#*jet goes roaring by*

[ichbinmeltdown]

This happened when my mom and I were waiting for the bus after an appointment

*Really loud train horn blares a few blocks away* What my brain impulsively told me to say: SHUT UP ASTROTRAIN!!!

[callsigns-haze]

You knew? Part 1 of 3

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader! Callsign Ace

Chapter Summary: In a clever setup orchestrated by Hangman and Phoenix, Rooster and Ace, two colleagues with a tense relationship, unknowingly begin exchanging flirtatious emails under anonymous identities. As they bond over shared work frustrations, they eventually realize they’ve been emailing each other all along. The discovery leads to frustration and anger, particularly from Ace, who feels betrayed by Hangman’s manipulation. The revelation complicates their already strained relationship.

Warning: This story includes themes of manipulation and workplace tension, leading to conflicts and personal revelations.

The sun beat down on NAS North Island as jets roared across the sky, the rhythmic hum of engines echoing throughout the base. Inside the hangar, pilots and crew members moved with practiced ease, their chatter blending with the distant sound of drills.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw sat on a bench in the locker room, his flight suit unzipped to his waist. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his tousled hair, his thoughts far from the noise around him. Lately, a gnawing sense of loneliness had settled in, one he couldn't quite shake.

Just as he was lost in thought, the door swung open with a bang. Natasha "Phoenix" Trace rushed in, her boots skidding slightly on the polished floor. There was a determined look in her eyes, one Rooster knew all too well—she was on a mission.

"Rooster, got a minute?" she asked, barely giving him time to respond before thrusting a crumpled piece of paper into his hand.

He frowned, unfolding the note to reveal an email address scrawled in neat handwriting. Confusion crossed his face as he looked up at Phoenix. "What's this?"

"An email address," Phoenix replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I know you can be slow sometimes, but I didn’t think I’d have to explain that part."

Rooster rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. "I can see that. But whose?"

Phoenix crossed her arms, her expression turning serious. "Listen, I’ve seen you moping around here, and frankly, it’s pathetic. You're my best friend, and I hate seeing you like this. So, I talked to a friend of mine—a good one—and got her email for you. The only rule is, you can’t ask her name. And she won’t ask for yours either."

Rooster blinked, taken aback. "You’re setting me up? Since when did you become a matchmaker?"

"Since you started acting like a lovesick puppy," Phoenix shot back, her tone teasing but her eyes sincere. "Look, just email her. No expectations, no pressure. Just talk. See where it goes."

Rooster glanced down at the email again, something about the mystery of it intriguing him. He’d never done anything like this before, and maybe that was exactly why he should give it a try.

"Alright," he finally said, tucking the paper into his pocket. "I’ll do it. But if this turns out to be some weird prank, I’m coming after you."

Phoenix laughed, the tension easing between them. "Trust me, Rooster. You might actually thank me for this one. Just don’t try to figure out who she is. Let it happen."

As Rooster watched her leave, he felt a strange mix of anticipation and curiosity. Maybe this was what he needed after all—a chance to connect with someone new, without the weight of the past hanging over him.

Across the base, in another part of the hangar, Y/N Y/L/N, known by her call sign "Ace," was finishing up a maintenance check on her jet. She wiped the sweat from her brow, satisfied with the day's work, when Jake "Hangman" Seresin approached her, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Hey, Ace," he called out, waving a folded piece of paper in the air as he jogged over.

She raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious. "What’s with the look, Seresin?"

He handed her the paper with a flourish, like he was presenting her with a winning lottery ticket. "Just a little something I thought you might appreciate. It’s an email address."

Ace unfolded the paper, eyeing the email address written there. "Whose is it?"

"That’s the fun part," Hangman replied, leaning against the jet with a smirk. "I know you’ve been keeping to yourself lately, and I figured you could use a distraction. So, I talked to a buddy of mine and got you this. The only rule is, you can’t ask him who he is, and he can’t ask about you. Just email him. See what happens."

Ace looked at the email address again, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Hangman said, his voice uncharacteristically sincere. "No games, no strings. Just an honest chance to connect with someone. What do you say?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, folding the paper and slipping it into her pocket. "Alright, I’ll give it a shot. But if this is your idea of a joke, Seresin, I’m not going to be happy."

Hangman laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Scout’s honour, Ace. I think you’ll like this one."

As he walked away, Ace couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. The anonymity of it, the chance to talk to someone without the usual baggage—it was intriguing. Maybe, just maybe, this was the kind of surprise she needed.

---

The day was winding down as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the base. The roar of jet engines had softened, leaving a quieter hum in the air.

Ace, tired but satisfied with the day’s work, was making her way out of the hangar. She was eager to get home, her mind already turning over what she might say in that first email to the mysterious address Hangman had given her.

As she rounded a corner, focused more on her thoughts than on where she was going, she collided hard with someone coming the other way. The impact jolted her back to reality, and she instinctively gripped her helmet tighter to avoid dropping it.

"Watch where you’re going!" she snapped, the words flying out before she even registered who she’d bumped into.

Rooster, equally caught off guard, scowled as he steadied himself. "Maybe you should try not walking around with your head in the clouds," he shot back, his tone sharp.

Ace narrowed her eyes at him, irritation bubbling up immediately. Rooster was the last person she wanted to deal with right now. Their relationship had always been rocky—too much ego and too many unresolved tensions.

"You’re one to talk," she muttered, brushing past him. "I’m surprised you didn’t trip over your own ego on the way here."

Rooster rolled his eyes, not willing to let it slide. "Yeah, well, at least I don’t need to be constantly reminded which way is up."

They glared at each other for a moment longer before Ace turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Rooster behind with a bitter taste in his mouth. As she walked away, she could feel the tension still crackling in the air, but she refused to let it ruin her evening.

From across the hangar, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace and Jake "Hangman" Seresin watched the interaction unfold, exchanging worried glances. They had been casually chatting when they noticed their two targets—Ace and Rooster—heading straight for each other. Now, as they observed the icy exchange, Phoenix let out a sigh.

"Well, that went about as well as a mid-air collision," she murmured, shaking her head.

Hangman chuckled nervously, though his usual confidence was tinged with doubt. "Yeah, I’m starting to think this might have been a bad idea. They can barely be in the same room without biting each other’s heads off."

Phoenix crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Maybe… or maybe this is exactly what they need. You know how it is—sometimes the people who push each other’s buttons the most are the ones who end up surprising you."

Hangman shrugged, though he still looked uncertain. "I hope you’re right, because if this backfires, we’re both going to hear about it for the rest of our lives."

Phoenix smirked, her confidence returning. "Trust me, Hangman. We’ve seen stranger things happen around here."

-

Ace slid into the driver’s seat of her car, tossing her helmet onto the passenger seat with a frustrated huff. The encounter with Rooster still lingered in her mind, but she wasn’t going to let it bother her. Not tonight.

She pulled out the crumpled piece of paper with the email address, staring at it for a moment before finally unlocking her phone. With a deep breath, she opened a new message and began typing, her fingers moving more quickly as she decided what to say.

Hey there, she started, keeping it simple. I’m not sure how this whole thing is supposed to work, but I guess we’re both in the same boat. So, here’s to whatever comes next.

She hesitated for a moment, then hit send before she could second-guess herself. Leaning back in her seat, she let out a slow breath, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nerves.

-

Back at his apartment, Rooster had just kicked off his boots and was settling in when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when he saw a new email notification.

Curious, he opened it and read the message, a grin slowly spreading across his face. The casual tone, the uncertainty—it was refreshing. Whoever this person was, they weren’t overthinking it, and he liked that.

Hey yourself, he typed back, his mood lightening as he responded. I’m not sure how this is supposed to go either, but I’m game to find out. Let’s see where this takes us.

He hit send, feeling a flicker of excitement. There was something fun about the anonymity of it all—no names, no faces, just two people connecting through words.

As he leaned back, waiting to see if they’d reply, he had no idea that the person on the other end was the very same pilot he’d just butted heads with. And for now, maybe that was for the best.

-

ACE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Ace sat on her couch, feet tucked underneath her as she scrolled through her emails. The mystery contact had quickly become the highlight of her evening, a welcome distraction from the routine of her day. She opened his latest email with a sense of anticipation.

Hey yourself, it began. I’m not sure how this is supposed to go either, but I’m game to find out. Let’s see where this takes us.

She couldn’t help but smile. There was something refreshing about this—no expectations, no judgments, just a conversation. She quickly typed a response.

Well, I guess we’re both in uncharted territory here. So, let’s start simple—how was your day?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rooster kicked back on his couch, his phone in hand. The quiet of his apartment felt more bearable with the company of his mystery emailer. When her reply came through, he read it with a growing interest.

Pretty standard—flew a few maneuvers, avoided crashing into anyone, and had a less-than-pleasant encounter with someone who seems to think they own the sky. You?

He chuckled to himself before typing back.

Sounds like a typical day in our line of work. As for me, I spent most of my day fixing things up and trying not to lose my patience with a certain someone who seems to thrive on pushing my buttons.

ACE’S APARTMENT - SAME NIGHT

Ace read his email and felt a spark of curiosity. The way he talked about his day sounded oddly familiar, like they might have more in common than she’d initially thought. She responded with a hint of playfulness.

Fixing things up? Sounds like we might work in the same field. My day involved some pretty similar frustrations—mostly with equipment, though a few people came close. What’s the most interesting part of your job?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - SAME NIGHT

Rooster raised an eyebrow as he read her reply. Was it possible they worked in the same industry? The thought intrigued him, but he decided to keep it vague.

The most interesting part? Probably the high-stakes situations. There’s nothing quite like the rush you get when everything’s on the line. What about you?

ACE’S APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT

Ace’s curiosity deepened. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they might be closer in their professional lives than either of them realized. She replied with a smile.

I’d have to agree with that. There’s something addictive about the adrenaline, the way you have to think on your feet. It’s not for everyone, but it definitely keeps things interesting. Ever have a moment where you thought, ‘This is it, this is why I do this’?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - LATER THAT NIGHT

Rooster felt a connection growing with this mystery person. The way she described the job, the adrenaline—it all resonated with him.

Definitely. There’ve been a few moments where it all comes together, and you remember why you signed up in the first place. It’s those moments that make the tough days worth it. Sounds like you know exactly what I mean.

ACE’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Ace smiled at the screen. There was an undeniable connection between them, something that went beyond the surface.

I do. It’s the reason we keep coming back, isn’t it? The rush, the challenge. So, what’s your favorite part of the day—when you’re up there, or when you’re down here figuring it all out?

She hit send, the thrill of the conversation growing with each exchange.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Rooster read her email, feeling that same thrill. It was like they were dancing around the details, both aware they were probably in the same line of work, but neither willing to say too much.

Honestly? It’s a bit of both. I love the freedom and the rush of being up there, but there’s something satisfying about the process of figuring things out down here too. You?

ACE’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Ace’s heart raced as she typed her response, the anonymity of their conversation adding to the excitement.

Same here. There’s a balance to it that I love. The thrill of being in the thick of it, and the quiet satisfaction of making sure everything runs smoothly when it’s all over. I guess you could say it’s a perfect mix of chaos and control.

She sent the message, feeling more connected to this stranger than she had to anyone in a long time.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Rooster read her reply, a grin spreading across his face. There was no denying it now—they were definitely in the same field. He wondered if they’d ever crossed paths without even knowing it.

Couldn’t have said it better myself. There’s something about that mix that’s just right. Maybe one day we’ll get the chance to compare notes in person—who knows?

He sent the email, his curiosity about her growing with every word.

ACE’S APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING

Ace’s pulse quickened as she read his last message. The thought of meeting him, of finding out who he was, sent a thrill through her.

Maybe we will. It’s a small world, after all. In the meantime, I’m enjoying getting to know you through these little windows into each other’s lives. Who knew this would turn out to be so fun?

She sent the message, already eager to see what he’d say next.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EARLY MORNING

Rooster leaned back, thinking about how surreal this all was. There was something almost magical about connecting with someone this way, without even knowing their name.

I have to admit, I’m enjoying it too. There’s something about the mystery that makes it all the more interesting. Who knows where this might lead?

He sent the message, his mind racing with possibilities. The night had turned out far better than he could have imagined.

---

The sun had barely risen over the base, casting a soft, golden light across the tarmac. Jets stood in neat rows, their sleek forms gleaming under the morning sun. The day was just beginning, but already there was a sense of energy in the air—a mix of anticipation and routine that every pilot knew well.

Ace arrived at the hangar, her steps quick and determined. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk, especially not after the strange, unexpected thrill of the email exchange last night. She had stayed up far too late, caught up in the banter with her mystery contact, and now she was paying for it. Her mind was still partially back in that conversation, trying to piece together who the person on the other end might be.

But her focus snapped back to the present the moment she saw him.

Bradshaw was already there, leaning casually against one of the jets with that familiar, infuriating smirk on his face. He was chatting with a couple of other pilots, his easy laughter carrying across the hangar. As soon as he noticed her, the smirk widened.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Rooster called out, his voice dripping with mock surprise.

Ace rolled her eyes, her irritation flaring instantly. "Some of us don’t need to parade around like peacocks just to get attention, Rooster."

He pushed off from the jet and strolled toward her, his hands in his pockets. "Oh, I don’t know, Ace. A little flair never hurt anyone. But I guess subtlety isn’t really your style, is it?"

She glared at him, crossing her arms. "You wouldn’t know subtlety if it flew up and hit you in the face."

Rooster chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Maybe not, but at least I don’t go around with a permanent chip on my shoulder. Lighten up, Ace. Not everything has to be a competition."

She stepped closer, refusing to back down. "When you’re around, everything is a competition. Or maybe you just don’t like losing."

Rooster’s eyes flashed with a mix of amusement and challenge. "You think I’m losing? That’s cute. Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night."

Ace’s jaw clenched, her irritation now fully transformed into a burning anger. "You know what, Rooster? One of these days, that ego of yours is going to get you in trouble."

He shrugged, unbothered by her words. "Maybe. But at least I won’t be the one who’s bitter and alone because I’m too stubborn to let anything slide."

Before Ace could fire back, the sound of a nearby jet engine roared to life, signalling that it was time to get to work. She shot him one last glare before turning on her heel and heading toward her plane. Rooster watched her go, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

The pilots gathered in the briefing room, a large, sterile space lined with chairs facing a wall of screens. The air was thick with the usual blend of tension and focus that accompanied every pre-flight briefing. Ace took a seat near the front, determined to focus on the mission and ignore Rooster, who had taken a seat a few rows behind her.

Phoenix stood at the front, leading the briefing with her usual no-nonsense attitude. She outlined the day’s manoeuvres and objectives, her voice calm and authoritative. But even as she spoke, she couldn’t help but notice the occasional, heated glances exchanged between Ace and Rooster.

It didn’t take long for the tension to bubble over.

Phoenix was in the middle of explaining a particularly complex manoeuverer when Rooster leaned back in his chair and spoke up, his tone casual but clearly intended to provoke.

"Some of us might need a refresher on this one. Don’t want anyone getting lost up there."

Ace stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look at him. "If you’re worried about keeping up, Rooster, maybe you should take notes."

A few of the other pilots exchanged glances, sensing the tension and doing their best to stay out of it. Phoenix sighed internally, knowing that once Ace and Rooster started, it was almost impossible to get them to stop.

"Alright, knock it off, you two," Phoenix said, her tone firm. "We’re here to work as a team, not to see who can throw the best insults. Save it for after the mission."

Ace bit back a retort, forcing herself to focus on the briefing instead of the urge to wipe that smug look off Rooster’s face. Rooster, for his part, simply leaned back and smirked, satisfied that he had gotten under her skin once again.

The day’s exercises were intense, a series of high-speed manoeuvres designed to push the pilots to their limits. Ace was in her element, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she focused on every turn, every dive. But no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t completely block out the presence of Rooster’s jet nearby.

Every time she checked her radar or adjusted her position, there he was—always close, always just a little too close. It felt like he was deliberately shadowing her, testing her, trying to outmanoeuvre her at every opportunity.

"Stay in your lane, Rooster," Ace muttered under her breath, though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

But it was clear from his manoeuvres that he was trying to show her up. Every roll, every dive was executed with precision, as if he was daring her to do better.

Ace grit her teeth and pushed her jet harder, determined not to let him get the upper hand. She mirrored his moves, staying right on his tail as they looped and rolled through the sky. The rivalry between them burned hotter with each passing moment, the tension building until it was almost unbearable.

But no matter how hard she pushed, Rooster was right there, matching her move for move. The frustration built up inside her until she could hardly see straight, her focus narrowing to just one thing: beating him.

When the exercises finally ended and the jets returned to base, Ace felt a wave of both relief and exhaustion. She landed her jet with a bit more force than necessary, her frustration still simmering just beneath the surface.

Back on the ground, the pilots gathered in the hangar to debrief and cool down. Ace was in the middle of checking her jet when Rooster walked by, a smug grin on his face.

"Looks like you were struggling a bit up there," he said, his tone infuriatingly casual.

Ace straightened up, fixing him with a cold stare. "I wasn’t struggling. But it’s cute that you think so."

Rooster shrugged, clearly unfazed. "If you say so. Maybe next time you’ll actually keep up."

Ace stepped closer, her frustration boiling over. "I don’t need to keep up with you, Rooster. If anything, you’re the one who’s slowing me down."

His grin widened, as if her anger was just what he’d been hoping for. "Slowing you down? Maybe you’re just not as fast as you think."

The two stood toe to toe, the tension between them crackling in the air. It was always like this—one little comment, one tiny spark, and they were at each other’s throats. Neither was willing to back down, and it was only a matter of time before one of them said something they couldn’t take back.

But before it could escalate any further, Phoenix walked over, her expression exasperated.

"Will you two knock it off already?" she said, stepping between them. "We’ve got enough to deal with today without you two bickering like school kids."

Ace took a deep breath, forcing herself to step back. Rooster, too, backed off, though the smug look never left his face.

"Fine," Ace muttered, turning her attention back to her jet. "Just stay out of my way."

Rooster gave a mock salute, his smirk still in place. "Whatever you say, Ace."

As he walked away, Ace’s frustration simmered, but she forced herself to focus on her work. She didn’t have time to let Rooster get under her skin—not when there was so much at stake.

But no matter how hard she tried to ignore him, the tension between them was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to flare up at a moment’s notice.

The day had been long, and by the time Ace returned to her quarters, she was exhausted. Her body was sore, her mind was racing, and all she wanted to do was collapse into bed. But as she sat on the edge of her bed, her phone buzzed with a new email notification.

She picked it up, her mood lightening slightly as she saw it was from her mystery contact. The memory of their flirtatious exchange the night before brought a small smile to her lips, a welcome distraction from the frustrations of the day.

Hey there, the email read. How was your day?

She sighed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she considered how to respond. Part of her wanted to vent about Rooster, about how infuriating he was, but she held back. She didn’t want to taint this connection with the negativity that seemed to follow her

---

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster was sprawled out on his couch, his guitar resting on his lap as he strummed absentmindedly. The buzz of his phone drew him out of his musings. He saw the email from his mystery contact and smiled, eager for a distraction from his day.

Hey there! My day was pretty intense. Spent most of it dealing with some annoying issues at work and got into a few heated exchanges. How about you?

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace read his response and couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed like they were both having a tough day. She typed back, her fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard.

Intense is definitely the word for it. I had a rough day with some tricky equipment and a certain pilot who seems to think he’s invincible. But enough about me—what’s your idea of a perfect way to unwind after a day like that?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster’s smile widened as he read her email. Her mention of a troublesome pilot made him wonder if they might be talking about the same person, but he decided not to press the issue. Instead, he focused on her question.

Ah, a perfect way to unwind? I’d say a good jam session or maybe just kicking back with a favourite movie. Something that takes my mind off the chaos of the day. What about you? Any special routines to shake off the stress?

ACE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Ace considered his response while taking a sip from her cup of tea. His laid-back approach to winding down was something she could relate to. She quickly typed her reply.

Sounds pretty good. For me, it’s usually a mix of hitting the gym or getting lost in a good book. Sometimes, a good meal with friends can do wonders too. It’s nice to have a little routine to fall back on after a hectic day.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rooster liked the idea of winding down with friends—it was a nice contrast to the solitary nature of his typical evenings. He began typing his response with a relaxed grin.

Sounds like you’ve got a pretty solid routine. I’ve got to say, a good meal with friends sounds like something I could use more of. Maybe I should work on that. Anyway, what kind of books are you into? I’m always looking for recommendations.

ACE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Ace’s interest was piqued by his question. She enjoyed talking about books and was happy to share her favorites.

I’m a bit of a mix—I love thrillers and mysteries, but I also have a soft spot for classic literature. Recently, I’ve been diving into some historical fiction. How about you? What’s your go-to genre?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Rooster read her email with interest. Her love for thrillers and classic literature was something he could relate to, though his tastes leaned a little differently.

I’m a fan of thrillers myself, though I’ve been known to get into sci-fi and fantasy from time to time. It’s always nice to escape into a different world for a while. Historical fiction sounds intriguing, though. I might need to check that out.

ACE’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Ace felt a genuine connection through their exchange. She was enjoying this conversation more than she’d expected. She responded with a hint of her playful side.

Sci-fi and fantasy, huh? That’s a pretty interesting mix. You might have to convince me that they’re worth diving into. And if you ever need a book recommendation, just let me know. I might have a few hidden gems up my sleeve.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

Rooster’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he read her playful offer. He liked the idea of her recommending books—it felt like a little inside joke between them.

I’ll definitely take you up on that. And I’m always up for a good book challenge. Just don’t be too surprised if I end up recommending a few sci-fi classics in return. It’s all part of the fun, right?

ACE’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Ace’s smile grew as she read his response. The playful banter was exactly what she needed after a long day. She decided to keep the momentum going.

Challenge accepted. I’m ready for your recommendations anytime. And who knows, maybe we’ll end up with a shared list of must-reads by the end of this.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Rooster’s grin widened. He liked the idea of a book exchange and was intrigued by the way their conversation was flowing. He typed his last message of the night.

Looking forward to it. It’s nice to have something to look forward to, especially after a day like today. Here’s to new books and unexpected connections. Talk soon?

ACE’S APARTMENT - VERY LATE NIGHT

Ace finished her tea and read his message with satisfaction. She felt a genuine connection growing and was looking forward to continuing the conversation.

Definitely. Here’s to more chats and less stress. I’ll be here.

She sent the email and closed her laptop, feeling a sense of calm settle over her. The mystery contact was turning out to be a much-needed bright spot in her hectic life.

---

The hangar was alive with the usual pre-flight activity. Rooster was inspecting his jet, but his attention kept drifting towards Ace, who was absorbed in her tablet. Her brows were furrowed, and she seemed completely engrossed in whatever was on the screen.

Rooster, never one to miss an opportunity, strolled over with a casual swagger, a mischievous grin on his face. “Hey, Ace,” he called out, his tone light but laced with teasing. “Looks like you’re pretty absorbed over there. Texting someone special, are we?”

Ace glanced up, her expression a mix of irritation and surprise. “What’s it to you, Rooster?”

Rooster leaned in a little closer, clearly enjoying the moment. “Just curious. I saw you typing away like your life depends on it. You’ve got to be talking to someone pretty important, right? A special someone, maybe?”

Ace’s eyes narrowed as she tried to hide the screen of her tablet. “It’s none of your business. Can’t you just focus on your own stuff?”

Rooster’s grin widened. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so secretive. I’m just wondering if you’re setting up a hot date or maybe just chatting with a certain someone who’s been on your mind.”

Ace’s face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Seriously, Rooster? Not everything’s a joke. I’m just dealing with some work stuff.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying riling her up. “Work stuff, huh? If it’s work, why’re you so secretive? You can tell me. I promise I won’t judge. Or is it that you’re afraid I might find out it’s someone...well, let’s say, more interesting?”

Ace’s frustration peaked. She shoved her tablet into her bag and took a step toward Rooster, her voice low but fierce. “You’ve been on my case all morning. If you don’t back off, I swear—”

Rooster chuckled, stepping back slightly. “Whoa, calm down there. I’m just making conversation. Didn’t realize you’d be so touchy about it. Guess it’s a sensitive topic.”

Before Ace could respond, Phoenix and the other squad members noticed the growing tension. Phoenix stepped in, her expression serious. “Alright, enough. If you two can’t handle a little teasing without it escalating, I’m going to have to step in.”

Hangman and Coyote, catching the edge in Phoenix’s tone, moved closer. Coyote placed a hand on Ace’s shoulder, gently pulling her back. “Hey, Ace, take a breath. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

Hangman approached Rooster, his expression one of mixed amusement and exasperation. “Rooster, you’re really pushing it today. Maybe give it a rest, huh?”

Ace, still seething, shook her head. “I’m done with this. I just want to get through the day without dealing with his nonsense.”

Rooster, now more subdued but still smirking, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Fanboy and Bob, who had been watching from a distance, approached to help defuse the situation. Fanboy clapped Rooster on the shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s focus on the mission.”

Bob nodded in agreement, glancing at Ace with concern. “Everyone needs to stay cool. We’ve got enough on our plates without adding personal drama to the mix.”

As the squad began to gather for the briefing, the tension between Ace and Rooster lingered, but they both knew they had to refocus. Phoenix took a deep breath, addressing the group. “Let’s all get it together. We’ve got a briefing coming up, and we need to be professional.”

Ace and Rooster, now separated by the intervention of their teammates, walked toward the briefing room, the earlier animosity still simmering but temporarily set aside. The squad’s intervention had helped to de-escalate the situation, but the morning’s drama left a mark on everyone’s mood as they prepared for the day’s mission.

---

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace slumped onto her couch, exhausted from the day’s events. Her laptop was open, and she continued her email conversation with her anonymous contact, hoping to unwind a bit. She began typing with a mix of curiosity and irritation about the ongoing mystery.

Hey,

Today was a disaster. Had a big argument with a colleague who really knows how to get under my skin. Not the best day for me. But this email exchange has been a good distraction, I guess.

How about you? How’s your day going? Anything to share?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster read her email with a smirk. He was enjoying the light-hearted banter but was curious to see if he could draw out more information. He typed back, subtly hinting at the similarities in their work environments.

Hey,

Sounds like we’ve both had our share of drama. My day wasn’t any better—had some heated exchanges with colleagues. It’s like we’re living in the same soap opera.

I’m starting to think our work situations might be more similar than we realized. Anyway, got any funny or surprising stories from your day?

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace read his email with increasing suspicion. His description of his day seemed all too familiar. Deciding to push further, she typed her response, trying to get more clues about who he might be.

Hey,

It’s funny—your day sounds almost too familiar. I’m starting to wonder if we might be talking about the same environment. If you’re in a high-pressure job with lots of drama, I might have a pretty good guess about who you are.

Any hints?

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster saw her email and felt a spark of recognition. He decided to give a direct clue to see if it would lead to an answer.

Hey,

Alright, here’s a hint: I work in a place where tensions are high and everyone’s on edge. Sounds like you might be in a similar boat. Does that help?

I’m curious—any idea who I might be?

INT. ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace read his clue and felt a sharp pang of realization. Her frustration from the day mixed with the sudden clarity about her correspondent’s identity. She quickly typed her response, her irritation clear in her words.

You’ve got to be kidding me. With your “high-pressure” job description, it’s pretty obvious that you’re Rooster. I should have known, I can’t believe I’ve been having these conversations with you, of all people.

This is ridiculous. And to think I was actually enjoying this exchange. I’m so done with this.

ROOSTER’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Rooster’s eyes widened in shock as he read Ace’s email. The realization hit him hard, and his amusement turned into frustration. He quickly typed a reply, his tone reflecting his annoyance.

Seriously? I had a feeling, but this is just perfect. So it turns out I’ve been emailing with Ace. I should have known you’d be the one on the other end. What a surprise.

I can’t believe you were getting so worked up over these emails. Great, just great. I guess we’ve got a lot to talk about now. Or maybe not.

ACE’S APARTMENT - EVENING

Ace’s frustration flared as she read Rooster’s reply. She cursed under her breath, the realization that Rooster was behind the emails making her even more upset. She slammed her laptop shut, her annoyance with both Rooster and Hangman boiling over.

“Damn it, Rooster. And damn Hangman for setting this up!” she fumed. “This whole thing was a setup from the start.”

She paced the room, trying to calm herself. The surprise and anger of discovering her mystery contact was Rooster left her seething. The day had been a mess, and the email revelation only added fuel to the fire.

Please comment, like and reblog!

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 1: Mile High Club

Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky start your honeymoon off the right way - by fucking in his private jet.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, sex on a plane, semi public sex, fingering, fingering in front of an unsuspecting flight attendant, oral (fem receiving), face sitting, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: the start of our honeymoon adventure! I hope you all enjoy all the fun smuttiness! Dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library | Ko-fi

Bucky’s large, tattooed hand, adorned with a gold wedding band, is splayed on your thigh as his luxurious private jet roars to life, racing along the runway until you sense the drop in your stomach as it lifts off the ground and into the air.

Your heart begins to race as you feel Bucky’s hand slowly inch further up your thigh as the plane climbs higher in the sky. You take a deep, steadying breath as the force of the plane pushes your body back into your seat, appreciating the plush leather against your bare skin as Bucky’s electric touch reaches the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your honeymoon hasn’t even technically started and he is already proving that he can’t keep his hands off you. Just one of the many reasons you married him in the first place.

“I can’t wait to finally have my wife all to myself.” Your newlywed whispers as his hand reaches the apex of your thigh, your heart races just that little bit faster at the prospect of being caught by the stewardess required to accompany you on the flight.

“Hmm, and what have you got planned for when we’re all alone my dear husband?” Your breath hitches in your throat as Bucky’s cold finger slips underneath your panties and ghosts across your warm core.

A dangerously cocky grin curves onto his plump lips and even before he says the words to confirm your fate, you know he is going to make this a honeymoon you’ll never forget.

“I’m thinking about all the different ways I can ruin you and keep you stuffed full of my cum for the next four weeks.” He whispers seductively directly into your ear as his middle finger breaches your entrance. You inhale a sharp breath and bite the side of your lip as he pushes all the way in, smirking at you as if he knows this is just the beginning of every way he plans to ravage you.

A ding rings out through the cabin and before you can so much as flinch, an impeccably dressed hostess appears in front of you.

“We’re at cruising altitude, you can now unbuckle your seatbelts. Sir, is there anything you need?” She asks in a sweet voice, her tone indicating she either cannot see Bucky’s finger knuckle deep inside your dripping pussy, obstructed by the table in front of you, or is choosing not to acknowledge that fact.

Bucky answers without taking his eyes off you.

“To be left alone with my wife.”

The stewardess disappears as quickly as she materialised, but when Bucky adds a second finger to your pussy, stretching your walls by scissoring his fingers, your periphery goes blurry.

He picks up the pace, thrusting both fingers in and out of you relentlessly, his calloused thumb swiping over your clit with the perfect pressure he has learnt with experience does you in.

“That’s the spot, isn’t it darling.” He whispers in your ear as he curls his fingers to graze over the spongy patch inside you which makes you see stars. You nod but it’s superfluous, Bucky knows every inch of your body and is fully aware he’s got you figuratively and literally in the palm of his hand.

You grab hold of his veiny forearm to keep you tethered to reality as his motions bring you ever closer to floating off on a cloud of bliss.

“Cum for me.” Your husband demands. With a vigorous thrust of his fingers and a swipe of his thumb over your clit, the band in your lower stomach snaps and you comply with Bucky’s orders.

It is only once you’ve come down from your high that Bucky removes his fingers from your drenched pussy. He teases your lips with his slick covered fingers until you open wide and begin sucking on them, tasting your own sweet release.

“You know, I had a bed installed in the back of the jet just for this very occasion.” Bucky comments, nipping at your earlobe as you swirl your tongue around his fingers.

“What are we still doing here then?”

Bucky leads you to the back of the plane with your hand intertwined with his. As soon as the sliding door to the small yet private bedroom shuts behind you, Bucky’s lips attach to the column of your neck as every piece of clothing covering both your bodies gets thrown to the ground.

You’re held protectively in his arms as Bucky falls backwards onto the soft expanse of the bed. He kisses you assiduously as his hands roam your body, eventually making their way down to your ass, manhandling you to pull your body above his face.

“Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Can’t believe she’s all mine for the rest of my life.” Bucky hums before diving in. He starts with licking one long stripe up your slit, and you can feel his lips form a grin against you as your thighs tighten around his head. “You taste so good. So sweet.” He eats you out as if he’s been fasting for months, when in reality he was between your thighs on your wedding night less than 16 hours ago. He switches between his tongue being buried in your cunt, fucking up into your puckered hole and slurping obscenely, lapping up all the juices through your folds, twirling the tip of his tongue around your clit.

“Bucky, please, I-, please.” Your hands grasp onto his hair, tugging harder as his fingertips dig into the meat of your ass. The vibrations of his voice and the plane as it races through the atmosphere sends sparks firing up the base of your spine through your whole body.

“Are you desperate for your husband's cock, Mrs Barnes?” He asks teasingly against your folds, knowing referring to you by your new title will only make you wetter.

“Yes, Buck! I’m fucking dripping - need you so bad.” You plead with a sob, your pussy clenching around nothing, the ache within you burning like a forest fire which could only be quelled with him deep inside you.

Bucky’s soft lips place a feather light kiss to your sensitive clit before his strong hands grasp your hips tightly, lifting you onto his thick thighs. Your mind is dizzy with lust and pleasure, but Bucky’s dazzling blue eyes, the same ones that were the first feature of his you noticed the night you met, stand out clearly in your haze.

“Then take it. Take it like the good little whore I married. Take every inch of this dick and show me why it’s yours.”

Bucky’s large, rough hands don’t leave your hips as you stroke his thick length with both your hands a couple times as you lift yourself above him, rubbing his bulbous tip through your soaking folds. Lining yourself up with him, you press your hips back down on him slowly, feeling him fill you up to the brim.

You let out simultaneous groans, your eyes never once leaving Bucky’s as you focus on the sensation of how deliciously full and satiated you feel, how his eyes widen and lips fall apart is exactly like the first time you slept with him after making this formidable mob boss prove he’d treat you right.

You’d never forget the feeling of the first time he thrust into you, the fervour in which he worshipped your body and the way those ocean eyes gazed at you like you were the most precious gem he planned on treasuring for as long as you’d let him. This hardened man, who strikes fear in the eyes of the toughest of crime lords, is soft for you and only you.

It was the moment you truly understood what sex could be like - should be like.

You knew then that there was no one else for you. That you’d eventually marry him.

Both your hands find his strong, tattooed chest to steady yourself as you begin circling your hips, grinding against him, moaning at the sensation of your puffy clit rubbing the coarse hair at his pelvic bone.

“Oh God, Bucky, you’re so deep.” With Bucky’s strong hands assisting you, you push yourself up and sink back down on his cock. He lets you set your own pace, finding the right angle where he strokes all the right spots that makes your knees weak.

You can feel his heartbeat quicken under your fingertips, his mesmerised gaze fixated on how he’s filling you.

“Fuck, baby, look at you swallowing me whole.” Once you’ve built up a rhythm, one of Bucky's hands navigates to your breast where he flicks your pert nipple with his thumb, the other moving to where your bodies join, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

The pleasure feels like it’s coming from all directions, from both externally and within you, it’s too much and not enough at the same time, every nerve firing with pure euphoria, threatening to send you straight to heaven.

“I’m so close, Buck…” A sob bubbles up your throat, all cells in your body swelling with immense pleasure. More than ever you can feel each ridged inch of Bucky stretching out your pussy, every sensation heightened as with each rock of your hips you hurtle ever closer to your second high.

“Go ahead, my love, let go. Cum on your husband's cock.”

Ecstasy overtakes your entire body at his permission, your eyes roll backwards, your whole body seizes and your bouncing motions stop as your walls flutter around his thick, veiny length. But Bucky doesn’t let you off that easily, he grabs both of your hips and starts fucking up into you hard and fast, prolonging and heightening your orgasm with each graze of your g-spot, making your legs shake and you scream out his name so loudly you’re sure the pilots can hear.

You collapse into his chest as his thrusts become staggered, closing in on his own high. Placing a gentle kiss to his sharp jaw, Bucky grunts, moans your name and stalls within you, ropes of his cum painting your walls.

You tap his strapping chest three times as you both pant, catching your breath cuddling up to one another. I. Love. You.

His embrace feels like home, even thousands of feet up in the air. You’re certain that no matter where in the world you are, James Bucky Barnes will always be your safe place.

“Now, let's see how many more times I can make you cum before we land.”

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot

[revelboo]

It Had to Be You

Megatron x Reader-spark

• It’s amazing that something so precious can even be taken for granted. It’s just there, that sense of connection. Of Cybertron, a living Cybertron, being so much a part of Megatron that he never thought about it. Didn’t understand the extent. None of them had until it was too late.

• How long had it taken to feel that loss after Cybertron was dead, ravaged by their war? A spark-deep ache that echoed through them all with Cybertron’s fall. They'd all lost something they hadn't even realized could be lost. Cybertron wasn't just home- they needed that connection to their source to stabilize their sparks. Consigned to slowly fade away, growing accustomed to the loss. It becomes an old, familiar hurt. But it doesn't stop the fighting, it only fuels the hate.

• The battlefront has changed so many times. So many worlds suffering just because they arrive. He's lost track of all of the broken worlds. That first world, his, is the only one that mattered. And it had been stolen away by what had once been his friend. His brother. It didn't matter if the universe burns now. He can't stop, not when so much is already lost forever. What's one more world he won't remember?

• It’s so hot you can barely breathe, the wind whipping your hair into your face in little stinging lashes. Overhead, the sun bakes the desert, your truck, and the winding road. You'd never meant to end up here in the Midwest, but its where the money had run out in your bid for the coast. Staying hadn't been the plan, either. Everything had gone a bit sideways. You'd dreamed of the ocean, not scraggly nothingness that still somehow managed to catch on fire every year for sheer spite.

• The semitruck that overtakes you on the narrow ribbon of cracked asphalt is speeding, its engine roaring as it passes you in the left lane. In a hurry to be somewhere else. Something you could envy, but then another car, sleek and red is tearing by. And another. It's the weirdest convoy you've ever seen. A police car, several foreign cars, a couple of sports cars, an ambulance. All hellbent on keeping up with that big semi.

• You're speeding, but not nearly like they are. Maybe it's a shoot for a movie? But where are the cameras? Distracted in you musings, you still hear the screaming over your radio. A roaring shriek that makes your skin crawl, then there are jets tearing by overhead. You lean forward, staring up through the dusty windshield as the three fly by so low it’s frightening. It must be a movie. The nearest airbase is in the next state. Why hadn't they shut the road down to film, though? Unease spills through you as you ease up on the gas.

• They're running. It’s stop them now or they just go to ground again. Megatron’s played this game so many times on so many worlds and he’s so tired of it. Once Prime and his followers take alt modes, they disappear and then strike on their terms. Not this time. His Seekers tear after them, loosing a barrage of missiles as he draws near. There’s an almost giddy satisfaction in watching them swerve and dodge as he drops through the clouds, rotors humming. This form isn’t as cumbersome as his last, but it’s still new. It’s only when he releases his own missiles that he feels it.

• A flicker of something that feels like it should be familiar. Something he’s forgotten, but can almost recall. He sees it then, the truck swerving and bouncing off the road. Not an Autobot, but one of the squishy, little natives in the wrong place at the wrong time. Irrelevant, short-lived insects.

• Except, somehow he can feel their biofield pulsing in panic as they go careening. And his own spark constricts with something frightening and hungry. Responding. He’s dropping too fast, aware of his Seekers engaging the Autobots. Transforming as he lands, he’s pulled toward that truck as it runs into the rocks and nearly goes sideways. There’s a battle around him, but it’s nothing compared to the storm inside him. His spark aches. The metal roof of the truck comes away under his fingers as he stares at the little creature struggling with some sort of restraint. It’s biofield. His spark. He knows this feeling even if he can’t put a servo on it. It hurts. He needs it even as it hurts so much.

• There’s a monster. You can’t breathe and there’s a monster staring down at you from where the roof of your truck’s cab had been five minutes ago. Clawing at the seatbelt, it finally comes loose and you throw yourself at the door handle. Away. That’s all you can think of. Getting away. Things are exploding, there’s smoke, and yelling. And monsters with glowing red eyes. You fall out of the truck when the door opens and that thing is reaching for you, huge fingers snagging you as you finally catch your breath just so you can scream.

Next

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 14

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,440ish

Summary: Logan worries over you. He goes looking for answers.

Warnings: unconscious, wounds

Notes: Okay! I'm done for the day! I know that was a lot of updates for this series but I couldn't help myself!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! (I’m now including this as its own section because people keep not reading it in the notes.)

“Y/N!” Logan roared as soon as he saw you fall back. 

Logan leapt out of the head of the statue and used his claws to climb up the arm to the torch. When he got up there, he pulled you away from the edge and into his arms.

“I didn’t mean to!” Rouge exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to!”

Logan ignored Rogue, focusing on you and how deep the claw marks were that were now bleeding out. He had done that to you. He had caused that. His nose caught the scent of your blood and he was suddenly transported into a memory. 

It was similar situation, where you were lying, bleeding out in his arms.  Your wounds weren’t healing and he was crying over your body. You weren’t even breathing and he could almost still feel how cold you had been.

Logan pulled himself out of the memory as his ears honed in on your heartbeat and how it was still there. You were still alive. You were breathing and you were warm.

Scott had ran to get the jet, so that it would be easier to get you inside. He flew it up and tried to help Logan bring you inside, but Logan refused to let you go. The flight back to the mansion was completely silent. Jean watched you carefully from where she could until they landed.

“Logan,” Jean softly called. “I need to take Y/N to the lab.” Logan growled, holding you tighter to his chest. Jean knelt in front of Logan, trying to get him to look at her. “I’m only trying to help her. I think I can get her healing abilities to kick in, but you have to let me try.”

Logan nodded, his tension slowly releasing. He stood up and carried you into the lab where Ororo had set up a table near the Professor. Logan set you down but was hesitant to step away. It didn’t even truly know you or the history that the two of you shared, but Logan knew that he would do anything to protect you. He only needed you alive to be able to do that.

“Here,” Ororo pulled up a chair. “Sit. You can watch Jean without getting in her way.”

“Thanks,” Logan mumbled as he plopped himself down in the chair. 

Logan watched Jean carefully as she took care of you. She bandaged you up before adding wires and tubes. Jean made sure to explain anything that she was doing that may cause Logan to grow upset with her. Once you were stabilized, Jean moved over to the Professor and began helping him. Logan moved the chair closer to you and gently took your hand, holding it between his hands. 

~~~

Days past, with Logan refusing to leave your side until you woke. He fought off sleep as well as he could until it finally took over him. Jean came down to find Logan’s head resting on the table with you and his hand still holding yours. She smiled at the sight before moving over to the Professor to try and continue to guide him through his mind. Jean smiled when she noticed the Professor blinking.

“Welcome back,” she whispered, catching his attention. “I knew you’d find your way.”

“I had you to guide me,” he responded. “How did we do?”

Jean’s smile fell as she turned to look at where you and Logan were. Charles turned his head to see you bandaged up, still not fully healed, on the table with Logan asleep beside you.

“He hasn’t left her side,” Jean told him.

“Good,” Charles responded. “They need each other.”

~~~

Logan woke a few hours later to find that the Professor was no longer in the room. He felt revealed that the man was okay. If only you were. He stood up and looked you over. Peeling back the bandages, Logan realized that they had finally healed, leaving scares where his claws had marked you. Logan let his fingers lightly run over the scars. You jolted slightly, groaning as your hand went up to stop his hand.

“Oh!” You rasped. “That tickles.” You opened your eyes slowly to see Logan staring down at you, a mixture of emotions in his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he responded quietly. “How are you feeling?”

You did a quick mental scan of your body. You were sore and tired but alive. “Fantastic.”

“That was a stupid thing you did. You should have let me do it.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it doesn’t matter anymore… How’s Rogue?”

Logan chuckled. “She took on a few of your fiery personality traits for a while. Jean believes she developed a crush on me thanks to you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah… I had to tell her that my heart belongs to someone else.” The air left your lungs as you stared up at Logan in shock. He quickly continued talking, not giving you room for a response. “I know that we have a long road ahead, but I… I saw your death. When I got to you on the torch, it was like I was reliving it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize… I don’t know who I am, or much about you, but I want to try. I want answers. I want to learn about you and who we were.”

“Okay.”

“It will be slow.”

“I know.”

“And it may not be the same—“

“Logan,” you lifted your hand to his cheek. “I know.”

Logan took your hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss to the palm of it. “I… I may have to leave to get some of the answers.”

“I’ll come—“

“I think it’s something I need to do on my own.”

“Oh.” You pulled your hand down. Fear gnawed at you. If he were to leave, would he ever return?

Logan could tell that you were not okay with the idea of him leaving on his own. “Y/N—“

“How’s the professor?”

Logan’s jaw clenched at your quick change of subject. “He’s fine.”

“Good.”

~~~

Jean discharged you as soon as Logan informed her that you were awake. Rogue was quick to find you and apologize but you brushed her off, saying that you’d do it again to protect her. You eventually found yourself in the briefing room with Logan and Charles after Charles had explored Logan’s mind as much as he could.

“There’s an abandoned military compound at Alkali Lake in the Canadian Rockies close to where we found you,” Charles explained as the table showed a diagram of the area. “There’s not much left but you might find some answers.”

“Thank you,” Logan said, staring at the diagram.

“Are you going to say goodbye to them?”

“Maybe.”

Logan brushed past you as he left the room. Charles sighed as he looked at you.

“Don’t let him leave without a goodbye,” Charles warned you. 

You nodded. “Alright.”

~~~

Many of the students and faculty were on the main floor, watching the television. You were leaning in the doorway, nervously waiting for Logan to come back down the stairs. You knew he was up there packing and you absolutely hated it. 

Logan could see you from the top of the stairs, waiting for him. He hated the thought of leaving you, but he needed to find these answers to on his own. He couldn’t risk you in case something went wrong.

You could hear Logan coming down the stairs. Slowly you turned to face him. Logan stopped a little ways in front of you.

“Walk me out?” He wondered. 

You nodded. The two of you walked into the entry way in silence. Logan stopped at the door, turning to face you.

“Let me come with you,” you requested.

“I can’t have that, sweetheart,” Logan told you. “I need to go on my own.”

“Why? I have fought those people who experimented on you too. I can take care of myself if something goes wrong.”

“I trust you. It’s them I don’t trust. You told me that they killed you to get to me. I can’t let that happen again, especially if they are successful.”

“Logan—“

“No. I’ll be back.”

“Will you?”

Logan tore his dog tags from his neck and handed them to you. “Now you have mine and I have yours.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back. I promise. I still want your side of the story. All of it.”

You watched as Logan left, walking down to the end of the property. He turned to see you standing at the window. He gave a nod before taking Scott’s motorcycle and driving away.

next chapter >

[avocado-writing]

Could I have Halsin x afab!enby!reader smut with some breeding kink, please?

notes: darling you're so polite when you request smut, like you're ordering from a menu of course you can 😌

rating: E. This is filthy. Minors dni

pairing: halsin x reader

words: <1k

It feels like every aspect of your existence has been narrowed down to this point - here, now, speared on your druid’s cock.

Halsin is an attentive lover; he fucks you like it is his duty. You’re laid out on your back beneath him, candyfloss-brained and pliable like clay, every aspect of you his. He unmakes you with his touch, brings you to ecstasy over and over, content just to watch your pleasure - he told you once that you were nature’s most exquisite sight and, given the way he’s staring down at you now with pupils so wide that his irises are obscured, you might just be able to believe it.

“Ahh… Halsin…” you manage, pawing up at his thick chest with boneless fingers. He takes your hand in a firm, sweet embrace, raising it so he can kiss you on your wrist, your palm, your knuckles. 

“My love. Perfect. I want you in every possible way.”

His eyes flash with a devilish delight, and in that moment you know what he’d ask of you. It’s something which you freely give.

“Halsin… put a baby in me…” you sigh, linking your ankles at the small of his back to drive his cock even deeper into you. He is thick, wonderfully so, and long too - he reaches further inside of you than anyone ever has before. You are full to the brim with Halsin, Halsin, Halsin; the warm rub of him driving you wild. 

But you want to be overflowing.

When he hears those words stumble from your lips his thrusting goes erratic for a beat, you can feel him throb. He makes a low, bestial growl in the back of his throat. A primal noise, possessive.

“Hmm… If you ask me to do that, I will be unable to stop having you until I’m certain that you’re pregnant. I can barely keep my hands off of you anyway. but if you want me to give you a child you… there is a chance you won’t leave our bed until I can see how round you are.”

You moan at the idea of him keeping you in one place and pumping you so full of spend that your puffy hole is constantly dripping with it. That he has to bring you food and water to keep you contented because you’re so cock-drunk that you can’t move. No room for thoughts. Just open legs and willing cunt until you can feel your womb quicken with him.

“Do it, Halsin, fuck. Mark me as yours. Show the world who shares my bed every night. I want everyone to look at me and know what you’ve done…”

Another growl, this one louder, and marked with the snapping of his hips forward into you. The sounds of wetness coming from your coupling are lewd and gorgeous as he pounds into you over and over. You don’t think that you’ve ever been this wet. 

His hand spreads out across the expanse of your stomach, warmth from his skin seeping into you. It is as if he is picturing his seed taking root inside of you. You are ripe, willing, and desperate for it, for him, and he is vicious about the idea of you swelling with a cub he breeds into you. 

Hips move faster. You’re going to finish. He’s going to finish, and as the head of his cock bounces into the sweet spot against your walls you feel him come harder than he’s ever done before - he lets out a bitten-off roar as he spills, filling you over and over with his hot jets. As the inside of your cunt is coated you follow him over the precipice and experience an orgasm so intense that it feels as if your soul has left your body for a moment - but Halsin brings you back with a fierce kiss.

He continues to ride out his release inside of you, tender little rolls of his hips until he begins to soften. Even then he remains inside of you, connected in the most intimate of embraces, forehead resting against yours as the two of you breathe the same air.

“Gods,” you manage eventually, and Halsin laughs, low and gravelly.

“Oak Father preserve us all. You will be the end of me, you know.”

“Yes, and won’t it be fun?” you say with a cheeky grin. He groans.

“I don’t know if my old bones can take it.”

“Well, I believe in you. Fancy trying again? I want you to make good on your promise, you know, and the more we try the better our odds are…” 

He lets out another low noise, and with glee you feel him harden again.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @infinitely-kate @trappedinlimbo15 @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 14

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, swearing, references to the loss of a parent or parents, reference to past bedroom activities

Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

The ride home was spent in silence. The girls had quickly packed their things and mounted their horses after Savannah had shrieked at their father that she wanted to go home, right that second. Jake had nodded at them that they were going home, and they were all fully packed within a half an hour.

Savannah hadn’t made a peep since, only hissing at their father that his ‘chances’ with her father were now impossible before plopping herself onto a boulder and ignoring them all. Jake had only huffed a sigh and packed both of their bags up before tacking up the horses.

They had taken the short trail back to the ranch and took no stops, so they ended up back at the ranch just before dinner time, their mother peeking her head out of the curtains and frowning at them.

Savannah clumsily dismounted, Angel stomping her foot in discomfort until the petite blond had her designer cowgirl boots on solid ground. With a huff, Savannah whipped her hair as she turned towards their father and hurled her engagement ring at his chest.

“You could’ve been so much more than this,” she hissed at him, jerking her chin at his girls. “We could’ve sent them to a boarding school or to live with their mother, and you could’ve joined the Navy again like you wanted to! Instead, you’ll never be anything but some…some…farmer!”

Jake shook his head slowly at her, his eyes locked on her with a look that Charlie was very happy she had never seen directed at her.

“I would never have let you send my girls to boarding school. Being their father is the best thing I have ever done. And if you can’t see that, then it’s your fault,” Jake’s voice was calm and cool, but Rooster recognized it as he and Buttercup emerged from the house, trying and failing to look nonchalant as they rushed towards the tense looking confrontation. It was Jake’s mission voice. His Hangman voice. The same voice he had used when he had confronted Rooster about the Uranium Mission, about him not having what it takes to fly, about how he was only there because Maverick had flown with Rooster’s old man. Hangman was pure arrogance and jet fuel, with none of Jake’s tenderness and homespun, golden boy manners.

“Or is it your fault for not telling me there were two of those little demons?” Savannah sneered.

“Watch it,” Buttercup stepped forward. “Nobody gets to talk about my girls that way.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “You can have him,” she scoffed as she turned her back on them all and strolled towards the big, black SUV that was thundering up the drive. “Nobody will want him now anyway.”

Rooster moved to stand next to Jake as Savannah clambered up into the SUV that her father was driving, offering the retired Air Force Colonel a sarcastic salute before crouching and retrieving the fallen diamond ring.

They watched in silence as the SUV roared away, a collective sigh of relief rippling through them all as it disappeared into the distance.

“I feel like I should burn this thing,” Rooster mused, staring down at the platinum band. “Y’know, douse it in holy water and set it on fire so it doesn’t attract any more hell spawn.”

Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Shut up, man. Hey! Slow your roll, you two!”

Rooster peered over his shoulder at the twins, who were trying to make a sneaky exit into the house. Rooster chuckled as they glanced at each other and slowed their footsteps but didn’t stop.

“Freeze, ladies!” Buttercup barked, striding towards them. “You know what your father meant.”

With a sigh that heaved their shoulders, Abby and Charlie halted on the porch and turned towards their parents.

Jake crouched in front of them and scanned their faces with his pilot’s precision.

“Someone better start talking…” he murmured into the still air.

“Well, you see—”

“We didn’t actually do anything wrong—”

“It’s only that—”

“Nothing dangerous—”

Jake held up a hand and the air went still again.

“Chipmunks don’t just miraculously appear in a closed saddlebag,” he started, staring between them. “They have to be placed there. And I don’t know anyone better at handling rodents than my daughter Charlie, who has been helping remove chipmunks and squirrels from the hay loft since she was a toddler.” Charlie flushed, kicking at a stone beneath her boot. “And while I appreciate the concern you both had about Savannah having an allergic reaction, that doesn’t explain this.” He pulled the open packet of itching powder out of his jeans pocket. Abby gulped. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the hay around the tent spikes of Savannah’s tent either.” He looked between them. “All I want to know is why?”

He stared at them for a long moment, green clashing with green, until Abby groaned and crumbled. “I’m sorry, Dad, but Savannah was awful. She bragged about being a champion rider, but anyone with eyes could tell she had never been on a horse! And she was always hanging off you like she couldn’t do anything by herself. And…”

“And her vibe was way off, Dad,” Charlie added, stepping forward. “And I think you knew that. That’s why you didn’t introduce us until after you proposed.”

“I didn’t introduce you because you were off at camp,” Jake argued, biting back a groan as he stretched back to his full height. “And I’ll admit that I should’ve told her that you’re twins, but at the time, I thought you didn’t know about each other.”

“So, you kept Abby a secret from me, and I kept my feelings about Savannah a secret from you,” Charlie grinned slyly. “Sounds like we both did the wrong thing, old man.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Maybe…but I’m the adult here. Which means I’m the one who gets to dole out any punishment for unnecessary pranks pulled on the trail ride.”

Charlie gulped. “You’re not going to make Mom and Abby go home early are you?”

Jake’s eyes softened. “I would never do that, Charlie-girl. But you and your sister are going to be doing extra chores around here. You’re going to have to muck out all the stalls in the morning, feed the horses, and polish the tack.”

Abby and Charlie grinned at each other. “Is that it?”

“Restricted phone time,” Buttercup shot them a stern look. “You can have your phones for an hour in the morning and an hour at night. But that’s it. I have no doubt you used your phones to help coordinate these schemes of yours, so this is just a natural consequence.”

“Can Abby still sleep in my room?”

Jake met Buttercup’s eyes and nodded. “We’re okay with that.”

“And we can still go to Uncle Javy’s football game?”

Buttercup grinned at Jake and rolled her eyes fondly. “I suppose that’s alright.”

The girls cheered and hugged each other. “We’re okay with that!”

They grabbed their backpacks and ran into the house, chattering away, and Buttercup sighed before following along behind them.

“Not so fast.”

She blinked and turned to him. “What did I do?”

Jake folded his arms across his broad chest and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You know what you did.”

Buttercup’s hands met her hips as she shifted her weight to jut a hip out. “Do I?”

Jake rolled his eyes as a smile played on his lips. “What exactly did Savannah say to you to make you bail on the trail ride? I know you. Spending time with Abby, getting to know Charlie, the opportunity to see me potentially make an ass of myself? You were ready and willing to go on the ride until I went outside to get the horses ready. So, what did my ex-fiancée say to my ex-wife to scare her off the ride?”

Buttercup scoffed. “I wasn’t scared. I figured it was a good opportunity for the girls to get to know their stepmother.”

“And if their stepmother got the chance to get to know them, and didn’t like what she saw?” Jake’s grin was sharp with challenge.

“Then that would be her loss, just like you said.” Buttercup tossed her hair over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows at him. “I don’t know what you’re implying here, Hangman.”

Jake’s answering chuckle sent a small thrill through her. “I’m implying that I spent three months with Savannah, and the only way she would get near a horse would be if there was a risk of her losing face. And the only person who would be willing to put her in that situation is you. But you wouldn’t do that without reason, so c’mon, darlin’. Out with it.”

Buttercup sighed lightly. “She asked me to write her wedding vows for her. Her vows to you.” She could’ve giggled at the way Jake’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but the whole situation had left her with an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. “It was a power play, plain and simple. So, yeah. Maybe I got the feeling that the girls didn’t like her and would probably make her life hell on the ride, so I might have suggested to Savannah that she should go on the ride because it would make you happy and she would be able to bond with the girls.”

Jake chuckled in spite of himself. “You’re just as diabolical as they are, you know.”

Buttercup shrugged delicately. “They had to get it from somewhere. Too bad for you, I’m an adult too and you can’t dole out any punishment to me.”

Jake shifted on his feet, his quiet chuckle sending tingles through her body as the air around them spiked with…something.

“Not like I haven’t before,” he breathed, mostly to himself.

Buttercup folded her arms across her chest, almost as though she were afraid that her heart would beat right out of her chest. The memories of them, the things they had done together, surged through her brain, her bloodstream, lighting her up like a firefly. But he was still Jake, and any fire between her and Jake had been doused a long time ago, and it had to stay that way. For the good of everyone involved.

“Um,” she swallowed. “Rooster made chili. He said it was some sort of post-trail ride tradition. We were just setting the table when we heard the commotion.”

Jake nodded and patted Firewall’s flank. “Let me just take care of these guys, and I’ll be right in. Make sure you save me a bowl, alright? Charlie would eat the entire pot if we let her.”

Jake groaned as he pushed his bowl away.

“That was your best batch yet, Uncle Roo,” Charlie grinned a sleepy smile, inching towards food coma territory.

“I’m still pissed you couldn’t cook like this when we lived together,” Natasha grumbled, though the smile on her face stole any bite the words might have held.

Bob nodded in agreement. “The whole squadron would be shocked that Mr. Ramen and Burnt Toast has a degree from culinary school.”

Rooster grunted at them. “I only burnt my toast once. You two just won’t let me forget it.”

“More than once,” Javy grinned at him, leaning back in his chair, and Jake smiled. It seemed like, for tonight at least, Javy and Nat had called a truce. They hadn’t glared or shot thinly veiled remarks at each other all night. Of course, they hadn’t spoken or looked at each other either, but Jake found himself grateful for the lack of anything between them.

“Alright, well maybe I should prove my badass kitchen skills then, huh?” Rooster leaned forward, a smirk tugging on his lips. “I think it’s high time for a Daggers Reunion. What do you say? We can celebrate the fact that Jake isn’t gonna marry that absolute pain in the ass he called a fiancée.”

“Rooster!” Buttercup looked shocked. “I know you didn’t like her, but Jake wouldn’t have asked her to marry him if he didn’t have feelings for her.”

Javy scoffed. “More like feelings about his future. Your boy here didn’t want to have an empty nest when Charlie grows up, so he was gonna—ow, shit!” Javy winced as Jake’s foot connected with his knee. “Dude, what the hell?”

Buttercup felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “It’s alright, Jake. I get it. They’re almost 12. In six years or so, they’ll be off and we’ll be left on our own. I don’t know what the future holds for me either, and it’s a scary thought.”

“Don’t worry, Mum,” Abby yawned, leaning against her sister. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Buttercup grinned. “Thank you, baby. But I do think maybe you two should go upstairs to bed. You’ve had a busy day.”

Abby nodded and tugged Charlie off her chair before hugging her mother, then her father.

Charlie followed suit but stilled at the landing of the staircase. “I like Uncle Roo’s idea. A Dagger’s reunion sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Alright, kiddo. We’ll see if we can make it happen,” Jake smiled softly at the girls as they ascended the staircase.

“Can we also go out to dinner tomorrow?” Abby paused a few steps from the top. “Just the four of us? As a family?”

Jake nodded. “Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”

“Okay. Night, Dad. Night, Mum. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” their parents chorused.

“Dude, you’re such a softie now,” Natasha smirked at him over the lip of her wine glass. “They just cost you your fiancée, Bagman. And you’re letting them call the shots.”

Jake fixed her with a look. “I’m not soft, Phoenix.” He grinned. “In fact, everyone else on this ranch have been pulling their weight, except you two. So, I’d really appreciate it if you and Baby On Board would do the dishes while Javy and I go make sure everything is locked up tight.”

Natasha gaped at him. “What about Buttercup? Or Rooster?”

“Rooster cooked,” Jake shrugged. “And Buttercup’s been working on her novel. What have you and Bob been up to? Other than drinking my wine, eating my food, and eating up my Wi-Fi?” Natasha glared and he grinned. “Enjoy. C’mon, Javy.”

The two men rose from their seats and left the room, clearly headed to make sure the ranch was locked up for the night. Rooster rose with a groan and mumbled something about watching the football game in his room, leaving after patting Buttercup on the head.

Natasha looked around at all the dirty dishes and grumbled. “Your husband is such an asshole.”

“Ex,” Buttercup clarified quietly, running her finger over the lip of her glass. “Besides, you shouldn’t have shot your mouth off with the softie comment. You had to have known he’d retaliate.”

“Yeah, but did he have to bring me into it?” Bob sighed, already gathering dishes and taking them into the kitchen.

Buttercup giggled as her family disappeared into the kitchen, the soft sounds of their bickering carrying through the archway as she stared at the darkened front door, waiting for Jake to return.

The next day passed smoothly, and the four occupants of the main house (plus the grumpy uncle living in the attic) fell into a rhythm of sorts. Jake and the girls were out of the house by the time Buttercup woke up, jetlag and a sleepless night weighing on her mind. However, she found a breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal and fruit salad waiting for her on the stove and a box of her favourite tea sitting next to the kettle. Buttercup settled into the desk in her bedroom and cranked out a few more pages of her book, the characters finally deciding to play along and follow the plot, though the plot wasn’t turning out exactly the way she had imagined it. By the time noon came around, she had wandered down into the kitchen, where she helped Rooster prepare barbecue chicken Ceasar wraps for everyone before going out into the ranch and calling her family home to eat. After their meal, Jake stole them all away to the local high school, where he assisted Javy with coaching their football team. Even when they had been together, Buttercup hadn’t been much of a football fan, but she found herself enjoying the time spent in the bleachers, especially when Jake would demonstrate a play for the rookie quarterback (though she would deny that last part to the ends of the earth and back).

By the time they got back to the ranch, the girls were hustling their parents into their bedrooms to change for their family dinner.

“Babe, we didn’t even make a reservation,” Buttercup sighed as Abby shoved her make up bag into her hands and pushed her towards the ensuite bathroom.

“Any place that would dress code me for not wearing a suit would be booked up months in advance, kiddo,” Jake protested as Charlie tossed his navy-blue suit onto his bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” both girls had reassured their parents. “Our aunt and uncles took care of everything.”

The statement had been less than reassuring, but both parents were determined to play ball. Buttercup had conceded to wearing her aqua coloured midi dress (a dress Charlie had insisted she pack once she had seen it in her mother’s closet back in London) and had even put on the diamond necklace that had been a joint Christmas present from her family last year. Jake had begrudgingly put on his navy suit and the silver and blue aviator watch he had bought on a whim a few years back. The girls had dressed up in matching black dresses (no doubt a gift from their Uncle Bob) and ushered them out of the house before they could say goodbye to Bob, Rooster or Natasha. 

“Alright, ladies,” Jake grinned, spinning his car keys around his finger. “Ready to tell me exactly where we’re going?” He started as Charlie clamped onto his wrist, dragging him down the dirt path towards the dude ranch.

“Right this way, old man.”

Jake craned his neck back just in time to see Abby take a much gentler grip on her mother’s arm, steadying her as the heels of her shoes sunk into the dirt.

“Charlie, your mother is going to break her neck out here without much light.” In truth, the sun would be going down in a few hours, but the way it hung low in the sky had shadows painting the path in darkness. Charlie blinked up at him, a challenge gleaming there, and Jake sighed. “Let me go, kid.”

He shook off his daughter’s grip and strode backwards until he could offer Buttercup his elbow. “C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured. “Can’t have you breaking an ankle out here. Don’t want a lawsuit on my hands.”

Buttercup chuckled as she wrapped her arm around his. “Thank you…” she whispered as Abby pranced up the path to join her sister. “Honestly, I don’t know how they come up with so many harebrained schemes.”

“You think they’re scheming?”

She shot Jake a knowing look. “Do you know any family friendly restaurants where the diners dress up like this?” She gestured to their semi-formal clothing. “And if you do know any, are any of them located down this dirt path?”

Jake nodded his head towards her, conceding her point. “They’re your daughters, alright.”

She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “I’m not the scheming parent, thank you very much.”

“Seriously? Wasn’t eloping in Vegas your idea?”

She bit her lip to hide her grin. “That wasn’t a scheme. That was taking advantage of the air show in Vegas and the fact that everyone we loved was there. Besides, that didn’t run the risk of potential bodily harm.”

Jake shook off the zing of pain that ran through him at the memory and forced the smile to remain on his face. “Maybe for you, but I have only the haziest memory of the morning after our wedding. Rooster and Fanboy kept pouring marga-beers down my throat even though you told them to stop.”

Buttercup giggled, and something warm flared in Jake’s chest. “Maybe they get it from them then. Rooster, Javy, and Natasha are all pretty heavy handed with the schemes, aren’t they?”

“Oh, more than you know,” Jake laughed as they approached the gazebo that overlooked the manmade pond. They’d put both features in a few years previous, trying to make the dude ranch more attractive for people who wanted more of a vacation than a chance to prove themselves on a ranch.

“Girls?” Buttercup called as they jumped up onto the gazebo before ducking out of sight. Within seconds, the whole structure was lit up, the tiny fairy lights glittering off the water.

“Speaking of schemes…” Jake muttered, guiding Buttercup over the rocky terrain and up onto the gazebo.

In the center, a small, round table for two sat invitingly, a vase of fresh wildflowers pushed to one side to make room for the plates, cutlery, and linen napkins that waited to be used.

“Hoo boy,” Buttercup whispered as he pulled out one of the wrought iron chairs and helped her sit comfortably.

“Girls, what are you doing?” Jake turned to find them standing by the stairs of the gazebo.

“We…wanted to thank you!” Charlie grinned. “Y’know, for being so nice about us switching places.”

“And blackmailing you,” Abby added.

“And blackmailing you,” Charlie nodded her agreement. “Oh! And we wanted to apologize for chasing off Savannah.”

“And you decided that a romantic dinner for two was the best way to do that?” Buttercup’s face was filled with such bemusement that Jake had to laugh.

“Well, if you’re going to coparent, you need to be able to get along,” Abby chirped cheerfully. “Consider this our way of trying to make that happen!”

“We’re going to leave you to eat,” Charlie grinned. “I really hope you can make it through a simple dinner without arguing. That would bode really well for all of us.”

Jake groaned as the girls skipped away, then groaned again when a shadowy figure stepped into the gazebo, carrying two serving trays.

“Hey man, don’t groan at me. Those two little demons are your spawn,” Javy muttered as he set the two trays of food on the table. “They’re better at finding information and using it to their advantage than the freakin’ Navy.”

Natasha scoffed as she stepped up beside Javy, brandishing a bottle of wine in each hand. “If they weren’t so damn cute, I’d want to kill them.”

Buttercup blinked at them. “You got sucked into another one of their schemes?”

Natasha shrugged. “Apparently, I need to watch what I say when Abby and I are watching trashy TV and eating junk food. The kid’s got Fort Knox as a memory. Don’t know what his excuse is though,” she added, jerking her head at Javy. “Now, do you want red or white? Because Rooster said either will work with the food, but Abby will throw a hissy fit if I don’t play along.”

“They got Bradshaw into this too?” Jake turned to Javy, who shrugged.

“You two somehow managed to raise two extremely intelligent blackmailers, with zero input from the other person and an ocean between you. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t kinda terrifying.” Javy sighed. “Natasha and I will be watching from the cabin. Buttercup, as much as you may want to, please don’t drown him in the lake.”

Buttercup stifled a giggle as their friends strolled away. “Well, at least they’re not arguing anymore,” she mused before lifting the lid off her meal and smiling. “Penne a la vodka with a side salad. How did they know?”

Jake gulped and hoped the dim lighting did enough to hide the redness in his cheeks. They had gone for Italian food for their first date, and that’s what they had both ordered. Buttercup because it was her favourite, and Jake because he’d been so taken with her that he had just said “Same” so that they could get back to their conversation without the waiter being present.

“I might’ve mentioned it once, I guess,” he murmured, taking the lid off his dish and picking up his fork.

“Should we toast or something?”

Jake smiled softly and picked up his glass of red wine. “To…fresh starts?”

Buttercup smiled so sweetly at him that his chest ached with it. “Yeah, fresh starts sound good.”

Buttercup couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard. Her sides ached and her cheeks hurt and she desperately hoped that she had put on waterproof mascara because, otherwise, she would have racoon eyes from the tears of laughter she had shed.

She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t real. This was the part of her relationship with Jake that had been easy. Falling in love with him had been as easy as breathing. He could make her laugh until she cried, and he would hold her while she cried until he could make her laugh. He made her want to pull her hair out, but one look at those bright green eyes and that sinful smile, and she would forget all about why he frustrated her. She always counted herself lucky that he was there to frustrate her. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that she would rather run the gamut of emotions with Jake Seresin than risk not feeling anything so strongly with another person.

Loving him was easy. Making it work with him was another story. And now, they had two young daughters who were depending on them. She wasn’t about to risk letting them down again. Still, she found she couldn’t quite keep her guard all the way up around him.

“…and that is why I will never take Charlie to another baseball game,” Jake finished his story to Buttercup’s peals of laughter.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you two,” she giggled breathlessly.

“Hey, she’s half you. She doesn’t get those nerves of steel from me.”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Oh please. How many confirmed air-to-air kills do you have under your belt?”

“Hey! That’s totally different. Having nerves of steel in the air while facing down enemy aircraft is completely different from having your six-year-old daughter try to beat the shit out of the opposing team’s mascot because it kinda looked like a monster from her nightmare.”

Buttercup snorted. “I don’t know about that. Sounds like you were both protecting yourselves with those nerves of steel.”

“You were too,” Jake said quietly, taking a sip of his wine.

“When?”

“When you left…” Buttercup froze, and Jake almost regretted saying anything. Almost. “It took guts to leave. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but you were doing what was right for you.”

“I…” Buttercup took a fortifying sip of wine. “I hope you know I didn’t leave just because of you. I mean, I hope you know that I didn’t leave to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Emboldened by the wine, Jake reached out and took her hand. “C’mon, darlin’. Of course I know that. I know you never wanted to hurt me, and I know it felt like you were ripping your own heart out to leave Charlie behind.” He gave her hand a firm squeeze and something squeezed in his heart when she returned the gesture.

“I wish the pandemic had never happened,” Buttercup sighed. “It would’ve been so much easier to keep to the custody schedule if air travel hadn’t become so dangerous.”

Jake nodded. “I wish the court lady hadn’t transcribed our phone numbers wrong.”

Jake had called his lawyer earlier in the day and found that both of their numbers had been written wrong in the paperwork. It had happened to a few other clients, and that’s how they had come to realize that the court stenographer had been drinking on the job.

Buttercup scoffed. “Yeah…the odds were stacked against us at every turn.”

“You really think so?”

Buttercup blinked at him. “You don’t think so? Your deployments, my diagnosis, the pandemic, the clerical error? You don’t think that was fate stamping a big red X on our family?”

Jake leaned forward, close enough to her that she could smell the sharp tang of his cologne and the deep woodsy undertones that were pure Jake. “I think we had a hell of a lot going for us but neither of us knew how to handle the bumps in the road and we fell apart. Tell me, Buttercup. If we knew then what we know now, would we have made it?”

The question made her pause, made everything inside of her freeze. If her past self had all of her present knowledge, would they have made it? Would they have been able to dig through the tunnel of bullshit and make it out clean on the other side? She could imagine it. The open communication, the therapy, the fights they’d have, but together, not against each other.

She shivered at that imaging and met his green gaze. “I’m getting cold,” she whispered. “I think it’s time we go inside.”

Jake sighed but nodded, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

Knowing that Javy and Nat were on dish duty, he offered Buttercup his elbow and slowly guided her down the path, the silvery light of the moon illuminating mere feet in front of them. She leaned against him more now than she had when they had initially walked the path, but Jake knew that was the jetlag and wine working against her.

“We’ll have to thank Rooster for dinner,” she mumbled as they strolled. “That was probably the best penne I’ve had since—shit!” Her heel caught on a rock in the path and she pitched forward. Quick as a flash of lightning, Jake had her secure against him, one arm wrapped around her waist and one pressing between her shoulder blades.

“I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he murmured into her hair, only realizing how close they were when the scent of Hawaiian orchid wafted over him.

“S-sorry,” she whispered, leaning into his chest more as she steadied herself. She looked up and met his gaze, their noses almost brushing. All it would take was a tilt of her head, and they would be—

Buttercup abruptly pulled away from him, leaning down to take off her shoes and dangling them between her fingers.

“Sorry,” she murmured again. “I didn’t mean to…I can’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake’s hand warmed the middle of her back. “No harm done, right?”

Buttercup gulped back the knot in her throat as she nodded. “Yeah…no harm done.”

Tags List: @jessicab1991

@waltermis

@buckysteveloki-me

@allepaula

@yuckosworld

@bradshawssugarbaby

@ahopelessromanticwritersworld

@kim-stark

@high-speed-r

@starsrfun

@tomanyfandomstrash

@averyhotchner

@the-blueatlas

@dashes-dizzydisaster

@a-girl-who-loves-disney

@boiolay

@djs8891

@tgmreader

@kmc1989

@landpiranha-blog

@sydthekid1518

@lynnevanss

@mackenzieblair

@minejungwoo

@starset21

@tgmavericklover

@dempy

@lovemarvelousfics

@starkleila

@magical-spit

@whatislovevavy

@simplyreading96

@vivalas-vega

@itsdesiree86

@inky-sun

@books-are-escapes

@abaker74

@devil-angel-winchester

@mrs-perfectly-fine

@inthestars-underthesun

@smoothdogsgirl

[marsdreamworld]

How Sweet It is to be Loved by You - LN4 x reader:

Mars’ Notes: I’ve never ever written anything like this before, but after rambling at @love-belle for a stupid amount of time, i thought why not? surprised it ended up being for lando and not charles but if this goes well i might j start writing a bit more!! anyways, i’m excited, please lmk what you think <333

Warnings: None!! super super fluffy :)

Description: Lando comes home to you, and everything is ok again.

————————————————————

Lando was exhausted. He loved his job, the roaring of engines, the loud shouts that always seemed to accompany the mechanics as they made any pre-race adjustments to his Mclaren, the screams of fans in the grandstands and during fan stages, but god, sometimes all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around your waist, bury his face in your neck and never leave. You were his peace, his moment of quiet in an otherwise hectic day. He missed you, and you were his rock during race weekends. He had spent the last week wishing you were with him and cheering him on from your spot in the garage.

“Lando? You ok, mate?”

Danny���s voice broke him out of his stupor, bringing his mind back to the private jet he was currently sat in, accompanied by the older driver. Just three more hours, and you can hug her all you want, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, fine, mate. Just wondering what’s for dinner.” he said, a smile on his face.

“If you say so” comes the reply, accompanied by a bright, dimpled smile.

————————————

After a hectic run through security and the throng of fans that were waiting diligently for him at the gate, Lando had finally made it home, his hands trembling at the prospect of finally kissing you again as he pushed his key into the lock of your shared flat.

“Lando? Is that you, my love?”

Your voice floated through the hallway, and he visibly relaxed - he was finally home, he was finally with you, and there was nowhere he’d rather be.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me. Were you hoping for someone else?” he teased, seeing you emerge from your bedroom, clad only in one of his favourite Quadrant hoodies, and fluffy socks, your hair falling around your face in messy waves, silver wire-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of your nose. You padded over, soft footfalls echoing, until you were stood in front of him.

“Oh shush and hug me, you muppet.”

He closed the gap between you, and wrapped his arms around your waist, melting into you.

“God, I missed you”, he said, his voice muffled by your neck. You giggled and reached up to hug him back, carding your hands through his hair and leaving sweet kisses wherever you could reach.

“I missed you more, love. Would you mind helping me with something quickly?”, you mumbled into his hair, “I know you’re tired, and it’s been a long day, I just think my brain’s gone to mush and I can barely read what I’m writing.”

He lifted his head, and simply smiled at you, brushing his thumb against your cheek, “That’s what I’m here for, remember? Moral support and grammar police” he said, winking at you in an effort to make you laugh. You looked stressed, and he could tell you had been working away at your essay for far too long already, the pressure weighing heavily on your shoulders. “I’m assuming it’s another essay for class?”

“Mhmm, the professor decided it would be a good time to assign a stupid essay two weeks before midterms.” Your eye roll and answering nod was all it took for Lando to toe his shoes off, leaving his bags and coat by the door before he dragged you back into the bedroom, dramatically flipping into the double bed that occupied the corner, landing amongst the multitude of stuffed toys that had migrated to his side of the bed in the short time he was away.

“Right then, Ms. L/N, get your pretty arse over here and read me this essay.” he said, posing and putting on his best posh British accent, earning a laugh out of you. This was what Lando lived for, these quiet moments of domesticity where all he could hear was your laugh and he could revel in the fact that it was him, him who made you laugh and him who had the pleasure of hearing it.

You grabbed your notebook from the desk you had set up opposite the bed, claiming that you worked better when you knew Lando was close to you, and walked over to the bed, climbing in and placing his head in your lap.

A reporter had once asked him a question along the lines of “If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?” He had, of course, answered with the typical “on a race track”, the answer that wouldn’t have the Mclaren PR team screaming at him post press conference, but if he really had to pick, he would say with you. Anywhere with you was where he wanted to be, but he felt so at peace here, in your bedroom, with his head on your lap and your hand in his hair, your voice soft and sweet as you read him the opening paragraphs of your midterm essay.

Lando nuzzled further into your thighs, your nails now scratching across his scalp in a way that made him feel boneless. He could feel his eyes slowly slipping closed, the warmth and comfort lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

———————-

You were three paragraphs in when you stumbled on your words, struggling to understand a sentence you’d written.

“See, that’s the sentence I really don’t get. It just sounds so chunky and I really have no idea how to make it flow more, you know? I know it needs to be technical, it is an engineering essay after all, but it just sounds so hard to read and I don’t know how to make it sound better.”

You waited for Lando to tell you that you’d made a silly grammar mistake, or that you just had to split the sentence in two to make it more digestible, but you were met with silence. Looking down at your lap, you saw Lando asleep, smile painted on his face, a hand placed on your thigh, grip tight as though he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t move.

Lando had come into your life in the most unexpected way you could have imagined - cliché, but unexpected. You’d been waiting in line at a coffee shop, needing your daily dose of caffeine before your 9AM university lecture, and he had walked straight into you, a steaming hot Americano cradled in his hands, which had eventually made quick work of staining the cream bodysuit you had chosen for the day. He’d apologised countless times, turning back to grab a stack of tissues, even going so far as to attempt to rub the stain off, but had only succeeded in making it worse. You’d simply laughed, and told him that he really should go order another coffee, before the morning rush took over. He’d stared at you, open mouthed and speechless, before stammering through an affirmative and walking away. The next 5 minutes were spent throwing glances at each other through the crowd of people occupying the store, before he broke and asked for your number, stating that he at least owed you a new shirt, and perhaps even a date? It had been natural, and felt right from the moment he picked you up at 8 the following Friday, dressed in a suit and armed with roses.

You took one last look at the essay in your hands, and made the incredibly easy decision to call it a day. You placed the stack of papers on the bedside table, shifting in order to reach, only to have Lando grip onto you tighter, a mumble of “stay” escaping his pouted lips. Your heart clenched, and you couldn’t help but coo back that you weren’t going anywhere, my love, go back to sleep. You cleared as much of the bed as you could without disturbing your boy, and leaned back into the pillows you’d stacked behind you earlier in the day, Lando nuzzling further into your stomach, whining until you bring your hand back to his curls. As you shift, Lando reaches out to wind his hands around your waist, pulling you closer even in his sleep. You smile to yourself, and turn the small lamp on the side table off - your boy was home, and everything was alright.

[mickandmusings]

iv. so high school

part of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: With Honey and Jake's senior year coming to a quick end, Honey is more than thrilled to dream about her upcoming days in the Austin sun as a future UT student. Blindly, and perhaps naively, she assumes Jake will be at her side for another four years. Jake has a secret he's refused to tell her, and the weight of it threatens to collapse his chest. He knows it's the right decision, but he can't help but think of the hurt it will cause the girl he loves.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: fluffy->angsty, building up to some major angst, folks, buckle up, also two posts in one week is crazy, just let me be mentally ill thanks <3

-

'And there he goes! #86, Senior Jake Seresin catches the ball from #19, Senior Ethan Williams, and runs towards the end zone for the touchdown and...it is good! That's a win for the Haven High Bobcats! The Blue and Gold Nation is officially in the playoffs!'

The crowd roars in Honey's ears as she jumps up and claps in elation at Jake's score-saving play. Haven had been behind by just a handful of points, and he'd won the game just before the buzzer sounded for the end of the fourth quarter. She smiled as she watched his teammates pummel over him, lifting him above their heads as he slings off his helmet, sweaty blonde hair shining under stadium lights. His Hollywood smile is blinding, and although she can't hear it, she can see him laugh.

Honey turns to Janet and Jacob Sr. moving next to her, both of them picking up their stadium seats and filing out of their row in the bleachers. Honey picks up Jake's football sweatshirt and slings it over her shoulders. She sported a solid navy long-sleeve under Jake's spare gold jersey she wore, but Jake had insisted she bring another layer. He had been right, of course, she had shivered through the first half of the game, but after halftime, she had broken into a sweat cheering Jake on. She trailed behind Janet, making their way back to the parking lot to meet up with her small-town football star boyfriend. Honey chatted pleasantly with Janet and Jacob Sr. as she stood next to their truck, telling them about she and Jake's after-game plans. They had decided on their usual post-game dinner at The Basket, then they'd slip off into one of the empty pastures far from the farmhouse and simply enjoy some alone time, not that the grandparents needed to know that detail. She waved them goodbye when they parted to their truck, and Honey walked across the parking lot to Jake’s truck. She leaned against the side of it, waiting for him to arrive. She didn’t bother to pay attention to the stares in her direction or the whispers filling the air, Jake was the senior football star hanging out with her, so she’d expected the push back.

She heard him before she saw him, his hearty laugh filling the air. He’s fist-bumping and bro-hugging his teammates before he makes his way over to her. His smile widens, throwing down his duffel at her feet and lifting her up off the ground, kissing her lips. Honey's own smile appears, lightly chastising him to put her down. When he does, he notes her appearance, fondly looking at his own numbers across her torso, but concerned she’d be freezing.

"I told you to wear that sweatshirt, not tie it 'round your waist. You're gonna end up with a head cold and you're gonna be all mopey and miserable."

Honey gave him a pointed look.

"Okay, Dad, cool your jets. I'll put it on when we get to the truck."

He opens her door and she slides in, and he opens the back door to throw his duffel bag on the floorboard. Honey waits for him to slide around to his spot at the front, but a voice calls out his name.

"Hey, Seresin! You comin' out tonight, man? Everyone's coming down to my place, gonna have a bonfire."

Ethan Williams' voice calls after him. Honey listens in as they speak, her eyes cutting awkwardly to her hands, fiddling with the hem of the jersey she's wearing. Truthfully, all Honey wanted to do was grab their dinner, go back home and plop into Jake's bed, and sleep until noon the next day. She understood why Jake would want to go, Ethan was captain of the football team, quarterback, and Jake's friend. It was their senior year, the last chance to soak up any childish memories before their impending adulthood. Jake was funny, the life of any party, but Honey was still learning to adapt to that sort of environment. Jake cut his green eyes to look at Honey, raising an eyebrow as if to ask what she wanted to do. Honey nodded slowly, a forced smile plastered across her face. Honey hated parties, especially ones like these, where almost everyone in attendance was friends with one another, while she was just there by association. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, it’d be fine, she’d go along with Jake for a few hours, let him laugh and mingle, and then they’d go back home. There she would have him to herself.

“Yeah, follow you there?” Jake replied back quickly. Ethan nods and walks toward his own truck. Jake quickly slings into the driver’s side of the truck, cranking it, and waiting for Ethan to roll out.

“Honey, you say the word and I’m blowing this party, I know-“

“No, no,” her voice is confident, at least to her. “These are your friends, and you just took us to the playoffs, Jake. You should celebrate, you deserve it.”

He gives her a wide grin, one that makes her heart swell with ridiculous adoration for the boy across from her.

-

A few hours later, Honey finds herself sitting on a bale of hay a few yards away from the bonfire, nursing a beer she hadn’t taken more than two sips of. She didn’t care for the taste of beer to begin with, often starting one and letting Jake finish it, but this one tasted particularly sour. It likely had nothing to do with the beer at all, her attitude had been sour for the past hour or so, and she was more than ready to go home. She had sat and listened to the other player's girlfriends gossip amongst themselves-who was sleeping with who, who cheated on who-typical high school gossip. She had tuned them out mostly, her eyes following Jake as he laughed with his friends. His eyes would meet hers occasionally, checking on her without having to say a word. She wasn't sour at him for having fun, she had wanted him to have this, childish teenage memories to look back on ten years from now. It wasn't his fault she wasn't having fun, it was hers, she should've tried to talk to other people in school these past four years. She remained relatively uninterested in their blabber, but when she heard something that perked her ears, she simply couldn't stop listening in.

“I know you all saw those scouts tonight, they were hard to miss in that bright orange.”

“Of course I did, they’re always at Haven games when the season is good. The question is, who are they scoutin'? Ethan has already announced he’s going to A&M, they’re not there for him.”

“They’re at the games for Jake Seresin, duh! He hasn’t accepted a scholarship anywhere, it’s got to be him. None of the other guys are good enough, my own boyfriend included.”

“Well there’s only one person who would know his plans, you just have to ask her,” Brett’s girlfriend Haley spoke. She was turning to Honey, her pale blue eyes kind. “Hey, Honey, why don’t you come sit over here with us?”

Honey stilled, the condensation on her beer can making her hands cold. Haley had always been kind to her, their boyfriends were close friends, Brett was one of Jake's few friends that spoke to her, and it made for easy camaraderie. Before she could overthink it, her feet carried her over to the group of girls, sinking onto a hay bale next to Haley.

“So, Honey,” Sarah Grace, Ethan’s girlfriend, started. “Where does Jake plan on signing to?”

Honey’s mouth felt as if she’d been eating cotton, her eyes wide. She, truthfully, had no idea. It wasn’t something Jake had ever talked to her about. She’d assumed he would go to UT Austin, it was his preferred team, and it wasn’t too far from Haven. It was Honey’s future school, hopefully, because she’d follow him anywhere.

“Um,” she started. “I don’t really know, but if I had to guess, probably UT Austin. I mean, he’s been a Longhorns fan since before I knew him, and that’s where I’ve sent my early decision application, so..." She ends her statement with a shrug. She feels like everyone’s eyes are on her, feeling a blush forming at the unusual attention.

“No matter where he goes, he’ll be a star, so it’s a win-win for you either way.” Haley smiles encouragingly, now turning her full attention to Honey. “On a more important topic, have you picked out your color for prom? Because Brett and I are doing pink, which he hates, but I’ve had my heart on this dress since freshman year so-“

Honey listens to Haley, but her mind is far from prom and dress colors. How was it this far into their senior year and she had yet to talk about college plans with Jake? She had just assumed they’d go to UT Austin together, but maybe she’d read it all wrong. What if he didn’t want her to follow him?

“-so you should come with us, we’re all going together, it would be fun, having another girl around.”

Honey’s eyes widened, realizing Haley was inviting her to come prom dress shopping. Her eyes widened, she’d never been invited anywhere, not sincerely at least.

“Um, yeah, that sounds great. I-I’ll be there.”

Haley lets out a squeal of excitement as she smiles, making Honey smile too. She’d spent the rest of her night engaged in conversation with the other football girlfriends, finding herself laughing as the girls welcomed her warmly. Jake watched from afar, smiling to himself as he watched Honey's body language begin to settle in the small group of girls. He gave her space to socialize amongst them, proud of her for stepping even a foot out of her comfort zone. He finds her a few hours later, bidding the other girls a swift farewell before sweetly grabbing her hand and whisking her away back to the truck, back home. As the pair walked away into the distance, the girls began a new discussion.

“So, who wants to bet on how long those two have been more than friends?” Sarah Grace starts, her eyes still on the couple fading into the distance.

“Jake Seresin and her? Listen, she’s a sweet girl but they’re polar opposites. No way they've got somethin' going on. They’re nothing but friends.”

“Bullshit, she’s worn his jersey every single game, and he’s always got his arm around her. And those eyes he gives her? No way they’re not at least fooling around.” Ethan's girlfriend pipes up.

“Rumor has it she lives with the Seresin’s cause her mom’s a deadbeat. I mean they share a bed and everything, I bet they fuck like rabbits. We all know how well-off the Seresin's are, not to mention the influence that comes along with it, what if she's like, baby trapping him or something? I'm calling it now, she'll be pregnant before prom."

“You’re all wrong,” Haley finally piped up, shaking her head at the ignorant girl's statement. “Those two have been dating since sophomore year, are you truly that blind? For God's sake, have you ever seen Jake let anyone else borrow his clothes like that? Fuck no. Not to mention his obsession with touching her every time she's in his vicinity-they hold hands, she'll intertwine her arm around his, sleep on his shoulder-they're not hiding it. You just didn't notice it because you don't think someone shy like Honey could pull a ladies man like Jake Seresin. You should’ve seen them at Brett’s New Year’s Eve party last year, I swear Jake wasn’t going to let her breathe he kissed her so hard. Those two are in love, crazy about each other, but Jake is…not like other guys. He'd never let something like that happen to Honey. He isn't the idea you have in your head, at least not with her."

-

Jake cranks the truck and swings his arm around the headrest, his head peering out the back glass to back out. His hand lands on Honey’s thigh when he finally gets on the road. It's routine, his hand always rests against her when they ride together. She made no move to scoot closer, and when Jake looked at her, he expected to see her eyes shutting with sleep, but he instead found them wide awake, eyebrows pinched in thought. He sighs, he should’ve known from her being abnormally quiet when it was just the two of them.

“I can feel you thinking all the way over here. Talk to me. What's the matter, baby?” Jake’s voice is calm, soothing, as his thumb rubs lazy circles on her leg. Honey looks over at him, catches a glimpse of his concerned eyes, and looks back out her window before responding:

“There were scouts there tonight, from UT Austin. Word around the party says they were there to watch you.”

Jake shrugs, confused at where the conversation was heading. “That's a bad thing?”

Honey shakes her head. “No, it’s just, Haley and the other girls were asking if you were hoping to go to UT, and I realized I couldn’t even tell them, because I didn’t know. I-I even put my early decision application there, because I just thought that was where you’d go. It occurred to me I didn't even ask, I just thought we'd go together.”

As Jake processes her statement, he swallows thickly. He knew Honey's college plans, and as much as he'd wanted to follow her, he knew in the depth of his heart he wouldn't be following her to Austin. He had no aspirations for a traditional college route, and had already sent in his application to the Naval Academy. He hadn't told her, he hadn't told anyone, with the exception of their guidance counselor.

“I, um, I’m sendin' my application to UT too, just trying to scope out some other options, ya know? If I get hurt during a game or somethin', I’m over, I’ll lose my scholarship. I-I mean, my grades are there, but they’re not perfect, not like yours. Grandpa Seresin, he went straight to the Naval Academy after high school, paid for everything until he retired to the farm. Danny did too, played football there and everything. I just, need somethin' with some padding like that, just in case, so I’ve been holding out on a definite answer.”

His answer hadn’t been a complete lie, just, not the truth either. Honey nods in understanding, satisfied with his answer for now. Finally, she scoots over in the seat and leans her head on his shoulder, burying her head into the crook of his neck. She’s comfortable, content.

“That's good, just know I’ll follow you anywhere. I couldn’t imagine not having you around for four years, no way I'd survive without you."

Jake gulps, his heart breaking in half in his chest. His mind raced, if he told her the truth, it would kill her. There was no guarantee he'd be accepted into the Academy, but he hadn't even told her that he'd tried for it. He knew he had to tell her, but he kept it to himself for now, trying to enjoy their moments of being seniors together. He leans down and kisses her head, his mind swimming with thoughts of how he would tell her if he got accepted into the Naval Academy. He could already picture her big eyes swimming with tears, the fake smile she’d plaster across her face for his sake, telling him how proud she was, and how she would be hurting on the inside the entire time. He didn’t want that, he couldn’t face that, so, as fall turned to winter and then winter into spring, he’d neglected telling her completely.

-

When her early acceptance to UT Austin came in December, Honey had been all smiles and excited rambles, and that night, as they ate the celebratory dinner Janet made Honey, his stomach turned with guilt. Come the spring, when everyone else was announcing acceptances, he would no longer be able to lie to her, to defer the truth. But he pushed it to the side, letting both himself and Honey focus on all the exciting things that came with the last few months of high school, but they passed quicker than he wanted them to. They’d made it into the playoffs, won a few rounds before their luck run out and the football season was over. Christmas was done and over before he blinked, and his heart all but shattered at Honey’s blinding smile when she opened her very first orange Longhorns sweatshirt of her own-a gift from his grandparents. Honey had let her shoulders fall in happiness, tossing off Jake's Cowboys sweatshirt she was wearing to throw it over her head. She’d cried and squeezed both Janet and Jacob Sr. so tightly, but Jake could not smile, his entire chest was tight with words he couldn’t say. So when he opened an identical box with the same sweatshirt in a bigger size, he had to wipe on a smile and swallow the lump in his throat, because everyone still believed he’d be tagging along with Honey come August, his grandmother included. He had spilled his secret months before to his grandfather, who listened earnestly, but gave him a raised eyebrow look.

"This got anythin' to do with Danny?"

Jake had sighed, choosing not to say anything. Nothing got past his grandfather. His Uncle Danny had served in the Navy his entire life, as long as Jake had been alive. When Uncle Danny hadn't come back from his last post with the Navy, it had sent the entire family into shambles. It wasn't until months later that they'd found out the truth-he'd been shot down and lost his life.

Jacob Sr. had only nodded his head, sort of shocked by Jake's sudden announcement, but not surprised. His grandson had always had a flair for the unexpected.

"He'd be proud of you, kid. Just, the truth is better out than in. I know you haven't told Honey, that sweet girl deserves the truth, Jake. And you better tell ya Granny too, if she finds out from someone other than you, she'll kill you before you even get to Maryland. Believe me, women always find out the truth."

Jake suddenly wished he would've taken that advice sooner.

For the entirety of the next few months, he burned as he listened to Honey talk about them at UT: the apartments they'd move into together, joining him for football games, being his tag-along at parties, and him joining her in the library to help her study. She was so excited, happier than Jake had seen her in, well, ever-she was getting away from everything: her mother who she despised, this small town that felt suffocating at times, the people who talked shit about her, but she’d still have him, the one person she truly loved. She'd make him stop and let her check the mail each day as they came in from school, waiting for an acceptance letter for him that would never come. Honey would give him a sweet smile and assure him it would come sooner or later. He wouldn’t burst that bubble for-he couldn't-at least not yet.

-

As the colder days turned into a particularly hot April, Jake had five weeks before graduation, meaning he had T-minus thirty-five days to tell her. He had prolonged it this far, because after he told her the news, it was likely he’d never see her again. He'd received his Naval Academy acceptance letter two weeks ago, and as proud of himself as he was, he knew the disaster that would lay ahead of him, all at his own hand. He had broken down on the couch the night that Honey was out with Haley and Sarah Grace prom dress shopping, and his grandmother had gotten the truth from him. Janet had wrapped the boy in her arms, the boy who now towered over her, as if he was a toddler again and let him cry, knowing his decision had been made, but it didn't mean it would be easy.

Instead of focusing on the imminent pain, he spent his free time working on the old farm house on the south side of the farm. The house was nice, built years ago for a group of farm hands hired for the summer, but was in desperate need of a deep clean and some minor fixes. He had thought it’d be a great place for Honey and her new friends (Haley and Sarah Grace) to get ready for prom together, and a place he and Honey could decompress afterwards without any prying eyes, or worrying about waking up Janet or Jacob Sr. His grandparents had thought it was a good idea, happy to see Honey bring around more friends than just their grandson. As he scrubbed the floors and moved furniture into the house that week, his mind raced with ideas of how he would tell her, and, more importantly, when. After an internal pep-talk, he decided on telling her after prom, after the last fun before graduation was over. He wanted her to have one good night after her hell of a high school experience, but he needed to get the truth off his chest, and fast.

-

For now, he's wrapping his fist against the wooden door of her bedroom across the hall from his. He stares back at the Dawson's Creek poster plastered across it as he speaks.

“Honey, can I come in?”

“Hold on!” Her voice pipes up, and a shuffling noise is evident behind the door. “Okay! Now you can.”

Jake pushes open the creaky door and notices nothing out of place, which makes him raise a brow.

“What was all that racket about?”

“I had to hide my prom dress, I don’t want you to see it before prom night, it’s supposed to be a surprise! Haley said it was a ‘crime’ to look that good, so I should keep it a surprise from you.”

Jake shakes his head, kissing the top of her head as he pulls her into his arms.

“Well that poses a bit of a problem, darlin’. Don’t know what color tie I need, or what flowers to put on your corsage.”

Honey blushes, forgetting about that.

“For the flowers, do whatever you want, just something pretty, and the tie, black.” She attempts to mask her sly smile.

“Black?” Jake’s green eyes widened, his arms pulling her closer as he looked down at her. The sight of Honey in a black dress would probably kill him on the spot. "Don't think I've ever seen you in a black dress, baby."

Honey smiled as he spoke the nickname that still gave her goosebumps nearly three years later. She shrugs nonchalantly, as if the sudden change was nothing.

"Wanted to switch it up, leave our whole class with the whole 'wallflower is hotter than you think' dramatic exit, like a movie."

Jake chuckles, "You've got to stop watching so many of those cheesy romances. C'mon I got to show you somethin'."

He pulls her forward by the hand as she quickly slides on her sandals at the door. He brings her out the door and pops open the passenger side of his vehicle, helping her in. He slides into his driver's side and backs out, leading to her incoming question.

"Jake, where are we going?"

"That field with the house in the middle."

"Care to tell me why?"

"You'll see, darlin', patience, please."

Honey rolls her eyes at him as she looks out the window at the fields full of animals passing them by, slowly morphing into empty ones. Jake pulls into the driveway of the house, and Honey notes the lights on in the house.

"Did they hire some hands for the summer? You should've told me, I'm not really dressed to meet strangers, Jake."

Jake opens her door, and helps her out.

"Nobody's here but us, Hon. Just c'mon," He leads her through the front door and into the house, and she's immediately in awe of how nice it looks. There's no more layers of dust, or the sort of weird, tangy smell a shut-up house has. She turns to her boyfriend again.

"You did all this? You cleaned this place up?"

He nods, pulling her into him, her back to his chest.

"Thought it would be nice for you and the girls to get ready in, since me, and Brett and Willie and Ethan are getting ready at the house, no way we could share a bathroom with all of us."

"You fixed the bathroom in this place?" Honey's eyes widened, launching from his arms and into the hallway. She opens the door and audibly gasps-he added lighting around the mirrors, something the bathroom was once lacking, giving the perfect spot for them to get ready. "You are somethin' else, Jake Seresin."

She approaches him as he's standing in the door frame, kissing his lips sweetly. When they break apart she catches sight of the open bedroom door, immediately moving to look at it. She pushes the door completely open, finding the once broken headboard fixed, clean sheets, and the curtains are no longer filled with dust. The boy who she had to force to pick up his laundry had vacuumed this house from top to bottom.

"It looks amazing here, J, seriously." Her eyes are round as she looks around.

"I, um, I thought it'd be nice for us to have this place for just us, ya know? For prom obviously, but also if you wanted to come home during school or the summer? Wouldn't have to be cramped up in the house with the old folks."

He didn't have the heart to say he had done it so she would have some space away from the memories of him if she decided to come home. He didn't like imagining her working her ass off for some overpriced apartment during the summers when she could live here. The place wasn't anything fancy, and it's interior was definitely aging, but that was something she could fix, if she wanted. It gave Jake peace of mind to know that even if he wasn't around for her, that she would have somewhere to go, that she would be taken care of. She leans back into his embrace, taking in the house's appearance.

"Hey, J?" Her voice is quiet, but not somber.

"Yeah, baby?" He replies, his chin falling to her shoulder, planting a chaste kiss on her temple before he rests there.

"Do you think, someday-, maybe-, maybe s-someday we'd fix this place up together? It could be ours? I mean, it's perfect, a decent size house on a big patch of land. We could make it our own."

Jake's heart sinks to his feet, feeling like he might hurl with the amount of guilt swirling in his stomach. Her eyes are so wide, full of hope, and she gives him that smile, the one that's so rare it's practically reserved for him alone. He swallows down the round of tears threatening to choke him, and gives her a smile of his own.

"Someday, I'll give you the house of your dreams, baby. I'll give you whatever you want, if you'll let me."

-

taglist:

@djs8891

@unattainablesillygoose

@psuedochakra

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

-

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ minors skiddaddle pls

Chapter 009: Nina

There’s a new girl at Hellfire and Eddie is seemingly wrapped around her finger. Meanwhile, Max makes a shocking new discovery…

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 3.8k words

disclaimers & warnings — ⚠️ this is a verrrryy emotionally intense chapter. pls read at your discretion ; generational curses, physical altercations, profanities, throwing objects, heated arguments, implications of suspected grooming, shy girl being delulu, lmk if anything else

“Shouldn't have to listen to the shit you say.”

♡

"C’mon... COME ON!" Dustin roars in frustration. "What starts with a T and ends with a C?"

Slow Monday afternoons call for Wordle with the Party.

With little else to do in Hawkins on your day off, you find yourself situated at DRAGON’S BREATH with Steve, Dustin, and Jonathan’s younger brother Will.

Figuring out the last Wordle is a daunting task. Thankfully Argyle has been periodically swinging by, his emotional support nachos being the only thing keeping you from ripping out your hair.

"Tunic," Will suggests.

"Tonic," Steve contributes. "Like tonic water."

"Topic?" you pitch in. “Like Hot Topic.”

This is taking all of your last brain cells combined.

"Topic was one of them, Shy Girl,” Dustin sighs irritably. “I said that already.”

You raise your arms, surrendering. It seems you’ve poked the beast.

It’s been hard for you to focus anyway. The hot and heavy night you spent with Eddie a couple nights ago is taking up all the space of your dirty little mind.

You think of Eddie. His moans. The O-shape his mouth made as he chased his own pleasure on you. How full your pussy felt with just his three fingers pulsing in and out, and how full your mouth felt with Eddie's cock ramming the back of your throat with no mercy. The taste of him. How shocked he looked when you swallowed. How rough he was with you, but oh so thoughtful at the same time.

Truly an experience from another dimension. And you’re already fantasizing about the next time.

But you still want to keep it on the down low. Considering Eddie might still be seeing his Lady Friend, and you're still getting shagged by his roommate whenever he’s not home, you can't exactly get mad at him for texting someone who isn't you.

“Pssst,” you nudge Steve while the others brainstorm. “I think Eddie is talking to Nina again.”

Confusion sets in on Steve's face. He raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“Yeah,” you smirk, trying to pretend that it doesn’t hurt. “Saw a message exchange between them a couple days ago.”

“Who’s Nina?”

“Isn’t that the Lady Friend’s name?”

“No…” Steve shakes his head. “Lady Friend’s name was Heather.”

It really has you wondering now... who is Nina?

"Yeah, the kukris are cool huh?" you hear Eddie's soothing voice come into earshot.

Odd. He stopped coming in on Mondays, you thought.

"That's the cool thing about owning a business,” you hear Eddie explain. “You get to choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes — at least most of the time."

Where have you heard that before?

Then Eddie comes into view, with a girl walking very closely behind him.

She’s stunning, standing to be about five-foot-two with a youthful face, petite body, and straight, long jet-black hair. Both conventionally, and legitimately beautiful, the girl looks to be at least 20 years old, dressed in cream-colored Chuck Taylor's, tattered booty shorts, and a playful white off-the-shoulder blouse. Scattered fine-line tattoos ornament her body. Her makeup has been flawlessly painted on, her lash extensions a hybrid between voluminous and wispy. And because you’re from Southern California, you can spot lip injections from a mile away.

A new dancer.

"This is where you clock in," Eddie explains to her. "I'll be sure to get you your punch in code by the end of the week. Over at the lounge we have Will, Shy Girl, Steve, and Dustin. Hey guys!”

Now you know why it sounds familiar. You received a very identical run down when you first started.

You're too shocked to wave so you feign a smile at your new colleague. Also, Eddie is too quick for you to react.

"We call the hookah lounge Dragon's Breath," Eddie continues. "And main-stage-slash-tip-rail is called Vecna's Lair."

They walk over to VECNA'S LAIR and you crane your neck to watch.

You observe Eddie give the girl a very familiar run down of Hellfire, using his arms to talk and eyes to listen.

She laughs at Eddie's charm, as anyone would. They talk for a bit more before he walks, what looks like to you, a predatory circle around her — a lion and a gazelle — and then spins her. Then Eddie does something that just about snaps your heart in half.

“MWAH!” he exclaims. “You are gonna do great. I just know it.”

The verbal kiss. The spin. The drowning her in compliments. Everything he did with you.

If Eddie’s gonna do his job, could he at least make every interaction with his employees unique? It all makes you feel betrayed. As if you were just another number in the factory.

"Traitor." you hiss sharply under your breath.

You abruptly stand up to start towards Eddie, hands balled into fists at the blatant disrespect displayed in front of you. You feel sick to your stomach, skin seemingly dragon-green with envy.

"That’s seven letters not five!" Dustin calls after you.

Eddie sees you in his periphery and waves. For the sake of keeping the peace, the smile you exude is fake to him, but friendly to the girl next to him.

"Hey, Hargrove!" Eddie smiles. "We've got a new person on board."

"I see that!" you exclaim. "Hi, I'm Shy Girl."

"I'm Nina," she introduces herself with a bright smile. "It's nice to meet you."

You two shake hands. Nina is just darling. Her eyes are so kind and bright, full of wonder. Her energy is warm. For a second there she was making you nervous.

“Y-you gonna be starting with us soon?” you investigate.

“Yeah, I start on Friday!”

“First dancing gig?”

Eddie shoots you a look, almost as if what you said was disrespectful. It wasn’t your intention. You were just wondering, after all. Nina looks really, really young.

“Uh, no actually,” Nina smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been dancing since I was 18. So two-ish years now.”

Your soul hurts.

Eighteen is just a baby. Twenty is a fresh adult. Nina is only a year older than the kiddos and can't even be near POTIONS without redirection from Henry.

Now you’re disgusted with Eddie. Why would he ever get so close to someone so young? You thought teenagers at Hellfire made him queasy. Nina is 20 now, but still. What would she have in common with a 28 year old? What about her was so appealing to Eddie?

“Oh! That’s cool… I think?”

Eddie’s harsh lines deepen across his face.

“Nina, why won’t you put your bag down by the cubbies, sweetheart?” Eddie suggests. “Then I’ll have Argyle make you something to eat. My treat.”

“Okay!” Nina chimes. "I was eyeing the chicken wings."

"Done deal. Wings or flats?"

"Flats!" Nina says as she skips away. "Please."

Eddie's admiring eyes trail after her as Nina acqauints herself with Hellfire.

So many questions arise in your head. Is Nina who Eddie’s been texting all this time? Did she come in and audition like you did? Did he ask her out on an 'orientation' lunch/dinner that he apparently does with all of his dancers? It wouldn't surprise you. None of this behavior is new.

This jealousy feels icky. And most of all, it hurts.

"Ugh!" Eddie clutches his chest. He turns to you. "I love her already."

You remain stiff as a board as Eddie slowly leans into you. A part of you is aching to lean in as well, but you can’t give him the satisfaction.

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back because he knows Steve is watching. His eyes are out on a prowl per usual the way they burn into you.

"Looking beautiful as always," Eddie compliments you. "How are you? I haven't stopped thinking about you since Saturday."

He looks over your shoulder at the Wordle group.

"What was the last word?"

“Don’t know,” you huff. “You seem to have gotten it.”

“What?” Eddie questions cluelessly.

“With Nina,” you cross your arms. "And all your words that you've been wooing her with."

“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie scowls. His hand drops back to his side. “You're mad because I... hired a stripper? Cause that’s kinda what I do.”

“I'm not mad that you hired a stripper, you literally own a strip club,” you shrug. “It’s just that…I didn’t know you use the same script with every new hire.”

"I'm sorry? Script?”

"You used almost the exact same words with me, Eddie," you explain. "Like you do with everybody I'm guessing.”

Disbelief sets in on Eddie's face, accompanied by an ounce of fear. Eddie is scared of something.

"Well, I don't know what you expected me to do when you first started," Eddie shrugs. "I'm not gonna come off strong and hit on you like some creep. Of course I'm gonna give you the same treatment I give everybody."

Eddie's got a solid rationale, but it didn't take away from the fact that you simply felt ordinary. When you compare the interactions side by side, nothing about Shy Girl stuck out from Nina.

"Why are we even having this conversation right now?" Eddie asks you. "We're not even together."

“I’m not trying to pick a fight, believe me,” you cross your arms. “I’m just disappointed is all. You made me really think you were falling for me.”

“Oh so all it takes is me walking with a girl to have all of my words not ring true anymore?”

Your tongue and stomach are in knots. All you can do is stand there and blubber like a baby. You’re making no sense, you’re aware. But why does it hurt you so bad?

Eddie paces back and forth. "I don't even know why I feel the need to explain myself, Hargrove,” he continues. “I’m not the one fucking the other’s best friend."

It's a reasonable standpoint. Still. You felt disgusting.

“Yeah but..." you argue softly. "How can you feel so comfortable touching…kissing…interacting with someone like that after being so intimate with me?”

Your boss can only release a chuckle, a baffled one at that. He shakes his head rapidly.

“Just because we hooked up over the weekend, you think you have a say in who I associate with or what goes on around here?" Eddie spews. “What, are you trying to take over Hellfire or something?”

Your lip quivers. “I never said that! Where did that even come from? Why are you so fucking defensive right now?”

Eddie’s nose flares angrily as he tries to keep himself collected. Suddenly, Nina calls out for his attention and he softens up again.

“Eddie!” the new girl cheers. “Argyle gave me some of his flats and it's so good! I think I’m gonna shoot for Creeping Death next!”

“Hey, nice!” Eddie smiles. “You like spicy, huh?”

“Mhm!”

It would be a lot easier to hate her if she did something to you. But Nina didn't do anything.

Eddie turns back around to face you, kicking at the ground before he thinks of something to say.

“Let’s not do this right now,” Eddie resigns, placing his hands over his hips. “You uh…clocking in?”

“No, I’m going home actually,” you respond. “It’s my day off.”

Eddie makes a face. You project it back onto him. For a moment, you two are staring at each other, appalled at one another's behavior. Being infatuated with the literal mirror version of yourself is hell.

“Hey Eddie!” Will calls. “Do you know a five-lettered word that starts with T and ends with C?”

Eddie’s eyes don’t leave you.

“Sure do,” he answers. “TOXIC.”

There’s a pause.

“BADA-BOOM!” Dustin hollers. “That’s the one.”

Eddie doesn't bother to chase you after your mini altercation. Just then, another pair of heels that don't belong to you click across the hard club floor. Chrissy comes into sight, holding a tray of slushees and her car keys in her hands.

“Hey guys!” Chrissy sings. “I got us some slushees from 7-Eleven. They're Cherry flavored...”

“I’ll pass,” you huff. “You can give one to Nina.”

“Ooh we have someone new?!” she chirps. “Where?”

Chrissy notices your shift in attitude when you walk away and Eddie’s stand-offish posture.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” you hear her snap at Eddie as you walk away.

“Nothing,”

“Bullshit. You look guilty as fuck.”

You stomp your way back over to your section and ask Steve to hand you your purse. It's obvious by the look on his face that Steve caught onto what you were feeling. He doesn't question it. He hands you your things.

"I'm not feeling too well, guys," you announce. "I'm going home."

You collect your trash and organize it neatly for Argyle when he comes back over with some waffle fries. Showing your appreciation for him, you thank him and give him a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Argyle, you should've seen the new girl," Dustin fawns. "She's so pretty."

"Yeah?" Argyle quirks up. "What's her name?"

"Nina."

"Was she hot?" he turns to the guys. "Byers, what do you think? Was she a 10 or what?"

Will, who never seems to pay the Hellfire girls any mind, eyes glued to his sketchbook instead of their sultry outfits, squirms around in his seat. He shrugs. "I-I don't know."

"Steve?"

"She was pretty cute."

Your blood boils. Not her stealing Steve's heart too!

"Nina…” Argyle repeats. "How exotic. She sounds like a small feisty Latina woman."

“Bet Shy Girl can vouch,” Dustin comments. “Right, Shy Girl?”

Intrigued, the line cook turns to you.

"Well, Shy Girl? Is she giving chunti, chingona, or what?”

Steve encourages Argyle to stop as you walk away, hair covering the sides of your face on the way out.

“What?” Argyle sounds bewildered. “What’d I say?”

"Was I made from a broken home?"

A girls day with Max would surely take your mind off of the Nina situation. She always knew how to make you feel better. Lucky for you, she is home today, evident by her skateboard that is situated neatly in the garage.

You hear some commotion coming from your shared bedroom and go in to greet her.

"Hey girl hey!" you call out to your sister. "It's my day off so I was wondering if you wanted to go t-"

You pause in your tracks, horrified.

"Hmm," Max ponders aloud. "Last time I recall, stilettos and G-strings aren't really part of nursing home etiquette."

Propped open on Max’s bed is one of your unpacked suitcases, the one that you hid all your lingerie, heels, and the Hellfire shirt Eddie gave you when you first started in. Typically you lock it but you left it open this morning. Out of all days Max had to look through your room, it had to be today.

Max has a tennis racket in her hand, the handle acting as a hook the way it swept up a thong of yours so effortlessly. You feel your knees buckle.

"What are you doing looking through my stuff, you little shit?" you bark.

"Looking for my sports bras," Max replies nonchalantly. "Still can't find 'em."

She dangles the thong in the air like it's something she caught at the lake.

"Found some other goodies though."

"You couldn't have just waited to ask me?"

"I would've had to wait a day or two since you work nights," Max snaps. "Now I know why. And do I even need to ask where?"

Just what you needed. This is JUST what you needed.

You feel exposed. Violated. Disrespected. In every aspect and every situation. There was no safe place to turn. It makes you angry.

Fine. If people are going to disrespect you, you'll be disrespectful too.

"When is it EVER okay to snoop?" you hiss. "Have you any respect for others and their belongings? How would you feel if I started picking apart at your shit?"

"I wouldn’t care because I don't have anything to hide."

"That's not the fucking point, Maxine."

"Oh, not the government name!" Max exclaims, sassily putting a hand over her chest.

That really tips you over the edge.

"I should've known," Max proceeds, shaking her head. She chucks the racket back onto her bed. “You haven't renewed your CPR cert since you graduated high school. And you need that to even work as a caregiver. Didn't catch that loophole when you were LYING, did you?"

"I was lying to protect you."

"You still lied, Sis," Maxine argues. "You're missing the point..."

Oh, now she wants to mimmick you.

You're blind-sided. Tunnel-visioned. You are feeling all five stages of grief all at once. It’s all too much to bear. You feel the bomb ticking...

As much as you love your sister, it sure was a bitch to raise her. You spent most of the time explaining to Max what social cues are, what is acceptable and what is not. It often made you short-fused because what was common sense to you took ages for Max to understand. Like how you shouldn't look through other people's things.

Max learns best when she puts herself in others' shoes. You've learned that the hard way, over the years.

“How would you feel if I was looking through your drawers and shit?” you walk over to Max’s corner of the room, prying open her drawers and tossing whatever is in there out. “And just tossing your shit out onto the floor?"

“What the fuck?!” Max exclaims. "What are you doing?!"

“Or what if I just went to your side of the mirror and…” you knock her perfume bottles off from the dresser mirror in numbers and watch them fall onto the floor. "Knocked all your shit down because I was looking for my own things?"

"I get it now, stop."

“Or," you brainstorm. "What if I just started unpacking your vinyls and shit and just not care about the packaging?”

Max stops you right there. "ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?! I said STOP."

“How would YOU FEEL?” you yell. “HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF I DID THAT TO YOU?! IF I PULLED A 'YOU' ON YOU? NOT GREAT, HUH?”

How would everybody feel if you acted the way they did? Would they be mortified? Would they be disgusted?

Would Dad not hit anybody?

Would Mom have chosen to stay?

Would your first love never want to see you again?

Would Eddie be angry at your behavior?

Would Max think you're the worst sibling ever?

You would hope so for all the above.

Your heart couldn’t take any more pain.

"SHUT," Max screeches. "THE FUCK UP!"

She tosses an acrylic storage box at you. It hits you and you yelp in pain. When she realizes what she has done, Max punches the pillow on her bed. Physically aching for the last word, you take it upon yourself to chuck your empty Hydroflask at her. Thankfully, it misses and the ear-piercing CLINK sound is enough to startle her. Max shrinks herself down in fear, trying to process what you just did.

You regret it immediately. You didn't want to hit her. You mainly did it for intimidation.

It puts you to shame. You are toxic.

Suddenly, Max inflates again, her entire face extending to her ears redder than her fiery amber hair.

"YOU," Maxine growls. "ARE JUST LIKE BILLY!"

Silence.

You take a look around the trashed room. Never did you think you had it in you to be someone like your brother. But of course, the Wolf who is fed the most prevails.

The amount of hurt and anger you actually harbored was way more than you thought. You can’t take back the fact that you’ve exploded on everyone you love now. But at least you can hold yourself accountable.

"I didn't mean that," Max mumbles. “I’m really sorry.”

"No, Max," you sigh. "You're right. And I'm sure you've been wanting to say that for a while..."

But Max refuses. “NO! I just wanted the last word again. Like I always fucking do even when I know it’s never worth it.”

You and your sister join each other by sitting criss-crossed on the floor, pushing the debris off to the side to be handled later. Max leans her head on you and you let her, combing through her knotted hair with your trembling fingers.

"We have a lot to unlearn, don't we?" she sighs.

You nod. "Oh yeah..."

She grabs your hand.

"Are you safe at least?" Max questions. "At work? Any creeps I gotta beat up for you?"

A laugh escapes you. "Nah, someone's already got that covered. Bones snapping and all."

Max flinches.

"That's how you got all that money real fast, huh? Stripping?”

You nod to confirm. "I did it for you. Well, us."

You watch as Max takes out her phone and shuffles through her camera roll. Her most recent in the gallery are videos of her shooting free throws at the Y and playing tennis. She cancels out some apps for more storage, one of them being Messenger. The tab reveals that Billy was spamming her again.

You both shudder. Max puts her phone away.

"Because of you I have a membership," she beams. "And I have a safe place to rest my head and I have money to do what I want and I have food on the table."

She hugs you.

“I hope you know how grateful I am for you. For putting my needs before yours. For throwing yourself into something so terrifying just so I can have a better life than you did growing up.”

“I never thought for a second you were being ungrateful,” you hug her back. “And no matter what I say or do, I’m sticking by you no matter what.”

“Even when I’m being an asshole?”

“Even when you’re being an asshole.”

Max giggles. “Thanks for the reassurance.”

Suddenly your door swings open, causing you and Max to jolt in place. Thankfully, it’s just Robin and Vicky, both worried and confused about the state of your room.

"ToTo," Robin says. "We're not in Hawkins anymore."

"What tornado rummaged through here?!" Vicky exclaimed. "Guys. Are you okay?"

You and Max burst into laughter.

"Yeah, we’re good," you nod. "Just Hurricane Hargrove passing through."

As long as you have Max and your sisterhood with Robin and Vicky, you know you're going to be okay.

You refuse to mope around for the rest of the day, so in the evening you go bowling with Max and your roommates, loading yourselves up with carbs and soda. You ignore Eddie’s “can we talk?” messages, along with Billy’s routine “where the fuck are you” texts followed by rage-calls without a care in the world . Towards the end of the night, however, when the “Sad Boy Hours” hit, there’s a text from a man you simply can’t ignore.

Maybe: Henry

Hey 🧍🏻 it's Henry from work. Can I ask you something? Pls be honest.

tag list: @battymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerrr , @jxpsi i , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123

[natrogersfics]

Always Remember Us This Way - A Romanogers AU

Artwork by @faith2nyc Part of the So It Goes... 'verse

Heels click against the marble, and it’s not until Steve’s own feet are moving that he realizes how attuned he’s grown to the sound, following suit without so much as a second thought and stationing himself by the closest pillar. Before him is the vast expanse of the newly renovated penthouse floor of Red Guardian’s Midtown property, its far most wall made entirely of glass windows boasting a panoramic view of the sun setting over Manhattan’s skyline and providing the perfect backdrop behind Natasha as she makes her way to the sprawling bar. Loki and Ophelia trail not too far behind her, and momentarily, he lets his eyes drift to the latter.

He hadn’t learned much else about the woman from the report Maria Hill, his contact at the FBI, had given him. There were some rumblings about her tendency to be tactless, but given the social circles she runs in, that hardly comes as a surprise to him. Nevertheless, her lack thereof of any criminal history did wonders for assuaging his concerns about this last-minute meeting – especially in light of the venue change from Natasha’s office to here.

“As you could probably tell from the gray and gold veining,” Natasha begins, looking at Ophelia as she traces the surface of the counter with a finger. “This is made entirely out of Calacatta imported from Italy. Now, obviously, this bar is intended for refreshments, but given that slabs like these are rare, I was thinking-”

“That it’d make a great backdrop for my products,” Ophelia finishes for her, and though her back is to him, he can tell from her tone that she’s clearly impressed.

“It could be a nice touch if your team is planning on taking some flat lays for your socials,” Natasha says. Her tone is cool and casual, but he catches the way the corner of her mouth quirks ever so slightly, her tell that she knows she’s on the right track. 

And she’s right. He doesn’t have to see Ophelia’s expression to know that the woman is already sold on the idea. She may not be aware of it, but what she’s currently experiencing is Natasha Romanoff in her element, and he’s observed enough of her meetings to know that it’s all but impossible to walk away from her, uncharmed, when she’s dialed in like this.

It’s as Natasha leads the way towards the center of the room, talking about the craftsmanship of the pair of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that he brings a hand up to the side of his face, tapping on his earpiece. “Give me a floor run down.”

Sam’s response comes a second later. “Floor below is clear. As is the lobby.”

“And the construction site across the street?”

“I have eyes on it,” Clint pipes in. “Lots of workers, but no suspicious activity so far.”

“Copy that. Thank you, both.”

Some semblance of relief washes over him as he puts his mic back on mute. By all accounts, he knows that having two members of his team run surveillance during a routine client meeting is overkill. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s accompanied Natasha to site visits just like this one, and never once has he required backup. Nevertheless, as he thinks back to the events that have occurred since they returned home, the part of him that believes that it’s always better to be safe than sorry can’t help but roar loudly.

It was instant, the way he knew something was wrong when he and Natasha walked down the steps of the jet to be greeted by the stoic faces of his team. Sam was the first to speak, informing them both that out of an abundance of caution, they would be taking Natasha back to her suite at The Empire instead of her apartment. It was on the car ride over that the team had started to brief them, and while his gut began to sink as he listened to their theory that someone had been keeping tabs on Natasha’s apartment while they’d been abroad, it wasn’t until he was presented with the letters – letters that were similar to the ones Natasha’s father had shared with him when he’d first sought his services – that he felt his blood run cold.

Finding the culprit had become their team’s primary focus in the days that followed, the intensity with which they had treated the objective reminiscent only of his days running covert operations in the Army. With confirmation that Natasha’s initial stalker was still incarcerated, they had set out to ID another suspect, exhausting every avenue from the CCTV footage from her apartment to leveraging what contacts they had in law enforcement. His patience (and quite frankly, his sanity) was beginning to run thin when a week had passed and they had yet to find any concrete leads, the four walls of his office becoming unwantedly too familiar to him as he spent his nights obsessively poring over all the information the team could gather, trying to piece it all together. It’s the most time he’s spent at his desk, and while he normally hated being confined to a space, he found it difficult to peel himself away. It was one thing to protect Natasha from the unknown. That was always going to be a challenge. What he couldn’t stomach, however, was how he had let a horror from her past haunt her once more.

The breakthrough they’d been desperately searching for finally arrived a few days later when a forensic analyst from the NYPD was able to confirm a handwriting match from a previous case. “I was never going to harm her,” he recalls the suspect, Sonny Burch, saying with that distinct drawl of his as he watched the authorities interrogate him from behind the one-way glass at the precinct. “I just wanted to know that if I wanted to, I could,” Burch added, unable to conceal his sickening joy. “And now I do.”

Burch was far from the criminal mastermind he’d been picturing, the man’s gel-stiffened combover that gleamed under the fluorescent lights making him look more like a caricature of a villain than anything else. And though the pursuit of infamy may have been Burch’s only objective, it made no difference to him. Physically harming Natasha may allegedly not have been in his plans, but in sending her those letters, Burch had drudged up one of the worst experiences of her life, and that was enough for him to want to see him behind bars.

He wants to say that knowing Burch has been apprehended helped him sleep better at night, but that would only be a half truth. Perhaps justice had been served. But if there’s anything the incident had highlighted even deeper for him, it’s that danger continues to lurk, and now, more than ever, it’s clear that he needs to keep his eyes open.

“Was there anything else you’d like to see Ms. Sarkissian?”

Loki’s question breaks him out of his reverie, and he blinks to see the trio of them walking towards the front of the room. Silently, he follows, finding his post close to the elevator when they pause just a few feet away.

“No, I think I’ve seen everything I needed to see,” Ophelia says, a pleased smile forming on her lips. “I look forward to Viper Cosmetics inaugurating Red Guardian’s newest space in the Spring.”

Natasha shares a glance with Loki before beaming back at her. “As do we.”

“Wonderful,” Ophelia says, adjusting her purse on her wrist. “And again, I do apologize for having to make a hasty exit, but I have to run to my next appointment. That being said, I’ll have my team contact yours to discuss getting a contract together.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Loki says, offering his arm out to her. “Allow me to escort you downstairs?”

“Please,” Ophelia says, linking arms with Loki, who begins to lead her towards the elevator.

He takes a step forward to get the button when he catches Loki gesturing for him to stop, and with a nod of acknowledgement, he unmutes his mic instead. “Client is on their way down.”

The elevator dings just as he hears Sam’s affirmative in his ear, confirming that he’s already stationed at the lobby. Loki and Ophelia step inside, the latter sending another smile at Natasha, who’s come to stand next to him. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Natasha.”

“You too, Ophelia,” Natasha says as the doors begin to slide closed. They wait for the hum of the elevator as it begins to descend, and it’s as the numbers on the panel above start to decrease that Natasha turns to him, eyes expectant. “So, what do you think?”

He shrugs. “She’s demurer than I expected,” he says. “Compared to her online presence, at least. But as far being a threat goes… what?”

“I meant about the deal,” she says, and though she looks away, he catches the way her expression falls. 

“Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, you have her ready to draw up a contract after your first meeting. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a home run.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Her company is going to be a great addition to your client list,” he adds, taking note of her less than enthusiastic response. “I’m sure the board will be thrilled.”

When she looks back at him, the smile she flashes his way doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Would be nice to get them off my back for a few days, wouldn’t it?”

His brows furrow in concern as she turns away from him to walk to the credenza where she’d set her belongings at the beginning of the meeting. It would be easy to ascribe her sudden forlornness on her being worried about the board watching her every move. But that’s a perpetual worry for her as long as she’s in this job, and he knows that for the most part, it’s something she’s incredibly adept at coping with. Whatever it is that’s weighing on her now, it certainly has nothing to do with work.

“Natasha,” he says, coming up behind her as she slips her tablet back into her purse. His hands fall to her shoulders when she doesn’t respond, and he frowns when he feels how stiff they are. “Tell me what you need.” He slides his hands down her arms, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when she leans back against him, melting into his touch. “If you’re tired, I can ask Daisy to book an appointment with your masseuse.”

She hums at the thought. “Tell her to call my bodyguard while she’s at it,” she mutters. “Tell him I miss him.”  

His hands still at her words. “Hey,” he says, gently turning her so their eyes can meet, only to find the emotion in hers difficult to pin down. “I’ve been right here.”

“Physically, maybe…” She pauses, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip – the way she always does when she’s hesitant. A beat passes before she sighs. “But Steve, ever since the letters-”

“Nat,” he interjects, “I-”

“I know you’re just doing your job,” she concedes with a nod. “But then there’s your job, and then there’s… you and me.” She shakes her head. “I just worry that maybe it’s beginning to be too much.”

“What? Natasha, no,” he says firmly. “That’s not it. Not in the slightest.”

“Then why have you been keeping your distance from me?” she says, giving up any pretense of hiding her frustration now.

It’s then that he sees it – the hurt in her eyes that’s clear as day. The anguish that’s been lingering from the moment they got back home, he realizes, flashing every single time he’s left her in the care of someone else to go and dive right back into the case. He had mistaken it for fear of the situation, and in his determination to never see that emotion on her face ever again, it seems he’s only made it worse.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, his eyes turning downcast as a curse slips from his lips. “But you having to see those letters again? Having to relive…” He shakes his head, refusing to even voice the words. “I guess I stayed away because I’ve been feeling so ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” she repeats, only to cup his face in her hand when he nods. “None of that was your fault, Steve.”

“I failed you,” he says, swallowing the lump that’s formed in his throat.

“No, you didn’t.”

With a shake of his head, he pulls away from her. “It happened under my watch-”

“And it’s under your watch that it got resolved,” she insists, sighing when he doesn’t look quite convinced. “Hey, listen to me. I won’t downplay the fact that the world’s a dangerous place, Steve. We both know that. But when the facts tell us that this time around, the danger is just a lunatic looking for some fame? We need to leave it at that and count putting him away as a win.” She steps closer to him, imploring him to meet her gaze. “Otherwise, we’re just living life afraid, and I don’t want that… And I know you don’t, either.”

His eyes fall shut at that, huffing out a breath that’s long and winded. Despite his never ending list of worries, he knows that she’s right. While he couldn’t stand the idea of any kind of harm coming to her, protecting her has always been about making her feel safe enough to live her life the way she wants to. It was never about keeping her in a gilded cage or making her privy to and fearful of all the dangers that lie ahead – something his actions had inadvertently done in the weeks since this all unfolded.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Nat,” he says, and for the first time in weeks, he allows himself to give into his urge to pull her into his arms. She goes willingly, burrowing her head in his chest as he wraps his arms around her. He drops a kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “If something happened to you...”

She pulls away just enough to look up at him. “You would never let anything happen to me.”

Her words take him back to the very first time she had uttered them to him, her hand in his as she sat in the bathtub that night after they’d finally given into their desire for one another. He recalls the certainty in her eyes then, certainty that’s only somehow been fortified as she stares at him now, even after everything that’s occurred. “You said you trusted me… Did you mean that?” 

“I mean every word I tell you,” she says solemnly, then in the same breath, she allows mischief to flicker in her expression. “Well, almost every word.” He arches a brow at that, and as she rests her palms flat on his chest, she juts her lower lip out in a playful pout. “I said you would never let anything happen to me, but seems you have no problem letting me miss you.”

He scoffs, amusement pulling his lips up into a smile. “A demented sociopath was running amuck and that’s what you were worried about?” Her shoulders lift in a nonchalant shrug, prompting him to chuckle. “Your mind, Miss Romanoff, is always in the gutter.”

“Weeks, Rogers,” she whispers, pulling him closer by his tie and looking up at him from underneath the fan of her darkened lashes. “I’ve been missing you for weeks.”  

A quip makes its way to the tip of his tongue, but before he can say it, he’s interrupted by Sam’s voice in his ear. “There’s a pileup on the BQE, Cap. Barnes will be late for his shift, but I’ll fill in until he makes it out.”

Natasha stiffens in his hold, confirmation that with their proximity, she heard Sam’s words loud and clear. “Don’t bother,” he replies, running a hand reassuringly down her back. “I’ll take the night shift.” She smiles widely at that, and as Sam voices his confirmation, he takes off earpiece for good measure as he adds, “Seems I have weeks to make up for." 

“Bold of you to assume you can make up for all that time in one night," she says, smirking. 

He tips his chin up at that, the corners of his lips quirking when he catches the little breath she takes in. 

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3

[rebeliz7]

The Key

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Part 1: The Sling Ring

This is my third time posting this, so lets hope this time works

Yelena

Consciousness comes accompanied by a tight grip of terror for Yelena, but she keeps her eyes closed for a few seconds before deciding to face whatever she’s up against. 

The sudden bump on her back and the sound of an old engine roaring alive tell her that she’s in the back of a moving truck, which only confuses her more than she’s comfortable with at the moment. 

How the hell did she end up in a truck? Scratch that. How the hell is she on the ground when the last thing she remembers is being twenty thousand feet up in the air with the team?

Hell! How did she end up alone?

…

Bucky

The splash of water wakes him up abruptly, and when he notices that he’s sinking fast he swims up to the surface in a frenzy, and in dire need of air. 

He comes up in the middle of a wide luxurious pool in the back of some fancy mansion, with absolutely no recollection of how he ended up there whatsoever. 

Instincts kicking in, he swims to the edge as quietly as possible, but the eerie absence of sound tells him he’s alone and this place is empty. 

Getting out of the pool, he inspects the place quickly and inaudibly, but he’s completely alone in the remote mansion. 

The last thing he remembers is flying the jet and the team, so how the hell did he end up here by himself? And where the hell did he leave the quinjet? 

…

Natasha

“Out!” An old woman’s raging yell brings Natasha out of her slumber faster than she can comprehend. 

“Out of here! Get out of my house!” The woman yells as she threatens to hit Natasha with her cane. 

Confused but agile as ever, Natasha avoids the cane and leaves the woman’s house in a rush as an old cat watches her from above the couch. Outside, the sun is at its highest peak and the neighborhood is alive with activity. 

She has no idea where she is, or how she got there. 

The woman’s still screaming inside the house, so Natasha goes down the sidewalk with measured steps and on high alert. 

The last thing she remembers is Bucky flying the jet--and then nothing. 

Where’s Yelena? Where’s Wanda, and where are you? Where’s Bucky? And most importantly, where the hell is her phone or any of her gadgets?

…

You

You’re running. You don’t know how long you’ve been running for, but all you know is that the thing following you is not giving up and damn it! Neither are you! 

The growling-green goo spitting monster is just a few feet behind you, and you--you just have to keep running and avoid being eaten by it. 

The magic ring on your fingers feels heavy and cold, and you have no idea how to control it or why it’s opening up portals for you when you’re not a wizard yourself. 

Out of breath and your heart rate going a mile per minute, you move your hands once more while simultaneously trying not to trip on your own feet, and the air sparks in front of you before another portal opens up. 

You jump through it without a second though, and the monster jumps right behind you. 

“Damn it!” You curse out loud and without being able to help it. 

“How the hell do I close these things?!”

…

Wanda

Wanda wakes up to a blue eyed little girl softly tapping her cheek, and the bright sun shining above her, blinding her for a hot second. 

“She’s up.” The child says with a smile so sincere and voice so adorably small, that for just a second Wanda forgets what’s really happening. 

The second comes and goes though, and dread washes over her as she looks for you and doesn’t see you. She’s in the backyard of a modest house, where there’s meat on the grill and a huge golden retriever sleeping on the grass just a few feet away from her. 

“Woah, careful there.” A woman says when Wanda stands up from the hammock, where she was sleeping, apparently. 

“There was someone else with me.” Wanda speaks with urgency as the woman guides her towards a nearby chair.

“You landed alone.” The woman tells her calmly. 

“Landed?”

“Right there.” The woman points to a spot on the grass. “You came through one of those Dr. Strange ring things, portals or whatever they are. But you were by yourself.”

The portals, the memories come back all at once and Wanda sighs to herself. 

“We call them portals.” She clarifies for the woman, just as the memory of you grabbing Wong’s sling ring and discovering that you can actually use it flashes through her mind. 

Sparks flew when you moved your fingers and everyone ran. 

She sighs again. It’s gonna take forever to find you and the rest of the team and---oh god, wasn’t there a green monstrosity following you the last time she saw you?

…

Yelena

“I’m gonna fucking kill them.” Yelena murmurs under her breath. 

“Bajate! Afuera!” The owner of the truck yells and even gives her a -not so gentle- push to get her off his vehicle. 

“I’m going!” Yelena snaps too, as she jumps from the back and is left standing in the middle of a relatively empty street in---well, she has no idea where the hell she is. 

“I’m going to fucking kill them good.” She promises, hands fisting angrily and patience running out. 

First a phone, and then planning your demise. 

She’s not sure who’s fault it is that she’s now stranded in this godforsaken little town, but she’s ninety percent sure that it’s your fault. You did this, she just knows it.

This has you written all over it! 

“I’m just gonna fucking strangle her first. I will.” She promises out loud, head nodding as she promises harder. “I’m gonna see her, slap her and then strangle her. In that order. If Wanda kills me after, it’ll be damn worth it.”

Just as she’s picturing your pleading face as she chokes you in her mind, the memories of what happened come back to her and she stops walking, stomping her foot on the ground. 

“I knew it!”

…

Bucky

After finding dry clothes and a working phone, the Winter Soldier sets to call Natasha but instead he takes a deep breath as he suddenly remembers exactly how he ended up falling in the pool. 

“She has magic.” He thinks out loud, dread building inside his chest against his will. “Oh, no. She has magic. God saves us all.”

In retrospect, he could have chosen his words better. 

Through one of the large windows he sees a portal opening above the pool again and just as he’s about to run outside, you come through the other side and the same monster that started all this, falls behind you. 

He runs outside to help you as the creature begins to wail and flap around in the water with it’s six long arms helplessly. 

“Bucky.” You gasp as he pulls you out of the water and both of you are caught staring at the dying creature just a few feet away from you. 

“Is it dying?” You ask, holding onto his arms, as he pulls you even closer against his chest. 

“I think so.” He says as the creature gives one last crying weak wail of pain and goes immobile. 

You both stare for a little bit longer as it floats, expecting it to come at you again, but when a minute long passes you let out a breath you’ve been holding since you first saw that thing. 

“It actually looks kind of adorable.” You say as you step away from his arms, and miss the incredulous look he’s giving you. “I mean, now that’s not trying to kill us.”

“Are you serious?!” 

Jumping back at hearing him scream, you watch as a flock of birds flies away, startled by the loud sound as well. 

“You threw everyone through different portals to heaven knows where!” He continues yelling when you turn to face him. 

“To save your lives!” You point out.

“After you read a book that clearly said ‘Do not read me’ and opened up a damn portal for this thing to come after us in the first place!”

“How was I supposed to know that the book actually meant that?” You ask him, and he opens his mouth but closes it again while obviously swallowing more yells. 

You begin to feel bad as he tries and fails to find words, time after time. If you didn’t know him well enough, you’d think he’s about to slap some sense into you. Not that you need it. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologize after a beat and he visibly deflates. Even the vein on his forehead stops palpating as he relaxes.

“Where are the girls?” He asks you, but he doesn’t need an answer from you, not when he can read the guilt clear as day in your eyes. 

“I think we might need to call Strange.”

“Ya think, huh?”

…

Wanda

Wanda stares at the burrowed phone in her hand while inwardly debating if she should divorce you after this. 

In and out. In and out. 

Breathing isn’t helping. 

She’s overreacting, or maybe she isn’t. She hates you right now, but she knows that her love for you is bigger than the current mess you made. In reality she’ll never divorce you but god, how she hates you right now!

She’s about to dial Natasha’s number when a portal opens up in the middle of this family’s backyard, again, she supposes. 

“Strange.” She sighs, and Susan yelps somewhere close. She did mention being a fan of Stephen earlier. 

“Wanda, what on earth is going on?” The Doctor asks her, the portal closing behind him as he moves towards her with urgency. 

A million thoughts run through Wanda’s mind in a millisecond then. She doesn’t want to throw you under the bus, but throwing you under is key in securing his help in solving what you did, and she needs him. 

You’ll sleep in the guest bedroom for a month, she swears it. 

Two months! 

A whole year!

“Rocket contacted Natasha earlier this morning, and told her about an object he came across on a planet called Mortuorum.”

“Planet of the Dead?” He asks for clarification, and his face morphs into something akin to despair. 

“We were just supposed to retrieve it, bring it here and---”

“Why?” He cuts her off, and rightfully so, she admits. “Why would you bring something from the Planet of the Dead here?”

“Rocket thought the Avengers could keep it safe, since a rebel space gang was after it.”

“Okay. Okay, hold on.” Taking his hands to his face, he takes a moment to breathe and Wanda’s anger towards you grows considerably. 

You just had to do it. 

“We’ll deal with that in a bit,” Stephen says. “I’m curious about how there are several sightseeings of monsters all over the world, and portals being open left and right. How did this ‘space gang’ come in touch with a sling ring?”

Wanda closes her eyes then, contemplates lying out of embarrassment, but ultimately decides to just give in.

“The sling ring was in the jet from Wong’s last visit. He was meant to retrieve it later today. The object we were supposed to keep safe was a rare book,” she says and takes a deep breath, hesitating one more time.  “Y/n took it.”

“Let me guess,” Stephen interrupts again. “She read the damn thing.”

“She read the damn thing.”

…

Natasha

What the hell did you do? Natasha’s lost count of how many times she’s asked herself the question in the past five minutes. 

Everyone’s phone is going straight to voicemail, which tells her that whatever you did caused all their tech to vanish for some reason. 

She dials Strange’s number next, guessing that’s the next logical step, but when he answers Natasha can barely hear him above the sound of people screaming somewhere close to where she is. 

Natasha sees a small crowd running in her direction, but they’re running away from something and dread washes over her one more time. 

“I’m with Wanda. Natasha, where are you?” Stephen asks her, loud enough to carry and Natasha loses her breath as she sees---zombies, actual zombies stumbling back to their feet after they continue to fall from an opened portal above them. 

She murmurs an address before taking a couple of steps backwards, still having trouble believing her eyes. 

“Oh y/h.” She murmurs under her breath, lamenting the day Fury left you in the Compound. “If you could only just stop opening portals.”

…

Yelena

“I’m gonna kill her. I’m gonna kill her.  I don’t care how hard I have to try.”

Out of breath and running for her life, Yelena still has the strength to curse your name as she escapes from two six foot tall blue aliens that crossed a portal when it suddenly opened in the middle of the street. 

“I’m so gonna kill her.” She promises, as she hides behind a dumpster to catch her breath. 

But it seems like she just can’t catch a break!

Another portal opens up just in front of her and before she has a chance to react properly, you and Bucky run through it and the arms of the giant monster that began all this get sliced as the portal closes behind the two of you. 

Yelena scrunches up her face as green gooey blood is splashed all over her, and Bucky grimaces at the scene.

“That was close.” You sigh and Yelena turns to you, blood murder in her eyes as she sees your innocent smile. “Dude, you’re covered in goo.”

When you double over about to throw up--at the sight of her, she almost breaks your neck, right then and there. And she would have if the two aliens hadn’t spotted her from down the street. 

“So that’s where they went.” Bucky says as you gag and he grabs your arm. “Get us out of here. Now!”

Tears in your eyes and on the verge of getting sick, you do the thing with your hands and another portal opens up. The three of you cross it without looking back. 

…

The first thing Yelena does when her life is no longer immediately threatened, is to go for your neck. 

You’re still trying to keep your lunch down when she slaps you and then leaps at you, throwing you into the ground, hard. Her hands are on your neck in the blink of an eye, and you’re caught off guard completely. 

Bucky grabs her by the waist though and carries her away from you, just as fast as she came at you. 

“Let me go! I’m gonna kill her! I’m gonna kill her!”

…

Wanda

“The hell you are!” Wanda screams as she runs to your side and raises her hands, ready to attack Yelena. 

“No! We’re not doing that!” Bucky yells, struggling with a feisty russian in his arms but managing to keep her in his hold. 

“She’s not touching my wife again.” Wanda tells him firmly, voice ice cold and magic swirling in her hands. 

You, on the other hand, lose the battle between being sick or not. 

Wanda hates you right now, more than she ever thought possible, but she also loves you---a little bit more than anyone should ever be allowed to love another human being. 

She grabs your hair, running a soothing hand on your back and then guides you towards the nearest bathroom where you can clean yourself up a little bit. 

God, she’s so happy you’re okay and relief washes over her with a strong wave of emotion that instantly brings tears to her eyes. Not that she lets them fall. 

“I’m sorry.” You speak, voice raw and tearfilled eyes locked on her. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know.” She nods as she runs a wet paper towel on your forehead and notices the red bruise on your left cheek. 

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You tell her, your voice cracking somewhere in the middle and she shakes her head. 

“I am so angry right now.” She admits, although she doesn’t pull away when you take her hands and throw the paper towel in the bin. 

“I’m so sorry.” You say again, meaning it. 

She looks at your hands, pleadingly squeezing hers and takes a couple of deep breaths. 

“Chain of command is important for situations exactly like this one.” She says, noticing how you flinch at the hard tone she uses. “When someone gives you an order, you listen. What part of ‘do not read that’ did you not get?”

Tears spring to your eyes so quickly that she instantly deflates. The anger that’s been bubbling in for the last couple of hours vanishes completely, even more so when your shoulders shake and she has to wrap her arms around you, however reluctantly at the moment. 

She caresses your hair and kisses your temple as you apologize, over and over again. After long minutes, you finally look up and she kisses your cheek before handing you another papel towel. 

“This is gonna bruise.” She runs a finger on your cheek and even notices a faint bruise on your neck as well. “I could kill that girl.”

“And then Natasha would kill you.” You tell her, but she just shrugs. 

“It’d be worth it. No one is allowed to hit you.”

“Even after what I did?”

“You’ll sleep in the guest bedroom for a month for this, but no. No one gets to hit you over it.”

…

You

When you emerge from the bathroom Wanda stands in front of you like a brick wall, unwilling to let anyone put their hands on you again. 

That doesn’t stop Yelena from glaring. It’s like she’s not even blinking while she chokes you in her very vivid imagination. 

In retrospect, everything that’s happened today might actually be your fault. Okay, you should have never read the book, that was on you. 

“What were you thinking?” Strange asks you, and you laugh nervously. He also takes your hand and removes Wong’s sling ring from your fingers. 

“I only read the introduction. When has an introduction ever hurt anyone?”

“The mummy.” Bucky provides for you.

“Evil dead.” Yelena ads. 

“It was the introduction!” You try to defend yourself, but the look Wanda gives you shuts you up right away. 

“It’s done.” Wanda says with finality. “We have to make things right, we can have a meeting about the events that brought us here when everything is sorted out.”

“Where’s Natasha?” You ask when you don’t see her anywhere, and Yelena goes for your neck one more time. 

…

This time Wanda catches Yelena midair, before she gets to touch you and you watch in slight terror as your wife grits her teeth before letting Yelena down with a snarl. 

“Let me go!” Yelena screams, but your wife holds her in place with her magic. “I won’t kill her! I just want to strangle her for a second!”

“I’d watch my words if I were you.” Wanda threatens her, calm and low. 

You’d forgotten how terrifying she can get, as has Yelena, judging by the new look on her face. 

“We know where Natasha is.” Strange intervenes, as you reach out and gently place your hand on Wanda’s arm. 

Wanda gives you a look and hesitantly lowers her arm, letting Yelena free of her hold. You intertwine your fingers through Wanda’s and pull her into you, pressing your lips on her clothed shoulder from behind and letting her know that you’re okay. 

This fear she harbors over losing you is something that you can’t protect her from. She’s lost so much already, a part of her is convinced that she’ll lose you too. 

…

Natasha

Natasha is not sure if the zombies feel lost, or scared, either option puzzles her anyway. 

The thing is---the thing is, the zombies haven’t moved, not an inch. They’re just there, in the street one of your portals obviously dropped them at. They look at each other, look around them, don’t recognize where they are, and they just refuse to move. 

She’s grateful for it, most definitely, but still puzzled. 

“They’re just not moving, huh?” A civilian says, striking a conversation as if he knows her. 

“They’re not.” She confirms anyway. “It’d be best if you leave though. Maybe take your friends with you.”

His friends are a bunch of teens standing a few feet away, as if they’re afraid to come any closer but with their phones in their hands, filming everything. 

“Nah, you’re kidding? I’m gonna record all this!” He exclaims excitedly. 

She’s about to tell him off, but a portal opens up behind him and she sees the team on the other side. 

“About time.” She says, moving towards everyone. “We have a situation here.” 

“Holy mother of God!” You exclaim, hand on your chest and eyes on the zombies. 

“You.” Natasha snarls, making your wife step in front of you again. “I’ll deal with you later.” Natasha says, her eyes never leaving yours. Her very angry eyes. 

You swallow. 

Strange deals with the zombies quickly while Natasha hacks into the security cameras around the area, just to make sure that no one was actually bitten or scratched. 

Natasha is tempted to slap you, she really is, but by the slight bruise on your cheek and the imprint of fingers on your neck, it looks like Yelena already bit her to it. 

She leaves you alone for now. 

…

You

Strange brings Wong along, and the stare he gives you makes you feel like the worst thing that’s ever happened to this team. 

He takes his sling ring from Strange with pursed lips and a glare sent your way. You involuntarily move behind Bucky, but his broad shoulders don’t protect you from the feeling of shame that washes over you. 

They don’t even ask you where you opened up the portals, not that you know exactly, because the sling ring takes Wong to every place you did. 

They spend the entire rest of the day, and night, fixing up the mess you made. 

…

Wanda

Wanda finds you on the roof of the highest building in the Compound, knees pulled up to your chest as you look blankly ahead. 

It doesn’t come easy to you, being part of this life, she’s always known it. 

You’re not a superpowered individual, a genius or a multimillionaire. No, you just happen to be the daughter of a God that left you in the care of Nick Fury when he left this world. 

Fury’s always referred to you as a bit of a loose cannon, saying that olympic blood running through your veins makes you careless to a fault. Wanda knows it’s something deeper than that. 

Calling you a loose cannon or a wild spirit, feels so abstract. You’re the only one left of your kind on earth, abandoned by a father who didn’t deem you worthy of Olympus. 

Careless, you are, but not because you don’t care but rather because of who you are. 

Gods are not meant to live among humans. Gods are not meant to have limitations. Gods never hear the word no. Gods don’t deal with consequences. 

You try so hard though. 

You try to fit in, you try to follow the rules, you try to be part of the team and you try to act like it’s enough. 

She knows you’re sorry, that you regret what happened today and she doesn’t need to tell you how much of a mess you made. You know---you just know. 

She can’t help but contemplate you now, sitting on the edge of the roof, surrounded by nothing but air, wind softly blowing your hair every few seconds. 

You’re the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen--she’s ever touched. 

“Hi, stranger.” She softly says, as to not startle you. You look up at her with red sad eyes, and she feels like melting. 

She carefully sits by your side and wraps her own jacket on your shoulders, before pulling you into her side. 

“How mad are they?” You ask, your cold nose rubbing the soft skin of her neck. 

“No one’s mad, darling.” She assures you, but you remain quiet. 

The air is chilly up here, but she knows this is why you like it so much. She thinks you feel closer to your family up here, your eyes always focus on the same place and she’s certain you can see it, the home you were denied so long ago. 

You mentioned it once in passing, but you don’t like to talk about it. The mount is something so sacred to you, so painful and yet, so beloved. 

“Do you think this is why he left me here?” You ask after a while, and Wanda doesn’t need you to elaborate to know what you’re hinting at. Not when she can hear the heartbreak in your voice. 

“No.” She says after a while. “He left you here because he knew I needed to find you.”

She waits, and waits, and you eventually crack. 

“You’re such a sap.” You tell her, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “Why did I even marry you?”

“I must have bewitched you.” She jokes, and you laugh, and she loves that laugh. 

She loves that carefree-dorky laugh that always manages to warm her up from the inside out. 

“Come here.” She pulls you in for a kiss, hand on the back of your neck and eager to have her lips on you. 

You oblige and kiss her wantonly, with a smile and familiarity. She loves you, she loves the way you kiss her with a laugh and plump lips. She loves the way you fit in with her, like a piece of a puzzle that was lost until you inevitably ran into each other. She loves, loves---loves you. 

“I love you.” You whisper against her lips, as the august wind rattles your hair and the smell of your shampoo invades her senses. 

“You’ll sleep in the guest bedroom for a week.” She finally tells you and the distraught shriek that leaves your lips is most definitely ungodly. 

“I adore you,” she tells you. “But you sent us all through unknown portals after you read a book in the Planet of the Dead.”

“A week sounds reasonable.” You nod right after, and she can’t help but to kiss you again. 

… 

She pretends she doesn’t feel you crawling in your bed in the middle of the night, but she can deal with that later. 

…

[therealslimshakespeare]

We need a dear John sneak like today I’m so desperate😭

Oh my dear, of course lemme get you one sweetie pie, yall have been so patient. Here, have a morsel 🥰 18+ per usual babies

Dear John || Sneak Peak

“Bucky, John, JOHN, MAJOR, JOHN EGAN SLOW DOWN!!!”

Distantly, through a ear ringing fog he could hear them calling his name, there were quite a lot of them and many didn’t really know him, not well, and even those he cared for -Buck and Harry and Ev and Jack- their greetings had turned desperate and they called his name in a effort to stall, not welcome.

But holy shit, she was in England, and he was in England, and fucking fate thought it was real cute to yank the string once more and he wasn’t going to play nice anymore. He was gonna show fate where it could shove its little game of marionettes.

He was gonna keep Julie Jean on the damn ground if he had to climb on the wing of her soon departing jet to do it.

And to do that, to get there in time to do it, he needed to kindly disregard the flock of squawking pals behind him.

“John if you go now you’ll only miss her!” Gale’s rising voice warned, beginning to try to physically restrain his friend’s headlong rampage towards the nearest jeep.

“That one’s low on gas.” Ev helped the cause laconically from the back.

“I’m not just sitting here while she goes-“ Egan informed them without a hitch in his stride.

“Let us send a telegram!” Crosby begged, “She told us to alert her, to call or to wire, anything if you were to come back. Going now you’ll just miss her! Sir, sir please! If I get to her a-a-and you’re on the road w-w-what will I-I-I say?”

“Yeah,” Gale agreed, “gonna make us tell her you’re alive but we don’t have you ‘cause you’re broke down on some backroad in East fuckin’ Anglia ‘cause you couldn’t wait to call?”

“Yeah, think of it Bucky,” Demarco came in to aid his copilot, “it’s sweet but, it’ll suck if she makes it.”

“How’d you let her go?” John suddenly railed at Buck who took it like his decent, patient self in the face of a half starved, lovelorn maniac he was glad to find alive again, who’d only just touched down on English soil half an hour ago and was taking news of his girl being here and then being gone pretty well, all Buckyisms considered, “How could you, when she was here! HERE, Buck! How-“

“She said she hadta go, John, and after everything she did for us, for all of us-“ Gale sighed, “I wasn’t about to ask her for longer. She was in trouble as is, seems, with her mother.”

That seemed to frazzle Bucky worse, even if it shut him up for five seconds of wordless scoffing before, “Trouble? She’s in trouble, yeah, yeah, wanna know what kinda trouble her mother is? Shitty Fucks!!!” he roared at the sky and it was ferocious and crass enough to scare of some of the gathered newbies.

Croz exchanged a glance with a hunger carved Brady, “Shitty Fucks” he repeated, “-that’s a new one.”

Captain Brady nodded solemnly. “Makes one wonder if it’s metaphorical or literal.”

Croz processed this gravely.

“Like is it -a shit lay? or shitty lay, ya know?”

“Gentleman?” Gale turned to them for backup with blatant and frigid exasperation.

[instantnoooodles]

A Driving Force

An ancient ask from an old friend, it came to me in a dream. Viola. 

Gibbs x Reader | No use of [Y/n] | 3.2 k | Mentions of Childbirth, swearing, pregnancy, mentions of sex, fluff with little to no angst

Pregnancy has got you ready to throttle your husband. 

Nearly eight months pregnant, and you are going to kill someone. 

Someone's name is Jethro. 

Jethro, who- after your first baby- thought it would be a swell idea to have another (don't get me wrong, he is more than good at making them, it's the labor and the first trimester that does you in.) Jethro, who is at work and not at home making you tea or rubbing your calves, or doing literally anything other than being at work. It's driving you nuts, and your son may as well be training for the baby Olympics. There's no reprieve, not with a heating pad, not with an exercise ball, not with the piss-poor excuse for a nap you'd tried to take, nothing. 

So you do what anyone would've done: You drive your ass to his work and give the security guards some vaguely veiled threats to let you up to the bullpen. 

And naturally, he's nowhere to be found. 

"I am going to kill that man," you grumble, reclining in his chair, leaning your head back, and closing your eyes. Ironically enough, the background noise helps- you feel more relaxed than at home. 

The elevator dings, and in comes the trio. (McGee- you assume- is down in the lab. Jethro says he prefers it to fieldwork some days.) And- naturally- they're yelling. 

"I had him!" 

"You had shit! That dude outran you by miles! He's halfway to Timbuktu right now!"  

"Dinozzo-" 

"Boss, I am telling you-"

"Dinozzo."

They stop in the bullpen, and you stand, hand over your stomach, and downright glower at your husband. "Leroy." 

Tony's face crumples into something like horror, Kate looks like a bomb might go off, and Jet- well, he looks a little south of terrified. As he should. 

"Sweetheart," He walks toward you, hands outstretched, and immediately goes in for a gentle peck on the cheek. You swat him away. He frowns comically. 

"Your son is driving me up a wall." 

"You shouldn't be driving like this," he reaches down and caresses the bump. Damn him and his soft voice. Usually, you only hear it in the comfort of your home, never at work, and maybe that's what melts your resolve of putting up a fight. 

You sigh, slouching into him and leaning your head into the crook of his neck. He takes it all in stride, cupping his hand on the back of your head, drawing circles with his thumb on that place where the base of your skull meets your neck. It makes you fall apart like a card tower. You groan- he has the decency not to laugh, just winds his other arm around your waist. "Is he giving you a hard time?" It's asked softly, gently, kindly, with all the warmth of a roaring fire and the bourbon in the basement. This is the Jet that makes you question if he's really an agent. 

"He's been kicking my bladder for hours," you groan into his shirt. It smells like sawdust and mint. "You'd think he's training for boot camp in there." 

Jethro rubs gently at your waist- Tony and Kate sit quietly at their desks and have the decency to stop arguing. Tony even takes a field trip to God knows where- it makes you smile. "Better or worse than Dani?" 

Dani is your nearly five-year-old. A bundle of joy and Jethro's entire world, she has a smile to light up a room. 

And a temper to rival Hell, she gets it from her dad, but he handles her well. 

You scoff. "Dani didn't take up gymnastics, and if I recall correctly, you missed the first eight hours of my labor." 

"Twenty more to go- didn't miss much." You smack him gently on the back, and he only chuckles and continues to rub the muscles of your hips and neck. "You damn near broke my hand." 

"Twenty-eight hours of labor, Jethro. You're lucky I didn't break every bone in your body and shoot you." He mumbles something like 'touche', and you stand in silence for a moment. Jet quietly says 'here' and untangles himself from you (you nearly kill him) until he spins around. Facing your back and winding his arms around to your stomach, he reaches underneath your bump, intertwines his fingers, and lifts. 

You come this close to moaning in the middle of NCIS headquarters. 

Jet started doing this sometime towards the end of the second trimester when your bump became less of that and more like a mound. (These days, it feels more like a mountain.) The muscles in your abdomen relax, and the relief is instantaneous. Your head lols back onto his shoulder, and you kiss the underside of his jaw. "Thank you." 

It comes out in a whisper, but he gets the idea and returns the gesture to your forehead. "'Course sweetheart," And then you just stand there. It could be hours- it could be seconds. Realistically, it was probably closer to ten minutes. Jethro is strong, despite his age and his appearance. If you asked him he could probably do this for another hour and then some. Come to think- he'd do anything you asked him to. And you'd do the same, quite frankly, but right now- right now this is plenty. 

Jethro releases the weight of your baby boy slowly, oh-so-gently and it nearly makes you sob (damn pregnancy hormones) and hugs you from the side, careful not to undo the release he's just given you. You peck his cheek, leaning into the embrace, and close your eyes. 

And then water splashes down your leg, down your pants, and onto a puddle in the NCIS bullpen. 

Motherfucker. 

Echoed both in your head and out loud by your husband, Tony chooses this perfect moment to come barreling into the room. "Boss, we got something- oh shit." 

"Dinozzo, go get my car," and Jet hurls the keys at Tony's head. Tony, with all his goofiness and jokes, makes none about the situation and beelines for the staircase, Kate hot on his heels. 

Contraction number one hits with full speed, nearly taking you to your knees, and Jet hugs you around your waist, keeping you from collapsing and yanking the phone from his back pocket. "If the nurse doesn't give me an epidural this time, you have my full permission to shoot them." 

"Yes ma'am," he says, throwing the phone onto his desk. You don't see what he's done with it, you're too busy trying to stand. 

The contraction fades, you rise, and Jethro rises with you. "You're early." 

"Dani was three weeks early," you breathe deeply through your nose and out through your mouth. 

"This is nearly four." 

"Well, then, Jet, get a damn move on." And move he does. He makes sure you're standing steady first, before flying behind his desk to grab a bag. You do a double take. "You keep the hospital bag in your office?" 

He gives you a quick peck on the cheek, slinging the bag over his shoulder and guiding you toward the elevator. "Been with me for two months now, sweetheart." 

You're going to sob. 

Jet's gentle hand on your elbow and back gets you both to the elevator in one piece. An agent- you don't know who- is standing there as the doors ding open. Jethro gives him a look that could freeze over hell as he turns around to ask what floor, and the mystery agent steps out. 

You poke the 'G' button as another contraction punches through you. Jet gets you to lean against the cool metal wall as the elevator begins to move, and you grip his forearm tight. You're not swearing, not yet, just breathing deeply, but at this rate, you'll be calling the doctor a fuckwad the minute you walk through the hospital doors. 

Tony and Kate (bless their hearts) have the car running right out of the elevator in the parking garage. Tony reaches for your arm to help you in but a sharp, "Hands off my wife, DiNozzo!" Stops him dead in his tracks. Kate steps in as Jet throws the bag in the backseat. He opens the passenger door while Kate leads you. 

"You're gonna do great, call us when the baby's here, and we'll handle the case, Gibbs." The last part is directed toward your husband, who takes your other forearm as you sit gingerly in the car. 

He drives like Jethro. Which is to say: Like a maniac. 

You don't complain, even if it feels like you're in the middle of a police chase. He cuts the fifteen-minute drive to the hospital in half, skidding to a halt in front of the maternity wing, and barely remembers to turn off the car before reaching behind him to snag the bag and half-carry you to the doors. You can hardly blink before they've got you in a room, changed into a hospital gown, and are telling you to push.

Mike Leroy Gibbs' labor clocks in at a whopping two hours. 

It's a very painful two hours. Jet may have threatened several doctors and nurses to give you an epidural (who complies, you don't know the details and you don't want to.) They whisk him away to check vitals and clean him up, though Jet also threatens to maim or seriously injure someone if Mike isn't in your arms in fifteen minutes. 

He's returned rather quickly (you have a feeling you'll have to do damage control when you give a shit.) And he is the cutest bundle of warm brown hair and the brightest blue eyes you ever did see. 

You don't let Jethro hold him for something close to an hour, you damn near fall asleep with him on your chest for a little while, but with a soft, "Jet, look at your son." He takes him

Jethro is pretty quiet while he holds him- he was the same with Dani, awestruck by her existence and speechless. He coos at Mike, who's fast asleep, and sways him gently back and forth. He sits down, the armchair pulled as close to your hospital bed as it can get, with one hand cradling your son and the other holding your hand, rubbing gentle circles on the meat of your thumb. 

(You crushed his forearm during labor. Not literally, Jethro is still injury free, but there will be bruises in a few days. He knows how sore you are though, and if he wasn't occupied with his new son, you'd be sure he'd be giving you a massage. He was just as good- if not miles better- than when you gave birth to Dani. He was on a case, deep cover, and didn't get the phone call from Ducky or the hospital until you were well into labor. Ducky's phone call was far more urgent- Gibbs drove at least forty over to get to you.) 

"Jet, I gotta call Donovan, he still has two more days with Dani-" 

"Already taken care of sweetheart." 

You're going to melt. Absolutely dissolve into a pile of lovey-dovey goo. "Thank you." 

He brings your hand to his lips to kiss each of your knuckles. "He's on his way, your brother drives slower than I do-" 

"Jethro, everyone drives slower than you." 

The corner of his lips twitch upward at that, and he doesn't argue. 

The room is... nice. It's the only way to describe it. You feed Mike, and Jet is respectful and goes to find you OJ while you do it. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable, hun. Figured you could just use some time with him, skin to skin." 

Yeah, you're gonna cry. 

You actually do, while he's away and Mike has finished. It's not sad tears, they're definitely happy. When Jethro comes back he seems to know it, you don't even have to say anything, he just sits on the side of the bed, curls an arm behind your shoulders, and pets your hair. There are kisses laid atop your head, and he rubs your bicep. He whispers in his soft voice, the one you're so used to hearing that when you visit him at work his 'Boss' tone makes you do a double take. (Is it hot? Absolutely. But there's nothing quite like the quiet tone he uses when he asks if you're ready for bed.) 

You sniffle, Mike shifts in your arms as Jethro wipes a tear and a series of gentle knocks at the door sound through your hospital room. One, two, three, four, five, heads poke through the sliver in the open door. "Boss? Can we come in?" 

Gibbs looks to you for permission before answering. You nod and smile softly, and he beckons to the agents. Abby and Kate file in first, closely followed by Tim, then Ducky, who holds the door open for Tony, who's carrying two huge plastic bags filled with something that smells magical. 

Abby gives you the first hug, careful to avoid your newborn, she wraps an arm around your shoulder while Jethro untangles himself from you to help Tony. ("Did ya buy enough for the whole wing, Dinozzo?") 

Kate comes in next, taking Abby's place with a hug around your shoulder. You share grins, and she asks you how the labor was- the conversation is easy and nice. (Everyone knows how bad Dani's labor was. You've come into the office a few times a month, usually with coffee or breakfast, or-hell, even dinner for your husband and his crew when the nights turn long. You used to come in once a week during the first trimester. You and Gibbs would be in the NCIS bathroom with your head in a toilet, hair held back, and circles rubbed on your shoulders. Those were rough days.) 

"Do you wanna hold him?" 

Kate looks a little dumbstruck. Ducky and Tim are giving her encouraging glances, grinning ear to ear. "Y-you're sure?" 

You smile up at her, readjust, and hold Mike out. "Make sure to support his head, arm under his neck, keep the blanket- there you go." Kate kinda giggles- a breathy laugh escapes as she turns toward Gibbs and grins wide. He smiles back- then wider to you- and winks. To this day, it still gives you butterflies. 

Kate moves around the room- pacing in circles, bounces your son in the crook of her elbow, and quietly talks with Ducky. Tim comes in for a small hug. "Congrats, Mrs. Gibbs. You feel alright?" 

You scoff and pull him in with both arms. "I'm exhausted- I think Jet threatened someone for an epidural." 

You give him a peck on the cheek as he steps back, unfolding himself. Tim blushes pink and smiles. "Anything I can do? Food? Clothes?" You nearly start crying again. "I make a mean quiche, waffles too- Abby's can vouch for me-"

You laugh (Jethro's eyes light up at the sound, Tony notices.) "That sounds wonderful, Tim. Thank you, I mean it." 

He smiles, genuine, and you get the feeling sometimes Tony and Kate are a little hard on him. Then you remember how they rallied when he was in the hospital from a gunshot wound, and all those thoughts fade away. 

"McGee! Get over here!" Tony yells from across the room, gesturing with a plastic knife. 

Kate comes over to hand back Mike, but you gesture to Ducky. "Go ahead, Duck. I'm sure you've had your fair share of holding babies, don't make me lecture you." 

Ducky smile kindly (everyone seems to be smiling lately, and as cheesy as it sounds, it makes you happy. The my-heart-hurts-with-happiness way. You think the work is thankful, but even that seems too small of a word for what you feel.) Kate hands Mike over, carefully, slowly- his head fits neatly into the palm of her hand, where it waits until Ducky re-settles the blanket over him. 

Duckys' a natural- he sways with Mike and regals him with PG versions of his cases. Mike, sleepy and half-conscious, wiggles out of the blanket and wraps one of his teeny-tiny hands around the doctor's fingers. Abby and Kate coo and fold the blanket back over your son. They wiggle their own fingers at him, but Mike stays sound asleep, shifting minutely in Ducky's arms.

Tony comes in next for a one-armed, light hug. (You suspect Jet is behind that- you pull him in all the same. ) 

"Gibbs mentioned you were hungry," he gestures to the small table ladened with takeout boxes. "Said you were craving pasta." 

You pull him back for another, tighter hug, gifting him with a peck on the cheek too, "Thank you, Tony, that's really sweet of you." 

He blushes lightly, with a smug sort of look on his face. "You guys can keep the leftovers- McGee's idea."

You give his hand a squeeze instead of words, but he seems to get the idea, winking and holding up your shoulders while you sit up as Jet brings a plate over. He doesn't chastise Tony for his hand placement or the still-visible blush painted across his neck and cheeks, but you're more focused on the heavenly-smelling, rich, and sauce-loaded noodles being presented to you. 

You groan. "You are a saint, hun. Thank you." You grab the plate and fork with eager hands. Tony laughs and meanders off to grab a plate of his own while Jet sits on the side of your bed. He's got his own plate- carefully portioned and balanced on one knee as he catches a noodle falling off your fork and nearly onto the sheets. 

"Thanks," you reply with a mouthful, but it comes out more like a grunt. Jet gets the message anyway, smiling down at you. You're more at an even height now that you're sitting up, and you watch cheerfully as Ducky looks to you for permission to pass Mike to Abby. 

Tim and Kate are chatting quietly. They look over at you and Jet once and a while. (You get the sneaky suspicion you won't have to cook or do chores in the house for months.) Tony is still ladling noodles onto his plate, and you watch as he hands a similar one to Ducky. 

You didn't notice when they first entered- or maybe she was hiding it- but there's a little (not-so-little) bag sitting at Abby's feet as she takes Mike oh-so-gently from Ducky. You guess it might be something black- it'll contrast with his eyes, and you giggle internally at the thought. Abby sways over to Tony, rocking Mike in her arms- you think Tony calls him Giblet Number Two, and you roll your eyes playfully. 

It hits you suddenly how happy you are, nearly knocks you breathless as you watch everyone crowd around Abby as Mike opens his eyes. This is... wonderful. You don't have words for it: you have everything you can ask for and more, and Jethro seems to read your mind (as always.) He reaches down to squeeze your free hand, looking sideways through his eyelashes. "I'm proud of you, sweetheart." 

You smile tearily at him. "I know." 

[ladywaffles]

things you said with no space between us + icemav

thank you for the ask! sorry for the delay, i tweaked my shoulder this afternoon and it's been sore all day lol

things you said with no space between us

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, Ice, live a little!”

“It is precisely because I want to live that I will not be getting on the back of that death trap,” Ice says haughtily.

“Can you believe this guy,” Mav cracks a grin at Slider over Ice’s shoulder. Ice doesn’t deign to face Slider, because he knows his backseater well enough to know that Slider is laughing his ass off at the standoff Ice is having with Mav.

“Flies two times the speed of sound for a living, but he won’t even get on the back of my sweet ride.” Mav is all bravado and cheeky grins, and Slider hoots out a laugh.

“If you even think about calling me a chicken, Kerner, I will personally make sure that the next three flights you take are hell,” Ice says coolly. “Don’t forget who you put in the front seat.”

“You’re about to put him in the front seat,” Slider cackles, pointing at Mav. “See you boys in two weeks!”

Slider hauls his pack over his shoulder and saunters away, whistling as he goes.

Ice frowns. “You really couldn’t have taken the car?”

Maverick looks sheepish, a bright blush rushing to his cheeks. “So, about that… I’m not actually licensed to drive a car.”

“You’re kidding, right, Mitchell?” Ice rolls his eyes. “You were just giving me shit about not wanting to ride on the back of your deathtrap on wheels, and you can’t drive a regular car?!”

“But I can fly fighter jets, and that’s why you find me hot.” Mav holds a hand out to Ice. He takes a deep breath and accepts Mav’s hand, holding onto it to steady himself as he slides behind Mav’s body onto the back of the bike.

“Please, nothing fancy, Maverick,” he says, winding his arms around Mav’s waist. It’s kinda nice, actually, not that he’ll admit that to Maverick any time soon, having the perfect excuse to hold onto Mav when they’re in public without worrying about appearances too much.

“I’ll give you the best ride of your life, Kazansky,” Mav says. He doesn’t need to look at Mav’s face to know he’s wearing a shit-eating grin.

“You are the most immature man I’ve ever met in my life,” Ice grumbles.

“Yeah,” Mav says as he kicks up and revs the engine. “But you love me for it.”

Ice hooks his chin over Mav’s shoulder, so his lips are right by Mav’s ear. He might not even be able to hear him over the sound of the engine roar, but his heart is too full right now to hold it in. “I do. Love you, that is.”

The full-body shiver that runs down Mav’s spine tells him that his message was very clearly received. He hides his smile, pressing his forehead to Mav’s shoulder, and they ride off just as the sun crests over the horizon. He’s right where he’s meant to be.

send me a pairing and a number!

[roadkillxd]

Oh okay, thank you for replying :)

So for the request I was thinking of alpha simon riley (ghost) x alpha john price x omega pakistani!ftm reader (they are already married/dating). Where again reader also works in the forces (air force) and both all three have a mission they go to but when reader is in air on the coms he hears that they can't get in contact with ghost, john or any of their team members making the reader worry, reader goes back to the base only to fin out his partners haven't shown up yet, so basically angst but they show up after having near death experience. Reader doesn't stop himself from running up to them and hugging both ghost and john but when they get to their bed chambers both john and ghost realize that there is something going on with the reader but is not telling them so when he asks the reader what's going on the reader tries to dodge their question but they figure it out that reader is still scared so that ensues the smut with softdom ghost and john with teasing (basically they use toys and not letting reader orgasm), orgasm control and over stimulation with aftercare.

I'm sorry if this is confusing or too specific, if you don't feel like writing it then it's cool. I hope you are having a good day/night.❤️

-🦝

Okay, I was planning on working on a different request but I was already writing this one in my head and couldn't stop thinking about it. I didn't include A/B/O dynamic or sex toys this time just 'cause that's what my brain was telling me to do. Also nothing explicitly mentioning the reader being Pakistani but nothing disputing it either! AND I ADDED DADDY KINK. OKAY SORRY I'M DONE NOW. ENJOY.

Price x Ghost x FTM!Reader ↪ 2511 words — 18+ / SMUT & ANGST.

Content tags — trans male submissive reader, cis male dominant Price, cis male dominant Ghost, implied that Ghost is submissive to Price, fem terms used to describe trans male reader's genitalia, referenced/implied character death, ghost x price, subspace, unsafe sex, crying, daddy kink, mild overstimulation, orgasm delay/denial, established relationship, penetrative sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, fingering, analingus, and double penetration. 

You’d watched the building fucking explode.

Cover of night, lights off sort of deal, just high enough where no one would hear the roar of your jets. There was a rudimentary airstrip about three klicks from the warehouse where the boys were to rendezvous for extraction once the place was cleared. In the meantime, you had thermal scanning the building, picking up the faint traces of heat inside, radioing back and forth with the ground team to give them heads up on the possible targets within. 

One second Ghost’s halfway through a sentence and the next your comms are filled with nothing but static. Something rocks against your jet, the force of it shaking your flight pattern—every meter hitting zero and every instrument light going dark before all suddenly sputtering back to life, lighting up like Christmas. Minor EMP blast.

You look down at your thermal wide-eyed just as a flower of red blossoms at the center of the warehouse before flourishing through the entire screen, body heat indistinguishable from the screaming orange flames you now see engulfing the building. 

You press your communicator.

“Ghost, how copy?”

Static.

“Lieutenant? Captain? Do you copy?”

Static.

“Anyone—” your voice cracks and you swallow, head filled with so much noise your thoughts go quiet.

The missile-lock sensor begins screaming, a sharp intake of breath filling your lungs as you slam your accelerator, barrel rolling to the side before pulling up hard enough to make your head spin as the missile whistles past.

You pull back, letting the plane arch before nose diving, jets sputtering and choking off as you take one more careful look at the raging fire, and with a muttered curse and the sound of the missile-lock sensor, you pull up—near skimming the tree line as you take off towards the base, jet flame catching on the dry pine. 

It was times like these that you were no good in a plane.

*

With comms dead around the warehouse you had to get pretty close to base to call for backup. By then, and taking relations into account, Laswell wouldn’t let you assist.

For a second you considered insubordination.

For a second.

You don’t know what state you’d be in if you went and… there was no one to assist. No one to save. Your brain so, so loud you hit the runway hard, the plane bouncing and a sharp reprimand from the tower that you can barely hear over the static in your head, like the EMP scrambled that too.

You shower, and then they make you do paperwork. You take it to the little office you share with Soap—the office that barely sees any use. It takes you two hours to fill out the first page. 

Through the glass and down the hall comes the dull sound of laughter, rich and smokey. It’s Price’s laugh, and for a moment, you pay it no mind, memories foggy and blending at the forefront of your mind.

And then there’s Soap’s laugh, too, and it’s closer, and piercing enough for you to look up at the clear door with big eyes, unbreathing. 

The door clicks open, and in peaks Soap’s big stupid head.

“Knock knock…”

Ghost is the one to reach over his shoulder to push it the rest of the way open. You nearly hop the fucking desk, shouldering hard past Soap to grab Price by the face and slamming your lips against his. Then you turn and throw your arms around Ghost, the man letting out a grunt but picking you an inch off the floor just to hold you tighter.

“What the hell am I? Chop liver?” Soap jokes, jokingly offended and with a big smile on his face. 

Ghost puts you down and you turn on Soap, grabbing his hand to pull him into a quick hug.

“Shut up, I already know you’re explosion proof. These are the two I have to worry about. You fuckers scared me.”

“Aye, well you’re not the only one, Ghost here—”

“Enough,” Ghost barks and Soap shuts up with a smile, leaning in to faux whisper to you.

“Shoulda seen him when we couldn’t find yer plane, thought you went down.”

You see Ghost roll his eyes out of the corner of yours.

“That EMP was shit,” you say, “takes more than that to crash me.”

*

The four of you discuss for a short while, Price’s hand eventually finding yours, interlacing your fingers as you talk. Ghost’s staring at you, taking you in, like he’s committing it all to memory—like he’s worried he’ll forget if he doesn’t. 

Soap agrees to finish up the mission report for you, considering he was actually on the ground when everything went to shit. Usually, Price or Ghost would argue, always trying to keep Johnny away from the paperwork, but Price squeezes your hand and Ghost nods and then the three of you are wordlessly heading down the hall toward the Captain’s room.

You lay on the big bed as the two men take a short shower together, and you can only remember how fucking awkward they look cramped into the small space. A smile tries to weakly tug at your lips, though it quickly drops as your eyes flutter shut in what you can only word as despair. 

You could’ve lost them.

They climb into bed with you, sandwiching you on either side, warm bodies bruised but surprisingly intact considering. Ghost presses to your back, long limbs tangled with yours, Price at your front. They whisper little, meaningless conversation and you monotonously nod along.

You’ve seen them die before, in your dreams. Your nightmares. It’s always in your arms, hot blood seeping wet into your clothes and skin. You get to see the light fade from their eyes, and they tell you they love you with a final rattling breath.

They don’t go in a ball of flame. They aren’t there one second and gone the next, words left unsaid. Not even meaningful ones. 

You could’ve lost them.

“Love,” Price’s voice is gruff, and his calloused hand brushes your cheek, “you’re shaking.”

Ghost is quiet, but you can feel his thumbs rubbing absent circles into your hip bone. You turn your face away, trying to bury it against the pillow. You’re not gonna cry—you don’t want to cry in front of your superiors. It doesn’t matter what they are to you, you won’t do it.

“Risk of the job,” you choke out, “I should know better. I’m fine.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

“It’s….okay. To be afraid,” Ghost finally says, voice low and steady. Slow, like he’s thinking carefully about what he says. It’s not what you expected him to tell you, if anything at all, “it’s a part of the job, it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t, or doesn’t, hurt.”

Price hums in agreement, pinching your chin to turn your face toward him again. The tears streaking your face makes his heart break. He kisses your nose.

“We’re here now. We came back,” Price leans down to capture your lips in his, slow and deep, tongue licking into your mouth as your lips part to the intrusion. Ghost’s pulled his mask up just enough to bare his own, sucking kisses against your neck. Price pulls back, deep blues shining, “I can’t make promises, but we’ll always fight like hell to make it home to you.”

Your skin buzzes, your brain filled with a new kind of static—one safe and belonging. You feel warm, and like you’re attached, melting against the two men sliding their hands over your body. 

Ghost’s left hand snakes up your chest, reaching around to cup your throat, pulling you from Price’s needy lips to his own, kissing you hard and messy, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling. You moan into his mouth, hips rocking forward to rub your aching core against Price’s muscle-corded thigh.

You could’ve lost them.

You grip tight to Price’s flexing bicep as he fingers your cunt open, stretching your hole on his thick fingers. Ghost’s moved down the bed, body awkwardly angled halfway off the mattress just to get at your ass, tongue licking insistently at your puckered hole. You’re so overwhelmed, moans and cries and whimpers falling from your lips unbidden, the both of them working you open for their cocks.

“Our beautiful boy,” Price groans, voice so low and gravelly it makes your insides melt, pussy leaking out a gush of slick that has Price chuckling, “y’like that, huh? ‘Course you do.”

There’s scratch marks on Price’s arm now, welting up angry and red—marks you know he’ll wear proudly. It makes you dizzy, caught between rocking down onto Price’s probing fingers and back onto Simon’s freakishly long tongue.

You can feel the pressure building up in your core, moans coming quicker and quicker. Simon slips two fingers in alongside his tongue, your walls clench tight around Price’s digits, so close to coming when—

The captain pulls his fingers free and you sob out in frustration, hips rocking uselessly to try and find more stimulation, Simon having pulled back to nibble at your cheek as soon as Price had slipped free.

“What the fuck,” you cry. 

Price tsks at you, holding your chin firmly to hold your gaze steadily. His expression is schooled, the only signs of arousal are his blown pupils and the tiniest bit of flush dampening his cheeks. 

“Behave,” he says, voice stern. The tone makes your eyes nearly glaze over, and he can’t help the soft smile that splits his features at the sight. 

“C’mere,” he urges, grabbing your hand to guide it down to his own briefs, his cock half erect and pressing against the fabric, “get me nice and hard, love.”

You whine, fumbling with the hem before pulling his cock free, Price groaning low and deep when you gather your own slick on your fingers to stroke him with. It doesn’t take him long to get fully hard, prick twitching in your grasp. Simon’s still absently stretching your ass, keeping your arousal simmering without pushing you over the edge.

You’re so turned on, begging for them to fuck you, core aching from the lack of stimulation. You consider it a mercy when Price finally guides your hand away and shifts forward, cockhead rubbing delicately over your clit and making you shutter.

He grips his own dick, holding it steady as he teasingly slides it between your slick folds, catching on your hole every now and again to make you whimper. 

You feel Simon shifting back up the bed—feel his hard cock slick with saliva rubbing insistently at the small of your back—can’t help but moan at the thought of him stroking himself while eating you out. 

Price pushes at your hole a bit, your body instinctively tensing as the tip breaches your tight walls.

“Relax,” Simon growls low in your ear, licking at the shell, “gonna be good for your daddy?”

You moan, and Price chuckles.

“Jesus Christ, Si,” he breathes, sounding put out, but you can feel how his cock pulses at the word as it slips deep into your cunt. 

He doesn’t give you time to adjust—knows you don’t need it with how slick you are, how lax your body got at the simple command from Simon. He pumps his hips into you slowly but with considerable force, rocking your body back against Simon’s, who’s holding you tight against his broad chest as he whispers filth into your ear.

“Cunt’s so loud, sweetheart.”

“Bet you feel so good ‘round his cock, huh?”

“He’s so big, isn’t he? Fuck, you sound so good.”

That fire fans bright in your tummy again, sending liquid arousal through your body as you near your orgasm yet again. Your back arches, clenching down tight on Price’s cock, making him growl.

And then he stills his hips, and you want to fucking scream.

“John, please,” you beg, fully crying now.

“What, love?” He teases, leaning down to kiss at the slow forming bruises left behind by Simon, “you have to tell me what you want.”

“Please, please, please,” you whine, the only word able to break through the haziness of your brain. You can feel Simon’s cock against your back still, twitching excitedly at your pleas.

“Hmm,” Si hums thoughtfully, trailing his lips down and across your shoulder, taking a moment to capture Price’s own, a short-lived moment of intimacy between them, “I think he wants his daddy to fill up his lil’ cunt, isn’t that right?”

You keen, nodding, and Price chokes on a groan, his cock pulsing within your walls.

“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, Simon,” he complains, face flushes red and buried against your shoulder now.

“You’re the one getting off on it,” he replies, like you can’t feel him leak precum against your spine every time he says the word.

“Christ alive…” Price huffs, pulling his face away from you to glare, “are you gonna help me fuck him or not?”

You can feel Simon lean down, a sharp smile pressed against the back of your neck—like a predator's maw at the throat of its prey—as he guides the tip of his cock to your fluttering hole. You squeak and Price smiles.

“Atta boy…”

The words have both you and Simon groaning.

You can feel the both of them snug within your walls, how they rub against each other through your flesh. They can feel it too, the tight fit of your body accentuating each of each other’s movements. 

They fall into a synchronous movement, Price pumping in as Ghost draws out, and so forth, making your head spin with pleasure, denied your orgasm twice now with legs shaking from the desperate need to cum. 

The both of them coo and praise, touching your body all over. You watch with half lidded eyes when Price reaches past you to grip Simon’s ass and force his hips forward, both of the men buried to the hilt inside of you as they make out, tongue and teeth and violence. The sight has you clenching up again, and Price pulls away with a cackle at the feeling, Si doubling down to fuck into your ass hard and fast.

Price’s hips move in sharp contrast to Simon’s movements, slow and steady, his hand squirming down between your bodies to rub at your cocklet with a calloused thumb. You nearly scream as you cum, your body squeezing down tight around the two men’s cocks, milking the both of them.

Price cums first, spend thick and sticky as it dribbles out past his prick and down around your thighs. You can hear him mumble something to Si you don’t quite make out past the fuzz in your ears, and then Simon is choking on a gasp, hips stuttering before burying to the hilt, rutting as he cums as well. 

You could’ve lost them.

But they’re with you now, arms wrapped around you, mixing sweat and cum and tears. You quickly fall asleep, the both of them still snug inside you.