#guess who found their old notes

[thebirdandhersong]

.

[bereft-of-frogs]

oh no

I have petty fandom beef with MYSELF

tragic.

[mira-shard]

Posting a wip of a story i'll most likely never finish-

Gaege always had a feeling that there was more after death. Not that he let his thoughts often linger on things like that. After all, life alone was exhausting enough already without the idea of extensial dread of the undeniable fact that one day his life would come to an end. So like most teenagers, he had jumped straight to acceptance.

But by the gods, maybe if he hadn't done that, he would have been more careful with his own life. Yet here he was, distantly hearing the constant beeping of what could only be hospital equipment. But no matter how much he tried to open his eyes, it was as if he had no control over his body whatsoever.

When he did come to his senses, he was certain he was in heaven. Or purgatory-but there was no way this was hell. All it took was a simple glancing around, not moving any muscels other than his eyes to notice he was in a grassy plain. The sky above didn't have a single cloud for miles and the ground was softer than anything he had ever felt in his life.

'Get up.' His brain screamed at his body, memories starting to flood back into his brain. How did he get here again…? Just a second ago he was near the arcade and- The arcade! That's right, he got kicked out again cause he started a fight with the asshole that thought he could get away with slapping his sister's ass.

He got thrown out, insistant on beating the other guy when he followed him into a corner, only to feel a sharp pain on the back of his head.

Slowly, ever so carefully he moved to sit up, a hand moving to gently touch the back of his head where he was certain a bump should be-or atleast some dried blood. Head wounds always bleed like crazy after all, right? But there was nothing, not even the slightest hint of discomfort other than the tiredness of his body.

"Someone sure took his time to wake up," A feminine voice piped up from behind him, making Gaege tense up as his body finally seemed to listen-jumping up as he turned on his heel, coming face to face with-

"A fucking pre teen…? Well this definetely isn't heaven," He grumbled under his breath. If this was heaven, it'd have to be a model, or some gorgeous woman with wings greeting him and explaining she was an angel or something among those lines, right?

Not this girl in front of him, with an ivory white skin, which made her dark brown eyes almost seem black if it weren't for her strawberry blonde hair warming up her complexion ever so slightly.

"You think my idea of heaven was being near a fucking punk?" The little brat-who really couldn't be much older than fourteen huffed back. "Let alone one so ugly-"

Just who the fuck taught her to talk like that-?

"Just… Where the fuck are we?" Gaege interupted, too tired to justify to himself that he could totally cuss out this kid since she started it.

[deathsmallcaps]

I just found out today that my great grandmother was 16 years younger than my great grandfather. 1895 vs 1909. He was on the run from the in-Italy Italian mafia, left a wife and family there, married in Canada and left a wife and family there, then came down to the USA and started my branch of the tree. He had an odd funeral.

I’m not sure when my Great Grandmother immigrated, but she would’ve been 20 when the Great Depression hit. And because it was post WWI Germany, she was probably not in a good place fiscally.

So Imagine.

You come to America, some year very close to the beginning of the Depression. Maybe to find a job, maybe to find a husband with citizenship* and you meet this nearly 40 year old man and marry him. And then he proceeds to forbid you from ever speaking German again. Any mention of your original culture gets punished. My family has no known German traditions**.

By 25 you have two daughters that your husband has terrorized so much that both rush into marriages rather than have to live by their father’s rules a second longer. The first marries relatively well, the second marries my grandfather.

Your husband dies at age 76, which isn’t bad for someone who was born in the 1800s. He has a joint headstone, one that will tie your bodies together until your bones rot and the stones erode. But you’re 60 and don’t live with either of your daughters. Maybe because those years of terror in your house. Maybe because of shame. I don’t know. But my grandmother converts to Catholicism because her religious upbringing “… felt so empty and she liked the ceremony inherent to that faith.” (-my mother). You don’t spend much time with your grandchildren.

Your second baby has several miscarriages, several successful pregnancies, and then a living grandchild dies in an accident. Did moving here really help your descendants? She adopts two children and gives birth to my mother within a few months of your grandson’s death, and a few years later, my aunt. They’re your only granddaughters. By all accounts, she is never the same again.

Then your first baby dies. She’s 46 and living in America and has everything you could have ever wanted for her. But she dies slowly and painfully from cancer. Were you around to comfort her and her two sons as she slipped away? You were certainly alive then, but I don’t know.

Your second baby loses her husband, my grandfather, a few years later, and her family struggles financially, hundreds of miles away. She marries again, and divorces the jerk quickly after. You’re 71, is there much you can do?

In the same year, your youngest grandchild is 12 and you become a great grandmother. Do you meet this child? She’s the daughter of one of the adopted sons, does this matter to you?

You die at 79, in 1988. Germany is still split from a war you never saw. You’ve spent more life in this strange land than you ever did there. People come to America more and more in planes, not boats. Your granddaughter tells her daughter that she went to your funeral but only ever spoke to you once or twice. There’s a picture of you standing on American docks for the first time but no one knows where it is. And you’re buried under an American spelling of your name, next to that old bastard that you married.

It’s 2003 and America is convinced it’s having the worst time ever. Your second daughter works herself to the bone and dies before age 70. She worked herself to the bone. Most of her grandchildren met her, but few have memories. She and I were apparently best friends, but seeing as I was 2, I don’t remember her now. Your eldest granddaughter, my mother, is going through a rough divorce to a man who immigrated to America by accident***. A very different immigrant story to yours. In that same year, your first great-grandchild has a son.

Three years later, she marries and has a son with a Black man. Your youngest great-grandchild. Your daughter would have loved him, and her husband would have not. Would you have cared? You left Germany right around when the Nazis came to power. Would he just be one more baby to love?

17 years later, it’s 2023, and your eldest granddaughter has a rough day, so she visits her mother’s grave. Both of your daughters are buried nearby, perhaps closer in death to you than in life. She finds your grave, and realizes the age difference between you and your husband for the first time. She shares this information with her daughter.

Me. And now I’m posting on the internet while I lay in bed, avoiding my studies. I wonder if you knew this, would you still make the same choices? Would you feel that it was worth it? Would my fate, so tangential to yours, be precious enough that you would feel compelled to do this all again?

*(I think my mom mentioned she married quickly once she arrived but I’m not sure. She might have been a mail-order bride)

**to be fair, he also really tried to acclimatize to American culture, and only allowed English to be spoken in his house, and raised his kids Protestant, but my family still makes Italian food occasionally, sooooo I doubt that rule was equally enforced.

***My English grandparents divorced and my grandfather eventually moved to America. My dad and, at the time, his only siblings, came over to visit because America was still considered to be pretty cool. He was 13. My Nanny wanted more alimony, so she tried to do a fake out and telegraphed my grandfather to ‘keep the kids’. My Grandad called her bluff and kept the kids.

My Dad was very lucky this worked out for him. He gets away with a lot of things because he’s English in the USA

[lilgynt]

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. i forgot to update about so many life events

[yokelfelonking]

Post 9/11 Trivia

Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:

There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)

On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.

People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.

As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.

Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"

People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.

"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)

People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.

On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.

Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)

EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.

Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)

[luvjunie]

heyyy, idk if your request or open atm but could you write about miles (e-42) sneaking into the readers house at night, to hangout 🤗 nothing nasty LMFAOOO but like a cute lil moment

— 2:00 AM

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

contains: fluff, miles being a big baby because yes

summary: miles has a hard time falling asleep when you’re not next to him. wc: 1,205

a/n: i loveee soft 42!miles omfg 😭 also i realized i changed up the plot a little after i’d already written it and came back to find the request, so i hope you still like it <3

Tossing and turning instead of getting a full night’s rest seemed to be the norm for Miles as of late.

He laid on his back with an irked sigh, hands scrubbing down his face as he lightly groaned into them. There was no need for him to check the time, he already had a pretty accurate guess seeing as he’d been checking his phone every twenty minutes when his eyes would spring back open after another failed attempt to fall asleep.

He missed you. That he couldn’t deny. He’d made the mistake of falling asleep with you one night, and he’s found himself suffering through the same old routine ever since. He’d never slept as peacefully as he did than when he was next to you, and his mind craved your presence more than it craved sleep apparently. The both of you could’ve slept on concrete and he still would‘ve sworn it was more comfortable than his own bed.

It was a stupid idea, and had he not been desperate for a solution he would’ve realized that. But there was no one to talk him out of it as he got up from his bed and fished around in his dimly lit room for his jacket and a pair of nike slides, so it looked like he’d be going through with it anyway.

He scribbled a quick note for his mom onto a post-it note, stuck it to the fridge for her to find after her shift and left their apartment without another thought, making sure to lock the door behind him.

Night walks through Brooklyn didn’t scare him, in fact they calmed him. Everything was quieter at this time, slower— and he knew these streets like the back of his hand. And even if he didn’t, he was pretty good with the switchblade he kept in his pocket at all times. Your place was only a few blocks away, and even through the slight haze casted over him from his lack of rest, he was still vigilant as ever.

He climbed the fire escape just three stories up until he got to your window, using both his hands to hoist him over the steel railing, his feet landing on the old metal as quiet as he could make them.

He hoped that you still kept it unlocked for him, that your offer stood firm when you told him he was welcome anytime. He whispered a plea before he curled his fingers under the edge, sighing in relief when the window lifted open, though the unpleasant squealing due to the age of the pane made him wince.

The last thing he wanted to do was wake you, so he only lifted it halfway, ducking down and stepping into your room and out of the cold. He glanced over to see your cheek still smushed against your pillow, your legs probably tucked into the fetal position with the way your blankets were swaddled around you.

He managed to close the window without making a sound, but on his way over to your bed he accidentally bumped into your dresser, causing a bottle of perfume to clatter into the other objects you had up there.

“Fuck—“ he hissed quietly, twin braids following the act of his head whipping in your direction when you stirred.

You weren’t the lightest sleeper, but the noise had been enough to startle you awake. Lifting your head from the pillow, you sat up quickly, eyes adjusting to make out who the hunched figure was. The two of you had said goodnight just a few hours ago, and now here he was, in your room.

”Miles?” There was a slight rasp to your voice.

“Hey, ma…” he responded, hands nervously hovering over the mess he’d unintentionally created. He fixed it to the best of his ability, but it definitely wasn’t the way you had it before.

You reached over and turned your clock towards you, the bright white numbers making you screw an eye shut.

“Miles, baby, it’s two am in the morning,” you grumbled sleepily, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands and yawning. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

Blinking the sleep from your sight, you took in his slightly slouched disposition. He looked exhausted, annoyance from his sleepless night evident in the way he sighed.

”Nah, nah,” he shifted from foot to foot, hand hesitantly raising to scratch his head. His idea seemed sensible at first. He was willing to do anything to get some shut eye, and to see you again, but now he just felt silly for waking you up for no good reason.

“Nothing happened, but I—I couldn’t sleep for shit. So I just thought—“ he rubbed his brow and gave a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know, it’s stupid. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight and I just wanna be laid up with you. I really didn’t mean to wake you up and I can leave if—“

“It’s okay! It’s okay,” you cut his rambling short and opened up your blankets, scooting over to make room for him. “Come on.” Even in your drowsy state you could tell he was getting flustered trying to explain himself.

“Oh thank God,” he said beneath a breath as he shuffled his jacket and shoes off, eagerly slipping into your bed beside you.

You shifted back onto your side like you were before and pulled the blankets over the both of you, his arm instantly slinking around your waist to pull your body into his, your back against his chest.

“I love you so much.” he sighed tiredly.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath in through his nose just as your hand came up behind you to caress the top of his head. His behavior made it seem as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks; like he was trying to refresh his mind of every aspect of you.

“I love you too… Miles, are you sure you’re alright?” you asked, not yet all the way convinced.

“Mhm. Just needed to be with you.” he hummed, his words muffled as he pulled you closer.

“What about your mom? I don’t want her to be worried.”

He grunted at that, his response slurred and barely audible. “She know where I’m at.”

His fingers slipped under the waistband of your cotton sleep-shorts, hand traveling to the round of your lower stomach and resting over it. Why guys were so obsessed with the extra weight girls held there was still an anomaly to you. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, but he always threw a fit if you didn’t let him hold you like that so you allowed it.

“Goodnight, Miles.” You murmured into the stillness of your room.

Your eyes opened after receiving no response from him, and you were barely able to turn your head to look over your shoulder since his own was occupying the space there.

“Miles?” you questioned gently.

Your answer came in the form of faint snores and slowed breathing from the boy who was knocked out behind you, a smile inching onto your lips at how quickly he dozed off. You let your eyes flutter to a close, ready to fall asleep again, but this time in the arms of your favorite person.

[highvern]

When I Kissed the Teacher

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, humor

Summary: Mr. Kim has a crush, to his students that much is clear. It's also clear that you like him too. What happens when a group of meddlesome ten year olds decide to play cupid for their two favorite teachers?

Warnings: science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee

Length: ~5.2k

Note: it's here! thank you to @gyuwoncheol and @gyuswhore for beta reading and to my lovely @tomodachiii for fact checking my knowledge of primary school lol

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Turning from the white board, Mingyu faces the room full of weary children. Mondays are hard. Early mornings are hard. Learning the difference between reptiles and mammals first thing on Monday morning is downright torture. But it’s nothing a little bribery (read: candy) can't fix.

"Alright class, today we're learning about animals! Who remembers what a mammal is?"

Mingyu barely finishes his sentence before a sharp knock interrupts.

“Mr. Kim,” you seethe from the doorway.

Mingyu turns around immediately, eyes wide in fear at your tone. “Yes?”

“Can I speak with you? In the hallway?”

The class of ten year olds “ooooh” as their teacher trails after you like a kicked puppy. If they weren't awake before they sure are now. He shoots a silencing look back before dipping out the door where you wait, foot tapping impatiently.

“Would you like to explain where all my printer paper went?”

Mingyu tries to play dumb. “I don’t know?”

“Oh really?" You blink. "Because I found the box in the workroom and guess what was on the printer? More of your worksheets for your class!”

“How do you know they were for my class?”

You don’t answer, in favor of shoving the animal themed coloring sheets into his chest harshly.

“Listen, anyone could have…” He trails off under your withering glare.

“If you need paper, ask!”

Mingyu burns under the reprimand. “Oh, like you asked to use my paints last month?” 

“That was an accident!" you argue, eyes wide. "And I replaced them.”

“Alright, then I’ll replace the paper I took.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

With a curt nod, you turn to leave; unaware of the blushing cheeks and heart eyes following your retreating form. But the gaggle of elementary students waiting for Mingyu's return see them clear as day; their fits of shrill giggles and whispers falling on deaf ears as he shakes off the stars clouding his mind.

Mr. Kim, their goofy science teacher, has a crush. And like children are wont to do, they hatch a scheme to help him out.

—

“Alright. Do we remember the difference between fragments and sentences?”

The classroom ripples with tiny voices shouting “yes” with varying degrees of confidence. Their last quiz grades are proof they haven’t quite grasped the subject yet but that’s why you’re planning for an intensive review with them today.

“Awesome! So our warm up today should be a piece of cake. I’ll help with the first one so let's all look at the boa—”

A knock at the door cuts you off. Mingyu stands in the threshold, looking positively mischievous. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Ms. y/l/n. But can I speak with you in the hall?”

Forcing a smile, you respond. “Certainly. Class, why don’t you all work with your desk partner on the worksheet and when I come back we’ll go over the answers?”

They break into groups, chattering about everything but the work you’ve assigned; most notably the way Mr. Kim beams as you follow him outside. However, once you’ve crossed beyond the border of the brightly decorated room, twenty pairs of ears strain to hear why Mr. Kim interrupted their morning lesson.

“What's this about?” you ask.

Mingyu smiles, eyes shifting to the floor. “Here's the paper I owed you.” 

“You’re kidding.”

Three hefty boxes are stacked next to your door. It’s far more paper than Mingyu used for his color sheets, and more than you’d probably need for the rest of the semester.

“I thought you could use extra since you’re too stingy to share.”

“I’m not stingy!” You scoff.

Mingyu simply flashes another self-satisfied smile before heaving a box into his arms and carrying it into your classroom. He could certainly carry all three boxes at once; anytime there were desks or anything else remotely heavy to be moved, Mingyu did so with ease. But the kids don’t think anything of the way he so obviously drags out the torture.

The kids watch Mr. Kim weave through the maze of tables towards the back of the room.

“Lia, can you open the door for me please?”

The little girl jumps from her desk and bolts for the supply closet, braids bouncy with each step.

“In here okay?” Mingyu asks.

Blinking from your stupor, you turn back to your desk as you answer. “Yeah, it’s…whatever.” 

Your class stopped their work to focus on the unfolding drama between their two favorite teachers. They don’t know why you can’t seem to stand their science teacher, and it’s anyone’s guess why Mr. Kim has decided to interrupt their grammar lesson for something so silly. But it’s clear that whenever you two meet an argument is clear to follow. And in the guidebook of elementary school, if you like a girl, you always argue with them.

So enthralled in your silent battle of wits with the peppy man, you miss the two girls plotting in the corner.

Hana turns to her friends with breakneck speed. “Did you see the way Mr. Kim smiled at her?”

“He’s so in love,” Arin sighs dreamily.

“And Miss y/l/n is blushing! We should help them.”

Their whispers are cut off when you clap. “Alright! Back to work!”

Mingyu lingers by the front until you forcibly shoo him away, huffing at the permanent smile stretched across his lips even when the door slams in his face.

“Meet at the tree during recess.” 

The two girls nod and return to their worksheets.

A new week comes with new challenges. Today’s is the universe’s determination to make your life as difficult as possible.

Your alarm didn’t go off, your shoddy dryer left you with damp clothes, and your car battery decided a short strike would be a great way to start the freezing morning. There was barely time to wash your face with cold tap water let alone put on makeup or style your hair. To top it all off, the green lunchbox with leftovers from your favorite restaurant sits on the shelf of your fridge which means the crumbled granola bar at the bottom of your purse will finally see the light of day.

Flicking on the lights, you rush to prepare for the day. By the grace of god your first period is planning time so no students witness your near breakdown from the absolute shit storm of the morning. Not much is to be done since you already organized everything you needed Friday afternoon but the tense events of the day leave you feeling off. Not even a cup of coffee with the creamer you reserve for days like these helps the overwhelming unease rippling in the back of your throat.

Your allotted private time washes by and before you know it, a gaggle of students filters into your room, giddy on holiday spirit and sugar. The first five minutes of class are spent reminding them their butts belong in chairs at their own stations, that the warmup is for them to complete on their own, and if they aren’t feeling well enough to do classwork they need to go to the nurse.

Twenty minutes into the lesson and the worksheet for their quiz on Friday finally manages to capture their attention. A few students struggle but most are sailing through. Its the same material as last week just with a new puzzle for them to complete once they have all the correct answers.

“Alright, who can tell me what word fits for number six?” you ask.

The attentiveness you’ve sweated to cultivate all morning dissolves when a volunteer knocks to distribute candy-grams.

“Delivery!” a young woman sings as she enters, dressed in red from head to toe with heart shaped sunglasses and a sparkly headband. Her wicker basket flows with candy bars wrapped with shiny ribbon and cardstock penned with confessions.

The shrill symphony of oohs and ahhs as the kids receive pieces of candy raises the vein on your temple. 

“And for Ms. y/l/n!” the young woman sing-songs, heart headband bouncing as she approaches your desk.

The cardstock reads one of the cheesy messages the school provides for the Valentine cards they sell as a yearly fundraiser.

‘I like you a choco-lot! - your secret admirer’ 

You throw it into a drawer in your desk, oblivious to the crestfallen faces of two little girls watching with rapt attention. 

“I don’t think she likes chocolate,” Arin whispers.

“No. Remember during Halloween? She said her favorite candy is Twix. She gave Gabi an extra point on the spelling test when she brought in her halloween candy and gave them to her.” 

“Well maybe she’s mad because it wasn’t a Twix!”

“Maybe. But Mr. Kim didn’t react to the note on his desk this morning either,” Hana huffs. “But he was late so maybe he didn’t see it.”

Your second attempt to put class back on track falls flat. Instead of group review, kids come up to your desk one by one to check their answers while you nurse your headache until the bell dismisses everyone to their next destination. Another crop of students flood the seats, emotions running high from who did and didn’t receive candy in their last class. Two students end up arguing about who knows what and then proceed to break into frustrated tears.

You bite your tongue to stop from doing the same and put on one of the movies you reserve for days like these.

When Mingyu walks into your room after school ends and all the kids are dismissed for pick up, you give him a look that sends him turning around and exiting the way he came without a word.

Tuesday brings a better attitude. Mostly because you get to take all of your class to the library for silent reading. But the homemade stirfry sitting in your lunch box in the teacher’s lounge helps too.

Your second period kids spread out through the room, some sprawled across the worn rugs on their bellies while others curl up in the much coveted bean bags; a few choose to hide between the imposing bookshelves, crowded on all sides by the smell of old paper. 

With an overly sweetened latte sitting in one hand, and a new novel in the other, you perch at the long table near the librarian's desk to ‘supervise.’

“How did you manage to get a copy of The Gate? I couldn’t even get the pre-order before it sold out.” Elise, the librarian, asks. 

You smile into your coffee cup before responding. “Eh, I know a guy.”

“You do? I thought you didn’t date?”

“I don’t.” You nod. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t have connections.”

“Well whoever your ‘connection’ is, send them my way when you're done with him.”

You pretend to ponder before answering, “I’ll think about it.”

Snapping your book shut, you rise to gather the kids to return back to class. It takes several minutes as a few refuse to join the line until their current chapter is finished and Kai pulls out the puppy dog eyes, begging to stay all day to finish his book. 

You corral them out the door with promises of more reading time on Friday if they behave well the rest of the week. Some roll their eyes but most nod enthusiastically at the opportunity to skip on their weekly quiz.

Unlocking the door, you unpack your things and find a basket of Valentine’s on your desk to be passed out. Almost all the kids receive at least one, some find two or even three heart shaped sugar cookies on their desk. Your heart squeezes when some of the students decide to divy up their cookies and gift them to the students who didn’t receive a note. 

The last cookie at the bottom of the basket has a note with your name on it and a message in the same swirly script as yesterday’s.

We go together like milk and cookies. - your secret admirer

As far as cheesy Valentine’s go, you’ve seen worse. But free snacks are free snacks and the confection tastes great dipped in your coffee.

Your fourth period class focuses on their worksheets, silently deciphering the reading and ticking of questions. You promised whatever group finished first with the most right answers gets a special Valentine treat; full sized candies and extra credit on Friday. 

Whatever it takes to keep them focused while you work through grading everything for your other classes.

You don’t notice the man waiting at the door until one of your kids greet their science teacher; a ripple of tiny ‘Hi, Mr. Kim!’s following. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mingyu announces from the door. “But, ugh, the volunteer accidentally gave me this.”

“Oh! Thanks Min—Mr. Kim.” 

You take the can of orange soda from his hand and skim the note.

I have a ‘crush’ on you. - your secret admirer

None of the students can read the note from their seats but you and Mr. Kim look equally bashful. 

“What are you guys working on? Mingyu asks, hoping to diffuse the tension.

A cacophony of voice race to explain their assignment. Mingyu pretends to understand, smiling at their enthusiasm and grabbing a worksheet for himself. 

He plants himself in one of the tiny plastic chairs next to your desk meant for ten year olds rather than a grown man of his size. It’s comical the way his knees brush his chest and any small move across the slippery seat threatens to land him on the floor.

Reviewing the sheet, Mingyu announces, “Alright, how about if you guys finish your work before me, we can have a pizza party in my class on Friday?”

More screams bounce off the walls.

“You guys can’t finish if you’re talking to Mr. Kim,” you remind them.

The room descends into a cozy calm; the sound of pencils on paper, your keyboard clicks, and the soft jazz from the computer speakers blending together.

You don’t look up to grab the answer key from the corner of the desk, Mingyu huffing from his seat at being caught.

“No cheating,” you smirk under your breath.

“Creative strategy,” he argues.

Instead of answering you shake your head and continue to focus on your own tasks. 

Ten minutes and twenty emails later, two groups of students rise and approach your desk at the same time. 

“We finished first!”

“No, we did!”

“Guys,” you interrupt them. “I’ll grade them both and whoever has more right wins. Besides, Mr. Kim owes you a pizza party anyway.”

The entire class cheers at the news while Mingyu playfully pouts. Maybe if he hadn’t given up on his worksheet to snoop through the basket full of snacks on your bookshelf, he wouldn’t be eating his own words.

The second group of students to approach your desk ends up victorious. You mark down their candy orders to pick up on your weekly grocery shopping trip on Thursday night before sending them to back up their belongings so you can all head to the cafeteria.

“What’d you bring for lunch?” Mingyu asks as he walks with you to the teachers lounge to retrieve your lunch boxes.

“Pasta salad.”

“Wanna trade?” 

“What’d you bring?” you ask, handing him the black grocery bag you know carries his lunch.

“Pasta salad.”

You roll your eyes and kick the fridge shut.

—

After lunch you have another free period. The printing room is empty so you take advantage and make enough copies for the rest of the week. Perhaps Mingyu wasn’t wrong to bring you three boxes of paper.

Lugging the stack in hand, you turn down that hall only to find a familiar face standing guard outside your classroom.

“Arin? Why are you in the hallway? You should be in class.”

“I was just…going to the bathroom!”

“Really? Because there's a bathroom right outside Mrs. Lee’s classroom if I remember correctly.”

“It was gross!”

Considering Mrs. Lee’s classroom sits on the main hallway and intersects with two other grades, it probably looked more akin to a battlefield than a restroom at this time of day.

“Okay…but hurry back. And I’m gonna let Mrs. Lee know what took you so long so she isn’t worried.” 

You side step around her but she moves right into your path. And then again. And again.

“Arin, what are you doing?” 

“Sorry, Ms. y/l/n. I don’t feel good. Can you walk me to the nurse?”

Crouching to her height, you rest the back of your hand against her forehead. Arin never admits she doesn’t feel well even when she’s tinged green and hacking up a lung. It’s the perfect admission to keep you from peering past the threshold of your classroom and blowing the entire operation.

Until a loud crash and high pitched scream breaks the silence of the hallway.

You jump back up.“What the—”

“Wait!” Arin shouts, throwing her arms and legs wide to block your path like a three foot tall ‘X’.

“Arin, what is going on?” 

“Mr. Kim said animals make themselves bigger to be scarier,” Arin says, tiny face scowling.

“And why are you trying to scare me?” 

Another bang echoes out the classroom forcing you to pick the little girl up by her armpits and carry her inside with you. She slips from your hold as you stare with a wide mouth at the scene. A desk is pulled up to the board allowing Hana to balance atop it as she scribbles across the chalkboard.

Wil you be my Valintin? - Mr. K

“Hana! What are you doing?”

“Arin!” Hana huffs indignantly.

Arin opens her mouth to respond but the look on your face silences both girls. You help Hana down from the desktop before crossing your arms in front of you and taking a deep breath.

“Sit. Now.”

They trudge to the seats next to your desk; heads hung low, tears brimming in their eyes. Neither has been on the receiving end of such a reprimand before; they’re usually your best behaved students.

You allow them to stew in silence as you right the two chairs Hana knocked over. She doesn’t look injured which is a relief but your nerves are shot from the perplexing situation. Hana and Arin can be troublemakers but they’ve never done anything like this before.

Once you're certain the urge to yell at them is quelled you approach your desk and take a seat. You watch them expectantly. Arin chances a glance up and swiftly looks back to her lap while Hana focuses on the picture at the edge of your desk, blinking away tears.

“Girls,” you sigh. “What were you doing in here?”

“Ms. y/l/n,” Arin blubbers.

Presenting the tissue box, you wait several moments while they both dab their eyes and blow their noses before speaking again.

“We just thought…” Hana starts, glancing at the other girl.

“Thought what?”

“Mr. Kim’s in love with you and we wanted to help!”

“I see.” You nod. “Did Mr. Kim tell you that?”

They look at each other before shaking their heads ‘no.’

Your temple throbs from the situation. A measured breath through your nose sends the girls into a frenzy.

“We can tell!”

“You’re perfect for eachother!”

“And did Mr. Kim ask you to sneak into my classroom while I wasn’t here?”

“No ma’am,” they mumble in unison.

It dawns on you that the two girls have been behind all the gifts you’ve received this week.“Are you two behind all the Valentine’s I’ve gotten?”

“We were just trying to help!” cries Arin.

Moving to crouch in front of them, you wait until they both look up at you.

“It’s very sweet what you were trying to do and I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you can’t sneak out of class. What if something happened and you got hurt climbing the table?”

“I’m sorry,.” Hana says.

“Me too.” 

You pass them more tissues to wipe their noses.

“How about we get you two back to class?”

“But what about Mr. Kim?”

“Yeah! He needs to know how you feel.”

“That’s between Mr. Kim and I. Understand? Those are grown up things.”

The repulsion painting their faces forces you to bite back a snort. Instead you offer your hands, pinkies extended towards them both.

“How ‘bout this? I promise to talk to Mr. Kim if you two promise no more meddling. Okay?”

All three of you share a smile as you intertwine their pinkies with your own. 

“Now,” you say whilst jumping to your feet. “You are supposed to be in Mrs. Lee’s class. And you are supposed to be at the library.”

Escorting them both back to where they belong, they can’t help but giggle when you pass Mr. Kim’s room and he waves. The question is clear on his face but you shrug your shoulders. 

You’ll explain everything later.

You smile knowingly at the corner of the classroom where two little cupids sit as the volunteer brings you a lollipop with a note reading ‘I’m a sucker for you.’

Part of you feels guilty they pooled their own money together to supply you and the teacher next door with treats all week in an effort to play matchmaker. But another part can’t help but laugh. And when you get the chance to tell Mingyu what they’ve planned you’ll no doubt laugh harder.

But because the universe somehow knows you lied to your students the day prior you find your reckoning in the cafeteria.

It was Mingyu’s fault. Or at least that’s what you argue. You barely made it three steps inside the room before the large man bulldozes you; sending his lunch and your own down your fronts in a palette of greens and browns.

His eyes widen in horror as a slice of tomato peels off your shirt and flops to the floor. “I am so sorry!”

“Seriously?” you choke.

The entire school watches with baited breath. Students and teachers alike watch with abject horror as you skirt around the taller man and flee with shaking shoulders and your chin dipped into your chest. Mingyu gapes like a fish as you run by, frozen in place. As hundreds of eyes settle on him, he realizes they all saw how he drenched you in salad and coffee. 

Mrs. Lee dismisses him with a nod, silently agreeing to watch his class so he can trapeze out to his car and find something suitable to wear.

—

Mingyu watches the game of kickball unfold across the field, keeping an eye on the rowdier students as they pick teams. But even from a distance he recognizes one face is notably absent.

He finds Kai slumped on a bench at the far corner of the playground using a stick to draw lines in the dirt at his feet.

“Hey, buddy. You feeling okay?” Mingyu asks. 

Kai never misses a game of kickball. Even when his arm was in a cast at the beginning of the year, he insisted he only needed one good arm to play defense and neither to play offense. Kai’s mom simply laughed at Mingyu’s concerned email and said her son was exactly like his dad and there was no stopping him if he was set on something.

So to have the little curly haired boy isolated on the far edge of the field is serious cause for concern.

Kai looks up briefly at Mingyu’s approach before returning to his mud art. “Mr. Kim, have you ever liked someone?”

“Liked someone?” Mingyu drops onto the bench next to him.

“Like,” the little boy inhales trying to explain himself. “Like a girl?”

Mingyu snuffs out his chuckle at Kai’s innocent question. “Yeah, why do you ask? Do you like a girl?”

“I–My friend does!”

“Okay,” Mingyu nods.

“And he doesn’t know how to tell her.”

“Well that's tough.” 

“How’d you tell the girl you liked?”

“Well,” Mingyu drops to a whisper. “Once upon a time, I had a crush on this girl. And she was the prettiest girl I ever saw. Smart and funny too.”

“Did she run fast?”

The question confuses Mingyu at first but then he remembers he’s talking to a ten year old and the rules of attraction hinge on who gets the swing the highest and jumps off.

“She ran really fast,” he nods. “And she made me so nervous I couldn’t talk to her. My palms got all sweaty and my face turned red.”

“That happens to m—I mean my friend!”

“And it feels like there's a bunch of frogs jumping around your stomach?”

“Yeah,” Kai nods. “So how’d you tell her?”

“Well one day, I finally decided to introduce myself. Walked right up to her, opened my mouth and…poof.”

“Poof?”

“Poof.” Mingyu hangs his head. “I forgot everything I was gonna say to her.”

“What happened after that?”

“She waited a few minutes and then said ‘okay, I’ll meet you at 6:30 for dinner.’”

“She knew you liked her?”

Mingyu nods gravely before imparting his most sage wisdom. “Girls are very smart, Kai.”

“So I should try and tell her I like her?”

“Your friend should at least try,” Mingyu shrugs.

Kai blushes, having been clearly caught. “But what if she doesn’t like him back?”

“That’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim. You’re the best!”

“You’re welcome, buddy.” Mingyu gives him a fist bump before shooing him back towards his friends. “Now go play kickball, the boys need your help.”

Kai runs off but a new presence fills the vacant seat on the bench. 

“I thought we agreed to keep our romantic life a secret at work.”

Mingyu smiles sheepishly before turning to look at you. “Oh, you heard that?” 

“Yeah, I heard,” you smile. “They already think you have a crush on me.”

“Smart kids.” He says, enjoying the way the worn sage button up swallows your figure. 

Mingyu loves when you wear his clothes, he told you this morning when you stole his favorite jacket. Which is why you both took almost twenty minutes to gain your composure after he spilled an entire tray of food on you. 

Mingyu swears he didn’t do it on purpose. How could he have known you were coming through the door at that very moment? But he’d do it again if it meant seeing you in one of the spare shirts he keeps in the truck again. Even if it meant he’d also sustain minor coffee burns.

“They think I have a crush on you too.”

You watch the way he traces your collar bone, catching the twinkle of the diamond pendant resting at the hollow of your throat; his birthstone. It was the first piece of jewelry he bought you when you started dating almost a decade ago. 

You hadn’t taken it off since the day he gave it to you with shaky hands and red ears.

“Do you?” He asks.

“Do I, what?”

“Have a crush on me?”

“Oh Gyu,” you coo at him. “I have the fattest crush on you.”

“Damn right you do.”

Sitting outside with an entire audience of other teachers and students doesn’t allow either of you to fall into the familiar comfort of adorning kisses or airtight hugs. But Mingyu’s pinky brushing yours in the ample space between your figures is enough for now.

Friday is Valentine’s day which means all the kids don red and pink outfits and prepare for a day of candy filled fun. You spent all morning helping the art teacher set up paint stations. Why she cashed in on the long owed favor with such a simple task was beyond you but the monotony is a nice change from the chaos you’ve experienced all week. When second period rolls around, you shuffle back to your classroom; welcomed by the line of students waiting outside your locked door. 

“I swear! I saw Mr. Kim and Ms. y/l/n at the grocery store last night.”

“Hana, Ms. y/l/n said its grown up business. Maybe you just saw people that look like them,” Arin shrugs. “And I don’t wanna get in trouble again.”

“It had to be them!”

They quiet down as they walk past your figure, smiling like cherubs when you greet them.

Students file in one by one, shrill voices echoing from excitement. Most cheer about their pizza party with Mr. Kim later that afternoon, a few squeals about the set of Valentine’s their parents sent with them to handout. 

Your ears catch a few other snippets of conversation as you wait for the stragglers to make it by. 

“Oh my gosh those are so pretty!”

“Those look like the flowers my mommy likes!”

Curiosity gets the better of you, forcing you to step into the room and see what the kids are talking about. 

An explosion of pink camellias resting on your desk. Huge blossoms with pale pink petals spill over the sides of the vase, slips of greenery sprinkled throughout. Approaching your desk, the floral aroma fills your nose. The blooms feel like soft velvet under the pad of your finger tracing the largest one in the center of the arrangement.

Who on earth?

As if on cue a mop of black hair peaks in from the hall. Mingyu eyes the bouquet and the pleased look on your face before allowing his own to break into his infamous smile.

“Just wanted to make sure they got here safe,” he calls.

You whip your head up, eyes wide and mouth open at the can of worms he just spilled.

“What?” Mingyu asks innocently. “Can’t a man buy his fiancee flowers?”

He disappears with a wink but his laughter at the chaos he’s stirred up can be heard miles away.

“MISS Y/L/N YOU’RE MARRIED?” Mark screams.

Another shrill voice answers, “Fiancee means they’re almost married, idiot!” 

“You lied to us!” Arin and Hana chorus.

Dropping into your chair, you hide your burning face in your hands. Coincidentally it also hides your shy grin from the hoard of ten year olds jumping in their seats at the news.Mingyu is in so much trouble.

A few weeks before the new school year starts, a group of nearly eleven year olds crowd into the pews of the massive church at the center of town. Stained glass reflects patterns over the marble floors, casting them in a rainbow of colors. 

Some sit on their hands to calm the adrenaline pumping through their tiny veins. Others rock back and forth in an effort to watch Mr. Kim strut down the aisle in a fancy looking suit. 

But all of them gasp when you turn the corner.

You look like a real life princess in your wedding dress, floating towards their science teacher waiting at the altar with tears and a smile matching your own.

When you and Mr. Kim kiss, the girls squeal and the boys blush.

Several rows ahead sits a small group of older students, who’ve long graduated elementary school and are headed to college in a few days. They exchange satisfied smiles and pat themselves on the back for getting their favorite fourth grade teachers together all those years ago.

Maybe now your new classes won’t try playing Cupid like they do every year given Mr. Kim finally married their favorite teacher.

-

Fic taglist: @tacosandbitch @leechanniee @syprosight @prettygyuuu @itza-meee @cottoncheol @ashluvy @jkslvsnella @xuimhao @vanishingboots @miujunhui @viciousdarlings @imprettyweird @akeminy @sana-is-ms-rmty @jayfrvr @watermelonsugawara @bouclesdefeu

Permanent taglist:

@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[voguesriot]

SUNBURN ✹ luke castellan

( summary ) a social media au about chb’s fav couple (& their fav shitstirrer, aka percy jackson)

( pairing ) luke castellan x fem aphrodite cabin-coded!reader & small bits of baby percabeth

( notes ) first post ahhh!!! this was so fun to make

♫ Ant Pile by Dominic Fike

♡ liked by wisegirll , silenabeauregard , and others

yourusername my bf is hot but dominic fike if u wanna hmu i can ditch him it’s no biggie 😁🫶

lukecastellan EXCUSE ME

lukecastellan you already completed your rite of passage why do you need to break my heart 😔💔

yourusername want me to kiss that bruised ego better?

lukecastellan sigh… i guess…

seaweedbrain BOOO TOMATO TOMATO BOOOOO

seaweedbrain get his ass off my screen 🤣🤣

lukecastellan sparring arena. you and me. now.

groverunderwood bros rlly beefing with a 13 yr old

seaweedbrain the typa guy to tell me to kms bcs i voted him out in roblox total drama island

clarisselarue this would’ve been so much better without the second slide

yourusername no more like content from here on out 🙅‍♀️

lukecastellan wtf???

yourusername sorry babe i don’t argue with girls who have big brown eyes, whatever she wants she’s gonna get

silenabeauregard YOU LOOK SO CUTESY

yourusername I LOVE U 🥹❤️‍🩹

chrisrodriguez lukecastellan bro ik nobody else here fw you, but i’ll always fw you 💗

lukecastellan you’re a real one bro 👊

aphroditecamper1 u guys are so cute ☹️

♫ Babydoll by Dominic Fike

♡ liked by cbeckendorf , connorstroll , and others

lukecastellan yeah your girl might have a general grasp on battle strategies or whatever but can she bring an oddly unsettling vibe and a cute smile to the function? DIDNT THINK SO ‼️‼️‼️

seaweedbrain put a shirt on man nobody wants to be seeing all that trust 🙏

lukecastellan i wonder if your dad would’ve stayed if you weren’t such a hater

seaweedbrain i wonder if your dad wouldn’t have become the ten dollar founding father if you mom swallowed

yourusername woah…

seaweedbrain when he goes low i go LOWER

wisegirll too far percy

seaweedbrain sorry ma’am

clarisselarue this would’ve been so much better without the second slide

lukecastellan it’s my account???

clarisselarue i stand by what i said.

chrisrodriguez yk i can bring an oddly unsettling vibe too and my ma said my smiles pretty cute so…

yourusername yeah you bring such a crazy vibe!!

chrisrodriguez now that’s just rude

yourusername tried to be a homewrecker but you got wrecked instead 🤷‍♀️

wisegirll yourusername your lashes look so good!!!!

yourusername MY BABY THANK U I LOVE U UR MY FAV PERSON EVER

clarisselarue WTF???

silenabeauregard WTF?????

seaweedbrain WTF????

lukecastellan i’m used to this by now 😔💔🥀

♫ Woman Screaming #2 by Anton Hughes

♡ liked by wisegirll , racheledare , and others

seaweedbrain does he just not own a shirt… COVER YOUR BOOBS SIR PLEASE THERE ARE CHILDREN

lukecastellan why are you taking pics of us having a nap… fan behaviour icl

seaweedbrain i needed proof to file a police report against you for theft

lukecastellan how did you know??

seaweedbrain i was talking ab stealing my innocence but what were you thinking…

yourusername wait perce can you send me the second pic it’s so cute

yourusername send the first one too actually please

seaweedbrain pick yourself up you’re stronger than this what happened to women who stand on business 😔

yourusername i was standing!!! but then my feet hurt and he picked me up :)

seaweedbrain sigh

chrisrodriguez bros looking fine oh my gods

lukecastellan don’t matter if i’ve got a world of haters, i got you by my side

yourusername i’m just gonna leave…

clarisselarue yourusername just saying i’d never pull that shit

lukecastellan ok joke over ha ha funny

wisegirll percy this is a bit stalkerish 😭

seaweedbrain i’m sorry you’re right

this post has been deleted.

[inupibaldspot]

Even 12 years laters,your soul was in a color of kindness.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : purely self indulgent which I wrote when I was drunk so— some stuffs are funky

Gojo first met you when you where four.

He was five years old at that time too and was being escorted by a maid to go to the clan head meeting; he assumes you were also part of a clan brought by elders.

Normally, the white haired boy never really cared for other people. Why should he? He is the chosen one. He has the limitless technique plus the six eyes of the Gojo clan. He was the closest thing to God at this age. But today it was different.

He watched you turn your head around and stare at him, he could vividly remember the way your eyes shone with amazement either for something as superficial like his white hair or the fact he was recognized as The ‘Gojo Satoru.’

But after that amazement, you smiled. You smiled at him so bright, with the evening glow of sunlights made you so—so ethereal. Your smile was childish and that’s why it was simply pure; the white haired kid’s eyes silhouetted with the sunlight shone with surprise for he found you beautiful in ways he couldn’t describe.

Gojo looks away— he beat himself for looking away as that made him look standoffish. When he looks back, you were staring at him confused for why he didn’t greet you back.

The maid beside you turns and says something, as you nod and then walk away. Was it weird for Gojo to wish you would simply turn to him and introduce yourself? For years to come, he prayed that he’d love to hear your name; for your soul was in a color of kindness.

That chance came in twelve years later when he was a second year of his Jujutsu Tech. Him and his friends, Geto and Shoko wanted to meet the new first years. There is Nanami Kento, had a huge stick up his ass but that it self made him to be forever victim to Gojo’s pranks. Next was Haibara Yū, a bright eyed kid but Gojo found him to be a bit too— energetic for his taste.

And then you. I didn’t really need to describe Nanami and Haibara first because the first and only person he saw ever since he entered the first year’s classroom was you. Simply you. You sitting on the chair smiling bashfully at them. At him.

Ever since, every day. Without fail would rush to your side. At first you were confused as that is not the Gojo you remembered l; the one you saw and described to you by others were not this.

Nevertheless it warmed you up like a cool evening sun.

Gojo released quite early was you were kind, the type that would help others despite of her time , the type who would help every elderly by the street, the type who would feed strays and yada-yada-flowers and rainbows.

But that led to another realization. Had you truly different been treated differently?

Gojo's body tensed up. Any comfortable vibe he had felt before vanishing in an instant. He had known very well that you were a kind-hearted human being. Welcoming and warm. That made you so interesting. Your soul was so calm and simple and nice.

And even though he had observed you so closely before he wasn't able to recall any moment anymore where your own feelings had been obvious. You didn't stutter around boys.

You didn't blush. You didn't hesitate in a way which could be trailed back to her personal feelings.

Were you treating him like everyone else after all?

“Gojo?”

Your voice brought him back to sense, you were blinking curious, leaned close—so close.”what’s wrong?”

“Bring out your hand.” He smiles, as you did without question. “Guess the word I’m writing on your hand.” He smiles when the warmth from your hand soothe his nervous heartbeat.

“Eh—I’m not good at kanji!”

“That’s just too bad—!”

From then when ever Gojo feels anxious of everything—everything in this world he would play this game, with your fingers and her palm because his focus on you was more gravitating rather than that as you were simply too calming.

Geto felt slightly hesitant when he saw the type of Gojo he would become when he was by your side, he was a tad abit careless as if all of his six eyes were simply focused on you, he would be a tad bit kinder to the point Nanami gets the ick.

Where as Shoko had a blast!

She would make way towards you, give kisses on your cheeks gushing on how cute you were, wrapping her arms around you as she then sends a condescending look towards Gojo who was literally drowning in jealousy.

Shoko and you got close early on and more so because you two were the only two girls in those years. To the point where even a shy person like you was influenced to sneaking into a party with Shoko.

“Please don’t mess with my hair curler, Gojo.” You say as you look into the mirror, fixing your earring and from the corner of your eyes you could see Gojo holding up a lick of his hair into the hot iron.

Gojo peers over and immediately regrets it, you were in a short dress and high heel, hair curled so—cutely and boy, your face.

He looks away.

No, too cute.

He thought as he lets down the curling iron. Shoko peers out as she lets out a puff of smoke before passing it to Geto, who takes the cigarette in his hands. “Don’t tell me you want to come Gojo.” Shoko says. “I want a girls night.”

Gojo remember almost comically crying into his pillows as Geto nags him on ‘how woman don’t like clingy guys.’ He decides to forget Shoko and join you guys anyways.

He remembers being strangled by Shoko while you him a nervous smile trying to diffuse the situation.

Your nervous smile which made the world freeze to him, Geto sighs at the love sick look his white haired friend was giving you, who seemed so obvious to.

But don’t you remember when I said you were kind. You were kind like to help the cornered kid, the type who would volunteer to be with the loner kid, the type that picked Geto Suguru’s side.

Gojo sighs when when remembers Shoko saying you said something along the lines of ‘I don’t want Geto to be lonely along the path he takes…’

How stupid!

Gojo Satoru where ever he went would go around town mentally keeping sense of any cursed energy which could relay you back to him.

He meets you again though.

12 years later, while him and now—principle Yaga were walking along the hallways they sense a breach in security. He rushes over to first, see his once best-friend Geto Suguru by his current first year Okkotsu Yuta and secondly, you. Your eyes we’re nervously flying around before it lands on him and once again he was yours; Geto scoffs at the sight of Gojo’s expression when he was looking at you. He was almost worried that if you said ‘let’s join Geto’ with a plea—se, he just might. You just had that effect on Gojo.

But too bad, Geto was here to request war upon the Jujutsu Tech. On the 24 December, Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

Gojo rushes through curses as he makes his way towards you; and when he does, he feels as if he can’t breath. “Can you come back…?” He takes a step closer.

You smile nervously,shaking your head as you watch him take another step closer to you, you felt his hands reach out and cup your face. His face was so close to yours, you could feel the warmth radiate off him in the cold winter air. “Don’t kill me for doing this.” You we’re reminded that you guys were enemies and in a battlefield.

His face was closer now, his blue—beautiful blue eyes were slightly closed. You breath out. “I can’t kill you through your ‘Limitless’ Satoru…”

“Say it again.”

“Huh…?”

“My name. Satoru…”

You breath out. “Satoru…” The name you accidentally let out, felt so right.

“Fuck… say it a million time more, love.” Gojo laughs, slightly hoarse. “My limitless is never activated when I’m with you…”

before you realize his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, as you hands were tentatively placed on his chest, as his hand trails along to your waist you parts your lips for him, sighs in his mouth, and that small sound of pleasure drives him crazy, floods his body with heat and desire so intense the strongest sorcerer can hardly stand.

Your are pulled away from him, when a darker and tall man goes by. “Miguel!” Gojo listened to you say.

“I need you to focus.” The man says smiling, before he takes a stance to fight Gojo. And to Miguel credit, he does fend off Gojo well, so— well that he was ‘recruited’ by him.

The day ends with Gojo losing two of his best friends in different ways. Geto would be gone, into the afterlife ended by his own hands.

But you?

Where were you? Would he meet you again 12 years later? Love?

[zyafics]

play fake | part two

series play fake — ( masterlist )

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole

zya's notes instead of studying for my chem final, i was writing this for u guys, hope u like it! <3

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

You didn't want to ask Rafe for help.

You never like doing it in general. The concept is foreign to you and it makes your skin crawl with a sense of dread, but you were desperate.

He hasn't come back to your bar in a while; probably off finding a new replacement for a fake girlfriend. Before, you hadn't given it much thought. You did decline. However, now, you wish he hadn't found one yet. Now, the offer sounds appetizing given the situation you're in.

You need to get in contact with him. You knew that showing up to the Tannyhill estate would raise questions but you didn't know where he would be. An idea suddenly popped up in your head and you decided to scroll through social media and find the nearest Kook party. You found one, just uploaded fifteen minutes ago, at Topper's house.

Parking in the street, you stare at the party in full swing. It has been a while since you've been to a party—too focused on working full-time at Sailor and taking care of your siblings—and the idea of going in unnerves you. You were still in uniform, well, it's something you try to wear everyday to get tips. A simple black crop top and a mini skirt. You find it ironic that you were at least dressed for the part.

Leveling some confidence, you push open the creaky door of your old car and head inside. It is absolutely crowded with people, with girls and guys drinking and dancing outside in the yard, near the pool, on the porch. Your eyes glaze over every single one of them, trying to find the one person you hope would be here.

You find Rafe near the back porch of the mansion. He's with a couple of his buddies, Topper being among them, and a girl on his arm as he holds a beer with the same hand. You weren't surprised in the slightest. This was his plan after all. You were just surprised by the feeling in your stomach.

The lick of jealousy you didn't understand where it came from.

You step up. His friends were the first to notice you, scanning over your body that you wish you had worn a jacket over yourself. When you are just in front of him, his gaze finally focuses and meets your gaze.

"Can we talk?" You ask, sparing no attention to the girl on him.

He scoffs, "fuck off."

Of course he's going to be an asshole. You didn't bother with entertaining his comment by grabbing his arm, pulling him up. You knew you didn't have the strength to take him completely so you were pleasantly surprised when he assisted and got up. He even pushed the girl to the side as you dragged him off to somewhere quiet.

Well, as quiet as the live party can be.

"What do you want?"

His words are sharp and harsh, but you expected nothing less. You figured something happened—that's why he entertains his vices, right?—and plus, you told him that you wanted nothing to do with him. If anything, he has a bit of justification to be pissed.

But that doesn't mean you would accept it.

"I was going to talk to you about your offer, but seeing as you're being too much of an ass, I guess I should come back another time," you snap, turning around to head out because fuck him. You weren't going to take it. You had other things to do. You would be forgiving, perhaps, if he actually talked to you about his problem but to be a dick off the bat? Not a chance in hell.

"Wait," he grabs your arm before you move far and this contrasts the strength you hold. One hand and a lazy attempt to hold you in place. "What do you want?"

He said that somewhat nicer.

You turn back with a glare, contemplating what to do, before remembering what's at stake. You're already here. Might as well get it over with.

"I'll do it." You say, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. It’s so embarrassing to ask for help. It feels even more so to backtrack into something you said you couldn't—wouldn't—do. "Be your fake girlfriend, I mean."

The corner of his lips quirks into an amused smile. Even in his drunk state, where his blond hair is darkened from the humidity of the space and his eyes glossed over, you can't help but admit how attractive he is. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"I'm not trying to be the next Mrs. Cameron," you snap, feeling the need to clarify. "But, I do need the payout."

His eyes narrow. "Thought you didn't want it?"

"I don't," you answer. "It's something else."

He tilts his head to the side, studying you. "What?"

Sighing, you wished you could talk somewhere more private. But, this truly is the best place you can get him. "When you get your father's company and start doing all the Kook bullshit of hosting charity events, galas, and dinners, I want you to use Sailor as your drink caterer."

It sounded like a good deal when you thought of it. You didn't want the money because you don't know how long this little facade is going to last. You needed something stable. You need something that would benefit you in the long-run. Since Sailor has been slipping off the profit margins and you've been dealing with some trouble regarding its ownership, you figured the business from all the catering would boost it up. It would give you status and credit. It would benefit you long after this engagement with Rafe ends.

His eyes look thoughtful of the idea. You wonder how he's calculating, how he's weighing the options about whether to accept your negotiation or to decline—telling you he already found a replacement. You hope it wasn't the latter. You needed this.

"No."

You clench your jaw. Of course. The one time you sought out help, instead of cleaning up the mess yourself, you got shut down. It's embarrassing.

"Fine." You say, ripping your arm out of his grasp and heading straight to the exit. You want to leave as soon as possible and use the time you should've spent going here to actually come up with a solution. It was a wasted effort on your end. You make a mental note of that.

Just a few steps short of the exit, some guy nearby grabs your arm and holds you in place. "Where you going, pretty?" He slurs his words, his eyes cascading down your body that you wished you pulled down the length of your skirt. "I didn't get the chance to talk to you."

You try to rip your arm off of his but his grip is firm. "Leave me alone."

"Come on, pretty," he gets closer, his intoxication reeking from his breath that you had to turn your head to avoid the smell. "I can make you feel real good."

Your hand clenched by your side while the other places a palm directly on his chest, trying to place some distance between you and the stranger before you commit to your next move. "If you don’t leave me alone—"

It happened in a flash. One minute he's holding you, the second he's getting knocked back with a punch delivered straight on the mouth.

You look up to see Rafe, his knuckles clenched and redden while the beer he was cradling had dropped on the ground into a million broken pieces. His breathing heavy while his eyes are a little distant, lagged out.

"Rafe," you call out, but before he gets the chance to face you, the drunk stranger comes staggering back with a punch in return. The crowd gasps and quickly moves out of the way as a circle forms, Rafe and the man trading swings.

No one is helping them. No one is attempting to. Rafe is significantly more drunk than the stranger, his footing is slightly off, and the drunkard is getting in more decks on Rafe's face.

When Rafe tries to duck from a delivery, the guy does directly to his stomach and it causes him to topple over with a grunt.

Having enough, you step forward and grab the stranger's shoulder. He turns around with a look of confusion—just in time for you to deck him as hard as your hand can swing, right in the face.

"Shit!" You swear under your breath, the blow rippling back and returning straight to your fist, aching.

The stranger staggers back, his back hitting the floor while you grab Rafe. You don't know where you're going, you don't know the layout of this house, but pushing through the crowd, you find an empty bedroom and slam the door close with a lock.

Thankfully, it had a bathroom attached to it. You set Rafe on the mattress as you flick the lights on and search for the cabinets for any aid. Rafe's bottom lip is busted, there's a cut on one of his brows, and bruising forming against his jawline. You don't even want to think about the mess on his knuckles.

Finding a first aid kit, you step back to see Rafe laid out against the mattress, his eyes closed. You rush to his side, afraid he has a concussion and he's falling asleep.

"Rafe!" You shout, hitting his cheeks with the back of your hand in light taps, causing his eyes to flutter open. "You can't do that."

Willing himself back to a sitting position with your assistance, you set the first aid kit to the side as you attempt to help him. Using your hands to cradle his face, you assess the damages.

"Where'd you learn to punch like that?" He asks, the heat of his gaze follows you as you remove your touch.

You shrug. "You need to learn two things growing up in The Cut," you hold up a finger, "how to deliver a good right hook,"

You pause for a moment.

Impatiently, he prompts. "And?"

You hold up his gold signet ring and his watch. "How to take advantage of a drunk."

He scoffs, snatching his things out of your grasp as you laugh, releasing some tension in your shoulders. "Pogue." He sneers.

"Kook." You retort, but there's a lightness in your tone.

Rafe says nothing as you return to your search through the aid kit. When you find what you were looking for, you start on his face, first cleaning the cut around his brow.

He hisses at the sting, but allows you to continue. It was an awkward position to be in, sitting beside him as you try to clean the damage, and he must've noticed how irritated you were getting with his constant shifts away from the pain. Without a word, he grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap with one swoop, both legs on either side of his waist as his hands settle on the small of your back.

"Better?" He questions, raising a brow.

You don't say anything, attempting to adjust your skirt rising up to your hips, before you nod.

Cleaning the wound, you tilt your head to examine what your next step should be. It's hard to figure out because the bruise is slowly forming and while the cut may be small right now, it's going to be nasty tomorrow.

To ease some tension of the silence, you prompt with a conversation. "You got into another fight with your dad?"

He stiffens under you, clenching his jaw. "What makes you say that?"

You feel his eyes trained on your face, but you refuse to acknowledge it. "Because you're out here getting drunk instead of getting wasted at my bar."

Rafe smirks. "Miss me?"

"No, it was good for business." You say, matter-of-fact, and the look on his face dies off. You feel guilty. Adding on, you rectify, "and, you would've had someone to talk to. I don't think the people around here are offering that."

He says nothing, watching you work. You exchanged the bloodied pads for some ointment.

"It's just about Sarah again." He mutters, almost like he didn't want you to hear but knowing you would. "Same shit. Same golden child."

You nod, finally flicking your gaze down to his. His blue eyes are so prominent now, so clear, you wonder if you could get lost in them.

Rafe doesn't disclose any details like he normally does. When he goes on long tangents about the problem. It must've been bad. So, you lower your hand and cup his face, tilting his face to meet yours. "Want to talk about it?"

He swallows hard. "I don't want to talk."

"What do you want to do?"

"Fuck." He answers without a thought, the ability to shift into a fuck-mode is easier than digesting his feelings. You laugh, inappropriately, dropping your hand from his cheeks. You're about to push yourself off his lap—having bandaged him up—and let him go find his next hookup, but his grip on your waist tightens.

He doesn't say anything with that move, and you tilt your head at him.

"I thought I was below your level?" You tease.

"Yet, you're sitting on my dick right now," he says, eyes following yours. "What do you think that means?"

While you're not directly on him, you can feel his hard-on swelling under his pants, lightly grazing against your core, and causing a small ache between your legs.

"That you're horny enough to go for a Pogue."

He scoffs, lowering his hands to your ass and palms the flesh. Your eyes flutter close at the moment. "Who knew you were hiding such a nice body behind that counter?"

"You just haven't been paying attention."

"I am now."

His hands lowering to your hips, slowly pulling you down his lap, realigning your cunt until it sits directly on top of his zipper. He leans forward, his hot mouth against your ear. "If I tell you to grind on me, would you do it?"

You place a hand on his chest, trying to ease some space between the two of you, but your attempt was weak. Some part of you didn't want to leave.

"You're pushing it."

"What if I told you it would make me feel better?" He whispers, his fingers trailing up your skirt, against your bare thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "That you can consider it part of your deal."

Your breath hitch in surprise. "You're saying yes?"

"I was going to," he pulls back to meet your face, "but you ran away."

"You said no to me," you remind him.

"To rile you up," he says, like an asshole, and you scoff. "Didn't think you would just leave like that."

"Maybe you should give me clear answers then."

"Fine," his breath is right in front of yours. "I want you to ride me."

Your eyes trail his face, your hands finding his shoulders. You know you shouldn't. You know if this is supposed to be fake, why do you feel a deep, carnal urge for him. If this happens, it opens the door to other things. But, something in you softens. He did get a bruise for you. He did defend you. He's in pain and you're in need.

Maybe you could use each other.

Slowly, your hips roll against his. The look on his face hints at surprise that you took the bait and causes you to smirk, gripping his shoulders harder when you find the hard cock lined against your panties. You press down.

"Fuck," he groans raspily, "just like that."

The praise lights something in you. "Like that?" You repeat, pushing yourself against his jeans, rubbing up and down, that you can feel him grow harder and harder against the seams of his pants. He nods shakily. "Is it making you feel better, baby?"

He knows you're taunting him, using his words, but he fucking loves it. You're listening. For once, you're not actively trying to spite him and knock back—but willing, to him.

"That's right," he compliments, his gaze following your body as you are starting to find a rhythm against him. Your movements are getting sloppier. "Just what I need. A Pogue who listens to whatever I fucking say."

You nod vigorously, feeling your wetness growing against your panties, drenching the material enough to leak through and rub off against the front of his pants.

"God, look at you," he muses in your ear, glancing down, and a chuckle leaves his throat. "You made such a mess."

"Feel so good," you moan, you tip your head back as the friction of his jeans feels incredibly perfect against your swollen clit.

"Come on, sweetheart," his grip around your waist tightens, afraid with the way you're moving, you're going to fall off. "Ride me."

You follow his direction, quickening your pace as low groans and rasps leaves his lips at the sensation you're making him feel. The sound is like drugs to you, fueling you, because you want to desperately help him arrive at his own climax.

You wrap both your arms around his neck, grinding ruthlessly against his lap. Leaning forward, you dip your face into the crook of his neck. "Come on, Rafe," you whisper into his ear, closing into your own orgasm. "Come for me."

As you came with a moan, your movements didn't stop. Your legs ache, begging to stop, but you want him to get there too.

"Fuck, fuck," he moans at your aggression, at how hard you're pressed against him, moving against him, it's a mesmerizing sight. "I'm coming."

You feel it against your core. The subtle twitch of his dick under the jeans. The faint wetness under you, mixed with your own cum, produces a small smile against your lips.

You slow your grind, pulling back, just to meet his eyes clearing from their post-orgasmic haze, and his grip has weakened significantly around your body. When you stop completely, you push yourself off of him, finding your feet on solid ground with wobbly legs.

"Better?" You tease, to which he nods weakly through heavy-lids. With a satisfied smile, you turn around and head for the door.

"I'll see you on our first date." 

— read part three —

i'm trying my best w this taglist istg tumblr tags hates me taglists: @quicksilversg1rl / @uraesthete / @maybankslover / @trshngyn / @irides-solstice / @kur0obaby / @groovycass / @emmalandry / @outlawedmando / @ditzyzombiesblog / @mattyskies / @sunshinepanic / @too-deviant / @rafesgiirl / @rivaiken / @ficluvr / @bunniii-98 / @vvvhack @babygoddam / @cami-is-reading / @peachesmilk / @whore4fictionalman / @artemiswinnick / @janediazwindsor / @pandora-rosier1 / @solanathascientst / @ditzyzombiesblog / @itshellie / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @ella131989 / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @alyssax25 / @chopshopcheesecake

[hypewinter]

Prev

Tim came down the stairs with an empty mug in hand. As he entered the dinning room he found a kid happily eating pancakes. Ah this must be the new adoptee, he thought to himself as he recalled last night's group chat.

"This is not a new adoptee," Bruce said looking up from the boy. Man, Tim hated when the old man guessed their thoughts like that.

"Say whatever you need to convince yourself B," Tim replied with a shrug as he went into the kitchen.

Bruce shouted after him, "He already has a family!"

The boy immediately interjected, "She's not my family silly! She's my friend."

Tim chuckled to himself as he filled his mug and came back into the dining room. "Aw B," he said smugly, "he doesn't even have a family. You're not saying we're gonna leave him on the streets are you?"

Bruce for his part, glared halfheartedly at Tim before turning back to the little boy. Tim also took this time to observe the boy. He believed Oracle had said his name was Danny. Danny was currently happily kicking his legs as he stabbed at his pancakes. Tim couldn't help but note how the pancakes had already been cut into bite sized pieces. Other than that, he seemed perfectly fine. No apparent injuries or adverse reactions to sudden movements. His clothes were also nice and clean. Probably Alfred's doing. Speaking of the old butler, he came in and set a plate down in front of Tim.

"Oh I'm not-" One eyebrow raise was enough for the young man to shut his mouth. He looked down at his plate only to immediately turn back to Alfred with an eyebrow raise of his own. "Mister Danny claimed it was not fair he was the only one to receive such special pancakes. He was rather insistent that everyone experiences such happiness this fine morning," Alfred informed.

Ah, that explains why Tim had gotten star shaped pancakes. He looked over at Danny who was smiling giddily at him. As Tim took his first bite of pancake, he couldn't help but agree with that assessment.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Danny?" the boy looked up at him. "As you know our... mutual friend left you in my care. As such after you're finished with your pancakes, what do you say I take you back home?"

"Ok!" the boy replied before shoveling more pancakes into his mouth.

"I think I'll tag along too," Tim said. There was no way this little "drop off" was going to go as planned and he wanted to be there to see it. After all, someone had to keep the group chat updated. Besides, he took great joy in Bruce's half perplexed half annoyed expression.

"Don't you have some meetings to attend today?" Bruce asked through gritted teeth, guessing his son's angle. "Nope," Tim answered sweetly. "My schedule's all clear today."

"Fine," Bruce relented. "If you want to come along on this very quick drop off, I won't stop you."

Tim smiled into his mug. This was gonna be fun.

-----

"We're here!" Danny exclaimed as they pulled up to an abandoned looking apartment building.

"Are you sure this is your home?" Bruce asked cautiously. Tim couldn't blame him, this place was on the outskirts of the Bowery and looked like nobody had lived there in years.

Danny opened the door and hopped out. "Yep!" he said. "I know because I'm a big boy and big boys know how to get home." He puffed out his chest proudly.

"Right," Bruce muttered pensively as he examined the building.

They all entered the building and began ascending the questionable stairs with Danny taking them two steps at a time. As they climbed, both Bruce and Tim noted how rundown the building looked. Walls were peeling and there was rubble and trash all over the floors. The railing on the stairs looked so rusted that a gust of wind could probably knock them over. Most of the lights didn't work because of one thing or another which luckily wasn't a problem considering it was daytime. But none of that was even the most concerning part. No, the most concerning part was how silent it was.

As they walked down the hall, it was simply too silent. Even taking into account that most people would already be at work right now, it was still too quiet. There was no hint of people coming back from work the night shift. No sound of those staying home sick or someone with a day off. No dogs barked, no cats made any noise. It was an eerie silence that seemed to blanket the whole building. It was unnerving.

Danny stopped in front of a door and opened it with ease. There was no lock or anything. Once again adding to the list of concerning evidence. They entered after Danny to discover a shabby looking flat past the door. There was barely any furniture, and the furniture that was there looked like it should have been thrown out years ago. The floor boards seemed as if they would give way at any moment too. The windows to the far side allowed lighted in but that only served to illuminated the mountain of dust everywhere. The apartment didn't even look lived in. There were no clothes anywhere, no dishes, no sort of decorations, nothing.

Danny seemed undeterred by any of this and happily pranced into a room off to the right. Tim followed him as Bruce stayed behind to look around more.

As he entered, Tim was relieved to find that at least this space looked lived in albeit barely. The bed had Superman themed sheets on it and there was a backpack leaning against the closet. The bed also had a blanket laying on top of it which Danny ran to and grabbed. He came back over to show Tim.

"This is my most precious thing!" he explained excitedly. "My friend gave it to me. Feel it! It's super soft."

Tim knelt down and felt the blanket which was black and had stars all over it. "You're right," he said. "It really is soft." Danny beamed. "Told ya!"

Tim smiled at the boy's obvious excitement despite his less than stellar living arrangements. Just then, Bruce called for him. Tim returned to the main room with Danny in tow, still clutching onto his blanket.

Bruce turned to him and handed him a piece of paper with an unreadable expression. The paper had cursive scrall on it that simply read, Take care of him my knights.

Danny looked up at them both curiously and Tim just sighed. So much for this being a quick drop off.

[mykatzone]

Art of my Species-Swap AU where Light and Misa are Shinigami and Ryuk and Rem are humans (also Gelus too because Rem needs her bestie). I have too many AUs and too little time...

More about the AU below (lots of rambling):

Basically it's an AU where Light is a Shinigami who's frustrated that he can't do much to help his own rotten realm so he gets extremely invested in fixing the human world. He starts killing off criminals but because he's killing far too many ppl far too fast this kinda upsets the Shinigami King to a point he bans Light from writing names for the time being unless it's absolutely necessary for him. Light is pissed off because finally he found meaning in his boring empty Shinigami life, but he realizes there's a loophole for him to continue killing people without directly doing it himself. Basically he drops his death note (I'm lying, let's be real he probably drops Sidoh's or something). He intended for Mikami to pick it up (a human he's been observing that seemed perfect for the role), but everything goes wrong and some random teenager picks it up instead. It's Ryuk! He's like a 17 year old high school delinquent or something here.

Ryuk doesn't care about Light's cause. At all. He's like "damn so Kira really was a god! Anyways Mario Kart time-". Light is boiling with rage over the entire situation because he is currently forbidden kill Ryuk unless it is absolutely necessary (aka only when Ryuk's natural lifespan is ending will Light be able to kill him and leave the human realm). And again, Ryuk doesn't even care about Kira! But, Light quickly figures out- Ryuk is bored and he likes being entertained. So Light basically convinces him to act as Kira (with Light planning/making all the decisions), promising him it'll be exciting and fun and worth it. Also Light soon finds out he can get Ryuk to do basically anything for him if Light gives him weed or something. (parallels to apples in canon yey!)

In any case, Misa, who is a Shinigami in this AU- finds out her beloved Light is in the human realm and will be there for the next couple of decades till his human dies. She's ecstatic! If she drops her own death note, he will have no choice but to spend time with her! And so she does exactly that. She gives it to Rem, because she's Ryuk's older sister in this AU. Rem is trying her damnest to stop her stupid annoying brother from getting into trouble. She despises Light for getting Ryuk into this situation (because guess what L is still a human in this AU and is trying to catch Kira), but also she's a lil bit grateful because Rem got to meet her lovely Shinigami who she's slowly falling in love with... She and her bestie Gelus are simping hard for Misa. Honestly L (being the same as he is in canon, aka a human) is a part of the monsterfuckers as well if Lawlight happens in this AU.

That's it, that's the AU. I gotta draw Light and Misa's Shinigami designs too but I'm kinda too sleepy to come up with cool monster designs atm.

[monzabee]

mr. big (social media au) - cs55

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where there he was, wearing armani on a sunday, your boyfriend, Carlos.

Pairing: carlos sainz x romance writer!reader (model used: random people i found on pinterest)

Warnings: none other than some cursing? carlos being an old money dream as always

Request: "For a smau, would love to see romance writer!reader with Carlos (he is just Disney prince vibes) where fans aren’t quite sure how they got together but the influence him on her work is greatly appreciated" by my lovely @percervall

Author note: OKAY JUST REALISED I AM A CARRIE AND BIG APOLOGIST, WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT (i might be freaking out about them, but i will always be a charlotte girl)!!! (might honestly turn it into a series because who doesn't love a satc x old money crossover???)

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, readersdigest and 438,927 others.

yourusername: busy, busy, busy bee.

user: thank you mother for feeding us with another hot billionaire novel

yourusername: you are more than welcome

user: how is she not only one of the best romance authors, but also a fashion icon??

user: can't wait to read what carlos inspired this time!!

carlossainz55: you are not wearing you glasses again, cariño

yourusername: why don't you come put them on yourself??

user: oh, they are so cute it's sickening

user: GIVE US THE MANUSCRIPT AND END OUR SUFFERING

view all 2,387 comments.

user: how did they get together again??

user: i think he ran into her at one of her book signings in madrid?

user: i thought it was when she went to the paddock for some good old r&d?

user: i heard somewhere that a friend set them up

yourusername posted a new story!

carlossainz55 posted a story!

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, goodreads and 682,928 others.

yourusername: life lately & "between love and loathing" out june 23rd.

user: we love the romantic getaway, and a new book!!

user: we're being fed in more ways than one, and i am not complaining at all!!

user: oh shit, we're about to read the best romance novel of all time

view all 13,726 comments.

carlossainz55: i'm so proud of you, you have no idea

yourusername: way to make me cry

yourusername: i love you though

carlossainz55: te quiero más

user: I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY ARE THE OLD MONEY COUPLE WE NEEDED ALL ALONG AND WE DON'T KNOW HOW THEY STARTED DATING

user: it will remain forever a mystery

user: but at least we have content to keep us going through these hard times

carlossainz55

Liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 977,520 others.

carlossainz55: one of us made the pancakes, and one of us stood there looking pretty.

yourusername: hey, it was your turn to make breakfast

carlossainz55: and i loved every second of it

yourusername: even doing the dishes?

carlossainz55: especially doing the dishes

user: this is by far the most romance book thing this man has done

user: i still don't understand how they started dating, but good for them i guess

view all 35,726 comments.

landonorris: hey, i didn't get any pancakes, did you? @charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: didn't even know we were having pancakes, where are our pancakes @carlossainz55

landonorris: and cooking in a towel?? how is that sanitary??

charles_leclerc: he's breaking at least a dozen health codes

carlossainz55: i hate you both

yourusername: you are all a pr nightmare

scuderiaferrari: i agree

user: damn he got lucky

yourusername

Liked by f1wagss, carlossainz55, sarahjessicaparker and 736,928 others.

yourusername: and there he was, wearing armani on a sunday, carlos sainz.

user: SHUT UP!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

user: what kind of an iconic cunt slay is this

user: and just like that... they became the coolest couple on the internet

user: NEW NOVEL IDEA, SEX AND THE CITY RETELL WITH CARLOS

user: girl wtf

yourusername: no let her cook

yourusername: you might be onto something here

user: don't know if i want to be her or be carlos

view all 44,736 comments.

user: everybody say thank you mom for blessing us

carlossainz55: amor

yourusername: amor x2

user: oh she's working overtime god bless you

[gglitch1dd]

Angry Dilf Izuku pt2

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Context: It's your birthday and your husband makes it loud and clear that Katsuki isn't welcomed here anymore.

Warning: Fluffy family time, punching, insinuation of mentally or emotionally cheating.

Note: This isn't my best but it was sitting in my drafts so i decided to post it. Cheating Dilf Izuku will be out soon.

“Shh! You’re gonna wake her up!”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so loud if you weren’t about to drop the tray!”

“SHH! Mama will hear!”

“Can we wake her up now?”

“Mama… mama…”

“Okay boys, we’re rolling.”

You felt someone shoving you, trying to shake you awake. To be honest, you had been awake for the past twenty minutes when you heard all the rustling downstairs from your boys making a racket (and no doubt a mess) downstairs. You let out a fake groan as you shuffled to pull the blankets closer to yourself. “Five more minutes, honey.” You let out in fake tiredness.

“You think we should let her sleep in?”

“I mean it is her birthday.”

“I think we should just wake her up!”

“Mama!” You felt a body land on you making you release an ‘oof’. You opened your eyes to see your little four year old. Shoyo had gleaming bright green eyes as he looked down at you with a beautifully happy expression. Out of all your boys, he was the one that looked the most like Izuku. “Happy birthday!!” He cheered with a bright smile.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, as you sat up in bed, moving to give him a hug. You would have thanked him when your eyes widened in surprise. In front of you were all your boys. Toshinori stood with a tray in his hands at your side. Asahi was holding your favourite morning beverage, both him and his eldest brother had flour, oily fingers and aprons on. Hero held a picture as he sat on the bed next to you and finally, your husband stood with a camera facing to you with a warm smile on his face and your youngest son, Koda, strapped to his chest who made happy babbles as he kicked his legs in his little onesie so happy to see you. You couldn’t help but feel tears in your eyes as you looked at your amazing boys.

“Happy birthday mommy!” They all cheered

“Boys…” You let out with a wavering voice. Your mouth wobbled as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

Toshinori chuckled as he moved to pick up his younger brother rather easily off of you as he put the tray of your favourite breakfast down on your lap. “None of that, momma.” Your oldest son spoke with a gentle smile as he put a kiss to your cheek making you smile. “It’s your birthday, you should enjoy it.”

“Yah! We worked super hard on your breakfast!” Asahi pointed out factually as he put his hands on his hips.

Toshinori looked back at his brother with a scrunched up face. The thirteen year old boy looked confused but also deeply offended. “You mean dad and I worked hard on her breakfast.” He corrected with a pointed look.

Asahi gasped. “I was there!”

“Taking up oxygen!”

Hero looked between his brothers. “B-but I made the card!” He tried chipping in. “That’s the best part!”

Both Toshinori and Asahi looked to their brother with shocked expression. “How in All Might’s good name is that better?”

“Yah! You didn’t even colour in the lines!”

“I did!”

“No you didn’t! Look!” Toshinori pointed to a picture of a bear who you were guessing was you. Hero was never really gifted with drawing capabilities but he sure did try. “You didn’t even colour the dress on the bunny right!”

“THAT’S MOM!”

“MOM’S NOT THAT UGLY!”

The room was filled with your boys arguing, your eyes moving to all of them. Shoyo and Koda, your two youngest seemed rather unbothered by it. Your husband however looked a slight bit annoyed which you found amusing. He stopped the recording on his phone before putting it in his pocket.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked down at your three eldest sons. “Boys.” The tone in his voice was enough to make all three boys close their mouths. Your husband shook his head in disapproval but couldn’t help the amused smile on his face. Izuku motioned to the side. “Go take the laundry downstairs and finish your breakfast.”

“Yes, sir.” Toshinori motioned for his brothers to go and fetch your laundry basket.

You sat with a gentle smile on your face as Izuku walked over to you with a loving look on his face. When you had both decided to have kids and had one of those long lengthy conversations about how you would parent, you had both agreed that he would be the disciplinarian. At first you were worried if your sensitive husband would be able to do it. However, years of being a ProHero and government official had made him rather strict when it came to certain things.

He was an amazing father, and he was often the first one to jump into misfit with the boys but if there was one thing he didn’t tolerate it was disrespect, dishonesty and lack of integrity. It was something he instilled into your boys that they weren’t going to be values that they represented. It was something you found undeniably sexy about him.

Your big man walked over to you, tilting your head up so that you could look up at him. A bright smile was on your face as you looked up at him. He chuckled as he moved his lips over yours. “Happy birthday, my love.” He let out with a low voice, a kiss to your lips. You couldn’t help but giggle against his kiss as you leaned forward against him for more. His hand slid down to wrap around your neck making a shiver rush down your neck. A gentle squeeze that told you that he would have plans for you soon.

“EWWW!” You both separated as you looked to your boys, all having scrunched up faces. Asahi made a fake gagging noise that made you both laugh.

Toshinori looked almost disappointed. “Otousan! While we’re here? That’s disgusting.”

“Hey!” You let out defensively as you squeezed Koda’s little cheeks as he stayed in his place strapped to Izuku’s chest. You let out a chuckle as you took your barely even one year old son away from his father and down to sit next to you. “It’s not disgusting, it’s love.”

“Yah and she’s my wife.” Izuku defended as he put a thumb to his chest proudly. He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, at your side, an arm around you. “And I don’t care if it’s disgusting.” He let out with a petty smile. You rolled your eyes, ignoring the lick your husband placed to your neck.

Another gag from Asahi came as he ran out of the room. “I’m gonna be sick!”

Toshinori shook his head as he led his two other brothers out of the room. “I told you guys! Mom and dad’s room is a trap!” He lectured, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone with Izuku and Koda.

You picked up your little boy who was gripping at your shirt with a whine. “Mama. Mama.” He babbled as he pulled at your shirt trying to access what was hidden underneath.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, but gave him a piece of a banana to distract him before he chomped his way to bruising your breasts. You turned to look at your husband who seemed satisfied with his display. “You are absolutely insatiable.” You let out as you took a bite of your breakfast.

Izuku tilted his head, deep dark green curls tilting to the side as he looked down at you, nothing but love in his eyes as he did so. “I know, I’m so terrible right?” He said with a smirk on his face, clearly not believing a word. “So terrible for wanting to kiss my wife.” His eyes flicked down to your lips. You couldn’t help but giggle as you met him in a gentle peck, trying to move away before he did something that would end up with the both of you not leaving your bedroom for another good ten minutes.

If there was one thing your boys got right it was the fact that Izuku was absolutely disgusting, but to you it was in the best way possible. Your husband was insatiable when it came to you and absolutely obsessed. The five boys being a testament to that. He always had a hand on you, or his lips on you, or his tongue in you. Whatever came first.

But no one could blame him, when you treated him so well. Izuku had filled out and was basically double the size he was when her married you. He had thickened out into his dad bod (which you found absolutely delicious) and you couldn’t deny that it looked good on him. It helped with hero work too considering shock absorption.

Unfortunately, it meant you had five hungry boys plus one huge hungry man to feed at all times of the day.

“So what do you have planned for me this year?” You asked him as you ate another spoon of your breakfast, handing Koda another banana as he had promptly finished his piece and was whining for another piece. Koda let out a happy squeal as he got another piece of a fruit he adored.

Izuku chuckled as he moved to pick up his youngest son and put him back against his chest. “A whole lot, but right now, the main one is nothing.” With Koda safely secured, Izuku looked back to you. He placed a large hand to your cheek. “You deserve to rest, my love. You do so much for the boys and I, it’s only fair we let you rest today.”

“But what about the lunch?” You asked as you put your hands to cover Izuku’s large one. Mina had excitedly said she would be coming over with Sero and her kids and you also automatically knew that Katsuki and Eijiro would be coming with their kids too.

Izuku put his hands on his hips as he put a proud look on his face. “We can handle it. The Midoriya boys have everything all under control.” He told you with wave down of his hand.

You lifted a single eyebrow not convinced. You looked down at Koda who seemed equally not convinced in his father as you did. You looked back up at Izuku with a blunt expression. “You called your mother, didn’t you.”

Your husband didn’t answer immediately. “If I were honest… she was already going to come whether or whether not I asked her to.”

“Izuku.”

“Honestly, honey, I think you should be glad I called her. She always makes life easier.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his words as he slowly backed off towards the door. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ve got this all sorted! You just gotta look pretty by 1pm.” He told you as he marched out of the room with Koda. “Isn’t that right buddy?”

“Dadada.”

“You see! Koda agrees!”

You laughed as you were finally left alone again, sitting in your bed. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You felt so unbelievably blessed to be sitting here with all that your family had planned for you. But more than that, you felt blessed to even have your family. You felt so unbelievably lucky.

“Go sprouts!” You heard Mina cheer as the kids were deep in a Just Dance competition amongst themselves. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you both sat beside one another outside by the deck chairs. You leaned back enjoying the relaxation and knowing that your husband didn’t want you to do a single thing. You sat with a simple cider in hand to spoil yourself. Mina chuckled as she turned to look at you. “So…” She let out as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Considering Hanta and I are taking Shoyo and Asahi, and Toshinori is having a sleepover with the Bakugous and Kirishimas and Mama Midoriya is taking Koda off your hands… what are the plans for the rest of the evening? Izuku’s been tight lipped about it.”

You lowered your sunglasses further down your nose before turning to look at your husband who was clearing up the outside tables. You watched as your larger than life husband laughed alongside Hanta. He wore a button-down shirt, that had the top few buttons open just due to the sheer fact that they physically could not close. You couldn’t help but think about just how big and rough he was now. Large thick hands that made everything smaller than they were.

“I know what I want to do.” You let out lowly as you watched your husband move around grabbing plates and taking them inside, before your eyes drifted down to his ass. “I want to climb that tree.”

Mina let out a loud laugh as she pushed your shoulder, however, you didn’t even get deterred. “Girl! I thought we were being safe. No more broccoli sprouts.”

You turned to look at her as you took a sip of your cider. “Mina, it’s harder than it looks.” You told her truthfully.

“Hey, Y/N.” You turned to see your sweet mother-in-law, Inko, shuffle over to you, holding Shoyo in her arms who was babbling off about a story about who knows what. “There’s someone at the door for you.” She told you.

You smiled as you stood up. “Thanks, Okaasan. I’ll get it, don’t worry.” You told her, placing a kiss to her cheek before moving to go answer the door. You walked past Toshinori and Hina Sero who were both deep in a dance to care about whoever was at the door. You chuckled as you moved into the entrance hallway and opened the door.

Standing outside your door was a family of four. Two children, around the same age as your eldest son stood there with bright smiles. Kane and Satomi stood with boxes in hand, gifts addressed to you. “Happy birthday Aunty Y/N!” They wished with bright smiles.

You let out an awe as you moved to hug them. “Awww thank you two!” You let out gratefully. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Well of course we would come.” Kane let out with a shrug, his crimson eyes, so much like his father looked up at you. He folded his arms as he looked away from you with a soft blush on his face. He huffed. “You’re like a mother to us so of course we’d come to say happy birthday.” He spoke.

Satomi nodded her head as she looked up at you with bright ruby eyes. “Yes! We hope you like the gifts.”

You smiled dearly at the two children. With only their dads, they never really did have a maternal figure other than you. You tried your best to step into that role not only as their best friend’s mom but also just trying to be a decent human being. You crouched in front of them and hugged them both. “Thank you so much. It means a lot to me.” You spoke sincerely as you placed a kiss to each of their heads. “How about you go tell Toshinori that you’re here to pick him up, and you can leave the gifts down in the kitchen.” You motioned into the house, allowing the two of them to sprint in.

You stood back up straight to face their fathers. You smiled as you faced Kirishima and Bakugou. “Katsuki, Eijiro, It’s so good to see you two. Thank you so much for taking Toshinori for the night.” You let out truly grateful.

First to speak was your ex, Bakugou Katsuki. He let out a low laugh, the blond moving to pull you into a tight hug. “It’s high time we repay all your babysitting hours. Happy birthday, Y/N.” He let out lowly in your ear again. You moved back out of his arms, but he kept his hands on you.

“Katsuki is right, Happy birthday Y/N.” Kirishima wished sincerely as he stood behind Bakugou in everything.

“Thank you.” You stated as you tried to step back out of Bakugou’s linger touch, however it was quickly rectified as a large hand pulled you back into his front as he stood in the doorway. You turned to look up to see your husband with a tense smile. His hand resting on your shoulder. His hold on you was clearly possessive but also cautionary.

Bakugou’s crimson eyes, filled with mischief and amusement flicked up to Izuku. He let out a scoff as he tilted his head to the side. “Deku.” He put his hands in his pockets, staying silent.

“Kacchan.” Izuku let out stiffly. He hummed as he gave your hand a squeeze. You knew what that meant and put a hand over his own, trying to calm him down. Over the past few weeks, Izuku had been able to promptly avoid Katsuki and everything he had to say about you, however, it seemed like today would be the day where he would address the elephant in the room. He motioned for you to head back inside but kept looking to Bakugou. “Honey, go fetch Toshinori.”

You looked up at him wordlessly, but at the look on his face you knew that he needed your support on this. You nodded your head but before you could leave, you heard Katsuki let out a scoff.

The blond man folded his arms as he looked over at you. He motioned to your husband with a finger but looked at you amusedly. “You gonna let him boss you around, sugar?” He asked.

You furrowed your eyebrows, not sure as to what Katsuki was trying to do here. “I trust my husband, Katsuki.” You stood your ground as you moved in closer to Izuku’s side.

His jaw tensed at your words. Kirishima took a step forward, confused as to what was going on but put a hand to Bakugou’s shoulder. “Katsuki, drop it.” He told him gently. “It’s Y/N’s birthday, there’s no need to be so hostile.”

Bakugou shrugged off Kirishima’s arm as he let out a huff. His redheaded husband looked surprised at the action, his face forming into hurt as he watched Bakugou. The blond rolled his eyes as he moved to head inside. “I’ll go get the kids.”

However, stopping him in his tracks was Izuku. He stepped to the side, folding his arms as he did so, blocking the entire doorway. Bakugou looked at him surprised with wide eyes as he looked up at the green haired man in front of him. Izuku had made sure that you were behind him at all times, making sure that you wouldn’t be caught in the middle of the both of us.

“Kacchan, I think it’s best you don’t enter my house… ever.” He stated firmly.

Bakugou scoffed as he tilted his head. “And why the fuck not.”

“I don’t appreciate how you look or talk about my wife and until you sort that out, I don’t want you anywhere near her or my kids.” He specified.

It was Kirishima’s turn to look confused as he looked over at Bakugou. His eyebrows furrowed as he rested his hands out of his pockets. Despite being one of the biggest men you knew, Kirishima had been looking awfully small nowadays. “Katsuki…” He let out softly and unsurely. “What is Midoriya talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter, Eij.” Bakugou dismissed it entirely before turning to look at you. You automatically took a step back. “Y/N, are you really going to-”

“Hey!” Izuku moved so that you were completely out of sight from the blond. “You are not talking to her, you’re talking to me.” He put a thumb to his chest as he took a step forward. “So I want you, back in your car, away from my family.”

Bakugou scowled as he looked up at the green haired man in front of him. Years of letting you be swept off your feet by Midoriya after the two of you broke up, the both of you married faster than Katsuki could even breathe and having five boys. Years of agony of Katsuki watching the girl that he coveted and loved being taken from his grasp. It all felt like it was bursting open, especially with such an order.

“Like hell am I staying away.” He let out lowly and stubbornly. “You think your big shit, huh, Deku? You think your so big and tough just cause you’ve got your ring on her finger.”

“Yes.” Izuku stated seriously. “I am her husband, Katsuki. Not you, not anyone else, but me! You’ve got five minutes to step away from my front door, the else I’m not liable to what happens next.” He growled down in anger.

“You threatening me, Deku?”

Izuku stepped forward with a scowl on his face. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Bakugou nodded, turning around to leave, almost resigning to whatever your husband had to say. However, you knew the blond far to well to know that he would never back down from such. Your eyes widened before you could say anything, you watched Bakugou swing at your husband. With a slight flash of light, lighting and static fluttering over your husband’s skin as he dodged it, stepping back. A scowl went to his face as he immediately went to connect a punch to Bakugou’s face.

You gasped as you stepped back, although not entirely surprised they were fighting. It was going to happen sooner or later regardless.

“Midoriya!” Kirishima shouted as he hardened his arms and just barely managed to pull your husband off of Bakugou. Bakugou leaned against the Jeep they had come in, wiping blood from his nose as he sneered at Izuku.

Izuku let out a huff. He pointed a finger at the blond. “I don’t want to ever see you here again.”

You paused as you turned to see Toshinori. He was holding his backpack straps, Kane and Satomi still being somewhere in your house. He flicked his gaze to you before looking back at the glimpse of outside. He frowned before shrugging off his backpack. He turned around. “Guys, I think we’ll have a sleepover another time! I promise Hina I’d go over to her place.”

You let out a soft sigh in relief that your son was as fast and as perceptive as his father was. No doubt he would have questions but you doubted that they would be answered today.

With all the kids out of your house, you and your husband were cuddled in bed watching a movie play on the screen. You looked up at him, watching as the glow of the TV painted his face as he sat beside you, an arm around you protectively. Izuku turned to look down at you, feeling your eyes on him. “You alright, my love?” He asked lowly.

You smiled up at him as you moved to shuffle and climb ontop of him. His eyes went wide as you straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. You got comfortable on top of him, earning a smirk like grin on his face, sharp canines glinting in the low light as he moved his large arms to rest on your hips. “Ever tell you how much I love you?”

Izuku nodded his head, deeply hypnotised by you already. “Oh yah… I just never get tired of hearing it.”

[Angry Dilf Izuku Pt1]

[Izuku Midoriya Masterlist]

[neteyamsilly]

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

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

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

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

No answer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Quaritch?” 

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

“In the flesh.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence again. 

“What do you want?”

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

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

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

“Fucking bastard—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guys, what’s going on…”

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

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

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

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

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

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

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

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

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated. 

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

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

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

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re asking me?—”

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

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

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

“Great title for your autobiography.”

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

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded. “I know dad.”

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

Just what was happening? What had you done? 

Eywa, it had to be sky people. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was mom. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you were tired. 

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

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

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

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

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

Got an ikran for nothing. 

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

But no words were exchanged about it. 

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

A ticking time bomb. 

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

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

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know. 

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

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was over.

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

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

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

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

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

And you fulfilled his wish. 

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