind. Even if you know better than to trust him all at once, you don’t mind the way he’s touching you—the way he’s looking at you.

If he’s trying to trick you into some kind of possession, grooming you to be some kind of slave, you don’t know. You’re terrified that you’re being taken in by the most beautiful sad eyes you’ve ever seen, but right now you’re stuck.

He’s still watching you, eyes hooded and hoping, and you give a nod. “Okay. Deal.”

His fingers tighten around your knees and you would be terrified at the feeling of being caught in his grasp if it weren’t for the gaping grin that spreads across his face like you’ve just told a child he can go to Disney World.

“Is there some kind of blood pact we have to do to settle the deal? A contract?” You ask nervously, hoping you know which of the dozens of the books on the floor holds the invocation. “What if I summon the wrong demon on accident?”

“Just add my name to the invocation, I’ll come.” He says, and the smile on his face is addictive.

“You’ll come just because I call?”

Jisung squeezes your knees. “If you call me, I’ll come. And promise me you’ll ditch those assholes that locked you down here.” He pulls you closer to him, eyebrows lowering in earnest. “If any demon other than myself had answered, you could have come out of this experience very differently. I don’t want you around any more of their idiotic ideas.”

You laugh then, finally, and he stares at you in awe. “I promise.”

The demon straightens, satisfied, and then he’s extending one hand to you, which you willingly take this time. “The deal seals with a kiss. There’s no fine print, not for you. You have my word—regardless of what you think a demon’s word is worth.”

He has a point, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You let him pull you to your feet, you help him find the spell book and tear the page out, slipping it into your pocket like you’ve just gotten his phone number.

When he circles back to you, he doesn’t look so dangerous anymore. “Are you ready?”

You’re nervous, still doubting what may come of your future, but you’re not scared right now. Instead, you nod, and let his warm hands tilt your chin up. You see the black flames ignite in his eyes once again, just before Jisung presses a searing kiss to your lips and fire shoots down your body.

It’s a simple kiss, as simple as pushing a stamp into a wax seal, but when he leans back to observe the heat blooming across your cheeks, your mind is gone. You feel his forehead touch yours, the whisper of his breath on your skin, the burning impact of his next words, but you’re only barely keeping up.

Because you definitely no longer regret coming to this party, or losing that stupid drinking game.

“You’re mine now, baby,” Jisung whispers against your cheek, and flashes you a wink. “Just call me and I’m yours.”

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella @babyphotos0325 @softfor-svtptg @furfoxsake22 @tubelightanyaa @kayleefriedchicken @rockstarkkami @sp1derst0rrr @eastjonowhere @its-stayville-forever @allenajade-ite @naraportokala @jinniejjam @blackberryrains @feetoffthemalfoy @highandalive @scarlet789 @ramadiiiisme @thecutiepieme @lemonn015 @p0is0ned-peach

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[darlingdaisyfarm]

I remember on ao3 you mentioned you wanted to post Stan and Ford reacting to readers death, I wanted to ask if you could share it please?<3

grief wears your name | Stan and Ford react to reader's death

Grief hits everyone differently and the Pines family is no exception. Old men arent supposed to outlive you

a/n: certainly! thank u for reminding me, tw: death

Stanley

you'd think that a man who’s been through as much as Stan Pines would’ve learned how to process grief by now. but the thing about Stan is, he doesn’t process it, not really. he pushes it down so deep that even he forgets it’s there, until it sneaks up and slams him flat on his ass.

fuck that, fuck everything, fuck this world

hell, he wasn’t supposed to outlive you. not you. not with all the shit he’d done to his body over the years, the cigarettes, the cheap booze, the sleepless nights every time he looked in the mirror. it was supposed to be him first. the old man with bad habits and a lifetime of regrets weighing him down. that was the deal, wasn’t it? you're too young, bright, stubborn, alive, you were supposed to outlast him. supposed to be there when his time came, rolling your eyes at his dramatics and holding his hand as he went. that’s how it was supposed to go, fucking fuck

he got the call from someone he didn’t recognize. a voice muttered words he couldn’t make sense of. your name. your fucking name. his ears rang, his head spun and his fingers gripped the receiver tightly

“what the fuck do you mean, gone?” the person on the other end tried to explain, but Stanley slammed the phone back onto the hook before they could finish. no. no.

you couldn’t be gone.

he saw you last week. he watched you smile at him across the counter, teasing him about his fez like you always did. he swore you winked at him before you left.

and now you were just. . . what? erased from existence?

grief had a way of making him ugly, uglier than he already saw himself. his hands shook as if he’d been drinking all night, but the bottle on the table was full and untouched. even the burn of whiskey couldn’t numb this, so what was the point?

Stanley thought about the kitten he’d brought home when he was ten. it was starving, ribs like piano keys beneath its dirty fur, the meows little animal let out were so pitiful. he'd sworn he’d take care of it, even made a little bed out of an old shoebox and named it tiger. he fed it milk behind his dad's back. tiger died three days later.

Stan felt useless, he couldn’t save anyone.

Stan hasn’t touched the fez since you died. it’s sitting there on the bedside table, gathering dust. you used to steal it all the time, yanking it off his head with a grin. “this thing’s ridiculous, Stan,” you’d tease, shoving it onto your head crookedly. “i’m the boss of scam now. bow to me.” and he always played along, rolling his eyes, calling you a pain in the ass, but you only laughed at that. that laughter was gone.

when Mabel asked him about you last night, he had to get up and leave the room because he wasn't ready for that. she was just a kid, trying to understand why the world was so unfair and he couldn’t give her an answer because he didn’t have one.

“grunkle Stan? do you think. . . do you think they’re still watching over us?” how could he tell her he didn’t believe in anything like that anymore? that you were just gone, snuffed out, like you’d never been here at all?

Mabel’s curled in his lap like she’s five again, clutching her sweater-covered arms around her knees, her face a swollen mess of tears and hiccupping sobs. her little voice is hoarse from crying and she tries to explain, through broken words, about the stupid sweater she’d been knitting for you. she just finished it. it was supposed to be a surprise. she was going to give it to you tomorrow.

Stan wraps his arms around her, calls her “pumpkin” in the softest voice he can manage, but it trembles. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard it makes his head hurt, he hopes if he can just keep them closed tight enough, none of this will be real. but it is. it fucking is. and he doesn’t know how to tell a twelve-year-old that the world is this fucking cruel. he doesn’t know how to admit he feels like that little boy again, the one with a kitten dying in his hands and nothing he could do to stop it.

he buries his face in Mabel’s brown hair and mutters some useless lie about how “it’s gonna be okay”

Mabel's face against his chest as she sobbed. Stan held her tighter.

“i made them a sweater, grunkle Stan. i-it’s pink with little stars and they- they said they'd wear it when it got cold,” her sobs swallowed the rest.

what could he say to that? what the hell could anyone say? “they loved your sweaters, kiddo. you know they did.” he wanted to picture you in that dumb pink sweater, smiling like you always did when you wanted to make Mabel feel special. but all he could see was you gone. gone. and nothing he could do would change it

Stanford

when he got the news about you, his meticulously constructed walls crumbled in an instant.

he sat at his desk, the journal open in front of him, its pages blurred by the tears he didn’t realize were falling. his hands shook as he gripped the pen, but the words just wouldn’t come.

he’d been taught from an early age that emotions were illogical. when he was younger, his father had told him to “quit being such a baby” after Ford cried over a broken model ship. that lesson had stuck

he locked himself in his study, the same place he’d last seen you. everything was still exactly where it had been. the chair you’d sat in. the pen you’d picked up and fiddled with while listening to him ramble. he’d always been embarrassed by how much he talked around you, because words came so easily when you were there.

the guilt was eating him from inside

was it his fault?

had he been too focused on his work, too distracted to notice that something was wrong? had he missed a chance to save you?

he needed answers. needed to know. what had happened? why had it happened?

he buried himself in research, poring over every detail of the accident or the incident, as he came to call it. his obsession grew, consuming him. he didn’t sleep. didn’t eat.

Stan found him one night, hunched over the desk, muttering to himself about alternate dimensions and cosmic energy. “Ford, this isn’t gonna bring them back.”

Ford didn’t respond because Stan was wrong.

Ford wasn’t trying to bring you back. he was trying to rewrite the universe so you’d never been gone in the first place

Dipper tries to talk to him one day, pulling at the hem of his vest clumsily. “grunkle Ford, is it okay to miss someone this much? like. . .this much that it hurts? my chest hurts.”

Stanford doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t know how to explain the way grief wraps itself around your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe. “it is, Mason, it means they mattered.”

Dipper doesn’t see how Ford presses his hands to his temples when he leaves.

Ford’s always been good at pretending he’s fine.

Ford’s grief was quieter, but no less consuming. the guilt, the helplessness, the horrible emptiness that stretched wider every time he thought about how he’d failed to protect you.

he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times you’d parodied him, mimicking the way he pushed his glasses up his nose or how he’d say “actually” before correcting someone. “actually, Stanford Pines, you’re so predictable,” you’d giggle, tapping the bridge of your nose in a mocking gesture

you used to drive him insane with it, in good way. his face would flush, his words would stumble, and he’d act all huffy while secretly loving every second. he never told you how much he adored the way you made fun of him

he found one of your notebooks the other day. it was tucked under a pile of his old research papers, pages scrawled with your handwriting. you’d doodled little caricatures of him in the margins, stick-figure versions of Ford with six fingers and exaggerated glasses, accompanied by sarcastic captions like, “the nerdiest but prettiest man i ever knew”

he stared at those drawings until his vision blurred from tears. then he shoved the notebook in a drawer and locked it.

...

Ford disappears the next morning.

he knows it’s selfish, leaving Stan and the kids to deal with all of this without him, a part of family, but he can’t be in that house another second. the walls are suffocating. so he grabbed his coat, your coat, the one you used to borrow when you’d say his was warmer and walked, his feet already knew where they’re going.

the woods. the same path you always loved, where the sunlight filtered through the trees beautifully, where you used to point out birds or mushrooms or anything that caught your curious eye. you’d tug on his sleeve to make him stop and look. and god, you were so beautiful when you smiled at him like that. Ford adored you.

Ford doesn’t remember sitting down in the clearing where you used to spend time together, his knees in the dirt, fists clenched in the grass. he hadn’t cried when he found out, hadn’t even let himself feel it because there were too many faces looking at him like he was supposed to have answers. now there’s nothing but the woods, only memory of you and the sound of his own ragged breathing breaking into loud sobs

Ford cries like a child. raw, aching grief pouring out of him in waves, making his glasses fog up, slipping down his nose and he doesn’t bother fixing them. his body doesn’t know how to process this kind of pain. his hands too busy clawing at the ground, hoping he could dig deep enough to find you again.

Ford Pines, the man who always thought he could think his way out of anything, is completely unmade.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, crumpled against the base of a tree. his hands tremble as he takes the notebook out of his coat pocket, the one he used to write down little things you’d say or do that he didn’t want to forget. he flips through it now, pages ruined with his tears and it hurts worse than anything else. your handwriting’s there, little notes you’d leave for him.

“don’t forget your glasses!”

“your hair looks cute today <3”

“i love you, Ford.”

he shuts the notebook and presses it to his chest, it's the only part of you he has left.

the stars above didn’t care. the trees didn’t care. the world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that you’d been torn from it.

and Ford was left there in the cold void, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life.

[estellardreams]

Hehe writing idea go brrrr

Red didn't mean to get sent here. The universe just did it because... Something. He had no clue.

Regardless, it had to have been bad enough for him to show up here.

But... The world seemed peaceful.

No king's fortress.

No destruction.

Nothing signaling anyone's death.

Red wandered around the streets, his footing a bit unsteady.

What happened here...? Nothing seems to be wrong, so what's he supposed to fix to return home?

He spotted Pigsy's Noodles up ahead, slipping inside quietly. The shop seemed... Closed. Like no one was there yet.

Wait, how did he even get in? Usually the door was always locked before the shop opened.

Red quickly shook his head, trying not to focus on that. He headed up the stairs to MK's room, not sure if he'd be up there.

He placed his hand on the door, cracking it open.

"Xiaotian...?" he asked softly.

"Go away, Red..." MK softly pleaded, buried under the blankets.

"What? Why?" he pushed the door open, approaching MK on the bed.

Mk turned his head to look at Red, a gleaming ruby fillet over his forehead.

"Oh no! Who put this on you?!" Red exclaimed, immediately trying to find some way to take it off.

Mk quietly sat up, holding still.

Red paused, concerned. "Are you... Okay?"

"I'm... Fine. Just get this off of me, okay?"

"No! It's to keep him safe!" a voice snapped.

Mk froze, backing up a little. Red moved to protect him, only to stop himself once he came face to face with...

Himself.

Red's eyes widened in shock and horror, gripping the blankets tightly.

What...?

But... He did everything right!

He avoided becoming like the king!

He cut his hair, exposed his weaknesses, tore apart his clothes, changed his glasses, indulged in sweets and cutesy things... HOW did this happen?!

"Please... Step away from Xiaotian." the other Red spoke.

"Are you... What year is it here?" Red asked.

"207X. Why?"

Red paused. It had only been two years...

"I'm... Two years from the past." he spoke up.

"Oh, that explains it." Other Red pulled him away from MK.

"Hey! What are you doing to him?!"

"First of all, sit down. Second of all, I'm trying to keep him safe." other Red said.

"By holding him captive?!" Red snapped.

"I'm not holding him captive! I'm trying to protect him!"

"From what? People like you?"

"From him trying to kill himself!"

Red froze, his anger instantly dissipating into horror.

Other Red's eyes began to well up with tears. "I... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I can't... I don't..."

He quickly turned away and scooped up MK into his arms.

"Hey! Where are you going?!" Red yelped.

"Somewhere safer and not here." other Red said, bringing them both to the window.

"Bye, past me. Good luck dealing with King Red."

"No, WAIT-"

His future self leapt out of the window with MK, setting him down on the ground before leading him away somewhere.

Red bolted down the stairs, trying to follow after them.

"STOP! LET XIAOTIAN GO!"

"It's for his safety! Do you want him to hurt himself all over again cause I'm not here to keep him safe?!" Future Red exclaimed.

"What the hell happened to you?! To me...? To us? What happened to us? What made you like this?" Red pleaded.

Future Red paused, his gaze shifting downwards as he held MK's hand.

"... The pillar of heaven. He... I... I didn't wanna lose him... He did it anyway... And I failed..." he mumbled.

"But... But I won't fail again. Not anymore. I'm gonna keep Xiaotian safe from hurting himself and everyone else, no matter what it takes!"

Red gulped as his future self made off with MK once more.

He was never free to begin with, was he?

He... He's always gonna become the king. No matter what he does.

No matter what he tries to change.

No matter how much introspection, self sabotage, everything...

No matter what he tries, or does... It'll never work.

He'll fall back into his old self.

And this future... This self... Is proof of that.

Red sank to the ground on the barren streets, tears blurring his vision.

Did the universe just hate him?

He could never kill King Red.

He could never protect MK without hurting him.

He never deserved MK's love.

He could never escape being King Red in the future.

No matter what.

And...

That hurt.

The reality of his life hurt.

But... He couldn't just kill himself!

He knew what would've happened if he did, especially in that one timeline. He swore he'd always return to MK in the past ever since that timeline.

But now? He wasn't so sure...

Was it better to spare everyone the horror of any of these futures by getting rid of himself? Or let him stay and potentially ruin everything all over again no matter what he does?

... He needed to talk to his therapist about this.

But for now... He needed to talk some sense into his future self and rescue MK from his fate.

Red pushed back his tears, trying to clear his head. He breathed, standing back up on his feet.

Two bright lights came up and it was instantly darkness.

Red stirred awake, feeling the gentle rocking of the bed. He sat up, groaning a little.

"Oh, welcome back Red!" Sandy greeted.

"Oh, um... Hi, Sandy. What year is it?" Red asked.

"207X."

"... And I'm back in present day, okay." Red got up from the couch, only to immediately grip his chest in agony.

Great sage, why did that hurt?

"Red, go back to the couch. You're hurt."

"I... I see that now. Sorry."

"How did you even get hurt like this, anyway? You suddenly returned but as a crumpled heap in the noodle shop."

"Uh..." Red bit his lip, glancing at his phone.

He quickly opened it up and texted his therapist for a new session.

"I... I can't say, I'm sorry. I just... I need a moment to process all of this before I can tell you." he apologized, putting his phone back down.

"That's alright! As long as you're okay, it's fine by me! Would you like some tea?"

".. Yes, please."

Hello, I'm glad you opened the request box. I'm so interested in the Time Travel au that I thought if Time Travel Red Son was a yandere and wanted to protect MK alone, I'd love to see that drawing.

This is a unique sort of challenge, since Time Travel Red Son is so explicitly afraid of becoming like Demon King Red, who is a super duper Yandere, that it can only mean something has gone terribly wrong in this timeline and TT Red has all but snapped and become just like the king! And so, I figured he’d start where the king himself did in his downward spiral to madness: with the tightening fillet.

[nomie-11]

Chase After You - Part 2

masterlist! | part 1 | part 3

synopsis: vi is committed to making you believe in her as a soulmate, but you are having troubling believing in your own limits as her soulmate

pairings: vi x reader, lowkey ellie x dina

After your unexpected (and mortifying) first meeting, you texted Vi just so she could have your number—not because you secretly wanted to hear from her—but just in case. You didn’t expect Vi to follow through on her declaration to get to know you. You thought she’d chalk you up as a lost cause after you bolted like a spooked animal. But instead, she texted you. 

Every day. 

Relentlessly. 

And then she started texting you about meeting up, going out for dinner, hitting the gym together, all of these things that you weren’t sure you really wanted to do with her. And then she offered coffee after rotations, fitting herself perfectly into your existing rotation. 

You weren’t sure why you agreed. Maybe it was the way Vi’s eyes lit up when you said “fine,” or the near instant relief you felt when your headaches faded around her. Either way, you regretted it almost instantly. 

By the time the next Tuesday rolled around, you were second guessing everything. Caitlyn, however, wasn’t letting you back out. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so nervous,” she said, leaning on the doorway as you grabbed your work bag. “It’s just coffee. You’ve already met her. Plus, she’s been texting you all week like you’re her new best friend.” 

“She’s not my best friend,” you muttered, zipping up your bag with more force than necessary. “And I’m not nervous.” 

Caitlyn gave you a pointed look. “You’ve changed your shirt three times.” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just coffee, right? Not a date.” 

“Exactly,” Caitlyn agreed, though her smirk said otherwise. “But if it were a date, you’d totally nail it.”

You groaned, grabbing your jacket. “Goodbye, Caitlyn.” 

She waved you off. “Have fun with your soulmate!”

You ignored her as you left, though her words played on a loop in your mind all the way to the coffee shop. 

Vi was already waiting when you arrived, sitting at a corner table with two mugs in front of her. She looked up the moment the door chimed, grinning as if she’d been waiting for this all day. 

“Hey!” she called, waving you over. “Thought I’d grab you something—hope you like caramel macchiatos?” 

You hesitated, standing awkwardly by the table. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?” 

She nudged the chair across from herewith her foot, her grin widening. “Good guess, huh. Sit, relax. You look like you just ran a marathon.”

You muttered something under your breath but sat down anyway, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. Vi’s presence was… unnervingly comfortable, like you’d known her longer than a week. 

“So,” she said, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand, “how was your rotation?” 

“It was fine,” you replied, trying to sound neutral. “Busy.” 

Vi nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Must be intense, though. I mean, clinicals and lectures? How do you even have time for… you know, a life?”

You shrugged, not sure how to answer. “I have three friends, so not much of a life.” 

Her smile softened, and for a moment, she just looked at you, like she was piecing something together. Then she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, the muscles in her shoulder pulling tight. “Okay, so here’s the deal: coffee, twice a week. My treat. We’ll call it stress relief.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“After your rotations,” she clarified. “We meet here, twice a week. No pressure, no soulmate talk, just… getting to know each other.” 

You stared at her, unsure if you wanted to laugh or roll your eyes. “Why are you so insistent on this?” 

Vi shrugged, her grin returning. “Because you’re worth the effort. And I think you’ll figure that out eventually.” 

————————————

The first time Vi suggested ice skating, you thought she was joking. When she dragged you to the rink on your next ‘coffee date,’ you were certain it was a terrible idea. 

“I don’t know how to skate,” you protested as she handed you a pair of rentals. 

“That’s the fun part,” Vi said, already lacing hers up. “I’ll teach you.”

The first ten minutes were a disaster. You clung to the wall like your life depended on it, glaring at Vi every time she tried to coax you toward the center of the rink. 

“You’re doing great!” She called, skating backward in front of you with infuriating ease. 

“I hate this,” you muttered, taking a shaky step.

“You don’t hate it,” she said with a laugh. “You’re just mad you’re not good at it yet.” 

You glared at her, but her teasing grin was impossible to stay mad at. Slowly, she coaxed you away from the wall, her hands steadying yours as she guided you across the ice. 

You cling to Vi like she was a lifeline, your legs wobbling uncontrollably beneath you. Every time you felt even a hint of balance the ice seemed to betray you, and you found yourself clutching her arms tighter. 

“Okay, okay,” you hissed, squeezed your eyes shut as your skates slipped again. “I’m going to die, and it’s going to be your fault.” 

Vi laughed, the sound warm and genuine, echoing in the cold air. “You’re not going to die, Y/n. I’ve got you. Just trust me.” 

That was the problem. You did trust her—too much, maybe. Every time her hands steadied you, everytime she smiled and said, “You’re doing great,” you felt the knot in your chest loosen just a little. And that was terrifying. 

You stumbled again, and Vi caught you easily, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. “See?” She said, her voice soft. “Not so bad when you’ve got someone to hold on to.” 

You stared at her, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with skating. the pink of her hair stood out against the pale blue lights of the link, and her eyes were so full of warmth and patience that it made your stomach twist. She looked at you like you were someone worth catching. 

And that started you more than anything. 

“Are you okay?” Vi asked, tilting her head as she noticed your silence. 

You forced a laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… trying not to snap my ankle.” 

Vi smirked, her hands still warm on your waist. “Don’t worry. If you fall, I’ll catch you.” 

You wanted to tell her that the falling wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the way she made you feel safe, the way she looked at you like you mattered. It was the way your soulmate bond tugged at your heart every time she smiled, like it was pulling toward something you weren’t sure you were ready for. 

But instead, you tightened your grip on her hands and said, “Okay, but if I fall, we’re both going down.” 

Vi grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Deal. But only if you promise to let go of me and try on your own for a little longer.” 

You groaned but nodded, letting her guide you across the ice again. This time, you didn’t fight the way your body leaned into hers, and for a few minutes, you almost forgot why this was supposed to scare you.

Almost. 

——————————————

The rink was cold, loud, and way too busy for your liking when you walked through the doors for the second time. Vi had texted you the night before, practically begging you to come to her game, and just imagining her face when you showed up was enough to get you to come. 

Vi had said for you to come early so she could meet you by the rink before she had to stretch and warm up so she could introduce you to some people. 

Going to the game—not so scary. Meeting Vi’s friends? Terrifying. 

By the time you arrived, your nerves were frayed. The rink was packed with players warming up, families gathering in the stands, and the faint smell of popcorn wafting through the air. You scanned the crowd, trying to spot Vi, your anxiety building with every second. 

Then, you heard her. 

“Y/n!”

Vi’s voice cut through the noise like a beacon, and you turned to see her weaving through the crowd, half-dressed in her hockey gear. Her helmet dangled from her hand, her skate guards clinking as she walked toward you. She had that same easy grin that she normally does, the one that somehow made you feel both at ease and completely overwhelmed. 

“You made it!” she said, her voice warm with excitement. Before you could respond, she gently grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward a group near the benches. “Come on, there’s people I want you to meet.” 

You barely had time to protest before you were standing in front of two women and a baby. One of them, a tall brunette with a mischievous glint in her eye, was also half-dressed in hockey gear and holding a squirming baby on her hip. The other, a slightly shorter woman with strong facial features and kind eyes, offered you a small, polite smile. 

“This is Ellie,” Vi said, gesturing toward the taller woman. “She’s one of my best friends, and a total menace on the ice.” 

Ellie snorted, shifting the baby to her other hip. “Nice to meet you, Y/n. Don’t listen to her—she’d just mad I’m better at slap shots.” 

Vi rolled her eyes. “Anyway, this is Dina—Ellie’s soulmate.” 

Dina laughed softly, reaching out to shake your hand. “Nice to finally put a face to the name. Vi’s been talking about you nonstop.” 

Your face heated instantly. “Oh, um… nice to meet you, too.” 

“And this,” Vi added, pointing to the baby, “is J.J. He’s kind of the star of the show.” 

J.J. babbled happily, reaching for your necklace. You couldn’t help but smile as his tiny fingers grabbed onto it, tugging gently. 

Oh my god, that is the cutest damn baby I’ve ever seen. 

“You want to hold him?” Dina asked, tilting her head. 

You hesitated, but Vi nudged your arm gently, catching the way your eyes lit up when J.J. aimlessly waved his hands in your face. “He won’t bite, I promise.” 

With a nervous nod, you carefully took J.J. from Ellie, his weight settling gently onto your arms and chest. He looked up at you with wide, curious eyes, and despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. 

“There you go,” Dina said, her tone encouraging. “You’ve got the magic touch. He loves you.” 

Vi watched you with a softness you weren’t used to, her gaze lingering as you shifted J.J. to your hip to make him more comfortable. 

“You’re a total natural,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the loud whistle of the referee cut through the air, signaling the last warning before it was match time. 

“That’s our cue,” Vi said, stepping closer to you. “Dina and J.J.’ll keep you company during the game. You’ll be fine.” 

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. Vi’s hand brushed yours briefly before she grabbed her helmet and jogged off toward the ice, her pink hair bright against the deep blue and gold of her jersey. 

Dina must have noticed your nerves, because she gave you a reassuring smile. “Come on, let’s grab a spot. J.J. and I are pros at cheering for these two.” 

Ellie laughed, pressing a kiss to Dina’s jaw before follow off after Vi, leaving you and Dina to make your way to the stands. 

You settled into a seat with Dina and J.J. at your side, the baby happily gnawing on a teething ring while Dina explained the basics of the ame. You nodded along, half-listening, but your attention was on Vi. She was easy to spot—her pink hair stood out even with her helmet on, and her confident stride on the ice was impossible to miss. 

When the game started, you quickly realized why Vi had been so insistent on inviting you. She was good. She was incredible. She was hot. Watching her skate was like watching someone entirely in their own element. She moved with a precision and intensity that was mesmerizing, weaving through players like they weren’t even there, her stick handling the puck with ease. 

“Wow,” you murmured, leaning forward as she darted past three defenders and fired a shot straight into the net. The crowd erupted, and Dina gently covered J.J.’s ears to give a loud cheer. 

“She’s pretty amazing, huh?” Dina said, her tone knowing.

You nodded, not even bothering to deny it. “Yeah. She it.” 

For a moment, you forgot about the crowd, the noise, and the tug of your soulmate bond that always lingered when Vi was near. You just watched her, completely in awe of how effortless she made it look.

Then it happened—as she angled for the puck near the center of the rink, a player from the opposing team with a solid twenty pounds on Vi barreled into her at full speed, shoulder-checking her with enough force to send her sprawling to the ice. 

The moment she hit the ground, pain exploded across your shoulder, sharp and searing. You gasped, clutching at your arm instinctively, the sensation so vivid it made your vision blur. 

Dina turned to you, her expression concerned. “Y/n? Are you okay?” 

You couldn’t answer. The pain was too much, and it was everywhere—radiating from your shoulder to your chest and back. Panic clawed at your throat as you struggled to breathe, your mind spinning with her pain. 

“Y/n?” Dina’s voice was louder now, edged with worry. 

“I—I have to go,” you stammered, standing abruptly. The movement sent another jolt of pain through your shoulder, but you ignored it, clutching the armrest for balance. “I’m sorry—I can’t—”

Before Dina could respond, you bolted, the sound of the crowd fading behind you as you rushed toward the exit. Your vision blurred with tears, your chest tight as you pushed through the doors and into the cold night air. 

You had to get away. 

—-------------------------------

The cafe smelled like freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon as you sank into your usual seat across from Vi. You were both quiet today—a rare occurrence. Your post-rotation coffee ritual had grown into something steady and comforting over the past few weeks. Twice a week, like clockwork, Vi would be waiting for you. 

But today, there was a tension that clung to the air like static electricity. 

“So,” Vi finally broke the silence, fiddling with the paper sleeve on her cup. “Another big game next weekend.”

You nodded absently, staring down at your drink. “Against Noxus Central University, right? I heard they’re brutal.” 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice carrying a faint edge. “Real bruises. Should be fun, though.” 

Your stomach twisted, but you forced a neutral tone. “Fun, huh?” 

Vi raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a sip of your coffee. 

She didn’t buy it. “Come on, Y/n. Spill.” 

You hesitated, the words clawing at the back of your throat. “It’s just… you always come out of those games looking like you’ve been through a war zone. I mean—last weekend was brutal. I thought you broke your shoulder, and I’m the one who has to feel it.” 

Her eyes widened, and her hand froze mid-fidget, “Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” You set down the cup harder than you meant to. “I don’t know what crazy pain tolerance you have, but it felt like I was hit by a freight train. It’s a lot, Vi.” 

Her jaw tightened. “You think I don’t feel bad about that? I don’t want you to hurt because of me.” 

“Then maybe you should stop putting yourself in situations where it happens!” The words tumbled out louder than you intended, and you winced at your own tone. 

Vi’s expression darkened, her easy going demeanor vanishing. “Are you seriously asking me to stop playing hockey?” 

“I’m asking you to think about what it’s doing to me!”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping into something sharper. “And what about me, huh? Hockey’s my life, Y/n. It’s not just a game; it's who I am.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” You snapped, the words cutting like a knife even as you said them. 

Vi recoiled, her blue eyes narrowing. “Wow. So that’s what you think of me?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but a familiar voice cut in. “Alright, what’s going on here?” 

You looked up to see Ellie approaching, her gaze bouncing between you and Vi. SHe stopped next to Vi’s chair, crossing her arms. “You guys never argue like this.”

“I’m not the one making unreasonable demands,” Vi muttered glaring at her coffee.

“Unreasonable?” you shot back, your voice rising. “I’m not asking for much, Vi. Just for you to stop throwing yourself in the path of a warm machine. Do you know what it's like to feel like your body isn’t your own because your soulmate tosses herself around recklessly.” 

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t intervene. Not yet. 

Vi’s face twisted with frustration. “And do you know what it’s like to feel like you’re constantly apologizing for just existing? For doing what I love? I can’t just stop being me, Y/n. Hockey’s my first love.”

“Maybe I don’t want a soulmate then!” The words erupted before you could stop them, and the moment they left your mouth, the room seemed to freeze. 

Vi’s expression crumbled, and Ellie’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the suffocating silence that followed. 

“Y/n,” Vi said softly, her voice cracking just enough for you to hear. “You don’t mean that. I thought we were past that.” 

You wanted to take it back, you wanted to take it back so badly, but the floodgates had opened. “I don’t believe in soulmates, Vi. I don’t and I never have. And Honestly? This—us—it’s just proving why I was right. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.” 

Ellie stepped closer, her voice low but firm. “Y/n, you’re upset. Maybe take a second before you say something you can’t take back.” 

“I already said it,” you whispered, your chest tight. “And it’s true.” 

Vi stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “You don’t believe in soulmates? After all I’ve done to try to prove to you that this could work?” 

You stood too, unable to stay still under the weight of her gaze. “You think this is easy for me? It’s not! I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m enough, and now I’m supposed to be enough for you? Someone who’s fearless and— and perfect, and doesn’t need me slowing her down?” 

“Slowing me down!?” Vi’s voice rose, incredulous. “You think that’s how I see you? God, Y/n, you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m more than just… what I do.” 

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one compromising?” Your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded. 

“I’m not asking you to change who you are,” she said, her tone softer but no less urgent. “I’m just asking you to please, give this a chance. Stop being so defensive.” 

“And I’m asking you to understand that I can’t keep waking up in pain every time you decide to throw yourself into a fight on the ice!”

Ellie stepped between you, her hands up. “Okay, let’s all take a breath here—”

“No,” Vi said, her voice breaking. “If she doesn’t want this, then fine.” 

“Vi—” Ellie tried, but Vi was already grabbing her jacket. 

“Stop, Ellie,” Vi said, shaking her head as she turned to leave. “Come on.” 

You stood frozen, tears stinging your eyes as she walked out the door, Ellie close on her heels. 

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Caitlyn appeared moments later, a confused expression on her face. “Where did everyone go?”

You just shook your head, unable to speak through the lump in your throat. 

Fuck. 

this is the second part in a three part series! read part 1 here! reader part 3 here!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[gothamite-rambler]

If the batfamily had to deal with knock off merch

Nightwing: Hey, I found a box of plushies that look like you and Robin. Seems to be what they were selling them. I hate to admit it, but they're kind of cute.

Nightwing sauntered over with the box and pulled out a plushie that only had a cowl resembling Batman's.

Batman (glaring at the insulting plush) "Styled" is being generous. The colors are completely off.

Nightwing: I swear you had a pink and blue—

Batman (snatching the plushie, raising his voice angry): The colors are off!

Nightwing: You're right, maybe if it were rainbow-colored, it would look like— Can’t hit me or it’d be considered child abuse!

Batman groaned and flicked Nightwing on the top of his head instead. Nightwing winced rolling his eyes, but as he looked at the cheap knock off plushie he smiled at how adorable it did look.

Batman (clearly offended): I could sue for this.

Nightwing (in a judgmental tone): Sue for bad knockoffs? Ever heard of AliExpress?

Batman (tossing the toy onto the floor): No, because I don’t shop on sites like that.

Nightwing (smugly): Oh, right, my bad. You’re the one percent that can afford those overpriced pieces of garbage?

Batman: Yes, damn it! I also don’t like my image being exploited.

Just then, Melinda, a crook handcuffed and sitting on the floor while waiting for the police, lifted her head, offended.

Melinda: Hey! I'll have you know all my ManBat merchandise is perfectly legal. There are just slight differences that make it fine. You’re here to arrest me for drugs, not for this!

Batman and Nightwing: ManBat?

Nightwing burst into laughter and walked away before Batman could react. Batman rolled his eyes.

Melinda: Seriously, if you want, you can take a couple for free. I actually really like you guys. Just, you know, I have a massive drug problem. Such is life, am I right?

Batman (exasperated): No.

Nightwing: I have a friend who can relate. Can I have the purple ManBat toy for... a friend?

Melinda nodded, revealing a missing front tooth as she smiled. Nightwing quickly grabbed the purple plushie and hugged it tightly like it was the softest item in the world.

Nightwing: It’s soft too!

Batman (tapping his cowl, sighing): Aggravation, frustration—give me that plush!

Nightwing (chuckling): Nope! Mine now.

Batman glared at Nightwing, who still held onto the plushie. He lunged to grab it, but Nightwing sprinted away, Batman in hot pursuit.

Batman: You're a grown man, and it doesn’t even look good!

Nightwing: Don’t care, it’s mine! You never let me buy any toys that have your face on them!

Batman: I refuse to buy products that resemble my own image!

[love-byers]

"Not Kids Anymore" connection

who ordered more byler music coding??

alright, so the OST song that plays during the byler rain fight is titled "Not Kids Anymore", obviously quoting mike's line "But we're not kids anymore." the line that triggers the song, so the line that changes/emphasizes the tone, is "It's not my fault you don't like girls!". it cuts to will's reaction and the music begins. i know we all know the rain fight by heart, but i'm gonna add the dialogue anyway

Mike: Will, come on. You can't leave, it's raining. Hey, I said I was sorry, alright? It's a cool campaign it's really cool! We're just not in the mood right now.

Will: Yeah, Mike, that's the problem, you guys are never in the mood anymore! You're ruining our party!

Mike: That's not true!

Will: Really? Where's Dustin right now?

Mike: ...

Will: See? You don't know, and you don't even care, and obviously he doesn't either, and I don't blame him! You're destroying everything, and for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?!

Mike: El's not stupid! It's not my fault you don't like girls!

*Not Kids Anymore begins*

Will: ...

Mike: I'm not trying to be a jerk. Okay? But we're not kids anymore. I mean what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?

Will: Yeah. I guess I did. I really did.

*Will gets on his bike and leaves*

Mike: Will. Will! Will come on!

we will come back to this in a moment

the only other time "Not Kids Anymore" has played is in s4 ep1. It plays when lucas dustin and mike are arguing over the basketball championship and hellfire. again i'm gonna show the entire convo just to have full context since it's pretty much all going to be relevant.

Lucas: I don't get the big deal. Just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire to another night.

Dustin: "Just talk to Eddie."

Mike: Why don't you just talk to your coach and get him to move the game?

Dustin: I think that's a great idea, Mike!

Mike: Thank you, Dustin!

Lucas: This is the championship game!

Dustin: This is the end of Eddie's campaign! A semester of adventuring has led to this moment, and we need you!

Mike: Yeah, and the Tigers don't. You've been on the bench all year.

Lucas: That's not the point.

Dustin: Please, arrive at the point.

Lucas: If I get in good with these guys, I'll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too.

Mike: Has it ever occurred to you that we don't want to be popular?

Lucas: So you want to be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years?

Dustin: We are nerds and freaks!

Lucas: Yeah, but maybe we don't have to be!

*Not Kids Anymore begins*

Lucas: Look, I'm tired of being bullied. I'm tired of girls laughing at us. I'm tired of feeling like a loser. We came to high school wanting things to be different, right?

*Mike and Dustin nod*

Lucas: So now we have that chance. I skip tonight and that's all out the window. So I'm asking you guys, as a friend, just talk to Eddie, get him to move Hellfire. Come to my game. Please.

you're probably starting to see where i'm going with this lol

before i go into it i want to say that it is undeniable that these scenes are connected, clearly. there are over a hundred other songs in the ST OST albums and they chose this one. there is undoubtedly connections and subtext.

so clearly lucas is saying he is aware of the fact that he is a nerd/freak, but he doesn't want to be. he wants to get in with the popular crowd. hanging out with them and being on the basketball team despite always being on the bench is something he's doing on purpose, a choice he's making, because he wants to be perceived a certain way. he wants to be perceived as cool, as normal.

lucas is skipping out on dnd because he's trying to be normal.

so what's the connection here? is it just that lucas and mike both don't want to play dnd? cause that's not really the case, at least for lucas. he wants to play dnd, he just wants them to move it to a different night so he can go to the game. it's a cool campaign, it's really cool! we're just not in the mood right now.

lets compare some other lines from these two scenes

Yeah, and the Tigers don't. You've been on the bench all year. You're destroying everything, and for what?! So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?!

mike and will are both saying the sacrifice being made is stupid because the action is empty and boring and meaningless.

this also reminds me of that ted quote "You're on the bench, son." obviously talking to/about mike.

you could also look at it as will saying (not literally saying, but a coded way) that he actually needs mike while el does not, clearly, since all they do is make out meanwhile will genuinely loves mike and wants to connect with him. will needs mike. Yeah, and the Tigers don't. You've been on the bench all year.

So you want to be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?

Yeah. I guess I did. I really did. We are nerds and freaks!

i feel like these are kind of self explanatory lol, i can't really think of anything to say about it

i guess the fact that they're both insinuating that this is what will happen to themselves if they don't act. lucas doesn't want to be stuck with the nerds and freaks, and mike doesn't want to be gay lmfao. dnd in mikes basement is canonically a metaphor for will's love for mike, so thats not delusional at all sorry

If I get in good with these guys, I'll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too. What did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends?

i've always found that mike line interesting. it's not the way someone who is in love talks about their bf/gf. mike didn't fall in love (at first sight), he got a girlfriend. he acquired a girlfriend. saying it like that kind of gives the implication that mike sees his relationship as an action that everyone must take at a certain point in their life, like it's just what you're supposed to do. that's what normal people do.

lucas knows what he is. he's a nerd, he's a freak, but wants to change. he wants to be perceived as cool and normal. and he is purposefully pulling away from his friends to spend time with other cool, normal people which will make him cool and normal too. and he wants his friends to want the same things he does.

Yeah, but maybe we don't have to be! It's not my fault you don't like girls!

these are the lines that trigger the music, so the turning point of the scene, the climax. how are they similar? well, it seems like both of them are acknowledging a choice. lucas is acknowledging the choice of getting in with the popular crowd, even if it means pretending to be someone you're not, a choice he has already made, and a choice he wants dustin and mike to make. soooo it seems like mike is acknowledging the choice of liking girls/dating girls, a choice he has already made, even if it means pretending to be someone you're not, a choice he wants will to make (or is at least acknowledging that will has not made that choice yet, and that it's not mike's fault).

they are both acknowledging the choice to conform.

"It's forced confirming. That's what killing the kids. That's the real monster."

i will also point out the differences in the cinematography of these scenes. the rain fight is an over the shoulder (we can see the back of wills head and his shoulder in the corner) and is closer up than the s4 scene. the s4 scene is warm and colorful while the rain fight is pale and desaturated. that's color grading, which is all done in post production. basically, the rain fight is way more intimate and serious because this is an argument between two people who are in love, meanwhile the s4 scene is an argument between friends.

its also generally interesting that mike is in the both of these scenes, but on opposite sides. in the rain fight he is the one conforming, and in the s4 scene is anti-conformity. so if mike doesn't want to be popular, doesn't care if he's associated with nerds and freaks, proudly deems himself a nerd and freak, what was his deal in s3? easy question, he's queer. next

this parallel, in my opinion, carries over into another scene which i talked about in this post. it all makes a lot of sense tied together!

have a great day byler nation

[enemiestolovershoe]

Warmth and Care

Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Noah takes care of reader while she‘s on her period

Words: 885

Warnings: Period and Cramps

A/N: Another version of this was requested but I felt like writing a second version just with Noah and Reader. But click here to read the other Version.

The soft glow of the morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. Normally, you loved mornings like this—warm, serene, and quiet. But today was different. You lay curled up on your side, buried beneath a pile of blankets, clutching your stomach as a familiar, dull ache radiated from your abdomen. You groaned softly, shifting to try and find a position that didn’t make you want to cry.

You heard the faint rustling of movement outside the bedroom door, followed by the quiet click of it opening. “Babe?” Noah’s voice, warm and slightly raspy from sleep, reached you. You didn’t look up, too focused on managing the pain in your belly.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, though the tremor in your voice gave you away.

Noah crossed the room quickly, his bare feet silent on the carpet. He perched on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes filled with concern as they scanned your face. “What’s going on?” he asked softly, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“Cramps,” you admitted weakly, closing your eyes. “It’s no big deal.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You look miserable,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “What can I do? Do you need medicine? A heating pad? Food?”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly at the sight of him. His hair was a mess of soft waves, his hoodie slightly rumpled, and his brow furrowed in concern. “I just need to rest,” you murmured. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to fuss over me.”

Noah didn’t move, his hand still gently stroking your hair. “Fussing is kind of my thing, you know,” he said with a small smile. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you could protest, he was up and out of the room. You heard the faint sounds of him moving around in the kitchen—cabinet doors opening and closing, the clink of mugs, the hum of the microwave. Curiosity tugged at you, but the effort to move felt like too much.

A few minutes later, Noah returned, balancing a tray in his hands. “Room service,” he announced softly, setting the tray down on the bedside table.

“What’s all this?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Tea,” he said, handing you a steaming mug of chamomile. “I added honey because I think that’s supposed to help with cramps or something. And I brought you some toast in case you’re hungry.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you said, taking a careful sip of the tea.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. “If you’re hurting, I’m not just gonna sit here and do nothing.”

As you sipped your tea, Noah held up a heating pad he’d unearthed from the bathroom. “Want me to heat this up for you?”

“Yes, please,” you said gratefully.

While he handled the heating pad, he kept glancing back at you. “Do you want to watch something? I can set up Netflix. Or we could do one of those mindless true crime shows you like.”

You chuckled, touched by his willingness to cater to your every whim. “I’m good with whatever,” you said, your voice still soft but more relaxed now.

When he returned, the heating pad was warm and ready. Noah carefully tucked it under the blanket, adjusting it until it was snug against your stomach. “Better?” he asked, sitting beside you.

“Much better,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and grabbed the remote. “Okay, rom-com or murder mystery?”

“Rom-com,” you said with a grin. “But you hate those.”

“I’ll survive,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Besides, I’m here to make you feel better, not myself.”

The next hour passed in cozy bliss. Noah sat beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders, occasionally making sarcastic comments about the movie’s cheesy plotline. You laughed weakly at his remarks, grateful for the distraction from the lingering cramps.

At some point, Noah got up and returned with more snacks and a bottle of water. He handed them to you without a word, sitting back down and pulling you close again. His hand found its way to your back, rubbing soothing circles as the movie played on.

When the credits finally rolled, you turned to him, your heart full. “Thank you,” you murmured, looking up at him.

“For what?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“For taking care of me. For making me laugh. For being the best boyfriend ever,” you said, your voice warm with sincerity.

Noah smiled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Always,” he said softly. “You’d do the same for me.”

He stretched out beside you, pulling you into his arms so you were nestled against his chest. His steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body eased the tension that had been gripping you all morning. As his fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, you felt the pain and discomfort melting away, replaced by the overwhelming comfort of being loved.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that no matter how bad the cramps got, you’d always have Noah to make it better.

Taglist: @courta13

[blushsturns]

perv!matt x innocent!reader ♡

pt.6 ❤︎ deal

w/c: 2228

❤︎ part 5 is here

❤︎ read all about our faves here

it’s been a week since you’ve gotten the sex toys at the sex shop with matt. chris and nick were teasing you and matt the whole way home and matt was completely and utterly aggravated with the both of them. it was chris’ idea to go to the sex shop and yet chris was the one being the most obnoxious about it all. they didn’t see what you two bought, but once they saw you both at the register, they started to make teasing comments like how matt finally decided to grow some balls. you could tell it was really pissing matt off and you told them both to knock it off, but they were still being obnoxious.

while in the car on the way back from the shop, he apologized to you in the backseat. all you could do was squeeze his thigh and shake your head, flashing him a small reassuring smile. “you don’t have to apologize for anything.”

since then, matt has been quiet. you haven’t heard from him. you texted nick asking if matt was okay but all nick said was that matt was grumpy and wasn’t talking to anyone. it wasn’t like matt to be completely quiet like this. you visibly seen him get frustrated when his brothers were teasing him, but you assumed that was just what siblings do to each other.

“you’re the only one who can get through to him at this point.” nick said to you on the phone while you were painting your nails. you called him when you finally had enough and wanted to know what was going on. it wasn’t like matt not to return your texts or calls.

“i tried to talk to him, he won’t answer me. you guys have really got to knock it off with the whole teasing him thing. i know you’re his brothers, but we were all in a place we never been before. even i was unsure what the hell to do or look for.”

you heard nick sigh at the other end. nick was always such a good person to talk to and always gave the best advice and had a great listening ear. he was someone you felt completely comfortable around. that was just the aura of his personality. “i can apologize to him, but we were just messing around.” he paused for a moment before speaking again. “what did you guys buy anyway? matt was as red as a fucking tomato and when we got home he ran to his room and locked the door.”

you felt your face flush when he asked you what you two bought. matt must’ve been really embarrassed given he’s never been to a place like that before. how would he even begin to explain to his own brothers that you bought his toy and he bought yours? you shook your head to try and erase the memory (for now) and decided to laugh it off. “nick, focus! that’s not important. apologize to your damn brother and get chris to as well. give the poor guy a break, okay?”

“fine, but this weekend i am picking out where we go to hang out because chris was completely out of pocket for that one.”

you let out a soft laugh at his comment before saying your goodbyes and hanging up the phone. a soft sigh emits from your lips when you finish painting your nails and then allowing them to dry. they were a pretty pale pink that matched your pajama set. you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your nighttime skincare routine before making your way back into your bedroom.

with a soft sigh emitting from your lips, you open up your curtains and your eyes widened as you see matt’s figure come into view. he was sitting on the windowsill, his fingers running throughout his tousled hair. his attention was solely focused on his phone in his hands. you pressed your hand against the windowsill, your heart feeling like its aching just from the looks of him. he looked pretty stressed. you knew matt long enough to know when he wasn’t okay and you had to admit, not talking to him for a week was starting to mess with you. you missed him, even if you didn’t want to admit that to yourself.

you wondered if he was okay. if his brothers actually apologized like you asked them to. if he’s been busy and trying to take his mind off of what happened between the two of you the last month, or if it’s all he’s been able to think about. you had to admit, it’s all you’ve been able to think about. you thought about the obsession matt had over you. was it healthy? did he love you, or was it all infatuation? did you feel the same way?

matt seemed to have consumed your brain in ways that you weren’t sure were even possible. you wondered what his lips tasted like, what his body would feel like against yours. he already has had a taste of you, would you ever want to return the favor?

all of these thoughts had your head spinning and you didn’t even realize that matt had your full attention now. he looked up at you through the window, his lips curving up into a small smile. you could visibly see him from the fluorescent light of his lamp that was sitting on his desk. he lifted his hand in his wave and you instantly lifted your hand back to wave at him, relief rushing through you. he seemed okay, but you were still puzzled as to why he’s been so silent.

you knew how embarrassed matt got easily. he instantly got so flustered all the time especially if someone else was poking fun at him for something. he knew how to stand up for himself, but sometimes he really did let it get to him. you cared for matt deeply and wanted him to be happy. you didn’t like knowing he was upset or going through anything and you wanted him to know that he could talk to you about it.

all of a sudden, matt disappeared from your sight and you felt disappointment rush through you. you weren’t sure what to make of what happened. he seemed to be in good spirits, and even waved at you, but you two still haven’t talked. you took in a deep breath, closed your curtain and walked over to your bed to get underneath your covers. you turned your lamp off on your nightstand and grabbed your phone to do your nightly doom scrolling.

you’ve checked almost every single app you had on your phone before you started to get burnt out looking at your phone. just as you were about to put it down, an incoming call from matt appeared on your screen. your eyes furrowed in confusion as to why he would be calling you this late, but you didn’t give it another thought considering you hadn’t heard from him. “hello?”

“hi.” he spoke breathlessly. you heard some rustling around on the other end before it eventually got quiet. “sorry i disappeared from the window. both of my brothers came to my room to apologize actually.”

you nodded your head as you pressed your lips together in a firm line, seemingly impressed by nick and the fact that he actually listened to you. “as they should’ve from the start. how did that go?”

“well they apologized. chris didn’t seem as apologetic, but nick did. they were curious as to what we, uh bought that day, but i wouldn’t tell them.” you didn’t have to visibly see him to know that he was blushing from the way he stammered on his words, obviously remembering that day and what they had purchased together.

a soft chuckle leaves your own lips as you rest your head comfortably against the pillow. “well good, it’s none of their business. have you been okay though? i haven’t heard from you.”

a long sigh was heard from the opposite end of the call. “yeah, i’m sorry about that. i just got so damn embarrassed. i mean chris was the one who brought up going in the first place and yet he was doing the worst of it all. i just didn’t want to make a fool out of myself and look totally inexperienced in front of you, i guess.” you could tell he was obviously still blushing, probably laying on his bed to mirror exactly what you were doing at that very moment.

“don’t worry about me. that shit doesn’t bother me. chris is an absolute idiot.” another laugh leaves your lips and you could hear his laugh on the other end too which made you feel a little better. “they just like to mess around too much, you know that. you didn’t have to ignore everyone for a week though, matt.” you spoke this with sadness filling your tone. you wondered if there was something else going on, or if he was genuinely just embarrassed with the way his brothers were behaving. it wasn’t the first time they were out of control, but maybe it was because he was completely out of his element in a sex shop that he probably never would’ve gone to on his own.

you heard him sigh once again, sadness filling his voice. “i know, i’m sorry. i just was really embarrassed and didn’t know how to recover from that. last thing i’d want is for you to think differently of me because of how, uh, inexperienced i am.”

you almost wanted to reach through the phone and hug him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. it wasn’t like you didn’t know that matt was inexperienced, it was just fairly obvious. matt has had a couple girlfriends in the past, but they were always really short lived and he never seemed serious about them. he never talked about his relationships or feelings in general around you and that was just the dynamic of your relationship with him.

you’d never judge him or think differently of him because of him not being as experienced or fully confident. you already knew he got flustered really easily, it was just part of who he was. in all honestly, you thought it was adorable and kind of attractive.

it excited you to know that he had some kind of obsession over you. it never once freaked you out. it made you intrigued because nobody else has ever been like this with you before. you were glad it was matt. someone you knew for awhile and felt completely comfortable with. you don’t know where this would lead and how you truly felt, but you didn’t want to lose him and you didn’t want matt to feel any less of a man because of how embarrassed he gets.

you realized you were quiet for a bit and didn’t mean to be, but you got lost in your thoughts. “you don’t have to apologize, matt. i mean it.” you said with complete and utter sincerity in your voice. “i don’t think differently of you at all. that doesn’t bother me at all. if anything, it honestly excites me a little.” you bit onto your bottom lip after you speak, even though you knew he obviously couldn’t see you.

“wait, really?” he said abruptly, surprise filling his tone. “it excites you that i’m uh, not experienced that much?”

a soft giggle emits from your lips at his reaction, resting your free hand on your stomach. “yeah, it does. although, you did seem to know what you were doing that one time in my kitchen.” immediately when you brought it up you felt your cheeks grow warm. thank goodness he couldn’t see you so he wouldn’t be able to see the kind of effect he had on you.

“oh yeah.” he said immediately, a laugh leaving his lips as well. “i’ve never done anything prior to that, but i’ve seen some things and i’d do it again, and again, and again. i mean that. sometimes it’s all i can think about.”

his voice seemed to get quieter and you wondered if maybe he had to be quiet in case nick and chris were around to listen. you felt your heart begin to beat rapidly in your chest at his words as you bite down a little harder onto your bottom lip. “really?” you asked him with surprise filling your tone. “me too.” now your voice was quiet, although it was just you and no one around you had to worry about that could hear you. “i really enjoyed that.”

“i had an idea.” he said immediately, a bit more confidence filling his voice.

this piqued your interest, your fingers playing with string on your shorts. “what is it?”

you could hear him take in a deep breath to gather himself. before you had any chance to think about what he possibly could say, he began to speak.

“how about i make it up to you for not talking for a week? tomorrow night, you and me. i’ll be in charge of that toy i got you. deal?”

you took in a deep breath, the adrenaline running throughout your body, your core suddenly beginning to throb with excitement.

“deal.”

taglist:

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @sturniololuv08 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @katiebug3851 @fetusjikook @poppingmypussy4chris @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @y3sterdaysproblem @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos

a/n:

thank you so much for loving this au and keeping up with it! this part was kind of like a filler, but it’s very important to the story. i have tons of ideas so bare with me. i’m excited for what’s to come next.

if you wanna be added to my taglist, click here!

also if you wanna talk to me about perv!matt x innocent!reader, send me a message or hit up my inbox! :)

i’m also taking requests too!

love you guys!

-nessa ღ

[phone4pills]

TW !!! (unfortunately no smut under the cut) but I ask you to read this if you are navigating the current situation with sturniololuv08. If you don’t want to read any more negativity, you can scroll past or uh… go on my masterlist 🤷‍♀️ just a suggestion. Nevertheless, here’s my opinion on the problem. Just know idgaf about hate in my inbox so if you send it in that’s a waste of your battery. But whatever suits you. ANYWAY…

There is absolutely nothing to defend here. Just know if you are trying to justify what’s happened then you are sick and most definitely part of the problem.

What Bri did may be common on other sites like AO3 or even in hard copy books, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay. For example: Just because war happens in other countries it doesn’t mean it’s okay. Just because education is restricted in other countries, doesn’t mean it’s okay. Right ?

So let’s all stop pretending that there is nothing wrong here when there clearly is. The fact that @sturniololuv08 REFUSED to remove the fanfic is mind-blowing. Her fic the kind of thing that governments would remove from the internet. So what makes you think it’s anything far from illegal and disgusting ??

I’m not hating on anybody’s personal fantasies. (As much as I’d love to say my piece). But there are some —a lot— of things that you can and should keep to yourself.

I don’t want to talk too much about the contents of the fanfiction or the AU. As a people pleaser and as someone who just doesn’t like trouble, I kept my mouth shut. But as an account with a following, I cannot just sit around and wait for change.

If you are reading this, please consider how writing like Bri’s can affect people who have been in negative situations. I won’t comment on the whole ‘flirting’ affair with Kay because I don’t know enough and frankly, it’s none of my business. But if there’s anything you take from this message today, let it be that sexual assault is not a joke. It’s not romantic. It’s not a ‘small’ deal. It is an offense.

That’s all. I promise there’ll be more positivity on my account soon. Also let me know if there are any typos. SZIASZTOK !!

— phone4pills

[antinousletmehit]

Stop I find the past relationship between Antinous and his sister so adorable....... though I imagine he got mad at her one time because she finally tried alcohol and she couldn't hide she was drunk and Antinous nearly strangled her and whoever gave her said alcohol..... He's just like so..... Nice but also like (pardon my language) an ass...... Like bro needs to chill

I’m gonna make this ask angsty

——

Y/N sat in the corner of the palace kitchen, her small frame hunched over as she tried to steady her spinning vision. She hiccuped, clutching her knees, her cheeks flushed and her movements clumsy. She knew she’d messed up. She’d taken what she thought was juice from a goblet left unattended by one of the suitors, only to discover far too late that it wasn’t. Now, her head was swimming, and she felt strange—giggly one moment, then on the verge of tears the next.

Antinous stormed into the room, his face a mask of exhaustion after a long day of dealing with the suitors. His eyes landed on Y/N, her disheveled state immediately raising suspicion. Her attempts to look inconspicuous were laughable at best—she sat stiffly, her gaze darting around the room, and her hiccups were impossible to miss. “Y/N,” Antinous said sharply, his voice cutting through the quiet. He crossed the room in long strides, towering over her small form. “What’s wrong with you?”

“N-Nothing!” She stammered, waving her hands weakly in front of her as if to ward off his suspicion. “I’m fine, I promise!”

Antinous narrowed his eyes. “You’re not fine. Why are you sitting here like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t?”

She hiccuped again and immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, her wide eyes betraying her guilt. “I—I just felt… tired! That’s all!” Leaning closer, Antinous sniffed the air near her. His expression darkened immediately when he caught the distinct scent of wine. His jaw tightened, and his hand shot out to grab her arm, gripping it tightly enough to make her wince.

“Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Did you drink wine?”

“No! I mean… I thought it was juice!” she blurted out, her voice trembling as she tried to pull her arm free. “I didn’t know, I swear!”

Antinous’s grip tightened further, and Y/N whimpered, her eyes filling with tears. His face was a mix of fury and frustration, and his usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be found.

“Who gave it to you?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Who thought it was a good idea to let a child drink wine? Tell me now, Y/N, or I swear—”

She shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I—I don’t know! It was just sitting there, and I was thirsty! Please don’t be mad!”

Antinous stared down at her, his chest heaving as he tried to control his anger. He was torn between wanting to shake sense into her and finding whoever had left the goblet unattended. His sister, his baby sister, was sitting there drunk, and it filled him with a sickening combination of rage and guilt.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” he snapped, his voice harsh. “You’re a child, Y/N! You don’t just go drinking things without knowing what they are!”

She sniffled, her small hands clutching at his wrist as she pleaded, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please don’t hit me!”

Antinous froze at her words, his eyes widening in shock. The implication of her fear struck him like a blow to the chest. Slowly, he loosened his grip on her arm, his fingers trembling.

“I—” he started, his voice faltering as he struggled to push down his anger. He knelt in front of her, his hands falling to his sides. “Y/N, I’m not going to hit you. I’d never—” He cut himself off, his throat tight with emotion.

She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, her hiccups turning into soft sobs. Antinous exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself.

“Whoever left that wine out is going to regret it,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “But you… You’re not to blame, Y/N. Just—don’t ever do something like this again. Do you hear me?”

She nodded quickly, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice small and broken.

Antinous sighed heavily, pulling her into a tight hug. “You scared me, you idiot,” he muttered, his tone softening. “Don’t ever do this again, okay? I can’t lose you.”

She buried her face in his chest, her small hands clutching at his tunic. “I won’t. I promise.”

Antinous held her there for a long moment, his anger ebbing away as he focused on the sound of her breathing. He silently vowed to find the careless fool who had left that goblet behind—and to keep Y/N safe, no matter what.

@simpformoonkight

[jsooly]

death in the family (2) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, dad and mom to the rescue. scared for the kids’ safety, they agree to leave… without you?

p.s. i've seen your requests so far and i love every single one! i'm super excited to write them <3

(1) / (2) / (3) / (4*) / (5) / (6*- ur here! ☆)

+ chapters with an * beside it means that it’s following atwow plot line as opposed to disconnected scenarios

neytiri had a strong sense of premonition, one that could only develop when dealing with such troublesome children. she knew from the moment jake grounded lo'ak, he would try and do something to regain the freedom he lost.

her youngest son always manages to surprise her with his roguish innocence. not only did he go to a forbidden place, he didn't pull back the moment he laid eyes on the recoms and put his sisters in danger alongside him.

did he think all the rules she and jake gave them were arbitrarily made up?

"neteyam, update your sister on our situation." jake called over the wind. "we might be out late."

behind him, neteyam nodded and pressed his comms.

"lightning bug, this is pathfinder, come in." neteyam was always the best at keeping up code names. lo'ak often slipped in a 'dad,' 'mom," or 'bro' here and there, but as with all things, neteyam takes his father's instructions to the last letter. "hello?"

neytiri cast a confused glance to her husband. it was unlike you to not respond.

"come in, bug, this is devil dog. answer us." jake spoke into his comms urgently.

"did anyone see her before we left?" neytiri asked, pulling her ikran back to match pace with the two boys.

"no, mother."

jake shook his head, running through his memory for a glimpse of you at high camp. he grunted when he came up empty. "m'sure she's just sleeping or something. we got a bigger problem right now."

“i know a quick way!” neteyam yelled over the wind, guiding his ikran to a shortcut.

jake and neytiri dove behind him, hoping it wasn't too late for their children.

. . .

you awoke with a groan, brows creasing as the blur in your vision mellowed out.

"y/n!" tuk squealed softly, thrashing in her captor's grip. “you’re bleeding!”

huh?

your eyes scan the circle you've found yourself in. the recoms got the children on the ground, bound by their queue or neck. faintly, you could hear spider's voice chatting with the commander.

and yes, you were in fact bleeding.

the bullet that grazed the length of your arm left a nasty laceration from your elbow to your shoulder. it burned like hot oil was carefully poured in a line on your skin, and ached like a ten day workout.

you began to sit up when a foot smashed into your chest. the wind was stolen from your lungs and you dropped back to the ground with a choked gasp.

you shot lo’ak a warning look right as he jerked against his captor’s grip. with an unhappy growl, he settled down.

“keep her on the ground.” quaritch snapped.

quaritch. that’s who this guy was—this avatar, rather.

“i hope you realize you almost killed three of my men,” the commander squatted on his hind legs but still managed to tower over you. “thankfully they were saved by that shit aim of yours.”

the three injured were off to the side, grunting in pain as they pulled your deep rooted arrowhead from their flesh. you remembered when you weaved blue and yellow, inspired by neytiri’s signature green and yellow, in the fletching of every single arrow sunken into them. removing them was a slow and painful process, the blade cutting just as much coming out as it did going in.

in a surprising revelation, you found yourself… thoroughly enjoying their struggle.

shit aim or not, they’ll remember the pain when they saw those blue and yellow tufts again.

you scowled, pushing the soldier’s boot off your chest roughly. they must have understood you weren’t much of a threat in your throttled state, because they didn’t move to restrain you further.

lo’ak hissed in na’vi. “(why didn’t you bring the gun?)”

you scoffed at his impertinence. “(i thought the worst you’d come across was a viper wolf, not dad’s greatest enemy. why didn’t you run away when i told you to?)”

a recom nudged your head with the barrel of their rifle. “hey. shut up.”

“(yeah, yeah, i know i was stupid.)” lo’ak cut you off, saving himself from further verbal assault.

“(that's right, and your stupid ass shouldn’t have come back.)” you clicked your tongue.

lo’ak’s face was painted with something between guilt and stubbornness. “(i was trying to help you!)”

“(you had the others to think of!)”

“but—”

"what would it take for you to shut up?!" quaritch whirled, irked from being puled out of his conversation (though it looked more like an argument) with spider. “it’s like a zoo in here, all the yipping and yapping.”

he stalked over to you, eyeing you curiously as he rested his hands on his belt. "matter of fact, why do i even need you?"

the recom behind you pressed the barrel of their gun firmly against your scalp. the distressed whines of tuk wasn't unheard by you, nor was kiri's uncertain promises that everything will be okay.

“hold off, lyle.” quaritch squinted at your face, scanning your features with a laser-like precision.

“don’t tell me… you’re that little brat that was always at his feet, weren’t you? well, wheels is more accurate.” he laughed heartily, looking at his company in condescending awe. “man, that jake sully just keeps getting better and better.”

. . .

night fell and your situation didn’t improve at all. but it didn’t worsen, either.

in the night, pandora grew even more dangerous and the way the recoms were patrolling the area meant they weren’t taking any chances underestimating her.

but then a call rang through. every kid turned their heads towards it. she was easily mistaken for the night noises of pandora’s wildlife, but to her children, neytiri’s voice was instantly recognizable.

you heard a thudding off to the side but saw nothing. before you could even turn your head back around, an arrow flew past your head and into the skull of the man holding kiri.

green and yellow fletching. it was over for them.

the next moments happened in a blur—

quartich pushed spider out the way, letting bullets fly towards the treetops.

lo’ak ripped the pin from a grenade, the burst of gas disabling some soldiers. he sunk his teeth into the recom behind him, tuk following his lead and doing the same.

once he took care of that, lo’ak launched himself onto the man holding you hostage, jumping onto his back and using the momentum to throw him off balance and face-first into the dirt.

“come on,” he grunted, pulling you up and onto his back. you grit your teeth when he squeezed your injured arm, and he murmured apologies when he heard your pained heavy breathing. “tuk, come on!”

he grabbed his baby sister’s hand. running off into the tall bushes and leaves, you caught the glint of neytiri’s arrowhead as she loaded another projectile into her bow.

you didn’t know where kiri or spider were at the moment. still, your brain finally allowed you to pass out from shock and blood loss knowing your parents were there to get everyone to safety.

. . .

“…hunting us. he’s targeting our family.”

“you cannot ask this! the children. everything they’ve ever known—this is our home!”

the words came in one ear, out the other. your head pounded, the thumping echoing in your chest, your ears... the whole world spun around you in a dizzying whirl.

“he had our children. he had ‘em under his knife!” jake's voice sliced through the fog in your mind. you felt him shift beside you, his calloused hand lifting your arm as he rewrapped your gauze.

rewrapped? how long were you out?

“look at this,” jake said, shaking your arm gently, his anger seeping through the tenderness. “he didn’t even hesitate!”

neytiri's voice cut in, louder now as she approached her husband. “my father gave me this bow—” she choked on the words, “as he lay dying. and he said protect the people—”

“honey—”

“you’re toruk makto!” neytiri's hoarse cry electrified the air, pained and anguished. “majake, we must fight.”

“this will protect the people!” jake pushed himself up, his frustration erupting, the words tumbling out in an rush of heat. “they’ve got spider. that kid knows everything. if the people harbour us, they will die.”

in a rush of clarity, your eyes cracked open. still drowsy, the words took a while to finally register in your brain. if they harbor us? where are we going?

“oh, y/n,” neytiri gasped with relief, kneeling beside you and running her slender hand over your head. “you are awake. thank you, eywa.” she whispered.

“are we leaving..? home?” your voice was barely a whisper.

neytiri’s shoulders dropped, her eyes unfocused. jake sat beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders in a silent promise of comfort.

“look, i got nothing.” he whispered gruffly, low and worn, more to her than you. he met her gaze, a silent plea for understanding. “i got no plan. but i can protect this family. that, i can do.”

neytiri blinked tears from her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. jake pulled her in, his grip tightening.

“dad.” you cut through the tension, your voice unsteady as you sat up. with a bewildered look on your face, you recaptured his attention. “are we leaving?”

jake gave neytiri a look drenched with grief. he scooted closer to you, his palm resting on your cheek. his thumb brushed your skin, as if to soothe your doubt.

then, in a picture of irony, a father reassuring his daughter delivered a killing blow—

“we’re leaving, baby. you’re… going to stay.”

—

“what?” the word tore itself from your throat, disbelieving.

the roof of the marui thundered under the feet of your siblings. done with eavesdropping, their protests rang through the air.

"you're leaving me behind?" you shot up, your feelings about the breach of faith plastered all over your face.

"jake?" neytiri's voice was sharp, a note of surprise in her words as she glanced at him, eyes narrowing.

"it's bad enough that we're not prepared for other environments." jake reasoned. "bringing a human there would make chances for uturu even slimmer."

"'a human?'" you recoiled, the sting of his words cutting deeper than expected. you, his daughter, reduced to just a human?

jake sighed, gazing at you helplessly. "you know i didn't mean it like that, baby."

“you wanna 'protect the family' and you’re abandoning me?” you said bitterly, the disbelief palpable in your voice. “suddenly i’m not a part of it anymore?”

jake’s eyes narrowed, irked by your insinuation. “of course you are part of the family.”

you rolled your eyes. didn’t feel like it.

“why were you even out there in the first place?” jake shifted closer, his eyes sharp as a blade as they bore into you.

“looking for another reason to ground me?” you shot back, voice wavered as the hurt in your chest spread.

“watch it, kid.” jake snapped, tilting his head dangerously. the command in his tone made you want to shrink, but you fought it down.

you massaged your temples, pain flaring up your arm as you were reminded of your body's current limits. jake reached out to you with concern, but you stepped back slightly, avoiding his touch. you couldn't face how pitiful he must look, not when the anger and hurt were still too fresh.

"dad, you're not serious." lo'ak came storming in. "you can't—"

"not now, boy." jake's words were clipped, unable to look his family's in their eyes.

"but sir—"

"lo'ak." neytiri cut in firmly. do not push any further.

"y/n, you will stay with norm and max. that's final." jake said, his tone resolute but tired.

you meet jake's eyes and for a moment you wonder if this was all a bad dream and you’re still passed out on the floor from the gash in your arm. you wonder, did he make the decision lightly, or did he truly have no other options? you wonder if he thought you were old enough to be on your own.

did he realize you had no purpose outside of this family he welcomed you into? if you couldn’t follow them, where else did you have to go?

“dad, i…” you faltered, unsure of what you were trying to say. out of the corner of your eye, you saw neytiri clutching her head in frustration, her gaze fixed on you with silent pain.

“i can adapt. i promise. if that’s what you’re worried about…” you continued, the words spilling out before you knew what you were saying. you weren't above begging, not if it meant staying with the only home and family you've ever known.

jake clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, anxiety and desperation flooding his every movement. “not like this, y/n. the ocean na’vi, they… they are more wary of sky people. even more than our own clan.”

your eyebrows furrowed. “i’ll keep to myself.” you whispered, hope trying its hardest to cling to your promises.

he sighed, turning away. a weight seemed to settle on you both. “no, y/n.”

“yes, i’ll keep to myself. like i always have!" you voice was rising, and your voice croaked as you pleaded with your father. "i won’t get in anyone's way. i won’t talk to anyone. i'll pull my weight too, i’ll cook and—”

"no." jake's voice cracked, anger bubbling over. “i said no! you will stay with norm and max.”

“i don’t want to stay with them.” you were reduced to childish retorts. the only thing you wanted to communicate was how much you needed them and it was flying over his head.

jake grabbed your wrist, lifting your arm slightly. he immediately dropped it when he saw your face contort in pain. “that. that is the best outcome for a run in with this guy. i’m not risking any of you getting hurt, or worse!”

“and your solution is to leave me alone with him around?” you were jake's prideful daughter, something that was only ever a problem when you got into fights. neither of you were willing to back down. so you returned his screaming match with one of your own. “no one else here would care if i was captured, and you know it.”

jake frowned. “that’s not true.”

"yes, it is. and you'd leave me here anyway!" your body couldn't decide which to choose: fight or flight? teetering between anger and distress, your hands trembled. “i don’t have a clan or an avatar to fall back on!”

“it’s final. i’ve decided.” jake's expression was unreadable, his resolve set. he cast a sideways glance at neytiri, who looked onward with silent disagreement. he ignored the churning feeling in his chest.

you laughed humourlessly. “i don’t—what’s so different about adapting to the water than the forest? it’s a learning curve i’m familiar with, i can—”

“you think it was easy bringing you in?” jake's voice dropped to a growl, and he caught your gaze with a searing glare. “you think it was easy raising you, here? i’m not doing that again.”

silence fell over the marui, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone. tuk held onto kiri’s hand, both girls’ gazes stuck to the ground. it was a miracle lo’ak hadn’t shoved himself into the argument. instead he was channeling that energy into pacing back and forth. neteyam was the only one strong enough to hold his head high, but a big sister’s eye could catch the way he blinked too fast and his drooping posture.

anyone would see jake was protecting his family, but all you could see was your father abandoning you. was... raising you so much of a burden as he made it out to be?

“jake.” neytiri’s call was soft, a tinge of disappointment filtering through. she rest her hands on your shoulders, as if trying to ease you into something you couldn't understand.

you shrugged her off. a burning ball of emotion was stuck in your throat, and with every shaky breath, the dam was threatening to break.

“it’s… he made himself clear. i’m going.” you muttered, gulping the heartache back down to burn up in your stomach.

jake tensed up when you finally complied. he reached out to you instinctively, but his hand paused midair. “baby, wait. please. you don’t have to go now.”

“stay, y/n? don’t go.” tuk whispered when she clung to you, her request a tether you couldn't bring yourself to break.

you felt claustrophobic. suffocated. like the universe itself was collapsing inside your chest.

"dinner?” neteyam offered a compromise, his voice tentative. ever the dutiful son.

when you looked at neteyam, all you could picture was that little kid who looked up to you as if you hung the stars in the sky. you remembered—you were still the oldest.

you glanced around the room at your siblings’ quiet dejection. in the moment, you didn't want them to go but you didn't want to stay either—in any case, you didn’t want to leave on this note.

“dinner.” you agreed, your response barely audible, snatching your effects from where they lay on the ground and storming out.

jake, stretched between guilt and uncertainty, began to start off in your direction. neytiri pulled him back, her grip tight on her husband's wrist.

“give her time.” she said simply, the three words heavy with unspoken sentiments. she barely met her husband’s eyes before stalking off.

the silence persisted long after you left.

. . .

thanks for reading <3

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @dae-dreamer @delirious-dolce @strawbaerriesvt @avatar-lover @ryiana @lxon-kxnnedy @zukki33

© jsooly ‘25