#and yes i know you just mentioned family members but i had to shove my man in there somehow

[love-quinn]

—PEACE OF MIND

summary — when carmen finds out that you're putting yourself in danger to come in to your waitressing job at the bear, he admittedly gets pissed. he's not super proud of his reaction, but the two of you manage to work something out to ease his worries.

warnings — swearing, mentions of customers being assholes, the implication that if reader isn't being fed at the restaurant she doesn't eat due to money reasons, very brief mentions/implications of the possibility of reader being attacked at night

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her, reader is HEAVILY implied to be female, also there's technically no pronouns in this one but i consider this to be the same waitress reader as my last one which does have pronouns

word count — 1.9k

note — this can 10000% be read as a standalone but i do have another carmy x waitress fic here that i think takes place kinda in the same universe if you wanna check that one out?? i hope u enjoy <333

If you were somebody who wasn’t a fan of the cold, then Chicago wasn’t the city for you. It’s one of your least favourite parts of living in Illinois, having to wear four layers to bed if you don't want to freeze in your sleep. Your apartment doesn’t have proper heating because proper heating is for rich people, apparently. You barely make enough to afford rent as it is. 

You’re doing fine. You make rent and utilities, you eat lunch and dinner at the restaurant most days. You’re not swimming in gold coins by no means, but you’re fine. That’s the reason you show up early to every single shift, if you’re being honest, you’re guaranteed at least a sandwich. 

The fact that it makes you look like a dedicated employee doesn’t hurt either.

Even when you have to trek from the train platform after getting off the L. You’re not the first person punching in the code to the service entrance that afternoon, but the kitchen is free of yelling. Sydney’s at the end of the line, it’s her shift for Family, and she flashes you a smile as you shove your duffel into your locker.

It’s not raining outside but the air is so cold and damp outside, and you dab your face with a towel. The kitchen is so much warmer than outside that for a moment it’s uncomfortable. Sydney watches you out of the corner of her eye as she sautes a collection of vegetables. “Are you alright? Is it wet out there?”

You shake your head, grabbing your apron and using the mirror you hung up on the back of your door to fix your appearance. “Just cold, sorry. I’ll be fine. You get in okay?”

Sydney nods, holding out a spoon for you, hand cupped to prevent anything from landing on the floor. You don’t question it, opening your mouth and accepting the sauce while trying to minimise the contact between your mouth and the spoon as much as possible. “Fuck, that’s good. Is there sesame oil in there?”

You didn’t know a whole lot about food if you were honest, there’s a reason that you’re not a member of the kitchen staff. But Sydney’s been teaching you slowly but surely how to recognise different flavours, which ones go best together, which ones don’t.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! You like it?”

You shut your locker, moving to stand right behind her. Your chin lands on her shoulder, watching the way she rotates her medley of ingredients. You and Sydney have started becoming actual friends rather than just work friends, the two of you went out to dinner last Sunday, miraculously neither of you had to work. “Love it, need any help?”

“No, you’re all good. Go find Richie, I’m sure he needs help with whatever shit he’s doing.”

You leave her alone with a squeeze on the elbow, heading out into the dining room to find Richie. Richie isn’t out there but you do find Carmen pulling the chairs off the tables. You don’t bother talking, you and Carmen both appreciate the quiet in a workplace as loud as the restaurant. The second you put the first chair down Carmen is flinching. “You’re early,” he says, trying not to show his irritation.

He’d left the kitchen to feel productive while being alone, but he doesn’t want to yell at you. You deal with that enough. Yelling in the kitchen is natural, it’s fucking loud in there. If he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t get heard. People aren’t moving fast enough, people aren’t using proper technique, they’re running out of ingredients, things are being moved. If Carmen didn’t yell in the kitchen it would probably burn down somehow.

You deal with all that and you have to keep a smile on your face. You get yelled at for mistakes that other people make, and you never yell back. You take it all and yeah, sometimes you need to step out into the kitchen with tears in your eyes, but you cop it all and you go back out there.

You don’t need Carmy yelling at you as well.

You shrug casually, smoothing the tablecloth. “I am a slave to the public transit system.” It’s less embarrassing than admitting you’re trying to save money by eating at work whenever you can. 

Carmen stops at that. He doesn’t know why that’s surprising to him. He’s always here before you and he’s always here after you leave. He assumed he’d never seen your car in the parking lot because of that, but apparently, it’s because you don’t have one. “You took the train here?”

It’s early afternoon and people are turning their headlights on already. The closest train station is a fair walk away and it’s freezing out there. 

You nod, not taking much notice of the change in tone. “Yeah, I usually do.”

Carmen’s abandoned the table he’s dressing to turn around and look at you. It’s almost completely dark outside, it’s the middle of winter. “You walk to work?”

You look up at him. “Yeah, Carm.” You’re really hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on the way you avoid looking at him. 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” he doesn’t mean to snap, but the mood in the room is frozen now. “It’s like two degrees out there, why the fuck would you do that?” You regret coming out to help him. Usually, this stuff is already done by the time you show up to work, early as usual. 

You put down the last chair at the table you’re working on and brush off your apron. “It’s not like I have any other choice, Carmen,” you’re trying to keep your voice even. The dining room is empty, it’s still, and it feels much more awkward than having the conversation anywhere else would’ve felt. “I don’t really have many other options.” 

You look around the dining room and decide that leaving Carmen to finish setup isn’t an awful fate. 

“Yes, you do!” He doesn’t drop it. His fists are clenched at his side to stop him from flinging his arms up in frustration. “You have so many other options! Why did you pick the fucking stupid one?” You can handle being yelled at. It’s a part of the job. It happens to you every single day without fail. You can handle it.

That doesn’t mean that you have to take it from Carmen, though.

“Stop it,” you don’t raise your voice at him, but you’re not quiet either.

“I just don’t fucking get it,” he huffs. Once he’s started he can’t make himself stop. 

You sigh, loudly. “Yeah, I’m not asking you to, Carmen. Okay, but don’t treat me like garbage because I can’t afford a car.”

That’s the final straw in the conversation with him, and you turn to go back into the kitchen. Maybe Richie will be playing Angry Birds on his phone in the office and he’ll let you watch. Carmen’s frown deepens. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who gives a shit that you can’t afford a car?” He dodges the table he was working on and rushes to follow you. He’s a lot less graceful than you always are with it and that’s without the tray of drinks. “Do you see that shit out there?” He stands in front of you now, pointing a heavy, tattooed arm out at the front window. “It’s fucking Chicago. You can’t be walking here in twenty fucking degrees, honey! Do you not get that? Look at you! If someone pulls a knife on you out there what the fuck are you gonna do?”

You’re frozen in front of him now. He’s throwing so much at you that you don’t know what to say. 

He’s going back to setting up now, but as he turns he blows out a breath. “Get that through your fucking head, yeah?”

That’s the part that frustrates you the most. He does this all the time, he presents you with ten different problems and no solutions. You don’t need Carmen to tell you how to live your life when you’re struggling as it is. “How else do you want me to get to work? It’s either that or you find a new fucking waitress, okay? So can we let it go? What the fuck do you want me to do about it, Carmen? ”

Carmen doesn’t want to let it go. You take the train in the fucking pouring rain and walk every night only to be yelled at by a bunch of assholes over steak. 

“I want you to not walk through Chicago in the middle of the night!” He’s exasperated. “Yesterday you left after eleven, do you know how fucking dangerous that is? Fucking… Fuck?” It comes out as a question. “Why the fuck have you been leaving me here at night to go walk home alone? What the fuck do you think I’m here for?”

You’re getting upset by the yelling, and now that he’s said everything he needs to say he can see that he’s making you visibly panicked. “I don’t know what you want from me!” You let out finally, words exhaling from your chest with force. “Just tell me what you want or stop fucking yelling at me!”

He says your name quietly, letting out a frustrated huff. “Fucking- Okay. Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair and has to bend at the waist, leaning on the table you just fixed up, head buried in his arms. He takes a quick three second breather, trying to force down the ugly bubble of anger that’s rising familiarly to the surface, ready to spill out of his mouth. “If we are at the restaurant together and it’s the middle of the night, and I have a car…” he pauses, trying to give you time to follow along after previously overwhelming you. “... and you don’t.” You blink over at him. “Why the fuck would you not ask me to drive you home?”

“Because you’re my boss?” The answer comes easily, and it almost startles him how quickly you respond. “What? Why are you asking me this?”

Carmen knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t offer the same courtesy to Marcus or Fak or god forbid Richie. Sydney or Tina? If they asked, sure. But he would never stand in front of them in the dining room to yell at them for not asking. He likes to think it’s because he knows you’re different. You don’t yell back, you don’t antagonise him, you don’t push like they do. You handle it, and you’re gentle and you’re soft and for some fucking reason the idea of anything happening to you makes him feel like he has just been mugged in the street. 

“Just,” he waves a hand in front of his face. He can hear Sydney calling out, probably something important knowing her. “Please, honey, promise me that you’ll let me at least drive you to the fucking train station? Okay? For my own peace of mind. How far away from the station do you live?”

You tell him and he’s immediately groaning. “No, alright. I’m driving you home.” He sounds frustrated, not mad at you, but less than pleased. You don’t take it to heart. “Now please, go back inside the kitchen and fucking eat something, you’re giving me an irregular heartbeat.”

[sinsofbeauty]

Red Stained Sunflower

Fandom: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Use of Pet Names, suggestive nsfw content, Johnny being “nice”, minor kidnapping mention

Requested?: Nah

Overview: The only car breaks down and your father can’t afford to fix it. He doesn’t have many options, but when you suggest a certain someone to take a look at, he can't help but feel uneasy. Little did you know that decision will lead to a whirlwind of trouble.

A/n: Thinking about making it into a series, so let me know what you guys think! Enjoy!

Your father was very upset this morning, and you couldn’t quite figure out why. He was stomping around the house huffing and puffing, mumbling to himself as you fixed up some breakfast. Up the stairs, down the stairs, back into the work shed. It made you furrow your brows, bewildered by his behavior. You set the table and sat down hoping to find out the cause as he made his way into the room. You haven’t really seen him this irritated in a long time, and he moved around restlessly despite him taking a seat for the first time this morning… still quite agitated.

"The car is acting up again," he complained, shoving a forkful of egg and toast into his mouth.

“Again?” You ask, spreading butter on a piece of warm toast. “Daddy I told you it was bound to break. Why don’t you take it to the shop?”

Your father looked up, annoyed, and shook his head. "It's too expensive," he explained after swallowing a bite. "The fence is falling apart and the shed needs repairs. I can't afford to manage all that work on my own, and it would cost an arm just to get in there."

“You could always have Johnny take a look at it.”

Your suggestion made him pause, his gaze incredulous as you shrugged. "Johnny Slaughter?"

“Yes Daddy, Johnny Slaughter.” You replied.

His eyes dropped into something more serious than before, and you could notice the changes in his facial expressions. If he didn't appear to be worried about it, that is. "What's going on between you and that boy Y/n? People in the community are always talking about that family, you know.” This was his technique of lecturing you, making you look at him with utter boredom. "He and his family are equally dangerous! What happens if the rumors are true?” Indeed. Rumors. The ones where members of the Slaughter family kept individuals in a cellar to later consume them? Or the ones that they were ferocious and would try to eat anyone who approached their house? Yeah, those.

“What if they aren't though?” You retorted while arching your brow. “Given how much time I've spent with Johnny, I figure something would have happened by now.”

"You're still spending time with him?!"

Oops. Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to come out like that. As your father flailed his arms around, you were slumped in your chair, picking at your food. So, as he lectured you about your decisions, you carried on eating your meal silently. He mentioned the potential damage to your reputation and the possible consequences for your family. Although he had legitimate worries, you also knew that he had a history with them, which probably contributed to his strong opinions.

“Relax,” You said, waving a hand. “It’s been a little bit since I’ve seen him anyway. If he really wanted to eat me he probably would’ve come by the house.” Your father gave you a disgusted look, making you smile nervously before setting your fork down on your empty plate. "On a… serious note, just this once," you attempted to negotiate. "Let Johnny take a look at the car; maybe he won't charge much."

“Johnny Slaughter is nothing but trouble.” Your father mumbled.

"You already mentioned that," you retorted, raising your brows. "Daddy it could save us money if we give it a shot." You stood up from your chair taking your dirty dishes and shrugging your shoulders. By the look on his face, you could tell your father was debating long and hard about it.

Letting out a sigh, your father rubbed his temples. He shook his head once more in thought before lightly thumping the table. "Just this one time," he asserted. “I’ll check with them after breakfast.”

“I can always go now while you fix the fence.“

“I don’t want you standing mere feet in front of the Slaughter boy,” Your father said standing with his empty plate in hand.

“You really think he’s gonna do something?” You say, raising a brow at him before transitioning into the kitchen. The long pause caught you off guard, considering that you expected your father to say something snarky or a short insult about Johnny. Though nothing came.

Your father had made his way into the kitchen, dumping his plate into the sink with his utensils. He gave you a firm look, his jaw clenched together tightly. "Check with him after the dishes while I try to fix the fence. If you're not back by lunch, I'm calling the sheriff."

You smiled and nodded while placing your own dishes in the sink. You hadn't seen Johnny in some time, primarily because your father didn't approve. Though he undoubtedly had little choice given the circumstances, you knew he would keep his word.

——

You arrived at the Slaughter House after what seemed like a never-ending trip. Having taken the back way since it was a little faster, it led you to the backyard which seemed for the most part unoccupied. You peered across to check if anyone was working yet as you leaned on the wooden fence. If it wasn’t Johnny it was most certainly Sissy prancing around here, roaming the sunflower fields in her bare feet. You briefly blinked, but you couldn't make out a single individual anywhere. It could have been simpler to go the long way to the front. However, just as you were ready to walk away, Sissy appeared from one of the back sheds. She doesn’t notice you right away, but when she does she approaches the fence, face once stoic turning into something… unusual. Almost like a fake smile, nothing enthusiastic whatsoever.

“Oh that’s who it is,” She said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lookin’ for Johnny?”

Your eyes swept the surroundings as you furrowed your brows and nodded. “Uhm yeah… I wanted to talk to him. Is he here?”

“Of course ya’ do,” She said, looking at you up and down. The woman had turned her back to you before calling out his name, walking away completely as she made her way towards the shed she was just in.

Your eyes avert back to the shed, seconds later seeing Johnny peek his head out. Sissy gestures behind her and says something that you couldn’t quite hear, but it prompts Johnny to tuck something away and head over. Never have you seen a man jog so fast in his life.

“Hey sunshine!” As a silly grin developed on his face, his voice resonated in your ears. He walked up to you with his head tilted to the side and his thumbs in his belt loops. “Finally came ta’ see me hm? I thought I’d have to kidnap you from yer old man.”

You smile softly, watching as you take a step away from the fence. “The old man is the reason why I didn’t come.” You spoke to him. “I thought you’d be mad about it.”

“Mad?” Johnny chuckled as he leaned his arms on the fence. “Bein’ honest? I knew ya’d come crawlin’ back, ya’ can’t resist me~.”

You rolled your eyes at him with a smirk, making him cackle in response. Johnny had a tendency to be quite… charming. Flirtatious if you might say. He was a very attractive man and he knew that, with a simple snap of a finger he could probably get a dozen women on their knees. Maybe it was one of the reasons why he would get so many lingering stares when he’s in town. It’s not like you haven’t seen him there getting stuff like tools or groceries. The man could be persuasive as well. If it wasn’t for his good looks and deadly charm, your intentions would probably be… elsewhere.

“I suppose the reason you’re here isn’t jus’ ta’ see me, is it?”

You suddenly look up at Johnny, who is grinning slyly with his thin lips. Before shrugging your shoulders, your nose lets out an amused huff. “You can say that’s part of it,” You reply, making his grin widen. “Though I needed to ask a favor.”

“Anythin’ for you doll,” Johnny said to you. “What is it ya’ need?”

“Well the car is out of commission, not sure why. Was wondering if you could take a look at it?”

Johnny nodded his head and looked over his shoulder, gazing at Sissy who had just walked into the house. “Oh sure, it shouldn't be too hard now should it?” He said looking back at you with a raised brow. “Did ya’ tell yer old man?”

“I made the suggestion.”

“How’d ‘e take it?”

“You know daddy doesn’t like you all that much.”

Your sentence caused Johnny's eyes to flinch suddenly, and his jaw to clench slightly before briefly relaxing. “I could really care less ‘bout what ‘e thinks.” He replied with the small shrug of his shoulders. “But ‘e agreed did ‘e?”

“With a little convincing yes,” You replied with the nod of your head. “I was hoping you could possibly stop by today?”

“I can go righ’ now if ya’ want to.”

“That would be great.”

Johnny nodded his head and pushed himself off the fence. “Alright, I’ll go get the truck. Comin’ inside?”

You shook your head no. You expected yourself to be swarmed with his family. They did ask a lot of questions and you didn’t want to be bombarded to answer. Which honestly made you curious, considering what they ask is quite… strange. “No but thanks, I'll start heading home. I’ll meet you there.”

——

The lemonade you had prepared hadn’t been long. It was sweet, and tasted amazing. You hummed taking a sip from your own cup, setting it down on the counter before pouring another glass. Transitioning to the back door you take a glimpse through the window, which made you stop completely in your tracks.

There he was, the Slaughter boy working on the car out back. His slicked back hair came undone while little strands stuck to his forehead, the one he wiped sweat off from due to the heat from the Texas sun. Gloved hand reaching down to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to wipe his drenched face. Those muscles, his toned frame as he turned slightly, all so shaped with scars of an unknown origin. It made your face heat up, cheeks dusted with a bright blush that only darkened when you stepped away from the window. Johnny was a fine looking man, and there was no doubt in his mind that you had some hidden feelings for him.

You opened the door to the back porch, a glass of cold lemonade in hand. Your thin flats make way to Johnny, strolling in your shirt and shorts. Jeez it's hot out. The closer you got to Johnny just showed how drenched he was in sweat.

“How’s it going?” You ask, finally approaching Johnny with the glass. “I got you this, you look like you need it.”

Johnny’s brown orbs flicked over to you, his brows raising in an instant. “You’re a sweetheart ya’ know that,” A smile spreads across his cheeks. Taking the glass from you he sighs, putting it up to his lips and taking large gulps from the beverage. You couldn’t help but stare, and when he was done he licked his lips before looking at you. Look at him all smug, the man chuckling as he took the hood of the car and slammed it shut. “Like whatcha see darlin’?”

You pucker your lips and blinked in shame, realizing you had been staring at him intently. Then you grunted and crossed your arms as the person in front of you laughed. Such a confident smile on a man. It surprised you that you didn't seem to care about it as much as you implied. “I’d like to see if the car is fixed,” You replied with the simple roll of your eyes, making Johnny take the keys from his pocket and wave them in your face. With that, you went to grab them but he pulled his hand back.

“I have a question for ya’.” He blurts, the keys still in his possession. “I remember the las’ time ya’ said somethin’— when ya’ came over. ‘Bout the sunflower fields, yeah?”

You blinked at his question, nodding your head in response. “Oh… yeah, I think I remember.” Raising your brows you thought about it for a moment. “I think it was how pretty they looked in the evening. Though I didn’t get to stay for long.”

You recall it clearly leaving at that time. In your short sundress, you stood next to Johnny as he leaned his back against his truck while you spoke. The man had just finished his cigarette, leaving a difficult day at the back of his boot. Before you arrived, the brunette and a member of his family got into an argument. In any case, that is all he told you. You had just mentioned the sunflower fields and how much you cherished the scene each time you visited. How lovely they appeared in the garden in the waning evening light.

During that time you had caught Johnny staring, his brown orbs gazing from where he leaned at on the side of the car. You had made a comment, making him smirk and push himself off the vehicle. “You’ve got some nerve sunshine,” His voice all teasing as he took your wrist. The man had pulled you close to him, the heat from his body signaling your proximity. “We’re all alone out here. If I wanted ta’ ‘stare at you all night’, I know jus’ the way to do it~.”

The reality that was only intensifying your blush had slowly crept back into your thoughts. Johnny had drawn nearer to you, which you suddenly realized. His face was incredibly close to yours—just inches apart. You raised your head to see him as his eyes played with a sly sparkle.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout it too?” His tone of voice was playful. Given that you didn't react, he laughed. “I know ya’ are darlin’, considerin’ I have it on my mind.”

Your breathing quickened, and it seemed as though a simple step or downward lean would practically close the distance between you. You couldn't speak because your stomach was churning with butterflies.

“I almost had ya’, if it wasn’t for Sissy butting into what didn’t concern her.”

Johnny didn’t have to say much to make you feel flustered, let alone so excited by him. His words had made your thighs press together slightly, in an attempt to hide that feeling which pooled in the pit of your abdomen. Oh and did he notice. He was observant to say the least, so of course he noticed the subtle movement of your thighs just clamping together. Pressing together at his words that you knew in some ways were true.

“How cute,” He teased, making your eyes widen slightly. “And ta’ think— you didn’t want me, but look at cha’. Holding those cute little thighs taa’ hide what I do to ya’.”

“No! That’s not true!” You fought with him, taking the keys from his hands while he was so distracted. Johnny chuckled as you moved quickly to the driver’s side door, opening it and hopping in. Putting the key into the ignition, you look over at the man who was gesturing you to roll the window down. With a loud huff you did. Set his arms on the opening of the window, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” He responded. The young man watched as you turned the car on, the engine running to life and your face lighting up in the process. “Good as new. Jus’ a couple loose wires and bolts.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” You thank him, turning the car off. “Now I don’t have to walk miles just for a carton of milk.”

“You’ve been walkin’?”

“It’s been an on and off issue.”

Johnny raised his brows at that, but shrugged his shoulders moments later. “Well if it breaks down again, come by and see me.”

“Why thank you,” You roll your eyes and open the door to the car, making Johnny step away as you pull yourself out. “It’s getting close to lunch time, would you like something to eat while you go home?”

When it was time to close the door, you noticed that Johnny had been creeping up again. When you turned, he was as close as he had been before. It was like a predator stalking his lonesome prey, all alone with nowhere to go. He wrapped his thumbs in his belt loops, eyes glancing at the house before his full attention on you. “Shooin’ me ta’ leave already?” He grinned, making you roll your eyes again.

You cross your arms, this boy had some nerve. Standing so dangerously close and making those remarks. “I was trying to be nice.”

“So sweet,” Sarcasm poured from his lips as a large smile curled. “But sure, as long as it's as sweet as you~.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You could feel your face start to heat up again, oh did it amuse Johnny. His charm worked without even having to break a sweat.

“Playin’ dumb hm?” He had a cheeky smile on his face. “If ya’ want, I can get inta’ more detail.”

You were hesitant, feeling the raw stare of questioning eyes from afar. The tilt of Johnny’s head fuels your hesitation but only momentarily. “Johnny you shouldn’t be so close,” You say, your eyes wandering to the window who you expected your father to be watching. They widened and went back to Johnny immediately. “Daddy’s watching us.”

Johnny’s eyebrows come close together, making the bridge of his nose scrunch light folds. “And?” His voice lowers an octave, eyelids lowering to a half lidded stare. “Could stare all ‘e wants.” His eyes lower into a half lidded stare, his smile fading away. He looked… dangerous. “Ya’ liked those sunflower fields huh? Why don’t cha’ come by this evenin’ after eatin’?”

“You know I can’t do that…”

A hint of disappointment sparkled in Johnny’s eyes. “Why not?” His voice sounded almost monotone.

“Because—“

You hear the back porch door open, turning your head to see your father walking out of the house. Johnny took the opportunity to step back from you, moving his way to the front hood of the car. Despite your father’s efforts, he still had a suspicious look on his face. He approached the two of you, his hands once shoved in his pockets now out as he moved around to the side of the car where you were.

“Is she fixed?” He asked, Johnny nodding his head.

“Yessir, jus’ a couple wires and bolts.” The Slaughter boy replied. “Shouldn’t be any issue fer now, but yer more than welcome ta’ stop on by if it happens again.”

Your father nodded, inspecting the vehicle and getting the keys from you. “I’mma take her for a drive, see if she’s running properly. I… appreciate your help… Johnny.”

The grin on his face told you plenty. “Anytime.” Johnny said to your father.

The man who raised you had given you a side eye, taking a sigh before going to the car. He had hopped in and both you and Johnny moved away. “Did you want to come?” He had asked you.

“Oh no, I’ll get dinner ready.” You said waving your hand. “You’re just going to town right? It should be almost done by the time you get here.”

Your father had indicated that it wouldn't be long by nodding. He was aware that leaving you with Johnny could lead to problems, but since you were an adult, he couldn't stop you from doing it. After saying that, he drove off the property while you closed the fence in his absence. You watched as he proceeded down the road until, at last, the car was no longer in view.

“So… about the fields.” You turn to Johnny, who you had heard from behind you with his heavy boots. He’d been smoking a cigarette, the bud stuck in his mouth while his hand shoved something in his back pocket. “You said after supper?”

“Ohhh, are ya’ considerin’?”

“Shut up,” You scoff, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you say please… I might consider it.”

“You’re kiddin’?” You smile and shrug your shoulders, making Johnny roll his eyes with the click of his tongue. “Please?”

“You could do better.”

It made him laugh, shaking his head with a malicious smile. He had cleared his throat, leaning in close to you before he purred a low, “Please~?”

It made you blush deeply, before coughing softly to look away. “Okay… you’ve convinced me.” Side eyeing him, you smirk. “Could’ve been better.”

“Cheeky lil’ thing aren’t ya’?” He scoffs. “I’ll see ya’ later then, sweet pea.”

Tags: @optimsluv

Part 2 is up! >> RSSF PT.2

[jjkamochoso]

Hii!! I'm always hanging out in your askbox, sorry about that! I've got another Feitan request! A Feitan x Female Reader who, similar to my other requests, is normally an outgoing person with a girly personality, but behind closed doors she really appreciates a peaceful atmosphere. Maybe the two of them decided to stay together off troupe duty at a rented place or hotel, and she's less bubbly than Feitan is used to her being with the troupe around. Not that she's any less smiley, just a lot more quiet than she usually is. Bonus points if it's raining outside and they can enjoy the sounds of it together in a dimly lit room! Sorry if that was really specific, feel free to change it up if you like!! Thank you!

I LOVE that you’re always requesting omg don’t apologize!! I love writing for you guys and talking with you all about anything and everything so feel free to keep sending in whatever, whenever!!😁🫶❤️ this idea is SO good and I’m grateful you entrusted me with another wonderful request!❤️ thanks so much and I really hope you love this!!

Lightning Strike of Love

Fluff

Feitan Portor x f!reader

Warnings: slight mentions of violence

“So we’ll meet back up in a few days, right?”

“That’s right. Don’t have too much fun on your off time without me,” Phinks replied to you, shooting you a playful wink.

“We have free time?” asked Shizuku, confusion etched on her features.

Machi sighed. “Yes, Shizuku. You’ve know about this for weeks, remember?”

The girl’s big eyes blinked behind her large glasses. “No.”

Machi pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers in exasperation. You giggled as you listened to your fellow Phantom Troupe members talk about what they were doing in the upcoming down time allotted. You were sad that you weren’t going to be spending more time with them because they truly were your best friends and closest thing you had to a family. You were, however, looking forward to the peace and quiet of not being on a mission for once.

“Where you going?”

Feitan, stealthy as ever, made you jump involuntarily with the sound of his voice right near your ear. He snickered at your reaction, cocking his head as he awaited your answer.

“I rented a hotel room in the quiet part of the city. I figured it’s a good place to relax for a bit,” you said. “How about you? What’s your plan?”

“Nothing. I stay here.”

“At the base? By yourself? On our vacation?!” you asked incredulously.

“Tch. What else I supposed to do? I wait for you all to come back.”

“But won’t you be lonely?”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Why don’t you stay with me?” you suggested, stunning him completely. You leaned in towards him, smiling sweetly and lowering your voice. “I enjoy your company, Feitan. I’d really miss you if you weren’t there.”

Feitan’s heart wasn’t used to beating as quickly as it was and his cowl wasn’t doing any favors to cool his neck that was burning from your saccharine words. He wanted to accept your offer but if you kept gazing at him with that honeyed expression, he’d never survive the trip.

“Tch. You sappy,” he remarked, shoving his fidgeting hands in his pockets.

You checked the time on your phone. “So, wanna join me? The taxi will be here in about 10 minutes.”

“Fine, I go with you. But I not paying for anything,” he teased.

“Neither am I. A dead guy’s credit card will get you anything you want,” you told him, grinning triumphantly. “Now, go pack! We don’t want to keep the driver waiting!”

A suitcase, a suspiciously small duffel bag, and a taxi ride later and you and Feitan had arrived to the hotel.

“Why so fancy?” Feitan wondered, staring up at the old building with curiosity. Columns and arches were in abundance and the weighty, gold handled doors to the lobby were at least double his height. As you checked in, he took note of the indoor fountain and scoffed.

She out of her mind. This place ridiculous.

“C’mon, Fei! Our room is ready!” you called, beckoning him over. He obliged, still shaking his head at your go big or go home tendencies. You were always so bubbly and were attracted to sickeningly pretty things (hence the choice of hotel). He never understood how you two got along so well; you were polar opposites.

“I’m so excited to see our room!” you squeaked, clasping your hands together in anticipation as the elevator brought you up to your floor. Feitan couldn’t lie, he was looking forward to having you all to himself for the next few days, no longer losing your attention to the other Troupe members. He smiled from under his cowl.

Our room. With my girl.

You pulled out the key and opened the door. When you saw the room, you almost started crying. It was absolutely beautiful! The fluffy beds were calling your name and right after you put your suitcase in the corner, you kicked off your shoes and laid down, closing your eyes and quietly enjoying the silence that had filled the room. After a while you heard Feitan ruffle through his bag before lying down on the other bed. You peeked an eye open and saw he was reading a book.

“Oh, that was a good idea. I should’ve brought a book, too,” you said thoughtfully.

“I have extra in bag. You can get one.”

“Thank you! That’s very kind of you.”

His bag, filled only with books, made you screw your nose up in slight disgust.

“Where are your extra clothes?” you asked, afraid to hear his answer.

“I no bring. These fine for a few days.”

You grabbed the first book you saw, deciding to deal with that situation later. “Trevor Brown? I don’t know any of his works.”

Feitan chuckled. “Just look at it. You might like.”

After a few pages, you had seen enough.

“It’s a little too dark for me,” you explained, putting it back, which caused Feitan to laugh harder. “I know there’s a bookstore around here somewhere. That might be fun to do tomorrow.” You paused. “And I’ll take you shopping.”

After you resumed your position on the bed, Feitan enthralled in his book, you felt a chill blow through you. Since the hotel was older, the windows let in cold air so you were grateful that there was a fireplace in your room. With a click of a button, a warm fire began to roar and you smiled to yourself at how perfectly domestic this whole situation was. Having Feitan all to yourself in a place like this was a dream come true to you. You snuck a glance at the man as he read, his hair slightly hanging over his face, his lips, no longer covered by the cowl, pursed in concentration; he looked handsome beyond belief. Not wanting to disrupt him with your staring, you changed gears and grabbed the comforter from your bed, wrapping it around your shoulders. You then pulled a chair in front of the window and stared at the beauty outside, getting lost in your thoughts.

Feitan, on the other hand, was looking forward to you starting your cheerful chatting like usual. He was patiently waiting to hear your voice chirp up, talking animatedly about things that happened that day or what was on your mind. If anyone else spoke as much as you did, he would’ve sewn their mouths shut, but he tolerated—no, genuinely liked—your incessant jovial jabber.

“Why you no talk?” he asked, pulling you from your daydreams.

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“You never stay quiet, you always talk.”

“Are you complimenting me or insulting me?” you joked, but Feitan was looking at you with such a serious face that you immediately stopped teasing.

“Around the others, all day long, talk, talk, talk,” he said, opening and closing his hand in a gesture to mimic you speaking, “but with me, you silent. Why?”

“That’s easy,” you replied, wearing a soft smile, “you make me feel relaxed. At ease. I love to speak with everyone, yes, and I especially love talking with you, but when it’s just me, or just us, like this… I like the calming environment.”

“Oh.”

Feitan was clearly embarrassed by his assumption, although he did think it was good to learn that you two weren’t total opposites after all, since he cherished his quiet time as well. You were completely unbothered by his question but you still tried to reassure him in your own way without making him feel silly. You picked up the big black book that was resting on the nightstand and took up the spot next to Feitan on his bed, your arm brushing up against his.

You opened the book to a menu. “How about we order some room service?”

After ordering and eating practically everything from the menu, you and Feitan were happy as could be. You two shared nice conversations over dinner, Feitan ecstatic at hearing your bad jokes and sparkling laughter, and you were feeling grateful that you were going to be able to share moments like this with him for the next couple of days. When the last of the empty plates were left outside your hotel room door to be picked up, you locked the door and got your pajamas on since nighttime had almost arrived. You exited the bathroom in your cozy attire and sat on your bed once more, feeling Feitan’s gray eyes watch you the entire time.

“Yes?” you asked, wrapping yourself in the comforter again.

“Nothing,” he blurted out, tearing his gaze from you. You giggled, browsing through a magazine provided by the hotel. You were about to turn on the lamp to continue reading when all of a sudden, you heard tapping on the window. You peeked out and saw rain had begun to fall. The last remnants of the sun’s rays were snuffed out by dark clouds hovering in the sky above you and your stomach fluttered at the change of weather. Hearing the droplets hit the building was sending you into a state of pure bliss and there was only one thing that could make it even better.

“Feitan?”

There was no answer but you knew he was listening.

“Come lay next to me.”

Again, no answer.

“Please? I don’t bite.”

“I do.”

Your eyes found his in the dark but he showed no sign of yielding to your request. “Forget I said anything. I’m sorry for pushing it.”

You weren’t going to force him to do something he didn’t want to do. You knew he had an aversion to any sort of touch that wasn’t tortuous, but you thought for sure he would at least sit on the same bed as you. You sighed wistfully as you leaned against the headboard, wondering if Feitan knew of your romantic feelings for him and this was his way of rejecting them. To your total surprise, you felt your bed dip as another body climbed on the mattress.

“You no apologize, don’t be stupid.”

This time it was Feitan who brushed his arm against yours as he climbed into the warmth of your comforter, leaving goosebumps where he touched. You two sat together, no sounds to be heard except for the falling rain and far off thunder. The hotel room was dimly lit by the fireplace and you were admiring the flicker of flames that highlighted Feitan’s profile. The tranquility you were experiencing was unmatched by anything else on this earth and you wished life could be like this all the time. You didn’t know what possessed you, or what wrath you were about to face, but your body moved on its own in its reach for Feitan’s hand.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” you whispered, your rationality catching up to your actions. Right as you were about to grasp his hand, a loud clap of thunder had you pulling back in shock.

“I no say stop,” said Feitan, closing the space between you by placing his hand on top of yours. You turned to look at him fully and he met your gaze for only a second before studying the fireplace instead. In that second, though, you saw more than just flames blazing in his irises—

You saw love.

Taglist: @killuagirly

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Invisible Smoke - Three

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he finally gets some answers.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 9k ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED

A/N: I apologize for the delay and thank you all so much for the love on the last chapter. Life has been a little overwhelming lately. Work has been hectic and I had a close family member pass away. I am hoping to come up for air soon. Thank you for your patience. And I do feel the need to reiterate that I DO NOT keep a tag list. Sorry!

Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, themes of stalking, cursing, mentions of bodily harm/injury, domestic abuse, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

What could you possibly say? The truth was out of the question, at least the entirety of it was. You couldn't and wouldn’t drag him into this more than he already was. Jake deserved better than being wrapped up in your mess. “I got caught up in something above my paygrade a few years ago. Thought I had left it in the past. I’ll take care of it.” You took the Polaroid from his hand and threw it into the footwell in front of you before making sure to press your shoe over it.

Jake was quiet as he started your car and pulled out of the lot, turning toward the direction of your little bungalow. Maybe you should have been surprised he knew the way—he’d only come over with the rest of the Daggers twice and Bradley had been driving—but for some reason it just made sense. Of course Jake would know. His jaw was shut tight, you could see the tendons working as his teeth ground together. But just as quickly as you noticed it, he relaxed. But he didn’t move to turn the radio to a different station or raise the volume. He just kept driving.

The rollercoaster of emotions you’d just endured had you sagging in your seat. While your tears had slowed to a leaky trickle, they didn’t stop. And you wanted to scream, to rage at the cruelty of it all, but mostly what you wanted to do was crawl into bed after making sure your door and windows were locked.

He’d ruined your night. He had somehow found out you were going to the Hard Deck and had purposefully planted that picture. You were almost surprised that he hadn’t slashed your tires when he had the chance, too.

But it mattered little when Jake pulled into your driveway and handed you your keys after shutting off your car. He followed you up to the small, stone stoop and waited until you waved him in to step inside. You felt his eyes on you as you turned the locks on your door and then double-checked the one on the handle before you wiped at your face. Mascara and foundation smeared against your hand and you grimaced as you noticed it. Fantastic.

“Do you want a drink or something? I’m going to call you an Uber but before then? I have tea, water, and soda I know you won’t drink. I don’t keep alcohol in the house, sorry.” You were rambling, you knew that. But did you stop? No. “I can also order something for delivery, if you want.” You sniffled and tried to resist the urge to wipe at your face again.

Jake’s shoulders rolled as if he were trying to shake off a bug before he shook his head. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed, Punch? I’ll wait out here.”

That sounded like he was staying. And, really, you knew you should be shoving him out the door and into an Uber you knew would take him back to his car and far away from you and the disaster that was your life. But you still nodded, trying to ignore how you liked knowing he’d just be in the living room, waiting. “Feel free to snoop,” you said, retreating down the hall.

“I’m not going to snoop!”

“Yes, you are.”

**

And then, as soon as Jake heard your bedroom door close, he started to snoop. He did have your permission anyway and that half-assed answer you gave him wasn’t sitting right in his gut. Your little house was neat, if not in need of a bit of dusting. Art prints in soft greens and light yellows were hung in straight lines with personal photographs, in smaller silver frames, dotted between. A bookshelf took up an entire wall and was organized by last name…except for the bottom shelf that was mostly empty with just a small stack of lilac spines and silver lettering. Jake bent to get a better look but paused, spotting two large but thin frames tucked behind the bookcase. He tugged one out and saw that it was your undergraduate degree from some university up the coast. The next frame held your Masters Degree. Both were covered in dust and forgotten about. Almost like you had purposefully shoved them away. Carefully, Jake put them back and tried not to think about why you wouldn’t want them displayed, and instead grabbed one of the lilac books. It didn’t have a traditional cover, just the title: Sunlight Filtered Through Champagne. Below it was a small sticker with “ARC” typed out in bold white letters. Turning the book to look at its spine, the author’s name now accompanied the title: Georgia Torrance. There was a small note sticking out of the top and Jake slowly pulled it out to look at. Thought you may want it in your hands! Can’t wait to see what you come up with next! What did that mean?

When he heard your door open again, he was quick to put the note and book back and stand straight, trying to make it look like he was just looking at the thriller paperbacks on the shelf at his eyeline. It looked like you had a grading system on the shelf, too, scribbled on a small post-it note, denoting happy endings and not-so-happy endings. There was also a note to donate all of the not-so-happy ending books.

It was like you needed hope that a bad situation could end on a good note. And then there were all the locks on your door. The handle of a baseball bat was sticking out from under your little couch. Your curtains were not open when you arrived. You couldn’t read thrillers that ended badly because you were living in a fucked up one yourself, weren’t you?

“I got caught up in something above my paygrade.”

The words didn’t sit right with him. This wasn’t some sort of government cover up. This wasn’t a case of you seeing something you shouldn’t have. The note had been too familiar and the photo had been too intimate.

“You look like you’re trying to think,” you said.

Jake turned and almost swallowed his tongue as he looked at you. You’d switched out your sundress for tiny shorts and socks that went up to your thighs. A baggy Navy t-shirt nearly covered your shorts. You looked so soft, so comfortable even with your eyes still a little swollen from your earlier tears. And it twisted at something warm behind his ribs.

“Careful, you might pull something if you try too hard.” The insult was lacking its usual heat but Jake hardly noticed. Something else had gained his attention. A large gnarled scar was peeking out from under your shorts on your left leg. It reached halfway down your thigh and Jake couldn’t see how high up it went. Whatever had happened, it looked like it had hurt immensely. Then he remembered how the slits in your dresses were always on your right side. Your shorts, while tight, always reached your knees. You had been hiding it.

Who had hurt you?

He must have been staring too long because you angled your body away from him and cleared your throat. “I’m gonna call you an Uber. Sorry for my freak out earlier. You coulda been home and asleep by now. Or picking up someone at the Hard Deck. God, I really fucked up your night.”

You were rambling again. And maybe Jake would have found it endearing in any other circumstance but not when you were twisting your hands into the excess fabric of your shirt and shuffling away from him to grab your phone.

Slowly, as to not startle you, Jake reached out and gently took the phone from your hands and set it on the couch cushion. Your face scrunched with your confusion and the divot between your eyebrows only deepened when Jake set his hands on your shoulders. “You gonna tell me what actually happened?”

Your features shifted and shuttered, falling into the casual annoyance you usually wore around him. “I told you-”

“Yeah, you told me something. Now tell me the truth. I was in that car with you tonight, Punch. I saw how scared you were. A picture had you just as scared as nearly getting run off the highway. Tell me what is going on, please.”

Your jaw clenched and you wiggled out from under Jake’s grip. “So you’re calling me a liar now?”

“No! I just-”

“I’m sorry you got pulled into this, okay? I am. I never should have brought you to the party. You never should’ve been in the car.”

You weren’t getting it. He needed you to understand. “I’m glad I was with you! I’m glad you had me with you—but you can’t just tell me that you have it handled or brush it off because-”

“I’m not brushing anything off!” You snarled. “Stop trying to play hero!”

It may have been easier if you had just slapped him. Was that how you saw him? “I’m not playing at anything. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me try.”

The glint in your eyes was near murderous. Jake had only ever seen you look like this once before and it had been when some asshole had yanked on Penny’s arm at the Hard Deck. “Just stop! I-”

“I know something is going on. You can’t convince me otherwise, all right? My mama always said that if you smell smoke, it’s ‘cause there’s a fire.”

You wiped a hand over your eyes and Jake hated how he noticed your chin wobbling. “Your stupid southern colloquialisms do not apply to this situation. There is no smoke!”

Jake stepped forward again and peeled your hand away from your face, sighing as he saw fresh tears lining your lashes. He never wanted to make you cry. Not ever. “There is smoke. And I want to help you. Let me help you.”

You sniffled and looked away from him again but didn’t pull your hands out of his grip. “I don’t fucking understand this metaphor. A-and I don’t want to tell you.”

The words cracked in your throat and Jake only squeezed at your hands. He was here for you. Couldn’t you see that?

“Invisible smoke or not, I’m not going to tell you. I’m not.” You shook your head and finally pulled your hands from his and Jake was prepared for you to step back and tell him to leave, to tell him, again, that you had this handled. Instead, your warm palms pressed against his chest and your tear filled gaze locked on his face. His next breath stalled. God, you were beautiful. “I don’t want to be the one to make you look at me differently. Just…just let me have the rest of this night, okay? I’ll text Bradley and tell him that he can tell you. But just let me have this last night where I’m not some stupid, broken girl in your eyes.”

Jake reached up and settled his hands over yours, noticing how goosebumps raced up your arms when his thumbs brushed against your knuckles. “You could never be. You’ll always be Punch.”

You sighed and almost smiled at him before shaking your head, pulling your hands out from under his. “No, I won’t.”

**

You weren’t entirely sure how you managed to convince Jake to watch a movie with you instead of talking or prying more, but you had a bowl of half eaten microwave popcorn between you on the cushions and The Mummy playing on your television.

This wasn’t how you saw this night playing out. Of course, a person could never really fit a car chase and a quick emotional breakdown into their schedule so, perhaps this was the best possible outcome. As Brendan Fraser’s Rick O’Connell gave Evy a pilfered toolkit in the most adorably awkward manner, your gaze drifted over to Jake.

And he was looking right at you.

Shit. Embarrassed heat washed over you and you quickly looked back at the television.

“C’mere.”

“What?” It was barely more than a squeak and you stubbornly refused to move your gaze away from the television again.

“I know you heard me,” Jake repeated, a bit of a laugh cracking his words. “Come here.”

“I’m not a dog, you know,” you bit back before you could think of being polite. Old habits do die hard.

But it seemed like Jake didn’t particularly care, because he moved the popcorn bowl onto your coffee table and then grabbed at your legs, dragging you over to him with a simple tug. The noise that escaped you was a mortifying mix of a squeak and a yelp and you fell forward with the force of it, hands falling against his arm and shoulder awkwardly. His warm, work-rough hands slid up your thighs, skirting over the scar that still left you grimacing even if the pain had faded years ago, and settled on the curve of your waist. Then, with another simple movement, your thighs were bracketing his and he was looking up at you with the stupid, beautiful sea glass eyes. There was something in his gaze you didn’t recognize.

Or maybe you did and you couldn’t voice it.

“What’re you-”

“You look like you needed a hug.”

You arched a brow and ignored the thundering of your heart. How many times had you thought about something like this only to curse your wandering thoughts? “Oh?”

“Yeah. And I’ve been told I give the best hugs.”

Your mouth twisted to the side—you weren’t sure if you were fighting a smile or a snarl. “Who told you that? Which one of your bed warmers-”

The words stalled behind your teeth when Jake leaned up just enough to wrap his arms around you, warm and solid. And you hated that it immediately brought tears to your eyes. God, how long had it been since someone had hugged you like this? Held you like this? You melted into his grasp like butter on hot toast, going slack against him until your forehead rested on the broad expanse of his shoulder. Jake’s movements halted for a moment. And, if you had been anyone else, you might have said you felt his breath catch. But you knew better.

“This means nothing, you know,” you said, one last ditch effort to not let him know how pathetically easy you were enraptured with his easy touch. “I’m withholding my judgment on if you give good hugs or not.”

You heard him smile before his hands continued their smoothing motions up and down your spine. “Okay, Punch.”

You could have argued a little more. Maybe mentioned how he probably needed a hug more than you or how you wouldn’t feel bad when his legs fell asleep under your weight. But you didn’t. You didn’t because you were so comfortable and your favorite movie was playing in the background and Jake’s cologne smelt so good…who could blame you for falling asleep?

**

You snored. Just a little. It honestly reminded him of like…a baby bear for some reason. But maybe you were just extra tired. Jake wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t been sleeping well. Either way, Jake slowly slid one arm beneath your butt and kept the other a little higher on your back and gently lifted you up from the couch; your head lolled to the side and fell against his chest as you let out a heavy breath. Jake pretended not to feel how you rubbed your cheek against him and let out a soft hum. Or maybe he filed that little sound away to think about later. Either way, Jake made his way down the short hallway and pushed open your door with his foot, wincing as its hinges whined.

Your eyes opened the slightest bit as soon as your head hit the pillow and Jake was sure he would never forget the smile you shot at him.

Then he was thinking about waking up every morning to your sleepy, happy smile. He was thinking about carrying you to bed after a long night at the Hard Deck. He was thinking of you. He had always tried to shove those thoughts down. He had tried to ignore them because he knew—he knew—that nothing could come of it. But now he couldn’t. He knew what it was like to hold you in his arms. He could deal with the paperwork, admirals, and ribbing from the Daggers…if it meant he could…well, he’d finish that thought when he knew you were thinking the same thing.

After shutting your door, and making a mental note to pick up some WD-40 for those squeaky hinges, he made his way back to your living room. He picked up the popcorn bowl and washed it out and then straightened the cushions, just like his mama taught him to do. The movie finished as Jake sat on your couch and dug his phone out of his pocket. It was well past one in the morning but he still pulled up Bradshaw’s contact and typed out a message. We need to talk.

He’d probably hear from him in the mor-

His phone beeped with a new message and he was quick to click on the thread. I’m on my way.

Wasn’t he supposed to be out in the desert with Maverick? What did he mean he was on his way?

Apparently Rooster was also psychic because another message came through. Cut trip short. Will be at her house in an hour.

So, Jake waited. He played a stupid game on his phone to pass the time and made sure it was muted so it wouldn’t wake you up. Every time he heard a car pass by, he checked the window. He needed to make sure it wasn’t the charger again and he wanted to meet Bradley at the door so you wouldn’t wake up when he knocked. Five more rounds of the mindless game on his phone and then he was standing up again, and watching a familiar Bronco pull onto your driveway behind your car. He was surprised to see Maverick exit the passenger side but waved them both in when they approached the door.

“Where is she?” Bradshaw asked instead of a greeting.

“She’s asleep,” Jake hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

“Have you checked all the windows?” Maverick asked, voice thankfully at the correct decibel.

“A couple times,” Jake said. Maverick knew too? Was he the only one that didn’t know what you were hiding? “Are either of you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Maverick looked at Rooster but Rooster was looking right at Jake, mouth set in a firm line beneath his ridiculous mustache. “I gotta see her first. All right? We’ll stay with her for the rest of the night.”

That just about crawled all over Jake. He was just going to shove him out? After everything that’s happened tonight? “No. No, this is fucking ridiculous. Tell me-”

“Seresin,” Maverick cut in. “You’ve had a long night. Why don’t you head back to base and get some sleep?”

“I-”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant Commander.”

That simple phrase repeated in his head as he sat in the back of the Uber headed toward the Hard Deck, and when he drove himself home, and as he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. That’s an order, Lieutenant Commander. What it actually was, was insulting. But he did as he was ordered, knowing that Mav and Rooster were trying to take care of you (and Maverick did have the authority to have him brought up in front of the brass)…but why didn’t they see that Jake was trying to help, too? As he stewed, his phone chirped with a notification from his sister, Mia. It was a picture of her sitting out on a familiar porch swing, the Texas night sky on display over her head as she smiled at the camera. She was holding up a cup—Jake knew it was probably filled with her favorite chamomile blend from a shop a few towns over from the family ranch. Hope you’re getting more sleep than me!

Jake sighed for the umpteenth time. Mia’s ex-husband, a man named Ryan who Jake had never liked, had up and left her for a coworker. She was understandably heartbroken and then when she discovered that Ryan had a child on the way with his mistress while Mia had been struggling to have a baby, she had been near inconsolable. It had taken her nearly a week for Jake and his sisters and mom to get Mia out of bed. It had been slow going to help her get back on her feet, even after the lawyer his mom hired managed to get Mia all of the marital assets and half of Ryan’s monetary savings alongside a hefty alimony. Mia had always been the strongest of his sisters, an older sister to the core, who had truly stepped up when their father had stepped out on their mother. It had been a cruel twist of fate that Mia’s marriage had turned out to mirror their mother’s so closely. Jake spoke with each of his sisters at least once a week, mostly just making sure they were doing okay and to lessen the bit of guilt he had for leaving Texas and them in the rear view when he joined the Navy. After tonight, he could use a little talk with his sister.

Jake hit the small phone icon beneath her name and it rang twice before she picked up. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up with my text.”

“I was awake.”

“What’re you doing up right now?” She grumbled.

“Had a long night.” That was putting it lightly.

“I thought you were going out with that girl, Punch? Not the girl of your dreams anymore?”

Jake bit back the groan he felt rising in his throat. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to. You’re my baby brother and I know you. She a bad kisser or something?”

“We are not in high school and I’m not having this conversation with you,” he grumbled, feeling heat start to flood his face.

Thankfully or not, there was a strange fluttering sound on the other end of the line, followed by a muttered, “shit!”

“Everything okay?” Ryan had shown up at the ranch Mia and their mother now shared more than once, raging about the divorce decree and/or asking for a second chance in the next breath.

“Yeah, just dropped my book.” There was a long sigh and Jake imagined her settling back down onto the well worn cushion in the swing.

“What’re you reading?”

“A book.”

He rolled his eyes but felt a smile pushing at his mouth. She could always make him laugh. “Mia.”

“Jacob.” She snickered before continuing. “The author’s name is Georgia Torrance. She writes romances and if you judge me I’ll figure out a way to get your superiors to ground you from flying for, like, three days at least.”

Jake’s smile widened the slightest bit before something clicked. Georgia Torrance. That was the name on the strange books in your home. Can’t wait to see what you come up with next! You had written them, hadn’t you? Under a fake name, sure, but that was you.

If this were any other situation, Jake would drive back to you and simply ask if had a second job as a writer but he’d been banished from your house by his superior officer. So, he’d just bide his time with that, too, he guessed.

“I think I’ve heard of her. She has a few books, right?”

His sister giggled down the line. “Oh, they’re some of my favorites. Me and a few of the other girls have been getting together, like a book club, to read them. It’s fun.”

Jake smiled. She was doing okay, leaning on her friends. “You like those scandalous books, Mia? Gram would be mortified.”

Mia hushed him, but another giggle softened the blow. “They’re a great escape from the shitstorm of my life right now. Don’t judge me. They really are well written! And they’re so soft, Jake! Like, you can tell the characters actually care about each other.” There was a wistful sigh on the other end. “And she does this thing in all of her books.”

“Thing?”

“Yeah, the hero in some fashion or way, always ends up carrying the heroine to bed. Just to sleep. It is in all of her books. It’s her thing. Her trope, or whatever. It is so romantic.”

The sleepy, happy smile you’d given him flashed in his mind and the smallest bit of tension released in his chest. He had made you smile while doing something you, apparently, thought was romantic.

“Are you okay?” Mia asked, pulling Jake from his reverie.

His answering sigh crackled over the phone and he thought of your smile again. “Don’t worry about me.”

**

Someone was sitting on your bed. You had the vague realization of the weight as you teetered between sleep and wakefulness. “Jake?”

“‘s me, Punch.”

You smacked yourself in the face while attempting to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Bradley? Aren’t you still supposed to be out in the desert with Captain Mitchell?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “But my favorite mechanic was apparently auditioning for the Fast and the Furious and we cut the trip short.”

Even in the dark of your room, you could see Bradley smile. “You hate those movies,” you said, hating how your voice started to quake. Hadn’t you cried enough?

“I do. Now, are you gonna tell me what happened? And why fucking Hangman was acting like your guard dog?”

Heat dragged up your neck and you were thankful for the dark of your room so Bradley wouldn’t see you almost smile into your pillow. “Is he still out in the living room?” He’d stayed for you.

“Mav sent him home. Wanted me to tell him everything the second we got in.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Bradley sighed again and his warm hand landed softly on your arm. He squeezed it gently. “Had to make sure you were okay first. You will always be the priority.”

“I shouldn’t be,” you muttered. “God, I’m not worth any of this. You should have seen him tonight, Bradley. He just wouldn’t stop. It was a goddamn miracle I was able to get us out of that without totaling my car. And Jake was just…” Traitorous tears stung at your eyes but you let them fall because Bradley had seen you battered and bloody; he could withstand your tears. “Jake was so nice to me. Patient. He doesn’t deserve to be wrapped up in this. None of you do.”

“Hey,” Bradley started, whispered tone bordering on disappointed. “Stop saying shit like that. I’ve told you this a thousand times: you are worth everything. You deserve better than the shitty hand you were dealt. And remember whose dumbass started all this? Me. It was me.”

“It wasn’t you though,” you said, trying to breathe through the tears still trying to choke you.

But Bradley said nothing else but moved a little closer to you on the bed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You weren’t entirely sure when you fell back asleep but you woke a few hours later with the first rays of daylight peeking through your curtains. It felt like you’d inhaled brick dust after being battered with said brick. Embarrassment was gnawing on your ribs as you rolled out from under your tangled blankets and set your feet on the floor. Everything had gone off the metaphorical rails last night. And a part of you ached at the thought of not having Jake around, even on the periphery, because you knew he would want nothing to do with you after he knew.

You stretched, hearing your back crack, and padded out toward the kitchen where you’d bet Bradley was waiting. And, yep, he was leaning against your counter, sipping on coffee you only kept in the house for him. His hazel eyes looked you over before he set down the mug, porcelain clacking against the linoleum. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit. Where’s Captain Mitchell?” You asked as you stepped into the kitchen, too, intent on getting to the lemon poppy seed muffins you saw sitting on the counter. Bradley’s hand slowly raising to block your path had you whining. “Why are you being me to me? I am in need of food.”

“You’re a brat,” he said with absolutely no heat. “And how many times has Mav said you could call him Pete when we aren’t on base?” He grabbed one of the muffins and shoved it at you. A few crumbs fell to your kitchen floor and you knew you���d have to sweep later. But not now. You took a large bite and almost moaned at the taste of it and continued to ignore Bradley’s question. Maverick was your superior. That was it. Keeping people at arm’s length kept them safe—well, you knew that he knew about your predicament but that didn’t mean he needed to be tangled up in it, too. “He picked those up for you this morning before he went to Penny’s for breakfast. Said Ice mentioned they were your favorite?”

You nodded and felt your lips curling up in a smile between bites. “He and Sarah took me to the bakery about a week after I got stationed here.” Tom had insisted that the poppy seed muffins were the best he’d ever tasted and after one bite, you agreed.

Bradley reached for one and hummed after he took a bite, nodding before taking another.

You two ate in silence for a little longer before Bradley, with his stupid baby cow hazel eyes, looked at you again. “What?”

“I checked the house over. It looks like nothing’s been messed with. But why don’t you come stay with me-”

“No.”

Bradley looked like he was trying not to sigh. “Punch, c’mon. It’ll just be until-”

“Until what, Bradley? I can handle this. He…he’ll probably disappear again and we can just forget this ever happened.”

“He tried to run you and Seresin off the road, Punch. Let me help.”

“You already did! You brought me muffins and checked out my house after staying the night when you should’ve been out in the desert and working on Mav’s plane. And that’s just today. You have done enough.”

Bradley’s eyes narrowed as he shoved the rest of the muffin into his mouth—which was ridiculous! He wasn’t even savoring it!—before sighing. “Fine. But you call me if you need anything, okay? Or Bob.” He then paused and you hated how his brow arched. That always meant he was going to say something he thought was clever but was actually stupid. “Or you could call Hangman.”

Embarrassed heat started to claw at your neck and you tried to ignore it and the knowing look in Bradley’s eyes. “You’re being mean.”

“You are asking me to tell him what the hell you have lurking in the shadows-”

“Don’t say lurking in the shadows. We aren’t in a horror movie.”

“-and you still refuse to see how much that guy is in love with you?”

The heat was now scalding and you were sure that your internal temperature had risen a few degrees, too. “Ken isn’t in love with me.”

“And you’re in love with him.”

Were you in love with Jake? No. That couldn’t be possible because, after everything, you knew that being in love and being loved just wasn’t in the cards for you. And the Navy would never allow it. And Jake was…Jake was your friend. And so far out of your league it was ridiculous. You weren’t his type anyway. And you didn’t have a type but if you did it would probably be…Jake. But you didn’t have time to think about that now because there was a tight feeling in your chest and your eyes were watering again and you knew that you were actually…probably…definitely…pathetically in love with Jake Seresin. Shit.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter if I am or not. None of that matters,” you bit out as you blinked back the tears. “Also, when are you going to tell Natasha how you feel?”

Just as you anticipated, Bradley’s cheeks filled with pink and it was his turn to look away. “I’ve got a plan,” he muttered.

The smallest bit of tension slipped from your spine as you realized your diversion had worked, at least marginally. Bradley did have a bad habit of jumping back to conversations you had thought you had moved on from. Oh well. “So you’re not denying it anymore? No more ‘we’re just friends’ or ‘you’re reading into it,’ now?”

The pink in his cheeks grew darker as he reached out to lightly flick at your arm. “I guess.”

Well, at least you had this small victory. And god knows he had been ignoring his feelings for Natasha for years. You surely hadn’t been the only one to notice; Natasha was just as far gone for Bradley but she at least hid it better. You were sure only you and Bob knew about her feelings. “If I were mean, I’d make you tell me your plan. But I am feeling charitable today and will just wish you the best.”

“You’re such a brat.” He pulled you into a hug and sponged a loud kiss onto your forehead before stepping back. After you told him to go home and actually rest, that you’d be fine for the rest of the weekend, and Bradley once again telling you to call him if you needed anything, he left with a final, “lock your door!” thrown over his shoulder.

And then you were alone again. Your heart gave a startled leap when you heard a car door slam a few moments later but you heard your neighbor’s squeaky front door open and close and pushed out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Great. You eventually swept the kitchen floors and double checked the windows before making the short trek out to your mailbox to check the mail. You stepped back inside and engaged all the locks before sorting through the small stack of envelopes and advertisements. Most were junk and quickly shredded and then put in the recycling bin. You smiled as you recognized your sister’s handwriting across one of the envelopes. Georgie still maintained that you should FaceTime every other week but her letters were a more frequent occurrence. This one was filled with details about her pregnancy and how her husband is being adorable about setting up everything in the nursery. She asked about your job and if you had any suggestions about what to get for your brother, Danny, for his upcoming birthday. You set the letter aside to flip through the rest of the stack but your heart fell to your feet when you saw the last thing in your hand.

It was another goddamn Polaroid. And part of you wished that it had just been you. Just you trapped in that white box. But no. It was Jake. Just Jake. It was him walking out to your car while you’d still been parked at the Hard Deck last night. Poorly drawn blood was bisecting his neck—it was supposed to look like his throat had been slashed, you assumed. It was a shitty drawing but it got the point across.

He could hurt Jake. He could hurt Jake simply because he was near you.

And you wouldn’t ever let that happen. There’d never been a threat like this before—Bradley and Bob never received one and you had been given no threats for them, either. So, it was just Jake. Just your Ken. You needed to keep him safe. Even if it cracked at something behind your ribs.

With all the subtlety of a freight train, you started avoiding him at work. If he walked in a room, you’d walk out. You bribed other ADs to be the ones to handle Jake’s jet. You didn’t go to the Hard Deck if you knew he was going to be there—which was more often than not. You ignored him whenever he called your name. It created a strange waiting game—you wouldn’t have been surprised if you had been called into Admiral Simpson’s office and reprimanded for disrespecting a superior officer. But weeks trickled by and nothing happened except Captain Mitchell giving you a disappointed look and Natasha asking if you and Jake hooked up and if it was bad enough for you to avoid him. After explaining that there was definitely not a hookup (true) and you definitely weren’t avoiding him (lie), you let yourself believe that you had managed to ghost him enough to keep him safe. When you received another Polaroid of you and Jake from the night of Junior’s party with Jake’s face scratched out and the words “I knew he couldn’t handle you” scrawled across the bottom, you knew you’d made the right choice. Then the next note, a singular scrap of paper tucked into the crease between your front door and its frame, read “all alone again? you never know how to treat them!,” your resolve only strengthened.

He could think you hated him forever as long as he was safe.

You could watch him flirt with every beautiful woman who looked in his direction and ignore how your entire body flinched at the sight as long as he was safe.

He just needed to be safe.

**

It had been three weeks since you had fallen asleep in Jake’s arms. And three weeks since you’d spared him more than a side-eyed glance. Rooster had been acting strange, too. While the other pilot hadn’t been avoiding him exactly, Rooster had volunteered to help Mav with the current Top Gun class and had been squirreled away in his office or in the classroom when not in the air. And while Jake could have metaphorically cornered Rooster by asking him over the comms, he wouldn’t ever bring up your name like that when other people were listening. So, when Maverick decided that the newest class needed to be introduced to Dog Fight Football after three pilots got into a screaming match and nearly collided with Phoenix and Bob during a dogfight simulation, he knew this was an opening he needed to take.

In passing, Jake also took the opportunity to ask if the support crew would be invited and earned an unimpressed look coupled with a, “they have been told that they are encouraged and welcome to come, Seresin.” Jake didn’t even care that Mav probably (definitely) knew what he was really asking because he overheard you telling Fanboy that you’d be there because Penny wanted someone to sit with. Perfect.

And you looked perfect when he saw you the next morning. Sitting on a low rise sun chair with Penny at your side and your toes buried in the sand, you had on that pair of shorts Jake dreamed about and a loose fitting shirt with the Dagger Squadron emblem over your heart. You were beautiful. He wasn’t going to shy away from it any more. No more using ‘special’ to hide everything else he wanted to feel. You were beautiful.

Now, Jake knew he was good looking. There was no arguing that. So, why not use it to his advantage? He strode up to you and watched as you looked at him over the edge of your sunglasses. And your face revealed nothing. You were a stone wall when you craned your neck to look up at him but he was undeterred.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Punch.” He then grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off, dropping it onto your lap as he subtly flexed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you hold that for me?”

You seemed to freeze for a moment before grabbing the shirt and neatly folding it. “Sure.” Then you leaned to the side, completely ignoring him, and shouted, “Bradley! Give me your shirt before it gets wet!” Rooster’s shirt eventually turned into Javy’s shirt, Phoenix’s shirt, and Payback’s shirt, and then you made sure that Bob had enough sunscreen on. And Jake watched all of it happen, little more than another bit of sand on your periphery. Just as he was about to call it quits on this attempt, you called out to him. He turned to you to see you looking at him over the edge of your sunglasses again. “Pull up your shorts. You’re about to give everyone a show.”

Penny let out a choked laugh that she tried to hide behind her hand before Jake tugged at the waistband of his shorts, moving them up marginally.

“There you go, Ken. Now you’re almost suitable for public consumption.”

“I prefer private consumption, Punch.” Jake winked at Penny when she laughed again before turning his attention back to you. “I could give you a free preview after we show these kids how to play nicely with each other.”

Jake watched you roll your lips into your mouth before you turned your head away as you pretended (he was sure!) to straighten the small stack of shirts you had collected. “That’s inappropriate. And you of all people don’t know how to play nicely.”

“Oh, Punch,” Jake said, letting as much of his Texan twang seep into his tone as possible when he leaned down to make sure you could look him in the eye (or ogle him correctly). “I play very nicely.”

You licked your lips and looked away but Jake saw your throat bob. “Make sure to tackle Royal into the sand,” you said, mentioning one of the Top Gun pilots who had been involved in the screaming match. “He’s been acting up with the other ADs.”

Well, that was a start. Maybe. “You got it, Punch.”

Then, forty-two seconds into the game, Jake did just that. He looked back at you to see you hiding a laugh behind your hands while Penny roared beside you as Royal yelled about getting sand in his mouth.

The game continued and the grumpy group of pilots eventually started to get along–not as well as the Dagger Squad, but they were something special. Maverick seemed to agree with the exasperated look he shared with Jake and Rooster when they finally called it a day. Penny invited them all up to the Hard Deck for a drink and that seemed to smooth the rest of the rough edges this group came in with, or at least most of them. Maverick bought the first round but Jake was quick to buy another for the Dagger Squadron when that was quickly drained. And, because he was definitely trying to track you through the steadily growing crowd (covertly), Jake spotted you at one of the hightops outside on the deck. Bob and Phoenix were with you, laughing at something you said.

That was the happiest he’d seen you in weeks. Your smile was actually reaching your eyes—your eyes that finally had that light in them that had been missing.

A hand fell onto his shoulder and Jake swung around to see Bradshaw handing him another beer. Even though Jake was less than halfway into the one he already had. “Thanks, man.”

Rooster nodded and took a long pull from his beer before glancing at you, too. He rolled his shoulders before waving his bottle toward the door that led out to the beach. “Let’s talk.” He led Jake onto the sand with quick steps and then stopped just short of the water’s edge.

The other man was quiet for a stretched moment, quiet long enough for Jake to think he wasn’t actually going to say anything but-

“She saved my life.”

Jake tried to process the words before a scratchy “what?” was pulled out of his throat.

Bradshaw took another pull from his beer and then set the empty bottle into the sand by his feet. “The mechanic assigned to me when we were overseas talked a big game—his dad was some big shot who was buddies with the brass at the Pentagon. Name was Luke. He was a shit mechanic, to tell you the truth. Punch would sometimes come in behind him, usually after hours, and double check everything he did. I would talk to her whenever I caught her doing it. She was embarrassed and asked me not to tell anyone and for a few weeks I just didn’t see her, didn’t think anything of it, really. Maybe because I thought she was finally doing something about all the bruising I kept seeing crop on her face. She changed the subject when I asked her once if she was okay.” Jake knew what self-loathing sounded like and right now it was bleeding out of Bradshaw’s every word.

“Then, one day, we get sent out. I run in and half-ass my preflight checks because I was a stupid kid who wanted to make a name for himself. I wasn’t always so careful.” He bared his teeth for a moment. “Stupid. I was so stupid. I’m about to get into the slingshot and she just darts out in front of me, waving her arms and screaming something I can’t hear. She nearly gets taken down by MPs and other officers and I’m fuming, I’m so mad that the rest of my squadron get to go out and I’m grounded by some crazy mechanic.” He shook his head before his hands curled to fists at his sides. “But I’ll never forget how desperate she sounded, screaming that the routine maintenance I would have been needing for the past three weeks hadn’t been done properly. He had been drunk in the hangar. For weeks. When my commander looked my plane over, he said I was lucky I wasn’t sitting in a goddamn body bag. It was a ticking time bomb.”

Jake’s heartbeat was echoing in his ears as he looked at Bradshaw. But more was yet to come.

“I found her trying to hold her leg together just outside the hangar. That asshole took a pair of pliers and…” Rooster’s hand twisted and jerked and Jake could imagine the sharp tool moving like that, moving against you. “He did it just to…just to make her bleed and try to make her apologize for saving my life. One of her eyes was swollen shut and she…” His mouth twisted to the side as if he needed to compose himself before continuing. “She could barely tell me who did it to her before she passed out. Punch was in medical for a week. They wouldn’t let me see her; the only visit I got was from two star who asked what I knew. The next thing I know, she’s been sent back to her shore station and Luke’s disappeared, too. It took me months to learn that all that guy got was a damn Letter of Admonishment and a commercial flight back home.”

“That’s it? That’s all he got?” Rage punctuated each syllable, an unmistakable and inescapable heat starting to burn in his chest.

Rooster scrubbed a hand down his face before continuing. “And what makes it fucking worse is that she was dating him. Dating himand coming to the hangar looking like she’d just gone three rounds with a heavyweight and I didn’t connect the dots until that two star let it slip.”

The rageful heat in Jake’s chest splintered as he thought of you being hurt like that by someone you trusted. How could someone do that to you while claiming to love you? How could anyone do that?

“This was my fault. Mine. She may think it is all hers but if I had asked her just one more time if she needed help, I could have had Luke dishonorably discharged and Punch would be…”

Safe.

Healthy.

Unafraid.

“She was so in love with him and he made her believe he would be the only one who could ever love her. Got it in her mind that no one else would ever lower themselves to love her.”

There was a pointed look shot in his direction that Jake tried to not read too much into (right now).

But Rooster pressed on. “I took a gamble and called Tom…Admiral Kazansky,” he quickly reiterated. “He’d been just about as constant in my life as he could be, you know. Always said I could call if I needed anything. And I just needed her safe.”

The strange look in Rooster’s gaze kept Jake quiet despite the dozens of questions running through his mind.

“He learned what happened and what she did and the next day she gets orders to Hawaii. Then to Kitsap in Washington. The furthest east she got was Fallon in Nevada. She was firmly planted under Kazansky’s oversight. I thought it would keep her safe.”

“But she kept volunteering for deployments,” Jake said after Bradshaw fell into an agitated quiet, like he was searching for words. He didn’t think that your throwaway anecdote from the engagement party would mean this.

“That piece of shit somehow found out where she was going to be at a port call and arrived the day before she was supposed to get back on the carrier. He nearly strangled her to death.”

The murmured stories you had half heartedly given were starting to create a through line. “That was when Bob stepped in. He said they met on deployment.”

Rooster nodded. “Apparently that LoA was to blame for Luke not getting promoted. He blamed her. It didn’t matter that she could have gone in front of the brass and had him court martialed. It didn’t matter that she took money from his just-as-shitty father to keep her quiet. He still saw her as the reason he was given a goddamn slap on the wrist for nearly killing us both. She was still the one that managed to get away. He should be in prison and he was mad about not making rank. Bob was the one who dragged him in front of the brass but that basically amounted to nothing. Again. She refuses to go to the cops because she thinks they’ll just brush it off or cover it up like everyone else does.” He knocked his foot against the empty bottle for a moment before turning to look at you back on the deck. Jake looked, too, seeing you let Phoenix drag you around in a dance. You threw your head back with a laugh as you nearly fell. Bob was cheering you both on. “Kazansky then had her stationed here,” Bradshaw said as they both turned back to look at the ocean. “It was a smart move. Kept her safe. The pilots never stayed but the ADs rarely rotated out. She saw it as a glass half full type of situation—she was trusted with the planes of the best pilots in the Navy but she wouldn’t have the opportunity to deploy as often, if at all. I’m pretty sure Kazansky had Luke shadowbanned from any of the stations he oversaw.”

But now Admiral Kazansky was dead, that was unspoken.

“And now Luke’s back.” The words sounded muffled to Jake’s ears as he said them. His heart thudded against his ribs as his stomach twisted. Luke was back. You were in danger. There was no denying it now.

“He is. And she seems to think that you’ve gained that douchebag’s attention and she just wants to keep you safe,” Bradshaw continued, an edge of exasperation starting to soak each syllable. “You are both so fucking stupid-”

“Hey.”

“-but I need you to help keep her safe, yeah? She’s going to fight you on it. Even more than she has already. But-”

“I’ll do it.” The words punched out of Jake with his next breath. And he meant it. “Whatever you think I need to do, I’ll do it.”

His wingman almost smiled at that. Almost. But he shook his head instead. “Seresin-”

“Punch?”

Both Jake and Bradshaw whipped their heads around back to look at the deck.

“Punch?!” Phoenix was leaning over the railing to crane her neck to the side in search of you, presumably. Bob was doing the same in the opposite direction but his face was scrunched in something almost like fear. “Punch?”

You appeared around the corner, balancing a tray of new drinks for your little group. Both Phoenix and Bob’s faces relaxed as they took the offered drinks, each kissing your cheek in thanks. As you set the tray down and said something to them Jake couldn’t hear before you turned just enough to see Jake looking at you. The carefree smile on your face faded as you glanced at Rooster at his side. You knew he had been told. Your chin tucked to your chest before you abruptly turned back to your other friends.

You truly thought he wouldn’t still want you?

That rage returned, burning behind Jake’s ribs. Not at you. Never at you. At Luke who had beaten you down physically and emotionally hard enough for you to believe that no one would love you.

But Jake was here. He would always be here. Waiting for you.

A/N: thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

[sunofpandora]

 V I R A G O                   

Chapter 5

Honey, you’re familiar.

Neteyam x fem!omaticaya!reader

𝓭𝓮𝓽��𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹i𝓼

»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———WARNINGS:

Mentions of dick sucking and eating pussy???? IT'S A JOKE GUYS I SWEAR JUST READ AND YOU'LL UNDERSTAND GIVE ME A CHANCE!! 

Anxiety/mentions of hunger/mentions of not eating/ heights/ sex jokes/murder jokes?? Neteyam has like, one dirty thought?

Synopsis:  Y/n and Lo’ak spend some time together at the lake, and return to the omatikaya to join the sullys for the communal clan meal. Jake and y/n have a heart to heart.

Extra characters:

Kyuna: Omaticaya clan member

Popiti: Omaticaya child, Tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary.

Authors note:

HI GUYS! Did you miss me?? It’s okay to say no 😭. I’m in such a good mood guys and you won’t believe why 😏 and because I am in such a good mood, I have decided to give you guys some fluffy  sully family feels before the next chapter, where neteyam and Y/n will start their training! As just a reminder, please remember to go back and read chapter 3 (all 3 parts if you can) bc I have a feeling that not a ton of people have.

VERY IMPORTANT!!

This chapter is what I call a direct chapter. This means that the events in this chapter are happening on the same day as the ones in chapter 4 (found on my masterlist.). Ik it’s been awhile so pls feel free to refresh your memory

»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———»»———–➤»

 “Damn that thing is huge.”

“…”

“So big and juicy looking…”

“……”

“I can’t wait to have that thing inside of me…mmm….my mouth is just watering thinking about it.”

“Lo’ak. Shut the fuck up.”

Lo’ak cackled, shoving you playfully.

“C’mon sis you know I play around.”

You huffed, trying to keep up being unamused with his sexual innuendos. 

“Lo’ak it’s not funny.”

“Yes it is.”

You thwacked him with your tail, hissing at him lowly, making him shut up immediately.

“You know for someone who complained about neteyam moaning into a fruit, you talk a lot of shit.”

Lo’ak shrugged.

“Is it so wrong to admire a fruit for its nice curves??”

It was inevitable that Lo’ak would bother you like this while you tried to focus. It wasn’t anything new. And while you were practicing the art of perpetual kindness, the occasional sex joke from Lo’ak deserved a whack of your tail, did it not?

You huffed, dropping your shoulders and letting your stance slip. You had been out in the woods with Lo’ak for the last 2 hours. Just exploring and enjoying conversation and gossip as usual, your bow slung around your torso and a few arrows, sharpened and freshly fletched at the ready in case of trouble.

It wasn’t trouble you were trying to shoot right now, luckily. Your current target was the fresh bunch of fruits that glistened under the canopy’s kisses of sunlight leaking through the foliage.

Lo’ak shifted on his feet.

“I could just shimmy up there and cut them down at the stem.”

You rolled your eyes, fondly recalling how about 5 minutes ago he tried that and fell on his ass…7 times.

“No, Lo’ak. I don’t want you injured. We’re doing it my way now.”

You raised your arm again, placing your arrow against the string of your bow, carefully constructing your once slipping stance to its previous position.

You took a breath, widening yourself at the proper angle, the sweet sound of the stretch your bowstring was a gentle satisfaction. You felt your nose twitch as the fletching of the arrows brush your nostrils.

You can feel Lo’ak’s eyes on you. Tracing the way your muscles tensed and stretched, enamored by your skill. It seemed as if everyone was. 

To be honest, it would have felt weird if it was anyone else other than Lo’ak.

You finally released, watching the arrow fly up and into the tree, the sound of the vine snapping as the arrow pierced straight through the stem that hung the fruits by the bunch to the branch resonated through the moistened air.

The fruits fell with a thud, you let out a satisfied sigh.

“There we go.”

You hummed, handing Lo’ak your bow as you squatted to swing the fruits over your shoulder.

Lo’ak was quiet for a moment. Just staring at your weapon as you stood to your feet.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You queried, stepping over the few stones to stand with him.

He shrugged, a smile allowing itself to sink upon his features.

“Nothing. I just feel like I should be more formal. I’m in the presence of our clan’s mighty archer.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing him as you started to walk down the path you came.

“Shut up.”

“No im serious. I should’ve done my hair or fixed up my outfit-“

“You’re not funny.”

“My mom says I’m funny.”

He puts his hands on his hips, chin high as if his existence was the height of humanity’s greatest accomplishments.

“Yourn mom also tells Tuk that babies come from flowers. So she’s extremely reliable, it seems.”

Lo’ak gasped frantically, dramatically tumbling over his steps and clutching his chest as if he’s entering cardiac arrest.

“You fiend of a woman! How dare you speak to me with such a tounge!?”

“Oh suck my dick Lo’ak.”

“Eat me out y/n!”

Lo’ak leaned against a tree, posing seductively. Spreading his legs and falling his hands around to gesture to his loins.

You covered your mouth and nose, gagging for effect. 

“Put it away Lo’ak, phew, I KNOW it stinks up in there.”

“It smells delectable.”

“Mo’at had a heart attack scare last time she washed your loincloth. I wouldn’t count on it.”

Lo’ak flipped you off.

You both couldn’t restrain yourselves from the ugly cackles that erupt from your throat.

Your laughter weaving floridly around the forest before soaking into the late afternoons sunrays. The sky blushed it’s shadowed hues into breathtaking. It was at this time when the sun settled its intensity and ceased staining the world with its harsh tones, when the night crept behind a curtain of clouds.

Lo’ak and you continued to wonder around, Lo’ak carrying the fruit in the woven satchel bag that hung by it’s strap over his shoulder, your hands remained free, feeling the diminutive weight of the bow on your back, reaching out every now and then to swing on a branch or hurl yourself over a log.

“So, question for you.”

Lo’ak started, throwing himself over a rock to land on the patch of moss.

“Uh huh.”

“If we were to go swimming right now, would we be late going back to high camp?”

You think for a moment.

“Not if we make it quick. Try not to lose your loincloth in the rapids again.”

You snickered, recalling the incident during a fishing trip that your fathers took you on when you were both 12,

Jogging off before he could pull your tail or pinch your ankle or grab your leg or something obnoxious

“For fucks sake, will you ever let that go!?”

A boisterous laugh leaves you as you doubled over against a tree.

“No. It’s so funny.”

“Shut the fuck up. Listen-“

“I’m listening!”

“No you’re not, you're laughing!”

Another cackle leaves you. You wave a hand around, as if to rid the air of your own facetiousness.

“Okay— okay. I’m done. I’m done laughing. I promise.”

The wheezing endnotes of your breathless words betray you, and another fit of laughter leaves you. Lo’ak joins, and your chest starts to ache with the amount of breath that presses through your fits of giggles.

Lo’ak swings an arm around your shoulder throwing you both of balance, as if your steps weren’t already unparalleled and uncoordinated.

“No because- how did you lose your fucking loincloth—“

You rasped, your eyes squeezing shut.

Sounds that you’re almost 89% sure resemble some animal dying leave you and Lo’ak in sync.

And all the shit you’ve been through the last few days seem to just melt away when you’re laughing with your best friend so hard you can’t breathe.

After a few minutes, the chorus of chortles and raspy sentences cease. 

“Oh eywa. You’re a fucking idiot.”

You sigh, shoving him lightly.

“So are you. We’re a package deal.”

He pushes you before sprinting towards the river.

“Lo’ak! Fuck— wait up.”

Lo’ak’s smile was different from Neteyam’s. Neteyam’s was full of warmth and sunlight. Saturn’s rings sulking in a lightning storm of gold gilded gardens. 

Lo’ak’s smile was made of healing boyish hearts and oddly shaped persuasion. Flames and rings of smoke that radiated its warmth beneath incandescent skin. Rattling notes of wooden beads clinking together and a fragile temperament.

He throws himself in the water with a running start, an accented yelp echoed like a final chord striking before a late curtain call of a sunset evening’s songs.

Your laugh is loud, it shakes your body as his head emerges from the water.

“Come on. Don’t be a wuss.”

You took a breath, diving in the water.

You felt your body slicing through the surface, the air around you revisions itself into a 

You enjoyed swimming. And you were actually really good at it. There was something about being in the water that was so soothing, sirenic sensations that seemed to lift the world into light.

Your vision consolidated, surrendering to the soft undercurrents that brushed along your skin.

You motioned your arms and legs forward, propelling yourself through the water. You swiftly raised your head above the water, feeling the surface break as you retreated for air.

As the film of aqua haze vanishes back to the thickened victorious viridescent shades  painted the jungle. The light leaked through the canopy, reigning a rutilant warm glow, burned by the late afternoon sun.

Lo’ak’s silhouette blackens, shadowed by the thick line of fire that forms itself into the shape of sunlight.

“You’re crazy good at that.”

“At what?”

“Swimming.”

 Your mother and father were traders.  

Well, really, your father was.

Your father’s family were the representatives for your clan while traveling and trading for years. 

His family had an almost nomadic lifestyle and spent much of their time away from hometree and the clan. The olo’eyktan of the clan at the time, Lo’ak’s grandfather, followed the tradition of leaders many years before him of entrusting your father’s family to be the ones to travel by ikran away from home in seasonal patterns to trade resources and gather new information to report and bring back to the clan. Its a system that has been in place for many years.

As a child, you occasionally traveled with your parents. Visiting the planes where the tipani resided, and even the beaches under the cliffs where the tayrangi dwelled. When you were little, you loved to swim in the oceans with the other tayrangi children. 

You shrugged. Rubbing the back of your neck, your braids strung loosely about behind you, some  some swaying across the surface of the water and other sinking against your back. 

“My parents took me when they traveled east a lot. Remember? I guess I’ve built up some swimming skills.”

Lo’ak nodded, glancing down at the water before flicking his gaze back towards you.

“Do you think you’ll do it?”

“Do what?”

“Travel. Like your parents did.”

You think for a moment. Letting the silence settle. There was a time, where you and Lo’ak were dumb and 12 years old would stay up past dark quietly sneaking around the clan to steal some snacks and climb the yovo fruit trees that surrounded your village, the one you lived in before high camp. You would whisper about your plans for the future. How one day, you both would pack up your ikran saddles and fly off to a far away land, explore and travel the uncharted territories of Pandora together, and return when the journey ended on your own terms.

“Maybe.”

You hummed, thinking of how possibilities place themselves into puzzle pieces so quickly with time.

He nods, paddling around.

“Remember when we were kids? And we always talked about running away? Convincing my dad to bring back our old trading systems? Just going wherever we wanted? No nagging, no worries, just a bullshit-free life.”

You splashed your face with some water, the refreshing coolness washes down your neck.

“Should we really leave the clan like that?”

Lo’ak snorted.

“Please. I think they’ll be fine. The trade needed to be brought back anyways. There are resources we could use and it’s good to strengthen our connections with the other clans and blah blah blah.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

He swam to you, his expression statued a seriousness that was almost unfamiliar to his usual demeanor. 

“But I want to be real for a moment. I don’t want to be stuck here forever. You hear what Norm and max say. Pandora is huge. It’s too big for us to just stay in the forest for the rest of our lives.”

You frowned, a heaviness blanketed your heart that you couldn't quite name.

“Your family will miss you.”

Lo’ak laughed, but it was thin and forced, almost bitter.

“No. I don’t think they would.”

You shook your head, knowing that wasn’t true.

“Lo’ak. They love you.”

“My siblings and you may love me. But I don’t think the great Toruk Makto always likes me.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe he does like you, and that hes just afraid of loosing you?? Because you are so much like him, so much of a mirror into his own youth, he knows the mistakes he made.”

Lo’ak was quiet for a moment. His voice was softer this time, this tell-tale of a familial tragedy that unconditionally refused to acknowledge one’s individuality. Where Jake and Lo’ak walked the thin line of being a mirror that refused reflection, a window that showed you what you prayed you would never see. History’s cruel rhyme schemes never surprised you. Not anymore. 

The hoarseness in his voice edged his tone, you could tell he was disassociating from the conversation.  

“That has nothing to do with me.”

“I think he’s still learning to make peace with that. You never really grow out of growing.”

Silence settled between you before it was shattered by the heavy sweep of water that crashes onto your face.

You cough up some of the water, slapping Lo’ak’s shoulder.

“What the fuck was that for?!”

“Stop being so fucking smart.”

He whined, dunking his head under water.

You rolled your eyes. Yanking him up by his forearm. 

“Lo’ak, I’m serious.”

He glared.

“And I’m not in the mood.”

“Your dad doesn’t hate you. He just-“

“I never said he hates me. I said he doesn’t like me. You don’t have to like someone in order to love them.”

“That’s not— Lo’ak I’m sure-“

“Y/n.”

That was your cue to close the curtain on that conversation. It pained you to know that Lo’ak thought like that. But you knew he would open up. Eventually.

Your mouth tapped shut. Your lips pressing into a thin line. 

He sighed, running his hands down his face roughly.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to snap. Not at you. It’s just-“

“It’s okay, Lo. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

And of course, what kind of awkwardness couldn’t be avoided with a change of topic??

You swam next to him, splashing him playfully.

“I’ll tell you what. Let’s wait a few weeks, we’ll pull together something to present to jake. We can meet with him and discuss if he’ll let us travel and revive the trade.”

In all, it wasn’t a bad idea. Which was rare for Lo’ak. The least you could do was give him the opportunity. 

He smiled at you. And before you could say anything, he whooped wildly like a child, his elbow thrown around your neck, forcing you to wade abruptly closer.

“Aye! Y/n! I knew you could come around. We’re going to be such badass travelers.”

You chuckled, patting his back.

“As if I would say no to you.”

“If you did I might have to spit in your food.”

He announces proudly, floating on his back.

You gag.

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m distinguished.”

He corrects, reaching out his arms and moving them slowly in a paddle motion.

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 

Water was forgiving. Maybe that’s why you felt so familiar with it.

You haven’t felt forgiven for a lot of things in your life. Not now, anyways.

Underwater was where the sun’s warmth didn’t feel so harsh. You never had trouble discerning the safety and the solitude of land. 

You took a breath before submerging yourself under the 

The vault of the sky caves around its azure dome as light bent and broadened across the surface, stretching the sunset into a  henotic harmony. 

You dived deeper. Your arms pushed you forward, like wings guiding a bird through the skies.

The opaque world of glass rests under the world. The shadows of the depths are drunken words spreading orisons that seem like obstinate Orphics. 

mazarine whispers, and cyan and cerulean sing. 

Your thoughts seem to retreat to the uninhibited corners of your mind as you remain nantant.

Nothing could reach you here.

Well, maybe Lo’ak’s bitchy screeching.

“Y/n! Dude! Come on!”

He yanks you out of the water, his arm uncomfortably clamped around your waist like a child trying to retrieve a toy by fishing it out of water blindly.

You sputtered out the water that rushed to your face with the unexpected motion, so lost in your haze of serenity you barely heard Lo’ak the first time.

You coughed, squirming as he threw you into the plush riverbank grass.

“Shit! Sorry!”

He patted- well more like slapped your back roughly to try and aid your recovery.

“Sorry, sorry. You just weren’t coming up for air. I called your name like 10 times.”

You whacked him with your tail, and he hissed and held the spot on his arm.

“I don’t like being manhandled.”

You rasped, clearing the water from your throat.

“Dude who the fuck cares! My dad will handle us into a ditch if we’re not back in time!” 

Shit.

₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 

“Keep going!”

You yelled over your shoulder, scrambling over branches and through the brush. 

You jumped over a rock, slinging yourself up a step with a vine, looping around to check on Lo’ak, who was halfway seen sprinting to catch up with you.

“Shit! My bow-!”

“Don’t worry! I grabbed it back at the lake!”

He calls back to you.

“Just keep going!”

You nodded, nearly tripping as you sprang forward once again.

You raised two fingers to your lips, pressing air as the shriek of a whistle left you.

The flap of wings you heard wasn’t that far away.

You stopped at when you reached a cleaning, turning around to see Lo’ak skid to a stop.

Kailo landed infront of you both, you Quickly mounted him, throwing your bow in the holster on the side of the saddle.

“Hey buddy.”

Lo’ak cooed in a rushed manner, quickly giving him a few pats before hopping on behind you. You reached back, pulling him up. He wrapped an arm around your neck, hiking up his legs.

“Comfy?”

You asked, turning around to meet Lo’ak’s eyes. He was out of breath, chest heaving.

“Uh huh��� SHIT.”

You took off before he could answer, gently digging your heels into the sides of the saddle, pulling the strapped reign as Kailo took off.

Lo’ak tightened his hold using his elbow around your neck, his upright headlock was no unfamiliarity whenever you gave him rides.

But this is Lo’ak we’re talking about. Of course he got comfortable quickly.

There was a comfort to flying with Lo’ak.

It made you feel like a little kid again. Carrying eachother around on your backs, playing games and doing stupid things for stupid reasons because there was a time where being stupid was fun and okay.

And maybe, with Lo’ak, being stupid wasn’t so bad.

You banked left, diving through the center of an arched mountain over the forest. Lo’ak cheered and whooped, throwing his hands up, before cursing and holding onto you again after realizing he almost lost his balance.

His palm roughly cupped your shoulder as he sat himself up a bit higher, looking out onto the world below.

You climb a lift of air before directing Kailo to drop, a straight dive down the waterfall. Once you leveled out again, you and Lo’ak both leaned to the side, letting your fingertips skim the surface of the lake below.

You were never carelesss or reckless with Kailo. He was one of the fastest ikran your clan had ever seen, plus he was larger than most average ikran. That was no excuse to go flying so fast you fling yourself off the saddle.

But occasionally, you let yourself go.

“Please please please go faster!”

Lo’ak yelled, his volume competing wit. The wind.

“What? No. Any faster and we’ll crash into something.”

“Please!?”

Eh, why not? He’s had a rough couple of days. So have you.

You dived down again, grinning as you joined Lo’ak in his wild bouts of yelling.

But the fun didn’t last forever. Ahead, high camp came into view.

₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 

You could feel Lo’ak’s hand shaking slightly as you both touched down through the large entrance crevice of high camp.

“Dad’s gonna kill us.”

Lo’ak groaned, sliding off the saddle behind you, petting Kailo a few times.

“Just relax and let me do the talking.”

You shook your head, giving his shoulder a small squeeze.

“It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know everything.”

“Where the hell have you crotch stains been!?”

And you sure as hell knew who that voice belonged to.

Lo’ak jumped a bit, turning to see Jake barging himself towards you both.

“Fuck.”

Lo’ak muttered under his breath. So quietly he might not have said it all.

He hung his head, a few of his braids swinging over his shoulders, he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, only glancing up once to look at you.

A few heads turned, some na’vi bearing witness to the spectacle of their olo’eyktan yelling at his kids.

And boy, he did not look happy.

Lo’ak puts both hands up, something you’ve noticed Neteyam do when Jake got heated like this. As if trying to calm a raging animal from attacking.

“Dad, I know this looks bad.”

“I would be concerned if you thought this didn’t ‘look bad’, Lo’ak.”

Jake bit back, his taller figure looming over his son.

Lo’ak bit his lip, his fingers twitch as his fingers dangle at his sides.

“You disobeyed me.”

The space between his brow wrinkles offensively.

“How did I disobey you?”

“I asked you, I asked ALL of your siblings this morning to let y/n rest and i found out you two go off on a joyride!?”

“Slow down Jake or you’ll have a heart attack.”

You sigh, stepping forward until your gaze is paralleled with his.

Lo’ak snorts, but he quickly masks his amusement as Jake sends him a glare, then he sends you one.

“You and I will talk later, I can only deal with one delinquent at a time.”

He waves you away.

“No, since you have enough to dish out for Lo’ak here, i’m sure there;s plenty for us to share.”

You felt like a teenager edged with attitude, especially when you loved and respected Jake so much. But seeing Lo’ak get wrung out all the time was exhausting. 

“Jake this wasn’t Lo’ak’s fault.”

Lo’aks shaking fingers stilled, the ghost your side, gesturing to you that you didn’t have t0 take this for him.

“I’m the one that suggested we go for a ride. We took kailo and went to the lake for a few hours. Cleared my head. Did some meditating just like you suggested.”

You nudge him playfully, but the man didn;t look amused. Conflicted was probably the right word.

“Either way, I said he was to stay away from you for at least a day.”

“Jake, he doesn;t run up my blood pressure like he does yours. He’s fine. No one was hurt. Nothing happened, and Lo’ak didn’t want me to go alone.”

You Lo’ak a look, commionucating silently with your eyes.

Dude. say something.

Lo’ak nods, fishing himself out of a daze.

“R-right. Yes. right, we just went to the lake, dad.”

Jake sighed, rubbing his fingers to his temple, attempting to soothe the brewing headache, virtue to the usual shenanigans Lo’ak and you could never seem to shake.’

“Guys, i really don’t think that-”

“Wait! The only reason we stayed longer is because Lo’ak wanted to grab these.”

You grabbed the satchel that rested on Lo’aks hip, opening the woven flap to display the fruits you gathered earlier.

You gently thwacked lo’ak with your tail, and he immeditaaly caught the jist.

“I know theyre mom’s favorites.”

Lo’ak batted his eyes while you gave jake a sickeningly sweet smile.

He groaned, turning away.

“Out of my sight. Both of you. Now.”

“Okay thanks! Love you dad!!”

You and Lo’ak sprinted across the camp, submerged in your own laughter. You scurried mo’at;s tent, shutting the flap when he turned to you.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Eywa wouldn't let us face battles if she knew we were going to do it alone.” 

₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊

Neteyam’s pov, the sullys tent:

My mother hates crowds. It’s not something I’ve inherited. 

You can tell by the way she shrinks behind my father or grandmother when we have clan gatherings. The way she resorts to fidgeting with her songchord or holding Tuk’s hand to distract herself from the ocean of eyes that are standing in front of her.

Tonight the clan eats communally. We do it every once in a while. My grandmother told me that the people did it every night before hometree was destroyed, but as time faded, so did our habits, I suppose.

Maybe thats why tonight, as my family prepares to leave for communal meal, the air is uneasy and tense.

Kiri and I had been home almost all day, watching Tuk while my grandmother rested and my mother attended to her duties around high camp.

It feels empty without my father, Lo’ak, and y/n.

My mothers voice pulls my attention.

“Neteyam, go wake your grandmother.”

She kneeled down in the corner, tending to Tuk, trying to pick the leaves out of her hair.

“Uh huh. Give me a second.”

I set the freshly washed bowls I just finished scrubbing down in the pile where we left all our dishes. 

I turned to see my grandmother, currently 18ft deep in her beyond-afternoon nap. 

I sighed, stretching my arms behind my back, locking my fingers together to soothe the tightness in my muscles as I walk my way over to her.

“Grandmother.”

I tap her shoulder, her snores blaring lowly.

I sigh. Waking up my grandmother was usually a two man job.

“Grandmother? Grandmother???”

She stirs, but doesn’t wake.

I poke her shoulder lightly with my fingers.

She gasps awake, flinging her arm at my face, I step back, flinching at the action.

She sits up, squinting at me before her gaze softens.

“Neteyam, I’m sorry. I thought you were your father.”

“So you were planning to smack my father?”

“That’s beyond the point. I had the most wonderful dream.”

She reminisced dreamily.

I shifted on my feet awkwardly.

“That’s wonderful, grandmother. But I woke you because-“

“Quiet boy. I’m speaking.”

Great. Just what I was aiming to avoid.

I straighten, a rough breath falling from my lips. Settling in for the haul of whatever was to come.

“Apologies, Tsahik. You were saying?”

“Well.”

She begins.

“It was many years ago…when your mother told me she was with child.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then once she started, eywa she just wouldn’t stop..one child after another..”

I catch my mother glaring out of the corner of my eye.

“Neteyam, I think your grandmother can get up on her own.”

She hisses.

Grandmother waves her off.

“Don’t listen to her, boy. Go fetch my cane.”

My mother throws her arms up to express exaggeration.

“You don’t need a cane, Sa’nok.”

I stand warily between the two of them.

“And you don’t need to be sneaking off with your husband every few nights.”

My grandmother shoots back.

Maybe there was a reason for my father’s constant headaches.

It’s kiri’s voice that grasps my attention. I turn to see her enter the Marui with a half-weaved basket in her hands.

“Neteyam, while the golden girls are fighting, you might wanna take the time to worry about yourself.”

I shake my head, protesting gently. Something keeping me tied to multitasking bites at the back of my mind.

“No, I got it.”

She gives me a look, setting the basket-in-progress down and crossing her arms.

“Neteyam, you have been chasing Tuk around all day, helping mother clean, and as much as I know you enjoy being serenaded by grandmothers snoring, you need a break.”

“Kiri, really I'm fine.”

“I wasn’t asking. Go.”

Arguing with Kiri was useless. There was no competing with full-bodied ambition when ignited. 

I surrender. Retreating behind the curtain of the divider between the two areas of my family’s home.

I busy myself with personal tasks. Sharpening my knife, rummaging through lo’ak’s hammock to retrieve the armbands I know for a fact he's stolen from me. Again.

About 1o minutes had passed. I had found 8 armbands when I heard the familiar voice of my father as he entered the tent.

I slip under the divider sheet to see him. He alternates looks between Lo’ak and Y/n as they shuffle inside.

“Ma’jake.”

My mother sighs in relief, as if my father is the shower of fresh rain after a drought.  She holds Tuk on her hip as she squirms and giggles.

“Where have you been? There is much that needs to be done.”

My father pauses as he takes in each dilemma. 

Kiri and Grandmother arguing in the corner.

My mother is holding an overly-hyper tuk.

Lo’ak and Y/n laughing for whatever reason.

And me. Peeking out from behind the sheet.

“I can see that.”

He affirms, reaching out to take tuk off my mother’s hands.

running his hand down her back in soothing circles, trying to get both of them to calm down.

My father knows my mother is full of love. He also knows when not enough of that love is kept for herself.

Lo’ak stares at our parents, his expression of mild disgust.

“Do you two want a moment alone?”

A laugh follows, my eyes ascertaining to its source.

Her. Oh it’s her. 

Oh. 

It’s her.

She stands behind Lo’ak, a lean azure frame. Droplets gleam and scintillate as they slide down her skin. Her bangles and bracelets shine under the fractured light. I try so hard not to stare. I try to focus on anything. Anything at all. Anything that won’t make me feel like I’m staring at a woman who’s wet and shiny like some kind of pervert. 

Fuck. That sounded like I was describing a river rock or something.

‘wEt aNd sHiNy.’ 19 years old, future Olo’eyktan of your clan  and you can’t even talk. I feel like the ground envelops me in quicksand, my lungs famine for air. Eywa, she was pretty.

‘Pretty’ feels like a disparagement. Makes me feel inarticulate for lacking a better word. Beautiful. Stunning. Hot? Is hot weird? She is hot. Is that weird? Am I weird?

If there is another word. I’ll find it

Her braids cascade down her back, a crown of curls and waves Unwinding at the where the braids end, the curls I sometimes imagine spilling through my fingers while I capture sweet sounds that fall from her lips.

Am I weird for this? 

My father speaks, yanking me out of my haze.

“Baby, I can always call off the clan gathering if you’re not feeling a crowd tonight.”

He adjusts Tuk on his hip, picking a leaf out of her hair.

My mother shakes her head.

“No. I’m alright. There is just much to be done before we leave…”

My dad nods graciously, placing Tuk back to her feet again.

“Say no more. We’ll get everyone outta here in one piece.”

“Were you planning on us leaving disembodied?”

Kiri asks, her tone welcoming sarcasm in its arms.

Lo’ak chimes in.

“Can I swap out my loincloth real quick? I hate having the wet weaving slapping against me every time I walk.”

“Then why would you get wet?”

Kiri asks, rather harshly.

“Why do you cut your hair like that knowing your forehead is too big?”

“It astounds me how every day you talk about my forehead. Did you know they almost had to cut mom open because your head was so abnormally enormous??”

Lo’ak looks at my mom with incredulous eyes. 

“Ma she’s lying. Right?”

My mom evades any squander of the moment as she turns to duck under the divider flap to where  my parents slept.

“Ma’Jake, I’m going to change my top before we leave.”

Lo’ak falls to his knees, a dramatic anguished groan leaves him.

“Oh shit. I’m a freak. I’m a freak with a huge head.”

“You’re not a freak. You just have your fathers genes. I’m sure Jake was unusually large as well.” y/n comforts him, gesturing to my father.

“The hell I wasn’t.” My dad pipes up, trying to wrestle Tuk into sitting still.

Kiri shrugs, leaning against the wooden pillar to the side of the sheet as she fidgets with one of Y/n’s braids, standing behind her.

“I think we should banish Lo’ak for the attempted murder of the Tsahik daughter.”

I snicker, nudging Kiri 

“Mother would have joined eywa doing what she loved. Screaming at father.”

She laughed, tossing her head back.

Lo’ak’s jaw drops, he tries to speak but only a string of syllables come out.

“That’s not fucking fair.”

My dad glares at all three of us.

“Watch your mouth boy. And what did I say about plotting murder during dinner.”

Y/n blinks, tilting her head.

“We aren’t eating dinner.”

“I don’t give a damn-!

Okay, you know what? New rule. No discussing murder. Period.”

Kiri clicks her tongue, the usual gleam flickering across her irises.

“Can we discuss manslaughter?”

The sentence teases its own tone.

She places her palms against one another in a paring position before pointing them outwards towards my father.

Y/n mimics her.

“If we can’t discuss it can we at least plan one? Me and Kiri have already worked out a date and time.”

“And we have a target.”

Kiri adds, nodding confidently.

“For the love of god, I will put all of you on time out. And your grandmother can join you.”

My father threatens. Glaring at all of us.

Grandmother speaks as she slowly arises from her sitting spot on the floor, Lo’ak assisting her by holding her arm.

“Good. That will give me and the children time to plot against you.”

She speaks matter-of-factly.

I laugh, watching Tuk’s big eyes travel between my father and the rest of us as she tries to keep up with the conversation.

We all turn to see my mother as her figure is guided back through the divider, a new top now covering her chest.

It had flowers on it, delicately placed in a pattern over her breasts. Vines braided over her shoulders to hold the garment in place.

My fathers eyes take the shape of stars as he sees her, the sun setting outside and him both share a flicker of breath as she moves toward us.

“Are we ready?”

She asks, placing some of her braids behind her shoulder.

My father whistles, a hand coming up to cover the grin that etched its way onto his face.

“Goddamn. You look..”

“Like a pretty flower!”

Tuk chirps, clapping excitedly as she runs to my mother, hugging her waist.

“I was gonna say gorgeous, but yeah. That works too.”

Gorgeous. That’s the word I was looking for.

She giggles as she strides her way over to him, He takes a step behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, another hand tracing circles in her hip.

“Y/n made this one.”

She murmurs, speaking quietly for my father.

“Do you like it?”

“Kids’ got taste. It’s stunning. Do a spin for me.”

My dad nods approvingly, Y/n feigns cockiness, posing and swaying her hips.

“Of course I have taste. The best there is, no doubt.”

Out of all of the fabrics, all the leaves and flowers and materials on the planet, I think her smile always looks the most stunning.

“You know who else has taste?”

My father whispers, clearly not quiet enough, the endnotes a purr.

My mother gasps, it twirls into a chuckle.

“Ma’Jake, the children are watching.”

“Kids, look away!”

My dad demands, kissing my mothers cheek as she squirms in his arms.

“Oh I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Kiri gags, clearly not fawning over my parents' affections the way y/n or tuk is.

My grandmother wedges herself between my parents, poking my fathers chest.

“Enough of this. It is time to depart. Before you both go and make another child I will have to deal with it.”

That was my fathers cue as he sighs dramatically, scooping up a squirming Tuk and twirling her around like a princess.

“Alright family let’s get going. Roll tide.”

“Roll tide!”

Tuk mimics my fathers lingo as we exit the tent, single file. 

Tuk scurries infront of me. Hopping vigorously to squeeze her way in between my parents as they walk ahead of us. 

Lo’ak and Kiri take turns bickering with grandmother, keeping their paces ahead of me.

I saunter off behind them. The cool air and dwindling distant conversations plexure in the atmosphere. Families talking, children laughing, all coalesce into a chorus that ceases its journey where the darkening night sky ends.

I turn as I feel a tap on my shoulder,

Big, doe-like gold eyes invade my gaze. Those eyes are my vice. My biggest sorrow and my greatest gift.

The auric hues captivate me. The gleam so picturesque the shadows run for shelter. 

She’s still wet from the river. The shine from the droplets define her features, tracing every curve, clinging to every dip.

I feel ensnared in her equivalent of hypnosis. The expanse of her throat, the coves of her eyelids, every inch of her has me infatuated.

She doesn’t look like she belongs here. Her features lack those of a mortal being in regularity. A deity you’d sacrifice yourself for in the form of a disguise.

“Oh— you.”

Oh wow. That must make women swoon. ‘Oh. You.’ Might as well have said ‘ew. It’s you.’

Pull yourself together!

She recoils, its so slight you might not have noticed it at all.

She’s nervous. 

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to check up on you.”

Her steps find competence as they match my own. Her fingers lock together as she strides with them behind her back.

I awkwardly shuffle to keep pace with her.

“Oh, no. Please don’t apologize.”

I wave my hands stupidly, as if she’s hard of hearing and needs to have everything signaled. 

I clear my throat, clearing the hoarseness. Letting a silence settle before I realize what she’s said.

“You..wanted to check on me?”

She nods, her eyes meeting mine for a 

moment. She’s only a few inches shorter than me. It always reminds me of how she teased me when we were kids, saying I’d never catch up to her height. 

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I just…Lo’ak told me you were acting a little…off? This morning?”

Oh. You mean where you consumed every single one of my waking thoughts? This morning where I woke up still imaging you hugging me? This morning? Where I woke up stunned, paralyzed, drunken in enamorment of how on eywa’s green ground you could possibly be real when you have beauty of such extravagance?

“I have no idea what you speak of.”

I shrug,  crossing my arms over my chest.

She’s skeptical.

“Oh. I see.”

“Yup. Nothing wrong.”

“So, you weren’t moaning into a a fruit this morning?”

A who-was-moaning-into-a what?

“What are you talking about?”

She laughs, shaking her head.

“I just heard from a friend, that you were…excited for breakfast.”

Oh, the joy of having siblings.

I groan.

“No, that was a misunderstanding.”

She nods, trying to regain seriousness.

“Of course..I figured it was.”

Her cheeks puff slightly, harboring laughter.

I would probably be annoyed if it was anyone but her. and if her laugh wasn’t my favorite sound.

“Okay, you know what? It was early, I was tired-“

“Oh please. I’ve known you since you could walk. You’ve always been a morning person.”

I scoff, trying to pretend she wasn’t right.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Neteyam, I’m going to be your teacher soon. You should confide in me,”

Her arm accidentally brushes mine as we walk.

“So I should know if there’s something between you and that fruit that might interfere with your focus.”

I sigh, shaking my head, my tail gently swishing behind me.

“Say it with me now. Okay? 1..2..3…you’ve been spending too much time with Lo’ak.”

She chortles, recoiling at the sound.

I doesn’t phase me.

Not one bit.

“It’s the other way around.”

She argues.

“I can’t disagree. Last week I caught him wearing one of your armbands..”

“The one your father gifted me after completing my rites of passage?”

“Amber stones, arrowed weaving?”

She snaps her fingers.

“That’s the one! The bastard. I’ve been searching for weeks.”

I chuckle, catching a glimpse of her profile at the side of my gaze.

“I don’t blame him, you know.”

My voice carried a sincereness that seemed out of place with the conversation.

She looks at me, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“For looking up to you.”

She scoffs.

“Neteyam-“

“No. I’m serious.”

And as much as I regret cutting her off, the way she said my name, so tired, as if it was worn.

“You are one of the strongest warriors this clan has ever seen. I know that for a fact. I hear the way my parents speak of you. The way the people look at you, the way the children braid their hair to look like you. Everyone loves and admires you. I know for a fact I lov-“

She slows for a millisecond. That’s all it took to correct myself. Her steps only broke its pace as consciousness calculated on the ledge of what i knew so well I almost said.

“I love admiring you. I hope you know that.”

She shifts slightly, her fingers fidgeting with one another instead of being held behind her. I can tell my words are an impudent invasion that scratch and claw at the walls she’s built.

“You don’t have to say things like that.”

All I can do is smile.

“I wasn’t born with jesters privilege, I’m only saying what I know. I’m not glorifying you.”

And suddenly, i forgot the concept of boundaries.

I blame the aureate iridescence in the paradox of her irises. 

“You just don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She looks at me, confusion capturing her.

“What are you talking about?”

I shrug.

“You’ve saved lives. Protected our clan. Defended us against the sky people. What more can you ask of yourself?”

She stops walking this time. Her eyes staring straight ahead of us. 

Her head turns slowly to stare at me. It’s not a look of offense, or fear.

My hand reaches for her back, my palm placed against the small of it.

“It’s just something to think about.”

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎

Y/n’s pov 

You stare at him as if he's shown you colors for the first time. Epiphanies impulse under your skin, their unwelcomed and you’re unprepared.

As you approach the large area where other clan members have already sat down with their families, sharing food and laughter, you find yourself wandering astray.

“Give yourself more credit.”

Credit for what? What did you do to deserve praise?

Protected others? It wasn’t a task. It was second nature. If you didn't, what else would they ate from you?

What were you if not the sword and shield? What would you become the day the war ended?

There was no credit to be given. There was nothing to be given because there was nothing left. Because you refuse to repeat your mistakes. To suffer at another’s hand, to suffocate under the wreckage of what was built only to be torn down. Cankered, tattered, stained fingers clutching at the flesh that stretched across your bones, bruises worn like badges of honor. 

You were afraid. So afraid of being sheltered and delicate. Being blinded and impetuous. 

“Y/n. Come sit with me.”

You feel an arm link with yours, and you catch Kiri at your side.

The stray braids that hung by her neck like vines from a canopy of verdant haven swung while she walked. She guides you out of your solivangant sondering.

Her gestures were laconic. Her eyes marbled over with a generous concern as she whisked you away, grabbing a wooden bowl for herself and one for you as well where they were being distributed.

“Are you alright, dear? You’re zoning out a ton.” She whispers, placing a hand on your back.

You shake every former thought from your head, washing your mind clean.

“No, it is nothing. It’s foolish.”

“It’s not foolish if it’s bothering you.”

She corrects, looking down as she gathers some meat onto her plate from the communal fire.

You shift on your feet, eyes trailing her movements.

“I’m fine. I just..suppose i haven’t eaten enough today. Its making me spacey and slow.”

She nods slowly, her tail lightly swishing behind her.

“Well then, take this plate.”

She hands you the plate she had just finished filling with roasted sturmbeast, and squares of yovo fruit.

You shake your head graciously, handing it back yo her mindlessly.

“Oh Kiri no– no this was yours.”

She scoffs, waving you off.

“I'm more than capable of making myself a new plate.”

She smiles at you, and the familiarity of it is a comfort. 

The frail dark bangs that wisped lightly above her eyebrows sweep subtly in the night breeze, the weightless braids that hang on the sides of her head swing softly, you reach your hands out and tuck a strand behind her ear, your fingertips grazing the subtle honey-oak streaks, a delicacy in your touch as if you were handling something a fragile as a flower petal.

“You’re so good to me.” Your tone was beatific, gentle.

She smiles smugly, dragging her fingers across where your collarbones rose and fell upon each drawn breath before handing you the plate once again.

“I’m keeping you alive and fed.”

Lo’ak peaks himself from behind kiri, his tail swishing.

“Kiri can you make my plate next?”

Her smile drops.

“No. Make your own damn plate.”

She rolls her eyes, grabbing another wooden piece to start piling with food for herself.

Lo’ak gawks, offended.

“You made Y/n’s no problem!”

“That’s because I like y/n. I tolerate you.”

You laugh as Kiri links her arm with yours, whisking you away to the large dwelling in the center of highcamp.

A large fire with meat cooking over it, and families scattered into their little circles and sat around the ground, people weaving in and out to reach their group.

Some families wave to you, calling out thanks as you walked, because it was you who had hunted the sturmbeest with neteyam they were eating now.

Kiri and you found a seat next to Mo’at. Neytiri, Lo’ak, Tuk, Neteyam, and Jake had not returned yet, so you 3 waited.

“Did you girls get everything you need?”

Mo’at asks, resting her hand atop her knee.

You nodded, taking a seat.

“Yes ma’tsahik. We did.”

There was an unspoken formality between you and Mo’at. Despite her knowing you since you were born. An implicit etiquette that’s been emplaced in you ever since childhood.

She reaches out for your arms, her nails scarcely printing tiny marks on your palm as she inspects your wrist and hand.

“Your cuts are healing.” She informs you, somehow knowing even though your incises from the day before are not visible anymore.

You figured the cuts you got from spider's mask would heal relatively quickly. However, the memories of the accident would leave a different kind of scar. 

You gently placed your hand back in your lap, your gaze only flicking away from Mo’at to see Tuk skipping towards your small sitting area with a bowl in her hand.

“The lake water might have sped up the process. It’s not bothering me, though. Just another couple cuts to add to my collection.”

Kiri giggles, nudging your arm.

“Another paint stroke to complete the masterpiece. Maybe we should hang you up next to tuk’s artwork.”

You snicker, making room for the smaller na’vi in question as she scurries to your side, snuggling herself in place next to you on the log.

“Healing cannot be rushed, child. Scars are more than just victories. It’s time you know that.”

Tuk gasps just as Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Neytiri find their places in the circle. 

She peers her head over your shoulder, looking down at your palm.

“It’s gonna be a scar??”

She blinked up at you with those big, disquieted, doleful eyes. She concernedly fumbled with your fingers, and you have to quickly gather her bowl into your lap with your other hand before it tips off her own with all of her movement.

“Oh no Tuk. I’m okay, love.” You kissed the top of her head, smiling at the way her nose twitched when you did.

“Do you want a kiss? To make it better.”

“Awh, sure. Thank you.”

She presses her lips to your bandaged palm.

“Mwah! All better.”  her sweet and stagey movements make you melt, proudly admiring her work.

“Thank you, Tuk-tuk.”

“Mhm.”

She sits back down, and you hand over her bowl.

She starts to eat, carefully picking the seeds out of her fruit slices.

“Are scars good or bad?”

She muffles through a mouthfull of juices.

Jake shrugs, leaning over to wipe the corners of her mouth with his thumb.

“Depends who you ask.”

Neytiri nods, her hand pressed to her chest briefly as she swallowed her bite before speaking.

‘Your father is correct. Scars are pieces of our memories. We carry them with us.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, either. Back where i come from we wear our scars like badges of honor.”

Jake chimes in, setting his elbow on his knee, his back stretching forward.

Mo’at scoffed.

“Don’t listen to your father, children.”

Waving him off, she took a sip from her herbal tea. 

Jake frowned, wincing as if he were in a cramping-kinda pain.

“Oh, I think I just got a new one.”

“A what?”

Neytiri inquires, concerned, confused, placing a hand on her husbands back.

“A new scar?”

“From what?”

“My mother in law..agh, how she wounds me.”

Neytiri hisses, a smile breaking from her and my fathers lips. 

Mo’at is unamused.

Jake shakes his head as his laughter dies out.

“Come on, I mean, it’s symbolic.”

“Symbolic of what? Stupidity?”

Mo’at chuckled.

“Of bravery. Strength. Survival.”

Jake defies the Tsahik gently.

“Scars are cool.”

Lo’ak agrees half-mindedly, munching and speaking with a full mouth in a similar manner to Tuk.

“Look at y/n. Her scars are badass as fuck.”

You kept your head down. Stuck between accepting it as a compliment or perceiving it as pernicious.

“Lo’ak, we do not speak of others bodies.”

Neytiri sterns.

“Right, and how many times have i told you to watch that mouth.” 

Jake rebuked Lo’ak’s word choice rigorously, pinching the back of his neck lightly.

Lo’ak shrunk away from his touch, receiving it with nothing much than a scrunch of his face before continuing.

“Scars are like ways of saying ‘I got through it’. You know? I mean, I’d rather have a scar than the other alternatives.”

Neytiri opened her legs the slightest bit, propping up one crossed as she displayed the inner of her thigh. With delicate fingers, she traced over a darkened discoloration, a jagged scar that dragged across the surface.

“This scar appeared shortly after giving birth to Tuktirey.”

She explained, her tone soothing and benign. 

You leaned forward, getting a closer glimpse at it.

Tuk pouted, guilt striking her expression.

“I did that? I’m sorry.”

You gently drew her closer to your side, a small laugh that was horribly compressed left you.

“No, Tuk. You didn’t do it. Some mothers get them after having babies. It’s normal.”

You explained.

Neytiri nodded, smiling graciously at you for explaining so gently.

“That’s right. And it has been with me ever since that day. It’s a symbol. Like your father says. Celebrating the day of arrival for a gift in my life.”

She gently runs her slender fingers down Tuk’s cheek in an affectionate stroke, Tuk giggles at the sensation.

Jake took a swig from his cup.

“Hell, if that’s not strength, I don’t know what is. I know I sure as hell couldn’t do it.”

“Ew dad. We know. We know how the male body works.”

Kiri retorted, appalled.

“I’m surprised mom doesn’t have a scar from giving birth to Lo’ak and his big head.”

Neteyam mumbles into his cup, clearly not quietly enough.

A laugh was shared around the circle, even Neteyam shaking with chuckles as his head hung low for the moment.

Tuk looked at you, big eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“You have scars. Do you like them??”

The circle became silent for a moment.

“Tuk!”

Neytiri and Jake both hissed in unison, their tone hesitant, scold-like.

“Tuk, we don’t ask such things.”

Neteyam, always the 3rd parent, corrects softly.

Tuk glances back at you, the sully’s eyes tracking her gaze.

You shook your head, clearing your throat of the hoarsness.

“No, no. Its alright. I mean, we were talking about it, right? No harm in asking.”

You turned to tuk, your eyes softening at the sight of her.

“Most of them, yes. They are symbols, like your father says. Scars are like..stories. Every single one has a place of origin, epitomes of remaining unbroken.”

“I like this one.”

Tuk points to the scar on your shoulder, the zig-zag imprint that dragged across the plate of your acromion almost resembling lightning.

You smiled, letting her trace her smaller fingers over it.

“So do i.”

You whisper.

Neytiri smiles at the both of you. Her gaze holds its tender warmth, radiating its warmth like a sun ray washing your soul.

“My beautiful girls.” She coos, reaching out to kiss Tuk’s head and Tuk a braid behind your ear.

She turns to Kiri, side-gazing at Lo’ak and Neteyam.

“All of you are beautiful. No matter how many scars you have, you are all so much more than what lies on your skin.”

“We’re not beautiful Neteyam and I are stoic, unfeeling, we don’t have time for that.”

Lo’ak affirms, proudly slinging an arm around Neteyam, making him lurch to the side awkwardly, a couple of fruit slices roll off his plate due to the action.

“Lo’ak, my food.” Neteyam swats Lo’ak away.

Neytiri pouts, “No, both of my sons are beautiful.”

She grabs Neteyam’s face, peppering it with kisses before she does the same to Lo’ak.

Lo’ak groans, floundering in her hold.

“Ma, come on..stop..Okay, okay, stop. I’m not beautiful, I’m handsome.”

Neytiri taps his nose with her finger. “You’re both.”

 She giggles.

“You’re neither, you hell-raiser.”

Kiri hisses blatantly.

The air remained unscathed of burden as laughter simmered in the air, you found nepenthe with the Sully family, making the night seem so endless it could stretch into the stratosphere. 

»»———–➤𖤓☽꩜———–➤𖤓☽꩜———𖤓☽꩜———–➤»»———–𖤓☽꩜———»

You laughed as you spun Tuk around by her arms, the meaningless balter keeping her entertained her laughter.

“Again! Again!”

She laughs, jumping up and down, reaching up to be spun around again.

You smile, grabbing her arms.

“Okay, okay- ready? 1…2..3..”

Supporting her tightly by her forearms, you swing her around as her squeals of laughter flood your ears.

“Y/n, you up for a quick flight?”

It was Jake’s voice that beckoned your attention. You turned away from playing with tuk to see him gathering the wooden bowls in his arms to haul back to the sully’s tent.

“Right now?”

He nods, shifting the pile in his arms. “Yeah. I mean, do you have something planned?”

You can’t remember the last time Jake Sully willingly encouraged anyone in his family to go on ikran out after dark since the return of the Rda unless it was him and Neytiri for the occasional date night.

You turn to Neytiri,  who only gives Jake a pensive look.

“Will you be out late?”

He shakes his head.

“Of course not, baby. Just taking Y/n out for a little nighttime crusade.”

Neytiri nods, slowly and pensively as she hands the bowls in her hands over to Neteyam.

There’s a stretch of quiet that spreads through the air. High camp was settling down for the evening. Families gathering up their food and families and eating ware and retreating back to their tents and huts for rest. It was unusual to be out past that tim unless Jake had arranged a patrol group.

“Where are you guys even going this late?” Lo’ak queries intrepidly.  

Jake shrugs, starting to walk behind Mo’at, who held hands with Tuk and walked alongside Kiri back towards the sully’s tent.

“Just got something’s to discuss.”

Jake’s answers are succinct and ambiguous.

Neteyam rears himself closer to Jake, his steps carefully matching pace with his father as he carted the woven sack of sitting mats under his arm.

“Will you be discussing the next raid? I can accompany you both if needed, father.”

He glances at you preventively, as if desiring to shape himself into a shield around you.

Jake causally declined his offer, patting his shoulder supportively.

“I think we’re good for tonight, son. You can rest easy.”

Neteyam nods, but you can tell he’s chastened. Jake always kept Lo’ak and Neteyam in this constant cage that clipped their wings, keeping them away from the fighting.

But something tells you this wasn’t about raid planning, or even the war.

Jake hands the pile in his arms off to Kiri, who mumbles under her breath as she tries to catch up with Mo’at. He turns to you, “Y/n, why don’t you run along and gear up Kailo. I’ll meet you at the crevice in a few minutes.”

Before you could answer, Neytiri appears behind him, her eyes softening soothingly, her gaze condemning with concern.

“Please be safe. Both of you.”

She whispered, placing a hand on your cheek and reaching up to kiss Jake’s shoulder.

“Baby, nothing will happen to her or me as long as I’m there.”

Neytiri doesn’t seem consoled.

“Y/n, please keep an eye on him.”

She sighs.

You chuckle, letting her kiss your hairline.

“I promise.”

She cracks a small smile, Jake reaches for her palm. Ghosting her fingertips across her lip, kissing the heel of her palm.

As if committing the feel of her skin to memory, even if he’s not away from her for long.

“Don’t worry I’ll be back before you know it.”

He winks at her, his eyes drifting to the cinch of her waist.

“Ew gross.”

You recoil, scrunching up your nose at Jake.

He rolls his eyes, waving you off.

“Go. Get your ikran ready. I’ll be there in a bit.”

You nod, jogging off to the rookery where your clans ikrans resided.

The air tonight was warm. Undertones of a glass remnants and tattered clouds. You were halfway to the crevice, quieting yourself with your inner thoughts, when you paused at the call of your name.

“Y/n!”

A juvenile voice echoes behind you. High pitched and distinct.

You turn around, and a small Na’vi child comes into view. She has yellow feathers in her hair. A woven grass top and braids that reached her shoulder blades. 

Popiti. She was one of your students. She was apart of the group of children Makeyo and you taught archery lessons.

“Popiti! What are you doing here, evi’? (Child, affectionate.)

She scampered to you, wrapping her arms around your waist, smiling wide.

“She wanted to come say thank you.”

Another voice gathered your attention.

A taller Na’vi slowly sweeps her way out of the shadows. Tall. Feminine. Her steps were rushed. They lacked gracefulness. Her confidence was pure forgery, wearing a mask made of fool's gold and a fetish for mystique.

“Kyuna.”

You greeted, your face rather neutral.

Kyuna was only older than you by a year. Regardless of your age, you always surpassed her in most aspects.

Hunting?

She could never finish a hunt. Meanwhile you were dragging home freshly arrows skin-deep in a yerik.

Status?

Everyone is valued in your clan. That was a known fact. But it was you who was named the Olo’eyktan a strongest warrior.

You were stronger. Faster. Smarter. 

It made you feel a bit guilty, how often so many didn’t make any effort to make your transcendence discreet. 

She smiled at you. It was thin. Fake. Feigning any ounce of genuine decency.

“Popiti here wanted to thank you for y tonight’s meal. It was you who hunted the sturmbeast, right?”

You nodded, still stroking the top of Popiti’s head affectionately

“Yes. I was. It was my pleasure, Popiti.”

You smiled graciously down at the little girl who beamed up at you as if you were everything she ever wanted to become.

“When I get big, I’m going to be a warrior just like you. I’m gonna have a beautiful bow, with carvings and beads just like yours! And I’m gonna have-“

Your heart melts a bit as she rambles on, every word idolizing you.

A sudden hand on her head cuts her off. Kyuna pulls her closer in the opposite direction. Her ability to endure the nicety’s hanging by a thread. 

“Popiti, why don’t you run along home.”

Her smile pathetically conceals the bite in her tone.

“But I don’t know how-“

“Now.”

With a small, sad wave, the smaller Na’vi huffs and stomps away.

You tilt your head back up to Kyuna.

When your eyes met hers, you can tell she’s frustrated just by the mere sight of you.

You cleared your throat, trying to rid the awkward intermission from the air.

“It was nice of her to thank me in person. She’s a good kid.”

Kyuna’s arms remained crossed, her gaze distant, occupied with other things

“Mhm. I’m surprised you had time to see her, after all, you’re always busy with the Olo’eyktan or..or those Sully boys.”

Lo’ak and Neteyam were both men but whatever.

She clicks her tongue, raking your figure up and down.

You forced a laugh.

“Well, I am living with them after all.”

“And sleeping with them.”

You snap your head up. The comment a little too dour to be a meaningless joke.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh! Y/n, I’m sorry.”

She suddenly gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth that hangs wide open like an animal expecting food.

“I would never mean it like that, I just meant that ever since the clan decided to come up here to the mountains, everybody’s tents became a little…disorganized. Right? You’re sleeping in a hammock with Lo’ak? So I’ve heard.”

You don’t know where the fuck she would even ‘hear’ that from.

You straightened, your patience running thin and your tolerance for jealousy incredibly low.

“It’s two separate hammocks woven together. We’re not sleeping ontop of one another.”

You elaborated, chuckling to yourself.

“Can you even imagine sleeping so close to one of them? Well, I’m sure some would want to imagine it.”

Your tone carried a clear enmity.

Her cheeks flushed, her tail swishing fervently behind her.

Shes nervous now. What happened to all of that confidence?

“Well, I hope I don’t strike you as someone who’s desperate.”

“Oh no, of course not. That’s what makes people so good at it.”

You smiled, locking your fingers together behind your back.

She’s stunned for a moment. Stilling as her imperceptible brain struggles to process everything that’s been said.

“Well, I must be going. I have to meet with the Olo’eyktan. But I wish you a good night, Kyuna.”

She snaps out of her daze.

“H-huh? Oh. Oh yes, good night, Y/n.”

She stares at you. A mix of awe and envy compete for sovereignty.

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 

“What are we doing here?”

You and Jake had flown into the night, and landed on one of the mountain tops, the flat rock making space for you both as he sat across from you.

“Have a seat, Y/n.”

You didn’t know why he had brought you there. And you were feeling anxious for n some unknown reason. When you left, Jake insisted you leave your bow and other weapons at home. He promised that you didn’t need them. But how could he know that? How can he possibly understand the stability you felt when those objects were near?

Death, chaos, war, grief, it didn’t wait for anyone. Ever.

“Am I in trouble?”

You asked, nervously shifting on your feet. The rest of the world seemed to drift farther and farther away.

“Y/n.”

“Because If I did something wrong, I can fix it. I promise.”

“Y/n.”

“Jake this is killing me just tell me why-“

“Y/n.”

You felt his large palms cup your biceps, holding you still.

“…yes?”

“Take a deep breath.”

He said softly.

You looked at him puzzled before inhaling in, holding it for a good 3 seconds then exhaling out.

“Attagirl. Are we calm now?”

You nodded, finally sitting across from him, crossing your legs.

He smiled at you, clearly proud of himself.

“Y/n, welcome to your very first therapy session.”

You begged the finest pardon?

You froze. 

Did you hear him right?

Therapy. The word sounded familiar. Then you remember that day he told you about it when you both went hunting.

Should you laugh? Be pissed? Both?

“What the hell are you talking about. Jake?”

He shrugged.

“Well, I’m no professional-“

“Clearly.”

“But I’d figured this would help with…”

He considers his next words, opting for gesturing to your entire self with his hands, 

“Jake, I love you. I really do. You’ve done so much for me over the years. But I’m about 2 minutes away from rocking your shit.”

Not paying any mind to the threat. Jake waves his arms, ridding your frustration from the air.

“You know what, let’s start over. And please. Just give this a chance, yeah?”

“Fine.”

Jake leaned back, locking his fingers together and resting them on his stomach.

“Usually this kind of thing starts with a simple introduction.

Hi, my name is Jake. And I will be your therapist this evening.”

“Jake you know my name.”

He nods.

“Maybe I know your name yes, but I’m here to know your soul and what energy you put out into the universe.”

“Are you stroking out? What the fuck are you talking about.”

He groans.

“Come on kid, bare with me.”

You sigh defeatedly.

“Okay. Okay. Hi. My name is y/n. And I’m an adrenaline addict. Better?”

“…well, we had to start somewhere.”

☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

Authors note:

Stay hating Kyuna. Ik your itching like a bitch without your eczema cream 💕🫶🏽

lol anyways, I hope you guys Enjoyed this chapter. It’s very rushed but I had so much writing sully family fluff. And starting next chapter, we’ll get into Neteyam starting his training with Y/n. And you best believe there is some tension 😌 also you’re gonna have mini therapy sessions with Jake from now on. Remember when they discussed that in chapter 3?? lol.

But I wanted to share a little life update with you guys. I hope you don’t mind. For those of you who don't know, I’m in a relationship. And yes, sme of you probably know him as the guy who was the victim of my cgi faces avatar experiment 🤭

GUYS YOUR GIRL GOT A PROMISE RING 🥳🥳

Now, I don't want anyone thinking I'm bragging or ‘rubbing it in others' faces)’…you guys are the first people I've told. I'm still in shock about it. The point of telling you guys this is that love is beautiful, and I don't think my writing can even begin to express the full extent of that. And one of the many things I love is writing for you guys. I know you guys have never met me and probably never will, and I'm just some person tapping away about blue aliens and posting my silly little rants from time to time, but please know that I appreciate all of you. Every single one of you who read, support, comment, like, repost, my anons, my followers, the friends I've made here, I hope I make you guys as happy as you all have made me. I can’t wait to share my fics and creations with all of you. One of the reasons I love writing for ‘y/n’ and reader inserts is because as someone who has read y/Insert fics, I know how special they can make us feel. So long rant short, I hope I make you guys feel like sexy, gorgeous, devastatingly beautiful, badass bitches yall are ☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊

Taglist 🪐🌑🪻

@fluorynn (my guest of honor 👑)

@mntx666

@isnt-itstrange @thebestrouge

@bay7let

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[cythaeria]

People who don't view Jotaro as misogynistic are so annoying. I wanted to give these people the benefit of the doubt because "Oh what if they're just not educated enough on misogyny and how versatile it is." But no! We should be able to recognize misogyny in this day and age!!

You people can't recognize misogyny if it isn't in your face "Women should die" kind of bullshit and it's tiring!!

It's tiring to see people coddle Jotaro and treat people who think of him as misogynistic as unreasonable and media illiterate as if it doesn't 100% make sense why they'd think that.

Before I continue this sporadic ramble I need to say that I love Jotaro so damn much, he's my second favorite character in the entirety of Jojo! But I can accept that he has his faults and that's completely okay in my eyes, sometimes characters have unlikeable traits and are assholes and we just have to accept that. Your favorite character is fucked, accept it, and keep on going with your day.

This is none of that "gen z is trying to cancel eminem?" Shit. Accept him for who he is!!! Let him live his misogynistic truth!!!!

Jotaro stans truly do not wanna believe he's ever done anything wrong and I love him the most when he's doing wrongs! I loved you when you left your family and became a deadbeat just to protect them, I saw you and I loved you. Separate thing but. Whatever. Anyways.

"How can people call Jotaro a misogynist if the people he's done the most for are his mother, wife, and daughter?"

Does the misogyny suddenly disappear from men simply because they care for their family members who are women?? The men in my family would do anything to keep me safe but in the same breath, they'll apply stereotypes to me and make it known that I am not on the level of men just because I'm a woman. I'm sure this is the case for most people. Being a misogynist and loving the women in your life are things that coexist! It's their views on and behavior towards women overall that are fucked.

"People forget that he was just 17 when introduced and going through an edgy phase."

So suddenly that absolves him of the misogyny?? Just because he's a 17 year old boy?? And this is stated as if part 3 is the ONLY time he's misogynistic when in part 4 he's assuming Kira is unmarried because if he had a wife he wouldn't need to go to a tailor shop?? What the fuck does that mean Jotaro.

Like it's so clear to me that in his head the right way for women to exist is if they're the traditional housewife type that is submissive, modest, quiet, gentle, etc etc. And this is stated in his character bio! "Favorite type of women: traditional Japanese (hates women who don't shut up)" We can make so many educated guesses off of that And the way he treats women! But maybe I'm just looking at it from a limited point of view, maybe traditional means something completely different in Japan, which if it does, please let me know what it means exactly because I'm not Japanese so I don't know what "stereotypically Japanese girls" quite means.

"He's autistic and hates loud people."

He's autistic and his special interest is calling women bitches! And I'd argue that even when no noisy commotion is happening, he's still just...an asshole? Like when they were in that Café(?) After they got him out of jail and Holly is clinging to him, expressing her relief, he just calls her an annoying bitch?? And it seems like he isn't uncomfortable, he could've shoved her off if he was(as he does) so.....?

"He's gay."

Jojo fans will bring out 200 headcanons before just admitting that their favorite character is a misogynist. Little edit: :0!!! Someone in tags mentioned that gay men can be misogynistic and yes, that part! Just because you hc him as only liking men that means it's...suddenly ok for him to be an asshole towards women? I didn't go too much into detail originally bc I felt like I was repeating myself too much but yessss!

"He's mean to everyone."

So true but especially to women in particular. And like I said, misogyny comes in so many different forms and not just being "mean to girls". He thinks women are inherently weak and because of that, they should be protected.

"She's no mere woman." Jotaro stumbles upon a woman stronger than him and he just can't fucking. Comprehend it.

IT'S OKAY. It's okay to like a character who is misogynistic, I just think it's weird to act like "My Jotaro would never!! He's just a baby boy!!🥺🥺"

Personally, I like it? I really like the idea of building off of that. Jotaro later on in life becoming comfortable with femininity and possibly exploring his gender identity more and transfeming all over the place. A little Dave Strider moment.

There are some opinions that I disagree with though. I saw someone bring up the fact that he abandoned his wife and Jolyne as a counterpoint to him not being misogynistic and I just feel like that's clearly...something completely separate from him being a misogynist.

Also I'd add when he discovered Anne was a girl in here if I wasn't so on the fence about it buuuuuut thinking thoughts.

I dunno, it just upsets me little bit. Learn about the many ways the world oppresses women, be in the known, and all that before you go to war for Thee Jotaro Kujo.

Don't know if this is any good, it's very all over the place and badly written but I just needed to get it out and stuff. Maybe I'm in the wrong and I don't know Jojo like That. Anyways, if you have any thoughts and such, mayhaps reply, I'd like to read them!

[makethatelevenrings]

Rest // D. Grayson x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: illness, mentions of child assassins, not Titans!verse I just think Brenton is pretty

Summary: You’re feeling sick but refuse to admit you are. Damian intervenes and makes sure Dick is aware of the problem.

This is apart of Assassin!verse that you can read here

You had been shot, stabbed, poisoned, thrown through windows, and broken numerous bones, but for some reason, this sore throat was going to be the end of you. When you woke up that morning, it started as a simple scratchy throat that had bloomed into some demonic rash of pain that coated your throat and made every swallow feel like knives scraping against your skin.

“You are unwell,” Damian observed. You ignored him in favor of jabbing the small needle through the taut fabric and tugging it down. Cass had recommended embroidery as a hobby you should try out and you found that it was soothing, fun, and an outlet for you. After spending years surrounded by silence and met with anger if you spoke out of turn, sometimes you needed to retreat from the constant noise of the Wayne Manor.

While you had your apartment in Bludhaven, some problems in Gotham required the both of you, and Haley of course, to stay at the Manor for a few days.

Where two of the family members attended school and the others interacted with the public every single day.

So, of course, you got sick.

You stabbed the point into the fabric once more and pulled it taut. You hoped that Tim would like the screaming possum design you were making for him. He loved sending you those memes and delighted in the fact that he gets to teach you about memes and pop culture.

“I’m fine.” You internally winced at how rough your voice sounded. Nothing screamed “picture of health” more than sounding like you were choking on gravel. Your head pounded, the ache radiating at your temples and along the sides, and your nose felt like cotton was shoved up there. All in all, you felt miserable. All you wanted to do was go back to the queen sized mattress shoved in Dick’s old bedroom and sleep for a thousand years.

But Dick, Bruce, and Tim were all making appearances at a gala to collect intel and you needed to stay awake so you could assist if something happened. What if the gala was under attack? Or what if they needed a quick getaway? Or what if-

The couch dipped as Damian crawled onto the cushion next to you. He settled in comfortably, Alfred the cat resting comfortably in his arms, and blinked up at you with those wide eyes of his. You set your embroidery down and gave him your full attention.

While Dick was your closest friend, companion, and lover, Damian understood you better than anyone aside from Cass. Damian knew what it was like to be trained from a young age. When Dick first brought you to Wayne Manor, bloodied and weak and still as fiercely on guard, Damian was the first person to gain your trust aside from Dick. And if this kid was your boyfriend’s brother, then dammit, he was your little brother too.

“When I first came to live with Father, he sat me down one day and told me that it is one thing to know when to be on guard and ready. But it’s another thing to live your life always on edge waiting for the next attack. Father helped me realize that I was living my life feeling like I was never safe made me sure that I would never be safe. He assured me that he and the family would never let anything happen to me.”

Your mind was cloudy with fatigue and fever, but you nodded slowly as you tried to grasp what he meant. “Okay…?”

Damian turned to face you fully, the little tuxedo cat in his lap snuggling in closer to his owner’s arms. “We would never let anything happen to you or to one another. You can rest.”

You swallowed painfully against your aching throat and offered him a tight smile. “Thank you, Dami. I’m fine.”

He huffed and climbed off the couch. “You’re not fine. I am telling Pennyworth.”

“Don’t!” The exclamation left you so quickly that he looked at you with more concern than before. “He’s busy right now. He doesn’t need to be bothered with a little sniffle. Please don’t tell him. I swear I’m fine.”

He stared at you, doubt written all over his face, and then sighed. “You are more stubborn than Richard. It’s a miracle the two of you get anything done.”

With that, Damian and Alfred the cat exited the room. Silence fell over the leather furniture and aging books once more. You inhaled deeply, fighting against the stabbing pain of your sinuses, and focused on your embroidery once more.

It wasn’t a half hour before the door to the library flew open. Dick strode in, impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. Damian. That little rat.

“I’m fine!” you insisted. Damian peeked out from around the doorframe and you, the adult, stuck your tongue out at him. He merely smirked and disappeared, probably to go find his next victim.

“Richard, I am fine,” you snapped. He ignored your protests and laid the back of his hand against your cheek before doing the same to your forehead. You shuddered at the cool touch of his skin against yours and he immediately stepped back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dick demanded.

“Because I knew you would blow it out of proportion and make a big deal out of nothing,” you retorted.

“You’re burning up. And Damian said your lungs rattled a bit when you took a breath.”

“Damian’s a trained liar.”

“Stop with the bullshit!” His outburst caused you to pause. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. You had been in much worse condition than a little cold.

“I don’t understand what I did wrong,” you said quietly. Therapy with Dinah was helping you express your emotions, as she said. It helped in times like this. Dick’s face crumpled and then he pulled on the mask of assuredness that you were used to seeing. He crouched down so you were face to face rather than him towering over you.

“You don’t have to act like everything is fine, Buttercup. You’re allowed to let your guard down. You’re allowed to get sick.”

“But I can’t,” you blurted out. “If I’m sick and you or one of the others needs me-”

“We have legions of people that can help us,” he interrupted. Dick reached up to gently cup your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You are allowed to rest.”

“My head hurts,” you admitted.

He smiled that crooked grin of his and you shut your eyes, inhaling deeply. He stroked gentle lines across your face and of course he was still there once you opened your eyes once more.

“I’m tired.”

He stood, his hand falling from your cheek and entangling itself with your free hand. You set the embroidery down on the coffee table and stood. Before you could take one step, Dick swept you into his arms and started down the hall towards the bedrooms.

“You realize that I’m going to coddle you until you’re back to normal?”

You tightened your grip on his neck and grinned. “Can we watch Riverdale?”

“I’m going to throw Timmy off of a fucking roof for introducing you to that show.”

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 4

Christmas Eve, and the day of the party.

once again I maintain the idea that lockwood has his tea as a Cameron special (for absolutely no reason, they've just merged into one being in my mind)

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: swearing, family members being mean, lockwood never put his pyjamas back on, I should mention now that they're 18 for plot and ethical reasons, mentions of body image issues, innuendos?

series master list

(image credit to @sxnflowersa_tv on pinterest)

When Y/n woke up the next morning, her first thought was that she was cold.

Her second was that she was in a double bed and not her usual tiny single in Portland Row, and the third was panic at seeing her boss shirtless.

Lockwood's blanket had slipped at some point in the night, and so when she sat up and stretched she was met with the sight of him sleeping soundly in the armchair, his pyjamas folded neatly on the small table next to him. How he wasn't freezing to death she wasn't sure, but then Lockwood had never made sense to her. One minute he was all smiles and charm and then the next he was saying something completely opposite into her ear, and she was left to figure out which version was the real Lockwood.

Today would be difficult, and they had to come to some sort of understanding if they were going to survive the hell that they would soon be entering.

Lockwood didn't look comfortable at all, with his neck at an odd angle and his legs curled up underneath him (he was bound to get pins and needles when he woke up), and Y/n felt the smallest pang of pity before a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

"Are you two awake?" Her mother questioned, likely wanting to know if they wanted tea. Y/n clambered out of bed and leaned against the door.

"Uh, I am," she whispered. "Lock- Anthony's still asleep."

"Right, well do you think he'll want a cup of tea? I'm heading down to make a pot now."

"Oh, yeah. He has it weird though, with sugar and honey."

"I'll pop those on the tray, then, and he can put in what he wants."

"Thanks Mum." She heard her mother shuffle and head down the stairs, knees clicking as she went, and turned back to look at her fake boyfriend. "Fuck," she said, a horrible realisation dawning on her. Lockwood couldn't be in the armchair when her mother brought in the tea, or she'd wonder if they'd had an argument. Walking over, she gave his arm a quick prod.

No response.

She tried again, harder this time, and when he stirred a little she cheered internally. "Lockwood?" she whisper-shouted, giving him a proper shove.

"What? What is it?" He was bolt upright almost immediately, scanning for any signs of danger and reaching for Y/n. "Is everything alright?"

"Uh... yes," she said slowly. "Mum's making tea, and when she brings it in you can't be in the chair or she'll have questions." She stared down at his hand where it was grabbing her pyjama top (an old oversized t-shirt), his knuckles white. "You... you can let go of me now, Lockwood."

"Oh. Right." He retracted his hand, but not before letting it hover in the space between them for a few seconds. He stood up, the blanket falling, and Y/n immediately turned around.

"Why are you naked?!"

"I am not! I got hot in the night so I took my pyjamas off! I still have my pants on, thank you very much!"

"Well put your pyjamas back on!" she shrieked, pressing her hands over her face (despite still having her back to him) and desperately hoping she could delete the image from her brain. She had thought he'd only taken his top off, but since he wore matching pyjamas the pile of clothes on the table had looked like one thing, not two. She could hear him hopping around while he attempted to quickly pull his trousers on, and after a minute or so he cleared his throat.

"Alright, I'm dressed." Y/n turned around slowly, scared that he was joking, and sighed in relief when she realised that he wasn't. "Such a drama queen," he muttered under his breath, clearly not wanting her to hear as he looked to his left with a red face.

"I am not a drama queen, Lockwood. If anybody is the drama queen it's you. Now get in the bed." She pointed at it, glare on her face.

"If you wanted me to sleep with you you could have let me do that last night," he smirked, and she threw a decorative pillow at him.

"Just get in the bed, Lockwood." She went to grab a second pillow when he wriggled his eyebrows at her, and he quickly stopped and pulled back the covers. When he was finally settled she climbed in next to him.

"Y/n."

"What?"

"You should probably come a bit closer." He wasn't wrong, since they were as far away from each other as they could get, but she stubbornly refused to cosy up to him when she didn't need to just yet.

"Hang on." She'd spotted the blanket still crumpled on the floor, and hurried to pick it up just as she heard her mother coming up the stairs. Chucking it over the armchair she rushed back to the bed, pulling the duvet over her just as the door opened.

"Fuck's sake, come here," Lockwood whispered, harshly tugging on her arm and then wrapping his arm around her waist. "Ah, good morning, Emma!"

"Morning! Just got some tea for you here," she put the tray down on Y/n's bedside table and paused for a moment as she took in the two of them in the bed. "How did you sleep? Hopefully you feel rested enough for today?"

"Oh I slept beautifully, thank you." Lockwood beamed up at Emma, and Y/n wondered if she knew that his fingers were stroking the skin of her stomach under her top where it had ridden up.

"I'm glad to hear it! Well, I'll leave you to it!" They both smiled until Y/n's mother was out of the room, but as soon as the door clicked shut behind her they shot away from each other.

"I hope we never have to do that again."

"We'll have to do it tomorrow morning, darling."

"Nobody else is here, you don't need to keep calling me that."

"Ah, yes. Sorry, Schmoopie."

"I hate you. I'm going to poison your tea." She was getting the mugs ready now, adding extra honey to one and pouring in the water over the tea bags.

"And I will happily drink it."

A few minutes later (she'd had to let the tea stew for a bit) she poured in the milk and handed over his mug.

"Did you add in the sugar?"

"Yep."

"And the honey?"

"You watched me do it, Lockwood."

"Right, yes. I did." He was quiet for a moment, staring into the contents of his mug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied, mild shock running through her at the sincerity of his gratitude.

They drank their tea in silence.

~~~

"So, just to recap, there are around fifty people coming over today?"

"Yep," Y/n said through a mouthful of cereal. "All extended family members and close family friends and their families. I've been thinking about it, and as much as it pains me to say it I think... ugh," she scowled into her bowl. "I think you're right abo-"

"Ha! Finally! I got you to say it! About what?"

"If you'd let me finish, you would know, idiot."

"Oh, yes. Sorry."

"I think you're right about needing to do a big speech to everyone all in one go about..." she gestured between the two of them vaguely, "us."

"Ah. Yes, it would save a lot of time, wouldn't it?"

"Hm, it would. And then we only have to remember things once really."

"Remind me again what the story was?" They were sat in the kitchen, the only ones up other than Y/n's mother (who was upstairs getting things ready).

"What was 8 months ago?"

"Why 8 months?" Lockwood frowned over his second mug of tea that morning.

"Because that's what I told Steph last night."

"Oh. Uh, April I think? There was that one job we went on in March, just the two of us. We could stick pretty close to the truth then if we used that as a death scare that made you realise that you couldn't possibly live without me."

"Wasn't the story that you realised you were hopelessly in love with me one day and asked me out, but I refused multiple times until eventually I gave in to get you to shut up?"

"Well, yes. But I just think that- morning, Stephanie." His smile was clearly forced, and Y/n realised with a start that she was beginning to be able to tell which of his smiles were real.

"Morning you two. Hopefully you didn't get too frisky last night after that adorable kiss under the mistletoe!"

"No, we-"

"Well, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Stephanie," Lockwood smirked, and Y/n rolled her eyes at his interruption. Her cousin was lapping it up, and after a few minutes the kitchen was filled with various members of Y/n's family as they all filed in, bleary eyed and reaching for tea and coffee. They would have to figure out their story while they got ready for the party, since they definitely couldn't get details straight with so many people in the room.

"Morning, Squeak," her brother Will murmured as he sat on a stool next to her at the counter. Y/n scoffed at the nickname, but there was nothing resentful behind it. "Sleep alright?"

"Yeah, did you?" He nodded in response as he started shovelling mouthfuls of cereal in, the bowl nearly spilling over with the amount of food in it.

"Lover boy didn't give you too much grief last night, did he?"

"No, he was alright."

"Hey, if you need a break at any point today come and find me, yeah? I'll fend off any inquisitive relatives."

"Thanks, Will." He was only a couple of years older than her, being the third youngest of her brothers, but Will liked to act as though he was the oldest of all of the L/n siblings. In fairness Tom was eleven and Sam and John who were thirty and twenty-eight respectively were rarely home or in contact with her, and she didn't have as much of a bond with them. Olivia was a year younger than Y/n, but since they had shared a room growing up they had fought consistently over the years about completely irrelevant things and barely talked outside of gatherings.

"Anytime. I think me and the boys were gonna take your lover boy away at some point to give him the proper talk, so if you can't find any of us later that'll be why."

"Please stop calling him 'lover boy', Will," she grimaced, not noticing Lockwood come up behind her.

"But I am your lover boy, darling." She whipped her head around to see Lockwood leaning against the counter next to her with a soft smile.

Weird. She'd thought he would be smirking instead.

Will snorted, then tipped his bowl up to drink the last of the milk. "You two," he said after he'd finished, "are quite possibly the most sickening thing I have ever seen."

~~~

"Is a suit too much, do you think?"

"Maybe leave the tie," Y/n called out from the bathroom where she was getting changed. She had long since pulled on the burgundy dress, but not knowing when Lockwood would be in a state where she could walk out meant that she had spent the last five minutes staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was absolutely certain that multiple people would make comments about her figure, or compare her to Stephanie, or both, and she was dreading leaving the bathroom. Then there would be the comments about her job, and how being an agent was a terrible choice and she should have gone into full-time education instead.

"Y/n? You can come out when you're ready."

She sighed shakily, taking one last look at herself in the mirror above the sink before unlocking the door and stepping out.

Lockwood was in one of his usual suits, pink socks poking out from under his trousers, and he was just sorting out his cuffs when he looked up and froze. When he still didn't say anything Y/n's mind started racing ahead to all the different possibilities.

"I look awful, don't I? I'll get my jeans and jumper and get changed, give me a minute."

"No!" Lockwood shouted, his arms outstretched. He hesitated, then spoke again, and his voice was back to how it sounded when he was being an arse. "No, don't do that, just... you look fine like that and we'll be late if you get changed now."

"Oh. Alright." She frowned, wrapping her arms around her midriff as she inspected Lockwood's outfit. "Wait, don't move," she called out when he went to move. Y/n walked over to him, then reached up to straighten out his collar. It had been sticking up, so she smoothed her hands over it to right it, letting them linger on his chest afterwards. He wasn't moving, and she was quite sure that he wasn't breathing either, and when she looked up at him she realised that she was holding her breath too.

They hadn't been this close since they kissed the night before, and then they'd had an audience.

Now it was just the two of them, alone in the room.

"Y/n?" Lockwood asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Yeah?" Had his face moved closer? Suddenly she could make out the individual colours in his eyes and was able to count the freckles on his cheeks. He licked his lips, tilting his head slightly to brush his nose against hers, and she felt her eyes fluttering closed.

"Are you two nearly ready? Emma needs help getting food and things ready for the guests!" A loud knock accompanied the shrill voice of Y/n's Aunt Linda, and the pair of them sprang apart, clearing their throats and avoiding eye contact. Y/n marched over to the door and wrenched it open, plastering a smile on her warm face.

"We're ready! Anthony? You coming?"

"Yeah, just... I'll be down in a minute, darling. I just need to use the loo." He flashed the two women a smile, then disappeared into the en-suite. Y/n could have killed him for leaving her alone, but maybe that was for the best given what had just happened.

"Come on then," Linda said, and ushered her downstairs.

~~~

Everyone was busy doing something, and everything was in complete chaos.

"Oh, that can go over there. Tom, don't put that in your mouth, please. No, over there, Ben. Tom! Not in your mouth! You're eleven, this shouldn't be difficult! Boys, please stop mucking about and do something useful! Over there- oh for god's sake, give it here!" Y/n's mother snatched a plate of food away from her husband, rushing between the kitchen and the dining room that was through the open double doors off to the side. The whole area would be brimming with guests in less than thirty minutes, and things were still being put out. "Oh, you're here, that's perfect. Where's Anthony? Never mind, no time. Here, you can put this next to the thingy there!" Luckily Y/n had grown up with her mother's distracted way of talking and knew exactly what she meant, taking the opportunity to run away from Linda.

The next ten minutes followed the same pattern of being handed things and told to put them in various spots on the table, and Lockwood was nowhere to be seen for any of it. Y/n was starting to worry that he'd flushed his skinny beanpole of a frame down the toilet.

"Where's your boyfriend, Y/n?" Stephanie asked, sidling up in a stunning silver dress that looked as though it had been painted on her.

"In the toilet. Are you gonna help, Steph?"

"Oh, you're... wearing that again?" she asked, ignoring Y/n's tired request for help. "Didn't you wear that last year? You've put on a bit of weight since then, haven't you!" She let out a laugh, and Y/n brought her arms around her stomach self-consciously for the second time since putting on the dress. Maybe she should have ignored Lockwood and got changed anyway. At least then when people complained about her outfit she'd be more comfortable in her own body. "Well, personally I think you should get it let out a little, Y/n. You do look awfully-"

"Beautiful?" a voice questioned from Y/n's right, and after a second someone else's arms were around her waist, pulling her back against a warm chest. "She does look stunning, doesn't she?"

"Anthony," Y/n breathed when he spun her around to face him, his hands holding hers tightly. He was smiling one of those private smiles reserved for the people he cared about, small and gentle, and her heart jumped in her chest.

"I... I suppose," Stephanie said, sounding confused. It was so typical of her to not think of her cousin as anything other than a way to make herself look better. Y/n barely noticed when her cousin drifted off, or when her brother picked up his camera and took a photo of the two of them framed by the lights that had been draped over the doorframe, since all she could focus on was the feel of her hands being held by Lockwood and the way he was looking at her.

"Aww, aren't they just adorable!" Y/n's grandmother Jean said loudly, catching the attention of everybody nearby. Apparently half of the guests had arrived on time (of course the one time that happened was the time she had to pull off a huge fake dating stunt), because the kitchen and dining room were packed with people. Murmurs of assent travelled around, and Y/n could hear a few people questioning who the tall young man next to her was, and suddenly her heart was plummeting rather than jumping, and she felt sick.

"Hey," Lockwood whispered, still smiling at her. "We can do this, alright? It's only today and most of tomorrow, and then we're back in London. It's really not that long when you think about it."

He needed to stop being nice to her, because it was freaking her out.

One minute he was saying she looked fine and not seeming to care much about what she looked like, and the next he was declaring that she was beautiful and stunning with such sincerity that she couldn't help but think it was real.

"So this is the boyfriend Linda told us about, huh?" one guest asked.

"Um... yes," Y/n replied, moving closer to Lockwood and curling into his side, trying not to look too stiff and petrified when his arm came around her side. "This is Anthony." She gestured up at him, feeling increasingly uncomfortable about the fact that around thirty people all had their eyes on her, and any one of them could work out that this relationship was a farce and completely destroy any good reputation that she had amongst her family.

"How did it all start? Go on, give us the story!" somebody called out.

"Yeah, we all want to know!" exclaimed a different voice. "Y/n/n's never had a boyfriend before!"

Y/n shared a glance with Lockwood, and he opened his mouth to speak.

part 5

Tag list (I think this is everyone): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locklyebrainrot, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

[obxone]

Marmoris (Chapter One)

Edited-ish. ~1.5k words

Master Page

My first great love was the ocean. Deep and dark, endless, with secrets and buried treasures. My second great love was like the ocean. Deep and dark, endless, with secrets and buried treasures.

“Dad?” You call as you let yourself back into the house. “Rose?” No one answers, so you try again as you enter the kitchen.

“Out here!” Rose’s voice filters in from the cracked patio door.

They are right where you think they are. A mojito is in Rose’s hand, and she is taking a generous sip while watching Wheezie practice her cartwheels in the grass not far away.

“Everything okay, Honey?” Your dad asks, sitting up straighter in the large wicker chair.

“Yeah,” you nod, hand running through your hair nervously. “I have news…”

Rose tips her head as she drags her gaze down the length of you. You ignore her, already aware that she is thinking of the worst thing possible that you could have done today.

“I got a job.”

“That’s great, Sweetie!” Ward grins while getting to his feet and pulling you into a hug. You hug him back as he plants a kiss on your temple. “You know you don’t have to, right? You are only 16.”

“I wanted to. I think it would be a good experience and give me something to do outside of the normal summer routine.” You scrunch your nose at the thought of doing what you do every summer, your gaze flickering to Rose, who is back in her own world.

“Where at?” He asks, sitting in his seat again.

“The Wreck.”

Rose's chin jerks, and she scrutinizes you again. “The Wreck?”

“Yes…” You fade out, aware of her opinion on the Carrera family. Rose did not like that Mr. Carrera had been a pogue before marrying into the Figure 8 side of the island. “I start tomorrow.”

“That is great,” your father reiterates. His sharp eyes are on his wife as she stirs her drink. The clear displeasure painted across her face. “Maybe Rafe will get in line now.”

“What about Rafe?” Your brother steps outside at the mention of his name.

“Your sister got a job,” Rose says, her tone biting as she practically glares at him.

You can feel Rafe’s gaze burning holes into the side of your head, and you try to ignore it but fail and let your eyes shift to meet his. He stares at you, his lips slightly parted in shock.

“Why?” He asks.

“I don’t know, Rafe,” Ward muses, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at him. The disapproving father mask is on his face. “Maybe she wants to be a productive member of this family.”

“Dad,” you warn, but he ignores you. His pointed gaze glued to your brother. He just nods, hands shoving into the pockets of his khaki shorts before he turns on his heels and goes back inside. You huff, muttering great under your breath.

“Come cartwheel with me, y/n!” Wheezie calls.

“Maybe later,” you call back before going into the house. You spot Rafe heading for the front door, aware that he will likely be going to get enough coke to put down an elephant in his upset. “Rafe!” You jog after him. You are the only one that knows about his drug use, and it had been an accident to learn about it in the first place. A misplaced baggie and too much rambling from Kelce had

He glances back over his shoulder but shakes his head, turning back for the door. The sting of his dismissal settles in your chest, but you shove it to the side and hurry after him.

“Please!” You catch him and grab his forearm. “I’m sorry, that was not my intention. Dad is a jerk for saying that.”

He huffs, staring at you. His features softened at your worried expression. He knows what you are worried about at the moment. His need for coke to stave off the sinking disappointment in failing your father. “Forget it.”

“No, it’s fucked up. We both know it.”

He nods, hand dragging over his mouth. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

You study him before offering a halfhearted smile. “Are you leaving?”

“Golf with Top.”

“Drop me at Scarlet’s? Sarah is already there.”

“You can’t drive yourself?"

You shrug, patting his chest. “I want to spend time with my big brother. Besides, we both know I’m your favorite, and you’ll do anything for me.”

“The chances of you staying my favorite shrink the older and smarter you get.”

You mock laughter while grabbing your small purse. “Lies.”

He laughs, leading the way out to the truck. You climb into the passenger seat and immediately plug your phone into Apple Carplay before he can. He groans after climbing in when your favorite playlist begins to spill from the speakers.

“Calm down, it’s just for two songs max.”

He huffs but lets you slide by with it as he heads down the driveway.

After Rafe drops you off, you find Scarlet and Sarah lounging by the pool, along with Blair and Eleanora.

“There she is!” Blair grins at you once you are within her sights. “The missing Cameron twin.”

“Thank you for waiting for me,” you tease, spotting a few empty drinks.

“This one is for you,” Sarah hands you a crystal tumbler with a pinkish orange cocktail inside. The ice is already mostly melted, and condensation coats the outside of the glass, but you take it with a bright smile. A hefty sip has you humming in delight at the sweet taste.

“Careful, the alcohol is masked, but potent enough that you’ll have two and be on your ass,” El jokes, and you quirk an eyebrow at her. Her chin jerks to Blair, who lifts her leg out of the water to show a decent sized bruise forming on the back of her thigh.

“Damn!” You whistle and collapse into the lounger with Sarah. She groans dramatically but shifts to allow you room. “I got a job,” you whisper to her after another sip.

She practically chokes on her cocktail, and you giggle.

“Why?”

You shrug. “Change of pace. As much as I love our girl time, I don’t want to do this all summer.”

“At the clubhouse?” She stirs her straw around, mixing the drink more. She knows your worries about the kook life. It keeps you up most nights, and you always find your way into her bed. The twin bond keeps you in better spirits when you are around one another.

“The Wreck.”

Her eyebrows raise, and you shrug.

“It is good pay, decent tips, and gives me a chance to get away from the kooks.”

She nods, aware that your voice is low. A sister only conversation.

“I start tomorrow,” you offer.

“As long as you are happy, right?”

You nod.

“What did Ward say?”

“He thinks it’s great. Rose was not happy,” you giggle at the last part, and she grins. The evil stepmother role is not what you would label Rose as, but she is not a favorite amongst you and your siblings in the least.

“Here’s to pissing off Rose.” She cheers her glass against yours before you both take a drink.

“Hey, y/n!” Scarlet calls for you, and you turn your head to look at her as she sits on the edge of the pool. Her feet are in the water. “Kelce asked about you today.”

You scrunch your nose up, looking away from her as the others ooh, including your sister, who you elbow roughly.

“Ouch!”

“Serves you right,” you mutter before climbing out of the lounger. You shed your sundress to reveal your bikini before you join Scarlet at the edge of the pool.

El stares at you, and you do not miss the jealousy swimming in her green eyes. She had a thing for Kelce. No one else seems to notice, but you. She has carried a torch for him for nearly two years now.

“I’m not interested in Kelce, and he knows it,” you supply, a soft smile in her direction. “Besides, we would not be good a fit.”

“I think you would.” Scarlet nudges your shoulder with hers.

You shake your head. “No. He is too clingy, and I refuse to date one of my brother’s best friends. Rafe and I made a pact about it anyways.”

“What pact?” Sarah sits up.

You shrug, kicking a splash of water up. “It was last year when Rafe noticed Kelce’s staring. He made me promise not to date any of his friends, and I told him it would not be an issue.”

“Why didn’t he do that for me?” Sarah asks, bottom lip poking out a little.

You smile and turn your gaze to hers instead of the pool. “Because Topper and you were already practically dating.”

She rolls her eyes and sits back in the lounger. “I wouldn’t have listened to him anyways.”

“And that is reason number two.” You joke before taking a sip of your cocktail.

(Chapter Two)

[luv-kakashi]

One of us is dead

chapter two | chapter four

chapter three - konoha

"Aren't you guys supposed to be guarding the gates? I can't believe we're letting Konoha's biggest sleazebags guard our village, you know," a red-haired kunoichi retorted as she whacked the two gatekeepers awake.

"Oh good morning to you too Kushina. Besides, it's not like anyone's attacking the village or anything," one of the guards mumbled as he slowly raised his head, still half-dazed from his sleep.

"Oh sorry, it's not like the Third Shinobi War is happening right now, you know. Get it together! I'm going to scout the surrounding area and you two had better be awake by the time I'm finished!"

"I'm sure Minato will be back soon Kushina, and congrats on the Jounin promotion!"

Kushina left the two deadweights as she went for her normal morning. Her morning usually consisted of the same old; scout the surrounding area and report back to the hokage. 

Today had been no different until she reached the west gate.

Kushina watched as a girl collapsed in front of her, causing her to pull out a kunai, gripping it tightly before cautiously stepping towards the child. She knelt down and brushed long strands of red hair away from her face before inspecting her worn out, fatigued state. Dirt and sweat smeared across her skin and many shades of purple and blue decorated her neck, underneath her zipped-up jacket. The kunoichi turned her over to notice the child was clinging to a scroll, tightly wrapped against her chest with her bruised, bloody, blackened arms.

She couldn't help but bite the inside of her mouth at the state of girl, no older than her partners students, grasp onto the slightest bit of life left in her. Carefully picking her up, Kushina cradled the child to her chest and took off to the leaf's hospital.

The sunlight poured into the room, cascading through the curtains as it filled to room with its warmth. I slowly reached my hand out, hoping to feel anything that would indicate where I was.

Crisp sheets hugged my body as I laid in a bed full of soft feathers. It was soothing to say the least. 

But, where am I? The last thing I remember is running straight to the Land of fire. Had the masked man taken me away?

I jolted up out of the bed, panicking at the foreign hospitality I had been offered. 

Holy shit, where am I?

"Oh, good morning. Hey, hey, easy there. You have some nasty injuries, be careful" said a gentle voice from the corner of the room.

I turned to meet the voice and I was greeted by the prettiest kunoichi I had ever seen. Long locks of red hair cascaded past her shoulders as her amethyst eyes shone in the sunlight. 

"I'm Kushina Uzumaki, I found you out cold by the gates. Could you tell me a bit about yourself and why your here?"

An Uzumaki. I didn't think I'd run into a member of my clan so soon. 

Longingly, I stared at her as I took in everything I had just learnt. I hastily shoved my gaze onto my hands as I fiddled with my fingers.

I had to make up a good story-a believable one at that- explaining why I suddenly turned up here. 

It's not like I can just say 'Oh hey yes I'm running away from a bounty-hunting organisation who will kill me on sight. Oh, wait I forgot to mention that a masked man has blackmail material on me and told me to spy the village.'

I'm certain that these Konoha nin will look intently into any information I provide leaving no room for anything but the absolute truth.

"Whatever you do, do not reveal your identity"

"Um, I'm Y/N Uzumaki and my papa told me to run here if anything happened to him or the village." I muttered keeping my gaze stuck to fingers. 

If I were to make this somewhat credible, I'd have to start the water works real fast.

"My village. It was destroyed down many years ago, but then we moved closer to the Village Hidden in the Mist, but then I was taken away from my family!"

Hopefully this will lead to a dead-end if they decide to investigate my past. 

"Hey its okay you’re safe now Y/N," Kushina said as she ran to the side of my bed. My eyes burned as I forced them open and I sat there and sobbed. 

She whispered ever so gently as she coiled her arms around my fragile frame. She patted me on my head and smoothed out my tangled hair. 

The warmth and compassion she held me in felt comforting to say the least. But I didn't deserve an ounce of her love. I'm merely here acting as a pawn just so I find some way to survive in this hopeless world. I selfishly clung to her embrace but quickly retracted myself from her arms.

Wait. Where did the scroll go? Oh, for the love of Kami, I can't get caught. This is my only way to a brief freedom. I immediately started patting my body down hysterically but stopped after hearing a soft raspy chuckle come from the door.

"Looking for this?" a man clad in a long white robe says before handing the scroll back to me, "We found you clinging to this scroll for dear life. Can you tell us a bit about what happened and the scroll you bought with you?"

The Hokage. He must be the Hokage. 

"I was taken from my family and they kept me hostage for so long. I don't remember much from my captivity. But all I have is that scroll which my papa gave me. My parents, they might still be alive! I have to find them!"

"All in due time, you'll need to get strong first! That's why I've made arrangements for you to stay here in Konoha and you could join the academy if you would like. The medics have tended to your injuries and you're free to leave today. Kushina will see you to your new home."

"Thank you for letting me stay Lord third." I said as I bowed my head before he made his way out of the hospital room.

"Come, I'll show you to your new home."

Guilt slowly started creeping up on me as I walked down the streets of Konoha. I can't allow myself to get attached nor get swayed from my initial goal. 

Get the information for the masked man and leave as soon as possible. I won't allow myself to soften up to this village, it'll make saying goodbye easier if I don't. 

My thoughts were swayed as soft fingers interlaced mine.

"I don't want you getting lost in the crowd and besides you keep sighing, you know." Kushina said as we slowly parted from the morning crowd and onto a side street, 

"I promise you that we'll find your family in no time. We're Uzumaki's, that means your family is my family, you know! So cheer up! A sad look doesn't suit your cute face Y/N, you know!"

"Thank you, Kushina-san." I replied. 

Her words were wasted on me. Going to such lengths to avoid my true identity from being found. Lying to the very people who just saved me, forming fake bonds with those willing to offer me a home. 

It all left a sour taste in my mouth.  

"I'm sorry I wont be able to check up on you tomorrow, I have a mission early morning. But remember, you start at the academy tomorrow, so make sure to get there on time and to sleep well, you know!" Kushina said as she ruffled my hair, "If you need anything, just ask me, I live down the street there in that house."

"Thank you, Kushina-san. Have a good day." I said before making my way into my new apartment. It was furnished with basic necessities but that didn't matter.

After checking no one was in sight, I climbed out of the apartment window and jumped onto the street and sneaked out of the village with ease, considering the two jonin guarding the gates were fast asleep.

I found an empty area, secluded by the trees. Surely whatever is in this scroll can't kill me, the masked man seemed determined to get me to Konoha. 

I pulled the scroll out from my pocket, and braced myself as I flowed my chakra through the scroll.

"Blood manipulation: blood edge."

The scroll ripped open, and my vision was blurred by a POOF!

"Ah so you're finally here then," a voice emerged from the smoke.

My vision cleared up and Zetsu materialised in front of my eyes.

"Oh its you. What do you want?"

"Leader-sama wants you to keep an eye out on the nine tails jinchuriki, Kushina Uzumaki. The next time I see you, I expect a report Y/N chan. Or should I say Kunoichi Thirteen?"

"Where is Sumire, Zetsu?" 

"Patience is a virtue Y/N chan, it wouldn't kill to have some," Zetsu chuckled, "Besides she's living in a hidden cabin 40km north-west from here." 

"I hope you trip and break all your branches Zetsu." I spat, before turning my back to him as I made my towards Sumire. 

"Don't kill the messenger Y/N chan!" he said before seeping back into the earth, "Say hi to Sumire chan for me!" 

The way he seeps into the earth always sends a shiver down my spine, like watching something unnatural and unsettling disappear into the shadows. Even after he's gone, the creeping unease he leaves behind lingers in the air. I turn in the direction of Sumire and run with no thought but one; Sumire.

The house stands in eerie silence, a derelict relic of a forgotten past. The roof sags in the middle, with the odd tile missing or shattered, exposing the underlays and rafters. Windows that were perhaps clear and welcoming are now covered in grime. Vines and weeds claim their territory around the rotting wood, choking the paint underneath. 

Inside the air is thick with the scent of damp wood, the floorboards creak with every step and cobwebs drape the abandoned furniture.

Yet the suffocating air and the fading wallpaper fade away in the warmth of her embrace. 

"I'm home," I whispered, entering the dimly lit house. 

"Welcome back Y/N. It took you long enough to find me." Sumire said as she wheeled out of the kitchen to the entry way where I stood. 

"Sorry, I got caught up in some business. I missed you Sumire," I whispered as I kneeled to her so she could do my favourite thing ever. Play with my hair. 

Sumire hasn't always been like this. She hasn't been able to walk since I was in the academy. 

"I missed you too Y/N. Does that mean you will stay here with me?"

"I'm sorry Sumire, I have something to do here in Konoha, but I promise after I'm done we can leave like we always dreamed of." 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And with that, the Uzumaki siblings have been reunited.

However, much still hangs in the air as confusion clouds Y/N's thoughts. Just how did Sumire end up in Konoha? It all seems so convenient that the masked man desperately needed Y/N to infiltrate Konoha, where she finds her sister.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always you can find this fanfiction on wattpad (if you prefer wattpad formatting). Let me know what you think so far. Is it interesting? I'd love to hear from you dearest reader.

Loving you always,

Suri <3

[angels17324]

False Alarm part 2

A/N: So it's been two years since the original, and I now have a new true story that happened to me at work.

I wish these things would stop happening at work but I won't get mad about seeing cute firefighters (And yes the FD actually had to come in this incident)

This is a part 2 but can be read as a standalone Summary: An unexpected reunion and several meddling coworkers Evan 'Buck' Buckley x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

For anyone who would like to read part 1:

False Alarm Masterlist

(Y/n) had recently started a new job in a new facility and everything was perfect; they got the hours they wanted, better pay, and it was closer to home. There was just one problem it was down the street from the 118 which meant Buck... They had broken up two years before. The rest of the 118 who had also become like a family to them always reached out to check on them.

(Y/n) had been working at this facility for 5 months and had managed to never have a run-in with Buck yet, however, they had seen the other members mostly Chim and Hen. They remembered the day that they had been in a room for a resident they were transporting. If the duo recognized them under the mask, they did not mention it, but (Y/n) certainly recognized the two familiar paramedics.

And they knew Buck and the rest of the 118 had been here a number of times. (Y/n) just was lucky in their opinion... well maybe not the day they hid behind the food cart... but in their defense, they didn't know the 118 was gonna be there! Was it maybe a bit childish to be hiding from their ex yes... but they just weren't ready to face him yet.

(Y/n) had been working a few night shifts again to help out. They had just sat with their coworkers at the nurses' station, chatting and making jokes to pass the time. (Y/n) yawned as they had only agreed to work that night to help their friend and the dark circles made it obvious they hadn't been sleeping well.

“I'm so happy I have almost a week off before I have to come back,” (Y/n) stretched a bit to loosen some of their joints from having sat around for so long.

“Lucky! I only have two days,” Ally exclaimed. Ally and (Y/n) had known each other for over a year they met at another facility and transferred together.

"We should do rounds soon," (Y/n) said glancing at the clock and noting they'd take their break as soon as rounds finished. Everything had been uneventful. "I'm also going to check downstairs too," "No one is down there," Ally raised her brow. "I know it's my other assignment," They said holding up some papers every 30 minutes they had to check the building since they were putting in a new fire suppression system which meant the current one was down as they added the new one. It also meant that the system wouldn't dial 911 for them.

"Oh," Ally nodded, "Have fun in the haunted basement," she grinned. (Y/n) shoved her lightly before standing up, "Go check on your patients," while walking to do the same in their hall.

After returning from their break everything was fine and they were now counting down the last few hours until they could go home and sleep for a week. Resting their head on their hand, that's when they heard it. The system was ringing but it wasn't the normal sound.

The nurse and both CNAs jumped up. (Y/n) ran to the fire panel to see what it said, and all that read was 'system failure'

"I just walked the building everything was fine." (Y/n) looked back at their nurse Eric.

"You call 911, tell them we're not sure and the systems are down, I'll make some calls too." He said pulling out his phone and walking away.

(Y/n) nodded and started to call while Ally went to check on residents again with (Y/n) following, while they called in case they needed to start an evacuation.

"911, what's your emergency," They heard Maddie's familiar voice which helped calm their nerves a bit.

At the 118 they'd just received the call, and everyone was gearing up to head down. they didn't know what they were walking into as the caller had told dispatch the suppression system wasn't working either.

Buck noticed how jittery Chim and Hen seemed to get when they heard the address.

"What's up with you guys we've gone on calls like this before," He looked at them. "Well... Uhm..." Chim started. "(Y/n) works there," Hen said. "What since when?" Buck said and he was now growing nervous. it wasn't a long drive but it was now too long for him. "About 5 months," Bobby chimed in causing the four in the back to turn to him. "I saw them one morning when we were there for another call," "So they work days then," "Not exactly," Eddie said, "Said they work rotating shifts," "Has everyone been talking to (Y/n) except me?" Buck looked at his team, their breakup hadn't really been because either of them wanted to but almost because they had to, with both their schedules they never saw each other anymore. So they had both decided one day it would be better to call it quits.

The drive felt like hours, but it was less than 5 minutes before they were in front of the building. They didn't see any smoke or anything else to raise concern for yet.

That's when Buck saw them at the front door, they were wearing their favorite scrubs and propping the door open. They still looked as beautiful as the last time Buck had seen them. But now wasn't the time for that. Bobby walked up in his turnout gear so they were prepared in case they found anything. "Bobby, we've managed to make it stop beeping for a while and we haven't found anything yet. but it ke-" They were cut off at the beeping from the panels resumed. "-eps coming back on and no one knows how to shut it off."

Buck noticed they looked anywhere but at him as Bobby and the others walked in to look around. But Buck couldn't stop staring at them. They walked over to their coworker and huddled together talking quietly.

"Alright, someone needs to check all the panels," Bobby said. "I'll do it," Buck volunteered.

"(Y/n) knows where they all are!" Ally said a bit loudly.

"Alright you two go check them all out then we will stay here," Hen happily pushed Buck in the direction of (Y/n).

The two were quiet as they checked the two panels upstairs before they lead him to the ones downstairs.

"So..." Buck started, "You work here now...?"

"I do," They said barely above a whisper.

"I haven't seen you when we've been here on any calls..."

"We probably just missed each other but why would want to see me..." They leaned against the desk as Buck started to check the panel seeing the same error code as the rest.

"To check on you make sure you're okay, and you know... not setting off fire alarms," He tried to tease.

"Neither times were my fault Buck and you know it," They rolled their eyes.

Buck had to admit he missed them, their break up had been mostly amicable. They had only broken up because of their time commitments to other parts of their lives, not because they wanted to. It still broke both of them more than either is willing to admit.

"Sure, if you say so," He chuckled a bit. They shook their head at Buck's jokes, "It's definitely not to see us in uniform again right?"

"Trust me, I've seen plenty of men in uniforms," they hit his shoulder lightly.

"Glad to see you can still do it,"

"What?

"Have fun and joke around me," he smiled softly.

"Buck,"

"So, got anybody..."

"We're gonna play 20 questions now?" They raised their brow and looked at him.

"No, I'm just curious," Buck admitted.

They shook their head again and led him to the last panel, "No," they stated simply. "You?"

"Nothing that's stuck..." He rubbed his neck and looked at the panel they nodded slowly. "Still nothing... let's head back up,"

When they rejoined the group Eddie and Chim were sitting on some chairs near Bobby and Hen. Chim had the manual for the system in his hand, they didn't remember seeing it the last time they were up there.

"Nothing," Bobby said.

Eric walked over after he got off the phone again, and pressed a few buttons shutting the system completely off.

"Hallelujah!" Ally shouted raising her arms up.

"Thank god my ears were starting to hurt," (Y/n) said.

After Eric explained to Bobby what he had been told the 118 started to pack up their gear to go. Buck glanced back at (Y/n) and started to walk out with the others.

Hen turned to him, "I heard she has the next week off, and you have a few days off after today too,"

"Okay..." Buck said not understanding.

"We all know you still like them, Buck we could see it in your eyes," Eddie looked at him.

"We broke up for a reason,"

"It wasn't a good one," Chim chimed in.

"Go ask her to get breakfast with you," Bobby looked at him.

"Not you too Bobby,"

"Look up there they're probably telling her to do the same thing," Hen pointed out both Ally and Eric talking to (Y/n) and pointing out to them.

"... We've gotta go," the other members groaned a bit at Buck but climbed back into the truck to head back. As soon as he sat down Buck pulled out his phone

Inside (Y/n) was indeed having the same conversation.

"He asked if you were dating anyone it must mean he still likes you," Ally grabbed her coworker's shoulders and tried shaking some sense into them.

"Look, love is hard and you two can still make it work," Eric said trying to impart some wisdom to the younger employee.

"It's too late now they're gone," (Y/n) nodded their head outside.

"You're ridiculous!" Ally huffed, and all three returned to the nurse's station, when (Y/n) heard their phone chime.

Buck: Wanna grab a bite after your shift and catch up?

They smiled a bit and sent him a yes before returning to work.

[faofinn]

6. Sick and Injured

His body was on fire, sirens and shouts and flashes of bright light overwhelming him. Everything merging into just too much. He couldn't do it, couldn't hold on, so he let go, the sudden snap of relief just welcome blackness. There was no fight against whatever was holding him down, forcing each breath down his throat. He was dying, he was sure of it, and he was just so exhausted. It wasn't giving up. or giving in, it would just be a rest, just a break. 

"Everyone ready? Yeah, Okay. This is Finn, he's 22 and has quite the extensive medical history. He was found by a member of the public on the side of the road, confused and combative. When we arrived, he was in and out but very agitated. Apparently witnessed falling over a few times, initially query intox, but has a medic-alert bracelet on his backpack - He's known epileptic from a TBI, with EDS, POTS, chronic pain, fatigue and a few other mental health conditions. 

"When he's fallen, he seems to have hit his head multiple times, he's got two reasonable sized lacs to the left side of his head, and one across his eyebrow. No boggy masses, but cheekbone feels deformed. Obvious dislocation, possible break to left shoulder / collar bone, looks pretty unstable at the minute.

"He is cannulated and tolerating an OP at the moment. He had a possible 30 second seizure as we moved to the ambulance, and he's gone a lot more vacant in the last three minutes or so.

"He's got a temp of 38.6, tachy at 126, hypotensive 98/76. bm of 6.2. Sats have been 92 on air, came up to 96 on 15L. Reduced air entry globally, nothing being shifted on the right base, sounds very congested and crackly there. We've got NOK details from his alert card, so can give them a call while you guys get him sorted, if there's nothing else you need from us?"

When Sheila had called Fao in the middle of the night to say his brother had disappeared, he had to admit it hadn’t quite been what he’d expected. He’d known Finn was struggling with a chest infection of some description, and they’d been worried about seizures, and so he expected the call to be from his mum saying they’d had to go to A&E. 

He’d been sitting up with a cup of tea, just in case Finn turned up at his place, when his phone rang again, showing as No Caller ID. He snatched it up, immediately hitting answer. 

“Hello?”

"Hi, is that, uh, Faolan?"

He winced. “Yeah, that’s me.”

"In just ringing about your brother, a Finn Daniels?"

He sighed. “What’s happened?”

"He's been brought into the ED, he's…he's quite unwell at the moment. It might be best if you were able to come in?"

“Has he had a seizure?” Fao asked, glad he was already dressed. “I’m on my way in.”

"I think it's best if we explain in person."

Oh, fuck. That didn’t bode well, and Fao felt a cold fear run through him. “George’s? I’ll be there in ten.”

"Yeah. Did you want to let the family know? Or would you rather I called them?"

“I’ll call them.”

"Thank you."

“Thanks for calling me.” Fao murmured. 

"I'm sorry it's not good news. Be safe getting in."

“Mm, thanks.” Fao said softly, before he put the phone down. He drained his mug, shoved his shoes on and grabbed his stuff before he woke Ollie to tell him he was going and he didn’t know when he’d be back. The drive to hospital was quick, Fao definitely not speeding. He called Sheila on the way, explaining what little knew, and soon he’d found somewhere to park and rushed into the hospital. 

Finn had continued to swing between agitated and not, the staff only growing more concerned. He'd been sedated slightly, mainly just to get him through CT, but they'd still yet to get a coherent response from him. Even the mention of Fao coming to see him didn’t seem to break through, Finn staring blankly through them. 

When Fao finally got to the reception desk, he felt like he was going to lose his mind. He hated not knowing anything, whoever he’d spoken to on the phone so vague and unhelpful. Yes, he appreciated things were best discussed in person, but an idea was helpful. He didn’t even know if this was a seizure, though with what Sheila had told him it was somewhat likely. 

They took him through, but he wasn’t allowed straight into resus, instead shown the relatives room to wait. He paced up and down like a caged tiger, his hair a mess from how many times he’d run his fingers through it, though it fell in his face all the same. 

There was a sharp knock on the door, all too clinical and harsh for the situation. "Hi, is it Fao?"

Fao stopped pacing. “Yeah. What’s going on? Nobody’s told me anything.”

"Sorry about that, do you want to have a seat?"

“Is he alive?” Fao barely dared to ask the question. 

They softened, giving him a small smile. "He is, he's currently in our resus bit. He's very not well at the minute, and we're waiting to get him stable enough to take up to ICU."

That wasn’t unusual for Finn, as awful as that was. His shoulders slumped with relief that his brother was still alive, and he scanned the doctor’s face to try and work out what was going on. “Was it a seizure? He’s had an infection brewing and that always sets him off, are we talking status? If you’re waiting on ICU I’m assuming he’s been tubed? Have you spoken with his consultant? I think he was looking at trying to arrange an admission anyway.”

"We're not entirely sure what's been going on. He was picked up at the roadside, by the sounds of it he'd fallen quite a few times. He's got some pretty significant head injuries at the moment. We've not intubated him yet, no, but it's looking likely that's the way it's heading. He's currently just about managing with some extra support, but it's…he's got a significant chest infection, pneumonia, and we're not sure if the falls he's had has made it worse, but his lungs aren't working as they should be." He sighed. "We've not been able to really have a chat with him at all, he's been very agitated and quite combative, so we've sedated him a little bit, for his safety. He currently has a little piece of plastic in his mouth, just to help him keep his airways open. It's not the most comfortable for him, but he needs it with the medications and the stuff going on."

Evidently this was going to be a long conversation, and Fao was sore from the sheer amount of pacing he’d been doing. He sat down, nodding. “Alright. I got a call off my mum about an hour ago saying he’d gone missing and was he at mine.” He murmured. “Has he had a CT for the head injuries? He can be really agitated and combative especially when he’s feeling overwhelmed. He doesn’t like to be touched, he doesn’t like a lot of people around him, especially after a seizure. I’m happy to give you any social or medical history that would help you out. He really hates things on his face, it’s a struggle to keep oxygen on him when he’s postictal, he’s a nightmare. He doesn’t always tolerate the OP well as he comes around so you’re best keeping him sedated a bit. He’s well known to ICU, his seizures unfortunately often lead to him in status and needing to be intubated.” He wasn’t trying to tell this doctor how to do their job, but it was hard when this was his little brother. 

"That's very helpful to know, thank you." They said, and meant it. "We're just currently waiting on the CT report, so we'll be able to give you a bit more insight then. Unfortunately his agitation has been pretty constant, even when left alone. And, with the infection, he needs to be on the oxygen, he's not managing without it at the moment."

“Yeah, I appreciate that.” Fao said. “He’s epileptic from a tbi as a ten year old, he always really struggles with his seizures when he picks up infections, and he’s been through some difficult personal stress in the last six months or so as well as some meds changes which have also made his seizures more difficult to control.”

"Of course. You can come and sit with him, if you'd like? I will warn you he does have quite a few injuries, he might not look quite like himself. 

“Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure. I was with him when he had his initial TBI.” Fao said, standing up. “I’d like to see him.”

"I can't imagine how difficult that must have been."

“Makes Afghanistan look like a walk in the park.”

"Did you serve?"

He nodded. “Four tours, medical corps.”

"Wow, that's a lot."

“Yeah. Can I see my brother now?”

"Of course. Can i get you a cup of tea? Coffee?"

“I’m fine, thanks.” 

"Alright, just let me know. I'll let you though."

“Thanks.” Fao said, following him through into Resus. It was busy as always, though it was familiar to him now. His eyes flicked over to the bays, trying to find his brother’s. He hated this, being on the back foot with him. As much as moving out had been so much better for his mental health, it had its challenges too. 

Finn was crowded with doctors and nurses, poking and prodding at him. Unlike normal, he was too still, too quiet. While they'd obviously tried to clean the blood from his head injuries, each period of agitation had quickly opened them back up. His shoulder was almost in a sling, though it was clear he'd fought against that not so long ago. 

Fao’s eyes flicked critically over the monitors, trying to gauge where Finn was at. Not great. He took a moment at the foot of the bed, watching them work. Finn really didn’t seem like Finn, though at least he wasn’t fighting them in that moment. He fiddled with the lighter in his pocket,something to keep his hands busy. He’d instinctively reached for his tags, but they weren’t there any more, and he needed something to do. 

One of the nurses caught sight of Fao in her peripheral. "Hi, you must be Finn’s brother?"

Fao nodded. “Yeah. Sorry to linger, I didn’t want to interrupt you all.”

"No, no, of course not. Come on, you can come say hi to him."

Fao pushed through to come along side his brother, a stark contrast to how he usually was at work. They’d not recognised him yet, but he hadn’t been there long, and he was likely just another faceless surgeon when he was down there. He gently reached out to take Finn’s hand, cautious of a reaction from him. 

“Hey, Finn. It’s me, it’s Fao.”

Fao's voice, as it always seemed to, managed to break through to Finn. He blinked at Fao, his gaze dropping to their hands. 

“Hi. Got yourself into a bit of a mess, eh?”

"Oh, he definitely recognised you there." The nurse smiled, fussing over Finn. "Bet you're glad he's here, yeah? You'll have had him worried sick."

Fao squeezed his hand. “You’re a nightmare, you know that? Causing all this lot trouble, too. Look at you.”

The recognition he'd had quickly vanished, Finn looking straight through the lot of them. He pulled his hand from Fao's to rub at his face, his hand coming back red.

“It’s okay.” Fao soothed. “Do you think I could try and clean these wounds for him? I’m a doctor, I’ve got ID somewhere.” He asked, digging around in his pockets. 

"We shouldn't…" She hesitated. It was the most settled Finn had been, and the closest any of them had gotten to him. "I'll grab you some supplies."

He finally found his ID, the lanyard jangling. “Here, and I can give you my GMC if you want to document it.” He said, offering it to her. “Thank you.”

"Ah, brill. You know what the paperwork is like. Do you want a seat?"

“That would be great, thank you.”

"Won't be long." She said softly, resting her hand on his arm before disappearing off. 

“Thanks.” He murmured, leaning on the rails of the bed whilst he waited, watching his brother carefully. 

Finn seemed to fade back in, catching his brother’s eye and holding his gaze. A frown flickered across his face and he shoved his arm in Fao's general direction with a groan.

Fao took his hand. “Hey. Bet you feel shit right now, eh?”

He spat the plastic from his mouth, dislodging the mask on his face.  "My chest hurts."

“Mask needs to stay on, Finn.” Fao told him, but didn’t move to adjust it. “It’s going to hurt, you’re not well.” 

"Then help." He narrowed his eyes, his chest crackling with each breath. The cough didn't take long to follow, but Finn didn't move to cover his mouth or turn his head. 

“Here, let’s get this back on.” Fao said, adjusting the mask. “I know it’s horrid, but it will help you out.” He was definitely out of it, though seemed more coherent than before - coherent enough to complain, anyway. 

Finn scowled as Fao got close, but whatever argument he had planned was quickly lost. His arms stretched out, his shoulder dislocating once more, and his back arched in a seizure. His eyes were fixed in the corner as he groaned, his body contorted and stuck. It finished as quickly as it had started, the extra exertion making Finn struggle and cough.

Shit. 

Fao winced as Finn’s shoulder slipped out of place again, as his back arched and the seizure took him. He was about to hit the emergency bell when it stopped, Finn struggling with his breathing again as his body tried to catch up. He considered going to find someone as the nurse reappeared, chair in hand. 

“He’s just had a seizure, all of about two seconds long, and that shoulder’s gone again.” 

She winced. "Ah, bless him. I'll get some more diazepam for him. The anaesthetists are on their way down, they'll probably have a chat with you. You probably know them, at least better than you know us."

“Maybe, yeah. I’ve not been here long. He needs his neuro really.”

"I think it's Dr Cunningham on this evening."

“Perfect.” Fao said, unable to stop the smile. “He’s Finn’s main consultant.”

"Oh, that's worked out well then." She said gently, moving to check on Finn. 

The younger man had returned to his vacant staring, though still struggled to catch his breath. His saturations hovered just under acceptable, and the doctor sighed from behind them.

"We'd hoped to wait, but I think we should go ahead and get that chest drain in now."

Fao hummed. “Worth doing whilst he’s a bit more settled than he has been.” He took a seat gladly in the chair the nurse had brought him, stroking gently through Finn’s hair. 

"Right, let's get an airway dump, just in case, and then give him a little more sedation. No point making it worse for him."

“Can I stay with him?”

"He's fine to stay." The nurse told the doctor. "He's fine."

Fao glanced at the doctor, relieved the nurse seemed to be on his side. He couldn’t leave Finn again, he just couldn’t. Besides, clearly he was doing something right, because his brother was settled. 

"We'll get you to sit on his other side, yeah? We might have to move you, so just bear with." The doctor happily listened to the nurse. "How are we getting on with that sedation? Got it? Brilliant. Let's get this done for him."

[listerbirdloml]

ghost

(for the iwbft mini story thing)

ask and you shall receive. i'm well aware this is super unrealistic but BOOO DIDNT ASK BOOO I'LL WRITE WHAT I WANT

again, no real content warning other than silliness, strong language, and rushed writing. established bicci but its like two lines. set 2/3 years after events of IWBFT. 1K words.

Ghost

"It's definitely haunted."

When Cecily first mentioned a change in their accommodation during their first tour in America, Jimmy's traitor of a brain instantly began concocting worst-case scenarios. They were going to have to camp in the American wilderness with the bears, the cougars, and the coyotes. They were going to have to ask for shelter at a lonely homestead, as though they were simple gold prospectors in the 1800s seeking shelter. They were going to have to spend another night on that godforsaken tour bus with Rowans loud snoring and Listers incessant need to initiate games of “I spy” every three seconds.

His bandmates had tried reassuring him. There was no way Cecily would let them camp in the middle of the United States, and there was no way she would let them shack up with some random family. No, what was more likely was a change in hotel. Maybe even a switch of rooms. Maybe they’d have to share.

Rowan had been right, apparently. There was a change in hotel. And now, the creators of not two but three golden albums had to spend the night in a most definitely haunted hotel, 50 miles from the nearest town.

"It's not haunted.” Two heads turned to Lister as he spoke up. They had been standing in a row on the pavement, all three of them staring up at the building as though they were getting the perfect promo shot for an indie horror film. Lister bushed his sunglasses off of his nose and rested them on top of his head. There were little red indents where they had originally sat. “I don’t feel anything.”

“You don't feel anything?” Rowan had an eyebrow raised, his voice thick with scepticism. “And pray tell, what would you feel if it was haunted?”

“Oh easy.” Lister slung an arm around Rowan's shoulder. “My butt cheeks would start clenching.” Rowan shoved him off, making him bump into Jimmy, who was still gazing up at the building in front of them. There must have been genuine concern on his face as Listers farcing stopped. “Jimjam, seriously. Dont worry. It's just for one night. Then we are on our way to LA. Theres no haunted building in LA!"

"Actually," but Lister had already walked off, and towards the front door, Rowans comment ignored. The two remaining band members sighed and watched him go, Cecily following not far behind.

“You know, there's a way we could get him back for Peegate."

That caught Jimmy's attention, and he was finally looking away from the rafters. Peegate had happened two weeks prior, during their stop in Texas. Lister had hidden on the tour bus after a stop at a rest station and then texted Rowan, telling them they'd forgotten him while he’d gone into the petrol station to use the toilets. After what was most definitely an illegal U-turn by their driver and fifty frenzied calls to Lister's phone, he’d come out of hiding, all giggles.

So yes. Jimmy was more than happy to get back at him.

The interior wasn’t much better than the exterior of the building. Jimmy thought that it wouldn’t be out of place for a period drama to take place in the room he was supposed to be sleeping in.

There was an ensuite at least, but it was currently occupied by Lister, who had called dibs on the first shower. Jimmy had put up just enough of a fight for it to seem convincing before Lister disappeared behind the door and the spray of water could be heard.

With a text to Rowan to let him know, Jimmy only had to wait all of ten seconds before the bassist was tiptoeing into the room and shuffling under the bed. There was a muffled curse as he hit his head on the frame, but soon after he went quiet, and they both waited for the drummer to reappear.

As was expected, Lister was quick out. His was still dripping with water and his usual pale skin was tinted red from the scalding heat he enjoyed in the shower, but he was thankfully dressed. With a towel wrapped around his shoulders, he yawned loudly and shuffled over to the bed. He had two hands resting on the wood of the bedpost, leaning over to press a loud and exaggerated kiss to the crown of Jimmy's head.

“Bathrooms free, sweetheart—HOLY FUCK!” With a full-body jerk, Lister stumbled backwards. He was screeching incoherently, his right leg raised off the floor.

“Somethinggrabbedmesomethinggrabbedme!” He was pointing frantically under the bed. Jimmy couldn’t keep it in and keeled over laughing. He could hear Rowan laughing just as hard under the bed, and soon he was wriggling his way out. When his upper half was visible he laid on his back, arm over his flushed red face as he continued to cackle.

Jimmy could feel his breath start to catch and reminded himself to breathe in and out correctly, but the look on Listers face made it hard to do so. He looked a true mix of dumbfounded and enraged.

“You bastard!” He stomped his foot like a petulant toddler. One hand was placed on his chest, and he was breathing heavier than normal. "That's not funny, Rowan." But he couldn’t hide the slight twitch in his lips. “You're the worst. What if I'd been naked, huh?" This only served to make Rowan laugh harder.

He scooted the full way out from under the bed and flopped onto his back next to where Jimmy sat. He was starting to calm down now, a hand over his own heart like Listers had been. The blonde sighed and laid down next to him. Jimmy turned so that he was facing their faces again.

"That's what you get for the butt comment.” Jimmy poked Listers rib and earned a swat at his knee in return.

“And Peegate. Don't forget Peegate."

“Shut it, Omondi. Now spoon me as an apology.” After a few bickering comments back and forth, the tallest agreed and turned on his side to hug the drummer, who in turn held his arms out for Jimmy, who gladly accepted. They were on top of the covers still, but none of them seemed to care as they slotted together and fell asleep.

The next morning, they received their usual Poor Hotel Etiquette lecture from Cecily.

Worth it. 

[lumosinlove]

Day Ten:

On the tenth day of Winterfic, Hazel gave to you, a bit of Oh My Heart (Zombie!au)

(cw: mention of death and injury, but nothing very gory, or graphic)

“Anything?”

Natalie shook her head, blond hair braided back in two. She flipped the switch on the radio she’d been working on for the last month. “If you’re asking me if I’ve done my job, then the answer is yes. But no, nothing.”

Logan, standing beside Remus, cursed. Remus rubbed at his eyes. He adjusted his bow over his shoulder and stared at the contraption. He felt like he was in outer-space, trying to reach home, and their orbit was somehow off.

Natalie shrugged. “If there’s a problem, it’s on their side. Sorry, Doc.”

Logan pressed his hands flat against the table, eyes hard. “How’re we suppose to find anyone if we can’t talk to each other?”

Natalie narrowed her eyes, hand resting on her ax that had a constant presence beside her. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Tremblay. We’re all looking for someone.”

“Are you looking hard enough?”

“Watch it there, honey,” Natalie said slowly. “Just because we’re scout partners, doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.” 

Logan stared at her for a long moment before giving the table a small, frustrated shove and turning away.

“Logan,” Natalie sighed. “A radio won’t solve our problems. The dead are still dead.”

“He’s not dead.”

“I’m not saying he is. But stop putting all of your hopes into one thing.” She looked down. “It’ll just hurt you.”

Remus glanced at Logan. He knew his list well. His only remaining family member, his older sister, Noelle, and a boy called Finn. Newcomers were rare this far out of the city, but on the rare occasion they did get one, Logan was ruthless with his questioning. He had a photograph that he showed. It had been taken at a party. Logan looked younger, in college. Maybe that was where he and Finn had met. Remus had never asked. They were standing in a backyard somewhere, picket fence, open grill, string lights. Logan was standing, laughing at something off camera, and Finn was there, too, pressed up behind him, arm wrapped around his chest.

Remus, honestly, didn’t like seeing that photo. It looked too much like the old-normal. Like before. Times like those, of parties and buying packs of beer from the corner store, of finding someone to spend the rest of your life with—a life that would keep growing and turning out new adventures, new loves—were over. Remus would rather forget them than long for them.

God help one woman, May, who had given Logan a hesitant maybe when she’d first arrived and he’d shown her the picture. Logan had all but killed her with his questions. Where? When was this? It’s yes or no, have you seen him? Is he alive? Answer me now.

Logan seemed to think there was a good chance that Finn was in the city. Remus would have been jealous, he wished he had an idea where his family could be—if they were anywhere at all. But to be in the city seemed like a fate worse than death.

“What can I do, is there anything?” Remus asked. “What about Celeste, she’s got scrap medal and…I don’t know, what do you need?”

Natalie gave a sad shake of her head. “Like I said. It’s them, not us.”

“They have got to want to be contacted,” Remus said. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Beats me. They might just not have the equipment.” She smiled and tapped her temple. “Or any brains to use it.”

It was true. Remus counted them lucky to have Natalie’s skill at hand. She’d even managed to rig up an old DVD player and a projector in the canteen some nights. The amount of smiles and laughter had been jarring.

Remus gave a short nod of thanks before pushing his way out of the tent. The winds were picking up and the entry flaps would have to be tied down. It looked like a storm.

Logan pushed after him, glancing up at the sky. “We should send another party to the city.”

“No.”

“But we haven’t been able to get into any buildings. And if the Walkers are coming out in the day now, maybe night’s the better option. We will have darkness.”

“The Walkers don’t see well at any time of day.” Remus returned the smiles he received as they walked down through the trades. He could smell fire and leather, hear people working. “It’s scent and sound, Logan. I know you have people you’re looking for, but you’ll have to be sensible about it.”

Logan scoffed. “There is nothing sensible about any of this.”

Remus sighed and turned into a stall. “Can’t argue with you there. Thomas?”

“Here,” came a voice from behind many shelves before a man pushed through the flap separating the counter from the back. He had dark brown skin and kind eyes, and he grinned widely. “What’s up, Doc?”

Remus leaned on the counter. “Does everyone here know I never actually graduated?”

Logan laughed. “Pretty sure an apocalypse counts as a diploma.”

“Let’s hope I can live up to the name.”

“Look at it this way,” Thomas said. “Your last name isn’t Walker, like mine.”

Remus winced. “You got me there. Sorry.”

“Re.” Thomas arched a brow. “You already do live up to the name. You always have.”

“You haven’t known me always.”

“I have in this always.” Thomas flashed another smile. “Now, what’s up, Doc?”

“Think its going to storm. We’ll need—”

“Buckets are already out,” Thomas said. “Shower tubs open. By Nat’s radar, we’ll have hot showers for, oh, two days.”

“That’s a record,” Logan sighed.

Thomas spread his hands. “Unless you wanna volunteer to hike to the river…”

A crackling of thunder seemed to accentuate his words from above and Thomas threw his head back and laughed when Logan flinched.

Just as suddenly, a familiar, dreaded four clicks sounded from all three of their radios. A signal from the patrol line. Logan’s head snapped up, his hand going behind his shoulders, to the hilt of the long blade slung across his back. Thomas, wordlessly, jumped the makeshift counter and followed Remus beside Logan back down the trade alley. The rain had started. Someone had seen a Walker near camp. The signal came again, then once more—it was a hard thing, sounding an alarm that needed to be as quiet as possible.

“Mon Dieu,” Remus heard Logan whisper under his breath. “Je vous en supplie…”

Remus recognized the prayer, though Logan had never shown signs of being religious. My God, I beg you…

Remus didn’t hear the end of it, but he could guess. Reunions, finding each other was all anyone sought…but not like this.

Remus wouldn’t beg for anyone. Not when it could end like this.

They joined the crowd running towards the perimeter, arrows knocking against his back, but soundless thanks to the felt that Celeste had wrapped them in for him. The alarm only told them there was a Walker, not how many—and not at what stage of the transition they were in. The tall grasses on the outskirts of the camp brushed up to Remus knees and, maybe, in some form or way, he prayed, too.

There were four stages. The first was numbness. It’s what allowed the infection to spread. Blood on the clothes but no pain? Most people assumed the blood was someone else’s and that they were fine. It was only when the pain crept in that they realized, but, even then, there was only about an hour until stage two set in—the headache. The bite went strange to the mind. Remus had heard it described as an intense burning, and he’d tried to rack his brain for what exactly the burning was, but all he could think of was some sort of brain fever setting in, or perhaps the infected bite then acted as some sort of venom, altering its victim. There were very small windows to find out more, and very rare opportunities. He’d seen more bites than he could count, but never, never would he ask anyone to go through the four stages for something like observation. The world was cruel and inhumane enough. Remus only knew about the stages from  word of mouth—as good as rumor and not helpful—or his own accidental stumbling upon victims far enough along. At that point, they merely begged for death—if they even could do anything that sensible at all.

Stage three was the delirium. It sent most people back to the old world, to their old lives. Rambles about dinner reservations or running to the store for milk. Talking to people who weren’t there. The mind, offering one last defense, one final strand of relief to the human conscience. Remus had never seen the delirium be painful, or terrifying. It was like a small, flash of peace for the victim, a happy memory, before everything was lost.

Stage four, they knew the most about of course. One’s self was undone. The Walker. The Dead. Corpsie. Chomper. Gnawer. Brainer. Zombie. More lore than science, stuffed with nicknames as a buffer against what it actually was. The last thing Remus remembered seeing on TV before the world fell apart were frantic questions that were still unanswered. Where did this come from? How did this happen? What is it?

“There!” someone called out, and Remus dropped down from a run to a walk with the rest of them. It was in the trees—the figure of perhaps a young girl. A body with a loose, ragged dress hanging off of it, long blond hair that looked oily in the wind. She was turned away from them, but Remus was glad. He didn’t want to see her face, her walk was enough. The uneven, strangely smooth gait of the Dead.

Remus touched his radio at his hips and clicked it twice, two long beats of silence, then once more. I’ve got it, the signal read.

Painless. Remus would make it painless. Clean. No one deserved to see any of this. He didn’t care how close he had to get. He walked in his soundless, endlessly practiced way, drawing in closer and closer to the Walker’s back, it’s slowly dragging feet. His own breathing was loud in his ears as he used a tree as partial cover, reaching the edge of the woods. He let the trunk support some of his weight—he always felt weak, just before a kill.

Remus raised the bow, and at the creak of the string, the Walker snapped around. Unnaturally. Too jerking, too quick, eyes too wide. They were hazel, yellows and greens, and young. They reminded Remus too much of—of his—

He let the arrow fly. It lodged in her chest, making her sway. There was a horrible moment of complete silence.

And she dropped.

God, did Remus wish that, if this virus refused to take life in its entirety, it would at least have taken the resemblance to humankind out of its victims. To an unaware onlooker, it looked as though he had done nothing more than kill an innocent human.

[novelcain]

Ooooh dragon theories!!!!! I, for one really wanna hear it!

I'm a curious lad and you just mentioned one of the most universal and fascinating mythological beings. I must know what theory you have about them.

- 🐟

FINALLY I CAN ANSWER THIS NOW!!

This ask was based on another ask, which you can find here!

*SHAKES A CAN OF ROCKS*

GATHER ROUND CHILLENS! CAUSE ITS TIME FOR A SKITTLE RAMBLE!

Ok so technically I have a few theories about why dragons are so universal!

The easiest one is that humans as individuals aren't special and think alike a lot more than people want to admit which could be why we have so many repeat concepts throughout history where there was absolutely NO contact with the other cultures some even happening at similar times halfway across the world when that kind of communication wasn't possible😐... But I don't like that idea!😃 *throws it into a wood chipper and aggressive shoves the remains in a blender*

*dusts myself off* NEXT THEORY! You guys may wanna get comfortable for this one.

Now, this one may seem kinda far fetched, but I personally believe it has some merit, so stick with me here! IN FACT, this was actually going to be my college thesis before I dropped out, so I have collected a lot of evidence to support it at least being a possibility! (And in case anyone was wanting to know what I studied I majored in biochemistry and mechanical engineering and minored in psychology. If anyone wants to know more about that feel free to ask.😌 NOW BACK TO MY HYPOTHESIS!) But before we begin☝️, a question. Have any of you ever experienced a situation where you've met someone you've never known get to talking to them and realized that they've had the same wacky and insane idea as you that you've never told anyone about? Well, there's a term for! It's called ✨social consciousness✨! And because of this fascinating concept, I spent my high school and college years secretly experimenting on all my friends, family, and any stranger I was in the company of for longer than five minutes! (Ritz if you're seeing this, yes, I did use you as a test subject, but you can't be mad because you were and still are my favorite one.😁) All to push the limits of this concept in the name of science! And fear not! No humans were harmed in the making of these experiments except for that one kid in my high school college program who had an existential crisis when I discussed this theory of mine with him but that's neither here nor there. ANYWAYS! What I discovered was FASCINATING to say the least! I found that within close proximities, thoughts can to some degree be interpreted! And no I don't mean telepathy. Nothing has come out of those experiments so far BUT I'M STILL HOLDING OUT HOPE! What I mean is that all living creatures emit bioelectricity some more than others but that's besides the point and brains run on that bioelectricity! I believe that each species has a specific frequency and therefore the brainwaves of individuals might be able to be picked up on by another member of that species. Of course, for humans brainwaves can differ greatly and so also I hypothesize that it certainly helps if you have similar brainwave patterns given that some test subjects were more responsive than others but I didn’t have access to an EEG machine those cowards wouldn’t let me borrow one so I wouldn’t know for sure. A few of my finds were as follows: ~57% of the time when consistently thinking of a random tune someone else in the room will begin either humming or tapping to the same rhythm. ~82% of the time when intensely staring at someone from behind or an out of sight location they will directly turn to look at you. ~29-30% of the time when continuously thinking a certain word or action around someone they will eventually mention that they can't seem to get it off their mind lately. And there are many other data points I've collected over the years as well many other branching theories but I think you get the point I'm making. But it's probably that this point in time that you're thinking, "Skittle what the frickidy FUCK does this have to do with dragons?" And to that I ask you, if you took this theory and applied it to a very large population thinking about something all at once, what do you think would happen?🙃 I believe something every interesting would result from such a thing. Such as maybe say the transference of ideas and concepts from one culture to another even over great distances. Except with a few differences here and there to account for both culture and dilution of the transmitted concept. And this doesn’t apply to just dragons, we see similarities in religions that never even knew each other all the time. It’s incredibly interesting to think about.

Basically, if you learned anything at all from that one it's that the world should be on its knees thanking whatever cruel yet merciful god exists that I didn't continue down the path of science otherwise I'd probably be in some government lab either as a mad scientist with questionable morals or an experiment to see how far one can truly stray from sanity.

And my final theory!☝️

That dragons were a real species that might have been hunted or driven to extinction by a growing human presence. And if they were a very large widespread species found all over the world then regional differences would only be natural. That they, like many other species, adapted to their habitats. Or perhaps they are like tigers, leopards, lions, and jaguar who are all different species but are from the same genus. And if they were animals meant to fly then hollow bones would most likely be very necessary making fossilization and preservation very difficult. Paleontologists find pieces of large bones that can't be identified all the time. And fossilized eggs aren't even possible to be definitively matched to a species. We could have been staring at the answer for decades and we'd never know it.

Me trying to explain my theories in a manner that makes sense:

[hard-deckpilots]

Tapping out.

Pairing: Robert 'BOB' Floyd × Y/n 'Ghost' Y/l/n

Summary: At your Top Gun graduation you were meant to have someone tap you out. But no one comes. So someone else comes to the rescue.

Warnings: Just a little bit of sadness. Bob and his dad being sweethearts.

A/N: I've just given Bob's dad a random name, so his name is Jim 'Papa' Floyd.

Wordcount: 784

Tag:@sebsxphia

It was 3 days out until the graduation of this year's Top Gun class.

But no one was coming to your graduation. You knew that much. When Bob had questioned you about your glum mood you had explained.

"No one is coming. No one will be tapping me out." You explained placing your forehead on the desk,

"It'll be okay Ghost. We'll think of something okay? I'll be there for you okay?" Bob responded rubbing your back softly trying to give some sort of comfort.

That night the two of you went off to your separate dorm rooms and tried to get some sleep. Before falling asleep Bob rang up someone he knew could help with your predicament.

"Hey dad." Bob spoke over the phone,

"Hey kiddo, everything alright with you?" His dad spoke.

"Yeah I'm good dad, I just had a question that's all. Would you be able to do me a favour on graduation day?" Bob asked knowing that his dad would most likely say yes,

"Of course I can son." His dad smiled thinking of how proud he is of Bob.

"Would you consider tapping out Y/n? They don't have anyone to tap them out, and I want to be there for them." Bob explained thinking about you, wanting to cheer you up at least on the biggest day of Top Gun,

"I will be there for you both, you know that." His father spoke smiling over the phone.

The two bid goodnight to each other and Bob fell asleep knowing that graduation day would be good.

The next two days consisted on making sure that all of the graduation class knew what they needed to do for the parade. It also involved the uniform prep, the white uniforms clean and pristine with all the necessary badges. And shoes shined to a mirror perfection.

"You'll get to see my dad tomorrow you know." Bob mentioned whilst the two of you ate lunch,

"I can't wait to see him, it feels like ages since I saw him last." You spoke shoving a piece of apple in your mouth.

"Y/n if it's okay with you, would you like my dad and I to tap you out tomorrow?" Bob asked hoping that you would say yes,

"Wait...really?" You asked stopping what you were doing.

"Yeah. I mean I know how much it means to you to graduate. And dad knows you, he always had your back even if you didn't realise it when we were growing up." Bob explained turning to you at your shocked expression,

"I would love that, thank you Bobby." You smiled giving his hand a squeeze.

"You're welcome." Bob smiled giving your hand a squeeze back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Graduation day:

You could feel yourself shaking, one of the biggest days in your military career. You had finally finished getting your uniform together. Freshly pressed, shined and every little bit of hair in place.

The parade marched out into the drill square with each movement being precise. A speech was given by a high ranking officer, you weren't exactly sure who they were but they had been around.

Stood at attention, family members of fellow pilots came out to tap them out. Although you knew Bob's dad was going to tap you out, you felt a bit of emptiness for not having your family there.

It felt as though it took forever for Bob and his father to arrive. And if you didn't know any better you had probably thought they were brothers. You hadn't realised until now how much Bob looked like his father.

Both in their uniforms, Bob standing next to Jim or as a lot of people know him as Papa. Both with a big smile on their face.

"Lieutenant Y/N 'Ghost' Y/L/N you have officially graduated from Top Gun." Jim smiled placing his hand on your shoulder.

As you felt his hand touch your shoulder, you instantly drew the two of them into a massive hug. A few tears fell down your face, both happy and some sad.

"Thank you both so much." You smiled at them both,

"Hey, you're family to us. We were not going to let you down." Jim spoke pulling you into a separate hug.

You tightened your hold for a moment and then let go, turning towards Bob. Giving him a hug you heard him whisper in your ear.

"I will always be with you, no matter what happens." He spoke softly then placing his chin on your shoulder,

"You're the best Bobby." You responded giving his cheek a small kiss so no one would notice.

After hours of having to do certain things for the parade, you could finally take a breath.

A breath that wouldn't last long, but it would do for now.