#reader is a badass fr

[fluloa]

Si fpom

Jake Sully x reader [series, part one]

Home.

That's what your mother whispers to you, mouth stretched into a warm grin as she holds you in her arms. A baby so small, crying in choked whines and all she can do is wipe a hand through your thin threads of short hair. She's exhausted, spent of the hours of pushing and crying and screaming. Ongokx. To be born. Here you were, settled in her arms with a face so sweet and skin so teal. Ronal feels tears dry up on her cheeks as new ones overlap them, "Ma ite. Ma txon."

My daughter. My night. The fire beside her crackles, warming her sweat-dampened legs as Tonowari supports her from her back. The moon's light shines in from the slitted open flat of the tent, highlighting the side of your face. Born in a night. Her little night.

As you grow older, so does your curiosity. You're drawn to the ocean, to the outside of the reef, to the outside of your home. Barely the age of three and you're waddling to the sea foam of the ocean, with your father hot on your feet before he's scooping you up. You just manage to pick up a dirtied seashell before it. "Tomorrow, my daughter. Far too dark now."

He starts walking away with you on his hip, and you look over his big shoulder, arm reaching out clumsily. "Go out there." You wave your seashell, and he takes it from your chubby little hand.

He lows a laugh, "This right here is all you need." He gives your belly a small tickle, before gently moving your head to the view of your village.

When you're four, you're gifted with a baby brother. You sit on your knees from afar as you watch the baby in your mother's arms with curiosity, loud cries filling your ears. He looks so odd to you, a face so small and the stripes on his skin like little spikes. You look to your own. Why are yours more stretched out? And why is he crying so much? Is he hurt?

Your mother looks to you, eyes wearing a tiredness but she smiles, flicking a hand in your direction as she beckons you. "Come look, txon."

You slowly crawl your way towards her, eyes trained on the little being in her arms. You kneel neatly beside her, looking up to her and she nods again, smile brightening as a few chuckles leave her lips. "You can touch, ma eveng."

You warily reach your hand out, placing your palm on the soft skin of his belly. You're fascinated with the way your hand covers most of it. You shift your hand again, instead feathering at his cheek and your mouth cracks into a little smile.

"Tonowari," Ronal quickly whispers, pointing her head to the scene in front of him. His face beams with joy at the sight, placing a hand on her arm as his chest swells with warm pride. At such a young age, you held a sense of maturity, of wiseness. Destined to be a leader. A tsahik. But that didn't mean you didn't have a snap of childish fire in you.

"Ao'nung!" you hiss, refusing to unlatch your grip on the seashell he's desperately holding. He whines, tugging again but it's useless to you. Six and two is a big difference in strength. "Give it— give it!" you scream.

You finally pull, and it's a hard pull. Whipping it out from his grasp and the force sends him to the ground butt first. Hearing the frustrated hisses morph into big cries makes you grin in victory, but the expression drops as soon as you hear the angry thud of footsteps against sand and see the angry look on your incoming mother's face.

During your sixth cycle, you rode your first ilu. Sure, it was a bit on the messy side and you did squirm a bit before connecting your tsaheylu, but as soon as your fingers grazed the wet scales of the animal's neck and you settled comfortable on her back, you were gliding through the sea. Ronal was scared for you at first, but Tonowari's hand placed on her shoulder gave her enough reassurance.

Once you come back up to your parents, your smile is bright, water dripping from your face. Your mother leans over and flicks a few wet stray hairs out from your face. "How was it, txon?"

"Really, really good!" you gasp, earning a chuckle from both your parents. "Can I go further?" you point your finger out, almost reaching to the deeper fill of sea.

Tonowari shakes his head.

"Let me go further!" you whine, dreaded that your father had caught you trying to sneak an ilu after sunset. His grip on your forearm is tight and unforgiving, dragging you away from the coldness of the sea's start and to the dryness of the hot sand. Even if you were twelve, you still held that childish fire.

"I will not let this continue," he snaps out your name. "Foolish girl. One of these days, you'll end up dead."

Your fingers claw at his fist wrapped around your damp skin, tears burning at the rim of your eyes. "I would rather that than be stuck here!" you cry.

He suddenly stops, looks back to you with his face still. "You disappoint me."

He lets go of you, and you slump to the ground, finally letting the tears break from your eyes and drool down your cheeks. You wanted more. More than this land, than this village. But it was out of reach, and you couldn't even attempt to stretch out your hand to catch it.

You feel a hand warm at your shoulder, and you numbly look up, seeing your grandmother eyeing you with a soft sympathy. You clumsily crawl to her, clutching her legs in a hug and a soft chuckle leaves her. "Come," she murmurs.

You're sat at her tent, arms wrapped around your knees as she gently unfolds your braids, drops of water sliding from your hair and sticking to your back. Your eyes are wet, tiredness taking over your body little by little. "What is the matter?" she starts, her tone casual.

"Why am I so different?" you mumble, eyes trained on the ember fire in front of you. "I feel as if I am so apart from everyone else."

"You are your father's daughter," she responds. "He sees himself in you, and he is afraid of that."

"I am nothing like him." You bitter, playing with a cuticle of your nail as annoyance from the events of before settle deep in your heart.

Your grandmother laughs, "You would be surprised. But, ma eveng, you are not apart from everyone else. Different, maybe, but it is not bad. It is a gift."

She takes the final braid out from your hair, humming as she cups your chin with her fingers and turns your face to her gaze. "Lor evenge," she awes. Beautiful girl, she calls you, something that you can't seem to believe each time the words leave her mouth as much as you try to. Her eyes graze over your hair, using a soft hand to comb through it. "You must wear it like this more often."

Your eyebrows crinkle, a smile making its way to your lips. She grins back.

"Come," she takes your hand, bringing you up with her and she skims past her tent, dragging you with to wherever she's going to. She sneaks you past the village, away from the people and fires and leads to you a thick land of rock that's mended through the sand and is perched at the edge of the sea, as flat as the sand beneath your feet. She slips her hand away from yours, stepping onto the rock surface. You watch her with curiosity as she starts to move her arms, and then she turns to you, curling her hand toward you.

You swallow steadily, stepping onto the rock and feeling the gravelly surface graze the bottoms of your bare feet. You begin to follow her movements, unable to fight the grin on your face as she smiles in your direction.

"Dance with the water," your grandmother whispers, voice blending with the soft sway of the ocean. "Feel its waves. Its undertow. Feel it within your body, and move with it. Move with the water, ma evenge."

Your grandmother grows ill when you're fifteen. You can tell in the way her face softens and wrinkles, the way her voice croaks, and the way her movements slow.

Dancing with her at your designated spot, the flat chunk of rock. The night's air cool as it breezes through your unbraided hair, beads jingling on your body as your hips sway. A sudden stop to her motions has your head whipping towards her, rushing to her just before she falls to the ground. "Grandmama," you murmur, pressing a few fingers to her head and worry shocking through your system at the intense warmth that you feel against them.

You yell out desperately, holding her to your smaller body as she begins to slump against you. A few people come, and take her from your arms, rushing her to the healers pod. You follow after them, hot on their heels as you silently beg Eywa for a miracle. You could not lose her. She was your source of peace, your light in the pitch black darkness. She was the only thing that made sense to you.

They lay her out on a blanket layered bed, dipping a bowl of misty green liquid into her mouth. You don't pay attention when the thin curtains of the marui pod whip apart, your parents swarming beside you.

"Mother," your father whispers, kneeling down to her form and rolling a hand over hers. His head suddenly slumps, mouth dipping in a sadness and your heart plumbers.

"Let me see her," you rush, attempting to push past the little crowd of people that surround her. "Let me see her! Grandmama!"

Your mother wraps a hand around your arm, but you immediately shrug it off, forcing your way past everyone as your eyes begin to fog. You drop to your knees, eyes trained on the still, dead face of your grandmother. You suck in a rasped gasp of air, hand pulling on her arm wretchedly as you cry. You scream out, only to be forced away by the rough arms of your father, shoved into his chest as your wails of pain begin to muffle. He lets you cry, lets you hit at his body as despair fills your being. A new tsahik would come forth; your mother.

A little while later, you held young little Tsireya in your arms, allowing her tears to run at the skin of your torso. You push your own need of comfort aside, instead focusing on your younger sister that reaches for the comfort that you need to give. You comb your fingers through her dark hair, just like your grandmama, and mumble a soft tune. "Mawey, hi'i ilva. Aku tikeftxo, teya si fpom."

Calm, little drop. Take away sadness, and fill peace. The beginning of your songcord, the first little bead of your chain.

Past your teenage years and into your early adulthood cycle, you were fierce. A force to be reckoned with. You held that fire within you, and it had only blossomed into a bigger wrath of ember. A gifted dancer, a strong hunter, but a kind heart. A kind heart that your people grew to know, to adore. Wise beyond your years, people said, but a wild, curious and adventurous young girl deep inside. Your father's daughter, just like your grandmother had once said.

"A tsahik in the making," your mother tells you, fixing the crystal woven crown on your hairline. Your head juts up, your chest risen with pride as she then traces your newly tattooed back.

A tsahik in the making that you hope could live up to your grandmama.

— sooo here it is!! ik this chapter isn’t that big but trust me, next chapter will be FAT. lol. pls be kind. <333 also idk if this will get attention or not

to be in my tag list for this series -> here

PART TWO

[mangaparacosm]

Yoo Joonghyuk, you fool.

[fandomhopped]

first love/late spring

pairing: fwb!logan howlett x fem!reader; 2nd person pov

summary: logan and reader have been sleeping together for a while with an unspoken rule to keep it casual, but that goes to hell when logan catches feelings. however, reader is an independent boss bitch and hates men<3

warnings: heavy swearing, hella mentions of sexual situations, substance abuse, brief sexual content(nothing serious fr), creepy guy in a bar, blood, bar fight, mentions of sex trafficking and resulting trauma, daddy issues, fluff, angst asf, lowkey scott slander (i dont mean it i love him)

word count: 9.1k

a/n: reader has light manipulation abilities but theyre not mentioned that often lol, also reader takes a lotta shots at jean just cuz she pisses me off. side note: idk the true meaning of the song i used as the title, there are many different interpretations. i found the song after i had alr written the story and the lyrics resonated pls don’t jump down my throat if it doesn’t align <3

there’s not a millimeter of space between you and logan as he holds you against his body. you’re sleeping soundly, and he watches you breathe all night, not bothering to even think about sleep for himself. the sun came up three hours ago, he felt it on his back.

when you drink, you always wake up early the next morning. you two drank a lot together last night. and like every time you drink with logan, you ended up in his bed.

he tries to block the sun from your face with his body so it won’t wake you up. he knows when you finally do, this little illusion that you're his will all be over. everything you said last night won’t matter. you’ll go back to your room. he’ll stay in bed. you’ll both go back to acting like it never happened.

you always leave him swiftly. you always go downstairs and drink coffee from the same mug and act like nothing happened. without a stutter, it’s a routine.

since he moved into the mansion, he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that the female teachers were attractive. and, of course, he was first drawn to jean. he won’t deny that he still harbored some feelings for her when you came to his room all those months ago, but she made it abundantly clear that she loves scott.

then one night, you slipped a bottle of whiskey into the mansion and invited him to join you in drinking it. you said some things that made him sit closer to you. that was just the beginning. he woke up the next morning to an empty bed but distinctly remembers you falling asleep next to him, so he assumed you woke up and left.

logan is a pro at acting like some things never happen, but he wasn’t expecting you to act the same. he dismissed it as a one-off, drunken night.

then it happened again… and again and again, and you continued to act like it never happened.

which, he was fine with. this wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a with-benefits situation, but there’s something different about you. you’re badass. you’re beautiful. he really respects you. you fit him perfectly.

and you’re mean. you don’t smile all that much, really only when you’re drinking is what logan soon found out. you’re not always outright mean to people, it’s usually deserved. you don’t take anybody’s shit. you’ll let people know when they’re in the wrong or they’re pissing you off. you’re sarcastic and rudely witty.

that was just another thing that attracted him to you. but, God, were you the meanest in the mornings, especially when you’re hungover.

unfortunately for logan, he has developed a small, tiny, itty bitty, barely-there crush on you. just catching a scent of your perfume has him rolling his eyes in the back of his head and white-knuckling whatever is directly in front of him.

the thoughts of you under him, on top of him, in front of him, on your knees for him plague his mind all. day. long. then last night, you had him rock solid from just a few drunken words.

“you’ve ruined all men for me,” you said as he kissed down your neck.

“hmm?” he hummed as his hands roamed your body under your shirt.

“nobody could ever fuck me like you do,” you told him, pulling at his hair roughly. he lets out a deep groan at the feeling.

he’s never picked up his pace of getting someone’s clothes off so quickly. he ripped your favorite pair of pj shorts in the process, mumbling that he’ll buy you a new pair.

with him deeply inside you, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other sending you over the edge with his mouth leaving marks all over your chest, you say breathily, “fuck, you’re perfect for me.”

the moment hasn’t left his mind since.

“i’m hot,” you mutter, pushing the sheets from your legs. “you’re hot.”

“oh, yeah?” he whispers in your ear, his lips turned up.

“i’m about to have a heat stroke,” you return, squirming around and shoving his arms from around you.

he lets go of you and gives you some space, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. a deep sigh leaves him.

“i’m gonna throw up,” you tell him, groaning and curling up into the fetal position.

“are you serious? don’t puke in my bed,” he says, leaning up to look at you.

you roll your eyes. “no, i’m not serious,” you snap at him.

“‘you wanna take a shower?” he asks, his lip curling up at the thought of you ruining his sheets (and not in the way he usually prefers).

“i feel like shit right now, logan. i don’t want to fuck you in the shower,” you tell him roughly, sitting up and glaring over at him.

he watches you stand up out of his bed and put yout shirt on. “‘s not what i meant,” he grumbles, looking away from her. he throws the sheets off his body and grabs his jeans from the night before.

he runs his hands down his face and then looks up only to see the door closing behind you as you leave him. again.

“whew, late night?” ororo asks you as soon as you walk into the kitchen, changed into some presentable clothes rather than the ripped shorts and oversized tshirt you walked back to your room in.

you ignore the woman as you open the cabinet to grab your mug. the same one you use every morning.

but it’s not there.

“where’s my mug?” you ask, glancing around the kitchen to see it’s not just ororo but also jean and scott there.

“is this yours?” scott asks, holding up the mug in his hand.

your gaze darkens. “yes,” she grits out, tightening her jaw.

“that’s my bad. i didn’t know this was yours,” he says, standing up and walking over to the sink. “i’ll wash it and you can use it.”

you feel your skin crawl as he turns on the hot water. “stop,” you say lowly, walking to him and turning off the water. “you can’t—.” you stop yourself as you breathe heavily. you rip the cup from his hands.

“hey, it’s just a mug,” ororo says to you, “what’s up?”

“it’s not—,” you cut yourself off again and take a deep breath, shaking your head. you turn on the cold water from the sink and carefully wash the mug.

“seriously, what’s going on with you?” jean asks as scott rejoins her side.

you roll your neck. “i’ve been here for years, and you don’t know which one is my mug?” you ask scott, not looking anywhere but your mug until you’re sure it’s clean.

“i never noticed before, ‘sorry,” he says then turns to jean with a shrug.

the light beaming in through the window shines a little brighter as you continue to shake your head, muttering things under your breath that the others can’t make out.

“it really is just a mug,” ororo says carefully, looking over your figure in concern.

“except it’s not,” you retort, attentively drying off the ceramic with a towel. you then pour some coffee into the mug and hold it close to your chest, turning back to the other mutants.

“what—,” jean begins but logan walks into the kitchen just as she starts and she stops herself.

her surveys everyone’s demeanor then looks at you. “what’s wrong with you?” he asks, walking to the cabinet and grabbing whichever cup is closest to his hand when he reaches in. he pours himself some coffee and turns back to them expectantly.

“scott was using my mug,” you tell him, leaning against the counter.

“why?” he asks scott, eyeing the man.

“to drink coffee. why does it matter?” he asks in return, scoffing.

“it’s hers,” logan returns, his stare hardens and he looks at scott like he’s an idiot.

ororo laughs humorlessly. “what does that mean? it’s just a mug,” she asks, looking between you.

you glare at her. “it was my father’s and now it’s mine.”

“the same father that sold you?” jean asks, her face contorting. you shift your weight uncomfortably. “why would you want that?”

“why don’t you just back the fuck off, bitch?” you snap at her, stepping toward her.

“woah, girl, calm down,” ororo intervenes, holding her hand toward you like you’re a wild animal. you scoff. “we get it. it’s special to you. that’s all you had to say.”

you roll your eyes at them. you leave the group and return to your room. logan watches you go then turns back to the others with his eyebrows raised. “did you say sold her?” he asks jean.

“when he found out she was a mutant—,” she begins.

“jean,” ororo interrupts her, shaking her head at the girl.

jean continues, “—her father sold her into a mutant sex trafficking ring,” she reveals, looking only at logan, “that’s where we found her and then brought her here.”

his face contorts, and he looks down into his coffee. “shit,” he comments.

“she doesn’t talk about it to anybody, and, out of respect, we don’t talk about it either,” ororo says pointedly at the telepath.

logan is seething all day over the new information. he hates to think you went through that for God knows how long.

after the incident, logan doesn’t see you for a while. he doesn’t know how. you’re a teacher and you live down the hall from him, yet he still doesn’t even catch a whiff of your perfume.

“logan, meet me in my office,” he hears charles’ voice in his head. he obeys and within a minute, he’s standing before the professor. “you should leave her alone for a bit.”

her brow furrows. “come again?”

charles says your name and logan clenches his jaw. “she’s destructive right now. you should let her be.”

“is she okay?” the wolverine asks, concern growing in his stomach, and it makes him feel sick.

“she’ll be just fine. this happens from time to time,” he tells him, pressing his lips into a thin line. “you know of her circumstances.”

“her circumstances?” logan growls, scowling down at the old man, “you knew what she went through and didn’t think to tell me? you know what’s going on between us and didn’t think maybe i needed to know that? what if she had a breakdown when we were together? i wouldn’t have known what was happening.”

charles’ lips turn down into a small frown. “that’s not my information to tell.”

logan storms off in a huff, muttering under his breath.

that friday, he’s smoking a cigar in his bed, looking out the window at the moon, which is shining rather bright tonight. he hears a few quiet knocks on his door. he opens the door, expecting it to be a student.

“hey,” you say, waving a bottle of jack in his face before pushing past him into the room. “'hope you don’t mind, i got started without you.”

“you always do,” he comments, closing the door, putting out the cigar, and following you to sit on his bed. “listen —.”

“i think i like that vodka more than this. this one makes my mouth taste weird,” you tell him, taking another sip out of the bottle before handing it to him.

he holds it and sighs. “look, we should—.”

“—take our clothes off?” you finish his sentence, smiling darkly at him. “i mean, it’s a little early, but i agree.”

“that’s not what i—.”

“—was going to say?” you guess his words, cutting him off again. “look at us finishing each other’s…” you trail off, looking at him expectantly. he sends you a deadpanned glance. “this is the part where you say ‘sentences.’ i think i’m better at this game than you are.”

he takes a long sip from the bottle before he looks at you. “can you be serious for a second?” he asks.

you scoff and take the bottle from his hands. “i don’t come to you like this to be serious, logan,” you say, putting the whiskey to your lips again.

“why do you come to me at all?” he asks quietly and gruffly.

you take another sip and place the bottle on the floor, scooting closer to him. “because you’re hot,” you say in a sultry voice, putting a hand on his thigh and slowly dragging it up, “and you call me ‘princess’ and ‘darling’,” you continue, reaching for his belt buckle. he doesn’t do anything to stop you, “and your hands.” you push the buckle out the way and unbutton his pants, dragging down the zipper slowly. “and your tongue.” you reach your hand into his pants. “and this.”

he breathes heavily, completely lost in the euphoria that is you.

he forces himself to snap out of him and shakes his head. he pushes your hand away and stands up, taking a few steps away.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him, grabbing the bottle and standing also. “do you need some more?” you ask, holding the drink out for him, confusion written all over your face.

he holds his hands out in front of him as if to deny the offer. “it’s…,” he trails off, pushing a deep breath through his nose.

your shoulders drop along your face. you tilt your head in disbelief. “oh, my fuck. they told you,” you conclude. you turn around and sit back down on the bed. he stays silent, just looking at you. “okay, so what now? you don’t want me anymore ‘cause i’m used up?” you ask, slurring your words a little.

“no,” he denies without hesitation.

your sober personality is back even though you’re still drinking the whiskey like you’ve been in the dry desert for weeks without water.

“then what is it, logan? you don’t wanna do this ‘cause my hair isn’t blood red?” you ask next, raising your brow and looking at him expectantly.

his face contorts. “what’re you talking about?” he asks gruffly.

you chuckle at him. “i’m not a fucking idiot, old man. i know you want jean so bad, but she doesn’t want you so i'm second choice” you say, then you shrug with one shoulder. “i’d’a gone with ororo, to be honest. have you seen her? i’d show her a good time,” you add.

“that’s not what this is,” he tells you, taking a step forward but not within arm's length of you.

“then what is it? just fucking tell me,” you say loudly, the room lights up as the moon shines brighter. “d’you want me to tell you ‘bout how i was a good, little daddy’s girl until i almost blinded my brother when i first got my powers? how about how my dad gave me away like he didn’t love me? d’you want me to cry in your arms about how i was passed around by mean men like a blunt when i was 14? why do you think i can only let you fuck me when i’m drunk?” you ask him sarcastically, but your voice breaks on your last words. you let out an unsteady breath. logan watches you cautiously, unsure of what to do. “is that what you want, logan?! you wanna be the big, strong man here?!” you ask him, crying now as you yell at the man in front of you.

your body slumps forward as you let the tears drop from your eyes, and you grip the bottle in your hands like a lifeline. you feel the bed dip beside you and the bottle pulled from your hands. you move your hands to your face, trying to pull yourself together.

you feel his big arms envelope you and pull you into his chest. that’s when the waterworks really break out.

logan’s never been to best with tears. he hasn’t had to deal with them too much, but his first instinct was to hold you as close as you would let him. he hates to see you like this. in all honesty, he wants to hunt down every man that ever put a finger on you and rip them to shreds. but, for now, he’ll hold you. as long as you would let him.

you wake up with araging headache. you’re hot, burning up, actually. you kick the blankets from your legs and turn over in the arms of the incredibly attractive man in bed next to you. you look at his sleeping face and sigh.

this is the part where you leave, but this time, you just snuggle into his chest and fall back asleep.

logan wakes up later than he usually does after nights like the last one. it’s normally the sound of the door closing wakes him up. but, this time, he sees your cute face smushed against his pec. he doesn’t fight the smile on his face.

you stir quickly after he wakes up. you rub your eyes and look around the room, then to logan. “i’m gonna puke,” you tell him, the remnants of the smile fall from his face. you pull away from him as your face blanches. “seriously,” you add and sit up quickly.

he reaches for the trash can beside his bed and holds it in front of you just in time. he holds your hair back with a look of absolute disgust while you clutch the bin close to your face and your body jerks with each gag.

once you're done, you wipe your mouth with the bottom of your shirt. you groan loudly and stand up from the bed. “i’m gonna take this with me,” you tell him, holding the can in your arms and moving toward the door.

“keep it,” he remarks, his lip curled up.

monday morning rolls around quicker than anybody wants. you walk into the kitchen and grab your mug, pouring coffee and looking around at others in the kitchen.

they’re talking amongst themselves, mentions of grading papers and some stupid answer a kid put as their answer on an assignment.

you just listen and sip your coffee peacefully. that is, until logan walks in. you move from in front of the coffee pot for him to get some. he nods in thanks as he joins your side.

“this coffee is awful,” you comment, pouring it out in the sink next to you. he chuckles at your comment but doesn’t say anything. “scott, did you make the coffee this morning?” you ask him. the three look over to you, almost as if they didn’t see you come in.

“yeah,” he answers.

“don’t do it again,” you tell him, filling the mug with water and leaving the kitchen.

as you watch a group of students take a test, you see logan walk back in his jacket he usually only wears when leaving campus.

“hey,” you call out. all the students look up at you. “keep taking your tests. i’m going to the hallway for a second,” you tell them and move into the hallway. “logan,” you call and he turns around, walking back toward you. “where are you going?”

“to pick up some more cigars,” he answers, gesturing over his shoulder.

“will you pick me up a pack of cigarettes?” you ask him, reaching into your pocket for some money.

his brow furrows. “you smoke?” he asks.

“sometimes, yeah,” you reply, handing him $20.

he shakes his head. “i’ll cover it,” he answers.

“thanks,” you reply, placing a hand on his forearm before returning to your classroom.

he looks down to his arm and blinks. that’s new.

“brad, i know you’re not talking during a test. are you begging for a failing grade?” he hears you say before he turns back toward the front door of the mansion.

logan returns a while later, after the school day is over and the students are training. he finds you in your classroom, grading papers.

“hey,” he greets. you look up at him.

“hey,” you return, eyes dancing all over his body.

“these are for you,” he says, holding out the page of cigarettes.

“right, thanks,” you say and reach for them, your fingers brushing his as you grab them.

“‘you need any help?” he asks, looking at the papers before you.

“do you know anything about math?” you ask him, pursing your lips.

“uh, no,” he answers, shaking his head. “don’t you have an answer key or something?”

“i have to check their work to make sure they didn’t just get the answer from the person beside them,” you reply, looking back down to the papers. “some of these kids are dumbasses.”

he chuckles. “no kid wants to do math,” he comments.

“how would you know? weren’t you born before there were schools?” you ask him without looking up. there’s a beat of silence before you eventually glance up at him. “was that insensitive?” you ask instead.

he just shrugs. “i’m not that old,” he says, sitting in the desk in front of yours.

“sure,” you respond and go back to grading.

the two of you sit in without a word as you grade, and he watches you in complete admiration. after a while, he stands up and walks toward the door.

“you’re leaving?” you question.

“‘didn’t think you wanted your room smelling like cigars,” he replies.

“i’ll join you,” you say, grabbing the pack he bought you and putting the tests in a drawer. he doesn’t object and you two walk outside, to a bench in the gardens, away from the students.

the two of you sit in silence as you inhale smoke and slowly release it from your lungs.

“i’ve never seen you smoke before,” he comments after a while.

“i only smoke when i give up drinking, i only drink when i give up smoking,” you answer, tossing the burnt cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it, then picking another one from the pack.

you pick up your lighter and flick it a few times but it won’t light. you put your head and lighter inside your shirt to block the wind, trying again and failing again.

“motherfucker,” you mutter as you try to cover the lighter.

“here,” he offers his lighter with the fire shining brightly above it. with the cigarette between your lips, lean toward the lighter, looking up into his eyes as you do. he meets your eyes and clears his throat, closing the flame into the top of the lighter and shifting his eyes to the cigar between his fingers. you let a small smile rest on your face afterward.

“so you’re not drinking anymore?” he asks you.

“figured i should go on a sobriety cleanse for a bit,” you reply, “‘t’s probably for the best.”

“probably,” he adds and silence takes over again.

he glances over at her for a second and he sees you bite at the skin of your bottom lip the way you always do when you’re thinking, contemplating. he’s tempted to ask what’s on your mind but before he can break the silence, you let out a hard sigh.

“i don’t apologize for things,” you begin and pause, biting at your lip again.

“okay…?”

“i don’t apologize for my actions or words because i stand by every decision i make,” you continue and pause again. he’s looking at you and you’re looking directly ahead of you. “i’m not good at apologizing,” you sigh again, “but i’m…sorry for some of the things i said the other night. there’s no excuse. i apologize. take that how you will.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he replies.

you huff. “so i just said all that for nothing? you could at least accept the damn apology,” she snaps at him then rubs the crease between her eyebrows out.

“you called me an old man. i don’t know if i want to accept your apology,” he teases with a crooked smile. you send him a look that turns into a hint of a smile before turning your head away.

“i need to get back to grading those tests. i’ll see you later, logan.” you stomp out another cigarette and stand up from the bench.

“see ya, sweetheart,” he says lowly but you still hear it.

as you look over tests, ororo enters your classroom. “ooh, what’s got you all smiley?” she asks as she strolls in.

the previous smile you didn’t even realize you were wearing falls when you look up at the mutant. “huh?”

“don’t try to deny it. i saw that smile,” she says teasingly. you just roll your eyes lightheartedly. ororo’s brow furrows as she sniffs the air. “are you smoking again?”

“yeah, i quit drinking,” you answer, “what’s up?”

“i was coming in here to ask you if you wanted to go out with the rest of us friday night. we’re planning on going that bar we always go to,” she says, “but if you’re not drinking, i don’t wanna make you go.”

“yeah, no. that’s okay,” you decline the offer.

“alright, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us. sober or not,” she adds before leaving out.

the week drags on painfully slow. it’s a week of tests and starting new units in all your classes and you really just want to bang your head against a wall and tell the kids class is canceled.

by the end of it, you actually do want to join your colleagues in going out to that bar in town that they love so much. you offer to be the designated driver, not trusting anyone but yourself to drive you anywhere.

“are you going with us to the bar?” you ask logan as he rummages around the cabinets for something to eat.

“no,” he answers, opening the fridge, “are you?”

“yeah, i’m driving,” you tell him. there’s a beat of silence before you add, “you should come.”

he turns toward you at your words with a crooked smile. “oh yeah?” he questions, “why? ‘you want me there?”

you scoff with no heat behind it. “i was just trying to be nice,” you say.

“you? nice?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“what? you don’t think i’m nice?” you ask him defensively, crossing your arms.

“no,” he replies, not skipping a beat.

“i’m very nice,” you counter.

“no, you’re not,” he denies again, also crossing his arms.

in his white beater, crossing his arms makes his arms flex and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the veins of his biceps.

“you have nice hair. there, nice,” you compliment, then add right after, “you’re not balding or anything, which is quite common for men your age.”

“you’re not good at this,” he tells you, looking at your plate to see what you're eating.

“do you want some?” you ask him. you hold your plate across the counter for him to pick off of. he grabs one of your chips and eats it.

“thanks,” he mutters.

“look at me being nice,” you comment and he chuckles deeply.

“shut up,” he returns playfully.

the five of you go to the bar that night, logan joining at your request. he sits at the bar, ordering drink after drink and scanning the bar every so often to make sure you’re alright.

you spend most of your time at ororo’s side. before long, you’re accompanied by a couple of men. you and ororo share side-eyes as they continue to tell stupid jokes. ororo excuses the both of you to go to the bathroom only to move next to logan at the bar.

“having fun?” he asks sarcastically, looking at you then glancing to ororo.

“they could’ve at least been funny, but they weren’t. there terribly unfunny,” you tell him, sitting next to him on a barstool and ororo laughs.

“yeah, that was awful,” she comments and sips her drink. “oh, i see jean and scott. i’ll be back later.” she leaves the two of you. you order a club soda and turn to logan, who is hunched over his drink.

“you have really bad posture,” you tell him as the bartender hands you your drink. he just shrugs and refills his glass with the bottle the bartender left in front of him. you dig your finger into his spine and he straightens up, looking at you wildly.

“why?” is all he asks.

“it’ll help you look more presentable. you’re not looking for anybody tonight?” you ask and glance around the bar for women.

“no, i’m not,” he answers and slumps back down. you dig your finger into his back again and he looks down at you. “stop,” he says seriously.

“oh, what’re you gonna do? stab me?” she asks him challengingly. he looks back down to his drink and shakes his head dismissively. “oh, come on. you’re good-looking, you’re good in bed, you’ve got this hot, animalistic thing going on. why not look for somebody?”

“‘cause i don’t want anybody,” he answers. “did you say i’m good in bed?”

“well, yeah,” you confirm with a one-shouldered shrug.

he stares at you for a beat. this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it before. you don’t talk about the things you two have done. ever.

“i would know,” you add after he stays quiet.

“you would know what?” ororo asks as she rejoins you, along with scott and jean. they all stand directly behind the man, looking at you expectantly. logan’s waiting for you to make up a lie.

“that logan’s good in bed,” you answer, gesturing to the man next to you. his eyebrows raise and he looks directly in front of him, a smirk playing on his lips as he drinks down all of what’s left in his glass and refills it again. you surprise him more and more every day.

“he’s what?” ororo questions, shock written all over her.

you roll your eyes. “you don’t have to do the clueless bit. jean reads minds and i know she’s told you two,” you state, pointing between ororo and scott.

“what? i haven’t—i didn’t—,” jean stutters over her words, laughing through them.

“liar,” you clock it in a high-pitched tone, sipping your drink. “i’ve heard you talk about it before. i’m just surprised you haven’t mentioned it yet.”

the three of them exchange glances. “okay, yeah, we knew. we thought you would deny it anyway so we didn’t bring it up,” ororo admits.

logan stays silent, drinking like he’s been thirsting for days. why are you doing this? “so…you two are…,” scott trails off. you shrug as your answer. “hmm.”

“hey, sweetheart, you never came back,” the guy from early comes up behind you and wraps an around your shoulders. you tense up at the feeling.

you remove his hand from you. “don’t touch me, and don’t call me sweetheart,” you tell him. he laughs and looks at your colleagues.

“why not? looks like everybody’s got a matchup here but you. let me help you fix that,” he says and runs the knuckles of his finger across your collarbone. he points at scott and jean, then logan and ororo. “i can make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“seriously, don’t touch me,” you tell him firmly, pushing his hand off your shoulder and shifting your seat away from him.

logan doesn’t watch the encounter but he’s squeezing the glass in his hand so hard it’s about to shatter. he feels the red-hot rage crawl up his neck as he does every time he encounters some asshole in a bar.

“don’t be like that, sweetheart,” the man continues and reaches for the strap over your shoulder. chills cover your arms and legs and a shiver runs down your spine. you grab his hand roughly and shove it away from you.

“touch me again and i’m gonna break your fucking nose,” you tell him.

“ooh, i got a feisty one,” he comments to the rest of your group, laughing. “i like that.”

scott takes a step forward. “you need to lay off, man,” he tells him, trying to keep this civil and contained.

the man only laughs harder. “what are you gonna do, glasses?” he asks him and slings his arm over your shoulders. “come on, baby, let’s get out of here. i got a real nice spot for you in my bed.”

“she already told you not to touch her, bub,” logan chimes in, still looking straight ahead and not sparing the boy a glance. there’s a tightness in his shoulders as he uses all his self control to stay in his seat.

“woah, tell your bodyguards to stand down,” he says to you but your only response is to rear back and deck him directly in the nose.

he stumbles back, holding his nose as blood drips into his hand. “you dumb bitch—,” he lunges toward you but logan whips around and grabs him by the front of his shirt, shoving him up against a wall.

“what’d you say?” the mutant asks him lowly, a growl deep in his throat.

“hey, take it outside!” the bartender yells at the man.

“why don’t we do that? you wanna take it outside?” logan asks the scared man in his grasp, shoving him harder into the wall.

“logan, let’s go,” ororo tells him as she walks with you toward the door. he doesn’t move. “logan!”

he drops his hold on the man and turns his back to him. he doesn’t even take a step before the dumbass says, “yeah, listen to your bitch.”

logan turns back around and absolutely socks him in the jaw. the man falls to the ground. logan walks after his friends, rolling his shoulders.

when logan gets out to the car, he sees you in the driver's seat, holding your hand closely to his body. he sits in the passenger seat and looks at you.

“are you okay?” he asks you carefully.

“did you kill him?” you ask him flatly without meeting his gaze, and he shakes his head. “you should’ve,” you say coldly and start the engine, driving out of the parking lot and back to the mansion as quickly as possible.

when you arrive, logan accompanies you to the lab for jean to look at your hand. he wasn’t going to say anything but watching you cradle your hand makes him change his mind. “are you alright?” he asks you.

“fine,” you reply sharply, clenching your jaw tightly. he watches you bite at your lip.

“speak your mind,” he tells you, just outside the hidden elevator. you just shake your head at him. “if you don’t, you’ll take it out on jean.”

“why can’t i just do that?” you ask lowly.

“‘cause she doesn’t deserve it,” he reasons.

you take a deep, frustrated breath. “what happened tonight was stupid,” you say, “dumb fucking men thinking they can get whatever they want whenever they want. now my hand might be broken because i couldn’t—,” you cut yourself off and take another deep breath to steady yourself. “i’m done talking about this,” you say and open the door to the hidden elevator.

he blocks your path. “no, you’re not,” he says and waits for you to continue. that’s when the dam really breaks and you last out at him.

“it’s stupid. all of this is fucking stupid. i could’ve handled myself back there. i didn’t need you to step up and be my big, strong savior,” you tell him angrily, voice rising.

“i know,” he returns.

you’re shouting now, “then why couldn’t you just let me do it? i could’ve stopped him. i’m stronger now. i know how to fight now. i don’t need anybody to save me. i can save myself. i don’t need you. i don’t need any of you.” your voice cracks as the anger starts to shift into the feelings you hate to feel. “i’m not gonna let anyone take advantage of me ever again. and i’ll break every bone in my body before i let some drunk narcissistic man ever put his hands on me again,” you say your peace and breathe heavily and unsteadily.

there’s a long pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. logan doesn’t interrupt, giving you the floor to get it all out.

“i know,” he repeats himself deeply, “but you shouldn't have to.”

you feel that familiar ache in the back of your throat as tears threaten to spill out. you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, pushing all the emotions back down. “my hand really hurts,” you tell him quietly, not trusting your voice. he puts his hand gently on your back and leads you into the elevator then into the lab.

by the time you’re in front of jean, you’ve pulled yourself together and let her examine your hand. you did break your hand. she wraps it up for you and sends you to your room with some pain meds.

logan doesn’t leave your side until you’re at your bedroom door. “i don’t want you to come inside,” you tell him quietly. he stays silent. “it’s just that you’ve never seen my room before and this is mostly where i use my abilities and it’s messy right now and—.”

“‘t’s fine,” he interrupts your rambling. “i don’t have to come inside.”

“right,” you mumble, hand gripping the doorknob. “good night.”

“‘night.” he doesn’t make his way to his room until you slip into yours, locking the door behind you.

the next mid-morning, logan walks into the kitchen to see jean scolding you like a child. he’s surprised you’re just sitting there and taking it without a word.

“i’m serious,” jean says, finishing her tongue lashing.

“i know,” you mumble before jean offers logan a soft ‘good morning’ as she leaves.

“what was that about?” he asks you, moving over to the table where you sit with paper spread in front of you.

“i need to grade these papers but my hand is broken and dr grey told me it would only cause more damage,” you explain, sighing heavily and holding the pen in your healthy hand.

“let me help,” he says, snatching the pen from your fingers and the paper from in front of you. the numbers on the sheet are all greek to him. he doesn’t know what the hell he’s looking at.

“you can’t,” you tell him, pulling the paper from his hands. “you don’t know how to do it.”

“then tell me,” he offers, moving his chair next to yours. “tell me what’s wrong and i’ll write it down.”

you shake your head a few times before giving in. “fine,” you cave and look over the student’s work. you place the page in front of the man and point a certain part of a problem. “okay, so he should’ve foil’d here but he didn’t so the rest of the work is wrong. put a line through it and write ‘foil’,” you instruct him and he follows your orders.

“like that?” he asks, showing you. you nod in approval.

“your handwriting actually isn’t that bad. i was expecting a lot worse,” you comment, leaning into him as you look over the next problem. “that one’s right, so put a check,” you tell him and he follows.

the process continues on. every time there’s a gap of silence as you examine the math that he would never even try to understand, he watches you in complete admiration. there are practically hearts in his eyes while the gears turn in your brain.

as the next few days progress, you and logan spend more time together than you ever have. whether he’s in your classroom during your free period or you watch whatever movie’s on tv together on the couch, if someone’s looking for logan, you’re right beside him and vice versa.

of course, the others have taken notice of it. it’s new and after you confirmed you had been sleeping together, they draw their own conclusions about the two of you.

“‘y’know what i would like to see?” you prompt logan as you watch a show with a lumberjack in it.

“what’s that, darlin’?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“you chop wood,” you tell him, looking up at him from your spot under his arm.

“chop wood?” he questions.

“yeah, like, axe, wood, outside, shirtless, sweaty, and muscly, chopping wood,” you tell him, “lumberjack style.”

“lumberj—.”

“with the cigar,” you add excitedly, cutting him off. “maybe add in a little dehydration too.”

“i think you’re drooling a little bit,” he tells you, pointing at your mouth as a lazy smile rests on his face.

“probably, that’s hot,” you tell him, looking back at the screen.

as the credits roll, logan looks down to see you sound asleep with your head resting on his chest. he carefully picks you up in his arms and carries you to your room.

he opens the door and pauses his movements, eyes dancing across your room. there are no personal touches on the walls or shelves. it looks exactly like his did when he first got to the mansion. well, except for one obvious difference.

your room looks completely dilapidated, like an abandoned home that the sun and time have destroyed. the dark color of the wooden floors and furniture has faded, every surface dry and brittle. in some parts, mostly near the window, the wood is completely bleached of its color.

he lays you in your bed and covers you up, taking in the room once more before he leaves.

“why don’t you have another name like everyone else?” he asks as you sit next to him on the bench where you now regularly take your smoke breaks on.

“like a last name? i do have one,” you answer, flicking the butt of your cigarette onto the pavement.

“scott has cyclops, marie’s got rogue,” he elaborates, glancing over at you. you’re sitting right beside him, his arm thrown over the back of the bench in a way that your head rests on it.

“i don’t know. i guess i never understood why i have to change my name just because i’m a mutant. i am who i am, human or mutant,” you answer, messing with a loose thread on your pants. “plus, seeing the way you made fun of the others when you first got here for their names—i’d never even try to think of one now,” you tell him, making him chuckle. you smile proudly at making him laugh. “you looked so cute when you first got here.”

“are you saying i’m not cute anymore?” he asks in mock offense, looking at you sideways.

“i mean, when i first saw you, you had that big jacket on and you were so clueless. a little less muscle too,” you recount, poking his toned stomach to which he curls to the side. your jaw drops. “are you ticklish?” you ask him, a smile growing on your face.

“no,” he replies sharply and gruffly, straightening his posture.

“oh, my fuck. you so are ticklish,” you accuse and dig your fingers into his ribs, attempting to tickle him.

a deep laugh leaves him, and he grabs your hand in his, his facial expression dropping quickly. “stop,” he tells you in warning. you just laugh in his face, reaching toward him with your other hand, cigarette still between your fingers. he grabs your other hand before you touch him, cigar between his fingers. “no,” he denies you.

you look toward the mansion and see the sun reflecting off a window. you bend the light so it’s shining directly in his eyes, almost burning them. he shuts his eyes tightly and brings one of his hands up to his face. as quickly as you can, you reach back into his side.

he quickly stands up and looks down at you. “enough,” he says and points a finger in your face.

you stand up also, but you’re shorter than him so he’s still looking down at you. you decide to stand on the bench, now a little taller than he is. you don’t say anything, just look down on him with a straight face.

logan can’t help the smile that breaks his scowl. “you’re an idiot,” he tells you, raising his eyebrows at you.

you mimic his gesture then flick the cigarette butt onto the ground. “you are cute, wolvie,” you say and ruffle his hair. “i get the whole towering over people know. this is a power trip for sure,” you comment.

“oh, really?” he questions and puts the cigar between his lips. he grabs you around your waist and throws you over his shoulder like you’re as light as a feather.

you let out a surprised squeal as he walks away from your bench with you in his hold. “put me down. bad boy, bad dog,” you chastise him hitting his lower back. he doesn’t listen so you just hang over his shoulder as he drags you into the mansion.

you grab his ass abruptly and he stops in his tracks. he places you on the floor and tilts his head as he looks into your eyes, taking the cigar from his mouth. “‘bad dog’?”

“yeah, wolverine,” you say, gesturing to him.

“a wolverine’s not a dog,” he tells you, smiling down at you.

your brow furrows. “yeah, it’s like a small wolf, right?” you wonder and feel like an idiot when he laughs at you.

“no,” he answers, shaking his head.

“liar,” you accuse.

he tells you, “go to the zoo. there’s some there.”

you look up at him in disbelief. “you’re fucking with me,” she states and he shakes his head in complete amusement. “if you’re lying to me, i’ll—.”

“what? try to blind me again?” he asks, cutting you off.

“maybe i will,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

he pauses for a moment, considering. “maybe i want you to,” he says and his tone drops, like, two octaves when he says it.

you’re suddenly aware of how close the two of you are, how his hands gripped your waist just a moment before, how effortlessly he carried you. the playful atmosphere shifts and you feel heat creep up your neck and across your cheeks. you don’t blush, especially not around him.

“logan,” is all you say softly. he notices the change in tone. he notices everything about you, every detail, every flaw, every perfection.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the air between you is charged. your eyes travel all over his face. he really is such an attractive guy. and when you peel back the tough guy layer, he’s a sweetheart.

“thanks for the ride,” you say lightly, trying to break the tension.

he nods, gaze still locked on you. “anytime,” he remarks, his voice rougher than it was a moment before.

you both stand there for a few more seconds, not really sure where to go from here. his eyes shift from yours to your lip as you chew on it. his jaw tightens and he looks away from you, taking a step back to give you some space.

your heart pounds against your chest unfamiliarly. everything about this feels so new to you.

“see you around, pup,” you say, your voice back to its teasing tone.

“yeah,” he adds, watching as you turn away and walk back toward the mansion.

more days pass and you spend more time with logan. he notices that you make fun of him more, teasing him for small stuff.

it’s only when he’s in the laundry room that ororo catches him alone. “hey, logan,” she greets. he mumbles something of the same. “so…you look pretty cozy with a certain mutant.”

“huh?”

“you know what i’m talking about,” she says, leaning against a washing machine.

“it’s nothing,” he tells her, starting the machine he threw his clothes into haphazardly.

“‘doesn’t look like nothing,” she returns.

“leave it alone,” he grumbles, turning to leave the room.

ororo steps in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. “please, don’t hurt her, logan,” she requests.

“she doesn’t want me the way you think,” he tells her.

“you can’t seriously believe that,” she says, looking back and forth between his eyes.

at that very moment, you turn the corner and your eyes widen. you ignore the sting in your chest as you let out a loud “woah.” ororo quickly turns around and takes a step away from logan. “i didn’t mean to interrupt,” you tell them with your hands up in surrender, but that was exactly your intention when you spoke up.

“you weren’t interrupting anything,” logan tells you, watching you move past him to grab a laundry basket.

“i’m not judging,” you reply, walking back to the door. you turn back last second and look at ororo. “hey, if he asks you to wear a red wig, say no,” you tell her with a wink before leaving.

“i never—,” logan cuts himself off, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “i never did that,” he says to her.

“God, i hope not. what the hell,” she remarks, shoving his arm. “she was jealous. you need to go tell her nothing happened.” he sighs deeply and takes a step forward. “‘you really still think she doesn’t want you?”

he doesn’t reply and follows after you. you’re walking as quickly as you can up the stairs when he catches up to you. “hey,” he calls after you.

“don’t worry, buddy. secret’s safe with me,” you tell him, picking up your pace as you reach the top of the stairs but he keeps in step with you.

“there’s not a secret. we were just talking,” he says.

you place a hand on your bedroom doorknob. “really, you don’t have to defend yourself to me,” you say and open your door, slipping inside. before you can shut it, logan stops the door with his hand. you look at him through the crack in the door, pushing your lips into a thin line. “uhm…”

“there’s nothing going on between me and storm,” he tells you.

“i’m not gonna tell anybody,” you return, frustration rising in your tone. you push against the door but your strength is in no way comparable to his.

“i’m serious,” he tries again, almost pleading. “i don’t want her, i want—.”

“jean? look at that, finishing each other’s sentences again,” you cut him off with a false laugh.

“come on, darlin‘,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

you groan. “i just thought—,” you stop yourself, sighing. “it doesn’t matter what i thought.”

“it does matter,” he tells you, pushing the door a little wider. you move into the space between the doorway and the door, trying to block his view into the room. “tell me,” he encourages, getting closer to you.

“i thought you weren’t a whore,” you retort, giving him a hardened look.

“that’s not what you were gonna say,” he states lowly, looking deeply into your eyes. “what was it?” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting into the skin. he reaches his hand to your jaw, his thumb pulling the lip from between your teeth. “don’t do that. you know it drives me crazy.”

“i thought maybe you wanted me for more than sex,” you admit, feeling embarrassed as the words slip out. you clench your jaw, preparing for the rejection. a smirk slide onto his face and you drop your head. “okay, bye.”

you move back and push against the door again, but this time he pushes the door all the way open. your eyes widen as he takes a long stride toward you and pulls you back to him by the back of your neck. he presses his lips against yours feverishly to which you obviously reciprocate.

he pulls away and rests his forehead against yourself, breathing heavily. “i want you in every way possible, sweetheart,” he says.

you swallow thickly, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away. “you don’t want me,” you tell him. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back into him, your chest pushing against his.

“i do,” he counters.

“you don’t,” you respond.

there’s a beat of silence. “i do,” he says again. you just look up into his eyes. “i want you. i’m not the best person for you, i know that. i’m older and unhappy and i probably can’t be there for you emotionally,” he lists then shakes his head at you, looking at you like you make the world go round. “but i want you, i want every part of you—the good, the bad, the hot and sexy, and the rude and snappy. everything.”

you’re quiet. you don’t know what to say, what is there to even say? in your head, he’s always wanted jean and you were just a place filler. you’ve been under the impression that you caught feelings and he didn’t reciprocate them at all. maybe you’re wrong just this once.

“i want you too,” you tell him in a whisper. he watches your brow furrow as you look away from his eyes. his face falls. “but—.”

“no ‘but.’ don’t say ‘but’,” he begs, loosening his grip on your waist.

“logan, i can live with you not being there for me emotionally, but i don’t know if you can live with me not being for you sexually,” you tell him. dread takes over your body. this beautiful, morally grey, perfect-for-you man is in the palm of your hand and you’re letting him slip through your fingers.

her visible confusion deepens. “you’ve been perfect for the past few months,” he tells you, misinterpreting your words as insecurity.

you shake your head. “i meant it when i said i can’t fuck you sober,” you tell him slowly, avoiding his gaze completely. you feel his hands move from his loosened grip to a hover over your hips. you can’t read his mind like you usually can. logan wears his thoughts on his face, perfectly readable when he’s mad or happy or just his normal grumpy. but now, it’s like trying to read a book in a language you didn’t know existed. “i’m sorry,” you add when his silence becomes too much.

“i don’t care,” he tells you as soon as you finish the last syllable.

“you know i don’t apologize for shit and you don’t care that i’m sorry?” you ask him. you go to push him off again but he pulls you back in, this time wrapping his around your neck, smothering your face in his burly chest.

“i don’t care about sex,” he tells you as he rests his head atop yours. you return the embrace and hold him around his ribs. “i don’t care if you never touch me again. i love you.” your eyes widen and he feels your body tense up. he chuckles, pulling away and smiling at you. “too soon?”

“a little,” you tell him, nodding. you then smile back at him.

———

a/n: i haven’t written in a long time . pls don’t rip me up if u hate this🙏

[boowritess]

Babe I’m begging you to imagine the newest batch of rookies talking about not so badass reader and they’re just passing these legendary war stories back and forth.

There’s a rumor that the reader once killed a man with only a lemon wedge and a shoelace. One newbie says they saw footage of reader taking down a dozen enemy soldiers in the same amount of time it takes to peel a banana. Another said reader was raised by assassins and took down their first mark at age 10.

Nearly 10 feet away the 141 boys are listening to this and collectively thinking back to that morning when they watched the reader spread peanut butter onto bread with a butter knife, drop both the bread (which lands face down) and the knife which they accidentally kick under the refrigerator.

There’s a beat of silence and then a long tortured sigh, and in an accent they had never heard the reader use before they say

“Life is short but also like terribly and insufferably long at the same time.” (Jenna Marbles).

No one but Gaz has any idea what that means but Price thinks it might be some obscure internet reference.

There’s a silent understanding between the boys that if the reader ever kills someone it will be completely by accident.

not my queen and god jenna fucking marbles getting mentioned !!! and also how tf did you know i like peanut butter ?? you is a psychic fr.

i see the headcanons that ghost is this cryptic being around base with strange stories but i am LIVING for reader being one instead.

and i love the idea of reader who overhears the rookies talking and are quick to assume they're talking about ghost.

like reader just suddenly speaks up, leaning against the wall, eating bread, (nothings on it, it's just bread - which only unknowingly adds to readers supposed origin story -)

"one time it was just nothing but teeth-"

"teeth?" *rookie*.

"yeah teeth." reader says with a nod, biting into the plain bread. reader shrugs so casually. "tearing into people's neck. blood, and flesh everyone."

and maybe it's because the main source of light coming from the hallway is behind reader. It makes reader engulfed in black. their shadow filling the room. the rookies staring in what could be horror or disgust, maybe both...

"y'know it just... makes you think. doesn’t it?" readers head turns to the group of rookies. who can feel your eyes digging into them, looking at their exposed flesh.

they suddenly make up excuses and leave the room. making reader let out a thoughtful hum, slowly nodding their head and quietly whispering to themselves, "They get it... I should check out ghost's teeth..." reader mumbles before turning and nearly running into the doorframe.

what i also like about this hc, is that the 141 are totally in on it. spreading stories to the recruits because they think it's the funniest thing.

soap's just casually chatting with a rookie who sees a tiny peeble. he picks it up, holding it to the rookie. "ye know, reader threw one of these so hard and fast that it went right through the scalp of a target we had to take out." soap drawls, then tosses it over his shoulder with a smile on his face while the rookie is just awestruck.

or ghost and gaz are playing poker with some rookies for once.

gaz picks up his newly dealt cards, "Oh ghost, doesn't this remind you of when reader slit the throats of those mafia guys with playing cards." gaz chimes, meeting ghost's eyes across from him. a silent agreement that only they could understand.

ghost nods his head, "yup, then reader used ice on the last guy because the cards got too wet from the blood."

one rookie manages to speak up, "...ice...? but how-?"

ghost and gaz in unison, "you don't want to know."

later that evening, they go into the 141 common room- where reader has managed to find an old wii console and is making price play with them. only to catch reader ready to swing the remote, only to let go on accident and hit the tv square in the middle making the whole screen glitch then go black. and you also fall flat on your ass.

price looks so dissapointed but not surprised.

but gaz, ghost and soap look thoughtful. they could totally spin this into your supposed 'badass backstory.'

[in3rci4]

Can I get an Angst with all the boys, having a crush on gn reader who is new in town and heterochromia? ( If you can of course💕)

It's the first time I do a request fr 😭

It's ok , it's normal to be nervous when requesting if you're new or not used to it , hopefully I'll do my best with this one , enjoy it anon , thank you for sending your request 💕 !

°°°IT'S THE EYES . IT WAS ALL IN THEIR EYES °°°

Author's note : I been slow with publishing stuff because personal life is becoming more a survival than living , so sorry if it takes some requests too long to get done , but I'm slowly , yet surely , getting the ones I have done one step at the time .

Characters included in the following headcanons : Robin Arellano , Griffin Stagg , Vance Hopper , Finney Blake , Bruce Yamada , Billy Showalter

WARNINGS ! : CHARACTER X READER CONTENT , IGNORANCE / DISBELIEF ABOUT THE SYNDROME , BULLYING , THIS MIGHT BE SHORTER THAN EXPECTED , SOME MIGHT BE SHORTER THAN OTHERS , THERE'S PROBABLY SPELLING MISTAKES , GENDER NEUTRAL READER , CRINGE ��? PROBABLY CRINGE , 2 SIDES , ONE WITH FLUFF , ONE WITH ANGST ( AND IT MIGHT NOT BE SO X READER TYPE OR BE A SENSITIVE TOPIC TO READ , ALSO THE CHARACTERS ARE MEAN ON THE ANGST ) TOXICITY ¿? DISCRIMINATION , MANIPULATION ¿? , ETC

ROBIN ARELLANO

≈ This guy is in love with your eyes , they're so unique , so badass , so special of yours , you're like a cool character of a movie or like a kickass villain

≈ Robin is a boy who loves everything that it's out of the normality , the more different , the more harder to forget , the better .

≈ If you felt insecure for your eye colors before then you'll be no more with him by your side ! He will compliment you without shame in front of others and he won't stop until you're all flustered and blushing

≈ But all jokes aside , once he get to know you and learned more about you , Robin will always remember you to not feel bad about your looks , it's not like you can control it , and it's nothing bad that you need to hide either

≈ if you want to buy contact lenses to match both eyes he won't stop you , but he'll be sad for not being able to see the real look in your eyes anymore

≈ He sometimes jokes about being jealous of your eyes , you get to have 2 colors and he only got 1 , that's not fair ! He wants to look just as cool as you

≈ You will always have his protection and support , no one will make fun of you , no one , and the one who dares to will feel a physical payment for playing stupid games in their faces

≈ Don't ever feel bad about yourself , because you'll have an annoying and romantic Robin making sure to bust your ego over the sky and taking photos whenever he can

≈ But that isn't so bad , isn't ?

GRIFFIN STAGG

° He's so sorry for being the ones who believed in the rumours it was contagious in the past , for being ignorant and avoiding you like the rest of the students

° Growing up he realized it was something stupid to think on , if it was contagious , then why nobody has changed eye colors yet ?

° Maybe you don't , but Griffin does remember well the day you two started to be friends

° The day you decided not to do anything in P.E class because you felt physically bad , and he , since nobody wanted him on their team , didn't lose anything by also not doing exercise either . You sat next to him , and started a casual conversation that turned out to be a funny exchange

° Casual conversations started to be more interested on each other's likes , conversations in each other's likes lead to gossip sessions , gossip became deep talks about the future and other corny shit that Griffin didn't thought he'll talk with someone ever

° He compares your eyes a lot with things , now that he learned to appreciate them , he can't stop remember you everytime a combination of color is the same as the look in your eyes

° You can say that your charm is contagious , and he's more than happy to be infected by love for you

VANCE HOPPER

♠ While others kids thought you were weird or cool , Vance thought you were a pretender

♠ Can you blame him though ? He hasn't seen somebody like you in his entire life , it's impossible for someone to have their eyes like that ! You must be using contact lenses or some shit !

♠ The evening he realized you weren't faking , he melted like ice cream in summer right there in front of you ( But you didn't noticed it )

♠ He stormed furious out of the mall when in a bad day he couldn't even get to the half of his high score , and accidently bumped into you . He looked into your eyes mad as hell , not expecting at all to see your pupils getting bigger , frozen about how fucked up it was to know that you truly had such a unique pair of eyes

♠ After an awkward time he slowly started to greet you " indifferently " , drawing you on his special notebook when the teachers didn't bothered him , and sometimes inviting you to watch him play Pin Ball when he felt cocky enough

♠ Hope you don't mind intense staring , because Vance is all about looking straight into your soul , he can't help it , or well , maybe he can because he can be a little of a tsundere

♠ To be honest he'll stare at your eyes all day if he could , but he's too of a dork to admit it , or decide if he likes it when you look at him or not due how flustered you make him feel

♠ And yeah , he will start a fight for you if someone dares to mock you , it's obvious , but it's a nice thing to think about

FINNEY BLAKE

∞ Finney is more curious than avoidant , he feels guilty for looking at you so much , you may had felt the hairy eyeball before and don't like it but , you're so .... Interesting ? Beautiful ? It's hard to describe

∞ Even for A or B you'll meet and trust my word , he's going to be respectful all the time he's with you . Only if you gave him permission to , he'll ask you more about your condition and how it exactly effects you , but don't worry , once he get all his doubts solved , he will move on and ask you about yourself

∞ He understands it yet he does not understand how someone could hate you by the color of your eyes , he doesn't even get racism and now we have people insult you by the color of your eyes ? By something you didn't choose to have ? Like what ?

∞ You're special ( and attractive he may add ) from the rest and that's gonna get more staring than someone else will have , sure , but he'll be angrily confused if someone bothered you in front of him , now we're bullying people for their genetics ? Come on man

∞ Finney would try to get you out of a uncomfortable situation , but if it persists , he might be verbally violent or push the person to tell them to back off and leave you alone

∞ Bonus : Gwen does the same with you , although she loves to tease Finney in your presence , she likes you though , she just does the " sibling annoying the other " things

∞ He has a special love letter that he never gave you were he used astronomy elements to describe you and the look in your eyes , but he was to embarrassed or afraid of rejection that he kept it for himself

∞ You read it , but you never told Finney and kept the secret

BRUCE YAMADA

★ Ignorance isn't a sin some people say , but he pity you when he first saw you and until this day he can't believe how dumb he was

★ Bruce mind was like " Aw poor kid they probably have problems with their vision " as if he knew what exactly condition you have

★ He felt like a dumbass the day you tapped his shoulder to tell him from really far away that someone was trying to steal his bike after one of his games

★ To thank you for the gesture ( ahem , and clear his mind from the guilt ) he invited you to watch a movie in the cinema ( Jaws 2 being his option and yours Star Wars 4 , you both watched the two of the movies because in one you sneak in between the crowd anyway )

★ after that movie night everything went smooth , until the point that neither of you acknowledge the fact that you still didn't confessed yet and were already lovey dovey with each other

★ He has the privilege to say he has a partner that has no comparation , there's no other you , and Bruce loves that

★ Bruce loves you and those special eyes that life has gave you

BILLY SHOWALTER

🔺 Billy knew animals could had two different colors in their eyes , but he didn't thought it was possible for a human too

🔺 It was a shame how nobody saw that special shine in you , or maybe they did , but they decided it was too bright for them and tried to turn you down

🔺 But you never let them took advantage of you , and he was proud that you know your worth and didn't let the negativity get you

🔺 He didn't stuttered or thought twice when you asked him on a date , you were his crush , of course he's gonna say yes !

🔺 Billy is not only an admirer of you and your lovely eyes , but a flatterer as well

🔺 At first , the compliments were accidents that escaped from his mouth before he noticed he was talking in loud voice , but with time , he became more and more confident to tell you how gorgeous you look , how you make him feel , his plans for the future , etc

🔺 If Billy has the chance to , he's gonna spoil the hell out of you , just to give you a material proof how much he loves you , so he can see that singular look in your eyes everytime you're happy , forever .

ANGST PART

They would love you of course , they can't control their hearts to stop beating for you every time you look at them or smile , but love sometimes ain't all rainbows and butterflies .

Now why or why you were born like this ? Why you couldn't just be normal ? Everything could be so perfect , so beautiful , if you didn't look different and just be like other people .

In a bad dream type of reality , they will cross the limits so they don't feel " ashamed " to be seen with you

BRUCE AND BILLY would suggest the idea of buying contact lenses to match your eyes with only one color , Billy being the one telling you that it's necessary that you should had them , BRUCE being the one who bought them without asking you first as a " gift " , thinking it was the best idea , after all , the two of you would look much better as a couple in people's eyes if you did

ROBIN AND FINNEY would keep you as their secret , no one has to know their feelings for you or your relationship if you ever had one , FINNEY afraid of having another reason to be bullied because of you or having his father mock his selection of partner , ROBIN because he's ashamed of liking someone that doesn't look " right " and is "pointed by God "

VANCE AND GRIFFIN would backstabbed you when you started to get used to the idea of having someone by your side , VANCE would mock you and insult you in front of his friends or people if that made him look better , GRIFFIN would act as if he doesn't know you when you needed him the most , without a feeling completely guilty for it , perhaps not even a little if that makes you and people's starting at him when he's by your side go away

It's just the way things are . It's how your eyes are .

[manjiroscum]

who’s your (baby) daddy. [1]

╰┈➤ After being dumped by your boyfriend of 3 years, you decide to switch things up and go on your own version of a “hot girl summer”—subsequently finding yourself with a surprise that would arrive in 9 months time. The catch? You have absolutely no idea which of the men you slept with is your baby’s daddy.

𖨆♡𖨆 nanami x reader, gojou x reader, toji x reader, sukuna x reader

# explicit smut, puking, angst, heartbreak, pregnancy, breakups, alcohol, justin bieber, language, MDNI

‗ ❍ masterlist

“Oh, fuck me.”

Head bent forward, body slumped into a half curl was how the morning found you, sun rays innocently prickling your closed eyes as you heaved up half of yesterday’s dinner. Not caring that you were supposed to be at work half an hour ago, you ignored the calls that were coming into your phone, picking up the last one that went on for a second too long.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, where the hell are you?” Your head editor of Tokyo Today’s business desk (and massive asshole extraordinaire who always scheduled you for last-minute news) screeched from the other end of the call.

“You were supposed to be at Izuyama’s public listing ceremony an hour ago.”

Keep reading

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hi 👋🏽 I really like your stuff! I was wondering; could we possibly have some platonic headcanons for Husk where he has this unspoken kind of parent-kid relationship with the reader?

And the funny thing is that some of the others speculate that it’s no coincidence that the reader’s weirdly good at cards. Like, the reader doesn’t look exactly like him per say, but they bare enough of a resemblance to him that it has the other wondering is Husk could have possibly (unknowingly) had a kid while he was alive. No one knows. Not even us.

♦️ plz, and thank you ♥️

This is so fucking cute!!

Husk X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Reader being a sad baby, Kidnapping, Underage drinking, Harassment, Reader needs help fr

Description: ☝️⬆️

Sure, technically you were an adult but you're also still just a kid

You thought you knew everything, you thought you were grown and didn't need to rely on anybody

You didn't need to open up to anybody, you grew up tough and went out like a badass

You weren't hurt or angry at the world at all

It's your attitude towards these things that makes Husk look out for you, keeping a watchful eye on you even when you don't want him to

You're trying to get a drink at a bar?? He's dragging you out and telling you that you're too young for that shit

Fucking hypocrite you drink all the time

You're getting into a fight with someone 10x your fucking size?? Husk is there to tackle them and take you home

Lectures you the entire way back if you're the one who started it

Some sleazy motherfucker is hitting on you?(Or even if it's not someone sleazy really) He's there to tell them to keep walking

Even if you don't want them to

BRO WTF

Even the others at the hotel slip up and call him your dad which just pisses you off even more

"Angel! Let me have a drink!!"

"No way, kid! Your pops would totally kill me if I let you get wasted!"

Definitely causes some arguments between you two, the kind that makes everyone else in the hotel scatter

"You're not in charge of me, Husk! Just leave me alone!!"

"You think you got it all figured out, don't you? Well you fucking don't! You're not the biggest baddest thing out there! Hell, you're not even the baddest thing in this hotel!"

Not Alastor giving you cheeky wave as he walks by

Once the fight reaches it's peak then you storm off, fed up with being treated like a child

"I don't need a father so just back off!"

Husk needs a drink

Fine, let's see how you like it when nobody is looking out for you

You and Husk don't speak for awhile after that but you're too stubborn to admit that you miss him

You begin to act out whether you realize it or not, wanting him to come and yell at you like he used to

It was actually nice having someone who cared enough about you to fight with you over your choices

So you take your newfound freedom and sneak into a club that you've been trying to get into for awhile

You meet some fun people and party with them, drinking every drink they slide your way, dancing with whoever grabbed you

After awhile though you begin to feel dizzy and sick, you desperately need some fresh air

And some water

"Hey where you going, squirt??? We're just getting started!!"

Hey let go-

Ow! That hurts! Why are you grabbing so hard!?

I said let go of me-

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

HUSK-

You nearly cry at the sight of him, fur bristling with anger, wings spread out, arms crossed

You break away and run to him immediately, hugging him tight and relaxing as he wraps a protective arm around you

You'll blame it on the alcohol later

"You okay, kid?"

You don't see how he never takes his eyes off your friends turned attackers

You just nod and hide your face in his chest, squeezing him tighter

"I wanna go home..."

Husk immediately softens up and carries you home, making sure nobody follows the two of you

He takes care of you the entire night and has a hangover remedy ready for you in the morning

No lecture from him this time, he just quietly takes care of you then leaves

Charlie and Vaggie will later tell you that he stayed with you the whole night, refusing to leave your side

You'll have to seek him out on your own once you feel better, sitting on a bar stool and clearing your throat

"I'm not going to fix you a drink so just forget it-"

"Thank you...for...you know..."

Husk visibly softens up once he registers your words, sighing as he sets his rag down

It takes all of his strength to power through his next words, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable

Telling you that he's not trying to baby you when he stops you from doing certain things, or when he tells you that you're too young

He's just trying to look out for you because he cares about you

And no matter how angry with him you get, he'll always come bail you out of trouble and you can always come to him with anything

Sure, he might not be your father but he's definitely your daddy

Wait fuck that came out wrong

DON'T YOU LAUGH AT HIM

It sounded cool in the movie!!

It's not that funny!! You are ruining the moment

Husk is so fucking embarrassed now, forget he said anything

Freezes up when you suddenly leap across the counter to hug his neck, squeezing him in a way that makes his heart melt

Hugs you back while awkwardly petting your head, feeling like his old heart is about to burst

"Thanks for everything, Husk~"

NO HE'S NOT CRYING

I GOT VERY CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I'M SORRY!! I hope you still enjoy it!!

[xxchumanixx]

Hii, I have a request Tim Bradford X Grey!reader, I really liked the other one where she is Sergeant Grey’s adoptive daughter.

So basically she is a detective in another station, because you know, conflict of interests since she is his daughter.

she is younger than Tim, so age gap, 25 or so. She is a complete badass fr

and she goes to an undercover mission, a fancy party or something like that, alone. and things kinda get complicated, so the sergeant of the station where she works calls for backup, her father, because they are closer to where she is and also because he thought Wade would want to know his daughter is in danger.

so they get the call, and go to the place, and at first they don’t know she is grey’s daughter. They didn't know he had another daughter and that she was a detective, just because doing this dangerous job he was trying to protect her.

but she was handling things beautifully💅🏻💅🏻, and once they got there she had the suspects under control and was just slightly injured (like her arm idk). And she did it in a dress and in high heels 💅🏻💅🏻. I imagine she would be very sassy like Grey, also kind brag about what she just did. and then she starts flirting with Tim, HARD, in front of everyone and he starts blushing, absolutely melting because of her duh. everyone thought that was it, but no, she then transfers to her father station and from there her and Tim start dating, even if they shouldn’t, so once a few months has passed (and EVERYBODY knew but her father 💀💀, Angela and Nyla were for sure teasing them about it) he goes to Wade and gives up his position (Metro Tim has me in a chokehold 🥵🥵, y/n’s will agree with me for sure, with that cargo pants damn)

and that’s it, sorry it’s pretty long and there are for sure some mistakes, I’m not a native speaker 🥺🥺. Thank u if you will do it ❤️❤️❤️

Give it all

Tim Bradford x Grey!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, reader is Grey's daughter, swearing if you squint, canon typical violence

Word count: 3.386

Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I know it's a hell of a lot late, but I didn't get to write it, because you sadly spoilerd me (I was mid season 2 when you sent your request I think) and I didn't even know what you meant with the cargo pants at first😂 But now that I've watched til the end of season 5 (still waiting with bated breath for season 6 to air in Germany with German sync) I can finally write it.

And I know about those cargo pants now and I have to agree with you. Metro Tim is🔥!

Also, I made the reader a little older, just to stay in the possibilities of becoming a detective at a young age (don't know if it's really possible to become one at 25, so she's 27).

Still hope you'll like it, though!

I suck at titles I'm sorry.

Enjoy!

God damn it.

Why did everything you so neatly planned with your team have to go bust?

It was supposed to be an easy mission - get in, get the intel, get out.

Simple as that.

But nothing ever really goes to plan, does it?

Not to mention the dress you were wearing, intoxicating yet so unpractical. Or the heels at your feet, making it all the more harder to fight.

You were worried about the seam of the dress ripping, as you kicked the guard in front of you down to the ground, sending him asleep with a blow to his face.

It was pretty, but so hard to move in.

"Grey, get your ass out of there and wait for backup!" your commander yelled into the small earpiece you were wearing, making you flinch at his high pitched voice.

If you hadn't known his face, you'd mistaken him for a woman.

Swinging at the man in front of you, you hit his jaw, your fist stinging at the harsh contact. The man reeled back, releasing an angry yell, as he made a run for you.

God damn it.

Ducking away from him you kicked at his legs, using the momentum to disbalance him. He stumbled, but managed to catch himself rather quickly, before he pulled a knife out of his boot.

Really?

Groaning inwardly, you tried to avoid the shiny blade, dodging the blow with a jump to the side. It grazed your skin though, a line of blood soon trickling down your left arm.

So much for the dress now being ruined.

The man ran after you, but you pushed a cart into his way. He fell down on it, his weight being his disadvantage, the knife clattering to the ground.

You pinned him down from behind, cuffing him with the binders you'd found earlier. He tried to push you backwards, but you kneed his groin hard, causing him to cry out in agony, as he stopped struggling.

Pushing him to the ground where the other man was lying, you did the same to the unconscious one, tying his wrists together.

"Backup is there!" Granville gave through the earpiece, your eyes rolling at the information.

A bit late, weren't they?

Huffing, you left the men behind, returning to the grand hall where the gala was being held.

Your dress was ruined, stained with the blood that continued to trickle down your arm, dropping to the floor, and your feet hurt.

The room was earily silent, no music or chattering people. Police crowded the room, guns drawn.

You groaned, when you spotted your father amongst them, rolling your eyes for the millionth time this evening.

They watched you, as you walked towards them, your father's eyes widening at the blood. "You're late." you announced loudly, stopping right in front of the aligned officers. "They're in the office back there."

Wade rolled his eyes, motioning for some of the officers to gather the attackers, and for the rest to back down.

God only knew where your constant eye rolling came from.

"Get an ambulance!" he shouted, as the crowd started to disperse, before he walked over to you. Your eyes swiped over the officers, stopping at a particular handsome face.

He was tall, walking towards you and your father, with a female officer on his tail. "Sarge, what about Torres?" he wanted to know, eyes darting to you in curiosity for a brief moment.

Tilting your head, you gave him a once-over. "Didn't know mid Wilshire had such handsome officers." you pointed out, causing his gaze to snap back to yours.

Your father inhaled sharply, not saying anything though. They didn't know you were his daughter, him trying to shield you from threats.

Bradford, as his name tag read, grew a bit red in the face. Clearing his throat, he returned the gesture of giving you a once-over.

"Oh, upstairs are three more guards." you told your father, crossing your arms over your chest. "They should be still asleep, like the ones in the office."

One of his fingers tapped on his waistband, as he tried to calm himself. You were an adult, a detective working at a station farther down the city. You knew what you were doing.

He was still worried as hell, though.

"Good work." he muttered, avoiding to look at you. He couldn't deny that he preferred you to have a normal job, not risking your life when going undercover like this.

Your gaze went back to Sargeant Bradford, the stripes on his sleeves matching your father's. "I'm detective Y/N Grey." you introduced yourself, holding out your non bloody hand for him to shake.

His breath hitched in his throat at the name, still shaking your hand as he introduced himself as well. "Sargeant Tim Bradford."

"I thought we'd talked about this!" your father interrupted you with a hiss, just as your eyes were about to roam the broad figure of Tim Bradford once more.

Rolling your eyes yet again, you smirked at Tim, ignoring the fuming form of your father right beside you. "Nice to meet you."

Some of the other officers where already looking at you, watching the commotion. The woman that had followed Tim - officer Chen - bit her lip to stop from laughing.

Tim's face grew a deeper red in the meantime.

"Are you in a relationship?" you wanted to know, his eyes widening, as your father grabbed your non injured arm, deciding he had enough.

"Look, the ambulance is there." He tried to be calm, his grip harsh though, as he left you no choice but to follow him.

Sending Tim a wink, you smiled. "Hope we'll meet again, sargeant Bradford."

He didn't answer, only watching your retreating figure with deep interest.

_____

After a rather tiresome talk with your father, resulting in both of you shouting at each other, your captain decided to transfer you - to mid Wilshire.

Your father wasn't happy, knowing he'd now have to watch his own daughter getting in harms way.

Things with Tim were getting interesting, after a few weeks had passed.

You'd kept flirting with him, even though he was a bit hesitant at first. Now that you had transferred, everyone knew who's daughter you were.

He didn't want to end on your father's bad side, though still giving into your flirts after a while. Somewhere along the way he'd asked you out on a date.

It resulted in marvelous sex and more dates. It had clicked instantly, things going beautifully between you.

Feelings sparked, soon resulting in a confession.

You'd been walking through the park in the evening, watching the water from a bridge you were standing on.

His arm was around your waist, his warmth engulfing you. You'd been going on dates for two months now, just having left the restaurant. He'd planned to do it in a more romantic way, telling you how he felt.

As the water rippled beneath you, the moon and the lanterns shining down on it, he turned you towards him, your gaze finding his.

"I'm glad you transferred here." he began, taking your hands in his, entwining your fingers. You leaned more into him, heart beating faster in your chest.

"I'm glad we met and I'm glad you still kept flirting with me, even when I was hesitant about it at first." he continued, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "And I'm glad you accepted to go out on a date with me. I really like you, Y/N... I want you to know, that I've grown feelings for you."

He held his breath, waiting for you to respond.

Your lips split in a broad smile, leaning even closer. "Well, I'm glad that you feel this way." you replied, face inching closer. "Because I've grown feelings for you too, Tim."

He sighed in relief, tugging you closer to cover your lips with his. You returned the kiss, his hands on your waist, as yours brushed through his hair, locking behind his neck.

He was like a drug for you.

He'd swept you off his feet when you first saw him, catching your gaze in an instant. For him it was the same, even with the blood that trickled down your arm, the light scar a reminder of the night you met.

_____

"So, when do we get an invitation for a double date?" Angela quipped, stirring her coffee, as she sat down opposite you. Cocking a brow you looked up from your phone, that goofy smile still glued to your face without you noticing.

You'd been texting with Tim, his own shift a later one that had yet to start.

Angela's smile grew warmer, her head tilting. Your brows furrowed at her, confused about the way she was smiling at you.

"Don't act like you don't know what I mean." she told you, eyes narrowing the slightest bit. "It's obvious that you and Tim are dating."

Your cheeks grew warmer, eyes looking down on the table. "Please don't tell my father about it." you asked of her, knowing that denying the obvious wouldn't get you very far.

She huffed in amusement, shaking her head. "Don't worry, I won't tell him."

"Tell whom what?" someone spoke up behind you - Nyla. She poured herself a cup of coffee as well, joining you at the table. "Tell her father that her and Bradford are dating."

Nyla made a dismissive gesture, shaking her head. "Don't worry, it's so obvious, we wouldn't even have to tell him. He'll find out on his own."

Eyes widening, you sat up straighter.

Where you really this obvious?

They must have read your thoughts, snickering into their cups. "It's cute." Angela pointed out, sending you a wink. "But yes, it really is this obvious."

_____

"We can't go on like this." you told Tim the same evening after your talk with Angela and Nyla, forking at the food on your plate.

Tim cocked a brow, wondering what you were talking about. Looking up from your plate, you placed the fork down. "I mean us."

He froze, the pasta falling from his own fork back on the plate, before he placed it down as well. "What do you mean?"

He couldn't shake the fear that suddenly gripped him, eminent in his voice. He'd thought you'd love him?

"We can't keep this a secret anymore." you explained, leaning on your elbows. "Angela and Nyla are constantly teasing me about it. It's obvious, everyone knows except for my father - he would have decapitated me already if he'd know."

His heart stumbled, though relief filled him at your words.

You weren't breaking up with him.

"Then we'll make it official." he proposed, leaning forward as well. You bit your lip, contemplating it. Someday they would find out anyway.

You nodded, sending him a smile. "Let's make it official."

_____

You should have known it would be a bad idea.

You had a deja vu at the way your father was yelling at you, whilst your mother was shaking her head constantly at him.

She knew better than to interrupted him.

It felt like the time you'd set the bathroom on fire, trying to alter a dress of yours when you were young.

Your father had his very own opinion about you trying to be a fashion designer.

You were waiting for him to finish his speech, knee bouncing as you stared at the wall behind him.

He inhaled deeply and you used the opportunity to interrupt him.

"I love him." you told him firmly, standing up from the chair.

Wait, what?

You loved him?

Well, yes, you did.

"I love him and I won't leave him just because you tell me to. You don't like it? Well, you don't have to. I'm an adult, I'm 27 and I can decide on my own. I can choose who I love and who I date, I don't have to ask for your permission."

He was stunned, noticing once more that you were in fact, an adult. You're mother was smiling to herself, never having had any problems with you dating Tim, even if he was a few years older than you.

Wade grumbled something to himself, wondering when you'd grown so much. To him you were still his little girl, he had to protect you.

"I'm okay with leaving mid Wilshire, if I have to. But I won't be leaving Tim." you clarified, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shook his head, wiping over his face with his hand in a tired manner. "Since when are you this grown?" he wanted to know, voice defeated. "You're my little girl, I have to protect you!"

You couldn't help the smile that fought its way onto your lips. "Dad, you don't have to protect me - protect Dom, not me. She's still so young. I'm a grown-up, I can look after myself."

Luna chuckled, agreeing with a tilt of her head. "Our daughter should be free to decide what she wants." she spoke, putting a hand on your father's arm. "Let her date him, don't ruin this for her."

He sighed heavily, head hanging low. Nodding, he looked at his wife, before he looked at you.

"But you're not leaving mid Wilshire."

_____

"I have to." Tim pressured, pecking your lips. "And I want to. Metro is great, it's an opportunity I want to take."

He had proposed to transfer to the metro, after a position had been cleared, giving him a chance he wanted to take. He secretly hoped he'd get the job - it would make things a lot easier and he had thought about it even before you two met.

He'd be going to your father today, giving up his position if the metro was willing to take him in. He'd already talked to their chief, meeting her in a few minutes to discuss things.

You were nervous about it.

Sure, you knew he wanted to go to the metro, but you were worried he'd regret it. But you knew you had to let him do this.

They rest of the day went on like chewing gum.

Whilst you were working on some cases, he talked to the metro. You bad trouble concentrating, Angela soon noticing.

"What's up with you?" she wanted to know, leaning on the small wall that divided your desk and the hallway. Looking up from the papers you'd read three times already, you pushed them aside.

"Tim's trying for a position at the Metro." you told her, leaning your head on your hand. Her eyes widened, letting go of the air inside her lungs. "Wow."

You nodded, biting your lip. "Im happy if he gets the position, but I fear he's doing it because he feels pressured to do." you explained. "I don't want him to regret his decision."

Angela shook her head, adjusting her position. "He won't." she assured you. "Tim knows what he wants. Just as he knows that he wants you. He'd have done everything in his power to ensure that, believe me. If he tries for the position, than it's because he wants to."

You nodded, trying to belive her words.

You really hoped she was right.

_____

Tim wrought his hands nervously, trying to calm his racing heart, before he would face your father.

He had been a bit harsher on Tim since he knew you were dating, but he refused to let it bother him.

Entering the watch commander's office, he braced himself for the conversation ahead of him.

Wade looked up when he entered, putting his pen down and crossing his arms on the desk. "Bradford, what can I do for you?"

Tim closed the door, sitting down on the chair opposite Wade's. "I want to transfer to the Metro." he spoke, getting right to the topic.

Grey's eyes widened - even if he kept a closer eye on him due to the relationship with his daughter, he wasn't willing to give him up that easily.

"Are you sure?" he wanted to know, his eyes wandering to your desk for a brief moment. He couldn't really see you, but he knew you were there - and Angela was as well, still talking to you.

Tim nodded, licking his lip. "I've talked to their chief and their willing to take me in." he explained, swallowing. "I think it's better this way."

Wade rubbed his chin, humming to himself.

"Are you doing this, because you want to, or because you feel forced to?" he inquired, gaze fixed on his Sargeant.

Tim cleared his throat, never breaking eye contact. "Because I want to." he responded. "I was thinking about going to the metro for a while now, not just because of your daughter."

Wade nodded, contemplating.

"Do you love her?"

Tim was taken aback by the question, still nodding fervently. "I do. Why?"

Wade nodded too, looking down on his desk. "Do you plan to marry her?"

Tim choked on his saliva, growing red as he desperately tried to regain his breath. Wade cocked a brow at his flustered face, eyes wide as Tim stared at his watch commander.

"I think it's a bit early for that." Tim gave back, swallowing hard. Wade huffed, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. "But when the time comes, I would want to."

Wade was pleased to hear that, the smallest smile gracing his lips.

"Well then, if you want to transfer to the metro, I'm sad to see you go but I won't stop you." he told him, sitting more straight again. "It was my honor to be your watch commander."

Tim looked up from his lap, where his eyes had landed moments before, disbelieve evident in his features. Grey sent him a smile, nodding slightly.

"It was my honor, too, Sarge."

_____

You didn't see Tim, before you went home that evening.

Did he get the position?

When he entered his house - you had a key, already having cooked - you couldn't help the impatience that overtook your senses.

"Did you get the position?" you wanted to know, greeting him in the hallway.

He cocked a brow at you, fighting a smirk. "Let me get home first." he chided, shaking his head as the smirk won.

Rolling your eyes, you walked back into the living room, waiting for him to join you at the dining table.

When he did, his hands found your hips, tugging you closer to kiss you. You returned it, sighing contently. He deepened the kiss, but you separated from him.

"Did you get it?"

He rolled his eyes at how impatient you were, but smiled down at you eventually. "I did." You smiled back, happy for him, as you kissed him again.

He smiled into the kiss, before he leaned back. "And I talked to your father."

Your smile fell, a sigh leaving your lips.

"He didn't want to let me go, but he eventually agreed."

Nodding, you bit your lip, the smile slowly returning. You knew that Tim was one of the best at mid Wilshire, and your father knew too.

"Let's eat, baby."

_____

"Damn, those cargo pants make me want to stay instead of going to work."

You bit your lip as you watched him dress, the pants definitely going to be a weak spot for you. He smirked, capturing your lips with his own. "We have to get ready, I don't want to be late on my first day."

The pants in combination with the boots made you go weak in the knees. It was tempting to just seduce him and stay, but you knew he was right.

It didn't mean you wouldn't seduce him later in the evening, though.

"It'll be hard to concentrate when I see you in these pants." you admitted, staring at them. He chuckled, redirecting your gaze with a finger under your chin. "We have to go." he reminded you, grinning.

He had trouble not giving into you and stay as well, so he tried to get you two on your way to work as fast as possible.

You let him walk in front of you, so you could stare at his ass, as he ushered you out of the house.

Damn, those pants would be the death of you.

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm

@augustvandyne @rookietrek

[yawnderu]

Would bimbo reader try to make Simon wear pink versions of his clothing(like a balaclava)? Or pink briefs/thong?(shes seen TikToks of guys jokingly showing underwear straps from their sweatpants). or makeup?? I saw a little trend of girls doing lipstick looks on their boyfriends’ lips and a simple makeup look (but let’s be fr mans is white AND British he don’t got much in terms of lips 🤭)

Also, would bimbo reader be a Sanrio girly??

PLSSS EFJHEHJBFHJBFE

She'd convince Simon to wear pink boxers at least once just because 1. the color is pretty 2. the sheer contrast of her emo pet/boyfriend being like THAT and wearing pink is funny to her BHJEFJHBEFJHB

One small “I bought them for you, Si” while batting her pretty eyelashes would be enough to get him to wear them. He would only wear them when he's back home with you, and quite honestly I don't really think he'd mind the color much. His girl bought them because she likes them and she's the only one who gets to see them, so why would it matter?

I also think he'd let her do his makeup when they're both very bored!! Yeah, he's a badass behemoth of a man, but he also enjoys time together with his lady doing absolutely anything. He trusts you to do whatever you want to his face and depending on how good your makeup skills are, he'd either laugh or be lowkey impressed 😭

Of course, he wouldn't go outside with makeup on, but the fun aspect of it is seeing your pretty face so close to his, all focused on making him look pretty and practice your makeup skills. He lowkey feels proud when you tell him you're jealous of his naturally long lashes hjnehjbfjhb

I THINK she would!! She'd like them mainly for the collection items and I can see her having figures of Sanrio characters in her collection room JFEBHJFEJBH

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Shit at Feelings i

Part one

Pairing: Bodhi Durran x fem!marked one!reader

Synopsis: Bonding with dragons? No issue. Killing venin? Unfortunate, but doable. Confronting your feelings towards your childhood best friend? No thanks.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: SPOILERS!!, drinking, swearing, filler dialogue, not proofread v well. lmk if I missed anything

A/n: my first Emperyeon series fic!! Was supposed to be just a one part fic, but I got carried away. I also just wanted to write a self indulgent piece w dialogue amongst the group too 🥲 this is my first time in a while posting but I fr love Bodhi sm I needed to have something w him in it. I hope you enjoy!

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You survived your first year, you defied the odds of what everyone else said about you. Not only defying those odds, but being one of the best in your year. Maybe Imogen and Xaden had played a crucial part, but most of the marked ones were surprised. You had been more quiet and reserved out of the group of kids for the high ranked officials, but that didn’t mean you were weak. You had proved that while being ruthless and cunning in your training. Your parents were Fen Riorson’s top battle strategist and healer after all.

In the gathering hall, everyone celebrated moving into their new ranks. While simultaneously saying goodbye to the third years they’ve grown to know. You were indulging in the alcoholic lemonade, and your fellow fourth wing with more than a few words tonight. You sat on the left side of Violet while Imogen sat on the right. Nadine and Sawyer next to Rhiannon across from you bickering playfully about something. You savoring your newfound will to live after the events at Resson.

The hall was sweltering in the summer evening heat, no amount of lesser magic had helped. Neither did the warmth you could feel from Ridoc beside you. Taking your jacket off, only being left in your tank top underneath.

“Damn Y/n,” whistled Ridoc. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your relics yet.” Everyone’s eyes went to you, and usually you would’ve been intimidated by all eyes on you. Tonight it didn’t faze you that much. Even noting the softened gaze in Nadine’s eyes, who had been skeptical of the kids of the rebellion at the beginning of the year.

Both sides of your collarbones are covered in intricate designs extending to shoulders making their way down to your biceps on both arms. You never tried to hide the relics, but you never took your jacket off or opted for a long sleeve, higher collared shirt when training in lessons.

You rolled your eyes at the male’s cheekiness and everyone gawking besides the few who knew what already laid beneath your jacket. “It’s not something I necessarily flaunt.”

“Obviously or we wouldn’t all be shocked here.” Sawyer snorted, sipping on his beverage.

“It’s so badass though.” Violet acted as if she hadn’t only seen it days prior.

“I had been fortunate in the placements of them. Since both of my parents were a part of Riorson’s regime.” You tried not to be bashful about it.

“Where’s your dragon relic?” Ridoc blurted as he looked at the design on your shoulders.

“Sheesh,” Rihannon reached over, flicking his ear. “You’re staring like you’ve never seen any relics before.”

Before you could give a response, something caught the youngest Sorrengail’s eye causing her to get up. “I’ll be back.” Violet stood up from the table, wobbling tipsily to the corner where you saw Xaden and Bodhi. The latter descended, seeing the silver haired girl approach them, offering a curt nod when they passed one another.

You gulped at how good Bodhi looked in his new third year jacket, even when it bore no difference to his second year uniform. You were just a sucker for Bodhi in a uniform admittedly. The mage lights illuminating his dark curls to a chocolate hue that tempted you to run your fingers through his hair.

Despite being close with Xaden, Imogen, and even Garrick—you kept your distance from the younger man for a year before he left for Basigath. When you were kids, you two had been close friends, maybe even inseparable. But when a rebellion happens, and you have increasingly become aware of how much your affection for him went so much deeper than being his friend—things become complicated.

When you were around him now it was the only time you felt truly timid. You could conquer the parapet, gauntlet, bond a dragon, kill venin and wyvern, but that man was your weakness. He had narrowly saved you and your dragon from a wyvern attack while back in Resson.

His cheek still dusted with a greenish yellow bruise, and jaw gashed with a healing cut. Unashamedly you thought it made him look so much more lethally handsome than he was. Gods you were resorting to a bumbling nervous lovesick puppy.

“Human women and their finicky hormones and emotions.” Your dragon, Cleasaí, chortled through your bond.

“Quiet, go eat sheep or something.” You slammed your mental shields up from her to the best of your ability while intoxicated.

Bodhi reached the table, already looking at you. His hazel eyes shimmered with curiosity as he scanned your exposed arms and collarbones. Either not used to lack of sleeves or was it the fact you unabashedly stared back for once. His mouth curled into a lazy smirk. You hoped he didn’t notice your already flushed warm cheeks redden under the mage lights, feeling a ghost of smirk on your own lips. The lavender lemonade made you feel bolder evidently as well.

“Mind if I squeeze in?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked on yours stil.

“I can move over—“ Imogen started moving closer to you, but he had already stepped over the bench to take a seat in between the two of you. “Or not.” She deadpanned. She had been one of the only ones that knew the complicated timeline between the two of you.

Your heart skipped a split second from the stare down between the both of you. Now feeling acutely aware of your posture and the swarm of what you could only compare to bees buzzing around in your stomach.

“Y/n,” he greeted casually, his voice a warm husky tone.

“Bodhi.” You tried to play cool, and take a sip of your frothy drink. Not only did you know he was looking at you, you could see Imogen in your peripheral, giving you a “what-the-fuck” look at the interaction. Ignoring the pink haired girl, you spoke up again. “Feel like a third year yet?”

“Eh, it won’t hit me until the new candidates get here.” He finally took his eyes off you as Ridoc offered him a bottle of ale. “Thanks man.” Bodhi’s side pressed up to you when leaned over to take the bottle.

His warmth doubled down into you, igniting the exposed skin where he pressed into you. Feeling his minty breath fan the side of your face, and the smell of cedar, patchouli, and musk invade your senses. You could feel his hard muscle flex through the layers of his clothing against your bicep. The storm that buzzed through your stomach turned into heat seeping into your core. Lovesick puppy or just desperate for male touch?

“I know I will be taking every advantage as a second year,” Nadine chimed in. “Finally being able to sleep in is priority number one!” She did a little celebratory dance in her seat. You snapped out the trance Bodhi left you in, and agreed with her.

“I’ll be savoring our newfound alone time too.” An extra hour in the morning, and weekends to actually do something more than chores or training. Maybe you can finally break out the sketch book that someone smuggled in for you during a supplies trip. You only found it on your bed with no note.

“Define alone time, Y/n.” Rihannon wagged her eyebrows at you. The group chuckled at the suggestive comment.

“Or will you use your newfound freedom to bring someone into your room finally?” Ridoc added, causing the group to laugh louder. If you weren’t red enough already, you had to be beet red now.

“What makes you think I haven’t already?” An inquisitive eyebrow raised at the shorter male from beside you. ‘Oohs’ rise from the group.

“Did you want to be number one, Ridoc?” Quinn giggled.

You felt both the male in question and Bodhi tense. The former blushing a deep scarlet in embarrassment and the latter wearing a neutral expression you couldn’t decipher.

“Sounds like you’re keeping watch of me.” You teased playfully. The flushed male who usually was never at loss for words was now stammering trying to deny it. “It’s okay, maybe one day I’ll take your consideration if I’m ever bored enough.”

“Not what I meant.” Ridoc put his hands over his face groaning. You finally let out a laugh from his reaction, you couldn’t help getting the slight joy of teasing him. He always got the joy of doing it to everyone else. It seemed the rest of the group was enjoying teasing the man just as much too. Everyone besides Bodhi, who had a slight scowl on his face until Imogen whispered something to him.

༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻

By the end of the night, everyone was just about ready for bed drunkenly chatting and giggling at one another. You had consumed two more tall glasses of lavender lemonade. Most of the group now were clamoring around getting clumsy and incoherent. While you were trying to stay sane while remaining seated next to the guy you’ve always had undeniable feelings for. Overly aware of every little action he did at the table throughout the night. From him laughing to the way he gripped the bottle of his alcohol. Lovesick puppy.

You had stood at the exit of the hall up to the dormitories with Ridoc and Rhiannon. Both have to hold each other up as they bid you goodnight.

“Y/n,” Ridoc hiccupped. “I wasn’t serious about earlier, but if you’re—“ hiccup “serious I can be—“ another hiccup “serious.” You did everything you could not laugh out loud knowing it was the alcohol talking.

“She wasn’t.” Bodhi came up next to you, giving him a glare. You shot him a look, not used to such a serious or broody version of the man you grew up with. Him always being the friendlier one out of Xaden, Garrick, and himself. “Goodnight you two.”

Rhiannon’s eyes widened in a shocking delight. “I knew there was something between the two of you!” She squealed, like he bared his soul with a couple words.

“There is—“ you go to correct her, but the tall male beside you cuts you off.

“Goodnight Cadet Matthias.” He had an authoritative tone that made your knees buckle. Or was that the alcohol? His muscular arm wrapped around your waist as he noticed your unsteadiness, and you felt that same sensation you felt earlier when you leaned into him for support.

Your two fellow second years gave the both of you looks before clumsily walking away, leaving you alone with the male holding you up. Your heart is now hammering as he starts to lead you away.

“Let’s get some air.” Bodhi motioned his head to the courtyard as he effortlessly led your stumbling form outside. You wanted to scoff at his proposition. Your new bed and pajamas were calling your name.

A few cadets and lieutenants lingered around the expansive yards, but he quietly led you to an alcove that brought you to a secluded spot where no one could see the two of you.

You leaned up against the stone wall, letting the summer breeze cool your skin. Carefully observing the tawny skinned man from beside you. He took out a small rolled paper and a match, lighting the roll and the sweet smell of churam filled your nose. You weren’t allowed to smoke, and you knew if you were caught you two would be expelled and possibly executed at this point.

“What are you doing?” You hissed as he took a drag, watching him let the smoke leave his mouth and inhale through his nose. There goes that damn buzzing feeling in the pit of your stomach again.

“Relax this is our smoking spot, Y/n/n, no one comes around here.” He reassured you once he exhaled the smoke again. You rolled your eyes staring at the mage light that flickered on the wall. After a lengthy pause, you glanced back at him.

“What makes you think I wasn’t serious?” You questioned, crossing your arms around yourself.

“You know these are the most words you’ve spoken to me in months? Maybe even years?” He ignored your question.

You opened your mouth, before closing it again. You couldn’t admit it was because of your harbored feelings. Not now. Because he was right, you hadn’t talked for quite some time. It didn’t feel right nor did you want to omit that confession.

“Well you were here for an entire year and I was back home so yeah it’s been a year since we talked.” So you played oblivious with him.

He scoffed, “you’ve hardly spoken to me since you’ve gotten here.”

“You just seemed so busy—“

“Cut the shit, please.” He pleaded, now anxiously dragging the joint.

As he brought it away from his lips after a couple puffs, you stole it from him. Your fingers brushing slightly as you grab the small rolled herb. The small touch warrants an electrifying feeling between your fingers. Quickly brushing the thought of if he felt it too, you took a hit of the herb. Letting the sweet smoke seep into your lungs and haze the self awareness and guilt that filled you.

You didn’t want to let him in, truthfully. You’ve already witnessed too many losses during the succession and your first year alone at Basigath. It was when your parents had been executed when you started slipping away from him. You let the stereotypical crush trope hide deep down what you felt, how afraid you were. It would hurt to know, if you finally got the balls to admit everything you’ve felt, and something happened to him or you. It already almost did once, the regret and shame still kept a hold of you for the last few days.

You could now see the disappointment in his eyes. “You’ve always been quiet and reserved, but with me? That’s never been you.” You took another deep inhale of the herb.

“Could you blame me if I was scared?” Your hands slightly shook as you handed the joint back to him. Your eyes were earnest as you looked at him.

He shook his head, running hand through his hair. “You're scared? Fuck, Y/n I almost watched you die. And you know what ran through my head thinking ‘this could be it’?” He took one last smoke, throwing the remaining part of the joint on the ground, stomping it out into the cobblestone. “That the last fucking year spent with you was speaking through a chain of command or small talk bullshit when you weren’t running the opposite if I was near you for too long.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you could feel the tears burn the edges of your eyes. That electric current you felt in your stomach only a few moments ago had solidified into a brick. Then ascended into a wall that crushed you with an iron force with his words.

You two had only briefly talked while in Aretia after what happened.

You had tended to your dragon most of the time while waiting for Violet to heal. Your green clubtail had a poorly injured claw from a wyvern, and despite her persistence it would heal, you were nervous that it would draw too many questions back at Basigath. Xaden agreed and saw Brennan to help mend some of the wound once Violet was stable. You were not able to leave her side while the stranger tended to her. She was already furious that someone besides you had to touch her.

You wanted to talk to him more after that, everything had happened so fast though. Then you went back to avoiding him.

“You’re right.” You mumbled, picking at the edge of your nails. “I’m so sorry, Bo.” Your lip trembled, and the first tear slipped from your eye.

He sighed, sounding defeated. “Gods, I don’t want to be right.” He gently grabbed your elbow, wrapping your smaller frame in his arms. “I want you to stop icing me out, Y/n.”

He ran a hand through your hair, his chin resting on top of your head as you sniffled tears silently running down your cheeks. He had every right to be upset with you, but here he was comforting you. This had always been the Bodhi you knew, how he was before the height of the rebellion. Whereas you had turned cold, letting your cowardice and stubbornness control your emotions—for what you thought was for good reason.

“I know,” you stifled against his jacket. Finally wrapping your arms around him. His grip tightened, and you were overwhelmed by the sense of comfort. You hated what this man did for you and to you.

“I shouldn’t have had this conversation tonight.” He admitted. “I should have waited until we were both sober.” He let you go, and you wished you were still wrapped in his muscular arms. A cold seeping into you that wasn’t due to weather.

You shook your head, a sad smile on your lips. “I would have run.”

“And I wouldn’t have had the courage to bring it up.” A dry chuckle echoed through the quiet alcove.

“We’re riders and we’re—“

“Shit at feelings?” He mused as he watched you tug your jacket on. You wiped some stray tears from your cheeks with your sleeve.

“I was gonna say pansies, but that works.” You sniffled, as a toothy grin finally appeared on his face.

“Should we get to bed and do this all over again tomorrow?” He offered his arm. You raised an eyebrow at him, was he sane? “I mean the drinking part, not the arguing. I enjoyed hearing more than a word out of you tonight though. So I can resort to arguing if needed.” He nudged you slightly.

You rolled your eyes teasingly, “no promises.”

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Reblogs and likes are appreciated! I am open to feedback as well as requests too! 💕🫶

[romihearts]

bf headcannons ! ┊ft. first years

synopsis. how they would be as your bf!

content. gn reader, intended lowercase, swearing

her notes. 2nd years next!

ACE TRAPPOLA * ˚ ✦

an asshole to everyone, but becomes even more of an asshole to you /hj

would be a tease, spontaneous flirts really surprise you since you'd never expect this from ace. not to mention, he likes seeing your flustered face, he thinks its adorable.

like showing you off to his friends, spouting things like "y'know they're just so amazing 'cause you'd really find yourself admiring them and—" as epel cuts him off,

his love language ? acts of service. even with small things like tying your shoelace, or removing dust from your uniform.

would drag you along to wreak havoc in heartslabyul with deuce, but if you three get caugt he'll plead to riddle that you're innocent

FIGHTS WITH GRIM LMFAO they'd definitely give glares to each other 'cause they wanted to be in your arms !!

DEUCE SPADE * ˚ ✦

your #1 supporter fr !!

he'd genuinely love anything you do <3 and help you wholeheartedly too !!

if you ever play a sport, he's already learning it so he can play with you. oh you like cooking? he's in cooking classes making a gourmet ass dish. you like arts? he compliments each and everyone of your piece.

he really admires you, you're also that one special person he can always confide in.

tries not to get you into ace's trouble, like ace he will plead and beg riddle that you were not an accomplice whatsoever in ace's doing.

if he ever get's a chance to ride a blastcycle, he'll always take you with him, going to very beautiful places just to see your smile.

his love language? words of affirmation for sure. he'll always be there to tell you the things he loves about you <3

JACK HOWL * ˚ ✦

he was quite distant with you when you first met him, sometimes avoiding you. and you'd get sad since you wanted to be friends with him too.

buuttt, what you didn't know was the reason he avoided you, he fell in love first sight and didn't know how to deal with it.

atleast now, both of you are dating !! yet there are some times where he looks at you a bit too long and stars slightly avoiding you once more. you were just so perfect and he didn't want to seem disrespectful from the staring so he excused himself immediately from you 😭

he deeply respects you, so if you ever have any problems with him tell him immediately so he can resolve and understand you : )

his love language? acts of service too! he'd try his best to help you with anything. wether it'd been academics or sports, he'll do his best to help you.

EPEL FELMIER * ˚ ✦

he DID NOT like you when you first met !!!! which is super contrasting to him now as you're dating.

he thought of you like another pompous student because you looked too amazing for him T-T

nonetheless, when he got to know you more, both of you clicked immediately!

he fell in love with your charms and courage, admiring it aswell.

seeing as you're so badass while still remaining so courteous, he didn't know if he wanted to be you or be with you fr

eventually he was now with you, and the both of you rest in the solace within each other. confiding in them.

oh if epel's having a problem with vil? you're there to talk with him about it. same with you, problems with academics? he'd say your totally right! /j but having him there felt comforting and reassuring already.

his love language? physical touch. behind closed doors he's like a cat because he clings so close to you. displays some pda too, like his hand around your waist or shoulder.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT * ˚ ✦

unlike epel and jack, he was absolutely encapsulated when he saw you. he seriously could not stop staring once he saw you, someone he admired more than malleus ?!

while he is prideful and loud, his confession to you was like the total opposite. either way you still accepted it <3

if you get quickly startled by loud things, sebek will try his best not to scream when you're around.

but, he is blunt and honest aswell with someone. if you ask for criticism on something, he will properly explain what he criticizes then help you afterwards.

his love language? acts of service, he'll service you to the best he can. he'd be willing to help you with schoolworks too.

[ioniansunsets]

I JUST FOUND YOUR BLOG AND OMG

hey imma need that confession Heartsteel Kayn moment yannoooo… fr all I’ve been thinking about 😳😳😳

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Confessing ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.2k

✖ Tags: Awkward Confessions

✖ A/N: Reader here is just someone who works at his studio! He met you as Heartsteel slowly begun to start out and get ready for debut. Also writing this with that one ask about him writing a song about this exact moment in mind. Heehee!

I was reading some fanfics on my side and got filled with so much adrenaline and emotions I spat this out. I got very very very carried away writing this. I hope its not too OOC. Thank you for asking for this, I couldn't stop thinking about writing it.

----

It sucked. It fucking sucked. The way his heart raced when you were near.

The loud thumping against his chest. He hated it.

He hated how vulnerably and un-badass it made him feel. How the high he got from you rivaled that of the stage.

How your voice played over and over in his mind more than any melody he knew. How your laughter made his knees weak. It made Him. Weak!

He hated. He loathed. He grunts in frustration as he rocks out hard on his guitar. Fingers picking at the strings, a sick solo riff but it was for no one but himself.

Oh, how he did arguably stupider things than usual when he saw you watching. Showing off to you he jumped off a stage once. Which is not too far off from usual but it was to no audience! It was during a practice run! He did it just to flex to you that he was cool! Fucking embarrassing to remember but he did! All because you were standing nearby! How could you do such a thing to him!

The absolute frustration he was filled with. Not pent up rage, not a craving for violence and destruction, but affection? Undeniable. Overflowing. Drowning and choking him. Affection!

He finally threw his guitar on the ground. Breathing heavy. Hands running through his hair to push away the hair that has fell to his face in his little jam session. Hands wiping away the sweat. No matter how long he played, how fast his fingers pressed the strings, how frantically he strummed away. How he still played, chipping his painted nails when he slips up and drops his pick. The loud music of his electric guitar couldn't drown out the high BPM beat of his heart going off in his ears. The mental image of you smiling and waving at him every time he shows up. The tingle in his fingertips imagining himself holding you.

Swallowing hard, he storms out of the studio. He was at his fucking limit and refused to deal with this flip flop of emotions any longer. A cold shower. He calms down. Tomorrow. At the studio when he goes in to record. He'll find you then. He'll go early before the rest of the band gets there. He'll get this done and over with. Enough hours were spent being a mess about you. He was going to get this done! Tossing and turning in bed for hours he finally falls asleep. Tomorrow, he'll confess.

xxxx

The next day came soon enough. Making sure he looked good, makeup on, hair styled nicely, a sexy ass outfit with his deliciously sculpted abs out. Not the usual for when he goes to the studio but if he was going to be confessing? Perfect. Yes he was perfect in his own eyes but still, his heart raced. Small whispers of Rhaast in his mind, telling him they might reject him, that he was someone that needed nobody, he shouldn't go up to them and say anything, the frustration was so good for his music! But still, he walked on. Boots hitting the floor at the same pace of his rapidly beating heart as he walks up to you. You heard him before you saw him, the thump of his boots echoing closer and closer.

" Hey!"

He cringes internally, the hell was that greeting. Hey? Just hey?! He smiles. Cocky as usual. Face never betraying his emotions, yeah he was cool like that. The shaking of his hands held back as he puts them in his pockets. Its alright, he looked cool. Just like that, hands in his pockets fiddling with his phone as he leans against the wall to talk to you.

" Can I talk to you a bit before I go and record stuff?"

Oh gods you smiled and nodded. His heart fluttered. His expression, involuntary, visibly lighting up. The way your smile just made him smile so bright back. He takes a deep breath.

" I uh...I love you."

He spat it out. It wasn't cool. It wasn't sexy. It was a choked out confession. Heart racing, palms now sweaty in his pockets, still shaking. Hells, shaking More now. His breath heavy as he tries to keep the anxiety at bay. A feeling of stage fright he never felt before. Suddenly hitting him. You look at him, face slowly getting more flushed as you process the sudden confession.

" I hate it but I've fallen head over heels for you. I'm a fucking wreck. You ruin me."

Kayn runs his hands through his hair, a habit to calm himself down. His eyes closed as he takes a deep breath before continuing.

" You genuinely make my time here at the studio fun, your presence is chaotic and calming at the same time. I want to be with you. I want us to be a thing. You already know me, you've seen the me on stage during practice, off stage when I record lines, you've seen Rhaast go all out and you still choose to be around me. I want you more than anything I've ever wanted."

He looks at you now, a calm stare. Lips pursed in a tight line. Swallowing hard. His nerves somehow finding solace in letting out all his feelings that were pent up over the month or two since you got to know each other. You laugh, gods your laugh. He's giddy. You tell him you love him too. He smiles.

A pause as he suddenly stands up straight. You tell him you love him too?

" Wait haha what? Really?"

He was amazing of course you'd say yes but still, there was that tiny part of him that was worried. You liked him back? You Love him? The amazing you! The you that shone like a sun in his frustrating days of endless work as a rockstar. You! He was fucking Elated. Arms immediately around you, a tight hug as he lets out a sigh. Breath he didn't even realize he was holding until now. His arms still shaking a little as he held you.

" Can I kiss you. Right now? I-"

Kayn doesn't even finish his sentence, the moment you nod his lips are on yours, passionate. Hands threading through your hair as he holds your head gently. Holding you against him. His free hand around your waist, supporting you as much as he was supporting himself from falling apart at your touch. How he loved you, the smell of your hair so close to him now, the taste of your lips on his, the feeling of your soft delectable lips on his. How warm you were in his hands, how faint your breath on his face. He was in love. He was in Love.

As he pulls apart. He takes another deep breath. The way you left him literally breathless. Fuck. This was an excitement he never felt before. Never has a kiss left him feeling so...good? Never has a hug left him literally shaking with excitement. You were special and now you were his.

" You're so fucking perfect you know that?"

He laughs shakily. A hand rising, trembling as he lightly touches his lips. Still in disbelief. He loves you. Undeniably. Overwhelmingly. The storm of emotions he held for the past, who knows how long, now a summer breeze filling his chest with a warmth he doesn't remember ever feeling. He loves you.

[kokushibosbestie]

ok so idk if u do like x reader stuff but if you do, can u do like a Sally face fic or headcannons with Sal and Larry. I wanted to request what it would be like for them to have like a very busy s/o. Like I do marching band and outside of school I do volleyball and lessons for trombone and piano. Along with that I take AP classes and student council which give me more work to do so I feel pretty drained by the end of the day

♡~ Sal and Larry w/ busy S/O HCs ~♡

A/N: Yes, I take requests and do (Character) x reader headcannons! AND I'M SO SORRY IF THIS WASN'T GOOD AND I KNOW LARRY'S PART ISN'T LONG I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME ANON. ALSO IM SORRY THAT IT TOOK SO LONG, I'VE BEEN REALLY BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND I HAD WRITERS BLOCK FOR LIKE 3 WEEKS 😭🙏

Warnings: None, just pure fluffiness and love. GN!reader.

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

♪ Sal Fisher ♪

· HE'S JUST A FKN SWEETHEART 😭😭 · I will say that he is going to make sure to make your life easier no matter what · like doing chores, helping you with projects and assignments, and planning out your week · I don't think many realize this, but he is not the "badass player" people portray him as. 😔 · So, he will make you sit down with him on the weekend and ask how things are going. · And this is with everything. Work, school, family life, your relationship with him, your mental health, etc. · He is serious about it too. 😅 He cares a lot and he doesn't like to see you stressed. · So when you come home tired and worn out, he will not be happy. · he knows it's not your fault and you can't help it "Love, please stop doing this to yourself. You know this isn't good." · Like I said, he loves you 🥰 · istg this man HAS and WILL beg you to take a break · so when you come home, he'll already have a bath ready for you · once you're done taking a bath, he'll make you sit down on the floor in front of the couch so he can brush / comb your hair · and I honestly think he's not the best cook, but he will cook your favorite food no he won't, it's going to be takeout because he failed · your room is already cleaned and he bought you squishmellows to add to your collection · he'll cuddle you to sleep while playing with your hair · definitely the big spoon on nights like this "Relax baby, you need to get sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up, okay?"

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

☆ Larry Johnson ☆

· I'ma be fr with you, he would NOT notice at first · Not until Ashley said something but after she brings it to his attention that you need a little bit more attention, he will do exactly that · and istg, he WILL pick you up bridal style and carry you away from whatever you were doing 👀 · If you protest, he will glare at you and ignore it. · Any kind of work you do is "overworking yourself" to him · so beware · Imma be completely honest, this man CANNOT keep up with you · Your ship dynamic is literally "busy mastermind and their assistant who worships them but can't keep up." 😭💞 · larry is the one worshiping you "Look, I know you have a lot going on, so don't try to convince me that you aren't. I might be stupid in school but I'm not stupid with you." · he will say shit that doesn't make sense WHATSOEVER. 😔 · Ofc, he won't admit that he's trying to take care of you · or keep up with you · obvi 🙄 · I have my own hc that he actually does know how to cook nicely, so I think he'd make you food you'd watch a movie together and talk · once your social battery is completely out, he'll offer you to sleep on his chest. 🥰 · and when you wake up, he's gunna make you breakfast. "Don't try to keep yourself up babe. You've had a long day, so just rest."

DISCLAIMER: THE HEADER IS MINE, THOUGH THE FANART IS NOT. THE DIVIDERS ARE NOT MINE, ONCE AGAIN, THEY ARE NOT MINE. ALL CREDITS GO TO ORIGINAL POSTERS / CREATORS!!! ALL WRITING BELONGS TO ME!!!

[aezuria]

okay okay but like could you do hcs about Jason grace x shy/cutesy fem!reader?? It would be so cute omgg everyone looks up to Jason as this intimidating badass leader but his gf is just the cutest, softest, most adorable lil thing ever??

*ੈ✎ he don't bite! (yes he do!)

content: jason grace x reader; hcs

warnings: none?? i made this more camp jupiter based tho sorry

note: THIS REQUEST WAS SOO CUTSEY OMGGG jason is a doberman bf fr

so like yk how everyone in camp jupiter sees him as this super tough guy???

who wouldnt; he was the former praetor, son of jupiter himself, literally trained for war since he was a toddler

why is a guy like that walking around with YOU??

the most sweetest girl to ever grace the earth

how does that even happen?

jason is quite literally marching around with perfect posture, glaring at everyone (he's really just squinting cause he forgot his glasses... again)

and then he sees you!!

even with shit eyesight he knows the shape of you by heart

and his whole demeanor just?? softens? lights up? relaxes? all of the above

it was just such a rough day for him; he forgets everybody around him and just scoops you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck

a bit of an awkward position with him having to bend down at a weird angle but he doesnt care!!

he just wants to hold you and have you hold him and cuddle :((

meanwhile everyones like WTF WHO ARE YOU AND IS THIS REALLY JASON

literally melts in your arms the second you hug him back

"you wanna go rest?" you whisper into the crook of his neck, to which he nodded against your shoulder. you laughed lightly and pulled away, or at least tried to. "let's go then."

he begrudgingly let you out of his arms, following behind you

everybody else is still reeling in shock btw

you guys were the TALK OF THE TOWN for WEEKS after

one of those things where youd never guess but when you know abt it, it just makes SO much sense

you guys are polar opposites in such a good way (to everybody else at least)

cuddling with you is his best relaxing thing to do

you literally had to get him a life cause the only things he knew to do were work and fight

bro has never had a day off like ever

once you two started dating, he was introduced to the most addicting drug: physical touch

he was probably really shy at first; really really likes it but feels like he doesnt deserve it cause all hes been treated with is harshness

and hes unused to being so gently handled

(someone give him a hug fr)

which is what YOU did!

now he love loves it, especially on days like these when everythings just too much and all he wants to do is unwind

runs to you like a puppy

LOVE LOVES being the little spoon even though hes shy abt it

he can do both but smth abt being held instead of doing the holding for once makes his heart heavy in a bittersweet way

would spend all day in your arms if he could just get out of his workaholic attitude (which is never, but hes doing better with you)

okay, we can all agree jason is scary when hes mad

which is USUALLY unlikely unless someone hurts his friends or smth like that

but sometimes he just looks mad and if you werent close to him, you wouldnt be able to tell the difference

but back to him being MAD mad

like, abt to beat the living (dead?) shit out of a monster mad because there is one RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU EW GET IT OFF

he just, did NOT NEED THAT TODAY HES TIRED AND SAD AND that was his breaking point

unleashes HELL on that poor monster, literally calls down a whole storm

the skies turn dark, clouds heavy with rain and the whole camp just looks up like ??? was this on the weather forecast

then it starts raining LIGHTNING and they all know who it is

and go inside and hide

was it a bit overdramatic? yes, but jason deserves to be dramatic sometimes

once he FINALLY finishes the job, he stomps back into the camp, terminus even taking note and doesnt say anything quippy

youd think he has the plague by the way people make room for him to walk

but then you poke through the crowd and spot him. "jason?"

hed know your voice anywhere, his head immediately turning to the direction he heard it

you were already right next to him, rubbing his arm and giving him your signature sweet smile

the stormy air around him seemed to part for you, like you were sun seeping through the cracks in the clouds

"y/n," he greeted you warmly, linking your arms together

what an odd sight the two of you made, but a cute one nonetheless!

[boowritess]

i love not a badass reader sm she’s like the psyop of the group, as in no one really knows why she’s in it after awhile but every now and then she’ll accidentally (or on purpose) do something that everyone is just like ‘ah i see why she is in one of the best task forces we have’ but 90% of the time people will see her in a funny situation like accidentally tying herself up while trying to organize ropes n stuff

not a badass reader isn't actually a badass.🤷‍♀️ like they genuinely can't do shit. when i say rookie. i mean they a rookie through and through. only really doing the most bare minimum cause they actually lowkey don't wanna be doing this shit lmao. they in it for the money (and also because price practically grabbed them by the scruff of their neck and claimed reader as part of the task force)

but-

i think that maybe in some ways, reader is a badass. but not in that knives and guns blazing type of way.

kinda like how gaz always has the 141 backs in a mission with some of the stuff he has done. reader is kinda like that just a lil different.

they're thinking about the safety of someone else and throwing themselves in if it means saving a life. if it be the 141 or someone else - whatever.

it's the way reader drops their gun and uses both their hands to pick up one of the 141 who've been shot and get them behind shelter - cause let's be fr those lads be beefy af.

reader who's so adamant in stopping the bleeding with whatever knowledge they have- it's mostly the emergency pad or tampon reader keeps - just to be considerate.

then it's not even just that. reader who has the ability to communicate with civilians in a way that has no roughness or demanour of a soldier. it's a valued skill - especially when it comes to getting information (though reader sometimes doesn't even realize but the 141 do)

and it's definitely not half assed with how reader engages with civilians. the 141 can tell that there's genuine compassion and understanding.

not only that.

the way reader is able to bounce back from some traumatic shit. reader has this level of normality that the 141 really crave after years in the task force.

so yeah.

i don't know. maybe reader is a badass. 💅

[teyamskxawng]

The Fight [I]

Neteyam Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Next Part Here

The rundown: The beach fight scene but make it Reader vs Aonung and he gets his ass beat LMAO. Ft. jealous, possessive (and lowkey oblivious) Neteyam having a crisis over the reader.

Warnings: language, bullying, slight violence, brief mention of the reader's deceased parents, Aonung bashing (but only for the purposes of this fic!! i fr trust Aonung's character arc), characters are aged up

WC: 8.8k

A/N: Don't even ask lol, I just wanted reader to be a badass. Second half of the fic delves into Neteyam's feelings and such. I'll prob finish this in like 1 or 2 more parts, so stay tuned for that! :)

Kiri was sprawled out on her stomach in a shallow area of the beach, her face entirely submerged in the crisp, clear water. Intently, she observed a tiny hole dug into the sand, a hub of activity for little critters periodically scurrying in and out.

Meanwhile, you sat beside her, equally entranced by the little wonder of nature the two of you had chanced upon during your mid-afternoon beach excursion.

Just as you lifted your head out of the water to catch your breath and stretch your neck, you felt vibrations from approaching footsteps and hushed voices carried by the sea breeze. Recognizing the voices, you quickly realized that it was Aonung and his band of goons lurking by the shore.

One of the guys pointed a webbed finger at you and Kiri, making it blatantly obvious that you two were the center of their group's conversation.

With a sly smirk and an obnoxiously loud voice, the boy asked his friends, "What are they doing?"

A chorus of laughter erupted among the group, immediately setting off alarms in your mind. You staunchly stood by Kiri, prepared to defend your friend against any potential ridicule or harm.

Meanwhile, Kiri remained blissfully unaware of all that was transpiring above water. Her head still submerged beneath gentle waves, she continued to marvel at the underwater world without a clue about the brewing laughter above.

Aonung scratched his head in mock confusion before turning to his friends and sarcastically asking, "Is she some kind of…freak?"

This wisecrack immediately set you on edge.

You gently shook Kiri's shoulder, calling out her name in a bid to get her attention but not startle her. Dazed and still somewhat out of the loop, Kiri lifted her head out of the water. Blinking the sea from her eyes, she groggily replied, "Huh? What did you say?"

The guys around you couldn't contain their childish amusement, snickering as they watched the scenario unfold.

Kiri's puzzled gaze finally fell upon the boisterous crowd surrounding them. "Oh." She replied, her entire demeanor deflating.

One of the guys chimed in condescendingly as if addressing a toddler trying to understand a grown-up conversation. "He asked if you were a freak," he smirked.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes in disdain, doing your best to suppress the growing urge to smack that smug grin off the little cretin's face. He looked like he belonged in a cage.

"Kiri, let's get out of here. These fish fuckers actually think that they're funny." You threw a venomous glare at the boys, allowing your piercing stare to linger just a fraction longer on Aonung–the one you least expected this behavior from.

As the son of the Metkayina chief, you assumed he would be different, a sharper contrast to his counterparts. You couldn't help comparing Aonung unfavorably to Neteyam, whose father was the late Omatikayan chief.

Neteyam carried himself with poise and grace far removed from Aonung's immature antics. Further adding salt to Aonung's proverbial wound was how unlike his little sister Tsireya he seemed to be. Although she was young, Tsireya radiated kindness and welcomed you and the Sully kids with open arms from the first day you arrived.

Aonung shot you a smug, sly smirk, allowing his eyes to flit up and down your figure, causing an uneasy sensation to skitter across your skin like an unwanted insect.

With sudden haste, fueled by the desire to escape, your hand shot out and latched onto Kiri's arm–maybe gripping with a bit too much force–as you seized the opportunity to depart from the presence of the immature boys.

Dragging Kiri out of the water with determination, you guided her toward the safety and solitude of the shoreline. To your dismay, though, the boys were not so easily deterred.

They pursued you and Kiri with dogged persistence; their snickers echoed through the air like a pack of viperwolves as they threw snide remarks targeted at your departing backs, whispering just loud enough for you and Kiri to overhear.

"Look at their tails,"

"Aww, baby tail!"

You gritted your teeth, willing yourself to maintain control despite your growing anger. You had hoped that your unspoken plea for serenity would be granted—that you could slip away unnoticed and go about your day. But clearly, Eywa had other plans.

Your breaking point presented itself when Aonung couldn't resist taking his antics a step further, reaching out and brazenly yanking Kiri's tail—probably thinking he was the height of hilarity.

That was the final straw for you; any iota of self-control you'd managed to cling to all this while suddenly snapped like a fragile twig underfoot.

You swiftly tucked Kiri protectively behind your body, baring your fangs with ferocious intensity at Aonung. With a menacing hiss, you attempted to warn him off.

However, Aonung was unfazed by your display; instead, he only widened his smirk and put his hands up theatrically in a gesture of mock surrender. Chuckling derisively, his eyes darted toward his friends for approval.

His cronies wasted no time in offering their reaction, joining in on the laugh track and seemingly growing bolder by the second as they encircled you and Kiri with an unnerving persistence.

"Why so strung up, y/n? I know you're a forest girl and all, but there's no need to go full tribal warrior on us. You're not a freak like Kiri," Aonung teased as he approached you while confidently throwing aside any semblance of personal space or respect.

He reached out and boldly clasped one of your hands as if you were old friends catching up over lunch. Looming over your figure like an unwelcome raincloud, Aonung brandished your hand in front of everyone, showing off the distinct three fingers that set you apart from your friends Kiri and Lo'ak, both of whom inherited their father's four fingers.

"I gotta say," he said while flashing an exaggerated grin at you, "I really don't mind these little hands at all."

With each word, Aonung's grin grew further on his face, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

As he continued to violate your personal space and dignity, you could feel the bubbling cauldron of rage within you reaching its tipping point.

Aonung just stood there on the shore with an infuriating, cocky smirk plastered on his face. His eyes seemed to dig into you as if attempting to burrow inside your head. There was something spectral about his gaze, something that roused an uncontrollable rage within you.

In a quickly unfolding series of events, you yanked your hand away from Aonung's iron grip.

Your blood was boiling at that point, and you immediately raised your fists in a fighter's stance that you learned from Jake, barely containing the volcanic fury surging through your veins.

With admittedly impressive speed and precision, you unleashed a brutal punch that connected with Aonung's cheekbone.

Caught off guard, he stumbled back, visibly dazed from the sudden, forceful attack.

However, you weren't anywhere close to being done with him. The torrential outburst had clouded your perception of time; the seconds stretched and warped until you found yourself throwing not one but two more punches straight into Aonung's disoriented face.

Finally succumbing to the unanticipated onslaught, Aonung faltered under the weight of it all, stumbling and falling on his dumb blue ass with an unceremonious thud.

He looked utterly ridiculous, sprawled across the beach like a fish out of water, his eyes wider than saucers and his mouth agape in sheer bewilderment.

You were so caught up in your victory and the satisfying adrenaline rush that you didn't even register Kiri's voice from behind you, urgently shouting, "Come on, that's enough!"

You had somehow slipped into your own world, built upon cathartic violence, utterly oblivious to the outside stimuli.

Further down the shoreline, the figures of Lo'ak and Neteyam were barely visible as they sprinted toward the scene of the skirmish. But once again, you remained unaffected by their presence and continued to stand your ground, reveling in your well-deserved triumph over Aonung and his ugly arrogance.

With fury still surging through your body, you leaped onto Aonung, who remained rooted to the spot and utterly petrified by the suddenness of your attack.

In one swift motion, you seized hold of his queue with a forceful grip, the fingers of your other hand coiling into a fist as you readied yourself to pummel him once more. A sense of sadistic humor coursed through your veins as you imagined the damage you could inflict.

However, just as your fist was about to make contact, you felt a strong set of hands grabbing onto your arms.

With surprising ease, you were lifted up and away from Aonung's body, leaving you momentarily disoriented.

As your vision cleared, you came to the realization that it was none other than Neteyam who had thwarted your assault and, with his characteristic swiftness, managed to usher you back onto your feet.

However, as far as you were concerned, the fight was not over; if anything, being interrupted had only stoked the flames of your anger toward that insufferable little skxawng even further.

You struggled in Neteyam's unyielding grasp, unleashing a fierce snarl as you reached out helplessly toward Aonung again.

"Just ten more seconds," you thought to yourself.

That's how little time it would take for you to mete out the sweet vengeance you so desperately craved.

Amidst this struggle, a trickle of laughter began bubbling up within you. You couldn't quite pinpoint if it was due to the absurdity of the entire situation, suddenly bordering on comedic, or simply because you knew what would happen if you managed to break free from Neteyam's hold.

But alas, Neteyam showed little inclination to release his irritated captive as he attempted to prevent an all-out brawl.

"Mawey, y/n. Mawey," Neteyam pleaded softly in your ear, altering his grip from your flailing arms to around your waist, essentially hoisting you off your feet and dragging you away from the bruised and battered boy that you remained intent on hurting.

"I will kill him," you hissed menacingly.

Neteyam's grip instantly tightened–he seemed determined to restrain you and prevent any further chaos.

In a low, soothing voice into your ear, he retorted, "No, you won't."

Under normal circumstances, if you had not been quite so consumed by seething rage, you might've noticed the flutters of excitement in the pit of your stomach as Neteyam's velvety voice caressed your ear, sending the heat of his breath tingling down your neck. Alas, you were consumed by unbridled fury.

Meanwhile, back at the center of the conflict, Lo'ak was engaged in a heated exchange with one of Aonung's friends. With an aggressive shove to the chest, Lo'ak sent the kid stumbling backward.

Naturally, this act of provocation led to a retaliatory shove from the offending boy. The tension in the air thickened as another fight seemed imminent.

However, as though summoned by divine intervention (or just sheer nosiness), Jake and Tonowari burst onto the scene from where they had been residing further down the shore. They hastily made their way over to the contentious group–eager to discover what upheaval you all had gotten up to.

You muttered a curse under your breath, knowing that you really stepped in it this time.

Jake had explicitly instructed you and his children to steer clear of trouble, particularly any sort of mischief that might land them all in hot water.

Yet there you were, having done the complete opposite—you'd gone and beat the living daylight out of the chief's son.

Neteyam, well aware of your obvious distress, gently squeezed your waist in a reassuring manner. He looked at you with an air of confidence that somehow assured you everything would be okay. "I'll take care of it," he boldly declared.

As he finally released his reassuring grip on your middle, you couldn't deny how much you immediately missed the warmth and comfort it provided. The sudden void left by the absence of contact struck you like a bucket of cold water on a chilly morning. Shaking your head, you attempted to dismiss those inconvenient thoughts from your mind.

"No," you began with a sigh, exasperation creeping into your tone. "You didn't even do anything."

It was practically Neteyam's full-time job–swooping in like a hero to rescue anyone and everyone, whether it was his brother or his sisters or yourself.

It was as if he just couldn't help himself; he had to take the bullet every single time (yikes). It was both endearing and frustrating in equal measure.

His behavior had to stem from some kind of savior complex—you swore you could see through it all.

You knew the reason behind his rescue missions was simply the immense pressure his father put on him. Being the eldest child in the family, Neteyam bore the weight of his father's expectations on his shoulders every single day.

"It doesn't matter," Neteyam murmured dismissively, cutting off any further attempts at discussion. He slipped in front of you and made his way toward the unfolding scene with determination written all over his face.

Left behind, standing helplessly amidst dust motes that swirled where he once stood mere seconds ago, and your words still trapped halfway up your throat, you couldn't do anything but blink at his retreating back.

Upon returning to the Sully family's marui pod, you, Neteyam, and Lo'ak stood apprehensively as Jake began to furiously pace in front of you.

Lo'ak was clearly pissed off. He clutched his arm with a vice-like grip, attempting to appear wounded.

You nearly rolled your eyes at the sight. With a grin threatening to break across your face, you had to avert your gaze from the boy to avoid making an untimely scene.

You knew that he wasn't injured in the slightest. One of Aonung's friends had barely shoved him moments earlier.

You suspected he was just putting on a show to earn some sympathy from his father and possibly receive a lighter scolding.

In all honesty, Jake shouldn't have had to yell at anyone but you. If Jake were to hold anyone accountable for the recent chaos, it should have been you. After all, you were the one who threw the first punch, dishing out a humble thrashing to Aonung that would undoubtedly give him pause before stirring up trouble again.

Jake continued his relentless pacing back and forth like a caged animal. It was making you dizzy.

The atmosphere in the marui pod was thick with tension as each step echoed ominously throughout the room. Finally, Jake could contain his frustration no longer.

"What was the one thing I asked? The one thing?!" He stopped abruptly and turned to face the trio of teenagers, awaiting a response like a teacher expecting students to provide an answer to their query.

"Stay out of trouble," Lo'ak muttered with an air of resignation. He barely managed to finish uttering those words before Jake was upon you all again with all the vigor and authority of a seasoned marine.

"Stay out of trouble," he repeated mockingly. "Right."

Amidst the palpable tension in the room, Neteyam bravely took a step forward with his hands raised, eager to defuse the situation like the textbook definition of the golden child that he was.

Clearing his throat, he began, "It was my fault—" But Jake was unyielding. He was not having any of that bullshit.

Infuriated by the mere thought of Neteyam trying to shoulder the blame when it clearly wasn't his mess to carry, Jake cut him off with a fiery glare.

"Oh, I don't think so," Jake chided, pointing a finger at Neteyam.

The sudden shift in energy made Neteyam visibly gulp. He sucked in his cheeks and averted his gaze, quickly realizing that retreat was his best course of action.

"You gotta stop taking the heat for these knuckleheads!" Jake continued. With that said, he pointed his accusatory finger at you and Lo'ak.

Lo'ak's eyebrows shot up and furrowed, causing deep creases between them, as his mouth hung open in disbelief at being pigeonholed as the troublemaker.

He was fully aware that he hadn't been the one behind the afternoon's events–not this time around anyway, as surprising as it may have seemed.

You, too, were fully aware that Lo'ak didn't instigate the fight. You weren't about to let him take the heat for your own misbehavior.

You quickly extended a protective hand in front of Lo'ak, meeting his eye before turning back to face Jake.

"No, Lo'ak had nothing to do with this. It was my fault, seriously. I started it." You admitted.

Jake's eyes shut tight upon hearing your confession, and he expelled an exasperated sigh, heavy with frustration. Deep down, you knew that you were about to get it.

"y/n," he began, finally opening his eyes and turning his full attention towards you with an air of bewilderment. "You got some good hits in, I'll give you that," He paused momentarily before continuing with a mixture of astonishment and disappointment in his voice, "But the chief's son? Do you have any idea what Tonowari could've done to us? What the hell were you thinking, kid?"

You visibly winced as Jake's words hit you like a ton of bricks. He definitely had a valid point there.

The truth was that you hadn't been thinking—not one bit.

All you could recall was Aonung taunting Kiri without an ounce of remorse and then getting all up in your personal space like he had the right to. That was enough for you to see nothing but red.

In that heated moment, the thought of potential consequences flew right over your head. It was as though any semblance of logic had temporarily eluded you.

As you mentally retraced the earlier events that had unfolded before your eyes, you finally dwelled on the severity of the situation.

You didn't consider how your reckless actions could have jeopardized not only your own safety but also that of the Sullys, potentially resulting in their sudden eviction from their newfound home—a home they had fought so hard to earn a place in.

The full gravity of your reckless act hung heavily on your shoulders, like an enormous boulder strapped to your back.

"I'm really sorry, sir," you uttered with undeniable sincerity in your tone.

You tried to maintain eye contact with Jake, but the guilt in your stomach compelled you to anxiously dart your gaze away. The overwhelming shame gnawed at your conscience relentlessly.

Jake, sensing your unease, heaved a heavy sigh once again.

It wasn't lost on you that Jake was treating you far more gently than he would have treated either of his own sons had they been in this situation. This realization only doubled the weight on your shoulders.

At that moment, you felt like an unwanted appendix to their family unit—a burden they never should have taken in.

They didn't have to offer you a place in their home after your parents' deaths, nor did they have to take you with them while they sought uturu with the Metkayina. And yet, they did. And how did you repay their boundless generosity? With this…shitshow.

You found yourself longing for Jake's anger and reprimand instead of the current watered-down scolding he was dishing you. But Jake, obstinately persistent as ever, didn't indulge your desire for absolution through shouting.

As if trying to reach out into your thoughts, he leaned down in an attempt to align his gaze with your line of vision. His hope was to establish eye contact and facilitate a genuine conversation.

His attempts proved futile, though, as he failed to catch your darting eyes. Jake's face scrunched with genuine concern.

Delving further into the matter at hand, he gently inquired, "Why'd you hit him, y/n? Did he do something to you?" His brows knitted into a look of utmost concern, clearly desperate for an explanation that could offer a semblance of understanding as to why you went crazy on the chief's son.

The mere thought of the incident was enough to make your blood surge with fury again.

It occurred to you that you hadn't actually filled Neteyam or Lo'ak in on the details of what had transpired before your little scuffle. The three of you had been too busy being unceremoniously dragged back to the marui pod with your tails between your legs.

With clenched fists, you looked down to see your knuckles–red and battered–for the first time since the confrontation.

The visualized memory of your punches landing on Aonung's face brought you a mix of satisfaction and disgust.

"Aonung wouldn't leave Kiri alone," you spat out, a hint of bitter resentment in your tone. "He kept picking on her and called her a freak."

A brief pause allowed another wave of anger to wash over you.

"And then he started being all gross towards me," you continued. "He grabbed my hand, and I just…reflexed... I guess."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Lo'ak snickered at your choice of words, clearly amused by how casually you downplayed the severity with which you'd beat the actual shit out of Aonung.

Lo'ak's joy was short-lived due to the sudden and simultaneous glare from both Jake and Neteyam that pierced straight through his amusement like a sharp spear.

Jake slowly directed his attention back towards you, lowering his tall frame to match your height.

It was a comical sight as he contorted himself into a near-squatting pose. You hesitantly lifted your eyes to meet Jake's, and to your surprise, you found a warm, gentle smile gracing his stern features.

His eyes held pools of gratitude as he gently placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, providing a solid anchor to steady your quivering soul.

"Thank you," Jake said softly, his voice laced with sincere gratitude.

You stared at him in confusion.

Why the hell was Jake thanking you when you almost got them all booted off the island like unwanted baggage?

Searching for an explanation, you let out an involuntary, bewildered "huh?" that accurately represented your current state of mind.

The sheer candidness of your reaction brought forth a chuckle that Jake tried hard to suppress. He seemed bemused by your baffled demeanor and swiftly decided to put an end to the suspense.

"For standing up for my daughter," Jake explained, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "And for putting that little rascal in his rightful place," he added with a smug expression.

Listening to Jake's heartfelt acknowledgment warmed your soul.

Your lips parted as they inched from ear to ear in sync with Jake's own radiant grin, happy that you had stood up for what mattered when it counted the most.

As his words washed over you like a soothing balm, an immaterial weight had seemingly lifted from your chest–one that you hadn't even known had been weighing down on you so heavily until that very moment.

Jake stretched to his full height, puffing out his chest as he authoritatively placed his hands on his hips. He fixed his gaze on his two sons, who exchanged wary glances with each other.

He took a deep breath before delivering his unexpected command.

"Go make peace with Aonung," he said to his boys, nodding firmly as if trying to convince himself of the wisdom of his decision.

Lo'ak's jaw dropped. "What?" he blurted out, his head lurching forward in disbelief.

Jake scowled at Lo'ak's unrestrained backtalk.

You shifted uncomfortably beside Lo'ak, feeling an inexplicable sense of camaraderie. Why should they go make peace with the enemy?

Exasperation danced across Jake's face as he ran a weary hand over it, trying to collect himself for the explanation that was unnecessarily demanded.

"Listen," he began, sounding more than a bit frustrated. "I don't care how you do it. Just go make sure y/n doesn't have to beat up any more of those guys."

Jake did a terrible job of disguising the wide grin that threatened to split his face in half as he glanced back toward you.

You could already tell that you would never live this down.

Neteyam, with a determined expression on his face, nodded firmly at his father's request. "Yes, sir," he replied dutifully.

Lo'ak, however, couldn't have been more displeased, and his disapproval was all too apparent. Neteyam took hold of Lo'ak's arm and practically had to drag him out of the pod.

Jake watched his eldest son in approval, grateful that at least one of his boys was on the same wavelength as him.

With a look of satisfaction, he turned back to you and jerked his head in the direction his two sons had disappeared. "You should go find Kiri," he suggested. "She's by the shore with Neytiri."

You nodded obediently and spun around to exit the pod yourself. But before you managed to get very far, Jake called out to you with a severity that betrayed how truly important he saw your errand.

His facial expression shifted into solemn seriousness. "I mean it, y/n," he insisted. "I appreciate you standing up for my baby girl."

A sad smile played across Jake's features as he added, "She's… she hasn't been having the easiest time adjusting to our new life here."

That fact was not lost on you.

You'd spent countless hours listening attentively to Kiri's impassioned rants about how much she despised their new reef home–a place that just made her feel even more alienated than she did back in the forest.

"Of course," you replied hesitantly, not entirely sure of what else to say in the situation.

It was obvious to anyone who knew you well that you'd risk your life for Kiri's sake in a heartbeat. After all, the minor danger you faced today was absolutely insignificant compared to what you'd do for your friend.

Jake's smile never wavered. He playfully ruffled your hair as if you were a little kid needing reassurance, causing you to let out an exasperated groan. He was such a dad.

"Alright, get outta here," Jake ordered as laughter danced within his voice, his demeanor that of a caring father.

You didn't need to be told twice. You hastily exited the pod while simultaneously trying your best to tame your tousled hair, which now resembled a bird's nest caught in a storm.

Immediately after stepping outside the pod, you noticed Neteyam and Lo'ak still lingering nearby, definitely not 'making peace' with Aonung.

Lo'ak was leaning against the marui pod, wearing an expression that screamed boredom, while Neteyam appeared quite preoccupied.

He practically had the entire side of his head glued to the pod as he clearly tried to eavesdrop on your conversation with Jake.

With a shake of your head, you faced the brothers directly, amusement twinkling in your eyes.

You cleared your throat and shot a sort of 'what the hell?' look at Neteyam, who was quick to whip his head toward you. He backed away from the pod, feigning ignorance.

You narrowed your eyes at him, demanding an explanation with a simple "Um?"

As if on cue, Lo'ak decided that this would be the perfect time to point out the painfully obvious.

"He was trying to listen in on your conversation," he declared as if the revelation would be of immense assistance.

The unwelcome input earned him a fierce glare from Neteyam, who was not at all pleased with his brother's willingness to rat him out.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes in exasperation as you regarded the two siblings.

"No shit, Lo'ak." you retorted bitingly, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "But why?" This time, your probing inquiry was directed squarely at Neteyam as you sought to get to the bottom of his mysterious behavior.

Despite his earlier nonchalance, Neteyam hesitantly stepped forward with newfound concern etched into his expression.

"You said that Aonung grabbed your hand?" He inquired, his eyes a concoction of fury and worry.

You stared at Neteyam because, yes, you had said that already, and he clearly heard you.

"Yes," you replied, your voice flat and unamused.

Neteyam narrowed his eyes and cautiously stepped closer, tilting his head down to lock gazes with you before forging ahead. "And you said he was being gross? Like… he was trying to come onto you?"

The mere memory of Aonung's behavior sent shivers down your spine.

It wasn't the first time that you had been on the receiving end of Aonung's unwelcome advances since arriving on the island, but you could cope with that. The real issue arose when Aonung decided to mess with someone dear to you—someone like Kiri.

A new wave of hatred washed over you at the memory of your encounter.

Despite the brewing storm within your soul, you attempted to shake off Neteyam's concern. You really didn't want to keep thinking about Aonung's sorry fish ass.

"Yes, Neteyam, that's what I said. But it's not a big deal. I was more concerned about Kiri. And I'm actually supposed to be checking on her right now, so…" You widened your eyes, shooting Neteyam a somewhat comical, unimpressed look before attempting to step around him and head off towards the shoreline.

Just as you were about to make your way past him, you felt a hand on your arm, halting your escape. You followed the blue-striped appendage upwards, your eyes finally meeting Neteyam's sheepish expression.

He appeared mortified by his own actions and quickly released his grip on your arm as though he had just touched a burning hot flame.

"S-Sorry," he stammered awkwardly. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like that after… he… agh!… Sorry."

He was quick to apologize, wincing at his misstep, and the regret in his voice was palpable. He stumbled over his words like someone trudging through the densest of forests.

You rolled your eyes at Neteyam's sudden hesitance to lay a finger on you—he was never weary about touching you.

It was evident that he was attempting to be considerate after you had just given Aonung a thorough beating for having the audacity to grab your hand. Nonetheless, in your perspective, there was a world of difference between Aonung's intrusive touch and Neteyam's gentle one.

Feeling the need to clarify the situation, you addressed Neteyam and reassured him with a lighthearted tone, "You're allowed to touch me, 'Teyam."

Observing his reaction, you grinned at the burst of relief that spread across his face. He let out a hasty exhale that almost sounded like a muted sigh, lively nodding along to your comforting words.

Beside him, Lo'ak, who had still been casually leaning against the side of the hut, let out a snort that echoed through the air.

"Gross," he scoffed with an exaggerated grimace on his face.

Pushing off the hut, he strode towards Neteyam, the mischievous glint in his eyes combined with his devilish grin betraying his intentions.

"You're allowed to touch me whenever you want, 'Teyam," Lo'ak teased in a ridiculous falsetto as he approached Neteyam from behind.

With an exaggerated flair, he reached out and squeezed his brother's arms in a sarcastic display of affection. His lips formed an overly dramatic pout as he pushed them in Neteyam's direction.

The moment barely lasted before Lo'ak folded over in a fit of laughter, clearly amused by his own antics. His cheeky grin spread from ear to ear as he struggled to catch his breath between guffaws.

Neteyam was not as amused.

With narrowed eyes and a sour expression, he tried not to relent to Lo'ak's antics. His patience wore thin until he finally let out an irritated hiss directly at Lo'ak, who was still bent over laughing.

In an attempt to regain some dignity and escape Lo'ak's relentless teasing, Neteyam shoved him away, sending him stumbling several feet back in the process.

As Neteyam struggled to compose himself after being put on display for your amusement due to the constant tormenting of his mischief mongerer of a brother, a deep shade of purple bloomed across his cheeks–evidence of his mixed feelings of embarrassment and annoyance.

It was obvious that he was trying hard not to lose his composure over the incident.

To avoid any further humiliation from the spectacle, Neteyam shook his head and directed his gaze away from you–seeking solace in staring intently at anything else but you.

A blush crept up your face, the hue coordinating with Neteyam's purpling cheeks.

You did not sound like that.

Desperate to distract yourself from the situation, you decided to change your focus to the little jokester, who was still laughing at his brother. You feigned an abrupt lunge toward him.

Lo'ak, completely caught off guard, flinched embarrassingly hard and muttered a terrified 'shit' under his breath.

You shook your head at his overreaction, pushing past the suddenly skittish Lo'ak, who swiftly hid behind his brother in fear.

Ignoring the commotion behind you, you focused on moving toward the shore to find Kiri.

As you made your way towards the water's edge, you called over your shoulder with a cunning grin, "Let me know if Aonung has one, or two black eyes." You teased with a smirk playing at your lips, the playful taunt drifting off into the air as you walked away.

Lo'ak shook his head incredulously at your retreating figure before turning back to Neteyam, who was still sporting a deep blush from ear to ear.

Lo'ak just couldn't help himself.

"Bro. Your girlfriend is scary as fuck." Lo'ak said with a shudder, nudging Neteyam in the ribs as if to underscore his point. Despite the teasing tone, there was a hint of genuine fright in his voice.

Neteyam started to form a reply, "She's not—," but he caught himself, letting out an exasperated groan instead.

Thoroughly annoyed by his brother's relentless poking into his… whatever it was he had with you, he decided it was time for a little distance. With a quick shove to get Lo'ak off him, Neteyam moved away with purpose, intent on finding Aonung and getting the whole thing over with.

Naturally, Lo'ak was not one to accept defeat so easily. Hastily regaining his balance, he broke into a light jog and quickly caught up to Neteyam's side.

The playful smirk on Lo'ak's face betrayed the fact that he wasn't quite ready to let the situation go.

"She's not what?" Lo'ak inquired, feigning innocence but definitely not done being a little shit. "Not your girlfriend, or not scary? 'Cause I'm pretty sure she's at least one of those."

The corners of Neteyam's mouth threatened to betray a grin at the absurdity of the conversation.

Instead of acknowledgment, though, he fixed a determined glare at Lo'ak, hoping that if he couldn't escape through physical distance, maybe stony silence would do the trick.

Despite his seemingly relaxed demeanor, Neteyam found himself battling an internal storm as he recalled the day's events.

Before his awkward fumble with you, he had been trying to decipher what had transpired between you and Aonung on the beach. He wanted to know what could have provoked you enough to attack Aonung the way you did.

As you recounted the events to him earlier, you confessed that Aonung had invaded your personal space, said gross things to you, and even gone as far as grabbing your hand unprovoked.

The mere thought of that skxawng purposefully making you uncomfortable boiled Neteyam's blood. He felt the rage surge within him.

On the outside looking in, it was plain as day that you and Neteyam shared a close bond–you were best friends through and through.

And yet, that knowledge did little to quell the overpowering sense of possessiveness that engulfed Neteyam at the thought of another guy trying to woo you.

Undoubtedly, you were remarkably beautiful; anyone with eyes could see that.

Neteyam was allowed to think of his best friend as beautiful.

It was more than just your physical allure, though. You were so passionate about everything you held dear. Your closest friends, the group of orphaned children that you looked after back in the forest–you cared for them all with burning intensity.

Your dedication to your warrior training was unmatched, even by Neteyam himself. You strived fiercely to master every skill and overcome each challenge in your path. Even your penchant for engaging in spirited conversations about the most random, mundane day-to-day things–you were an enigma that never ceased to captivate.

Coupled with a genuinely warm heart and a razor-sharp wit, you instantaneously charmed anyone in your presence. Your fiery temperament often erupted when things heated up, making it clear that you were never one to back down from a challenge–an attribute Neteyam secretly cherished.

If anything, you seemed too cool for someone like him. And yet, he couldn't help but find himself utterly enamored with every aspect of your character.

There wasn't a thing that he disliked about you.

However, all those emotions were normal because you and he were friends. It was only natural for him to appreciate the characteristics that made you who you were.

And, of course, others admired those same traits in you too, which was exactly why you had such a large circle of friends. Even other guy-friends.

Like his brother, for example.

It was okay that Neteyam felt a little more than just a twinge of jealousy when he’d notice Lo'ak being extra touchy with you. When he'd grab your wrist and go all mushy trying to convince you to re-braid his hair or re-shave the side of his head, knowing that you'd be gentler while doing so than Neytiri typically was.

Or when Lo'ak would virtually throw himself on top of you, insisting on sharing a hammock just because you managed to snatch the last vacant one.

And you would give in to him every single time, despite your feigned annoyance, because you were just that kind of person.

Though Neteyam gritted his teeth at you two in silent disapproval, he repeatedly convinced himself that it was entirely within the bounds of how two friends were allowed to act. You choosing to share a hammock with Lo'ak was just a good-natured deed from someone who looked out for the best interests of their friends. Nothing more than innocent camaraderie.

His blood boiled on another level when he heard that Aonung had laid a hand on you.

But surely, he thought, that feeling of burning rage encapsulating his heart was nothing more than the completely wholesome, totally platonic loyalty and devotion one naturally felt for their best friend.

That was what normal platonic friendships were all about, right?

With a sudden, fluid motion, Lo'ak interrupted Neteyam's mental meanderings by waving a hand in front of his face.

Lo'ak couldn't help but chuckle at the bizarre sight before him. It looked like Neteyam was trying to mentally communicate with an invisible force.

Addressing his brother with a bemused look, Lo'ak asked, "Bro, are you good? You looked like you were having a stroke or something."

Neteyam blinked a few times before the reality of the situation dawned on him.

In truth, Neteyam thought that no, he probably wasn't anywhere close to being okay. He was probably definitely teetering on the edge of an existential crisis centered around his best friend.

Due to the current turmoil raging in his mind, speech was an almost impossible feat for Neteyam to achieve; instead, a cascade of words just kind of tumbled out without any consultation from his overwhelmed brain.

"What do you…I mean, y/n? How do you see her?" stammered Neteyam, catching Lo'ak completely off guard.

Well, maybe not completely.

Lo'ak wasn't surprised to find that Neteyam was thinking about you. There was seemingly no waking moment where you weren't occupying some corner of his thoughts.

Despite this knowledge, it still struck Lo'ak as strange that Neteyam would suddenly ask him about you as if they regularly talked about stuff like girls together.

Lo'ak's eyebrow arched upward in an unmistakable display of confusion. "What do you mean, how do I see y/n?" He asked, genuinely baffled by the seemingly random question.

Neteyam, typically stoic and composed, responded with an unceremonious shrug.

It was an odd departure from his usual tall stance and confident posture–a constant reminder to all that he was the epitome of the perfect warrior son.

But this time, Neteyam couldn't quite meet Lo'ak's gaze directly. Instead of meeting Lo'ak with his usual steadfastness, Neteyam's eyes wandered down toward the ground between them as though the answer to his question was lying somewhere in the dusty sand.

Grumbling under his breath, Neteyam muttered, "I mean. Do you see her as a sister, or just a friend, or…. something more, I guess?" His words trailed off, uncertainty permeating every syllable.

Momentarily taken aback by the probing question, Lo'ak fell silent for a few seconds as he mulled over the implications of Neteyam's question.

Sure, Lo'ak thought you were cool–no dispute there–and you and he were definitely friends. Maybe not as tightly knit as you were with Neteyam or Kiri, but you and Lo'ak still shared a fair share of bonding moments.

You would often join Lo'ak and Spider on their daring expeditions into the heart of the forest–a pastime you all knew would've been strictly forbidden if Neteyam had ever found out.

There was no denying that Lo'ak definitely cared about you; maybe it wasn't the same affection one might have for a sister (he'd be lying to himself if he said that he didn't think y/n was attractive). Still, it wasn't exactly in the realm of romance either.

Lo'ak knew all too well that Neteyam would skin him alive if he even thought about liking you in that way.

The mental image of Neteyam's incensed reaction brought forth an involuntary snicker from Lo'ak.

Neteyam noticed his brother's amusement and responded with a furrowed brow, clearly unimpressed by whatever had caused Lo'ak to laugh. His expression was stern and moody, prompting Lo'ak to quickly alleviate any suspicions Neteyam might have formed.

"y/n is my friend. You already know that." He reassured his older brother, "She grew up with us."

Neteyam slowly nodded his head, not entirely convinced but willing to let the matter slide for now. However, his gaze seemed distant and preoccupied, as if there were thoughts weighing heavily on his mind.

His eyes glazed over ever so slightly as he retreated further into his own mind, leaving an eerie silence hanging between them.

After the silence stretched between them for a few tense seconds too long, it became apparent that Neteyam wouldn't divulge whatever was troubling him without some prodding on Lo'ak's part.

With an exaggerated sigh for dramatic effect and a hint of mischievous humor twinkling in his eyes, Lo'ak decided to press further.

"Alright then," he began nonchalantly, "since we're already on the subject… how do you see y/n?" He couldn't resist adding a teasing tone as he posed the question.

Upon hearing the question, Neteyam instantly stiffened, his head tilting downward in a reflexive motion that allowed his braids to form a protective curtain over his face.

That particular mannerism was all too familiar to Lo'ak, who had observed his brother resort to the same tactic countless times as a defensive response.

With a quick shrug, Neteyam muttered out a barely audible and very unconvincing, "I don't know."

Lo'ak narrowed his eyes at his brother's feeble attempt at nonchalance, not buying into the performance at all. He'd known for a while about the depth of Neteyam's feelings towards you–clearly way more than just friendly affection.

The truth grew glaringly obvious with each passing day; however, Lo'ak had been aware of the emotional connection for years.

"Yeah, that's bullshit," Lo'ak responded, shaking his head at his brother's clear dodge. "You wouldn't have asked me if you didn't know."

Neteyam released a frustrated sigh tinged with annoyance at how effortlessly his brother could read him.

Their mother often warned Neteyam that he wore his heart on his sleeve and couldn't mask his emotions if he tried. She knew this because Neteyam was like a carbon copy of herself. Those words had always frightened him—being exposed like that—but deep down, he knew she was right.

Neteyam had a conflicted look on his face as he hesitantly shared his thoughts with his brother.

"I think I see y/n differently," Neteyam confessed, his words shrouded in ambiguity.

Lo'ak, despite the vagueness of the statement, nodded slowly, urging his brother to elaborate.

Neteyam somehow found the courage to continue. "I probably think about her too much to say I see her as just a friend. Definitely not like a sister either," he added with a grimace, visibly repulsed by the thought as he shook his head.

Lo'ak laughed at Neteyam's reaction, provoking a playful, yet forceful shove from his brother.

Regaining his balance after the mild assault, Lo'ak clasped a hand onto Neteyam's shoulder with a lighthearted grin.

"You should really tell her, bro," he suggested earnestly.

Neteyam's eyes widened in alarm at the proposal, and he instinctively whirled his head in his brother's direction.

In doing so, his braids followed suit with their own whipping motion.

Lo'ak narrowly dodged the unexpected barrage of hair, squinting his eyes and leaning away just in time.

"Or not…" he mumbled, lowering his voice as he witnessed the sheer panic etched across Neteyam's face.

Neteyam shook his head vehemently, unable to understand how Lo'ak could actually propose such an insane idea.

"No way. Y/n doesn't think of me like that," he adamantly stated.

And really, how could you? The bond between you and Neteyam stretched back as far as either of you could remember—inseparable partners in mischief and life.

You grew up side by side, practically joined at the hip; you were a constant presence in his life. You'd seen each other through thick and thin, weathered all of life's storms together. You'd stood by him through every uneven haircut and awkward phase he went through, a true testament to your unwavering friendship.

He vividly remembered how when he was thirteen, you were the shoulder he leaned on after receiving a particularly harsh scolding from his father. You'd enfolded him in your arms, even as hot tears trailed down his cheeks and onto your hair. The sheer agony and embarrassment of it all seemed insurmountable at the time, but somehow your reassuring embrace made it bearable.

In recent times, you had borne witness to Neteyam's continual fumbles in your presence.

More often than not, they ended with him stumbling over his words around you, or being caught staring at you, or going all flustered when you'd make eye contact with him.

It was genuinely sad.

But above all else, Neteyam didn't even have the title of future olo'eyktan anymore since their move to the reef. Now he was just Neteyam.

Nothing more. Nothing special. With so many other potential suitors living on Pandora, all eager to win your favor and heart, why would you settle for him?

Lo'ak stared at his brother with a deadpan expression, evenly poised between amusement and annoyance. "I really can't tell if you're just trying to be humble or if you're actually that stupid," he said, his voice genuine.

He paused for a moment, taking in the affronted expression on Neteyam's face, before continuing. "I mean, come on! You're obviously in love with y/n, and y/n is obviously in love with you, so… what's the big issue here?"

Neteyam's eyes narrowed in disbelief as he prepared to assure Lo'ak that you were definitely not in love with him, but before he could get a word out of his dumbstruck mouth, the sound of rustling leaves and light footsteps interrupted their conversation.

Both brothers froze, ears perking up in attention as they caught the unmistakable chime of a familiar giggle.

Out from the protective confines of a low-hanging bunch of leaves came their little sister, a mischievous grin plastered on her tiny face.

"I knew it!" sang Tuk in a teasing melody as she skipped towards Neteyam and grasped his arm with a vice-like grip.

Jumping up and down with seemingly boundless energy, she reveled in her newly discovered knowledge.

Neteyam's heart dropped like a stone when he realized the situation he had gotten himself into. His little sister was about as adept at keeping secrets as he was. Which wasn't good at all. Which meant that Neteyam was screwed.

He frantically attempted to shake his head 'no,' engaging in a futile bid to persuade his already-convinced sister of his supposed indifference towards you.

Overwhelmed by desperation, Neteyam tried to stifle Tuk's excitement by shushing her vigorously. "No, no, no. It's not like that, Tuk," he pleaded.

Neteyam gently placed his hand on Tuk's head, trying to still her bounciness.

She reluctantly stopped bouncing but couldn't wipe the enormous grin off her face, as if she had just discovered the world's biggest secret.

"Lo'ak is right!" Tuk exclaimed with glee. "You need to tell y/n that you're in love with her! Then you both can become mated, just like mom and dad! And after that, you can have a whole bunch of little kids like they did with us! You can name one of them after me!"

Lo'ak, who was standing nearby, stifled a snort at how eagerly and confidently Tuk had outlined Neteyam's entire life trajectory in a matter of seconds. He smirked as he watched Neteyam's reaction to their sister's wild imagination.

In stark contrast to Tuk's excitement, Neteyam's face glowed in embarrassment, caught completely off guard by the talk about him mating and having kids with you.

Determined to regain control of the conversation, Neteyam firmly placed his other hand on Tuk's shoulder and bent down a little so that he could look directly into her eyes.

Addressing her in the most serious tone he could muster, he stated: "Tuk, listen closely—I never said I was in love with y/n."

However, Tuk was unfazed by his denial and abruptly interrupted him.

With all the assertiveness a tiny eight-year-old could muster, she poked her small finger firmly into Neteyam's chest. Her eyes gleaming with mischief and a cheeky smile plastered on her face, she said slowly and with complete certainty, "But you are in love with her."

Letting out a long, exasperated sigh, Neteyam found he lacked the energy to even dispute Tuk's assertion. He'd never been much of a convincing liar anyway.

Instead, he decided to go for a different tactic by gently placing both of his hands on her shoulders and adopting a serious expression.

"You are not going to tell anyone about any of what you think you heard."

He put particular emphasis on the word 'think,' giving his sister a significant nod as though that would somehow engrain the words into her stubborn little mind.

"And especially not y/n," he quickly added, feeling his heart beat just a little faster at the thought of you discovering the alleged secret in such an embarrassingly unfortunate way.

Tuk dramatically rolled her eyes, evidently disgruntled by the unfair reality that she'd be unable to freely broadcast each and every one of her thoughts to anyone within earshot.

Still, she begrudgingly muttered her acquiescence with an insincere "Fine."

Yet, it was clear that she was still unhappy with the deal when she pointedly avoided meeting Neteyam's gaze while uttering her reluctant agreement.

Neteyam refused to take any chances with his sister.

He recognized the profound influence he had on Tuk as a sort of second father figure, but this only seemed to take effect when he adopted a grave demeanor.

Looking into her eyes with an air of utmost sincerity, he raised a finger and pointed it to her chest. His voice took on a more commanding tone, though only marginally harsher.

"I mean it, Tuk. Do you swear?" he inquired, extending his smallest finger in their customary gesture signifying an unbreakable promise.

The ritual dated back to their childhood days and had been passed down by their father.

For siblings Neteyam and Tuk, it symbolized the sacred bond between them. Tuk knew all too well that once she linked fingers with her brother, backing down was out of the question.

Upon seeing Neteyam's extended digit, she furrowed her brow in consternation.

She couldn't shake the memory of her other brother's vivid warning: Lo'ak had once gravely warned her that hundreds of little bugs would crawl into her ears in her sleep if a pinky promise were ever broken.

Sighing with visible reluctance, she hooked her small finger around Neteyam's larger one and mumbled an almost inaudible "I swear."

Neteyam's face immediately broke into a beaming smile upon hearing those decisive words. Breathing a sigh of relief as if he'd just prevented an impending catastrophe, he affectionately patted his sister on the head before straightening up to his full height, standing tall like a proud winner.

Crisis averted, he thought, though his mind continually strayed back to thoughts of you.

Deep down, he knew that the situation he found himself in was anything but over.

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