john logan has a clingy, overdramatic girlfriend . ♡
“hi baby,” logan mutters softly when he enters his room, two steaming mugs of tea in hand. his hair is a little messy from the nap you two just took, but he looks so warm, his upper body the perfect balance between soft and protective. “you’re awake.”
“hm.” is all you let out, turning on your side, away from logan. you’re perfectly comfortable under the sheets, your head dipping into the soft feathers of your boyfriend’s pillow.
you were sleeping so soundly, but the absence of your boyfriend’s warm arms around you stirred you awake. why the hell would he leave you alone? you felt so relaxed with his hands lightly caressing your stomach as you slept.
however, being a brat to logan has no effect on him at all. he’s got inexplicable amounts of love for you, beyond understanding. he wouldn’t be able to take your brattiness to heart.
“got us some tea,” he places both mugs on his nightstand before slipping under the duvet. “your favourite.”
he notices the cute scowl on your face when he bows over your head to kiss your forehead. you have a tendency for dramatics when you just woke up from a nap. “what’s wrong, baby?”
you turn your face toward logan, the little dip in your forehead, the corners of your mouth slightly turned down. he knows exactly that a little softness and sweetness can turn your frown upside down.
“why did you leave me alone?” you grumble out while pressing your face into his side, the fresh laundry-smell wafting off of his hoodie and filling your nostrils. “don’t like it when you leave.”
your soft face glued to him makes logan melt. “d’awhh,” he laughs, soothingly carding his fingers through your hair. “i’m sorry, my baby. didn’t mean to upset you.”
“i mean— do you even love me?”
logan freezes. “oh honey, don’t say those things,” he says, pulling your body in his hold as he readjusts the duvet over your bodies. “don’t break my heart.”
you cast your eyes down. partly out of embarrassment, partly because you get jittery with logan so close to you. “you know i love you, baby.” logan says softly.
he kisses your lips once. he waits patiently until you're able to look at him, cheek resting in the column of his neck as you make yourself comfortable in his warm embrace.
“now, will you drink your tea with me?”
you do. you two end up watching your tv series in bed with burning fingertips. you lean against logan’s bicep as you sip your hot drink, sleep ready to take you under again.
summary: in which a drunk y/n arrives home after a night out and logan is forced to endure the torture of helping her take off her jewellery and dress while she looks far too pretty, far too affectionate, and far too tempting for his own sanity - only for him to prove, once again, that he’ll always put taking care of her before anything else.
pairing: john logan x fem!reader
note: my first fic request!! oh how i love sweet john logan. i hope you enjoy <3
ꪆৎ
you were standing in front of the bathroom mirror when logan found you.
well-
“standing” was generous.
you were leaning heavily against the marble counter in your tiny satin dress, one bare shoulder pressed lazily against the mirror while you squinted furiously at your own reflection with the sort of concentration only drunk people seemed to possess.
your fingers fumbled uselessly with the tiny clasp of your necklace for what was probably the sixth time in the last minute.
“stupid fucking-”
your tongue poked slightly against the inside of your cheek as you tried again, brows pinching together in frustration before the delicate chain slipped straight through your fingers once more.
you groaned dramatically.
the sound made logan bite back a laugh from the bathroom doorway.
he’d been halfway through pulling off his hoodie when he noticed the bedroom light still on beneath the cracked bathroom door, and now he was completely frozen there instead, broad shoulder leaning against the frame while he took you in properly for the first time tonight.
and christ.
the sight of you nearly knocked the air straight from his lungs.
your makeup was slightly smudged beneath your eyes from hours of dancing and laughing, lips glossy and swollen from sugary cocktails, cheeks warm and flushed from the cold night air outside.
your hair was messy too.
not ruined.
just soft around the edges now, like you’d spent the entire night running your hands through it absentmindedly.
and the dress-
fuck.
the tiny satin dress hung off your body in a way that felt genuinely unfair.
the thin straps slipped low against your shoulders every few seconds, exposing warm skin logan knew too well, while the silky material clung to every curve of your body like it had been specifically designed to test his self-control.
especially paired with the sleepy frustration written all over your face.
“need help there, baby?” he asked finally, voice rougher than intended.
you looked over immediately at the sound of him.
and the second your eyes landed on him, your entire expression softened.
“logan.”
just his name.
but the way you said it, warm, relieved, slightly drunk, made something tighten painfully in his chest.
you turned back toward the mirror with a dramatic sigh, lifting the necklace helplessly.
“it won’t come off,” you informed him accusingly. “i think it’s broken.”
logan huffed out a quiet laugh before pushing himself away from the doorway and walking toward you slowly.
“yeah?” he murmured. “gimme a second.”
the second he stepped behind you, his hands settled instinctively against your hips.
firm.
warm.
steadying.
and you immediately relaxed back against him like it was muscle memory.
that alone almost ruined him, because it happened so naturally.
like your body knew his before your brain even caught up.
logan lowered his head slightly, eyes focusing on the tiny clasp resting at the back of your neck while your hands came to rest lazily over his forearms.
he could smell your perfume this close.
sweet and expensive and familiar enough now that it clung permanently to the hoodies tossed around his room. his fingers brushed lightly against the warm skin at the nape of your neck while he carefully worked at the chain.
you shivered instantly.
logan’s eyes flickered upward toward yours through the mirror.
“cold?”
you shook your head softly. “your hands are just cold.”
“sorry, baby.”
“don’t be.”
your voice came out quieter this time.
sleepier.
softer.
logan swallowed hard. there was something dangerously intimate about moments like this. not the big dramatic ones, not parties or kisses or sex.
this.
standing half-drunk in his bathroom at two in the morning while he carefully untangled your jewellery for you.
it was domestic, comfortable.
a moment that was just yours.
finally, the clasp loosened beneath his fingers.
“got it.”
you let out a tiny victorious hum as logan carefully slid the necklace away from your skin before placing it gently beside the sink.
“there.”
you smiled at him through the mirror immediately.
god, that smile.
sleepy and warm and entirely for him.
“thank you.”
logan’s mouth twitched upward without him meaning it to.
“you got any more jewellery that’s personally attacking you tonight?”
you held your wrist up toward him sadly.
“bracelet.”
he barked out a quiet laugh under his breath before reaching for your hand. his fingers engulfed your wrist completely as he turned it carefully beneath the bathroom light, eyes narrowing in concentration at the tiny clasp.
his large hockey-player hands looked almost ridiculous against something so delicate.
but he was still careful.
you watched him openly now through half-lidded eyes while he concentrated, tongue dragging briefly across his lower lip the way it always did when he focused too hard on something.
your stomach tightened immediately.
because john logan genuinely didn’t understand the effect he had on you half the time. he didn’t realise that small things like this destroyed you more than anything else ever could.
the way his brows furrowed slightly, the warmth of his hands, the quiet patience in every movement of his. the fact that he treated you gently even when you were being objectively annoying.
“you’re staring,” he murmured without looking up.
your lips curved lazily.
“can you blame me?”
his mouth twitched again. “you’re drunk.”
“mhm.”
“and trouble.”
you grinned sleepily.
“you love me.”
logan finally slipped the bracelet free before setting it carefully beside the necklace, both hands settling automatically against your waist afterward like he physically couldn’t help himself.
then his eyes lifted fully to yours in the mirror and the entire mood shifted.
because the second he really looked at you, at your flushed cheeks, heavy-lidded eyes, glossy lips, something in his expression darkened.
the straps of your dress had slipped lower along your shoulders while you leaned against him, the thin satin clinging softly to your skin, and logan’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly against your waist as his gaze dragged slowly over you. you noticed immediately and your expression softened into something teasing.
“hi.”
“don’t,” he warned quietly.
“don’t what?”
“look at me like that.”
you turned slowly in his arms then until you were facing him fully, fingertips sliding lightly up the front of his t-shirt. the thin cotton stretched warm and soft beneath your hands.
“like what?”
logan exhaled slowly through his nose.
because fuck.
you had absolutely no idea what you looked like right now.
or maybe you did.
your fingers curled lightly against his chest before drifting lower, smoothing absentmindedly over the hard planes of his stomach beneath the fabric. logan’s hands tightened instinctively at your waist.
“y/n,” he said carefully, almost in warning.
“mhm?”
“stop playin’ games with me.”
you smiled innocently.
“i’m not playing games.”
“bullshit.”
a soft laugh escaped you and the sound alone nearly did him in.
logan’s eyes dropped briefly toward your mouth before dragging themselves upward again like it physically pained him to do it.
then your fingers found the hem of his shirt once more and logan nearly lost his fucking mind.
“okay,” he muttered immediately, catching your wrist gently before you could keep going.
“absolutely not.”
you tried not to smile.
“what?”
“you know what.”
instead of answering, you stepped closer until your bodies pressed together fully. logan’s jaw clenched instantly.
because suddenly he could feel all of you.
the satin shifting softly against his sweatpants, the warmth of your thighs brushing his, the curve of your waist beneath his palms, especially when the neckline of the dress dipped lower from the movement.
and especially when he caught the first glimpse of black lace beneath the satin.
fuck.
his eyes flickered downward for half a second before immediately dragging back up to your face.
you caught it.
of course you did.
your smile softened then, less teasing this time, more wanting.
“logan,” you whispered quietly.
and that nearly killed him more than anything else had tonight, because suddenly you weren’t just messing with him anymore.
you were looking at him like you wanted him.
really wanted him.
and god, he wanted you too.
so fucking badly.
his hand slid carefully upward along your spine before stopping at the zipper resting against the small of your back.
“can i?” he asked softly.
you nodded immediately.
logan’s fingers curled lightly around the zipper before slowly dragging it downward. the sound filled the quiet bathroom. the dress loosened inch by inch beneath his hands.
and logan’s breathing visibly slowed.
because beneath the satin was soft black lace stretched against warm skin and enough exposed shoulder to completely derail every coherent thought left in his brain.
the straps slipped lower down your arms as the dress loosened, exposing more skin with every passing second. you leaned forward slightly until your forehead rested against the centre of his chest, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt.
logan shut his eyes briefly.
“jesus christ.”
you laughed quietly against him, the sound warm and muffled.
“that bad?”
“baby,” he muttered, voice rough now. “you gotta stop asking questions you already know the answer to.”
your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of his shirt slightly then, nails brushing warm skin along his stomach.
logan physically inhaled sharply, every muscle in his body tensing immediately. then he caught your hand gently before you could keep going.
not roughly.
just steady.
careful.
grounding.
his forehead dropped against yours while his fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist.
y/n,” he said quietly. “you know i want you.”
your teasing faltered slightly at the sincerity in his voice.
logan’s hand stayed warm against your waist, fingers flexing faintly like he was physically restraining himself from pulling you even closer.
“but you’ve been drinking” he murmured softly.
“i know.”
“and i know you’re okay,” he continued quietly, thumb brushing slowly across your cheek.
“but you've had enough that i'm not gonna take advantage of it.”
his forehead rested lightly against yours as he exhaled shakily.
“trust me,” he muttered softly, almost sounding frustrated with himself.
“this is killing me.”
despite everything, a small smile pulled at your lips.
“yeah?”
his eyes flickered down toward your mouth for a split second before forcing themselves back up again.
“yeah” he said hoarsely.
“you have absolutely no idea.”
your chest tightened painfully at the sincerity in his voice.
because even now, even with his breathing uneven. even with his hands gripping your waist hard enough to betray exactly how badly he wanted you, logan was still making sure you felt safe first.
still making sure you were okay.
still putting you before himself.
you looked up at him quietly for a long second before your expression softened completely. a warm and achingly fond look settled across your features.
“you’re really good to me.”
logan’s entire face gentled instantly at that. his thumb brushed lightly beneath your jaw before he leaned down enough for his forehead to rest properly against yours.
Warnings: alcohol use, drinking to cope, anxiety, angst
Summary: You've been falling apart quietly for three weeks and you're very good at making sure nobody notices, especially your boyfriend Garrett. You're less good at it after four drinks and one overheard conversation you were never supposed to hear.
Author's Note: Thx for all the love on my first Garrett fic! I'm doing an OC rewatch rn and just felt like I needed to get this one off my chest. I <3 bestie Dean fr.
Eight months in and you still hadn't figured out what to do with being someone's favorite thing.
Garrett wasn't subtle about it. That was the thing, he had absolutely no interest in being subtle about it. He'd find you across a dining hall full of people and his whole face would do something embarrassing. He'd mention you to his teammates with the casual frequency of someone who didn't realize he was doing it, which, according to Dean, he wasn't. He'd show up at your dorm with soup when you were sick, uninvited, unashamed, completely certain he was welcome. He was always welcome. That was the other thing.
Eight months. Long enough that his hoodie had more or less permanently become part of your wardrobe. Long enough that you knew exactly which toothpaste brand he preferred, and that he took his coffee wrong, and that he looked up at the stands exactly once per game - same moment every time, right after warm-ups - just to find you.
You were, by every reasonable metric, fine. Good, even. Happy.
You were also, quietly and without telling anyone, coming apart at the seams.
It hadn't started with anything dramatic. That was the part that made it hard to explain. There was no single thing to point to, no moment where it all went wrong. Just a bad exam grade, then another. Readings piling up in two classes, then three. A cold that moved into your chest three weeks ago and apparently liked it there, the kind of tired that sleep didn't touch.
You'd cancelled plans with Garrett twice. Both times he'd said it's okay, babe, seriously, without missing a beat, and both times something in you had gone slightly sideways, because of course he had. Of course he was fine about it. He was always fine about it, which somehow made it worse, because it meant he was noticing, and adjusting around you, and that meant you were someone who needed adjusting around.
He'd started checking in more. Texts a little more often. Soup you hadn't asked for, dropped off with a knock and a smile like it was nothing.
It was nothing. That was the problem. To him it was nothing, and to you it was accumulating into something you didn't have a word for yet.
Too much, something in the back of your head had started saying. Quietly at first. Then less quietly. You're too much right now.
You were good at ignoring things. You'd been ignoring this for three weeks. You were, it turned out, not as good at it as you'd thought.
The party was Garrett's idea. Well, it was everyone's idea. Briar had won the game 4-1, and the hockey house was the kind of loud that rattled inside your skull pleasantly, all bass and laughter and the clatter of the boys being celebratory and stupid. The living room smelled like beer and Axe and the particular chaos of hockey players who were very pleased with themselves.
You'd smiled through most of it. You were good at that, too.
Garrett had kept you close the whole first hour, arm slung around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple every time someone stopped to talk to him, like punctuation. Hannah had found you at some point and the two of you had ended up in the kitchen with drinks you weren't really finishing, talking about nothing, which was nice.
But Garrett had gotten pulled away - something about Dean needing him, something about the highlight reel someone had pulled up on the TV - and you'd drifted. Which was fine. You were fine.
You'd ended up on the back porch without fully meaning to.
The night air was cold as you leaned against the railing, tipped your head back, and breathed.
You're okay. You're fine. You're at a party celebrating your boyfriend's win and everything is fine.
You heard them before you saw them. Two girls tucked into the corner of the porch, half-hidden by the shadows. You hadn't noticed them when you came out.
You recognized one of them.
Kendall. You'd heard the name in the careful, neutral way girls mentioned names when they meant something. She and Garrett had hooked up before. Before you. It wasn't a big deal. You knew it wasn't a big deal.
You turned slightly away, meaning to go back inside, meaning to just not be here for whatever this was.
But her voice carried.
"-no, I just mean, look at her. She's been off all night."
A murmur from the other girl. You went very still.
"I'm not being mean, I'm just - Garrett has a lot going on. He's got scouts looking at him, he's got finals coming up, and now he's got-" a pause, something that wasn't quite a laugh, "-one more thing to manage."
One more thing to manage.
The words landed somewhere below your sternum and just sat there.
"She seems kind of high maintenance," Kendall continued, quieter now. "I heard she's been sick, like, for weeks, and he's been running over there constantly. He doesn't have time for that. He doesn't have time for someone like- I mean, it's Garrett Graham. He could have-"
You stopped hearing the rest.
Not because they stopped talking, you just stopped being able to take anything in. The world narrowed down to the railing under your hands and the cold air in your lungs and the feeling of something fracturing very quietly behind your eyes.
One more thing to manage.
High maintenance.
He doesn't have time for someone like-
You turned around and went inside.
You went for the kitchen.
There was a handle of something on the counter - vodka, cheap, the kind that came in a plastic bottle - and you poured it into whatever cup was closest without really looking at what was already in it. You drank it faster than you should have. Poured another.
This was not something you did. You were not, by nature, a drink-until-it-goes-away person. You'd watched enough people use that particular coping mechanism to know better. You knew better.
You poured a third.
The thing was, and you understood this even as you were doing it, which somehow made it worse, that the words were just sitting there. One more thing to manage. Right in the center of your chest, perfectly placed, like Kendall had known exactly where to aim. And you needed them to move. You needed them to blur, or soften, or stop feeling so much like the thing you'd already been thinking at three in the morning for the past three weeks.
So you drank.
Hannah found you twenty minutes later, laughing too loudly at something a guy from the lacrosse team had said. She gave you a look, the kind that meant how many is that, and you smiled wide enough that she let it go. Or seemed to. You slipped away before she could ask a follow-up question.
The party had taken on that particular underwater quality that meant the alcohol was working. The edges of everything softened. The bass felt further away. You moved through the living room with the careful precision of someone who knew they were drunk and was trying very hard not to show it, which probably meant you were showing it completely.
Garrett was somewhere in this room. You could feel it the way you always could, that low awareness, like a compass needle swinging north. Normally you'd find him without thinking.
Tonight you turned the other direction.
You grabbed someone's abandoned drink off the end table. You didn't know whose, you didn't care, which was so unlike you that some distant sober part of your brain flinched, and made your way to the other side of the room. Someone pulled you into a conversation about something. You nodded. You laughed when they laughed. You were very good at performing fine, even now, even like this.
But Garrett kept appearing at the edges of things. You'd see his shoulder, the back of his head, catch a flash of his smile across the room, and something in your chest would do that terrible thing it always did.
So you kept moving.
You ended up in the hallway. Then near the stairs. Then, without fully deciding to, on the stairs themselves, sitting halfway up with your cup.
You sat for a while.
The alcohol had moved past the useful stage and into something messier, the kind of drunk where everything felt slightly too large and slightly too true at the same time. Your eyes were doing something embarrassing. You pressed the back of your wrist to them, hard.
You're fine. You're not going to do this here.
You stood up. Gripped the railing. Made it to the top of the stairs on the second try.
The upstairs hallway was dark enough that it felt like breathing room. You leaned against the wall and closed your eyes for a second, just long enough to get your legs back under you. Your dorm key was in your jacket pocket. Your jacket was downstairs. You needed to find it and leave before Garrett realized you'd been avoiding him for an hour, because if he looked at you right now with that face - the one he made when he was worried - you were going to fall apart in the middle of his own party, and you would not do that to him, you refused to do that to him tonight...
You pushed off the wall.
Misjudged the distance to the opposite side of the hallway by about four inches.
The door swung open before you could knock properly, or maybe you knocked wrong, and suddenly there was light and Dean Di Laurentis was right there, some girl half visible behind him, and all three of you stared at each other.
"Bathroom," you said, except it came out slightly sideways.
Dean blinked. Looked at you. Looked at the cup in your hand, mostly empty. Looked back at your face.
Something shifted in his expression, fast and uncharacteristically serious.
"Babe." Not to you. He was already half-turning to the girl, his voice dropped low. "I need a minute."
"You're kidding-"
"I'm really not." A beat. Something in his tone that left no room for argument. "Please."
The girl left in the precise way people left when they were furious and had decided to be graceful about it anyway. You watched her go down the hallway and felt vaguely guilty about it.
Dean stepped back from the doorway. "Get in here."
"I don't need-"
"You just walked into my door."
"I knocked."
"With your face, a little bit." He looked at you levelly. "Get in here."
You got in there.
He closed the door. The noise from downstairs dropped to a murmur.
"How much have you had to drink?"
"That's a weird opener."
"It's a normal question for someone who just almost fell through my door." He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, "How much."
You thought about lying. Decided it wasn't worth the effort. "Enough."
"Enough," he repeated, in the tone of someone doing math. His eyes moved over you, assessing. Quick and thorough the way athletes were sometimes, used to reading situations fast. "You don't drink like this."
"People drink at parties."
"Not you. Not like-" he gestured vaguely at the cup still in your hand, "-whatever this is." A pause. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened. I'm fine."
"Okay."
You stared at him. He stared back. He did not appear to be in any rush whatsoever.
You hated that. You hated the waiting.
"I overheard something," you said, and the words came out a little slurred at the edges. "On the porch. Kendall - you know who that is?"
Something crossed his face. "Yeah. I know who that is."
"She was talking about me." The cup in your hand felt very heavy suddenly. You set it down on the nearest surface. "She said I was one more thing Garrett had to manage." The words tasted exactly as bad coming out as they had going in. Worse, maybe, because you were saying them out loud now, making them real. "That I was high maintenance. That he didn't have time for someone like me."
Dean was quiet for exactly two seconds.
"She said that."
"She's not wrong, that's the thing." You laughed, and it came out wrong, too bright and too brittle. "I've been sick for like three weeks, and stressed, and he keeps showing up for it, and I keep letting him, and he has scouts and he has finals and I just-" You stopped. The room was doing something slightly unsteady. You pressed your fingertips to the dresser behind you. "I just didn't want to feel it. I didn't want to stand there in the middle of his party and feel like that, so I-" You gestured at nothing. At the cup. At yourself.
"So you drank a stranger's leftovers."
"I don't know whose cup it was."
"Yeah, that's the part I'm stuck on." Dean pushed off the wall and grabbed the desk chair, set it down in front of you, and sat in it backwards, arms folded over the top, looking up at you with an expression that was not quite his usual one. "Sit down before you fall down."
"I'm not going to fall-"
"You're leaning."
You looked down. You were, in fact, leaning slightly. You sat on the edge of his bed.
Dean watched you with the particular patience of someone who had decided they weren't going anywhere.
"She's not-" You exhaled, stared at your hands. "She's not some villain. She just said the thing I've already been thinking. And I couldn't-" Your throat tightened. "I couldn't stand there and keep smiling, so I thought if I just-"
"Drank enough that it blurred out?"
"I wasn't going to phrase it like that."
"But yeah?"
A beat.
"Yeah," you said, very quietly.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck. Looked at the ceiling. Then back at you, and something in his face shifted into something more serious, more deliberate, the version of him he mostly kept underneath all the noise he usually made.
"Can I tell you something without you getting weird about it?"
You made a helpless gesture.
"Garrett talked about you at practice last week," he said. "Full cringe, by the way, I'm doing you a public service by telling you this. Tucker asked how you were doing - just like, making conversation - and Garrett stopped mid-drill to answer. Like, stopped skating. Coach blew the whistle. Garrett didn't even flinch, just full-on answeredTucker like they were at brunch." He paused. "It was genuinely awful. The guys made fun of him for four days."
You stared at him.
"He said - and I am going to say this exactly once and then never again - that being with you was the first time in his life that coming home from a game felt better than the game itself." Dean's expression was the one people made when they'd eaten something sour. "Verbatim. He said that. To the whole team. In the locker room. While wearing his pads."
Your eyes were burning again, for a completely different reason.
"He talks about you like-" Dean exhaled through his nose. "Look, I've lived with that guy for three years. I have never, not once, seen him like this. And I mean the whole team. We all, okay, this is going to sound really weird-"
"Just say it."
"We all kind of think of you as ours too. Like, you're around all the time, and you're funny, and you ate nachos with us during the game and didn't complain about the TV volume once-" A pause. "That matters more than you think."
A noise came out of you that was almost a laugh. Wasn't quite.
"Kendall doesn't know what she's talking about," Dean said, and his voice had gone flat again. "She's not a bad person, she's just... she wanted something she didn't get, and that makes people say stupid things. It doesn't make the stupid things true."
Your eyes burned. You pressed the heel of your hand against one of them, hard, like you could physically hold it back, and for a second you almost managed it. Then your breath hitched and you didn't.
You hated it. You hated this, you hated that you were sitting in Dean Di Laurentis' room at your boyfriend's party with someone else's alcohol in your bloodstream, falling apart. This was not you. This was so profoundly, embarrassingly not you - and yet here you were, doing it anyway.
"I hate this," you said, rough.
"The crying or the drinking?"
"Both." You dragged your wrist across your face. "I don't do this. Either of this. I keep it together, and I've been keeping it together for weeks, and then one person says one thing and I'm-" You gestured at yourself. At the whole situation. The cup on his dresser. Your face. "This."
"You can't hold it together forever and then wonder why it comes out somewhere inconvenient." Dean's voice was even. "That's not strength. That's just pressure building."
You looked at him.
"Real talk," he said. "You've been running on empty, you've been pretending you're fine, and tonight cracked it open. And instead of letting yourself feel it, you drank half a mystery cup and were about to walk home alone in the cold." He raised an eyebrow. "Which we are going to circle back to."
"I wasn't going to walk home."
"You were absolutely going to walk home."
You didn't answer.
"Also," he said, and the sarcasm slid back in like he genuinely couldn't help it, "if you tell anyone I said any of this, I will deny it completely. I have a reputation and I'd like to keep it."
A sound came out of you that was almost a laugh. Wasn't quite. But almost.
"Drink some water," he said, standing, already moving to the mini fridge in the corner. He tossed you a bottle without looking. "And hey-"
You looked up.
"He's been looking for you for twenty minutes. Downstairs, increasingly frantic. You should talk to him."
You found Garrett's room because it was the only one with the light on.
The door was cracked. You pushed it open and stood in the doorway for a second, holding onto the frame slightly. The water Dean had given you was helping. A little. The edges of things were still slightly wrong.
You made it to the bed. Sat down. Put your face in your hands.
You heard him on the stairs before the door opened - that particular weight and rhythm, two at a time the way he always took them. And then Garrett was there, filling the doorway, and he stopped.
Just for a second.
Long enough for you to see it, the relief flooding in so fast it almost looked like something else. And underneath it, the residue of the twenty minutes before. He'd been worried. Not panicked, not Garrett, but worried. You could see it in the set of his jaw, the way he exhaled.
Then his eyes moved over you and his expression shifted into something different.
"Hey," he said carefully. "How much did you drink?"
You laughed, and it came out wrong. "Dean already asked me that."
"Dean texted me that you'd had a lot and that you were upset and to be..." he paused, "gentle. His word."
"Dean used the word gentle?"
"I was also surprised." He crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of you, and it was such a Garrett thing to do - not sitting beside you, not keeping distance, just immediately down to your level, hands finding yours - that your throat tightened all over again. "Look at me."
You did.
He looked back, and he didn't rush it. Just looked at you the way he sometimes did when he thought you weren't paying attention. His thumb rubbed circles on your knuckles.
"I'm okay," you said. Force of habit.
"I know you're not." Not a judgment, just a fact. "Talk to me."
Your jaw worked. "I don't want to..." The words snagged. "I don't want to be something you have to manage, Garrett."
He went very still.
"I heard something tonight." Your voice came out thinner than you wanted, and you couldn't tell anymore how much of it was the alcohol and how much was just you: exhausted, hollowed out, finally out of room to hold it. "Someone saying I was... that I'm a lot right now. That you're running yourself into the ground for me, and you don't have time for someone like..." You stopped. "I've been thinking it for weeks. She just said it out loud."
"Who."
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
"Garrett." You shook your head, and the room moved slightly with it. "That's not the point. The point is that I believed it. That I heard it and something in me just - yes, obviously, correct. And I hated that. So instead of finding you and telling you I was upset like a normal person, I-" You gestured vaguely at yourself. At the state of you. "This."
He looked at you for a long moment.
"You've been carrying this for weeks," he said. Not a question.
"I didn't want to make it your problem."
Something crossed his face. "You are not a problem."
"You have scouts. You have finals. You've been coming to my dorm every other day with food I didn't ask for-"
"Because I wanted to."
"-and I keep letting you, and I feel like I'm taking something, like I'm-"
"Stop." His hands tightened around yours. "Listen to me. I come over because I want to be there. I text you because I want to know how you are. That's not- it's not labor, it's not obligation, it's not me managing anything. It's me." He exhaled slowly. "You're it for me. You know that."
"You can't just say that."
"I say it constantly. The guys are sick of hearing it."
"Dean told me about the locker room thing."
"Of course he did." No heat in it. Just resignation, and something softer underneath. "It was embarrassing. I meant every word."
You looked at him, and your eyes were burning again, and this time you let them. You were too tired and too drunk and too emptied out to hold that back too.
Garrett rose off his knees and sat beside you on the bed and pulled you into him without any hesitation.
You leaned.
That was the hardest part, always. The leaning. Letting someone else take some of the weight.
You were so tired of holding yourself upright.
"You're not too much," he said, into your hair. "You have never been too much."
You didn't answer.
"I mean it."
"I know you do," you said, very quietly.
He held you tighter. The party carried on below, muffled and oblivious, bass thumping through the floor, and up here it was just this. His arms. The familiar smell of him. The particular exhaustion of something finally, finally spilling over after being held too long.
You didn't feel better.
Not exactly. Not the way you'd maybe hoped. The shame of the drinking wasn't gone - that would probably be worse in the morning, honestly.
But Garrett didn't let go.
He kept one hand moving, slow and steady, through your hair, the way he did when you were half-asleep and he thought you weren't noticing. Like this was something he wanted to do. Like you were something worth being careful with.
You didn't know how to explain what that did to you.
You weren't sure you had to. At least not tonight. Not to Garrett.
Tonight, you closed your eyes and let him hold you, and tried to remember how to just be here. Without managing, without performing.
in which — with the yule ball nearing at hogwarts, many boys plan on testing their luck at asking your hand—yet to no avail. when your friends overhear a fellow slytherin boy plan on asking you, who has a history for leading girls on, they set off to sabotage his chances..
contains — six overprotective friends (draco malfoy, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, blaise zabini, enzo berkshire, pansy parkinson), slytherin!reader, a brief quidditch game, appearances from an invisible harry potter, marcus flint, fred weasley, ron weasley, hagrid, and more
word count — 3.9k
“Did you see the way she blocked that Quaffle? It was brilliant,” the voice of Adrian Pucey, Chaser of the Slytherin Quidditch team, echoched through the changing rooms.
“She’s brilliant,” Marcus Flint, Chaser and team captain, said.
Theodore Nott, who had been running a towel through his freshly-washed hair following an intense Quidditch practice, rolled his eyes at the conversation. His ears perked up, however, when he suddenly heard your name brought up.
“Planning on asking her later tonight?” Pucey asked, the sound of his voice becoming muffled as he pulled a fresh shirt over his head.
“Yeah. Just hoping no one’s beat me to it,” Flint said, as he packed his emerald green Quidditch robes away.
“I don’t know, a lot of people have been planning on it. I overheard a group at the Hufflepuff table during breakfast saying that Cedric Diggory was going to ask her,” Pucey said.
“Well, he’s just gonna have to settle for someone else, then, won’t he?” Flint said, clapping a hand on Pucey’s shoulder, before the two made their way out of the changing rooms.
Theo scoffed. “Did you hear what they just said?” he turned towards Mattheo Riddle and Draco Malfoy, who were also on the Slytherin team.
“No, what’d he say?” Mattheo asked, as he was too busy trying to polish the handle of his broomstick.
Draco rolled his eyes at him, before relaying the hushed conversation.
“Flint is planning on asking her? No, no way. He’s a proper git,” Mattheo said.
“Exactly,” Theo said, biting the skin of his lip.
“Why don’t we just stop him?” Mattheo asked, pulling on his uniform robes as he spoke.
“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” Draco asked.
Mattheo simply smirked.
Fighting to catch their breath, the three boys made their way inside Professor Flitwick’s Charms class — not without having had the stairs change directions on them, much to the delightment of the portraits on the wall.
As they walked through the large wooden door, they spotted you, sitting alone at a table, pulling your wand out of the pocket of your robes.
They sighed in momentary relief, before spotting him. Marcus Flint had entered just moments prior to them, and was making his way over to the vacated seat next to you, a smug look on his face.
Without even a moment’s hesitation, Theo stride over to your desk from the opposite side of the room. With the books he held in his arms, he pushed them harshly against Flint, who toppled backwards a few steps. Theo seized the opportunity, pulling out the chair next to yours, placing his books down harshly on the desk connected to yours.
“Salve, bella,” he greeted innocently, sitting down before Flint could even collect himself. “Hey,” you greeted back, looking over at him with a small smile.
Theo looked to the other side of him, shrugging at Marcus with an even smugger look on his face. Marcus scoffed, begrudgingly placing his own books on the desk behind yours.
Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who had watched the whole ordeal from the desks beside yours, giggled, as Mattheo and Draco made their way to the desks on the other side of where the two you sat.
They each shot Flint a glowering look, before sitting down.
“Pansy,” Theo whispered.
“Pansy,” Draco whispered, as the girl hadn’t responded.
“Pansyyy,” Mattheo drew out.
Pansy Parkinson slammed her quill down on top of her copy of Advanced Potion-Making, before turning towards the group of boys around her.
“Can I help you?” she asked, a little too loudly — many heads in the crowded library turned towards her.
“Not us,” Theo said, before informing the girl on the current predicament that was to ‘scar’ a member of their group.
“What’s so bad about Flint? She told me just the other day that he had caught a rogue Bludger before it hit her head,” Pansy said.
“Yeah, that he had caused,” Blaise Zabini, who was also on the Quidditch team, clarified. “If he hadn’t darted across the pitch towards the goalposts trying to impress her, that Bludger wouldn’t have even gone near her pretty face.”
“And, you didn’t hear this from me,” Mattheo said, his voice hushed, “but someone might have caught Marcus Flint snogging a Ravenclaw at the Three Broomsticks at the last Hogsmeade visit.”
“If by ‘someone’ you mean the same guy who bind his legs together so he fell face-first in the snow?” Enzo Berkshire teased.
“Oh, please. He was begging for it — what, with how red his lips were,” Mattheo defended.
“Just days before that,” Theo added on, “he had planned on putting a love potion in a fourth-year Slytherin’s pumpkin juice at breakfast.”
“So basically, the guy’s a git,” Draco concluded, his arms crossed as he leant back against a bookcase.
Pansy picked up her quill, lifting the end of it up to her lips as she thought. “Okay, let’s just set her up with someone else, then,” she said, pulling the feathery quill away from her lips to place back in her ink bottle.
Theo tutted. “That’s almost worse. We can’t have her running about with a Hufflepuff of all people at the Yule Ball.”
“Okay, so why don’t one of you go with her?” Pansy asked.
The five boys blinked, before looking at each other.
Enzo opened his mouth, almost protesting, before his lips met once more. Blaise rubbed a hand over his jaw tensely.
“Merlin, you guys are helpless,” Pansy said exasperatedly, shutting the cover of her textbook closed.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” you argued, as Theo reached down towards the hem of your coat, rubbing coarse snow off the material.
“Please, you would’ve fallen face-first in the snow if Mattheo hadn’t caught you,” Draco said from where he stood next to you. As the seven of you had begun making your way towards Hogsmeade, your boot had caught on something you couldn’t see — causing you to lose your balance. Mattheo, who had been walking in front of you, quickly spun around at the sound of your astonished shriek, grabbing hold of your forearms before you could fall to the ground — your long coat having dragged against the snow.
“It’s not my fault! I swear, it felt as if I’d tripped over someone’s foot — I even heard someone whisper an apology to me!” you defended.
“None of us heard anything,” Pansy said, as you could’ve sworn you heard Blaise whisper something along the lines of “She’s mental” in Theo’s ear.
“It’s fine, really,” you said, as Theo placed a quick Hot-Air Charm on your coat to dry it off.
As you entered the village of Hogsmeade, the small shops of the vicinity were limned with snow, many of the students and villagers bundled up from head-to-toe to ward against the bitter weather. “Where should we head to first?” Enzo asked, his head turning towards the line of shops.
“Pansy and I have to find shoes for the Yule Ball,” you said, as you looped your arm through hers.
The five boys looked at each other.
“So,” Mattheo cleared his throat. “About that, do you know who you’re going with yet?” he asked, feigning nonchalant interest.
The boys’ breaths hitched simultaneously. “No, not yet,” you said. They sighed in relief, Theo even smirking at your words.
“I mean, I think Seamus Finnigan was planning on asking me on the way to McGonagall’s class,” you added solemnly. “But I think he got cold-feet.”
Blaise held back a snigger, earning him a glare of warning from Draco. Seamus had been planning on asking you — he’d even boasted about it to all the Gryffindors — but, as Mattheo had heard him discussing it with Dean Thomas in passing, he’d quickly brushed shoulders with the boy, causing his books and rolls of parchment to topple to the floor. Mattheo waved his wand inconspicuously on top of one of the fallen parchments.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, man,” Seamus roared, leaning down to pick up his fallen materials. As he stood up, arms full of books and loose rolls of parchment, Dean gasped. “Seamus, your face,” he pointed at the boy’s forehead. The words “BACK OFF” were spelt in angry purple pimples across the skin of his forehead. Mattheo caught Seamus’ eye, smirking, before turning down the corridor.
“Every boy is just dying to ask you, don’t worry about it,” Pansy giggled, pulling you towards Gladrags Wizardwear, away from the boys. You shot them a quick shrug, waving in parting.
Mattheo sighed, a smirk on his face. “I’m surprised. I had thought Seamus was sure to try again,” he said.
“He’s a Gryffindor, their whole house values are a hoax,” Blaise said, watching as a group of weary third-years ran in the opposite direction of the Shrieking Shack.
The door to Honeydukes jingled open, stepping out of it two familiar Slytherin students.
Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey talked animatedly to one another, their hands filled with bags of sweets.
“Do you think she’ll like these?” Flint asked.
“Definitely. She’s always eating those sherbet lemons before Quidditch practice,” Pucey said matter-of-factly.
The two boys made their way through the crowd of students in Hogsmeade, oblivious to the five glaring boys who stood a distance away.
As Flint adjusted the green-and-silver scarf that rested around his neck, Mattheo pulled out his wand.
Enzo quickly reached towards him, lowering his arm that held the wand. “What are you doing?” he shrieked.
“They’re obviously talking about her,” Mattheo said quickly.
“They haven’t said anything bad,” Enzo defended.
As Enzo’s hand wrapped around the length of Mattheo’s wand to aim it downwards, a non-verbal incantation accidentally spewed out from the tip, green sparks illuminating at the two boys who now stood outside the Three Broomsticks.
“What-,” Marcus Flint called out, as a snowball had suddenly come barreling towards him, colliding with the back of his head.
As he turned, more came pelting towards him from an unknown source behind the group of watchful Slytherin boys, striking his coat and the middle of his face.
Adrian Pucey turned, coming face-to-face with another snowball, now aimed towards him. He quickly darted out of the way to avoid it, bumping into Flint — the two of them toppling backwards into a pile of packed snow.
As they regained themselves, they sat upwards, more snowballs continuing to shoot towards them.
“Come on!” Pucey roared, darting back towards the castle.
Several people had come out of the shops at the sound of the raucous, pointing and laughing at the scene before them. Draco was leaning against Blaise to stay upright through his own hysterics.
Flint shot a furtive look around, before running after him.
“Wow, thanks mate,” Mattheo chortled. “That went better than I could’ve hoped,” he patted Enzo on the shoulder approvingly.
“OH, that had to have hurt,” the voice of Lee Jordan roared throughout the pitch, following a Bludger that had struck Fred Weasley near his crotch.
“Gryffindor’s in possession of the Quaffle — OOH, but an amazing save from the Slytherin Keeper. She’s quite beautiful as well, many boys would surely agree-,” he began.
“JORDAN!” McGonagall roared at him.
“Only saying the truth, Professor,” he defended.
Theo, who was sat on his own broomstick high above the pitch, scoffed at the boy’s words. He agreed with them, of course, but he would never admit to sharing the same opinion as a Gryffindor.
Mattheo flew up next to him, the two of them watching you as you guarded the goalposts for their team’s side.
“Slytherin’s Captain now has possession of the Quaffle, he’s speeding,” Jordan roared.
They watched as Marcus Flint flew past you with the Quaffle held in his hands, shooting you a sly wink before barreling through the Gryffindor players.
They caught sight of you as you blushed — whether out of genuine infatuation, or embarrassment at the lewd gesture, they weren’t sure.
“Slytherin scores!” Lee Jordan yelled, as the scores were updated for the match; 30 - 10 to Slytherin.
Marcus Flint wore a smug look on his face, fist-bumping Adrian Pucey as he passed him.
Draco Malfoy made his way over to where Theo and Mattheo hovered, craning his neck around in search of the fluttering Golden Snitch. As he spotted Flint’s ludicrous display of pride, he rolled his eyes. “I honestly wouldn’t mind if we didn’t win, just so I never have to see that stupid look on his face,” he scoffed out.
Mattheo rolled his eyes, as Flint aggressively banged his broomstick against Alicia Spinnet, one of the Gryffindor Chasers, causing her to fly straight into the high seats of the stands.
“You know what..” Marcus said, before flying forwards. He seized hold of a rogue Bluder before it could fly forwards, directing its path towards Marcus Flint’s broomstick.
As the large ball collided with the handle of Flint’s broom, he fell forwards off the base of it — falling through one of the hoops on the Gryffindor side, his broomstick falling after him.
The crowd winced, many of the Gryffindors even cheering after what he’d done to one of their Chasers.
Everyone craned their heads towards the grounds, watching as Flint lifted himself up groggily.
Mattheo actually laughed. “Flint, you’re supposed to send the Quaffle through the hoops,” he joked, before flying to the opposite side of the pitch, Theo chuckling behind him.
He caught sight of you — you looked down at the boy with your mouth agape, shaken by his fall, and the fact that it appeared as if Flint was hoisting a broken arm now.
Mattheo stared at your expression of shock for a moment. “He was begging for it,” he clarified, facing towards you. You turned your head to him, speechless.
“Potter’s caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!” Lee Jordan yelled, the stands exploding with yells of triumph.
The sounds of your team members’ groaning could be heard against the roaring crowd, but you didn’t pay them any mind. You scoffed at Mattheo, before flying towards the grounds.
“She’s still not talking to you?” Pansy asked over dinner. The section of the Slytherin table that was usually occupied by the seven of you was now partially-empty — with you being in the hospital wing, checking in on Flint.
“No,” Mattheo said through a mouthful of shepherd’s pie. “I’ve already told her it was an accident.”
“Uh.. no it wasn’t. We all saw what happened,” Enzo said confusedly.
Mattheo glared at him. “Well, I didn’t intend for him to fall,” he defended. “And besides, with our Captain injured, the next Quidditch match will have to be postponed.”
“Well, forget about all of that for now,” Blaise said, trying to ease the tension. “The ball’s tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I heard tomorrow night’s supposed to be spectacular,” Enzo chimed in.
The golden platters in front of them vanished of dinner, dessert appearing in their place. “I’ve heard that Dumbledore hired the Weird Sisters again for the whole evening,” Pansy said.
Theo helped himself to a treacle tart. “Wait, Panse — who are you going to the ball with?” he suddenly asked.
Pansy blushed furiously. She reached for her goblet of pumpkin juice, bringing it up to her lips to hide her reddening cheeks. She swallowed harshly against the cup, her eyes meeting Draco’s over the top.
“There’s no chance,” Theo said, catching on.
Draco smirked. “Well, you lot were all too preoccupied to even consider asking Pansy over here,” he said. “And, by the looks of it, I’m the only of us who has a date for tomorrow.”
The four boys looked between the two of them in shock.
Blaise leaned forwards, looking up-and-down the table. He whistled softly to catch the attention of a girl in their year on the other end. Daphne Greengrass’ head of long blonde-hair whipped towards the sound.
“Daphne, want to go to the ball with me?” he causally asked. The girl looked over at her younger sister who sat to her other side, who nodded frantically at her. “Yeah, alright,” she said smiling, before turning towards her friends, who all squealed.
“You’re not the only one,” he said smugly, reaching for a cream custard from the middle of the table.
Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo sat there, eating frustratedly. Enzo looked rather pale at the news that, by the looks of it, he would be attending the ball without a date. Theo and Mattheo, however, glared at one another.
Feeble phrases of “I love your dress!” and “You look stunning!” were exchanged throughout the Entrance Hall. The five boys, dressed in black and white dress robes, made their way up the stairs of the dungeons towards the sounds — Pansy, dressed in a pale pink dress that complimented her look, with her arm looped through Draco’s.
Pansy had already relayed the news that you would be attending the ball, but without Flint, who was still cooped up in the hospital wing. Even without his injury, he hadn’t mustered up the nerve to ask you in the end.
As they made their way into the Great Hall, which was decked with false snow over the enchanted ceiling, and an abundance of small circular tables crowded around a large empty dance space, they quickly found a table large enough to situate the lot of them.
As rounds of students dressed to the nines continued to file into the Hall, all of their heads stayed craned towards the entrance, anticipating your arrival.
When the staff made their way towards the large table at the front of the room, Dumbledore leading the end of the rear, they still stared, waiting for you.
Yet, with a flick of his wand, the doors were shut, the lights were dimmed, and the music began — you hadn’t arrived.
As the dance floor quickly crowded with students — sounds of winces from toes being stepped on, whistles of appreciation as Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson partook in an odd sort of waltz, cheers as the Weird Sisters performed the night away — you were nowhere to be seen.
“I thought you said she was coming,” Mattheo called across the table accusatorially to Pansy.
“That’s what she told me!” she defended, as Draco made his way back to the table with two glasses of punch in his hands. Soon enough, she placed her finished cup down, reached for his hand, and the two of them were now part of the large group of students on the dance floor.
Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo sat at the now empty table dejectedly, watching as Blaise and Daphne engaged in a rather fond display of affection.
“Hey,” a girl called out. All three of their heads quickly looked up, expecting to spot you, but it was a Ravenclaw student a year below them, who was speaking to Enzo.
“Want to dance?” she asked. He blinked in surprise, before gratefully accepting the offer, jumping to his feet and stumbling slightly over the table cloth near his feet.
“Great, just great,” Theo said, as Enzo now joined the excited crowd of students — small Professor Flitwick was even crowd-surfing, as Professors McGonagall and Snape watched in mild-amusement; it even looked as if Snape was fighting back a smirk.
Then, they spotted you. You were stood behind the doors of the Entrance Hall, watching the crowd on the dance floor.
Their eyes widened, taking in your appearance — you were wearing a black dress, and your hair was cascading neatly down your shoulders and back.
With one long look at the crowd, you turned away, out-of-sight.
Mattheo and Theo looked at each other, before leaving their seats, mumbles of “Excuse us,” and “Oh, just move! Would you?” falling from their lips as they followed after you.
As they left the loud atmospheric Great Hall, they spotted you sitting alone on the steps of the Entrance Hall, leaning against your legs as you held them tightly to your frame, carefully with the dress you wore.
A group of girls sat behind you, comforting a sobbing girl as she rubbed furiously at her red-rimmed eyes, mascara staining her cheeks.
“Bella, what’s the matter?” Theo asked as softly as he could. He sat down next to you on the steps, Mattheo sitting down on your other side.
You sniffled slightly. As their eyes adjusted to the contrasting dim glow of the Entrance Hall against the dimly-lit Great Hall, they noticed how you had even done your makeup pulchritudinously for the occasion.
“I don’t have a date,” you whispered, slightly embarrassed.
Mattheo shifted as he sat on the stone step. “Don’t worry, we don’t either,” he said.
You wiped quickly at your cheeks, before turning towards him at his words. “Really?” you asked, slightly shocked.
“Yeah, well, we were sort of at odds with each other over who’d get to ask you,” Mattheo said, reaching forwards and snatching a bottle of Butterbeer from a younger student, who was too frightened to object. He unscrewed the cap, throwing his head back as he took a long swig.
“Though, I don’t think we really realized it until Marcus Flint tried to do what we couldn’t,” Theo admitted.
“Wait, so that’s why you basically tried to kill him?” you asked Mattheo.
“Uh, not killed, but.. yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious, to be fair,” he said, taking another swig of the Butterbeer.
“Well, what’s done is done,” Theo said, shifting the conversation awkwardly from what they’d guiltily admitted to doing. “There’s no point in moping about it out here, when the dance is in there,” he said, pointing into the Great Hall, where Hagrid was now spotted towering over the crowd of students as he found himself in the middle of the dance circle.
“Come on,” he stood up, reaching his hand towards you. Mattheo placed his half-finished bottle of Butterbeer on the steps, before extending his hand out to you as well.
You smiled softly, reaching for both of their hands as they pulled you up, towards the Great Hall.
As you entered, you heard a loud shout of your name over the blaring music, before Pansy came striding towards you, Draco behind her. “You look beautiful,” you both said at the same time, causing the two of you to giggle.
“Come, you’ve almost missed it — Professor McGonagall is dancing with Ron Weasley!” she exclaimed, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the loud ensemble of students.
Draco, Mattheo, and Theo followed after, and it was not long before Blaise and Enzo found the four of you.
As Theo offered you his hand for a dance, you took it — the two of you slow-dancing alongside Pansy and Draco, as her head rested against his shoulder. Even Enzo and Mattheo had decided to, jokingly, dance together — much to the entertainment of everyone around them, many people not even attempting to suppress their giggles at the sight of them.
As Mattheo later bowed to you for a dance, the two of you jumped in the mass of the crowd, everyone singing along to a familiar tune the Sisters crowed out.
With Pansy gossiping in your ear about who you ‘wouldn’t believe’ Moaning Myrtle had corralled into saving her a dance, Mattheo’s head lolling onto Blaise’s shoulder at the table after having drank too much Butterbeer, Enzo wincing as he rubbed at his back after having fallen when Mattheo refused to catch him in a jig, and Draco and Theo shamelessly laughing at students who failed miserably to dance with their partners — you were glad that the ball had finally dropped.
notes ⋆. 𐙚 ₊˚ thank you for the request, anon, i hope you liked it !! i just finished re-reading the gof and couldn’t resist writing for the yule ball 😭
Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.
Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking
Length: 5700 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger
"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"
"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."
"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.
"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."
"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.
"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."
He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."
"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"
"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat."
"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"
"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.
"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend."
When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."
"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"
Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."
Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board.
"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."
"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"
"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.
"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.
"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."
A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.
You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."
-----------------------
I'll let you know if I need you.
Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.
So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck.
It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.
"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.
"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there.
She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."
Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.
"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."
"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up.
Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.
"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."
When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"
He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.
"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."
When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."
He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"
She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."
"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."
He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"
"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."
He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.
'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'
"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"
Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered.
He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.
Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.
"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he waited in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too! A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.
Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.
"Hey, are you Bradley?"
He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.
"Julian?"
"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"
"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.
"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."
Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."
Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."
He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."
"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"
Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking."
"What's it say?"
He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense.
"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."
"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."
"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."
"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."
Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall.
"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"
"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."
When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"
"Good luck!"
The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.
"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host.
"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"
"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."
"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.
"No. They left about an hour ago."
"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again.
'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'
He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"
Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"
"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.
"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."
Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."
"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"
"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."
"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."
Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more?
"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back?
That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.
"You got this!"
Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.
"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID."
Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard.
"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."
"No ID, no entrance."
"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.
"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties.
She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."
"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.
"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."
"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."
Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"
Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."
"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.
"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."
She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."
Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."
"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone.
"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"
"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."
Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.
"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."
Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.
"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again.
"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.
"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."
"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him.
"She's not here?"
"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.
"Well, where are we going next?"
Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."
"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.
It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally, finally texting him back.
"Yeah, you're right, Julian."
"About what, my man?"
Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."
Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."
But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here.
He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.
Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.
He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.
Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.
When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"
"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.
"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"
Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."
But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."
"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."
He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."
Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."
He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"
With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.
----------------------------
There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.
"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone.
As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.
"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."
When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."
You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.
He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."
"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."
He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.
"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.
"You really don't remember?"
Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.
"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.
"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"
"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"
He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."
"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb.
"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this.
You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"
He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him.
"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.
Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.
"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.
"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.
"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.
"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."
"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."
As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."
"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.
"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."
He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."
"Is it really so bad that I do?"
His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."
"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."
You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"
He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."
Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.
"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."
But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.
This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"
"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"
"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."
"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."
You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.
"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."
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He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger
Notes: Sequel to "Mr. CHiPs." Fluff, flirting. 3k words.
Main Masterlist
You grin widely in triumph when you notice his face heat up but he’s all confidence when he responds, “I’ve just made up my mind.”
“What’s that?”
“You can call me whatever the fuck you want.”
Strolling into the bar, Bradley can’t help but glance around the room to check for you, despite knowing he was earlier than the time he gave you. The building was mostly empty, and he decided that none of the patrons were nearly beautiful enough to have been you.
Behind the counter cleaning glasses, Penny calls him over, “You’re here early.”
“I’m meeting someone.”
“Ahhh yeah,” she nods “that girl that told you to get lost last night?”
“That’s the one. And she didn’t tell me to get lost,” he gives her a pointed look.
Bradley pulls out a barstool and as soon as he’s settled, glues his eyes to the door. Penny smirks, shaking her head at his expense. Bradley’s sweet and he means the world to Pete, and she wants the best for him too. It’s nice seeing him act a little lovesick after all the weekend flings she’s seen him go through, but she just hopes the girl is worth it.
“Can I get you anything while you wait?” She offers.
His eyes don’t leave the door as he answers, “Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t hurt to take the edge off.”
“And might as well start now, you know, in case she doesn’t show.”
Bradley faces her, utterly sure of himself. “Oh, she’ll show.”
But when he looks back at the door, his face falters, revealing just a little of the insecurity that hides beneath. This is unusual for him, asking a girl out on a real date. Even though he told you that wasn’t what it was, well… that was really just as much of an excuse for him as it was for you. If he didn’t think of tonight as a real date, maybe his nerves would calm down. The minutes tick by and eventually his heart stops beating so hard as his attention is drawn to the little tv in the corner, playing the game.
The door creaks open followed by a warm gust of air. Reminded of why he’s there again, Bradley jerks his head away from the TV to see you standing in the doorway.
There you are. He can’t believe you came. You’re wearing the same jeans as last night, and you’ve got a light flannel-type overshirt to protect against the evening air as it quickly cools down outside. You looked cute. And you seem confident as you make eye contact with him across the bar.
“She came,” the surprise slips from his voice.
“I thought you knew she was coming,” Penny pokes fun at him, but Bradley’s already left his chair to greet you at the door.
You pull your sunglasses off and smile at him. He’s enamored by your wide smile and the way your eyes crinkle. He also can’t help a self-satisfied smirk when he catches you raking your eyes up and down his body. You’re halted in place and a little short-breathed watching him saunter confidently towards you. He doesn’t stop until he’s close enough that your hips are just a hand’s width away. Bradley’s itching to rest his hands over your hips but decides against it. The smell of his cologne is making you just a little light-headed.
He gazes down at you. “Y/n. You came.”
Your name coming from his voice swept you back to last night, when you were practically in his arms. It sends a shockwave through you. Was that sultry voice really talking to you? You can feel heat creeping up your neck.
Stay strong.
Despite your best efforts, your voice cracks slightly when you reply, “I guess your pitch worked.”
Bradley lets his hand just barely graze your hip, though you catch the hesitation in it when he quickly pulls it away.
“Good.” Just now noticing how close he’s standing to you, he clears his throat and backs up a step.
“Can I get you a drink?” He asks in a normal tone, snapping you out of your mustache induced daze, reminding you that you’re in a public place.
“You promised this wouldn’t be a date.”
He playfully rolls his eyes at you. “It’s just a curtesy, sweetheart.”
You purse your lips in an effort not to smile at the nickname he’s quickly adopted for you. You concede and he leads you up to the bar. “What are we drinking?”
“Heineken.”
There’s a glint in his eye and he openly smiles at the realization that he was right - you were perfect.
“Two Heinekens, please, Penny.”
A dark-haired woman serving the bar gives a shit-eating grin to Bradley.
“Sure thing, Rooster.” She pries the tops off and hands them over and leans across the counter.
“So, you gonna introduce me to your friend here?”
“Penny, this is y/n. Y/n, Penny,” he says while handing you your drink.
“Nice to meet you, y/n. And don’t worry about Rooster, he’ll treat you right.” You laugh and look over at Bradley, his embarrassment made evident by his quickly reddening face. Penny leans closer to you, conspiratorially, “And if he doesn’t, you let me know. I’ll take care of him for you.” She winks.
You’re smiling and laughing as you thank her for her offer and the beer. Bradley gently grabs your hand to pull you away as he sarcastically replies, “Yeah, thanks a lot, Pen. We’re gonna go over there now.”
You can’t stop giggling as he leads you to a table in the corner. “Okay, I’d keep coming here just for her.”
He laughs, shrugging, “Hey, as long as you keep coming back.”
Bradley can’t get enough of your laughter. He’s never had a hard time getting girls to laugh, but it was never nearly this satisfying. He’d tell flirty jokes, keeping some girl giggly and flirty, while knowing full well that he could probably say just about anything, and they’d happily drag him home. Tag chasers would clock the uniform, and the rest was too easy. And he’s not naïve, Bradley knows being 6’1” and fit helps. He’s amusingly learned that the mustache doesn’t hurt either. But right now, there are no hidden intentions. He wants to keep you laughing because every time you flash him that grin, he gets giddy inside. He thinks that adorable laugh might just be music to his ears.
Once you’re comfortable in your seat, you bring up what you couldn’t stop thinking about all morning. Well, one of the many things you couldn’t stop thinking about.
“You know, you didn’t have to do that. Pay for our drinks last night.”
He smiles. “Yeah, but it made a real good impression, didn’t it?”
You laugh. “I don’t know about that, but it showed you have dedication.”
“Same thing.”
“Well, thank you, anyways. I wouldn’t have let my friends get so tipsy if I knew you grabbed the tab.”
He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”
You’ve entered dangerous territory where you don’t really know what to say next. Bradley doesn’t seem to mind the silence, looking content as ever just looking at you. His gaze is making your face heat up again. You gotta get yourself under control, but honestly, you’re just not used to someone looking at you with so much… attentiveness.
“So, why was she calling you Rooster?” You say, gesturing to Penny at the bar. You pretend not to catch her watching you out the corner of her eye.
“It’s my callsign.”
“Callsign? What do you do that you have a callsign?”
Not trying at all to hide his smirk, he takes a sip of his beer. “I’m a fighter pilot.”
And obviously aware of the effect that information has on women, you think to yourself.
“You must be very disciplined.”
Bradley thinks for a moment. No one’s said that to him yet. At least not a pretty girl. He quickly thinks through all the ways it could be taken as flirtatious. But you’re not looking at him like that, like there’s an innuendo behind your words. You look interested.
“Because I’m in the Navy?”
“Well, yeah, but also because you don’t just get that job on a whim. How long have you wanted to be a pilot?”
He smiles, and it’s one of the most genuine smiles you’ve seen. For a moment his eyes drift behind you, nostalgia written all over his face, before coming back to rest on yours again. There’s a tension that leaves his body. You knew from your first meeting that he liked to show off, but your question seems to have grabbed him by the hand and pulled him down to settle into a place more comfortable. Somewhere that he felt confident without having to show off. It’s as if you’ve just told him “at ease.”
“My whole life. My dad was one”
“That’s amazing. I think it’s so cool when people know their whole life what they want to do. And then do it.”
“It took a lot of work, I won’t lie.” You laugh with him.
“I admire that.” You’re glowing at him and Bradley can’t help but bask in it. You scrunch your face slightly, thinking of something. “What should I call you?” He grins at you.
“What sounds better to you?”
You lean over the table, resting your head on your fist, contemplating. Slowly and purposefully, you pronounce his name. “Bradley.” He waits patiently for the next one. “Rooster.” Then, with a smirk that you’re honestly trying really hard to hide, you carefully say, in your best bedroom voice, “Lieutenant.”
You grin widely in triumph when you notice his face heat up but he’s all confidence when he responds, “I’ve just made up my mind.”
“What’s that?”
“You can call me whatever the fuck you want.”
…
The rest of the evening could be considered a perfect date. Sure, a few more beers helped to loosen you both up, but they couldn’t take all the credit for the giddiness you felt every time his mustache twitched over his little all-knowing smirk, or the comfortability between you as you shared about yourselves, and the warmth that spread through your whole body once he got more confident resting an arm around your shoulder.
You asked him about his dad and listened to Bradley admiringly talk about his father. You got the impression they must be very close. It wasn’t until after Bradley pointed behind you to a wall filled with pictures of Navy people saying, “In Memoriam” that you realized he had died. And then it clicked that that’s where he had looked when you first asked him about being a pilot.
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
So young. You barely even remember middle school.
“You really kept him alive.”
“No, my mom did. And all his buddies.”
Naturally, you asked about his mother. This time, he told you right away that she had passed from cancer shortly after he graduated college. You did your best to hide most of the sympathy you felt, not wanting to make him feel pitied.
The mood lightened when he noticed a crew of people walk in and called them over. You recognized them as being the same group that hung around him last night. You were glad for it. Not that you didn’t want to talk about his parents, but you felt bad making him relive both of their deaths right after each other.
You couldn’t help but be shy as he introduced you to people he was so clearly close with. You can’t say you’ve ever gotten so familiar with someone’s personal life on a first date- sorry, wait – before even having a first date. You shoved Bradley and laughed out loud when one of his friends asked about who his date was.
“She’s just a friend, Hangman. We haven’t started dating yet.”
Hangman gives you a smirk, though you know he’s not being serious. “So, it’s alright then if I ask her out?”
“No!”
The evening comfortably moved from your more serious topics to easy sarcasm and banter while you watched Bradley play pool with his friends. Not just banter with him, but all of them. It was nice to experience both his fun side and his ability to have a serious conversation. It was also encouraging to know he seemed to have stand-up friends. Between those encouraging signs and the sight of his very nicely fitting jeans when he leaned over the pool table, these thoughts were making you mushier and mushier every time he looked at you. You had to remind yourself you just met this man. Who knew who he could turn out to be. But then he offered you the pool cue, and when you said you weren’t very good, he said, “That’s alright sweetheart, I’ll help you.” And when he wrapped his big arms around you to help steady your aim, your mind was too fuzzy to remember anything about being cautious.
As the night carried on one of his friends, Coyote, you learned – honestly, thank god for callsigns because they were so much easier to remember than actual names – asked Bradley if he was going to sing tonight. Bradley declined, to your surprise.
“Not tonight, man.”
“Aw come on, you’re not gonna show off for me?” You begged.
“And leave you by yourself, free for anybody to pick up? I don’t think so. You’re still single, you know. I gotta keep an eye on you until we’re official," he says, shooting you a wink.
In sober circumstances, you’d be blushing like crazy, but the alcohol in your system made you grin widely and drop your forehead to his shoulder. He laughs, wrapping his arm around you tighter and continues his conversation with his friends, like your head on his shoulder is a natural staple that everyone should be used to.
…
Smiling and giggling, Bradley leads you out of the bar. You don’t know what time it is, and you don’t remember where you parked. You’re really not that tipsy, but you just can’t pull yourself away from leaning on him. He’s looking down at you, enamored with how you’ve wrapped your arms around his, fully leaning into him; at your hair, scratching his cheek; at your fingers interlaced so tightly with his.
“Oh shit! I almost forgot!”
“What?” You turn to look up at him, confused at his outburst.
“To ask you out!”
“Hah!” you laugh, playfully shoving him away. “You’re serious!”
“Of course I am, honey. Did you doubt me?” He clears his throat, taking another step back from you, before holding out his hand. “Excuse me, ma’am,”
You have to turn away for a moment from embarrassment and laughter. Regaining yourself, you hold out your hand to him. Just like the night before, his hand encompasses yours entirely. It's warm and a little sweaty, also like last night. You smile at the thought. You find yourself wanting it all over you.
“I’m Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, and I was watching you in the bar all night,” he continues, “and I just had to tell you, I’m real hung up on you.” You’re blushing harder than you think you ever have in your life.
“Could I take you out to dinner sometime? Maybe get your number?”
You light up in excitement as you remember something. Yes, you came prepared. Reaching into your pocket, you triumphantly pull out a sharpie, leaving Bradley to look at you in confusion.
“Lieutenant, I would love to give you my number.” You gesture for his hand. Realization hits him and he lets out a laugh but gives you his hand without hesitation.
“Old school, huh?”
You smirk. “Here’s the secret,” you explain, uncapping the sharpie “every day you’re gonna look at this and remember me writing it on you.”
He steps closer to you and reaches his other hand around your hips. “That’s a good tactic," he whispers in your ear.
“Mhm.”
Suddenly you stop right before the marker makes contact with the back of his hand.
“Will you get in trouble for having marker on your hand?”
You’re adorable. And practical.
“Maybe you should write it on my arm.”
You nod seriously and get back to the very important task at hand. Ever so carefully, you write out your number on his forearm, afterwards, gently patting his hand and giving it back to him. He doesn’t know why, but Bradley’s enthralled by the action. You stand in silence for a moment, content in just taking each other’s presence in.
“Can I walk you to your car?”
You sigh dramatically at having to tear your eyes away from him, earning a laugh from Bradley. Once you find and reach your car, you make no moves to grab your keys. You can’t stop looking at the smile on his face.
“You need help there, sweetheart?”
“No,” you roll your eyes, finally unclipping your keys from your belt loop. But you still hesitate to unlock your car. You turn to face him where he’s patiently waiting for you. All of a sudden, you feel shy, but you grab his hands anyways. Biting your lip, you slowly pull him into you, pressing yourself against your car. Bradley dips his head down, stopping just before reaching your lips. You’re waiting. Holding your breath. Feeling every bit of pressure of his fingers gently pressed into your sides. Then he smiles.
“Sorry honey, that’s a first date activity.” He leans away, though still holding you to your car. Your head falls back with a groan and your knees go weak, forcing him to hold you up, making Bradley laugh at your exasperation.
“Some might even say a second date activity.” You glare at him. He just keeps giving you that cocky grin. “You know, if I remember correctly, last night you thought I was a Navy skeeze.”
You gasp out loud, laughing at his words, but you can’t deny, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Fine,” you give in, fingers hooked through his belt loops, trying to pull him even closer, “You proved yourself very nicely tonight, Rooster.” He smirks at your use of his callsign. It’s cute coming from your lips.
He takes a step back when you gently push him away. “Let’s see if you can keep it up.”
Notes: Sequel to "Mr. CHiPs." Fluff, flirting. 3k words.
Main Masterlist
You grin widely in triumph when you notice his face heat up but he’s all confidence when he responds, “I’ve just made up my mind.”
“What’s that?”
“You can call me whatever the fuck you want.”
Strolling into the bar, Bradley can’t help but glance around the room to check for you, despite knowing he was earlier than the time he gave you. The building was mostly empty, and he decided that none of the patrons were nearly beautiful enough to have been you.
Behind the counter cleaning glasses, Penny calls him over, “You’re here early.”
“I’m meeting someone.”
“Ahhh yeah,” she nods “that girl that told you to get lost last night?”
“That’s the one. And she didn’t tell me to get lost,” he gives her a pointed look.
Bradley pulls out a barstool and as soon as he’s settled, glues his eyes to the door. Penny smirks, shaking her head at his expense. Bradley’s sweet and he means the world to Pete, and she wants the best for him too. It’s nice seeing him act a little lovesick after all the weekend flings she’s seen him go through, but she just hopes the girl is worth it.
“Can I get you anything while you wait?” She offers.
His eyes don’t leave the door as he answers, “Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t hurt to take the edge off.”
“And might as well start now, you know, in case she doesn’t show.”
Bradley faces her, utterly sure of himself. “Oh, she’ll show.”
But when he looks back at the door, his face falters, revealing just a little of the insecurity that hides beneath. This is unusual for him, asking a girl out on a real date. Even though he told you that wasn’t what it was, well… that was really just as much of an excuse for him as it was for you. If he didn’t think of tonight as a real date, maybe his nerves would calm down. The minutes tick by and eventually his heart stops beating so hard as his attention is drawn to the little tv in the corner, playing the game.
The door creaks open followed by a warm gust of air. Reminded of why he’s there again, Bradley jerks his head away from the TV to see you standing in the doorway.
There you are. He can’t believe you came. You’re wearing the same jeans as last night, and you’ve got a light flannel-type overshirt to protect against the evening air as it quickly cools down outside. You looked cute. And you seem confident as you make eye contact with him across the bar.
“She came,” the surprise slips from his voice.
“I thought you knew she was coming,” Penny pokes fun at him, but Bradley’s already left his chair to greet you at the door.
You pull your sunglasses off and smile at him. He’s enamored by your wide smile and the way your eyes crinkle. He also can’t help a self-satisfied smirk when he catches you raking your eyes up and down his body. You’re halted in place and a little short-breathed watching him saunter confidently towards you. He doesn’t stop until he’s close enough that your hips are just a hand’s width away. Bradley’s itching to rest his hands over your hips but decides against it. The smell of his cologne is making you just a little light-headed.
He gazes down at you. “Y/n. You came.”
Your name coming from his voice swept you back to last night, when you were practically in his arms. It sends a shockwave through you. Was that sultry voice really talking to you? You can feel heat creeping up your neck.
Stay strong.
Despite your best efforts, your voice cracks slightly when you reply, “I guess your pitch worked.”
Bradley lets his hand just barely graze your hip, though you catch the hesitation in it when he quickly pulls it away.
“Good.” Just now noticing how close he’s standing to you, he clears his throat and backs up a step.
“Can I get you a drink?” He asks in a normal tone, snapping you out of your mustache induced daze, reminding you that you’re in a public place.
“You promised this wouldn’t be a date.”
He playfully rolls his eyes at you. “It’s just a curtesy, sweetheart.”
You purse your lips in an effort not to smile at the nickname he’s quickly adopted for you. You concede and he leads you up to the bar. “What are we drinking?”
“Heineken.”
There’s a glint in his eye and he openly smiles at the realization that he was right - you were perfect.
“Two Heinekens, please, Penny.”
A dark-haired woman serving the bar gives a shit-eating grin to Bradley.
“Sure thing, Rooster.” She pries the tops off and hands them over and leans across the counter.
“So, you gonna introduce me to your friend here?”
“Penny, this is y/n. Y/n, Penny,” he says while handing you your drink.
“Nice to meet you, y/n. And don’t worry about Rooster, he’ll treat you right.” You laugh and look over at Bradley, his embarrassment made evident by his quickly reddening face. Penny leans closer to you, conspiratorially, “And if he doesn’t, you let me know. I’ll take care of him for you.” She winks.
You’re smiling and laughing as you thank her for her offer and the beer. Bradley gently grabs your hand to pull you away as he sarcastically replies, “Yeah, thanks a lot, Pen. We’re gonna go over there now.”
You can’t stop giggling as he leads you to a table in the corner. “Okay, I’d keep coming here just for her.”
He laughs, shrugging, “Hey, as long as you keep coming back.”
Bradley can’t get enough of your laughter. He’s never had a hard time getting girls to laugh, but it was never nearly this satisfying. He’d tell flirty jokes, keeping some girl giggly and flirty, while knowing full well that he could probably say just about anything, and they’d happily drag him home. Tag chasers would clock the uniform, and the rest was too easy. And he’s not naïve, Bradley knows being 6’1” and fit helps. He’s amusingly learned that the mustache doesn’t hurt either. But right now, there are no hidden intentions. He wants to keep you laughing because every time you flash him that grin, he gets giddy inside. He thinks that adorable laugh might just be music to his ears.
Once you’re comfortable in your seat, you bring up what you couldn’t stop thinking about all morning. Well, one of the many things you couldn’t stop thinking about.
“You know, you didn’t have to do that. Pay for our drinks last night.”
He smiles. “Yeah, but it made a real good impression, didn’t it?”
You laugh. “I don’t know about that, but it showed you have dedication.”
“Same thing.”
“Well, thank you, anyways. I wouldn’t have let my friends get so tipsy if I knew you grabbed the tab.”
He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”
You’ve entered dangerous territory where you don’t really know what to say next. Bradley doesn’t seem to mind the silence, looking content as ever just looking at you. His gaze is making your face heat up again. You gotta get yourself under control, but honestly, you’re just not used to someone looking at you with so much… attentiveness.
“So, why was she calling you Rooster?” You say, gesturing to Penny at the bar. You pretend not to catch her watching you out the corner of her eye.
“It’s my callsign.”
“Callsign? What do you do that you have a callsign?”
Not trying at all to hide his smirk, he takes a sip of his beer. “I’m a fighter pilot.”
And obviously aware of the effect that information has on women, you think to yourself.
“You must be very disciplined.”
Bradley thinks for a moment. No one’s said that to him yet. At least not a pretty girl. He quickly thinks through all the ways it could be taken as flirtatious. But you’re not looking at him like that, like there’s an innuendo behind your words. You look interested.
“Because I’m in the Navy?”
“Well, yeah, but also because you don’t just get that job on a whim. How long have you wanted to be a pilot?”
He smiles, and it’s one of the most genuine smiles you’ve seen. For a moment his eyes drift behind you, nostalgia written all over his face, before coming back to rest on yours again. There’s a tension that leaves his body. You knew from your first meeting that he liked to show off, but your question seems to have grabbed him by the hand and pulled him down to settle into a place more comfortable. Somewhere that he felt confident without having to show off. It’s as if you’ve just told him “at ease.”
“My whole life. My dad was one”
“That’s amazing. I think it’s so cool when people know their whole life what they want to do. And then do it.”
“It took a lot of work, I won’t lie.” You laugh with him.
“I admire that.” You’re glowing at him and Bradley can’t help but bask in it. You scrunch your face slightly, thinking of something. “What should I call you?” He grins at you.
“What sounds better to you?”
You lean over the table, resting your head on your fist, contemplating. Slowly and purposefully, you pronounce his name. “Bradley.” He waits patiently for the next one. “Rooster.” Then, with a smirk that you’re honestly trying really hard to hide, you carefully say, in your best bedroom voice, “Lieutenant.”
You grin widely in triumph when you notice his face heat up but he’s all confidence when he responds, “I’ve just made up my mind.”
“What’s that?”
“You can call me whatever the fuck you want.”
…
The rest of the evening could be considered a perfect date. Sure, a few more beers helped to loosen you both up, but they couldn’t take all the credit for the giddiness you felt every time his mustache twitched over his little all-knowing smirk, or the comfortability between you as you shared about yourselves, and the warmth that spread through your whole body once he got more confident resting an arm around your shoulder.
You asked him about his dad and listened to Bradley admiringly talk about his father. You got the impression they must be very close. It wasn’t until after Bradley pointed behind you to a wall filled with pictures of Navy people saying, “In Memoriam” that you realized he had died. And then it clicked that that’s where he had looked when you first asked him about being a pilot.
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
So young. You barely even remember middle school.
“You really kept him alive.”
“No, my mom did. And all his buddies.”
Naturally, you asked about his mother. This time, he told you right away that she had passed from cancer shortly after he graduated college. You did your best to hide most of the sympathy you felt, not wanting to make him feel pitied.
The mood lightened when he noticed a crew of people walk in and called them over. You recognized them as being the same group that hung around him last night. You were glad for it. Not that you didn’t want to talk about his parents, but you felt bad making him relive both of their deaths right after each other.
You couldn’t help but be shy as he introduced you to people he was so clearly close with. You can’t say you’ve ever gotten so familiar with someone’s personal life on a first date- sorry, wait – before even having a first date. You shoved Bradley and laughed out loud when one of his friends asked about who his date was.
“She’s just a friend, Hangman. We haven’t started dating yet.”
Hangman gives you a smirk, though you know he’s not being serious. “So, it’s alright then if I ask her out?”
“No!”
The evening comfortably moved from your more serious topics to easy sarcasm and banter while you watched Bradley play pool with his friends. Not just banter with him, but all of them. It was nice to experience both his fun side and his ability to have a serious conversation. It was also encouraging to know he seemed to have stand-up friends. Between those encouraging signs and the sight of his very nicely fitting jeans when he leaned over the pool table, these thoughts were making you mushier and mushier every time he looked at you. You had to remind yourself you just met this man. Who knew who he could turn out to be. But then he offered you the pool cue, and when you said you weren’t very good, he said, “That’s alright sweetheart, I’ll help you.” And when he wrapped his big arms around you to help steady your aim, your mind was too fuzzy to remember anything about being cautious.
As the night carried on one of his friends, Coyote, you learned – honestly, thank god for callsigns because they were so much easier to remember than actual names – asked Bradley if he was going to sing tonight. Bradley declined, to your surprise.
“Not tonight, man.”
“Aw come on, you’re not gonna show off for me?” You begged.
“And leave you by yourself, free for anybody to pick up? I don’t think so. You’re still single, you know. I gotta keep an eye on you until we’re official," he says, shooting you a wink.
In sober circumstances, you’d be blushing like crazy, but the alcohol in your system made you grin widely and drop your forehead to his shoulder. He laughs, wrapping his arm around you tighter and continues his conversation with his friends, like your head on his shoulder is a natural staple that everyone should be used to.
…
Smiling and giggling, Bradley leads you out of the bar. You don’t know what time it is, and you don’t remember where you parked. You’re really not that tipsy, but you just can’t pull yourself away from leaning on him. He’s looking down at you, enamored with how you’ve wrapped your arms around his, fully leaning into him; at your hair, scratching his cheek; at your fingers interlaced so tightly with his.
“Oh shit! I almost forgot!”
“What?” You turn to look up at him, confused at his outburst.
“To ask you out!”
“Hah!” you laugh, playfully shoving him away. “You’re serious!”
“Of course I am, honey. Did you doubt me?” He clears his throat, taking another step back from you, before holding out his hand. “Excuse me, ma’am,”
You have to turn away for a moment from embarrassment and laughter. Regaining yourself, you hold out your hand to him. Just like the night before, his hand encompasses yours entirely. It's warm and a little sweaty, also like last night. You smile at the thought. You find yourself wanting it all over you.
“I’m Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, and I was watching you in the bar all night,” he continues, “and I just had to tell you, I’m real hung up on you.” You’re blushing harder than you think you ever have in your life.
“Could I take you out to dinner sometime? Maybe get your number?”
You light up in excitement as you remember something. Yes, you came prepared. Reaching into your pocket, you triumphantly pull out a sharpie, leaving Bradley to look at you in confusion.
“Lieutenant, I would love to give you my number.” You gesture for his hand. Realization hits him and he lets out a laugh but gives you his hand without hesitation.
“Old school, huh?”
You smirk. “Here’s the secret,” you explain, uncapping the sharpie “every day you’re gonna look at this and remember me writing it on you.”
He steps closer to you and reaches his other hand around your hips. “That’s a good tactic," he whispers in your ear.
“Mhm.”
Suddenly you stop right before the marker makes contact with the back of his hand.
“Will you get in trouble for having marker on your hand?”
You’re adorable. And practical.
“Maybe you should write it on my arm.”
You nod seriously and get back to the very important task at hand. Ever so carefully, you write out your number on his forearm, afterwards, gently patting his hand and giving it back to him. He doesn’t know why, but Bradley’s enthralled by the action. You stand in silence for a moment, content in just taking each other’s presence in.
“Can I walk you to your car?”
You sigh dramatically at having to tear your eyes away from him, earning a laugh from Bradley. Once you find and reach your car, you make no moves to grab your keys. You can’t stop looking at the smile on his face.
“You need help there, sweetheart?”
“No,” you roll your eyes, finally unclipping your keys from your belt loop. But you still hesitate to unlock your car. You turn to face him where he’s patiently waiting for you. All of a sudden, you feel shy, but you grab his hands anyways. Biting your lip, you slowly pull him into you, pressing yourself against your car. Bradley dips his head down, stopping just before reaching your lips. You’re waiting. Holding your breath. Feeling every bit of pressure of his fingers gently pressed into your sides. Then he smiles.
“Sorry honey, that’s a first date activity.” He leans away, though still holding you to your car. Your head falls back with a groan and your knees go weak, forcing him to hold you up, making Bradley laugh at your exasperation.
“Some might even say a second date activity.” You glare at him. He just keeps giving you that cocky grin. “You know, if I remember correctly, last night you thought I was a Navy skeeze.”
You gasp out loud, laughing at his words, but you can’t deny, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Fine,” you give in, fingers hooked through his belt loops, trying to pull him even closer, “You proved yourself very nicely tonight, Rooster.” He smirks at your use of his callsign. It’s cute coming from your lips.
He takes a step back when you gently push him away. “Let’s see if you can keep it up.”
Characters: Shawn Hunter, Female!reader, Cory Matthews, Topanga Lawrence, Jack Hunter
Warnings: Fluff, Cory being a dramatic bish, Panga is our homie, Jack is clueless, Shawn just wants his lady love, Eric is not mentioned but hiding somewhere in the scene, this was fun, I wanted to write for this fandom for a while, my baby bad boy hunter for the win, shawn introducing himself is an inside joke
You sit at the corner booth in your favorite restaurant, enjoying the quietness at your table even as the noise around you gets louder.
-
Shawn looks to his left and finds you, sitting there looking as pretty as ever.
Cory catches his gaze and realizes what, more like who, he’s looking at.
He shakes his head, “hey, Shawn.”
His friend turns to look at him.
“No.”
He pouts.
-
Topanga slips away from the two and wanders towards your table.
-
“Remember when we were ten and turned eleven?”
“Vaguely but go on.”
“She kicked you out of your chair because you called her essay messy. Are you- are you still with me here?”
“I am but I don’t see your point.”
“She will kick you out of your chair again, Shawn.”
“And I’ll lay on the floor a happy man.” He all but runs away from Cory.
-
“Hey," he slips in beside you. “Shawn hunter at your service,” he holds his hand out to you.
You glance at it and his face and can’t understand why he’s at the booth or trying to persuade you. “To what? Fail?”
He furrows his brows confused by your comment, most girls would start swooning over him by now.
He shakes his head and continues. “No, to study.”
-
Cory stands in the corner still, biting his nails. “He's lost it.”
-
“You’ve never once studied in your life, Hunter. What makes you think I’d want to study with you now?”
“It’ll be a date you won’t forget,” he tells you with one hundred percent certainty.
You take a deep breath, “I’ll admit that was a little smooth on your part, kudos to you but I can’t take that chance right now. I’m trying to get a good grade.”
“What about after?”
“After what?”
“The test. I want to go out with you.” You glance at Topanga from the corner of your eye, needing some reassurance that what he’s saying is real and not a joke.
You angle yourself to face him, “if there was ever a time where I’d say yes, which I haven’t yet, what would you be willing to do in order for that date to happen?”
He takes a deep breath, “I’ll let you kick me out of this booth.”
The corner of your lips twitch. “You two can’t let that go, huh.”
“No, Cory’s traumatized by it but for me, that was the day I knew I met someone who I’d be happy calling my wife.”
Your eyes widen and you can’t help but chuckle.
He always knew the things to say to get a response out of you.
“Deal.” You hold your hand out for him to shake.
He shakes your hand and places a soft kiss on the back of it before letting you kick him out.
“My butt might be sore later, but I’m not upset about it.”
-
Jack leans down to ask Cory, “did he just let someone kick him out of a booth?”
The younger man nods his head, “he told her to.”
“I’m afraid to ask but why?”
“They’re going on a date.”
“Oh. Oh. He does realize that’s not how you ask a girl out, right?”
(The best of this post and its reblogs, but with links that work)
Here is a website where you can scroll down to all the different levels of the ocean
Here is a website where you can see the future of the universe
Here is a website where you can press a ‘make everything okay’ button, over and over, until things really are okay
Here is a website that you can read if you feel like a burden
Here is a website where you can look at strobe illusions (TW strobe/flashing)
Here is a website where you can cut stuff up (TW blood/sh)
Here and here are websites where you can play with sand
Here is a website where you can draw with macaroni and other fun foods
Here is a website where you can paint someone’s nails
Here is a website where you can grow a garden with emojis
Here is a website with hundreds of videos of people hugging you (rightfully dubbed ‘the nicest place on the internet’ because it really is, y’all, it made me cry)
Here is a website that will take you to other useless websites
Here is a website where you can make a tiny cat play bongo drums (and other instruments!)
Here is a website to help give you gentle reminders <3
Here is a website where you can grow a tiny farm
Here is a website where you can take a bunch of scientific personality tests
Summary: You've always just been Sue's friend and Axl's never seen you as anything else... So, he says
Tw: Axl being a bully, blackmail briefly mentioned
Taglist: N/a
Axl was annoying and mean. You weren't necessarily sure why he was the way he was, but that's how he had always been; Especially to you. In fact, he seemed to take joy in being cruel to you. And while one might say he was like that to everyone, it seemed he took more joy into bullying you specifically. You could remember some very distinct times that stuck out to you.
----
You felt a light tug on your hair, causing you to swing your hair back and glare at the perpetrator, Axl. You groaned, ignoring him.
"What are you doing here, dweeb? Don't you have a house?" He walks around the counter to face you and eat his cereal. He takes a nice spoonful, before looking back at you as you roll your eyes.
"My house is being fumigated and your mother offered me to stay here for the next three days."
"Three days? No way-" He turns to his father who happened to walk in. "She's staying here for three days?"
Mike opens the fridge and grabs a beer before turning to Axl and shrugging. "That's what your mother said."
"Uh!" Axl groans. "That's not fair-"
"Hey, take it up with your mother."
He makes an ugly face and sticks his tongue out before heading back to his room.
--
You snuck up on the benchers, looking over, hoping to see a certain someone- Until you were interrupted.
"What are you doing?"
You quickly turned around, blindsided that you were caught by the worse person to be caught by- Axl. He was giving you that look- The one that said he had caught you.
You put a hand on your hip and sighed, "What... am I doing?" You looked around before tilting your head, "Um, I'm not doing anything."
"That's funny," He gestures to the group you were just staring at. "It looks like you're being a pervert."
"Pervert? Like you're one to talk."
He chuckles, before looking back at the group. "I wonder what they'd think if I told them some girl is spying on them?"
"And you think they'd believe you?"
"Yeah, I do," He pulls out his phone, snapping a quick photo of you. "Especially when they see this."
"You wouldn't dare-"
"Oh, but I would."
"God, what is your deal, Axl?"
"You. You are my deal."
You groan, rolling your eyes before crossing your arms. "What do you want?"
"I am so glad you asked."
----
You shook your head thinking of the memory. Axl had you do his chores and clean his room for a whole month. It was a nightmare. But at least he deleted the picture. There was a thought in the back of your mind that told you Axl had never truly planned on showing those boys the photo, but you didn't want to risk it.
You picked at your lunch, disappointed that you were sitting by yourself, since Sue was sick. You sighed, saddened that you were eating lunch alone. But, it could have been worse.
"Oh, wow, eating lunch alone? Ha! What a loser."
Nevermind. It just got as worse as it could get.
Axl took the seat across from you and set his lunch on the table. You had hoped when starting high school that you would have a different lunch than Axl, since he was an upperclassmen, but you were sadly mistaken. Since Axl was sitting with you, his other buddies Sean and Darrin, also decided to sit at your lunch table.
"Sue can't possibly be your only friend." He jokes, pointing his fork at you.
"God, can't you let me be a loser- ALONE?"
He shakes his head, "No, I like to bask in it. Makes me feel alive."
You roll your eyes and pick up your tray before leaving the cafeteria.
----
You sat on the step, before pushing out your dress, hoping your tears wouldn't ruin your makeup, but you were sure it was to late. You felt the water drip down your face and your face was slowly becoming soaked as the tear began to pour from your eyes. You had never felt so humilated by a man who you thought liked you.
You decided to push yourself up and just walk home. Sure, it was far, but it was better than staying at the dance where anyone could see you and laugh.
You walk on the rocky sidewalk, your heel suddenly breaking after getting caught in a hole, causing you to yell and take your heel off before throwing it. As if to make it worse, a car drives by, splashing you in muddy water.
"Aw dude- Fuck You!" You yell, before sighing and deciding it wasn't worth it. This had to be the worse night of your life...
"God, what happened to you?"
You groan when hearing the voice. You wish you had noticed his beaten down car pulling up, because you would have hidden in a bush or something.
"Hey- Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." You said quickly, picking up your pace.
"You sure don't look fine." He stops the car and opens the door causing you to finally look at him. He pats the seat, giving you a look that you knew meant he knew you wouldn't say no.
----
It was quiet as he drove, beside the occasional weird sound the old car made. You weren't sure what to say, since this was the nicest thing Axl had ever done for you.
He didn't ask you what happened, and you were happy about that. The last thing you needed was for him to laugh at you too. You were more than relieved when he pulled into your driveway. You quickly hop out and shut the door, but not before sighing and turning to him.
"Thanks.... Axl. I appreciate it."
He smiles, putting his head down, so he could look at you through the window. "Of course, Y/n. No girl as pretty as you should ever cry because of some asshole guy."
Before you could even question what he meant, he was driving off, leaving you cluelessly watching him. Pretty.... He said you were pretty. Maybe Axl wasn't that bad...
You were one of Sue’s long time best friends. The Heck family basically watched as you grew up. they watched you fall, they watched you cry, they’ve seen far more embarrassing things that even your family hadn’t seen.
It was Junior Prom and everyone had a date except for you and Sue.
”It’s okay!” sue said enthusiastically. “We can be each other’s date!”
”That’s a great idea, we can even have matching dresses! Yours can be pink and mine will be (fav color)!” You said with a huge smile. You grabbed your magazine and with Sue you two began to browse.
“This one is gorgeous!” She exclaimed pointing at the floor length gown.
”You have such a good eye!” You giggled.
If only you could stop time right there…
The next day you went back to the Heck residence.
”Hey Axl,” you smiled bashfully. You would never admit this to Sue but you had such a big crush on Axl since the 8th grade. Something about his jock, bad boy, long hair, aura made you want to kiss him.
”Hi,” he said nonchalantly. He grabbed a bag of chips and walked to his bedroom. You sighed defeatedly. You had been droppings hint to Axl that you want him to ask you yet he either ignored it or didn’t notice it.
”You should just ask him,” Brick said walking past you.
”What?!” You exclaimed nervously , “what would I ask him?”
”Everyone except for Axl knows. My mom and dad have a bet going on to see how long it takes for you to finally tell Axl,” Brick said nonchalantly.
”I’m not very good at hiding it am I?” You sighed.
”Nope! Even Sue knows, she just won’t say anything.” He grabbed his book before walking back to his bedroom.
You sat on the couch defeatedly, so everyone knew how hopelessly in love you are. “Idiot,” you mumbled.
Sue walked in the house squealing like a fangirl.
”Sue?” You said rushing towards her.
”Guess who just asked me to prom!” She asked. Your expression dropped.
”Who?” You asked trying not to sound disappointed.
”Darrin!” She squealed. You knew how much she liked Darrin and you always wanted to support your friends.
”That’s great!” You smiled and held her hands.
”I know! I’m so excited!” She jumped around causing her mom to walk out of her room.
”What’s all this noise?” She asked.
”Darrin just asked me to the prom!” Sue squealed excitedly.
You watched as Frankie’s expression drop, “What about (Y/n)?”
The realization hit Sue and she looked at you with an apologetic look.
”I’ll call Darrin and tell him I can’t go with him,” she tried to keep her optimistic expression but you knew deep down that she wanted to go with Darrin and not with you.
“It’s okay, go with Darrin. I insist you go with Darrin,” you smiled holding her hands again.
”Really?” She asked and you nodded.
”I know how much you wanted Darrin to ask you and I would be a terrible friend if I robbed you from it.” You smiled. Even though deep down you were sad and disappointed. “But, this means you have to get a pretty and unique dress for prom!”
”OMG! You are so right! We should go dress shopping! The three of us!” Sue excitedly said jumping up and down.
”Yeah! We have to pick the prettiest dresses!” You smiled clapping your hands.
”Can you take us mom? Please!!” Sue begged.
”Okay, okay. I’ll take you two dress shopping,” she smiled. You and Sue squealed in excitement and rushed to her bedroom to do more magazine looking.
The day finally came and Mrs. Heck took the two of you dress shopping. You three went to at least ten different shops and tried on at least 30 dresses per store.
“I hate this one!” She exclaimed rushing back to the fitting room.
”You looked adorable!” Frankie shouted only to get a frustrated grunt from Sue.
You stepped out wearing a floor length (color) dress.
“Oh. My. God. You look absolutely gorgeous in that!” She said watching as you did a small runway walk.
”I love this one so much!” You smiled excitedly. “It’s in my budget too!”
“It is so gorgeous!” Mrs. Heck gave you a wide smile.
”I’m getting it,” you said walking back to your fitting room. Sue tried on three more dresses before finding the perfect dress for her. She couldn’t stop twirling and bowing like a princess. You check dress shopping off your list.
Prom night arrived and still you didn’t have a date. You put on your best smile and walked to Sue’s house. You saw Darrin’s car parked on their driveway and you felt a sick feeling in your stomach. It dawned on you that you’re a third wheel. You stopped outside the front door and debated wether you should go in or not. You sighed and walked in.
”(Y/n)! You’re here!” Sue exclaimed happily walking up to you.
”I sure am!” You smiled happily.
”You two look gorgeous!” Mrs. Heck smiled. She pulled out the camera and took pictures of you and Sue, Sue alone, Sue and Darrin, and the three of you. The sick feeling never left your stomach.
”Let me get one if you (Y/n),” Mrs. Heck smiled. You awkwardly stood there as Mrs. Heck took a picture. You couldn’t help but feel sad. You’re going to be the only one there without a date, you’ll be third wheeling with your childhood best friend. “You look beautiful.”
You smiled at her the best you could.
”We should get going!” Sue said happily grabbing your hand.
”Actually, I think I’ll drive myself to prom,” you smiled. “You and Darrin deserve a grand entrance!”
“Are you sure?” Sue asked and you nodded.
”I insist,” you smiled holding her hand again. She smiled at you, waved good bye to her mom wand excitedly walked with Darrin.
”Do you want a ride?” Frankie asked and you shook your head.
”My dad left the nice car for me, I’ll make my grand entrance,” you smiled at her. “I should get going or I’ll be late and not the cool kind of late.”
”I want a lot of pictures,” Frankie smiled and you nodded. You walked out of the house and stood on their porch. You began to walk back home and the tears began to fall. You couldn’t help it at the point. You couldn’t help but feel defeated. Even though you suggested it you wished that maybe Sue would come back, ditch Darrin, and go to the prom with you. You arrived at home and realized you didn’t have your house keys. You repeatedly knocked on the door before realizing your moms car was gone.
You sighed defeatedly once more. You began to walk to school. You and Sue used to walk together but now she gets a ride from her brother or her boyfriend. The tears began to fall again. You were happy for Sue yet you felt like you were missing out.
The heels began to hurt your feet. You stopped and took them off.
“Stupid heels,” you whispered. You hated the concrete floors and the sound your feet made when it hit the floor. After 15 minutes you arrived at school. You watched as the couples entered the building with huge smiles on their faces.
You put on your heels and walked inside the building. You looked around and saw Sue happily dancing with Darrin, a smile crept to your face. You walked around a little and watched the couples.
You walked to the desert table and grabbed a cupcake. You walked around again, a slow song began to play as the couples began to dance with each other.
Your heart dropped, you were alone. In a sea of couples you were by yourself. You felt tears again, you walked out of the gym and outside the building. No one was outside except for you.
You slumped down on the steps, you wanted to cry but you didn’t want to seem weak. You didn’t want someone to see you and laugh at you.
”Why aren’t you inside?” You heard that familiar voice. Axl. You quickly wiped away the tears before looking up.
”It was too crowded, I needed some air,” you smiled.
”Then why are you crying?” He asked. You looked away and shrugged.
”I wasn’t crying, something got in my eye and I was trying to take it out,” you mumbled.
”I can tell when you’re sad. We basically grew up together,” he said extending his hand. “You shouldn’t be out here on prom.”
You looked at him confused but held his hand anyway. You noticed his tux and smiled.
”Did your mom send you?” You asked.
”Yes and no,” he said.
”Yes and no?” You questioned and he nodded.
“I wanted to come, I just didn’t know if you wanted me to go. You and Sue were going so I thought it would be awkward for me to go to prom with my sister, then stupid Darrin asked her to prom. I just didn’t know how to ask you.” He explained and you felt your face heat up. “And then my mom told me to go, she said you looked sad and wanted me to go and cheer you up.”
”Tell your mom I said thanks,” you smiled and he nodded. You two walked back inside. Luckily the DJ was playing one more slow song.
”Can I have this dance?” He asked and you nodded. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. You felt like you finally weren’t alone. Like finally, you felt alive, you felt noticed, you felt like yourself again. Even though prom was short and not as magical as you expected it to be, you still had such a good time.
Could you write where Axel heck from the middle really likes the reader but is scared to introduce her to his family because he knows how they can be, sorryy if it’s not good
masterlist | main masterlist
contains: fluff
axl heck x fem!reader
you can tell something’s up by the way he won’t meet your eyes.
axel’s been weird all day. not in a bad way, just...fidgety. quieter than usual. he kept messing with the strings on his hoodie during your movie night, barely touched his popcorn, and now he’s walking you to your car with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, like he’s trying to keep them from giving something away.
“so,” he says, rocking back on his heels. “i was thinking…maybe, like, you could come over sometime.”
you pause, fingers tightening around your keys. “yeah?” you ask gently. “i thought you said your house was a ‘war zone of chaos and canned food.’”
he snorts, but it sounds more nervous than amused. “yeah, well. that hasn’t changed.”
you wait, giving him time.
he sighs, shoulders slumping a little. “okay, look. i really like you. like, a stupid amount. and my family- they’re…a lot.” he glances at you, eyes sincere and a little vulnerable. “my mom’s probably gonna yell at someone. my dad’ll ask you super weird questions about, like, tire pressure or beef jerky. sue will definitely tell some story from middle school that ruins my life. and my brother’s... he’s just brick.”
you try not to laugh, but it slips out, warm and breathy. “that sounds kind of fun.”
“it’s not,” he says flatly, but the corner of his mouth lifts. “i just don’t want you to think i’m, like...completely hopeless after meeting them.”
you step closer, nudging your shoulder against his. “i already know what you’re like, axel heck.”
he blinks. “is that a good thing?”
you smile. “it’s a ‘yes, i’ll come over’ thing.”
he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years, grinning in that lopsided, goofy way that always makes your stomach flip. “cool. cool cool cool. i’ll tell them not to be weird.”
“you know that won’t work, right?”
“nope,” he says, slipping his fingers through yours. “but hey - if you survive sunday dinner, i think that means we’re basically married.”
you laugh again, and he looks so pleased with himself, like you just gave him the world. like maybe, despite the mess and the noise and the sheer heck-ness of it all, you might just be the calm in the middle of it.
You're oneshots with Neteyam were sooo good and because of the fact, that I'm SO exited for Avatar 3, I'd like to make a little story request:
Reader grew up with the Sully family and is Neteyam's mate - but also Loak's best friend. She was always the person, who listened to Loak's insecurities, which made her to one of his most important people in his life.
Reader always stood between both brothers, whenever Neteyam was angry with Loak, and wanted to beat his ass.
When the Sully's and Reader moved to the Metkaiyna village, the brother-sister bond between Loak and Reader grew stronger during the time. Neteyam never had a problem with that and was happy, that his brother had someone to lean on (besides Tsireya). Neteyam's only fear was, that Reader will become sooner or later the victim of one of Loak's actions.
Which lead to the moment, that instead of Neteyam, Reader was shot and died.
After her death, Neteyam became a completely new person and gave Loak the blame for her death.
Your request is really creative !! I hope this will fulfill what you imagined and that you'll like it !! By far my longest one shot !!
Echoes of her Heart
✮ Summary : Request above ↑
✮ Pairing : Neteyam x mate!reader (feat : Lo'ak)
✮ Contains : Fluff, Angst, no happy ending
✮ Word Count : 6.5K
The sounds of youthful laughter and playful shouts echoed through the towering Hometree. It was an afternoon much like any other, filled with the boundless energy of the Sully children and their constant companion, you.
"You cheated, Lo'ak!" Neteyam's voice, already deepening with adolescence, boomed with mock outrage. His hands were braced on his hips, a clear challenge in his eyes.
Lo'ak, ever the mischievous one, merely grinned, a smudge of dirt across his cheek. "Did not! You're just slow, brother."
Before Neteyam could retaliate, you stepped between them, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. "Alright, you two. Break it up before you attract your mom's attention. You know how she gets."
Neteyam's scowl softened as he looked at you, and Lo'ak, though he still looked defiant, didn't push it further. You had a way of diffusing their squabbles that no one else did. Neteyam often found himself thinking about how effortlessly you navigated their chaotic dynamic, a quiet strength that always seemed to ground them. You were always there, a steady presence, whether mediating their fights or listening to Lo'ak's endless stream of worries and insecurities that he rarely shared with anyone else. You understood him in a way Neteyam sometimes struggled to.
Later that evening, as the family gathered for their meal, the conversation drifted, as it often did, to the future. Jake was recounting a hunting trip, while Neytiri spoke of the lessons she'd given Kiri and Tuk.
Neteyam, still a little flushed from the day's play, looked across at you, where you sat nestled between Kiri and Lo'ak, sharing a quiet joke. A warmth spread through his chest, a feeling he was becoming increasingly familiar with. Without truly thinking, the words slipped from his lips, quiet but clear enough for his parents to hear, "One day, Y/n will be my mate."
Jake and Neytiri exchanged a glance, a soft, knowing smile appearing on Neytiri's face. Jake simply chuckled, a fond glint in his eyes. They had watched you grow up alongside their children, observed the easy way you fit into their lives, and the undeniable bond you shared with Neteyam. There was no surprise, only a quiet understanding.
Years passed, marked by growth and change. Neteyam, now a strong and capable warrior, found his thoughts consumed more and more by you. The playful camaraderie of childhood had matured into a deep affection, a bond that felt ancient and unbreakable. He knew, with a certainty that resonated in his very bones, that you were meant to be his.
One evening, under the sprawling branches of the Hometree, bathed in the soft glow of bioluminescent flora, Neteyam found the courage to speak the words that had been brewing in his heart for so long.
He found you near the family's sleeping hammocks, gazing up at the starlit canopy. "Y/n," he began, his voice a little rough with nerves.
You turned, your eyes, always so perceptive, instantly sensing his seriousness. "Neteyam?"
He took a deep breath, the scent of the forest filling his lungs. "You... you have been with us always. You are part of my family, part of me. There is no one else... no one I would rather stand beside, no one I would rather build a life with." He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "Y/n, will you be my mate?"
Your eyes widened, a flicker of surprise, then a slow, radiant smile spread across your face. It was a smile that made Neteyam's heart leap. "Yes, Neteyam," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Yes, I will."
He pulled you into a fierce, joyous embrace, burying his face in your hair. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you, bathed in the soft light of the forest, sealed in a promise that felt as old as Pandora itself.
When they shared the news with Jake and Neytiri, there was no hesitation, only profound happiness. Neytiri pulled you into a warm hug, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "We have always considered you our daughter, Y/n. To see our son so happy... there is no greater joy." Jake clapped Neteyam on the shoulder, a wide, proud smile on his face. "You chose well, son. Very well."
The air crackled with tension, the roar of gunships and the screams of the dying a horrifying symphony of destruction. The forest, once a sanctuary, was now a battleground. Neteyam, his heart heavy with the weight of the war, fought alongside his family, a fierce protector.
He saw Lo'ak, his younger brother, a whirlwind of youthful defiance, pushing too far, always too far. "Lo'ak! Stay with me!" Neteyam yelled, his voice strained over the din of battle.
But Lo'ak, ever impulsive, had an idea, a reckless plan that could easily cost him his life. Neteyam saw it, the dangerous glint in his brother's eyes, and in a split second, he knew what he had to do. As Lo'ak dashed forward, intending to draw fire or create a diversion, Neteyam lunged, pulling him back just as a burst of automatic fire ripped through the air where Lo'ak had been.
"What were you thinking?!" Neteyam roared, pushing Lo'ak roughly behind him, shielding him from further danger. "You nearly got yourself killed! Again!"
The skirmish continued, brutal and unforgiving. When the dust settled, and the remaining Sky People retreated, Neteyam stood, chest heaving, his gaze fixed on Lo'ak. The blame, the responsibility for Lo'ak's recklessness, settled heavily on Neteyam's shoulders, a familiar burden. He had to protect his brother, even from himself.
The decision was made, a painful necessity. They had to leave, to seek refuge, to find a place where the Sky People could not follow. The Metkayina, the reef people, were their only hope.
The journey was long and arduous, the mood somber. As they prepared to depart, you stood beside Neteyam, your hand firmly in his.
"You're coming with us, of course," Jake said, his voice quiet.
You looked at him, then at Neteyam, your gaze unwavering. "Where Neteyam goes, I go. I am his mate. My place is with him, with my family."
Neteyam squeezed your hand, a silent thank you for your unwavering loyalty. He knew, deep in his heart, that you were the anchor that kept him steady, the light that guided him even in the darkest of times. The move to the Metkayina village would be a drastic change, a challenge they would face together. He just hoped they would be strong enough.
The transition to the Metkayina village was a jarring one. The sprawling, interconnected marui pods, the constant presence of the ocean, the swift, silent movements of the reef people – it was a world away from the dense, protective embrace of the forest. You, Neteyam, and Lo'ak found yourselves navigating this new reality, often with awkwardness and occasional frustration.
Neteyam, ever the dutiful son and brother, adapted quickly to the strictures of Metkayina life, eager to master the ways of the water. Lo'ak, however, struggled. His impulsive nature clashed with the calm discipline of the reef people, and his inability to seamlessly integrate often led to friction, especially with Neteyam.
"You're going to get yourself killed with that recklessness, Lo'ak!" Neteyam's voice, usually so composed, was laced with exasperation as they returned from another, less-than-successful, fishing expedition. Lo'ak had, once again, disregarded instructions, chasing a particularly large fish into dangerous currents.
Lo'ak scoffed, shaking his head, water dripping from his braids. "I almost had it! You're just too cautious, Neteyam. Sometimes you have to take a risk."
He sighed, a deep, contented sound. "Happier, now that the Sky People aren't hunting us every cycle. But it's... different. Everything is different." He turned to face you, his hand cupping your cheek. "But as long as I have you, Y/n, I can make it through anything."
You leaned into his touch, your heart swelling with love. "And I you, Neteyam."
He kissed your forehead, then your lips, a tender, lingering kiss that spoke volumes of his devotion. "Sometimes I worry about Lo'ak," he confessed, his brow furrowed. "He's so... lost out here. And his impulsiveness. I can't shake the feeling that he's going to get himself into trouble, and I won't be there to pull him out."
You squeezed his hand. "He's learning. He has you, Jake, and all of us. He'll find his way. And you won't always be there to shield him, Neteyam. He needs to learn to stand on his own."
Neteyam sighed, a reluctant nod. "I know. It's just... I feel responsible. Like it's my duty to protect him." He looked at you, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. "And you. More than anyone. My greatest fear is that something will happen to you."
You saw the shadow of the past in his eyes, the memory of that terrifying moment in the forest. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. "Neteyam, you can't protect me from everything. We are here, together, and that is what matters. We face the future, whatever it holds, side by side."
He pulled you closer, holding you tightly, as if to absorb your strength, to keep you safe within his embrace. In his mind, your unwavering presence was the one constant in a world that felt increasingly unpredictable. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that if anything ever happened to you, a part of him would die. He would never let that happen.
It had been moons since your family first sought refuge with the Metkayina clan, adapting to the ebb and flow of the ocean and the rhythm of your new lives. The salty air and the vast, shimmering expanse of the sea had become a second home, but even here, deep within the turquoise sanctuary of the reef, the shadow of the RDA loomed, a constant, chilling reminder of the world you’d left behind.
The discovery of Lo'ak's secret came to light during one tense evening meal in your family's marui pod. The usual sounds of the ocean, the gentle lapping of waves against the pillars, seemed to quiet as Tsireya, her brow furrowed with concern, spoke first. "Lo'ak... he has been meeting with Payakan." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it cut through the air like a knife.
Jake's head snapped up from his meal, his hand freezing with a piece of fish halfway to his mouth. "Payakan? The outcast?" His voice was a low rumble, instantly seizing the attention of everyone present, turning the air heavy with an unspoken tension.
Lo'ak, who had been uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn all evening, finally burst out, unable to hold his secret any longer. "He's not an outcast! He's just... different! And he's my brother!" His eyes, full of a fierce, desperate loyalty, pleaded for understanding, first to his parents, then sweeping across to Neteyam and you. He looked ready to argue, to defend Payakan until his last breath.
Neteyam, your mate, instinctively placed a calming hand on your arm as you start worrying about Lo’ak, his gaze fixed on his younger brother, a deep concern etched on his features. "Lo'ak, you know the stories. The Metkayina do not interact with Payakan. He's a renegade, a killer of his own kind. He's dangerous." His voice was firm, yet laced with an undeniable worry for his sibling.
"He saved my life!" Lo'ak retorted, his voice rising, a clear defiance in his tone. "You should have seen him. He's magnificent." He pounded a fist lightly on the woven mat beside him, the frustration and hurt evident in every line of his body. "You don't understand!"
The argument escalated quickly, Jake's booming voice joining Neytiri's, trying to assert his authority, to make Lo'ak understand the gravity of his actions. But Lo'ak, feeling cornered, misunderstood, and fiercely protective of his friend, did what he always did when things got too much – he bolted. With a splash, he was gone, disappearing into the twilight, leaving behind a stunned silence and the lingering echo of his defiance.
"Lo'ak! Get back here!" Neytiri's sharp call was lost to the wind and the gentle lapping of the waves as he vanished into the deepening dusk.
Jake sighed, running a hand over his face, a weariness settling into his features. "He's going to get himself killed. That fool kid."
Neteyam stood without hesitation, his expression hardening with a determined glint in his eyes. "We have to follow him. He's just a kid, he doesn't know what he's doing." His gaze found yours, a silent request, an unspoken need for you by his side. "Will you come?"
You nodded instantly, a surge of adrenaline already coursing through you. "Of course." There was no question in your mind; your place was by his side, especially when one of their own was in danger.
Tsireya, Tuk, Kiri, Aonung, and Rotxo were already on their feet, their faces a mix of worry and shared determination. Tsireya’s eyes were wide with fear for Lo'ak, while Kiri’s held a quiet, knowing concern. Aonung and Rotxo, despite their usual teasing, showed genuine apprehension. "We are coming too," Aonung stated, his voice firm. "He is one of us.”
The ride to find Lo'ak was tense, marked by the rhythmic beating of your ilu's wings, the gentle spray of the ocean on your faces, and the shared anxiety that hung heavy in the air. The bioluminescent waters beneath you, usually a source of peace and wonder, seemed to glow with an ominous warning. You flew alongside Neteyam, with Kiri and Tsireya close behind on their ilu, their forms gliding gracefully through the water, while Aonung and Rotxo cut through the waves on their skimwings, their expressions grim. Even little Tuk was with Tsireya, her small face pressed against Tsireya's back, her fear palpable.
After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only minutes, you spotted him – a lone, small figure in the vast expanse, swimming with a powerful urgency alongside the immense, dark form of Payakan. He was so far out, so exposed.
As you approached, your heart lurched in your chest, a cold dread seizing you. There, embedded in Payakan's massive flank, was a distinct, metallic glint, catching the faint starlight. An RDA tracker. It was unmistakable, alien, and horrifyingly familiar.
"He's got a tracker on him!" you shouted over the rush of the wind and water, your voice tight with alarm, the realization chilling you to the bone.
Neteyam's face hardened, his jaw clenching, a flash of pure fury in his eyes. "They're hunting him." He got off his ilu swiftly, sending a spray of water as he jumped into the ocean, already swimming towards Payakan. You followed suit, your own ilu swimming nearby, patiently awaiting your return. Kiri, Tsireya, Tuk, Aonung, and Rotxo quickly joined you, their faces reflecting your shared horror.
"They'll find us all if this stays on him!" Neteyam grunted, pulling at it with no success. "It's in deep!"
The tracker was more deeply embedded than you anticipated, firmly lodged within Payakan's thick hide. As Neteyam and you worked frantically, your fingers raw against the cold, unyielding metal, trying to pry it loose, a low, ominous thrumming vibrated through the water. It was a sound that made your scales prickle, a deep, mechanical hum that could only mean one thing.
"Do you hear that?" you whispered, your eyes scanning the horizon, dread creeping in like an icy wave.
Neteyam looked up, his face grim, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, now illuminated by faint, searching lights. "RDA. They're coming. Fast."
The sound grew louder, a mechanical growl that promised destruction and disruption, closer with every passing second. Panic began to set in, a cold, suffocating wave washing over you. Aonung and Rotxo started pulling too, their strength added to yours, while Kiri and Tsireya tried to soothe Lo'ak and Tuk. You pulled harder, putting all your strength into it, ignoring the pain in your fingers, the desperate urgency spurring you on. Finally, with a sharp, sickening crack that echoed in the silent terror of the moment, the tracker came free. You held it up for a moment, a useless piece of human technology, before letting it sink into the dark depths, hoping it would vanish forever.
"Go! Go!" Neteyam urged, pushing Lo'ak forward, his voice strained. "Swim! Get back to the ilus! Now!"
You plunged back into the water, swimming with all your might, every muscle burning, the sheer terror of the approaching ship fueling your strokes. The familiar forms of your skimwings above you felt like a distant hope. The thrumming grew into a deafening roar, and the monstrous silhouette of an RDA ship became terrifyingly visible on the horizon, its blinding searchlights cutting through the darkness, sweeping closer and closer, illuminating the churning water around you.
You swam until your lungs burned, until your muscles ached with exhaustion, Neteyam's strong hand on Lo'ak's back, pushing him forward. He kept his younger brother between you, a shield against the encroaching threat. But the RDA were fast, their pursuit relentless and unforgiving. The beam of a searchlight caught you, blinding you for a moment.
Suddenly, a massive, heavy net exploded into the water, thrown with terrifying precision. It enveloped Lo'ak, Tsireya, and Tuk, pulling them instantly. You cried out, the shock and cold realization hitting you as you saw them ensnared. You were just out of reach, still in the water, clinging to Neteyam. You watched in horror as the net pulled them higher and higher out of the water, towards the gaping, dark belly of the RDA ship. Tsireya and Tuk clung to each other, their small faces pale with abject fear, their cries piercing the night. Lo'ak thrashed wildly, screaming, "No! Let us go!"
You could hear Neteyam's guttural roar, a sound of pure rage and despair as his siblings were hoisted away. "No!"
Without a second thought, you and Neteyam surged forward, climbing back onto your waiting ilu. Kiri, Aonung, and Rotxo were swimming away behind you, their faces grim, their resolve hardened. You propelled your ilu through the churning water, towards the monstrous silhouette of the RDA ship. It was a leviathan of metal and death, but your family was on it.
You circled the ship, the thrumming of its engines vibrating through the water, looking for an opening. Luck, or perhaps a moment of overconfidence from the RDA, was on your side. Several soldiers had their backs turned, focused on securing the net and its captives. This was your chance.
"Now!" Neteyam hissed.
You beached your ilu silently against the ship's massive hull, finding a foothold. With practiced grace, you and Neteyam scrambled up the cold, unforgiving metal. Every shadow was a potential hiding spot, every piece of machinery a potential cover. You moved like ghosts, silent and swift, until you found them.
Lo'ak, Tsireya, and Tuk were now secured to a metal barrier on the deck, their hands bound, their eyes wide with terror and relief at seeing you. A soldier stood guard, his back to Neteyam.
Neteyam moved first, a blur of blue. He disarmed the soldier with brutal efficiency, knocking him unconscious with a swift, powerful blow. You were right behind him, cutting the binds on Tsireya and Tuk, pulling them into a tight hug. Neteyam quickly freed Lo'ak.
"Go! Get to the edge! Get back to the water!" Neteyam commanded, pushing Tsireya and Tuk towards the side.
But as Lo'ak's binds came free, his eyes darted past Neteyam, past you, to something deeper within the ship. "Spider!" he gasped. "He's in there!"
Before Neteyam could react, Lo'ak bolted, a wild, desperate energy propelling him into the ship's interior.
"Lo'ak!" Neteyam roared, a primal sound of fear and frustration, taking off after his brother.
You followed without hesitation, your heart pounding. You caught up to Neteyam as he reached Lo'ak his eyes were still fixed on the unseen depths of the ship.
"Lo'ak, stop!" Neteyam grabbed him, trying to pull him back, his voice a desperate plea. "We have to go! We have to get you out of here, now!"
"No! Not without Spider!" Lo'ak struggled against Neteyam's grip, his resolve unyielding. "They'll kill him, Neteyam! He's family!"
Neteyam looked from Lo'ak's pleading, pain-filled eyes to the dark corridor ahead. You could see the internal battle, the conflict between protecting his brother and Lo'ak's fierce loyalty. A groan of resignation escaped him. "Damn it, Lo'ak," he muttered, but his grip loosened, and he finally gave in.
He glanced at you, a silent message passing between you. You knew the risk, the sheer madness of it, but you also knew there was no stopping them now. You stepped forward, your expression firm. "I'm coming with you."
Neteyam started to protest, "No, you need to—" but you cut him off, shaking your head. "I'm not leaving you. Not now."
He paused, a flicker of understanding and acceptance in his eyes. "Alright," he finally conceded, his voice heavy with grim determination. "But you stay behind me. Both of you."
Without another word, the three of you plunged deeper into the cold, metallic heart of the RDA ship, the unknown dangers awaiting you. The fight for Spider's life, and your own, had just begun.
The metallic corridors of the RDA ship hummed with the oppressive weight of technology, the distant sounds of the battle raging outside a grim backdrop to your desperate search. Every shadow felt alive with threat, every turn a potential ambush. Neteyam moved with a predator's grace, his movements economical, his eyes constantly scanning. Lo'ak, despite his wound, pushed forward with fierce determination, driven by the singular goal of finding Spider. You were right behind Neteyam, your senses heightened, an arrow nocked, ready for anything.
They found Spider in a makeshift cell, behind a reinforced window. His face was streaked with dirt, his expression a mix of terror and grim defiance. His eyes widened in disbelief and relief when he saw them.
"Spider!" Lo'ak cried, rushing forward, a new surge of energy overriding his pain.
Neteyam quickly disabled the lock, and Spider stumbled out, throwing himself into Lo'ak's arms. "Lo'ak! You came back!"
"Of course, I came back, you idiot!" Lo'ak laughed, a choked, tearful sound, gripping his friend tightly.
"We need to go, now," you urged, pulling at Neteyam's arm, your eyes darting nervously towards the sounds of approaching soldiers. The reunion, however brief, was a dangerous luxury.
They moved quickly, a tight unit now, Spider nimble despite his fear, Lo'ak grimacing but pushing through. They had to find a way out, and fast. The ship was a death trap. They rounded another corner, the sounds of battle growing closer, and then, a light. An opening.
"Look!" Spider pointed, his voice hoarse. A large section of the hull had been ruptured, likely by Payakan's attacks or a skimwing's charge. It was a jagged hole, leading directly to the churning, moonlit water below. A terrifying but tempting escape.
"That's our way out," Neteyam said, his eyes scanning the corridor behind them. The thud of boots was growing louder, accompanied by the distinct metallic click of weapons being readied. "They're almost here."
"I'll cover you," Neteyam said, turning to face the approaching soldiers, his bow drawn, his stance firm. "Go! Both of you! Don't look back!"
Lo'ak hesitated for a second, looking at his brother, then at you. But Neteyam's command was absolute. "Go, Lo'ak! Now!"
"Be careful!" Lo'ak yelled, then with a desperate leap, he plunged through the hole, a splash echoing up. Spider followed instantly, a flash of human skin disappearing into the dark water.
You turned to Neteyam, your heart pounding. "Your turn," you urged, but your eyes caught a movement in the corridor behind him. An RDA soldier, faster than the others, had just rounded the corner, his rifle raising, aiming directly at Neteyam.
"Neteyam!" you screamed, your voice tearing with raw terror.
He turned, saw the soldier, and his eyes met yours for a fraction of a second – a shared understanding, a desperate love. He was already launching himself towards the hole. But he was too slow. The soldier's finger tightened on the trigger.
Without a second thought, driven by an instinct so primal it bypassed all logic, you lunged. You threw yourself forward, slamming into Neteyam as he pushed off the edge, effectively using your body as a shield. The crack of the rifle shot was deafening, a searing pain exploding in your chest, just as Neteyam tumbled into the water below.
You felt the cold, hard impact of the water, the initial shock of the wound, a gasp tearing from your throat. Your body protested, screaming with agony, but your mind held on, forcing your limbs to move. You had to get to Neteyam, to them. You pushed, fighting against the crushing pain in your chest, the water around you beginning to cloud with a sickly red.
"Neteyam!" you choked out, your voice weak, struggling to keep your head above the churning water.
Neteyam surfaced, gasping for air, scanning frantically for Lo'ak and Spider, then for you. "Lo'ak! Spider! Are you okay?" he shouted, his voice hoarse.
"Neteyam! Over here!" Lo'ak's voice, relieved but strained, answered from a short distance away. Spider was beside him, both treading water.
Neteyam swam towards them, his heart pounding with a desperate relief. Then he heard your faint, pained cry. "Y/n?" He spun, his eyes frantically searching the turbulent water, dread coiling in his gut.
He saw you, struggling, your movements sluggish, a dark, spreading stain blooming sickeningly on the front of your chest, mingling with the blood in the water.
"NO. NO, NO, NO!" he screamed, his voice raw with pure terror, the sound tearing from his very soul. He thrashed through the water, reaching you in a few powerful strokes. He grabbed you, pulling you close, his hands pressing futilely against the gushing wound.
"Y/n! What have you done?! Why?!" His voice was choked with sobs, tears streaming down his face, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Just then, a beacon of hope appeared. Tsireya, riding her ilu, emerged from the chaos, but she was not alone. Behind her, several other Metkayina warriors on their ilu followed, a swift, silent rescue party. Kiri and Tuk clung to one of the warriors, safe but terrified.
Tsireya, her own face streaked with grime and tears, but alive, quickly guided her ilu towards them, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of your bleeding form in Neteyam's arms. "Neteyam! Give her to me!"
Neteyam carefully transferred you to Tsireya's waiting ilu, climbing onto its back behind you, cradling you against him, his hands still pressed desperately against your chest. Lo'ak and Spider scrambled onto another ilu Tsireya directed towards them, their gazes fixed on you, silent, terrified.
They made for a large, flat rock that broke the surface a short distance from the ship, far from the roaring battle and the threat of the RDA. Neteyam gently laid you down, his hands trembling violently, the rock cold beneath your rapidly fading warmth. Your breathing was shallow, ragged, a faint rattle in your chest.
"Stay with me, Y/n," he pleaded, his voice thick with unbridled grief, his eyes burning into yours. "Don't you dare close your eyes. Please! Stay with me!"
You looked at him, your eyes glazed but still holding a flicker of your inherent calm, a profound love. You knew. You knew this was the end. You raised a trembling hand, tracing the line of his jaw, the touch feather-light.
"Neteyam," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a thin, airy sound. "My mate... my love... always." A small, sad smile touched your lips. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I couldn't... I couldn't let him... let them... lose you. Not again. Not after everything." You glanced at Lo'ak, who was now openly weeping, buried in Tsireya's arms, and then at Spider, his face pale with shock. "Be strong for them. All of them. Keep them safe."
His tears poured over your face as he desperately clung to your hand. "No! Don't talk like that! You're going to be fine! We'll get you back, we'll fix this, just stay with me!" His voice was a broken plea, a denial against the inevitable.
Just then, Jake and Neytiri arrived, riding their ikrans, their faces grim from the battle, but quickly turning to horror as they saw the scene on the rock. Neytiri let out a choked cry, collapsing beside you, her hands joining Neteyam's, her own fierce efforts to stop the bleeding proving futile.
Jake knelt too, his face a mask of profound grief, unable to speak, simply placing a heavy hand on Neteyam's shoulder.
You focused on Neteyam, your gaze unwavering, a profound peace settling over you as the pain began to recede, replaced by a cold numbness. "Lo'ak... tell him... tell him I always believed in him. Always." Your voice was fading, weaker with each word. "And Neteyam... my Neteyam... thank you. For everything. For choosing me."
A single, silent tear tracked from the corner of your eye as your breath hitched, a final, ragged gasp. Your eyes, still fixed on Neteyam's, lost their light, the vibrant spark dimming, then extinguishing. Your hand, still clutching his, went limp.
"NOOOOOO!" Neteyam screamed, a guttural, primal roar of agony and despair that tore through the night, echoing across the water, a testament to a love shattered, a future lost. He clutched your lifeless body to him, rocking back and forth, his world irrevocably broken. Lo'ak's sobs grew louder, mixing with Neytiri's mournful wails. The battle still raged in the distance, but on that small, dark rock, only the sound of a broken heart truly mattered.
The screams of battle still echoed faintly from the distant RDA ship, but on the small, isolated rock, the only sound that mattered was the guttural, raw cry of pure agony that tore from Neteyam's chest. He clutched your lifeless body, rocking you gently, desperately, as if his embrace could somehow rekindle the warmth that had so suddenly, so cruelly, left you. His face was contorted in a silent scream, tears a hot torrent down his cheeks, mingling with the blood that still stained your chest.
Neytiri wailed, a sound of profound, maternal anguish, her hands covering her mouth, her body swaying in grief. Jake knelt beside Neteyam, his own face ashen, his strong hand resting heavily on his eldest son's shoulder, a silent testament to a pain too deep for words. Lo'ak, still in Tsireya's arms, was shaking uncontrollably, his youthful sobs tearing from his throat, a stark contrast to Neteyam's desolate, terrifying silence that followed his initial scream. Kiri sat huddled, her eyes wide and unseeing, as if trying to process a horror too vast for her understanding. Tuk, nestled against Tsireya's side, whimpered, instinctively sensing the profound loss.
"Y/n," Neytiri whispered, her voice cracking, reaching out to gently touch your hair. "My daughter. Gone."
Neteyam didn't respond to her. He didn't even seem to breathe. His entire being was focused on the unbearable emptiness where your vibrant spirit had been moments before. The protective, steady warrior, the grounding force for his family, was utterly shattered. It was as if the very light in his own eyes had been extinguished with your last breath. His gaze, vacant and haunted, flickered from your still face to Lo'ak, who was weeping uncontrollably, still cradled by Tsireya. A cold, hard glint entered Neteyam's eyes, hardening into an icy resolve.
The decision was made, silently, sorrowfully. They had to leave this place, this scene of unspeakable tragedy. Carefully, gently, Jake and Neytiri helped Neteyam transfer your body onto one of the Metkayina ilu. Neteyam refused to release you, cradling you against him even as the ilu began its somber journey back to the village. His gaze was fixed on your still face, his expression now less numb and more a terrible, burning anger.
The return journey was a silent, agonizing procession. The moon, once a source of comfort, now seemed to mock their grief, casting a cold, indifferent light on their despair. The bioluminescent waters, usually vibrant with life, felt like a swirling abyss beneath them, mirroring the void in Neteyam's soul. Lo'ak, perched on an ilu with Tsireya, kept glancing back at his brother, tears still silently falling, but now laced with a growing fear. He could feel the weight of Neteyam's burning gaze, a physical manifestation of the blame settling between them.
Back at the village, the news spread like a chill wind. The reef people, who had opened their homes to the forest family, now shared in their sorrow. There was no celebratory return from battle, only the grim reality of loss.
Neteyam moved like a ghost. He carried you, refusing help, to the traditional burial ground, a quiet, sacred place where the Metkayina mourned their dead. He laid you down himself, his hands trembling, his touch impossibly gentle.
The funeral was a quiet, heartbreaking affair, a blend of forest and reef traditions, honoring both your origins and your adopted home. Neytiri sang a low, mournful chant, her voice thick with tears, a lament for the daughter she had loved as her own. Jake stood stoic, but his eyes, usually so strong, were filled with a profound sorrow, watching his son, who seemed to have transformed before their very eyes.
Neteyam remained by your side, long after the others had paid their respects. He barely acknowledged anyone, his gaze fixed on your form, a silent vigil that stretched into the night. When they finally coaxed him away, he was a hollow shell, but with a dangerous edge.
In the days that followed, a chilling, profound silence settled over Neteyam. He spoke little, ate less, and slept fitfully, if at all. His usual steady leadership, his calm patience, had been replaced by a quiet, simmering rage that burned beneath the surface. He trained relentlessly, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, as if punishing his own body for failing to protect you, for failing to stop what had happened. His eyes, once warm and clear, now held a haunted, distant look, shadowed by the memory of your final smile, your last, selfless act.
He stopped looking at Lo'ak directly. When Lo'ak tried to approach him, to offer a whispered apology, to share his own overwhelming guilt, Neteyam would simply turn his back, or walk away without a word. If their eyes met, Lo'ak saw not grief, but a cold, condemning fury. The unspoken accusation hung heavy in the air between them, a poisonous wedge driven deep into their brotherhood. This is your fault.
The family watched him, helpless. They had lost you, their quiet strength, their mediator. But in losing you, they had also, in a way, lost the Neteyam they knew. The older brother, the loyal son, the devoted mate – he was still there, physically, but the light within him, that gentle, grounded spirit you had nurtured, had been extinguished. He walked among them, a constant, painful reminder of the sacrifice you had made, and the void you had left behind. His journey, once guided by duty and love, now seemed to be steering him down a darker, more solitary path, driven only by the crushing weight of his loss and the corrosive burden of his blame towards his younger brother. The rift between the Sully brothers, once just petty squabbles, had widened into an unbridgeable chasm.
📝 neteyam always finds an excuse to end up at the hands of the olo’eyktan’s daughter.
part two
Neteyam had to keep his composure.
Neteyam had to set his mind straight.
This wasn’t about you. This was about his people, his clan— his family. But keeping that in mind was impossible when the thought of you brought warmth to his cheeks and stopped his heart. You weren’t a warrior, though a simple polish of your skills could just as easily make you one. You were a healer, a tsakarem under the tsahik, your mother. Whenever one was injured, you had always been there to tend to them, the hut practically became your second home.
The first time Neteyam had seen you, he swore his heart stopped. His breath hitched as he took the sight in. Standing beside Ronal, your head tilted in curiosity as you watched the Sullies— your hair cascading in waves reminiscent of your home, adorned with a few braids that swept the hair from your face. Around your chest, fibers wrapped around one another in shades of blue, the shells and pearls glimmering under the soft sun. To Neteyam, you looked like an angel sent from Eywa herself.
That was when you noticed him— eyes blown and lips parted in awe. He realized you had caught him staring. You smiled softly at him, your hand coming up to gesture a wave. He snapped out of his trance then, giving you a nod as he smiled back. You saw his mother, Neytiri, nudge his side gently, his posture straightening as if he had remembered his duties. When you hadn’t been the one to help the Sullies adapt, his shoulders slumped slightly in disappointment, a frown hiding behind his stoic demeanor.
Before Tsireya had stepped away from his new home, he had stopped her.
“Tsireya?” Neteyam stammered.
“Yes?” She perked immediately, beaming her usual smile.
“The girl,” he started. “Next to your mother,”
“That is my sister,” she replied. “Y/N.”
“Oh,” he breathed, smiling as he let her leave.
He stayed where he was, testing your name in his mouth— once, twice, enough that it etched into every fibre of his being, the picture of you occupying his mind like a parasite. And yet, he wasn’t complaining. Instead, he was plotting.
The next days passed in a blur. He saw you occasionally, passing by, at supper, or whenever he had the chance to sneak glances at you as if his eyes were craving the sight of you already.
Under the waters, he had been training alongside his family. That was when his plan went into action. Within the few days he was there, he had already familiarized himself with the shores, knowing which jagged, sharp-edged rocks to avoid. And yet, he had still made his way toward it, his thigh grazing it not enough to be fatal, but just enough that the draw of blood stung him.
Within minutes, he had been brought to your hut, your head raising to assess the indigo figure who was softly limping.
“Sister, he is injured,” Tsireya said as she guided him to sit in front of you.
“It’s nothing, really,” Neteyam muttered, though the slight hiss in his tone was traitorous.
“Neteyam,” you urged, shuffling closer to check his wound, a deep scratch no longer than a finger on his thigh.
Your hair was different that day, swept up in a ponytail as a few soft strands still splayed across your face. He watched as you checked his wound, fingers gently grazing the area. Tsireya had left by then, leaving only two figures in the hut.
“So,” Neteyam whispered.
“Not bad, forest boy,” you quipped, shooting him a gentle grin as you reached behind to grab some herbs. Your hands moved with precision, face focused as you grinded them, the smell sharp on his nose. His eyes never left your figure, glued onto every movement, every twitch, every move you made. He watched your face, your eyes, your lips, how they held a soft pout as you continued your duties.
You hadn’t even raised your head, hands still moving like muscle memory when you felt it— his eyes on you.
“You’re staring,” you said.
Heat crawled up his cheeks, a hint of purple across his face.
“I—” he stammered, “You are a good healer, is all.”
“You should learn to be better at hiding it,” you shot, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “You have a habit of staring at me when you could just speak. I do not bite.”
“Oh,” he breathed, embarrassed that he let himself slip. “Sorry,”
“It’s okay,”
That was when you faced him, leaning in closer to apply the paste as you let out a soft laugh. His ears perked at the sound, biting his cheek to contain himself.
“Tell me if it hurts,” you whispered, your hands an inch away from his skin as he breathed out a small yeah.
He let out a small hiss as the cold paste touched his wound. You felt him stiffen under your fingers. When you had finished, wrapping a small leaf across the cut to secure it, you had stayed there— hand still on his knee as you stared at him. Your lips parted but no words came out. So did he. The air went still, both your cheeks a purple hue as you broke the stare.
You shuffled back slightly, hand slipping off his leg as Neteyam internally frowned at the loss of your touch. He blinked before he said.
“Thank you,”
When he stood up, you raised your head toward him, grinning softly as your tail flickered from side to side. Your lips were tugged upwards as you told him,
“Be careful, Neteyam.”
“I’ll try.”
He will. But he also wouldn’t mind getting hurt if it meant he could be closer to you.
<3
Only two days passed before he showed up again. This time, he didn’t have a large gash, or a fatal wound. It was a small cut on his palm, one he had accidentally gotten when he faltered slightly during training. In truth, it didn’t even need tending. Eywa, he’s had injuries much worse than that, and yet he still made his way to you.
You huffed at the sight, though the smile that crept up betrayed you.
“I thought I told you to be careful,” you said.
“I did,” he replied, still standing by the entrance. His smile was crooked, a playful glint in his eyes. You nodded to the spot in front of you as he shuffled toward it.
When he sat down, you had grabbed his palm, the blood already starting to dry up. Your fingers grazed it lightly, his fingers twitching at the contact. You raised a brow before you spoke.
“Neteyam,” you started. “This isn’t even bad. At all.”
“Still hurts. And,” he argued, shrugging his shoulders. “What if it gets— I don’t know, infected?”
You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head as you reached over to grab a bit of paste you had prepared beforehand. You saw him grin from the corner of your eyes.
“You’re unbelievable,” you huffed, fingers working to apply the ointment to his awful, fatal wound. As you did, you heard his breath hitch softly. Then, he spoke.
“So,” he muttered. “Why don’t you train with the others?”
You didn’t look up. “Because someone has to be tsahik one day,” your fingers slowed, gently grazing him then. “I am a healer.”
He hesitated, shifting slightly beneath your fingers.
“But you’re strong. You could fight.”
You lifted your head then, meeting his gaze as you raised a brow. “And what makes you think that?”
He swallowed. “Just… a guess?”
You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head as your fingers grazed his thigh.
“Let me check your leg,”
When your palm had landed on him, you felt the muscles contract, his body stiffening at the feel of your palm on his thigh. It had happened before, he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. His tail swayed lazily behind him when you sighed.
“Neteyam, relax,”
“I am,” he said immediately, a little too fast.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” you muttered, feeling the soft, erratic thumps against his skin.
His ears flicked, cheeks warming a lavender bloom. “Then I am trying,”
A few seconds passed in silence. The air filled with the striking smell of herbs as you wrapped the cloth, shifting back to look at him.
“Alright,”
“So?” he asked, hopeful.
“You’ll live,” you said, placing the herbs back where they were before.
As he stood, you tilted your head up to him, your eyes still narrowed towards his.
“Thanks, again.” He whispered, eyes flicking down to the mat below when he felt his cheeks burn up once more.
You smiled at him. “Be careful, Neteyam. I mean it.”
His smile was small, fond. “Yeah, I will,”
Eventually, he left the hut, smiling to himself like an idiot. Inside, you sat frozen in place, a warmth engulfing your heart as you smiled to yourself.
<3
He was back the next day.
You didn’t have to look up. You heard him pace outside the hut, footsteps going back and forth as if he was waiting to be noticed— or gathering the courage to face you.
You kept your fingers working, though it was basically muscle memory by then. The flap lifted as light flooded in, blinding you momentarily as you saw the silhouette of a very familiar Na’vi arrive.
“Let me guess,” you sighed. “Another deadly injury.”
“Maybe,” he shot back, one arm held stiffly at his side. His shoulders slumped dramatically as he shuffled over to you. He looked almost proud as he held a crooked grin.
“Sit down, forest boy,” you huffed.
He listened immediately, crouching down as he sat on the mat.
“I think I did something to my shoulder,” he said, rolling his shoulders experimentally as he winced, his hiss coming out a little too dramatically. “It hurts.”
You raised a brow. “You think.” You paused for a moment, then said. “You trained. You are sore. Congratulations, warrior.”
“It could also be called an injury,” he offered hopefully.
You gruffed as you moved closer, fingers warm as they brushed over his shoulder, testing gently. You pressed, then circled, feeling the tense knot of muscle under your touch.
He sucked in a quiet, shallow breath.
You paused, fingers faltering slightly. “Does it hurt?”
“N—“ he paused. “Kinda.”
You rolled your eyes, then continued your movements. Your hands worked, slowly and calculated as you eased the tight muscle. His posture softened almost immediately, shoulders dropping as if it had been the first time he had been given a break.
“So,” you said casually, “you always get hurt this much?”
He laughed. “Only recently.”
“Hm. Weird.”
“Very,” he agreed. “Did you always want to be a healer?”
“Not really,” you muttered. “But it grew on me. And I grew to like taking care of people.”
The silence wasn’t awkward, it held a comforting weight. Like the world had faded away outside of the hut.
“What about you?” you asked, voice still a gentle quiet, like the soft lapping of the waves against the shore.
“What about me?”
“Did you always want to be a warrior?” you quipped, eyes flicking just once to look at him.
He breathed, pausing for a moment. “Someone has to take care of my family.”
You nodded softly, then, glanced at him again, and this time he was watching your hands— your fingers, your wrists, the way you focused so intently like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
Then, you noticed how his breathing evened out. You also noticed how he leaned into your touch, practically melting under your fingers. Worst of all, it was his stare that burned holes into your skull.
“You could say something,” you whispered. “And— maybe not just stare at me all the time.”
His mouth opened. Then closed. He breathed out a nervous laugh. “You make it difficult.”
You leaned in slightly, fingers still working at his shoulder. “Do I?”
You felt him tense, nodding as his voice dropped a little. “You’re… distracting.”
You hummed. “Funny, I was thinking the same.”
His ears flattened at your words, tail flicking behind him in interest.
A grin crawled up your lips. “How am I supposed to heal others when someone keeps making excuses to keep me busy all the time?”
“I don’t—“ he stopped, then sighed. “Well, what if I was?”
You smiled to yourself, pausing for a moment. “Then you would have to find other ways to have me alone,”
You felt his heart stutter. “I am,”
Silence settled over you as you pulled your hands away. For a moment, you swore he looked almost disappointed. His eyes met yours, glueing onto them very obviously.
“Awfully bold today, forest boy,” you shot. “Might think you’re flirting with me.”
His lips parted. Then, shifted into a soft grin. He shrugged his shoulders gently. “Maybe— Maybe I am.”
You held his gaze. “Good.”
His face flushed, his movements freezing for a moment before he stood up.
“Th—“
You cut him off before he could finish. “No need to thank me, Neteyam.”
He nodded and turned to leave.
Then, his footsteps stopped. You heard him clear his throat. “So. Um,” he said, turning to face you. “Are you free tomorrow?”
You tilted your head. “I am. Unless—“
“Unless what?” He cut you off instantly, brow raising in concern.
“Unless you decide to injure yourself again.”
He grinned at your words. “I’ll try not to,”
“Well then I’m free,” you said.
He paused, looking into your eyes until he spoke. “Okay. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”
You folded your arms, tail swaying gently behind you. “For what?”
Then, he hesitated. Just for a second. He inhaled— sharp and shallow before he said,
“It’s a date.”
And with that, he left. He grinned to himself, face hot and ears definitely purple as he left your hut. You watched him leave as your heart raced, looking back down at the herbs as you shook your head and let out a soft laugh.
A smile tugged at your lips, and undeniably, your heart.
“Tomorrow,” you tasted the words on the tip of your tongue.
Summary: In which you and Neteyam are courting, but Tuk seems to take up more and more of your attention despite knowing that her brother was soon to be your mate.
a/n: I was inspired by someone on here, but I forgot their tag 😓
You and Neteyam have been stuck to each other for as long as you can remember. From the moment the two of you could crawl to meeting his youngest siblings to completing the Iknimaya together—everyone could see the pathway Eywa set for the both of you. So it was no surprise that Neteyam began to officially court you the second you both became of age.
Ever since then, you were even more inseparable. Well, maybe expect for your duties as tsakarem since it was clear that you would follow after his grandmother and mother. And whenever Tuk showed up, in a way you found rather cute, really.
As much as Neteyam loved you and you loved Neteyam, Tuk was a really close second to being your love. No matter what you were doing, if she could see you, she would immediately drop everything to be by your side and talk your ear off, typically earning a scolding from Neytiri.
To you, it was the most endearing thing ever. You were glad you were getting along with the youngest Sully, never having a little sister yourself. Most times, Tuk would refer to you as her best friend and bragged to everyone she could that she was your favorite—even when you and Neteyam were very clearly together.
Nevertheless, Neteyam—being the most patient Na’vi on Pandora—didn’t mind Tuk’s constant love for you most of the time . He knew how much his little sister admired you and everything you did, and who was he to tell her to back off and find a new friend?
Unfortunately, the other times where his patience wore thin were when his duties to train to be an Olo'eyktan with his father got to his head and all he wanted to do was be in your presence as it often calmed him—not you and his little sister.
It just so happened that today was one of those days.
Neteyam found you wandering the village with a woven basket to your hip, knowing your path was distinct in your head when your ears flickered in a specific pattern. He had just gotten back from a flight with his father and desperately wanted to see you, tail swishing behind him happily when you caught his gaze.
“Where are you off to?” He wrapped an arm around your waist loosely, kissing the side of your head while you grinned up at him with the smile that could melt him anytime.
“Teyam.” You say softly in recognition, letting yourself soften from his simple touch, your own tail swaying in giddiness. “I’m on my way to visit your family since I dropped some herbs off to your grandmother earlier, and I feel like I haven’t seen them in years.”
He scrunched his nose in amusement from your words and tilted his head, taking the basket gently to carry it for you. “You saw them this morning.”
“Same thing.” You wave him off with a flick of your hand and enter his home, smile widening when you see the youngest Sully daughter sitting with her sister that was attempting to teach her how to bead together a top—the older girl sighing when she saw you.
“Tuktuk!” You called out for the young girl, bending and holding your arms open for her to run into.
She called your name out in response, jumping into your arms as you caught her, spinning her around and around until she squealed for you to stop. You kiss her cheek and tuck her hair back, complimenting a new bead in her hair when you heard Neteyam clear his throat beside you—your eyes flickering to him in mild confusion.
“I don’t get that as much enthusiasm when you see me?” Neteyam frowned in a way you assumed was a teasing manner, making you pat his cheek.
“Hush.” You laugh softly before turning back to Tuk, her eyes shining with joy as she gained your attention once more, her tail whipping furiously behind her. “I missed you so so much, sweet girl!”
“I missed you too!” She giggled and looked away for a second, contemplating her next few words while you acknowledged the rest of her siblings.
Lo’ak rolled his at Tuk, giving you a faint smile but immediately began to complain about what his sister was going on and on about the entire day. “She kept whining about when we would see you again. She was all like, “When’s she coming over again?” “Can we visit grandma so we can see her?” and “Tell Neteyam to mate with her faster.””
The last comment made you and Neteyam burn bright purple, the words completely lost on Tuk but oh-so amusing to Kiri and Lo’ak when they heard their youngest sibling repeat the phrase several times. It got so bad that they physically had to cover her mouth when their mother did a quick check on them.
You were about to say something—asking the two of them why they hadn’t asked her to stop repeating the words—when Tuk tugged on your arm, finding the next big thing to bother you about while you were still here.
“Come! I have something to show you!” She dragged you out of the Sully home, away for her sibling’s sights.
Kiri watched in amusement as the flaps to the place flew, a teasing smile on her lips as she dropped her head in Neteyam’s direction. “She’s going to take her from you.”
Neteyam stared at the spot where you stood for a second, shaking his head and smiling weakly toward Kiri. He wasn’t too bothered by Tuk today… right?
“I’m just glad that they’re getting along.” He said almost flatly, causing Kiri to raise a brow at him.
Lo’ak snickered while he dodged a swipe from his brother, earning an eye roll from him as he reminded them of Tuk’s past shenanigans. “Remember there was entire week where Tuk wouldn’t let her go anywhere without her? She’s so protective of her.”
“I wonder why.” Kiri drawled in his direction, yelping when Lo’ak tugged at her tail. She furiously pushed his chest, making Neteyam sigh and pull them apart from each other as Kiri yelled at Lo’ak who was still making faces toward her. “Skxawng!”
Just then, the flap to their home opened, their mother entering with a sharp gaze because of the loud sounds she heard on her way over—the three of them looking at each other knowing they were caught. Well, mainly Lo’ak and Kiri.
“Enough.” Neytiri put a hand up and looked around the place, her ears tucking back when she couldn’t find her youngest daughter. “Where is Tuk?”
None of them spoke for a second, simply watching their mother clean the place up with a grace none of them could master just yet. It’s not like they how to pick up wooden toys and toss them into a basket while still looking like a woodsprite.
Neteyam was the first to speak, tilting his head with a fond look in his eyes as he revealed to her that Tuk was with you, his younger siblings looking at each other at their brother’s lovesick look.
Neytiri hummed, grabbing the basket you brought earlier and picking it up. She took the fine beads that were carefully wrapped on the inside before looking up at her eldest, a soft smile gracing her lips.
“Speaking of your future mate, she has Tsahìk training with your grandmother and I tomorrow morning.” She revealed, cupping his cheek and pinching it. “So no staying out late tonight with her. We need her up bright and early.”
Gagging and laughing could be heard from where Lo’ak and Kiri stood, their noises making their brother’s face flush, warmth flooding his face with embarrassment at his mother’s words. He couldn’t tell if that was what his mother was exactly insinuating, but it certainly what his siblings were.
“Mother.” Neteyam cleared his throat, pushing Neytiri’s hand away from him.
She clicked her tongue in his direction, shaking her head and giving him a look that told him that her and Jake were once like him and you long ago. “Are you not courting her?”
Neteyam feigned annoyance, eyes darting away from her knowing gaze as he spoke only to be cut off by the sibling who loved you just as much as he did.
“I am, but—“
“Mama!” Tuk shouts and jumps out of your arms, running up to her mother and hugging her tightly while you stumble slightly at the sudden movement.
Luckily, Neteyam caught you within seconds, his tail wrapping around your waist in protectiveness. You smiled softly before taking a step closer to him, your hand brushing with his before you laced them together, making him lift your joined hands and kissing your knuckles.
Lo’ak whistles at the action as he walked out of the home, earning an eye roll from Kiri. She simply sat back down on the woven mat and continued to bead together a top, still listening intently to the conversation without fail.
“What did I miss?” You ask with a smile, ears perked up and tail swishing behind you before it instinctively curled around Neteyam’s thigh, causing the boy’s cheeks to flush a darker purple than it already was.
“Nothing worth listening to.” Neteyam murmured against your hair, pressing another kiss to your temple before his voice dropped even lower to the point where only you could hear him. “Are we still going to the river tonight, yawntu?”
This time, your own cheeks flush a deep purple to match his, the end of your tail thumping on his thigh in an exultant manner. “Who would I be if I ever said no?”
“C’mon, let’s go! She’s probably waiting for us already!” Tuk dragged Neteyam by the arm as they walk through Pandora’s vast forest, her small legs doing her best to run while Neteyam did his best to hold onto her tightly, praying to Eywa that she wouldn’t trip or fall.
Lo’ak pulled a face and rolled his eyes at his younger sister, nudging Spider in amusement while Kiri gave him an unimpressed look. “Tuk, slow down. We won’t get there any faster if you twist your ankle and complain about the trip to the river.”
Now, Neteyam had no idea how Tuk found out that he was going to meet up with you at the river that evening. All Neteyam knew was that she threatened to tell their parents if he didn’t let her go with him to see you—but that didn’t include telling his siblings and apparently Spider. So the next thing he knew was that he was taking four others to your spot, each step diminishing his eagerness to see you.
Tuk stuck her tongue out at Lo’ak, only earning one from him as well before she saw you standing at the clearing by the river, her tail swishing energetically behind her in excitement. Tuk called out your name and your ears perked up at the voice in surprise as you thought you were only supposed to see Neteyam.
Turning around, your golden eyes found the Sully family—including Spider—approach where you stood, the youngest climbing over a large log hastily to get to you somewhat faster.
When they got close enough, you opened your arms for a hug that Neteyam thought was his, his own arms raised before you bent over and gathered Tuk in your arms. Neteyam froze with his arms still up, stunned ever so slightly before glaring at the three behind him who were stifling their laughter.
“Tuktuk!” You smothered her face in kisses—the ones Neteyam should’ve received. You admire her softly, knowing you saw her earlier during dinner but nonetheless offered her your compliments. “You look so pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you!” She giggled and held onto your neck tightly as you swayed back and forth, her eyes catching the new beaded top you wore. “You weren’t wearing that earlier.”
Your cheeks warm at her observation, your tail flicking behind you slightly before you shake your head knowing the top was supposed to be for Neteyam but she didn’t need to know that.
“I just wanted to try it on for once. Does it look good, Tuktuk?”
“So good!” She giggled again and began to ask millions of questions about the beads, the river, the different glowing plants—anything she could that would retain your attention for as long as she could have it.
Lo’ak punched his brother’s shoulder, now laughing quite loudly in Neteyam’s opinion. “Bro, you wish that was you.”
And before Neteyam could say something back, Kiri let her heart get the better of her, saving her older brother from getting ruthlessly poked and prodded by her other brother. And, unfortunately, saving Lo’ak from an earful—which she didn’t really care for.
“Tuk, come here. Let’s get you adjusted to the water so you can swim.” Kiri called Tuk over with a small smile in your direction, making the youngest Sully dramatically sigh and reluctantly leave your arms with an exaggerated pout.
You watched her to ensure she was safe in her sister’s arms before turning to Neteyam whose ears were flat with his tail swishing vigorously back and forth. You walked over to him and lead him away from the rest of the group, your eyes scanning his figure.
“What’s wrong, Teyam—?”
“You love Tuk more than me.” Neteyam interrupted, his tail now moving more fiercely as his gaze met yours. His golden eyes flickered with an emotion you thought was impossible for him to ever feel, amusement running through your veins.
“That’s not true.” You laugh with a shake of your head, cupping his cheeks gently as you spoke and thumbing the patterns decorating his face. “I love you and Tuk differently.”
Neteyam softens under your touch but still mutters in complaint about the attention you give his much younger sister, a pout settling on his lips that reminded you of said little sister. “But you just have to greet her first?”
“She’s my little baby!” You scoff with a teasing smile as he finally wraps his arms around your waist, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re jealous, Neteyam. Of your own sister.”
“No.” He meets your eyes carefully before deciding to bury his head in your neck, mumbling against your skin in embarrassment. “No.”
“Mhm.” You grin and rub his back gently, ears perking up when you could hear his siblings shouting at each other before shaking your head, focusing your attention back to the Na’vi you loved with all your heart. “You shouldn’t lie to the person you’re courting, Teyam.”
“I hate you.” He groans and holds you flush against him, your tail wrapping around his leg naturally from the familiar position while his own tail found its home around your waist once more.
“No you don’t.” You laugh again and lightly pull him up from his spot in your neck, your golden eyes catching his—your eyes reflecting his beautiful face. “I see you, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. And I know I could never find anyone else like you.”
Neteyam looks between your eyes, his own eyes shimmering before he pressed his forehead against yours, meeting your lips with tenderness. “I see you too, yawntu.” He pressed another kiss to your lips before pulling away, forehead still against yours. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” You murmur, thumbing his bottom lip with a small smile. You peck his lips once more, gaze catching his. “It’s okay.”
“We’re not going to be able to sneak away, are we?” He mumbled as you begin to kiss every inch of his face, his hand finding the curve of your back.
You hum against his lips, pulling back ever so slightly to meet his blown eyes. “Not unless you want to lie.”
⟢ Summary: Neteyam falls hard for the pretty healer girl who stayed by his side during his unconscious state, the problem was that she seemed to be a mystery
⟢ Warnings: Mention of injuries, wounds, death, some characters may be oc, Neteyam being a silly little guy, fluff
⟢ Author’s note: I had this in a dream lol so I just had to write it, English isn’t my first language so forgive me for any mistakes🙏
Enjoy!🫶❤️
My Masterlist
Neteyam had missed death.
He had been shot, shot in a way that should have killed him. Anyone else would have died from such a wound, but by the grace of the Great Mother, Neteyam survived with only minimal injuries, injuries that could be healed.
What no one had expected was the coma. That lasted longer than anyone would have liked.
When he finally woke, it was not on the familiar rock above the ocean where he had last been conscious, but to the inside of a Marui. The air was thick with the scent of crushed herbs and salt, warm and somehow grounding.
His vision was blurred, tiny dots appeared, his body felt heavy, but what caught his attention most was the soft humming that filled the space.
It was so gentle, so soothing and so achingly familiar.
A Na’vi girl stood with her back to him, braids cascading down her spine as she worked carefully with a bowl, grinding herbs together. The sound of stone against stone was rhythmic.
When he started to shift slowly, she turned around sharply, nearly dropping the bowl from her hands.
Her eyes widened as she stared at him, disbelief written across her face.
“You are awake…” she whispered.
Her voice much sweeter than he had imagined, soft, like a breeze caressing him gently.
Before he could respond, she set the bowl down with shaking hands and rushed out of the Marui, leaving Neteyam alone among hanging bundles of herbs and healing tools scattered across the floor.
From what he could gather, this had to be a healer’s space.
Moments later, his ears perked up at the sound of footsteps approached.
The Tsahìk entered alongside the girl, both of them kneeling beside him to check for lingering injuries.
As they spoke quietly to one another, Neteyam found his gaze drifting back to her. Her focused expression, the careful way her hands moved as she examined him, gentle and precise.
She either didn’t notice him staring or chose not to say anything.
If Neteyam hadn’t known better, he would have thought he’d woken in heaven, the place his father had spoken of once, filled with ethereal beings called angels.
Because Neteyam was certain she was one.
Her braids swayed as she moved, occasionally falling into her face, and she would furrow her brows adorably as she brushed them away.
Sunlight filtered through the flaps of the marui, illuminating her side and casting her in a soft glow that left him utterly speechless.
He truly believed she was the most beautiful Na’vi he has ever seen.
He didn’t even realize they had finished until she stepped away, revealing the view of the entrance just as Lo’ak burst inside with the rest of his family.
They surrounded him instantly, hugging him, crying, laughing through tears.
Jake pulled him into a tight embrace, silent but shaking, and Neteyam felt his shoulder grow wet as his father finally let his tears fall.
Neytiri cradled his face in her hands gently, sobbing uncontrollably as she thanked the Great Mother over and over again.
They had been terrified. Scared out of their minds.
At first, the coma had been a relief, since it was proof that he was alive.
But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, until the relief became fear once more.
Five months of waiting, of wondering if Neteyam would ever wake up.
Jake had even called for Max and Norm, his faith in Na’vi healing thinning with each passing day. Yet their answer had matched Ronal’s.
Neteyam was alive, in a coma with no fatal injuries. Thankfully the bullet managed to miss any vital organ.
Jake stayed silent the whole visit, he just sat next to his unconscious son, Lo’ak beside him. Even though, most of the times, the boy went alone, talking to Neteyam, keeping him updated on his progress with Tsireya and his training.
Neytiri came by a few times, because she could not bear to see her son right in front of her yet so far away.
Although when she came she would sit by his side, fixing his braids while singing his songchord in a broken voice. She was the one who cried the most while visiting, her tears would fall on him and she wiped them gently, crying some more.
Kiri and Tuk visited together, Tuk would tell Neteyam everything that had happened that day while Kiri would add little details.
However when Tuk wasn't there, Kiri would just sit, murmuring small prayers while looking at her brother before leaving.
Surprisingly enough even Ao’nung and Tsireya visited, Tsireya went with Lo’ak most of the times while Ao’nung would just glance outside of the Mauri, never truly entering, paying his respects before leaving.
Someone who visited and who stayed there the most wasn't anyone Neteyam knew, yet.
It was this girl none of the Sully had met.
She would sit there, far away if the family was visiting, humming softly a tune that Neteyam could hear in his deep sleep.
It calmed him.
ੈ✩‧₊˚
After everything settled down, his bandages changed, his reunion with his family done, Neteyam sat on a rock near the water alongside his siblings and the Metkayna's kids.
Chatting and catching up.
But one thing lingered in his mind.
The mysterious girl.
He had to ask about her.
He had to know about her
"Oh she is a healer, she is the best we have"Tsireya smiled from next to Lo'ak, he didn't fail to notice that they were sat too close, hands holding.
"A healer?” Kiri spoke surprised”Isn’t she a bit young to be a healer?"
Kiri's gaze would sometimes peek a glance, whenever she visited Neteyam, toward the girl who sat a few spaces away from her, humming while crashing herbs or weaving, and she didn’t seem older than them.
"She is but she is better than most adults. She works closely with our mother"Ao’nung replied, rolling something in his fingers.
Neteyam’s heart dropped.
He turned sharply to look at Ao’nung.
"Is she your future mate?"he questioned, praying to Eywa for the opposite, trying to keep an unwavering face and tone.
He couldn't have just lost his shot.
Ao’nung shook his head with a small breathless chuckle"she is not, don't worry".
Lo’ak’s grin was immediate”why? You want her to be yours?”
Laughter followed, and Neteyam felt his face warm.
"She is pretty hard to find”Roxto added once the laughter died down”all she does is work and when she doesn't no one knows where she goes".
Neteyam’s ears perked up at his words”she does not have friends?”he questioned, head tilted curiously.
"We used to be childhood friends but when she became a healer we did not talk as much"Ao’nung confessed, a sorrow look plastered on his face.
"But she is a kind one”Tsireya intervened, directing a gentle smile to Neteyam.
“She stayed with you almost everyday in case you woke up and checked on you every night, so if you talked to her you might have a chance"she finished, trying to lift his spirit.
"Good luck, bro"Lo'ak spoke, giving him an encouraging pat on the back.
ੈ✩‧₊˚
Neteyam had been searching for the girl since the talk with his friends, and only now was he understanding Roxto's words.
She was nowhere to be found and it was nearing eclipse.
He was about to give up until his ears perked at a familiar humming, his feet were quick, making their way toward the sound.
To a quiet stretch of shore.
She sat alone on a rock near the water, waves crashing gently below, a glowing flower cradled carefully in her hands.
As the darkness deepened, her patterns began to glow, radiant, rivaling the flower itself.
She was breathtaking.
Realizing he’d been staring far too long to look anything but a creep, Neteyam cleared his throat to make his presence known.
She startled before turning.
Once her eyes landed on him his legs weakened under him.
“Neteyam?” she said, his name falling from her lips like a blessing.
“You… know my name?” he asked, His tail swaying flustered behind him. Voice lower than he intended, but he was just too mesmerized.
His heart skipped a beat once she chuckled softly”of course. I have tended to you for months.”
She patted the spot beside her, inviting him to sit and he did, without hesitation.
As soon as he sat down he felt a light breeze caressing him, his hair swaying with the wind, the sounds of the waves filling the blanks that the silence left.
"I like to come here to be in my own thoughts, I thought nobody would find me here"she started, turning to Neteyam with a grin. "Guess it didn’t last long, although I don't mind sharing my spot with you as long as you keep it a secret"she added softly.
Neteyam nodded eagerly, too eagerly.
"it's gonna stay between you and me, I promise"he answered.
Both were looking into each other’s eyes, wide smiles plastered on their faces. Their tails unconsciously inching closer.
"It's nice to finally see you not half dead"she spoke playfully.
Neteyam chuckled"it feels nice to not be half dead".
A comfortable silence settled between the pair, gazes redirected to the ocean’s view in front of them.
Their hands brushed, and Neteyam knew, without a doubt, that he would be coming to this place far more often than ever.
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 jake always put an unnecessary amount of stress on neteyam and it left a bad taste in your mouth. now quaritch is telling you that neteyam died as a result of his fathers incompetence?
ᶜʷ cannon divergence, mentions of death, lowk grooming, angst?
ʷᶜ 3.6k
When Neteyam told you that his family would be leaving you hadn’t believed him. Had thought he was telling you some elaborate joke, that he was engaging in one of Spider and Lo’ak’s ‘pranks’ and he just wanted a reaction from you.
So you dismissed him, continued your path to the river to go for a quick swim before the nightly cookfire rolled around. Neteyam followed you however, urging you to listen.
“At first light tomorrow my father will pass on the title of Olo’ekytan to Tarsem.”
You laugh at him again, “Tarsem? Who handed your brother the rifle in the most recent raid?”
“He was following orders, besides he is wise beyond his years.”
You wade into the river. Feet taking sure steps into the muddy, pebbly ground. Turning, you beckon Neteyam to join you, “So, where are you going?”
He follows you into the deeper waters, it resting between your chest and waist now. A pinched expression crossing Neteyam’s features. It’s only when you playfully splash water at him, he finally voices an answer.
“I cannot tell you.”
“Cannot tell me?” You scoff a little bit, he cannot tell if it is out of true annoyance or if it is more of a playful lilt, “I am your oldest friend.”
“Yes, and I would tell you anything.” He smiles at you boyishly, “But I believe my father would skin me if I told you this.”
You dive under the water, swimming a few feet away from him before resurfacing, “He speaks of skinning you anyways. Just tell me so I may visit when there is new gossip to discuss.”
“It is a safety concern, ma txeylan.” He comes closer again, this time splashing you. “You know he expects me to protect the family above all else.”
It’s true, growing up with Neteyam meant you were quite familiar with his fathers expectations.
Any trouble Lo’ak stirred up reflected on Neteyam’s ‘inability’ to control his brother. Any scrapes Kiri obtained from foraging came from Neteyam not being observant enough to catch her before she injured herself. And Tuk got into so many things that even at her age Neteyam carried her many places to avoid her scampering off and getting into trouble.
He confided in you about this many times. Believing that it was a safe space to do so, and glad to feel some justification of his feelings on the situation.
And he was correct. You would never speak a word about his feelings to anyone. Never tell the Olo’eyktan your thoughts about how much pressure he put on Neteyam’s shoulders. But that didn’t mean you would forget; that you would just let Neteyam tell you about it and erase the moment from your mind.
So you decide to indulge in one last night of joy. Splashing in the same river you came to as young children. Making games of tossing a nearby fruit around. Seeing who could hold their breath the longest. Diving to see the best rocks you could find.
Eventually the two of you tire, perching on a rock on the river bank. It is then that you start to reminisce of your childhood.
“Do you remember when you first tried to climb hometree on your own?” You tilt your head in his direction, eyes trying to make contact with his.
“Yes of course. I made it quite far for how little I was.”
“So then you also remember how you fell on me and broke my arm.”
His tail swats at you, “I did not!”
“I could barely lift it, without Tashik's help it would have fallen off.”
He nods, agreeing with you but he has to remind you that you were both stupid children, “Fine. Do you remember when you ate a kenten?”
“You told me it would make me glow!” You protested, laughing at the memory. Grimacing a bit when you remember the taste of the poor kenten.
“You glow because of your tanhì,” Neteyam is rubbing something between his fingers but you cannot see what it is from this angle. Your interest in the item has pulled you in so much that you startle a little when he speaks again, “Your smile as well.”
“What was that?” You must have missed the beginning of his sentence. Too focused on that thing in his hands that your ears didn’t detect his words until they were nearly over.
“It was nothing.”
You roll your eyes. He could be dramatic when he wanted to, and you did not want to feed into it tonight. Simply desiring a final good memory, one to cherish until he came back.
“Do you remember how we would go on our own hunts after our iknimayas?”
“Yes.” Neteyam laughs at that, “We did not get much done.”
“But we saw a lot. Learned the forest more in our own way.”
He nods a bit in response, fingers still playing with that damn thing. What could it be? Why was he so enamoured with it? Why would he follow you out here to speak of his departure and let it take all his attention?
“What is that?” You’re fully facing him when you ask the question. Staring intently at his eyes when they finally meet yours.
“What is what?”
You gesture towards his hands, “That.”
“Ah.” Neteyam stops fidgeting with it then, tucking it away into a satchel on his tewng. “It is nothing.”
You groan, why is he being so secretive? “You’ve been toying with it all night. I will not steal it, I am only curious.”
“I will show you in the morning, how about that?”
“You depart in the morning.”
Neteyam rises up into a sitting position, “Yes, but I will show you before.”
You nod, still a little annoyed at his reluctance to show you now, but there is nothing you can do to change his mind when it is set.
“Come. It is late, we should head back.”
Neteyam is right. You weren’t worried about the threats that lurked in the dark, the two of you being skilled warriors. But the longer you stayed meant the less sleep Neteyam would get, and you weren’t entirely sure how long his journey would be.
So you rise, leading the way back home. You allow him to drop you off at your kelku before climbing onto your woven sleeping mat.
When you awake the next morning Neteyam is already waiting for you outside. You try to emerge, but a hand on your shoulder gently pushes you back inside. Once the two of you are finally granted privacy he speaks up.
“Yesterday you asked me what I was holding.”
You nodded, a soft hum of agreement coming from your throat.
Neteyam licks his lips before holding a small circular item in your direction, “The polished piece in the middle is what I was toying with.”
Grabbing the item for closer inspection you see a piece of river glass. The pieces were hard to come by, only ever produced from fallen RDA mechs that had fallen close enough to the water.
It is woven into traditional Omatikaya patterns but much, much, smaller. Tiny beads adorn the twine to make for one of the most intricate, beautiful crafts you’ve seen.
“It is beautiful.” You extend it back to him, “Thank you for showing me.”
A smile graces your features as you wait for him to take it back. After a few moments, and no movement from Neteyam, your smile starts to falter.
“You know I am not selfish.” His eyes are not on you as he speaks, instead darting around your kelku.
“Yes. If anything, you are selfless.” You try to usher the craft back into his hands again.
“Then please do not be upset with me with what I am about to say.”
Concern graces your features now. What was he going to say? Why would he leave such an important admission for right before he leaves for an unknown amount of time?
Instead of allowing you to voice your agreement Neteyam continues, “I have been thinking about this for a few moons. I would have mentioned it sooner if I had known that we did not have time.”
“Stop delaying. Speak what is on your heart Neteyam.”
He finally takes the craft from you. He lightly strokes over it with his thumb before gripping it between his thumb and forefinger.
“I feel for you differently than I would for a sister. And I feel much more for you than if we were just friends.”
Your eyes widen in shock. It was not that you did not reciprocate, but until today he was the future Olo’eyktan. He could have whoever he wanted, no one out of his grasp. But he still had not said it outright, and you would like to hear it before he departed.
“What are you saying?”
“I would have liked to court you, to ask you to be my mate.” He sighs, a sad look gleaming in his eyes, “But now I ask you to wait.”
“To wait?”
“For my return. That is why I asked if you believed me to be selfish, as I know this is a selfish ask.”
A pleasant feeling fills your chest, your feelings being requited was very exciting. The small smile that fell upon your face clears when you remember that Neteyam would be leaving shortly.
“It is fine if you do not feel the sam-”
You cut Neteyam off with little regard to his words, “What is the craft for?”
“It is a ring. Something to remember me by.”
You scoff at that, “I would not simply forget you.”
“I know that, but I still wanted to leave you with something to remember me by. To show that when the time is right I will make you something bigger, something that will loudly show my love.”
So you nod. “I will wait. You did not have to ask me to, I would have done it regardless.”
You allow Neteyam to place the ring on your thumb, somewhere it would not disrupt your duties. Then you press your temple to his, nuzzling the side of his face affectionately. Trying to memorize his scent even though you’ve spent your entire life smelling it.
Things do not progress past that small, tender moment. Neteyam’s family would be departing soon, and you both would prefer to save anything that meant more for when he returned. For when you would not have to worry about being separated ever again.
You send him off with the rest of the Omatikaya. Dread settling in your chest at the thought of how long it may take for him to return to you. But you quickly find rubbing at the new ring that adorns your finger brings you a sense of peace.
He would return shortly. You were sure of it.
When Quaritch strikes a deal with Varang to find Jake Sully he couldn’t be more sure that it would work. She had a knack for getting information from people, especially when they didn’t want her to know something.
One of the reef clans they decided to raid and interrogate had the Tlalim visiting. It must have been Quaritch’s lucky day. Two clans, one stop. It couldn’t get better than that.
While searching for anything that could be useful towards Jake Sully's location Varang sees flashes of a young Neteyam running around the Tlalim airships; there's a young girl following him, the two of them stop at nearly everything.
The memory quickly flashes to an older Neteyam and an older version of the girl. The two take more time to observe things now. Only stopping to pick at things that really interest them, things that define their personalities.
Varang smiles when she disconnects her kuru from the Tlalim womans. “I have something. Quaritch.”
The squad rolls back out to the Omatikaya forest. They simply wait. Lurking in the shadows, knowing you would eventually appear.
When you do finally venture into the forest it is to hunt. You pass a Mangkwan warrior unknowingly as you track a yerik. He then comms to Varang, who tells Quaritch of your whereabouts.
He waits to make his presence known. Lets you release your arrow, to find your mark and get a clean kill. Allowing you to send your sacred prayer to Eywa. It is only after that he reveals himself.
Hands are raised in mock surrender. You still raise your bow at him all the same. When he doesn’t flinch, you become a little concerned.
“Listen kid, you’ve got two options here.” He smirks at you, running his tongue over his bottom teeth before continuing, “You can come with us willingly, or you can come with us unwillingly.”
“I will not go with you at all.” Your voice comes out strong. As if you truly believe your statement.
Before you can even sense the change in atmosphere, Varang is at your neck. One hand gripping your kuru, the other pressing the sharp edge of her weapon into your jugular.
Despite it all, Quaritch laughs, “Unwillingly it is.”
Varang's laugh echoes his, and you can't help but shrink into yourself slightly. Just what could they possibly want from you?
You don’t fight, knowing its one versus who knows how many Mangkwan warriors and RDA agents. And even if you could make it out alive, you don’t know if your kuru would survive as well; the fear of no longer being able to connect to anything is enough for you to behave.
You behave as they haul you through the forest. Behave as they drag you up into one of the RDA ships. Behave when they slap restraints on your wrists and throw you into a cell.
Even after Varang forcefully connects your kuru to hers, you don’t act out. A few yelps of pain, grunts and groans of discomfort, but other than that you are silent. You don’t thrash, don’t revolt, just take it and hope for the best.
They don’t treat your presence like it means anything. They speak freely of their plans. They talk about the Na’vi warriors who have been trouble for them. None of it interests you, as none of it directs you as to why they wanted you.
But then they mention the Sully children. Mention something about only seeing three of them. The girl with free messy hair, the boy with five fingers, and the small child who happens to be in the wrong place at perfect times.
They don’t mention Neteyam. Don’t say anything about how much of a lethal warrior he is. It is strange, concerning especially since he would never leave his siblings alone. Never allow them to put themselves in such danger if he wasn’t there to protect them.
Your voice comes out soft, its first time being used in many nights, “What about the fourth?”
Both Quaritch and Varang spin to face you. Shock flashes on their faces, not used to hearing your voice if it is not the form of some animalistic sound.
“The fourth?”
“Of Jake Sully’s children.”
Quaritch laughs. To you it seems as if he's mocking you, laughing at desperation that must have seeped into your voice. In reality he’s laughing that he has an in, that he’s found a way to get you to talk.
“Oh sweetheart. He’s dead.”
The nickname makes you grimace, not entirely understanding the meaning but knowing it’s not something you’d like to be called. But then the rest of his words register in your brain. Your ears flatten against your skull, tail swishing in uncertainty. “Dead?”
“Yup. Shot dead while defending Spider and one of the other Sully boy.” Quaritch leaves out that it was Lyle who shot Neteyam. Doesn't tell you how he was the one who gave the orders.
Unfortunately that does sound like something that would happen to Neteyam. He always put others before himself. Never took in the risks for himself, only focusing on how it would affect everyone else.
But he was so young. Had so much of his life to live. So many things to experience.
He still had to come home to you.
Tears begin to well in your eyes, but you turn to face the wall unwilling for the two of them to see you crying. As your back is turned Varang saunters closer to the glass.
“You do not like Jake Sully.”
You sniffle, blinking the tears away. “I respect Jake Sully.”
“But you do not like how he treats his children.” When you peer over your shoulder at her she continues, “You can help us retrieve him. Receive some revenge for him sending your yawntu to his deathbed.”
You hiss, displeased that Varang would use that against you, “You should not know that. It was not in your right to take it from me.”
“Yes, it was unfair.” She smiles at you, more friendly than you could have guessed she could, “But I know it, and we both know you would like to see Jake Sully pay for his crimes.”
You don’t give them the satisfaction of responding. Turning back towards the wall, folding in on yourself. You needed time to grieve before making a decision.
The next day you made a request for white chalky paint, along with charred black paint; wanting to participate in grieving Neteyam even if you weren’t surrounded by your people.
Quaritch comes by to personally deliver the paints. Even goes as far to ask you what it's for. To ask about cultural significance.
You paint it on using the glass that restrains you as a reflection. When you glance up to give your eyes a break every now and then, you can see Quaritch watching you. What he’s waiting for, you aren’t sure.
But you do not let him distract you. If he wanted to speak he could use his words.
It's a few days later as he and Varang are once again discussing the next reef village to visit, that you decide to speak.
“You only wish to arrest him?”
Quaritch turns to face you, “Arrest who sweetheart?”
“Jake Sully.”
Damn, he’s gotcha.
“Yep. Gotta bring him back to serve for his crimes, that’s all.”
You’re considering it. Sitting closer than usual. Varang's words, and your preexisting feelings stewing together to make a nasty cocktail in your chest.
“I will help.” You look up at them finally, ignoring the predatory looks in their eyes, “If you will have me.”
Afterwards it’s almost as if you’ve been adopted. Varang paints you in Mangkwan colors, maneuvering around your grieving paint. Quaritch shows you how to fire a gun, and he dons you in a bulletproof vest.
You make quick friends with Mangkwan warriors. Despite their oddities, the fact that Varang has accepted you makes them friendly enough. They aren’t your friends from the Omatikaya but they would do.
You only had to deal with them until you captured Jake Sully. You could head back to your people then. Repent for your choices, plead brainwash, and then live the rest of your life in peace.
As you emerge from the C-21 Dragon, you hope this is the last clan you would have to go to. Even though you desired to teach Jake a bit of a lesson, you still hated disrupting other Na’vi’s lives. Hated that they always took the low ground; burning, hurting, and killing, instead of doing it in an honorable way.
The Metkayina stood tall even in the face of the RDA. They did not falter at the sight of guns. Did not yield.
But then Jake Sully ran out, arms raised. He commanded them to stand down, that he would go with Quaritch as long as he left the people alone.
Varang demanded Neytiri though. Refused to leave without her as well.
The Metkayina raised again. Spears aimed, crossbows wound up. Prepared to spring into action at a drop of Toruk Makto's hand.
Jake goes on a spiel about how the RDA wouldn’t be able to determine the difference between the Metkayina and the Mangkwan. That you’re all blue. Was it really worth losing everything for one woman?
Quaritch weighs the odds. Knows that his own people truly wouldn’t be able to tell the difference because when he was a human every Na’vi looked the same. He could satiate Varang's desire another time. The two of them could take down Neytiri after Jake was out of the picture.
So he yields. Agrees to just taking Jake as Lyle had begged him. Finally remembered his mission after all those weeks being immersed in Mangkwan culture.
As the Metkayina yield again, two figures remain standing. One aims at Quaritch, the other at Varang. You notice Neytiri, and despite the circumstances it’s nice to see a familiar face.
Then your eyes pan over to the other figure. The long braids that lightly fall over his shoulders. A traditional Omatikaya cummberbund. An armband that you’ve seen in your dreams lately.
It couldn’t be who you thought it was. There was no way. He was dead, Quaritch told you so.
It must be Lo’ak. He must have grown immensely in his time away. And you’re almost happy to see him again, but a sinking feeling enters your chest from how much he looks like Neteyam.
Then despite your Mangkwan paint. The different way you’ve been braiding your hair. The fact that you’ve got a gun in your grasp instead of a bow. A call of your name ghosts over the clearing.
You know that cadence. Know the octave. Know how that voice feels when it rumbles out of his chest. But disbelief still finds your tone. Not willing to believe that Eywa would commit a miracle such as this.
“Neteyam?”
Translations:
Ma txeylan - My best friend
Kenten - Fan lizard
Tanhì - Bioluminescent freckle
Tewng - Loincloth
Kelku - Home
Yawntu - loved one
a/n: im not the proudest of it, but its something so! i wanted to say somewhat/super true to afaa and literally anytime i went to think about the movie my mind blanked...
