#while you mistake his brother for being him?

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

“a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane” sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“never thought you’d ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

[elllisaaa]

SHAMELESS - Y. JEONGIN

KINKTOBER DAY 24 - MUTUAL MASTURBATION

SUMMARY : you always had a soft spot for your best friend's little brother, maybe a little crush if you were honest. however, learning that he was still a virgin despite being this hot, you take it into your own hands to show him how it should be done.

-> pairing : best friend's brother!jeongin x fem!reader

-> words count : 4.2k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sub!jeongin x dom!reader, virign!jeongin & experienced!reader, slight age gap (reader is a bit older than jeongin), alcohol consumption, fingering, handjob, breast play, mutual masturbation, making out, lingerie, teasing, begging, dry humping, marked, dirty talk, use of 'good boy', oral (f. receiving)

+ the way i'm depicting jeongin does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | kinktober 2024

All your friends knew you had a soft spot for Jeongin, even his own sister knew. You didn’t exactly know what it was in him that made it impossible for you to let him go, but your attraction was undeniable. At first, it was truly innocent - you just invited him sometimes to hang out for a while with you and your friends because the poor boy would often spend his weekends alone, and it wasn’t that bad to take him away from his games so he could share a drink or two with you before you left for the club. 

“- Your turn Jeongin, truth or dare ?

- Uh, I don’t know, truth ?”

The poor boy was always a little awkward when he didn’t have his first drink, but once he had loosened up, it was easier to have him admit some things and he actually enjoyed these little hangouts. You were getting ready with his sister and one of your other friends, sitting in the living room with bottles of alcohol and juice opened and ready to make a new drink at any moment. As you focused on doing both wings of your eyeliner the same way, your friend asked her a question. 

“- When was the last time you had sex ?

- Ew, I don’t want to know that ! He’s my brother.

- Come on, you’re not fun ! Go away then, I wanna know. And I’m sure Y/N wants to know too.”

You rolled your eyes at her, and you avoided everyone else's gaze as focused on your own face reflecting through the mirror of your eyeshadow palette as you put the finishing touches to your makeup. The slight buzz of alcohol was already getting to you, and you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you would have normally been. But you could still sense Jeongin’s eyes on you, as if he was trying to understand what your friend meant. His sister covered her ears with her hands while he answered. 

“- Well, I- I’ve never had sex, actually so…

- What ? You’re still a virgin ? No way.

- This is too much !”

Your best friend left the room to go get dressed, but you couldn’t believe what you had just heard either. You had always assumed that he must’ve had at least one or two girlfriends, but you weren't expecting this. Jeongin’s cheeks had taken a deep shade of red - which was cute, you had to admit - as he shrugged, trying to keep some kind of composure and acting nonchalant while he took another sip of his drink.

“- I don’t understand why it is so shocking. 

- Well, look at yourself in a mirror. You might be my friend’s brother but I know a fine man when I see one. Right, Y/N ?

- Uh, yeah, she’s right.”

Your gaze lingered on Jeongin longer than it should have, but it seemed like he couldn’t detach his gaze from you either. You stayed looking at each other for a few seconds, before you broke eye contact with him. The way your heart was beating in your chest, and the way some kind of well-known heat was rising through your body definitely wasn’t something you should be feeling for your best friend’s brother. Soon enough, the subject switched to something else, and you were left alone with your thoughts and the feeling that Jeongin eyes couldn’t leave your figure as you picked up your things to put them in your purse before heading out. Everytime you would look back his way, he would simply avoid your gaze and focus on his phone screen or his drink instead, pretending that he wasn’t devouring you with his eyes a few seconds ago. 

At least, your clubbing session did make you feel good, the alcohol helping you relax and the loud music pushing every parasite's thoughts out of your mind for a moment. By the time you went back to your best friend’s apartment, it was already way past 5 in the morning. Your two friends went to crash in bed immediately, giggling and loudly talking nonsense. The sound of the door of her bedroom closing shut behind them drowned out their laughs as you smiled to yourself while getting out of your high-heeled boots. You could still feel the agreable rush of all the drinks you had but you were conscious enough to think about drinking a glass of water before going to bed too. As you were about to head to the bathroom to take off your makeup, you almost ran into Jeongin who was walking out of his own room, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. You giggled as you steadied yourself by grabbing his shoulders. 

“- Oops ! Sorry, didn’t see you !”

Jeongin's right arm slid down to your waist to keep you straight up. Truthfully, you didn’t really need it to stand on your feet, you were not that drunk. But you let his hand rest against the naked skin of the small of your back that your crop top revealed, his own warm skin heating up your hot one even more and making another sort of warmth run through your veins. 

“- It’s okay. Are you alright ? Did you have fun ?”

You nodded with a big smile stretching out your face to both questions, missing the way Jeongin’s eyes went down to your cleavage and then back up to your face every two seconds. He was trying so hard to not seem like a pervert, but the way you were allowing him to be so close to you, to touch you in a way that was way too intimate, that was driving him crazy. 

“- So much fun ! But I don’t understand how you can still be a virgin…”

The sudden change of subject caught him out of guard, and his cheeks took that same shade of red once more, and again, you couldn’t help but think that he was really cute when he was embarrassed like that. Would he have that same look on his face if you dropped down to your knees and sucked him off, right now ? Would he look at you the same way if you told him everything he had you fantasizing about ?

“- I- I don’t know, it’s just how things are ? Girls aren’t really interested in losers like me you know…”

You frowned as you considered his words. A loser ? Jeongin ? Sure, he spent a lot of time playing video games. But he also spent a good amount of time at the gym, and if only he showed off his biceps a little more, there would be tons of girls at his feet, begging for a chance to go on a date with him. Because he already had a cute face, and a cute smile, and pretty hands, and…

“- Well, they should really start to get interested in losers like you. Because I am. 

- W-What do you mean ? 

- I mean that you’re handsome Innie. Can’t you see that ? If it wasn’t for your sister, I would’ve made a move on you a long time ago.”

With each step you took closer to him, Jeongin took a step back, until his back hit the wall of the hallway behind him. His blush was even more visible now, and despite the pure shock in his eyes, there was also an underlying lust, a contained desire that you couldn’t wait to unleash. 

“- Y/N, I… 

- What ? Don’t you think I’m pretty too ? Don’t you want me Innie ?”

The poor boy gulped down loudly as he tried to not let the bulge slowly forming underneath his clothes become too noticeable. He didn’t really understand what was happening, if this was all a dream or not, but he wasn’t going to miss his chance in either case. 

“- Fuck… I’ve wanted you since she introduced you to me.”

A smirk spread on your lips as you took one step forward again, your chest now pressed against his, making it impossible for him to escape - even though he didn’t want to - and also making it impossible to not look down at your boobs squished together in your ridiculously tiny top.

“- Then stop thinking. Let me show you how good it feels. 

- Please…”

This was the last word Jeongin managed to get out before you took a hold of his jaw and pulled him down to your lips to kiss him. His reaction was immediate, almost like it was a reflex : he took a hold of your waist, pressing your bodies together and his lips moved against yours hungrily, expressing all his frustration, all the longing through this kiss. You hummed against his mouth when one of his hands slid back up to angle your face differently, taking advantage of your appreciative noise to slip his tongue through your lips. You welcomed it gratefully, now fully making out with him in the middle of the hallway, his sister sleeping only a room away. When Jeongin finally let you go, you were both breathless, and the heat you felt had increased by ten.

“- Are you sure you’re still a virgin ? Because you’re a great kisser…”

He rolled his eyes at your question, annoyance written all over his face. You let out a yelp of surprise as he suddenly pushed you to his room. He didn’t have to do much effort to make you stumble back until you were sitting on his bed, proving once more that he was hiding a lot of muscles under his oversized pants and hoodies. 

“- Just because I never had sex doesn’t mean I never kissed anyone.”

You leaned on your elbows, exposing your curves to him as you tilted your head to the side, a smirk taking over your face. You loved how easy it was for him to switch up from his awkward and shy demeanor to someone a lot more confident - and you liked it either way. 

“- How far did you go then ?”

As you toyed with the hem of your black miniskirt, you saw his cheeks taking that shade of red again. Though, he couldn’t detach his eyes from the way you were slowly pushing the material higher and higher up your thighs, revealing more and more skin to his hungry gaze. 

“- I just… Kissed. And did a little foreplay.

- No need to be embarrassed, baby. We have all been there once.”

Jeongin gulped down again as he nodded, still watching intently as you left your skirt alone to go up to your chest, your hands cupping them over the material of your top. You let out a sigh of relief at the action, looking up at him as he was still standing up in front of you, the boner in his sweatpants now more than obvious. 

“- Did you do this ?”

Again, Jeongin nodded, eyes glued to the way you were squishing your tits together and hitching to do it himself, to feel the plushness of your skin under his hands by himself. You seductively smiled at him as you let one of your hands slide down in between your thighs, pressing your fingers against your clothed clit and letting out a satisfied hum.

“- And this ?”

This time, Jeongin shook his head. He was too entranced by the show you were putting on for him to be able to form sentences or even think about words anymore. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

“- Want me to touch you ?

- Fuck… Yes, please…”

You smiled at him in a much softer way as you patted the spot beside you on his bed, inviting him to come sit with you. Even if you just wanted to jump him, you wanted every step of the way to be enjoyable for him, show him how good sex felt. Jeongin obeyed right away, and you immediately straddled him. His hands instinctively went to hold your waist and looked up at you, waiting for your next command. 

“- Tell me if you want me to stop, tell me if it’s too much, yeah ?

- Yes.”

The way the words left his mouth so quickly made you smile again and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him into another heated kiss. The buzz of alcohol heightened every one of your senses, and the way you had craved this for a while paired with the way Jeongin was so eager to please you quickly made you sigh in pleasure against his lips. Jeongin drank every little sound you made, relishing in the way he seemed to be able to have such an effect on you. The kiss was slow, but intense and passionate, and he didn’t hesitate to deepen it when he felt like he needed more. And you let him find his own rhythm, let him set the pace. 

“- You really are good at kissing Innie…

- Really ? 

- Hm… With a little practice, you could become the best.”

What you implied didn’t go on a deaf ears and Jeongin shivered at the thought of this becoming a regular occurrence. He wanted that. He wanted it so bad. And his unfocused eyes were telling you everything you needed to know as he pulled you in for another long kiss. You experimentally moved against him, your still clothed cunt rubbing against his boner - to test his reaction - and a pleased whimper slipped past his lips, getting swallowed by your hungry mouth. 

As you started to slowly rock your hips against him, he strengthened his grip on your waist. His breath was getting shorter and you could feel his sanity slipping away. It was almost cute how sensitive he was, but mostly, it only increased your own desire to show him how good it felt to be touched by someone else, to touch someone else. 

“- Does that feel good ?

- Yes… Really good.

- You can touch me, Innie.”

Jeongin nodded, but you could see that he was still hesitant to move his hands away from the secured spot of your waist. You smiled at him as you took one of his hands in yours, slowly moving it up to your chest and letting it rest here without breaking eye contact even once. You could see the way his breathing hitched in his throat and you could see the way he was now unable to detach his gaze from your cleavage. He tentatively squeezed your tit, and you encouraged him with your hums of pleasure, a different kind of thrill rushing through your veins as Jeongin got more and more confident. 

Within two minutes of touching your boobs, he was shamelessly groping them over your top, his head buried in your neck, sucking hickeys on your skin without a care in the world for the marks it was going to leave. Your dry humping had intensified, way too turned on by the way he now seemed unable to stop having his hands on you. But you were feeling that urge to discover his body too, to know what he was truly hiding under all of his oversized clothes. So you gently pushed him away, biting your lips at the way he seemed so clueless, so gone, only wanting to bury his face in between your tits again. 

“- Was it not good ?”

A soft smile took over your face as you leaned down to kiss his pouty lips. It was really cute how he almost forgot about his own raging erection because he wanted to please you, to make you feel good too.

“- It was really good, Innie. I just want to touch you too, if that’s okay ?”

Jeongin nodded again, his brain still having trouble processing the whole situation as you pushed his shirt over his head, leaving his upper body exposed. His cheeks went red again as he saw you detail his chest, arms and abs. You said nothing for a few seconds, letting your eyes devour him first, and then running your hand along the toned muscles of his chest, down to his defined abs that tensed under the feather like touch. 

“- You’re so sexy… So handsome, I knew you were but damn…”

The compliment made him awkwardly chuckle, not really used to show off his body. He was working hard on it, that was true, but since he didn’t have someone to expose it to, he wasn’t hearing these types of praises everyday. And especially not from you, the girl he had a crush on and an insatiable lust for. 

“- Don’t be so shy, baby… You should get used to that.”

And again, your words had an underlying tone that let him think that it could happen again. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up, so he just let you do your thing as you explored the skin of his torso with your hands and the skin of his neck with your lips. And your overwhelming presence soon made him forget about everything that wasn’t what was happening in that moment anyway. Jeongin closed his eyes, not trying to hold back the small moans escaping him and letting you mark his body in hickeys too. By the time your hands reached the waistband of his sweats, he was already breathless and so hard it was starting to be painful. 

“- Is it still okay ?”

Your sugary sweet voice paired with the way you were playing with the hem of his clothes made him nod faster than he ever had. You chuckled under your breath as you let your fingers slip under his pants until you could reach his very hard cock. The first contact with your fingers had Jeongin moaning a little louder and his whole body tensing. And when you wrapped your whole hand around his length, slowly starting to jerk him off, he was definitely gone, definitely ready to drop everything to have you do this again and again. 

“- You’re doing so good for me Innie…”

A small, muffled moan answered your praises and you just smiled back at him as you sped up your rhythm a little bit. Any trace of alcohol in your system had definitely disappeared by now, your focus only on Jeongin and the way he reacted to your touch, the delicious sounds he was making and how good he looked when he was feeling good like that. 

“- Y/N… Let me touch you too, let me make you feel good too… Please…”

He was almost begging to have a glimpse of your pussy, and who were you to deny him. You pecked his lips in approval as you got off the bed to get rid of your underwear, keeping your skirt that was too complicated to get out of right now. You settled back over his thighs, grabbing his hand in yours and pushing his fingers in your mouth to coat them in your saliva. This was partly for lubrication, and partly because you had been dreaming about these hands for far too long to not do it now that you had the chance too. And Jeongin was just looking up at you as if you hung up the stars in the sky, as if you were a goddess, and you liked the confidence boost maybe a little too much. 

“- Let me guide you baby, yeah ?”

He nodded along again, letting you push his hands down from your lips to between your legs. He gulped as you pressed the pads of his fingers against your wetness, feeling what he assumed was the clit by the way you sighed in relief as you rubbed his hand against it. 

“- Just this much pressure is good for me, but some girls like it faster or slower, you have to ask.”

Jeongin listened to you,  but he didn’t dare tell you that he didn’t plan to use this knowledge with anyone other than you. The only things he wanted to learn about were how to perfectly please you, how to make you cum and want more, how to make you come back to him. So he made sure to perfectly follow your rhythm, not flattering when you let him move on his own and started to jerk him off again, this time pulling his cock out of his sweats. Suddenly, you wanted to go down on your knees and take him into your mouth because he did have a very pretty dick - and it wasn’t a compliment you threw around this easily. 

“- Are you feeling good ? Am I doing good ?

- Yes, you’re doing really good Innie… Wanna make me feel even better ?

- Yeah…”

His immediate and eager response despite the fact that he was obviously starting to leak precum all over himself made you smile again. You loved how curious he was, how willing to discover and to let you teach him everything he needed to know he was. You grabbed his hand again, halting the cautious circles he was drawing on your clit to push his fingers lower, having them barely grazing against your more than wet entrance. You both gasped at the sensation, and your back arched slightly when Jeongin took it up himself to push one of his fingers inside, just enough for you to feel it. 

“- Is it okay ? Can I… Can I do this ?

- Hm, yes… Feels good, don’t stop.”

His brows were furrowed in concentration as he made sure to be careful when he fully pushed his middle finger inside of you. The way you were clenching down around him made him wonder about how good it would feel to have you wrapped around his cock instead and he throbbed in your hand that was still moving slowly around his dick, reminding him of his own arousal. You encouraged him to continue what he was doing with your endless praises, and soon enough, he was confident enough to push another one of his fingers inside of you, mesmerized by the way you were reacting - mouth opening and letting out a moan, squeezing him in your hand and your hips grinding against his palm as if it was a second nature. 

“- Does it feel good ?

- It does, Innie. Stop worrying about me, yeah ? You’re being such a good boy…”

Jeongin was always the first to laugh in his friend’s face for being wrapped around their girlfriend’s fingers but he realized in that moment that he was about to become way worse than them. He whined and chased your lips, all of the pleasure rushing into his veins starting to get way too much for him to stay quiet. The way you chuckled before grabbing his jaw and bringing your lips down on his for a hungry, messy kiss had him whimpering even louder. You made him weak, and he loved it so much. 

Noticing how sensitive and squirmy he had become, you sped up your movements around his cock. The thrusts of his fingers inside of you were regular, almost too slow, but it was so different from what you were used to, almost like a calculated rhythm that was starting to get to you and get you wanting more of it. And it didn’t help that his fingers were so long, and that they were making you feel so full, you just had to grind against his palm to get a bit of friction on your clit. 

You were so entranced by the kiss that you barely noticed it when Jeongin’s body started to shake. It was only when you felt a hot spurt of cum landing on your hand that you noticed he was indeed cumming, a strangled moan escaping him as you kept up your rhythm. The way he seemed just as surprised as you was arguably very cute, and you kept stroking him slowly and kissing his lips until he tried to get away from your touch.

“- I-I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t feel it coming…”

His embarrassment was coming back full force, and you were really, really starting to get addicted to how adorable he looked with his red cheeks and shifty eyes. You wiped your hand against your thigh, not caring too much for his cum before you grabbed his face, smiling at him while you tried to ignore the fact that his fingers were still stuffed inside of you even if he wasn’t moving them anymore.

“- Did it feel good ?”

Jeongin nodded and your smile only widened. 

“- Then never be embarrassed about having a good time baby. 

- But what about you ? You didn’t cum, did you ?”

You chuckled as you shook your head, placing another kiss on his pursed lips. You were thoroughly fucked. You knew you shouldn’t have started this at all, but now that you were here, you didn’t want to leave anymore. 

“- No, but it’s okay. I enjoyed watching you.”

There was a look of disappointment on Jeongin’s face as he looked up at you. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, as if he was trying to think about what he was going to do next, and before you knew it, he had you pinned underneath him, his larger frame hovering over you as his eyes were glued to your exposed cunt. Your squeal of surprise at his unexpected move made him look up at your eyes that were now pleading you.

“- Please, teach me how to make you cum. I wanna make you feel good too. I wanna… I wanna eat you out. Teach me.”

And how could you say no when he was so eager to learn, so eager to please you, so pliant when you pushed his head in between your thighs ? And from the way he was hungrily lapping at your folds, you were assured that your “teaching” wouldn’t stop there.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts and translations of my works.

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STOLEN TOUCHES (H.J x Reader)

Pairing: Jisung x afab! Reader (college au)

Tags: smut, 18+ mdni, unprotected sex, breeding, alcohol, cheating, p in v, oral (f receiving), best friends brother, noona kink.

word count: 5k+ words

Summary: Jisung had been in love with his best friends older sister for as long as he could remember, unfortunately she never saw him as anything more than her brothers friend, until that night at a frat party.

You just caught your boyfriend cheating at the party he wasn’t supposed to be at, hurt and vengeful, you decided to get shitfaced and make a few mistakes of your own, in this case the mistake was Jisung, your little brothers best friend.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You lived in a neighborhood close your college with your brother Felix, who had a group of friends that he had stuck with ever since 3rd grade; Chan, Leeknow, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin. You saw them around so much so that the presence of two or more in your house everyday was a constant.

As Felix’s older sister, you naturally were very protective of him and you subconsciously mothered him alot, which inevitably extended to a few of his friends who were the same age as him or younger; Jisung, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Innie, those were the few ones who practically lived at your house. There wasn’t so much of an age gap between you and your brother, you gave him only three years making you his oldest friend, Chan’s age.

That evening, your girlfriends had invited you to the biggest frat party happening on campus and you were reluctant about going, but you had not seen your boyfriend San for a few days and he had promised to take you out that weekend. You picked up your phone and shot him a quick text

You: Baby, where are you right now?

10 minutes later, his typing bubble popped up, disappeared and then popped up again. Huh.

San: At my friends studio… whats up?

You: Jihyo told me about the party at Kappa house tonight, are you gonna be there? I wanna go with you babe.

San: Oh no no! Kappa? I’m not going

You: Why?

San: I’m a bit tied up at the studio, I cant make it back to campus today. You’re not going right?

You: Well i wanted to go with you, otherwise ill go with the girls.

His bubble showed him typing again for a while before disappearing. What?

San: I dont want you to go babe, there’s gonna be a lot of dudes there and i can’t protect you.

You: Sweet of you baby, but i dont need protection, i’ll be fine

San: Just listen to me babe? Get your girls to do a movie night or something 🥺 i don’t want you to go without me, please?

Why was San acting weird? It wasn’t a big deal for you to go to the party if he wasnt coming, you had attended several parties without him before. You frowned at your screen, not entirely enjoying being told what to do. Another message popped up on your screen, one from the girl’s groupchat.

Jihyo: y/n are you gonna be ready in 10 minutes?? I’m already on the way to yours

You looked at the message, then back at your outfit you already laid you and thought fuck it.

You: I have not even showered as we speak so i know damn well i wont be ready in 10 😂

Jihyo: Girl i’m leaving you tf 😂 you can be your own ride!

You: Okay ill catch up with y’all at the party!

You put your phone down and started to get ready, taking your time since you were gonna be the one taking yourself to the party, faintly in the background muffled by the sound of the shower, you heard a door slam somewhere in the house and voices start to fill out, you guessed Felix was home with his friends.

~

Life’s a fucking bitch

That’s what you thought as you angrily stomped down the crowded frat staircase, away from the fucking spectacle you had just witnessed in one of the bedrooms on the second floor.

He was fucking some other bitch! He said he wasnt coming to the party but you opened the door and found your boyfriend ramming his stupid dick is some other bitches ass?! You were furious! He said he was going to be holed up at the fucking studio!! He lied?!

He didn’t even notice you, too far gone and lost in cheating, he didn’t hear you yell “WHAT THE FUCK SAN?!” over the blaring music. He didnt notice you storm out in tears either.

You grabbed the first solo cup you saw on the nearest table and threw back the contents, it tasted like shit but it burned your throat and that was exactly what you needed, your mind begging to forget, you found another half empty tequila bottle and tipped it back, ready to get yourself shitfaced and let the future you deal with the aftermath.

You had been dating San for the past 8 months, it wasn’t like you had the best relationship, he was constantly flirting with girls in his faculty, he always partied without you and lied alot and to top it off, your brother and his friends absolutely hated him but you still stubbornly ignored all the red flags and stayed with San, not ever entirely believing all the cheating rumors you heard cos you trusted him, that is until a few minutes ago. Now you felt angry and numb and you wanted to hurt him back.

On the other end of the crowded room, Jisung was hanging back against the frat wall beside Hyunjin and Minho, the party was in full swing and more than half the gang was already shitfaced or on the dancefloor, but as the designated drivers, himself and Minho stuck to drinking energy drinks and soda, while Hyunjin was sipping on whatever mixture he had in his solo cup chattering excitedly about the girl who just gave him her number, he tuned them out when he noticed you angrily stomp down the stairs, knocking peoples cups over and earning a series of “what the fucks” in your wake.

Curiously, his eyes followed you as you grabbed a cup and chugged its contents, He frowned, automatically wanting to go to you but stopping himself from pushing off the wall and making his way over, he was pretty sure that cup wasn’t yours and that was not very much a y/n thing to do.

Jisung wanted to go and stop you when you picked up an open tequila bottle but he knew that It wasn’t his place to do that, he hadnt even expected to see you at the same frat party, earlier when he drove to your house to pick up Felix and the guys, he hadnt seen your car in the driveway and assumed you were off somewhere else.

Jisung had secretly harbored a crush on you for a while now, he loved everything about you, often catching himself staring at you when he was over at Felix’s, the only other person who knew how he really felt about you was Minho and that was only because nothing ever skipped him. Now watching you cleary angry and about to make alot of bad decisions, Minho nudged him with an elbow.

“Shouldn’t you go check on Noona?” He said nodding towards your direction, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Do i have to-“ Jisung started to pretend as if he didn’t actually want to go to you already, but immediately stopped in his tracks when he saw some weirdo sidle up behind you. “Okay scratch that, I’ll be right back”

He dropped his cup on the closest chair and started making his way over to you, ignoring Minho’s annoying laughter.

You were swaying your head to the loud music, hands in the hair and the contents of the bottle in your hand sloshing over, the alcohol hit you fast as you were never really much of a drinker but atleast it had you where you wanted right now. In your hazy state you felt a hand come around your waist from behind. Unfamiliar hands. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Go awayyy” you said, words slurring as your head spun. You pushed the hands away from you, turning your back once again and taking another swig of the tequila.

“Y/n! Noona”

Your head snapped up when you heard your name, squinting to try to make out the face of the otherwise familiar voice that called you, you looked ahead of you into the large body of people melted together in a sea of sweat, smoke and neon lights.

Jisung.

Your brain hissed the name of your little brothers best friend, as he appeared in your line of sight. Through the undulating bodies, strobing multicolored lights and pulse of the speakers.

“Sungie?” You ask, squinting up at him as he got closer to where you stood.

“Are you okay Noona? I think you’ve drank enough of that” He said, gently taking the bottle away from you which caused you to whine in protest.

“Nooooo! I was drinking that” You made grabby hands at it but he lifted the bottle above his head and out of your reach.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked again in a pout, subconsciously leaning into him for support.

“I’m here with Felix and the guys, we didn’t know you were coming to this party too” he said, gently placing his free hand at your back and steering you away from the center of the dancefloor.

“Oh? I was supposed to be here with my stupid boyfriend” *hiccup* “but he lied and said he wouldn’t come here!” You complained, words slurring at how tipsy you had become.

Han raised an eyebrow at the information, turning to scan the crowd for Choi San, your music major boyfriend who he absolutely despised. He couldn’t find him anywhere.

“Where’s he then?”

Annoyed, you pushed away from him to glare as if Jisung was the cause of your problems, “i just walked in on him cheating on me upstairs”

Jisung stopped in his tracks, staring at you wondering if he heard you wrong “what?”

“He’s up there fucking some other bitch Sungie! And he didn’t even notice me walk in.. *hiccup* I hate him!” You yelled, eyes welling up with tears for the second time that night.

Jisung saw red. He clenched his fists and glared up at the stairs, torn between taking care of you and going to find San to rip his head off.

“I think i’m going to thr-“ you words got cut short as you hunched over and emptied the contents of your stomach right there in the corner of the room, all over the floor and on yourself.

“Oh shit! Are you okay noona?!” Jisung asked for the third time that night, his eyebrows rose up in shock and he tried to hold you but it was too late.

“I feel sick..” you muttered

“Lets get you cleaned up”

He pulled off his jacket and threw over your shoulder and basically carried you into the nearest free room he could get to. Once in, he set you down on your feet by the bathroom door and held it open for you.

“Can you clean yourself up? Or do i need to get your friends? Are they here? Do you need help?” Jisung rambled, unsure what to do.

You grimaced, looking down at yourself and instantly starting to regret drinking so much so fast, you fingered at the edge of your soiled crop top, wanting to peel it off but too weak to actually make the move, you barely registered Jisungs panic mode beside you.

“Off… want it off” you whined

“You want me to… do it myself?” He stuttered

“I want it offff” you started to throw a small tantrum, palming at the shirt and soiling your hands even more.

“Shit okay okay I’ll help you”

He hesitantly pinched the clean part of the top and helped you peel it off over your head, all the while he kept his head firmly facing away from you in order to provide privacy.

He heard you struggle some more before letting out a sad whine sounding almost like you were about to cry.

“Sungie it’s so hot…,” you murmur, tugging at your jeans buckle. "Can you take off my jeans…?". You look at him with puppy dog eyes.

He audibly sucks in a breath, ears turning bright red at the thought of having to see you in any state of undress, he sighs and turns around to help you.

"Fine, I'll help you take them off Noona" He gingerly reaches towards your fly to pop the button, all the while keeping his eyes trained on his hand and not letting them wander.

In his peripheral vision though he realized that you were completely bare under the shirt you had tossed, Jisung gulped hard, his brain short circuiting for a moment before you sighed in relief as you took over undressing and started to peel off your jeans while you staggered into the bathroom and closed the door.

Jisung stood frozen in his spot, the image of you full perky breasts burning into his memory. Heat and blood rushed to his cock immediately filling him out. He knew he had to get the fuck out of that room and fast. But leaving you there in that state would mean letting anyone come in to take advantage of you and that was even worse.

The sounds of the shower turning on and a little ruckus from you struggling to get clean in your tipsy state came through the bathroom door, Jisung gulped hard, his imagination was running wild, there was literally only a door separating him from your naked form in the bathroom, he could already imagine the water cascading down your soft skin and God those fucking tits? He groaned dragging his palm over his face, he was so down bad for his best friend’s sister and there was nothing he could do about it.

He knew he absolutely had no chance for several reasons, the most being that you never looked at him that way, except as your little brother’s best friend who you babied alot, another reason being that Felix would absolutely kill him if he ever knew he thought about his sister like that.

The water stopped running and Jisung stood alert, not knowing what to do with himself as he heard you finish.

“Sungie?” You called.

“I’m here…?” he called back, almost like a question than an answer.

You gingerly opened the door a little and poked your head out to him.

“I dont have a shirt” you said in a small voice, you were already feeling a little better after you threw up and washed yourself, but the pain and anger from earlier still lingered. You were a bit more sober than before with just an underlying buzz.

His eyerows immediately shot up, completely disappearing under his bangs, he rushed to pull off his own shirt to offer to you without really thinking. “Oh right! Sorry you can put this on!” He said, stretching a very toned and musclar arm towards you.

Your eyes locked onto his body. Wow.

You hadn’t seen him shirtless for years now and you had heard in passing that one of Felix’s friends had gotten tattoos but you never really bothered to know who it was or what they got, so the markings of ink on your little brother’s best friend’s body was not something you expected to see.

He had a compass on his right pec, along with a gothic text saying BLESSED, and some smaller sentences underneath it that you could not quite make out. You let your eyes roam even further, checking out his very tight and toned body, he wasn’t as big as San but damn was he fine!

Without really meaning to, you took a step closer to get a better look at the writing on Jisung’s tattoo, in the process letting go of the door you hid behind. He instantly turned red, eyes nearly popping out of its socket when he saw your naked tits for the second time that night.

“Your tattoos,” you reached for his chest, tracing your fingernail along the smaller writing, which in turn caused Jisung to shudder under your touch. “What do they mean?”

Completely stupefied, His mouth hung open his words failing him. “Wh-what?”

You took another step closer, stepping completely into his space still blissfully unaware that you were flashing him as you had nothing but your panties on, Jisung wanted desperately to look away, to respect you but he was having a hard time taking his eyes off your beautiful body. The way your full perky breasts danced with each breath and movement, he watched as you stared in awe at his own body, not even bothering to hide your approval, your palm laid flat over the BLESSED ink and your other hand came up to touch him too like you were examining an expensive piece of sculptural art.

“Beautiful” You muttered wistfully under your breath but still he caught it, it was when your fingers lightly brushed over his nipples that he jolted out of his temporary paralysis. His hand instantly flew up to stop yours from causing more damage to his resolve.

“Noona! Wait, I… your shirt?” He offered weakly. The tip of his ears had turned a pretty shade of red, he hadn’t had any alcohol but at this point, he was the one who looked more tipsy between the two of you with his red face and dilated pupils.

“So pretty”

Your brain supplied the only two simple words that occupied it as you looked up to meet his eyes, seeing him like that with such a fucked out expression instantly had you realizing the state of your undress which he had just pointed out. That sobered you up completely.

Jisung knew the moment he saw your eyes widen, that you had just now realized the position you both were in, he fully expected you to scream or run back into the bathroom or something. Anything. You only just stared back at him in mild shock but you didn’t move, you didn’t even take your hands off his body, it was like you were frozen in place but very much assertive.

You knew at that moment that you were about to do something really fucking stupid. You knew you were going to regret it, but stubbornly you wanted to leave the consequences for future y/n to handle, you could worry about all that shit later, hell you could even blame it on the alcohol but right now, you were hurting and you needed to numb the pain, you needed to forget.

With newfound courage, you leaned in closer, standing up on your tippy toes and your eyes flitting from his own eyes to his soft looking lips and back.

Jisung knew instantly what was about to happen, the atmosphere in the room was suddenly charged and you could literally cut the tension with a knife. As you pressed your breasts to his chest when you stood on your toes to reach him, he knew at that point that he had lost the battle between common sense and his already raging boner.

“Fuck it” He swooped down and captured your lips, meeting you halfway there and you instantly melted into him.

Your hands slid up his body and found purchase behind his neck, he in turn wrapped his arms around your small waist, pulling you impossibly closer and deepening the kiss. You both moved against each others lips, seemingly not being able to get enough of each other, the kiss went from gentle to heated in a matter of seconds, both your hands groping each other wildy.

The two of you stumble backwards and fall on the bed, only breaking apart for him to pepper kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

You straddled him already feeling how much he wanted you, his impressive length sat thick and hard against your butt, your underwear being only material separating you from him.

“I need to know if you’re sure about this” he mouthed against your neck, “Noona, if we dont stop now-“

“I dont know what i want Ji, but i dont want to stop” you moaned, grinding down on his member and eliciting a desperate groan from him.

He pulled you away from him just to scan your face, he wasnt sure who even looked more fucked out between the both of you. You lifted your body off him climbing down from the bed completely, not breaking eye contact you hooked your thumbs onto your panties and slowly pulled, gyrating your hips in a sexy manner and watching his eyes follow every movement. Jisung visibly swallowed when you kicked off the offending material and stood before him in your birthday suit.

You had to be the most beautiful creature he ever set his eyes on, he could hardly believe he wasn’t in one of his wet dreams where you were a regular visitor.

Jisung sprawls to a sitting position on the bed, legs opened wide, head lifted and eyes on you, beckoning you closer.

"Sungie-" you crawl on the bed and kneel between his open thighs, raking a hand through his messy hair.

He tilts his face upwards, sitting up taller, "Yes Noona."

His hands ghost on the outside of your body, not touching, but asking wordlessly for permission to touch. You groan, climbing into his lap and grasping one of his hands to press it into your ass.

Jisung moans your name, fingers biting into the bare cheek of your ass as he tumbles back onto the bed just as your lips ghost over his.

"Let me take care of you" You whisper to him.

He responds with his hands greedily trying to roll your hips into his trapped erection. You giggle at that, drawing out another groan from him along with a string of profanities.

Sitting up, you press your full weight into his pelvis, Jisung starts to whine underneath you, bucking into your soft ass.

"Tsk tsk, don't get so worked up just yet," you kiss his cheekbone before sitting back.

You come into his space after taking in the view of him beneath you, you plant a soft kiss to his lips and down his cheek, along his jaw and neck. As your hands work to unbutton his jeans, he lifts his hips with your guidance and you gift him another soft kiss before pulling them off and tossing along with your other discarded clothing.

The air between the two of you sizzles with anticipation. Slowly, tauntingly you reach up to cup him through his briefs, watching as his head kicks back with a pitchy groan.

“I want you to taste me Ji” you said before gently pushing him back to lie against the pillows.

He followed your lead, lying back and gazing up at you as you straddled him. He touched every expanse of your skin that was within his reach, your breasts, your stomach, your ass, he grabbed at everything. It was like he wanted to memorize every curve and contour of your body.

Your cunt was already drenched, you had soaked a wet patch through his briefs, leaving a pussy sized stain on it. You then lifted yourself, moving to positioning yourself so your cunt was hovering over his head.

“Wanna cum on your mouth…” you said before letting your body down on his waiting mouth.

He looked up at you with those beautiful eyes, eyes that were already rolling back at your taste.

He lapped at your folds, tongue fucking into your core. You grabbed his hair rolling your hips on his tongue. As you rolled your hips you leaned back to grab his cock through his soiled briefs, his precum staining the underwear and making more of a mess that you left it.

He jumped at the sudden touch making him groan. You started moving your hand on him, squeezing and pumping him faster and faster knowing he wasn’t gonna last.

“Keep that up and i’m gonna cum” he choked out. You let go of him making him whine ruining his high.

“Please” he whimpered.

“Why should I let you cum when you haven’t even made me cum yet hmm?” You teased.

Jisung was now on a mission, sucking at your clit as you rode his face. He nibbled on you ever so gently, the moan you let out had his head spinning .

You were getting close- He was already there and desperately fucking into your hand for a release.

His hands found their way to your hips pulling you down onto him as far as you could, basically smothering himself in your cunt. His hands slinking their way up your chest to twist at your hardened sensitive nipples. As much as you wanted to protest you didn’t, feeling your high quickly approaching. Something he knew all too well was that you needed his touch, you craved it as much as he craved yours.

“I need you to cum for me! Please Noona” he begged. Those pretty eyes stared up at you with desperation. You snapped. Pulling his hair harshly as your thighs closed around him. Your orgasm came crashing down on you like a tsunami.

When you finally came down from your high and your legs stopped trembling, you moved yourself back down and without a warning, pulled him free of his briefs and you sunk yourself down taking his throbbing cock fully. Your cunt fit so perfectly on him.

“Fuuuuuckkkk”, He moaned out, body twitching like he was trying to get away, “You’re - I’m-“

He couldn’t even get out the words before he was cumming inside of you, cock twitching deep inside you, you rolled your hips as you felt him pump you full of cum over and over again, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hands gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave nail marks.

“I’m sorry!” he said in a whisper, closing his eyes tight and not being able to bring himself to look at you, and yet he made no move to pull you off because guess what? His cock was still very hard.

You started to move up and down on his sensitive cock, not caring about his overstimulation. His hands gripped at your hips pathetically whimpering.

“Then make it up to me Sungie” you smirk, not slowing your movements, you knew he had more in him judging by how he was still rock solid inside you.

Jisung easily lifted you with his arms and flipped you over, you landed under him and he sunk back into your sopping heat in one stroke, your cunt already slick and messy with your mixed juices.

“I can do that y/n” his eyes darkened and it was like he flipped a switch the moment he flipped you over, something primal was dancing behind his eyes.

“Oh God!” You moaned as he started to thrust into you, creating a sharp and steady tempo, his skin slapped yours repeatedly making pornographic lewd sounds that mixed with the music in the background.

He doesn't relent fucking into your cunt, looking down at where you were joined and watching how you were literally sucking him in, Jisung felt as though his eyes might roll to the back of his head from the sight alone.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking tight," he groans, throwing his head back as he pistons his hips as if to match the beat of the music outside. “So good”

"Jisung!" you yell, you felt yourself quiver as your orgasm slammed into you with the onslaught of his cock on that sweet spot he kept hitting that had your back arching.

He picked up your left leg and threw it over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle, he felt like he might have convulsed from pleasure in that moment.

Jisung had his mind set, he was going to ‘make it up to you’ as you wanted and to do that, he wasn’t going to stop until you were shaking, sobbing mess, until you marked his back with your pretty nails murmuring nothing but his name over and over like a prayer. Even if this was going to be his only opportunity, he wanted to fuck the memory of San out of your body.

He was rutting his hips into yours so desperately now, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyebrows drawn together as he tried to hold himself back from spilling inside of you again, he needed to make this last, but the way you were clenching around him and fucking him back, the way your body responded to every movement had his self control hanging by a thread.

"Sungie! Please please- ah fuck! Please" you begged, pulling his head down and biting into his neck as your second orgasmn crashed down on you, your body convulsed beneath him, you saw white.

“I’m cumming!” You managed to gasp.

"That’s it Noona, just a little longer and i’m gonna fill you up so fucking good" Jisung mutters.

He felt you squeeze and clench around him again as he fucked you through your orgasm. he couldn’t hold out much longer, so gathered the last of his energy to slam his cock against your slippery warm walls so fucking hard you has practically become one with the bed.

“I’m cumming! Take it baby” he groaned. His hips stilled as he gave you ropes and ropes of his cum.

Jisung scattered wet kisses all over your face and chest as he slowly pumped out the last bits of his cum into your spent cunt. You both panted heavily as you came down from your highs, holding onto each other tightly like you were scared you would drift away.

A comfortable silence fell upon you both and you separately wondered about the events that just happened, you ran your fingers through his hair that had gotten damp with sweat, he lifted his head to search your eyes.

“Are you okay y/n” he asked in a small voice, the primal version of him suddenly back in its shell. “Did i hurt you?”

You smiled sweetly at him. “No you didn’t sungie, i can handle it” you winked and he blushed red.

“Okay noona, but i think its time to get you home for real” Jisung said, standing and retreating to the bathroom to get towels so he could clean you up. You made to sit up and follow him but he shook his head no and gestured that you lie back down.

You knew that by morning, after the hangover you were sure to get, you were going to be in a whole lot of shit, but you just allowed yourself a night of escape, you would think about what you had done later, right now all you wanted was to be taken care of by your little brothers best friend who had just fucked the living daylights out of you.

***

Authors Note: This was a result of my horny friends imagination! I just brought it to life!

Please leave a like and reblog if you love it!

[neeeooon]

Heyy can I request bllk guys reacting to their S/O being really sweet and soft spoken but becoming toxic while playing video games (e.g, screaming, cursing out players, crashing out when they lose)?

also can you include nagi,the itoshi brothers,nikko and ness? Thank you <3

yessss i had fun with this one so i hope you enjoy!!

when you’re a serious gamer ;

bf bllk x gn!reader. cw: cursing, pet names (from u)

nagi seishiro

-> you don’t like playing with nagi because you know you can get.. intense.. and you don’t want him to see that side of you

-> however. you’re watching him play a shooting game where he suddenly gets ganged up on and killed repeatedly, and you cannot stop your fingers from twitching

-> “nagi?” “mm?” “can i borrow your controller and headset for a minute?” “hm? oh, sure.” “thank you, baby..! WHICH ONE OF YOU FOUL MOUTH FUCKERS KILLED MY BOYFRIEND?!”

-> nagi watches, eyes slightly widened, as you shoot and kill every single player within the one minute you asked to borrow his controller

-> “y/n?” “yes, baby?” “you can keep the controller :)”

itoshi sae

-> sae never really played video games growing up, so you decided to introduce him to the basics, including one of your favorites. minecraft

-> you don’t remember minecraft being this hard

-> “sae don’t hit—AAAAAA” and you, along with all your stuff and half your house, are blown up by a creeper. “oh. those green ones explode?” “yes.” “are you dead?” “yes.” “oh. my bad.” “it’s. okay. :).”

-> but after the third time, it is no longer okay. “SAE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! SWIM TO THE SURFACE!!!” “how do you sw—oh. am i dead?” “YES.” “and i had your stuff?” “YES.”

-> your final straw and mistake of the day, taking sae to the nether. “okay, now make sure you don’t accidentally hit—SAE, NO.” he hits the piglin. “oh, why are they all hitting me?” you turn the game off after that :)

itoshi rin

-> though he was clueless at the beginning, rin is really good at video games. and it pisses you off

-> you previously won the last two games of sword fighting on wii sports resort, but rin got the hang of it quicker than you expected, and was now beating you in round three

-> “are you going easy on me, y/n?” you’re so in the zone you can’t even tell if he’s trying to talk smack or being genuine. “rin, i love you, but please shut ya mouth before i shove my wii remote into it.” “!!!”

-> he won, and it took everything in you not to throw your remote at the tv screen as he chuckled at your angry expression. “you’re a good teacher, y/n.” “don’t even.”

niko ikki

-> “oh my fucking god, i swear i’m gonna jump into the fucking screen, strangle your avatar with my charging cord, and burn your house to the ground!” “y/n?” “WHAT.” “… we’re playing roblox..”

-> yes, you were playing roblox. and some kid was trolling you for continuously falling off the ledge of the training section you’d originally joined for niko

-> “i can play roblox, i swear.” “i know you can!” “I SWEAR IM NOT THIS BA—FUCK OFF, MATTYSINGS69!!!”

-> he can’t help it. niko just laughs and laughs as you continue to bully this child online. in your defense, the kid is cussing right back at you, so you’re even

-> “i didn’t know you were so violent 😭” “pls don’t leave me over my gaming rage.” “don’t worry.. mattysings69 deserved it—“ “RIGHT?!”

alexis ness

-> poor baby is traumatized

-> the two of you were enjoying a peaceful date, playing animal crossing in his room, when some bozo visiting your island picked your tools up from off the ground

-> you can barely contain your rage. “ness?” “yeah?” “please cover your ears for a moment? :)” “.. okayy.?” “thank you :) PUT. THE TOOLS. DOWN.”

-> when the player didn’t, you used some more… creative words, some ness had never even heard of until just then. in the end, you got your tools back

-> “y/n?” “oh, yes, ness?” “… are you well?” “of course! of course :)”

[darlingsblackbook]

The princess and the fool

Jester!Gojo x Princess!Reader

Medieval Court AU

Summary : The halls of the castle are always cold. I have grown used to it, the chill, the silence, the feeling of existing yet never truly being seen. Then the jester arrives.

English is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. Feel free to point them out but be kind with it♡

°•♡•°

The great hall is alive tonight.

The long tables overflow with food, the scent of roasted meats and spiced honey thick in the air. The golden chandeliers shine a warm glow over the gathered nobles, their laughter filling the room. Musicians play a lively tune, filling the air with the sharp trill of flutes and the deep hum of stringed instruments.

I sit at my place near the high table, not beside my father, nor near my brothers. Those seats belong to those with purpose. I am here because it is expected, nothing more.

Then, a voice cuts through the revelry.

"Ah, my lady of eternal gloom!"

The hall hushes, if only slightly, as heads turn toward the source of the voice.

I lift my gaze.

He stands in the center of the hall, a stark contrast to the muted elegance of the court.

Silver hair glows under candlelight, strands falling messily over his forehead, though I sense the disarray is intentional. His clothing-a jester’s garb in rich crimson and gold-is striking, adorned with delicate embroidery that glimmers when he moves. The bells at his sleeves and boots barely chime, as if he is too graceful to let them.

But his eyes...

His eyes are the most dangerous of all.

A shade of blue so bright they seem otherworldly, sharp with amusement yet unreadable beneath the weight of something deeper.

His grin is reckless, the kind that belongs to a man who has never known restraint.

"If I dare say," he continues, spreading his arms wide, as if addressing the entire court, "I have met ghosts with more cheer than you, oh princess of goom"

A murmur ripples through the gathered lords and ladies. Some chuckle behind their goblets of wine, while others glance at me, waiting to see how I will respond.

I say nothing.

I just hold his gaze

Then, as if nothing has happened, I lower my eyes back to my plate.

The moment passes. The court resumes its chatter. The musicians play again. The jester- whoever he is- laughs and continues his performance, spinning through the hall with charm.

But I can feel it.

Even as he entertains the crowd, his presence filling every inch of the room, those piercing eyes keep finding their way back to me.

And I can't helpt but wonder, what is it that he sees?

°•♡•°

I see him before he speaks.

It has been this way ever since that first night.

Whenever we are in the same room, his gaze seems to find me. Even when he is performing for the nobles, spinning tales and juggling goblets of wine without spilling a a single drop, I feel the weight of his attention.

I do not know why.

Perhaps he has taken it as a challenge: to crack the stonefaced silent princess, to pry a laugh from lips that rarely part.

Perhaps he is simply a fool.

His laughter echoes through the great hall again and I can not seem to withhold myself from lifting my gaze in the direction of the sound. His eyes almost seemed to glimmer in the warm glow of the chandelier suspended above the table. Lips pulled in a wide grin, his teeth-fangs- almost seemed to glint as if sending off a warning to stay away.

His head shifted and tilted to the side, I moved my gaze up to realize he had caught me admiring him. The jester did not seemed to mind though, he only blinked one eye in a quick wink.

What a fool.

°•♡•°

A week later, the feast is the same as always. Lords and ladies drink, their voices growing louder after every emptied goblet. Musicians pulling their strings until their fingers ache, the servants moving between tables like shadows, unseen, unnoticed.

My eyes swept over the great hall once, then another time, and again. I scanned every and each indivudal, but what was I looking for, really?

White locks, shimmering blue eyes and the faint sound of bells ringing.

My grip on my fork tightened until I could almost feel the heavy metal bend under my hold. What am I thinking? I released a breath I had not realized I was holding as the realization dawned on me. I had unconsciously been looking for-

A heavy sigh, exaggerated and drawn out, cuts through my thoughts.

I know it is him before I even turn.

"Ah, woe is me!," he laments, dramatically collapsing onto the floor beside my chair. A few nobles turn to watch the spectacle, curious. He places a hand over his heart, as if pained beyond reason. "My suffering knows no end!"

I raise one eyebrow as I lift my goblet and take a slow sip of my wine.

"If only—" he gasps, lifting his head to meet my gaze. "If only the princess of eternal gloom would spare me a glance, perhaps my shattered heart might mend just a little."

I do not indulge him.

He groans and lets his head fall back against the floor, arms spread as though he has perished on the cold stone. "No?" he mutters, voice full of despair. "Not even a glance? Not even the tiniest flicker of pity?"

Someone kicks him.

"Get up, fool," one of the knights mutters.

The jester lifts his head, feigning deep betrayal. "Even the knights have turned against me! Tell me, is there no love left in this world?"

But I simply set my goblet down and say, "Not for you it seems."

A collective murmur ripples through the court, amusement laced with intrigue.

The fool freezes for a fraction of a second.

Then he grins.

His suffering deepens—his body crumpling as if my words have physically wounded him. "A cruel, heartless woman! How ever shall I survive this torment?" He turns his gaze to the ceiling. "Perhaps I shall wither away. Perhaps the weight of my unrequited love will drag me to an early grave—"

"You would not be so lucky," I interrupt.

He falters.

Then, laughter bursts from his lips, loud and unrestrained. His whole body shakes with it, delight sparking in his impossibly blue eyes. He presses a hand to his chest, shaking his head.

"You wound me," he gasps between chuckles. "And yet—I think I adore you even more for it."

Fool.

I should not entertain him.

I should not allow him to pull me into whatever ridiculous game he has started.

But the corners of my lips twitch.

Just slightly.

But his gaze sharpens, as if he has caught me in the act.

He does not let me go so easily.

°•♡•°

He seems to always find me.

It does not stop at feasts.

If anything, he is worse outside of them.

I do not know how he does it, how he appears in the most unexpected places at the most ridiculous times.

But somehow, he does.

The first time, I am in the library.

The towering shelves stretch high above me, filled with books older than the castle itself. I am searching for a particular volume, my fingers trailing over the worn spines-

When a deep sigh echoes through the chamber.

"Truly," The jester laments from somewhere behind me, "this heartbreak will be the end of me."

I do not turn. "If you are here for pity, you will not find it amongst books."

He appears beside me in an instant, leaning against the shelf with a lazy grin. "No? I thought perhaps I’d find some poetry on tragic love to soothe my pain." He glances at the books. "Or a guide on how to win the heart of a cold and distant princess."

I pull a book from the shelf and hand it to him. "How to disappear, completely."

The jester takes the book from my hands, glancing at the title.

Then he looks at me.

Then back at the book.

His grin widens.

"Ah," he muses, flipping it open dramatically. "A personal recommendation. How cruel you are, princess. Do you long for my absence so dearly?"

I return to scanning the shelves. "I long for silence."

"And yet, you keep speaking to me."

I do not offer that with a response.

He leans closer, dropping his voice as if sharing a secret. "You know, if you wish to disappear, you could always run away with me. I happen to be very good at sneaking out completely unnoticed."

I glance at him then, just briefly. "A jester and a runaway princess. How original."

"Mm, you’re right," he sighs, pretending to reconsider. "Perhaps we should fake our deaths first. Make it dramatic. You can even pick how we go."

"Poison."

The word leaves my lips so quickly, so flatly, that for a moment, he blinks at me.

And then he bursts into laughter.

It echoes through the grand library, far too loud for the sacred quiet of this place. I should tell him to lower his voice.

But I don’t.

Because despite myself, I feel something stir in my chest at the sound of his carefree laugh.

Something dangerously unfamiliar.

Gojo holds the book against his heart. "I shall cherish this gift of yours, my gloomy princess. A token of your deep and unspoken love."

"Then I shall expect you to vanish by morning."

He gasps, clutching his chest. "You wound me! Again! Just how many times must I die for your love?"

"You have survived this long," I say, taking a different book from the shelf and turning away. "Clearly, your suffering is not terminal."

His laughter follows me as I walk away.

And when I am far enough that I should not hear him anymore, he still calls after me.

"I shall suffer on, then! Only for you!"

It is not just the library.

Nor is it just the feasts.

He seems to find me everywhere.

In the courtyard, where I sit by the fountain, enjoying a rare moment of quiet.

Only to hear a dramatic splash behind me as he throws himself into the shallow water, arms spread wide. "I am drowning in sorrow!" he declares. "A love unreturned is a fate worse than death!"

"You are drowning in two feet of water," I say without looking up.

"In my sorrow," he corrects, laying flat in the fountain like a man lost at sea.

I shake my head, returning to my book. A maid walks by and pauses, looking between us with concern.

"Leave him," I say before they can ask. "He is beyond saving."

The fool gasps, lifting his head. "How cold!"

The servant wisely leaves.

And him, the fool that he is, remains in the water for another five minutes, waiting for me to acknowledge him.

I do not.

But the next time I pass by the fountain, I see something new. Something that had not been there before.

A tiny paper boat, floating lazily in the water.

When I unfold it, I find a simple message written inside.

I would not mind drowning a thousand times, over and over, if it meant I could be by your side.

~ Your fool

I do not know why he seeks me out, why he insists on drawing laughter from someone who has long since forgotten how to give it.

I do not know why, despite everything, I let him

But I do know this.

The castle has always been cold.

The halls have always been empty.

And I have always been unseen.

But then came the jester.

And no matter how I try to disappear, he will not let me. He keeps finding me. He keeps seeing me.

°•♡•°

The castle is quiet at this hour.

Most are asleep, lost in dreams or the silence of the night.

Not me.

And, it seems, not him.

I hear the footsteps before I see him. Light, unhurried, belonging to a man who walks as though the world lays in the palm of his hand.

I do not turn, even when I feel his presence settle beside me on the stone ledge of the tower balcony. The wind is gentle tonight, cool against my skin as I look out over the sleeping kingdom.

"You never sleep," the jester muses. His voice is softer now, quiet, stripped of its usual mischief.

"Neither do you," I reply.

He leans forward, arms resting against his knees. "I sleep plenty."

"Liar."

A soft chuckle, but he does not argue.

For a while, both of us stay silent.

The air between us feels different tonight. Not tense, but something quieter, something softer. I do not know if it is the hour or the solitude, but for once, the Jester does not fill the silence with his usual laughter.

Instead, he tilts his head, looking at me with a strange kind of curiosity.

"You never call me by my name," he says suddenly.

I blink, caught off guard. "What?"

He smiles, but it’s not the grin he usually wears, it’s something smaller, something almost… shy. "You call me ‘fool,’ ‘jester,’ sometimes ‘idiot’ when you think I’m not listening."

"You are all of those things," I say, but my voice lacks its usual bite.

"And yet," he hums, "not once have you called me by my name."

I open my mouth, then close it.

Because he’s right.

I never realized that I do not call him by his name, it had not been intentional. Or maybe, subconsciously, I had never called him by his name to still keep a distance between us- so I would not let him too close to my heart.

The thought of saying it aloud feels… intimate.

More intimate than anything we have ever done.

He watches me expectantly, his usual playfulness dimmed into something more patient.

And maybe it is the night, or the way the world feels impossibly small on this tower ledge, but-

"...Satoru."

The name feels unfamiliar on my tongue.

Satoru's eyes widen slightly, and for the first time since I have met him, he looks startled.

But the surprise fades quickly, melting into something impossibly soft. "Again," he says.

I shake my head, looking away. "No."

"Please?"

I close my eyes. "Do not push your luck."

A breath of laughter, and then,

"Come with me."

I turn to him, confused. "...What?"

"Let’s leave," he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. "You and me. Run away. Disappear."

I snort. "You are ridiculous."

"I’m serious.", His voice holds no humor.

I look at him then, truly look at him, and I see it, the absence of laughter in his gaze. The rawness in his expression. The way his fingers twitch against the stone as if he is holding something back.

He is serious.

He is serious.

The weight of it settles in my chest, something heavy and unfamiliar. I do not know how to hold it.

"Why would I leave?" I ask quietly.

"For the same reason I would," he says, and I hate that he says it like I should already know.

Like the answer has always been there, unspoken between us. I search his face, trying to make sense of this, of him, of the impossible thing he is asking of me.

"Do you know why I became a jester?" he asks suddenly.

The question catches me off guard.

Gojo exhales, leaning back slightly, gaze drifting toward the stars. "Because I wanted to laugh," he says simply. "Because I wanted others to laugh. Because laughter makes the world feel lighter, even when it isn’t."

He looks at me again, and this time, I see something deeper in his eyes.

Something sad.

"But you… you never laugh."

I turn away. "Some people are not made for laughter."

"That’s not true," he says, his voice too soft, too kind. "I’ve seen it, you know. The way your lips twitch when you fight a smile. The way your eyes crinkle when you think no one is watching."

My chest feels tight.

"I could make you laugh," he continues, quieter now. "Every day. Every night. Until death do us part, and even then, I’d haunt you just to make you laugh."

A broken little huff escapes me. "You would be an insufferable ghost."

"Yes," he agrees easily. "But I’d be yours."

I close my eyes. It is too much.

Too much.

"Satoru…"

The way his name leaves my lips feels like a plea. For him to stop. For him to continue.

For something I do not have the words for.

But Gojo just smiles, tilting his head.

"See?" he murmurs. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

I shake my head, not knowing if I want to laugh or cry.

But he doesn’t push further.

He doesn’t ask again.

He just reaches out, slow enough for me to pull away-

But I don’t.

His fingers brush my wrist, warm and steady. And in the quiet of the night, with the whole world sleeping below us-

Two lost souls finally become whole.

[nowimjustastranger]

Holy crap dude omg I just read a fic called "He'll Be Fine" by fractured_hourglass on ao3 where

Ig this is a spoiler warning ⚠️

Stanley (46'\ Grunkle Stan) falls into the bottomless pit and ends up in another dimension with a Ford who lives with Fiddleford in their institute of oddology and whose Stanley already died. This Ford (doesn't tell him his Stan is dead) promised Stanley that he would help him find the journals and get home to reopen the portal if he just 'helped him' with a project, and Stanley, sensing no deception in his eyes, agreed happily.

Ford leads him into a room, steals Fiddleford's old memory gun (he tells Stanley it's a "portal gun"), types Dimension 46'\ in it and proceeds to fire it at Stanley's head, his last words being "forgive me."

So tying this into the STCMO! AU, what if there's a dimension where Stanley dies before 419"3 Ford can get there but instead of Ford finding a Stanley to relocate to that dimension, that dimension's Stanford decides to put things into his own hands. He finds a way to kidnap a Stanley from another dimension (or another dimension's Stanley tumbles into his dimension by accident and he takes advantage of the situation) and gains their trust only so he can erase all their memories of their previous dimension?

I really want to know how Ford 419"3 would fix that mess, because even if Stanley isn't at immediate risk of dying, it's still super messed up and non-consensual. And like you said, Ford 419"3 is very meticulous about which Stanley goes to what dimension, a single mistake could mean Stanley's death. And obviously a situation like this was not done with careful planning, so while Stan's not in immediate danger he could be at risk of dying, especially when he finds out his memory was wiped and he was taken advantage of by his own brother. He might do something rash in the heat of the betrayal and anguish; something like taking his life either as a last ditch effort to get back to his home dimension or even as a twisted act of revenge against this Stanford who will have to witness his little brother die twice, the second time undeniably being his fault.

Ahhhhh please I need your input I AM REELING

I've actually read this fic and whoo boy it's a dark one!

I hate to say it, but since Ford has no intention of killing Stan, Watchdog Ford wouldn't get a notification.

[incorrectfatui]

some Fatui headcanons before we resume the quotes (some funny, some sad, some just random idk) these are all over the place but oh well Pierro: Really liked talking to Signora about magic. They both use very different kinds, but they still have similar understandings, and no one else really wants to hear him ramble

Capitano: Oblivious to romantic relationships. Thinks everyone is just really good friends.

Dottore: Got so seasick on the way to inazuma and back, that he genuinely considered never visiting again. Spent like 5 months trying to research medication against motion sickness and ended up poisoning himself. Intentionally makes mathematical mistakes in his budget reports, just to annoy Pantalone.

Columbina: can't swim.

Arlecchino: Says "I don't have a favourite child", but definitely has a favourite child. Tried making Dad jokes once and failed miserably, mostly because she didn't understand the joke herself. Sometimes forgets that most the Harbingers are immortal, so she'll have situations where she mentions researching some long dead person, only for one of the others to go "oh i knew that dude personally". Somewhat salty that she isn't hundreds of years old.

Crucabena: Her birthday is on christmas. She doesn't know what christmas is, so it doesn't matter, but she just gives off the vibe of being born in winter and I think it'd be funny. Wrote letters trying to get Neuvilette to implement the death penalty monthly, but never received a reply. Has, one more than one occasion, used Hydro not to fight, but to drown people, because she liked watching them struggle.

Clervie: her and Peruere once illegally operated an Aquabus while on a mission. Peruere may have used it to commit vehicular manslaughter. Also she made mother's day presents every year, despite them being thrown away. Tried to teach herself elemental magic, but couldn't figure it out without a teacher. Once overheard Crucabena praying to the Cryo Archon. briefly had hope that she changed for the better, only to hear "Thank you your Majesty for giving me the ability to give people hypothermia".

Lyney: Genuinely thought Arlecchino was a guy for like 3 months after being adopted. Also sometimes forgets that Freminet isn't his biological brother.

Lynette: More cat-like than Lyney. Has caught birds and eaten them raw before, but doesn't do it anymore, even though Arlecchino approves.

Freminet: More powerful than Lyney and Lynette, even if it doesn't seem like it. Doesn't have all that much control over his cryo vision yet, so he mostly uses it as a support for his claymore, instead of the other way around.

Pulcinella: Has a lot of fun calling everyone a child, even if he isn't older than them. Dottore? Unruly teenager. Scaramouche or Sandrone? Practically a toddler. Arlecchino and Childe? Babies. Only ones he doesn't do this to is Columbina and Pierro. Columbina because he's scared, Pierro because of respect.

Scaramouche: One of the only people who actually understands how Ei's Realm of Euthmiya works. Has tried to explain it to several people, including Pierro and Dottore, but get's frustrated every time because they don't understand it exactly. So overcharged with electro energy, that touching him may give you a small shockl (yes, even after Sumeru). Is actually not completely sure how his body actually works, and neither is Nahida. Dottore has a pretty level of knowlegde (although he still gets a lot of surprises), but the only one who actually understands his body completely is Ei.

Sandrone: Tried to become active in Fontainian politics at some point. Promptly fell asleep in the courtroom because she spent several all-nighters trying to complete a project of hers. Complicated feelings about Scaramouche, ranging from "I want to dissect him" to "no one understands this guy more than me, ignore the fact that we talk like once every 5 years"

Signora: Even with the cryo delusion, her body temperature runs really, really hot. Is basically a walking heater- Columbina likes using her as a portable source of warmth. Also, her blood being liquid fire is not an exaggeration- got wounded in the palace one time, only to burn down half a library.

Pantalone: Once suggested suing Raiden Ei for child support. It did not work.

Childe: Completely unaware that Arlecchino isn't the first Knave. Thinks she's immortal too. Also only figured out that Dottore has clones after about a year of being a Harbinger.

[ghostgirl-22]

Not necessarily sexual, but what if Art takes care of Patrick for once?

Patrick is upset over something cruel his father told him and wakes Art up with his sniffling. Patrick never cries so Art is immediately alarmed and tries to get him to open up. Patrick tries to mask his feelings at first, but eventually breaks down and cries into Art’s chest. They fall asleep with Patrick being the little spoon for once, wrapped in Art’s arms.

I chopped this up a lot but I think I got to the core of your ask nonnie <3 Idk why in my head I could see Patrick just being the whacky charming youngest and favorite of his parents. Forgive my typos… happy Valentine’s Day maybe I’m gonna write a valentines fic tomorrow when Valentine’s Day is over. Anyway love y’all.

TW: period typical homophobia, use of a slur, internalized homophobia, otherwise SFW.

——

Patrick does this thing where he acts like nothing gets to him. Like nothing can hurt him. For a while Art was envious because he believed the act. Now he knows better. He sees it now… the way Patrick will smile even more when his eyes are sad. The way he’ll shrug and then fidget, fingertips tapping a fragile rhythm like the physical act of it can divert the pain away. The way he goes quiet. 

Still he never saw Patrick cry before this summer. It’s their last summer break before senior year. They’ve been spending at least a few weeks together every summer since they were 12, going back and forth between each other's houses. Patrick’s summer house in Connecticut, Art’s family home in Massachusetts. It was easy. Patrick had the bigger house of course, the bigger bedroom, all the latest game systems, a tennis court. So many places on his family's estate to hang out and explore. 

Patrick’s family is a little more complex than Arts though. 

It’s no secret Patrick doesn’t get along with his older brother, Levi. Art actually doesn’t like him either. He’s ten years older then them and he’s everything that Patrick isn’t, more smarmy than charming, flashy and pretentious, lording his daddy’s money around and reminding Patrick that it’s his birth right. He’s a lawyer now and already works for their dad’s company. But all it takes is five minutes talking to their tennis loving dad to understand why Levi hates Patrick. 

“Tennis is such a beautiful game. I played for years but never came close to what you and Patrick can do on that court.” Patrick’s dad says wistfully. He would often stand courtside to watch them play in the summers.

Levi is no athlete. He doesn’t even like sports and there’s Patrick, the apple of their fathers eye because he can hit a ball with a racket. 

If Levi were less of an asshole, Art might actually relate to him. But he’s a total dick. He loves to make it known that Patrick was a ’mistake’. “Mom and dad were perfectly happy with the three of us,” he says of himself and Patrick’s older sisters one Friday night in July. 

That clearly bothered Patrick at one point but he’s used to it now. “Yeah and imagine how boring that would’ve been. One lame ass son.” Patrick mutters and Art grins. They’re eating ice cream in the oversized kitchen while Levi lingers at the wine cooler, pouring himself a glass. He watches as Patrick takes some of Art’s ice cream, his gaze cool. 

“I’d be careful if I were you Art, you know he’s a fag right?”

Art raises his eyebrows. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Patrick snaps. 

“Oh, he doesn’t know?” Levi’s eyes light up, gleefully. “Sarah caught him last weekend kissing the pool boy, the help of all people, moaning like a freak.” 

“I said shut up,” Patrick says, his voice cold. Art has never seen his cheeks turn so red before.    

Levi lets out a cruel little giggle. “Wait till dad finds out you're the fruity one. I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you, Art. You never know, you seem like his type. He might try something.” 

“I’ll fucking kill you if you say another word, fucking asshole,” Patrick shouts. 

“Don’t worry little brother, I’m sure they love butt boys in pro tennis,” Levi smirks, self satisfied in Art’s direction and takes his glass of wine back to the office where he’s been working. 

Art is tongue tied, barely able to make his brain connect to his mouth. He’s feeling all kinds of things, not even sure what half of the things he’s feeling even mean but he knows he’s furious on Patrick’s behalf. He glances at Patrick and that’s all it takes for Art to know what Levi said was true. He’s still red faced, fists clenched, staring angrily at the bowl of ice cream like it was the one who said those horrible things to him. And then he gets up and leaves the kitchen abruptly.  

“Wait Patrick,” Art says but he doesn’t stop. Art sighs and gets up following him to the bedroom. He’s several paces behind and when he gets inside Patrick has fallen to the bedroom floor, actually sobbing. Head in his hands. Art can’t believe his eyes. In all the years he’s known him, he’s never seen more than the slight sparkle when his eyes well up tears. If he didn’t before, he really fucking hates Levi now.

He gets down on his knees next to Patrick. 

“Art can you go, I need to be alone,” he mutters, chest heaving. 

“No,” Art says, he’s not sure how to do this but he wants to be there for Patrick. “He’s a fucking loser. Do you want me to beat his dweeby ass?”

Patrick sniffles a laugh and shakes his head. 

“He’s just pissed because…” Art rubs Patrick’s shoulder, a gentle pattern. “Fuck him okay I mean…” He doesn’t know what to say… or why he keeps thinking about the pool boy, Armando, tall, athletic, brown eyes, and long dark blonde hair. He looks and sounds like a surfer, but not from California but whatever beach they have in Spain. Art can’t get him out of his head for some reason. 

“It’s true,” Patrick mutters after a while looking up at him. “I think I… I do like boys.” 

Art presses his lips together, nodding. “That’s um— that’s okay, man. Uh… remember um… Calvin from the team… Calvin said he uh he kissed a guy before.” He takes a breath. He has to do better than this, but he’s starting to fixate on the color of Patrick’s eyes. He never realized how colorful they were. Now that they’re wet it’s like they sparkle. 

”I dont… I would never do anything to you… like… like what my brother was saying okay?” Patrick sniffles. 

Art swallows. God now he’s fixating on Patrick’s lips. God damn it. He needs to be fucking normal. Patrick is his best friend for crying out loud. Art wraps his arms around Patrick and closes his eyes. “Fuck him, man. He’s a homophobic asshole. If you’re gay then—”

”I’m not gay…” Patrick says softly. Art can practically feel his voice vibrating in his ear. There’s a strange familiar feeling at the base of his stomach, his instinct is to pull away but he holds on. 

“You’re not?” He doesn’t mean to sound relieved, fuck. 

“I’m bisexual,” Patrick murmurs. He pulls out of the hug and gets to his feet, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I’m just…” he laughs. “I’m a fucking mess. He’s hot and the way he was looking at me in the pool. I brought him to my room and well we just started exploring… I should’ve known we wouldn’t get any privacy here. Sarah just barged into my room and she can’t keep her fucking mouth shut. My dad is… well… I don’t fucking care.” He flops down onto his bed and takes a deep breath. 

Art crawls over on his knees. “Does he know?” 

“Not yet,” Patrick says, “but he’ll know as soon as he gets back from his business trip. Levi will make sure of that.” 

“Well,” Art crawls onto the bed and lies down next to him. “Not if we kill him first.” 

Patrick looks at him and then laughs. Art grins, happy to make him smile. He feels warm all of a sudden.  

Patrick sighs. “You want to play Mario kart?” 

“Yeah.”  

They lay down for an hour, only really chatting about the game. Patrick starts to get sleepy, it’s clear he’s still upset. He puts his controller down. Art turns off the game and settles next to him in the dark. His mind has been racing the whole time. Patrick’s never cried in front of him before so it feels like something has shifted.

“My dad isn’t gonna look at me the same,” he laughs but there’s a bitterness in it.

“You don’t… you don’t know that.” Art says gently.

“You think it’s weird, don’t you?” he rolls over to face Art.

“No,” Art says quickly. His parents had always taught him to be accepting of people’s differences. They always supported gay rights. But there was this part of Art that knew that their tolerance was only meant for other people. Unlike Patrick he was the only boy, he was expected to be traditional. 

“You’re a bad liar,” Patrick sighs. 

“I mean I think I’m just trying to process it. I had no idea and now it’s just…” Art takes a deep breath. 

“You really had no idea?”

“Well it’s not like you told me, and you…we always talk about girls.”

Patrick gazes at him. “Fair enough.”

“What’s it like?” The question just spills out of him, he can’t stop himself. 

”Hm?” 

Now it’s his turn to feel his skin heat up. Why is he so fixated on the stupid kiss? “Sorry it’s not important…never mind. I guess I just figured it’d be different then… uh never mind.”

”It’s a little different but the same in all the ways that matter,” Patrick says. He’s sniffling again. Art licks his lips and scoots closer to him. Patrick looks down, following the movement. 

“I could uh… I could show you.” 

Art thinks he’s joking and smiles, Patrick holds his gaze a little longer and Art swallows, something all too familiar suddenly thrumming through his body. But it makes no fucking sense. He can’t really be turned on by this. “You’re um… you’re serious?” 

Patrick laughs, “God,” he says, shaking his head. 

“What?” Art says. 

“Nothing, I’m a fucking mess. Can you…hold me until I fall asleep?” It’s Patrick using Art’s own words. Spoken a number of times when they were kids and he’d asked Patrick to do it in his grandmother's place when he was having trouble adjusting to boarding school.  

Patrick never told anyone about it, never even made fun of him which was surprising, considering he ribs Art about almost everything. Art isn’t sure what he’s feeling but he nods, “of course,” and lets Patrick settle into his arms. They lie in bed, Art keeping Patrick safe from the world for just a little bit. Inseparable, like two colors bleeding into each other, until they both fall asleep.  

[artisiumstudios]

EXACTLY! I mean not just the fact that it’s been 6 years, but the fact that Stanley disappeared only a few weeks after being kicked out? The amount of guilt that everyone must of felt, his father who was the one who kicked him out, his mother who stood to the side and allowed it to happen, HIS TWIN who not only let it happen (turned his back on him while his baby brother pleaded) but to a certain extent felt relief? All because of a mistake.

All they have is a car and an eyewitness saying they saw stan and some other person going to an ally and only one of them going out. But where IS the body?

Filbrick is quick to accept the fact that he’s dead, and while he feels remorseful he doesn’t really think it’s worth feeling distraught (even if secretly he is, especially after rethinking the way he treated Stan, his attempts to toughen him up where just him throwing him at the wolves)

Caryn does tried to communicate with Stan, she tries to talk to him one last time but alas if there is no spirit to actually contact it’s kinda pointless, but she’s the reason Ford still thought Stan was alive. Caryn had tried to convince ford to help her one time, and that lead him through this line of thought. Maybe Stan wasn’t actually dead, the eye witness, the lack of body, the lack of evidence, there was no way Stanley could’ve just disappeared like that! It must have been something else! Then thinking back to his mom he realizes she must not be too far off, he’s not dead but what if it was something else along the lines of magic.

He still goes to backupsmore, but this time he specializes in anomalies related to people disappearing, more specifically people disappearing and then reappearing years later as the same person and in a completely different place and time.

So when Stan comes back he’s relieved to find Stan still in the same location he last left, but can Stan say the same? Everyone has moved on without him, his parents are older, sherries baby is now a child; ford is an adult. And like you said, how can he truly believe the family who left him to fend for himself is truly happy he’s back, truly relieved that he’s alive?

Not to mention he has to cope with the fact that’s he’s lost 6 years of his life, all gone within the span of seconds, everyone has moved on and he’s still kid a young adult and looking at ford all he think is that he really didn’t need Stan to succeed.

He really was the extra Stan.

Au where 17 year old Stan freshly kicked out of home gets into an actual life vs death situation except he accidentally (either the “person he’s fighting is an anomaly or he’s near one) gets sent a few years into the future, (around the time ford would be set to graduate from college) He hadn’t had enough time to leave jersey so imagine his surprise when his car is no longer where he left it, his surprise as he tells the police what happens still bleeding only for them to stare wide eyed and make phone calls while they hold him in a separate room unable to tell him what’s going on. His surprise as his mother now sporting streaks of gray walks into the room blubbering in disbelief. His father’s usual stotic face now with raised eyebrows and surprise. A child who looks a lot like shermie when he was younger. Or when ford now bulkier and taller walks in staring at him not with the anger he saw before the curtains closed, but rather disbelief and something along the lines of relief joy and confusion.

His disbelief where his twin is now 6 years older than him and he was presumed dead after his disappearance.

We’ve heard of the time skip au, now welcome to the time jump au

[starkraivennemad]

Do You Like Me?

Mycroft Holmes looked at the paper he pulled out of his pocket in utter confusion.

He knew what it was: three-holed, loose-leaf paper. The type of paper every school-aged child was familiar with. He felt an odd sense of nostalgia simply holding the paper with its college-ruled lines. His brain began to swim with deductions:

Carefully halved -its smooth torn edge telling him the person likely used a ruler to do so.

Folded to create a square.

Wrinkled as if having been balled up to be binned but then smoothed out again.

All of that, while its own level of bafflement, was not as dumbfounding as what was written inside.

It's Valentine's Day. I like you. Do you like me?  Yes ⬜ No ⬜

It was evident the giver started on this quaint, middle-school note-writing path, realized the ridiculousness of giving him of all people such a thing, and was going to throw it away, but then changed their mind and slipped him the note anyway.

It was unsigned but Mycroft recognized the writing and could hear the voice of its author in his mind.

He has not seen him in nearly a week. How? Why NOW?

Then he recalled a conversation from a year ago.

It was the week of Valentine's Day. He and Gregory Lestrade had met for their monthly Sherlock update, which stopped being about Sherlock long ago. Gregory was recalling how he felt when, as a spotty young teen, he slipped such a note to a girl he liked but forgot to sign it. The girl in question presumed it was from another classmate that she fancied and approached him with it. The classmate, seizing the opportunity, claimed the note was his. By the time Gregory realized what had happened, he was too heartbroken and ashamed to say anything. He had not sent a Valentine again until he was married, and they both knew what happened there. Mycroft was just coming to terms with realizing he had fallen in love with Gregory and convinced himself Gregory would not be interested in him. Thus, kept his feelings to himself. He could not admit then that he would have never made that mistake were Gregory to send him such, and he would have checked off Yes. Instead, Mycroft casually mentioned he had started uni by then. Not that he thought of such things then, but he was much too young for his intellectual peers. And that same intellect had cut him off from what should be his social peers. He had not said the words, but he knew Gregory understood it meant he had never sent nor received such a thing. So, in true Mycroft fashion, he blew the whole conversation off in fierce snark about the sentiment surrounding the time of year and quickly changed the subject.

Now, a year later, Mycroft stared at the paper in his hands.

He was grateful none could see how his heart lurched, for surely could not hide his wonder.

Here he was, a grown man, a near middle-aged man at that! -receiving his very first Valentine!

For a little piece of paper, it carried a lot of weight. One he never expected to bear.

And it's from Gregory!

The enormity of what it meant! That Gregory, who would never toy with him on such a thing knowing who he is, has done this?

Could it really be that simple? To have everything by answering a Valentine?

The thought utterly gutted Mycroft.

Mycroft was not a man for romantic overtures; he simply was not. Still, he knew he had to do something.  There are only two people who could get close enough to him to deliver such and he has not seen his brother in days.

"Anthea?"

"Sir?"

Mycroft held out the note. "Please reverse the travel of today's delivery."

Anthea barely suppressed her smirk as she slipped the note into a pocket without looking at it. "Yes, sir."

Mycroft gave it two hours.

Ninety-three minutes later, his phone buzzed.

TEXT: This is faster. She or whoever was sent is good. I just found it in my pocket. –GL

It was a photo of the original note, now with Mycroft’s response added, plus another text.

It's Valentine's Day. I like you. Do you like me?  Yes ✔ No ⬜ It is MORE than like. YES ✔  

TEXT: If you could have 24 hours with me and I couldn't say no, what would we be doing? –GL

Mycroft nearly dropped his phone as far too many visuals, clean and… otherwise, suddenly crashed in his mind.

It was heady to realize what he once never dared to dream could be on the verge of becoming reality.

TEXT: Be my Valentine and find out. I’m at Diogenes. The clock will begin upon arrival. Come and kiss me. –MH

TEXT: I’ll be there in an hour, depending on traffic. –GL

“Anthea?”

“Shall I clear your schedules for today, Sir?”

Mycroft could not find it in him to even pretend annoyance at her presumptuousness; she was his aide-de-camp for a reason.

“Today and tomorrow,” he looked at his phone, “Actually -hold that thought…”

Emboldened, Mycroft sent another text.

TEXT: Can you be enticed to double the time if you’ll allow me to reverse the order? –MH

He mentally grinned at the thought of Gregory's face upon reading it. 

TEXT: Consider me enticed. I’ll be there in LESS an hour! –GL

Mycroft’s eyes playfully narrowed on a smug-looking Anthea. “Make that today, tomorrow, and the day after.”

“Of course, sir.”

=========================

Read/Comment on AO3

@flashfictionfridayofficial @mystradepromptsandscenarios @fluffbruary

[solomoniscriminallyunderrated]

**The Weight of Gold**

The House of Lamentation was eerily silent that night—a silence that crept into the corners, seeped into the walls, and settled deep in the bones like a cold that refused to be shaken. Moonlight streamed through Mammon’s bedroom window, casting elongated shadows over the disorder of magazines, scattered Grimm, and forgotten trinkets. His room, much like his life, was a chaotic collection of things that never quite managed to fill the void within him.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, his fingers trembled as they traced the chain of his pact mark. *Your* mark. The singular proof that someone had chosen him—that he was not merely a burden, a failure, a disgrace. Yet even that felt distant now, like a memory belonging to someone else.

His brothers had never truly seen him, had they? Not in the way he longed for. They saw the greed, the schemes, the mistakes. They laughed at him, scolded him, dismissed him. A joke. A liability. The Avatar of Greed—always taking, always wanting, yet never worthy of having. And you—you had changed things, if only for a while. But even your warmth couldn’t silence the voices that whispered relentlessly in his mind:

*You’re nothing without them.*

*They don’t need you.*

*You’re just another screw-up.*

His grip tightened around the cool metal in his palm—a single coin. One of many he had clung to as if material wealth could compensate for what he truly lacked: love, acceptance, a place where he belonged without having to prove himself. He let out a shaky breath and allowed the coin to slip through his fingers, listening to the soft *clink* as it hit the floor.

Would his brothers even notice his absence? Or would they assume he was out gambling again, entangling himself in yet another mess that Lucifer would have to clean up? Maybe they’d be relieved. Maybe they’d be angry. Maybe, just maybe, they’d finally see him for who he truly was beneath the bravado and the lies.

A failure.

A shadow flickered at the door.

"Mammon?"

Your voice. Gentle. Uncertain. The only thing in this world that had ever truly felt like home.

His breath hitched, his grip loosening. And for the first time in a long time, he hesitated.

You stood in the doorway, bathed in the dim silver light spilling from the hall. Your expression was hesitant, worried—like you had already sensed something was wrong through the bond of your pact. Mammon didn’t look at you at first. His head hung low, white hair shielding his eyes, his shoulders rigid as if bracing for another scolding. That was what he was accustomed to, after all. Disappointment. Frustration. The crushing weight of never being enough.

But your voice was different. It wasn’t sharp like Lucifer’s or mocking like Levi’s. It wasn’t dismissive like Satan’s when he grew tired of Mammon’s antics. It was… soft. Gentle, as though one wrong word might shatter him.

"Mammon," you said again, stepping into the room, your movements deliberate and careful. "What’s going on?"

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Tch. Why ya even askin’? Nothin’ new. Just the usual, y’know? The Great Mammon bein’ a screw-up. Bein’ the family’s big, stupid joke." His voice wavered on the last word, and he despised how weak he sounded. He clenched his fists, willing the trembling to stop. "What, ya here to tell me to get my act together? To quit wastin’ Grimm and embarrassing Lucifer?"

You frowned, stepping closer. "No," you said simply. "I’m here because I’m worried about you."

Mammon flinched, his entire body tensing as if unsure how to process those words.

You closed the distance, kneeling before him, your hands resting gently over his clenched fists. He went rigid at the contact, as though he wasn’t sure he deserved to be touched. His knuckles were white, fingers gripping something so tightly they shook. Your gaze dropped to his palm—to the gold coin he had let slip earlier. His good luck charm. His last gamble.

"Mammon," you murmured, even softer this time. "Talk to me. Please."

His jaw tightened. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to let the dam break, because once it did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop it. But then, unexpectedly, you reached up and cupped his face, tilting his head so he had no choice but to meet your gaze.

And just like that, the dam shattered.

His breath hitched, and before he could stop himself, the tears began to fall. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was futile. A sob tore through him, raw and aching, and suddenly he was clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him from unraveling entirely. His hands fisted in your clothes, desperate, grasping.

"I—I don’t…" His voice cracked. "I dunno how ta keep goin’. I try, I really do, but—but they always look at me like I’m nothin’. Like I ain’t worth a damn." His body trembled against yours, each word breaking something deep inside him. "And I keep thinkin’—maybe they’re right. Maybe I am just… just some useless, greedy idiot who ain’t never gonna be enough."

You held him tighter. "That’s not true," you whispered, steady even as your own heart ached. "Mammon, that’s not true."

His breath hitched. "Then why… why don’t they ever see me?"

You had no answer. You wished you did. Wished you could undo years of loneliness, of neglect. But you couldn’t change the past. You couldn’t rewrite the way his brothers treated him, the way he saw himself.

But you *could* be here now.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, brushing away his tears. "I see you," you said, and the words hung in the space between you like something sacred. "I see *you*, Mammon. And I’m not going anywhere."

His breath caught. He searched your face, looking for the lie, the joke—the inevitable rejection. But there was nothing there except sincerity. Warmth. You.

He clung to your words like a lifeline, his body still trembling from the weight of emotions he had buried for centuries. Yet there was something else now—something fragile, something he feared naming.

Hope.

You didn’t let go. You simply stayed, fingers still tangled in his hair, your breath warm against his damp skin. He should have felt ashamed. The Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed, reduced to tears in your arms. But you didn’t mock him. You didn’t call him weak. You just held him. And that—more than anything—terrified him.

Because how long could something like this last? How long before you realized he wasn’t worth saving?

"I don’t know how ta stop feelin’ like this," he admitted finally, voice hoarse.

You squeezed his hand, still wrapped around the coin. "Then we’ll figure it out together."

A shaky breath. A pause. And then, at last, the smallest nod.

The weight of gold was nothing compared to the weight of love freely given. And for the first time, Mammon let himself hold onto it.

[sunofpandora]

     V I R A G O

CHAPTER 6:

She was a bird, I was an arrow

✮⋆»»———➤⋆.˚꩜ ˙⋆ ☀︎  ✮⋆»»———➤⋆.˚꩜ ˙⋆ ☀︎  

Neteyam x fem na’vi!omaticaya!reader

Characters:

Ka’lik- (like you would pronounce “Malik”) Y/n’s father/deceased

Zensira-deceased, Y/n’s mother, spider's adoptive mother

Kailo-(Y/n’s ikran. Your ikran is a male)

WARNINGS: panic attack, blood, heights, sexual assault???(Kyuna being touchy) attempts of undressing someone? (Again, Kyuna.)

☾✮⋆»»———➤⋆.˚꩜ ˙⋆ ☀︎  ☾✮⋆»»———➤

Neteyam POV:

When I was 15 I fell in love.

I fell in love with a girl made of moonlight and stars stitched together by sirenic hymns of pulsed passion. 

She left loose curls in her braids and had bruised knees from climbing. She has auriferous, harvest moon eyes that glow viridescent when the night untangles itself from its resting place, aligned imperfectly with her stellified sunset-tinted soul. 

I started by bringing her little things.

Flowers. Crystals. Herbs for various uses to share with her family. She danced at clan ceremonies, immune to the curse of incoordination. Her dark hair swung behind her, braids woven out of pieces of the night. She was a wild child. Running through rivers and daring to drive herself through the dullness of the dirt.

I knew that she never met her grandmother, but she wore the river pearl necklace that once belonged to her.

I knew that she loved swimming, and never really talked about how good she was at it.

I knew that she kept the dried petals from the little dolls her mother would make her out of flowers as a child and hung them above her hammock in her family's tent.

I knew that she made her first kill with a bow and arrow when she was 4. And that the tip of that very arrowhead was tied on her song chord to mark the occasion.

I knew that she was worried. Worried about me, about the human boy she called her brother, about her home, and her people, her parents who were still healing from the first war.

But I loved what I didn’t understand. That was my first mistake.

Because my whole life has been about being the older brother. When she gave me the gift of feeling like a child again, I suppose I thought I could leave her like one. 

And I know that sounds stupid. I know I sound stupid. 

It wasn’t immaturity I craved. It was that lightness. The kind that the sun could never provide.

That stupid, stupid boy. If I could grab him and shake him by his shoulders until his brain repositioned itself into the right place, I would.

There was an addicting absurdity to it all. 

Running through the forest with her after dark, whispering her name in the night while my hands traced her spine, leaving lazy, open kisses on her ribcage and spinning her around with her legs caught around my waist. Dragging my fingers along her pulse point. Feeling her breath flicker in the firelight of the stars. I never dared to do anything beyond kissing her and holding her. So perhaps that boy isn’t as stupid as I thought.

I slept with her. Not like that, though. Actually sleeping. The kind where your clothes remained on. The first time it happened was when I stumbled to find her by the creek, where she was weaving a basket for her mother. I was so exhausted from training i collapsed my head into her lap while she stroked my back. 

Sometimes I kissed her neck, the expanse of her throat where I swore I saw heaven hollowed within. I ran my hands over the sweet homage of her thighs. 

There was a freedom with her I felt with no one else. Then the world felt too big, my heart created corners that only fit her shape. When the air became knotted and my breath spilled from my lungs in sporadic bouts of blemished air, she blessed me with a barrier of bliss. I thought I was so deserving of that decompression. I was an idiot to think it wasn’t a privilege. 

Some nights we’d sit on the thickened tree branches of the pandora oak outside the old village.

She’d lean her head on my shoulder and i’d tell her the English names of the constellations my father taught me.

“What’s that one?”

She whispered, pointing with the tip of her finger and tracing the shape of the asterism, eywa knows I couldn’t look away from the stars in her eyes, an opalescence embedded like a sea mirroring the night’s contents, and suddenly I saw two skies. 

“Its called the archer.” I hummed, gently guiding her wrist to place her hand atop the shaft of the bow caught in the cosmos.

“See? There’s her bow, and her arrow, and her body.”

She tilted her head, attempting to see the shape. Her eyes light up when she finds it.

I smile, a warmth spreads within my chest as my enamourment echoes through the dusk.

“My father says some people on earth started calling it a ‘virago’.”

She nods in acknowledgment, glancing between me and the stars.

Those were the nights I hope she can remember. Those are the nights I pray i never forget.

But sometimes the shadows loom instead of live. The world around me started breaking down into fragments that figmented themselves drunk on delirium. Because having my mother’s eyes doesn’t mean i’m free of my father’s gaze. 

I was afraid of control. My second mistake was becoming accustomed to it.

But my chance with that fiery girl is gone. I’ll bury it. So I don’t have to look at it. So no one has to look at it. Because she deserves so much better than to chase fireflies for the rest of her life. 

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the night the sky turned red. 

My father and mother had left for date night. I was home with Lo’ak, Kiri, and Y/n who as babysitting Tuk while her parents went to gather herbs.

We didn’t speak to one another. It was too awkward. I clung to silence like it was a sustenance for my survival. 

Our parents had been gone for a few hours when we saw it. 

A new star surfaced in the sky, tearing through the dark viciously. Sparing nothing in its path of annihilation. 

An unfamiliar sort of fear fell upon Norm and Max’s face as they exited their shack at the sound of commotion. Their smiles faded so fast they might as well have never been there in the first place.

Kiri shrunk away slowly to an unknown place of hiding. As if trying to shield herself from the threatening presence of this bolide.

lo’ak dropped the bracelet he was making, the beads landing on the ground with scattered sounds of clanking and chaos.

Tuk ran to y/n, a panicked descry leaving her as she took refuge in her arms. Y/n held Tuk protectively. Her expression was notated by one of horror.

Me? I froze. The world stopped spinning. The moon refused to shine. The earth had withered away under my feet.

I was dazed as I followed my siblings into our families tent, I remember Norm’s words as he ushered us inside, trying to mask his panic.

“Kids, get inside- c’mon quickly.

Tuk, let’s play a game. Okay? Tuck your knees to your chest and don’t move until I come back.”

The world was falling apart.

And I couldn’t even see my last glimpse of it beyond the cloth quarters of the home I grew up in. That’s how you trap yourself.  You convince yourself your cage is just an illusion. 

When my parents returned home later, Y/n sprinted to them, asking frantically if they had seen her parents return.

“They haven’t yet returned?”

When my mother spoke those words, the air tensed.

I watched helplessly as she ran to her ikran, mounting it with no time to waste.

I reached for her arm, stammering out pleas for her to stay. Stay close to the stars that sent the shadows of the endless dusk desolating any shred of hope. Without them i’d surely loose her in the darkness. Stay in the light, please. Stay where I can see you. Where I know you are safe. Where I know they can’t take another.  Stay where every moment was inscribed to instinct. Where every moment of my life is a piece of a plan. A plot. Every word is scripted. And even if you were never a part of it I can still keep your eyes in my life.

Stay with me. Please. I don’t know what’s out there and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.

She hissed at me with tears in her eyes, shaky hands pushing me away as she mounted Kailo with irascible mannerisms. 

Behind it all was a little girl who just wanted to find her mom and dad.

I envy her. I envy her ability to not cower from the darkness. 

To stand where others couldn't see. 

My father chased after Y/n. Determined to bring her and her parents back in one piece. Promising my mother she wouldn’t loose anyone else she was close too.

But sometimes we can’t keep our promises. 

I waited with my mother and my siblings. 

I watched my mother pray. Clutching my grandmother’s hand close to her chest. Murmuring invocations to the wind.  My mother couldn’t stall away the anxious inquisitiveness of Tuk, complying with her to shut herself away from the sharp helix-scarred sky, victim to fire and ruin. 

“Wait inside, Tuk.”

That’s all anyone would tell her. 

Lo’ak sat coiled in the corner. Staring infront of him as if the air was dissolving into fragments filmed in glass, shattering into pieces.

He was silent. Still. But he was like my father in that way. A master of disassociation. When you stayed so rooted in solitude the world around you ceased its spinning. 

Kiri prayed in my grandmother’s tent. Isolating herself.

What more can you do when what you thought were stories of the past resurrect from devastation?

History was cruel. Our biggest mistake was thinking the future would forget.

Would it forgive? Would it tread this demolition generously? Would it spare my mother from losing a sister for teh second time?  Would it let my father laugh just a bit longer? Let him remain unpunished. Maybe in a world where the heart on his sleeve isn’t in the shape of a shackle. Where the shadows of his past sins remain silent. When ‘sir’ wasn’t a synonym for ‘dad’.

Please.  Let my littlest sister play in the forest after dark again. Chasing winged insects and dancing to heartbeats. Let her feel the solace of safety and the freedom of frolicking in the flower fields without fear of the sky demons. Don’t make her grow up knowing war. Give her a world where I don't have to explain that Dad still loves Lo’ak and me even after yelling at us. 

Don’t take my little brother's light away. Don’t shy him away from me. let me see the spark flicker in his eyes when he would look up at me. Bring back the days of chasing him around and having our heights measured next to each other. Childhood memories of keeping him occupied with stories while he squirmed on my mother's lap, getting his hair rebraided. Back when I was his sibling. Not his shadow. Now I can’t find it when my existence is the pinnacle of excellence that’s dangled over his head. To fall as the burning star while he damns me in the daylight of the sun. Days when my father's words to Lo’ak were filled with tender devotion, and not deadlines and demands and disappointment. Look at him. Please. Don’t turn your attention into a privilege. 

And Kiri. Oh kiri. Please. Don’t twist her story. Don’t write my sister’s mother into the enemy. Don’t make the sleeping body she yearns to touch beyond her hand pressed to cold glass awake in darkness only to say goodbye. The only place solace is found for Kiri, the only place she can hear her voice within the deep forest. Don’t resurrect Grace’s memory and taint it.

Please don’t hurt the girl I’m in love with. Please don’t banish the stars in her sky to the depths of the hollowed and hardened corridors of her heart.  What must I do to protect her? Tell me, and tell me now. I’m running out of time. Do i look her in her eyes and tell her that every breath i take is for her? Every half-note of my heartbeat is a syllable in her name. I know I failed her. I know. And im sorry. I’m so, so sorry. 

I paced around the tent, watching Tuk play with her toys in the corner, waiting for any sign of return. 

When the shadow and the screech of my father’s ikran, the rising sun rushing currents of a blinding white light leaking through the overlay of the trees, crashed into the sounds shaping themselves into shards, slicing through the air.

My father had his arm thrown over y/n’s shoulder, locking her in place against his chest, she crouched on the front of his ikran, shaking and thrashing.

His other hand gripped his ikran saddle like a vice, struggling to keep both him and Y/n upright in flight.

The moment the touch down to the village y/n all but collapses to the ground, slipping out of my fathers grasp.

He curses, jumping off and scrambling to hold her. A low wail leaves y/n as she claws and scratches at her own skin, clutching what looks like the remnants of a songchord in her hand.

No sign of her parents. That only meant the worst.

It hits me like a blow to my chest, creeping up my spine like vines of plants from hell and tying me down to the earth, roots caging me in, the world around me clawing to come inside.

Everything around me blurs. The ground under me shifts with the wind. The patterns reverse and the sound waves reshape themselves behind shadows.

Light is refracted, captured in a dome of reflections. My mother is the first to sprint towards the pair. Her steps slowly traipsed down as she registered the absence of Zensira and Kai’lik.

The sight of Y/n clutching a bloodied song chord shattered any ounce of hope she had.

My mother sobbed into her palm, rushing towards Y/n to grasp at her shoulders, desperately trying to keep her close, as if the sky demons would rip her straight out of her arms.

My grandmother jogs over, trying to cage her daughter in her arms and gradually pull her away, giving Y/n the much-needed space. 

My father has tears in his eyes.

He doesn’t dare let them fall. Not in front of his clan. His children.

My father is a master of disassociation. Confrontation was never a confidant of my fathers. Lock him in a room with him and his own grief and watch him fall apart.

He's angry. Angry at the world. Angry at himself. Angry at this piece of his past he prayed he’d never see again.

Lo’ak drops frantically, taking a place behind y/n and my father, trying to speak to her in hushed tones that are washed out by her cries. Lo’ak isn’t good with these kinds of things. But he cares for her. He struggles with the placement of his hands momentarily, settling to rub her back soothingly.

Tuk pushes past the crowd forming in the distance, and scampering behind me,  gently placing her palm on my leg and tugging on my fingertips.

“What's wrong? Whys’ everyone crying?”

I don’t answer. I can’t answer. I can’t even look at her. I’m still. I’m frozen. I’m useless.

She winces at the sound of more wailing, pushing herself to stand in front of my father.

I know I should speak. Tell Tuk to go back inside. Away from the screaming and the crying. That’s what older siblings do. I feel her small fingers slip away from mine and suddenly my skin feels as if it's unraveling.

I don’t think yesterday existed.

Because just yesterday I saw Y/n and her parents, with Spider and with the clan. Just yesterday the sky was blue. Today it dawns a sickening shade of orange.  The sky dissevered and swallowed it whole before it could even breathe. 

How can it change so fast? Did it slip away from me? Maybe I didn’t hold on to it tight enough. Please, my love. I’m sorry. Can’t you see I’m sorry? Please hold onto me again and I swear I'll never let you go again. 

I look at Y/n again, still trying to pry herself out of my father’s grasp. One hand clutches her forearm and digs and scratches her fingers into the flesh so manically it draws blood. Her other hand clawing at the dirt. She starts to hyperventilate as my father panics.

“Breathe Y/n.  You have to breathe. Please.” My father’s voice is hoarse and desperate. The world is spinning to fast for him meanwhile mine ceases to spin at all. 

Or maybe that’s incorrect. My world was right infront of me. Crying and breathing as if her lungs denied her existence.

Tuk’s whimpering catches his attention, his ears pin down as he grapples with the idea of his youngest baring witness to such tragedy. 

Then those frantic golden eyes that mirror my own focus on me.

“Neteyam! Take your sister inside. Now! go! “

I can’t. I’m stuck. Why am i stuck? Iv’e always been the first to act. The first to speak, to advocate, to defend.

What will happen to my clan? To my family? Can we win again? Will we win again? Are we as strong as we were during the first war?

“Neteyam! Get Tuk and move!”

My fathers voice is drowned by the swirling thoughts in my head.

My father places Y’n beside Lo’ak, who immediately wraps an arm around her to keep her upright.

“Dad!”

Loa’k calls after him as he files towards me. His voice cracks. 

He scoops tuk up with one arm, using his other to grab my arm, dragging us both into the tent, pushing us inside with all the gentleness he could manage.

“Stay with your sisters and your mother. Please.”

He breathes before leaving, returning to Y/n.

My mother is sobbing in the corner, Kiri at her side with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Grandmother tries to calm them both.

“Eywa why? Why has the past come back to us?”

She curls herself into a fetal position as she cries out as if she's in physical pain.

Tuk starts to cry.

The earth is weeping and my family is shattered. The love of my life is left in a starless night sky.

Can the sun shine in the dusk?

✮⋆»»———➤⋆.˚꩜ ˙⋆ ☀︎  ☾✮⋆»»———➤⋆.˚꩜ ˙⋆ ☀︎  ☾✮⋆»»———➤

“If you can’t smell the fletching you aren’t doing it right.”

Y/n smacks my chest for the 8th time that hour. My lessons with her had finally begun, per my father’s orders.

And after thinking about it, i’m grateful my father chose me for this position. so what if I enjoy spending time with her? And I can’t say I despise hearing her make demands and orders and instructions.

Is that weird? Am I weird for that?

She sighed in frustration, staring at me like the hopeless case i was.

“Really? you have these freakishly big arms and no posture.” 

I frown, patting my bicep pitifully.

“They’re called muscles.”

“Then use them. Straighten up.”

She elbows me in the ribs. 

I take a breath, tracing her slightly faded form with my peripheral vision as I prepare to be denied of her essence in my line of sight, even for just a moment as she steps behind me. 

I correct my stance, shooting the arrow as it flies through the woven targets shes created and tied to the tree.

She examines my shot, running her fingers over the painted circle and where my arrow has skewered itself embed. It was perfect. Right at the center.

“Better.”

She affirms, yanking it out of the target and tossing it to my feet.

“We have to practice angles. Its clear you can shoot a bow, quite well at that. But it’s different when you’re transitioning into targets that are at sky-level with you.”

Today, she trains me to become an archer like her and my mother, to learn the skills to eventually shoot down sky demon ships.

I reach behind me to let my bow hang on my back, the string brushing my torso.

“Will the transition take long?”

She shurgs.

“It depends. It’s different from using a bow on foot or on a direhorse, even on ikran from low distances. It’s not like sturmbeast hunting. The rush, the wind, the air, it all screams at you while you shoot from the sky. The last thing you want is to be fumbling around for an arrow while a gunned ship chases you.”

She speaks absentmindedly as she gathers the targets from the tree, untying the  ropeshes used to secure them.

I smile to myself, watching the way her hands work around the intricate knots she’s created.

“I’m a fast learner. I’m sure I’ll catch on.”

She scoffs, looking over her shoulder.

“Don’t shower me with proclamations, I’m confident in your archery skills. It's the change of pace that’ll become an impediment.”

I think sometimes Y/n assumes I harbor this overabundance of cockiness. I don’t. I never have. But i guess that’s what happens when you’re is away from someone for a long time. You forget.

Her gaze explores the thickened grass woven into a makeshift target as she starts to pile them into the big pouch she brought them in. The air around us spreads and forms an exterior of foreign feelings. I don’t reject the atmosphere it provides.

Treading lightly, I slowly take a step towards her.

“You are a good teacher.”

I say matter-of-factly. I’m stalling. I don’t want my time with her to end.

She scoffs, refusing to spare me a glance.

“I’m a terrible teacher, I’m a good shot and I order other warriors around when your father wants me to. People see that and assume my teaching skills are just as good.”

I shrug, leaning against a tree, reaching out to take the sack off her hands for a moment. She gave me it reluctantly. She takes a seat on the tree stump, tossing her head back before looking back at me, waving her hand in a downward motion.

“Sit for a moment. It’s important to rest your muscles after training. There’s nothing worse than straining your shooting arm.”

I huff out a quiet laugh. I sink against the tree across from her. “Well if you insist.”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t. But the cramps you’ll avoid in your biceps arms definitely do.”

I watch as her fingers trace the curvature of the arrowhead, the sun sliced over the ridges in the small objects surface, rounding over the curves and patterns in the stone.

“How would you feel about heading back without me?”

She asks; not even glancing at me as she opens her water flask, taking a few sips out of it and cursing quietky when she tilts the pouch too far back and some water spills down her chin to her neck, the unwelcomed sudden sensation making her shudder.

She hands me the flask, offering some water but all i can do is gawk at her words.

“To high camp? No. We should stay together.”

I shake my head, gently declining her offer of water and muttering a thank you.

It’s her turn to gawk now. Staring at me as if i have three tails.

“I have my bow.”

She gestures to the weapon next to her, the curved wood carved with patterns and bright beads and feathers adorining it.

“I’ll be fine on my own.”

I know she hates beinhg chaperoned or supervised. So i allow the sounds of the forest to symphonize while i devise something to respond with. The sewn sky is torn at the seams as clouds creep by. Something with feathers moves in the distant canopy. 

“Why? Don’t you want to return with me?”

It’s not you. I just don’t want to go home yet.”

“Than who is it?”

She’s quiet for a moment, fidgeting with her songchord to busy her hands.

“Spider.”

That was honestly the last thing I expceted to hear.

By the time Spider could walk-

Well, really, i doubt the guy ever went through a ‘first steps’ phase. He probably just started running. 

By the time he could preform some kind of motion with his legs that incorporated standing up and getting him from one place to another, Y/n’s parents had pretty much accepted him as their child.

That was his ticket to having the full na’vi child experience. He had a songchord, a bow, was taught the history of the clan through stories and songs. He loved them, and mourned them when their time came. Y/n and him have always been close, and since the past tragedy, it’s not hard to say that they’ve fought to keep eachother in their lives. Especially when my parents ushered y/n to live with our family, and leaving spider with norm and max. Because whether others believe spider belongs with our people or not, she’s never known a world where he’s not there. It’s a scale that shouldn’t be tipped. One will surely loose balance without the other.

I blink, sitting up as my head cocks to the side.

“Spider? Why? What did he do?”

IS it wrong for me to assume spider is the one at fault for whatever quarrel is proceeding?

No. At least i don’t think so. I actually think it’s pretty fair.

She groans, running her palms down her face, the skin under her eyes being dragged downwards under her fingertips.

“He’s just so- and then he- and he just- and he-”

She shakes her fists furiously as if shes strangling something invisible.

I wince.

“I don’t think that will improve his current situation with the air on this planet.”

“I’m ready to take the mask and shove it where it won’t see air again.”

“Woah there.”

She sighs roughly, absently throwing a small rock into a bush.

“Why doesn’t he ever think before doing stupid shit?”

“Well the shit wouldn’t be stupid if it was properly considred.”

She mumbles to herself, waving me off.

I place my hand on the stump next to me to shift myself to lean back against the tree further.

“Y/n, I know things can be rough with siblings. Trust me, i know. But-”

“Can i tell you something that will sound horrible?”

My sentence is stifled as she hinders it with her quiet, rueful words.

I fumble for my next words.

“Uh yeah. Yes. yes of course.”

I wave my palm towards her in a stupidly clumsy ‘the floor is yours’ motion.

When someone wants to vent, count on me to turn the atmosphere into one of an addiction confrontation. 

But my eywa, she wants to talk to me about her problems. ME! Not lo’ak, but me!  Does that mean she trusts me?

She looks down, the light spills down through the overbush of the trees, casting a hazy halo upon her figure, golden-crested shadows flirt with her azure skin. The sunlight feels shallow today. Melancholic and hollow. The sun is silenced as it slips behind a cloud. Buried beneath a grey eclipse.

“He’s not one of us. He’s my family but he’s not the same as me, not even the same species. but he wasn’t-” 

She hesitates.

“His people were never suppose to come here. To this planet. He can’t run as fast as us, fall from heights where we can and just come out unscathed, he’s not as big, as strong, as durable and adaptable as us! He’s not a na’vi! And as much as i wish I could make that his reality, I can use all the blue paint in the world and It won’t make him as tall as me. I can’t-.”

Her voice cracks at the endnotes, it’s only noticeable if you listened closely.  it makes my ears pin back, itching to aid this burden.

“I can’t keep drawing circles around him and begging him to stay inside of them.”

Sometimes soulmates aren’t lovers. They’re siblings. Tied at the roots.  Whether they were related by blood or not, they carried a piece of eachother. Even when the world tears them apart, that piece binds that root back to common ground. Energy is only borrowed. And one day, you’re gonna have to give it back.

If i were to loose Tuk, Lo’ak, or Kiri, the energy we’ve shared would circle back to where it started. And that root would retreat back to it’s spiral shape. That’s what life entails at the center of your circle. You would die for your siblings at the end of the day, and if they take the shapes of stars you search for them in the lengths of the sky.

Her tail coils around her ankle, poking at the bracelet that circled around the skin.

“Y/n, we can’t protect them forever.”

She curls herself into a ball, letting her weight drag her to the ground so that she lays bundled, her arms locked around her knees. Groaning and hissing loudly.

“I don’t want to protect him forever i just want him to stop trying to kill himself.”

“I don’t think that’s his intention, Y/n..”

I poke at her back, attempting to push her upwards with my palm so that she doesn’t faceplant in the dirt.

She mumbles, And if I was anything but a foot farther away I probably couldn’t hear her.

“When we were children he was so small… small-brained…And now he's still small, but bigger..but still fucking smaller than me..but he’s older…”

“..and?”

“His brain hasn’t gotten any fucking bigger. I’m going to take up alcoholism.”

“Please don’t.” I sigh, 

“You can’t stop me. I’m going to drink until I forget.”

Oh how beautifully eloquent she is when shes loosing all sense of sanity...

“Y/n, he lives in the same camp as us. You’re going to wake up and remember.”

I rock my knuckles against her spine, still trying to have her body avoid the fresh dirt.

She stares into the cup of her palm. My eyes catches glimpses of the shadows kept sacred in the corridors of the covers that cover her body, the dip of her hips, the drag of her nape, the cinch of her waist, the plush of her thighs and stomach. She’s soft right now. Her muscles aren’t tensed and her stomach isn’t lined.

I’m quiet as i stare at my shins, my fingertips brushing against her other hand.

“Do you remember the other night, when we all talked about scars?”

Her tail flicks, signaling that even if she wasn’t looking at me, i knew she was listening.

“Scars are symbols. They stay with us wherever we go, reminding us of where we’v e been, how we’ve gotten there..how we survived.”

I stare up at the trees, my eyes catching the shapes casting shadows over the leaves.

“Well, I’ve been thinking that some scars don’t appear over time, sometimes we’re born with them.

Her muscles tense and she pensively clutches at her song chord. I almost take it as a sign for me to just shut up. But i can’t. The words just seem to find me.

“You..”

I stare at her. My gaze tracing lines over the patterns imprinted into her back. Somedays i think pieces of her essence are torn from the scars, blemishes, bruises, and slight discolorations that stretch across her skin. Bruises that overlap ultraviolet hues darkened into navy nights, blemishes that I swear are just painstrokes from outer space, shapes imitate cosmic rays and lunar surfaces, opulent nebulae and collisions of stars that would surely cower before her.

She is made out of pieces of the universe.

Salvageable stretches of sunlight. Crystal blue, sun-kissed acquiescence of July. Cherished adventures stained in ink delight

Refusing to wither away even when seasons change and when snow i’ve never seen turns to falling stars. 

Violent sunsets, whispers, and the oceans start to sink. I consider myself equally submerged.

“You are just..so strong. You’ve always been responsible for him. You both have grown up under the same roof, you can find that common ground. You both share that circle. Those scars from your experiences..you both can’t escape that.”

Silence settles between us, my arm drapes over my propped up leg.

“It’s not wrong of you to say he doesn’t belong here. Because there’s truth to that. Our home was never meant for his kind, and maybe it never will be.

But if i know one thing, I know that he belongs with you. You’ve stood on that common ground with him through what might as well have been an earthquake, but you’re still here. He owes you that.”

She shakes her head, sitting up quickly, her words catch in her throat.

“But that’s exactly where i seem trapped. He doesn’t owe me. It’s my job, it’s my own commitment! When my parents were still around i swore to stay by his side.”

“You were no older than 6 when you probably grasped the idea that he was there in your home to take the place of a sibling. Y/n, you didn’t swear anything. I wish you wouldn’t bind yourself to this idea-”

“I’m not binded to anything. I am proud to protect my people.”

“Someone once asked me if i’m so busy protecting everyone else, who protects me.”

She stills. Surprised that i’m quoting her.

When the world becomes a sword, she became a shield.

She purses her lips, tugging on a braid that rests over her shoulder.

“That’s different.”

I laugh. Not because its funny. Because its ironic.

“How? You, me, and two dumb, reckless siblings to look after. Lo’ak and spider aren’t that different. Suppose that means neither are we.”

She leans back, her head roughly resting on the bark.

I take a breath, leaning back with her.

“Letting go of that bind doesn’t mean giving up.” I whispered. Staring up at the sky, watching as it creeped and treaded towards a crepuscular cape.

“I know”

She whispered, leaning her head opposite of my direction to rests on her shoulder.

“But he’s all i have left.”

She rasps, looking downwards once again.

My fingers brush hers. I try to focus my eyes on anything but her. The burnished bronze bark shades of the forest around me grapples with my gaze.

I know she hates pity.

A fleeting fracture, half exposed, and bare. Bones shaking under scared skin stretched over a blanket of shame. I think weakness is her greatest enemy. Vulnerability is nothing but a pallid guise of weakness’ tide. In obdurate grace, She stands elate. I’m nothing more than a shadow in the corner of her storms.

She’s an ocean I fear is too vast to cross. I've let myself drown before. 

“Y/n. I’m so sorry.”

I whisper. But as apologetic as I am, I can’t decide what I’m apologizing for.

Her parents being dead?

Her crippling fear of losing what fragile pieces of her family she had left?

The specters of her lost, an elegy of ceaseless pain. It forces me to remember I'm presumably forgotten, along with the stars and the sky I once promised i’d give her. 

As the sky grew a bit darker. We sat in a silence that danced with serenity.

the clouds like shredded silk, tinged with the delicate hues of a bruise that would never fade.

It was me she trusted in this moment. Not Lo’ak coming in clutch with bad jokes or my father with years of experience I can only pray I’d amount to earn. 

Me. Who’s soul took the shape of a shadow that loomed in the darker corners of her heart.

What did I do to deserve this?

As I look at her now-, Y/n.

The y/n.

the woman who had walked through infernos that would have incinerated lesser souls, whose spirit had been forged in the crucible of war, who bore scars both visible and unseen. Her eyes, shadowed by a thousand skies and golden eclipses, had softened now, their fierce gleam dimmed for a brief moment of vulnerability, her very presence carrying the weight of bereavment.

The sky and I share a flicker of breath, as though it too understood the gravity of the moment.

I want to capture her words with my hands, catch them. 

These words of hers, the ones I can only beg to hear once again, alike the essence of something rare and blackened, with sorrow yet magnificent in its pain. She spoke of battles fought not just against the sky demons, but against creatures that lurked in the recesses of her mind, devouring fragments of her peace. The blood she had spilled is not foreign but it rots all the same.

At the cost of being blunt, it fucking pisses me off. Beyond that if I can ever find the words.

How could they-

No. How could anyone hurt her? 

How could anyone take what they’ve taken from her and continue to reach for what precious circle of family she had left?

How could anyone—any hand—have so defiled such sanctity? faceless figures, cowards. Fighting from far away in the sky ships that stir the wind and attempt poorly to glide upon air that was never even theirs to breathe.  

I want to be the shield that keeps her safe, and at from the storms that sweep her away and leave her with scars.

I don’t want to watch her fight for the rest of my life-

Please. I don’t want her to fight for the rest of hers.

Is this where I have to stay? Is this where I have to wait? 

I am consumed by an ardor so profound it defies the very essence of language.

No. No, I'm done waiting.

I’ve dispensed myself in my mistakes for 3 years. I may never entirely forgive myself for what I’ve done to her, but I refuse to keep drowning myself in it. 

I want to live. Not survive off her faint glances and light touches.

No I want her. I want her back and I want her to be mine.

How could I ever think I could move on? That I could outgrow her? The thought of any other woman in the clan-

No, any other female known to this ground, to want any of them the way I want her, it’s wrong. It’s unnatural. A parallel that threads like a citadel, a monument of sinew and steel, fissures spider webbing beneath My skin, cracks through which light might enter or shatter me under her touch.

And eywa, I’m tired of it. I’m so fucking tired of it. How much longer will I be consumed by this need that cannot be satiated by any other presence other than hers?

I want to hear her laugh again. I want to hold her again. I want to kiss her neck and trace my palms down the curve of her waist and her thighs. I want to hear her call my name breathless into the darkness while I capture her moans with my lips and watch her hair spill through my fingers. 

I want to hold her hand. I want to kiss her until I can’t breathe. I want to feel the weight of her on top of me and under me and her legs wrapped around my waist. 

If she allowed me I would beg her on my knees. I would kiss her ankles up to her hairline and whisper apologies that sound more like worship.  

I want her to pull me away. I want to drown in her.

Can she possibly know? Her absence is not a void but a presence—vast, unbearable, and omnipotent—filling every crevice of thought, every trembling nerve that dares to remember. Her voice lingers in the silence, a phantom melody that unspools endlessly. she might as well be a rope to my wrists, tightening like a noose.

I don’t s resist her.  Even torment is preferable to the sterility of forgetting, to the annihilation of what remains of her in me.

How could she possibly not understand? The things I would do for her?

I would crawl through dirt and dust and call it scared ground if she so much as stepped there. What is love if not worship and what is yearning if not devotion?

Because she’s so beautiful. She’s pretty. She’s gorgeous. She’s perfect. She’s every word I can think of and all the words I’ve yet to learn.

So much so it’s almost otherworldly. i stand before like a penitent before an altar that will never grant me absolution. if this longing is a sickness in my soul, i'm going to cherish it because it's hers. 

Watch as she unmakes me.  Slowly, exquisitely—dismantling my pride, my reason, my very humanity, until nothing remains but the hollow echo of her name. And I  would call that emptiness sacred. 

If anger is what she needs so be it. betray me, despise me, reduce me to carrion before her feet.

Must I weep for gratitude? for even in degradation?  Done.

I will wait.

“I don’t like just waiting here.” The silence that had once reigned was shattered. Unveiling the world anew, pulling the soul from its slumber. I’m shaken awake from my momet of zoning away. It doesn’t take me long too realize it was Y/n’s voice. Well obviously- who else could it have been? the tree?

“Huh? I’m sorry- did you speak?”

She squints at me. Her eyes flicker before she stands to her feet.

“I said I don’t like this waiting. I should have never suggested it. I’m sorry.” 

She brushes herself off before grabbing her bow and the woven bag of targets, slinging her bow to tuck under her arm and the sack over her shoulder. I scramble to my feet, grabbing my own bow and water skin. 

“It was stupid of me to try to avoid this- i’m just gonna talk to spider when i get back.”

She mumbles.

“Oh- wait. Eywa you’re fast.”

I chuckle awkwardly. All she can do is toss me a blank glance over her shoulder. She moved swiftly, not making much if any sound.

I stop infornt of her, reaching out to offer her my free arms to carry the bag.

“Do you need-”

“No. lets get moving. I want to get you back before dark or else your father will have a heart attack scare.”

She cuts me off, swaying past me and onto the path where ouyr ikrans perched somehwre ahead.

“You know-”

I jog behind her, casually steadying myself to match her pace.

“You know my father doesn’t need to know where i am every second of the day.”

She shrugs.

“And yet, he does.”

Touche. 

Brush it off Neteyam.  I mean, how bad would it really be if the woman you were in love with saw you as nothing but a marionette tethered pathetically to his father?

Oh. That sounds worse than i thought.

Easy fix? Right? …Right?

“He’s just looking out for you.”

She enlightens, with a quiet precision, each word a steady beat, unadorned by excess or hesitation.

My whole life i've wanted people to see past the shadow of my father. But now i’m begging her to. 

 Why can’t she see the me that has shaped with my own hands, not inherited or molded by the past. 

I riven between the maddening urge to captivate and the harrowing awareness of my own profound inadequacy. She, an indomitable presence, even though i've known her since she was learning to walk, is still so fascinatingly intimidating. 

“I don’t-”

I stumble over a branch. Was it a branch? It could have been a root or a rock. Whatever it was. I lurch forward before unevenly shifting, then I awkwardly brushed it off, pretending it hadn’t happened.

She stops and stares at me. Painfully unimpressed with my lack of attention to the ground.

I clear my throat, trying not to wince.

“I don’t need him to look after me.”

She shrugs, walking ahead of me without much thought. “Well of course not. Look at how gracefully you coordinated that fall.”

“I didn’t fall.”

“Are you calling me blind.”

“No part of my body other then my feet touched the ground. That’s not a fall. It’s a…stammer.”

I cross my arms, suddenly my gaze finds interest in the bright colors that crowd a herb patch near by.

“Oh and what a beautiful stammer it was.”

She rolls her eyes, effortlessly shifting everything in her arms to only one side as she raises two fingers to her lips and create a whistle sound.

I see a shape of something winged and large in the distance. A cacophony of  colors and  jagged lines, and abstract forms are layered atop one another, intermingling and overlapping in a way that feels both disorienting and captivating

The sounds of flapping wings resonate from afar, an unseen presence demands attention by echoing the sound of it’s arrival. Kailo lands first, followed by rey’sa. 

Kailo was larger than the average ikran. That’s what Norm told us the night after Y/n’s ikinimya.

I still remember that day. Watching her dodge and duck away from the literal jaws of death on the ikran rookery. I saw her, and in that fleeting moment, my soul seemed to abandon me, leaving flesh frozen as I watched her plummet off the cliff side. My heart might as well have been ripped from my chest. It felt as though stricken with some fatal malady, ceased to beat. A dire, unshakable certainty gripped me—that she was gone. as good as dead. That she had slipped from the grasp of light.  

Kailo’s colors seem to pulsate with a tumultuous vibrancy. Bold and garish in their audacity, writhe and clash which burn with an almost sacrilegious intensity, to the shrieking blues and grotesque purple, the hues seem to scream at the beholder, drowning the senses in a discordance of visual tumult. 

 a gnawing sense of impotence. They spill, uncontained, stretching and sprawling, as though in the midst of some violent outpouring of emotion or thought. Jagged, fractured red lines pierce the air, juxtaposed by sweeping curves, both jagged and fluid in their simultaneous grace and aggression.

The spread of red, blue, and purple creates a  furor of colors, intermingling and overlapping in a way that feels both disorienting and captivating.

My eyes, without any conscious volition, as if led by some hidden magnetism, gravitated toward Rey’sa. Her brown, green, and yellow skin clash in a manic strife. The splashes of brown are deep and earthbound. It pushes it’s weight against the lighter, more volatile green, incessant, and vibrant, it twists and coils in unruly shapes, as though struggling to break free from the heavy grasp of the brown. Meanwhile, the yellow flashes like a burst of lightning, crackling with energy.

She shakes her head back in forth in a quick wild nutation before tiltidng her head towards me, a high noted-shrill leaving her as if informing me of her arrival.

I give her neck a few pats, tightening my saddle with one hand while I throw myself to straddle atop, hiking up my leg and shifting in a slight jump.

Y/n doesn’t mount until she secures the targets and her bow in her side saddle, handling it with the utmost care. As if parting with it was akin to severing a vital thread that tied her soul to her body.

There was a quiet dominion everywhere she went. Trailing her steps. In her orbit, the air became sanctified. Her back straight as if someone held a board to it to ensure it never faletered from it’s position.

I mount rey’sa after ensuring everything was fastened. I reach back for my kuru. The movements to connect my kuru to my ikran are so unmistakably ingrained. Practiced and performed to a point of cognitive habituation. 

The moment I see the cords connect, I feel it.

The traverse vast expanse between us thinning into a network that flows effortlessly, a seamless exchange of synapses that make the sound of sensitive reverberations.  It’s an undercurrent of synergistic sensations.

I shake my head to clear up the swift headrush that swept through when making the bond, my vision clearing almost instantly.

I turn to my side, seeing y/n already staring at the sky with a quiet resolve.

“I’m going to talk to him when we get back.”

She looks at her hands, they almost bruise with how tightly she grips the reigns. Her gaze is suffused in a promise that I feel proud to say she only shares with me.

“Good.you two should work things out.”

She nods, shifting, adjusting her legs.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

She shrugs.

“Talking sense into me.”

I laugh. But I don’t mean to. It’s accidental. It echoes between us

“Nothing makes sense when you have stupid reckless people like Lo’ak or spider in your life.”

If only she knew things only ever made sense when I was with her.

₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆☾⁺☀︎₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆☾⁺☀︎₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊

NETEYAM POV; back at high camp..

When we arrived back at high camp, I watched y/n run off to wherever spider was, leaving me alone to return the targets to the supply tent.

I should have told her right there and then. Why didn’t I? 

I linger in my self-pity for only a moment, then steady myself, refocusing on the task at hand. I start putting the targets back and their respective places. Behind me, the faint sound of a new presence disrupts the silence.

 The steps are quiet, as if treading.

“Finally, Lo’ak. Come help me put these away.”

I wave him over without turning my head

“Guess again..”

I jump. In all the year’s iv’e lived with Lo’ak, Iv’e never known him to have a voice so feminine sounding.

I turn, and I feel my breath leave my body in a flicker.

Kyuna stands in front of the tent flap, with one methodical move she uses her finger to tie the drawstring of the flap closed, the sudden lack of light making this whole endeavor even more horrifying.

 her presence lingers, a silken thread weaving through the space between us.

“My eywa, you’re so jumpy, Teyam.”

Here’s a fun fact. No one in the entire clan I’ve been born and raised in, calls me ‘teyam’ other than my siblings and occasionally my mother. The sobriquet came about when Lo’ak was about 3, and had trouble pronouncing “Neteyam”. Net or Teyam was his go-to. Honestly I never understood how hard it was to just push the two together but anyways,

When Kyuna uses its imbued with a sense of familiarity and ease, felt unmerited. A familiarity that hasn’t been earned. Much less deserved.

Is it fair? To say something as simple as a shortened version of my own name to be so intimate?  

My subconscious drive takes the shape of a marionette. Instinctively moving me backwards the split second she steps forward, her chest invading what I’m positive marks the starting point of “personal space.”

It’s almost like my body repulses the idea of touching her in any way that could even immediately be seen as intimate.

“I finally caught you alone. You’re always so busy..”

She makes her fingers mimic a walking motion as they trail up my chest, neck, before tapping my nose.

I clear my throat, grabbing her wrist and gently placing it back at her side.

“Kyuna this doesn’t seem very-“

“Oh shut up! You’re always so worried about everything. Can you ever let loose?”

She laughs, almost manically, trying despairingly to make her constant interruption seem cute or innocent.

”speaking of loose.”

My eyes flicker down to where she hooks a finger under the waistband of my knife, pulling me closer to her. almost trying to pry her way between where the woven strip of fabric keeps my loincloth resting on my hips.

My eyes widen.

“Nope! Okay! That’s just- nope. No. We are not. I’m going to remain clothed. Thank you..”

I push her away by her shoulders this time.

She Rolls her eyes.

“You’re so stiff sometimes”.

Stiff. Interesting choice of words.

As she bats her eyelashes at me and pouts, I can’t decide whether I feel sad or sorry for her. Or both. Is my attention worth all this? Does she think this is attractive?

Unfortunately, I don't think I have the patience to indulge her.

“Kyuna this is not-“

I sigh, running a hand down my face. Frustrated at what part of that incredibly, small brain in her head thinks that this is okay??

“Kyuna you can’t be doing this. I don’t want to be seen as someone who sneaks around with anyone like this.”

“No one has to know.”

“Right! Because nothing is happening here.”

I speak slowly, as if trying to explain to a small child, holding her hands as I place them down at her sides once again.

“I. Don’t. Want. This.”

I reiterate.

She throws her hands up in frustration, groaning loudly.

“Then what do you want, Neteyam? You never tell or do anything that shows it!”

I raise my eyebrow, quietly standing and watching her tantrum.

A part of me does finally feel coerced into pity. Why did she obsess over this? Over me?

“Women throw themselves at you! They practically drool over you and you don’t even blink! It’s like you don’t care.”

She continues.

“Do you think the whole playing “hard to get” and the “I don’t care” facade will last forever? Because I see right through it.” 

She pokes my chest, making me step back once again, my hand behind me resting on the wooden pillar that held the tent up. My fingers anxiously and absently tracing the grooves in the smooth wood.

“There’s something or someone  you want. “

“Kyuna, if you are so fixated on there being someone, do you honestly believe, in your heart, that it’s you?”

“Why cant it be?”

“I’m not saying it can’t be, I'm telling you it’s not!”

“Look at you! You won’t even touch me. You’re probably just shy?”

“I’m ‘shy’ because I wont have sex with you inside this tent? Sure. let's put it that way.”

I turn my back to her, starting to pile up the targets and untie the hanging cord around each one. Maybe if I act like she’s not there, she’ll disappear. 

There's a pulse of silence before i feel a hand on my shoulder, sending a shrilling shudder down my spine.

“Let’s not dance around this Neteyam.”

She snakes to duck underneath me, placing herself to occupy the very small space between me and the wall, her nose nearly touching mine, I feel her breath for only a shred of a second before I flinch the other way.

“You can’t keep running from this.”

“Yes, I can. The question is, will you stop chasing me.”

 "I won't stop chasing what I know belongs to me."

It’s unnerving. How her tone treads that unmistakable subtle possessiveness. That’s how Kyuna works. In her mind, you belong to her whether she realizes it or not. This is how she plays the game. Shifts the board, moves the pieces while you're not looking, and when you turn around, she tries to convince you that it was you who can’t remember what you did with your pieces.

I know where my pieces are. They’re my fucking pieces. Not hers.

“I want you”

She declares.

“No, you want something no one else has.”

I reason.

“No You don’t understand-”

“Something no one else has, but I can’t satisfy that for you-”

Our voices overlap.

“I love you.”

“You love the idea of me.”

Maybe I really do feel sorry for her.

“Can you really think of anyone else in this clan that would be a better wife for you other than me?? They wouldn’t last.”

Nevermind. I’m annoyed again.

“Is it fun? Thinking you’re better than everyone else?”

I query.

“No. Thinking isn’t fun. Knowing is my forte.”

Ah, so she doesn't enjoy thinking. What a shocker.

“Ever since the return of the sky people we’ve been weakened.”

I raise my brow, my face furrowing into something new.

“I don’t follow.”

“Don’t you see it? They only dwell in the past, we’re too afraid to fight the way we used to. We’ve all heard the stories. Our clan used to be ruthless. Feared by others. Now we’re just an afterthought. We’re afraid. But you, once you’re olo’eyktan you could change that, And i could help.”

She speaks, and the sound—that sound—is as if some unfortunate hand struck an untuned instrument, a mere echo of what it could have been. A cruel, discordant note that rends the stillness of the soul.

She is like a child playing a game whose rules she cannot understand, and whose consequences she cannot foresee. But the pain, the pain is real. It is deep, it is sharp, it is unspoken. And yet, she speaks again, and again, with the same ignorance. 

Maybe I'm offended because it was all real to me.

Watching my mother wake up crying in the middle of the night plagued with memories of hometree was real.

Watching the love of my life lose her family because of the sky people’s destruction, that was real.

Standing here right now while they dangle our survival over our heads is real.

“I suggest you quit while you’re stepping ahead, Kyuna, You don’t know what you speak of.”

My former tone vanished, replaced by a gravity that demanded attention.

She looks embarrassed. And why wouldn’t she be?

She stammers, fidgeting with one of her braids.

“I was only- you don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t. Do you think I’m impressed by this?

I don’t know what comes over me. Anger? Frustration? Annoyance.

I take a step closer, than another, until she’s pedaling backwards to remain ahead of me.

“Do you think this is attractive? Impressive? Do you think this is the kind of thing I yearn for at night? Stupidity? Ignorance? Do you think I get off on this? On you? Because I can promise you I don't.”

She gulps.

My father once told me that fear controls people.

I vowed to never fall victim to that again. Controlling others. I did it once and I lost the love of my life.

But maybe, control was potential. So was power. And if I have to shape my shadow into something scary and unapologetic to cast away such intrusive presences like hers? I’d justify it.

“Neteyam, I didn’t mean-“

She reaches for my arm, and I’m beyond tired of her touching me.

“Get out, Kyuna. I’m dismissing you.”

“But-“

“Out. Now.”

She stands in silence before turning to leave.

I feel my chest tighten its knot of air I didn’t even know was there until she’s out of my sight.

I don’t like pulling rank on people. But am I so terrible if I say that felt good??

I take a breath, steadying myself. Whatever just happened I could unpack later.

Right now, I allowed myself to be busy with the task at hand.

My sense of peace vanished once again when I saw a figure enter the tent out of the corner of my eye.

Can’t she take a hint?

“For the love of eywa!”

I groan.

“I’m not going to have sex with you! What do you want from me!? Just keep it  in your fucking loincloth and-“

I turn around to see my father staring at me in horror.

“Dad?“

₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆☾⁺☀︎₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆☾⁺☀︎₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆☾⁺

Y/ns Pov:

you shouldn’t be nervous to talk to someone you’ve  known my whole entire life and yet a more insidious, gnawing sensation sears at the back of your mind.

Maybe it’s guilt you feel. because the last time you spoke you brought up the past we both wish we could forget.

It was an unspoken rule between us. Not to bring up your mother. 

It was never a spoken pact.  Youboth knew all too well what happened with grief was left untouched. It hardens into something immutable.

 you care about each other too much to put yourselves through that pain again.

You think the sky is sinking. The darker it became the more it seemed to cave downward. Maybe if you climbed a tree you could brush your fingertips against the stars and hear them whisper words of comfort.

You were a warrior. A “lieutenant” as Jake would call you.  You had an invitingly strange familiarity to challenges. 

Why did the feeling you had right now akin itself to the one you have before a raid?

Every step you take feels closer to the fire. 

You grabbed the metal railing and hoisted yourself up to the wooden platform, ignoring the stairs made for human sized feet. 

Ducking under the small door you felt the back of your neck brush the  cool metal.

No matter how many times you’ve been in the shack, entering it always felt like a fever dream. The white and gray that washed the walls were such a huge contrast to the natural shades that hued pandora’s grounds. It had a way of making you feel empty. Like the crowded space could seep into a pit dwelling portal.

You treaded carefully, minding your anxiously swishing tail and praying that it wouldn’t be the cause of a beaker or something irreplaceable shattering.

Max and norm come into view.  They sit at a table hunched over a flat board that sits between them. The board has little white and black boxes and pieces that all differ in size and shape. They scatter across the board, stilling in their place, waiting to be moved.

Norm’s eyes light up as he laughs manically, grabbing a black piece by the curved top and shifting it to one of the white pieces, knocking it over with a swift flick and taking the spot the white piece once inhabited.

“Have fun doing my dishes for a week.”

“You’ve been spending too much time in your avatar, you've finally lost it. You know I'm winning, right?

“Don’t even think for one second you haven’t been shoving pieces in your pocket every time I get up for coffee.”

Max scoffs.

“You’re a caffeine addict.”

“And you’re a cheater!”

“Those are fighting words, I’d watch myself.”

“Then empty your pockets! Come on! If you have nothing to hide.”

“What’s in a man’s lab coat is his own damn business!”

You stand awkwardly, exaggerating a cough to emphasize your presence.

Their heads snap towards you and every trace of frustration and theatrical betrayal vanish.

“Oh hey Kiddo.”

Norm waves, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. Max follows behind him, cracking his back with a groan before smiling at you with a warm familiarity.

You stand awkwardly greeting the two with respectful nods.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Oh no, never, You caught us at a good time.”

Max waves away the notion of apology from the air, 

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Norm leans against the wall, grabbing a spare mask made for avatars and reaching out his hand to offer it to you.

You shake your hand, gently pushing the mask away.

“I’m not staying long.Is spider around?”

“He's outside.”

The three of you jump a bit at the sounds of footsteps above you, thick metallic thuds echo from the outside.

“Oh. well, now he’s up..side?” Norm gestures to the roof where spider’s evident movement was heard.

“Oh son of a- he’s gonna tear his stitches. That’s like the 5th time in the last 4 days.”

Max groaned, running to grab a med kit that sat on a table in the corner.

“I_..I can go let him know you guys don’t want him climbing?”

Your tail thwacks your shoulder blades. An exemplary allude of nervousness.

Norm nods, folding up the black and white squared board that laid flat on the table.

“That’d be great, he listens to you.”

You exited the shack without words, looking up at the slightly slanted roof and metal poles that curved embed with the shape. You jumped, hoisting yourself up over the awkward overhang before sitting atop it. You paused when two dangling pale legs came into view, you crawled over the next curve and were met with Spider’s back.

You froze for a moment. 

Because it’s just now you realize that you thought the anticipation was what intimidated you. Just the walk from your ikran to the shack itself like like an unendruable trek towards something unmapped. Uncharted.

Your clan glorified you because they cannot see the contrast within recklessness and bravery.

To everyone around you, you were never afraid of the unknown. Dancing where others struggled to stand on uneven ground. Danger was an adventure. Not an intimidation. In a sky devoid of light you never feared the dark. 

The wait was never what you should have feared. The uncertainty, in the silent torment of your thoughts was a comfort you’ve taken forgranted.

Because now you have to face him. 

You can’t pretend to be made of stone forever. Eventually you’ll break like glass. 

You reach your hand out, tapping his shoulders.

“Spider.”

His name comes out hoarse. The two syllables sound as if they had to pry thesmelves from the depths of your throat.

He turns around, and you can’t get yourself to meet his eyes. They settle in his lap, and you see his knife and a sharpening tool resting there.

“Hey.”

He whispered, turning around to face you. He places the knife and sharpening tool in a pouch resting on his hip.

There's an awkward silence as you both turn to face the edge of the mountain where only a few marui’s scattered and stopped where the natural stone barrier of highcamp enclosed you all inside. 

Your breath hitches as your eyes follow two na’vi children running around playing a game, tackling each other and screeching.

And for a moment, for a fragment of a second, you swear you see you and spider.

“Norm and Max don’t want you up here.”

You say it unintentionally. But you needed something to fill the space between you. The silence demanded too much of your attention.

Spider glances over at you, swinging his feet absentmindedly.

“Yeah..I know. I just-”

He tugs at his locs lightly.

“I don’t know. I can’t think with my feet on the ground.”

Really? You never would have guessed.

“I think we should talk.”

“About what?”

You look at him, wondering if he’s forgotten your argument.

He squints at you before his gaze settles on the ground.

“Oh. That.”

“Did you forget.”

He shook his head.

“No. I tried though.”

Silence strikes again. Suffocating the expanse of what pressed between you two. It’s an oppressive hum of the unendurable truth that is heavy and refuses to remain unacknowledged. 

“I’m sorry, I was an asshole. I know you were just worried and-”

He paused.

“No. Let’s start with this. 

Y/n you’re the strongest person I know.

You’re intelligent and badass and a warrior. And I love that about you. But I remember a time where you’re life didn’t revolve around this war. And sometimes I feel like- part of why you put yourself into that position to protect me…I don’t want you going out and risking you’re life because I’m weak and small and-“

“You’re not weak.”

You cut him off. The edge of your voice makd his hands stop their fidgeting.

“You’re not weak. You’re just not like us.”

You expect hi to flinch or scowl when you say that but he does nothing of the sort. There’s a sadness behind his eyes shadowed by the long ignored truth.

You sigh, staring back up at the dark sky.

“We can paint as many layers and shades of blue as we can and it still can’t hide what’s underneath.”

“Yeah. A sky demon.”

He mumbles quietly.

“A product of mistakes that someone else made.”

You correct.

He's silent, he stares ahead.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

You nod, swaying your feet in a rhythm that matches his own.

“If we both were to climb a tree and throw ourselves off the highest branches, who would have a better chance of lesser injury. You, or me?”

Spider is quiet in his response. Almost embarrassed.

“You.”

“Which one of us can run faster?”

He rolls his eyes subtly, shoving you softly with his palm.

“You.”

“Who has more knowledge about the sky demons and their weaknesses.”

“Me?”

You both pause . You smile and nudge him back.

“That doesn’t make either of us stronger or weaker from the other. We’re different. But there is no difference that can divide what has grown between us, spider.”

He finally looks at you.

“I never should have brought up sa’nok. It was wrong.”

You whispered

For a moment you both slip to the center of your spiral. The center that was slowly unraveling to reveal a pain you both could wish never existed.

“But that is our common ground. We were raised under the same roof, in the same family.”

He leans his head on your shoulder, and the motion makes your still, your spine stiffening.

It’s not unwelcomed. Just unexpected. 

“When they died I thought that they would separate us.”

Pain and fear is heard in his voice. And Jake says you and Lo’ak are a trouble making duo? You’ve clearly never met pain and fear. Two wretched companions that gnaw at the marrow of every shred of hope. It's the shadow that stalks even in the most mundane of moments. 

“They vouched for me. Even when the rest of the clan said I didn't belong with a family.”

“I don't care what the rest of the clan thinks.”

You affirm.

Spider blinks at you. Seemingly shocked.

“But they’re your people.”

“So are you!”

You toss your head back and groan, taking your frustrations out on the sky.

“Why does everyone else get to tell me who I love? Who do I choose to protect and value as my own?”

Spider is quiet. He goes to answer, but nothing comes out.

“I don’t know.” he whispers. 

“I don’t know either. Listen, no one gets to tell us that we aren’t family. Family isn’t always who you share blood with. 

I may not have lived with you continuously throughout my life, but I would die for you at the end of the day. You’re my family because I remember playing with you in the river and chasing you down the stream. You’re my brother because I remember staying beside you even when other children said you being in my home meant that we shared your ‘human germs’.”

He stares at you. You can’t  decipher what he’s thinking.

“Why should anyone else decide what you are to me?”

“Neytiri can.”

Spider interjects. Her name isn’t resentful in his voice, it’s rather longing for something distant. Something he’s never had.

You look down. Regretful.

“I can’t change the way she thinks about humans. She’s just afraid, and shes protective of her family-”

“I know that. But she’s also protective of you. And I don’t hate you for it. But-”

He stops. Staring down at his hands as if they are stained with something you can’t see.

“But what?”

You inquire gently, like trying to coax a shy child to speak.

“I’m gonna sound like such an asshole if I say it.”

You snort. 

“It’s okay. I felt the same way earlier.”

He takes a breath.

“It’s not fair. They were parents to both of us. But you're the one taken in after they die. They would never do that to me. Because I'm not a na’vi.”

“Spider, I know it feels like that but they aren’t abandoning you for some sort of vengeance-

My- our mother and neytiri were like sisters. Jake and our parents were close. They promised that if anything happened to either of them they would step up for me.”

“No. They promised to step up to take any children she had under their wing.”

“Spider…”

“I’m not mad at you. It’s just frustrating. You get off at the easy lane while I'm going 90 miles to nothin’ off a cliff.”

And there it was again. That sting.

“Easy lane? Did you think this, any of this was easy for me? Having neytiri and mo’at braid my hair the way our mother would? Having jake accidentally call me “Zensira” for the first few months by accident? That day we had to leave the old village and come to high camp, the day I walked past the home we grew up in for a final time? Saying a last goodbye to the place where every moment of laughter, every memory, every fragment of joy I've known in my life feel so empty? So dark and cold?”

Spider shakes his head frantically.

“No! No of course not, we both lost something that day. I remember it too..It’s just..They’re there for you. You know?”

“I'm here for you.”

You reiterate. Almost desperate. At this moment you felt like a spider and you were onlookers into a mirror where he refused to acknowledge that you could both see your reflection upon the same surface.

“Iv’e been here. I’m staying here. So is Lo’ak, and kiri, tuk, norm, and max-”

You stop mid sentence as you remember what was scractching at the back of your brain.

“Oh by the way, max told me to tell you to stop tearing your stitches.”

You both are quiet. And then you laugh. You both laugh hard. And you nor him really know why.

As the laughter dies down he rests his head on your shoulder, whispering into the air.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

What were you both sorry for? Everything. Nothing. Somethings. Because this is where you both surrender. Even while you both remain tainted with the bitter aftertaste of unresolved tension, you withdrew, but not in peace—no, it was more like the calm that precedes a storm, an uneasy lull where the heart strains against its own quietude.

You both were stronger than what or whoever came between you. That was a fact.

₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆☾⁺☀︎₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆☾⁺☀︎₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆☾⁺☀︎₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊

*emerges from my cave*

Hehe..hi…long time no see, huh?

Now before you throw the pitchforks at me, I can explain my delay of this chapter. For those of you who have read my bio, you already know I’m a film student. In the next few weeks me and a group of my classmates are going to start shooting a film entirely directed, produced, and written by us. I’m the art director and getting ready to travel (we’re filming in another location) has made me so busy…on another note I had to rewrite this chapter almost 5 times because it never came out right until now.

But, allow us to move on a happier note…

 Happy Valentine’s Day and Black history month guys! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. 

Neteyam and Y/n have finally started they’re training sessions, so buckle up for more tension to come. And FINALLY! Spider and y/n are back on speaking terms. Phew. (This will not be the last argument they have in this story 😚)  

Writing for Kyuna is so funny. Like, take a hint please shawty. He don’t want you. Ugh. It's desperation for me. And we left off on a cliffhanger with Jake and Neteyam? That will be an interesting conversation for next chapter..hm..ANYWAYSSS I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

btw for my arcane watchers, do neteyam and y/n give you guys ekko and jinx vibes??

₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆☾⁺☀︎₊₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊

TAGLIST!

@fluorynn (THIS ONE’S FOR YOU FYNE SHYTE)

@mntx666

@isnt-itstrange @thebestrouge

@bay7let

@fairuzwhat

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

@satesatesate2009

@OstargirlO

@heavenlysstuff

@dayyzlol

@iheartamajiki

@fluorynn

@bakugouswaif

@eljaynosine-triphosphate

@mojo-jojo-1

@strongheartneteyam

@hungrynessforfics

@ravenxx888

@teyamsgirlx

@notsaelty

@eywaite 

@love7buggy

I love you all! Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

[starry-bi-sky]

Out of Context Stuff for a Danyal Al Ghul au i haven't posted - Pit Beast Danyal

Damian, 13: Look, Danyal, -- I am so sorry for everything that happened between us in the League, I hope you can forgive me.

Danny, 10 (allegedly): (has been secretly plotting to murder Damian this whole time, is still gonna do it obvs, but is going to make it significantly less painful now)

Danny: I-- of course, older brother. :]

--------

Bruce: what do you have there, Damian?

Damian:

Danny: (a hulking 10ft pit beast standing beside him, growling idly with ram horns gouging out his eyes and a second set of horns jutting into the air, spines down his back, and a long, spiked tail with an animalistic, skull-like face)

Damian, who smuggled him in (they've made amends): a smoothie, father

----------

Damian: this is my little brother Danyal, i murdered him when he was five. He festered in rage for the last half-a decade, took over a League mountain base in Switzerland, murdered everyone inside and then tried to murder me when I went to investigate with Drake.

Danny: hello!

Damian: we're cool now

----------

Damian: thoughts on resurrection

Danny, (a full ghost): i will succeed in murdering you if you try it

Damian: we'll put a pin in it then

----------

Danny (still instilled with League values): why don't we just murder him??

Damian, on patrol (Danny followed him): we don't murder people, Danyal

Danyal:,,,,are you sick, Dami?? Have you been possessed? Why not!?

(There is raucous laughing through the comms)

----------

Danny, five, pre-death: Dami! :D

Danny, dead, vengeful: Older brother (:

Danny, post-forgiveness: Dami! :]

-------

For some actual context: Danny is fully dead in this au, its a result of the classic DPxDC Demon Twins "death duel" trope but instead of Danny getting revived, he stays fully dead. Danny was five, Damian was seven. His ghost lingered though, and due to the proximity of the pits his ghost steadily absorbed the ambient energy it was letting off. The pits are not corrupted ectoplasm in this au, it's just liquid ecto.

Which means Danny's corruption from an angry and hurt little ghost boy to an unrecognizable monster is from his own doing. It's a result of him stewing in his hurt and anger for years, it physically warped him. He's very powerful. Danny can travel between League Bases but chose a small, out-of-the-way base in the Swiss mountains to fester in and then just. Never Left.

His influence steeped into the very foundations of the building, allowing him to transform and warp the rooms and hallways for his own bidding, Meaning he could turn it into a seemingly unending labyrinth if he so wished to, and block the entrance.

Eventually, blinded (both metaphorically and physically) by his own rage, Danny grew powerful enough to appear physically in the living realm and attacked everyone in the base, slaughtering them all and leaving the base abandoned. He attacks anyone who dares enter -- whether that be other league members, or the unfortunate hiker who stumbled across the base. His conscious is steeped into every nook and cranny of the building, there is nowhere you can hide where he can't find. Nobody leaves without his explicit say so. Nobody ever does.

Him appearing as ten years old before Damian in the skits above is his own physical doing. First it was to prevent Damian from being suspicious of him. Damian initially thought Danny was revived with the pits, he was too busy with his own training afterwards to notice that Danny never showed up again, and when he did notice, he assumed it was because Danny was too ashamed of his loss to face him. He'd always forget to ask about him.

Then it becomes a personal choice to appear as ten. It's how old he would've been had he been alive.

danny forgiving Damian is kinda for an offshoot branch of the main au. Whereas the main au takes the form of a ps4 first person horror game where Damian and Tim are investigating the Base for Plot Reasons. There's no sign of the rumored "monster" living inside until the end, where Danny, who was found inside the Base and has been happily "helping" them look around, manages to persuade Damian into splitting off from Tim in order to "show him something."

This something turns out to be Danny revealing that he never really forgave Damian for that fight, and he reveals through a horrifying transformation, that he was the monster the whole time. Which the game subtly hints at throughout as Danny's strange behavior becomes harder to ignore.

First from his insistence to only refer to Damian as "older brother" (when before the duel he always called him Damian or Dami), to him right off the bat denying the existence of a monster when questioned. ("There's no monster here, older brother. It's just me.") To other various things, like his knowledge of the outside world not matching up to modern times or things going on with the league outside of the base, or what happened to the other league members.

This whole idea was inspired by the song "Scylla" from Epic the Musical, with Danyal being the voice of Scylla as well as Odysseus, while Damian stands as Eurylochus. The instrumentals after Scylla says "hello" is him turning into the pit beast, and Scylla's "drown in your sorrow and fears" part is danny, as the pit beast, snarling at Damian while he attacks him.

There's a Good Ending, a Bad Ending, and a True Ending. The Bad Ending results in Damian being killed by Danny, it happens when Damian decides not to question or suspect Danny and treats him kindly. The Bad Ending is a cutscene, where Danny kills Damian quick and painlessly.

Meanwhile the Good Ending is Damian killing Danny. This is a boss fight, and it happens when Damian treats Danny coldly and suspiciously the whole time. Danny as a result, decides to make Damian's death painful as he had planned to, which is why it's a boss fight because it only causes him to double down on his anger.

The True Ending is Damian escapes with Tim. It happens when you treat Danny warmly up until the last minute, where when Danny proposes to Damian that he wants to show him something, Damian goes to talk to Tim and finally, reluctantly agrees that something is off with Danny, and that he'll be careful going in. It starts off with the boss fight until a third through, where it then changes to a cutscene where Tim manages to get the door open and Damian escapes out. It's then a chase scene down a never-ending hallway as the building actively works to keep you trapped inside. But you eventually make it to the exit so long as you avoid all the projectiles and doors.

Remember when I mentioned that Danny only lets people leave when he wants them to? That's where the treating Danny kindly throughout the game comes into play. It causes him to second guess himself and, eventually, reawaken and strengthen the love and admiration he had for Damian prior to his murder. It's why in the Bad Ending he kills Damian quickly -- because by then, he loves him enough that he doesn't want him to suffer, but is still so consumed by his rage and need for vengeance that he kills him anyways. That quiet part is what allows Damian (and Tim) to find the exit, because some part of Danny still loves Damian enough that he wants him to live.

The True Ending ends with a cutscene of Damian and Tim tumbling out into the snow/grass outside of the base. Damian looks up back to the entrance to see Danny standing there. But rather than a ten year old boy, there's a little five year old Danyal Al Ghul instead. He stares at Damian emotionlessly, blood seeping from his chest, staining his clothes, and little, bloody sword in his hands and tearstains on his cheeks, before he turns away and disappears back into the building.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

so REVENGE, HUH? or justice, if that makes you feel better. it tastes the same when cooked just right. 'I REALLY WANTED A BROTHER.' such a shame to burn a bridge you so desperately wanted to keep, especially when it wasnt even you who started the fire. especially when you hope that not a single fragment of that bridge ever washes ashore.[MAY IT ROT FAR FROM MY SIGHTS] an unfortunate loss! atleast he has his friends.

[jankwritten]

I will never be normal about Ox and Gordo’s relationship actually. Thinking about them makes me insane. Like imagine being abandoned by everyone you love everyone all at once they’re all dead or gone across the country or fucking banished to prison and they left you alone, ON PURPOSE, and you can’t do a damn thing about it because if you leave you abandon your home, their home, you lise what feels people you have left and is it even worth it when they left you so easily and

There’s a little kid hiding behind his fathers knees and he’s never had root beer and you watch him grow into this intense strange boy who doesn’t understand that his father isn’t coming home his father left him and god don’t you know how that feels and you watch him learn his way around a car and you remember the man who taught you who gave you a chance who listened when you said what was wrong and

He needs a job and you’re the only one who cares so you help, god, of course you help, you can’t let him or his mom lose what little they have left so you let him work for you under the table, he doesn’t need to but he demands it even though you paid off their debt as soon as he asked. It’s the money of those fuckers who abandoned you, anyway, and Ox needs it Ox and Maggie need it and

He’s everything to you he’s your son your brother your life and he’s fifteen and he’s your fucking tether, he keeps you human, and you think finally, finally you’re healing. You both had shit dads who dealt you shit cards but you’ve got each other and you don’t need anyone else and

Then they come back and it’s not for you. They come back and they don’t even speak to you.

But they speak to him. To Ox.

They need him. Just like they needed you when you were barely a teenager when your father leveled that town when he killed your mom when you had to become their witch because the pack needed it your Alpha needed it because Thomas-

But Ox chooses them, over and over. You try to make him understand that they’ll only use him and hurt him and he doesn’t care. He chooses them. The damned wolves.

Imagine the man you loved hated needed despised dies and his son makes every imaginable mistake and you follow him because he is your Alpha he needs you and you leave. You leave Ox behind and you hate yourself every day, for three years, you know how this feels you know exactly how this feels and it’s bitter in your throat because you hate him him Mark him for this choice you’ve just made and you understand and you hate it and it’s vicious and you can’t forgive him so how can you forgive yourself and

You come home and he’s not a boy anymore he’s not a kid but a man and he’s tall and strong and he’s the Alpha, somehow, and he doesn’t need you anymore.

But he forgives you. Easier than you’ve ever forgiven anyone in your life, he forgives you because he loves you and you love him and you came home.

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

john @ sam