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sometimesanalice · 7 months

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Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss.

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier.

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together? You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day. I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

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txansngum

txansngum [English] n. desperation; feeling of great worry

Anonymous Request: Neteyam's mate from the forest no longer able to stand being away from him after a few year’s travels to meet him at the sea.

After two years apart, you are no longer able to stand being parted from Neteyam, and make the journey across the sea to reunite.

Adult Neteyam. TW: depression.

1,394 words.

I had not slept in two years.

Not really, not deeply, not the way I used to sleep - dreamlessly, peacefully, without worries.

Now, I tossed and turned, sometimes I cried, and mostly, I worried. Every night. I began to dread nightfall, knowing what would lurk for me there.

Dreams of him in danger, of him calling out to me to help, but I was too far away to do anything about it.

I was living a half life, doing only the bare minimum to keep myself alive, to make it through the days, weeks, months, and years until I might see him again.

Knowing he was waiting for me was the only thing that kept me somewhat sane. Sometimes I felt I might be pathetic or desperate, but what was I meant to do about it? I could not stop how I felt.

"I will come back for you, Y/N," he had told me before he left, clutching my hands so tightly I thought he might break them, a great sadness in his eyes, and that was the last thing he said to me.

Over two years ago.

"Y/N," my mother said, gently shaking me awake. Though I was old enough to have a hammock of my own to sleep in, it was too much to bear, and so I stayed with my mother and father. "Y/N, hurry," she said, and I noticed the urgency in her tone. My eyes flew open, and my mother knelt before me, holding a small pack and a poncho.

"You must go, now. You father has left for a hunt. You know the way?"

My mother pulled me into a seated position. "What? What way?" I asked, half asleep, hungry, sad.

"To the Metkayina," she hissed, "to Neteyam. I won't watch you live this way anymore. You must find him."

She shoved the pack into my hands, and pulled the woven poncho over my head.

"Go, now," she insisted.

Still confused, I stood up and exited our home. The clan was not quite awake yet, it was still nearly dark outside. As I breathed in the fresh morning air, my mind began to clear.

My mother was giving me permission to make the journey by myself, to leave her and my father behind, and to see Neteyam again.

My steps quickened, and my heart pounded in my chest. I began to run.

"Ta'ry," I called, clicking my tongue. "Ta'ry!"

Only moments later did I hear the flap of her wings, and she landed before me. "Good morning, Ta'ry," I said, running my hand along the neck of my Ikran. "Are you ready for a long ride?"

With my pack slung over my shoulder, I connected and mounted. I could feel her excitement, reflecting mine.

"Let's go," I whispered, and we took off.

---

The journey took many days, but my mother had put enough food and water in my pack to sustain me. In our down time, Ta'ry hunted for herself and we rested - but not much. I was determined to get there as fast as we could.

My stomach was in a knot the entire time. Though I had faith in Neteyam, two years was quite a long time. Did it mean something that he had not yet returned to me? Had he moved on, joined another clan, and found another woman?

It was not worth thinking about, I tried to tell myself. I would soon find out.

The Metkayina lived along a beautiful shore, on a sandy beach in front of a lush green forest. It was such a sight to behold, my anxiety almost melted away as I approached - but it returned when many gathered on the beach at my approach.

Ta'ry and I landed, and she took off again for the forest, hearing the cries of other Ikran that surely belonged to the Sully family. My heart began to hope.

The na'vi here looked so different from my clan at home. They were a lighter, more green color, and I noticed immediately that most were covered in intricate tattoos.

"Who are you?" a voice called, and I saw an imposing man coming through the small crowd that had gathered. His dark hair was piled on top of his head, and his eyes were narrowed.

"I am... I am Y/N, of the Omatikaya. I come looking for, for the Sullys."

"Y/N?"

I scanned the crowd for the voice calling my name, and through the crowd appeared Lo'ak.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed. "It's really you! Wait til Neteyam sees!"

He approached me quickly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

The stress of the journey overtook me, and I fainted in Lo'ak's arms.

When I began to regain consciousness, I was too tired to move or open my eyes. I could feel that I was laying on a soft bed, and I noticed the sound and scent of the ocean near by, and that was enough to remind me where I was... but I was still too tired to move.

People were around me, I could feel and hear them, and then they began to speak.

"She looks so thin," a woman said, and I thought it might be Netyiri. "Look at her face, her hollow cheeks... she must not have been eating enough on the journey."

"Long before that," another woman said, and I felt someone touch my arm, turning it over. "She has been sick a long time. Sick of mind."

She placed something wet and warm inside my wrist, and turned my arm back down.

"She will be better when she sees him. We should have brought her with us, but she was not of age. He has suffered without her, as well, but will not admit it," Neytiri said, her voice full of regret.

"Your youngest boy, or eldest?"

"Eldest," Neteyam's mother said, and I drifted off again.

The next time I woke up, I felt more alert. Taking in a deep breath, I stretched my arms above my head and sighed.

"Y/N!"

My eyes shot open. Sitting beside me was Neteyam, and he looked so different.

He was a man now. He was at least a foot taller, with broad shoulders and long braids, but his eyes were the same, though I had never seen them so full of concern.

"Neteyam!" I sat up, and fell over into his arms. Eagerly, he wrapped them around me, holding me to his chest.

It felt as if I had not truly taken a deep breath for two years, and now my lungs were opening up, finally accepting air. He smelled of the sea, and I began to cry.

"You could have died, Y/N!" he chastised. "Ronal says it looks as if you have not eaten or slept in years. You were not taking care of yourself!"

I winced at his angry words. He pushed me back just a little, and took my face in his hands. "You must eat, and grow strong. You have to keep up here."

"Will they let me stay?"

Finally, his face softened. "You think they would send you away? Bah, of course not. I would not allow us to be parted again, Y/N. Not when you need me to survive." His scowl turned into a teasing smile, and I looked down, blushing.

"I tried. I ate! I just... couldn't sleep," I shrugged, embarrassed at the way I had carried on since we parted.

He pulled me to his chest once more. "Me either. I dreamed of you when I did." He pushed my hair out of my face, and pressed his lips to the top of my head. "I had my bag packed, Y/N. I was set to leave tomorrow to come and bring you back to me."

I sat away from him suddenly, staring at him. "No. Really?"

We were forced to laugh at the absurdity of our situation. "Dad said it was finally safe enough to go back, just long enough to get you and return. But you beat me to it."

He wiped the tears from my eyes, and we smiled at each other.

"You must never leave again, Neteyam," I reached up to grab his wrist. "Not without me."

He pulled my face to his, and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. "Never, Y/N."

#avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam #neteyam x reader #avatar fic

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callsign-magnolia · 5 months

Text

Undiagnosed // Ch. 19

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

A/N: Please read blog update, here.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents, smut.

Word Count: 6.0k

Chapter 18 | Masterlist

Friday night rolls around and of course, it comes with a Hard Deck invitation. After the last time I was in a room full of naval officers, I was feeling nervous. I slipped on a cream colored sundress which had little daisies dotted on it. I slid my feet into the tan platform sandals and pulled my hair up into a ponytail. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves as I made my way downstairs. “Ready, darlin’?” Jake asked, clicking off his phone as he put it in his pocket. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked, hoisting my purse onto my shoulder. “Nothing is going to happen.” He said, stepping closer and gently holding my biceps. “That’s what you said last time.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “I promise you, nothing will happen this time. If anyone tries we’ll deal with it. It won’t blow up like last time.”

I sighed, looking up at him as his arms went around my waist. “Jake-” “I promise, darlin’. I’ll make sure you have fun tonight and it’ll all go smoothly.” I sighed, my forehead falling to rest on his chest. “Okay.” I huffed and he chuckled, leaning down to kiss my head. I pulled away, leaning up to kiss him and he met me halfway. “I love you.” I said and he just smiled at me. “I love you too.” He held my hand as he led me out of the house. He made sure the front door was locked before he led me over to the truck, opening the door for me and helping me in. He pulled my seatbelt over me, clicking it into place before he kissed my cheek and made his way over to the drivers side. He immediately grabbed my hand, kissing it before he rested our intertwined fingers on the center console. The ride was quiet, the only noise coming from the radio that played a local country station. We pulled into the sandy lot, the neons illuminating the inside of the truck. I took in a shaky breath, staring at the crowd.

“Hey.” Jake whispered softly. I turned to see him, turned in his seat to face me. “If you don’t want to tell them. We won’t, this is all up to you, darlin’.” I gave him a small smile and crawled over the center console to perch myself in his lap. “I want to. I want everyone to know. I’m just nervous of the repercussions.” I told him as my arms wrapped around his neck. His hands held my waist tightly as he looked up at me. “What do you think the repercussions will be?” He asked and my fingers played with the hair at the base of his neck. “My dad stripping you of everything. Me somehow winding up back in that house.” As soon as the words left my lips he yanked me impossibly closer, his green eyes boring into my own. “I don’t care what he takes from me, so long as it isn’t you. If I lose my career then it is what it is, but I swear to you, Katie. You will never go back to that house. I will do whatever it takes to keep you with me, and no one, you hear me, no one will take you away from me.” My forehead dropped to his as my hands moved to cradle his neck. “I love you.” I whispered before I leaned down and kissed him. “I love you too, darlin’.”

With that he slid me off of him and climbed out of the truck, before turning to me. “C’mon darlin’. Let’s go have some fun.” I smiled and let him help me out of the truck before he intertwined our fingers. He held my left hand as I reached my right over, my hand resting on his bicep. We walked in and immediately multiple people turned to us and greeted Jake. He flashed everyone a bright smile and introduced me to everyone as his girlfriend. It scared me but also made me feel good. Wanted, loved. Once we were left alone he led me back to the pool tables where the rest of the team was. “Hey!” He said loudly, catching everyone’s attention. They all turned to us, greeting us with big smiles. “What’s this?” Javy asked, nodding to our hands. Jake held up our intertwined fingers, kissing my knuckles. He looked at me with a questioning look and I nodded. “We’re together.” He said out loud and immediately Natasha jumped up from her spot next to Bradley and rushed over. “Oh my god!” She wrapped her arms around me in a hug. “I knew it would happen.” She said to me. “Pay up Coyote!” She turned and said, the man huffing and pulling out his wallet. “You knew?” I asked and she nodded as she let me go. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I knew it would happen eventually.” With that Bob came over. “It’s about time.” He said, pulling me into a hug before wrapping Jake into one as well.

Everyone was happy but Bradley kept his distance. Mav and Penny even came to say congratulations but also that Jake better not fuck up, which made me laugh. I gave Bradley his space but about halfway into the night I walked out onto the back deck where he was leaning against the wooden railing. “Hey.” I said and he turned to me before facing the water. “Hey.” He muttered and I stepped closer. “Are you okay?” I asked and he sighed. “Yeah.” He sounded so annoyed it made tears well in my eyes. “Are you sure? If I did anything, I’m sorry.” I said and he chuckled. “Come here.” He opened his arm and I stepped closer, allowing him to throw his arm over my shoulder. He squeezed me to his side, staring out at the ocean. “What’s going on?” I asked and he sighed. “Are you happy?” He asked, looking down at me and I nodded. “I’m very happy, Bradley.” I told him. “What’s this about?” I asked him. “I just worry about you. You know, mom never saw anyone else after dad died. So I was always an only child, but I don’t know, I worry about you like you’re my little sister.” He said, not looking my way. “I’m an only child too. But it’s nice to have someone like an older brother looking out for me.” I said, leaning into him. He just chuckled and patted my shoulder. “I guess if you’re happy that’s all that matters.” He said and I nodded. “I’m very happy. Truth be told, I don't think I’ve ever been this happy.”

“Get tired of being inside?” I heard a voice behind me and turned to see Jake. In all honesty, it was a little overwhelming in there. “A little. Just stepped out to talk to Rooster and catch my breath.” I said and he nodded, walking closer. “Did you win?” When I first walked out here, he was in a match against Fanboy, who was secretly a pool shark. “No. You know that nobody can beat Fanboy.” He said and I giggled as he wrapped his arms around me. “Except me.” Rooster said. “One time. You beat him one time and it was because you got lucky.” They laughed together before Rooster went back inside. “You okay?” He asked and I nodded. “I got a little overwhelmed in there. Plus after we told everyone Bradley kinda disappeared.” I told him and he furrowed his brows. “Was he mad?” I could see his shoulders tensing and he stood a little straighter. “No. Calm down.” I said, placing my hands on his arms and he visibly relaxed. “He just asked if I was happy.” I said and he raised a brow. “And what did you say?” It was my turn to raise my brow at him. “Do you think I’m unhappy?” I asked and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist. “No. I would know if you were unhappy.” He said, pulling me close. “Oh, you would? You think you know me so well?” I asked and he chuckled, leaning down and kissing me. “Yes. I do.” I smiled up at him, gently smacking his shoulder. “You’re so sure of yourself.” I told him with a laugh. “When it comes to you I always am.”

He pulled me ever closer, before turning us and backing me into the railing. “So, what did you tell him?” He asked, smiling down at me. “Did you tell him you’re the happiest you’ve ever been?” He joked and I just grinned at him. “Yeah.” His eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really?” I nodded. “I told him I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.” My hands rested on his forearms, as his hands held my waist. He smiled at me before dropping his forehead to mine. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” He said before I smiled up at him. “So I guess we’re both happy.” I said and he nodded before lifting me up onto the railing. “Unbelievably happy.” He said as he stepped between my legs and kissed me. My arms went around his neck and I moaned as he tugged on my bottom lip. “This reminds me of one of our favorite positions back home.” I said as he pulled away. “You mean when I fuck you on the kitchen counter like the dirty girl you are?” He said, kissing beneath my ear and sending a shiver down my spine. “You fuck me on any surface you can get me on.” I told him, capturing his lips with mine. “Mm, you’re right.” He said. “But you know what surface you haven’t fucked me on?” I asked, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck in my fingers. “What?” He asked, nipping my neck. “Your truck.” He stopped, his eyes meeting mine.

“Are you serious?” He asked and I nodded. “Why not?” He smirked at me. “Are you feeling needy, darlin’?” He asked, hand slowly slipping between my legs, nudging my panties and making me whine. “Yeah.” I was breathless. He pushed a little harder against my clit and I gasped, him taking the opportunity to kiss me, tongue licking into my mouth. “You’re already so wet for me.” He muttered, lips moving to my neck as he rolled my clit with his thumb. My breathing became heavier and I arched into him, one arm around his neck, the other gripping the wrist of the hand under my dress. I moaned quietly as he sucked on my neck and a shiver ran down my spine. I opened my eyes, and gasped again. “Jake.” I whispered, not taking my eyes off the guy in the corner. He hummed but didn’t stop. “Jake.” I said again and he pulled back from my neck, looking at me. “What?” He asked. “It seems we have a voyeur.” I said, nodding to the guy in the back corner. He stiffened and turned around. The guy kind of reminded me of Bob with his glasses.

“Wanna watch?” Jake smirked at the man and immediately the man became cowardly and ran back inside. I smacked his shoulder as he chuckled. “Really?” I asked and he chuckled. “Oh come on, you’re not into exhibitionism?” He asked. “Not with strangers.” I replied and he paused, staring at me. “We’ll explore that later.” He said and I giggled. “Later is good. Because right now, I need you in the back of the truck.” I whispered and he practically growled. He pulled me off the railing and smacked my ass. “Let’s go.” He said and I took off around the building. He grabbed at my waist, making me laugh as I rounded the front and ran for the very back of the parking lot. Jake unlocked the truck as we got closer and I immediately swung the back door open. “Get your ass in there.” He said, smacking my ass again as I climbed in. I tossed my purse in the front seat as he slid in next to me. As soon as the door was closed we were grabbing at each other and Jake immediately pulled me under him. I quickly worked to get his jeans off before pushing his boxers down. He was rock hard, cock slapping against his stomach as he pushed me back down in the seat.

He pushed my dress up before yanking my thong down, tossing them to the floorboard. “Jake.” I whined, the chilly air reminding me how bare I truly was. “I know, darlin’. Just sit still for me.” My hands were up by my head when he grabbed the straps of my dress, pushing them off my shoulders before yanking it down, allowing my breasts to bounce free of their restraints. He lifted one of my legs, my foot pressing against the ceiling as one of my hands held onto the door handle while his lips latched onto my nipples. “Jake.” I gasped, fingers of my free hand weaving into his hair. I reached between us, fingers wrapping around his cock. “Need you.” I whined, guiding him closer to my entrance. I was startled when his hand wrapped around my neck. “You need me, huh?” He asked and I nodded as best I could. “Gotta give my girl what she wants, don’t I?” With that he thrust into me harshly. The pain made me yelp but it felt so good at the same time.

Jake stilled for a moment, lips meeting mine. “You okay?” He asked. I found it sweet that he cared but at the same time, I didn’t want him to stop. “Just fuck me right.” I said and he chuckled. “Whatever you want, darlin’.” He kissed me again as he pulled out, before slamming back into me. He found a rough pace which I loved and I threw my head back as I moaned loudly. “Oh fuck, Jake!” I cried out as he hit that one spot deep inside me. “You like that?” He asked and I nodded. “Does that feel good?” He sat up, keeping me close as he fucked into me. “You’re not getting out of this truck until you cum on my cock, darlin’.” I moaned loudly. “Yes. Fuck, Jake! Don’t stop!” I begged and he didn’t, his pace became more rough and I couldn’t resist reaching up and kissing him.

But I was startled when he pulled me into his lap, sitting back in the seat. I whined as he stilled. “Use your words, darlin’.” He said, rolling his hips and making me gasp. “So big.” I mumbled, burying my face in his chest. “So full.” I truly did feel full, like there was no space left inside me at all. Jake continued to roll his hips until I sat up, rolling my own. Our moans both filled the truck, his hands groping my breasts as my own hands rested on his shoulders. I started bouncing on him and his hands left my breasts for my hips, helping me in my movements. I felt my orgasm slowly building and I picked up my pace. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked and I nodded. His lips found my nipple and the pleasure inside me built more. “Yes, Jake!” I cried out. “I’m so close, darlin’.” So was I. “Jake. Jake! Cum inside me!” I said as I chased my high. I was a babbling mess as I met his thrusts. “You want me to?” He asked and I nodded. “Please. Fill me up!” I had never needed something so bad in my life. He gripped my neck, making me look at him as he fucked up into me.

“I’m gonna keep your pretty little pussy so full.” His other hand wrapped around my neck as well, keeping me still as he fucked me roughly and with one lick to my nipple I was tumbling over the edge. I screamed as my orgasm had my body shaking and not long after he pulled me down onto his cock, hot ropes of cum filling me up. We were breathing heavily as he pulled me into a kiss, trying to come down from his own high. After we caught our breath I took a minute. I was so full of cum, it was dripping onto our legs. “I’m gonna need my panties back.” I said and he raised a brow. “I’d rather see my cum drip down your thighs all night.” He said and I chuckled. “I’d rather keep it inside me.” I said, nipping at his bottom lip. With that I took a deep breath, laying my head on his chest as his arms went around me. “I love you, Katie.” He whispered in my ear. “I love you too, Jake.” I said, leaning up and kissing his cheek.

With that we got dressed and straightened ourselves out before wandering back inside. “Where’d you two go?” Phoenix asked, handing us some drinks. “They were in the back of Jake’s truck.” Coyote said, appearing next to Jake. My jaw dropped and a blush crept up my neck at his words. “Ho-how did you know?” I whispered and he laughed. Jake wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. “How could we not?” He asked and Payback walked over. “We saw the truck rocking from the front doors!” He yelled out, making the blush grow. My eyes shifted to the floor and suddenly Jake’s arm disappeared from my shoulders, making me feel vulnerable. “You don’t have to yell it out.” He said to Payback, his tone low. “Now quit laughing, both of you.” He said and they stopped. Jake turned back to me, his arm going over my shoulders again. “You okay?” He asked and I nodded. “Just ridiculously embarrassed. We hung around for a few more hours and just before we left, Coyote and Payback both came up to me when Jake walked away. Neither of them looked at me and I didn’t look at them. “Katie?” Coyote asked and I turned to him. Now they were looking at me. “We just… wanted to apologize for earlier.” Payback said. “We crossed a line, and we’re sorry.” Coyote continued. I felt awkward sitting here with both of them. “Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s okay.” I said, and they shook their heads. “But it’s not. We’re deeply sorry, Katie. Can you forgive us?” Payback asked and after a second of silence, I nodded. “Yeah, I can.” They opened their arms and I pulled them into a hug. “Everything okay over here?” Jake asked as he came back. “Great.” Coyote squeaked out as I squeezed both of them.

That weekend was spent studying, and having a lot of sex. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I decided come Sunday I would shower, alone. Much to Jake’s dismay. I took a lengthy shower, taking the time to shave my legs, exfoliate, do a hair mask, the whole nine yards. By the time I was done the water was running cold. I shut off the water and opened the curtain. I took a deep breath, feeling much better than I had before I got in. I reached for my towel but jumped back when something fell off. I looked on the ground to see a spider. It was so big it would probably barely fit into the palm of my hand. “JAKE!” I screamed, grabbing the extendable shower head and aiming at the spider. If this thing so much as moved I was ready to completely soak the house. “What?!” He sounded panicked and even looked it when he saw me. He saw where I was aiming and he paled slightly. “Holy shit. That thing is ginormous.” He said, looking down at it. “Kill it!” I demanded. “I’m not gonna kill it.” He said.

“Then get it out of here and take it far away!” I said. He just chuckled and disappeared. “JAKE!” He just left me here?! “Calm down. I went to get this.” It was a flyswatter and he bent down, sliding it under the spider's legs. “If that thing gets near me, I’m drowning it.” I said as he stood. “It’ll be fine.” He said. But it wasn’t. The spider fell off of the fly swatter and I screamed. Jake stood still until it started towards him and as a reaction he stomped on it. Then, it was like my nightmares came to life. Thousands upon thousands of tiny black dots came out from under the crushed bug, covering the floor. A high pitched squeal escaped Jake and I both as they started up his legs. “SPRAY IT!” He squealed and I turned on the water, soaking the floor as he ran out. But not even a second later he rushed back in. “GET THEM OFF ME!” He all but dove into the shower and I soaked him from head to toe with the sprayer. It felt like an eternity before we felt like he was clean and the floor was safe. “I’m sorry Jake but we now have to burn this house to the ground.” I said and he shook his head. “No, we don’t. But we will bomb it and I’ll get an exterminator in here.” He said as we both stared at all the dead spiders on the floor. “Might wanna get someone to make sure there’s no water damage as well.”

A little while later we had the floor cleaned up, killing a few stragglers as we went. But I had changed into one of his sweatshirts and some shorts before walking downstairs. “I can’t believe that happened.” I said, a shiver running down my spine. I reached into the fridge, pulling out some chicken for dinner and setting the package in the sink. I looked up to see Jake holding a bouquet of roses. “Aw, Jake.” I said, stepping forward and taking the bouquet from him. “But what are they for?” I asked. He looked nervous, fiddling with something behind his back. “To soften the blow.” I furrowed my brows and grew nervous. “A-are you breaking up with me?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes. “What? No! Darlin, no!” He said, wrapping his arms around me. “But you said they were to ‘soften the blow’.” He quickly shook his head. “For me! The blow to me.” I furrowed my brows even more confused. “Don’t freak out. But after Friday night, we went without condoms the entire weekend. It’s completely up to you, but just in case…” He set a small box on the counter and I looked at it. “Plan B?” I asked, setting down the flowers on the counter and picking up the box. “It’s just in case. I know that we made our decision to go without the condoms. But I wanted you to have it if you wanted it. This isn’t me forcing it on you, it’s just if you want it.” I bit my lip, looking down at the box.

“Thank you.” I told him. “I know we never discussed kids or anything, but I want you to know I support you in whatever you want.” He said and I smiled up at him. “Thank you, babe.” I said, standing on my toes and kissing his cheek. We cooked dinner together, me sitting in his lap as we ate. The night was relaxing. We watched a movie together before we finally decided to go to bed. Jake was lying in bed as I brushed my teeth and stared at the box on the counter. I was torn. Jake and I never talked about kids, but it’s not something I ever saw myself having. I could never imagine myself as a mother. Once I finished brushing my teeth I grabbed the box, opening it and popping the pill out of the blister pack and popping it in my mouth. I stuck my mouth under the stream of water from the faucet and swallowed it. Once I was done and ready for bed I crawled in next to Jake who already had the lights off. I laid down and immediately his arms went around me, pulling my side into his chest.

“Goodnight, darlin’.” I didn’t respond. I simply laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling as he held me. “I took the pill.” I whispered. It was quiet for a second before he spoke up. “Are you okay?” He asked, shifting so he could look at me. “Yeah. I just felt like you should know.” I told him and he smiled at me. “Like I told you, I’m following your lead here.” I turned to him. “So you’re not upset?” I asked and he shook his head. “I could never be upset at you for doing what you think is best.” He said and I stared at him for a minute before leaning in and kissing him softly. “I love you.” I told him. “I love you too, darlin’.”

That week we managed to get an exterminator in there and someone to check for water damage. Everything in the house was fine and there were no more baby spiders, so Jake and I could finally breathe. It was early October and I was knee deep in studying for midterms. “Hey, darlin’.” I looked up to see Jake walking towards me. He was only in a pair of shorts, deciding to forgo a shirt which was very, very distracting. “Hi.” I said, going back to focus on my notes. Just after midterms we’ll start our clinicals and that has me on edge. “Can I have a moment of your time?” He asked. “Only a moment.” I said, grinning at him. “I wanted to talk to you about Halloween.” He said, sitting down across from me. I raised a brow at him as I copied another note. “Okay. What about it?” In truth, I haven’t thought about Halloween once. I got to trick or treat a few times as a kid but by the time I was nine, it stopped. We didn’t even hand out candy. My parents just pretended the holiday didn’t exist. “Do you have any preference on costumes?” He asked. “Um no. I didn’t think we were dressing up.” I said and he looked at me, shocked.

“Not dressing up? We have Mav’s halloween party to go to! Then we have to hand out candy on Halloween! We have to dress up to give the kids candy!” He said. “Okay,” I said, a little surprised. “I don’t really have any ideas or preferences on costumes.” I told him, setting my pencil down. “Okay good, because I think we should go classic. Cowboy and Cowgirl.” He said, using his hands to make me see the ‘picture’. “I’m at a little disadvantage here. You have everything you need for that costume. I don’t.” I said and he shook his head. “That’s why we are going shopping after your midterms. Jeans and a shirt should be easy to find, boots and a hat will take a little longer.” I smiled at him. “I may already have a shirt. But we can go shopping for everything else.” I said and he seemed excited. “Great! We’re gonna be the best looking couple there!” He said, standing and kissing my cheek before he disappeared upstairs.

Soon midterms came and I was shaking the morning of. Thankfully, we can fit all of our tests into one day but it was overwhelming. I got dressed and did my hair and makeup before going downstairs. “What are you still doing here?” I asked, shocked to see Jake in the kitchen. He’s supposed to be on base by six, which is when I get up. “I told Mav I would be a little late today.” I furrowed my brows, confused. “Why?” I asked just as the oven timer went off. “Because you have midterms today.” He said, pulling what smelled like egg bites out of the oven. “So you need a good breakfast.” He popped a few on a plate. “Some coffee.” He also slid a mug of coffee, just how I like it towards me. “And I wanted to make your lunch.” He said. “Oh, Jake.” I said as he slid my lunchbox closer. “And you need good luck kisses.” He came around the counter, taking me in his arms and kissing me until I was dizzy. “You’re amazing.” I said, kissing him again. “No, you are. You’re going to blow that test out of the water.” He said.

“You didn’t have to stay home to do all this for me.” I said and he shook his head, walking back towards the fridge. “No, I wanted to, so I did.” He opened the fridge and reached inside before pulling out my water bottle and setting it next to my lunchbox. “I love you, have a good day and I’ll see you back here this evening.” He said, kissing me again before heading towards the door. “Absolutely amazing.” I muttered before taking a bite of my breakfast. Once I was done, I put the dishes in the dishwasher and grabbed my stuff, heading out the door. I rode to school quietly, trying to just breathe and keep myself calm. I walked inside with plenty of time to spare and I decided to go ahead and get into my classroom to get prepared. I was being very meticulous about my setup when Annie sat next to me. “How do you feel?” She asked and I let out a shaky breath. “Like I’m going to cry and throw up.” I replied. “Me too.” Brooke said, sitting on my other side. I took a sip of my water, visibly shaking. “Good morning, everyone.” One of our professors, Dr. Drakes said as he walked in. “Your microbiology exam is the longest, so we will be starting with that.” I shook some more. Microbiology was my worst subject and now I was terrified. “Good luck.” He told us before handing out our exams.

I cried the whole way home. As soon as I got into the driveway I put the parking brake on and got out. I took my time gathering my things and tried to stop my tears before walking inside. Once I felt like I calmed down enough I got out of my truck, slowly making my way inside. But as soon as the door closed behind me the tears started. “Katie?” I could smell food cooking as he stepped out of the kitchen. “Hey, how’d it go?” He asked and I immediately started crying again. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” He asked and I dropped everything before rushing to him. I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him as he wrapped his own arms around me. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his tone a little more serious. “I’m sorry.” I cried. “For what?” He asked, fingers running through my hair. “For failing.” I said. “You failed your tests?” He asked, holding me at arms length. “I think I did.” I said and he looked at me confused. “You think? So you haven’t gotten your results yet?” He asked and I shook my head. “No.” He chuckled, wiping the tears from my eyes. “Then you have no reason to stress.” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “You’re not mad?” I asked and he furrowed his brows. “No, why would I be?” He asked. “I think I failed Jake. That’s not good.” I said and he pulled me close again, kissing my forehead. “I don’t care if you did fail. That’s no reason for me to be mad at you, and you gave it your best shot. I could never be mad at you for doing your best.” He said.

“Really?” I asked and he nodded, kissing my gently. “Yes, really. Now, why don’t you go shower? Dinner will be done in about an hour.” I sniffled and nodded before slowly making my way upstairs. I took my time in the shower and once I was done I slipped into one of Jake’s Longhorns shirts. I looked into the mirror, seeing my eyes were still puffy. I wet a rag and put cold water on my eyes for a moment before ringing out the rag and making my way downstairs. I was stunned at what I saw before me. The lights were off but candles were lit all over the room, there was music playing softly and Jake was setting plates on the dining room table. “You like it?” He asked, turning to me. I gave him a soft smile. “I don’t feel like I deserve it.” I said and he sighed, coming over and taking my hand. “Of course you do. You worked hard.” He said as he led me over to the table, pulling out my chair for me. I sat down, the smell of the steak wafting into my nose. “God this smells heavenly.” I said as he disappeared into the kitchen. He came back out a moment later, bottle and glasses in hand. “And champagne to celebrate.” He said. “Jake. I already said I don’t think I did well.” I told him and he smiled at me. “Well then, we’ll celebrate the fact that midterms are over.” He said, making me giggle as he filled my glass. He sat down, holding up his glass. “To peaceful days from here on out.” He said and I smiled, clinking my glass against his and taking a sip.

“Jake, I don’t know.” I told him, looking in the mirror in the dressing room. “Come on, darlin’. It can’t be that bad.” He said and I sighed. “But I feel like it is!” I told him. “Just let me see.” I sighed before pushing open the dressing room door. Jake brought me down to a few western stores in San Diego to get me an outfit for Halloween. “Oh… my god.” He said and my cheeks grew warm. “I told you it was bad.” I said and he shook his head, standing from the chair. “No, no it’s not. You look… breathtaking.” He said. I sighed and turned to a mirror, looking at myself. The jeans were nice. They were light wash flare jeans that accentuate my curves. But the shirt was pushing my comfort zone. It was like a cropped corset, with bones in the front. It was a one shoulder top with a cut out on the chest. It looked like it just barely cupped my boobs and held them up. “I think you look gorgeous, darlin’.” He said, resting his hands on my waist before he kissed the back of my head. “You sure?” I asked. “Positive. How about this…” He said, turning me to face him. “We buy it. You try it on next week, and if you still don’t like it then we’ll get you something else.” He said and I nodded.

I changed back into my dress and Jake carried the clothes as we looked at all of the boots. “See anything you like?” He asked. There were a bunch and they were beautiful. “I see a lot, but I don’t like this rounded toe. I like this square shape or the pointed ones.” I said and turned to find him smiling at me. “You have exquisite taste in boots.” He said. After another hour, and many boots later we found the pair I loved. The uppers were a deep brown color but the shaft was white and they were gorgeous, and surprisingly comfortable. “Alright, let’s check out.” He said and I furrowed my brows. “I thought you said I needed a hat too?” I asked and he chuckled. “You do, and I’ve got that covered.” He said, taking my hand and leading me up to the register. “So, you’ve seen my outfit. But I have no idea what yours looks like.” I said, resting my hand on my hip. “That’s because it’s a surprise, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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french-unknown · 6 months

Text

𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖊

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘: luffy, zoro, nami, usopp, sanji, robin 𝖈/𝖜: fluff, domestic 𝖜/𝖈: 2.6k +

| m a s t e r l i s t | - | p t . 2 | - | p t . 3 | | e v e n t . s u m m a r y |

𝖑𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖞

trick and treat

Attracted by all the lights on in the residential area of the island, you approached them with Luffy.

To your great astonishment, there were a large number of children wandering between the different houses in different costumes, more or less frightening. You were confused to see so many children outside at that hour. And above all, without supervision. However, after all the islands you had visited, the costumes didn't surprise you that much.

You then fixed your gaze on a particular group who went up to the steps of the house to your right.

They knocked on the door, and when a woman opened the door, they said "trick or treat" as they handed out each of the containers. Then, much to your confusion, the woman laughed before taking out a bag of candy which she shared among the children. As if it were perfectly normal to give candy to a group of costumed children who ring the doorbell after dark. You stayed where you were while the woman closed the door and the children left for the next house.

The same process began again.

On every street corner, with all the groups of children, everything happened the same way. Always with the same sentence.

Trick or treat?

As you glanced next to you to talk to Luffy about it, you noticed that he had also disappeared. You looked around in panic and ended up finding him alone at the entrance to a house a few meters from you.

You could only run toward him at the same moment he knocked on the door.

A woman came out as you reached him. She looked at you strangely and looked you up and down.

"Trick or Treat?" the black-haired boy almost yelled.

"Aren’t you too old for candy hunting?" She asked, perplexed.

"We’re never too old for candy!" Luffy declared with a laugh.

Faced with the innocence of the response, as well as the relaxed behavior of your partner, the woman also relaxed and laughed in turn. She seemed to be more comfortable.

"And what are you dressed in?" she questioned happily as she pulled out a bag of sweets from her back.

Immediately, Luffy took his straw hat off his head in order to turn it upside down and hold it out towards the woman as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"As pirates, ma’am!" He responded with good humor.

"You should improve your disguise, then." She laughed. "You two don't really look like them. You're not scary enough!"

"We're not this kind of pirates." He retorted.

The woman then stepped back before closing her door, not without greeting. Luffy then took your hand and walked away as well, waving.

You spent the rest of your evening being pulled from house to house by an excited Luffy who couldn't hold still at the thought of having more candy. He wasn't your lover anymore, just a little boy.

𝖟𝖔𝖗𝖔

haunted castle

It was evening, and night would soon fall.

However, thanks to a certain swordsman whose sense of direction equated with his abstinence, you found yourself at the exit of a dark and foreboding forest, looking at a gothic castle that seemed anything but welcoming. Nervously, you passed the large black wrought iron gates that demarcated the land and thus entered the gardens that surrounded the fortress.

Everything was fallow and unmaintained. The shrubs and bushes were in random shapes while the grass was tall and lush. The trees were so gnarled that you wondered if it was really normal. The winding sandy walking paths didn't make you want to venture into the plots either.

However, what terrified you the most was the feeling of being observed from the moment you went through the gates.

Unfortunately, the boot prints you saw in the sand—made obvious by the lack of other marks—forced you to move forward into the green space of the property. At first, you huffed loudly but you still went anyway.

You followed the footprints, eyes glued to the ground because of the fear, praying to find Zoro as quickly as possible.

Around you, you heard the vegetation rustling with its branches, leaves and thorns clashing. And this even if there was no wind. Furthermore, despite the abundance of shelter for animals, you heard no birdsong or rabbit footsteps. You understood that an October evening was not the most favorable but you still found it quite suspicious in such a lush environment for animals.

Something cold then touched your hand.

You jumped so hard that you felt the tension in your neck go down to your shoulders. A shiver of fear ran through your entire body and goosebumps immediately covered your arms without you being able to do anything.

Yet, when you looked at where the contact was coming from, there was nothing.

You wanted to leave.

From there, you started trotting to find Zoro and you finally found him walking between two bushes. Hands in his pockets, he walked quietly. You immediately jumped on him to ask him how he ended up there.

"I wanted to see if there was anyone in the castle to offer me a drink but I can’t get out of the garden." he explained naturally.

Suddenly, a child's laughter was heard behind you and when you turned around, there was nothing.

You immediately grabbed the swordsman's hand and towed him towards the exit. You ran as fast as you could with fear coursing through your veins as well. You were so scared that you were convinced that, if he put up the slightest resistance, you would have been ready to knock him out so you could drag his unconscious carcass out of there.

When you passed the gates, you didn't stop and continued to rush towards the boat.

𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖎

horror movie night

You and Nami were the only two who were assigned to guard the Sunny during this stopover. And the navigator wanted to spend the evening watching a movie.

What Nami wanted, Nami got!

So she convinced Sanji to keep the ship for a few more hours and took you to the nearest town to find a movie rental store. As soon as you entered the shop, you were immediately intrigued by the simplicity of the store. There was a desk, where a paunchy man was reading, as well as two shelves full of binders whose spines were annotated with words such as "romance", "detective" and "autobiography".

To your greatest amazement, Nami went straight to the one marked "horror".

You tried to hold her back at first but she avoided your hold and opened the binder. She flipped through the pages. You then noticed that, on each page, there was the title of a film with its summary and its official poster. But all these images of blood, killers and weapons made you a little uncomfortable.

"Um...Nami?" you called her.

She muttered in response, too busy reading the synopses.

"I’m not sure about the horror movie?" You continued, unsure.

"Come on!" She said, looking up at you. "I really want to see one. And then, if you're afraid, you can just snuggle up against me!"

The idea of being able to cuddle up to the girl you've been crushing on for a while made you shut up for good. You had been looking around for a few months but nothing had come of it yet. Still on cloud nine, you didn't follow when she retrieved one of the papers that interested her before bringing it to the man behind the counter.

When you reconnected with the outside world, the man came back from the back room with a Den Den Mushi who had probably already recorded the desired film.

"It’s 1,000 Berry to rent the Cameko. Do you have anything to project?" he asked then, facing Nami who shook her head, and he returned with another snail even bigger. "It's 1,000 more for the Proko that goes with it. That will, therefore, be 2,000 Berry. They must be returned in good condition and their care is your responsibility for the entire duration of the rental."

Nami tried to bargain, and when she reached a price she thought was fair, she paid the man so that you could finally leave with your two Den Den Mushi.

Arriving on the ship, you found Sanji waiting for you to leave and he had prepared hot chocolates for you as well as snacks. So you both settled into the beds in the women's quarters, warm under the covers, with your hot chocolates and snacks.

Nami started the movie and you spent the night pressed together, shaking in fear.

𝖎𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 SOURCE | onepiece.fandom.com - Den Den Mushi - The Cameko (カメコ, Kameko, VIZ: "Cam-snail") are baby Visual Den Den Mushi who have yet to gain the ability to display signals from other Visual Den Den Mushi. They are able to store images and videos, as well as transmit them as signals to their adult form, the Proko. - The Proko (プロコ, Puroko, VIZ: "Pro-snail") are an older Visual Den Den Mushi that have gained the ability to receive signals emanating from the Cameko, while simultaneously projecting and disseminating the visual content captured by the Cameko onto larger video displays either via wires connected to a display or by using their eye to project the light.

You just found my 1st Easter Egg!

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ (・º. • )

𝖚𝖘𝖔𝖕𝖕

pumpkins carving

"Mine is better." Usopp declared confidently as he wielded his scraping tool.

The two of you were sitting face-to-face, cross-legged, on the floor of his workshop. An old blanket was under your buttocks to protect the floor. Between you stood a dozen tools of all kinds, ranging from knives to scrapers to markers as well as, most importantly, two large pumpkins.

It had been at least an hour since Usopp came back with a pumpkin under each arm and asked you to dig one with him. You immediately jumped at the opportunity and, very quickly, this whole experience had turned into a competition.

Who would make the best Jack-o'lantern?

As soon as you had started gutting them—keeping the parts removed so Sanji could cook them, obviously—the sniper was already taunting you. He talked to you about ratios and measurements so that the eyes and mouth were perfectly proportioned to the size of the food.

But you preferred to go by instinct with your marker and your imagination.

Throughout the process, you saw him trying to cheat to see what your Jack-o'lantern looked like from trying to kiss you to peeking into or waiting for you to go to the toilet to go to your side of the blanket. Even after a few strokes with the spatula, he was still trying approaches.

Finally, after two intensive hours of pumpkin carving and with a sticky floor and hands, the Jack-o'lanterns were finished.

Then came the time to decide between you.

Obviously, you each voted for your creations so, to find out the winner, you asked the entire crew to vote for their favorite pumpkin. Unfortunately, the votes didn't help because, after four more votes from each side, you were still tied.

It was only when Sanji called a truce for the meal that you stopped bickering.

Despite this, when evening came, the little arguments were back. So you were still bickering when you were getting ready for bed and then when you were in the bed itself. When you were both exhausted, you decided to declare both winners as well.

Satisfied, you lay down comfortably to sleep. And there, in the crook of his arms, with the warm blanket covering you and his smell of gunpowder surrounding you, he kissed you on the forehead before whispering to you in the dark.

"Mine was better."

𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖏𝖎

winter dessert cooking

The kitchen of the Thousand Sunny was exceptionally mess-like.

Ingredients and dishes were lying all over the counter and it was mainly your fault. Whether it was the pot of honey that wasn't put away, the flour that you had unintentionally sprinkled outside of the bowl or the whisks and spatulas that were lying here and there, it didn't at all resemble Sanji's clean habits.

However, for the moment, he didn't really care.

For him, cooking deliciously smelled of honey and spices. His discerning nose even detected slight traces of citrus and vanilla. Besides, what mainly occupied him was you, in an adorable apron—at his request—who was stirring the dry ingredients in the bowl while keeping a nervous eye on the pan on the stove.

"It’s boiling!" You exclaimed hastily. "Sanji! It's boiling!"

"Pour the liquid into the bowl, then." He laughed at your disheveled but still adorable appearance.

You then rushed to the pan to put out the fire before carefully lifting it to pour its contents into your first container. Then you put the pan down and started stirring again.

"Sanji!" you called him. "There are lumps."

"Stir more." he replied, still leaning on the counter next to you to admire you.

But, instead of stirring more, you suddenly let go of the whip before turning towards him. In passing, you collected a small handful of flour which you threw at him meanly on his own apron. You rested your hip on the counter and crossed your arms before looking into his eyes.

"If I asked to cook this with you," you began."it was to cook WITH you. Not for you to stand and watch me."

At your sulking tone, Sanji just laughed lightly, even though inside he was exultant to see you pouting. So he approached you, smiling, and took your place in front of the bowl to start mixing again for you. Satisfied to finally see him working, you stayed by his side to watch him whip skillfully.

"Amour, can you get me the melted butter, please?" He asked, looking at you. When you returned with the requested ingredient, he temporarily stopped his task to lean towards you and kiss you gently. He finally pulls away from your lips after a short while. "Thank you."

And he mixed the butter with the preparation and poured everything into a dish that he handed to you. He then opened the oven and watched you put the gingerbread in the oven. Once he closed the door, he came up behind you to place kisses on your neck.

"We have 20 minutes of cooking time," he explained to you. "Any ideas for what to do until then?"

𝖗𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓

exploring graveyards

When Robin had asked you earlier in the evening to get ready because she was taking you on a date, you had been ecstatic. You had imagined a walk in a romantic place, a meeting at the library or even, let's be crazy, a restaurant.

Yet, now that you found yourself walking with her through a cemetery, you were starting to regret it a little.

"I'm not sure we're allowed to just wander around here, Robin." You tried, hoping it would get you out of there.

She looked at you.

"It’s not like they’re going to come and complain to anyone." She answered you, smiling.

You smiled back at her even if yours was somewhat shaky. While you were uncomfortable walking around in the middle of the night, with no one around except your partner, among the graves of people you didn't even know, Robin seemed to be peaceful.

Happy even.

So you didn't dare say anything more and you simply took her hand before moving closer to her. But, while her discreet smile on her lips and her almost sparkling eyes told you that she was happy to be there, she said nothing. Not a single word to distract you from the unromantic or even terrifying setting.

The hooting of an owl above you made you jump.

As Robin chuckled at your leap, you asked her why she wanted to come here.

At first, you had simply asked the question to break the silence—and to make her forget your startle—but, as soon as she started to answer you, you were glad you had asked.

In fact, she then began to tell you that she was looking for the tomb of a very well-known researcher in the world of archaeology. Since she started, she continued by telling you what research he had carried out and how it had advanced her study circle. A soft, enjoying smile curled her lips as she spoke quietly and her eyes shone with her passion for history.

You then drank in her words as she focused on her interest in studying skeletons and what it could teach her about the person's life as well as the society that surrounded them before their death. She continued her speech throughout your visit to the cemetery to the point where, when she finally wanted to leave a few hours later, you had not noticed the time had passed.

You had been captivated.

𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖔𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜!

𝖏𝖔𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖚𝖕𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @idsmash717 @lys-ada @xomingyu @parkyrr @yasmiinberkaa @dozcan123 @anotherproblemsos

#one piece #one piece x reader #luffy #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #nami #nami x reader #usopp #usopp x reader #sanji #sanji x reader #nico robin #nico robin x reader #halloween #halloween 2023

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tommykinardkink · 4 days

Text

slide on through my window

@bucktommyweek Prompt: Day One - Alternate first meeting Rating: Teen and up Summary: Based on this other prompt - “You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good.” Notes: for #bucktommyweekend

The first inkling Tommy Kinard has that something’s wrong is when Matilda doesn’t come greet him at the front door. She's usually there as soon as the door opens, winding herself around his legs purring loudly

He steps into his apartment, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter as he cranes his neck in search of his cat.

That’s when he gets an eyeful of his second clue that his day’s gonna be off to a weird start.

There’s a half-naked man sprawled out across his couch, snoring softly. Matilda, the traitorous little fur ball, is curled up on the man’s lap, tail wrapped around her body. She opens her eyes but doesn’t lift her head, watching as Tommy creeps forward.

For a moment, all he can do is stare. Because this is weird, right? Even by LA standards. Tommy allows himself some time to take in the stranger’s appearance. By his guess, the stranger could be about his height, but isn’t quite as broad. Despite his large frame, his features are boyish, with a birthmark at the corner of his right eye and above his brow and his mouth softened in sleep. His sandy blond hair is a mess, almost as though someone had been running their hands through it. That combined with the missing shirt—Tommy doesn’t allow his gaze to linger on the tattoo on his left pec—and Tommy can’t help but wonder if there’s another half-naked stranger in his apartment somewhere.

It’s been a long night, and an even longer shift at the 127. The whole drive home, all he’d been able to think about was snuggling Matilda, and then falling face first into bed and crashing for the rest of the day. This stranger has robbed him of both those things.

“Hey.” Tommy inches forward and pokes the man in the shoulder. A loud snore is all he gets in response. He frowns and rubs a hand over his face before trying again, poking him harder this time.

“C’mon, wake up.”

“Wha’?” The stranger jerks awake, sitting upright so quickly that he almost head butts Tommy in the face. It's only reflexes honed from years of Muay Thai that save him from a broken nose. Bright impossibly blue eyes blink at him in confusion. Somehow, the man hasn’t disturbed Matilda at all, and she rests her chin on her little paws and watches the standoff through a half-lidded gaze.

“Who’re you?” the stranger asks in a sleep roughened voice.

Tommy straightens to his full height, suddenly indignant.

“Who’m I? I’m the guy whose apartment you broke into,” he snaps.

The stranger squints at him before his expression breaks into a broad, still somewhat tipsy, grin. Tommy does his best not to notice how it brightens up the guy’s whole face.

“Nah.”

Jesus Christ.

Tommy draws in a deep breath through his mouth before releasing it slowly out his mouth. Grace, he reminds himself. It’s important to always extend grace to others, even when they don’t deserve it. Even when they’re intruding on his very limited free time.

“What’s your name?”

“Ev—Buck.”

“Evbuck?”

The beautiful dimwit blinks up at Tommy, clearly baffled. He slowly lowers himself down onto his elbows—Tommy is about to warn him not to get too comfortable—and shakes his head.

“My name’s Evan. Friends call me Buck.”

Well, Tommy sure as hell isn’t this guy’s friend.

“Okay, so. Evan. You broke into my home.”

This doesn’t seem to sink in any better than it did the first time. Evan frowns at him, then glances down at Matilda. She blinks placidly back at him.

“You’re Chimney’s roommate?”

Now it’s Tommy’s turn to be confused. Is Evan simply drunk, or is he having some sort of seizure? Tommy belatedly wonders if he shouldn’t just call 911 and be done with it. This entire conversation is giving him a headache.

But Evan has apparently used the brief silence to fill in some blanks in his mind. Only, he apparently spells like a toddler, judging by the way his shoulders abruptly sag in relief.

“Man, I guess Chimney didn’t tell you I was coming.” He flops back down onto the couch, the picture of ease as he beams up at Tommy. “I’m really sorry about that. He said I could—”

“What the—who is…” Tommy takes another deep breath. It doesn’t help, so he counts to ten before saying in as calm a voice as he can manage, “Evan. Are you on drugs?”

Now Evan looks offended. Good.

“No.” A beat. “I’m just a little drunk. But,” he adds, when Tommy opens his mouth to speak, “not so drunk that I can’t read… this.” He rummages around in the back pocket of his jeans, having to arch his back and lift his hips off the couch to do so and.

Is Tommy having some kind of Freudian nightmare? Is that what this is? Did he just crash on one of the bunks in the station and this is all just a figment of his overtired imagination? Is he gonna have to pinch himself?

But no, there's no time for that. He watches as Evan pulls a worn little square of paper from his pocket and waves it under Tommy’s nose triumphantly. Tommy snatches it out of his hand to peer at it.

Jesus, no wonder the kid had gotten lost. Tommy looks down at the chicken scratch on the bit of paper, practically illegible even in the early morning light. Tommy’s eyes narrow.

“What’d you say your friend’s name is?”

“Chimney,” Evan replies promptly, as though that’s at all helpful.

“The name on his birth certificate,” he clarifies through clenched teeth. Tommy can practically feel his eye twitching.

“How the hell am I s’posed to know?” Evan’s voice rises slightly in exasperation. “He just said—Ow!”

Tommy jumps, the piece of paper fluttering from his hands to the floor as Evan lets out a loud yelp. It’s easy to guess the source of his sudden discomfort. Matilda, who’d been handling the situation a whole lot better than Tommy, had seemingly lost her patience with the way Evan kept shifting around beneath her and stuck her tiny, needle-like claws through his jeans in an effort to keep him still. Evan stares down at her, eyes wide, big body motionless.

And. It’s stupid. Utterly ridiculous. This stupid man had broken into Tommy’s apartment and stolen his cat’s affection. But even though Tommy knows first hand how much those claws hurt, Evan makes no move to push Matilda away or retaliate. And just like that, Tommy feels most of his irritation slipping away. He lets out a gusty sigh and drops down into the loveseat opposite Evan.

“Okay, let’s try to figure this out,” he says, trying to be reasonable. “I’m telling you that you’re in the wrong apartment. No one by the name of Chimney,” Tommy pulls a face, “lives here.” Evan looks like he’s about to argue, so Tommy continues hurriedly, “I also don’t believe that you’re some kind of weirdo who just breaks into people’s homes so you can sleep on their couches.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m not.”

“Right. Glad to hear it.” They stare at each other for a moment; Evan is definitely pouting. Tommy forces himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. “So this leaves us with a third option: this was all just a big mixup. Which, given your friend’s handwriting, isn’t surprising. So. No harm, no foul.”

“You’re not gonna call the cops?” Evan asks in a small voice.

“I was tempted for a minute.” Tommy looks back over at where his cat is kneading at Evan’s thighs in an effort to make herself comfortable. Evan winces but makes no move to stop her. “But Matilda’s the boss around here, and she seems to like you.”

Evan follows the direction of his gaze and smiles. It’s soft and sweet and Tommy really needs to go to bed. He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and starts swiping through his apps.

"Uh..."

"Relax," Tommy says without looking up. "I'm getting you an uber."

"Thanks, that really nice—" He stops, and the abrupt silence grabs Tommy's attention, worried that Matilda's somehow managed to draw blood. He glances at Evan, only to find the other man looking at him thoughtfully.

"What?"

"You never told me your name."

Oh. It's strange but he feels a flutter of something like nerves for the first time since finding Evan passed out on his couch. He glances down briefly before forcing himself to get it together.

"Tommy. My name's Tommy."

And dear God, what was it with this guy and his smile? Tommy's too old to be getting flustered by some pretty boy and his fucking dimples. He clears his throat and quickly looks away again.

"Well. Evan. It's been nice meeting you. But I think it might be time for you to go."

"Yeah." Evan's smile dims slightly. He seems to shake it off, though, as he turns his attention to Matilda. With one big, gentle hand, he reaches down to scratch under her chin. Tommy can hear her purring from here. "Sorry, babe, but I gotta go," he tells her with a grin. She pushes her face against his hand, demanding that he keep it up, and Tommy has never before been envious of a cat. "But I promise, I'll always remember our time together."

He's so stupid. And adorable. And Tommy needs him to find his shirt, stat.

It takes some coaxing—and Tommy going to the kitchen for some treats—to get Matilda off Evan's lap. Tommy does his best not to stare as the other man gets off the couch and stretches lazily. The flex of his muscles is obscene and Tommy can't help the way his eyes dip to where the happy trail disappears beneath Evan's jeans.

Shit.

Tommy feels his face burning as he rips his gaze away, looking up just in time to catch Evan's little smirk. He can feel his cheeks burning and he pointedly turns his back as Evan pulls his shirt on over his head.

Together they walk to the front door, and the silence feels kinda awkward. A sudden thought occurs to him.

"Hey. How'd you even get in?"

"Huh? Oh." Now it's Evan's turn to blush, and he ducks his head. "I, uh, I came in through the window."

"We're on the third floor."

"Yeah." Evan scratches the back of his neck, expression sheepish. "I wasn't thinking too clearly. But still," he peeks up at Tommy from beneath his lashes, "pretty impressive, right?"

Is he... flirting right now?

But there's this incorrigible grin on Evan's face, impossible to resist, and Tommy can't help smiling back at him.

"Yeah. Pretty impressive."

Tommy's phone buzzes, a notification that the uber's just around the corner. He can't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

"Hey, can I—?" He looks up to find Evan looking slightly nervous. Tommy's expecting a request to use the bathroom but, instead, Evan surprises him.

"Can I have your number?"

"My number?" Tommy scrambles to cover his astonishment and tries for teasing as he asks, "Why, d'you wanna call ahead the next time you break in?"

"No. I wanna take you out for dinner. Or, y'know, maybe for breakfast." Evan's got this cocky smirk on his face, but there's a hint of vulnerability there too.

This is a terrible idea.

That knowledge doesn't stop him from giving Evan his number and watching as he disappears down the hallway and into the elevator.

This was really not how Tommy had expected his morning to go.

But he can't say he minds.

#bucktommyweekend #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #911 abc #my writing

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killersfool · 6 months

Note

fluff w bobby! idk smth like hurt/comfort. maybe she’s had a bad date and goes to bobby and they like confess , idrk but i think that’d be cute

Comfort | ROBERT KEATING

thank you for the request !!

PAIRING: robert keating x f!reader

WORDS: 3.4k

SUMMARY: reader goes on a terrible date. she calls her old work friend, rob, who comforts her and opens up about some hidden feelings.

GENRE: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, fluff

WARNINGS: references to eating disorder

The worst date of my life occured on a Tuesday afternoon, starting at exactly 8.43pm. For starters, the guy was late, 13 minutes late on the dot. Never trust your Tinder matches. I guess I should've figured out what a mess the whole thing would be. I'd sat down at a window seat in Nando's. Sun glowed gently across the table. It gave me a positive outlook on the whole thing. But by the end of the evening, as I left that dreaded restaurant with a soggy bag of chips in my right hand, I was holding back tears. Rain was pouring. My umbrella had broken. Dark clouds had appeared in the sky. Pathetic fallacy. I could hardly even breathe as I sat down in the train.

My first port of call — for some odd reason — was my old work friend. Rob and I had worked together in a restaurant just down my street. We'd been through hell together. My worst memory was when I dropped about ten glasses across the kitchen floor, accidentally smashing them to pieces. The manager heard the crash ring out through the entire restaurant. He ran through the kitchen doors. They swung open as if he was a wild beast prepared to eat me whole. Bones and all. This was the first time I'd made a major mistake as a kitchen porter. I was trying to prepare myself for the incessant shouting to soon ensue. But before I could even build a wall around me, a hand grabbed mine and pulled me out of the kitchen. I wasn't sure who it was grabbing my pinky finger or why they were helping me escape but I didn't complain, I just let them lead me through the main restaurant where guests were staring at us with patient eyes. They really believed we were running around just to ask for their order.

The long mane of curly hair made me realise who was dragging me alone. Robert Keating. The waiter who's sarcasm was off the charts. Each time he came into the kitchen, he'd be going on a rant about how stupid the job was and how much he hated the manager. Most of the chefs agreed. But they'd make sure to put on cheery faces whenever Mr Jacob came in to check everything was alright. Robert had worn Doc Martens to the beach when they had a dinner party to celebrate 10 years of the restaurant. I had made sure to come along with my best dress on and trainers. Robert had appeared with some Doc Marten boots, red shorts and Joy Division shirt, assuring everyone that his boots were 'made for walking on sandy terrain'. Then he complained about them for the entire time. He didn't make any sense.

Once we'd escaped through the front door of 'Jacob's Pizza', we continued running down the street until we got to the park. I knew by that moment I'd sure be fired. No one was running after us. No one really gave two shits about us. We weren't a necessity to the work force. We were just there. Looming.

Rob had sat down on one of the kid's swings (the tiny ones that you can't get into once you grow out of them). He allowed his infinitely long legs to dangle off the edge—not putting them through the holes because he'd surely get stuck which would've been a very Rob thing to do. The park was empty. It was a Tuesday evening. Stars lined the sky. Rob patted the swing next to him, asking me through his motions to join him. I complied. Awkwardly slotted myself in a mildly comfortable position onto the swing. I grabbed onto the rusty chains which had been there for dozens of years. Paint ripped away by years of use, years of bad weather.

"Mr Jacob didn't deserve us. We were too good for him." Sixteen-year-old Rob always thought quite highly of himself—not to the point of being a show off—but just enough to make you shake your head. The use of the collective pronoun was different for him. A change to usual. He was including me in his declaration of greatness. His blue eyes were shining and he'd thrown his apron to the ground. Black button-up shirt and black trousers. His smile was a lighthouse, illuminating that stretch of grass before us.

"I fucked up. Sorry, Rob." I'd looked away from him. Wrung my fingers together, picked at my nails. We'd been working there for months. Of course I had to be the one to make a mistake.

"Hey, don't worry. There's loads of jobs around here. I'm sure you'll find somewhere else," he assured. He reached out a hand between the two swings, let it linger on my shoulder. I followed suit with him. Chucked my apron into the nearest bin. One of those bins that never get emptied. Overflowing with fizzy drinks and sweet packets.

I allowed my head to drop down onto his hand. His fingers took a short hike through my hair.

He then started to laugh. "How the fuck did you drop all those glasses? I swear you purposely tipped the tray over."

"What if I did?" I smirked. It had been accident. Or maybe my irritation at the place just wanted to come out.

Rob was pressing his shoes to the ground, trying to make the swing fly upwards. He'd smiled to himself at my words. "Then I thank you for your service. I'd been trying to get out of there for a while. My band are getting way more gigs and the job was getting in the way of everything."

"Your band? You've never told me about that." I was intrigued. I had no idea he played an instrument. I knew that he loved The Strokes as he'd always put them on the kitchen playlist. I couldn't imagine him on a stage. Performing. Making music. It was the last thing I'd expected he'd do.

"Yeah. We've called it Inhaler. An ode to Eli's asthma—"

"Hewson? He's in it? Fuck no." I'd never been the biggest fan of Elijah. He'd dated my friend and left her heartbroken. I'd never personally spoken to guy but from a distance, I was the slightest bit terrified of him.

"I had no choice! He forced me into it."

"So he's singing, right? Then you're playing what?"

"Bass."

"Really? That's..."

"So sexy. I know."

That's when I shook my head, smiling. His face was serious but as my teeth appeared, so did his. We were both laughing at nothing, giddy because of the air cooling our cheeks. Just his presence, him being next to me, made me feel so much warmer.

Now my eyes are teary, my throat is raw. I'm sat in the corner of a train compartment. Toddlers are screaming at their parents, music is blasting in my ears and the fields turn to blurs of green as I lean back into my seat.

The guy was a prick. A self-centered waste of time who thought the whole world revolved around him and only him. I was asking all the questions. He didn't want to know anything about me. His mouth would never stop moving. I hardly got a single word into any conversation. He showed off about his job, his money, the university he went to and he joked about how much I ate. He'd stared at my stomach when I stood up, as if he was trying to measure my waist with his eyes. That's when I just walked out of the place, taking my remaining chips with me. I don't know why I even agreed to go. He wasn't even nice on the app.

Phone ringing. Hand over my stomach. I had gained weight. I'd started eating more than I had months ago. Food was a comfort, food was a memory-store, food was something to keep me going. There were all kinds of flavours that would bring me back to figments of my past. Eating was a way to reminisce and a way to make new memories. It had irked me—that look in his eye, the raise of a brow. I was skinnier on my Tinder profile. But back then I wasn't happy. Constantly focused on my calorie intake, on how much exercise I had done in a week.

"Hello?" Rob picks up. His words play through my headphones. His voice hasn't changed since I last saw him. It's still low and raspy.

I sniffle, finding it hard to even get my words out. I can see in the train window that my skin is blotchy and red. My bottom lip is quivering. I'm trying to hold everything in. I'm like a bomb on the verge of explosion. I don't like crying. I especially don't like crying on a train where eyes are glancing over in my direction.

"You alright?" He whispers. It's 10pm and I'm wondering what he's been doing. Has he been at a show? I've been trying to keep a track of where they've been going on their tour. Right now he could be absolutely anywhere. The last I heard he was in Scotland.

"What are you up to?" I try to divert the conversation to him. I just want to hear him talk. Anything he tells me, I'll listen.

"I'm back home in Dublin. Eating mince pies. I know it's early but my Ma is too obsessed with Christmas for her own good. It's what, 2nd of November? And she's already got her tree up. Tinsel and everything. What's up with you? You sound different. Has Eli been giving you shit again? That gobshite needs his head knocked in."

He's in Dublin. I'm in Dublin.

"I miss your Ma." I remember the one time we walked home from work together. His Ma had given me a lung constricting hug. She'd thought I was Rob's girlfriend. Told me that he non-stop talked about me. I didn't believe her. I still don't believe her. I could never see Rob having a crush on anyone, let alone me. "It's nothing to do with Eli. Although I agree, he is a little bitch. It's actually this shitty bloke I met on Tinder. He thought he was all that. Most boring guy I've met in my life."

"Instagram, please?"

"I don't trust you with anyone's Instagram."

"At least tell me his name. I want to make fun of him."

"Albert."

"What a name. Honestly, I'm thinking about getting my name legally changed to that. Albert. Wow. I'm impressed."

"He told me his nickname was 'Alby'. I almost laughed." I smile to myself, wiping tears away. I hear Rob snort through the phone.

"Found his Instagram. That was easy. He looks weird. Shit hairline."

"Rob!!! Keep away from his DM's please."

He went silent. He was most definitely already sending him stupid messages. I didn't really mind. The guys deserved shit after what he put me through. Two hours of nonsense. At least the food was good. Nando's is my favourite.

"Aren't you in Dublin? Do you want to come play some bird bingo? It's been a while since I saw you. We've got at least a years supply of mince pies."

I'm cheesing. Sucking in quick breaths as my tears stop falling. The train comes to a halt in the station. My head is leaning against the window, my mouth opens wide as I see a figure sat down on a bench. That familiar mop of hair, those shining eyes, an entire bass guitar case sat beside him. I'm gobsmacked.

The call ends before I can try to speak. Before long, my legs are moving and I'm shuffling through crowds, trying to find the exit. Maybe I was just imagining him. Maybe I just wanted him to be there. But then I'm outside the train, walking down the platform and two arms wrap around my stomach.

"Hey," is all he says, straight into my ear.

He isn't usually this touchy. We used to go for coffee and he'd never hug me. We weren't that kind of friends. Now his arms are holding me flush against his chest and his hair is tickling my ear and I just want to close my eyes and blow the world away.

I turn around to face him. His hands are still on my waist, scrunching the material of my jumper. He has a cardigan on, his eyelashes are so long, he's watching me with worry etched upon his features.

Then I break down. I can't deal with it anymore. I can't hold it in.

"Sweetheart..." He pulls me straight into his chest, hands cupping my head like it's going to split into two. I sob into his cardigan. My palms are against his shoulderblades and his head is on my shoulder. I can feel his nose smush into my skin and he mumbles quiet comforts into the air. "He doesn't deserve you. He's an idiot. Piece of shit." Words of comfort are usually just insults from Rob—but they still make me feel way better.

I don't know what I would've done without him. I keep imagining myself going home and crying into my pillow, no one there to tell me it'll be okay. I'm so glad he's here. I'm so glad he's holding me.

"Let's go home?" He pulls me away the slightest bit just to see my face. His thumb jumps just beneath my eye, wiping away the falling tears. He then gently kisses my nose. I'm shocked and confused. The warmth of his lips against my freezing nose is a welcome relief. I'm sure a sigh escaped my lips at the gesture.

I'm not sure which home he means. His or mine. But wherever we're going, I'll follow him. I want to be somewhere warm. I want to eat some nice, warm food and forget that guy ever even existed. Rob still has an arm around me as we walk through the station. He gives me a packet of tissues and buys me a hot chocolate from Starbucks. Even whilst carrying his entire bass along on his other shoulder, he makes sure to keep an arm around my back, fingers curled over my waist.

"How come you've got your bass?" I taste the hot chocolate. It burns my tongue. My spare hand points along the rather massive case which is definitely heavy.

"I was practicing with the band. I was about to head home when you called me so I ran to the station instead."

"So you lied about the mince pies?"

"Oh no. That is very true. You'll see when we get back. I just lied about where I was—you know, for the surprise element."

His then. We are going to his. I've never been inside his house before. I've only walked down his street and glanced through the windows. He'd always have the best Halloween decorations. The Keating house was always a go to in order to get the best sweets. His mum would come out dressed in the most flamboyant costume possible. Rob would always be standing beside her, forced forwards with a bag of sweets in his hands.

Up past his parents' cars. Still some Halloween stickers on the windowsill and pumpkins next to the welcome mat. He twists his key in the door. It clicks and opens up to a corridor. He was right about the Christmas decorations. Snow globes on a bookshelf, wreath on the door, Christmas tree lights are colourful through the window. The whole living room is dark green.

The house is silent. The dishwasher is wildly spinning and wind is wailing. Other than that it is extremely quiet. And warm. So very warm. I can actually feel my fingers now.

Rob takes my hand once I've pulled off my shoes. He pulls me along into the living room, we crash down onto the sofa.

"Tell me everything," he says. He stretches out his legs and places his feet on the coffee table. He has fluffy socks that have the face of a red robin. "All the nitty gritty. Get it all out of your system."

"I don't even know where to start." I pull at the skin of my cheek, look up at the ceiling. "We went to Nando's. It was my idea. I got there bang on time but had to wait for ages for him to get there. He was late—"

"First red flag."

"Right? I should've just left. Anyway, he came in. Blamed his lateness on traffic when he literally lived in the town I went to. Like wouldn't you just walk? He ordered hardly any food then got all weird when I ordered my usual. I had a pudding too. He was just so judgy. He told me about his degree in Maths and how he was doing a phD. He didn't seem to impressed about my Law degree. He barely even let me talk. Then the last thing, the cherry on top, was when he stared at my belly when I stood up as if I had some kind of disease. I felt ill. I've never been so insecure in my life."

Rob's mouth was open wide, jaw dropped. He kept his eyes on mine. Listening. It was so nice to have someone just hear what I was saying for once.

"You're the prettiest, most intelligent girl— I'm going to have a right word with that nob— I'm going to have a right fucking word with him. He thinks he can just..." His burst of emotions makes him stand up and pace around the room. I smile at his compliments but frown when he starts to get angry.

"It's fine. I'm here now. I don't have to think about him again."

Rob sits down again. Then his head falls onto my stomach. He closes his eyes. His arm reaches over for the coffee table. He grabs two mince pies. One for me, one for him. Bending his arm and extending it, he passes one up to me. I gratefully take it. I peel off the metal then take a bite. It’s delicious. Rob is smiling up at me. There’s a little pastry on his chin. I wipe it away with my thumb. My finger seems to have a mind of its own. It starts to trace lines along his face. Beauty spot to beauty spot. Like his skin is paper and I’m doing a join the dot. My thumb lands back on his lips and I trace along the two pink shapes. A little chapped, warm and soft. He opens his eyes again.

Then I’m hit by this weird feeling. Like I’m reaching a high. Or I’m slamming the accelerator. Or I’m at a claw machine and finally win a prize. That hum of euphoria, singing through your ears. He’s twisting his head on my belly like it’s a pillow. My thumb is still at the corner of his mouth. My heart is beating in my ears. There’s something clicking. A realisation.

I’m in love with Rob. I’ve always been in love with him.

“Look, I know this is a really bad time to say this,” Rob speaks. His words a gruff. I listen intently.

“What’s up?” I brush his hair out of his face. Curls between my fingers.

“You’ll think I’m stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

Rob closes his eyes again. He breathes out. He looks for my other hand and places it on his chest, his hand resting just above it. I can feel his heart pounding like crazy. I never knew a human heart could move so quickly. I never knew that here, in this dimly lit room, after my heart has been torn into two separate pieces I’d be feeling Rob’s heart under my fingertips.

“Geez, Rob. Am I that scary?” I stroke his hair again, his fingers now grazing my knuckles.

“Yeah, terrifying.”

“Just tell me. What is it?”

“I love you.”

The whole room falls apart. My whole body feels like it’s been ripped into two then sewn back together. His eyes close again but he peeks a little with his left one just to gauge my reaction. I’ve stopped moving. My brain isn’t working.

“Christ. Really?” I whisper.

“Yes. I think of you every time I buy pizza, every time it’s Halloween, every time I’m drinking from a glass. Everywhere I go, you’re there. Whenever we went for coffee, I’d feel empty when you left. It just—even when you told me about this date. I was jealous at first. I want to take you on dates and fall in love with you even more.”

He sits up. He grabs onto both of my cheeks.

“I love you too,” I say before pulling him into a kiss.

#robert keating #bobby skeetz #inhaler band #inhaler fanfiction #inhaler dublin #elijah hewson #inhaler x reader #inhaler imagines #robert keating fanfiction #bobby skeetz fanfiction #inhaler oneshot #inhaler imagine #inhaler oneshots #fanfiction

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cherllyio · 4 months

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Even though they dont celebrate christmas in lego monkie kid, because its a chinese show, I still had some ideas to what some of the characthers might do/enjoy while it is chrisrmas

(Also sorry for the bad grammar, this was made like super fast and my first laungage isnt english)

MK: Oh boy, I bet he loves christmas. Up all day and night and Pigsy has to deal with that. (It was probaly even worse when he was a kid) He also still belivies in Santa Claus, even though the version of Santa Claus he saw as a kid more looked like a pig.

Mei: im guessing Mei didnt really like christmas when she was younger, ok maybe the presents, but christmas for her probaly meant more fancy dinner parties where she had to be a "proper lady".

Though in the present im guessing she would like it more, since she probally celabrates it more with the monkie kid gang. Maybe pulling some christmas edition pranks with MK while she is at it.

Tang: He is mostly there for the free food Pigsy makes, though he would probaly enjoy telling christmas tales to the kiddos.

Pigsy: He is going all out on the food, and absolutly no one is allowed in the kitchen. As soon as christmas rools around, his kitchen is like a godamn war zone. Also dressed up as Santa Claus for MK, when he was a kid, though MK still draws Santa Claus as pig to this day.

Sandy: He buys all his cats extremly expensive gifts, and makes good christmas tea (espiaclly for Pigsy, because he needs to calm the fuck down-)

Wukong: Forgot to buy the presents, so everyones gifts are made out of hair. But he still helps a bit, but mostly slacks around( prob stealing some snacks from Pigsy)

Macaque: Doesent really enjoy christmas, and dosent come to celebrate, but he has left some gifts under the christmas tree for MK and Bai lee(thats her name right?)

Nezha: Is forced to be there, but he does make pretty lotus style christmas decorations', and does enjoy the presents more than anyone.

Red Son: Forced to be there like Nezha, but has been planning for this, for months, and has made everyone presents. Each perfectly matching the person its given too.

This was like not planned at all, but I still thought it was pretty fun :).

Anyway Merry christmas and hope you have a good day, no matter if you celebrate christmas or not!❤️

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quitealotofsodapop · 1 day

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After that whole mess, they, of course, go back to FFM. Both because the cubs had a long day and needed a nap and also because neither Wukong nor MK had the energy to reset their glamours, and the last thing any of them wanted was to be swarmed. Wukong had to be stopped form going into a cleaning spree as soon as he realized he was having guests over for the first time in years and had to be told to sit down since, out of everyone there, be had been the one in the worst condition when all was said and done. They still enjoyed their smaller, more private New Years celebration and getting to run around in MK's childhood home

referencing.

Absolutely. Wukong is taking all the cubs home for a well-deserved rest (the eclipse twins argue that they aren't tired [lie]), and to properly introduce himself to the Noodle shop gang/aka his reincarnated Pilgrim brothers.

Wukong is a dedciated King to his people, but hasn't really let people "get close" since the Samadhi Fire incident/DBK's imprisonment. So he's a little rusty on how to play host in his own palace. The Stalwarts and the island's subjects are worried since they noticed some sort of havoc going on in the mainland while their King was gone, but Wukong brushes them off.

When Wukong attempts to clean up and play host, Pigsy quickly makes him sit down since; "You're pregnant and nearly got all your magic drained out of you. I'll make dinner." Which immediately puts the pig in the monkeys' good graces. Wukong does have to admit, piglet's grandson makes amazing noodle soup.

Mei (+MK) helps Pigsy out in the kitchen, and Wukong has a pang of nostalgia and grief at how similar the little dragon looks to Ao Lie. Her fun-loving attitude quickly gains her fans amongst the cubs, even if they try to eat her phone once or twice.

Lots of talking happens - especially on the subject of MK being Wukong's eldest cub + who exactly "dad" is. Wukong is still a little too upset at Macaque to give more than a curt explaination that he left on "a vacation" and has been missing since then.

Pigsy blurts out that he'll; "Sock the punk in the nose the second he sees 'em for leaving his family like that". It gets a laugh out of the king at least. Gao Cuilan did the same to Bajie when he finally returned after the journey.

Tang is ofc in Jttw-nerd heaven. Asking so many questions that MK has to interupt him to give his mom some space. The Stalwarts happily fill in the more embarassing/sappy details of their King and Warrior's romance, which delights the scholar (and mortifies SWK and MK) to no end.

Sandy is quickly the cubs favorite new uncle - though that could be because he smells like old uncle Sha Wujing. The Eclipse Twins are sus though. He makes himself busy serving up tea and addressing any emotional issues Wukong could be going through rn, especially with another little monkey on the way. Wukong is touched.

The Demon Bull Family makes an appearance - mainly to offer their apologies and for DBK to start making amends with his little bro. DBK quickly gets swarmed by the cubs he missed out on meeting, bellowing with laughter as they climb all over his horns. PIF is very aloof as per usual, but expresses her condolences for Macaque's disappearance. Wukong can tell that the former celestial princess is worried about her old friend, even if she doesn't care to show it.

Red Son is super confused, holding a casserole dish of non-spicy barbeque (DBK uncharacterically insisted, apparently the Monkey King hated spicy food), and just blinking at the fact that the "Noodle Boy" and "Pony Girl" he'd been fighting with were actually his calf-hood chums! Yuebei tries to eat his hair the moment he's offered to hold one of the Nodelets for the first time.

Overall the New Years "afterparty" (as Mei dubbed it) goes far better than the original celebration. Even if MK is super-grounded for not telling Wukong he became a superhero + lying who he actually was to the gang.

+Bonus: I love the idea of the cubs being super cranky during the events in the Celestial Realm. And when the spider gang attempt to stop the gang on the airship; little Yuebei starts shrieking with anger over her lack of sleep + missing both parents, and blasts them away with her non-fatal lazer eyes. It's one of many signs that MK's family aren't normal demons. Hunstman is a little embarassed that he was technically defeated by a baby.

#post jttw stone egged au #jttw stone egged au #sun wukong #dad sun wukong #pregnancy tw #lmk pigsy #lmk mk #lmk demon bull family #qi xiaotian #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk aus

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raichett · 1 year

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Free

Scar’s got a selkie coat kept in a magical safe in his shop, hoping that its owner might come to retrieve it some day. Grian just so happens to be a selkie.

Content warnings: implied/referenced forced marriage with all that entails (i.e. non-consensual or dubiously consensual sex, etc.) but this is very much in the past and not between any character actually on screen, past murder, non-humans eating humans for their crimes.

This fic can also be found on AO3.

‒

FREE

As soon as the man walks into his shop, the bell above the door ringing with a double note that no non-magical human could ever make it produce, Scar knows who he is.

He’s never met him before, mind, but he’s been – expecting. Hoping, maybe, that there would even be someone to retrieve the coat still.

Scar slaps on his best grin, making his voice bubble up with energy as he calls across the store, “Welcome to Convex Curiosities, good sir!” He doesn’t add on the next part of his usual script – How may I help you today? – and instead gestures with his fingers to beckon the man up towards the counter.

The man hesitates, glances around at the shelves of items – as though Scar would ever put his coat there – and trails up towards Scar. His shoulders try to hunch, but then he seems to catch himself, squaring them again. He looks… worn, ill, his wrists too thin and stress lines creasing across his face. He has soft light coloured hair, but it’s dulled and unhealthy, gone from sandy to mousey, and his eyes are shifting and flittering, scanning around as though expecting an ambush.

Scar pulls the seal skin coat out from under his counter, the press of his fingers unlocking the magical safe below with blue sparks. He lays it on top, one hand resting on the silky fur, watching as the man’s breath hitches and he leans in, desperate, before he suddenly flinches back, because one never reveals a weakness to a potential enemy. “This is yours, I believe.”

The man – this poor selkie with his coat stolen, living a half-life of pain and fear – licks his chapped lips. He looks – gods, he looks crushed. He ducks his head, squeezes his eyes shut briefly, and says, still some fire left in him, banked though it is, “Well, at least you’re more handsome than my last husband.”

Scar blinks. Then his heart lurches, his throat closing and sickness swirling in his gut. “Wha – no, no, no!” he corrects, frantically. His fingers fumble a moment before he manages to shove the coat right into the man’s arms. “This is yours – this – this is yours. Take it.”

The selkie man grasps onto his coat with a white-knuckled grip, dark eyes wide and lips parted, looking shocked. Scar swallows at that face, at what it must mean for whatever nightmares the selkie is dragging around with him, but he steps back from the counter, putting more space between them and placing the seal skin coat out of his arms’ reach.

The selkie also steps back, curling his arms around his coat and clinging tight. He so obviously didn’t expect to walk away with it freely – hoped, perhaps, for an ignorant shop-owner and buying his life back. Feared the prospect of a knowledgeable one and the power that knowledge holds – the power to make this selkie bend to another’s will.

“She’s in the harbour,” Scar blurts out before the selkie can make his understandable escape. He feels that the other would want to know. “The – er. The woman who tried to sell that to me. Crab food.”

The man stills, eyes locking with Scar’s. “You’re certain?” he asks.

Scar remembers it quite well, actually. It’s not the first dispatch he’s ever done, and it probably won’t be the last, but it is the most recent. He puts another smile on his face, this one a bit truer, but he doesn’t hesitate to bare his too-sharp teeth to the other, to invoke his own inhumanity. “I might have taken a bit of a nibble myself before we sank her,” he admits. Cub, too, but his co-owner isn’t here today.

“She was my mother-in-law,” the selkie says abruptly. “She – she didn’t know, but. She definitely deserved it. If she had, I think I’d be married to her right now…” He shivers. “I mean, my husband didn’t die for no reason, and she was like that for years – and at the funeral…” He falls silent and clutches his coat tighter to him. “Should’ve saved a bite for me,” he says, eyes narrowing, lips curling back from his teeth.

Aaaaannnd – Scar’s not touching that with a barge pole, thank you very much. “Sounds like the whole family was a piece of work,” he says instead, which it does. “And congratulations on your widowerhood.” Hoping to bring a more light-hearted feel to the room, he pulls a white handkerchief out of his pocket and dabs at the corner of his dry eye dramatically, waving it about with his hand after in an old farewell gesture. “Safe trip back to the sea, good sir.”

That pulls a huff out of the selkie, not quite a laugh, but headed that direction. The selkie then does something quite unexpected: he steps forward again, towards Scar.

“Your name,” he demands, not quite making it a question. His face is intense, but so animated compared to the resignation and misery of before. It’s good to see.

Scar tilts his head – why is the selkie sticking around? He should be running for the shore right now – but answers easily, “Scar.”

“Scar,” the selkie repeats. “Scar...” He smiles, then, small and rusty, an expression unused for quite some time – but still so pretty. He rubs his fingers over his coat, rocks back on his heels, and says, “Thank you, Scar. My name is Grian, of the North Sea.”

Oh, you’re far away from home, Scar thinks. But to say that would probably be rubbing salt in a wound. “You’re welcome. It was my pleasure, truly.”

“I’m sure it was,” Grian replies. “But still… thank you. I hope she didn’t give you indigestion.”

“She didn’t,” Scar confirms cheerily. “Though I cannot speak for the harbour crabs, of course.”

“Dinner is dinner, down below the waves,” Grian says. He takes a deep breath, white knuckles his coat again, and says, quiet but earnest, “Why don’t I buy you dinner some time?”

Scar’s mouth drops open a little, stunned.

“Not right now, obviously,” Grian hastens to add, clearly feeling the bite of something dark and sad and horrible nipping at his heels, echoed in Scar’s concerned face. “But maybe in the autumn, when we migrate back this way. I need – to see my family first.”

“I’m sure you do,” Scar answers, some meaningless silence-filler as a stand in for a response he’s not quite sure how to structure yet. Grian is a pretty man, no lie, but Scar has some decency in his heart, and as a veritable veteran of bad ideas, he thinks that rushing into anything with a newly-freed selkie would be one of them. “Um. Well, if you still feel the same way in a few months, you know where to find me!”

“So I do,” Grian says. He looks relieved, though, that Scar is refusing to try to pry his word out of him, not trying to spin it as a debt owed, leaving it an open-ended possibility. He smiles that rusty smile again. “Perhaps – perhaps I’ll see you again.”

“Perhaps,” Scar repeats. “Goodbye, Grian – may the stars be bright and the currents be kind.”

Grian’s eyes soften at the sea-folk blessing. “See you later,” he says, and leaves, slinging his coat around his shoulders, the bell above the door ringing as he steps out onto the street and is lost in the waves of people.

“See you later,” Scar echoes into the empty shop. I hope so.

#My writing #scarian #hermitshipping #goodtimeswithscar #grian #flash fic

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cherrycocaineee · 2 years

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28. Sodapop Curtis - Let’s Not Fight

* Warning - Light Smut, 18+ *

- Sodapop Curtis isn’t the type of guy to get into fights with the people he loves. Especially you. You’re his pride and joy.

- So when the two of you do fight, it’s always terrible and Soda always ends up saying things he doesn’t mean. You know he doesn’t mean them but the hurt is still there and you always end up locked away in your bedroom while he begs you to let him in. You won’t, not wanting to see his face right now. Afraid that if you did see him, you’d immediately burst into heavier tears.

- What do y’all fight about? Sandy, his ex-girlfriend.

- Sandy came back from Florida with her love child and immediately sought out Sodapop Curtis. And while Soda explained that he was in a loving, committed relationship with you, Sandy wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d show up at his job, stand at the counter, twirling her hair, and giggling at a few of Soda’s lame jokes. He knew they were lame but it was his sense of humor. Which is why it pissed you off so much when he continued to tell her his lame jokes. Because that’s what you had fallen in love with first when you met him.

- When you met Soda, you’d been at the park crying. You didn’t have a terrible home life and you genuinely had great friends, so why would someone like you be crying? At least, that’s what he wondered as he approached you. Turns out, you’d been cheated on and so being the good person he was, he cheered you up. His jokes were corny, cheesy, and lame. But they made you laugh so hard that your sides hurt and a small squeak left your mouth with each gasp for air.

- So to see Sodapop giving his attention, his corny jokes to someone else made you feel just as cheated on.

- Fights with Soda typically lasted two days because by then, Soda couldn’t stay away from you anymore. Therefore, he’d sneak through your window while everyone in the house was asleep.

It’s been two days, two long days since Soda’s seen your face or heard your voice. Every time he closed his eyes, he only saw you. Days felt like years and since you weren’t sitting beside him while he worked, he’d become painfully aware of Sandy’s presence. He felt like kicking himself in the ass not listening to you, Sandy was spending way too much time trying to flirt with him. Before it had been different, while he told Sandy some stupid joke, he was watching you pretend not to care that his ex-girlfriend was standing just a few feet away from him. You played with your hair, which he knew you did when you were nervous. You tapped your foot against the hard ground, the thumping sound echoing throughout the DX station, you were even fighting the urge to tear a hole through your lip with your teeth but were failing. He knew all the signs, and yet he did nothing to stop it or make it better. Instead, he got mad at you and said something that he didn’t mean, even in the slightest.

“Even Sandy and I didn’t argue this damn much when we were together!”

As soon as he said those words, he saw the light disappear from your already tear-filled eyes. The two of you didn’t even fight that much but he was so tired of the same topic when y’all did. Before, he figured you could ignore it and that him loving you was simply enough to make you understand he didn’t want Sandy. However, now that he sat there listening to Sandy go on and on about God knows what, he realized that what you needed was for him to show not only you, but Sandy that it wasn’t going to happen. He’d failed.

And now for two days, you refused to answer the door, his phone calls, or even him knocking on your bedroom window. He couldn’t really see you through the currents, at least not your face, but he did see you wrapped up in a blanket faced away from him. Your hair looked unkept and he could only imagine the knots that raked through each strand. He’d give anything to hold you, tell you that you were the only girl for him, that Sandy was nothing to him and hadn’t been since the day she left.

“Soda?”

Sodapop blinked.

Sandy and Steve were staring at him; he had zoned out completely thinking about what to do to make it up to the girl who probably cried herself to sleep both nights.

“What?” He muttered, his voice cold and resistant.

“I was asking you if you’d like to accompany me at the fair tomorrow,” Sandy informed, “you and your girlfriend aren’t talking, so I doubt she’ll be by your side. What do you say?”

Sodapop watched as Sandy batted her eyelashes cutely, trying to persuade him into forgetting about you and joining her at the fair.

“No.”

Steve stood in the background completely immersed in his friend’s conversation with Sandy. He’d been watching the whole thing play out for weeks before the sudden burst of anger and hurt. When Soda said those awful things to you, yeah he felt bad immediately, but he felt even worse when Steve punched him in the face and told him he didn’t deserve you. And for the first time, in a long time, Soda broke down crying.

“What?” Sandy asked, bewildered, “why?”

“Because we aren’t together anymore, Sandy,” Sodapop hissed, “you cheated on me, remember. Had a baby with someone else; and when I still offered to stay and take care of a child that wasn’t mine, you sent me a note tellin’ me to never contact you again. So I don’t want nothin’ to do with you anymore.”

There were tears in Sandy’s eyes but they didn’t compare to the one’s Soda seen on you.

“If that’s how you feel,” Sandy croaked, “then I won’t come back.”

“Good.”

A soft gasp left her lips before she stormed out of the DX station, crying her head off. Steve cleared his throat.

“Good for you,” he stated.

“Piss off,” Soda muttered, “I’m just tryin’ to finish the day so I can go see her.”

“She isn’t goin’ to let you in,” Steve said, crossing his arms.

“I’ll sneak through the window.”

Steve had to admit, he admired Sodapop’s courage to sneak through your window in the middle of the night with her dad home.

Hours passed and it was time for the gas station to close and instead of heading straight home like Soda normally did, he made a direct line to your place. The porch light was one but it typically always was. He didn’t even need to think to find your window, he’d snuck in so many times before, he practically knew your house like the back of his hand.

Sodapop came to a stop in front of your window, the sheer curtains still closed. You were still on the bed with the blanket wrapped around you except this time, you were sitting up staring at the television in front of you. There wasn’t anything on, just the news. Soda reached up and tapped the window quietly. You looked over and saw him, part of you wanted to jump out of bed and run to the window. To swing it open and engulf him into a warm embrace, knowing that this fight and the time away from each other was just as rough on him as it was on you. But you felt like you needed to stand your ground, Soda needed to know that he hurt your feelings in more ways than one and that you weren’t going to let that slide. So you looked away from him, turning your attention to the tv and tried to block out the sound of his tapping.

Eventually, however, Soda got tired of tapping on the window and opened it. You never locked it, despite him telling you how dangerous it was. You loved the fresh air in the middle of the night, especially when you had just woken up. Your eyes widen as Soda pulls himself through your window and lands with a quiet, yet solid, thud on your carpeted ground. The two of you froze, waiting for the rushed sounds of feet moving from your parent’s bedroom, the hallway, and then to your bedroom. When it didn’t come, a wave of relief washed over you. Sodapop pushed himself to his feet, you did the same.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed.

“I needed to see you,” Soda whispered, reaching his hand out to touch your face only for you to pull away.

“Well I don’t want to see you, so go away.”

The blanket you had been wearing slowly slipped off your body as you walked away from him, keeping your back turned while crossing your arms. Soda wasn’t leaving though, he needed you. So while you were turned around, he wrapped his arms around your body. His head was resting on your shoulder, he could feel your hair tickle his nose as it moved. You smelled amazing too, like fresh flowers and spring.

“Please,” he whispered, “please forgive me.”

“Why?” You muttered, “so you can run back to Sandy and do it all over again. I can only forgive you so many times, Soda.”

Immediately, Sodapop turned you to face him and your eyes watched in pure shock as you saw your boyfriend in tears. But despite the tears, he was smiling.

“I know I messed up, really. But if you forgive me, I’ll make sure that you know that no one, not even Sandy, can compare to you. You are the most amazing, most beautiful, kindest, gentle woman I’ve ever known. And I don’t deserve you.”

You smiled, a stray tear rushing down your cheek before being intercepted by Soda’s calloused finger. He hated seeing you cry.

“What about Sandy?” You quizzed, wanting to hear the answer he had stored.

“I sent her away,” he said, “told her I didn’t want anythin’ to do with her again. That I was happily taken.”

You started playing with the buttons on your boyfriend’s work shirt. He was staring down at you, a smile on his face as he watched you warm up to him all over again.

“I love you,” you said, “really, I do. And I want you to be happy but I guess I couldn’t stand the idea of you being happy without me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Soda whispered, “I would never be happy again if I didn’t have you. I love you.”

Leaning down, Soda caught your lips with his and moved you backwards until the back of your legs touched the bed. A soft moan escaped the both of y’all as Soda’s hands roamed your body longingly. He pulled away from you.

“Let me make it up to you,” he hummed, “you know, for bein’ a stupid boyfriend.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” You asked.

He only smiled while unbuttoning your pants and carefully pulling them down to your knees. When they were at your knees, he gently pushed you onto your bed. You wanted to tell him to stop, that your parents were in the next room but you needed this honestly. So instead, you just let it play out.

Soda grabbed your pants and pulled them completely off, tossing them into the corner of the room where they’d sit until tomorrow morning. You were wearing a pair of pink panties with a little, white bow on the front. Very cute, very you. Soda looked up at you, his eyes watching you intently as you bit your bottom lip. He reached up and dragged his thumb along the now bleeding lip.

“Stop,” he whispered, “don’t mark yourself up like that, you’re too pretty.”

You nodded, mumbling a hushed “yes sir” in response. Soda hooked his fingers to your panties and pulled them down. Once again, he tossed them to the corner of the room, letting them join the pants. Sodapop laid you down and spreaded your legs. You shivered at the feeling of his nose touching your core. When his tongue dragged against you, your body felt heavy and hot; your legs immediately closing only to be pried back open.

“Relax, sweet girl,” Soda muttered.

But no matter how many breaths you took to calm yourself, you felt your heart beating harshly against your rib cage. Finally, Soda drove his tongue into you and attached his lips to your sensitive clit. You had to cover your mouth before any noise came out, not wanting to wake your parents. Saliva mixed with your juices as Soda continued to eat you out, both mixes pooling onto your bedding, soaking through the comforter and sheets. You were now laying flat on your back, your fingers tangled into Soda’s greasy hair while your back arched off the mattress. You still kept one hand over your mouth, tightly.

Soda’s eyes watched your body move as he lapped up any of the juices that had fallen out of you. A smile graced his face as he patted himself on the back, loving the way he made you feel. And despite him just starting, Soda already knew you were close so he sped up, wanting you to catch your release.

Taking one hand off your plushy thigh, Soda probed your entrance with his pointer finger. You whined at the new feeling, and tried to grind your hips against him so you could feel more but he pinned you down. You screwed your eyes shut as Soda’s finger slid inside of you, his tongue making small circles over your now enlarged, puffy clit. He watched you come undone; your chest heaving, your fingers now gripping the bedding as you tried desperately to keep the noises down. God, he wished he could hear your moans.

“S-Soda,” you whined, “a-another finger, please.”

How could he tell you no?

While sucking on your clit, Soda started pushing his middle finger into you. This time when you started moving your hips, he didn’t stop you, letting you cause enough friction that was going to send you over the edge. He was going to have you seeing stars.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” you squeaked.

Soda moaned against you, the vibration causing another ripple of pleasure to drown you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your hands clamping against your mouth, your teeth digging into your skin as the band inside you finally snapped. And like Soda predicted, you saw stars.

He drank up every last drop of juice you’d given him. When he was done, he pulled away and climbed onto the bed next to you. There were drops of sweat clinging to your forehead and you were panting from the lack of air in your lungs. Soda smiled at you.

“Do you feel better, baby?” He asked, sweetly; his eyes watching you as you started to pass out from exhaustion.

“Yes,” you whimpered, “thank you.”

Sodapop pulled you onto the bed and dragged the covers over you. Then he removed his shirt and laid beside you.

“Good, baby. Goodnight.”

The two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms, finally having made up with each other and being madly in love just like before. And in the morning, Sodapop wasn’t going to let you go.

#sodapop curtis smut #sodapop curtis imagine #Sodapop Curtis #The Outsiders #outsiders smut #sodapop imagine #sodapop smut #sodapop x reader #imagines #Smut #light smut #imagine #fluff #the outsiders sodapop #sodapop fanfiction #the outsiders fanfiction #Sodapop Patrick Curtis

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elkian · 2 months

Text

I've seen a few of my Murderbot posts reblogged with tags to the effect of "I don't go here but I know of it" and for people who are interested in the Murderbot series looking to break in:

Tor.com (now Reactor Mag) has the entire first chapter of the first book, All Systems Red, available free to read on their site.

Link to the article.

ASR is a novella, so this not only covers a lot of ground, but is a pretty good litmus test imo if this book is for you or not.

(I read ASR twice before getting Artificial Condition, and that was the book that got me totally hooked on the series, for what that's worth.)

I'm also just going to post the text under this readmore because free Murderbot.

---

I could have become a mass murderer after I hacked my governor module, but then I realized I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites. It had been well over 35,000 hours or so since then, with still not much murdering, but probably, I don’t know, a little under 35,000 hours of movies, serials, books, plays, and music consumed. As a heartless killing machine, I was a terrible failure.

I was also still doing my job, on a new contract, and hoping Dr. Volescu and Dr. Bharadwaj finished their survey soon so we could get back to the habitat and I could watch episode 397 of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon.

I admit I was distracted. It was a boring contract so far and I was thinking about backburnering the status alert channel and trying to access music on the entertainment feed without HubSystem logging the extra activity. It was trickier to do it in the field than it was in the habitat.

This assessment zone was a barren stretch of coastal island, with low, flat hills rising and falling and thick greenish-black grass up to my ankles, not much in the way of flora or fauna, except a bunch of different-sized birdlike things and some puffy floaty things that were harmless as far as we knew. The coast was dotted with big bare craters, one of which Bharadwaj and Volescu were taking samples in. The planet had a ring, which from our current position dominated the horizon when you looked out to sea. I was looking at the sky and mentally poking at the feed when the bottom of the crater exploded.

I didn’t bother to make a verbal emergency call. I sent the visual feed from my field camera to Dr. Mensah’s, and jumped down into the crater. As I scrambled down the sandy slope, I could already hear Mensah over the emergency comm channel, yelling at someone to get the hopper in the air now. They were about ten kilos away, working on another part of the island, so there was no way they were going to get here in time to help.

Conflicting commands filled my feed but I didn’t pay attention. Even if I hadn’t borked my own governor module, the emergency feed took priority, and it was chaotic, too, with the automated HubSystem wanting data and trying to send me data I didn’t need yet and Mensah sending me telemetry from the hopper. Which I also didn’t need, but it was easier to ignore than HubSystem simultaneously demanding answers and trying to supply them.

In the middle of all that, I hit the bottom of the crater. I have small energy weapons built into both arms, but the one I went for was the big projectile weapon clamped to my back. The hostile that had just exploded up out of the ground had a really big mouth, so I felt I needed a really big gun.

I dragged Bharadwaj out of its mouth and shoved myself in there instead, and discharged my weapon down its throat and then up toward where I hoped the brain would be. I’m not sure if that all happened in that order; I’d have to replay my own field camera feed. All I knew was that I had Bharadwaj, and it didn’t, and it had disappeared back down the tunnel.

She was unconscious and bleeding through her suit from massive wounds in her right leg and side. I clamped the weapon back into its harness so I could lift her with both arms. I had lost the armor on my left arm and a lot of the flesh underneath, but my non-organic parts were still working. Another burst of commands from the governor module came through and I backburnered it without bothering to decode them. Bharadwaj, not having non-organic parts and not as easily repaired as me, was definitely a priority here and I was mainly interested in what the MedSystem was trying to tell me on the emergency feed. But first I needed to get her out of the crater.

During all this, Volescu was huddled on the churned up rock, losing his shit, not that I was unsympathetic. I was far less vulnerable in this situation than he was and I wasn’t exactly having a great time either. I said, “Dr. Volescu, you need to come with me now.”

He didn’t respond. MedSystem was advising a tranq shot and blah blah blah, but I was clamping one arm on Dr. Bharadwaj’s suit to keep her from bleeding out and supporting her head with the other, and despite everything I only have two hands. I told my helmet to retract so he could see my human face. If the hostile came back and bit me again, this would be a bad mistake, because I did need the organic parts of my head. I made my voice firm and warm and gentle, and said, “Dr. Volescu, it’s gonna be fine, okay? But you need to get up and come help me get her out of here.”

That did it. He shoved to his feet and staggered over to me, still shaking. I turned my good side toward him and said, “Grab my arm, okay? Hold on.”

He managed to loop his arm around the crook of my elbow and I started up the crater towing him, holding Bharadwaj against my chest. Her breathing was rough and desperate and I couldn’t get any info from her suit. Mine was torn across my chest so I upped the warmth on my body, hoping it would help. The feed was quiet now, Mensah having managed to use her leadership priority to mute everything but MedSystem and the hopper, and all I could hear on the hopper feed was the others frantically shushing each other.

The footing on the side of the crater was lousy, soft sand and loose pebbles, but my legs weren’t damaged and I got up to the top with both humans still alive. Volescu tried to collapse and I coaxed him away from the edge a few meters, just in case whatever was down there had a longer reach than it looked.

I didn’t want to put Bharadwaj down because something in my abdomen was severely damaged and I wasn’t sure I could pick her up again. I ran my field camera back a little and saw I had gotten stabbed with a tooth, or maybe a cilia. Did I mean a cilia or was that something else? They don’t give murderbots decent education modules on anything except murdering, and even those are the cheap versions. I was looking it up in HubSystem’s language center when the little hopper landed nearby. I let my helmet seal and go opaque as it settled on the grass.

We had two standard hoppers: a big one for emergencies and this little one for getting to the assessment locations. It had three compartments: one big one in the middle for the human crew and two smaller ones to each side for cargo, supplies, and me. Mensah was at the controls. I started walking, slower than I normally would have because I didn’t want to lose Volescu. As the ramp started to drop, Pin-Lee and Arada jumped out and I switched to voice comm to say, “Dr. Mensah, I can’t let go of her suit.”

It took her a second to realize what I meant. She said hurriedly, “That’s all right, bring her up into the crew cabin.”

Murderbots aren’t allowed to ride with the humans and I had to have verbal permission to enter. With my cracked governor there was nothing to stop me, but not letting anybody, especially the people who held my contract, know that I was a free agent was kind of important. Like, not having my organic components destroyed and the rest of me cut up for parts important.

I carried Bharadwaj up the ramp into the cabin, where Overse and Ratthi were frantically unclipping seats to make room. They had their helmets off and their suit hoods pulled back, so I got to see their horrified expressions when they took in what was left of my upper body through my torn suit. I was glad I had sealed my helmet.

This is why I actually like riding with the cargo. Humans and augmented humans in close quarters with murderbots is too awkward. At least, it’s awkward for this murderbot. I sat down on the deck with Bharadwaj in my lap while Pin-Lee and Arada dragged Volescu inside.

We left two pacs of field equipment and a couple of instruments behind, still sitting on the grass where Bharadwaj and Volescu had been working before they went down to the crater for samples. Normally I’d help carry them, but MedSystem, which was monitoring Bharadwaj through what was left of her suit, was pretty clear that letting go of her would be a bad idea. But no one mentioned the equipment. Leaving easily replaceable items behind may seem obvious in an emergency, but I had been on contracts where the clients would have told me to put the bleeding human down to go get the stuff.

On this contract, Dr. Ratthi jumped up and said, “I’ll get the cases!”

I yelled, “No!” which I’m not supposed to do; I’m always supposed to speak respectfully to the clients, even when they’re about to accidentally commit suicide. HubSystem could log it and it could trigger punishment through the governor module. If it wasn’t hacked.

Fortunately, the rest of the humans yelled “No!” at the same time, and Pin-Lee added, “For fuck’s sake, Ratthi!”

Ratthi said, “Oh, no time, of course. I’m sorry!” and hit the quick-close sequence on the hatch.

So we didn’t lose our ramp when the hostile came up under it, big mouth full of teeth or cilia or whatever chewing right through the ground. There was a great view of it on the hopper’s cameras, which its system helpfully sent straight to everybody’s feed. The humans screamed.

Mensah pushed us up into the air so fast and hard I nearly leaned over and everybody who wasn’t on the floor ended up there.

In the quiet afterward, as they gasped with relief, Pin-Lee said, “Ratthi, if you get yourself killed—”

“You’ll be very cross with me, I know.” Ratthi slid down the wall a little more and waved weakly at her.

“That’s an order, Ratthi, don’t get yourself killed,” Mensah said from the pilot’s seat. She sounded calm, but I have security priority, and I could see her racing heartbeat through MedSystem.

Arada pulled out the emergency medical kit so they could stop the bleeding and try to stabilize Bharadwaj. I tried to be as much like an appliance as possible, clamping the wounds where they told me to, using my failing body temperature to try to keep her warm, and keeping my head down so I couldn’t see them staring at me.

PERFORMANCE RELIABILITY AT 60% AND DROPPING

Our habitat is a pretty standard model, seven interconnected domes set down on a relatively flat plain above a narrow river valley, with our power and recycling system connected on one side. We had an environmental system, but no air locks, as the planet’s atmosphere was breathable, just not particularly good for humans for the long term. I don’t know why, because it’s one of those things I’m not contractually obligated to care about.

We picked the location because it’s right in the middle of the assessment area, and while there are trees scattered through the plain, each one is fifteen or so meters tall, very skinny, with a single layer of spreading canopy, so it’s hard for anything approaching to use them as cover. Of course, that didn’t take into account anything approaching via tunnel.

We have security doors on the habitat for safety but HubSystem told me the main one was already open as the hopper landed. Dr. Gurathin had a lift gurney ready and guided it out to us. Overse and Arada had managed to get Bharadwaj stabilized, so I was able to put her down on it and follow the others into the habitat.

The humans headed for Medical and I stopped to send the little hopper commands to lock and seal itself, then I locked the outer doors. Through the security feed, I told the drones to widen our perimeter so I’d have more warning if something big came at us. I also set some monitors on the seismic sensors to alert me to anomalies just in case the hypothetical something big decided to tunnel in.

After I secured the habitat, I went back to what was called the security ready room, which was where weapons, ammo, perimeter alarms, drones, and all the other supplies pertaining to security were stored, including me. I shed what was left of the armor and on MedSystem’s advice sprayed wound sealant all over my bad side. I wasn’t dripping with blood, because my arteries and veins seal automatically, but it wasn’t nice to look at. And it hurt, though the wound seal did numb it a little. I had already set an eight-hour security interdiction through HubSystem, so nobody could go outside without me, and then set myself as off-duty. I checked the main feed but no one was filing any objections to that.

I was freezing because my temperature controls had given out at some point on the way here, and the protective skin that went under my armor was in pieces. I had a couple of spares but pulling one on right now would not be practical, or easy. The only other clothing I had was a uniform I hadn’t worn yet, and I didn’t think I could get it on, either. (I hadn’t needed the uniform because I hadn’t been patrolling inside the habitat. Nobody had asked for that, because with only eight of them and all friends, it would be a stupid waste of resources, namely me.) I dug around one handed in the storage case until I found the extra human-rated medical kit I’m allowed in case of emergencies, and opened it and got the survival blanket out. I wrapped up in it, then climbed into the plastic bed of my cubicle. I let the door seal as the white light flickered on.

It wasn’t much warmer in there, but at least it was cozy. I connected myself to the resupply and repair leads, leaned back against the wall and shivered. MedSystem helpfully informed me that my performance reliability was now at 58 percent and dropping, which was not a surprise. I could definitely repair in eight hours, and probably mostly regrow my damaged organic components, but at 58 percent, I doubted I could get any analysis done in the meantime. So I set all the security feeds to alert me if anything tried to eat the habitat and started to call up the supply of media I’d downloaded from the entertainment feed. I hurt too much to pay attention to anything with a story, but the friendly noise would keep me company.

Then someone knocked on the cubicle door.

I stared at it and lost track of all my neatly arrayed inputs. Like an idiot, I said, “Uh, yes?”

Dr. Mensah opened the door and peered in at me. I’m not good at guessing actual humans’ ages, even with all the visual entertainment I watch. People in the shows don’t usually look much like people in real life, at least not in the good shows. She had dark brown skin and lighter brown hair, cut very short, and I’m guessing she wasn’t young or she wouldn’t be in charge. She said, “Are you all right? I saw your status report.”

“Uh.” That was the point where I realized that I should have just not answered and pretended to be in stasis. I pulled the blanket around my chest, hoping she hadn’t seen any of the missing chunks. Without the armor holding me together, it was much worse. “Fine.”

So, I’m awkward with actual humans. It’s not paranoia about my hacked governor module, and it’s not them; it’s me. I know I’m a horrifying murderbot, and they know it, and it makes both of us nervous, which makes me even more nervous. Also, if I’m not in the armor then it’s because I’m wounded and one of my organic parts may fall off and plop on the floor at any moment and no one wants to see that.

“Fine?” She frowned. “The report said you lost 20 percent of your body mass.”

“It’ll grow back,” I said. I know to an actual human I probably looked like I was dying. My injuries were the equivalent of a human losing a limb or two plus most of their blood volume.

“I know, but still.” She eyed me for a long moment, so long I tapped the security feed for the mess, where the non-wounded members of the group were sitting around the table talking. They were discussing the possibility of more underground fauna and wishing they had intoxicants. That seemed pretty normal. She continued, “You were very good with Dr. Volescu. I don’t think the others realized . . . They were very impressed.”

“It’s part of the emergency med instructions, calming victims.” I tugged the blanket tighter so she didn’t see anything awful. I could feel something lower down leaking.

“Yes, but the MedSystem was prioritizing Bharadwaj and didn’t check Volescu’s vital signs. It didn’t take into account the shock of the event, and it expected him to be able to leave the scene on his own.”

On the feed it was clear that the others had reviewed Volescu’s field camera video. They were saying things like I didn’t even know it had a face. I’d been in armor since we arrived, and I hadn’t unsealed the helmet when I was around them. There was no specific reason. The only part of me they would have seen was my head, and it’s standard, generic human. But they didn’t want to talk to me and I definitely didn’t want to talk to them; on duty it would distract me and off duty . . . I didn’t want to talk to them. Mensah had seen me when she signed the rental contract. But she had barely looked at me and I had barely looked at her because again, murderbot + actual human = awkwardness. Keeping the armor on all the time cuts down on unnecessary interaction.

I said, “It’s part of my job, not to listen to the System feeds when they . . . make mistakes.” That’s why you need constructs, SecUnits with organic components. But she should know that. Before she accepted delivery of me, she had logged about ten protests, trying to get out of having to have me. I didn’t hold it against her. I wouldn’t have wanted me either.

Seriously, I don’t know why I didn’t just say you’re welcome and please get out of my cubicle so I can sit here and leak in peace.

“All right,” she said, and looked at me for what objectively I knew was 2.4 seconds and subjectively about twenty excruciating minutes. “I’ll see you in eight hours. If you need anything before then, please send me an alert on the feed.” She stepped back and let the door slide closed.

It left me wondering what they were all marveling at so I called up the recording of the incident. Okay, wow. I had talked to Volescu all the way up the side of the crater. I had been mostly concerned with the hopper’s trajectory and Bharadwaj not bleeding out and what might come out of that crater for a second try; I hadn’t been listening to myself, basically. I had asked him if he had kids. It was boggling. Maybe I had been watching too much media. (He did have kids. He was in a four-way marriage and had seven, all back home with his partners.)

All my levels were too elevated now for a rest period, so I decided I might as well get some use out of it and look at the other recordings. Then I found something weird. There was an “abort” order in the HubSystem command feed, the one that controlled, or currently believed it controlled, my governor module. It had to be a glitch. It didn’t matter, because when MedSystem has priority—

PERFORMANCE RELIABILITY AT 39%, STASIS INITIATED FOR EMERGENCY REPAIR SEQUENCE.

#elk text #tmd #the murderbot diaries #if you aren't in a position to purchase the books check out (hehe) whether your local library has anything #i know there's audiobooks too and apparently they're pretty good #i tried to indent it and tungl did not like that #tried to make the opening break obvious

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leefl00f · 4 months

Note

hello again!

I'd like to have Uzi and Nori tickle fluff, so maybe Uzi is cranky and ticked off cuz she had a bad day and her mom uses her solver form to cheer her up (such as her tail "losing control")?

Have a good break! (I also have two weeks off, it's so nice)

Storms won’t last forever, but cheer ups can

By Leefloof

Summary: Uzi comes home after another unsuccessful hunt and thinks she wont be a successful hunter like the rest of the pod. Luckily, she has someone who thinks otherwise

Ft. Nori, Uzi, (some mentions of other characters)

Note: Thank you so much for the request! I was really excited when this was requested because this gave me the opportunity to write the silly mermaid goobers! I had this type of scenario for a while now lol (only a few days but that doesn’t matter)

Hope you enjoy! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)˚๐*˟♡

Warning(s): None, this is a sfw tickle fic, don’t like keep scrolling

DNI N$FW/F3T!$H accounts!!! 🚫🔫

Words: 1,780

𖦹*ੈ‧ ₊˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ₊˚.༄ 𖦹*ੈ‧ ₊˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ₊˚.༄ 𖦹*ੈ‧ ₊

It was another day in the deep reef. The sun beamed down into the waters, giving off rays of light, while fish swam by one another to reach their destinations. They quickly swam away, scared off as a shadow loomed over the colorful environment. The shadow soon propelled itself forward, away from the reef and into the dark, open ocean.

"Uzi? Where are you?" Nori shouted as she looked around the empty space in concern.

Nori's daughter had decided to run away again. The younglings had another hunting session with their teacher. Apparently something went wrong for Uzi and she had disappeared according to Khan. Before he was able to talk to her, Uzi had already swum away. Now Nori was worried about her daughter's safety and began searching for her.

Normally she would travel somewhere to isolate herself from the pod, and she can make it a challenge to find.

As the giant orca worker swam deeper into the nothingness of the area, she started to see patches of seaweed growing around the sandy seabed as well as a trail of bubbles towards a patch of seaweed, surrounding an untouched area.

Curious, Nori swam towards the seaweed and parted them to get through. She stopped midway as she saw her daughter curled up in a fetal position, her body shaking and spasming as she cried softly in her crossed arms.

"Uzi?"

The teenager jumped, not expecting anyone to find her. Thinking it was those pesky seals, she turned around to meet the stranger with a glare, quickly wiping away her tears. Her eyes somewhat bloodshot as she had been crying for a very long time.

"Do you want to be beaten to a pulp?! I told you to leave me-!" Uzi stopped mid-sentence seeing that it was only her mother. "Oh, it's you."

"Yes, it is me, your mother. May I?"

"Sure."

Nori glided to where her daughter was in response, the smaller scooted her tail away to give her mother more space to sit by her. The larger worker allowed herself to float down beside Uzi with a concerned look.

"So, I heard from your father that the hunt didn't go as well, huh?"

Uzi said nothing as she hugged her tail and looked down, the only response was a nod.

"What happened?" Nori inquired

There was silence again, until Uzi turned away from her mother

"You wouldn't understand anyway." Uzi mumbled

Nori smiled as she leaned on her arm. "Try me, Uzi. I've been on this rock for a century now, there's nothing that I haven't faced before that you're dealing with right now." She said gently

Uzi hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Everyone had caught a seal but me," She began

"They were too fast for me, I couldn't keep up with them before it was too late. Doll had caught a small one just for me to not be left out, it was embarrassing," Uzi admitted "And all because I'm the smallest out of everyone in there."

Uzi groaned before balling her fists and roaring out to the sky

"Why does she always have to help me?! I'm not a droneling anymore!" Uzi shouted

Nori looked at her with concern, she was always trying to be independent on her own ever since that human had brought back her and Doll to the pod. She was trying to do more for the pod, whatever that human did really changed her and Doll.

"Uzi, it's okay to ask for help. We all need help sometimes, no matter our size or age. Doll cares about you and wants to make sure you're included. It's not a sign of weakness to accept help, it's a sign of strength to recognize when we need it."

"Even when everyone calls you a baby all the time?" Uzi asked with an unamused tone

"I don't want to be seen as a baby anymore," Uzi added, her voice filled with frustration.

Nori sighed softly, understanding Uzi's desire to be seen as capable and independent. She reached out and gently placed a hand on Uzi's shoulder.

"You're not a baby Uzi. For the past few years you have proven yourself to be a very strong lady. Just because you missed a seal doesn't mean you can't fend for yourself, it just shows that you need help understanding certain things." Nori explained

“Even when you get called a baby multiple times?” Uzi asked in an unamused tone

"Oh honey," Nori began, "The others might call you a baby for all the mean reasons, but know that you'll always be my baby. And mine alone."

The older woman reached out to caress her daughter's cheek, earning a small smile.

"Thanks Mom, but I'm still not—"

Without warning, Nori lifted Uzi up, earning a yelp from her, and started to playfully twirl her around. She stopped once she started to get dizzy and looked down at her daughter, chuckling at Uzi's reaction.

"You can deny all you want, but you're still my baby in my eyes!" Nori singsonged, playfully nuzzling and kissing Uzi's face.

The younger chuckled before trying to escape Nori's grip, her tail wagging at her mom's silly antics. After some time, Nori stopped and released her.

"So, feeling better now?" Nori asked.

"A little bit, I'll manage it though," Uzi replied as she propelled herself towards the wall of seaweed.

Nori followed her, but before she went outside of the seaweed, she thought of something else that could make her daughter happy. She couldn't help but smile at the idea; it had been a long time since she had done it to Uzi, but hopefully it would still have the same effect as when she was younger. She put her plan into action as she swam in a different direction.

Uzi kept swimming back to the deep reef, not realizing that her mother wasn't following her anymore. "So, are we still eating those leftovers dad saved or... Mom?"

Uzi turned around but didn't see her mother anywhere. She looked around, hoping to find a sign of her, but Nori was nowhere to be seen.

"Mom? This isn't funny. If you're trying to scare me by suddenly appearing out of nowhere, it's not going to work--whoa!"

Uzi was surprised as something suddenly bumped into her back, causing her to be flipped onto her back, rendering her unable to move.

"Ack! Hey!" Uzi exclaimed as she struggled to get back upright. She looked up to see her mother, Nori, hovering above her with a mischievous grin on her face.

"Gotcha!" Nori said playfully. "Lesson one of being a hunter: never let your guard down, because you never know what could be lurking about!"

"Ugh, thanks for the free lesson Mom, now can you please help me up? I can't move." Uzi sighed, reaching out her hand to her mother, only for her to swim closer to Uzi.

"Ah, ah, ah, you know how we end this game Uzi," Nori teased, as she stopped where her belly was, only then did the teen realize what was about to happen.

Uzi's eyes widened as she tried to squirm away, only to go nowhere in her struggles.

"No no no! Wait!" Uzi pleaded, only for those pleas to fall on deaf ears as Nori placed her hands on her sides.

"Once the monster catches their prey, they test which part of the body is the most tender to devour their flesh," Nori continued, her mischievous grin growing wider as she poked at Uzi's sides, earning small giggles from the child.

"Ehehehek! Mohohom!"

"Hm, could it be here?" Nori asked herself. "Nah, oh! What about here?" Nori moved her fingers to Uzi's ribs.

"Ahahahaha! Mohohom plehehease! I'm too old for thihihis! Hahahaha! Quit it!"

But Nori paid no mind to Uzi and continued to tickle her, enjoying the sound of her laughter. It had been a long time since she heard her freely laughing without having to worry about the others making fun of her, it felt nice for both of them.

"Oh! I know!" Nori exclaimed as she moved her hands back to Uzi's belly, she gently squeezed it a couple of times before perking up

"Aha! Finally! I found the most delisous part of my prey!" Nori playfully growled as she hugged Uzi to keep her from escaping

Uzi silently gulped as she tried again to escape her mother's grasp, a nervous smile creeping on her features.

"M-mom, mom wait, we can talk about this!" Uzi stuttered "I get it! I'm your only baby just let me go!"

"Oh but I'm not mom anymore, I'm the tickle monster!" Nori roared playfully

Before Uzi had a chance to protest again, Nori began to plant raspberries on her belly, causing her to shriek and throw her head back.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! MOHOHOM! STAHAHAP!” Uzi howled trying to push Nori’s head away from her stomach

“Nom nom nom! Ah, what a delisous little hunter I have! I should take my time to eat this one!" Nori teased "She's just so sweet!"

“HEHEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO! NO MOHOHORE!!” Uzi shouted

Tears of mirth started to dwell in Uzi’s eyes as her strength started to leave her body, she stopped struggling long ago and went limp in Nori’s arms, accepting her fate. Seeing that Uzi was at her limit, Nori stopped her tickly assault.

“Alright, the tickle monster’s had her fill of her prey.” Nori chuckled as she gently let go of Uzi, who was still laying limp, catching her breath

“Thank…you..” Uzi said in between huffs

Eventually, the teenager was able to regain her strength to flip herself back upright. She looked back at her mother, now with a smile on her face.

"Alright, we should get back to the pod. We don't want them to think that one of their leaders and future leader disappeared, right?" Uzi asked.

"Right, but you just flipped yourself over," Nori acknowledged.

"Yeah?"

"You could've done that to escape."

Uzi blushed out of embarrassment before scratching the back of her head nervously.

"Oh, really? I-I didn't think of that." Uzi coughed, trying to brush it off.

Nori only smirked as she glided closer to her daughter. "Uzi, do you still like being tickled?"

"What?! N-no!" Uzi protested, the blush growing even bigger as she turned away with crossed arms. "Let's just get back to the others already."

"Of course, my little seastar." Nori chuckled.

As they swam back, Nori couldn't help but reminisce about the times she had done that trick. Uzi even asked her to do it again when she was younger. Now her little seastar had grown up to be somewhat rebellious, but some things never change.

Fin :) 🦈

𖦹*ੈ‧ ₊˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ₊˚.༄ 𖦹*ੈ‧ ₊˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ₊˚.༄ 𖦹*ੈ‧ ₊

#:3c #murder drones tickles #sfw tk blog #sfw tk community #murder drones #murder drones uzi #sfw tickling community #nori murder drones #nori doorman #murder drones nori #uzi doorman #md uzi #the sillies :3

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