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chuluoyi · 2 months

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yours, indefinitely

- geto suguru x reader

each memorable and meaningful moment shared by the two of you during your journey to parenthood ♡

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact! (yes i can't resist it) pregnancy, a lot of comfort and love, insecurities, hurt/comfort, a dash of crack, soft!geto, massive and absolute fluff !!

note: based on this and this. this... is an idea i got after writing drabbles about soft dad gojo :') you all know this is my first time writing geto and the first time in a while i'm writing a longer fic so i'm having a lot of doubts but i hope you'll enjoy it!! wc. 3k !

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When you found out that you were five weeks pregnant, you were genuinely conflicted for two reasons— one, it was unexpected as you weren't even married yet, and two, you were anxious about your boyfriend's reaction to the news.

But contrary to your worries and fears, doubts and tears... Geto Suguru marries you. He led you to the city hall almost immediately— and just like that, in the eyes of the law, you were officially husband and wife.

Because he has always known that he wants to share his life with you, and with this newfound responsibility, it only reinforces his conviction that he wants that kind of forever with you.

MONTH TWO

Your pregnancy wasn't a breeze—no pregnancy is, to be exact—and you had resigned yourself to mornings of throwing up, but you definitely didn't expect that you would get so sick to the point of almost passing out in the bathroom.

You never wanted Suguru to see you like this, but when a strong arm got a hold of you and pulled back your hair, your heart soared regardless.

"Hey, you okay?" Suguru asked, clear worry lined in his eyes. It was five in the morning—he must've been awoken by the ruckus you caused in the bathroom.

When you heaved a breath and nodded, his frown deepened. "Why didn't you call me?"

"N-no, Sugu—" the words barely left your lips before the overwhelming urge to retch hit you again and you doubled over the toilet bowl.

Suguru maintained a steady hold on your body, and not once did he waver even when you puked your guts out. His grip only loosened when you were done, supporting you up and assisting you in rinsing your mouth at the sink.

"Do you feel better?" he asked gently, dabbing your mouth with a tissue. "Do you want me to get you some water?"

"Suguru, you don't have to—" you untangled yourself from him feebly, still feeling faint. "It stinks here—"

"I have to," he reinforced, gaze boring straight at you. "Do you really think a smelly bathroom will stop me?"

“I d-don't want to trouble you...”

Suguru sighed and the next thing you knew, you found yourself being lifted in a princess carry, his hands securely under your knees. Surprised, you let out a yelp. "Suguru! P-put me down!"

"I'm telling you, you should trouble me," he pursed his lips together, face inching closer to yours, his dark eyes captivating, almost drawing you in. "We're in this together, remember?"

And in that very second, the sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and with it a renewed sense of love you had for this man, once just a figure you admired from afar and now, wholly your husband.

"Yeah..." you responded with a soft smile, completely unaware that Suguru cherished seeing that expression on your face more than anything else.

MONTH THREE

When you reached the third month, you thank all heavenly deities out there that your nausea was getting much better.

But in its place was your outrageous craving requests that more often than not sent Suguru into a daze.

"Wha? Say that again?" he looked at you with twitching eyes, mostly in disbelief. "You can't seriously ask me to... get what?"

"Ice cream with lemon toothpaste flavor," you looked at him with sad puppy eyes, almost resembling that glassy-eyed emoji. "It seemed tasty, Suguru... I want it."

His immediate response was clear this time. "No. Love, that... I doubt that combination even exists."

"Hmph... but baby wants it."

"But—!"

"Or I'll just get the toothpaste and—"

"No! Absolutely no!" okay, this was crazy, but Suguru would figure it out, somehow. "You can't eat toothpaste! I'll get it for you, okay!"

"Teehee~" your small giggle actually made his head spin even further, but if it meant you and your baby's wellbeing, Geto Suguru would cross the roads and did something to get you that non-existent ice cream.

In the end, he settled for mint and orange (because the parlor ran out of lemon) to recreate the nonsense of lemon toothpaste flavor. But when you tasted it, your eyes welled up with tears though.

“This... doesn't taste like toothpaste or lemon,” you sniffled, feeling betrayed. “Suguru, you liar.”

. . . oh, and here goes round two of wild goose chase of recreating edible ice cream for you and the baby. Sigh.

MONTH FOUR

With each passing day, your belly swelled, becoming increasingly prominent and rounder. And you wouldn’t believe it but the pregnancy glow was there—through your husband’s eyes, you looked most radiant, carrying his baby.

And it multiplied more when he saw you interact with his two girls.

"Miss Y/N, is it a boy or a girl?" Nanako inquired, touching your bump, her voice filled with excitement.

"Ah, we haven't found out yet..." you patted her in the head, quite touched that now she cared for you this much too. "What do you think it's going to be, Nanako-chan?"

"Ooh, it has to be a boy! If it's a boy, surely he'll be as handsome as Master Geto!"

Mimiko, ever the calmer of the two, hummed. "Hmm, personally I think it's going to be a girl."

"Ehh? If it's a girl... I guess, yeah— at least she's going to be cute!"

Maybe it was your hormones at play, but your spirits dampened somewhat when you noticed how Nanako leaned more towards the prospect of baby brother. The thought lingered in your mind even later that night on your marital bed, as Suguru spooned you from behind.

“Come to think about it, I think we can find out the gender right about now…” you mused, stroking your belly absentmindedly. “Suguru, do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

Suguru chuckled, placing his warm, bigger hand over yours on your growing tummy. “Hmm, you first. What do you think?”

"Honestly... a girl. At least, if it were up to me, I want a girl though."

"Ah, cute." Suguru felt his smile broaden at the very idea. "Mimiko and Nanako will get an adorable sister to play dress up with."

You nibbled your lower lip. "But you'd want a boy, wouldn't you?"

"Hm? No," he responded almost immediately. "Quite the opposite, actually. I'm with you on this one. A girl would be nice."

"Even when you already have the twins?"

"Another baby girl— what's so bad with that?" Suguru sighed against your neck, his palm still tenderly caressing your belly. "One who will look like you—the woman whom I love the most... what are you worried about?"

One thing you loved about Suguru was his eloquence. His words had the power to persuade you, even when they seemed at odds with your own beliefs. And more often than not, his words were always aimed to make you feel safe.

And right now, you couldn't have loved him more.

. . .

In your next checkup, as if the gods were all granting your wish all this time— you're having a girl.

MONTH FIVE

“Why won’t she kick?” Suguru pressed his ears on your tummy on the bed, brows knitting together.

You grinned. “She was quite lively a little while ago. She's probably resting now.”

Suguru pursed his lips into a pout, snuggling closer to your round belly. “Hmm, little one, can you hear me? Just one kick for papa, please?”

Moments like this were ones you cherished the most. Your husband's love for your unborn child always filled your heart with warmth.

“She’s not responding.” Suguru sat up with a gentle sigh, a hint of disappointment shadowing his expression. Yet, he quickly mustered a warm smile for you. “Tired after bothering mama, huh?”

Suddenly, you let out a hearty chuckle. “You know, Suguru… I think our baby resembles you.”

He blinked in puzzlement. “Eh? How so?”

“She’s so peaceful, hardly causes me any discomfort lately—she’s idyllic, just like you.” You could feel your face getting warm but you just had to say this to your husband.

Suguru was visibly taken aback, but then the hints of pink tinted his face as he smiled. “Well… I’m glad that it’s been a smooth experience for you so far.”

Your heart swelled at his tender, genuine smile. Then, as if on cue, you felt the familiar stirrings and flutter inside—

“Suguru!”

You caught his hand and placed it on your tummy, just in time for your daughter to kick.

Suguru’s eyes sparkled with awe. "Did she just—?"

It was a profound moment for him, feeling the tangible sign of the new life you both had created. And as your laughter filled the room, light and joyful, Suguru knew with unwavering certainty—

He would do everything in his power to protect you and this baby. Who had become his whole world now.

MONTH SIX

It began as one ordinary day— before came the most horrific incident Suguru never thought would happen to you.

He got a call that you had passed out in the train station. Suguru had never truly known fear until then, feeling every hair on his body stand on end. The details he was provided were frustratingly vague, and he desperately tried not to think the worst.

He was teetering on the edge of a panic attack as he made his way towards the hospital you were brought to. The mere possibility of anything harmful happening to either you or the baby was unbearable. He didn't allow himself to consider any negative outcomes, driven by the need to be by your side.

By the time he arrived, you had regained consciousness, though you were still drifting in and out, clinging onto your swimming consciousness.

"Are you okay? Love, talk to me." Suguru got a hold of your hand as soon as he arrived, voice trembling. "What happened?"

"Suguru..." you managed to reply in feeble voice, still feeling the dull pounding in your temples. You could feel him squeeze your hand tighter. "I-I'm sorry... to m-make you worry..."

"Why are you saying sorry?" Suguru gritted his teeth in frustration. Always putting others first, he loved and sometimes hated that trait of yours. He stroked your hair. "Tell me how you feel. Do you feel better? Or should I call the doctor?"

Seeing how deeply concerned he was for both you and your baby brought a tear to your eyes. "I'm f-fine... just a little dizzy is all."

Once the doctor examined you and determined that you needed to stay in the hospital for a day due to low blood pressure, Suguru was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

"You really, really scared me," he said in a raspy voice. "So many things could've gone wrong. What if you fell into the tracks instead? You would— I —" his voice actually hitched. "I could've lost both of you today."

At his words, a new flood of tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you couldn't help but sniffle. Suguru immediately comforted you.

“You’re okay, you’re okay… Don’t cry, please.” He cradled your face gently, thinking he had spooked you. “Just rest. I’m here,” and his other hand rubbed your belly for reassurance. “You and the baby are safe.”

Through this, you realized once again just how secure you were, with him.

MONTH SEVEN

You had been taking the prenatal classes lately—Suguru insisted on it because there was nothing he wouldn't spare for you— and the reality once again sank into you that you were going to have a little human to love and care soon.

"You need to hold her like this..." the friendly instructor guided, positioning her hand on the back of the doll's head. "Be gentle when washing the head, and make sure not to scratch her—"

Now you were once again learning how to bathe the baby. It felt complicated at first, but after the fifth session, you were getting the hang of it.

Not the case with Suguru though. He seemed to be genuinely struggling.

"No, sir! You're going to drown her like that!" the instructor gasped in horror, pulling the baby doll out of your husband's grasp. "I'm sorry, but the way you're holding her is too risky! You have to lower her slowly—"

It brought a wide smile on your face. It was a rare sight to see him not being good at what he was doing, so seeing him totally confused like this was refreshing.

"This is... not quite as easy as it looks," he let out a long sigh, still trying to wash the doll's head as gently as he was instructed. "And I can't really tell when I'm being too rough or not."

"Just imagine it's a real baby, how soft you think you can be?" you advised, almost giggling. "Babies are delicate, sort of like... oh! You can think of them as sensitive as Gojo!"

Suguru gave you a look. "If it were a baby with Satoru's face... I might just flip and toss him away."

And yet despite having a hard time for it, Suguru was persistent in this practice. Because no way was he going to miss out bathing his baby.

MONTH EIGHT

"Suguru... we—" you said in one intake of breath, but unable to continue as he crashed his lips into yours.

With skilled hands, Suguru deftly maneuvered the inside of your maternity sleepwear, unclasping your bra and your breasts—now heavy and full of milk—spilling out.

You didn’t mean to drag him into this. You just made one comment about how you thought that he no longer seemed to desire you as much now and Suguru responded by pulling you into a searing kiss, as if to show you that he, in fact, very much still does.

He groped your left breast and your body spasmed as you let out a hitched moan, writhing under him.

“What part of you—” he drawled, eyes blazing with certain electricity, voice deep and low—and you couldn’t help getting even wetter down there. “—that you said I’m not interested in anymore, mama?”

You mewled, feeling so small under him. You could only whine as he stripped you out of your silken undergarments and let you lay there bare, ready for the taking.

In Suguru’s eyes, you were the most divine. The mother of his child couldn't be less than heavenly. Seeing you so swollen and so full, with everything that was his—made him harder than ever possible.

You would learn it the fast way as his lips latched on your neck, nimble fingers worked through your breasts, and then your pussy—

“Ride me,” he commanded, right after turning you into a wet mush three times and tasting your cum—which was still as sweet as ever. He helped you get up and sat on his hardened member, that slid so easily inside you as you let out a whimper.

Gone was your gentle husband—he always turned into another beast entirely in bed.

“Look at you, sitting so pretty for me like this,” Suguru remarked with a meaningful grin as he placed his hands on both sides of your enormous belly.

“Mmnghh!” you scrunched your eyes shut. The sounds you made were completely beyond your will by now. Everything was just overwhelming you. The way his thick cock sheathed itself inside you and made you feel full, and the way your baby twisted and turned inside you at the same time was mind-blowing— and you haven't even started moving yet.

You could already see it already, how much of a mess you were going to be in once this ended.

Suguru noticed the baby’s rambunctious movement too and lightly tapped the skin of your belly, maintaining his sly smile.

“Oh, baby… forgive your papa and mama and buckle up, yeah? It’s going to be a rough ride for a bit.”

And soon, on one fateful morning, you were awoken by signs of labor, followed by your water breaking and full-blown contractions.

Suguru was beside you the entire time, worriedly hovering over you for support. He held you tight, providing comfort as you curled inwards each time intense contraction gripped your womb like a vice, hardening it into a rock-hard mass. Now is the real deal, he thought. Suddenly he was having doubts himself— he was going to become a parent. Both of you are.

Seeing you subjected to that much pain was almost unbearable, and even more so when your pained cries and screams echoed through the room as you brought your baby into the world, but then, then, suddenly—

His baby girl is here. She fit perfectly in his arms, round and snug in her blanket, with the softest black tufts of hair that she inherited from him. She cooed and mewled in her sleep—

—and Geto Suguru thought, nothing—absolutely nothing else mattered the very moment he laid eyes on his beautiful daughter.

"She is so tiny, so precious," Suguru whispered, his finger gently tracing the soft cheeks of the sleeping baby. Leaning on his shoulder, you could only sigh in awe, marveling at the sight of your husband and your new baby.

"Thank you," he turned to you then, eyes brimming with unshed tears and emotions. For giving me a another person to care for and love.

And you were at your happiest, finding yourself falling in love with your husband all over again, knowing well that he would cherish you with everything he had.

Days and months following the birth of your daughter was hectic and eventful.

Nanako and Mimiko had been a really great help around the house, and they adored your baby daughter more than anything, always taking turns to entertain her and make her all giggly, which brought you to another level of happiness.

And most of all, Suguru had taken his new role as a dad very seriously. You remembered him visibly struggling at baby care classes, but now he was a master of diaper changing and baby bathing— and you wouldn't be surprised if he was even better than you by now.

"Suguru, how are you so great at this all of a sudden?" you genuinely wondered with a literal question mark as you watched him washing your daughter in a bubble bath, her laughter filling the room.

"Hard work and perseverance, love," he replied, his tone light but proud. And you snorted when he gave you a wink.

Your daughter had never been shy to cry her heart out at 3 in the morning too, and each time she did, whenever you were about to leave the bed, Suguru would gently hold you back with a raspy voice, murmuring, "I'll get her. Go back to sleep."

He was the best husband a woman could ask for. Throughout the five months of your postpartum, he always made sure that you stayed hydrated, had a lot of rest and consumed nutritious food to replenish your strength. He always took over the baby-rearing duties whenever possible. You were treated no less than a princess, and honestly you were ever so grateful.

And so this time, despite his willingness, you got up from the bed and went to the baby's room. And the sight there caught your heart—

"There, there..." Suguru's voice was thick with sleep, yet he rocked your daughter back and forth with gentle patience. "Do you want to change your blanket? Is it not comfy for you?"

Your heart softened, melted—perhaps even fluttered away with the wind, turning into mush. When you first discovered a year ago that you were going to have a baby, you could never have anticipated that this was the life you would find yourself in.

Suguru opted to switch the blanket for a new one, but as you watched him fold and unfold it several times, confusion evident on his face, you decided it was time to step in.

"Here, you do it like this," your sudden appearance startled him, as you gently took the fabric away from him and wrapped your fussy daughter in it. "Looks like I finally found something you're still not great at," you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

He was about to usher you back to the bedroom until you said that. "Heh."

You loved this life, and he too wouldn't trade it for the world. In the quiet tranquility of dawn, after both of you had successfully put your baby back to sleep, you spoke, "Thank you... and I love you, Suguru."

But he thought— you shouldn't have to thank him for anything, because after all, Geto Suguru lives for two princesses in his life; you and his baby daughter.

And after this, all that was left was giving you the wedding celebration of your dreams, one that both of you had been setting aside for a while now.

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themuse-if · 4 months

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DEMO (TBA) | Cast Profiles | Cast Interviews-Round 1 | Cast Interviews-Round 2 | The Muse: Spotify

The Muse is a 18+ slice of life interactive fiction novel set at NYU focusing mostly on the art departments in the Steinhardt and Tisch schools. Inspired by my love for shows and movies like Felicity, Fame (the show), Skins UK, and Center Stage. This will not be an accurate depiction of school life at NYU, I'll be taking lots of creative liberties.

Content Warnings: explicit language, sexual themes, substance use, violence, mention of SA

You come from a family of artists and art lovers. Your mother is a passionate curator for a small gallery in the city and your father is a sculptor and painter with a very dedicated cult following. They met when they were just starting out and have built a lovely life for themselves and their two children, you and your older brother Cameron.

Your parents have always been super supportive of you and your brother’s dreams and ambitions. They were a great source of encouragement and guidance for your brother on his path to discovering his goal to become a game designer and you on your path to become whatever you choose.

Growing up surrounded by such creativity just so happened to inspired you to want to create something of your own.

Now that you’ve graduated high school it’s time for you to head off to university! You’ve decided to leave the mid sized city that you call your hometown, and go to the big city NYC! You’ll be attending NYU more specifically, but you won’t be making this move alone you’ll be attending with your best friend Maxine!

What will you discover in your university life?

Will you solely focus on schoolwork or wind up in the raging party scene?

Will you explore new creative endeavors or solely focus on honing your craft?

With so much going on will you even have the time to possibly find your muse, or maybe even become someone else’s?

Design your mc from clothing style to physical appearance to pronouns, gender identity, name, looks, and more.

Choose 1 of 9 majors that grant you different classes with new students and professors: (Studio Arts, Dance, Drama, Photography and Imaging, Jazz Studies, Songwriting, Recorded Music, Collaborative Arts, Dramatic Writing )

Curate your MCs personality and how they react to all the drama and excitement university life has to offer. Style your MC’s dorm room and their aesthetic style.

Navigate the cliques and scenes to figure out where your MC fits in. Maybe you're a social butterfly and you just float from one social group to another!

Engage in a romance with 1 of 10 characters. 5 female/male gender selectable and 5 gender set characters. And 2 poly routes one with The Rebel Rejects and one with The Exes (Faye and Karla).

Choose one of three part time jobs to give you a little extra spending money for things like spring break and birthday gifts for your new friends.

Follow The Muse through your MC’s freshman and sophomore years. Junior and senior year will come much later in Book Two of The Muse. The third and final book in The Muse series will cover the start of MC's new life after graduation.

Roxanne/Robbie Sawyer: (f/m) The lead singer and guitarist of The Rebel Rejects. Ro is everything you would want in a lead singer cool, charismatic, and super talented. Don’t let their dazzling aura intimidate you though because though they may have a raging wild side they can also be extremely down to earth.

Joleen/Johnny Nielsen: (f/m) The drummer of The Rebel Rejects. Jo is the oddball of the band with a sunny exterior and twisted flower child past. They may be a sweet boho bimbo with a heart of gold, but there’s a lot more that lies behind those blue green eyes.

Delphine/Desmond Hartley: (f/m) The bassist for The Rebel Rejects. De is the super glue propelling the group forward. With high expectations from their parents, and dreams that soar even higher, success is the only option.

Rina/Ren Fukushi: (f/m) R is the best ballet dancer in this incoming freshman class, and no one would ever think to say otherwise. They’re cold and closed off, if it isn’t about ballet then they don’t want to hear it.

Everly/Everett Thompson: (f/m) Eve is a triple threat. Singing, dancing, acting they can do it all. They hope to complete their EGOT before they turn 40.

Karla Reyes: (she/her) Karla is a sophomore at NYU studying Studio Arts. Her favorite medium is watercolor on canvas. She dabbled with sculpting and ceramics...until she broke up with her ex, Faye, and can’t stand to be in the same studio with them.

Faye Winters: (she/they) Fae is every bit the ethereal being they seem to be, and just as flighty. She is a sophomore majoring in dance with a minor in studio arts. She has this effortless charm and beauty that extends to her art whether its her dancing or her sculptures.

Sebastien Auclair: (he/him) Sebastien is in his third year of university, he’s an exchange student from the Paris College of Art. He is studying photography and imaging. Sebastian loves Paris, but he is excited for this change of scenery.

Maxine Matthews: (she/her)Max is your best friend in the world! Your parents are friends so you were destined to best pals since birth, thank god you actually like each other or all those shared family functions would have been really awkward. Max is funny and always has great commentary for every show or movie that you watch together. Which is why you weren’t surprised when they decided to major in dramatic writing. Some people think that you’re too close. They wonder how is it possible that you could be just friends.

Silas Walker: (he/him) Silas is your RA. As your Resident Advisor he's super helpful and friendly. You have question about the best study spots, bad professors, how to use the subway, well he's got answers. He keeps all his advisees at arms length because everyone knows RAs can't canoodle with their advisees. And that just makes it all the more enticing.

#interactive fiction #dashingdon #twine if #twine interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive if #choice of games #choice script #choose your own adventure #choose your own story #twine game #twine story #if: intro #if: themuse #interact if #interact-if #if wip

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macfrog · 9 months

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mile high sex on fire chapter three

we're going overseas baby! (this is gonna be a three-parter cause i hyperfixated and couldn't stop myself so BUCKLE UP) author's note: i absolutely do NOT condone the use of private jets. they are GROSS and terrible for the environment and just fucking fly commerical ok? but in this ceo!joel ficland, private jets are fuelled by delusion and emit only clean, pure oxygen. thank you for reading. now, with that in mind, please enjoy reader being railed in a plane cabin. i love u all to paris n back 🤍🥐

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you accompany joel on a work trip to paris, to eat good food, drink expensive wine, and…get to know each other a little better

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) environmental crime, plane sex, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv sex, daddy kink, joel being a fucking exhibitionist menace, creampie, more gf representation, showering together, softdom!joel, sugardaddy!joel, heavy on the flirting, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, very ridiculous spending on very ridiculous things, workplace relationship and therefore odd power dynamic yadda yadda yadda

word count: 6.3k

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Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.” “They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.” “Who?” Joel asks. He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes. “Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

You’ve never been on a work trip with Joel. Usually, he likes to take them alone. Martha told you once about a time a couple years before you started when Joel took an intern to a conference in Canada, and the kid spent the entire first night in the hotel bar, missed the conference the next day, and only just made the flight home, scruff of his neck between Joel’s knuckles.

He racked up a bill of nearly a thousand dollars just on liqueur and finger food. Joel had sworn he’d never take anybody anywhere with him again.

But there’s this client over in Europe he’s due to meet – an annual thing where they sit on the terrace of some luxurious hotel, drink expensive wine that tastes like piss, according to Joel, and have a cock-off over their money and status.

Sounds like fun, right?

You’ve a pretty good idea why he asked you. And he made a pretty convincing pitch: he’d promised you a relaxing weekend. You didn’t have to sit in on any meetings, he’d let you amble around the city by day, take you for a fancy dinner or two at night. All expenses paid. You barely had to lift a finger.

As per the deal, Martha organized the travel documents. Printed them, collated them, handed them to you in a neat little folder with a paperclip on top and a Post-It note with Have fun! written in red ink. You’d slipped it into your bag and followed Joel to his car, nodding to Rand as you ducked under the starlit ceiling.

Joel’s left hand sits around your thigh – because where else would it be? – his right clutching his phone, thumb scrolling as he absentmindedly reads some document. You’re watching the city soar by from behind tinted glass. Before long, it’s the dark green of trees flickering by, and then, canvased by the clear blue sky, an air traffic control tower in the distance.

The Rolls saunters past the main entrance to the airport. You watch it roll by, leaning forward in your seat.

“Wait, what…?”

“What, baby?” Joel asks, looking up from his phone.

You usually knew every fine detail of the plan by heart. It was your job to. But with Martha being in charge of arranging your flight, you’d missed one crucial speck of information this time. And that is –

You’re travelling by private fucking jet.

The car drives across smooth tarmac toward a pointed white plane, bold against the brilliant blue sky behind it. There are four people standing at the bottom of the steps leading into it; what you assume are the two pilots, and two smartly dressed flight attendants.

“How did I never know you had a…?”

Joel smirks. “Never showed you it. C’mon.”

He gets out, strolls around to your door and opens it for you. You’re still gawking at the jet.

“Jeez…” you whisper, hopping out of the car.

“What is it?” he says through a chuckle, leading you across the tarmac.

“I feel so…Everyone looks so…I’m in my fucking sweatpants, Joel.”

He looks at you under low brows, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Like he doesn’t want to hear one more word of it. He holds an arm out; his pinkie bumps into your tummy.

“I think you look beautiful, darlin’.”

It might’ve stopped you in your tracks. Might’ve crumbled the entire airport to dust. Might’ve made the sun drop out of the sky. You’re not sure. You wouldn’t notice if you dropped dead right now.

His words, his soft voice when he says them, send a pang of white noise through your ears, echoing around and bouncing off the walls of your head.

You swallow. Digest what he just said. And do your best to forget all about it.

Joel takes your hand and leads you to the plane steps, helping you up. He follows at your heels. “Thanks, Jerry, Lisa,” he says. You give both pilots a nervous smile as you pass.

The airconditioned cabin chills your arms when you reach the top, twisting around to look back to Joel.

“Go on.” Joel nods, palm ushering you inside.

You step forward and turn right, standing in the doorway to a pristine, white-walled, wooden interior cabin, leather seats dotted against the walls, dark brown glassy tables between them, soft gray carpet at your feet, vacuum cleaner lines still visible. There’s a long plush couch on the left wall, today’s newspaper on the side table next to it.

You feel Joel’s body shell around yours, his chin dips against your ear.

“Like it?”

“Not really. Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution.”

“How many trees you want me to plant to make up for it?”

You tut. “What are you doin’ in business? You’re so funny.”

You wander off without looking back, heading for one of the window seats.

“Uh,” Joel clears his throat, “there’s a separate cabin up back, too, if you want it.”

“Separate cabin?”

He nods. “’s got a bed. It’s cozy.”

A bed. Of course this asshole has a fucking bed in his private jet.

The pilots file in behind him, dipping into the cockpit. The flight attendants follow, and begin preparing for takeoff. Joel strolls over to the seat opposite yours, giving your legs a nudge under the varnished table when he sits down.

You both click your seatbelts into place, relax, and look out the window as the jet rolls by the airport, heading for the runway. The engine fires up properly, a deep hum you feel rattling up your spine, and then you’re pulled forward, body pushing heavily into the soft leather of your seat.

The plane races down the runway, the grass and trees blurring into a mix of dark and light green, before you’re lifting off the tarmac and into the air, your tummy flipping a little from excitement and maybe some nerves, and…Joel’s gaze on you.

When your eyes meet his, he scans down. Your little black t-shirt, skin tight. The way your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. Down to the waist of your sweatpants, then further down your legs. You know exactly what’s going through his mind.

And, honestly…being on a private jet on your way to a free weekend in Paris, accompanied by the best sex you’ve ever had…? Goes against a couple of your core beliefs about the world, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t on your mind, too.

The flight attendants let you guys know you can unbuckle your belts now, and, like a hive mind, you both unclip them and stand.

“Was gonna go check out that, uh–”

“I’ll show you to it,” Joel cuts in, taking your bag and leading you down the aircraft. He dips his head as he walks, the cabin too small for him to stand straight. You follow like a fucking dog, trying to hide the spring in your step.

Through a door concealed to look like part of the wall is a small room with a double bed, soft white sheets untouched. There’s a little TV on the wall opposite, a small table with another comfy chair by one of the windows, and a rail for hanging up clothes. The shades over the windows are pulled almost all the way down, sunlight splintering through and lining the soft carpet.

Joel wasn’t wrong. It is cozy.

He sets your bag down on the floor and closes the door behind you. You notice he locks it.

The corners of your lips tug, your eyebrows raise. “Might be classier than my bedroom.”

He scoffs, and you turn, falling back onto the bed and kicking your shoes off.

“Alright,” you announce, flat-out on the sheets, “I’m gonna get some shut-eye.”

Joel looks surprised. Almost – offended. “Sh…You’re gonna sleep?”

“’s why you got a bed, ain’t it?”

He narrows his eyes, runs his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. Steps forward. Sticks a knee between yours. “Not exactly.”

You smile up at him. He’s pulling the jacket from his shoulders, plain white tee underneath. He looks so fucking good. The man always looks so fucking good. He tosses the jacket to the floor and bends down over you. Hands pressing deep into the bed either side of your head, torso hovering over yours. Hips just too far away for you to lift yours up to meet them.

You take hold of his wrists. “Then…show me what it’s for.”

Joel looks from your lips to your chest, then back up to your eyes, grinning like a devil. He lifts one hand and his fingers come down to play with the drawstring of your sweatpants, tugging painfully slow on them. You want to whine, but that’d be letting him win too easily.

He loosens the waist and his fingers find the hem of your tee tucked beneath.

“You gonna show me those pretty tits, baby?”

You nod, biting your lip as he peels your top from your body, your back arching, arms splaying out on the bed. Joel uncovers your chest and slips the top over your head, discarding it to the side and leaning back to take the view in.

You didn’t wear a bra today. Wanted to travel in as much comfort as possible.

One of your wiser choices.

“Fuck, darlin’…” he breathes, eyes set on your perky tits, your round, hardened nipples. His reaction sends a fleet of electricity down to your core.

“C’mere,” you whisper, taking his shirt in your fists and dragging him down against your naked torso. And then his hips are there, right against yours, and you grind up into him, feeling his bulging crotch between your legs.

Your fingers dance along the hem of his shirt and he lifts off of you, letting you tug it over his head before his chest is pressed back against yours. You part your lips and he fills your mouth with his tongue, hands in your hair, body grinding against your own. He’s pushing you further up the mattress until you’re both in the center, disturbing the sheets and shifting the cushions decorating the bed.

Joel’s hand trails down your naked stomach and under your pants, cutting past the lace of your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger daring ever lower. You moan and drag your hips forward to edge his fingers further, until they’re dipping between your folds and your body’s rolling with pleasure.

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, “that’s it, huh? That’s what you want?”

“Uhuh,” you nod, bottom lip between your teeth, eyelashes batting in a plea for him to keep going. Keep fucking going.

His mouth dips between your jaw and your shoulder, teeth picking up your hot skin to suck a bruise while two fingers push inside of you, lifting your back from the mattress and into Joel’s rock-solid body. Some noise escapes his lips, something caught between a laugh and a groan.

“So tight, baby,” he murmurs, drawing a smile across your face.

And then your hands are messing around at his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button. Wanting him in your hands as much as he has you around his own. Needing to feel what you’re doing to him, since he’s well aware of what he’s done to you.

Joel’s hand slips gently out from under your pants and his weight lifts off of you. In the slivers of light streaming through the cabin windows, his silhouette steps back off the bed and shoves the denim down his thighs. His jeans hit the floor and as quick as he left you, he’s back pressing into you again, hard outline of his length nudging against the top of your thigh.

You slip a hand under the elastic of his underwear and take hold of his cock, while he picks up where he left off between your legs. Your lips connect, breathing laughs and pants and desperate moans into each other, hands working to push each other closer and closer…

Joel’s fingers pump in and out, curling just enough to hit your G-spot every time. His thumb’s bumping at your clit, pushing waves of pleasure with each circle. He adds a third finger when you start to gasp, the movement of your fist around his shaft becoming messy and staggered. You’re trying to focus on him, trying to get him there as fast as he’s getting you, but he’s so fucking good at it, and you’re starting to fade out of the cabin.

Your eyes roll shut; head falls back against the bed. You’re still trying to fucking jack him off, as if he’d even let himself cum in your hands before he’s been inside you. But you’re desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of having you unfold on his hand less than ten minutes into this. Desperately trying not to give in to him and his stupid private jet.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel whispers in your ear, pressing a delicate kiss to your hair, “you can cum. Do it for me.”

“F-uck you,” you whisper, and you cave.

Let’s put it down to the air pressure when you’re this high up. In fact, let’s just say: you’re on a plane, and you’ve never had anything remotely close to sex on a plane before, and that’s why, when your orgasm bursts through, you cum harder than you think you’ve ever done before. It’s because of how fucking insane this is.

Let’s just say.

You come to with your face buried in the crook of Joel’s neck. His chest is vibrating, Adam’s apple bobbing. You pull back and notice the dimples in his swollen cheeks, the crow’s feet by his eyes, and then…the wide smile spread across his lips.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he asks through a laugh.

You curse at him again, eyes screwing shut. His hand’s still between your legs, slowly moving in and out, lulling you through the tail end of your orgasm. Your hands have deserted their original job; they’re clutching Joel’s shoulders. You don’t even remember grabbing onto him.

“Got somethin’ that’ll make you feel even better,” he breathes, and before you’re fully awake, his hands are on your hips, flipping you over. He drags your pants down your legs, discarding them to the floor beside his.

You sigh when he pulls your ass up into the air, resting your ear on your folded arms. Accepting defeat, or maybe just…letting him do what he does best.

Joel slips your panties to the side and runs his cock up and down your dripping cunt. You flinch, still sensitive, and feel him slow down.

“Gonna make you feel real good, alright?”

“Mhm,” you reply, eyes closing again as he lines up.

It sounds like a bit of a dumb thing to say. Joel makes you feel good every time his hands are on you, without question. Even that first night, in that dive bar, before he’d ever really done anything. His hands sent electricity through your body that you failed all weekend to rid yourself of. But you hear what he’s really saying.

You haven’t had each other yet without someone on the other side of the wall, waiting for one of you. It’s always been a rush, always been about that race to the finish line just to satisfy your needs, and then return to Earth as soon as you’re done.

There’s no need to rush to that finish line this time around. Nobody’s waiting. Joel can do whatever he wants, can fuck you however he likes, and have you under his hand for as long as he wants. As long as you both last.

The bed makes sense now, doesn’t it?

He pushes inside you, thick, hard, full. You gasp, face burying into the comforter, legs spreading to accommodate his size. Your fingers grasp onto the sheets, nails digging into the soft fabric as he fills you up, pulls halfway out, and rocks back in.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cry, and his hips slam into yours.

“Huh?” he asks.

“Daddy,” you correct yourself, still gasping.

“Better.”

Joel pounds into you, strong grip on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock at a punishing pace. His grunts match your whines. Your hand stretches out to grab something – anything – to hold onto, to steady yourself as your body begins to collapse.

“Daddy,” you mewl again, muffled by the cotton of the sheets, like it’s the only word coming to mind. “So – fuckin’ – good.”

“Louder, baby,” he replies, groaning when you tighten around him.

You whimper. “F-fuck, daddy.”

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.”

“They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.”

“Who?” Joel asks.

He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

His hips crack into yours again once, and then halt. You cry out, the sudden feeling of him in his entirety, filling you up, pushing right up against your cervix, too much to bear. Too much to be muffled by the mattress beneath you.

“Let – them,” Joel’s hips drag back, slow, leaving you empty, “hear – you.”

He thrusts forward again, painfully, and you moan. Loud. “Ah, daddy,” you cry out again, and you swear Joel’s chest rumbles behind you with a laugh.

“That’s it, good girl. Tell ‘em how good it feels.”

You feel your mind start to slip, the cabin going with it. Your eyes roll closed, your mouth falls open. The only sound escaping your lips a whine, over and over, shaped just like the word daddy, daddy, daddy.

Joel’s forehead rests on the crown of yours, his voice a soft hum at the nape of your neck.

“See? Sound way too pretty to keep quiet, darlin’.”

He’s panting, words spilling out of his mouth between gasps and grunts. Hips are snapping at a grueling pace. You reach for his wrists again, planted in the bed either side of your head, and squeeze as if it might relieve the building tension in the pit of your stomach.

But he’s going so fast, so hard, fucking you dumb. And you can feel him start to falter, when your walls hold him snug, tightening around him as you reach your high.

He cums when you do. You feel him empty inside you as you hurtle through your own orgasm, rippling bliss all around your body. You both cry out, filling the tiny room with groans of pleasure and release together.

Your hips give, fall flat to the mattress, Joel still inside, slowly rocking back and forth, pushing his cum deeper and deeper inside you.

His elbows sink into the bed at your shoulders, caging you under his body as the remnants of your highs wash away. He’s running soft, wet kisses from your neck down the top of your spine. When your body stills, the pulsing of your cunt a mere flutter, he slips out from between your legs and pushes up off of your body.

Joel collapses alongside you atop the tangle of sheets and pillows, skin sticking, bodies thrumming with energy. You roll over to lie next to him. Chests rising and falling in unison, fingers intertwining at your sides. You’re staring at the ceiling, head tilting to rest on Joel’s shoulder, and he places a soft kiss to your hair.

You glance up to look into his brown eyes, lit by the thin rays of bursting sunlight seeping through the windows. The way the light moves across him as the plane turns, brilliant rays sweeping over the horizon and reflecting every angle of his face.

When he notices you, he dips his chin, and you prop yourself up, pressing your lips to his. Joel holds your jaw softly, thumb grazing over your cheekbone. His other hand scoops around your back, holding your body close to his.

“Sleepy,” you mutter, and he nods.

“Get some rest,” he tells you, but you’re already laying your head down on his chest.

Your heavy eyes blink the jet out of view; Joel’s hand stroking your hair sends you off to sleep.

----------

You wake under the white sheets, still wrapped up in Joel’s arms, to the sound of voices on the TV. Some comedy movie. Sounds like Adam Sandler. Joel mutes it when he notices you stirring.

“Afternoon,” he mutters, voice husky.

“Hi,” you reply softly, and his hand runs through your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Only a little while. They’re probably getting ready for lunch. You want me to head out first?”

You nod, suddenly feeling ashamed…and hungry. “Yeah. ‘n can you…make sure they don’t ask?”

“They ain’t gonna ask,” he groans, laughing as you roll off his body and let him up.

You watch as he dresses himself, toned arms pulling his tee over broad shoulders; tan legs slipping back into neat jeans. He slings his jacket over his arm and bends back down over you to let you kiss him again – slow, deep. Something of a thanks, a you’re welcome, maybe. A marker, anyway. A prelude to this weekend.

And then he slips out front. You lock the door behind him and start collecting your clothes, hopping around the cabin as you pull them on.

Before you leave, you grab a hoodie from your bag, feeling a little more exposed than you did when you first boarded. You toss it over your shoulders and open the door.

“Couple more hours,” Joel tells you as you sit opposite him, propping your ankles on his lap. His hands run over your socks, brows furrowing when he notices the pattern. “Bart Simpson?”

“Comfiest socks I own. Good plane socks.”

“Alright.”

“Go on. Make fun of ‘em.”

“I didn’t say anything. You want somethin’ to eat?”

You smirk. “Sure.”

He pours you a glass of water from the metal jug on the table between you both, and one of the attendants appears as if by magic on your right.

“Got you gluten free stuff,” Joel says as you gulp at the ice water.

You almost choke. “Seriously?”

His face twists, confused. Mirroring your astonishment. “Yeah. You think I’d let you starve?”

You almost laugh before you hear it, and realize how sweet it is. You didn’t even know Joel noticed this stuff. Didn’t think it’d be on his radar.

“Thank you,” you whisper, lifting your glass to mask the blush burning across your cheeks.

Joel nods once. Then turns to the attendant and asks for a burger, side of fries, side of onion rings. “We got sweet potato fries, Len?” he asks.

“Think so,” Len replies. “Want them instead? Or both?”

Joel thinks it over for probably two seconds, before he shrugs and says, “Both. Thanks, man.”

Len turns to you, but you’re still staring at Joel. “Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Joel holds his hands out. “I’m hungry.”

You give Len a smile. “What’s…What can I have?”

“We got gluten free flour, bread, pasta, uh…garlic bread for sides, too. And a couple desserts.”

“What the f…?” You stare at Joel. “You didn’t have to–”

“Just order, baby,” Joel says, palm facing you, stopping you from going on.

“I’ll, uh…You do fried chicken?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll have fried chicken, side of fries, and coleslaw, if you have it, please.”

Len nods curtly and heads back up front, leaving you and Joel on your own again. You finish your thought.

“What the fuck?”

He’s chuckling. “What?”

“You…This is…Nothing, you just…you blow my mind, every time.”

Joel shrugs, grinning. “Blow your back out, ‘n all.”

“Alright.” You snatch your ankles from his grasp – Bart’s toothy smirk slipping from between Joel’s fingers – and sit up straight, looking out of the window to the dazzling sky; bright blue on top and fluffy white clouds beneath.

Your food arrives shortly after and the pair of you eat in comfortable silence. Joel checks through his emails, you sit back in your seat with your headphones in. It’s nice, not having a phone to answer or Joel’s schedule to fix. Nicer, still, having him feet away from you, giving you all the attention you could possibly want at the drop of a hat.

You land in Paris at 10PM local time. Straight off the plane and into another sleek, black car, driven by a gray-haired, sharp-suited man named Denis whose hand Joel shakes before climbing in beside you. He slides into the leather seat and you fall against one another, your head on his shoulder. Partition wound up, though neither of you feel much like doing anything that’d require privacy. Your eyes are tired, heavy, you smell like eight hours’ worth of plane, and you’re basically salivating at the thought of collapsing into a huge, soft, clean bed.

Which is exactly what the pair of you do when you reach the hotel. You’re in some extravagant suite picked by Joel; you manage two glances around the dark place before he’s leading you by hand off to the bedroom, cases still parked at the front door.

And before you know it, you’re sinking into the plush sheets of a king-size bed, limbs entangled with Joel’s, city lights twinkling through the window into your sleep-glazed eyes as you drift off.

----------

Day breaks across Paris around seven in the morning. You wake with the blue glow of the sky, dusty pink on the horizon bleeding upward as the sun rises higher. When your eyes open and adjust to the light, you glance over Joel’s still sleeping body and notice the view behind him, split in half by the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower.

The curtains are still pulled back – neither of you noticed nor had the energy to shut them when you arrived. You’re both still in your clothes from yesterday, too. Joel managed to kick off his shoes, and you remember him pulling yours off before he fell into the bed next to you. You didn’t even sleep under the bedsheets.

You push yourself up off the bed, stretching your back and glancing around. This room is fucking nuts. Gold accented – gold handles, gold light switches, gold frames. Pretentious modern art decorating each wall, an upholstered headboard that almost touches the ceiling in front of you. Marble-topped nightstands with spotless silver lamps, glinting in the light.

You roll off of the bed, Bart Simpson socks landing on soft carpet, though his face has been awkwardly twisted around your ankle in your sleep. You shuffle off to a door on the left, leading down a small hallway – past some fancy ornate vase – to the living room: a wide, open space with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the bedroom, looking out to the same view.

Two velvet couches sit opposite one another, a white marble coffee table sat between. Behind them, a dining table with eight chairs. Gleaming varnished wood. And then, through a couple more doors, a kitchenette with modern white cabinets, a coffee machine, a microwave.

Fucking. Nuts.

You hear Joel stirring in the bedroom and wander back through, dazed with sleep and amazement at this place. He’s rubbing his eyes when you walk in and spring down on top of him on the bed.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, voice thick and husky. His hands fall onto your thighs, sat either side of his waist, and his eyes flutter open. “You’re energetic.”

“Have you fucking seen this place?”

“I have. Stay here every year.”

You press further into him, feeling a swell in his jeans and doing your best to ignore it.

“Can we go explore?”

“Outside?”

You nod eagerly, despite the way his face screws up.

“Baby,” he sighs, “I’m still in my damn jeans.”

“So, go shower. Get dressed.”

He’s not done protesting. “We travelled for, like, nine hours straight yesterday.”

“’n now we’re here and we ain’t here long, so let’s go do something. C’mon.”

You lace your fingers through Joel’s and pull him up toward you, sitting in his lap on the bed. He buries his face in your chest, mumbling something incoherent into the cotton of your shirt.

You giggle. “Huh? Can’t hear you.”

Joel pulls back with a sigh and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Alright,” he says, “go get ready.”

You leap off of him with a quiet squeal of glee.

As you pace around the suite, dragging your case into the bedroom, fishing some clean clothes and your toothbrush out, practically skipping into the marble-tiled shower room, Joel lays back in bed watching your every move. Smiling, eyebrows lifting with encouragement anytime you look over to him. Head resting back in the crook of his arm, sleepy eyes taking in all of your excitement.

You’re rinsing shampoo out of your hair when he slides into the shower behind you, a quick kiss to your shoulder.

“No sex,” you tell him with a pointed finger, squeezing the lemon scented gel into the palm of your hand.

“No, ma’am,” he says with a smirk, dipping his head to let you lather up the suds in his salt and pepper hair. “So, where we goin’?”

You shrug. “Wherever. Lots to do in Paris.”

“Wanna get you somethin’ nice,” he says, eyes screwed shut as he runs his head under the flow of water, “a thanks for comin’ with me.”

“I think maybe the private jet, the hotel room, plus the free trip in itself is thanks enough, Joel.”

But Joel disagrees. Heartily, apparently.

He takes your hand and helps you out of the car on a tree-lined street, tall cream buildings on either side. It looks like a movie set. You’re following Joel’s lead, spending more time craning your neck to look up at the huge, ornate windows guarded by black balconettes while he guides you across cobblestone toward the smoothly paved sidewalk.

You’re not even paying attention to where he’s taking you until you’re stood in the middle of a glistening store, plush rug under your feet, lavish chairs in the center of the room, a rainbow of fashion surrounding you.

“What…? No, Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes scanning the room. He takes a step, and you tug on his arm.

“I can’t fucking afford Gucci,” you whisper, pulling his body back against yours.

He hands you a bemused smile, eyebrows low, corners of his lips pulled. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Your arm falls limp and he drags you through the store, past mannequins in patterned gowns and silk shirts, past shelves of obnoxiously huge purses and accessories gleaming in the spotlights from above.

Your fingers stay locked around Joel’s hand, your head swiveling so much you worry it might fall off, looking from the vibrant floral wallpaper down to the spotless tiled floor, glancing politely at attendants and then dipping your head and wandering by them behind Joel.

“See anything?” he asks, turning to you at the opposite end of the store.

It’s ridiculous. This entire trip…is ridiculous, and you’ve only been here twelve hours. Following around at Joel’s heels like a puppy, watching as he clicks his fingers – no, before he even gets the chance to click his fingers – and everything and anything either of you could dream up just…happens. Right in front of you.

He won’t let up. You know him. If you tried to pull him back outside onto the street, he’d buy you something for the hell of it.

You know him. So, you decide to use that to your advantage.

“Gucci…I dunno…” you muse, squinting at him.

“Not your thing?” he asks, and he seems curious, but – you know him. You know that behind that polite mask is a smirk thick enough to make your knees wobble. He knows what you’re doing. “Where to, angel?”

You lead him out of the store. Feel his shadow behind you, watching as you thank the doorman and take a left around the corner, passing under the shade of the gently rustling trees. Arm in arm, you arrive before a huge archway, pristine windows surrounding the door to…

“Dolce & Gabbana…” Joel looks up at the stone writing atop the arch. “Alright. Classy girl.”

You giggle, pulling him past the wrought-iron fence and inside.

It’s sleeker, moodier. Less in your face. Suits you a bit better, though you can’t quite swallow back the guilt that sticks in your throat as you saunter around, Joel right behind you. It catches you when an assistant touches your arm, snapping you out of your daze, and asks if you need anything.

“No, thank you,” you reply, mirroring her smile. “Thank you.”

She nods and floats off.

Joel’s frame shells around yours, dipping his jaw to lean against your shoulder. “What about that one?” His eyes flit up to a mannequin just past a lit table of purses.

“The black one?”

“Mhm.”

“You like that?”

He repeats, a little more exaggerated: “Mhm.”

You shrug. “I do look good in black.”

“Look better in nothin’.” Joel steps forward and takes the tag between two delicate fingers, deliberately hiding it from you. He turns back, lifts his eyebrows in question. “Buy you it if you promise to wear it tonight.”

You smile. This man knows how to barter. And you take no convincing at all.

“Alright,” you accept, “deal.”

----------

Three hours later, you’re strolling down another cobbled street with an ice cream in your hand. And not much else, by the way. Joel’s taken all the shopping bags back to the hotel. He slapped your hand away when you tried to lift one of them from his clutches.

The wind sifts gently through your hair, cooling your face and neck, toying with the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing. It flutters the French flags overhead, red, white and blue blowing in the breeze. Cars roll by, engines humming as they weave in and out between one another, horns calling out in the distance.

Joel hadn’t let you come up to the counter to pay with him, had insisted you stay right where you were standing, and when he finished up and laced his fingers through yours, it was like a surge of energy had shot through him.

He led you out of the store and into another, and another, and another…until his hands were wrapped around, what, six bags? All carrying different components of your outfit for tonight.

And then he’d noticed the time – unlocked his phone with a curse under his breath, and kissed your temple. Midday. He was meeting Jean-Marc in an hour.

“You wanna come back with me? Chill at the hotel?” he’d asked, dialing his chauffeur’s number.

“I’m good,” you said, smiling sweetly as he squeezed your shoulder. Then, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you his card.

“’case you see anything else you want.”

“Joel,” you protested, but he’d shut you up by clicking his teeth and walking off, leaving you to follow after him, shamelessly beaming.

He’d apologized another three times before Denis had pulled up, then once more as he loaded the trunk with your bags.

“See you later. Enjoy your meeting,” you teased, laughing at the way his face twisted into a grimace as the car rolled off.

It’d been a pretty nice afternoon. You’d dipped into a couple more stores – though, without Joel to impress, the low-cut dresses and short miniskirts were somewhat less exciting.

That is, until you passed by a lingerie store. You stood outside for a second, peering by your reflection in the window to study what lay behind. Suddenly lace and satin – and the idea of Joel seeing you in them – seemed a lot more enticing.

You’d pieced together an entire getup: bra, panties, garter belt, even a pair of stockings, and a silk robe to go over the top. You handed over Joel’s card, ignoring the way your cheeks began to heat and focusing instead on how smug you felt, and skipped out of the store, bag in hand.

You’d called Denis five minutes ago to ask for a ride back to the hotel. He called you Madame, he said Nonono every time you apologized for bothering him again, and he promised he’d be there in less than ten minutes.

You pace back and forth along the curb, waiting for the shiny black Maybach to pull up. You’ve checked your phone, like, five times already, kinda hoping there’ll be a text from Joel. You swing the bag between your fingers.

A door swings open behind you, giggles filter out into the street, and you turn to see a couple bounding out of a jewelers, hand in hand. She flicks her left wrist up, tilts it in the sun. It’s hard to ignore the light bouncing off of her ring finger. You feel nauseous at the sight.

Suddenly the Parisian street dissolves, and what sweeps over in replacement is a long, empty lawn, maple trees swaying menacingly in the distance. There’s a blur of bright blue sky, sunrays bursting across your vision. Your hand comes up to shield your eyes, and there he is. There he was.

He was on the grass. You told him to stand up; his suit trousers would be stained green. He did it anyway. Trembling hands, expectant stare. You stuttered and stammered your way through a sentence fueled by shock and horror and…resentment.

And then you did it anyway, too.

The crackle of tires coming to a stop on the road in front drags your fraught gaze from the couple, now strutting off down the avenue. You reach for the door handle, but Denis is already out of the car and leaning down, hand on your back as you duck into the backseat.

----------

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bradshawssugarbaby · 4 months

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Blue Skies and Green Eyes (Jake Seresin x Reader)

A/N: so I decided to just write an air show meet cute for Jake, Bradley and Bob because, even with a poll, how could I ever choose? So, here's the first of three, I guess? 😅

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

content/warnings: pure fluff, air show inaccuracies because the last time I went to one I was 9, and it was in a cornfield, reader has a named niece and nephew, no physical description of reader given other than an allusion to them being tall.

word count: 2.1k

On the sun-soaked beach, your niece and nephew climbed over one another eagerly on the blanket you had carefully arranged, vying for the best spot to witness the spectacle unfolding overhead. The air show, a cherished tradition passed down from your father to you and your brother, had become an annual pilgrimage for your family. Determined to keep the legacy alive, you eagerly took charge of the tradition when your brother couldn't make it to your nephew's first air show.

For the past seven years, this had been your unique tradition with them. As the jets roared to life in the sky, the kids engaged in a lively dispute, each competing for an unobstructed view of the aerial acrobatics. Your brow furrowed as their bickering escalated, prompting an eye roll from you. Seizing the opportunity to diffuse the tension, you chuckled and settled between them, effectively creating a barrier that halted their squabble.

“Hey!” They both protested, shaking their heads in dismay.

“If it's the only way to prevent a full-blown war between you two, then I'm planting myself right here,” you declared with a playful smirk.

Mia, your spirited niece, responded with a pout and crossed arms, while Aiden, her older brother, countered by sticking his tongue out at her, a mischievous grin adorning his face as he comfortably claimed his spot beside you.

“Aiden,” you warned, catching his silent final shot at his sister out of the corner of your eye.

“Sorry.”

A warm smile adorned your face as you, along with the children, gazed skyward, captivated by the mesmerizing display of aircraft maneuvering through a series of intricate twists, turns, and loops. Aiden erupted in cheers and enthusiastic whistles, his excitement bubbling over as a FA-18 Super Hornet executed a flawless barrel roll high above. Engrossed in the spectacle, he fervently waved at the aircraft above him, a hopeful gesture that the pilot might catch a glimpse and reciprocate in some way. Beside him, Mia eagerly pointed upward, her eyes widening in sheer wonder as the plane effortlessly navigated a knife-edge flight, leaving her with an awestruck expression that mirrored the spectacle unfolding before her.

As the airshow continued, the sky became a canvas for more daring aerobatics. Another set of aircraft roared onto the scene, executing synchronized maneuvers that left trails of smoke swirling against the azure backdrop. Aiden and Mia's attention darted from one spectacle to another, their faces alive with awe and exhilaration. You couldn't help but share in their enthusiasm, reveling in the joy of witnessing these aerial feats with the same awestruck gaze you had as a child yourself, completely fascinated by the skill executed in every move.

Suddenly, a squadron of jets soared in tight formation, their wings almost touching as they painted the sky with precision. The deafening roar of engines filled the air as the pilots skillfully executed a breathtaking sequence of loops and rolls, creating a symphony of motion that left the onlookers breathless.

Aiden, his eyes glued to the spectacle, whispered in amazement, "I want to be a pilot one day, just like them!"

Mia, equally captivated, nodded in agreement, her imagination ignited by the incredible display unfolding above.

“Do you think we could meet them?!” Aiden asked excitedly as he turned his attention to you.

“I don’t know, honey, they’re probably really busy,” you explained with a nod of your head, knowing that the chances were unlikely to be in your favour.

“Can we try?! Please?”

You looked at Aiden’s pleading face, and then to his sister, who had decided to match his facial expressions, their innocent faces making nearly impossible for you to say no to.

“Fine, we can try. But I’m not making any promises, guys. You know, they’re really busy, and they’re actual military pilots, they’ve got lots of stuff to do.”

The children both cheered the moment you agreed to their request, and you could tell that the last portion of your reply was falling on deaf ears. You huffed a mock dramatic sigh as you squeezed both of them into a tight hug, laughing softly.

After the airshow had concluded, all Mia and Aiden could talk about was how you were taking them to try and meet some of the pilots. You felt an anxious knot in the pit of your stomach, nervous that you’d be unable to fulfill their wish. Holding both of the children’s hands, you approached the airfield fence where the pilots could be seen chatting after the show, their planes merely feet away from where you stood. A group of pilots who appeared to be in their early to late 30s stood together, laughing cordially as they spoke. One of the pilots, a tall blonde with an air of pure, unbridled confidence to his stance took notice of you as you stood with Mia and Aiden. He waved his hand to say hello, and Aiden practically squealed in excitement, jumping up and down on the spot.

The blonde pilot raised his hand to his colleagues, appearing to excuse himself for a moment. Suddenly, you noticed Aiden’s attention turn to the side. You and Mia followed his gaze, noticing that the blonde pilot was now on your side of the fence that separated the three of you from the military aircraft in the field.

“Hi, did y’all enjoy the airshow?” The aviator asked, flashing a charming smile at you as he lifted his sunglasses to rest on top of his perfectly coiffed hair.

Aiden nodded his head in a stunned silence, starstruck by the man standing before him. The allure of the charismatic Navy pilot was undeniable. His tall, athletic frame exuded confidence, and his sun-kissed skin bore witness to countless hours spent in the cockpit under the Californian sun. Those stunning pale green eyes seemed to hold the vastness of the sky, hinting at the adventures he'd encountered soaring through the clouds. Jake's charming smile had a magnetic quality, drawing you in with its warmth and openness. The subtle southern drawl in his voice added an extra layer of appeal, creating a melody that resonated with the thrill of the airshow and the laid-back atmosphere of the beach.

“We did,” you said after a moment’s hesitation, trying to not appear like a lovestruck teenager as your eyes briefly met with his.

The pilot knelt down to Aiden and Mia’s level, smiling at them both with the same charming grin he gave you a moment ago.

“Do you kids like planes?”

“I do!” Aiden and Mia both responded in unison.

“That’s awesome to hear! My name is Jake, I fly planes for the US Navy, see that one there?” He beamed proudly as he gestured towards one of the grey aircraft parked in the distance, “That’s my plane. All of our planes have our names on them so we know who’s is who’s, and our callsigns, so we can just use one word to talk to each other on the radio.”

“What’s your callsign?” Aiden asked, tilting his head as he looked at Jake.

“Hangman. Like the game, where you have to guess letters to find out what the secret word is, do you know that one?”

Aiden nodded his head and grinned. You couldn’t help but admire how patient and friendly Jake was towards Aiden and Mia, taking care to answer their eager questions with thorough answers and explanations, leaving nothing unanswered. As he spoke passionately about his experiences as a Top Gun graduate stationed at Miramar, you couldn't help but be captivated by the combination of his professionalism, adventurous spirit, and undeniable charm.

“Do you have a rank?” Aiden quizzed, tilting his head.

“Of course! Lieutenant Jake Seresin, US Navy,” Jake grinned, “And what’s your name, little guy?”

“I’m Aiden, and this is my sister, Mia,” Aiden explained, before introducing you as somewhat of an afterthought due to his excitement.

Jake looked up at you, a genuine smile forming on his lips. His green eyes stayed on you, and you could feel a sense of curiosity in his gaze. He turned his attention back to your niece and nephew, his hand resting on his knee as he looked at them both.

“Nice to meet y’all! Maybe, if your aunt says it’s ok, you guys could come back here one weekend, and I could give y’all a tour of the planes, let you meet some other pilots? Sound fun?”

Jake's offer had your niece and nephew practically buzzing with excitement. Their pleading eyes and enthusiastic pleas tugged at your heartstrings, mirroring the eagerness that now danced in your own eyes. You exchanged a glance with Jake, whose genuine smile hinted at an underlying warmth.

"Well, Lieutenant Seresin," you responded with a playful grin, "it seems like you've just won yourself two eager co-pilots for that future tour of yours."

The prospect of spending more time with Jake and experiencing the world of naval aviation up close had ignited a spark of anticipation within you. As he continued to chat with Aiden and Mia, effortlessly captivating them with tales of high-flying adventures, you couldn't help but appreciate the sincerity in his demeanor. The beach, once a stage for the breathtaking airshow, now held the promise of more extraordinary moments to come.

With a subtle twinkle in his pale green eyes, he stood up and straightened his posture to his full height, easily taller than you by more than a few inches. He turned his attention back to you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"You know," he began, his pale green eyes locking onto yours, "meeting someone as captivating as you wasn't part of the airshow program today. Consider me pleasantly surprised."

A warm flush crept across your cheeks as you chuckled at his smooth remark. Jake continued, his voice carrying the lilt of his unmistakable southern drawl, "I was thinking, maybe when I'm not up in the skies, we could grab a coffee or a drink. Talk about something other than planes and maneuvers, you know?"

The subtle invitation hung in the air, and you found yourself nodding, unable to suppress a growing smile.

"I'd like that," you replied, your eyes meeting his with a shared sense of anticipation.

“How about you share your number with me? That way, we can figure out when to meet up again. And it saves you from having to try and track me down on a Naval base."

Feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation, you retrieved your phone, fingers tapping out the digits as you exchanged contact information. Jake reciprocated, a grin playing on his lips as he entered your number into his phone. The exchange felt like a subtle promise, a digital tether that connected two individuals eager to navigate beyond the boundaries of the beach encounter.

With phones back in pockets, there was a shared acknowledgment that this exchange wasn't just about convenience but a mutual interest in seeing where this connection could lead. As the warm sunlight cascaded down over you, your niece and nephew’s muffled giggles and whispers in the air, and the promise of future messages and potential meetings lingering, it left you both with a sense of excitement for what lay ahead.

"Well, it looks like it's time for me and these two little aviators to head out," you remarked with a playful glint in your eyes.

The prospect of saying goodbye brought a hint of reluctance to the moment. With a gentle nudge, you encouraged Mia and Aiden to express their gratitude.

"Come on, you two," you said with a smile, "let's thank Lieutenant Seresin for the amazing day." The kids, still brimming with excitement, turned to Jake, expressions eager.

With genuine appreciation in their voices, Mia and Aiden chorused their thanks.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Seresin!"

Jake chuckled warmly, crouching down to their eye level. "Y’all can just call me Jake, you know. No need for all the formality, I’m only Lieutenant Seresin if my CO is around." He winked at them, his easygoing nature resonating with their youthful enthusiasm.

As the kids bid their farewells, Jake turned to you, his gaze holding a hint of something more. "Until next time, I suppose," he said, his tone carrying a mix of sincerity and anticipation.

You smiled, reciprocating the sentiment. "Absolutely. Until next time, Jake."

With a final exchange of glances and well wishes, you, Mia, and Aiden left the beach, the echoes of the airshow and the promising connection with Jake lingering in the warm California breeze. Armed with plans to coordinate with the kids' parents for a tour with Jake, and plans to schedule a date with him, you hoped this encounter marked the beginning of a connection that extended beyond the sandy shores of Coronado Beach.

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vbecker10 · 17 days

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Could I request headcanons (or a little scenario if that's what you'd prefer) for loki befriending the new member of their team that can turn into a huge bear and she's used as their heavy hitter in fights but since a bear's sense of smell and hearing is much more sensitive than humans she has a tendency to get bad sensory overloads even in casual settings and shifting between forms sometimes leaves her in pain and just basically how they would bond over time and help her through her struggles. Thanks!

Help you Bear It

(I'm not proud of this pun but @soubi001 will be lol)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: As the newest member of the Avengers, you are desperate to prove yourself as a heavy hitter who can keep the others safe. You hide the pain you feel when shifting between your human and bear form during training sessions but while you are on your first mission in the field, Loki knows something is wrong. He tries to support you through your shift back to being human and is curious as to why you fight through the pain when you could just never shift again.

Warnings: fighting, minor injuries, anxiety, some sensory issues, pain when shifting forms, feeling useless, feeling like a monster, abandonment issues - don't worry, Loki is super comforting, fluff at the end

A/N: I'm so so sorry it took me forever to get to this request. I'm finally going through my requests and I thought this idea was super interesting. I sort of ran with it a bit so I hope you don't mind if it's a little different from your ask. Thank you for sending it! I hope you like it! 💚

lille bjørn - little bear in Norwegian (I asked Google so hopefully that's right lol)

You roar loudly, standing tall on your hind legs as Steve spins and throws his shield towards you. Swinging one of your massive claws, you easily swipe it from the air and send it to the ground with a heavy thud. Your attention is pulled from the Captain by the sound of Clint unleashing a series of arrows in your direction. Running on all fours, you avoid being struck as you close the distance between you and Steve.

Without his shield, Steve has little choice but to turn and run from you, hoping one of the others will distract you until he is armed again. Your head turns towards the sound of another series of arrows leaving Clint's bow and you easily change course. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of red and know the God of Thunder has joined the fight. Your attention now shifts to finding Thor, you take a sniff of the cool air and growl when you catch his scent.

Stalking slowly to the tree he is hiding against, you keep one ear open listening to Steve's footsteps through the tall grass. Just as you reach the tree, another arrow zings past you and you stand on your hind legs for a better view of its origin. You finally see the archer, hidden in the thick leaves of a tree several yards away. He is too far for you to do anything at the moment but at least you've located him. Now back to the god and super soldier, you think, your lips curling to show your sharp teeth.

Lightning cracks overhead and the fur around your neck stands up in response, you let out a low growl. The thunder that follows is not enough to hide Steve's approach from behind and you turn to face him. Again, he throws his shield at you with as much force as he can but you swipe it away, embedding it into a nearby tree. With a roar, you charge forward but at the last second, you turn to your left just in time for Thor to land before you, his red cape fluttering around him in the breeze.

He dodges your charge, leaping out of the way but not in time. You reach for him with one of your large claws and pull him back to the ground by his ankle. He swears loudly in Asgardian as you slam him down on his back but before you can continue your attack, you hear Steve pull his shield free from the tree. Three more arrows fired in quick succession soar towards you, you swerve through them and keep your attention fixed on the Captain. Roaring as you run to meet him, he throws his shield for a third time and for a third time you cast it away.

He stands in front of you, ready to continue the fight without any weapons. You growl as your heavy frame collides with him and you send him backwards onto the ground. You rear up, ready to pin the barely conscious Captain America but your ears perk up, alerting you to the electricity in the air. You quickly lower yourself to be on all fours and move away from him just before lightning strikes where you had been. Thor once more lands just behind you, Mjolnir spinning by the leather handle. He charges towards you and you run to meet him.

You rear up on your hind legs, narrowly avoiding being hit by Mjolnir as Thor releases it. Before it can return to him, you throw your weight forward and force him to the ground on his back causing him to miss catching it. It slams through a tree and buried itself into the ground in a hail of splinters. You loom over Thor, your paws pinning him to the dirt as you roar inches from his face.

He looks up at you then yells, "I yield! I yield."

You sit back immediately and the forest around you fades away. Stark white tiles replace the lush grass, the sun brightens into a row of LED lights on the high ceiling and the sound of birds is turned off. You look to your left and watch the rest of the team applaud and cheer your final test through the floor to ceiling glass wall.

Loki cheers the loudest as the replay of you slamming Thor into the ground is shown on a loop on one of the monitors. "That's how it feels!" he says excitedly, getting up from his seat. He laughs to himself and ignores the judgmental looks from Tony and Fury.

You walk over to Steve and nudge him lightly with your nose as he stands slowly. "I yield too," he says with a light laugh, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and the top of your head with his other hand. "Good job, Y/N," he smiles.

You lay down and rest near the rear of the training room, watching the team leave as they talk and laugh with each other. As soon as the door shuts and the room is empty, you close your eyes and with a deep breath you begin to focus on shifting to your human form. The process is extremely painful and you've been told it's hard to watch so you plan on sparing the others from witnessing it for as long as possible.

You lift your head, suddenly feeling as if someone is in the room with you but as your shift progresses, your senses are overwhelmed and hard to control. With a final roar of pain fading into a groan of agony, you kneel on the floor, fully human again and exhausted.

On shaky legs, you walk over to where you left your backpack and sit heavily on the floor, resting your back against the wall. You grab a bottle of water, drinking the whole thing at once then tear open your protein bar. Your ear twitches and you look up, the feeling of being watched returns. You catch a faint green mist settling near the door but you shake your head when you don't see anyone, assuming your simply exhausted and take a bite of your protein bar.

The next morning you sit between Loki and Steve on the jet, heading to your first mission. Your leg bounces nervously and you chew on your lip until Steve taps your shoulder and pulls you from your anxious thoughts.

"Try to relax," he says in a brotherly tone.

You nod but continue to bounce your leg which happens to be resting against Loki's.

"Will you please stop that," he Loki says few minutes later. You instantly stop moving your leg and make eye contact with the God of Mischief.

"Sorry," you mumble and look down quickly. You place your hands on your knees and take a deep breath to try and calm your nerves.

"Thank you," he says calmly as he lowers his eyes back to his book.

"Almost there," Natasha calls over her shoulder from the pilot's seat of the jet.

"Great, thanks Nat," Steve responds as he gets up. "You ready?" he asks, standing over you.

"Mmhmm," you nod. You force yourself to keep your eyes on Steve as you feel Loki's eyes fix on you.

"Are you going to..." Steve waves his hand vaguely at you.

"Shift?" you guess and he nods. "Uh... yea, I mean not right now though," you let out a nervous laugh. "Having a bear on a jet doesn't sound like a great idea right? I'll do it when we land."

"Makes sense," Steve agrees easily with a shrug and leaves you to take the copilot seat next to Natasha.

Loki leans towards you and in a hushed voice says, "Remember to stay calm, lille bjørn. You bested my brother and the captain. You will do well today."

You look up at him but his eyes have returned to his book. "Thanks," you tell him, feeling both stunned by his compliment and a bit more confident. He nods in response and you think you see a faint smile on his lips but he doesn't look up until Steve tells you both you will be landing in five minutes.

"We need to get to the computers they have in basement," Steve says as he catches his shield, spins and sends it flying down the hallway again.

Loki raises his hand and with a green glow, throws three Hydra soldiers into a wall, knocking them unconscious. "Y/N and I can hold them back while you and Widow retrieve the files," Loki offers as he sends two more soldiers flying towards you.

You roar in agreement as you turn your attention to the men Loki sent your way. You pin one to the ground and bite his shoulder before swiping the other across the chest with your claw.

"Sounds like a plan," Natasha says as she follows Steve to the door leading to the stairwell.

Loki creates two duplicates, each armed with daggers to block the path to the door. You turn then rear up on your hind legs and slam a soldier to the ground before he is able to take a shot at Loki.

"Nicely done, lille bjørn," he smiles before a duplicate throws a dagger at another Hydra soldier standing behind you.

Fifteen minutes later, Loki's radio crackles with static and he groans in annoyance as he tries to adjust it with one hand while sending a soldier into a wall with his other hand. "Repeat that captain," he says into the radio.

You lift your head to look towards Loki, your paws resting on the chest of the man pinned under you. More static comes through the radio and Loki looks at you with a shrug, his duplicates vanishing as the hallway seems to be empty. In an instant, you move off the soldier you have on the ground and charge towards Loki.

"What-" he tries to ask as you pass him, grabbing the soldier behind him by the neck and bringing him to the ground. You turn your head to look at Loki over your shoulder and he opens his mouth to speak but the radio crackles again.

"Loki-" Steve's voice can barely be heard over the static. "Run- detonated-"

"We can't understand you," Loki says, you can hear the concern in his voice as you walk towards him on all fours. You lift your head and sniff the air, drawing Loki's attention. "What's wrong Y/N?" he asks even though he's knows you can't answer him.

"You need to leave-" Steve's voice comes through clearer. "They detonated the self-destruction protocol! The stairwell is blocked-" the static returns. "Natasha and I-" he cuts out. "We're almost out but you need to leave!"

Your ears perk as a faint beeping grows steadily louder and you can no longer smell any approaching Hydra soldiers. You nudge Loki hard with your nose and force him to start moving, guiding him back the way you had entered the base. You can hear the count down clock but have no way of letting Loki know how little time is left. He runs next to you, relying on your sense of smell to track the multiple hallways you had followed to lead you this deep into the building.

You suddenly realize there isn't enough time for you to reach the exit, the building is going to come down around you both. You stop short in front of one of the containment labs and Loki nearly runs into you.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asks. You stand on your hind legs and push him into the room. He staggers backwards and catches his balance before he falls. "We need to-" you interrupt his words by slamming your paw into the control panel, causing the large metal door to slam shut.

A moment later the building shakes violently and you position yourself over Loki to protect him from falling debris. Alarms blare as the explosion rips through the base and you close your eyes. When you open them again, there is dust in the air and sparks fly from torn cables and wires in the ceiling. You quickly move yourself away from Loki and he looks at you in stunned silence.

Loki gets up, dusting himself off before he moves to the metal door. You slowly walk to a nearby wall and lay down on the ground to rest. He tries to open the door but between the broken control panel and the damage it sustained during the blast, it's no use. He sits next to you, his back against the wall as the radio sparks to life.

"You guys ok?!" Steve asks in a frantic voice.

"We are unharmed," Loki confirms then he looks at you. "Y/N found us somewhere to be protected from the blast but unfortunately we seem to be stuck."

You hang you head in exhaustion and listen to them talk.

"Nat called Tony and the rest of the team. They're on their way but it could be a few hours until we can get you out," Steve tells him. "Just hang tight."

Loki rolls his eyes and sets down the radio, keeping his eyes on you, he says, "Looks like we may be here a while."

You nod in agreement but barely move. You have never been in your bear form for this long before nor have you spent this long constantly fighting and running. You rest your head on your paws and close your eyes.

"Maybe you should become human again," he suggests. "Not that you are not wonderful company as a bear, but you are a bit easier to talk to when you can actually... well talk." He laughs lightly at the last part.

You lift your head to look at him but lower it again slowly. As much as you need to shift back to your human form, you are almost too tired to even think of the pain that awaits you. You know the longer you wait to shift, the worse the pain will be but you just want to sleep.

You finally give into him and push yourself up on all fours, walking away from him with your head hung low. He stays where he is, watching you closely. When you look over your shoulder he lowers his gaze to the floor but not before you see the concern in his eyes.

He is quiet for a moment and says, "I won't watch, if that is what is stopping you." You shake your head no and he sighs. "Do you not want to shift because of how torturous it seems?" You nod without looking at him, unsure how he figured it out when the rest of the team is still in the dark. "Y/N, you are clearly exhausted," he says, touching your fur gently. "You should shift back so you can rest. This form is taking a heavy toll on you."

You move as far from him as you can in the confined space. Closing your eyes, you begin to focus on your breathing, drawing in slow deep breaths as you start the excruciating process of shifting. Your bones feel as if they are breaking and splintering as they shrink to fit your smaller human form. Your muscles ache and cramp from overuse as your extraordinary strength fades away. A growl of pain escapes you as your joints crack and force your body into a more human-like position on your knees.

You curl up in a near fetal position as your body returns to its human form but your senses remain that of a bear. Covering your ears with your hands, you desperately try to block out the smallest sounds which are now amplified. The faint buzzing of the remaining overhead lights, the soft static of Loki's radio, the sparks from the frayed wires. Squeezing your eyes shut, you attempt to protect yourself from how bright the room suddenly seems even thought most of the lights are broken. The smell of smoke, sweat and blood fills your nose and you can do nothing to stop it. You cry out in pain, wishing it would end and all at once, it does.

You try to take a slow, deep breath and are surprised at how easily your lungs open to take in the air. Your heart rate slows and you push yourself into a seated position on the dust covered floor. The sounds and smells that overwhelmed you only seconds ago are gone and you immediately know why.

Loki kneels on the ground in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. A bright green glow emanates from his hands and surrounds you, easing your pain and calming your senses. "Is this helping?" he asks in a low voice and you nod, trying to hold back your tears.

"Why didn't you tell me or anyone else how excruciating this is for you?" he asks, his voice full of worry as he lowers his hands.

You answer quietly, "I can't." Loki is the first person you have allowed to see you shift in almost ten years and it makes you feel vulnerable. You try to stand, wanting to be alone but it's too soon after your shift and you lose your balance.

He catches you in his arms and helps you sit against the wall, your legs still shaking. He sets himself next to you and you lift your head as he waves his hand with another green flourish. "Eat, lille bjørn," he says gently as he hands you a protein bar and sets a bottle of water next to you.

You take a bite of the protein bar and realize it is the one you brought with you. Almost to yourself you say, "I left these on the jet."

"I took your bag," he says as your backpack appears next to him.

"Why?" you take another bite, too tired and hungry to be as annoyed as you want to be at the knowledge that he took your things.

He shifts, crossing his legs as he rubs his hands together, his eyes focused on them. "I knew you would need them. I saw you... in the gym after your final test," he admits and your heart plummets realizing what he saw.

"You saw me...?" you echo his words.

"I didn't mean to," he assures you quickly but it does little to ease your discomfort. You were embarrassed enough that he watched you shift when you knew he was here but for him to have seen you without you knowing was almost to much. He wipes away a tear as it runs down your cheek. "I'm sorry," he says but you don't respond. "I had forgotten something in the training room and when I saw you on the ground like that... I was afraid you were hurt in the fight, you seemed to be in so much pain."

"It wasn't from the fight," you say quietly but you know he already knows that.

"How can you continue to shift when it is so obviously painful for you?" he asks genuinely curious. You ignore his question and finish your bottle of water as he makes a second appear. "You should tell them how hard this is for you," he continues. "You know they would understand if you had to stop."

"No. I can't tell them," you argue quietly and he sighs. "I need to shift. It's hard to explain but... I have to prove that when I'm a bear I can protect my friends and keep the team safe. I have to show everyone that I'm not..." you pause and Loki shifts closer to you, his arm wraps around your shoulder as he gently pulls you towards him. "I need to prove I'm not a monster," you finish, looking down as you bring your knees to your chest.

"Who in this realm could possibly think someone as kind and protective as you could be anything close to a monster?" he asks, his voice laced with true shock. "And that is coming from someone who has quite a lot of experience with the term," he adds trying to ease the tension you feel.

You look up at him and he wipes away another tear. You close your eyes and rest your head against his chest for a moment while you gather your thoughts. He sits quietly, letting you take as much time as you need, his fingers slowly move up and down your arm.

Keeping your eyes closed, you lean into Loki's comforting touch and decide to tell him something you've only ever told one person almost 20 years ago. "The first time I shifted... I was ten," you tell him and he continues to hold you close as you open your eyes.

"My class went on a field trip to the zoo. I remember being so excited that morning," you tell him with a faint smile that fades as you continue. "We spent all day there... my mom even chaperoned," he shifts a bit so he can look at you curiously. "Sometimes parents would come to help the teacher keep track of all the students," you explain and he nods without a word.

"We got to the grizzly bear exhibit and..." you shake your head as the memories flood back. "I don't know how it happened, I didn't mean to but I somehow shifted. I remember pain, excruciating pain and then everyone was screaming. I tried to talk, to tell them it was just me but all I could do was growl. The other students in my class were terrified of me. Everyone was running from me, the students, the teacher, the other parents."

"What about your mother?" he asks.

"My mom..." you say slowly and Loki senses your hesitation. He waits patiently for you to continue, he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you look up at him, surprised by the gesture. He gives you a small smile but you can tell he seems worried about his question.

"My mom was so scared," you confirm his fears. "I tried to talk to her, I tried to ask her what was happening because I was scared too but it only came out as roars and growls. She kept moving away from me. I just wanted a hug..." you shake your head and begin to cry more freely. "I scratched her face with my claw when I reached for her then one of the zookeepers came running to... to protect her from me."

"Your mother left you there?" you can hear the anger in his voice.

Loki easily pulls you onto his lap and you turn your face so you can bury yourself against his chest. He rubs your back gently and you sit up after a moment, wiping your eyes. You look up at him and continue, needing to finish. "He shot me with a dart or something, I guess," you shrug. "I woke up a few hours later. It was dark outside and I was human again but I was trapped alone in a small cage. I screamed for I don't know how long but no one came."

You nod, "The next morning someone from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters came to pick me up. I never saw my parents again after that. I swear never meant to hurt my mom or scare anyone... I was just so afraid and no one could understand me, no one wanted to help."

He hugs you close and you cling to him, "I'm so sorry my lille bjørn." He touches your cheek gently and lifts your head so you are looking at him. "I understand more than most your desire to not be seen as a monster but I want you to know I never saw you in that light. No one on the team could possibly think you are anything other than amazing and if they do, I will personally set them straight about the matter," he says and you feel a smile creep across your lips. He strokes your cheek and says, "I know it will be pointless to continue to plead with you to stop shifting..."

You nod in agreement and quickly sit up, "I can manage the pain. It only hurts for a little while I promise." He looks concerned still and you add, "Please don't tell the team."

"I know this is something you think you need to do," you nod again. "And I will not tell them under one condition," he says calmly. His fingers lift your chin so you are looking into his eyes. "You have to promise you will let me help you," he says.

"Like you did before?" you ask, referring to when he held back your pain after shifting.

You nods, "I can dull your pain and dampen your senses as you shift. You are too sweet and caring to experience something so horrific for simply trying to help others."

"My little bear," he says as his radio crackles and Steve announces the team will have you both out in half an hour.

You blush at his words but he doesn't let you hide your face as he asks, "Do we have a deal?"

"Its a deal," you laugh quietly.

He smiles and pulls you against his chest again, kissing your forehead lightly. You giggle and look up at him suddenly wishing he would kiss your lips. As if he heard your thoughts, his hand finds your cheek again and he gently brings his lips to yours. "My lille bjørn," he calls you as you rest with your arms around him.

"What does that mean?" you finally ask.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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moonlightsolo · 1 year

Text

the spirit tree.

summary: after lo’ak goes missing outside of the reef, neteyam is forced to keep a better eye on his brother. neytiri finally confronts you on what neteyam means to you. tsireya reveals the metkayinas spirit tree, where you can connect with your ancestors.

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!na’vi/human reader

warnings: almost spicy content but not quite, just smooching/heavy kissing, nete being a gentleman <3

note: there’s gonna be one more part to this series, which is almost finished and will be released sometime this week! part 1, 2, 3 here! also my gif :p

part one | part two | part three | part five

“it’s lo’ak. he went outside of the reef and he’s missing.” kiri‘s shaky voice mutters out.

she watches how your face falls from her words, how your breathing picks up and an evident shiver wracks your body. your hand instinctively wraps around her wrist in attempt to save yourself from your own overactive mind.

what if something bad happened to him? neteyam would never be able to forgive himself. it would be your fault that you had him distracted from keeping an eye on his brother.

“i need to go find him.” your eyes search the glowing water for your ilu, ready to summon her.

before you could even act upon your rash idea, four tsuraks soar above the village with metkayina men sitting on the saddles. their voices loudly call out lo’ak’s name as they fly over the water.

“look!” she points up at the sky, making your eyes shift from the water and to her face, “they have it under control. you cannot put yourself in danger too, neteyam would never forgive me if i let you go out there. we have to go find him and my dad.” kiri’s soft voice calms down your heroic efforts.

she gently takes your hand to lead you to the main part of the village, where some villagers are gathered around.

before you could even try to find neteyam in the crowd, kiri starts to weave and bob through the mob of people. “excuse me. coming through.” kiri repeats as you dodge past their elbows.

she finally makes it to an opening that overlooks the water, letting go of your hand to walk over to her mom. tonowari and jake are standing near the edge having a heated discussion with ao’nung standing off to the side.

your eyes skim over the people standing around, until you spot his dark blue skin that contrasts amongst the metkayina.

“neteyam!” you call out, making the boy snap his head towards your voice and his braids swing wildly from the force of his head. the stressed expression on his face softens at the sight of you.

the tall boy takes a few large strides towards you, his arms wrap around your head to pull you closer to him. “lo’ak better come back in one piece so i don’t rip that fish boys head off.” he mumbles quietly enough only for you to hear.

you can’t help but look up at him with wide eyes, making him chuckle from the look you give him. “what? this kid ruined the only time we’ve had alone since we’ve arrived here and left my brother in the middle of the no where.”

your arms tighten around his waist, shrugging in agreement. one of his hands cups the entire backside of your head to guide it against his chest so he could fully embrace you. he lets out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding, almost as if your presence could melt away any of his worries.

a loud horn bellows in the night sky, making both you and neteyam pick your heads up. the giant flying fish touch down in the water right in front of you, a few of them yipping as they swim forward.

“the boy has returned!” someone in the crowd yells.

“it is the sully boy! they found him!” another person shouts.

lo’ak climbs off the back of a tsurak, and signs ‘i see you’ as a thank you when he climbs onto the dock in the water.

once lo’ak notices ao’nung above him, he goes to walk towards him but jake hops down to stop him. “hey, hey.” he urges him to stop, “let’s have a look at you, okay?” jake turns his youngest son to look at his back to inspect him of any injury.

lo’ak doesn’t dare to break eye contact with the chief’s son, staring daggers at him.

“he’s fine.. he’s fine.” jake says reassuringly. the words make the tightness in your chest escape along with an exhale, you and neteyam both sigh in relief. “just a few scratches!” jake announces.

neteyam pulls away from you slightly to go walk forward, his hand sliding into yours instead. neytiri is quick to push her way through the crowd, making neteyam stop mid step. you can tell that she’s furious.

she hops down to where jake and lo’ak are standing below on the dock. her hands grip the boys arms as she looks him over, “i pray for the strength that i will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son!” she growls at him as she motions towards his face with a claw like hand.

lo’ak seems unfazed by his mothers words as he looks up at tonowari, “no.” the chief says, “my son knows better than to take him outside the reef.” his hand cups the back of ao’nungs neck to push him to the ground, forcing the boy to kneel before the sully’s, “the blame is his.”

jake urges his family back up onto land, but lo’ak stops, “no. this is not ao’nungs fault.” he shakes his head, “this was my idea.”

neteyams grip on your hand tightens, his breath shuddering. it takes everything in him to not lose his cool from lo’aks stupid choice to take the blame.

“ao’nung tried to talk me out of it. really.” he speaks to tonowari as jake ushers him to hop up. lo’ak finally gives in, hopping up on the platform where everybody else is standing. “i’m sorry.” he apologizes as he walks past the chief and ronal.

jake is quick to follow him, along with neytiri, kiri and you and neteyam. “dad you told me to make friends with these kids.” lo’ak stops in his tracks, trying to reason why he was outside of the reef, “that’s all i was trying to-.” he’s cut off by his dad.

“i don’t want to hear it.” he snaps, “you brought shame to this family.”

your heart drops from jakes words, eyes widening as you glance up at neteyam, who continues to stare forward. your eyes make their way back to lo’ak, watching how his eyes drop slightly but he doesn’t let his tough demeanor go. “can i go now?” he simply asks.

“any more trouble, i jerk a knot in your tail, you read me?” jakes voice grows angrier with his son.

“yes, sir. lima charlie.” lo’ak throws a dig at his dad, having an evident attitude. jake grunts and motions with his eyes to dismiss lo’ak, who quickly walks away from his family.

you want to follow him, to see if he’s okay after that altercation with his dad. until jake turns toward you and neteyam, neytiri following the same motion.

your heart drops to your ass, making you gulp from their stern gazes. “where were you?” neytiri questions, “yeah. what happened to ‘keep an eye on your brother’?” jake adds.

“sorry, sir.” neteyam gives his dad a nod, his ears lowering slightly from being reprimanded.

“come on.” jake motions to neytiri, “neteyam, go find lo’ak and make sure he gets home.”

neteyam nods, gripping your hand tight to pull you along with him but jake steps in front of you both, just you.” he speaks to his son.

neteyam blinks a few times from his dads orders, his head cocks back in a bit of shock, “but..” he goes to protest, and jake gives him a sharp look. “no but’s- just go. we’ll make sure she gets home.”

neteyam let’s out a little huff, reluctantly letting go of your hand. he looks down at you, giving you a little smile before sliding past his dad and after his brother. jake starts to walk forward, forcing the rest of you to follow behind.

once you reach the marui, jake shoots a indescribable glance at neytiri who’s in front of you.

kiri instantly picks up on it, letting her hand linger on your shoulder as she gives you a smile that says, ‘good luck’, before disappearing inside the pod.

jake follows his daughter, leaving you and neytiri outside. you can feel your heart hammering against your ribs, not knowing if you’re about to get lectured by her.

neytiri lets out a breath, looking at you as she motions towards the edge of the netted platform. this was bound to happen, you’ve been lectured by the sully’s when you were younger but not since you’ve been with neteyam.

once you’re far enough away from the marui, neytiri softly grabs your elbow to stop you.

she tsks out your name, making your heart practically stop mid-beat, “i am not sure what you have going on with my son, or if you have made tsaheylu but…” she clears her throat at the end, obviously just as uncomfortable as you are during this conversation.

“trust me. i mean no malicious intent with neteyam. we.. haven’t bonded that way yet, but i truly care for him.” you ramble out. you’re assuming the next thing she is going to say is that she doesn’t want you to be with him anymore.

neytiri seems taken aback from your rushed words, one of her arms reach out to rest on your upper arm. “i see how much you care for him, as he does for you.” she nods, “you are different from us, but that does not mean your heart is.“

you blink rapidly, gulping down the growing lump in your throat, “my son has good intentions with you. i want to see him happy, but i need him to focus on his family too. it is hard for all of us to be here.”

all you can do is nod, knowing that you would never be able to stop loving that boy. even if his parents disagreed with your relationship.

wait… love? you love him?

you keep your thoughts to yourself as neytiri talks, her hand pats your arm before saying goodnight and walking back into the main pod. you take a moment to look out over the water, staring down at the glowing bioluminescent reef.

you decide to sit down, letting your legs hang over the edge as your mind ponders on everything that just happened.

you love neteyam, and for some reason you haven’t realized that until now.

your eyes watch the fish that scurry through the water, until you feel footsteps coming up from behind you. a warm hand grips your shoulder from above, making you turn to look up at them.

neteyam.

his braids hang around his face perfectly as he smiles down at you, flashing his little bunny teeth you’ve grown so fond of. “nete..” you breathe out in relief, practically throwing yourself at him.

he easily lifts you up onto your feet, his arms wrapped around your waist. “woah. you okay?” he chuckles as his hand rubs over the small of your back.

you peek over his shoulder, watching lo’ak slip inside of the darkened pod to head to bed. this is your opportunity to talk to him.

you unravel yourself from around his neck, pressing your hands against his chest to pull back but he refuses, “what is wrong, my love?” his knuckles brush against your cheekbone with a concerned look on his face.

“i think…” you breathe out, your heart thumps heavy in your eardrums, “i.. i’m just tired. i want to go to bed.” you murmur, trying your hardest not to make eye contact with him. you know if you would, he would be able to see through your lies.

neteyam nods, but obviously he doesn’t fully believe you. he quietly sneaks you both back into the marui, tiptoeing around his sleeping siblings to your area in the far back corner.

he lays down with you, situating himself behind you with his chest pressed against your back. he leaves a soft kiss against your jawline once he snuggles against you which quickly sends you into a deep sleep.

sometime in the early morning, you’re awoken by neteyam’s warmth leaving your body. you groan in protest, making him shush you by pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“come on, bro. hurry up.” lo’ak rushes him quietly.

“what are you two doing?” kiri mumbles sleepily in the dark room.

your eyes shoot open to watch neteyam and lo’ak sneak out, and kiri is sitting up on her elbows with one of her eyes peeked open.

“what is wrong with them…” she grumbles to herself as she pushes the blanket off of her body to stand up and follow.

you sigh in annoyance, knowing you will have to go after them. you frustratingly kick the blankets off of your body, grumbling to yourself as you shuffle towards the opening.

peeking outside of the entrance, you see a glimpse of kiri’s tail rounding a corner so you quickly take off after them. you scurry like a mouse, quiet but swift. you catch up to the girl, who is tailing them closely but not enough for them to notice. “i wonder what they’re doing.” she whispers to you, and you reply with a shrug.

the boys hop off the side of the netted walkway and into the sand, pushing each other around and laughing. by now, the sun has barely risen above the horizon, brightening the night sky.

three other na’vi are standing in the distance, tsireya, roxto, and ao’nung. your eyebrows furrow as they all sit down in a circle on some rocks, “come on.” you motion for kiri to follow, hopping off the side to follow their footsteps.

“i was hoping you two would be coming too!” tsireya waves with a bright smile, which you mirror. neteyam and lo’ak turn their heads to look at you both, pure confusion riddles their features.

instead of sitting beside neteyam, you make yourself comfortable between kiri and ao’nung. he can’t help but stare at you from across ao’nung’s body, wondering why you decided to sit there instead of with him.

“i told ao’nung last night to bring everyone here so i could tell you what happened out there.” lo’ak clears his throat softly before continuing.

he continues to tell a long story about a very vicious nalutsa and a heroic tulkun at three brothers rocks. he thought he died, but the tulkun saved his life and kept him safe.

specifically one that had a missing fin, which tsireya instantly recognized as the outcast named payakan- who is also coincidentally a ‘killer.’

“i’m telling you guys, he saved my life! he’s my friend.” lo’ak looks around the group for someone to back him up, but receives nothing but worried looks.

“my baby bro!” neteyam stands up and places his hands on lo’aks shoulders, “the mighty warrior who faced the killer tulkun, and lived to tell about it, huh?”

lo’ak shoves his shoulders back as he stands up, pushing his brother off with a hiss. “you guys aren’t listening.” he huffs and walks away down the beach.

“lo’ak, i’m listening.” you shout.

“lo’ak, come back!” kiri calls for him, but being the stubborn boy he is, he doesn’t listen.

instead of chasing after him, tsireya decides it’s time for all of you to visit the cove of the ancestors. essentially, their own tree of souls.

the five of you summon your ilus to the shore, tsireya and rotxo leading the way underwater to a cave. once all of you successfully pass through the waterway, tsireya pulls up to the surface.

“we are here. this is the cove of the ancestors. our most sacred place.”

high above you, stacked rocks sit high in the sky in a half-moon shape and floating rocks scatter the sky around it. your eyes take in the new environment, unable to contain the smile that breaks out onto your face.

as the rest of you travel farther in the water, the sun starts to hide behind the giant planet that pandora orbits around. “eclipse is the best time of day to be here.”

once the sun disappears and plunges the world around you into darkness. the water in front of you comes to life, a bright light emits from under the water

“this is it. this is the spirit tree.” tsireya motions with her hand to the glowing water, making you lean over your animal to look down into the ocean.

“it’s beautiful.” you glance over at tsireya, who nods in agreement.

“follow me.” she slides off the side of her ilu and into the water, diving down towards the tree. you look over at neteyam, smiling softly at the boy before following her into the water.

once your eyes open underneath, you’re welcomed by the bright-colored pink leaves of the tree dancing with the current of the water.

as you swim farther down with everyone, you notice vines cascade down the tree that connect to the sea floor, and schools of orange glowing fish swim throughout the branches.

tsireya signs with her hands to connect with the tree, making you reach around your back to grab your braid and bring it forward. the pink tendrils emerge from the end of your plait, coiling around a branch.

instant peace fills your body once you successfully bond with the plant, your eyes flutter shut as you transfer to the ancestral plane.

the ground beneath your body is warm; the smell of dirt fills your senses, a smell you wish you could bottle up and take back with you to the island. your hands reach out, gripping the blades of glass in your fist.

you sit up in your spot with your eyes open, realizing you’re back in the forest. trees surround you as the sun beats down on your head, the wind rustles the leaves of the trees. you take a deep breath of the fresh air, before standing up to examine your surroundings.

something amongst the tree line emerges, making your ears perk up. a forest na’vi. you’re not apprehensive, but more so curious on who this person is.

as he grows closer, you realize he looks quite familiar. as if you’ve seen him somewhere, maybe he is omatikaya?

“maite?” he speaks the native tongue of the na’vi. the word he spoke makes your heart lurch in your chest; daughter.

“dad?” you whisper out into the air. he nods at your question, a giant grin forming on his face.

you can’t help but run forward, almost tackling the man with a hug. the warmth of his body is comforting as he wraps his arms around you, “my daughter. you have grown so much.” one of his hands smooths down the back of your head as you sniffle.

you pull back to get a good look at him once more, seeing yourself in his face.

a tear escapes from your eye, but he quickly catches it with one of his four fingers. he tsks, shaking his head, “ma child, do not cry. i must tell you something.”

you blink rapidly in attempt to fight back your tears, “what is it?”

“something is coming. a war that needs to be ended between the terran people and us…” before he could continue, the sky above you begins to flash wildly.

you can feel the connection growing weaker as the world around you starts to chip away, “no! i’m not ready to leave yet.” you cling to him frantically as you look around.

your father grabs your face, turning you towards him to talk to you directly, “my daughter, you are a strong woman. i have seen what you have overcome. you are the key to everything.” he embraces you once more just before you’re ripped away from each other.

you let out a scream as you come back to reality, bubbles escaping your mouth. the tree in front of you is beaming wildly, making you look around at the others.

kiri’s glowing freckles flash in sync with the tree as her body stiffens and shakes involuntarily. you rip your braid away from the tree, swimming over to her along with neteyam.

you quickly disconnect kiri’s connection with the tree, making the water around you go dark. neteyam wraps his arm around her waist, swimming up back to his ilu with you following.

he breaches the surface and lays her limp body on the backside of his animal, cradling her in his lap as he gives her air with his own mouth.

“what is it? what has happened?” tsireya asks from the side.

“it was a seizure. we need to get her back to the village.” neteyam looks down at you, his big eyes full of worry.

“go! get her to the village!” you urge him.

“let’s go! let’s move!” he calls out to his ilu, making it accelerate speedily back towards home.

you swim to your ilu, taking one last glance at the darkened tree before taking off after everyone else. once you make it back to the island, you hop off your ilu and sprint through the village to the marui.

neteyam is outside pacing, stressfully running a hand through his braids. inside, kiri is laid on the floor ontop of a blanket with neytiri and tuk by her side. jake is in the corner, using a radio to talk to norm and max.

“hey!” you call out to him breathlessly, obviously strained from running all this way.

once he sees you, his tense shoulders drop a little farther away from his ears. he seems so relieved to see you. he steps forward to meet you in the middle, his arms embracing your body tightly.

“i didn’t know what to do.” he whispers helplessly, his voice strained from the growing lump in his throat. “you did everything you could, ‘teyam. she’s breathing right now because of you.”

he shakes his head, looking down at his feet between your bodies. you watch his lower lip begin to quiver as his emotions take over.

your hand cups his cheek to pull him down to you, his face nuzzles into the crook of your neck as his body trembles under your touch. you softly shush him, rubbing his back as he silently weeps into your shoulder.

once the eclipse ceases, the sun brightens the sky and brings in norm and max with their gear. you sit outside the marui in the sand, not wanting to take up space for them to help kiri. your finger absentmindedly draws shapes in the sand until the sea comes up to wash it away.

the two sully brothers make their way over to you, neteyam plops down beside you and lo’ak on the other side of him. “what are you doing?” lo’ak asks, peeking over at you with curious eyes.

“passing time.” you hum softly, giving him a soft smile before it drops off of your face and you look back down at the white sand.

“you okay?” neteyam questions, one of his arms wrap around your shoulders as his head cranes down to look at your face.

“i’m fine.” you mumble simply, making him pull back from you to shoot lo’ak a worried look.

the younger boy shrugs, not sure what to do or say. neteyam motions with his head for his brother to leave, which lo’ak complies to but not without a exaggerated sigh.

“what happened at the spirit tree?” he questions, making your shoulders fall even more. your finger continues to carve patterns into the sand, not daring to look up at him because you know you will cry.

“nothing, neteyam.” you breathe out, letting your head fall into your bent knees.

“i will keep bothering you if you don’t tell me.” he softly lets his fingers dance down your back.

“i..” you trail off, trying to calm down your emotions before you continue, “i saw my father. for the first time at the spirit tree. i was torn away from him, i couldn’t say goodbye and we were back in the forest..” your voice cracks, making your body shudder, “i miss it, i miss it so much.”

neteyam notices the emotion in your voice, making him pull your body into his side. before he could say anything, lo’ak yells from the far side of the beach. “she’s awake!”

his head turns to look at his brother, then back down to you, “i’ll be back, okay? stay here.”

you shake your head as you lift your head, wiping your tears away as you sniffle. “no, no. i’m fine. i want to see her.”

he nods and grabs your hand to bring you back home, “c’mon.”

kiri is happy to see you, but you’re quickly ushered away by neytiri to let her rest. tuk stays by the girls side the entire time, reading stories to her and getting her anything she possibly could need.

you decide to lay in one of the hammocks in the marui as your hands make themselves busy by beading a new top for yourself.

a loud conch horn blows, startling you and making you sit up, “what is that?”

commotion outside of the pod makes you slide out of the hammock to walk outside.

the metkayina leap off of their maruis and into the water, calling their bonded animals to swim out to sea. your eyes look over the busy water in attempt to find out what all the commotion is about.

you gasp in shock as a tulkun leaps out of the ocean, before falling back into the water with a giant splash.

“the tulkun have returned! everybody, our brothers and sisters have returned!” tsireya calls out as her people whoop in excitement around her.

“come on!” neteyam appears from behind you, his hand gripping yours to pull you along to the edge of the walkway. he leaps off with you right behind him, his ilu catching you both.

he takes off towards the reunion, soaring through the water above the surface until he reaches the chaos of tulkuns and villagers.

metkayina fly above your heads on their tsuraks, and fill the water with their ilus- it seems every na’vi is out here right now.

you lean over to look up at neteyam’s face, a giant grin pulled up on his lips. he lets out a little laugh before turning towards you, “this is amazing.” he mumbles in awe.

everyone begins to dive under the water to greet their brothers and sisters, making you point for him to follow. you both take deep breaths before plunging into the depths of the sea. it’s even more magnificent down here.

watching the metkayina interact with their tulkuns makes you a tiny bit jealous, wishing you could have a bond like that with such a clever animal. not that the ilu’s aren’t, but the tulkun are family members of the metkayina.

you hold onto neteyam tightly as his guides his ilu through the water, seemingly leaving the area where the tulkun are meeting. you tap his arm, pointing to go back but he shakes his head no with a little cheeky grin.

neteyam continues through the ocean, weaving through the rocks and coral, and passing through schools of fish. he finally breaches the surface near the shore, hopping off and pulling himself up onto the bouncy platform.

“what are we doing? i want to go back.” you grumble, but still take his hand when he reaches out to help you up. “just follow me.”

he continues to hold your hand, leading you back to the marui. he came back because he wanted to go home? seriously?

you stop in your tracks, stubbornly refusing to walk inside. “what are you doing?” he questions after head whips towards you, looking you up and down.

“we came back here just to go home?” you bite back, a little too sassily for his liking. the boy rolls his eyes, and turns around towards you.

his other hand grips your chin to angle your face up so he could lean down to kiss you. instead of pressing his lips against yours, he hovers. his warm breath fans over your face while his heavy-lidded eyes scan your expression. he’s such a tease.

“i decided it would be best to use the empty village to finish what we started yesterday.”

you evidently shudder from his words, a heat growing low in your belly. you guess it makes sense, being all alone and knowing nobody will be coming to bother you guys for a while.

neteyam lets out a breathy laugh, watching your brain go into overdrive as the thoughts roll through your mind. he uses both of his hands to cup under your jaw as he finally leans in to kiss you. the boy is hungry, and desperate for every single part of you.

he presses his body weight into your own, making you stumble into the outside wall of the pod. one of his knees spread your legs, slotting itself between your thighs.

his knee presses against your center, making you suck in a sharp breath. he uses this as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, wiggling his tongue past your lips.

your fingers slightly dig into his sides, in attempt to pull him into you even closer. neteyam leans back from the wall, his mouth still on yours as he leads you inside.

both pairs of your feet disregard anything on the ground, knocking everything to the side as he guides you to the very back of the marui. he huffs into the kiss, somehow continuing to kiss you as he lays you down on the floor.

your lips slightly disconnect as your head hits your pillow, giving him a moment to move along your jaw. he leaves wet kisses down your neck, his teeth slightly nipping the skin.

your hands card through his braids, nails slightly scratching his scalp which earns a melodic purr from him. the sound makes your insides do somersaults, your legs instinctively wrap around his body to pull your hips together.

another magnificent sound tumbles from his wet lips against your skin. neteyam pauses and lays his forehead against your shoulder.

“you okay?” your hand pushes his head away from you so you could get a good look at him.

his eyes dart over your face, “i’m fine, i promise. i just…” he sighs and squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s internally battling himself, “i don’t want to take advantage of you.”

your face screws up in confusion as you wait for him to continue, “mating is a complicated thing. we are meant to mate before eywa, to make tsaheylu and…” he trails off.

“and marry… for life.” you add onto his sentence and he nods.

neteyam is not the innocent boy he’s made out to be, and is definitely not traditional with the entire ‘absinence before marriage’ thing, “but you’ve had sex with other girls?” you question him, already knowing the answer to this question.

word travels fast in the omatikaya clan.

the boy slightly laughs from your question, rolling off of you so he could lay next to you instead. “i have, but they are not you.”

your heart squeezes in your chest as you smile from his words. “that makes me feel special.” you murmur out into the heated air.

“that is because you are special. i want our first time to not be rushed.” he confesses with a huff.

you roll over onto him, one of your legs crossing over his hips as your head rests on his chest. you listen to his quickened heartbeat begin to slow down, “ma neteyam, i see you.”

“i see you.” he replies and presses a kiss against your forehead.

the two of you lay there in silence wrapped in each others embrace and growing more sleepy by the second. soon, gray clouds cover the blue sky and raindrops patter against the roof of the marui.

you and neteyam are tangled together as you drift off to sleep in each others arms.

the rest of sully family returns from the celebration of the tulkun arriving, walking in on you two sleeping alongside each other.

“aww, they’re so cute!” tuk whispers as she sneaks over to you both, pulling a blanket over your bodies.

they continue on quietly inside the hut, preparing dinner and lighting a fire.

once you awaken, neteyam is no longer next to you and instead is replaced by a pillow. you turn over onto your side to see him sitting with his parents talking, making them laugh as always.

until tonowari appears in front of the entrance, making your blood run cold. their soft chatter halts as jake and neytiri get up to walk outside to speak to him.

neytiri is the first to come back in, huffing frustratingly as she busies herself by cutting up food on a board.

“mom? what’s going on?” neteyam questions quietly, almost whispering.

you take the moment to close your eyes, pretending to still be asleep so you could listen.

“the sky people- they are here looking for us. destroying villages. tearing them apart.” her chopping grows more erratic. somebody walks inside of the hut, most likely jake, that sits down next to neytiri and neteyam.

“we must hunt this demon. trap him. kill him.” she begs desperately.

“we’ve got to be smart. if we hit quartich they’re gonna know where we are and they’re gonna come here with everything they’ve got.” jake explains to neytiri.

“then what is our plan?” she huffs.

“i don’t have one right now. i need to speak more with tonowari.” jake sighs.

“dad, i can fight whenever the time comes. i will train y/n too. she will be a great warrior alongside me.” his offer makes your heart soar into the clouds.

“good idea, boy. help her with her combat skills so she can fight when the time comes.“ jake agrees.

….

neteyam has accompanied lo’ak out in the water, by the order of his parents to ‘keep an eye on him,’ but you weren’t invited.

you’re left with kiri and tuk to help prepare dinner, but every movement you make is exaggerated from your attitude.

kiri and tuk glance at each other worryingly, wondering what has gotten you in this mood.

you huff as you shove the cutting board away from you, swiftly standing on your feet to storm away from them to your designated corner. you pull out a book to read, eyes skimming over the pages that you dread reading.

“ugh!” you groan to yourself, slamming the book shut and turning over on your side to stare at the weaved wall.

kiri and tuk turn to look at you, then they glance at each other again. tuk stands up from her spot, slowly creeping over to you. her soft voice calls out your name, making your tense shoulders drop slightly.

your head angles back to look at her, “hey tuk.”

“are you okay?” she sits down, folding her legs under her body.

“i’m okay. i just have a lot on my mind.” you slightly laugh to keep your problems humorous instead of sulking.

“do you want some food? me and kiri can make you something!” she chirps happily and slightly bounces in her seat.

“no, no. i’m okay, really. i’m not hungry.” you mumble.

“then… do you want to go out to the beach and play?” she asks a little shyly.

as much as you would like to rot away in this corner, you cannot say no to her. “of course. let’s go, tuk.”

the girl squeals in excitement and grabs your hand to help you stand up. she pulls you outside and down to the beach, “let’s build a sand castle!” she plops down on the ground and starts to pile the sand.

you sit down next to her to help push the sand, patting down the wet stuff that stays into place. tuk starts to build up towers, looking a little wonky which makes her giggle.

her eyes glance up, then back down at the castle before she double-takes something behind you, “uh oh.” she looks really worried, making your head turn to see what she is looking at.

your heart drops at the sight of tonowari leading lo’ak, tsireya, ao’nung, rotxo, and neteyam to the center of the village with ronal tailing them.

“oh shit.” you mutter out as your eyes stay glued to them as they walk by on the walkway. “i wonder what happened to get them escorted by them.” you snort as you continue to help tuk build the castle.

“probably something bad… like always.” she rolls her eyes as she pats down the sand to make the top flat.

you continue to slap sand higher up and dig little holes with your fingers that are supposed to be windows. tuk finally finishes it off with a few shells to decorate it, clapping her hands with a laugh. “all done!” she stands up to walk to the water and rinse her hands off, which you do the same.

just as you both are about to go back home, neteyam rushes by following his parents who are following lo’ak.

“mom!” tuk yells out, making neytiri turn her heads toward you both.

“tuk! what are you doing?” she looks over you, then at the mound of sand behind you. “come.” she ushers you both with her hand.

“let’s go, tuktuk.” you lift the little girl onto the walkway before climbing up yourself to follow them. she quickly grabs ahold of her mothers hand before she is rushed away.

neteyam slows down to walk beside you, “so what happened now?” you ask flatly.

“lo’ak, he bonded with the outcast. payakan is not the killer he is made out to be and tsireya’s parents don’t believe him.” neteyam whispers to you.

“i could have told you that.” you almost laugh, “i wish i would have been there to see.”

“i should have brought you, i’m sorry.” he glances at you in his peripheral vision.

“it’s okay, nete. i had fun with tuk anyway.” you hum as you lean into his side. his arm instinctively wraps around your shoulders, “more fun than me?”

“oh, of course she is more fun than you.” you play around. he jokingly grabs his chest as if he was stabbed, “ouch. that hurt.”

“i’m sorry. do you want me to kiss it better?” you make fake puppy-dog eyes, blinking up at him through your eyelashes.

neteyam goes to answer but he’s cut off by thunder cracking in the sky. rain suddenly starts to downpour, making you squeal and run the rest of the way to the marui.

kiri had finished dinner for the family once you all arrived, the smell of the food makes your stomach rumble alongside the clouds. you didn’t realize how hungry you were.

mid-bite, tonowari and ronal appear at the entrance of the pods, “a deceased tulkun was spotted outside of the reef. we need to hurry.” tonowari calls for neytiri and jake.

“everybody stay here. neteyam, you’re in charge.” jake orders as he leaves with neytiri.

all of a sudden, your food doesn’t look as apetitizing as before. you swallow the last bit left in your mouth, your worried eyes glance over the rest of the sully family.

“a tulkun… dead?” kiri lets out an exhale.

“it better not be payakan. i need to go see if he’s okay.” lo’ak goes to stand but neteyam is quick on his feet.

“you can’t leave. it’s not safe.” he gently pushes his brother back, but lo’ak puts up a fight.

“i don’t care. let me through.” the younger boy tries to get around him, but neteyam steps in front of him again.

“no. it’s them. they’re here looking for us, bro. the rda. the sky people.” neteyam warns him. lo’ak stops his efforts of trying to escape, taking a step back.

“they’re here?” kiri looks around worriedly, “do they have spider with them?”

neteyam looks at kiri over his brothers shoulder, “i don’t know, but i know they just burnt down an entire village not too far from here all because they couldn’t find anything.”

your heart sinks as you listen to neteyam.

are the sky people really going to find you and the sully family? if they would burn down an entire village for not finding any information, what will they do if they find you here?

tags: @k----a27s @aspenreadsfanfic @aliseaaah @bellwhether @xoxobabe @koalalafications @embersfae @mae-is-crazy @softhetixx @minkyungseokie @iwanttohitmyself @neqeyam @lovedbychoi @lala-1516 @jbxws @ancientbeing10 @angrycoffeebean @taleiak @nyenye @vivangothic @theunfortunateplace @jakesully-sbabygirl @urdeadpoet

also same thing goes for this one. no feedback = blocked (jk) 😈

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chuluoyi · 4 months

Text

✎ sick days

- gojo satoru x reader

who holds the fort when you fall sick? of course, it's your lovesick husband and baby!

genre: fluff, fluff, fluffff. basically, your baby is adorable, gojo is your husband and not only is he lovesick with you, he humors your baby so much it’s making me— sighs

note: based on this post! hi hi chu is back from vacation and here’s another dad!gojo fluff indulgence and we stan domestic men okay🤭

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

It's plain sight that Gojo Satoru is a highly attractive individual, and now that he has a son, it's fair to say that he’s the hottest dilf on the block.

With one hand twirling a famous brand of flu medicine box and the other propping his baby son at his hip, he garnered curious eyes, even in drugstore near his home.

“Hmm, why is it so cheap? Suspicious…”

Satoru let out a light hum, studying the orange and pink boxes, as well as glancing at the other purple box with bold labels claiming its effectiveness in halting cold symptoms, and then looked at his son.

His baby's big, crystal blue eyes blinked in wonder at the vibrant colors, and he reached out with grubby hands towards them. “Bwah!”

Suddenly, he got an idea.

“Hey, kiddo. Which do you think is better for mama?” he asked the baby, gesturing at the all three medicine on the rack with his jaw. “You choose.”

As if on cue, the little ball of fluff that was his son immediately reached out for the purple box, the more expensive out of all three displayed before him. Without missing a beat, he also seized both the orange and pink boxes in quick succession, holding them close to his chest.

Satoru broke into a hearty laugh, a wide grin split his face, as he affectionately tousled the boy's head with pride.

“That's my boy! Splurging is allowed—after all, we're rich!”

When the first signs of cold manifested in you, Satoru was already worried. He had warned you to take more rest, but typical you, you brushed it off as a mere fatigue.

And when this morning, you woke up to sudden coughing fits and hot-and-cold spells, which ended up with kicking him out of your shared bedroom in fear of spreading the virus, like the doting husband he was, Satoru promptly headed to the pharmacy with your baby in tow to get you some help.

"Oh my, sir, your son is so adorable!" the female cashier gushed when he got over to pay, finally voicing what other customers thought in their heads. He could sense the discreet glances from those around him even now.

As the baby clung to his shirt, Satoru tightened his grip on him and responded with a self-assured grin, ensuring those nearby heard his words, "Of course he is! My wife is pretty as heck too, shame she's down with fever today."

"Aww! Such high praise, you must adore your wife!"

"Mm-hmm!"

Ah, so he still has a wife. The other customers went about their day, some disappointed that the dilf was still evidently devoted to his wife. They could only wonder just who could the lucky woman was.

Moving on— after the short trip to the drugstore, Satoru went back home. He promptly checked on you in your master bedroom, inquiring, "Hey, how are—"

But he immediately halted upon seeing you nestled so comfortably under the blankets, sleeping soundly. For a moment, he simply stood, blinking and observing your serene slumber.

Strange that something inside him both softened and lurched at the sight. You were just that precious in his eyes. Stupid as it was, he was quite miserable to go through the day without your nagging and nitpicking. And above all, he never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort—it made his protective instincts soar.

Hence his thought— there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, even if it means sacrificing heaven itself.

“Myah!” A hard shove on his arm and his baby’s babbling snapped him out of his trance. Satoru shifted his baby to his other hand, let out a questioning hum, and affectionately pinched his mochi-like cheeks.

“Hmm? You can’t be hungry, I—oooh,” a sheepish expression of realization appeared on his face, his blue eyes widened slightly as his baby glared at him. Then, chuckling like the goofball he was, Satoru patted him on his head to appease his grudge, “I haven’t fed you since this morning, eh?”

“Fwah!”

“Pfft! There, there… Me is sorry~ Now let me whip something up for you and mama, yeah?”

Now, he wouldn't claim to be the best chef, but he could certainly cook to save himself. Rolling up his sleeve, he went to the kitchen after leaving and stuffing his baby boy with a pacifier on his high chair.

“Hmmm, baby food for the minion and… congee? Yeah, congee should be good.”

Next task was feeding his already seething baby after he mixed together his baby food. He was a fussy eater—mostly with him, but surprisingly not so much with you (apparently, that's just his way of showing who he favors between his parents, heh). But when he managed to get the food in, with every spoonful, his son’s smile gradually widened, and so did his happiness.

Satoru thought then that he was the cutest thing he had ever created. His son was clearly a mini-him, but his reactions were definitely so you.

“Is it tasty? It is, isn’t it?” he cooed with baby voice, earning a delightful giggle in response from his son. Pushing his luck, he added with a suggestive grin, “Papa is the best, isn’t he?”

“Bwah...” The joyful expression on his baby's face faded instantly, dissolving into an unamused pout, prompting Satoru to righteously click his tongue.

“Why are you so against me?!”

After he was done with his fill, Satoru picked your baby up to the master bedroom to bring you something to eat. Seated on the opposite edge of the bed, he silently adored your sleeping form once again.

Right at that moment, the baby in his arms wriggled, reaching out for you. Acting on a sudden impulse, he put him on the bed, facing you.

“Now, go to mama, would you?” he whispered gently, grinning and giving his bum a light pat. “Go!”

Your son was also Gojo Satoru’s son, therefore he was an adept crawler even at barely seven months old. With remarkable agility, the little soldier steadily moved towards you, his diapers jiggling with each motion. He stopped right in front of your face, clearly recognizing you as his mother.

And your husband swore that even his logic-driven heart melted at the sight of your cute baby suddenly leaned in and clumsily smooched your nose.

Simply just the two most treasured loves of his life.

“Mm?” you let out a soft grunt, feeling the dryness in your throat as you cracked your eyes open, surprised to find yourself face-to-face with your baby. “Oh… why are you here? Don’t get too close…”

“He’ll be fine.” Satoru picked your son up, placing him on his knee and steadying him with one arm. Having moved next to you on the bed, he brushed hair from your forehead. “What about you, hmm? Feeling better?”

Your eyebrows creased into a frown. “Yeah, I think, but more than that, Satoru, I’ve told you, don’t let him—”

“Yes, yes, sweetheart. He won’t get sick, look, he’s as healthy as he can be~” and to make a point, he turned his baby over and lightly smacked his bottom, prompting a whimper from the little one and a gasp from you.

“Don’t spank him!”

“Ehh? Then can I spank you instead?”

“Satoru, you’re a little piece of—!”

Just you and him, as well as the little treasure that was your son. This little family was enough reason to live. To win.

And Gojo Satoru once again thought, that being the strongest didn’t really mean that much anymore because with his world in his hands, nothing else matters.

Epilogue

“You’re so silly, why did you buy so many?” you grumbled at the sight of three different brands of cold medicine your husband displayed in front of you. “One is enough, do you want me to overdose?”

Satoru snickered. “Don’t blame me, blame your kid. He’s the one picking all of them.”

You totally didn’t get what he meant at all, but yeah, your husband was the silliest human ever and that’s that.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s a bit smelly here?” Satoru suddenly asked, wearing a quizzical expression.

You took a sniff of the air, glancing at your baby blinking innocently and sitting calmly on your husband, and a realization struck you. “Uh, Satoru...”

Following your gaze, as if sensing an omen, Satoru hastily scooped up his son, letting out a bewildered gasp as he felt a slight wetness where the baby had been sitting on him.

“Did he just poo on me?!”

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ronearoundblindly · 3 months

Text

Hideout (3.1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sensitive Boy, part I (see previous or series)

Summary: Steve surprises you with help at the perfect time.

Warnings for light smut (I have to split this chapter or it's just suddenly twice as long as the last, but really there's just massage and an implied orgasm in this half. You know me: too many feels and too much development...) MINORS DNI. This series is 18+ only. If you are underage or simply enjoy lighter content, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this post is not for you! WC 3.2k

With so much on your mind, scaring the crap out of you is not difficult, so his strong hands hold you upright.

“Don’t do that,” you shriek, barely glancing at Steve’s face. You startled so suddenly your housekeeping cart is left rolling away at a snail’s pace.

“Sorry, I—“ long arms abandon you and reach to stop the bin “—it said on your website you were closed for renovations, and…”

You look him up and down. You were sure after he left two months ago that you’d never see him again. You’d gone too far. You’d pushed him too hard. He wasn’t ready.

Steve adjusts the strap over his shoulder. “I thought maybe I could help out…if you want?”

The last guests checked out a half-hour ago, and you readied to spend the whole week meticulously refreshing each room with your parents. The list of what needs done, however, doesn’t only include the motel. There’s a bunch you all had let slide up at the house. Help would…be extremely helpful actually.

Steve pulls a paper bag out of his knapsack. “Or I brought you some lunch if you just want a break or something.”

“It’s okay,” you rush out. “More than okay. Thank you, yes. We’d love—I’d love that.”

No one else can know it’s him-him there though. You’ll have to think of a way to keep your parents and St-‘Grant’ as far apart as possible, and how long you can manage that is…questionable.

If Steve’s not worried though, you’re okay.

Turns out, keeping your family up at the house is easy. Your mom shouts down the phone with relief that she can tackle the fridge, and you hear your dad mumble something about ‘the garage in daylight.’ You can enjoy a sandwich in the office with Steve in peace, explaining what all needs done before the electricians show up Friday afternoon.

The closure hasn’t been planned for a long time—not even before Steve and ‘Tom’s’ last visit—hence why you just painted Room 8, 5, 2, and 1 since March, but doing all those is how you and your parents really noticed that the light fixtures from the ‘90s were not only dated but very worn and that the same color layered over and over again for twenty years was, well, getting old.

Warmer months are better for the work. Pipes won’t freeze while you air out paint fumes, etc. The week after the gigantic, city festivities of Independence Day is notoriously dead. Since there were no reservations this stretch as of April, the family jumped at the chance to fix it all in one big, daunting go.

Saying you’d looked forward to this is a wild overstatement. You’ll be glad when it’s finished, and that’s the bulk of your excitement.

With his assistance though? Hope soars.

Steve will help you take down the sconces, the hanging lamps, and the panels above the vanities, then you both can—

“Where’s the paint?”

He’s very intense with the gameplan. Three guesses why.

“Dad’s gonna pick it up today. Probably. I’ll text him.” You whip out your cell again. “We didn’t think we’d get that far by evening.”

Steve nods.

“We also need to move all the furniture away from the walls and drape plastic to protect the carpet. Oh, and put tape along the trim and doorframes, ya know.”

Steve nods again. He wads up the wrapping from his sandwich and casually asks, “are all the doors open?”

You only just get your finger in the air to point at the desk.

“Master key is—“

But Steve is observant and has clocked everything about his surroundings each time he’s stayed, apparently. He stretches over to the wall beyond the counter, snatches the (correct) unmarked key, and heads out the door.

The service bell rings gently to emphasize the conversation is over.

All furniture in every room is pulled away by the time you finish sanitizing the one guest room he interrupted.

He asks where you keep the ladder, not that he’ll need it, but you will for reaching some of the lights.

You don’t know whether to be in awe of or exhausted by his efficiency.

He’s rigid and militant—go figure—until these few moments he suddenly can’t be.

As you toss plastic over the last bed to move, Steve yanks that sucker across the floor so fast, you roll off. His eyes are saucers as he apologizes, but you get the giggles and pick yourself up.

His fingers can’t separate thin layers of the plastic at one point, and he throws a minor fit until three rip apart together. Steve frowns at you and grumbles that he’s only ever used cloth for this before. It seems to take everything in his power not to say “back in my day,” but you can read between the lines.

Years of crusted paint makes the removal of some fixtures tricky.

Steve rips out one stripped screw with needle nose pliers, squeaks in alarm at the hole left behind, and then quietly asks if you have patch paste.

You call your dad before he’s left to buy paint. He adds spackling to the list.

The closest Steve comes to telling you anything specifically about himself is when you struggle with a stuck bolt.

“Just a little trick I learned when I was—“ Steve wraps his big hand around yours to pull the wrench instead of push from the other direction “—smaller.” He huffs out a laugh, adding, “when I couldn’t, ya know, ‘put my weight into it’ because a feather could’a knocked me over.”

As you relish the simple contact of his fingers, you smile, too.

“Hmm. I heard you got into back alley scrapes.”

“If you heard that I won any of those, you were lied to.” He patiently waits for you to finish removing the bolt before he pries the aged metal and glass away from the old paint it’s stuck in. Steve sighs dramatically.

“Shoddy education these days…”

“I…” You tap his bicep with the claws of the wrench. “I can’t argue with that. We hear only what they tell us about…heroes.”

You should have known he’d shut down at that word, but it’s the truth. Even with him right in front of you, the only things you know about Steve Rogers are from books, newspapers, and the internet. At face value—looking directly into the face of this man—all of what you’ve been told is hogwash. It’s insufficient. It barely covers 1% of who this man is.

He teaches you tricks of the weak man’s trade because it helped him once, too. Today, he’s friendly. Not that he was unfriendly before, but Steve is so reserved he never reference the past, in general, i.e. that there was a past existence of like the planet much less him.

It’s the number one rule of Fight Club: you don’t talk about Fight Club.

If there was ever a real fight club, it’s the Avengers.

You have no official rules for what this is between you. You don’t have to to know that is the most important one. You do not talk about Fight Club. Steve isn’t afraid of silence, that much is clear, but he isn’t a fan. He tries—he is trying—to connect and relate. He can’t be a man of the people, however, if he can’t talk to the people.

It’s important: connection. You know with every fiber of your being that Steve deserves it, but even with unlimited, super-human strength, he cannot get himself out from between this rock and that hard place.

You do not talk about Fight Club, especially when you’ve been kicked out of Fight Club.

Today, though, he’s a little different, a little softer. Perhaps it’s knowing there are no other people in the building, perhaps he is truly more comfortable with you, but either way, Steve is not flat or off-putting.

His organized persona, his focus on the work, his indirect interactions and practical touch; they all fit here while he has a project. It’s the closest he can be to his old self, maybe even his real self, without mentioning the past—the fighting past—at all.

“You’re really good company,” you tell Steve, “even when you make holes in the walls.”

He tilts his head down and blushes. He shrugs as he takes the sconce out to the dumpster. Although he didn’t say it, you hope this is okay.

Either way, you relish it. The help. The touch. The silence. All of it.

You relish Steve.

Your dad brings by the paint, spackling, and a surprise of pizza for dinner while Steve is taping the baseboards in a corner. You introduce ‘Grant’ from afar and haul the cans and boxes from the car to the room, cataloguing all you two have finished to this point and what you’ll do before stopping for the night.

Dad is impressed. He’d suspected the three of you—you, he, and Mom, that is—might settle for slapping some paint up around where the electrician would install the new lights. No one planned on getting this far in one evening.

He won’t stand in the way of progress, so your dad simply calls out, “bit of an artist, are ya?”

Steve looks up, confident with only the side table lamps plugged in, he can barely be seen. “Just want to be useful,” he mutters.

You wink at your dad as he heads back to the still-running car. “Grant is a jack of all trades.”

You’re sure to thank him for the food and let him know all the motel stuff is completely covered for tomorrow, too. You’ll work as late as you can and start as early as possible.

Dad says your friend has gone ‘above and beyond.’ You agree wholeheartedly.

‘Grant’ would more aptly be described as a machine.

All the furniture moved, all the lights taken down, all bordering taped, and now all blemishes in the walls smoothed, your impromptu contractor finally calls it quits when he’s forced to watch stuff dry.

You’ve kept the air conditioning going in one room.

Steve tentatively asks if he should walk you up to the house, but you counter with “it’s not any less dangerous for an average guy alone to return” and a cheeky smirk. Besides, it is very late. You let Captain OCD keep going; you tapped out a while ago.

He puts his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, thinking of a comeback that never manifests. After giving up, Steve takes his tiny bag into the bathroom and brushes his teeth.

You can faintly hear it over the murmur of the TV.

You aren’t really watching. It’s background noise to your general exhaustion.

With only a side lamp and the screen as light, Steve’s bare feet crumple over the discarded plastic sheet on the floor. He falls into one side of the bed, fully-clothed and (finally) tired.

Though productive, the day has been a distant one, working in different rooms for most of it and tiptoeing around real conversation. You want him to feel appreciated, not pressured, so you ask if he’d like the TV on for a while or would rather quiet.

Steve just grunts with his eyes closed.

Gently, you place a hand on his chest to steady you, leaning to kiss his bearded cheek.

“Thank you, Steve,” you say softly. “Good night.”

He hums when you say his name, and before you can lift your hand away, he captures it under his, holding you in place.

His eyes aren’t open. He can’t see you smile wider.

“Okay.” You tuck yourself into his chest as he raises his other arm out of the way. “Okay.”

Your ear sits in the dip beneath his collarbone, listening to his steady heart, his thumb sweeping back and forth over you knuckles.

He smushes you closer to his side. You toss your leg over his.

You forget to turn off the TV.

He’s sanding the spackled spots by the time you wake, so you rub across his back and dismiss yourself to get breakfast up at the house.

Steve makes no effort to go with, which is fine. You assumed as much.

Your dad calls Grant a ‘magician’ over the pop of oil in the skillet and insists you give your friend whatever he needs to keep working so fast. You are only half-joking when you admit the key is staying out of his way.

Bonus: the exchange reinforces your parents simply leaving the two of you alone down the hill, and you proudly tell Steve that when delivering him an enormous plate of scrambled eggs.

He jumps right back into planning-mode and orders you to roll the first coat of paint onto large areas. He’ll follow, completing the edges and corners.

It’s such a domestic thing to do. There is no one in danger, there are no bodies piling up if he makes a wrong move, and he can go faster or take his sweet time. Steve breaks when he wants or needs to. He sits outside and listens to the birds in the sunshine. No one is around to question him, not even you. You are only there to encourage.

You realize he was looking for a project. He’s used to—and likes—being busy, getting his hands dirty, producing results.

It’s a long, messy day where he becomes more serene in spirit the more intensely he works. You reward him with gentle sweeps of your hand down his arms, pats on his shoulders, and brushes at the small of his back.

Despite the almost constant movement, the day is over before you know it, earlier than yesterday, but it’s too hot to go on.

All the windows stay open to air out the fumes.

Though it won’t stop you from sweating, you both shower off as many splatters and flecks of paint as you can. You insist he goes first so there’s plenty of hot water.

He’s sitting on the bed, shirtless, checking his phone when you come out of the bathroom, but he immediately squirrel the device away in his small bag. Not much to carry around. Not much to leave behind. Steve can’t leave a trace of himself anywhere.

Hunched over and fatigued, he flashes a polite smile your way and blinks heavily.

He deserves the world.

You grab the small bottle of lotion from the countertop and playfully jump onto the bed behind him.

“How about a massage, yeah? You much be aching.”

Honestly, you don’t mean for it to sound sexual, but the phrase comes out downright dirty, making Steve awkwardly chuckle.

“You don’t have to,” he placates.

“Nonsense, I want to. It’ll make the air feel cooler.” That’s as good of an excuse as any. Who cares when the rippled expanse of his back flexes wildly in your touch?

His breathes are audible from the beginning.

You dig at his traps, his leg bouncing as he tries to relax. You use your thumbs, the flats of your hands, and your knuckles.

He shoves his fist in his mouth when he starts to moan, covering the move with a cough, but muffling the noise is abandoned in favor of clasping over his lap. He’s intent on hiding his hardness this time. There’s nothing you can say to truly lessen the sting of needing more. You can’t simply tell him he’s allowed to desire this; you have to ignore his misplaced shame.

But you can take pity on him.

“If you lie flat—“ you step off the bed to give him privacy “—I’ll have more leverage.”

You hear him crawl and adjust on the sheets. “Unlike the torque on a wrench,” you add, just to show you’ve been listening to him.

More lotion is needed for the surface area.

You turn up the TV, feining interest in the late night show so any noise he makes is not as obvious. What the speakers can’t cover, however, is Steve’s involuntary thrusts when you rub the heels of you palms up and down the sides of his spine. If you prop up on your knees, he has more range of motion and doesn’t obviously rock you while mindlessly humping the bed.

His sweats are slung low on his hips, two darts of muscle prominent above his ass.

They are irresistible, the perfect grooves to target and roll into, and he immediately mewls long and deep into the mattress, fingers curling and relaxing while his body seizes.

He hasn’t even finished coming, you think, before he taps at your leg and races to the bathroom.

You hope you didn’t push too far. You hope he’d tell you to stop if he needs more space, more time. Mostly, you hope he knows you’d give him every conceivable pleasure, just because he is him.

The water runs a long time, continuous splashing in the sink, and then nothing.

He didn’t bring much because he doesn’t have much. Your heart sinks, realizing you’ve made him soil one of only two pairs of pants he has here.

He cracks open the door, muttering, but you can’t make out the words.

You turn the volume back down. “What?”

“It pretty hot.” He clears his throat. “Would you mind if I sleep…without…?”

“Naked?” you squeak before composing yourself. “That’s fine. Whatever’s comfortable.”

You shuffle up the bed to click off the lamps. This man isn’t the type to strut around in the nude—yet, anyway—so in the faint and ever-shifting glow of the screen across the room very little can be seen.

‘Little,’ however, can’t describe anything that is visible about the man emerging from the bathroom.

You have to make a point not to stare, but no skit or commercial on the channel promises the same level of entertainment.

Steve slides himself beneath the sheet, sitting near the headboard.

You hold up the remote. “On or off?”

“Off,” he says, “please.”

You’ve certainly done enough for one day. You won’t push your luck, so you hit the power button, toss it on table, and snuggle into your half of the bed, facing away.

“If it’s too hot for any covers, that’s okay, too.”

A rustling interrupts the rhythmic whir of crickets in the night until you feel a warm hand lightly mold to your waist.

This should be encouraged. This should be rewarded.

“Hey, Stevie,” you whisper, waiting for his hum, “happy belated birthday.”

At most you expect a grip of notice, but instead, the big hand snakes across you and hauls you into his chest, his long legs bending to match the crook of yours, his nose and forehead tucked against your occipital.

“We did okay today,” Steve mumbles into your shirt.

You walk your hand over your stomach to find his, lacing the fingers together. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

Steve got to be useful today. He had a partner today. He will tomorrow and the day after, for as long as he stays, for as long as you’re alive. Nothing can change that.

Maybe he can’t talk about Fight Club, but he connects with you anyway.

A/N: Whoopsy. Didn't want to make y'all wait for a 6k+ chapter, so here's the first half! I am DEEP in the feels of this one. So, so many notes have been taken. The brainrot is real, and I fucking love it!!!!

[Next: Sensitive Boy, part II]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

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method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series, glimpse of angst, fluff, humor, strangers to friends/roommates to lovers, a bit of back and forth

word count: 4.2k

cherry here!...and it all comes crashing down.

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 5

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

For years, you spent time behind a screen, mindlessly running after Eleanor with a notepad, messy hair sticking out like a madwoman. It must’ve been quite the sight for your fellow colleagues. A constant cycle of proving yourself to others—to your own fucking parents—that what you were doing was going to be all worth it at the end. It was only right that you were utterly exhausted.

Now suddenly, there’s this boy. He has the prettiest watercolor eyes you’ve even had the pleasure of admiring, the cutest dimples, a charming nose, most feathery lashes, pinkest lips, and above all; a heart of gold. You’ve been thrown the toughest battles—the kind you would’ve fought alone if it weren’t for Amelia and Roman—but the universe has rewarded you.

In the span of a month, Charles has completely won you over. From his boyish grin to his dominating smirk. There was just something about him that fell into place with you; like a puzzle piece. The Monegasque never failed to make you feel giddy all over, butterflies soaring freely inside your stomach.

Only now, there were a different type of eyes lurking back at you. Livid, you almost flinched at the thought of them turning red. Resentful, the kind you only thought you knew. Broken, like the glass plate laying at your feet.

But the worst had to be the betrayal, written all over them.

And you knew at that moment. This was the last and only summer.

“Wouldn’t it be scary if I just zip down because a shark bit my leg?” you ponder, gently threading through the tides. The green eyed boy tilts his head in amusement. If he hadn’t taken the time to understand your wild imagination, or dark humor, then he would’ve rolled his eyes and yawned. Instead, he slowly nudges your calf, lighthearted, droplets sliding down his face.

“Not so much as scary, but rather impossible. Sharks don’t swim near the Amalfi Coast.” You nod, though there’s a skeptical aura that lingers as you fix your snorkel. The brunette sneaks a loving glance, taking in your rosy state, scrunched nose when you swallow a gallon of sea salt water. He laughs. “You should keep an eye out for jellyfish, eh. Now those are a problem.”

“Jellyfishes and I are friends. They would never intentionally hurt me. C’mon, let's go back.”

The day had started early. Four fucking a.m. The Monegasque had hurled you out of bed, declaring that time was running out and he needed to spend all of it with you. The day prior, he had promised he would always text, call, and visit. It made your heart flutter and pounce all at the same time.

Hence, snorkeling. It was a fun and quick activity, so naturally you agreed with a killer pout as you squinted at the bright sun, despite it being the crack of dawn. Signaling to a glimmery oyster, you excitedly nod when he makes his way over. Once you reach the surface again, you clap with delight. “Can you open it for me?”

He doesn’t answer, but rather focuses his attention on snapping it wide. You can feel your eyes shimmer at the sight, an electrifying pearly white. Almost greedily, you pinch it in between your fingers, bringing it up to parade. “That is absolutely stunning. Oh my God, do you think I could turn it into a ring?”

His lips curl. “I’d say so.”

After that, you both settle into a comfortable silence. The sun was blazing hot at this point, and still there was a breeze. Just when your face would start to dry up, you would dip back in and beam at the Monegasque. He grins, crinkles, hugging the corner of his eyes. He allows himself to swoon when you wink up at the rays of sunshine. “So, I was thinking…”

“Mhm,” you murmur, orbs trained on your newly prize possession.

Nerves fill the brunette’s veins, sharp hands gently massaging his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. You furrow your brows, cocking your head to the side. Is everything alright? Charles sheepishly smiles. “Well, I, uh, was wondering…” He trails off when your lips wobble, hinting that you knew what this was all leading up to. “Would you like to go out on a date? With me,” he adds shyly.

“You were kind enough to seek me a gem,” you hum. “I would love to, Charles.”

“Wonderful,” he sighs in relief. “I-I-I know we sort of skipped a couple steps a few days ago,” he stutters anxiously. Your cheeks burn up at the reminder of him in between your legs. “So— but—I’m definitely glad that we’re able to—ouch!” he yelps in pain, teeth gritting. You fill up with panic, frantically eyeing the clear water.

“What? What?” you urge. “It’s a shark, isn’t it? I knew they would find a way!” The 26 year old barely had a chance to fill you in on what was really going on, but couldn’t really do much when you zoom out, popping the pearl into your mouth safely, floppy arms threading fast to the point that they became sore.

“There’s no—oh my word.” He grimaces, a painful expression mapped out as he, too, follows you out as quickly as he can. As he limps over to you, you scream, shiny jewel falling straight onto the ground.

“Charles, Charles, Charles.” Your stomach drops, fingers jittery, “There’s a jellyfish wrapped around your ankle…”

“You’re all caught up,” he grunts. “Get it off!”

You squeal when he lifts his leg up at you. “I can’t! Can’t you kick it off or something?”

He clenches his jaw, heavy pants filling the air. “And risk getting stung again? No, thank you. I drive for a living! I need this thing off.” He flings his leg and the transparent sea-creature disconnects, landing straight into the water. He stares back astonished and you simply laugh loudly and maniacally. You did it! “Yes, now pee on it.”

“Oh—hell no. What is this? A kink of yours?” Your nose scrunches up with clear disgust, as if you just caught a whiff of a baby’s diaper. Charles scowls. It’s supposed to help—do you think I want to do this? You gag, adamantly shaking your head. “No, no, I’ve read about this! We can add vinegar!” Briskly grabbing your essentials, you grip his wrist, already dragging him to his car.

He tears up—though, denies it—almost kicks you, and groans like a baby, but survives his injury. “Better?” Barely. Washing your hands, you share a stern glare. “At home remedies. Godsend.” He sulks deeper into his seat, wet hair trapping his face. Once you dry your hands, you plop down next to him, pecking his lips. “Grump.”

A beady eye pops open before snapping back shut. “I’d like to see you get stung.” You gasp theatrically, playfully swatting his shoulder. He chuckles, hauling you atop of him. You almost giggle like a teen, but manage to tune it out. “How ‘bout our date?”

“How about you rest? Cha, we can go out tomorrow.”

His bright eyes dim. “But we only have a few days left…”

Your mood comes crashing down as well, downcast eyes flickering like fireflies. “Then I should get ready, no?” His lips turn upward. “Meet me by the door in fifteen.”

It’s a rush, digging through your suitcase, trying to find the perfect dress, the perfect flats. You lose a good chunk of hair as you comb through it, due to the salty water, but manage. You briskly fly through your makeup routine, slather your body with perfume and lotion, and dash back downstairs, finding him already standing there.

Charles was at edge up until that moment. His tenseness slips away as soon as he sees you, looking as beautiful as ever. There’s a harsh tan going on, but even that makes you all the more breathtaking. He’s not too bad himself and you know it when you blush. From his linen navy blue shirt to his denim jeans, you swoon.

“You smell like honey,” he stammers. “You look lovely.”

“Grazie.” A beat. “You got a few new ones.”

He’s generally a cool guy, but you always strike him with some type of new feeling. He burns up, softly grazing his nose where a few freckles pop up. “That always happens when I’m out in the sun for too long. Ready?” You purse your lips, skipping towards him.

When you were eight, you had your first date. You suppose that really depends on how you see it. You mother had tried to become friends with a few ladies from the local book club and you always found yourself tagging along. Obligated, more so. His name was Joey and he had two missing teeth, so every time he spoke, a lisp would come through. It made you giggle cutely as you would lick your melted ice cream off your forearm. Eventually, your mother felt the right to storm out, pulling you away, and you never saw or heard of him again.

At eighteen, you had your last. You should've known from his name alone. James. He was tall, blond, a complete know-it-all, but he had noticed you. The crush slowly died the moment his eyes trailed to the next pretty girl, and the next, and the next.

Now, you’re mid-twenties and this feels like the right choice. He isn’t missing a row of teeth, he buys you ice cream and never once rushes you, he’s tall and proud, and has a set of chocolate curls. Most importantly, he has eyes for you and only you. It was as sweet as it could get.

“Can I ask you something?” Charles raises a brow, humming along. Twirling your pasta against the metal fork, you prop your chin on your palm. “What were you doing that day at the beach? Where we first met.”

Crimson red slashes his already burnt face as he chokes on his wine. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your perspective over me.” He drums his long fingers. “I was taking a nap.”

“Oh, well, I know that, but you were basically a goner!” You teasingly whistled. “I’m a curious little monkey, so please, enlighten me.”

The Monegasque tsks, relaxing his wide shoulders. He circles the restaurant instantly before leaning in across the table. “That day I was feeling particularly stressed. I was dealing with a lot of things and I don’t remember much after that. Except when a friend gave me a so-called magic potion.” He takes a sip to fix his dry throat. “Oh it did wonders, I tell you.” Absolute wonders, he mouths.

Your eyes widen. “Like…drugs?” you hiss, bewildered at the possibility. He cringes and nods, floppy hair bouncing. Your mouth forms a silent O, then nibble on your bottom lip, letting go. “I didn’t take you for a—”

“Me either.” You hear the sound of plates crashing down as you flinch and you both turn your attention to the apologetic waiter. The older couple look pissed, bitterly curse out the poor man, and blink as if they weren’t the vulgar ones. Charles rolls his eyes, then sighs. “I don’t think I could ever understand people like that.”

“Ruthless?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. It’s ugly. Makes them look so out of touch with reality, which I suppose is true.” Green eyes flicker to the waiter once again before getting up to help. Tonight is really only the first time he’s gone out without his supposed disguise, so it’s obviously made your stomach flip at the thought of someone recognizing him.

Which they do.

“Charles Leclerc?” The accent is thick—and clearly Italian—as they step closer, phone already whipping out. The brunette turns, a lopsided smile drawn. “Holy shit! It’s really you! Can I please have a picture?” After a few minutes of chatter, the Monegasque excuses himself from the group, looking a bit suffocated.

“Being tackled in public? That’s what stresses you out, right?” His breath gets caught in his throat, but doesn’t make a move to shut the claim down. He answers by turning his attention to his lap. You sigh. “What did you take and who gave it to you?”

“You probably don’t even know him—Daniel. He’s quite the man, knows lots of people, and thought it would help. It did. Coke. I-it was my first and only try, I promise.”

You release a further breath. “You’re old enough to know your wrongs from rights. I trust you.” He eases up. “Doesn't mean you should rely on that.”

Charles looks up with a frown. “I feel like a fucking scumbag. I mean, does it make me a bad person to dread meeting fans sometimes? They’re always supporting me—it’s the least I could do.”

“You’re only human, Cha. You have your good and bad days. They would understand.” He shrugs, smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you remember what you told me that day you cooked that godforsaken meal?”

He nips the air. “You said it was delicious!”

You snicker, glad to see his humor coming back. “I lied. No, but you told me I had to stop pleasing everyone around me. Focus on myself. You said that. And I advise you to do the same.”

He’s heard this countless times. With Charlotte, which he only tuned out angrily, blaming her for not understanding his duties. Carlos, narrating how he of all people should understand. Pierre, smacking his head before walking away, already annoyed that too many people had tried to help, how he got called out on repeat. But with you, he simply nodded, somewhat agreeing. Not completely, but enough. That itself was a lot when it came to him and his stubbornness. Something inside of him told him he would do whatever you asked him to. It was a scary—liberating—feeling.

The last time he felt this was with…

A wave of realization slithers across his features. Charlotte. That last person he felt this familiar feeling was for Charlotte. And even then, their relationship felt foolish compared to anything he’s ever felt for you. There were sparks flying when you fluttered your doe eyes back at him, when you called him out on anything he does with a witty sense of humor…

He’s been fucked ever since the tiny ballerina kissed the hot-headed Stormtrooper.

“My words of wisdom are pretty clever,” he voices, smirking. “You’re right. I should focus more on myself.” Pause. “Thank you. For everything. For taking the time to get to know me. Not many bother these days.”

You want to cry at the gratitude written all over his handsome face, the sound of his disbelief, like a kid who genuinely thought they’d be picked last for a game of tag.

“You're very important to me, Charles.” You gently take his large hand into your smaller one. He stiffens. “You won’t ever forget that, right?”

“Not even if I try, no.” Then he presses a warm kiss onto your skin, and you feel him smile against it. “Anything you say or do would take me forever to overlook, to erase.” More pressure expands through your already firm chest, ragged breaths. “Something tells you’re a once in a lifetime type of person. How could I ever let that slip away?”

You excuse yourself in a flash, tears threatening to spill after his touch felt words. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more two-faced, he somehow squeezes your heart around his fist, and you deserve every ounce of shame, of guilt.

After a round of paper towels that you dab as harsh as soft Kleenex, you force a bright smile in the mirror, shooting a quick thumbs up and storming back out to your date.

The 26 year old was concerned about the hazy interaction, perturbed eyes blinking as you got up as if you had just seen the Devil himself, unbeknownst that you felt like one. He’s left anxiously waiting, tapping his shoes against the shiny tiles, leg bouncing up and down with anticipation. Cursing underneath his breath, he stands up and makes his way to the women's restroom. He receives a few baffled glances when he bolts down the hallway.

“Jesus Christ,” you yelp, finding Charles right in front of you when you swing the door open. His green eyes narrow like knives, carefully analyzing your pink nose, red rimmed eyes. “You scared me—”

“What did they say to you?”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

His hands make their way up to cradle your face, thumbs grazing your temples. You raise a neat brow. “Did anyone follow you? See you? Were they rude? My fans aren’t normally like this, I promise they’re sweet, but if they did anything to you, I swear to God—”

Instantly shaking your head, you let out a nervous giggle. “No one said anything, don’t worry. I just really had to pee. Promise.”

This is what he was most afraid of when he first opened up to you, to go out in public. Charles was terrified at the image of your privacy being invaded, much like his. For hurtful words or actions to be aimed at you. And then you blink up at him with a sour expression because he knows you just cried, he obviously grew protective. Leaning down, he meekly kisses your forehead. “What’s wrong then? You hate me that much?” he jokes.

You bite back a smile. “Something like that. How about we go somewhere dear to us?”

Added to the torment of what you were feeling, you didn’t think things could get any worse—and yet.

Today. By today. Get it done.

Aghast, your delicate fingers come up to your berry lips, pinching at them nervously before biting down on your thumb, re-reading Eleanor’s message. Friday. You originally had until Friday. It’s only Wednesday. Sure, only a forty-eight hour difference, but still. You wanted to hold onto the most valuable time possible if you could. You try convincing her to change her mind, but it was a worthless battle. You knew once she had her mind set on it, then that’s exactly what had to happen.

By today.

You’re sobbing, panting, your vision is blurry as you type on your phone, angry as you fiddle against the tiny screen. Who could you really be mad at? Eleanor? No. Charles? No. The universe? Tempting, but no. It was all you. If you hadn’t mentioned having a possible exclusive for the sake of saving your job, then you wouldn’t be tangled in this mess.

You can’t go down that way, it’s ladies only!

I’m terribly sorry, but I have to check on my wife.

You recognize his urgent voice, deep and raw. His words aren’t true, but it fucks you up just the same. Hurrying to slip your phone back inside your purse, you quickly fix your appearance before opening the wide door, finding Charles mid-knock.

“Jesus Christ. You scared me.”

“Back where we started,” the green eyed boy chirps when he spots the tiny pub that sits atop of the hill. “It feels as if we were just here yesterday. This is fantastic.”

“I didn’t think you loved it that much,” you poke fun, bumping your hip against his. His watercolor eyes flicker to yours for a brief moment, then focusing back at the old shed.

“Things can surely change in the span of a month.”

The implication was as clear as daylight, but it only flew past your head as you enthusiastically ran up, smiling back at him. Nico is still there, serving drinks with a cheshire grin, when he spots you. “I remember you! How have you been, cara mia? Is Italy treating you well enough?”

You buzz, tippy toeing as you sheepishly try to spot the main reason you came back. “Oh, definitely. I think I might stay. Do you, um, happen to have—”

“Got it right here,” he says, gloved hand wrapping around the familiar liquid. You blush, ordering a round—bottle—and making your way back to the Monegasque. As soon as the tray hits your table, he throws a dubious stare, thanking the older man. “Huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.” He extends his Ferrari merch with a timid grin. “Do you mind?”

Charles returns the warm smile. “Not at all.” He signs away sloppily, but professionally. Nico zooms cheerfully, eager to boast out to his co-workers. You giggle. Very nice, very nice. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Does my kind gesture get me a kiss?”

“We’ll see,” you mumble, looking away before he spots your pink cheeks.

He sighs dramatically. “Do you really think it’s for the best if you drink this crap again? Do you remember the last time you had a sip?”

“I’ll go easy. This shit is good.” Throwing your head back, you gulp down the sweet alcoholic drink, eyes squeezing tightly before you huff. “Exactly. Try some.” The brunette does, but steady, a careful eye always lingering onto you. You don’t get drunk this time—rather tipsy. You tell yourself it's because you don’t want to wake up with a killer headache tomorrow, but you know that’s far from the truth. It’s simple. You just didn’t want to forget the last moments you had with him.

His adoration would only last so long.

Clicking your phone open, you clumsily had it over to him. Record me. He huffs, but amusement colors his orbs. “Here we go again…” You snicker playfully, marching over to the lady at the piano. You’re back, she pronounces.

“I am.” You laugh. “Do you happen to play guitar?”

She shakes her head sadly before lighting up. “But Nico does. Nico!” she screams as the man rushes over. “You play song for pretty girl standing right here?” Volentieri, he chirps, looking for his rusty instrument. After a bit of discussion, you twirl back, walking to the center stage.

“I can still recall, our last summer. I still see it all.” Charles laughs, throwing his head back like a little kid as he reminds himself to keep your phone steady. “Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain. Our last summer, memories that remain.”

The guitar is a lone act, but fills up the room as if there were a band. Occasionally, the keys of the broken piano fill the room as you smile gently. From the way you dance to the way you smile, Charles lives for every moment, taking in your happiness.

You should have seen the foreshadowing. The song. The plates that crashed during dinner. The stare. It was all laying right out in front of you, and you stupidly chose to ignore it until it was too late.

“Our last summer, walking hand in hand…” You trail off the moment his eyes turn dark, furrowing to the screen then back to you, as if trying to come up with a possible explanation. He stands up abruptly, chair squeaking so loud that everyone’s heads turn to look. “No,” you whisper in disbelief when he walks out, leaving you like an open love letter.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Flying down the stairs, you trip a couple of times, concerned glances shared between Nico and the older lady. None of it matters as you run after Charles.

Anger must give you wings because he’s long gone when you reach the open air. Dirt crunches underneath your heels as you desperately try to catch a sign that he’s around. When he’s not, you instantly call a cab, rudely directing him to your shared Airbnb.

He loves you; he's sure of it the moment you tuck a strand of hair behind your jeweled ear, slightly hesitant as you try to refresh Nico’s mind over what song you wanted. He even practices a few strings before winking over at you.

He knows it the moment you reach a certain note that makes your voice crack, smiling shyly, giggling through your singing.

And you loved him all too late.

Draft is perfect. Green light, publish it. We can talk about your promotion when you get back. Congratulations. Hard work really does pay off.

He recognizes the name as soon as it blares across your screen, still recording you, spinning across the stage without a care in the world. He feels inanely invasive when he clicks on the email, but pushes the feeling away with the fact that this appeared to be good news, and was there really any harm to that?

Charles Leclerc: The Man Behind the Helmet.

He reads through, spotting your name swiftly.

Sat down with him…

High on the beach—a desperate tactic to release some much needed stress during the off season…

Golden pin, prancing horse. Gifted from the late, Hervé Leclerc…

Fearful of what’s to come once Hamilton enters the picture later in 2025…

He’s skimming but it’s enough for him to wonder if he’s experiencing true headache right now. Your voice cuts off, turning pale as you blink back at him. Fury enters his veins as he storms out, not caring about what you must think. He hears you chasing after him, but manages to climb into the first cab he sees.

What he hates the most is that he still feels like a complete idiot for leaving you behind. For marching out without a single word.

For being so stupid.

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fluloa · 1 year

Text

Si fpom

Jake sully x reader [series, part two]

PART ONE

The sand burns beneath his feet, his skin hot and irritated from Eywa's unforgiving sun. Jake pats his ikran firmly on the chest, breathing steadily. He watches as people crawl out of their pods, emerge from the blue water and judging by their expressions, they aren't happy. He looks back to his family, gaze lingering on his oldest seeming weary and his fingers grazing the bow strapped to his ikran.

"Neteyam," he whispers sharply, and he looks to him, cowering away from the bow with a small huff through his nose. "On me," he commands his children, unable to hide the nervousness peering out of his tone. "Tuk," he mumbled, stretching his hand out for her to take. She runs to grab it, before settling her hands on the back of his leg.

Jake readjusts his slipping loincloth to sit comfortable on his hips before stretching his arms out wide, making sure to walk slowly and steadily. A sign of peace, a sign he could only hope they accept. He isn't able to stop himself from staring at the spears that some of the people hold, noticing the sharp, hard points of them. He does his best to keep his face neutral.

Two young boys and a girl crack through the thick group, slightly circling his sons.

"What is that? That supposed to be a tail?" One cracks, snickering and the other laughs with him. "How are they supposed to swim—"

The girl suddenly hits the cocky boy's arm, voice stern, "Do not, Roxto and Ao'nung."

Suddenly, the hushed talk of the people dies down a few notches.

Jake tilts his head to see a figure pushing— no, melting through the crowd, because they seem to be immediately parting for the said figure. He hears the light sound of shells rattling, smooth feet treading on the sand and before he can even catch his breath, there you are.

Weirdly enough, his mind jumbles. An unusual, unfamiliar bolt jitters through his body, settling at the pit of his stomach. Like a jolt of electricity.

You're of status. That much he can tell. Your black hair lavers down your back and over your shoulders, with a bundle of pearls and crystals twisted through it. You wear a lengthy sarong that lies loose around your hips, the right side cutting only at your calf. There are three crystalloid waist-beads that wrap around your torso, and your threaded top only covers what's necessary, and that too, is sprinkled with colorful spangles. Anklets, armlets, bracelets. A necklace that's crested with precious seashells and looped with glossy pearls. Your body is wet, skin dotted with water drops as if you had just gotten out of the ocean.

You scoop your hair out from your neck, unsticking it from your skin and moving it all to the back of you. He doesn't think he's ever seen a movement be done so gracefully.

A being that's ethereal, nothing he has seen before and it's something about you that reels him in like a fish caught on a hook. Your gaze finally locks with his, eyes ripe with curiosity and poise. His stomach does a flip, suddenly feeling the heat burning from beneath your expression. Your face is unreadable, your chin held high as you examine him and his family, and the sudden big whooshes from above him is the only thing that pulls his attention away from you.

Three big sea animals with long wings ride in, splashing into the water and one rider soaring on them is recognised easily. Tonowari, chief of the Metkayina, the reef people. He emerges from the water with a sense of power flowing behind him, and he strides with strength as his spear digs deep into sand each time he takes a step. They exchange greetings, and Jake's feels a sense of relief at the calm connection, as he knew Tonowari was a fierce leader.

But it wasn't him Jake was worried about.

Ronal emerges through the crowd, hips swaying gently and her face is unreadable, just like yours. She holds a strong aura, and her skirt rattles powerfully against her teal skin as she takes long, wary appearing steps.

"I see you, Ronal, Tsahik of the Metkayinas," Jake rushes, connecting his fingers to his head and releasing them swiftly. She says nothing in return, only flicking her eyes over his kids scattered behind him.

"Jakesully," Tonowari begins. "Why do you come to us?"

Jake licks swiftly at his lips, "We seek Uturu."

"Uturu?" Ronal snaps, like he has just insulted her with three striking words.

"Yes— sanctuary for my family," Jake reaches for Tuk standing meekly behind him, grasping her hand and bringing her gently forward.

"We are reef people," Tonowari lets a soft, unbelievable laugh escape from his chest. Ronal begins to circle Jake and his family. "You are forest people. Your skills will mean nothing here."

"So we will learn your ways, yeah?" Jake pleads.

Ronal grabs at Jake's tail, earning a little jut of his body from the unexpected action. She strokes her hand down Tuk's arm. "Their arms are thin," she states loud. It takes him by the unexpected when he feels another set of hands settling on his tail, and he whips his head around to see you, fingers grazing the length.

"Their tails are thin as well," you say, earning a small nod from Ronal. You drop his tail, now stepping over to his little girl behind him. "Mother," you murmur, jutting your head towards Tuk and she follows the movement, humming lowly. Mother. You were the clan leader's daughter, the next tsahik in line. He now understood the mutual energy you both shared.

"The thinness of your body parts will make you weak," Ronal then pulls on Kiri's tail, earning a whiney ow from her but the tsahik completely ignores it. "You will be slow in the water."

Ronal examines her arms, then moves to settle on her hands, and her eyes widen. She swiftly grabs at her them, swinging them up for everyone to see. "These children... are not even true na'vi." She strides over to the next kid, and of course, she lands on Lo'ak. She pushes his hand up too, revealing the same five blue fingers, "They have demon blood!"

The thick crowd swirls with gasps and terror-filled whispers, even a round of hisses chucked out. But Jake is quick to wave his hand out in front of Ronal's face, a sudden desperation, a sudden need to protect his family rushing in. "Look. Look!" Ronal's gaze snaps to him, eyeing the way his fingers wiggle around. "Look, I was born of the Sky People and now I am Na'vi. Alright? You can adapt." He turns to his worried family, "We can adapt."

"My father was Toruk Makto," Kiri rushes to tell, her eyes hung with slight desperation in them. Jake bites at his tongue, pulling all his inner strength together to not clamp his hand over his teenage daughter's mouth. "He lead the clans to victory against the Sky People. You know the tale."

"This is what you call victory, child? Hiding amongst strangers?" She towers over the teenage girl, her gaze darkening with disgust. She whips her head to Jake, "It seems Eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one."

An immediate, breathy hiss comes from Kiri, which is then met with a hiss from Ronal right back, dangerously leaning over her and that's when Jake places a hand on Kiri's shoulder and gently rocks her back a few steps. "I apologise for my daughter. She has travelled for a long time and is exhausted." He shoots her a look while explaining, tightening his grip on her shoulder slightly.

"Dad..." Kiri is quick to complain, but stops her next coming words when his expression hardens.

"Toruk Makto is a great leader, all Na'vi people know his story." Tonowari suddenly speaks out, extending his arm outwards toward Jake. "But we Metkayina are not at war," Tonowari turns to him. "We cannot let you bring your war here."

As Tuk numbly reaches for Jake, he immediately scoops her up by her torso, laying her head against his shoulder as her body presses sleepily at his chest. "I'm done with war," he plains, tone hugging a tiredness. "I just want to keep my family safe. That's all." He wraps an arm around his daughter's back, feeling the burning warmth of her sun-exposed skin. "Please," he adds.

A long look is exchanged between Ronal and Tonowari, and as restless anticipation boils at Jake's stomach, Tonowari turns around to him once again.

"Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us." Immediate relief floods through Jake's system, and he gives a reassuring pat to Tuk's small back. "Treat them as our brothers and sisters. But they do not know the sea, and they will be like babies taking their first breath. We shall teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless."

Jake huffs out a breathless laugh, mixed with soft adrenaline and consolation. "Well— what do we say? Thank you."

A round of thank yous are heard, and a short, quiet one is added on by his attitude-filled daughter, Kiri.

"My eldest daughter will teach you the ways of Metkayina, Jakesully. As for my other daughter and son, they will show your children what to do," Tonowari speaks and a choked scoff is heard from beside him. Your jaw tightens, eyes setting wide as you whip your body towards your parents.

"Father," you dash. "You cannot exp—"

"It is decided." He booms, not sparing you even a look and your lips break into a snarl, a tiny and annoyed hiss breaking past your them. You seem to collect yourself just a moment after, breathing in through your chest before you take a large step forward.

"Come, I will show you our village," you invite, letting a small smile spread on your face and placing your hands neatly behind you. "Tsireya," you call, and she quickly follows after.

"Come!" the younger girl behind you cheers, and Jake swears he hears a soft laugh from in front of her.

He's quick to join you.

The ocean waves crash against your feet, splashing at your ankles as you toss food into a young ilu's mouth. You hold a basket at your hip, filled with fresh fish that is ready to be eaten.

Tsireya stays restless beside you, rising up and down on her toes as she helps you. "What do you think of Toruk Makto and his family?" you ask, dipping your hand into the basket again and wrapping your fingers around the thick of a fish's wet body.

Beforehand, you had examined Jakesully and his family from afar as they settled into their new home. You were relieved that they had seemed to like their marui pod, and hoped that they found peace within it. While they attempted to grow comfortable in their new home, you couldn't help but awe at their appearances. Their skin colour was a shade so blue, their eyes a vibrant, startling yellow.

Jakesully is intriguing looking, you figured, and you found yourself letting your eyes linger on him when they had firstly arrived. Even just before, you had to forcibly pull your eyes away from him and the action of the readjustment of his leather clip around his torso.

"I find them interesting. They're so.. blue." Tsireya replies. You throw the fish into another ilu's mouth, a happy chirp flowing from the eager animal as you do so. "You were upset about teaching Toruk Makto the ways of our people. Why?"

You blink, collecting another fish in your hands, "I was not upset about that. I was upset about the fact that father throws tasks at me repeatedly, and just expects me to handle it with the snap of my fingers. I'm aware that this was a completely unexpected event, but... it can get infuriating. Mother is the same."

"I understand," she responds, tucking a bunch of hair behind her ear.

You huff out a breath of air. "Fine, I must admit that I was a bit tempered in the moment. Toruk Makto does not seem like the ideal man to teach."

Tsireya laughs, "I understand that, too."

"Mm," you make a small, giddy humming noise. "Lo'ak seems ideal though, yes?"

"What?" she frowns, and your smirk widens.

"I saw you making big eyes at him," you tease, kicking her ankle softly with your foot.

"I wasn't."

"Oh, I think you were, hi'i ilva." You kick her again, finding amusement in her growing fluster. She groans out your name, pushing you in the shoulder and you gasp out a dramatised grunt, "Ooow!"

"You said you were going to stop calling me that," she embarrassingly wipes at her cheek, stretching out the skin of her eye.

"But you used to love it when you were little," you pout. Her frown deepens playfully. You notice the way her eyes travel over you, and a cheeky grin of her own makes its way to her smooth lips.

"Don't look now, but Toruk Makto is staring at you." Tsireya whispers giddily, ducking her head a little.

Your back straightens instinctively and you immediately turn your head around to look, doing exactly what she said not to do. Tsireya groans because of it.

She's right. Jakesully is looking at you from afar, and when he sees that you've caught him, he pushes out a dopey smile, flicking his still hand up in greeting. You nod your head back, letting a tiny smile split your lips. He begins walking over to you, and that's when you sigh quietly.

"Go help out Toruk Makto's children," you say, handing your basket to a villager ready to finish the task. "Use nice words, and make them feel welcome. And keep Ao'nung in line. Anything goes south, call out for me."

"Alright," she giggles, and you can tell she's excitement. She grazes your arm in goodbye and trots off, filling you with a small warmth at her obvious eagerness.

You wish you too possessed eagerness for teaching Jakesully, but Eywa didn't seem to be on your side today.

When he's near enough, you gently ball your fingers in a small fist on your forehead and then release them, a soft bow of your head. "Oel ngati kameie."

"Oel ngati kameie," he returns, repeating the gesture. There's a sense of awkward tension between the two of you. It's small, but it's there.

"Come," you command, sliding your hands behind your back and he listens, trailing behind you like a lost baby ilu following its mother. He attempts to match your long strides against the sand, even flicking up some and bits of it sprigging you in the legs. "My sister is eager to teach your children. She makes a great teacher. They will learn quick."

"That's good," Jakesully grumbles. You can feel his eyes stare into your face.

"I hope I make a great teacher to you, Toruk Makto." You add, flicking your fingers in your conjoined hands.

"Jake," he says, now grabbing your attention and you spin your head towards his. "Call me Jake."

"Jake?" you ask, the foreign word springing off your tongue loosely.

"Jake." He confirms, a smirk twitching on his lips. "And what shall I call you?" he prods, letting his eyes flick a mischievous glint.

"Karyu," you reply. Teacher. You aren't looking at him, but you hope he doesn't see the ghost of a grin playing on your mouth. You do catch the little flick of his tail though from the corner of your eye.

You begin to sink into your feet into the water, ushering him with the flick of your wrist and as you dive deeper into the sea, you glide a hand along an incoming ilu. "You will make bond with many ilu. They are kind, soft creatures. Treat them as your brother, your close one," you explain, rubbing a hand over the ilu's head before you.

Jake's next to you, placing a hand on its back. You take his hand, guiding it to the base of her long neck and angling his fingers to rest at the side of it. "Feel the strong huff of her breath, the scales of her skin."

He does as told, smoothing his palm flat onto her neck. Then his ears perk up, and his eyes run over to a spot behind you. "What's that?"

You attempt to look where his gaze was set, and you sigh once seeing where it was. "That is a skimwing. Only the most skilled Metkayina hunters may mount them."

You can see the way his eyes dart open, looking to you from the side and before he can even open his mouth, you're scolding him, "It isn't wise to start with a skimwing. An ilu would be much better."

He grins for the hundredth time today, but this time you're able to catch a glimpse of his pearly teeth. "Toruk Makto can handle a skimwing, ma karyu."

The skimwing is puffing out ragged and intimidating breaths as Jake flops belly first onto his back, swinging his leg over recklessly as a few men around them struggle to keep the beast down. Its back end thrashes, splashing water wildly and hitting you a couple of times. You're at the eager man's side, keeping your own and holding down the skimwing with an arm on its side.

"You hold here, yes— tight grip, Jake. Do not let go," you declare with your voice raised, trying to boom over the loud smack of the thrashing animal beside you. Jake grabs the leather band out from his mouth, using it to wrap it around his hand and the thick handle. "Remember, when you dive back into the water, keep a good position. Strong hold."

"Mhm," Jake mumbles, half-paying attention as he yanks the band a few times, stabilising the hold. Then he looks at you, and with a quirked lean of his head, he states, "I got this."

You breathe in deeply through your chest, taking a step back as you eye him steadily.

"Heeyah!" he shouts, the skimwing pouncing into action. It swivels and bolts through the water, and you watch as it jolts up and out of it, orange bold wings flapping out powerfully. You're impressed by it, with the way Jake hops up on one foot and rides the skimwing not flawlessly, but bravely. You even begin to tilt your head to get a clearer view of the scene. But then you notice the mishap, the leak of his performance when diving back down.

The skimwing escapes him, and he's left on his side before he's jumping up from the water, locks of black hair swishing back and forth. He swings up his arm, the hand that was once twisted into the skimwing's handle, now waved up in the air as he shakes it with anger. You can hear him groaning out in frustration, and a short laugh snorkels out from your mouth. You call for an ilu, hopping on it with a chortle and gliding to his aid.

"Toruk Makto cannot handle a skimwing as it seems," you tease, earning a chopped, slightly sheepish laugh from Jake. Your grin weakens when you see his arm, now reddened with whipped marks that seemed less severe from two hundred metres away. "Would you like something to aid that?"

"This? This ain't nothing." He brushes off, shoving the arm into the water.

"Hm," you murmur, raising a brow gently. "I will aid it for you if it does not fade within a few days."

"It's fine. Really—" he sees the expression on your face, and it's an expression that tells him that you will not give up on persistence. He sighs lowly. "'right, sweetheart."

Sweet heart? A heart that is sweet, you gathered. You've heard of many stories that your mother has told of the humans, and their foul and odd language. But this, you had not heard of. It should not have made the inner of your belly swirl with a sudden warmth like it had.

You raise your head, "Let's return to the ilu."

It's at the dark of night, and Jake is sat down with his family. Just like the Omoticaya, the Metkayina gather around for supper, a large bonfire in the middle of the peaceful people. The fish he chews is warm and smokey with flavor, his body tired from the day's work. Tuk is leant against his shoulder, a yawn leaving her. Neteyam sharpens an arrow of his bow, and Kiri is playing with one of her beads mangled in her hair as Lo'ak recklessly gobbles down his dinner.

He feels a sudden glow spread through his chest, because what he feels is the similar sensation of peace. Peace, at last. It partially convinces him to believe that what he did was right. It was right to rip himself and his family away from their home, to protect them from Quaritch and the vicious forces of the RDA.

He looks out in front of him and past the bright fire, his line of eyesight landing on both you and your family. You're scratching your knee as the bonfire toasts around you, its orange light illuminating on your face and giving the shade of your big eyes a warm glow. Ronal then looks to you, and the trace of her eyebrows pinch together. "Eat, child. You have barely touched any food," she snaps.

Obviously embarrassed, you heave out a long, exhausted sigh. "Mama," you whine out, a flush erupting on your cheeks and Jake has to suppress a chuckle from breaking out his chest.

Ronal picks up your wooden bowl, jutting it toward you. "Eat," she sterns. You take it from her, side-eyeing her as you begin to stuff your mouth little by little. When Jake realises he's been looking too long, he snaps his head down, mentally slapping himself.

When the lights are out and the only noise that goes through Jake's ears is the cold wind, Jake sits. He sits in his marui, as his children sleep soundly. It wasn't out of the ordinary. It had been like this for a while, ever since Neytiri had left him and gone into the hands of Eywa. He'd just wait and wait, until his eyes finally became wary, and sometimes even that didn't happen. Sometimes he would not find the comfort of sleep at all.

But then he hears the bend of the floor nets near him, the same clatter of shells he heard earlier that day and his ears flicker against his hair. He slowly gets up, careful not to awake the sleeping youngsters beneath him as he creeps his way to the closed opening of the pod.

When he opens the cloth flap, there you are, head flicked up and looking up at him with those big eyes of yours. "Hello," you say, and it's the quietest he has heard you.

"Hey," he mutters, gaze turning to his kids for a split second.

You lean your head over too, "Are they asleep?"

"Yes." He states, looking back at you. It's quiet for a second, and he takes the moment to do a once-over of you. Your hair is completely out, wild and breezing gently through the ocean's breeze. A shawl is wrapped loosely around your form, beaded with tiny shells that dangle each time your arm shifts.

"Tsireya has told me they are kind. That they are eager to learn." You continue, adjusting your shawl to cover your shoulder a bit more.

"That's good," he says. He gets a jolt of déjà vu from the conversation you shared earlier today. His eyes drift to the way a large piece of your hair sways in front of your shoulder and pools at the centre of your chest.

You then say a word, and he doesn't quite catch it.

"Hm?" he whispers, eyes connecting with yours once again.

"That is my name," you repeat it again, the word rolling off your tongue like a run of honey. His eyes twitch wide, blinking as his mind registers it. A pretty name for a pretty girl. He doesn't say that, though.

Instead, "S' pretty."

"Thank you," you mumble, already turning to leave when he calls out your name. You tilt your head, gazing up at him through the thick of your eyelashes.

"Just wanted to say it," he admits, and fuck, shit, he's already regretting it. He expects you to do anything but crack a gentle smile, a muffled and soft laugh from you as you turn back and walk away. He watched your form disappear into the night, the clattering of seashells fading from his ears.

When he climbs back into the pod, for the first time in a while, he finds the comfort of sleep easily.

- guys im so sorry i could not do a taglist for this shit there was about TWO HUNDRED PEOPLE ASKING. i think i’ll gradually add everyone onto a taglist but for now, there is not one. sorry bbies <333

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vigilskeep · 5 months

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hiya!! I never learned much about oghren besides what I needed to because, from what I remember, he pissed me off so bad with misogynistic comments that in both my playthroughs I kicked him out of the party as soon as the game would let me😂what would you say is the appeal of his character? it seems there’s more to him if I could’ve got past that, based on the posts of yours I’ve seen

i’m not going to make an argument for pushing through if you can’t deal with how he talks because like, it sucks and as i say, they did not do anything with it or make him get better on that. that being said, i think there is something interesting to his character and what can be done with it.

maybe i’m just desperate for dwarven lore lmao. there are three, total, dwarven companions in the series, counting one from a dlc, and i will take whatever lore i can get from my beloved orzammar

oghren operates in a really fascinating space in orzammar’s caste system. he’s born warrior caste, and once, he was everything orzammar values and a great prospect for a brilliant girl from the smith caste. then when she’s less than twenty and he’s presumably around the same, she becomes a paragon, a living legend, the voice of the ancestors. they soar up to being a noble house in a role neither of them are prepared for. oghren goes from being a very desirable match socially to an uncultured hanger-on who doesn’t even have branka’s attention as she becomes obsessed with her work (and quietly seeks a lover elsewhere in her new house). when branka goes into the deep roads two years before the events of the game, she takes the whole house—except him. and she doesn’t come back. oghren’s the single leftover of a house with no head. he’s also a berserker with ptsd, and when he loses control of himself in the proving arena and kills a young man, he’s no longer allowed to fight within the city bounds. if he left it, he’d be casteless; but inside it, he’s not far from that, unable to be the warrior that orzammar’s culture has always told him it is his only role and purpose to be.

there’s a lot of orzammar caste and gender politics in all of that. the guard who tells you about oghren says that he might have been something to be afraid of before the assembly “practically gelded him” by banning him from fighting. losing your ability to perform your caste role is emasculating and oghren’s over-exaggerated masculinity in his crude jokes is a response to that perceived shame. even before the ban, orzammar has the biggest gender inequality of anywhere we’ve spent time in thedas, and there’s a lot of implied social loss in becoming the lesser partner to his wife. both because she’s a woman and was once a lesser caste than him. in his fade nightmare, he’s drunk in tapsters, as strangers berate him for being a shame to branka’s house, dragging it down. he’s openly mocked in the same way in orzammar for all of this. for him in this dream, and in his life prior to meeting the warden, it’s easier to drink than to listen

there’s a lot to get into about how orzammar treats its warriors. they’re sent against the horrors of the deep roads, taught to harness this berserker rage, to be the only thing that stands between their home and the darkspawn, and... then what? is there a system in place for taking care of those veterans? i doubt they hold the same value once they lose the ability to perform their caste role. oghren talks a little about this, but he’s not even able to conceptualise that he should have been helped, it’s more like, how could they teach me how to fight out there like that and expect me to be able to hold back in that proving fight? a warrior’s going to do what a warrior’s going to do! but i don’t think it’s a surprise that someone like oghren turns to alcohol and i sincerely doubt he’s alone in that. compare it to someone like warden brosca’s mother turning to alcohol to deaden herself to life in dust town, and you can see that the dwarven love of drink so often played for laughs is the weight of the caste system in action

#oghren #no real conclusion to these thoughts but that’s the rudimentary basics of the interest he holds for me personally

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lightwing-s · 4 months

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢 ; 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: when you least expect, you're hurt and the last person you could've expected is at the hospital with you, however the night takes an unexpected turn and you're hurt in more ways than you wanted to. but your friend comes to your rescue and something good may appear in the horizon

word count: 6,6k warnings: hospitals, language, mentions of family issues, alcohol

a/n: took me a while, but chapter one is finally out guys! ended up being a bit larger than I thought, but i thing it's just because it's the first chapter and I wanted to make sure to include a lot of backstory from the beginning. thanks for the support so faz and let me know what you think of it in the replies.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

The warmth of the summer evening could be felt even inside the air-conditioned gym, as the last bits of bright sunlight entered through the floor to ceiling windows and kept the place warm like a greenhouse. A small crowd started to form, as shifts came to an end, classes were over, and the weekend soared in the horizon.

Carefully, you placed your weights side by side, from heaviest in the middle to lightest in the corners, aligned at the bottom, one inch apart from each other. You fixed your position, feet a few inches apart, aligned by the lines dividing the flooring. After fixing the last pair of weights one more time, you looked up from the floor to stare at yourself in the large wall mirror.

You could’ve looked worse, you thought. A long week's work gave you small bags under your eyes, and some pimples popping out here and there due to the stress. A few strands of your hair were unkempt, rebelling against your attentively put together ponytail. You could’ve looked worse, you repeat to yourself, a mantra you so wanted to believe in, trying to refocus on the exercise ahead of you.

Three sets of eight. Let’s go!

One, two, three, you counted, your strength vanishing as the numbers neared eight. Breathe, Yn. Breathe.

Placing the lightest weights on the ground, you moan in pain of what’s yet to come, but finish your set whole anyways, placing the last pair of weights on the floor just like you’d done before. Taking a step back to breathe, you rested your joints on your waist as your eyes followed others going by their routines through the mirror.

It was then your eyes stopped on a pair of blues you’d, unfortunately, grown used to. When his fell on yours too, you rolled your eyes and went back to your exercise, hoping to not meet them again tonight.

Around two months had passed since your encounter at the party, followed by the day in this same place where he’d decided to shower you with his water bottle and basically exposed you to the entire gym through your wet outfit. Safe to say, you did not start well, and neither did you try to fix how it started.

Meeting almost every day you came out to train, your relationship revolved around eye rolls, whispered curses and a few bumps here and there, most of them on purpose. You never shared greetings, or any other words for that matter, except for that one time he took over the machine you were using, and you almost had to bark to make him go away.

It took you a while to find out his name too. Jason was what you found out through one of the instructors, not that you were asking, it just came out in a completely unrelated conversation. It wasn’t your fault. But his name would never leave your lips and that was a promise you had done with yourself. He was always gonna be asshole, dumbass or dipshit to you.

Finishing another exercise with the same equipment, you took them one pair at a time to their stand, finding it completely unorganized, out of order, and missing a few weights. You had to take a deep breath, bring all the ones you used closer, and put all of them on the display in the correct order, heaviest to lightest, from left to right.

“You really gonna waste your time with all that?” a voice you did not recognize at first broke your attention away from your OCD crisis. Turning around, you met the great wall you came to know was called Jason and gave him his usual eye roll greeting. “Happy to see you two.” He said through clear sarcasm.

Ignoring him, you continued your work, putting the last pieces of the puzzle in their correct place before seeking the ones you’d be needing for your next set. You watched Jason place his own weights correctly on their reserved empty spots before he turned to you again.

“Gonna let Roy know he’s got a new employee on his hands.” He joked.

“It’s not my fault if people around here have no care for organization,” you commented. “Not that I owe you any explanation.”

Staring at your job on the display, evaluating if there was anything needing change, you hadn’t moved a foot, and Jason needed to get the weights that were just in front of you for his next set. Walking closer, extending his long limbs, he reached out to catch them, his breath hitting your skin along the way and the sweet smell of sweat mixed with coconut lingered in the air.

“You’re truly a joy to be around.” He mocked, towering over you as your shoulder barely touched his chest.

“I too thoroughly enjoy your company, mister.” You gave him a sour smile.

“For real,” he blurted out, placing the weight back on the stand. “What the fuck did I do to you?”

Oh, the audacity, you thought. Standing beside you, he had his arms crossed on his chest, his well-defined biceps, triceps, and every arm muscle a beautiful exposition of his own hard work and dedication.

“Where do I even start?” you laughed, thinking about every little thing this man had done to annoy you since the day you first met.

“From the beginning, love.” The way he sang the last word had your blood boiling, and he stared at you with a smug smirk and challenged you with his intoxicating blue eyes.

“Are you really forgetting the fact I can’t wear one of my favorite shirts and that you nearly had me exposed to the entire gym? For real?” you questioned him, incredulous.

“Those were accidents I’ve countlessly apologized for. You know what? It’s pointless arguing with you.” He retrieved the weight from the stand, not noticing how loose it felt after taking the 45lbs off of it.

“It’s pointless arguing with no arguments.” you stated, annoyance growing on Jason’s chest as he attempted to leave, but your words dragged him back to staring angrily at your face.

“You oughta be joking.” He laughed, taking a step back, flailing his arms around and accidentally knocking the weight stand with the 45lbs he had in his hands.

“Fuck!” you screamed.

“Shit”

Nervously throwing the weight he held to the floor, Jason followed you to where you were now sitting on the floor, holding your foot after the weight stand fell on top of it. He desperately looked between your feet and your painful expression, looking as if you were about to cry at any moment, completely lost on what to do to help the pain away.

“Fuck. Shit, shit! I’m so fucking sorry.” He continuously apologized. “I didn’t mean to.”

By that point, a small group gathered around you, some trying to put the display up again, while others just looked at you two the same time all other eyes fell on your loud interaction.

“You never fucking mean to,” you hissed at him, a low cry leaving you lips right after. Your foot throbbed in pain, radiating ache through your entire body, and you could only think of foul words and even fouler action. “You dipshit.”

“What’s going on?” the red head of the gym manager showed up between the crowd that formed around you, as he dug through them to kneel beside you.

“The weight rack fell on Yn’s foot.” Jason offered an explanation in your place, as you could only focus on your pain.

“You dropped it.”.

“As if I fucking meant it.”

“Alright, alright!” Roy interrupted your bickering, helping you take off your shoe to see how hurt your foot actually was. “You need to go to a hospital, Yn. It could be a lot more serious that it looks, so better prevent that regret later,” And taking his keys out of his pocket, he handed them to the exasperated raven-haired man beside him. “Take my car and bring her to the hospital down at 8th, they’re usually quicker.”

“What?” Jason inquired.

“Take her. To the fucking. Hospital.” Roy replied, pausing periodically to make sure Jason would understand.

“Why me?” he deadpanned.

“I don’t need a hospital,” you said trying to stand up, but the loud grunt that left your throat told them otherwise and Roy pushed you to sit down once more.

“Take her to the hospital, she wanting it or not, and go get that foot checked! Seriously, you two are pissing me off,” Roy threw his hands up in the air, clearly starting to lose his mind over your continuous confrontational attitude. “Yn, dear. You got over 20lbs on your feet, you have to get it checked. Do you have insurance?”

“Yeah,” you moaned as tears had started welling up on your eyes.

“Good,” and pushing his keys into Jason's hand he nearly screamed. “Go!”

You complained only once on your way to the hospital, and it was when Jason picked you up and carried you to Roy's car. The pain on your foot, however, was too strong to complain much more, and you secretly thanked him for doing so, not daring to say anything else to the Great Wall of Gotham taking you to the hospital.

The car ride was silent, only a few of your sobs and sighs heard along the way, but soon enough, you were lying in a hospital bed with Jason standing by your feet. A hot, young, but unfortunately married, doctor checked your hurt foot, examining the bruise on your instep and also its swelling.

Jason watched your expression shift to enduring the pain from “what the fuck is this man doing” once the doctor pressed on your foot a little, your bottom lip bitten to the point you could taste a bit of your blood. He could almost feel your pain from your face, an agony tingling his skin as he paid attention to the doctor’s moves.

“Well, we’ll take an X-ray of your foot for precaution, Miss Sn.” the doctor started, voice muffled by his white mask. “But as far as I can tell with just this examination, nothing seems to be broken and you can go home pretty soon.”

You released a breath in relief, glad to hear you were potentially fine and the words ‘go home’ and ‘soon’ in the same sentence.

Removing his gloves and putting them on his scrubs pocket, he proceeded to write something down on his papers before returning his attention to you. “In the meantime, I’ll get you medicated to relieve your pain. Do you have any allergies?” he asked, and you simply shook your head. “Perfect, I’ll call in a nurse. Your boyfriend here can just…”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I’m not her boyfriend,” you two said at the same time, throwing the doctor away. “I’m not her boyfriend, but if there’s anything I can do…” Jason offered the doctor a toothless smile, as he patted Yn’s feet. She flinched at the pain and could honestly punch him in the face if he wasn’t so far away.

“Okay…” the doctor continued. “I was saying, your friend can just call the nurse if you need anything else.”

“Not a friend either,” you corrected again.

The doctor simply ignored your comment and disappeared through the curtains to see the other patients waiting in the emergency room, too busy to care for whatever the hell you two were.

When he left, an awkward silence fell between you two as you did everything but stare at each other for too long.

Looking around the small space you two shared, Jason found a chair by the corner and sat down with a heavy sigh. The movement caught your attention, as you stared at him with an eyebrow raised. He stared back at you and just mouthed a “What?” before you let it go and focused your attention on the nurse that had just arrived.

She offered you pain medication, which you took gladly, and within seconds you were starting to feel better. Your X-ray also didn’t take long to happen. He tried to help you get off the bed, but you pushed him away with your eyes, something he’d seen a lot coming from you, and only took the hand of the nurse to assist you to the wheelchair. The nurse, a woman around what Jason thought was her late thirties, with a round face and dirty blonde hair, asked if he would like to accompany you, but you happily replied in his place. “No!”

He waited for you to return, sat on the same uncomfortable chair you had left him on and his nearly discharged phone in his hands. It couldn’t distract him, though, as the guilt built up inside him, and he could only think of you the entire time you were away.

You had left your phone on the hospital bed, and it lit up with a notification, catching Jason’s attention. His eyes lingered on your photo as its background, but soon the screen turned dark again. Thinking once, twice, three times, he jolted from his chair to reach his arm over and grab it, unlocking the screen to stare at the picture more carefully.

There, you were smiling, something he noticed in the two months he’d met you he’d never seen before. He wondered if you could really do it or if that picture was just a result of your mad editing skills. Your hair was loose, not on the high ponytail or the braids you wore to the gym, but loose like the day he had met you at that party, and he thought you looked really pretty.

A bit of a narcissist, he thought to himself, but continued to smile at the picture in his hands.

When the same nurse brought you back from your X-ray, he quickly returned your phone to its original spot, as he watched you try to make your way to the bed without any help. Instinctively, he offered you his arm for support, and was very surprised once you took it, walking slowly till you were sat on the bed.

Thanking the nurse, Jason helped you lay down again, picking up your feet to place it on the bed and pulling you up till you were comfortably sat.

Then it was awkward again, with him searching for his chair to get away from you and focusing his eyes on the small bit of skin lifting up on his thumb. It ached a little, but for sure much less than your foot did. Jason couldn’t stop the guilt, couldn’t stop thinking of you, your feet, how close he was to you then and how disastrous he was to knock the weight stand down.

He knew he’d apologized a thousand times, but he felt he needed to do it a million more.

“Yn,” he called, and you looked up at him. Something in your look made him stall, he wasn’t sure what, but recomposed himself to continue. “Again, I’m really sorry. I never meant to…”

“Urg, I know,” you cut him off. “Can you just stop it, I’m already feeling better,” you complained, but offered a small smile upon feeling sorry for reacting that way.

You knew it wasn’t his fault, and as much as you disliked him, you also liked to believe you were fair and only blamed him for what he actually did and not this silly little accident.

“I know it wasn’t your fault. You’re an asshole, but not an evil one.” you said, hoping he could see you really meant it through your eyes and stop apologizing every five minutes.

“Thanks…?” he replied, letting out a breathy laugh, which you accompanied with one of your own.

You never thought you’d be laughing alongside Jason, never mind in a hospital room on a Friday night, but that wasn’t as bad as the picture may seem in someone’s head. Not that you were starting to like him, no. You simply knew how to enjoy a moment.

Jason was also enjoying it, especially since it wasn’t his feet that were hurt. He wanted to find something else, another joke, anything to continue this lighthearted conversation, but you fell in silence once again until the doctor returned with your X-ray results. This time, though, the silence that fell upon you wasn’t awkward, rather satisfying after so much hecticness since you’d left the gym.

He actually enjoyed being in your presence this time, and the short glimpse of a smile he got from you relieved him a little.

Thankfully, as expected, nothing was broken and you were soon released from the hospital with a medical prescription for painkillers, ice packs and long rest. Jason helped you get off the bed and was beside you as you walked slowly out of the building, barefoot against your good will and thin gym clothes not shielding you from the cold hospital air.

“Wait here till I get the car, it will be better if you don’t walk too much, it might hurt your foot even further.” Jason told you as you exited the building, walking ahead in the direction of the hospital parking lot.

“I’m Ubering home.” you announced, and he stopped dead on his heels.

“No.” he countered. “I’m driving you home.”

“You don’t have to, I can go on my own. It’s not like we want to spend the rest of our Friday night together, anyways.” you said, and something within Jason dropped.

“Yn, it’s nothing. Really. I promised Roy I’d take care of y…”

“I already said it, Jason. I don’t want to go home with you.” you repeated, glaring at him with wide eyes. “Why are you so insistent? Do you want to find out where I live so you can come murder me while I sleep?”

“If I wanted you dead I could do it right here, baby.” he gave you a toothless smile. “Fine!” he threw his hands in the air. “If you insist, go on then. You already ruined my Friday night.”

“Fine.” you said, faking a smile.

“Fine.”

Jason stepped away, leaving in the direction he remembered parking Roy’s car earlier, angry that you couldn’t be nice for a day and accept his ride home. It wouldn’t hurt you, in fact, it would only be safer. He’d drop you home, help inside your house or apartment, whatever you lived in, could even be a hobbit hole for all he cared, he wasn’t going to stay long anyway, make sure you were alright and leave.

However, Jason was raised a gentleman, and he couldn’t simply leave you there, alone, at this hour of the night. Especially not in Gotham of all places. So, he did the unthinkable when it came to you, and stayed. Turned on his heels and walked back in your direction.

Staring at your phone, begging for a driver to accept your ride, you didn’t notice him returning until his shadow blended in with yours. You looked at him, still bearing his gym clothes, the smell of sweat and coconut vanished a little, and raised your eyebrow.

“What?” you questioned.

“I can’t leave you here alone. Not at this hour,” he stated the obvious. “Roy would kill me if I did.”

He lied. He didn’t think Roy would kill him, he’d be upset, but not kill him. Roy didn’t care much about his clients, just a few of them, you included, but Jason would keep that a secret. Perhaps, he’d kill him if he’d left you there, or maybe that was just Jason’s thoughts going a hundred miles per hour as the faint lights of the hospital hit your face.

“Whatever.” you said, looking back at your phone the moment you saw a driver accepting your request.

“Whatever” he mocked your voice, but you only rolled your eyes, too tired to come up with something else in return.

The thing is, you were feeling bad for Jason. Feeling bad for treating him so poorly the whole night while he wasn’t anything but the sweetest. You just couldn’t help it when you were around him, too stuck up in past events, too untrained to receive this sort of care from another man, to know how to react.

You felt the heat of shame reach your cheeks and you tried losing your ponytail to hide your face from him with your hair. But the shame and guilt came in strong, and the next word you said was perhaps the most painful thing you had to endure all night.

“Than…” you tried, but when he looked up at you from his own cellphone your voice cracked. “Thank you.”

Jason’s eyes popped open, surprised with what came out of your pretty mouth. So, amused as he was, he raised an eyebrow at you, begging with his expression to hear that word coming out of you again.

“Thank you, for tonight.” you clarified, as if it wasn’t obvious, but the smug smirk on his face and his eyebrow still up annoyed you into continuing. “You were really sweet in making me company, so thank you.”

“Wow, I’m gonna cry at such beautiful words,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, a feat Jason had grown used to and was actually starting to like little, as this time, a small smile forced its way out on your lips. “But you don’t have to thank me, I owe you that.”

“Whatever.” you shrugged.

“Whatever” he mocked you again, but now really stealing that smile from you.

You could do it after all. It wasn’t just an editing thing, it was real. You could actually smile, who would’ve thought? And who would’ve thought Jason would actually think about it all night after he watched you leave in an unknown car, think about it as he drove back to the gym, and as he rode home on his bike. A feat he’d never expect to see but that he was glad he actually caught a glimpse of, even if for just a moment.

Roy told him he’d let him know when you arrived home safe, knowing full well Jason would wonder. Roy also knew, well thought, other things about you two, but those he’d let you two find out on your own.

Arriving home, you were thankful for living in a somewhat new building and for the existence of elevators. May the guy that invented those rest in peace in heaven and his children to live wonderful lives.

Your foot still hurt, but you could walk without crying. The years of pain endured during volleyball seasons since high school had trained you well to live through all sorts of pain, the one on your feet tonight not excluded.

You wanted to get in, order some expensive dinner, take a long bath, pick a fun movie, and watch it until you fell asleep. However, your wishes would not be granted tonight, because as soon as you opened your apartment door, you were greeted by a voice you did not think you’d hear today.

“Oh, thank god!” your mother exclaimed, rushing from her place at the sofa to embrace you in a tight hug. “We were so worried.”

“Don’t you reply to your text messages?” your father asked, his tone, as usual, harsh and imposing.

“I-I’m sorry,” you started to apologize, letting go of your mother’s hug. “I didn’t see your message, I swear, I was… busy.” You lied.

“Where were you this late, honey? We were so worried,” your mother petted your hair, fixing the loose strands behind your ear and making sure it all sat perfectly in place. “We know this city isn’t safe, you could’ve been murdered!”

“Mom,” you laughed at her dramatics. “I’m fine, I was just at the hospital.” you explained, though your voice lowered considerably.

“The hospital?” your father screamed gravely, and you could hear the anger hiding somewhere in his tone.

“I-it was nothing, really. Just some weights that fell on my feet at the gym and…”

“You still insist on that gym thing? Haven’t I told you it is not a place for a proper lady to be?”

“Dad, it isn’t…”

“Yn, have you decided when you are going back to Cameron?” your father demanded to know, bringing back a subject he always insisted on.

Your parents never wanted you to move to Gotham in the first place, thinking you’d be better off going to your local college, living at home, and finding word around the area. But yet, here you were. And they hated it.

“Dad, I’m not going back now, I have a job here.” you tried to explain, for what seemed to be the millionth time just this month.

“You can have a job at Cameron.” He cut you off, not ever allowing you to finish a sentence.

“Not in a big magazine.” you tried to argue, but you knew your father didn’t like it when you did, and you knew even more he was better at it than you ever will.

“You can have whatever job you want back in Cameron, Yn, and you know it. You tell me and we’ll get it…”

“Dad…” you tried to stop him, but he continued.

“Your mother and I had to work so hard to raise you and your sisters properly, to make you proper ladies, mothers, for you to just throw away all of it for a job at a silly women’s magazine. You’re just being an ungrateful…”

“Reymond!” your mother stopped you from being scolded even more and held you by your shoulders, warming them from the cold that lingered your skin since you left the hospital. “She has just got out of the hospital. Leave the discussions for later, right sweetie?”

“It’s okay, mama.” you quietly replied, but the tears sitting in your eyes told her otherwise.

“What did the doctor say?” she asked, breaking your thoughts away from your father’s words and you gladly told her everything the hot doctor had told you, about how nothing was broken, and how you just had to rest and take your medication.

As your mother took care of you, your father sat on the sofa, his expression the usual frown you’d grown used to all your life. You knew, if he could, he’d drag you back to your hometown and make you live the same life he and your mother had, the one your sister lived now, and the one he so wished you would follow.

In his view, he’d allowed you to go too far when he let you come to Gotham in the first place, but his wife and eldest daughter had said it was a good opportunity you could not let pass. A free ride to Gotham University. And he did let you go, but he regretted it every single day he did not have you under his wing. Under his control.

Sitting you on the armchair, your mother made sure your foot was elevated, made sure to know your medication hours and that you were comfortable before making you food and almost feeding you herself. She watched you all night while your father’s eyes never left the tv, even when you called him, trying to explain yourself once again. Why, you didn’t know, but you did it every time.

Instead, he watched whatever game was on tonight, no other words coming out of him until he and your mother retreated to your bedroom, leaving you to sleep on the hard sofa. Your mother kissed you goodbye, your father didn’t even glimpse at you.

You prayed they wouldn’t snoop around your bedroom like they’d done once before, hoping all your new hiding spots were actually efficient. You prayed they wouldn’t want to stay for the weekend, especially your mother after finding you injured, and that they’d leave the next morning as soon as the sun rose in the sky. Because just the few hours you had with them tonight were enough to set you anxiety aflame, taking you a while before finally managing to fall asleep.

When morning arrived, your mother woke you up so your father could watch the tv again and you could help her with breakfast, your injury apparently now forgotten. You ate in silence, hoping he too would share a single word other than the prayers he had you do before eating, but as sure as you are that the sun will rise every morning, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Jacob’s son has just graduated medical school and is returning to Cameron.” He informed, letting you know you were in for another uncomfortable topic. You rolled your eyes instinctively and received a warning to which you dutifully apologized for.

“He’s really good looking, sweetie,” your mother chimed in. “He could make a fine husb…”

“I’m still too young to marry.” you stated, even though you knew it would piss him off.

“Your sister was married as soon as she graduated college,” your father replied. “She’s now an active part of our church, and I want you to do the same.”

“I barely know this guy!” you tried, already feeling exasperated and it wasn’t even 8am yet.

“You could meet him, if you went back home.”

Here he was again with the same topic. One, two, three, four… you counted in your head, holding yourself together to not say anything to piss him off further.

“I’ll get ready for work.” you said, standing up from your place at the table.

“But it’s Saturday!” your mother exclaimed.

“And I’m expected at work. That’s what journalists do.” and avoiding any further conflicts, you locked yourself in your bedroom to get changed. Yesterday, you had frowned when your boss told you to, you’re needed to work on the weekend, but right now you were never so grateful for your terrible working hours.

Thankfully, once you got out of your room, ready to head straight to work, if necessary, your parents were already settled to leave, having to return home against your mother’s wishes to work on whatever it was your father needed. You didn’t pay attention. You were just happy to close your door after watching the elevator door close, taking your parents far away from you.

It was almost 9pm when you returned home, your day much longer than you had expected, but shootings never went as planned, and this time everything seemed to not work out at all.

You dragged your feet to your front door, fishing for the keys on your bag as the door close to yours opened.

“Arriving now?” your neighbor asked.

“Hm-hum,” you hummed in response. “Had to work on a shoot for the magazine today, I’m exhausted.”

Sighing deeply, you rested your shoulder against your door, enjoying the only nice presence you had your entire day.

“Saw your parents arriving yesterday,” she commented, raising an eyebrow, a move you’d seen enough the past two days. “Everything alright?”

It’s probable that no one else in your life knew so much about your relationship with your family like Nessie did, and you were glad you had her to share it with, not knowing what would be of you if she wasn’t there to help relieve all the build up frustration. But tonight, you were too tired to share anything.

“I’m gonna be fine,” you offered a smile. “I just wanna forget everything, really.”

Her eyes glimmered with a hint of mischievousness you knew to be wary of, but with a smile she made you an offer.

“I’m headed to a party tonight…” she awaited a sign, a huff, a roll of your eyes, but they didn’t come. So, she continued. “Lots of people, lot’s of alcohol to forget.”

She knew it wasn’t your thing, but it didn’t cost to try, and you’d gone the last time she invited you too. Sure, you ended up hating it and going back home before 11pm, but she wanted to help, and nothing better to forget than a lot of free alcohol.

Her offer, for once, sounded interesting. Your parents, your work, your visit to the hospital the night before, too much in too little time had your head heavy, and you desperately wanted to feel light. So, against your better judgment, you said yes. Your friend jumped up with happiness, you changed your outfit, and thirty minutes later you had a drink in hand.

Jason’s brother let him know of the party tonight, but as was customary, he ditched him for the first girl he met within five minutes of their arrival. So now, he roamed around the house for drinks and snacks to entertain him while he decided to stay a little longer or just go home instead.

Turning a corner carefully this time, he walked through the living room and into the large garden, where numbers of people danced together to a pop song he did not recognize. However, upon staring at the dancing crowd, he spotted a scene he had to stop to make sure was actually real, that he wasn’t imagining things after too much alcohol.

A plastic cup in hand, Yn danced and sang to the tune, laughing with the group and finishing her drink down at once. Yn, the same girl who just last night he’d hurt a foot, the same girl he’d bumped into two months ago and seemed displeased to be at a party just like this one.

He had to stop and admire. It was a sight he did not expect to see. Resting against a table, he filled his cup with beer and crossed his arms on his chest while he watched the scene in front of him.

You, visibly drunk, or at least tipsy, wore a pair of jeans and a top that revealed a bit much of your chest that he was used to. He usually avoided them at the gym, I mean, he avoided you at all, but tonight his eyes lingered there for a while longer than he’d proudly admit.

He watched your hips move like he’d never even pictured before, or perhaps he did. But anyways, he was glad to be seeing you move like that. It wasn’t provocative, at all, you were just having fun. But it did provoke him, it did mess with him, it did make him trapped into your body, your moves, your smile.

Damn it, he thought, you looked hot.

It must have been the alcohol. He was clearly out of his mind. Refiling the drink he did not notice he’d consumed entirely, he vanished from the garden into a much quieter place, hoping to forget your image from his head, but failing oh so miserably.

Noticing your own drink was gone, you looked at the table where once they stood, only to find everything completely empty. Not one drop left for you to drink. Leaving the garden in search of more alcohol, you felt your head start to buzz, but the lightness you felt compensated everything.

You searched the kitchen, the living room, nothing. Where the hell is the alcohol? Scanning the room you were now in, you found a single bottle on the steps that lead to the upper floor. So, you took it.

“It has an owner,” someone sang before you could muster to catch the drink. Huffing, you let out a pout you honestly could not control, and just allowed you back to fall against the wall. “Are you upset?”

The baby tone used in mockery made you realize who that voice belonged to, and you greeted it like you usually would.

“Have I told you how cute you look when you roll your eyes?” he teased, biting the edge of his cup.

“Fuck off,” you swore.

“What a foul mouth,” he made fun of you again, and you were so intoxicated tonight you couldn’t let out a smile. “Did you know that until last night I didn’t think you were capable of smiling?”

He questioned you out of nowhere and you couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh, your head thrown back in reflex, and Jason swore he could hear that sound all day. “What?” you screamed through the loud music. “Of course I can smile.”

“You usually don’t,” he came closer. “Not at me at least.”

“It’s because you don’t usually deserve it.” you gave him a wink.

“Why are you so mean?” he pouted, and you laughed again.

“I hate you.” you stated, although your lingering smile didn’t make him believe your words.

“It turns me on,” he bit his lips. “I love it.”

His statement made your stomach feel funny, and your eyes rested on his lips tucked between his teeth for a while longer than you should’ve. Rolling your eyes, you left him to return to your friend, drunk but still aware of the shit you could’ve gotten into if you had stayed by him any longer.

Jason watched you leave and followed in tow, holding the door above his head as he saw you return to your friends. They had bottles in hand and immediately filled your cup, as you soon drowned yourself in alcohol once more. One cup after another, he watched you pouring your drinks, dancing with your friends, and having fun as he never thought you would.

It was way past midnight, some time between 1 or 2 am when he noticed you stumbling into the house again, a hazy smile on your face. Instinctively, he walked to you, holding you up as he guided you, or rather, you guided him to wherever you wanted to go.

“Where’s Nessie?” you pouted, a look he found adorable on you.

“Who?” he questioned.

“Nessie!” you said, as if he should know who that person was. He asked you one more time who you meant, and you proceeded to explain your friend’s appearance through a series of babbled out words.

With his hand resting on the base of your back, he helped you look for Nessie, yet she was nowhere to be found. Nobody seemed to know where she’d gone to either, and he noticed you getting progressively more worried.

“Maybe she went home,” he suggested.

“We were going together,” you moaned, and he had to stop himself from smiling at your state. “I’m gonna go home.”

You released yourself from his touch and strolled out of the room, stumbling steps knocking you against tons of people on the way. Following after you, Jason knew he couldn’t let you go out like this, not alone at least.

“Hey, Yn.” he called, watching you walk through the front door. “I’m coming with you.”

Grabbing at your arm, he waited for you to complain, but instead you nodded and puffed your lips out again, upset over your friend leaving you behind. Jason wanted to hug you. You looked so adorable, how could he not, but it would be too… weird, so he ignored his feelings and waited with you on the sidewalk.

Noticing the time pass and no car stop outside, Jason focused his gaze on you absentmindedly staring at your surroundings. “Did you call a cab?” he asked. You shook your head.

Letting out a breathy laugh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call for a ride. “What’s your address?”

“Hmm…” you took your time thinking, trying to remember your street, neighborhood, whatever could tip you into finding your address, but too much alcohol had seemingly destroyed your neurons and you couldn’t remember a thing.

“Okay…” Jason sighed, thinking of what to do next.

Losing your balance, you almost fell if it wasn’t for Jason’s strong grip on your waist. He held you close to his body, as your head immediately laid on his chest, your eyes heaving and your body becoming lighter in Jason’s arms. Against his better judgment, there was only one thing he could do.

“That’s it,” he said, staring at your sleepy frame as he held you firmly by the shoulders. “I’m taking you home with me.”

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#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

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fairykazu · 5 months

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NOT-SUPER-SECRET-CRUSH FT. SCARAMOUCHE contents: fem! reader, friends to lovers, requited love, highschool au, zhongli is ur dad, modern au masterlist | series masterlist | part two | part three

it was too early for this, the flickering fluorescent lighting overhead, snapping scaramouche's tired eyes awake. it was obvious he didn't get much sleep as his eyes were sunken in as much as he tried to hide it with concealer. putting his head down in his arms, yawning as ms. yae's aggravating voice rang in his ears. "scaramouche, lift your head up. you of all students need to pay attention." scaramouche took a deep breath as he rolled his eyes, what was the point of dissing him in the class when there's a student named itto who regularly skips this class? "scaramouche."

"ok." he lifted his head up, his hair disheveled. miss yae walked closer to the end of the classroom, her heels clicking with each step. "mr. raiden, don't make me call your mother."

scaramouche hissed back, "you would like that wouldn't you."

the silence filled the room as the pink haired teacher looked taken back. "just because of that, i'm calling her."

"whatever." after his last word, the class spilled back to normal as scaramouche felt as if he had to peel his eyelids back just to pay attention. but the noise was overwhelming as the lesson yae is making is coming out of one ear and out the other. trying to fight back the urge, he pinched himself but fell victim of falling asleep in the boring english class.

school wasn't the greatest for you because you're failing the two requirements to pass. math and science... screw the people who created this topic. if school was solely history and english, you would be flying out of the teyvat with rainbows, and you'd become the nyan cat or something.

when you arrived at your class, slightly late, miss guizhong greeted you with a smile, motioning you to come closer to her. she announced to the class to check their answers for homework as it was on the board. she turned to you, "name, you are not surviving this class."

"i know..."

"im not sure how you're not grasping this concept even if i had given you one of my best students to tutor you."

to be fair, haitham wasn't the greatest. he was the best student in your class, but he spent most of the tutoring with his not-boyfriend, bickering at any chance he could get.

"i know." it's really tiring to hear this even though you know you're failing, and you know you should get better by now. after all you are a junior now. but it's hard after years of getting used to being the bottom of the barrel. you tried to joke with yourself, 'at least, i have english and history!'

"if you know, scaramouche raiden, then you could ask him. he's one of the top students for these subjects." guizhong said, jotting down his name on a post it notes, giving you the yellow-colored paper.

oh wait, you forgot that scaramouche was a student that is soaring in the skies in this subject. maybe he'll help.

it was break and you spotted the familiar purple haired male from afar. you ran after him, attacking him from behind by pulling back on the lash tab. halting his way to his spot, scaramouche only turned his head to you. he was greeted by your smile, you tugged on the lash tab again, "hey, scara, can i ask you something?"

letting go of the back of the backpack when scaramouche turned fully to you, he rolled his eyes, as his friends walked ahead, assuming he'll catch up, "you did."

"haha, you're so funny." you glanced back at him, his face only told you to "get to the point."

"um, can you help me with ms guizhong's math class and miss nahida's bio class..."

scaramouche scoffed at the idea you just proposed, helping you? why would he even help you? you noticed how his face is not changing from his resting bitch face. you feared that you had to resort to older measures. "scaramouche, pleasseee! if you don't help me, my dad's going to kill me."

"how would mr. morax kill his favorite kid?" scaramouche raised a brow. "'cause, i'm literally failing like ... some of my classes... especially the class, my auntie is teaching...." you admitted, sheepishly. scaramouche's eyes widened, the daughter of one of the best teachers are failing. either you're really stupid or she sucks at his job. if he's being honest, it's probably the former. miss guizhong was great at her job.

seeing how scaramouche's porcelain poker face break, you took this as a chance to jab him where it hurts. you know that scaramouche isn't particularly good at the subject of english, especially when his teacher was literally his mom's girlfriend. "can you please help me with math and biology?" you began to whisper, "after that, i can help you with english homework from ms yae."

his face scrunched up as you could tell he was breaking resistence to your idea. itching the spot on his neck, he sighed, "fine. i will."

"alright! when do you want to meet up?"

"for?"

"the tutoring stuff."

"i did not agree to tutoring you."

"yes you did." you played a recording of scaramouche saying yes to the convo. just to annoy him, you started at the beginning and played his voice slower, a masculine voice going, "fine. i will." in reverb, basically catching the male red handed.

"you're insufferable."

"i know." you giggled as turning the opposite direction of scaramouche, not even looking back. unbeknownst to you, scaramouche was hiding a small smile.

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major-mads · 4 months

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Chapter 1: Welcome to Thorpe Abbotts

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: Ruth has been living in my head for months now, and I'm so so so excited to share her with y'all! This series is Jess (footprintsinthesxnd) and I's brainchild. Our ideas just seamlessly fit tegether, and here we are! We actually wrote this first chapter a week before the 26th, so if anything happens to almost exactly match the show, we came up with it before we saw it on there! (we're just good like that 😎)

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 5.3k

The hum of the engine was the only sound in the C-47 as it soared over the English countryside. The patients had finally settled, and the morphine finally took effect and brought them some sense of relief. Hope slumped back into her seat with a sigh, smiling over at Ruth who looked as exhausted as she was.

“You looked tired,” Hope smiled at her friend who just sighed.

“It’s been a long day. I can’t wait to get back to base,” Ruth pushed her short blonde hair out of her eyes, sighing again.

“Hey Frank, how much longer have we got,” Hope called to one of the pilots.

“We’ve had to make a detour, doll. We’re heading to Thorpe Abbotts airfield and will evacuate the wounded to Thorpe St. Andrews Hospital. It’s not far now.”

Hope felt her heart flutter, her throat drying as she slouched back against her seat.

“Hey Hope, what’s wrong?” Ruth leaned forward, gripping Hope’s hand and squeezing it, her large blue eyes filled with worry.

“It’s Hugh,” Hope muttered, her eyes a little teary but a smile on her lips nonetheless. “My brother is stationed at Thorpe Abbotts with the 100th Bomb Group. I haven’t seen him in so long.”

Ruth’s concerned frown turned to a smile, “So I’m finally going to meet this Hugh I’ve heard so much about.”

Hope laughed, patting her friend on the back gently, “You will, but don’t get any ideas.”

The aircraft soared towards its destination, and the occasional jolting and shaking on the metal bird brought no fear to the flight nurses anymore. Once, the ratting metal coffin struck the fear of God into them but now this was a peaceful ride.

Hope watched out the window as the lush, green countryside grew closer and closer.

“Hey, Frank! Stop hugging the hedgerows for crying out loud. Don’t let the girl down before we’ve reached the field,” Hope called, grimacing as the trees seemed to grow ever closer.

“Who’s flying this bird, Armstrong? You or me?” Frank retorted, not looking away from the cockpit.

“Well, maybe you could use some lessons in keeping the old girl airborne then. We’ll beat up the airfield at this rate.”

Ruth laughed, watching Hope argue with the pilot once more, “You know Hope, maybe you should have gotten your wings. Then you could be flying us instead of Frank.”

“You’ve got a good point there, Ruth. Ya hear that Frank, Ruth wants me flying instead of you.”

Frank’s reply was a muffled curse, and both girls found themselves giggling in response. The plane tooled along for a while longer until it finally began to descend, rattling as it lost altitude and shaking its victims vigorously. The wheels touching down on the tarmac filled everyone with great relief.

“Well that was one ropey landing, Frank. Maybe I could give ya a few lessons?” Hope asked politely, batting her eyelashes at the pilot who just huffed.

“Shove off, Hope. Now get to it, your blood wagons are waiting.”

Hope cringed at the nickname the ambulances had been given, they were lifesaving vehicles transporting sick men, why make it sound so ominous?

Hope hopped down from the plane, instructing the stretcher-bearers on which soldiers were in the worst condition. Between them, Hope and Ruth helped carry three wounded men to the ambulances when an obnoxiously loud voice called, “Well, I’ll be damned!”

Hope spun round, her boots scuffing at the earth.

“HUGH!” Her brother laughed jovially, jogging over to them.

“Gosh, I’ve missed you, Little Bird,” Hugh threw his arms around Hope’s shoulders, nestling his head into her neck as he always did. Hope couldn’t comprehend what was happening. She was finally in her brother's arms, finally reunited with him after so long. She gripped tightly onto the back of his uniform, burying her face in his chest. He smelt of smoke and engine oil just like he did back home.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmured, just loud enough for Hugh to hear as he tightened his grip on her further. She could feel Ruth hovering awkwardly behind her and she turned to greet her friend, pulling out of her brother's arms.

“Ruth, this is my brother, Hugh. Hugh, this is my friend, Ruth.”

Ruth smiled sweetly, sticking out her hand to shake Hugh’s but instead, he pulled her into a bear hug.

“Any friend of Hope’s is a friend of mine,” he assured Ruth and she smiled, her cheeks turning a deep red at the embarrassment of the situation.

“Hugh, put her down. Look, you're making the poor girl blush,” Hope laughed, which only caused Ruth to blush harder.

“My apologies Ruthie, where are my manners,” he bowed, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Oh, uh- nice to meet you.” Ruth stumbled over her words, quickly using the excuse that she needed her flight jacket as an excuse to return to the plane.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” Hope groaned, shoving her brother playfully in the ribs.

“I don’t know, I’ve always considered myself rather charming,” Hugh protested, puffing out his chest in pride.

Hope nodded, spinning around to call Ruth to join them. The blonde soon was walking back toward the group, now wearing her fleece aviation jacket, and to her relief, without a rosy dusting on her cheeks.

“I still can’t believe out of all the airfields in England, you managed to land at this one,” Hugh laughed, throwing an arm around both girls' shoulders. “You two are in for a real treat.”

As they walked through the base, Hugh pointed out the various hard stands.

“See, right there,” he pointed at a few heavies. “That’s “Just-a-Snappin’, Our Baby, and the M’lle Zig Zig.”

“Where do you guys get these names, Hugh?” Hope laughed, her eyes trailing over each one’s elaborate nose art, along with some very proud-looking engineers and artists who had clearly put so much love into the bombers.

Shrugging his shoulders, Hugh sighed, shaking his head. “I couldn’t tell ya. What’s your plane named?”

“Just the Angel of Death,” Hope chirped.

Hugh stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “Always with the dark humor, aren’t you, Hope.”

After hearing so much about the man from Hope, Ruth felt as if she’d known Hugh for years when in reality she’d only known him for a few minutes. She knew the stories of how the siblings played in the woods of Columbia, Missouri, exploring the famous rock bridge that brought hikers and tourists into the town. She knew of his love for the St. Louis Cardinals, and how he wore his battered and dirty Dizzy Dean jersey for a week straight after they won the World Series in ‘31 and ‘34. Maybe he’d heard so much about Ruth from Hope that he felt the same way.

‘It would make sense based on his initial reaction.’ she thought, absentmindedly reaching up and grabbing the small pendant hanging from her neck, running her fingers over its smooth edges.

Before they knew it, the trio reached their destination: his officer nissen hut. They were long semi-circular metal huts, not known for their warmth or comfortability, but they were a soft place to land at the end of the day…which is a lot more than most young men of the time could say.

“Welcome to my humble abode, ladies,” he announced as they neared the building, holding out his arms in a ‘ta-da’ motion. “She’s not much, but she’s home.”

He began to open the door for them, but a voice in the distance stopped him.

“Charlie! No girls in the huts,” the voice called. “I told you that a few weeks ago.”

Turning toward the voice, Hope did a double take when she saw who its owner. Approaching them was a tall, tan, brunette, who wore a bomber jacket with his hair messily combed to the side. He walked with a swagger that instantly put a bad taste in Hope’s mouth.

She sighed to herself, thinking, ‘Why do all the cute ones have to be cocky?’

Hugh groaned, pointing at Hope. “Buck, come on, this is my-”

The man finally reached them, and Hope stopped herself from being captivated by his blue-green eyes.

“I don’t care who she is. You know the rules,” he interrupted, turning to the girls. “Sorry girls, but I think it’s time for you to go.”

Ruth cringed and side-eyed Hope, already expecting a snarky response to his comment.

“Well,” she paused, checking her watch for effect. “Seeing as we have patients in the infirmary, it actually isn’t time for us to go.”

It was then that he looked down at her upper arm, taking in the bright red and white medic band that adorned her uniform. Ruth could see the slightest show of remorse in his expression as his eyes rose back up to Hope’s.

“My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t know-”

Hope didn’t let him finish, cutting him off. “Maybe you should know all the facts before you make an assumption, Buck.”

“Hope!” Ruth hissed, trying to placate her friend, but the woman ignored her.

“See, other than my brother, this is why I can’t stand airmen. They’re cocky-”

Realizing the flaw in Hope’s argument, Ruth ran a hand down her face, secondhand embarrassment filling her. Just when she was about to interject, Buck beat her to it.

“Now hold on. Maybe you should know all the facts before you make an assumption, sweetheart.”

Hope’s mind ran rampant with frustration, and she stared up at him with contempt as he smiled cheekily at her. His eyes were locked on hers as they had a stare-down, neither wanting to be the first to give in.

“So,” Hugh cleared his throat in an attempt to break their silent battle. “Let me introduce you guys. Ladies, this is my squadron commander, Major Buck Cleven.”

Buck tilted his head slightly, not breaking eye contact with Hope. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she replied dryly.

Ruth shook her head and sighed, amazed at her fellow nurse’s childlike stubbornness.

“And Buck, this is my sister, Hope, and her friend Ruth. They’re flight nurses with the 806th MAETS.”

Ruth raised a hand and waved with a quiet, “Hello,” and Hope felt a little satisfaction when the man’s eyes widened at the word sister.

Buck’s eys left Hope for a moment to acknowledge Ruth, who stood beside her, with a nod and a smile. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“You, too, Major,” she responded with a small grin. He then turned back to Hope.

“So, you’re the infamous little sister we’ve all heard about?” Buck chuckled, placing his hands on his hips.

The woman glanced over at Hugh, who wore a guilty expression. “All good things, I hope.”

“For the most part,” Buck chimed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know about your little escapade to Kansas City, and how–”

Hope’s eyes widened in disbelief that her brother had divulged her most embarrassing moment. “Hugh!!” she cried, smacking his chest. “You lying piece of crap! You promised!”

“It’s not like I thought you’d ever meet anyone here, Hope!”

Composing herself, she took a deep breath and sent Buck a tight-lipped smile. “It looks like you know a lot more about me than I do about you, Major.”

“It would seem so, Nurse Armstrong.”

As Ruth amusedly listened to Gale and Hope’s banter, she felt like she was being watched. Glancing around the group, her heart skipped a beat as her eyes met another set of icy blues, ones that were new to the group.

‘How did I miss him walking up?’ she wondered.

Their gazes locked for a few seconds that seemed to last minutes, and a shudder ran through her. Breaking from his stupor, he quickly looked away with a light pink dusting on his cheeks. Ruth felt her own blush creeping up her neck and wrapped her flight jacket closer to her body, the English chill suddenly getting to her.

Her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own as they fought to return to the handsome stranger. It took all her willpower to keep them on Hugh, who was talking to the group.

“I can’t imagine going up without weapons on board. We’ve got 12 50-cal brownings and sometimes I feel that’s not enough.”

The battle within herself became too much, and Ruth finally gave in to her temptation. Her eyes flitted over to the man, and she silently sighed in relief when she found his gaze elsewhere. It was then that she discovered her first assumption of the man being ‘handsome’ was an understatement. He had a strong and well-defined jawline, expressive and striking blue-grey eyes, a straight nose, and a slightly curved lip, which held a pencil-thin mustache.

She liked the mustache.

He wore a crooked crusher cap and a white fleece-lined flying jacket that looked somewhat dirty, accompanied by his brown service top poking out at the jacket collar.

Ruth was mesmerized by the man, and she didn’t even know his name. A wide grin broke out on his face as he engaged in the group’s conversation, his upper lip curling up, allowing a few teeth to peek out the top, and Ruth felt her stomach lurch for the second time in a short few minutes.

Focus, Ruth. Focus.

An elbow to her side broke her stare, and the group’s eyes were suddenly on her as Hope looked at her expectantly.

“What?” Ruth asked, looking like a deer in headlights.

“I said that we would go insane without each other up there.”

“Oh,” she sighed with a small smile. “You would probably kill Frank if I weren’t there.”

The group broke out in laughter, and Ruth found her eyes absentmindedly moving to the mystery man. As he chuckled, his eyes wrinkled at the edges, and his full smile revealed a dazzlingly straight set of pearly whites. His loud laughter was infectious, and a few giggles escaped her mouth.

As the group’s chuckles started to die down, Hope looked over at Ruth. She took in her friend’s shy smile and blush, then followed her gaze to the airman across the circle. Realizing what was happening, she nudged Ruth lightly, a teasing eyebrow raised.

“What?” Ruth grumbled under her breath, leaning closer to her friend’s ear as the guys carried on the group’s conversation.

“You like him.”

The blonde’s smile fell and heat rushed up her neck. “Who?”

Hope tilted her head incredulously, rolling her eyes. “You know who.”

“No, I don’t,” she defended,

“He’s staring,” Hope grinned, nodding his direction subtly.

Ruth’s eyes rose to his, and sure enough, his striking eyes were gazing into hers yet again. This time, however, he didn’t look away. The corner of his lips quirked up into a barely noticeable grin, and she felt as if she was shrinking under the intensity of his gaze.

“Uh, I need to go check on the patients,” she sputtered, pointing her fingers in the direction of the infirmary. With a curt nod to Hope, she quickly turned and started toward the infirmary, her blonde curls bouncing with each step. A few seconds later, she spun to face the group and called, “But it was…uh…nice to meet y’all.”

Hugh didn’t miss a beat and hollered back his reply. “You, too, Ruthie!” He then paused until she was out of earshot. “She alright?”

“She’s fine,” Hope sighed, used to her friend’s more timid personality. She had hoped that over time, her extroversion would rub off on the nurse, but so far, she had no such luck. Ruth was more of a one-on-one person, not one for groups of people unless she knew them pretty well. It seemed the smaller the group got, the more Ruth seemed to come alive. It was like pulling teeth to get Ruth to agree to go out with the other girls of the unit, but when she finally stepped out of her comfort zone, she usually had a good time filled with friends, fellas, and amazing big band music.

Ruth’s admirer joined the conversation, and Hope smirked, watching his eyes follow her friend. “How far away is your base?”

“We’re in Berkshire, so by car, it’s about three hours, but by plane, probably 45 minutes.”

“So not far,” he chimed, raising his eyebrows and nodding to himself. Before anyone else could comment, he spoke again.

“See you boys later,” he said absentmindedly as he watched Ruth’s figure go around a corner. Clapping Buck’s shoulder, he set off and followed the nurse’s path around the corner, missing the raised eyebrows and confused expressions sent his way. All eyes followed him as he, too, disappeared around the corner.

Hope pursed her lips at the new development, unsure of the man following Ruth. “Should I be worried?”

“Yep,” Hugh confirmed with a curt nod.

Buck hit him on the chest, chuckling under his breath. “Johnny’s a good man, darlin’.”

Hugh suppressed a snort thinking of the commander’s wild habits and how Buck didn't exactly answer her question.

“Anyways, back wh-”

And just like that, the conversation continued, and Hope had a strange feeling of contentment being on base. Finally being with family again.

As Ruth briskly made her way around the nissen huts to the infirmary, her heart continued to beat rapidly in her chest, and her mind replayed his smile non-stop.

Get it together, Ruth!

When she finally reached the infirmary, she stopped at the door, taking a deep breath to gain some composure. Within seconds of opening the heavy door, the base’s head surgeon approached her, wiping his hands with a rag.

“Hello,” he greeted. “I’m Captain Emory Kinder, and I’m assuming you’re one of the flight nurses who landed earlier?”

Ruth wore her signature toothy grin and nodded. “Yes, sir. Ruth Morgan. My other half is visiting with her brother as we speak.”

“Brother?”

“Yep, Hugh Armstrong,” she replied, her smile widening as his face lit up.

“Charlie! Oh yeah, I know him. He’s been in here for a few hangovers after a rowdy night in Dickleburgh.”

“Really?” Ruth chuckled, picturing the confident young man drunk as a skunk.

“Oh yeah. We love him though. He’s a good one for sure.”

A patient called out to him, and with a nod, he was off, helping the man. Ruth busied herself however she could, bringing airmen water, re-wrapping their bandages, and pretty much anything that would get her mind off the man from earlier. She was inspecting a man’s arm wound when the creaking of the door opening filled the building. Paying it no mind, she kept working, noting how the tissue was already healing.

“It looks good, Sergeant. You should be back in the air soon,” she said quietly.

His wide-eyed morphine-induced expression looked pitiful, but he managed to mumble out a, “Thank you, ma’am.”

Ruth gathered her supplies and stood to her feet, throwing away the bloody bandages when Emory's voice rang through the air.

“Speaking of rowdy nights in Dickleburgh...Major, what can I do for ya? Is that shoulder giving you problems again?”

“No, Doc,” the newcomer began, his deep voice breaking the relative quiet. “The shoulder’s fine. I just wanted to, you know, come see the boy-men.”

When she turned toward them and saw the white jacket, the roll of bandages fell from her grasp and hit the floor with a thud, rolling a few feet away to the man’s feet. The heat returned to her cheeks in a rush, and her eyes froze on the bandages for a moment, silently cursing the little white bundle. She watched in horror as the man slowly bent down and picked it up, walking toward her as he threw it up in the air and caught it.

“I think this yours,” he said, one side of his lips quirking up into a smirk as he held it out to her.

Raising her eyes from the bandage to his eyes, she prayed her voice would stay steady. “Thank you, sir.”

She took the bandage and tried to remain calm, her free hand raising to run her fingers over the cool metal of her locket.

“John. Major John Egan,” he introduced himself, extending his hand to her. “But you can call me Bucky.”

Ruth’s brows furrowed in confusion as she took his much larger hand and shook it gently. It was surprisingly soft compared to the men she’d treated from the lines. “Bucky? It’s there another-”

“Yeah,” John chuckled and slowly released her hand, shoving his in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “We call Cleven Buck, too. He hates it, but he deals with it.”

Grimacing playfully, she decided to go out on a limb despite her pounding heart. “Well, I, um, don’t know if I’ll be able to remember who’s who.”

“Oh no,” John tutted, his eyebrows raised and a wide-mouthed smile painting his lips. “We can’t have that. You can call me John, Johnny, whatever you want, doll, but I don’t think you’re going to have a hard time remembering my name.”

“And why would that be, Johnny?”

“Because you’ll see it at the bottom of each letter you’ll get from me.”

The blonde froze, dropping her necklace in disbelief as she swallowed thickly.

‘There is no way he just said that,’ her mind repeated. ‘There is no way he just said that.”

Pushing through her reserved personality and the tingling sensation swirling in her stomach, she decided to take a page from Hope’s book.

“What makes you think I’d let you write me, hotshot?”

Her mind went haywire. ‘‘Why did I just say that? I’m never taking Hope’s advice again. This is too stressful.’

For the first time in their interaction, his confident bravado seemed to fade and he didn’t quite know what to say. Perhaps he was always used to women giving in to his advances easily, but Ruth was not just another woman begging to be wooed. Johnny stood before her with furrowed brows, his upper lip sticking out slightly. He pushed back his jacket and placed his hands on his hips, his head ducking to the floor.

“Because I’d like to get to know you,” he replied earnestly, taking off his cap. “You’re gorgeous, and I would like to write you, Ruth.“

That was the last thing she expected.

In that moment, Ruth Morgan had a decision to make. Was she going to reject the airman or give him a chance? She knew she was attracted to him and there was chemistry there, but was she willing to put herself out there? The timid parts of her personality screamed at her to tell him no, but the parts that Hope had influenced were urging her to accept his offer. In the end, Ruth already liked Johnny, and she saw the sincerity in his statement as a deciding factor in the matter.

“Alright, you can write to me,” she answered quietly, pushing her hair behind her ear.

John watched as she walked to the infirmary desk and got a sheet of paper, scribbling down what he expected to be her address. He took in her features, just like he had earlier. Starting at her light blonde hair, his gaze traveled down her face to her familiar blue eyes, down her adorable nose, to her lips, which were pursed slightly as she concentrated on writing down her information. She was stunning, and Johnny knew that he wanted to see her again just from their short conversation.

Approaching him again, she held up a slip of paper, a toothy grin on her lips. “This is sensitive information, Major. It better not end up in enemy hands, and that includes your fellow airmen.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded once before fake saluting her, unable to keep his excitement inside. “Mission understood.”

“But just to be safe, I’m going to hold onto it for a little bit.” she leaned a little closer to him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Just in case I, you know, change my mind.”

John grinned down at her and yet again raised his eyebrows as he nodded. Ruth noticed he did that a lot. “I’ll be on my best behavior, scout’s honor.”

Sliding the slip into her pocket, she started her nursing tasks once again, looking at him over her shoulder. “So, you were in the Boy Scouts?”

“No,” he chuckled, putting back on his cap as he moved next to Ruth to help. “I wasn’t, but Buck was. He ended up being an Eagle Scout before he aged out. One of the best in Wyoming, he says, but I don't buy it.”

He stood a good 5 or so inches above her, so his chin was at her eye level. In the small area at the nursing station, his shoulder was just barely pressed against hers as they both worked to roll bandages, and Ruth could feel the warmth radiating from his touch.

“It seems like you know each other pretty well,” she stated, looking up at him briefly.

His concentration remained on the bandage in his hands as he spoke. “Yeah. He’s my best friend.”

“How long have you known each other?” She asked, reaching up to mess with her necklace.

“We both joined up in ‘40 and were roommates in basic. Been together ever since.”

“That reminds me of Hope and I, although we haven’t known each other for nearly that long.”

John placed the finished bandage in the basket and turned to face her, leaning a hip against the counter as his earnest expression returned. “War makes people closer. Makes ‘em realize who’s important. What’s important.”

The blonde mirrored his stance, taking in his words. He was right. War did have a way of bringing people together. She gazed up at him with a shared understanding of how something as terrible as the war had brought out the best and worst in people, as well as brought people into their lives for the better. The pair’s eyes remained locked for a few moments, both realizing that perhaps there was something deeper than the flirting between them. His warm eyes seemed to search hers, and to her surprise, she didn’t feel nervous in that moment. Johnny’s gaze was like a warm blanket enveloping all of her senses to the point that all she could see was him.

“I feel the same way,” Ruth finally answered, fixing a stray curl that had fallen into her eyes.

Half of his lips curled up in a grin and he took a step toward her. “Ruth, I-”

The loud opening of the door jolted them from the moment, sending both their heads in the direction of the entrance. There stood an out-of-breath Frank, whose face was bright red and shimmering with sweat.

“Ruth! Do you know how long I’ve been looking for ya?” He cried, approaching them quickly.

Unsure of the man’s intentions, Johnny straightened and moved just barely in front of her, holding out a hand towards Frank. “Woah, buddy.”

Although it was an endearing effort, she couldn’t hold in a loud giggle at Frank’s offended expression that followed. “No, Johnny,” she laughed, gently lowering his hand. “This is our pilot, Frank. Frank, this is Major John Egan. What is it?”

The pilot’s eyes flicked between Ruth and Johnny for a few seconds before he sighed. “I’ve filled the Angel up and it’s time to go. Find Hope and meet me back at the plane.”

Just like that, he was out the door again, probably to get ready for takeoff. Ruth’s heart sank at the realization that she was having to leave. It seemed he also came to the same conclusion as he turned toward her and sighed.

“Looks like you’ve gotta go,” he said softly, slightly tilting his head to the side as he peered down at her.

The nurse looked at the door, then lowered her gaze to her feet. “It sure does.”

She almost gasped in surprise when something warm grasped her hand gently. Her eyes shot up to John’s hand that held delicately held hers. The contact sent a tingle up her arm and seemingly straight to her mind, muddying her thoughts.

“I'd like to see you again,” he murmured where only she could hear.

This quieter, softer version of him was unknown to Ruth, but she knew instantly that she liked the duality of Johnny.

The blush she’d resisted finally won and dusted her cheeks as she looked up at him. “I’d like that, too.”

John softly tugged her hand closer and bridged the distance between them slowly, his entrancing eyes flicking between her eyes and lips. Ruth could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she stood on her toes to meet him. She felt his warm breath on her face, and her eyes fluttered closed, anticipating the kiss. But before their lips could meet, the door opened again, and Frank called out to her.

“Ruth, come on! You can neck the Major later!”

The door quickly creaked closed.

Heat rushed to Ruth’s face, and she reluctantly pulled back from Johnny, setting her heels back on the ground. Johnny awkwardly stood to his full height, glaring at the door where Frank stood moments before.

“I’ll see you next time, Johnny,” Ruth smiled bashfully, gently squeezing his hand once before dropping it. She walked backward to the door, praying she wouldn’t trip.

Johnny let out a huff of air as the biggest smile grew on his face. “So there will be a next time?”

She simply grinned at him, shrugging her shoulders when she turned to open the door. With one last look over her shoulder, she closed the door behind her.

The infirmary was silent for a few seconds, and then the patients erupted in hollers, cheers, and whistles.

“Way to go, Bucky!”

“Leave some for the rest of us, Major!”

Amid their uproar, John remembered a crucial detail: She hadn’t given him her address! He took off toward the door, reaching for the handle when it creaked open, revealing a laughing Ruth on the other side. She held out the slip to him.

“I think you behaved well enough, Major.”

“Told you,” he chimed, his eyebrows raising. “Scout’s honor.”

John took the paper from her outstretched hand and watched as she left once again. When the door had slammed shut behind her, he read the note to himself with a wide smile.

Hotshot,

You can write me at the Grove, Berkshire, Hut 4. I like you, so try not to get shot down before I can return your letter, and I’ll do the same.

Safe Flying,

Ruth Morgan

Johnny shot his hand with the paper into the air, and the men cheered once again. Ruth, on the other hand, was in disbelief of what had just transpired. She had almost kissed him! She wanted to kiss him! Running her hands through her hair, she tried to focus on the task at hand: finding Hope.

Ruth ran around the base like a chicken with her head cut off looking for the woman, and was about to give up when she saw her sitting in a jeep with Buck in the distance.

“HOPE! There you are, I've been looking everywhere. Frank fueled up the plane. We have to go,” Ruth huffed, clearly out of breath from running, but her flushed cheeks, Hope thought, told a different story.

“Okay, I'll be over in five minutes,” Hope promised, but Ruth didn't look convinced.

“Your five minutes or an actual five minutes?” She asked, and the glare Hope sent her way had Ruth turning around and heading back in the direction she’d come.

“Okay, but I'll be timing you,” she yelled over her shoulder.

When Ruth looked back to see Hope kissing Buck on the cheek, it occurred to her that maybe there were more trips to Thorpe Abbotts in the cards for both of them.

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