#he helped john raise his kids and he's going to make sure they know it

[incesthemes]

azazel 100% believed he was in a coparenting situationship with john winchester

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids (pt.2)

[<- part 1]

"Oh, yeah," John jerks his head up like he just remembered the fact people are supposed to have names at all. He gestures to the kids, pointing to each of them as he introduces, "Daniel, Daniel, and Danielle."

This time, all three kids flip him off simultaneously. Bruce clears his throat, trying to figure out if Constantine is messing with him and, if so, in which parts. Since, so far, everything the man has said sounds like a poor attempt at pulling his leg.

"I don't think they like those," he cautiously says, and the kids whip their heads at him, nodding furiously. Bruce can't help but be just a little enamored with the way they behave.

"Of, sod off, at this point I don't care what they like," John straightens up with a dismissive, albeit weak, wave of his hands, and rubs his face, "They are menaces. Sometimes by accident, but mostly on purpose. Their grandfather thought it would be easier to handle them if they were not teenagers, and while I agreed with his reasoning at the time, I-" he glances at the kids, who all have displeased grimaces of various levels on their faces, "I have been made to reconsider. I swear that ancient bitch is laughing his ass off wherever he is now."

The kids suddenly grin. They are not very friendly, nor polite smiles - if anything, they look a bit nightmarish. An old grandfather's clock in his study makes a very loud ticking noise.

"See?" John whips his head to look at said clock, the expression on his face bordering on insane. His eye twitches.

If Bruce doesn't do anything now, he might become one of the very few people who managed to witness John Constantine, the Laughing Magician, have a meltdown. So he sighs and decides to solve the problems one at a time.

Which means that no matter how alarmed or suspicious he is, his first move would not be to interrogate either the man or the kids.

"You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, I trust you can find it on your own," he tells John, almost softly, as he catches the girl from slipping away from his lap, "Is there anything I need to know about children before you fall unconscious?"

John slumps with relief, so obviously that Bruce almost smiles. Hardships of raising - or, watching, for that matter - kids, he understands.

"Yes," he breathes out with an air of exhilaration and turns to the kids again, pointing to the middle child, "Danny is the original. He is from this dimension and timeline, that is. Dan," he turns his finger to the older boy, "is in the wrong timeline, he's Danny's future evil self redeemed into older bratty brother. Dani," he switches to the girl, "is Danny's clone, made by his arch-nemesis of a godfather. If she starts melting at any point, wake me up immediately. If any of them start floating, sprouting tentacles, speaking to walls in static, or glowing, don't."

Bruce looks down to the kids. So, definitely metas, that would explain the government trying to get them... Or, no, it wouldn't because he is fairly certain no government is going to blatantly ignore the Meta Protection Acts.

"Don't let them raise the dead, and if you give them food, make sure it doesn't have a face. If you find more than three of them, it means one of them has duplicated, don't worry, they will absorb it back later. Absolutely don't let them touch any guns," Constantine is backing down to the door as he speaks, his gaze flickering from the kids to Bruce and back every second. Like he is leaving a ticking bomb in Bruce's lap, and not three children. "Danny is, comparatively, the most responsible one, the other two are up for any dubious trouble they can get to at any moment. Oh, and their memories are wonky because of de-aging, they remember some things but not others, so if they say something particularly disturbing, it's most likely some random piece of knowledge they managed to keep."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. He did get the part about the kids being, well, abnormal in the matters of their origins, but the disjointed set of rules and advices doesn't help as much as Constantine probably thinks it does.

"Allergies, preferences, ages they were before?" He tries to get at least some more info down before John disappears through the door. Actually, maybe he should send someone to handcuff the man to the bed lest he disappears completely.

"None, but don't let them eat cutlery. Danny likes space, Dani has a thing for exploring, and Dan likes violence." The older kid stirs in Bruce's lap and says something in the direction of Constantine. No sound comes out, but the man seems to get what he's trying to say anyway, "Okay, yes, that was rude of me, sorry. Dan likes... exercise," he ends up with, and that placate the boy enough to slump down and cross his arms. John sighs, "They were seventeen, fourteen, and twenty respectively. Now," he snaps his fingers, and suddenly Bruce can hear the girl - Dani - humming a tune under her breath. So, he lifted the silence spell, it seems.

"Good fucking luck," John wishes to Bruce, earnestly, and all but vanishes away.

Bruce sighs and looks down to the kids.

"Are you hungry?" He tries, and all eyes are on him at once, attentive and unblinking.

"Fruitloops," Danny says, and while Bruce is positive that's the name for a cereal, he gets a feeling that's not what the kid meant.

[adverbally]

Take Me Where My Future’s Lyin’

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Future” | wc: 731 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: job rejection, hurt/comfort, heavy author projection | title from “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)” by John Parr

———

Steve hangs up the phone in a daze. Muscle memory takes over to lay the receiver back in its cradle. His gaze catches on the worn plastic, the kinks disrupting the cord’s neat coil.

“Hey, was that them? What’d they say?” Eddie sticks his head into the kitchen, a smile stretching his mouth wide with excitement.

The exact details of the conversation are already falling out of Steve’s memory, like water through a sieve. Are they even important, as long as the message was clear? “I didn’t get it,” Steve croaks.

Eddie freezes in the doorway. “What?”

He doesn’t think he can get any more words out, not with his throat squeezing like this, but he has to try. Eddie’s looking at him with so much worry, reaching out to comfort Steve without even knowing what happened, and it’s making Steve’s vision swim with tears. “I didn’t get the job. They’re going with someone else.”

“What the hell?!” Eddie protests. “You’ve been teaching there longer than anyone else who applied. You’re practically already the acting department head!”

“I know.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. They’ve been saying that all week, convincing themselves that Steve was the best candidate and he was sure to get the promotion. He had even believed it, after his last interview had gone so well. “I, um. They wanted someone with more leadership experience.”

Eddie’s growl of frustration isn’t directed at him, the logical side of Steve’s brain knows, but it still feels like it is. Probably because Steve is so frustrated with himself. His principal had personally encouraged him to throw his hat in the ring, telling him how proud he was of Steve for taking on extra responsibilities for the department and staying on top of everything despite the chaos of testing season. Apparently, that hadn’t been enough.

“You’re the best teacher in that whole damn school, they’re idiots if they think Linda Smith is going to do a better job than you,” Eddie is ranting indignantly.

Steve barely hears him. He can’t stop replaying the phone call in his mind, how Principal Lane had wanted to tell Steve about his rejection personally, before he could hear it through the grapevine. How he had promised Steve that he would find another way to help him advance, send him to training or some other bullshit professional development to put on his resume. How impressed the whole interview committee had been with his answers and his performance.

Just not impressed enough.

The disappointment sits like a rock in Steve’s gut. He‘ll have to go back to work on Monday, where every other second grade teacher will know that he applied and wasn’t good enough, and he’ll smile and shake Linda’s hand and congratulate her on getting the job he wanted. Hell, he’ll probably even have to help train her.

“Stevie?”

Eddie is blurry when Steve looks up at him, but he can make out enough to see his outstretched arms, waiting to pull Steve into his embrace. When Steve’s face crumples, Eddie is already hugging him close, kissing his temple.

“I know it’s just a job but I really wanted it,” Steve tells Eddie’s collarbone. His shirt smells so good, and he doesn’t want to move away to talk or breathe or let Eddie see him cry.

“I know, baby,” Eddie agrees. He does know; he’s been there for all the excited planning, helping Steve brainstorm ideas for how to spend his impending pay raise, looking at houses for sale and thinking about home improvement projects and creating an itinerary for a trip to visit Robin.

Steve shouldn’t have gotten so invested, no matter how optimistic he’d been about his chances. He had seen their future, with a big house full of kids and a job he was really good at and Eddie, loving him and believing in him, and he’d been ready for it. Now that door has closed and it hurts all the more since he’d gotten his hopes up.

“There will be other jobs,” Eddie murmurs to him. “We’ll get there eventually.”

“Yeah,” Steve sniffs against Eddie’s chest.

“In the meantime, we can have ice cream for dinner and talk shit about Linda.”

Steve’s laugh is wet but sincere. Whatever their future holds, he thinks he can handle it as long as Eddie is still there to figure it out with him.

[penelopepine]

Elephant in the Room Pt. 3

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: John and you hooked up after a night at the bar. You two after that never saw each other again. At least until 12 years later when Price discovers that 9 months after your time together you had given birth to not one baby, but two. Word Count: 1592 Content: angst

Price honestly isn't sure what the best thing to do in this situation is, but he decides to softly knock, almost a tap, against the door once more before calling out your name, "I know I'm the last person you want to see right now, but I need to talk to you." 

 It goes quiet on the other side of the door, and for a moment John thinks that you, fairly so, left him standing there alone talking to himself. That is of course before the door is swinging open revealing you once more. Your eyes are bloodshot and cheeks are stained with tears. He also sees what once was confusion on your face is now replaced with anger. 

You take a step towards him with one arm raised. It's obvious that you're going to hit him, and while Price could very easily block it he lets you strike him. 

The sound of flesh connecting rings out through the quiet as you slap him across the face. Your breath is heavy as you growl out, "Did you do it? Did you take him?" 

He takes the hit in stride; you're hardly the strongest person to ever smack him before. Taking in your words though Price does feel a slight spark of anger in his chest at the idea of him doing this purposely. Although he supposes it does look very suspicious that he would show up right after Andrew was taken from your point of view. 

The labs luckily don't make any moves, simply watch the interaction in silence. "I promise you I didn't do this. You can think whatever you want about me, but I wasn't the one who took him. I have an idea who did though." He stares into your eyes, trying to show you that he isn't lying. "If we could all go inside I promise to explain what I can." 

"All?" It was at that moment that you finally seemed to take notice of the three other men behind him. 

John steps to the side letting you have a better view of them, "these are my men; they're here to help."

Looking at you though you don't seem to take in any of his words. You shake your head slightly before turning, and walking back inside; leaving the door open for them to presumably follow you.  

Silently you make your way into the dining room, and take a seat at the table. "Sit, please." Your voice is firm, but clearly exhausted. He sits down on the opposite side of you while Soap and Gaz sit on both sides of him. Ghost on the other hand stands in the corner next to the doorway. “Explain.” 

"My team was sent a video of Andrew." John for once found himself lacking confidence, and unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell you the truth, but in your current state being blunt may only hurt you further right now. "They made demands of me and my team for his safe return. A highly skilled team is looking into the video as we speak, and I will be going to get him back as soon as I can."

"Why did they take him to threaten you? How did they connect him to you?" You ask after a few seconds, "He has never even met you before." Your voice cracks as you try to speak. 

"Nothing is confirmed as of now, but I have an idea of how they found him. We'll keep you updated when new information comes to light. I assume after they found him they thought I had simply hid my family from any paper trail that led to me."

"So everything that's been happening is all because of some misunderstanding!" Your anger shining through with every word, "What now? I'm supposed to just sit here and wait; what's to stop them taking Amelia as well if you don't do as they say?"

“That’s actually why we’re here.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

Ghost is surprisingly the one to speak up, “It means you and the kid are being relocated. Time to start packing the essentials.” 

"Lieutenant!" Price quickly repremans, "What he meant to say is that it is no longer safe for you two to stay here while this situation is still active. We'd like to move you both onto base; a house is already set up for you." 

“You’re serious?,” You asked, voice rising in disbelief, “We have to leave our home?”

“It’s for your safety; I wouldn’t be asking this of you in any other situation.” 

“I just can’t believe that you-.” You begin to say before being cut off by a young feminine voice.

“Mom?” 

Price quickly looks toward the voice, and there standing in the doorway is Amelia. 

She looks quickly around the room, taking in and analyzing all the strangers in her home. Pausing once her focus is on him. He knows Amelia is a smart kid, and that with him in front of her there is no way she doesn't know who he is. It's obvious when it finally clicks in her head. Her shoulder tense and her eyes look sharper. "What's going on?" 

Before she has even finished asking her question you are standing and rushing towards her. You bring Amelia into your arms, and begin to guide her out of the dining room. "Let's go talk in your room." You say before addressing him once more, "I'll be down in a bit. Uh feel free to get yourself something from the kitchen. I'll be down to discuss this more shortly." 

No one says a thing as they watch you make your way around the corner and out of sight. The silence only lasts for a second though before Gaz is speaking up, "Cap, you solid?" 

Price takes a defeated breath, “How much have I messed this whole thing up?”

“I’d say this conversation is actually going quite well. She could have refused to listen to us entirely.” 

Soap is next to speak, “If anything I’d say Lt. is the one to make her hostile against him.” 

“She wasn’t going to like being told she and her daughter have to leave their home. That anger of being told that was directed at me rather than the captain. I’d say I’m the only one who helped him during that conversation.” Ghost states back.

Before Soap can say anything further Price interrupts them, “Enough you two; you’re not about to start arguing right now.” 

The room lulls back into silence before Gaz asks him, “What are we gonna do if she doesn’t agree to come with us?” 

"We'll stay here then until she does," John wasn't sure what else could be said to convince you to come with them, but he would stay here with you both until he did, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that." 

Before more can be said you're striding back into the room once again; coming to stand across from him. "You're going to get Andrew back?"

"I won't rest until I do." 

You give him a final nod and say, "We'll go with you; to the base. I'll go start packing I suppose then." With that you're walking out leaving Price stunned with how almost simple that exchange was.

The rest of their time spent there was filled with helping them pack their bags into the cars. Soap and Gaz talked the most to you both at this point; not wanting you two to be scared of them. Hoping to be a friendly face in a new location.

John wanted to try and talk to Amelia, but this situation was already overstimulating and he didn't want to add even more on top of that. 

Finally everything was packed and ready to go. Laswell had texted him as well letting him know that the house was now fully set up for his girls.

His girls. Isn't that a nice thought.

It was at this moment though where John took a pause. You two had gotten into one of the vehicles and as much as he wanted to be with you both he wasn't sure if that would be the best right now. Being away right now might be better. Without much more thought to that he climbs into the other car; Ghost getting into the passenger's seat. He watches as Soap and Gaz climb into the car you're in before pulling out down the road back to base. 

It's a quiet drive; neither one feeling particularly talkative. After so long though Ghost surprisingly does speak up. "You should have got in the car with them." 

"Thank you for your input lieutenant," irritation was clear in his voice.

"You need to talk to them."

"That's ironic coming from you; someone who never wants to talk." 

"I'm not the one who discovered they have a family this morning." 

John tightens his grip on the steering wheel, "I think it's best to not overwhelm them right now." 

Ignoring what he just said, Ghost continues, "Time heals all wounds they say. The sooner you have an honest talk with them the sooner the healing can begin." 

"Time is not always enough; sometimes you have to amputate to heal." He retorts despite knowing that Ghost is only trying to help him. "If that means by the end of this they need to leave me to heal then so be it." 

Ghost gives him a hard stare before fixing his gaze onto the road ahead. The rest of the drive is silent.

Taglist: @zarsghost @lulurubberduckie @mafer383 @7thsthings @sazifer

[hihomeghere]

Burning Love | John Marston/Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : Set in the epilogue of RDR2. You stumble upon John in Blackwater after being alone for years. When he invites you to visit Beecher's Hope, will you be able to fight feelings that have been building ever since you were kids? (No Abigail and Jack, love them but you aren't in this episode) Warnings : Smut, cursing, unprotected piv, hickeys, oral reader receiving, just dirty idiots in love, reader has bio female parts

“John?” The word fell out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. Here you were in Blackwater, a good six or seven years since that no good river boat business, and there in front of you was John Marston.

At least, he looked like him. His head snapped towards you, his dark eyes meeting yours. You swore your heart stopped, you raised your hand to cover it before sliding off of your horse.

“Y/n?” He sounded breathless, a small smile growing on his face as you started running towards him. You threw yourself into his arms, he laughed, spinning you around. “Holy shit it is you.” He said as your feet touched the ground. You looked up at his scarred face, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“John Marston.” You chuckled, unable to stop the grin spreading on your face. Tears welled up in your eyes which you quickly wiped away. God it had been years, ever since… well it had been years.

“It’s good to see you.” You chuckled lightly, punching his shoulder.

“It sure is good to see you, too. What the hell are you doing in Blackwater?”

“Well I don’t rightly know.” You shrugged, shaking your head. “I go wherever the wind takes me and it took me to Blackwater.” You said looking around the dusty street. He grinned, shaking his head slightly. His hair was shorter than before, light stubble covering his face. 

“Well if you don’t have anywhere else to go, would you like to come see Beecher's Hope?” He said with a nervous smile on his face.

“What’s Beecher's Hope?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“It's my place, somehow.” He laughed looking down at his boots.

“John Marston, homeowner?” You laughed, “Course I do!” He looked up at you, your stomach filling with butterflies as that boyish grin crossed his features.

“Well come on then!” He said, walking over to his horse. You followed him out of town, riding close behind him. It didn’t take you very long to make it to Beecher’s Hope. Well he was certainly hopeful to call it his home. It was barely a shack on a good piece of land, that was the best way you could describe it.

“Now I know it don’t look like much now.” He said, hitching up his horse.

“You’d be right.” You teased doing the same. 

“Now who’s there?” A voice called from inside the shack. Was that?

“It’s just me, Uncle.” John called, rolling his eyes. Uncle?

“Uncle! You get your lazy ass out of that shack right now!” You called jogging over to the ‘front door’

“Y/n? Well I’ll be!” Uncle said getting up from inside. You pulled him into a hug, glad to see the old man still kicking.

“Now this is how I should be treated, John, with respect.” Uncle said as he patted your back.

“She just called you a lazy ass!” John groaned.

“What are you doing hanging around this ruffian?” You teased, pulling away from Uncle’s embrace.

“Begged for my help, how could I say no?” Uncle explained, placing a hand over his heart.

“Bullshit! I never asked you for nothing old man.” John scoffed, shaking his head.

“Alright alright, I’m starving from my ride. You got anything I could cook up for us, John?” You asked, setting your hands on your hips. 

“Barely, we could probably hunt down a rabbit or two for dinner.” He sighed.

“Lead the way, cowboy.” You said walking back over to your horse. 

A rabbit or two turned into four between the two of you. Everything turned into a competition, it had been like that since you were kids. Let’s say Uncle wasn’t upset by your catch. You cooked up a nice stew for the boys before settling down for the night by the campfire. It all seemed too good to be true, being back with Uncle and John. You couldn’t lie that your heart skipped a beat every time you caught his eye. The alcohol definitely wasn’t helping with that. 

“It seems like yesterday we were sitting around a campfire just like this, listening to Javier play the guitar. Or having Hosea give us reading lessons.” You sighed bringing your bottle to your lips.

“Yeah, you were such a tattle tale.” John teased, the glow of the fire illuminating his face, casting dark shadows along his scars.

“Was not!” You scoffed, knocking back your drink. He laughed, loud and hearty. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, a blush settling on your cheeks. 

“Yes you were! Would always get me in trouble when I’d sneak off to the horses.” He shook his head a smile tugging on his lips

“That’s because Boadicea was gonna kick your head in one day, I was only looking out for you.” You snorted, nodding to yourself.

“She loved me.”

��You kidding?” You barked out a laugh, “She used to nip at you so hard you’d have teeth marks for weeks!”

“Well not everyone can be princess Van Der Linde.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“You were Dutch’s favorite long before I came around Martson.” You quipped, the alcohol easing the pain of past gang members. You both sat in silence, the crackle from the fire and far off yips from the coyotes the only sound, along with Uncle’s snoring.  

“Shit,” John sighed, “we got into a heap of trouble back then.” He grinned, bringing his bottle to his lips.

“Still do.” You added, leaning over to bump his elbow with your own.

“Still do.” He repeated, a small smile on his face. He looked at you from under the brim of his hat. You felt your face heat up under his gaze, instead of the growing fire.

“Why’d you even buy this land in the first place?” You asked, breaking eye contact as you looked around your makeshift campsite. The shack behind John, if you could even call it that, almost falling apart as Uncle slept. He sighed, staring into the cracking embers.

“Felt like I had something to prove, I guess.” He shrugged, “I never was very smart. Never had anything to my name. I had you at one point and screwed that up too.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“John,” You started, your eyes flickering up from the fire. A blush settling on your cheeks. You two had been sweet on each other before, honestly you had never stopped being sweet on him. But he wasn’t ready for a real relationship, and you deserved better than being drug along for nothing. 

“No,” He stopped you, his hand held up between you two. “You were the only thing that was good in my life and I pissed it away.”

“We were young, and for some reason I’m still following your sorry ass around.” You said, shaking your head. Refusing to meet his eye, you leaned forward with your hands resting on your knees. “You ain’t got nothing to prove, you’re a good man John Marston.” You said sparing him a glance. A soft smile graced his lips before he shook his head.

“Guess you ain’t too bad either, y/n.”

“Well that was never in question.” You said bringing the bottle back up to your lips, John let out a low chuckle. You both stared at the fire, it was easier than looking at each other.

“Will you-“ John started, his lip in between his teeth, “Will you stay with us here?” You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. You looked up, pretending to mull it over.

“Until a better offer comes along.” You shrugged, laughing as John shoved your shoulder.

“Don’t have to be such a smartass.”

“Oh I think I do.” You grinned, raising your bottle. He rolled his eyes, a playful grin on his face. “You’re smiling.”

“Am not.” He said turning away. You shook your head, staring down at the crackling fire. 

“What did you do for all those years, were you alone?” You asked, afraid of his answer. Although you couldn’t blame him if he hadn’t been, many nights you wished you had someone warming your bed, although it was always John you were dreaming of.

“Bounced around, ranch to ranch, just-“ he let out a long sigh, “Just trying to stay out of trouble.” You nodded looking up at him.“What about you?” He said, crossing his arms.

“Nothing really, hung low for a while, a year or two.” You shook your head, you honestly couldn’t remember what it was like in the early days. You had never been on your own before then, not that you could remember at least. “It was hard for a long time, but I had good teachers.” You smiled softly, feeling more melancholy the more you spoke. “Spent some of my time trying to make an honest living but you know how that goes.” You chuckled while taking a long drink from your bottle. 

“You can say that again.” John chuckled, “Did you have any fellas in that time?” He asked, shifting his eyes from the fire to yours. You tried hiding your smirk.

“Nah, none that piqued my interest.” You smirked, unable to keep it at bay.

“Well that’s good to hear.” He chuckled to himself, taking a drink.

“And why is that?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side. Could he feel the same about you? He went silent, lowering his head so his face was covered by the brim of his hat. He let out a dry cough, clearing his throat.

“Oh, well- I just mean-“ He sighed, you giggled softly looking up at him.

“John-“

“I’m a damn fool,” He chuckled, shaking his head, “I finally got you back and I’m too chicken shit to do anything about it.” He said, running a hand down his face. Your heart started to beat faster at his small confession. You set your bottle down, walking over to him. His wide eyes met yours as you sat yourself down on his lap.

“Good thing I ain’t.” You said taking his hat off and setting it to the side. You leaned forward, rubbing your nose against his. Your breaths intermingled as you looked into his eyes. He took the initiative, leaning forward and capturing your lips with his own. His arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer, your clothed core rubbing against his crotch. You felt a moan rumble in his chest before it slipped out his lips. You smirked, your tongue swiping across his lower lip. He eagerly opened his mouth, his own tongue entering your mouth. He tasted like smoke and whisky, an intoxicating combination.

“Darlin, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” He mumbled against your lips, before moving to kiss along your jaw. 

“I know John, god I’ve wanted you for so long.” You breathed, running your fingers through his dark hair. He latched onto your throat, sucking a spot that would definitely bruise. You let out a soft moan, gripping his hair tightly. He thrust his hips upwards against your clothed cunt, causing a higher pitched moan to leave your mouth.

“Shh, don’t want Uncle to hear us.” John said softly, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt, he rubbed his thumb against your stomach. His movements shot straight to your core. You bit your lip to stop a whine, as you rubbed yourself against his growing bulge.

“Fucking take me and stop teasing.” You growled pulling him up to kiss him. He smirked against your lips, slipping his hands under your ass as he lifted you up in his arms. He walked you over to his tent, setting you down on his bedroll. You made quick work with the buttons on your shirt, working them through the eyelets. You pulled your arms out of your shirt, removing your cotton undershirt. You sneaked a peek at John, who was pushing his pants down. Your eyes raked over his body, his union suit leaving little to the imagination. You pulled off your pants, left only in your bloomers. 

“Fuck darlin.” John whispered his hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you closer to him. He dipped his head to your breast, taking your nipple in his mouth. His other hand kneaded your breast. 

You laid your head back on the bedroll, a soft gasp exiting your mouth. He sat up, sinking his fingers into your bloomers before pulling them down. His finger dipped into your wet folds.

“Mmm,” You moaned, biting down on your lip. He smirked again, pushing his index finger into your warm heat. He pumped it in and out, his eyes never leaving your face as you fought the urge to moan. His thumb rubbed against your clit, making small circles on your nub. He added his middle finger, curling it inside of you. Your eyes rolled back into your head and the coil inside you tightened. Your nails dug into his arm, as your pussy clenched around his fingers. That familiar wave of bliss washing over you.

“Yeah that's right sweetheart.” John cooed, still pumping his fingers in and out of you. 

“John-“ You breathed pulling him closer, he removed his fingers sucking them clean.

“Yeah sweetheart?” He said as he unbuttoned his union suit. Pulling his arms out, as he pushed it down his thighs. Your eyes raked over his body, scars from bullet wounds and cuts littered his body. Your mouth watered at the sight as your gaze followed the patch of hair from his chest down to his pelvis. 

“Fuck me.” You huffed, propping yourself up on your elbow as your legs fell open.

“Yes ma’am.” He smirked, taking his thick cock in his hand. Pumping it twice before nosing his dick to your opening. He pushed himself into you slowly, a groan working its way out of his chest as he hung his head. “God damn you’re tight.” He hissed, his hands gripping your hips with a vice like grip as he slowly pushed his hips forward. 

“John.” You whined, gripping his forearms as he seated himself in you fully. You had never been so full in your life, he was so deep you swore his tip was kissing your cervix.

“I know darlin-“ He rasped, slowly pulling his hips back before slamming back into you. Your breath knocked out of your chest as he picked up the pace.

“Ah- oh John!” You yelped before his hand covered your mouth. He moved your leg to sit on top of his hips and he leaned forward, resting his forearms next to your head.

“Feel good?” He grunted, squeezing his eyes close as he let out a hissed breath. 

“Fuck- feels so good.” You whispered, tears starting to well up in your eyes. His hips met yours with every thrust, the sound of slapping skin filling the small tent. He grabbed one of your thighs, lifting it up onto his shoulder. You swore you saw stars at the new position. It had been so long since anyone had had you like this, and John was playing your body like a fucking fiddle. Every thrust punched the air out of your lungs as somehow he went deeper. 

“Shit darlin-“ He huffed, his hot breath on your ear as he bent over you, “Squeezing me so good.” He groaned, nipping at your ear.

“Oh- John I-“ You cried, tears slipping down your cheeks. Your toes were curling as the pressure built inside your stomach. 

“You close honey? You gonna come?” He cooed, kissing your neck, one of his hands moved down your body to your already sensitive bud. He flicked it once, maybe twice before your orgasm came crashing down. You mewled, trying to stay quiet as John wiped away your tears.

“That’s it, that’s it.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he strained his neck up. “Where do you want it?” He said as he sat up, still rutting his cock in and out of you.

“Inside.” You breathed, wrapping your legs around his hips as you pulled him closer.

“Oh- darlin I-“ He let out a low moan as he spilled inside of you, his hips twitching as he pumped his cum inside your heat . You let out a small sigh, letting your body go limp under him. He cradled your head in his hand, kissing you softly as he pulled his cock out of you. He sighed against your lips before laying down beside you. Pulling a blanket over both of your bodies. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him.

“I’m not letting you go this time.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. 

“Good.” You said holding his arm against you, as you drifted off feeling his cum trickle down your thighs.

-

“Jesus what is that mark on your neck?” Uncle said his hand resting on his hip as you blushed from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“Nothing.” you said quickly, covering your neck with your hand.

“Good lord is that a hickey!” Uncle said recoiling at the sight, “Now who the hell would give you…” He trailed off his gaze shifting to John who was drinking his coffee. 

“What?” John said, lowering the mug, a smug smile plastered on his face.

“Disgusting.” Uncle cringed walking away from the both of you back to the shack. 

“Just had to mark me up, now didn’t you?” You asked, crossing your arms as you looked at John. He smirked shaking his head as he walked over to you 

“You’re mine, everyone should know it.” He shrugged, pulling you into a searing kiss. 

Maybe you could deal with a mark or two. 

[ghostbsuter]

Magicians way

A Zatara meets a Drake before the Young Justice-fication of Danny!

1/4 previous interactions

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The portal closes, and waddling in comes a teen in his PJ's, a space themed blanket thrown around his shoulders and hair dishevelled.

In all honesty, he looks like he'd just worked up and dragged himself here.

Probably what happened.

"Oh, so you get to call me at 4 am on a Friday night and when I do it it's suddenly a crime?" The teen scowls, glaring daggers at Constantine, who'd had told the big Bat he was going to call in reinforcement.

He didn't expect a child.

"Get over her shrimp," the man waves the teen over, throwing an arm around the blanked clad shoulders.

"Batsy, meet Danny. He's my kid."

Ah.

"Nice to meet ya," the kid yawns, literally dozing off on John's side. "'m gonna sleep."

At least the man seems somewhat regretting for pulling the kids from his impromptu nap?

"Sorry, kiddo, need some help here. Did Zee go hard on you during the day?"

Danny whines, but answers despite the disturbance. "Mom had to leave for a show, I didn't go along, ended up on an adventure that took a bit too much out of me."

John snorts, ruffling unruly black hair.

"One of the bat's birds will join us shortly. I needed a second opinion, minx helping?"

Interested, Danny peered up at his dad, raising a brow in question.

"There is a powerful entity currently free, I'm having difficulties identifying it." He explains. "Did anyone mess with Pandoras box? This feels like something not supposed to be on our side of existence."

Brows knitting together, he thinks. "No, I was the last and most recent one to have accidentally messed with her box." He admits. "But every monster has been contained. There shouldn't be one free, we would have noticed."

John hums, picking through his well used brown leather bag, grabbing a sack of ash.

"It doesn't feel like a demon, lest a fallen angel. It's unique in its own kind that I had to get you for help, it shares the same feeling as the curses inside of pandoras box."

Catching on, Danny stares. "You think one of her curses got away and formed a humanoid form, not much different from city spirits."

Nodding, golden glow follows the words the laughing magician speaks, answering his question with the usage of ash.

Danny looks away, knowing the spell already and meets the whites of a domino mask.

That's not batman.

Squinting, he recognises the vigilante.

That's Red Robin!

"Red Robin, right?" He asks, just to make sure.

Red Robin nods.

"Nice to meet you, heard some stuff, pretty cool in my opinion."

"What exactly did you hear."

"Stuff here and there." Is the vague answer, the bird only continued to watch him, slightly unnervingly.

"Well—"

"Kid! Got an answer!"

"Let's talk again, okay?"

He couldn't answer before danny left to go to constantine.

That was... weird.

"B, what just happened?"

Batman only shakes his head. Huh.

[lyrenminth]

JB9 request

They are divorced and have two children together, and he is jealous that she is leaving the kids at his house so she can go on a date. but the meeting was horrible, because the guy is not like Joe

This was a very specific and I had so much fun writing in. A little bit of angst at the end.

What we used to be

The decision for filing the divorce was consciously taken. It was done three years ago, while you went to a rough patch in your marriage. The decision wasn't easy, because you share two children together, and for them was equally hard to understand why mommy and daddy weren't together anymore.

One of the main reasons was after having children, you marriage went cold and dead. He was busy playing football and you were busy mothering a three years old and a nine months old. You didn't have the time to be a couple anymore.

Currently, you decided to start dating again after your friends prompted you to do so. It was difficult because you had to coordinate with Joe (now that you were co-parenting). And of course, was during the off-season because during his seasons you had the kids most of the time. On weekends you dropped the children with Robin so she would take them to the home game. It was a messy life, because you shared a lot of things as a result of the years together. Trying to get rid of Joe was impossible having children with his face and living in Cincinnati. So you made peace with that fact long ago. You got along for the children, he was kind and always asked for your opinion when included the family. And you were polite with him, but nothing else.

You send him a text. "Hey, I'm dropping the kids early this Friday. That's ok?"

Joey B: Yeah, that's ok. Are you busy on Friday?

You: Yeah, something came up. Your home or your parents'?

Joey B: My house. Everything alright?

You: everything alright

That was the last text. After that you waited earnestly for your date. You met John through friends, he seemed like a good guy. By looks, the completely opposite of Joe. John had one child already, and worked for a big company in New York but was living in Cincinnati two years now.

You thought it would be difficult if men knew who was your ex-husband because it had happened one time and it ruin the mood for everyone. Apparently, you completely fucked up or whatever. Well, John didn't know anything about football, he couldn't care less about the Superbowl and that was a pleasant surprise.

So on Friday, you drive Mackenzie and Julian to their dad's house. They were behaving well during all morning. And since it was off-season they could spent the weekend with Joe.

You parked the car, and for your surprise Joe was waiting for them outside.

"Dad!" yelled Julian, running towards Joe who was wearing pants and a hoodie. "Mom, can you help me with my backpack?" asked Mackenzie trying to open the door. You got out of the car, and help her. She made cookies for her dad, and was so happy to share.

You help her to carry the backpack until you were face to face with Joe, who was looking handsome as always.

"Daddy, I made cookies!"

"Daddy, can we play videogames?"

The children demanded attention equally, but Joe was still staring at you. Hard.

"Have I something on my face?" you asked, almost aggressively. You put some make up on and dressed in a nice dress for the occasion.

"No, you fine" he cleared his throat "Not your usual fit"

"Mommy is going on a date" Julian shout, excited. Joe's eyebrows raised, you laughed nervous.

"Well, kids behave well. Enjoy the cookies" you said trying not to look at your ex-husband. "Is that true?" he asked, he sounded kinda jealous. Maybe you were overthinking.

"Well, yes" not wanting to discuss anything further in front of the kids "Take care, Joey"

"Please, call me if you need something" he said, "Let me know you're safe"

Your heart flipped. Why he did those things before your date? Weird. You nodded, going back to the car.

John was a nice man. You were sure he was nice, just...not to you. After thirty minutes in the date he kept talking about himself and his work that you thought you were watching a TED talk. He was good looking, but soon you realize you didn't have anything in common by what he was saying. Your mind wandered to your first date with Joe, it was in a bowling alley. Things got competitive and you spent a really good time together that you hook up in your car after the date. Would you hook up with John? Nah.

"Do you need another drink?" John's voice brought you back from your wild thoughts.

"No, thank you"

"So, you told me your ex-husband was a football player, right?"

"Yes" you said cautiously "He still plays"

"And how do you get along?"

"We talked only for the kids"

"Ummm, sure" he dismissed your answer. You raised your eyebrows, astonished. "What do you mean?" you wondered.

"Nothing. I didn't tell you about this trip I'm going to make next month..." he started talking again.

Joe bought you drinks too. You loved his smile back then. Julian had the same smile actually. After getting married you had very nice dates too, but you loved to spend time at home watching movies and resolving puzzles.

The date went on, and you have to excuse yourself or would die of boredom. After the date you missed your children so much, but it was Joe's time with them. So you went to your house and waited.

On Sunday evening, you went to pick up the kids. After a couple of minutes, Joe appeared wearing shorts and a compression shirt. He looked really handsome, his sandy hair was messy, he looked younger somehow.

"Hey" you said, nervous.

"The kids are in the pool" he explained "Come in while I prepare them"

"Oh, no. I can wait in the car" you replied, pointing at your car. He looked up-and-down, and pressed his lips. You blushed like a teenager "I bet they want to see you"

"Okay" you whispered, follow him inside the house. "How was your date?" the question made you flinch. You didn't remember John at all. "Umm, it was good"

I was bored as hell, and thinking about you. How pathetic.

Silence. By the way he was looking at you, he didn't believe you either. You reach the kitchen and he offered something to drink and you decline. "Are you going to the OTAs early this year?" you wondered, hearing music and the children screams outside.

"No, I'm going to spend time with the kids" you nodded, pleased. Joe was a great father, you never doubted that.

You locked eyes, and your stomach made weird things. His eyes softened, and he got closer to you.

"Y/N can we talk about us?" he requested.

"What?" you were in panic mode "About what?"

"The divorce. I thought were struggling but I never listen to you" he said, seriously "Until you fill in the papers" Your heart sank. His lips were still pressed, the wrinkles on his forehead let you know he was stressed too. "I feel like we never had the time to stop and think what we're doing" he said softly.

The bump in your throat didn't let you speak properly. You tried anyway. "I try to speak to you, Joey. I tried to do many things to save our marriage. It didn't work, you were focused on football, and I felt utterly alone" you wipe a treacherous tear "We weren't a couple anymore. I didn't have a partner"

"Mommy! Daddy!" Julian got into the house all wet and hugged you. "Do you want to see how I jump into de pool?"

"Julian, mommy is here to pick you up" Joe explained "Go and tell your sister" Julian nodded and went happily to his sister. Joe attention was on you again. "We should speak about this with more time"

"Why? Are you trying to marry me again?" you joked frustrated he wasn't listening again. "Yes, I never wanted a divorce" he replied ardently. The confession hit you. "Then, why did you fill the divorce?"

"Because I was scared..." the footsteps didn't let him finish "I'll send you a message, please"

You left Joe's house confused and heartbroken. Even though, you couldn't avoid the hope growing in your chest.

Let me know if you want a second part. I think it would be cool.

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

I love jack so so much he's perfect but tbh I do think it would've worked much more with the show if he was a destiel baby instead of lucifer's. and I'm not just saying that as a shipper or whatever I mean narratively it would've been a lot cleaner- and actually, I think it would've been super funny to no-homo them creating a baby together, like, literally all they would have to do is say "oh, when cas rebuilt dean after hell he accidentally left some grace tangled in his soul, and every time he's healed him since then it's been growing stronger until a nephilim was born". like yes the studio is homophibic etc etc but all the jokes they'd make about dean being spiritually pregnant would be very funny for me personally.

but ANYWAY, jack's story gets messy and convoluted and I think this would've been like...a simple fix. them worrying about him going dark side could be because they're worried how demon!dean and lucifer!cas affected him in development, the show LOVES bloodline drama, chuck's wanting abraham and issac 2.0 would've worked better this way, dean's storyline with him would be improved, bc rather than 'oh no I slowly but surely emotionally adopted the antichrist' like I think he would've had an easier time clocking his john-behavoir if it wasn't a question whether he was jack's dad or not. plus last time dean actively raised a kid he went to great lengths to keep the supernatural away from him, so it'd be interesting to see how he handles a kid he CANT possibly hide from this part of his life. it would make more sense why michael wanted jack as a vessel- yes obviously he wanted the nephilim power boost but also having him as part of the winchester bloodline, making him a PERFECT vessel he doesn't have to worry about burning up would add a lot. we could also use this argument for why lucifer is so interested in him if anyone actually liked that plotline in season 14 lmao. we know chuck hated cas and dean's relationship, could you imagine if he checked in and found out they made an unauthorized baby together💀 like that really would've given better context for why he hates jack so much. cas wouldn't need that whole weird brainwashing arc to wanna protect unborn jack, PLUS it could've been an interesting source of angst for him- he feels like he's failed once again, creating an abomination and putting dean in danger, but also still loves jack immensely. it'd be so good! also imagine how fucking stressed out heaven would be to find out a mini castiel is on the way. they wouldn't even wanna exploit that kid for power they'd be preemptively treating the headaches they know they're gonna get lmfao.

also. the casting directors literally put jensen and misha into a face morph app and cast the first actor they could find that matched the results. which would've made more sense if,,,,he was just Theirs. the comedy of dean and cas making a baby before either of them managed to admit their feelings to each other would be more fun then the "dude adopted a kid and pawns him off on his unwilling roommate's all the time and they eventually warm up to the kid" storyline we actually got. we also could've replaced some of the jack-dean angst from the show with "dean wants to connect more with jack but he feels shut out whenever cas is around bc he can't relate to any angel stuff so obviously jack's going to cas for help more!", which I think would be interesting!! how AWFUL dean and cas would feel that jack didn't feel safe enough to be a baby. dad!sam is still in full swing but he cares for jack right off the bat instead of trying to use him for his powers at first. lily sunder talking about how cas killed her kid bc he thought it was a nephilim and dean, who's already fully aware he's (spiritually) knocked up by cas is like 👹 inch resting cas-tee-elle tell me more. mary having a 'my baby has a baby' crisis. cas insisting jack looks nothing like him is a running joke but then at some point he explains its bc jack's 'true form' looks just like dean's soul....

ALSO- in a show where, canonically, the very first act of free will was cas falling in love with dean...the physical manifestation of that defeating chuck and taking his place as god? come ON.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: yes…Virgin!Gale + Maureen/Gale bonding

Universe: Friends in the Crucible (pacific au)

Summary: “Get laid, Buck.” Doc Egan prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve your jitters better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

Warnings: all the sex! 18+.|| both tender and feral || Doc Egan being a unorthodox but loving menace, a theme of ptsd and body tremors/insomnia -poor Gale is going through it after a whole war, drug mentions, erectile disfunction, Maureen is aggressive but everything’s consensual, usage of the word “Jap”. Graphic descriptions of Gale’s virginity loss, male overstimulation and an amusing amount of thought given to Bucky’s existence during the act … im sure that won’t lead to anything when Maureen returns to base and reports to Egan about it, right? Hahaha of course not, that would be craaazy

Word count: 10k

“Buck, come on now, it’s not a prison sentence, it’s just a little time off.”

“I don’t need time off.” Gale reiterated, a panicked sort of fierceness creeping into his tone as his appeal now stretched into something longer than the usual flippant favors Egan was customarily so eager to dole out.

“Those hands suggest ya do.” John gave a not unkind glance of sympathy at the twitching fingers rattling on the armrests of Cleven’s chair.

12 rescue missions in 15 days. Flying upwards of ten hours each. He’d done worse before, but then again, that had been when he was fresh, younger, less banged up from the head hitting the cockpit wall.

“Sending me to go watch flamingos and contemplate sand or some shit isn’t gonna make me steadier.” Gale very much feared his gripes were beginning to sound like begs, “Don’t send me off like this. Don’t.”

“Petrified of flamingos?” John hummed, glancing down at his chart as if contemplating making a note of this new malady, “Maybe if your dad had taken you to a zoo once or twice as a kid you’d not be scared stiff of the prospect.”

Cleven stared back at him with the most hurt eyes John had ever seen. He balled his own fist up to remember the rightness of his point, even if he’d delivered it about as clumsily as a marriage proposal at a funeral. “The hell would you say something like that?” Buck whispered, not even angry, just utterly lost.

“Buck, I’m just sayin’ -inability to slow or be alone, it’s classic symptoms of battle fatigue.”

“I don’t wanna sit on a beach when I could be helping, I’m perfectly capable of still helping! You know it!”

“But you can’t sleep.” John circled back to where this all began, with Gale asking if there was anything to knock a fella out when 82 hours of insomnia wasn’t sufficiently exhausting.

“Give me something, you’re a doctor! Goddamnit, John!” Gale finally broke, voice raising and fists clenched.

“Surgeon, technically.” John gave him a wane smile, “And I can’t dope up an active pilot.”

“Just an active surgeon.” Gale sneered, tit for tat on the insults.

John nodded grimly but murmured, “The day Gale Cleven becomes John Egan is a day this whole operation can pack up and go home.”

“So you're being the better man,” Gale scoffed, “-sending me to watch flamingos.”

“I’m not givin’ you shit.“ he confirmed, “Unless it’s an assignment.”

“Will it keep me outta the flak asylum?”

“If you comply to all the regulations, maybe.” Egan shrugged.

“Go on?”

“Get laid, Buck.” his friend prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve you better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

“That’s your ultimatum?”

“No, no, my ultimatum is that you go on a little sabbatical with one of my nurses, she’ll keep an eye on you and you can make yourself useful, helping her unload heavy shit at the aid station they’re setting up at Peleliu. My recommendation is that when she comes into your room at the end of the day and drops her knickers, you lay back and think of Wyoming.”

Major Cleven had thought of a million and one ways to bribe or ally the prospective nurse to his side of the deal once he knew which unfortunate female Egan was going to pick for this deplorable detail. Calling his friend a pimp and a bastard had done little good, threatening malpractice and a hardness of heart towards Gale’s own principles -even less. So Gale figured when the time came he’d just gently turn the well meaning comfort gal away and maybe pay her off to lie that they’d done it: for his hand’s sake.

After all, if she was willing to do this, was she even a nurse or was she someone Bucky dressed up in Red Cross arm bands like some sleazy fantasy? Gale didn’t think any of the nurses he’d encountered would be willing to go along with such a sordid “assignment.” Sure, some of them were -carefree. Indulgent. Easy, as the men sometimes called them before getting a stinging cheek that proved them wrong. But they were a proud bunch and they had earned it.

Rolling a toothpick in his cheek, Buck pondered these things while sat on the bench of a Goony Bird waiting for his nurse to hop into the cargo hold with him and off they’d go to Pelilu. The situation was made worse by the suspense of who it might be and the insulting foreignness of being on a plane but not piloting. It made Gale feel an odd sort of feeling close to self pity that he hadn’t felt in ages, not since he was a kid and the nostalgia of it wrung him out of all energy. He made himself sit on that metal bench motionless as the heat index rose on the tarmac and made up a fun little game involving trying to see if he could get his hands to stop tremoring for five seconds straight.

So far he’d lost his own wager each time. He told himself if he could make it to five seconds then the nurse Bucky had sent would be a gray haired matron and this really was just a sabbatical to lift boxes and breathe ocean air and get Gale to laugh at himself.

Then Maureen Kendeigh climbed into the hold and squeezed past their cargo of medicine crates and plopped down right next to him, leg bumping his and breathing like a race horse. “I have jogged here the entire way from administration.” she wheezed, tugging at the collar of her shirt where her glistening throat was bobbing in thirst. “Sorry I’m so late, Major. Am I late?”

It could have been Bucky sat next to him: the choice of phrasing was so familiar, the damnable ability to force forgiveness for tardiness with a single smile so predictable. Gale found dread knotting his stomach at the realization it would be her, even as a warmth spread all over him at her sweet presence that had the odd effect of steadying his hands despite the panicked fuzz of his brain at her proximity.

Oh he didn’t want this. No, no, no. He’d like to think of Maureen very much apart, apart from anything but her heroism, not her wide spread stance on the bench beside him or the idea of her dropping her knickers and making him think of Wyoming. He preferred her very much not attainable in the deeper ways and very much not what he saw himself with when all this was over. Whatever she and Doc Egan had was between them and he’d held it up like a shield to keep himself in check, a boy's code of honor about not encroaching on his friend’s girl. Even if said friend didn’t have the decency to make said girl “his” girl.

But to have Maureen dished up to him on a platter by John when John must have suspected some of Gale’s appreciation for her professional merits -it was somehow worse than any dressed up floozy or the easy new intern. He’d not be able to pay Maureen off without insulting her. Or outing Egan’s intent. Maybe she didn’t know. What if Gale spilled the beans and she was as harmless as himself? What if—

“God, Major, did you sleep at all?” Maureen’s steady fingers were gripping his expressionless face and suddenly turned him towards her, one thumb swiping a tender crescent in his under eyes.

Gale’s eyes seemed to forget blinking was a thing, they grew wide and stayed wide at her inspection and the sandy wind blowing in from the tarmac stung at them as they dried out. “No,” he found his voice and it came out more winded than hers, “you’re not late.” he lied.

Once they get to the island, touchdown and unload, there’s then three hours of driving around the pitted old warzone to the aid station. There’s more foliage the more they go, less mortar pitted earth, but the increasing tropical paradise surroundings put Gale on edge. Maureen drives them to their unexplored destination as confident and recklessly as Bucky would, little surprise there. Gale can’t help glancing at her with unabashed amusement for the way she keeps her pistol propped on top of the steering wheel with one grip, facing out like a top turret for their hood, while keeping the map balanced on her thigh.

He cradles his own BAR with loose arms, ready to use it. Sure they secured the island months ago, but still, not infrequently some Jap comes out of his hiding hole, a cave, or whatever fucking tree he resides in and surrenders. Or, conversely, some of them have charged with guns blazing or sword drawn, deciding to go out and a bang of glory and take with them whichever hapless American happens to be nearby. That Emperor worship shit ain’t happening on on Gale’s watch, and so Maureen gets to drive -she didn’t have to beg like that, he was going to let her- and he shoulders the duty of keeping his eyes peeled for the next bush becoming animate and running at them, pulled pin grenade in hand.

“Some relaxation.” he jokes as their jeep lurches into another crater. If it’s not the bomb pits it’s the massive roots crawling over the smashed earth the Marine Corps call a road.

“It’s a reverse strategy!” she informs, grin wide as a shark’s and Gale could almost draw a little pencil mustache above that top lip and pretend it’s Bucky torturing him thus -hey, that might be a good mode of thought to keep everything strictly professional- “Like when nothing else works, you kick the broken thing.” Gale politely ignores the urge to argue about being broken, that’s not her point… he hopes, “You’re all shook up,” she goes on, voice raised to be heard over the rev of her driving, “and calm hasn’t worked, so why not shake you up worse?!”

He squints at her, fully aware he isn’t being chummy like she is trying to be, knowing he’s being a stick in the mud but he’s dying under the uncertainty, chafing under the pretense. Does she know? Or does she not? Five times today he’s resisted the urge to slap her chest like he would Demarco’s and ask her levelly, man to man, if she knows. “If this doesn’t work then what?” he asks anyway, sober as hell despite the comedic jostling and even Maureen’s joviality dims in the face of his dour mood.

“Then we’ll have to get real unorthodox.” she replies, allowing something close to annoyance at his attitude to seep into her own expression and Gale refuses to pull his eyes off her.

Do you know? He wants to ask.

“Stop scowling at me and watch for Japs.” she snaps at him so suddenly and so heated he genuinely spooks and turns his body back towards their horizon.

It’s worse than he thought. Worse than he imagined on the times he lost the bet with his hands and let his mind go somewhere besides a practical joke from Bucky and a gray haired spinster nurse as his companion. The aid station is on the edge of the new camp, far off enough to be genuinely secluded from both sights and smells of the navy station. It’s a tiki hut, thatched roof and swinging mesh door and lovely little veranda and palm trees and waves lapping up the back steps.

It looks like the sorta place people advertise for honeymoons and Gale stares at it with a 100 yard stare once Maureen grinds the gears to park.

“Jesus.” he knows his mouth is curling in disgust and beside him Maureen huffs in disgust with him.

She jumps out of her side of the jeep, not a shred of amusement left on her face. Gale sits and stares and listens to the roar of surf and the clinking of the cooling engine.

“Not bad.” she grunts under the burden of a crate which Gale should be lifting if he could just make his legs work and his mind obey. “But I bet it’s gonna be a bitch to keep the gnats out though, so much foliage around.”

Her hips sway like a tantalizing pendulum when she jogs up the bungalow stairs, her waist somehow accentuated by the way her arms are lifted to keep the crate hoisted on her strong shoulder and Gale has the perfect seat to watch it. How did he never notice the lines on her before she was doing hard labor? Then he recalls, she’s mostly been in flight suits around him, he’s never seen her paired down to collared shirts and belted pants. How’d he never notice the lines on that gi-

“Don’t make me drive this thing in the surf to wake you up.” her slap on his listless forearm rouses him to realize she’s back out at the jeep, standing beside him looking at him as he sits here catatonic like the mental case he’s showing symptoms of being. “And take your jacket off, you’re gonna get overheated being so formal.”

“Are you in on it?” he snaps suddenly as she grins at him over his first crate. He can’t tell if she’s mocking him or not but he’s damn tired of it.

“In on what?” Her face falls.

He can’t do it. He just can’t do it and he hates himself for being such a coward. “This.” he chooses vagueness and it tastes foreign and awful on his tongue.

“It’s a week out of the cockpit in paradise, Cleven,” Maureen’s own expression holds back no disdain for his pissy attitude, “man the hell up.”

What Maureen, Gale and five other technicians had loaded into the jeep and it’s buggy in the course of two hours, takes the mere two of them close to four to unload. And that’s even with Gale keeping a rapid pace to his work like a sweating maniac, feverishly wanting to stop thinking for once. His jacket and shirt are thrown over the chairs that are actually provided as furniture in the place and Maureen’s tie lays discarded on the accompanying desk. The rooms are bare but there’s two beds in the bedroom with crisp sheets that have only a bit of pollen dusting them and there’s a desk, as mentioned, three chairs in the main room and Maureen insists they can use crates for a table.

The back room is for the actual medical aid, and Maureen insists nothing gets moved into it until she can sanitize the whole place. So they stack the boxes in the main room and in the bedroom and when the sun gets lower they’re relieved to find there’s some dubious provisions for electricity in the place.

“I can get it to work.” Gale decides as Maureen tries flicking the light switch ten times as if to see if the bare bulb will grow a will of its own and turn on for her. It reminds him so much of Bucky’s brand of idiocy that Gale almost forgets himself and reaches out to swat her hand away from the futile flicking.

“Ok, then you do that while I keep unloading.” she insists, “Won’t be able to do anything if it’s pitch dark in here.”

So Gale drags a chair over and begins to fiddle with the wires tacked to the ceiling, risking electrocution so Maureen Kendeigh can see her way around as she tromps past him again and again in the same path with yet another crate.

He’s good with his hands. Excellent, in fact, judging by how one bulb flickers then stays steady, then another and another until the inside of the bungalow is aglow with cozy light: enough light for Maureen to appreciate his sweat soaked singlet and the way it rides up his belly when his arms are up and how it’s bright enough for her to scrub the exam room effectively when laying in a room with an insomniatic Gale Cleven gets to her at 3:00 am.

As it surely will. God! -the man is as impossible as he is beautiful, and while she doubted she’d manage it with him before, the sheer amount of fury she feels towards him right now leaves no doubt. She’ll shake him up. Like a Fuckin’ Martini. And he doesn’t have to like it, probably won’t, but they’ll both feel better after. “In on it” -he’s got the gall to ask but not the balls to spell it out, she can’t abide a quasi gentleman and so far Gale Cleven’s been nothing but the genuine article. Until now, now when he can’t accept certain human things about himself like fatigue or attraction, and he takes it out on her with a sullenness belonging to a much older man.

Maureen’s fine with that, she thinks as ogles the glowing golden skin of his sheened shoulders on one of her passes with a crate, she can take her mad out on him, too. And she’s got a lot of it. More than John Egan was ever able to lick away.

By 15:00, and some change to the second hand, Gale Cleven was still awake. Little surprise there, not to him, but even though it didn’t matter he found himself thoroughly annoyed and taking it out with a lethal glare at the vague gray ceiling, lit by a massive moon over the ocean. Wire and chairs but no curtains -an oversight about the furnishings. It wouldn’t have mattered, he knew that, and still the racket Maureen was making put his teeth on edge. It wasn’t Benny’s snoring or John’s drunken mumbling but it was a consistent *swoosh, swish* of industry that had Gale feeling a mixture of guilt and determination to keep lying here while she scrubbed.

It had not occurred to him she might’ve needed this break, too. Such as it was, effective as it was not proving. He knew she’d seen some combat in the beginning at Manila, maybe even worse than Iwo but long hours doing what she was doing now, where she was doing it, was no joke.

The urge to get up and help her was strong but then, so was the crippling fear of being around her in the dead of night and inviting any more of the bossy familiarity she’d tucked him into bed with. A magnesium capsule! She’d made him take three of the maternity horse pills and told him to calm the hell down as if he didn't have ample reason to be on edge with her laying a foot away on another bed, stripped down to her cotton slip. Of course Gale would cite war horrors if anyone asked why he couldn’t sleep but to be frank, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t managing it these days and it had started awhile ago. Before Maureen Kendeigh glowed sweaty and luminous in the moonlight while gripping his cheeks and puckering his protesting mouth and plopping pills on his lolling tongue.

Thinking of it made his face flame with embarrassment for such a childish resistance. But god, her nursley familiarity sent a cross signal to his brain each time she helped herself to his flesh and no amount of berating himself while sweating in these rough sheets could dislodge the reaction. Closer to fifteen hundred than was remotely chivalrous, Gale threw off his sweat soaked bedding and tromped into the glow of light outside their bedroom, shuffling blearily into the little exam room. He faltered for a brief ten seconds at the doorway watching her undulating movements with sponge in hand and knees on the floor, white slip clinging like a second skin from the sweat.

He felt the sudden medical urge to lick her like the cattle back home lick at the salt block, a strange way of quenching thirst. Was ninety two hours without sleep considered genuine grounds for insanity? He felt like maybe he should be keeping a diary of these fevered thoughts to report back to John and see if he needed to get turned in. This wasn’t horniness, this was salt cravings. Yeah, yeah that’s what it was.

“You hypocrite.” he felt emboldened to tease and his voice came out rough and lower than even he expected, the disuse of laying there for ages taking a toll.

Maureen looked up like she’d been spooked herself, a slip and stall of her scrubbing, hair hanging about her face so unprofessionally he realized he’d never seen it in such…disarray. “Oh, the baby’s awake.” she grinned back and he felt an indulgence settle in his gut for her he didn’t know existed, “I see my magnesium capsules were a cure all.”

“Oh yeah, knock a horse out.” he agreed derisively.

“Your eyes are droopier.” she found a silver lining and as if reminded of the grit in them, his large fists came up and rubbed them meanly.

Like a little boy, she thought, watching him in the harsh light of the bare bulb, warm wood all around him the same color as all that sweaty skin and those skivvies hanging onto the lithest set of hips she may have ever seen. Looked as if one deep breath of that lean belly and the fabric would be goners, slipping down to the floor dramatically like a woman’s pantyhose in those unfortunate comics where that’s always occurring just when she wants to cross a busy street. Maybe if she could make him belly laugh-

She wished she knew how. She wondered if he knew how.

“Got another Sponge?” he asked and she was reminded why she liked him so much.

“Top crate, there, left, there that one.” She directed him with jerks of her chin until he was at the right one, “I’m using antiseptic.” she warned.

“I know,” he answered, dropping to his knees beside her and making use of her bucket to dunk his sponge, “smell’s been givin’ me a headache.”

Maureen’s mouth twitched at his tired grumpiness, more endearing now he was still putting effort into being near the caustic shit and the way his golden hair flopped on his forehead with his scrubbing movements. If his hips were that fluid, that rhythmic in cleaning a floor, how much more could she teach him to be—“Yeah, I’m sure it’s the anti-septic giving you a headache.” she snarked.

They ate sandwiches he’d gotten from the navy camp’s mess on the back porch, letting the sea water lap at their feet. A little stale but it was a much needed breakfast and Gale brought fresh water back, too, and a report that they were nice fellas and entirely too undressed for her to ever go see. That suited her fine, they’d be a pest if they knew a woman was up here and personally speaking she only needed one man for company, crate lifting, and doing the job well. And she rather had her heart set on it being Gale Cleven. Especially now she got to stare at him under the bright morning sun with a tropical breeze and more skin on display than at a swimsuit contest. He’d put on a singlet, as if to mark that a day had begun even if they hadn’t slept the night, but that was promptly sweat soaked and tiny nipples were pebbling under it from the breeze.

“Did they ask if a nurse came with you?” she pressed him between bites.

“Yeah.” he swallowed his bite thickly and licked at the mayo collecting at the corner of his mouth with typical precision, “And I lied.”

“Well, well,” she cooed, making him roll his eyes, “how’d that feel?”

“I have lied before.” he balked.

The look he gave her was both thunderous and remincent and she repented that line of questioning, used to distinguishing in her patients whether a wound was from wartime or stemmed from childhood. “Well who’d you say came with?” she asked.

“A technician.” he mumbled, blushing for some reason.

“Mm, someone nice and hairy and stinky-“

“Stop.” he begged.

“-not anyone they’d wanna meet.”

“I did it for you!”

“-if that makes you sleep at night, Cleven.” she humored him and like lightning, the back of his hand had flicked out and thumped her on the sternum, hard.

“Shit!” Maureen clutched the place, more in surprise than pain although he’d walloped her good and well.

“Shit!” He parroted in mortification, holding his hand like it was an offensive weapon.

“What was that for?” she laughed, “Do I remind you that much of Benny? Are you missing him that bad? Is that who you pretended was with you up here? Huh? Huh? Benny Demarco, now that’s a beauty to hide under a bushel-“

She was crowding him in on the steps and he was teetering towards falling off, too alarmed at his own outburst to trust his instincts now to shove her off without causing harm -and she knew it. She pressed her advantage and crawled over him with her teasing comments about Demarco until his long body had bowed so far away from her’s it was levitating and then toppled predictably into the surf.

“Fuck it’s cold!” he wheezed out as the embrace of the old pacific drenched him and rolled him about at her feet for a few delightful moments before he got his footing and rose, shaking his hair out of his eyes and grabbing for the steps.

“Sea bathing was in doctor Egan’s regimen.” she informed remorselessly before extending a merciful hand to help him up. He was slippery and shiny as an eel coming up and the grip of his hand was as strong as she expected. And still she found it intoxicating, the duality of him as he stood there pouting and bitchy over being cooled off. “Stay right there baby, I’ll get you a towel.” she patted his chest, right where he’d smacked hers, and went inside.

“I’m not your baby.” She heard him holler to her through the door-less porch. “I’m not your baby.” he reiterated vehemently but lower again when she came out with the towel.

“Yes you are.” she argued, “For this week you’re my baby, whether that’s a literal infant or not is your choice -and don’t start arguing, you’ve got to stop it, no one’s making you do a damn thing.” she insisted, hand raised and his mouth closed satisfyingly as a result, “You’ll be my baby. I know you already had a baby, no? Our baby? Shared her with ten other men, that’s generous of you-“

“-Ensign!-“

“-so I’m not gonna be your baby. You’ll be mine and you can find me something to be for the week.” she watched closely as recognition of her logic began to dawn and settle on him, “I could be anyone. I could be Benny Demarco, for instance. If that’s who you wanna lay next to.”

Gale didn’t speak for a long while, eyes off to the side watching the surf lap at the steps and she was still standing there, holding his unused towel. “Who do you want me to be?” he asked finally and his grave perception just about winded her in its raw honesty.

“You.” she replied honestly, “Whichever version of you made it here with me.”

“An infant -a baby.” he scoffed and she was suspicious those eyes were watery. And too delayed for it to be from the salt.

“My baby.” she replied, “Never had one before.”

“With respect ma’am, that’s Bullshit.” he argued in a fierce hiss, “I know you have, with John and -and-“

“I’ve been somebody’s,” she clarified, “but I think I’ve grown out of that. You’ll be my baby, huh? It’s not marriage, Cleven, it’s a week in paradise and hopefully some shut eye, too. So do you want me to be Benny?”

Those watery eyes let one single tear go trickling down his pink cheek alongside the rivulets of ocean water dripping from his hair and Maureen had never felt a single thing heat her up quite like it. “No,” his chuckle was thick and he sniffed, “not Benny. Maybe uh, God, I dunno, I’ve never had anyone.”

“Then we can make it up entirely.” she was pleased by the idea of not being a stand-in, although god knows she and John could sympathize more about the need for that than anyone. “We’ll be castaways.” she suggested, sitting back down on the porch now the confrontation was dwindling and in full confirmation of her suspicions, he sat again beside her without fuss.

“Marooned.” he disagreed, chin resting on his hands and a boyish tug pulling up the corner of his lips. “Something insane you did landed us here.”

“Mm, took liberties with the captain's daughter, perhaps?” she teased, daring to run a finger along those golden shoulders and collect a few salt drops. He shuddered under her but stayed put.

“I’m not playing fair maiden for you.” he retorted but his eyes were fond.

“Mm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maureen was still impossible and Gale felt his gut burn in a bizzare sort of drive to prove her wrong. He’d hardly ever felt this even with all the jokes from the boys, not even with all the temptations from the girls, it just hadn’t seemed something that needed proving. Every flea and salmon could do it, he never doubted when he got married he could manage it credibly enough.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” his voice sounded like he’d come to a decision and Maureen squinted at his profile until it clicked.

“I’ve never been married before.” she observed breezily.

“And I never planned on being married for just a week.” he replied.

“Isn’t there a film about this?” she asked, “Cary Grant gets stuck on an island and he marries his castaway but then they get rescued and there’s a first wife?”

“Yeah, I think so, actually.” he thumbed at his bottom lip in contemplation and Maureen found it endlessly distracting, along with the bird song and the ocean crash and the sunshine.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” she agreed then, settling back on her elbows to stare up at the sun and let it add a few freckles, “And when it’s over and you’re rescued, I’ll be the better woman and let Our Baby have you.”

“You’ll always be the best of women, Maureen.” he sounded like the admittance took every fiber of his resolve to say, but she’d heard it before in his voice weeks ago when she was patching him up.

If a tear slipped out the corner of her shut eyes and down a sun warmed cheek, she wasn’t going to make a deal of it, not until she felt his finger catch it tenderly before it dropped from her jaw and rolled it back up.

She felt her lip wobble traitorously and perhaps there were more tears planning to follow and betray her but the shivering shock of his full lips, pressed to her bare shoulder, stemmed the flood. Maureen held her breath and kept her eyelids sealed, an orange glow of sunshine behind them as all her senses attuned to the drag of his caresses up to the juncture of her shoulder, the press of his body next to her on the porch boards, the suspenseful absence of his hands. They were soft as marshmallows, those lips, and a stray tip of his tongue caught her clavicle as he worked his way up a path that almost seemed premeditated, as if he’d thought of doing this a million times but held back. Now he allowed himself and the assured intimacy of his mouth made her body heat soar almost beyond her endurance as he crept up her throat and onto her cheek.

A kitten lick to that tear track down her cheek and Maureen was whimpering from something else entirely, breaking ranks and turning her head to gaze at him, nearly stunned by how close he was, how alive, how beautiful, how blue. There were his hands now, one propped beneath her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek. Her lips were tingling with anticipation by the time he’d lowered his face far enough and brushed her mouth with his.

Maybe he’d done his fair share of kissing the girls back home goodbye, or maybe it was a talent given along with this impossible lips, or perhaps she’d wanted it so long that the final having of it sent Maureen spiraling with something oddly like obsession.

Kissing was enough for the longest time, the shore sounds and the squawking of ocean birds and the feel of Gale Cleven laying more and more atop her as his tongue met hers and danced. She scratched the back of that tanned neck like she dreamed of doing a dozen times, little scritches to his hairline that had him sagging against her kisses to the point of crushing.

She allowed herself the liberty of running her hands along his lean sides, taking in the graceful taper of his waist, the dip of his back, the sopping wet waistband of his briefs. She wondered if this is how men feel with a young girl, when there’s so much loveliness one wants to maul it and mark it and watch it respond. Anything to make him moan again into her mouth, wrenched and helpless and appreciative of her all at once, anything for him to hump his hips against her thigh in a manner so mindless he didn’t seem himself at all.

When he pulled away, dazed and winded from his own exertions, he seemed to have left behind all his inhibitions, stark need written on his face and only some doubt of what he was allowed yet remaining. “Are we gonna?-“ he trailed off, raspy voiced and trembling with suspense.

“Going to what?” she couldn’t abide it any longer, his demureness, “Say your mind, Cleven.”

“Do it.” he let out with a wince.

“Well I don’t know, Mr. Jones, you tell me. Are we gonna?”

Gale huffed and threw his head back, trying to regain some sense of mind, lip savagely pulled between his teeth. “Yeah. We are.” he decided.

“Then finish your sandwich.” she patted his waist and pushed him off.

“I can’t!” he begged with a groan from where he’d spilled out on the porch like a boneless dummy. “Not now.”

“You’re gonna need it, the water too, trust me on this.”

“Are we gonna -make love? Or go for a forced march?” he protested but lifted the canteen to his lips anyways when she gave him a look and proceeded to drink it dry.

“How would you know the difference?” she teased and he had the good humor to roll his eyes. If all went according to Egan’s plan, they oughta hibernate for twelve hours of sleep afterwards and she wanted him hydrated and ready for that. Maureen had a plan of her own, which certainly might lead to such a sleep, but it also involved not getting off that boy for love of God or money until he was as useless as a wet rag and the impertinent gnawing between her own legs was replaced by a good ache.

Cleven was staring at his sandwich remorsefully, “I can’t get this down, Maureen.” he declared with sudden finality and then, without preamble he threw it into the sea. “C’mon, Mrs Jones.” he held out his hand for her as he stood up, something close to an excited grin taking over his face.

He was so confident now, having come to a decision, and Maureen found herself naturally bending to his direction, placing her hand in his large palm and allowing him to haul her to her feet as gently as a dance partner. “We’ve got a bed.” she reminded blissfully into another kiss, anchored to his face by the persistent hands snarled lovingly into her salt tousled curls: this hair Maureen, this hair drove me mad.

“And we’re gonna use it.” he agreed, walking her backwards up the porch until he feet were skidding over the threshold, his tongue still sucking her own.

She stopped him there with a hand to the willowy plane of his belly, a regulated, principled woman to the last, and snapped the still soaked waistband of his drawers. “Off, you’ll make the sheets wet and sandy.”

Their sweat would accomplish dampening them enough in this muggy heat, they didn’t need sand and ocean water to boot. Maureen ducked beneath his arm and went back out to grab the discarded towel.

“I don’t want a trail of drips on our clean floor.”

Gale smiled softly at the usage of “our” -it felt right somehow, to share things with her. They’d been at it for some time, it came naturally like it had with Bucky and the few other boys who he knew would be something special and unlike anything else after this. It was a little bittersweet to know he was living the best days of his life, right here and now, enviable, irretrievable moments of raw connection slipping away with each drip, drip, drip onto the threshold. It was a heartache in the making and it was a spur for the moment. Back home they’d never understand, and any old observer would see nothing unique, but Gale could allow himself the rightness of sharing just one more thing. Why not cement it fully, irrevocably, as the closest brush he’d ever come to with another soul- he’d asked himself the same with Bucky, knew it was already an established fact.

Maureen’s lips were warm where they pressed to his back, the space between his shoulders, towel held to his waist. “You’re not shy of me, are ya, baby?” she whispered in his ear, thumbing at the still worn briefs.

He could feel himself this past hour hardening and softening, so many times in the space of so many minutes he was dizzy with it, the way his brain would have the upper hand and then, suddenly no, it all rushed south. Which now left shyness as the only real excuse for the way he burned and shrank and burned and shrank in turn at each of her touches.

“You gonna give me the towel?” he asked instead.

“Once it’s safe to do so.” she replied primly, in her familiar nursing voice, and he hated the shudder that tore through him. She stepped under his arm again, around him and into the house, and stood in the shade of the it with the towel spread invitingly, tauntingly. A whole yard and a half between then and she’d decreed no drips past the threshold. Gale’s cheeks burned as did his eyes, smarting with brimming tears from an odd frustration he’d only ever felt over a botched mission, an anger at not being able to bomb his target and make it worthwhile, a petty frustration he always felt before the cold rage of lost men fully registered.

Futile tears: Gale yanked the skivvies down and stepped out of them efficiently.

Maureen wasn’t smiling at him from the shade anymore, not even a smirk, she looked hungry. She looked like Bucky, taking in “a view.” Gale didn’t know ladies ticked that way -or maybe they didn’t, maybe only Maureen did. The blush in his cheeks ran down his chest and spilled onto his belly and his fists clenched without thought.

“When the man of the house,” Maureen was reciting some inane pamphlet she no doubt did not heed or else they’d never be here, “respects the whims of the lady in small matters, he will find the lady more submissive to issues of larger stake such a-“

Gale made a dash at her, to shut her up, and she fled from him to the bedroom, feet smacking on the hardwood and cotton slip fluttering up her thighs -his towel with her.

“I want you bare.” he told her when he had her, struggling in his arms before the bed, a lush friction where he pressed tightly behind her.

“Then sit,” she sounded genuinely breathy, trapped to him and he had never heard her like that before, it made him want to hold fast, “and I’ll make your dreams come true.”

It was just a slip, no garters and no braisere or girdle, yet still Gale sat himself on the bed and Maureen bit her cheek to keep from laughing at the modest way he deposited the towel on his lap, covering what she’d been eyeing and thanking her luck for. A cock as pretty as his face -now if she could just make it stand up fully.

“You ready?” she deferred to him as she stood there before the bed, being looked on with all the reverence and trepidation of a goddess by this seated acolyte.

“Please,” he nodded furiously, “please show me.”

It felt a little wrong to expose oneself in front of such an angelic being, curtainless windows throwing in the sun on him all golden and untouched, white scratchy sheets and white draped towel making it a bower of innocence for a brief moment. It also felt right, to throw off everything but what they’d been born with. Off went rank, obligations and expectations, as easily as dragging the slip over her head.

She tossed the article of clothing behind her for good measure -and dramatic effect- then noted with satisfaction the bleary eyed comprehension of her charms from Gale Cleven where he sat with his mouth hung so slack he was liable to drool.

“Incredible.” he muttered, husky and a little slurred, his hand raising without his own volition to beckon her closer, a plea, command.

Maureen swayed on her feet, nearer and nearer until she was standing above him, between his parted legs and she shuddered as he laid that broad palm on her hip and dragged it up her side in an admiring swath, thumbing at her belly and catching her ribs in his hold.

“Those flight suits of yours, they don’t…they don’t let show the half of it.” Gale declared, mesmerized, face hovering closer and closer until his lips were pressing against her flesh, right under her sternum, his forehead pressed to the underside of one pendulous breast, nuzzling as he became aware of that, bunting like a calf at her breast with his face, gone silly with access.

“Whadda ya think?” she giggled, the silliness of Gale Cleven gone stupid over making yams jiggle being the exact sort of thing that made life worth living, and being a woman exquisitely satisfying.

“They’re so goddamn soft.” he moaned around a bit of the underside, still hadn’t worked his way to a nipple. He seemed too preoccupied with their give and bounce to make a more calculated use of them. Maybe if men hadn’t been told what to do with them, they’d do what Gale Cleven was doing and rub their face against them and let them rest on their foreheads. There was a charm to this ignorance as he licked the salty sweat from their undersides with a surprisingly brave tongue.

The clumsy misuse was oddly effective for Maureen, what Gale lacked in skill he made up for in unstudied appreciation and nothing got her quite so ready as being appreciated to the point of foolishness. Her first conquest had been a boy at school who hadn’t minded tripping in his track shoes, day after day, to try to catch up to her on her bicycle, just to give her a flower or trinket. He was laughed at for his devotion until he broke the school track record next year, and Maureen was sure to remind him of her role in his success. They’d soon found a mutually beneficial reward system and Maureen had adopted that attitude as a maxim for the future, her dates and conquests may have been many but each of them in their own way had been appreciative -or else she was jumping out the window, damn the twelve foot drop out the dormitory.

No one, however, had looked quite so gifted by her mere existence as Gale Cleven did while he clutched at her hips and smushed her flesh between his hands like it were some fine dough and he was an artisan.

Discreetly, and it was easy to be so with his face buried in her bosoms, Maureen glanced between them at the tool she had such hopes for and found it, unsurprisingly, twitching and dribbling against his thigh, half hard but flapping about like a fish on dry land, the discarded towel no match for its movement. He’d need a hand, literally and metaphorically, and as she raked her nails through his blond curls and directed his slick mouth to a nipple, she felt him sag even further into her hold. Maureen weighed her next step carefully, trying to tamp down her own wants. She’d need to be sure but slow, careful not to spook him, or antagonize or embarrass.

She wondered if he even realized the same banged-up-head condition that sent him out here was most likely responsible for the jitters that kept him flopping. She wasn’t so conceited as to assume he’d not bedded a woman yet out of mere dysfunction, Cleven was a man of principle and strict notions regarding how the world should be, and he wasn’t one to build those notions on passing medical conditions.

“You like ‘em?” Maureen teased him, shocked at how hoarse her own voice had gone in the interim.

“Gonna make a home in here.” he mumbled in the affirmative, slack grin molded to the valley between them, blue eyes wide as the skies outside peering up at her.

“Got a job for you, baby.” she murmured, thumbing at the scar on his cheek.

“What’s that Mrs. Jones?” his voice alone made her mad with need, as did the saucy turn of his mouth so wonderfully foreign she didn’t know how she’d control herself until he was ready.

“Need you to lick a little landing strip, right here.” she ran her finger along the somewhat tacky skin between her breasts, sweat and his sloppy kisses having partway done the job already.

“What for?” Gale asked, hushed and curious.

“You’ll see soon enough.” she recalled how effective her nursing voice had been on him, and pulled it out now it seemed beneficial.

She had been right, with only a hesitant spark of aggravated defiance, Gale dipped his head and stuck out that pink tongue, lapping a swath up between her breasts as directed, flaming eyes locked on hers as she shivered from the breeze on spit slicked flesh.

“Again.” she told him, and his hands came up to hold her breasts apart as he did it again, and again and once more under his own direction until it was shiny and messy and his nose was gleaming, too.

“What’s it for?” He demanded once more, pink cheeked and swallowing hard as his mouth had dried out from his efforts.

“I told you, silly,” she replied casually, “it’s a landing strip.” and with as little fuss as possible she got to her knees before he’d registered the absence of her standing above him. “Gale, let go of the damned towel.”

She held in a laugh of delight at the tortured color he had grown to, veins running like so much ivy up and down him and a vibrant pink tip that matched his lips. Maureen wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look him in the face again without thinking of this drizzling little pink mushroom.

“You oughta count your blessings, Gale Cleven, it was a close call, my coming along at all.” she informed him soberly while his mind visibly vacated his body at the repeated sighting of his sputtering cock emerging from between the pillowy press of her breasts, “It was pretty touch and go there for a bit, I was quite sure in fact, that Bucky was gonna help himself to this assignment.”

“Maureen!” Gale thundered, except his usual imposing ire was much diluted by his quivering belly and hoarse voice.

“What?” she brushed off his scandalized displeasure with a grin, feeling cocky herself as he hadn’t flagged on her in minutes and was beginning to gush in earnest, “Bucky loves the beach.”

“Sure, Maureen.”

“In the end he decided I had what it takes.” she went on conversationally, ignoring the inhuman sounds that came out of him when she casually spit on his tip, the better to work her lips around him, “These.” she clarified, pressing her breasts to his thighs as she wrapped her mouth around him and sucked.

“Fuck, hell, Maureen! Sorry, sorry, oh fuck!” -not even Gale Cleven had expected his hips to fly up that hard and fast, knocking on the back of her throat.

She laid her hands on his squirmy hips and did her best impression of a Listerine gargle round his tip, which sent a shudder through him so strong she thought he might’ve climaxed already.

“Maureen, Maureen come on, get up here, please.” now he yanked at her hair, desperate for once and that was a pleasure to hear.

“What baby?” she pulled off him.

“Gotta kiss you.” he told her firmly, and hauled her bodily up by her armpits, rolling her under him in the bed.

Kisses -sure, Gale, kisses.

He was moaning atop her, wiry and flexing his hips against her, wriggling to get between her thighs and she let him, hungry and expectant when he slotted easily in place. He pressed his lips to hers ardently, then reared back in shock at the taste of his own precum in her mouth and on her lips.

“Salty.” he whispered as if to himself before licking his lips and going back for more. “What do I need’to do?” he whispered urgently against her mouth as she rocked against him and he rocked back until they’d frustrated each other thoroughly with mere caresses.

“Put it in, my baby.” she whispered back.

“First though, don’t I need to-to do- something? Something first?” he could barely think straight but he’d heard enough talk about this, about gentlemen and the necessity of some form of chivalrous preparation. The way discipline and intuition set apart an average pilot from an excellent one. Bucky had talked a lot about getting girls ready, making them squirm, revving them up, for all his apparent disinterest during the topic, Gale had been listening.

“You’ve done it already, Mr. Jones.” she giggled, reaching between them to drag him more firmly through the wanton swamp he’d made of her. “I’m ready, I’m so ready.”

“Oh fuck, s’wet.” he mumbled the obvious before willingly letting her guide him in, his body following her tug like his cock were a leash.

“Jesus,— Gale!” Maureen choked as he bottomed out in a sudden plunge, shocked at the stretch despite the gauging of his size. “You’re so deep, oh baby you’re a big one aren't ya.”

“You ok?” he whimpered, shuddering on top of her again and again at the incomparable feeling of being inside another’s body.

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she gasped, “Hurts so good, you can move, baby.”

“You’re so warm.” he sounded close to worshipful he was so drunk off her, and Maureen spared a moment to smirk at the fate of man: come tearing their way out of a woman to begin their lives only to spend the rest of it trying to and needing to get back in.

He did try to move, she’d give him that. And while Maureen was more than half expecting it, still, it was mildly comical to see the confusion flash across his blissful face right as the buildup was snatched from him and he was suddenly shaking into the real event before he knew it, betrayed and euphoric all at once. The muscles in his belly and back and neck seized and his hips lunged in a series of uncoordinated pumps and she could read the panic in his eyes right before they rolled back -a begrudging admittance that this was nothing at all like the steady predictability of his hand.

“That’s it baby, that’s my baby, feel nice, huh?”

Gale didn’t answer her, too occupied whimpering with a taut throat and jaw clenched so tight he could snap a hinge like that. He was shaking worse than before when the spasms subsided and the tiniest pressure to his sweat slicked neck had him buckling to lay pressed against her, half senseless from the force of his release.

Maureen had always loved this part of sex, the pliable, bewildered, smushed man atop her like she’d sucked his soul out, when he’d rendered it up to her so willingly, so desperately, forcefully even, chasing his own eventual weakness. Long limbs aligning on top of hers, the hot pants of winded breath against her breasts, the hands listlessly holding on wherever that had last tried to grip and control her. The view from above with Gale Cleven was something additional, beautiful and glistening with bronzed swaths of sun exposed skin and the pale whites of his thighs and ass making a perfect little outline of absent shorts, his golden hair tousled beyond salvaging and that luscious mouth, drooling like a babe’s.

“So this is what Bucky’s been talkin’ about.” he mumbled into her breast, cheek smashed and enunciation shot to hell.

Maureen laughed in disbelief, “Thinking of him even now? Really, he’s going to be impossible if we tell him.”

“Just sayin’, now I know.” he defended, lazily rubbing his partly softened cock inside her with a shimmy of his hips that was quickly followed by an overly sensitive mewl.

“You don’t know anything, Angel boy.” she insisted and Gale raised his head at that, sour that she’d still contradict him after thirty seconds of vigorous pumping. “Let me see your hands.”

He had some trouble recalling where he put them but eventually he found them under her hips and withdrew them from their warm shelter to present them, warily. “Well, damn.” he muttered to himself, somewhat shocked by just how badly the shakes had worsened. “Looks like that treatment backfired.”

“More of a dose dependent case, I’d say.” Maureen corrected and circled each wrist with her hands and brought them up to her lips to kiss.

Gale’s face smoothed at her softness and a shy smile lit up his bleary eyes while she felt a twitch of his spent cock deep inside her, swishing about the mess he’d made like a dog’s tail after getting pats. “You have the most beautiful hands.” she informed him earnestly and balls deep inside her she watched as one single innocuous compliment sent him scarlet with a blush. “And they’ll be yours again soon.” she promised.

His gentle expression and bright red cheeks crumpled rather suddenly and before either of them seemed to expect it, fat teardrops had escaped the blue of his eyes and rolled down the crimson flesh of his face.

“Goddamnit.” he cursed hoarsely, in an absolute rage at himself, regaining his hands from her grip insistently to bring them up to his own face, hiding from her behind harsh fists that rubbed at his wet eyes like he could grind the grief and weariness out between his knuckles.

Unbalanced as he was without hands to support him, and legs gone jellied from his fast fading pleasure, Maureen chose to capitalize on it as a nurse would a brief state of insensibility to move a patient to a cleaner cot. Remorselessly she pressed at his shoulder and lifted their still joined hips until he tipped over, rolling onto his back beneath her. “We’ll have none of that.” she told him with loving adamance from her new perch, prying his hands away and pressing them to the sheets beside his head. “The hiding, I mean.” she clarified and he looked all of hardly past twenty laying there with wobbly lips and wet eyes unobscured, “I’m a very great proponent of crying,” she went on conversationally which confused him more but kept him too preoccupied to stifle his tears, “De-sanguination is still a highly esteemed practice, you know, it means to drain the body. One type of draining often triggers the other.”

“You gonna start bleeding me?” he asked wryly.

“Oh, maybe, you’d look so pretty all streaked up.” she teased and ran a sharp thumbnail over his pinned wrist.

Well, that got him hard again. Fascinating.

“You know what’s got your hands like this-“ she whispered softly, “-probably the same reason you flop, too.”

“Huh.”

“Pretty common.” she assured.

“Quit tellin’ me I’m common.” He growled, tickling her sides and she grabbed his hands, pinning them again playfully.

“Nothing common about you, sweet baby.” she swore, leaning down to kiss him and enjoying the way he met her strongly, surely, “Gale, can I move?” she asked, half strangled by the taut string of need coiled in her belly, tugged to madness by the bulk of him still resting limply inside.

“Move?” he was perplexed.

“I’m going to die if I don’t get some friction.” she whispered, somehow shy to admit that in the face of his innocent bewilderment, “God -please tell me someone has informed you women finish, too?”

“Bucky says they clamp up so tight you can’t help but blow.” Gale recited dutifully, “Which is what just happened, right?”

Maureen grinned wide and wicked before dragging her hips up till he was barely in, then plopping down into the cradle of his hips, making him let out a “oomph.”

“Maureen?” he questioned, half knowing already he had been mistaken but hell, to go again? “Maureen- I’ll die if we go again.”

“What a way to go.” she muttered, her pace atop him increasing as did the tortured gasps tumbling from his lips. His spunk was making terribly wet, lewdly sloppy sounds of suction each time she slammed down on his cock and the visual of her exerting herself on top of him was something so blatant and jiggly he could hardly endure the visual feast of it.

“Shit, shit I can’t-“ he growled while his trembling hands latched onto her hips in a grip that was anything but dissuading. “Maureen.” he begged her for…he knew not what.

“Come on Mr. Jones,” she clasped her hands around his face and aligned their noses, rubbing like a kiss with each movement of her lower body, “you’re not one to leave your missus needy, I know you’re not. Not when you’ve got such pretty hands-“

-a shudder from him.

“and a clever tongue-“

-a whine from him that sounded close to a wounded dog’s it was so lasting.

“-or a tool this capable.”

“Maureen.” he groaned.

“Baby, my baby.” she begged, “You’ve got what I need, come on, take me apart.”

Like he trusted himself for the first time since they began this endeavor, she felt his body bow up beneath her, his arm flexing strongly across her hips, his legs braced beneath her and a heavy hand clutching her neck, then he was driving up into her with a wild abandon she only ever hoped was simmering beneath that cool exterior. When she finished he hadn’t stopped, and Maureen found herself crying out like a feral thing into the hollow of his clavicle as the brutal pummeling went on, satisfaction drug out of her over and over in harsh ruts.

“That more like it?” he panted the harsher he grew, a hand around her jaw pushing her face away from his so he might see the damage he was doing.

“Yes, yes oh baby, yes!” she swore through clenched teeth, it had been too long and each blissful peak only aggravated her further, made her hungrier, that and the fact he was so proportioned as to be a constant delight just shy of pain, “Hell Gale, do ya hear us?” she gloated, propping herself back on his thighs to watch the shiny pink of him flash in and out of her wet sheath.

Mesmerized, Gale didn’t reply, but he dragged a hand up her belly and felt for the way it tensed at each intrusion, the span of his fingers an incredible thing across her skin. “Can’t believe you can take it, easy as that.” he marveled, his thumb straying and pulling apart her petals the better to watch.

“Thumb it right there.” she directed gently, reaching down to move his calloused finger over her bud, right above where he split her apart, “That’s it, ya feel that too, huh?”

“Fuck you’re tight.” his voice cracked and his eyes shot wide again.

“Are you -?”

“Maybe.” there was a wobble of blissed uncertainty in his voice until she stopped her movements and he let out a sob before he could catch it. “Maureen, please.”

“Please what, baby?” she was chuckling at him, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I let you-“ he pleaded, still thinking things worked that way, “-now I need, please Maureen...”

“Oh you can.” she assured and his face lightened but his eyes stayed wary, “But just know, I won’t be stopping.”

“What?”

“You remember how that feels, don’t ya baby?” she reminded, gently pushing him to lie back and beginning their movements anew, “So good you can’t stand it, so messy and easy for me, so tender and much for you?”

“Jesus.” he wheezed, his lean belly caving in with his heavy pants, but she felt him throbbing inside her and his pupils were large as saucers, “You’re as mean as Bucky.” he whined, voice gone high in panicked pleasure.

“Thank you, but really I’m not.” she laughed, gently thumbing away an errant tear that rolled down his cheek. “Not quite.”

“Maureen, please, please you’re too pretty!” he begged nonsensically even as his hips began to snap into hers, invigorated and forceful.

“Hold it Gale, try to hold it.” Maureen gasped, staring down at the prettiest face she’d ever seen as his brow began to furrow, “Or don’t, all the same to me.”

“I’m gonna flip you.” he swore and a few seconds of inaction passed, marked by the slam of her hips down onto his, and she thought he didn’t mean it until she gave him a daring look and suddenly she was careening backwards, head jolting against the sheets and body laid out firmly beneath him.

“Goddamn.” she swore at the way he hadn’t dislodged an inch during the whole maneuver, suddenly pressed just as deeply as before, his hips working like a piston and his hands tight and strong on her neck. “Goddamn baby. Oh goddamn that’s good.”

“S’good?” he begged her to repeat, some dizzying natural force propelling him harder and faster and needier.

“You’re so good.” she was adamant as she hung about his neck and locked her ankles in the small of his back. “You’re so good I’m - I’m -gonna-“

“What was that about holdin’ it?” he hissed, smile cocky and smug.

“Bull ain’t out of the gate yet Cleven,” she cautioned but her hips had begun to lift of their own accord, a tremble taking hold of her, “But I’m close, I’m, i'm real cl- oh God!”

“Come on sweet Maureen, wanna make ya -wanna do it for ya. Give ya what you need, Mrs Jones.” Gale’s hoarse and sweet nothings poured hot and breathy in her ear and Maureen found herself locked and gripping him before she knew it, moaning into his neck as he moved in and out, in and out as she’d only ever dreamed of.

When she cracked her dazzled eyes open again he was panting above her, the clink of his dog tags gently bumping her chin with each sway deeper, lashes batting in a golden flutter as he too began to lose himself, slower, more drawn out and yet every bit as desperate as the first time.

“Look at me baby, look at me when ya do.” she pleaded, gently gripping his chin as his mouth fell open in a series of little noises of effort that went straight to her belly grown hot and molten with the feeling of him spurting inside.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” Gale was working atop her in pained delight, lips so smeared and face so sweaty he looked like he might melt at any minute, “thank you, oh fuck, thank you, sweet Maureen.” he chanted low and dreamy, again and again until he drove in once more and stayed.

Those clear blue eyes fagged in an exhausted ecstasy, his head dropping impossibly further with each ragged pant until his face was barely hovering over her breasts, neck bent and forhead slowly pressing into the swell of them. His forearms gave out and those hands of his stayed trapped beneath her shoulder blades.

“Sleep Angel baby,” Maureen coaxed, hand cradling the back of his dear head to her breasts, feeling a low lazy peace settle over her at the feel of his dead weight plugging her up and the lovely wringing out she’d just endured, “let’s just sleep, dear boy.”

Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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@justheretoreadthhx

[bunnyreaper]

john price helping you renovate the house you just bought--he insists on helping you, whenever the two of you aren't deployed. 

(hcs + drabble, f!reader, mild 18+)

he knows the whole thing would go faster if he just invited the lads, but he wants the alone time with you even if he won't admit it. if you offer to ask them along too, he just assures you  that you can handle it between the two of you.)

thrives when you ask for his input on decorating the place, and he loves when you ask him to tag along to stores with you. he makes sure the DIY store guys don't underestimate you, ensures all the bathroom fittings will actually fit, gives you the best opinions on the paints you pick. never corrects any of the store owners when they assume you're a couple.

puts on an extra show when destroying or ripping down things. when you ask him to help you take down one of the false walls, he goes out of his way to let out extra little grunts and groans of effort, and flexes because he knows you're watching (and he hopes you're enjoying the show.) 

takes off his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his neck and face, doesn't bother putting it back on, leaving his hairy chest bare and the room full of the scent of his musk. a part of you secretly wishes he'd forget and leave it behind one day.

he catches you staring and smirking when he tucks a pencil behind his ear and looks like dad, gives you a wink. (and you definitely don't think about what it would be like if he knocked you up, and you were doing this all over again to decorate your kids nursery.)

as things come together, your mind starts to drift to what it would be like to christen even room in the house with john--fucking on the kitchen island, in the garden, by the fireplace, in the bedrooms. 

tries to do everything he can so you don't have to spend over the odds on tradesmen, or deal with strange men in your house, but he decides to leave the electrics alone after he gives himself a mild shock and you almost cry with worry. 

the two of you spend many a late night together, sat on a blanket eating pizza and drinking, with only each other's conversation for company--making memories you both treasure. 

"Probably should've put my shirt back on, I'm absolutely covered." John laughs, taking a glance down at his paint-splattered, sweat-sheened chest. 

Your eyes follow his, feeling like this is an invitation to stare uninhibited for once. The two of you have been painting for a while already, the room is insufferably hot in the summer even with the windows open--hence why John is taunting you with his figure. 

"You look like you've been down the pit." You gesture at the black specks littering his skin, and the smears all over his hands, his jeans, everywhere. John is sheer finesse in everything he does, besides painting and decorating, apparently. "But I'm not complaining about the shirtlessness."

The tension between the two of you has been escalating, and you feel brave enough to flirt just a little. From the smirk on John's face, he clearly doesn't have an issue with it. 

"Is that right?" He raises a brow, pausing his painting to turn to you with a burning, heavy look. 

Under the intensity of his gaze, you try to play it off just a little, because holy shit, he looks like he's going to eat you alive right now. "Every woman's dream, drooling over a shirtless tradie." You shrug, showing a pretense of apathy.

John now sets down his roller, his hands slipping into the back pockets of his jeans as he seems to be proudly displaying himself--his broad shoulders, rounded pecs and sculpted stomach that is the perfect mix of muscle and fat. 

You have to try not to openly drool as your eyes move down his happy trail. "Is that why you asked me to help?" 

"Asked you!?" You gasp, completely taken aback. "John, you insisted!" 

"You shouldn't be doing all this on your own, love." His posture relaxes as his smile turns earnest. 

You can't help but shake your head, thinking about how you could've had Gaz, Soap, and Ghost helping here too. "We could've had an army, literally." 

"Getting by fine just the two of us, aren't we?" 

"I don't know." You take a step forward as you notice a glob of black paint on John's face. "Your beard is covered too, by the way." 

Your hand finds its way to John's face with ease, forgetting any hesitation you should have about getting tactile with the man you have a forbidden attraction to. Instinct causes you to try and swipe the paint away, but your hands are already covered too. 

"Fuck." The paint is smeared over more of him than before--a black handprint on his neck where you'd held him still while you fussed. 

"What?" His forehead wrinkles, and you can feel his eyes on you as you try to make it better, but fail. 

"Made it worse..." You admit.

John only chuckles, his own paint covered hands finding their way to your cheeks, smearing you with matching globs of tar black.

His heated gaze is closer, his eyes flickering to your lips for a brief moment before he leans in and presses his to yours. 

It's searing, but over in a flash, as John's grin turns wicked and you try to continue standing upright. You're not sure if he's more pleased at the kiss, or the fact that his beard has covered you in even more stains of paint.

"Sorry." He mutters, yet he doesn't seem sorry in the slightest. His hands don't leave your face, and he leans in for another peck as he mumbles against your lips. "Only fair, love."

[erwinsvow]

not to derail at all but i see your kook!reader (cause I love it, and how catty she is) at midsummers and raise you, pogue!reader having to choose between jj and rafe, when the gang decide to ditch the party. she’s there as kie’s +1 and when the whole thing goes tits up reader is stuck between the guy she’s been crushing on for years or the kook king who clearly has the hots for her which she not against.

also, you are genuinely one of my fave writers on this hellsite 😍😍😍 notifications on and every thing

baby i am gonna sob you are SOOO nice. notifs on? i am so beyond flattered. i love u <33 this idea is GOLDEN oh my god the brainrot im having rn. im gonna try to write a little for you but i cant even put it into words

kiara said you'd make the whole thing a lot more bearable. plus, out of your little pogue group, you were her parents' unspoken favorite, so it just seemed natural for you to tag along to midsummers as her plus one.

and as much you loved your best friend and thought the world of her for inviting you, your heart was pounding your chest while you got ready in kie's bedroom, applying make up and curling your hair and putting on your best (and one of your only nice clothes) dress.

dolled up like this, you even looked the part of the kook princess that you were sure was rafe cameron's type.

even the idea of thinking about him, and impressing him or him seeing you like this, felt guilty. it made a painfully acrid taste shoot into your mouth and run through your blood—there was no one your friends hated more than the boy you'd had a crush on for as long as you can remember.

it was stupid, ever even talking to him, getting involved and sneaking off for late night drives in his truck and meeting up in hidden corners where no one else could see. that's all it was though, secret encounters and a few kisses.

you hadn't let it progress further, knowing how your friends would react, knowing how rafe is. you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to tell you you're just like your pogue friends that he hates so much. he doesn't, though, that's what makes this so much harder.

out of all your friends, the idea of one in particular finding out there was or had been or was going to be something between you and rafe made you feel dizzy and uncomfortable all over. jj was always your closest friend, always the one you relied on for everything—he had helped you countless heartbreaks and emotions and moments of doubt.

a small part of you had always thought the two of you would end up together. everyone joked about it, pope and john digging into him for carrying you home when you get too drunk or lost your shoes on the beach, kiara teasing you when she finds out jj slept over your place again.

the idea of either finding out about your attachment for the other made you feel queasy. walking into midsummers with kie, the hem of your yellow dress rustling near your thighs, you thought you were safe since only rafe would be there tonight. you thought wrong.

rafe is talking to you when jj shows up.

"y'look nice." you stare up at him, unsure of what to say. "what? now i can't say somethin' nice?"

"when do you ever say something nice?" you ask, but your smile reveals itself before you can hold it back. rafe looks at you like he could get used to seeing you like this.

"m'always nice to you. i don't know, kid, this is nice. y'should come to the club with me some time." you laugh, looking down at your shoes.

"i don't know about all that-"

"hey, you. mandatory power hour at rixon's. c'mon, princess." you turn to see jj, face bruised and knuckles bleedng. you look back at rafe, and he looks smug, it's only then you notice his messed up hair.

"jayj? what's going on?"

"rafe, i mean this in the most disrespectful way possible, go away. tryna have a talk with my girl here, so-" your face burns.

"m'sorry, your girl?"

"apology not accepted. so if you could direct yourself over there to fuck off, that would be fantas-"

"j, wha- what's going on? how long have you been here?"

"long enough for cameron over here to set his little lap dogs on me. c'mon, i'm getting kie and pope and then we gotta go-"

"but, i, i-" you stop yourself, to think about what to say, when rafe cuts you off again.

"she's not going anywhere, we're having a conversation that you interrupted, fuckin' pogue."

"botherin' pretty girls, yeah, that sounds about right. get it through your thick skull, bud, she's not interested-"

"um, guys-" rafe shrugs, staring back at jj.

"that's not what she said last night. or the night before. so how about you do yourself a favor-"

"fuck's he talking about, princess?" jj looks at you, and you look at him, and then rafe, head spinning.

"yeah, kid, the fuck is he talkin' about?"

the glass in your hand drops and shatters when you faint and fall over.

[princessbrunette]

I feel like if one of the twins is having a tantrum and jj is like so overwhelmed, would he call reader to calm them down or would he not? - 🤙🏼

before i dive into this i want to say i decided on the twins names. going off my own headcanon (i don’t wanna hear it) that jj stands for jesse james, im gonna say the twins have names taking inspiration from other figures too. jj’s little brother is called billy, named after another cowboy billy the kid (much like jesse james.) jj usually calls him bill for short, depending on his mood. jj’s little sister is called liv, or olivia — based on olivia newton john. her mother loved grease when it came out so it felt right. jj often nicknames her olive ‘cos it makes her laugh.

˖⁺‧₊🐭𝜗𝜚

but yes, sometimes it does just get too much for jj. as soon as you pick up the phone, you hear the wailing of two children in the distance— and before you even greet your boyfriend he’s rambling down the phone at you.

“hey, hi — you picked up, okay so— y’know i really hate to ask this of you i mean really, you’re not a babysitter by any means n’i don’t want you to think i just keep you around for — whatever, the issue is— i’m goin’ insane. both of these kids are screamin’ and i’ve tried everything man i just can’t do it—”

“jj, slow down. do you want me to come over?”

“please? i mean i’m not one to beg but i will literally get on my knees right now dude i can’t do it.”

“okay! i’m coming, just hold tight okay?”

they were both in hysterics when you arrived. there were toys all over the floor, a pair of pants, some food too. you step through the mess and find them, rolling about — screaming the house down whilst jj tries to intervene.

it turns out, billy was the first to get upset— and billy being upset and loud made liv get all overstimulated which caused a whole kerfuffle. you separated them, taking a child each and calmed them before putting them down to have an afternoon nap— knowing jj would need the peace and quiet for a little. once you’ve entered their shared bedroom and checked on them, you tip toe out to find jj sat on the couch amongst the mess with his head in his hands.

“theyre out cold, exhausted themselves i think.” you smile softly, easing yourself down next to jj. he jolts, like he didn’t know you were there and sits up suddenly, trying to be subtle about the way he wipes his eyes and sniffs, huffing out a bashful laugh.

“yeah.” he chuckles, cheeks splotchy and pink. you exhale out your nose, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you rub his back. “sorry it’s just, ah— one of those days or whatever. m’not cut out for this, man.”

“s’okay, jayj. it’s hard raising two kids that aren’t even yours. i think you’re doing good.” you muse and he shakes himself off, not wanting to get too vulnerable as he stands up— surveying the mess.

“yeah, it’s whatever. i should probably clean up around here, looks like a bomb went off at the lego store.” he sniffs, averting his eyes as he twists his body to look around. you stand, moving infront of him and placing both hands on his chest.

“or… i clean up, and you also take a nap.” you grin, tilting your head sweetly in a way you knew would help convince him.

“tempting, buuuuut i can’t let you do that, young lady. this is my very humble abode n’i gotta take care of it. so if i could just—” he goes to move you aside but you dodge him, standing your ground with a grin.

“well, you’re my boyfriend and i gotta take care of you. so now what?” you challenge and he huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head as he whips his hat off his head— slightly vulnerable still.

“i’ll have you know, i’m meant to be taking care of you, girlie.” he pokes your waist and you giggle, trying to force him back on the couch.

“you’re difficult.”

“rude, you’re sexy.”

you bust into quiet laughter, careful not to wake the kids as you finally manage to wrestle him back down on the couch, straddling his lap to make sure he stays down. “hm, i like where this is going.” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“its nap time. go to sleep.” you cover his eyes with your hands and he smirks, his lashes tickling your palms.

“effective method babe.”

˖⁺‧₊🐭𝜗𝜚

[huggybearluvr]

milestones | tz11

pairing:trevor zegras x drysdale!reader

summary: You and Trevor have been dating for almost 6 months now and have mostly been in the honey moon phase of your relationship. You have yet to get into any fights... until you go out to the bar with the team after their first win of the season.

Masterlist

You were stood beside trevor at the bar happily celebrating with the team. He was focused on his conversation with John Gibson. You tapped his shoulder to which he brushed you off with his hand.

You huffed walking to the bar to get yourself another drink. You then stayed there for a bit, not long after a large bearded man came over to you, "Hello there darling."

You simply waved to be nice before getting up to head back to the group. The man was quicker though, grabbing your arm.

"leaving so soon?" He asked with a a god awful smirk on his face.

You desperately tried to get Trevors attention but to no avail.

"I have a boyfriend," You said trying to free your arm from the mans grasp.

"Yeah, i've heard that one before, hasn't stopped me," He smirked even more.

"Let me go!" you argued. When the man only gripped your harm harder. You stepped closer to him, kneeing him in the groin. He quickly hunched over relieving your arm.

You went back to the group grabbing Trevors arm, "Trev!"

"what babe," He said annoyed.

You looked him dead in the eye about ready to slap the attitude out of him, "Can we please leave, that guy over there won't leave me alone and I feel so uncomfortable!"

"Maybe in an hour just stay over here," He said turning back to his conversation.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" You had raised your voice at this point. You angerly walked away. You spotted your brother at the bar getting a new drink.

"Jamie, will you please take me home," You said as your eyes began to slowly gaze over.

"Of course, what happened?" He asked as he led you over to the table to get your jackets.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now, please can I stay at your house tonight?"

He nodded taking your hand and leading you out of the bar.

Once you made it to Jamies apartment you explained what had happened to him.

"I swear, Trevor is a fucking idiot." Jamie said angered by his best friends actions towards you, "I'm gonna call him."

"Please don't Jaim," you looked at your older brother with pleading eyes.

"Alright, you sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch," he spoke softly.

"Thank you," You smiled hugging your brother before heading off to Jamies room.

-----

It had been about 2 hours before a wag mentioned your disappearance to Trevor.

"Hey, do you know where y/n is?" The wag asked Trevor.

"I don't know, she's around here somewhere." Trevor responded.

"We've all been looking for her, she's not here Z." The wag said in a serious tone this time.

"What do you mean she's not here." Trevor now began to worry.

He called you and texted you no answer.

He called Jamie and on the 5th ring it answered.

"What do you want Z?"

"Do you know where y/n is? No one has seen her."

"It took you two hours to realize I took her home? your an asshole Z you know that?"

"Why'd you take her home? Why is she at your place?"

"Are you that fucking clueless? She came to you with a legit problem and you ignored her, you ignored her the whole night."

"I didn't mean too" Trevor tried to defend himself but it was no help.

"Sure you did bud." and with that Jamie hung up.

Trevor quickly called and uber to head to Jamies and talk to you.

Once he arrived he knocked rapidly on the door til Jamie answered.

"She doesn't wanna talk to you." He said sternly.

"Please can I just see her?"

"It's okay Jaim." You said softly standing in the living room facing the door.

"Fine," Jamie rolled his eyes but followed your wishes letting Trevor in.

"I'll be in my room," Jamie said leaving to head to his room.

"baby, im so sorry, you know how I get after hockey games," Trevor argued.

"So your making excuses?"

"No forget I said that, Im so genuinly sorry I didnt listen when you told me about the guy, It was fucked."

He stepped closer to you, grabbing your hands, "Baby im sorry, please forgive me," He said looking at you with pleading eyes, "Let me take you back home."

You rolled your eyes before smiling, "Fine."

"thank god!" Trevor said before leaning down and kissing you. You pulled away smiling.

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

I’m spilling over my thoughts on Nona the Ninth and John’s behavior and here’s the thing, John has always had good intentions; but good intentions are not enough. You have to listen. It’s not about the help you want to give, it’s about the help someone needs to get.

There’s the surface layer of “John dumped Earth’s soul into a Barbie doll” of like “of course a man dumped a woman’s soul into a Barbie” but to stop there is, no. We’re doing the man the myth the legend a disservice. It’s so much worse. Because he doesn’t want Alecto like that. He doesn’t want her in a sexy way. It’s not about the Barbie. It’s about the toy. He says, I wanted Galatea, I wanted a Christmas tree fairy, I wanted a Renaissance angel. I wanted an icon, I worshipped you, I thought you were the most splendid thing that ever existed, the only way I could wrap my head around you was to frame you in every concept I had of beauty and power. But I did all that because I wanted to have you. “It’s human nature to want something.” That’s the only excuse he gives for eating the Sun. “It’s human nature to take.” EATING THE SUN. DOOMING THE SOLAR SYSTEM. “I wanted it. I took it. It’s human nature to take.” He had to put her in a body because he was scared she would get away. “I thought you would escape before I was done.” He thought of Hollywood Hair Barbie not because that was his ideal of beauty and sex and not even just because that was his favorite possession but because that’s the relationship he wants to have with her. “She got to have all the adventures.” He wants to be with the Earth! He wants to have adventures with it! He wants it to be his. He wants it. “It’s human nature to take.” It’s not about fitting Alecto into a body, it’s about fitting Alecto into a story. 

First he wants her to be his companion, his solace, his other half; then he wants her to be Alecto the avenging Fury, the devil, the beast, his unmaking; then he wants her to be Annabel Lee, buried by the sea, the tragic lost love whose grief he must always carry; but it’s always about the story he’s writing in his head. Why do kids catch butterflies? They see this beautiful, fascinating thing, and they love it, and they want it, and so they need to have it. To catch it so it doesn’t get away. John had to chain Alecto because she might get away. She was a liability. She held too much of his heart, metaphorically, and his soul, literally, and he couldn’t stand the idea of not having her. What if he chained Alecto because she wanted to leave? Or, worse, because she wanted to go back? What if Earth was doing a lot better now, a few centuries on, and she was tired of being meat? And John just couldn’t stand the idea of losing her? “It’s human nature to take.” It’s human nature to love, and to not want to let go of what you love, and to take it, to make sure it can’t leave, because you can’t risk the idea that it might not love you back. It might not want to be part of your story.

Compare that to Nona’s life. The very first time we meet Nona’s caretakers, they’re listening to her. Camilla turns on the recorder and asks Nona to describe her dream, and then listens. That scene so wonderfully establishes what’s the most important about Nona’s life: she has people who take care of her, protect her, but also leave room for her. Pyrrha and Cam and Pal order her around. They keep secrets from her. They do things that might harm her right now or go against her wishes and justify it as being for her protection. They use her, too: they’re listening and watching to see what she might become, to know how she might play a role in their war. They do everything John does to his lyctors. The difference is, they also listen to her. They don’t make her follow the story in their heads. They change themselves to accommodate her, the way they expect her to change to accommodate them. Nona doesn’t always get what she wants, because often it isn’t good for her. The people raising her need to keep her safe and fed and well. They don’t take orders from her. But they listen to her. 

And Nona tells them. Nona doesn’t want to be a Renaissance angel, she wants her hair in braids and a cheeseburger t-shirt. John would have given Alecto every thing of great beauty and power, every thing he thought might ever be appropriate to the grandeur he’d built in his mind, but he would never have bought her a shirt from Salt Chip Fish Shop. Pyrrha doesn’t give her anything of beauty and power. Pyrrha makes Nona eat her eggs because she needs food to keep that human body going, even though Nona whines and complains and demands pikelets and birthday gifts; Pyrrha says, eat your eggs, because it’s good for you, and go to school, because it’ll keep you occupied, and don’t come to my dig site, because it’s dangerous for you. Then Pyrrha sells her cigarettes for cash to bribe someone, sure, but what do you want to bet some of that money also went to buy the pikelet mix she makes for Nona the next day, and the shirt she buys for Nona’s birthday too? She doesn’t give Nona exactly what she wants, because Nona is a child and needs protection and guidance. But she doesn’t give the gifts she wants to give; she gives the gifts she knows Nona wants to get. She listens.

And that’s what saves them all. Blood of Eden wants Nona to be Harrow, or Gideon, or both, or a lyctor; an ally, an enemy, something they understand, and if they’d been able to force that on Nona things would have probably gone catastrophically wrong. Instead Pyrrha, Cam, and Pal let her tell them who she is. Tell me your memories. Try out this sword. What do you think about bones? And as much as they want her (or don’t want her) to react to those things, to have certain answers, they listen to the ones she actually gives and react accordingly, and that saves them from making the terrible mistake of not realizing her true identity.

Now finally look at Harrow, handed, over and over again, everything she could ever want: power, immortality, freedom, family, god’s favor, answers, even a way to finally win the love she believed impossible. And all she has to do is take. Take Gideon Nav’s soul. Freely offered! Again and again! All she has to do is take it. And she won’t. She will not take, not even what’s given to her. She won’t take the help of the other Houses because she thinks it will destroy the Ninth - because they won’t listen to the Ninth, even as they help it. She won’t take Gideon Nav’s soul because she won’t take another life to save her own. She will not concede the idea that power can only be gained by one by taking from another. She will not privilege her story above others. She will not say, it’s human nature to take. That’s why Alecto loves her. That’s why she’s going to kill God. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[runnning-outof-time]

Thanks for sending another GIFt my way, Cia!! 🥰 I know I say it every time, but these little surprise presents put the biggest smile on my face! I decided to write a little something with John on this one because I’m currently in Tommy land with my requests and wanted a little break. I…I’m not quite sure what it is, but it was fun to write. Enjoy!

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Stop Showing Them!

John Shelby

Warnings: death-threats jokingly made

(Y/N) gets the embarrassment of a lifetime when she finds her boyfriend showing his family her childhood pictures.

“What’re we all doing in here?” Tommy Shelby questioned as he entered the living room of his family home to see that it was packed with people.

“Come take a look at this, Tom!” John waved him over with one of his hands while the other balanced the large book he was holding.

“What’s that?” the older of the two questioned, his eyebrows furrowed as he moved to his brother’s side. It didn’t take him long to realize that what John was holding was a picture book, full of pictures of a young girl. He couldn’t help but laugh at some of the things John was explaining to him.

“And you see this one is…”

“What have you got there, John?” (Y/N)’s voice came from the archway to the kitchen, cutting John off and making the room go silent.

“Nothing…” John trailed off, shutting the book quickly, making it let out a loud clap.

“John…” she looked at him with a deadpan stare, like a predator that had eyes set on its prey.

“There ain’t nothin’ in this book, love,” he insisted, trying to smoothly transfer both his hands and the book behind his back. His attempts failed though, so he just awkwardly held it at his side, like a schoolboy would hold his materials between classes.

“Then why are you hiding it? Hmm?” she questioned him, popping her right hip out so that she could rest her hand on it, her eyebrows raising as she did so. John let out a sheepish chuckle, looking down at the ground as he nervously scratched his top lip with his thumb. “John Michael Shelby, tell me what’s inside that book,” she demanded now, her voice flat.

“I’d give it up, John, before you make things any worse,” Polly suggested from where she was sitting, an amused smirk present as she watched the couple go at it.

“She’s going to give you hell if you don’t tell her, John,” Ada added in, also invested in the situation that was unfolding.

John looked from his aunt and sister to his brother, who was still standing by his side. He hoped that Tommy would have some guidance, but he knew he was on his own the second the elder Shelby sibling raised both of his hands. “This isn’t my war,” he mumbled, unable to stop himself from chuckling at his younger brother’s misfortune. John sure knew how to get himself into the worst of situations. He was going to have to get out of this one by himself.

“Well?” (Y/N) asked again, waiting for him to give her an answer.

“Your mum gave it to me…the last time we visited her,” he offered some details, but not the ones (Y/N) was looking for.

“What’s in the book, John?”

“It may or may not be pictures from when you were younger,” he spoke quickly and in a low voice as he scratched the back of his neck, hoping all of the things he was doing would have made it hard for her to hear him.

“You’re kidding,” she gasped, telling him that she heard his words loud and clear as she rushed over to grab the book out of his hands. “John!” she shrieked as she flipped through it, seeing all of the embarrassing portraits that had been taken of her throughout her younger years. She immediately knew that this was the book that her mother had kept of all of the ‘mess-ups’; of all of the purposefully terrible pictures.

“It was your mum who gave it to me,” he stated, holding his hands up in surrender while trying hard to conceal the grin that was threatening to break onto his features.

“I can’t believe you went and showed them to your family though!” she exclaimed, trying (and failing terribly) to not let her flustered nature show.

“It was so hard not to,” he defended himself.

Arthur and Michael walked into the house then, and were immediately confused by the situation that greeted them. “What’s going on in here?” Arthur was the one to ask.

“(Y/N)’s got some pictures from when she was younger…she was just showing them to us,” John stated, a smug grin now present as he gave them a botched description of what was going on.

“No, that is absolutely not what was going…John!” she stopped herself when John took the book from her hands and began walking over to where the other two men were standing.

“Wanna see them?” he asked, glancing behind him and hurrying up his step when he saw that she was following him.

“Stop showing them!” she exclaimed, smacking his shoulder and grabbing the book back from his hands just as he started showing them the photographs. “I’m going to kill you, John Shelby…and I’m going to use this book to do it! Ugh!” she exclaimed, wielding the book as she showed him what she meant.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s told me that, sweetheart,” John brushed her statement off, grinning at her.

“I can’t believe you,” she huffed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as a smile tugged the corners of her lips upwards.

———

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @valentinabloom @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite

MASTERLIST

[intimacyequalsdeath]

A Father's Love (If you can call it that)

The reader is gender neutral but is John Kramer's child. Kramer's kid and Hoffman have been in a secret relationship that they think Kramer doesn't know about until he decides to cross a line and test Hoffman's Loyalty to you in the only way John Kramer knows how.

Notes: Minors DNI, No smut but not SFW. Gender neutral reader with no major pronouns used, probably a random they/them scattered throughout.

Your head pounded as your eyes cracked open. Your head felt heavy as you raised it up to peer around the room you had come too in. The room looked all too familiar to rooms you had seen in your father's traps.

You felt yourself freeze when an old model tv that you hadn't yet noticed in the corner of the room lit up. A grainy image of your father's puppet coming into view as you were suddenly met with two ugly truths.

Your head, felt heavier then usual due to the fact you were strapped into what your father referred to as a reverse bear trap. Something you had only ever seen in his drawings and models but never seen in action. A trap your boyfriend, his apprentice, Mark Hoffman has also come face to face with a time before that he didn't like to talk about.

The second ugly truth was the fact that you were now front and center in one of your own fathers traps. You thought yourself to be safe as John Kramer's only living child, surely blood is thicker then water, right?.

You felt tears well up in your eyes as the puppet on screen began to talk directly to you.

"Hello Y/n, my beloved child" It started, your own fathers voice echoing through your ears, you still couldn't bring yourself to think he'd actually do this to you.

"For this last year you and detective Mark Hoffman have been hiding something from me. I have given you two all the time to come to me with this so we can sort things out but that offer has come up empty."

Your blood ran cold, your father knew about you and Mark? Where even was Mark? was your father testing him too?

"Therefore I have decided that it is time to test the both of you, so I can see where Mark's loyalties truly lie when it comes to you. Mark has been placed somewhere in the basement of this building and will have 30 minutes starting now to find you and use the key on the inside of the door to set you free from the bear trap."

Your eyes flicked to the red timer over top of the door now reading 29 as the time ticked down from 30. With the bear trap in your mouth you weren't able to scream to help Mark find you. Your father knew exactly what he was doing.

"If Detective Hoffman fails to find you within the 30 minutes, the trap will go off putting an end to your and Hoffman's secret rendezvous and telling me everything I need to know about Detective Hoffman"

You started to sob around the trap, Your hands balling into fists as much as the restraints would let you. Somewhere in the distance you could hear Mark barreling through the house while yelling your name.

The tape clicked off as your eyes focused on the timer steadily ticking down above the door. The image was blurred through your tears but you could make out a 25. Five minutes had already passed as you were trying to keep yourself from panicking.

Your father had told you once, that most of the people he had trapped their downfall wasn't him. It was the fact that they panicked. Your eyes began scanning the room for something you could try and knock over to indicate to Mark which room you were in.

You noticed a rolling cart that was in kicking distance and the fact that your legs weren't restrained. This is exactly what your father wanted to happen you thought. You kicked the rolling cart as hard as you could and sent it into the stand that the tv was sitting on, Knocking the tv over and breaking it.

"Y/n? Baby?!" You could hear Mark yell from somewhere much closer then before, It had worked, Mark was getting closer.

Your eyes quickly scanned for something else you could use to make more noise as you heard Mark's footsteps towards what you could only assume was the end of the hallway. Your flicked up to check the time the clock above the door read 15 minutes left, you had to hurry and get mark here.

Your eyes met an old standing lamp in reach of your chair. Without hesitating you lifted your foot up and smashed it as hard as you could. Knocking the lamp over and breaking the shade and bulb inside of it.

"Y/n!" You heard Mark yell as his footfalls stopped outside the door you were in. You let out a muffled scream hoping to whatever god that he heard you.

Your prayers were answered as with three giant crashes he had broken through the door and spilled into the room. His eyes met yours as the relief of seeing you and anger at your father washing over him. He started to approach you but you shook your head and frantically motioned to the key hanging by the door.

Mark, having worked with your father before, picked up what you meant and turned to look for the key. Your eyes caught a red 10 flash above the door as Mark frantically looked, his fingers finally finding the cold metal of the key to the trap.

The clock red 8 minutes when he finally made his way over to you and slipped the key into the lock of the trap on your head. Disconnecting it from you and throwing it across the room.

Your sobs and the sound of Mark trying to calm you down as he untied you from the chair were the only things heard in the room after the clock had stopped ticking. Once you were untied Mark sat back on the floor as you slipped from the chair into his lap as he held you.

"It's ok sugar I promise" He shushed you "shhh Baby your safe now, I got here in time, You made noise to tell me where to go and I got here in time baby"

You buried your head in his neck as he rocked the two of you back and forth as your sobs died down.

"M-my dad" your voice broke as you talked "H-he was gonna kill me Mark" You brought your head from his neck and your eyes met his as fury washed over them at your father.

"I know sugar, He told me on my tape what he did, How he's known about us for a year and this is what we were getting for not telling him, he didn't tell me what trap you were in so I didn't know you couldn't scream for me and let me know where you were" He told you as he brought his hands up to cup your face and used his thumbs to dry your tears.

You put your hands over top his as you closed your eyes to try and take in everything that had transpired over the last 20 or so minutes. If your dad thought everything after this was just going to go back to normal he was wrong, so very wrong and you were almost certain Mark felt the same.

'What's that?" You heard Mark ask, You opened your eyes to see him Looking at the chair you were strapped to. You turned and followed his line of site to see a tape player taped to a leg of the chair.

One placed just perfectly that you wouldn't have noticed it while you were still sitting in the chair. Mark brought you into him once again, holding you to him with one arm while the other reached for the tape player and ripped it from the leg of the chair.

He leaned back once again and pressed the play button. The two of you waited as you heard crackling followed once more by the voice of your father.

"If the two of your are listening to this tape then that means Mark has successfully found you and disarmed the trap" You shut your eyes and leaned against Mark as he scoffed at your fathers words.

"Now I can reveal to the two of you, that had Mark failed in finding you the trap would not have gone off when the timer ran out. What you are wearing is a prototype that still doesn't work. A simply for show model if you will"

You looked up at Mark as you felt him begin to shake with anger that your father would not only make you think you were about to die but toy with you by using a fake trap.

"I'm sure the two of you are none to happy with my decision to do this. But as a father I needed to test the loyalty that you, Detective Hoffman have for my child. Mark's urgency to get to you and disarm the trap before it went off whether it was fake or not shows not only the respect he has for me and my traps to not for a second think they were fake or a joke but the loyalty and urgency he has to protect my child even if it means nearly costing him his life as in the basement he ran into various traps himself."

"What traps were in the basement Mark?" You asked him, He shook his head running a hand through your hair.

"Don't worry about it honey, worry about whether or not I'm going to kill your father for doing this to you" He said as the tape continued.

"There are a set of keys I placed inside the tv for the front door of the house so you two may leave and come back to the warehouse so we can discuss this further. I want to fully explain my reasonings of why I did this to the two of you even though I do not expect that to quell your anger at all. I will see the two of you when you return to the warehouse" the tape cut off.

Mark jerked his arm throwing the player against the wall and smashing it into millions of pieces of the cheap plastic it was made out of. You curled back into Mark, the last thing you wanted to do was go and face the man who had done this to you even if that man was your father.

"What are we gonna do Mark?" You said quietly.

"I don't know honey, I honestly don't have a fuckin clue" He replied holding you ever so slightly tighter.

"The only thing I do know is things aren't going to go back to the way they were, not after what that motherfucker did to you. No way" He seethed, You nodded in agreement.

Your father had crossed a line tonight. The burning of a bridge had begun and if it was up to Mark it would never be fixed.