#but also Treacherous </3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyswan · 1 year ago

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summary: in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.

> idol!jungkook x reader / est. relationship, fluff, angst / word count: 7k

> content/warnings: yea shirtless jungkook should be a warning… one (1) spank then he kisses it better, also gives a kiss to that lil bow on oc’s undies >:( + a flashback of oc crying and him getting stressed out bcs oc is a careless brat fr

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe i’m here <3 this drabble is basically just oc in a mood and jungkook being the sweetest bf ever 🤨 idk how it got this long either heh it didn’t feel that way at all while i wrote-edited? but i hope u enjoy and i’d love to hear ur thoughts 🥺 reblogs/feedback are appreciated !! <3

—

“oh my god- fuck!”

you cover your mouth in shock, squeezing your eyes shut and flinching at the ear-splitting sound that bounces off the walls of the apartment.

jungkook is rendered frozen, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slacked, staring down at his shirt largely stained by the chocolate milk you were walking around with after brunch.

“damn…”

his eyes are irritable when they communicate with yours.

“baby! really? did it have to be the white one?”

but seconds later, they become worried and calculating — wandering all over the tiled floor, and then your bare feet infront of his slides-clad ones, surrounded by shattered pieces of ceramic.

the collateral damage. an unforeseen tragedy.

suffice to say, jungkook woke up this morning blissfully unaware of the turbulent storm threatening to make a playground out of your mind. it’s craving to feed destruction, and here he is living with you under the same roof, an unfortunate casualty from your antics.

the hand-painted mug, wet from the condensation, slipped away from your hands when you accidentally collided with his tough build at the intersection of the living room and the kitchen. this… wasn’t part of the plan. the plan was a little spill and this is a landslide.

“that was expensive too.” you utter wistfully, chest deflating as you release an exasperated breath. “sorry. i’ll clean up everything. just stay there and i’ll- when did i last see the broom-”

his doe eyes grow two times its size when you start looking around the apartment in search of the broom, and perhaps something you can use to pat yourself and jungkook dry, causing your feet to unconsciously shift on the treacherous ground.

“ba-baby! don’t move! you’re going to hurt yourself. are you crazy?” he interrupts you with a hiss, voice stern as his hands curl around your arms to hold you steady. “it’s okay. this is nothing, i’m not mad… just stay still, understand?”

you nod slowly as he lets go, eyebrows knitting together to convey confusion when he starts pulling his shirt over his head, revealing miles of bare skin and planes of defined muscles on a perfect silhouette. perfect because it’s jungkook.

alright… to see him half-naked wasn’t one of your intentions, but you’re definitely not one to complain.

“tsk, i think i need to shower again.”

figuring that the internet has a solution to every problem one could think of, jungkook has decided to accept the horror that has happened to his shirt. what was it again? salt? vinegar? baking soda? powder? fuck it, he’ll search for it later.

he throws caution to the wind by using it to wipe his damp torso, brushing it over his tan skin glistening with a sheen of the liquid that you wittingly spilled. he winces at the uncomfortable stickiness that could be felt across his stomach, but he can’t help but to laugh when he sees how it further accentuated his abs.

and if only you were in a chipper mood today, you would be laughing along with him. would’ve taken over cleaning him up, apologized with a kiss on his waist. too bad you’re not.

eventually, he gives up on erasing on the feeling, proceeding to fold the shirt in halves.

“what are you doing?” you snap, putting on a guise of harsher irritation over your dreamy stares at your boyfriend’s glorious physique. “are we just supposed to stand here forever like idiots?”

“what is this? why are you so grumpy today?” he questions with a frown, patting your cheek with the soft cottony fabric because the splash managed to reach your face unbeknownst to you.

and then he bends down to place the folded shirt infront of your feet, looking up to you with his galaxy-filled eyes to say, “here- come on. stand here while i clean up.”

you stand isolated on the safe zone he created, childishly pouting with your arms crossed over chest as you wait for him to pick up your slippers in the bedroom.

the simple answer to jungkook’s question is you’re bored and in a bad mood. the more complex answer would be you came up with a one-man game you can only win if you successfully piss your boyfriend off, but you’re too scared to pull off anything that will legitimately make him upset with you.

because the last time you made him angry, it hasn’t been… that long ago. he’s been keeping a closer eye on you since then, and you’ve been trying to be good. keyword being trying. after all, you did lost his car key… at a beach three hours away from home. you searched the entire shore — retraced your steps, made your knees and palms bleed digging through the rocky sand, curled up by the waves to wallow in self-blame and the smell of salt-air defeat. you were nearly in tears as you listened to the call ring for what felt like an eternity, unsure if he already wrapped up the company meeting he mentioned to you the day before.

you still remember the desperate words you greeted him with instead of ‘hello’.

“babe, promise me you won’t be mad.”

—

“____, you didn’t even tell me you were coming here! care to explain that to me first? huh?”

your name, and not ‘baby’? heavens above have mercy; you’re fucked.

jungkook presses the heels of his palms over his eyes to alleviate the dull throbbing of his head, breathing heavily to compose himself, but he can’t disguise the frustration deeply embedded in his voice.

“you scared me!”

not yelling, but tone evidently very upset with you. somehow, that makes you feel worse.

“i had to make up an excuse infront of everyone and drive here fast. i was so worried of you being here all alone when it gets dark!”

“it’s your car so i thought i had to let you know right away. i’m sorry.” you chew at your bottom lip anxiously, eyes brimming with tears as you barely muster up the courage to observe how he’s handling this.

your heart pounds louder in your chest when he finally looks down at you, guilty and gloomy, sat on a wooden bench painted yellow. it drops to your stomach when you see the sullen expression painting his face a light shade of red.

“where did you lose it?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you can only manage to point at the shore with your disoriented eyes, and he traces the direction with his. the majestic orange sky where the sun descends below the horizon fails to be recognized by your foggy, distracted minds.

it’s silent for a few beats, then he huffs, breathing out a sarcastic chuckle before burying his face in hands.

“baby, please. please. are you sure you’re not pranking me right now?”

“no! do you think i’d joke like this? i really tried my best to find it!” you sniffle, roughly wiping away the lone tear that escapes your eye. you’re almost too humiliated to continue talking, volume falling a few notches above a whisper. “but the waves were getting stronger.”

he vehemently shakes his head, rendered speechless and stuttering, malfunctioning. he doesn’t think he has ever imagined this type of scenario before. “this is crazy. really… this is unbelievable… how did this even happen?”

he exhales loudly before removing his hands, revealing a calmer exterior. be that as it may, his skin is more flushed, all the way to his ears and down to his neck, where his veins have become noticeably prominent.

“i mean, what else can we do about it? i’ll request for a new one.”

“but are we just going to leave the car here?”

“did you leave anything in there?”

“i left my bag, but…” you pat the pockets of your skirt to check if your valuables didn’t meet the same fate as the car key. “i brought my phone and wallet with me.”

he nods. “then i’ll call a towing service.”

you pout.

“it’s such a bother.”

feeling exhausted after burning a concerning amount of energy in search of the missing item, you stand on wobbly feet to loop your arms around his waist.

maybe it’s to coax him into forgiving you. maybe it’s to make yourself feel better, nuzzle your face on his chest to drive away the anxiety weighing on your shoulders. but as it’s being lifted off, so is the barrier withholding your salty tears.

“i’m so careless. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i should’ve drove my car instead.”

“ye- no, that’s not…” he cuts himself off with a sigh.

he puts an arm around you, pushing his hair back and repeatedly carding his fingers through it out of habit.

“seriously, baby… you stress me out so much, do you know that? you’re always wandering around places you’re not familiar with… this is secluded. it’s dangerous. you could get hurt if you bump into the wrong people… really, i’m just relieved it’s not yourself that you lost this time!”

the recollection of old flashbacks playing in his mind like a movie reel elicits a throaty chuckle from him, low and rough, the vibrations of his chest rudely awakening the butterflies in your stomach.

“you couldn’t even send me a text. you didn’t turn on your location. i would’ve lost my fucking mind again… did you even thought of that? or is that what you wanted, huh? baby? you enjoy driving me crazy like this?”

and the confession tucked inside his scolding obliterates any coherent thoughts in your head, causing you to lose control of your whirlwind of emotions.

“this isn’t fair. you said you won’t be mad.” you wail out in response, tears fiercely leaking from your eyes akin to a rainstorm. “i didn’t know this would happen!”

he clicks his tongue, gingerly caressing your wet cheeks with his thumb, then with the rest of his fingers, and the paw of his jacket, because the streams just seem to have no plans of ceasing. his wide eyes worriedly scans your tear-stained face, heart squeezed painfully by the restrained sobs forcefully ripping themselves from your throat.

“shhh, shh. don’t cry- don’t cry. i’m not mad, i was just worried about you.”

“jungkook, you’re lying.” you whine. “don’t lie to me. i don’t like it.”

he slowly blinks at you, head hanging low as to compose his thoughts before he reconnects with your eyes. a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips before his tongue unconsciously sweeps over them, its tip catching the silver ring piercing through his skin to play with it.

a moment of silence, thick with restlessness and anticipation, harder to breathe with the unique smell of the salt-air entering and leaving your lungs.

you feel small under his stoic gaze. you want to sit back down and cry harder.

your boyfriend is mad. your boyfriend is infuriatingly hot even when he’s disappointed in you. you need to dig a hole in the sand and live there forever. after everything, these are the only thoughts left running in your head.

“okay, fine. you lost the key of our car in the ocean, ____. but what if someone already found it by chance?” he cocks his head to the side, briefly peering at the road behind you.

he knows that it’s no use. even if he does see the white jeep wheeling by, is he supposed to assume that he can outrun it by some heaven-granted miracle?

“what then? hm…? what else can we do? i guess it could be getting stolen right now and we don’t even know. you parked so far away.”

god, please, not your favorite car.

“it’s not only the car. i still have important documents left in the compartment too.” this only dawns on him now, judging by the look of distress written on his face. he suddenly slaps his thigh, and you flinch a little. “fuck! i should’ve cleaned sooner!”

“then you are mad.” you arrive at a conclusion, chin wobbling as you sniffle. “about a lot of things.”

you resist the urge to stomp your feet. you want to throw a tantrum so bad. tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping such things in the car in the first place, that he owns a safe for fuck’s sake, but you know you can’t get away with shifting the blame because you messed up horribly in comparison.

“i get it. i’m sorry… i take full responsibility this time.”

“shit, baby.” he deeply sighs.

it becomes quiet again. he just looks at your face with knitted eyebrows, not saying anything more, and you try your best to cut off your crying, not to act conscious, but your eyes still fall on the sand. they stay there for a few beats to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

he almost sounds pained when he finally speaks. “how can i stay mad at you when you’re crying?”

he tilts up your chin, and your glassy eyes, sparkling with a new wave of tears, look at him beseechingly.

the setting sun. an eternal witness to a brand new day of humans being humans. it kisses your skin with its golden light, bathing your figure to radiate an angelic glow that drives him to consider once more that you could just be an enchanting character across dreams and the year is still 2017.

you sniffle again, brushing off his hand. sometimes you despise that jungkook brings out messiest, most unstable side of you. you know that he practically signed up for this, and he will always love you the same, love you even more. but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re so embarrassed.

“but i’m not crying just to make you feel bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“yah, that wasn’t what i meant?” he frowns, eyes softening at your reply. “of course. i know that.”

the cracks in your voice, he seals with a soft kiss on your lips, tender and swollen caused by the onslaught of your sharp teeth.

“anyway, i can take care of replacing it. i mean, it’s not like it can get stolen just like that, right…?”

he sounds rather nervous convincing the both of you.

“but i’m most worried about you. i can lose everything but you.” his tattooed arm pulls you closer, casting aside the tension by leaving not even an inch of space between your bodies. he tenderly rubs your back to console you, and another kiss is granted to your temple, his soothing voice slightly muffled as his lips stay glued to you. “did i make you cry? i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry… it’s okay. things like this can happen.”

“no, i’m sorry.” you aggressively shake your head and he carries on with wiping your cheeks, the back of his hand brushing off the tears that drip across your chin. he dries his hand on the hem of his jacket only to get it wet all over again.

“let’s just learn from this and move on. promise me that you’ll be more careful next time, okay? you can do that, right?”

jungkook does scold you every now and then, but although you stress him out, he would hate it if he’s not the first person you call when you’re in trouble. he would hate it if you act nonchalant and secretly cry when you’re hurt. but most of all, he can’t imagine a life in which you don’t make his world spin, much as he tends to get too dizzy at times.

your defiant hum makes his tense shoulders drop in disappointment.

“there should be a bus stop somewhere, i’ll just go home on my own. i don’t want to keep stressing you out.”

you will yourself to break free from his embrace, dragging yourself away to leave behind a trail of footprints in the sand, and he knows he’ll be running after you today, too.

“oh? you better stop right there!” he warns with a hand over his hip.

you become smaller and smaller in his eyes with every tick of the clock, much like how the sun is gradually getting swallowed by the ocean.

“i’ll get angry for real if you disappear from my sight. really, i’m not joking!”

angry? what a joke. you know that he’d cry blood searching for you if you get lost.

“oh? you’re really not going to stop?!”

jungkook’s voice fall on deaf ears, except that of the dog leashed to a tree that stands infront of a humble home. it seethingly barks at him from many meters away.

“fucking shit. i need alcohol.” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. “____, i swear, you’re getting too stubborn these days. what should i do with you?”

but you’re too far away to hear him, and so, he answers himself.

“eh, it is what it is.”

the wind blows with a quiet whistle, deadly as it fuels the roaring waves.

“AH! nuh-uh!” he exclaims, jaw dropping in alarm when he sees an urgent reason to chase after you, putting those leg days at the gym to good use.

you jump, a squeak leaving your mouth when out of nowhere, a solicitous palm smooths over your behind, sliding down to the back of your thighs to hold down your rippling skirt.

but you’re determined to be unyielding, eyes shooting daggers at jungkook. “leave me alone. i can do it myself.”

“baby, isn’t that a little rude? is that how you say ‘thank you’?”

“thank you. now let’s go our separate ways.”

and just like that, you’re walking away again.

“shit.” he curses quietly through gritted teeth, pulling at his hair. “babe, please come back… i’m sorry! i didn’t mean that!”

—

“jungkook! how many times do i need to tell you to turn off faucet properly?!”

you’re hot on jungkook’s tail as he makes his way to the laundry room beside the kitchen, carrying a laundry basket over his hip. he’s still shirtless, only clad in a different pair of shorts after a quick shower.

“the bathroom sink was close to overflowing! again!”

“i know what you’re doing.”

“what? what am i doing?”

the basket touches the ground, standing beside the dryer, and then he turns to face you, eyebrows shooting up. “picking a fight with me won’t work today.”

“why?” your tone borders on a whine.

“what do you mean ‘why’?” he laughs in jest. “why? why do you want to fight with me so bad?”

“i don’t know.” you exhale loudly, rolling your eyes and shrugging. “just because!”

“well, that’s not very convincing, is it?” he teases you with a grin, proceeding to open the dryer to dump the fresh laundry in the basket. the clothes you wore in the past week once again soaked up the sweet, floral scent the people around you distinctly recognizes to be your own and jungkook’s.

“i know, but i’m done playing now. you’re not hearing me.” you close your eyes in frustration, recounting the other times you had to say these exact words. “you’re going to flood our house.”

“okay, okay. i won’t forget to double-check it from now on. i promise.”

“sure, that’s what you also said last time.” you indignantly scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’m not turning it off for you anymore. if we get flooded, i’m leaving you. i’m moving out.”

your threat puts a halt to his movements for a split second before he’s adorably replying in a sing-song voice. “then i’m going with you.”

“no, you’re not.”

and it doesn’t come as a shock to you that jungkook doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“huh! good luck trying to stop me.” he slams the door of the dryer shut, standing up straight. “it’s not easy getting rid of me. you know that.”

he walks to the middle of the room to get a good view of you at the entrance. with the other resting on his hip, he lies his palm flat over the counter, outstretched arm cascading with varied colors of ink in sharp lines and swirling curves.

fuck, he has to know what he’s doing — flexing his muscles like that, not playing fair.

“aigoo, look at you glaring at me. you want to fight?”

and you’d feel intimidated by his challenging stare, the quirk of his eyebrow, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip… only if he didn’t blink to rake a stare over your body, lingering on your smooth legs that couldn’t be covered by your mere underwear. only if they didn’t flicker back to your face, and only if he didn’t smirk like a lovesick fool.

“so cute.” he chuckles. “you’re totally my type.”

“shut up.” you roll your eyes at the random compliment. “i know, i already get that a lot.”

his smile then fades, not so thrilled with the reminder that it’s so easy to fall in love with you, and therefore anyone would die to take his place. he knows that they hover around you like moths to a flame when he’s not there. well, he really can’t blame them, can he? you’re so fucking attractive.

“what does that mean…? who else is saying it, huh? tell me. i think i have a few guesses.”

“does it matter?” you stare at him blankly, which then turns into a piercing glare. “jungkook! i was just talking about you not paying enough attention. look at you proving me right!”

the stomp of your feet on the floor tells him that you’ve reached a level of frustration near to inducing a flood of tears.

oh, he truly got called out, huh?

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry. i admit that. i’m sorry, my love. i was just joking around. i’m listening well now.” he winces guiltily, beckoning you to be where he is. “come here then.”

“i don’t want to.” you stay rooted in your spot. “who do you think you are?”

“m-me…? i’m your boyfriend. boyfriend!” he points at himself, index finger repeatedly poking his bare chest to emphasize his point. his arm then drops to his side. his doe eyes widen as he breathes out a sigh of disbelief. “oh, i’m really getting upset now?”

you bite back a smile. the sweet taste of victory.

you can’t be the only one, can you?

“aish, i see you’re having your way again.” he chuckles, taking it upon himself to cross the distance between you. his hands find purchase on the curves of your waist, and every nerve in your body turns into a live wire. “let’s just go out today. do you want to practice boxing at the gym with me?”

didn’t he just watch you do arms day this morning? does he think you have the same stamina as him? you make a face of disapproval and shake your head.

“shall we go to a rage room again then? break more stuff?” he playfully sticks his tongue out, and you glare once more.

for the record, you loved that mug.

“boring.”

“and fighting with me is fun?”

you purse your lips into a thin line. “well, it’s not boring.”

“of course.” he laughs, softly squeezing your waist, pads of his thumbs mindlessly tracing shapes over the fabric of your top.

all of a sudden, he’s tugging you closer to envelope you in his embrace, voice slightly muffled as he sweetly talks. “are you mad at me for real? i’m sorry. sorry, sorry, sorry. sorry. i’ll really be more mindful of the things you remind me about, i swear… i don’t like fighting. it breaks my heart when you cry.”

what is this five foot ten man with bulging biceps, tattoo sleeve, and piercings doing here in the crook of your neck — affectionately nuzzling his face on your skin and telling you in a baby voice that he doesn’t like fighting?

you don’t know, but you feel good.

and his bare body is so comfortingly soft and warm.

he draws back for a kiss but his nose and lips only graze your cheek when you turn away, and you don’t see the sadness that flashes across his face.

“so what i’m hearing is… you don’t like fighting with me because i’m too sensitive? is that the truth?”

“no!” he perks up to interject without hesitation, shaking his head. “but i don’t think that’s a bad thing anyway… being sensitive.”

but you admit being a crybaby. you cry when you’re angry.

that’s when jungkook distinguishes the glint of mischief swimming in your irises. he feels dizzy after having his heart drop to his stomach.

“no. no, no.”

his mirthful grin returns, revealing his perfect set of teeth.

“ahh, i’m stressed!” he closes his eyes, throwing his head back, chest puffing up when he breathes in then out. “i knew it. no, i’m not falling for this trap!”

then he flees the room carrying the laundry basket, leaving you doubled over and covering your mouth to silence your giggles of amusement.

“i’m hanging the laundry now!”

“how dare you walk away from me?!”

“you can’t follow me!”

“i’m not.” you scoff, purposely bumping your hips against his. “i’ll vacuum the living room.”

—

“where are you going? gym?” you genuinely begin to sulk, watching your boyfriend slide into a baggy pair of bleached denim pants. “are you leaving me here?”

he avoids your inquiring eyes, ignoring you as he pulls up his zipper and does the button. you pout when he walks further away to pull out a black shirt from the clothing rack.

“is that it? are you tired of me already?”

he tosses its hanger in the basket where you discard the empty ones before wearing the final piece of clothing, covering himself fully for the first time today.

you sigh, feeling dejected. “you don’t love me anymore?”

and jungkook needs to physically restrain himself so he won’t grab your face and say ‘i love you’ over and over again until he runs out of breath.

you leave the closet to follow him to the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the mattress to put on his socks.

you stand by him, patience quickly running thin. “hello?”

he brushes away the non-existent dirt on the left sock before switching his legs to put on the right one.

“did i turn invisible?”

your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. this isn’t how fighting works. you need a reaction at the very least.

you tug at the sleeve of his shirt, starting to get annoyed, already planning your exit if he continues this act. “you’re hurting my feelings. you’re not even going to look at me?”

he mumbles, and you almost fail to piece his phrase together. “can’t, you’re too pretty.”

his big brown eyes faintly glimmer with hope when he looks up at you, puckering his rose-tinted lips and making kissing sounds.

your sweet and clingy boyfriend, he’s making this too difficult.

a tsunami of affection washes over you, and it becomes impossible for you not to crack at his cheekiness then. “jungkook, you’re impossible!”

atleast he tried to shoot his shot.

“tsk, see? i thought so!” he grumbles, snapping the elastic band on his ankle. “just want one kiss.”

he disappears into the closet again.

he returns not a minute later, unceremoniously placing a white bucket hat on your head before tugging it down to obstruct your vision.

“hey!”

you hastily take it off, scowling at your laughing boyfriend who turns out to be already wearing a black bucket hat of his own.

“you’re bored, aren’t you? let’s go out, have some sun.”

“no.”

you reply exactly as your boyfriend predicted you would.

jungkook captures your wrist to slip his credit card on your palm, folding your fingers over it, but they aren’t enough to hide the black rectangular thing you can use to buy the world with if you wanted to. your amusement spills out as giggles, brighter as he pushes your hand to your chest so you have no other choice but to accept it.

he scrunches his nose, face only inches away from yours as he persuades you with his natural charm. “what if we go shopping, hmm?”

“thanks babe, but i can’t think of anything i want right now.” you sniffle with teary eyes, flipping the card and holding it between your longest fingers as muscle memory takes control.

“then just keep it incase you see something you want.”

he kneels on the floor out of the blue, and you eye him curiously, your fingers automatically tangling with his silky locks before making a loose fist.

“here, put some pants on. hurry-” he presents your pair of faded gray cargo pants.

you tug at his hair lightly, which prompts him to lift his head. you scrunch your nose cutely, giggling. “i’m spoiled.”

“ey, so what if you are?” he brushes off your observation with his satoori accent, blithe tone listing down reasons. “i love you. i worked hard so i can do these things for you. we moved in together so we can take care of each other.”

and you want to cry. you truly do. your face began to feel warm after he said that he loves you, but the tears never make it past your lash line when his big palm lands a loud smack on your ass, skin-to skin.

“but i do think that you are a brat. does that count for something?”

it catches you by surprise, and a scandalized gasp escapes your mouth as you feel the sting spreading across your skin.

“shut up! give that to me.” you roll your eyes, stealing the pants from his grasp.

“see, that’s what i’m talking about.” he chuckles lightheartedly. “get dressed then.”

his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs when he pulls you closer to kiss the tiny little ribbon on your underwear, heart-shaped lips pressed to you so firmly you can trace their outline bleeding through the thin fabric and onto your skin. “mmm-mwah!”

and then you feel them there next, where it still hurts, a softer kiss in comparison to soothe the sting he left behind.

your heart is beating so loud you can feel it in your throat, feeble knees nearly giving away to crash and break.

who does that so casually? who the hell does that?

oh, right… jungkook. of course.

you raise the white flag today.

perhaps he will flood the apartment tomorrow, and you can stay angry longer then.

—

“what’s taking him so long?” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself, lost eyes scanning the park in hopes of getting a glimpse of your boyfriend and his classic jungkook outfit, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.

your sour mood makes a reappearance.

to your credit, taking you out and then asking you to wait here without telling you where he’s going is rude, and you’re lonely and jealous of the couples around you having a picnic. not to mention that the clouds have uncovered the sun and you’re burning.

this scene also leads your brain to wander to those cliche flashbacks in a film or a show where a parent lies to their child that they’ll come back, and then they doesn’t. it’s always, always at some sort of park.

oh, for fuck’s sake, why are you wasting your time giving this a lot of thought?

too bored and antsy to sit still, you finally decide to text jungkook.

to: my baby love

i'm gonna look for food. do you want anything?

orrr is that what you're away buying 😥

WHERE ARE YOU

why didn't you just take me with youuuu

please me lonely :(

[sent 1 photo]

a black cat !! is sleeping on my shoes!! 😭

i miss you :(

are you almost done

i hate u

whatever i'm going. call if you still remember that you're someone's bf i guess.

—

jungkook crosses the street like an excited puppy, long pretty hair bouncing as he practically skips his way to the area where he left you to wait.

only to be greeted by a complete stranger.

his radiant beam fades into a hue of confusion.

the bench is now occupied by a woman chugging an energy drink after running laps around the park.

they lock eyes for a split second. he averts his befuddled stare to pretend that nothing happened, walking past her with a bouquet of sunflowers until he settles down two benches away.

he wears his bucket hat again only for him to throw it aside with a sigh, messing with his hair to release his frustration. of course you left. he can only snort to himself while he reads the last message you sent. you’re so cute. he knows you’ve never been keen on having to wait, but he didn’t expect himself to take so long either.

not wanting you to be upset with him another second longer, he instantly decides to call you.

his forehead creases when his phone vibrates, informing him that he typed an incorrect password. he tries again, slow and deliberate, only for the same thing to happen, and he begins to feel nervous.

what the fuck?

okay, calm down, JK. one more time.

he freezes as the same words flash on the screen. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he feels the irritation bubbling up inside of him.

“why is it like this…? what’s your problem? what am i touching wrong?”

—

you return to the park more carefree than before. since jungkook is god knows where, you decided to have a picnic on your own. you had to buy a new picnic blanket, though. you can’t get the one in the car because he has the key. but just to be petty, you hope that he figured it out from the text notifications he got when you used his card.

oh, there he is looking angrily at his phone.

you halt on your tracks, instantly pulling the brakes on your feet when you recognize your boyfriend from your peripheral vision. you slowly chew the remaining tteokbokki in your mouth.

he’s holding his phone… and he hasn’t called you yet?

“wow, did you seriously forgot about me?”

upon hearing your familiar voice, jungkook’s features soften, not having to squint at the sunlight either because you’ve kindly blocked it with your back.

“where did you even go? i didn’t see you!”

the password-protected device that’s been giving him a headache for the past ten minutes is abandoned in the depths of his pocket.

“baby,” he utters airily as he stands on his feet, reaching out to hold your forearm. “i’m sorry. i took so long, didn’t i…? i went to buy you flowers but they didn’t have tulips anywhere. anywhere. every shop said someone bought all of them!”

he scratches his head with a sheepish grin, revealing the bouquet he’s been concealing behind him.

“i got you sunflowers instead… they-” he points at them, eyes flickering on the bundle of yellow flowers he’s offering as a gift. “they’re not bad. i think they’re pretty too. you like them too, right?”

sunflowers are pretty. after all, it used to be your favorite in middle school, mostly because it’s the first flower you received from an admirer… it was for your birthday and you felt like you died when it withered, heavily on-brand for a young heart drawn to romance. excluding that, everything has changed. it’s a typical saturday and beads of sweat have formed on your lover’s forehead after running around under the sun. you think you can keep them alive longer this time around.

“i like you the most.”

and then he receives his gift in return, that particularly sweet smile of yours he only sees when you’re so giddy.

his heart flutters wildly at your following actions.

“kiss.” you adorably demand, copying his pout earlier when he was asking for a kiss.

but unlike you who left his wish ungranted, he crosses the distance to plant a kiss on your lips. he pulls away a mere three inches, muttering to confront you. “but i thought you hated me?”

“who said that? that wasn’t me.” you feign ignorance, eyes so wide as to mimic being confused. you carefully take the flowers into your embrace, subtly exchanging it with the paper bowl you’re holding. “thank you, baby… here, do you want tteokbokki?”

he goes for the fish cake first, poking it with the stick and popping it in his mouth. you find yourself too absorbed in admiring the sunflowers one by one to sense your boyfriend staring at you, thinking to himself, you’re always worth the effort and this overpriced tteokbokki is pretty damn good.

“i turned on my location like i promised i would. did you see?” you mention without looking at him, acting laidback, still too shy when anything related to the incident is brought up.

he awkwardly smiles. no, he didn’t, unfortunately. he’s still fucking locked out of his phone.

you whimper when he pinches your cheek. “good job, baby.”

—

jungkook removes his head on your stomach to lie down beside you on the red picnic blanket. his hair touches his face and he tucks them behind his ears for the millionth time today.

“will you type my password for me?”

you take his phone without question, putting yours over your chest for the meantime. you successfully unlock it within a second, experienced fingers nimble after years of typing on the daily.

“here.” you hold it out for him without looking, picking up your own phone to continue scrolling through trending topics. however, seconds pass and the heavy weight on your hand has yet to be eased, so you wiggle it to catch his attention. “hey, it’s done.”

he gasps, gaping at you in bewilderment. “how did you do that?”

“you changed it again last night, remember? because i told you our anniversary isn’t a good idea.”

shit, right. he added a new one to the list of passwords that he uses for everything. he totally forgot about that. you’ve taken over every working brain cell that he has in his body.

“baby, this is your fault!” he groans, finally snatching away his phone. “ah- i wanted to throw it away. i didn’t know what was wrong with it. i was seriously so close to crying!”

that bad? was he about to get all his data wiped out? your poor baby. you laugh out loud at his reaction, belly aching as you roll over to wrap your arm around his waist and bury your face on his side.

“anyone can guess it if they try hard enough.”

“but that was the trick, you know? they’d think it’s too easy. they wouldn’t even consider it!”

“that doesn’t mean they won’t try it!”

“ah, i don’t care. i’m changing it back.” he stubbornly pouts, falling back on the blanket.

you want to cuddle. he feels a tug on the sleeve of his shirt and he immediately understands. he allows you to use his tattooed arm as a pillow. it envelopes you entirely when he reaches for his phone to type with both hands, and you automatically snuggle with him closer by resting your head on his chest.

“fine. do what you want, you dummy. you better not leave your phone lying around.” you mutter, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as the wind blows to softly caress your face. “and don’t take more pictures of me sleeping.”

“you’re sleeping? i thought we’re going to the mall.”

“we are. i’m letting you rest before you carry shopping bags.”

“ah- wow. thanks, baby.”

you don’t how much time passes, a minute or ten or more, but falling into a deep sleep proves to be impossible with the cacophony of sounds you’re surrounded with. you’re resting somewhere away from the crowd, but there’s still the hiphop music from a bluetooth speaker, honking of vehicles… and the main culprit, jeon jungkook scrolling through tiktok on your phone and bookmarking videos for you to watch later on. you can hear his giggles louder than his heartbeat, feel them make his body vibrate throughout.

so, you give up. you open your blurry eyes with a tired sigh, blinking to readjust to the brightness. he feels your movements, your nose brushing against his neck, and he squeezes you to his side, dutifully stroking your head to remind you that you’re safe despite being in a public place because you’re with him. you kiss his cheek to show your appreciation.

you end up harmonizing with his giggles when you do decide to join him, nearly tearing up at the sight of a cat riding a motorcycle toy on the screen. a little while later, your fascination is then stolen by fiddling with his tattooed hand — tracing the veins, the lines, the tattoos; pressing the faded heart like it’s a button connected to the beating one in his ribcage; grazing the rough areas of his palm calloused by lifting heavy weights.

and as you do so, you mull over the house by the sea you’re saving up for. how much longer will it take? should you check out more locations? do you tell jungkook? that it’s your back-up plan, a place where no one knows your name, just like how this city once was. it’s where you would run to, where you would build a new life if the time comes that this one falls apart, too. if not, if not, if not, would it be so bad to wake up beside you with an ocean view when he’s sixty?

fuck, you don’t know anymore. it shouldn’t be this hard— not anticipating the worst, but still being prepared for it. you despise being an adult.

you do it absentmindedly, taking off one of your silver rings and slipping it into each of his fingers to see where it would fit best… he knows you’re only entertaining yourself, but feeling it in his ring finger still puts a lump in his throat.

“are you proposing to me?”

“this is your right hand, silly.” you tease your stunned boyfriend, sticking your tongue out. “if you want me, come and get me.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 3 months ago

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And I'm back with Part 3 of the "Merlin accidentally conquers Camelot" au! Thank you all so much for your patience and continued support for this story! It makes me so happy to see people get excited by my silly (and occasionally delusional) au ideas!

NOTE: You can find part 1 here and part 2 here.

EDIT: And you can find part 4 here!

And without further ado, onto the new stuff!

It was rather drafty in the lesser furnished cells of the dungeons. Merlin knew this well, as he had spent many nights during his first couple of years in Camelot trying and failing to get any sleep on the cold stone floors of those cells, kept awake by the freezing chill that would sweep through the dungeons at any given moment.

Merlin also knew that Arthur had never been kept in one of those cells, even on the rare occasions that Uther had him locked up for going against his orders. Whenever Arthur had to be put in the dungeons, he had been put in the fully furnished cells, meant for prisoners who were members of noble families.

Even when they were held in the same dungeon, the nobles and the peasants were subjected to wildly different experiences.

With that in mind, Merlin stopped by Arthur's chambers (or... were they his chambers now? Merlin certainly didn't want to think about that.) to grab Arthur's favorite blanket off of his bed. It was a luxuriously soft blanket, dyed a rich Pendragon red. That blanket was fit for a king and a pain for a manservant to wash, but Merlin had always taken good care of the blanket, knowing how much Arthur liked it.

Merlin folded up the thick blanket with meticulous care, ignoring both his own trembling hands, rendered unsteady by the volatile emotions welling up in him, and Gwaine's presence behind him, silent for once. Despite Gwaine's undying loyalty and penchant for mischief landing Merlin in an even worse situation than before, he seemed to understand the solemnity of Merlin's actions and the profound sense of grief over the life he had lived once before that had been so suddenly torn away from him.

The motions of carefully folding up the blanket filled Merlin with both comforting familiarity and near-crippling sorrow. Would he ever do this again, ever provide support and comfort for Arthur again? As much as Merlin wished to stay optimistic, even if his plan to reinstate Arthur as the rightful king of Camelot succeeded, the darkest corners of his mind hissed that Arthur would never tolerate his presence again, let alone trust him, after usurping him and, in Arthur's eyes, proving everything Uther had ever said about sorcerers to be true.

Merlin's heart plummeted, nearly stopping him in his track towards the dungeon entirely, at the mere thought of what Arthur must think of him now: a treacherous, conniving sorcerer who had manipulated Arthur into becoming his friend only to betray him. Merlin blinked, banishing his tears before they could roll down his face and fall onto the blanket in his arms, and forced his feet to keep moving steadily forward. No matter what Arthur thought of him now, how deeply Merlin has unintentionally wounded his friend, or how catastrophically Merlin's world felt like it was crumbling down around him, he needed to set things right.

Merlin clung desperately to that conviction, the thrumming need to set things right again, as everything else in him wanted to curl up in a dark corner and never move again. After an eternity and yet all too soon, Merlin descended past the gates of the dungeon, where he forbade Gwaine from following him any further, down the noble cell blocks, which were filled with sleeping, but thankfully uninjured knights, and finally through the dark, damp, empty, and cold peasant cells.

He couldn't see Arthur at first, but his magic sensed that he was here. Like always, it jumped, tugging on Merlin to act, whenever Arthur was nearby, causing Merlin to pause his step in order to focus on whatever his magic was attempting to do. This time, it tugged his attention towards the unlit torches lining the walls of the cell block. Light them, his magic seemed to beg of him, our king is cold!

Merlin's immediate reaction was to stop his magic, to push it down so that no one would notice, and, after a deep breath, he did just that. As Merlin stood still, holding Arthur's blanket in his arms and cherishing what would likely be the last few seconds that he could ignore what had happened over the last day and pretend that everything was normal, he heard the voice that he'd been both yearning and dreading to hear for the past day coming from the cell at the very end of the dungeon.

"If you're waiting to sneak up on me, you'll have to try harder than that. I can hear that neither magic nor a crown have made you any more stealthy, Merlin."

Merlin flinched backwards, expecting but yet somehow still unprepared for how much vitriol and bitterness Arthur hissed out his name with. He had heard Arthur yell out his name in variety of tones over the years, ranging from annoyed to bemused to downright furious, but he had never heard his name pass from Arthur's lips like this, spat out from his mouth like it was poisonous and vile. It caused so much hurt to well up in Merlin's chest that he felt it like a bruising punch, causing him to wince in pain, still hiding where Arthur could not see him.

As Merlin stood silently, only a few steps away from Arthur's cell and facing Arthur's well-deserved fury, and tried to desperately blink away the tears gathering in his eyes, his magic abruptly tugged his attention towards the torches again, more insistent this time. Letting out a stuttering breath, Merlin obliged with his magic's request this time, and the torches lining the walls burst into bright, golden flames in an instant, filling the cells with a merry warmth that felt entirely out of place.

Merlin heard a sharp gasp coming from Arthur's cells as soon as the torches lit up by themselves and winced. Right, Arthur was fresh off of Merlin's betrayal, so he was probably pretty jumpy, especially around magic.

Merlin's guilt rose alongside his frustration. Everything he does with his magic, he does it for Arthur, and yet every single damned time it backfires on him and somehow hurt Arthur! A spell meant to heal his father kills the king instead. A battle waged to ensure his continued reign steals his sovereignty instead. And lit torches meant to provide him with warmth and comfort scares him instead!

But before even more guilt could build up inside of him, Merlin heard Arthur's voice once more.

"I won't be scared by a coward of a sorcerer who would steal everything from the man he claimed to serve! Or is the great Emrys too important to even face the fool he tricked into believing that he was his friend?"

Before Merlin's mind could even process Arthur's words, his feet were already carrying him to the end of the hallway, right to the front of Arthur's cell. He needed to prove Arthur wrong here, their years of friendship weren't a lie or a trick, Arthur needed to believe that! Too much of Merlin's life, his very soul, was woven into his bond with Arthur, he couldn't let Arthur have any doubt that their bond was even real!

As he finally arrived at the door to the cell that held Arthur, Merlin's heart stuttered again, this time with grief. Based on the ferocity in his voice, Merlin had expected to see Arthur pressed up against the bars, ready to battle his perceived opponent. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of Arthur, sitting alone on the dirty stone floor, his face wearing the same dejected and defeated look it had just days earlier, after Morgana had taken the citadel and Arthur doubted his own ability to rule his people. The only difference was that the lost look in Arthur's eyes from before was gone, replaced by a scornful glare that had Merlin feeling like he was the scum of the earth.

Merlin opened his mouth, ready to apologize, plead for forgiveness, whatever it took to just stop Arthur from looking at him like that, like Merlin was his enemy, but no words could form in his mouth, as too many emotions were welling up in his chest that it closed off his throat entirely. Merlin drew in a deep, fortifying breath, purposefully avoiding eye contact with a still-glaring Arthur the entire time. Once he felt like he had his feelings even marginally under some tenuous control, he finally met Arthur's gaze and held out the blanket like a pathetic peace offering.

"I brought you your blanket. I know it gets cold down here."

Merlin was rather proud that his voice only wavered slightly, not giving an indication of how disastrously close he was to breaking down into tears in the middle of the dungeons. Arthur merely stared at him for a moment, bewilderment appearing on his face for a few seconds before it was quickly wiped away by angry sneer.

"I don't accept gifts from the likes of you, sorcerer! It's probably cursed or enchanted to kill me so that you can finally get me out of your way for good!"

"No!"

The blanket fell to the floor as Merlin grasped the bars of the cell with both hands and pulled himself as close as he could to Arthur, who had flinched back at Merlin's outburst. His magic flared again, wanting to break down this barrier between them so that he could get closer to Arthur, but he denied its request, knowing that such an action would only agitate Arthur even more.

"Arthur, please, I never meant for any of this to happen! You must believe me! I only wanted to for Camelot to be safe from Morgana and for you to retake the throne! I only want to secure your reign, not end it!"

That, it seemed, finally got a reaction out of Arthur, but it wasn't the one Merlin was hoping for. Arthur finally stood up from the floor and stormed over to the cell door, getting close to Merlin, but just out of reach.

"And why on earth should I trust a word you say?! You've done nothing but lie to me for years, even when I gave you my complete trust! I thought you were my closest friend, the one person in my life who would never betray me, but as it turns out, I never even knew your real name, much less where your true loyalties lie!"

Merlin's face fell at Arthur's accusations, knowing that he was, in some ways, completely right in them. Still, he met Arthur's accusing glare with as much honesty as he could. After all that his own actions had taken from Arthur, he owed him the truth at the very least. Merlin spoke again, trying to muster up a calm, soothing tone despite his strong emotions.

"I know that you don't have much reason to trust what I say now, but I will do all that I can take make this right. I was born with magic, yes, but I was born this way for a purpose, and that purpose is you, Arthur. I am Emrys, destined to be the guardian of the Once and Future King, who will rule over the greatest kingdom history has ever known and bring peace the likes of which has never been seen throughout the land."

Merlin could see the moment of realization on Arthur's face as he put together who exactly the Once and Future King was, his eyes going wide with shock. Despite the situation, Merlin has just a bit of a smile on his face as he reminisced on fond memories.

"When I first met you, I just couldn't understand how such a prattish clotpole could ever be a king of legend, but the longer I stayed by your side, the more I could see the king that you were destined to become. A great man, a great leader, who will always stand up to protect his people, even if it means putting himself in danger."

Merlin's speech trailed off as he smiled gently at Arthur, trying desperately to give him reason to believe Merlin, to believe in the prophecy that tied them together, and, above all, to believe in himself.

To Merlin's surprise, he could see Arthur confusion melting into... something. It looked like something along the lines of hope or awe, which gave Merlin hope in return. But just as quickly as it was there, Arthur's expression shifted again to a frustrated anger.

"Even if what you're saying isn't some trick, your little bedtime story is wrong anyways! I can't be the Once and Future King if I'm not even a king in the first place!"

Merlin sighed deeply, knowing that they'd get to this point eventually. He had a plan, but would Arthur ever agree to it?

"I've tried! I tried to simply order the council to make you king again, but they won't do it! Geoffrey stopped me with some old laws that Bruta wrote! He said that I can't abdicate the throne to you because you're no longer legally a nobleman."

Arthur eyes widened frantically at the mention of Bruta's laws, his breathing picking up with panic. He backed up from the bars of the cell and began pacing around.

"Bruta's code, damn it, I forgot that they applied in these situations! Wait..."

His eyes snapped back to Merlin, looking red-rimmed and on the verge of tears. His voice, which was so full of fire mere seconds ago, now sounded hollow. Merlin's hope wilted upon seeing Arthur like this, and his magic flared again, still wanting to destroy the barrier between them.

"This means that the Pendragon house is no longer recognized, doesn't it?"

Merlin could only nod, unsure of what he could do to comfort Arthur. At Merlin's confirmation, Arthur took a shaky breath, trying to collect himself from the inner turmoil that he was surely experiencing.

"Everything... I've lost everything."

Merlin gave Arthur what he hoped was his most comforting smile, but it didn't do much for Arthur's hopeless disposition. After a small sigh, Merlin spoke again in a soft, comforting voice.

"Arthur, all is not lost. I have a way to make you king again! We just have to make you a noble again, and then I can abdicate the throne to you! And luckily for both of us, there's an easy way to make a peasant a nobleman quickly! And you should know, you wrote it into the laws yourself!"

Arthur blinked at him, not comprehending what Merlin had said for a couple seconds, before a sliver of hope showed on his face. However, as soon as it was there, it was gone again, once more replaced by anger and betrayal. Arthur quickly stormed over to the cell door, this time reaching the door itself and wrapping his hands around the bars so that he could yell in Merlin's face.

"I knew it! This was a trick!"

"What are you talking about? How would me knighting you and then giving you back your throne be a trick?!"

"You would have me swear on oath of fealty to you, which would legally, and for all I know magically, put me under your command! This was all just another plot to control me, wasn't it?!"

"Oh come on, you wouldn't have to mean it when you take the oath! You'd just have to say the words and then let me abdicate!"

"So now sacred oaths of loyalty are nothing but empty words to you?!"

"Gods, you really can't make anything easy for the both of us, can you, you prat! I'm just trying to give you your crown back!"

"You would have me disrespect the sacred oaths of knighthood! I would never swear an oath of fealty to you! It is a sacred bond of trust, which is apparently something that you know nothing about, Emrys!"

Merlin flinched back, still unused to Arthur saying the name given to him by the druids, much less hissed out in anger. Merlin backed away from the cell door and took a deep breath, trying to find some solution to this mess.

"So, I take it that you would not accept a knighthood from me?"

"Never."

Merlin sighed again, his eyes drifting around the dungeons as he tried to think of a different way to make Arthur a nobleman. Eventually, his eyes drifted back towards Arthur, who was still holding onto the bars of the cell door. As Merlin looked at Arthur, pondering any solution that he could possibly come up with, a metallic flash caught Merlin's eye, drawing it to Arthur's left hand.

There, the torchlight was reflecting off of Ygraine's ring, the one that Arthur rarely ever took off. Merlin was glad that Arthur still had it with him after everything that had just happened to provide some comfort, but it still didn't present Merlin with any solutions...

Wait.

Oh no.

Swallowing thickly, Merlin called out to Arthur again.

"Arthur, do you know of any, any other ways to elevate a peasant to the status of a noble?"

"I'm afraid not. Me granting knighthoods to peasants was the first legal opportunity for peasants to elevate their stations. There is no other way."

Merlin closed his eyes and tried to hold back his frustration. He wouldn't have to resort to that, surely?

"And you've really thought this through, Arthur? If you don't accept a knighthood, I don't think that there's any other way that I can legally make you a noble again, much less the king. Are you really prepared to go the rest of your life as a peasant with no title, no lands, no riches, nothing?"

Merlin could see that his words gave Arthur pause, forcing him to at least reconsider Merlin's offer. Merlin internally pleaded with Arthur to please don't be an idiot, just take the offer!

Finally, Arthur seemed to have reached his decision, as he glared at Merlin once again with conviction.

"I might be forced to live out my days as a peasant, but at least I'll be a peasant with my honor and integrity intact."

Merlin was, at this point, sorely tempted to bash his head into the stone wall behind him. Why, why did this clotpole have to make his life so difficult?!

Merlin gave a heavy sigh as he nodded, accepting Arthur's decision. Arthur looked rather smug about Merlin conceding to him, which he wouldn't be feeling if he knew exactly what Merlin had in mind as his contingency plan.

"Very well then. You've made it clear that you won't willingly take this one opportunity for me to give you your throne back. But make no mistake, you are the Once and Future King. This is your destiny, and I will see that it comes to pass, no matter what I have to do. I know that it might be unfair, but I only ask that you forgive me for what I do next. Please remember, everything I do, I do for you and the kingdom that you're destined to build."

Arthur's expression had gone from smug to confused to concerned very quickly, but Merlin didn't acknowledge the slight fear that had appeared on Arthur's face. Instead, he carefully pushed Arthur's blanket, which had been lying at the foot of the cell door, through the bars, ensuring that Arthur could grab it.

After that, Merlin turned on his heel and walked out of the now silent dungeons, his footsteps sounding authoritative and ominous as they echoed off of the stone walls.

Despite his measured footsteps, Merlin's mind was moving at sprinter's pace, trying to plan out everything that would need to be done in the coming days. The first thing that he definitely needed to do was let the steward know that he needed to plan a wedding on short notice.

After all, it wasn't uncommon for conquerors to marry their war prizes.

I hope you all enjoyed this continuation! Were you right in your guess as to what Merlin had in mind at the end of part 2? Please let me know if you'd like another part of this story!

I'll try to tag everyone who asked for a part 3 here. Thank you all for your support!

@magic-mushroomss @miyriu @whole-buncha-snakess @achillesuwu @aerismoon

@tidalwavesandthunderstorms @marki9 @isaidno @retro-wallflower @samwinjester

@lascienzadellafantasia @sugar-coated-prat-dragon @theoldfroglady @ryeallytired @mind-of-a-crow

@whynotreinventmyselfeveryday @likeapaperplane @odinjm @orliththedragon @aglmry

@caraspud @aostrek-236 @justaz @slippysalt @coffee-shop-gay

@the-king-and-the-druidess @theroundbartable @fanfic-library-for-me @linotheghost @scuttlingsleipnir

@guiltyscarlet

And, as always, than you for reading through my ramblings! :D

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merlin au #merthur #merlin prompts #king merlin

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nanaminokanojo · 6 months ago

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ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | Sukuna X You | CHAPTER INDEX I /PROLOGUE (Part 1-68)

-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur

CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters (uraume, gojo, geto, shoko, nanami, choso, maki, nobara, mei-mei, etc.)

AKI’S NOTES: Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated, and I actively respond to comments as well as Asks. Also, if you’re interested, I will include you in the tag list. Just message me through whatever avenue you’re most comfortable with. Happy reading!

MASTERLIST

A/N: Yup. Intrigue and a video right off the bat.

CHAPTERS: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45

46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60

61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | CHAPTER INDEX II

ADDITIONAL NOTES: i will be using pics and other media which would fit situations and make the smau-ness of this piece a little more realistic and entertaining when i believe it’s appropriate/fitting to the plot (as i've done with my other smau). having said that, with regard to inclusivity, i just want to put it out there that they will not necessarily be aimed as the exact descriptions to fit a supposedly generic reader nor will they be representative of a specific race or color. it’s all for the simple fact of media availability, for funsies and the fact that i don’t exclusively write in consideration of those aspects when using reader-insert characters unless i specify it. thank you for understanding.

TAG LIST: CLOSED

PLEASE READ: If you wanna be included in the tag list, please make sure that your “Exclude __(tumblr username)__ from Tumblr search and recommendations” setting is OFF so I can actually tag you guys and you'll get notifs when I update. Thank you very much.

Here's a reference for the instructions from domainofmarie. Thank you very much, my friend. This is very helpful.

A/N: I have another version of this story somewhere on the internet with different characters, and I thought, why not make it a Sukuna smau. So excited for this! This'll probably come out this weekend lol or the next if push comes to shove.

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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seokgyuu · 11 months ago

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There is nothing worse than wanting what isn't yours. Sunghoon is your roommates boyfriend. He is also the one thing occupying your mind ever since you first laid eyes on him. And never would you have guessed that the feeling is mutual.

Pairing: Sunghoon x Fem!Reader (minor Jake x Fem!Reader)

Contents: Cheating!! I don't condone cheating in real life, but decided to have this be the main theme of this story, work of fiction!! be warned!, jake plays a big part, calls reader pretty girl, roommate is named yeri but pls don't picture rv yeri thats my baby ok? SMUT! MDNI

Smut Warnings: making out, dirty talk, usage of the words "sweetheart, "baby", "princess", "good girl", fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it friends), creampie

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i know i said my first ever enha fic would be the heejayhoon fic but... here we are now. sunghoon has been on my mind too much and he needed to be let out, ok!! pls don't cheat on your partner ok, sunghoon is not doing things correctly here but oh well, what can we do. thanks for reading <3

It’s not fair, you think. How she gets to sit on his lap, how she gets to run her fingers through his hair. How right now his hands are on her hips and how he holds her so close to his body, his eyes following her every word. You wish you could tell him. How she has been seeing this other guy behind his back. Nothing physical, you think, but still. You wish you could go up and tell him she’s not being entirely faithful. But you can’t. It’s not fair.

She says something and he laughs and you finally turn away to grab the drink Jungwon has poured you ages ago. He is too busy talking to a girl you don’t know to notice you haven’t even taken the cup. You bring it to your lips, letting all of its contents run down your throat in one go. Maybe getting drunk is the only way you’ll survive this stupid ass party you didn’t even want to host in the first place.

“Slow down, pretty girl,” you suddenly hear a voice next to you and you almost choke. It’s Jake Sim, his best friend.

“What?” You put the cup back down and look at him with one brow raised. Jake chuckles, pushing a hand through his soft looking black hair.

“There is enough alcohol for everyone, no need to drown it all in one go.”

“Maybe I want to.” You challenge him with your eyes and he takes the hint, smirking as he grabs the bottle of vodka that's standing on the counter.

“I got you, pretty girl.”

Talking to Jake is fun. He is fun. He is also handsy. After five minutes of talking, he has his hand on your thigh, looking at you attentively as you tell him some story about you in middle school. You’re feeling hot all over, but it’s not because of Jake or his hand or the way he looks at you. It’s because of how he is looking over.

Park Sunghoon. Still with your horrible roommate on his lap, with his hands still on her waist, with her mouth so close to his ear you’re sure she’s saying the dirtiest things to him right now. But he is looking at you.

“How do you know Yeri?” Jake asks then, bringing you back.

“She’s my roommate,” you explain and take a sip from the drink Jake mixed for you earlier. His eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh! You are her roommate!” He grins, “I knew you looked familiar.”

“I did?” You wouldn’t have bet on Jake knowing who you are as much as you wouldn’t have bet on Sunghoon visibly being bothered by you talking to his best friend.

“Yeah. Sunghoon mentioned you before. Showed me your insta.” You can’t hide the surprise on your face.

“He did?” Jake chuckles again, leaning forward, his mouth almost as close to your ear as Yeri’s to Sunghoon’s.

“He mentioned you’re not that talkative. He also mentioned you like to look at him. And you know what I think? He enjoys it when you do.”

You hate your treacherous heart for beginning to beat quicker. Why would Jake say that? Wasn’t he hitting on you? Mentioning what Sunghoon liked or didn’t like - wasn’t this… counterproductive?

“Why- why would you tell me this?” You finally ask back, looking at Jake with wide eyes.

“Because,” he begins to explain, his hand wandering further up your thigh, making you gasp, “because I know that he likes looking at you, too. And I never liked Yeri. You seem much nicer than her.”

His breath is still hitting your neck. His touch is soft and while it should probably feel more sensual, it doesn’t. You realize his plan, realize that he is doing this because he knows Sunghoon is watching and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“If you let me kiss you now, he will for sure come find you later.”

In retrospect - maybe it was a bit naive of you to just let him kiss you. Or well, for you to kiss him as a response. He could have played with you, could have used the knowledge that you wanted Sunghoon to his benefit. Something about him, though, made you feel like you could trust him.

Jake is a good kisser. He knows where to put his hands and how to suck on your tongue in a way that doesn't feel like too much. He knows how to turn his head and how to make you crave more, knows exactly how to make it look believable - so believable, Sunghoon can’t concentrate on Yeri on his lap anymore, on how she kisses his neck and whispers things into his ear he’d normally eat up, things he would normally be excited to hear.

It’s not fair, he thinks. He’s not being fair. This has been going on for way too long. At this point he should just break up with Yeri as he had planned months ago. But he’s just a weak man and Yeri knows him too well. She’s not a good girlfriend and he’s not a good boyfriend, but never would he ever cheat on her. Or so he would like to think. Because right now? Looking at you on the other side of the room, your hands buried in Jake’s hair and his hand on your thigh, so far up it’s almost underneath your god forsaken skirt - he wants nothing more than to drag you into your bedroom and show you he’s better than Jake.

The thought scares him enough to stop Yeri in her motion and excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

“Wanna meet me in my room in five?” Yeri giggles in his ear when she’s off his lap and Sunghoon tightens his jaw.

“I think you should entertain your guests a little more before you leave to your bedroom.”

Yeri pouts up at him when he gets up.

“But Hoonie…,” he knows her antics, he knows them well enough, probably better than anyone. What normally would have worked right away, doesn’t this time. He shakes his head and just walks off, making a pit-stop in the kitchen to get some more alcohol in his system to survive the night.

Sunghoon knew it was bad, he was bad, when he walked into you in nothing but a short towel wrapped around your body two months ago. It had been totally out of his control - the way his body reacted to see you in your almost naked form, water dripping from your hair onto your shoulder, over your collarbone and down your chest. You suddenly became so much more than before. He had found you cute before. Cute and funny and nice. Never had he seen you as anything but his girlfriend’s roommate. You and Yeri weren’t even really friends, more like in need of each other. Yeri’s old roommate had moved in with her girlfriend and so the room became vacant. You were the first one to apply and stayed. This had been six months ago.

And now? Now Sunghoon feels more drawn to you than he had ever felt to Yeri and it drives him crazy. That is why he is drowning two shots of tequila in the kitchen with Jay and Jungwon and that is why he practically hides behind the door frame to watch you and Jake make out. He knows it’s not fair to be jealous. He also knows he probably shouldn’t watch the way Jake is kissing you, the way you are kissing Jake, because all it does is make his body burn.

He finds himself wondering what you taste like. If you like the way Jake tastes. He’s pathetic. Pathetic and a horrible boyfriend. Sighing, he finally moves to the bathroom, glad to see there is only a small line he has to wait in. Crossing his arms, he leans against the wall, trying to forget the visual of you and Jake but failing miserably. Maybe he should have told Yeri to meet him in her bedroom after all. He could have taken his pathetic jealousy out on her. Just fuck her until he forgot. Imagine it was you instead.

“Jesus, look at those two,” a voice rips Sunghoon out of his thoughts and he turns his head - immediately regretting his decision.

It’s Jake and you and he has you pushed against the wall right next to the kitchen, kissing you hard and you kiss him back, hands on his nape and Sunghoon feels like the universe is out to get him tonight. Why the fuck would you follow him outside? Why couldn’t you have stayed in the living room, why-

He stands up straight again.

You followed him outside. You are making sure he sees you.

Sunghoon doesn’t have a coherent thought left in his brain. His legs carry him to you and Jake, squeezing through people he doesn’t know and then he is right there, his hand landing on Jake’s shoulder, squeezing hard.

“Heeseung is looking for you.” He says with a blank face and Jake parts from you, needing a few seconds to realize what’s going on. The moment he recognizes Sunghoon, he has to try really hard to suppress a smug smile.

“And that can’t wait? Kinda busy here, mate,” Jake raises his brows. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens once more.

“No. Said it was urgent. Better look for him.”

The apartment isn’t that big. There is a kitchen that’s separate from the living room that does house a good number of people. Jake has just seen Heeseung there. Talking to some red-head and most definitely not looking for him. Grinning after all, Jake nods and turns his head to wink at you quickly before finally taking off.

“So,” Sunghoon starts, eyes traveling from the back of Jake’s head to you, “Jake, huh?”

There is no chance in hell you can respond to him. In all honesty, you hadn’t really believed Jake’s plan would work out. Sunghoon getting jealous and stopping you from making out? When Yeri is right there? It seemed absurd. Apparently, though, it wasn’t.

The surprise on your face is clear as day and Sunghoon scoffs, shaking his head.

“Is this how you want to get my attention, sweetheart? By making out with my best friend?”

Sweetheart.

“I- I didn’t-,” it’s no use. Both of you know exactly why you had kissed Jake, why you had followed him into the hallway.

“You didn’t, hm? Didn’t mean to kiss Jake? Didn’t kiss him just to make me jealous? Or what?”

He’s so close to you now. Too close, if you think about it. What if someone sees you? Sees your roommate's boyfriend this close to you at her own party?

“Sunghoon, I really don’t-,” you try again, but this time Sunghoon’s hands grab your waist as he pushes himself closer to you, your breath hatching in your throat.

“Don’t lie to me, princess. I can see it in your eyes. Fuck, I can see it in your eyes everytime I’m around. You want me, just admit it.”

Your skin is burning where he is touching you. His eyes are staring into yours and you wish with all of your being he wasn’t who he was.

“I can’t. I- I don’t want you, Sunghoon, you’re not mine to want.”

Your words reach his ears but they don’t make sense even though they should. Looking around, Sunghoon grabs your wrist and drags you to your bedroom, holding out his hand.

“Keys, I know you locked it.”

You stare up at him, lips trembling, knowing better than to give in.

“Sunghoon-,”

“Give me the keys, Y/N.”

The way he says your name has your knees growing weak. Swallowing, you let your hand slip into the pocket of your sweater, handing the waiting man what he had asked for.

Without a word Sunghoon unlocks and opens the door, pulling you inside behind him, hoping to god no one paid you any mind. Once the door behind you shuts, you feel your back hit it, feel Sunghoon’s breath on your face, his hands back on your hips, the look in his eyes wild and angry and so full of want it almost causes you to whimper.

“Do you want me to be yours to want?” He asks with a raspy voice and his fingers dig into your flesh.

“Does it matter?” You reply quietly.

“If it didn’t I wouldn’t ask you, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that.” You immediately say, your thighs pressing together traitorously. Sunghoon catches your movement and he lets out a breath.

“Why? You like it?”

He is so close to you. So fucking close. You could count every single mole and freckle on his face if only you had the strength to look at him for longer than two seconds.

“Sunghoon, please. Y-You’re Yeri’s boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t stop you from staring at me whenever I’m here, does it?” It’s wrong. He knows it and so do you, but it just feels too good. His hand moves from your waist down, sliding in between your thighs to part them. You gasp, eyes widening when you feel his fingers trailing up your thigh.

“I- I am not- I would never, Sunghoon!”

It’s a light touch, but it’s right there on that one sensitive spot on your inner thigh. Sunghoon bathes in the way you look, the way your breath hitches when he touches you.

“Yeah? What was that, baby?”

“‘Am not staring at you!” You try to shoot daggers at him through your eyes, but all that reaches him are silent pleas to touch you more.

“Is that right?” Sunghoon leans forward, his free hand now cupping your cheek, thumb softly caressing your face.

“Not staring at me, hm? Not wishing it was you on my lap instead of Yeri, no?”

“No! Of course not, I-,” you gasp again when he moves his hand further up.

“Stop lying to me, baby. Please, I need you to be honest, need you to tell me how much you want me.”

His voice is deep and his begging almost brings you to your knees. While the rational part of you tells you to push him away, the irrational part tells you to stay right where you are.

“I- what about Yeri, Sunghoon?” Your hands find place on his chest and he bites down on his lip, softly shaking his head.

“I’ll break up with her. I promise, princess. I just need you to tell me exactly what’s on your mind, please?”

I’ll break up with her, the words echo in your head over and over. You should think about this more, you know you should. And yet…

“You- You are, Hoon, you are always on my mind.”

“Fuck, princess, tell me more. What am I doing in your mind?” His nose touches yours and the hand that was on your cheek moves down to your neck, a shiver running down your spine.

“Doing everything you do to her… to me.”

“Keep going.” His instructions are clear, but with the way his hand has now reached your throbbing core, with how his fingers glide over your soaked panties, feeling just how fucking wet you are for him, you don’t even know how to say your own name.

“You kiss me, not her. You… touch me, not her.” The words stumble out of your mouth and Sunghoon breathes them in, his cock hard against his jeans as he lets his fingers push your panties to the side, feeling your warm and soft folds right then against his skin. He groans, head falling onto your shoulder.

“Shit, you’re so wet, baby, fuck.”

You whimper when he finds your clit with his thumb and you would have landed on the floor, if his arm hadn’t wrapped around you just then.

“Sunghoon…,” you breathe out, but he just shakes his head, kissing the side of your neck.

“Am I touching you like this in your mind, baby? Am I making you this wet?”

As if to accompany his words, he pushes one finger into you and you cry out, hands fisting the material of his shirt.

“G-god, yes, just- just like this, Hoon.”

He’s dizzy, you are making him dizzy. Your smell and the way you feel around his finger, your voice dripping in pure lust, it’s about to drive him fucking insane.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles before finally kissing you, his lips devouring you like starved man, a moan escaping and landing in your mouth. Every bit of composure that might have been there a second ago is now gone. Your arms wrap around his neck as he continues pushing his finger in and out of you, your small whimpers getting caught by his busy lips.

Sunghoon thinks you’re like a drug. Now that he’s got a taste, he can’t stop, he can’t get enough. He licks into your mouth to taste more of you, pushes another finger into your sopping pussy to prep you for his cock that is aching behind his pants. There isn’t much time, he knows someone will notice if he’s gone too long.

“Been dreaming of this, Hoon, need you so, so bad.”

Your whispered words are like a prayer to Sunghoon. He moans against your lips and wraps both of his arms around you now, your cunt feeling so empty without him all of a sudden. You cry out when he puts you down on your bed and kisses you again, his hands busy getting your panties off your body, leaving your pussy bare for him to dive back into with his fingers.

He kisses you again, his tongue circling around yours, his lips hot and red and perfect against your own. Nimble fingers slip underneath his shirt, caressing his soft skin as your hips move against him, his fingers even deeper inside of you at this angle. You whine into his mouth and Sunghoon bites down on your bottom lip.

“Gotta have you, baby, gotta fuck you, yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

He rids himself of his jeans and boxers, pushing them down enough for his cock to spring free, his eyes taking in your body, your face, the way you look wanting him. How many nights had he wished it was you underneath him? Cursing under his breath, he pushes you further up the bed, your head landing on the pillow behind you, gaze wide as you watch him lean forward, his soft brown hair falling into his face. He doesn’t waste any time, pumping his cock a few times before lining himself up with you, easily slipping into your wet heat.

“Kiss me.” You whisper and Sunghoon’s eyes fly open, sinking into your further as he leans forward, his lips catching yours in a sensual kiss. Your legs almost automatically wrap around his waist, helping him to completely sink into you. Moans are exchanged between the two of you and your fingers grab Sunghoon’s hair, pulling his head back so you can kiss his neck. He hisses, hips beginning to thrust into you, your tongue lapping at his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect around me, sweetheart. Never had a pussy better than this.”

He grabs your hand and pins it over your head, eyes wild as he stares down at you, his hips beginning to move mercilessly, cock hitting you right where you need him to. It takes everything in you not to scream for him, your eyes rolling back and your back arching, wanting more of him, wanting all of him.

“Hoon, am already close,” you admit with your face hot and Sunghoon moans once again, letting his head fall down, back between your shoulder and neck, kissing your skin.

“Yes, baby, want you to cum on my cock.”

It’s true. He doesn’t think he has ever wanted something as much as this. His words are like a spell, your pussy clenching over and over again as your orgasm erupts you, making you cry out in pleasure, your hands flying to the his back, hips moving rapidly against him, basically fucking yourself on his cock through your orgasm and Sunghoon feels like he is about to pass out.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me, fuck.”

He kisses you again, lust and want mixed with desperation as he continues to chase his high, twitching inside of you, your walls tight and warm around his hard cock. If he could, he would fuck you for another six hours, but he knows tonight is not the night for that. Fuck, he’s gonna need to get you a new apartment, he needs to get you as far away from Yeri as he possibly can.

“Want you to cum in me, Sunghoon, please, make me yours, fill me up, please.”

Black and white dots appear in front of his eyes when you whisper these words in his ear and he can’t do anything but have your wish be his command. He curses your name once, twice - then he cums, thick stripes of white filling your awaiting pussy, the feeling of being filled by him getting you over the edge a second time. You can’t help the loud moan this time, can’t help clawing your fingers into his skin underneath his shirt. He rides out his orgasm and your legs fall off his waist, overstimulation hitting you and making you whine, Hoon kissing your neck and your cheek and finally your lips as he pulls out, quick to part from you again to look at how pretty your pussy looks filled with his release.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I could look at this forever,” he mumbles, sinking down to push two fingers inside you, stuffing his cum back in. You gasp in surprise.

“Park Sunghoon!”

He laughs, looking up at you with his bangs hanging in his face.

“Need to make sure it stays where it belongs, princess.”

Sunghoon breaks up with Yeri the next day. He takes you apartment hunting an hour later. Safe to say Jake’s plan worked out. And he won’t ever let you hear the end of it.

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enha fanfiction #enha smut #sunghoon fanfiction #ksmutsociety #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #sunghoon au #sunghoon imagine #enhypen au #enhypen imagine #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

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König masterlist

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader {Mythical AU, dubcon smut, 18+}

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass.

Part 1 | Part 2

Christian Woman {Romance, fluff, smut, 18+}

König x Nun!Reader | This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting. You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores, and the relationship turns out to be far from platonic. König can’t even keep his eyes in check.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Possession {Dark fic, angst, smut, 18+}

König x Maid!Reader | Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise.

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT {Historical AU. Roman Auxilia soldier!König with his spoils of war gf. Slow burn, romance, fluff, eventual smut, 18+}

König x F!Reader | The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Valkyrie {Dubcon, smut, flangst, romance, 18+}

Virgin!König x F!OC | The situation had indeed taken a turn into a sick fairytale. Like, come on. Valkyrie and König? Some stupid hippie would've loved that: how it was meant to be, destined, even, that the two of them had met. That she was a damsel in distress, and he was here to save her from the ring of fire.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Just Friends {Dark romance, smut, violence, heavy angst, 18+ WARNING: Not safe or sane}

König x F!Reader | She's far too kind, that's what people always say, but she's also neck-deep into this goddamn creep at this point to do anything about it. The building is full of muscled men, men who are decent, and she chooses this… gift-bearing perv to crush on. In her judgment system, she's basically asking for it at this point.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Even Demons are Lonely {Angst, pining, König POV, yandere, 18+} He comes back after a mission {Fluff, mild smut, angst, yandere, 18+} Just Friends playlist (by @evil-squint-etc) Art for Just Friends by @shizukaay0

#könig x f reader #könig x you #könig x reader #könig smut #yandere könig #just friends fic #könig fanfiction #konig x you #konig x reader #konig x female reader #könig x female reader #cod fanfic #könig x female oc #könig x oc

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neteyamsilly · 2 years ago

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

��Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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