Can Anybody Enlighten Me Plz-

Can anybody enlighten me plz-

So we all know that the sully's kid have 5 fingers right? That's what make it different than other na'vi. But I have read some of imagines that saying they feel like freak for having 4 fingers

And here I am confused 😕. Am i the one wrong or I just dont understand the story?

Im not saying this to anybody okay? Avatar x oc is such a bop and Im here for it! It just Im confused

Ps/: also sorry for the grammar mistakes english are not my first language sksksk

To The All Of Lo'ak Main

Why every lo'ak mains always write truly magnificent stories ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ ? The hurt feelings make me tingly and cried for how many times idk- I need to tag all of my fav but I just dunno how (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

Ps: I just say this out of nowhere and it doesn't mean neteyam mains or jake mains doesn't write a good stories. It just neteyam make me hurt so much. PLZ GIVE THAT BOY REST GUYS! Same with dilf! Jake. But you know what? At the end of the day I still enjoy the pain. Thank you guys (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠♪

Credit gif to the owner yall- its not mine

Yes thank you. Im a simp with jake x daughter imagines

New Breath, All Mine (Daddy's Here Sequel)

Jake Sully x Daughter!Reader

everyone was heartbroken after the first part, and the demand for a sequel was high, so here it is. also, I want to give full credit to @vampxra for proposing this wonderful sequel idea!

I hope you like this (and also happy birthday @vampxra consider this a b-day present) ! sorry to put y'all through the trauma of the first part hopefully this makes up for it

do yourself a favor and listen to The Songcord during the first part of this one too lmao

enjoy xx.

Time no longer felt like a factor. Your existence was only peace. Smiling to yourself, you stared up at the swinging tendrils of the massive, effulgent Tree of Souls. The sky was dark and the stars--that you admired so deeply--winked down at you. As you laid on your back, allowing the softness of the ground to relax you, the feeling of an additional presence pulled you from your serenity.

Sitting up, you looked around until your eyes fell on a tall figure. As the figure walked towards you, it slowly developed from a silhouette to a blurred image before finally materializing.

Your eyes widened as you stood up, preparing to greet the approaching presence. Though you'd never gotten the chance to meet him, something within you confirmed that he was exactly who you believed he was.

He slowly made his way up the slanted roots before coming face-to-face with you. Your mouth dropped in awe as you gawked up at him. Amused by your reaction, he tilted his head, which slightly agitated the beads in his hair.

"No greeting for me?" he asked, smirking as he opened his arms.

"You are . . ." you breathed, "the great warrior. Brother of my father. Uncle of me. Tsu'tey."

His smirk grew into a smile as you rushed forward before colliding with his chest. As you wrapped your arms around his neck, he closed his arms around your torso.

Tucking your face into his neck, you spoke again. "It is so wonderful to finally meet you."

You felt his large hands briefly rub your back. "And you, as well, my strong little warrior." He pulled away, placing hands on your shoulders. "But, I am afraid I cannot stay."

You frowned at his words. "Why?"

He smiled gently, grabbing one of your hands in his. "I am here to deliver a message to you. The Great Mother has sent me."

Your eyebrows flew up as your lips parted. Remaining quiet, you waited for him to continue. "You have been called," he stated simply.

When you didn't reply, he placed a gentle hand on your cheek. "You have called back--by your family," he continued, "The Great Mother sent me to you, allowing your family to communicate this message. However, the choice is yours."

After a long moment, with wide eyes, you finally choked out a response. "You mean, I can return to them?"

Tsu'tey bowed his head, giving a single nod.

For the first time since you'd arrived--and you had no clue how long you'd been there--you felt conflicted. As much as you wanted to see your family, you felt guilty about leaving The Great Mother when she had called you to her.

Sensing your battling thoughts, Tsu'tey gave your hand a squeeze. Snapping out of your daze, you looked back up at him.

"The Great Mother understands all. Nothing will change her love for you. You will join Her again."

His words were the confirmation that you needed. Joy washed over you as a teary smile crossed your face. Raising his hand to your lips, you placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, my wonderful uncle," you whispered, "I wish we could have talked longer. I will miss you."

Another soft smile spread across his face. "We will see each other again," he replied gently, "and we will talk for all of eternity, if that is your wish. For now, go be with your family."

Taking one last look at him, you finally nodded and smiled. He gazed fondly at you before stepping forward. Then, he gripped both sides of your head before leaning in. As soon his lips connected with your forehead, the world around you went white.

-

"The Great Mother protects only the balance of life," Mo'at explained in a low voice, "The choice will be Hers."

"I understand," Jake replied, nodding his head, "I just . . . wanna give it a try."

Mo'at nodded once before raising her hands, signaling for The People to begin. The luminescent areas of the Tree of Souls, and the surrounding roots, began to flash repeatedly. Your body, which your family had brought back to the forest, was spread beneath the glowing tendrils. Slim, glowing tendrils--that were the size of blades of grass--wrapped around your body, connecting your physical body to Eywa. The People chanted--all of their voices becoming one as they begged for Eywa to return your soul.

Jake, who was sitting on your right side, stared down at your peaceful face, praying for a miracle. Neytiri, who sat on the opposite side, watched your state while rubbing a gentle thumb over your hair. Your brothers sat on either side of your legs.

As Mo'at continued to conduct the revival ceremony, the flashing lights grew faster.

"Ting mikyun ayoer, ruxte, ma nawma sa'nok!" Mo'at chanted.

"Srung si poeru, ma Eywa!" The People chanted.

"Please," Jake whispered, "Bring her back to us."

Neytiri, being the only one that heard his words, placed a hand on his. He looked up, meeting her gaze before giving her a soft smile.

"Eo Eywa oe 'ia, eo Eywa oe 'ia, eo Eywa oe 'ia, eo Eywa oe 'ia," Mo'at repeated, rolling her eyes to the back of her head.

Arms spread out, she shook over your body, allowing herself to become lost within the ceremony. The lights within the roots flashed faster, resembling a strobe light pattern now. Then, after a long minute of chanting, Mo'at came to a sudden stop. Snapping her eyes open, she signaled for the people to cease their chants.

She lowered her gaze to your body, moving slowly as she kneeled over you. Jake's heart pounded against his ribcage as he waited for Mo'at to speak.

With an awestruck expression, Mo'at finally broke the silence. "She is with us."

Jake withheld a gasp as he snapped his head to Neytiri. Neytiri, who had been looking at her mother, turned to Jake. They stared at one another for a moment before lowering their gazes to you. Reaching out, Jake brushed a loose strand of hair from your forehead before cupping your face.

The air was still. No one dared to speak, or even take a breath. All they could do was wait.

-

"She is with us."

The echoing voice was familiar to your foggy mind. However, distinguishing who it belonged to was too much effort for you. At the moment, all you could do was try to center yourself.

For the longest time, you felt disconnected--like you were a floating presence, suspended in an airless vacuum. However, ever-so-slowly, you began to feel the world around you.

There was air. It was crisp, but not uncomfortably cold. Something soft was behind you, but you couldn't distinguish what it was. Your existence slowly morphed from nothingness to darkness.

It's dark, you thought to yourself, before realization began to dawn on you, My eyes must be closed.

Then, the object behind you became clearer as you felt gravity pushing down on you.

I'm laying down, you realized, I'm laying down on something soft, and I feel it behind me.

The elements of the surrounding world, that you'd once known, were slowly beginning to materialize in your mind, grounding you from your spiritual state.

As you became aware of the body that you were in, you struggled to move. However, you felt paralyzed.

Slowly, my child. Not yet, an unknown, yet comforting voice rang within your head, startling you, You will return at your own pace.

Suddenly, something agitated you. Then, it agitated another part of you. Concentrating, you tried to picture your surroundings.

My face, you decided, Someone is touching my face.

The touch did wonders to ground you further. It gave you perspective. You relaxed into its warm embrace, allowing the remaining parts of yourself to materialize. Before long, you felt steady.

Your body was laying down on the soft, marsh-like material of the ground. Small tendrils were gripping the sides of your skin. A large hand was cupping your cheek, slowly rubbing a thumb over your cheekbone. At last, you felt like you could breathe.

"Hhhh." A small, almost intangible, sigh, left your lips.

The thumb froze its movements, lifting itself above your skin, hovering shakily over your cheek.

"Baby girl?" a hesitant voice spoke.

It was so close. It had to be right above you. Fatigue faded and a new wave of strength washed over you. Using this strength, you concentrated on the muscles of your eyes. After a minute, you managed to lift them open.

At first, everything was white. However, the white quickly faded as a hazy world transpired before you. You were too busy trying to clear your vision to take notice of the gasps and screams around you.

"Oh Great Mother!" a voice wailed, "Great Mother, thank you! Thank you!"

The back of your head was cupped and two faces nuzzled into your cheeks. Blinking rapidly, you finally saw the world clear around you. The faces lifted, and you met the gazes of your mother and father.

After processing their faces, you finally gained the strength to speak.

"Hi." Your voice came out breathlessly.

Smiling widely, they both broke into a relieved wave of laughter. Their eyes, which were pouring with tears, glanced at each other before returning to you.

"Hello, my love," Neytiri replied as Jake spoke a raspy, "Hi, baby girl."

"Baby sister?"

Your eyes shifted behind your father's head. A joyous expression spread across your face as Neteyam and Lo'ak came into view. Tears were leaking from their faces, as well.

"Big brothers," you greeted, smiling widely at them.

Neteyam ran his hand over his face, wiping the tears, before scooting closer to you. When he reached his hand out, you immediately outstretched yours. The two of you grabbed hands and squeezed tightly. Lo'ak did the same, grabbing your other hand.

"I love you, big brothers," you said before turning to your father, "Daddy?"

He'd been staring at you, an expression of astonishment still evident on his face. "Daddy?" you called again.

He snapped out of his trance. "Y-Yes?" he replied, nerves evident in his voice, "I'm here, I'm here."

"Uncle Tsu'tey," you answered, making his mouth fall agape, "He delivered the message--from all of you. He told me that you all were calling to me, and that The Great Mother could return me to you."

Jake's eyes, which had slightly calmed, were overwhelmed with a new wave of tears. Tilting his head, he gripped the back of your neck.

"Is that right?" he asked, shifting his eyes to Neytiri.

When you turned to your mother, she smiled at you. "He is your family too," she whispered, brushing a finger over your cheek, "He came for guidance."

Nodding your head, you released your brothers' hands before cupping the back of your parents' heads. They leaned in, allowing you to hold them closely. Jake and Neytiri reached their hands out, pulling Neteyam and Lo'ak in as the family wrapped themselves around your small body.

-

As your family walked away from the tree, along with the rest of The People, you looked up at your father.

"Daddy?" you called.

Jake, who had been walking with an arm around your shoulders, looked down. "Yeah, baby?"

Your mother, who was holding the hand farthest from Jake, looked over at the sound of your voice.

"Are we still living with the Metkayina?" you asked.

He sighed before tightening his grip on you. "It isn't safe for you here, because this is our home. It's known to everyone," he answered, making you nod in response, "but with the Metkayina, you'll be safer. And, should anything happen, you'll be protected by Tonowari and his family while we go out on the field."

Gazing in front of you, you answered in a quiet voice. "I won't be fighting anymore."

"No." Jake, Neytiri, Neteyam, and Lo'ak replied together.

"Hell no. Absolutely not. Out of the question," Jake continued sternly, "We lost you once, but were fortunate enough to be blessed with a miracle."

When you didn't respond, he glanced down at you. Sensing his eyes, you lowered your gaze before nodding obediently.

Realizing that he'd let his emotions get the best of him, he halted his movements before turning to you and cupping your face with both hands. "I'm sorry, baby girl. I just--I got a little . . . " He stopped, closing his eyes to collecting his words. "I won't lose you again," he whispered, shaking his head as his eyes grew hazy, "I wouldn't--I couldn't even bear it the first time."

Feeling your own eyes gloss over, you tilted your head before gripping one of his wrists. "I know, Dad. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

His hands, which were rubbing your cheeks, moved up to cup the top of your head. They smoothed over your head and ran down your lengthy hair. He'd always petted your hair, but you knew that this act of comfort was moreso for himself, than for you.

He couldn't believe you were there, standing right in front of him, breathing again. He was so afraid that, if he disconnected his physical touch, you would disappear and fade into a cloud of dust.

"Don't apologize," he finally replied, "Don't you ever apologize for this. If anything . . . we should be thanking you . . . for coming back to us."

He shifted his gaze to look at the rest of your family. Neteyam stepped closer before taking your free hand. After smiling glossily at each member of your family, you looked back at your father.

"I still needed all of you," you replied, "and you still needed me."

Cupping the back of your head, Jake placed a kiss on your forehead.

-

The pain, so familiar, was almost as strong as the first time you'd felt it. The vision of your chest, and the red liquid leaking from it, was branded into your mind. It was so clear, like you were in the moment, once again.

"Y/N."

You looked up at Neteyam, and his petrified gaze that paralyzed you.

"Baby girl, look at me. Open you eyes."

Sucking in a harsh breath, your eyes snapped open as you jerked yourself to a sitting position. Panting, you blinked rapidly before looking around, desperately trying to establish your surroundings.

"Baby, hey. Hey, hey, hey."

Arms were around you, restricting your movements. The panic spiked within you as you thrashed harder, still seized by the terror of your nightmare.

"Shh, shh, shh. I know, I know. It's okay, it's okay."

You finally recognized your father's soft coos. Freezing your movements, you looked around the dimly-lit hut. However, when your eyes failed to locate him, your breath picked up again.

"Dad," you wheezed, feeling your chest tighten up.

"Here, baby," Jake whispered, gently turning your head to face him, "I'm right here."

He was cradling you, but his arms were also restricting your arms, keeping them at your sides. You wheezed as you struggled to break from your frantic state.

"I was--It was--"

He only nodded, rocking you in his lap. "I know, I know."

Jake knew what your nightmare was about. In fact, he'd been expecting this. There was no way that you'd adjust back to your life without the trauma you'd experienced coming back to haunt you in some form.

Your shallow breaths prohibited your ability to form a sentence. "I can't--I can't--"

"I got you," he whispered, nodding down at you, "I got you, baby. It's all over. It's all over."

He grabbed your shaking hand and pressed it to his chest, allowing you to feel his heartbeat. As you rested your head in the crook of his elbow, Jake kept his gaze fiercely trained on you and stopped his rocking movements.

"You feel this?" he asked, squeezing you gently to emphasize his grip on you, "I've got you. You're mine. My baby, my little girl. All mine." He shook his head. "No one's taking you from me ever again."

Shaking all over, you sucked in a harsh, audible breath as tears began pouring down your cheeks. A long, loud sob tore through your lips before you took in another loud breath.

It took everything in Jake to hold back his own tears. The fragility of your state made it imperative for him to show no signs of weakness. You were looking to him for comfort--for protection from the horrors of your mind.

"Big breaths, baby. Big breaths," he instructed, resuming his rocking movements, "That's it."

Using his chest as a reference, you slowly adjusted yourself to imitate his breathing patterns. He flattened his large hand over yours.

"That's my girl." His voice proved to be highly therapeutic for you. It was the first voice you'd heard, and the last one you'd heard. "So good. You're doing so good."

After a long few minutes, he'd finally managed to ground you from your panic attack. Your breaths grew even and your sobs quieted. Apart from Jake's continuous rocking motions, no signs of you distress remained.

"All mine," he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief as he gazed down at you.

As your eyes began to droop, you snapped them open. Finally breaking from Jake's grasp, you sat up before scooting next to him, never taking your hand off of his chest.

He squeezed the hand that he was holding. "What is it, baby?"

"I can't go back to sleep," you whimpered, shaking your head, "I won't."

Jake sighed, completely understanding your fear. However, he desperately wanted you to get some more rest, knowing the toll a lack of sleep could take on you--physically and emotionally.

He thought for a moment, rubbing his thumb over your hand. Then, an idea finally materialized in his head. Gently, he stood up, raising you up with him. When you gave him a questioning look, he nodded towards the hut entrance.

"C'mon," he said, taking your hand and guiding you towards the doorway.

The two of you walked a small distance before arriving at a hammock that your family had set up outside the hut. Jake sat on the swinging object. Then, he spread his legs out and positioned himself to lay down. Finally, he gave your hand a gentle tug, signaling you to come to him.

"C'mere."

He pulled you into the spot next to him, cupping your head as you placed it on his chest.

"I don't want to sleep," you stressed, earning a shush from him.

"We aren't," he whispered, "We're stargazing."

For a long moment, Jake waited until he felt you relax against him--completely letting your guard down--before initializing the second part of his plan.

His mind hadn't wandered to his Earth life in years. However, a soft, Earthling tune, echoing from the distant memories of his childhood, overtook his mind when you'd first protested the idea of sleeping.

Prior to Pandora, music--or any artistic realm--never proved to be Jake's forte. However, life with the Omaticaya had changed every fiber of his DNA. Many nights had been spent singing, dancing, chanting, and celebrating. Therefore, it wasn't too out-of-character for him to sing for you. However, it was unusual for him to sing an Earth song.

"Stay awake, don't rest your head," he slowly began, making your eyes--which you hadn't realized had closed--snap back open, "Don't lie down upon your bed."

He couldn't place where he knew the song from but, for some reason, the lyrics came with a foreign ease. "While the moon drifts in the skies, stay awake don't close your eyes."

Glancing down to check on you, he watched your eyes begin to droop again. Acting carefully, he began petting your head, further coaxing your tiredness. "Though the world is fast asleep, though your pillow soft and deep," he continued, dropping his voice to a lower volume, "You're not sleepy as you seem. Stay awake, don't nod and dream . . ."

Just as he'd hoped, your head fell limp on his chest. Releasing a breath, he leaned down and gave you a kiss. Then, he relaxed against the hammock, enjoying the feeling of your beating heart and peaceful breaths--simple things he was so thankful that you'd been given a second chance at possessing.

Taglist : @eywas-daughter @pturnersblog @bombshe77 @faatxma @scryarchives @gamorxa @222krn @ellabellabus07 @perfectprofessorloverapricot @raefoxi@egirl @vampxra @itssiaaax @tinkerbelle05 @brittclass-18 @missroro @aisylazzy @leomatsuzaki @joey-hoey @eternallyvenus @mae-is-crazy

HEPI BEDAY BB 🌼🌼🔥🔥❤️❤️

♡ Chris Birthday Countdown ♡ ↳ D-5 : A year of music videos

SWEET MIN SWEET MIN SWEET MIN I REPEAT SWEET MIN ❤️💕❤️❤️

Language Barrier

Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count: 7K

Tags: fluff, first meeting, first kiss, strangers to lovers

Summary: When the power goes out while you’re in an ATM vestibule, you come to realize you’re stuck inside until the police come to open the door. But there’s one problem, you don’t speak a lick of Korean, and the man inside doesn’t seem to speak an ounce of English.

———

A/N: Please note that sentences that are Italicized are meant to be in Korean and sentences that are regular text are in English.

‘How are you?’ - English

‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ - Korean

—————————————————————————

Luck was not on your side today.

It’s not like you’re an unlucky person as a whole, no, that’s not it. Today was just one of those days that when you say ‘How could this get any worse?’, the universe takes it as a challenge.

Perhaps you should’ve just kept your mouth shut after you spilled coffee on your blouse this morning. But, you’ve always been such a ‘glass-half-full’ sort of person that you tried to take every inconvenience in stride. Everyone has their limit, though.

Before you came here on a business trip, you had heard about the Korean Monsoon season.

Everyone and their mother told you about how much it would pour, how it would feel like the skies suddenly opened up. But, you didn’t take anyone’s warning seriously. You would wave them off with a scoff.

“It’s just rain,” you thought. “How bad could it be?”

You’re eating those words now as you run through the streets in your nice, newly-soaked, professional heels. Your slacks are sticking to your legs, making the fabric ten times heavier. With your bag held over your head, you look around frantically for the bank.

It doesn’t help that it’s close to 10 PM and visibility is already horrible at this time. Yes, you should have gone earlier, but you were distracted!

Where is it? Where is it?

There!

You spot the glass doors and practically sprint up to them, grab the handle, and rip the door open.

A giant sigh of relief comes out of your lips as you step inside the tiny vestibule.

The only other man inside the place jumps a bit at your noise. He glances over his shoulder at you, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing at the ATM. You pay him no mind as you shake the rainwater off of your bag.

It’s after hours at the bank, meaning the only thing open and available is one ATM inside the room between the bank itself and the streets of Seoul.

Soft beeping comes from the ATM as the other man presses a few buttons. There’s an umbrella on the floor at his feet.

After brushing the water off your jacket, you bring your bag in front of you and start fishing out your card. Countless items inside your bag are now completely soaked.

Ugh, there goes all those business cards you collected at the meeting. Most of the ink is bleeding off the cardstock. Maybe, if you try really hard, you can make out the phone numbers on the cards.

Is that a 6 or an 8?

Or maybe the email addresses will be easier to understand. Surely, it just their names and their company’s–

There’s a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder at the same time the lights in the ATM vestibule flicker and go out completely.

You fight the yelp that bubbles in your throat. The man in front of you seems to lose the fight against his reactions and lets out a tiny yip.

His shoulders come up and he seems to bristle like a cat.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble, looking up at the lights. It was almost pitch black inside now, save for the tiny emergency lights that kick on on either side of the glowing Exit sign.

The man lets out a grumble and a sigh.

You look over and see that the ATM has completely shut off. Figures.

The storm must’ve triggered some sort of power outage. Great. Now you’ll have to find some other ATM.

Why, oh why, did the restaurant that your boss wanted to take you to tomorrow morning have to be cash only?

Whatever, there should be a bank a few blocks from here.

Your heels click on the tile as you make your way to the door. When you grab the handle and pull, it doesn’t budge.

There’s a beat.

You try again, really putting your back into it this time.

“Am I stupid or what?” you whisper to yourself, trying the other door and pulling equally as hard.

“They’re not going to open,” the man behind you says. “The fail-safe locks probably kicked in once the power went out. It’s a security measure.”

You turn around and look at him with a blank look on your face. “Oh, ah, um… s-sorry, no… no Korean.”

The man blinks at you. “You don’t speak Korean?”

You blink right back at him. “Um…” All you can do is shake your head with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you repeat.

Another series of blinks are exchanged.

“No… Korean?” he asks slowly. His English sounds so unsure.

You nod. “No… no Korean.”

A tiny, exasperated sigh comes from his lips and he looks around, as if anything inside this tiny little room would be able to help him communicate with you. Meanwhile, you turn back to the door and give it another sharp tug to no avail.

“No,” he says firmly, drawing your attention back to him. He motions down to the door handles and then shakes his head.

“No?” you repeat, a bit confused.

“No.”

Honestly, the primitive conversation between the two of you would be somewhat laughable if you didn’t feel frustrated beyond belief.

“Why?” you ask, becoming annoyed. Obviously, he knows something that you don’t.

The man blinks at you and shifts around nervously on his feet. His hands motion around as he tries to conjure up a sentence in English. “N… No. Closed?... Closed.” He nods, saying the word rather confidently.

Yes, you know the door is closed. But, why?

After a second, he sees that whatever he said evidently isn’t good enough, so he points back to the ATM, to the light that is now off due to no power, and then to the locks. You follow his pointing and the cogs in your brain start turning slowly.

“Fail-safe locks,” you state and then finally release the door handles.

“Fail… Fail-safe locks,” he repeats slowly. “Fail-safe locks.”

“Fail-safe locks?” you parrot his Korean back to him and he nods.

A small hum comes from your chest and you take a step back from the door finally. “How long do you think–” you cut yourself off when you look over at him. The man is staring at you, not following a word you’re saying.

Your hand comes up and you brush some wet hair off your forehead and then scratch the back of your head as a nervous tick. There’s no point in even asking the question, he won’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.

If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be a bit annoyed too. But at the same time, he’s already been kinder than most would be in this situation.

He’s locked in an ATM vestibule with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as him– in his own country. He’s been more than kind. Most people would just wave you off and forget trying to communicate at all.

But here he was, talking slowly and making sure you can understand what he’s saying. He’s going so far as to point around the room to make sure you understand.

The man notices you give up and he lets out a tiny sigh, turning to then peer out the glass doors at the streets of Seoul. There’s basically no one out there, everyone has taken shelter from the squall.

“We’ll have to wait until the police come to open the door.” He pats at his pockets, searching for his phone.

Even with how terrible your Korean is, you still pick up on a few words. “Police?” A beat. “Police?”

“Yes,” he answers in English, taking his phone out and tapping the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear. The man continues to look through the glass doors, watching all the different cars drive by, none of them police cars.

You decide to turn around, walking around the tiny room.

All of the lights are off except for the emergency lights. They cast a dull glow through the entirety of the vestibule. There's barely enough light to see from one side of the room to the other.

Rain starts hammering against the glass as the man speaks into his phone. “Yes, hi, hello. I am currently trapped with another woman inside the ATM vestibule of Metrobank Seoul… Namdaemunno… Yes, that one.”

Your ears perk up when he mentions the name of the bank and the address. Ah, he must have called the police. His face pulls into a slightly annoyed look, but he doesn’t speak with a hint of it through the phone, at least, not that you’re really able to tell.

The man says a few more words into the phone before he hangs up with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and then down his face in an exasperated fashion before turning to look at you. His mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it and he grimaces even more.

Your own features pull into a sympathetic expression and you look away, slightly embarrassed. Should you have learned more of the language before coming here? Absolutely. But at the same time, you didn’t have much time to prepare once you were told you had to travel here for business.

He shuffles from foot to foot and looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets and desperately trying to remember every English class he took in school.

“Police…” he says slowly, thinking through every word he wants to try and say. “Police are… busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yes. Busy. Busy with… car…” He brings both of his hands together and claps and then makes an explosion noise with his hands.

“A car accident?”

He snaps his fingers and points to you, as if you’re a team during a game of charades.

“Car accident,” he says in Korean.

“Car accident,” you repeat and he nods.

Despite the reality of the situation, you smile. The humor in all of this does not escape you. You decide to try and meet him halfway, even with your butchered pronunciation.

“Police… time… long?” Your head cocks to the side and you point to your watch. He shakes his head and shrugs in exaggerated movements.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. The accident was that bad, huh? No wonder the power went out then, the car must have smashed into electrical lines after that loud clap of thunder. This probably means all of the traffic lights and such are out too.

The police are most likely directing traffic and making sure no one gets injured; two idiots stranded in an ATM vestibule are the least of their concerns. Honestly, you can’t be in a safer place. Well, unless this guy is a murderer, but you haven’t gotten a harsh vibe yet.

You sigh and lean against the wall near the corner across from the ATM. Your body slides down to the floor and you stare straight ahead. It seems like you’re going to be in here for a while then.

The man takes one last look outside the doors before walking in your direction. He leans against the adjacent wall and takes a seat on the floor with you. His shoes almost touch the side of yours. It’s at this time that you let yourself take a moment to really look at him.

He has to be around your age; older than a college graduate but younger than someone settled into their career. Something that definitely doesn’t escape your attention is how… pretty he is. His skin is near perfect and so is his hair. Everything, down to the clothes he’s wearing, is absolutely flawless– and he’s only in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie!

Next to him, especially in your current drowned rat state, you probably look like something worse than a hot mess. You quickly comb your hair off your forehead once more and pull at your soaking wet clothes sticking to your skin.

The man’s lips purse for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, then promptly stops, opting for a grumble of frustration.

After a moment, an idea flickers through your mind and you hold up one finger to him to say ‘one moment’. You reach down into your pocket for your phone and take it out, tapping at a few screens and bringing up the Translate app.

‘What’s your name?’ you type into the phone and it immediately translates it into Korean below it. You turn your phone around and hold it up to him.

The man looks at you, then your phone, and his eyes light up. If you’re not mistaken, you even see a little bit of relief flash over his features. A tiny smirk pulls at one corner of his lips before he looks back at you.

“Minho,” he answers and motions to you.

“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, Minho.” You hold your hand out for a handshake.

Minho looks at your hand and his smirk gets wider before he grabs your hand and shakes it gently. The skin on his palm is so soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

After shaking his hand, you bring your phone back up to your face and type another sentence into the translate app.

‘I’m very sorry for not knowing Korean, I’m here on business.’

Minho looks at your phone, reading the statement before shaking his head and pulling out his own phone. He types away and then holds it up for you to read.

‘No need to apologize. With my line of work, my English should be better. It’s a very hard language to learn.’

A little laugh huffs from your nose and you nod and type.

‘Try learning Korean.’

Minho laughs with you and his smirk grows into a playful smile. Jesus Christ, this man is gorgeous. He looks down and taps a bit on his phone and then he holds it up to you. With the way his smirk pulls at his lips, it almost reminds you of a devious little cat.

‘I could tell you were a foreigner when you first came into the bank.’

Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, really?”

He’s chuckling when he brings his phone back to type more and then hold it up for you to read.

‘You don’t have an umbrella.’

Laughter leaves your lips when you read that and your head tilts back to rest against the wall. The wetness from your clothes is beginning to seep into your bones. Plus, the feeling of the fabric sticking to your skin is starting to become overstimulating.

But, you try and keep it together. You don’t really have another option at the moment.

You type a message back to Minho.

‘People tried to warn me about the Monsoon Season. As you can see, I didn’t listen.’

He reads your message and sucks his teeth with a smirk. Minho shakes his head and motions to the glass doors, as if to say ‘Look!’.

“I know, I know!” you laugh and look outside at the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. Puddles have turned into small ravines flowing down the sides of the road. Any car that passes by creates a huge splash as they pass through them.

Every once in a while, the sky will light up and thunder will follow it quickly.

Minho laughs with you. “Next time… you listen.” He nudges your leg with his foot.

You look over at him. “I will, trust me.”

A long look is shared between the two of you. There’s this tiny nagging feeling at the back of your mind, it’s that same feeling you get when you see someone in public that you swear you’ve seen before. Maybe he just has one of those faces?

No, you definitely haven’t met him before. You would remember if he was someone you shook hands with in the last few days. A man that gorgeous would never slip under your radar, you’re certain.

Minho stares back at you, eyes flitting about at your soaking wet hair matting to your skin. It looks like his one hand twitches for a moment and then he shifts in his seat.

Back to the app.

The two of you type away on your phones and hold them up at the same time with the exact same question on them.

‘What do you do for work?’

‘What do you do for work?’

Again, the two of you let out little huffs of laughter and he motions to you as if to tell you to go first.

So you do, you type down on your phone a little answer for him.

‘Right now, I’m only the assistant to a CEO for a huge company. Wherever he goes, I go. I write all his contracts; everything he does goes through me first. I’m more of an administrator than an assistant, though.’

Minho reads your answer carefully and then types out a small response with a tiny crease in between his brows.

‘Why do you say ‘right now’?’

A sad smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone to type out a response.

‘I studied hard and have a Mathematics degree. But no matter where I apply, they say I don’t have enough experience. Back in America, the job market is absolutely horrible. So, I’m stuck.’

Minho’s eyes scan through your message and a frown pulls at his lips. He looks back up at you, meeting your eyes and then back to your phone before he begins to type his own message.

Your silent communication warms your heart a little bit. The glow from his phone lights up his features and you study him carefully. His teeth poke out from his top lip– it’s absolutely adorable.

He seems to think for a long moment before his thumbs fly over his screen.

Rain is coming down in sheets outside the door, it’s the only other sound inside the room besides the light clicking of the haptics on his phone.

You reach back and once more run your fingers through your hair– it seems to be drying now, but not in a good way. The humidity of the rain is apparent in the way it's starting to frizz up.

Minho turns his phone around after a moment of typing.

‘I’ve heard about how hard it is to get a job in America, I’m very sorry it’s so unfair. For what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing wrong with the job you have now. Hard work is hard work no matter if it's an assistant or a scientist.’

His words strike a chord within your heart, they tug at your chest and at the corner of your lips which twitch into a wistful smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you say to him in Korean, looking directly into his eyes. Minho smiles back at you when he hears it.

“You are welcome,” he answers in English.

His smile seems so warm for a stranger. He looks at you as if you’re an old friend, not like a woman, still soaking wet from the rain, sitting on the floor with him inside an ATM vestibule. He’s so genuine.

After a few seconds of just looking at him, you bring your phone up to type once more.

‘Your turn. What do you do?’

Minho stares at your phone for a long time, seemingly reading the sentence over and over again. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth and he seems to weigh something in his mind.

His brown eyes flick to yours, then back to the phone, then back to you again before he looks down at his phone.

You never realized how much just body language alone can convey.

He types slower, his thumbs not moving as quickly as before. Why does he seem so apprehensive?

Eventually, he turns the phone around.

‘I’m an idol.’

“Oh,” you say softly. Your shoulders shrug a bit and you cock your head to the side. “Like a K-pop idol?”

Minho nods in response. “Stray Kids.”

The name rings a bell, it’s just one you’ve heard floating around for a few months now. You think one of your friends is into them, but you can’t remember. She’s into so many different groups, it’s hard to keep track anymore.

You type in your phone.

‘I’ve heard the name before. Weren’t you guys at the MET Gala?’

With a breathy chuckle, he nods. A smile spreads across your face.

‘Wow, I’m trapped in a room with a celebrity then. You know, people write stories like this.’

Your joke definitely lands because he snorts a huff of laughter as you type on your phone a little bit more after that.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t take pictures and post them all over Twitter or anything. This will just be a funny story for me to tell my friends when I get back home to America.’

“Thank you,” Minho says softly with genuine gratitude in his voice. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like being an idol. There probably wasn’t a single place he felt safe going to anymore. There are always cameras just waiting to take his picture.

‘When do you go back to America?’

‘In a few days. My boss loves to extend his business trips at the last minute. So, I could be here three more days or seven more days. It’s very hard to pack to come on these trips.’

A bittersweet expression settles on his handsome face.

You think for a long moment before typing away at your phone and showing it to him.

‘Have you ever been to New Jersey? That’s the state I’m from.’

Minho’s lips purse as he thinks for a long few moments. Very slowly, he nods, almost unsure. He types in his phone, then thinks for a moment, then types again.

‘I think we’ve been there twice. Is Newark in New Jersey?’

Excitedly, you nod. “Yes, that’s up in North Jersey!” You’re so excited that you forget to type down on your phone. “Oh!” you say with a laugh, looking back down at your phone.

‘Yes, that’s in the northern part of the state, about an hour or so from my hometown. I grew up in the central region, right on the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get to the beach from my house.’

Minho’s smile widens and he looks at you with a slightly envious look in his eyes. You giggle in response.

‘Two other members love the beach, but they’re from Australia.’

‘Australian beaches are probably not that different from American beaches. But I’ve never been to Australia. Have you?’

Minho nods and you see him close his translation app and switch over to his camera roll. His fingers quickly begin scrolling up through the countless amount of photos he has on his phone.

Not wanting to invade his privacy, you look away from his phone and out the doors in the vestibule once more. Not a single soul is walking– or running– along the sidewalks anymore.

Due to the power outage, there’s not even street lights illuminating in the puddles, it’s almost eerie looking. But, surprisingly, you don’t feel uneasy at all. Especially not with Minho sitting at your side.

Said man hums to get your attention, shuffling closer to you, and you look down at his phone. The picture is absolutely gorgeous.

It’s a photo of the beach, you’re assuming in Australia. The red sun is peeking above the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful wash of reds, pinks, and purples, all of the colors melting into one another. The clouds are wispy and glow in the morning sun.

The ocean seems so beautifully blue, even the foam at the crash of the waves is beautiful.

In front of the ocean is a gaggle of boys, it looks like there’s about seven of them. Each of them have bright, beautiful smiles on their faces reaching their eyes.

You’ve never been able to feel joy radiating from a photo like this, it seems to be contagious since you find a smile pulling at your own lips.

“This photo is beautiful,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of it.

Minho hums, maybe he understood what you said. His thumb moves and he scrolls to the next picture where two of the boys have taken one of the others by his legs and arms and seem to be pretending to toss him into the surf.

A soft giggle comes from your lips and you find yourself leaning towards him a bit to get a better look at the photo. Truly, you didn’t even notice your shoulders brushing against each other, and by his lack of reaction, it seems Minho didn’t either.

“Friends?” you ask him in your choppy Korean.

Minho looks over at you, his face closer to you than before. His eyes widen a bit at your proximity, but he doesn’t back up at all.

“Family,” he corrects you in his soft English.

An even warmer feeling spreads through your chest and you look back down at the photo. They must be his band members, but they just look so much closer than that. It reminds you of all of your friends back home.

Before you can even think twice, you’re opening your own camera roll, scrolling through an endless sea of memories before finding one specific morning you woke up to go watch the sunrise on the beach.

A tiny, awe-struck noise comes from Minho when he looks down at it.

“Sunrise,” you say and then think for a moment. You’re not sure of the Korean you want to say. “Favorite… time.”

He’s so patient when you speak, it absolutely melts your heart. There’s a different air about his softness with you too. He’s not treating you like a child just learning how to speak, no, he’s just being… nice. He’s being sweet and genuine and it speaks volumes about his character.

“Sunrise,” he says in Korean.

“Sunrise,” you repeat, looking up at him. His eyes were already trained on your face by the time you looked up. A tiny dusting of pink covers your cheeks. How long has he been looking at you?

A happy smile spreads over his lips, the edges curl up playfully. He nods. “Sunrise. Sunrise.”

“Sunrise.” Your voice says softly once more before looking back down at your phone.

Swiping through a few more pictures, you show him the boardwalk that runs down the beaches by your house. Everything from shops, to amusement park rides, to lemonade and ice cream stands litter the entirety of the shore.

He points down at the ferris wheel and shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.

“No?” you ask with a laugh. “Why not?”

“No… no high,” he shakes his head and motions his hands around to emphasize his point.

“Best picture,” you giggle holding your hand up in the air to emphasize the height aspect, then you’re swiping to the next picture taken from the top of the ferris wheel. This time, it was sunset. “Sunset.”

“Sunset.” A pause. “My… My… favorite time.”

A soft hum bubbles up in your throat. He loves sunset whereas you love sunrise. How cute.

“Sunset is beautiful,” you say slowly. Your eyes are still on your phone when you swipe to another photo.

“Beautiful,” Minho whispers softly.

Humming, you nod. “Yes, beautiful.”

A soft puff of air comes out of his nose and fans out over your cheek. When did he get this close? You look up at him and almost bump his nose with yours.

Minho’s head flinches back a bit at your sudden movement, but he makes no move to get further away from you.

He sighs softly, his eyes flitting all over your face, taking in every one of your features. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen, that pink blush making its way back to your face. You can’t even help the tiny, giddy giggle that bubbles in your throat. You look down shyly, biting your bottom lip.

Tender, gentle fingers lift your chin back up. Truly, you didn’t notice how cold your skin was until his warm touch spread on your skin.

Is this really happening?

A shiver races down your spine and a soft shudder comes out of your lips. Minho’s eyes look down at your lips and then down at your arm where goosebumps begin to raise.

He pulls away gently, making your brows furrow. Did you do something wrong? Maybe you misread his–

He’s shrugging off his hoodie.

Oh, he thinks you're cold.

Before you can even think to tell him you’re okay, he’s pulling your shoulder forward a bit so he can drape it over your back, bundling you up in such a pleasant, soft warmth. With small, fussy movements, he’s closing the hoodie around your body.

Perhaps you didn’t even notice how cold you were until you were suddenly surrounded in a warmth that can be compared to the fuzziest blanket you own. Not to mention the absolutely delightful scent that wafts upwards into your nose from the fabric.

It’s such a clean, cozy, calming scent. It’s like you buried your nose into the Mahogany Teakwood candle at Bath and Body Works.

Your eyes stay trained on his face while he bundles you up tightly. His hands gently grab your arms and rub up and down a few times to create even more warmth.

“Better,” he murmurs, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

How is it that a stranger has wormed himself into your heart like this? His tender gaze makes your soul feel calm, like those pictures of the morning surf under the sunrise.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to him. Your hands come up to grab at the hoodie, curling into the fabric.

Minho smiles back at you, you can see how his smile grows as he watches you relax into his clothing. There’s no space between your shoulders as you rest against adjacent walls, your two bodies have melted into the corner.

There’s a clap of thunder outside, but neither of you move. Your feet shuffle on the floor as you bring your knees closer to your chest. His legs adjust around yours, feeding them under your bent knees and tangling your limbs up further.

It’s so hard to break Minho’s eye contact, but you do it slowly, looking down at your phone and opening up the translate app once more. His soft breathing hits your cheek with every exhale.

‘You’re too nice to a stranger.’

Minho hums, almost in agreement. He picks up his phone and types back.

‘I’m usually not.’

You read the statement and then look at him, your head cocked to the side. Your brows furrow in confusion, but he types more before you can even ask another question.

‘I don’t know why I feel drawn to you.’

The text looks right back at you. Your heart flutters in your chest and you know that your cheeks get redder and redder by the second. Still, you can’t contain the giddy laugh that makes its way past your lips.

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and hide the smile, but it only makes Minho smile wider. His hand slowly comes up towards your cheek. Right before he’s able to make contact, he stops, hovering over your skin and gazing into your eyes.

A silent question is asked through his eyes. It’s a language that you don’t need any sort of app for. An answer is communicated right back.

Soft, tender warmth spreads over your cheek, radiating all throughout your body in the most gentle glow. His thumb caresses over your cheek bone, swiping gentle strokes back and forth.

You feel the same as him, that’s the strange part. There’s something so alluring about him that you just can’t put your finger on it. He’s pulling you in like a magnet and you don’t even want to fight against it.

There’s so many words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you know that each and every one of them would fall on deaf ears. Nothing that you can say in the moment would make sense to him.

Exhales are shared and mingled together in the minimal space between your faces,

“Beautiful,” he whispers for your ears only. Not like there’s anyone else to hear it except the ATM sitting dormant in the corner of the vestibule. Not even the mice in the walls would have been able to hear his murmur.

Love at first sight was something you always gawked and scoffed at. You always thought that it was such a Hallmark invention, that there was no way you would be able to just look at someone once and immediately fall head over heels for them.

But here you were, sitting on a dirty floor, feeling your heart beating faster and faster in your chest. Letting your face be cradled by a man you didn’t know two hours ago. By the man who patiently worked with you to communicate.

How is this even possible?

You can count on one hand the amount of things you know about one another.

Minho, who is a famous idol in Korea, who loves sunset and hates heights, who has the most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

Minho, who did whatever he could just to talk to you when he could have just as easily sat in silence on the other side of the vestibule.

His hand slowly drags down your cheek, each finger gliding down your skin towards your jawline to lift under your chin.

Another silent question passes through both of you in the one language you seem to both be fluent in.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and he hears you loud and clear.

Minho leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight touch. But, despite how soft the kiss is, heat spreads through your body in a grand wave, rushing through your fingertips and into your toes.

The first press is long and sweet, the two of you simply melting into the sensation of being locked together.

He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes gazing down at your lips before he swoops in again, this time his movements a bit quicker.

His hand returns to your cheek, guiding your head to tilt to the side to gain better access to your lips.

A soft sigh leaves your nose and your own hand travels up to grab at his shirt gently, just needing to hold onto him in any way possible.

Minho responds to your sigh, his lips moving a bit faster against yours. Both of your lips part and close, moving like mirror images of one another. Every few kisses, your noses brush against one another, but it doesn’t deter you from your actions at all.

Slowly, your hand travels from his shirt up to his neck, running up the side of his flushed skin. He feels feverish to the touch and it only spurs you on to keep moving. At the contact on his own body, Minho lets out a tiny grunt against your lips, his kisses stutter for a moment but he’s back to kissing you after just a moment.

Up, up, up, your hand travels over his moving jaw, to his cheek, then moving back to thread in his soft, brown trusses of hair. God, everything about him is just so perfect. It’s like you’re combing your fingers through the softest of cotton.

His kisses are getting deeper, little sighs come from both of your mouths as the passion continues on. Minho’s body turns towards yours a bit more, his knees canting up and almost forcing your legs onto his lap.

Tentatively, you feel his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking gently at your lower lip. You don’t even hesitate to give him access to your mouth. A gentle moan claws its way up your throat as his tongue licks into your mouth.

The hand on your cheek grips you a bit tighter, holding your face to his– as if you would want to try and move away from Minho and his addicting kisses.

“I just can’t help it,” he whispers in Korean against your spit, soaked lips before capturing them once more. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

All you catch is your name and it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t even need to know what else he said, his tone says it all. The way it comes out in a breathy exhale is enough to send your mind reeling.

“Please,” you murmur into his mouth before he presses his lips to yours once more with the same amount of passion and need in his actions.

More and more rain hits the glass doors, becoming the only sound that can be heard in the room except for your shared exhales, pants, and breathy moans.

Slowly, the kisses begin to calm down. Minho pulls away for a moment to take a long breath. His thumb moves to brush against your lower lip like a butterfly landing on a flower.

His eyes open just a crack, gazing down at your mouth with a hazy look in his eye. As he slowly catches his breath, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing along the heated skin on your face.

“Forgive me, I didn’t do things in order,” he whispers. “I should’ve taken you out first.”

Your eyes open and you look at him in confusion. “Hm?”

His jaw clenches before he swallows and he takes another long moment to look over your face, his features soft and welcoming.

There’s some movement as his other hand blindly pats around his lap for his phone. He can’t physically tear himself away from you long enough to even look down.

Another tiny laugh comes from your lips.

Your fingers move out of his hair to come around and gently run over his features, brushing against his jawline, to then trace up to his lips and up the length of his nose, memorizing each and every detail.

Minho melts into your touch, his face moving closer to your touch, seeking you out.

His hand finally finds his phone and he grabs it blindly, flipping it around in his lap and tearing his gaze away from your face to glance down at it.

Thumbs are flying across the screen to type at his translate app. He’s typing so quickly on his phone that you can't help but laugh a bit.

Before he’s able to turn the phone around, there are a few sharp knocks against the glass of the vestibule. The two of you practically jump out of your skin and your heads whip over to the doors.

Red and blue lights are flashing outside and it looks like two police officers are standing outside, peering in at you both. They wave when they see they’ve caught your attention.

Minho looks at the police officers, then to you, then back to the officers, and then back to you once more. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he tries to form a few words but you’re untangling your limbs from one another.

In a moment, you’re both on your feet as the officers work on unlocking the doors from the outside.

Minho gently grabs at your arm and you look down where he’s touching and your heart sinks a little. His eyes look a little questioning and desperate.

“Oh,” you say sadly. You shrug off his jacket, and hand it back to him. Minho’s eyebrows pull together and his lips part. He looks down at the jacket and then up at you.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Are you two alright?” The police officer calls inside in Korean.

“We’re okay,” Minho responds without breaking eye contact with you. He puts a hand on his jacket still dangling over your arm and pushes it back towards you.

“Minho?” you ask, looking at him and then at the officer approaching you both.

“We apologize for the delay, but we knew you two were safe, so we had to prioritize,” the officer says.

You blink at him blankly for a moment before then looking back at Minho.

“She’s a foreigner,” he says to the officer, finally looking away from you. “She doesn’t know Korean.”

“Ah,” the officer responds. “My apologies. You can tell her that she’s free to go.” He nods at the two of you and motions towards the door. You take his hint and slowly begin follow him.

Once again, Minho tugs on your arm and you pause, turning around to look at him. He’s holding his phone up to your face with a pleading look in his eye.

‘Can I please buy you a drink?’

A wide smile spreads across your cheeks and you can’t deny the relief that you feel inside your chest. The moment your lips twitch upwards, Minho immediately mirrors it.

“Yes,” you respond. “I love to go.”

He chuckles at your choppy Korean once more before taking his jacket out of your hands and wrapping you inside it once more. This time, he grabs the hood and pulls it up over your head.

With a satisfied hum, he nods and laces your fingers together.

“Come,” he says confidently.

“Lead way.”

Okay maybe I got to carried with the manhwa and all stuff but imagines okay, imagines..

Readers have been living with sully's family and then so suddenly they died because of well, sky people. And at the same time they remembers that they actually still did not live their life to the fullest so before they closed their eyes, the last thing they said to the character is "if I live in the next life... Let's be the happiest and change everything..together"

Well, here's what it is. What if reader got to go back in time before everything happened. Before every chaos happened. Maybe like before jake got serious with teyyam position or maybe they will try to follow lo'ak troubles antics and at last they got to change their fate by saving their family earlier.

But as eywa fate (I mean most of us should know) that life will need to pay with live. So maybe before the reader got to go back in time just maybe they talk with eywa and they say like give them a last chance to change their family fates and eywa gave them? But in order to do that after everything is finished she needs to die back because her time has actually already come. So the reader agreed.

The Sully's is so confused why with their way of acting so matured and why the reader did not act like their self usually does. And the only one who will come and try to confront is teyyam because the reader is hs favourite among the siblings (dont tell tuk) and he wants to get to the bottom of it.

So he asked but the only thing the reader said was "This is the end of my chapter even though my story never started before" and teyyam was hella confused. Like what the hell of this nonsense as if they're gonna die?

And the next day probably the day reader got clingy with jake and Jake did the same thing to the reader because honestly he missed these few things too. I like playing and laughing together. Same with Loak, kiri, tuk and neytiri. All of them spend time together and end the day with cuddling until they are asleep.

And the next day when neteyam woke up he felt weird because as always the reader was gonna be the first one to wake up and he tried to wake them up thinking that maybe they were just over asleep. But as he was shaking the reader's body his face changed when he realized that his sibling body had already turned cold as if being in the freezer.

And that's when neteyam realized what they said when he asked what was going on. And the only thing he can say when he sees his favourite sibling go back to eywa is "Your chapter already started before your story got to begin. Now lets end the chapter and open a new book"

Ok Im not good with english but if anybody wants to write these stories please tell me because Im too afraid to write it since my grammar just sucks af