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thewalkingwillowtree · 7 months

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Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 24.

Xilä is my own creation.

Part 20 - New Life

From her spot around the crackling fire, Xilä felt as if she were being watched. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was though.

Since their arrival at Awa’atlu, she’d gotten her fair share of stares and peaks and glances. She’d expected it really.

Physically wise, Xilä was no Omaticaya, so she didn’t blame the Metkayina people for their curiosity. She herself was curious about them.

So when the other clans had arrived- all in their varying physicality's, she wasn’t the only one of interest and it was nice if she were being honest.

But Aonung however, well his stares were different. She didn’t think they had anything to do with her features, not really. It didn’t feel rude or inappropriate either. More… intrigued, perhaps? Confused?

He always watched her as if he had a question right at the tip of his tongue, but he never asked. Instead he’d always pursue his lips and look away.

Tonight, a large group of them- all mostly within the same age bracket, had escaped to a nearby little island, which was nothing more than a sandy beach with very little vegetation.

Away from the rest of their families, they built an impressive bonfire and made themselves comfortable on woven mats whilst pouches and cups of strongly brewed spirits and fermented wine were shared around.

Xi politely declined any offers of the alcoholic beverages and was thankful that no one questioned her about it.

Their large group was scattered along the shoreline, creating clusters of conversations and activities and attraction was heavy in the air.

For those single- the women whispered and giggled amongst their groups, eyes darting over to whichever male had caught their attention.

As for the men- well, their own peeks and glances weren’t as hidden either, not even the ones being silly and dumb by daring each other to do stupid things by the water’s edge.

There were even couples- some mated like her and Neteyam who cuddled and spoke quietly as if they were in their own world, gazes locked and glistening with love.

The vibe and atmosphere all reminded Xilä of the night she’d completed her rites. They were all so young and full of life. And the rare freedom to let go and be themselves- away from elders or younglings, it was refreshing.

Unable to bear the feeling any longer, Xilä finally turned away from her mate and met Aonung’s intense stare.

He was quite a sight to see- he always was really. Aonung had not one, but two gorgeous females under his arms. A flirty, bubbly thing- the daughter of an Anuri warrior who seemed to be animatedly talking his ear off.

And the other- a sultry, vixen of a Metkayina woman whose lips appeared to be permanently attached to his skin- her mouth lavishing and sucking at his neck with gusto. The woman whispered something to him- something that made his lips quirk devilishly.

“I’m beginning to think your friend has a staring problem,” Xilä murmured to her mate.

“He’s asking for it now,” Neteyam replied through gritted teeth. “I won’t warn him a second time.”

She probably shouldn’t have said anything. “Ignore him. He’s probably doing it on purpose, trying to test your patience.”

“Sure.”

Xilä tittered when he wrapped a possessive arm around her and allowed herself to be shifted out of view- face pushed into a hard chiselled chest. She didn’t need to glance up to know her mate was probably boring holes into Aonung’s head.

Their bickering hot and cold, frenemy relationship never failed to amuse her. They were adults- men, but yet they behaved like boys around each other.

The Metkayina male gave him a knowing smirk before returning to the conversation with the group surrounding him- his voice so important that all eyes fell on him to hear what he was saying.

Lo’ak’s laugh pulled Neteyam’s attention away- and Xilä’s.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” she whispered, peeking out to observe the couple seated nearby. “He’s completely smitten.”

Neteyam watched Lo’ak and Tsireya. His head was in her lap and their fingers were interlocked- they looked every bit in love.

He’d never seen his brother so open with affection. Not with anyone really. Lo’ak was a heartbreaker- unknowingly to himself. Kiri didn’t joke about his fan club for no reason. His brother had charm and the moves to have any woman at his feet- something Neteyam had once upon a time been jealous of.

But this? This open display of ‘this is my woman’- Neteyam had never seen this from him.

“Oh yeah... He’s a goner. She’s good for him.”

When the drums and bone flutes began with a deafening roar, Xilä was quick to find Kiri- both girls pulling a hesitant Tsireya along to dance amongst a growing crowd.

And while she was busy, Neteyam enjoyed conversing with a spontaneously formed group of men he and Lo’ak had befriended during their stay. There were K’ayno and Astlu- cousins from the Tipiani clan, Ye’k- a warrior from Ta'unui and Cxian the son and next in line Olo'eyktan of the Sarentu clan.

Neteyam of course couldn’t help himself and still kept careful watch on Xilä, lips quirking upwards every time his eyes landed on her. She was enchanting as she moved- standing out from everyone else.

She and Tsireya eventually made their way to him and Lo’ak- Xilä begging him to dance with her- eyes dangerous and weaponized to make him weak, however could he say no?

They danced for what felt like hours- yipping and twirling on fast feet. Rhythmic music beats speeding up, Xi’s hips moved wildly in time with the drums. Neteyam followed, eyes heated and intense on the woman before him, hands greedy and unable to not touch her skin while he stole and planted kisses wherever he could.

It was electrifying.

There was no one else but her and him.

As the night wore on, almost everyone was on their feet, bodies moving carefree and minds loose as they gave in to the spirit of the music.

Eventually needing a break, Neteyam left Xilä in the trusted hands of his brother, sister, and now soon to be sister-in-law. Xi loved dancing, she was not stopping any time soon, he knew.

Returning from relieving himself in a secluded patch of shrubbery, he saw a lone figure near the water’s edge.

“Not in a dancing mood, I see,” he teased, startling his friend who had been tossing pieces of his meal into the calm ocean, a sort of game with a few clustered ilu.

“Not really, no. Although I must say it was quite shocking to see you of all people out there with the rest of them. Last I remember from your previous visit, you turned down almost every teenage girl who’d dared muster the courage to ask you to dance.”

Neteyam snorted. “Yeah well what can I say, Aonung? Those girls weren’t my wife.”

Aonung's flickered to his, and the same curious expression he’d been staring at Xilä with was now directed at him. He stared as if wondering who the man in front of him was- as if seeing him for the first time.

“Alright, enough. Spit it out. What’s the matter? If I didn’t know you, with all the looks and staring you’ve been giving my mate lately, I’d think you were interested in her- but I do know you so I know you’re not stupid enough for it to be that. What’s going on Aonung?”

Aonung’s gaze fell. Jaw clenched in irritation, he pretended to be far more interested in the rolling sea.

Before Neteyam could speak again, they were interrupted.

“Aonuuung, come dance with me,” a Metkayina woman crooned through slurred speech. She plastered herself to him, most likely unaware that Neteyam was standing right there since her fingers tried to creep into Aonung’s loincloth. “Or do you want to sneak any instead? I’ll do that thing with my tongue like last time and maybe we could-”

“Zers’i,” Aonung chided, although there was no real bite to it. “Go find someone else to warm your bed tonight. I’m sorry, but I’m not very good company right now.”

“Oh…” She pouted dramatically- huffing in disappointment when he pulled her hand away from groping him. “Well maybe next time then, yeah?”

“Next time,” he promised.

Neteyam coughed and looked away when the woman promptly kissed him- practically sticking her tongue down his throat in goodbye before finally stumbling back to the dancing crowd.

“Brother, don’t even.”

But Neteyam couldn’t keep a straight face.

Aonung scowled and flopped to the ground with a sigh when he heard his friend’s stifled titters turn into a full bellied laugh.

“Right… no, because while I’m thoroughly traumatized, that- that was entirely too entertaining.”

“How’d you and Xilä happen?”

“What?” Neteyam sobered up quickly at the sudden question.

Aonung blew out a breath and hung his head, elbows digging into his propped thighs. “I need a mate. Soon.”

Understanding dawned upon Neteyam. He glanced over to the crowd in the distance and once he spotted Xilä who was squashed between Kiri, Tsireya and a few other familiar females, he slumped down onto the sand beside his friend.

“A mate… You’ve been given a deadline I’m assuming?”

“A year. One fucking year,” Aonung rasped.

“Shit.” And Neteyam thought his six years were ridiculous.

“I don’t know how you do it. I don’t think I’m cut out for all this. How do you deal with the pressure? We have to take over from our fathers, follow in their great and mighty footsteps- lead an entire clan of people who hold us with the highest of expectations. They expect us to find a woman and make sure we produce the future generation, they expect us to be the best examples and not step an inch out of line because when we mess up it’s-”

“Our responsibility and we should have known better… yeah.” Neteyam rubbed the back of his neck. He knew exactly where Aonung was coming from- from each and every side. “Believe me I get it- all of it.”

They sat quietly for a few long minutes- the drums and yips and hoots being the only thing they heard until Aonung broke the silence between them.

“Your Xilä is great- amazing. I’m halfway not joking when I say sometimes that I’d steal her from you… but she baffles the shit out of me.”

“It what way?”

Aonung shrugged. “She’s as in love with you as you’re in love with her. Right?”

Well now Neteyam was straight up confused. “I’d say so, yeah.”

“And it’s not all an act?”

“Fuck no. What are you trying to get at?”

“The last time you were here, you said you’d probably never take a mate. You said- what was it again? Oh right, that you hated the pressure of being “the chief’s kid and wish you had the guts to do things your way.” Did I remember all of that right?”

“Impeccable memory there, brother. You should also note that I was sixteen and an idiot.”

“Skxawng relax,” Aonung chuckled, amused by Neteyam’s sudden defensiveness. “I’m glad you found happiness, truly. I’m simply looking for it myself. You saw a couple of the others-” he jerked his chin towards a certain group of men- men like them who either followed in their father’s footsteps, or “married” into it. “Not everyone like us gets lucky like you.”

Neteyam absorbed his words. He knew arranged matings were the norm for most clans. Some pairings eventually found love, while others tolerated the match. Neteyam knew he was blessed, this trip had solidified it as much.

Of the many Na’vi who’d shown up to Awa’atlu, he and Aonung had met some of the unlucky ones- the ones who’d taken another out of duty and expectation. It wasn’t that they were out right miserable, but it was clear as day… They weren’t really happy.

“I guess I should be grateful that my parents are allowing me to find my own mate and haven’t just thrown someone at me… K’ayno over there”- he pointed to the Tipani man- “his mate was picked out for him before he could even talk. They’ve been together for eight years already. They’ve got a kid and another on the way… does it seem like there’s an ounce of affection in that relationship to you?”

“Eight years? He’s only two years older than me..”

“Yeah. And I don’t want that. Couldn’t do it.”

Neteyam distractedly nodded in agreement, mind whirling away.

“How’d you choose her though? Xi? How did you decide to spend an eternity with that one woman?”

“Eywa.”

“Eywa? That’s a given, ‘Teyam. I’m being serious here.”

“And so am I. Look, just like you I got a deadline, not only that but a blood-oathed yes from me, sealed the deal- I had no choice. At first I did try to make a connection. Nothing felt right. I fooled around with a couple women- though, not as openly as you, my friend,” he said, making them both chuckle. It eased the tension somewhat. “But it wasn’t until Xilä who practically landed in my arms, did I know. Eywa’s to thank for that.”

After another quick glance to his woman, he continued. “She’s impossible not to love. It was fast. I didn’t even court her. I claimed her as mine without going through all the traditional bullshit, and pissed off our mothers and half the clan while at it… and I have no regrets. I’d do it all the same way in a heartbeat.”

Aonung’s brows rose high at the admission of pissing off their mothers and made a playful jab that made the conversation veer off topic for a couple minutes.

“Man, your story was sweet and all, but that tells me nothing. How’d you know it was Xi?”

He considered the question. “I cared.”

“You… cared? That’s it? It was that easy?”

“She was the first thing on my mind when I woke up and the last before I slept. It might sound trivial, but I cared about whether she’d eaten dinner or what her plans were for the rest of the day. I wanted to know everything about her. What her favourite food was, what her past was like, what she wanted for her future. I wanted to know what her fears were and what I could do to make them all go away. I hated sharing her- wanted her all to myself all the fucking time. And… and I’d never felt an ounce of any of that with anyone. Ever.”

Aonung had an indescribable look on his face as Neteyam spoke. He shook his head, brows furrowed in hopelessness. “I don’t even know where to begin looking for someone like that. Not that I even tried looking yet, that is.”

“So don’t.” Neteyam shrugged, “This might be shit advice, so take it at your own risk… but maybe you shouldn’t look. I had about given up until Xilä came along. Maybe it can work for you too. Eywa will hear your heart.”

Aonung reluctantly nodded. “Thanks,” he said in a tight voice, and Neteyam knew his thanks weighed heavily- that it meant more.

“Oh and by the way, if you tell anyone about this little conversation, I’ll deny it and kick your ass. I’m not giving up hope for round two with you and beating you this time around.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Neteyam shoved him with a grin of his own.

His friend's chin jerked forward to where Xilä stood a couple feet away, seeming unsure if she should interrupt.

“I think your pretty mate misses you,” he pointed out, taking in the way her cheeks were flushed and hair was wild and askew from her dancing. There was no doubt she was gorgeous and although he was wholeheartedly happy for Neteyam, he still felt that subtle pang of jealousy.

“I’ll see you bro,” Neteyam said, eyes drawn to his waiting wife. They both got to their feet and slapped arms in parting.

Aonung watched Neteyam greet his mate, head ducking low to claim her lips, one palm cupping her cheek, the other pulling her close while Xilä tucked her fingers into his belt.

“Hi baby,” he heard Neteyam murmur, “you ready to go?”

Xilä whispered something that Aonung couldn’t make out, but it made Neteyam laugh and kiss her again, deeper as if he hadn’t seen her for ages.

And when they broke apart- voices hushed and eyes intensely locked, Aonung didn’t miss the way his friend’s palm spread across the span of Xilä’s stomach… or the way they both looked down to where it rested, smiles matching in the moonlight.

The old device gave a loud whirring noise that made all three of them cringe and wince in discomfort. Xilä in particular slapped her palms to her ears to try and muffle the sound, while Neteyam himself clenched his teeth together- ears flat to his head.

“Sorry! Sorry! Lemme just- oh don’t do this to me now.” Norm’s fingers moved furiously across the keyknobs and the instant the high pitched sound ended, he released a joyful WHOOP and raised his fist in the air. “It works! I am a fucking genius.”

Neteyam chuckled and peered over the older man’s shoulder at the large, clear monitor screen. The glass had a slight crack on the top left corner, but then again the thing was most likely ancient after all.

Xil watched too, fascinated by the numbers, letters and moving lines that flooded the “page” Norm had brought up.

“Alright then genius, lets see you get it up and running now.”

They left him to it, and it took him another half hour filled with curses and threats at the poor device, but with a final few strokes of the keyboard, Norm was looking back at Stephan and Max- their background being the familiar scenery of the labs back at Home Camp.

Between him and Stephan, they made a few more tweaks, and then- finally then, Xilä was staring back at her parents who were also awed by the technology like her.

“Xilä! Oh magnificent Eywa- Jxo, look, look it’s our Xilä!” Salveen was yelling at the top of her lungs. “Darling, can you see us too?! Can you hear me?!” the elder screeched while her face pressed up into the glass.

Norm, Xilä and Neteyam smothered their amusement while watching a very patient Max explain to her parents how the communication worked and that they could speak normally.

“We’ll give you some time to catch up, but I’ll be back, okay?” Neteyam murmured before he and Norm quickly made their way out of the designated mauri used for communications- a makeshift lab of some sort.

“Hi,” Xilä breathed, smiling wide at the sight of them after so long, fingertips gently pressed to the glass.

“Oh I miss you, my sweet girl. Darling you’re glowing, you look so beautiful, doesn’t she, Jxo?”

Jxo grunted in agreement. “When are you coming back?” was the first thing he said.

Xilä’s smile faulted a little, she was going to have to tell them. “I miss you too. So much. Have you been taking care of yourselves?”

“Bah, we’re fine. Just fine. Oh I have so much to tell you though. You’ll never guess who broke off their betrothal!”

On and on Sal went, filling Xilä in on all the latest gossip of the Camp. Xilä awed and gasped and laughed throughout it all- giggling, especially when Sal would throw out a “right, Jxo?” to which the man would simply nod or grunt in agreement.

Xilä loved them both so much. Right now all she longed for was to hug them, to physically see them in person. She missed them a ridiculous amount.

She perked up when she heard a familiar shriek in the background.

D’avi and Yalnïk appeared with their two babbling children. “Xilä!”

“D’aviii!”

L’eya was plonked onto her grandfather’s lap and then an overly excited D’avi invaded most of the space on the screen and started blubbering away- much like her mother had done before.

There were many “I miss yous” and “look how shiny and long your hair has gotten!” and “when are you coming home?”

Both sisters were momentarily in their own little world and Xi was saved from answering her sister’s last question when L’eo shrieked- the baby clearly needing some attention.

Yalnïk and D’avi proudly filled her in on the twins' newest milestones. L’eo was even more a talker now, and Xilä had just about burst into tears when Yalnïk pointed to her and asked his son to say hi to his aunty Xilä- to which L’eo strung together a jumbled mess of words that sounded exactly like it.

L’eya had finally taken her first steps and was now cautiously toddling around after her brother who’d Xi had had the joy witnessing his own first steps before she’d left.

Jxo had gotten up to give Xilä a little demonstration by placing the baby down on shaky legs. She was still wobbly and didn’t want to let go of her grandfather’s fingers, but she managed to make a couple solid steps before falling on her bum. L’eya’s bottom lip wobbled in preparation to cry but still distractedly clapped her hands along with everyone else when they’d cheered her.

Xilä had tears running down her cheeks by now. “Ah my babies, I miss you two so much,” she sobbed whilst smiling back at the toothy little grins of her chatty excited niece and nephew who blew her sloppy kisses.

“Do you want me to come get you?” Jxo suddenly asked- voice gruff and no nonsense as ever. He kept staring at her as if trying to figure something out. “What’s that damn boy doing to you? You keep crying, darling. I don’t like it.”

“Jxo!” Sal chided but her mate paid her no mind.

He simply handed her L’eya and came closer to the screen, frown deepening. “Where’s he at, Xilä? I want to talk to him.”

Xilä couldn’t help laughing while she frantically tried to remove the evidence from her under her eyes and cheeks. “I’m fine, father. I am. Neteyam is as wonderful as ever to me. I just really miss you all. Finally talking and seeing you,” she sniffled, “just makes me really happy.”

Her father seemed to buy it after a couple more of her assurances.

Her family asked about life at Awa’atlu- Yalnïk in particular was highly interested in the fishing techniques and gear- which Xilä suggested he ask her husband instead- she’d not really paid any attention to the job.

D’avi told her that Leati and Ze’lu had finally started courting- much to Fe’ska’s displeasure and apparently there was a very public argument between the mother and daughter that was all the clan could talk about for days.

They spent another half hour of bonding before Neteyam returned and quietly asked if she was ready for him to interrupt. Crouched beside her with a warm palm to her thigh, he greeted her family and caught up with them- marvelling over how much the twins had grown in the few months they’d been gone.

And when the Sully family started trickling in- Spider included of course and when Mo’at appeared on the screen as well- it was like one big happy reunion.

Mo’at had eyes for only her at first, ignoring everyone else in favour of asking about her health. The Tsahìk was not usually the fretting type, but with all the questions and attention, Xilä had a feeling that the grandmother knew.

Afterwards Lo’ak introduced them to his lovely future mate who shifted nervously under Mo’at’s assessing gaze. D’avi saved the awkward encounter by complementing Tsireya’s hair, and from there, the two became quite chatty.

Finding the right moment, Neteyam stood, cleared his throat, calling for everyone’s attention. He squeezed the back of his mate’s neck in comfort when she leaned her head against his leg.

“So, I’ll admit, I had a bit of an ulterior motive for making all this happen. We- Xilä and I have some news we’d like to share.”

A soft gasp was heard through the computer- D’avi.

“Oh I knew-mpf!”

Yalnïk covered his mate's mouth like he’d probably had to do a thousand times, and shot Neteyam a sheepish smile and nod to continue.

“Right, um, baby?” He offered her his hands and helped her stand.

Xilä was nervous, but with an uncontrollable excited grin, she pushed down the bunchy material of her long slitted skirt which sat high up on her waist and revealed the little bump she’d been hiding for the last couple of weeks.

“Surprise! I’m pregnant!”

The noise that erupted was deafening- cheers and screams and cries of happiness which was mildly overwhelming.

Neytiri was the first to wrap her up in a hug, pulling back to cup Xilä’s cheeks with a blinding smile before she was leaning over to do the same to her son.

Sal was just about squeezing the life out of poor Jxo as she squealed and jabbered on and on.

“I knew it!” D’avi was telling Kiri whilst taking a whining L’eo into her arms, and blindly pulling at her top so her baby could feed. “She’s got the glow- and the tears.”

“Shit, you’re right, the tears! I knew something was up,” Spider laughed, “no regular sane person cries over fruit- Ow! Kiri!”

Kiri rolled her eyes at him, then made her move to congratulate her brother and sister-in-law.

“XiXii!” Lo’ak shouted from across the room. “I’m really going to be an uncle? You- you’re not pranking, right? Because this is the best day everrrr! Babe, hold me,” he fake sobbed dramatically, throwing himself at Tsireya.

A frowning Tuktirey had made her way to her eldest brother and patted his leg to get his attention. He’d been wrapped up in a hug by his father who was teasing him about his upcoming journey of fatherhood.

“Hey there, baby sis.” He lifted her up with a dramatic groan and planted a kiss on her cheek.

Tuk poked his nose and then frowned at Xilä who was chatting away with Mo’at and her family through the screen. “You’re still gonna love me the most right?” she pouted. “Even when the baby comes?”

“Aw, Tuk. Are you worried about that?”

The little girl shrugged and played with the beads on his choker. “Täylley said when her sister had a baby, everyone forgot about her. She said they only ever wanted to play with the new baby. Just like everyone sometimes does with L’eo and L’eya.”

Neteyam knew the feeling Tuk was experiencing all too well. He was the eldest of four after all.

“I’m sorry your friend’s feeling that way but I’m sure that’s not the case at all. And it definitely won’t be the case for you. Who do you think is going to teach the baby how to build a fort or paint the best looking flowers I’ve ever seen?”

“I can climb the best in my class. I bet they wouldn’t know how to do that either.”

“Nope. See, they’ll need an expert like you to show them.”

“Yeah, I can show them… but only when they get older. When they could talk- and walk,” Tuk said, hesitantly as if trying not to get too excited.

“That’s right.. You know, the baby, and L’eo and L’eya are going to need someone they can look up to. Someone awesome, and brave and smart. Someone who can-”

Tuk’s eyes were wide as she absorbed her brother’s words. “Me. Me! I can be that person. I know I’m only seven, but I can do it! Almost- almost like a big sister, right?”

Neteyam kissed her cheek again and playfully tickled her side. “That’s right.”

Xilä shook her head at her mother’s question. “I haven’t really been sick, mostly nauseous around certain scents.”

“Oh you lucky bitch,” D’avi teased without heat. “These two had me constantly throwing up for the first four months straight, and then it was a constant fight or dance party inside me for the other eight.”

“What has Ronal been giving you for your daily nutritional maintenance?” Mo’at asked with a slight frown.

“A couple things I’m unfamiliar with. But I feel fine and my energy is good. Once I have a nap in the afternoon, I’m not overly tired for the rest of the day.”

“What worries you mother?” Neytiri, who was at Xilä’s side, asked.

“I know not about the Metkayina’s ways. I would be far more comfortable knowing Xilä was under my care. How far along are you, dear? Did Ronal confirm?”

“I’m nearing the end of my fifth month,” Xilä admitted with a hand to her stomach. She knew where this was going. She knew it was time to share the other part of the news with her family- news she was dreading.

“She- Ronal strongly advises against me returning home until a couple months after the birth.”

“What?!!” D’avi and Sal exclaimed together. Even Neytiri- and Kiri, who had just joined, glanced at her in alarm, Jxo’s lighthearted expression turned to stone.

“We don’t leave here for another two and a half months and by then I’ll be too far along to risk the journey by ikran… I’m sorry mother, I-”

“No… No, Tsahìk, tell her it’s fine,” Sal gently demanded- though a hint of hysteria poked through.

“I’m afraid Ronal is right. I was against you going on this trip in the first place. But it wasn’t for me to say at the time- and the risk was far lower. As much as you may not like it Xilä, the safest thing for you and the baby is to stay there.”

Neteyam didn’t think he could ever tire of the beauty spanned before him. Even at night, Awa’atlu was a sight to behold.

He and Xilä sat on the beach while calm waves rolled in, kissing the tips of his toes before fading back. His pretty mate sat between his propped up thighs, head and body molded to his chest while he cradled her bump.

Since they’d found out she was expecting two months ago, her bump had grown- still small but prominent enough that she couldn’t hide it anymore.

“You’re quiet tonight. Too quiet.”

“Just thinking.”

“More like overthinking. I can hear your thoughts a mile away, sweetheart… Tell me.”

She sighed. “I think it’s finally registered for me that we’re actually having a baby… a baby who’s going to be here in only a couple of months. Our baby, yours and mine… I- I’m going to be a mother.”

At her tone, Neteyam’s fingers paused their gentle caressing on her bump. He said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“I know we’ve had conversations before and I agreed to all of this, and I’m not backing out- I’m not. But I’m scared, Neteyam. Eywa gave us a precious gift.”

Her hands came up to rest over his. “I’m scared that I’m going to mess this up somehow. I don’t know the first thing about being a good mother. I mean, look at last month- I completely freaked out when I felt our baby flutter inside of me for the first time.”

Still listening, her mate hugged her closer, chin nudging her temple, propped thighs pressing into hers.

“My birth parents messed me up. Their own parents messed them up too. I want to break that cycle. I refuse to be like them. But it doesn't stop my worrying and I- Ugh… You probably think I’m being silly bringing this all up again.”

“Xilä…” Neteyam licked his lips and exhaled a breath. “You’re not alone in the way you’re feeling. You don’t think I worry about being a good father? Of course I do. But we’re in this together. You and me, baby. We’ll figure it all out together too. And you what? We’re going to mess up. We’re going to make mistakes. There’s no perfection in all of this.”

He flipped the arrangement of their hands, his covering hers as they rested against her skin. “But you know what? The little one we created inside there? We’re going to try our damn hardest to be the best parents we could possibly be for them, and we’re going to love the heck out of our kid. ”

“Yeah?” Her head tilted to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, baby. You and me. Always...” He ducked and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re going to be an amazing mother, Xilä. Our baby is lucky.”

Just as Xilä was about to respond, a sharp gasp escaped her lips instead.

Neteyam tensed. “What-”

“‘Teyam, I-” She grappled for his palm and moved it lower- just under her navel where she’d felt it.

He was going to ask her what was wrong when he felt it too- he felt the light pressure press into his hand, a small little first hello from his baby.

“Was that-” And if he thought he’d imagined it he certainly didn’t, because he felt it again, and then again.

“Oh Eywa,” he whispered, meeting her awed ecstatic expression. “Was that the first time? First kick?”

“Uh-huh. Oh! There it is again.”

“Well hi there, little Sprout. Are you finally saying hello?”

“Sprout?” Xilä chuckled.

“Yeah, been calling them that in my head since your tiny bump first appeared.”

“Sprout. I like it- it’s a cute nickname… Hello, baby Sprout,” she sang to her tummy.

“Speaking of names, we’re going to have to pick one ou-”

“‘Teyam.” Xilä suddenly sat up and turned to give him her full attention, finality set in her expression. It had been eating her alive and now she was more sure than ever.

“I know Ronal said it’s not safe- but I really don’t want to have the baby here. I want to go home. I want us to go home.”

And without hesitation or worry over how he was even going to make it happen, Neteyam gave her a firm nod. “Okay. Then we’re going to go home.”

“Are you going to get big like D’avi was? She was so huge! Bigger than Täylley’s sister when she was having her baby.”

“A-ha! Um, maybe. D’avi was having twins after all.”

“Oh right… Is it only Sprout then? They’ll be lonely inside of there don’t you think? Oh! Do you remember the christening grandmother Sal took us too? The one where her- her friend’s daughter had three babies?! You should do that Xi.

You should grow three.”

“Three?” Xilä spluttered with a laugh. “Why three?”

“Three’s better. There’ll be one for me, one for L’eo and one for L’eya to play with,” the seven year old stated matter-of-factly.

“I see… Well, I’m sorry I can’t make that happen. I don’t think it works like that. And anyway, Ronal confirmed there’s only one little one growing inside of me right now.”

“Oh. Mm that’s okay too, I guess. We’ll just have to share, but I’ll be the baby’s fav-”

Tuk stopped. Her brow wrinkled as she pondered in thought, fingers pausing their works on the pile of sand she and Xilä were constructing.

“Xilä? Do you think Sprout will like me? Täylley fights all the time with her sister’s baby- and he can’t even talk yet! She said he’s always pulling her hair or biting her finger! Can you believe that?”

Xilä tried her hardest not to laugh at the little girl’s theatrics. “I think the baby will love you, Tuk. Just like I do. I’m a little jealous that my baby will grow up having someone amazing like you in their life, honestly.”

“I am pretty amazing, huh?” Tuk nodded seriously, making Xilä smother another incoming chuckle.

Tuktirey scooted over on her knees, sandy little hands reaching out to rest against Xilä’s bump. “I think you’d be a really great mommy.”

Xilä sucked in a surprised breath. “Yeah? What makes you say that?” she whispered.

“Just because, and my mommy and daddy said so too last night,” Tuk shrugged while she continued to rub Xilä’s belly, rendering the pregnant woman slightly speechless.

“Why’s the baby so quiet? Can you make Sprout do the kicking thing again?”

“Baby’s probably sleeping. Lately, they seem to like keeping me awake at night with all their stretching and kicking. Shall we see if we can wake them up?”

After a couple nudges and feeling around, they finally felt a small, almost barely there kick which made Tuktirey giggle then pout when the baby didn’t move again.

“I think Sprout’s a bit grumpy today. Probably telling us off for disturbing their sleep.”

Tuk sighed dramatically, a sigh that reminded Xilä too much of Sal. “Okay, well let's get back to work then. I’ll finish the mountains and you dig the hole for the lake. Then we can fill it with water.”

“Hey, Tuk,” Xilä called when she caught sight of a lonely figure. Ronal and Tonowari’s youngest son was playing in the sand by himself a couple feet away. “This seems like a really big task. Why don’t you invite him to come help us?”

“Ohh, great idea!”

Once the trio completed their masterpiece and the kids decided to run off and play near where Neytiri was helping shell clams with a couple other women, Xilä stepped away and walked toward the shoreline.

A cool breeze sent her hair flying. She shook out the thin shawl she’d been sitting on and wrapped it around her shoulders instead to combat the chill of the wind.

Neteyam and Aonung were still where she’d left them since she’d come out here. They were further out- knee length deep in the crystal clear waters as they fished.

Xilä bit her lip at the sight before her. She openly ogled her mate, appreciating the ripples of his back muscles and biceps while he worked the massive net in his hands. Aonung must've said something funny, because her husband's shoulders shook slightly.

“Can you not look at my brother like that in public, Xilä?” Kiri complained with a dramatic groan, making the pregnant woman jump as she approached. “I get that your hormones are all over the place but sheesh. Every time I see you it’s the same damn look. No one needs to see your fuck me eyes in public. Bleh.”

“Well hello to you too. I’ll remember this the next time you want to drag me to the training rings to spectate and find that Tasam’s the one who’s conveniently already there, mid-fight. I’ll remember to tell you the same thing when you’re shooting him your own fuck me eyes, as you call it.”

Kiri’s mouth flopped open to argue a retort, but she quickly shut it when nothing came out. “Shut up,” she seemed to come up with, failing at hiding her blush while Xi laughed.

“Do you miss him?”

“A lot honestly…” She made a face. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all. You like him, it’s okay to miss him… Do you find it weird?”

“Yes. I find the entire thing strange. We went from never hanging out, to pretty much spending all of our free time together. And now I’m wondering, how’d I never noticed him before? It’s like one day he just appeared. And he’s so…”

“He’s so what?”

“Unexpected.” Kiri settled on. She sighed. “Did you know he told me he’s liked me for years? Years, Xi. I didn’t even notice. It took your sister one afternoon to pick up on it and meddle her way into creating this thing between him and me.”

Xi drew into the damp sand with her toes. The waters rolled in and covered her feet, erasing her artwork when it fell away. “Honestly? I’m not surprised you didn’t. I’m sure you’ve not even noticed your Awa’atlu admirer either.”

“What? Who?!”

Xilä jerked her chin towards Rotxo’s direction. The quiet man seemed to always appear wherever her sister-in-law was. He was currently seated nearby, whittling a spear whilst shooting not so subtle glances in their direction.

“Are you talking about Rotxo?!”

“Mmhm. He’s definitely got a crush. Very sweet too, don’t you think?”

Kiri stared at him with a tilt of her head, brows furrowed in thought. “Huh.”

Xi snickered.

A comfortable silence fell over them, where they both got lost in their own thoughts. Xi returned to appreciating her husband’s backside while Kiri pursed her lips as if forcefully trying to keep words in.

“Tasam said he’s going to ask me to court when we get back home.”

An audible click was heard when Xi flung her neck towards Kiri, mouth open in shock, then morphing into excitement. “And what did you say to that?”

“Nothing… and then I felt bad because there was a whole awkward silence moment happening while my brain went haywire. He told me not to say anything yet. He wanted me to take the time away to really think about it before making a decision.”

“Aww Kiri. This is exciting. Do you know what you’re going to tell him?”

“Not yet,” her sister-in-law replied, but there was no hiding the blushing smile she tried to rein in.

A splash had them both looking out at the sea again.

“Oh look, here comes, your admirer, and I’m not talking about your husband,” Kiri deadpanned.

“Hello beautiful,” Aonung called out, wading through the waters towards them with his and Neteyam’s catch for the morning.

“Stop flirting with my wife, skxawng.”

Aonung jogged ahead of him and sent Xilä a playful wink with his good eye as he passed.

“Better get out of here before he gives you a matching black eye, you fool,” Kiri taunted. She followed after him then broke off and headed towards Rotxo who’d beckoned her over.

“I really still can’t believe you punched him, ‘Teyam. You’re not boys anymore. You use your words, not your fists!”

“I did warn him though. He’s the one who decided to keep flirting with you,” her husband shrugged as he made his way closer. “He knew he had it coming.”

“Handsome! He only does it to piss you off. You could just ignore him. You know that right?”

“I like my solution better.”

“Of course you do.” This man never ceased to amaze her.

Like an insect to a flame, when he got in reach, Neteyam’s hands crept under her shawl and immediately found her belly, fingers trailing over the smooth firm skin.

“Hi,” he whispered in greeting, ignoring her exasperated expression and kissing her anyway. “How’s my little Sprout doing today?”

Sprout gave a big kick as if awakened by the sound of Neteyam’s voice- as if saying hello daddy!

“Quiet until now. Our baby always knows when it’s you.”

That made him happy.

“What are you doing later? If you’re not busy tonight, do want to go on a date with me?” he asked with a wiggle of his brows.

Xilä pressed up onto her toes and looped her arms around his neck. Her bump prevented her from getting closer, but she made it work.

“Always… Will there be sex at the end?” she teased quietly.

“It’s on the list of activities, yeah.”

“Good. We haven’t done that in a while and I miss you.”

“It’s been only four days, Miss Greedy.”

“Exactly, it has been four days. I’m glad you’ve been keeping track. You’re the one who keeps putting off every one of my efforts.”

“Yeah, cause… baby, you’ve been so tired lately and- hey, don’t even,” he said, halting her objection. “Sprout’s been keeping you up a lot with all the kicking and you need to rest. So, I’m making sure that you do when you can. Even if it means, no sex sometimes.”

Xilä stared up at him for a long minute- taking her time to roam over his facial features. “I love you. What did I do to deserve you? I must have done something right- something big.”

“Stop.” He was trying so hard not to blush. “I hope you remember you love me the next time you want to rip my head off for simply breathing too loud.”

“That was one time.”

He raised an amused brow as if saying really, babe?

“To be fair you have been behaving ridiculous lately. Actually if we’re checking, pretty much since you found out we’re expecting.”

“When have I ever been ridiculous?”

“Are you kidding me? I have a whole list of instances, but if you want more recent- You tried to ban me from hanging out with Spider and Lo’ak just this morning at breakfast!”

“Because the idiots wanted you to go with them to explore Cx’ove Creek!” he hissed. “Who in their right mind invites a pregnant woman to go exploring a srakat infested water cave for fun?”

“I told you already, they were just being nice and simply offered. I wasn’t actually going to go! You didn’t have to be so bossy about it.”

“But I thought you liked it when I was bossy?”

She turned flustered. “Well yes, but-”

Neteyam silenced her with a kiss. Then another when she was about to protest and one final one before she finally gave up trying to argue. “I love you too by the way. Are you hungry? Have you had your second breakfast yet?”

She shook her head with a grumpy frown, eyes following him when he squatted in front of her.

“I think your mama’s mad at me, Sprout,” he whispered to their baby, kissing right where felt a poke, “but don’t worry, I’m going to feed you both and then I think we should all take a nap, and that means you too. Can’t keep waking her up every night, alright?”

They both grinned at their baby’s nudge.

“Alright,” he said, getting up, “time for second breakfast.”

Second breakfast. It made her chuckle every time.

When Jake had picked up on her habit of having another meal after breakfast and before her first lunch, he started calling it “second breakfast” which was some sort of inside joke between him and Norm.

They tried to explain the movie where the joke came from. There was something about a quest and a ring and a creature called a hobbit?

And although it went over her head, second breakfast stuck.

Their final two months at Awa’atlu flew by, bringing many changes along with it.

The majority of the other clan leaders and clan representatives had by now returned to their homes, but for the Sully company, they’d stayed the longest. Jake and his team’s roles were far too important for the massive project they’d started.

What they had accomplished was far from simply great- it was incredible, completely world changing. They had gotten the clans of Pandora to come together. Uniting them in a way that was marked as historic.

With Norm’s guidance, a temporary form of communication between all clans was successfully up and running. It also aided the new system they were trying to implement for the sharing of resources which was finally underway.

And thanks to it, Neteyam was able to secure a safe solution for his wife to return home…

The moment he saw her, the man’s jaw dropped. His grin broadened at the sight of her midsection. “Well look at you, kiddo!” Stephan laughed as he gently hugged Xilä. “The bump suits you, doll. Congrats, darling.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, proudly, hand automatically running along said bump. “Nice hairstyle, it suits you,” she replied, taking in his new-do. The sides were shaved and the hair in the middle was short and spiky.

“Much more me, right?” he winked, moving forward to their packed things to grab up three overstuffed satchels in one hand and a wrapped heavy net in the other. She’d gotten Aonung to organize the specially crafted gift for her last week- she couldn’t wait to give it to Yalnïk.

Neteyam and Lo’ak had just strolled into the marui when she awkwardly tried to bend to pick up a bag with the intention of following after Stephan. A belly bump made simple everyday tasks difficult sometimes, she was still adjusting.

Her mate was quick to tell her off however, mildly scolding her for even attempting to lift anything.

Xilä huffed. “We’ve talked about this, Neteyam. I’m not an invalid. At least let me help carry something out to the ship.”

“Here.” He handed her a small pouch of seaglass stones she and Tuk had collected which made Lo’ak snort when Xilä shot her husband an unimpressed look.

He took off with his own armfulls- the large case he’d brought his weapons in, a thick rolled up pelt and the last three satchels that held their belongings.

“Four more months. Just four more months,” Xilä sang to herself. “Have I told you that your brother is driving me crazy, Lo’ak?”

“Only two or three times a day since you told us you were expecting,” he teased.

“Ugh! Everything is don’t lift that, don’t go there, that’s too dangerous, my baby shouldn’t be eating that, eat this instead, you should rest, you should sit, you should sleep! Eywa! If I didn’t love the man…”

“Hey, don’t look at me for help. You’re the one who willingly chose him as your mate. You knew what you were getting yourself into…” His playful words fell away as he stared at her. “I’m going to miss you, XiXi.”

“Don’t do that, Lo’. You’ll make me cry. Do we really have to do this now?”

He clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

Xilä took one final glance at the now sparse marui before Lo’ak led them out onto the bouncing pathways.

“I’m going to miss you too, you know. You’d better not hold any blessing celebrations over you and Tsireya without me.”

“Nah. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. After that stunt Neteyam pulled with you, mom would kill me in a heartbeat, and Tsi’s parents aren’t people I want to cross either. Even grandmother threatened me on our last call. She wants to meet Tsireya in person before I officially ask Ronal and Tonowari for their blessing.”

“I get it. You’re bringing her on your visit in a couple of months right?”

“Yep. So you better not have that baby until we arrive.”

“I still can’t believe you’re moving out here. I am so happy for you, though.”

Lo’ak stopped and pulled her in for a hug, being extra careful not to squish her belly. “Hey Xi? I don’t think I ever apologized… but I’m sorry I was such an asshole the first time we met. You’re hella awesome.”

Xi hugged him a little tighter.

The beach was crowded that morning- much like it had been on the first first day they’d arrived. Many Metkayina surrounded Stephan’s ship, all awed and fascinated with the odd metal, bird-like aircraft.

From Xilä’s viewpoint she could see the eccentric Avatar giving a couple of the younglings a tour through the wide glass windows at the front of the ship.

This was it. It was time to return home.

Her and the Sullys’ goodbyes were bittersweet.

Awa’atlu had been their home for the past six months. She had formed deep connections, friendships and had grown attached to the sea and all the beauty that came with it.

“Take care of him for me, will you?” She overheard Neytiri asking Tsireya as they embraced. “He can be a handful sometimes- too stubborn for his own good, but he really is the sweetest boy.”

“Are you sure that contraption is safe?” Ronal interrupted, to ask Jake who was chatting with Tonowari. “I don’t know if it’s any better than your tempered ikrans. It doesn’t look like it.”

“It’s safe,” Jake assured. “They did a lot of repairs on the ship in preparation for this trip. Xilä and the baby will be well protected.”

She gave an unimpressed hum, but said nothing else on the matter. Her expression softened when Xilä approached to bid her goodbye. “You better bring that baby with you next time you visit. I can already sense your child will be destined for great things…”

Xi was finishing making her rounds when a voice called for her.

“Are you not going to say goodbye to me, beautiful?”

“Aonung.”

“Tsk. Aw come on Xi- I’m hurt, wounded,” he joked solemnly- palm over his heart.

“Take care of yourself, okay? I mean it.”

His smile fell a little. “I’m going to miss having you around. It was sure fun riling up your husband… I never did get to fight him again.”

A chest plastered against her back and she automatically leaned into it. “Yeah, cause you know you’d lose again, you skxawng,” Neteyam teased from over her head with a possessive palm to her round tummy.

Xi shook her head, highly amused- there they went again.

She was really going to miss this place.

Xilä’s reunion with her family was a joyful one. Welcomed home with open arms and all the love they had to give, she knew she made the right decision to come home.

Returning to the forest eased Xilä’s worries. It was safety, it was warmth and love. It was… home.

And although they’d been gone for six months, she and Neteyam had settled back in quite quickly and were able to return to their routines just like before.

She resumed her studies with Mo’at, eager to share all that she’d learned from the metkayina and Neteyam returned to his duties as a high ranker, along with all the other responsibilities he had under his belt.

What was most exciting was catching up on how much she’d missed out on.

Kah’lee and W’aote were on some sort of weird break where they weren’t talking but would still have the occasional “fuck session.” W’aote apparently was ready to settle down, but Kah’lee wasn’t- which was strange because before Xi left for Awa’atlu, it was the other way around. Kah’s hesitancy to officially court him sparked an argument between the two, thus creating the weird separation.

Leati and Ze’lu however were going strong. The female warrior loathed public displays of affection but Ze’lu appeared to be a stage five clinger- Kiri’s words, not hers. The man was completely in love and would smother his woman in affection despite her grumpy, lackluster protests.

Xilä personally thought they were a perfect couple. He calmed her bitchiness and temper tantrums and she brought him out of his shell. It was the perfect balance.

The twins' development, however, amazed Xi the most. They were toddling around everywhere now, and always chatting up a storm in a mixture of baby babbles and their ever growing learnt vocabulary.

They were also both fascinated with her belly bump, especially whenever Neteyam was able to coax a big movement from Sprout- tiny little hands patting her with excited squeals.

And speaking of babies. Xi and her husband had done a lot of preparing for their little one’s arrival. Xi had never sewed as much as she did before- Sal was a big help in that department.

Meanwhile Jxo and Neteyam did a lot of upgrades and rearranging of their tent in their spare time. Jake had pitched in too, only he called it baby proofing.

Her father had also built them the cutest little cot she’d ever seen… It was very similar to the ones he did for his first two grandbabies- and yes, she did cry when he gifted it to them.

Since finding out that they were going to be parents, the mated pair were eager to absorb as much information and advice from those closest to them. And sure, they would have the support whenever they needed it, but they wanted to learn to do as much of it as possible on their own.

As she neared the end of her pregnancy, Xi had grown increasingly miserable. She couldn’t move as fast as before. Her bump prevented her from certain tasks, her feet ached all the time, she could never find the right position to sleep in and quite frankly, she was just about ready for Sprout to move out.

Neteyam was another matter entirely.

Four weeks ago, Mo’at had instructed her that she was supposed to be taking it easy- an instruction her husband was all too eager and diligent in making happen…

He’d become increasingly overbearing and overprotective of her throughout her pregnancy. It seemed as if as her baby bump grew, so did his possessiveness.

He snapped at anyone who so much as breathed too much in her direction. It was probably worse than his clinginess back when she’d been rescued from Li’ona.

Suffice to say because of said behaviour, it was no surprise when he and the women of their family butted heads a few times.

Sal and Neytiri had to keep reminding him that pregnant women were tougher than they looked. He and D’avi also got into far too many bickering matches whenever he hovered and lingered during their “sisterly bonding dates”.

Kiri and Mo’at simply found Neteyam’s behaviour amusing- Xi was sure she’d never seen the grandmother so entertained before.

And when Xilä had finally met her twelve month mark- due date coming and going, there was no baby. She was a week overdue now and felt uncomfortably massive.

“Why doesn’t the baby want to come out,” she whined.

“You’ve made too good a home for your little one it seems,” Mo’at joked mildly as she ran her hands over the stretch of Xilä’s skin, fingers pressing down to feel the baby’s position. “We shall have to do some coaxing then, hm?”

“What kind of coaxing?” Neteyam asked quickly.

“Have her take a walk. She can try some char’mille tea, heavily spiced herb broth, perhaps a warm bath and sex.”

Xilä knew the list of suggestions, and yet even as the Tsahìk voiced the last one, her cheeks still tinged lightly. Her mate seemed unaffected though. He nodded seriously and asked his grandmother a couple other million questions- like he always did whenever they came in for a visit.

Is it normal that her boobs are already leaking milk?

When will they know for sure she’s in labor?

Do they need to wait until her waters break or until the contractions start before coming in?

How painful will the birth be for her?

Was there anything he could do to ease it?

Fingers interlocked and propped up on her bump, Xilä relaxed as best as possible while her husband went on and on with question after question.

Midway through their visit, he handed her a leaf wrapped snack that appeared from nowhere- some thinly sliced nectar coated meat placed between two sari cakes with mashed teylu and diced shrooms. Not the most appetizing thing to anyone else, but it was all she livid off of for the past week.

Xilä smiled at her husband’s attentiveness and dug in without needing to be told.

“And I know I’ve asked already, but are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for her during the birth?”

“Your role is to support her. The moment is all about her… and then all about her and the baby. She needs calm. You soothe and encourage her through it all. That’s it. If you can’t do that then you stay outside the birth room… Now, any other questions?”

“Yes. What-”

This boy! Mo’at huffed and shot Xilä a half amused, half frustrated expression. “Are you sure you want him to stay during the birth?”

“What do you mean? Of course I’m-”

“I’m not asking you, ‘Teyam… Xilä?”

“I wouldn’t want him anywhere else,” she smiled.

They’d tried almost everything.

But no amount of tea, or broth, or walks or baths did anything to nudge their little Sprout out of her.

She was too uncomfortable for sex, so only when nothing else on the list worked and she was just about at her wits end, did she finally decide to give lovemaking a go.

“You’ll have to do all the work. I’m not moving a muscle,” she groaned.

“We don’t have to do this, you know.”

Xilä could cry. “Well we’re going to have to! I want the baby out already, ‘Teyam! I’m so uncomfortable. My skin feels stretched to its limit, my boobs feel like they’re about to explode. And there are parts of me that hurt, that I didn’t even know could hurt like this! I don’t want to do this anymore. Please- just please do something! And why are you standing so fucking far away?!”

Shit! “Alright hey, hey. I’m here, baby.” He climbed into their hammock beside her, sensing a mental breakdown. “Sweetheart-”

“This is not sex,” she frowned when he cuddled her into his arms.

He tried not to smile. “Let’s take a breather first, yeah?”

She nodded and blew out a gush of air. “I’m sor-”

“Stop,” he whispered against her lips. “Just relax, sweetheart.”

He hummed the little tune he’d started singing to Sprout whenever he got too rowdy while his large palm soothingly ran over the curve of her belly. He prepared her with tiny kisses wherever he could reach from his position and sent silent prayers to Eywa to ease her discomfort.

“‘Teyam.”

“Xi.”

“I have to pee… again.”

He kissed her forehead. “Okay. Let’s go.”

After helping her to her feet, they probably only made it a couple steps before Xilä stopped with a gasp. A gush of liquid escaped her- it coated her inner thighs and rolled over her calves and ankles as it fell to the floor.

“Was that-”

“My waters broke,” she said, staring dumbstruck at the puddle at her feet.

The room was too crowded.

Neteyam was itching to throw them all out and with every passing second, every glance towards anyone who wasn’t his wife, his patience grew thinner.

They were nearing the fifth hour since Xilä’s waters broke. Her contractions were slowly growing more frequent now, and it was killing him every time he saw another wave of pain hit her.

Seated between his raised thighs, he felt her body tense up again. She moaned through gritted teeth and desperately squeezed his forearms while the pain consumed her for a couple seconds too long for him, before her shoulders slumped and head fell backwards as she panted.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered against her temple.

She gave a shaky laugh in response.

“Do you want me to take over, ‘Teyam? You can go stretch your legs for a bit and-”

“No.” He winced at his tone and shot his mother-in-law an apologetic half smile. “Sorry. But no, I’m good, Sal. I’m not going anywhere.”

Five minutes later, his mother came and asked the same damn question.

Ten minutes after that, D’avi offered to sing Xilä a “calming song” she thought would help sooth her.

Neteyam knew it was their custom to have a “village” present for a birth… but this? This was too much.

Why couldn’t they wait outside with the men- as well as the shocking mass of clan members who’d shown up to give their support?

That damn song made him reach his limit.

The singing, combined with the not so soft chatter from Leati’ and Kah’lee seated in the corner of the tent, Sal and Neytiri’s bustling around the small private quarters Mo’at had set up for them as they made arrangements and Kiri and Mo’at’s ingredient tinkering- he’d had enough.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“How mad at me would you be if I kicked them all out?”

Her head moved against his shoulder.

“What? Who?”

Even with sweat slicked hair and heated flushed cheeks, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“All of them? Except grandmother of course.”

Xi turned and took in the room’s activities. Her stifled anxiety quickened so she quickly glanced away again.

“You can say no.”

“Honestly? It’s crowded. I won’t be upset if you ask them to leave,” she admitted. “I love them all and I’m glad they’re here to support us… but it’s just…”

“Overwhelming right?”

She nodded, feeling a wave of guilt consume her.

Reading her all too well, he brushed her jaw with his thumb. “There’s nothing to feel bad- or be sorry about. They’ll understand.”

Xi internally debated asking D’avi to stay. But if she was being honest with herself, she wanted this moment to be between her and mate.

“Wait”- she stopped him before he could move- “do it nicely, okay? I don’t want any of them to think they’re a problem.”

He kissed her neck and promised to be nice about kicking out everyone before he got up.

Sal looked ready to put up a fight with him but with one glance at her daughter who Mo’at was helping through another contraction, she relented.

The women understood- thankfully.

Both mothers showered Xilä with kisses before they left and assured they’d be a call away and just in the next room giving up prayers of their own.

In the quiet dim space, Mo’at’s chats shifted in waves of highs and lows. Xilä’s wails however, overshadowed them.

“No more. No I can’t. I CAN’T do thi-” Xilä broke off into another cry that Neteyam helplessly tried to sooth.

“Xilä, breathe.” Mo’at patted her thigh and waved another round of spiced smoke from a lit herb bundle.

“‘Teyam,” she whimpered through never-ending tears, breathing heavily in pants she fought to control.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He brushed away the stubborn strands of hair that kept getting stuck to her forehead. “You’re doing so good. Almost there, baby.”

Her chin wobbled and she licked her chapped lips.

“Tell me what to do for you. What can I do?” We wished he had the power to take away her pain.

“Tell me a story?”

He couldn’t help the breathy chuckle that escaped him. It had been a while since she’d asked for one of those. Lips to her temple, he tasted salt. “What kind, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. Any? I just need to hear your voice. Please?”

“Okay, I got you,” he soothed. “I’ll tell you about the one that changed my life, yeah?”

Her head fell forward when another contraction rolled in- back arching away from him. Her fingers bit into the flesh of his thighs that bracketed her own. His palms ran over her sweat slick skin- shoulders, arms and the backs of her hands whilst soft cooed words fell from his lips.

Only when it was over and she sagged against him- fatigue dripping heavily with another plea for him to talk, did he start his story.

“It all started on what I thought was a random day of the worst year of my life. Nothing was going right and so much was weighing heavily on me. I decided I needed to get away for a couple day, so I went on a solo hunting trip to blow off some steam.”

He ducked to check on her. Her eyelids half closed while she stifled a whimper.

“I caught nothing though, couldn’t focus- I kept missing my shots. On my last day, after catching nothing again, I was just about to head back home when a woodspirit distracted me. And then I heard a sudden scream- a gut wrenching and skin chilling one at that. So I followed it and I found this odd little cloaked thing running from a nantang. They tried to climb a tree to escape, but they slipped, and fell.”

Xilä’s heart thudded in her eardrums… She knew this story.

“Anyway, after I took care of the beast, I approached the hooded and masked stranger. They blinked up at me for a second, with- with the most incredible eyes I’d ever seen, before they blacked out. And when I pulled the mask away”- he made an approving pleased sound- “the stranger? Prettiest thing I’d ever laid my eyes on.”

Mo’at’s chants grew quieter as she continued to waft smoke in Xi’s direction- it helped her calm somewhat.

“Anyway, I didn’t know it at the time, but I made the best decision of my life by taking her home with me… After an order from my dad, I had no choice but to spend time with this gorgeous creature every day, and you know what?”

Xi’s eyes closed. “What?”

“It was pure torture,” he whispered in her ear, making her snicker with a moaned wince.

“So then what happened?”

Neteyam bent and nuzzled her cheek, palm coming to rest on her stomach. “So, then I fell in love with her… and by some miracle she loved me right back.”

“And then?”

“And then I claimed her as mine, and she claimed me as hers… can you believe that? She became my mate. Mine.”

Xi peered up at him- pure love and adoration shining through her pain stricken face. “And then?”

He wiped the tear rolling down her cheekbone. “No… and now… and forever.”

“Xilä,” Mo’at called. “It’s time to push.”

“‘Teyam… can’t-”

“Shhh. Come on baby, what am I always telling you? Hm? You’re strong- you can do anything.”

“It hurts,” she whimpered.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. Lean on me, sweetheart, I got you.”

Their baby came into the world with a hearty cry. Wails almost deafening but Neteyam laughed in glee- eyes prickling at the sight of the tiny wrinkly blue creature Mo’at placed on Xilä’s bare chest.

A boy. A son.

“Neteyam- oh ‘Teyam, look at him. He’s-” Xi grinned through her tears- pain forgotten, “he’s perfect.”

Neteyam couldn’t keep his eyes off of their little Sprout. “Holy shit.” He was here- their baby- their son.

Arms over Xi’s he gently cradled his baby’s head. “So much hair,” he marvelled.

“It’s dark like yours, handsome.” Xi couldn’t move her eyes away- too busy trying to absorb every single detail.

Index finger extended, Neteyam touched his son’s palm, and when his teeny tiny fingers closed over the digit, his heart melted.

Their son’s cries turned to whimpers as Xi soothed him and he looked almost annoyed as he blinked up at them through half opened eyes before they closed again.

“Hi precious, I’m your mama. Hi, aren’t you the sweetest.”

“I think he’s got your eyes, baby. I caught a flash of silver.”

Xi took a damp cloth from Mo’at and began to clean their son- removing away as much of the waxy type substance that coated his skin.

Mo’at eventually took over after ensuring Xi was taken care of. The elder handled their baby with expertise. He began to fuss while she checked him over- gums, tiny tail, pointed ears and queue.

The grandmother failed to hide her sniffle and misty eyes, voice soft in her whispered prayers to Eywa.

“He’s okay?” Neteyam was itching to have their baby back.

“Perfect. A healthy baby boy.” She handed the crying infant back to his mother and he instantly quieted. She gently cupped Xi’s cheek. “You were amazing, darling. Congratulations to you two.”

“Thank you, grandmother. For everything. Thank you.”

Little Sprout gave an unhappy coo, and like a natural, Xi arranged him in her arms and helped him find her nipple. It took a couple tries and whispered coaxing but the instant he latched, he was hungrily suckling.

Neteyam stared at the two of them, entranced and amazed- unaware when his grandmother snuck out to share the news with the rest of their family.

He kissed his wife’s temple, with whispered words of praise- telling her how proud he was of her. She met his lips with hers for a brief moment and with her own I love you’s.

After she shifted their baby to her other breast and he had his fill, she gently burped him, cooing a soft good job when he did.

“Ready to hold him, handsome?”

He nodded eagerly and shuffled out from behind Xilä, accepting hands comically larger in comparison to their infant.

Was it possible to love someone wholeheartedly after knowing them for less than an hour?

His mate was right, their son was perfect.

Nestled in the crook of his arms, their baby yawned, tiny fists clenched against his cheeks, knees drawn up against his tummy.

Neteyam’s heart could burst. Happiness consumed him.

“He looks just like you. Just like his daddy.”

The resemblance was startling, he thought. A mini him.

Xi peered at the second love of her life, head resting against her husband's bicep. “I don’t think any of the names we picked out suits him, and as much as I think it’s a cute nickname, I’m not calling our son Sprout.”

“You’re right… we’ll figure it out though.” He kissed the top of her head. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Do you ache?”

She nodded, fingers gently touching her son’s tiny toes, they twitched and Xi thought she’d just about burst into tears. “Yes, but I can bear it. I can’t believe our baby’s here with us now. I’m so happy, ‘Teyam, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Me too.”

Sprout shifted and made a soft noise in his sleep before settling- tail giving a slight flick against Neteyam’s hand. He truly couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

“Our families’ are going to go crazy, they’re gonna love him. They’re probably going mad over waiting so long as well,” he joked.

“Let them wait,” Xi sighed, the pad of her thumb tracing a delicately soft cheek. “Let’s just be together a little longer, yeah?”

Neteyam smiled in agreement. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

This chapter was soooo difficult to write & edit, I hope you all enjoyed it anyway!

First things first, yes, that was the last chapter- but WAIT. There will be a two-part epilogue. One- a slice of life after the birth of little Sprout and Two- a couple years after that.

PS. I still haven't settled 100% on a name for Sprout, so you can still send suggestions. Also, for girl names too (since they may or may not have another baby/babies in the epilogue).... (Who am I kidding, of course they will) LOL!

Okay, now cue the waterworks...

Thank you, THANK YOU to everyone of you who've followed me on this journey. Safe Haven is so special to me and I have enjoyed sharing it with you all.

Every read, every like, every comment, every suggestion and idea- just know I appreciate them all!

This community has been so welcoming and the response to a newbie writer like myself is profound.

As always, please share your thoughts :)

Tags:@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@granddearduck@riatesullironalite@strawberri-blonde@earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop@blkmystery@neteswife@luvteyams@isnt-itstrange@erenjaegerwifee@faatxma@ivysully@bakugouswaif@pinkpantheris @mntx666@ironcaptainnataliabarnes

#neteyam #neteyam x oc #neteyam avatar #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully

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srngrque · 6 months

Note

maybe a jude bellingham x curvy/plus-size reader?🥹 never seen any of those

hihi, i am so sorry for being so late. :" i do want to write more for all my curvy readers out there but here is a beginner attempt of mine, thank you so much for your request.

all of me. — jude bellingham.

jude bellingham x curvy/plus-size reader. fluff. peak into a life with lover and love.

Tuesday morning had to be the absolute worst in university. With back-to-back lectures from nine in the morning to six in the evening, you were burning out as you barely had the energy to get out of bed yet your eyes fluttered open at seven, it was as if your body knew your schedule and you still were not used to it.

So, you slept in.

As your head bubbled with guilt, your body cried for help. So you gave in to what your body asked for. To conclude, here you are: in your small single bed that was perfect for one, one being yourself. However, your boyfriend had another plan to occupy your space in the most literal sense, as he laid his head on your chest.

The silence was comforting knowing the person you love the most is within an arm reach. "You really skipped class today." He mumbled against your skin, rather than a question, it was a statement. Almost amusing on how confused Jude was with how long you have been rotting in your bed instead of panicking away to class. "I am proud of you actually." He stated, staring at you, his chin resting on your chest.

You hummed, softly thanking him. Letting out a deep breathe, you gently played with the ends of his hair finding an odd sense of solace within him.

"God, your tits are very soft." He commented, going back to burying on your chest. Your breast has been on the more fuller side and Jude had enjoyed holding every curve that your body embodied with grace, clothes that wrapped around your soft pouch stomach to your thick thighs. Jude was in adoration every moment he got one step closer on knowing you and your bodyline that had various of hidden temple of meaning within.

You finally cracked up, throwing your head back at his random comments. "Yes, like since tits are really pretty much your very own pillow." You smirked. Jude sat on the bed furrowed his eyebrows, jokingly snorted in disbelief. His face in complete confusion, "Uh, more like your tits only."

He shrugged his shoulders, and smiled like a good boy waiting for a small little pat on his head for doing a great job. You laid on your bed grinning ear-to-ear on how lucky you have gotten that even with this overly complicated lifestyle, there is really a boy who would do anything to make you smile brighter, laugh harder and keep your heart warmer.

You sat up on the bed facing Jude, your hand reached both of his warm cheek as you forcefully pulled Jude to lay on top of you. His firm hand held onto your thighs as leverage to not fully fall onto you.

The smile never leaving your face, neither was his. "God, Jude. I love you so much, I hope you know that because I will remind you till the world goes down to hell." You softly mumbled on his lips.

He groaned loudly, hiding his face on the crook of your neck furiously shaking his head. "Are you just saying you will stop saying you love me if the world goes to damnation? Then I better join iro-" You punched his stomach at his absurd way to ruin a moment.

"I love you so much." He whispered against your skin, again.

#jaehymrkwrites #judebellingham #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham scenarios #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x you

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swagammemnon · 4 months

Text

Caught in Honey

Prev. | Chp 2. | Next

Ao3

Summary: Welcome home :)

I did not proofread this because I wanted to get it up tonight. I am so desperate to be domestic and in love (and fucked like a filthy whore), so now you get to read this. :D

Getting you cleaned up equated to John dragging a chair into the bathroom and squaring it with the shower stall door, ready to watch the show. The openly appreciative attention, heavy eyes framed by bushy brows and a smug tilt of his chin, always made you blush, a little self-conscious. You work a taxing job, and as much as you love training at the gym, some days are too much. Some days all you can handle is a nap and some comfort food. You’re muscled, but you have a tummy. A roll here and there that makes you frown in the mirror. But John sits like a bear, comfortable and imposing with his knees spread wide, burly arms crossed over his chest. Eyes fixed on your every move as you tiptoe into the shower. Like he’s re-memorizing you.

Like you're his next meal.

You shiver, turning to quickly shower before John decides you’re taking too long and joins you. Then nothing would get clean. You think you catch him palming the bulge in his pants through the steam of the shower but when you step out, his palms are planted on his knees. His steamy haze is molten, burning a path from your flushed cheeks to freshly shaved legs.

You smile sleepily at him, the relaxation of the orgasm and the shower have you moving slower. Moving through a sweet warmth that's enveloped your body. Like you're caught in honey. He leans forward as you move, attention rapt on your face. That warmth bubbles in your chest as you skim your fingertips across the arch of his cheek. He’s returning that drunken little smile, leaning into your touch. You're rather hopelessly in love with this man.

Those bear paws take a swipe at you, looking to haul you into his lap, but you dance back, tsking with a tease. With your towel wrapped around your chest, you bend at the waist to grab the zipping black pouch from beneath the sink, smirking when you hear his quiet groan. Opening it, damp hair dripping onto your shoulders, you withdraw the grooming scissors and electric hair clippers.

Post-deployment ritual, one of them at least, another John started in the kitchen. But this might be your most favorite to perform once he returns. He tracks you like a hunter, attention undivided and intense as you swing your leg over both of his. Splitting your dewy thighs over his lap. It takes a moment for you both to settle, coming nose to nose with affectionate cat eyes even when John hisses at your damp heat perching on his bulge.

His lips part, chin tilting up in pleading question. You mirror him, smiling and tempting as your lips only barely touch. He complains by jolting his hips, small enough to keep you seated but noticeable enough for the complaint to be lodged.

“Hi baby,” you murmur almost drunkenly, leaning forward to rub your cheek along his, feeling the lush slide of his shaggy mutton chop beard. Mmm, soft. He conditioned.

“Hey, darling,” he grumbles back, a touch of exhaustion in the baritone, smile slightly loopy in the floating steam as his giant hands splay greedily on your hips.

“Missed you,” you whisper, pulling back to grab the comb and hair trimming scissors.

“Missed you too,” he rumbles, obediently sitting back for you to comb out his overgrown, furry beard. You've always liked the intimacy of this. Close enough for your breasts to press against his chest, to breathe his air, to feel his hands reacquaint themselves with you curves. Simply grooming your man in the liquid heat of a nice shower. Naked pussy spread over his clear and desperate want for you.

“Did you even trim on deployment?” you lovingly scold, cutting at least an inch of dark hair before the shape begins to look right.

“Mmnm,” he hums, eyes closed and neck loose to allow you to roll his face to and fro. “You do a better job.”

“Or you’re just lazy,” you reply, doing one last comb through.

“Or…” his hands suddenly take on weight, grinding his cock into your core in a delicious drag, “I like keepin’ ya here as long as possible.”

You chuckle in your throat, hooking his neck with one arm as you press your cheek to his once more. “Lucky for you, there’s a little while yet.”

“Lucky me,” he growls, his teeth catching the lobe of your ear. His fingers knead the flesh of your hips, digging into forever sore spots that John sniffed out early on. You groan, hips shifting as a ripple of tension releases from a muscle.

“John,” you whine quietly, heartbeat pulsing in your clit. His mouth moves to the corner of your jaw, the fleshy bit just below and latches on. A sigh escapes you, eyes fluttering closed as you bask in the moment. You press that throbbing firmly into John’s lap, shivering when he meets you with a slow rock of his half hard cock.

“What, pretty girl?” Playing clueless. Like he can’t feel the fucking furnace between yor thighs. Like you can’t feel the stiffening dick beneath you. He drags his tongue over your pulse, pressing butterfly kisses down the line of your throat.

“Let me finish,” you whisper, thighs twitching with another delicious grind.

“Finish, ae?” He takes a breath, nose buried in your nape. “Barely even touched ya.”

You grasp his chin, forcing his head back as you screw your own back on. It’s not fair how quickly this man can undo you. Mouth open with panting breaths, you stare down your nose at his self-satisfied smirk. Holding him hostage, throat exposed, you lean forward and lave the flat of your tongue up the length of his throat. John groans, like rocks in an earthquake, fingers digging bruises into your hips before you nip his Adam’s apple and pull away.

“You wish, baby,” you reply, bumping his nose with yours as you pull out the folding straight razor. “Now behave or I’ll draw blood.”

“Promises, promises.” His eyes glint but he remains still as you clean the edges of his beard into crisp lines that cut through his cheeks. Make him tilt back his head so you can shave away stragglers on his throat and consolidate his signature facial hair into neat lines at the top of his neck. In the meantime, John’s hands wander generously, his thumbs pressing into the long lines of your quads. Adventure back to your ass, roll the edge of the towel up as the callused tips of his fingers dip so close to your pussy.

“John,” you caution as his middle fingers spread your hole open, letting slick arousal dribble onto his fingertips. Your hand with the blade pauses, eyes fluttering as those fingers dip in to the first knuckle. “Baby, I literally have a knife to your face.” You gasp, shoulders tightening as he tugs you further open. “I thought you were a strategist.”

“I’m working a strategy right now,” he mutters.

“Is it…” you shudder, the stretch taking on a delicious ache, “is it working?”

“Mmm,” one expert hands creeps up, plucking the straight razor from your palm and deftly folding it, dropping it without a care. “I think so.”

You wrap your other arm around John’s neck, burying your face in his shoulder. Letting yourself fall into his eager hands. He hums in your ear, male and satisfied as he feels you bleed into him. Surrender to him.

You don’t mind it most days, revel it in actually, the responsibility of directing your own life. Having your own career, ambitions, passion projects, autonomy. But some days, it is nice to lay yourself in John’s hands. Let him care for you in the way he demands. It took a long time to get here–almost ten months into your relationship and you’d only recently learned to trust him with the vulnerable parts. With the reality of being cared for and doted on. Only just learned how to ask for help without having some twisted part of yourself cry weakness , attention whore , burden .

You’d been on your way to where you are now before meeting John, set back by your gut wrenching break up with your last ex, but there are somethings you can’t learn on your own. Some parts of yourself that you yourself can’t challenge. Someone else has to.

“Don’t go wanderin’ now, darlin’,” John murmurs, warm lips drawing awareness across your temple, the shell of your ear. “Stay with me.”

You wiggle further into his lap to show him you’re here, and John encourages you. Crushes your body into his chest in an embrace that has your eyes closing to soak in the press of him. Torn between sex and sleep, you float in a pleasant haze as John drags away your towel while his other finger sheathes inside you. Your ass tightens briefly at the invasion, the thickness of only one fucking finger inside of you after being celibate for the whole month deliciously virgin. You wanted to see how long you could last.

And be a little feral when your boyfriend got home so you could enjoy tearing into each other even more.

Adjusting to the finger is a sweet transition, a sigh escaping your lips as John’s free hand now eagerly explores the line of your spine. Wraps around your shoulder to push you down onto his finger. It’s beautiful as he curls it inside you, slow and unbothered as you both drink in each others’ scents. He mouths lazily at your naked shoulder, letting his teeth nip marks there as he works his finger into you. Pumping more arousal from your throbbing pussy.

“Were ya good while I was gone?” he mutters against your skin. The words roll a wave of heat through you, draining straight to your gut. Fuck, he knows your buttons too well. Can press them with the unerring precision of a veteran spec ops captain.

You nod, letting your mind slip away.

“Sweet girl,” he praises, smirk branding your shoulder as you tighten around him, “Did your little pussy get any attention? She’s all tight and soaking with jus’ a finger.”

You whine quietly, skimming your palm down his back, fingernails scraping over old scars and hard muscle as you pull at his t-shirt. Rolling your hips against him earns you a prickly groan.

“Tell me what you want, darlin’,” he whispers. His voice is too gravelly for the whisper to be true, the low tones scraping deliciously over your skin. When you try to answer, he slides a second, already slick finger in alongside the first, making you flex against him. Burying your face in the soft, shaggy hair at his nape. Fuck, even the scent of his soap, underlined with his own masculine uniqueness, has your head going fuzzy.

You try again, groaning as he seats both fingers to the knuckle. You’re already feeling so full, having been empty for a month , and his fingers can’t compare to the stiff length nestled against your clit. “You, baby,” you breathe, hips circling, “just you.”

John needs no more encouragement before practically jumping from the chair, leaving you to yelp and quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Giggling with your face in his neck, he strides to your bedroom with his hands planted on your ass. Technically, the apartment was still only yours. John had one closer to the military base, a sterile and sparsely furnished little thing that you would frequent more earlier in the relationship–when you didn’t want another man, or person frankly, in your space after everything that had occurred with your last relationship. Too many impressions of things out of reach, too raw and staining. You’d wanted to restore your home to yours before letting another in.

You’ve spoken of moving in together, officially, despite John practically living with you when he’s on leave in the first place already. But it hasn’t yet been a year, and you want to be… not cautious, but not stupid either. John, angel that he is, hasn’t pressured you at all. Especially since he already has his own drawer in your dresser and bathroom. The notion has been settling more comfortably in the back of your head though. You want him to feel like he has a home to come back to, not just a clinical one bedroom. You want him to feel welcome and safe , secure in the knowledge that it is shared space.

Being tossed onto the bed pulls you from your thoughts, sharply refocused on the ravenous glint sparking in your stupidly handsome boyfriend’s eyes. He’s ripping his shirt over his head as you squeeze your thighs together, skin burning under his perusal. Your hands ball into the sheets, goosebumps pouring from chest to calves as he catches your eye.

“Gettin’ shy on me now, darlin’,” he drawls, palms suddenly clapped around your ankles. You squeal as he drags you down the bed, butterflies filling your stomach at the easy display of strength. Then his imposing bulk is hovering over you, consuming your entire focus as his nose brushes yours in a contradiction of gentility. Those callused hands slide up the backs of your calves, slithering around your knees. “Still as beautiful as the day you caught my eye,” he whispers against your lips.

The unexpectedly tender praise has your face hot, hands flying up to cover it.

His chuckle is a scintillating rumble as he bends to kiss the backs of your hands, gently nosing them out of the way to press his lips to your nose. Then your cheekbones, your brow, your jaw, your—

He pauses, hovering over your beautiful, revealed face. “There’s nowhere you can hide, where I can’t find you, darlin’.” His smirk is sharp and dangerous, glowing in molten gold in the pit of your stomach. “There’s no escaping my clutches .” Your giggle is high, girlish and ridiculous as he snags your hips on the last word, pinning you to the mattress as he snatches up your lips. Teeth immediately tug at your lip, beckoning you in his lead. Following him off the bed with heated pleasure as he pulls away, only to have his bear paw clutch at your throat and pin you against the sheets. Mouth furiously pouring down your throat, roughing nabbing at nips of skin, leaving a sting that can only soothed with the cool flat of his tongue.

You cling to his back, fingernails digging into the flesh of his ribs, your pinky brushing the edge of a bandage. But he merely weighs down further, stinging his teeth insistently, commanding you to leave it alone. He’s safe. He’ll talk later. Hips roll down into yours, his clothed cock brushing shivers across your pussy like a paintbrush. Demanding lips part yours, plundering your mouth in a filthy, greedy take. Dragging helpless whimpers from your throat.

Your fingers scrape down his back, his shivers curling around your fingers like warm ribbons. Then you’re pushing at his sweatpants, teeth nipping at his tongue, your knees bracketing his hips with the threat of squeezing. You know he likes that—being trapped between your thighs, whether he’s fucking your little brains out or making a welcome home meal of your cunt. You whine when the tip of his cock catches the hood of your clit, stretching the flesh in an achy way that has you panting for more.

“Ya like that, darlin’?” he growls into your mouth, your fingers ripping at his waistband in answer. He does it again, dragging and aching enough to have you squirming when he does it again .

“John, please,” you plead desperately, managing to sink your claws into the cut curve of his ass, pants haphazardly shoved aside.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, pulling away only to close a rough hand around your breast. It’s still sore, sensitive, and you cry out at the sharply pleasurable kneading. “Beg, swee’art,” he commands, unwavering with no room for argument, “show me ya missed me just as much as I missed ya.”

Your body takes that as permission to tense in an all consuming shudder, new arousal spilling from your slit as your hands at his ass hold him there. Allowing you to shamelessly grind over his hard length. “Please,” you whimper, not a scrap of shame left in your body right now. You might regret this in the morning—wanton, weak, vulnerable —but in the moment, all your mind can focus on is getting John closer, closer, closer. You need him against you and inside you and around you, reminding you he’s alive and real and somehow keeps coming back.

“Please, please please pleaseplease,” you start to slur, knees tightening as he hurriedly shoves down his pants. Fucking finally freeing his weeping cock. There’s been a wet spot on his crotch since the kitchen, fuck. It’s heavy and girthy, slapping against your swollen pussy with a wet sound that has you jumping. Then he’s rutting against you like a horny teenager, mouth sloppy and hot as he retakes yours. Both of your sticky heats mingle together and you can feel his cock throb, tip catching at your clit. Repetitious and eye rolling, your hole fucking aching when the head notches.

“Oh, please,” you cry, tangling your hands into his hair and dragging him against your lips, keeping him close and real and warm. “Need you so bad.” It’s mumbled against his mouth, both of you pinching your eyes closed, lost in the sensation.

When he pushes inside, it’s tight, fresh and you’re squirming up the bed to almost retreat from the massive invasion but then John’s hand is shackling your hip to the bed, the other collared around your throat as his mouth eclipses yours. A full mouthed, sinful kiss that has your pussy loosening enough for John to slide in another inch with his insistent pressure. You both groan, swallowing breaths of fire, as his head is fully seated inside you.

Lips are warm and swollen, spit-slick as John rocks back, rocks forward and sinks far enough to rob you of breath.

“Oh, swee’art,” he croons, palm shifting from hip to below your navel. His thumb swipes at your clit with precision, a floodgate releasing as you toss back your head. Whine at how bloody sensitive he’s made you. “Did you even touch this pussy while I was gone?”

Breathless, your arm curls around the back of his neck, hips bucking up onto his thick cock. “N-no,” you stutter, planting a foot on the back of one of his meaty calves.

He tsks, humiliating and all too inviting. “My sweet girl, leaving her little cunt starved and wanton all for me.” He mouths at your throat, curving down to suck a nipple into his mouth. You tense, a low keen leaving you as another ripple has John’s cock sinking deeper. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna carve the shape of my dick back into you.”

It feels like a slowed down bell toll, John’s hips retreating, sloppy and wet noises assaulting your ears as your pussy sucks at his length. Then he’s driving his hips down, force feeding you the whole length of his cock. Hard enough you can feel it in your fucking guts, his mushroom head kissing your cervix. Your jaw is frozen slack in a silent scream, breath caught in your throat as a terribly sweet ache pulses through your skin.

“Just breathe,” John reminds you, breaking the haze and you drag in a deep, shuddering breath, hiking one knee over his hip. “That’s my good fucking girl.”

He starts slow, deliciously indulgent as he draws back, his tip barely kissing your twitching hole before he’s sliding endlessly back into you. Forcing you to take all of him with one smooth stroke. You keen, mouth slack and a magnet for John’s thumb on your bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh down before you close your mouth around it. John growls like a sated beast, burying his nose against your ear as he draws long and deep strokes. You moan around his thumb, planting your feet on the bed to deepen the angle.

“Missed ya,” he pants in your ear. “My darlin’, missed your little pink pussy, missed your bouncy tits, that cock drunk smile, the way you smell so fucking sweet. So fucking good for me.” He’s babbling in your ear now, hips determined and slow, grinding himself as fucking deep as he can on each pass.

“Fuck John,” you whine, his thumb sliding from your lips across your cheek, “Right there,” your voice goes high, “right there, right there, baby.”

Your core seizes, a mind numbing ripple so close to the peak but not quite touching it. With one hand still tangled in his hair, you score lines down his already scar-littered back, body squeezing as a thrust jolts your entire fucking womb.

His hips slow, taking long, languid strokes into your cunt. Driving straight into the patch of spongy nerves that lights your skin on fire. You whine as one of his meaty hands digs into the flesh of your thigh and guides your knee up, up, up. Folding your leg over his shoulder, opening a deeper angle that has you whimpering on every stroke. With the new position, your arms fall back, a hand clawing into the tight muscle of John’s shoulder as he plows into you. You clap your hand over your mouth, embarrassment heating your cheeks as control over your voice bleeds away.

John has none of it, smacking away your hand and bullying his thumb back into your mouth. He presses down on your tongue, forcing your mouth open to allow every pathetic little noise he pulls from your chest to tumble into the room. Drool pools and slides down your cheek, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Haven’t heard your pretty songs in weeks, darlin’. Don’t you fuckin’ dare hide ‘em from me now,” John growls, teeth sinking into the muscle along your shoulder. You choke on your scream, cunt cinching deliciously as his orders slick through your blood. The man was meant to be a captain; commanding his second nature. An order falling from his lips making your knees weak and skin tingle.

He’d had to earn that submission though—too many bungling assholes and disappointments had left you guarded. But when the two of you had become more comfortable in your relationship, John—perceptive bastard—had figured out you struggle asking for your needs to be met, struggle with feelings of guilt and selfishness when the question even leaves your lips. His entire countenance had shifted. Laser focused as he would latch on to the slightest hesitance in your voice or flighty gaze.

He’d grab your chin, bully you against a wall with his bulky frame and order you to speak. Even if it was just a whisper, spoken into the fabricated safety of his body pressed into yours. A secret, safe space where no one but you and him could hear what would fall from your lips. He’d pour honey in your ear and stuff fingers in your cunt as reward. Ordering you to come to him with your every want and need.

Because you were his . His to love. His to care for. His to fuck brainless.

All so that John could issue nearly humiliating orders to kneel on the bed and spread yourself open for him to rip away every single thought in your head. Learn you well enough he could practically anticipate your every desire with militant precision. A spec ops team captain through and through.

His hand spans your throat now, pinning you in place as his hot breath blows against your ear.

“Ya look so pretty like this, my little slut. Wet ‘n sloppy f'me. Aren't you just such a gorgeous girl?”

More filthy nonsense, John's tone losing focus as his hips slow. Movements torpid and deep, jostling your womb with redolent waves of heat. You can feel your orgasm teetering on the edge, brows pinching as your mouth slackens around a silent moan.

“I know you're close, pretty girl,” John seethe in your ear, eager and feral, “touch yourself for me. Show me just how much you missed my fucking cock in your pathetic little cunt.”

You lock your legs around his waist, muscled thighs trapping his hips against your dripping heat. Tugging almost viciously at his hair tangled in your fingers, your other hand wiggles between your bodies. He growls at the sting of pulled hair, thumb catching your chin and tilting your chin to the side so he can lick a hot stripe up the exposed line of delicate throat.

Your thighs squeeze his waist in the slightly mean way you know he likes, and you're rewarded with his cockhead pounding into your poor cervix. Thrusts aborted but cock reaching, reaching into your guts. Grazing your fingers over your squishy, swollen clit has your hips hitching into John’s dick.

“Tha’s it, tha’s it,” John chants mindlessly, driving in over and over, powerful arms cording around your back. Locking you against him like a useless ragdoll as he chases his high. “Fucking come f’me, darlin’,” he commands, guttural and raw. Your fingers circle your clit faster, moans knocked out of your throat like a mallet against a bell. “Go on, come for daddy.”

Fuck, that does it.

Your orgasm knocks into you with the force of a bullet train. Ripping muscle from bone as your back arches, fingers working in pure reflex now and a scream curdles in your throat. Your hips jolt up into John's without your consent, driving high spikes into your orgasm as it crashes through you. Your fingers snap tight in his hair, yanking viciously enough that John moans in a delicious tenor.

“ John ,” you cry, fingernails scoring your brand into his skin as your entire body clamps down around him, crushing him against you as his strokes turn sloppy and truncated. Your heartbeat pulses in your clit, little pussy throbbing with wave after wave of pleasure. There’s no grace to the way your thighs shake around John’s hips, locked tight in place.

His words are muffled and husky against your skin, searing into your bones. “There ya go, swee’art.” A broken sob falls from your mouth as his hips flex into yours, shoving into every corner of your abused cunt. “ Fuck , good fuckin’ girl, pussy milkin’ my cock.”

His filthy words only string out the sickly writhing of pleasure in your womb, tears dripping down your temples as he wrings out weak, staccato moans. A final snap of John's hips and you shudder at the spill of wet heat deep inside you. His thick arms band tighter around you, like he's pinning you in place, forcing you to take every drop of seed he has to offer. He groans in your ear, masculine and satisfied. As he collapses down, he rolls, taking you with him.

You end up sprawled across his chest, his arms still locked tight around you. As though he could bear to part from you now the fucking is done. He's always loved the post high skin to skin. And so have you. Aftershocks rattle through your body, and John holds you through your little whines, humming and shushing you as your muscles twitch.

“I’ve got ya, swee’art,” he whispers as you haltingly stretch out, melting into your stupidly wonderful boyfriend. He presses a kiss to your wet temple, cradling the back of your head. Finally, the tension releases and you fully drape along John’s chest.

Your mind drifts pleasantly as the orgasm floats through your body like smoke. Lazy and curling, invasive. Happily, cat who got her milk, you rub your cheek over John's lightly haired chest, taking your combined sweaty scents deep into your lungs. Letting it settle your mind.

You almost purr at the wide splay of John's hand on your lower back, knuckles of his other hand now meandering over your spine.

“I’m really glad you’re back safe,” you whisper, blindly sliding your hand up to draw your fingers along your cheek.

“Always do, lovie,” he replies. You hum when he paws at your ass, kneading the thick muscle. “‘Missed ya.”

“Missed you.”

After eating the dinner that John had so thoughtfully prepared, the two of you end up on the couch. You’re laid out along the length of it, and your big bear of a boyfriend is sprawled face down between your legs. His face buried in your stomach with his arms wrapped beneath your thighs. There’s an old movie playing on the television but you knew John’s attention wouldn’t last. For all the effort he puts in to his return, despite your insistence on letting you take care of him first, he always collapses like a dropped stone.

As much as the post-deployment fucking is delicious, you always enjoyed the calm afterward.

Carding both hands through his thick hair–still in need of a trim–you pay more attention to the way his breathing slows than the television. A big, warm, weighted blanket that kneads the backs of your thighs. He hums and groans gently as you rub your thumbs into the stiff muscles of his shoulders and what you can reach of his back. You giggle as his teeth nip at your hip. A little flutter winging through your stomach as he kisses the skin over your womb. But his movements turn sluggish, cheek settling over your navel. His lips parting as his mouth goes slack.

Your own eyelids droop peacefully with the quiet chatter of the movie, and smile when John’s quiet snores vibrate against your tummy. They’re soft, almost non-existent. He’d told you he used to snore like a chainsaw, but then his nose got broken for the sixth time and then magically his car motor turned to whispers. Which was good, because if he snored more than the quiet noises now, you’d have suffocated him in his sleep. Or re broken his nose yourself to fix it.

You like watching the lines of his face relax, taking in his bushy eyebrows and freshly touched up beard. He only put his sweat pants back on after a second shower, so you have a skyline view of the bulging back muscles and angry red lines you scored into his flesh. There’s a little drool pooling on your skin, but you don’t have the heart to move or jostle him to wipe it away.

Sometime between your movie’s exposition and the climax, you fell asleep, only to be woken as John’s lifts you into his arms.

You hum, smiling as you tuck your face into his neck.

“Hey,” you mumble.

“Hey, love,” he says, padding into your bedroom. He kisses your temple before saying, “Come meet my mates tomorrow.”

That makes you pick up your eye, blinking up at his shadowed face. You knew going into this relationship his work was private by trade, confidential. And by extension, his colleagues. He’s told you about them, his teammates, how intrinsic they are to him. How stupid they can be. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz. He told you they were all callsigns. You never pressured him to meet them, and he reassured you that you would eventually. A confidential, barely documented spec ops team was typically very private, its members a bit skittish. And with the timing of the deployments they’ve had to go on since you and John started dating, there hadn’t been a good time to meet them. It was eerily similar to how your last boyfriend had been, a military man in a specialized unit—maybe you have a type.

While this request is quite random, it isn’t unexpected.

So you beam up at him, nervous flutters twittering in your stomach even as you press a kiss to his cheek. “Okay.”

John makes a pleased noise, kneeling onto the bed with you cradled against him. “Okay.”

Mind spinning with excitement, you let John cuddle you to sleep, trying to paint pictures of what sort of creatures these elusive mates might be. If John is anything to go by, and his stories, you have a few cats to herd in your future.

Let me know what you think here and on Ao3!

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avastrasposts · 1 year

Text

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 35**

I wrote this while on holiday so any mistakes I blame on sun stroke and cocktails! This is the second to last chapter! I'm not ready! Chapter 36 will be the last chapter and then I've got an epilogue planned. How will I say good bye to these two!? Please enjoy what's left 😭

Series Master List

Chapter 36- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 10.4k

The night passes quietly, and you watch the sunrise over the eastern horizon across the river while Frankie sleeps in the tent with baby Jack. As the sun starts to warm up the cool prairie air, you make some breakfast, dreaming of the days you could have coffee, and hear Frankie stir as Jack begins to cry. You listen to your husband soothe him, and with a pang of longing you wonder if Frankie makes the same soft cooing sounds for Jack as he did for Lucía. Frankie had told you years ago that he’d been petrified when Lucia was born, he’d been in such a bad state and not able to enjoy having a baby girl. But he’d grown into such an incredible dad by the time you met him, it was hard to imagine him being anything but a proud doting father.

The zipper of the tent slides open and Frankie crawls out, Jack held tight to his chest with one hand. The boy is staring up at Frankie’s beard and as you watch, Frankie carefully gets to his feet and smiles at Jack, dipping his chin low enough so that one chubby little hand can come up and grab at the scruffy hair.

“Ouch, you little scoundrel,” Frankie chuckles, “you’ve got some grip in those tiny hands.”

You smile and hand Frankie a bowl of ravioli as he gently sinks down next to you, “Careful, he’ll give you another bald patch,” you tease and Frankie rolls his eyes at Jack.

“Listen to her, going after my poor beard now, as if she doesn’t love my bald patches.”

“True, I do love them,” you lean forward and press your lips to the one on his right jaw, “pull harder, Jack.”

The baby gurgles happily in Frankie's lap, reaching up for the beard again.

“I’ve prepared some food for him too, I cut up the ravioli,” you pick up the bowl, “do you want me to feed him while you eat?”

“No, I’ll do it, if you wanna pack up the tent?”

“Sure, I’ll pack up,” you give the bowl to Frankie and you can’t help but smile as he takes it, barely looking at you as Jack grabs his finger and blows a spit bubble. In all your years with Frankie, in an increasingly hard environment, you’d never have guessed that a little foundling baby would be the thing that made your husband melt into a puddle.

As you take down the tent and roll up the sleeping bags you listen to Frankie talk to Jack, an endless stream of baby nonsense. When the baby swallows the last bite of food, Frankie praises him, gently wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. As you put Frankie’s pack next to him, he wraps Jack into the makeshift kangaroo pouch and ties it around his chest.

“I’ll take him, since you carried him all day yesterday, rest your shoulders today, cariño,” he says, adjusting Jack’s legs.

“Are you sure? You’ve got a pretty heavy pack,” you say, slipping one of Frankie’s socks onto Jack’s head to protect him from the sun.

“Yeah, if you take the rifle today it’ll be fine.”

…

The three of you keep walking west, the endless prairie slowly giving way to more hills and trees. Far off in the distance you can see the high peaks of the Rocky Mountains, impossibly high in the clear air. At the end of another long day of walking you’ve climbed up, away from the prairie and into low hills that slowly stretch up towards the high mountain range to the west. While you rested at midday you’d actually managed to run down some sort of chicken, it looked fairly domesticated and Frankie guessed that chickens must’ve escaped from farms after the outbreak and multiplied. Whatever it was, you managed to wring its neck without getting too squeamish and hang it from your backpack.

You feel like you’ve crossed all of Wyoming on foot when the sun finally starts dropping and nothing worth noting has crossed your path since you left the pick up, no infected, no people, only animals in the distance. The farms and houses you’ve passed have been empty and mostly looted, people have passed through here before you but it’s impossible to know when. You realize finding Jack’s uncle will be like finding a needle in a haystack, if the group he was with even got as far as Wyoming, it seems unlikely you’ll meet anyone out here and maybe that’s for the best..

At sundown you make camp a mile from the road you’ve been following. It’s far enough away from anything that Frankie risks a campfire and grills the bird you’d caught whole. Even Jack can eat the tender meat when you cut it up and he even seems to enjoy it.

“I’ve been looking at the map,” Frankie says, bringing it over to the campfire so that you can see, “and I’ve got a couple of options, tell me what you think.”

You lean into him as he spreads the map out onto the ground in front of you. “There's a place up here, about five miles from the road.” He points to a spot on the map, “It’s got a small river running next to it, the mountain on one side and this open valley on the other side. It’s marked as a private ranch on the map key. It could be what we need. But there’s another place,” he moves his finger and points to a place much further north, “it’s another twenty miles into the mountains, up this valley that we’re in.”

“I’m guessing there’s a good reason why you want to walk another twenty miles?” you say, looking at the long stretch of land that lies between you and the spot Frankie’s fingers is resting on.

“Yeah, this place is a small hydroelectric dam. If we get there I could probably get it up and running and we’d have actual electricity, heating, hot water.” He looks up at you with an excited smile, “I was thinking about it today, even if it doesn’t work now, I could fix it somehow and the place is so remote, it’s bound to have all the equipment needed on site. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s only another half days' walk, with a potentially huge reward.”

You look at the dam location, tucked away at the river mouth, a few miles from the main road. Plenty of fish in the lake probably, and open land full of game, provided you’d be able to craft something to hunt with.

“It looks like a better location than the ranch, but probably a bigger risk of infected, if the people who worked there didn’t get away.”

“Yeah, that’s the main drawback,” Frankie says, “we’d have to be very careful clearing it out.” He’s tapping the map thoughtfully before he looks up at you. “It’s up to you completely, if you don’t want to risk it, we go with the ranch, live settler style. Maybe that is the better option, safer for now at least.”

“The dam could attract other people too, if they have the same idea as you,” you say and Frankie nods.

“Yeah, there’s always the risk of other people too, although, so far Wyoming seems pretty empty to be honest.” He folds up the map, “We’ll sleep on it, see how we feel tomorrow, we could just go check out the ranch first, it’s almost on the way.”

Behind you Jack shifts and begins to cry and you pick him up, tucking him into your arms.

“I’ll set up the tent and take the first watch, cariño, see if you can get him to go back to sleep.”

“He’s usually asleep by now, maybe he got a tummy ache from the food,” you stand up and start rocking him the way you used to rock your nieces when they were babies. The thought makes you wince, over the years you’ve come to terms with all the people you lost when the outbreak happened, your parents, siblings, friends. But sometimes, when you do something that reminds you of them, it’s like touching a piece of glass inside your chest and the cut is fresh. Gently bouncing on your feet you try to remember how old they’d be by now but you get stuck, in your mind they’re forever little girls, just slightly older than Lucía.

Jack just won’t settle, his cries cut through the still night, no matter how much you and Frankie try to soothe him. Even Frankie’s beard goes untouched, the tiny fists clenched hard as Jack wails in Frankie’s arms. It feels like he cries for hours, sleeping is out of the question, you can’t shut your ears to Jack’s crying and you’re starting to worry that anyone or anything in the vicinity will hear and come to investigate.

“Give him to me,” Frankie suddenly says, handing you the rifle, “I had an idea, my abuela once told me I had tummy aches as a baby every time I’d eaten and she’d hang me over her shoulder.” He gently takes Jack from you and hangs him, belly down, over his shoulder. His large hand holds Jack steady as he gently begins to rock on his feet and you walk around his back so that you can see Jack’s face. He’s still crying but as Frankie moves back and forth he seems to calm down a little.

“Keep going, I think it’s working,” you say and Frankie starts walking circles around the fireplace while you keep watch around the campsite. There’s a new moon in the clear sky and you look up at the thin sliver and all the bright stars. You’ll never get over how bright they really are once you’re out in the countryside. When the world came crashing down it took a long time before you had the peace of mind to sit in the dark and look at the sky. It wasn’t really until you were out on the boat, sailing from New York, that you’d noticed them again. Now you search out familiar constellations and find the North Star. Behind you Jack is finally quiet, you can hear Frankie gently humming a lullaby you don’t recognize.

“Arroz con leche me quiero casar, con una señorita de Portugal….” and he hums a few notes, the words forgotten, before you hear him sing again, “Con esta sí, con esta no, con esta señorita me caso yo.”

You turn and smile at him and you hear a branch snap behind you, fear shooting through your veins like ice. Your heart drops into your stomach as you swing round, raising your rifle towards the sound, you suddenly see several shadows moving in the corner of your eyes. You hear Frankie rush up behind you, his back against yours as he turns and scans the dark forest.

“Lower your guns, there’s more of us than you,” comes a man’s voice from in front of you as several people step into the light of the campfire, guns raised. You can see at least five of them, and from the footsteps behind you, at least another five you can’t see.

“Lower your gun, cariño,” Frankie says, his voice low, “and take Jack.”

You give Frankie a scared look as you lay your rifle on the ground and take the baby from him, tucking him into your arms, one hand protectively cradled over his head. Frankie raises one hand and slowly pulls his gun from the back of his pants with the other, laying it down on the ground.

“Step away from her, five steps back,” the man barks, jerking his head at Frankie.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Frankie says, “We’re just passing through, the baby was ill.”

“Step back,” the man snaps, taking a step forward and raising his gun, aiming at Frankie. You look over your shoulder at Frankie, he gives you a small nod.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, slowly backing away from you.

“Have you been around any infected?” the man asks and behind him you see a woman stepping forward, a German Shepard on a leash.

“We haven’t seen anyone since we left Nebraska,” Frankie says, “no people or infected.”

“If you’re lying the dog will sniff it out and rip you to shreds,” the man keeps his rifle on Frankie and nods to the woman to unclip the dog. It growls and runs over first to you and sniffs around your legs before padding over to Frankie and doing the same. Satisfied that neither of you are infected, the woman whistles the dog back..

“We’re looking for a man named Jack,” you say, before the man with the rifle has a chance to decide what to do next, “We found his sister in Nebraska, she’d escaped from slavers with her baby boy,” you nod down at baby Jack in your arms. “She was dying and asked us to find her brother and bring her son to him.”

You see how the woman with the dog and the man exchange a look, a blink of recognition, before the woman speaks up.

“The woman, her name was Julia?” she asks and both you and Frankie nod.

“Yes!” you exclaim, “Do you know her?”

The man with the rifle holds up his hand but the woman answers anyway, “Did she say what Jacks’ last name was?”

“No...” you hesitate, “she only said the boy’s name is Jack Connolly and that he was named after her brother. He was heading to Wyoming with a group of people.”

“We were heading for White River,” the woman replies, “Jack, his last name was Connolly too, was with us until two months ago. I’m sorry, but he died.”

“We didn’t know him,” Frankie says, “and we didn’t know Julia either, but I’m sorry to hear he died. It would’ve been nice to bring baby Jack to his family.”

“Juan,” the man with the rifle says, looking at a man somewhere in the tree line, “don’t let them move, I need to talk to Maria.” He motions to the woman with the dog to follow him back into the trees, out of earshot. You glance over at Frankie who’s still standing five steps away from you and he gives you a small smile, but you can see the concern in his eyes.

You look back down at baby Jack, sleeping in your arms now. You had been thinking about the possibility of not finding his uncle, and then you and Frankie would have to take care of him, but it had been a vague ‘what if?’. Having a child of your own with Frankie had never been an option ever since the outbreak, not even in the relative safety of Arlington or Boston. But taking care of an orphan child who really has no one else, that seemed like a very easy decision to make when you were faced with it. But Jack was never yours, you were only taking care of him until you found his family. But now? If his uncle was gone, you felt responsible for him, for the promise you’d made to his mother. Looking down at him, you couldn’t help reflecting over how strange it felt to suddenly be an adoptive parent of this little boy.

The man and the woman called Maria come back through the trees and wave Frankie and you over.

“Alright, I’m Patrick, this is Maria. Sorry about the curt welcome committee, we can’t be too careful about people out here.”

“Yeah, we get that,” Frankie says, taking Patrick’s outstretched hand. “I’m Frankie and this is my wife.”

You shake Patrick’s hand and then Maria’s, giving them your name.

“You seem like decent people, and you have Jack’s nephew to care for, so we’d like to give you two options,” Maria says, looking between the two of you, “We have a settlement not too far from here, you’re welcome to come with us and seek shelter. We’ll have to confiscate your guns until we know we can trust you and we’ll expect you to help out with whatever you can. If you don’t like it, you’ll be free to leave whenever you want.” She looks at you and then down at Jack sleeping in your arms, “But I think that once you see how the community works, that you’ll be able to keep baby Jack safe, you’ll want to stay,” she smiles at the little boy, as he stirs in his sleep, his little hand waving free from the blanket. “He actually looks like his uncle, does he have blue eyes too?”

“Yeah, he does, big blue eyes,” you smile, looking at Jack and tucking in his arm again.

“So what do you think?” Patrick asks and you glance over at Frankie, it sounds almost too good to be true, but if this is the group Jack’s mother wanted you to seek out with her son then maybe it’s worth a shot.

“What’s the second option?” Frankie asks.

“We leave you to fend for yourself out here, no hard feelings. But we would prefer it if you came with us. Every person we leave out here is a potential infected down the line.”

“But we’d really like you to come to Jackson with us, especially seeing as you have the baby. Jack was a good man and we’d like to make sure his nephew is safe,” Patrick says and from the corner of your eye you see several of the other people nod.

“Can I talk to my wife in private for a minute?” Frankie says and Maria nods and steps back a little with Patrick. Frankie takes your hand and you walk to the other side of the fire.

“What do you think, cariño?” he asks in a low voice, his fingers threading between yours.

“I think it might be worth the risk to trust them,” you say, “They seem genuine.”

Frankie nods, “I think it might be our best chance at getting to a safe place, even if our plan was to get somewhere safe just you and me.”

“But with baby Jack, we could really need a community, it’s not just you and me,” you say, stroking your hand over the baby’s head. It’s only been a few days but you’re already feeling very protective of him.

“Yeah, and about him, with his uncle dead, I guess it’s on you and me to take care of him? Are we gonna be his parents?” Frankie looks down at Jack, you can see his eyes soften as gently caresses the rosy cheek with his finger.

“It’s not how I imagined this ending but I don’t think I could give him up now, could you? I feel responsible for him after what we promised his mother.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking the same,” Frankie says, looking back up at you, “So I guess we’re parents now and we go with Maria and Patrick? At least to check it out? Hopefully they meant what they said about us leaving if we don’t want to stay, but I think we can risk it?”

You nod and together you walk back to others.

“Alright,” Frankie says, “We’ll hand over our guns and come with you. We feel responsible for baby Jack and it seems you might be the option to keep him safe.”

Maria nods, “I’m happy you think that, I hope you’ll wanna stay with us once you see what we’re building.” She turns and waves forward a younger man, “Ned, get Winston please, if you can ride with Nellie on the way back these two can ride him with the baby. She turns back to you, “Winston is a very steady and gentle horse, he’ll keep you safe on the ride back.”

The horses had been left out of earshot of the camp and you’re delighted to see a small herd of them once you’ve packed up. Winston turns out to be a large bay horse who lets you reach up and stroke his soft nose while he nickers gently. Frankie swings himself into the saddle with ease and a happy look, giving the horse a pat on the neck. You hand Jack to him and Maria helps you hang your packs on the side of the saddle before you get on behind Frankie.

“All these years, Frankie,” you smile as the group sets out, “and I never knew you were such a cowboy.” You’ve got your arms around his waist, Jack is safely tucked into the makeshift pouch on his chest.

“My uncle had horses,” he says, “and he taught me how to ride, just haven’t done it in years, but it’s like riding a bike.” He clicks his tongue and Winston sets off, following Maria and Patrick’s horses. “How about you, are you ok back there?” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” you bury your nose in his soft shirt, holding on to him, “I was never a great rider but I know how to stay on at least.”

“Just hang on to me, cariño, Winston and me won’t let you fall.”

The ride back to the group's camp only takes a couple of hours, Maria and Patrick leading the way cross country rather than following the road. The sky lightens and Maria rides up next to you and points down a hill towards a large lake.

“That’s Jackson,” she says, “and that’s the dam we’re trying to get fixed. If we manage we’ll have electricity.”

“That’s the dam we saw on the map, cariño,” Frankie says, “We were thinking about coming here and seeing if it was fixable.”

“Do you know anything about how hydroelectric dams work?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows at Frankie and he shakes his head.

“No, not really, not more than the theory of it. But I’m used to fixing a lot of different things, I used to be a pilot before the outbreak.”

“I don’t want to get into it now, but we will have a conversation with the two of you later about what skills you have that can be useful for the community,” Maria says as the group rides up a large gate set in the wall surrounding the town. “But for now, let's get you settled, it’s been a long night for us all.” She waves to the men guarding the gate and someone on the inside pulls it open.

“We’ll put you up in one of the empty houses for now, we’ve cleaned them all out and there’s sheets and pillows in most of them.”

You look around you as the horses pass through the gate. The sky is light, the sun almost up, and it casts a golden glow over the western themed houses. Maria points down the street and you see a wood barricade at the end of it.

“Down there is the rest of the town, we’ve only walled off this smaller area so far, it was already a gated community so we built on the existing walls.”

“Is the rest of the town cleared of infected?” Frankie asks and Maria nods.

“Yeah, we had to do it bit by bit, but we cleared the last house a month ago. But it’s outside the wall so it’s not completely safe, we still get infected wandering in sometimes.That’s why we have guards and patrols to handle them and any potential raiders.”

She leads you to the stables and you dismount, Ned comes over and takes Winston’s reins.

“I’ll get him dried off, just go with Maria and get settled,” he says with a smile and Frankie slides off, one hand on Jack and then gives you a hand down. You yawn wide as you get down, the sleepless night is catching up with you as you feel safer.

Maria leads you to a small house near the outskirts of the gated community and opens the door.

“This will be your place for now, or at least if you decide to stay with us,” she says, motioning you inside. “There’s no food here, come to the mess hall for that. But try to get some rest first, there’s a crib for Jack in one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

“Thanks Maria, we’re very grateful for your help,” you say and she gives you a quick nod.

“I’m sure you’re hoping you didn’t make a mistake in trusting us, and I’m hoping we didn’t make a mistake in trusting you,” she says, “We’re a small community and we need decent people to keep this place safe and thriving, I hope my gut feeling about you two is correct.”

“It is, we’re just looking for somewhere good and safe to settle down, even before we found baby Jack,” Frankie says, “If you are who you say you are, we’ll be happy to help build the community.”

“Good, that’s great to hear,” she says, moving towards the door, “I’ll see you both later today, there’s firewood outback if you want to heat up water and clean up.”

With that she leaves, closing the door behind her, and you find yourself alone with Frankie in a house, a safe house, for the first time in years.

“Hermosa,” Frankie slides his arm around your waist, “you look dead on your feet, c’mon, let’s sleep before we do anything else.”

You nod, yawning big again and letting Frankie guide you up the stairs to the second floor where you found what looks like a master bedroom. The house looks well preserved despite all the years it’s been abandoned and there’s pillows and sheets with thick blankets on the bed. It looks very inviting and you groan at the sight of it. Sliding off your backpack you sit down on the bed while Frankie smiles at you, bouncing Jack on his arms. He’d woken up during the ride but now he’s yawning again.

“I’ll find the crib for Jack,,” Frankie says, “Just go to bed, cariño, I’ll be right there.”

You give him a grateful nod and start unlacing your boots and peeling off your clothes. Everything you own is grimy and unwashed but you find your least dirty t-shirt and change into it. As you pull back the sheets Frankie comes yawning through the door.

“The crib is in the room across the hall,” he says, “Jack fell asleep instantly but I left the door open so we’ll hear him if he wakes up.”

“Hopefully he’s as tired as us and we can get a few hour’s sleep,” you yawn, sliding into the bed as Frankie starts pulling off his clothes. It doesn’t take him long to climb in next to you. You yawn again and Frankie pulls you into his arms, tucking your head in under his chin.

“Sleep, hermosa, I think we’re safe here for now,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair and you feel yourself slip into sleep without even trying. The last thing you register is Frankie’s lips against your cheek.

When you wake up a few hours later you think for a minute that you’re in a dream. You’re warm under the covers, Frankie’s arm is wrapped around your waist and you can feel his shallow breaths against your neck. The bed under you is soft and a shaft of sunlight is filtering in through the closed curtains, hitting a painting of a mountain landscape. You let your eyes drift around the room and take it in as you slowly remember where you are; Jackson, a safe place at last.

Frankie stirs behind you, tightening his grip around your waist, “Morning, cariño,” he mumbles and pushes his nose into your hair, inhaling and kissing your neck.

“More like ‘afternoon’,” you smile, reaching back and threading your fingers through his curls.

“Mhmm…I slept like a log,” he rolls over and stretches out, pulling you with him so that you end up half on top of him. You lean your chin on his chest and trace your fingers through his scruffy beard.

“Me too, and it seems like Jack did too,” you mumble, kissing his chest as he strokes your hair. And right on cue, Jack whimpers from the room across the hall and begins to cry.

“I’ll get him,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed, “he’s probably hungry, it’s been hours since he ate.”

“I know how he feels,” Frankie mutters, “I’m starving, we should see if we can give him the last of the spagettios and then go to the mess hall Maria mentioned.” He sits up and shoves his fingers through his curls, making them stand on end.

While you get Jack and get him to stop crying, Frankie gets the camping stove out and heats up some food.

“Hey, look,” he calls from downstairs, “someone’s left some supplies on the porch.” He comes in with a bag as you bring Jack down. “Looks like some clean clothes both for us and Jack, and some diapers.” He holds up some reusable diapers, “they’ve thought of everything.”

He comes over to Jack and gives his little belly a poke, “did you poop your pants, little man? Yeah, you did, I can smell you.” Frankie chuckles as Jack giggles and squeals. “Do you wanna do food or poop?” he asks you with a grin and you immediately hand Jack over to him.

“Food, you’re on poop duty,” you reply, grinning back at him and Frankie makes a grimace.

“Knew you’d say that, cariño,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Too late now, Frankie,” you laugh and grab the last can of spagettios from his backpack.

Frankie starts cleaning up Jack as you warm the food and when Jack’s got a clean diaper on Frankie comes over.

“I was thinking about what Maria said before,” he says, setting Jack down on the counter and holding on to him, “About everyone doing what they can to help out this community.”

“You’re thinking about what they’ll say if you tell them about your background?”

“Yeah…” he trails off, watching Jack open his mouth for a first spoonful of pasta. “I’m not going to tell them about the PTSD or the drugs, it’s none of their business and I’ve got it under control. But if I tell them about my army background, they’ll want me to do patrols, and I’d like to do that, if you’re ok with it?” Frankie looks over at you, his eyebrows drawn together in that slightly worried look.

“I can’t imagine doing patrols and guard duty here is anything like what it was like with FEDRA, Frankie,” you say, putting your hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze, “And if you start feeling it, please Frankie….” you gently take his chin between your thumb and finger and give him a little tug with every word, “You’ve. Got. To. Tell. Me.” You look into his warm brown eyes and he gives you a crooked smile.

“I know, no more hiding things,” he nods, taking your hand from his chin and pressing his warm lips to your palm, “I promise, for real this time.”

“Good. Because we didn’t just go through all that shit and travel halfway across the country for you to do all of that again,” you smile as he pulls you in by your hand and leans his forehead against yours.

“I promise, I really, really mean it, no more lies, no more hiding, I’m going to be what you deserve now, cariño.” He dips his head and finds your lips, one hand still holding on to Jack who’s gurgling happily on the counter, the other slipping around your neck and holding you just as close as the little boy.

Once Jack is fed and changed you heat up some water on the old wood fired stove. The old house you’re in has a modern kitchen but both the living room and the kitchen have the old fireplace and stove and plenty of firewood stacked next to them. You light a fire and Frankie gets water from the hand cranked well outside. It’s not exactly a hot shower or bath but it’s warm water to wash in and you take the chance to wash some of your clothes too, hanging them to dry in front of the fire before you leave for the mess hall.

The mess hall is easy to find, it’s the largest building in the old gated community and used to be the community center. Someone has made a rough wooden sign and it hangs over the door of the western style building. Frankie holds Jack on his hip, his other hand holding yours as you walk down the main street towards the hall. You can’t help but glance at Frankie and Jack. It’s almost hard to believe the change that Frankie’s undergone in just a few weeks since you left Boston. The withdrawals had left him haggard and tired looking, and you know he’d struggled with the more psychological symptoms longer than the physiological symptoms. But traveling further away from Boston had changed his mood and with the added responsibility of Jack, a child to care for, you started seeing a version of Frankie that you hadn’t seen since before the outbreak. You don’t think he’s even realizing it himself but you’re seeing how he’s slowly turning back into the dad he was to Lucía, treating Jack like a son even though he might not be ready to see him as such. At least not yet.

Now he bounces Jack on his hip, tickling the boy's chin as Jack happily gurgles up at him and you see Maria smiling at the two of them as you enter the mess hall.

“Hey there, I was wondering when you’d show up,” she says, coming over and smiling at Jack who gives her a toothless grin.

“Thanks for the supplies,” you say, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?”

“Yeah, I thought you might need some things to feel a bit more human after traveling for as long as you have.” She gestures to a cantina set up at one end of the room, “Have some food and come and sit down with us.”

You grab some bowls of rich looking stew and say hello to the woman overseeing the cantina. She’s delighted by Jack’s gurgling smile and gives him a small bowl of fresh blueberries that she mashes up with some honey.

“Someone kept bees in one of the gardens before the outbreak,” she says, “so we now have a huge bee colony and more honey than what we know what to do with.”

You thank her and join Maria and Patrick at a table in a corner of the mess hall. The stew is warm and hearty, and you have to pace yourself or you’ll inhale it, hungry as you are by now. Maria and Patrick let you finish your food before Patrick leans forward and leans his elbows on the table.

“So, you seem like decent folk, but I’m sure you understand we’d like to know a bit more about you now that you’ve had a chance to see our community.”

You both nod and Maria looks at you, “Where have you come from?”

“Originally, when the outbreak happened, Arlington, a town down south. But we’d been in Boston for about five years by the time we left.”

“What made you leave? You’re a long way from Boston and it’s a dangerous journey,” Patrick glances between you and Frankie and Frankie answers first.

“Have you heard of a group that calls themselves The Fireflies?” he asks and both Maria and Patrick nod, “They were causing a bit too much trouble in the QZ. They blew up a guard station, a truck, and FEDRA responded as you can imagine, making life very difficult. So we decided to leave.” Frankie glances over at you and takes your hand and rubs little circles into your skin, “We met a year before the outbreak, she’s been my wife for over ten years and I wouldn’t have survived without her, luckily for me she was willing to risk it all and come with me when it became necessary to leave Boston.”

Frankie’s telling a truncated version of the story behind why you left but for now, there’s no need for anyone to know anything else.

“She used to work the civilian radio in Boston and we know the Fireflies are making trouble all across the QZ’s so at first we just planned to get away from Boston and find an isolated farm and try to survive on our own, how long that would be didn’t really matter, as long as she was with me.” Frankie continues to tell the story of your journey across the Midwest, ending with how you found Jack and his mother and how you stole the slavers’ pickup.

“We’ve heard about slavers from some of the people who have joined our community,” Maria says, “the outbreak really brought out the worst kind of behavior from certain people.”

“We’ll certainly make use of your radio skills,” Patrick says to you, “there’s a radio tower nearby that we haven’t managed to fix yet, we need to fix the dam first, but you might be able to help us with the radio when it comes time for that.”

You nod, “I can fix most things on the particular model we had in Boston, if we have the right parts, but Frankie’s the real fixer.”

“What have you worked with, Frankie?” Maria asks and you see Frankie inhale, there’s so much trauma connected to what he did both before and after the outbreak, and you take hold of his hand, squeezing it lightly, giving him your support, and you can tell both Maria and Patrick senses the tension.

“Before the outbreak I was retired from the army,” Frankie begins, trying to keep his hand from nervously shooting up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m ex special ops, Delta Force, I was a helicopter pilot, a soldier.”

You can see Maria and Patrick exchange a quick glance and Patrick nods, “I’m not gonna lie, Frankie, we live under constant threat of raiders and infected here, to have someone with your background on our side would be a great help.”

“I realize that, and so did FEDRA, they recruited me in exchange for letting myself and my wife stay in the QZ we got to at the beginning of the outbreak. But I didn’t stay with them for too long, their ways of doing things…” Frankie trails off and shakes his head. “So, we,” he glances at you, “did what we needed to do to stay alive. We both smuggled, got stuff into the QZ’s we were in both for our own survival and benefit. But we did good too, I hope,” he looks at you again and you nod.

“We did good, Frankie, you know that. We brought in medicine and supplies that FEDRA was denying the population.”

“Everyone here has lived under FEDRA rule,” Maria says and Patrick nods in agreement, “we know all too well what it’s like. I don’t judge you for being smugglers, as long as you’re good people.”

You feel Frankie tense up at the last words, but he bites his tongue as you squeeze his hand.

“We stopped smuggling a while back though,” he says instead, “I couldn’t handle the risk it put her in,” he looks at you and his eyes soften as you smile at him, “and then, when it got more dangerous, I didn’t want to risk leaving her behind alone if something would happen to me.”

“Well, we don’t need smugglers here, but we do need good guards and we all take turns doing guard duty or go on patrols,” Maria says, “We run this place like a commune, everything we have is owned by everyone, and we share the resources we bring in.”

“I’m in charge of the hunting parties,” Patrick says, “so if either one of you is a good hunter, let me know. We eat mainly meat that we trap or shoot, but it’s hard work feeding everyone.”

“Our crops are starting to ripen, we’ve worked hard all year to cultivate local crops and we hope to have greenhouses too at some point. But for that, we need electricity, so that’s our first priority,” Maria explains, “but we’ll give you some time to settle in today and I’ll show you around tomorrow.”

“Frankie, if you don’t mind, can I take you up to the dam tomorrow?” Patrick asks and Frankie nods.

“Yeah, sure, whatever works for you,” he replies, “If you’re ok with taking Jack tomorrow, cariño?”

You nod and Maria reaches over the table and strokes the baby’s hand, “We don’t have any babies here, yet at least, but we hope that Jackson will be safe enough for people to raise families in the future.” She looks up at you and Frankie and seems to hesitate, “I know you two accidentally became Jack’s caretakers, but I get the sense that you’d like to continue to care for him?”

You both nod, “We feel responsible for him now,” you say as Frankie puts a protective hand around Jack and smiles at him, “and we did promise his mom to keep him safe, at least until we could find his uncle, and with him gone, that feels more important than ever.”

“What happened to his uncle?” Frankie asks, looking up again and Patrick grimaces and shakes his head.

“It was two clickers, three of us were clearing out one of the last houses in Jackson, outside the gated community, and we'd killed three runners and heard nothing else. But they were inside a shed in the yard and came rushing out as we approached. Jack was unlucky, got bit as we took them down.”

“We’ve been here just over six months now and we’ve lost three good people to raiders and infected,” Maria says, “and it never gets easier. But we’ve learned a lot from each death, we’re safer now, better guarded.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Frankie says, “but you seem to have built up a good perimeter defense, judging by what we saw when we rode in.”

“I would love to have your eyes on it, Frankie,” Patrick says, “give us some advice on improvements.”

Maria gives a low chuckle, “Give the man a break, Pat, he’s been here all but two minutes and you’ve already commandeered his time.”

“It’s alright,” Frankie said, shaking his head, “No problem at all, if we’re staying here I’m more than happy to help out in any way I can to keep this place as safe as possible.”

“Speaking of staying then,” Maria says, smiling at you and Jack now, “why don’t you have a wander around Jackson, and see what we have to offer. It’s not big but I think it’ll give you an idea about what we’re trying to build here and we’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say and Frankie nods, shaking Patrick’s offered hand.

“Welcome to Jackson.”

It doesn’t take you long to see all of Jackson, the community is clearly very small but like Maria had said, you could see what they were planning. People were working on a number of projects around the small gated community and the park in the center had given way to crops that looked almost ready to harvest. The garden of one of the biggest houses has been converted into a stable yard and a stable is almost fully built up against the wall that surrounds the community. You say hello to Winston and Ned, who turns out to be the one responsible for Jackson’s horses.

At the furthest end of the small town is the slaughterhouse, where fresh game has been brought in by two women and hung up, the blood trickling from two white tail deer.

As you wander back towards the house you’re staying at, Frankie hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“This all feels very…normal,” he says, “like maybe they have a chance at making this work.”

“Normal, apart from the infected and the raiders?” you say, looking up at the high wall that surrounds the small community, guards with rifles patrolling at the top.

“Yeah, but Maria and Patrick seem to have the right idea about how to run this place, so maybe they can make it work,” Frankie glances around the small town, “It’s kinda like the settlers in the old west. You were somewhat safe in the towns but it was dangerous to travel outside them. The biggest problem with what’s happened after the outbreak isn’t the infected, it’s how FEDRA handled the situation.”

You’ve arrived at the house and Jack’s fallen asleep so you put him down and join Frankie out on the porch.

“So what do you think?” he says, pulling you down onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you think we should stay here and make a go of it?”

“I think so, Frankie, if you think you’ll be alright with patrols and guard duty?”

“Yeah, I think so…” he rubs his hand up and down your back, looking out over the small street the house is on, “It’s not for FEDRA, it’s for this place, for you and for Jack, to help keep you and this place safe.”

“I think you’ll be able to help them a lot too, you can use your skills for something that really makes a difference for this place.” You run your fingers through the curls at the back of his head, long enough now for you to wind around your fingers. Frankie’s looked away from the street and is looking at you, his warm brown eyes soft as he smiles up at you.

“And they have sturdy doors on these houses,” his hand has drifted up from your back to wrap around your neck and he’s gently pulling you closer to his lips. As you smile the pink tip of his tongue comes out and licks his plush bottom lip, you don’t even need to feel the bulge growing under you to know what he’s thinking about. You press your lips against his as he pulls you closer, his mouth opening to let you in with a low groan.

“Cariño,” he mumbles, “this is all I ever want,” his hand presses against your back as he deepens the kiss, “you and me in a quiet place where I can give you everything you deserve.”

“You deserve it too, Frankie,” you mumble, his hand tangling in your hair as his tongue slips in between your lips. You can feel him nod under you but you lose all train of thought as he bucks his hips under you.

“Fuck, hermosa…” he mutters, “we need to move inside or our new neighbors…”

You pull him up, take his hand and slip through the door while he wraps his arms around you from behind, kicking the door closed with his foot.

“Bring Jack upstairs and put him in the crib,” you say, as Frankie starts kissing your neck, pushing your hair out of the way.

“Do you really think we’ll make it upstairs,” he mutters, his hand already tugging at your t-shirt, slipping it under it and pushing under your bra.

“We have a kid now, Frankie,” you chuckle, “no sex in front of the baby.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he grumbles and pulls away from you, keeping it decent as he picks up Jack, carefully to not wake him, and follows you upstairs. Once Jack is safely nestled into his crib and the door closed but with a crack open in case he wakes up, Frankie comes into your bedroom with a smirk.

“You’re gonna need to be quiet or you’ll wake him and alert the neighbors, and I’m gonna make sure you really wanna scream my name, cariño…” he wiggles his eyebrows at you and you hold your finger up to him.

“Francisco Morales, you wouldn’t dare,” you wave the finger threateningly in front of him as he stalks across the room, making you back up until your legs hit the bed, his grin is lethal, all wicked intentions and mischief.

“Just let me take care of you, mi hermosa, mi amor de mi vida,” he croons, slipping his hands around your waist and gently pushing you back onto the bed, making you crawl up towards the top as he bends his head and starts kissing every inch of skin he can reach while peeling off your shirt, quickly followed by your pants. When his wide shoulders pushes your legs apart you groan and fall back against the sheets. You can feel his hot breath against your core as he settles down and grabs your thighs, kneading them and letting his fingers caress the soft skin.

“Frankie,” you sigh, reaching down and threading your fingers through his curls.

“Fuck…” he grumbles, “I’ve missed this, this sight, this smell, cariño, you’re so fucking sweet,” without warning he dips his head and runs his tongue through your folds, a long deep lick that ends at your clit. The sensation explodes through your nerve endings and you arch your back up, pressing your hips against his mouth.

“Did you miss this too, hermosa?” he chuckles, looking up at you from between your thighs, a smirk on his face, but before you get a chance to answer he dives back down, tasting every part of you as his nose circles around your clit but never really touching. The teasing makes you moan, canting your hips up against him and he pins you down with an arm over your middle.. When he slips in two fingers you’re already on the edge, with a whimper you cry his name, trying to keep your voice down. He pumps them slowly, curling them back as his lips seal around your clit. You glance down at him and he’s got his eyes on you, his black eyes are glowing as he watches you pant, your body taught as a bowstring.

He lifts his head slightly, his mouth hovering just over you and every one of his breaths sends tremors through your body.

“Come on, let me feel you come on my mouth and then I’ll fuck you, I wanna feel you around my cock so badly, cariño, you have no idea how hard I am…” he grinds his hips into the mattress, dragging the tip of his tongue over your clit again. His words and his eyes, still burning up your body makes you groan, barely able to keep looking at him. As his lips close around your clit again, ramping up the pressure, you throw your hand over your mouth, biting down hard on your lip as you moan. When you fall over the edge his fingers almost stop moving as you spasm around them but the rough pads keep pushing you through every wave that crashes over you. Frankie doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking over your clit as heat courses through your body until every muscle in your body relaxes and you fall back against the bed.

“So fucking good, cariño,” Frankie moans, trailing sticky kisses along the soft skin of your thighs, moving up to your hips, resting his head there and looking at you as he caresses your skin.

“Come up here and fuck me then, Frankie,” you mumble, reaching down for him and he groans, hiding his face against your hip, sucking a mark into you, making you hiss under him. His tongue comes out and soothes the mark before he sits up and quickly pulls off his shirt and pants before crawling up the bed, hooking his arm under your knee as he goes. He’s painfully hard and weeping, you can feel him drag over your leg, the contact makes him exhale sharply and he grabs his cock firmly. He slides the tip through your sensitive slick folds as he bends down and slips his tongue between your lips. You feel the familiar stretch of him as he pushes the blunt head into you, forcing your knee up higher and grinding his way deeper.

He gasps as you involuntarily clench down around him, “Bebita…fuck…so tight..I…I can’t fucking move…” With a deep groan he pulls out a little before slamming in deep again, making you bite down hard on your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Your arms come up around his neck and pull him down closer as he begins to move in earnest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and moves in and out, slow at first but soon he picks up pace, groaning over you as his own high draws near. The familiar tingling is building inside you again as he hits a spot deep inside and he can feel you starting to tremble around him.

“C’mon…please…again, hermosa, fuck…” he pushes himself up on one elbow and looking down at you, his sweaty curls hanging over his forehead as his hand slides down and grabs your hip, “I’m…fuck…” he drops down with his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezing shut as your climax explodes through your body and you feel him follow, grinding deep. Both your moans mix in the air, all attempts at keeping quiet forgotten until you collapse on the damp sheets.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his face against your neck, “I came inside you, is it ok?”

“Yeah, I would’ve stopped otherwise, I forgot to tell you it was ok,” you mumble, kissing his damp forehead and pushing back his curls. As you start caressing his hair, scratching his scalp he snuggles deeper into your neck and sighs contentedly.

“I missed this so much, cariño,” he mumbles, ��you and me, a bed, nothing else.”

“And a sturdy door?” you smile as his arm comes up around your body, his hand resting on your breast as his thumb lightly strokes across the nipple.

“Yeah, a sturdy door with a lock,” he nibbles at your neck, pressing light kisses along your jaw until he settles down again, humming under his breath.

“I wish there was some way we could let Will and Benny know about this place,” he says after a while. “It’d be good to have them here if they could make the journey.”

“Yeah, I miss them, and Eve and Diana,” you sigh, “and I think Maria and Patrick would love to have two more ex Delta Force guys here.”

Frankie rolls over, pulling you with him so that he can pull your back against his chest and wrap his arm around your waist, “We’ll keep an eye out, maybe we’ll figure something once we fix the dam,” he kisses the back of your head, tucking you in under his chin, “sleep now, cariño.”

…

Patrick comes by next morning and knocks on the door as you’re finishing up breakfast. Frankie grabs his pack and leaves after giving you a kiss and dropping a peck on Jack’s head. He makes you smile when you hear him give the baby instructions to behave and be a good boy for tu mamá .You hadn’t even thought about yourself as his mom, Julia was still his mom, but you guess Jack would have to call you something once he started talking, and Frankie seemed to have settled on mamá for now. It made your heart warm to hear his affection for the little boy, finding him and his mother had maybe been very lucky for you and Frankie, as well as for baby Jack.

For the first time in years, Frankie didn’t feel worried about leaving you behind as he left and went outside the safety a wall entailed. Jackson felt safe, not just because of the wall, but because of the people on the inside. He glanced back up at the gate as it closed behind him, it looked strong and sturdy, and the guards on top were alert.

Patrick, or Pat as he asked Frankie to call him, had brought a group of men and women on the short ride across to the Jackson dam. As they rode Pat pointed out how they’d started building a wall that would circle around the dam structure too.

“That way we won’t have to worry about raiders cutting the electricity once we get it up and running, or infected getting in,” he says, “both possibilities are something we have to take into account whenever we go to the dam now. We have to clear the dam compound every time.”

This time there’s nothing in the building or around it, and Pat leaves three guys to keep watch on the wall over the main entrance.

Together the crew looked over the different components and Pat explained to Frankie what parts they’ve been having problems with. It took them the better part of the day to figure out that something is blocking one of the mechanisms deep inside the dam, then another hour to find the right maintenance hatch and get it open. The tell tale sound of a clicker comes up from the deep hole as they wrench the hatch open. Ladders, however, seem to be something, infected can’t handle so it’s not too much of an issue to shoot the poor dam worker through the head as he scratches against the wall under the hatch. For good measure Frankie and Pat toss a few rocks into the maintenance tunnel and lower a flashlight to lure out any remaining infected. When they deem it safe enough Pat carefully climbs down while Frankie and another man, Walter, cover him.

“Alright, all clear down here,” Pat’s voice comes back up from the tunnel and Frankie climbs down, followed by Walter.

They follow the tunnel down to the entrance in the dam wall and climb out, spotting the problem immediately. A large mess of plastic scraps and synthetic rope has tangled into the mechanism and it takes an hour to clear it without creating further damage. Eventually the machinery turns smoothly and Walter remains behind as Frankie and Pat climb back up to the main operating room.

“Now, if we’ve done everything right, things should work now, and the first turbine will start generating enough electricity to start the main turbines and produce electricity for the town,” Pat hoover his hand over a button and gives Frankie a tight smile, “So far, this hasn’t worked once, so fingers crossed, Frank.”

He pushes the button and in the distance they hear machinery kicking into gear, running for a few seconds before shutting down.

“Fuck…” Pat mumbles, scratching his head, “that’s more than we’ve had before but I don’t know why it shut down.”

“It sounded like it started fine but short circuited,” Frankie says, “Let me open up and check behind the console.”

“Let me know if you need anything, I’m gonna go check on the turbines,” Pat says, leaving Frankie to grab a set of mismatched tools and pry open the console. He sees the issue as soon as he opens it, a thin tendril of smoke is rising from one of the wires, the insulation has corroded and it’s touching another wire. It’s a matter of minutes to rewire it and make sure the inside is protected from any dampness. Once the dam is up and running the heating will keep this dry and protected.

“Pat,” Frankie calls, “I’ve fixed I think, let’s try it again.”

Pat comes back and motions to Frankie to hit the button, “Do the honors, you’re the one who fixed the last bit.”

“Here goes nothing,” Frankie grimaces and gently pushes the button again. This time the machinery kicks into gear, running smoothly for a couple of minutes until a louder rumble starts up, the main turbines starting to turn and suddenly, making both men startle, lights flood the room their in, lights go on all over the console and static starts pouring out of an abandoned radio on the window sill.

“Oh shit! It worked! It fucking works!” Patrick yells, punching the air before clapping Frankie on the shoulder with a big grin. From the outside they can hear yells of delight from the other men and women of the work party. They go out to join them, leaning over the edge of the dam and watching the water pump through the turbine hall and the lights in the lamps lining the edge flicker to life.

“All the cables feeding electricity to Jackson are underground so we’re hoping they’re unharmed, the town should have electricity now!” Pat says, grinning widely, “Come on, let’s head back and make sure everything’s working.”

Three of the guys are staying behind to keep guard and make sure the dam runs smoothly, they’re to be relieved in a few hours, for a night shift.

“We can’t leave the dam unguarded now,” Pat says, “and we might need to do something about the lights, black them out for now, so that we don’t draw too much attention to it.”

When they get back to the Jackson gate people are waiting for them, you’re there with Jack on your hip. The lights in the house had suddenly come on, a few of the light bulbs immediately broke, but the fridge started humming and the tv buzzed to life with loud static that startled Jack enough to make him cry. You had to run around and turn as much as possible off, checking what worked and what didn’t. The hot water boiler seemed to be working just fine and was full of water that was slowly heating up. Even the radiators came to life, warming the house. Maria had shown up a little while later, on her way to the gate.

“Let’s go greet our returning heroes,” she laughed, “I can’t believe we’ve got electricity!”

All of Jackson turned out, forming a crowd just inside the gate and everyone cheered as the work party, led by Pat, rode into town. Frankie quickly found you in the crowd, grinning wildly as he came over, his horse in tow.

“What a welcoming committee;” he grinned, bending to kiss you and then Jack.

“How does it feel to be a town hero on your second day, Frankie?” you laugh, hugging him tightly as he took Jack from you, putting him on his hip.

“Feels good, feels like coming home, cariño. Feels like coming home.”

Chapter 36

If anyone reading knows how a hydroelectric dam actually works, don't tell me all the mistakes I made, I'm playing fast and lose with the technical details here!

I'm also kinda playing lose with any abandonment issues Jack should, realistically, have after being taken from his mother at six months. But I'm excusing that by thinking that he probably didn't get to spend too much time with his mother anyway, in my mind Julia would've been forced to work straight after giving birth and Jack was left behind whenever the slavers wouldn't let her bring him to whatever work she was made to do (seriously, the last part of The Last of Us 2 is horrifying, it gives a very nasty view into how a slaver's camp worked in this world).

The song that Frankie sings to Jack is called Arroz con Leche and is a well known Latino lullaby. You can hear the version Frankie sings if you look for Arroz con Leche sung by Soleada Arboleda on Spotify!

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #Frankie morales smut #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 2 months

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Rain patters against the roof in large drops. A once beautiful sunrise turned dreary in a matter of seconds. Dark clouds hang overhead. Static sparks dance across your cardigan as you smooth it down with one hand. In the other is a steaming cup of tea. Its warmth is ebbing, losing the battle against the morning breeze. There’s a bite in the air – summer is ending.

Yawning, you pace to the other end of the balcony. On the street below a car passes. It’s that in-between hour where most people are asleep or already at work. Any other day you would be amongst them but today is different; today is special. Sliding your hand into your pocket you procure your phone. Anticipation courses through you. He’s on the way. After many long weeks apart, your boyfriend will soon be home.

With a final glance around the quiet neighbourhood (and a mighty deep inhale to accompany it), you turn around… and just about leap out of your skin. Leaning against the sliding door is Seungmin. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as he watches you. Soft hair speckled with rain shines as the sun bursts through the clouds. Dressed casually in a black hoodie and sweats, he’s as handsome as ever.

“You scared me,” you say around a small laugh. “Got in okay?”

He nods, a playful grin on full display. “Sorry. You just looked so… content.”

“Because I knew you were on the way.”

“Missed me that much?”

With a few short steps you’re wrapped around him, arms entangling in his hoodie’s front pouch. Warmth returns to your rain-spritzed limbs and bubbles deep in your chest. Nestled between fluttering lungs, your heart skips a beat when Seungmin pulls you closer. Hugged tight against him, you can hear his inner workings, can feel how his body synchronises with yours.

“I always miss you when you’re gone,” you murmur, words muffled in the soft fabric of the hoodie that so delectably carries his scent.

It’s an overreaction but tears spring to your eyes despite your mind’s protests. Breathing him deep, you close your eyes and commit this moment to memory – a future failsafe against late night yearning. His lips press into your hair where he leaves a gentle kiss. All your worries dry out under the bright sun. He’s home, and the world resumes. Cars beep, children shout, and birds trill, but it’s all ambient noise. Muting the bustle of life, you block it all out to listen to the response that even after all these years conjures pure elation within:

“I missed you, too.”

#sunlit daydreams #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #soft hours #skz soft thoughts #skz soft hours #kpop soft hours #fluff #skz imagines #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #skz scenarios

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thetomorrowshow · 2 months

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i can't remember (when you weren't there)

trust au sequel story - the seablings compare notes

yep there is a whole compilation of side stories that will be posted irregularly! there's already two on ao3 sooooo yeah have fun

“Yimecht! Stop swimming so far out!”

He laughs delightedly, sticks his tongue out at his sister behind. “You can’t catch me!”

“Yimecht!”

He keeps swimming, flicking his tail faster and faster, torpedoing through the water. Bubbles stream past his face, his ear fins are flat against the sides of his head, he loves going fast—

Something big barrels into him, catching him in its arms, rolling them to the side together.

Yimecht gasps out another laugh, wriggles out of his sister’s arms. “Again! Let’s do it again!”

“No,” Szise says firmly, and she seems grumpy. “Get in the pouch.”

That’s not fair! She may be in charge, but she’s mean. “I don’t want in the pouch,” he argues, crossing his arms. “I’m too big for it. It’s stupid.”

“I’ll make a bigger one when we have time,” she tells him. “It’s not safe for you to be out. Get in the pouch.”

“Why? Why isn’t it safe?”

Szise sighs. “There are dangerous people who want to hurt you. You have to stay hidden until your scales are hard, okay?”

Yimecht opens his eyes, slowly, to see a bedroom.

His bedroom.

Jimmy closes his eyes again, tries to grab on to the last vestiges of that strange, misty, familiar dream.

It slips away as he tries, smoke vanishing in his fingers.

Jimmy . . . Jimmy doesn’t dream. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a dream. Lizzie doesn’t dream, either, neither of them dream and it doesn’t make sense for him to just . . . dream something.

He doesn’t dream. He just doesn’t.

It had been about Lizzie, though.

Jimmy opens his eyes a second time, glances at the worn, ancient little book on his bedside table.

He needs to talk to her.

They don’t get the opportunity to talk until two days later.

The Codlands have been entirely freed, and they’ve already started rebuilding. Many refugees who had fled to other lands are returning, and Jimmy’s own little camp of rebels has made it back to their individual homes. He has plans to personally thank each and every one of them, after the dust settles a bit.

He’s supposed to go see Scott tomorrow—they’ve been apart for far too long already, two weeks without seeing one another (though they message each other whenever there’s a free moment) feels like years, but until then, he’s meant to be arranging all the tasks that need to be completed this weekend and delegating them to the various members of his newly-reformed small council.

Which, of course, is a perfect time to talk to Lizzie. Jimmy has been positively itching to just sit down and talk to her for weeks now, ever since he came into the possession of this diary that clearly belonged to her.

Not to mention, she’s a giant sea monster now.

That feels like something they maybe ought to discuss more than just in passing.

They have a meeting place that’s always been theirs, a little dock at the edge of the capital, usually empty due to its rundown state, the wood old and rotting, the hand-rope almost entirely frayed.

Jimmy arrives right on time, slipping his boots off and setting them on the dock beside him, then tugging up the cuffs of his trousers a little bit to be able to dip his feet fully in the water.

Jimmy’s clothes are all fine to get in the water, though some are more suited for it than others. His tighter trousers he usually leaves on, stretchy and aerodynamic, made for swimming. He doesn’t wear those too terribly often, though, as many other cultures find them inappropriate (and he doesn’t think they have any room to talk, he’s seen the leggings that royal Mythlanders prance around in—but he supposes it’s just part and parcel of being Cod), preferring instead to wear billowy trousers or skirts.

The pair he’s wearing now are a patterned brown-green, loose-fitting, bunched at the ankles with leather cords. They’re wrapped around his waist and tied there; just one pull of the tie securing it and they’d fall, leaving him in his knee-length, skin-tight shorts, ready to leap into the water. He loves their convenience and comfort, and some of his pairs (including these) fit with the betrothal clothing standards (which is, coincidentally, something that they’ll be discussing this weekend).

All that to say, he really doesn’t care too much about getting his boots wet, because half the time he jumps into the water without taking off anything (despite Cod clothing being designed for that very purpose), but he does so now so that he can sit for a moment and relish in the feeling of the water between his toes.

He’s considering slipping off his trousers and sliding into the water (Jimmy only ever half-undresses for swimming—if he’s wearing tight trousers, he’ll take off his shirt, but he feels oddly exposed if he ends up with both off) when Lizzie pops up out of the water beside the dock, huge and a little terrifying, the water rocking against him in actual waves at her entrance.

His sister is a sea monster.

Or, more accurately, a sea monster is his sister.

The pink scales that he’s always known are still there in the same patterns on her cheeks and jaw and around her eyes, but her pale skin is gone, replaced by smooth blue scales. Her face isn’t quite the same, a bit sharper and somehow more . . . fitting, like this is how it’s meant to frame her cheekbones, and her more humanoid face had been just barely the wrong shape or size. She’s a good twelve feet tall, probably standing on the ocean floor yet still able to stand head and shoulders above the surface.

Changed as she is, she is his sister, and nothing’s truly different about the grin that she gives him, soft and loving and maybe a little bit vicious.

“Hey, Lizzie,” he says fondly, and Lizzie clicks her tongue in a dolphin greeting—and her tongue is way longer than it used to be, whoa.

“How is everyone settling back in?” she asks, voice a little echo-y in a way it never was before.

Jimmy shrugs. “As well as anyone would expect, I guess,” he says. “It’s hard, but we’re making it work.” He hadn’t been planning on doing any swimming right now, but with Lizzie shaking water droplets everywhere, he figures he might as well. He pulls free the tie of his trousers and slips into the water, stretching out his arms and kicking his legs, the water cool and inviting against his skin and scales.

The effects of living without the ocean (or any meaningful body of water, really) for so much time hadn’t gone unnoticed. The first moment that he had dipped into the ocean proper—two weeks ago, when he and Lizzie had swum out to free the Codlands—it felt like some dying part of him was suddenly revived, despite not really being aware that it was dying in the first place.

Like part of his soul, slowly drifting further away, was bound back to him.

And he wonders, now, if leaving the ocean in the first place played any part in separating him from his memories.

No use in small talk. He might as well cut to the chase.

“So I’ve got this book,” he says, just as Lizzie says, “Scott gave me this book.”

Jimmy pauses, waits for Lizzie to insist he can talk first, but Lizzie just keeps on talking.

“It’s a history book of the ocean, from . . . hundreds of years ago, I think?” she says, pulling a book out from a very large satchel (which still looks too-small on her). “It’s absolutely ancient. It talks about the forming of the world, and the development of the seas, and this sea . . . dragon? The word doesn’t quite make sense—this sea monster that used to rule the ocean. Apparently she died, and there just wasn’t a ruler for a long time? I don’t know, I skipped most of that part. Boring politics and all that. And then it talks about her two children hatching or something, and the splitting off of the salmon, and . . . that’s where it ends.”

Jimmy frowns. He isn’t quite sure when the salmon split off, but it was long enough ago that none of his people were alive when it happened. Most scholars agree that it was probably several hundred years in the past; the Codlands have been pitted against the salmon for as long as can be remembered. “When did you say it was written?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, the movement sending a small wave to rock into Jimmy. “There’s something weird, though—I don’t speak the language it’s written in. But—”

“You were kind of able to read it anyway?” guesses Jimmy, his stomach flipping.

Lizzie nods, giving him a strange look. “Exactly. If I think too hard about reading it, I stop being able to. But I think it’s some old form of Oceanic. Have you seen it before?”

She hands the book to Jimmy, one hand large enough to cover both of Jimmy’s.

Sure enough, flipping open to the third page, it’s written in those strange old letters that itch in the back of Jimmy’s brain, tall and blue and washed-out. This book is far more neat than the one he has, the handwriting strict and uniform, the lines straight and not trailing down the page.

If he carefully doesn’t focus, he can tell that it’s saying something about a god.

This one, he knows, wasn’t written by Lizzie.

But he can suddenly hear it, as if told by his sister.

“Once upon a time, mama met our father, who was a god. Then she could die happy, because her babies would live forever.”

He blinks, glances up to see Lizzie waiting, sharp, black nails tapping against her arm. “Sorry, what was your question?”

“Have you seen these letters before?”

Slowly, almost trance-like, Jimmy reaches for his book, which he’d left on the dock, tucked into the large pocket of his trousers.

“Scott had this, he said he meant to give it to you,” he says. “It’s—it looks like . . . well, see for yourself.”

Lizzie takes the book from him—this one, smaller than the other, appears almost tiny in her hands—and carefully opens it, pinched between her fingers.

And soon enough, brow furrowed as she studies it, Lizzie comes to the same conclusion that Jimmy had.

“I wrote this,” she says, seeming almost dumbstruck. “I—this is my handwriting. This is about us. I wrote this. I don’t remember writing this.”

“I think it’s from Before.”

Lizzie doesn’t respond, eyes flying across the pages. “This is about you!” she gasps, pointing. “It says you were a small, damaged egg.”

“Embellishments to make the story more dramatic,” Jimmy waves off. He does remember seeing that part and stoutly ignoring it.

Lizzie pauses to give him a look. “If I wrote this, I wouldn’t lie. Besides, you look like the type to be small and damaged.”

She returns to her reading as Jimmy sputters a couple of protests. There’s no proof that he was ever an egg, actually! Let alone a small and damaged one!

After several minutes, she looks up again, brow creased. “Jimmy,” she says slowly.

“Yimecht!” his sister calls, laughing.

“How old are we?”

“Well, people usually tell me I look about twenty-four,” Jimmy says, checking the backs of his hands for wrinkles. They’re as unwrinkled as they’ve always been. “So maybe somewhere around there?”

“Yes, but you’ve looked twenty-four for the past decade,” says Lizzie. “And for . . . what, thirty years? For thirty-odd years, people have been telling me I look twenty-six. Shouldn’t I be fifty-something? At least?”

“You don’t really look twenty-six anymore,” Jimmy comments. “You look like a sea monster.”

“A young sea monster.”

“Still a sea monster.”

“My point is,” Lizzie presses, “the history book says that the two eggs of this ancient sea-dragon-monster-thing hatched, and ruled the ocean together. And this other book says that you and I were—the rulers, I guess. When I wrote this, we ruled the sea. But according to this book, if we were those two eggs, that would have been centuries ago at least. Far too long ago. How . . . how old are we?”

“Then she could die happy, because her babies would live forever.”

“Wow. We’re gonna live forever?”

“We’re gonna live forever,” Jimmy says now, echoing the words of his fading memory. “That’s . . . I think you told me that. A long, long time ago.”

It’s his sister’s voice in the memory, even if the words aren’t familiar. He would recognize her anywhere (and he always has, when they first crossed paths nearly a decade ago he heard her voice and knew instantly that she was his sister, despite knowing nothing else).

The idea—living forever—sends a little thrill through Jimmy’s scales. He’s never going to die. He never has to grow old.

That sounds awesome.

Lizzie, however, seems less than excited by the prospect. “I think so,” she says quietly. “That feels right.”

She looks down at her hands, her claw-like nails. “Joel’s having my wedding ring remade,” she says after a moment. “Since the change is looking kind of permanent.”

“That’s nice of him.” Jimmy hadn’t even realized, but Lizzie’s still wearing the ring, on a thin chain around her neck.

Hopefully he doesn't turn big right after getting married to Scott. That would be a huge ring.

“Promise me,” Lizzie says suddenly. “Promise me that we’ll always be here for each other.”

Why wouldn’t they be? They’re going to live forever, of course they’ll always support each other. She’s his sister, even when his memory was a blank hole he knew her, and Jimmy can’t even imagine not being by her side.

“Yeah,” he says, confused as to why she would even ask. “Of course.”

“Jimmy, I mean it,” she says. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” he says. “Why would I leave you?” The look she gives him is almost mournful, markedly different from how it might have looked in a face not entirely scaley.

“Things will change over time,” she says vaguely. “You’ll feel differently then.”

He doesn’t think he will. He would never abandon his blood, no matter what happens.

And, unsatisfying and unfinished, their conversation ends there. Something has put Lizzie in a somber mood, so Jimmy takes the journal back, vowing to translate it when he has time so they can properly read it. Lizzie takes the history book with a promise to do the same.

And Jimmy forgets, over the next couple of days, Lizzie’s concern. Too caught up in the excitement of living forever, he doesn’t imagine there could ever be real consequences—none that matter when compared to immortality. And then, even that is mostly put from his mind, what with discussions of betrothals and long meetings of holding hands with Scott under the table.

But he does translate the journal, and traces his fingers across hundreds of years of protection and love.

He doesn’t remember it as being his—

“Yimecht! Stop swimming so far out!”

—but his name is there, dozens of times.

Smallbelovedfoundbrother.

Yimecht.

He thinks he likes it.

#trust au #empires smp s1 #empires smp fanfic #jimmy solidarity #ldshadowlady #krcu #mas writes #can you tell that i'm very over posting on tumblr #like. i'm kinda done with it #it's all on ao3 and chapter lists here are so hard to keep up with #anyways here it is #i forgot to crosspost the first one but alas #perhaps one day it will end up on this blog #petition to rename trust au the krcu #ummm lmk what you think #love you guys

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