#no one will ever fight for my son as hard as queue

[coquettetoji]

{⭐️} TOJI FUSHIGURO MOODBOARD

★ general toji hcs ★

— QUEUE WEST COAST BY LANA DEL REY

— let’s just pretend in this world he doesn’t have a son to actually care for yk.

— biggest beefiest juiciest (ok i’m exaggerating) but holy shit this guy is huge. i’m talking mma boxer huge, he takes great pride in his physic. and is guilty of being a gym rat.

— cockiest mf ever but in a hot way, he does that cheek tongue thing unintentionally and omlllllll

— toji definitely wasn’t the smartest in school, neither math smart, science smart or reading smart. he fucked most of his teachers but i mean he passed?

— although he wasn’t very academically smart, his skill in business and negotiating led to him earning a high position for a large financial group. drugs like hand over that amex????

— drives a motorcycle, i’m thinking ducati, as a hobby. 😏😏

— smokes cigarettes and drinks, his fav is hennessy, but other than that he’s a clean man

— was an emo in highschool, we don’t talk about that though. and neither does he.

— multitudes of tattoos across his body, mainly on his chest and arms though.

— his dream job as a highschooler was to open a tattoo parlor. he was surprisingly a good artist when it came to sketches.

— silver chains and silver jewelry, he’s pale so his complexion matches the colors better.

— sarcastic humor that would make kids cry. this guy treats everyone the same as if they’ll understand his humor and that makes him not so great around kids

— has a soft spot for cats, really wants to have a kitten but won’t ever commit to it/taking care of it

— has every single dating app downloaded not to date but just to get validation from everyone who swiped right on him. (gets at minimum 83 swipes per day)

— speaking of, his most used apps on his phone are phone (calls), messages, and instagram to watch his instagram reels 😋

— respectful towards women. although he seems like a d bag he does know how to treat a lady right

— drives a blacked out mercedes benz s class, ofc with tinted windows in case of.. yeah

— the scar running from the middle of his cheek down the side of his lip is from a fight during high school that got violent, he won though don’t worry

— grey/silver/green eyes, with jet black hair. he was genuinely gifted with godly genetics

— when he does smile, his lip corners turn up sharply giving him that joker smile type of look, my legs are wide open

— the most laid back chill guy ever, he doesn’t take life seriously enough for him to actually give a fuck

—6’4. argue with the wall.

— his hands are huge and the veins 😩😩😫😩😫 HEHEHE

— wears black compression shirts or black t shirts with sweat pants all day everyday, it’s his signature look

— he smells a bit like cigarettes and Maison Margiela Replica Jazz Club, just an overall eye rolling back into head type of scent

— makes dad jokes all the time minus the part of him being an actual dad

— played basketball growing up just in his neighborhood, was good enough to go pro but his grades were ass lol

— he listens to these actual underground rock bands that literally no one has heard of or the sports podcast on the radio like a true dad

— kinda behind on everything going on in the world right now, but it’s okay bc we love toji for it regardless

💌 new message from mica ‧₊˚✧

my favorite incoming dilf with a midlife crisis 😫

honestly one of my fav boards yet, i tried so hard to find the perfect resemblance of toji and omg the scar too kinda works perfectly

#toji fushiguro #toji fluff #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji x you #dilf toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk x reader #jjk fanart #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen au #toji zenin #toji x y/n #jujutsu toji #i want him so bad

[cordyce]

(we are written) in the sand and in the stars

Neteyam x Reader

Fic Summary: Sullys stick together. That is something you have heard since the beginning. But when you are forced to uproot and leave your home, it is something you must learn to fully take to heart. You are not technically a Sully, but you fight like one. And that in turn is enough to be shielded like one as well. There is no choice but to openly accept that this family, these Na’vi, are your fortress. It is perhaps harder, though, to accept that Neteyam has seemingly appointed himself as your personal guard.

༄ CHAPTER FOUR: SEA SALT IN OLD WOUNDS

Chapter Summary: Tensions are making themselves known among your family. Between Lo’ak hitting a streak of defiance, Neteyam shifting your world on it’s axis, and Eywa bringing old memories to light—you find yourself grappling for a bit of stability. But will it ever come?

Author’s Note: pls ignore the ugly ass dividers in the middle of the chapter tumblr has an image limit and i’m aware it looks like shit </3 also neteyam may be slightly ooc in this chapter. just squint ur eyes and pretend he isn’t for the sake of my sanity.

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Sick does not even come close to describing the feeling that floods your body as you listen to Ao’nung explain what he and his friends have done. It seeps into your bones; wraps around your spine like a vice that jerks you up off your knees in a split second.

But Neteyam is jolting up even faster. 

Normally, he’s the most level-headed person within a thirty mile radius at all times. Normally, he is good at soaking in information and chewing on it until the solution is soft on the bed of his tongue. Normally, he chooses rationale over impulsivity.

Normally, you wouldn’t see him do such a thing as reach to the base of Ao’nung’s neck to grip onto the braid encasing his neural queue and order him in venomous tone to “ walk ”, but a divergence from normalcy is well acceptable now, you think. 

The sickness doesn’t subside as you trail right behind Neteyam, doing your best to keep your thoughts to yourself as he leads Ao’nung to your family’s home like a mindless dog who’s just been caught chewing up the rug. You can’t read the look on either of their faces, can’t really decipher what is going through either of their minds. Which wouldn’t really bother you in the case of Ao’nung, alone. But it leaves you unsettled when it comes to Neteyam, who you have always been so good at reading; has you feeling like you’ve suddenly gone illiterate in a language you’ve been speaking your whole life. It frustrates you, pushes you even closer to the ledge. 

The sickness doesn’t subside, no, but with each step closer to your home that you take, it gains a new confrère. 

Anger begins to simmer the unease in your bones. It gnaws at the frayed hems of your mind as you recall Ao’nung’s confession over and over again, run it through your head repetitively in a frail attempt at finding reason in it. You knew he was not fond of your family, had a clear disdain for your presence in his home, but this?

Does he really hold such a hatred in his heart that he would abandon your brother in a place he did not know with no real way to defend himself? No route back? No promise of safety?

You’d like to push Neteyam’s hand to the side and do the leading yourself. Maybe it’s ill intent to want to twist Ao’nung’s braid so hard it has him seeing Eywa firsthand, but you couldn't care less. Not now. He has done nothing but terrorize your family since your arrival, what would be the harm in a little retaliation such as that?

After what feels like a walk far too long, you finally reach your family’s hut. Jake’s head snaps up as soon as he sees the three of you walk in, and his eyes are on high alert when he takes notice of Neteyam’s hand securing the chief’s son in such a way. His expression portrays that there better be good reason for his son to be manhandling him as he is; you think the reason is well past good. 

“Tell him what you told me,” Neteyam orders, brisk and demanding. He doesn’t let go of Ao’nung, not yet, and you wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want to risk him running off with his tail between his legs.

Because if Neteyam was looking at you like that, that is most certainly what you’d be doing.

You do your best to quell yourself as you listen to Ao’nung recite the same story, near verbatim, that he told you and Neteyam to your father. It’s no easier to hear the second time, and with every minute that passes you can only think about Lo’ak. Alone, cold, scared for his life; praying to the great mother that he is still alive.  

Your ears flutter; a threat to press back against your skull. Fear is so familiar to you that you nearly welcome it like you would an old friend. But this time it is different, like an acquaintance who you do your best to avoid in crowds. It’s different because it is not for you alone, not for your own peace of mind or with your own life on the line. It enrages you, scalds you–burns at you as you yearn for the safety of one you hold dear. 

This fear has you bubbling over, rattling the lid off of the pot you use to vigorously contain all the ugly, unrefined pieces of you. Like stew left unattended on the stove. 

Once Ao’nung is through, Jake doesn’t say a word. He simply stands up and reaches for a flashlight from his bag (which has you hiding the one Neteyam snatched earlier behind your back, as a second thought) along with his sheath, then turns to walk out. It’s only now that Neteyam releases his grip on Ao’nung, gives him one final steely glare before he goes to follow his father. Your body pivots to do the same, but you falter. 

In any other situation, at any other time, you might have been able to bite your tongue. If this had been directed at you, if it was you lost out at sea–even despite your irrational grievances–you think you might have found it within yourself to just brush past it. Forced yourself into the practiced philosophy of out of sight, out of mind, for the greater good of your father’s ataraxis. 

But you were not the target of this, your brother was. And if Jake wants to preach your family’s maxim so much, then maybe you can be so inclined to partake in a bit of malicious compliance in its stead. 

You deem now is the perfect time to do so.

“If they bring him back dead,” you address, turn your head to make direct eye contact with Ao’nung. You want him to know you mean it, that it is direct and equitable. “I will kill you myself. That is pänu.” [ “A promise.” ]

His expression cracks, the mask he’s plastered on slips, in just the slightest way that is noticeable. And you see it, the twinge of emotion that incites a tremor in his cheek, stings at his eyes. He gulps the smallest of lumps down his throat, and you know. He’s scared–for something, anything, you aren’t sure and you don’t care. You just want him to feel a fraction of what you’re feeling in this very moment, just a smidgen of something other than thinly veiled neutrality. 

You take in his reaction and you heed to it before you finally focus your attention back on following the trail your father and Neteyam had taken. Finding where they went is easy; all you have to do is follow the shouts coming from the shoreline, the glow of torches and lanterns burning brighter with each pad of your feet against the netting. A crowd is already formed, people standing on and around the docks speaking among themselves. You catch a glimpse of Neteyam through a break in the sea of people, his sapphire skin sparkling against a backdrop of teal, and you begin pushing your way through.

Just as you reach him, your father and a few Metkayina men are already taking off into the water. They are the search party, you deduce, based on the murmurs of those around you. You try to drown them out, pretend you don’t hear how some of them are already putting the blame onto your brother; as if they even have a clue.

Your fingers brush against Neteyam’s wrist–out of instinct, yen, you aren’t sure it matters–but at the slightest bit of contact he’s already grappling for it. Blindly, before he’s even turned his head. Like he can tell by just the ridges of your fingertips that it is you. His hand molds around yours, the warmth of his palm embedding itself to the lines crafted in your own. And now, only now, does he look to you.

“They are going to the Three Brothers Islands to find him,” Neteyam tells you, and his voice comes out just as level as it always does. Just as composed. “They should all be back soon.”

Any other person would miss it, any other person wouldn’t pick up on such a thing. But you are not them. Neteyam has seemed to have put so much effort into concealing his emotions earlier that he’s caused a misstep, a flux. His voice is level, yes. And his eyes are steadfast, sure. His tone rings true to the promise that he believes his brother will return safe and sound, but –stray doubt has slithered in and soiled the pristine veils of that covenant. 

Yes, any other person would miss it, but you pick up on the slightest quiver in the tip of his tail as it brushes against you. You take note of how his left ear twitches once, twice, three times; a nervous tell he’s had since you were merely children. You lock your gaze on the fang that hooks the edge of his lip, biting down, just barely. You detect it all, and you feel the vex.

He does his best to look strong and put on an unbothered show as the rest of your family runs up, asks what’s going on– Where is Lo’ak? What is happening? –and what the meaning of this is. You simply allow him to do so, let him step into his role as the pillar of the family oh so seamlessly, just like always. Squeezing the hand he has failed to retract as a comfort, a response to the plight, you shudder out a breath.

And the waiting game begins. 

It takes forever–at least, it feels like it does. The time spent waiting for the return of the convoy feels perilous, daunting. Excruciating, in a longing sense. Neytiri spends the time pacing, cursing below her breath at the situation, her son, the distinction isn’t clear. Neteyam is not far off, he gets a lot of his mannerisms from his mother. He nearly drives you crazy with each pass he does beside you, but you find distraction in taking care of Tuk with Kiri. She has always been so empathetic with others, with Lo’ak especially, and her whines for when he will return have you silencing your own anxieties until you finally convince her to just go to bed. 

After some time, though, you hear it. The shouts in the distance as they come within sight. The horns they blow as the search party comes back into view. The sigh that wracks out of you is near violent as you see your brother’s silhouette seated behind one of the Metkayina men. 

You rush to the ledge just as Lo’ak is stepping onto it and you can see it in his eyes. There’s fire behind them, raging, and it’s aimed directly at Ao’nung. But before he gets even more than a step in, Jake is stopping him, holding him in place. Safety precautions, you assume, an attempt to keep things from escalating. 

You for one think that Lo’ak deserves to throw at least one cheap shot at him, maybe even waterboard him for a few minutes. An eye for an eye sort of thing. 

“Let’s have a look at you,” your father says, does a walk around of Lo’ak to look for any real injuries. He won’t find any, you can tell, and you know he knows that too. “He’s fine, he’s fine. Just a few scratches.”

Neytiri brushes past you, now. Jumps down to the lower dock and grabs her son to run her eyes over him herself. But the relief painting her features is fleeting, and you bite the inside of your cheek at the shift in her gaze seconds later. 

“I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son,” she hisses as she claws her hand in front of his face. Lo’ak looks unbothered, unperturbed–would probably be embarrassed at such a sentence in any other circumstance, knowing him. 

“No,” Tonowari speaks up to your left, and your gaze snaps to him. His rebuttal is not something you were expecting, not something you had anticipated. “My son knows better than to take him outside the reef.” And as if his speaking up didn’t catch you off guard enough, he places his hand on Ao’nung’s shoulder and makes him lower into a kneel. “The blame is his.”

Everyone is tense, high strung; not wanting to do anything to tip this boat in either direction and send all of you plunging into an unforgiving sea. You understand that’s the consensus of their thoughts, truly, but the only abstraction playing in your mind is that you think you like Ao’nung better when he’s forced to be on his knees and silent.

“Okay,” Jake mutters out in a breath, grabs at Lo’ak’s arm to pull him along. “Let’s go.”

But it appears that Lo’ak holds a grudge against anything being as easy as this, so true to his fashion he yanks his arm out of his father’s grasp.

“No,” he shakes his head, and you have half a mind to shake him senseless. You wonder what the hell he’s thinking, why he’s doing this. “This is not Ao’nung’s fault. This was my idea, Ao’nung tried to talk me out of it. Really.”

Your father simply regains his grip on his youngest son, Neytiri shoving him along as well as he spews out a quiet apology. Lo’ak’s eyes meet Ao’nung’s just as he’s being drug past him, and you realize in that moment, it was more than just trying to please those he feels the pressure to impress.

Jake shares a hushed understanding with Tonowari as he passes him, tells him he’ll handle this. You hear the chief and his mate begin chastising their son as you fall into line to follow your family further and further away from the dock. 

You’re just out of earshot of the locals when Lo’ak turns to look at his father, already pleading his case. “Dad, you told me to make friends with these kids. That’s all I was trying–”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Jake cuts him off, tone dripping in disappointment, indignation. He fixes Lo’ak with a stern look. “You brought shame to this family.”

The statement causes a pause, a delay. It was not even directed at you and it has your stomach tightening into knots, nausea blooming in the pits of it. To say such a thing to him when it wasn’t even him who did anything wrong feels malevolent; it doesn’t strike you as fair. 

In fact, nothing seems all that fair lately. 

“Can I go now?” Lo’ak speaks up after the beat of silence.

Jake sighs, haughty. “Any more trouble, I jerk a knot in your tail. You read me?”

“Yes sir,” your brother responds immediately. “Lima Charlie.”

Your father nods his head with a grunt, and Lo’ak wastes no time in turning on his heel and stalking off. Part of you wants to run after him–you still aren’t fully settled from this incident after all, and you’d really like to give your brother a hug and let him know you’re glad he’s alright–but Neytiri is whipping around to face the three of you that remain as soon as Lo’ak is gone. 

“Where were you?” She asks, directed entirely to Neteyam.

“Yeah,” Jake chimes in, and that same tone he was using on Lo’ak is plaguing his voice now. It’s watered down, of course, but even diluted you know that it still tastes like straight poison to swallow. “What happened to keep an eye on your brother?”

Neteyam, not missing a single beat, dips his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

So inculcated with obedience, so willing to drop it all just to fall into line. You’ve always seen it, acknowledged it, but now it shines in a new light for you. Neteyam never strays, never complains, never voices against anything when it comes from a station of command. He’s deemed himself a soldier, a leader, his siblings’ keeper; a patron to service everyone else and admonish himself.

And you just don’t take too well to that right now.

“It’s actually my fault, sir,” you step in, do your best to ignore the heat of the gazes that switch from him to you. “I’m the reason Lo’ak wasn’t looked after.”

There’s a sharp inhale behind you, and out of your peripheral you see Neteyam’s head snap back up. You aren’t sure to which parent you should be looking, so you keep your eyes fixed forward, and wait.

“What were you doing?” Jake questions, and it all feels so unfamiliar. You are not immune to discipline from either of them, it has been administered to you many times over the years, but something about this moment feels heavier. 

Your body tenses up in a weak attempt to control the flinch that it so desperately wants to convey as Neytiri steps into your line of sight. Saying you are scared of the only mother figure you have ever known is not something you’d be open to readily admit, but if you were ever asked if she made you a bit wary when she was angry, you think you’d have to agree to that statement. 

“ Why? ” It’s all she presses, a ghost of a hiss trailing on the end as if to dot the curve of punctuation.

“I was struggling with some things that Tsireya has been teaching us,” is what you settle on saying, and it isn’t particularly a lie, but deep down you still feel the slightest bit culpable for it. “I asked Neteyam for help even though I knew he was busy. I shouldn’t have distracted him, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no place for distractions, ” Neytiri bites, snaps her teeth. This time you do flinch. Not because you’re afraid her actions might harm you, but because her words do. Like the implication that you are a distraction is something she expected; a burden easy to predict. “Do not let this happen again.”

“I won’t,” you whisper, try to focus on the flame of a nearby torch to will the burning behind your eyes to stop. “ I won’t. ”

Nothing else is said before Neytiri turns on her heel to walk away, Jake trailing close behind. A hand brushes against your arm; Kiri offers you a sympathetic, odd tilt of a smile as she steps away too. Which only leaves you and Neteyam, and you can already tell you aren’t going to like what he has to say about all of this, so you do what any person wanting to avoid confrontation would.

You clear your throat and go off in the complete opposite direction. 

“Hey,” he calls after you the very next second, already scrambling to match your fast pace. “Hey, wait!”

But you ignore him, pretend you don’t hear him. Because why should you stick around and listen to what he has to say if you are already well aware of the very words that are going to be leaving his mouth? You think it benign; that he should save his breath. You keep walking, and to your chagrin, Neteyam keeps following. 

“ Agh, Ma (Y/n).” And you know that timbre, know it only wavers as such when he has grown frustrated. Something inside you takes a little pride in that, and in turn you think you need to be checked in the head because of it.

The sand under your feet grows more and more moist, colder on the soles as you keep padding off. You had no intentional path when you started walking–just the goal of getting away from Neteyam–but with a few more strides it seems that you find yourself in the very same spot you and him had been earlier. Perhaps just by tendency, it being one of the only places you are semi-familiar with, or maybe something else. Regardless of which, you do not let it blindside you as you are still on a mission.

“Why are you so stubborn?” Neteyam groans, pinched and drawn out. A smile nearly tempts your lips at that, a laugh just about rolls off your tongue. That is, until you feel it. 

The tug on your tail is swift; has you jutting to a stop in your tracks instantly. It is not playful, or fun spirited–which leaves an odd taste in your mouth. Sand tunnels up in the skid marks your feet leave and you whip around to yank your own tail out of Neteyam’s calloused grasp. Your mouth is propped open, gaping. You wouldn’t be able to conceal your disbelief if you tried because did he really just do that?

“I am not a child,” you reprimand, holding your tail close to you like you’re scared he might try to grab at it again. Then again, there is the chance that he might. “You do not drag me back by my tail like one.”

You expect him to bubble out an apology forthright, but instead he closes the gap between the two of you with a pointed gaze. 

“I am not a child either.” He mirrors your tone, like an echo in a lower octave. “I do not need you to take blame for me.”

A standstill, an impasse. You and Neteyam stare at each other for a few baited moments. His leer is heavy, disparate. Whatever is swirling behind those honeyed irises has you transfixed, but it doesn’t mean you are willing to back down. It’s like you’re backpedaling on a conversation you’ve just had, but then again you suppose you are, aren’t you? 

“You shouldn’t be given blame yourself,” you tell him, unequivocally. Because it is what you believe, what you harbor in your heart. And Neteyam seems to always pull anything he wishes out of your heart. “I know you think you have to be responsible for everyone, but you don’t.”

“That is rich, coming from you.”

That takes you back a moment, has the gears inside your head stuttering in their tread. He’s thrown your own words back in your face twice now, like a rag that’s already been used and soiled. It’s as if he’s dead set on hammering you out, knocking you straight no matter how many blows it takes.

It unnerves you.

“I am the oldest.” A statement, a fact; you say it because you know that one cannot argue with the flat truth. “That is my job.”

It has always been your job. 

“Then you should understand–”

“No, I don’t understand, Neteyam,” you interject, brows furrowing up at him. “You are their older brother, I understand that. You want to stand up for those you care about, I understand that, too. But there is a difference between taking their side and taking their blame. And you don’t seem to get that. ”

“If you are so against such a thing, then why did you do it just now?” He asks, brisk and unfiltered in a way he rarely gets. There’s a cinch between his brows, a dip in the lines of his lips. It isn’t angry, or mean–it’s simply achingly curious. “Why take my blame when you are not the one at fault?”

“Maybe I am just tired of seeing you get in trouble for things you don’t do.”

It comes out quieter than you intended it to, like all the fight seeps out of you with each word that tumbles from your lips. A decrescendo of what was once a building dispute; a come apart. Your eyes flit away from Neteyam’s, your hands ring around your tail that you’ve failed to drop thus far. 

“It just seems like you’re carrying everyone else’s problems around with you constantly. Protecting them nìftxavang,” [ “with all your heart” ] you shrug sheepishly, tip your head as you force yourself to meet his gaze once again. “If I am able to take just a portion of the weight off your shoulders, then all I ask is that you let me.”

He’s quiet, reticent. Each passing beat of locked eyes has you feeling more and more foolish. Perhaps you have crossed a line, said something you should not have. Maybe, this went over the boundaries of whatever the two of you were now, ventured into unmarked territory that you do not have permission to claim just yet.

You’re still so unsure of what this is, at all. 

Neteyam’s eyes cut away from you, dip down to some spot towards your feet. He reaches a hand up to fiddle with the necklace hanging from his neck; the one you made for him just a few hours ago. His thumb presses to the shell on it, his teeth pull his lips in. Then, he nods.

“Only the light weight,” he cracks, lifting his head just enough to look at you through the braids that seem to always have a way of falling into his face. “You are not built to carry anything ku’up.” [ “Heavy.” ]

You shove at his chest as the smile finally carves into his cheeks, roll your eyes at him and grumble under your breath. “I’m stronger than you, you skxawng.”

“Ah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” he chuckles, grabs your hands to pull you with him as he stumbles a few steps back from your faux assault. 

But he drops one, lets the grin lessen a little as he reaches behind you. It’s hard not to jerk when you feel his fingers brush against your tail again (considering it has been pulled on more than twice today already, neither instance with your permission), and yet you control it because this time it’s gentle, loose. His grip is hollow as he skims his fingertips along your tail. A shudder runs through you as he gets to the end of it, in the very same place where he had grabbed onto earlier. Heat pools into your cheeks as he brushes against it with his thumb–tender, demure. 

“I’m sorry. For pulling on your tail. That was.. rude.” It’s devout, vehement. His touch conveys every word he utters in a tenfold manner. It’s nearly overwhelming. “Ngaytxoa, Ma (Y/n)?” [ “Forgive me?” ]

Part of you wants to say no out of spite, make him squirm or tug his tail in retaliation, but the way he’s looking at you now has you tongue tied. As priorly stated, you harbor the ability to read Neteyam like an open book in your native tongue, and more often than not that is a skill you find joy in.

Now, though, you think you’d prefer to be struck dumb, because his gaze is dripping in such potent lovelorn infatuation that the side effects of that apparently include a fluttering in your gut that teeters on frenzied. 

You can’t seem to get any words out so you nod, bite the edge of your lip as you glance down to where Neteyam has taken to playing with the frays of your tail. You wonder if he even realizes what he’s doing, if he knows how all of this is affecting you; or if his gestures just ring true to his presumed inexperience.

You suppose that’s something the two of you have in common when it all comes down to this: inexperience.

A breathy sort of chortle thumps out of him at your mute response. He’s so close you swear you can almost feel the vibrations of it. The question crosses your mind whether it would be odd to request to place your hand over his heart, like you did when he was helping you before. You just want to feel it, become more acquainted with the rhythmic thump. Your mouth parts to ask, but.

“What are you guys doing?” Kiri’s voice carries from a few yards away, startling you into a step back. The action causes Neteyam to lose grip of your tail, the contact and closeness between the two of you waved away like a tepid vapor. 

“Nothing,” you reply straight away, because you think doing so might make you feel a little less awkward about this in the long run. (However after the words leave your mouth, you’re pretty sure they’ve caused the opposite effect). “We were just..”

“Talking over training for tomorrow,” Neteyam chimes in when he sees you struggling, finishing your sentence off like it’s the easiest thing in the world. A culpable air of confidence about him to get away with such things, you think. “We were just setting aside times to fit it all in.”

“Right,” your sister drawls, studying the pair of you for a moment before she continues. “Well, there’s only a few hours of night left. Dad sent me to come find you so that you would get some sleep.”

“Okay. Coming.” And you curse yourself for the hitch in your deliverance as you say it. But it seems she doesn’t catch it, or doesn’t care enough to react, because she’s already turning around to walk back the way she came.

You’re taking steps to follow her without hesitation, fully expecting Neteyam to just fall in line and do the same. However, instead of matching your steps when he skirts his way into your peripheral vision, he’s brushing past you. It’s peculiar, for him to do such a thing. But as you eye him in his parting you notice how his ears are pressed abnormally flat to his skull and you have to fight the urge to giggle. 

Apparently even the strapping former heir gets embarrassed. 

“I’m not blind, you know,” Kiri states after Neteyam has disappeared far enough ahead and you catch up to her languid pace. 

The tips of your ears feel like they’re being lit by a match and you curse yourself for what feels like the near instant karma of internally making fun of Neteyam just a second earlier. 

“I never said you were.”

“Hm.” She hums, sends you a side eye glance. “I see my brother has a new necklace. And since you and I both know how absolutely atrocious his beading skills are, I know he didn’t make it.”

“You noticed?” You don’t understand why you’re so shy now. It’s not like you haven’t made your fair share of jewelry for others in the past. Hell, you’ve made Kiri countless pieces since you first learned how to. 

“Of course I did,” she rolls her eyes. Blunt, curt, the pair of you have always been that way with one another. So you can easily tell she’s getting annoyed with you beating around the bush now. “But I will say that you should’ve made him give you the first courting gift. Would’ve been funny to see him on pins and needles when giving it to you.”

That nearly has you tripping over your own feet, your eyes shooting as wide as saucers. You sputter over her words, tumble through a poor attempt at correction. 

“That wasn’t–The necklace isn’t a courting gift,” you defend, desperation littering itself in your pledge. 

Kiri merely turns to you, pauses in her steps for just a moment, and gives you a look so knowing that it has you questioning everything you thought you were certain of. 

“Isn’t it, though?”

Before you even have the chance to ramble off anything else, she’s continuing into the string of maruis, like she’s well aware you cannot talk past this point for the risk of awakening those sleeping in their homes. You feel choked up, leg locked like you’ve been caught in a slip of netting. Convincing yourself is trivial, pointless, but you try to do so anyway. 

You made the necklace as a thank you, a symbol of gratitude; an offering. It was innocent in nature and two dimensional in creation. There was no chance that this simple necklace could be seen as something as pivotal as a courting gift. Could be interpreted as anything that holds so much weight. 

At least that’s what you keep repeating to yourself, as you do your best not to have another restless night sleeping on a mat that’s laid next to the very man who has single handedly redefined the meaning of family for you. 

———————————————————————————

The next day, eagerness is buzzing in everyone’s chests.

You aren’t sure you’ve ever seen Kiri wake up so early without having to literally be dragged out of bed by the ankles. And it’s even more a surprise to you when Tuk doesn’t whine and cry at being disturbed from her slumber hours before she normally would. Then again, it feels near impossible not to be keyed up–jittery–because there is something you’re all dying to know.

Sitting in a circle on a group of rocks just as the sunrise is peeking over the horizon, each of you listen intently as Lo’ak recalls what happened last night–even Ao’nung has joined you, and you hate to admit it but he’s acting slightly less insufferable than usual as he pays mind to your brother’s story. You’re seated between him and Neteyam, trying to pretend you don’t see how the latter keeps fiddling with the necklace he dons, acting like every time you catch a glimpse of it Kiri’s words aren’t ringing in your ears.

It is harder than one would think.

Lo’ak is just wrapping up his recollection, explaining how he told the tulkun that saved his life to swim away and that was the last he saw of him before he was picked up by the search party. It seems so surreal, a miraculous sort of thing. You’re left stunned by the time he quits talking.  

“I wish I’d been there,” Kiri muses, eyes lit up in awe; wonder. Her smile is so bright that it makes you wish she could have been there, too. Divine occurrences have always been so special to her. “The ocean blessed you with a gift, brother.”

You’re inclined to agree, voice your own opinion on that, but Ao’nung is speaking up before you get the chance.

“The tulkun have not returned yet.” It sounds matter-of-fact when he says it, like he’s bordering on a disputing scoff, but even you can tell he’s merely questioning it because that is what he knows. “And anyway, no tulkun is ever alone.”

“Well, this one was,” Lo’ak counters. His hand waves to his side, over his arm in a sort of vague demonstration. “He had a, uhm–a missing fin. Like a stump on the left side.”

Tuk mumbles an empathetic reply to that and in your heart you hold the same sentiment. A tulkun without a fin sounds so cruel, so pitiable. It strikes the question of how something like that could even happen, how a tulkun could become so mutilated in such a way. You look across from you to Tsireya with full intentions to ask, but her eyes widening has you wavering.

“That’s Payakan,” she whispers, then turns to Ao’nung and Rotxo and raises the volume of her proclamation. “It’s Payakan.”

Kiri tips her head. “Who’s Payakan?” 

“And why do you say his name like that?” You add, not failing to pick up on the ill filter of her tone as she recited it. It has your stomach feeling heavy, your mind alert. 

“He’s a young bull who went rogue,” Rotxo explains, catching your attention. His expression holds nothing but offhand confusion. “He’s outcast. Alone. And he has a missing fin.”

“They say he is a killer,” Tsireya presses, hand reaching out for Lo’ak’s arm like she’s trying to make him feel the seriousness of this implication. 

You lurch at that. “A killer?” Your brother was left alone in the open ocean with a killer?

“No.” Lo’ak shakes his head. “ No. ”

“He killed Na’vi,” Ao’nung expounds. His tone is more sincerely serious than you think you’ve ever heard it, which is doing absolutely nothing to console you. “And other tulkun. Not here, but far to the south.”

“No, he’s no killer!” Lo’ak continues to refuse the idea, push it as far off as he can. Your concerns are in multitude, of course, but he seems so sure about his standpoint on this that it has you questioning which side you should be agreeing with here. 

“Lo’ak,” Tsireya breathes, giving his arm a squeeze. “You are lucky to be alive.”

“I’m telling you guys, he saved my life.” His voice is laced solely in sincerity. It’s like he’s desperate for someone, anyone, to just believe what he’s saying. To just listen to him. “He’s my friend.”

There’s a sliver of silence that follows–a fleeting moment where it is obvious that no one is entirely sure on what to say next–and Neteyam, who has not spoken up yet once during the duration of this, stands up. 

“My baby bro, the mighty warrior,” he smiles, leaning over Lo’ak to grip onto his shoulders and give them a lighthearted, teasing shake. “Who faced the killer tulkun and lived to tell about it.”

You can see the frustration on Lo’ak’s face before he voices it. He shoves Neteyam off with a dry hiss and stands up from the circle. “You guys aren’t listening,” he sighs, throwing his hands up in defeat before he turns to walk away.

“ Lo’ak, ” you drone, an indirect request for him to stop walking away as your sisters do the same. When you realize he isn’t turning around, you smack Neteyam (who still hasn’t sat back down) on the thigh with the back of your hand and glare up at him. “Did you really have to do that?”

“What?” he huffs, showing his own palms like he didn’t do a single thing wrong. 

Ignoring him, you turn your eyes back to your brother, who keeps stalking off until he’s out of sight headed to where the ilu gear is kept. You consider the possibilities of where he’s going, what he’s thinking, but if you’re being truthful with yourself you already know full and well the destination he has in mind.

Worry is something you feel far too often–the threat of blowing a blood vessel is always so damn prevalent in this family–but now you do your best to swallow it whole. Whatever Lo’ak is doing, he’s doing because he thinks it to be right.

And you refuse to be the one who gets in the middle of that.

——————————————————————————

The only regret you have for not chasing after Lo’ak yourself once he stormed off is that you feel a bit bad about what he’s going to be missing. Tsireya and Rotxo are taking you to their direct connection with Eywa today. 

The journey isn’t far, but it is more than just a swim around the reef, so Tuk hitches a ride on the back of Kiri’s ilu instead of riding her own. You’re positioned on the back of Neteyam’s–because even though you have been getting better about the whole being underwater thing, you haven’t quite reached the point of feeling comfortable riding one of your own–but he doesn’t seem to mind your presence there; it’s almost as if he welcomes it.

You find delight in that prospect.

It’s getting late, the time table of the day closing down, when your group breaks out of the water for the final time. Tsireya flashes you all a smile, dimple dipping into her cheek as you glide under a low hanging rock. She announces your arrival, looks over her shoulder to clock all of your reactions once you’re underneath the rock no longer and can really see where it is she has brought you.

The only word you can find to describe it is beautiful, but even that doesn’t feel like it does it any true justice. Your eyes flit all around, taking it all in, letting yourself record mental logs of what will now be your replacement for a physical contact with the great mother. Rocks are floating like they’re laced with helium, arches are carved like they’re meant to hold the sphere of your planet’s entirety in their sheath. Something draws at you, like a string wrapped around your heart chords.

Like a childhood friend, pulling at your hand to come play.  

“This is the Cove of the Ancestors. Our most sacred place. Eclipse is the best time of day to be here,” Tsireya continues as the last sliver of daylight fades out, and you are listening, but you find yourself getting lost in the feeling of it all, too. Then, she stops, and the luminescence below you tells you where you are before she even has the chance to. “This is it. This is the Spirit Tree.” 

If the cove is beautiful, then there must be a word out there that surpasses it that one can only use to describe this. It’s so captivating that it nearly feels like a trance–slipping off Neteyam’s ilu and sucking in a breath easier than it has ever been before. More willing, more inclined; the pressure of the water doesn’t even cross your mind as you follow behind Tsireya to the heart of the tree. 

Something’s tugging.

The Spirit Tree holds such a striking resemblance to the Tree of Souls that you find your hands nearly trembling as you swim. Everything has felt so foreign, so new, since coming here. Having something like this–even if these limbs float upwards towards the surface of the water instead of blowing freely below in the wind–feels like having a piece of home.

Familiarity fabricated in fallace.

You wait until Tsireya gives you the signal, the okay to connect to the tree with a supportive smile, before you swim up to any specific limb. It’s only when you have it directly in front of you, when you reach back and hold your queue in your hand, that it hits you that this will be your first time connecting to Eywa in such an extended period of time.

Anxiety isn’t what you would define it as, but something starts prickling at the back of your neck, scratching at the base of your spine. You curse yourself for having such a feeling right now of all times, when you were just fine a moment before. But it’s only normal, you think, in a time like this. You contemplate opting out, just swimming to the surface to clear your head. 

Then Neteyam swims up to the limb beside you, sends you a bemused quirk of his lips as he holds his own queue in his hand, and it’s like the sight of him alone makes that all go away. So with a practiced sense of composure, you lift your neural queue to the projection–allow the tendrils to spread along the surface–and you connect with the slow flutter shut of your eyelids. 

The Great Mother’s power has always been different for you.

Connecting to a spiritual hub is a unique experience for everyone, granted. It can be a gateway to the past, or serve as a reunion with loved ones young and old who you hold dear. Most see family members that have already gone on to meet the Great Mother, people they have lost along the way of their lives or even before it. For instance, when Kiri shifts through she sees Grace, gets to talk to her biological mother even though they never had the chance to bodily meet in the proper sense. You’ve heard Jake speak of how he talks with Tsu’tey, his brother, and others in his family.

But you– you have no one to really meet. You do not know your birth parents and though you are well aware Eywa must obtain that information, she has yet to share even a glimpse of them with you in all your nineteen years of life. You used to try bargaining, begging, for just one meeting with them; you wouldn’t even need a conversation, just a single glance at their face. But Eywa has never obliged to your request, never given in, so what you settle on reliving is the memories.

Memories are like medicine; they either heal the ailments of your body and soul or turn you into a dependent addict. You think you might be a novice addict half healed. 

It’s foggy at first, as the pictures begin to flash behind your eyelids. Like readjusting your sight to the sun, you have to blink through your mind for the memory to come into focus. (An odd sensation, if you are not used to it). When it does, it’s almost like watching a movie filmed by a camera in your pupil–your perspective alone, like you’re reenacting it in real time.

“ Come on! ” Lo’ak shouts as he runs past you, bumping against you with Spider in tow. His voice nearly resembles an echo, like it isn’t fully clear. Almost as if he’s yelling from the end of a canal.

They’re young, here; giggling as they splash through a creek. They can’t be more than four and six, which would set you as the same. Kiri runs up next to you and smiles, hair stuck to her forehead in wet strings. Childhood exudes well on her, on all of them. Something feels tight on your face as you smile back.

“ Where are we going? ” you ask, voice just as hollow as Lo’ak’s from before even if it’s littered with laughter as you rush to follow after them. Your feet slip on some of the rocks and you hurry to catch yourself. Glancing down you see the moss covering them, coating them in slick tissue. It makes you pause, for just a moment.

But a moment is all you get. You are not granted much leeway here. Your body moves forward before you will it to, like you are not the one operating it. However, you suppose that is partially true. The thing with memories shown to you by Eywa is that you’re only allowed as much variance as she wishes you to have; nothing more and nothing less.

You let yourself be pulled along. 

The creek gets deeper as you race with your siblings, less rocks protruding to step on and more water lapping at your ankles. Before you know it you’re going around a bend, losing sight of Lo’ak and Spider for just a moment as the creek rises all the way up to the middle of your small shins. By the time you make it past the curvature, they’re already climbing up a rocky embankment.

Their hands don’t even grip onto anything solid, just the lush vines that drape over the bluff’s surface. There’s a sinking in your gut, like those moss covered stones have found their way in and decided to weigh you down. You rush towards them, start to climb up yourself to stop them.

“ Get down. Get down! ” You call, desperate, and you just can’t seem to remember why. This is your memory, something you have already lived through, but it’s like you’re seeing it all for the very first time. This is not something you are used to, the unfamiliarity is destabilizing.

They don’t listen to you, don’t obey your request. They simply persist to laugh, continuing climbing up the unsecured vines. Spider even lets go to hold on with just one hand as he turns to look down at you. “ Catch us if you can! ”

And something just doesn’t feel right. It’s like listening to a ghost story knowing the riveting is creeping up right behind you, like it’s breathing down your neck. You’re growing frantic, panicked. You keep climbing.

“ Stop it! ” You shout once more, and this time your voice cracks. “ You’re gonna get in trouble. You’re gonna– ”

Your hand slips, the rock crumbles under your fingertips. Falling backwards like the monster of your bedtime fears has you in its grasp now to drag you down. The weight in your gut turns featherlight as your gravity shifts. You land hard, not fully on your side but tilted just enough that your temple is what ricochets against the riverbed. 

There’s shrill shrieks of your name–from Lo’ak, Spider, Kiri who rushes to your side, screaming for Jake, Neytiri, Neteyam, anyone to come and help–and suddenly you’re gasping. Your young hands fly up to your face, your little palms flash into your vision frantically, and it’s like the sheet of unawareness lifts in an instant.

Because the fingertips that search for your face don’t quite reach it with direct contact, and they are not the shade of dusty blue that they are now. The tightness from before that smushed against your smile was not apprehension, but an O2 mask tightened with protocol security. And each gasp you suck in is not due to the wind being knocked out of you, no. Rather it’s by the crack in the perspex that is not only letting in the toxicities of the Pandoran air but also the water of the creek in which you have fallen. You know this memory all too well, despite how you do your best to pretend it doesn’t exist.

You’re drowning, in every aspect one is able to.

It becomes too much, too real for you to relive, and you fight your hardest to break off the connection with Eywa abruptly. The gasping nearly translates, almost conveying through your body in real time as you jerk your neural queue back from the branch to which you connected it. You can’t even take a breath to calm yourself down, still stuck underwater and meters from the surface. Movements fraught, you reach for anything to root yourself, to catch a single calming moment.

And it’s Neteyam, who you come in contact with first. Your hand grips onto his arm; hold tight and unrelenting. His palm is covering yours in an instant, breaking from his own queue in without a single hesitation. The look on his face is questioning, concerned, as he does his best to silently search for what is wrong. You shudder, try to stop the trembling of your body the best you can with no ounce of succeeding. Why would Eywa show you such a memory? Why now?

Neteyam’s hold on your hand tightens as he pries it off his arm. Unsure of what he is doing, worried he is going to let go, you watch intently (fearfully) as he moves it. But his actions wave that away promptly as he takes your hand and places it to his chest. 

Directly over his heart.

He nods his head at you, reaches forward to put his free palm on your chest too. Like a way of saying you can do this, you’ve done this. Allow yourself to calm down and listen to my heartbeat and we can settle this together . 

Because it’s always together, isn’t it?

Neteyam keeps his palm to your chest until he feels it slow back to its near resting pace. But even then, he does not pull away for a few more moments, a few more steady beats–like he needs to be truly sure that you are alright, now. He’s tentative when he retracts his touch, pulls his hands away to go back to keeping himself afloat in the water, and you let the memory fade from you.

But not before remembering one final detail of it.

You’re about to raise your own hands to gesture him a thank you, mimic a sign that Tsireya taught you when you were first learning–you feel like all you’re conveying to Neteyam lately is some form of appreciation; he better not be getting a big head about it–but before you can, the branches all around you begin flickering. Flashing and blinking in the most erratic way. Your heads whip around for the source, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt the blood drain from your fingers as fast as it does now when you spot it.

Kiri is convulsing, body rigid and tight. You and Neteyam swim to her instantly, Tsireya reaching over and disconnecting her from the Spirit Tree and pushing her body upward. Neteyam takes over once he gets to her, holds her close and swims to the surface as quickly as possible. 

Everything feels like it’s moving too fast and too slow at the same time as you break through the surface and Neteyam drags Kiri over to his ilu. You and Rotxo help him push her up onto it, and feeling her body like this–limp, lifeless–has tears welling in your wet eyes. 

“What is wrong? What is it?” Tuk calls, whines out as you’re doing your best to get Kiri adjusted briskly. 

“It was a seizure,” Neteyam huffs before bending down to give her instant mouth to mouth.

“Watch her head,” you voice, hands shaking as you help hold it in place so he can breathe life into your faint sister again. You pray to Eywa, to anyone , that this will not be where your sister enters eternal sleep. “Kiri, please. ”

“Is she breathing?” Rotxo questions, and he sounds just as concerned as you do, just as rushed even as he repeats himself. 

Then, in a beat that has you shuddering out a ragged sigh, Kiri lets out a puff of a breath. Relief floods your bones but only in fragments. She’s breathing, yes, but for how long? When will another seizure come on? When will this turn awry again? Urgency stays rooted in your chest as you push back from Neteyam’s ilu. 

“Get her to the village,” Tsireya orders, already pulling Tuk onto her ilu with her. “Hurry!”

Neteyam does not need to be told twice. He is sending his ilu forward within the next second, one hand secure on Kiri and the other holding on to his animal. Someone starts to pull at your arm; Rotxo, hauling you to his ilu and advising you to climb on behind him. You do, without question. 

Your tremor plagued hands latch around his midsection as you try to swallow the worry for your sister–an impossible feat. Rotxo senses it, notices it, and places a hand over yours in a gesture you can’t decipher from reassuring or comforting. Though when it all boils down to it, you suppose it doesn’t matter. 

Because you’re indebted to it regardless. 

——————————————————————————

Kiri is brought to your family’s marui the second your convoy reaches the island, and you refuse to leave her side for anything. You sit beside her, holding her hand and watching as her chest rises and falls with every breath she takes. Maybe it’s a bit irrational, but it almost feels like if you look away she’ll stop–like your attention is the only thing keeping the rhythm going. So you stay in place and keep your focus, for Kiri’s sake and your own. 

Jake called in Norm and Max without much thought at all. Perhaps it's the human still in him, but seizures are in a pretty well known territory for the scientists from Earth. You can’t say you blame him for it–you’d call in anyone it takes to figure out what’s wrong with your sister and see her wake up–but it does make the passing thought cross your mind of how it makes the Metkayina people feel to have skypeople on their land. 

Maybe that makes you a hypocrite.

The beeping of machines is becoming melodic, everything they have hooked up to Kiri to check her vitals and look for occurrences scattered around on the floor. Norm and Max have been running scans and tests since they first walked in, and they’ve still found nothing. It’s making you aggravated. 

“There’s no bleed. There’s no fracture. No effects of hypoxia,” Max states as he studies his tablet screen. He shrugs, seemingly dumbfounded. “Brain looks good.”

It’s obviously not good, is what you want to mouth off. Something clearly is wrong for her to have a seizure in the middle of a spiritual connection like that. She has no record of it before, no signs leading to something like this happening. There is something going on with your sister, and if they can’t seem to figure it out then you would prefer them to just leave–family friends trying their hardest or not. 

Ronal’s voice is the first thing that has you even slightly veering your attention away from Kiri beside you for the first time in hours. “I see that I am not needed here,” she grumbles, gripes, and you can’t say you blame her. Your family has brought in people that overstep her role; you think you would feel pushed away too. She goes to walk back out but Neytiri is quick to grab her. 

“You are tsahìk,” she hisses, and you think she’s brave for doing so at Ronal, now of all times. But something flickers across the woman’s face, and she bites her tongue instead of throwing back a hiss to your mother like you expected. 

“Remove these things,” she orders, voice level, but Neytiri does not convey that when she turns to the scientists beside you.

“ Out! ” She snaps, already shoving at them like they should have been out of the way before she even requested it. Then again, maybe they should’ve. “You have done nothing!”

Jake speaks nervously to Max and Norm at the order, rushing to get their things out and gone. Fearing an angry Neytiri seems to be a universal concurrence among your family and those surrounding. Rightfully so, you believe, so you shove the cuffs and plugs off of Kiri as well, tossing them haphazardly to Norm as he scrambles to get all the equipment. 

They are out in less than a minute, their things shoved just outside the entrance of the hut. Jake follows them out, leaving to speak with Max and Norm about what they think the cause is, you’re sure. But you are over paying any mind to them and you are not given the opportunity to listen in anyways because Ronal is handing you an incense-esque bowl a moment later.

You cradle it as she begins her ritual–for cleansing, healing–and do your best to keep steady hands while doing so. She presses the wood along Kiri’s skin in a line, a practiced pattern as she mumbles sacred words to herself. Over and over again this continues. You pass the holder to Tuk when it is time to turn Kiri onto her side, so that you can assist Ronal to hold her there. You’re willing to do everything needed for this to work, willing to offer whatever help you can. 

Kiri’s on her back once again, Tuk cradling her head in her lap as you rub your thumb over her knuckles. Ronal breathes in against her stomach–once, twice–then leans up to funnel the air out. Once more, she repeats this, and just as she leans up to exhale it all again, Kiri’s eyes flutter.

She blinks hazily into consciousness, eyes disoriented as she regrasps reality in the moment. You allow it now, the feeling of relief to blanket you fully. Your sister is breathing and awake; she is okay, even if that means just for this segment of time. 

“Kiri,” Tuk sighs, watery eyes threatening to overflow. “You’re awake.”

It starts with a quiver of her lips, a crinkle of her eyes; a cry wracks out of Kiri’s lips as she fully wakes up. You tighten your grip on her hand, lean forward to cup her face and wipe away the tears that begin to stream down as Neytiri whispers sweet comforts to her. You allow the relief to flow through you, but you find that it does nothing to stop the cracking of your heart at seeing your sister in such a state.

Nevertheless, you turn to Ronal, who is now collecting her things back on the tray she carried them in on. She kneels near you to reach for a certain container and you drop Kiri’s hand for a single moment, just to touch her arm. Her gaze snaps to you instantly, caught off guard, and you offer up a wobbly smile. 

“Thank you.” It’s all you say, all you can get out, before you release your grip and pick up your sister’s hand again. Ronal nods to you, commiserating, and stands to give your family a moment of privacy. 

As your attention falls back onto Kiri, you mumble another string of gratitude under your breath. Just in passing, merely minor. You may be at slight odds with Eywa right now for her own personal showcases towards you, but you find the need to thank her for the protection of your sister despite that. So that is what you do.

——————————————————————————

You can’t sleep. Something that has seemingly become a rather normal occurrence for you within the passing weeks, but especially now. 

Every time you cave into slumber, you’re jolting awake just mere minutes later. Whether it’s from the fear that you need to check and make sure your sister is still breathing next to you, nightmares about whatever the hell could be happening to your brother, or that unfair memory the Great Mother decided to plant in your mind again–any scenario has you unable to get any sufficient means of rest. 

Hence you find yourself where you are now. Sitting on the edge of the netting outside of your family’s marui, legs dangling over the edge as you stare down at the very water which chooses to beset your nightmares. It’s funny how something so crucial to one’s life can cause such a hindrance in yours.

The netting beside you dips and for once it doesn’t cause you to jump. Probably the sleep deprivation making your nerves shot, if you gave a half-assed guess on the matter. Neteyam, is who you expect it to be, though you’re not sure why he’s the first person to surge through your mind as a possibility. You suppose you can add that to the list of things that are keeping you up at night. 

But when you turn to greet who has joined you at this late hour, you find that it is not Neteyam after all; but Jake. He looks at you with a soft expression, a contented sort of diction. You don’t miss the hairline crease between his brows though, even in the dark. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, babygirl?” He queries, and you fight the urge to bubble out a laugh. Because of course he picks up on it and of course he comes right out with it instead of trying to sugar coat his way in. 

Jake is a good father at every baseline margin, even if there are some things he can work on. He’s known to be a little too harsh (with Lo’ak and Neteyam especially), or a tad too overlooking (according to Tuk and Kiri), but it is all done in the name of family preservation; a safety net to catch everyone in case they fall. He has his quirks, like any parent does, but he is doing his finest in the only way he knows how. 

To you, that has always translated more explicitly. 

Truth be told, you think he is so forthcoming with you because your origins are one in the same. His other children are hybrids, so he sincerely tries his hardest to empathize with the trials they face from that. But when it comes to you; he knows. He knows exactly what it feels like, having your soul transferred into a body of an entirely different species. Exactly what it feels like, to now share the same skin but not the same heritage. To face the things you do, the glares you receive, the distrust you are bestowed. 

He believes he understands all too well what it is like to live a life like yours, so he conveys that to you the best he can. And yet he does not truly get it himself, you surmise. 

Because even he–Jake Sully, the great Toruk Macto–was eventually accepted with open arms into the hearts of the Na’vi, and the closest thing you’ve ever received to favorable reception was tight lipped smiles paired with the halfhearted decency to at least not call you a pariah to your face and instead whisper it behind your back. 

But you choose not to worry with formalities such as that. Or at least pretend you don’t, anyways, for the sake of your momentary sanity. 

“Nothing,” you respond with a shrug, a shake of your head. Adding more onto your father’s plate is not in your interest. You’ve already caused enough trouble, you do not wish to stir up alarm along with it. “Just not tired.”

Your body must have a vendetta against you–probably retaliation from depriving it of sleep–because as soon as you say it a yawn is cracking your jaw open. You try to stifle it, but it’s no use. There’s no hiding it and you don’t even really have it in you to attempt such a feat.

“That so?” He’s smiling; even though you aren’t looking at him you can hear the amusement in his voice. But his tone takes a pivotal dip directly afterwards, turns somber in a wink. “Seriously, tell me what’s going on. Is it your brother?” 

Yes , you want to confirm, agree with his assumption–but that’s not really the true root of the problem, is it? Spider is only one of the variables, a singular plot point on the declining graph of your stability, but he isn’t the sole cause of the drop. 

Your fingers fiddle with each other, five to five as you try to stave off the attention. 

“(Y/n), c’mon.” He’s pressing, keen. His heavy hand comes to rest on your shoulder and you cannot help but lean into the comfort of the accustomed touch. “We stick together, remember? How can I help you if you won’t tell me what’s eatin’ you?”

You suppose he has a point. This family is always so driven for solidarity, so determined to do things hand in hand. Maybe, you stave off on that too much. Maybe, you do not live up to your found family’s staple ideal enough. Perhaps you can give in, open up, just ever so slightly. Just this once. 

“I’m.. scared.” 

It’s vague, open-ended enough that you think it to be something easy to pass. But even so, it is the truth. There is no falsity in your statement, no fray in the cords that bind it together. You are scared; and that fact alone should do well enough to quell your father. 

“Alright,” Jake sighs through his nose, squeezes your shoulder in a way only a parental figure does. He pauses for a moment, like he’s contemplating how he wants to go from here. “Is something gettin’ to you specifically, or..?”

You shake your head in response, try not to blow out a cynical chuckle at the implication. Of course there are things getting to you specifically –that much should be blatantly obvious. But you do not feel like adding onto that at this stage, and you think that comfort for generality would do just as well as comfort for specificity, so you are more than willing to settle for the former. 

“Okay,” he nods, shifts over to pull you closer to him, into the warmth of his side. He leans his cheek to the top of your head, turns just enough to press a faint kiss there before settling back against your crown. “You don’t have to be scared of anything. I’ll always be right here. Don’t forget that, babygirl.”

And even if it might seem trivial later on, even if it becomes insignificant, his words hold just enough weight right now that you allow yourself to relax. Eyelids fluttering shut, you rest against your stand-in father as he rubs soothing circles into your shoulder. 

You aren’t sure when it is that you finally drift off to sleep, or how you get back into your cot, but that night is the first night you get more than a blink of rest in a while. 

And you don’t feel the smallest inkling of scared, even if it’s for just one single, peaceful moment. 

——————————————————————————

Kiri has–understandably–not quite been herself since the incident.

Well actually, it isn’t particularly out of character for her to become a little moody or withdrawn every now and again. She has her days (which normally you’re always keyed into right along with her), but it’s different now. The awe sourced light that is usually shining behind her crystal irises has dimmed. Her liveliness has diminished. 

Like she’s becoming a shell of herself, so she doesn’t have to feel anything at all. 

Aching becomes a common sensation, a near habitual feeling the more you stay around her–but you just can’t bring yourself to leave her side. If she is going to close herself off, then you are going to put your foot in the door; create a crack to break the bridge between her and impending isolation.

You’re placed beside her even now, as your family stands around within your marui tidying things up. By the rules, everyone is supposed to deal with their own belongings and if someone wants to help once done with their own, then they can. Those rules seem nugatory; trifling, now.

Kiri has been making work of tying up her sleeping mat for a good five minutes straight now, but in reality she’s only been fiddling with the string tied around it for the past three. Be that as it may, you choose to pick up her slack instead of drawing attention to her lack of productivity. 

Being sloppy is not in your nature when it comes to things like this (perhaps you have a slim case of post traumatic stress from Neytiri’s scolding for doing things messily as a child) so you find it hard to rush through doing double the work. Near stressful, it would be, yet it doesn’t get the chance to progress to such a stage because a hand is reaching down to grab up your mat while you’re focused on regrouping some of Kiri’s belongings. 

Neteyam presses his lips together in a tight smile–a passing of a deliberate glance–and begins rolling your mat up in the exact way you like it to be done. You try to tell yourself that it’s nothing but expected that he’s aware you prefer to double knot the binding instead of single after all these years of knowing one another–it’s not like you aren’t also aware of how he favors the order of his effects in his pack to be–and even still, it has a butterfly hatching in your stomach as you take note of it.

You’re just about through with the remainder of Kiri’s and your’s things when you hear the first one. A horn, being blown out to sound the arrival of.. what? It has all of your heads turning–well, except for Kiri, who doesn’t even offer up a tip of her head, let alone a full turn–to the entrance of your hut.

“What was that?” Tuk pipes up as she drops her mat (very poorly rolled up, you’ll fix it later when she isn’t looking) to go and see what the fuss is about. 

“What’s going on?” Lo’ak builds onto the inquiry as everyone of your family apart from you and your sister venture towards the netted pathway. 

“The tulkun have returned!” It’s Tsireya, you recognize the faint trill of her voice as it passes by in a sweep. She’s probably on her ilu, sent by her parents to make the announcement to everyone if you had to assume. “Everybody, our brothers and sisters have returned!”

One by one, Lo’ak of course making his beeline first, each member of your family dips out of your home and away from sight as they go to investigate further. The tulkun have returned, they have completed a migration cycle and come back home to their Metkayina family, and you want to go see, but..

Your gaze flickers to Kiri, who has yet to move even an inch, despite the fact that you know she heard Tsireya’s bulletin. A few weeks ago, she would have been the first to run out of here, the first to see their grand homecoming. You try to think of something to say, a way to suggest maybe going to look that your sister would actually be inclined to accept.

However, your youngest sister is bouncing back in before you can even come up with one good solution. “Kiri! (Y/n)! Come on, come on!” Tuk bounds, running over to the two of you and grabbing each of your hands in her own. 

“Tuk, leave me alone,” Kiri huffs, tries to pull her hand back from Tuk’s hold but it’s no use. She’s already heaving the pair of you to your feet. Exasperated, a groan drags out of Kiri’s chest. “ What? What do you want?”

“Look!”

As soon as you’re hauled out of your marui and blinking in the sunlit view, you’re hit with a wave of amazement so compelling that you wonder for a second whether you need to sit back down to regain yourself. The tulkun are all banking in, calling for their Na’vi counterparts, like they’re harmonizing a welcome home melody.

It’s nothing short of magnificent.

“Come on,” Tuk beams, “Let’s go meet them!”

As you let Tuk drag you along, you turn your head to catch Kiri’s gaze, and the sight you’re greeted with nearly has the stunning reunion before you paling in comparison. A smile, stretched wide and dimpled into her svelte cheeks, is on full display. No more cinched brows, no more pursed lips.

Just pure, unadulterated joy. Radiating like a gleaming sun.

Your expression mirrors it; you wouldn’t be able to stop the grin even if you tried. The ache grows dull, faint between your ribcage. You release Tuk’s hand so she can drag Kiri towards her ilu as you get to the shore, finally feeling secure enough to let her go. To see her thrive, again.

Flitting your eyes across the span of shoreline and aquatic celebration ahead, you pause at the sight of someone specific still standing on dry land. It catches you off guard, has curiosity rolling to the tip of your tongue; because why is he not already in the water, embracing such a momentous occasion with everyone else?

“Why are you still here?” You nudge Neteyam slightly, breaking his attention from the show in front of him and focusing it all entirely on you, instead.

“I was waiting for you,” he says, candidly, like it should be obvious. Like there is no other possible reason he’d still be stuck on shore with his ilu drifting nearby. You try not to blunder.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I’ll always wait for you,” he adheres as he wades into the shallows to climb onto his companion. His hand is reaching out for yours promptly, a proposition to join him, and you take it with no more than a sliver of hesitation. 

Biting back grins is apparently not a strong suit of yours today, because the tilt of your lips gives way easily. You walk through the water, letting the cool waves lap at your shins, and mount right behind him. He drops your hand only when you go to hold onto him; a ghost of reluctance shadowing his face. The obscurity flickers away in a blink, though, and he’s tossing you one more smile over his shoulder before taking off–heading to the heart of the celebration.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything quite so moving.

Metkayinas young and old–some merely babies–swim and float amongst the water to meet with their spirit brothers and sisters. Witnessing relationships between bonded pairs is one of the most transcendent honors one can bestow in their lifetime; that is what Neytiri used to tell each of you when watching your siblings create their first affixion. You never doubted that sentiment, but now it rings truer than you thought it ever could.

A tulkun breaches out of the water to your left, their Na’vi pair doing the same; a mimic of each other, a mirror of souls. It is not deliberate, of course, yet its fin edges dangerously close as it begins to descend back to the waves it’s created. You suck in a breath–solely out of surprise–but you are thankful you have done so a moment later because Neteyam is sending his ilu into a dive. Quick thinking, he has, to weave the pair of you out of the way in just the knick of time. He’s rising out of the water as soon as it’s clear, turning back to you before you can even draw a proper inhale in.

“Sorry I didn’t give any warning. I should’ve told you before I just–”

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” you reassure through a chuckle at his rushing, wiping at your eyes. “I’m fine. Can we do it again?”

He loosens up, relaxes in a way that you can feel his back become more pliable against you as he nods. You regain your grip on him around his abdomen, lock your hands so you’re better prepared this time. A boyish grin is what he flashes to you after which he sucks in a gust of air–which you copy–before he’s sending his ilu forward at a downward angle once again.

Captivating is the view of the tulkun’s homecoming from above, but bewitching is it once you are blanketed in oceanic blue.

Children–Na’vi and tulkun alike–are being introduced for the very first time. Families are reuniting. They are swimming in sync, like their hearts beat as one. You wonder, by chance, if they do. It would not surprise you, would not startle you one bit. Something as special as this must hold well in the sight of Eywa. Must put forth the most profound of links.

You make out Kiri and Tuk, holding onto a tulkun’s fin as it swims through the water, Rotxo hanging onto the bottom of the same one. Still beaming, still light. Such a beautiful sight to be graced with. Too beautiful, maybe. 

Perhaps you should have better bearings on yourself–perhaps, you should not let yourself be swayed so easily by the things around you–because in all your pursuing in the magnificent, you let your mind stray from the focus of holding onto Neteyam tight enough.

By the time you feel your grip loosening it’s too late. Your heart skips a beat, your throat constricts in a faux gasp. Right out of your fingers (in the most literal sense) you feel Neteyam begin to slip from you. It’s plummeting, has your mind already plateauing directly to watery graves.

Yet you don’t get any closer to drifting backwards than that. Before you can so much as shift a few inches away, Neteyam’s already reaching back for you. His palm lands on your thigh; circles his grip around the back of it and pulls you back in contact with him. Chest to back, skin to skin. You fully expect him to let go once you loop your arms around him again, but he doesn’t. If anything, it’s almost as if he’s holding you tighter.

And you, well. 

Maybe you’re a little bit tired of trying to bury all the sprouts of affection that want so desperately to bloom out of you. You think you might be well past trying to swallow down the saccharine syrup that longs so desperately to drip off your tongue. So you do not protest, you do not nudge his hand away. You simply cling onto him securely and let your head rest on his shoulder as you take in the show of pure, virtuous love all around you. And you feel your own, blossom in real time.

You’re content, surprisingly at peace, under the water as reconnecting life bustles every which way. Everyone seems so joyous–and who would have a reason not to be? Tsireya is the next familiar face you spot, and she is quite a bit away so you can’t be too sure, but you are near positive she is telling her spirit sister about Lo’ak by the gestures her hands convey. You know your brother would be giddy at the sight of it–even if he would try to act gruff to hide it–so you lift your head to look for him. 

He isn’t far (as if he would put too much distance between him and Tsireya, that fact should be obvious), just floating near the surface with his face a smidgen below the waves to peer beneath him. But it is not the lighthearted, love-struck expression you thought you were going to find outlining his features as he watches them. If you had to choose a single word to describe it, you think you’d have to go with yearning. And somehow, you know it is not romantic in nature.

Nor is it directed towards the chief’s daughter. 

——————————————————————————

Following Lo’ak without him knowing is concerningly easy.

After alerting Neteyam of your hunches, he’s all too willing to send a little party forward to see just what his little brother is getting up to. The pair of you–along with Tsireya, Ao’nung, and Rotxo–follow him to the Three Brothers island chain, which only confirms your suspicions as true. And if the location was not sufficient enough, diving and finding him face to face with the fabled Payakan would have certainly concluded your hypothesis.

Observing him speak to the tulkun is easy enough (though you’d be lying if the whole “killer” title didn’t still leave an off putting churn in your gut), but it is when Payakan opens his mouth that you decide this is not a good idea after all. 

Lo’ak has always been so trusting, so unquestioning when it comes to things he’s already set his mind on being true. And now, as he swims forward without even a single falter of uncertainty into the whale’s open mouth, you find this case is no different. 

You were fine to watch him converse. You were fine to see him swim forward (stupidly). But as soon as Payakan closes his mouth around your brother, you are no longer fine at all. 

Surging forward, your only thought is to save him; which must be an ideal you and Neteyam share because his movements are the same. However, before either of you can get any more than a foot ahead, the chief’s children are grabbing at you. You send a glare back at Ao’nung, a question of concern for why he would still you. He simply signs for you to stop–wait.

There is nothing you can do now except bide the time until Payakan–hopefully–spits your brother back out of his immense jaws. It feels like hours but you know it is no more than a few minutes when your internal turmoil comes to a close as the sight of your brother begins to peek out of the monstrous tulkun before you. When he emerges there is something different about him, something despondent. It’s nearly palpable, the energy radiating as he swims back up to the surface.

He’s created a bond. But, simultaneously, he’s created a fissure. And you are not too enticed with the premise of how it will break.

Returning to the mainland, you find yourself drifting protectively towards Lo’ak as Tsireya goes to alert her parents of what has occurred. Tonowari and Ronal do not speak as they lead your group–minus Rotxo, who was gifted the unfair pleasure of slipping away from whatever is to become of this–to their marui. Ronal waits for everyone, stands to the side to make sure all of you fall in before she trails behind you.

The tension is nearly tangible.

“You allowed this,” she huffs at her children as she stalks into the hut. But then, her focus shifts, lines up directly with Tsireya as she points an accusing finger to your brother. “You allowed him to bond with the outcast!”

Tonowari is circling in too, honing in on her. It’s like watching ikrans pick off a defenseless fan lizard; how could one even fight back to such an obtuse threat? It has your tongue feeling heavy in the bed of your mouth, like a lead slate. 

“Tsireya,” the chief addresses. Tone solemn, grim. “You disappoint me, daughter.” He’s turning to Lo’ak directly after, the same timbre used, the same expression carved into his strong features. “And you. Son of a great warrior. Who has been taught better. ”

“Payakan saved my life, sir,” Lo’ak responds immediately, diligently. It’s almost deja vu to when he was explaining Payakan for the first time to all of you. You remember the lilt in his speech so prominently. Recall the sentiment behind it all. “You don’t know him.”

“No, Lo’ak,” Tsireya hearkens; to save face, to stop another disagreement. To keep peace, is the bottom line. You understand her need to do such, but for some reason you hesitate to get behind it.

Your parents are here, now. Jake and Neytiri stand at the edge of the hut, just inside. Maybe that’s where Rotxo went–to inform them of this meeting that was sure to happen. That falls into line with him, you think, but a piece of you wishes they had not been told. Their presence looming behind you feels formidable. Much like Tonowari’s gaze as he studies each of you.

“Sit,” he utters once, as he begins to lower himself. “Sit,” he orders again, to which Lo’ak is the only one to obey his request. Then, he grows aggravated, demanding. “ Sit down! ” he raises his voice, and you have never taken a seat faster in your life.

You toss a glance to Tsireya, who has been near tears this entire time. Her self control is admirable, her strength is not one to be overlooked, because even though the tears well to the brink of overflow, not a single one falls. Your stomach twists as you shift focus back to Tonowari, contempt carving into the base of your skull.

“Hear my words, boy.” His voice is softer now, not as sharp, but it still holds authoritative weight. Commanding of respect, attention. “In the days of the first songs, tulkun fought amongst themselves. For territory, and for revenge. But they came to believe that killing–no matter how justified–only brings more killing. So killing was forbidden. This is the tulkun way.” It’s blunt, honest. This story has been told before, one can tell. But the last bit of information has not, and that you are well aware of. “Payakan is a killer. So, he is outcast.”

It is easy to notice how no one expects there to be room for discussion now. How they believe this will be the end and your brother will simply agree and settle for his slap on the wrist. But you know Lo’ak far better than that, so it comes as no surprise to you when he’s shaking his head beside you before Tonowari can even get his final words out fully.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you’re wrong.” 

And there it is: the discrepancy.

It was different, before when he was just telling your young family and friends about his beliefs and they admonished him and brushed him to the side. He wanted to be heard but he settled on being muted for the sake of complacency. He wanted people to listen but was fine with being drowned out. Storming off, ignoring your calls; he did so to put a stake in the matter and leave it dead and hanging.

But now, there’s a glint in his eye. A quiver in his brow. He was fine with being rebuked before, but now?

“ Lo’ak, ” Neytiri jeers at her son. And that unnerves you. “You speak to Olo’eyktan.”

He doesn’t budge. “I know–”

“That’s enough,” Jake cuts in–something he seems to always be so damn good at.

It causes Lo’ak to falter, bite his tongue for just a moment. Tsireya shakes her head at him, telling him to fall back. And you get it, truly, but it’s just so.. Aggravating. 

How can they so blatantly disregard him? How can they muffle his screams of wanting to be heard like a bind around the mouth without a single shred of guilt? Why can they not just listen?

On a last stitch effort to be taken into account, Lo’ak lets go of his tongue. He shrugs his shoulders and puffs out a condescending breath. “I know what I know.”

“That's enough, ” Jake reiterates, crouching down to Lo’ak’s level to give him a stony glare. “I’ll deal with this one,” he converses to Tonowari, before his hand is circling your brother’s bicep and tugging him up and out of the tent.

It leaves you feeling irate, in the most raw form, because this whole situation is just so demoralizing. Anger knows nothing but to simmer or scorch, to bubble or burn, and right now your pot is overflowing. And perhaps your hands have grown clumsy, because instead of pulling it off the burner, you twist the dial to high heat.

“My brother is no liar.” The words leave your mouth before you even think them and you’re rising to your feet. Part of you expects your knees to feel wobbly, buckling, but they do not. “If he says Payakan is no killer, then he isn’t.”

Ronal steps in immediately. “Your brother is ignorant. He knows nothing. Maybe, if he were true of his kind, he would not be so witless.”

Oh, and that? That strikes a nerve in you. Avoiding trouble, remaining quiet and content and compliant to save your family the strife; that all drains out of you now. Like a switch has been flipped. You have had enough.

“He knows more than you will ever– ”

“You watch your tongue,” Neytiri hisses as she yanks you back by the wrist. She does nothing more than send the tsahìk a heated glance before she’s pulling you out of the marui just like Lo’ak had been dragged out before.

She doesn’t even get far before she’s whipping around to fix you with a venomous glare, her grip still not releasing. It must be near bruising now. You strain against it but there is no use; you’d have a better chance breaking free from the claws of a feral mountain banshee than that of Neytiri. You know that and you give in, but it doesn’t mean you’re willing to back down from your credence.

“What are you thinking? ” It’s a question, but she isn’t really asking. “That is the Olo’eyktan. The tsahìk. You show them leioae only. Only. ” [ “respect.” ]

“They did not show it to Lo’ak,” you spit back, and you’re treading some dangerous waters here, truthfully. But why stop paddling if you’ve already lost sight of land? “They did not even listen to what he had to say. That is your son, he wants to be heard–”

“My son speaks foolishly.” There is no hesitation in her deliverance, no pause to think about it. Yet you must admit you can also detect no malice. “And so do you. No thinking before you talk. Disgrace.”

It’s suddenly hard to swallow because her statement is so dense. Her grip feels numbing now but not because it is tight. Disgrace, she says. And it makes you sick how easily it rolls off the tongue. You wonder if she even caught onto what Ronal was inferring in her last statement. If she even realized she was scorning his identity–more specifically one half of it; condemning it. 

If she even cared how that made you feel.

“I–”

“Do not speak.”

Someone has pulled the plug on the oven. Someone has doused water on the stove top. Your simmering has cooled to a misty vapor. Your petulance has been frozen to icy shards. Neytiri tells you not to speak so you sew your mouth shut, let nothing slip past the seam.

“You do nothing like this again.” A decree, an injunction. “Distractions, disrespect. It is too much. One more misstep, and..” She trails off, like she can’t even find the words for the threat she’s about to make past her disappointment. You think it meaningless anyways; you have already heard enough.

“Okay.” You say it to save yourself from whatever she could possibly spit out. “I will do nothing like this again.”

It’s bitter, tart. But then again lies have never tasted too well on your tongue. It does not need to bode well with you, merely just enough to get Neytiri to give in. After a few bated breaths of her staring at you, it seems to do the trick. She releases your wrist (the blood pumping once again) and departs without another word. 

However, you should know better than to get ahead of yourself and think you are off the hook of scolding–because no more than a few seconds after Neytiri is drifting from your sight, her first born is stepping into it. 

“No,” you shake your head, turn on your heel to trudge off in the opposite direction. “Not doing this.”

“Stop,” Neteyam says, announces, and his voice is not sweet. It is not warm and light and reassuring in the way that you adore. It is imposing, lofty. It is the voice of an heir in command. “Do not walk away from me.”

“I am not dealing with you right now, Neteyam.” 

Being lectured once is bad enough. Being lectured twice by a man who holds the same bleeding heart as his mother is a fate worse than death. (Partially an exaggeration, you must admit, but it does not feel like one now).

“I said, stop. ” It’s uncharacteristically harsh; his tone, his diction. You would not call it violent, but perhaps would dip your toe into the pool of aggressive. Not in a way that frightens you, or harms you, but in a way that twinges. In a way that pangs. 

In a way that has you hissing as your tail is yanked back far more forceful than it has ever been before.

“You do not pull my tail,” you shriek, shove at his chest and tug it out of his grasp. Being scolded is one thing. Being disrespected is another. “I have told you already–”

“If you would listen to me, I would not have to,” he fires back, tips his head at you. “How could you say such a thing to the tsahìk? Do you have no regard?”

“ Me? ” You gape, cinch your brows at him. “She is the one with none. They do not care for us. Ronal speaks of Lo’ak like he is a blot in Na’vi existence. How does that deserve any respect from me?”

“It does not matter how she speaks of him,” he dismisses. “She is the chief’s mate. She helped save Kiri. You would not dare speak to Mo’at that way.”

“Your grandmother had enough respect for me that she did not deface my identity.” Hissing at Neteyam is not something you would like to do, but it comes out easily now. He is not getting it, not grasping your standpoint. “I don’t expect you to understand the way I feel, but I ask that you do not dismiss it.”

“You think I don’t understand?” He rags, stares at you incredulously. “I understand very well how it feels to be an outcast. To be a freak. ”

“But you don’t, Neteyam!” 

You’re tipping, losing control of yourself. Arguing solves nothing, confrontation only leads to more, but it has apparently become your theme today. You run your hands down your face. You’re exasperated, fed up. Nobody seems to get it.

“Why do you think you’ve been the one with the least amount of problems since coming here, hm? ” You question him, try not to shy back from the heat buzzing between the two of you. “Do you think Ao’nung backs off when you tell him to just because you’re the oldest? Because he feels some connection to you since you used to be next in line of our clan?”

You’re going too far, you’re being too mean. But you cannot stop now. It’s like you have no control over yourself anymore, like even if you try to lock your jaw to keep the words in they’ll simply crack open your mandible to escape. 

“How come when Lo’ak, Kiri, and I were all being poked and prodded like animals, were you not lumped into that?” It’s vile, how the words translate amongst your tastebuds. But even the tough pills need to be swallowed. “They show you respect because you don’t look like some freak lab experiment. If they were not told, they would not know you were not a full-blooded one of them. They see you as true Na’vi, above the rest of us.”

Neteyam says nothing, simply holds your gaze. You take note of him now; his lack of hairlined brows, his wide set eyes, his thick digits that clench at his sides with one less finger than your own on each hand. It’s a privilege, an exemption. A justifiable right to be a little zealous. 

Yet, guilt sprinkles in, litters itself along the hems of your mind. You resign it with a hello.

“I do not say this to belittle what you go through. And it hurts my heart to know you feel like you do,” you state. Lower, with less edge. Your head drops, your gaze drifts to your feet in the sand beneath you. “It’s just.. Different. Lo’ak does not feel as accepted here as you do. I do not feel as accepted anywhere as Lo’ak.”

The origin of your outburst, the cause of your conniption. It has all boiled down to this. Funny, how the words seemed to flow so easily before when they were full of vexation, but now that they’re coated in vulnerability they string along as stubbornly as molasses. 

“It is hard. Knowing no matter where you go, you never truly belong there.” You’re muttering so quietly you’re not sure if he can even hear you. But maybe if he can’t, maybe if this falls on deaf ears, that is even for the better. “It’s like.. no one ever really views you as a person because they are too busy picking your existence apart. Or even worse, ignoring it. Like no one even sees you, at all.”

You debate laughing it all off as soon as you finish talking. Brushing it away with a shrug of your shoulders and offering up an apology to Neteyam for your harsh words. That’s what would be right to do–what the you before you let yourself become a mess would deem acceptable. You really have made such a muddled up disarray of everything, haven’t you? How foolish of you. Neytiri was right.

Neteyam’s hands raise and you flinch; back to being jumpy, to being resigned. Like trying to scoop up soup with cupped palms–a futile attempt to pretend you never spilt it in the first place when the spices always stick to your fingertips.

You are not sure what you are expecting from him, but his hands reaching for your face isn’t it. They cup your cheeks gently, with great care, as he tips your head back up to meet his gaze. The hostile air from before is gone, the assertive undertone of his grip has vanished to nothing. He cradles your face with such tenderness; like you’re made of glass, like he is scared to break you.

His eyes are searching, analyzing. Or are they? There’s something swirling in them as pink begins to color one side of his face a delicate lilac from the setting sun. Under his scrutiny, you fight the urge to shrivel. Neteyam has always made you comfortable, put you at ease. But lately he has been dangling you over the ledge of.. what?

Your throat bobs with a swallow. Neteyam takes note of it, letting his eyes skirt over your troubled features. His thumb brushes past the apple of your cheek and as it sweeps across your temple it catches the edge of your eyebrow. He doesn’t shy from it, doesn’t pull his hand back in dismay. You aren’t sure why you half expect him to. 

Then, he’s leaning in. Pressing so close you can feel the necklace you made him hit against your chest at the proximity, can feel the middle shell against your sternum. He lifts one hand to turn in front of you, dragging the knuckle of his index finger along the bridge of your nose. Less flat, more humanistic than his own. He gets to the tip then drags his finger back up, skimming across your skin, over the silk of your brow and expanse of your striped forehead before it settles back onto your cheek. Like it’s meant to be there, like it was molded by Eywa herself just for you to slot into.

“ I see you, Ma (Y/n),” he speaks with certainty, conviction. Your breath hitches and your heart lurches within your ribcage. “Oel ngati kameie. Frakrr. ” [ “Always.” ]

And it feels almost inane, frivolous, how you catch yourself reacting. This is not the first time you and Neteyam have said these words to each other, but it feels different, somehow. The days of childish appreciation have gone, become stone walled by adult conflicts and mature contest. Neteyam waits for you, adheres to you, and you find yourself entrapped in his guise. 

You place your hand on top of his, lean into his touch and allow yourself this solace. Your eyes slip shut as he closes in, presses his lips to your forehead before resting his own against it in a show of affection so genuine it nearly causes your stomach to turn.

Apologies will be delivered later–to Neteyam, for diminishing his grievances; to Ronal, for speaking against her even though you still believe yourself to be right–but for now, this is enough. You let yourself indulge in this bit of selfishness, in this sliver of greed. Allowing yourself to be a mess mid-mending for this one portion of your life, in the only hands you trust to put the pieces of you back together.

Like a shattered vase, being cured by its potter. 

#in the sand and in the stars #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #avatar x reader #avatar x you #atwow neteyam #atwow x reader #avatar fanfiction #neteyam sully

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not reacting/cheering for my aunt and her kids?

I (24F) am in an extended family groupchat. I usually do not have time to actually read all the messages, much less to write anything. I often open it and skim through the messages and everyone can see I've read them. Sometimes I do participate if it is a topic I can help with (I can usually help with plant related stuff, and I often jump right into a debate when I catch my aunties falling for facebook lies about ingredients or things like that)

Anyway, at one point my grandmother said that one of my aunts (35ish? I really don't know, sorry) was really sad I was not interacting with her messages at all. And while it wasn't intentional, it was true. I scrolled back to see what I've said to whom, and I never interacted with that aunt. But it wasn't because I did not like her, it was just... I had nothing to respond. I honestly do not care about her family having a trip to the zoo, what she had for lunch and I really did not watch 5 minute videos of her kid (2nd grade) playing football. So I just did not respond, because I had nothing to say and I wasn't interested. Besides, my other aunts interacted plenty with her, so I never thought I should be obligated to respond.

Anyway, I am usually fueled by spite, and my grandmother pointing that thing out had the opposite effect - I stopped interacting with the groupchat at all, even when I did have the time and something to say. I contemplated just leaving the groupchat, but I was tagged specifically one day to respond to something, so I stayed and tried to be nicer, just by leaving emoji's to that aunt's messages. However, life is life, and my efforts soon were forgotten because I just... don't have the energy.

However, one day, my aunt posted a facebook link to a post from a geography competition. And I was pretty sure my cousin (her son) won something, and I even opened the link, but there was a long list of kids and I just didn't bother to find my cousin's name there, so I, once again, did not react.

A day later my grandmother sent me the same facebook link and said my aunt would be happy if I reacted to the message in the groupchat. Which I think is ridiculous? Especially because the kid isn't even in the groupchat, and only his mother would see it? Anyway, I kind of got in a fight with my grandma about that, saying no one ever praised me as a kid for winning competitions, especially the same aunt who now feels bad for me not cheering her and her son on. So, I did not react to the message and once again went mostly silent in the groupchat.

But overall, I feel like I am the asshole for not being interested in the lives of my relatives and their kids. It really is not that hard to engage in groupchat conversations, right? However, I don't really want to act like I am interested, while I am not at all. Maybe I am cold hearted for not caring about their holiday trips, work/school events and minor health problems (eg someone having a fever).

However, to defend myself, I was actually very busy during the described events. I worked and studied full time (it is hell don't do it) (graduating soon though yeehaw), and most messages I read while walking from one point to another, skimmed through in the evenings before bed or when I was waiting in a queue for something. Moreover, the said aunt never has expressed any interest in my life, so I did not feel any obligation to be interested in her life. However, I never also said to anyone how I was doing, and no one really knew I was dying from exhaustion most of the time, so they probably assumed I was just... specifically being a dick.

So was I? Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[turtletimewriting]

Rise tmnt tickle headcanons: re-do

Okay time to re-do. I know a lot of this is the same but I recently reread my headcanons and it was all just weird. So here we go!

Most ticklish is hands down Leo. The others are pretty equal or hard to determine. But everyone enjoys destroying Leo. Mikey enjoys taking down a big brother. Donnie likes taking him down a peg. Raph enjoys destroying a baby brother.

Mikey’s tickle spots: shell, underarms and palm of his hand. Mikey has the weird tickle spots. They discovered very late in life that the top of his shell is very ticklish. Everyone loves tracing around his markings. 

Raph’s ticklish spots: under his chin, back of knees and sides. Under his chin is such such such a ticklish spot. Drives him nuts instantly. Problem is it’s such an awkward spot to get to so everyone loves randomly attacking there when Raph tries to get all big brother and carries them.

Leo’s tickle spots: legs. Like the whole bottom half of him. Thighs are a killer, knees, tracing along his calf is a big spot. Similar to Raph, those spots are difficult to get to considering he’ll just kick frantically. But they all know to pin him down quick.

Donnie’s tickle spots: upper body. Him and Leo create a yin and yang. His arms, his stomach, under his chin. 

Mikey laugh is nuts. Like a keysmash come to life. He rambles frantically when tickled and cackles and snorts. He’s the sort who makes the most wild insane noises. He sounds like he’s dying. He cannot be normal when being tickled.

Raph’s laugh is either quiet muffled giggling or echoing booming laughter. There’s no inbetween. 

Leo’s laugh is (kinda boring, I know) is exactly in the tickle scene in the series. Loud cackles with the occasional begging.

Donnie’s laugh is a cackle. You can pry this from my cold dead hands. He has a fantastic cackle. Throw your head back clear loud ha ha ha ha. 

Mikey as a tickler is ruthless and immediately going for the kill. He knows that the tables can easily turn and his personas Dr Delicate Touch and Dr Feelings means he goes directly. If he’s tickling you then the fight is already over.

Like Mikey was once able to tickle Raph’s chin so much from when he was being carried that he made him actually fall over. Raph kept trying to tip back but there was no way that Mikey was going for the kill and never let up.

Raph as a tickler is teasy as hell. These are his baby brothers acting cute and helpless and he’s so much bigger and stronger. You bet he’s going gentle and teasing non stop. 

The one time Raph tickled a brother to tears was when he was giving Leo a piggy back ride and used his claws to gently trace up and down Leo’s calves for like ten straight minutes.

Leo as a tickler is like a golden retriever going nuts. He’s throwing his full body weight and attacking frantically. He gets in your face and is also rambling constantly. He’s not as effective as Raph at teasing but he can still humiliate his victim.

Leo truly resembled demon possession when he had his sights on someone. Clinging upside down to Raph’s back as he frantically scribbled down his entire sides. From under his arms to the bottom of his shell. 

Donnie as a tickler is only ever to prove a point. To bring Leo down a peg, to get Mikey to stop being a nuisance, to get Raph to stop mother henning. It’s always a snapping point. If he says he’s going to tickle you then that’s the queue to run. 

Donnie was sat down calmly and holding Leo’s leg like it was guitar and just going nuts across the back of his knee. “Well? Are you gonna apologise? I’m waiting.”

I said previously that Donnie really really likes tickling other people when he’s frustrated with a project or feeling restless. (May or may not be based on me) but he finds himself doing the tickling motion if he’s thinking. Pulling Mikey or Leo to tickle until he reaches a breakthrough. Mikey can last longer while Leo can’t take much but is funner to tickle.

Splinter definitely went through a phase of tickling his sons with his tail under the tail and watching them blame each other.

...

Bonus apolocalypse:

Future Leo definitely had a whole gimmick where he pretends his prosthetic is malfunctioning and cannot stop tickling. It used to drive baby Casey Jones nuts. Until the day Donnie used his mystic powers to make it actually malfunction and make his own arm tickle himself.

#rottmnt #tickling #tickle headcanons #lee leo #lee raph #lee donnie #lee mikey #ler leo #ler donnie #ler raph #ler mikey

[citrus-cactus]

For the character ask game - Haru (appmon) 1, 2, 11, 12, 23!

HAAAAAAAARU! THANK YOUUUUU~! <3

The character ask game is here!

1. My first impression of them

Honestly my first impression (from seeing promo images and such posted on this very website!) was something like “Whoa. Clashing colors much?!” So I guess you could say it was not the best 😂

Obviously I got over that, but I did learn recently that trying to apply his color scheme to any other character is still quite a shock! ROTFL Click for proof if you dare!

The rest is cut! For! Spoilers!!!

2. When I think I truly started to like them (or dislike them, if you've sent me a character I don't like)

The first time I watched Appmon, I felt like basically the whole first half of the series was a bit of a crapshoot, quality-wise (not in terms of the animation or anything, but how I felt about it). Like, if you tried to graph my enjoyment of each episode right after I watched it, it would look like a jagged mountain range. The first episode was ok, the second episode was “eh,” the third and fourth episodes was pretty good, the fifth was back to “eh,” etc. I don’t know, pacing and tone and kind of unsympathetic character introductions and it just being “different” were all things that were working against it at that point in my mind, and made me wonder what the writers were really trying to do (honestly, what REALLY sold me on watching Appmon at all was @firstagent’s pitch at a con, which explicitly plugged Offmon and Yuujin’s dynamic!).

(I should say here that despite those rough beginnings, Appmon is probably my favorite Digimon series now, so yeah I take time to warm up to things sometimes but the right combination of factors makes me fall and fall HARD)

All that said, I know exactly when I really start to like Haru, and it was during the third episode (the dungeon one with Roleplaymon). He’s just so excited and happy throughout, while also being a complete nerd, and instead of a big Appmon fight at the end (well, being unable to have one due to an evolution whoopsie), he just talks to Roleplaymon… and it works. That felt kind of revolutionary, and it was the episode that I started to not only understand his character, but (maybe) gain a bigger picture view of the series and what the show was going for. This episode just crystallized a lot of things for me.

Me after episode 3: Haru is kind. Oh, and also he’s my son now, I want to see him grow up strong, I WILL keep watching FOR HIM actually (best decision ever!!) 💖

11. What’s the first thing you think about when thinking about the character?

Joke answer: “Do I need to be working on the blog queue right now, or can I procrastinate a few more days?” 🤔

Real answer: No thoughts anymore, just feelings (rotfl). After watching every episode in order to look at every single shot of Haru and find the very best frames, I can still say definitively that he’s so cute and I love him and all Harus are good Harus 🥺🥺🥺

12. Sexuality hc!

Bisexual! And uh… one specific android-sexual? You cannot deny his crush on Ai, and Haru/Yuujin is so good. They’re one of my OTPs, they’re soulmates (by some definition of the word “soul”), they were made for (and made by) each other, they’re actually making eyes at each other from across the room in my head right now 🤫

23. Future headcanon

Oh, he’s definitely going to be an AI researcher, that much I believe! One who is very literature- and ethics-minded, and thinks a lot about what what “existence” means, and is hyper-aware of beings’ rights and the need to advocate for both humans AND AI, in a world where both appmon and general artificial intelligences actually exist. These beliefs are the cornerstone of his work, regardless of what he actually does with AI. Would he follow in his Grandpa’s footsteps in being an academic designing his own? Maybe borrow a page from Koushiro Izumi’s book and start a company? Or go the Susan Calvin route and become an AI psychologist? Any! All! Idk 🤣

Honestly, so much else about specific future headcanons depends on how you interpret the very last moments of the series (literal or symbolic), and for me it could go either way. I really like interpreting it as literal, if only because it’s such a great hook into the nebulous Appmon Season 2 that exists in my head. Yuujin’s back, but how? Cue mystery and more Appmon shenanigans.

Regardless, I’m most interested in the future where Yuujin comes back in some form at some point during Haru’s lifetime, and no matter how, when, or why that happens it’s going to be a joyous occasion, but also a bit of a rough transition. Yuujin may have changed. Haru may have changed. There would be a LOT anxiety about “is this ok?” and “how do you feel?” and “what does it MEAN that this is how you feel?” and “what does ANY of this mean for us as individuals, and us together?” because it’s all very complicated when you bring the android that was programmed to be your best friend and your ideal version of a person back to life. Is there even a happy ending out there for them? Again, for me it could go either way.

So yeah, a bit rambly, because to me there is no one answer I could ever 100% decide on. They’re all possible. And that’s kind of the great thing about the vagueness of the ending! I will say I like drawing them in happy-ending mode best though, even though I would probably write their future in a way that involves more drama, because it’s way more interesting, and nothing in life is ever that easy (I’m rooting for them though!).

Again, thanks so much for the ask!!

#asks #julbilines #appmon #appli monsters #appmon spoilers #haru shinkai #green-haired cutie pie #<- my original tag for him hehehe #the cactus runs a sideblog

[endless-oc-creations]

For the Ship Ask Game - Dealers choice for whichever ship is speaking the loudest to you from your horror group.

The ship ask in question

Ahhh!!! Thank you for asking! I'm gonna take this opportunity to talk about my ship obsession, the loves of my life, Daryl and Eve.

Who made the first move: Eve did, of course, I feel like Daryl is more reclusive about his feelings or at least hides it.

Who kissed who first: Eve kissed Daryl first, it was after they started to settle down at the prison in Season 3.

Who started the relationship: Eve basically did. She fell in love with Daryl after all they'd been through on the farm and on their way to the prison.

Who remembers things: Eve

Nicknames for each other: Dumbass(Affectionately- Eve to Daryl) Babe (Daryl to Eve) Pookie(Eve to Daryl but it's mainly to annoy him with it)

Who is more likely to pay for dinner: Well, with it being the apocalypse, no one pays or goes out to dinner anymore. But, Daryl is the one who mainly hunts for their food if that also counts.

Who normally cooks: Daryl usually cooks what he's hunted for them while they are on the road traveling, but in their 'home', Eve prepares the meals for them.

Who remembers anniversaries: Time sorts of blends together during the apocalypse so it is hard to keep track or celebrate anniversaries if you have gotten together during that time In my opinion, so neither of them.

What would they get each other for gifts: Eve would gift Daryl hunting knives. In fact, she would end up gifting him a custom one that has engraved both her and their son's name on it. When Daryl is out scavenging he looks for books Eve's talked about loving in the past, or just gifting her books in general.

The most trivial thing they fight over:  Daryl not wanting to take a bath after coming 'home' from being out in the woods or scavenging.

How often do they fight: Oh god they fought so much from Season 1 until Season 5. Now it's off and on, like 'normal couples'.

Who uses all the hot water: If they ever get an opportunity, Eve, but she also ends up pulling Daryl in with her so they can enjoy it together.

Who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working:  Zombie Apocalypse doesn't deal with landlords anymore. But if their 'home' is being threatened, or they need supplies or firewood, Daryl is the one who handles it.

Who leaves their stuff around: Daryl...Eve can't count how many times she has tripped over his boots or hunting gear.

Who remembers to buy the milk: Daryl does the supply runs.

Who controls the Netflix queue: There's no Netflix.

Who steals the covers at night: Eve, definitely.

Who cusses more: Definitely Daryl LOL!

Who does most of the cleaning: Eve does.

What’s their favorite non-sexual activity: Star gazing on a blanket together.

Who’s the cuddler: Eve, when they are finally alone together, she likes to soak up those moments as much as she can.

Who’s the big spoon/little spoon: Daryl is the big spoon and Eve is the little spoon.

Who’s more dominant: Everyone thinks it's Daryl, but it's Eve lol.

Who is the dirty talker: Daryl

What do they do when they’re away from each other: Daryl is usually hunting or on a supply run while Eve stays at their camp or 'home' taking care of people as their doctor.

What would they do if the other one was hurt: Daryl would be a panicked wreck, if anyone hurt Eve he would let his emotions get the best of him and attempt to go after them. Meanwhile, Eve would be frantic on the inside but on the outside, she would stay composed and in doctor mode to treat Daryl's injuries.

A headcanon: After the both of them are held captive by Negan, Eve is hardly able to fall asleep if Daryl isn't by her side. If he isn't she sometimes wakes up in a panic wondering if Daryl is still being tortured.

#mimi answers #asks answered #ships asks answered #Everleigh Horvath #oc: Everleigh Horvath #OTP: I Love You So{Eve x Daryl} #fandom: twd #fandom: the walking dead #the walking dead #twd #ch: daryl dixon #daryl dixon #twd ocs #the walking dead ocs #twd oc

[fluffy-critter]

#crosspost #busybee

[let-me-write-shit]

Hey! Idk if u r taking requests hint if you are, can u do one where harry+y/n+bby paxton are out and about but all the sudden get swarmed by paps and then one of the cameras accidentally hit the baby and the clip goes viral and celebs and ex-1D members and stans all start coming to the defense and share stories about how awful the paps are? U don’t have to haha

A/N: Thank you so much, @gwen-and-harry, for this request! I’m sorry it took so long! Hope this is alright!

Word Count: 5,227

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

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Friendly reminder to please like and/or reblog. It helps more than you think :)

---------------------------------------

Paparazzi

The outpour of love and well-wishes after the announcement of the birth of their firstborn son was touching and comforting. Harry and Y/N were lucky to be surrounded by so many wonderful people. Still, the eagerness of the public to get the first glimpse of the newborn and the new parents began to grow. No one had seen the couple out since before their son was born and Paxton was nearly three months old, now. People were becoming desperate.

There were more and more fans outside of their house as the days passed. Y/N and Harry had people running errands for them and luckily had the help of friends and family, as well, who would stick around for a few days at a time to give them little breaks and were more than happy to get some time with the happy baby. But as the sun stayed out longer and the temperature began to rise, the new family felt the yearning for a nice summer holiday.

They’d planned it for weeks, excited to take pictures and videos of Paxton’s first time at the beach. Harry had found a perfect house with a private beach off the coast of Italy and even decided to bring along security. And even though he didn’t do it often, he thought the circumstances warranted renting a private plane to take them to the beautiful country.

Harry and Y/N were very cautious in showing any images of their baby. No one, aside from close friends and family, even knew of his name. Having been the victims of stalking, they didn’t want their son to be subjected to that and tried everything in their power to protect their child. There were brief moments when it was typical for it to be vacant outside their home, so they planned their escape down to the minute; bags loaded in the car from the night before, and two security guards standing by to rush them to the car.

Paxton was already buckled into his infant car seat and kicking along, happily, as Y/N cooed at him, dangling toys and pinching his chubby legs while Harry peered out of the window, waiting until the coast was clear. She noticed her husband straighten up more just before the security guard said, “Let’s go.”

Harry hoisted the brown leather diaper bag further up his shoulders and tossed a muslin blanket over the top of the car seat to cover Paxton, just in case anyone happened to see them. He took hold of the car seat and carried his baby out to the car as swiftly as he could while Y/N followed closely behind him. It took two minutes for everyone to get settled in and pull out of the driveway before they felt like they could breathe a sigh of relief.

Y/N and Harry shared a look of burden. The lengths they had to take just to keep a bit of privacy and normalcy was insane. And still, they weren’t out of the woods yet. Although they were flying privately, they still needed to drive to the main airport where their plane would depart from a strip off to the side. Everything seemed to be alright, so far. Usually, Harry could tell if it were going to be crazy if there were cars of fans chasing them, and that was not the case, so he let his guard down.

But, as they approached the backup in the car queue through the airport terminals, they slowly came to realize that this wasn’t going to be as easy as they anticipated. They were at a standstill for over ten minutes, unmoving, with cars honking loudly around them. It seemed that there was roadwork on a few of the lanes ahead that caused a jam. Quickly, they had to make a decision that they didn’t miss check-in with their pilot.

After much deliberation, they decided that the only solution would be that Harry, Y/N, and their baby would have to walk down the strip accompanied by one of the security guards while the other security guard continued with the car and would eventually meet them at the plane with all of their luggage. Y/N couldn’t stay stuck in traffic, her claustrophobia was already starting to make her panic. The fresh air would do them all some good, and besides, there weren’t an overwhelming amount of people walking along outside. Most people were in a rush to get in. They thought they’d be able to handle it.

Poor Paxton was fast asleep, but it was a pretty far distance to be lugging a heavy car seat while trying to walk as quickly and discreetly as possible down the sidewalk to reach the end where their terminal would be. At least by carrying him, if someone did recognize them, they’d be able to shield their son better.

Gently, Harry unfastened the buckles from Paxton’s car seat and slipped him out, passing him over to Y/N without waking him. It was warm out, but Y/N made sure to wrap Paxton loosely in the thin muslin cloth and cover his face enough so that he could breathe well against her chest, but his face couldn’t be seen. The couple made sure to wear their sunglasses and Harry took hold of the leather diaper bag before the security guard jumped out and opened the door for them.

Quickly, they started making their way down the sidewalk, heads down to not call attention to themselves, and following their security guard’s strides who was barely a step ahead of them. Horns blared and echoed around them, stuffy fumes from car engines congested the area. For a moment, Harry thought they might actually get through unrecognized. But that quickly came to prove wrong.

It always started as just a feeling of being watched before turning into a slightly louder buzzing as people, wondering if it was really him, began to mutter. This then turned into a few shouts and calls. He ignored the first few calls until he realized that too many people started to notice. He turned, smiled, and waved at them as he continued. This usually satisfied fans enough to not follow him. But then he saw it. The cluster of cameras. Paparazzi.

They looked shocked to see him, at first. He guessed they were likely here for someone else at first and he was just a bonus. Just his luck. The security guard tightened his gap and Y/N felt a hand on the middle of her back as Harry protectively pushed her along so they could keep moving faster. Still, they were already halfway there and it wasn’t more than they were used to.

However, more people became increasingly aware that not only was Harry Styles there, but also his wife and newborn baby. Harry always had a good relationship with the paparazzi, but the incitement to get the first look at their son was causing them to swarm the new parents.

“Harry, how does it feel to be a dad?”

“What’s your son’s name?”

“Where are you headed?”

“Harry, does he look just like you?”

“Can we see?”

The questions were never-ending and almost too hard to hear as everyone talked at once. Surrounded by not only paparazzi but also curious fans, it became harder to move. Their security guard did his best to keep everyone at bay and to keep moving forward, but it soon became too crowded to move. Y/N held her baby closer to her chest as he began to wriggle and squirm from all the noise, sharing a brief look of concern with Harry who tried his best to remain calm and friendly while also trying to make way for his family out of the ring of paps that surrounded them who became more aggressive with their questions, closing in on them.

Cameras started bumping together, voices became louder, and the paparazzi began to shove each other, fighting to get closer to the celeb. Some fans began to notice how reckless they were becoming and started to yell at paparazzi along with the security guard who was still trying to push through to make room for them, only inching their way forward now.

“Back up, they have a baby!” a few girls screams were muffled behind the shouts of the paps.

Paxton was wiggling more now and started to whimper as Y/N and her husband were being yelled at in all directions. Y/N could feel paps nudging her back, getting too close for comfort. When the security guard noticed, he’d yell at them, but there wasn’t much he could do. He was only one person against dozens of others. Her claustrophobia was in full swing and her heart began racing, breath becoming more of a pant. She felt a tug on her shirt followed by a deep voice beckoning, “Come on, let us get a look at the happy family.” They had gotten bolder in touching her purposefully.

Y/N spun around, “Please don’t touch me,” she yelped.

Lights started to flash in her face and she felt a hand tug at the muslin cloth that was protecting her son. Instinctively she swatted at the hand and pulled her son in tighter, shouting, “Don’t touch him!”

Harry turned, protectively shielding his wife and son, urging her in front of him, fans still yelling as another pap shoved his camera in between them so hard that he managed to whack the top of Paxton’s head with his flash attachment, causing the baby to flail and burst into wails, sobbing into Y/N’s chest at an ear-piercing level.

Before Y/N of the security guard could even react, Harry leaped at the pap, shoving him backward, and began screaming at him so ferociously that it created a momentary standstill. No one had ever seen Harry so angry before.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, eh?! That’s my baby, you fuckin’ dickhead!” Harry’s accent became thick with rage, shoving the startled man’s chest which made him back away.

“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t do anything!” the pap could be heard saying, shrinking away.

A few other paparazzi were taking the side of the pap and snapping pictures and videos of the incident while most yelled along with Harry as well as fans. Harry kept at him, screaming even louder and angrier, “You smashed my sons head with your fuckin’ piece of shit camera,” he yanked the camera out of the pap’s hands and chucked it to the ground, a few pieces breaking off and sliding every which way, continuing to shove the pap back while the security guard tried his hardest to contain the situation and get people to back off.

“Harry! Please!” Y/N cried, her heart pounding in panic and on the verge of tears.

Harry was seething, glaring at the pap who had backed away, nervously, before the awareness that Harry was surrounded by people, most with their phones out, started to sink in. The crowd had given them some more space now, and he looked back to see the concern on his wife’s face as she bounced and patted the back of their crying son in her arms in an attempt to console him.

With one last scowl at the offender, Harry hissed, “Don’t come near my family again.”

He picked up the brown leather diaper bag off of the ground; he must have dropped it during his fit. Hiking it back up his shoulders, he wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist as the security guard led them away from the crowd, fans calling their support after them and continuing to yell at the paparazzi.

The rest of the walk was silent, still too rattled by the situation to find the words to say. By the time they reached and boarded the plane, Paxton had fallen back asleep and it didn’t take long for their other security guard to reach them.Should have just stayed in the car, Y/N thought, getting settled in a seat with her son, She loosened the muslin blanket around his face, but not too much to disturb his sleep. Harry stayed towards the front of the plane, barely out of earshot, to talk to the security after their belongings were loaded.

A few minutes in, Harry could be heard raising his voice at them, angry about how the situation was handled. Y/N winced, trying not to listen in as she kept her attention down at her son who was suckling on the inside of his cheeks as he slept. It was almost time to feed him, but Harry still had the diaper bag. She felt bad for the security, there wasn’t much they could do, and she knew Harry was only yelling because he was upset that his son was in danger. It wasn’t like Harry to take things out on other people, but he had become increasingly protective since becoming a dad.

Moments later, Harry and the two security guards made their way back, and although Harry still looked tense, Y/N could tell that they had talked things out and was willing to bet that Harry apologized to them, too. It still didn’t make her husband any less angry. He plopped in the seat beside his wife with an exaggerated sigh and leaned over to get a good look at his sin, gently pushing the muslin cloth away as he ran his hand over the baby’s soft, fuzzy head. A splotch of raised red skin could be seen forming from where the camera had hit him.

Y/N snapped her attention to her husband and saw the distress stretch across his face and with an overwhelmed frown he said, “I better take a picture of this. Just in case,” and he pulled his phone out from his pocket.

She knew what he meant. Just in case that pap wanted to press charges for destruction of property or assault. If he did decide to press charges, there’s no way he would win. There’s more than enough photographic and video evidence of the assault on their baby. But over the years they had learned that they could never be too careful.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, and the pilot and flight attendant introduced themselves, checked ID, and went over safety procedures before the plane started down the runway. Harry stared down at his son the entire time, not letting go of his tiny hand that was wrapped around his middle finger. Y/N knew how worried he was feeling, and with an understanding smile, she carefully passed him their baby.

She grinned as Harry shushed him back to sleep when he began stirring, stroking his cheeks in total adoration of the little boy he held in his arms. His heart ached as he caressed the red splotch at the crown of the baby’s head, angry that grown adults would act in such a way, especially in the presence of a child.

“Do you think we should get a doctor to look at him?” he asked as their plane ascended.

Y/N nodded her head, “I think he’s fine but better safe than sorry. We’ll take care of it tomorrow. I think we all need to relax when we get there. It’s been a long morning.”

It wasn’t a long flight to Italy, but it wasn’t calming, either. Y/N fed Paxton while Harry fretted about the flurry of texts and missed calls he was bound to have by his managers, PR, and legal team, certain that videos and pictures will have been released by then. And just like he predicted, they landed to nearly thirty missed messages of all sorts, including links to articles titled, ‘Harry Styles Attacks Paparazzi Outside of London Airport’. They couldn’t bring themselves to open or read any of it, but Harry did spend a majority of their nearly thirty-minute car journey on a conference call with his team talking about the situation and discussing ways with which they could handle it.

Harry cut in after a while, saying, “Alright, listen. I’ve got to go. I’m supposed to be on holiday with my family. Can someone please make an appointment with a doctor out here to look at my son tomorrow and text me the details? We’ll talk about this another time.”

Harry wasn’t assertive a lot, but when he was, it always turned Y/N on. She kissed his cheek with a grin as he hung up the phone and squeezed his hand. His mom and sister were one of the many who had texted them after seeing the news and they made a quick FaceTime call to them, venting about the encounter and reassuring them that Paxton was fine, showing them the sweet baby’s face when they finally pulled up to the vacation rental and ended the call.

It was just after noon when they arrived at the house, and instead of unpacking, everyone left their luggage by the front door and took the food they had picked up from a drive-thru on the patio by the pool where they overlooked a beautiful, private beach lined with white sand and water the most beautiful shade of blue. Harry bounced a cooing baby on his lap while they ate. The couple silenced their phones, trying their hardest to avoid the onslaught of calls and messages they were bound to receive.

After lunch, everyone finally put their things away, got changed into their bathing suits, and headed to the pool for their first swim of the year. For just a few hours the coupe was able to forget about the inevitable problem they were facing and enjoyed their time together as a family.

Paxton seemed to enjoy the water once he warmed up to it, screeching joyfully and splashing at the surface while mummy and daddy took turns holding him and pushing him in the inflatable raft they brought. They laughed at the baby boy’s reaction to getting water droplets on his face and all the noises that escaped his tiny lips.

They stayed in the pool until nightfall when they wrapped themselves in towels and sat around the fire pit to keep warm while one of the security guards left to pick up dinner for everyone. Normally, Harry would feel bad for having someone else get him food, but given the circumstances, he felt it was for the best.

He looked over at his wife, her eyes red and irritated from the chlorine, and the high points of her face sunkissed from the warm, Italian sun. Her hair was slicked back, though that didn’t stop Paxton from getting a hold of a chunk of her hair and tugging as she fed him. Harry’s smile started to face into a frown when he noticed the red splotch on the crown of his son’s head was not tinged a blue-ish purple. It had started to bruise.

Y/N noticed her husband’s silence, and with an understanding and reassuring squeeze to his hand, she softly said, “He’s okay, Bub. Just a little sore when you touch it, but still a happy boy.”

“I know,” he nodded, “Still pisses me off that it even happened, though. I should go see if anyone was able to make an appointment for him, yet.”

He ambled off inside to find his phone that he left on the nightstand, ignoring all of his notifications and going right to his assistant’s texts to see the information of the doctor that was kind enough to agree to come to them tomorrow morning and take a look at Paxton. He did a quick background search on the doctor, pleased to find that she had come highly trained and recommended, and he sighed a breath of relief.

He then decided to take a look at some of these notifications, a little worried about the backlash he might have received. But, he was surprised to see the response of support and even shocked by some of the names that had reached out to him or spoke up about the fight.

The first people he noticed were his mom and sister who both made and shared an Instagram text post that read, ‘There is a lot that you have to deal with and compromise on when you have a fanbase or a following, and one of those things is privacy. It’s something so many of us take for granted, and so far, Harry and his lovely wife have taken it in stride, rarely complaining. They’re aware, just like the rest of us, that being a ‘celebrity’ and the lack of privacy in his line of work is an unfortunate given. However, when the safety and privacy of a newborn child are at risk, this type of behavior can become extremely dangerous. There is a time and place for paparazzi, and hurting a child to get a few snapshots is deplorable. Change needs to happen’. In the caption of the photo, there was a petition link that called for adjustments on laws when it came to paparazzi and children.

A lump formed in Harry’s throat as he read, reliving the moment his son had gotten hurt a mere few hours ago. There was so much running through his head. He felt like an idiot for losing his temper, he should have known not to lash out like that, especially when there were so many cameras out. He was pissed that the paparazzi put him in a situation where he felt like lashing out was his only option. He was upset that he couldn’t enjoy their first vacation as a family with their new baby because he was too worried that people might spot him. He was scared for the future of his son, worried that he’d have to look over his shoulder every step of the way to make sure his son could have even just a shot at living a semi-normal life. And he was grateful for the support of his family and for them speaking out and trying to invoke change.

As he scrolled through his notifications more, he saw that Lizzo had also posted a video to Instagram and tagged him in it. He played the video and chuckled, feeling comforted, when her face popped on the screen, shouting, “If y'all don’t leave my baby daddy, Harry, and my sister-wife, Y/N, alone! They had a baby with them! Like this child is basically straight out the womb, and y’all sick motherfuckers are out here grabbin’ on ‘em just to try and take a picture?! A picture?!” she looked disgusted as she shook her head, “These paparazzi are getting bolder every day. This shit needs to stop. I need each and every one of you to click the link on my bio. Things need to change. Yesterday.”

He went to her page and saw the same link that Gemma and his mom had posted to their story. And that wasn’t all. As he continued to go through his notifications, he saw that he had been tagged onto one of Niall’s tweets a ton. He opened the link to see what Niall had written.

‘Absolutely disgusted to see what happened to my friend @Harry_Styles, his lovely wife @Y/N, and their little lad today. Truly criminal that these paparazzi can do things like this with little to no repercussion. I’m so sorry the two of ya had to go through that. Absolutely fuming for ya.’

With a tight-lipped grin, Harry nodded and made a mental note to text Niall later and thank him. For now, he pocketed his phone and rejoined his wife outside who had just finished feeding Paxton and putting him in a portable rocker beside her to nap, her feet propped up by the edge of the fire, wiggling her toes in the warmth. He kissed her forehead before taking his seat on the other side of her, informing her of the response, so far, of the day’s events.

Throughout the week, more and more people had started to speak up. The doctor had come around to take a once-over of Baby Styles, deeming him healthy, just bruised, and leaving them to enjoy their vacation, utterly astonished by the number of people who had spoken out to condemn the paparazzi and share their experience.

Louis had called him shortly after the doctor had left while they were on the beach. Paxton was screeching on his tummy, holding his head up and beating his chubby fists into the sand. Harry watched his wife smiling and clacking at her baby, completely smitten by the two of them, as he and Louis caught up. The last time they talked was when Louis congratulated them on the birth of his son. This time, Louis called to make sure they were doing alright. Harry was still trending online and, being a father himself, he knew how upsetting it was when your kid was brought up in the media. Especially when they had to deal with the repercussions of the paparazzi.

“Man, it just blows my mind the shit these low-lives can get away with. Please tell me you’re gonna press charges, mate,” Louis seared.

Harry groaned, “I don’t think I can, mate. I broke his camera and shoved him. We’re pretty much even.”

“Even?” Louis repeated, “Mate, he hurt a baby. He’s done much worse than you did!”

“Not according to the law, man. Not really. Besides, he’s fine. Just a bruise, thank God. Was more worried about, Y/N, if I’m honest,” he whispered, trying not to let his wife hear, “You should have seen her. Thought she was going to have a panic attack because of her claustrophobia.”

Louis tutted and sighed, “Poor lass. She's alright now, though, yeah?”

“We’re on the beach, so she couldn’t be happier,” Harry laughed, watching as Paxton gazed in awe at the little sandcastle Y/N had just made.

They had received texts from friends, like Mitch and Sarah, who made sure that they and the baby were alright as well as posted a link to the petition. Big-name celebrities with kids, like Chrissy Teigen and John Legend, as well as Hilary Duff and Matthew Koma, had also come forward in light of the issue to share their experiences of being paparazzi’d with kids. He’d never had the pleasure of meeting them, but was sure to send them messages of thanks.

Ariana Grande had tweeted ‘Sending my love to the Styles Family. It’s scary when you can’t walk down the street with a newborn without being harassed. Please sign the petition to finally start holding those who cross the line accountable.’

Liam Payne texted Harry and mentioned it in one of his Instagram Live videos when asked by fans saying, “Yeah, I spoke to him. Apparently, the guy had bruised the poor baby’s head, but he’s doing alright. They’re a bit shaken by the whole thing, I don’t blame them. It’s-It’s just sad, you know? For all the years I’ve known Harry, he’s the last one to get rattled to the point of fighting someone I’ve met Y/N a few times and well and she was always kind and easy-going. But when you’re worried about the safety of your wife and child, I don’t think anyone could say they’d just sit back and take it. You’ve got to draw the line somewhere.”

James Corden dedicated a segment in his show talking about the dangers of paparazzi and his own experiences with being harassed, including the time he was out with his son, and Harry joined them.

“To see, very early on in his career, the amount of people that followed his every step- I mean, he was only with us for a couple of hours and it got so crazy that after thirty minutes I had to have Harry walk a bit ahead of us so that the paparazzi wouldn’t swarm my son. By the end of the day, we were exhausted. I can’t even imagine having to deal with that daily. I know how I felt about it at the time and my son was older. We were a bit more comfortable as parents. But these two have their first, brand new baby. The idea of leaving your house for the first time as new parents and being hounded by volatile people who have no care for anyone but themselves is terrifying. My heart goes out to him and his family,” he finished.

Dozens more came out of the gate to condemn careless paparazzi, but probably the most surprising of them all was Gigi Hadid.

It was no secret that Harry and the model had a strained relationship that dated back to the drama surrounding Zayn’s departure from One Direction. The two never really cared to get to know one another and there was always some unsaid animosity in between them for whatever reason. He never had anything against her. Still, it was there. So, when she spoke out in defense of Harry’s actions, it was in headlines everywhere.

Gigi was very vocal about it on all of her social media platforms, writing rants on Twitter, text posts on Instagram, and even making videos saying, “You know, it’s just disgusting how celebrities can be stalked and harassed every single day by people like these paparazzi and the response is always ‘well, that’s what you signed up for’. It never made sense to me. Like, why is it considered normal? Why does it have to ‘come with the territory?’ These celebrities didn’t sign up to have their lives picked through with a fine-tooth comb. Especially not their spouses or children. They don’t deserve to be harassed or stalked just because of who they fell in love with or made a family with. A lot of people forget that celebrities are just humans.

We’re normal people with abnormal jobs. My job is to model. Harry’s job is to sing. We shouldn’t be in fear to step out of our house that day, afraid of being stalked or our children being hit in the heads with fucking cameras. I’m no stranger to how dangerous and scary paps can be, and since becoming a mom myself, I’m even more cautious. We hardly leave our house. We have so much security it’s unreal. We shouldn’t have to live like this.

Having fans come up to us in the streets and saying hi or taking pictures with us is one thing, but to have these paps shoving their camera in a child’s face, blocking our way out, and endangering them is something else entirely. Paparazzi need to be held to a higher standard and they need to be held accountable. I really feel for them.”

By the end of their vacation, there was so much positive support from fans and other celebs that Harry and Y/N was feeling overwhelmed with love. They both reached out, personally and privately, to as many people as they could to thank them for speaking out and signing the petition. Their team decided that a simple response, in true Harry fashion, would be best. On Instagram, he posted a picture of Paxton’s sandy feet and captioned it,

‘All Is Well. Thank you. With Love, H.’

------------------------------------

Taglist:

@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans @gwen-and-harry

#Harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles fan fic #one direction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #one direction fanfic #harry styles one shot #one direction fan fic #one direction smut #harry #harry styles blurb #smut #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #one direction fan fiction #1d #harry styles angst #one direction fluff #fluff #liam payne

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report vii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: FINALLY~ we get to see a little bit of JK’s pov heh 

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii​ @zeharilisharaban​ @btsbunny07​ @turquoiseandplaidinautumn  @aamxxrii @codeinebelle ​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

“I hope you don’t mind us picking up a friend first then a drive thru afterwards... we did promise  someone a ride to the ceremony as well.” Chohee eyes Jungkook through the rear-view mirror. “Plus, we haven’t had any breakfast yet sooo…” Your new passenger uncharacteristically nods with unbridled enthusiasm. Huh.

“Totally not an issue at all. If you don’t mind, breakfast is on me,” he announces, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. You raise a freshly threaded eyebrow. There is no way this kid is actually offering to pay for your food. Jungkook clears his throat quietly, “Um...since you guys offered me a ride...you know…” 

Without even having to look at each other, you just know you and Chohee have similar smiles plastered on each of your faces. “Well,” Chohee makes a quick glance at the man seated at the back, “if you insist, Jungkook-ssi. How nice of you to do so.” 

You’re positive Jeon Jungkook will regret he even offered - in half an hour. Probably less. 

Just recently, Chohee has decided to relive an old hobby of hers: teasing you relentlessly with men clearly way out of your league until you actually end up investing much more time than intended (just as planned by Chohee) - until you come to the realization that there wasn’t going to be even the slightest chance of them even liking you back. End point is - you end up getting heartbroken for irrational reasons. 

Chohee, whose eyes sparkle with mirth with every mention of the Jimin, continues her teasing, despite your constant reminders to have her energy and time diverted to another subject, instead of poking her head through your currently non-existent love life. 

It’s an undisputed fact that Jimin is a cutie and quite the charmer, especially with his heroic deed of saving your sorry ass from getting your drinked spiked at the bar. However, there is a part of you that knows the slightest bit of infatuation you might feel or might have felt for Jimin was probably caused by the lack of interaction with men for the majority of your collegiate life. Of course, you always came back to your principles, that of which is prioritizing your career to shun love interests. 

Admittedly, you might have gotten distracted once, but you won’t ever let that happen again. 

In line with your best friend’s attempt to have you score a date and a boyfriend eventually, (her timeline, not yours!)Chohee had even gone so far as offering Jimin a ride to the oath taking ceremony that’s going to be held today at the Coex convention center at Gangnam. 

With Jimin’s apartment just a couple of blocks away from the gasoline station, you spot him right away when Chohee turns right into the corner. He’s stood by the entrance of his apartment building, looking effortlessly attractive as he scrolls through his phone while waiting. 

Chohee presses her fist lightly against the center of the wheel, the car emitting a soft honk to get Jimin’s attention. Jimin gives a curt wave in acknowledgment and reaches between his legs to grab his satchel. As soon as Jimin opens the car door, his head jolts slightly backward in surprise when he sees another passenger already inside. 

Chohee does the ice-breaker, introducing Jungkook to Jimin while she drives off. “Just before we got to your place, we had to fill the tank first and whaddya know? Met Jungkook at the gas station too! His bike broke down and I’ve offered him a ride - ergo, your new seatmate.” She adds a thumbs up. “Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin.” 

Contrary to Chohee’s cheerful voice mere seconds ago, awkward silence ensues after the two men bow to each other in greeting. The only subject of sanity the car was holding onto was the soft voice of Chohee’s navigation app coming from her phone on the dashboard. 

Why was it so hard to talk when you’ve all got at least a few things in common? 

Right, maybe it’s the fact that Jimin may or may not have known about your beef with Jeon Jungkook. Chohee’s doing, obviously. 

Thankfully, you spot a Burger King joint along the way and propose getting a greasy breakfast instead of looking for other options. There are murmurs of agreement heard in the suddenly cramped space of your best friend’s car. “Jungkook-ssi, breakfast still on you, yeah?” Chohee asks, joining the queue. 

“Uh…yeah-” 

“Perfect! Just making sure because _________ and I are famished!” Okay - that wasn’t exactly the word you were looking for, but if it gets you the free meal, then you’re absolutely ravenous. Chohee’s eyes briefly pass yours before sending a wink in Jungkook’s direction. “How ‘bout you Jimin-ssi? You hungry?” 

He looks at you, then Chohee, then at Jungkook. “I’m fine, I’m not hungry.” You see Jungkook trying painfully hard to not let his eyes dart around too much. Just then,  a low rumble erupts from Jimin’s stomach. Woops. Your brain can dictate your emotions but tummy would never lie outright. 

“Jimin-ssi!” Jungkook clasps a hand on the blond’s shoulder. “It’s fine! Breakfast is on me. Order up, bro!” 

With Jimin still looking hesitant, Jungkook decides to add a little fairy dust to his encouragement, “think of it as a mini celebration of us finally getting to be licensed doctors in a few hours!” Jimin gives in with very evident reluctance, even offering to pay for the whole group instead at one point. 

Your swear you see hesitation cross Jungkook’s eyes briefly, but you’re glad he’s a man of honor, even if it be for this particular instance only, firmly dismissing Jimin’s proposal. Which is perfect, honestly, because  this time you get a chance at revenge and a very hearty breakfast. 

“No crumbs on the floor, please!” 

From the backseat, you see Jungkook eyeing your paper bags on yours and Chohee’s laps, face stoic as ever. Emphasis on bags. A little more concentration and Jungkook can pretty much send lasers blasting through his eyes with the way he’s scrutinizing your orders. 

As shameless as it sounds, you and Chohee were never ones to back out of a free meal - and make the most out of it, especially when one had offered so nicely. So imagine Jungkook’s reaction when he and Jimin only got a Whopper meal and you and Chohee get upgraded full meals. 

“Doesn’t seem like we’re the ones who should be worrying about crumbs…” Jungkook mutters, taking a bite of his fry that’s a little too harsh for a slice of a poor fried potato. 

“You say something Jungkook?” Chohee queries, unabashedly letting out a small burp after taking a sip of her chocolate flavored milkshake. Bowing his head, Jimin tries to hide his smile as he takes a bite of his burger. You decide to step in, wanting to add a little more MSG to your breakfast menu this fine morning. 

“Hey Chee, heard of the news last Monday? There had been recent occurrences of drivers kicking out their passengers in the middle of the expressway, especially this road in particular… talk about some zombie apocalypse shenanigans...I wonder why though…” 

Jungkook clears his throat, addressing you this time. “Your strawberry milkshake...good, yeah?” With cheeks flushed, Jungkook dares not to look forward, murmuring his regrets over ordering more food next time. 

You nod with genuine gusto, throwing him an additional thumbs-up, which only causes Jungkook to sulk slightly in his seat. You eat the rest of your food with a bright smile. Ah, free food - what else is there to say? 

“If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help.” 

After reading the Hippocratic oath, the newly declared licensed medical doctors collectively put their hands down and take their seats. There is an immediate sense of fulfillment heavy in the air. Nobody can blame them - not when one has gruelled through six years of medical school. 

Jungkook inhales deeply, yet he still feels like he’s out of breath. 

He draws in another long one, savoring each second of exhale afterwards. From his peripheral vision, Jungkook watches you as you wave endlessly to the someone on the far right where the family and relatives are seated. Though he can’t see much from afar, with the way your hands are moving slower by the second, he figures you’ve already managed to catch the attention of whoever it is you were waving at. 

Jungkook diverts his eyes somewhere else, eventually landing on the stage where he sees his own father, standing behind the podium as he gives - what people beside him would consider - a ‘motivational’ speech in front of all the new doctors of Korea. 

He wonders if he could even see him, if he knew that his own son actually made it through college, if he realized that they were under the same roof at this very moment - an occurrence he never thought would happen again. 

Jungkook reverts his eyes back to you, watching you in secret as you talk to yourself while trying to address someone else. So you were waving to your parents after all. Cute. The man couldn’t fight back the small smile etching onto his face.  

He was happy for you - a genuine statement, even though majority, if not all, your encounters consist of you both bickering like small kids… And yet, he can’t deny the strong feeling of envy brewing at his heart, knowing that he could never have the same type of interaction you had with your parents, with how tight you all seem. 

Jungkook felt sick. Even though you ordered twice as much as he did, he felt like throwing up. He wanted this ceremony to be over with already.

Much to Jungkook’s relief, the program ends shortly after that. Excited to greet and congratulate the new batch of doctors, people from all sides of the venue rush to the entrance. With literally nowhere else to go, Jungkook decides to follow you through the crowd, in the hopes that you’ll lead him to Chohee and Jimin so he could properly thank them for the ride and he could be on his way. 

He’s surprised to not see you the least bothered by it, but then again, the convention center is packed with both the oath-takers and their relatives, so you might have really not known that he’s been following you all along. 

Like usual, it’s Chohee who notices him first. This girl is everywhere, all the time. 

“Jungkook, you’re here!” 

Chohee's acknowledgement of his presence causes you to turn in your heel quickly to verify it. You stare at him briefly, opening your mouth as if to say something when someone calls out your name.  “Mom!! Dad!!” 

Your English call causes a few onlookers and Jungkook recalls somebody once pointing out that you were a foreigner - and that you were also the first one to finish at the top of the class at SNU. 

With Chohee’s parents tailing yours, they rush to their own daughter, congratulating her with a hug and a cute bouquet of tulips. As Jimin appears with his own party not too long afterwards, Jungkook figures it’s his cue to leave. At this rate, none of you would have noticed if he actually left. 

Just as Jungkook was about to take off, a small hand grabs his wrist. You’re looking up at him and he swears he sees your lips curve upward a little before dragging him back to your little group. Stunned as ever, Jungkook wonders if he hinted on a little bit of concern in your features… and you smiled at him! For the first time! At least that’s what he thought he saw. 

Admittedly, all interactions between you and him were not the most friendly. Jungkook knew he acted like a dick a couple of times, but it’s the only way he knows that might allow you to lower your guard because the only thing he was certain of was that you get worked up every time you see him. 

Regardless of whether or not it really was a smile, Jungkook finds himself standing in the midst of this gathering of some sort. “Moms, Dads, this is Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin.” 

The moms suddenly gush over them, while their fathers eye the two younger men warily. “Are you?… you’re not…” Chohee’s mother nudges her husband a little too obviously. “If they are, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?” she grits, a bright smile plastered on her face. Jungkook wanted to laugh at the uncanny resemblance with her daughter. 

“Oh what young fine men you are! Mrs. Park, you must be very proud of your son!” Your mother exclaims, resting her cheek on her palm. “But Jungkook-ssi, your parents must be lost then… my husband and I couldn’t figure out how this whole convention center works either…” 

Jungkook shakes his head slowly, lips pursed. “Oh. Um, my parents won’t make it today. They’re very busy people…” Jungkook drags his words, hoping they’ll drop the subject. 

Well, they did, but there was an inevitable pregnant pause after that - one which Jungkook was avoiding in the first place. Chohee’s mother clasps her hands together, breaking the awkward tension. “Uh - would you like to join us then? A little celebration for a memorable day?” 

Jungkook bows his head curtly and declines the offer. He wanted to, but he knows it’ll only do more damage to the wound. “It’s okay, Ma’am. I still have quite a lot of things to do today, like getting my motorcycle fixed.” Jungkook nods to Chohee and the girl briefly recalls how they got to the venue together. 

Jungkook doesn’t take long after that, bidding his goodbye to everyone and thanking Chohee for the ride that morning. “Well, I’ll be going now. __________-ssi, Chohee-ssi, Jimin-ssi, guess I’ll….see you when I see you.” 

“See you when we see you then,” you reply and Jungkook swears it’s an actual smile on your face this time. He returns the action and gets on his way, hoping that he really does get to see you all another time.

© joontier 2021

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #bts series #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff

[tatttletale]

Moving On | Mystery Skulls Animated

In which Lewis isn't vengeful or corporeal. AU, I guess?

I wrote this tiny piece in an hour for an exam and I think it turned out okay?? So I'm just... leaving it here for angst...

The shop's doorbell rings and Arthur sits up from his place on the ground, ever attentive.

        This is the fourth car in as many hours and yet he immediately agrees to fix it, promising its return at the same time tomorrow. He smiles and chats effortlessly as the customer fills out the form, hands over his keys and leaves again just as quickly, adding yet another project—another distraction—to the queue.

        Arthur does not falter. Instead, the mechanic gulps water from a plastic bottle, signs agreement on the form and cycles around to the Toyota on the far side of the garage, delivered this morning with a crumpled bonnet. Before removing the engine, he decides to check underneath and stretches out on a creeper, pulling himself under the mangled car. I catch a glimpse of dark bruises under his eyes before he disappears.

        I huff in frustration, glancing again at the front desk. A drained mug has been left on top of the paperwork, staining the service sheets underneath with coffee rings. Uncle Lance hasn't uttered a word to his nephew all week, which is extraordinary, considering how high the head mechanic's standards are. I can hear him in another room, barking orders at employees.

        I walk to the Toyota and stand beside it. Arthur seems to notice me because he stops work and pushes himself out on the creeper.

        "Arthur," I sigh. "You can't work all day. You need some sleep."

        Irritated, he sighs, sits up and rubs his eyes.

        He signs himself out early.

*****

When we get home, Arthur immediately disappears into his room, avoiding my violin stand in the hall. Our home is cozy like that, packed with knick knacks, with memories.

        I don't follow him. It's three hours later when Vivi finally saunters up and knocks.

        "Artie? You wanna come out for dinner? It's pizza night tonight."

        Good on you, Vivi. That will bring him out.

        "Gimme a minute," comes Arthur's strained voice.

        He emerges twenty minutes later for dinner, eyes bloodshot. Dios mio, is he tired.

        Arthur's quiet at the table. He looks sullen. Whenever Vivi speaks, he engages with her, smile taut and a little too wide. Fifteen minutes later the pizza boxes are empty and he goes back to his room. This time, I decide to peek.

        When I open the door and look through, Arthur's sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Thick tear trails run down his face and his pillow is wet.

        He doesn't seem to notice me as I enter, padding across the carpet to sit on the bed next to him. "Arthur, we love you," I tell him, resting a hand on his knee. "And we're worried about you. Please tell us what's wrong."

        He doesn't respond. I sigh and remain, waiting for the silent tears to stop.

        When he finally wipes them away, he doesn't talk to me. He rolls over and sets his alarm for 7:30am—that's the usual. His shift starts at 8:00.

        He kicks off his shoes and flicks the lamp off. I leave then.

        He doesn't even change into pyjamas.

****

Arthur drops the keys back into the customer's hand and flashes him a smile. The garage is now empty, all distractions gone.

        Uncle Lance is about to speak to him, I can see it. The doorbell rings before he can open his mouth and we turn to find Mama walking in. Her lush skin looks like the night against mine. Her crimson curls starkly contrast my own unremarkable hair.

        "Mrs Pepper," Arthur greets her, ever formal.

        "Arthur, please, it's Camila," she smiles, like she does every time.

        "Camila," Uncle Lance says, stepping forward. "'Scuse me fer askin', but what're yer here for? Yer car broke down too?"

        "No," she assures him, throwing a wink at Arthur. "But I'm sure your nephew would have no trouble fixing it if it were."

        "Tell me 'bout it," Lance grunts. "Artie here's been takin' half the damn cars that drive in!"

        She smiles kindly at him. "You must be so proud of how hard he works. My Lewis used to cook for us all the time."

        I smile at her, warm pride in my chest.

        "Well, I came here to invite you two to dinner," Mama continues. "And Vivienne too, of course. Any friend of Lewis' is a friend of ours."

        "Thank you, Mrs Pepper," Arthur says weakly. She gives him a light squeeze on the shoulder.

        "Artie, why don't yer go home."

        Arthur turns to Lance in surprise. "But my shift ends at five."

        "And yer been workin' yer arse off," Lance retorts. "Yer needa rest sometime. 'Sides, I wanna have a talk with Camila. You go home now."

        Arthur does what he's told. Thankfully.

*****

Tonight plays out the same as before. The same as every night.

        After dinner I go back to his room to check on him. He's crying again.

        "Oh, Artie," I sigh, but I leave him alone this time. Instead I take notice of the photos on the walls. All three of us, mucking around. The walls at the garage are bare.

        It seems like hours before he quiets and kicks off his shoes. He sets his alarm to 6:00am, and I raise my eyebrows. He sleeps.

*****

The next morning he drags himself out of bed before the alarm, taking care to shut it off before it blares and wakes Vivi. He ambles to the kitchen and pours himself coffee, gulping it down and leaving through the front door. Concerned, I follow him out to the van, slipping into the passenger seat.

        He ignores me, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the driveway. Down the road, he pulls up to the florist's and disappears inside. I frown. Arthur isn't a flowers guy—that's more my thing.

        He reappears a few minutes later with roses—my favourite colour, too. He hops in and I breathe in the scent of the purple blooms as we cruise down the road, the town waking from slumber around us.

        Finally we pull up to a tall iron fence, and he cuts the engine, grabbing the flowers and jumping out. I follow him tentatively into the cemetery—why here?

        We weave through gravemarkers, past multiple rows, Arthur precise in his direction. Eventually, we stop by a black marble headstone, and I bend to read the inscription.

Here lies LEWIS PEPPER Beloved son, brother and friend.

1998—2019

        It's been a year. Arthur sets the roses down and I see the tears. My heart sinks.

        All those nights awake. . . the never-ending work. . . the fights. . . the tears. . .

        Because of me?

        I kneel in front of him. I know he can't see me, so I take his face into my hands. He seems to shudder.

        "We love you," I tell him, sincere, and press my forehead to his. "And we want you to be happy."

        He closes his eyes. "We love you," he echoes. "And I know you want me to be happy."

        He sighs, and stands, walking away. I take one last sweet smell of the roses and follow, leaving them to wither. Some things are more important than rest.

Check out this story on: - Wattpad - FanFiction - Archive Of Our Own

#mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #msa #arthur kingsmen #lewis pepper #mystery skulls arthur #mystery skulls lewis #fanfic #fanfiction #mystery skulls au #mystery skulls animated au #au #alternate universe #book cover #book covers #photoshop #edit #edits #photoshop edit #photoshop edits

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 133

Whew. I finally get a chance two queue chapters and add to my buffer! Yayyy me! Kind of long author’s note, feel free to skip to the readmore.

Seriously, though, I managed to only work 5ish hours of OT this week instead of the 25/wk I’ve been clocking the last several weeks. It’s been a ride, for sure. Thank you for bearing with me through this frankly-insane time.

@baelpenrose and I have had more chances to write together in real-time, which considering both our schedules and living 3 timezones apart has been a delightful miracle and I will never take it for granted ever again.

@anotherusrname and @the-raven-fae have been very encouraging of my efforts to work less, which - it turns out - has been a huge concern for oh, my entire family... Sorry I worried you all. :(  I’m trying to do better! Swear I have vacations coming up!

@charlylimph-blog has just been... such a support. She literally texts me every night at 10pm my time to tell me to take my most important medications. Sainted Eldritch Fae cannot be appreciated enough, and somehow I have two.

Final shout outs go to @snickerfritz, @just-a-pastel-bunny, and @eldritchmoths for love-bombing my inbox recently. Seeing anyone speed-run through this story lets me know that I’m not wasting my time.

Don’t forget to check out the podcast!!  AhhhhH! I want to scream in delight each time a new episode is released!

Focus, I told myself, breath coming in short pants. It was easier said than done, with sweat dripping into my eyes while I constantly tried to pay attention to where I was safe to move to without putting myself in the line of fire. Seeing the incoming hit, I ducked and pivoted to my left - 

“Oof,” I grunted as I took a blow to the ribs.  I managed not to be winded or fall, but I was pretty sure something just broke.

A voice taunted me. “You have got to get better at keeping your guard up.”

“I am,” I panted. “My ribs are a lot tougher than my face.” Refusing to be distracted, I jumped back from the next hit and started circling wide.

“And I hit harder than your sister.”

Yeah, well broken ribs are for bitches, I thought to myself. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had a broken rib before. I was fine. Out of reflex more than forethought, I pivoted my leg and bent my knee to absorb the shock of the next hit - this one to the thigh. Grabbing the offending leg, I held tight around the calf with one arm before shoving upwards on the heel with the other, dropping him onto his back.

Unfortunately, the kick to the chin I got as a result also landed me on my back.

Like an exceedingly annoying ninja, Arthur sprang to his feet before holding out a hand to help me up off the floor. “You should have expected that.”

I scowled and rubbed my jaw. “Why am I sparring with you again?”

“Because Tyche’s busy and I’m the only other person willing to actually hit you hard enough to teach you anything.”

Rolling my neck, I tried to relieve some of the tension that was setting in. “It’s not like aliens are going to know Terran hand-to-hand combat,” I pointed out as I took my stance for the next round.  This time, his movement was a lot more fluid, which told me he was going for grappling instead of striking.

The kick I almost took to the face told me that his stance was also a lie.

There wasn’t any time for trash-talking, this time around. I could barely find time to breathe as he aggressively attacked, although I barely managed to avoid him actually touching me.  I wasn’t an idiot - if he got a hold of me, I would be waking up from a forced nap with a sore throat.  However, after what felt like an eternity and was probably only about five minutes, the odds of keeping it up were dwindling.  My heart was pounding in my ears, my lungs were searing with the effort of trying to keep up with it, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that I had enough stamina to outlast him.  The man ran a 5k a day as a warm up.  Even more humiliating, I had spent the entire time running and dodging without even a chance to mount a counter to any of it.

Finally, I was spent.  Every time I tried to raise my hands, they shook so badly that there was no chance of landing a hit, even if I had the opportunity.  My legs were trembling, my knees burned, and the broken rib felt like someone was twisting a hot blade into my side.  Feeling defeated, I dropped my hands and squared my feet up.  The blow to the solar plexus was unsurprising, as was the chokehold he put me in as soon as I doubled over.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time this had happened while sparring with him - or even with Tyche.

I was so frustrated. No matter how much I sparred with either of them, I felt like I hadn’t gained any ground.  The whole point to training so hard was to prove that I actually could defend myself. Councilor or not, the thought that I was going to be shoved in the back of the Archives in the event of an attack was insulting.  Not only that, it was even more insulting than the time I had round-the-clock guards. No one else had to put up with this, why did I?

“Tap out, Sophia,” he warned me.  He wasn’t squeezing yet, but he had his arm locked tightly enough that I couldn’t get my head out.  When I silently refused, he sighed and applied pressure, pissing me off even more.

I’m not helpless, I growled at myself. The anger at myself and the frustration with the situation flooded my mind, and I started pulling against the hold with my legs.

“You’re going to break your neck,” he grunted as he leaned the opposite direction.  I may not have had his stamina, but I could also leg-press nearly five-hundred pounds. He could let go, or lean back, no other options.

Spots were floating in front of my eyes when I felt his posture change, and as soon as I felt it, both my arms swung up.  Assuming I was going to hit his face, he leaned back even further…

Right into the path of my cupped hands, which hit his ears hard enough to bruise both my hands.

“Ow, FUCK!” he shouted, the pain of his ruptured ear drums distracting him just enough that I was able to pull my head free.

As soon as I stood, he reached up to one of his ears, only to pull his hand away and see blood. “Son of a - “ he stopped when he realized what happened. “Huh. That… that is a pretty neat trick.”

Oh, just you wait, I thought to myself.

Sure enough, as soon as he tried to shift his weight for another assault, he stumbled. Trying to compensate, he made it even worse and ended up falling flat on his back.  Dropping his head to the mat in defeat, he splayed his limbs out to try to gain some sense of equilibrium. “Oh that is cool,” he muttered, obviously for my benefit since he couldn’t exactly hear himself.

I managed to get him to his feet and drag him to the corridor as the medical transport arrived - there was no way I was going to try to walk him to a medbay.  Once his eardrums were restored - along with his internal balance - Arthur stood and stared me down. “That was a dirty trick, Sophia.”  Without warning, I was suddenly pulled into a crushing hug. “I am so proud of you.  Do that, a lot of it.”

“Can’t breathe,” I gasped.

He released me, stepping back. “Right. The rib.”

I tried to wave him off. “It’s just a broken rib. I’ll be fine.”

“Medbay.” He gestured around the room. “Stop being stubborn.”

“You’re overreacting - “

“If you trip and fall, which you will, you can puncture a lung.”

“Hasn’t happened yet.”

“It’s been broken all of ten minutes. Medbay. Now.”

I glared at him. “If you think this is the first broken rib I’ve had, you’re insane. It’s not even the fiftieth.”

“Stop reminding me that I can’t go back to Earth and kill someone who is hopefully dead anyway. You made me go to the medbay for some broken teeth after the fight with Jokul. Also, with your luck it’s a miracle you haven’t killed yourself by breathing, and I am not going to be the one who’s next up on Tyche’s shit list. Go. Medbay. Now.”

I opened my mouth to argue again, but was cut off by swearing and Arthur literally just picking me up and dropping me in the closest berth.  With exactly zero shame, he pinned me down by my shoulders and hips while one of Noah’s avatars held me down from the other side and scanned, then healed, my broken rib - both of them, it turns out. Finally, they both let go of me.  “Can I leave now?” I asked petulantly.

“Only if you tell me the eardrum trick so I can figure out how to use it on other species.”

Sliding off the berth and to my feet, I ran a hand through my hair. “Easy. You just cup your hands so there aren’t any cracks between your fingers, like this.” I demonstrated. “And then try to clap your hands through someone’s head, right over the ears. Force of the air ruptures the ear drums, and the trauma reaction kills their spatial sense and balance.” When he tilted his head at the simplicity of it, I shrugged. “Women’s self-defense classes.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Speaking of women and self-defense, we have got to get you more in the habit of striking and blocking with your legs.  Pretty sure you’d kick like a horse if you tried.”

“If I kick you, I’ll break something.”

“Your legs are a lot tougher than you think - “

“I meant something on you,” I clarified, staring at the ground.

I didn’t look up, but I could hear the savage grin in his voice at what he said next. “Oh, we have got to try this.” When my head snapped up, sure enough, he was smiling. “If you can land a kick on me, I won’t even be mad if you break something. But that’s not what I meant.”

“You want me to test it on someone else?” That wasn’t exactly a better option.

He rolled his eyes. “Maverick literally does calibrations for a living. Pretty sure he’s got something that measures impact force.  Then we do the math from there.”

“I feel like I’m on an episode of MythBusters,” I grumbled as we headed out of the Medbay and back towards my office.

“I know!” he agreed enthusiastically.

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#the miys #found family #aliens #apocalypse #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #hfy #self defense #science fiction #sci fi #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing #my writing

[anotherimaginethatblog]

Family Gatherings

Meet the parents.

Pairing: Kenny x reader

Warnings: small mention of something cheeky ... maybe more in part 2

Summary: you finally make the trip to meet Kenny’s family.

so i finally found the time to sit and write a little and this ended up being a lil longer than expected bit ive enjoyed writing this one, probably be a part two (possibly 3) so let me know what you think x 

hope you like it 

You were nervous, you had been since the day Kenny booked your airline ticket to Winnipeg so you could finally meet his family. You had heard all the stories about them, and they sounded lovely, but you were still, naturally nervous. Constant thoughts had flown through your head since the day you packed, what if they didn’t like you? Didn’t approve of you? you took another sip of your drink hoping the soothing flavour would relax you.

An hour later the pilot informed the plane full of weary passengers that the flight would be making its late arrival at the airport shortly, you began to gather your things up and pack them back into your designer backpack Kenny had bought you as a gift but couldn’t help thinking you’d made a mistake by bringing it, what if they thought you were showing off? Too gaudy? “breathe” you told yourself “it’ll be fine, they’ll love you” you said trying to boost your self-confidence.

“sorry mam, but would you mind stowing your bag? Were going to land soon that’s all” asked the kind stewardess who had given you that extra miniature off the drinks trolly earlier, probably due to the anxiety she saw on your face after striking up a conversation about why you’d be visiting Winnipeg in November.

“sure, sorry” you smiled back.

 Finally, After the stress of the queue at passport control, your bag coming off the plane last and trying to find your way out of the baggage hall altogether you were here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag to see a text from Kenny already, “waiting in the arrivals hall, ring me when your out” it read. You dialled his number and he picked up immediately, so quick he must have been waiting for you thought. “finally, you here yet?” he laughed.

“yeah, just got through, been a nightmare” you replied, “where you at?” you asked him.

“just at the coffee shop with my dad, well wait here for you. You’ll see it if you walk to the end”.

“okay babes see you in a sec” you replied before hanging up, instantly feeling nervous. His dad. You were going to meet his dad for the first time in an airport after hours of travel. Fantastic.

You saw Kenny straight away, those two-tone curls where recognisable anywhere. He looked relaxed and rested whilst he sat chatting to his dad unbeknown to you about how nervous he was for you to see his home and family. “what if she thinks I’m a huge loser once she’s seen I’m just a weird kid from Canada?” he asked his dad. His anxiety spiking in anticipation.

“she won’t, she sounds a great girl and clearly likes you so stop worrying.” His dad replied smiling at his son.

So deep in conversation they hadn’t seen you approach, “hey ken” you said, smiling from ear to ear at finally being reunited.

“babe, you look amazing, I missed you so much” said Kenny, words spilling out with a huge smile in his face as he looked you up and down, clearly appreciating the effort you had made. “this is my dad, (y/n)” he said stepping to the side to introduce the older gentleman who looked very much like his son.

“hi, I’m (y/n), I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you Kenny always talks about you” you replied any nerves melting away at how normal and nice he seemed, internally laughing at why you were so nervous in the first place.

“nice to meet you too, we’ve heard everything about you I’m so glad you managed to make it out. Big freeze on the way” he said. “let’s get home, before it’s too dark and your mother kills us for being late.” He laughed.

Kenny grabbed your bags and you both followed to the car as soon as you left the terminal you regretted your choice of coat. The leather jacket though warm was not enough to keep your heat against the cold Canadian weather “I told you to get a good coat (y/n)” said Kenny shaking his head at you.

“okay, I just thought you where exaggerating” you replied shivering.

“your so cute, its not far to walk” he said.

After realising Kenny’s definition of short walk was not the same as yours you reached the car and were incredibly grateful when his dad opened it for you so you could jump straight in. “thankyou” you told him while he cranked the heat up for you.

“no problem, its not a far drive either so well have you home and warm in a little while” he told you smiling at your lack of appreciation for the Canada winters.

 After a 40-minute drive you were at Kenny’s childhood home, it was just what you had imagined after hearing all of the stories from him about living in the suburbs as a kid. It was your classic suburban home with a lawn out front and a porch to sit on. It was actually really cute, you where excited to see inside. Kenny’s dad got out and left you two to make your way in, all of a sudden you where back to the nervous girl on the plane with the millions of questions about whether you where enough flooding your brain. All of a sudden Kenny planted his lips on yours and you snapped out of whatever you where thinking of immediately “they’re gonna love you, because I love you” he said. It was like he could read your mind and you kissed him back, you’d missed him so much in the time you’d been apart and if it wasn’t for being in his dads car outside his parents house you’d have climbed over and had him right there in the car. The moment was perfect for it … but the location was severely lacking. “we better get in the house before my mom sends my dad back out to get us” he smirked pulling away, clearly thinking the same thoughts you had been a few minutes prior.

“okay” you smiled back “lets go”.

 Once inside the house you felt relaxed all of a sudden, it felt like a home and all the stress you had had about the visit faded away. You took your coat and shoes off and followed Kenny into the kitchen where a beautiful blonde lady stood at the counter. “Tyson, and this must be (y/n). your so pretty” she said patting her son on the shoulder in an approving manor.

“thanks mom, I’m glas you two finally get to spend some time together. It’ll be nice to have the family all under one roof again.” He replied, with his mum giving you the once over.

“I’m so glad you’ve finally brought us a girl home, I thought you’d never setlle down to be honest” she said teasing her only son.

“mom” he said laughing back “I’m gonna take our stuff up, my room yeah?” he asked

“mhmm, and (y/n) across the hall” she said trying to gauge her sons reaction.

“your joking, I’m a grown man mom” said Kenny laughing trying to cover for the fact he’d been wanting to get you into bed since he’d seen you in the airport in those skin tight pants he loved so much.

“Its fine” you interjected not wanting to upset Kenny’s mum and to stop a fight over a room before you’d even settled in. “its fine, I totally respect that. We respect that don’t we ken” you said looking at him with pleading eyes to drop it.

“fine, its fine” he said turning to walk upstairs leaving His mum feeling guilty, though she would never admit it. Honestly she had no problem with the two of you sharing a room but who wants to hear the inevitable through thin walls on the first weekend of meeting your sons possible future wife.

“thankyou” she mouthed quietly to you smiling at how gracious and kind you had been at trying to avoid an awkward situation on your first meeting. You smiled back and followed Kenny upstairs to your room for the next few days. It was a gorgeous guest room, you dropped your bags off and crossed the hall to see Kenny in his childhood room. It was painted blue and like you expected there where wrestling and hockey pictures and posters all over the walls. “cute,” you said smiling at him

“its changed a little but not much” he said smiling back “my mom painted but put all my pictures back up” he laughed.

“that’s sweet, she probably wanted it to be the same for when you got back” you said.

“not that I ever got the chance much” Kenny sadly replied.

“she understood why though” you mentioned reassuringly with your arm on his back.

“you know, I never thought id get a hot girl in my room” he said laughing

“you still wont” you said getting up to go downstairs “come on lets go hang out” you laughed Kenny following reluctantly.

 you spent the rest of the evening chilling out in the kitchen, drinking wine with his mum while him and his dad watched sports on tv. “I’m glad I got to meet you” his mum said to you smiling

“me too, I’m so glad to finally meet everyone and happy for Kenny to spend some family time at home, he’s always on the road I’ve told him he needs to make more of an effort” his mum appreciating your words.

“yeah but he’s busy doing what he loves, I would never tear him away from that” she said laughing at him and his dad.

A few hours later it was time to head to bed, his mum and dad had called it a night a few hours earlier but you and Kenny had stayed up to chill and watch a little tv together. “I’m heading up babe” you said pecking him on the cheek

“okay babe me too then” he said getting up to turn everything off  before following you upstairs

You waited for him at the top of the stairs, pulling him into a hug “guess ill see you in the morning” you teased

“unless you wanna sneak over in a little bit” he teased

“Kenny … no, I don’t want to disrespect your mom” you said back shrugging.

“okay okay, can I at least get a hand job in the bathroom” he laughed  

“goodnight Kenny” you said turning to walk away.

After completing your evening routine you settled down for the night, it was hard to drift off knowing your man was just over the hall, who you had been dying to touch since before the last time you had said goodbye all those weeks ago. Eventually your eyes began to feel heavy and just as you where settling in for the night your phone began to buzz, straight away you knew who it was. – im lonely- it read, you rolled your eyes, it was gonna be along night.

#kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fanfiction #kenny omega x reader #aew fanfiction #aew imagine #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction

[mrs-hatake]

900 followers prompt list!!

We just hit 900 followers on this blog and I’m honestly so speechless! Thank you everyone for loving and supporting this blog ❤️

In celebration, I decided to make a prompt list for all of you authors and inspiring authors to help you write wether you’re on a writer’s block or aren’t sure what to write exactly. I will track this via aizawakashi prompts.

So, without further ado, here’s the prompt list!

All fandom:

- You return home after a long day at work and your character interest showers you in kisses and pampers you the whole day with your favorite food and cuddles with you watching your favorite movie.

- Day at the beach! You and your character interest head to the beach for the weekend to relax and flee from the hectic city life. 

- 7 minutes in heaven!! Bored with nothing to do, you recommend playing 7 minutes in heaven with your (multi) character interest. 

- Surprising your husband at work by bringing them their lunch or desserts because you know they’ve been working very hard lately and you just want to cheer them up.

- Masquerade ball au! You are invited to a masquerade ball. Alone and nervous, a handsome and mysterious man offers to dance with you. You are charmed by him and slowly start to crush on him. You were to kiss but suddenly, the clock stuck midnight and he vanishes. Disappointed, you look for him everywhere for months. And when you find him, you discover that he was a [insert favorite mythical creature] and offers you to join him for all of eternity.

- Meeting your parents au! After being together for a long time, it was finally time to introduce your boyfriend to your family. You were anxious that they wouldn’t get along but were surprised when they did! Later that night, your mother pulls you to the side and said that she thinks he would be the perfect husband.

- Haunted house au! Queue the funny montage scenes. Lots of hand holding and hiding behind each other. 

Naruto:

- You challenge your crush Naruto to a ramen eating contest. Kiba and Shikamaru bet that Naruto would win while Sai, ino and Sakura bet their money on you. The winner is up to you. 

- Kakashi cries after spending an hour teaching his son new words. Worried, you rush to the room only to find your son giggling at his dad while Kakashi is in a state of crying and laughing. Concerned, you asked your husband if he was okay. He replied that his son just kept making mistakes and it was the cutest thing ever and Kakashi didn’t know how to deal with such cuteness.

- Wanting to help Neji with his rebellious phase, you give him an all goth/emo makeover. Piercings, tattoos, ripped jeans, the whole work. You teach him to have fun and let loose. Hiashi is angry, forbids him from seeing you but Neji stands up for himself, fights for you and for his freedom. Hiashi reconsiders.

- While on watch on a mission, Sai couldn’t sleep and was entranced by your beauty so he decided to do a quick sketch of you while you watched over your team as they slept, not knowing that Sai was awake. 

- Kakashi introduces you to his dogs and waits for their approval. You take this very seriously as you want to impress them because they were his family.

- Seducing Shikamaru while dancing at the club. You two have been flirting for a while, making empty promises of showing each other a good time. After a long mission where the sexual tension between you was high, you finally decided to do something about it. 

- Cooking date with Itachi! You help Itachi cook dinner with him and it’s so soft and very cute. You both have a great time and you become so emotional seeing how happy and relaxed Itachi was being. 

- Hidan is a guitarist from this new rock band, Akastuki. You have a huge crush on him and one day, you bump into him as he was running away from his rabid fans so you help him escape and hide into this small local cafe that barely had any customers. 

One Piece:

- Law was being grumpy because the straw hats decided to stop at a winter island. His and Luffy’s crew were all having fun building snowmen, igloos and making snow angels. You wanted him to join and have fun for once so you took a handful of snow and hit Law straight in the face. A snowball fight commences.  

- Zoro gets separated from the straw hats while at a tropical island and wanders off to a small village deep in the forest. He finds you, the village dancer, and is hypnotized by the sway of your body and the teasing gleam in your eyes. He was enjoying himself when, suddenly, criminals raided your village and as he came to your rescue, he was surprised to know that you were strong and were a skilled [insert weapon talent here] and was very impressed...and turned on.

- A beautiful girl joins the straw hats and, for once, Sanji wasn’t attracted. He doesn’t flirt with her, doesn’t call her any terms of endearments and won’t even glance her way. You two would constantly fight and argue and everyone has had enough of your shirt. The straw hats lock you up in a room until you work things out. You were surprised that Sanji treated you this way because he had never had a serious crush on someone and didn’t know how to process his emotions. 

- Ace meets Tama’s older sister while at Wano. He was drawn to your kindness and dedication to restore your village. A short romance affair  between you began, and he offered you to join Whitebeard but refused because you had to take care of your sister. You were devastated when Luffy told you what happened to Ace.

- Luffy falls in love with a female chef. He was so in love with your cooking that he said your food was better than Sanji. Queue a cooking battle between you and the blonde chef. Luffy was the judge and  you both worked very hard to impress the judge. Of course, Luffy being Luffy declares the both of you as winners. You and Sanji become best friends.

My Hero Academia:

- Aizawa runs into his college ex-girlfriend and was baffled to see her working with the League of Villains, and worse, is Dabi’s girlfriend. He blames himself and doesn’t know if he can fight you or not since he still had feelings for you. Their reason for their break up is up to you. 

- Dabi is infatuated with a fiery quirkless civilian who wouldn’t take anyone’s shit. She doesn’t really care about the whole hero vs villain thing and Dabi is just interested in her mindset and philosophy. The two work together and reader offers him a place to stay and heal his wounds after encountering heroes. 

- While working with LoV, Hawks is drawn to villain reader who has a quirk similar to poison ivy who is also working as a double spy against the superheroes. The two team up and they’re the strongest, most feared team anyone has ever encountered. 

- Reader is Overhaul’s childhood best friend and own personal nurse. She is just as ruthless and evil as Overhaul but something in Eri’s eyes and gentle aura softens her up. She struggles between helping Eri and being loyal to Overhaul.

- Aizawa’s mom has been nagging for him to get married for almost ten years now. she wasn’t getting any younger and wanted grandkids as soon as possible. Understanding his friend’s stress and frustration, Hizashi comes up with a plan of getting Aizawa into a fake relationship with reader who works as a support teacher. Queue awkward encounters, kissing in front of Aizawa’s mom and Aizawa retelling the story of how the two of you started dating. 

- Dabi wonders what’s it like to be a civilian and live a normal life. He hides his scars with make up and cleans up his looks to blend in with society and live a normal life. During his experiment, he meets reader with a low rank ice quirk who works at an ice cream parlor. No one knows of his double life and frankly, Dabi doesn’t know if he wants to return back to being a villain, especially when he started developing feelings for the reader.   

#aizawakashi prompts #one piece imagine #naruto imagines #bnha imagine #Kakashi x reader #zoro x reader #law x reader #sanji x reader #luffy x reader #naruto x reader #neji x reader #Shikamaru x Reader #sai x reader #aizawa x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader

[i-write-about-anything]

Two Betas and the Beneficial Friendships

Prompt: The reader is in not only one screwing one beta but two. Neither of the boys know, but a recent threat exposes her, what will the boys do? (WOW)

Pairings: Theo Raeken x Reader, Isaac Lahey x Reader 

Third Person POV

(Y/N) had always been part of the pack, despite her lack in being supernatural. Scott had told her about his werewolf abilities the same day he told Stiles. Isaac had made his way into the pack only a year later after discovering Scott’s secret. She had kept the secret for six months, she hadn’t thought it was going to last long, hell she didn’t even know she was attracted to the pair. It started with Isaac; she had been on a steak out with him that lasted way too long. She found him attractive, of course she did, you’d had to be blind not to find Isaac Lahey attractive. However, she never found the appeal of dating, getting your heartbroken wasn’t something she wanted to experience. So that night, while they were arguing their lips crashed, she hadn’t thought of fucking Isaac, she hadn’t even thought of kissing him, but one thing led to another and a week later, that thing happened again, they agreed not to tell anyone. It became a weekly thing, until Theo showed up. She initiated the first kiss with Theo, and Theo being the cocky son of a Bitch he is didn’t seem surprised. She meant to stop things with Isaac, but she couldn’t phantom the thought of losing him. So, she kept Theo a secret too. Theo and Isaac hated each other, so it worked out for her, neither of them had brought up their beneficial friendship with her and she was thankful for that. It wasn’t until she saw Isaac flirting with a girl that she truly felt the jealousy. She yelled at him that night, they had agreed to meet up two days before for their weekly fuck but there was no fuck that night. Instead she threw shit at him while he stood in complete shook. They had never agreed they couldn’t be with other people, regardless, she was no one to talk, she was fucking Theo behind his back. They shook it off, agreeing not to sleep with other people and when she went to end things with Theo, well, it didn’t go as planned. So, she continued to keep Theo a secret, even though she had promised Isaac she wouldn’t sleep with anyone. Now there she is, six months into her friends with benefits with both betas, she wouldn’t admit it but she had grown feelings for the both of them. She had wanted to end things with both of them, not wanting her feelings for them to continue to grow but that was easier said than done.  

She sighed for the third time as she stared into her hands, the recent threat in beacon hills getting too exhausting for her to handle. It had been two weeks, and in the two weeks she had kept her distance from both betas, her fear of being caught increasing. She took a job at a local coffee shop, to distract herself from adulthood and also to have an excuse to not see Isaac and Theo. She wanted to distant herself from them, not wanting the feelings to continuously grow. It had been a slow day causing her to overthink about the two betas, she had been the only one working the night shift and she was due to close in only thirty minutes. Her phone rang, Isaac’s face flashing on the screen before she sighed and looked at the empty café. She answered his call bringing her phone to her ear. “Isaac.” She sighed out. Isaac was relieved to hear her voice, he wouldn’t admit it either but his feelings for her had also grown, how couldn’t they?  

“Hey sweetheart.” His pet name for her sinking into her stomach causing butterflies, she loved being talked to like that, especially by him. “I haven’t seen you in a while, what time do you get off, I can go pick you up and we can come back to my place.” His happy voice rang through the phone causing (y/n) to shut her eyes.  

“I can't Isaac, I have morning shift tomorrow and all I want to do is go home and sleep.” It wasn't all a lie, she did have morning shift however she wanted nothing more than to be with him, in his arms.

“We don’t have to do anything, I can run you a bath, help you relax?” He’d try anything and everything just to see her, two weeks without her had been hell.  

“I’m sorry Isaac, not today.” She heard him sigh and her heart broke.  

“Just, call me when you’re up for it?” He waited for her response and when she said nothing, he hung up. She mentally cursed herself for denying him, she knew she needed to release some stress but she couldn't not while her feelings were involved. Closing the cafe she found herself throwing a fit and cursing at the door. The key always got stuck when she locked it.  

“Need some help princess?” She stopped in her tracks, she knew his voice, she knew his scent. She found herself closing her eyes before releasing her grip on the key loosening as she turned to see him. “Damn is it good to see you.” Theo spoke as his eyes wondered around her body.  

“Not today Theo.” She sighed as she focused her attention to the key again. She tried another four times before cursing at the key and kicking the door. Theo chuckled lightly pushing her out the way before taking the key off the door. “Thank you.” She gave him a small smile before taking the keys from his hands.  

“Why have you been ignoring me? It’s been what, two weeks?” Theo bit his lip. He found himself falling for her, even with his darkened heart, he allowed himself to feel something for her, only her.  

“You’re counting?” She rolled her eyes and began walking home, Theo following her.  

“Is it so hard to believe?” He grabbed her wrist spinning her around to face him, that was one thing Isaac and Theo didn’t share. Theo was always handsy, he knew what he was doing and he knew how to do it. Isaac was a little bit more on the shy side. “I've missed you.” Theo whispered causing her to sigh and shake her head.  

“Please Theo, not today.” She pulled her hand from his grasp before continuing her walk towards her home.  

“At least let me walk you home, it’s not safe out there, you know that.” And as if it was in queue, she was thrown onto the street, her entire right-side scrapping on the pavement as Theo registered what had just happened. She heard a loud growl coming towards her as she struggled to get up, her side hurting as tears started to drip from her eyes, something was definitely broken. Theo sprang into action, tossing the unknown werewolf away from (y/n). “Are you okay?” Theo breathed out; he swore he felt his heart at the pit of his stomach. He looked around, the werewolf nowhere to be seen. She cried out in pain when she tried to sit up. “Hey, hey, stay down, I'll call the paramedics.” Theo’s hands shook as he took the phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t ever been this terrified in his life. He quickly gave 9-1-1, his heart beating faster by the minute. “Where’s it hurt?” Theo spoke as he hung up the phone, trying to get his mind to think clearly as he waited for the ambulance.  

“My whole right side, I think I broke a rib.” She hissed out; sure, she could tolerate pain but this hurt like hell. “Fuck.” She hissed out as tears continued to drip from her eyes.  

“Let me help you.” Theo gulped his hand reaching for hers but she quickly shook her head. She knew him taking her pain would be too much for her to handle. She knew Theo, he wouldn’t have done it if he didn't care about her, and she refused to let him in, especially like that. “(Y/N).” He whispered and before she could reply, the sound of sirens cut them both off. Before they knew it they were in Beacon Hills Hospital, Scott and the rest of the pack already there as Theo had texted Scott when they were in the ambulance. They wheeled her away, leaving Theo to stare after her as the pack asked him questions.  

“Theo!” Scott shook him out of his own mind. Theo turned to look at the worried pack, Isaac biting his nails as he waited for him to say something. “What the hell happen?” Scott asked and Theo shook his head trying to recollect the details of what had just happened.  

“A werewolf, it came out of nowhere, just threw her across the street and when I tried to fight him, he just left.” Theo looked at Scott, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.  

“It’s after her.” Lydia spoke and they all looked at her. “Why else wouldn’t he have stayed and fought?” She questioned Theo, his mind already thinking of what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up to talk to her.  

“It’s a good thing you were with her.” Stiles spoke patting Theo’s back.  

“Why were you with her anyways?” Isaac questioned, his curiosity getting the best of him. The pack looked at Isaac.  

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” Theo spoke shaking his head as he sat down on a chair. “How are we going to handle this?” He looked at Scott before they all sat down.

____________

It had been three hours when they finally confirmed her thoughts, not only one broken rib but three. The skin on her right leg and arm completely broken from the pavement, they had wrapped them, in efforts to help the healing, they had given her something for the pain so she was a little loopy. A knock on the door startled her as she looked up from her arm. The pack filling the room as multiple sighs of relief were heard. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” Isaac spoke moving through the pack to go to her side. She couldn’t help but smile up at him when he took her hand in his, his lips placing a kiss on her scratched-up forehead. Theo looked at them, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

“The hell is going on there?” Stiles asked Scott who shrugged.

“You’re here.” She whispered placing her hand on his cheek, she was way out of it. She wouldn’t have done this, not in front of the pack, in front of Theo.

“Of course, I am sweetheart, where else would I be?” He gave her a small smile causing Theo to clear his throat.  

“Wait, what the fuck is happening right now?” Theo’s loud voice caused her head to snap towards him, her smile widening.  

“Theo.” She motioned for him to move closer and when he did Isaac looked at him. “Thank you for saving me.” She grabbed Theo’s hand, his confusion easing as the small act of affection cleared his mind. Isaac looking down at their hands as he looked at the pack, their eyes analyzing what the hell was going on.

“You know I'd do anything for you princess.” Theo whispered but his efforts to keep the pet name hushed was a fail, they all heard it, even Stiles and Lydia who weren't werewolves.  

“Princess?” Isaac huffed and Theo looked at him, both of their hands still resting in one of hers. “Look, why don't you and the rest of the pack go wait outside, yeah? I’ll keep her company.” Theo looked down at (y/n) her smile not fading as the medication continued to flow in her blood stream.  

“Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? Look I was the one there, I was the one who helped her, I'm not going anywhere. So, how about you, go and wait outside.” Theo’s voice was always loud.  

“Guys, calm down.” Scott whispered as he looked at Stiles who shrugged. No one knew what the hell was going on.  

“What were you doing with her tonight Theo?” Isaac spoke and Theo rolled his eyes.  

“Look, not like it’s your business or anything but I was walking her home, alright.” Theo gave in, anything to shut him up already, you didn’t need this, you needed rest.  

“And why would you do that? You’re not her boyfriend.” Isaac spat out.

“Last time I checked; you weren’t either.” Theo snapped back. They both looked at each other, their eyes darkening before (y/n) giggled. They looked down at her confused on why she was laughing.  

“This is not how I expected things to go.” She shrugged.  

“What are you talking about?” Theo spoke.  

“I may have been seeing the both of you for six months.” She smiled before she giggled and closed her eyes. They both looked at her for a second, their mouths opening in shock before they looked at each other.

“Oh shit.” Stiles’ voice broke the silence in the room, they all looked at him before (y/n) laughed at his language.  

_____

#theo raeken #theo raeken fanfic #theo raekan imagine #isaac lahey fanfiction #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #teen wolf masterlist #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf imagine #Scott McCall #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #allison argent #chris argent #noah stilinski #Melissa McCall #Hayden Romero #liam dunbar #derek hale #Peter Hale #malia tate #jordan parrish

[plasticflowering]

ONEUS Fancall Writeup

In summary: aldjalskdjdkfjkdj I should have thought of more to say, but it was enough just to meet them and they were so kind and amazing, 10/10 group, will stan forever as long as they behave themselves, which I trust they will.

(sorry for potato quality on the gifs. That’s the unfortunate reality of Wi-Fi video calls. I tried my best to at least color them a bit)

FIRST OF ALL, MMT get your queue in order. I got the message that said “your call’s coming up very soon, be on standby” and literally ONE SECOND LATER Skype was ringing, ahhhhhhhhh

The thing with fancalls is that it’s always disorienting to see the member order. Like you can’t prepare for that. You never know which person is next until the phone is passed. 

Also, I got too caught up in past fansigns with asking questions so I just focused on what I wanted to tell each member here, and... well, that was a mistake. I should have indeed prepared some questions. I just feel like everything’s been asked at this point, you know?? More on that later. Anyway I felt like the time limits per member in this call stretched on for AGES, and I was not prepared to fill the space well aaaskdjhaskjdhsa I’m sorry everyone.

🐥LEEDO

First up was Leedo, and tbqh the boy looked checked out, but he was still so wonderful. They’re probably so tired and working so hard, so I felt a little bad. And, honestly, Leedo was the one I had the least to say to because idk I love him but I have kind of a silent respect for him. I’d let Leedo do his own thing and just nod at him in acknowledgement if we ever met irl

I told him that he’d looked really happy lately, and that I hoped he was taking care of himself and doing well. I also told him I hoped he was eating his vegetables (shoutout to @highponyleedo​ - admittedly I panicked 😂).

🐥: I’ll think about that.

I told him that he’s inspiring and that I think about him when I work out (which is true! Gotta get buff like Leedo!) It was a nice little convo, and I was still VERY nervous at this point having been thrust DIRECTLY into the call. In every fansign I’ve been in (four at this point), the first member is always unfortunately sort of a throwaway for my mind because I’m still scrambling 😖

He was beautiful and gracious nonetheless.

🐱RAVN

He has never done anything wrong, ever in his life. 

OKAY SO 

YOUNGJO TRIED TO DO OUR WHOLE CONVO IN ENGLISH??? 

I WAS SO IMPRESSED

HE’S SO WONDERFUL 

🐱: Your hair is green? 

✌🏻: Yes!

🐱: Like my hair for Easily song 

lksdjsalkjdaksdj ❤️

I also gave him a cheesy personal message of encouragement, and in the process I mentioned that I’m so much older than him (I AM) but I find him to be kind of a role model (I DO), and that I hope he gets to be his true self and make art that makes him happy. 

🐱, aka this bitch: Age is not important. 

✌🏻, knowing he has a noona problem: For some things, yes, you’re right!

I also showed him a fanart I drew of him, and immediately he was like “Oh, Procreate?” Yeah, boooiiii. Also he said my art was good but I’m sure he wouldn’t have said anything negative to a fan so... I just wanted him to see it lmao. 

Youngjo spent almost the entire call like this, so there aren’t many great gif opportunities, but I’m glad he got to practice his English with me! How special!

As the phone was passed to the next member, Youngjo calls out: “You are very young!” 

I love he. I’d fight him in a Denny’s parking lot, but I love he. For what purpose, that smile??

🐶XION

My son.

***Hey. Self. Note for the future: next time prepare a little more to say to your Ult.***

Okay, like, Xion looked RADIANT what the hell. See proof below

I gave him a very cheesy personal message about how I’ve watched him grow and improve and it makes me so happy, he makes me so happy with his music and his kindness. Also I mentioned that his makeup skills are always on point and look so, so good. 

🐶, like immediately, proudly: Oh, thank you!!

I’ve lived a long and good life. But now I have expired. I have deceased. My ult smiled at me like this, and I have ascended to the next plane of existence. 

However I’m coming back from the dead to finish this writeup and also to keep shitposting. 

Anyway I would and did die for him. 

BONUS: his reaction when I was like “I swear I thought I had more written out, I was like ‘oh I have so much to say to Xion’ and now here I am just staring at you.”

🐯HWANWOONG

Best! 👏🏻Boy! 👏🏻

(they’re all best boy, but Hwanwoong was just so on. He’s really just so welcoming and kind, ahhhhh)

I told him I’ve really been enjoying the 1theK choreography videos, then I mentioned the Cardi B choreo specifically and did a chef’s kiss motion, and this was his reaction (along with “thank you for watching that!”: 

Then I asked him if there was a song he really wanted make some choreography for, but he hadn’t had the chance yet. 

He thought, and then he swerved me by saying it was a SECRET and I’d have to stay tuned. 👀👀👀👀 You know I will, ya tricky lil’ bean.

Also hey who gave him the right??? To be so cute?? Like, stop. (don’t stop.) 

🐰KEONHEE

 So there’s this thing I’ve noticed with fansigns, where there’s always one member who just knocks the fansign experience out of the park so thoroughly that they steal a piece of my heart I never expected to give. For this fansign, that was Keonhee. 

At this point I was also realizing I didn’t have much prepared to say, and I was just kind of riffing. But I did want to tell him that we had two things in common: we both studied ballet, and we both sang opera. I thanked him for the recent VLive where that was A Whole Thing, and then: 

🐰, in English no less: Can you show me?

I don’t know what I expected. But I did show him. I sang a couple of operatic scales for him because I was like “what the hell, why not? Lee Keonhee’s gonna hear me sing opera. This is what my training was for.”

So that happened even though I was definitely nervous and forgot to open my throat up as much as I should have. It’s been a while, okay?

He also pointed out the LED moon lamp I keep on my side desk, which I’d forgotten to turn on before the call. So luckily Lee Keonhee was there to remind, at 5/6 of the way through my call!

🐿SEOHO

Firstly, I was taken in by the cool retro style jacket, so I mentioned that. 

What’s with this little dance he did when I was gearing up to tell him what I wanted to say? Anyway he’s cute. 

Then, I told him that Dizzy is one of my favorite ONEUS songs, and that he should definitely try to do more songwriting in the future if he wants. 

He agreed. 😂

Then, he sang a little bit of Dizzy for me, but the sound was really not doing me any favors at this point in the call so it came through a little choppy ahhh. 

So there you have it! All in all an amazing experience, would definitely do it again but would definitely prepare more to say/do/ask! I just don’t want to go in like an interviewer, but I also don’t know what else to do when there’s The Language Barrier, even with an interpreter. I’m definitely not in this for the boyfriend wish fulfillment or aegyo (Xion can’t help it), but since there is SO MUCH I could conceivably ask about, I’ve got fodder for future fansigns. 

I hope you enjoyed!!!

#fancall writeup #v.text #v.gifsets #i guess this counts for my gifset tag #even with the potato quality these are LIMITED EDITION #ahhhhh i'm so happy

[forgottenword]

Nobody asked for this and I literally have other WIPs and I haven’t gotten around to posting ANYTHING. So here’s this.Also this is written not greatly. It’s my first time trying to write out a story, or even a snippet of one, in years. So bear with me, this is going to be a long journey of finding my style and enjoying writing again.ALSO be warned I did not proof read this (and i will mostly likely never be proof reading this) so um please ignore any typos.

WC: 1818

Hotch x Female Reader (Can be seen as platonic or romantic)

It’d been a hard case. But then again, when did you and the team come back and think “Oh, that one was easy.”? It was only around ten in the morning on a Friday when you all got back to Quantico, and while Hotch sent everyone home to rest for the weekend, you watched as he went straight into his office, closing his door behind him. You mentally rolled your eyes at him and instead of following his orders, you turned to follow the boss man.

“Where you going, pretty lady?” Derek called after you when you weren’t joining the team in the elevator. You stood hesitating, holding open the glass door separating the elevator from the bullpen. You didn’t need to say anything, and instead looked back at him and then back to the door of your chief.

“If anyone will get through to him it’s you, my beauty!” Penelope got out right before the slick metallic elevator doors sandwiched together. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the stubbornness of a Hotchner.

You take a deep breath before you finally step into the bullpen, your go bag slung over your shoulder, letting the glass door swing gently shut behind you. You let your bag drop as you walk by your desk, already feeling ten times lighter, you make your way to Hotch’s office. After climbing the few steps to his office, you brace yourself for the conversation to come.

It’s true, what Penelope said, you’re the only one that’ll be able to pry Hotch from his work. You joined the team not long after Rossi, the two of you immediately bonding after he got over his lone wolf thing. It didn’t take long for you to bond with the rest of the team either, all of them soon taking you under their wing as a new profiler. However, it didn’t go the same with Hotch. Whether that was for the worse or the better, nobody knew. The two of you bickered constantly. He dropped his cold exterior when you were around and he became just a bit more human. The team didn’t know which they liked better, pre-you Hotch or the Hotch he became when you were around. You fought like siblings most of the time. The team used to tease that it was like the two of you were an old married couple, each other’s work spouse’s, but not anymore out of respect for Haley. Everyone noticed the way he’d smirk just slightly after a squabble between you two, before dropping back into unit chief mode.

But ever since that fateful day a few months back.... even you hadn’t been able to get Hotch to smile. He was working himself into the floor most days and was here earlier than he was before. Nobody dared mentioned his change in attitude, and nobody especially mentioned how the rest of the team all knew you had it in you to put the broken pieces of a man back together to get something at least close to the old Hotch back.

You shook your head of all these thoughts, you bring your knuckles to the smooth exterior of the door, and knocked. You stood for a moment, waiting for his signal to come in, but it never came. Your eyebrows creased on your forehead, your worry lines coming through. You knock again, and once again, no answer. You sigh, and take a step to the side, peaking through his office window. You weren’t surprised to find the man slumped over his work, his eyebrows knitted closed together on his face as he quickly fills out form after form on his desk.

“Fuck it,” You mumble to yourself. God, I really need sleep I’m talking to myself now. You crack the door open enough to slip your head in, you clear your throat, hoping to catch the attention of your superior. Luckily, for you, he looked up at the sudden noise that broke the silence of his office.

“Y/l/n, what are you still doing here? I thought I told everyone to take the day.” He looked up at you for what seemed like a millisecond before his eyes drifted back down to his work. You took this as a your queue to take a small step into the room.

“You did sir, but you said everyone, yet you’re still here.” You kept your tone more formal, you haven’t been your usual self since..

He sighed. “Y/l/n, I really don’t have time for your games right now. Now go home and get some rest, that’s an order.” This time he looked up at you, meeting your eye.

“With all due respect sir, I can’t do that until you agree to leave too.” His eyes hardened as you didn’t take his order, you did your best to not let your eye contact waiver. You prepared yourself for this battle with him before coming in, you weren’t going down with a fight. He dropped his pen and straightened up now. “Y/n, I won’t ask again.”

“Then I won’t be refusing again.” Your crossed your arms over your chest, a determined look taking residence on your face. “Y/n, I don’t have time for this.”

“Then I think it’s time we both head out then. Come on you’ve got Jack waiting up on you and here you are-“ Your pestering sentence was interrupted but a much sharper, harsher one. “Don’t you tell me how and when to parent my son y/l/n.”

“Hotch, god no, I didn’t mean to sir. I’m sorry.” You turned to leave, feeling that you’ve overstayed your welcome and that you wouldn’t be getting through to him this time. “I’ll see you Monday, sir.” You were halfway out the door when his voice stopped you, this time much softer.

“Y/n wait.” His voice was apologetic as he leaned back in his chair, fully looking at you. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. These last few months have just been..” He ran a hand over his face, not being able to finish the sentence.

“Oh, Aaron, believe me, I know. I don’t need you to spell it out for me.” You stared at him, locking eyes and an intense feeling filled the air. After what seemed like hours, you cleared your throat. “I didn’t mean to overstep just then, I just want you to take care of yourself too, sir.”

You watched as he seems to crumble under your words. His tough, put-together facade falling. “You’re here for all of us when we need to take a moment to get ourselves together You allow us to confide in you and let us know you’ll stay strong for us when we can’t. You’re allowed to do that same, Aaron.” His eyes were now trained on the desk, his jaw tight as he clenched his teeth. You knew if he let himself relax he might break, and Aaron Hotchner did not let others see him with his walls down.

“Y/n..” If you were surprised by his use of your first name, you didn’t show it. “I don’t know how to be a good father and a good unit chief. I..” His took a shuddering breath. “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” You asked as softly as you could.

“Afraid of failing both Jack and the team.” His voice broke at his son’s name. He seemed to be one word away from allowing his mind to take him.

You’d never heard our chief, my boss, sound so broken and lost. The man whose face is made of stone, unchanging and firm, the man who could weather any storm, the man who beat a man into the floorboards our of anger, grief, and to protect his son, looked like a child, his wall down and his vulnerability shining through. He was like a great oak tree, roots running deep, roots that would keep him grounded no matter what might come at him, but right now he looked as if he might allow the current storm take him. You couldn’t allow that.

“Let’s go home Aaron.” You said ever so softly, taking the smallest of steps towards his desk, as if you were approaching a frightened animal. His eyes snapped to yours at the mention of home, don’t read into that, and he took one last, defeated, sigh.

He just sat there, a little blankly, as you cleaned up his desk. After papers into his briefcase, grabbing old coffee cups to be dropped off in the kitchenette, and turning off his lamp, you turned to him expectantly. He was so lost in thought he wasn’t pulled out of his head until you had his chaired turned towards you and your hand was holding his, pulling gently. You gave him a gentle smile, one that just barely pulled at the corners of your mouth, and squeezed his hand. I’m here.

He allowed you to take him to your car and to drive him to his house where Jess was with a young Jack. You walked him to the door and before knocking you turned towards him. He stared ahead, his eyes fogged over by the heavy thoughts in his head.

“Aaron, go he a dad for the weekend, okay? We’ll manage without you if we get a case.” Your words startled him out of his thoughts, and the ending caused him to have a look you couldn’t decipher on his face, sadness perhaps. “It’s only a few days and Reid can probably give you a statistic on how likely it is we’d actually get called in on our weekend off. Any longer without you and all hell’d break loose.”

Your reassurance made his worry lines lessen slightly before he knocked on the door and was welcomed in by his family. You didn’t miss the way Jess looked from you and Aaron, an unreadable look on her face.

Later that night you stopped by with takeout for the three of them from one of Hotch’s favorite local business, and a batch of your famous chocolate chip cookies. You didn’t leave without giving him another warning to not come in.

*******

You weren’t surprised the next morning to see Hotch coming in, albeit an hour or so later than usual. In lieu, he was surprised to see not only you, but the entire team working at their desks on their Saturday off. He didn’t need to ask why they were there or who was behind it. Instead he just took a moment to stare at the back of your head as you spoke animatedly to Derek and Reid. He got the message loud and clear this time, especially considering you hand wrote “We’re here” largely on a piece of paper and stuck it to his desk.

He smiled to himself. Maybe he wasn’t as alone in this dark world as he thought he was. Maybe he’d found his light.

@winterscaptain

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