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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | one

🐴Chapter summary: You arrive back at the ranch, a place you used to call home as a child. But it doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore. With the passing of your mother, you stand to inherit part of that very ranch– and you don’t want it. Only problem, your sister doesn’t want to give you her signature for you to sell your share. 🐴Chapter title: Inheritance 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of past character death of parents, exhibitionism, explicit smut in the form of protected sex, quick and dirty sex, doing it against a barn, creampie, nipple play, clit play. Doing it in public / outside. Mention of past infidelity (of parents). Spoiler ahead!!! Jungkook and Jimin are (half) brothers and reader sleeping with JK is necessary to happen for the sake of the plot 🥲 It sucked to write that part, and if you feel like the smut if ‘eh’ it’s because it was written that way because reader isn’t meant to be with JK! So, please, don’t let that discourage you from reading it, the rest of the story is really good and MC realizes she’s made a mistake… anyway the smut with Jimin when it eventually happen, is just 🥵🥵🥵 🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!) 🐴Word count: 8.2k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Theme from McLeod’s Daughters” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: this story has been in my head forever, and I’ve spent months outlining it and planning it– so I’m so stoked to finally post it! 🥳 I love both McLeod’s Daughters and BTS, so why not combine it?? I am not sure anybody will read this story, but if you do, thank you! It truly means the world to me.

I also want to give a very big thank you and shout out to my dear friend, Lua, for reading it while I worked on it, hyping me up and giving me such fucking wonderful feedback 😭✨ Thank you so much @letjungcoook7 💖🥹

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

“I said, I wanna touch the earth I wanna break it in my hands I wanna grow something wild and unruly I wanna sleep on the hard ground In the comfort of your arms On a pillow of bluebonnets In a blanket made of stars Oh, it sounds good to me I said, cowboy take me away Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue Set me free, oh, I pray” - “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks

The tires of your car dig into the unforgiving dirt road with a tenacious grip as you navigate the rugged terrain. A symphony of sand and dust dances before the windshield, yet your focus remains unyielding. The landscape is open and inviting, yet there’s tall mountains in the distance framing the idyllic nature.

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the vehicle, echoing the determination coursing through your veins. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your resolve unshakable.

Amidst the chaotic whirlwind outside, you're on a singular quest: to get your sister’s signature to sell your share of the ranch.

You yearn to sever all ties with the place.

It's not a matter of hatred, per se, but rather an aversion steeped in memories you'd rather forget.

The grounds echo with a tapestry of recollections, most of which cling like shadows to the recesses of your mind—a gallery of moments you're desperate to erase from the canvas of your past.

The passing of your mother, a woman absent from your life for over two decades, casts a melancholic hue over this reunion, that leaves much to be desired.

Separated by the passage of years, your sister remains a distant specter on the horizon of your past. A chapter of familial connection was abruptly closed when your father took you away from the ranch during your formative years, the sprawling fields replaced by the relentless rhythm of the city.

The city, with its towering structures and ceaseless energy, has woven itself into the fabric of your existence. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the eclectic cafes, and the teeming crowds, you've found a peculiar treasure trove of experiences that pulse through your veins like a vibrant heartbeat. The city's flaws, laid bare like urban scars, only deepen your affection for its complex tapestry, making each chaotic street corner and neon-lit club a cherished fragment in the mosaic of your life.

As an undesired song infiltrates your playlist, you find yourself questioning its very existence on your curated soundtrack.

Swiftly, you dismiss its intrusion, replacing its notes with the growling intensity of a much angrier anthem.

The need for focus on this mission is paramount, an unyielding commitment that not even the persuasive tones of Jessi, with all her influence, can sway or alter.

A familiar sign with your family’s last name emerges on the horizon, unleashing a flood of memories from an idyllic childhood—filled with the echoes of hide-and-seek, the warmth of love, and the harmonious symphony of laughter—that paints both your irises and your heart in hues of nostalgia.

Yet, as your fingers instinctively clench around the steering wheel, you staunchly refuse to be swayed by the emotional undertow. Determination courses through your veins, a steadfast resolve not to let sentiment cloud the clarity of your purpose.

With a resolute spirit, you navigate the winding road that leads to the ranch.

As the familiar landscape unfurls before you, a creeping uneasiness takes root within the recesses of your being. Despite the passage of two decades, the ranch appears frozen in time, an unchanged picture that sends shivers down your spine. The unsettling familiarity of the place only amplifies the weight of the past, casting a shadow over your determined journey back to a place that seems to have resisted the relentless march of time.

Bringing the car to a halt before the imposing main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers betraying a nervous rhythm as they tap anxiously against the steering wheel.

The stillness belies the turmoil surging within, as you ready yourself to encounter the ghost of your past.

A mere thirty minutes— an hour at most, and you'll resume your journey on the open road, bound for the comfort of home in the city.

Determination courses through your veins, intertwining with the staccato rhythm of your anxious heartbeat, the pulsations reverberating so forcefully that you can sense them echoing all the way to the depths of your ears.

The moment your car door swings open, a subtle shift in the wind whispers a tale of transformation. The landscape may echo familiarity, but an intangible alteration lingers in the air, an elusive metamorphosis that leaves you questioning the very essence of this place. Is it a mere illusion, or has something truly shifted, perhaps within the confines of your own soul?

Navigating the uneven terrain in heels proves to be a challenge, but undeterred, you conquer the dirt road and arrive at the tall front door. It stands before you, a sentinel of memories, somehow appearing taller than in recollection. The weathered, dark-red wooden door remains stoically unchanged, a silent witness to the passage of time.

Two deliberate knocks break the stillness, and you retreat a step, a reverberation of anticipation coursing through the air as you stand on the threshold of both the past and the unknown.

The door frame, once pristine in its white coat, now bears the scars of time, its paint chipped and revealing glimpses of the weathered wood beneath.

Stationed in front of the door, you endure a suspenseful five minutes, an eternity compressed into every passing second, yet the silence remains unbroken. Undeterred by the absence of response, a resolute determination guides your actions as you seize the handle. With a deliberate press, the handle yields, surrendering to your resolve and releasing a cacophony of creaks—a symphony of protesting hinges announcing your entrance into the realm of memories.

“Hello?”

Your voice, tinged with uncertainty, dances into the air as you cautiously poke your head through the threshold, a hesitant entry into the familiar realms of the house.

A gentle warmth envelops you, tenderly kissing your skin and infusing an instant sense of calm. The scent, aged and rich, swirls around you like a tangible embrace of wood and cherished memories from your childhood. The hallway stretches out before you, adorned with snapshots frozen in time—images of you and Jessi playing in the fields, your first pony, and a cherished trio with your mom. Each picture pulses with the erratic beat of your heart, echoing the palpable journey down the corridor of reminiscence. Amidst this gallery of the past, you navigate the tapestry of nostalgia, your destination set on what memory deems to be the kitchen.

The staccato clank of your heels resonates boldly against the unpolished hardwood floor, a deliberate announcement of your presence that reverberates through the silent expanse as you press deeper into the heart of the kitchen. Despite the resounding echo, a mysterious absence lingers, the emptiness amplifying the solitude within the room, a poignant contrast to the persistent cadence of your steps.

Surveying the scene, your eyes capture the delicate dance of white curtains adorned with lace, their elegance offering a stark contrast to the weathered state of the kitchen. Time has etched its story on the cabinets, pleading for a rejuvenating touch—perhaps a cleansing and a new coat of color to breathe life into the tired, faded cream. A wistful smile graces your lips, an emotive response to the tactile connection forged as your fingers trace the countertop. The surface, a touch dusty yet evocative, sparks an odd familiarity, transporting you to a realm of forgotten times and the comforting essence of what was once home.

A sudden voice startles you from your reverie, its unexpected presence slicing through the air like a well-timed interruption in the symphony of memories.

“Can I help you?”

A jolt courses through your body, a startled response to the abrupt intrusion of the voice, yet you pivot on your heels, meeting the owner of the enigmatic, yet somehow airy, tones.

In the face of the unexpected presence, you lock eyes with the source, a meeting that feels like a convergence of past and present, each heartbeat resonating with the electric charge surging through your body.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, the residue of your earlier determination dissipating in the charged air as you assess the man standing before you.

His eyes, a deep and authoritative brown, lock onto yours, unraveling a silent narrative in their depths. Blonde and untamed, his long hair falls with a disheveled grace, framing a face that exudes both strength and mystery. His slender physique conceals well-defined, lean muscles beneath the snug embrace of a gray shirt, each contour subtly hinting at the strength within. Clad in blue denim jeans with artful rips at the bottom, and adorned with chunky western boots boasting intricate ornaments, he carries an aura of rugged elegance.

“Can I help you?” he repeats, the query hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge.

Crossing his arms over a torso that amplifies the definition of his biceps, his deliberate posture commands attention, drawing your gaze to the undeniable display of strength.

“I’m so sorry,” you quip nervously, a hint of self-awareness coloring your tone. Inwardly, you curse the fact that you were caught in the act of checking him out, and you’ve yet to acknowledge the man properly. “I’m looking for Jessi?”

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes the man, accompanied by a soft smile that carries a subtle mystique, rendering his eyes nearly elusive.

“Who are you?” he inquires, his arms still defiantly crossed, and a flicker of realization dawns upon you—this interaction holds a peculiar tension. The awareness sets in that, in essence, you are an intruder, a stranger trespassing into the intimate space of a home that isn’t yours anymore.

“I'm Jessi's sister,” you declare, a succinct introduction that hangs in the air. His response is a simple “Oh,” a word that resonates with a spectrum of unspoken sentiments.

As his arms fall to his sides, his posture eases into a more relaxed stance, and his gaze, now unhindered by the barricade of crossed arms, traverses the contours of your figure. Your choice of attire—heels and a summer dress that daringly grazes your thighs—doesn't escape his notice.

You sense his eyes lingering on your exposed legs for a beat longer than societal norms might deem appropriate.

You find yourself unapologetically appreciating his attractiveness, recognizing the allure that binds both of you in a silent dance of mutual fascination.

“You don't remember me?”

His question pierces through the air, catching you off guard, and instinctively, you lean back against the countertop. A subtle shake of your head accompanies the inquiry, and as you witness a shadow of sadness flicker across his eyes, an unexpected weight sinks into the chambers of your heart. The unspoken question lingers—should you know this man?

“It's me, Jimin,” he asserts with a voice steeped in pride and certainty, a declaration that sets your mind into a whirlwind of attempted recollection. His name resonates with a familiarity that dances on the periphery of your memory, like an elusive wisp slipping through the cracks of forgotten moments.

“Park?”

You question with a voice that wavers in uncertainty, the mere utterance of the name carrying the weight of a fragile hope. As the word escapes your lips, you cling to the fragile threads of memory, desperately seeking confirmation that you've pieced together the puzzle of identity correctly.

“Yeah! Don't you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, the nostalgia of shared memories evident in his eyes.

With a warm gesture, he invites you to take a seat, a silent acknowledgment of the intricacies of your shared history. As he crosses the room to the sink, a subtle limp marks his stride—a detail you keenly observe as you pull out a chair. Your curiosity about his altered gait tugs at your thoughts, begging for expression, yet you restrain the impulse, deeming it too forward. Silently, you observe him reaching for a glass from the overhead cabinet, pouring water with a practiced ease.

“Here you go,” he offers, placing the glass before you. As you take it, your fingers brush momentarily, and an unexpected electric jolt courses through your body. You respond with a sheepish smile, expressing gratitude for the simple gesture. “Jessi is out riding; she'll be back soon.”

You nod, the cool touch of the glass against your lips serving as a momentary distraction from the impending wait. As you take a measured sip of water, the realization sinks in — a quiet acknowledgment that the road back home may stretch longer than initially anticipated.

“I'm sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, and a palpable pain reflects in his eyes. The depth of his empathy hints at a connection with your mother that might surpass your own or perhaps, he carries the weight of loss in his own experiences. Regardless, you express gratitude, but as you do, a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders accompanies your words. “It's whatever,” you say, attempting to downplay the complexity of emotions that linger beneath the surface, yet the weight of grief echoes in the unspoken spaces between you.

He offers a minuscule smile, a mere flicker that fails to reach the depths of his eyes, and a subtle shift in the atmosphere becomes palpable. A quiet tension weaves through the kitchen, the air thickening with unspoken complexities. It's as if the very walls themselves have become sentient, closing in with a slow and deliberate intent, creating an immersive sense of confinement that mirrors the unexplored territories of emotions lingering between you and Jimin.

The rhythmic clank of boots announces her arrival before she materializes in the doorway — Jessi, a force of raw determination, a cascade of muttered curse words trailing in her wake.

With an aura of purpose, she strides into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy that disrupts the tension-laden air.

“Aren't you supposed to be working?” she demands, a subtle undercurrent of anger weaving through her voice as her gaze fixes on Jimin.

You sense that you've slipped beneath her radar for now. Jimin responds with a casual chuckle, turning his head in your direction. In that moment, you feel the weight of her steel gaze bore into you.

You observe the subtle tensing of her body, her gaze meticulously scrutinizing every inch of you. Arms crossed defensively, she acknowledges your presence with a guarded stance.

“Long time no see. What do you want?” The words, delivered with an edge that slices through the air, reverberate with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, embodying the complex web of emotions that intertwine your shared history.

Your lips involuntarily tighten, the already tense atmosphere escalating to an almost suffocating degree as Jessi's presence intensifies. A rhythmic tapping of her foot reverberates through the room, an erratic metronome that hints at a cocktail of emotions—perhaps nervousness, perhaps anger, the fine line between the two eluding your understanding.

“The inheritance,” you utter, and a visible transformation sweeps over Jessi. Her countenance, already frosty, plunges into an even colder abyss. The pallor that washes over her skin accentuates the darkness of her brown, curly hair, transforming it into a cascade that seems to absorb the shadows of her perturbed soul.

A nervous gulp echoes in the charged silence, your attempt to fortify a wavering resolve. The mission is clear — secure her signature, liberate yourself, and sever the lingering ties. The weight of unspoken history and familial complexities hangs in the air, urging you to complete this fraught encounter, hoping that once the ink meets the paper, you’ll leave and never bother her again.

“I want to sell my share of the ranch. I just need your signature.”

The declaration hangs in the charged air, a revelation that sends a ripple through the room. Jimin tenses visibly, gaping in clear surprise at your bold proclamation. Your sister, on the other hand, is barely faring any better. The undercurrents of anger surge to the surface, a tempest of emotions that bobs precariously, threatening to breach the veneer of composure that barely holds.

She hisses, the sound cutting through the charged silence like a serpent's warning, and grinds her teeth together with a simmering intensity. “You're not getting that,” she declares with a venomous resolve, the words laced with an unmistakable determination that resonates with the unyielding clash of wills in the room.

The sternness and anger in her voice reverberate through the room, creating an invisible barrier. Undeterred, you summon a quiet resolve and press forward, attempting to cut through the emotional tempest that surrounds her. “I just need your signature, and then I can go,” your words, a delicate plea amidst the tumultuous clash of emotions, hang in the air, a fragile bridge between the chasm of familial discord and the resolution you seek.

She strides purposefully towards you, anger etching furrows into her brows. Coming to a halt just before your seated form, she looms over you with a fiery intensity in her eyes.

“No. Get the fuck out,” she commands, the force behind her words reverberating in the charged space between you. The air crackles with the energy of unresolved conflicts, and her words hang in the air like a proclamation, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jimin's expression no longer holds surprise, his features now marked by a disapproving shake of his head. As Jessi retreats from you, turning with a storm brewing in her wake, the kitchen becomes an echoing chamber of unresolved tensions. She storms out, leaving you and Jimin in the wake of her departure, the remnants of conflict lingering in the air like an unspoken presence that refuses to dissipate.

You clench your hands into tight fists, the physical manifestation of the internal turmoil that courses through you. The realization dawns, like a belated epiphany, that her vehement reaction was all but predictable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you slump back into the chair, the weight of disappointment settling upon you like a shroud. This isn't unfolding as you had envisioned.

The wind whips through, mercilessly tossing your hair into a chaotic dance across your face. Grumbling, you navigate the exterior of the main house, entering a realm where nature and grandeur coalesce. The yard unfolds before you, a testament to meticulous care, stretching expansively with paddocks extending for miles. To the left, a substantial stable stands as a regal sentinel, while to the right, three cottages punctuate the landscape.

Your gaze sweeps across the panoramic expanse, capturing the undulating beauty of the paddocks that cascade over the hills while the sun slowly sets. Cows and horses graze lazily, mere dots in the vast canvas of the countryside. The scene unfolds before you like a living painting, each blade of grass, each creature contributing to the symphony of nature. Amidst this serene image, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of contemplation, pondering the labyrinth of decisions that now lay before you.

Jessi won’t give you her signature, and you need her damn ink on that paper to be able to sell your share of the ranch.

Maybe if you get on her good side, she’ll reconsider? It’s worth a try at least.

“Hi,” a lilting female voice disrupts the current of your thoughts, a melodic intrusion that yanks you back from the recesses of contemplation. Your pivot is swift, attention now redirected to the stranger who has materialized behind you.

Her hand extends gracefully towards you, a gesture that transcends the usual formalities. “I'm Soo-ah, one of the stable hands here,” she introduces herself with an easy confidence, her words resonating with a sense of belonging and familiarity within the expansive realm of the ranch.

“Ah, hi,” you muse with a soft smile, extending a handshake that bridges the gap between stranger and newfound acquaintance. Her stature is modest, a curvature of curves, with a disarming smile that reveals a charming imperfection in the form of endearing crooked teeth. Clad in short denim shorts adorned with delicate white lace on the trim and a pink tank top, she exudes an aura of comfort and warmth. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, gleam with a radiance that speaks of love and hope, amplified by the contrast against her sun-kissed tan skin.

“Your trip didn't go according to plan?” she inquires, the gentle cadence of her question accompanied by the sweep of a hand, gracefully gathering her long blonde hair away from her face.

A chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, as you confess, “Not really.”

“You know, this place means a lot to Jessi. It's her home. She wouldn't want you to sell your share for some random people to buy it or worse, use the land for housing or something.” Her eyes mirror the softness of her words, and a gentle smile graces her lips, a gesture that carries an unexpected soothing effect on your conflicted heart.

The weight of her words settles on your conscience, a realization you had secretly dreaded. You grasp the depth of your sister's emotional connection to this land, an affection you once shared but have since outgrown. The prospect of selling your share, allowing strangers to lay claim to the cherished homestead, unfolds before you, and you acknowledge why Jessi vehemently opposes it. Yet, your heart remains indifferent to the sentimental ties that bind others to this place. It ceased being home long ago, and the notion of it ever regaining that status in your life appears as elusive as a distant memory fading into the horizon.

“Say what. It's late, and dinner's almost ready. Why don't you come eat with us and meet the rest of the gang? After that, I'll show you one of the guest rooms!” Her invitation resonates with a contagious enthusiasm, her voice exuding a warmth that almost verges on giddy. The surge of energy she emanates feels almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere that has accompanied your arrival.

“I haven't packed anything. I didn't plan on staying…” you mumble, your words trailing off into the evening breeze. Despite your half-hearted protest, she seizes your hand and playfully pulls you towards the main house. Reluctance threads through your steps, a tangible resistance to the unexpected detour that fate seems to be orchestrating.

“There's a guest room in the house, and you can borrow some clothes from Jessi or me. Those heels and that dress aren't exactly farm-friendly attire.” She laughs, a melody of warmth that resonates through the short walk to the house. Soo-ah guides you to the guest room where you'll be spending the night, and then you both make your way to the kitchen.

There, you encounter another enchanting presence—a statuesque woman, tall and slender, her ebony hair culminating at her neck. Her eyes, a captivating shade of incredibly dark brown, bordering on obsidian, stand out against her lovely fair white skin. Clad in a simple yet elegant ensemble of a dark t-shirt paired with dark blue denim jeans, she moves gracefully around the kitchen, orchestrating what appears to be a culinary feast in the making.

“I'm Ha-rin.” A casual wave accompanies her introduction, a seamless dance of gestures as she deftly grabs a handful of vegetables with the other hand.

“This is Jessi's sister,” Soo-ah introduces you with a warm smile, and Ha-rin nods in a gesture that suggests a preexisting understanding. “How can we help?” she inquires, her words carrying a blend of genuine curiosity and an unspoken readiness to extend hospitality.

“You can set the table. I'm almost done with the food,” she declares, seamlessly transitioning to the task of cutting carrots with a professional speed that leaves you duly impressed.

Soo-ah guides you to the location of plates and glasses, and in a synchronized dance, you both embark on setting the table in the dining room. The collaborative effort carries an unexpected warmth, a departure from the solitary routine you've grown accustomed to. The act of sharing this communal task conjures a sense of nostalgia; it's been a long time since you've partaken in such simple yet meaningful rituals. Your dining experiences have often been solitary, occasionally shared with a partner, although those instances are rare occurrences in the tapestry of your solitary meals.

In no time, Ha-rin completes the culinary masterpiece, presenting a spread of oven-cooked chicken, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and tantalizing kimchi. The table becomes a canvas adorned with the promise of a delectable feast. As you all take your seats, another presence joins the gathering—Ara, a tall woman with big brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders. Her curves and paler skin distinguish her from Ha-rin, yet she radiates the same warmth that characterizes the group.

The door swings open, and into the room strides your sister, a pronounced frown etching lines of disapproval on her face the moment her sharp eyes lock onto your figure seated at her dining table.

“Didn't I tell you to leave?” Her voice cuts through the air, laden with an undeniable tension that hangs like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the gathering.

With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you confront the directness that has always characterized Jessi, even if it doesn't always come across as nice. “It's getting dark, and Soo-ah graciously provided me with a room for the night. I'm not leaving until I get your signature,” you assert, the declaration hanging in the air like an unyielding challenge.

Jessi's voice carries a distinct air of deflation, and it becomes evident that obtaining her signature won't be a victory achieved tonight, if at all. Resigned, she takes her place at the head of the table, a silent acknowledgment of the impasse.

A stretch of silence envelops the dining room as everyone engages in the act of eating, a temporary truce. However, the calm is shattered as Jessi, unable to contain her emotions any longer, erupts like a dormant volcano. “Why can't you just keep your share of the ranch, huh?” Her words punctuate the air, each question a stab to the atmosphere, accentuated by the forceful plunge of her fork into the unfortunate chicken.

“Honestly?” You draw in a deep breath, preparing for the verbal fallout, fully aware that you've stepped into a minefield. “I just need the money.” The words hang in the air, a stark admission that lays bare your motivations. Jessi's frown deepens, her disapproving expression not eliciting the slightest surprise from you.

“Why can't you just buy my share?” The words escape you in a frustrated huff, irritation building with each passing moment. Jessi's ability to get on your nerves becomes increasingly evident, a skill she's always excelled at.

“I don't have the money to buy you out,” she states bluntly, her voice carrying a mix of blankness and anger, turning the tension at the table sour. Your plate, once adorned with the delicious offerings crafted by Ha-rin, now sits neglected, the food losing its appeal in the wake of the strained conversation. What a shame, you think, as the beautifully prepared meal becomes a casualty of the familial clash, and your appetite dissipates like the vanishing aroma of an abandoned feast.

“Why are you so mad at me?” you sputter out in frustration, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to pull at your hair in exasperation. The room echoes with a tense silence, interrupted only by the subtle sound of your sister's scuff, a precursor to the deep inhale that precedes the unleashing of her fury upon you.

“I haven't seen you in twenty years. You stomp in here, wanting to take my home away from me. And you didn't even attend Mom's funeral. Some balls you have.” Her voice is stern, each word laced with venom, and her glare cuts through you like a knife. To punctuate her disapproval, she slams her hands down hard on the table. “I'm going to bed. Goodnight.”

Then she stomps off. At least she has some manners, you think, acknowledging the begrudging ‘goodnight’ she offered. Nevertheless, you sigh, the rest of the girls casting pitiful glances in your direction.

You lean back in the chair, contemplating the daunting challenge of ever getting on your sister's good side. The prospect seems as elusive as catching a shooting star, an almost impossible mission. Just as you sink into the depths of your thoughts, Ara shatters your contemplation with a beaming smile. “We're having a party tomorrow. Won't you stay for that?”

You take a few seconds to mull over her offer: a party in the countryside does sound intriguing, but the prospect of extended time with a sister who harbors animosity towards you gives you pause. Soo-ah, sensing your hesitation, steps in with a persuasive grin, “There'll be hot men!”

Then, in an instant, thoughts of Jimin flood your mind, and the prospect of his presence at the party becomes a tantalizing factor. A glimmer of optimism flickers; perhaps attending won't be as unbearable as you initially thought. Contemplating the possibility of a good time, you decide, “Who can say no to that?”

A forced laugh escapes your lips, but within it, there's a hint of genuine enjoyment. Sometimes, you remind yourself, you have to fake it until you make it.

The barn pulsates with the rhythm of the music, a lively mix of country tunes, not exactly your preferred genre, yet the melodies weave seamlessly into the rustic ambiance. Couples and friends sway to the slow beats on the dance floor, creating an intimate atmosphere that, despite your initial reservations, feels oddly fitting. Most attendees linger along the walls engaged in conversation, and as your eyes scan the scene, you notice a handful of men. The girls weren't exaggerating – the company includes some undeniably attractive men.

The majority of women sport casual dresses, much like the one you've borrowed from Ha-rin. Clad in a long black lace dress that subtly accentuates your curves, you navigate the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. In stark contrast, Jessi's attire veers towards practicality – shirt, jeans and boots, a reflection of her enduring tomboyish nature. While you entertain a fleeting thought about the silliness of her choice for a party, a deeper understanding dawns. She’s always been more practical, and her choice of clothes tonight might align with that too.

Surveying the lively scene again, your eyes lock onto your sister, deeply engrossed in a conversation with Jimin, an interaction that sparks both curiosity and a twinge of apprehension within you.

As Ha-rin diligently tends to the culinary offerings, ensuring a variety of light snacks for everyone, Soo-ah and Ara steal the spotlight on the improvised dance floor. Their laughter echoes through the barn, a harmonious blend of joy and camaraderie, and you can't help but be drawn into the dynamic and diverse interactions unfolding around you.

Turning on your heels, a craving for the crisp embrace of fresh air seizes you. Opting for the subtlety of a quiet exit, you make your way toward the back door of the barn. The metallic touch of the door handle graces your palm with a forgiving chill, a stark departure from the warmth and vibrancy pulsating within. Pushing the door ajar, the night air rushes to greet your face, prompting a sigh of contemplation.

However, as you step outside, your serenity shatters with a startle – a towering, muscular figure leans against the barn, arms crossed, waiting in the shadows of the night.

A startled yelp escapes your lips, accompanied by an inadvertent inhalation of lingering smoke in the air. The features of the stranger remain elusive, shrouded in the haze, as they release a deep and resonant chuckle in response to your momentary disarray.

“Scaredy-cat?” he teases, the resonance of his laughter causing an animated jiggle through his entire upper body. Your gaze inadvertently drifts to his well-defined pectorals, emphasized by the snug fit of his ripped tank top. The exact hue of the fabric eludes you in the dim light, a mysterious darkness with a hint of, perhaps, deep blue.

You approach him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, though inwardly acknowledging the undeniable truth – you are indeed a scaredy-cat. Closing the distance, your eyes trace a path from his broad shoulders down his right arm, a canvas adorned with a full sleeve of tattoos. Among the intricate designs, some manifest in striking black and white, while others burst forth with vivid splashes of color, each telling a silent tale waiting to be unraveled.

Approaching him, you realize you've left his question hanging in the air. Coming to a halt in front of this enigmatic figure, you find yourself captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes. In the obscurity of the night, tiny glints of light echo the stars above, gleaming in his gaze. His pitch black long hair, with small curls at the end, frame his handsome face. Contrary to the rugged bulk of his body, his facial features exude a surprising softness. Thick, black eyebrows frame his expressive eyes, while a slim, pointed nose adds to the symphony of features. A sharp, defined jawline contrasts with the plushness of his rosy lips, gently circling a half-smoked cigarette.

“Jessi’s sister, huh?” He inhales deeply from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that dances in the air beside you.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer nervously, a feeble symphony to the deep timbre of his laughter. Nonetheless, you summon the courage to introduce yourself, your name a tentative melody lingering in the night air.

“I'm Jungkook.” He announces, the remnants of the cigarette meeting its demise beneath the sole of his boot, extinguishing any lingering embers. A subtle caution against the spark that could set the night ablaze.

“You look hot. Want to make out?” His gaze boldly traces over you, and a sudden self-consciousness grips you in the delicate embrace of your lace dress. Your cheeks ignite in a bright red flush, caught off guard by the unexpected boldness of his proposition.

Your flabbergasted expression seems to amuse him, and his laughter echoes, revealing an endearing smile that prompts a soft, airy chuckle to escape your lips in response.

“I'm serious, you know,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Another blush creeps up on you at his bluntness. Initially thinking he was joking, you now realize he's actually serious. As you assess him, you can't deny his incredible attractiveness, coupled with a nice smile and soft eyes. Perhaps he can't be all bad, right?

You saunter closer, conducting a swift yet thorough assessment of him. With a teasing lick of your lips, you signal that you're up for the game. “Sure.”

In a bold surge, he captures your lips, biting down on your lower lip as if seeking entrance. Yielding to the magnetic pull, your tongues engage in a fiery dance. His hands firmly grip your shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze before deftly maneuvering you against the wall.

In a ravenous and swift embrace, his lips claim yours, leaving you breathless when he breaks away, his gaze smoldering with a lustful intensity that ignites a fiery sensation beneath your skin. Though not one to engage in impulsive encounters, the intoxicating allure of the moment fans the flames of excitement within you. Reminding yourself of the imminent departure tomorrow, you boldly lean in, craving another taste, and surrender to the intoxicating dance of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his demeanor doesn't exude sweetness or tenderness, and strangely, you find solace in that. After all, tomorrow marks your return home. The intensity of his kiss, possessive and profound, spirals you into a mindless whirlwind, your thoughts dissipating into nothingness, overwhelmed by the feeling of his rugged frame pressed firmly against yours.

His gravelly voice breaks the kiss momentarily as he breathlessly declares, “Your lips are so damn soft.”

Locking eyes with you, he plunges back into the intoxicating exchange, this time with an urgent and fervent intensity that mirrors his escalating desire, leaving little room for restraint.

Your fingers dig into the firm contours of his hips, tracing an electrifying path along the sculpted landscape of his toned body. The rhythmic play of his muscles beneath your touch is a tactile symphony, every ridge and sinew a testament to his strength, creating an intricate dance beneath the fabric of his shirt.

His lips embark on a tantalizing journey, lingering on your cheek with teasing kisses before reaching your ear. A low, guttural growl escapes his lips as he presses his pelvis against you, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his breath against your ear ignites a wildfire of sensations, and the undeniable presence of his arousal is impossible to ignore. Control slips away like sand through your fingers, and you find yourself succumbing to the irresistible pull of desire.

You bite down on your lips, the struggle to suppress a moan palpable. Despite the lively party unfolding just a breath away, Jungkook possesses an uncanny ability to whisk you into a world of his own creation, making the chaotic celebration fade into insignificance.

His hands explore the contours of your breasts, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. The absence of padding in your bra leaves your nipples immediately responsive to his teasing fingers. Sensations surge through you, and as your panties cling uncomfortably, an urgent desire to shed them intensifies.

His breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “I want to fuck you so bad, can I?”

The firm squeeze on your breasts sends a wave of desire through you. Fuck. The craving intensifies, and the anticipation of being with him grows insatiable. It's been an eternity since you felt this desire, and you're already on the edge, yearning for his touch.

Your response escapes in a breathy whisper, “Hell yes.”

Your fingers find purchase on the contours of his chest, seeking stability amid the whirlwind of desire that envelops you both.

The symphony of desire crescendos as you catch the melodic jingle of his belt being undone, the tantalizing slide of metal against leather, and the whisper of a zipper surrendering its secrets. Soon, his jeans cascade down, pooling around his knees.

Your curiosity takes over, compelling you to cast an audacious gaze downward, and even through the fabric of his underwear, the impressive outline of his arousal is undeniable. The undeniable bulge hints at a restrained intensity, and summoning your courage, you boldly cup him, your touch sending a low, guttural groan reverberating through the charged air.

“Are you good to go without any prep?” His question, a tantalizing whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine, and the resonant, lust-laden timbre of his voice resonates deep within you.

Nodding in affirmation, you can't help but bite your lip, feeling the promise of an exhilarating encounter ahead. “Yes,” you murmur, a breathy admission to the impending intensity.

As he lowers his underwear, his dick is unleashed, an impressive display of length and girth, veins tracing its sculpted form. The engorged head, flushed and intense, undergoes a few suggestive strokes from his skilled hands, droplets of precum glistening as they descend to the ground below.

His touch is commanding, fingers tracing a path down the contours of your dress, gathering the fabric in his strong grip. Swiftly, his hands venture beneath, reaching the apex of your panties. In one bold motion, he removes them, allowing them to cascade to the ground as you gracefully step out, shedding inhibitions along with the delicate undergarment.

Unexpectedly, he seizes your hips, effortlessly lifting you into the air. As you leap, your legs instinctively wrap around his tiny waist, aligning your bare core with his throbbing dick, a subtle gasp escaping your lips as your wetness coats his cock.

A soft moan escapes your lips at the tantalizing contact, and Jungkook, seizing the opportunity, grips your supple curves, pressing you firmly against the wall for stability. Skillfully, he produces a condom out of thin air, wraps his cock with it and positions his dick at the entrance of your eager pussy. Your hands instinctively clutch his neck, a mixture of anticipation and desire written across your face as you brace yourself for the impending ecstasy. With a devious smile playing on his lips, he tantalizingly teases the velvety folds of your cunt with the head of his cock. But the pretense of gentleness is short-lived, as he discards any lingering pleasantries and thrusts his dick into your warm and eager core in one seamless motion.

A gasp escapes your lips as an exquisite stretch engulfs you, momentarily testing your limits. Yet, the generous coating of your arousal ensures that the discomfort swiftly transforms into an intoxicating wave of pleasure, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

He moves with an urgency that suggests an impending deadline, setting a pace that mirrors a sense of immediacy, as if time is a luxury he can't afford. The reasons behind his haste remain a mystery, and in this moment, you find yourself indifferent to the ticking clock, wholly absorbed in the intensity of the present.

“Mmmhh. You’re so tight.”

You gasp at the force of his thrusts, feeling the impact resonate through your body as your back collides with the wall. The slight discomfort is eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure, and his raspy pants only intensify the raw, visceral connection between you, each movement a symphony of pleasure and urgency. He thrusts forcefully, plunging into the depth of your pussy.

Wrapping your legs around him, you greedily pull him closer, breathless huffs escaping your lips with each relentless thrust. “Yes! Right there!” The pleasure becomes almost blinding as he unerringly targets that sweet, sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure that build an exquisite tension, promising an impending climax that pulses in the depths of your core.

“Shit.” He pants huskily into your ear, a shiver running down your spine in response. The intensity of his thrusts is unparalleled, each powerful movement leaving an indelible mark on your senses. The realization hits you that tomorrow might bring soreness, but in the heat of the moment, with a dick this good, you decide it's a price worth paying.

Your moans have evolved into uninhibited symphonies, each thrust hitting that exquisite spot that sends shockwaves through your body. The coil in your tummy tightens, ready to snap, just waiting for that final nudge to propel you over the edge. “I’m so close.”

Jungkook's grip on your ass tightens, but with skilled precision, he frees one hand and navigates it down the narrow space between your bodies. Despite the limited room, his large hand finds your clit and begins to rhythmically rub it to the beat of his thrusts. The sensation is mind-blowing. Every rub and thrust unravel your body, sending waves of ecstasy through every inch of your being.

Then he leans in, his hot breath grazing your ear, and he moans, pushing you right over the edge, “Come on my cock, pretty.”

“Jungkook!” You pant his name erratically as the coil inside snaps, and you release your fluid over his cock, synchronized with his relentless thrusts. You gasp for air, momentarily feeling your vision blur as your orgasm surges through your spent body.

He keeps thrusting into you, and you feel utterly spent, so you’re just hanging on and clinging to him for dear life. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as he relentlessly fucks you, searching for his own sweet release.

At a particularly hard thrust, you open your eyes, and they collide with a figure standing in the shadows.

Brown eyes and blonde hair meet yours.

You gulp, feeling your core clench instinctively.

It's Jimin.

His eyes reflect a mix of sadness and disappointment as they lock onto yours for a few lingering moments. He turns away and retreats back into the lively party. You don’t appreciate the unsettling expression on Jimin’s face, but there’s little you can do about it now. A strange and disconcerting feeling settles in your stomach.

“Fuck, you just got tighter, babe. I’m almost there.” His hands tighten their grip, his biceps flexing as he pulls you closer, syncing your movements with the intensity of his thrusts.

You sense Jungkook's thrusts growing more erratic, a telltale sign he's close. Despite his exhaustion, he strives to give his all in those final fervent moments, and you feel the warmth of his release filling the condom inside you as his pace slows. He's visibly breathless, and you empathize; after all, he exerted himself, utilizing every ounce of strength to keep you elevated. In his position, you'd likely be a panting mess on the ground.

“You good?” He inquires, scrutinizing your expression. Whether he discerns the melancholy etched on your face or not, he doesn't comment. Gently withdrawing from you and discarding the condom, he steadies you on shaky legs. You respond with a pensive smile and a nod. The night was undeniably enjoyable, yet Jimin's forlorn gaze lingers in your thoughts, casting a shadow over the post-passion atmosphere.

“I had a good time, thank you.” You muster a smile, though it feels a bit strained. Whether he perceives it or not is uncertain, and even if he does, you doubt it holds much significance to him.

“Same here. Thanks, babe.” His laughter rumbles as he rights himself, adjusting his underwear and fastening his pants. As he tends to his attire, you scan the floor for your abandoned panties.

As you retrieve them, you notice the dirt clinging to the delicate fabric, deciding against putting them on. Instead, you allow them to slip from your grasp, figuring you'll retrieve them tomorrow for a wash. The last thing you want is to flaunt dirty underwear at the party.

Jungkook strides confidently back into the lively party, and you trail closely in his wake, anticipation and a lingering heat coloring the air around you.

As you reenter the vibrant party scene, a sudden hush falls over the crowd, and the weight of all eyes on you feels like an invisible spotlight, making you wish for a momentary escape beneath the ground.

As you scan the crowd for Jimin, your gaze briefly collides with his, only to witness him quickly diverting his eyes elsewhere.

A perplexing mix of emotions lingers in his gaze—perhaps hurt or frustration. Puzzled, you question the impact of your intimate encounter outside, contemplating why he might be affected when, by all accounts, you share no significant ties.

As you enter the dining room, the tempting aroma of Ha-rin's carefully prepared breakfast envelops you, offering a flavorful farewell before you embark on your journey back to the bustling city.

As you approach the table, a surprising sense of harmony fills the room, with everyone already seated, including Jessi, who appears to be in higher spirits—perhaps fueled by the knowledge that she’s getting rid of you today.

Soo-ah's eyes sweep the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she starts, “ I discovered a pair of lacy red panties outside the barn this morning.”

You nearly choke on your food, a sudden realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Shit. Those are mine. Completely slipped my mind. My bad.”

All eyes suddenly fixate on you, their curiosity palpable. Soo-ah's gaze is practically bulging out of her eyes, Ara looks equally stunned, and Ha-rin can't help but release an amused ‘ooohh.’ Even Jessi, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, can't completely hide the flicker of intrigue in her eyes as she rolls them at the unfolding gossip.

Curiosity and a mischievous glint spark in Ara's big brown doe eyes as she leans forward, her cheeks tinted with a hint of red, and pops the question, “Who did you fuck?”

Between casual bites of scrambled eggs, you drop the bombshell, “A guy named Jungkook. You know him?” The nonchalance in your tone does little to mask the intrigue dancing in your eyes, leaving the table hanging on your every word.

A heavy hush descends upon the table, and you scan the faces around you, perplexed by the sudden silence. Disapproval lingers in Jessi's slow shake of the head, while the exchange of disconcerting glances among the girls hints at a shared, unspoken concern.

“What’s wrong?” Concern etches your voice as you inquire, the subtle panic seeping through, unable to grasp the sudden tension enveloping the table.

Soo-ah leans in dramatically, her words hanging in the air like a heavy secret. “You fucked Jungkook,” she drawls, the gravity of her statement sinking in, and a chill coursing through your veins. “The same Jungkook who's been with half the town—Park Jungkook.” The weight of his name leaves you wide-eyed, a sinking feeling settling in your gut.

Your jaw practically hits the floor, or it would if that were humanly possible. Park? Jungkook and Jimin are brothers?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Omg 🫢 How did you like the ending??? I hope you won’t be too mad… The fling with Jungkook only happens this one time, but necessary to happen for the rest of the story to make sense 🥲

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normspellsman · 1 year

Text

Can Only Hope

pairings: sully family x gender neutral!reader, slight spider socorro x gender neutral!sully!reader

genre: angst

word count: 3k+

warning(s): character death, mentions of death & gunshot wound

word bank: toruk makto — rider of last shadow, sa’nok — mother, sempul — father, tsmukan(s) — brother(s), tsmuke — sister, tsmuktu — sibling, ilu — aquatic animal residing in awa’atlu that it used for riding, ikran — winged animal used for flying & hunting, skxawng — idiot, & great mother / eywa — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in

note: this is my first post on here eeekkk! super excited to post this. i might start taking requests for avatar & atwow, but we’ll see! i’ve only been a reader on this app & haven’t had any motivation to write until now. i don’t know all of my way around this app regarding requests or writing formats, so if anyone has any advice to share, feel free to! it is greatly appreciated! <3 this fic is supposed to be gender neutral, so please let me know if any part of this fic does not reflect that. tuk is not mentioned in this fic & kiri is briefly mentioned. when i say you have four fingers, i mean you have a thumb & three fingers following that, just like neytiri. this is heavily inspired by @peacelovepandora ‘s account/blog. please go check them out! their work is amazing!

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Your birth was viewed as a new beginning, of sorts. The Omatikaya had gone through so much loss, so much pain in the years that the Sky People had inhabited their planet and planned to make it their own, in hopes of replacing their dying Earth with the beautiful and brutal Pandora. Many Omatikaya had lost their lives as a result of the humans greediness, leaving many orphaned and physically scarred from the destruction they caused. It was hard to see a bright future with the humans constantly taking and taking from the People and the planet they resided on. But, it seemed to get a little bit brighter once Jake Sully, the great and mighty Toruk Makto, had lead the clans to victory against the Sky People in the Great Battle. The humans had no choice but to leave the planet, finally allowing a peaceful and bright future to form itself for the Omatikaya and the rest of the Na’vi living on Pandora. Many celebrations were held in thanks to Toruk Makto’s as well as in triumph for the humans finally leaving their home after thirty years. But another one was celebrated after it was announced that Neytiri te Tsahka Mo’at’ite was with child, marking a new era for those who were succeeded after the Great Battle. You were the new stepping stone for the bright future of the Omatikaya. An omen of good fortune to come to all of Pandora.

Being the eldest child of Toruk Makto had been difficult, especially growing up. Much was expected of you, duties upon duties being put onto your shoulders from such an early age. You had to live up to such high expectations, something that came with being the first child of Jake Sully, a once Dreamwalker, and the clans most fiercest warrior, Neytiri. Constantly training to one day stand in front of your people and be recognized not just as Toruk Makto’s kid but as their leader as well. Although you had the typical features a regular Na’vi should have, four fingers on each hand and no traces of hair on your brow bones, children are still cruel. They constantly called you names that most definitely shouldn’t be repeated, pulled on your tail and hair, spit at you, told you that you’d never be good enough to be clan leader one day, and bothered you during your trainings. You’d cry to your Sa’nok about it once you came home from training, sniffling into her neck as you repeated the awful things kids your age said to you. And even with your parents butting in and demanding the children to stop, you couldn’t help but believe the words they uttered, plagued by the possibility of them being right. So, you pushed and pushed yourself to be the best you could be. Spending whatever free time you had from archery training in your Grandmother’s tent, eager to learn what every herb did and what technique she used when applying paste onto an injured Na’vi, watching her every move. And spending whatever free time you had from that practicing your tracking skills. You did a lot to prove yourself and tried your best to look unfazed by the little amount of sleep you received daily. But as the words that you and your family had to potentially leave your home and clan, everything that you knew, spilled from your Sempul’s mouth, the only thought that came to your mind was Was it all not enough?

Adjusting to your new life at Awa’atlu was extremely difficult. You were a foreigner in a foreign place and your title meant nothing to these people. Sure you earned a little respect and street cred from being the eldest child of the Toruk Makto, but it still wasn’t enough to earn you place amongst the Metkayina. So, once again, you trained and trained until your muscles felt utterly useless from the amount you swam and your lungs felt numb from continuous breath holding. But, as every day passed and the sun rose in signal for a new start, you slowly got the grasp of the way of the water. And you actually found yourself relaxing in the oceans water as you silently floated there once you were excused from your training, a small smile on your face. It was nice to finally relax for once, the feeling a bit foreign to you. Back home, you never got a chance to relax, always busy with pleasing your parents and everyone else in the clan, leaving you without any room to simply breathe. The whole thing kind of felt like a vacation almost. No longer having this weight on your shoulders to become the next clan leader and live up to your clans expectations of you. That is, until the humans find your family in the one place you were supposed to be safe.

You grew up with the stories of the Sky People and their selfishness, how quick they were to claim something that wasn’t theirs and how quick they were to fight over it, not caring for the blood that they spilled in the process. Growing up, you’d have nightmares about the humans coming back to Pandora and slaughtering the ones you loved right in front of you, not being able to move quick enough to stop them. Your Sempul often pulled you into his arms and rocked you in comfort, trying to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you fell asleep in his hold. He’d then lay you back down in between himself and Neytiri, placing a soft kiss onto the crown of your head before quickly falling asleep as well. As you aged, they became few and far in between, dreaming of flying your beloved ikran or messing around with your youngest siblings. But once the humans returned to Pandora a year before leaving for Awa’atlu, the came back in full force. Your family were awaken many nights by your crying or screaming, rousing you from your sleep to comfort you, sobbing into their gentle hold as the dream kept repeating in your minds eye. You were terrified of having your family be taken away from you and, perhaps, that’s where your fear of disappointment came from and not the cruel children you had encountered early on in your life. You wanted to be a protector and protect the ones you loved, and protect you did.

The sting of the salt water is what drew your attention to the middle of your aching chest, looking down to witness the crimson red leak from your body and mix itself into the clear water you were submerged in. You hadn’t even realized you were shot in the process of jumping into safety, barely even processing the whizzing bullets flying passed you as you dived feet first into the water. All you were focused on was getting your little tsmukans, Neteyam and Lo’ak, to safety during their mission to rescue their human friend, Spider. Your personal safety was the last thing on your mind, demanding that your brothers and Spider go first jumping into the moon pool, shooting back at the fake Avatars. There weren’t many times where you saved your brothers asses from the things they managed to get themselves into, that job being put onto Neteyam by your parents. So, this being one of the only times that you saved both of their asses and were going to die as a result, put a gentle smile on your face. At least I would go out protecting those you cared about, you thought to yourself.

Your struggle was noticed by Neteyam, halting him in his celebrations with Lo’ak and Spider. “Are you alright, tsmuktu?” He asked, making his way towards you as he glided through the water. His eyes didn’t clock in on your hand over your chest yet, too busy watching you nearly drown as you struggled to keep your head above water. It was as if once you registered that you were shot, your body began to shut down at the realization. Your once strong legs forged by the oceans unpredictable current were now struggling to keep yourself up and lazily kicking, your left arm desperately trying to make up for your legs inability to work at the moment, making crazed movements underneath the water to stay upright. You lungs and chest also burned, not accepting any of the air you tried to suck in from above the waters surface. “I’ve been shot, skxawng,” you uttered, spitting out the water that managed to make its way into your agape mouth. Everything burned, even within the oceans cool water.

“Fuck,” Neteyam whispered, grabbing the arm that wasn’t covering the open wound in your chest and wrapping it around his shoulder, trying not to openly sob at your cries of protest in pain. It was now Lo’ak’s turn to notice your current state. He tensed at your cry and found himself praying to the Great Mother that it wasn’t what he thought it was. Neteyam’s following statement only solidified his fear, “(Y/N)’s been shot! Help me get them up!”. Both the brothers and Spider helped you up onto the back of Lo’ak’s ilu, Neteyam settling himself behind you as Spider gripped onto the side of the ilu’s saddle. The four of you raced to the nearest piece of rock that was in direct eyesight, Lo’ak calling out to your Father once he notices him atop the rock they were aiming for. Fear had instilled itself into the younger Sully brothers, hoping that whatever was happening was not the last time you would take a breath.

“Watch their head, bro!” Lo’ak called out against the crashing waves, rocking his, and everyone’s else’s, body up against the jagged rock they were trying to hoist you up on to. You coughed up a mouthful of water in response, gasping for air once the wave that splashed you pulled back and granted you air. “What happened?” Jake hurriedly asks, pulling your body into his arms before gently setting you down onto the rough surface of the rock. He swiftly moves you to your side to assess if whether or not the bullet that pierced you also came out the other side. His heart dropped once he saw the exit wound, even more of your blood gushing out from it. Jake could only close his eyes as he gently shifted you back onto your back, dread making its way up his stomach and into his heart. Jake had witnessed a many of deaths during his time in the marines on Earth. And although he had gotten used to the feeling those deaths gave him, nothing would’ve ever prepared him for the feeling of losing one of his children before his time. Jake found himself thinking of his twin brother, Tommy, at this time, wondering if his death had been like yours, painful, or had been quick and peaceful. Jake quickly shook his head at the thoughts. This is no time to think of your late brother, Jake, he thought. Your child needs you.

“Is-Are they going to be okay?” Spider asked, keeping his distance from Jake and the rest, guilt crawling up his chest and settling into his throat. He tried to gulp down the feeling, but that seemed to only make it worse. No one answers the human boy, too occupied with their dying loved one in front of them. You never made an effort in befriending the boy, your Mother influencing your thoughts on the boy as well as being too terrified to. If all Sky People are said to be what your Mother told you as a child, then you didn’t want to interact with one. But, as you lay dying on the small piece of rock, you couldn’t help but feel bad for not giving the kid a try. One conversation wouldn’t have hurted, right?

Neteyam had put both of his hands over the wound in your chest, as demanded by your Father, in order to slow the blood from further oozing out. “You’re gonna be okay, okay?” Neteyam comforted, although it seemed to be more directed to himself than you, “You have to be. You’re my big tsmuktu. You’re invincible.”. Neteyam’s words only caused more tears to leak out from your eyes. You hadn’t even known you were crying. Whether from the pain or the realization that you were, in fact, dying, you did not know. Neteyam always looked up to you growing up. Although you were only a year older, he still viewed you as his role model. You carried yourself with such grace and confidence, he often found himself trying to memorize your strides and how you pulled back a bow effortlessly, practicing what he could remember whenever he was alone, desperate to be just like his older sibling. As the both of you grew older and drifted apart, he still viewed you as someone to look up to and strive to be like. A much younger Neteyam also viewed you as invincible, untouchable by the bad things that lurked within the depths of the dark corners of Pandora. And now, as a teen, he still viewed you as invincible. Even as you lay bleeding out in front of him, he still thinks you are because you protected him and Lo’ak and Spider from the soldiers on the ship. You gave up your life for him, and for that, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“You still have to finish that bracelet for me, (Y/N),” Lo’ak sobbed out, grasping your free hand into his as he knelt in front of you, next to Neteyam. You only shakingly smiled at your brother, trying your best at squeezing his hand in response, but your fingers only gently fluttered at the attempt. You had begun to weave a bracelet for your youngest brother the night after he was abandoned at the Three Brothers, hoping to cheer him up from the hurtful words your Father spewed at him. You were never a good weaver so it took longer than expected, even with the help of your tsmuke, Kiri. Upon hearing of your struggle from the complaints of Kiri, Lo’ak felt warmed at the nice gesture you were doing. Growing up, Lo’ak always loved the things you made, even if they were a total disaster and halfway down. He still cherished them in his heart. He often found himself ‘accidentally’ breaking a bracelet he or someone else made and asking you to fix it for him or make him another one, excitedly waiting behind you as you did so, tail furiously wagging behind him in joy at his successful attempt at getting you to make him another bracelet of your creation. You pretended to not notice Lo’ak’s continuous purposeful breaking of handmade bracelets he received, happy to make him another one. It made you feel wanted and useful, especially if you had another encounter with one of the child bullies within your clan that day.

“D-Dad…” You weakly called out, turning your head and gaze towards your Father. Tears were running down his eyes as his gaze shifted back onto you, smiling down at you the best he could, putting on a front so you wouldn’t worry. “Yes, angel?” He asked, taking your right hand into his large ones, resting it against his cheek in hopes of comforting you. “I-I did it. Y-yeah? I pro-protected them, D-Daddy. I tried. R-re-really hard. I did. Got th-then t-to safety,” you responded, struggle evident in your voice as you stuttered over your words. That’s all you wanted to do back on that ship. Protect your brothers and get them to safety. You were glad to have achieved your goal, but at what cost? You were only sixteen years old and had so much ahead of you. Even before being forced to leave your home clan, you dreamt of becoming a fierce warrior and leader for your people and possibly having a family of your one day. But that all was ripped from you by a single bullet. Jake found himself cursing Eywa and all the other higher beings for taking his child’s life away far too soon to actually experience it. It wasn’t fair at all. But, nothing ever if fair is it? The Great Mother only gives and borrows energy, having the power to take it away all in one breath. And Jake is learning the hard way of what the Great Mother is truly capable of.

“Yeah, yeah you did, angel. You protected your brothers and brought them back to me,” Jake answered, brushing some matted flyaways from your forehead, the dried up seawater making the hair cling to your skin, “I’m so proud of you.”. Upon hearing that statement, you felt contentment settle itself between your bones. You longed for those five words for years, especially if they came from your Father. It wasn’t very often that either of your parents expressed their feelings about your accomplishments to you. Sure they might’ve bragged to other clan members about how you claimed and bonded with your ikran in little than two minutes, setting a new record for young Omatikaya, and they might’ve put you on a golden pedestal to others, highlighting how nearly perfect you were at everything you did. But they never said those kinds of things to you up front. A few “Good job”’s here and there, but nothing too impactful as those five words that your Father just uttered.

It seemed as if the constant battle your body was engaging with had came to an end, numbness spreading to your entire being as the only thing you could do was continue to breathe shallow breaths and look up at your Father. Your heart was tired of pumping blood throughout your body only to be pushed out of it. Your lungs could only take small breaths at a time, not having the energy to fully expand at your inhales. Your head began to feel fogging, all your senses dimming as you barely registered your Mothers ikran harshly landing in front of you. “What-” the question that Neytiri was going to asked for stuck in her throat as her eyes fell into the scene in front of her. Her eldest child, the light of her life, was limp and covered in blood, who she hoped wasn’t yours. “My baby,” she whispered, quickly falling onto her knees in front of you, Neteyam moving out of the way so your Mother could see you in your final moments. Flashes of her giving birth to you, feeding you from her breast for the first time, playing with you as a babe, teaching you how to walk and talk, and all your other firsts you experienced throughout your sixteen years of life on Pandora raced through her mind once she saw the bullet wound settled into the middle of your chest, draining all life from you. You had been her first child, her pride and joy, and to see you like this, pale and sticky with your own blood, made her want to trade places with you. In an alternative universe, she would’ve.

“Oh, Great Mother, please. No!” She shrieked, grabbing onto both of your biceps, trying to hug you closer as more of your soul and life slipped away at each passing second. You wanted to comfort her, to tell her that it’ll all be alright, but you physically weren’t able to speak, too fatigued to open your mouth. So, you just laid there as your Mother brought you close to her chest, seemingly trying to share her life force with you, to spare you from the cold grasp of death. Jake could only watch as Neytiri pleaded for the Great Mother to spare you, heart strings tugging at her desperate wails. He knows that Eywa always has a plan, but does that really include taking his eldest child’s life away? He began to doubt the entity that breathed life into everything on Pandora, just like he did back on Earth with all the other ones. Would she really be that cruel?

Lo’ak was the first to notice you completely go slack and relaxed, your eyes focused on the eclipsing sun in front of you. He didn’t want it to be true, calling out your name in hopes for your eyes to shift from the sun to him. But, it never came. Neytiri pulled you back from her chest, gently shaking you in hopes that you’d awake. But, you didn’t. Upon the realization that the eldest Sully child had finally passed and was reunited with Eywa, everyone broke. Neytiri let out multiple screams and wails, begging for you to come back. Jake had only closed his eyes once again, tears escaping from his waterline. Neteyam looked down at his blood stained hands, feeling like his palms were on fire. Even then, years after your death, Neteyam can still feel the weight of your blood on his hands and the sticky feeling it left behind, no matter how many times he scrubbed at them. Spider continued to stand in his spot, motionless. He couldn’t help but feel as if your death was his doing. Maybe if he didn’t get kidnapped by Quaritch, you’d still be alive. Maybe if he didn’t need Lo’ak’s help in rescuing him from the ship, you’d still be alive. Maybe if he was able to go into cryo and be shipped back to Earth, you’d still be alive. And Lo’ak felt his body go cold. He slumped back in the spot he was sitting in, bringing his hands up to his face as he sobbed into them. He felt as if he was at fault too. Maybe if he didn’t insist on going to get Spider, you’d be alive. Maybe if he didn’t get caught in that net, you’d still be alive. Maybe if he didn’t go to that stupid broken down lab and get held hostage by Quaritch, you’d still be here. But that’s all the Sully family can do. Think of what if’s and only pray that your soul makes a safe return into the afterlife and that you only stay blissfully ignorant to the fact that you died and are no longer living. They can only hope.

And, along with your death, the new peaceful beginning that was prophesied and hoped for at your birth, died as well.

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ellieluvr420 · 3 months

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We meet again, darling pt.18 (detective Abby Anderson x criminal reader x detective Ellie Williams)

Synopsis: Abby Anderson is a skilled detective that's never let a criminal escape her grasp, until you. You've infiltrated every part of her life and she still can't get you. As she grows more and more intrigued by you she finds herself descending further into darkness until there's no way back. She takes your hand and follows you as if your presence is the only thing giving her life knowing that you are the most dangerous thing for her. Her life will never be hers again and she will stop at nothing to keep following you down your path of corruption.

Violence (shit is kind of heavy ibr) and mentions of abuse btw!

“YOU FUCKING BITCH WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PLAYING AT?” Your brother screeched as he storms into your penthouse, you can’t see him yet but you imagine the beetroot colour of his face that he always suffered from growing up.

“What’s got you so riled up?” You’re standing at your island drinking a coffee and going over some last minute details for your travel plans. He storms over and immediately grabs you by the throat, slamming you back into your fridge behind you.

“Don’t give me that shit you little cunt. What the fuck are you doing?” You move carefully to remove your knife from its holster that’s hidden by your blazer, once it’s firmly in your grip you rapidly bring it up and slash the outside of your brother’s wrist. He growls at the pain and back hands you once hard with his other hand, it sends you stumbling to the corner of the counter where you grip on to steady yourself.

“I can’t even tell you how much you look like Dad right now.”

“Oh you are so fucking predictable.”

“Same to you.”

“The fuck do you mean by that?”

“God if mum was here she’d wash your mouth out with soap.” He comes at you with a psychotic look on his face but you’re prepared so you wait for him to get closer and knee him directly in the crotch and then elbow him hard in the nose. He goes down onto his knees and you kick so he falls on his back as he coughs and groans. “You look pathetic right now. That’s what you’ve always been, pathetic. That’s why I had to run shit, because you’re a pathetic, incompetent pussy that can’t do what’s necessary. If you wanted me out of the way, you should’ve just killed me. I would’ve respected you more for that than this bullshit.”

Your voice is raised but you aren’t yelling, he looks at you as you speak and you notice his difficulty focusing but you just stand and stare at the last bit of family you had left, the thought of killing him saddened you for a second but as you watched him writhing around on the floor before he struggles to stand again the sadness morphs into something more energising.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh now who’s feigning ignorance? Ricky Matthews, Johnny. Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out? How stupid are you?”

“I was hoping that they’d catch you before you could, figured your little girlfriend would lead them right to you.”

“I guess you underestimated their loyalty.”

“Their? You sick freak, you're with both of them? I should've fucking known, never could resist what you couldn't have could you?"

"Think I've proved I can have them actually, I've proved over and over again that I can have them, I've had them a lot." A sinister grin grows on your face and his twists into a face of disgust, he honestly looked like he was seconds away from heaving.

"You know I could get over you being a dyke but this, you're not fucking normal! I never believed anyone when they would tell me you're unholy, I always defended you when people said you were Satan's gift to Earth. I've gone along with your story of our parents since you killed them. I was wrong and you were born wrong, there are bad people and then there's you. You trapped me in this shit and I'm done, I need to be rid of you."

You weren't hurt at his words, you didn't feel anything, but your body felt lighter as everything inside you felt like it darkened. You had always had a soft spot for your brother and it always weighed on you, kept you grounded but as you feel its weight dissipating you feel a new sense of warmth as your hatred of him burns a fire deep inside you.

"My story of our parents? What the story of our parents? Are you actually trying to tell me I'm lying about them?"

"We didn't kill them, YOU DID."

"Fine fine, yes okay I killed them but I've protected their AND your honour all these years, I've never told anyone what went on in our white picket fence house. Typical suburban family right? I'm lying when I say we weren't that Johnny, am I?" He huffs and looks down at the floor avoiding your crazed eyes. "You gutless weasel, look at me when I'm speaking to you. Am I lying Johnny?"

He looks up and there are tears in his eyes and it only makes the fire of your hatred for him burn hotter, everything in you was ready to boil over as you held back your rage with every ounce of strength you had.

"I'm sorry okay. I'm sorry for how they treated you. It never even seemed like it affected you, you were the most popular girl in school, I was known as your brother even before you went there, every boy wanted you, every girl wanted to be your friend, you did well in school, you did clubs, you seemed happy so I thought you were okay."

"Oh I was fine. That's the point Johnny, I don't feel anything right? I'm psychotic, sociopathic, narcissistic, what else is there? Let's go through the list hm, bet I fit the criteria for more disorders than I don't. That's why I was numb to it, but do you not think maybe you could've tried to intervene when our dad tried to strangle me with his fucking belt? Yeah I don't feel things but I fucking felt that. But I looked happy so it was okay to just let him continue breaking my ribs when he had had a bad day right?"

"I'm sorry, I was scared."

"Exactly, you were a fucking coward, never once had he ever even raised his voice at you or his fucking wife but you're scared that he's gonna give you the same licks I was getting daily if you step in. Better me than you, you were a fucking coward then and you're a fucking coward now."

"God if you despised me so much why didn't you kill me with them?"

"Because I needed you, do you think I could've got this far if I hadn't had you as my posterboy?"

"So you've put me through hell so you could use me?"

"Yeah."

"See! This is what I fucking mean, can't you see it?"

"What? That I'm a bad person? Of course I fucking see it. But I kill and I hurt and I abuse when it serves a purpose to me, not because my ego is so fragile I need to pick on someone I know can't fight back."

"And that makes it okay?"

"No obviously not but that's the point, I don't care. I don't care that it isn't okay to kill your parents and I don't care that it isn't okay to kill your brother. I don't concern myself with justifying my actions I just do it." You spit your words at him as you pull your gun from its holster and aim it directly at his heart.

"Why couldn't you have been normal?" He pleads and your hand with the gun waivers as you actually feel a pain in your chest, its a foreign feeling and you clutch at it with your free hand as you focus on your brothers hunched form.

"Do you know what? I wouldn't have been able to blackmail you into all of this if you hadn't killed that fucking girl? Remember who you called to come help you? Remember who was the reason you didn't get thrown in jail? You act like I was born all dark but you aren't sunshine and rainbows either. Why'd you kill her again Johnny?"

"Shut. Up."

"Oh yeah, because you got her pregnant and you were too much of a coward to tell our fucking parents because god forbid they see that you aren't their perfect little angel boy. You killed a pregnant girl John, I think it's time you face the fact that we are just a fucked up family, Dad, me, you, Mum was a poor victim in it all but her ability to brush everything under the rug to keep up appearances is what got her six feet under."

"I killed someone and now you make any new employee kill someone to prove themselves. You don't see how we're different?"

"You killed an innocent pregnant 18 year old and I kill bad people with bad intentions. You don't see how that's different?"

He goes silent as you both just stand there, there's blood splatters on the floor and countertops from the various wounds you had inflicted on him. The atmosphere was heavy and you realise you're glad you sent Ellie and Abby home before he came over because the thought of them hearing some of the things that have been said causes a shiver to run down your spine.

"You ruined me. I was going to be an engineer, I had potential and now I can never live a normal life again."

"You ruined yourself, I just capitalised on it. Don't see you crying about losing your normal life when you're lounging about in your massive fucking mansion. Or your collection of supercars, or what about that summer house in Aspen. Never had a problem with all the things I've given you because of the shit I do."

"I let myself be bought."

"You did. I hope you enjoyed it because you've stopped being of use to me now. Sorry your funeral isn't going to be as good as your last one, do you remember how many more flowers my grave got than yours? I knew it was a good idea to wait and watch the aftermath."

"I don't even care anymore. Just kill me." His acceptance of his fate pissed you off and you find yourself smashing his face down into the countertop with every bit of your strength, his nose makes a distinctive cracking sound and he cries out although it comes out strangled. As he falls down to the floor once again struggling to breathe, you pin him down to stop his wriggling, you looked at your gun in your hand and it didn't feel right so you swapped it for your knife and dragged it down his bloody face as you took in his features one last time.

This was it, the last thing grounding you to your humanity, the last weight you had to shed and the moment had come, the world could burn and you'd just lay in the fire, the darkness that had enveloped you in its embrace all your life was no longer externally guiding you, it infected every cell in your body, the darkness became you and directed the knife straight into John's heart, again and again. By the time you were done you were kneeling in a pool of his blood and there was a cavity in his chest, you look at his dull, lifeless eyes and you stand to look over him before crouching again diving your knife into his face until he is unrecognisable, you sit back and admire your work as you recount all the things he said to you.

As you walked away to go get cleaned up you pulled out your phone to message on the group chat you have with Ellie and Abby. Ellie had made it saying it would be easier but you still felt silly using a group chat.

'How's packing going?' You message once you've showered and redressed. Ellie begins typing almost immediately.

'yeah it's okay, I don't actually have that much stuff so it's a breeze' You notice yourself smiling at her message which only grows as Abby starts typing, you couldn't describe what it is you feel for them, because like Richter said, you don't feel anything.

'Yeah I'm realising half of my wardrobe is stuff you've bought me.' You chuckle a little and send the kiss mark emoji that you had taken to using as it reminds you of all the lipstick stains you've left in the shape of a pout on them. You put your phone away and prepare yourself to leave your penthouse for one of the last times. You walk past what is left of Richter and message Jeremy that he's ready for collection and call the elevator to your floor.

"I was wondering when you would show."

"Happy to hear you've been expecting me." You were stood in front of the boss of the Met, he was a heavy set man with dark hair that had streaks of grey running through it as its all gelled backwards to sit smoothly against his head and a large moustache with the same grey speckles on the dark background covering most of his top lip. He sat in a nice suit smoking a cigar, you roll your eyes at the cliché and he chuckles a little.

"Well I wasn't expecting you. You're telling me a little girl took down my empire?"

"Empire is generous don't you think? I thought we should have a chat."

"I'd love to." He gestures at the chair in front of his desk and you sit slowly while fixed on his dark eyes. as they examine your every move.

psa: I know she's a bad girl but my heart broke a little for reader while writing this. She's just different okay :') Goodness the end is getting closer, sorry there wasnt much of abby or ellie in this chapter but i really wanted to focus on reader and richter

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thebubblesareevil · 2 years

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Life on the farm pt 4 copy cat

It takes QUITE a bit of explaining for about how exactly Danny is apparently dead for Clark to be even mildly okay with it. Up until Pa tells him how he save his life at which point Clark was close to tears. Lois had to pull him off Danny before he was crushed to death. All in all they had a very interesting Christmas.

Fast forward a month and Clark mentions to Bruce how he has a new little brother and how apparently his parents have a habit of attracting the paranormal. This tips Bruce off and he suggests that Clark bring Danny by mount justice to see what he can do. Danny is pretty iffy about it and intends to say no when Ma tells him he should go. It might be nice for him to meet kids his age that he doesn’t have to worry about scaring. So Danny reluctantly agrees.

When they arrive via zeta tube Danny immediately takes off in search of a trash can before he vomits all over the entrance, cujo not far behind him. He ends up getting lost in the halls and walking into a training session with black canary. Danny watches, fairly impressed with the teen sparring with the blond, he had a bit of a temper but he wasn’t doing too bad. When she slammed him on the ground Danny gave a sympathetic groan, the teen twisted around glaring at him “Who the hell are you?!?” He stood up revealing the Superman symbol on his chest.

Danny immediately held his hands up to show he meant no harm. Canary tells him to calm down before addressing Danny “you must be the young meta Superman told us was coming. I’m black Canary, it’s nice to meet you.” The other boy scowled, much to Danny’s confusion.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a meta but sure, I’m here with Superman” he turns to address the teen. “you were doing real great in that fight. I’m impressed, but y’know…”

“I need to reign in my temper. I know!” Danny looks at him surprised, “actually I was gonna say that if you went in for a jab before she flipped you it would have thrown off her balance. Sometimes the most efficient attacks are the ones that don’t hit.” He looked at Danny confused, and a little bit relieved. Danny grinned “you didn’t lose the spar because of your temper, you lost because she’s more experienced. I used to get my ass kicked all the time. It just takes practice.”

“You fight? Would you care to try your luck?” Canary asked. Danny hesitated “uhm I’m not sure about that, I don’t usually fight the living…” canary looked at him confused “what do you mean..” before canary finishes her question they are interrupted by wolf charging into the room chased by… a small green dog?

Danny shouts “Cujo!” The dog stops and races to Danny, wolf hides behind Conner.

“What’s wrong buddy, he’s just a little guy?”

Danny laughs and says “I wouldn’t go that far, but he’s probably more concerned by the fact that hes a ghost. Animals tend to get pretty antsy near ghosts, working on a farm was an… interesting experience to say the least.” Danny laughs “we should probably go find Supes” the three make they’re way toward the living area where they find Superman with the rest of the team. He surveys the team guessing who’s who. He’s not sure about the magician, Obviously the red head works with the speedster, he’s not sure who the kid in the cape works with, Danny’s not sure if there are any archers in the league so he’s a little confused by the blond girl. The cute teen with gills probably works with aquaman. The moment he sees M’gann though, Danny stares with undisguised confusion. Conner notices the look and immediately gets defensive “you got a problem with martians?!” Danny swiftly turns to Conner “She’s from MARS!?!??” Danny is no longer next to Conner.

The whole team gets whiplash from the change as Danny bombards their resident Martian with questions about Mars and space. Superman laughs, “how come you weren’t this enthusiastic when you found out I was kryptonian” Danny gives Clark an unimpressed look. “You were raised on earth by Ma and Pa, she was raised on MARS you are not the same.” The whole team freezes, not that Danny notices much as he continues to ask M’gann about space.

Conner breaks out of his surprise “you’re related to Superman?” Clark goes to interrupt but Danny answers before he can.

“Yep, Ma and Pa took me in so now I’ve got a kryptonian big brother.” Conner clenches his jaw as Danny continues “but don’t worry I won’t be stealing your mentor, I’m pretty strictly a solo act, closest thing I had to a mentor was… an old friend.” Danny may be obsessed with space but he’s not a complete idiot so it’s pretty obvious at this point that Conner is trying to reign in his temper. “Is there something wrong?”

“He’s not my mentor!” Danny looks between the two “sorry my mistake the shirt threw me off. Just a fan then.” They all start to look at him weird before Clark jumps in

“He’s uhh, well he’s my clone” Danny freezes with a gasp he covers his mouth in shock and places a hand over his chest. “I can’t believe this. To think… I’ve finally assessed to the rank of middle child!!!” Danny throws his hands in the air in triumph. With a laugh he turns back to Clark “Why didn’t you tell me I had a little brother?! This is awesome!” Conner looks at Danny confused

Clark interrupted Danny’s excitement “he’s, well you don’t, he’s not my brother he’s my clone.” Danny brushes him off

“So what! He’s perfect little brother material. I’m assuming Ma and Pa don’t know, they’re gonna be so excited.”

“Danny! Calm down, no I haven’t told Ma and Pa, I didn’t want to worry them.”

Danny is confused “worry them, why would this make them worried?” Clark sighs

“Conner was made by lex Luthor, my arch enemy, with the intent to replace me.” Danny takes a step back, Conner looks away dejected even as his friends gather close around him.

The room goes cold

“Dude I think you need to chill” Danny says with an sharp grin. “I mean a clone I understand out of your control? A clone made by your arch enemy to replace you? I mean seriously, has he even tried to shoot you in the back yet?”

“He didn’t ask to be made, so stop treating him like it’s HIS fault.” Danny’s eyes have started to glow as the room seems to close in on them before all at once everything goes back to normal. Superman takes a gasp of air. Danny laughs “gonna be honest though, it kinda feels like you’re copying me at this point.” He says moving over to Conner, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “But let’s make one thing straight, and I mean absolutely no offense, but my clone is clearly superior.” Conner and Clark look at Danny shocked. “Your WHAT?!?” Danny laughs

“Yeah man, when I was 14 my arch nemesis cloned me in a attempt to replace me, didn’t work, only one was stable and she wants nothing to do with him at this point.” Clark looks at Danny pleadingly “that…that doesnt explain anything, why did you have an arch enemy.”

“Well I mean, originally he asked me to join him, but I’m wasn’t really a fan of him killing my dad and marrying my mom. He was obsessed with making me his son, major fruitloop man he’s crazy.” Danny shrugs.” Kid flash laughs

“I’m calling bullshit there’s no way.”

Danny laughs “think what you like but don’t come crying to me when Ellie haunts your nightmares”

Danny claps his hands “So what exactly are we doing today?”

——————

Meanwhile in the arctic in another dimension

a small girl is chasing after a group of penguins when a portal appears in front of her and she crashes face first into the large blue bearded figure that exits.

“CLOCKWORK!!” She laughs “wanna chase penguins with me?” The elderly ghost grins

“Perhaps another time, for now how would you like to visit your cousin for a little while. There’s some people that are DYING to meet you.”

The girl gives him an impossibly wide Sharp grin before letting out maniacal laugh

“Lead the way clocks!”

#danny phantom #ghost king danny #dc x dp #brain vomit #life on the farm pt 4 #sorry for the wait #this never ends #send help #hint of future cold current #maybe #Clark Kent #Conner Kent #SHES COMING!!!#there’s gonna be another part #I’m not sure when this is ending

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crooked-haven · 3 months

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Crush | Hwang Hyunjin Oneshot

➭ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x (F) Reader

➭ Genre: Fluff, Little bit of Angst

➭ Warnings/Tags: Cursing, Kinda Sad, Fever Dream

➭ Disclaimer: All members of STRAY KIDS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are purely coincidental. Also this is my story so please don’t steal!

➭ By: serendipity_haven (Taexxgukkie & crooked-haven)

Word count: 1k

-Y/n's Pov-

"Come on! Die Die Die!" I screamed in excitement while punching the character in front of me. "You're cheating Y/n! Button smashing is an instant L!" Lucas screamed in game rage since I won for the 5th time in a row. "Come on guys, food is here." I shut off the console and got up off of the floor, stretching out my cramps. "What's for dinner Hyunjin?" I say in a yawn. "Pizza, use your eyes." he answers while stuffing his face. I roll my eyes playfully and grab my own slice, meat lovers my favorite. I sit at the kitchen table while everyone eats in silence, it's just us three here since Hyunjin's parents are on a business trip.

Lucas, Hyunjin's 13 year old brother invited me over for some video games and how could I resist? I would get to see my crush, yes it's Hyunjin, we are what you would call, childhood friends. I'm aware that he has a girlfriend, but that doesn't stop me from crushing silently. What's not to like about him? He is charming, funny and sweet, so much more- "Hello???" Hyunjin waves his hand in front of my face and I come back to reality. "What?" I answer while taking another bite of my pizza. "You were drooling!" Lucas says while laughing at me. My face instantly heats up to a dark cherry red and I roll my eyes. "I was not, I was thinking!" I can hear the snickering but I ignore it.

-Time Skip to 9 PM-

"Well now that Lucas is asleep I better go now." I say giving Hyunjin a side hug. I am a little sad to be leaving and part of me wishes he would ask me to stay but I had this gut feeling that he just wasn't going to. He has a girlfriend, he probably wants to call her over instead- "Earth to Y/n!?" I snap back to reality yet again, only to realize that I was staring at Hyunjin. "Is your main hobby just staring at my beautiful face?" He smirks mockingly. I scoff and sigh. "Absolutely not! I was just-" he cut me off. "Thinking, I know." I walked over towards the door. "Nothing wrong with thinking you know."

"I know, but where do you think you're going? I didn't rent a whole movie for you to just not watch it Y/n." I look at him confused as he makes his way over towards me, gently pushing me into the living room. I sit on the couch and ask what he means. "I rented the Avatar 2 for you! You wouldn't shut up about it last week, my poor ears!" He jokes acting hurt. I instantly feel better, I get to watch a 3 hour long movie with my crush, alone! Even though this isn't anything new, it still feels so exciting, but then the sick feeling inside me came back up when I remembered his girlfriend. "I am flattered Hyunjin, I really am but I honestly think you should watch it with Luna.." I say, faking a smile.

He sits next to me and gently grabs my hand, I can feel the heat creeping up to my face again, and he speaks in a low tone. "Me and Luna broke up 3 months ago." I gasp, how could he not tell me this? As much as I was jealous of her place in his life, she was honestly such a great friend. "Why didn't you tell me? What happened?" He looks down, avoiding eye contact before breaking the silence. "Nothing happened I just realized I had feelings for someone else as did she." Yeah that stung, but I can't blame him, the heart wants what it wants. I push his hand off of mine and hug him, a friendly hug. "I am sorry, I hope all goes well with this new one." All hopes I had were thrown down the stairs, but I really can't be mad at him.

As I stand up, he quickly speaks again, making me freeze. "It's you Y/n, it's always been you." I step back, too stunned to speak but quickly punch his shoulder. "That's not a funny thing to joke about! You asshole!" I slam my hands on my hips and he starts laughing. God damn it, I knew it! "Y/n, I'm not joking this time I swear, I really like you." My body relaxes and my eyebrows knit together. "Me? Why me?" He stands up and walks closer towards me, stopping in front of me, reaching out. "Because you're you." Wow the butterflies I feel, I think they're doing summersaults. "So you could say...that I am your crush?" He snorts. "If we were like 12!" I love his sarcasm. "I like you too Hyunjin." He smiles and nods.

"I know, you love staring at me, and besides Lucas told me." "I am going to kill that little gremlin!" "Well before you do, let's make this official." He slides his hand onto my waist and pulls me closer, gently tucking a loose strand of my Y/H/C hair behind my ear. I feel my breath fastening, this is all I have ever dreamed of, it's almost happening! I close my eyes waiting for a kiss. After 2 seconds of nothing, I open my eyes to a pitch black room. I was dreaming the whole time. I glance at my alarm clock and read 4:26 am, god damn it!

End♥︎

A/N-

Sorry for the small heartache I may have caused, I just really like these types of day dreamy stories!

Anyways I hope you all have a fantastic day/night and see you soon don't forget to leave a heart~ <3

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shu-box-puns · 8 months

Text

I never would have given you to them; not for anything (Tsu'tey x Reader)

Last Chapter <- Part 3 -> Next Chapter

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Summary: It is said that Na'vi are defined by their actions. And oh boy, what a statement you make.

Word Count: 7832

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

NOTE: The term 'Zaza' is a gender neutral way to address a parental figure.

The Well of Souls was almost how Tsu’tey had left it a week ago. Eerie and quiet as if the Great Mother herself slumbered beneath the soft moss, her breath disturbing the glowing vines of her Tree with her every exhale. Today, however, the quiet was disturbed by the voices of the children, both soft spoken and respectful, but no less passionate.

<”Will they be okay, Kiri?”> Little Tuk asked from somewhere within the bowl, her tone laced with childish worry and hope. At Tsu’tey’s side, Neytiri’s ears perked as her steps quickened. Jake was no less eager as he increased his pace, rounding the cliffs to the sloping side of the Well of Souls. Tsu’tey followed.

<”They will heal.”> Kiri finally said in that all-knowing voice of her’s. The one that imbued the wisdom of a Tsahik into her words. <”But it will take time.”>

<”We do not have time.”> Neteyam interjected, anxiety evident in his tone.

Fluidly, Neytiri leapt over a fallen log as she came to the lip of the slope into the Well of Souls. She paused only long enough to scan the immediate undergrowth, an arrow notched and her tail flicking to and fro. Jake brushed past her, starting a calculated descent whilst his mate watched his back. Tsu’tey brought up the rear, soothed by the calm conversation happening below as well as the sounds of birds in the canopy above. For now, all was well.

<”It will be getting dark soon.”> Lo’ak interjected, <”if we’re taking them back to the clan, we should call the ikran.”>

None of the adults vocalised their presence, weary of Neteyam’s earlier reports of recoms lurking between the trees. Instead, like they had so many times before, the trio moved with quiet purpose. Conscious that surprise would be an advantage.

<”Mother told us to leave them here.”> Neteyam immediately argued.

<”Not everyone is like Dad!”> Lo’ak countered, <”and not every marine who stumbles out here is blessed by Eywa. If we leave them, they will die.”>

<”Perhaps we should do that then.”> Neteyam bit back almost immediately, anger edging into his tone. The malicious words echoing around the silent cliffs. The older boy sighed heavily, and Tsu’tey could tell by Lo’ak’s silence that he was glaring hard at his brother.

A sharp inhale from Neytiri briefly drew his attention from the verbal sparring match. The huntress motioned with her notched bow to a booted footprint imprinted into an especially thick clump of moss beside her foot. The footprints led further down the slope and into the bowl. Together, the trio followed the trail.

They came across the body before any of the children responded. It was a recom, left crumbled where it had been shot dead and left to bleed its nutrients back into the earth from two arrow wounds cut into its torso. Tsu’tey smelt smoke lingering on the body’s clothes, and knew the soldier had used his weapon before he was disposed of.

<”Whatever these things are, they are unnatural.”> Neteyam continued, <”dead people should not continue to walk Eywa’eveng.”>

To Tsu’tey’s surprise, it was Spider who responded.

<”Bro, you don’t mean that.”>

<”You heard your Dad.”>

Tsu’tey winced.

<”Yeah, well, obviously he got it wrong. He’s grieving, he’s going to jump to conclusions.”> Spider blurted, scrambling to get his words out before Neteyam could expand on his statement. He laughed nervously, <”it was probably just the shock. You know he’s been a bit on edge recently. I’m sure that when we take them home, he’ll change his mind. Yeah! He’s got to. Right?”>

The dead soldier was completely forgotten now. He stepped over the body, finding himself in the open space of the bowl with the graves tucked away in the far corner, guarded by the Great Mother’s tree. Which was where he found the kids, all perched upon Eywa’s throne, hidden between the coiling roots.

He hadn’t even considered questioning where the recom was, despite them being the topic of the conversation, but Tsu’tey didn’t have to wonder for long. Not after he drew nearer and immediately realised that the children were crowded around a wounded body.

Spider’s panicked words slammed into the side of his face as bile slid up Tsu’tey’s throat as he took in the state of the recom. The blood splattered clothes, the state of its feet, muddy and streaked with cuts and dirt. The limp way it had been arranged within the roots, clearly breathing, but only just. Kiri crouched above its torso, smearing a herbal paste over bullet wounds that Tsu’tey could smell even from such a distance. The body did not so much as twitch under her careful ministrations, its face the optime of calm.

Spider was holding tightly onto one of their limp hands, his knuckles white.

<”Spider,”> Kiri sighed, wiping her messy hands on her thigh before taking some offered leaf bandages from Tuk with a grateful incline of her head. She let the name hang in the air whilst she carefully wrapped the wound. <”This isn’t of Eywa’s doing-”>

Spider’s face scrunched up under her careful words, before he promptly interrupted her. <”But what if this was Grace?”> He asked, something desperate brewing in his tone. <”What if it was your mum that found us? You would have fought my Dad to protect her, no questions asked. Regardless of whether her body was made by the demons.”>

<”Spider-”> <”Don’t pretend to understand, because you don’t!”> Spider snarled. His raised his head from staring down at his Zaza, to fix the other children with a sharp look. Wisely, they did not try to interrupt him. <”Eywa, I hate this. I finally got my Zaza back and you’re all pretending like it’s a fucking omen or something.”> He paused, fury burning in his eyes. <”Which they’re not! They’re exactly as they’ve always been! Just like Dad and Jake described them! They didn’t fucking know us and they still protected us! TWICE NOW! Bad people don’t do that!”>

<”Spider.”> Tuk whispered, <”you’ll wake them up.”> Spider’s fury abruptly spluttered out. <”We’re not sure if they <i>will</i> wake up.”> He told her gently, to which Tuk let out a quiet little, “oh.”

Fuck stealth, Tsu’tey hated that tone on his son. He despised the anger, the wobble of his voice as emotion tried to get the better of him. He picked up his pace, growing closer by the second as Spider grew quiet. The grip he had on the recom’s hand became like the desperate hold of a survivor on a lifeline.

Spider turned to look at Neteyam, who stubbornly held his gaze. <”If this was your Dad, if he had died and this was your only connection to him, you would be fighting just as hard as me!”> His gaze snapped to Lo’ak. <”No, fuck that, you’d be fighting even harder than I am.”>

Tsu’tey couldn’t hear anymore. He wouldn’t survive it. He hadn’t even noticed Spider was feeling this way. And what kind of father was he? To not notice his own son hurting. Regardless of his own grief, Tsu’tey should have been better. Should have been paying more attention.

Neteyam spotted him first over Spider’s shoulder, his pinned ears flying upwards in acknowledgement. This of course drew the attention of the rest of them, including Spider who seemed almost reluctant to acknowledge anyone else entering the Well of Souls. The words were trapped in Tsu’tey’s tight throat, so he allowed Jake to call ahead, asking if everyone was okay.

Neteyam might have answered him. Or perhaps it was Kiri. Tsu’tey wasn’t listening enough to care. All of his attention had gone to Spider. To the tears pearling on his lashes, which his boy refused to let fall. To the way he clutched the recom’s limp hand in both of his, clinging tightly.

<”You better be about to apologise.”> His son warned him, eyebrows drawn tight. His posture screaming defensive.

Tsu’tey’s own expression broke. He felt his icy bravado melt into something pulsing and raw. Something that encouraged him to drop his bow, to cast aside his arrows and drop into a kneel at his son’s feet. Words were still beyond him, but he knew Spider was picking up on his micro expressions. He knew from the widening of his son’s eyes that he could see Tsu’tey’s regret in the lowering of his ears, the thinning of his lips.

<”Son-”> <”No!”> Spider jumped in immediately, his expression fierce. Tsu’tey noted how he reared up onto his knees, hovering over the recom in a position that could not have been easy on his thighs. An easily defensible position, another part of Tsu’tey’s brain provided. <”Don’t try to talk me out of this! I’ve been good. I’ve listened, and now you’re going to listen to me before they die, again!”>

That stung. Enough that Tsu’tey had to suppress a flinch. Lips thinning, he managed a disjointed nod. Despite himself, he felt a swell of pride inflating in his chest despite the tone the boy was taking with him. If Spider needed to feel in control for the moment, then he would allow it. There would be plenty of time for a proper conversation later, when it was safe.

<”What happened?”> Tsu’tey finally pushed out, eyes flickering from Spider’s face to the body.

<”Zaza, they-”> Spider swallowed loudly, <”they got shot.”> Tsu’tey wanted to reach out and put a steady hand on his son’s shaking shoulder, but restrained himself. Despite Spider’s posture screaming uncertainty, Tsu’tey knew it might not be what he wanted right now. Spider would ask for comfort, when he felt he needed it, and not a moment before. So although he clung tightly to the recom’s hand and shifted as if he wanted to curl into Tsu’tey like he always did when he was scared, Tsu’tey made no move to invade his space. Instead, he remained patient and quiet, allowing Spider to gather himself.

Spider stayed put, so so did Tsu’tey.

<”They took a cartridge of bullets defending Lo’ak. We need to get them home.”>

Tsu’tey nodded, slow and steady. That was the plan before coming here. If anything, this simply cemented what Mo’at had been trying to tell him. He looked at his son now. His boy, and knew Spider already felt it. That thin, fragile connection between parent and child, however strained. Neytiri’s shadow passed over Tsu'tey, her steps quiet and respectful as she rounded the body to crouch at Kiri’s side, her eyes flicking over the bandages. <”Are they stable?”> She asked, glancing briefly at Spider, who dipped his head in a nod, before leaning in to check for a pulse.

Her eldest daughter told her they were, before leaning back to allow her mother to work and offer a second opinion. Despite being only fourteen, Kiri was well versed in the practices of a Tsahik thanks to Mo’at, but Neytiri had countless more years of experience and learning on her hands.

<”Eywa has kept them from drifting far.”> Kiri offered as Neytiri worked. Clicking her tongue, Neytiri withdrew her hand. <”Indeed.”> She agreed, pausing to squeeze Kiri’s knee in ‘well done’, before reaching up and pulling the recom’s kuru free from the Tree. The braid fell with a soft thump to the roots, but the body did not stir. Tsu’tey held his breath, knowing, even with his severe lack of spiritual and medical understanding, that that was not a good sign.

Spider clung even tighter to the recom’s hand. His other slipping down to cup the back of it, his little thumb idly tracing circles into cool skin.

<”Strange.”> Neytiri rumbled aloud, leaning over the still body to peel back its eyelids and peer into its lax pupils. Their eyes did not move. The pupils hardly contracted from the glow of the Tree. Neytiri clicked her hand on either side of its head, checking for a reaction, a flick of their ears or a wince. The recom breathed but did not wake.

<”How bad is it?”> Jake asked, standing upon the moss at the foot of the throne. He had one hand on his gun, whilst Tuk had at some point slithered away from Kiri’s side and gotten herself picked up by her father. She was tucked into his neck now, watching the scene with large, thoughtful eyes.

<”Not good.”> Neytiri said simply, <”the Tree should have offered enough energy for them to resurface. But they are not. The connection was not strong enough.”>

<”What could possibly be stronger than the Tree of Souls.”>

<”The bond.”> Neytiri said simply, then turned to Tsu’tey who called on every ounce of pride he owned to not shrink back. His stomach somersaulted under Neytiri’s measured gaze, her expression all business as she seemed to look into him. Her tone was slightly softer when she continued, losing some of a professional sharpness. <”I am sure you do not need me to explain it.”> He didn’t, but that didn’t mean he was tripping over himself to do what was needed.

His stomach was trying to twist itself into unpleasant knots with the implications of it. With the idea that he would have to touch his kuru to the recoms in order to wake them. That it would emotionally mean nothing beyond survival.

Throughout his life, Tsu’tey had seen this form of healing performed before, after hunting mishaps or riding accidents that left Mo’at worrying whether the patient would wake again. Setting aside the complex spiritual and social beliefs about one’s kuru, the practice was practically undoubtedly reliable and used as a last resort. Borrowed from the early stages of a na’vi’s life when the child shared Tsaheylu with their parent, the bond allowed oxygen and nutrients to be passed from one body to another. Biologically, it helped rouse an unconscious patient, and in some cases, prevent death from coming to pass.

Tsu’tey could feel his family’s eyes on him, the silent concern of Jake at his back. The sharp, uncertain feeling of Spider’s gaze burning into the side of his head. The confusion of the other children. Neytiri’s eyes were steady and confident when he met them, a stark contrast to how Tsu’tey felt.

<“There is nothing else that can be done?”> Tsu’tey asked, just to be sure. He did not want to form a connection that was not necessary. Not if he didn’t have to. But if the bond would allow everyone to return to High Camp a little bit quicker, he would do it. The less time spent in the forest, the better.

<”Not here.”> Neytiri told him, and that was enough for Tsu’tey.

He sighed quietly to himself before rising and shuffling around to the recom’s head, now that he wasn’t blinded by rage, he could see his mate more clearly in their features. He could study the patterns of their glowing freckles and could relax in the newness. Their shell may be different, but if what his son had said was true, then their mind would be familiar to him. It might even feel like returning home.

<”Fine.”> Tsu’tey gritted out through tight teeth.

Neytiri nodded, reached over the body to grasp his knee and offer a tight squeeze of comfort. Her eyes caught his and held, seriousness taking over everything else. <”You need only pull them to the surface with you.”> She instructed him, sounding so much like her mother. <”Do not probe and do not get lost.”>

He nodded.

Spider had relaxed slightly throughout the interaction, something in him soothed now that Tsu’tey had made it clear that he did not intend to inflict harm. And as Tsu’tey pulled his kuru over his shoulder, his son shuffled closer to his side, as he always did when Tsu’tey prepared to disconnect from the world and get lost in Tsaheylu. Tsu’tey did not acknowledge the action, eyes steady on his own hands as Spider leaned more heavily into his side, seeking the comfort he did not feel comfortable asking for with so many eyes present. As compensation, Tsu’tey loosely curled his tail behind his son, not touching, but offering a makeshift border of security.

Kuru in hand, Tsu’tey stole a moment for himself to breathe. In and out. Smooth and simple. He could feel his nerves within the braid thrumming in anticipation as he carefully reached for the recom’s kuru. The hair was recently washed and cared for, and almost soft beneath his finger despite the ordeal it had suffered after hours in the rain and the mud. The weight was like any other kuru, and had nothing alien about it. Tsu’tey took comfort from that as he brought the end close to his own; both sets of tendrils were already eagerly reaching for one another.

The bond wrapped around him like an embrace, urging his eyelids closed and loosening the tension from his shoulders. Then it grew taught and dragged him mercilessly down, down, down. Tsu’tey allowed it. He could still feel the moss against his legs. The warmth of Spider now leaning fully into his side. He was still present, even as he spiralled.

At first, there was no scene, only darkness and the throb of emotions Tsu’tey couldn’t name. He focused hard, opening his mind to the fog. Allowing it to enter him as he entered into it. He met no resistance, and for a moment, the entity seemed to hold its breath. Then it yielded to him.

His surroundings faded into existence slowly.

He was in the Well of Souls still, but the entire clan was here with him, decked out in war paint and rallying weapons. Clans from all over poured into the bowl, whooping to passing ikran riders and hunters on pa’li.

It was the night before the Battle for The Tree of Souls, Tsu’tey realised. But the recom would have no recollection of this night, so he must have pushed harder than he originally realised for him to be seeing his own memory within Tsaheylu.

Across the way, he saw Jake’s avatar with Neytiri, talking amongst themselves beneath the metal ikran. He saw himself there too, stood at the foot of Eywa’s throne, painted in yellow and navy and decked out in his war beads. His younger self had his back to him, but Tsu’tey could clearly see the proud sway of his tail, the way he held himself with the arrogance of a newly appointed Olo’eyktan.

On unsteady feet, Tsu’tey approached himself. This younger version of himself who was still so free of the burdens he was yet to shoulder. The version of himself still ignorant to the true might of the Sky People and would later be betrayed critically by one of his own people.

This version of himself towered over the human body of his mate before they became his mate. The human sat comfortably among the weaving roots of Eywa’s throne, wearing Sky Person camouflage armour and decked out in bright yellow war paint. The image was enough to jog Tsu’tey’s memory.

He often recalled this encounter fondly, as it was the first time he’d truly begun to respect his mate. It had also been one of the first times he’d realised just how much the infuriating Sky Person had really meant to him.

Even now, he could recall the bitter sting of panic on the back of his tongue, when the metal ikran had returned with a wounded Grace and no Y/n. Within moments of Jake reappearing, he had been demanding confirmation they were still alive, to which Jake had assured them that Trudy planned to return to Hell’s Gate by eclipse to retrieve them, since they had unfinished business to tie up before making an escape. He had grumbled his displeasure and sulked until his not mate had returned to the People.

This image before him, with his not mate seated proudly upon Eywa’s throne whilst Tsu’tey stood confidently at their feet, had been their first conversation following a brief reunion. It had been a rocky period of their relationship, with betrayal pushing a wedge between them, after HomeTrees destruction. Tsu’tey had felt raw and explosive. Annoyed by the infuriatingly neutral face they constantly wore beneath their mask as they cleaned and repaired a weapon Tsu’tey knew would kill a Na’vi with three shots, and obliterate a Sky Person in one.

The him of the present approached the duo, ears pricking at the tell tales signs of snarled conflict between these past versions of themselves. They were so young here. So unaware of what trials were yet to come.

“-you are a Demon!” His younger self spat, to which the human soldier drew themselves up tall. Their expression smoothed out to something similar to what Eytukan usually wore when he was conducting crucial business. “How can I possibly trust you after everything that has happened?”

His not mate took their sweet time responding, essentially leaving Tsu’tey’s younger self to wait in line for their attention. They took their time, drawing it out, testing whether or not Tsu’tey would stay or storm off in a huff. As he knew he would, his younger self remained where he stood, impatiently waiting for them to respond.

And when they did, it was as slow and deliberate as a palulukan stalking its prey. Their expression held poorly suppressed fury, something roiling and barely controlled. It had Tsu’tey’s younger self shifting on his feet, but he did not step back.

“Trust my rage.” They told his counterpart simply. “Trust that and nothing else, if you must.”

The yellow war paint smeared across their brow and dotted along their cheeks beneath their mask beautifully complimented their skin, Tsu’tey thought to himself. His heart twinging at this young, fiery version of his mate. The human held his younger self’s eye, and Tsu’tey watched himself visibly stiffen, before his ears lowered ever so slightly.

He remembered coming to a conclusion at that moment. A realisation, that he had never trusted them more than he did when they looked at him like that. Perhaps it had been the certainty of their tone. Or the familiar narrowing of their eyebrows. Both of which contributed to the look they always wore when they had set their mind on something and would burn the world to accomplish it.

He remembered they had worn that same expression weeks prior when Tsu’tey had goaded them into what was essentially a pissing contest. A stupid competition, so petty that he could barely remember it. It might have had something to do with archery, or perhaps climbing, he wasn’t sure, but whichever it was, they had sent him on his way afterwards with his tail between his legs, and his cheeks blazing in shame.

“Okay.” His past self accepted, before carefully climbing upon Eywa’s throne until he could crouch beside them.

Tsu’tey’s brows furrowed at the action. He did not remember doing that. After his not mate had told him to trust their fury, he had nodded and walked away, his stomach tightening with butterflies. He certainly had not ventured closer, nor had he taken a seat beside them.

His past self completely ignored what Tsu’tey hadn’t done, and continued to stray. “Why did you remain behind within the demon’s compound?” He asked his not mate, who seemed to soften ever so slightly at his curiosity.

That look sent alarm bells ringing through Tsu’tey’s body. At this point, their relationship had been rocky, almost a rivalry rather than a friendship. They certainly hadn’t looked at him like that until months after this, but even then, they had tried their hardest to hide it. “We needed more concrete information, so I got it.” They told his younger self simply, “do you want to See?”

Tsu’tey jumped as their head abruptly lifted from their gun and pinned him in place with serious, unblinking eyes. He took a startled step back, watching the memory watch him with a knowing look.

<”You can see me?”> He breathed, panic creeping into the back of his throat. <”How can you see me?”>

<”You have not done this before, have you?”> His not mate mused, their resulting smile bittersweet. <”I See you.”> They told him, <”and yet, you do not.”> <”I do not understand.”>

<”You will.”> They reassured him before rising to their feet. <”But only if you trust me.”> They extended a hand, palm facing up, as small and innocent as they had always pretended to be. Tsu’tey knew from experience that their palm would be calloused, their fingers short but strong.

He barely spared his younger self a second glance as he slowly approached. Eyes flickering from their outstretched hand to their sure expression and the war paint adorning their determined little face. Slowly, he raised his hand to grasp their’s. The size difference was comical, but somehow, it worked for them, like it always had.

<“You wish to See, do you not?”> They asked him one last time, as if to offer him a chance to back out. Tsu’tey looked at them, really looked at them. Up into the face he had loved and lost. <“I do.”> He admitted.

And for a moment, nothing happened as the world seemed to have lulled to a halt as he spoke. His younger self frozen with his eyes still trained on the side of the human’s face.

In contrast, his mate moved freely, their little fingers grasping his a little tighter. <”Good.”> They praised him, then they changed.

Before Tsu’tey’s eyes, his not mate grew into their recom body. Startled, he tried to retract his hand, but their grasp was firm. Before his eyes, they towered over him, still dressed in the military attire of their counterpart, which had grown and shifted to accommodate their larger body. The exomask had disappeared, but the yellow war paint remained. Beneath Tsu’tey’s palm, their callouses had disappeared and their skin was now soft and smooth, as if this body had not yet spent enough time handling a weapon to have need of them.

For some reason, here, in this setting, with the Tree as their witness, and the clan frozen in time, Tsu’tey felt like the recom’s presence was familiar, as if he had sensed it before. But the feeling was dream-like and distant. Small and jumpy as a small animal. Unwilling for him to catch the thought to properly understand it.

As if hearing his thoughts, the recom’s lips quirked upwards into a knowing smile. <”Now you’re catching on.”> They mused.

<”What now?”> Tsu’tey demanded, his patience beginning to wane.

<”Now, you will See.”> <”You keep saying that.”> Tsu’tey reprimanded, <”but you do not deliver.”> They smiled. <”So impatient. Come along, Olo’eyktan.”>

They pulled lightly on his arm, causing him to stumble forward and put a foot up on one of the lower roots to keep his footing. Tsu’tey glared up at them and they chuckled lightly, tugging again so that Tsu’tey was forced to step properly up onto the throne. From there he was led to the summit, where the Tree itself poked through the dirt and arched overhead.

<”Where are you leading me?”>

At first, there was no response as he was led around the circumference of the Tree and pulled out of sight of the rest of the camp. Then the recom paused before a metal door that should not have been part of the Tree. Tsu’tey’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it, having seen something familiar attached to the human compounds.

<”Go through here.”>

The recom no longer sounded like Tsu’tey’s mate, and it startled him. The voice that spoke to him could only have been described as naturally powerful; as effortlessly knowing. It was neither male nor female; old nor young. It just was. And somehow, it made sense.

<”Search through the ghosts of your past and find your other half.”> The voice instructed, <”each doorway is a chance. Be thorough and open, only then will you See.”> <”Thank you.”> Tsu’tey breathed as the being dropped his hand and stepped back. They did not turn to face him as Tsu’tey reached for the door that only came up to his midriff. And somehow, he knew they no longer carried the face of his mate upon their alien features. If the being looked at him now, he knew he would not recognise who his eyes flickered up to meet the gaze of.

<”Make me proud.”> Prompted the voice, and Tsu’tey could do little but obey as he opened the door and slithered through.

>_<

He emerged into a corridor of Hell’s Gate, as it was before the humans had left. The tight, greyscale space was flooded with Sky People, all dressed in contrasting uniforms with places to be and determination in their strides.

Immediately, his gaze was drawn to the living ghost of Colonel Quaritch, who commanded a path through the teeming crowd with nothing but his presence. The people heading in the opposite direction to him split around his muscular figure like river water would pass around a mossy rock. The colonel was flanked by two people. One Tsu’tey did not recognise, but one he did.

Here, his mate was human again, dressed in the military attire they wore into the Battle for The Tree of Souls, but with no yellow war paint. They carried a tablet, and easily kept pace with the colonel’s swift strides whilst remaining a step or two behind. The image of a good soldier.

Tsu’tey was not fooled however. He noticed the dangerous glint in his mate’s eye. The smooth way they shifted files around, flicking a couple into the digital bin and others being uploaded to an external network. Normally, Tsu’tey would not know hide nor hair of the Sky People’s complex internet, but the bond must have filtered some of the words over, because somehow, he knew the functions of each button that was pressed as well as the names of everything that was around him.

What he could not place however, was the origin of the undercurrent of energy in the air. It was electrical in nature, and yet could not be traced back to the flickering lights or the electricity pulsing through hidden wires. It was subtle, but powerful. Boiling hotter and hotter like a forest fire that was rapidly getting out of control.

His eyes flickered to his mate’s face as they passed him by, and then it clicked. He noticed the narrowing of their brows as they glared holes into the back of the colonel’s head. He saw the tightening of their grasp on the tablet, the way the metal and glass groaned in protest. Their rage, he realised, had tainted the memory somehow. Had shifted the very air into something tense and dangerous.

“- have the native scuttled off to then, now that their main tree has been blown to shit?” The colonel asked without looking back.

The human walking beside Tsu’tey’s mate responded, all bravado and wonky teeth. “The Well of Souls, sir.” He reported diligently, whilst Tsu’tey found amusement in the way the artificial lighting shone on his hairless scalp.

“Good. Then we can knock out two birds with one stone.” The colonel returned triumphantly, to which the bald one nodded along.

“Excellent idea.” Tsu’tey’s mate replied, although the look on their face suggested it was anything but. “What artillery would we require for such an assault sir?”

The colonel, with the confidence of a man who knew his worth, immediately began listing off numbers and divisions, all of which Tsu’tey’s mate diligently noted down. Judging by the ripple of triumph that passed within the undercurrent of rage, Tsu’tey could tell this information would not remain strictly confidential.

Fondness flared to life as Tsu’tey gazed upon them like this. So confident and full of life. How utterly in their element they were. He could vaguely place the date of the memory, solely based on the Omaticayan style necklace he saw peering out of the collar of their shirt. A begrudging gift from his younger self in an attempt to bridge the gap and form a truce. He now wore that same necklace beneath his wrist guard.

With a lopsided smile, Tsu’tey recalled why exactly he was here in the first place. His task was to pull the recom out of the past and out of their head. In passing back home, he had heard the most common method in Tsaheylu for this was to grab their hand and pull. And with little other ideas to try out, Tsu’tey did.

His phantom form had to stoop to weave around the light fixtures of the tight corridor, but with his long legs, it was effortless to catch up with the trio who had just walked past him. For some reason, the other Sky People in the corridor automatically parted and wove around him as he moved, leaving his path to his goal unobstructed. Tsu’tey almost grinned with how straight forward this was becoming, Neytiri had made it seem like it was going to be harder than this.

And with that in mind, and the distance closing, he reached forward for his mate’s hand. Unsurprisingly, it was tiny compared to his, but warm and solid. Shocked, the human started, leaping to the side as their head whipped up to find the source of the touch.

Their eyes locked with Tsu’tey’s, widened, and then promptly vanished. There was no flicker of the light. Nor was there a dramatic breeze that whisked their particles away. It was simply a case of one moment they were there, and the next, it were as if they had never existed in the first place.

Tsu’tey triumphant grin melted into an open mouth gasp of horror.

Up ahead, the colonel kept striding along as the anger tainting the air promptly dissipated, leaving behind an anxiety so thick that it made Tsu’tey feel physically sick. To the man’s right, walked the bald one, now sporting a tablet and diligently tapping away on it. Neither so much as glanced backwards.

The memory blurred then, drawing Tsu’tey’s attention to another door which was somehow still in focus. Upon first glance, it appeared identical to the one that had let him into the corridor, but Tsu’tey knew it was warped somehow and wouldn’t lead into another room in Hell’s Gate.

>_<

The second door opened out into the belly of HomeTree. The main fire roared in its pit as the clan assembled in the back chamber before Eytukan. Hesitantly, Tsu’tey moved further into the chamber, emotion clogging his chest as nostalgia crept up on him.

His attention was immediately captured by the commotion occuring by the spiral staircase. Unnoticed by his fellow clan members, Tsu’tey wove through the assembled clan, surprised to find Jake stood near the front adjacent to a distinctly human shape decked out in camo gear and an exomask.

<”And this one can be trusted, Jake-Sully?”> Mo’at asked carefully, prowling around the human, who stood dutifully before her, all neutral mask and motionless ears. Her tail swayed in apprehension,

<”Yes.”> Jake insisted, the cummerbund wrapped around his waist signalling that this memory was a few weeks before HomeTree’s destruction. When Eytukan was still Olo’eyktan and the chemistry between Jake and Neytiri was edging towards undoubtable. Vaguely, Tsu’tey even saw himself tucked away on Eytukan’s right, bow in hand and his eyes narrowed in mistrust.

Eytukan nodded in acknowledgement of Jake’s claim before glancing to his mate who continued to circle the soldier.

“What are you called?” She asked in heavily accented English.

At the direct address, the human glanced up. In a clear, respectful tone, they gave the Tsahik their name. Mo’at nodded. “And why do you come to us?” “I seek knowledge for myself.” They told her simply. “The Sky People wreak unnecessary destruction, on both your clan and your home. In exchange for your help, I offer information which you can use to stop them.” The Tsahik hummed thoughtfully. “And what exactly is it exactly, you seek in return? We have learnt that your people do not offer kindness without a price.” Jake shifted uncertainly on his feet, eyes casually glancing down to his friend before he snapped them away to look anywhere else. In contrast, the human remained unphased.

“I want to learn how to fire one of your bows.” They told her, their tone leaving little room for mockery.

Mo’at tilted her head in amusement. “Why?” “All skills are valuable for surviving, even more so on Pandora.” Mo’at nodded thoughtfully at this, a subtle smile creeping onto her otherwise schooled expression. Tsu’tey could tell from the playful prick of her ears that the human had unknowingly pleased her. With her mind made up, Mo’at turned to her mate who had not yet looked away from her. And with a sharp nod, Eytukan lost some of his stiffness.

“Provided that your information is sound,” Eytukan explained firmly, his English rustier than Mo’at but clear enough in Tsu’tey’s opinion. “We shall instruct you in our ways.”

The human dipped their head in thanks, almost too quickly for Tsu’tey to notice the genuine smile creeping onto their features.

The scene warped suddenly as it remade itself, causing Tsu’tey to lurch on his feet. He blinked and found himself no longer in HomeTree’s main chamber, but instead standing in Mo’at’s current tent that sat nestled in the protective hold of High Camp’s mountain cavern.

He held his knife in both of his hands, the blade raised high above his head as if he were planning to bring it down with all of his might. At his feet knelt the body of a recom, shivering in fright with their head bowed respectfully.

“What purpose do you serve? Why have you returned to haunt me?” His own voice spat even though Tsu’tey’s lips hadn’t moved to form the words. “WHY?!”

The recom flinched. Slowly, they lifted their head, peering up at him sheepishly through glittering lashes. Tear tracks marked the apples of their cheeks, causing them to shine too in the jumping flames of Mo’at’s fire.

“I couldn’t stay there.” The recom explained shakily, but all Tsu’tey heard was that the Sky People had thrown out their own, demonic puppet. Had deemed this monstrosity as useless as the rest of their hideous creations. The recom gathered itself and made its voice stronger as it repeated, “I couldn’t stay there, with them. I wanted to come home-” “THIS IS NOT YOUR HOME!” Tsu’tey’s voice that didn’t come from him shrieked, sounding wrecked with grief even to his own ears. “LEAVE!” He commanded, and the recom curled in tighter on itself, a shadow of its former identity. It made no move to get up.

“I’m sorry.” The recom whimpered.

Tsu’tey felt his muscles bunch, the knife rising just a fraction higher like it would before he delivered a lethal blow. Preparing now to bring it down on the kneeling recom’s head.

Across the fire, Mo’at stood motionless, her expression unreadable as she simply watched. Unlike what had actually happened, she did not pace or attempt to discourage him. She simply watched. Ominous and silent.

Unlike the scene before, Tsu’tey did not sense rage in the air. Instead, what truly caught his attention was the deep rooted despair that tinted this memory. The heavy, suffocating feeling of grief and regret. It made his arms shake with the effort to keep the knife aloft, and his heart physically hurt with how harshly hope was twisting and turning like a thing trapped, within the heavy folds of panic.

“I’m sorry.” The recom repented, and Tsu’tey felt the guilt settle like a cloak on his shoulders, making his chest heavy and his throat tight enough that the muscles strangled any words of comfort he attempted to offer.

I’m sorry.

The recom whispered again in English, but somehow, Tsu’tey knew their lips were not moving as his hadn’t. Instead, the words felt like they had been spoken directly into his mind as one would send and receive words through Tsaheylu.

The words now were spoken barely above a whisper, almost unrecognisable in their quietness. They were spoken again, just as softly, if not a little more desperately. Then again. And again. Faster and faster. Louder and louder until it felt like the desperate begging was banging around inside Tsu’tey’s skull. Desperately thrashing, searching for relief, but trapped regardless in an eternal purgatory. Deafening him with their desperation.

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.

He scrunched his eyes closed at the sheer volume. Simultaneously trying to stave off some of the dizziness from the speech in which each desperate word was being uttered, until they bled together. New ones piled onto the last before they had even finished being uttered.

I’m sorry

Their voice shook with remorse, and Tsu’tey knew they meant it with every fibre of their new body. He knew they regretted ever turning up on his doorstep. He could feel it. Could taste the regret on his tongue, sharp as the tang of yovo juice.

I’m sorry I’m sorry

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.I’msorRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRY!I’MSOR-

Abruptly, it stopped.

Everything just stopped.

Slowly, Tsu’tey peeled his eyes open. His hands felt sticky, similar to how they felt after he’d just skinned and prepared an animal for the clan meal.

The recom swayed on their knees, staring at the ground. Tsu’tey shifted on his feet, they did not flinch. Nor did they look up. He swallowed audibly, only the crackle of the fire punctuated the silence as he waited. Knowing, deep down, that something was about to happen.

Predictably, it did.

Mo’at, who had been silent up until that point, tutted once, the simple sound wreaking of disappointment. Tsu’tey glanced at her, but she only had eyes for the recom. The recom, who was slowly tipping to the side, like an old tree bowing against a strong wind, its ancient roots losing the strength to hold it up any longer. Further and further until they collapsed onto their side and sprawled out across the floor. There, they gurgled weakly, but said nothing more.

Distantly, Tsu’tey heard his knife collide with the floor mats, spraying red in its wake. His hands shook at his sides, warm and sticky. He didn’t have to look to know they were streaked with blood.

Before his eyes, the recom had reverted back to its human form. To the body Tsu’tey had buried in the Well of Souls with his son strapped to his back, catching up on some desperately needed sleep. As he stared down into big, yellow eyes, all he could see were the glassy, lifeless eyes of his mate. His other half who had been ripped from him too soon.

The similarities of that memory with this image lying dying before him now, spurred him into action. He ignored the blood, ignored the uncomfortably steady gaze of Mo’at, and dropped to his knees beside the body. Panic slid up his throat like bile, causing his hands to shake as he reached for the recom. His fingers outstretched for their limp hand in search of a pulse.

And as before, the moment his skin made contact, they disappeared.

Only the blood remained on the rug.

>_<

When he felt well enough to move, he stumbled through a new door that appeared to him the moment they disappeared.

This time, he emerged into the forest. Rain soaked his braids in seconds as Tsu’tey glanced aimlessly around the tightly packed trees that glowed in the gloom brought on by a sudden storm.

Somehow, through the dense foliage, he noticed a squad of recom soldiers, each holding a na’vi child hostage.

“It protected the children.” Neytiri had told him, back at High Camp, and now, it seemed Tsu’tey would bear witness to the evidence behind such a claim.

In his peripheral, Tsu’tey watched the unmistakable silhouette of Jake picking his way through the undergrowth, his axe glinting faintly. Movement in the treetops drew the hunter’s attention to Neytiri sticking close to the trunk of a sturdy tree, seamlessly blending in with it as she rounded the circumference. He watched her take a breath, pull back her bow string, and fire. Following the path of the arrow, Tsu’tey witnessed it find its mark and send the recom squad into a frenzy.

Easily, he located his mate, who had Lo’ak by the kuru. Both watched the chaos as the other soldiers scrambled for cover. Neytiri notched another arrow, and the gunfire began retaliating.

As the fight began to gain heat, the recom released Lo’ak and smoothly stepped back into the undergrowth. He watched them wave him away and slip further into the shadows, which Lo’ak promptly took advantage of to find Tuk and urge her away from the fight.

Spider tearing past Tsu’tey’s hiding spot, promptly pulled the hunter’s gaze from the recom. His son, who was still cuffed, had Kiri by the arm and was dragging her from the scene. Together, they kept each other on their feet as they found a sloping tree trunk and hauled themselves up off of the forest floor.

The scene shifted with them, and Tsu’tey found himself standing motionless on a wide branch, looming behind his niece who was kneeling over the edge, yelling down to Spider. Stepping closer, Tsu’tey followed her panicked gaze to find his mate hauling Spider up into their arms.

Soaked and exhausted, the kid held onto whatever part of them he could get ahold of as they fought to hold him and get their shoes off. Somehow, they did it though, and within seconds they were messily trying to scale the hillside. Within seconds, the recom was breathing hard, cursing and wincing as they tried to grasp onto unstable branches and loose plants.

They were barely within reach, but Kiri didn’t care as she leaned dangerously forward, bound arms outstretched to lend a hand. Her arms were just a fraction too short.

Far below, torches flashed as the rest of the squad swept the undergrowth. It would only be a matter of glancing up to find their target.

Stupidly, Tsu’tey dropped to his knees beside his niece and leant across the distance. With ease, he caught one of the recom’s wrists and heaved hard. They slid up the slope, grabbing uselessly at anything within reach. They were almost there.

And then they vanished.

Without warning, Spider plummeted down through the trees with a terrified shriek, straight into the waiting arms of Miles Quaritch.

>_<

Another corridor. Another puppet. Another unavoidable similarity.

>_<

Another door, this time leading to an unfamiliar cave, which led to another phantom that disappeared under Tsu’tey’s desperate touch.

>_<

Another door. Another camp long forgotten by the world and only loved by memory. Another shadow of the past. Over and over again.

Last Chapter <- Part 3 -> Next Chapter

#using Tsaheylu for medical reasons #Tsu'tey x reader #Tsu'tey #tsu'tey avatar #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan #avatar #recom reader

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windtooweem · 1 year

Text

Mockingbird - Eminem

How are they like as your parent figure

For Pidge I’m gonna do it as sibling figure because their younger

They/Them reader

Platonic

Allura the last season fucking broke me

She will call you her little Princess/Prince

She will put you above all else

She will tell you old fairytales about her planet and will tell you story’s about her childhood

She will sing to you too 🥰

Coran is your weird uncle

Coran Coran the gorgeous man is very passionate dramatic

So Allura tells you to not listen to him

She’ll take you to the hologram of her father to meet you

He is a good grandma

Lance will try to get close to you because of your relationship with Allura

Shiro SPACE FATHER

I live for space dad

Such a good yet tired dad

So many children and a weird man with a mustache

Keith is your unofficial sibling and babysitter

Shiro likes to spend quite moments with you instead of the common yelling from most of the team

Will carry you in his his arms like a baby when you’re tired no matter how much you fight him off

Likes to fidget with your hair a lot and try different styles with it

Will hurt anyone who hurts you

Lance he’s my spirit animal

He baby’s you

Will support you no matter how stupid or dumb something is

Never stops you from doing something unless it’s bad

You get better treatment for Keith which makes Lance confused

He’s like: we’ve known each other longer, I mean I appreciate you treating my kid nice but what???

Will shove your face with Hunks glass cookies unaware that their not edible 💀

When he finds out he’s at your feet, kissing and begging for forgiveness

Will play video games with you and Pidge

Dad jokes so many of them

Keith he’s so pretty also him and Shiro look related in the Gifs I put

Very worried father

If you think he worries about Shiro too much imagine how much he worries about you

Will train with you daily just so he’s reassured that you can defend yourself

When you’re in battle he is somewhere around you even if you can’t see him, he’s there and he’s gonna kick some ass

Is your impulse control

Kosmo the space wolf Loves you so much

Krolia sees you and Keith as baby Keith and her husband when he was still alive

Isn’t the best at affectionate but he will give you the occasional pat on the head or back when a mission has gone right

When he found out he was part Galra he tried to hide it as long as he could scared of that you would say

Relaxed when you said that you didn’t care and the race doesn’t define someone

Hunk grandma is that you???

He acts more like a grandma than a dad

The favoritism is there

When you get back on earth he introduced you to his family as his child

Will put the most food on your plate

Will say “here’s some food for the road” then he’ll give you a whole turkey

Don’t ask where he got it

He’s another father who baby’s you

When you get injured he’s fretting over you even if you have a little scratch

You also spend a lot of time with Pidge as well

Pidge so god damn pretty I need to date someone like her

Gremlin sibling

Will drag you into all of their stuff

Will jump anyone who hurts you

She doesn’t even hide her favoritism

She wants everyone to know that you’re her favorite and nothing will change that

Will BEG her parents and her brother to adopt you

They probably will

She will drag you everywhere with her

They’ll play video games with you as you and them beat Lance at Mario cart

Will talk about science to you all the time

Matt sees you as a sibling too

Their parents sees you as their child as well

#platonic x reader #voltron x reader #vld x reader #allura x reader #shiro x reader #lance x reader #keith x reader #hunk x reader #pidge x reader

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sunshinechay · 5 months

Text

His dad didn’t check in with Sprite a single time this entire episode. Didn’t ask how he was holding up. Didn’t ask if this was becoming too much. Didn’t ask if he thought he could keep going. All he kept asking about was Zee. How is Zee doing? How bad are his injuries? How are you doing with HIS volleyball practices?

Sprite may have volunteered to do it, but that doesn’t mean his own parents can go without checking in on him. Yet they don’t, and Sprite doesn’t even think about asking for it anymore. He doesn’t complain about the toll it’s taking on his body. Having to do both sports. He only complains that he isn’t good at volleyball like Zee is so he caused the team to loss. It’s ironic that Salmon is the only one to ask about this because she isn’t even Sprite’s friend, she’s Zee’s girlfriend. Sprite probably thinks she’s only doing it because she is concerned about Zee’s place on the team, not about Sprite and how soon his body is going to give out from under him.

To watch the hope and light die just a little bit more in Sprite’s eyes each passing day is hard. All anyone cares about is Zee. Zee is the one in the hospital. Zee is the one their mother pours all of her effort into. (I honestly have so much to say about their mother and none of it good). Zee is the golden child that their parents immediately go too when he’s sick or injured.

Zee is the one both of them finally listen to when he tells them to leave his hospital room. Neither can even show the maturity necessarily to hold back arguing about Zee as if he isn’t even there. And if Zee isn’t even there, where exactly is Sprite?

Both of their parents seem to only think about their children in terms of what they can do for them. Zee’s talent in volleyball out weigh Sprite’s talent in jiujitsu to them. Zee is the quiet one who did as they said without comment. Zee is the good child who suffers in silence and does not make trouble, whereas Sprite causes nothing but trouble.

It’s honestly no wonder Zee finally can’t take it anymore. His anger at Sprite might be misplaced, but I get where it is coming from. He can’t suffer in silence anymore. He can’t take the weigh of his mother’s disproportionate expectations and his father’s distance. He can’t take that his brother seems to have a carefree life, void of the constraints of the world. It’s no wonder he wants what Sprite has.

It’s also no wonder why Sprite does what he does. He mouths off to his teammates, not knowing or realizing that they are capable of such extremes (who on earth would want to believe that) and causes Zee’s hospitalization. He wants to do everything he can to get his mother to pay attention to him because for all that he might have come to terms with it, he is still a little boy desperate for his mother’s love and affection, even if it comes with strings as thick as rope for him to dangle himself over the precipitous. Even if in the end, she still won’t give it to him. He still want to make things better for the brother who hates him for something that isn’t even his fault.

Sprite has only been shown time and time again that his parents may take care of him, but they do it because they have too. They do it because he was the plus one to Zee’s birth. They might love him because he is their son, but they do not care about him.

So Sprite tries with the team. Tries to get on their good side and make friends and build something with them because he wants them to like his brother (always his brother, never him). Only to be forced back into the corner and belittled and ignored because he isn’t his brother. He doesn’t have the skills necessary to play like his brother does because it’s impossible to build those skills in only a few short weeks when Zee’s been doing it for years. And he can’t even tell them why he can’t play as well as Zee can because if he does that and one of them tells the coach then the whole team is screwed.

Sprite is walking a dangerously tight rope and he is going to fall one day. He is going to fall and he needs to learn about to catch himself because he knows in his heart he has no safety net. He has no one save a single friend who only knows half the story, who only knows what Sprite tells him. He doesn’t believe he has his family to fall back on. He knows he doesn’t have the team to fall back on. He only has himself because it’s been proven to him time and time again. So he tries his damnest to make sure nothing effects him. He tries so hard to get better at volleyball, to make his parents proud, to make sure he does his best for his teammate, to make sure that his brother has a life and a sport to come back too. He tries so hard NOT to think about the fact that his father doesn’t check in with him when he finally comes clean.

#twins the series #twins the series meta #sprite tts #i am in my feelings right now #poor sprite #and honestly poor zee too #neither of these boys asked for this #but their parents lack of maturity is showing #the fucking look on his mother’s face when zee says he needs to talk to sprite privately #she looks absolutely affronted and for a second i thought she was going to throw some kind of hissy fit #cap watches twins the series #cap speaks

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emmyrosee · 1 year

Note

Eeee welcome back !! How was the vacay??

Also just wanted to let you know your uncle samu/ dad tsumu Drabble gave me baby fever 😭😭😭 pls spare some more crumbs of those two if you can !!

Vacay was okay, thank ya baby! Definitely glad to be home but grateful we were able to get away for a bit 🥰❤️

bUT IM A L W A Y S DOWN TO SPARE ALL I CAN FOR DAD TSUM AND UNCLE SAMU-

———

“Okay, don’t look!”

Atsumu sounded excited, far too excited for the night ahead, and you chuckle as you pass the last child in the group their last piece of candy before closing the door. It was the first Halloween Hisako could walk on her own, and he was beyond excited for the possibilities of costumes with his baby.

And despite the way Atsumu wanted to hide his excitement when Osamu asked if he could trick or treat with them too, you could tell just by the way they’d eyed costumes for the past week that they were far more excited for this than your two year old knew how to be.

“I’m not looking,” you assure, watching the group of kids and their parents toddle down the path of your home. Behind you, you hear the giggles of your daughter and the shuffling of feet, and you keep your promise to keep looking away even though you’re eager to see what they came up with.

“Alright momma,” Atsumu hums, his voice a few feet behind you. “You can turn around.”

Instantly, you do, and your hands immediately come up to cover your mouth at the adorable sight.

Standing before you, decked out in the most easy, comfortable costume they could find, were the famous Miya Twins, dressed as Mike Wazowski and Sulley, the blonde Sulley holding a pink-pajama clad Hisako in his blue arms.

The twins looked so warm you were almost jealous, in their onesies, Osamu’s green hood pulled up and over his head to expose the single eye, while Hisako plays with the blue fur on Atsumu’s own onesie. They look comfortable and positively adorable, and your heart flutters at the sight of the two men blushing as you stare at them with that grin of yours.

“Oh my gosh!” You coo, your hands instantly coming up to cover your mouth. “You three look so cute!”

“Boo!” Hisako cheers, and you watch with complete love in your eyes as the two grown man gasp in fear, their heads whipping towards her in a rehearsed manner. You can’t help but absolutely beam at the sight of the two men in front of you, committed to making a new memory with their favorite little girl.

“How on earth did you come up with this?” You hum, making your way over to Atsumu. You plant a kiss to his cheek, relishing in the way his skin warms up under the affection.

“Well, it was hard to find a trio costume without a… uh…” Osamu gestures to himself “feminine persona-“

“I told you, there were plenty of same-sex couple costumes-“

“Yea, and I told you, that they were still couple based, and that was weird- I’m your brother.”

You snicker at their back and forth for a few more minutes before sighing, “what about Mario and Luigi? Wario and Waluigi? You could’ve made fake jerseys of your high school numbers and been each other. Burger and Fries, Shaggy and Scooby, buzz and woody, you could’ve been sleepy and sneezy and she could’ve been Snow White-“

“Okay, we get it, we had a lot of options,” Atsumu snorts, casting a look to his brother, who’s now rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “How about I say we chose this costume because when we’re done, she’s in her pj’s?”

“I’ll allow it,” you say sweetly. You rise slightly on your tiptoes to gently pinch Hisako’s nose, beaming as she squeals happily, “but I just know you two will be the cutest monsters on the block.”

“Ahem,” Osamu clears his throat dramatically. “I think you mean, three.”

“Of course,” you say, furrowing your brows and nodding in agreement. Your face softens and you pass Osamu a little pumpkin head meant for candy, “go. She has no known allergies and I like fruity candies. Have fun. Be safe.”

“We will, momma,” Atsumu assures, nudging his head towards the door. “You be safe too. Lots of monsters out tonight.”

You roll your eyes in amusement for his double entendres, “I will be. Oh! And take plenty of pictures! I want some for Granny’s gift, since we didn’t get any last year.”

“You got it, baby,” Atsumu chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “We’ll be back soon.”

Sure enough, just about an hour later, when Osamu’s got a sleeping Hisako on his back and Atsumu with a full pail of candy, it’s safe to say Operation: First Halloween was a success.

Especially as you hear them talking about costumes for next year as they make their way to you, in the living room.

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yunomagic · 1 year

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What if: sonic sacrifices himself in sonic the hedgehog 3 instead of shadow?

Okay so before we start this, a key thing i want ppl to remember is that movie sonic is incredibly selfless. Like, when tails got hurt for the first time he immediately jumped straight into danger and refused to accept help from his parents and was also willing to DIE for them in exchange for the safety. No questions asked. Hes rlly just too selfless for his own good, and i imagine that quality carries over to sonic the hedgehog 3

ALSO this is gonna be more based on headcanon cuz, the movie is in two years by the time yall are reading this so yeah dont take my word for it. Do what you will with the following scenario and information. Anyways here we go:

First of all, sonic and shadow are probably going to have an interesting dynamic in the third film. Mainly because of their experience with grief and familial loss. Sonic lost someone who was like a mother to him, shadow lost someone who was like a sister to him. They both failed to save the women that played an important part in their lives and were heavily traumatized by their deaths. How the two hedgehogs deal with their grief is where their paths diverge a little.

Sonic spent ten years living in isolation, being afraid of himself and what people will think of him if he revealed himself to the world. And possibly beat himself up so many times for failing to save longclaw, while trying to make her proud by becoming a hero on the streets. Shadow on the other hand suffered from manipulation under gerald robotnik, who forced him to become humanity’s final destruction, although he was created to help it. And instead of beating himself up, shadow became filled with rage and unspeakable hurt. He found it easier to blame humanity for the death of maria and uses his anger as a driving force for revenge. Which undoubtedly, is a more dangerous path of grief he chose to walk on.

Thus, the two hedgehogs are foils, two sides of the same coin. They arent too dissimilar to each other, especially in the roots of their pasts. They learn that there’s more to the other than just looking like each other. Unfortunately, due to drastic circumstances, one of them is going to relive through their trauma of losing someone all over again, and dealing with that same feeling of loss and self-blame.

Everyone knows how SA2 ends, shadow sacrifices himself to save humanity and dies while doing so. But if the film wants to do something different, (and give everyone a huge punch in the gut), they’re going to twist that fate in some way.

Its already in the title but i still propose it: what if sonic was the one who sacrifices himself instead?

Its the final hour, the bio lizard has been defeated, but the ark is still falling down to earth. Running out of time, shadow blurts out the idea that hes going to use the power of the chaos emeralds to push back the ark into orbit, maybe he can save humanity. Sonic, is dumbfounded, shadow is going to die and he knows it. Shadow knows it too, but what other options are there?

Panicking, sonic defaults to HIS way of solving problems. Talking it out. Fast.

“You can’t just throw away your life like it has no meaning! You— You don’t have to use all that power. You can stay with us back on Earth! You can— you can have a life there! Just like you and Maria would’ve wanted!”

Shadow of course is insistent that this is his destiny. His fate. If hes destined to be the last hope to save humanity, then itd be fitting if he were to die. Sonic is still frightened and restless, he’s getting a familiar itch in his throat and a familiar heaviness in his chest. The same feeling he felt years ago, when he was a small, helpless child.

No. Hes NOT going to lose someone to the same fate again.

“You made a promise to Maria, to keep everyone happy right?”

Shadow glances at sonic, eyes widened, knowingly.

“That includes you too shadow.”

“Are you crazy?! If you do that then—“

“I wont be able to go back home to my parents and my brothers, or the townspeople of Green Hills. I know. But they survived long enough even before i came into their life. They need someone who can keep them happy.”

Shadow too, gets the familiar itch in his throat, the familiar tightness in his chest. Fear. Panic. Memories resurfacing. A parallel of maria shines through sonic’s selfless attitude.

“…and that someone is you, shadow.”

“Sonic—“

Sonic shoves shadow away with as much force as he could. A wistful smile present on his muzzle, along with a sorrowful glaze in his eyes. Shadow, with a raised voice, stretches out his hand. Hes trying to reach for sonic.

The blue blur has more experience with the chaos emeralds than shadow does. Making this sacrifice should be easy. If it werent for the grief-stricken ebony hedgehog reaching out behind him. For one last send off, sonic and shadow’s eyes meet for the last time.

Its crazy how they thought so lowly of each other when they first met, and nearly tried to kill each other. But the more time they spent, the more did the hedgehogs realize how much the other is truly worth, and how much respect they hold for one another. Its a shame they wont get to spend more time together back on earth.

A damn shame. But humanity needed a fresh sacrifice.

One pair of eyes, plaintive yet noble, another pair of eyes, staggered and fearful, stare at each other, for one millisecond.

Sonic raises his hand, not to reach back out to shadow. But to wave. Wave goodbye.

“Please… keep them happy for me, okay? Promise me. You’ll protect my family.”

Shadow cant hold back his apprehension any longer. Fruitlessly calling out to sonic for him to come back. To not go away. To not throw HIS life away like it had no meaning. Of course, it falls on deaf ears, and two voices say at once:

“Sayonara, Shadow the Hedgehog…”

Followed by a yell of chaos control, a blinding light, a futile chase for a falling body, and no recollection of being sent back onto the ark. To be greeted by an array of faces. All grief-stricken, mournful, sullen, and unreadable.

Shadow, in spite of his own grief and his own recollection of his past trauma. Does his best to comfort sonic’s brothers. He’ll attempt to do the same to his parents back on earth.

A couple months have passed by then, and shadow has learned from his past mistakes. Right now, he wont go down the path of revenge and go guns blazing in the streets again. Right now, he has a promise to keep. A promise to her, and a promise to him. Of course, thered be times where he wonders and hopes that hes doing enough to keep humanity, the people of green hills, and sonic’s family happy. Hes trying his best, and he’ll keep on trying no matter what.

Shadow sometimes fantasizes about a scenario where sonic lived, and the blue blur shows him around green hills. Rambling non-stop with that annoying (yet kind of endearing) voice of his, maintaining that same charm. Cracking jokes shadow cant understand, showing him technology and culture shadow has to learn. It wouldve been… nice to still have him around. It really wouldve been. He wishes it so.

Tails and knuckles are starting to warm up to the ultimate life form, and the wachowski’s appreciate shadow’s efforts in helping humanity. Understanding that he has no intentions of replacing their son, and cherish everything the ebony hedgehog does to honor green hills’ fallen blue devil.

And even shadow knows that the world is filled with cruelty and sorrow. Yet it was the world that maria wanted to live in, and it was the world that sonic chose to fight for and protect. There’s a lot of awful, sad things in the world. But there are still things, people, worth protecting.

There’s a promise.

Shadow will remember it.

Shadow will never forget it.

And that is why…

He will keep fighting.

(If things are messy sorry ill edit it when i get back from canada which is tomorrow lol-)

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ask-the-royal-absol · 8 months

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*The bisharp bodyguards, Roy and Hershel, looked down at their Prime, refusing to budge. They couldn’t let the Prime go without saying what they needed to say.

Destino looked towards the Bisharps, annoyed at their sudden entrance. They noticed that the two had fresh wounds. Hershel with a nasty gash on his face and Roy missing an eye. Seems mother and father had inflicted some form of punishment to the both of them. Destino was quite thankful that they didn’t receive worse wounds. They knew the King and Queen could be quite brutal if they needed to be. Their attention was caught by Hope speaking.

“How are we going to get past them? I could always give them a nice double kick to knock them off their feet.” Hope was ready to fight. She’d knocked them out before, and she could certainly do it again. She was tired of this messing around. She just wanted to be out of here. Destino raised their paw.

Destino sauntered towards the two bisharps. It was going to be easy to convince them to move. Roy and Hershel both looked at each other and Herhsel stepped forward to meet the Prime.

“My Prime, I need you to-“

“Stop and take the prisoner back inside her cell? You know, I don’t think I really want to do that. I quite like doing my own thing and, as your Prime, I shouldn’t have you trying to stop me.”

“No, my Prime, we weren’t going to-“

“Hershel buddy, you don’t have to keep talking. I understand. You’re just doing your job. You’re doing a fine job. Top marks. But, we’re kinda on our way out of here. And you’re blocking the path.”

“My Prime-“

“Shhh, no more.”

Well, that was unexpected. Hershel had never raised his voice at Destino before. It was unheard of for someone of his standing to even consider shouting in that way at royalty. Destino stood in stunned silence for a bit. How dare he raise his voice at them?! Destino wasn’t going to get angry though. Instead, they chose to hear out what he had to say.

“Alright. What’s so important that you have to stop what we’re doing? We’re in a hurry so make it quick.”

A sigh of relief washed over Hershel. Thank goodness the Prime was more tolerant than their parents. He had to make this count. He knelt down, trying his best to meet the Prime’s eye level.

“Thank you my Prime. I shall make this quick as I know that you have a mighty journey ahead of you and the world to save.” He knew? Destino didn’t know how to feel about that. Were there other Pokémon down here that knew they had to save the world? Surely if the Bisharps knew of what they had to do, that would mean their parents did too? So many questions, but not enough time to get to the bottom of it. “My Prime, I have wanted to say this for the longest time. I have not been able to find an opportunity to tell you.” He placed both hands on Destino’s shoulders. Destino had to know. He didn’t know when he was going to see the Absol again so he knew he had to say it now.

“You surprise me everyday. You have many great qualities that will turn you into a fantastic ruler. Your confidence and your charm will prove to be useful tools. But you also have much to work on.” Wow, rude. What on earth would Destino have to work on? They were perfect. Perhaps they shouldn’t have let the Bisharp speak if he was going to insult them like that. “I know you will be able to surpass those negatives and become someone who the Pokémon can look up to. Someone who can inspire others. I see so much potential inside of you. I have enjoyed working alongside you, training you, helping you when I can. I know Roy certainly feels the same.”

Hershel turned his head towards his brother and his brother gave them both a thumbs up and a warm smile. Roy wasn’t much of a speaker. Destino didn’t think they’d ever heard him speak. But he knew his actions spoke louder than any words could. Memories of their time with the two Bisharps flooded their mind. The games of hide and seek they used to play. The training sessions they used to have with the pair. They may not have tried as hard as they could have done but the Bisharps persevered through. The times when Destino would tell them things they would never dream of telling their parents. The support Destino would get from the both of them.

These two Bisharps had been there for Destino their entire life and only just now did they realise how much they relied on the two. How on earth were they going to survive up there without them? They could barely survive down here without their guidance and support. In reality, they couldn’t do anything for themselves. How was they supposed to save the entire world?

Hershel looked straight into Destino’s eyes. He could see they were terrified deep down and hiding it behind their confident facade. Time to give them some words of encouragement. “I know this journey of yours is going to be difficult. I know it is going to be a huge step for you. I have never been up to the surface before but your parents have many times. From what I have been told, it really is not as bad as they have been making it out to be. You will do well up there. I feel you have the skills needed to survive and perhaps even convince the surface dwellers that dark types are not as bad as they fear.”

Hershel then did something that Destino would not have anticipated in a million years. The Bisharp wrapped his arms around them for a hug.

Destino had no words. No witty comebacks. No snide remarks. Instead, they wrapped their arms around Hershel, tightly embracing him.

There was only one thing that Destino could muster up. It came out as a soft whisper.

#pokemon ask blog #pokemon #pokemon askblog #pokemon oc #ask blog #ask the royal absol #destino the absol #chapter 3 #this is probably the best post I’ve ever made #so Destino has different emotions lol

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finn-m-corvex · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 20: Found Family

Day 20! This one was very fun to write, and is a continuation of Day 16 because I can <3 Bruise angst my beloved and I really dug into it in this batch. You guys will see the fruits of that labor in a couple hours.

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @ghostwalloper @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken

Words: 2.3k

“Are we brothers?”

The question caught Cole a bit off-guard, and the training dummy plowed straight into his arm when he stopped paying attention to it. He rubbed at his arm, glancing over to Jay as the other boy stood on the steps with his hands on his hips. Jay looked troubled, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and hands clenching and unclenching. They had been together long enough for Cole to recognize the signs of Jay’s anxiety.

It was a weird question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jay looked down at the ground, “say my parents just called me and I called you my brother, would you be mad at me?”

Cole raised his eyebrows in surprise. He didn’t think that they would’ve been close enough or spent enough time together to call each other brothers. Although, now that he thought about it, they fought at least once a day over the stupidest of things that could be solved in an instant; he would put Jay in a headlock and give him noogies all the time; every time there would be a chore that Wu would give them they would start fighting over it like screeching cats until one of them eventually had to do it, but at the end of the day they would still sit on the couch and play video games until Jay was knocked out with his head on Cole’s shoulder and the earth ninja would have to carry him to bed.

He never had a brother, and he knew Jay didn’t have one either. So how could either of them know what brothers were supposed to be?

“No,” he said honestly, “I wouldn’t be mad. Why?”

“I, uh, may have just done that.”

Figures. Jay wouldn’t have been asking him otherwise. “Do you think we’re brothers?”

Jay rocked on his heels. “I mean, I don’t have any. But I think that if I did have a brother, I would want it to be you.” He looked panicked for a second, probably worried about Cole’s reaction. “Is that weird? Oh that’s probably really weird I’m sorry-”

“Woah!” Cole said, stepping forward and taking his friend (brother) by the shoulders. “Hey, now. Calm down, Jay, I already said that I wasn’t mad. I-I’m really flattered actually.”

“Really?”

“Really. And hey, I’m happy to call you my brother any day of the week.”

Cole cringed in his waiting room chair as the memory finished playing in his head, the plastic seat hard and uncomfortable. It wasn’t the first time he had been here, and it wouldn’t be the last, but you would think that after all the trips they’ve had to make to the emergency room they would’ve started to bring seat cushions for the long waits in-between. However, it was the first time that he had been alone in the waiting room since he was a small child and his mom was sick. He couldn’t say that it brought back good memories to be back here.

His mind kept flashing back to just a few minutes ago, watching as his brother convulsed on the gurney in terror, fighting against the nurses trying to hold him down. Cole was angry, insisting to the nurse that he needed to get to Jay, and eventually he stormed past her despite her saying that only family was allowed behind the scenes.

Jay was his brother; it didn’t matter whether there was a stupid piece of paper to prove it or not.

His little brother had been so scared, terrified of the strangers’ voices connected to faces that he couldn’t see with their hands all over him, but especially the oxygen mask that they had strapped to his face. Cole pushed down the anger that threatened to bubble over, choosing instead to focus on getting his brother to calm down so they could treat his stab wound.

Kissing his forehead well after Jay had gone back to sleep, Cole watched as his brother was wheeled back to somewhere that he couldn’t follow just quite yet, trying to channel the natural patience that came with his element.

“Excuse me?” a nurse called from the door, and Cole picked his head up to look at her. “Are you here for Jay Walker?”

“Yes, I am.” Cole said, getting up from his chair and feeling his back pop as he did so.

“Are you family—”

“He is my brother,” Cole said shortly; part of him felt bad, but the other part didn’t care, “and if you try and keep me from going to see him just because it’s not on record, I will have to ask you to step aside.”

The nurse looked terrified. “O-Of course, you may go see him now. He’s in the third room on the right.”

Cole thanked her, and she stepped aside to let him pass through the door. Walking down the hallway brought back memories from years ago, and Cole could feel himself continuing to shut down with every step he took, and this wasn’t even the hospital where she passed. He couldn’t imagine how strong the memories would be if he ever went back; all it had taken was one trip and a meltdown before the team unanimously agreed to never visit unless they absolutely had to, and if they did then Cole would stay home.

But what happened to his mom wasn’t going to happen to Jay.

The door opened easily, making no sound as he stepped into the room, and Cole sucked in a breath when he saw his brother lying on the bed.

Jay was pale, making his auburn hair stand out against the stark white of the pillow. There was a cannula on his face instead of a full mask, and Cole was grateful that there wouldn’t be another meltdown. Beeping unsteadily, the heart monitor stood alone in the corner, opposite of the IV line hooked into Jay’s arm. The room was as blank as any other room that they had ever been in, and Cole was grateful for the bare walls. Her room hadn’t been barren because of how much time they spent in it.

Standing next to the bed, Cole brought the room’s one chair with him, its legs scraping against the floor with a sound that made him cringe. Making sure that Jay stayed asleep, Cole sat, taking his brother’s hand in his own and starting to play with the blue ninja’s fingers.

“Would it kill you to go on one mission without giving me a heart attack?” Cole asked, getting no answer other than a soft wheeze. The others were still chasing down the bad guys, Cole having been designated as the one to take Jay to the hospital after taking the knife to the gut.

It was almost too common at this point. Jay never used to act so recklessly, throwing himself in front of every possible danger as if he couldn’t die. Recently, there were too many missions ending with someone taking him to the hospital, or bringing him to the medical bay on the Bounty to get treatment well into the wee hours of the night. He knew that the others were starting to notice, trying to intervene before Jay could throw himself to the wolves so he would stay safe.

He and Nya had spent too many lengthy conversations about it. Cole knew something was wrong, but he didn’t even know where to start pushing to find out what it was.

Groaning, Jay cracked open his eyes. “Cole?”

“Yeah, bud,” Cole answered, standing back up and making sure that Jay could see him.

Jay squinted, his freckles standing out against his pale skin. “What happened?”

“You got stabbed. I took you to the hospital and you’ve got to stay here for the next couple days to make sure your stitches and whatnot don’t get infected.”

“Oh,” Jay closed his eyes, leaning into Cole’s hand when it cupped his cheek, “where are the others?”

Cole bit his lip, and he really hoped that the rest of the team wouldn’t make a liar out of him. “They’re on the way, they should be here soon. Do you need anything?”

Licking his lips, Jay brought his hand up to his face, and Cole saw how he relaxed when he shot a small bolt of lightning between his fingers. Did he really think that Cole would’ve let the hospital staff put the vengestone back on? “Is there any water?”

There was a small pitcher and some cups on the other table. “Yeah, I’ll get you some.”

Picking it up was a bit of a hassle with his new hands; he kept forgetting that it really hadn’t been that long since he was revived. You would think that would be something you would remember, but it was just another day in Ninjago when Cole was concerned. Filling the cup to about halfway, Cole brought it back to Jay, helping him to hold it when the blue ninja’s hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Actually, Jay couldn’t stop shaking. “Are you cold? Do you need another blanket?”

“It’s probably the blood loss,” Jay said, and he wasn’t entirely wrong, “don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“Jay, you’re my brother. If you need a blanket then I can get you a blanket—”

“I said I’m fine, Cole,” Jay said quickly, and Cole was surprised to hear his brother’s voice crack mid-sentence. “Stop worrying about it, please.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cole helped his brother sit up enough to bury his face into Cole’s shoulder, resting a hand on the blue ninja’s back while Jay’s fist latched onto his uniform. Kissing the top of his head, Cole sighed, remembering that Jay was probably a little loopy from the pain meds and that he would need to be gentle. “Bluebell, it’s fine. I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t want to do it. What’s got you so worked up?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He sniffled, and Cole could feel tears start to soak into his gi. “For getting hurt and making you take me to the hospital and I know I’ve had to go here a lot recently and I know it’s probably super expensive but I can get a second job if I need to since it’s not fair that it has to come out of everyone’s paychecks—”

And Jay kept rambling, words flying so fast that Cole could only catch every fifth word, but he didn’t interrupt his brother. Clearly, Jay had been bottling this up for a long time, and Cole knew that if he wanted to get a rational explanation from Jay then he would have to listen to the panicked word vomit version first. It was just how Jay worked.

Rubbing his back, Cole stayed quiet and nodded when he was supposed to and hummed whenever Jay “wanted” a response. It took almost ten minutes for Jay’s words to finally run out, and he slumped against the black ninja, exhausted. Cole kissed the back of his head, tucking Jay closer to his chest and laying his chin on Jay’s crown. “Thank you,” Jay said softly, shivering.

“You’re welcome,” Cole said, “now I’m going to get you that blanket, and you’re going to repeat everything you just told me but at a quarter of the speed. Or you’re going to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Helping Jay to lay back down against the pillows, Cole ruffled his hair and gave him a small smile before leaving the room to try and find a nurse. There was one right outside of their room who looked friendly enough. He could’ve just used the call button, but he knew Jay, and he knew that the younger male would appreciate a couple minutes to himself after having a breakdown.

“Excuse me?” Cole said, and the nurse turned around. “Are there any of the warmed blankets left?”

She led him to the heater and grabbed one, folding it up neatly and handing it over. Thanking her, Cole made his way back to Jay’s hospital room, but not before pulling his phone out and dialing Nya’s number to update them on the situation.

“Hello? Cole?”

Shifting the blanket in his hands, Cole smushed the phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “Hey Nya. Are you guys on your way?”

“Yeah, we’re in the car right now. We had to make a quick pitstop to patch Kai up but we should be there soon. How’s Jay?”

“Fine,” Cole sighed, “you might have a little trouble getting back here. They wouldn’t let me go through until Jay started having a meltdown.”

“What? Why was he having a meltdown?”

He reached Jay’s hospital room, so Cole lowered his voice. “They put an oxygen mask on him and then slapped on some vengestone. He started panicking pretty bad but I got him to calm down. No one got hurt.” Too badly, anyway.

Nya growled on the other end. “I don’t care if they were hurt or not, I’ll maim them myself.”

“There’s no need for that,” Cole said, “you guys are gonna have enough trouble getting to his room since they’re only letting family in. Don’t cause any more.”

“I’ll cause as much as I want to,” Nya paused, and Cole knew that she was thinking, “but fine. We’ll be there shortly.”

She hung up, and Cole stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Opening the door to Jay’s room, Cole noticed that the blue ninja had found the remote and turned on the tv to some cartoon channel, and now the blue ninja was fixated on watching the goofy events unfold on screen.

“Jay?” Cole asked, not wanting to startle him. Jay shushed him, still watching, and Cole chuckled at the rare focused expression on his brother’s face.

Silently, Cole made his way to the bed and climbed into it next to Jay, spreading the still-warm blanket out over the both of them. Jay leaned into his big brother’s side, yawning, and Cole wrapped an arm around Jay’s waist while being careful of his stitches.

If Jay wanted to watch cartoons for the rest of the day, then Cole could wait for their conversation.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #finn's writing #ninjago cole #whumptober day 20 #whumptober 2023

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