#-AGGRESSIVELY GRABS HOLD OF HANGMAN

[jetblack4realz]

lake days iii - jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary - jake becomes a regular to your family's adventures and a regular in your life

warnings - def no

word count - 4.5k

pt i , pt ii , pt iv

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when jake was the first one pushed into what was deemed the 'murder tube', he was less than pleased. it was a rather large blow up toy, looking like saturn with a big ball in the middle and a ring surrounding it. there were handles every so often, meant for five people to ride, but he was certain that they wouldn't be enough to keep him from flying off.

you jumped next to him, gripping a handle next to him to keep from slipping down as you shot him a quick grin. "you ready?"

"as i'll ever be," he grunted, looking up quickly as he heard his name called.

"catch me," finn instructed the man. jake scooted forward, holding his arms out as logan gently tossed finn into the tube. jake grabbed him around the middle easily, shooting the boy a grin as he helped him maneuver to his own spot on the tube.

"leila, you gonna come sit with me?" you asked, holding your arms out. she smiled, jumping to join you just as logan leaned to give her a boost. your eyes widened as you moved to catch her quickly, sitting her next to you. "you gotta hold on tight, okay?"

brynlee stepped on in between her kids, the final circle complete as darren pushed you guys off. finn was practically shaking with excitement next to jake as the man wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"i don't think you're ready for this guys," brynlee mused with a laugh as you looked over at jake.

"i beth i'll sthay on longer than you," leila taunted in her usual lisp, grinning at jake.

"game on, sister," he said back, returning her excited and slightly competitive smile. seeing him with the kids made your heart warm and you were sure brynlee could tell based on how she was grinning at you.

logan called back to make sure you were all hanging on tight, receiving five confirmations and an eager yell to start from the five year old.

jake turned his attention to you, smirking a bit as he leaned towards you. his voice lowered as the boat started off slowly: "i bet i'll stay on longer than you."

you leaned closer to him, smirking as well. "game on, hangman."

his brows furrowed, surprising you as he pulled his head away. "i like it better when you call me jake."

"what?" you asked, but suddenly you'd gotten up to speed and your attention was on the handles to your sides. leila shrieked in excitement next to you as the tube started to rotate on the ball part, spinning the five of you.

"oh shit!" jake yelled leaning towards you to keep from falling on finn.

"language!" you laughed, your face falling suddenly as you got dragged the opposite way.

logan was not afraid to pull you guys quickly around the water, even though his own children were on it.

you realized later that maybe it was because they were his kids when brynlee and leila switched out for everleigh and kyrie and he slowed down his rather aggressive efforts. jake enjoyed it more that way, taking the time to mess around with finn and trying to stand up. he pulled at your hand that was closest to him, resulting in you smacking him instead.

he laughed, dramatically holding his bicep before turning on his stomach with his feet against the middle and offering his hands to you and finn. logan was still going slower and not making aggressive turns, but you both saw him acknowledge jake's newfound confidence and reach for the throttle.

he held a hand out to you. "you gotta keep me on!"

he was eying you with a little smirk, nodding at his hand as he shook it in front of you again.

"you wouldn't want me to fall off now would you?" he asked.

"you'd be surprised," you answered with a laugh.

"grab his hand!" finn shrieked as the tube started moving faster, spinning as it grazed the water. jake grabbed your hand instead, pulling you swiftly off of the little grip you had on the tube and down onto the ball next to him.

"jake!" you yelled, reaching for a handle that was slightly too far over as he laughed, managing to grab onto one finn was supposed to have a grip on but was holding onto the other with both hands instead.

you held his hand tightly in yours, pulling yourself closer to him when you started to slip down. when logan pulled the boat straight again, you let go, jumping forward to grab your handles again just as it flipped on its side.

you dangled off the edge, feet skimming the water with a yell. jake and finn laughed loudly before they got flipped over too and you all three were just hanging on for dear life as everleigh giggled from the other side of the tube.

you hit a large wave and saw finn go flying, logan immediately pulling the boat to a stop as you pulled yourself back up. you rounded back to where finn had landed, gideon pulling the boy out of the water as he giggled.

"that was fun, dad!" he yelled as he sat next to his mom on the seat.

"yo, you two are out!" darren yelled as gideon climbed onto where finn had been.

you laughed as you climbed out, taking your teenage brother's hand to step onto the surf deck. you turned to help jake back on as darren replaced you, but he was standing on the edge of the tube, back to the water. he winked at you, mock-saluting before back-flipping off the edge.

you cheered, clapping as he emerged from the water, his hair in his face. he wiped it back as he swam towards the surf deck, accepting your hand as you pulled him up to stand in front of you.

"you're so cool," you told him with an amused grin.

"i know," he said, winking before crossing by you and dragging you to the front of the boat. instead of sitting in the designated seat across from brynlee, he sat where you had before with his back to the bow, patting the spot next to him. you obliged, letting your legs lay across the seat as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. you leaned your head on his, making direct eye contact with brynlee and kyrie who'd traded her spot to leila. their grins are spread the widest you'd seen all weekend.

you just rolled your eyes.

you and jake didn't get back on the tube for the rest of the drive and when you returned for lunch you spent it laid on the surf deck, a sub sandwich in your hands and sunglasses on your noses.

well, each other's sunglasses. he had insisted the moment you pulled yours out that he take yours, smiling cheesily as he explained how you liked his better anyways.

after lunch you messed around on the kneeboards again, spending most of your time bullying gideon with splashes and crossing in front of him to mess up his board. darren went with jake and bullied him, you yelling all your techniques to jake with an amused grin as you leaned off the back of the boat.

that weekend was finished with more boat rides, tubing craziness with your nieces and nephews, and a final family barbecue. throughout the last two days your sister-in-laws wouldn't get off your back, always making sure to note how comfortable you seemed around him and he with you. between the small smiles, inside jokes, and hugs the two of you shared they were certain he was smitten with you.

"he's just... jake. he's jake, this is how it is," you told them, eyes lifting to where he was throwing a football around with barrett, who had a lot of pent up energy from staying on the beach with his pregnant wife and was excited to have you all back to mess around. jake tried to run from finn and keep the ball from the boy, but pretended to let him overtake him and steal it from his hands. it brought a smile to your lips, something they wasted no time in pointing out.

"you're in love with him," kyrie insisted. "and i can't blame you there, sweetheart. he's the picture of a gentleman, is so sweet with the family, obviously cares about you so much, and gosh is he a looker."

"no," you laughed with a shake of your head. "i mean, yes. but, we're friends. good friends. i could never change that."

"hey darlin'," jake said with a grin, standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders, rubbing mindless circles with his thumbs. "are you ladies talking about me?"

"definitely not," you laughed, while alice just smiled and nodded a, "maybe?"

he looked down at you with raised brows, his grin widening slowly. "all good things i hope?"

"they're convinced that we're a thing," you told him simply. it was not the answer he expected, that was for sure, but it didn't keep him from smirking and looking to the other women.

"whatever do you mean?" he asked, playing coy as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before running off to where logan had joined josh and finn in football.

you sighed as he ran off, watching as he barreled into your big brother's side, grappling for the football before finn slipped between the two, pushing it out of their hands and into his own. you couldn't help the smile that returned to your lips. you didn't even look at the girls surrounding you, instead holding up a finger as you continued to watch jake play around. "don't even. i know."

when you returned to your house, you desperately wanted to clear the air. all the little touches, teases, kind words, and the wonderful way he treated you and your family was getting to your head. this was hangman, he couldn't be seriously into you. you, of all people, his wingman, a navy girl, and someone you never would assume he would go for normally.

"you're really good with finn and the kids," you told him with a smile as you tossed your keys on the kitchen counter. "i didn't know hangman seresin had a soft side like that."

he laughed lightly, resting his arms on the countertop as he stood across from you. "yeah, i guess i do."

"what were you saying earlier..?" you asked, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "about me not calling you that?"

"calling me what?"

"hangman," you answered quickly. "i mean, i always call you hangman."

"nothing," he hummed. "just weird hearing my callsign when we're not on base."

"i'll stick with jake. if you want," you offered.

"whatever you want to call me i'm fine with darlin'," he told you, smiling gently. "but i'd be lying if i said i wasn't partial to jake. or babe. or honey, darling, sweetheart, husband." he continued on, earning a laugh from you as he grinned at you.

"husband is crazy," you told him, the smile never leaving your lips. "at least take me to dinner first."

"that can be arranged." he leaned closer to you, his smile infectious as ever. you breathed an awkward laugh.

"you serious?"

"why wouldn't i be?"

"because you're hangman."

"jake," he corrected. "and i would love to take you out to dinner. on a date. as soon as possible."

"are you serious?" you laughed again, his eyebrows shooting up as he joined in your laughter.

"yes! dead serious, i want to date you y/n," he told you.

"oh, more than one date," you teased.

"if you'll have me," he answered and you realized that he was, indeed, serious. "this weekend of seeing you with your family just solidified what i already knew about you. you're funny, and sweet, and adventurous, and if i'm being completely honest, seeing you play with the kids is the hottest thing i've ever seen you do. next to you surfing yesterday - you really know how to work a surfboard, sweetheart."

"yeah, i do," you agreed with a laugh.

"so," he started. "you think you'd go on a date with me?"

"when would we even have time?" you asked, reminding him of the mission you both were set to begin that thursday and would take at least three weeks.

"well," he hummed, moving around the counter to stand in front of you, glancing back at the time on the stove. "right now works for me."

"jake, it's seven o'clock and we have to leave early for work tomorrow morning," you said, letting him take your hands.

"didn't say we had to go out. we've had a very busy day, i'm happy to order us a pizza and we could watch a movie," he suggested.

"jake seresin doesn't want to go out?" you mused with a short giggle.

"jake seresin just wants to be with you," he answered quietly, smiling softly at you.

"i've liked seeing this side of you, jake," you told him, squeezing his hands. "it's always been easy hanging out with you, but the way you've been treating me - i like it. i like you."

"is that a yes to pizza?" he asked, grinning.

"yes," you laughed. "you order it, i'll get the movie up, and then we'll get started."

"sounds like a plan," he said with a nod. as you stepped away, he pulled you back, hand dropping yours and coming to your cheek as he tugged you close and pressed his lips to yours. it was short and quick and he was grinning widely. "been wanting to do that for a while."

"well i've been wanting to do this," you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close, indulging him in a much longer, much sweeter kiss than he'd initiated before. he smiled into it, arms around your waist holding you against him.

when you pulled away he pulled you right back in, earning a smile from you. you slid your hands down his shoulders and onto his chest, pushing him away slowly. he chased after you, kissing you one, two, three times before you finally stepped away with a giggle.

"i didn't expect this weekend to end this way, but i'm so glad it is," you told him, pressing another short kiss to his lips. "now, go order a pizza and i'm gonna pull up a cheesy romcom that is gonna show me if you really like me or not because you'll watch it with me."

"i'll watch it," he told you. "hell yeah, i'll watch it."

"good, it has ryan reynolds in it and it's my all-time favorite," you laughed.

"well, now that i know it has ryan reynolds in it i'm definitely watching it," he told you, kissing your lips again with a smile. "want hawaiian?"

"how'd you know that?" you asked.

"it's the only kind you ate when they bought us pizza after deployment," he answered with a shrug.

"you're my favorite," you laughed.

jake saw your family frequently in between missions over the next few months. they occasionally took the boat out for a saturday and a time or two you stole it away from logan's house using jake's truck to just go out yourselves. the lake was your favorite place to be, jake quickly learned. and you quickly learned that the wilderness was jake's.

it was a few weeks after a month-long, carrier-dwelling mission that you couldn't tell finn about even though he asked a million times, that jake was on another adventure with your family.

darren had suggested that you bring him along on a four-wheeling escapade with logan, josh, your dad, and one of darren's friends who'd grown up with you all. gideon had returned to houston, so it was back to just the four of you siblings. jake was a little offended you hadn't suggested this before, but you simply hadn't thought of it. whenever you had a full day off with guaranteed no calls in you really only thought of your boat.

jake drove to pick you up, then back down the road to your parents' place to collect the atv's. he'd begun driving you everywhere as you searched and searched for a suitable truck online. you didn't want to blow $13,000 on a brand new ford, and frankly you didn't like the look, but you wanted a cool truck that could pull the boat.

jake had managed to find an old 1986 f-150 for sale by a guy the next town over for only $2,000. it was old and beat to crap, with a few engine problems, but he insisted that he could fix it. when you told him it was a little small to tow the big ole boat trailer, he only looked at you with a grin and said, "well, that's fine. my truck can pull it." you'd never felt more attracted to a man before. and frankly, the promise that he'd be around long enough for you to rely on that made you a little giddy inside.

"my favorite brother-in-law!" darren exclaimed as you and jake hopped out, a laugh on your lips already.

"y/n, when did you get married?" his friend, frankie, asked you with furrowed brows.

"i'm not married. this is jake, my boyfriend."

"he's a pilot like y/n," darren said with a wicked grin. "only a lot cooler."

"that is so rude!" you exclaimed, whacking him in the shoulder.

"nice to meet you," frankie said with a laugh, shaking jake's hand.

"where's dad?" you asked.

"just gassing up the quads," darren told you. "got the side by side too if you and jake wanna take that."

"why? where's my quad?" you asked quickly, eying the boy accusatorially.

"in the garage. don't know if it still works though, you haven't been around to drive it," he hummed, looking to the side dramatically.

"oh that's bull, i know you've been driving it," you told him.

"it's cooler than mine!" he sighed.

"then buy a cooler one, you can't drive mine," you said.

"i tried to get dad to buy a 600 like yours but he said it was too much," he answered.

"that's because you weren't the one buying it," you said with a roll of your eyes. "i had to buy a quad for myself when i was your age if i wanted to ride with the boys."

"i can't afford it!" he cried.

"because you spend it all on food," frankie said, causing you to laugh.

"seems fitting," you hummed. "you take the side by side with frankie and then josh can take yours."

"why does he get mine?" he asked.

"because his is broken and you have a guest, so suck it up."

you all approached the toy garage where your dad, logan, barrett, and josh were waiting.

"hello jake," logan said, smiling as he clapped hands with the man at your side.

"what's up, dude?" jake said, nodding at josh and barrett as they all got on their respective quads.

you skipped up to your black and blue beauty of a four-wheeler. "hello sweet thing!"

"you are my favorite person ever," jake mumbled in your ear as he grinned at your excitement. he'd never been with a girl like you, so adventurous and well, texas.

you laughed as you climbed on, patting behind you for jake to follow. he joined you, arms resting on his thighs next to you.

"you been four-wheeling before, right jake?" barrett called from next to you.

"of course i have, i am from texas after all," he answered with a grin.

"good, you'll have fun with the trails we've got over here," josh said. "maybe not with y/n's driving, though."

"what?" jake laughed, looking at you. you shrugged.

"i'm a little more... conservative with my driving," you told him.

"but you're crazy driving the boat?" he said.

"yeah, well, falling in the water hurts a lot less than falling into the mud," you said.

jake laughed loudly. "just don't be dumb and you won't fall off."

"you calling me dumb, seresin?" you asked, turning to look back at him.

"not yet, we'll see after this," he answered, smirking.

"come on lovebirds!" darren yelled, soaring past you as you quickly started up the quad. logan, barrett, josh, and your dad all followed after him, you taking the back.

you all started down the back trails of the forest, the beautiful pines zipping by as jake wrapped his arms around you, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

"you really are slow, aren't you? taking the back so you don't slow down the group," he hummed, chuckling in your ear.

"it's more scenic," you said, having to yell a bit over the wind. he pulled away from your ear, laughing.

"sure it is."

the views really were beautiful though, as you all followed darren and frankie up to the top of a hill you all called olympus, since it was the highest point on your property. well, that you could reach on the quads at least.

jake's arms stayed wrapped around you even though you definitely weren't going fast enough for him to have to. he was warm against your back and you were not complaining, just enjoying the feel of the wind on your cheeks and your boy behind you.

there were a few times that your brothers stopped for a minute, sending dramatic looks your way as you pulled to a stop. "what?"

"hurry up!" logan called, zipping away quickly as jake laughed, squeezing your waist.

"catch him!" he encouraged, but you still waited for everyone else to follow him the rest of the way up the mountain.

once you reached the top, you all got off your rides and stood out over the edge.

"pretty, ain't it?" you asked, coming up next to jake with your arm around his torso. he wrapped his around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"not as pretty as you," he whispered.

"you did not just say that!" yelled logan as darren and frankie laughed next to him. josh and barrett just exchanged grins, your dad rolling his eyes at the boys' antics.

"leave them alone," he told them. "don't want to scare him off."

"i don't scare easy, sir," jake said, turning to face them with a grin. "if the boat trip wasn't enough to prove it, i've got a few tricks up my sleeves when it comes to quadding."

"you want to drive?" you asked with brows raised.

"of course i want to drive," he answered.

"let's do it then," logan said, climbing onto his quad with your dad behind him. "let's see what jake's got."

"come on," jake whispered, quickly mounting the quad with you behind him and starting it up. "hang on."

and he was off. you squealed as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, looking around as he expertly descended the mountain. there were beautiful fields around you, stray cows munching on the grasses, but jake wasn't interested in that area. nope, he wanted to get into the real trails. he turned right, zipping into the forest, rocks trampled under the big wheels and jake grinning as he dodged puddles.

he wasn't sticking to the trails, moving around the edges and dodging between trees and rocks. he was focusing more on the off-roading portion and not enough on the speed part when josh suddenly rode past him. as per most situations, jake took this as a challenge.

he turned back onto the trail, following josh as he directed them back out onto your main riding trails out by the meadows. the road widened and jake took the opportunity to pass josh, mock-saluting him as you cheered.

"you can always drive!" you yelled over the wind as you leaned into him.

"oh, we doing this again?" he teased.

"as much as you're willing for as long as you're willing," you answered.

it had only been a few weeks, but you and jake spent even more time together than you normally did, with a lot more intimacy than normal, and you were loving every minute of it. he squeezed one of your hands around his torso and you could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, "i'll always be willing, darlin'."

you rode around for a few hours before you had to be the one to drag them back to the house. "i've got to go buy me a car."

"you're actually getting yourself a car?" darren asked. "you ain't driving mom's old thing around anymore?"

"jake found it. old 1986 ford f-150 some dude is selling for $2000," you answered as jake parked the quad back in the garage.

"does it even run?" josh asked with a chuckle. "no way you're getting a vintage ford for that cheap."

"well, it's brakes are crap, transmission might be blown, and the upholstery is so trashed, but for what they're asking for and the condition the body is in i am willing to pay to have it fixed," you answered.

"a blown transmission? you know how much that will cost?" logan asked.

"like, my monthly salary," you sighed. "but i really love it. and it's blue and white, it's literally my dream."

"i'll do the work on it, so that'll save on mechanic prices," jake said.

"you know cars?" your dad asked.

"i like to think so, yeah," jake laughed. "worked to get a '92 silverado running when i was in high school and fixed up a '78 bronco for my pal in the navy a year or two ago. better with the old ones than the new."

"me too," you dad smiled, high-fiving him.

"so, we will see you later," you said, giving your dad a hug and waving to your brothers before walking backwards to jake's newer f-150. you waved to frankie. "good to see you frankie!"

jake grabbed the door for you before hopping in on his side and following your apple maps' directions to where the guy selling the truck lived.

"you wanna do the negotiating?" you asked him hesitantly as he held your hand over the center console. "i don't really know cars and i don't wanna get screwed over here."

"yeah, i got you baby," he said, shooting you a smile. "i'm pretty good at talking down a price. especially if we're gonna be investing a lot of time and money into it."

"you really don't have to," you told him. "it's gonna be a lot of work and a lot of time. i don't want you to have to spend your weekends off working on my truck."

"you willing to help?" he asked, grinning as he watched the road.

"well, of course."

"then i'll be spending my weekends with my girl, fixing a truck. it's every guy's dream, darlin'," he answered. you laughed.

"if you say so."

"and like i've said every time you drive anywhere, i can't be seen in a crappy old subaru. it's damaging to my ego."

this made you laugh harder, him squeezing your hand as you whacked him in the arm. "whatever."

"really, though. i'm happy to do it. happy wife, happy life," he hummed with a smile.

"take me out to dinner first, seresin," you said, grinning.

"still haven't been able to do that, have we?" he asked.

"nope. we prioritize take out and movies over a nice restaurant apparently," you hummed.

"and four-wheeling."

"and boating."

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Forgotten Nest (Part 8) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 4.7k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Parental Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles; Crying; The Uranium Facility Mission; Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: The uranium facility mission commences.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

Master List

Cora stood at the window of her home. It was barely light and she was still dressed in her pajamas. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stepped out onto the front deck of her home, and closed the door behind her. Stepping further out onto the deck, she stared in the direction of the Naval Air Base, trying to hold herself together.

She hadn’t slept last night. Not after her talk with Nickie and her discussion with her dad. Glancing down at her fingers, she tried to rub the blue ink out of her finger pads. The ink was still wet when she handed that photo to Maverick for the transfer. He shot her a look that she didn’t have the stomach to return and pulled her into a tight hug before he was gone.

Letting out a shaky breath, Cora turned back to the Naval Air Base to see an F/A-18 take off. And then another. And then another. Slowly sinking onto the front steps of her home, Cora watched them fly off before slowly lowering her head down into her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks.

~~~~~

Bradley rifled through his small bag, moving to grab his sleep clothes. Omaha was already in his bunk behind him, but Bradley’s mind was racing too fast for him to fall asleep quite yet. The mission was set for tomorrow and they were simply getting into position tonight.

Reaching for his toothbrush, Rooster paused and frowned when he felt his hand brush against a thick piece of paper. Pulling it out of his pack, Rooster paused when he realized that it was a photo. A photo of him and Cora at their senior prom.

How did that get into his bag?

Flipping it over, Rooster’s eyes quickly landed on the blue ink on the back of the photo. It was slightly smudged and the letters were written in haste, but it was clearly Cora’s handwriting. He knew it all of these years later.

Nickie told me about your meeting. Come home safely and we can talk.

Rooster flipped the photo over again, remembering that night vividly. He and Cora spent the whole night together, never wanting to leave each other’s sides, and caught up in the kind of love that only teenagers seemed to experience.

And bile rose in his throat when Rooster did the math in his head.

Cora was probably already pregnant in these photos. And it might just be the closest that they would ever get to having a photo of all three of them.

~~~~~

Maverick stared out at the assembled aviators in front of him with his hands folded calmly behind his back. This was the moment. He knew that someone wasn’t coming back from this mission and now he had to pick the pour souls who would be on the chopping block, all of which had families and friends back home waiting for their return.

The foxtrot teams were a simple choice. Speed and accuracy and ability to react quickly were his main criteria for that. Picking the single flier was the difficult choice. The one that would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. However long that might be.

Hangman was the answer on paper—he flew the fastest and the most aggressively, which was what the mission called for. But no one trusted him to cover their backs. Coyote was out. The G-LOC incident grounded him. And between Fritz and Rooster, Rooster had the better stats and repertoire with the foxtrot teams. So, the answer was there. He just had to make it.

“Rooster,” Maverick called after Cyclone’s prompting.

The initial shock that Rooster wore on his face was clear as day, though he quickly shoved it behind the mask that all of them were wearing during the briefing. The mask that all aviators forced themselves to put on before every mission.

Rooster and Maverick locked eyes for a moment, a silent conversation passing between them. The more sheepish, guilt-stricken side of Rooster stood out more than Maverick had seen since the incident seventeen years ago. And from what Nickie said, Maverick knew that it was genuine. He just wished that it happened sooner.

Then Nickie and Rooster could have actually talked and learned about each other. Rooster could have made it up to Cora and that stress could have been off of her shoulders years ago. And then they could have been just like any ordinary family of three.

But things were never simple in the Mitchell family. Nor were they easy in the Bradshaw family.

Maverick nodded to the gathered aviators before making his way to the locker room, leaving Rooster standing there, a bit lost.

~~~~~

Rooster stepped out onto the flight deck, gripping his helmet loosely and clearly lost in his thoughts. He wasn’t expecting to be chosen. Not after everything that he and Maverick had put each other through over the years, and especially in the last few days. Not after he coasted his way through the training runs, never quite pushing it like Hangman did.

He didn’t think that he was good enough for this mission. And yet here he was.

Picking his head up for a moment, Rooster paused when he found Hangman standing on the deck in front of him, a serious expression on his face. Gone was the arrogant edge that made Rooster want to knock his teeth out ever since he met him. No, for once, Hangman actually looked like a team player. Like someone who cared if everyone came home.

“You give ‘em hell,” Hangman yelled over the roar of the engines, before making his way to his plane.

Rooster barely even acknowledged Hangman as he walked away, too caught up in his emotions. Nickie wanted to see him. Cora wanted to see him. Maverick chose him out of the line up of the best aviators in the country. Hangman was actually believed in him.

Rooster was so lost that it was a miracle he didn’t fall off the side of the ship.

Righting himself, Rooster turned and walked over to the plane adjacent to his own. Maverick was running through the pre-flight checks on his own aircraft when Rooster approached him, a bit more frantically than he intended.

“Sir? Sir?” Rooster called, causing Maverick to turn around to face him. “I . . . I just want to say—”

The orders over the comms cut off Rooster’s apology and automatically snapped both aviators into action. Maverick, seeing the shakiness to Rooster’s expression, took charge.

“We’ll talk. When we get back,” Maverick assured Rooster, who nodded curtly in return.

Maverick watched Rooster turn around and head for his own plane. Letting out a breath, Maverick looked to the ground, shaking his head before moving around to climb into his plane. Maverick didn’t want to lie to Rooster. But he wanted to protect him even more.

And, so, he lied.  

~~~~~

Nickie sat out on his surfboard, staring out into the Pacific Ocean with a far-off expression in his eye. The waves passed harmlessly under him, tickling his calves, but not pushing him hard enough to snap him out of his daze. Maverick was somewhere out in the Pacific in that direction. Bradley was somewhere out in the Pacific in that direction.

And Nickie hated waiting. He hated not knowing.

“Hey, Mitchell!” one of the other surf team boys called, breaking Nickie out of his trance. “Let’s go!”

“Right,” Nickie breathed out, blinking rapidly.

Turning to shoot one last look in the direction of the Pacific, Nickie paddled forward to catch a wave, ignoring how his stomach was knotted uncomfortably with stress.

~~~~~

Maverick signaled to the deck crew that he was prepared for launch before grabbing the handle. Forcing himself to take a breath, Maverick closed his eyes for a moment, picturing Nickie and Cora back home, safe and sound and taken care of, before he opened his eyes, completely focused on the mission directly in front of him.

“Watch over ‘em, Ice,” he murmured, before his plane was launched into the air.

~~~~~

Cora stood on the sand with Penny, watching Nickie surf with the other surf team kids. The two women had barely talked since Cora arrived, both caught up in their own thoughts. Cora wrapped her arms around herself, watching Nickie surf through the waves, though not as well as he normally did. He was distracted, she could tell, and the realization made her heart ache.

“He’s doing well,” Penny commented, causing Cora to nod slowly.

“But he’s not in it,” Cora stated softly, turning to face Penny. She gestured to the open ocean in front of them. “His head’s out there.”

“Can’t blame the kid,” Penny replied, just as Nickie wiped out.

Cora held her breath until Nickie resurfaced, completely unharmed, but just a little sheepish. Settling back down, Cora pursed her lips together and stared out at the setting sun in the distance. Penny reached out and wrapped an arm around her, giving Cora some support.

They didn’t need to discuss it. They both saw the look in Maverick’s eyes when he said goodbye.

“I think I’m going to take Amelia on a sailing trip,” Penny suggested, causing Cora to nod in return. “Did you and Nickie want to come?”

“No, thank you though,” Cora replied softly, turning back to her son. “I’m worried that Nickie would go tumbling off the side at this rate.”

“You know that I’m always here for the two of you.”

“I know, Penny. Thank you.”

Cora turned back to the waves of the distant ocean, unable to help the tears building in her eyes. Silently letting them drip down her cheeks, Cora let Penny pull her into a tight hug as the two women tried to hold themselves together for the sake of their children. And, frankly, for themselves.

~~~~~

“Dagger Two defending!” Rooster called out, spotting the SAMs behind him. Slamming his fist into the flares button, Rooster cursed when none popped out. “Shit! I’m out of flares!”

“Rooster, evade, evade!” Maverick yelled back, quickly turning around to help.

“I can’t shake them! They’re on me! They’re on me!” Rooster warned, going through evasive maneuvers.

Maverick didn’t hesitate. He just moved.

A thousand thoughts were flying through his head as he sped towards Rooster. Goose’s face. Carole’s face. Cora’s face. Nickie’s face. Oh, God, Nickie. Racing to protect his best friend’s son and his grandson’s father that he barely knew, Maverick hurried to get into position.

Rooster had to live. He had to live. He had to make it right with Cora. He had to make it right with Nickie. He had to live. He had to survive.

The sensors in front of Rooster started to beep aggressively, warning him that the SAMs were getting closer. Maverick yanked back on the joy stick, using the cobra maneuver to fly up above Rooster. Slamming his fist onto his flare button, Maverick released the flares behind Rooster, protecting him from one of the SAMs.

But Maverick’s own sensors started to blare as the second SAM flew forward.

“Mav!” Rooster screamed out in a panic.

Maverick grunted as the SAM hit him directly in the back of his aircraft. His plane broke apart and he started hurtling towards the ground in a great ball of fire. Sensors beeped all around Maverick as he released the joy stick, submitting to his fate.

And just before it all went back Maverick swore that he heard Nickie’s voice calling out to him.

~~~~~

“Penny said that she’s taking Amelia on a sailing trip,” Cora told Nickie softly as they packed up his gear to head back home. “Did you want to go?”

“No,” Nickie replied quietly, shaking his head. “I think that I just want to stay home.”

“We’ll do whatever you want to do, okay?” Cora assured Nickie, forcing a small smile.

“Do you think we could get those burgers at the diner that Gramps likes?” Nickie asked as he opened the passenger door.

“I thought that you hated those burgers,” Cora replied quietly, staring over at her son. “You always said that they were too greasy.”

“I know, but . . . Gramps always like them,” Nickie returned softly.

Trying to not let her lips wobble, Cora forced a smile and grabbed Nickie’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. Turning on the car, she faced forward to try and get control over her emotions.

“We’ll get some burgers then. For your Gramps.”

~~~~~

Maverick sprinted through the thick snow, powered by sheer determination. Every few steps he took, Maverick did a quick calculation about how much farther Rooster was and about how long it would take to get to him. His first aid training ran through his brain too.

Was Rooster hurt? Did he land safely? Did he eject safely? Maverick didn’t have the answer.

Spotting Rooster upright and kneeling in the snow, shoving down his parachute, Maverick felt new energy course through his veins. Rooster was alive. And he wasn’t hurt too bad based on the way that he was kneeling. He was alright. He was going to survive his ejection.

“You alright!?” Maverick yelled, hopping over a snow bank.

“Yeah, I’m good. You alright?” Rooster called back, right before Maverick pushed him straight into a pile of snow. “Jesus! What the hell!?”

Rooster yanked his helmet off and shoved it into the snow. Maverick slipped his off as well before turning to give Rooster the scolding of a lifetime.

“What are you doing here!?”

“What am I doing here!?” Rooster squawked back indignantly as he stood up.

“You think I took that missile for you so you could be down here with me!? You should be back on the carrier by now!”

“I saved your life!” Rooster snapped back.

“I saved your life! That’s the whole point.” Shaking his head incredulously, Maverick turned back to Rooster. “What the hell were you even thinking!?”

“You told me not to think!”

Maverick didn’t have a response for that, simply breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. Rooster nodded sarcastically, throwing his arms up in the air, before slamming them back at his sides. Both Maverick and Rooster breathed heavily, looking around the forest for any hostiles, before turning back to each other.

“You were supposed to go back to Cora and Nickie,” Maverick sighed, staggering a bit. Squatting in the snow, Maverick looked up at Rooster, who stared back evenly at him. “You were supposed to go back and make it right.”

“I am going to,” Rooster vowed, straightening up. He looked around the forest again before returning his gaze to Maverick. “But it wasn’t going to work without you.”

Maverick let out a breath, dropped his head down onto his hand. Rubbing his face as he tried to catch his breath properly after sprinting a couple miles at his age, Maverick picked his head up to find Rooster already offering him a hand. Taking it, Maverick accepted Rooster’s help up and dusted some of the snow off of his flight suit.  

“She’s going to kill us when she finds out,” Maverick stated, glancing around the forest.

“If she finds out,” Rooster suggested, causing Maverick to nod in agreement.  

“Well, it’s good to see you,” Maverick replied with a small smile.

“It’s good to see you too,” Rooster returned, setting his hands on his hips. “So, what’s the plan?”

~~~~~

Cora looked up from her computer when one of the nurses at her office rushed into the room that she was charting in. Immediately assuming that something was wrong with one of the patients, Cora leapt to her feet, ready for action.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You have to come see. Room 22.”

Cora quickly rushed down the hall, overtaking the junior nurse. Opening the door to the patient room, Cora stepped inside, expecting to see a swarm of doctors and nurses, but all she saw was her dad, dressed in his flight suit, waiting for her on the patient bed.

And in that moment, Cora wasn’t thirty-four. She was a little kid all over again.

Letting out a choked sob, Cora raced across the room and threw herself into her dad’s waiting arms, completely unaware that her coworkers were filming the whole thing. And she was even less aware that there was another surprise guest waiting for her in the corner. Unable to help the tears of relief, Cora let her dad rock her back and forth.

“I’m alright,” Maverick chuckled, hugging his daughter to his chest. “Just a few bumps and bruises.”

“I know that you’re hiding injuries from me, but I don’t even care right now,” Cora sobbed, unwilling to let go of her dad. “You’re home. You’re home.”

“We’re home.”

Releasing her dad, Cora wiped some of her tears away and turned to see Rooster standing in the corner, also dressed in his flight suit. It took her a second, a painful second where Rooster wondered if she was even happy to see him, before Cora took off again. Running into his arms, Cora buried her face into Rooster’s shoulder, and Rooster quickly returned the hug.

Wrapping her arms around him tightly, Cora breathed in Rooster’s cologne, soothing herself just a bit more. They were home. They were safe. They were alive. There wouldn’t be a funeral. There wouldn’t be a burial. They were here.

“You came back,” Cora whispered shakily, causing Rooster to hug her tighter.

“I wasn’t going to leave you guys. Not again.”

Cora nodded against him, letting out a shaky breath. Maverick smiled at Cora and Rooster’s embrace as he stood up. Cora and Rooster broke away, both turning to Maverick.

“So, how’re we going to surprise Nickie?” Maverick asked, wearing that iconic mischievous smirk.

~~~~~

Nickie walked up to the side door and unlocked it, heading inside after taking the bus home from school. He locked the door behind him and went about his usual after-school routine as if it was a normal day. Dropping his backpack onto one of the chairs, Nickie turned for the fridge to grab a snack. He opened the fridge door and frowned when he found a note waiting for him with his mom’s handwriting.

“Turn around?” he read aloud, confused, before doing as the note said.

Nickie had a split second to register who was standing behind him before sprinting the last few steps over to his grandfather. Maverick laughed as Nickie had to bend a little to give him a hug and rubbed his back as Nickie quickly sobbed into his shoulder. Cora held a hand to her mouth, happy tears coming to her eyes as Nickie reunited with his grandfather.  

“You’re alive,” Nickie croaked out, hugging his grandfather just a little tighter.

“Well, apparently, I refuse to die,” Maverick returned, causing Nickie to laugh a bit shakily.

“Does Mom know that you’re here?”

“Yeah, she’s right there.”

Nickie looked up from his grandfather’s shoulder to see his mom standing there with tears in her eyes. Cora waved to Nickie before he looked beyond her and spotted another figure standing there. Rooster stayed back, knowing that Nickie didn’t exactly view him as a dad but more of some kind of random stranger that bumped into his life unexpectedly.

But after Nickie gave his mom a quick hug in greeting, Nickie turned to face Rooster on his own. Rooster stood a bit nervously as Nickie stopped a few paces away from him. He wasn’t sure what Nickie’s reaction was going to be to his presence. But after what seemed like a century passed, Nickie reached forward and gave Rooster a hug.

Rooster froze for a moment before hugging Nickie back even stronger, far too emotional to do anything else. It was the first time that he held his son. His kid. And his son willingly hugged him. Rooster couldn’t help but let a few tears out during the moment. And Nickie, for his part, didn’t seem to want to let Rooster go either.

Amelia was right, Nickie realized with some apprehension. He really would have beat himself up for the rest of his life if he didn’t talk to Rooster before he left on the mission. Not that it mattered now, because Rooster was here. And based on the way that Rooster was hugging him back, Nickie had a feeling that Rooster was around to stay.

Cora shared a smile with Maverick as they watched Nickie and Rooster embrace for the first time ever. Maverick squeezed his daughter’s shoulder as she dried her eyes again.

~~~~~

There was a cook out on the beach with the whole Dagger crew in a post-mission celebration. Penny pulled out a grill from somewhere in the Hard Deck and Maverick was nominated to do the grilling for the whole team, which he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

The rest of the Dagger Squad and their guests were spread out over the patch of sand, talking and chatting with each other and simply enjoying the San Diego sun. Cora stood to the side of the volleyball court a short walk from the grill, smiling to herself while she watched Nickie and Rooster work together to try and beat Harvard and Yale.

“Ms. Mitchell?” a voice called from her left, causing Cora to turn.

“Admiral Simpson,” she returned, straightening up subconsciously as Cyclone stood beside her.

“It has come to my attention that your son, Nickie, wants to become an aviator,” Cyclone began, causing Cora to pause for a moment.

“Yes, I believe that he does,” she replied quietly, fiddling with her necklace.

“Well, if he’s anything like his family members before him, he will one day make it to Top Gun.”

“That is his dream,” Cora echoed softly.

“Can you do me one favor, Ms. Mitchell?” Cyclone asked her after a moment.

“Sure,” Cora responded, turning to face Cyclone fully.

“Please inform me the second that your son gets his wings. So that I can immediately put in my retirement notice,” Cyclone emphasized, causing Cora to bite her cheek to not burst out laughing. She simply nodded instead, trying to hold it in. “Thank you.”

When Cyclone walked off, Cora let out a quiet laugh to herself. Shaking her head, she turned back to watch the volleyball game. But it seemed that between being Maverick’s daughter and the mother of Rooster’s secret love child, she was a popular person around the Dagger Squad.

“You must be the lovely Cora that we’ve heard so much about,” Hangman drawled, walking over to her.

“And you must be Hangman,” she returned, gazing at him curiously.

She didn’t get much of the details about the mission—considering it was top secret and all that—but the way that Maverick talked about Hangman led her to believe that something happened on the mission that fixed Maverick’s and even Rooster’s perspective on him.

But that grin that Hangman only told her one thing—he was trouble. Luckily, Cora was a Mitchell. She was natural at being trouble. It was in her genes.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he stated, offering her a hand to shake.

“Likewise,” she returned, shaking his hand politely.

“You know, I have to say that you are far more beautiful than anyone described you as,” Hangman flirted, causing Cora to cock an eyebrow.

“How badly do you want Rooster to lose this game?” she asked, tilting her chin up a bit.

“About twenty bucks worth. Forty, actually,” Hangman replied, waving over to Coyote and Phoenix.

Phoenix shook her head in disbelief, probably waiting for Cora to knee Hangman in the balls, while Coyote seemed to be struggling to contain his laughter. Remaining poised, Cora turned back to Hangman as he continued with his explanation.

“That is, if Rooster comes and tries to rip my head off,” Hangman replied with a wink, causing Cora to smirk to herself.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Rooster.”

“Your dad’s all the way—ow!”

The volleyball smacked right into the back of Hangman’s head, causing him to whirl around, rubbing his head. Nickie, who was originally wearing a look of death, immediately put on an innocent smile when Cora and Hangman turned to him and waved sarcastically.

Nickie, after all, was a mama’s boy. A mama’s boy who knew that men liked to lurk around his mom.

“Sorry!” Nickie called over.

“It slipped because of the sunscreen!” Rooster covered for Nickie, holding a thumbs up.

“Sure, it did,” Cora replied, shaking her head. Turning back to Hangman, she offered a smile. “I think that means that you only get twenty.”

“Great shot, Nickie!” Penny praised, clapping loudly for him.

“Any chance that you’d like a drink?” Hangman asked, trying to make just a little more money.

Up until Rooster hit the volleyball, which had rolled back to him after hitting Hangman in the head, into Hangman’s back, causing Hangman to roll his eyes. Rooster waved innocently, not unlike his son did moments before, as Cora shot him a look.

“Sunscreen again!”

~~~~~

Eventually, the teams broke for food. Cora sat on the beach chair that she brought along, chatting with Bob and Phoenix, when Rooster slowly approached her. Phoenix nudged Bob in the side and they both made lame excuses before heading off, leaving Cora and Rooster alone.

“Is this seat taken?” Rooster asked, gesturing to the seat next to her.

“It looks like it’s about to be,” Cora replied, nodding towards it.

Rooster sat down and the two of them shared a small smile for a moment. It was still a little awkward between them, and there was no way really around that, but it was getting better. It was getting more and more like old times. Bradley was reminding Cora more of the Bradley she knew before Carole died, and that in of itself made her so happy.

“They asked us if we had a preference for where we wanted to be stationed,” Rooster began, causing Cora to sober up a bit.

“And?”

“I talked to Cyclone about it. He couldn’t guarantee North Island, but he said that he would make sure that I was in California,” Rooster explained, causing Cora to smile and nod. “And I know that you have work and Nickie has school, but we could drive out to where we grew up and show Nickie all of that and . . . my parents and that sort of stuff.”

“I think that Nickie would really like that,” Cora agreed, smiling softly.

“And you? Would you like that?” Rooster asked quietly.

“I’d love that,” Cora stated, causing Rooster to grin.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I would,” Cora repeated, smiling over at Rooster, who beamed right back at her.

Maverick watched Rooster and Cora chat over by themselves, relived that the two of them were talking and seemed to be getting along again. Penny nudged him with her arm, causing Maverick to turn to her. She pointed over at the volleyball court, where Nickie was holding up the ball.

“Hey, Gramps! One more game?” Nickie asked, grinning mischievously.

“Easy game!” Fanboy heckled, causing Maverick to laugh and slowly get to his feet.

“Alright, one more game, Nickie,” Maverick replied, jogging over to his grandson. “But we can’t go easy on them, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Nickie agreed, smirking that iconic Mitchell smirk.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

A.N. So, that's it! The main part anyways! Epilogue is inbound, and should be posted soon! Thank you to everyone who read this series and especially those who reblogged and commented on all of the different chapters! I hope that you enjoyed it!

Tags: @xoxabs88xox @eternallyvenus @mygyn @kmc1989 @thegoddessc @midnightmagpiemama @badasspizzalover @praline357 @oatmealisweird @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @abaker74 @avengersfan25 @yogabigooby @daisydaisygoose @sgt-barnesveins @angelbabyange @percysaidnever @artemissunn @indiestrashfire @kidd3ath @luv4kani @lt-spork @brooke-stinson

If I forgot you in the tags, don’t be afraid to ask again because I’m definitely scatterbrained when it comes to that but please have a reference to your age somewhere on your blog (bio, pinned post) or just message me because you will not be tagged otherwise.

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

(Rooster and Hangman have locked themselves out of their house while their baby is inside) Rooster:...OK, Maverick is gonna be here any minute. And he has a spare key. Hangman(panicking): Alright, I can't - I can't wait that long! You have to do something--knock that door down! Rooster: I would, but I bruise like a peach. Besides, y'know, everything is gonna be fine. The baby's sleeping. Hangman: What if she jumped out the basinet?! Rooster(deadpan): Can't hold her own head up, but yeah jumped. Hangman: Oh my god, I left the water running! Rooster: Jake, you did not leave the water running. Please, just pull yourself together, okay? Hangman: - Did I leave the stove on? Rooster: You haven't cooked since 2017! Hangman: Is the window open? Because if there's a window open, a bird could fly in there!

Rooster(putting his ear to the front door): Oh my god, you know what, yeah, I think you're right. I think .. listen, listen! A pigeon! No, no wait, no-no, an EAGLE flew in! Landed on the stove and caught FIRE! (Hangman glares at him) Rooster(continuing):...The baby, seeing this, jumps across the living room into the kitchen to the mighty bird's aid! The eagle, however, misconstrues as an act of aggression and grabs the baby on its talon! Meanwhile the faucet starts to fill the kitchen with water. Baby and bird still locked in a death grip, swirling around the whirl pool, that fills the house...! Hangman:.......Boy, are you gonna be sorry if that's true.

[dingochef]

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation, Comeplay

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: A rainy day and a random board game lets you and Jake to get to know each other better and more intimately.

Masterlist

Truth

"El, I'm bored," Jake whines from the couch where he is stretched out. You're assuming he's still there because the back of the sofa blocks your view from the kitchen. All you can see of your very tall muscular aviator boyfriend is his bare feet kicking, only slightly like a petulant toddler, in the air as he restates his current state of boredom.

"It's one day of rain, Jake. Even in San Diego it happens," you say, advancing out of the kitchen with a beer and a gin and tonic. He rolls over as you approach and perks up when you hand him the beer, an aggressive IPA he's currently obsessed with. He sits up taking the drink from you. You plunk yourself down on the couch and his arm automatically goes around you.

"Enjoy the down time, we're caught up on laundry, worked out this morning, have dinner ready to go in the oven. It's 2 pm on a rainy Sunday and we have no obligations. Let's just chill and enjoy doing nothing," you say.

"Fine, I'll take your offer of cuddling with my smoking hot girlfriend and day drinking," he sighs. You sit contentedly for a few minutes listening to the rain before Jake gets antsy again.

"Let's do something," he pleads.

"How about a board game?" you ask, not entirely sure where that idea came from.

"We have board games?" Jake asks.

You nod and pop off the couch striding towards the guest room.

"In here," you say and point to a cardboard box in the bottom of the closet. Jake pulls it out and opens it up. He pulls out a few classic games and holds them up for you to consider, including Monopoly.

"Nope, last time I played that two people got into a fist fight and we had to find an emergency dentist" you reply and Jake puts it down on the growing pile.

The usual classics like Risk, Life, and few others join the stack.

A devilish and wide smile blooms on his face,

"Oh I think we're going to play this one, El," he says, grinning as he holds up a hot pink box the size of a deck of cards that says,

"Only the Truth, X Rated Edition."

"Oh my god," you groan, "I thought I got rid of that."

You reach for the box but Jake stands up and holds the box up high above your head. He uses every one of the eleven inches he is taller than you to evade your grasp.

Crossing your arms, you give up. The urge to climb him like a tree fading as you try not to pout,

"Lydia got it for me as a gag gift. I can't believe I still have it."

Jake reads the back of the box, in a low sultry voice,

"Get to know everything spicy about your lover or someone you hope will be with this fun and exciting game. Easy setup and clothing optional."

He wags his eyebrows at the last sentence.

Rolling your eyes, you agree,

"Fine, we can play it but you have to make the next round of drinks."

Jake snickers,

"Because making a G&T is sooo hard," he grabs your hand and pulls you to the couch. He rips the box open and peels off the plastic wrap. You pick up the folded paper directions and read them.

"Umm, we can either go through the deck in order increasing 'spiciness' or," the sound of shuffling cards distracts you, "Mix them up."

You look up and Jake is sheepishly neatening up the cards on the table. "Well that decision has been made," you sigh,

"Says everyone has to answer the question, truthfully."

Jake nods and draws a card. He snickers,

"Well that's a doozy to start with. Worst sex partner.”

You take a swig of your drink,

“Second serious boyfriend in college. He was just lazy, only liked missionary and would do this weird horizontal thing every other thrust. It did nothing for me. Once he’d come he was out andI had to take care of myself. We didn’t last long after we started sleeping together. Not the greatest kisser and never gave me oral. My rule is that I have to get oral before I give. So you were a wise man to go down on me right away.”

A smile blooms across Jake's face as he relives the exact moment you're referring to.

"Your turn," you tease in a sing-song voice.

He takes a breath and groans,

“My first one night stand, while I was at Academy. Went home with a local girl and she just kind of laid there despite anything I tried to do, not that I was the most experienced at that point in my life, but I was enthusiastic. When we went doggy style, she moaned so loudly kind of like a donkey every time I pushed into her. It was distracting and weird. When she finally came, she didn’t make a sound and then just got out of bed and left me to my own devices. Yeah, that was definitely the worst.”

You snicker at the thought of a young Jake trying his hand at sleeping around. It's your turn to draw a card and you pull one of the garish pink cards off the deck and read aloud the question,

"Who was your first kiss? Huh, that must have been one of the starter questions."

“Sandra Leonard, 6th grade at a dance. You?” Jake responds.

“Mark Simmons, Homecoming dance, sophomore year of high school," you answer.

“A bit of a late bloomer?” Jake asks.

“Yeah, I didn’t really have time for much social stuff when I was training for the Olympics. Your turn.”

Jake pulls another card,

“What is your favorite genre of porn?"

“Ooh, good one. I’d probably say Gay," you answer, enjoying how Jake’s eyebrows raise.

“One, the guys are always hot and hung,” that earns a hearty laugh from him, “The guys are genuinely aroused and actually get off. There’s no exploiting a woman just for a man’s pleasure. Everyone enjoys themselves.”

He considers your words and nods in agreement. There is a brief gleam of mischief in his eye as takes a swig of beer before answering the question,

"Granny."

You're not smooth enough to school your facial features into a neutral look, whatever thought you're having is on your face making Jake laugh.

“Just kidding, I’m a pretty straight laced guy, usual man/woman couples, lesbian, and solo women.”

“Those are pretty mainstream, although that would have been the time to slip in any weird fetish you’ve been holding back. Not to kink shame you or anything."

Jake laughs,

“I promise you don’t have anything too crazy in the spank bank, just being around you is enough to get me going at an instant.”

He leans over to kiss you, the taste of the IPA heavy on his lips.

"Mmm, you taste like a pine tree. My turn!"

You read the next card aloud,

“Who was your first steady boyfriend/girlfriend?”

“Tiffany Meadows, she was my girlfriend through high school. We broke up when we went away to college. Thanks or no thanks to Facebook, I know she is happily living as a suburban stay at home Mom in Dallas with three kids.”

“Melvin Markham, freshman year of college. He was a fellow gymnast at Notre Dame. He was two years older than me.”

Jake draws the next card,

“Who'd you lose your virginity to and where?”

“Melvin, freshman year, he lived off campus. Couldn't get away with a lot of the dorms at Notre Dame, nuns and other minders everywhere.”

“I’m just laughing at the idea of you sneaking around nuns to get sexed up.”

“The joys of going to a Catholic university.”

“Sounds more strict than the academy. Which is saying something.”

“Your turn.”

“Tiffany, my senior year of high school, in her bedroom when her parents were out of town for the weekend.”

Jake picks up the next card,

"Have you ever slept with someone of the same gender?"

"First of all, what a heteronormative question, but yes I have slept with a woman, once."

Jake perks up,

"Details, please."

You pause, and then tell him,

“You have to swear never to let anyone know, especially the person I’m going to mention and their significant other. Swear you won’t.”

You hold out your pinky for the most solemn of all oaths, Jake laughs at your seriousness and agrees,

“Pinky promise.”

“Lydia and I had sex one time in college," you blurt out, enjoying how Jake's eyes bug out a little as he tries not to spit his poorly timed sip of beer out. After a few coughs his look shifts as he is probably imagining you and Lydia having sex. You give him a mock slap to stop his imagination running away on him.

“I don’t think you know, but Lydia is bisexual. She’s had a few girlfriends here and there but has tended towards men in the past couple years. Well, we were a little tipsy one night in my dorm room and Lydia confided in me she was attracted to girls, but was scared to do anything about it. She was afraid of getting involved with a girl and getting to that stage and realizing that it wasn’t for her. My tipsy brain, plus it almost feels like a rite of cliche passage for college girls now, thought the perfect solution was for Lydia and me to mess around for her to see if she liked it and I was curious too. It was good, a lot different than being with a guy, all soft and smooth versus hard muscles and stubble. I like being penetrated too much to be exclusively a lesbian, good for you.”

“What happened the next morning? Did things get weird?” he asks, his curiosity getting to him.

“It was surprisingly okay the next day. Lydia said thanks for helping her figure out some stuff. I let her know it wasn't my cup of tea, but that I was glad she got to explore that with someone she trusted. I think our friendship is so strong that that bond prevailed rather than a romantic or sexual one.”

You can tell Jake’s mind is blown.

“That’s incredibly…sweet in a way. And yes I’m glad you enjoy dick, specifically my dick.”

"You're welcome, now it's your turn.”

“Nothing quite as poetic as yours, but a few things have happened at sea. It’s really hard to say no to anyone who wants to suck your dick, female or male, when you’ve not had sex for months. You say yes and it feels polite to at least reciprocate a hand job.”

“Makes sense, and seems like a nice thing to do.”

You pull the next card,

"What sex act do you want to try?"

"I really want to watch you get yourself off, the whole thing without any help from me. I know you have some toys, but never seem to bring them out during sex."

"I didn't know you'd be okay with that."

"Want to see how you use them, give me some ideas for later. Plus it'd be like my own personal porn."

"Okay, I think I can do that."

Jake looks at me,

"What do you want to try?"

"I like the idea of some roleplay." He raises an eyebrow,

"What specifically?"

"Like the idea of us meeting up somewhere at a bar as strangers and you picking me up for a one night stand. Maybe fucking in the parking lot."

"I like that idea, we can definitely work that one out,"

The rain starts to come down harder, a dull roar on the roof.

You put your drink down on the table and take Jake's beer to join your glass. Your hands free you move to straddle Jake's strong thighs,

"All this talk of sex stuff has got me going, you want to check?"

Jake's hand slides down under your dress, up your thigh, and to your warm core. His jaw flexes the moment he realizes you forwent underwear. A strong finger ghosts over your clit causing you to gasp and slides into your wet opening.

"Fuck, El, you're soaked."

"Want to try out your idea?"

Jake nods enthusiastically,

"Yes, El, whatever you're comfortable with."

Slowly you stand up and pull Jake up with you. He follows you as you lead him by the hand to the bedroom. You pull the armchair that usually sits in the corner of the room to the foot of the bed and motion for him to sit. He complies and adjusts himself when he sits down, just the initial idea getting him excited and starting to tent his pants.

After arranging the pillows on the bed to your liking you pull out your trusty vibrator. The ridiculous pink and sparkly coloring a bit much in the muted daylight of the bedroom. The lube is fished out of the top drawer of your nightstand and placed on the bed next to the toy. Jake is watching you intently as you go through your preparations; finally you strip the dress you have on, letting it fall to the floor as you slide onto the bed naked.

"You okay, El?" Jake asks, soft concern on his face.

"I'm good, Jake. Enjoy the show," you respond. Leaning back into the pillows, you have your legs modestly together still, knees touching. You know that you wouldn't go through all these motions if it was just you, but that's the fun of the fantasy, everything is just a bit heightened, a bit more production value.

Making sure your supplies are within arms reach you start to caress yourself, long sweeps of your body and curves. Your hands glide over your breasts, down the slope of your stomach, to the outer and inner reaches of your thighs, but you don't touch your pussy yet.

The soothing touch entices you to close your eyes and just enjoy the sensations of skin on skin. On your next round your hands stop on your breasts, cupping them and rolling your nipples between your fingers gently. The action pulls a light moan out of you and for the first time since you started Jake speaks,

"El," he rasps, his voice thick, "Talk to me, tell me what you're thinking about, what you're imagining."

A slight flush creeps on your cheeks, somehow this feels so much more intimate than some of the things you done with Jake and you realize because he's really the first person you've ever let this far into your life, your mind, and your heart. You trust him with all of you, so you take a little settling breath and start to talk, with your hands squeezing your tits and nipples.

"I love how big your hands are, how they feel on me. How you can just cover big parts of my body with one hand, makes me feel protected."

You let one hand slide down to your apex and gently part your folds and your legs finally open to Jake's gaze. A deep groan resonates from the end of the bed when your legs fully part exposing your glistening cunt.

You tease around your pussy, letting your fingers dance on your lips as you hold them open with your other hand.

"The way you eat my pussy like it's your last meal drives me crazy. If it were up to me I'd keep you between my legs all the time. Under my desk at work, here in our bed, anywhere I could get you, because no one, no one, has ever eaten my pussy as good as you do Jake."

You finally give in and let your fingers slide over your clit and down into your wet slit. Gathering some of your slick on your fingers you rub small circles around your clit. A soft sigh of relief escapes from your lips as some of the ache eases with your motions. You take the opportunity to look at Jake and he has slipped his sweats and boxer briefs down releasing his dick. His hard cock is in his hand, precum leaking out the tip. His green eyes look dark and intense as they watch your every move.

Your mouth waters at the thought taking him in your mouth, you begin to speak again, your sex stream of consciousness if you will,

"Love your cock, Jake. The taste. I want it in me all the time, my mouth, my pussy. We should try cockwarming. Think about having me wrapped all around you while we do something, like watch a movie and see how long we can hold out being that close and connected to each other without fucking our brains out." The image of you just being with Jake, perched on his dick gets you going even more and your fingers begin to speed up on your clit. You decide it's time to get the vibrator involved. When you pull your hands away to get the toy and lube, Jake lets out a little whine of disappointment.

You apply some lube to the vibrator and click the cap shut before tossing it to the foot of the bed for Jake. Laying back you hear the click of the lube cap and know Jake has slicked himself up. You click the toy on, and tease it down your body to your pussy. Even then you don't go straight in, enjoying the pleasant vibrations on your clit and swirling it around your hole to heighten the anticipation some more.

"I need to get a bigger vibrator, this one feels small compared to you," you pant out as you tease yourself with the aforementioned toy. Jake huffs out a small laugh at your statement.

"I like how you stretch me when you first slide in," you try to say in a sultry voice as you slide the vibe in, slowly pumping it in and out. The sounds of Jake's breaths speed up.

The satisfaction of knowing how turned on he is spurs you to keep talking,

"I like to think of all the ways you've taken me, how we've fucked, Jake. I always love it when you push me up against a wall and just rail me," you can't help but let out a loud moan at the thought and memory,

"Going as deep as you can, can practically feel your dick in my throat and almost taste it."

A small "fuck me" rumbles from Jake's mouth and you continue to let the dirty talk spill out of your mouth.

"Or when you take me from behind, it lets you slap my ass how I like it. I love seeing your big hand prints on my ass."

With that last verbal volley, everything speeds up. You click the next level on the vibrator, pump it faster, and rub your clit harder on your quest to come undone.

The sounds of slicked up movement mixed with Jake's heavy breathing and muted grunts at the foot of the bed tell you he's getting closer to his own release. You hold your head up long enough to take in the sight of Jake, shirt discarded somewhere along the way, muscles tensed, eyes transfixed on your movements as he slides his hand up and down his cock.

Your own climax is building rapidly and you start to shout as you peak,

"So close, Jake,I'm coming, fuck yes, oh my god."

You finally break into that plane of bliss and the pleasure washes over you as you thrash about on the bed.

Chest heaving, you pull the vibrator out and turn it off. You collapse, boneless, into the softness of the bed.

The bed dips and Jake crawls up to kiss you. It is hard and messy, saliva and tongues as he keeps up his rhythm on his dick, slowly jerking it as he hovers above you.

"El, how you keep getting sexier and sexier I don't know, watching you get yourself off and knowing how much you think about me got me so fucking hard. Can't wait to fuck you after this," he pants against your lips.

You grasp his cock, displacing his hand, as you moan,

"I want you to come," you pause, "Come on me."

"Fuck, El."

You speed up your strokes on his dick, his eyes starting to screw shut as he focuses on you.

Jake lets out a deep moan as his

hands grasp and bunch the comforter on either side of your head.

"El, I'm going to come," he pants, his hips bucking into your hand.

"Want you to feel good. Come for me."

That is the magic set of words that pulls Jake's release from him, warm spurts of come land on your chest as a loud strangled grunt emits from Jake his head pulled back, veins bulging on his neck, chest heaving.

"Holy fuck, El," he groans out as he flops on his back next to you on the bed. He looks your way just in time to watch you drag a finger through the mess on your chest and bring it to your lips to clean.

He groans, almost painfully,

"You're going to kill me, El. Jacob Thomas Seresin dead by sex at age 33."

You laugh and stretch your neck over to him to catch his lips in a sweet kiss. "That was the one of the sexiest things I've ever seen," he says against your lips. You pull back enough to look Jake in the eyes.

"I'm glad you liked it."

He laughs,

"I loved it."

You find Jake's hand with your own and interweave your fingers together.

"I've never done that with anyone," you say into the space between you,

"I didn't really trust any guy enough to give them an all access pass to my brain and body.

Jake raises your intertwined hands and kisses your knuckles softly,

"I'm honored I'm the first and last man who gets this privilege."

You raise an eyebrow,

"The last?"

"Darling, I'm never letting you go."

"Ditto."

"I'm thinking we need to explore that porn shower of yours some more and clean you up," Jake says pulling you up.

"Sounds lovely, lead the way, Jake."

@mygyn

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[himbos-hotline]

CM Punk trained Jay turning on him to join BCC or The Elite

I need to purge my urges [I need somebody to blame]

Word count: 3845 words Ship: Kenny Omega/Jay Orton, Jay Orton & Matt Jackson & Nick Jackson, Matt Jackson & Nick Jackson, The Elite [platonic] Characters:Jay Orton, Matt and Nick Jackson, Kenny Omega, Cm Punk, Jon Moxley. Mentions of Hangman + Adam Cole Triggers: Smoking, Punk beats down Jay, Blood. I think that's it Authors note: Did I make Punk kind of an asshole, yes. Am I sorry also Yes but I needed the story to move along so...Anyway, Jay joins the Elite because they're his family! Originally Jay is trained by William Regal in her canon...Uh, I think that's everything. OH! both the young bucks are autistic, come for me. I wasn't sure how to title it, so I mashed two lyrics together. Read on ao3

There's a lot of things that Jay isn’t meant to do. They aren't meant to be late for training, they aren’t meant to drink or smoke. She’s meant to listen when Punk talks and follow the rules that he sets out for them. No sleeping past nine in the morning, no smoking. She remembers him grabbing zem by the wrist after her first match, stared at her with dark eyes and in a cold voice stated. “Stay away from The Elite. They’re bad news.” She had creased her eyebrows and shrugged.

She had also quickly ignored his advice. It was an argument that had captured her attention, voices distant but angry down the hall and Jay glances over their shoulder before wandering up the hallway. There's the crack of broken glass and he dives back at the Bucks leaving the bar, Jay spots Nicks on the verge of tears and she gives him a small sad smile. He gives her one back before jogging to catch up with Matt and something inside Jay breaks as he watches the two of them embrace, trying to find comfort in one another.

“What happened?” They ask, holding their hands up like they're approaching two terrified wild animals. “Matt, your ankles bleeding.”

“I'm not-” Matt shifts Nick onto his side, rolling up the hem of his pants before sighing. “I am…thanks.” His voice is thin and drained of emotions. “I don't think you should be talking to us.”

Jay gives the brothers a half shrug. “What Punk doesn't know won't hurt him.” She muses, grinning when Nick gives a breathy giggle and turns to stare at Matt like they're talking. “What's happening?”

“Brother conversation.”

“Oh.”

Jay digs her hands into her jacket pockets and holds a bandaid out to Matt. “My Ma taught me to always carry at least one of them.”

For the first time since Hangman cost them the match, Matt smiles. “Thanks..”

Nick pats them on their head, soft and slow like he's stroking a cat and Jay, assuming that he’s trying to calm his shaking hands, tilts his head into his palm and raises a confused eyebrow. “Happy there Nick?”

“Mhm '' is the little sound that radiates from the younger buck, head still lulled on his brother's shoulder, trying to keep balance while Matt tries to cover the small wound on his ankle with the bandaid. It's a somewhat funny picture and Jay struggles to contain their laughter, she chokes on a giggle and explodes when Nick shifts and Matt topples over. They both blink up at him for a few moments, eyes wide and stunned and red-rimmed before Nick starts laughing and soon the small group, sitting on the floor down an empty corridor of Daily’s place, burst out laughing.

Jay thinks back on that day, rolling a cigarette between their fingers. There’s little about winter that he enjoys; the cold and the wind being the curtains that close on the first act of life. But, as the end of their cigarette glows an aggressive orange under the newly blackened sky, Jay enjoys the fact that winter brings silence. Punk doesn’t follow her outside to the alleyway behind the arena where she meets up with Adam to share chase kisses and sips of whiskey chilled by the night or onto the roof where Jay meets up with Matt and Nick to gossip and share energy drinks.

Jay blows smoke out their nose, watching how it raises up to the sky stroking at the sky. She looks up towards the stars and half expects to meet a pair of eyes, staring down at them. The darkness stares back, unmoving and unblinking. “What?” She asks as she blows out another mouthful of smoke, letting the smell wash away Punk’s voice that seemingly always echoes around the back of their head like the aftertaste of a pill that he never swallowed correctly.

He tucks a leg under his hips, letting the back of his combat boots knock against the broken wall that he’s perched himself on, his back against the wall of the arena. A small little corner that few people would know how to check. They sigh, turning her eyes to the gathering crowds. People-watching Mox calls it and it makes Jay chuckle as he shakes off the extra ash from the end of her cigarette.

There’s a door that opens and slams closed a few feet away from Jay and Mox pokes his head round like a meerkat before slapping a hand against the smaller man's shoulder. Chuckling when she jumps in his hands, “Kenny wants ya Doll.”

His voice slashing through Jay’s quiet sanctuary under the stars, makes Jay frown and huff when he drops the cigarette to the floor. “Asshole.” She jeers, nose wrinkling when Mox rolls his eyes and tugs on her wrist like a stubborn child. “I’m coming, I'm coming.” “Keep that stuff for ya boyfriends.” Mox jokes back, raising an eyebrow when Jay uses his arm as a stable base to pull themselves up and hop off the wall. Jay feels like she’s known Mox forever and a day when in fact it’s more than likely been a few years. A long time before AEW, a family friend Jay was quickly drawn to his rough and tumble style of wrestling and after spending an hour chatting in medical, the both of them coated in their own blood, the two of them became fast friends. Or, as Mox yells at people, brothers.

“How’d you get the old guy distracted?” Jay asks, reaching into Mox’s pocket and stealing a pack of chewing gum. Mox looks playfully stern, well, as playful as a guy like Jon Moxley can look before ruffling their hair.

“Danhausen.” He tells Jay with a shrug, reaching into her hoodie pocket and groaning dramatically. “What idiot only takes one cig and the lighter?” He asks, steering them into a hallway.

“Me. I don't think there’s locker rooms down here.” She states, their voice taking on a soft, dramatically terrified tone like she was a movie heroine stolen and Mox was the villian with a dastardly plan

Mox chuckles, draping a brotherly arm around his shoulder. “You're right, I’ve finally had enough of ya and I'm gonna stab ya down this empty corridor.” he jabs his side and Jay squeals out a laugh, flailing their hands trying to punch him in the sides. It's a fruitless task since Mox just scoops them up and throws him over his shoulder, laughing along with his little brother.

“Put me down asshole!” Jay’s voice lisps past the chewing gum pinned between his back teeth and laughter. Mox spins him around before plonking him ungracefully on his feet. “Thank you!” She sighs dramatically, shoving his shoulder, sighing when Mox doesn’t even mock fall. “Don’t no sell me asshole!”

“Learn to push better than, doll.” He knocks on a door and pushes it open. Jay watches for a few seconds from the threshold of the door, Mox footsteps fall quiet and then invisible, leaving Jay alone, watching Kenny pacing restlessly around the small room. She coughs, swallowing the chewing gum in her mouth as Kenny's head shoots up. He looks around the room and in seconds, he takes Jay’s face in his hands, pinching their cheeks before planting a soft kiss on his lips.

“Hi babygirl, I missed you.” He whispers, lips still brushing against Jay’s, he looks at her with soft eyes and Jay wonders if she’d ever get bored of the blue of his eyes or the stories they tell. Zey brushes his nose against Kenny’ as his feet settle back on the carpeted floor.

Her head rests against his chest, fingers linking together. His heart hammers against Jay’s ear and she sighs, letting their eyes float closed until Kenny steps back to hold his boyfriend at arm's length, tilting their head between his thumb and forefinger like he’s looking for a wound that not even Jay knows exists. “I’ve not even wrestled yet baby, the scars are all old.” Kenny grunts in reply, lips pressed together into a thin line. “I’m not lying, I know how I got these scars.”

The half-reference makes Kenny laugh and Jay grins, letting their hands settle on his hips, tracing the curve of them under his jeans. It saddens Jay that Kenny is the only one who still can't wrestle, but old injuries reawaken like evil deities at the worst times. “You look sad, so I thought I'd check if you were hurt.” He tells her softly, taking the hands resting on his waist to move closer, scooping zem into his arms. His lips find her cheeks, his lips, the curve of her chin, his neck. Leaving behind little marks, soft and pink like growing roses through snow against Jay’s skin.

With her legs tangled loosely around his hips, Jay leans her head back, relishing in the feeling of his scuff rubbing their skin soft and pink. It makes Jay feel like he's polishing him, his lips scrubbing away years of grime and Punk’s rules, revealing the real Jay hidden under a layer of grime. “Kenny baby-” Her voice comes out on a heavy exhale as Kenny sucks a mark on their shoulder, eyes fluttering opening to stare at her. “We don't have time for any of that kinda stuff, twenty minutes before the show opens.” Kenny whines, knocking his forehead into her shoulder and Jay tightens the grip on his hips, weaving their fingers into his hair.

“You suck.” He whispers playfully, leaning his head into her palm, letting Jay try to separate his light and dark curls between his fingers.

“I’m doing the exact opposite of sucking.” Jay jokes back, voice soft as she presses a kiss behind his ear. “I love you.” She whispers.

He tilts his head against hers, letting Jay shift and move as he leans against the wall. The joke lays untouched for a little while and a silence waes over the small room, comfortable and safe. “Leave Punk. Join us.” Kenny whispers, eyes downcasting to the floor before back up when Jay strokes their hands down the sides of his face and down his neck, until they are resting on his shoulder, rubbing at the scars underneath.

“Kenny baby, I cant…you know this..”

“You’d be happier!”

Jay sighs, pressing their forehead against his and pressing the tips of their noses together. He’s speaking the truth and Jay knows it. Punk makes her sad, too many rules and regulations. Jay doesn’t fit into a box and definitely not the box that Punk wants her too; but he trained him, taught him everything he knows. It feels wrong to just betray him. He’s looking at him, face crinkling. The look of understanding washing across his face. It was hard to leave behind the Bullet Club, It was harder to leave Japan and…

Kenny sighs, shaking his head. He leaves the wall, walking around the outside of the room while Jay snuggles themselves deeper and deeper into his chest. He runs his nail across his collarbone and it makes Kenny smile into the air around the two of them. “Yknow, I couldn’t join the Elite anyway-'' There's an edge to their voice and when Kenny looks down at her, there's a cheeky little grin quirking her lips upwards.

He raises one eyebrow, lifting her higher up his taller frame. “Oh yeah? Why's that?”

She tugs at the collar of his t-shirt, shifting it around against his skin. “I have better fashion sense.” Kenny gasps and Jay bursts out laughing, cheeks flushing a heavy red as joy creates wrinkles on their face.

Faking being hurt, Kenny stands over the couch and his grip loosens ever so slightly, like he's going to drop zem on the couch. Jay squarks, hands flailing to grip on his shirt like a cat digging its claws into the carpet. “I should drop you for that, your brothers and I are the epitome of good fashion!” Jay's fingers dig deeper into the fabric of his shirt and Kenny chuckles, wrapping an arm around his hips. “I won’t drop you, promise.”

Jay just sighs, tucking her nose against his collarbone before whining when her phone lights u[, casting bright lights onto the wall. It shatters their soft moment and Jay slowly unwinds herself from Kenny’s side, letting their legs brush against his before their feet hit the floor. “Kenny I-”

“Baby. you have to remember?” He reminds him, pressing a little kiss to the back of their head, behind zeir ear, any little scrap of skin that his lips can find while Jay scans through texts. They nod and Kenny represses the urge to sigh or punch the clock. “I’ll walk you as close as I can.” He promises, holding his arm out to his boyfriend. The walk towards Gorgillia is silent, only punctuated by little sounds that slip out of Jay as they walk, his eyebrows are knitted together and her nose crinkles. It’s the face that they pull when they’re so deep in thought time stops existing. Kenny bends down slightly and brushes his lips against the wrinkles in their nose.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, words breaking with a laugh. Under the dull lights backstage, Jay’s perfectly mismatched eyes sparkle like gemstones and Kenny wants nothing more than to keep his precious thing safe in his arms. The hand on his arm slips away slowly and Kenny feels like a bird watching its young flee the nest, slipping out of his grasp to tumble through the air, no real knowledge of what to do. Just instinct and a prayer. “Hey jay?”

“What Kenny? I’m gonna be late.”

“I love you.”

Jay smiles, bright enough that it makes Kenny squint slightly. He carries the smile throughout the promo and even when their shoulders are pinned to the mat, there’s still a glimmer of joy that spreads across their face. Her music bounces around the arena for what feels like seconds before the opening beats of Cult of Personality sends shockwaves through the arena, the crowd lights up.

Jay squints as Punk enters the arena,kneeling in the corner as blood drips steadily from zeir nose. The air in the arena is hot, scalding Jay’s mouth as she takes in small, heavy sucks of air, letting the rich oxygenated blood flood through her system. Punk pushes the ropes down and when he glares down at the smaller man, his brown eyes are telling them a thousand tales; all of them end in disappointment.

The first blow comes as a shock to their system. Pain stuns their lungs still and he coughs, desperate to suck in at least a little bit of air. It’s a swift kick to their stomach and it sends him toppling into the canvas, arms arms wrapping around their head. Punks grumbling something that Jay can’t pick up over the scream of the crowd and the roar of boo’s that punctuate every blow. There's tears in her eyes and blood in his mouth. It hurts to breathe and the crowd sounds so close yet so far away, like they've been submerged in water.

She raises her eyes, peaking through the gap in their arm and sighs when Punk is staring down at them, a hand reaching out for him to take. She uncurls slowly, rocking back against the ropes. Her knee hurts to stand on, pain mixing with anxiousness in their bloodstream. “What the fuck?!” He snaps, loud enough for the in-ring microphone to pick up.

Punk chuckles, low and villainous. “I was teaching you a lesson. You screwed up a kick.” He rolls his eyes again when Jay scowls, an eyebrow quirked upwards. “I saw you hanging out with Kenny.”

“So what?!” Jay snaps, throwing their hands up in exasperation. He wobbles unsteadily and grabs back onto the ropes, hobbling towards the turnbuckles. “You can’t stop who I’m friends with!”

“I told you to stay away from the Elite! They’re bad news! Look what they did to Cole!” Punk tilts his head slightly, knowing that anything Adam Cole related, rubs an already sore spot, opens and bloody. Jay roars up, pain now second in his mind. There's a fire in their eyes and Punk chuckles. “That's what I want to see, that anger! That passion.”

They stare at Punk like he’s just thrown another swift kick into her chest. Bruised hands clench and unclench at their sides, nails gripping so deep into the flesh of his palms that they leave behind little crescent moons. Anger burns in his chest. “Leave my friends out of this stupid little-” She falters, waving a hand at Punk. “egomaniac trip that you have going on. I’m done.” Glancing at the crowd, jay takes notes of the stunned faces, leaning forwards against the barricades. There’s something glowing in their eyes, passion and glory and it fuels Jay, picks open every wound that Punk had forced zem to close.

“What do you mean you're done?” Punk asks, grabbing their wrist and yanking them back to look at him. His eyes are sunken and dark, like he’s punch-drunk on Jay’s desire for wanderlust. His trainee keeps remarkably tight lipped, tongue pressing into the inside of their cheek. Punk presses the ball of his hands into their shoulders and shoves. “Why don’t you take this seriously!?”

“I do take this seriously!” Jay growls, shoving Punk back. Anger is roaring in their ears, their skin is an aggressive red and the blood that drips from his nose rubs across his face when they scrub it away with the back of their hand. “I’ve taken this seriously since I was thirteen years old! I’m not some kid for you to live vicariously through! Your career is over! Get over it!” He sneers, voice high and wire thin, tears are prickling at the corner of their eyes, burning like lava. The glare in Punk's eyes would be enough to send shivers down their spine, it would normally have them backing up like a terrified puppy.

Jay bares their teeth, balls their hands into fists. “I missed a kick huh?” He takes a small step back and with all the force Jay’s smaller frame can muster, lands a kick hard into Punk's stomach. The sound is sharp and slices through the screaming fans like a whip cracking off bare skin. Anger floods their movements, messy kicks against Punk’s fingers send small cracks and yells through the arena.

Hands wrap securely around Jay’s middle, scooping them off the mat and pinning them carefully into the corner. “No! No let me-” Someone places their hand in his hair and something inside Jay’s brain cracks like a glowstick. “Nicky?”

“It's okay Jaybird, we gotcha.” Nick’s voice is remarkably calm despite having Jay pinned in the corner, petting their hair down while the rest of the arena empties, keeping Punk penned in the opposite corner. He’s yelling something, spit flying but the pain is winning out, swirling around Jay’s ears. Everything hurts and when he goes to take a breath, Jay realizes that it shakes in their chest, rattling around like a guitar pick stuck behind the strings of their ribs.

“It's okay. Promise.” Nick keeps whispering, stroking a line down their sweaty red curls, pinning them against his forehead, “don’t cry please.” Is she crying? Jay raises a hand and wipes a thumb across her cheek. Tears shimmer back and once he registers that they’re happening, Jay can’t seem to stop them. Nick bundles them into a hug, swaying until the ring empties. There’s another pair of arms around Jay’s side now and Matt’s digging his chin into the crown of their head. He chuckles when Jay grumbles, weakly elbowing him in the stomach. It’s soft enough that it doesn't hurt but Matt makes a dramatic whine, flashing a grin when Nick rolls his eyes and releases Jay from the hug.

The crowd’s almost explosive, screaming and cheering. There's music playing overhead and Jay glances around the arena, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Her mind is foggy, filled with pain and anxiousness. She feels tired and stupid and as he limps in a circle, their neck hurting too much to look over his shoulders. He spots Kenny, leaning against the ropes like he;’s waiting to be recognised; legs crossed and arms hooked nonchalantly around the ropes, fingers tapping against his palm in time to his entrance theme.

Jay stares and Kenny makes a little sound when he finally stops looking at his feet, almost like he’s surprised to see Jay standing at the opposite end of the ring. He raises his eyebrows and flashes a crooked smile. “Did you two bring him here?” His voice is sing-songy and jokey, eyes sparkling enough to tell the Bucks and Jay to play along with whatever narrative Kenny has planned.

Matt nods obediently, hand pressing into the middle of Jay’s back like he’s trying to hold her up. He more than likely is because when Kenny steps closer and Jay tries to copy, their leg wobbles unsteadily and Nick has to reach out to grab zeir shoulder, “whoops.”

Kenny chuckles and holds a hand out to Jay. “Join us.” He mouths.

He pushes Kenny’s hand away, letting it fall to the side. Confusion floods the ring. Matt tilts his head to the side, brown eyes wide and confused while Nick looks slightly terrified, his lips pulled tight. Jay takes another step forwards, one arm pirouetting in small circles to keep himself standing upright before he tumbles into Kenny, tucking head safely under his chin.

“We’ll take that as a yes then?” He asks, voice soft and breathy.

“Yes.”

The sky is a soft blue when Jay collapses onto the couch, draping her legs over Matt’s lap. He scoffs playfully, leaning back against the couch as his eyes focus back on the TV. Nick looks up from his book and opens his mouth. “Nicholas, if you say one more bird fact, I will actually murder you in your sleep.”

Nick closes his mouth.

Kenny chuckles from his place on one of the beds, scrolling through his phone. Originally they were talking about what to have for dinner, before distractions took over. “How about sushi?”

“Fish allergy.” Nick chimes in. “How about chinese?” Everyone hums happily and Nick smiles proudly.

Jay places her hand on the back of his head. “Why don't ya tell me about birds huh Nicky?”

There’s a playfully dramatic groan from the other men in the hotel room and that’s how they stay for the rest of the night. Nick happily rambling away while they share take away containers and Jay sighs softly.

There's not a lot of things that Jay is meant to do. But as she crawls into bed, head pressed against Kenny’s side, his phone propped up on the bedside table so both Adam’s can look down at them through heavy set tired eyes, She knows that being part of the Elite is one of them.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

@smallestsnarkestgirl @skyqueen3 @josiewrites @itsnoosetome @jacedoe

@golden-disaster @sincyrlee @glitchaxolol @daddywrasslin @bikenny

@katries @thegizardofmars @motorcitygem @miru-has-thoughts @powderflower

@miserablecreachur @afterdarkprincess @mobiblackout @pinksuperkliq @harvey-dent

@thekadster

[mayhemproduces]

                                       Ding, Ding, Ding.                                 Let the match commence.

there was a sense of agitation as lacey made their way into the ring, the whole lead up into this match making them more annoyed than the match itself.

but this was about survival… proving themselves above all else as they immediately blocked a strike by mance warner with their belt immediately as the bell rang, the intensity picking up quicker than they thought.

with hangman and tiffany facing each other, lacey’s eyes are tuned into mance’s as they connected together in a series of punches, the crowd following the action like a tennis match as they striked through.

an attempt of a Big Boot from lacey to warner sent lacey flying back into the ropes with a Knee Up, Knee Down for the other before pulling them up into a DDT, pulling up for a pin.

1..

        2..

                   KICK OUT BY LACEY KARMENS!

there was a rush going from that scene to the aggression that hangman and tiffany are displaying. the drips of blood that split from previous throws of furniture and themselves onto whatever they could find.

adrenaline running through the arena and onto the canvas as they pushed the others to the side with force before tiffany grabbed hangman as tight as she could…

the crowd built their chants and aggression of their own through the other displays as she took out a sheet of glass and metal, laying it in the centre of the canvas before placing hangman down with a Double Underhook Sitout Facebuster.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

a fan cried out as she pulled him up into a pin.

1..

        2..

                   KICK OUT BY HANGMAN PAGE!

this match brought the worst out of each person, the growing rage of each individual in the ring, easy to capture and throw back to the audience.

each body being thrown through any material in their sights..

each substance coming out staining the ground that laid across all of them…

the ability of expressing every emotion that can come out whether in physical or emotional form fascinated the audience as their eyes turned to hangman’s slow awakening; crawling towards mance with a grimace on his face before pulling him into a Choke Hold.

glass pressing into his face like a pressure wound.

eyes continued to focus on the display as hangman lifted him up and into a GTS onto whatever material surrounded them before pulling him up into a pin.

1..

        2..

                   KICK OUT BY MANCE WARNER!

but this match, no matter the result, always relied on lacey… 

this entire year and this championship relied on them as they moved towards the top of the arena space; eyes focused in as they laid out now a row of Tiffany, Hangman and Mance in front of them.

if they die in london… bury them proudly with their barbed wrapped bat…

as lacey took a breath, they pushed forward and onto a Moonsault Leg Drop onto the three to the crowd’s shock and delight.

with the countdown on, they grabbed all three and led them through towards the ring as fast as they could before grabbing hangman closely. 

“you tried cowboy, i’m sorry.” they whispered before lining him up for a San Fran Bicycle into a sealed pin.

1..

        2..

                  3!

“Here’s your winner and still your MPW Atlas Champion; they are Karma, LACEY KARMENS!”

there was a glimmer in their eyes as they held onto the belt close, quickly grabbing the mic as fast as they could as the audience immediately paid attention… 

“all you beautiful people… we did it!” they yelled to a roar and stamps of the crowd before they all settled back down. 

“now… as you all may know, hopefully, that right now the world continues to be as fucked up as ever.” they state, settling into a sitting position, “as fucked up as this ring got… but winning this? isn’t just winning for you, isn’t just winning for me or my family… its winning for the younger generation exactly like me who, right now, are FUCKING terrified of what will happen.”

they pause, a slight wipe of their eyes, “but… i’ve been living, i’ve been kicking fucking ass here and i’ve been surviving and for those at home.. you will survive. you will fight. and most importantly…” lacey moved closer to the camera, “we ALL will show whatever fucked up world whats UP! AS LONG AS I AM HERE! WE ARE FIGHTING! WE ARE PROTESTING! WE ARE GOING TO FUCK SHIT UP AND THOSE WHO DESERVE IT, WILL GET KARMA!!” they end before slipping away.

[forsty]

-whips out all my ot3 references that i’ve been dying to use- WHERE ARE MY BOYS

[writing-and-wondering]

Just like us

Pairing: Dad!Hangman x Mom!Reader 

Warnings: Fluff, possible after effects of baby fever idk

Request: not really lol

Word Count: 1.3k

Synopsis: Inspired by this adorable video sent by @kk-18, the minute I saw it I knew what I had to do 

a/n: I’ve been in love with jake being a dad recently so have this little thing I wrote in like ten minutes <3

“Oh, your daddy is going to love this.” You say to your three month old as you button up the little flight suit that you had bought for him. Having seen it through a random ad online, you instantly knew your little man needed it and had it shipped to your house before you could even think. 

Your son squirms on the changing table as you roll up the sleeves in order to free his tiny hands, “Seems like momma got a size too big, huh?” Lifting him up to observe your work, your heart almost bursts as his feet disappear under the too long legs of the onesie, “Oh my gosh, you’re too cute.” 

Laughing at his nonsense babbles, you lay him back on the table and quickly roll up the pant legs as well, tickling his little feet as they kick around. 

Scooping him up in your arms and turning to face the mirror hanging on the wall, you hold him against your chest as his head rests on your shoulder. Rubbing his back, you smile widely at the familiar green of the onesie. 

Your baby lets out a little whine and you nod as you gently pat his back, “I was thinking it too, Bub, somethings definitely missing.” 

Making your way to the kitchen, you fish around in the box the outfit had arrived in until you find what you were looking for, “Aha!” You grab onto the tiny aviators you had ordered to go along with the little flight suit and hold them up for your son to see, “An aviator isn’t complete without their... well, their own pair of aviators.” 

You chuckle at yourself before kissing the top of your son’s head as you place him into his donut pillow. After situating him and making sure he’s comfortable, you smile as you gently brush his little blond hairs back with your thumb, “You’re going to look just like Dad, little man.” 

He smiles under your touch and it takes everything in you not to pick him up and squeeze him. Cuteness aggression is very real, and a constant battle that you find yourself finding. No complaints though, of course. 

Keeping an eye on the squirmy baby, you walk over to the kitchen island and disinfect the tiny aviators before returning to your son, “How about we try these on, hm? Would that make you happy?” 

He stills under your touch as you place the sunglasses over his eyes, his mouth forming a little o. Stepping back to fully see him, your hand comes to cover your mouth as you smile, “Oh my gosh, this- you are so cute.” 

You’re laughing as you take your phone out of your pocket and begin snapping photo after photo of your little aviator. While you’re caught up with your photo-op, you don’t hear the door open and close, announcing your husbands entrance. 

An arm sliding around your middle is what finally brings your attention away from what you believe to be the cutest thing in the world. You’re still laughing as you turn in Jake’s arms, happy tears in your eyes. 

“Now, what is going on here, Mrs. Seresin?” Jake asks as he places a hello kiss onto your lips. The hand not holding your phone wraps around his neck as you deepen the kiss before pulling back, “Oh, nothing. Just documenting the worlds most adorable aviator.”

Jake gives you a confused look, “But I just got home?”

You lightly hit his chest as you take his hand and turn him towards the baby, “Our son, you goof.” 

You watch as Jake freezes, his eyes going wide as a smile grows on his face. He’s already laughing as he reaches over and tickles his son’s belly, “What are you wearing, little man?” 

“I found it online, and just had to get it.” You say as you hug Jake from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder, “Did get it a little big, though.” 

Jake is still staring in awe at Simon, his finger held tightly in the baby’s little fist, “He’ll grow into it.” He says softly before grabbing his phone, “I gotta show the team, they’re going to love this.” 

Though you’ve already taken enough pictures to fill a photo album, Jake doubles it before sending them off to the dagger team group chat. 

You laugh as your phone begins dinging, “Dang, how many did you send, Hangman?” 

Your husband just chuckles as he places his phone on the counter before picking up his son, who had begun to fuss a little at the lack of being held, “There will be plenty more where that came from.” He says as he kisses the baby’s head that is now resting on his shoulder. 

“Oh, come here.” You take his hand in your own and lead him over to the mirror you had been looking at earlier. As you two stand in front of it with your baby in his little flight suit, your heart swells. 

Wrapping an arm around your husband’s back, you lean against him as you stare at your little family, “You two are matching.” You say softly against his shoulder, noting that Jake was still in his suit from work. He chuckles as he places a kiss to your forehead, “Just wait until we’re all in our flight suits.”

You smile and turn your head up as you kiss him, “Do you think he’ll complain about our PDA?” Jake asks against your lips. 

Chuckling, you squint at him as you pull back, “Is it really considered public if it’s in our home?” 

Jake ponders this for a second before shrugging, “Guess he’ll just have to get used to it, then.” 

“That he will.” You reach over and rub your baby’s back, “Little Si is going to be surrounded by so much love.” 

“He already is, darling.” Jake corrects softly. Smiling, you hum in agreement. 

Looking back to the mirror, you see everything that you had waited your entire life for. Hugging your husband and child tighter, you rest your head on Jake’s shoulder. 

“Do you think he’ll want to be an aviator? Like us?” Jake asks, resting his cheek against the top of your hair as he takes off the little sunglasses that Simon was beginning to fuss over. 

You run your thumb soothingly across your son’s cheek, “Not sure... but whatever he’ll be, he'll be wonderful.”

“That he will be, my dear.” Jake agrees, as a smile grows on his face, “But having him grow up to be just like us would be pretty cool, too.”

“Pretty cool, indeed.” You say as you kiss his cheek. Turning to face you and wrap his arm around you, Jake pulls you closer, little Simon sandwiched between you two. 

You fix your baby's sleeve again, his hand wrapping around your finger, “My handsome little man.” You whisper as you kiss his head. 

“What about me?” Jake asks, a playful look of hurt on his face. You roll your eyes and kiss him, “You already know what I think of you, Hangman.” 

“Do I now?” He raises an eyebrow at you. All you do is deepen the kiss, feeling all the love you have for him and your little family flowing through you. 

Your moment is interrupted as Simon lets out a loud whine. Laughing at your son’s timing, the two of you pull apart and Jake starts bouncing the little baby in order to soothe him. 

“Would you look at that, he’s already so much like you.” You comment, earning a wide eyed stare from your husband. 

“Oh, you take that back right now!” He says and reaches for you, but you’re already running out of the nursery. Jake curses and supports Simon’s head against his shoulder as he goes after you. 

Your laughs echo down the hall as he follows you, the two of you ending up on the couch with your stomachs hurting. 

☆

a/n: not me posting this and forgetting to add the taglist until hours later,, excuse me while I just-

taglist:

@rotating-obsessions @rosiahills22 @obiwankenobis-lap @haljordangreenjedi @ollyoxenfrees @alluringshawn @queenbbarnes @shesbiochem4 @supernaturaldawning @fandom-life-12 @thesewordsareallihavetogive @that-queer-fanbase @willow-nope @averyhotchner @blackwidownat2814 @austinbutlerssneakylink @dempy

[getinthefuckingjaeger]

[for Em, from this post]

“What.”

Bradley shrugs off-handedly and uncaps what's left of his venti frappe to scoop out the ice at the bottom. At dusk on a weekday, the little strip of beach they’re at is almost empty of the public save for their little group.

The both of them are sitting side by side by the shore, the white foam whispering closer and closer to their bare feet - the rest of the team sprawled in various positions on the sand a few feet behind them, lazily chatting and rolling the football between them. 

“Dude, it’s whatever - totally fine that you went rogue for the glory and it tracks with the whole,” Bradley gestures to all of Jake before going right back to his ice. “- lone ranger bullshit you have going on. Hell, I’m grateful that you did, truly.”

Bradley squints at the tiny bits of ice before throwing the whole lot into his mouth - he tosses a sheepish look over his shoulders at a lounging Mav, remembering old childhood nagging about crunching ice.

“Bradshaw, what the fuck.”

“What?” Bradley turns his head to Jake who’s looking at him with his mouth open and his eyes narrowed. He leans back and away from Jake who looks five seconds away from clobbering him with a driftwood. “The hell you look offended for?” 

“One, I did not ‘go rogue’,” Bradley curses when he accidentally bites the inside of his cheek trying to avoid the finger Jake shoved in his face.

“Cyclone gave me the greenlight - did Fanboy feed you his bootleg Austen fantasies? I keep saying Bridgerton’s bad for you - 'go rogue’ like some kind of-.”

“Did you just air quote-”

“Two, even if I did ‘go rogue’,” Bradley scrambles backwards to avoid Jake’s aggressive hand waving - he glances to the rest of the team who seems to be blissfully ignorant of whatever the hell is going on with them, probably thinking it's just another patented Rooster-Hangman argument and not - you know- an actual potential homicide. 

“You listening to me, Bradshaw?” 

Bradley blinks. 

Jake is very very close. The blond’s upper body is in Bradley’s space, his left hand holding onto Bradley’s bare upper arm to keep himself steady, green eyes deadly serious and -shit- hurt. For the first time, Bradley wonders if he has, somehow, managed to put his foot in his mouth and fucked this up again. 

“Roo, even if I did go against orders,” Jake’s voice is soft and tired. Even his whole body seems to sag with exhaustion, like the hand holding onto Bradley’s arm is the only thing literally keeping him upright. “I would have done it for you, no one else.”

The week that they came back from the mission, Mickey roped Bradley into binging Bridgerton because everyone else was smart enough to bail the moment Mickey even breathed the words  ‘Netflix night’. He sat through the entire show on the edge of his fucking seat, hugging a pillow to his chest, and watched as the characters go through their (in Mickey’s words) italic Oh moment. 

Well, shit what do you know - Bradley thinks this is his real life italic Oh moment. 

(not exactly his first with Jake, but still–) 

(shit is he Anthony?)

“You scared me, Roo.”

Bradley’s brain snaps back from viscounts and italic Ohs. His body tenses up and his fight or flight goes into overdrive, like a threat is imminent and he needs to grab Jake and his family and run for cover.

But there is no threat, there is no danger, there is only Jake who moved back and out of Bradley’s space and leaving him cold, knees pulled up to his chest and body curving into a small upset thing. His face is turned away from Bradley like he cannot stand another second looking at Bradley’s stupid, oblivious face - which all things considered, is a pretty fair assessment of himself. 

“You really scared me.” 

Breathing becomes a chore. Thinking becomes difficult. Moving becomes something utterly impossible. But Jake is still talking like he didn’t just bowl Bradley over. Over the sounds of the wave crashing, the seagulls squawking, their family’s laughter and shouts - Bradley can still hear those quiet, resigned words as clearly as though Jake spoke them to his ears. 

“I asked Cyclone the first time you were – you and Mav-,” Jake shakes his head, blond hair askew in the wind and body painted in the colors of sunset. “I was terrified. It was like -shit- you know when it feels like you got ants crawling up your body when you’ve been sitting too long? It's like that but it was all over and it was in my head and all I could hear was static.” 

Bradley scoots closer, position mirroring Jake’s. He doesn't know where to look or what he should do, he only knows that he needs to be closer to Jake and lets his own mind rearrange itself, reset everything he has ever known about Jake or thought he has ever known, rewrite everything he has ever taken as gospel in the book of Bradley and Jake which, as it turns out, was written by an incredibly unreliable narrator (him).  

“You’ve left before.” Bradley grunts, the hit coming out of nowhere and landing where it hurts like a mother. Jake, as far as Bradley could tell, doesn’t even realize the words that keep spilling out of his mouth. It was like a broken dam and Bradley is caught in the whirlpool of water rushing through. 

“But this time - to me anyway- you were really gone,” Jake’s shoulders shuddered and this close, Bradley could almost see the goosebumps crawl up his arm. He gingerly wraps a hand around Jake’s ankle and holds him to the present. “I thought I must have died with you-” Bradley’s hand tightens around that one appendage and he grimaces, heart skipping so many beats he’s surprised he hasn't collapsed.

But Jake wasn’t done. 

“-because I swear I went through that whole life-flashing-before-my-eyes crap but it was just you. It was just all you - from when we were kids, the academy, the – after.” Jake uncurls enough to look at him, green eyes wet and exhausted but steady.

“Guess I wasn’t done with you after all.” 

Jake smiles at him, tiny and wan. Bradley can feel his own eyes watering and he blinks away the tears, sniffing as he scoots the last few inches between him and Jake. The hand around Jake’s ankle travels up to grab his hand and Bradley laces their fingers together, squeezing them three times.

Just like he used to years ago. 

“I guess you’re not.” 

Bradley’s words settle over them like a blanket. The sun’s gone from the horizon by now and the family is making noises about dinner and he can hear Mav telling Javy a stern no, leave them be. Bradley watches Jake’s eyes flicker between his own, the tiny wan smile gone and replaced with a carefully neutral set to his lips. It suddenly becomes extremely important that he coaxes a smile from Jake’s lips with kisses. 

But first- 

“I’m sorry.” He dares to drop a kiss on their clasped hands and another on Jake’s shoulder. “For everything, up until this moment - I know it's not good enough, but I’m still sorry.”

Jake drops eye contact and chuckles, but Bradley refuses to let this go now. “Hey, we’re gonna talk about this, alright Jake? We’re gonna talk and we’re gonna figure out how to be okay again - in whatever capacity you want us to be.” 

He ducks his head and catches Jake’s eyes, holding them for a heartbeat and forever. 

“Because I’m not done with you either.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Freedom || n.f

Nick Fowler x wife!reader

Summary: Nick is a cheating scumbag and you finally know you deserve better. Warnings: 18+ only, angst, cheating, mentions of murder WC: 1002

You didn’t even look up from the dish you had been scrubbing when you heard his keys rattle and the front door open a moment later. You could have easily worn through the ceramic plate with the aggressive strokes of that scourer if you paid any mind to it. But your mind was elsewhere.

A pair of hands came to rest on your hips as Nick arrived home and you couldn’t even acknowledge him, not with the burdening weight of what you knew resting on your shoulders. He placed a soft kiss on your neck, his soft hair caressing your face, and your nose wrinkled at the floral scent that didn’t belong to you.

You dropped the plate, the suds and splash escaping the stainless steel bowl, and cursed as you heard the break. Whether it was the plate or your heart you weren’t sure, both seemed as fragile as the other these days.

“How was your day?”

His voice was velvet across your skin and you clenched your eyes shut so he couldn’t see the pain radiating from them in the reflection of the window above the sink. The audacity of the question had you reaching into the sink needing to keep your hands busy before you turned them on him. A hiss followed the sharp pain in your hand and you ripped it back to find only half of the plate in your hand, the jagged broken edge easily slicing a deep red streak across your palm.

Your mind was numb as you stared at the welling red mess, the fascination with watching your life slip through your fingers and literally down the drain. A laugh bubbled from your lips as you ran your thumb along the cut, the touch breaking the spell that had held you frozen in his touch. There was so much more blood you had left, so much life you had to live, but not here.

“I want a divorce.”

Nick’s hands spun you around to face him, a trail of blood arcing across the bench and floor to create a circle of protection around you. Anger bled into those eyes, the possessive streak you had ignored up until recently, and his hand ensnared your throat as he tried to take back his control.

“Now hold on a minute,” he hissed in your ear, “this whole thing was your idea. The big white wedding, the townhouse, this fucking anchor on my finger.”

“I made a mistake.” You admitted, your blood smearing across his hand as you tried to pull it from your neck. “I thought it might stop you sleeping with every fucking whore but I was wrong and I’m done. We’re done.”

His laugh was a hangman's noose and you were about to hang. “I don’t think so, love. My name is on the house, the cars, your name. You. Are. Mine.”

A pair of headlights pulled into the driveway and parked beside Nick’s sedan, the steady click of heels tapping their way closer and you plastered a fake smile for your husband’s guest.

“Mace, lovely to see you again.” You lied as you fisted a teatowel to stem the bleeding and kissed the air beside her cheeks, that sweet scent of roses and jasmine invading your olfactory system. “I suppose you have business to discuss.”

“Won’t take too long.” Nick said with a glare thrown back at you as he led her down to his study. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The study door closed with a thud and a laugh, the buildup of all the anger you had suppressed bubbling to the surface at his arrogance. He seemed to forget who you were, only seeing you as a housewife and a toy to enjoy when his whores were all busy. It would be so easy to reach under the kitchen sink and grab the gun Nick kept strapped there, walk down the hall and bust the door open. You could probably kill the two lovers with one bullet if the position was right.

That wasn’t who you were anymore. You weren’t the agent who fell in love with her partner on a mission, you weren’t even the jealous wife since you were past the point of caring. Instead, you slipped off the ring that had become a constriction on your life and felt the weight of the diamond more like lead in your fingers. Mace’s moans drifted down the hall but there weren’t even any tears to shed, it was just the sounds of the next ghost to haunt this house.

Of all the hidden nooks and safes beneath floorboards, there was one Nick hadn’t found. Using his distraction, you pressed the code in and felt the bolt unlock before opening it and taking the cash and passport that had been waiting years for use, years for you to finally know your worth. He thought he owned you because your last name was Fowler, he was wrong. You opened the passport with your new identity and traced the name, a fresh start with no connection to him.

Rhythmic thumping down the hall reminded you that your window of opportunity was closing so you slipped the money and passport into your coat pocket and left your keys with your ring. He could have the house, he could have the cars and he could have the name, you were done with all of them.

Fresh air filled your lungs as you stepped outside and you felt like a newborn taking their first real breath, the shuddering of your lungs expanding to their capacity and the urge to scream for your victory. Now put one foot in front of the other, make it past the gate, make it past the street, just keep moving. Before you knew it you were running with the first real smile you had felt in years, the muscles morphing your face to reflect real joy and not straining under the false pretences you had forced them to perform every day.

You were free.

Click here for part two.

[lils-writes-stuff]

Self-fulfilling Prophecy

spencer reid x reader

Best Years Part two | Part one

summary: As the team investigates the mass suicides at Somerville academy, the tensions between the reader and Spencer rise. Ad the reader gets a note from a past memory. 

Warnings: normal Criminal minds things, more slow build up. 

A/N: based on season 7 episode 9 of criminal minds.  

  Y/N sat in her swivel chair at her desk, blue pen in her hand lightly tapping as she was deep in thought. All different kinds of emotions hitting her brain as she tried to put them all together, not knowing if it was something she should worry about or push aside. Her thoughts were soon broken by the smell of a fresh cup of coffee filling her senses. She turned and looked at a smiling Dr. Spencer Reid holding out her mug to her. 

   “You are the best Spence, thank you.” She smiled at him while she took the mug from his large hand. 

   “No problem, really,” he responded with a small smile, leaning himself against the edge of her desk. “You seem like something’s bothering you, what’s up?” 

   His question made her stop. To be honest she didn’t really know what was wrong. One thing she did know was that she was developing feelings for the good doctor in front of her. Other than that, she didn’t know. 

   He watched her pause. Thinking he crossed a line he began to get flustered. 

   “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-I mean,” he stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he explained.

   She looked up at him shaking her head, “No, no you didn’t.” She reassured him before she paused again trying to think of how to explain her feelings. “I’m not really sure if I’m being honest with you Spence,” she said, placing her mug down on her desk before she crossed her arms. 

   A security thing, Spencer thought as he watched her fold her arms across her chest and lean forward. 

   “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, not really knowing how to respond. Well, he knew how he wanted to respond but it wasn’t the most rational thing to say to someone who he didn’t even know if they had feelings for him also. “If there’s something you need or-or even someone you want to talk to, I’m here.” 

   Her heart fluttered.

   She smiled at him before she let her thoughts get in the way. “Thanks, Spence, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

   He gave a slight nod before taking a sip of his own coffee. 

   “You know I-” Y/N was cut off.

   “Guys,” Hotch said, getting the attention of the team down in the bullpen as he nodded towards the round table room. 

--------

   “Somerville Military Academy, Oceanside, Florida. Five boys were found hanging this morning,” Hotch began as he and Strauss began to explain the case.

   “Five?” Y/N said, a worried tone in her voice.

   “Yes, five,” Hotch said, confirming her doubt. 

   “The bodies are at the medical examiner’s now,” Strauss explained.

   “There’s no photos?” Derek asked, eyebrows raised. 

   “School personnel thought they may still be alive,” Strauss began. “So they cut them out of the trees.”

Y/N let out a slight sigh, an uneasy feeling forming in her stomach at the thought. Spencer looked at her with worry, silently asking her if she was okay. 

All good, she mouthed to him which he responded with a nod.  

   “Jimmy Burbage, Phil Mumford, Jerry Bowden, Jack Briggs, Tucker Calhoun,” Hotch spoke, listing out all the victims in the file.  

   “So we’re walking into a contaminated crime scene,” Derek said, with a slight question in his tone. “We don’t have anything solid?” 

   “ ‘We’re sorry’, was carved in a tree branch nearby,” Hotch answered Derek’s question.

   “This happened on campus?��� Emily asked, looking at Hotch. 

   “No, in the woods about an hour away,” he responded. 

   “How long were they out there?” Y/N asked.

   “Six days,” Strauss responded looking at her. 

   Y/N’s eyebrows raised, “Without supervision?”

   “It was an outward bound mission, for the upperclassman,” Strauss responded. She seemed slightly annoyed with her and Y/N just looked away without a question. 

   “What drove them to Suicide?” Spencer asked. 

   “Freshman cadet, Bailey Shelton, hung himself two weeks ago in his room,” Strauss explained.

   “Identical bed sheets, hangman’s knot,” Hotch said, giving more to the explanation.

   “Who takes sheets camping?” Rossi asked, the look of thought on his face showing through. 

   “They would if it was the plan,” JJ said, looking at those around the table.

   “Could be a domino effect,” Y/N said, adding more to JJ’s theory. 

   “Campus would have been on high alert after the first one, so the kids wait until they’re alone in the woods,” said Rossi. 

   “They must’ve made some kind of pact,” Derek agreed. 

   “And there’s something else,” Hotch began. “Six kids went on the trip. Only five were found.”

      Y/N let out another quiet sigh, this seemed a lot more complicated then the academy was probably going to let on. 

   “School officials confirmed Josh Redding is still missing,” Strauss said. 

   “Maybe he chickened out of the pact,” Derek said, trying to find a reason as to why he was missing. 

   “Or was never part of it,” Spencer added to Derek’s thought.

   “Campus is completely off the grid, no internet,” Hotch said. 

   “I can help with that,” Garcia said looking back at Hotch.

   “Which is why you’re coming with us,” Hotch said to her. 

   “Oh,” she responded not expecting that. 

   “And so am I,” Strauss said, causing everyone to look at her. Surprise all evident on their faces.   

   “Isn’t Somerville the director’s Alma Mater,” Rossi asked, to no one in particular really.

   “Yes. The academy has enjoyed a spotless reputation, so the hope is to keep the investigation in house,” Strauss explained.  

   “I imagine there’s a lot of concern for Josh,” Emily stated. “He’s been out there for almost a week.” 

   Everyone looked around at each other for a second.

   “So how’s he surviving?” JJ asked.

-------

   “So, Somerville Academy was founded during World War II,” Garcia began. “It is a hard-core old school, they don’t even have a website.” She finished her statement with a slight mumble. 

   “Socioeconomic breakdown all over the map,” Emily said looking down at the file in her lap. 

   “Yeah so are the ages,” Y/N said as she looked at the pamphlet in her hand. “Students are 12 to 18 years old.” 

   “All on the same campus, in the same dorms,” JJ said, continuing to read what was in front of them. 

   “Same personnel has worked there for a lifetime,” Derek said looking up from his file. “Ron Massey has been superintendent for 30 years.”

   “He’s an alum, as is the majority of the staff there,” Strauss said, giving more detail as to why that was. “Lieutenant Tawes has been his second in command this whole time.”

   “These types of places have their own infrastructure,” Derek said. 

   “Yeah, if it ain’t broken, they ain’t gonna fix it,” Y/N said with a small chuckle evident in her voice.

   “That’s probably why they banned modern technology,” Emily added on to the profile of the academy.   

   “They didn’t need it back then, they don’t need it now,” JJ agreed.

   “Aggressive Motto-” Rossi began. “Vivere est vincere,” he read. 

   “To live is to conquer,” Y/N said as she recognized the phrase. “They raise soldiers, suicide isn’t a part of that mantra.” 

   “Bailey Shelton was only 13-years-old, he was one of the youngest students there,” Spencer said. 

   At this, Y/N wondered into her thoughts again. How could someone so young want to take their life? She thought to herself. Her mind got lost in her own theories while the rest of the team discussed. 

-------

   The team arrived at the academy and all filed out of the SUVs. Spencer and Y/N going to the back to help Garcia with all the equipment that she had to bring with her. 

     “Colonel Massey, Erin Strauss,” Strauss introduced herself to the Colonel. “This is the team I spoke with you about,” she spoke, gesturing to her side. 

   “Agent Hotchner,” Hotch said, shaking the man’s hand. “This is Agent Morgan, Agent Jareau,” He said while the two shook his hand. “Dr. Spencer Reid, Agent Y/L/N, and Penelope Garcia,” the three by the car gave a hand gesture signaling they acknowledged the introduction. 

    Y/N looked at the Colonel for a second, glancing over his posture and facial expression. She got that gut feeling again, but she passed this one off as a wave of hunger.  

     The four with the Colonel began discussing what they were going to do, while the three by the car began unloading. 

  “Why does there have to be so much stuff?” Y/N said as she pulled another tub out of the back of the trunk. Spencer laughed as he watched her struggle slightly pulling out the tub. 

   “Because the Old-timer over there doesn’t allow new technology, we have to bring a whole database in,” Penelope said in a mumble so only the three of them could hear. The two others laughed at her statement while they pulled the last of the things out of the trunk. 

    “Any leads on Josh?” Derek asked as they began to walk towards the three by the car.

   “In that terrain,” the Colonel began. “He’s only capable of moving a mile an hour.” 

   “Puts him in a 60-mile radius,” Spencer said as he pulled a bag from the trunk. “That’s 3,600 square miles to cover.” 

   “Tawes knows those woods better than anybody,” The Colonel said. 

   “We’ve got two agents meeting and we’ll start the investigation here,” Hotch said, turning towards the colonel.  

    “Where’s the place with the most outlets?” Garcia asked, hopeful for a good answer.

    “Best bet is in the library,” responded the Colonel. 

   “Thank you,” Garcia responded. Her, Y/N, and Spencer grabbed the bags and some cadets grabbed the tubs and led them to the library. 

   “Still feeling a little off?” Spencer asked Y/N as they walked towards the library. 

   “Hm- oh yea, kind of,” She responded looking over at him. “I’m not really sure what it is, I think I might just be tired, and this case it just-” she paused, giving a slight shutter. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t sit right with me.” 

   “What do you mean?” Spencer asked eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her. 

   “I think this goes way deeper than a pact-acted mass suicide,” she explained. 

--------

   “Come on, baby,” Penelope said, encouraging the machine in front of her. “Come on!” 

   “I don’t think calling a machine ‘baby’ will help,” Y/N laughed as she plugged in some wires to a receiver.

   “Boo,” Spencer said tapping on a globe in the library. Penelope and Y/N jumped as they turned to look at where the noise came from. 

   “Jeez, you scared me,” Penelope said turning towards him, Y/N doing the same. 

   “Yeah, no kidding.” Y/N said. “I thought he was a ghost.” She lightly laughed before turning back to what she was doing. 

   “You know, older buildings like this emit a low enough frequency that you can’t consciously hear. Because the sensory overload can’t be explained, it wreaks havoc with your emotions. Indicating fear, panic, and dread,” Spencer said. 

   “Hence the feeling of being haunted,” Y/N said as she came to the realization of what his lesson was leading too. He pointed at her nodding with a small smile. 

   “What about the visions?” Penelope asked in a concerning tone. 

   “Your eyes overcompensate for what your ears are missing,” Spencer explained. “That said, I do know a 3-year-old boy who once met a friendly apparition named Leverett Saltonstall.”  

   Y/N giggled at the last statement made by Spencer and also the fact of Penelope’s eyes lighting up. 

   “He was nice?” She asked in a child-like voice.

   “Very nice,” Spencer answered, making Y/N smile while she looked down at the map he just laid out. “You’d think the laundry room would be closer to the dorms,” Spencer said as he looked at the map along with Y/N.

   “It’s not in the basement?” Penelope asked as she typed on her laptop. 

   “It’s on the opposite side of campus,” Y/N said as she used her finger to follow a road. Her hand ever so slightly brushed against Spencer's. A blush formed on both of their faces as they retracted their hands quickly from the map. 

   Spencer cleared his throat, “That’s so strange.” 

   “Yeah,” Y/N said in agreement hoping to God that the moment wouldn’t create an awkward tension.  

   The small moment, they both hoped, went unnoticed to the woman beside them.

 But oh no it didn’t. 

She smiled excitedly at the thought of the two having feelings for each other and how cute they would be together. 

   “Leaves of three, let them be,” Rossi’s voice was heard as he and Emily walked into the room. Emily scratching her arm vigorously. The three turned their heads to look and grimaced at the thought of poison ivy.

   “Oh man, poison ivy,” Y/N said hissing after her words in sorrow for her friend. 

   “Alcohol swabs, stat!” Penelope said standing up from her chair to care for Emily’s needs.

    “Thank you,” Emily said to Penelope. “You know, if I’ve got it, so do you,” she said looking at Rossi. 

   “I’m Italian, it knows better.” He stated matter-of-factly. The three laughed at his statement. “Where’s Massey?” 

   “He’s meeting with the victims’ families,” Y/N said as she sat criss-cross applesauce in her chair.

   “They’re arriving now,” added Hotch as he walked into the room. “JJ, how are Josh’s parents?” 

   Y/N and Spencer turned their heads to see that JJ had entered the room from the opposite door, along with the rest of the team.

   “Upset,” She said. “They sent him here to keep him away from trouble.” 

   “Tawes made it seem like these guys are the only family they have,” Emily said, placing a cotton pad drenched in rubbing alcohol on her arm.  

   “You make it sound like a cult,” Strauss questioned. 

   “Uh, It kind of is,” Y/N said as she looked around at the rest of the team. Rossi nodding his head in agreement looking at Y/N.    

   “This is a well-respected institution,” Strauss responded strongly.  

   “They’re not on trial,” Rossi retorted.  

   “The integral part of this investigation is going to be understanding what these victims lived every day,” Hotch explained. 

   “And with who,” Y/N added. 

   “Bailey Shelton killed himself in Josh Redding’s room,” Derek said, adding to Y/N’s statement. 

   “Was Josh in the room that night?” Y/n asked looking at Derek.  

   “According to the records,” Derek confirmed. 

   “I will dig for dirt,” Penelope said typing away on her computer. Hotch then asked Rossi if he and Emily found anything in the woods.

   “Josh’s tent was secluded. His things were left behind, he just took off.”

   “Massey did say he didn’t get any respect from Josh,” Hotch said. 

   “His parents even said he was hard to control,” JJ added. 

   “His course load indicates increased isolation,” Spencer said looking down at the file in his hand. Y/N leaned over to look at the file he was holding. Spencer noticed this and turned it towards her so she could read it also.  

   “Isolated, smart, angry,” Emily listed off some of the traits they just picked up on. 

   “Sounds to me like it could be a budding psychopath,” Y/N said looking at Emily who nodded in agreement signaling that she was thinking the same thing.

     “What are you saying?” Strauss asked, ready to question what the two women were uncovering. “Josh Redding killed his classmates?”

    Everyone on the team looked at each other, all thinking the same thing now. 

  “Then he’s not missing,” Strauss continued. “He’s on the run.” 

   “And he has been for a week,” Derek added. 

   “One hell of a head start,” Rossi said. 

   “And he has all the skills he could ever need,” Y/n finished.  

---------

   As the sun rose and a new day began and the team all gathered at the academy, the feeling filled Y/N’s stomach again. The feeling spread all over this time, and she didn’t know what it was. She came to a conclusion last night that it was probably about this case because most of the time when she didn’t think about it she felt fine. She needed to talk to someone about, her feelings were usually right and she wouldn’t tell anyone if she thought they were wrong. So as she walked into the library and set her bag down next to Penelope, grabbed her notebook out, and began writing her thoughts. 

   “What are you doing?” Penelope asked her as she looked over at the young woman writing vigorously in the small book. 

   “Trying to know why I have a bad gut feeling,” Y/N explained as she continued to write down her thoughts. 

   “Does this usually help you?” Penelope asked her as she turned back to her computer to type more. 

   “It helped me in school when I knew how to do something but I couldn’t explain to the teacher how I knew how to do it or why.” She remembered back to the times in high school and college when she would grab out her notebook and write so fast that the teacher didn’t even have time to react. 

   “Hey so yesterday,” Penelope said turning away from her computer towards Y/N. “I saw you and boy genius had some sparks fly.”

   Y/N blushed, stopping her writing in her notebook but not looking up. Damn it, I thought she didn’t notice, she thought to herself. 

   “Oh my gosh, you are so crushing on him!” She exclaimed softly seeing the blush on Y/N’s face. 

   “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly as she continued to write.

   “Uh-huh, okay, keep your secret lover,” she said, giving her a silly name. The two went back to what they were doing and keeping quite. Y/N hoping she could talk about her feelings to her later at a better time. Soon Spencer, JJ, Rossi, and Emily walked into the room, breakfast in their hands. Giving everyone their food and all sitting down they began to discuss more into the theory that Josh did it. 

       “Okay, so how did he do it?” Emily asked. “How did Josh control five-strong kids?” 

   “I mean he did supervise the laundry room,” Y/N said as she looked down at her notebook seeing the notes she took about who was who and what they did. “That could explain how the sheets got out.”

   “Yeah, so what does ‘we’re sorry’ mean,” JJ asked, pulling the photo of the branch out of the file. “If it wasn’t for suicide? What if Josh wanted them to apologize for something.” 

    “For their sins?” Emily said, adding the thought of religion. “There's no record of bad behavior, but all these guys were alpha males.” 

   “They were all upperclassmen, might’ve even bullied Bailey,” Y/N added her thought before taking a sip of her coffee. 

   “The message was carved under Tucker Calhoun’s tree for a reason,” said Rossi before taking a bit of his breakfast. 

   “Yeah, we need to know more about that kid,” Emily added. 

   “I agree, I feel like he has more to do with this then Massey is going to let on,” Y/N said, agreeing with Emily’s statement. She looked back down at her book, underlining the name Tucker. 

   “What are you looking at?” Penelope asked, looking at Spencer on the right side of her. Y/N looked up from her notebook to listen to what was going on. 

   “The M.E.’s report,” He said while looking at the report. “Bilateral fracture of the pars interarticularis of the C2 vertebra.”

   “Uh-huh, what’s that?” Penelope asked looking down at the report. 

   “Classic hangman's fracture,” he explained. “But only one of the five victims had it.” 

   “Which one?” Y/N asked him, having a feeling that she already knew the answer. 

   “Tucker Calhuan,” he responded looking at her. 

   “Jeez, who is this guy?” Penelope asked everyone, turned their heads to the pictures of the victims on the board. 

   “The others suffered rotational fractures, hanging was secondary,” Spencer said with slight curiosity in his voice. 

   “Staging the crime scene?” Y/N asked writing that down in her book before circling it.

   “Josh is more sophisticated than we thought,” Rossi added. 

    “And vindictive, he wanted Tucker to suffer,” Emily said. “The question is why.”

   Y/N looked down at her book and let out a sigh. 

   “What is it, kid?” Rossi asked Y/N from across the table. 

   She looked up, “I feel like there’s a piece missing, but I don’t know what.”  

---------- 

    “I think I figured out that piece you were talking about Y/N,” Rossi said walking into the Library. He and Emily went to talk to some cadets to get the 4-1-1 on Josh and Tucker. 

    “A point system,” Emily said. 

   Penelope began typing away on her computer to find all she can about this point system. 

   “Tucker Calhoun has the most points,” Penelope said going up to the board and pointing at him. 

   Y/N and Spencer sat beside each other turned towards the board. 

   “Who approves them?” Spencer asked. 

   “Massey,” Penelope responded quickly. 

   “Maybe Tucker was his little pet,” Y/N said. “Leader of Everything.”

   “That comes with an attitude, steamroller types like that, don’t let anybody get in their way,” Emily added. 

    “Nothing was nice about that kid,” Rossi said. “Sounds like he strong-armed everybody.”

   “Well, then the points are for bad behavior,” Penelope began. “Only they are not calling it that.”

    “We should look at the points of everyone who died in those woods, my guess is they were all bullies,” Y/N said standing up and going towards the chart on the board. 

   “Except for Josh,” Spencer said.

----------

    Y/N walked into the library, three coffee in her hand, two for Spencer and Penelope. 

“The school does have a cell phone,” Y/N heard Penelope say as she walked into the room. 

   “No way,” Y/N said as she handed the coffees to her friends before she sat down. “I knew Massey wasn’t telling us everything.”

    “Only it’s not listed under Massey,” Penelope continued. “The account was opened by...Tawes.” 

   “If Massey’s lying about something as simple as a cell phone, what else is he hiding?” Spencer questioned. 

   “That’s what I’ve been saying,” Y/N said pulling out her notebook and pen. “From the day we got here I have had this feeling, I didn’t know what it was, but now I think I do,” she looked at the two beside her before she continued. “I think Massey is a bigger part of this then he’s letting on.”

   The three were soon joined by JJ, and then Rossi and Emily. 

  “Okay, I need to students who were having trouble with authority,” JJ said to Penelope who began typing on her computer. 

   “Okay, I can do that, but I got to tell you, they post rewards, faster than they do demerits,” Penelope explained as she types on her computer.  

   “Look for kids with issues before they came here,” JJ continued. 

   Y/N looked over to Emily and Rossi who just walked in with some things that she was assuming were left by Josh at the new victim site. 

   “Did any of them have a class with Bailey?” JJ asked, pulling Y/N away from what she was looking at and back to what was going on in front of her. 

   “No but each of the plebes had laundry duty,” Penelope said looking at the schedule. “Does that help?”

   “Their dorm is the farthest point from the laundry room, why are they so isolated?” Spencer asked.

   “M.E. said bailey had blisters and burns, fingertips were raw, his trachea had internal scarring,” Y/N said picking up the report sitting on the table.

   “That’s awful,” Penelope said. 

     “Guys that could be damage done in an industrial-sized dryer,” Spencer said turning to look at Y/N. 

      “Oh my god,” Penelope said in shock. 

   “That’s how Massey’s breaking these boys,” JJ said shock and sadness written on her face. 

    “No, in all the materials it says they don’t believe in corporal punishment,” Penelope said with a sad tone. 

    “Bailey wrote about how all those boys bullied him,” Rossi said holding up Bailey’s journal. 

   “His father must have read it and wants revenge,” Spencer said.

    “Does it mention Josh?” Y/N asked looking at Rossi. 

   “Not at all,” he replied. 

   “Then why would Chris Shelton go after him?” Y/N asked looking to JJ on her right then Spencer on her left.

   “What if Massey lied to Chris Shelton?” Emily questioned. 

   “And set Josh up,” Rossi added. 

    “And he convinced Shelton that Josh was responsible for Bailey’s suicide,” Y/N added, her theory about Massey being apart coming into play.  

   “Still doesn’t explain how he found the secluded woods,” JJ said. 

   “Wait, where’s Mr. Shelton’s phone?” Spencer asked, looking at Emily who was holding the items that were found. 

   “It’s right here,” Emily replied pulling the phone out. “It’s got a couple of contacts on it, Somerville Academy being one of them.” 

   “Any unknowns?” Spencer asked.

   “Tawes does have a cell,” Y/N said looking at Emily. 

   “No way, Lieutenant no tech?” She said with humor. “There’s one, it’s a text...looks like-uh- some phone numbers.” 

   “What are they?” Spencer asked, prompting Emily to reply with a string of numbers. 

   “Those aren’t phone numbers,” Spencer said standing us walking over towards the map of the woods. “That’s latitude and longitude.”

   “Right where those boys were camping,” Rossi said realizing where this was probably going. 

  The team soon realized that the reason for this whole happening was because when Bailey died, Josh was planning to escape because that was who he was protecting from Massey’s abuse. Massey then sent Josh into the woods because he wanted Christ Shelton to take revenge on Josh because he convinced him it was his fault for the suicide. Josh fought back though which was not premeditated. The mass suicide was Shelton’s way of getting back at Massey, taking away who he thought of as his sons.

----------

 The team had discovered three possible places that Josh could be heading to find Chris Shelton’s truck. They split up Hotch, Derek, and Y/N in together, JJ and Spencer, and then Emily and Rossi. 

   Derek pulled up a little bit away from Tawes and Josh, seeing as the two were fighting and they wanted the element of surprise. Derek went around to the side of the woods, tackling Josh before he threw a large rock at Tawes. 

   “Don’t do it, Tawes,” Y/N spoke, her and Hotch standing side by side guns aimed at the man.

   He didn’t listen though, pulling a small pistol out of his bag. Hotch fired a shot at his leg before he could do anything that he would regret. They handled the two and brought them back to the academy and the next day, they were going to arrest Massey.  

   The team watched as Derek guided Massey down the stairs towards the car he would go in. Y/N sighed, a happy one this time as she saw Josh go over and salute Massey before he drove away. His parents stood by his side, mom hugging him and dad patting his shoulder. 

   “You okay?” Spencer asked Y/N as he leaned next to her on the black vehicle behind them.

   She turned her head to look at him, a small smile on her face, “Yeah, I think so, I’m just glad this is over. Hopefully, this feeling will go away after all this passes,” she explained to the man next to her. 

   “My offer still stands, if you need to talk, I’m here,” he said, nudging her arm slightly. She smiled nodding at him. 

   “Thank you,” she replied. 

   The team made it home later that day, going back into the office to finish up reports and such. Y/N walked up to her desk, head-turning to the side as she saw a small enveloped letter on her desk. She carefully picked it up looking at it then opening it.

  She pulled out the small card which read, Be wary of feelings within, they might be more than you think. Turning it over she looked at the back seeing an all to a familiar signature from her past, a silhouette of a bird. She put the card back into the envelope, ripping it up and throwing it in her trash can, hoping she won’t think about it again.

[jetblack4realz]

prove you right - jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary - you and jake are both toxic exes and it doesn't help that you're supposed to run a mission together

warnings - angst and toxicity ig

word count - 2.6k

i can't decide if i like this or not, ending could be better, but i hope you guys like it anyways!

______________________________________________________________

you laughed as you skipped in a circle, arm looped in phoenix's. your feet occasionally slipped in the sand, your other hand holding a bottle of beer high in the air. laughter surrounded the two of you as you giggled, the fire behind you flickering in stark contrast to the dark, star-filled skies of the beach.

you suddenly gasped, stopping your movements and causing phoenix to stumble into you.

"what?" she asked, brows furrowed.

"let's burn something," you said, nodding quickly.

"red, what?" coyote asked with a laugh. "what are you burning?"

"i have just the thing."

your smile was almost devious as you ran as best you could back up to your truck. you pulled the small slip of glossed paper from where it was tucked in the shade mirror, turning too quickly to run back to your friends and blinking fast to get the spinning world to stop. rooster came up to you then, grabbing you arm gently and beginning to walk with you back to the fire.

"i'm gonna grab you a water," he told you, handing you off to bob as you waved your paper proudly. he turned to head back to the hard deck, only a bit down the shore, and coyote was the first to ask.

"what is it?"

you held it up for all to see, hand behind it like you were some beauty influencer. your grin was twisted as you explained in a slow, sing-songy manner, "oh, just the good ole days."

it was a picture of you and jake in the parking lot of the hard deck, you placing his cowboy hat on his head with a smile as he stared down at you. you couldn't even remember (especially in the intoxicated state you found yourself in now) who had taken it or what you were doing that night, but it was your favorite candid of you two.

"y/n, don't." natasha seemed to have sobered a bit, her brows knitted deeply at the sight of the photograph. "you'll regret it in the morning."

"i have rights!" you hummed, jutting your chin out defensively. "i am a broken-hearted woman. i will not regret this."

"yes, you will," bob advised, pulling you gently to sit down next to him. "no offense, but you're not an intelligent drunk, red. you've already done some things tonight you won't be happy about tomorrow."

phoenix took it upon herself to steal the picture from your hands, earning a yelp of, "hey!"

"you're not burning this," she told you, her brows raised as though she was daring you to try and take it from her. "you're not even broken up yet, are you?"

a glare rested over your features as you blew out a frustrated breath. rooster approached again, a bottle of water in hand and his brows knitted in question at the sight of phoenix with a picture of you and hangman. he offered the water to you and you took it, reluctantly chugging a few swallows down.

your eyes flashed back to where he'd come from, and you could see jake through the window. he was leaning against the jukebox, thumb messing with one of the buttons as a pretty, extremely skinny brunette who looked like a literal victoria's secret model approached him with a sly smirk on her perfect pink lips.

you took another swig of your water, glaring straight forwards as you lowered it from your mouth and swallowed. "i guess that's up to him now."

"what the hell is he doing?" payback asked, brows furrowed as they all stared into the bar window.

"the same thing he always does," you told him, glancing back for a moment before your voice lowered. "screwing with me."

bob, the sweetheart he is, noticed as soon as your eyes began to well with tears, offering you his shoulder. you offered him a small smile, but shook your head, wiping at your eyes aggressively.

you stood up, shaking out your hands in an attempt to calm the buzz throughout your whole body. everyone's eyes were on you, watching your mood swing back and forth between anger and sadness and carelessness, mindless words spilling from your lips. they were used to you drunk, this is just how you were. it was funny a lot of the time. but, they'd never seen you heartbroken and drunk - and none of them knew what to do with it.

"y/n?" phoenix tried. "what even happened?"

your attention snapped to her quickly and you stopped whatever rant you'd started about how he never bought the right kind of milk anyways so it was fine that he didn't shop for you anymore.

"what happened?" you asked, furrowing your brows. "he didn't tell you?"

"doesn't wanna talk about it at all," coyote said with a concerned knit of his brows. "just that you were still together, just barely."

you laughed dryly. "that's an understatement."

"did he cheat?" rooster asked, always one to get to the point. he nodded his head to the window. "like that?"

the girl had leaned closer to him, her hand on his arm as she giggled about something. he wasn't paying her any mind, saying a few short phrases to her that you couldn't read, but she wasn't moving. and when she leaned closer, her lips by his ear, you stormed towards the door, chucking you bottle into the sand.

"red!"

"y/n!"

"shit," bradley mumbled as they all began following you to the bar, fanboy and coyote stomping out the fire and spilling the rest of your water onto the coals before running after them.

you weren't quiet when you threw open the door, but given that it was 1am, music was blasting, and 90% of the bar was almost blackout drunk no one seemed to care.

"jacob henry seresin!" you barked.

his eyebrows shot halfway up his hairline as his eyes shot to the door where you entered, a fire in your eyes he wasn't too familiar with.

"hangman," the brunette said, a bit of a question in her tone as she eyed you.

when you reached them, your insecurities called out: this girl was easily at least 4 inches taller than you, with thinner legs, unblemished skin with no sign of a sunburn from training that day, long, healthy hair, and even you had to admit that she looked good in her tank top and shorts, whereas you had scars dotting your hands from mechanical work and unfortunate vegetable disasters that jake had had to clean you up from, a pink sunburn across your cheeks and exposed shoulders that had luckily lightened from the dark red the week before, and the muscle you'd worked so hard for felt too bulky on your body.

you remembered vaguely phoenix telling you that you looked hot when you walked in tonight, a pair of nice fitting jeans, the cowgirl boots jake had bought you for you birthday last year, and a black tank top. for a moment you wondered if jake thought you looked hot. then you remembered a few weeks ago when you wore this same getup and you weren't wondering anymore.

jake removed himself from her, hands reaching out for you, but you stepped away. you offered the girl a sickly sweet smile, crossing your arms over your chest as he took a step behind you, eyes on the side of your face.

"i hate to break it to ya honey, but you ain't going home with him tonight," you said, your voice still awfully loud as her eyes narrowed at you.

"and how would you know that?" she asked.

"i'm his girl, darlin'," you said. "he doesn't need a knock off skipper barbie doll."

"you ever think he might be better off with one?"

"there isn't a chance in hell that he is!"

"y/n," jake mumbled in your ear, hand on your wrist to catch your attention. "people are looking. nothing was going to happen."

"how about you ask him?" the brunette taunted, eyes on the aviator next to you.

"don't need to. he doesn't sleep with girls like you."

"and yet he sleeps with a slut like you."

no one on the team had ever seen you glare at someone so viciously before and it kind of scared them. your little situation had caught penny's attention who waved bradley over to her, asking him quickly what was happening.

"what did you say?" your volume was high, your were nearly shouting as you took a step towards her. she leaned closer, looking down at you with a stupid smirk.

"how could he be with a slut like you and not want me instead?"

maverick was constantly getting after you and bradley to "not think, just do", something you were slowly getting better at. but, with a few whiskeys in your system and a boatload of unrelenting anger, you were an expert at the concept.

your fist flew into her mouth in an instant, gasps filling the room around you. jake and coyote grabbed your arms, dragging you backwards as phoenix stood in front of the girl, mumbling something about bleeding.

"say it again!" you taunted as she stood straight again, her lip effectively busted and bleeding. her eyes were wide as she stared at you.

"you hit me!" she shrieked. "you're crazy!"

"crazy?" you asked, raising your brows. "i'll show you-"

"we're not doing this." jake dipped down quickly and grabbed you around the legs, tossing you over his shoulder and walking out the door payback was holding open for him.

"let go of me!" you yelled, pounding on his back. "put me down, jake!"

he let you hit him for the minute it took him to walk far enough down the beach that you couldn't really hear the music of the bar anymore.

"jake seresin, put me down!"

"y/n, stop!" he placed you back on your feet, but not gently. you stumbled back, jake catching your hand with a huff. "sorry."

"what the hell?!" you shouted, glaring at the man. "what the hell was that, jake?!"

you pushed his chest, but he caught your hands, brows furrowed tightly.

"what do you mean, 'what the hell'? i should be saying that to you!" he said. "what was that?"

"you were flirting with her."

"she was flirting with me."

"oh, and what difference does it make?"

"a lot of difference!" he defended, brows raised. "i wasn't flirting with her, i wasn't leaving with her, i wasn't even giving her any attention and you still went and punched her! what is happening with you? first you start playing these weird, rager breakup songs on the speakers and then i find you sexy dancing with some random guy, and now this! what is happening? you're acting crazy!"

"crazy?" you asked, pulling away from him quickly and ripping your hands from his. "crazy?! who the hell do you think you are?"

"y/n-"

"no, no! if you say i'm crazy, fine. that's fine. i'll prove you right, take it way too far. all i gotta do is blame it on the broken heart that you gave me, tell everyone what the hell you did and they'll take my side."

"tell them what i did?"

"that you cheated one me!" you cried, stepping away from him with your arms in the air. tears quickly filled your eyes. "you did! you cheated on me, jake, you made out with another girl!"

"i was blackout drunk, i thought she was you!" he yelled back. "i didn't know what i was doing! she even said so! i kept saying 'y/n, y/n, y/n' over and over and i guess she thought you were an ex or something?"

"maybe i should be," you said, standing straighter. his face fell. "i can't do this with you again, jake."

"i'm not lying to you, it meant nothing. it wasn't supposed to happen, i was just drunk out of my mind and it was kyle's bachelor and-"

"jake, i know. you told me," you said strictly. "but that doesn't change what happened. i get you didn't know what you were doing, but jake... you should've never put yourself in the position for that to be a possibility. i need you to know your limits. blackout drunk is dangerous, in more ways than just you screwed up your relationship."

"i know. i know, and i'm sorry," he said, seeming genuinely apologetic. he stepped forward, taking your hands in his. "it'll never happen again."

"i know. it won't," you agreed, stepping away and slipping your hands from his. his face fell.

"no. don't do this. y/n it was one mistake, one mistake in two years, please," he tried.

"you broke my heart, jake," you reminded.

"i know and it kills me to know that i did that to you," he said, stepping towards you again. his brows were knitted deeply and it almost looked like he was going to start crying.

"you broke my heart."

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry baby." his voice cracked and you risked looking up at him, seeing the completely shattered expression.

a silence fell over you for a few moments as you thought over your next words.

"do you know why my callsign is red?" you asked, tone back to normal as he peered at you carefully.

"little red riding hood."

"and what's special about her?"

he hesitated. "i don't know. her grandma was a wolf."

"she believed a wolf was her grandma. she got tricked by a wolf. she was gullible. my callsign is red because i was gullible in flight school and my friends teased me about it," you said. a watery smile pulled at your lips as you shook your head. "i didn't think i was gullible anymore, jake."

"you're not," he promised. "you're not. i'm done. i'm done. i'll never drink that much again, i'll only drink with you, i'll do whatever the hell you want me to do, okay? because i love you. i love you with my whole damn heart and if you leave i don't know what the hell i would do with myself."

"jake-"

"please." it came out as a desperate whisper and when you looked up into his beautiful green eyes, you felt all of your walls break down again. he had that way with you. you hated it.

just as you went to respond, you felt something brush across your boot. you looked down to see your photograph trying to blow across the toe of the boot, getting caught on the sand surrounding it. you leaned down and picked it up, eying it carefully.

you looked back up at jake, fingers reaching to adjust the cowboy hat on his head.

"you're damn lucky you wore this hat today," you mumbled.

he didn't say anything, instead opting to grab your face with both hands and drag you into a long, passionate, slightly salty kiss.

"i'm so sorry," he whispered, kissing you again, and again, and again. "i'm so sorry, darlin'."

"you will never get close to doing something like that again," you told him, hands gripping the front of his shoulders as you stared into his emeralds.

"never," he promised, kissing your lips softly and slowly. "you're the only girl i'm ever kissing again. i'm so sorry baby. i love you so much."

you kissed him again before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into the tightest embrace you'd ever felt him give, his arms wound tightly around your waist.

"i love you too."

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 38- Potions

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Redland, the capitol city of magic, where the hermits hope to gather the supplies they need if they hope to survive the Hangman’s Playground. While Etho and Stress are gathering potions, they meet unlikely allies- with closer ties than they expect.

______________________________

Redland stretches to the sky, the quirky nature of magic on full show even in the architecture of the city. Towers peaked with rotund pinnacles, painted bright and distinctive colors. All levels of the city are full of the bright, baubled roofs. The main street and busy sections of the city are perfectly manicured, hedges with vibrant flowers and verdant greens, but when the hermits look down calm alleys and quiet streets, nature has settled against the brickwork and grown between the cobble, nature filling in with it’s own eccentric accents. 

The hermits wander through the city, an eclectic town full of wandering walkways, silent speakeasies, and unique universities. The schools of magic sit across from each other, students of offensive magic having lunch with students studying performance arcana. Bright banners wave in the breeze. Shops are full of any and every kind of item, a bazaar of the magic and mundane. Some shops boast large inventories, enchantments made enmasse and sold to large crowds- glamors were a favorite. Others host the antique and unique. No rhyme or reason what they hold, useless lamps next to powerful staffs.

TFC turns to Xisuma. “Can you divvy up the gold? We can cover more ground finding supplies for our mission if we separate.” 

“What I wouldn’t give for that sky kid’s magic right now.” Xisuma sighs, digging out the gold and handing it off to various groups of hermits. 

Stress and Etho glance at one another. “I think we’re gonna look for some potions firstly. If we go to the alchemy academy, I’m absolutely positive we’ll find somethin’.” 

“And if not, we can… convince a student to help us get what we want.” Etho pats his back, feeling his kusarigama tucked in his light, silent material. 

“Don’t forget to ask about the ingredients!” BDubs shouts as the two walk away, towards the bright green and yellow tower that holds the school of potion brewing. “Silvershade is not the same as Shadesilver!” 

Stress shakes her head, and challenges Etho to a footrace through the city. He accepts with a grin, and they take off down the main avenue. She laughs, feeling a sense of freedom in how strong the magic is in the city. Redland embodies everything magic is. It’s natural, it's eclectic, it’s bright, it’s unique. And every flower blooming in between the cobblestones, every shop full of mysterious wares and magical amulets, is full of that spirit. 

She turns her head, calling back to Etho from over her shoulder. “I’m gonna win, try an’ catch me!” 

From beneath the midnight blue mask that covers Etho’s nose and lips, a coy grin appears. He’s given Stress the lead, only to shock his friend when he wins. His mismatched eyes glimmer with mischief, and he turns. Running straight into a tree. 

Straight into a tree’s shadow. He leaves the plane of existence, and skids on his feet as he enters the shadow realm. Grey, calming mist dances through shadows, and his feet tapping through puddles of water across the floor. In all the time he’s spent in this realm, he can never truly understand it. He doesn’t know why it’s so misty, impossible to see more than a few meters in front of him. Or where the mist comes from, dancing in the darkness. Why it’s damp, like a rain had just occurred. He’s never seen it rain here. He also has no clue why it smells funky in here. Like a wayward explosion matched with rotten fish. Is there even anything more than a puddle around here? 

No matter. Etho’s winning this race. He takes off in the direction he and Stress were running, feeling himself pass through buildings, hedges, even people in the other realm. It’s a tingly feeling in his belly. Once he’s sure he’s made it to the alchemy school, he casts his magic, tossing it in front of him to reenter the mortal realm. 

He passes right through it. He stumbles and crashes to the floor, not so ninja-like. “Dammit, no not now!” 

There’s no discernable shadows for him to jump through. The sun must be tucked behind a cloud. Too big a swath of darkness for him to use, too general. He paces, tossing a circle with every turn of his heels, running through each time. He did this to beat Stress, being a badass and a bastard. He specializes in that delicate balance of the two.  But instead, he’s stuck in the stinky shadow realm, and worse he lost the footrace. 

His spell casts again, but when he walks through this time, he’s met by the blinding bright light of the sun. And Stress’s gleeful cackle. “You cheated! None of that magical stuff!” 

“What does it matter, it didn’t work.” He states, but he’s smiling all the same. Etho runs his hand over his white hair, tugging it away from his face so he can see the alchemy tower in full. “Should we check the shops first? What are we even looking for?” 

“Queen Erlea said we’re gonna need some healing potions and deterrents for the forest. I can assume mental and emotional potions are in that category.” Stress counts along the street full of potion shops, before spinning around and letting fate decide where they search first. A bright green shop, the window filled with potted plants and chaotic cats. Stress squeals at the sight of the kittens and bolts to the shop. Etho follows behind, grabbing the door before it can slam back to it’s jamb, without disturbing the sunbathing felines. 

They peruse this store. And the next. And the next. Finding healing potions was easy, and with Etho’s aggressive bartering they’re even discounted. Bottles of bright pink liquid, bundles of travel sized form- gummy chews easy to pop into one’s mouth-, and tiny tinctures full of potent life saving potions. 

But no matter what store they enter, how many times they ask or persuade, no one sells mental potions. Some say they’re pseudomagic, others that they’re too hard to create. And after being kicked out of another alchemy shop, Stress and Etho are sitting on the sidewalk, bouncing ideas across each other. 

“Maybe we don’t need them? Maybe the others will find supplies that can do the job?” Etho offers. 

“Or perhaps we can search Joe’s library to find something else.” Stress flops back, ignoring how she blocks the sidewalk as she stares up at the sky. “Where can we get mental barrier potions but Redland?” 

“Why not try making them ourselves?” Etho looks over, gazing at the Alchemy tower. “I bet that school has every book, ingredient, and setup ever invented. We’re clever and smart, we’re hermits after all. If no one makes them, we’ll make them ourselves.” 

Stress reclines up to her elbows, squinting her eyes. “Yer right, Etho. Think you can get us into one of them potion rooms of the school?” 

“Do I think I can? I know I can.” Etho snickers. They walk through the open doors of the school, bustling past students young and old, human or kipling or insectia or even bacca, boy or girl or otherwise. Etho pulls down his mask to fit in with the crowd, though his hair always sticks out. Stress keeps close to him, glancing around the halls. For a second, she swears she sees someone looking at her, but she ducks her head and keeps moving. They turn a cornerl, following the signs for potion labs. Listening for one room to be empty. Etho stops at the doorway of one. Closes his eyes, and walks through a shadow. 

But he returns from where he entered. “No, no it’s all dark in there! Why don’t they have anything boiling, any lamps or anything! What kind of lab is this?” 

“My lab, and what do you plan to do with my laboratory?” A strong, clear voice cuts through both hermits like a knife, and they both freeze. Maybe if they don’t move, the voice will move on. But instead, another voice rises up. 

“You’re hermits, are you not?” A younger, sharp voice drawls. “I was told about you. Didn’t expect two of you bitches to be sneakin’ into my professor’s lab.” 

Etho makes a bolt for the nearest shadow, but he passes right through the shadow and back into light. Stumbling down the hall, he’s dragged back to the professor and student combo, while Stress is turned around to face them. Etho taps his fingers. “We were just… looking around! Trying to find the bathrooms.” 

The student looks up at the professor, eyebrows rising from a serious face. He nods, clasping his hands behind his back. The student grins, tucks a lock of black hair behind an elongated ear, and snaps her fingers. 

“We’re sneakin’ inta the lab to make potions!” Stress claps her hand over her mouth. She didn’t mean to say that. Why did she say that? “No one makes what we need to enter the Forest of Memories!” 

“The Forest of Memories? Red said you were batshit crazy, but that…” Etho picks up his head, vaguely recognizing the name. 

“Well, you could have just asked for my keys.” Sylaeus shrugs, producing a ring full of mismatched keys and dangling chains. “Selene, be a dear and get these two my Encyclopedia of Potions. I’ll start up the burners.” 

Shock registers on both hermits faces, but Selene dutifully saunters down the hall, turning and entering a large door in the passage. Stress walks into the lab, admiring the collection of jars, half finished potions, and ingredients kept in the room. But Etho no longer has the inclination to enter. “Why are you helping us? We just tried to break into your lab.” 

“If you need a potion that badly that you would try to break into my office, you must need it for good reason. Adventuring into the Forest of Memories is one hell of a reason at that.” Sylaeus ignites a flame beneath a long, complicated series of funnels, tubes, and flasks. He tempers the flame, fire glimmering of his intense gaze. “Besides, it means I get to teach more about potions.” 

Selene returns with the book, hefting a tome as large as her torso and twice as thick. “So what the hell kind of potions are you guys going to make?” 

“Potions that will negate our fears and dampen the effects of the forest?” Stress tries her best to repeat what Queen Erlea suggested. “Maybe some repel potions as well?” 

The long eared mage hauls open the book, flipping through the pages with intense, glaring eyes. She stops, turning it around for Etho and Stress to see. “You had to request the most difficult potions to fucking make. It’s a damn good thing I spent the past month gathering more than enough supplies for you to use.” 

And with the guidance of Sylaeus and his student, Etho and Stress get to work. The careful art of alchemy came naturally to both hermits- Stress’s attention to detail let her see exactly when the right shade of amber for the potion appeared, while Etho’s perceptive training and patience guide him through finding just the right mixture of Silvershade and shadesilver. Even Sylaeus complimented his new students on their fine work. 

“While we’re waiting for the mixture to cool, would either of you like a drink?” She waves her hand, and four cups appear before them. The professor grins, swiping a drink and guzzling the never ending cup down. 

“My student’s finest mixture.” Sylaeus grins, patting his apprentice on the top of her fluffy, long mane of hair. 

“Is it a healing potion?” Etho questions. “Or maybe a stamina potion?” 

“Lemonade. Sip sip bitch.” Selene retorts, deadpanned. 

“Miss Selene, are you a multi-mage? You used telekinesis to drag Etho back before, but now you used summoning magic.” Stress takes a drink, shocked to watch that her cup is never ending. “A-and some kind of spatial magic?” 

“Selene here is my best student for more reasons than one. Not only can she brew better potions than even master alchemists, but she also spent years studying magic until she gained power of her own.” Sylaeus sees the confusion on the two’s face, and lets Selene fill them in. 

“I was born without magic.” She states. “It’s rare, but it happens. I wasn’t ready to give up on myself yet. I spent days and nights, studying every book I could get my hands on, watching the other kids use their magic. With enough time and dedication, I found the power within myself. Whatever magic I study, I can create.” 

Stress has tears welling in her eyes by the time the story is over. “What a lovely tale, an’ look at you now! All that persistence and never givin’ up paid off!” 

“I’m sure Selene could have lived her life without magic, or have chosen a darker route to gain power. But it’s her own magic, and she’s a proud S-Class wizard!” Sylaeus beams like a father, a teacher proud of his student.

The potion behind them starts to rapidly shift colors, and all four descend upon it to add the last ingredient- prismarine shards shed from a guardian. Etho wonders where Selene got such a prized ingredient, something most kiplings aren’t willing to part with.

 In a puff of smoke, the potion stabilizes. Selene corks the bottle, writing in scrawling handwriting of it’s intention, and hands it off to Stress. She also guides them out, an orb of soft white light guiding them down the halls of the academy. 

Etho’s reminded of one other person who had seemingly unlimited types of magic. “You know… Magistrate Dolios claims to be a multi-mage, but his magic is a lot like yours.” 

“Watch it, asshole.” Selene growls, opening the door and letting them out of the Alchemy tower. “I think we both know that the magistrate lies about everything. Perhaps that includes how he got his magic.”

[avecorviidae]

Fic: mainlining the spiraling spherical truth of the universe

Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: T Relationship(s): Male Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Male Sole Survivor & Shaun Word Count: 5012

Ao3 Link

Toby descends into the Institute to find a son that's old enough to be his father, and despite that, still looks at him with a very careful sort of vulnerability as he walks with him through the pristine white laboratories, introduces him to his heads of staff, shows him orderly living quarters and serene recreational areas, looks at him sidelong like he's always waiting for Toby's reaction, like he wants him to be proud.

And there's a part of him that wants to pull his son close to him, and tell him, yeah, it's fantastic, this thing you've built, I'm proud of you, I love you.

But Toby knows what the Institute does. He's been smuggling synths out of here with the railroad for months, and they're fucking terrified, gun-shy and shaking, watching over their shoulders for the coursers that will surely, inevitably come to reclaim Institute property. and the way Shaun talks about the folks above ground - so dismissive, as though the towns and cities and communities and bonds, the buildings and the families and the love and the art that people on the surface have created, don't matter because it's not pure, not clean,and he just as much wants to grab Shaun by the shoulders and shake him, go, don't you know that I'm one of those people? That you ought to have been too? That it's beautiful up there? That in the face of all this awful fucking shit, I've found people that have, against all odds, refused to be anything but kind?

So Shaun says, "What do you think of my home? Of everything I've built here?"

And Toby says, "I'm sorry. This wasn't what I wanted for you. This place, it's beautiful, but it's not the world I'm from. It's not a world I can ever be a part of. And you can run your lungs dry justifying every awful thing I've ever seen the Institute do by saying it was a mistake, or for the greater good of mankind, but I'm sorry, kid, the mankind you've got down here isn't any better than the mankind I’ve got up there. I love you, and I am so fucking glad I’ve found you, but I can't support you with this. The things you do here - it's gotta change."

"Please," Shaun says, "Father, let me show you- the work we've done down here-"

And Toby just shakes his head, and says, "I've seen the work you've done. I’ve seen the people it's hurt. That's enough for me."

There is a hard, tight hug, and some tears, and Toby leaves the Institute with his son's permission and blessing, and in the seconds before Toby relays out, they look at each other with hard, tight eyes, and Shaun's got a look about him, stubborn and angry, and Toby, with a sinking sense of dread, thinks, that's my boy,'cause if he's a bullheaded little shit, then he got that from Toby and not a damn place else.

.

“Aw, hell,” Nick mutters, as soon as he finds it. “Guerra? Think you might wanna see this,” he calls over his shoulder to the other room of the abandoned house, where Toby and his terrifying friend had been digging through cabinets looking for unexpired food.

Eli appears in the doorway a moment before Toby does, hand already drifting to the holster at her hip. “Christ,” she says softly, as soon as she looks down, sees the baby sitting on the filthy floor at Nick’s feet, gnawing happily on its chubby fist. It’s about the fifth word he’s ever heard her say, he thinks, and definitely the one with the most feeling behind it.

“Nick?” Toby calls, as he rounds the corner, “Everything alri- Oh. Oh.”

In a moment flat he’s crouched on the floor, waving fingers at the little one’s face to catch its attention. “Hey sweetheart,” he says gently, all bright and smiling. “What are you doing alone all the way out here, huh?”

Pointless question, really. Toby knows as well as Nick does that there’s no good answers to it. Whoever the kid was with before was either dead, or ought to be dead for deciding to leave it behind.

Toby grabs it under the arms and scoops it up, tucking it snugly against his hip. It makes a hiccupping, surprised little noise, looking at Toby with wide, guileless eyes.

(He oughtn’t call the kid an it, really. Most of the humans he knows have been nice enough to do him the courtesy of a pronoun, he can at least return the favour.)

“Okay, sweetpea, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” He’s talking to her in a low, sorta sing-song voice, swaying gently, and it’s right around then that Nick remembers that Toby’s got a kid. Well, it’s not as if he forgot, it’s practically the first thing the guy says to half the people they meet, I’m looking for the man who took my son. But this is the first time Nick’s looked at him and really understood what that means. ‘Cause it’s gotta be some paternal instinct, right? The way he comforts her like he’s not even thinking about what he’s doing, like it comes as easy to him as breathing.

She’s been alone long enough to be soiled, so Toby sends Eli off to look for a metal washbasin, pours some of their purified water in there, warms it over the fire for good measure. Grins when he dips her little feet in there to let her test the temperature and she starts to giggle and kick, splashing him right in the face. She seems delighted with the bath in general - Nick guesses he would be too, if he’d been waddling around in a stinking diaper for however long. (He sometimes gets - phantom memories, he supposes, of what it’s like to have a human body. Sometimes feels a strange nostalgia for the sensation of hunger, or genuine, non-battery-related exhaustion. He has never once missed the ability to excrete.)

Toby’s only got eyes for the kid, all attentive and careful as he cleans her off, and Nick finds himself making an awkward sort of eye contact with Eli, who shrugs slightly, expression as blank and unreadable as it’s ever been. She’s sat herself down cross-legged on the rug, ostensibly relaxed, but Nick’s travelled with enough mercs, knows she’s one of the smarter ones, knows how carefully she’s positioned herself, sat between Toby and the door, rifle across her lap, angled towards the open window. It had used to make Nick nervous, how careless Toby seemed, like he’d never been taught to watch his own back. Guess he gets it better now, the idea of having someone that you trust enough to watch your back for you. He feels safer these days, walking into a room full of strange humans, with Toby at his side, fending off any synth-averse sentiments with a truly aggressivedegree of cheeriness.

“Are you old enough to talk?” Toby asks, to absolutely no response from the babbling kiddo. Still, she’s clearly charmed with Toby, like just about everyone is, and she’s watching him with big, happy eyes as he chats at her. “Can you say... Toby? To-by?”

She laughs, and Toby snorts, swipes a little booger from under her nose, and Nick’s struck again by how unthinkingly he does it, like it’s just second nature to him. “Alright, maybe that’s too hard. Let’s try... Can you say aaaaahhhh?” He goes all dramatic with it, roars like a little deathclaw, and the kid laughs, delighted, and copies him, screeching with all her tiny little lungs can give.

“Awesome, sweetpea! And look at those teeth! You’ve got a whole bunch! Think you can handle some tato stew?”

She’s got no idea what he’s saying, of course, but she’s very agreeable as he lifts her out of the water and pats her dry with one of his clean shirts, dresses her as best as he can given their limited supplies.

Feeding babies is, apparently, a spectacularly messy process, but Toby seems inexplicably delighted to have half of a perfectly good meal splattered down the fronts of him and the kid.

“We’re, what, five hours from Diamond City?” Toby says, eyes not leaving the kid as he waves a spoon enticingly in front of her face, trying to coax her to open her mouth.

“Six, if we take the long way around Hangman’s Alley,” Eli says, almost making Nick jump out of his circuits. She says it real neutral-like, almost careful, makes no mention of the fact that they’d packed for a week out in the wasteland, a job for Nick’s agency, nearly halfway from here to Sanctuary, with no plans to turn back.

“Six,” Toby repeats. “Okay. We’ll catch a few hours’ sleep here, set off at dawn. Someone in the city will be able to take her in.” The kid finally takes her spoonful, only a little of it dribbling down her chin this time. There’s an odd, hard set to his face that makes Nick some weird sorta mix between nervous and sad, a kind of seriousness that doesn’t often touch Toby unless it’s something to do with Shaun, or the gal that Kellogg killed, his life before. Makes Nick almost want to rest a hand on his shoulder, say, look, she’s sweet, but you know you can’t keep her. not now, not here. she ain’t a lost mutt that you’ve found in an alley, and she can’t be what you’re looking for, not when you’re still following leads on your boy. But Toby knows that, doesn’t he? It’s why they’re heading back at dawn. Why he’s going to knock on the schoolhouse and ask around for any families that’d be able to care for a kid her age, why he’s holding her so close on his lap now, his nose and lips pressed into the dark, downy hair on her head. He knows, maybe better than any of them, what he can’t have.

.

Despite that - Toby does go back. Gets a message on his Pip Boy from Shaun, asking if he would like to visit, for coffee. They sit in a careful, studied sort of silence at the table, Toby sipping on the freshest fucking coffee he's had in 200 years and feeling conscious of the fact that he's probably leaving dust and various other wasteland detritus all over Shaun's bright fucking white chairs

"I just-" Shaun starts, shakes his head. “You're from before. When everything was pristine, when humanity was striving forwards. We're doing that, here, now, looking to the future. How can you support the people up there, stuck in the filth and ruins of the past?"

Toby leans back in his chair, sighs. "Forward isn't necessarily a straight line. Sure, back in the day, we had working air conditioning and fancy vending machines, but the way I was- the way I am- was illegal. It was an unkind fucking world, and all the shiny trinkets didn't do a whole lot to hide that people were paying a few hundred bucks a month for medication that they needed to live. Down here—you’ve got the science down, I won't deny it. Clean food and water, medication, synthetic life. The kind of shit we read comics about when I was a kid. But up there? Shaun, they've made art. You can't walk thirty feet in Diamond City without hearing someone playing guitar, there's murals on old billboards, I once met an old church choir made up entirely of ghouls. Here, you're taking care of the body, but Shaun, humanity needs a soul."

The kidbot - Toby can't bring himself to think of him as Shaun, despite the fact that he's got Toby's eyes and freckles and smile - steps into the room with something in his hands, freezes in the doorway when he sees Toby sat at the table.

"I was just-" he starts, looking back at the door like he's thinking of bolting.

"It's alright, don't mind me," Toby says softly, waving the kid in.

"What did you need, Shaun?" Shaun says. Fuck, that's going to get weird fast.

The kid shuffles his feet, something guilty about his face. "I was trying to make my remote control car go faster, but I think I broke it." He holds the little shiny red racecar up to Shaun and Toby for inspection. Toby's actually got a similar one back at the house in Sanctuary, blue paint fading to an off-green, some rust gathered around the wheels. He'd managed to fix up a little motor in it to make it go one night, and he and Hancock had spent half the night racing it against a rat. Good times.

Shaun peers over to inspect the car with a distant sort of interest, but Toby can see where the kid's gone wrong. He's always been good at that shit, fiddly little stuff to do with his hands. Besides, his dad taught him his way around a motor back when he lived out west and they had the truck, and he fixed garage doors for a while when he and Val were trying to get on their feet in Boston.

"Give it here?" He holds out a hand for the car, and the kid hands it over. It takes him a couple minutes of fiddling with the multi-tool he keeps in his coat pocket, but he returns the car with a perfectly functional suped-up battery, and the kid grins when he sets it down and sends it careening off out of the room and down the hall, says, "Hey, thanks!" and runs off after it.

The door slides closed behind him, and Toby finds that he's smiling softy after him, and when he turns back to Shaun, he's looking at him oddly. Do you think you would be capable- Shaun had asked, that first day, Of loving a synth? As though it were a human?

Toby knows he is, as surely and intimately as he knows every crack and tear along the seams of Nick Valentine's face, knows the whirring and clicking of machinery under the skin when he's lying with an ear to Nick's chest, the black metal of his spindly hand tapping an arrhythmic beat on Toby's shoulder.

"Don't you know what you've made, with synths? the Gen 3s, they have free will, they feel.They're feeling for the first time, it's incredible."

Shaun tuts dismissively. "They're just machines. They cannot feel. The Gen 3s have some errors which seem to cause them to behave... erratically. The defects, they are violent and dangerous, and cannot be allowed to roam free."

Toby raises a single, skeptical eyebrow. Shaun wilts, just a little, and Toby realizes that he's just given his son his first ever I’m not mad, just disappointedlook. What an exciting moment in his parenthood journey. "Yeah," he drawls, "so violent and dangerous that they desperately run away from the coursers that want to bring them back to be dissected, and go looking for help and shelter, usually blending in peacefully into human settlements in an effort to live a normal life and find a purpose. Real terrifying. Shaun, jesus, this is what I'm talking about. You've created people, and you have the chance to care for them, to guide them into being a person, and you're treating them like defective equipment! Up there, at least, they can find community. They can find home."

.

You’ve never personally met the General of the Minutemen.

Which, like, you get it. He’s this big important guy, right? Dragged the Minutemen out of ruin and obscurity singlehandedly, spreading goodness and justice wherever he went, and you’re just a farmhand from fuckoff nowhere. You and your folks joined up with the Minutemen because it was your best shot at protection from the local gangs of raiders and other assorted scumbags that tended to make your lives miserable, and all the righteous justice and fun uniforms and shit were just a bonus. Still, you believe in it, right? And you’re grateful. So when the radio call comes through that Garvey and the General want to retake Fort Independence, set up a big fuckoff stronghold, yeah, you want to get involved. You’re twenty-nine and pretty much the most exciting thing you’ve ever shot is a real sad looking radstag, so you’re pretty excited at the prospect of some real action.

When you roll up to the diner across the wharf from the old fort, there’s a few campfires burning all around it, sleeping rolls and tents and scattered packs, folks sitting around on upturned cars and half-rotted benches, cleaning rifles and gnawing on jerky and passing around canteens. Preston Garvey, the biggest bigshot the minutemen had before the general came along, greets you at the door of the diner with a big smile and a clap on the shoulder, tells you to make yourself comfortable, introduce yourself to your brothers in arms. apparently the general’s travelling from pretty far west, and he’d had to detour south to rendezvous with an ally of theirs, so it’d be a few days yet before they mounted the attack on the fort.

There’s folks from all over the commonwealth here, and all sorts. Salt-of-the-earth farmers like yourself, hoity-toity Diamond City types, rough mercenary-looking people, all breaking bread and listening to the radio, singing along to the same five fucking songs, and you’re right there along with them, sipping whiskey and drunkenly drawling Johnny Guitar into the shoulder of one of your comrades.

The General arrives near sunset, and if Garvey hadn’t greeted him as such, you’d never have guessed it. You’re not sure what you expected – maybe a big buff blonde guy waving the star spangled banner, maybe someone more like Preston Garvey himself, big tough freedom type – but it wasn’t the unassuming kid who pulls Garvey into a brief, warm hug, grinning wide as Garvey claps him on the shoulder. You wouldn’t put him at older than twenty-one, and he’s small, got this kinda delicate look about him, all freckles and big puppy eyes and bouncy, curly hair in a cute little ponytail at his neck. He looks soft, and you’re pretty fuckin’ sure that he’s not really the General. Like, okay, maybe he’s got the title, but it’s cause somebody’s his daddy, right? Something like that. Anyways, he’s just some ditzy, pretty kid who smiles at folks and tells them everything’s gonna be okay, and Garvey’s gotta be the real brains of the operation, the one who does all the bloody, dirty work to make it happen.

The attack is being mounted at dawn, and when y’all are gathered round for the strategy meeting, you figure Garvey will take point on explaining everything while the kid smiles and nods along. Still, he seems to have half an idea what he’s talking about as he points to things on the map of the fort, asks questions about fortifications and potential choke points, takes shit into account when Garvey or one of the other more experienced vets chimes in with an idea. It’s just weird to see, you guess. This bright-eyed, smiley kid squatted on his haunches, his pouty, round face all serious as he stares down at a war plan. Fuck’s sake, he’s still got baby fat clinging to his cheeks, he looks younger than your baby cousin.

The plan, such that it is, is not the most complicated thing you’ve ever heard. There’s a bunch of slimy monsters holed up in the fort. You and your comrades will storm the fort, and shoot the monsters. Simple enough. Some of you will be scattered around outside, taking the high ground and moving up to the turrets once the towers have been cleared, to provide ranged support and catch any little bastards who try to escape down the hillside. You’ve all got a nice little stockpile of frag mines to take care of the egg clutches. Gross. You reckon it’ll work, though.

“Gonna let y’all go to catch some sleep before we get this started tomorrow,” the General says, addressing his little crowd of soldiers as a whole. “But just wanted to say one thing, so listen up. If you find yourself shit out of luck tomorrow – if you’re cornered, run out of ammo, get too scared, too tired, too hurt to keep fighting? Run. Scram. Get the hell out of dodge. I know it’s the coward’s move, I know it doesn’t make for a good story, I know it feels like deserting. I know you probably joined the Minutemen because you believed in it, believed in what we do, and you’re willing to die an honorable death doing it – and I’ll be honored to fight and die alongside you. But in the end, that’s just a big old castle with a bunch of mirelurks crawling around in it, and that’s not worth dying for. The fort is a symbol, and in my eyes, no symbol will ever be worth more than people. I’d rather each and every one of you ran away from it screaming and lived to tell the tale, than if we managed to take the fort, but at the expense of half of you getting gutted by some overgrown crabs.”

It is the weirdest damn speech you’ve ever heard, and the weirdest part of it all is, you’re pretty damn sure he means every word of it. He’s looking around at you all like he’s trying to remember faces, nervous sort of energy to the way his fingers tap tap tap on the stained yellow paper of the map at his feet.

“Besides,” he says, smiling ruefully, and you realize that this kid’s carrying an exhaustion that’s older than the fucking war, “If y’all keep on dying, people are gonna start saying that we’re called the Minutemen on account of us managing to lose another man every minute.”

.

They keep irregular coffee dates. Fuck if Toby knows why Shaun keeps inviting him. Fuck if Toby knows why he keeps coming back. Maybe it's the same reason for both of them. Shaun is his son, and Toby loves him, wants to know him, even if he hates him half the fucking time.

The Railroad's suspicious of his intentions, and he has to smile his way into a restricted lab and bring them back some stolen synth research to convince them that he's still on their side, despite getting cozy with the Institute's director. Desdemona's angry that he won't commit to destroying the place from the inside out, but... he's talking to Shaun. It's philosophy and ethics, and even Toby's got to admit that the serene quiet of the Institute is a good place to do it, and Toby brings him little oddities he's found along the way, comics that survived the old word, photographs and holotapes, even shows him some of the sketches he's done of the folks he's met above.

Toby starts bringing toys for the kidbot. They're nothing near as shiny and pretty as the ones he's got down here, but he seems to still love the scuffed up Nuka-Cola van Toby had found in a ruined comics store, goes wide-eyed and amazed when Toby hands it to him.

.

It's a peace that wasn't meant to last, of course. Most of the Minutemen settlements at this point are informally doubling as Railroad safehouses, Dez and the rest delighted to have farms to send newly-escaped synths to, places where they're guaranteed jobs and work and purpose, and folks who will look after them and check up on them like they're family.

Preston flags him on the radio, lets him know that there's been reports of coursers at five different settlements across the Commonwealth. They're going after the escaped synths, and they're more than willing to kill any humans that get in the way.

Nick gives him a dark old look, that, "We've both seen two hundred years of the world going to shit and you and I both know this doesn't end well"look. They recall everyone to the castle, it's the most fortified place they've got, the best shot they've got at defending their people. They all arrive within a couple days, plenty of them with coursers on their tails, and Eli dispatches them with quick, clean shots, the respect that one hunter shows to another. For days, the coursers keep coming, and Toby's people are getting tired. Shaun's not responding to any of his efforts to contact him on the radio, and with grim finality, he lets Preston prepare the Minutemen and the Railroad to invade the Institute and take down the Commonwealth's boogeyman, once and for all.

It's surprisingly quick work in the end, Toby using the access Shaun gave him to relay his little army inside, and they make quick work of the synths that patrol the halls. Ss soon as alarms start blaring, all the humans in clean Institute whites panic and scram, which makes Toby's job a hell of a lot easier. Place the detonator on the central reactor, ignore the frantic ticking of his Geiger counter and the vague feeling that radiation might be making his teethbuzz.

He tells Preston to issue the evacuation order, get as many people and willing synths out as quickly as they can, and he and Nick trek up through the eerily empty halls to the director's quarters.

Shaun's in some kind of biobed, skin ashy and face gaunt, eyes half-lidded as he watches Toby step softly into the room. the kidbot's sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, curled around himself and shaking, and as soon as he sees Toby, he darts up, wraps arms tight around Toby's waist. Toby keeps a firm hand on his back, comforting as he knows how to be, in a situation like this. He meets Shaun's eyes.

I didn't want it to come to this, is what neither of them say, but both of them mean, when Toby blames him for the death and pain the Institute's wrought on the Commonwealth, when Shaun spits back that Toby is destroying his life's work. But what's done is done.

"...You'll take the boy?" Shaun asks wearily, looking at Toby's hand, still keeping the kid close to his side.

"Of course," Toby says, rough with feeling, "Yeah, of course. We're taking everybody, everyone we can get out. We'll take you, too."

Shaun shakes his head. "No. I want to rest now. I don't want to live to see the destruction of my home."

"Neither did I, but I managed, didn't I?" Toby snaps, then shakes his head. That was, well. Mean. Even for him. "You wanted progress. You wanted to move forward. You don't always get to choose the direction that goes. You don't just give upwhen you lose."

Wordlessly, Nick hefts the kid up against his hip, and Toby guides his son to a wheelchair near the bed, pushes him back down the sloping halls to the relay point, where the last party is getting ready to leave, waiting only on their General. Preston and Dez give him hard, unreadable looks when they see who he's pushing, but they've both got the good sense not to say anything, especially with Nick hovering over his shoulder and Eli quickly returning to his side.

.

Later, much later, they return to Sanctuary.

The kid wants to be called Callum. He read it in one of the comics Toby gave him. Toby had helped him to set up a bedroll and a lantern in the upstairs nook of Toby and Nick's home, had tucked him into bed wearing a soft shirt of Toby's that went down to his knees, hugging the bedraggled teddy bear he'd left the Institute with to his chest, and Callum had said, softly, "Night, Dad,"and Toby had smoothed a hand over his soft, perfect, synthetic hair, and said, "Night, kiddo."

At night, Sanctuary's strung up with lanterns and cooking fires, soft orange glows from inside the windows of the carcasses of old homes, flickering lamps in garages and driveways. It's more crowded than usual, on account of it being something of a celebration, the end of the Institute, and all. There's most of the Minutemen from across the state, the Railroad HQ, and the Institute evacuees, scientists, citizens, and synths all. Deacon and Hancock are arm wrestling, and they've drawn... quite the crowd. The Institute evacuees are slowly, surely mingling with the Commonwealth scum, who are meeting them with only minimal suspicion, and mostly good-natured heckling about the ugly white clothes. Someone's playing Johnny Guitar, obviously, and the soft strumming mixes with the gentle, constant murmur of a hundred or more voices laughing and talking and singing.

Toby finds Shaun on the outskirts of the celebration, his wheelchair parked in the dim driveway of the house that he was supposed to grow up in. Toby wonders, vaguely, if that's a coincidence. He's avoided this house, since he woke up. Maybe he's more like Shaun than he's wanted to admit. He's wanted to move forward.

Toby sits beside him on the concrete, follows Shaun's gaze to further down the block, where Preston's got an arm around Desdemona's shoulder, making some kind of triumphant speech, most likely.

"So," Toby says eventually, with a strange sort of serenity. He's got a thin layer of dust and sweat on every inch of his skin, and his fingers probably smell like battery acid from the plasma cell ammo, and his lip is still tingling from the little shock he'd gotten when he kissed the open circuitry on Nick's cheek. He's aching and stinking and exhausted, and he's never been happier. "What do you think of my home? Of everything I’ve built here?"

Shaun sighs softly, and after a long moment between them, says, "I don't know this world. but I suppose I'll have to take after you, and learn to adapt."

He stands, puts a hand on Shaun's shoulder, squeezes. "That's all I can ask for."

[teaspacebar]

far too young to die (7/???)

a/n: I AM BACK!!! this story went on a bit of hiatus because of school and work (also i had major writer’s block for a while) but i am back and in business. thank you for all of the comments and love for this story. enjoy!

taglist: @ashtounding @orchideax, @asheseiler @steve-harrington-said-gay-rights @kake-babe @sweetpeabellamyblakedracomalfoy

relationship: steve harrington x reader

word count: 1100+

summary: you just wanted to keep your job at the starcourt mall movie theater. all you had to do was find out how these kids were sneaking into the movies without coming in the front door. your small little movie theater conspiracy ends up pulling you into something a lot bigger, and a lot scarier.

previous part / series masterlist

chapter seven: closest thing to fate

You guys were stuck in a goddamn Russian elevator. After you all had your “freak-out moment,” you proceeded to pull out water bottles and snacks from your backpack – making sure the kids got some first. Steve made a comment about how you were always prepared, smile on his concerned mom face. You only had enough supplies to las you all for about two days – if that. Erica didn’t seem keen on sharing her water bottle.

You, Robin, and Steve decided to take shifts so the kids could get some sleep. You and Robin took the first shift, letting Steve take a two hour power nap. When he woke up, you urged Robin to go ahead and nap next – you weren’t sure how much sleeping you’d be able to do anyways.

Which left you and Steve Harrington sitting with your backs against the elevator door. The two of you had played multiple games of tic-tac-toe in your notebook, plus a couple rounds of hangman. Steve snorted when he realized one of your sayings was ‘Ahoy Captain Steve’. An hour had passed, and it must’ve been sometime after 3am. Games seemed boring after a while, so you turned to asking each other questions back and forth.

“Licorice fingers or popcorn ears?”

“What the hell kind of question is that, Harrington?”

“…Dustin.”

You had to cover your mouth to muffle your snickers. Steve gave you a pointed look, running his hands through his silky hair. Okay, sue you, but the more time you spent with Steve in this creepy Russian elevator, the more you were starting to like him. And his hair. If you were going to die there, you might as well enjoy yourself before it happens.

“Okay, favorite color?”

“Blue,” He answered simply.

“To match your uniform? Or the oceans of flavor you sail on?”

“Oh, shut up.” He nudged you with his shoulder. “Is your ass really on the line at work?”

Ah. Serious questions now. “My manager basically threatened me. Those kids of yours like to be a tad rowdy in the theater sometimes. But I’m more worried about dying here than my job at this point. If we get out of here, I’ll sneak you all into however many movies you want.” You sent him a smile, which he returned. You glanced over at Dustin and Erica, who were soundly sleeping on the floor. “You and Nancy, you guys broke up halfway through senior year.”

Steve tensed for a moment, but let out a sigh, “Yeah. The question?”

“Did it have anything to do with what happened to Barb?” Your question seemed to have hit something within him, and Steve stared at you harshly.

“Why are you asking?”

“It was just a question, Harrington.”

He huffed out a laugh, but it seemed more bitter than anything. “Is this all a game to you? Just more answers to whatever conspiracy theories you have in your head? The Russian thing. Me sneaking the kids into the movies. My relationship with Nancy. Now you have to ask if I’m involved in the government shit that got Barb killed?” He was whispering aggressively, still doing his best not to wake up everyone else, though you could tell that he was getting upset. A pang of sympathy went through you and you frowned.

“I never said that you killed Barb.”

“And now you’re going to assume I did.”

The tension in the room was high, and you didn’t want him to blow up any more than he already had. “Steve…” you take in a breath, “I’m sorry. My brain just runs wild and I don’t like not knowing things. And I’m a little freaked out right now. I don’t think you killed Barb. I’m not sure what happened, but even after eight years, I’m pretty sure you’re still the same ten-year-old kid who just wants someone to care.”

“What?”

Fuck. “Never mind. What I’m saying is, you’re good, Harrington. You’re so goddamn good and you just want to help. Dustin obviously looks up to you for some reason and trust you with his life. And frankly, so do I. Not sure if I should, but I do.”

And that was true; you did trust him. Maybe that trust carried over from when you were kids. Or maybe your brain just recognized the fact that Steve wasn’t a total asshole anymore. It was probably a bit of both. The nostalgic part of you had utterly missed him, and being close to him again, it made you feel a little less lonely. It was like you were adopted into this crazy little family – all because he had snuck those kids into the movie theater where you worked. You didn’t believe in fate – you had a whole list of reasons why destiny was dumb after she and Jen discussed ‘love at first sight’ – but this seemed the closest thing to it.

Steve called your name, causing you to look at him. The wrinkles in between his brows – the ones that appeared when he was either concerned, frustrated, or confused – caused you to shake your head fondly. You grabbed your backpack from beside you and pulled out one of your granola bars, holding it out to him. “I noticed you gave Dustin yours earlier, you need to eat something.”

Steve looked like he was going to argue with you, until his eyes narrowed. He was staring right at you, like he was trying to use x-ray vision. His name was about to leave your lips, but he suddenly tore his gaze away from you, grabbing the granola bar from your hand. Steve settled back down next to you, chewing on his snack.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, mouth full of food. You glanced at him, and he swallowed, before continuing, “And sorry, about blowing up on you. It’s just a touchy subject and I haven’t thought about it for a while.”

“Apology accepted, Harrington.” You smiled in his direction, “As long as you tell me the actual reason why you work at Scoops.” A groan came from the sailor next to you, “No no, don’t complain. I won’t judge, you know that.”

Steve did tell you. He went on about how his dad was a douchebag – which you knew already, you remembered meeting him once when you were kids, he hadn’t changed much – and how school wasn’t his thing and he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to go to college.  

Not that you would remember everything he said, since halfway through his rant you had fallen asleep, head falling on his shoulder.

You also wouldn’t remember the way that Steve Harrington had smiled softly at you, content to give you a few hours of sleep before everyone had to wake up and make a plan.

[doedreamss]

The Cowboy and the Mustang

Ship: Hangman Adam Page x Jane (OC)

Summary: While on a road trip into mid-northern Montana, Jane takes a quick walk with the intent to stretch her legs before she gets back on the road.  She stumbles across an arena where a gentle cowboy is working to earn the trust of a curious but wild young mustang.

Rating: General (this is pure fluff)

Length: 2,881 words

Available below the cut or on AO3 HERE

“We just need to stop for gas real quick,” Kate was squinting at the road signs up ahead, scanning for the off-ramp they’d need for a gas station, “and we’ll be golden for another five-hundred or so miles.  Aha!” Triumphant, she clicked the blinker, switching lanes until she could take the proper off-ramp.

The town they’d stopped off at was charmingly small.  Nestled in mountainous Montana, the streets were shrouded in shade cast off tall, healthy douglas-fir trees.  A few small homes could be caught nestled through the trees as you drove past, but they were gone in a blur.  Jane realized nearly all of them had wood-fenced corrals on the property and livestock, too.  She grinned. This was exactly what she expected the Montana mountains to be like, as if it leaped from the pages of those sappy, horribly cliche cowboy romance books she used to read when she was younger.

They pulled into the two-pump gas station and Jane popped the door open, hopping out of the passenger’s side as Kate prepared to start pumping.

“I’m going to stretch my legs for a few minutes if that’s cool?”

“Yeah, I need to go to the bathroom anyways.  I’ll park the car over there,” she pointed at a lot beside the convenience store, “after the tank’s full.”

“Awesome!”  Jane tucked her phone into her pocket and turned on her boot’s heel, starting to walk aimlessly down the road just for the sake of walking.  They’d been in the car a little over nine hours, traveling since they’d woken up and left the hotel room that morning and only stopping once, very briefly over five hours ago.  

Jane and Kate had met in veterinary school, where they were both studying to be equine veterinarians. They’d become best friends and eventually realized they both had a dream to drive across the mid-western United States, stopping wherever they wanted on a whim and with no real destination in mind.  Next year would be their final year of school together, so they’d decided to spend the summer before fall semester doing what they’d dreamed of doing, together.

“Hold up boy!”  A low, reassuring voice shouted out gently, startling Jane from her thoughts.  She blinked, glancing to her left.  A cowboy stood in the middle of an arena with his large hands in the air, palms out in surrender to a stocky bay colt who was heaving heavy breaths as he glared under his forelock.  She could make out the white freeze-brand in the colt’s neck.  He’d been a wild mustang seized off his home range by the BLM and sold at auction.

Curiously narrowing her eyes, Jane turned toward the scene and took quiet steps over the dried, fallen pine-needle floor toward the wood-post of the arena fence.  Hands in her pockets, she studied the scene in front of her.

The cowboy was handsome in a Romantic way, as if he could be on the cover of one of those very novels she’d thought of earlier.  He had fluffy, gold-blond hair that fell in a soft cloud on his shoulders and caught the sunlight with enough beauty to make her breathless.  He had a low brow and a defined nose, and a soft vulnerability about him that was comforting, even though he was a stranger.  A fine, well-kept blond beard made his gentle face just rugged enough to be complimentary.  He wore fitted Wrangler jeans, worn leather cowboy boots, a belt with a flashing, big silver belt buckle, and a flannel button-up shirt in checkered blues and whites.  A cowboy hat sat on those curls, just barely containing them and helping keep his eyes out of the sunlight.

He was concentrated on the horse he was in the pen with.  He didn’t take his eyes off the colt, and even murmured in a gentle breath, “Easy boy, easy…”  He hadn’t even noticed he’d gained an audience.

The mustang – a rich, chocolate bay with deep black points and a small white snip on his dark muzzle – struck the sand in the ring, digging a small trench.  He tossed his head, upsetting his rich, black mane over his neck, snorted again and stepped back.  His tail swatted his muscled hindquarters and he turned, giving the cowboy one last eyeful before trotting away and putting space between them again. Whatever the cowboy had done had made the mustang scold him for it.

Jane watched the slight tension leave the cowboy’s shoulders and he lowered his hands slow, hooking his thick thumbs into his pockets.   He was still watching the colt, who’d stopped by the fence post a few yards in front of him and was gently nosing it, pretending he wasn’t watching the cowboy.  He was very clearly doing just that.  Jane’s mouth slowly melted into a smile.  The mustang was curious about the cowboy and wanted to trust him, but he was telling him it wasn’t going to be that easy.  The cowboy was telling the mustang he understood that, he wouldn’t expect it any other way, and he’d be there when the colt was ready to trust him.  All without saying a word.

It was in their subtle body language.  The way the mustang kept his side slightly turned in to the cowboy and flicked his ears with interest wherever the man moved.  The way the cowboy glanced away from the mustang, scuffing his boots in the sand and pretending that was more interesting to watch instead.  A curious horse felt sneaky if a person’s eyes weren’t on it, and that’s just the opportunity the cowboy was giving the colt.  Jane held her breath, wondering if the colt was going to take it.

The mustang’s tail flicked gently back and forth before he jerked his chin gently toward the cowboy and turned, moving almost aggressively, testing the cowboy’s commitment to his indifference.  But the cowboy didn’t jump at the sudden movement or even turn his head toward the colt. He glanced away slow, up into the towering pines and squinted, pretending to watch the Steller’s Jay that sat on a branch and bobbed its black-mohawk head.  The mustang swayed, leaning his weight forward as if he was going to walk, and then thinking again before leaning back.  His ears were still pointed on the cowboy.

Come on, come on… Jane wanted to say, but kept her lips firmly shut so as not to speak and disrupt this almost magical moment.

One step.  Two.

The colt’s wild-worn hooves left soft tracks as he inched slowly closer and closer to the cowboy, who was looking back down at his boots.  Jane saw a smile twitch at the corner of his lips, but he was holding himself together and trying to maintain a calm, neutral front.

Another step.  Another.  Surely, he could feel the colt’s hot breath as he huffed softly, nostrils flared with his neck stretched, trying to smell the cowboy without being too close.  If there were any sudden movements the colt would spook, this moment would be broken, and they’d have to start from the beginning again.  The cowboy was doing his best to stay perfectly still, clearly concentrated and listening to every sense that could grab a hold of the colt and tell him exactly where he was and what he was doing.

The colt leaned in close enough that he rubbed his muzzle over the soft material of the cowboy’s flannel shirt.  He snorted and did it again, this time with intent.  He drew closer and closer until he no longer needed to stretch to touch his muzzle against the cowboy’s shirt.  In fact, he lifted his head and gently rested it on the cowboy’s shoulders.

That’s when the cowboy broke into a smile that lit up his entire face in a way that nearly made her heart stop.  The joy was so pure it pushed his cheeks into his eyes and gently crinkled them at the edge. He turned gingerly in place and the colt lifted his head but didn’t step away.  He waited for the cowboy to face him.

“Hey buddy,” the cowboy said as if greeting an old friend and lifted a wide palm to gently run over the colt’s broad face.  The colt nodded his head as if to show the cowboy he wanted to be pet a little firmer, and the cowboy laughed.  “Pushy, pushy.”  His fingernails curled and he gently scratched the colt’s short chocolate brown hair on his forehead, face, and the bridge of his muzzle.

This was a different scene than just a few moments ago, and she imagined it was even more different than before she’d come across them.  The cowboy’s perseverance had paid off and given the curious, wild young horse the right to choose whether he wanted a human’s company.  Horses, naturally herd creatures, didn’t often want to be alone when given the choice.  Especially one like the bay, who’d been wild and always run alongside his family.

With a final pat to the colt’s thick neck, running gently over the white freeze brand, the cowboy told the colt they were done for the day.  He turned and walked away, but soon there were the steady plods of hoof beats following.  The cowboy grinned again and glanced over his shoulder at the colt who was trailing in his path.  He shook his head, disturbing those pretty blond curls just slightly, and turned back around again. 

“Now I can’t get rid of you, huh?”  It was said fondly.

He didn’t notice Jane until he was already outside the arena and had latched the gate.  He’d glanced away from the colt and turned toward his left, where she stood just a few feet away.  He jolted slightly and blinked, surprised.

“Ah, howdy miss.”  He reached up and pinched the bridge of his cowboy hat, giving it a gentle dip of respect.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said, and felt her stomach tense and her breath feel stuck in her lungs.  She hadn’t been able to see how blue and gentle his eyes were from where she’d stood or just how nicely his thick, solid ranch-man's body filled out his clothes.  “I um,” she blinked and realized she was staring.  She gave her head a small jerk back and forth to shake her brain up and set it right again.  “My friend and I stopped for gas and I needed to walk, we’ve been in the car since Idaho Falls and I was feeling a little cramped.  I didn’t mean to spy on you or anything, I was just… the way you were communicating with that colt, it was breathtaking.”  She felt really, really stupid and closed her mouth fast, her cheeks starting to burn.  She knew she had to be the brightest shade of red.

The cowboy’s blue eyes fell to the floor and his smile curled wide.  It looked like he had to work to keep it from spreading too far.  Wait… was he blushing too?  She could barely tell on account of his beard and the shadow his cowboy hat cast across his face, but she swore she could see the faintest hint of pink.

“Thank you miss.”  He spoke with a humbled, country accent and pulled those eyes back up to hers. 

“So, who’s your friend?” She asked, jerking her head toward the colt in the arena, who was watching them.  

“Don’t know yet,” he said, giving the colt a glance and smiling back at her.  “They tell me their name when they’re ready.”

“They tell you their name?” She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow but couldn’t keep the smile off her face.  “So, you’re telling me you can talk to horses?”  

He laughed and it was a warm, comfortable sound.  Like a fire you could curl up to, wrapped in a big fluffy blanket, while snow fell in lazy slow flakes outside the window.

“No, not that.  I just mean sometimes I’ll be working with the horse and the name will just come to me.  Sometimes I’ll see something and think of them and realize that’s who they are, or they’ll show me more and more of a personality and it’ll remind me of something else.”  He shook his head and blew a semi-amused sigh out his lips.  “I sound like I’m crazy, don’t I?”

“Not at all,” Jane said quickly, shaking her head.  “You listen to them.”

“Yeah,” he agreed soft, his blue eyes on her.  “I’m Adam, by the way.  Should have said that earlier.”   He smiled sheepish, as if he was embarrassed he’d just now realized he hadn’t introduced himself.  He moved close enough to extend his hand and Jane glanced at it, noticing how small hers appeared in comparison as she slipped it into his.  He gave her a firm shake and pulled his hand back.

It fit him, somehow.  Adam, created from the earth.

“I’m Jane.”

“So… you said you haven’t stopped driving since Idaho?”  He kept talking, asking her a question that’d keep her there.  Her heart raced a little faster, thinking that he didn’t want her to leave so soon.

“Idaho Falls.  We left from Boise this morning.”

“Oh,” he said, and cleared his throat.  “You and your beau?”

“Oh, no!”  Jane shook her head with a smile, completely missing that he’d almost seemed disappointed when he thought she had a partner.  “My best friend Kate and me.  We’re both studying at university to be equine veterinarians and next year’s our last year, so we decided to do a road trip together before fall semester starts.”

“Oh!”  He said and smiled broad again, nodding his head.  “That’s really cool.”  His tone was genuine, expression open.  “So are you planning on staying anywhere nearby or–”

Before he could ask his question, they were interrupted by a sharp, loud car horn honking.  They both jumped and glanced toward the road a few yards off and saw Kate in the car, her window down and waving her arm to beckon Jane back toward the car.

“Jane!  Come on!”

Jane wanted to scream. She knew they had a tight schedule to get to where they needed to go at the end of the night before they went stir crazy from being on the road too long, but did it have to be right then? She’d been certain Adam was trying to figure out if she was going to be somewhere close by.  Why would he want to know that unless he wanted to see her more? Jane gave Kate a look, letting her know she’d interrupted something, and immediately saw the guilt flash across Kate’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said as she turned back toward Adam.  Everything inside her was wailing dramatically, hating the words that were going to have to come out of her mouth next.  “We’re on a really tight schedule…”  She took a step, hating it as she forced herself to start to turn away.

“Jane, wait,” he said, and his voice was urgent, but gentle.  He reached out and his wide, warm, work-calloused hand wrapped around hers again. His thumb stroked her skin and he looked a little breathless when she looked from their clasped hands and into his face.  “I, uh,” the tips of his ears faintly reddened, but he didn’t let go of her hand and she didn’t pull it away.  “If you were going to be around tonight, it’s Saturday night and around six in the evening I sometimes wind up down at Harry’s Bar in town.  I’d like to buy you a drink and maybe get to know you a little better, if you’d like that too.”

She could see his nervous hopefulness clear as day, and it endeared her to him immediately.  Where had this adoring, sweet, handsome cowboy come from if not her dreams?  The fact that he was genuinely interested in her, enough to ask her to stay so he could see her again, nearly blew her mind.

Jane took a step back, and another, until his hand gently dropped hers.  She turned around, tossing ideas through her mind, weighing options and wondering how mad Kate would be if their plans took a slight detour.  They’d said they wanted to stop wherever their heart told them to stop, hadn’t they?  Jane met Kate’s eyes and saw she was smiling.  Jane matched that smile and stopped, turning to look at Adam.

“Hey, Adam?”

He looked at her.

“I think your colt told me his name is Whiskey.”

“That so?”  He asked, grinning.

“Yeah, and that’s what you can have ready tonight when I meet you at Harry’s for that drink.”

Adam’s smile was so wide, it showed a pretty row of teeth.  It made Jane’s heart feel like it skipped a beat.

“I look forward to it, Jane.”  He tipped his hat, and his smile turned a little softer, a little fuller of the wonder he had in his eyes for her.  Her name had never sounded more wonderful than it did in that warm country baritone.

“Me too, Adam.”

The colt she’d said was named Whiskey snorted and bobbed his head, watching her from where he stood in the arena beside Adam.  She imagined it was a gesture of encouragement.

 (to be continued…)