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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years

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I Don't Need Your Closure

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 8.5K

✦Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mentions of SA (previous relationship), self-hate, nightmares, deployment, anxiety, slight smut, shower smut.

✦A/n: This was sitting in my drafts for the past 5 days, I couldn't write the end... but now it's here, thank the gods.

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You couldn’t stop pacing; not since you woke up this morning, and you had continuously been on the move ever since. You’d woke up this morning, after tossing and turning all night, brain buzzing like a live wire.

Your sleep pattern had been erratic ever since Jake got deployed, the short two months had turned into eight months, and you were exhausted. It wasn't like you and Jake slept together; heck you weren't even actually together, but it was knowing that he was close that let you sleep, and with him gone… well your sleep disappeared too.

The two of you had been left in this weird, awkward phase after the incident happened. God, you couldn’t even think about, let alone talk about. You hadn’t told anyone what happened, and well, you and Jake hadn’t discussed it either.

I mean that could have partially been your fault, given that any time Jake called you made sure that Mathew was in the room, so he couldn't bring it up. But how else were you supposed to process it… Jake wasn’t here and well; you were so damaged that you weren’t even sure if you knew how to do the whole “relationship” thing anymore.

Though you have been having trouble sleeping in the last eight months, last night it was on a whole new level. You didn’t even know if you could consider your sleep last night, even sleeping. Given the fact that you would fall asleep for 30 minutes and then wake back up, your mind was on a constant loop that you couldn’t shut off. Not only were the nightmares insistent on ruining the state of your current mental health, but the added anxiety had completely screwed you over.

It was the constant flood of nagging questions, anxiety, confusion, and the overall terrifying feeling that your and Jake’s relationship might be forever changed after today.

Their deployment was finally up and the whole Dagger Squad was coming home today. But with the deployment ending, that meant Jake was home, and with Jake home that meant you had to have a conversation about the incident, and you just couldn't do it. Because that conversation was going to change everything.

It would change things in a way that terrified you; in a way that could mean losing Jake Seresin forever. If that was the outcome, well, you don’t think you could live through that kind of loss.

The kind of loss that was from losing the man that you think you love, but don't know how to love. Losing the one person that made you finally see the light of day. The man that had already come in and picked up all the pieces of your heart. Who had formed an amazing relationship with your son. Who loved and was loved by your son. Who had changed you so exponentially and erratically, that a life without him wouldn't be a life you wanted to live. That kind of loss would be the end of you.

When you finally left Adam, it was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. The ending of that relationship was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you, like you finally had a chance to restart and build a life for you and Mathew. Where you would both be safe and loved, to start anew.

But the idea of losing Jake, you were sure that outcome would destroy you. Not only you but also Mathew, the four-year-old had grown insanely attached to Jake. So much so that even with this deployment, Mathew was always asking about him and got the chance to talk to him at least once every two weeks, if not once a week.

You finally place the last book on the shelf, taking a step back, and glance to the “new spot” in which you'd place the bookshelf. You'd moved it around three times already this morning, the redecoration of your office had been the chosen form of distraction, and the new spot was technically the spot in which it started, but the activity had kept you busy, and truth be told that's the only thing keeping you at work.

You technically didn't need to be here today at all, but you wanted to finish up on paperwork for a new set of incoming recruits. Though, those plans quickly went out the window when you looked at the paperwork and all you saw was Jake. They hadn’t even been touched, which was saying a lot, given that you got here at 6:00 AM.

No one was in the office, given that the squadron was coming home. You shouldn't have even been in the office, but it was better to be here. With your mind radically spiraling, then in your own home where you saw Jake everywhere. Technically he was here too, but at least work was filled with formal Jake. Home was filled with cuddly Jake, and amazing with Mathew, Jake. It was just a lot of Jake, that made you feel things you shouldn’t.

“If you move that again, I'm calling the psychiatric doctor.”

The voice startles you and makes you jump slightly; your hard gaze crosses the room to find your sister resting against the doorway to your office.

“Yeah, I don't know how you didn't hear me or see me. I've been here since the second move of that shelf and I'm a little bit worried about you.” Her tone had remained teasing until she caught the way you couldn't stop fidgeting, and the downfall of your eyes cast to the ground.

Penny is at your side before you can even glance back up at her. Both her hands rest against your arms and rub up and down in a comforting manner.

“Y/n, what’s going on?”

You're shoulders slightly relax in her hold, though the tight smile that you try and give her only makes her worry about you more. You don't know how to talk about it, how are you supposed to tell Penny that you've been keeping a massive secret from her for eight months.

You can't help it when you start pacing again, brushing her hands off you, only to receive a loud sigh in reaction. You glance back at Penny and find her resting against your desk, silently waiting for you to tell her what the hell was going on.

The dramatic sigh you release would have been hilarious if it wasn't so serious. Deciding that it's better to just rip the Band-Aid off; quick and easy. You come to stand in front of your sister, hands resting on your hips, back straight, and trying to remain as calm as possible.

Penny gives you a reassuring smile and patiently waits for you to continue. With a deep sigh, words start tumbling out of your mouth before you can even comprehend what you're saying.

“Everything would’ve been fine; it could’ve been fine if he hadn’t kissed me. If after that first weekend that Jake met Mathew, I buried feelings and emotions and hid them deep within the ground.” You don't even realize that you've started pacing again, and the wide eyes from Penny, clearly mean she had no idea about what was going on. Your anxious pacing certainly isn’t helping her as she tries to process your words, just as fast as you say them.

“I could have hidden them and continued to have an amazing friendship with Jake. Not the relationship I want and hoped for, but at least a friendship. At least a life where Jake was a part of mine and Mathew’s everyday routine.”

And you had, you really had. You’ve done so good at hiding it, any and every emotion that wasn’t friendship, you had been able to hide from Jake for a year and a half. It killed you not to be able to hug him, love him, and express emotions like you wanted, but you weren’t sure if he liked you like that.

After that long weekend, you slowly started to pull back, well aware of every moment in which you were in each other's arms. It had been hard, but pulling away was easier than free-falling, and Jake had never said anything. He hadn't commented on how you started drifting apart. He’d never shown any emotion or any signs that he wanted anything else, anything more with you.

And now…

Your friendship had turned utterly grey when it should’ve been black and white. When you should’ve been able to separate your emotions and feelings. Not with Jake though, everything with him bled it into a mess of colors. Lines a mess, stripped and running through each other. Nowhere near the nice perfect picture you wanted; with colors that stayed in the lines and didn’t bleed.

The life that had you and Jake in the same picture, even if there was a large line separating you. Because even with that vast wasted space in between you, you still had each other. You never had to worry about stepping on each other’s toes, or whether he would get annoyed with you, or hate you, or not like you, or not love you…

Tears fall from your eyes, without you noticing. You've been so worked up that you hadn't noticed how your body started to shake and that barely any of your words were audible. That it was only a mumbled mess, and Penny had only been able to pick of random words in it.

“Hey, it’s okay sweetie.”

The heaving of your chest doesn't slow as Penny pulls you into her, rocking you slightly like she used to when you were little. One hand grasping at your back, while the other brushes your hair slightly, as she continually says that everything is going to be okay in your ear. Though it doesn't feel okay. All it feels like is that you're completely overwhelmed, and you don't know how to process it. Like your walls were caving in and no matter how hard you tried, it was going to collapse on top of you.

Like the last eight months, you've spent burying everything was for nothing because now it's all wide open for everybody to see.

“I just don't know what to do Pen. He came to say goodbye the night before his deployment, and he kissed me. He kissed me and it felt like everything was right and perfect, and then he just left. He didn't say anything; just turned and left.”

You hate the stare of pity that you get from Penny, she looks at you like if she says the wrong thing it's going to completely break you. Which it might, but that doesn't mean you want her to walk on eggshells around you.

“I’m sure he was just scared.”

You scoff slightly and your eyes roll, nearly touching the back of your head.

“This is Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, we're talking about Pen. I've seen that man do terrifying shit, believe me when I tell you he was not scared. I don't know what he was…”

This time it's Pennys turned to scoff at you, before going into full mom mode.

“Sweetheart, there is so much that you don't see, and you really need to talk to Jake about this.” The thought of having THIS conversation with Jake makes your anxiety spike again, and you're surprised that your bottom lip hasn't split open from the way that you've chewed on it.

“You don’t get it Pen, the only time I was able to sleep soundly was when he was in the house. When he was close by. The last eight months have been hell for me, because every night I wake up screaming. And sometimes it’s memories, but other times its Mav coming to tell me that he’s not here anymore. That something went wrong, and that Jake died. And those dreams, those are so much worse than the memories… and that’s saying something when you’ve been through everything I have.”

Your breathing doesn't slow, as you start pacing again, the onset of your panic attack is noticeable, but you can't stop it. Your glossed-over eyes don't know where to look because everything's a blur, and you can't stop the tears from running down your face. The slight shake of your arms has you gripping your shoulders, as you kneel down against the wall, back pressed in trying to ground yourself.

The continuous audio in your head of Adam screaming at you, and telling you how you weren't worth loving. That no one would ever love you, and that you were a waste of space. The emotions and feelings seep back in, of how he hurt you. How the bruises and cuts might have been healed, but your heart had never healed. Sure, Jake picked up the pieces and glued you back together, but he didn't understand the real damage. The internal damage that kept you lying awake at night. It was incessant and ever-looming, just waiting for the right moment.

You are damaged beyond repair, and you couldn't understand why everybody in your life claimed to love you, when you couldn't even love yourself. And if you couldn't even love yourself, how could Jake ever. But even if he ever did, you couldn’t let him see the real you, because the real you wasn’t worth it.

The shuttering in your shoulders hadn't stopped, but the tears had finally stopped falling and as you look up at Penny who has tears in her own eyes, the only emotion you can feel is vacancy.

“I love Jake, but I don’t know how to be loved or love anymore. That part of me hid away a long time ago, and I'm terrified that I'm never going to get it back.”

It's a number of sweet nothings that fall from Penny's lips, as she grasps onto you and pulls you into her chest. The both of you calming, safely resting in your big sister’s arms. The anxiety and stress drain from your body, though an overwhelming tiredness consumes you, and at some point, you fall asleep.

A welcomed dreamless sleep, one that you don't wake up screaming from.

…

“I haven’t seen her like this since we were kids. She used to have really bad nightmares when dad got deployed, but this … It scared me.”

Jake's eyes cast back to your sleeping form on the floor of your office, the setting sun peers through the window and even in your current state, Jake still thought you looked absolutely gorgeous.

“Is this the only breakdown she's had?” He doesn't mean for his tone to come off harsh, but he's a man in love and insanely protective.

“She said that she's been having nightmares again, but the way she described them… it's been bad Jake and she's been doing it alone. Because she doesn't think she's worth telling anyone.”

Penny can't stop the onset of tears, as she watches her baby sister sleep. Still reeling from the information that she learned and wondering what in the world your ex had done to you, that made you think so harshly about yourself.

“I don't know what happened to her in Florida, but when Bradley brought her home, she didn't talk for a week, and when she finally did start talking it was like nothing happened.”

The new information makes Jake's breath hitch slightly; Rooster hadn't gone into direct details about what happened when he brought you home. Jake knew it was bad, but to hear the raw details like that, felt like a knife had been plunged through his chest.

“I didn't see my little sister for months, she was only a shell of the girl she used to be, and then you show up. Whatever you did brought back a light in her. But after what I just saw, just heard, I’m terrified that it is, or it already has completely gone out.”

Penny's gaze cuts back from you to Jake, and her eyes pierce through his soul. He'd never seen Penny so heartbroken; in all the time he's been a Top Gun, Jake had never seen the oldest Benjamin so lost.

“I don't know all the details of what happened between you two, but she thinks that you don't have any feelings for her. Which I know is a goddamn lie, but she believes with her whole heart that she is not worth it. That she doesn’t deserve to be loved.” Penny breathes in a shattered breath as she tries to collect her thoughts, eyes closing for a moment still processing all the new information.

“I know that you can't make her change your mind, but she needs to know. Because right now she's terrified of losing you, and that thought alone has sent her spiraling, so deep into a black hole that she can't dig herself out. So, you have to, and if you can't, you need to tell me right now.”

The overwhelming sense of love and pure heartache that echo through the hollows of Jake’s heart, has the lump in his throat catching. A silver mist of tears lines his eyes, begging to fall, and as he watches the steady breathing flow in and out of your chest, they do. A sharp breath is sucked in, his hand quick to wipe away the stray tear, and his eyes never leave your broken form.

“She’s, my girl.” The statement has a shutter breath gasping from his chest, “guess it’s time I buck up and make it official.”

The harsh laugh that falls from Jake’s chest, is only to hide the pain he feels. The pain that he's caused you, not only the kiss but waiting so long. The time that he spent waiting for you to make the move when in reality you needed him to make it. To tell you that you were enough and that you were worth the love.

“Umm… Do you know where Maty is?”

A happy laugh falls from Penny’s chest as Jake asks the question, of course, Matthew was the main priority right up next to you.

“Yeah, he’s with mom and dad, but Amelia wanted to watch him tonight. I can go over and pick him up, don't worry about him.” Penny sees the slight apprehension on Jake's face.

“I always worry about him.” His statement is firm and not meant to be questioned.

Eye contact between the two is understanding, Jake had worried about Mathew just as much as Penny ever worried about Amelia. Penny knew then, that whether Mathew was blood-related or not to Jake, he was his son.

“I know, but I can handle tonight. I just need you to be there for Y/n.”

The gentle squeeze of the hand that Penny gives Jake, is a silent welcome. It was like at that moment before anyone else knew, Penny had declared Jake a part of the Benjamin family.

…

The soft stroke of your hair pulls you from the deep sleep, and your headaches slightly from the tears that you had shed. You're unsure if it's your mind playing tricks on you, or if he's actually here, if he is actually back. These last eight months have been rough, and your mind had started playing games on you.

Nights that you thought that he was with you, were only a harsh reminder to you when you woke up, and he was gone still. Though the familiar smell of jet fuel mixed in with his cologne is lulling you into a false state of comfort and ease.

The clench of your eyes shut tighter, gives you away, signally that you were awake. Though you were too afraid to open your eyes, too scared that the presence you thought was there would disappear. That Jake would still be gone. Though you're even more scared of the conversation that's sure to ensue if the presence really is Jake.

“Sweets, wake up for me baby.”

The sound of his voice has you gasping, as your eyes fly open, and once again tears stream down your face. The choked sound of the sob that leaves your chest, is more than enough motivation for Jake to grip onto you and pull you to him.

“I’m here, Sweets.”

And though the statement should comfort you, it only has your tears falling harder and faster. And even though you know you shouldn't, even though you're terrified of the outcome, you can't stop your hands from gripping onto his shirt. You hold on to him like he could slip between your fingers and fade away at any moment.

The stroke of Jake's hand through your hair and the tracing of his finger up your spine comforts you. Soothing your sobs momentarily as the both of you sit in silence, clinging to one another. If only, for just this moment.

…

You're not sure how much time has passed, but you know that your knees ache from the kneeling position that you're in. You know that it had to be a substantial amount of time as the white tee shirt you're pressed into against jake's chest, is completely soaked with your tears.

Even though you don't want to, even though you wish that you could stay in this specific moment forever, you pull away. Your eyes focus and you find his emerald, green pair watching you.

Though they don't hold the same light happy nature you're used to, tears streamed down from his face and that emerald green that's usually so bright and happy is surrounded by sorrow and sadness. A pain that strikes you right to your core.

“Jake” His name barely slips past your lips before you're gasping for breath and crying again, your chest shuddering and shaking as your emotions take over once again. Though this time it's not Penny trying to smooth you.

It's Jake, your Jake.

Who has been gone so long, but now is here in your arms holding you and pressing gentle kisses against the crown of your head. He was actually home.

Even though your mind is screaming at you to pull away, to pull up the walls once again. Your heart craves Jake, and you can’t stop yourself from melting in his hold.

“Sweets, let’s go home.”

You pull away from Jake before quietly questioning him, “Together?”

The pain is clear in your voice, and the sight of your near-trembling lip would break Jake altogether. But he finally had your tears subsiding, and he wasn’t going to risk you getting triggered by his own tears.

“Of course.”

His voice is steady and calming, as his hand comes up to brush a stray hair from your face, you can’t stop yourself from nuzzling into his palm.

“Darlin’ home is wherever, as long as it’s with you.”

His words sink deep in your chest, and you wonder if he means them, the same way that you do, when you mutter, ‘You are my home’ quietly against his palm.

Jake helps you up, the waver in your legs would send you tumbling if Jake's hands weren’t securely wrapped around your waist.

Though as if your standing, triggered the fog filling your mind to fade away, a harsh gasp slips from your lips, and you’re consumed with guilt.

“Mathew, oh my god..”

Before you can once again tumble into despair, Jake softly lifts your chin, and your eyes meet.

“Already taken care of darin’.”

The question of how forms on your lips, but is forgotten as Jake places a kiss on your forehead.

“He’s staying the night at Penny’s, he was my top priority, right next to you.”

He’s words warm your chest, and once again you remember why you, quite possibly love this man. Though your mind hastily ignores the thought, as it enters your mind.

“I miss the bug, but getting to have you to myself for one night is worth it.”

“Jake –”

“Not till we get home, Sweets.”

…

The drive home passes quickly with Jake driving your car, and you can't help but feel slightly bad, after all, he just got back from an 8-month deployment. You’re positive that he is shattered, considering the dark circles under his eyes, and you know that he came straight to you, considering the fact that his pack is now in your back seat, and he is still in his flight suit.

The feeling doesn't sit well in the base of your gut, and the anxiety of once again, of not being enough circulated through your mind. If you wouldn’t have been such a mess, then Jake wouldn’t need to be taking care of you. He shouldn’t have to be away for months on end, working his ass off, and have to come home to this.

You should be taking care of Jake. You should have been driving him home and already had dinner ready, but instead, you’ve failed once again. Only proving that each comment Adam ever said to you was true.

Jake pulls into your drive, and you’re so consumed with your doubt that you don’t even notice that you’ve parked until Jake opens your door. His palm faces up and waits for you to grasp it. When you do, Jake is quick to shut your door and rest you back against it. His eyes hold nothing but warmth and concern for you, though you can’t see it.

“Darlin’ you’re thinkin’ so loud, it’s given me a headache.”

At the sound of you causing him stress, your head snaps up and you start profusely apologizing. Which only concerns Jake more, you were usually always snapping back at his sarcasm, and given the way you’ve continued to mutter apologies at him, he knows that you’ve fallen in deep.

The quiet drive home didn’t sit well with him, it was unusually tense and not the peaceful silence that was always between the two of you.

No, this silence was heavy and made him feel like you were slowly slipping away. Forgoing grabbing his pack, Jake slips his hand in your own and tugs you up the walk. Unlocking the door with the keys, he had gotten from you back on base and ushers you into the kitchen. The continued silence worries him, Penny’s words ringing loud in his ear.

She didn’t talk for a week, then it was as if nothing happened.

He can't handle the thought of you going silent on him, of you in so much pain that speaking is too much work. You stand there so still and silent in the middle of the kitchen, completely numb and unmoving to the outside world.

“Sweets?” His soft voice and the brush of his hand against your cheek pulls you out of the daze. A soft hum falls from your lips in acknowledgment, though you say nothing else.

“Baby, what do you need? Please talk to me.”

You'd never heard Jake sound so desperate, like whatever you said to him would either make or break him.

“I … I –”

It doesn't surprise you when both of Jake's hands come to rest against your cheeks, tilting your head up so you're looking him directly in the eyes. He can see it in your eyes, the pain that you're swimming in, practically drowning.

“Darlin’ what do you need, ignore the thoughts, and the outside world. Baby, it's just us.”

Your eyes never falter as you stare at Jake, his presence automatically calmed you after the last eight months, and suddenly you don't care.

Your mind had been too much and all you wanted was Jake. You know it'll kill you tomorrow when you've got a clear mind, but in this moment you can't care. Because of the way you are spiraling, the hateful words and memories from your past we're consuming you, if you didn't stop it, it would only lead to disaster.

For the first time tonight, a small glint in your eye reappears. A small hope for Jake that you would be okay.

“I need you.”

And without a second thought for the repercussions, your arms wrap around Jake’s neck and pull his lips down to slot against your own. Eight months had been a long time, but his lips against yours felt just like you remembered. They fit perfectly against your own, though now slightly chapped, no doubt from the incessant way that he licked his lips when they started to dry.

And just as quick as it started, Jake was pulling away. His hands remained on your hips, keeping you close but far enough away that he could look you in the eyes. He almost feels like an asshole, when a flash of pain crosses your face, and you start pulling farther away from him.

“Nope, no. Darlin’ look at me, we're fixing this right now.”

The harsh tone of his voice makes you whimper, and Jake actively curses himself for using such a rough tone with you, but he needed your attention, he needed you to listen. One of his hands leaves your hips and comes to rest just under your chin, which had settled facing downward. Jake's thumb and forefinger gently nip at your chin before tilting it up, giving you no choice but to look at him.

“This is in no way how I wanted to go about this, but Penny told me some things darlin’ and I can't leave words left unsaid anymore. Not when you're in pain because of me.”

The only thoughts passing through your mind are, ‘this is it, this is the end…’ The pain of the thought is too much, and your lip starts to slightly tremble as you wait for Jake to make the final blow.

“Sweetheart, when I kissed you right before we left, it wasn't some quick decision. I kissed you because I couldn't take the risk of dying, and never knowing what we felt like.” The sharp intake of air you breathe has Jake worried and his own follows suit. If he hadn’t been clutching onto you for dear life, he was sure that he would’ve been pacing. His own anxiety trigging his hand to brush back through his hair, before settling. “And damn it, you felt like utter perfection against me, but then I realized how I'd broken a promise. A promise I made to never rush you into anything or throw my feelings at you, without you doing it first, and so, I left. Like a damn idiot, I left.”

The tremble of your lips only quickens, as your once slackened hands raise up to brush against Jake's cheeks, wiping away the stray tears that have fallen. He nuzzles into the palm of your hand only slightly, before placing a quick kiss on it.

“Sweets… I decided then, that if I died, it would be okay. Because at least for a moment, no matter how small it was, I had perfection.”

The statement makes your heart speed, the realization slowly setting in that the kiss wasn’t a fluke, and that Jake had meant it. That everything you felt wasn’t one-sided, and it should have been enough to stop you from the slew of harsh words racing through your mind. The fact that Jake liked you should have been able to pull you out of the darkness, but it hadn’t.

“You don’t want me, Jake.” The harsh gasp that leaves your chest turns into a failed laugh and Jake had never seen you so in doubt of yourself. “I’m so fucking broken, and I don’t know if I can be fixed.”

The palm that rests against your cheek flexes momentarily. Jake hated everything you just said, you had no right to tell him whether he wanted you or not.

“Darlin’ I will always want you.”

“You shouldn’t have to be with damaged goods, you’re worth more than that.”

You would have been scared if he was Adam because the noise that releases from Jake’s chest is full of anger and pain. The fire reignites in his eyes, and even if you wanted to look away you couldn’t. Not when his eyes watched you with such passion.

“Y/n Charlotte Benjamin, I don’t care if you have never listened to me or if you never listen to me again, but you will listen to me right now.” The authority in his voice has you reaching out to him, grasping his left hand in between your own and you give him a nod to continue. “You and Mathew are the best thing that has ever happened to me, over my career and my rank, against everything you are the best. Now, I don’t know everything that happened to you, and I will never make you tell me, but darlin’ I will spend the rest of my life making sure you realize your worth.” His words pause for a moment, caught in his throat as Jake tries to hold himself together. “Sweets, you might be broken, but mosaics are some of the most beautiful pieces of work.”

This time Jake doesn’t pull away when you kiss him. His arms wrap around your waist, grasping at your form in any way, and needing to pull you into him. To consume you whole, and never let go.

The kiss is slow and thought out, every move of the lips is like a dance between the two of you. The softness with which you started to kiss is completely forgotten, as your arms wrap around Jake’s neck and pull him in closer. With everything in your being, you hope that those words that you can’t say yet are passing through and that Jake understands.

Your fingers card through the hair at the base of his neck and tug, and your toes curl at the moan that Jake releases against your lips. A matching moan falls from you, when Jake nips at your bottom lip, before moving from your lips and kissing down your jawline.

Your head tips back in delight and your eyes roll closed, overwhelmed with Jake, but also needing more. The whine that leaves your lips as Jake pulls away is loud and causes Jake to smirk down at you. Causing the blush on your cheeks to deepen, and the warmth from your face slides down, burning into your skin like a wildfire consumes the brush.

Jake’s breath pants out against your lips, unsteady as he leans his forehead against your own. His hands rub up and down your arms, squeezing gently as they go, and his eyes watch you. Patiently waiting to see if you’ll pull away, or if you wanted this just as much as he did.

Jake finds no trace of doubt in your mind, you still weren’t his bubbly girl, that teased and poked at him, but you were here.

Here with him, and no longer pulling away.

“Darlin’ we need to get you in the shower,” His hand comes up to brush along your brow, before placing a kiss where his thumb had just been. “You go and relax, wash everything down the drain, and I’ll find a movie for after.”

The thought of a shower sounded like heaven, your skin had gotten slightly sticky after the cold sweat that broke out across your body, but you didn’t want to leave Jake right now. You couldn’t leave Jake right now; you were sure that your body and mind wouldn’t allow it.

“Want you.” The statement is so quiet and simple, but the way you look at Jake makes him easily complaint.

“I know sweets, but you need to wash up. I promise after you get out, that you can have me all you want.”

“No,” You’re stubborn and for a moment Jake expects you to stomp your foot, “I want you to come with me, don’t wanna be away from you.”

His eyes watch you, waiting for you to realize what you’re asking for, then to backtrack, but you don’t. Your eyes stay firmly on him, waiting for him to answer.

“Sweets, you want me to come in the shower with you?”

A nod against his chest is the only answer Jake gets before you pull him with you toward the bathroom. You couldn’t understand it, but deep within you, you need Jake next to you. Not just in the house, but his skin on yours, constantly touching.

It might have been needy of you and moving way too fast, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

Jake shuts the door behind both of you and reaches into the shower to turn it on. Your form stays stationed in the middle of the bathroom, and you watch his movements with a slight pout. You had never been the type that liked to be babied, but all you wanted was for Jake to take care of you. To focus all of his attention on you, and you, alone.

You follow his movements around the bathroom, the stretch of the white tee shirt against his back has a heat pooling in your core. One that most defiantly shouldn’t be there, not at a time like this, when you had been bawling for the past twelve hours. But the way in which Jake tied his flight suit around his waist and with his usually perfect hair is a mess, from Jake raking his hand through it, sets off a deep need within you.

“Sweets, you need to get naked if you’re getting in.” The glance over his shoulder stops the teasing tone in its tracks. Jake's words fail him, as he sees the look in your eyes. It’s the same one that you had when you got drunk and kissed him. He knew that look and lord, it was going to take all of his strength not to take you.

A groan falls from his lips, as you lift your arms and mutter out a ‘you’ to him. You stay still, waiting for him to come to you and comply with your demand. He walks towards you so slowly that you think you may burst, though when Jake’s hands find your hips, the hum you give him in return is enough of a go-ahead for him to pull the shirt from your body. His eyes never leave your own, though your chest slightly heaves in anticipation of being with Jake like this. So bare and exposed, in more ways than the literal sense.

Your hair is a mess upon your head, the strand falling around your face with the removal of your shirt. Jake's hand comes up to brush a few strands from your face before his palm finds home on your cheek again and his thumb creases over your lips.

It’s soft and delicate, he’s trying to be the perfect gentleman with you. Though it’s like you’ve lost complete control of your body, and even if you wanted to stop it, which you don’t, you couldn’t. As Jake smooths his thumb over your bottom lip for the last stroke, your lips slip open, and you take his thumb into your mouth. Your lips close around him, eyes fluttering closed, and suck.

“Fuck”

The curse is enough for your eyes to open, though you don’t release his thumb. As your eyes flutter up to meet his piercing green ones, you scrap your teeth gently over the pad of his thumb, then suck again to soothe it.

The grunt that echoes through the steamed bathroom makes your toes curl, and as you pull your mouth off Jake, the sweetest smile graces your face, your bottom lip bitten and yet so innocent.

“Hi.”

The straps of your bra slip from your shoulders, and while holding the front to you, you reach behind you to flick the band open. The sound has Jake’s eyes moving down momentarily before he corrects himself and stares into your eyes.

“Darlin’.”

The warning tone only makes you giggle, as you drop the bra to the ground, and take a step closer to Jake, tugging at his white shirt. “Maybe you should take the shower alone, Sweets.”

Jake's eyes settle on the wall just above your head, his hands no longer sit at your hips, but clenched in fists at his sides. The smile on your face instantly drops at his words, your hands move to cover your chest, and you instantly feel unwanted once again. You shake your head, appalled at your stupidity. You've clearly taken it too far when you didn't mean to, and you can feel yourself shrink back. Embarrassed about how you've just acted and wishing that you were just invisible.

“I'm really sorry, I just –” the words catch in your throat and make you feel even more pitiful. “I don't know what came over me. I just needed you…” you stutter slightly tripping over your words, and as Jake lifts your chin to look at him the tears fall.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Jake steps forward to pull you into his chest though before he can grab you, you're stepping back, and a flash of hurt crosses his face.

“I can't talk when you're holding me, you make me feel things and everything gets all discombobulated in my head.”

Jake only relaxes slightly, as he moves back to lean against the door and gives you as much space as possible. His brow furors and the lines on his forehead crease, a clear indication that his mind is running wild, just as fast as yours.

“I needed you… I need you. It’s this deep ache in my chest, one that I need you to fix, but I don’t know how. Things happened; he did things that are still burned into my skin, I can still feel him, and I hate it.”

If you hadn’t been so hyper-aware, you would have missed the way Jake stiffened. Not at your need for him, but when you mention Adam and what happened.

“Sweets, if I could erase everything that he did to you I would. You’ve no idea how bad I want to kill him–”

Jake cuts himself off before he can be consumed with rage and moves toward you again. This time you don’t move and welcome the hand that comes to brush against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut, as Jake wraps you in his arms and tucks you safely into his chest.

“I don’t know how to be loved, Jake.” Your voice is muffled into his shirt, but he still hears you.

“I know, Sweets.”

The hand tracing up and down your spine never falters, though the words aren’t what you want to hear.

“No Jake, I don’t know how.” You pull back from him so that he can see the desperation, and need in your eyes. “But I… I want to love you.”

“Okay, then let me take the pain. Please darlin’. Let me replace all of those bad memories and those feelings that are burned into your skin. Baby please, just let me erase the pain.”

“And tomorrow, we can talk about everything else.”

Without a second thought, your head nods, wanting nothing more than for Jake to encase you completely. You needed him to replace the pain and ghost of unwanted hands; to be the remedy to your broken shell.

The hand grasping at your back moves up, slowly tracing your bare skin and memorizing every dip and divot. As if it was the first time that Jake had ever touched you, had ever truly got to breathe you in. Your breath only picks up slightly, as your forehead rests against his chest, and quiet pants fall from your lips and into his chest. The both of your breaths sync in pace, as goose bumps line your skin.

Your once-dormant hands rise and grip onto Jake's white shirt. You twist the material in your hands, and it strains across Jake’s chest, the conscious part of your brain grasping at anything to ground yourself. Though the ghost of his lips over your neck, has a whimper leaving your lips as your head dips back and exposes your neck to Jake.

The drag of Jake’s nose against your neck has your toes curling. His breathing, is hot against your neck as he litters it with delicate kisses, pausing occasionally to place open-mouth kisses on your pulse point.

Though the kisses are sweet, the occasional nip of his teeth confirms that he is leaving marks along his path. Though you can’t find it in yourself to tell Jake to stop, even if it was against work policy, you would never stop Jake from marring your skin.

No, these ones you wanted. You craved the way in which they healed you.

Your need to touch Jake is no longer fulfilled by the soft cotton wrapped tightly around your hands. You tug up on the fabric, and Jake's tan skin peeks out as a tease, taunting you. Though Jake is quick to tug his shirt up and off when a whine falls from your lips.

Jake watches as your hands make contact with his stomach muscles, and a soft smile forms on your face as you trace the ridges. The sharp breath Jake sucks in when you trace along his pant line, causes you to giggle and trace along his v-line once more.

The light filling your eyes as you glance back up to Jake has his heart clenching. The steam of the shower surrounds you both and your hair is slightly damp, sticking to your face in places. It was too early, too fast, for Jake to utter that four-letter word to you, but he’d never been more sure than in that moment.

The smile creasing your face only widens, when Jake’s hands slip up to your cheeks. Cupping them and tugging you up slightly, as he dips to meet your lips in a passionate kiss. Only pulling back when you both have to gasp for breath, though neither of your gazes leaves the other.

The green of Jake’s eyes had never appeared so bright as they did now, resting against each other’s foreheads and inhaling the importance of each other’s presence. The kiss that Jake brushes against your brow, is more than enough to confirm that the feeling you share is real. That for once, you both are exposing yourselves completely and surrendering, only to be met with a returned passion, one that could no longer be hidden.

“My girl.”

The statement is muttered against your lips, as one of Jake's hands comes up to trace patterns along your cheek. Though you had heard Jake say it about you an endless number of times, this one wasn’t just a statement, but a defined claim over your mind, body, and soul.

“Yours, for as long as you want me.”

“Darlin’ I want you for eternity, and then some.”

…

You couldn’t remember how either of you got out of the rest of your clothes and into the shower, but the cascade of warm water against your back has you melting. Your hand remains intertwined in Jake's hair, gives a slight tug, and has Jake falling into the water with you. Your lips never separate, as you relinquish all control over to Jake, and the dip of his tongue into your mouth has your toes curling.

Jake’s hands slowly wander, no longer held by the confines of your clothing, and adamant about familiarizing himself with every part of you. The ghost of his fingertips sliding up between your thighs, has a gasp falling from your lips. The sound is devoured by Jake’s lips, as he grazes your heat, teasingly tracing and collecting your slick. Before he finds purchase on your clit and rolls the nub in gentle figure eights.

Your head falls back against the tile, disconnecting your lips as the pleasure consumes you, and you find a smirking Jake watching you. Words try and form on your lips, though the increase of speed, only has incoherent mumbles bubbling from your chest. Your body tenses against the wall, the extension of your toes has you rising, and Jake settles an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

You hadn’t been intimate with anyone since Adam, and as you watch Jake, you’re thankful that you finally coming apart is at his hands. The green of his eye’s never wavering from your own, as your breathing becomes erratic and the one hand around your waist rises to crease your cheek.

“I’ve got you, Sweets. Let go.”

You hadn’t realized you needed it, but the reassurance from Jake has you crashing into the waves. A gasp and partial cry leave your chest and has you grasping onto Jake. Your hands shake as you grasp onto his shoulders, the hand that had been between your legs wraps around you and tugs you fully into his chest.

Your tears mix with the water as it washes over the both of you, and Jake's hold tightens on you as he feels your chest shake against his own. You can’t get close enough to him, and as you nuzzle into Jake’s neck, he notices your slight whimpers. His hands slip from your waist and tap lightly at your butt, a silent request that you happily comply with.

Your arms wrap tightly around Jake's neck, as he holds you as if you weigh nothing, before turning the shower off. You pull back from the comfort of his neck and receive a sweet gentle kiss, your lips crease each other and work in slow tandem.

Pulling back from the kiss, you giggle slightly as Jake peppers kisses across your cheeks and nose. He only stops when a full laugh falls from your chest and you beg him to stop. The cheeky smirk that he gives you warms your heart, and you decide that it’s one of your favorite looks on Jake.

Jake easily removes you both from the shower, never faltering as he heads back into your room and delicately sets you on the bed. He moves to grab you a towel, though you don’t miss the fact that he is excruciatingly hard. The fact isn’t hidden well when Jake shows up with a towel now around his waist and wraps another around you.

Your hand creeps up to rest at the top of Jake's towel and give it a tug, as his form stands over you, while you kneel on your bed. A light chuckle bubbles from Jake, and his free hand comes to cup your cheek, lovingly tracing tiny patterns.

“We’ve got plenty of time for that, Sweets. Right now, I just want to hold my girl.”

You nuzzle into his hands and place a kiss in the palm, before glancing back up and only finding love in Jake’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

No reply is given to you, other than a soft kiss and Jake crawling into your bed, pulling you up with him to lay against his chest. His arms wrap around you, and the warmth of his body relaxes you, like an invisible shield of protection.

“Sleep darlin', I’m home.”

For the first time in eight months, you slept peacefully through the night; nightmares and memories evading you completely.

#jake seresin x you #better man universe #better man updates #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin angst #hangman x reader #hangman top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #top gun imagine

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vintagestarlight · 2 years

Text

Count on Me

Pairing: Soap x military gf!reader

Summary: soap gets in trouble defending you

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: fluff, angst, mild violence, strong language, brief mention of death, unwanted touching, sexual harassment(just to be safe)

A/n: another fic for one of our favorite 141 boys! Because of the warnings I highly suggest if any of this makes you uncomfortable please don't read it! That being said I hope whoever does read it enjoys it! As always reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated! :)

Soap never really thought about the future anymore. When you work a job like he does, it's counterproductive and sometimes even dangerous to think of a future. When Soap was a younger lad he always thought he'd have a lass and a bairn or two of his own but ever since joining the military he pushed it to the back of his mind. That was until he met you. Price and Laswell recruited you to help with a mission and you ended up earning a spot alongside the rest of the 141.

Soap had always been quite flirtatious by nature but you were different. While yes he did still flirt with you, he caught himself doing the one thing he tried so hard to avoid. He caught himself seeking you out during meals or wanting to spar with you during training. He caught himself staring at you during meetings or rec time. He caught himself thinking about a future with you; little lads(or lasses) running around getting under your feet. He caught himself falling in love. At first it terrified him realizing he loved you; loving people in his line of work put a target on their back. But seeing how badass you were but also one of the kindest people he knew, he couldn't help himself.

He found out you felt the same when you two were stuck in a safe house in no where Siberia. You were given dodgy intel and it ended with you being shot. Soap had never felt his heart sink so fast; he felt like it dropped to his feet. "Soap in case I don't make it out... I have to tell you something," you said, struggling to get the words out. You could feel the life leaving with every pump of blood; it was a strange sensation to feel yourself dying.

"Dinnae talk like tha' lass," he said, holding a cloth to the hole in your stomach. "You can tell me when we make it out of here,". Your hand grasped his and made him look at you. "I love you Soap," you said. "I tried really hard not too; I tried keeping it professional but...I love you," the words were harder to speak with each passing minute. For a moment Soap's heart felt like it was gonna burst but he still had to get you out alive. Soap had managed to stop the bleeding and a heli had come for exfil courtesy of Price. You ended up making a full recovery in the medical wing.

Ever since then you and Soap had agreed to keep your relationship a secret from the rest of the team. Midnight rendezvous in your rooms, sneaking glances and featherlight touches made Soap feel like a schoolboy again messing around with the popular girl. Of course Price had his suspicions right away; he always kept a close watch over his team and saw how you two treated each other after the mission in Siberia. He didn't say anything though because it didn't affect your performance. Ghost found out after Price when you and Soap were a little drunk after a night out and were a little too loud in the shower. After that you both agreed to be more careful.

It was because of this that men still hit on you. It was nothing new to be hit on especially in the military; you usually just brushed them off politely and then laugh when you saw Soap staring daggers at the poor man who hit on you. It usually ended with you not being able to walk; not that you minded in the slightest. But this time was different.

Because of Price's reluctant agreement a team had been brought in to assist with an extraction. During the whole mission the squad's lieutenant, Yates, had been making sexual comments about you; you were able to brush them off like you always do because this was nothing you hadn't heard before. Being a woman in the military you weren't a stranger to inappropriate comments from men. But you could tell it was bothering Soap.

The mission was a success; you were able to get your target out without it being a disaster. You were hanging around base with Soap, Gaz, and Ghost after you all got back. Price had retreated back to his office to work on paperwork and the squad that was brought in was with you three in the rec room. "So y/l/n what about you?" Yates asked. They had been talking about their weekend escapades with beautiful women while being especially crude. "Who here would you let do you?" He asked, a smirk on his face. "Excuse me?" You asked, hoping you heard him wrong.

You could feel Soap tense beside you, gripping the neck of his beer bottle so tightly you were surprised it didn't shatter. Ghost laid a hand on Soap's shoulder trying to keep him from doing anything stupid. "Who would you let do you?" The lieutenant repeated himself. "Or maybe you already let them," he said still with a nasty smirk. You finished the last of your beer before standing up. "I think I'm going to go finish my own paperwork," You said, bidding goodbye to your teammates. "Oh come on don't be a bitch just answer the question," He said standing up and blocking your path. "Move. Now." You said, flatly.

"Come on it's just a simple question," he said, stepping closer. "Do you let them take turns?" He asked. "Just tell me who leaves you the most sore afterward?" He grabbed your ass and pulled you against his chest. Before you could break his hand for touching you, Soap pushed between you two and punched the lieutenant across the face. "You son of a bitch!" Soap shouted. The two tumbled and fell with Soap on top. The rec hall erupted in shouts some from Gaz and Ghost and some from the other squad. Soap was able to get a few more punches in before Gaz and Ghost could pull him off "Johnny what the fuck?!" Ghost shouted.

Yates lied on the ground, holding his face. Blood poured from his broken nose and busted mouth. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Yates groaned. You stood there stunned and looked over at Soap who Ghost was still trying to calm down. "Go take a fucking walk Johnny," Ghost growled. Soap looked over at you and turned on his heel stalking off. "You're finished Sergeant you hear me? You're fucking finished!" Yates screamed at Soap's retreating back. "Shut the fuck up Yates," Ghost said, his voice a low growl as he looked at the injured lieutenant. The lieutenant got up and left, probably to find Price's office. You didn't know what to say so you turned to leave when Ghost grabbed your wrist. "He just risked his entire career to defend you. Give him some time to cool off but you need to talk to him," Ghost said, his voice the usual grumble. You nodded, glanced briefly at the blood on the floor, and left for your room.

Soap knocked on Price's door waiting for Price to tell him to come in. The door opened and Yates stepped out. His face purple and bruised, his nose still crooked with cotton stuffed in his nostrils to stop the bleeding. His mouth was swollen with dried blood caked on it. Soap felt a sick sort of satisfaction knowing he did that. Ghost followed Yates and gave him a reassuring nod. Yates just glared at him when Price called him in. "Take a seat," Price said from behind his desk.

Soap closed the door and made his way to one of the chairs facing Price's desk. "His captain is calling for your discharge," Price said. "He's not happy that his lieutenant has a busted face," he added. "You didn't hear what he said about her," Soap said, his fists clenching at the memory. "I know exactly what he said. Ghost told me," said Price. "The fact is you assaulted a superior officer. You're lucky you're not being court martialed," Price said, looking at Soap.

"Yates is a womanizing bastard. I'd do it again discharge or not," Soap said. "I know you would," Price couldn't help but chuckle. "Fortunately for you that won't be a problem. His captain is as much of a cunt as he is but we worked it out. You'll be suspended for six weeks," Price said. "And for what it's worth I would've done the same to the bloody bastard," Price added, before he dismissed Soap.

You figured Soap would've had enough time to have his talk with Price so you headed towards his room. You passed by the rec room to see Yates mopping his blood off the floor; you could already hear Price telling him to "clean his bloody floor". You made it to Soap's room and rapped on the door. "It's open," Soap said. You walked in and saw Soap lounging on his bed wearing one of those tight muscle shirts that drove you crazy.

"So? How bad is it?" You said, wetting a washcloth and coming to sit next to him. You grabbed his hands and started dabbing the warm cloth over his knuckles. "Six week suspension," he said, focusing on the feeling of you cleaning off his hands. "Really?" You asked surprised. "How'd you manage that?" You said, getting up to rinse of the washcloth. "Price vouched for me. Without him I could've gotten into some real trouble," he replied, looking at you clean off his other hand.

"You know I appreciate you doing that but you shouldn't have," you said, tossing the cloth into his hamper. "I couldn't let him say those things about you Bonnie," he said, looking at you. "It wasn't right," Soap added. "You could've lost your job Johnny. I would never want you to do that for me," you shook your head. Soap grabbed your hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. "I love you hen and I'll always defend you," he said. "I love you too Johnny," You said, giving him a kiss. Soap wanted to make sure you knew you could always count on him.

#soap mactavish x female reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish fluff #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #soap mactavish #modern warfare #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare ii

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topguncortez · 2 years

Note

Congrats on 3k!!

Can I get ❛ it was a nightmare, that’s all. ❜ with Rooster pls & ty!

pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw & Alex Seresin note: takes place during the time that Bradley had to babysit while Jake and Y/N have Ella warnings: nightmare, TopGun themes, cannon character death, birth Rooster Masterlist | Opposites Attract Masterlist Main Masterlist 3 fucking K celebration

Rooster had been taking care of Alex for a little over a day now. According to Jake, Y/N's labor was progressing slower than they thought. They both expected to be in and out of the hospital within hours, but Babygirl Seresin was proving that she was going to be quite the diva by taking her time.

Bradley didn't mind having Alex in his care, he actually liked having someone around. The house got lonely when it was just him by himself. Jake and Bradley had actually gotten pretty close post-Uranium Mission, and he had spent a couple weeks with the Seresins before they had to go back to Lemoore. Bradley was beyond happy when the Dagger Squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, and they moved back.

Currently, Alex was sleeping in Bradley's bed since he didn't have a guest room setup. Rooster guessed that if he was going to be the baby sitter for the Seresins, he should probably make his guest room into an actual bedroom and not just a large closet. Bradley was watching the football game silently on TV, his ears trained in case he heard the three year old get up.

A small whimper left Alex's lips as he tossed and turned about in the large bed. The blankets felt tight around his small body. The loud groans he had heard from his mother were replaying in his mind as he tried to shake them out. Images of Uncle Ice's funeral, the loud jets roaring over head and the tears of his aunt and uncles faces. The way his dad held him close to his chest. The grey color of headstones showed up in his vision. The dream was terrifying as Alex was screaming out for his parents, but they were taken farther and farther away from him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he sat up in bed and screamed for Rooster.

Bradley had been half asleep when he heard the loud cry. He sprang up from the couch and went sprinting down the hall. His heart broke at the sight of the little boy with tears streaming down his cheeks, and sobbing.

"Alex," Bradley said, and walked over to the bed. He grabbed the little boy in his arms and held him close to his chest. He remembered what his mother once did when he had nightmares, and swayed him gently, while rubbing his back.

"Rooster," Alex sobbed out and Bradley shushed the little boy.

"It's okay, buddy. It's all okay. It was a nightmare, that’s all. Nothing is gonna hurt you," Bradley said. He could feel Alex's heart pounding in his chest. He was shaking as if he were soaking wet.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Bradley asked him.

"M-my mommy and daddy were hurt," Alex sniffled, "I couldn't get to them. They left me behind. My daddy's head was bleeding."

Rooster closed his eyes. He could remember the nightmares he had after his father's death. He was the same as age as Alex when the accident had happened. Carole hadn't told him a whole lot of what happened, just that Goose tried to eject but hit his head really hard. That small amount of detail was enough for three year old Bradley's mind to go rampant. For almost a straight month, Bradley woke up screaming, seeing the image of his father's bloodied face behind his eyes.

"You know that's not real," Bradley said, "Your mommy and daddy are okay. Your daddy is alright. He is with your mommy having Ella."

"Do you miss your daddy, Uncle Rooster?" His voice was so small as he asked and Bradley felt his own throat start to close up.

"Of course I do," Bradley answered, truthfully. What he really wanted to say was 'every damn day' but he couldn't curse in front of a three year old. The ghost of Carole Bradshaw would come smack him upside the head.

"Do you think he misses you?"

"Yes I do," Bradley did wonder at one time in his life if Goose missed him. If Goose were to come back alive somehow, would he come and find Bradley. Would he hug him like he used to and kiss his cheek? Would he call him his 'little buddy' and take him out for ice cream? Would he even recognize his own son?

"Do you think he'd like me? Cause I think I'd like him."

Bradley smiled, "Of course he would. Everyone loves you," He tickled the boy, his giggles filling the room, "My dad would've made you laugh so hard your tummy hurt, and then take you out to get ice cream. My mom would tell him to not let us have ice cream for dinner, but we'd still do it anyway. He'd show you all you need to know about radios, and radars, and how to help Mav stay out of trouble. He'd teach you how to throw the perfect curve ball, he's a four time state Baseball champion. He said he would've played in college if he didn't fall so in love with my mom. He'd also teach you how to Hotwire a car at a really young age, which isn't something you need to know."

Bradley didn't realize while he was talking that Alex had slowly started to doze back to sleep, until he heard soft snores coming from the little boy's mouth. Bradley chuckled softly at the little boy, and then very carefully maneuvered him so he was sleeping back on the pillow. He tucked Alex into bed, and placed the teddy bear back under his arm. Bradley kissed the little boy's forehead and whispered a goodnight, before going back to the couch.

Bradley laid on the couch for a moment, staring up at the ceiling fan and thought about his parents. He wondered if they were watching him, and knew that he had patched things up with Maverick. He wondered if he knew that he had found a family to love and be a part of it.

That night, for the first time in a long time, Bradley Bradshaw had a good dream about his parents. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #Bradley Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw fan fic #Bradley Bradshaw fan fiction #Bradley Bradshaw imagine #rooster Bradshaw #Bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fan fic #rooster fan fiction #rooster imagine #opposites attract #rooster & Alex

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deliriousfangirl61 · 2 years

Text

Calla Lillies [Jake "Hangman" Seresin] Chapter I

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Hailey Dugan

Masterlist [~~~~]

18+

Series Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, smut (later on in the series), age gap? (like 6 years because I feel like Jake is around like 32/33, lemme me know if you disagree), cursing. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT 18+ content in later chapters.

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

Jake "Hangman" Seresin was finally settling into his new posting in North Carolina. He is back up in the air after his last mission and back to raising hell like always. Yet he can't help but miss The Dagger Squad and after watching Liv and Rooster tie the knot he is feeling just a tad bit lonely and longing for something more. Not that he would ever admit it though. However when he gets some new neighbors in the form of a stunning 26 year old plant-shop owner and a 7 year-old boy, Jake just might feel that tiny little whole in his chest filling. His new neighbor is kind yet fierce, and as she struggles to navigate the new realm of guardianship over her younger brother her next door neighbor is more help then she could have every imagined.

***Important!!! This chapter contains scenes of abandonment, alludes to child abuse and just is kind sad so be warned, and take care of yourselves!

My head is spinning, the handful of Advil I took earlier has done nothing to ease the pain. The plane once again jolts as it hits a batch of turbulence. I sigh softly.

God I hate flying.

I clutch my bag that is sitting in my lap harder. Thirty more minutes and then this god awful plane ride will be over.

Yeah just thirty minutes, easy peasy Hailey. You got this.

I'm going to have to do this again, maybe in a few days or maybe in a few weeks. The only difference is the next time I board a flight back home to North Carolina there will probably be a 7 year-old with me.

Holy fucking shit.

I have no doubts about this being the right thing to do. I never had anyone to step up and take care of me when my mom went off the rails. That is not something I want for my little brother, despite the facet that I didn't even know he existed until four days ago. No even despite that I know it's the right thing to do. However the gravity of the fact that I, may soon, be in charge of the care of a child is terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

Holy Crap.

I have a little brother. His name is Lucas, he's 7. He probably has no idea I exist, the same as I him before last week.

I really hope I am not making a mistake. What if he wants nothing to do with me. I wouldn't blame him.

I don't know how I would react if a stranger showed up when I was seven to take me to a different state. He's probably not old enough to realize how awful our mother is yet.

Remember Hailey, don't talk bad about her in front of him.

The pilot's voice cracks over the intercom and he gives the final warning that we will be starting our descent soon.

I glance out the window. The morning sun is just now starting to peak out over the horizon and it is illuminating and the vast bleak and dead Arizona greats me.

I never thought I would be back here. In fact when I left over a decade ago I swore I would never step foot in this state again, simply because it's the same state that my mother existed in. I never wanted to see her again after I left. Still don't.

Now I'm back.

And I'm back to take guardianship of a kid.

That I have never met, or knew existed.

Who would've thought.

Not me.

I sigh softly and turn away from the window. I focus on making sure my seatbelt is tight and secure. Something I've probably done twenty times now.

I really hate flying.

I'm thankful for this mostly empty flight. At least the only people who have really noticed my anxiousness are the flight attendants. They gave me reassuring smiles as they offered me beverages and gave me looks of pity when I downed my Advil.

They must think I'm a mess.

The plane touches down on the tarmac with two big hops that make my heart sink into my stomach. My knuckles turn white as I grip my bag.

God I don't want to be on this plane anymore.

When the plane pulls up to the gate I unclip my seatbelt and stand, slinging my purse over my shoulder and reach for my small duffel. I didn't bring all that much. The cps social worker had assured me that I probably wouldn't be here for more than a week. If so I'll find a laundry mat.

The air is hot and sticky, despite it being just past 7:00 am. I feel the heat wash over me as I step off the plane and into the gate.

Hello Arizona, I have really not missed you.

My phone is off airplane mode now and I send a message to Matthew. Telling him that I landed. He won't respond, but at least I'm trying. I shouldn't be, but I am. That stubbornness my own mother use to complain about is still deep inside me, even if I should probably just let it go.

I can't think about Matthew right now. No, I need to focus on getting to the courthouse. Erica Adler, the attorney who took Lucas's case said if I want to petition the court for guardianship I need to be at the courthouse by 8:30. It's 7:45, and I still need to hail a cab and change.

Thankfully, hailing a cab is easy.

He turns up the AC as I slide into the backseat. Thank goodness. If it's one thing I didn't miss about Arizona is the blistering heat that is already raging on despite the early morning.

I glance at the driver one time before slipping my court clothes out of my bag.

I wish I could say this is my first time getting dressed in the back seat of a car. I slip the skirt over the leggings before shedding those and shoving them into my bag. I pull the jacket on over my tank top, and pull my hair up into a clip.

The cab pulls in front of the court house at 8:17.

"Thank you."

I stumble slightly as I step out of the cab. Goodness I haven't worn heels in a while.

The sweltering heat seems overwhelming as I climb the stairs to the courthouse. I can't even tell if the sweating is from nerves or from the heat. Probably a mixture of both, if I'm being honest with myself.

A cop is leaving as I'm entering and he holds open the door for me. I don't miss the look he sends me. I probably look frazzled.

Breathe Hailey.

Your about to try to convince a judge that you are capable and mature enough to take guardianship over a child you have never met.

The blast of AC of the courthouse is a welcome feeling. The security guard gives me an odd look before asking for my bags.

"Business?"

"My name is Hailey Dugan, and I'm here for the Lucas Saunders case."

"Ms. Dugan!"

My head snaps to the side, past the metal detectors a pretty but tired looking women stands. She waves to me offering me a small smile.

"She's with me Dawson, we got court in 10 minutes please hurry her through."

Dawson the security guard nods, his demeanor changes and he offers me a kind smile as he motions me to step through the metal detector. Another security guard studies the screen for a few moments before giving me a nod and a thumbs up.

Eric smiles at me as I grab my bags. "It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Dugan." She extends her hand.

I shift my bags in my hand. "It's nice to mee you too" I say softly, I feel like if I talk any louder I'll stutter.

"We can hand those off to my while you go before the judge. You have a very good case, you have a very stable source of income, you have no criminal record, or any report of drug or alcohol abuse. Your own pass with Denise allows the judge to see that you understand the situation that Lucas is in. Honestly, your a blood relative, it is very unlikely that they will deny you to take over guardianship of Lucas. There's also the fact that you hopped on a plan at 3 am this morning to make this court hearing, which shows your dedication." Erica is rambling which I appreciate because the nerves are bubbling in my stomach.

"Ms. Dugan?"

My eyes snap up to meet hers. "Yes."

There's a soft smile on her lips. "I know this is a lot. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this."

"Yes." I don't hesitate and she nods.

She glances at her watch. "The previous court hearing seems to be dragging on a little longer than expected. Would you like to see him?"

I glance back at the security officer as if he'll get mad that she fibbed a little to usher me along. He is helping someone else now not concerned with me.

Erica is staring at me again, that soft pitiful smile.

"Am I allowed too?"

She nods. "Yes you are, you're his family too Ms. Dugan."

"Yes I would very much like too."

Erica nods, and she leads me down one of the many corridors in the courthouse. Her assistant grabs my bags from me, allowing me to slip out the folder of all the things Erica said might help my case. My heels clack loudly on the floors.

I should have worn flats.

Erica stops in front a large oak door.

Break Room.

She looks back at me once before pushing the door open. A man greets us first, gives us one nod before stepping out of the way.

A cartoon is playing on the old box TV. Except I couldn't care less about the loud TV. Sitting at the large table with a bag of chips and a soda is a dirty blonde curly haired boy. Big blue eyes are trained on the TV as he absentmindedly shoves a few chips into his mouth. My eyes fall to the dark blue cast on his right hand. A small cut that is scabbed over fall beneath the mop of curls on his forehead. My heart drops, and a lump forms in my throat.

God Denise look at what you've done.

"Lucas."

The boys head turns slowly his eyes turn from Erica to me.

"This is Hailey, do you remember us telling you about her?"

He nods softly, those big blue eyes are taking me in.

"Hi Lucas, it's really nice to meet you. Do you mind if I sit."

He shakes his head before turning his head to look down at the table.

I pull out the chair that is next to him and slowly lower myself down. He's nervous. Lucas fiddles with a string that is caught on his cast.

I sigh softly.

"Have they explained why I am here Lucas?"

Lucas nods his head.

"I know this must be really hard for you Lucas, I know you probably don't want to leave mom..."

"She's gonna be real mad if I leave." Lucas cuts me off and my heart aches at his statement.

He's too young to be like this. Too little.

"Do you want to leave Lucas, it's okay if you do, you know. I left too, a long time ago. It doesn't mean you don't love her." I say softly.

Lucas looks up at me, those big blue eyes look so sad and it's breaking my heart.

"I don't really wanna stay, mom's gonna be angry though. She always tells me it's just her and me and that she's all I got." Lucas mutters almost so softly I don't hear him.

"You don't need to worry about mom, I will take care of that." I promise, and it's true he won't need to worry about that anymore.

I just met him, but I have no doubt that I want to protect him from everything now. Even our own mom.

"I always wanted a sister." Lucas admits breaking the silence that fell over us.

I think I already love this kid.

"Oh yeah?" I grin softly.

He nods.

"Well I've always wanted a brother."

Lucas smiles at that. "So I'm gonna go live with you?"

I glance at Erica, unsure of how I'm supposed to approach the question.

"That's the hope Lucas, we have to go talk to the judge first."

Lucas nods.

"Is that okay with you?" I ask.

Lucas thinks for a moment. "Can you cook?"

I laugh softly at the random question. "Yes I can."

"Okay."

Lucas turns away and back towards the television. Whether he was saying it was okay that he may have to live with me or acknowledging my statement, I have no clue.

"We should go." Erica says tapping me on the shoulder.

"Alright." I nod before turning back to Lucas, he is already staring at me. "I'll be back."

"Promise?" Lucas sticks out his right hand, poking out his pinky.

My heart squeezes. "Promise." I whisper entertwining our fingers.

Erica leads me out of the room, and I can't help but clutch the folder in my hands tired

8 minutes.

That is all it took for me to become attached to that little boy. This morning I was questioning if I was insane for thinking if I could take care of a kid, and now, I don't know if I can leave Arizona without him.

Erica has kept it brief when we first talked about what had happened. I just know the basics. Denise was drunk and she was supposed to be taking Lucas to the pool. She blew through a stop light.

Some things never change.

"Are you ready? If you'd like we can go over what you're going to say to the judge." Erica asks me.

I shake my head. "I'm alright, I'm ready."

Erica nods and I see something flash in her eyes as she looks at me.

Admiration? Pity?

Who knows.

She leads me to a large court room, and she tells me to take a seat at the front row before going through to the large desk directly in front of me. When the time comes she will announce to the judge that a blood relative has been found who is willing to take guardianship over Lucas. At that moment I will be able to address the court.

Just breathe Hailey.

I smooth down the wrinkles in my skirt.

Just breathe.

Another lawyer walks in and he gives Erica a curt nod before looking at me. Goosebumps form on the back of my neck. Erica tenses slightly, but she still tries to send an encouraging smile my way. After a moment she leans over the railing to speak to me.

"It's Denise's lawyer, he might be petitioning for Lucas to return to your mothers care but that is highly unlikely. I knew this might happen just stay calm." She tells me quietly.

I nod leaning back in my seat.

Stay calm. Breathe.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Samuel Wilkins." A bailiff booms and I scramble to my feet.

Here we go.

After a moment we are allowed to sit and I sink back into the bench. My stomach is in knots.

"First on the docket, placement of Lucas Saunders. If no one steps forward the child will be put into the system permanently."

No, no, no that can't happen.

"Good morning judge, I am Erica Adler attorney appointed by the state and with working with CPS and family services we have found a blood relative that is willing to take responsibility for the care of the child." Erica's voice is even confident.

"Is the relative here?"

"Yes judge."

Erica turns and gestures for me to stand, as I push myself my feet Denise's lawyers speaks up.

"Judge, my name is Henry Faltin and I am representing Denise Saunders. She is petitioning the court for her son to return to her care."

She has to be kidding. She get's drunk off her ass and blows through her stop sign injuring her kid and has the nerve to just ask for him back like nothing happened?

Anger bubbles in my chest.

Just breathe.

"With all do respect Counselor, it has only been five days since Ms. Saunders incident that put Lucas in the care of the state. It is premature to ask that he be put back into her care." Erica rebuts and I can hear the annoyance in her voice.

Judge Wilkins peers over his glasses at us. "I am inclined at this moment to agree with Mrs. Adler counselor. Ms. Saunders needs help, and at this time we are unaware of the standing of the DUI charges brought against her. At this time I will not be allowing arguments for the child to be returned to his mother out of concern for the child." His tone is firm, unarguable.

Attorney Faltin nods but I can see his Adams apple bob. He is angry, or annoyed. He glances back at me, his eyes narrowing just slightly. I stare back, I won't waver.

She doesn't deserve to have him back so easily... or at all.

Breathe.

"Mrs. Adler please continue."

Erica nods and turns back to me.

"Permission to have Ms. Dugan approach my bench Judge?"

"Granted."

A court officer opens the gate for me and I walk to stand next to Erica who gives me an encouraging nod.

"I present Mrs. Hailey Dugan Judge, the child's half sister."

"Ms. Saunders is also your biological mother?" Judge Wilkins glances up from the file in his hands.

"Yes Judge."

He nods glancing back down at his file.

"I see one other child listed under Denise Saunders, the name is not Hailey Dugan though."

"Yes Judge, I changed my name when I was 18, it's..."

"I see it, I can understand the want to change it Ms. Dugan." There's a ghost of a smile on his lips.

My lips twitch upward.

"So you are willing to expect guardianship over Lucas Saunders, is that correct?" He allows the fills in his hands to fall closed and his hands move to clasp together in front of him.

"Yes Judge."

"What makes you suited to take guardianship over a child Ms. Dugan?"

His tone is calm and soft, despite the derogatory words I know he doesn't mean them like that. He wants me to prove I am responsible.

I take a deep breathe.

"I know this case seems odd judge. Before today I have never met my little brother, but I understand him in ways a lot of people couldn't. I ran away from my biological mother Denise Saunders when I was 15. Before that I was removed temporarily twice. After I ran away I ended up in the foster system in multiple states. Without meaning any disrespect Judge, the foster system is not something I want for Lucas. I have the means to care for him financially, I own my own business that provides a very steady source of income. I am in the market of a house already instead of a rental property so soon I will have the space a growing child needs. I have also compiled my financial and other documents here for you." I hold up the folder in my head and the Judge order the court officer to bring it to him.

He begins to rifle through it. "Judge I boarded a plane at 3 am this morning after Ms. Adler informed me of the pushes up court date. I have no doubts about my dedication to give Lucas what he needs. I understand exactly what he is going through. Mrs. Adler has also advised that if I do take guardianship over him that counseling is recommended. I've research child therapist in my area, you'll find their profiles in the folder as well."

My heart is pounding in my chest.

"This guardianship could turn permanent, or Mrs. Saunders could petition the court to regain custody. Are those things you are prepared for Ms. Dugan."

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Yes judge."

He looks back down at the folder I gave him.

"You've compiled quite the documentation Ms. Dugan. I see the dedication."

My heart is going to pound out of my chest. I'm afraid if I look down I will find it actually pounded out of my chest and onto the table.

Breathe Hailey.

"Ms. Dugan, it is very rare that family members in cases like this take the amount of care and preparation for these circumstances. I am finding a deep admiration for what you have done and said today. You have also provided plenty of evidence that you will be able to support Lucas not just emotionally but materially and financially. With that being said I will allow Ms. Hailey Dugan to take custody and guardianship of Lucas Saunders."

His gavel pounds down. Erica is patting me on the back. Attorney Faltin is standing again, scrambling to get a word in.

"Judge! Ms. Dugan lives in North Carolina, surely the court cannot allow the child to be relocated so far from his mother."

"I saw Ms. Dugan's address of living Mr. Faltin. At this point in time I believe this ruling is in the best interest of the child. Should Ms. Saunders be found of no ill-doing involving the incident, the custody of the child can be revisited. For now he will be relocating with Ms. Dugan in North Carolina."

Judge Wilkins turns his attention to me. "Good luck Ms. Dugan." He gavels once more. "Next docket."

Erica is turning me in the direction of the side exit. I nearly freeze as I glance out into the gallery. Erica is still guiding me, but through the faces of strangers, in the back corner of the court room, glaring at me, is no other than Denise. My mom. Her icy eyes follow me and I am unable to look away.

11 years, that's how long it's been. That icy stare use to make me want to run and hide under my bed. Now I just feel angry.

You don't get to hurt him anymore.

I want to scream it at her.

But I can't.

instead I turn my head staring at the exit. She doesn't get a reaction. Not anymore.

Erica is staring at me a happy smile on her face.

"What now?" I ask a little breathless.

"There's some documents we will need to sign and get notarized. Luckily we are in a courthouse." She grins.

"What about Denise?"

Erica's smile drops. "I expect their will be petitions for phone calls and visitation, but until her DUI get's resolved there's nothing much they can do."

"She was drunk driving can they really dispute that."

Erica sighs. "Sadly yes, there are lawyers who excel in DUI argumentation and debate. Sadly Faltin is one of them. However her having a minor in the car is going to complicate it. Truly we won't know what's gonna happen. But for now you and I are gonna get the legal documents sorted and we are gonna prepare for you to take Lucas home."

I nod.

We begin walking down the corridor.

"Erica?"

"Yes."

"Judge Wilkins said it could be temporary."

"He's right."

"What if I don't want it to be temporary?"

"I suggest when you get home to North Carolina you get yourself a lawyer. If Denise is found guilty adopting Lucas will be easy. If not well..." Erica trails off.

I understand.

Erica continues down the corridor and I let the silence fall over us.

Wow.

15 minutes.

That's about how long we were actually in that courtroom.

15 minutes.

That's all it took to change my life forever.

It's worth it, I knew it was worth it from the second I laid eyes on that blue-eyed boy. Lucas is worth it. He doesn't deserve the hurt, pain and anger Denise leaves in her wake. He doesn't deserve those beautiful blue eyes to be drowning in waves of sadness.

I don't care if Matthew leaves me, or if I just changed my life forever. Lucas deserves to be a happy and carefree kid. It's not right that it was taken away from him already with the crash and our mother's inability to just do what's right for her kids.

It makes me angry that Lucas is going through this. He doesn't deserve it. I didn't deserve it.

Breathe Hailey.

Alright you did it Hailey. You now are the guardian of a seven year old, what's your plan?

Oh boy, there's no plan is there?

[~~] I KNOW GUYS AND IM SORRY!! I guess it's just gonna be a trend that the first chapters of my fics are a bit sad. So sorry about that!

BUT! On the Brightside! Calla Lilies Chapter I is up!

Are you guys excited.

I'm excited.

A few notes: As you may have noticed Hailey has a lot of internal dialogue. I will use that a lot in this fic, so I hope you guys like it.

Also I will be making a taglist so just comment below on my fics and I will put you guys on it!

I hope you guys enjoyed it.

[~~~~] Next Chapter- Coming Soon

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forsty · 2 years

Note

shane and ryan au for bradley and jake. thoughts?

oh yes 100% (wouldn't call it "shane and ryan" au beacuse they are real people and that sounds kinda odd to me BUT the whole ghostfiles concept YES YES YES)

also jake is terrified of ghosts (regardless if au or not) no you can't change my mind

i love entertaining the idea that the whole dagger squad end up ghost hunting

-hides away all my ghost story fic ideas-

#ask #i just think it's FUN #like either ghost hunting the way Ghostfiles does OR like in Supernatural where they actually fight the ghosts lol #both are fun #both are nice

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boasamishipper · 2 years

Note

Please we need more of coyote and hangman and their son 😭

i am planning on writing a whole fic about hangman, coyote, and jack (and their feelings about jack's relationship with nickie), but i hope this will tide you over until then:

growing up, hangman always figured he'd get married and have kids someday (likely with a girl from another old money family; not that either of them would have much of a choice in the matter). it wasn't until he fell in love with coyote that he finally understood people could get married for love and not money or sex or political convenience - and it wasn't until he got roped into playing with nickie bradshaw (phoenix and rooster's daughter) or holding felix avalone (fritz and halo's son) at dagger squad reunions that he started to think having kids was something that he actually wanted too.

coyote always pictured himself having a big family, but once he married hangman - who he Knows had a terrible childhood and was just thought of as something to flaunt (at best) by his parents - and both of their careers took off (and kept them apart more often than not), he kind of figured that having kids was firmly behind him. which was fine by him!! mostly. he was happy with the life he had, and wasn't going to complain about the what-could-have-beens. then a couple years after both of them shift full-time to administrative work (likely when they're in their very early forties), hangman Very Casually brings up that he wouldn't Hate having kids (if that's something coyote would also be open to), and coyote Very Casually bluescreens about it.

they have several very long talks about the idea, establishing that yes, they both want kids, they're both ready to be parents, and they decide to become foster parents. and then coyote and hangman meet jack, and the rest, as they say, is history.

jack is six when coyote and hangman start fostering him, and seven and a half when he is finally, formally adopted. he's very quiet at first, keeping to himself, flinching at loud noises and avoiding eye contact. it takes him a long time to learn that this is for real, that hangman and coyote actually want him and want to get to know him, that he doesn't have to steal and hide his own toothbrush anymore and steal food from the pantry in the middle of the night and hide it in his dresser, just in case. (when coyote and hangman find out some of the things their son experienced in his other foster homes, they both come the closest they have ever gotten to committing murder. coyote especially.)

hangman is absolutely terrified of messing jack up the way his own father messed him (and his older brother) up, and does his utmost to be very careful and polite with jack, never raising his voice or teasing him, keeping his distance. as a result - though it's not hangman's intention - jack grows closest to coyote first: seeking coyote out when he's scared, telling him about his day, hanging around him like a shadow in the kitchen and the living room. hangman does not begrudge coyote this - of course jack likes him best, everybody likes him - but that doesn't stop him from being hurt that no matter what he tries, his son doesn't seem to like him.

you need to stop being so afraid of him, coyote tells him one night in bed, and hangman inwardly scoffs until coyote clarifies. you need to stop being so afraid of messing up. you're going to mess up with him. i am too. it's inevitable.

very optimistic, coyote, thank you, hangman says into his pillow, and coyote sighs.

all i'm saying is no parent is perfect. coyote's voice softens. you gotta relax around him, baby. he's not gonna open up until you do.

hangman tries. all these years together and he still has trouble being open and relaxed around coyote - part of him still convinced that this isn't real, that he'll wake up one day with everything he'd gained gone - but for his son, for their son, he tries. and slowly but surely, jack opens up around him too. the tipping point comes when hangman is called to jack's school (usually it's coyote, but coyote is away for the week for a conference) when jack allegedly gets into a fight with another student. luckily for jack - definitely unluckily for the teacher, whose kid was the other participant in the fight - hangman pretty much kills the kid's weak argument that jack was the one who started the fight with a smile, and verbally eviscerates the teacher for not interfering when jack was being bullied, telling the principal that he wants jack transferred to another classroom. it also comes up during this showdown that the teacher told jack his natural hair isn't appropriate for the classroom; the teacher immediately tries to backtrack. hangman stares her down, smiling, smiling, smiling. are you calling my son a liar? by the end of this conversation, the teacher wishes she were dead, the kid receives two days of in-school suspension, and jack gets transferred to a different classroom. hangman takes jack out for ice cream afterwards. after dinner, jack brings all his toys to the living room and lets hangman play with him. hangman Absolutely Does Not Cry.

after the adoption goes through, jack asks coyote and hangman what he should call them, 'cause i can't call you javy and jake if you're my dads now and all. coyote says that's up to him. eventually jack decides that coyote is 'dad' and hangman is 'papa', and starts calling them that without thinking twice about it. coyote actually does cry the first time jack calls him 'dad'. if jack hadn't called hangman 'pop' in the sentence right before, hangman probably would have teased him about it. as it stands, he's too busy Absolutely Definitely Not Crying to do so.

things jack machado likes, including but not limited to: toy cars, the color blue, planes, playing soccer and basketball, pasta shaped like wheels, ice cream sandwiches, chapter books, the fuzzy pajama pants he got for christmas, and the teddy bear the bradshaws got him for his eighth birthday.

things jack machado does not like, including but not limited to: thunderstorms, sleeping without a night light, squirrels, orange-flavored anything, pizza with too many vegetables, and math of any kind. it turns out jack has dyscalculia, and hangman takes it upon himself to help jack with his math homework, to look up math games and coping strategies that can help him. sometimes both of them get frustrated and tears and yelling ensue - at which point coyote intervenes and makes them take a break - but for the most part, it's an arrangement that works all the way through elementary and middle school (and in high school before big tests).

to everyone's surprise, coyote turns out to be more of a PTA Dad™️ than hangman - at least when it comes to fundraising and the like. hangman can and will brag about his son constantly. (especially to rooster.)

jack calls rooster for advice on how to talk to girls when he gets his first crush. coyote and hangman, both of whom have dated women in the past, are somewhat offended that they were not the first ones asked. hangman especially so. (hangman gets his 'revenge' when nickie calls them asking for advice on how to talk to boys when she gets her first crush. technically nickie asks coyote for advice, but hangman is married to coyote, so he counts that as a win.)

when nickie (going by robin at this point, her nickname from hangman) is seventeen, her boyfriend dumps her two days before junior prom. jack, after getting permission from hangman and coyote (and phoenix and rooster), flies across the country so he can take her to prom instead. jack and robin start dating not long afterwards. somehow, even after years of their kids dancing around each other, rooster and hangman manage not to see this - or robin and jack's eventual marriage - coming.

#thanks for asking!#macheresin #hangman x coyote #hangman seresin #coyote machado #jack machado #nickie bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #phoenix trace #phoenix x rooster #fic: i don’t know what you’ve been told #ask me about bradley's feelings on fatherhood i am Willing To Spill #he's a very good dad to robin #(and mav is an excellent grandfather)#anyway i love hangman and coyote and jack So Much

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 23 - So Far From Who I Was

Masterlist; Chapter 22

Summary: As plans for operation in Stalsk-12 are underway, you and Neil can’t seem to find a common ground. His selfish plans overturn everything...

Warnings: Even more angst (sorry!!! swear it will be over very soon); swearing; some slightly dubious thoughts appearing in the reader’s minds but it’s nothing too serious.

Author’s Notes: Okay, I’m really sorry for the 10.8k, but it once again shows that I’m incapable of writing short things. This one is a wild ride and it was fun to write even if painful at times... I hope you’ll ‘enjoy’! Let me know how you liked it... and I promise... fun is near :)))

From that morning, when the precious intel magically appeared for you all to use, the metaphorical dice were cast. The last stage of the plan was officially on, and there was not much time to waste. After two days of chaotic talks, interrupted by training and trying to make sense of living aboard the icebreaker, you were told to meet with everyone else on the bridge for the official confab. Your war council consisted of TP, Neil, Ives, Wheeler, and yourself. And you were the first to admit that you had no clue what your job was supposed to be there. However, ignoring the deepening sleep deprivation, pounding headache, and weariness that has made home in your heart, you made it to the destination with time to spare. That morning the sky over the Barents Sea was overcast with heavy, grey clouds, increasing your internal melancholia and tiredness. Basically, life was hard. And you still contemplated joining the seals. Probably more often than any sane person should. But then you never really considered yourself rational. Sighing, for the umpteenth time this morning, you sat down on the sofa and relished in the solitude. In moments like this, without the oxygen mask making you feel close to suffocation, or the looming danger of losing your control around certain individuals, you were almost at peace. They never lasted long.

“Morning sunshine,” Ives marched into the room with a grin on his face.

He was one of the people you could tolerate. Still.

“Hi,” you cracked a smile of your own in his direction.

He took off the mask and opened up the laptop, preparing for the meeting. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Ives groaned, stretching his limbs exaggeratedly.

“The bloody bunkbeds are a pain in the arse,” you snickered at the comment.

“My condolences,” offering him a mournful expression, you stood up.

Wandering over to the panoramic windows, you took a moment to stare at a seagull diving on the horizon. Well, technically it was springing up from the sea, but you preferred to imagine the traditional way of things. Just to maintain a functioning brain.

“Not everyone is lucky enough to have a Prince Charming looking out for their comfort you know” the casual remark made you look up at Ives.

Sure as hell, he was grinning smugly, satisfied by how he has managed to catch you off guard. But that was not the most outraging bit…

“Prince Charming?” you repeated with a deepening frown, “Spare me please, I’d rather forget he exists” conversation was ruined.

Prince Charming, my ass. Unless those tended to be lying bastards that never knew what they wanted. Or terrifyingly beautiful idiots that should never be trusted. Well… fuck.

“Good luck with that” Ives patted you on the shoulder.

You knew that despite the nonchalance, he was someone you could count on. For a second, you contemplated asking him to punch Neil next time he shows up. However, all train of thought disappeared when the man himself walked into the room the very next minute. That same neutral smile on his face, blocking off any attempts to read his mood. His gaze slipped over you. A shadow of a frown as though your presence was not a pleasant discovery. Just brilliant.

“Good morning” Neil nodded in your direction.

You could see Ives hesitate as though wondering how much could have been overheard. You found that you did not care. Ever since your blunder in the kitchen, you came to a decision that you need not hold back. Neil never did, after all.

“Morning mate” Ives squeezed his shoulder in a greeting.

Before either of you were forced to initiate small talk, TP marched in, with Wheeler following at his heels. With the whole team on board, you could skip the awkwardness and begin. You took your seat on the side of the table and placed the dossier with plans right in front. That way, you could have an easy escape should it be needed. These days you could never know for sure. The first surprise of the meeting took place when you heard a scrape of the chair on your side, followed by someone sitting down. One look was needed to ascertain that it was the blonde bastard. Fab. You refused to give him any satisfaction of being caught staring and so you focused on the documents, reading the same set of instructions for the hundredth time.

“Do you want coffee?” his question took you by surprise.

Looking up into his blue eyes always felt too startling. Especially considering your history. But that did not seem to matter whenever your gazes met. That same jolt of electricity heightening your senses. Until you would look away again, Neil was everything you could focus on. On the periphery of your attention, you could see Wheeler prepare cups of the beverage in the small kitchenette. Right…

“Yes, please,” perplexed by his helpfulness, you gave him the tiniest of smiles.

In response, Neil only nodded and got up, joining Wheeler at the counter. That was surprising. Somehow you assumed that he would do everything not to interact with you like that. And yet he was willing to get you coffee, knowing full well how dependent on it you were. When Neil sat down again five minutes later and handed you the mug, you muttered:

“Thanks” your hands brushed for a millisecond, causing a minor heart palpitation.

Nothing new. He met your gaze again, smiling lightly. It was in the moments like this that you felt completely at a loss for words. The tenderness and attention felt like the old days, as though nothing happened. But it did. And it made no sense.

“Hope I got it right” breaking the silence, Neil gestured towards the coffee steaming underneath your nose.

He used to know your coffee order well. Unable to deny yourself the curiosity, you took a sip of the beverage under his watchful gaze. Of course, it was perfect, a spark igniting your body with energy. Ignoring the idiocy of the situation, you grinned at Neil over the brim of the mug. Conveying gratitude more than any words could. Judging by the glimmer in his eyes, he understood.

“Attention, please,” Ives’s annoyed voice brought you back to reality “You’ll flirt later,” you blushed furiously at the comment.

Shooting daggers at the squad leader, you focused all of the attention on the dossier again. Yeah…no.

The next hour was spent trying to make sense of the plans you all had been weaving since the intel came. The obvious parts were the facts: a deserted city in the middle of the Siberian steppe, the dead-drop in the cavern underneath the ridge, three ways in, and a lock, that was the crux of it all. The instructions from TP were ominous enough: no guaranteed way out for whoever would open the door. And that fact was the needed spark that day…

“So, temporal pincer” Ives summarized the last few minutes of the discussion, writing the words on the whiteboard “One team normal, the other inverted and they deal with the mercs. A splinter unit goes into the dead-drop and extracts the algorithm before the timer goes off” he added.

That was the obvious bit. You finished the coffee in one swig, feeling Neil’s knee bump into yours under the table. It was like this for the past hour. Sudden touches, making you wonder whether it was all intentional. Another form of elaborate torture. Or whether it was just Neil unable to control his long limbs as per usual.

“Kat is the backstop?” you asked the question, distracting yourself from the mess in your head.

“Yep,” jotting down the note, listening in to the squad leader, “That’s the simple stuff. What we need to figure out is how do we deal with that lock, and what about the splinter unit”

Fun. You skipped through the information again, hoping to find any source of inspiration in the materials.

“What do you mean?” TP asked, and you glanced up at him.

With the arms folded on the table and face frozen in a permanent frown, you could feel the tension radiating from him.

“They shouldn’t leave the field” Ives shrugged upon an inquisitive glare from the boss “It’s safer that way” the cold steel look in his eyes was foreign.

It was a terrifying realization that he was right. If you were to succeed, you had to make sure that it could not happen again. At least not in the linear sense. Looking around the people sat at the table, your heart sank. It could as well be that you were not coming out of this alive. Not all of you. TP had to survive if the story was to follow as it should. But for the rest of you, nothing was guaranteed. Enough to make the anxiety worse.

“Right,” TP’s sombre nod made you focus back on the moment “I don’t think we need to decide on who that will be this early,” he added, his gaze slipping over all of your faces.

Looking at the companions, you could see that everyone else was deep in thought. Mortality was never something you paid much attention to, preferring to stay sane by taking every day as it is and then moving onto the next. When you finished the university and started getting used to the idea that your future will be spent behind the desk of one of the governmental buildings in Whitehall, you stopped giving it much thought. Death would come when it had to, and that was it. But apparently not. Perks of choosing an unusual occupation. Feeling the stress levels elevate, you got hold of the passing thought. The damned lock that has been at the forefront of your mind since the news first came. Maybe now was time to voice the vague plans…

“When it comes to the lock… I’ve been thinking-”

“It’s rather obvious, isn’t it?” Neil’s interruption made you look up at him sharply.

What? You did not like the enigmatic smile gracing his features. As though you have missed something glaringly self-evident, and he was waiting for you to catch up. Impatiently, at that.

“Neil… elaborate please,” TP’s plea was dripping with tiredness.

Relatable.

“I’m the best locksmith out there” he shrugged smugly, ignoring your stare.

You did not like where this was going. Before you could find any words of response, Ives’s dry chuckle pierced the silence.

“Smooth, mate,” he added when Neil turned to stare at him.

“It should be me,” the blonde man pressed, annoyance seeping into his words, “Ives, you know that. Stop looking at me like that” he waved his hand at the squad leader.

The pieces clicked in your head. Fuck. He sounded too sure. As though he has already made up his mind. But…

“The person who opens the lock doesn’t have a guaranteed way out” Wheeler looked weary, as though she was scared about the direction of the conversation.

Exactly. The heart was hammering in your chest, slowly absorbing the reality. Figuring out the implications. No. You could not allow that. Even the mere idea was enough to make you nauseous. It was one thing to wish you did not have to deal with Neil, the other to consider that he would volunteer for something like that.

“So?” the nonchalance in his voice was terrifying.

He was still refusing to meet your gaze, but you persistently kept your eyes fixed on him. Urging him to give in. To be able to check this was actually happening. Because once Neil would lock his eyes with yours, you had a chance of getting to him. Until he said it to your face, you did not want to believe it.

“That could be a one-way trip,” TP voiced your thoughts, eyeing Neil warily.

You could see that he was surprised and concerned. Ever since they were stuck in the container for a week, a comradery has formed. Finally resembling what you were used to from them. But now Neil was willing to destroy it all. One-way trip. The ultimate sacrifice. No.

“Evidently,” another shrug.

That was the needed signal for your brain to kick back into action. To fight. Point out the insanity of the situation.

“Surely there’s a different way of dealing with this. We could send the locksmith before the splinter unit and-” your rant got interrupted with a sudden creak of chair to your right. Impatience.

“Why complicate something simple? I go in and open the door. That’s it” Neil flayed his hands around as though compensating for the tension permeating the room.

Wishing to dissolve it by fake excitement. Not on your watch. Urging your body to stop trembling, you garnered the strength to voice the obvious question. The one everyone seemed to skirt around for the past ten minutes.

“You don’t want to come back?” your voice wavered, betraying the nerves.

That was exactly what Neil needed to finally look you in the eye. With reluctance, he turned to you. When your gazes met, he flinched. Barely perceptible and yet there. Great.

“This isn’t about what I want or don’t want” you could tell Neil was just about keeping himself cool.

This could go either way. You found yourself on the tipping point, tiptoeing the edge. The fall never seemed so inviting. Almost as good as letting yourself drown in his eyes. Anything to ignore the reality.

“As if you knew what you want,” you muttered, aware he will catch on to the implications.

Neil clenched his jaw as his hand gripping the mug tightened. You have hit the mark. Top job. It took him a moment to respond. You could feel the gazes of everyone else fixed on you two. Their breaths were held as though afraid anything could set off the explosion. They were probably right.

“…Maybe you haven’t gotten the memo yet, but this isn’t about us anymore. If the task requires sacrifice, then be it” Neil finished the sentence with a hard look in his eyes.

Us? The emphasis he placed on the word made you blink in shock. On its own accord, your mind drifted back to the conversation in Tallinn. We’re just us. Me and you, was what he said back then. Only now, it was not that simple. Ignoring the ache in your heart, you swallowed hard, trying to find any traces of reason.

“But-” it was not meant to be.

Before you could add another word, Neil took hold of your hand, making you shut up. Shocked, you met his eyes, only to be paralyzed by the harshness of his expression. Your protests were not welcome. He has made up his mind.

“Darling, I appreciate the concern. However-” his tone was dripping with condescension.

The nickname felt like a slap. You tugged at the hand he still had in his grasp, cutting in sharply:

“How very patronizing of you” giving him the fakest of smiles, you added, “I had the illusion that you’re better than this… but well, as with most things I was wrong” a shrug to complete the insult “I still think there must be a way around it. There’s a reason why we got this warning” ending the torture of prolonged eye contact, you glanced around the table.

A silent cry for help. TP met your gaze, rapidly catching on to the desperation pouring out of your eyes. If anyone should get it, it’s him.

“Okay, hold on. Let’s suppose we do it as you say-” the boss interjected, putting all of the charisma into the sentence.

For nothing.

“Maybe the reason was that you need time to get used to the idea. Clearly, you’re the only one who opposes it this strongly” Neil was still looking at you only.

Cold blue eyes and lips twisted into a cruel smirk. That was the same man that fought with you on the highway in Tallinn. Terrible beauty. And yet, you could not look away, drawn by the gravitational pull that kept you tied to his side.

“What are you trying to say?” your voice sounded small.

The confidence was gone. The gloves were off. That was it. The explosion everyone feared. Judging by the way Neil leaned in closer, it was all part of the plan. Calculated and measured for the greatest impact. His knee bumped into your thigh. You froze as his nose brushed over your ear. Too close.

“That you lied to me a few days back. That you still l-” blood froze in your veins as you took in the meaning.

Before he could say the word, you hissed and lurched back.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the curse ripped apart the tense silence.

The pain was unimaginable. You felt close to screaming. Helpless. Alone. Desperate. In love. All for nothing.

“As I said, sometimes feelings need to be put aside. Whatever they might be,” you heard his voice as though from afar.

Enough. Releasing a long exhale, you closed the folder and stood up. That was enough. He did not deserve the sight of your tears.

“Now, let’s assume I go, open the door for the splinter unit, and… What are you doing?” Neil noticed your movement a second too late.

The confusion on his face was almost laughable. Pity.

“What does it look like?” you scoffed, pushing the chair back onto its place “I’ve had enough of this sacrificial bullshit and personal insults” addressing the room at large, you added, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the range”

You noticed Wheeler’s sympathetic nod breaking in through the concern on her face. Ives looked pissed off, and you could not blame him for it. You have made quite the show. Again. TP just glanced at you, utterly perplexed. There was no logical explanation for any of this.

“You can’t just-” attempting protest, Neil took hold of your hand again.

You knew the purpose behind that. If everything else failed, he was well aware that touch was your weakest point. That previously it always worked. Not anymore. You met his eyes, encountering nothing but annoyance and frustration.

“Neil” Wheeler’s warning was a welcomed addition “Let her go,”

That was all he needed. Letting go of your hand, he gave you a final look. Something shifted for a split second. But you found that you did not care. Without a second thought, you bolted out of the room. The very last thing you heard felt like the final blow:

“She’s being ridiculous,” Neil muttered dejectedly.

She. Just that. With shaking hands, you closed the zip lock.

“And you’re stupid. Sit the fuck down,” Ives’s command rung out in the air behind your back.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you ran down the corridor. Fuck.

*** That day you have successfully managed to hide from everyone. Wheeler came to check up on you in the evening to, as she put it, make sure you have not taken the shooting practice a little too seriously. You could only offer her your tear-streaked cheeks and reddened eyes as you assured her that this would be the worst state she was likely to see you in. Was that a lie? Maybe. To put it bluntly, after the morning nightmare of a confab, death sounded like an interesting option. Certainly better than another week of Neil offering to get himself killed just because. You chose 2 am that night to finally emerge from the cabin in the search of food. Without bothering to touch up your bedraggled appearance, you tiptoed down the corridor, taking one extra look at the door of Neil’s room. Why? Fuck knows. The silence was encouraging. However, that confidence was to be your ultimate downfall.

The moment you dealt with the airlock leading to the galley, you knew that you were not alone. Neil was there, chatting to one of the squad members you vaguely remembered from the days spent in inversion. Dominic, or something. Briefly, you considered turning back around and leaving as though you were never even there. But when the men turned, and your eyes met, it was too late. Luck was never on your side.

“Hi,” you gave them both a nod and opened the fridge before either could take a longer look at you.

“Evening” Neil cleared his throat awkwardly.

After a pause, the men picked up their conversation in hushed tones while finishing sandwiches. Mindlessly you stared at the contains of the fridge, hoping to appear occupied. To be forgotten. But to no avail. You could feel someone’s gaze burning into the side of your head. Somehow you knew that if you dared look up, the blue eyes would be there. Ready to analyze you. To find weaknesses and strike when appropriate. You could only hope he would not do it with Dominic present.

Fridge held no answers. You closed it quietly and took hold of the granola bar from the cupboard. Only tea left now… easy. They were still talking. From what you could hear, it had something to do with the inverted weaponry and the training you were all forced to recap before Stalsk. You thanked the gods for the presence of the buffer, as you not so patiently waited for the water to boil. The false sense of security shattered seconds later:

“Thanks, mate. See you in the morning, yeah?” Dominic rinsed the plate quickly and started to put on the mask.

What is worse, Neil was not doing the same. Instead, he was still sitting at the table, smiling at the colleague.

“Yep. Can’t wait,” the fake enthusiasm radiating from him in waves.

But it seemed like only you could see it. Another observation for nothing. Your pulse quickened as you realised that it was only a matter of seconds till you were alone again. And the fucking water was still boiling.

“Goodnight, Y/N” Dominic smiled at you before moving to open the airlock.

“Night night,” your response came out too breathlessly.

Crap. Just like that, he was gone. It was you and Neil, staring at each other like two animals locked up in a cage. He quickly assessed your appearance, taking in the puffed-up eyes, tangled hair, and shaking hands. You wanted to ask him whether he was satisfied with his work. But that would mean admitting how much it hurt. And your pride was in the way. The kettle switched off. Neil’s taxing gaze stopped as his eyes widened.

“Is that-” that is when you realised.

Fuck. When leaving the cabin, you have not changed. That meant you were still wearing the only article of clothing that brought some comfort. Neil’s burgundy sweater. And he most certainly recognized it.

“Neil I-” his name was the only answer as you struggled for words.

Neil stood up and pounced, closing the distance. The malicious look in his eyes was terrifying. And inspiring.

“Why do you have my sweater?” to emphasize the point, he took hold of the material, drawing you near in progress, “I didn’t take you for a thief,” delivered with a cruel smirk.

With Neil that close and acting ridiculously, you realised that above all, you were tired. And had enough of this. Of him.

“I used the opportunity and went into your apartment,” a tight-lipped smile thrown in before he could interject, “Yes, I know, don’t worry, I haven’t stolen anything else,” you added, enjoying the surprise flashing in his eyes.

He forgot about the keys. Or did not think you would use them after everything. And now, when he realised how much you knew, it was hard to accept. That was encouraging. You waited for Neil to bite back, letting yourself stare at him without shame. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes lit up. There we go…

“You know that you’re not making any sense?” he blurted out the question and tugged at the sweater “You just- You’re telling me that it’s all over and yet here you are, wearing my clothes” another tug, bringing you just as close as the last time “I mean that’s one way of confusing me further” he finished on a whisper.

It took you a moment to recover. To realise that once again, you were too close. When that clicked, you took a step back and met Neil’s gaze. Too satisfied. His pupils were darker than usual, and that was worryingly enticing. Focus. Anger was the answer.

“Confusing you?” a sudden idea struck, “Fucking hell, you know what?” another step back, “Just take it, and let’s end this discussion” you started taking the garment over your head.

“What- Why are you...” much to Neil’s shock.

Good. The cold air hit your body as you took off the sweater and threw it in his face. You were eternally grateful to your morning self for putting on that tank top. Not much, but still preventing you from the walk back in only the bra. As Neil scrambled to pick up the garment that fell onto the floor, you added:

“I’ll give you back the keys tomorrow” you met his wide-eyed stare with pleasure, “There’s no need to stare. You’ve seen it before,”

Yet, the way his gaze roamed over your body was fascinating. There was nothing to see there, but still, he seemed transfixed. You took that as your chance to strike.

“Hell, you’ve even had your hand down my pants. Twice” Neil flinched, and you smirked, “Talking about wrong life choices and all that” it was nice to see him hurt.

For once. Even if it was another lie. He looked lost, unable to find a response to something like that.

“I-” a pathetic attempt at god knows what.

You took a final glance at him there. Clutching the cashmere sweater in his hand. Hair falling into his eyes. Shoulder sagged. Defeated. Confused. Finally.

“Goodbye,” you grabbed the mug and left before Neil had a chance of recovery.

The walk back to the room was cold. But probably worth the pain.

*** Sighing with happiness for the first time that day, you closed the door to the cabin and collapsed onto the bed. For the past three hours, you have been occupied with training that Ives made mandatory for all the mission participants, and you were exhausted. The only encouragement was the fact that the squad leader made sure your shift was different from that of Neil. What was even better, he did that without you needing to ask first. Just like that. And you were very grateful. Moments like those last two encounters in the kitchen were best avoided at all costs. Any contact was ideally off the books. Even when it hurt.

With the sweater gone, you had no more things to hold on to. Well, apart from all those memories and the ability to read him like an open book. Utterly useless skills like algebra or functions at this point. You have changed into the comfiest set of sweatpants and a hoodie, hoping to spend the next few hours marinating in your misery. But long before you could even think of the first reason to cry, a knock made you jump up. Who the hell…. Grudgingly, you got up and opened the door.

“Hey…” you did not expect him.

Despite everything, your heart was naive enough to stumble upon the sight of Neil. And his stupid hair. And the repentant look in his eyes. What even.

“What do you want?” you decided to cut the bullshit, meeting his gaze coldly.

The visit was certainly unexpected. As was the fact that he seemed apologetic. Meek, even. Neil shifted nervously before answering:

“Here’s the sweater. You can keep it” he handed you the garment with a tiny smile, “It smells more like you than me now, but…” trailing off, he shrugged.

The implications of that statement were too much to handle. As was the fact that he gave you back the sweater. You gaped at him, speechless. It made no sense. But the silence stretched too long, and Neil looked even more uncomfortable.

“Okay…” you accepted the gift, making sure your hands have not brushed.

“I’m sorry about how I reacted yesterday it wasn’t reasonable,” he added, with that contrite tone you were not used to.

Unreasonable? That was one way of describing what happened the previous night. You did not know whether it was the glaring lack of confidence radiating from him or as something as simple as the fact that you missed him. But you could feel the resolve crumble.

“I’d say nothing you do is reasonable… thanks though” mustering a weak smile, you stepped away from the door, “You can come in if you want,”

Risky. And something Neil did not expect either, judging by the way he hesitated before entering the cabin and closing the door. You sat down on the edge of the bed and observed his awkward movement. A look around the small space. His eyes slipping over the few personal items you had. The sparring gear you have carelessly thrown onto the floor. And the bin full of used tissues. How humiliating. Then he perched on the chair and met your gaze wearily. Without you even needing to ask the question, he answered:

“I guess it surprised me to see that you’re using something of mine after everything” the honesty was strangely comforting.

For the first time since the disastrous mission in Tallinn, you could tell that he was genuine. Open for you to read and interpret however you fancy. That was intriguing. Enjoying the way his eyes roamed over your features, you leaned back on the bed. Relaxed. Sincere. You could try that.

“It surprises me too,” shrugging, you pursed your lips, staring thoughtfully at the window.

You did not have to look at him to imagine the expression on his face. A little concerned, extremely curious.

“How do you mean?” the soft tone made you glance back.

Sure enough, the furrowed eyebrows and sparkling eyes were there. Neil crossed his legs, studying you intently. You could tell that he wanted to know. That this was probably the closest you would ever come to a normal conversation with him. Might as well use it.

“Well, the heart knows best,” offering him a sad smile, you laced your hands in your lap.

Here’s to hoping he won’t turn it on you. But when you dared look up at Neil again, you were surprised to see him stunned by what you revealed. After a beat, he found the words:

“I thought you don’t-”

Of course. Unable to stop the irritation gnawing at your heart, you scoffed, preventing him from saying something so wrong.

“I never said that,” you explained upon his wide-eyed stare, “But that��s beyond the point, isn’t it?” you sighed, hoping to make him drop the topic before it would drift somewhere dangerous “Why are you here?”

You took a longer look at him then. Taking in the denial painted on his face. He wanted to press on, to get you to explain things. Not today. Then, returning your taxing gaze, Neil offered you his wistful smile.

“I suppose I’ve missed you” the sincerity of the statement was terrifying.

You felt a painful pang in your chest, as though the heart itself was awaiting the tragic end to this conversation. Courage. For a second, you wanted to cross that meter of space. To… Yeah, what exactly? One memory of what he said in the kitchen a few nights back was enough to sober up. You had to be careful.

“...right” the next words were a result of annoyance, pure and simple “Are you sure there isn’t anyone better? Because I bet there are at least five people aboard this ship who would give you everything. Without questions asked. Maybe you should talk to them” once you were done with the rant, you faced Neil again.

He was gaping, speechless. It seemed like his sharp wit was missing. That was only good news for you. A myriad of feelings passed in his eyes. You could discern shock, offense, heartbreak, and most surprisingly, something darker. Contradicting the very next thing he said:

“If I was looking for that, I’d never come to you. Because I value you more. But I don’t expect you to believe me” the defeat in Neil’s eyes was confusing.

But not any less than you were at that moment. More than what? A cheap fuck? One could hope so. But at the same time, considering the multitude of instances when he seemed desperate to get too close, it felt like a lie.

“I don’t, so you got something right,” you admitted, hoping to keep the emotions in check.

His blue eyes were fixed on you with intensity, trying to read all that you were not saying. After a minute of excessive staring, you were the first one to give up. The last thing you saw was a smirk forming on Neil’s lips. As though he knew that you were close to breaking. Close to potentially doing something stupid. Jumping up, you paced to the window. Nothing but sea and sky. And the damned birds. But even that was better than being faced with what you have lost. After a few days on board the icebreaker, you got used to the casual outfits he sported. What was worse is that they did nothing to make this any easier. It only proved the theory that Neil looked good in anything. Well, fuck him. Only not literally.

With the silence stretching well past the point of awkwardness, you grasped onto the first passing thought, turning to Neil again:

“You’ve talked about… me with TP, haven’t you?” it was a strange change of topic, but also something that has been on your mind for a while “Because suddenly he seems to trust me and I’m not sure what the fuck happened” throwing in the expletive, you sat down on the floor with your back against the wall.

Neil eyed you curiously. He was strangely quiet, and you wondered why that could be. Whether it meant that for once, he did not know what to say. Or maybe because he already regretted coming to see you. Yeah, probably that second option.

“Yes, I’ve explained a few things on the way to Oslo” the diplomatic tone was mildly annoying.

He leaned back in the chair, making sure to face you in the new dynamic. Only the nervous foot-tapping was a sign that he did not like the direction of the conversation. Interesting.

“Such as?” pressing on, you took a moment to observe him.

These days he gave up on styling the hair as the wind outside would always blow it in his eyes. That was rather adorable. He unzipped the pullover, shifting in the seat. Tension spilling out in weaves as Neil waved his hand dismissively.

“It doesn’t really matter,” another remorseful smile.

So, he must have said much more than just the basics. Could he have admitted to things even you were not allowed to know?

“Well, you must’ve said some crucial bits if he’s now so eager to take my side” arching your eyebrow, you met his gaze purposefully.

Hoping he will catch on. Just like the matter of whatever it was between you, the battle plans were a clear no-go in this conversation. But that did not mean you could not hint at it. He had to understand that you were not going to give in so easily. That his suicidal mission was not getting a green light from you. The bait worked. Kind of.

“I said things that you and I should probably explain to each other one day” Neil’s grin did not reach his eyes.

Oh. He must have read the shock from your face, for his eyes glimmered dangerously as he relaxed on the chair. Your brain froze. Things? As in what? You both did and did not want to ask. Instead, you chose to attack.

“We won’t have time if you sacrifice yourself” simply put with a merciless stare.

Neil frowned, not expecting that kind of a dig. Before you could taste the satisfaction, his weary expression caught you off guard. Could that really hurt him? The cold of the wall was digging into your back.

“Let’s leave that for the meeting tomorrow,” a silent plea in the blue eyes “I don’t want to argue,”

He meant it. The tiredness etched onto his face told you as much. You were used to seeing the same kind of exhaustion every morning in the mirror. You could let him off.

“Okay…” a solemn nod before you got up and picked up the pacing again.

It was a strange feeling to be with him alone and yet not close. You realised that this was likely the first time since the early days when you were together somewhere private and were not even touching. It felt wrong.

“How did you like my place?” Neil’s question was like a much-needed grounding.

Swallowing down the discomfort, you turned back to him. The innocence was just a façade that he has put on for your sake. He expected an answer, and you did not know where to start. And then… the way his hair caught rays of sunlight was an inspiration.

“It was… enlightening,” you relished in the curiosity reflected at you, “For starters, I never realised that this is all fake” crossing the space in one leap, you ran your fingers through his hair.

Just like the old times. Only then, Neil would not shudder upon the initial contact. It took him a longer moment to recover. You smirked seeing his stunned face and resumed the movement, separating the strands slowly. You had no clue why this was the fact you latched onto. Blonde or not, he was a sight. But the idea that he dyed his hair would not leave your mind like the worst of brain worms.

“Ah, you’ve seen the photos” when he finally found the words again, his voice was hoarse.

As though whatever you were doing had some sort of an effect. A spark of confidence. You tugged at a strand sharply, the gasp making you bite your lip hard. A dangerous game. The words you have been biting back begun to spill from your mouth:

“It fascinates me because you act oh so confident all the time, and yet you’re pretending you’re someone you’re not” glancing down, you noticed the closed eyes and pursed lips.

It was definitely working. Whatever you even wanted to achieve. It was nice to hold power for once. To call him out on the bullshit you had to deal with every day.

“That’s just hair,” Neil protested weakly, grabbing onto your free hand and encircling the wrist.

Unable to stop the emotions bubbling under the surface, you scoffed:

“It really isn’t. I mean, why? It’s not like you have to scrape for attention” his eyes met yours with defiance, “Unless you’re compensating for something. In which case, that’s just ridiculous” the hit came with a visible flinch from Neil “And ever so manly” you perfected the punchline with a final tug on his golden strands.

That turned out to be a step too far. Before you could sense a change in the mood, Neil used the hold over your hand to bring you down. More accurately, to make you sit in his lap. Your brain caught up too late. Suddenly he was too close, with hands settling on your hips, securing you in place. Fuck. You opened your eyes, cursing the moment of weakness. Neil was staring right back, his eyes unreadable and dark. You messed up.

“What are you doing?” too breathless.

He caught onto that, rubbing circles onto your thigh, focused on you. It would be easy to get up and throw him out, ending this madness. But you found that you did not want to.

“I’m not sure. Say a word, and I’ll leave. But...” he trailed off, searching your eyes for something.

A protest, most likely. A clear-cut rejection. When he found nothing, he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours. So close. Slowly your willpower was waning. You placed your palm over his heart to feel the warmth.

“Neil, why...” unable to find the words, you stared at him with questions multiplying in your head.

What was this? Was it why he came? And why, despite the hurt he inflicted, you could not tell him to stop?

“Because you’re here. It’s all I need to start feeling like...” another open-ended response.

Adding on to the confusion. His heart was beating fast, breaths coming out shallow. With fingers still tangled in his hair, you urged him to keep eye contact. That was the only chance of telling whether he was honest.

“Like what? Like you could want me?” the words were hard to say out loud.

For a moment, you felt like this was Tallinn all over again. Like you were losing sanity just for the sake of getting something from him. The ever-present yearning getting the best of you. The only difference was that this time Neil was the desperate one. His hands roamed over your hips and thighs, causing worrying jolts of electricity. It shouldn’t be that easy.

“You know that I do,” a whisper, eyes overfilled with determination.

Did you? Now – maybe. Any other day – hell knows.

“Maybe once I did. But recently... I don’t think you know what you want. You’re just...” you offered him the honesty, absentmindedly running your fingertips over his temple.

Exploring all that was familiar yet missed so much. The creases on his forehead deepened.

“What?” Neil leaned in once again, nuzzling the skin on your neck.

The shaky exhale felt like a defeat. It was increasingly hard to think, let alone give him coherent answers.

“You’re not making any sense” that had to do.

Only it was whispered breathlessly. Not convincing.

“Maybe this will make sense...”

Before you could contemplate the meaning of his words, Neil kissed your neck, drawing out a shudder. One of his hands wandered underneath the hoodie. His fingers ghosted the skin. You have not realised how much you’ve missed it until you got it. As he got braver in his ministrations, teeth grazing over your pulse point, hands stroking your bare back, you felt intoxicated. Unable to do anything but pull him closer and let your hands venture underneath his black t-shirt. It made no sense. But as soon as a reasonable thought would come up, Neil would do something to make you forget. It could be a kiss right under your ear or fingers getting too close to your sports bra. Christ. No logic, just Neil being the sole reason for insanity. The heat travelling up your veins was getting too evident to be ignored. As he gave you a particularly forceful mark by sucking on the skin in the crook of your neck, you could not hold back a moan. It pierced the silence accompanied only by your shallow breaths. Neil froze as though he was not expecting a reaction that strong. His breath causing goosebumps all along your neck. For a second, you wanted to pull him even closer, to give permission to take everything he desires. Even without a promise that it would mean something to him. He raised his head, meeting your wild gaze with the darkened pupils of his own. The proximity was suffocating. Unable to make sense of your thoughts, you leaned in, hoping to get lost in a kiss. To buy some time before you would have to make up your mind. That is when Neil did something unexpected – he pulled back, with a strangely remorseful look in his eyes. Fuck. Alarm bells started ringing out in your head, harshly reminding you about the reality of the situation. As though nothing happened, Neil’s hands went back to the meticulous caress of your upper body. But you could not ignore the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach. What if this wouldn’t mean a thing? Suddenly it seemed like the worst mistake you could make. The previous frenzy was quickly replaced with dread. Not meant to be. You retracted your hands from underneath Neil’s shirt and pushed him back. It took all the strength available to deliver the next sentence with necessary firmness:

“I think you should leave,” you hoped to hide the pain behind the schooled features.

If he was surprised, he was very good at pretending. His eyes searched yours for a beat, and then he let go of you. His touch was already missed.

“If that’s what you want,” Neil’s voice revealed remains of passion as he nonchalantly smoothed the hair you have tangled.

That was the cue to get up. With cheeks burning, you turned away from him, doing your best to cool off and keep the scraps of dignity you had still left. Before you could risk a dangerous spiral, Neil’s voice brought you back to the moment:

“Too close, wasn’t it?” you frowned at the casual tone.

He was zipping up the pullover, staring at you with startling composure. As though the past minutes have not happened. As though he has not marked you as his for the umpteenth time. It was terrifying.

“What?” you gaped, trying to collect the thoughts and keep calm.

“We got too close. And you’re worried because for a moment you wanted more than you should” Neil shrugged upon your quiet gasp.

He could read you too well.

“Don’t do that,” a pathetic attempt at a plea.

But it must have worked for his expression softened. A small smile split his face as Neil pressed the door handle:

“Just thought you should know that I don’t mind. I don’t have much left to lose,” a parting remark, and then he was gone.

You covered your face with your hands, falling onto the knees when the remains of strength gave out. What a fucking mess.

*** What you did not expect to be the hardest feat of all before the meeting the next morning was making sure that all the bruises were covered up. You did not need to add questions and human curiosity to the list of your problems. After all, it would have been obvious to anyone with a brain. You fucked up, and Neil was the reason why and how that happened. As usual. That was best avoided since everyone on your war council knew enough already when it came to your relationship. Or whatever the fuck it was.

As you walked in, everyone else was already on the bridge, spreading the materials and preparing the whiteboard. Wheeler gave you a welcoming smile which at that moment was worth more than it should. Any expression of kindness was at a premium. You sat down, and before you could process much of what was going on, a mug of coffee appeared before your eyes. Just so. A second later, Neil took the seat next to you without acknowledging your existence. Cool. Perplexed, you looked around the room, locking eyes with TP. He shrugged as though exactly aware of your issues yet unable to help. That much was enough to make you feel a tiny bit better. After a beat, the boss spoke up:

“Before we begin… Y/N?” his question interrupted the first experimental sip of the coffee.

Perfect. Again.

“Yes?” you ignored the annoying spike of anxiety upon being the centre of attention.

“Is Mahir going back to meet Kat in Vietnam on the 14th?”

Ah, that. The little side quest that you have been given ages ago with close to no information towards its purpose. Thankfully, Mahir cooperated. No questions were asked as you arranged for him to invert in London and travel to Vietnam to be Kat’s aide. That kind of smooth operation was a welcomed change.

“Yep, as ordered,” you offered the dark-eyed man a small smile, “Turns out I am capable of not fucking up some things…” that addition was a product of spite.

It was rewarding to see Ives and Wheeler crack a grin at your comment. It made you feel less alienated, as though it was only the man on your right that had issues. And he might as well be ignored. Neil was being helpful in his silence too, moodily staring at the papers in front, refusing to lay his eyes on you. It was painful, especially considering the previous day, but it also meant you felt more at ease.

“It would be great if we could agree upon a few things finally,” TP interrupted the silence, looking at you all expectantly.

“Can’t promise you that, chief” you shrugged, aware of the way Neil shifted in his seat.

His knee bumped into your leg, starting the irritating dance you thought you had moved past. But, supposedly, laying his hands all over your body yesterday was not enough for him.

“I know. But let’s try” you focused all the attention back on the boss “Splinter unit,” the phrase fell between you all like a death sentence “Who and how?”

“The tunnel” you picked up the map and showed it to him, “That’s what the intel said” taking the sip of coffee, you added, “As towards who…”

One of the sleepless nights has been spent wondering whether you should not volunteer for that. The logic was that there was a reason why TP chose you as his link with everyone else. It meant his future version trusted you enough. But it also meant you were important. In those hopeless moments, it felt like maybe that was the purpose. And if it would mean no coming back? So be it. Death for the means of saving the world did not sound half that bad. Before you could express the thoughts, TP spoke up again:

“It should be me” his voice was emotionless.

“Why-” Neil’s voice rang out in the room.

You glanced at him, noticing the tension and worry radiating from him. It was a strange situation; everyone could see that. You all knew that TP had to survive. After all, how could you be at this point if he did not? He had to set up Tenet, hire Neil, Ives and everyone else, prepare the ground for the operation to unfold just like this. But then, considering everything you have been told about temporal paradoxes… could it be that simple? Or was Neil wrong, and what’s happened could also unhappen, so to speak? Too much. Your head began to pound.

“I’m the protagonist of this whole operation. The reason why you’re all here” that was convincing.

And in any other situation, you would have laughed at the prophetic overtone of the statement. But now other emotions were more prominent…

“Mmmm, I’m here because of him,” you retorted, pointedly staring at Neil,

“Only, he doesn’t care” that is when the man turned to look at you for the first time that morning.

Irritated. Fed up with your bullshit. Lips pressed into a thin line. Eyes glimmering dangerously. Nothing new.

“What are you-” the sharp edge to his voice was satisfying.

Any kind of reaction meant you succeeded at pissing him off. Somehow back then, it was the best thing that could happen.

“Just being salty. Don’t mind me” you shrugged, making sure to pat his shoulder quickly.

Another tiny stab. Neil’s eyes flicked to your hand in a flash and then back to meet your eyes. You could only give him a deliberate smirk.

“Anyways… The splinter unit will be two people” Ives brought back the topic with palpable annoyance, “I’ve got an obvious choice on my mind, but I’ll discuss that later with some of you” the definitive tone would have made anyone shut up.

Not you though. Not when there was nothing to lose, and you decided that you might as well have fun with this mess.

“Why so mysterious, huh?” another quip, all to make Ives look up at you with surprise.

He rolled his eyes, showing you exactly what he thought of your new approach to things.

“We’ve got a more pressing topic to deal with” nothing to play with there.

What a shame. Mouthing an apology at the squad leader, you could feel the tension surge. The more trivial topics have been already mentioned and moved past. Now it was the time for big guns. For another clash of the titans.

“Precisely,” Neil jumped at the chance and spoke “The elephant in the room is rather obvious” his eyes scanned the space with a predatory gleam, settling on you, “I mean, look at her… she’s barely staying quiet,” a mocking smirk to compliment the statement.

Presumptuous fuck. Despite the anger reaching a boiling point in your veins, you refused to give him the satisfaction. To show how much it hurt.

“Her?” arching your eyebrow, you met his gaze defiantly “Neil, that’s a low blow. Even for you” a passing flinch on his face giving the power to keep going “But yes, I’d love to know whether you’ve changed your mind regarding some important matters” you addressed the room at large, searching for support.

That concerned look Wheeler shot you was helpful. As was the way TP hunched in the chair, burdened with terrifying possibilities of Neil’s stubbornness. Maybe you won’t have to be alone in this.

“I’m going in,” the blonde man shrugged nonchalantly, staring you down, “The only thing you can do is help us plan how to make it work,”

The strategy was to alienate you. Make it sound like you were the only one protesting against his idiotic plan. Well, not on your watch. Now was the time to put all those sleepless nights to use.

“How to make what work? Your suicide?” you scoffed, taking pleasure in how he frowned at the word, “If you let me speak for once, I’ve got an idea” finishing the lukewarm coffee, you gathered needed strength.

“Go ahead, sunshine,” a sarcastic half-smile, begging to be wiped off his face with a slap.

Maybe another time.

“What if two people went first to take care of the lock?” your voice cut through the tension permeating the room, “You rarely send anyone out without a cover. Because it’s unreasonable. So why this time it should be different?” that was logical.

The most sensible of plans you could come up with. Two on the splinter unit; two to deal with the lock. More likely to find an exit or, simply, survive whatever was waiting by the dead-drop. You also had ideas when it came to who should accompany Neil. But those were best kept a secret.

“Because losing two is worse than one. Even you can do the maths” the unnecessary dig made you roll your eyes.

He was ridiculous. In moments like this, you wished you had never fallen for him. But there was no point in crying over the spilt milk.

“Two have greater chances of survival,” you counterattacked, stating the obvious.

The truth he was so gladly ignoring for his purposes.

“You’ve got a point,” Wheeler chimed in, making you both turn to her.

“Thanks,” you offered the brightest grin you could muster and searched for more backing on the faces of the fellow companions.

Before you could analyse the grave expressions on TP and Ives’s faces, Neil spoke up again:

“You’re also rather emotional…” another insult.

Fuck. It was getting increasingly hard to stay calm. But that was the only thing to do. Another scene before the whole team was certainly not desired. You took a deep breath, fighting to maintain composure.

“Neil, stop” Ives was your saviour of the hour, interrupting with the non-bullshit attitude, “I think this idea is worth going over. It’s not like we’ve got anything better,”

You vowed to send Ives a bouquet of roses if you were still alive after all this. Or better, take him out to a pub. Nothing was settled upon during that meeting. The chaos of you all trying to convince Neil to listen to your arguments was only interrupted with him throwing more offences at you. Apart from emotional, you learned you were also delusional. And a potential loose cannon that was best kept away from making crucial decisions. You debated putting all of those on your CV and asking him to provide the references. After all, Neil was the expert when it came to your skillset. After half hour of barely held-together discussion, Ives told you all to calm down and fuck off for the time being. At least until you could decide on something without jumping to your throats. You doubted that was even possible. You were resolved to drive your plan forward. And so was Neil.

When the meeting was over, you were the first one to leave, hoping to slip out before anyone could stop you. You made it as far as the corridor leading to the bridge when you felt someone grab your arm, making you turn around. Of course. Neil’s steel-blue eyes were staring at you coldly. He was getting ready to attack, and you did not want to let him. Before either of you could break the silence, someone stopped in the corridor, and the familiar voice spoke:

“You two should fuck each other already,” you scowled at Ives’s choice of words, “Or break-up. I don’t care, only don’t do this again” he gave you a long taxing look, with annoyance brewing underneath.

You could not blame him. Only that kind of comment was too much right now. With cheeks burning, you desperately searched for words. Neil found them for you:

“We’re not together” dead simple with a tinge of anger to it.

You took a look at Neil, noticing the frown set on his face. And the fact that he was still holding on to you. Fingers wrapped around your bicep, just enough force to make it seem questionable.

“Could’ve fooled me” the squad leader shrugged and walked off before either of you could react.

Great start. Yanking your arm free, you asked:

“What do you want?” you made sure to make him hear the irritation.

That was against the plan, and you doubted your ability to survive yet another confrontation. From the look in his eyes, you could also guess where this was going.

“I know what you’re doing. All I’ve got to say is don’t,” Neil stared you down, keen on intimidation, “I won’t let it happen” no room for discussion there.

Well, maybe with any other idiot. You knew it would come to it. The moment when you would have to admit that your plan involved going with Neil. And there would be no debate about it. It had to be you. Reasons? Inexplicable.

“Tough luck because I’m not letting you get killed,” you counterattacked, meeting his intense gaze without reluctance, “Or go in there alone,” a pointed emphasis, to show him you meant it.

You felt like you could win this one. Maybe even walk away without the tears in your eyes. Just this once. But then Neil did what he does best – changed the topic.

“If this is about what happened-” he reached out to you again, fingers curling around your wrist.

There we go. You were surprised it took him that long to mention the previous afternoon. His touch and the bruises were hard to forget, but so was the lack of affection in his eyes. As though you were just another hook-up. Someone to seduce, get pleasure from, and then leave without a word of explanation. Nothing more. You deserved better than this. With heart hammering in your chest, you responded:

“Not everything is about you trying to fuck me, Neil,” it was his turn to scowl, as though the words have hurt him.

It was only fair.

“Who said-” his grip on your wrist tightened, drawing you closer.

But that alone was not enough to distract you from the denial he tried to pass as the truth.

“Please,” you gave him a pointed look, “That was a mistake, and it’s best treated like one” swallowing down the discomfort, you let the statement fall between you.

You wanted nothing but to forget about it. Brush it under the carpet. The marks were enough of a punishment for a moment of weakness. Neil seemed to consider something quickly, weighting the options, before he nodded:

“Of course,” the formality had the potential to drive you mad, “I’m glad we seem to agree on something,”

For a second, you contemplated leaving the scene. You knew he would not follow, too caught up in the grudges and apprehensions to stop you from escaping. But you wanted to have the last word. To put to use the ability to see right through his act. Neil was staring at you with eyes narrowed, trying to anticipate the very next move. You were sure to surprise him.

“Think I have figured it out though,” he arched his eyebrow in a silent question “Why you’re so keen on doing something that stupid” his face fell, you took a step forward “It’s that hero complex, hidden under honourable acts and philosophical bullshit” pulling your hand out of his hold, you advanced to intimidate, “You think you’re past redemption. That you don’t deserve it. But you can’t give up until you save everybody else. That’s just who you are” the sheer panic in his eyes was fascinating “Only there’s me. An obstruction” Neil swallowed hard as you laid your hand on his shoulder; nearly there, “And you might not love me, but it still doesn’t mean I can let you do it” you gave him a final sad smile, brushing away a stray hair from his pullover.

Yours, judging by the length and colour. A quirk of fate. You were too busy contemplating the fact to notice a shift in his eyes. Denial. Disbelief. Darkness.

“My god… you’re so stupid” the sharp edge to his voice was dripping with venom, “How can you not see it?” Neil was looking at you as though you were an idiot.

Wow. Fighting the urge to breakdown, you took a deep breath. You should have known he had not had enough of hurting you. Always naïve.

“… thanks,” you chuckled dryly, holding on to the remains of anger in your system, “First ‘emotional and delusional’. Now this… you’re expanding your vocabulary” his silence was deafening, “I wonder what will be next… expletives?” the next statement came from the depths of your heart “It would be much easier to just admit that you hate me, and we could be done with this”

That childlike belief in the existence of love wanted him to say no. To deny that he could ever despise you in any way. But the innocence had to be buried if you were to survive.

“I’ll consider that” the cold calculation in Neil’s eyes was terrifying. It was truly over. Even if your heart felt like it was being ripped out. The edges of your vision were blurring, eyes burning with tears begging to be released. Not yet.

“Fab,” you brushed away the strand that was falling into his eyes, “As a final note… I admit that the worst mistake I have ever made was allowing myself to believe you’re worth it”

It was not exactly the truth. But the tiniest moment of passing shock in his eyes was a good enough response. For a second, Neil was speechless, stunned by your harsh words and the way you caressed his face. One last guilty pleasure.

“I’m glad you’re acknowledging it” his face split in an attempt at a smile.

It was broken. Dishonest. There was something fascinating in him at that very moment. The set jaw, eyes cold as ice; yours, but not at all. The beautiful and damned. Gently, you ran your fingers over his stubble, hoping to memorise his face in every way possible. The intensity of his gaze was beginning to drive you insane, offering eternal suffering if you were to make the smallest mistake. Never again.

“The cruelty looks good on you” you zipped up his pullover in one smooth motion and turned away.

The searing pain in your chest was the needed punchline.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #neil x reader #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

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Hardly A Date

Index

A/N: Hello lovelies! I’m sorry this took me so long. This has been a very awkward week. I was sad and I tried to dump my feelings into writing, but sometimes it’s not that easy...ugh I’m sorry. I hope you like this one. It was requested a while ago. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes. Also, I gave reader the physical characteristics of Lily Potters for (insert some good reasons). So, I am sorry if it’s not as immersive as it could have been.

Dearest anon requester, I’m sorry this took me so long. Let me know if you read it and like it (I really wish you do).

Draco x Potter! Reader (she/her) Word count: 2735 Summary: Draco has a crush on Harry’s twin sister, who resembles Lily Potter.

Enjoy!

Harry sulked all the way to potions class. It was the first day of fifth year and his twin sister, (Y/N), was getting too much attention for his liking. He had always thought his sister was beautiful, but now every boy in school seemed to have realized it as well. Over the summer, she had grown taller and curvier. Her red hair had darkened a bit more. She wore it long, which framed her face delightfully. The resemblances to their mother was such that not even aunt Petunia could deny it. It made her harsher towards (Y/N), but not even that dampened the girl’s spirits.

(Y/N) felt confident as she walked by her brother. Since they set foot on Hogwarts, she had been the more popular twin thanks to her kindness and vivaciousness. She paid no mind to the looks and laughed at her brother’s overprotectiveness. As the Fab Four sat at the very front, as per Hermione’s request, (Y/N) felt something hit her in the head. Her hands searched the back of her hair and grabbed the paper crane that landed on her head. She turned around to find the one and only Draco Malfoy staring at her wide-eyed. He had sent the bird as a taunt to her twin brother and in no way had intended for it to hit her. The thought of her seeing the cruel drawing inside the bird made his stomach churn.

Draco was transfixed. It was the first time he saw her since last year and her striking green eyes were doing wicked tricks to his heart. Since year one, he had a crush on her. He thought those who didn’t acknowledge her beauty should be burned at the stake. A year before, the blond had simmered in jealousy when he saw her at the Yule Ball with her brother, but that image paled in comparison to seeing her now. He cringed as she turned around, opening the paper crane.

Just as she did, Snape came in to the classroom. He was not in a good mood and it only got worse when he saw (Y/N) Potter sitting on the front row. She was scribbling something on a piece of parchment. She was the spitting image of Lily Evans during her schooldays, back when they were still friends and he clang to the sliver of hope that she’d love him like he did. It was almost painful to see his student. Her presence soured his mood even more, so he decided he was not putting up with it.

“Eva– I mean, Potter,” he said, motioning to (Y/N), “change places with Goyle.”

(Y/N)’s gaze went back, once again, to the back of the room, where the Slytherins sat. Gregory Goyle was sitting just besides Draco. She stood up silently and put her things in her bag. Harry groaned lowly.

“I’m definitely failing now,” he murmured.

(Y/N) gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s going to be alright, Harry. You’re good at this.”

“Never as good as you, sis,” he countered, “And if that prick does something to you I am going to kill him.”

She rolled her eyes in response and dramatically bid her brother goodbye. She walked all the way to the back of the room, where a very embarrassed Draco Malfoy waited for her. She greeted him cordially as she took her place. Draco and (Y/N) hadn’t crossed more than ten words at a time. She was not a hothead like Harry, so she hardly gave in to the taunting. At times, when he said something particularly nasty, she’d snap. Her comebacks were intelligent and sharp and often than not he’d be to flustered to answer. So, they were not on good terms, but not on a “I want to burn you alive and dance over your ashes” basis.

“I believe this is yours, Malfoy,” she said coolly after handing him the paper crane.

The Slytherin swallowed hard and took the bird from her hands without saying a word. He listened intently as Snape gave the instructions. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her flipping through the pages in her book until she settled on the one with the recipe for the draught of peace.

They brewed the potion in silence. Draco was enamoured by (Y/N)’s gentleness and the way she’d handle everything with the utmost care. She was also unnaturally kind, as she didn’t seem bitter at him for the paper crane or anything, really. It was a relief.

“Are you sure we have to powder the unicorn horn?” He didn’t intend for it to come out as mean, but it sure sounded like that.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, as if challenging him, and theatrically put more pressure on her mortar. Her lips turned into a mischievous smirk and Draco had to stop what himself from putting too much powdered moonstone into the cauldron.

“I recall you saw me read the instructions,” she answered matter-of-factly.

Draco scratched the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and nodded at her sheepishly. “Just checking,” he murmured.

“You should check your hands before adding the ingredients,” she teased as she pointed at the moonstone.

He smiled and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Are you suggesting that I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“I suggest nothing, Malfoy. I affirm.”

Draco was about to answer, finding the playful banter amusing, when Snape scolded them from his desk. Assuming they had been bickering, Harry turned around, shooting daggers at the blond and giving her sister encouragement she didn’t need. (Y/N) shrugged and, after her twin turned around, smiled kindly at Draco. After that, they worked mechanically. As their potion turned into the desired turquoise blue colour, (Y/N) even concluded that they were a good team.

As Snape approached to their desk, (Y/N) noticed how he didn’t even spare her a glance. He talked to Draco and asked him questions about the process. And when he gave them their well-deserved O, it was Draco he congratulated. (Y/N) said nothing of it, but found it frustrating. When he walked away, she released the breath she always held when he graded her and started packing.

Before she left, she flashed her classmate yet another impish grin. “I exhort you to open that paper crane.”

Once she was gone, the Slytherin opened the folded bird to find her intervention to his work. He had drawn Harry being hit by a thunder and falling off his broom. She had altered it for it to be him, falling and hitting the ground wrapped in a cloud of dust. It was so well done, Draco couldn’t be offended.

…

For the next two months, (Y/N) and Draco worked together in potions. Every time, they’d engage in small talk and friendly banter. He marvelled at her wittiness and her sense of humour. He loved it when she got dramatic and made theatrical gestures or used aristocratic language just because. Draco was falling hard and fast for the redhaired Potter.

It actually made him wonder over the nature of his hatred for her twin brother. He found her funny and charming. He felt so at peace when they spent time together. And then there was Harry Potter, who he found utterly irritating, brash and self-righteous. He didn’t understand how they could possibly be related. She was amazing in absolutely every way he was faulty.

Maybe he didn’t particularly hate Harry? And why didn’t he ‘hate’ (Y/N) anyways? She was just as self-righteous as her brother. They were practically joined at the hip and she was always involved in the same shenanigans as Harry was. They had the same eyes. Why hate them in one and love them in the other? What was the real reason for him to go out of his way to torment (Y/N)’s twin and friends?

Deep down he knew.

These thoughts consumed him as he did his rounds for the inquisitorial squad. At first, he had joined Umbridge’s team because he wanted the authority and for a while he enjoyed it. Then, (Y/N) and Harry got punished by their sadistic teacher and he no longer wore his badge with pride. He knew they were up to something, but seeing (Y/N)’s swollen hand during their next potion class was enough to feel ashamed of his position.

Draco was just about to go to his common room, when somebody collided with him. He was too deep in his thoughts to feel the rush of getting someone in trouble. And then noticed the deep red hair and the scared green eyes. His heart started beating hard on his chest.

(Y/N) was absolutely terrified. She hadn’t realized it was Draco at first; she was running as fast as she could from the room of requirement. Usually, she left D.A. meetings with Harry, but today he was playing Don Juan with Cho Chang and everyone else was gone. She was good at sneaking around. She was halfway there when she saw Peeves and decided to make a run for it before he saw her and woke the whole castle.

That’s how she had ended practically in Draco’s arms. She was sweaty and out of breath and now she had to deal with the Slytherin prince. He was nice to her in potions, but she wasn’t sure that was enough to get her off the hook. (Y/N) imagined herself getting another detention with Umbridge and it made her want to cry.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said as he grabbed her face tenderly.

For a second there, she thought she was hallucinating. She looked at him, eyes still teary, but also full of confusion. He smiled awkwardly, suddenly self-conscious of their position.

“A-Are you alright?”

“Just a bit agitated.” She tried to be as casual as possible.

“Let me walk you to your common room. That way nobody else will get you in trouble,” he said, offering her arm to her.

Draco knew that she was up to something. If he wanted to, he could’ve gotten all the dirt on their little secret society. She would’ve been in a lot of trouble and he’d be the hero of the school. He said nothing, though, especially because she was holding onto his arm for dear life. They walked peacefully towards the Gryffindor common room and with every step he could only think about the idea that had been brewing in his mind for a while.

(Y/N) thought she was in the most ridiculous situation. She was a member of Dumbledore’s Army and he was Umbridge’s minion. He could’ve gotten her, her brother and friends in trouble, which was what he had wanted to do since their first day in Hogwarts. And here they were, arms linked as he escorted her to safety.

Suddenly, they stood in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. (Y/N) looked at Draco with gratitude. He nodded and offered her a smile. With trembling fingers, he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Draco noticed (Y/N) blushing a little.

“(Y/N)…there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, the sudden rush of confidence making him lightheaded.

“Yes?”

“Would you go to the next Hogsmeade trip with me? On a date?”

(Y/N) was speechless. She didn’t know Draco thought of her that way, but suddenly the fact that he didn’t rat her out made sense. Of course, he wouldn’t be as lenient had he found Harry or Hermione. She thought about it for a second and smiled when she noticed him getting uncomfortable.

“Let’s make a deal, Draco. The next Hogsmeade trip is a week from tomorrow. If you don’t bully anybody during the week, I’ll go out with you,” she proposed.

She noticed his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?” he groaned.

(Y/N) crossed her arms, amusedly. “Why would I want to go out with somebody that messes with my brother and my friends?”

He considered her for a while and then sighed in defeat.

…

“Is it true that you agreed to go out on a date with Malfoy?” Ron asked in alarm the next morning.

“I didn’t agree,” (Y/N) shot back as she put food on her plate.

Harry was looking at her disapprovingly and she was doing her best to avoid his gaze.

“You agreed to go out with him if he went a week without bullying us,” Hermione interjected with a reproving tone.

“That I did.”

“(Y/N)!” Harry roared.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to not be bullied for a change?” she asked him innocently.

“If the cost is that git snogging my sister then no, it wouldn’t be nice.”

(Y/N) gave him a stern look.

“What? That is what happens on dates, (Y/N).”

“Then you should hurry up and ask Cho Chang to one as well.”

She tried to be humorous, but it clearly didn’t work, so she tried to reason with him instead.

“Come on, Harry. It would hardly be a date,” she said while holding her twin’s hands, “besides, I know Draco can be a nice person if he tries. He has been to me in potions. Why not give him a second chance?”

Harry scoffed. “Why would I ever give that tosser a second chance? He has been messing with us since our first day here!”

They looked at each other and for a moment they had one of their silent conversations. Hermione and Ron stared as Harry failed to be stern and (Y/N) conveyed compassion in her eyes. As always, Harry gave in.

“You’re too kind for your own good, you know that?” he sighed, “and I mean it this time, if that prick does something to you I am going to kill him.”

…

“Which one’s better, ‘Mione?” (Y/N) asked as she held one dress in each hand.

Hermione helped her best friend get ready for her date. As much as she disliked Draco, the week events had made her realize he truly wanted to go out with (Y/N). Throughout the week, Harry and Ron taunted the Slytherin in hopes that he snapped at them, thus ruining the date before it even took place. Hermione had frowned upon their Machiavellian plan, but had not intervened nor rat them out. As the days went by, though, she noticed how hard he was trying to be good. He looked the other way as the Gryffindor boys laughed and teased. He avoided making snarky remarks in class. Once, he even helped Hermione when she tripped and fell.

It had been a very hard week, but he had succeeded. Now he waited awkwardly by the portrait for (Y/N), who arrived a few minutes later. She looked as beautiful as ever with a pretty floral dress. They smiled at each other and walked out of the castle, this time with the regulatory distance according to Umbridge’s decree.

As they made their way to Hogsmeade, (Y/N) thought this could possibly be the most awkward date of her life. It didn’t help that it would probably her first real date ever. What could they have in common apart from their shared space in potions? What would they talk about? Then, she noticed how Draco was fidgeting with his fingers. She found that cute and it made her instantly relax.

As they sat at the Three Broomsticks, all of their collective fears of a bad date were soon proved wrong. They had a great time together. They talked about their favourite candies, their favourite pastimes, quidditch. Draco asked about her life as a muggle with genuine curiosity. She was actually very blunt about her situation at home, something that both marvelled and unsettled him. They laughed and made jokes and got theatrical together.

They walked back to the castle hand in hand. Once they reached the school, Draco dragged (Y/N) through some less frequented corridors. Engrossed in their conversation as they were, they failed to notice the Gryffindor trio following them. Harry and Ron were absolutely enraged as they saw the couple stop behind a column. Hermione had to restrain them when Draco put his hand on (Y/N)’s cheek. She squeezed their arms as the blond boy leaned in and gave (Y/N) a kiss she happily corresponded.

Harry was livid. His baby sister had her arms around that slimy git’s neck. He wanted to rip his head off.

“Hardly a date my arse,” he muttered under his breath.

tags: @cleopatera @okaydraco @naomi02hook @the--queen-of-hell @honeymarvel @the-hufflefluffwriter

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

Text

Journey to the Past - Prologue

Joe!Dimitri x Anastasia!Reader

Summary: The royal family is overthrown in a violent revolution. However, rumor grows that one daughter survived. Could the last of the line be found? Will a con man and a princess put a twist on what it means to live a fairy tale?

Word Count: 1.4k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @queen-paladin, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf, @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Here we go the Anastasia story! I’m drawing from both the movie and the musical, and it’s still tied to the other three Fairy Tale stories, and you’ll find out how more specifically later on. Hope y’all enjoy :)

Warning(s): Mild descriptions of violence.

Moodboard

Prologue here we go!!!

The screams were terrifying. But the silence afterward haunted him forever.

The family had no idea the resistance knew of their hideaway in Ice Hollow. The frigid, northern tip of the kingdom was not where many would assume the royals had a vacation home. But it was actually reserved for times like this, when their safety was in question. The house there was a secret known only to the royals themselves and those closest to them. But the resistance had that information directly from the source.

Pasha stood outside the window, the medallion around his neck, glowing green and smoky with excitement. He was so close...so close now to my revenge, Drago thrummed against Pasha’s chest. Pasha looked down harshly, tucking the medallion under his shirt. They could not risk the family spotting them because Drago was beside himself.

Inside, Pasha saw the family. Alexandra sat rocking the young boy, Prince Alexei. The four daughters were spread throughout the room. Olga, the eldest, sat close to her mother and was knitting. Tatiana, the next child, was tinkering on the piano. Maria, the third daughter, was doing some embroidery. Anastasia, the youngest daughter, was curled up on the couch by the fire, reading. The King sat beside her, looking into the flames and stroking her hair absentmindedly.

The unrest of the country had aged King Nicholas. Lines across his forehead showed how often it was creased. Gray hair dusted his head and beard, which he smoothed with his free hand. His eyes had a far-off look about them. Little did he know, they would soon be even further off. Staring at nothing. Empty.

Pasha turned when he heard his comrades walk back over to him. There were ten men, all sent here for the same purpose, with Pasha in command. They regrouped a few yards away from the house so they could report what they saw.

“The house is unguarded, sir,” said the second in command. “At least it is now.”

He held up a bloody bayonet and snickered.

“The fools really thought two sentries were enough?”

“Good work,” Pasha praised. “How many servants are present?”

“Just three,” another answered. “Two women and a boy in the kitchen. Should we have taken them out?”

Pasha shook his head. “No, those people are not our enemies. We’ll enter down in the kitchen, let them run, and then take care of business with the family.”

They nodded. Pasha held each of their gazes a moment, searching for even a hint of hesitation. He found none. Each of them knew their role, and ones who had a specific family member assigned to them knew what to do. It was time to put on their masks and move in.

Guns raised, they circled around to the servant’s entrance. The door was unlocked and it led right into the kitchen. Pasha led the way, and when the cooks saw him and his men, they gasped, but he held a finger to his lips. A redheaded boy that was maybe ten years old was pushed behind one of the women’s skirts.

“You have five minutes,” Pasha whispered. “To run. If we find you here later, we will be out of mercy.”

They nodded. Although, Pasha saw a flash of refusal in the boy’s face. Without another word, the woman in front of him took his hand, and they all departed out the door and into the snow, taking only their coats and scarves. Pasha knew they would not dare alert the family.

The men crept up the stairs. The one behind Pasha stumbled, causing a loud thump. They all came to a halt as Pasha shot him a warning glare. He was certain the family would think nothing of this, but they couldn’t be too careful. If one thing went wrong…

They pressed on. The parlor was just off to the right when you came up the stairs. Pasha and his men slowly approached. The medallion throbbed again. The coming bloodshed pleased the spirit inside it immensely. Drago’s eagerness spread to his host.

They stopped outside the parlor door. Pasha could hear the fire crackling. The king’s voice could be heard for a moment. Then some footsteps.

Now, Pasha! Drago urged.

Pasha raised his foot and kicked the door in. The family gave a start as the men entered, surrounding them with muzzles trained. Alexandra tried to cover her boy with her body. The older girls dove toward the couch. The king stood in the center of the room, refusing to lower his proud head.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“King Nicholas,” Pasha began. “We are here to answer a warrant.”

The blood drained from Nicholas’s face.

“We the members of the resistance sentence King Nicholas Lee, and all his house to death,” Pasha continued. “By firing squad.”

“Please,” the king said levelly. “Let my family go, I’ll abdicate, you can take me, just don’t hurt them.”

“It’s too late for negotiations,” Pasha said. “Now, everyone, on your feet!”

The others shouted at the girls and the wife and son to obey. Trembling, they did. Pasha noticed however, the look of defiance on the youngest daughter’s face. The family was lined up in the center of the room. Alexandra and Olga were weeping. Tatiana and Maria were holding each other’s hands. Alexei leaned against his mother’s leg. The king stood next to Anastasia, the pair of them holding their heads high.

Pasha stood before Nicholas. Each assigned gunman stood directly in front of their designated family member. The others stood back, rifles aimed at Nicholas.

“Your Majesty, Drago sends his regards,” Pasha said, and he felt his chest burn with the satisfaction from the medallion.

And with that, he pulled the trigger.

However, the king was the only family member to immediately drop to the ground. Pasha looked down the line and saw that chaos had broken out. Anastasia was grappling with the man who was supposed to shoot her. The other girls had seen her resistance and followed suit, though Olga and Tatiana were bleeding from their arms. Maria from her leg. Alexandra was sinking slowly to the floor, clutching her stomach. Alexei lay still beside her.

The medallion raged along with Pasha. He stepped over and slammed the butt of his rifle into the back of Anastasia’s head. A shot went off from behind him as she went to the ground, and he saw blood begin to pool at her shoulder. The whole room was suddenly a mess of screams and shots. Bayonets and daggers were drawn shortly after, so the gunmen would not shoot their own group. Pasha took Maria by the hair and brought his bayonet right across her throat. The other girls were finally subdued by the others, and lay still on the floor, not even breathing. Alexandra was struggling to draw breath and trying to shrink away from the onslaught. Pasha retrieved his pistol and fired it directly between her eyes. She slumped over, still.

He rounded on his men.

“You sloppy idiots!” he barked. “You had one job, and you were nearly stopped by children?!”

“Sir,” one of the men said, stopping a tirade before it started. “This girl’s still alive.”

He was kneeling beside Anastasia. He rolled her over and she moaned.

Pasha huffed irritably, marched over, and drove his bayonet into her side. She cried out and then finally, lay still. The last of the Lee family was gone. It was eerily quiet. As if the whole world had stopped breathing. Pasha felt suffocated by the heavy silence.

“Let’s get out of here,” he spat. “Before you all screw up anything else.”

They all jogged out of the parlor, and then out the front door. Two men grabbed the drums of gasoline that were waiting outside and poured it at the edge of the house. Then Pasha lit a match and dropped it. It ignited the house in flames - the final disposal of evidence. Not that anyone would even know where to look for the royals, but just in case. Then, they all piled into a waiting truck and drove out into the forest.

None of them noticed the redheaded boy sneaking back to the house, breaking a window, and climbing in.

Pasha was momentarily consumed with Drago’s thoughts and feelings. It was done. The country was his now. Then, the host felt a bit sick.

The screams were terrifying. But the silence afterward haunted him forever.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x you #John Deacon #John deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon x you #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap cast imagine #borhap cast x you #borhap boys #borhap boys x reader #borhap boys imagine #borhap boys x you #journey to the past series

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awkwardpenguinproductions · 4 years

Text

Camaraderie

Part 4 of the Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

Spring is in the air, as Kai likes to “sing”. The accursed snow is gone, and each day is a little warmer than the one before. Zuko barely notices.

The winter has flown by once he began training with his squad and with Master Ryoichi in earnest. He had begun measuring time not in hours or days or weeks, but in how many pushups he could do at a time, how far he could draw his bow to his anchor point, and how much longer it would be before the Master would introduce a new form. Nobody treats him like he's useless, even if he can't yet shoot with any degree of consistent accuracy. Kai and Jiyoti and Mika are always down to watch him demonstrate his firebending, and the awe and excitement on their faces makes Zuko feel like he can do anything. Even if Commander Toshiaki's dialed back his "missions" to test the Stronghold's security, Zuko's too busy training with his squad, joking around with Kai, and helping out with the komodo-rhinos and the messenger hawks to really care. He's pretty sure of his place with the Archers now, for the most part, and if Agni forbid he does manage to get kicked out, he can mostly take care of himself now. It would hurt, but it wouldn't be the end of the world.

It doesn’t register what day it is until he gets down to the mess for breakfast and sees the calendar. He freezes like a fox-antelope facing down a saber-toothed moose lion. His scar burns.

It’s been a year.

At noon today, it will be a year to the hour that Zuko begged his father for mercy on the floor of the Agni Kai arena, and got a face full of fire for his weakness.

Zuko can’t breathe.

A hand lands gently on his shoulder, and Zuko flinches with his entire body like he hasn’t done in weeks, in months. The hand shifts like it’s going to pull away, then resettles, firmer yet still gentle. Another hand taps between his shoulder blades, waits, then pats, waits, then pats with more force, until Zuko takes a tearing, ragged, gasping breath. The hand on his back rubs up and down his spine, soothing as Zuko wheezes though the buzzard-wasp drone of panic engulfing his body.

After what feels like an eternity, Zuko comes back to himself to find all the members of Chihese Squad gathered around him. Mika has him wrapped loosely in her arms, one hand on his shoulder and the other rubbing his back. Kai stands close enough to touch, dark Yuyan eyes wide and and worried. Jiyoti and Captain Hiroki are flanking the trio, the tension in their bodies screaming “don’t come anywhere near us!”.

Kai sees him looking around and smiles. Back with us, Danger Noodle? He signs.

Zuko swallows against his parched throat and nods.

You wanna talk about it, kid? Captain Hiroki asks. When Zuko shakes his head sharply, the older man nods. Alright then, let’s eat before we’re late for PT.

The last thing Zuko wants to do is eat, but being hungry makes him anxious, so he follows his squad to the tables where the mess staff lay out food. When Mika shoots him a Look, Zuko sighs and grabs a bowl of okayu, about the only thing he can stomach at times like these.

At the table, Jiyoti passes around cups of tea. The scent of jasmine nearly brings tears to Zuko’s eyes, and he can’t bring himself to do more than clutch the cup and ache with longing for his uncle’s calm, fragrant tea room in the palace.

A bao appears under his nose, and Zuko looks up to see Kai holding it out with a small, sad smile on his face. He places it beside Zuko’s untouched bowl of okayu and signs, You need to eat something, Zuko. Come on, it’s sweet bean, your favorite.

Zuko can’t say no to that face, even though his stomach is writhing like a nest of two-headed rat-vipers. He nibbles on the bao while the rest of the squad signs over his head. For once, he doesn't even try to keep up with the conversations, just keeps his eyes glued to his bao. Once that's gone, he slumps down, feeling like his whole body is wrapped in iron plating, making it nearly impossible to move. Someone scoots his okayu closer, and with what feels like a monumental effort, he starts spooning it up in tiny, slow bites.

He's halfway through the bowl when he just can't eat any more, and pushes it quietly away. Kai rubs his shoulder, and Zuko leans into the touch. His scar doesn't burn as bad anymore, but he still feels numb to the rest of his body, and Kai's touch is like a strong ray of sunshine in a frozen wasteland.

As one, the squad rises from the table, with Zuko half a step behind. They walk, Kai's arm now wrapped firmly around Zuko's shoulders as though to keep him from floating away, and Zuko doesn't really pay attention to where they're going until they're on the training fields.

The movements of the conditioning and strengthening exercises ease some of the weight on his body and bring some awareness back to his mind, so he feels almost normal by the time the Troop moves on to the archery range. The repetitive aim-pull-loose of shooting is very soothing. He's still learning how to aim consistently, so his arrows are a bit all over the place, but they're all in the target, so that's improvement, he guesses.

The time flies, and soon it's time to stop for lunch. Zuko's appetite has reemerged, and he manages an entire bowl of spicy noodles, much to his squad's relief.

Afterward, he heads over to where the firebenders do their training. He's the only one in the Stronghold who's still technically "in training" under Master Ryoichi, so his lessons are one-on-one, but there's always firebenders in the practice yard doing their own training. Today the practice yard is much less crowded than normal, and the people training there shoot him friendly smiles or nods but otherwise keep their distance, which Zuko appreciates. He's still feeling off from whatever happened this morning, and he just wants to do what he needs to do and be done with today.

Master Ryoichi raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't comment on whatever is concerning about his appearance. They go through warm ups, review past forms, and the Master drills him on a new sequence that seems to twist his muscles up in knots. The Master's teaching style reminds him quite a lot of Uncle Iroh's––he only very rarely shouts, usually because something really dangerous is happening, but is otherwise soft-spoken and shockingly gentle for a Firebending Master. He only touches Zuko when he absolutely has to, to correct his stances and forms, and is positive and encouraging with him, something the palace masters Before had never been.

They end the training session with sparring, which Zuko loves. When he first started training with Master Ryoichi, sparring was a terrifying concept–– the palace masters never missed the opportunity to use it to force him to meet impossible expectations, and then berate him when he inevitably failed. But Master Ryoichi never expects more from Zuko than he can give, and has slowly made Zuko realize that sparring can be fun. The first (and so far only) time Zuko had managed to put the Master on the ground, the older man had grinned and congratulated him on his clever technique. The last time he'd won against one of the palace masters, the man had berated him for half an hour on how the win had been a fluke and how Zuko was a disgrace to firebenders everywhere.

This spar starts out simple, with the Master sending Zuko fireballs to practice his blocks and redirects, and Zuko returning fire with the intention of breaking the Master's rooted stance. Every so often the Master will call out tips and corrections and encouragement, and Zuko will do his best to comply, feeling a grin stretch across his face. They start coming in closer, using the fire-daggers technique that the Master had taught him a few weeks ago, a more advanced move that the palace masters would never have considered teaching Zuko Before.

Zuko gets distracted wondering if he could possibly firebend with his dao, and suddenly finds himself flat on his back on the ground, Master Ryoichi's flame-wreathed fist inches from his face. The Master's face morphs in a split second into Father's, sneering and cold, and Zuko's scar bursts back to life as his eyes squeeze shut.

He can't help himself.

Zuko screams.

He hears voices, feels hands on his shoulders, head, back, but Zuko is lost in fire and pain and terror so complete that he's blind and deaf to everything but his pulse roaring in his ears. He can't breathe, and his heart feels like it's going to punch its way right out of his chest, and all he can think is not again not again not again Father please not again NOT AGAIN!

A hand touches his face, and Zuko cries out and blindly swipes fire through the air. Someone shouts, and he whimpers and curls his body up tight, waiting for a beating, for a burn, for something that he knows is going to happen and is going to hurt. He's crying, sobbing in terror, and his whole body is shaking like a sapling in a wind storm, and his scar hurts like the day he got it, a year ago today.

He doesn't know how long he's like this before the waves of terror ebb away, leaving him limp and exhausted on the ground. He has a headache the size of Ba Sing Se, his scar still hurts like when it was fresh, and his shoulders and neck are sore from tension.

"Back with us, Cadet?" Dr. Atsuko's voice sounded like it was coming from far away, and Zuko opened his eyes to find her kneeling primly just out of arm's reach on the ground, right in his line of sight. Kai and Captain Hiroki are sat on either side of her, with Mika and Jiyoti just behind them. Kai is dead white under his Yuyan tan, and Jiyoti's eyes are wide and watery, while Mika and Captain Hiroki just look grim and worried.

"Master Ryoichi sent for me about an hour ago, after he couldn't get you to respond to him," she continues, dark bronze eyes assessing him keenly. "Can I check you over?"

Zuko gulps. He's not sure how he feels about being touched right now, but he's also a little weirded out that he apparently lost an hour. No wonder he's so sore.

"I'll be gentle," Dr. Atsuko assures him, and actually smiles. It looks a little strange coming from the stoic CMO, but it's small and a little lopsided and softens her face incredibly, and Zuko is immediately reminded of his mother and his heart aches.

He nods, just barely, and Dr. Atsuko's cool hands touch various spots on his body with exquisite gentleness. Zuko's skin still crawls though, and he shuts his eyes and tries not to flinch.

Snapping fingers make him open them again, and he looks at Kai, who's still pale but has a smaller, comforting version of his usual broad grin on his face.

Good to see you, Danger Noodle, he signs slowly, making sure that Zuko can see each movement of his hands. You had us worried there for a bit.

Zuko's heart sinks. He really screwed up this time, making his squad worry. Doggedly ignoring the stiffness in his arms, he balls a fist and rubs it weakly in a circle on his chest.

"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about, kid," Dr. Atsuko declares sharply. "You had a really bad panic attack, and you don't need any additional stress right now. Captain Hiroki is going to take you back to the dorm and you are going straight to bed. This idiot––" she reaches back and smacks Kai on the back of the head, causing the older teen to pout "––is going to keep his hands still if he can't keep his foot out of his mouth."

Captain Hiroki leans forward. Can I help you up, Cadet?

Zuko doesn't really understand why people keep asking if they can touch him, but he appreciates the warning, so he nods slowly and takes the hand that the Captain extends to him. The older man easily pulls him to his feet, but Zuko's knees feel like water and don't want to hold his weight. He lets out an undignified squeak as he starts to fall, but Kai is there immediately, looping one of Zuko's arms around his neck and wrapping one of his own around Zuko's waist. When Zuko blinks at him in surprise, Kai just gives him a small, apologetic smile. Mika slips into place on Zuko's other side, and the pair of them basically carry Zuko back to the dorm, following Captain Hiroki who seems to be clearing their path with the force of his presence alone.

They make it back to the Yuyan dorm and tuck Zuko into his bunk. Jiyoti spreads Zuko's koala-sheep wool cloak over him, then his regular blanket, because the entire squad knows how much Zuko hates being cold.

Hey, Zuko, can I sit with you? Asks Mika. Zuko nods, a little confused. His squad has guard duty soon, shouldn't they be getting ready?

Mika settles herself beside Zuko and drops a hand onto his head. Zuko's hair is nearly long enough for a real topknot, and Mika strokes it like he's a pygmy puma kitten. Zuko freezes in shock before melting into the touch. He hasn't had someone do this since before Mom left.

Jiyoti asks if she can sit on his other side, and he nods vaguely, too busy enjoying Mika's petting to pay any real attention. Kai doesn't even ask before he clambers onto the foot of the bunk, sitting in lotus position and grinning widely at all of them.

Damn, Danger Noodle, getting all the ladies! He signs. Jiyoti and Mika glare at him, and Captain Hiroki smacks him on the back of the head.

I'm going to report to Commander Toshiaki that we're going to need to be taken off duty rotation for at least today, the Captain announces. Anybody need anything from the mess?

Zuko needs fire-flakes, Kai declares. Zuko considers kicking him, but in the end decides against it, because really, he's not wrong on a normal day, but right now he can't even think about eating. Jiyoti's glare intensifies though, and she kicks him instead.

Stop being obnoxious, Kai! She demands.

Here's a wild notion, Mika signs, turning a deadpan look on Kai. Zuko immediately misses her hand in his hair, but Jiyoti takes over almost seamlessly, scritching gently along his hairline behind his unscarred ear in a way that makes him melt and want to purr like a pygmy puma. How about we ask Zuko what he needs?

What an excellent suggestion, Sergeant, Captain Hiroki replies. Cadet Zuko? Do you need anything to eat or drink?

It takes everything Zuko has, but he limply manages to sign, Water?

Right away, Cadet, the Captain replies, a small smile crossing his face. I'll be right back.

Zuko sinks back into his bunk, Jiyoti and Mika snug against him on each side. He's so tired, but his head is clearer than it's been all day, like that panic attack had swept away all of the tension and fear he'd been carrying since he saw the calendar in the mess hall. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth of his squad around him sink into his bones.

After a while, someone gently pokes his arm, and he opens his eyes to find Commander Toshiaki sitting beside his bunk, sharing a pot of tea with Mika and Captain Hiroki while Kai and Jiyoti bicker. The Commander's eyes meet his own, and the older man puts his cup down.

Just wanted to check in on you after hearing Captain Hiroki's and Dr. Atsuko's reports, he signs, slow and calm. How are you feeling, Cadet?

Zuko takes inventory, finds himself still tired but not as blah as before, and shrugs. Mika pours him some water from a nearby pitcher, which feels incredible on his parched throat.

Hey Danger Noodle, up for some fire-flakes? Kai asks, holding out a small pouch.

"Don't you give him that shit, Private!" Dr. Atsuko's voice snaps out like a whip, and even though it makes Zuko jump, the way Kai jerks and flails and drops the bag of fire-flakes makes Zuko grin. Kai pouts first at Zuko, then at Dr. Atsuko.

Sorry Doc, Kai signs petulantly.

"You'll be even more sorry if he eats those and then throws them back up on you," Dr. Atsuko replies as she sets a tray down on the table between Zuko's bunk and Kai's. Sitting on the tray is a small copper pot and a bowl. "If he is ready, he's going to start with some broth first so we don't shock his system."

Zuko catches the scent of the broth and his stomach immediately growls like a tigerdillo. The entire squad and Commander Toshiaki all grin, and even Dr. Atsuko cracks a smile as she ladles broth into the bowl.

"That's definitely a good sign," she comments as she holds the bowl out. Zuko scrambles to sit up, and eagerly takes the bowl from her. It's just a simple chicken broth, probably the base for whatever the mess cooks are going to serve for dinner tonight, but it's warm and delicious, and he feels more normal after drinking it than he has all day.

Kai starts telling a story about his first encounter with a komodo-rhino, exaggerating his signs and making all kinds of stupid faces that has the whole squad grinning and laughing silently. Zuko finishes his broth and snuggles down between Mika and Jiyoti, watching Kai and then Captain Hiroki tell stories and feeling wonderfully warm and safe.

And then Master Ryoichi steps into the dorm, and stops a few feet away from Zuko's bunk. Zuko immediately tenses upon seeing him, and Mika and Jiyoti both notice. Mika's hand goes to the knife she always has at the small of her back, and Jiyoti wraps an arm around Zuko's shoulders.

The Master forms the Flame and bows deeply. "I only wish to convey my apologies to Cadet Zuko, and wish him a speedy recovery," he says. "I should have known better than to hold fire so close to such a terrible wound. Please forgive me, my brave pupil."

Zuko blinks, but nods hesitantly.

Master Ryoichi favors him with a small smile. "Thank you, Pupil Zuko. You honor me. I hope to see you on the training field tomorrow."

Kai jumps to his feet, eyes narrowed in fury, stance wide and shoulders back in indignation. Are you kidding me?! That's crazy! He shouldn't ever have to firebend again if he doesn't want to! Not if it makes him scream and cry for an hour like he did today!

Captain Hiroki snaps his fingers, and Kai snaps to attention, entire body rigid. Private, you are out of line! Apologize to Master Ryoichi at once!

"It's alright, Captain, he's only trying to protect his friend," Master Ryoichi soothes. "Private Kai, what happened today was unfortunate, but one cannot let fear dictate what one does or doesn't do. Cadet Zuko is a firebender. This is a truth that cannot be changed or circumvented. The sooner he faces and overcomes that which makes him afraid, the better off he will be."

It's okay, Kai, Zuko signs. He's touched by his best friend's protectiveness, but Master Ryoichi is right. He can't have a panic attack anytime a little fire gets too close to his face.

He turns to his firebending teacher and bows with the Flame. I will report for training at our regular time, Sifu Ryoichi.

Master Ryoichi grins. "I'm honored by your trust in me, Pupil Zuko. I will see you then. Rest well."

Goodnight, Master Ryoichi, the rest of the squad sign in unison, and the firebending master bows and leaves.

Hey Zuko, did I ever tell you about the time I put an eel in my older brother's bed? Kai asks.

No, tell me! Zuko demands, snuggling down again between Mika and Jiyoti.

Well, it all started because he'd threatened to braid my bowstrings into a fishing net…

Zuko grins as Kai mimics the snooty look on his older brother's face, pretending to scold the younger Kai for spending too much time with his bow. Jiyoti shudders with disgust as he describes wrestling the eel into his brother's futon, and Mika hides her smirk behind a badly constructed expression of disapproval. Captain Hiroki just sighs and keeps Zuko's water cup full.

Dinner time comes and goes, but his squad never leaves his side, until the signal for bunk-time sounds. One by one, his squad members leave to get ready for bed, but they always wait for the absent member to come back before the next person leaves, and soon they're all in their night-clothes but otherwise look like they haven't moved in hours. When the signal for lights out sounds, Jiyoti and Mika reluctantly head to their own bunks, but Kai stubbornly refuses, laying down on top of the blankets and wrapping Zuko in his strong arms. Zuko falls asleep to his best friend's snores.

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#atla #atla fanfic #awkpenproductions presents #dragon of the yuyan #part 4 camaraderie #full text post

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