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the-winter-spider · 2 months ago

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Invisible | Part Seven

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, idiots in love lol

A/N: Almost done part 8, if you have anywhere you'd like to see the fic go or a certain scene you want dm me :) always open to ideas i just make this shit up as i go lmaooo

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Your apartment is a swirl of energy as Wanda and Natasha flit around you, each one fussing over the details of your look as you finish your glass of wine. Natasha is practically vibrating with excitement, rummaging through her makeup bag, while Wanda holds out another pair of earrings for you to try. They’re both doing their best to hype you up for this date with Dean, a guy Natasha knows from work.

“You look amazing,” Wanda says, stepping back to admire the final touches.

Natasha grins, tipping her glass to you with a smirk. “Dean isn’t going to know what hit him.”

You laugh, a bit giddy from the wine and the thrill of doing something for yourself. The nerves are there too, though—you haven’t been on a date in ages, and the whole situation feels slightly surreal. Just as you’re about to put your glass down, the front door opens, and loud laughter and chatter fill the entryway. You freeze, your pulse spiking.

“I thought they were supposed to be down the street at the bar?” you hiss, looking at Natasha with wide eyes.

She frowns, confusion flashing across her face. “They are supposed to be.”

Natasha strides out of the room, muttering under her breath as she goes to investigate. You hear her confront them, her voice sharp with irritation. “Why are you guys here? You’re supposed to be at the bar!”

Bucky’s voice cuts through the hallway, a little louder than usual. “This is my place too, Nat. I pay rent here, so don’t expect me to stay away.”

Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t ruin this for her.”

Before you can catch more of the conversation, Natasha’s phone pings, and her whole expression shifts as she squeals, rushing back into the room. “He’s here!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes. “Dean just texted—he’s waiting downstairs!”

Your stomach does a flip, and you take a deep breath to calm the nerves. “Is he… is he coming up, or am I going down?”

Natasha studies you for a second, eyebrows raised. “It’s up to you. What do you want?”

You bite your lip, the idea of Dean seeing you in the apartment suddenly feeling way too intimate, especially with Bucky just down the hall. “I’ll go down,” you say, nodding firmly.

Natasha grins, quickly typing a message to Dean. “Alright, you’ve got three minutes to compose yourself, babe.”

With one last look in the mirror, you step out of the room, heart pounding as you walk down the hallway. The boys are in the living room, and as soon as Sam spots you, he lets out a low whistle, his eyes widening.

“Wow,” he says, looking you up and down with an approving grin. “You clean up real nice.”

You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks as Steve and Bucky turn around. Steve’s gaze softens, and he steps forward, his eyes warm and admiring. “You look beautiful,” he says, his voice gentle. “Dean’s the luckiest guy in the world.”

He looks at you with an intensity you’ve never seen from him before, a look that’s almost… longing. You give him a grateful smile, feeling oddly touched. “Thanks, Stevie,” you say softly.

Bucky, however, is still standing a little behind Steve, his jaw slightly slack as he stares at you, seeming momentarily at a loss for words. His gaze travels from your face to the dress, his expression a mix of something you can’t quite name, something unreadable and raw. For a second, the noise and chaos around you fades, and it’s just the two of you, caught in that moment.

Sam, sensing the tension, jumps in with a grin. “Damn, girl, you look hot. Sure you don’t wanna go on a second date with me instead?”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Sorry, Sam. Dean would have to blow it pretty badly for you to get a chance.”

Natasha claps her hands, breaking up the moment as she walks over to you. “Text me if you get a chance or if you need an emergency out. And I need all the details afterward.” She gives you a quick, tight hug, whispering in your ear, “You’re going to be amazing. Just have fun.”

You nod, smiling gratefully as you give her hand a squeeze. With one last look at your friends, you make your way to the door, the nerves hitting you all over again.

As you head downstairs, the sound of laughter and chatter fades behind you, but back in the apartment, the energy shifts. Steve watches you go, a glint of something deep and wistful lingering in his gaze. Natasha catches it, her brows knitting together as she studies his face, watching the way he’s so intently focused on you, even after you’ve disappeared down the stairs.

Natasha squints, suspicion curling in her thoughts. Steve’s expression isn’t the typical friendly warmth she’s used to seeing; there’s something almost pained, raw, and it’s as if a puzzle suddenly clicks into place. Her mouth parts slightly as she realizes—Steve isn’t just fond of you; he’s in love with you. She composes herself quickly, straightening as Steve gives her a look, as if sensing her scrutiny. He shrugs, brushing off the intensity of the moment, and cracks open a beer, plopping onto the couch like nothing’s happened.

Meanwhile, Bucky is still standing, staring at the door as if you might reappear any second. His gaze is fixed, a blend of surprise and… something else. Wanda notices, shaking her head with a quiet scoff.

“You know, you had your chance, Bucky,” she says, her tone sharper than usual.

The room falls silent, everyone taken aback by her bluntness. Wanda’s usually gentle, never one to make waves, but there’s a bite to her words now, and her eyes flash with something almost like annoyance as she glances at him.

Sam, trying to break the tension, chuckles and sidles up to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Damn, Wanda, I knew you had some fire in you!” He laughs, grabbing her glass. “Come on, let’s get you a refill.” He leads her toward the kitchen, topping off her wine glass as they disappear into the next room, leaving Bucky, Natasha, and Steve in the thick silence.

Natasha crosses her arms, her gaze locked on Bucky with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Really, Bucky?” she says, her voice low and pointed.

Bucky blinks, snapping out of his daze. “What?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t stand there looking like that. Just a week ago, you were talking about how you were going to do something about it. You said you were finally going to tell her. But you didn’t. And now you’re acting shocked that she’s moving on? Seriously?”

Bucky’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He fumbles, his hands tightening into fists. “It’s not that simple, Nat…”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha says, her voice steely. “You’ve had years, Bucky. Years to figure it out, and now that she’s found someone who sees her, someone who’s willing to step up and actually do something about it, now you’re all caught up? Do you even know how unfair that is?”

Bucky clenches his jaw, his gaze drifting to the floor. “I… I didn’t think she’d actually… go for someone else.”

Natasha lets out a frustrated sigh, her tone bordering on exasperation. “Well, maybe you should have thought about that. She deserves to be happy, Bucky. She deserves someone who’s not afraid to act, someone who can show her they care instead of just assuming she’ll be there whenever he decides he’s ready.”

Bucky’s face flushes with a mix of frustration and guilt. “It wasn’t that simple. I didn’t want to lose her if things went wrong…”

Natasha’s expression softens, but only slightly. “No, Bucky, you were just scared. You were scared to take a risk and put yourself out there. But she’s spent all these years waiting, and you couldn’t even see what you had. And now that she’s going out with someone who’s willing to treat her like she deserves, you think you can just… act like she still owes you her heart?”

Bucky stares at her, words failing him, the weight of her words hitting him hard. He’s known Natasha to be blunt, but he didn’t expect her to be this brutally honest.

Natasha lets out a sigh, glancing at Steve, who’s been sitting quietly, observing, his eyes downcast. She notices the way he’s twisting his beer bottle in his hands, almost like he’s trying to keep himself from saying something. The tension in his face is palpable, and she realizes with a pang that he’s feeling this conversation deeply, maybe more than he’d like to admit.

She softens her tone slightly, though her words are still firm. “I hate to say it, Bucky, but… you snoozed, and you lost. She deserves more than to wait around forever for someone to decide if they can handle loving her.”

Bucky’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he looks away, as if trying to avoid the weight of her words. “I thought I was protecting her. I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”

Natasha’s gaze sharpens, her voice almost a whisper. “Protecting her from what? From being loved the way she deserves? Because that’s what you’re doing, Bucky. You’re keeping her from happiness because you’re afraid to make a move. But she’s not going to wait forever. She’s already stopped waiting.”

She glances toward Steve again, catching the way his shoulders slump slightly, the sad, resigned look in his eyes. Natasha’s lips press together as she puts two and two together. She’d been watching him closely all night, and now, looking at him, it’s clear as day. He’s in love with you too. The realization sends a pang through her, and she composes herself, though the sadness lingers in her eyes.

She turns back to Bucky, her voice softer but no less firm. “You can’t have it both ways, Buck. Either you want her, or you don’t. And if you don’t, then let her be happy with someone who actually sees her, someone who isn’t afraid to let her in.”

Her words hang heavily in the air. Steve shifts uncomfortably, lifting his beer to his lips as if to hide the look in his eyes. Bucky lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair.

As you step out of your apartment building and spot Dean right away. He’s leaning against his car, a relaxed smile spreading across his face as he straightens up when he sees you. He’s tall, broad-shouldered like Bucky, but everything else about him is different. Where Bucky is dark and a bit rough around the edges, Dean is blond, clean-cut, and sharp in a tailored navy-blue button-down and jeans.

“Hey,” he says, his smile widening as he takes you in. “Wow. You look… incredible.”

You can’t help but blush, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Thank you. And you’re not looking so bad yourself.”

He laughs, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

You nod, slipping your arm through his, feeling a surprising ease settle over you. There’s no tension, no weight from the past—just the excitement of a first date and the feeling that tonight might actually be something good.

The two of you end up at a cozy bistro down the street, the kind of place with low lighting and an intimate atmosphere. It’s bustling but not too loud, with the hum of conversation and the soft clink of silverware filling the air.

As you settle into your seats and glance over the menu, Dean looks up with a playful grin. “So, full disclosure—I know next to nothing about wine. But I figured I’d go with the flow since you seem like the classy type.”

You laugh, glancing down at the wine list. “Well, we can just wing it together. I’m more of a ‘whatever tastes good’ kind of person.”

“Perfect,” he says, signalling the waiter over. “A bottle of your favourite wine, then. Surprise us.”

When the waiter leaves, Dean leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his attention completely focused on you. “So, Natasha talks about you a lot. I feel like I already know a little about you… but I’d rather hear it from you.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, she does? Should I be worried?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, no. She’s your biggest fan, actually. She said you’re the one everyone goes to for advice. Like, you’re the unofficial therapist of the friend group.”

“Oh, gosh,” you say, laughing and covering your face. “She makes me sound way too put together, I’m really just good at listening.”

“Well,” he says, a twinkle in his eye, “I’m going to test that tonight. You’ll have to sit there while I unload all my existential woes.”

“Lay them on me,” you reply, grinning. “I’m ready.”

He leans back, pretending to think. “Okay, first existential crisis: why are Brussels sprouts so divisive? Seriously, no one’s just ‘meh’ about them, people either love them or hate them.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I know, right? I mean, they’re just tiny cabbages. It’s not that deep!”

“Exactly!” he says, pointing at you with an exaggerated look of triumph. “See, you get it…. and now I know I can trust you. This date is officially off to a solid start.”

You laugh, feeling genuinely at ease. When the wine arrives, the two of you clink glasses, settling into a comfortable rhythm of laughter and banter.

“So, tell me,” Dean says, after the waiter clears your plates. “If you could pick anywhere in the world to live, where would you go?”

You take a sip of wine, thinking it over. “Hmm… somewhere with a mix of city life and nature, I think. I want the excitement, but I’d need a place to escape to, you know?”

He nods, his gaze warm as he listens. “I get that. I’m a city guy myself, but every now and then, I need to get out, hit a hiking trail, or just… breathe.”

“Exactly,” you say, smiling. “Somewhere with balance. Not too much of one or the other.”

He grins, raising his glass again. “To balance, then.”

“To balance,” you echo, clinking glasses with him once more. There’s a spark in his eyes, an ease in his laugh, that makes you feel like you’ve known him longer than just tonight.

The conversation flows seamlessly, with no awkward silences, no scrambling to think of what to say next. You talk about favorite movies, disastrous childhood crushes, and the time you both got stuck in terrible jobs after college—he was an assistant to an eccentric artist, while you worked as a receptionist at a law firm where you barely understood the jargon. He tells stories that have you practically in tears with laughter, like the time his mom signed him up for a tap-dancing class because she was convinced it would help him become more “well-rounded.”

“Tap dancing?” you ask, eyes wide with laughter. “Please tell me there’s a video of this.”

“There’s a video,” he admits, grimacing. “But it’ll never see the light of day. That’s a first-date boundary I’m sticking to.”

You shake your head, laughing. “I respect that. But now I feel like I’ll have to wait for date number two for that one.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grin mischievous. “Date number two, huh? So, you’re already planning to see me again?”

You feel a little thrill at his words, but you play it cool, taking another sip of wine. “Maybe. If you play your cards right.”

“Oh, I’m bringing out my best moves, trust me,” he says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I’ve already pulled out the Brussels sprouts bit. That’s a crowd favorite.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “It’s working…I have to admit.”

There’s a warmth in his gaze as he watches you laugh, and for once, you realize you’re completely in the moment. You’re not comparing him to anyone, not glancing at the door or waiting for a text, not thinking about Bucky or any of the unresolved feelings you’ve kept buried. Tonight, it’s just you and Dean, and everything feels light and uncomplicated.

“So,” he says after a pause, his tone shifting just slightly, “what’s something you want people to know about you, that most people don’t?”

You blink, surprised by the question. “Wow, that’s a deep one.”

“Hey, I’ve got layers,” he teases, but his smile is gentle, his expression open and curious.

After a moment’s thought, you answer, “I think… I want people to know that I’m stronger than they might think. I don’t always show it, but I’ve been through things that have taught me a lot about who I am and what I want.”

He nods, his gaze thoughtful. “I can see that. And for the record, I think strength isn’t always about what you show. Sometimes, it’s what you keep inside.”

The sincerity in his voice takes you off guard, and you feel your heart skip. “Thank you, Dean. Really.”

“Of course,” he says, his voice warm. “I feel lucky to be here with you tonight.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn’t need filling. When you’re finally ready to leave, he insists on walking you back, saying he wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise. The street is quiet as he walks beside you, his hand close to yours but never crossing the line. You like that about him—his respect, his gentle confidence.

As you reach your building, he stops, looking down at you with a smile that’s both warm and hopeful.

“So, date number two?” he asks, a hint of nervousness in his smile.

You smile, feeling light and happy in a way you haven’t in a long time. “I’d really like that.”

He grins, and before he leaves, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. “Goodnight, beautiful,” he says softly.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

You watch him walk away, your heart racing and a smile on your face. As you head upstairs, you realize something incredible—throughout the entire night, your mind hadn’t wandered once. No stray thoughts, no memories pulling you back. Tonight, it had just been you, fully present, fully open, and for the first time in a long time, you feel ready for something new.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader angst

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megamett44-lover · 1 year ago

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can you do the reader seeing matt with a little kid (around 5 or 6) and getting some crazy baby fever? thank youu <3

UGH I LOVE THIS

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: In which Y/n brings Matt to her family reunion

Warnings/Notes: She/her pronouns

Requested? Yes!

Dress Up

Bringing Matt home with me for my annual family reunion was insisted upon by my parents. My whole family absolutely adored him, always asking me to bring him around more. Hence why now, here we were, about a ten minute drive away from my grandparents home, where everyone would be meeting.

Having never met my extended family before, it was understandable for Matt to be nervous. He held my hand as he drove, lightly brushing his thumb over my knuckles every few seconds.

“You okay?” I ask, squeezing his hand lightly.

He looks over at me, trying to hide his nervous expression. “All good.” He says.

I nod, turning my attention back to the road. “You don’t have to stress, everyone is gonna love you.”

He chuckles. “If I can win your dad over, I’m sure I can do anything.”

I roll my eyes. “Please.” I say. “You never had to win him over. He was practically calling you ‘son’ before he even met you.”

“Right.” Matt laughs.

Siri breaks our conversation, telling us to turn left and our destination would be on the right. As we pulled into my grandparents drive way, a wave of nostalgia hit me. The long gravel path leading to an old white plantation house surrounded by the most beautiful flowers. I had helped my grandmother plant different flowers in her garden for many Summers when I was younger. The neatly trimmed hedges wrapping around the edge of the porch that my grandfather always insisted on keeping up himself because “nobody else could do the job right.”

I noticed many other cars parked out front, indicating a lot of my family members were already here. As we parked, I kissed the back of Matt’s hand. “Ready!” I asked.

“For sure.” Matt smiled.

As we walked onto the porch, the sound of laughter could be heard from inside. We didn’t even have a chance to knock before my grandmother opened the door.

“My Y/n!” She said, embracing me. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Hi, Gran.” I say, returning her hug.

As we pulled away, she noticed Matt beside me.

“Now this must be the young man I’ve heard so much about.” She smiles at Matt.

“All good things, I hope.” Matt chuckles nervously.

I laugh. “Gran, this is my boyfriend, Matt.”

“Pleasure to meet you dear.” My grandmother says, embracing Matt as well. Pulling away, she smiles at us both. “Well come on, everyone has been asking for you.”

Walking instep with my grandmother and Matt slightly ahead, she leans in and whispers softly. “He’s handsome!”

“Oh, Gran!” I laugh.

“I’m serious!” She says. “If I was only 60 years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

As we walked into the crowded parlor, we were greeted by a chorus of “Hey” and “Welcome home”. A lot of family come up to me, since the last time I had seen most of them I was young. Most of them were eager to meet Matt, having heard I was dating a “famous Los Angeles boy”.

Excusing myself for a moment, I go grab a couple waters for Matt and I from the kitchen.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” My aunt says, seeing me enter. Her and a collection of other family members were working on tonight’s dinner, the smell immediately making me hungry.

“Smells great in here.” I compliment, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge.

“Thanks!” She beams at me. “Oh, your cousins are around here looking for you. They wouldn’t stop talking about how excited they were to see you.”

I laugh. “I’ll keep a look out for them.”

My aunt and uncle had two twin girls, Charlotte and Katherine. They had just turned six and they were adorable. I had spent a lot of my youth babysitting them, resulting in me having an older sister relationship with the girls.

Walking back to the parlor, I notice most of the family had gone to the back yard. Scanning the yard, I cannot seem to see Matt anywhere. I grab my phone to text him, but then I hear giggling coming from down the hall followed by a deeper laugh that I recognize to be Matt’s.

Walking down the hall, I notice the light in the playroom is on. I hear a few voices coming from inside.

“We’re going to make you look so pretty.” I hear a young voice that I recognize to be Katherine’s says.

“Oh, really?” Matt asks.

“Yes!” Charlotte assures. “Y/n is going to love it!”

I peek in the doorway to the playroom to see Matt sat on the floor, with my cousins braiding his hair. I notice he has a few hair bows in, along with a feather boa around his neck.

I giggle softly, watching my cousins give him a makeover.

“Can we paint your nails?” Charlotte eagerly asks.

Matt looks down at his nails, the old paint peeling off of them.

“I think I’m in need of a manicure, so sure!” Matt agrees.

“Kat, grab the princess stickers and pink polish!” Charlotte demands.

Hearing this, I accidentally laugh too loud, giving my position away. All three of their heads whip in my direction.

“Y/N!” Charlotte and Katherine say in unison, running up and hugging my legs.

“Hi, girls.” I say, bending down to hug them. “I see you’ve stolen my boyfriend.”

“Don’t you think he looks pretty?” Katherine asks, motioning towards Matt.

“I think he looks gorgeous.” I say, making eye contact with Matt, who chuckles softly.

“We were going to paint his nails, do you wanna help?” Charlotte asks.

“Of course!” I say, eagerly.

“Yay!” Both girls say in unison.

Sitting down, we begin painting Matt’s nails a bright shade of pink, complete with princess stickers on every other finger. When we were finished, we slowly walk Matt over to the mirror to check out his new look.

“I look awesome!” Matt says, bending down to the girls level. “Thank you, girls.” He opens his arms for a hug, as both girls practically tackle him.

I smile softly, my heart warming at the sight.

“I think next time, we should bring our princess dress for you to wear.” Katherine says.

Matt laughs. “I think that would be amazing.”

“Yeah, but we have to bring the Cinderella dress.” Charlotte says. Katherine raises a puzzled eyebrow. “To match his eyes, duh!”

“What do you think, Y/n?” Charlotte asks.

“I think he would make a beautiful Cinderella.” I smile, causing Matt and the girls to laugh.

A loud voice interrupts our laughter from the kitchen.

“Girls, dinner!” I hear my Uncle call.

“Our dad wants us!” Katherine tells Matt. “But we’ll finish this makeover another day.”

“I’ll be counting on it.” Matt winks, ruffling her hair.

The girls laugh as they run down the hall to the kitchen. I look at Matt, who’s covered in glitter from the feather boa.

“I’ll be their Cinderalla, as long as I’m your Prince Charming.” Matt says, pulling the boa off.

I laugh. “God, you’re cheesy.” I grab his hands, looking at the pink artwork on his fingernails. “I can’t wait to have this life with you one day.”

He pulls me into a hug, covering me in glitter. “I promise, one day, we’ll have all of this.” He says. “Every day.”

I lean back, grabbing one of the braided strands of hair. “I’m really digging these braids, though.”

“Yeah?” Matt laughs.

“Yeah.” I smile, pressing a small kiss on his lips.

“Now c’mon, I’m starving!” I say, leading him to the kitchen.

Matt stops on his tracks. “What, dressed like this?” He asks.

I smirk. “What, you embarrassed?”

“Never.” He replies, putting his boa back on before we exit the playroom.

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo edit

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jinxpologist · 2 years ago

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NO PRONOUNS FAQ

How do I even do that?

There are multiple methods for referring to those who use no pronouns, shown below. (Examples here taken from this page, a very good resource.)

Use names or initials instead of pronouns

I talked to him yesterday → I talked to Sky yesterday.

She is really beautiful → Soph is really beautiful.

Her graduation starts soon → J's graduation starts soon.

Passive voice

He answered the phone → The phone was answered.

Wen takes good care of her cat → Wen's cat is well cared for.

Rephrasing the sentence (circumlocution)

Lior did it all by himself → Lior did it all without any help.

Gael talks in his sleep → Gael talks while sleeping.

Replacing a pronoun with a descriptive noun or phrase

She landed the plane safely → The pilot landed the plane safely.

This is Lea, she is into painting → This is Lea. My friend is into painting.

She argues that… → The person who started this discussion argues that…

Dropping pronouns

Did you buy Tex her gift? → Did you buy Tex a gift?

Yes, I bought it for her. I will give it to her tomorrow. → Yes, I bought it. I will give it tomorrow.

Why not just use they/them?

For many people who use no pronouns, the issue with they/them pronouns is the implication of a neutral gender rather than no gender. Nonbinary people have often been lumped into a “third gender” category, and for agender/genderless people, this feels just as restrictive as having to “settle for” a binary gender. They/them pronouns can feel like being forced into another category, especially as the popular perception of people outside the binary has become a monolith, and can be very dysphoria-inducing.

Who can use no pronouns?

Anyone! Most commonly, this specific way of expressing oneself is used by agender/genderless people, but anyone can use no pronouns if that’s what that person wants.

Can I include you in group pronouns? (Example: They all went to the beach.)

It’s up to the person whether or not that’s alright, but I’d wager most of us would say that yes, that’s fine! It can’t hurt to ask.

Are second person pronouns alright to use?

Same as above. Most would find it perfectly fine, but if there’s ever doubt, please ask!

Isn’t that transphobic?

When asked for sincerely, this is not transphobic. Some transphobic people might say they “don’t have pronouns” in order to make fun of trans people. There is a big difference between someone genuinely stating their preferred pronouns (or lack thereof) and being transphobic.

Are you trolling?/Is this satire?

No, this is not a joke or an attempt at making anyone look bad. If you asked if this is satire, I also urge you to take a look at what satire actually is and it’s history as a form of comedy. Trolling and bait are not satire.

Aren’t you harming the community with this?/This will make transphobes think we're stupid!

I am, by definition, a trans person just trying to be comfortable. I am part of the community. While people inside the community can definitely harm it, expressing myself in a way that makes me most comfortable is not harmful towards anyone. If transphobes think I'm stupid, I can't stop them. They'll think I'm stupid no matter what.

How do I try these out for myself? I think this might be for me!

Here's a website that allows the user to input a name and ask for no pronouns in a sample sentence. No matter your conclusion, I wish you the best on your journey of discovery!

#agender #genderless #no pronouns #transgender #trans #faq #info #idk what to tag this with help me #op

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bellarkeselection · 1 year ago

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Best Solution to a Headache

Y/n and Cole are best friends and dating. Y/n always gets migraines but this time the reader is in so much pain where she’s just being clingy and cuddly to Cole

Walking through the school hallway I tried to not bump into too many people since it would only make the pain in my head feel worse. My backpack was hanging over one shoulder when I bumped into somebody at the same time a sharp pain rang through head. “Hey, watch it.” The kid snapped at me where we tripped onto the tile ground.

I scramble to my feet trying to grab my stuff right before I caught sight of a familiar wave of blonde hair coming through the crowd. “Hey chill out man. It was an accident. Y/n, you okay?” He asked me offering me his hand helping me to my feet.

“Thanks Cole…ohh!” I winced covering my forehead with my free hand closing my eyes briefly.

His eyes focused on mine. “Here let’s get you somewhere else. So what’s wrong with your head. Is it the migraines again?” He draped his arm over my shoulder holding me close while we moved through the crowd and found an empty staircase sitting down on the steps.

“Yeah…it feels like my head is splitting so bad.” I groaned laying my head on his chest with his arm still draped over my shoulder.

Cole whispers running his fingers through my hair knowing that sometimes helps the migraine go away or not be as painful for me. “I’m sorry, baby.” Cole and I had just recently started dating each other a few months ago. But before that we have been best friends our whole lives. Erin was picking on me saying one day that she didn’t understand what Cole saw in me as a friend. He didn’t like hearing that and that moment he realized he didn’t want anyone else but you in his life.

“I just want to crawl up with you. The pain hasn’t ever been this bad and my medication isn’t helping very much.” I moaned shifting my body so my head was laying in his lap and he kept running his fingers through my hair.

He didn’t like that you felt this way and he couldn’t really do anything about it since you were at school. He had some of your medicine at his house. I had told him about my migraine when they started happening when we were in our first year of middle school. I got them from my mother since she occasionally got them too. “How about we get out of here and I take you home for the day?”

“You mean skip school. Cole, I can’t miss English we have a paper due in a few weeks.” I tried to explain covering my eyes with my hands feeling some more pain come when I attempted to sit upright.

He shakes his head making his blonde hair fall in front of his eyes. “I don’t care about that. Besides you don’t look like you are in any position to go sit through anymore classes. We are going home.”

“What about your siblings and Jackie. They’ll need a ride home.” I questioned him slowly sitting up when he got to his feet.

He tugs me up to stand with him. “I’ll tex Alex that I might be late picking them up.”

“If you say so, Cole.” I replied looping my hand through his and together we slowly walked out of the school backdoor to his truck. We drove to my house and I used my key since my parents were at work and wouldn’t be home until like five tonight.

Shutting the door gently I winced just wanting to lay down. I stumbled to the couch grabbing a blanket and just covering myself with it. Cole dropped our bags at the door grabbing some pain meds from the bathroom cabinet before coming to sit with me. “Are you feeling better now?” He asked softly once I take the medicine with some water.

“Yes much better…” I trailed off snuggling into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around my waist after getting underneath the cover.

Cole smiled laying his head on top of my head just holding me in silence for a minute. He wouldn’t ever say it out loud to others but he couldn’t imagine you not being in his life. “That’s good. I’m glad you agreed with my idea.”

“Cause otherwise you’d be worried about me all day but never show it on your face.” I responded lifting my head slightly so I could stare into his bright green eyes.

He leans down kissing my forehead when I lay my head back down in the crook of his neck falling asleep. “You’re darn right, darling.” He closes his eyes falling asleep with you cuddled up in his arms.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun @bbabycass

#cole walter x reader #cole walter #cole walter imagines #noah lalonde #mlwtwb #my life with the walter boys #migraines #wattpad request #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated

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hazbinshusk · 5 months ago

Note

25 with blitz

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

prompt #25: a kiss that's an accident.

“Okay, this is too wholesome for my liking…”

You stand with your hands braced on your knees as you catch your breath and Blitzø stands beside you, leaning against you with his elbow against your back. You raise an eyebrow at him over your shoulder, and he smirks down at you as though nothing at all had just gone wrong. He opens his mouth to continue, but you straighten as you feel a group approach yours. You turn to see the succubi standing on the sand, an incredibly irritated Verosika Mayday at the forefront.

“Blitzo.”

“Oh, perfect!” Your boss rolls his eyes as he turns to face them too, holding out his hands mockingly. Despite his attempt to be jokingly light, his tone still bites with sarcasm. “That must be the whores!”

Verosika’s expression remains stony.

“That was handled rather…” she smiles coldly. “Obviously. Don’t you think?”

Millie holds up a flask you recognize and says dryly, “I don’t think this belongs to any of us.”

She tosses the flask to the popstar, who catches it and drops it into the hands of another succubus without taking her glower off of all of you.

“Would be a shame if anyone found out you guys were behind a giant fish monster in the human world,” Millie continues, and Moxxie bursts into drunken laughter.

“Oh, Satan! You’re gonna be so… fucked!”

You can’t help but smirk in amusement at Moxxie’s giggling, sharing a sidelong look with Blitzø. He winks at you cockily, smiling back, and you swear Verosika’s scowl deepens as she watches the exchange.

“Yeah, well… you four nasty-ass gremlins will be in shit for not being in disguises!”

You open your mouth to retaliate, but Moxxie takes a step forward and promptly faceplants into the sand. Pushing himself up onto his hands, he slurs, “A human called me a possum. I am not a possum!”

“You know…” you draw the words out in faux-thoughtfulness, fishing the other imp out of the sand. You push him gently towards Millie, who takes him from you with an almost sickeningly sweet look of adoration. Blitzø props his elbow on your shoulder, and Verosika’s eyes narrow dangerously. Hell, she’s practically growling at the two of you. You keep your tone casual, watching Verosika out of the corner of your eye. Part of you wonders what exactly you in particular have done to raise her ire so much. “…I’m sure there’s some way we could help each other out here…”

Blitzø blinks unevenly before he catches your meaning, a sharp, wily grin spreading over his face.

“Yeah…” he draws out the word in a way that makes his ex-girlfriend grind her teeth together. “We could keep this little B-movie scene on the downlow if you agree to let us use that parking space…?”

He holds out a hand for her to shake, still smiling. You have to hold back a laugh.

Verosika doesn’t take his hand, her eyes pointed above you all as she finally grinds out, “…Fine.”

“WE FUCKIN’ WOOOON!” Blitzø cheers boisterously, cackling in triumph. He turns to the rest of you, grinning, and your eyes widen as he grabs hold of your face and pulls you into a kiss. It’s hard and abrupt and you don’t have the chance to react to it before he pulls away and his eyes are wide too, apparently just as surprised by what he’d done as you were. Still, his tail waves behind him happily, and you feel your face flush deeply.

Blitzø clears his throat, spinning on his heel to taunt. “In your face, bitch!”

You’re left blinking away your shock, and Millie is staring at you, too, a wild grin on her face. You catch Verosika’s eye and your blush deepens, but she doesn’t look angry anymore.

There’s something more like… pity marring her features.

“Come on,” she spares you one more glance as she scoffs, waving her posse away. “Let’s get out of here. TEX!”

Millie elbows you as she hefts Moxxie onto her shoulder, and you exhale, opening the portal the way Loona had shown you. Blitzø catches your eye, and he grimaces awkwardly despite the victory still burning in his eyes.

“That was, uh… some hot shit there, tits.” he tells you, jerking both thumbs back towards the succubi. “Gave those cum-suckin’ harpies a run for their—” his eyes widen as he realizes the possible double meaning. “I mean, you did good with the—”

“Let’s just go home, Blitz,” you say, brushing hair out of your face. “You can explain whatever the fuck that was later.”

“Sounds like a… sounds good.” he nods hurriedly, and you swear you could almost see a blush of his own staining his cheeks. “Come on, Loonie Toonie! Let’s go back and park our fat fuckin’ car in our fat fuckin’ space!”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

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johnwickb1tsch · 4 months ago

Text

🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 1

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you.

A little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. I love you bool!!! I hope you like this. It’s a mix of you and me and shit i made up and The Gift and conversations we’ve had and that silly rodeo fic we talked about and probably some sookie stackhouse and justified and longmire and other cowboy media that lives rent free in my brain at all times 😆 this is like 7000 words i apologize in advance…🙃 ILYSM!!!

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by strangergraphics-archive

To be fair, you saw the trouble coming from a mile away.

Or at least…a hundred yards, because that’s where he parked his ‘69 Chevelle outside the diner in the middle of your shift. You watched him swagger up in denim, boots, and a bitchin’ fringe leather jacket out the corner of your eye, because you were taking someone’s order. And you cursed the gods when he sprawled himself in a seat in your section, long legs extended out partly in the aisle. He was going to trip someone–or maybe he was just hoping you’d ask him sweetly to move those fancy-tooled shit-kickers to their proper position.

Your capacity for sweetly went up in smoke about an hour ago.

“Hi, can I get you started with something to drink?”

He looks up at you, all dark eyes and smoldering charm–yes, you’re sure he knows it, too–offering up a half smile that makes your heart stop even though you tried to brace yourself. And wow, goddamn if he doesn’t have the balls to look you up and down before answering, “Think I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet.” His smile widens as you narrow your eyes down at him.

“You want a milkshake?”

You swear there is a sparkle in his eye as you ask it.

“Why yes, I believe I do. What flavor you got?”

You blink, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck. He sees it too, the cheeky bastard, that devil-may-care curl of lips widening more.

“We have chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and banana.”

“Hmm. That’s a hard choice, darlin’.”

“You need some time to think about it?”

He chuckles at your sass. “Nah. How ‘bout vanilla. With a cherry on top?”

“Hard to find ‘round here, but I’ll see what I can do,” you deadpan, doodling with concentration on your order pad.

This tickles his funny bone something fierce, those lovely eyes shining. Good Lord, it’s just not fair, the types of temptation the Devil is allowed to set in front of you mere mortals.

However, you’re not falling for it. You’re not. You learned the hard way to be wary of tall, dark, and handsome men with a bit of the devil in them. Because before you were y/n y/ln, your name was Mrs. Donnie Barksdale, and you’ve got the scars to prove it.

“Comin’ right up, mister.”

“Tex.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s my name. Tex.”

He is a charming bastard. You’re not falling for it. You just gotta keep telling yourself that.

“Obviously an alias.” With the tip of your tennis shoe you nudge his big booted foot out of the aisle. “You’re gonna hurt someone with them things.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

You were not playing footsie with this gorgeous stranger. You were just moving a tripping hazard.

You’re not falling for it.

You’re not so convinced either, as you go to make his drink.

***

A little later, when you bring out his burger and fries, he asks, “Why don’t you set with me a while?”

You roll your eyes, withdrawing a roll of silverware from your apron. “I can’t sit down and jaw with you, I’ll get fired.”

He gives you a pouty face, and it should be illegal for a grown-ass-man to look so cute. “When’s your break?”

“Not for hours,” you lie.

“I’ll wait for you, darlin’.”

You snort in answer to that, even while a storm of butterflies goes crazy in your belly.

“Surely you have somethin’ better to do.”

He shrugs. “I just finished a job. Takin’ time for a little vacation on my way home.”

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

“Erm…I’m in situational…solutions…management.”

“Wow. That’s not vague at all. You in the mob or somethin’?” you tease.

He lifts a brow, but doesnt answer immediately. It gives you an uneasy feeling, before he flashes that good ol’ boy smile again.

“Wouldn’t that be some shit?”

Sometimes you get feelings about things, and there is something about this man that makes you uneasy. You think your first instincts were right about him. He needs to be kept at arm’s length. Or maybe the proverbial ten foot pole would be more ideal. The sooner he moves on down the highway, the better.

He lingers long after his burger and shake are gone, people watching, looking out the window…and looking at you. You can feel his gaze on you, like he is a wolf waiting patiently in the treeline for his opportune moment. You have to walk past him after taking a family their order of food, and he asks you, “So what do you do for fun in a little town like this?”

“We’re all Baptists ‘round here, mister, no fun allowed.”

He scoffs, eyes still shining, but you can tell, his patience is finally wearing a little thin. Well, good. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and go. You’re sure a man who looks like him, tall and strapping and handsome as a movie star, is used to women throwing themselves at him. Maybe he thought you’d be a quick score because you’d be grateful for the attention. Boy howdy, did he read you wrong.

“Did I see a sign for a rodeo a street back?”

“Yeah, the fair and rodeo’s here this weekend.”

“Not your idea of fun?”

“Yes and no. I don’t like seein’ the animals get mistreated.” Not all of them were, of course. But the boys could be a little rough when they were roping the young steers, and you knew you’d have a bone to pick with the owner of the local petting zoo later.

“Huh. No, that’s not fun. Someone should do something about it.” That sparkle has returned to those polished onyx orbs, and you are equal parts intrigued and wary.

“Easier said than done, believe me.”

“We should team up tonight. Give ‘em hell.”

You raise an eyebrow to that. Is he asking you out? Your heart does a little flip, before leaping in a swan dive to splat on the pavement. Don’t be stupid.

“I don’t think so.”

“Aww, come on, honey, give me a chance. I’m not a bad man.”

He’s charming as a snake with an apple to sell, and you’re pretty sure he’s lying.

“That’s exactly what bad men say.”

“What would a sweet thing like you know about that?”

You sigh, suddenly feeling about fifty years older than you are. “I know enough.” You don’t really mean to, but in a tick you can’t quite break you brush your hair behind your ear, touching the scar on your temple from the last time Donnie beat the hell out of you. The flesh is still raised, if not faded, the span of a few years softening the evidence, if only on the outside.

You move your hand as soon as you realize what you’re doing, but not before this sharp-eyed man before you notices. His affable expression darkens, and you decide you would not like to meet him in a dark alley on a moonless night. “Give me a name, darlin’.”

For a moment you are taken aback. You don’t know this man, and he doesn’t know you. The offer to play white knight for you is both titillating, and tiresome, if you’re being honest. You’ve heard it before from men who wanted to impress you. None of them panned out. No one wants to take on Donnie Barksdale.

“I don’t need a man to protect me. I’ve got a shotgun for that. You want any dessert?”

Like flipping a switch, he grins up at you, and though he is being friendly, there is still a hint of fang in it, like a wolf on the scent of something to hunt.

“I believe you, honey. I better skip the pie. Gotta watch my girlish figure.” He pats his slim waist, and you can’t stop yourself from looking. Inwardly, you sigh. With your lip between your teeth you add up his final bill on your notepad. “Feel free to add your phone number on there,” he teases, to which you just shake your head sadly.

“There are plenty of pretty girls in this town who will be more than happy to entertain you, Mr. Tex,” you assure him.

Again, he shoots you that pout, and jesus god it should be illegal in twenty states, it gives you such a high.

“But none of them are you, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes, even if you kinda feel like you’re floating on a cloud right now. Goddammit.

“You can nurse your broken heart over at TJ’s by the creek, it’s where everyone goes around here.”

“Including you?”

“No.”

“Hmm, Miss Hard To Get. You’re really gonna make me comb through the whole crowd to find you at the fair tonight?”

“Who said I’m going to the fair tonight?”

“My gut.”

You hand him his check with a smile that does not hide your annoyance. “You can pay at the register.”

You hide in the back, finally taking your break, and deep in your idiotic heart you are sad to see him go. You hear the engine of the vintage sportscar rev from all the way in the kitchen, and you come out just in time to see the back end of him rolling down the road.

Good riddance. You think it, but a part of you doesn’t really agree. Ah well. You’ve always had a weak spot for strays, but that one would have taken the cake. He was A Bad Idea™ and you were much better off without him.

When you go to check the table you see he’s left you a cash tip that will cover your feed bills for a whole month, and your knees go a little weak.

***

When your shift ends you get in your old car and head home, out of town, down the highway and through the woods, to the old farmhouse your grandparents left to you. Maybe you won’t be on the cover of Country Living any time soon, but the battered old clapboard house is home, and has been home to members of your family since the mid 1800s.

Now, it is also home to the assortment of rescued animals you have picked up along the way. If your grandmother, god rest her soul, knew you kept a five-foot tegu lizard in an enclosure in her parlor she would probably expire all over again. But then again…if anyone had ever forgiven you for your stranger quirks, it was your Mawmaw.

Your parents, not so much, which was ironic, considering. There was a reason the family farm went to you and not your mother. She never really got the hang of the whole adulting thing, falling in “love” with dirtbag after dirtbag after your parents divorce, ping ponging between bouts of addiction and religious righteousness. How you came to dread the words, “I am saved!”

You find it funny, that the people who bang their bible the hardest are usually the ones who have the biggest sins to answer for.

But when it came to bad decisions, maybe your apple didn’t fall far from the tree, considering your ex, but in your defense you grew up with Donnie Barksdale. His family’s land adjoined yours, and they had been in this holler just as long as your own ancestors had. They were well regarded around your tiny rural community, and half the folks in your town could hardly believe the rumors of the horrible things that man used to do to you. The other half thought you must have been asking for it–what can you count on in these parts, if not good ol’ fashioned Christian misogyny?

Once upon a time, Donnie Barksdale had been your best friend. You ran wild through the woods in your youth, building forts and catching critters. You fished in his pond and played in the hayloft of your grandparents’ barn. Then you got a little older, and your shirt filled out and the hormones kicked in, and maybe it was to no one’s surprise when you became lovers. Highschool sweethearts to a married couple, right after graduation. You could have gone to college on a scholarship, but Donnie wanted you home.

It was easier to control you that way, you came to find out.

He didn’t beat on you at first. It took a while, for the disappointments of real life to set in. He never got drafted to play pro ball, and he was too proud to take up an honest trade. The pressures of living in a depressed rural area, with no good jobs and few good prospects, took their toll. Reagan-era policies made it easy for corporations to run all the little brick-and-mortar businesses into the ground, and trickle-down economics left your little community behind. Alcohol, meth, and Walmart filled in the voids.

With nothing better to do, Donnie started having affairs, and drinking too much, and when he finally got home he took his frustrations out on you.

You try not to think about it now, but you do, every day. You’re not sure what hurt more: the actual physical beatings, or the betrayal by the boy who you’d loved madly since you were just eight years old.

But there is something to be said, for the healing to be found with your hands in the dirt. You were such a broken thing, when you took over your grandmother’s overgrown garden years ago. Now, your little farmstead is a pollinator’s paradise filled with flowers and food. There’s something about sitting in the quiet with the butterflies flitting around that makes you feel like you’ve done something right in the world. You feed the birds, and you care for your animals, and you take life day by day.

It’s a simple life, but a good one. You’ve run a long road, but you’re finally starting to feel like you’re going to be ok.

And, you intend to keep it that way. That means not going for rides in fast cars with handsome strangers, no matter how lonely you are, or if it seems like he would be good to you, even if just for a night.

You did good today, sticking to your guns.

You need another man in your life like you need a hole in the head. “Boys are so rude,” you expound to your chickens, and your hens seem to cluck in agreement, their feathers so silky soft against your ankles as they wait for a treat. The last rooster who hurt your girls for his own gratification lost his head and ended up in your cookpot. If only it was so easy to dispose of belligerent human males.

You get your scoop, doling out some extra scratch grains to lure the chickens into their pen to lock them up early.

You’ve got somewhere to be.

As it turns out, Tex was absolutely right about your intention to go to the rodeo, though you’re pretty sure he was blowing smoke about trying to find you. It’s a small town, but everyone will be there. You’ll be a needle in a haystack, and you take some comfort in that as you put on a black sunflower print sundress and your battered boots.

You feed the cat, the dogs, your ancient conure parrot, and lock up the house. You have to go see a man about a horse–and you’re kind of dreading it.

***

You are not the only adult in the petting zoo area, which is some small relief. It takes a little while for Dale to even notice you are there, sneaking his skin and bones mini horse molasses treats from your purse in an attempt to help the poor thing put on some weight. It’s starving and its hooves need a trim and you could strangle Dale Manes with your two bare hands.

You pass his place on the way home, and you regularly throw hay and treats over the fence in an attempt to feed his animals–something he clearly doesn’t seem to think it’s necessary to do much.

He’s a cousin of Donnie’s, which has never kept him from ogling you. With some extra cash in your purse thanks to your handsome stranger, you’re hoping that maybe you can sweet talk Dale into relinquishing ownership.

Maybe it’s a lost cause, but maybe you can’t help but think about how many times people had looked at you in a bedraggled state, knew you needed help, and kept on walking with a “Bless her heart,” muttered under their breath.

This little horse gobbles his treats down and bumps his head against you for scritches, leaning on you like a dog.

“Y/n, I see you spoiling my horse.”

You grit your teeth, before facing the music. “Hi Dale.”

“You know, I got you on my game cam trespassing on my property.” You can’t tell by his tone if he’s mad or not. It feels like you’re walking into a trap. Donnie used to play this verbal kind of game with you. It must be genetic.

“Trespassing’s a strong word,” you say, pouring extra sugar into your drawl.

“I don’t know what else to call it. Illegal feeding of animals?”

You give him a sheepish smile, when all you really want to do is kick him in the balls.

“Oh come on, Dale. You know this horse is skinny. It’s ok, I know how things go. I had some extra so I spread it around.”

It is not ok and you have literally lived on ramen cups some months so your animals could eat well and get the medicine they need.

“Well ain’t you a peach?”

“Dale?”

He leers at you, sidling closer, and your skin crawls.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Sell me this horse.”

He gives you a look. “You’d ask a man to sell his livelihood?”

You happen to know he gets by on government draw and dealing pain pills just fine.

“I like Ziggy. He’s my buddy. Let him come live with me.” The little horse in question is trying to nuzzle into your purse for more molasses treats.

Dale takes a step closer, and it takes every iota of your self control not to step back.

“You really are a piece of work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You conniving little bitch. I know it was you that called Animal Welfare on me last month.”

The sweetness drains from you like a flushing toilet. “Fat lot of good it did, I guess.”

“You little bitch. You know how lucky you are? If you were my wife I would have killed you and buried you somewhere no one would find you.”

“Wow. I guess that’s why your wife ran off to Florida.”

“Cunt.” He raises his hand to you, right here in front of children and mothers and God and the whole damn town.

“What’s goin’ on here?” A strong arm loops around your waist, pulling you back out of striking range. “We horse tradin’, or are we pickin’ fights we can’t win?”

With wide eyes you look up to see the man from the diner, somehow even more handsome than before because he’s cleaned up and changed his shirt, the good looking bastard.

“Were you raisin’ your hand to this lady?” he asks. His tone is jovial, but there is an edge beneath the surface that does not escape your notice. You learned the hard way, how to dissect the subtle cadences of a man’s words.

“Believe me when I tell you she deserves it.”

“Huh.” Out of the blue Tex’s fist connects with Dale’s jaw, knocking him out cold. Ziggy startles at the body hitting the ground, darting on his little legs to the other side of the enclosure. All the families stare, shocked that someone would dare, though no one rushed in to see if Dale was still breathing.

“Well, that’s our cue to go.”

“What?”

You are in shock, and it does not even occur to you to fight him when Tex takes your hand and pulls you through the crowd. You do not stop until you are on the other side of the fairgrounds, amidst the games and the dubiously safe rides.

“Oh. My. God,” you wheeze, when finally you pause by the Whirl-A-Gig. “Do you know what you just did?”

“You’re welcome,” he answers with that shit-eating grin, and you almost want to sock him yourself.

“You should have let him hit me!”

“What?” Eyes wide, Tex is incredulous before you.

“God, I didn’t plan it that way but it would have been perfect! He woulda gone to jail, and the county would have to seize his animals.” At least the local Human Society would feed the poor things.

Tex blinks, looking down at you like you’ve grown a second nose. “Did you miss the part where he was going to knock your head off?”

“I’m used to it,” you muse absently, annoyed to the soles of your boots that you missed this opportunity. “If I were you I’d git while the gettin’s good. The whole Barksdale clan is going to come after you now.”

His grin is like a baring of fangs. “Sounds like fun.”

“Huh. You ain’t gonna think so when ten of ‘em roll up on you in your fancy sportscar.”

“Meh. I can handle a pickup truck full of cousin fuckers. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

A chortle escapes you before you can stop it. You cross your arms defensively, trying not to smile.

“The Barksdales are some tough customers, mister.” You had to be, to survive back in the day, but somewhere along the line it just got…out of hand.

“Sounds like you know ‘em pretty well.”

“I was married to one of them for the worst six years of my life. Believe me, you don’t want none of what they got.”

Tex takes this opportunity to step into you, and now that the excitement is over you are reminded that you have six feet of pure cowboy standing in front of you. The pretty tooled embroidery on his shirt emphasizes how wide his chest is. You can smell the heady spiced scent of his cologne, and it hits you like a drug. Goddammit.

“Sounds like you’re worried about me, darlin’.” His voice is like warm molasses.

“Psshh. You better worry about yourself,” you grouse with extra venom, annoyed. “I don’t think you have the sense God gave a chicken.”

He chuckles at that, and you try to back away. Try is the operative word, because he has your hands in his again. “Oh come on, darlin’, don’t leave me yet. Is this the thanks your knight in shining armor gets?”

His hands engulf yours, long strong fingers wrapped around your palms, and you feel more than a little weak inside.

“Knight in shining armor my fanny. Your little stunt is going to get us both hurt.”

“My stunt? Were you or were you not trying to buy that horse when you knew damn well he wasn’t going to sell it to you?”

You sigh. “Well…I had a little windfall burnin’ a hole in my pocket, and I had to try.”

He pulls you a little closer–amazingly, you let him. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I left that for you.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“Well…” Goddammit, if he does not take the opportunity to sidle even closer, so that your fronts are nearly pressed together, and you think you just might faint. “I was hoping you might treat yourself to somethin’ nice. Like a pretty new dress.” He looks you up and down, making a low sound in his throat of appreciation. “But I see you already had that handled. Mmm, you look good.”

You sigh, a long suffering sound of exasperation. Is there something wrong with this man? Because he can’t seem to stop running his mouth. And maybe you’re losing your mind, but…you’re kind of starting to like it.

“I think you might have a screw loose, mister.”

He grins wide for you, in that moment looking every bit the outlaw, with his shining dark eyes and hair brushing his collar.

“That may be true…” He leans down towards you, and you think you just might die. “But I’m pretty sweet.” You’re afraid he’s going to try to kiss you, and you’re even more afraid you’re going to let him. But he just bumps your forehead with his before paying you that devil-may-care grin, and you swear your heart stops in your chest.

This man is such a mistake, but you feel your defenses dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

“Want to split a funnel cake?”

As it turns out, it’s the nail in your coffin.

“Yeah.”

He grins like a man who just won the lottery, tucking you into his side under the shelter of his well-muscled arm like you’ve always belonged there, and goddammit if it doesn’t feel good to feel protected. Too good, maybe. It’s something you cannot allow yourself to get used to.

“I knew you’d come around, darlin’.”

It’s been a while since you made a big mistake. Like…less than an hour, at least, so you guess you were due up. As bad decisions go… You look this tall cowboy up and down, his denim-clad legs about a mile long swaggering beside you.

“How did you find me?” it occurs to you to ask.

“I remembered what you said about liking animals, and figured the petting zoo would be a good place to start.”

You pause in your step, almost tripping as you look up at him. Maybe it shouldn’t be this surprising, that a man actually listened to something you said. But god. It twists and squeezes something inside you. It’s painful and wonderful and you really should run before this gets out of hand. But he is looking down at you with those smoldering dark eyes, and a part of you already knows that it’s too late.

***

“So, my babygirl likes animals,” muses Tex beside you, taking a bite of funnel cake with a grin. “Let me guess. You’ve got a whole house full of strays.”

You sigh, tearing off a piece, a good crispy bit with plenty of powdered sugar. “And a barn.” You have chickens and ducks and rabbits and goats that came to you post-Easter after people realized the fuzzy little things turned into full grown animals that needed housing and room. You have a conure that outlived its previous owner, and a bulldog whose tongue doesn’t quite fit in her mouth, and the world’s only sweet chihuahua who loves to snuggle and needs medication that seems to get more and more expensive every time you have to buy it. The reptiles came to you from a family whose child changed their mind, and the cat just kinda showed up at your door one day, the way they do…

Most men who hear the extent of your menagerie swiftly run in the other direction. They think you’re a hoarder, or if they stick around they want to be the sole focus of all your attention–and it’s just not going to happen. They leave after a month or so, or you run them off.

You have no reason to think this won’t end the same way.

“That’s alright, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with havin’ a soft heart for critters.”

They all say that at first.

Ah well. It’s not like you’re looking to get married again, anyhow. You just…get a little lonely, sometimes, when it’s just you and the dogs and darkness outside.

“Hmm. That’s not the review I usually get. So what about you? You know I have to ask if you’re really from Texas.”

He grins. ��Guilty. But I live in L.A. now.”

“Oh yeah? Are you an actor?”

“I was a stuntman for a little while.”

“Anything I’ve seen?”

He laughs, an open guffaw of mirth that makes his eyes shine and your heart fill to bursting. “Well, you look like a diehard fan of Death Charger II.”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch that with my Grandma,” you tease.

He snorts and pulls off another piece of pastry. “It was fun for a while, but I could tell I was just going to end up with a broken body and an empty bank account.”

“So…what do you do now?”

He looks up at you through those long dark lashes, and you swear to god your heart does a pirouette in your chest.

“I can’t really talk about it,” he tells you, which you guess is actually a more honest answer than feeding you some bullshit lie. “Pays well, though.”

“Okay…that’s not creepy at all.”

He pays you that open grin and offers you the last little crunchy morsel from his fingertips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darlin’. You’re in good hands.”

After a long pause you take the bite, your lips just barely brushing the tips of his fingers. But it ignites a fire in his eyes that has you squirming in your seat, your thighs unbearably moist. Thank god you’re wearing a black dress.

“Let’s walk around,” he proposes, and you agree, even if you’re afraid your legs might not work anymore.

***

Hand in hand, you wander the fairgrounds, people watching, talking, and playing a few games. Tex is fun, and he is sweet, never once letting go of your hand, except during the clown toss which he swears is rigged (and you agree). He makes a crack about his balls being too big to fit in its mouth, and you break down in a giggling fit as the two of you walk away. It feels a little bit like magic, wandering around amidst the bright lights and the warm night and for the first time in a long time, you realize you’re not afraid of running into one of Donnie’s clansmen with an axe to grind or family honor to hold up or some other testosterone-driven bullshit that terrorizes your waking hours and your nightmares.

“Haunted house?”

“No way.”

“Swings?”

“Don’t trust them.”

“Roller coaster?”

“I like my spine aligned right where it is, thank you.”

“How ‘bout the ferris wheel?” Tex proposes with a lift of brows, and even though you know exactly what he’s up to, you finally agree. Tucked into the tiny bucket together in a space that is not meant for adults but god is it lovely to sit with your side molded to his, Tex sneaks his arm around you with a come-hither curl of lips.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn him with a venom you absolutely do not feel at this point. You make a show of leaning away, even though there’s absolutely nowhere for you to go in the little compartment.

“Oh, I’m thinkin’ about it,” he assures you with a devilish glint in his eye, pulling you closer, and off you go in a big vertical circle. It is fun, to see all the lights and the people below, and the rodeo round pen on the other side of the grounds.

Then the ride stops with a grinding halt that doesn’t feel quite right. The two of you are at the very apex of the wheel, on top of the world. You look around, a little nervous. Oh god, please don’t let you get stuck here.

“It’s alright, darlin’” he soothes you, with a wolfish grin that is not comforting at all.

You can see the roping event with a bird’s eye view. You flinch as a cowboy throws a loop around a steer’s neck, jerking it around. At least the second cowboy misses the ankles. You stick your tongue out at them, knowing no one can see.

“Aww, that little grass puppy’s fine,” Tex tries to assure you. “They’re pretty tough.”

Once upon a time your family made part of their living running cattle. You know they’re tough, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to treat them that way just for fun. “There are ways to train them without the rope, you know. They’re very food motivated.”

“But what’s a cowboy without his rope, honey?”

“A farmer.”

He chuckles at that. “It just lacks a certain prestige, don’t it?”

“Fuck you very much. My family’s been farming since before this place was even a state.”

He chuckles at your fiery response, clearly enjoying getting your goat. “Erm–no offense.”

“Pssh. It’s not about prestige. It’s men and their testosterone poisoning, always havin’ to show off at everyone else’s expense.” You’re sure he won’t like it, but you say it anyway. You wait for him to get surly, like all men do when you say what you’re really thinking, and it occurs to you that maybe you should have waited until you’re not trapped in a tin can of an amusement ride with him before insulting him.

“Hmm. Well…there might be somethin’ to that.”

He could have knocked you over with a feather…if you weren’t already mashed into an enclosed seat with him.

“Yeah, there might be,” you say more softly, quickly looking away when he tries to meet your eyes.

“Hey now.” He strokes your arm with his fingertips lightly, drawing little circles and driving you crazy. “We’re silly creatures, ain’t we? I get it.”

The fact that this man, who is 6 feet plus of pure masculine energy, would say such a thing to you–well frankly it blows you the fuck away.

“Showin’ off is fine,” you sigh, still unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just…why does someone always have to get hurt for the sake of it? Usually…someone innocent.”

“You’re right,” he agrees gently. “It shouldn’t be that way.”

Now you do get up the courage to look at him, though it feels like you’re drowning when you do. You really thought you had this man’s number. He dresses like a cowboy and drives a vintage muscle car, walks with James Dean swagger and he even punched a man out for you not but over an hour ago. But here he is, talking to you…like women matter. Like you matter.

“We’ve been up here a really long time,” you muse, blinking the tears out of your eyes while you peer over the side.

“Ah well. I’m sure they’ll get us down eventually.” He does not seem worried at all. “I like the view.” He’s looking at you while he says it, curling a little lock of hair from the nape of your neck around his finger, and an embarrassing shudder gallops down your spine. “Hmm, someone’s sensitive,” he says with a little smile.

You shoot him a glare out the corner of your eye. You don’t think you’ve convinced him by half.

“It’s just cold up here.”

It is the tail end of summer, and still 80 degrees out with the sun down.

“Sure it is, sweetheart.”

You sigh, and you don’t know how it’s possible, considering your position, but somehow he seems to sidle closer.

“Tex?”

“Yeah, beautiful?”

You don’t really know what you intended to say–you look at his mouth, those full, well-drawn lips, and you forget how to breathe for a few crucial seconds. You are lightheaded, the world spinning as he closes the distance, and gently presses his mouth to yours.

Someone moans, and only belatedly do you realize it’s you.

You feel him smile against your mouth, before going in for the kill, his long fingers sliding up into your hair to hold you to him. If you’d felt trapped you would have fought him, no matter how stupid and no matter how high up you were sitting in this rattletrap of a ride held together with rusty bolts and bubblegum. But you feel…free, like for a few blessed moments, you’ve found a part of yourself you left somewhere. A part of yourself you needed, even though you didn’t realize it at the time of losing it.

You let this man devour you, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance you feel all the way in your clit. Pressing your thighs together does not help at all, and he smiles again like he knows exactly what your problem is. When his paw of a hand settles just above your knee, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, his thumb finding its way just past the hem of your dress, you smack your hand over his. “Hold up, cowboy,” you pant, knowing you sound ridiculous but unable to put any real steel in your tone.

His eyes glitter like the night sky as he pulls back to look at you, breathing heavy through his nose. “You sweet little thing. I could just eat you up.” He nibbles your lower lip again, and you think you might expire. He doesn’t force the issue, his hand staying right where you’re holding it. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a steady timpani roll that does not help with your lightheadedness. The carriage sways slightly in the summer breeze, and you’re not sure that you’re not floating in mid air with nothing to catch you. Your grip on his hand tightens, desperately seeking something to ground you. You’re not sure if this is a panic attack, or vertigo, or unadulterated lust.

“Don’t get too full of yourself…but I think I might faint.”

The hunger in his expression turns into concern. “You alright, darlin’?”

“Just…hold on to me, ok?”

“Alright, alright. You gotta breathe for me though. Deep breath.” You do as you’re told. “Then out.” You do this, and you close your eyes, and you start to feel better just as the wheel finally starts to turn again.

As excruciatingly fun as it was to be squashed together with this delicious specimen of a man, you are so grateful when it’s time to get out and put your feet on terra firma once more. Tex steadies you with an arm around your waist, and you just happen to be looking up at the right time to catch the ferris wheel operator’s conspiratorial wink at your ad hoc date.

“Sonofabitch. Did you bribe him to stick us up there?”

Tex chuckles, flinching as you poke him in the ribs. “Hey, you ain’t even met my Mamma yet!”

“Did you?” you demand, unrelenting in your attack. He wiggles like he is ticklish, and you feel like you have stumbled upon crucial intelligence of the enemy.

“I might have slipped him somethin’...”

“You imp! I thought we were stuck!”

He is laughing as you tickle him and poke him, until maybe your fingernail goes a little too far in between his ribs and he grabs you up with a growl that you feel in your loins, putting a stop to your antics with your arms pressed to your sides and your body pressed to his. “You ok? I didn’t know you were scared of heights.”

You’re not really. Scared of feeling things, is another matter.

“I’m ok.”

“Good.” He dips his head to kiss you again, and you let him for about 2.5 seconds before turning your head.

“Tex…”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I think…I think I better go home.”

His expression falls like you kicked his puppy. “Oh. Did I…do somethin’? I’m sorry, darlin’.”

He did somethin’. He’s done everything right, and suddenly you are scared shitless of where this could lead.

“No, I’ve had fun,” you tell him honestly. “But I have to work tomorrow, and I’m tired. I should go home.”

“Oh.” He sticks out that pouting lip, and it really should be illegal for a grown man to look so adorable. “Can I…come see you for lunch then?”

“I guess…I can’t stop you.”

“Would you want to though?”

Therein lay the million dollar question.

“Maybe not?”

He smiles, and it feels like a special gift, just for you. “Alright. Tomorrow then. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Considering what you got up to earlier that evening, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Ok.”

You exchange one last lingering kiss before he tucks you down into your driver's seat and makes ao show of buckling you in. You know it's a ploy to feel you up a little but it makes you giggle anyway. “Tex…I can buckle my own damn seat belt.”

“I know, darlin’.” He leans on the roof of your car, looking down at you like you’re something precious, preventing you from closing your door. You need to go because if you stay in his company any longer you are going to melt into a pile of goo.

“Tex…”

He sighs. “Alright, fine. Tomorrow. You better be ready to take your break with me.” He makes sure your legs are out of the way before shutting your door and tapping on the roof. Why do men do that, like a car is a horse? Giddyup. You think it would be horrifyingly hilarious, if your late-model car decided to play it’s occasional game of let’s not start until you try five times. But no, the old soldier dutifully responds to the turn of your key, and carries you away through the grass parking lot, onto the highway, and away from the man you’re afraid you would like to curl up in bed with and not leave for a month.

That man is pure trouble…and you are pretty sure you want more of him.

#tex johnson #tex johnson x you #keanu reeves #small town au #tex johnson x reader #keanu reeves x reader #donnie barksdale #donnie barksdale x you #past mention at least #this is not a pro donnie fic im sorry 😆#small town girl tex fic

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mirage-aera · 8 months ago

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•°. *࿐ Late night calls || JH86

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ANGEL - Toby Mai

Jack Hughes x Reader

Synopsis: Days when you're apart are always tough. They get lonely without your other half. Nightly calls make those days slightly better. Especially when he falls asleep after a tiring day.

Word count: 822

Masterlist

Your phone starts ringing. Jack’s contact name shows up on your phone. You answer the call and the familiar sound of the call getting connected chimes. “Hi, baby.” Jack’s tired voice rings out through your phone. You get comfortable in bed before replying. “Hey. You looked great today. How are you feeling?” You ask softly after praising him. He lets out a low chuckle. “It’s a win, so I feel great. You were watching? I thought you said you were going to be busy.” You hum in response. “I was.” You pause, a cheeky grin forming on your face. “But I happened to be watching when you scored.” You can already tell he’s rolling his eyes at your remark. “I’m glad you were watching for a few seconds.” He retorts. You laugh, “come on. I might be busy, but I’ll always be watching you play when I can.” He huffs. Unbeknownst to you, he smiles behind the phone. He’s immensely grateful that you always manage to watch him play, whether that’s on the TV or laptop, or when you show up at the home or away games sporting your devils’ jersey with the number 86 and the name Hughes.

He yawns quietly. “Thank you for watching. Wish you were here though.” He says softly. “Want to switch to video call? I want to see your pretty face.” He adds. You chuckle but press the camera button, requesting to change the call to video. He instantly accepts. His face fills your screen. He shifts in bed before propping his phone up on an extra pillow. He smiles when he sees you wearing his shirt to bed. “Are you tired?” You ask quietly, concern laced in your voice. He blinks a few times, trying to blink the sleep away. “A little. I’m fine though, I’m not falling asleep on you.” You raise an eyebrow. Knowing him, he’ll be doing the exact opposite. “Alright, if you say so. If you’re tired you don’t have to stay on call with me. We can talk some more in the morning.” You offer him. He immediately shakes his head. “I want to talk to you. I miss you.” He says stubbornly. Your heart swells at his last comment. You miss him too, a lot. You’re not apart from each other often. You’re usually by his side whenever he goes away on his roadies. However, this time you had some affairs that you needed to deal with. Hence why you didn’t go with him.

You talk for a while as the night becomes darker by the hour. You can see that he’s starting to fall asleep. “You’re tired. Go to sleep.” You try convincing him. He hums, “in a little bit.” He says stubbornly yet again. A couple of minutes pass while you’re talking about your day. You realize it’s getting quieter and quieter on his side. The occasional hums and shuffling from him turn to pure silence. You look at him through the screen. Only to see his eyes closed, arms tucked into him, and his mouth slightly agape. He’s sleeping. He actually fell asleep on you. Even though he so stubbornly told you he wasn’t going to. He did end up doing the opposite. You don’t hang up on him and you certainly don’t wake him up. He had a long day, so it’s no surprise he fell asleep. It’s oddly peaceful having him sleep on the other side.

You continue scrolling through social media on your phone. Having the video call minimized in the corner of your screen. Eventually, you feel yourself growing more tired. Sometimes you hear the occasional snore coming from him while he sleeps. You close the app and return to the video call. “Good night. I love you.” You mumble quietly, to not wake him up. He lets out a murmur but stays asleep. You cover your mouth to minimize noise as you let out a chuckle. You leave the call and place your phone on the dresser. You close your eyes. Before you know it, you’re asleep yourself.

The next morning you’re greeted by a flurry of texts from him. You smile to yourself and shake your head. You hope this boy never changes. He’s the reason you wake up with a wide smile.

I fell asleep

Sorry baby didn’t mean to

Did you sleep well at least?

I’m going off to morning skate in a bit

Remember to eat well since I know you like to skip it even though it’s not good for you

I’ll call you later

I love you

You put your phone down after replying to him. You get up and start getting ready. You should get started on your day. He’s returning home in a few days. You can’t wait for that day. You have so much to tell him that a phone call won’t do justice, and you’re sure he feels the same way.

#hockey #nhl hockey #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl players #nhl imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes imagine #jh86 #new jersey devils #nj devils #drabble #fluff

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thoughtsforsoob · 11 months ago

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you’re frustrated because you’re struggling to learn Korean - txt

a/n: hello! I thought this post would be a little relatable bc I’m struggling rn with Japanese (but not bc of a man 😋). So much kanji to remember and so many words that they just all mush together. I love the language but it is testing my patience and my memory rn :( please enjoy this and lemme know if y’all speak other languages :) it’s cool to know im not the only one struggling with a trilingual brain🥰 requests are open as usual (no pics belong to me! Found on Pinterest)

yeonjun

It was actually his idea to teach you Korean, starting with basic stuff such as phrases at the convenience store and at coffee shops. He knew it would help when you had to go out places on your own. You’re on the phone with him after he’s hyped you up and refreshed some phrases for ordering coffee. You finally are up to order and while your pronunciation has been good, you mispronounce a word and your face goes red. You apologize to the cashier who was very understanding and helped you say the word correctly. You paid and thanked them for their kindness. Yeonjun heart could burst at how the cashier was patient with you and how you tried your best and finally said the word right. “Oh my goodness! You did amazing! Next time you’re ordering coffee for the both of us.”

soobin

As the days went by, he could see your passion for learning his language was dwindling. You were struggling with your conjugation skills and he was just trying his best to help you learn and eventually practice. You both are sitting at the kitchen table, with your textbook in front of you (giving flashbacks to elementary math homework). He’s giving you example of conjugations your currently learning and how to used them. It’s starts to all mush up and you can’t figure it out or focus. You start to cry into your hands. He pulls you close to him, “don’t be sad. I promise that you’re gonna learn really soon. I believe in you.” That’s all it took for you to keep trying. He also promised he’d take you for a melona pop if you tried a few more conjugations (I love melona I’m so sorry 🤤…melon and banana are the best flavors not sorry)

beomgyu

homie is so serious and you get mad at him because of that. he’s teaching you silly phrases and on one occasion, he purposely teaches you the wrong phrase. So, you’re out at lunch with his members and you try the phrase on yeonjun and he looks so confused. “Did you just call me dumb?” Your face is furiously red and you run off, crying. Your frustration sets in. Why would be do this to me? He comes after you after giving you some time to cool down. “Baby? I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that would make you so upset. I promise I won’t do it anymore. We’re gonna get serious I swear.” He lures you out by telling you he’s gonna start teaching you from a really good Tex ok that was recommended to him. He also explains to yeonjun what happened and yeonjun gives him an earful as well, taking you side.

taehyun

he actually is a really good person to help teach you. He has the patience of a saint when teaching you grammar. If you’ve attempted Korean, you know how challenging grammar can be to understand. Let’s say you’re out at a restaurant and try to order your own food..you make a mistake and the waiter is looking at you like huh? You start to feel embarrassed but taehyun explains you’re still learning and has you try it again. When you get it right this time, he smiled and the waited smiled as well. The pride he feels when he can see your improvement is like no other. “You did such a good job, honey. Tell you what, how about we get some ice cream after? You deserve a little treat.”

huening kai

I feel like he’d be very empathetic and understanding towards your struggle. He speaks many languages too and understands how frustrating when something isn’t sticking or when you forget words or grammar. For example, you’re at home and you’re both working on vocabulary. you messed up a few words in a row and start to feel discouraged. His best tool to keep you motivated to learn was tell you he was proud of you. He would always encourage you the best he could, “you’re for this bub! I’m so proud of you! I’m gonna keep helping you until you’ve got this :)”

#txt x reader #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt reactions #ari.speaks<3 #txt smau #txt fake texts #beomgyu x reader #txt texts #taehyun x reader #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #huening kai x reader

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trickphotography2 · 10 months ago

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D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 18

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 8.2k (sorry, it's a long one)

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 17 | Series Master List | Ao3

---------------------------------------

Chapter 18

Jake grabbed the curtain surrounding his berth and tugged it into place. He had the room to himself for what felt like the first time in forever, with Rooster and Fritz finally out at the same time. Fritz was doing nighttime refueling training, and they were doing a horror movie night since it was Halloween, but Jake backed out at the last minute, saying he was tired. The look Rooster gave him let Jake know the other pilot knew he was full of shit.

After slipping his headphones on, he pulled up his phone photo album and tapped on the protected folder, typing in the password. At the top was the video he’d requested and hadn’t had a chance to watch yet, just above the dirty photos you’d texted him on his 36th birthday. His hand rested low on his stomach as he held the phone up and tapped to start the video.

“A bet’s a bet,” you sighed, lifting the camera to show yourself in the bathroom mirror. You wore his blue service jacket, sleeves bunched around your wrists and buttons straining against your stomach. Taking a step back, you put his cap on your head, turning to the side and smirking at the mirror. “This what you had in mind, Tex? Or…” your fingers moved to undo the buttons, and the material fell away to show your rounded stomach.

“Fuck,” Jake breathed, palm itching to run over your skin. His own was a poor substitution as he rucked up his shirt, running his fingers along the waistband of his sweats and wishing he felt your touch.

“Hope you don’t mind,” you purred, nuzzling the jacket collar. “But I sprayed some of your fancy cologne on this so I can pretend you’re here.” With a hand resting on your stomach, you turned back to face the mirror, and he spied the red toy between your legs. Biting back a groan, Jake remembered how the advertisement said it would hit your g-spot just right while sucking your clit.

He’d never been jealous of a hunk of silicone before.

After 2.5 months at sea, he had a harder time remembering your rich taste on his tongue. Jake could have sworn that it was etched into his core memories, but the longer he was away from you, the harder it was to remember. But he comforted himself with the knowledge that he would have to redouble his efforts when he was home to make sure that it was permanently seared into his brain.

He also wondered if you tasted different now that you were six months pregnant. Jake watched as you peeled his jacket back to show your breasts, his mouth watering at the sight. They were so much bigger than the last time he’d seen them. Touched them. Tasted them.

You were gorgeous. So pretty and growing big with his baby. When your hand lifted to circle your nipple before pinching it, his hand slipped into his boxers to grip his cock. He wanted it to be his touch that made you bite your lip. A smirk crossed your mouth as you slid a hand into the coat pocket and pulled out a small remote. Cocking an eyebrow, you chuckled, “So this might be one of my favorite thing you’ve … ”

The smirk fell from your mouth, replaced with a look of confusion as your hand dropped to your stomach. After tossing the remote onto the sink, you flipped the camera and propped it against the mirror, shaking back the sleeves of his jacket to press both hands to your stomach.

“I could have…” you said softly. Jake sat up, nearly banging his head on the top bunk as he watched your expression turn to one of awe. Moving both hands to the left side of your stomach, you beamed at the camera. “Babe, I think Sloane just kicked!”

Jake laughed, running a hand through his hair. You’d told him that you felt little flutters and small movements but had been getting worried about not feeling her move as much. Dr. Shearer had assured you that it was normal to take longer to recognize the movements in your first pregnancy, but that had done little to quiet that fear.

And now, just when Mama was about to have some fun and let Daddy see, Sloane had decided to make her presence known.

“I, uh…” you said, brushing tears from your cheeks. “I’m gonna owe you a video because I feel awkward doing this now. Love you, babe.” When you stepped closer to the camera, he could see your chin wobbling, and his smile dropped. But you grinned, the emotion not quite meeting your eyes, and blew a kiss at the camera before turning it off.

Jolting awake, you choked on a sob. Tears dampened your pregnancy pillow as you reached for the empty side of the bed, fingers curling in the cold sheets.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You forced your eyes open, afraid to close them, and slip back into sleep.

For the last few days, you’d been having vivid dreams. At first, it had been weird but pleasant - there’d been a couple of dreams about Jake being home and setting up the nursery. Another one was hanging out at the beach with your parents. But after seeing a video on TikTok about a neighbor running to support her friend when she was notified of her husband dying in a training accident, you’d had nothing but nightmares of that very scenario.

Of sitting on the couch and reading. The doorbell ringing. Opening the door to Javy standing beside a Chaplin, tears streaking his face. Hearing him say your name softly. “I’m so sorry. He’s gone.”

And, without fail, you would wake up when your knees hit the floor, Javy’s arms gently guiding and trying to protect you.

After one of those dreams, you didn’t want to sleep. So, instead, you’d pace the house or go into the nursery. Your parents had sent you a gliding chair that Phoenix and Payback had moved for you, and it was becoming your unofficial second bed. Being surrounded by the things that Jake had touched - had gotten ready for your daughter - helped to soothe some of the anxiety. And while you might wake up sore and stiff from sleeping in the chair, it was better than lying awake in an empty bed.

Lifting the arm of the pillow, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed. A glance at your phone showed that it was after 3:00AM - three hours before your alarm was set to go off. Sighing, you stood and retreated to the bathroom, pausing to grab a sweater that Jake had left, and you’d officially stretched out too much to return to him when he got back. After spritzing his cologne on it and splashing water on your face, you grabbed your phone and walked to the nursery.

The nightlight projected galaxies on the ceiling as you settled into the glider, hand resting on your stomach. Sloane was quiet, apparently sleeping after putting on a show for her aunt and uncles over lunch. The Daggers had dragged her to the base food court with a bribe of French Fries soaked in malt vinegar from Charlie’s. When you’d felt Sloane move, there’d been some light-hearted shoving of one another to see if they, too, could feel her. Eating with two hands on your belly was awkward, but Sloane had apparently been feeling the love. She had made sure that her family felt every wiggle and kick.

You tried not to think too hard about Jake missing all of it, but it was hard. Not only was he missing out on seeing his daughter grow, but things were getting more challenging to handle alone. Grocery shopping was a pain, as bending to get anything from a lower shelf was difficult. It seemed like you couldn’t go outside without some well-intentioned stranger giving you advice or - creepily - wanting to touch your stomach. Even taking a bath was getting harder due to the struggle of getting out of the tub, which sucked because a lukewarm one - pregnancy had robbed you of your scalding hot water - was one of the few things that helped with insomnia.

Pulling up your phone, you scrolled through social media before flipping to the news. When it was nothing but negative stuff, you locked the screen and placed it on the window sill, folding your hands over your stomach. Forcing away the lingering images from your dream, you instead pictured Jake pacing the living room, gently bouncing Sloane. Of standing side-by-side and struggling to give her a bath in the sink. Slathering sunscreen on chubby cheeks and spending a day at the beach.

For as much as he was missing, you thought, there was so much more that he would be there for.

But even that thought was cold comfort tonight as an image from a previous dream of attending Jake’s funeral intruded. Tears trailed down your cheeks as you rocked, wishing Sloane would move and distract you.

But instead, it was your phone that lit up.

I know it’s late but I just got to watch your video. You looked sexy as hell, darling. So glad you caught our little girl moving, though. Love you so much, and I’ll talk to you soon.

The screen dimmed, and you quickly snatched up your phone to type back I love you too. The message was marked as read instantly, and three dots appeared.

You’re up early. Is everything okay?

Fingers hovering over the screen, you hesitated. And then the screen lit up again with an incoming call. Jake’s grinning face made tears spring to your eyes again. Answering it, you quickly put the call on speaker and softly said, “Hello?”

“Hey, darlin’. Why is my sleepy girl up so early?” His voice, with a gently teasing tone, made you inhale sharply. Halfway across the world, Jake sat up - again narrowly avoiding hitting his head - and frowned. The teasing was gone when he said your name. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“N-nothing. Just had a nightmare,” you croaked, pausing to clear your throat. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“What kind of nightmare?”

“The bad kind.” Jake’s hand flexed in his sheets, swallowing hard as he heard a plane landing overhead. He made an inquiring sound, and you tried to keep the anxiety from your voice as you asked, “You’re okay? Nothing’s wrong?”

“Me?” he sounded surprised. “Yeah, I’m fine. Is that… is that what you dreamed about?” When you hummed a response, he sighed. “Darlin’, don’t you worry about me. I’m completely fine, other than missin’ you and Sloane like crazy.”

“You better stay that way, Jacob Michael,” you sniffled, hearing his groan.

“Don’t cry, baby. I promise you, I’m okay. And I’m being careful.” And he was - to the extent that Rooster had made a crack about sitting on the perch during their last dog fight. But after watching a call that was too close between young pilots trying to show off, Jake wasn’t willing to take the risk. The safety briefing that afternoon had been a review of the basics. He may have accidentally, on purpose, kicked the chair of the idiot pilots when they groaned and pretended to doze, nodding and flipping a toothpick in his mouth when they turned to glare at him. If they weren’t going to take the war game dress rehearsals seriously, they would be the first ones shot down.

He’d already talked to Mav to ensure he and Rooster were in the air with the idiots next time. A little humbling would be good for them. With his wingman watching his six, it’d be easily accomplished while keeping a safer distance.

“You better be,” you mumbled. “How have you been?”

“Not bad,” he replied, updating you on bouncing around the Pacific. They’d steamed past the Korean coast and were headed back out to sea and would be docking in Yokosuka, Japan in a few weeks, just in time for Thanksgiving. After months on the carrier, he looked forward to standing on dry land again, especially with the promise of six days in port with liberty.

There was silence on the other end of the line, and he wondered if you’d fallen back asleep. But then, you spoke. “Sloane’s moving. I think she can hear her daddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your tone was bittersweet, and he let out a breath.

“Wish I could feel her.”

“Me too, babe.” There was a long pause before you asked, “Do you know how much liberty you’ll have in Yokosuka?”

“At least four days. Why? Want me to pick something up for you?” There was another long silence.

“I have a doctor’s appointment coming up.” Jake frowned at the change of topic.

“Yeah? Everything good?”

“It’s the glucose test and a check-up. But…” He heard you blow out a shuttering breath. “How would you feel about me asking if I could fly out to see you?”

Jake grunted in pain when he hit his head on the overhead berth. Scrubbing a hand over what he knew would be a knot, he asked, “Are you serious? Would it even be safe for you to fly?”

“I don’t know, but I can ask.”

“Darlin’ - ” Jake choked on the word, trying to hold back the wave of hope and happiness, not wanting to feel it in case the doc said it was too dangerous. “I miss you. I want you here if it’s safe.”

“Yeah?”

“Always want you with me, darlin’.” Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he quickly swiped away the tear that slid down his cheek. He couldn’t get his hopes up that he would see his wife. That he would get to have some small part in this pregnancy. He could feel his baby move.

“I always want you with me, too, babe.”

Gathering your hair in one hand, you fanned the back of your neck while walking the flight line. The temperature was creeping over 70 degrees, and you were sweating while walking between the hangers with some of the mechanics. They were auditing their tools to order replacements now that the new fiscal year had begun. Already on the top of the list were new trucks for the depot. There, you’d gotten an earful on issues with the new plane towing machine, meaning you needed to call the contractor to come back and inspect it.

Overhead, a jet flew, lowering the landing gear. Sloane moved, and you couldn’t help but smile. She was usually active when you were on the flight line, and you knew that Jake would love that fact.

Knowing you’d see him in two weeks made things easier. When you’d broached the topic with Dr. Shearer, she’d cautioned that you were tiptoeing the edge of the safe times to travel internationally while pregnant. Generally, women were warned not to travel overseas from 28 to 35 weeks pregnant, and you’d be right at 28 weeks when you flew out. But after reviewing your labs, talking for a while, and a few tears, she’d agreed that your mental health was an important factor in allowing you to go. After giving you a list of precautions to take, including bringing a copy of your medical records in case anything happened while you were in Japan, she agreed to sign off on the trip.

However, Jake had been more cautious when you relayed the news. As excited as he was, he didn’t want to put any additional stress on you or Sloane by having you travel almost 20 hours one-way. When he’d pointed out that you’d be traveling about 40 hours for only 4 days, you’d told him to kindly shut the hell up while fighting back tears. Yes, it wouldn’t be the most comfortable time to travel, but you were frustrated with him trying to move the goalpost - Dr. Shearer cleared you, and you wanted to see him.

“Do you even want me to come?” you demanded, unable to keep the hurt and frustration from your voice.

“Of course, darlin’. I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I wasn’t aware that you became an OB in the last three months, Dr. Seresin.” He’d sighed your name at that.

“I’m just worried about you coming all this way for just four days.”

“Worst case scenario, I go into labor there, and you actually get to see your daughter born.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Jake said.

“Fine. But Dr. Shearer said I can go as long as I don’t have any issues between now and flying out, and as long as you’re still getting off that ship, I’m going to be there.”

So you were taking Dr. Shearer’s advice - and requirement - to stay healthy to receive the medical clearance and for Jake’s peace of mind. As much as you wanted to go home and sleep after work, you’d started walking around the neighborhood again. Thankfully, your diabetes test had been negative. However, you were still carefully watching what you ate and made sure to cut back on how many runs you were making for salty french fries at night, no matter how much Sloane wanted them. And you’d increased your water intake, which had the added benefit of making you pee more frequently. It was inconvenient, given how often you were out on the flight line.

Blowing out a breath, you let your hair drop and shifted, feeling the familiar need to head back inside to the nearest bathroom. When Sloane shifted again, you felt a twinge in your back and dug your thumb into it. As much as you wanted to head back inside, you needed to complete the audit. One of the perks of working for the federal government was the number of holidays - and therefore days off - that occurred between September and February, but it was hell on getting contracts done. And with your due date in February, you wanted to ensure you had all your ducks in a row for when you went on maternity leave.

But staring down a three-day weekend for Veteran’s Day, you were looking forward to relaxing away from the heat and work stress. Javy would come over on Saturday to mow the lawn, and there were tentative plans to go to a movie with Bob on Sunday. Mostly, you just wanted to relax. Insomnia was taking a toll on you, and you were ready to curl up on the couch while watching television and napping. Jake had mentioned possibly doing a video call this weekend, which would have been an added bonus.

But those plans disappeared when you turned your husband’s truck into the neighborhood and saw a strange car in your driveway. Unfortunately, it was right in front of where you needed to go to park in the garage. A peculiar sense of deja vu hit you as you stopped beside them and glanced into the passenger seat, spotting your mother-in-law.

“Fuck,” you hissed, forcing a smile when she turned to look at you. Lifting a hand, you waved before turning off the ignition. Resting on your leg was a small, silver piece of confetti shaped like a bell - even months after the Daggers had dumped them in Jake’s truck after the wedding, you’d found one in the cab. It was almost like the universe knew that you needed some small reminder of your husband on a day like today. Shoving it into your pocket, you unbuckled yourself and reached for your work bag in the passenger seat.

Sarah was standing outside of the truck, waiting impatiently. But the person who circled the car wasn’t who you’d expected. He was tall and slim, with brown hair that had lightened with age. The slope of his shoulders was familiar, as was the cleft in his chin.

Even though you’d never met him, you recognized your father-in-law from the few photos Jake kept of him.

The ready room erupted in noise as the officers were dismissed from the strategy meeting on Saturday morning. Jake closed his notebook and sat back, pressing his pen cap to his lip as he studied the whiteboard. With the war games officially kicking off in early December, the higher-ups were fine-tuning the plans and wanted updates on training. As TOPGUN instructors, Mav and Rooster were officially in charge of ensuring the pilots were up to the task, but he’d also been pulled in as an unofficial trainer.

Jake tried not to overthink Rooster's comment a few weeks ago when they’d been talking about buying houses. Rooster had been working with a realtor in San Diego but couldn’t find anything he liked before they deployed, and his stuff was sitting in storage. And as much as Jake liked the rental, he liked the idea of owning the house you’d raise your kids in even more. If promoted to Lt. Commander, he’d probably have more leeway in ensuring they stayed in Lemoore, extending with the Vigilantes or moving to a different squadron. He knew he was due for orders in the next year or so and that he needed to update his dream sheet ASAP.

But in his gut, Jake felt he’d get orders to PCS sooner rather than later. Cyclone had told Rooster that two instructor positions were opening in Miramar in the summer. Warlock was tasked with compiling the list of graduates he wanted to recall, and Jake was pretty sure his name was there. The WSO instructor position had already been filled. Fanboy had already texted the Dagger chat to let everyone know he was headed out West during PCS season.

Not to mention the vague comment Mav, finally up for promotion to Rear Admiral, had made about a permanent squadron being built up at TOPGUN for specialized missions. Who knew how long it would take to establish it, but… if he was reading the signals right, it looked like there might be a move south in his future.

Before, that wouldn’t have been an issue. Even with his first marriage, his wife had said she was ready for anything. Finding a new job in her career wasn’t an issue. And it had just been the two of them. But now? Now, it would be a bit harder for that to happen. There were only so many contracting jobs on base, and military spouses weren’t guaranteed anything. In the worst-case scenario, you could return to private contracting - there were always offices around bases. An overseas posting would be more complicated. While he knew the two of you could manage it, he knew you liked being stateside and having your parents a short plane ride away - especially with Sloane.

As the room emptied, Jake pushed to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. Thankfully, this meeting was the last thing he had to do today for work. He already had plans to hit the barber and do laundry, and he mentally added printing out a copy of his dream sheet. With you coming in a few weeks, he knew he needed to update it ASAP. Lemoore would be his top choice, pulling the international postings. As fun as being overseas would be, he had to put his family first now. Deployments would be enough.

Tugging down the arm of his khaki shirt - they were tighter than usual due to having nothing but time to work out - Jake couldn’t keep the smirk from his mouth as he walked the hallway back to his room. He couldn’t wait to see you in two weeks, even though he worried about you traveling. But he knew better than to voice his concerns after you’d snapped at him. So he’d done everything he could to make sure that the trip was safe. After you’d sent him the tickets you were eyeing, he’d bought them and upgraded the seat so you’d be comfortable. The last-minute tickets were expensive but absolutely worth it - you’d already agreed that this would be both of your Christmas gifts. And he’d booked a room at the Yokosuka Navy Lodge, so you’d be on base and close to the hospital if you needed anything.

Fritz nodded at him when he stepped inside, turning his attention back to the show he was watching on his laptop. After tossing his notebook onto the small desk, Jake quickly undid the buttons of his shirt while toeing off his shoes. Once he changed into his civvies, he’d hit the barber and then go for a run. The weekend was the worst time to do laundry, but he was running out of undershirts and socks.

The safe door clicked open when the dial reached the last number. Jake retrieved his wedding ring, swapping the black silicone band on his hand for the white gold now that he was officially off duty. It already had a couple of scratches on the metal, but he didn’t mind - just meant that time had passed since you’d slid it onto his finger four months ago. After placing the silicone band in the safe, he grabbed his phone and powered it on. It took a minute to connect to the wifi, so he shoved it into his pocket and grabbed his wallet.

With another nod to Fritz, he stepped back into the hallway and stopped dead when he checked his phone and saw two misspelled texts you’d sent.

Prents here

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess,” you said, standing awkwardly in your kitchen as your in-laws looked around. You caught her critical glance at the dirty dishes in the sink - at least you’d remembered to run the dishwasher while at work - and the pillow and blanket on the couch. “Can I get you anything to drink? I have water, sparkling water, soda, juice, and milk if you’d prefer.”

“A beer,” Mark barked, his green eyes running the length of you before the corner of his mouth twitched. To his credit, he was conventionally attractive. You could see how he could attract women - traces of Jake were clearly present in his features - but you couldn’t figure out how he kept them once he opened his mouth. Placing a protective hand on your stomach, you forced a smile.

“I don’t actually have any beer,” you said. These days, the house was pretty much BYOB if people wanted alcohol while hanging out. “I’m pretty sure there’s some whiskey and rum if you’d prefer a cocktail.”

“I’ll go get some,” Sarah said softly, looking between you. Mark glanced at his wife and nodded.

“Fine. I’ll have a sweet tea while I’m waiting.”

“I have tea bags, but I don’t have sweet tea on hand.”

“I can make some.” Huffing, Mark invited himself into the living room and threw the blanket on the couch onto the floor before grabbing the television remote. Taking a steeling breath, you turned to face Sarah. She straightened slightly with her husband across the house, lifting her chin as though daring you to say something. This wasn’t the woman who had paraded into your house over a year ago and called you Jake’s roommate or had made pointed comments about your wedding.

“It’s nice to see you again. How long are you here for?”

“The weekend. Mark wanted to meet you and make sure that you were doing alright with the deployment and…” she motioned to your stomach, fingers twitching as though she wanted to touch. Shuffling back a step, you nodded.

“Where are you staying?”

“Here,” Mark called from the living room, clearly listening in. “Where’s that tea?” Sarah walked to the pantry and started searching, ignoring your outraged expression.

“You’re staying here?” you asked.

“No use spending money when my son’s got the room.” Mark smiled in what you assumed he meant to be a charming way but really looked sleazy and winked. “Want to keep an eye on my daughter-in-law, too.”

Forcing your expression to remain neutral, you picked up your work bag. “I’m going to change. Make yourself comfortable.” The sarcastic remark was unnecessary, as his booted feet were kicked onto your coffee table.

You could feel the bag vibrating against your leg as you retreated to your bedroom, loathed to leave the two unsupervised in your house but needing a moment to regroup. As soon as the door was closed, you reached into the bag and retrieved your phone, seeing that there were already four missed calls from Jake. Before you could call him back, it rang again. “What do you mean, ‘u’?” he asked as soon as you picked up.

Tossing your bag onto the bed, you retreated to the bathroom. “Your parents are here.”

“My - ” The shock in his voice was unmistakable. “My parents are there?”

“Your father currently has his shoes on my coffee table and wants a beer, and your mother is in the pantry making him sweet tea as a substitute until she goes out to get some.”

There was a long silence before he spoke again, his anger barely contained. “Did he say why they came?”

“He said he wanted to keep an eye on me, and - ”

“That son of a bitch,” he snapped. You inhaled sharply, surprised at the venom in his voice.

“Jake?”

“Put him on the phone.”

“I’m in our bathroom. Talk to me.”

“I can’t believe… how long are they staying?”

“The weekend, apparently. And they’re expecting to stay here.”

“Absolutely not. I told him he wouldn’t step foot in our house, and he waited for me to be out of the fuckin’ country to do it.”

“You - ”

“I want you to call Coyote and get him there - now. And then you’re gonna call me back and stay on the phone until he gets there.”

“Jake, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t want him near you, not when I’m not there. I don’t trust him.” Taking a deep breath, you leaned against the counter and dropped your head into your hand. Unwelcome tears sprang to your eyes, but you forced your breath to be even. Right now, there was only room for one Seresin to freak out.

“Babe, I understand you’re upset, but I don’t need Javy here to help manage this. I can - ” He hissed your name.

“You don’t know him. He’s not a good person.”

“I know that, Jake. From the little you’ve told me about him, I know that he’s an asshole and that your mother is not my biggest fan. But I need you to please take a breath and tell me the context of why you told him he wouldn’t be in our house.” Across the globe, he forced himself to take a deep breath and then another as you did the same. You heard voices in the background and then a door opening and closing. “You still there?”

“Yeah, tryin’ to find somewhere private. Hold on.” Closing your eyes, you felt the baby move.

“Sloane’s moving,” you said softly. When he grunted a response, you sighed - clearly, he wasn’t willing to be distracted. So, instead, you moved deeper into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain to sit on the tub's rim. Eventually, Jake spoke again.

“Darlin’?”

“Yeah?”

“Can’t wait until I’m off this goddamn ship and can get some privacy.” It was on the tip of your tongue to say that he would have that in a couple of weeks, but you stayed quiet. When you closed your eyes, you could picture him running a hand through his hair and pacing. The silence stretched, and you refused to break it. “Do you trust me?” his voice was cautious, and you blew out a breath.

“Of course I do. Jake, if you don’t want them in our home, I’ll have them leave. I just… I need to have information so I can approach this the right way.”

“The right way is with Coyote there.”

“Why?” you demanded. “Why do I need your best friend here? Is your father going to be violent when I ask him to leave?”

“He better not be,” Jake growled. Closing your eyes, you tried to push down your frustration at him for not telling you what was happening, knowing he needed a moment to gather himself. Your husband was a man of action and instinct, and you knew his not being there to handle this personally had to be hard for him. But you were more deliberate and planned, and you wanted to approach every situation with plans and backups in place. And to do that, you needed information.

It had been like this once before when you’d had your first fight about moving in together. Jake wanted it to happen immediately, while you wanted a more established timeline. But now, unlike then, other variables were in the mix - his parents. For as little as you knew about Sarah Seresin, you had at least interacted with her a handful of times. You knew some of her quirks and how she would try to get under your skin. How she’d try to manipulate the situation. But Mark? Your father-in-law was an unknown quantity. You knew he had a temper, was a frequent cheater, and was a horrible parent who emotionally abused his son. Still, you had no data on how to interact with him.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. “Babe, please, I need you to focus because we have a situation, and I need to handle it in a minute. And to do that, I need you to be very honest with me right now about your concerns about me interacting with your father and answer a few questions for me.” Jake felt slightly annoyed when he clocked your tone - the one you used when working with a particularly difficult person. “First, why did you tell him he couldn’t step foot in our home?”

“Because he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve to know you after what he said.”

“And what did he say?”

“I don’t - ”

“Jacob.”

“You heard him call you a tag chaser,” he said after a moment. You nodded, remembering that phone call where you’d first heard Mark’s voice when you’d called to invite them to the wedding and let his parents know about the pregnancy. “You didn’t hear him say…he said some pretty terrible things about you.” There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, but you forced your voice to be even when you asked him to clarify. Reluctantly, he did. “He said the baby probably wasn’t mine and that you’d cheat on me the moment you had the chance if you hadn’t already. And that… that you would leave me as soon as you got tired of military life, just like my ex did.”

“I…” you stared but couldn’t speak around the lump in your throat. A confusing mixture of anger, resentment, and hurt choked you. While the rational part of your brain knew that Mark Seresin’s opinion was worth less than the dirt on the sole of your shoe, the emotional part hated that your father-in-law would believe that about you. Clearing your throat, you nodded again. “W-what are your concerns with me confronting him alone?”

“Darlin’,” Jake groaned. When you hummed, he cursed under his breath. “I never saw him hit ma, but it was close. And I don’t… I can’t have that happen. Not with you.”

“Alright,” you said, pulling the phone from your ear and putting it on speaker. Pulling up your text thread with Javy, you quickly typed a message.

911 - Seresins here. Jake wants you here when I kick them out. Can you come?

The message was marked as read immediately, and the response came right away - OMW

“Javy’s on his way,” you sighed. “I won’t do anything until he gets here. Do I need to find a way to keep your mom away from him?” He was quiet for a long moment before sighing.

“I…I want to say yes, but you're my priority if it’s between you and her. Fuck!” Jake pulled at his hair, hating that you were being forced to deal with the situation. “Promise me you’ll call the cops if he does anything.”

“Of course.” Swiping away a rogue tear, you cleared your throat again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’. I’m so sorry that - ”

“This isn’t on you,” you said, toeing off your shoes. “We can handle this. I’m gonna go check the mail to make sure that the door’s open for when Javy gets here. Do you want me to call you back when - ”

“Stay on the phone.” Grabbing your shoes, you closed your eyes and pushed to your feet. “Please, darlin’, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t.” After tossing your shoes into the closet, you glanced at yourself in the mirror and quickly fixed your makeup to ensure you didn’t look like you were crying. Exiting your bedroom, you glanced at where Mark was watching TV and didn’t see Sarah anymore. A glass of sweet tea sweat on the coffee table, having ignored the stack of coasters.

Mark’s eyes narrowed briefly before his eyebrow rose as you walked through the living room. Forcing a smile, you tilted your head toward the door. “That my son on the phone?” he asked.

“It is. He says hi.” You heard Jake snort, and Mark’s lips curled in a fake smile.

“Tell him I said hello, and he needs to call his mama more.”

“I will. I’m gonna go grab the mail.” Their rental car wasn’t in the driveway as you walked to the mailbox, the cement warm under your bare feet. There was a box from your parents sitting on the front porch. “Did you hear that?”

“Fuckin’ asshole,” was Jake’s response. Taking a breath, you cradled the phone between your shoulder and ear while grabbing the stack of magazines and envelopes. Slowly, you walked back to the house, mentally preparing to be civil to a man you hated with every fiber of your being and nearly dropping your phone when you tried to juggle it, the mail, and the box.

“I’m gonna put my phone in my pocket for a second,” you said. Before he could respond, you did just that and pushed the door open, leaving it unlocked. Mark watched you walk toward the kitchen and smirked.

“The yard looks like shit, and the house doesn't look much better. Your mama clearly didn’t teach you how to keep a house for your husband, but don’t worry - Sarah’ll get you right before we leave.”

You froze, hearing Jake’s tinny voice in your pocket. The television covered the noise by the couch, as Mark didn’t seem to notice it. “Excuse me?”

“My son obviously didn’t marry you for your housekeepin’ skills,” the older man leered, and you shifted the box to more fully cover your stomach. “But a man should be able to leave on deployment and know that his woman’s takin’ care of his home. Sarah knew that, and she’ll make sure you learn.”

“I’ll have you know that I was also raised in the military, so I’m not a civilian going through their first deployment. I know how this works because my dad deployed a lot when I was growing up, and it was just my mom and me,” you snapped without thinking. “And my house is not perfect, but I had no idea I’d have guests coming, I work full time, and I’m pregnant. So when it comes to dividing my time, I will pick my career and take care of myself over doing housework, especially when I’m mostly here by myself. And Jake knew how I cleaned before we got married.”

Turning your back on the man, you stormed toward the kitchen and slammed the box onto the counter, the mail falling to the floor. Jake was talking as you bent to retrieve the post, hand sliding into your pocket to retrieve the phone. “You’ve got more fire than the last tag chaser, I’ll give ya that.” Mark leaned against the wall, grinning down at you. Grasping the counter's edge, you pulled yourself to your feet and tossed envelopes next to the box, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I am not, and never have been, a tag chaser, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped calling me that. If anything, I married your son despite him being in the military.”

“Is that right?” he asked, pushing off the wall.

“Tricare’s just not worth it,” you shrugged.

“You got a smart mouth on you, you know that?” That Texas drawl you found so charming on your husband made your skin crawl as he stepped closer.

“It’s one of the things Jake loves about me.” The counter dug into your back as he moved into your personal space.

“Your daddy shoulda tanned your hide for that and taught you some manners.”

“We’ll agree to disagree on that.” When you tried to push past him, his hand shot out and wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you to a stop. Glancing at it, you forced your eyes up to meet his angry green gaze and felt a shot of fear go through you. “Take your hand off of me. Now.” You could clearly hear Jake yelling in the quiet kitchen, but the words were muffled. Mark glanced down at your leg. “I didn’t get a chance to hang up, so Jake’s heard all this.”

Sneering, the elder Seresin chuckled. “An’ what’s he gonna do for you when you’re here all alone? Clearly, you need a man to teach you a lesson, and if my son isn’t up to the task - ”

When his hand rose, you lifted your chin as you wrenched yourself out of his grasp. “Do it and pull back a bloody stump,” you hissed. Adrenaline flooded your system, and anger at him daring to threaten you in your own home overrode any fear. “I’ll make sure you spend the nice, long holiday weekend in jail, and I’m pretty sure those assault charges would have more consequences since I’m pregnant.”

“You little bit - ”

There was a knock at the front door, and you refused to take your eyes off the man in front of you as you yelled, “Come in!” You heard Javy call your name. “We’re in the kitchen.”

Mark lowered his hands when he heard Javy’s quick footsteps, and he paused in the doorway. “Everything alright?” he demanded, glancing between you.

“Everything’s fine,” you replied, keeping your voice even. “He was just going to wait outside for his wife to come back and then find a hotel for the weekend.”

“You can’t kick me out of my son’s house,” Mark snapped. Javy quickly moved to stand beside you, and you smiled sweetly.

“This is my house just as much as it’s Jake’s. And if you don’t leave, I’ll call the police and have them remove you.”

“Let’s not get the cops involved if we don’t have to,” Javy said, attempting to play the peacekeeper. “Mr. Se - ”

“Chief Petty Officer Seresin, to you, boy.” At that, Javy’s eyes flashed, and his shoulders pulled back.

“Then it’s Lieutenant Machado to you. Now, she said to get out, so let’s go.” When Mark raised his hand again to point in your face, Javy stepped between you. “Back up.”

“You and my pussy of a son deserve each other.”

“Get. The fuck. Out of my house,” you ordered through clenched teeth, your palm itching to slap the man. Smirking, he took a step back and spit on the floor. Javy moved fast, grabbing the older man by the collar and walking him out of the kitchen and toward the door.

Ears ringing, you were unable to hear the words the two exchanged. The door slammed shut, seeming to shake the walls, and then Javy was back. “You okay?” he asked, pulling you into his arms. Shaking, you leaned into him, fingers digging into his back.

“I’m okay,” you breathed, unable to keep tears from falling. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“Jake texted me.”

“Jake!” you sobbed, quickly pulling away and reaching for your phone. You could feel that you were starting to get light-headed, and the room spun, so you grabbed Javy’s arm, using it to help you onto the floor. Leaning back against the cabinet, you brought the phone up to your ear and heard your husband’s ragged breathing. “Jake?”

“Fuck, darlin’, are you okay?” he demanded.

“I’m okay,” you answered. Looking up at Javy, you mouthed the word ‘water.’ He nodded and quickly grabbed a glass from over your head.

“I can’t believe that fuckin’ asshole touched you. I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m okay,” you repeated, hearing how worked up he was getting. Putting the phone on speaker, you accepted the water Javy handed you and mouthed your thanks. Forcing yourself to take slow sips, you could feel the room stop spinning. Crouching down in front of you, Javy studied your face.

“She’s a little pale but looks good, Hangman.”

“Jesus, Javy - I…” Jake seemed to choke on his words. “Thank you, man. I - ”

“No thanks necessary; I'm just glad you texted me. Payback’s outside keeping an eye on the situation.”

“Reuben’s here?” you asked.

“We were at the bar when I got the texts. Pheonix and Bob are en route.” As if on cue, there was a knocking on the door before it opened.

“Just me!” Nat called. Javy stood, glancing at the other pilot when she entered the kitchen. “All clear?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You mind staying here while I go back up Payback?”

“Bob’s five minutes out,” she said. Her gaze drifted to you. “You want to go get checked out?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Jake grunted in frustration. “Go get checked out, darlin’. Make sure you and Sloane are okay.”

“I’m fine,” you countered. “The worst I’ll have is a bruise on my arm. He didn’t touch me.”

“If he left a bruise, he did,” Jake countered. “Please, darlin’? For me?”

“But…” you sniffled, hearing his noise of concern. “But what if they tell me I can’t come see you?” He breathed your name, and you hung your head.

“I’d rather know that you and Sloane will be okay than see you in two weeks. That’s all that matters.” Tears streamed down your face as you silently cursed your in-laws.

“Fine,” you whispered.

“I’ll take you,” Nat offered, and you nodded.

Two hours later, you sat on the couch between Bob and Payback, a mug of ice cream settled on your stomach. Urgent Care had quickly cleared you but cautioned against any more stress when you’d admitted to feeling faint.

Jake had made you promise to call him back during the exam, and Nat had held the phone for you. Only after hearing Sloane’s strong heartbeat did he feel comfortable hanging up.

By the time you’d gotten back, the Seresins were gone. When the Daggers made it clear that they wouldn’t leave you alone that night, you quickly ordered some pizzas while Javy ran home to pack an overnight bag, and Payback went to pick up some beers. When you’d tried to pick up the house a bit, Bob and Nat had made you sit on the couch and relax, keeping your feet elevated like the PA had told you to.

After midnight, you woke to the hushed sounds of the aviators getting ready to leave. You hugged Nat, Reuben, and Bob before they left while Javy cleaned up the kitchen and took out the trash.

“You don’t have to do that,” you yawned when he came back into the kitchen through the garage.

“It’s no problem. I’m gonna crash in the spare bedroom if that’s cool.”

“It’s all yours. And thanks, again, for everything this afternoon.”

Javy shrugged, a sad smile tugging at his mouth before he turned to wash his hands. “I’m always gonna have your back. Chief Petty Officer Seresin” - his tone was mocking - “has been an asshole since I’ve known him. But you and Jake don’t deserve that.”

Rather than respond, you waited for him to finish before hugging him. “I’m glad you got stuck with Jake at the Academy. And that you put up with him for this long.”

“It has not been easy,” he chuckled.

“At least you’re getting a goddaughter out of it.” He stiffened in your embrace, and you did as well.

“I’m what?”

“Please tell me that Jake has already had that conversation with you.”

“I’m gonna be her godfather?”

Groaning, you stepped back and buried your face in your hands. “Ignore what I said. Please - I didn’t… Jake was supposed to talk to you about this WEEKS ago!”

“I’m gonna be a godfather!” Javy crowed, wiggling his shoulders in a celebratory dance.

“You have to pretend I didn’t say anything when he asks you,” you begged. When his hands hovered over your stomach, you smiled and guided them to where Sloane was moving.

“Hey, baby girl, it’s your Uncle Coyote. Gonna be the best godfather ever,” he promised.

This time, the tears that slipped down your cheeks were from happiness and gratitude for the family that Jake had already given you.

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: I am SO SORRY for the delay in updating this story. I got very caught up in my other Jake fic ('tis the damn season) which is set around Christmas. Jake and Darlin' unfortunately took a back seat. However, it gave me some time to mentally rework the chapter, as it - and the story as a whole - originally didn't include any Darlin' going to visit Jake, but just focused on the interaction with her in-laws. As always, thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for letting me bounce ideas off of her during the writing process.

And now you've met CPO Seresin, who is a piece of work... (in my experience) veterans who want to continue to be addressed by their rank tend to be. A couple military terms were used in this chapter - PCS is Permanent Change of Station, where you move bases; PCS season is usually in the summer. Generally, you PCS every 2-4 years -- the longest we ever stayed somewhere was 5 when Dad was able to extend. Due to the constant change, it is very hard for military spouses to build their own careers. One of my best friend's husband left the Air Force because she refused to prioritize his career over hers (she works in fashion, and he now works in finance), and my other best friend's husband also left when she became a director in her company. My mom wasn't able to have a career until my dad retired after 26 years.

Tricare is the military health insurance. Dream sheets are the list of bases that you'd like to be stationed at. The military will look at the list and where there's need, and then let you know where you're going. You are not guaranteed a base on your dream sheet, and it's important to keep them updated. My parents forgot to redo the international one, which is how we ended up moving from Japan to Spain when my parents were ready to come stateside.

Thank you so much for being patient with me updating - I appreciate you 🥺

Read Jake's POV of this chapter

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