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queenofwands89 · 3 months ago

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Quiet Affections

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Pilot!reader

Summary: After her friends tease her about Jake having a crush on her, Y/N reflects on certain memories that make her question whether there might be some truth to their playful jabs.

Warnings: Teasing, pining, Jake being a sweetheart, Y/N being oblivious, insults aimed at Y/N, protective Jake, mention and description of injury, anxiety, doubts, fluff.

Notes: Happy Friday, everyone! We made it! 🎉 I just hit 2,500 likes on here and wanted to thank each and every one of you who liked, reblogged, or commented on my works. It means the world to me. I’m down bad for Jake, and need him badly so I wrote this. Enjoy byeeee

You find yourself deep in the heart of the Hard Deck, the familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses forming a comforting backdrop. Rooster, Natasha, Javy, Bob, Reuben, and Mickey are clustered around the pool table, laughter spilling freely as they take turns making shots and throwing jabs. Jake had just excused himself to go to the restroom, but not before brushing a lingering hand against your shoulder and whispering something that made you smile. This action set off a chain reaction of teasing directed at you.

"Y/N, you know Hangman’s got a huge crush on you, right?" Rooster's mustache twitches with a sly smile as he lines up for his shot.

You laugh it off, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh please, Bradley. Jake? No way. He's just... nice."

Rooster and Natasha exchange glances before Natasha cocks an eyebrow at you. "Nice? Hangman is many things, but nice isn't the first word I'd use. Unless he’s talking to you," she remarks, tapping her cue stick against her palm.

Bob, always the quiet observer, chimes in. "He's got a point though, Y/N. I've seen how he looks at you."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I'm just completely unaware of it," you say, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "You guys are ridiculous."

Mickey grins, his boyish charm lighting up his face. "Maybe, but can you really deny the way he's always got your back?" he asks, leaning casually against the pool table.

Your first instinct is to rebut, but as their words settle in, you start to think about some of the things Jake had done for you. Not just the grand gestures like saving your hide in aerial combat, but the small, everyday things. The way he'd always save you a seat, bring you coffee exactly how you like it, offer subtle words of encouragement when you doubted yourself.

Javy steps forward, his competitive spirit twinkling in his eyes. "You're telling me you haven't noticed how he always goes out of his way to make sure you're okay?"

Reuben, good-natured but always vigilant, nods in agreement. "Hangman's not exactly an altruistic guy, Y/N. But for you? He'd go to lengths he wouldn't for anyone else."

You crack a wry smile, determined to stay firm in your denial. "He's just protective. We're teammates."

Natasha had already joined in, her voice warm yet teasing. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. It’s not just about being teammates. He genuinely cares.”

In the ensuing silence, you can't help but ponder on their words. Jake "Hangman" Seresin is charismatic and assertive, traits forged from his exceptional flying skills and competitive nature. But beneath that cocky exterior, there lies a heart incredibly loving and caring, willing to sacrifice anything for his loved ones. Slowly, you find yourself drifting into a vivid memory, reliving the countless cherished moments and experiences you've shared with Jake.

You recall that evening at the Hard Deck vividly. The bar was buzzing with the usual chatter and laughter, the hum of camaraderie filling the air. You were amidst your friends, enjoying the rare downtime when an unfamiliar voice cut through the noise—this stranger making an offhand but cruel remark about you. The comment was subtle, yet it stung deeply, rooting you in place with a mix of shock and mortification. Your cheeks burned under the weight of the ridicule, words lodged in your throat.

Before you could muster a response, you felt Jake's presence beside you, solid and reassuring. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and the offender. His usual easy going demeanor was replaced by a steely resolve, his eyes dark with anger. "Do us all a favor and think before you speak," he said, his voice steady but carrying an unmistakable edge.

The bar fell into an uneasy silence as Jake’s glare pinned the offender in place. "If you've got a problem with Y/N," he continued, his voice low and unwavering, "you’ll be dealing with me."

The tension hung in the air, thick and palpable. The offender, unable to match Jake's intensity, muttered an apology and slunk away, deflated. The moment passed, but the impact lingered. Jake remained there a moment longer, ensuring the threat had fully dissipated before turning back to you.

As he met your gaze, the hardness in his features softened, replaced by a gentle concern. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with a tenderness reserved just for you.

You felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude, the initial embarrassment giving way to a profound sense of relief. Jake had stood up for you without a second thought, his protective instinct leaving no room for compromise. In that moment, you knew you were safe, not just physically but emotionally, knowing Jake had your back. His touch and the concern in his eyes reassured you even more, providing a solace that words alone could not.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Then there was the night when you couldn’t sleep, tormented by insecurities that gnawed at the edges of your mind. It was long past midnight, and you found yourself seated on the deck of the aircraft carrier, trying to get some fresh air to clear your head before the mission. The vast expanse of the ocean and the cool night breeze did little to quiet the whirlwind of self-doubt swirling inside you.

The stars dotted the sky like tiny beacons, and the waves below gently lapped against the ship's hull, but none of it brought you peace. You wrapped your arms around yourself, tense and lost in thought, barely noticing the sound of footsteps approaching.

Jake emerged from the shadows, his silhouette becoming clearer in the soft glow of the ship's lights. He paused when he saw you, his brow furrowing with concern. He looked around, ensuring no one else was around, before walking over to you with determined but careful strides.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice breaking the solitude with an edge of worry.

You hesitated, feeling foolish for bothering him. "I…I just can't stop thinking about everything that's been going wrong. I don't know if I'm cut out for this, Jake."

Jake's eyes softened, and he lowered himself to sit beside you on the cold metal deck. "Tell me more," he said gently, coaxing you to open up. His voice was so steady, so soothing, that you found yourself pouring out all your fears and anxieties—the relentless pressure, the fear of failure, the nagging feeling that you weren't good enough. With each word, you felt a weight lifting from your chest.

Jake listened without interrupting, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an unwavering focus on you. His eyes never left your face, and his expression remained kind and attentive. "You know what I see when I look at you?" he said quietly once you had finished. "I see someone who's brave, who fights every day to be better, who cares deeply about others. You're stronger than you think, Y/N. Don't let those doubts control you."

His words felt like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your insecurities. When he reached out to brush a stray tear from your cheek, the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes melted away your remaining doubts, leaving you wrapped in a cocoon of reassurance. Sitting there on the deck, under the endless sky, you felt profoundly grateful for Jake's unwavering support and the strength he helped you find within yourself.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

You also remember the time when you injured your ankle during a training exercise. You had insisted on limping back to your quarters, trying to maintain your independence. But Jake wouldn't hear of it. He had scooped you up without a second thought, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic gentleness. The entire trek back, he kept you engaged in light-hearted banter, ensuring your mind stayed off the pain.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

And how could you forget the morning he had brought you coffee? Not just any coffee, but a complex, personalized concoction—an oat milk latte with a shot of caramel, a pinch of cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg, and no foam. You hadn’t even mentioned it to him before. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up," he had said nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But you knew the effort he had put into remembering such a detailed order, and it made your heart swell with an unfamiliar warmth.

These memories play in your mind like a cherished montage, each moment a testament to the man beneath the bravado. Jake "Hangman" Seresin wasn’t just the cocky pilot everyone else saw. He was a protector, a confidant, a friend who cared deeply for you, even if you had been too blind to see it before.

Returning back to the present moment amidst the lively ambiance of the Hard Deck, surrounded by the warmth of friends and laughter, you notice Jake returning from the restroom. As your eyes meet, his familiar smirk emerges, but this time there’s a tender softness in his gaze that you hadn’t noticed before—or perhaps, hadn't allowed yourself to see.

“Miss me?” he jokes, sliding back into the chaos of pool cues and friendly banter.

You chuckle, shaking off the speculative thoughts. “Like a bad habit, Seresin.”

But later, as the night winds down and the camaraderie ebbs into a quieter hum, you catch yourself glancing his way more often. The teasing remarks of your friends aren’t so easily dismissed anymore. And as Jake catches your gaze across the room, you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they might be onto something.

Because sometimes, the most significant realizations are the ones that had been right in front of you all along, masked by the comfort of friendship and the chaos of duty.

You smile to yourself, feeling an inexplicable warmth. Maybe it was time to see what was beyond the camaraderie, to delve into the possibilities of what if. The thought lingers, like an unopened letter, waiting for the right moment.

For now, you return to the laughter and games, but with a new awareness, a curiosity that couldn’t be easily shaken. One thing was for sure—things were going to get interesting.

Text divider credits: @bunnysrph

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tastesousweet · 7 months ago

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Can we get a toxic!babydaddy Matt fic like I’m craving something about my man like it’s been days and I haven’t eaten

⭒ blurb : toxic!bd matt who . . .

toxic!babydaddy matt x poc!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, dad!matt (i understand if u don’t fw it), idk what else :P

mickey speaks: this is kinda different for me so ty for the req!! ik this is just a little headcannon set but i hope you luv this anon 💐

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . brings some girl he’s been “hanging out with” to your daughter’s third birthday party just to piss you off

he’d then get mad when you ignore him and his “friend” the entire party…

he’d come up to you as you watch your daughter play on the decorated playground from afar, “the fuck you bein’ petty for, y/n? i thought we were cool with seeing other people?”

“well i just think it’s rude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone else. i don’t care who she is or what you two do it’s annoying from a planning perspective.”

“that’s my bad… you look good though,” he’d glance around for a second before coming behind you and hooking his arm on your neck.

he’d whisper in your ear while you both stare out at your lively daughter, “can’t believe she’s so big now… lookin’ just like her pretty mama.”

you’d roll your eyes and shoulder matt off of you, “matt, go fuck on the bitch you brought here. and stop saying shit like that to me.”

“jesus- watch your language there’s kids everywhere, y/n.”

you blankly stare at him and his cocky smirk that just aggravates you to pieces, “go awayyy, matt.” you whine out and pinch your eyes with a sigh.

and he laughs because everything’s a fucking joke to him.

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . your friends hate but you will always have a soft spot for, he is your daughter’s father after all

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . sends hundreds of roses to your doorstep for mother’s day

when you text him a picture of the ridiculous bouquets with a “????” he immediately facetimes you, “for the best mama in the whole world. you like ‘em?”

you shake your head and hide a smirk beneath your hand to scold him, “you do too much, matt.”

“uh huh i knew you’d say that…” he’d then ask to see his favorite girl, “now where’s my baby at?”

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can’t mind his business to save his life. he’s always asking you questions about your personal life; and you always shut him down

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can sometimes be a little too desirable when he drops your daughter off at your place (dressed nicely, smelling good, eyes bright yet droopingly eye-fucking you, etc), leading you to invite him in for a glass of wine or two

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . you sometimes find in your bed again when you feel particularly lonely and nostalgic

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . loves the few times he gets to to wake up to his daughter pulling on his hand and you by his side, fast asleep

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . tends to start arguments from the smallest things to get you to talk to him longer than you need to

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . will always put effort into being a great father (which you respect) despite never putting that same effort into your relationship

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . makes sure you’ll never forget he loved you first and is connected to you far deeper than any other man ever could be

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shookuna · 4 months ago

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// HEATWAVE! // T FUSHIGURO

a/n: first post on tha new blog !!! eeee !!! this is dedicated to the lovely mickey @teddybeartoji <3 ty for being my FIRST OFFICIAL MOOT ! MY DAYONE ! take a lil soft!toji fic pls and thank u 🤲

wc: ~ 1k oops

summary: tired grumpy bf!toji is needy and annoying w/o cuddles. cw: nsf(w) ment, plus some tooth-rotting fluff <3

cuddling with toji was becoming a rare occurrence.

it was mid-july and swelteringly hot outside, even in the wee hours of the night. the a/c in your shared apartment was threatening to give out, and the shitty fan toji sloppily assembled did little to improve matters. so, deviating from your usual routine, you and toji fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

toji noticed the distance immediately, cracking one eye open to find you not curled into his side, like usual. the sight of you dead to the world, hair messily splayed across the pillow was enough to make his heart flutter. but even still, a frown tugged at the corner of his lips.

because goddammit, you did not get him used to this "cuddling" shit just to bail on him now.

you and toji met months ago at the dawn of fall, when the days were getting shorter and the nights were growing colder. your relationship was initially a fateful coincidence, a grocery store meet-cute that was as romantic as it was awkward. his series of brazen pick-up lines went right over your head (surely, you assumed, no one would tell you how good you'd look receiving backshots in the fucking frozen food aisle) but you still ended up giving toji your number that day.

and he's never been a religious man, but he was praising every god in the damn sky that you did.

one date was all it took for both of you to be locked in. he was a bad habit, an itch you couldn't help but scratch, irresistible. he was reckless, cocky at best and an asshole at worst, everything you weren't. needless to say, dating toji was against your better judgment. but for him, being with you was the first good decision he's made in a long time.

that's not to say things were perfect, or even easy. being with someone like you was so unfamiliar for someone like toji. loving you came as easy as breathing, but choosing you, choosing to work towards being a better version of himself... that was hard as shit. even small things took time, like physical intimacy. his body count was through the roof, so he had no issue when it came to having sex with you - but affection was a whole different story. it made him feel like he was in someone else's skin, someone weaker, someone who needed to be taken care of. it took til' mid-december, when the temperatures were practically sub-zero and frost crusted the ground, to get toji to warm up (no pun intended) to cuddling.

and now you'd gone and gotten him attached to this shit just to leave him high and dry?!

it didn't matter that your boyfriend was practically a walking furnace, heat radiating off of him in waves when he caged you in his strong arms. temperature be damned, toji thought, you started this, so you had to finish it.

"wake up." his gruff voice sounded out, a stark departure from the blanket of silence the night offered. when you only stirred slightly, he gave you a little shake. "oi, get y'r ass up. i'm talkin t' you."

at that firmer command, you rose your head, a displeased frown taking the place of your previous serene expression. "fushiguro, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing waking me up at..." you paused, fumbling for your phone on the nightstand and checking the time. "...at three in the damn morning."

"don't gimme that shit. girl bye," toji grumbled, not sparing you so much as an apology for disturbing your sleep. you simply gave him a deadpan stare, making him scoff and roll over to his other side. "'s fine, not like i needed to hold ya to fall asleep anyway." he muttered bitterly into the pillow.

your eyes were already halfway closed when he turned around, but they immediately shot open when you heard his grumblings.

"what did you say? you need to cuddle me to fall asleep?" you perk up, pressing your hands on his shoulders to coax him into turning back around.

"i sure as hell didn't say 'cuddle'," he groused, but still turned around anyways. his voice might have sounded annoyed, but you knew your toji. the flicker of warmth in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"heh, you said it just now, dummy." you grinned as you snuggled up to toji's chest, earning a flick to your forehead from the man in question. but you were unbothered, simply humming, "thought ya didn't like cuddling."

"y'r makin' assumptions," toji grumbled, the low, gravelly timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "now quiet down so i can sleep."

at that, you scoffed in playful offense. "so you can sleep? you literally just woke me u-" you started, but he silenced effortlessly by pressing his lips against yours in a lazy, heated kiss.

when he pulled away, chest heaving with each hot puff of air, you were warm from way more than just the heat outside.

"go the fuck to sleep before i put you to sleep myself." he growled out, but there was no malice in his words - more of an invitation than a threat.

deciding to resist temptation this time, you settled back into his hold, your back flush against his chest. as you began to fade back into sleep, you heard toji whisper out, "meant what i said, y'know that? can't... can't sleep w' out you now."

the next words out of your mouth were simple, but they were all it took to put him at ease.

"i know, toji."

dawww <33 hope u like this fic everyone (esp mickey mwah mwah mwah) reblogs + comments appreciated !!

#hi mickey pls take my humble offering #christening the birth of this blog w a fic in yr honor my love #jjk x reader #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #shookuna.writes! જ⁀➴✒

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bradshawssugarbaby · 8 months ago

Text

Urban Cowboy - Jake Seresin x Reader

pairing: Jake Seresin x f! reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v, mildly mean!dom Jake, teasing, jealous Jake

word count: 3.2k

The sounds of some 80s pop song echoed throughout the Hard Deck, a cheap colourful strobe light flashed around the room, its rainbow coloured beams striking random bargoers as they began to dance along to whatever was playing. It was new idea your aunt had come up with - doing theme nights at the bar once a month as a way to freshen things up and breathe new life into the military bar scene.

Since you moved here four months ago, you’d gotten familiar with the regulars - there was Bradley Bradshaw, a man far older than he looked, with a penchant for comandeering the piano if the bar needed livening up, Natasha Trace, who had a fiery personality and often kept the other guys in their place, especially when the beers were flowing and they started flirting with unsuspecting patrons, Robert Floyd, the shy backseater who was always polite, tipped well and seemed to be the permanent designated driver on nights out, Reuben Fitch, who stood about a foot taller than you, and always had a witty comeback on hand, just in case, Mickey Garcia, who was sweet, but could talk anyone’s ear off about Star Trek, and Javy Machado, resident score keeper and pool table champion.

Leading the group, was your Aunt Penny’s boyfriend, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He often would come in, finding a table at the back of the room for his squad before abandoning them to spend the evening at the bar, chatting your aunt up and offering up any excuse to come behind the bar and sneak a hand to her hip or steal a squeeze of her rear. It was sweet the way your aunt and Pete were loved up, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

This afternoon, Pete came in at four o’clock sharp, just as he promised to help set up. As he hung a couple of decorations you and your aunt had managed to find online, he turned to you and smiled, watching as you prepped the theme night’s cocktail menu.

“I forgot to tell you, another one of my guys is going to be here tonight. He’s been off training at a different base for the last few months, just landed in this morning. You’ll like him. He’s a firecracker.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying he’s a cocky asshole?”

“I wouldn’t say asshole. He’s just very…confident. I think you’ll like him though.”

“Are you talking about Jake?” Penny piped up as she looked at Pete, watching as he climbed up the step ladder to hang another decoration from the ceiling.

“Yeah, don’t you think they’d hit it off?”

“I think she might hit him.”

“What? No way. Jake’s not that bad.”

Penny scoffed and shook her head, laughing. Holding her hands up in surrender, she walked away, retreating back to the bar to begin making sure all the key ingredients to your drink menu were where they needed to be. You continued to stuff the evening’s special menus into their plastic protective sleeves, shaking your head at Pete’s attempts to try and set you up with someone from his squad. It wasn’t the first time, you’d been on a date with Bradley once before, but found the age gap was too great between the two of you, with Bradley in complete agreement that you were much better suited as friends than lovers, and on a date with Reuben, who, despite efforts between the two of you, there was no chemistry shared there.

As five o’clock approached, you hurried into the back stockroom to change into your themed outfit for the night, pulling your hair out of the velcro rollers that Penny had helped you wrap your hair up into, creating the perfect 80s voluminous curl that would make even Christie Brinkley jealous. Your tight fitting Daisy Duke style shorts accentuated your curves, hugging your thighs and hips in all the right places, your crisp white button down shirt tied just under your bra, showing off your tanned, soft midsection. A pair of mid-sized silver hoop earrings hung from your earlobes to complete the look. Your aunt’s stash of Aqua-Net hairspray was all you needed to finish it off, stepping out the back door to shake your curls out and spray them with enough hairspray to ensure they wouldn’t budge for the night.

You reentered the bar to find Pete’s friends piling in, the other regular patrons all trickling in and getting comfortable as they came through, turning the bar into a sea of cheesy fake mustaches and 80s style Hawaiian shirts, brightly coloured polos and coordinating Bermuda shorts, wigs and legwarmers. The evening was quickly livening up, and you got to work behind the bar with your aunt, pulling pints and mixing drinks, firing off orders left right and center as the bar filled with partygoers.

An hour into the night, Bradley approached the bar, his aviator sunglasses perched atop his chocolate coloured curls, his loud, brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt buttoned just enough to allow a few sparing curls of chest hair to peek out from the top. He leaned against the bar, smiling at you, his mustache neatly combed to closer resemble a style from the 80s. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was trying to emulate Tom Selleck. You’d seen pictures of Bradley’s dad and Pete from back in the 80s, and recognized the shirt anywhere. It was clear Bradley was dressed identically to his father, and you had to admire the dedication he had to the theme.

“What can I get you, Bradshaw?”

“Hi dollface, I’ll take a Budweiser. And a chance to take you for a spin later?”

“We’ve done this before, Bradley,” you laughed as you cracked the top off the beer bottle and slid it across the counter to him. Bradley shook his head as he sipped the frothy liquid, grinning as he set the bottle down on the counter.

“I didn’t mean you. I’m practicing. I can’t be dressed like this and not use some kind of weird 80s shit to impress a girl, right? I’m just…using you for practice. Did it work?”

“Bradley, why don’t you, I don’t know, just, be yourself?”

“Because tonight I’m not myself. I’m some single 39 year old in the 80s trying to get a date, apparently.”

“Well then, gag me with a spoon, that was gnarly. Try a different line. One that doesn’t begin with “dollface”?”

“Got it, thanks!”

You watched as Bradley sauntered away to go try his luck with a pretty blonde over by the jukebox. You smirked to yourself as you heard Bradley start singing along to Madonna, carrying the tune with an impressive baritone that you weren’t expecting. You knew he could sing, but singing Madonna was a whole new side to him. Turning your back for a moment, you began fixing a drink for yourself, mixing together the ingredients for a Shirley Temple. You looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man approach the bar counter, his hair slicked back, and a blonde mustache that made poor Bradley’s look unimpressive rested on his upper lip. The most stunning pair of bright green eyes looked at you, and a set of perfectly straight, whitened teeth fresh out of a Colgate commercial flashed a smile at you.

“Hi Darlin’, I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

“Sure thing,” You nodded, trying hard not to audibly gulp at the adonis of a man standing in front of you.

“Are you new ‘round here?” he drawled, “I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

“Uh, within the last four months, yeah.” you nodded as you finished pulling a pint of draught for him, the frothy head of the beer perfectly resting in the glass.

“Oh! That’ll explain it. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service, m’am.” He winked, and you felt yourself melt a little at the sight of this human embodiment of a Ken doll flirting with you.

“You’re Jake?”

“Depends who’s askin’, Honey.” His accent was thick and heavy, something straight out of those reruns of The Andy Griffiths Show that your mom made you watch when you were a child.

“I’m Penny’s niece,” you nodded, giving him your name and laughing softly as your cheeks blushed, “I moved down here to help her out with things around here while I try to figure some life things out.”

“I see,” he smirked, sipping his beer, the foam brushing against his mustache as he set the glass down. “And does that list of things you’re figuring out include finding a strong, charming, handsome Southern boy?”

“It might, do you know any?” You quipped, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your own drink, pretending to feign disinterest in the handsome stranger before you.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“That so, hun? Who? Do I know him?”

“Not yet, but I think he sure would like to know you, Darlin’.”

You shook your head, your curls bouncing as you started to laugh, unable to control yourself. Jake was as bold as he was handsome, and you were suddenly realizing what Pete was referring to when he said that Jake was confident. He practically exuded a cocksure confidence from every pore in his body. And while that would normally repulse you and send you heading for the hills, with Jake, it felt different. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his magnetic charms and graces pulling you in, and your inhibitions wearing down. However, you also knew how to deal with men like this - he was in need of an ego check, and you were just the person for the job.

“Is that right? Well, you tell your little Southern-fried wannabe cowboy of a friend that if he’s interested, he’s going to have to stick around the bar all night. I promised Aunt Penny I’d help her make sure this night went smoothly, and I don’t need a knockoff Dukes of Hazzard cast member distracting me.”

“Wannabe cowboy?” Jake gasped in feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically as he slipped into an even thicker accent than earlier, “Now Darlin’, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re breakin’ my heart over here. One thing I ain’t is a wannabe cowboy. You know, I used to ride in rodeos as a kid? Was one of the best there was for under 15 year olds, ‘til I decided to join the Navy instead.”

“Oh, so you’re like, a real cowboy then,” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“S’pose you could say that. Only one real way to find out, ain’t there?”

“Take you to a farm and watch you wrangle cattle on horseback?” you retorted sarcastically.

“You’re funny, I like that.”

“I bet you do.”

Jake leaned in across the bar, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, his bright green eyes fixated on your lips as you spoke. His long eyelashes fluttered at you as he eyed you up, practically undressing you with his imagination. You grinned as you gestured to the sign behind you, reading that if you disrespect a lady, you owe everyone a round.

“Watch it, Lieutenant. If you’re not careful, I’ll go ring that bell and you’ll learn a very expensive lesson.”

“Oh, Darlin’, I can guarantee, I ain’t gonna learn anything from it. I’m just dumb enough to do it again. Can’t help myself around a pretty girl like yourself.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you laughed at his relentless attempt. You knew the only reason he persisted was because you were teasing him, but at the same time, you didn’t mind the attention he was giving you. He wasn’t as tall as Bradley, or as broad shouldered, but he was built like a linebacker, with a solid frame and the accent alone was enough to drive you crazy.

It was almost 11 when Jake stopped you again, this time, outside of the stockroom when you’d disappeared back there for more maraschino cherries and pineapple juice. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, causing his pastel-coloured polo shirt to bulge around his biceps. His lips curled up in that annoyingly perfect smile once again as he stood in your path.

“Hey, Honey, need a hand with that?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you shrugged it off, shaking your head as you smirked at him, “You often follow girls into storage rooms?”

“Only the ones worth following.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, with a response like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have a trail of broken hearts following you around.”

“What is your issue, anyway? You got a thing against blondes? Pilots?”

“Please,” you smirked, shaking your head, “I went on a date with Rooster. He’s a pilot.”

“Is it ‘cause I’m from Texas?”

“No, it’s because you’re probably the most arrogant prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of coming across, actually. God, it’s like you think all you have to do is flash that stupid handsome smile and I’ll throw myself at you.”

Jake’s face fell slightly as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could tell he wasn’t used to having a girl put him in his place like this, but his crestfallen gaze was quickly replaced by that shit-eating grin he seemed to never go without sporting.

“Honey, you’re real pretty when you get mean like that.”

“You’re impossible,” you sighed in exasperation.

“But you love it, don’t you?”

Jake closed the gap between the two of you as he spoke, taking a couple steps closer to you. You bit your lip as you hesitated, thinking about the consequences that might follow if you acted on your desires.

Fuck it.

Your hands gripped the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him down to your height as you crashed your lips into his passionately. You kissed a slow, hot trail up to his ear, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he put his hands on your hips to bring you in as close as possible, his body heat radiating on to you.

“You gonna show me just how good you are, Cowboy?”

“Yes, m’am. I reckon I could show you a better time than any other man in here.”

Jake’s hand slipped down your curves, reaching around to cup your ass cheeks as he hoisted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around your waist. You quickly discarded the cherries and juice that were in your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Jake’s lips worked their way along your neck, wet, fervent kisses that made your body squirm with pleasure, your arousal growing and burning in your stomach with each second.

“Back door?” He murmured against your neck, his hands keeping a firm hold of your ass.

“Two steps behind me, to the left,” you panted, nodding your head as he sucked on your skin.

It was unseasonably warm for May, the humidity hanging in the air as you left the air conditioned building. Jake pushed you up against the wall, using it as leverage as he quickly reached down to undo your shorts and wiggled them out of the way. He ran two of his thick fingers along the outside of your lace underwear, stroking the dampened fabric as he smirked to himself.

“Someone’s eager, aren’t ya, Darlin’?”

“Just shut up and fuck me, ok?”

“Now, that any way to ask for it?”

A wicked grin appeared on his face as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, stroking at your clit with a feather light touch, just enough to make you whine for more.

“Jake, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take me right now.”

“Shhh, Sugar, don’t want anyone to hear, do ya? Unless you get off on getting caught,” He purred as he coaxed his fingertips inside of your dripping entrance, pumping them into you with precision.

You tossed your head backwards as Jake thrusted his fingers further into you, each movement harder and faster than before. The determined look in his eye alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. This man was hell-bent on making you orgasm, and he was on the right track to get you there within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, s-so close, Jake,” you keened, your fingers gripping his thick blonde hair as he brought you to your climax.

“That’s it, Sugar. Look at you, you’re a mess and I ain’t even started on you yet.”

“J-Jake, please,” you whimpered, coming undone as he fucked his fingers into you at a breakneck pace.

“Speak up, sweetheart, can’t hear ya.”

Your head started to spin as he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he slammed his hips forwards, shoving his thick cock inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy at the sudden fullness. Trying to be quiet, you secretly thanked your lucky stars that the sounds of Your Love by The Outfield blared throughout the club. Just as the chorus picked up, Jake rocked his hips forwards again, fucking himself into you with enough force to make you feel as though he might blow your back out right then and there.

“That’s it, Sugar, takin’ me so well,” Jake smirked, “What was that you said about bein’ a wannabe cowboy? Bet those other boys can’t fuck you like this, now can they?”

You were practically rendered speechless by Jake’s precise, rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, his masculine grunting and teasing proving enough to throw you back over the edge once again. Your legs began to shake and shudder while he bucked his hips up into you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a low, pornographic moan out of Jake.

Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back, you screamed out his name, louder than you intended. You lost your ability to hold yourself together as Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, his own orgasm following close behind yours.

“Fuck, am I good?” He groaned, his eyes pleading for permission.

“On the pill, you’re good,” you panted, nodding quickly as Jake let himself go inside of you, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he repeated it over and over, praising you.

“Now, how ‘bout letting a strong, handsome Southern boy take you out on a date so he don’t feel so bad about fucking you until you can’t walk a couple hours after meetin’ ya?” He grinned as he readjusted himself and pulled his clothes back up.

“I think I can fit you into my schedule, on one condition.”

“Mhmm? What’s that?”

“Next time, you come wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Deal, Sugar, I’ll even let you wear it.”

823 notes · View notes

stylespctals · 4 months ago

Text

The nanny | Part 2 - Confession

Summary: where Y/N is the nanny for a little girl named Stevie Styles. Her job consists of traveling all around the world with the girls rockstar dad - Harry Styles. What happens when Y/N and Harry start having feelings for one another?

A/N: part 2 of The Nanny series!! Enjoy!

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut oral f/m receiving, fluff fluff fluff, slight bit of angst but not really, accusing on Harry's end, mentions of weight (Y/N is medium/plus size sorry for not mentioning before but I dont think it really makes a difference 😊)

Part 1

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

"Miss Y/N!" you hear as you feel a weight jumping up and down on your bed. You slowly open one eye to see a messy-haired four-year-old, still clad in her ariel pajamas, smiling at you brightly.

"Hi! What are you doing in here you troublemaker." You say as you drag her down on top of you to start tickling her.

"She wanted to wish you good morning, I told her to wait until you were up but she ran in here before I could stop her." You hear a deep voice say from your doorway. You look up and see Harry, only wearing pajama pants and no shirt, leaning against the wall smiling at the two of you.

You look at the clock and see it's seven-thirty in the morning. "Well you're up early," you say hugging the girl close to you. She giggles, "Daddy woke me up 'cause he has a surprise for us!" she gets up and runs to her father and he picks her up and holds her above his head while she squeals.

"Well how about me and you go make breakfast and let Miss Y/N get ready?" He says starting to walk out of the room, giving you a wink. "Oh my gosh can we have pancakes with chocolate syrup and whipped cream!" you hear Stevie yell as she runs towards the kitchen. Harry laughs and follows her down the hall. You sit there smiling, covering your face with your hands, feeling giddy.

After you get up you head into the kitchen to see Stevie sitting on the counter kicking her feet as Harry cooks the pancakes. You see a pile of bacon sitting off to the side, so you walk up and grab one as you slide past Harry.

"So what's the surprise?" You ask as you lean against the counter looking at him.

"I'm gonna be honest the surprise is more for Stevie than you, but I think you'll enjoy it too" he whispers to you, a cocky grin on his face. Leaving you slightly confused.

"Okay let us eat, then I'll get you ready okay lovebug?" he carries Stevie to a stool and places a plate in front of her, she immediately digs in. "Are you excited for your surprise?" he asks, surprised at her quick eating.

"Yes!" Stevie tries to say, her mouth full of food.

You all eat then head to go and get ready. You dress in a black top with pink bows tied on the sleeves and ripped jeans with more bows on the pockets. You accessorize with some simple gold jewelry and pink and white Gucci x gazelle that Harry gifted you.

You walk out of your room into the living room to see Harry helping Stevie put on her little shoes that match yours.

You look at their outfits to see Stevie wearing a pink romper with all the Disney princesses and frilly socks.

Harry, you could not keep your eyes off him. He is dressed in a white shirt, Mickey Mouse on the front, and baggy blue jeans with rips on the knees. He had his hair pulled back by his sunglasses and he had the same shoes on as you and Stevie.

"Hey look we match!" you announce as you walk in the room. They look up at you and Evie runs towards you and tugs on you, dragging you to the door. "I know Daddy picked my outfit and shoes out. But let's gooo please," she says. You look at Harry with a surprised look on your face.

"Yeah lets go. You got everything?" he asks. You nod and you guys pile into the car.

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

You guys have been in the car for about 45 minutes. Until you see the large sign that says Disneyland in a fancy font. Harry starts pulling into the parking lot making Evie perk up.

"Oh my god! Disneyland!" She screams, bouncing up and down in her booster seat. "I love you, daddy! Thank you." She almost cries.

"You're welcome, lovebug. I love you to the moon and back." He smiles, his heart warming at the sight of his girl so happy.

"This is amazing, thank you, Harry. But you know, you didn't have to take me with you guys, it could've just been you and Evie. I know how much she's been missing her dad." You say, so extremely grateful to be here, but not wanting to intrude.

Harry looks at you like you're insane. "Y/N I told you this yesterday, you are one of the most important people in my life, and Stevie's. Our lives would be so much different if you were in it and I can't imagine you not being here." He holds your hand, still baffled at the fact you thought he didn't want you here.

"Sorry, I just get a little scared that I'm intruding." He smiles and tells you it's okay and to just trust him.

You spend the rest of the day getting dragged around Disneyland by a very eager four-year-old, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

You guys arrive home absolutely exhausted. Evie is completely passed out and Harry heads to take her upstairs. "I'm going to shower after I put her down. You wanna meet down here when we're done and chat?" He asks

You nod and smile, "Of course, I'll see you down here in a bit."

After your shower, you pull on a brown pleasing jumper and pink plaid sleep shorts. You pull on some fuzzy socks since you know you’ll get cold.

You walk into the living room to see Harry setting up your glasses of wine and putting vinyl on his record player at a low volume.

He’s dressed in blue plaid pajama pants and a Rolling Stones t-shirt. His hair is wet and covering his forehead messily; you don’t think he’s ever looked so good.

You settle down on the couch, Harry smiles at you and sits close to you. You guys start chatting about your day and how adorable Stevie is, so happy that she had fun and enjoyed her day.

“Sooo any new relationships going on in your life?” you ask, teasing him by wiggling your eyebrows.

He chuckles and shakes his head no, “I think I’m ready to settle down with someone that matters.” He says looking deeply into your eyes.

You swallow and nod, “Yeah me too.” you say, your cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

“That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about…” he says, fidgeting; looking really nervous.

You turn your head sideways and look at him with a questioning look coming across your face.

“I’m very nervous to tell you because I’m scared of what your reaction will be. Even if the reaction is good what if it’s for the wrong reason?” he starts to stress about this making you place your hand on his leg and rub it assuringly.

“You can tell me anything Harry I promise I won’t judge,” you say making sure he knows you are here for him.

He looks so deeply into your eyes, you feel your face heat up and a different look enters his eyes that you’ve only seen a handful of times.

“I think I’m in love with you.” he blurts out. Immediately regretting saying it, thinking of all the ways you could reject him.

“What?” you gasp, you swear you feel your heart stopping in your chest.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He stands up running his fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I just thought you felt the same way which you obviously don’t. I’m so sorr-“

You stand up and cut him off by pressing your lips against his. He gasps into your mouth, and you wrap your arms around his neck; pulling him closer to you.

You pull away with a smile on your face. “I know I’m in love with you.” You say with a giggle looking into his eyes. His face breaks out into a smile and he pulls you in for another kiss.

“I know I’m in love with you too.” He mumbles against your lips as he lays you down on the couch climbing on top of you.

Suddenly he pulls away with a sort of distressed look on his face, “Are you sure you aren’t just saying this because of who I am?” He asks.

You push him off you and look at him like he’s crazy, “How could you even think I would ever do that to someone? Especially you.” you say getting kind of angry at him for accusing you of that.

“No no Y/N I didn’t mean it like that.” He rushes out reaching to grab onto your hands, “It’s just I can’t even count how many times that has happened to me before and I’m just scared because even the people I’ve really trusted have just used me.” he says looking so upset making you frown.

“I would never do that to you,” you say taking his face in your hands. “I love you, Harry, I swear I have since the moment we met.”

He smiles, looking at you fondly, “Me too, I’m so sorry for doubting you. That’s just a constant fear surrounding my head.”

You smile and pull him into another deep kiss, making him fall on top of you. He props himself up so he’s not crushing you, and runs his hands across your waist.

You guys sit there making out for around 15 minutes when his hand starts traveling lower and his mouth moves down to your neck. You moan as you feel him lick a stripe up the side of your neck.

His hand freezes when he reaches the top of your shorts, “Is this okay?” he asks, tugging on your shorts, indicating he wants them off.

You nod, breathing heavily. He grabs your chin and looks in your eyes, “Words baby.” he says sternly.

“Yes, please,” you say breathlessly. Wanting- no needing him to touch you.

He smiles and continues kissing and sucking at your neck while pulling down your shorts.

Once your shorts are off you stop him. Wait-“ you say, making him back away and stop touching you. “Should we move this to the bedroom,” you say, flustered, pushing a strand of hair out his face.

He smirks and nods, standing up and grabbing your shorts, pulling you towards your bedroom. Your room is on the first floor while his and Stevies' is on the 2nd, so you decide yours will be the safest one not to wake his daughter.

When you get to your room he picks you up making you scared that you’re too heavy for him to hold and you try to get him to put you down.

“Harry no I’m too heavy,” you say, squirming a little.

He drops you on the bed and looks at you with a stern look on his face. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself. You’re perfect,” he says climbing over you and kissing all over your neck making you whine.

“Can I take this off?” He says, pulling on the jumper you have on. You sit up and pull it off yourself, revealing that you’re not wearing a bra. He almost moans as he sees you bare before him.

“God y/n you’re going to kill me.” He says as he leans forward and buries his face in your breasts. You moan and grip his hair as he takes your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.

“Off.” you moan as you tug at the back of his shirt. He leans up rips his shirt off and slides his pajama pants down to reveal his tight briefs. A bulge is very prominent in them, making you bite your lip.

He starts kissing down your breasts and over your plushy stomach, making you suck in. You look down and see him give you a look which makes you let out a breath.

He starts pulling your wet panties down, looking up at you for approval. “Yes please do whatever you want.” you gasp, making him smirk, pulling your panties all the way down revealing your soaking wet cunt.

He spreads your legs wide and you watch him bite his lip as he stares at your pussy. “So fucking pretty.” He says leaning in and kissing around where you want him, his lips dragging on your inner thighs and mound.

“Stop teasing,” you whine as this goes on for a while, he smirks.

“You want my mouth on your cunt baby, don’t you?” He says, a cocky smirk on his face. You almost roll your eyes but you know he’s right. You whine and nod your head quickly, “Please.” you say sweetly making him immediately latch on to your pussy his eyes rolling back in his head at the taste of you.

You let out a shamelessly loud moan as you lift your hips up into his mouth. He wraps his arms around your hips holding you still as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

You almost scream as you bite your hand to keep you somewhat quiet. You’ve never been eaten out before and you never thought it would feel this good.

He keeps alternating from sucking a licking around your clit until, he slips his tongue into your hole, making you lift up and grip his hair; bucking your hips to match his pace.

You're withering around feeling your orgasm build up quicker than it ever has. “I’m close, H” he starts going faster his head moving in between your legs making you cry out as your orgasm crashes through you, your legs shaking from the feeling.

You take short gasps of air as the aftershocks of your orgasm pass through you. Harry slides up your body and catches your lips in his, you whine at the taste of yourself.

"Was that good?" he asks, rubbing his nose against yours. You grip the hair on the nape of his neck, smiling, "So good." You giggle as you pull him back into a kiss.

After a minute you pull away and flip you guys over so you're now on top. "My turn now." you giggle. You drag your lips over his body until you reach the top of his briefs, you take the material in your teeth, "Can I take these off of you huh?" he nods eagerly, "Words baby." you mock him.

He rolls his eyes, "Yes please." He says, petting your hair as you start to drag down his underwear. You gasp as you see his cock spring out, not expecting it to be so big.

You start by taking his cock into your hands, spitting into your palm to help your hand glide over him. You do this for a few minutes until you decide to lick stripes over him, making him moan and whimper your name. You take his cock in your mouth and start bobbing your head up and down surprising yourself and him with your confidence.

"God y/n," He whined trying not to grab your head and push you further down. You decide to try and deep-throat him, you gag and pull off of him.

"Sorry," you say, embarrassed.

"Y/N it's okay, do what you can handle I don't want you to think I'm pressuring you." You smile and nod and continue on with what you are doing.

Your tongue circles around his mushroom tip, tasting the bitter taste of his precum, but you don't mind the taste; you enjoy it.

You suck him in your mouth again, using your hands for the parts your mouth can't reach.

"Y/n, baby I'm so close. Please don't stop." You start moving your head faster wanting his cum down in your mouth.

You stop and suck harder as you feel his cum burst into your mouth the thick liquid filling up quickly.

You pull off him when you're done and his cock starts to soften in your hold. You lick the rest of his orgasm off his cock and swallow the load he left in your mouth.

You crawl up his body and lay on his chest.

"Wow, I wasn't expecting that today." He says, a chuckle leaving his lips.

"Me neither," You giggle cuddling into his chest. You feel yourself starting to drift off on his chest.

"Y/N, I might have to go back into my room in case Stevie wakes up and comes to my room." He says sitting up.

"Oh," you say disappointed, reaching over to grab your hoodie, pulling it over your head, and getting up.

Harry grabs your hand, pulling you back into his arms, "You know what let's both move to my room, so what if she comes in, we will just tell her what we are because I love you so much and I know she will be happy." He says. You smile so big and large. He gets up pulling on his underwear and pants and throwing his shirt and your clothes into the laundry bin.

He picks you up and sets you on the bed, grabbing you a new pair of panties and sliding them up your smooth legs. He lifts you up your legs wrapping around his waist and he carries you up the stairs into his room. He lays you down on the bed and climbs in next to you cuddling into your backside.

"I love you so much. Goodnight, love" He whispers in your ear making you shiver.

"I love you too. Goodnight, H."

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

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it.

I am so incredibly grateful for all the support I got on the first part of this series and it also being my first post. Im so happy to build a platform on here and look out for new stories coming out.

Lots of love xx

- Mae

#harry styles #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles story #harrystyles #my writing

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teddybeartoji · 9 months ago

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EVERY CHARACTER THAT GETS CALLED A "PRETTY BOY" IS A FAVOURITE OF MINEEEEE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM<333333333

#this is in fact about oikawa #but i do really mean it #pls when they're introduced as a cocky pretty boy😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍#ultimate gender #i wish i could reach that one day😔😔😔#mickey vs gender #4 - 9

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nickeverdeen · 3 months ago

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Calling Top Gun Maverick characters “wife/husband” instead of “girlfriend/boyfriend” while being on the phone with someone

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell

Maverick would give you a subtle, knowing smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement

He’d raise an eyebrow slightly, intrigued by your choice of words

Once you’re off the phone, Maverick might tease you lightly, “Husband, huh? You sure you’re ready for that?”

He’d give you a gentle nudge or a squeeze of the hand, clearly pleased

You’d catch him smiling warmly, clearly touched by the unexpected title

Maverick wouldn’t say much but would give you a look that says he’s very okay with it

He might add it to your banter, occasionally calling you his “husband” or “wife” in return

Penny Benjamin

Penny would immediately flash you a cheeky grin, loving the new title

She’d give you a playful wink, clearly enjoying the unexpected upgrade

Once you’re off the phone, Penny might tease you with, “I like the sound of that”

She’d laugh softly to herself, obviously delighted by your words

Penny would reach out to touch your arm or hand, appreciating the sentiment

She’d respond with a playful flirt, something like, “Does that mean we’re planning a wedding now?”

Penny would likely pull you in for a quick kiss, happy and amused by the title

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Hangman would immediately react with a wide, cocky grin, loving every second of it

He’d throw a quick, witty retort your way, “I knew I was husband material.”

Hangman would puff up his chest a little, clearly proud of the title

Once you’re off the phone, he’d tease you relentlessly, “So when’s the ceremony?”

He’d respond with a flirtatious comment, something like, “I’ll give you a great husband.”

Hangman would give you a charming wink, fully embracing the term

He might make a sly comment about you having good taste in husbands

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Rooster would get a bit flustered, not quite sure how to react at first

He’d break into a surprised but happy smile, loving the unexpected term

Rooster would chuckle nervously to himself, a little embarrassed but clearly pleased

He might blush slightly, especially if you’re in front of others, but he’d still love it

Once you’re off the phone, he might say softly, “Husband, huh? I like that.”

Rooster might gently tease you about it later, “So, how long have we been married now?”

He’d give you a long, affectionate look, clearly touched by the sentiment

Natasha “Pheonix” Trace

Phoenix would immediately laugh, clearly amused and delighted by your words

She might give you a light, playful punch on the arm, “Wife? I like the sound of that.”

Phoenix might feign surprise, “Wow, didn’t know we were that official.”

She’d grin at you teasingly, loving the playful nature of the title

Once you’re off the phone, she’d quickly retort with, “Guess that makes you my wife/husband, huh?”

Phoenix would likely continue the banter, throwing in some flirtatious remarks

She’d clearly be happy with the title, maybe bringing it up later with a smile

Robert “Bob” Floyd

Bob would be stunned into silence for a moment, not quite sure how to react

His face would turn bright red, clearly flustered but pleased by the title

Bob would give you a shy, sweet smile, loving the idea but too shy to say much

He’d let out a nervous laugh, trying to play it cool but clearly a bit overwhelmed

Once you’re off the phone, Bob might say timidly, “Husband? I, um, didn’t know we were there yet.”

He’d give you a grateful, affectionate look, touched by the unexpected upgrade

Bob might make a soft comment about how much he likes the sound of it

Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia

Fanboy would instantly get excited, his eyes lighting up at the word “husband.”

He’d immediately start playfully joking, “So when are we booking the honeymoon?”

Fanboy would break into a big grin, clearly loving the idea

Once you’re off the phone, he’d be full of energy, “Husband! I knew it! We’re that good!”

He might go over-the-top with his reaction, acting like you’ve just proposed

Fanboy would be laughing joyfully, clearly thrilled with the new title

He’d constantly tease you about it afterward, bringing it up at every opportunity

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withahappyrefrain · 2 years ago

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He’s All That

Summary: Bob has always been shy, which has gotten in the way of meeting folks. So, his friends decide to give him an impromptu makeover.

Shoutout to @liz-allyn who came up with this idea and said “Abby, how have you not written this yet?” You’re not in this fandom, but I love you and love how we bonded over our childhood love of Bill Pullman

Warnings: Language, Rooster being a himbo, Phoenix having the majority of the group’s braincells, drinking, afab reader

Bob was shy.

Always was, always had been.

As a child, he found comfort in clinging to his mother's leg while she talked to other people. It allowed him to take in what was happening without being dragged into the conversation.

Of course, folks always noticed him. Always cooed as they kneeled down to exclaim, "Aren't you just a shy young thing!" before continuing the conversation with his mother.

Sometimes, he misses those days. Not the part about being a child. Moreso, he missed how folks would make the observation and just move on.

Now he had friends who could not take a hint.

"Just go talk to her!" Natasha badgered. Bob had hoped he could get away with tucking himself in the corner and stealing quick looks.

The group had decided to switch things up and go to a regular bar. It was a nice change, getting to wear civilian clothes instead of the khaki uniform. New sights and new faces.

One face in particular had stood out to Bob as soon as he walked into the place.

"I don't….I don't want to bother her. That would be rude," Bob stammered, staring down at the cup of peanuts in his hands.

He thought he was being subtle. Glancing over to steal looks and glimpses of her radiant smile. Offering to pick up drinks so he could walk by and hear that bright laugh that was sweeter than any love song he had ever heard.

Apparently not.

"Dude, she's been looking your way the whole night," Bradley commented, joining the two in the booth.

"She could have been looking at any one of us!" Bob whispered, hoping it would send the subtle message to everyone else in the group to quiet down. The amount of alcohol they had consumed had already impaired their ability to gauge the volume of their voice.

"I followed her eyes, they led directly to you," Mickey said before taking another sip of his beer, joining the already crowded booth, "Go talk to her."

"She's…she's with her friends! That would be rude!" Couldn't they see that Bob didn't have the backbone required for him to just waltz up and start a conversation? If he did, he wouldn’t still be sitting with them right now.

"So then wait until she gets the next round of drinks! It should be her turn soon," Natasha commented, narrowing her eyes on her backseater.

Why was he so aversive? The girl was practically perfect for Bob. Confident but not cocky. Wasn't afraid to be loud, but only when she needed to be. Sweet with her gingham sundress and the countless thank you’s she said to Penny, a hint of edge with how she stayed on top of her friends' stories and jokes. But not intimidating.

Bob had been looking with stars in his eyes. The lovesick look that adorned his face would have been cute, if that wasn't all he planned on doing that night. Natasha knew Bob and knew he wouldn't make a move without major encouragement.

"I-I don't want to bother her." Couldn't they get the hint? He was nervous, painfully so. Being able to waltz up to beautiful women and strike up a conversation was never in the cards for Bob. He'd stumble through his words, turning in a blushing, rambling mess, talking about the most random things, like the Lego set he just completed.

And who wanted that?

Bob could easily calculate a missile range on the fly. But talking to someone he found attractive?

Nope. Couldn't do that even if his life depended on it.

"It's not bothering if she's been eyeing ya," Bradley countered before taking another sip of his beer. Was he one to talk? Perhaps. But Bob didn’t need to know that.

"She came out to have a good time with her friends, I doubt she wants to talk to some random guy," Bob mumbled.

A collective sigh was heard from the squad. This wasn't unusual for Bob- trying to get him to talk to people he clearly found attractive was like pulling teeth.

"Alright baby on board, I'm already tired of this conversation. Either you talk to her within the next twenty minutes or I will," Hangman declared before grabbing Javy for another round of darts.

The group stared at Bob, who was now shifting in his seat, face bright red.

"C'mon Bob, are you really going to let that sweet girl deal with Bagman?" Phoenix practically begged her backseater.

Bob didn't want her to deal with that. He wanted to talk to her, to make her smile, to make her laugh.

But how could he compete with Hangman? The man was not only good looking, but he could get out a complete sentence with zero stuttering.

Bob knew exactly what would happen. He would stumble up to the beautiful woman who had stolen his heart with just one smile, barely able to get out his name. Once she saw he was incapable of talking without making a fool of himself, she'd find an excuse to walk away and go talk to someone like Hangman.

"Just go talk to her, tell her you think she has a great smile," Bradley offered. At this point, it was no longer Bob just being ‘Bob’. It was painful to watch.

Bob scoffed, "Her smile isn't great. It rivals the sun."

"Oh my god, just say that!" Natasha felt like she was talking to one of her many younger siblings, meaning the urge to smack Bob upside the head was growing stronger and stronger.

"I can't! I'm….." he sighed, "Okay look at me."

"Why-"

"Just look at me!" His cobalt eyes were narrowed, his thin lips formed into a tight line- Bob's adorable way of looking stern.

"Now look at Hangman," he instructed once his friends finally followed his order, "Now look back at me."

"Is something supposed to be happening?" Mickey whispered to Bradley, who simply shrugged.

"Notice the difference? Please tell me you see the difference," Bob practically begged.

"I mean yeah; Hangman would benefit from having someone tell him to sit the fuck down and you're a pleasant human being," Natasha laughed.

"He…" Bob signed, "There's a type of guy that girls usually go for and out of the two….it's not me."

"Bob! You're an amazing guy, and as a woman I can confirm that any lady would be lucky to have you," Natasha assured her friend.

"Nat, no offense but isn't your view kinda skewed since you don't like men?" Bradley whispered, receiving a deadly glare in response.

"Okay, well as someone who's actually in a relationship," now it was Mickey's turn to receive a death glare, this time from both Bradley and Natasha, "Cielo has told me so many times that she doesn't understand how you're single."

"Your girlfriend has also said she wants to adopt me, so that's like my mom saying she thinks I'm swell." Bob sighed, pondering if now was a good time to start drinking.

"What we're all trying to say Bob, is that you're a catch," Bradley stepped in, "You just need to grab her attention! I have a great song for that-"

"We are not singing a song again," Nat quickly snapped.

"My ears are still hurting from Coyote failing to hit every note," Mickey commented, pulling on his ear for added effect.

"Okay, if we're not doing a song- which would totally work by the way- what should we do then? Give him a makeover or something?"

"That might be the first intelligible thing you've said all day," Nat commented.

"Roo's onto something. We just need to spruce Bob up," Mickey said, analyzing his friend's current appearance.

"What do you mean-"

"Roo, go get the comb that I know you have in your car. Mick, get our friend a confidence booster shot,” Natasha ordered, already on board with the idea.

"What are we- Nat, where are we going?" Bob asked as his pilot began dragging him to the bathroom.

—----------------------------------------

"Just follow me. If we had more time, I would put on the Teen Movie Makeover Montage playlist I have saved on Spotify," Phoenix said, trying to reach for the buttons on his top and walk at the same time.

"You're what?!"

Growing up with three sisters and being in the military, Mickey had walked in on strange things.

The sight of his friends in the bathroom of the bar, Phoenix trying to do Bob's hair in the sink, Bob being forced to sit in a chair, dodging Phoenix's hands, and Rooster holding up two Hawaiian shirts…….was high up there on the list.

"Why do you have two shots?" Bradley asked, as if Mickey was somehow the strange one in this situation.

"Why do you have two Hawaiian shirts, in addition to the one you're already wearing?" Mickey retorted.

"One of them is for Bob."

"For the last time-stop that! I'm not wearing- I mean it, Natasha!" Bob hissed.

"Which one do you think is best? I think the orange and red one would bring out his eyes," Bradley commented, ignoring Natasha and Bob arguing.

"Bob, if you didn't put so much gel in your hair, this wouldn't be so damn difficult!" Nat snapped back.

"Dude, you have curly hair?" Mickey asked, walking over to the sink to inspect his friend and roommate's hair.

"Uh, I think it's wavy?" Bob replied. Half of his hair had been doused with sink water, as was the right upper side of his shirt.

"Cielo is gonna be so mad at you! You could have gone with us when she was helping me restock the hair care routine she created for me!" The level of betrayal was not quite what Mickey felt when Bob admitted to liking Star Wars more than Star Trek, but it was pretty close.

"You and your girlfriend are so cute, it makes me want to puke," Natasha muttered.

"I call dibs on the hair. You two can help him take the confidence booster shots," Mickey instructed his friends.

Phoenix took both shots, motioning at Bob to open his mouth.

"I'm not drinking-"

"Either you take them or I tell Bradshaw to put down the Hawaiian shirts and open your mouth for you."

Bob took the shots, nearly spitting out the liquor that was burning his throat and nose.

"Oh my god, that's awful. What the heck was that?" Bob asked between coughs.

"Confidence booster. Also known as tequila," Mickey grinned as he began scrunching water into Bob's hair.

"That's disgusting! Also how is any of this," Bob gestured to the strange site that was taking place in the bathroom, "supposed to help me?!"

"You need to switch up your look! And what better way than with a new hairdo?" Phoenix said.

"Plus, that tequila should start taking effect soon. Now, blue or red?" Bradley asked, motioning to the shirts.

"We are trying to make this girl notice him in a good way Bradley," Natasha teased as she finished unbuttoning Bob's navy shirt, revealing a white t-shirt underneath.

"Wait, I think the white t-shirt is a better look!"

"Bradshaw, your observation skills are unparalleled," Natasha muttered, voice dripping in sarcasm.

"It shows off your arms and your veins! A lot of women dig veins for some reason," Bradley remarked, observing his colleague and friend.

"Isn't that usually a sign of dehydration?"

"Considering how much he loves to drink Coke Zero, that checks out," Mickey commented.

"My arms feel bare," Bob rubbed an arm with his hand, not used to showing off. He still kept his shirt on at the beach.

"Okay, what do you think?" Mickey asked, Bob's hair now fully ungelled and several curls swooping over his forehead.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Bob commented, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

"That's just the tequila taking effect."

"Wait! It's just missing one more thing," Rooster leaned over, taking off Bob's glasses. He folded them and clipped them to the v-neck of Bob's shirt, much like one would with a pair of sunglasses

"I need those to see!"

"You'll be close enough to her, it'll be fine," Rooster said, despite the fact that was not how poor eyesight worked.

"Should we get him another shot?" Mickey whispered to Nat.

"I don't think he's used to this much alcohol, we don't want him throwing up on her shoes," Nat whispered.

"Wait, that's a thing?!" Bob all but yelled.

"Alright, let's get him out of here and find the future Mrs. Floyd."

—-------------------------------------------

Bob didn't curse that often.

But this was fucking stupid.

He was stumbling around the bar (because he couldn't see jack shit), trying to find this girl (who was probably already talking to Hangman) without getting in anyone's face or dry heaving from the three tequila shots he had been made to take (which was harder than it looked).

Bob felt ridiculous, he knew for certain that he looked ridiculous. Why did his friends think this would work? Why did he think this would work?

What would he even say? He wasn't confident like Hangman, charming like Coyote, coy like Phoenix, cheeky like Rooster, or romantic like Mickey.

He was just…..Bob.

Sure, family members had told him "Oh Robert, any lady would be lucky to have ya!" He had heard countless "You're adorable/delightful/so charming, how are you single?" from his friends and their significant others. It was an attempt to boost him up, make him feel good.

All it did was highlight the loneliness he felt, his inability to talk to someone he fancied, and his lack of luck when it came to finding someone he could potentially settle down with.

He had tried. Blind dates, dating apps, striking up a conversation at a bar. All had ended in disaster, with Bob still single at the end.

This was pointless, so with a heavy sigh, Bob turned around to head towards the door-

when he ran straight into someone.

Due to the height difference, their head went straight into Bob's broad chest. He bucked his knees to study himself, wrapping one arm around the waist of the other person and placing his other hand on the back of their thigh to steady them.

"I am so sorry!" A sweet, familiar voice said against the fabric of his t-shirt, sending vibrations all throughout his body.

The person looked up, revealing the most beautiful eyes Bob had ever seen.

Oh fuck it was her.

"A-are you okay?" He asked, eyes squinting so he could take in every detail of her face; every eyelash, mark, mole.

"I'm good, thanks for catching me!" It was then Bob realized his hands were still on her. He became all too aware of the fabric that draped her waist, even more aware of the soft skin of her bare thigh.

"I'm….I'm so sorry," he removed his hands from her body, taking a step back, "I um I should have watched where I'm going."

"I mean, it's hard to watch out for someone who's literally not in your line of vision," She giggled, bringing a hand up to her mouth. It was then Bob noticed the small outline of a moon inked on her inner wrist.

Bella Luna.

Somewhere, Bradley, Phoenix, and Mickey were all mouthing something for him to say.

Good thing he couldn't see jack shit.

"I should have been more careful," one of his hands reached up to the nape of his neck, running his hands through the curls and did she just bite her lip at me?

"So should I! Honestly, it's my fault," she began digging through her purse, "I really should be wearing these!"

Bob's mouth dropped as she pulled out a pair of black octagonal glasses and placed them on her face.

The frames were perfect, accentuating her gorgeous features, particularly her bright, doe-like eyes.

Bob could stare into those eyes for all of eternity. They were warm but also grounding, like the force of gravity that always pulled him back from sky to land.

He would never complain about being brought down if she was there on the ground.

"Oh my god, they're going to get married," Bradley remarked to Natasha and Mickey. The three were huddled together, watching from a distance.

"Just because she wears glasses too doesn't make her Bob's future wife," Natasha's eyes could not roll any harder.

"Nah, I have a knack for these things. Called it with Mickey and his girl and he's currently saving up for a ring. Also did you message her Aunt yet? Today's her birthday," Bradley asked the other WSO.

"Yeah….." Mickey said, giving the two pilots no confidence as he quickly pulled out his phone to type up a message.

"Well, it's only fitting I wear mine then," Bob said with a smile on his face, reaching down to grab his glasses. Whether it was the tequila or her presence that was putting him at ease, he didn't know. And he wasn't super concerned in regards to finding out.

Her eyes widened when Bob put his glasses on, "Oh my god! You're," she put a hand up to her forehead, as if she was smacking herself for not realizing it sooner, "Lieutenant Floyd! I am so sorry! I'm-I'm far-sighted and you didn't have your glasses on so I had no idea it was you I had-"

"Y-you know my name?" Bob asked, astounded that this angel in her adorable glasses knew who he was.

Her eyes widened at his question, heat rushing to her face, "Yeah, I um…I noticed you from across the bar, not that I was staring, it's just hard not to notice you…wait, that sounds bad! You're just really handsome and so-"

Bob felt a hand squeeze one of his shoulders, "She was asking who the guy in glasses was."

Bob turned his head and much to his (and everyone else's) surprise, there was Hangman standing there with a smirk.

Jake was only there long enough to establish his presence and flash a knowing wink to the woman who was now clearly flustered.

"I-I am so sorry," She stammered out, unable to look Bob in the eye.

"Why?" Bob asked. Usually he was the one apologizing in these types of situations. But he wasn't. He actually felt….pretty good? Was this what feeling confident was like?

She had displayed interest in him, asking for his name. Which confirmed that all those times he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, she was actually looking at him.

And that was when he had his glasses and gelled hair. She looked at him when he was Bob.

That made him feel pretty damn good.

"Plus, I've been looking for the moon to my stars for years. Would hate to see you go after we just met," He added, giving her a smile so soft it made her knees weak.

Her brows knit together in confusion, as Bob took off his watch. Confusion turned into astoundment when he revealed a cluster of three small stars, inked on his inner wrist.

He held it up to her tattooed wrist. She stared in silence.

Two separate tattoos. Now complete as one.

“Yeah, they’re getting married,” Jake commented, now standing with Mickey, Bradley, and Natasha.

"See? Even Hangman agrees with me!" Bradley exclaimed.

"A broken clock is right twice a day Bradshaw, don't get used to it."

She looked down at the inked skin- hers and Bob's. Then back at him, then down again.

The silence got to Bob, who began to follow his natural instincts: apologize.

Bob liked to think he wasn’t super corny. Sure, he always planned to bring roses weekly to his person. That was a given. But matching tattoos?

Maybe it was a bit too much.

"Can I buy you a drink?" She asked, unphased by his rambling.

"Sorry, that was really cheesy, I just always thought that the moon and stars go together better as a couple's tattoo than the moon and sun, because they don't ever meet and I just said couple's tattoos, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Can it be water? My friends made me take three tequila shots to help me talk to you, but all it's done is made the room start to spin," Bob asked, completely serious.

"Absolutely!" She found his hand with ease, threading her fingers through his, "My friends made me take two vodka shots as a 'confidence boost', so I would love some water right now."

"Lead the way, Luna." Bob couldn't help but smile at how the nickname caused the bridge of her nose to scrunch up in delight.

He'd do anything to see it again.

Something was telling him the probability of that was extremely likely.

Call it luck or confidence. Either way, Bob Floyd felt good.

________________________________________

@chxosunbound @heartsforts @lt-bradshaw @soverign-lights @mymamalife @bobfloydsbabe

#my writing #Bob Floyd #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd fluff #robert bob floyd fic #Lewis Pullman

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 2 years ago

Text

(Un)bearable

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), Enemies to lovers, kinda dom!Soap, rough, lil bit degrading but nothing horrible, use of the nickname "puppy"

Summary: Reader is new to the 141 and despite coming in hand picked by Price, Soap can't seem to get his head round the fact that you're on his team. Soon silly little arguments turn physical and well...there's more than one way to decide who's top dog.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

A/N: Happy haggis day folks! Hope you enjoy this lovely Soap smut.

-🧼-

When you first joined the unit, you and Soap took to each other like rats to poison. It’s not that you went into the 141 with a bad attitude or were looking to make enemies by any means - but from the first moment you meet John “Soap” Mactavish you can’t help but grit your teeth and hope that you get a chance to wipe that smug smirk from his face. Preferably with a blunt object, but generally by any means necessary.

It all started when you walked into a meeting room, ready for your first briefing as a part of your new unit and the only other one there was Soap. His legs were crossed and propped up on a desk, hands resting on top of head and smoothing down his mohawk. He was sitting there casually looking as if he was about to start a nap. It made you raise your eyebrows, but you quickly shook off your surprise and said hello, introducing yourself.

“Aw, eh…nice to meet you? Are you lost?” He frowned.

You blinked at him, taking a second to figure out what he meant. Was he teasing you? Was this some kind of weird hazing thing? Though, after a few seconds of silence pervading the stuffy little room, you realised he wasn’t joking.

“No?” You answer back, just as confused. “This is the room Captain Price booked out, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. Are you here to bring coffee or somethin’?”

You immediately felt your back tense up and suddenly all the dumb, slack jawed voices of recruits from your past flare up in your head, your body practically vibrating with anger. People look at you and they never assume very much, but when it comes to letting you loose in a fight they’re suddenly very glad to have you on their team. And after a few breaths to calm yourself down, you realised you’d have an opportunity to prove yourself later.

“I’m here because Price asked me to be,” you said sullenly, taking a seat as far away from the soldier as you could manage.

He raised his brows but he didn't question you further. Thankfully, he didn’t get a chance to. Everyone else started filtering in and taking their seats silently and Price stood at the head of the room, eyeing you and your lingering glare with his usual measured look. He knew that Soap probably pissed you off. Hell, you figured Soap probably pissed the Captain off most of the time.

It was when he finally introduced you to the rest of the team as “Sergeant” that Soap finally clocked why you were there for the briefing, and yet the Scotsman didn’t look embarrassed or even apologetic. No. His face erupted into a cocky grin and he would sneak looks at you every so often, measuring you up and looking like he was in complete disbelief.

When you were finally released from the meeting you could hear him and Ghost when they retreated down the opposite end of the hall. He didn’t even try to quiet his stupidity obnoxious voice, which was allowed unbidden, to bounce down the corridor like a waving red cape to a bull.

“Fuckin’ mind blowing that that is our new team member,” he laughed, “We’d be better working with Mickey Mouse.”

“Soap,” comes the Lieutenant’s voice, growling a warning.

“What? Aren’t you even a little bit shocked?”

“I’m sure Price took them on for a reason…Just fuckin’ leave it, alright?”

“…You’re probably right.”

Though, Soap didn’t leave it. He took every opportunity he could to rile you up, and that included fucking with your callsign.

You’d been out on your first mission together when he’d seen you getting into a tussle. Though just as Johnny had been about to step in and help, you’d managed to get a lucky kick at the guy's ankle and finally took him down when you regained your grip on your knife - Leaving Soap standing staring at you, gun at the ready with nothing to shoot.

“Get you, scrappin’ just like a wee bulldog,” he’d smirked, voice crackling over the comms for all to hear.

“Shut it, Soap,” you growled, already looking to fan out and move away from him.

“Ooft,” he chuckled. “You’re like one of those bad tempered ones, the little yappy horrible bulldogs. What are they called again?”

“Frenchies,” someone says through the line.

“That’s it. Wee frenchie, nippin’ at the enemy’s heels.”

You couldn’t tell who it was that provided the answer, but from then on you vowed that if you ever found out you’d pay them back for it tenfold. Soap had proceeded to tease you with it for the rest of the op and then, because everyone found your reaction so entertaining, it stuck. You were Frenchie for the rest of time.

As if that wasn’t enough, you got into some amounts of back and forth during missions, sometimes to a point that Price would threaten to bash your heads together when you got back. Though, it never deterred you both. It was like a horrible little game that you played, trying to one up the other and not lose control, a test of wills, a battle you waged privately. One that often ended in you going to sleep vowing you’d be the last one to see him through a scope one day.

On your latest mission you’d been traversing a small town one night, picking off your targets quietly and trying to avoid an all out firefight. You, Ghost and Soap were working your way through buildings like a vicious pack of wolves, picking off the men like mice. Occasionally you’d mutter through the comms link, but tried to stay off it, content to leave Ghost and Soap to their stupid jokes and chatter.

“What do you do when your doctor gives you a year to live?” Ghost asks, voice raspy as he steps away from a kill.

You sigh, knowing you’d be subjected to another one of the boys’ awful wisecracks. It was at times like those you thought of better days, days where you worked with people that didn’t clog up the comms with their shite chat. Days that you liked all of your teammates (or at least could go without wanting to seriously maim any of them)

“I dunno,” Soap replied in an almost whisper.

“You shoot them and a judge gives you fifteen years,” Ghost deadpans.

Both you and Johnny groan over the line, for once united in something. Ghost liked to tell truly awful jokes, though, had he told genuinely funny ones then it was unlikely you’d be alive to enjoy them much longer. You couldn’t afford to burst out laughing when there were still plenty of men out there in the shadows that would love to discover you and rain bullets like a monsoon.

“You’re awfully quiet, Frenchie. Still with us?” Ghost rumbles.

“Your jokes are just too funny LT,” you murmur, sighing as you realise the house you’re in is clear. “I’m laughing so hard there’s no sound coming out.”

“Cheeky cunt,” Ghost chuckles, disappearing for a moment until he speaks again. “You got anything better?”

“Maybe.”

“G’on then,” Soap urges you snarkily. “Give us your best.”

“Alright then…where’d Soap go after getting lost on the minefield?” You say, smirk dancing on your lips

“Where?” Ghost asks.

“Everywhere,” you whisper darkly.

“Fuckin’ hell, Frenchie,” Ghost snorts, covering the sound of Johnny’s sharp inhale.

They both knew you were thoroughly enjoying the mental image that swam around your head. It was distracting, but you think you still have your head on straight. You still managed to pace around the little dirt roads like a spectre, moving silently and unseen through the the dark purpling night. That is, you think so, until you’re about to be surprised.

Just as the guy was about to swing for you, he flew back and onto the ground with a thud, struggling as he let go of his last breath. The weapon he held in his hands is released as his body goes limp and it crumbles down the hill, kicking up a little dust as it goes. A piece of debris heavy enough that it would’ve bludgeoned you to death on first try.

“What's brown and bad for your teeth?” Johnny grins.

You groan quietly.

“The brick that was about to get smashed across yer smug. Fuckin’. Face. Frenchie.”

-🧼-

In the end you’d all come back from the mission alive. Despite the fact that you had to begrudgingly admit that it was, in part, due to Soap, you didn’t come back too sour. In fact you even joined drinks for once and sat with the team. It was nice to unwind together rather than laying in bed alone, head filled with all that you’d done and could’ve done better.

Though, after a few drinks and plenty of nonsense chat later you’d started to feel tired. The guys had gone from shouting and laughing up a storm to quietly chatting about this and that, going into ‘remember the time…’ stories that you had nothing to contribute to. With that realisation, you’d figured you’d just call it a night and quietly say your goodbyes.

You hadn’t really realised how sleepy you were until you’d stood up. It was only when you’d sluggishly taken a few steps that you felt a familiar heaviness descending over you, and resolved to get to bed as soon as you could, rushing to get out. Though when you’d shouldered your way out through the heavy wooden doors of the pub, you were greeted with an extremely unpleasant interruption to your plans. His smile and breath curled out into the cold air like a dragon's smoke, and he didn’t look like he was letting you go without a passing comment.

The mental warfare continues, you’d thought bitterly.

“You leavin’ already, French?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, folding your shivering arms around your middle.

“Figure I’ve had enough. What about you? I didn’t know you smoked,” you frowned, looking at the half smoked cigarette that was dangling in his hands.

“Social smoker. Ye want one?”

“Doesn’t look very social to me,” you smirked, gesturing to his lack of companions.

“Would be if you joined,” he shrugged.

You shook your head instead of replying - thinking better of continuing the conversation. You just wanted to head inside and roll up into your sheets, in no mood to deal with any more for the day. Escape the nicotine clouds that threatened to stick to your body and cloy at your throat, the thought of anything containing his breath sticking to you in any way was enough to have you wincing.

You were just about to walk away when he piped up again.

“Why is it we don’t seem to get on very well, eh?”

You stopped in your place and felt every fibre in your body shaking. Was he seriously asking that? You had about a million answers to his question, but most of all you just wanted to strangle him and tell him it was because he was incapable of shutting the fuck up and leaving you alone.

Even after the amount you’d drunk, you managed to summon some self control and stay in place.

“You’re annoying as fuck,” you said instead.

You had still had enough liquid courage that your social filter failed, however.

“What do you mean I’m annoyin’,” he laughed.

“I mean you’re the most obnoxious fucking dickhead I’ve ever had the displeasure of working with.”

Well apparently the beast was unleashed.

“Bit harsh,” Soap choked out, laughing out a gust of smoke.

“It’s true - you’re unbearable.”

He rolled his eyes at that, but his smirk remained.

“Fine, I’m an obnoxious arsehole…what’s that make you then, wideo?

“What about me?”

“Takes two to tango, doesn’t it? I’d say it makes you as ‘unbearable’ as I am.”

A rush of white hot fury flooded your veins and you marched back up to him, attempting to invade his space as much as you could bear. You met his gaze and glared up at him, shooting daggers and whatever else you could manifest. It’s on motherfucker.

“I’m not the one that called someone out for being unworthy before they got a chance to prove themselves. I’m not the one that constantly acts unprofessional. I’m not the one that picks on people for no good reason. I’m not the one-“

“You been keepin a list of grievances on me or somethin’,” he teased, cutting you off.

You growled and before you could even think, you watched yourself bat the cigarette from his hands like a feral cat and watched it fly. It arced through the air and landed with a bouncing finish, scattering red ash into the quiet wind. It took a second of silence till either of you did anything else.

“Childish much,” Soap snorted. “I’d rather be an arsehole than a little brat.”

You’d never whipped your head up so fast. Blood vessels you’d hardly been aware of before were boiling and your heart beat was in your eyes, it raced and pulsed and had you dizzier than drinking a bottle of vodka. All you saw was red. Soap had taken every opportunity to tease and push you and finally you’d decided he’d taken it far enough. In all your drunk wisdom you felt like this was your time to make a stand and show that you wouldn’t put up with it anymore.

With what you felt was a rallying warcry, you pushed Soap back and sent him stumbling, almost knocking him into the jagged bushes behind him, their leaves stripped bare from the winter weather. He’d huffed out a hiss, hand lanced through by one of the thorny branches.

“What the fuck!” He roared, coming to his feet again.

Suddenly it felt like all that anger really had boiled your blood, and it had unfortunately nullified all the alcohol out of it. The full withering cold of the night soaked through your skin and suddenly you were standing there sober, wide eyed and stupid, wondering what you’d do next. What could you do?

Fight or flight, a sharp edged voice whispered, echoing through your mind. The man had recovered quickly, and he was soon to make the decision for you. So, you went with what you felt was best for you and your kneecaps.

Flight it is.

You ran. Not even the road runner could have competed with you that night. It felt like Hermes had imbued you with power, you sprinted so fast that you practically flew back to the base on winged feet. Your lungs burned and your throat felt like you had accepted a smoke from Soap, but even so, with all pain you came to acknowledge once you were safely locked in your room, you remained unharmed.

And when the cramps in your thighs tangled through your legs and the full craziness of the previous events crashed down on you, you similarly fell to your bed; huffing out a massive Breath. This was one to deal with in the morning, you thought.

-🧼-

If only you could be so lucky.

You’d recalled thinking you could sleep everything off with a soundless laugh, and shook your head. It wasn’t happening. Instead, you were left staring at the demonic red numbers of your alarm clock with narrowed eyes. Apparently time had a way of slowing down when it came to the sobering mind. It could only happen to you, of course.

You’d woken up an hour later with a pounding headache and dry tongue, and even after taking painkillers and a decent glug of water you still remained awake and tortured. The scene of MacTavish falling to the bushes and shouting bloody murder at you was replaying in your mind like an old timey movie, static ringing through your ears as your anxiety tore through you.

You’d accused him of being unprofessional, and there you’d gone and shoved him like a toddler in a tantrum. Right after he’d called you childish as well!

You felt sick with worry, wondering if he’d tell Price, wondering what his revenge would be. You sighed and took a deep breath, realising you weren’t going to get any sleep. There were only two options once again, either you sat and suffered till you found out or you could face up to him and go apologise before he could dream up some particularly brutal revenge. Besides, you reasoned to yourself, even if you hated him and even despite the things he said - pushing him was a bit out of order.

Everything in you wanted to go for option A, but your need to get things out the way won over and soon enough you were in your sweats and baggy pyjama top, waddling down the halls.

The walk to Soap’s room felt like a long one, like a trek through the arctic. Every painful passing minute had you digging your fingers into your thighs and thinking better of your choice. You’d turned around to go back to your room three times before you reached his door. Even then, you took a minute before you knocked softly, fists coming down on the wood like soft paws.

The silence rang out for a moment, and you’d closed your eyes for a second, praying he was asleep. Though, as your unluckiness would have it, you’d heard someone rustling about not a second later. There were a few grumblings and noises more, before the door flung open and there stood a particularly surly John MacTavish, standing in his boxers and t-shirt with a face like thunder.

“You!” He groaned, running a hand through his splayed out mohawk. “The fuck do you want?”

“I uh…Came to apologise for earlier,” you mumbled awkwardly, mirroring him and swiping a hand over your head. “Sorry.”

You watched as he craned his neck and attended to a knot below his skin, hand harshly palming it while he thought over your words. Then, in your desperation not to meet his eyes, you found yourself casting your gaze downward and realised far too late you’d made your second mistake of the night.

His thighs had completely transfixed you, they were impressive laid bare like that, and before you were able to stop yourself you tilted your head and visibly looked from his thick muscles and further to the material of his boxers - coming to land on the half hard bulge that stood out from them. It wasn’t full-on morning wood, but there was something that’d been stirring there and now your eyes were glued on the sizable tent; and you couldn’t find it in yourself to look away.

Fuck, just how big was he?

You heard a familiar snort and looked up guiltily, briefly wondering if you’d be running away from Soap for a second time that night.

“Let’s review the situation here. You wake me up at three AM with your pathetic little knock and get me out of my bed, for what’s probably the worst apology I’ve heard in my entire fuckin’ life, and now you’re staring at my cock like a shaking bitch in heat. Are you for real right now? Do we need to drug test you?” he said incredulously.

“I am not staring at your cock like a bitch in heat,” you hissed, looking around you like a caught criminal. “And keep your fucking voice down!”

“What? You don’t want anyone finding out that you’re a pervert?” He laughed, leaning against his doorframe.

“Do you want pushed again?” you growled.

“Do you want to push me again?” He cackled. “Any excuse to get your hands on me, eh?”

“No! It’s not like that. I wouldn’t- I didn’t-” you fumbled, not allowed to continue.

“Didn’t what? Didn’t want to just come out and tell me the reason you like fighting so much is because you can’t get me into bed?”

You dropped your mouth open, gawping at his leering tone. You absolutely did not like fighting with him in order to do…that. Whatever that would be like. You’d resolved that he’d be an awful lover, a selfish one, he was so shitty to you he’d probably just take what he wanted and-

And now you were thinking about sex with Soap! Yuck!

Not that the thought didn’t stir something in you. (you’d tried to plead with yourself that it was burning - throbbing - hatred)

“Your lack of an answer tells me that’s a yes,” he chuckled, going to close the door.

A phantom force willed your hand forward, and soap soon stopped trying to close it when he realised you were going to stay resolute. Your hand was shaking with effort. You couldn’t let him win this encounter, you’d thought to yourself, you couldn’t let him have the last word. You couldn’t bear to picture him lying in his bed with his stupid semi, grinning to the thought of you sitting and stewing the rest of the night.

It wasn’t happening.

“It’s not a yes. And you wouldn’t even fuck me properly even if did allow you within an inch of me,” you said proudly, hoping to turn and be on your victorious way.

No such luck.

Soap grabbed your arm before you could go and pulled you into his orbit, having you practically feel the heat radiating from his chest. His brows were pulled tight and his eyes were darker than onyx, staring at you like a dragon before it breathed fire. You gasped and blinked up at him, suddenly realising you’d bitten more than you could chew.

“I’m a lot more than an inch,” he growled.

“Doesn’t mean you know how to use it,” you fired back, not knowing why you’d continued to push him.

Perhaps all the blood that was flowing from your brain and down below might’ve had something to do with it. Maybe it was the iron grip that had your arm feeling like it might crack in his unrelenting calloused hand.

“You’re bein’ a daft cunt.”

“So are you.”

“Do you actually want fucked?” he asked, a sly smirk escaping through his lips.

“Doesn’t everyone,” you replied, trying to deflect his question.

He bit his lip and looked away, peering down into the hallway and looking for any stragglers. No one was there, just the shadows, the frigid air and empty silence.

“If you want me to show you just how well I can use this,” he said, palming his crotch with his free hand, “then tell me right now.”

It felt like all the oxygen in the hallway had filtered out and your brain was floating lifelessly in your head. It had to have been for you to have answered the way you did.

“You can show me, but try not to cry when it doesn’t work,” you sniggered.

Soap nodded his head, releasing your arm at the same time. He looked the same way that he did whenever you challenged him in training, the same way he looked when he usually found a way to throw your ass on the floor. In short, you knew you were fucked from that gritted jaw alone, but you tried not to let it show.

“Get on the bed and sit pretty, Frenchie. Be a good dog,” he goaded, opening the door up wide for you to enter.

This was it, no going back. You had the option to turn and run, but your pride wouldn’t let you do it. You’d talked a big game by that point and you couldn’t turn around then. It was the same thing that got you into the 141 that had gotten you into Soap’s room - your stupid pride. (Although maybe it was the way he was looking at you so intensely as well). You gritted your teeth and did what you were told, trying not to let the little voice in your head that said you actually really wanted him to overpower you.

Not likely.

No, you’d do what he said, but only so it would speed the process up - you reasoned. Not because when he’d made the order his voice had rumbled deep with authority and the purr had run down your spine like a bolt of lightning. No, that wasn’t it at all, you thought as you’d sank down into his messy sheets and lay your hands back behind you. That wasn’t it at all.

“Look at that, wee puppy follows commands afterall,” he said condescendingly.

He shut the door with a harsh click and locked it, your last chance of leaving gone. You couldn’t bear the embarrassment of running out at that point. You were following through with it. Only because you’d said you would, not because of the tingles of anticipation running rampant round your body and not because Soap sounded hot as fuck when he was being demanding.

There was a force pushing you back, something unseen that made you lie back on the bed as Soap took torturously slow steps toward you. It felt like you were under a spell, unthinkingly sinking into the sheets and breathing in more of his scent, catching notes of him that you’d never thought much of before, gunpowder musk filling your senses.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked, finally coming to a stop as he hovered over you, tracing his thumb over your cheek.

“Y-yes,” you said, voice wavering as you felt his warm breath on your neck.

“Then beg for it,” he smiled, cupping your jaw. “Say please Johnny, please fuck me.”

“Get fucked,” you sneered, shoving his arm away.

“Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Not like that! I’m not begging you.”

“Oh yeah? You sure about that?” he asked, restoring his hand to your head and weaving his fingers roughly through your hair. “I think you will be.”

You were about to come out with another quip but it died before you could, suffocated as he planted his lips on yours and stole your breath.

He wasn’t like other guys you’d kissed, he wasn’t sloppy and his tongue didn’t flop around like a dying fish. He was sure of himself, he kissed you roughly, but not forcefully. A notion that maybe he knew what he was talking about before entered your mind, but only fleetingly as you found yourself fading out.

All it took was Johnny’s hands on your body and you were lost to static and floating clouds. One hand roamed your thighs while the other trailed up your neck ever so gently. It had you stretching to give him access and unknowingly you’d given him exactly what he wanted, because now he was refocused on your sensitive flesh, kissing your neck and sending it tingling like hot flames were licking up it.

“Mmm, poor little puppy. No wonder you’re wound so tight, you’re desperate for it,” he groaned.

“Mm?” you moaned, lost to bliss and confusion.

“There’s a wet patch soakin’ through your sweats,” he teased.

You froze, horrified that he’d come across it and tried to look for yourself, but you were stopped, stuck to the bed as his hard chest prevented you from getting up. Unstoppable force had finally met an immovable object, and now you were realising just how stoppable you actually were in the face of Johnny. Just how pliant you could be under his hands, the right hands.

“Don’t do anythin’ that I don’t tell you to do,” he ordered, whispering into your ear. “Just do what I say.”

You moaned pathetically, whining like the shivering dog he said you were, before you could fully stop yourself. He caught it - and your wide eyed expression.

“Except that,” he amended, laughing harshly. “You’ll do a lot of that.”

“And if I don’t listen to what you say?” you asked, voice shaking as you tried to reclaim some kind of authority over yourself (failing pathetically).

He yanked you up and had you sitting up facing him, manipulating your body the exact way he wanted; before he stared you in the eye and all but growled. His jaw tensed and untensed, and the heat of him burned into you like an explosion.

“What do you do with a dog that misbehaves?”

“You give it what it wants before it gets bored?” you tried.

“You grab it by the collar and set it right,” he growled, taking your neck in his big hand and forcing a commanding, but not choking, grip on it.

You whined, and before you could process it he was manhandling you again, this time throwing you face down on the bed and trapping you under his solid frame. His legs pinned you down and his arms were around your sides, locking you onto your hands and knees. Little whimpers were set loose into the room and soon Johnny had your sweats down to your feet and was yanking your top off of you, leaving you bare and shivering below him.

“Mm, you’re a pretty thing,” he growled appreciatively. “So soft too.”

He ran a hand down your back, doubling the frisson that lit your body like a bonfire and kissed all over your flesh while he rutted slowly against you. His hardening cock was knocking into your ass with deliberate harshness, and just the sensation of him through the material was enough to make you feel like you were going to implode. What you’d seen was only a fraction of what was rubbing against you then. You were sure of it now.

“Johnny,” you whimpered, humping the air and searching for more sensation.

“Yes, puppy?” he asked softly, planting another kiss on your back. “Want somethin’?”

“I- I,” your face burned with humiliation, you couldn’t believe you were giving into him.

“C’mon, just ask,” he said, growling your name - your actual name - into your ear like the devil himself. “Give into me.”

“Johnny, please fuck me,” you pleaded, shoulders sagging with defeat as you stared into the sheets with embarrassment. “Want you inside me. Please…”

“That all you got?” he asked simply, taking his hands from your body and shaking the bed as he fumbled with something behind you.

You groaned out and stayed in position for a second, trying to muster up the nerve, or break yourself down enough rather, so that you could find the right words. You licked your lips and finally, with a shaking breath, looked around your shoulder and met Johnny’s eyes, blinking your lashes like you were a professional.

“Want you to fuck me hard, Johnny. Want you to make me cum,” you said breathily, feeling your heart beating like a war drum. “Fuck me…Please.”

“Mmm, that’s my good puppy,” he purred, opening the bottle of lube in his hands with a click. “Gonna show you exactly what you get when you come to my door telling me I don’t know how to use my cock. Gonna ruin you for everyone else and have you screamin’ my name.”

You practically panted at that, wobbling on your hands and knees for a moment until he pushed your head down into the bed and kept it there, fastening his hand into your hair. The cold sensation of lube hit your flesh, dripping down your ass and sending your heart into overdrive.

This was it.

“Just lie there and take it…just like that…”

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