#i love how bob ducked but still got hit

[pinkbumblebees]

i love these gifs so much😭 THEYRE SO SILLY

[mikkomacko]

What about some more drunk reader with either drunk Nico or sober Nico thoughts??? The heart eyes in the room are crazyyy

“More cherries.”

“I put four in there already.”

“But on top Nico, like up there.”

“They’re just gonna sink baby.”

“No they’ll float,” you insist, feet swinging and banging into the side of the bar.

Nico adds a couple more cherries to your cocktail, snorting when they do in fact sink to the bottom of the glass.

“Whoa,” you murmur, hunching over to watch them gather with the other four cherries he dropped in. “How’d ya do that?”

He blinks at you, brain bogged down by the drinks he’s consumed tonight. The question goes forgotten, at least by you because all you can think about now are how pretty Nico’s eyes are. So dark they seem to sparkle, framed by the most beautiful eyelashes you’ve ever seen. They’re so expressive too, always giving away his inner thoughts before he’s even uttered them.

“Physics.” He finally says, more like a question than an actual answer.

“What?”

Nico blinks again, confused. “What?”

“Can I have my drink?”

That snaps him out of it, grinning proudly as he presents you with whatever vodka-cherry concoction he’s put together. You take the glass in two hands, gulping down a mouthful and Nico leans against the bar top, propped up on his elbow.

“I used to be a bartender ya know?” He puffs his chest out, free hand finding your knee and squeezing teasingly.

“Yeah?” You ask, licking at the sticky cherry juice on your lips.

“Mhm,” he hum, fingers trailing up your thigh. “All the ladies came here for me.”

Your impressed looks falls, jealousy taking its place and you take another drink. This time the cherry flavor lingers on a pout rather than a smile, your gaze casted down at your dwindling drink.

“But none of them got extra cherries,” he adds, leaning in until his nose presses into your cheekbone. Still unimpressed, you just hum.

“Only you get special treatment baby.”

Nico presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, pulling back when your face lights up in a smile and you meet his gaze again.

“Just me?”

His head bobs lazily. “Mhm, only girl I let sit on my bar top too.”

Flattered and heart fluttering, you giggle like a schoolgirl, leaning into him. He’s quick to wrap his arm around you, ducking to peck at your sugary lips.

“Wanna hear a secret?” You whisper drunkenly, and he’s lighting up with intrigue, eyebrows raising and bottom lip tucking between his teeth. You motion him closer, wait for his breath to hit your neck and shoulder.

“I fucked you on this bar top.”

Nico snickers, immediately pulling back with a big, toothy grin. “That’s not a secret.”

“Sure it is.”

“But I already knew it.”

“Did you though?”

He giggles, running a hand through his messy hair. “Mhm, especially since I was the one doing most of the fucking.”

You frown. “Then who is a secret from.”

“Us,” someone grumbles, and you look over to find Timo and Jonas behind the bar, fresh drinks in hand. “It was a secret from us.”

“When did you guys get here?” You ask, fingers digging around in your glass for a cherry.

“We literally walked over here with you,” Timo chuckles. “We’ve been here for this whole conversation.”

Simultaneously, you and Nico look at each other in shock. He’s so cute it makes you giggle though, and then he’s laughing too, collapsing into your body.

“Do you think they heard me?” You whisper to Nico, nudging him with your foot.

Panting, he pulls back from your shoulder, eyes all moony and full of love. “No baby, I don’t think so.”

“Oh good.”

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.3

“You know, you could try actually folding your clothes.” I lean against the doorframe as I watch Liam struggle to keep the pile of sweatshirts from falling over and landing on the floor.

On the other side of the room, Kieran balances precariously on a chair while trying to tape his drawings to the wooden panelling. “He could, but then he’d just be setting unrealistic expectations for the rest of the year.”

Liam abandons the clothes, distracted by a basketball. “You’re just salty because you got the desk where the drawer sticks.”

“I give you both a month before everything in here sticks.”

“Eww, Juju, don’t be gross.” Kieran laughs and jumps off the chair, just as Liam launches the ball straight at me with a grin. I manage to duck, letting out a half-giggle, half-yelp.

The ball barely misses me, and continues straight through the open door. My eyes widen in panic, already imagining it hitting some poor unsuspecting person – or worse, something expensive.

Instead, there’s a soft thud as the ball is perfectly caught in my mother’s outstretched hands.

“Really, Liam?” she says, her tone carrying that mix of exasperation and amusement my brothers always seem to evoke.

Behind her, my father rubs his forehead. “I see you’re feeling right at home already. The campus tour is about to start. Will you be joining us, Julia?”

“No, I’m going over to Foxbury to meet a friend since I’m here anyway.”

Kieran pulls me into a hug. “Foxbury? Don’t tell me you’re fraternising with the enemy?”

“None of your business, boogerface.”

He doesn’t let me go straight away. “Love you, Juju. We’ll see you at home for Winterfest, right?”

I squeeze him tightly, fighting the burning sensation behind my eyes.

“Of course. Love you too.”

Most people have already left the party, but some are still dancing even though the volume of the music is significantly lower than a few hours ago. It’s getting late and the bright lights from the DJ booth swirl like melted neon in the dark when I move my head.

Marten leans against the wall, his cheeks a bit flushed. “So, what do you think so far?”

I shrug. “Honestly? It’s pretty much what I expected. I’m not sure this is the best learning environment though, it’s a bit chaotic.”

Marten grins. “Yeah, I guess this isn’t exactly representative of the more academic side of things.”

“Are you saying there won’t be beer pong and a DJ during all lectures?”

“You won’t find out unless you enrol.”

I shove him playfully and he almost stumbles.

“Hey, easy there, breakdancing isn’t until the midterms.”

“Oh, then I’m definitely out, sorry. Different learning styles and all that.”

“Pity. I really think you’d do well here.” There’s something like disappointment in the way he says it. I lean closer and turn his face towards me.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me here for more… selfish reasons?”

It’s meant as a joke, or at least I think it is, but my chest feels strangely tight and my voice is husky, barely audible over the music.

Marten’s eyes become much too serious, and I can’t look away.

“I want you to do whatever you want to do.”

His words hang in the air between us, heavy and charged. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and for a second I expect him to break character and laugh it off as usual, but his hand reaches up, fingers lightly brushing along my arm. I can feel the heat radiating from him against my cool skin and the contrast gives me goosebumps.

I take a deep breath. He’s standing so close, his blue eyes locked on mine, waiting, almost daring me to make the first move.

“Jules…”

His gaze drops to my mouth, and I don’t let him finish. I close the space between us, pressing my lips to his. The kiss is warm, delicate – almost too delicate for how much tension has built up between us. But then, Marten puts his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me in closer, and the kiss deepens.

There’s nothing playful about him now. His lips are firm, commanding, and there’s a raw hunger in the way he kisses me, like he’s been waiting for this moment for a long time and now he can’t get enough.

It’s incredibly arousing.

My body is trapping him against the wall, and I can taste the faint remnants of beer on his lips, but more than that, I can sense his desire, his determination. His heart is racing and there’s a slight bulge in his jeans already. He’s clearly not as unaffected as he usually pretends to be.

We break the kiss for just a moment to catch our breaths, and I desperately try to regain some sort of control over the situation. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually want me.”

A grin spreads across his face. His hand stays on my waist, holding me close in a way that feels possessive, and he looks at me with that intensity that makes my heart skip.

“Want you? Fuck, Jules, I never wanted anything the way I want you. If you could read my mind every time I look at you, you wouldn’t be here, you’d have run away long ago.”

“Is that so? You know, you never showed me your room.”

“How very rude of me.”

He kisses me again. As he takes my hand and we walk towards the doors, someone cheers drunkenly, but I don’t care. In a way, the fact that everyone probably knows exactly where we’re going only makes me more excited.

Marten’s room looks more or less like I expected. Typical boy’s room, a few empty cans and dirty dishes, his computer featured prominently. A small robot stares at me, its eyes glowing creepily in the dark. Marten rests a hand on my thigh, and I wish he’d continue kissing me, but he doesn’t. He just looks at me, studying my face.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you here,” he says, his voice low, teasing, as he runs his thumb over my lip and I shiver, desperate for him to do more. But it’s like he’s savouring the moment. The way he kissed me felt like he’d been waiting for this forever, but now he’s in no rush.

“Really? I honestly thought you weren’t interested. You kept insisting we were just friends.”

“We are. Were. And I wasn’t sure you’d be looking for a nerd who’s into robots and talks too much just after dating… a celebrity.”

I appreciate that he doesn’t say the name, I don’t want to be reminded of that right now. I gently shove him backwards.

“It’s true, you do talk too much.”

“Can’t help it, you’ll just have to shut me up.”

I kiss him again, and his hands finally start exploring my body.

“You’re so fucking sexy”, he breathes, and it feels like electricity coursing through me. I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on.

I’m straddling his thigh, moving my hips desperately to get as much friction as possible. His erection is poking into my hip and he breathes in sharply each time I rub against him.

Neither of us is going to last long like this and I wish he’d hurry up and just fuck me, but he seems determined to tease me, see how far he can push me.

My patience runs out. I sit up, tearing off my top. There’s a small snap as the elastic band in my hair breaks and flies off into the darkness. Marten smirks and throws his own t-shirt to the floor after it.

We’re both frantic now, and when he reaches out to grab a condom from a drawer, I realise with a twinge of shame that I hadn’t even thought of that. Some daughter of a doctor I am.

Then he’s inside me, and I forget everything else. The friction from riding his thigh already brought me close, and we’re both surprised by how quickly I come. But I’m still wired up and I want more, bucking my hips against him, meeting every thrust while I wonder if his housemates can hear us.

Soon, too soon for my liking at least, Marten throws his head back and groans, moving in and out a few more times before collapsing on me.

Still breathing heavily, he rolls off.

“Fuck, Jules, that was… You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Maybe you should have let me know sooner.”

“I didn’t have to,” he says with a crooked smile, “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

I nestle into his arms, feeling content. Wanted.

When Marten speaks again, his voice is low, drowsy, he’s almost falling asleep.

“I can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

My stomach flutters, and I let myself sink into his certainty.

Maybe this could turn into something great.

Maybe it already is.

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[barleyo]

Your Miguel x Reader fic was so freaking good!! I'd love to read more from you, especially Miguel x Shy!Reader (the personality of y/n kinda ressembles mine lol)! Anyways, thank you so much and keep up the great work!

Next Time.

(Miguel O'Hara X Fem! Reader)

A/N: Sorry, this is just a drabble and isn't nearly as long as my OG fic, but I hope you still enjoy it! Feel free to send a request to my inbox, as my requests are always open.

“No, no, no,” (Y/N) sighed, staring at the broken glass shards in front of her. 

She had been getting better, she really had. With careful supervision by Miguel and a steady hand, she had been able to limit her accidents. However, her clumsiness seemed to always lurk, waiting to strike at the most inopportune time. 

“Okay, maybe I can just pick them up,” she whispered to herself. Carefully, she wiped at the pieces, sweeping the smaller pieces into a nearby waste basket. 

“Everything okay over here?” He walked over, leaning onto her workstation just as she finished grabbing a final large piece of glass. She quickly palmed the piece, clenching it behind her back. “Thought I heard something break, no?”

“No, no, nothing is going on over here, just, uhm, cleaning up. I’m just about to pack up and head home for the day.” (Y/N) squeaked, feeling the shard slice her palm with a sharp sting. 

“Whatever you say,” he said. Unconvinced, Miguel turned around, pretending to walk away. 

Once he made it a few paces away, (Y/N) pulled her hand back around and paled at the blood dripping down her palm. The glass was lodged right in the middle of her palm, jaggedly stuck into it. 

“I knew it,” he groaned, snatching her hand away, “look at how bad that is. Are you kidding me? Come here.” He dragged her out to the hallway until she started to shake him off.

“You’re embarrassing me  in front of everyone, Miguel. Stop, I promise, it’s not nearly that bad, it’s okay! Promise!”

“If it’s not that bad, why were you hiding it? Why is it bleeding? Damn it, you have glass stuck half an inch deep into your hand. Come, now.” He gently swooped her up into a messy bridal-style hold, carrying her into the break room. 

He sat her down on the counter right next to the sink, legs hanging over the side. 

“Duck.”

She bobbed her head down in compliance as he dug through the cabinet behind her, pulling out gauze, tweezers, and disinfecting liquid. Taking the tweezers, he attempted to pull the glass out, wiggling it slightly until it dislodged itself for her palm.

“I just don’t get it,” he sighed frustratedly, “why wouldn’t you just tell me you got hurt?”

“I didn’t want to tell you, I don’t know,” she wiped her face with her uninjured hand, “I was just doing so well, and I messed it up when I broke that beaker.” 

“But why?” He opened the bottle and looked up to meet her eyes, “Hold onto my hand, this will sting.” He drenched the wound and (Y/N) squeezed down onto his hand, digging her nails into it. 

“I guess I didn’t want you to be upset with me, I thought you’d be mad,” she said through gritted teeth. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, claro que no. Well, no, yes, I am a bit upset with you. You hurt yourself instead of just telling me and letting me help. I would have cleaned it up for you, you know.”

“I thought you were tired of picking up after me.” 

Miguel wrapped her hand up in gauze, keeping it taut and compression-like. “I did say that, didn’t I? I lied.” He let go of (Y/N)’s hand, lifting the back of it up to his lips. “I’ve missed it a bit. My days feel empty when I do not have a little (Y/N) mess to deal with. Makes me feel useful. Feel better?”

“Yeah, I’m alright now. Thanks, Miguel.”

“Hmph,” he turned her hand around, now placing kisses on her bandaged palm. 

“What are you doing?” She giggled as his hair hit her arm while he peppered kisses over her hand.

“I’m just kissing your boo-boo, mi tesoro, let me work.” He smirked into her hand, knowing he was embarrassing her.

“You don’t have to– mm,” she hummed as he made his way up her arm with the kisses, stopping at her shoulder.

He pulled her shirt to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. He brought his mouth to it and teased his teeth over the exposed patch of skin, not quite biting into it. Miguel took (Y/N)’s face in his hand and kissed her, scraping his teeth against her bottom lip and nibbling on it. He slid his tongue over the raw lip, calming the sharp sting.

He baited her to open her mouth, wrapping his arms around her torso and grabbing her ass. She gasped into his mouth as he forced his tongue in, exploring it. 

“Fuck,” he broke away from the kiss briefly, “I can’t take it anymore, I’m gonna take you again in here, baby.” 

“But, people ‘re still in the lab, what if they catch us?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like that?” He pulled her pants to her ankles, working his hand past the band of her panties, and rubbed light, teasing circles on her clit. “Want everyone to watch me fuck you real good, don’t you?”

Her hips bucked into his whispering touches and she let out a guttural moan. “Nuh-uh, can’t let anyone see us, it’ll be embarrassing,” she gasped. 

“No? Then don’t let them catch us then. Keep quiet, muñequita.” He pushed a finger into her and curled it, chuckling at the choking groan she let out. “I know I make you feel good, but you don’t want everyone in the building to hear you, do you?”

(Y/N) shook her head and grabbed onto Miguel’s forearm while he drilled his fingers into her spongey g-spot. She felt his fingers leave just as warmth started to pool in her stomach, whining at the emptiness.

“Why did you take ‘em out?”

“Hey, don’t whine,” he shushed her, “I want you to finish on my dick, okay, baby?” He pulled her down from the countertop, flipping her around so that her ass pushed into his erection. He slipped his dick out of his pants and pulled her panties to the side, pushing his tip into her. “I don’t know if you deserve the whole thing yet,” he teased, “maybe I’ll make you finish with just the tip, hm?”

“No, please, will you please give me the whole thing? I promise, I’ll be good!”

“Oh, you promise?” He continued to slowly pump his cock’s head into her, inching in and out at a snail’s pace. “Gonna be a good girl?” Seeing the back of her head nod up and down, he pushed deeper into her, letting her walls envelope and suck his length in. “Aw, sweetness, I can feel you already clenching up. Gonna cum quick like a lil slut, huh?”

“Yes– God! Feels so good already, ‘m feelin’ so full now.” She rocked her hips, getting herself off on his cock. 

Pressing his hands into (Y/N)’s hips, Miguel took over and slammed her hips back and forth. Skin slapping and wet squelches filled the room. It drove him crazy.

“God, I can hear your wet little pussy so clearly. Mm, she’s talking to me, baby, saying how good she feels.”

(Y/N) threw her head onto her crossed arms, biting down on her own forearms to silence her ecstatic little mewls. “I’m so close,” she mumbled into her arms.

Miguel snapped her hips into her roughly and leaned forward. “Don’t give me that shy shit, speak up.”

She tried to repeat herself, only to find herself a babbling mess as she drenched his dick with her cum, legs shaking while they tried to support her body.

“Good girl, creaming all over my dick.” He groped her tits from the back, pinching them while she rode out her orgasm. “Mm, you gonna let me cum in you again?

“Yes– anything you want,” she arched into his touch, feeling him tweaking and twisting her buds.

He felt his pace become sloppy and rushed. He rutted deep into her heat and came, spurting his load right into her slick walls. “Fuck, ‘s so good,” he sighed, pulling out of her dripping cunt, watching a stream of his cum pool out of her. He picked her up, placing her back on her spot on the counter. 

“Still feel so good.” (Y/N) leaned forward onto his broad shoulder.

“Yeah? Bet I can make you feel even better next time,” he snickered right by her ear.

“Next time?”

“There’ll always be a next time with you.”

[radiowallet]

Eyes Open - Chapter 9

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Amy Oliver (ofc) Summary: Amy and Marcus are happy. WC: 2.7K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, talk of police work, a blatant show of testosterone, blood, injuries, kissing, making-out, dry humping, a smidge of dirty talk hurt/comfort, slow burn, yearning, idiots friends to lovers, financial stressors, second chance romance, workplace romance (sort of), older love interest, single parents, DID I MENTION THE YEARNING?

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Cross-Posted to AO3

Part 8 >>> Part 10

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

------

“Mommy, why are you smiling like that?”

“Because I’m happy.”

“You look crazy.”

Amy's eyebrows shoot up into her forehead, not sure how to answer her daughter’s question. She tries her best to school her expression into something more neutral but fails almost immediately. Harris snorts into her bowl of cereal, milk spraying out across the kitchen table. A muffled ‘sorry’ is mumbled around a mouthful of crunch berries, and before Amy can offer an alternative, Harris is mopping up the spill with the sleeve of her shirt. 

And she still can’t stop smiling. 

——

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Like what?

“Like you slept with a coat hanger in your mouth.”

Marcus sneaks a glance to the passenger seat where Missy is watching him, eyes narrowed, one sneaker propped on his dashboard. He briefly considers playing it off and changing the subject, but that tactic hasn’t worked on her in years. 

“Just happy, kiddo. What can I say? Just really happy.”

He watches Missy bob her head from the corner of his head, her own smile stretching her cheeks. 

“Next time they should come to our place.”

If possible, his smile gets even wider. 

——

“Hey, Oliver, you got that list of potential informants from Saturday?”

“…Oliver?”

“Oliver!”

A stack of papers and a cup of coffee hit Amy’s desk one after the other, and she blushes when she glances up and sees Derek staring down at her. There are certainly better ways to start a Monday morning than the chief of police catching her daydreaming about brown eyes and very kissable lips. But who could blame her, when the memory of Marcus’s touch was still so fresh, the bruise of his kiss still seared into her skin? She was already counting down the seconds until she could see him again, her mind on anything but police reports and notary stamps, only able to think about the way he – he…

“Oliver!”

“Shit! Sorry, Derek,” she apologizes, ducking her head and grinning despite herself. She shuffles through the mess, looking for the papers he was asking for when a cough draws her attention back to her boss, the cup of coffee he had put down nudged in her direction. 

“Seems like you need this.” 

“Thanks,” she offers between sips, closing her eyes and humming at the familiar taste. 

She hears the scrape of a chair and looks over as Derek takes a seat beside her, something stuck between a smile and smirk looking back at her. 

“Someone on your mind?”

“Oh god, what do you know?” 

It seemed only fitting that he knew about her and Marcus. A skilled detective with years of experience beneath his belt who has had a front row seat to the back and forth for years now? Of course, he knew.

Derek throws his head back, his trademark laugh filling out the stiff Monday morning air. “Not much, but I think I can take a good enough guess.” 

Amy snorts into her mug, taking another sip before returning to the task at hand.  “No jokes or warnings? Nothing about ‘bleeding hearts’ or ‘vigilante shit’?”

“It’s not like it would change your mind,” he reasons, leaning back in his chair, the heel of his boot resting across his knee. “Would it?”

“Mmmm, definitely not,” she hums, the smile returning to her face. She pulls out the list Derek had been asking for and passes it over to him with a wink. 

“You can spare me the details, Oliver. I’m happy you’re happy, but just do me a favor?”

The tone in his voice catches her ear, and she takes care to stop what she’s doing altogether, giving him her full attention. For a moment he doesn’t say anything, sharp eyes watching Amy from only a few feet away. Not for the first time, she wonders how much Derek really knows about her friendship with the Heroic and how even as it progresses so seamlessly into more, there is one piece of the foundation that remains. He clicks his tongue to the back of his teeth and shakes his head, telltale smirk returning. 

“Come find me when you’ve got these reports done. I need to take a look at them before the briefing about Wednesday night.”

——

“Falling in love with that file over there, Moreno?”

“Hmmm, what’s that?” Marcus asks, not looking up from the papers in his lap, Miracle’s question hardly registering, save for the call of his name. Whatever it is, it’s not nearly enough to distract  him from the memory of Amy’s kiss, and suddenly he’s wondering if it’s too early in the day to call her. Surely, she’s at work by now, and Marcus can’t think of a better way to brighten his own morning than by hearing her voice. He’s just about to reach for his phone when suddenly a blonde mustache is directly in his line of sight.

“Anybody home up there?”

“Jeez!” He shoots out of his chair, Miracle Guy’s intrusion into his personal space. “Warn a guy next time!”

“Oh, you mean the three times I called your name while you were daydreaming weren’t enough?”

Marcus feels his smile slip for the first time that day, his cheeks heating up at the realization he had been caught red-handed. The other man smirks before straightening and sauntering back to his seat on the other side of the room. He makes a show of swinging his hips back around and sitting in his chair before fixing a Cheshire grin directly on Marcus. 

“Sooooo…did you do something slutty?”

“Get back to work.”

“That’s a yes,” Miracle declares triumphantly, cheating his eyes back down to the file in his lap. 

“Not your business,” Marcus counters, shaking his head and doing his best to focus on his own work, hoping the subject would be dropped for good. The last thing he wanted was to reduce his weekend with Amy down to typical locker room talk, no matter how well-intentioned his friend was. No, this was something he wanted to safeguard, and protect, in any way he possibly could. 

They work in silence a little longer, only the scratch of Marcus’s pen to fill up the space between them. He’s just starting to make a little bit of headway when he feels it, the stare of blue eyes from across the room. Sure enough, Miracle Guy is still watching him when he looks up, but his features have evened out to something tempered and genuine. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” he tosses out, cheating his eyes back down to his lap. “So, when you seeing her again?”

Marcus doesn’t bother pointing out that he had yet to actually confirm the shift in his relationship with Amy (or that it was even Amy that had him so distracted in the first place). Instead, he tosses the stack of papers onto his desk and folds his hand in his lap, giving up fully on killing his smile.

“Friday.”

Miracle Guy nods, leaning forward to meet Marcus’s gaze head on, his own smile splitting his lips. “What would you say to seeing her sooner?

——

The assumption has always been that Miracle Guy is dumb. People see the cape and the muscles and the smile and they draw conclusions to a very obvious (if not boring) narrative. Marcus grew up side by side with the other Heroic, a tenuous rivalry that blossomed slowly into a friendship that spanned two weddings, two kids, one devastating loss, one almost retirement, and one fake alien invasion. 

The two men brought out the best and worst in each other over the years. Miracle was strong, so Marcus took up swords. Marcus was quick on his feet, so Miracle took to the skies. They were so different in so many ways, but when push came to shove it didn’t really matter that Marcus was named team leader. Miracle Guy looked good on a lunch box and so that was his role to play. The face. The smile. The whole package. 

But the world didn’t know. 

They didn’t see it. 

Miracle Guy was the smartest of them all. 

And so when he pointed out one distinct pattern that Marcus had overlooked in every case filing, every box of evidence, every shake down of a perp, he knew the other man was right. About a lot of things. 

The air in the station feels less stale today, something static sparking at the tips of his fingers, even just the potential of Amy’s smile leaving Marcus breathless. He spots her quickly, her head bent low over her desk, her pen moving in short, sweet strokes, a half-empty cup of coffee beside her.  He shifts where he stands, giving himself a few seconds to collect his thoughts, admiring Amy from afar in the meantime. From the outside, she appears focused, her eyes sharp and her pen strokes precise, but Marcus doesn’t miss how she pauses every so often, the scratch of her pen falling silent, the tips of her ears tinging pink.

He can’t help but hope it’s him that has her so distracted.

She looks up, the weight of his eyes on her finally catching her attention. He gives a small wave, not bothering to hide his grin, delighted when she matches him beat for beat. He moves quickly after that, not slowing until he’s beside her.

“I didn’t think I’d see you today,” Amy greets him before taking a sip of her coffee. From the look of disgust on her face, it’s gone cold but she takes it in stride, standing and moving to the coffee pot behind her, mug in hand.

“Me either,” Marcus admits, his hand coming to the back of his neck. He watches her patiently as she tops off her lukewarm coffee before pouring a cup for him, adding his preferred two sugars with a smile and a wink. 

“So is it safe to assume you’re here for more than just a sweet surprise?” She murmurs, brown eyes cheating to where Baldwin’s door is shut tight.

“Guilty.”

Amy takes his confession in stride, handing him the mug of coffee before leaning in to kiss his cheek. It’s soft, a barely there brush of her lips, but still, he can feel his heart rate pick up speed. It’s another addition, something small and sweet, the change in their dynamic more apparent than ever. Her eyes find his, something warm spilling out between them, and before she can move away he leans in and steals a quick kiss of his own. 

“Okay,” she hums, settling back down in her seat and motioning for him to do the same. “Spill. Tell me about your day.”

Marcus grins but obliges, scooting his chair in until his knees just graze Amy’s. She doesn’t say anything, but he can feel her push her own leg forward into his space, and he takes that as his cue to talk

“Miracle Guy and I were doing a little bit of work today. Going over some of our notes from the past few weeks, and he noticed something interesting.”

“Mmm? What’s that?” She asks, not looking up from her own work, the perfect picture of feigned indifference. 

He takes a sip of his coffee, nodding his head left then right, trying to match her nonchalance. “The only piece of evidence collected.” 

——

Amy hadn’t really thought much about the bags of money from the weekend. Not since they had fallen into her face, interrupting her kiss with Marcus. After their giggling had quieted, and Marcus had leaned back in for one more kiss, softer and sweeter on the second go around, she carefully stacked the bundles of cash back on the shelf and promptly put them out of her mind. 

Until now. 

She can feel the heat of Marcus behind her as they navigate the narrow stairwell down into the evidence locker. Tendrils of warmth curl down in her stomach, the memory of Saturday morning still fresh in her mind. Somehow returning to the scene of their first kiss feels more intimate than anything else they’ve shared since, and it takes every ounce of willpower for her not to turn around and recreate the moment beat for beat. 

It isn’t just Amy that’s distracted by the memory, the brush of Marcus’s lips along the nape of her neck giving away his own thoughts. As her feet touch the bottom step his hands find her waist, holding her in place, his breath insistent across her skin. Logic falls to the wayside, one calloused palm cupping her chin and turning her head until their lips finally meet. 

The kiss is hurried, sharp and sweet, breaking apart and coming back together again and again. Amy does her best to hold on, one hand finding the bend of Marcus’s elbow, the other planted to the wall, chipped paint catching beneath her fingernails. She gasps into the kiss and his grip only tightens at the sound. Suddenly, she's spinning, her back to the wall, his chest pressed to hers, teeth and tongue taking even more. 

“Missed you,” he murmurs into the kiss, refusing to part from her lips any longer than necessary. 

Amy is vaguely aware of the growing risk, the busy precinct one floor up, filled with an endless number of people who could walk in and steal this moment. And still she can’t stop, kissing Marcus as if he was the air inside her lungs, breathing him in and holding him close and praying for forever. His tie between her fingers and his hands in her hair, and how could it be that only a week ago she was convinced this man didn’t want her. 

Couldn’t want her. For all the things she carried from point A to point B. 

Amy was never so sure of how good it felt to be wrong. 

Level heads and a gentler touch eventually prevail, the kiss ending with soft smiles and pink cheeks. But Marcus doesn’t pull away, even as his eyes find a spot over her shoulder, the shelves of evidence splitting his attention. 

“What are you looking for exactly?”

His jaw ticks hard to the left, his brows bunching in with the effort. When answers, it’s with his own question, something like guilt coloring his words. 

“How hard are those bags of money to open?”

——

It turns out, not very hard at all. 

Amy pulls one of the neatly stacked bundles down, running the tip of her finger along the sealed edges.

“You can’t open it here, because you’ll cut through these signatures,” she points to the scribbled names of two officers. The ones who had collected the money from the scene of the crime. “But if you cut here,” she slides her finger down to the bottom of the bag, “you can reseal it without it being too noticeable.” 

“It’s weird though,” she hums with the afterthought, turning the bag back over in her hands. “Once we confirm the money was obtained illegally the FBI comes to haul it away. Must be hung up ‘cus we confiscated it over the weekend.” 

Marcus nods in agreement, a sharp buzz starting to ring in his ears. He’s acutely aware of the lines being crossed, Amy’s voice pitched to a low whisper, her tone rushed with nerves. New layers of guilt are sticking to his every thought, and he hates how unsure he is of both of their motives. Is she willing to help because she always has, his friend first and foremost, their relationship built around little lies just like this one? Or is this something bigger? The memory of their kiss still bruised into her lips as she willingly helps him take something he knows he shouldn’t? 

“Marcus?” She calls his name, pulling his attention back down to her, her own eyes narrowed in thought. “What do you think is in here?” 

Slowly, eyes never leaving hers, he takes the bag out of Amy’s hands and places it back on the shelf behind them. With his hands free, Marcus cups her cheeks and leans in, pressing his lips, first to the crease in her brow, to the tip of her nose, and then finally, to her lips. When he pulls back, he keeps her close, her breath warm where it mingles with his own. 

“I’ll find another way.” 

------

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Bonus review: Migration! The episode where Luka knowing the identities is finally acknowledged in the most disappointing way possible.

We start the episode with my SO being shocked that Luka knows. In his defense, Wishmaker aired over a year ago and Luka's knowledge has been ignored since then, so I can't exactly blame a casual viewer for forgetting. So it's seriously a good thing that the episode spends so much time reminding us that he knows.

SO was excited to see where this went and then very unexcited when it led to Luka being voted off the island and nothing else. But, hey, at least someone knowing the identities actually led to consequences! It won't happen again, but this was a brief moment of narrative competence where they gave real weight to the "identities have to stay secret" BS that they've been undermining since Queen Bee and straight up butchering since Gang of Secrets.

If people kept having to leave Paris like this, then the lack of a Love Square reveal would feel logical. Especially because, in theory, Marinette is right about it being risky. Doubly so since they don't know that they know each other, so they think that they'll have to make up a story about how they met and such.

SO called bullshit on Anarka letting Kitty Section sign Bob Roth's contract and, yeah, did anyone buy that she'd allow that? Come on, let there be at least one competent parent on this show! Also, Luka's a bit of a pushover, but he's not stupid. I don't buy him telling the gang to sign those papers. (Also, can minors even sign a contract like that in France? I'd assume parents would need to be involved.)

It was at this point that Bob Roth' name registered with my SO. He paused the episode to go: "Wait, isn't that the painting guy?" Which, yes, the names are super similar and hard to differentiate when you hear them. Bob Ross is who most people would think of. Not sure if that's as true in France, but we changed Noel to Chris for localization! Why not this one, too?

(I know he's named after someone on the production team, but still. I would have chosen another name.)

The real standout moment of the episode? The duck getting hit with Bob Roth's magical golden record. Not because it was a particularly funny moment, but because it meant that I got to introduce the SO to Disco Duck! Yes, this is a real, serious song. It hit the top 10 in multiple countries. The 70's were a wild time.

SO countered with this thing, which pales in comparison to the glory of disco duck, imo, but feel free to tell me if you disagree

(I'm not going to post reviews for every episode, only the ones where I have something funny to say or a criticism that I haven't seen before. Originally, I skipped Migration, but someone asked about it and I realized that I did have some funny stuff to add in retrospect. Everyone deserves to experience Disco Duck at least once)

[sweetwhispersofchaos]

Eject Chapter 7

Story Summary: Ejecting from your plane in the face of danger? Expected. Forbidden love amongst pilots? Not so much. Will they bond or will this break them for good?

Chapter Summary: A vacation proposition, Bob backstory, and a special kiss

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace All the Daggers, Mav x Penny, Amelia, OC's

Warnings: Language. Assault (not by a major character). Injury. Eventual smut. Alcohol consumption. Smoking. Discussions of mental health. (It's a rollercoaster. You've been warned!) Chapter

Word Count: 4459

Eject Masterlist

I do not own anything except the original characters.

Luckily for Rooster, nothing was broken. Unfortunately for Rooster it was a blood hematoma caused by blunt force trauma. He vaguely remembered hitting a branch or log as he came in for a landing after ejecting from his jet. The on-board doctor had to drain it in a minor surgical procedure. He was going to be fine, sans any infection. Definitely no swimming, so he would be a heavily medicated observer for the afternoon’s festivities.

Phoenix left him at medical to go get her nap, Rooster absolutely pained he couldn’t go with her. Worse than the pain he was feeling in his side for sure. His choice to follow Mav was like the horrible gift that kept on giving. One step forward, five steps back. He winced as the doctor finished bandaging the side of his torso. The local was beginning to wear off and while the pressure of the clot was gone, he could now feel where he was cut open. He traded one type of pain for another.

After being discharged Rooster went to his room and crashed. Delirium was beginning to kick in.

Two hours later he heard a knock at the door. Drool was pooling on his pillow under his check, his eyes dry, his right side screaming at him. The knock came again, and he gingerly slid out of his bunk and padded to the door while rubbing the slobber from his cheek. He opened it to find his tiny fire bird staring up at him, that gorgeous smirk across her face.

“Nice bed head.” She spoke through a small snicker. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” He moved over with a small limp as he spoke, so that she could slide past him in the cramped quarters. Rooster closed the door and leaned his back on it, still trying to clear the haze from his head.

“Sorry to wake you. How’s your wound?” she asked as she observed the large bandage on the side of his shirtless body.

Rooster stood up a little and sucked in a breath as he felt the stitches stretch across the injury. “My side is telling me I need my meds.” And he picked up the bottle of medication and water on the little table and downed one large pill.

Nat moved to sit on Bobs bed, barely having to duck her head. Rooster pulled the stool out from under the table and sat to face her. They sat looking at each other for a minute before she broke the silence.

“Hangman had an interesting proposal earlier. About the two weeks of leave.”

Bradley stared intriguingly at her. Where the heck was this going?

“I know what you’re thinking. Or at least the general idea. Trust me this might be a really good idea.” She waited for him to respond but he was too curious to speak. He waited on bated breath for her to continue. “So Hangman’s Dad is some big shot oil guy, right?” Rooster nodded. “Well, apparently his parents own a place in Tahoe they rent out. He got a message out to his mom, and she said we could use it for a week. We’d have to leave a few days before Thanksgiving because they have clients coming in, but Bob and I were chatting and thought we could have our own sort of Dagger squad Thanksgiving there at the house? It has an indoor pool, game room, a movie room, and plenty of rooms and beds for all of us. What do you think? Want to go?”

His heart just about leapt out of his chest. That sounded like the best idea on the fucking planet. Almost too eagerly he responded “Yes. I’d love to!”

She giggled at his enthusiastic response and Rooster felt heat rise up his cheeks as he gave her a dorky half smile. She giggled again and continued.

“Apparently Hangman hasn’t been to the house in a couple of years,” She loathed with an eyeroll. “So he’s VERY enthusiastic about this. He’s a total rich frat-boy type of guy who will just stay drunk and annoy me the entire trip. But whatever. If it means we all get a well-earned vacation, then we can suffer through his antics, right?” She mused as she picked at some lint on Bobs bed.

Rooster nodded his head, too excited to speak. He had to keep his cool exterior. After everything they experienced in the last 48 hours, he didn’t want to get too passionate about this and scare her off. They were making hesitant strides, and this was a big one. A week vacation with her in a beautiful retreat sounded fucking incredible.

Nat looked up from the sheet she was plucking at with a sad expression and said “I’m sorry we didn’t get our nap. And I’m sorry for the reason we didn’t get it. What did the Doc say?”

Rooster took in a slow, painful breath. “The Doc said I’ll live. So I’ve defied death for the second time in 2 days.” He mused with a wink. Phoenix just rolled her eyes. “And I’m sad about the nap too.” He said, his sly grin dropping slightly. Nat let her gaze drop back to the corner of Bobs sheet in her hand, breaking their eye contact.

She spoke again, hesitantly. “Maybe we can try for that nap again on the trip?”

Rooster could feel the beads of sweat pearling on his forehead. This woman was going to be the death of him. Not some enemy plane, SAM, or wound infection. No. The genuine whiplash with which Natasha “Phoenix” Trace continued to hit him with was going to be the weapon that took him down. He wasn’t sure how much more his heart could handle, and right now physical limitations prevented him from doing anything other than sit on the stool and try to remain composed.

“That would be nice.” He barely whispered.

He saw the corner of her mouth perk up slightly and his did the same as an automatic reaction. He chuckled slightly and shook his head then made to stand. Before he could get all the way to a standing position though, a sharp pain hit his side, taking his breath away. His hand flew up to grab the end of the bunk as he let out a deep groan. Phoenix jumped to her feet and moved to him, placing her hand on his healthy side.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, extreme worry in her voice and eyes.

He took two slow steadying breaths then looked down at her scared eyes. “The pain meds haven’t kicked in yet.” He let out low, his face feeling clammy.

“Ok big boy. That’s enough excitement for you for a while. How about you lay down and rest? I need to go change and then I’ll return the favor of grabbing a meal for you before swim time, huh?” She asked as she backed up, taking his hand in hers and leading him to the side of his bed.

Bradley slowly slid down into the less than comfortable mattress, hissing and moaning along the way. He finally grunted a “sounds wonderful” as a response to her question.

Natasha pulled his cover up over him and patted his arm. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Rest.”

Bradley said nothing as he heard her footsteps cross the room and the gentle click of his door as she disappeared through it. He lay in the dim light and realized rest was out of the question. His mind was racing. A whole week with her. No orders. No flying. Just spending time enjoying each other’s company and the company of some of their best friends. The fact that Dickman set it up was slightly aggravating, but he didn’t care. This is what they needed. Time to just be without too much distraction, to talk and to connect. He hoped desperately that she felt the same way. She said she needed time to think. Maybe she was thinking this was a brilliant idea as well for all the same reasons he did.

Fifteen minutes later Roosters thoughts of Nat and the Tahoe house were interrupted by the door to the room opening softly. Someone shuffled quietly in and began rustling around. He rolled over slightly and in the shadowy lamp light saw Bob digging around in his drawer. Bob glanced over and a sheepish look crossed his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I needed to grab my shorts for the swim. It’s almost time. I know you can’t swim but you planning to come too?”

Rooster grunted and rolled all the way to his back, rubbing his face. “Yeah, I’ll be a begrudging spectator. Phoenix is bringing me food, so I need to get up I ‘spose.”

“Oh yeah, I saw her in line when I left the mess just now. I’m sure she won’t be long.”

Bob grabbed a pair of shorts out of his drawer then closed it. Turning to Rooster he asked “So, are yall ok? Phoenix seems, I don’t know, different somehow.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable with his line of questioning, but unable to stop himself. “I’m guessing yall worked some things out then?”

Rooster sighed, staring at the bed above him to give Bob his privacy as he began to change. “I think so?” Rooster said more as a question than a statement of fact.

Bob nodded his head. “Good. She told you about the trip idea yeah?” he asked as he finished sliding his navy and white striped trunks up.

“Oh yeah man. Count me all the way in. Tahoe sounds fucking spectacular after being on this metal heap for a week. Even if it’s cold as fuck there this time of year.”

Bob chuckled “I wholeheartedly agree.”

“Any idea who’s going?” Rooster asked.

“So far, it’s me, you, Phoenix, Hangman, Fanboy, Coyote, Fritz, and Omaha. Payback is going to Florida to spend Thanksgiving with his fiancé, Halo wants to stay near base to hang out with some guy she met before we left, and the Ivies are going back east to see their family for the holiday.”

“Cool. That should be enough bodies to keep Hangman at bay.”

“One could only hope.” Bob said, completely deadpan.

Rooster laughed lightly under his breath. “I am just a little surprised so many want to go to Tahoe instead of home for the holiday.” Rooster pondered aloud.

Bob contemplated for a moment then responded. “Well, you and I have the dead parents’ thing in common.” Roosters’ eyebrows raised. This was news to him. “We know about Phoenix. She has no desire to go see her dad. Jake is going back to Texas after we leave Tahoe to see his family. Coyote is going with Jake because his grandma passed away a couple years ago and she is the one that raised him. Fanboy has a sister in Tampa, but she is busy with her husband’s family, and he doesn’t like her husband. Not sure about Fritz or Omaha but suspicion is there’s something going on there.”

Roosters head snapped over to look at the WSO. “Hmm. That answers some lingering questions I have from flight school.” He said and Bob shrugged.

“Well,” he huffed as he shifted and rolled over onto his uninjured side, “if we aren’t one big fucked up happy family huh? Sorry to hear about your parents by the way.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Bob nodded but his face looked forlorn.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

Bob took a deep breath then spoke. “My dad left when I was young. I didn’t really know him, but he was killed by a drunk driver when I was in junior high. I barely remember anything about him. My mom had a heart attack when I was in high school. I think she died of a broken heart though. She really loved that man and when he walked out, she just seemed to lose herself. Thank goodness for my older sister, or I would have never had anything to eat.”

“Man I’m so sorry.” Was all Rooster could say. He was learning all sorts of new things today.

“Uh, mind if I ask about your parents?” Bob barely whispered, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“I guess it’s only fair since I asked first, huh?” and the corner of Bob’s mouth lifted some.

“My mom died of cancer when I was at UVA. My Dad, well,” he took a ragged breath, “that’s something I have to swear you to secrecy on. There’s only one other person I’ve told this to in my entire Naval career. It’s not something I want going around.”

Bob nodded and said “Of course.”

“I know I can trust you so here goes. My Dad was Mavericks RIO back in the 80’s.” Rooster watched as Bobs eyes went wider than he thought possible. He continued. “When I was three, they were sent to Top Gun. Mav flew through Admiral Kazanskys jetwash just a couple of days before graduation and couldn’t recover it. They punched out but my dad hit the canopy and that was that.”

“Wow” was all Bob said.

“Yeah. I don’t really remember him, but I know what it’s like to have a mom who never recovered from a broken heart.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s a hell of a secret to keep around here but I’m guessing that’s why all the trouble during training with Lieutenant Mitchell?” Bob asked.

“Yup” was Roosters only response and he went back to staring at the bunk above him. This was getting a little too deep for him and he needed Phoenix to come save him from his own thoughts

Bob turned back to his drawer and awkwardly began rummaging in it as a tap came at the door.

Oh, perfect timing.

Bob crossed to open the door and let Phoenix in, a cardboard food box and two bottles of water in her hands. She moved directly to his rack, placing the food container and one bottle on Paybacks bed above him then she opened the other bottle and took a long swig of it.

After she swallowed, she took a big breath and asked “Did yall chat vacay plans?”

Bob nodded and replied, “Rooster thinks the seven of us should be able to take on Bagman if he becomes too unruly.”

Nat unceremoniously snorted at the comment. “We’ll drown him in the pool if we have to. I’m sure his daddy has good insurance.”

Both men laughed vigorously.

“I’m going to head up. See yall in a bit?” Bob asked.

Rooster put a thumb up, and Phoenix let out a “you bet” as Bob made his way out of the room.

Nat watched him go then turned to face Rooster, who hadn’t moved since she came in other than to raise his thumb just now. She crossed her arms as she looked down at him.

“Aren’t you southern boys supposed to stand for a lady?” she asked teasingly.

Bradley smirked, turned his head to meet her gaze, and grunted his reply “Under any other circumstance I would have already been up and standing at attention for you, Lieutenant. However, the large gash on my ribs says quiet you.” And gave her one of his thousand-watt smiles.

She snorted through laughter and put her hand out to him. Rooster sat up as far as he could without hitting his head then took her hand as he swung his legs over the side, placing his feet on the cold metal floor. The pain in his side wasn’t as pronounced. Good, the meds had kicked in. He stood slowly, her hands resting on his good side and right bicep as he went. Once he was fully standing neither of them moved and he heard her breath hitch. Her hands still touching his bare skin, their bodies mere inches away from each other. Rooster braved a slight glance down. It was hard to tell because his body was blocking most of the light, but he could tell she was staring straight at his chest, a look of panic mixed with deep contemplation resting on her brow.

They just stood there for what felt like an eternity. Rooster didn’t dare move. Her hands, pilots’ hands, although calloused, felt like the most amazing thing he had ever felt on his skin. Bradley decided he was done tap dancing around what he felt was becoming the inevitable. Sink or swim.

His right hand moved shakily to her hip, then slid around her lower back, nudging her closer until the gap was closed and her body was pressed to his. His left hand reached up and moved a strand of hair from her cheek, then his fingers caressed down her jaw, coming to rest on her chin. She never moved her hands or looked up. He could feel her body tense with nerves under his hands.

He slowly raised her chin, getting little resistance, much to his surprise. He licked his lips as their eyes met. He plummeted into her sparkling eyes, asking for permission with his own. When she said nothing, he made his move. Lowering his head slowly as he raised her chin a little more, her eyes remained on his until their noses touched, then both closed their eyes as their lips met tenderly. It was one soft and slow kiss. Chaste. And it was the most beautiful moment of his life. Every inch of his body felt on fire but in the best possible way.

She pulled away ever so slightly and he cracked his eyes to see her reaction. She remained stark still, her eyes still closed, her breath shuddering.

Bradley’s hand slid from her chin, down her neck, and slid under her arm to wrap around her upper back. She was so still he thought she could be a statue. Obviously scared. He needed her to say something, or he could kiss her again. He decided to see if lightening could strike twice.

With her eyes still closed, he pulled her closer and dipped his head to meet her lips again. This time though, he felt her relax some, and he took that as his chance to deepen the kiss a little. It was still slow and tentative but lasted much longer than the first.

His head was swimming. Bradley never knew what total bliss felt like until this moment. Her lips were soft and melded so perfectly with his. She began to melt into him, and he let out an involuntary hiss as her weight shifted more into his torso. She snapped back so fast he almost fell sideways. Natasha’s back hit the bunk behind her, her eyes wide, fear racing across her face. She let out a small squeak as her back hit the bed and her hands flew to her face, covering her mouth. Her eyes darted to the bandage on his right side then back to meet his.

“Did I hurt you? Oh gosh, I’m sorry Bradley. I didn’t mean to.”

He looked at her bewildered then chuckled. He reached up his hands and wrapped them gently around her wrists, pulling her hands from her face and bringing them to rest on his chest. Nat’s face still looked completely full of worry, but he just smirked at her.

“The only thing that hurt was you pulling away while I was trying to do this.” He said slyly as he bent his head to capture her lips once more. This time slightly more forceful, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. With her hands resting on his chest, he slid his around her waist, this time ignoring the slight twinge in his side. She relaxed immediately but didn’t rest her full body weight on him this time.

The kiss felt more desperate though. As their lips danced, his tongue slid across her bottom lip and she responded accordingly, parting her lips to let him in. His tongue gently swept over hers and she let out a soft moan.

Oh. My. God.

This was really happening and something dark took over Bradley. He had been waiting for this moment for years and it was pure heaven on the high seas. Her arms moved up to wrap around the back of his neck and he lifted her small frame up until she was on her tip toes. He couldn’t get close enough to her.

Their tongues rolled languidly together as they suppressed moans and breathed each other in. She smelled of the sea and jet fuel and something fruity. It may have been an odd combination, but it was perfect to him. His hands bunched into the back of her t-shirt while Nat’s hands gripped the back of his neck and head.

Minutes became hours, and to Bradley the whole world came to a complete stop. This was it for him. He wanted to stay in this breathtaking moment with his fire bird forever. No amount of time in a jet would ever hold a cancel to this kiss.

All too soon though, he could feel her slowly moving her head away as she let out small pants and her eyes fluttered open.

Something had changed. Her face flushing, her eyes even more dark than they already were. He had never seen her more gorgeous than in that moment as she looked at him and smirked that smirk he loved so much.

She whispered through her smirk, “That was something, huh?”

Bradley brought his forehead down to meet hers and let out a small chuckle. “It was fucking awesome is what it was.”

She giggled then took a tiny step back, but he didn’t want to let go, so he tightened his grip around her shirt and smiled.

“Are you holding me captive now, Lieutenant?” she asked in a rather flirty manner.

“Don’t tempt me.” Was his only reply.

She smiled at him, then reached up to plant a tiny kiss on his left cheek. “It was fucking awesome for me too.” She stated playfully. “But. It’s swim time and I think our absence would be noticed.” She whispered as she slid his hands from around her. His loud and exasperated groan made her laugh even more and she slipped past him to stand near the door.

Roosters’ hands came to rest on the bunk in front of him, his head hung down to his chest. He had a growing problem that needed to subside before walking into public. Yup, she would be the death of him.

He stood and crossed to her. “That was incredibly unfair, you know?”

“You started it.” Was her deadpan replay.

He conceded “fair enough”.

“You going up in just shorts?” she asked, smirking as her dark orbs wandered down to the black shorts he was wearing.

He prayed she couldn’t see the bulge that was slowly lowering under the thin fabric he was wearing.

He stammered then finally spit out “Uh no. I, uh, need to find a shirt and some shoes.”

“I’ll wait in the hall while you get yourself together.”

She turned to leave but he reached up with his hands and gently grabbed her shoulders to stop her. He took a step forward, his upper body meeting her back, and lowered his head to her ear. His voice almost failed him as he breathed into her ear “I imagine that was hard for you, but I hope you know just how wonderful that was for me? Thank you.” and he pecked her on her cheek, near her ear.

She smiled a small smile, bringing her hand up to rest on top of his. “Wonderful doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Then she reached for the door but turned to look at him as she opened it. “Now we have to go pretend nothing happened.” And her grin faded a little. “Don’t take too long.” She caressed his cheek with her hand then vanished with the click of the door behind her.

Rooster let out a huge, exasperated breath and turned to rest his back on the door.

Wow.

That was the only word that came to mind through his brain fog. Followed immediately by

What now?

He rubbed his face with his hands and let out a long, drawn-out grumble. They kissed. They fucking kissed and it was. Well, there were no words for it. This time next week they would be in the snow of Tahoe, not alone but close to it. Oh the stars were aligning all too perfectly, he thought. Maybe, just maybe they would be able to make this work, in some form or fashion.

Deep in thought, Rooster was startled when someone attempted to open the door behind him. He moved as quickly as he could out of the way as Payback and Fanboy entered the room.

“Hey man, you, ok? Were you leaning on the door? Sorry if I hit you.” Payback asked as he brought his fist up, and Rooster bumped his knuckles in return.

“I think I’ll live. And yeah, I was. Stopped to take a breath before getting dressed. Moving is a bitch.”

“Phoenix said that thing is gnarly. You’ll have to take the bandage off later and share all the gory details. Did you know she’s standing in the hall?” Fanboy asked as he removed a towel from the bunk above Bobs.

Rooster laughed. “Yeah, she’s waiting on my slow ass, and we can have show and tell after the swim. Yall heading up?”

“Someone here forgot his towel.” He rolled his eyes and pointed to Fanboy who just scoffed in mock offense. “We’re ready if you are?” Payback asked. Rooster nodded “Let me just grab my shirt and stuff.” He said and threw on his Hawaiian shirt and shades then slipped a pair of deck shoes on. He reached up to grab his food box and bottle of water then turned to face them. The other two gentlemen rolled their eyes as they exited through the door.

“Dude. I don’t think that thing is regulation.” Payback threw over his shoulder while walking, pointing at his shirt with a big toothy smile.

“So I’ve heard.” He rebutted through a chuckle as he bumped knuckles with Phoenix in the hall. A knowing grin on his face, her trademark smirk on hers.

“Ready to go sit on your ass some more?” She teased.

“Ready to take a 30-foot plunge into some cold water?” He shot back.

“Hell yeah.” She said enthusiastically and they began to walk down the hall, their arms brushing against each other’s with a little extra pep in their steps.

Chapter 8 ->

[staysaneathome]

The Self-Preservation Society (2)

Des is tired.

The Thing’s been carrying him on its back for ages since they got out of the Underground station.

Des would fall asleep against it, but all the flashing lights and loud people and the backpack jostling against him keep stopping him and the Not!Daddy and poofy teenager are still out there chasing them, and Des is so tired and he wants to go to bed.

The Thing shifts him slightly higher on its back as it hoists itself over a wall.

It puts a finger to its lips to hush him as it gently brings him around, running bent double with him clutched against its chest until it enters a large building with lots and lots of books, ducking in and out of rooms until it reaches one with a computer. Then it stops and lets him down, at long last.

Des yawns widely, plopping down onto the floor almost as an afterthought, his family crawling out of him with tired, slow-moving wings. “M tired. ‘N thirsty. Can I have a Fruit Shoot? Or a Freddo?”

The Thing pauses, then holds up both it’s hands in a “wait” gesture that Des recognizes from Mama whenever he’s trying to ask her something while she’s on the phone or cooking. It leaves the room.

He droops, head tilting forward ‘til it’s almost hit his chest and he jerks more upright again, eyes so heavy it’s hard to keep them open for more than a few seconds—

Then a thumping of disjointed footsteps startles him up, the fear helping to keep him awake as the Thing enters the room again, brandishing a purple Fruit Shoot and Cadbury’s chocolate bar victoriously in its hands with a wide smile.

Des prefers Freddo Frogs, or Fruit and Nut bars, but he remembers to not say so as he wolfs the chocolate bar down and pulls the nozzle of the Fruit Shoot out with his teeth so he can eagerly suck down the juice inside.

“Aa-a-ah.” He feels a lot better, afterwards.

His family look better too, crawling back in and out of him with growing energy, flapping prettily like they’re meant to. “That was suuuper tasty. Thank you…? I don’t know your name.”

The Thing, which has been sitting at the computer and clicking at things on it, jerks again. It glances at him, still smiling, then away.

It reaches for the backpack on the floor, unzipping it and pulling out a notepad like the ones Mama keeps around the house for shopping lists.

It’s now got a pencil and is writing something down.

Des hopes it’s not anything too difficult. He’s one of the level B readers in his class at school, but he still needs Mama’s help with the harder words in English books.

The Thing eventually holds the pad out for Des to read.

“I-don’t-ha-ve-a-name.” He sounds out carefully. “It-was-tay-ken-from-me-by-the-Cir-cus. The Circus? But the circus is fun, it, it has clowns and elephants and lions and things! How can a circus take your name?”

At Des’ confused stare, the Thing grabs the pad back and begins writing. Once it’s done, it presents the paper again.

“Not-a-hu-man-Cir-cus.” He reads. “A-Cir-cus-for-things-that-pre-tend-to-be. So-they-can-catch-and-eat-them.”

“Things that pretend?” Des asks. “Like, like the man who’s not my Daddy?”

The Thing nods, eyebrows furrowed, its smile still there, but…unhappy, somehow. It reaches out slowly and puts a hand on Des’ head again.

He lets it, something inside his throat feeling cold and hard.

His Daddy got eaten by the Circus that pretends to be human but isn’t. He’s not here anymore, and Des isn’t sure he will be ever again. He sort of wants to cry, but for some reason his eyes aren’t getting wet.

Mama is going to be so sad.

His family flutter around him, whispering it’s okay, we’re here, we love you, even as the Thing keeps patting his head. It feels weird, but it’s…it’s kinda nice? Like the Thing’s trying to say that it’s sorry, even if it doesn’t have any voice.

“Is that what he was going to do to me?” He has to sniff a bit so his question isn’t all croaky. “Steal my name and voice too?”

The Thing bobs its head from side to side a bit before shaking it, leaning over to write something new for Des to read.

“No. The-Yuh-ee-er-k?-wa-n-ts-to-eat-up-your-li-ife-may-ke-you-not-you.” Des squirms unhappily, feeling his family flutter around him with whispers of beloved, ours, won’t let it, protect, care, love. “That’s scary. Did he take away your mouth too? Is that why you’re all bendy?”

The Thing shakes its head again, propping the pad on its knees so it can write and Des can see.

“Some-bo-dy-else-did-that-to-me.” He reads as it writes. “Took-my-name-and-my-voice-and-my-mem-or-ees-and-ev-ry-thing. But-I-ran-a-way-from-the-Cir-cus-be-for-they-took-what-s-left-of-me. I-wan-ted-to-help-you-so-they-do-n-t-hurt-you-like-they-hurt-me.”

“Thank you.” Des says slowly, because Mama’s taught him it’s important to thank people when they help him. “But I still need something to call you. I don’t like calling you ‘The Thing’ in my head all the time. ‘S mean.”

The Thing fidgets, drumming its fingers against its neck, before scribbling something else in smaller writing that’s hard to read.

“I-m-so-ree-but-I-do-n-t-have-one. I-am-12-years-old-if-that-helps.” Des gasps. “You’re twelve?!”

Twelve is—that’s five years older than him, at least. You can do so many things when you’re twelve that you can’t when you’re eight. You can stay up late and go to the shops on your own and drive a car and do taxes, and, and—!

“You’re so old.” Des tells the Thing. “Like, super suuuper old.”

The Thing jerks upright, a funny look on its face as it points at itself.

Since it’s so old, Des reasons, it needs to have a proper name. A respectable one, like Abuelita always says.

“I’m gonna call you Benjamin.” He decides with a nod. “That can be your name now.”

The newly dubbed Benjamin looks around, as if searching for something. Des doesn’t think they find it, because they slump over a bit and give a shrug.

It begins writing out another message along the very top edge of the paper, where there’s still a bit of space.

“Do-you-k-now-your-home-add-dress?” Des reads. “Yeah! My house is 4 Little Newts, Bishop’s Stortford.”

Benjamin gives a little nod, turning to the computer, tapping on the keys with one finger on each hand.

Des cranes his head to watch the screen with interest. Two of his sisters and one of his brothers land on it and begin to wander around, dazzled by the bright light.

The computer ends up on a bright blue screen, and Benjamin flips to a fresh page in the notepad, copying down things on the screen, words and numbers and weird, sketchy lines, faster than Des can read them.

“I-am-go-ing-to-get-you-ho-me. The-se-are-di-rect-tions” Des reads. “Really? You will?”

Benjamin nods, drawing a small cross over its chest with a finger.

Des throws himself at it in a hug, his family filling the air with their pretty colors as they dance with the joy that’s filling Des up to bursting.

Home! Home with Mama, and his family, and Abuelita, and his bed and his toys and Mr. Easto and Diya and Kayleigh and Milo at school and Maisy and Hugo at the playground! “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!!”

Benjamin doesn’t seem to know what to do with a hug, because it’s arms are raised in the air.

Slowly, hesitantly it comes down to give Des another rub over the head. It’s smile seems a little smaller than before, but more…real? If that makes any sense?

There’s a crash that sounds like the time Des accidentally knocked Daddy’s favorite glass out of the dishwasher.

The Thi—Benjamin goes rigid, one arm locking around Des’ back and hoisting him up against its chest. The other arm slides the notepad back into the backpack and zips it up, slinging it over its back.

It’s smile has gotten big and scary again.

“Des~” Comes the voice of the thing that isn’t his Daddy. “I know you’re here, Des. Come out, come out, wherever you are~”

It feels like he can’t breathe.

His family cluster close, whispering intruder, predator, danger, watch out, be careful, protect beloved, protect, defend, protect.

“I know you’re here.” The Y-ee-rk that’s pretending to be his Daddy calls, it’s voice sounding echoey and wrong. “ I can feel how scared you are, Des. You are scared, aren’t you? So scared, to be stolen away by a Stranger. Taken faaar away from your Mama and Daddy. It is very scary, isn’t it?”

Benjamin is standing, clutching Des close as it edges out of the room and into the dark corridor on silent feet, despite how much Des very much doesn’t want them to, doesn’t want to leave the safety of the computer room even to get away from where the Not-Daddy-Yeerk is crooning, “But it’s alright, Des. I can feel your fear. I can taste it, on the back of my teeth. I’ll find you. I’ll always find you. And then we’ll fix you up, get all those nasty pests out of you. And you’ll be able to love your Mama, okay?”

Des can’t help it.

A small whimper escapes from him.

Benjamin stares down at him with wide eyes, even as he claps his hands over his mouth.

“There you are.” The Yeerk that ate his Daddy coos over Benjamin’s shoulder.

Des isn’t quite sure how Benjamin does it, but one moment they’re standing upright and the next one of their feet is slamming into the monster’s face, hard enough to send it spinning into the wall.

Then they’re running, going almost faster than a car as they tear down the corridor away from what isn’t Des’ Daddy.

The monster that, from his position looking over Benjamin’s shoulder, Des can see getting up, his body shifting and bubbling, face melting and limbs splitting and growing, chasing after them with too many faces, too many arms and legs and bodies, human and animal and toy and, and, and—!

One of Benjamin’s hands comes up to the back of Des’ head and pushes it down gently until all he can see is it’s shoulder.

Des doesn’t try to lift his head, burrowing closer to the nasty-smelling, scratchy fabric trying hard to forget what he saw, to not cry as the Yeerk-thing’s voice echoes around them as it howls, “GET BACK HERE, YOU TREACHEROUS LITTLE THIEF!!”

Des is beginning to feel sick with how scared he is when Benjamin shifts him around its body. He’s terrified for a moment that it’s decided to drop him to save itself.

Instead, Benjamin charges through the glass doors at the front of the building, head down and the backpack held up to act as an extra shield.

From his position practically on its back again, Des only feels small stings on his feet and hands. Benjamin shakes itself and the backpack, blood dripping down its head even as it shifts him back to the front, and keeps running.

The concrete garden area outside the front is pale in the moonlight. There are two big metal doors blocking them off from where Des can hear streets and cars and people.

Benjamin doesn’t even stop. Like a magic trick, it springs forward so Des thinks for a moment that they’re falling before it catches itself on one hand, flipping over and over and over, higher and higher until with a last push they’re flying, properly actually flying through the air, high above the gates and the cars and the people, and, and everything.

They land hard on the pavement, Benjamin rolling around Des like how he thinks Milo’s hamster must feel in its ball, rolling, rolling until it suddenly stops and Des is dizzy and terrified and tired with it all.

“H-hah!” Comes the voice of the poofy teenager in front of them. “I’ve, I’ve caught up with with you! Now, now let that little boy g—!”

Des promptly throws up.

His family pour out of his mouth onto the teenager’s shoes, almost all of them at once, so many that the floaty stuff goes away and he can feel his older brother again.

The one he’d thought was gone forever, crawling up his arm and inside his shirt to join all the others, leaving Des struggling not to cry with feelings of welcome back, you’re home, we’re home, together, all together, beloved—

The poofy teenager hops backwards as Benjamin scoops Des up again. “Urgh! Wait, what? But, I thought, you’re also—?”

The gates across the road SLAM open as the Yeer-not-his-Daddy-thing bursts through them with a roar that no one seems to notice.

“SWEET MOTHER OF CHRIST!!” The poofy teenager screams.

Des gasps even as Benjamin begins running again, his family following along with them. “NO! You can’t say La Virgen’s name like that! It’s rude!!”

The poofy teenager, running next to them, shoots Des a wide-eyed look. “IS THAT WHAT WE SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUR RI-hff, riGHT NOW?!”

The poofy teenager doesn’t seem to be as fast as Benjamin, panting and sweating and slowing as the Yee-monster chases them all down the street and through several alleys.

Des thinks they should leave the poofy teenager behind, if they’re going to be so rude.

But Benjamin reaches out when the poofy teenager trips one more time, does a complicated catch-their-hand-spin-and-lift that ends up with the teenager sitting on Benjamin’s shoulder and clutching at their head.

It’s weird when they come to a stop outside of a big building with tall, big doors.

It’s not another train station which they can use to escape like last time, and the not Daddy is still chasing after them through all the winding streets and alleys, even if it is a bit farther away than before.

“A warehouse?” The poofy teenager asks, staring down. “Wh-why are we stopping outside a warehouse?! That thing’s still coming, we need to go.”

Benjamin raps four times on the door, then two times in rapid succession.

Des hears something shifting and moving behind the door, the rasp of brick on brick like when he, Hugo, Diya, and Maisy played at the abandoned building place behind the playground before Maisy’s mummy found out and yelled at them all to never do it again.

“Ready or not, Des~” The thing that isn’t his Daddy sing-songs, closer than Des wants him to be. “Ready or not,”

Benjamin knocks in the same way again, eyes wide and slightly wild.

“Ready or not,” And Des isn’t looking, hasn’t looked, has tried his best not to look since Benjamin pushed his head down, but the way the poofy teenager twists and gasps with big, frightened eyes tells Des he’s here, he’s here, he’s going to get him. “Here I COME!”

The doors in front of them BANG open.

Des jerks as Benjamin bursts into movement, racing inside.

His family cling to his nose and ears, whispering danger, danger, predator, enemy hive, blood, death, violence, predator, danger.

He doesn’t understand why they’re saying that, there’s nothing in here, just a big rubbishy room—

Something flies over Des’ head, past Benjamin’s ear.

There’s a yell of pain from the thing that isn’t his Daddy.

Des twists, trying to see what it was, where it came from, who threw it, when another flashes past the poofy teenager, making them yelp and lean away and almost fall off of Benjamin’s shoulder.

Des thinks that was, was a bit of metal?? A pipe or something, like when the radiator broke and the strange men had to come to the house and pull long metal things out of the walls.

Something else whistles on the other side of him and he twists in time to see his reflection in a bit of broken glass.

It’s shooting past him exactly straight, like an arrow in cartoons, not in the curvy way that the balls and frisbees thrown at the park do.

“Benjamin, what’s happening??” He yells. When Benjamin doesn’t answer, he frowns and slaps its chin. “Benji!!”

Benjamin still doesn’t answer.

But its eyes dart up to look at something behind Des, and leans forward, tucking Des and the poofy teenager as close as it can and going faster.

Des turns back around—

Glass and brick and pipes and metal and all the other rubbish on the floor of the large room are floating, lifting up and then flying through the air past them, at what’s not his Daddy.

In the air, there’s a boy hovering in place, sort of faded and see through.

His face looks so, so angry.

Worse even than Des’ Daddy when he was mad at him. The sort of angry that means someone’s definitely getting hit, instead of just yelled at.

The boy swells, sharp and hard things flying around him like the halo around La Virgen.

“GET the HELL OUT of MY GRAVE!!” He screams.

The lights explode, all the flying things shooting like arrows, all so, so, sharp and deadly and angry.

Des can’t help yelping, turning his face to hide in Benjamin as they run and run.

The poofy teenager’s screaming sounds silly.

The monster that ate his Daddy just sounds furious.

There’s the sound of doors slamming shut behind them, all the anger and hate muffled behind them as Benjamin keeps going, the sounds of the streets and the people almost quiet after everything in there.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Windows Down, Music Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3730

Warnings: !FATWS Spoilers!, Cursing, Lotsa Fluff, Slight Angst, Talk of PTSD/Flashbacks, No Seatbelts at One Point (WEAR SEATBELTS!)

A/N: The Part I didn’t know I needed. I started writing and this is where it got me. I needed these soft moments after the intensity of the last few parts. I know I said there’d only be one part left, but…I didn’t know this Part would be so long. So three parts for episode 5 it is!

I hope you enjoy this! I know it’s not really a part of the show, but I love the idea and I think both Bucky and the Reader needed it. Plus the show has a lot of leeway this episode because time passes but they kinda skip over traveling and stuff, so I thought I’d give you a glimpse of what it looks like in mine!

Not beta’d, as per usual! All mistakes are mine and please excuse them! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

******************

“So what’s next?” You questioned, your feet hooked onto the bar below the bar you were sitting on so you didn’t fall. Not that you could - Bucky was right next to you, his hand flying to your thigh every time you shifted even a little bit to keep you steady. “Walker’s been arrested, we have the shield, Karli’s in the wind…where does that leave us? Do we have any leads on Karli right now?”

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli, but so far they’ve only found her followers. They’ve searched this camp, and just like the last camp, nothing. She’s gone. And we’ll never find her.”

You huffed at Sam’s words, rubbing your temples as you grumble, “way to look on the bright side.”

“What bright side? There’s not one here, cher. Not this time.”

“Hey.” Bucky snapped. “Back off, Sam.”

You grabbed his forearm and squeezed reassuringly. “Hey! You got your, uh, you got your sleeve back!” You turned at the familiar voice that caused Bucky to scoff lightly and shake his head.

“Torres!”

The kid smiled at you, waving as Bucky pushed off the bars, helping you down (he’d been refusing to let you do anything on your own since you woke up) and started walking towards the door. “Hi, Y/N. It’s been a while.”

“Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam questioned, making Bucky look over his shoulder at the three of you. The former assassin raised an eyebrow at you. You nodded, and he turned around to leave. 

“Alright! Good to know you survived!”

You snickered a bit at the kid. “It’s good to see you.”

Torres turned back to you and grinned. “You too. I really am glad you survived.”

“I know you are, kid.”

Sam looked at you questioningly. “Are you gonna go with him?” You pursed your lips, chewing your cheek, and nodded. “Alright. C’mere.”

You frowned as he lifted his arms, but walked into them anyways. “What’re we doing right now? This isn’t goodbye. We’ve still gotta find Karli.”

“For now.” He responded, setting his chin on your head, careful of your shoulder. “But we don’t have any leads and I’m sure we’ve been benched. So, until we do and we meet again, stay safe. And take care of yourself. And for the love of God, please have that conversation with cyborg, now.”

A small puff of laughter came from you and you nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you later then, Sammy.”

He pressed a kiss to your head, before letting you go. “Later, cher.”

“Bye, Y/N!”

You smiled, waving to Torres. “Bye, kid. Keep out of trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked out the door Bucky disappeared through earlier, turning down the hall to exit the building.

When you got outside, you found Bucky leaning against a wall, narrowed eyes watching the police as they finished the raid. “Do you agree with it?”

“What?”

“These people getting arrested.”

You shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets. “They harbored a criminal.”

He looked at you with a frown, eyebrows knit together and forehead creased. “We harbored a criminal. We broke him out.”

“Technically he broke himself out.” Your joke fell flat, Bucky’s head dropping. “Buck…” You sighed, eyes following a lady as she was shoved into the back of a car. “No. I don’t. I think these people have been through enough.”

“But?” His eyes grew sad as you met his gaze again, making you smile softly at him.

“But we can’t do anything about it right now. So we need to focus on doing what we can and finding Zemo.”

He nodded, reaching for your hand as he straightened and started walking off. You grabbed his fingers, jogging slightly to fall into sync with his strides. He seemed to notice and slowed down slightly. “We already know where he is, though. Don’t we?”

You hummed, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Where else would he be?”

“Anywhere.”

You shook your head. “No. He’s there. Question is…how are you going to take care of him?”

“Sam thinks I’m gonna kill him.”

His blunt statement made you raise an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Licking his lips, he looked down at you, eyes set with certainty. “No.”

Your lips pulled up at his answer, leaning closer into him, shoulders brushing. “Good. Not that I’m an advocate for never killing people ever…it’s just,” you chewed on your cheek, thinking about the previous day’s events. “Revenge and justice are two different things.”

“Yeah.” He agreed softly. “We kinda witnessed that.”

“Yeah…we did.”

He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your shoulders, tenderly avoiding your wrapped wound. “Good thing I contacted Ayo while you were sleeping then, huh?”

“You did?” You looked up at him with a smile as he nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah. And…I’ve been thinking a lot. Since our conversation about Wakanda and Zemo and Sam. You were right.”

A smirk graced your lips, an eyebrow quirking in amusement. “Pardon me? I don’t think I heard you correctly. What was that?”

He rolled his eyes, reaching over with his free hand to shove your head lightly, making you laugh. “You are such a punk sometimes. I’m serious though, doll. I-I’ve been…I dunno…I haven’t been thinking straight. The whole thing with Zemo was wrong and-and Sam didn’t deserve what I was blaming him for.”

You froze in your steps, tugging him to a stop as well, staring at him thoughtfully. Just since that phone call a couple weeks ago he’d grown so much. You could barely believe what he was saying - that he was finally saying it. He was a stubborn ass sometimes, so to hear him say that? It just stunned you. You knew he was a good person, but this…you felt yourself falling more, which you thought was impossible.

“Doll? Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

Your arms raised around his neck, tugging him down into a hug, your lips pressing to his cheek. “I’m just proud of you.” You murmured softly, kissing his temple. He ducked his head, leaning against your shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You held him like for another minute or two, before kissing his temple again. “We should get going. Gotta get to Sokovia before the Dora do.”

He hummed in agreement, pulling you tighter against him and squeezing you slightly, before letting go. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Question.” You said once you two started walking again.

“Possible answer.” He replied, making you elbow him as he chuckled.

“How’re we gonna get to Sokovia?”

He blinked, tilting his head. “Uh…plane? Unless you wanna have a road trip. The plane would only take a couple hours at most and a car, well…I could have us there in under a day with some broken traffic laws.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Know what? I could go for a road trip right now.”

“Yeah?” He grinned at you.

“Yeah. And yes, you can drive. Just don’t get us in the middle of a high speed chase.”

He winked, kissing your head. “No promises.”

**********************

Bucky was actually a very good road trip partner. He made sure you had plenty of your snacks and let you control the music, turning up the volume for your favorite songs, shouting the lyrics to the heavens as you danced in your seat, the windows rolled down, wind ripping through the car, ruffling both of your clothes and hair.

You grinned over at Bucky, bobbing your head to the beat as he stared back at you, his eyes soft and sparkling. “Watch the road, dork!” He chuckled as you shoved his face.

“I’d much rather watch you.”

You felt yourself heat up despite the cool breeze moving through the car. “Have you ever stuck your head out the sunroof?” You suddenly asked him.

He gave you a weird look. “What?” Feeling a bit mischievous, you smirked and unbuckled. “Woah, woah! What are you doing?! But your seatbelt back on!”

“Oh calm down!” You stood on the seat after opening the sunroof, the top half of your body outside the car. He laughed as you whooped and hollered.

“Alright, alright. Sit back down, doll.” He tugged you back in, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

You smiled, putting your seatbelt back on and plopping your feet on the dash. “Like what?”

He turned to look at you, his teeth pulling his bottom lip between them contemplating. “Carefree. Relaxed, even.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your seat. “I don’t get to do it often. But it’s so hard to care right now.” You gestured out to the gorgeous landscape you were moving through, the sunsetting on the horizon. “The wind, the music, the open road. Nothing feels more like freedom.”

“Yeah…yeah. I guess. I’ve never really…been on a road trip. Unless you count going across Germany in that little blue car-”

“Ha! That was not a road trip! That was Steve being a reckless dumbass driver for a few hours.”

He laughed. You’d heard him laugh before, but this was different. Something about the freedom you were talking about made it different. It was nice. And you’d do anything to hear it more often.

“I’ll take you on a real road trip once this is done.” You vowed. “We’ll hit all the states. Even go through Canada to get to Alaska. Nothing but us in a car for weeks. Wherever we wanna go.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

You winked. “You do that.”

Conversation died after that, the only sounds being you and your music with the occasional chuckle from Bucky at your over dramatic dancing. You made a few stops at gas stations, getting food and drinks, before you felt yourself start winding down as the stars came out, winking down at you. You didn’t even realize you drifted off until the car jostled, waking you up.

“Sorry, sleepyhead.” Bucky apologized. “There was a deer. Maybe if you put your seatbelt on you would’ve stayed asleep.”

You rolled your eyes, rubbing at them and blinking. It was still dark out, no hint of the sun peeking out yet. “They’re uncomfortable.” You grumbled, shifting and wincing at your leg which was still asleep. “What time is it?”

“Almost two.” Bucky answered. “Are you okay? Is your shoulder hurting?”

“No. My leg’s just asleep so it feels weird and it’s aching. You want me to drive so you can sleep?”

“Nah, it’s fine. We’ll be there in a few hours. I’ve got it.” 

You hummed, sitting up and digging through your bag for some food. “Hungry?”

“Uh…I’ll just take a bag of pretzels.” Nodding, you grabbed one of the bags and handed it to him. It was quiet, the radio now turned low on some jazzy station you were sure Bucky turned it to once you fell asleep. “I’ve been thinking-”

“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself.” He shot you a bemused look, making you giggle. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“I’ve been thinking of that fight. With Walker.”

You tensed, clearing your throat as you munch on your snack. “Oh?”

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips, setting the bag down on the middle console, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “When you were fighting him…why-why’d you hesitate?”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced over at you quickly, forehead creased. “You had the shield. You were holding your own. I’m sure Steve taught you some stuff…but then…” He trailed off, seemingly trying to find words. “It was like that first fight. On the semi trucks. You hesitated. Got distracted. Why?”

You shrugged, turning back to your food nonchalantly. “I guess I just had a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

“I know you better than that, doll. Please don’t lie to me.” Turning to the window, you just noticed that yours wasn’t down anymore. You look over to his side to see his was only a little cracked open. “I didn’t want you to wake up so I rolled them up. Answer the question.”

Letting out a sigh, you shrugged again. “I’ve been having…flashbacks.”

“Flashbacks?”

You nodded, sipping on your water bottle. “Yeah. Kinda like PTSD, but it’s not. Not really. They’re never traumatic or anything.”

You could see the gears in his head turning, his jaw clenching. “What are they about then?”

“Steve.”

The tension in his shoulders slipped, his head ducking while still keeping his eyes on the road. “Oh…why…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want anyone to worry about me with all the other problems we’re having-”

“Hey.” Your eyes snapped up from where they fell at his sharp tone, his gaze meeting yours. “Don’t ever think that. Ever. You’re not a fucking burden, Y/N. You’re important to me. I-” He cut himself off, shaking his head and looking back out the front. “Does Sam know at least?”

You pursed your lips. “I-I told Sharon?”

He groaned, head falling back against the seat. “Sweetheart…”

“They’re just memories. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is if it’s affecting you on the field. And if it’s gonna get you or someone else hurt-”

Crossing your arms, you shifted in your seat, feeling the ache in your legs from sleeping in that position too long. “What? You don’t trust me now?”

“No! That’s not what I’m saying!”

“What’re you saying, Buck? You can’t have me watching your back because my mind’s messed up right now?” The car came to a halt and you sat up, looking around worriedly to see if any cars were coming. “James, we’re in the middle of the street-”

“Look at me.” You turned to him, only to look away at the intensity of his eyes. “Doll. Look at me.” He repeated tenderly, grabbing your chin between his fingers, making you face him. “I trust you.” His tone was nothing but genuine, and you’d never seen him look so sincere. “With my life, I trust you. But if your head isn’t in it? It’s okay, you just need to tell someone. When did you start trusting me?”

“At the airport in Germany.” You answered quietly.

He tilted his head. You kinda missed his long hair - the way it used to get in his eyes and you’d have to brush it behind his ear. “Even though I could still get triggered?”

“Well, yeah. But that’s different! You wouldn’t have been in your right…mind if you were…triggered…”

He raised an eyebrow as you frowned. “Trusting you and trusting your mental state are two different things. I’d know. Sometimes our brain’s do stupid things and we can’t stop it. But we can get help.”

You sighed, hanging your head. “Okay. Alright. I got it. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just…tell me about it.”

You nodded, before looking at the road. “Okay, okay. But can you drive? We’re still in the middle of the road.”

He chuckled and nodded, starting up the car again. After a moment, he glanced at you. “So?”

Another sigh left your lips, before you told him. You told him what’s triggered you so far and what the memories were about. How it feels when you slip. “It’s like, I remember something and my mind latches onto it and won’t let me out until I relive it again.” He just nodded, never interrupting as you explained what was going on.

It felt good to finally get it off your chest. And it felt good knowing he wasn’t freaking out and pulling you from the mission like you thought he’d do. It was something you hadn’t done in a long time. The last person who sat down and listened to your problems was Steve and the fact that you felt comfortable enough around Bucky to pour out your soul made you realize that Steve was gone. But Bucky was here. And maybe it was time to let go.

Bucky looked over to you when you stopped talking abruptly, cocking his head to the side. “Sweetheart? You alright?”

You lunged forwards, hugging his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. Fortunately for you, he had great reflexes, or else you’d probably be wrapped around a tree. You couldn’t care about the what ifs though. Sniffing, you closed your eyes, a couple tears leaking down your cheeks and landing on the skin connecting his shoulder to his neck.

“Thank you.”

It was so soft and muffled by his shirt, you weren’t sure if he heard it. But then he set his cheek on your head, his hand coming up to run through your hair like you did to him when he needed comfort. “C’mere, cuddle bug.” He cradled your head, shifting you easily so you could lay down comfortably, your legs curled in your seat, your head in his lap, taking extra care that your shoulder wasn’t agitated. “Try to get more sleep, doll. We’ll be there soon.”

You nodded, sleep taking over you once more with Bucky’s fingers in your hair, soft jazz still floating through the air along with the slight whistle of the wind from the crack in his window.

****************

You leaned against the hood of the car, crossing your arms, watching Bucky pull on a shirt. You had stopped at a rest stop to clean up and change, just a few more miles until you got to the memorial.

“Ayo’s there already.” Bucky spoke, shrugging on his jacket. You pushed off the hood of the car to pull him closer by the sides of his jacket, your fingers moving to button it. “I just…I want a couple minutes alone with him.”

You nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

“You trust me right?”

“More than anything.” You confirmed, looking up at him, smoothing his jacket down with your hands.

He nodded, leaning forwards to kiss your forehead. “I just - I just need you to know…I’m not gonna kill him.”

You nodded back, smiling softly at him. “I know.”

“Okay…let’s get going then. Get this over with.”

It didn’t take you long to reach the memorial, only a few more minutes down the main street and then going off down a side road.

Just as Bucky said, the Dora Milaje were already there, waiting for the two of you to show up. Bucky and Ayo had a conversation in Xhosa - which you were really regretting not learning anything more than “hi”, “please”, “thank you”, and “where’s the bathroom?” - before he turned to you.

“Stay with them. Just...I just need a couple minutes.” You nodded, eyes flickering down to the gun he pulled out from his coat pocket. He hooked a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze back to him. “Trust me.”

“Sometimes our brains do stupid things.”

He shook his head, kissing your forehead. “Not this time. ‘Cause I have help.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded. He gave you a reassuring smile, before stepping away, out of the trees to face Zemo. You couldn’t hear what was being said, but you had to admit that when Bucky lifted the gun, your heart skipped a beat. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He promised.

The quiet click of the gun seemed to echo, a pressure lifting off your chest as the bullets spilled from Bucky’s hand, clattering against the ground.

You figured that was the signal, considering Ayo led her badass women out to grab Zemo right after the bullets hit the ground, so you followed them out. You stopped next to Bucky, his hand slipping out of his pocket to wrap around your shoulders, tugging you to his side, your arms wrapping around his waist.

“I was listening to your heartbeat. You get nervous for a second, doll?”

You hummed in response to his question in your ear. “I trust you…but that doesn’t mean you don’t raise my anxiety levels.”

He snickered, kissing your temple, before straightening to listen to what Ayo had to say as she stepped towards you. She informed you both that Zemo would be going to the Raft and told Bucky to stay away from Wakanda for a while; both very fair statements that you weren’t surprised to hear. What you were surprised to hear was Bucky’s next sentence.

“I may have another favor to ask of you.”

Ayo raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to go on. Bucky caught your eye and his lips twitched up into a small smirk, before he faced her again and started speaking Xhosa, making you groan.

After their conversation, Ayo nodded. “We will drop it off here tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.”

You pouted as Ayo turned to walk to their ship, Bucky starting to lead you back to the car. “You’re not gonna tell me what that was about, are you?”

“Nope.”

You huffed. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

He chuckled. “You’ll find out.”

“Soon?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

Bucky shrugged, pulling open the passenger side door for you. “On when Sam wants you to see it.”

You narrowed your eyes, a smile spreading on your face. “You got Sammy a present?”

“Maybe.”

You groaned, sliding into the car before he shut the door, watching him jog to his side. “You’re so annoying.” You spoke once he got in and started the vehicle again.

“If you feel that way, you don’t have to come to Louisiana with me to drop it off.”

Scoffing, you gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shrugged, turning in his seat and putting his hand on the back of your headrest to back out of the spot he parked in. “If I’m so annoying-”

“You’re so dramatic!”

“I thought I was annoying?”

“You’re both!”

He grinned at you, before looking through the windshield, blinking as something occurred to him. “I dunno where we’re going. We have to come back tomorrow morning-”

“Just drive, Buck.”

He blinked at you, eyebrows raising in slight shock. “What?”

You shrugged, nodding your head to the road. “Drive. Wherever we want, remember? Just until tomorrow. We can go back to reality after we pick up Sammy’s gift, but for now-”

“Just drive?” He guessed, the corners of his lips pulling up.

You smirked, shooting him a wink before propping your feet up on the dash again, turning up the radio, and linking your hands behind your head. “Exactly, Buckaroo.”

[charles-rxwlands]

lay all your love on me

okay!! so this is my fic for @magpiencrow's 1.2k writing challenge.

this is based off of the song lay all your love on me, slowed, by putin

pairing: nikolai/reader

rating: general

tags: gn!reader w/ gn pronouns, fluff

summary: falling in love with nikolai lantsov told through several vignettes

or: mindless nikolai/reader fluff with a alina and ivan being little shits

warnings: right off the bat there's a nightmare about drowning in the ocean, and there's one (1) swear word at the end, but other than that, there's nothing

word count: 4.1k

read on ao3

constructive criticism, feedback, and reblogs are greatly appreciated !

I haven't written anything in a while, so i may be a bit rusty, but please enjoy :)

You were drowning, and also pretty damn sure you were going to die out here. Your lungs were on fire, screaming for air, but you couldn't emerge from the ocean for long enough to suck in a breath. Sure, your hand or head breached the surface every now and then, but a wave would come crashing down on you immediately after, destroying all your progress.

      The undulating waves threw you around like a football - a very pathetic one, at that. As hard as you tried to fight the current, it still insisted on moving against you (stubborn bastard), so really you weren't going anywhere. Just pathetically bobbing around in the same pathetic place. You couldn't feel your limbs - the only thing you could feel was the agonising ache in your chest. It was as if your arms and legs had frozen over along with your will to live.

      How easy it would be to just... 

...let the ocean take you...

      Suddenly, someone grabbed you by the wrist. You screamed, which was a mistake; immediately, salty seawater filled your mouth, making you gag and choke. Nevertheless, you valiantly tried to release yourself from whoever - whatever? - had their hold on you. 

      "Y/n, Y/n! Relax, darling, relax," a voice said, sounding out of breath. "It's me."

      You whirled your head around. Sagging with relief, you gasped out the name of your saviour. "Nikolai."

      "Yes. Yes, Y/n, my love, it's me. It's Nikolai," he soothed, running his hands over your wet hair.

      "Nikolai," you breathed. "Nikola-" - a wave reared up on its hind legs, ready to come crashing down onto your friend, ready to take him away - "no, no, Nikolai, NO-!"

   

You startled, eyes flying open. You were shaking like a leaf. Were you cold, or was it just the adrenaline from the nightmare still making its course? You shook your head as if to rid your mind of the dream. It wasn't real. Nikolai had saved you that night. It was fine. It wasn't real.

      But it could very well have been real, a traitorous voice in your mind whispered. Scowling, you cursed your pessimistic side. Even if a wave had separated you two, Nikolai would have fought tooth and nail to get to you again. You would have done the same. After all, you were childhood friends, and you knew better than anyone that Nikolai didn't let go of his loved ones so easily.

      He hadn't wanted you to accompany him on his journey overseas as Sturmhond. You insisted otherwise, channeling some of Nikolai's stubbornness that had rubbed off on you. ("You're not getting rid of me that easily, idiot. So let me come, unless you want me to steal your kneecaps."). 

      A half-smile appeared on your face as you thought back to the memory. Slowly, you got up from your bed. Your blanket was draped over your shoulders. You slipped out of your cabin quietly, walking down the hallway until you found yourself in front of Nikolai's room. He stirred in his sleep when you entered. The door creaked slightly, but it didn't seem like his distress was because of the noise.

      You sat on the edge of his bed. Nikolai, previously facing away, turned over to face you. His eyes were still screwed shut, eyebrows knitted together and an unhappy expression on his face. You frowned. 

      "Nikolai." you nudged him gently. "Wake up. You're okay, just wake up. It's just a dream."

      He opened his eyes, blinking at you. "Y/n?"

      "Hi," you said. A lock of golden hair fell over his forehead, and upon instinct, you reached to brush it away. He let you, not uttering any of his usual complaints. 

      "You were gone," he mumbled, undoubtedly referencing his nightmare. "I- I couldn't save you, and you were gone." 

      You shifted into a more comfortable position - your whole body was on the bed now, with your back against the headboard. He leaned his head against your chest, and you ran your fingers through his hair. "It wasn't real. It's okay. You saved me - I'm not going anywhere, 'Lai."

      "Me either," he agreed, wrapping his arms around your middle. A beat of silence. Then, "Thank you."

      You were more than content to fall asleep like this. Even if it meant waking up with an ache in your neck. Judging from the way he was curled up, practically drinking in your presence, Nikolai felt the same way.

      What a feeling it was to have found solace in Nikolai Lantsov, and to know he had found solace in you, too.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai's pov

Nikolai watched from the corner of the ballroom as you laughed at one of Ivan's jokes. One would say that he was scowling, but the Prince of Ravka didn't scowl. No - he was simply observing your conversation with the Heartrender with visible distaste. He was not scowling. And he was not jealous.

      You and Ivan were smiling at each other, standing by the refreshments table, mouths moving quickly, the both of you obviously interested in whatever you were talking about. You threw your head back in a laugh. You looked gorgeous. Nikolai wanted to make you laugh like that - more than he wanted to admit.

      The last straw was when Ivan lay a hand on your shoulder, and then snaked his arm around you. You didn't seem perturbed by his touch - no, actually, you leaned into it. He bent down to whisper something in your ear that made you duck your head in embarrassment and lightly hit his chest. 

      Nikolai's glare deepened, if that were even possible. Okay, fine, maybe he was jealous. Did he even have the right to be jealous, though? It wasn't as if he was dating you, as much as he'd like to be.

And oh boy, he'd like to be. 

      Suddenly, Alina appeared at his side, seemingly out of thin air. He flinched. "Alina." 

      The girl in question had a mischievous look in her eye. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the long, flowy sleeves of her dress falling just past her wrists. The bottom half of her gown was a sparkly gold, whereas the top half was a dark blue. The two colours faded into each other at the middle, creating a gradient effect. It was a beautiful dress. You had helped Alina pick it out yourself, if he remembered correctly.

      "Hello, loverboy." she poked him in the side, grinning knowingly. "How's your crush on Y/n going for you?"

      "I don't have a crush on them, Alina, for Saint's sake."

      "Oh, is that so? You do seem... ah, what was the word... utterly whipped for them, contrary to what you just said," she said, tilting her head to the side, feigning innocence.

      "Am not," he argued. "I-," Nikolai paused, taking notice of you and Ivan walking past a couple metres away. Unfortunately, you were too engrossed in your current conversation to notice him. His eyes lingered on you. He only looked away when you disappeared back into the throng of people. 

      Alina let out a triumphant 'ha!'. 

      He directed his attention back to her and glared. "Alina, I swear-,"

      "Utterly. Whipped," she mouthed.

      "I will behead you," he threatened.

      She laughed. "In all seriousness, I really don't think Y/n and Ivan like each other like that," Alina said.

      "Well, of course not," he agreed. "Y/n very clearly has eyes for me. I can't say I blame them - who could resist all this? Everyone's all over me, as I'm sure you've noticed." 

      Alina stared at him pointedly.

      "Ah, except for you, of course. You seem to be the only one immune to my charm and charisma. An odd one, you are."

       She rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother," she groaned. "Just swear to me that you'll tell Y/n you like them soon. Within a week. Swear on... your dignity."

      "My dignity?" Nikolai drawled.

      "Yes, your dignity, because if you don't fess up soon, I'll have to tell Y/n about your crush on them myself," she grinned smugly, and darted off before Nikolai could retort. 

      He sighed. As he saw it, he had three options:

      1. Blackmail Alina (because of course she wouldn't give in to simple bribery)

      2. Get on his knees and beg Alina to not tell you of his massive crush (there! he admitted it; he had a massive crush on you! One that he'd been harbouring for just over a year now, too)

      3. Listen to Alina, and confess on his own terms

      All three were mortifying, and things he absolutely didn't want to do. However, the last was considerably easier to do, and came with the most benefits and the least consequences. You had already seen him through his most embarrassing moments (and he through yours) so even if you rejected him, the humiliation would be minimal. 

      And maybe he wanted to confess. And maybe there was hope that you liked him back. Nikolai wasn't stupid - he knew when people fancied him. He suspected you liked him back, but then again, that could've been wishful thinking, or maybe he was misreading the entire thing.

      He didn't even understand why he was so jealous of the way Ivan and you had interacted. Before he had fallen heads over heels in love with you, his childhood best friend, people flirting with you hadn't been a problem. He'd encouraged it, even. But now, bitterness flared up inside of him every time he saw someone getting a bit too cozy with you. 

      In short, his feelings for you had completely destroyed his facade of smooth, suave, sexy Prince of Ravka. And it kind of terrified him how poorly he hid it.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai had been acting strange lately, and it was bothering you. You feared the worst - had he finally caught on to your crush? You thought you'd been subtle until Ivan had approached you at the most recent party. Apparently, the scowl on your face as you watched Nikolai flirt with the guests had been fierce enough to kill.

      Ivan had given you (unsolicited) advice, telling you to be straightforward and direct. That was what he'd done with Fedyor, after all, and that had worked out well.

      You were pacing around your room. Ivan was perched on your bed, watching you have a borderline nervous breakdown like one would watch the view. 

      "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Ivan?" you demanded. "I'm about to make a life or death decision, and you're enjoying it."

      He chuckled. "I wouldn't call this a life or death decision, Y/n. If Nikolai rejects you, he rejects you, and it's his loss. If he reciprocates, good, and you'll be free to frolic in the meadows with him, all fine and dandy."

      You stared at him, your expression communicating, "Did you really just say that?", very clearly.

      "Okay, okay, fine, I'll be serious." Ivan relented. "Just tell him, Y/n. What's the worst that could happen?" 

      Just as you were about to respond - "Well, I don't know, what if he rejects me, things become eternally awkward between us, and our 10 year long friendship is ruined because I couldn't keep my mouth shut?" - someone knocked at the door. You opened it to find Nikolai waiting. His hair was perfectly styled, as always. He wore a dark turquoise suit jacket, and a simple white dress shirt underneath. The ghost of a smile appeared on your face; you had chosen the colour for him.

      "Hi, Nikolai," you greeted. 

      "Hello," he said. "Come on a walk with me. It's a lovely day outside, and both of us have been dreadfully busy lately - we may not get another chance to spend time together, I'm afraid."

      "Oh! Of course, just let me grab more suitable shoes- I'll be out in a minute- Ivan, move." You rummaged around your room in search of the sandals Nikolai had gifted you for your most recent birthday. Ivan flashed you a grin.

      "Tell him!" he whispered as you ducked out the door.

      You hoped you didn't seem too jittery as you took Nikolai's arm, even if your insides were filled with butterflies. He seemed deep in thought for the first few minutes of your walk. It wasn't until you were both outside that he finally spoke.

      "I hope you don't mind me asking, Y/n, but what was Ivan doing in your room?" he asked. 

      The question caught you off guard. Why was he so concerned about you and Ivan? It wasn't as if-

      Oh.

      Oh.

      "Nikolai, don't tell me- are you jealous?" you exclaimed.

      "Just answer the question, Y/n," he grumbled, which was enough of an answer for you.

      You laughed, only feeling a bit bad that you were so amused. Nikolai Lantsov, jealous. You found that incredibly funny. "Oh, I'm sorry for laughing," you apologised, even as another giggle escaped your mouth. "You don't have to worry, Ivan and I are strictly friends."

      He didn't seem convinced. "But the two of you at the party a few days ago-,"

      You cut him off. "Nikolai. I promise that there is nothing romantic going on with Ivan and I. And besides, I don't think I'm anywhere near his type."

      "Ivan likes men, Nikolai," you supplied, sensing his confusion. "Honestly, you need to keep up with gossip - he and Fedyor have been going strong for nearly three months now."

      "Oh," Nikolai said.

      "Yeah, oh."

      "And, uh, do you? Like men, I mean?" 

      You bit back another laugh. "Yes, I do. One man in particular, actually." 

      "Is that so? Care to clue me in on who this man is?"

      "You." 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai's pov

"You."

      As soon as that single word came out of your mouth, Nikolai's brain short-circuited, and several alarms blared in his mind. ALERT! ALERT! THE PERSON YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH LIKES YOU BACK! 

      He was too stunned to speak, which was definitely a first. So, naturally, he didn't speak, but instead leaned in to kiss you. His lips brushed chastely against yours. A pause. 

      "I- I'm really sorry, Y/n, I should have asked beforehand-,"

      "Nikolai." you took his face in your hands. "Shut up." 

      And then you kissed him, and if his brain had been short-circuiting before, this was a full blown system failure. Sparks flew inside of him, and he was acutely aware of you and you only. It was a wonderful feeling, one that he immediately missed when you pulled away.

      "Wow," you said. 

      He grinned. "I'm that good of a kisser, huh?"

      When usually you would come up with a witty response, you just smiled. It was a smile Nikolai was pretty sure he'd die to see again. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Falling in love with Nikolai had been a long process. Your simple crush developed into something deeper like a leaky faucet dripping - slowly, but steadily. And then the realisation that you were in love with him hit you like a tidal wave. Drowning you, consuming every inch of your being, but not necessarily in a bad way.

       You came to your epiphany while laying awake in bed one night after a whole day spent with the esteemed King of Ravka. It was a wonder that you'd managed to spend a whole 10 hours or so in his company without getting fed up, Tamar had teased. He did annoy you - and had today - but you bullied him back plenty enough. It was easy being with him. Easier than you were used to. 

       You loved the way his eyes sparkled after correcting someone on their use of the word 'impossible'. Loved how he devoted himself to his country so selflessly. Loved how he smiled at you so genuinely and lovingly, even when you didn't have the energy to show your love in return after a bad day. Saints, you loved him so, so much, and you were so in love with him, too, and-

       Holy shit. You were in love with Nikolai.

       You were in love. With Nikolai.

       A childish giggle bubbled up inside of you, and you sighed happily. What a feeling it was to be in love with the King of Ravka, even if he didn't know it yet. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

You twirled a small flower around in your hands as you walked side by side with Nikolai, your shoulders brushing occasionally. The taller blades of grass tickled your ankles, and a gentle breeze weaved through your hair. The sun peeked out from behind a few clouds, warming your face.

     Nikolai intertwined your fingers, sighing in content. He craned back his neck to meet the sunshine, eyes fluttering shut. He looked stunning, just standing there with his almost otherworldly beauty as light spilled over his fine features, highlighting every detail.

     "I'm in love with you," you blurted suddenly. "I love you, and I'm also in love with you, so. Yeah. I'm in love with you, Nikolai Lantsov."

     You gave yourself a mental round of applause for your eloquence and tact.

      He blinked. "Oh." The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, turning into a full-fledged grin when he finally processed your words. "Oh. I'm... I'm in love with you, too, Y/n L/n."

      You beamed back at him, and cupped his face in your hands. You gently ran your fingers against his cheeks, tracing a line down to the base of his chest. The fabric of his shirt was thin and soft, unlike the suffocating material his suits were made of. Lovingly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you close. Your heart fluttered. Saints, you adored Nikolai. More than you could put into words. 

      "I love you," you whispered. "I love you so much, so intensely that it consumes me, and I'm drowning in it. But instead of it being hard to breathe, it makes breathing easier. It makes everything easier." 

      You interrupted your little speech by kissing him, just because it felt appropriate, and continued. "I was so lost without you, Nikolai. I didn't realise it, because as I've proved time and time again, I'm more than capable of holding my own-" you smirked as he rolled his eyes at the jab to his overprotectiveness "-but I was. I was a boat lost at sea, floating around in the waves, with no destination and no goal except surviving. Then you came along, and gave me solace. You were my salvation. You and your endearingly stupid jokes and your wild yet grounded behaviour. You're my anchor, Nikolai." 

      He laughed, but not in the mean way. In the happy way. 

      "I would pay you back with a monologue of my own," he said. "but all I can think of right now is how perfect you are, and how much I want to kiss you."

      Your smile widened, if that were even possible. You met him midway, lips connecting almost desperately. The only coherent thought running through your brain was 'Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai.'

      Nikolai.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

"That one looks like a dragon," you said, pointing out a lumpy cloud in the sky.

      Nikolai tilted his head to the left. It was rather cute - he looked like a puppy, trying to figure out what its owner was saying. His right eyebrow curved in an upward arch (you still had no idea how he managed to raise a single eyebrow at a time), and he pouted slightly. Adorable.

      "I don't see it," he deadpanned.

      You sighed and shook your head, dismissing the cute puppy ideology. "Nevermind," you huffed. As hard as you tried to pretend you were upset with him, a smile teased at the corners of your mouth, anyway.

      "I'm sorry, darling, but I really don't!" he exclaimed, flopping back into the picnic blanket you two had laid out. Really, it wasn't even a picnic blanket. It was just a blanket. The two of you hadn't had time to find a proper one before embarking on your impromptu picnic. Nikolai, ever the improviser, had then brandished a quilt from Saints knew where. You suspected it came from Vasily's room, because who else would be pompous enough to own a red velvet blanket the size of China?

      You dramatically exhaled again. "I already said nevermind. Not all of us can be blessed with a creative vision such as mine, after all."

      Nikolai laughed. And Saints, the sound was downright melodic. You didn't even want to begin thinking about all the things you'd do to hear it one more time.

      A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Eventually, he began stroking your palm with his callouses fingers. You bit back a smile, and linked your pinkies together. A gathering of clouds mostly covered the sun - enough to allow only a bit of warm, gold light to seep out. You wondered briefly how Nikolai looked right now, basking underneath the faint sunshine. 

      The answer came to you easily, even without looking at him: fucking beautiful. 

      However, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of staring at him. The last time he had caught you gaping at him like a lovesick fool, he had teased you endlessly. It was ridiculous. It wasn't as if he didn't stare at you. No, actually. He stared at you all the time. In fact, he was doing it right now.

      You bit back a grin when you felt his eyes on you. But before you could tease him for it, he got up suddenly, offering you a hand.

      "Come on," he urged. "Follow me."

      "Where to?" you questioned curiously.

      He smirked. Tugged on your hand. Winked. "You'll see." 

      "Right, that's not cryptic at all," you muttered. 

      Eventually, after a minute or so of walking (and plenty of you trying to weasel more information out of him) the two of you had seemed to reach your destination. A huge tree hung above you, offering its shade. You plopped down, but Nikolai remained standing.

      Strangely, he was looking rather nervous. Repeatedly tugging at the collar of his beige button-up shirt, and kicking at the grass. 

      "Y/n, darling, don't just sit there, you're making me nervous," he whined. 

      You giggled, but stood up anyway. "I could say the same about you. What's on your mind, dear?"

      He took a deep breath, and looked you dead in the eyes. "I love you, Y/n. I love you, and I'm in love with you. I always have, and always have been. It's just- you're wonderful. And intelligent. And charming. And I am so, so glad you are my partner - in the romantic sense, and the platonic sense. If I'm being honest, I'm quite sure I'd be tearing at the seams without you to sew me back together every time I do something particularly foolish. 

      And I hope you'll always be there to ground me. Because I will always be there for you. Th-there's no other way to say this, my darling, but I'd quite like to spend the rest of my life with you, so..."

      He brandished a dark blue box from his back pocket (this probably wasn't the time, but you had to mention that you could never fit something that large in your pocket. Why did men's clothing always have bigger pockets?) and got down on one knee. 

      "Will you do me the honour of marrying me, Y/n?" he finished.

      Holy fuck. Holy mother of Saints. Holy everything. Was this real? Saints. This really was real, wasn't it? Nikolai Lantsov was proposing to you.

      A sob escaped from your throat, and you nodded frantically, not wanting him to think you were upset. "Yes," you said. "Saints, Nikolai, yes."

      He smiled. You knew that he smiled a lot, but this smile was different. Usually, he just grinned or smirked in a devilish way - this was more of a beam. He looked so genuinely happy (genuinely happy, because of you!) that it made your heart soar, and you were pretty sure you fell in love with him all over again for the second time. You'd never get tired of it, though. Not when it came to Nikolai (Nikolai, your husband-to-be!). Never when it came to Nikolai.

      You soon found yourself enveloped in a hug. He spun you around, both of you laughing (and crying). When he set you down, you could have sworn you saw his eyes welling up.

      "Now, my love, those better be happy tears," he tutted.

      "Of course they're happy tears, you stupid puppy dog!" you sniffed. "I love you."

      He beamed into your hair. "I love you, too, Y/n."

      What a feeling it was to be in love with Nikolai Lantsov, and to know that he was in love with you, too.

[green-ville]

Songs mentioned in this work in order: You've Lost That Loving Feeling by The Righteous Brothers. These Boots Are Made or Walkin' by Nancy Sinatra. One Way or Another by Blondie. You're So Vain by Carly Simon. The Promise by When In Rome. Angeleyes by ABBA. Take My Breath Away by Berlin. I've Had The Time of My Life by Billy Medley and Jennifer Wernes.

All of these I recommend cause they're so good, and if you like the songs from Top Gun, you'll probably like these.

This was literally so fun to write. The singing scene just fit so well in my head and it makes me smile, so I hope you enjoy it as well!

Minors DNI. 18+

"Nah, it's a nice job. And they're not so bad. We don’t really interact at all. Some of the more observant ones will talk to me, like Natasha and Bob. They're good."

"At least they're not mean," her friend offered. "Being ignored is better than being degraded."

"You think I'd let myself get degraded? Please. Even if my dad weren't who he was, I handle my own."

"Oh please, you can't even handle your beer."

"I'm sorry," she stressed the word, "that alcohol makes me tired. Maybe if this conversation was decent I'd be mentally invested in staying awake."

Jenny laughed, smile bright. "Go get me another beer, I can't handle you."

"I had to pee anyway."

"You always have to pee!"

"Some of us are born with small bladders!"

Ottilie scooted out of the booth, making her way to the bathroom. It was her second time using the bathroom and they had been there for an hour. She didn't use the bathroom this much at work (she rarely got the chance to) so it was her hypothesis that her body made up for it by making her pee every half hour when there was a bathroom reliably nearby.

She despised it.

She touched up her makeup and hair before leaving. Her lipstick needed another swipe because her inner lips were wearing from pressing against a glass. She also had a few baby hairs slipping out of their formed hold.

Ottilie made her way to the bar, a lengthy struggle as it was packed as normal. Lots of regulars in unformed beige that she recognized, but they wouldn't recognize her. She got to the bar, forearms resting against the cleaned wood, and she waited to catch a bar attendent's gaze.

It was five minutes later and she still had not figured out how to do it. Did they think she was just standing there for fun or was she really that easily ignored?

Her shoulder was tapped. She jolted, surprised, and started to turn.

"Excuse me, excuse me miss?"

She faced a blond haired man she recognized, a flush immediately on her cheeks.

A second man cut between them, saving her from looking like a tomato. "Hey, hey, don't worry, I'll take care of this." He had his back to her, clean cut beige outfit blending him in with everyone else.

Her brows knit in confusion. She wasn't quick to turn away and the next move had her brows rising.

The blond man tapped the second man's shoulder. They both ducked but in opposite directions. The blond pointed a finger at her, an 'off' microphone appearing in his hand out of nowhere.

He started to sing.

"You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss, your lips."

He was tone deaf. She smiled, unable to help how stupid this was. He wouldn't recognize a key if it was spelled out in front of him. Or rather, flying at him.

"There's no tenderness, like before, in your fingertips," the second man continued, much more tone savvy and hitting the notes. The two men swayed back and forth, snapping their fingers at each change of direction.

"You're trying hard not to show it," the blond continued and at the next word, the other men and women in beige joined.

Was this practiced?

"Baby. But baby, believe me I know it. You've lost, that loving feeling." With more people, the main man wasn't nearly as tone deaf. They actually sounded surprisingly good. "Woah, that loving feeling. You've lost that loving feeling now it's gone, gone, gone, woah. Badum, badum, badum –"

Ottilie held up her hands. There was immediate silence, eagerness growing with bated breaths. She had the eyes of the entire bar on her and the attention didn't make her uneasy. It wasn't that she avoided attention, it just didn't come naturally to her.

"If you can answer one question for me, I'll do whatever you want tonight."

She wasn't going to raise a single finger.

Jake Seresin stepped forward, grinning. "Ask away sweetheart."

She grinned to match his. He really was a looker. "What's my name?"

"I'd love to find out so I'm saying the right name later."

Ottilie clapped her hands with a sharp laugh, leaning back, forearms resting against the counter. She was smiling, all teeth and happy. "Unfortunately the only name you'll be saying later remains to be your own, as that was the wrong answer. Hey Phoenix, you know my name?"

The woman's voice came from behind her, on the opposite side of the bar. The woman likely had a pool stick and beer in her hands. "Sure do girlie."

"And uh, Bob, you know my name?"

"Please don't make me."

"That was a yes," Ottilie answered. "They cared to learn my name after working with me for two weeks. What's your excuse?"

"You're saying I've seen you before but I'd never forget a face like yours."

She laughed at what may have been the oldest line in the book. "Jenny, I'm gonna need your help with this one."

Scooting. Shuffling. Then, "excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me."

Her raven haired friend appeared, standing right at her side. She looked Jake Seresin up and down, nodding in consideration. She turned to Ottilie.

"Copy it with Nancy?"

"Exactly what I was thinking."

Jenny came to stand in front of Ottilie. They were both smiling at each other like idiots, having never practiced this before but managing to set up for it like they did this every night.

Ottilie tapped her friends shoulder. They ducked down, both of them opposite ways, and Ottilie popped up, pointing to the blond looker.

"You keep saying, you got something for me." He looked at her like she was gold in the mines. His eyes were the brightest thing in the room and her heart thundered in her chest. She was completely awake now. Not even a pint of beer could put her to rest. "Something you call love, but confess."

Jenny came to her side, fist to her mouth with an invisible microphone. "You've been a messing, where you shouldn'ta been a messin," the word was dragged out, voice carrying the syllables with honey. "Yeah."

"And now someone else is getting all your best," Ottilie finished, the two of them close together, stepping back and forth, in sync with the imaginary beat.

They took up the next patch together, bringing in their fake microphones together, heads against each other. "These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do. One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you." The last note was low and with their voices, they struggled. Their waveryness was overlooked however, as Jake Seresin held up his hands, not one to be outdone or turned down.

He was quick on the comeback. "One way or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya. One way or another, I'm gonna win ya, I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya. One way or another, I'm gonna see ya. I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya. One day, maybe next week, I'm gonna meet ya, I'm gonna meet ya, I'll meet ya – "

"He walked into the party, like you were walking into a yacht. Your hat strategically dipped below one eye. Your scarf, it was apricot. You had one eye in the mirror, as you watched yourself Gavotte. And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner. They'd be your partner, and –

Her head leaned back into Jenny's, the two of them singing the words together again. "You're so vain. You probably think this song is about you. You're so vain! I'll bet you think this song is about you, don't you? Don't you?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say. I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be. But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me. I promise, I promise you I will."

Ottilie turned to her friend, "Keep thinking, bout his angeleyes. Keep thinking, aaaahhhh," she dragged the note out softly, two hands over her heart.

Jenny shook her head, a firm rock to her slipping landslide. "Last night I was taking a walk along the river, and I saw him together with a young girl. And the look that he gave her made me shiver, 'cause he always used to look at me that way. And I thought maybe I should walk right up to her and say. Ah ha ha, it's a game he likes to play."

Ottilie picked up where she left off. "Look into his angel eyes, one look and you're hypnotized." She gave him a wink, "he'll take your heart and you must pay the price. Look into his angel eyes, you'll think you're in paradise. And one day you'll find out he wears a disguise. Don't look too deep into those angel eyes," she was intentfully stepping forward, hand raising to rest against his jaw, thumb caressing his face. The eye contact was damning. "Oh no no no no."

He had no response.

He thought he had won.

She slid into a grin. "Now if you'll excuse me, it's past my bedtime and I have a very important day job."

"More important than keeping this land safe?"

Visibly, he hadn't eaten anything in the last ten minutes, but he found a way to be full of it.

She lightly pat his cheek and retracted her hand. "I keep your plane up and running sweetheart." The ball finally dropped. She grabbed Jenny's hand, pulling the girl to her side and linking their arms. "Who do you think fixes it after your daily crashlandings?"

They walked past the group, splitting the crowd after having succeeded in keeping the attention of every patron of the bar.

"Watching every motion in my foolish lover's game. On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame. Turning and returning to some secret place inside. Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say. . ."

Jenny's hand was on the door, but Ottilie had stopped. Jenny was looking at her, words silent but incredibly loud.

Don't do it. Girl, do not do it.

I'm gonna do it.

Women everywhere are disappointed in you. Congratulations on disappointing women.

She wasn't singing the next words as she turned slowly. They were drawn out, building up the dramatic appeal of 'what was she going to do?'. "I've. . .had. . .the time of my life. . . " Was she reading an epic poem or being a young dumb fool? The world may never know. "And I owe it all to you. . .Learn my name and I'll let you buy me a drink."

The partner in crime jumped onto the blond's shoulders. "He shoots, he SCORES!"

The crowd was oddly invested in this as it sounded like the favorite soccer team had just won the championship (she didn't know soccer, she thought they had a championship, right?). There was uproar and cheering as she left with her friend, laughing just as loudly as they entered the dark of the night.

"You're terrible!" Jenny exclaimed.

"I tried!"

"Tried what, to get into his pants?"

"No, that just came naturally. Dude, he's attractive. Did you smell him? Oh my God he smells nice."

"Women, everywhere, disappointed," Jenny reminded.

Ottilie rolled her eyes. "I'm an engineer in the Navy, I've helped forward women enough – and you're a secretary so shut up! You put women back thirty years!"

"I actually put women back a lot more. My plan is to find a husband and become a housewife."

"Women, everywhere, disappointed," Ottilie said, leg swinging over her bike. Jenny got on behind her, arms going around her waist.

"Yeah they're not the first people I'm disappointing. I'm striving for equality by disappointing everyone equally."

"Your genius is almost incomprehensible."

"What can I say, I am great."

Her engine roared with extra gas and Ottilie kicked off the ground, rolling forward. Speed picked up quick until her short hair was blowing back, wind slicing into her and taking off the nerves that came with flirting with Jake Seresin, a student of her dad's.

~

"You totally set him up!" She called over the wind.

"I did not!"

"Dad, mom's told me the story of how you pulled that stunt on her! He sang the same song!"

"I may have mentioned the move to him, but I never encouraged him to use it on my own daughter! In fact, I have half a mind – "

"That's being generous."

He gave her a look.

She smiled.

"I have half a mind to have a serious talk with him. I thought we agreed no Navy men?"

"No, you said that, and I said, 'Dad, my standards are too high'."

"Did your standards lower?"

"No, he's just incredibly hot."

Her dad made the typical dad sound of 'blagh!' at the idea of his daughter finding someone attractive. She laughed and sped up, going onto her back tire. She sat down as he sped to join her, and they ended up racing at a very slightly not necessarily law approved pace.

They split up at the base, Ottilie telling her dad to 'give Jake a kiss for me'.

Then she started her day.

The sweat came early on, and when she got a call for a project indoors, energy found her and she nearly ran inside. She was with her work friends, all of them eager for a length project indoors. That joy at being inside quickly turned to not joy as they found how lengthy of a project it was going to be.

Her will to live could be described in many ways. Nonexistent. See through. Microscopic.

She didn't even bother leaving work because it was a few hours until she was supposed to arrive again anyway. She found a place to sleep and she slept. She didn't even get to sleep the entire time because she was woken.

She looked like she was on drugs with her red eyes, her bags, and her disoriented blinking.

"Hi, yeah, I hate to do this to you, but there's a light out in my office and I was wondering if you could fix it?"

There was a light out in this higher ranking officers head as well.

"Is it morning?" She asked, looking around her, seeing only a dark room because there were no windows to natural light.

"Yes."

"Then open your curtains."

". . .You're Mitchell's kid, aren't you."

"Top Gun, the brightest and best," she mumbled, pushing up into a stand. "Yeah yeah, I'll get you a lightbulb. Try not to need me for anything else while I get it."

It really was a miracle she had had her job for so long. No one thought she'd last, herself included.

She got a singular lightbulb from an unmarked closet and found Admiral Cyclone's room. How did she know it was him without ever reading his name tag? Intuition. And she was right because he waved her in when she knocked. He was on a call so she kept quiet.

She quietly made noise moving one of his wooden chairs across the ground. She quietly made more noise moving a second chair over. She actually kept quiet standing on the two chairs, balancing in a very questionable manner between the two of them and reaching for the ceiling. She reached the light fixture and began to unscrew it. Dust rained down right into her face and she quietly died of dust in her lungs.

She pulled the lightbulb out and stuck it in her pocket, replacing it with the newer one. She got down from her OSHA violation set up and made a move to return the chairs to their designated spot.

Admiral Cyclone held up a hand.

She nodded, backing up, hands up and head down. "Of course sir. Have a good day sir."

She was still bowing as she left the newly lighted room, closing the door behind her.

Ottilie remained stationary in front of the door, staring at it dead ahead. She silently burst out laughing, walking down the hallway. She was hilarious. She really was. Sometimes her own hilarity. . .it scared her. No one person should be this hilarious but here she stood.

The real day started soon enough and she was back outside again. It only got hotter. She was desperate for an excuse to go indoors and when that excuse came, she wondered if she had caused this by asking for a reason.

Bob and Phoenix were in the med bay. She didn't rush over, her own anxiety keeping her from running straight there and bursting through the doors like a madman. She wanted to, but she waited. Her shift ended and she was actually allowed to leave. She took a shower. She changed into the clothes meant for yesterday. She found her way to the med bay.

Ottilie poked her head in the door containing her two friends. "Yoohoo, comedic relief has arrived."

Phoenix and Bob were in the same bed, sitting criss cross, playing cards. They smiled at her when she arrived.

"No, we ordered an architect, not an engineer."

Ottilie fake laughed. "You suck Bob and no one will ever love you."

"Braid my hair?" Phoenix asked.

"Pilots are so lazy, can't change their own lightbulbs, can't do their own hair."

"Fill my blinker fluid?" Bob asked as she sat down behind Phoenix.

"Bob, that huts. It really does."

She combed her fingers through Phoenix's hair, leading the flow directly back to her so it was out of her face. She was on her knees to be able to get close to the hairline.

"So uh, what's with you and Bagman?" Phoenix asked, tone suggestive. "I thought you had standards."

"Well dad, I find that when a boy sings a song for you in front of a crowd, and when he returns fire after you musically reject him, that's reason to give him a chance."

"My ears are still bleeding after hearing him," Bob said. "Finally found something he's not good at and I still suffer – "

There was a knock on the door. The three of them turned.

"What is this, Beetlejuice?" Bob questioned.

"As I live and breathe," Jake Seresin grinned, coming into the room, eyes not on his recently 'injured' teammates, but her. "If it isn't Ottilie Mitchell."

"Looks like someone did his homework."

"Care to know how I found out? I was walking past Admiral Cyclone's office – "

"Oh God."

"And he was talking to Captain Mitchell. I just happened to overhear something about Cyclone being on a very important phone call as wooden chairs scrape across wooden floors, creating a 'God-awful ruckus' for a 'damn lightbulb'."

Phoenix was already chuckling.

"Hey, he should be mad at no one but himself. That asshat woke me up, pretended to apologize about waking me up, and asked me to fix the light in his office. It's morning; he has an office with windows. Open the blinds!"

Phoenix laughed at half volume, restrained as to not cause too much movement with someone else's hands in her hair. Bob chuckled which for him, was an unrestrained laugh.

"The resemblance to Maverick is uncanny," he said with a shake of his head.

Her brow arched. "So if my dad was a woman you'd be trying to do him as well? Oh my God, déjà vu. That's how I popped out. Title IX really needs to be talked about more."

"I think Bagman's already trying to do your dad. I think I saw him drooling earlier – "

"Phoenix, you're one to talk. Didn't you crash into a mountain because you were too busy dreaming about him?"

"I'm gagging. This is my dad, people."

Phoenix twisted her head when her finished braid dropped down. "Sorry girl, your dad's hot."

She visibly gagged and plopped back onto the terrible military hospital pillows. "Nightmares. I will have them."

"Then let's give you something good to think about instead. Hard Deck. 8 pm tonight."

"Can't. I haven't been home in over 36 hours and I plan to pass the heck out."

"Tomorrow then."

"Sounds like a plan. And I'll even let you walk me to my bike now."

"You'll let me?"

"I shall let you. I knew you secretly wanted to and because I'm such a caring individual, I am permitting it. You're welcome."

"Great, there's two of them," Bob said.

Ottilie rolled her eyes, side hugging Phoenix goodbye. She raised her fist to Bob and he bumped it.

"Glad you two are okay."

Jake led the way out. She stopped, not following him, staring at him. He realized she wasn't following and turned.

She cleared her throat passive aggressively, the best form of aggressive in existence.

"What?"

"Figure it out hotshot."

He rolled his eyes. "Bob, Phoenix, glad you're not dead. Maybe next time don't let the birds hit you."

Ottilie twisted back to look at them. "I'll work on it."

Phoenix snorted. "Good luck."

She left with Hangman, walking at his side. "So, how many times have you pulled off that musical number?"

"Only once. Your dad told me that one and I didn't believe it had any chance."

It had a great big fucking chance. She popped out because of that song.

"Finally starting to listen to my dad?" She questioned.

He took playful offense. "I always listen to him. Rooster, on the other hand, is adamant about doing his own thing."

"Ah, I see, you're the perfect little listener, aren't you?"

"Perfect is how I've been described, yes."

She smiled, his cocky confidence funny to her. After growing up in the crowd she had, she had learned to not take cocky people too seriously. A light hearted approach to any situation had always produced the best results.

"And how would you describe your singing, Hangman? Because uh, I'd describe it pitchy."

"I'm not a singer, my mouth is better at other things." His eyes flickered down. Slow. Calculated. Leisurely rising back to her eyes. "A lot better."

She laughed, the sound deep from her chest. "Careful there hotshot, you said a drink and that's not till tomorrow."

Like a man that wanted something from her, he held the door open for her, letting her pass into the hot California air.

"I consider this a pregame warm up."

"Am I a sport?"

"If you were, we'd already be at it."

"Bold of you to assume I want to play."

"It's not an assumption when you were the one that suggested the drink," he smirked at her, knowing he had put her into a box.

He walked her to her bike and she swung her leg over it, earning a low whistle. She knew that would be the reaction and failed to keep the grin off her face.

"Keep it in your pants, Seresin."

"That's where I'm tryna get you, Mitchell."

"I hope my Dad doesn't hear you talking like that. He said he was gonna have a chat with you."

"As far as I'm concerned, nothing's happened yet, and there's no need to have a chat."

"But we're gonna have one anyway." Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell appeared, sunglasses on, a smile on his face as he pat Hangman's shoulder. Regret washed over the younger man's face and her smile grew. "Drive safe sweety. There's food in the fridge for you."

"Thanks Dad, I'll see you later!" Her engine started and revved. She winked to Hangman and sped off, leaving the two men to their chat.

Did she feel bad? No. As if a chat from her dad was going to put down Jake Seresin. If anything, and she was more partial to this line of thought, it would only encourage him more.

~

Iceman passed. She knew the throat cancer had come back, but she hadn't accepted the possibility that it would win. She worked during his funeral, only allowed to visit it during her off time.

She took a raincheck on that drink.

She had a quiet dinner with her dad where he told her he had been grounded.

She set down her fork, bite untaken. "What're you gonna do?" She asked, not wanting to know.

"Something. . .In character."

"Damnit dad. Don't get fired, dishonorably discharged, or thrown in jail. I'm setting the bar so low right now."

"I figured that out when you set your sights on Hangman."

"No, we're not having this conversation, you're the one that's making bad life choices. Just. . .be safe."

"I will," she gave him a look. "I always give a solid effort in trying." She give him that same look x 10. ". . .I will need a little preflight check help from you."

She hung her head.

"Hey, you owe me. I got you out of trouble with Cyclone."

"I literally did nothing wrong! He's the high ranking numbnuts that doesn't know how to change a lightbulb!"

"You pulled a wooden chair across his wooden floor while he was on the phone with a Vice Admiral!'

She started laughing, unable to keep up the disappointed façade. "That is so not my fault!"

"And then you pulled a second wooden chair," her dad was beginning to laugh too, "across the floor! And you bowed on your way out?"

Her head tipped back, hands clapping together. "I was just trying to show appropriate respect!"

"You bowed!"

"Respectfully!"

~

She climbed the ladder and looked into the cockpit. Her dad faced her, helmet on, geared up.

"You're all good. Don't know how long that'll last with your flying."

"You got a problem with my flying?"

"Only when you don't tank the jet enough, otherwise I gotta put in solid effort in repairing it. So if you do do something stupid, I only ask that you blow the jet up afterwards so I don't have to pull an all nighter."

"Seems like a reasonable enough request."

She pat the side of his helmet. "Fly like hell dad. Show Cyclone who the man is."

"Sometimes I question the way I raised you."

She climbed down the ladder and folded it up. She waved at him and the canopy began to lower. He pulled away, travelling along the taxiway with her eyes on him. She moved over to the farthest edge of the runway as he turned in. He finished up his preflight check at the end of the runway.

She grinned as he sped forward, and when he passed, she got a powerful breeze so loud she understood the purpose of safety headphones. He ascended and she looked to her left, then her right. She ran in the opposite direction to put distance between herself and the scene of the crime.

Her dumbass self ran straight past the hangar that her dad normally taught in. He wasn't there anymore. Can you guess who was there? Yeah. It was him.

"MITCHELL."

She froze, face scrunched in a desperate hope to have heard wrong. She kept still just in case Admiral Cyclone was like a t-rex and couldn't see people unless they moved.

He was not.

"Did you help your dad take off?"

"What dad?"

Oh, she was really stupid.

An extremely agitated sigh. "Did you help Pete Mitchell take off?"

"No sir, that would be insubordination and I'm a big supporter of subordination."

Was that even a word?

"Speaking of subordination, I've got to go get this lightbulb to another Admiral's office. Yeah, he can't see right now so he really needs me. Good talking to you, have a great day sir."

She ran again.

~

"You said," he started laughing already. "You said that you're a big supporter of subordination? And-" he almost couldn't finish. "And that, there's another Admiral, that needs a lightbulb?"

"And then I ran," Ottilie finished. "And this was after he asked me if I helped my dad, and I'm like 'what dad?'"

Her dad laughed loudly.

"How have we made it this far in life?"

"Charm," he answered. "It's all charm."

"So uh, you're headed out in the morning?"

He nodded. "And I know we normally spend the night together before, but I was hoping an exception could be made. . .I was going to see Penny."

Penny, his oldest friend.

"Oh were you now?"

"Don't give me that look Tilie."

"I am giving you no look."

"You're so full of it."

"No it's fine. You go hang with Penny. I'll call Jenny and see if I can get through two beers without falling asleep."

"How are you my kid?"

"Biologically I think?"

He rolled his eyes and pushed on her head, messing up her hair. She laughed, moving away, and swiping her keys from the countertop. He followed after with his own keys.

"Stupid questions get stupid answers dad."

He closed the door behind him and she got on her bike. It was a quick drive to the bar because speed limits were really just speed suggestions at this point. He was no better so he couldn't yell at her.

When they arrived, it was packed.

Her dad, wearing his whites, went off right away. She found the person she was looking for and made her way over. She hadn't called Jenny, she had no intention of spending a large amount of time here tonight.

He spotted her before she arrived and straightened up, a smirk settling in naturally.

"You, ma'am, know how to piss off an Admiral."

"Thank you it's genetic. Can we talk outside?"

"Since you asked so nicely."

She led the way, the cool air and dark skies a perfect environment. It was oddly quiet with the bar right behind them. She preferred this. The fairy lights that strung up on the wooden beams above them, creating a scene almost entirely separate from the one inside.

She leaned against the railing, her back to the sea, her eyes to the man.

"I have to ask a favor."

His brow rose.

"First you make me figure out your name, then you ask for a raincheck on that drink, and now, before we've even had our first date, you're asking for a favor? Interesting tactic Mitchell."

"You're consistent, and reliably, a great pilot. Tomorrow, whatever happens during that mission, please keep my dad safe."

The spark in his personality slipped, a more serious demeanor creeping in.

"My dad never stopped blaming himself for Goose's death. Goose, he was," she struggled for the term. It wasn't a lack of knowledge on the proper technical terms, it was a lack of knowing how to justify everything Goose was to her dad.

"I know," he whispered, nodding his head.

"And you, all of you, he cares about you. He won't even think if it comes down to saving you or saving himself. I know it's a lot of me to ask –"

He cut her off, already shaking his head. "No. It's not. I will do everything in my power to make sure he comes home to you, Ottilie. I promise."

She wasn't expecting it to affect her like it did. She was expecting sarcastic but playful banter throughout the entire ordeal, and instead she got this. Emotions. A pang in her chest.

She pushed off the railing and moved forward, pulling him into a hug. He didn't hug her back right away, and she wondered how unused to hugs he was. He was rigid, tense, uncomfortable. Shocked still.

It took him a while until he put his arms around her.

Then it was warm and comforting. He radiated heat and safety.

"Do you really think I'm a good pilot?"

Ottilie moved her head, chin resting against his chest, looking up at him. "I said great. I've been around a lot of good pilots. You, are great."

"My dad never thought so."

She kept silent as he broke gazes, staring out to the water. There was a time to speak and a time to listen. This was the latter.

"He never came to see me fly, but he knew I wasn't anything special. Made a point of reminding me. He said that I could always be more decorated. He said that as long as I was doing things other people could do, I wasn't good."

Her response was without hesitation.

"The only remarkable thing that your dad ever did was make you. Anything he's ever told you was out of jealously because you're more a man than he could ever be."

He looked down at her. Her words may have been the most honest thing she had ever said and there was no misinterpreting it.

"I mean, how many men can pull off such high quality singing in a full bar just to get 1 girl?"

He started to smile. "I haven't gotten her yet."

She rolled her eyes, voice quieting. He really did have nice eyes. When he was like this, there wasn't anything more captivating. "You always had her." Ottilie rose, standing on her tiptoes, and he bent down, kissing her.

It was simple, nothing to horrify little children. A light kiss before she lowered until she was flat foot again, smiling up at him.

"So you can sing, but can you dance?"

"If I were to have a decent partner, I'm sure I could pull a few moves out."

They each unwrapped one arm to hold hands. Their bodies stayed together and they started to sway on the back patio, wood silent beneath them, the indoor crowd and music their only beat.

As far as nights went, it wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

~

She watched them leave and she prayed they returned.

She got to work, always waiting for a phone call. Always waiting for someone to come up to her and give her bad news. Her work didn't distract her today. Every action she did was overthought. It took several tries to get her attention.

The sun came overhead. She knew something had to have happened by now and if she wasn't getting a call, that had to be a good sign, right? Or was it taking longer than expected. Had something happened and they couldn't step away to contact her?

No. She wouldn't be on the priority list for contacting. The priority would be sending more people to attempt to finish the impossible mission.

She couldn't eat her lunch. She actually got time for a lunch break and she sat on the ground, looking to the skies.

Surely the skies wouldn't be so clear if something had happened.

Wishful thinking.

"Hey hey hey!" It wasn't a fun series of 'hey'. It was urgent. Intrigued. Ecstatic. She was shoved and she would have bit the head off her work friend if they hadn't been pointing to the skies.

Her eyes lit up, her anxiety washed away like a bucked had been poured over her. She stood, almost falling from her numb legs, eyes on that first jet that was making its way down.

"Who is it?" She asked. "Can anyone see?"

"Binoculars!" Avery called, grabbing them from someone not paying attention. He put them to his eyes, finding the landing jet. "Uh. . .It's. . .Phoenix and Bob."

"There's more!" She gasped, jumping on him, pointing to the skies. They were too far away to even attempt at seeing but when they started their descent, Phoenix steering off the runway and to homebase, the next jet came in sight.

And she waited for her dad's callsign to be read.

The jet landed.

The next came into sight.

The next.

The next.

It wasn't coming.

It didn't come.

Neither did Roosters.

Her hands were shaking. She was going to cry.

"There's an unmarked jet. A friendly but unmarked," Avery said, lowering the binoculars with that final landed plane. "They brought someone else back?"

She took off running.

Several were already out of their jets. They grouped together and there was no sorrow filled silence. There was laughing. Ease. Happiness.

The final canopy opened and two men stood. One spotted her right away, and there was no mistaking him. The hair, the sunglasses, the helmet.

"Is that my kid?!" He called to her, not even a sixth of the way as serious as she was. He was relaxed and lighthearted whereas she was hysteric.

"YOU COULDN'T HAVE CALLED?"

"My phone got left behind in the uh. . .it got left behind and I can't go back for it."

He slid down the ladder and was just turning around as she arrived, slamming into him with an unrelenting hug. He chuckled, stumbling back, and held her.

"Hey there, I'm fine. Practically unscratched."

"I was worried."

"I don't see why. Hangman said something about you making him promise to stop me from doing anything stupid?"

"Did it work?"

"No. . .but he did save my life after I did the thing. Smart thinking kid, you always have had my back."

"Someone's got to. It's not like you're going to use that brain of yours."

She pulled away, rolling her eyes at him. "You give me grey hairs, you know that, right? I'm greying because of you."

"Who is the adult here?"

"I question that myself."

She pulled away and gave him a once over. She shook her head. "You stress me out."

"He stresses all of us out," Rooster said from above. "You should've seen his flying today. Just wait until you hear – "

"We don't need to talk about that bud. Yeah, let's just, past stays in the past, okay? No need to bring it up now. Hey look, it's Admiral Cyclone. I'm gonna go help him, he says his light broke again?"

Her dad jogged off after the weakest lie to ever exist.

She turned on her heel, sights finding her next target. Her target already had a lock on her.

He was tall. His shoulders back. His smirk on full display. Olive drab green had never looked so good on anyone.

He held his hands out in a 'who's the man' gesture.

She started to walk to him. "Did I ever incentivize asking for help?"

"No, I don't think you did."

"Then allow me to make amends." He leaned down as she arrived, and she whispered several things into his ear. His smirk only grew, staying in place when he righted.

"How's that sound, sir?"

Tonight was going to be great if his look was any indication.

~

He slammed her against a wall. Their mouths attacked each other, vicious and hungry and desperate. Her hands were in his hair, pulling, disheveling. His hands were on her hips, fingers digging into her ass. It was the type of pressure that left sparks and bruises and made her want more.

One hand travelled down to his neck to bring him closer. His tongue was further in her mouth, and his hips pushed more against hers. She ground down, hips moving without thought but accomplishing all her desires nonetheless. He moaned into her mouth and the vibrations went all the way down.

She pulled at his hair again, loving the soft feel of it.

Breathing through her nose didn't suffice her needs and she broke the kiss, gasping for air. He kept close to her, but he started moving quicker than she did, lips on her jaw. Kissing, nipping. Lips on her neck. Nipping harder. Sucking the skin into his mouth with the intent of leaving marks.

She ground her hips, finding a rhythm even when she was pressed firmly against the wall.

The hand on his neck moved to scratch at his back. Her nails scraped. She felt the taut muscle beneath. Her neck scrunched when he sucked on a particularly ticklish spot, a smile brought forth, her stomach tightening.

"I'm ticklish there," she whispered, his head pulling back, eyes glistening with intrigue.

"Where," he asked, lips ghosting across her neck. "Not. . .not here, right?" He bit right where she was ticklish and she scrunched up again, almost like she was trying to trap his head where it was.

"Jake," she warned, only managing to be semi threatening.

He hummed, going to the front of her neck, forcing her to look up. She let out a weak, breathless chuckle, the act leaving tingles all across her system.

Her legs tightened around his waist. The hand not in his hair finally found the hem of his shirt and she pulled it from his belt fastened pants. She found skin. Warm, smooth skin that was finely shaped with hours of physical labor.

It was a light trail upwards that had him shuttering. She had to remove her hand from his hair to pull the shirt off, and that meant he had to remove his hands from her hips. She stayed where she was because his hips kept her in place, but his upper body leaned away, helping the process of removing his shirt.

She threw it to the side, chest continuing to rise and fall with heavy breaths.

Ottilie cursed, nails finding his back, mouth finding his shoulders. She returned the treatment she had just received, teeth dragging across his skin and biting hard. Harder than he had done.

She could feel his chuckle against her, his hands on her waist, under her ass, pushing up. Slipping under her shirt. Finding the clasp of her bra.

She bit again when her bra relaxed.

"You'll have to take my shirt off first," she informed, featherlight kisses tracing along his rounded shoulders.

"I think I can work around it."

"Didn't know thinking was part of the job description."

"It's not, I just like to go above and beyond."

He had to detach his upper body from hers to cup her. She kept her mouth on him, but instead of pressing her against the wall, he kneaded her chest.

"You gonna take me against the wall Lieutenant, or do you own a bed?"

"You tempt me with the wall."

"I'll tempt you with more in a bed."

Her back left the wall, and she smiled against him. Her nails scratched up and down his back, lips pressing kisses to his neck without leaving any bruises.

One hand left her ass to push open a door. A foot kicked it close. The room was dark and her visual field lessened even more than in the already dark house. They turned until she was facing his wall. He found the bed despite facing away and sat down, slow and steady, never wavering. He didn't lay down, meaning she continued to sit in his lap, legs around his bare torso.

It prohibited her from grinding down on him, legs without the necessary base in order to cause satisfactory movement.

Jake seemed to realize this to as he was laying back now. She found his mouth and slipped her tongue inside this time instead of the other way around. She set the pace as his head pressed against the blanket covered mattress, and it was a matter of a second for her world to flip.

She was on top, her chest against his, her hips rolling into his, and then she was in the mattress. His hips pressed into hers. His chest flattening hers. His hands on her wrists and bringing them above her head.

Her pupils dilated. Her core throbbed. Her legs tightened. She looked at him with eyes wider than they were seconds prior.

"That was hot." The action had her breathless, heart thundering.

The statement only fed his ego and he kissed her again. His rougher jaw scratched against hers. His hips dug into hers and she wanted nothing more than for his pants and her own to be gone. The way his hips were moving had her mind spinning.

She tried to break the grip around her wrists. She tried to entice him by wiggling her hips. She arched her back, pushing her chest against his.

He finally pulled back, breathing ragged when he looked at her.

"Please," she whispered, hips squirming.

"You don't look that needy," he informed, kissing under her jaw.

"Stick your fingers down my shorts and you'll see otherwise."

She got a smirk.

He kissed her neck. His hands slid down her arms as he slid down her body. The collar of her shirt was high and he finally found it annoying enough to remove it. She helped get it the rest of the way off, and then her bra was flung away to. He kissed down her sternum, biting the side of her chest. His hands followed her curves until they found her jean shorts. He was kissing her stomach when the button mysteriously popped, the zipper falling down.

His green eyes locked with hers and her shorts were pulled off, legs bending to help him. He was kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed and when she was deprived of all clothing, his hands traced up her thighs. Guiding them to his shoulders.

His mouth found a very sensitive part of her and it was quiet.

Peace.

The most at ease she had been in months.

She didn't dare take in a full breath because that might affect the angle, and if the angle changed. . .she didn't want the angle to change.

Her head was light, her hairs raised, her back in a constant arch.

Her thigh muscles would tighten but she restrained herself, ordering them to not move.

His hands dug into her hips and she wished they were everywhere all at once. She liked where they were now, but if they could be on her chest, her waist, pulling her hair?

Ottilie whined his name.

She whined.

He sucked harder and her eyes shut tighter. She clenched, breathless, the feeling slowly growing inside of her and leaving her antsy.

She wanted more but it was steadily building now. She wanted the pleasure but she loved the cool that was there now.

She wanted to roll her hips but couldn't. She wanted to lower her stomach as her back was arched off the bed, but she couldn’t. She wanted to grab something sturdy but her fingers reached neither the head of the bed, nor the foot.

Ottilie was trapped, barely restraining herself from squirming.

Then his fingers were inside of her and her breath hitched.

Leisurely. Unbothered. Twisting.

The feeling inside of her was building and she couldn't move. She wanted to reach down and pull hair but any movement was bad movement.

She clenched, her forehead knitting. You'd think she was in pain and she would have preferred pain to this lengthy build up. The waiting. The keeping still. The half breaths. . .

"Jake," she shuttered out.

It built.

She whined his name again. She was on the edge, seconds from tipping over. The patience and discipline necessary to keep still was maddening. Her muscles locked up, her breath stayed half in her chest, and when it finally came, she allowed herself movement.

Her back arching higher, not high enough because his hands were still on her hips, keeping her in place. Her head dug into the mattress, arms stretching out, reaching for a hold that wasn’t there. Her nails came to dig into her palms, a more violent act for such a pleasant state.

He detached from her, and hazy eyes locked with his.

His fingers raised, slick. Her stomach flattened even more when he put those fingers in his mouth.

She surged up, he met her halfway. Another clash of mouths and tongues. His lips were wet and she was pulling at his hair again. She brought him over the bed, leading him, his knees in the mattress. Her hands left his hair to go down to his belt. She pulled it off, throwing it to the side for it to lay useless on the floor. His pants were undone next but she could only shove them down so far.

She broke the kiss to give him a look. “Are you going to help me?”

“Don’t know how to pull a guy’s pants down sweetheart?”

“Somehow I understand the difficult concept but my arms aren’t that long. So either you move and I can do it or we do this with your pants on.”

He grinned, head dipping down, lips right by her ears. At the tickle of his breath, a shiver ran along her arms and down her spine.

“Move me.”

It was her inability to turn down an impossible challenge that had her attempting. She pushed with her hips to try and twist him. She attempted to break his stability with his arms, pushing against his biceps to see if his upper base of support would widen and he’d collapse. She latched onto him and tried to kick up with her feet from the bed, but that worked laughably poorly.

She collapsed back down to the bed with a huff, infuriated by his smirk.

“Oh fuck you.”

“You’re certainly giving it your best effort.”

She fake laughed, scooting down and slipping her hand down his pants to grab him. His breath sucked in, body tightening “Ha ha ha. I’m Jake Seresin, I’m a cocky little shit.” She looked up at him, finding his head hung in painful pleasure. “You gonna move now?”

“Yes ma’am.”

They moved. He laid down on the bed, finally acting normal and taking up lengthwise instead of width. She kneeled to the side of him and moved his pants down, throwing them to the side and huffing with such a taxing physical exertion. She moved her hair out of her face, rolling her eyes.

“Pilots. Always so difficult.”

“Are we now?” he asked, eyes lit up, hands behind his head in such a relaxed position. She scooted up and grabbed him again. She wrapped her mouth around the tip, tongue swirling. “Did I ever tell you what your pops told me when we had that lovely chat?”

She made a ‘no’ sound in the back of her throat. More saliva coated him and she progressed further, breathing in through her nose, hand squeezing his base.

“First, he told me that when he mentioned that story about singing ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling’ he didn’t do it with the intent for anyone to use it on his daughter.”

She knew as much. Her mouth was too far down for her hand to stay on him so she grabbed his balls, grip gently, rolling them, squeezing them.

His change in breath was noted and she smiled around him, eyes watering as she pulled almost all the way back, and shot down. Her tongue pressed against him, her lips tightened and laxed, her teeth gave a gentle scrape.

“Then he told me I wasn’t allowed to do anything I didn’t obtain strict verbal approval of. If you did not give me permission to look at you, I wasn’t allowed to look at you.”

She looked at him now. Her ass in the air, his dick in her mouth, her hands on his balls. She rolled her eyes.

“I technically didn’t break his order, you always made the first move.”

She popped off him, rubbing him up and down with her hand again. Her lips were wet, saliva falling from them, and she grinned at him. “Aren’t you such a good boy. I’m sure this is exactly what my dad had in mind.”

“It’s not my fault you want me. It’s hard to turn off everything that is me.”

“And yet, you can’t charm my dad into liking you?”

“It’s a work in process.”

She rolled her eyes again and deepthroated him in a single go. Hands found her hair and multitasked; keeping it out of her face, gently pulling to give just enough stimulation, and then guiding. Down and up. Faster or Slower.

She sucked and applied pressure and twisted.

When she could her eyes opened, watching him. The fluffed up hair. The veins along his forearms. The short breaths. When all of him was in her mouth her eyes shut in concentration and imagination, a throb between her legs.

His grip in her hair tightened and she could feel him in her mouth as well. His hips stuttered up and she kept the same rhythm going as he burst.

There was no trace of it afterwards and she popped off with a grin.

Ottilie made her way up, but she didn’t do it without contact. Her tongue was out, tracing his hip bone, following the exterior of his abs, swiping all the way up his sternum before she settled on the side of his neck. She kissed the spot first, a quick peck, then a sharp nip.

One hand settled on her hip, the other rubbed her clit and she wanted to clench up right then, but her knees were on either side of his hips. She couldn’t and she shuttered as he rubbed, overly sensitive now.

A thought struck him. “Ottilie.”

Her brows were knit, her weight spread out between her legs and the arms that propped her up. She looked at him and noticed his serious face.

“Call your dad, can you spend the night?”

He was ridiculous.

“I think he’s calling me right now, maybe I should head home before he tries to find me.”

“Probably best you leave now,” he agreed, nodding his head. “Any longer and you won’t be able to walk.”

She gave a grin. “That’s a big promise there Lieutenant.”

He looked down, past their parallel bodies. “I think I can manage.”

They flipped again, his hand leaving her, wrapping around her wrists and bringing them up above her head again.

She had thought it was hot before. She didn’t think anything else the second time around and they kissed, his hips against hers and grinding down, her back arching up to maintain as much contact as possible.

His two hand grip on her became one, and she could hardly think when he slid into her.

The kiss broke, her exhale a shutter, her head turning to the side at the feeling. His forehead pressed against her shoulder, and he pulled almost all the way out. She knew it was coming and still found herself unprepared for the slam back in.

Her breath choked out of her. The pace was everything she wanted but too much. The build up was torture, her skin buzzing, her hairs crawling.

He boxed her in. One hand keeping her wrists together. One hand keeping him upright. She watched him and it was maddening.

She propped one leg up on his lower back and the angle drove him deeper. The sounds she made were unintentional and always cut short with that snap back down. The sounds he made were from controlling his breathing.

“My dad definitely didn’t have this in mind,” she struggled out, sweat covering both of them.

“If you can think about your dad right now, then clearly I’m not doing enough.”

She was both excited, and fearful of how this was going to change.

He pulled out, sitting back on his calves, and directing her to flip onto her stomach. He pulled her by the hips, bringing her up, and he fit himself in again. She thought that was the position they were going to stay in but one hand grabbed her hair, pulling her up. The pain was drowned by the excitement and she righted herself, right against him. His hand left her hair, coming to rest against her throat with a soft squeeze. His other hand began to rub her again, and the snap of his hips started them up again.

She thought she had liked the last position. Her hands above her head, his body trapping hers, the depth he reached.

This one was better. The squeeze around her throat leaving her light. The rubbing of his calloused fingers. His front pressed against her back.

Her thighs were shaking, weak from keeping herself up when doing something like this. She needed to rest her hands against something for support, but he had once again insured anything helpful was out of reach.

She could only hold onto him. The wrist leading to the hand around her throat. The forearm with twitching muscles as he rubbed her.

He snapped faster and her face pinched, jaw clenching in unrelenting urge. She grabbed at his hair, the action pushing her ass further back and his teeth found her shoulder, biting her like she had done to him.

It was building again. Tight in her abdomen that had her wanting to roll her hips, help the process along, but any movement right now could break it. She was frustrated unable to do anything, unable to speed it up, because she wanted that feeling so bad and it was minutes away.

She pulled at his hair. His grip on her throat tightened.

He rubbed harder and she clenched.

He cursed, bed rocking as he moved faster again.

Her eyes were shut tight enough to see stars. Her head rested back against him. Her thighs shook, her stomach unbreakably taut.

Her mouth opened in silent cry when it hit, washing through her body and relaxing her muscles, her nerves. He carried her through it, dropping his hold on her throat and gripping her hips tight, bringing her back into him with every thrust.

She couldn’t keep herself up, cursing against the pillows as he rammed into her until he was spilling too, movements finally growing sloppy and weak.

He pulled out, breathing ragged, and he laid down beside her. His hand racked through his messy hair, his other resting against his stomach.

Ottilie stayed with her stomach against the mattress, arms moving up to slip under the cool pillow. She closed her eyes until she was mentally recovered enough to converse, and then she gave him a look.

“You ever have sex in a jet, Lieutenant?”

Understanding dawned very quickly, and his lips pulled into a grin. He found her gaze, locking them. “We could get in a lot of trouble for that, Ottilie.”

She grinned in return. “Only if we’re caught.”

[moldisgoodforyou]

bahamas (iii)

wordcount: 4.5k

warnings: smut ! , lots of drunkenness

_______

“Rafe.” Sophie grinned at him through a mouthful of toothpaste, bumping her hip against his as they stood in front of the mirror of the master bathroom, at 3am after a long night of going out with their crew.

(He’d called first dibs the second they strolled into the entryway of the house, and no one protested except Sophie, who meekly suggested that they draw straws. James had cheerfully clapped her on the shoulder and insisted that they take the master because it was on the opposite end of the house from the other bedrooms, and he didn’t want to have to hear them having sex. She conceded soon after that.)

He stretched his arms out wide, flexing as he did, before looping them around her torso and settling his head on top of hers. Drunk Rafe was always extra cuddly and clingy, and often led to being more touchy than needed - but when she was drunk too, she fully embraced it. “Yeah?”

She spat out her toothpaste, rinsed her mouth, then shifted in his grip to look up at him with eager eyes. “You remember what we didn’t do when we were in Nice?”

He frowned as he pondered the answer, unsure. “Go to that one museum because we didn’t have reservations?”

“Beach sex.” She corrected, giggling when his eyes went wide. “And I was thinking, since you’ve never...and we basically have a private beach…”

“You’re drunk.” He cocked his head at her, still processing the request.

“Yes. But so are you.” Sophie reached up, her hands going to unbutton his shirt. “Come on, we need to shower afterwards anyway. We can be quick.”

“You’re serious?” He asked warily, letting her undress him. “Like, you’re 100 percent sure?”

“Hundred percent.” She replied, smoothing her palms over his chest. “Please?”

He glanced over, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tight feeling in his shorts. “Alright. But you have to keep your voice down, and we’re going back in through the kitchen door so we don’t set off any alarms, and I’m bringing a towel because I don’t want sand up my ass - Sophie, wait!” Rafe called after her as she giggled and slipped out their bedroom door, running out toward the water.

“Better catch up!”

He grabbed a towel and sprinted after her, catching up easily. “What did I just say -”

Sophie cut him off with a kiss, jumping up so he caught her around the waist and he slid his hands under her thighs to support her, momentarily thanking the girls in his head for convincing her to wear the flowy sundress. She locked her legs around his waist. “Shh.”

“You’re trouble.” He mumbled against her lips, glancing around the empty beach before walking out with her closer to the water. “Remember when you said you’d never skinny dip again because we nearly got arrested?”

“This is different.” She argued. “No one’s around. Didn’t you say you know the security guard?”

“Yeah, Sarah and I used to pay him to disable the alarms when we would sneak out in high school.” He grinned, sliding his hands up to grip her ass. “I fucking love you - hold on, are you not wearing underwear?”

She moaned against his mouth, moving to kiss along his jaw, then down his neck. “No.”

“Oh my god.” He set her down before she could suck a mark on his neck. He laid out the towel that was slung around his shoulders, making sure to put it in an area with packed sand, the ground still a little wet. “Lay down for me.”

“You don’t have an ounce of spontaneity in your body.” She laughed, but complied, the hem of her dress falling up her thighs as she leaned back on her elbows to look up at him.

“Shut up.” He countered lamely, surprising her as he knelt down and ducked his head under her dress, pressing kisses up her thighs.

Sophie let her eyes flutter shut, her legs falling wider. “Fuck, Rafe, I just wanted -”

“You’ll get it. Be patient.” He chastised, sliding two fingers across her dripping core. “Jesus, Soph, this really turns you on?”

“Yeah - oh.” She breathed out as he started rubbing steady circles across her clit. “It doesn’t for you?”

“I never said that.” He started making quick work with her under his tongue, knowing exactly how to make her moan.

She gripped helplessly at the sand, dropping her head back onto the towel. “Fuck, okay. Can you - we should prob’ly be quick -”

“Be quiet, Sophie.” He commanded, not giving her a second to respond before diving back in, his nose nudging against her clit.

She yelped, caught off guard, and immediately slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry - fuck, don’t stop -”

He spread her legs further apart and kept up his motions, not stopping even as she tugged on his hair, making him groan against her. He added in one finger, then two, pleased by the little whimpers she made, knowing she was close. “C’mon, baby, wanna hear you when you come.”

Sophie shook her head but gasped as he stroked just the right spot in her, forgetting to keep her hand locked over her mouth. “Please, Rafe, there - please -” she tensed just as he pushed her past her peak, not realizing she’d basically kneed him in the head in the process.

He worked her through it anyways, pinning her legs down with his forearms. Once she dropped her head back to the towel, satisfied, he grinned up at her. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t stay quiet.”

“Nope. I swear, you have a nose meant for eating me out.” She exhaled, smiling dopily up at him.

He laughed, going to tug off his shorts. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s, like, sloped perfectly. I dunno.” She pulled the dress back down, sitting up on her knees. “How do you want me?”

“You didn’t bring a condom out, right?”

“I have the IUD now -”

“Still.” He regarded her carefully, a slow smile creeping onto his face as she reached up to unbutton his shorts. “Sophie.”

“Yes.���

“Your knees are gonna be bruised.”

“Oh well.” She palmed him over his shorts, satisfied when he hissed in response.

“Everyone’s gonna know.”

“Pretty sure they already know I’m sucking you off regularly.” She replied, tugging his shorts down. “It’s not really a secret.”

“We could at least take it inside…” He trailed off as she slid her hand down his cock, stroking her thumb over the head of it. “Shit.”

“I don’t think you’ll last that long, baby.” She teased, licking her palm then worked her hand up and down his cock in slow, long strokes.

He opened his mouth to reply just as she took him into her mouth, and promptly shut his instead. Clearly she wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

If there was one thing Sophie had learned in their relationship, it was that the only time Rafe ever shut up was when she had his cock in her mouth. (She wished she’d known that sooner. They could have solved a lot of arguments that way.)

She kept up a slow pace as she bobbed her head up and down on him, making Rafe begin to grow impatient.

He carefully tugged on her hair, making her glance up, and raised his eyebrows.

“Yes?” She pulled off him, raising hers back as she licked her lips. “Something to say?”

“You’re teasing.”

“I literally had you in my mouth, Rafe, that’s not teasing.” She insisted, digging her nails a little into the back of his thighs. “Now, if you’ll just -”

The tide came in right at that moment, soaking the entire bottom half of her dress and his shorts pooled around his ankles. They both yelped in surprise, Sophie jumped up, and Rafe tried to pull his shorts up as quickly as possible. “Shit!”

Sophie couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her, clapping her hand over her mouth. “I can’t - we have to go back in.”

He shook his head, extremely uncomfortable in his sopping wet shorts that he barely managed to zip up over his now-painful boner, but grinned anyways. “This was your idea.”

“My dress is soaked.” She complained, wringing out the fabric. “You should have checked the tide -”

“Are you seriously - Sophie, you suggested this -”

“You should have told me no!” She argued, loving pushing his buttons as far as she could, and got up in his face, inches apart from him.

“Like you would have listened.” He stepped back right away, placing his hands on her shoulders and keeping his arms outstretched to keep her at a distance. “I know exactly what you’re doing.”

She took a step closer anyways, then squealed as he immediately grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. “Rafe!”

“Sophie!” He mimicked, tugging her dress down so it covered her ass and strode back up to the house, towel forgotten. “Fucking tease. You know, I thought the arguing might stop when we were dating.”

“You love arguing with me.” She retorted. “It turns you on.”

“Damn right it does.” He replied, palming her ass. “You’re so fucking sexy. I need to tell you that more.”

“Rafe.” She whined, squirming in his grip. “Quit.”

He only set her down just before the front door of their bedroom, glancing around. “If I ask nicely, will you help me out in the shower?”

She perked up, eager. “Will you beg for it?”

“Do you really want me to?”

“I always want you to.”

Rafe shook his head, grinning, and swatted her butt. “Get your ass in the shower, pretty girl.”

Twenty minutes later, with both of them finally warm again from the shower (among other activities) and completely clean, Sophie had a fresh bruise on her hip from slipping in the shower and Rafe not being quick enough to grab her before she hit the faucet. They slipped into bed just after four in the morning, both exhausted, and Rafe fumbled for his phone to set an alarm before they fell asleep.

“Put your phone away. Go to sleep.” Sophie mumbled, her head on his chest and fingers curled around his bicep.

“Uh.”

“What.”

“Seems the bathroom has good acoustics.”

“Oh, fuck.” She groaned, grabbing at his phone. He had three texts - two from James, saying shut the fuck up and I hate you both so much, and one from Colin, saying I literally never want to hear Sophie moaning ever again.

“That’s it. We’re getting back on the plane the second the sun rises. I never want to see the boys ever again in my life.”

He pulled his phone out of her grip and set it aside on the nightstand, kissing her on the forehead and hugged her back to his chest. “I’ve had the misfortune of hearing both of them in bed, we’re fine. They should be sleeping anyway. It’s not our fault.”

“If they say one single word tomorrow -”

“I won’t let them give you shit, I promise.” Rafe smoothed his palm over her hair in an attempt at a soothing gesture. “Though I don’t think I can control your girls if they heard it too.”

She yawned, shutting her eyes again. “Julia’s definitely gonna say something.”

He smirked. “Complimentary, I assume.”

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

_____

The rest of their day ended up as uneventful as they’d like - full of drinking tropical drinks, napping in hammocks in the sun, and a few games of beach volleyball. After one too many pina coladas, James found himself parasailing on the back of some random guy’s boat, with Colin roped along for assistance. Meanwhile, Rafe and the girls went snorkeling, and Julia insisted that a shark had bitten her toe (it was a baby whitebait, but still).

After dinner and a pregame, the group made it back to their now-favorite bar (after only three nights). It only took them a couple hours for everyone to get a buzz. They all took turns in pairs to get drinks upon Rafe’s insistence, making sure everyone was safe. They kept everything on a tab on Rafe’s card and agreed to pay him back at the end of the week - he had to talk them into it, wanting a reason to piss his dad off. (Sophie wasn’t thrilled, figuring Rose would find some way to connect it back to her, but agreed after a few drinks anyways.)

When Sophie returned with Rafe from the bar after their turn, drinks in hand, she stopped abruptly in her tracks at the scene before them. He promptly ran into her, stumbling in an attempt to catch both of them and not spill the drinks. “Hey! Pick up your feet, Soph -”

“What the fuck?” She demanded, staring straight ahead at James and Julia making out on the dance floor. They were in their own little world, arms wrapped around each other.

“Shit.” Rafe mumbled, following her gaze. “Okay, baby, let’s be rational here -”

She ignored him, storming forward, and decided the best course of action was to duck in between the two of them to break them up, making Julia accidentally smack a sound kiss to her lips.

Both the boys gaped for a moment, then regained their senses and exchanged a glance. Rafe cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as a blush rose to his cheeks.

Julia’s eyes snapped open and she pulled back a second too late, confused and definitely not sober. “Soph?”

“What the fuck, you two?” She exclaimed, whirling around to face James, who had both hands up in defense and had taken several steps back.

“I didn’t - we haven’t -” He fumbled for an excuse, sending Rafe a desperate look, but he just shrugged in response.

“Stop kissing each other! Or trying to hook up! God!” Sophie knocked back a big swig of alcohol before glaring at both of them, her eyes a little wild. Rafe had seen that look before - many a time, actually, but more so in high school - and was extremely thankful he wasn’t on the receiving end of it for once. “Why is that so hard to understand?!”

Julia shrugged, having absolutely zero remorse. “He’s here, he’s a good kisser. Just happened.”

“Well stop making it happen.” Sophie frowned, turning back to James. “Last time, you -”

“Hey.” Rafe stepped in abruptly, interrupting what she was about to spill to Julia, about how last time James felt guilty for an entire month after, and how he had asked Rafe if he was a bad person for wanting to just hook up without a relationship, and if he was screwing Julia over. (Julia couldn’t care less, she was just happy to be getting some no strings attached, but James struggled with the whole idea.) “Okay. Let’s not. Where are Colin and Allie?”

James shot Rafe a grateful look and then tipped his head toward the bar. “Allie’s getting hit on by the bartender and Colin is…I don’t know.”

“You lost Colin?” Sophie asked, pulling out her phone to search for him. “When?”

“We didn’t lose him, he was talking to some girl. That’s mine?” Julia asked, taking one of the drinks from Sophie’s hand.

“Yes, but you don’t deserve it.” She grumbled, but let her take it anyway.

“Soph.” Rafe chastised, firm. “Okay. So Colin’s fine, do we need to intervene with this bartender?” He glanced back and was surprised to see normally-quieter Allie leaning across the bar, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she giggled at something the bartender said. He recognized that tactic straightaway - Sophie had done it all the time when they first started to be friendly with each other. For a moment he questioned if that was actually her flirting or something she’s tried at Julia’s coaching - honestly, that was probably it.

Whatever. It still worked.

“Is she flirting? Wait, is this the same guy that was hitting on her last night?”

“Yeah. He’s hot.” Julia commented with a grin, raising her eyebrows at Sophie. “Think she’ll go home with him?”

“No one is going home with anyone.” Rafe shook his head, settling his arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “If they want to do anything, it’ll have to be at my place. We’re not losing track of anyone. Where the fuck is Colin?” He scanned the room along with James, both of them a good head above the crowd.

“Oh! There.” James pointed out, spying Colin talking to a girl at the end of the bar, watching as he kept glancing toward Allie with a frown and barely paid the other girl any attention. “Man. He sucks at flirting.”

“Not his strong suit.” Rafe agreed. He watched with raised eyebrows as Allie balanced an entire tray of double shots back to their booth, cheeks a little flushed and bright-eyed.

“Hi, you’re back! I brought shots, where’s Colin?” She started passing them out to everyone, placing a small bowl with lime wedges in the center of the table.

“Who’s your friend, Al?” Rafe grinned.

“I...I don’t know what you mean.” Allie blushed, pushing Rafe’s shot toward him a little more insistently. “Here. Drink.”

“Allie’s gonna get some,” Julia sang, knocking back the first shot without waiting for the others. “Did you pack condoms? I have extras -”

Colin appeared out of nowhere, squeezing himself into the booth besides James. “Who needs condoms?”

“No one.” Rafe and Allie replied at the same time, Rafe immediately going into protective mode. Allie was blushing furiously by now and shoved a shot toward Colin, grabbing her own and raising it. “To...trying new things.”

James whistled, laughing at Sophie’s cheer before they all took the shot together. After the second one, Julia winced, biting her lip, and Sophie recognized the telltale sign immediately. “Jules, bathroom?”

“Yeah, I - yeah.” She nodded, slipping out of the booth and hurried after Sophie. Tequila never treated her well, but when she was drunk enough she’d drink whatever was put in front of her.

Allie watched them go, gathering the shot glasses back onto the tray with the discarded limes - she scowled as a trail of juice made it down her wrist. “Okay, I’m bringing this back. Are we good to go after this, do we want more drinks…?”

“I’m pretty sure Jules is throwing up, so I think we’re done.” James informed her unhelpfully, leaning into Colin a little too much - Colin just shoved at him to keep him upright.

“Right. Um.” She spoke the next words too quickly, all strung together like she couldn’t get them out fast enough. “Rafewhat’syouraddress?”

“Huh?”

Allie blushed, shrugging. “Address? Where we’re staying?”

“Oh. Oh! Um, it’s...lemme just…” He pulled out his phone and dropped her a pin. “There. Texted it to you.”

“Why do you need the address if we’re all going home?” Colin asked with suspicion, scowling.

“None of your business.” Allie told him curtly, lingering for a moment longer before taking a deep breath and strolling back up to the bar.

The bartender, Carlos, greeted her with a broad smile. He’d made the first move when she got drinks for the group the day before, complimenting her on her shirt and the color, then on how cute she looked when she blushed. “You came back.”

“Yeah. I did.” Emboldened by the alcohol, she held out her hand. “Can I have a napkin and a pen, please?”

He nodded, sliding both across the table and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand before letting go. “Are you leaving without me?”

“If you can get off in the next hour - shit -” She blushed at her word choice. “I mean, um, if you want to come by in the next hour. If the bar’s closing. You can, um, show me more of that tattoo you were telling me about.” She nodded toward his chest and the bit of ink peeking out from beneath his button up shirt, biting the inside of her cheek with instant regret at her poorly delivered pickup line. There was a reason she stuck to dating apps and let Julia and Sophie handle the ghostwriting on her account, preferring to stick to one night stands if anything.

Carlos accepted the napkin she slid back with the address on it, nodding. “I’m off in an hour.” He paused, eyes raking over her for a second. “You said you’re 22?”

“Yes? Is that a problem?” She asked with a little too much of an edge of nerves to her voice, instead of confidence like she’d hoped she could deliver. Channeling Sophie’s argumentative energy and Julia’s flirtatious energy never worked for her.

“No, I’m 25. Just wanted to make sure.” He flashed her a bright grin, one that made her feel a little weak in the knees. “I’ll see you soon, Allie.”

She could barely get out a “see you” before she hurried back to her friends, biting the inside of her cheek so she wasn’t smiling so wide. James grinned at her knowingly, Rafe raised his eyebrows as if to check in that she was okay while Colin seemed distant, distracted. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“The rest of our girls are still -” Rafe started, then cut himself off as Sophie and Julia arrived behind Allie. “Never mind. Let’s roll.” He sent Sophie a quick glance, nodding briefly toward Allie before tugging the boys to fall into step ahead of the crew. It was only a seven minute walk back to the house, placed perfectly in between the nightlife and the beach.

Sophie read his glance right away, nudging her hip against Allie’s and lowering her voice as they all followed the boys out. “So. The bartender?”

“Carlos.” Allie corrected.

“Are you gonna fuck him?” Julia asked a little too loudly, yelping when Sophie punched her arm.

“...I think so.” Allie nodded, only sounding a little unsure of herself.

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to.” Sophie told her, hooking her arm in hers. “But if you do want to, make him go down on you first.”

“Voice down, Soph!” Rafe called out ahead of them, turning to walk backward and send her an amused look.

Sophie just flipped him off, making him roll his eyes and turn back. “What! She should!”

Allie raised her eyebrows, gesturing between the two of them. “I thought you went down on him first.”

Sophie waved her hand, shaking her head. “That’s besides the point. We knew each other, all that. You don’t know this bartender, but if he’s worth anything, he’ll prove it first.”

“She makes a good point for someone who’s had only one random hookup.” Julia interjected with a grin. “I saw him take a tequila shot with one of the old ladies at the bar last night. His tongue is -”

“Oh my god, no, shut up.” Allie interrupted, turning bright red as they followed the boys into the house, Rafe holding the door for all of them. “This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have - no. I don’t do this for a reason.”

Rafe straightened up, crossing his arms with a frown. “You don’t have to do a single thing you don’t want to. I’ll tell him to fuck off if you want.”

Julia reached out and combed her fingers through the ends of Allie’s hair, arranging it perfectly. “Yeah, but don’t hold back if you want to do this. One and done, babe, then you never have to see this dude again.”

“Yeah, we’ll go to another club if you want. You set the rules here, Al.” Rafe promised sincerely, genuinely concerned for the well-being of his friend.

Allie nodded, taking a deep breath and glanced around at everyone gathered in the foyer. “Right. I’m gonna - I should take another shot or something.”

“No.” Colin’s permanent frown hadn’t left his face since they’d all left the bar. “If you’re not gonna do this sober, then you’re sure as hell not gonna do it drunk.”

“One shot wouldn’t make me drunk -”

“No, Allie -”

“Colin.” James cut in sharply. “She can handle herself. C’mon, I want to scout out where to go for dinner tomorrow and I want your help. I don’t think I can type right.”

They all stood there in silence for a moment, tension thick in the air, until Colin grumbled and headed off to their room without a word. James rolled his eyes at his surliness but followed.

Julia grinned at Rafe once they left, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. “So if Allie’s hooking up in my room, does that mean we get a sleepover?”

Rafe’s face dropped and he glanced toward Sophie, who was just holding back a grin. “No. Jules, you can sleep on the couch or something - look, this dude isn’t spending the night, right Allie?”

“Um…no?” She questioned, glancing around at her friend’s faces. “No? No. Uh, I don’t think so.”

“Good choice.” He nodded, glancing out toward the street where they could all hear the sound of a car pulling up outside. “Want us to hang out here?”

“Yeah, just, uh.” Allie waved toward the couches in the living room area. “Go be distant. Shit.” She mumbled as he started walking up the drive. “Jules, where are -”

“Condoms are in the side pocket of my duffel.” Julia supplied helpfully, laughing when Rafe made a face. “What! She needs to be protected -”

“Shut up!” Allie hissed back, straightening a little and offered a slightly nervous smile to Carlos as he strolled up and greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Hi! Um, do you want to...let me show you this way.” She ushered him away, but not before Rafe caught his eye and stared him down.

Julia watched Rafe with a smirk, nudging him once the two had left their earshot. “You are so totally the dad friend. I hope you know that.”

“If that’s setting me up to be a good father, I’ll take it.” He replied quickly, with a little too much sincerity to be taken as a joke.

“Just don’t become a father on this trip.” Julia shot back with a teasing grin.

His eyebrows shot up and he immediately looked toward Sophie, giving himself away.

Julia laughed, punching him in the arm. “Yeah. I heard about her stomach flu incident. You two are so dramatic, immediately assuming she’s pregnant.”

“I told you that in confidence, Julia.” Sophie groaned, her cheeks going red.

“Yeah, as in don’t discuss with the boys, not your boy.”

Rafe couldn’t hide the pleased smile he got at ‘your boy,’ wrapping his arm around Sophie’s shoulders as she rolled her eyes. “Jules, you good hanging out here? I can take the couch if you want.”

“Nah, I’m good. Night Dad.”

“Stop.” Sophie insisted, not amused in the slightest.

“Okay, Mom.” Julia rolled her eyes. “Jeez, I know who’s gonna be the fun parent.” The moment she registered the slightest flinch in Sophie’s facial expressions, Julia softened, reaching out to pat her knee. “Kidding. Sorry.”

“S’alright.” Sophie mumbled, standing. “I’m going to bed. Night, Jules.”

Rafe stood after her, following immediately. “Text if you need anything. Blankets are in that basket over by the fireplace.”

“Thanks. Night.” Julia replied, watching them go. She briefly thought about knocking on James’ door - she’d forgotten he was that good of a kisser - but decided against it. Some friendships just needed to stay intact.

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies

[alidravana]

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

Pairing: Ghost/Roach

Length/Rating: ~2.5K, Mature

Tags: Developing Relationship, Intimacy Issues, Poor Communication, Mildly Dubious Consent, PTSD

Summary:

As Simon and Gary’s relationship starts to heat up, Simon’s memories as a prisoner of war come back to haunt him.

My entry for Day 7 of @agonyapril2022: PTSD and Alt 1: Broken.  This is set well before the previous fic in this series.  Alternating between Ghost’s and Roach’s POVs.  Thanks to the wonderful @sugaredmayhem for editing!

Check it out here on A03 or continue reading below!

*****

Simon let out a moan, unable to keep the sound from coming out of his mouth. As soon as he had entered the room, Gary had him up against the wall, kissing him passionately, Simon eagerly meeting every movement. Gary paused to pull off Simon’s shirt, before pressing his body back up against Simon, continuing to ravish his mouth. Distracted by the love bite that Gary just left on his neck, Simon failed to notice that Gary had already unbuckled his belt, until he slid his hands past the elastic of his boxers.

Simon suppressed a flinch, quickly ducking out of the loose hold that Gary had him in. He let out a chuckle, hoping that it sounded less fake than it felt. “Woah there, love, the door’s still open,” he commented awkwardly, turning around to shut the door quickly, taking the brief moment that he was turned away from his partner to attempt to rein back his panic. Making sure his shoulders were unhunched, his body relaxed, he turned back around to see Gary leaning back on the bed on his elbows, stripped down to his boxers with a cocky grin on his face.

“I thought you were maybe feeling a bit underdressed,” Gary said, watching in delight as Simon took in the sight before him.

Simon wasn’t sure what to say. Gary looked gorgeous lying there, his whole body on show, for him. But Gary was also incredibly vulnerable, and Simon had to resist the urge to put a stop to the whole night, right then and there.

Tugging his own pants down but leaving on his boxers, figuring it was only fair since Gary was also only wearing his underwear even though he wasn’t particularly comfortable revealing this much of his own body, Simon walked slowly over to the bed, impressed at his own ability to keep it together. He looked down at Gary, could see his arousal clearly outlined in his boxers, and slid down to his knees, his hands resting just above Gary’s knees.

Gary stared at him with wide eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Is this okay?” Simon asked, as his fingers trailed along the inside of Gary’s boxers. He gripped the sides, trying to clearly convey his intentions, only pulling them down once he got Gary’s nod of approval.

“Yes, yes…” Gary panted as Simon took his cock into his mouth, licking carefully around the head before taking more of the length into his mouth. It had been…well a very, very long time since he had done this, so Simon didn’t go too far, not wanting to choke. He bobbed his head back and forth, continuing to watch Gary’s reactions, enjoying how the younger man clenched at the blankets in response.

“I thought this was going to go the other way,” Gary muttered, releasing the tight grip he had on the sheets to run his fingers through Simon’s hair. Simon’s gut clenched, but Gary continued to play with his hair gently, scratching along his scalp with a gentle pressure. “This feels fantastic babe, but I think I’m going to cum soon,” Gary said, looking down at Simon.

Simon just nodded, taking Gary’s cock in as deep as he could, waiting for his release. It only took a few more seconds before Gary shouted, pressing slightly deeper into Simon’s throat, Gary’s cum hitting the back of Simon’s throat. Simon coughed slightly, Gary quickly handing over a bottle of water.

“Simon, are you okay?” Gary said, his words dripping with concern.

“Yeah, yeah, just went down the wrong way,” Simon said, taking another swig of water, and then almost spat out the water as he realized what he had said, Gary letting out a small bark of laughter.

Gary reached towards him, pulling Simon down onto the bed and resting his hand on his hip. “Let me return the favour,” he said, starting to pull down Simon’s boxers but Simon shimmied out of his grasp.

“Not tonight, sorry love,” Simon said, shifting to the edge of the bed and bending down to grab his pants. “I have to edit Soap’s mission reports before they get to Sheppard, otherwise we’ll all be running extra laps tomorrow,” he lied, coming up with a plausible excuse, relieved to see Gary nodding along. He leaned over to give Gary another kiss before standing up and heading to the door.

Luckily, no one was in the hall, so Simon was able to practically sprint back to his room, no one the wiser. Once he was in his room, he locked the door behind him, sliding into the small, attached bathroom - one perk of being a Lieutenant. Flipping the tap to hot, Simon stepped into the shower just as the shakes started.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Simon focused on calming his breathing. Gary hadn’t forced him to do anything, everything that happened was his own choice, Simon told himself harshly, in an attempt to stop the oncoming panic attack, but logic wasn’t working. Gary slipped from his mind as the dark memories came flooding in, Simon sliding to the floor with a sob.

xxxxx

Gary woke up with a groan, leading over to turn off the annoying alarm, surprised that Simon hadn’t turned it off already. But then he felt the empty space next to him and remembered that Simon had taken off in the night, after giving Gary the most magnificent blow job. Stretching in the bed, Gary closed his eyes briefly, reminiscing on the view of Simon’s lips wrapped around his cock. What a wonderful memory to start the day, Gary thought to himself as he struggled out of bed to get dressed, knowing they had a full day of training to get through before he could see Simon again.

But Simon was busy with more paperwork that night, then extra training the next night, and then he was too tired the next…Gary was about to scream in frustration. As he walked back towards the barracks, he didn’t notice Soap come up beside him until he spoke.

“Hey mate, are you doing okay?” Soap asked, looking at Gary with a frown.

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” Gary responded, plastering on a fake smile. He couldn’t exactly tell his commanding officer that his other commanding officer was avoiding him after having a mind blowing night of sex after all. Well, what he thought had been a mind blowing night but now he was having second thoughts.

“Okay, well get some extra rest, looks like we’ll have a mission by the end of the week,” Soap replied, clapping a hand on his shoulder before heading off in a different direction.

Great, Gary thought glumly, wondering how Simon would manage to avoid him on mission too.

xxxxx

“Hey, I hear this is where I can find a certain bug?” A female voice said, knocking on the door to the break room before entering.

Gary perked up at the voice, and then leaped up to give the speaker a large hug. “Mandy! What are you doing here?!” He asked with a big grin, leaning in to give her another hug. He blushed when he realized that the rest of the team were staring at them, Ghost included.

“Apparently you all needed some new pilots to help clean up your messes,” Mandy joked, squeezing Gary back just as hard. “It will be just like old times, me saving your ass.” She added with a grin.

“I was the one with the gun -” Gary reminded her, smiling at the familiar argument.

“-And I was the one flying the helicopter while dodging the SAMs,” she argued back, ignoring the rest of the stares being directed towards them in the room.

“Well, are you going to introduce us, Roach?” Ghost asked from the back of the room. Gary watched with a small frown as Ghost leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in obvious annoyance.

“Staff Sergeant Mandy Macfie,” Mandy introduced herself. She nudged Gary’s elbow. “And I’ve known Gary…I mean Roach, still have to get used to that, for what has it been, eight years now?”

Gary thought back to when he first met Mandy, and nodded, eight years seemed about right. “Hey, I’m going to show Mandy around a bit and Ghost, I’ll meet you at the range at eight, okay?” He knew that he was putting Simon on the spot, but he was tired of being ignored. Whatever was going on would have to be dealt with before they flew out at the end of the week.

xxxxx

“This place isn’t too bad, I’ve definitely been stationed at worse locations,” Mandy commented as Gary finished his tour, the two of them heading to Gary’s room.

“Agreed,” Gary replied, grabbing out a beer from his secret stash and handing it across to Mandy.

“Don’t you have a shooting date?” She asked, but accepting the beer nonetheless, clicking Gary’s with a gentle tap.

“Nah, Simon will just find an excuse to continue to ignore me,” Gary responded bitterly, taking a large gulp of his beer.

“Oh, not Ghost, but Simon?” Mandy said, taking a sip of her beer. “As your almost sister-in-law, I need all the details right now,” she added, setting her drink down and leaning forward. “What did the douche in the mask do?”

xxxxx

Fuck, Simon thought to himself as he pulled away from Gary’s door, quickly escaping down the hallway. He didn’t know that Gary thought he had done something wrong the other night, he had assumed that Gary would have blamed his absence on Simon, not on Gary.

He was going to need to make it up to Gary somehow. As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, he thought hard about the lube that rested in the drawer. He could do this…for Gary.

xxxxx

Gary was shocked but elated to get Simon’s text, asking if he could come by his room instead of the shooting range tonight. He may have showered twice, making sure everything was completely clean, just in case this ended up going where he hoped it would be going. He knocked on Simon’s door at five to eight, opening the door when Simon called for him to come in.

He found himself pinned to the wall, similar to what he had done to Simon earlier on in the week, but when Simon whispered in his ear that he wanted Gary to fuck him, it felt like only seconds until Gary was up against Simon’s back, guiding himself into his partner; Simon having prepared himself before Gary got there.

He was tight, so tight. Gary started to pull back, planning to stretch Simon a bit more or maybe try a bit more lube, but Simon let out a small whimper at his movement, reaching back with his hand and stopping Gary’s retreat. “Shh baby, I was just going to grab more lube,” Gary said, leaning over to kiss the back of Simon’s neck.

“No, no, it’s fine, just give me a second,” Simon said, his hand trembling slightly on Gary’s hip. Gary could hear Simon take a few deep breaths, his body relaxing in kind. “Okay, now, please love.” Simon said quietly.

Gary pushed in deeper, now that there was less resistance. As he bottomed out, he let out a large moan; everything felt warm, tight, and simply marvelous. He started out with small movements, and encouraged by Simon’s gasps, continued until he was pounding hard into his boyfriend, the cheap army mattress squeaking under them. “Fuck babe, your ass feels amazing,” Gary whispered, tightening his grip on Simon’s hips. But it was at that moment that Gary realized something was wrong.

Simon was shaking, his back tight, his face smushed into the mattress…was that a sob that Gary just heard? Gary quickly pulled out, gripping Simon’s shoulder to roll him over, but yanked his hand back like he had touched something hot when Simon flinched at his touch. “Simon, what’s wrong? What do you need?” Gary asked quietly, feeling lost. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, no idea what went wrong. He shifted further away from Simon on the bed, worried that he was too close, but Simon quickly grabbed his wrist with an iron grip, not letting him move further.

Simon finally turned to look at Gary and Gary felt his heart fall into a million pieces. Simon’s eyes were red tinged, and full of tears as he continued to sob silently; Gary’s confusion only increased as Simon pulled him closer, tucking his head against his chest. As Simon’s tears started to soak Gary’s chest, Gary could feel a few fall down his cheeks too. “Did I do something….no, no, this isn’t about me,” Gary started to ramble out loud, still completely unsure about what he should be doing. “What do you need babe?”

“You.” Simon whispered, continuing to hold tight to Gary, tucking his head into his chest even more. Gary nodded, tightening his arms around his partner. That he could do.

xxxxx

It was probably an hour or so before Simon calmed down, Gary wondering if he had fallen asleep until he finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” Simon said quietly, pulling away from Gary as he sat up, the blankets pooling in his lap.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Gary said in response, copying Simon’s movement to sitting but still keeping the distance that Simon had put in place. He reached his hand out, but left it sitting in the middle of the bed, left it so that Simon could make the choice if he wanted contact or not.

“Pretty sure I’m the one that’s broken Gary, not you,” Simon said harshly, gripping his hair roughly. “I can’t even be intimate with someone I love because of -” Simon cut himself off, his hand trembling as he wiped stray tears from his eyes.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have noticed that something was wrong earlier,” Gary said, hanging his own head. If he hadn’t been so focused on his own concerns about Simon ignoring him, maybe he would have realized Simon was upset.

“I really want to try,” Simon said softly, glancing over to where Gary had placed his hand. He reached out, as if he was going to take Gary’s hand, but pulled back at the last moment. “But I might never be able to give you what you want.”

“I want you, Simon, however much you’re willing to give me,” Gary said honestly, turning his hand up, finally letting out a smile when Simon interlaced his fingers with his. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to know, so many ground rules that they would have to put in place so hopefully this wouldn't happen again. He never wanted Simon to push himself into a bad situation because he thought it was what Gary wanted or needed. But it wasn’t the time for that now. “Can I stay?”

Simon smiled, opening his arms, and Gary shifted over to tuck in as the little spoon, Simon reaching down to pull the sheets up over both of them. As Gary started to fall asleep, surrounded by the warmth of his boyfriend, he realized that that was the first time Simon had said that he loved him. Holding on to that thought, Gary fell asleep with a soft smile.

Everything would be better in the morning.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Blind Spot

Spencer Reid x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Hair pulling kink! Bucketloads of sexual tension but no actual sex. Gratuitous facts about bird nests. Dorks being oblivious. Lots of fluffy heart-eyed banter. Accusations of intercourse with fictional tree-beasts. 

A/N: I saw a gif that made me want to pull Spencer’s hair. That’s it. I have zero shame. 

For the “friends to lovers” square on my @cmbingo​ card! Proofread by @fangirlxwritesx67​ because she’s the best. 

“You look like you fucked an Ent,” you commented cheerfully, stealing sideways glances at Spencer while you waited for the light to change.  

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” He grimaced, trying to tug another burr out of a snarled curl. 

“Oh my god, you’re just making it worse! I’ll help you when we get back to your place. Leave it, you goober.” 

“Did you just call me a goober?” Spencer asked, trying not to laugh. 

“You’re like the dictionary definition of a goober,” you said fondly. 

“I have three PhDs!”  

“I really wish I’d gotten a video of that tumble, Doctor Goober.” 

Spencer was blushing, grinning down at his lap as he shredded a piece of leaf. It was hard not to stare at him when he smiled like that. 

He’d essentially face-planted into a burr bush earlier, somewhere in the Virginia woods — he’d been so excited about explaining some wonky bit of Star Trek physics theory to you that he just forgot to pay attention to his feet — and he’d floundered out with half a hedge stuck in his hair before picking up exactly where he’d left off. 

In other words, Doctor Spencer Reid was a ridiculous human being. You knew that, objectively. It didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him. 

Either he was pretending not to notice, to spare your feelings, or he was socially oblivious; you tended to believe the former, considering how well you’d seen him read other people, but you appreciated it. There was a chance you’d make it out of this — if you could just get over it already — with your friendship intact. 

You cleared your throat and told him, “You look like the bastard child of Grandmother Willow and the Wizard of Oz scarecrow.” 

“Even if they were real, the anatomical —” 

“You didn’t mention that when I brought up the Ents. Something you want to tell me about you and Treebeard?” 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to sound exasperated, but he could barely keep a straight face for a second before he was laughing, that scratchy sunny childish giggle that only came out when he was really relaxed and carefree. 

“Close the window before a bird sees you and decides to take up residence.” 

“How about you watch the road?”

“What, no facts about bird nests?” 

“Is that a rhetorical question?” 

“Nope.” 

“Well in that case… gyrfalcon nests are frequently re-used and passed along for generations. The oldest one that’s been discovered was in Greenland, and it was actually estimated to be approximately 2,500 years old.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes! In fact…” 

You had to remind yourself, yet again, to stop staring. 

Maybe someday you’d get sick of hearing Spencer talk, but you couldn’t really understand the way most of your teammates reacted to his rambling. Even if you didn’t care about what he was saying, there was something amazing about the way his eyes lit up and his hands fluttered around to illustrate his point.

You parked in front of his building and followed him upstairs. His apartment had become comfortingly familiar — ever since you and Spencer bonded over a shared love of sci-fi, you’d taken to driving him home and, if it wasn’t too late, sticking around for an episode or two of Doctor Who.  

He got his ancient little DVD player up and running, and you settled on the couch, fluffing pillows and shoving aside his nest of colorful crocheted blankets, getting cozy. There was something about Spencer’s space that always felt like home; maybe it was the smell of books, or just the general Spencer-ness of the whole place. 

Just being around him had always kinda felt like home, too. Sometimes you forgot you’d only known him for six months. 

He disappeared into his room for a second and came back with a comb. It was cheap plastic, missing a couple teeth, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. You looked from him to the comb and back again. 

“That actually explains a lot,” you said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of you, leaning back against your shins, and after a dismayed glance at his curls, you commented, “We could always just shave it all off.” 

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he said primly. 

You started with a couple of the less tangled pieces, finger-combing carefully through one soft lock at a time. You half-expected some comment about primates and social grooming, or at least a few facts about the quantum theory behind the TARDIS, but Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the TV. 

You separated out one of the worst knots, and he tilted his head to the side to give you better access. You were being as gentle as possible, but you knew you were hurting him at the first tug — he sucked in a breath, knuckles going white as his fingers clenched on his knees. 

“Sorry, I’m trying,” you sighed. 

With his head tilted like this, you could see the muscle clenching in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. 

“S’okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s not — not your fault.” 

He sat there stiffly as you worked. His hair was silky, where it wasn’t hopelessly knotted, and you were close enough that you could smell whatever clean, sweet shampoo he used. Something about it made you want to hold your breath; it felt like you were too close. Spencer rarely let you inside his little bubble of personal space. 

Maybe that was why he seemed uncomfortable. He was usually so fidgety, tapping out a rhythm or twirling a pen between his long fingers, and it was strange to see him motionless like this. 

You ran your fingers through a de-tangled section, slow and careful, and Spencer shivered, his shoulders trembling for a moment before he went unnaturally still again. 

Spencer blurted out, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

At the same time, you asked, “Are you cold?” 

You paused for a moment, surprised by the reaction, but after hesitating, Spencer just muttered, “Yeah. Cold.” 

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. It was too warm, if anything; Spencer had a patchy flush crawling up his neck and over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. 

“Here you go, goober,” you said, awkwardly cheerful in an attempt to cover your uncertainty as you grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it around his shoulders. 

“Thanks.” He pulled the blanket down onto his lap without looking at you. “But maybe I should just do this myself.” 

“You’re never gonna get this loose on your own, not without scissors,” you warned, plucking at the knot around the last burr in his hair. “I’ll just, um — I’ll try to be more gentle.” 

“Maybe just go for it,” he said. “Get it over with.” His voice had gone all high-pitched and strained, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. If this was how much he disliked physical contact, no wonder he always avoided hugging you. 

You tried to go quickly, figuring that one quick moment of pain was better than another ten minutes of making Spencer uncomfortable. In your nervousness, you ended up tugging the burr out much more abruptly than you’d intended, and Spencer let out this rough, low, choked-off sound. Before you could apologize, he was jerking away from you, curled in on himself with his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried you were going to hit him, and — 

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking. 

— what? 

“Spence?” you said tentatively. “What—”

He was still just curled up on the floor in a ball of gangly limbs, but he half-turned to you, twisting around. He wouldn’t make eye contact, though; he was staring intently at the pillow that was on the couch next to you. It felt weird, looking down at him like this, so you slid down onto the floor, hoping it wouldn’t spook him. He shifted back slightly, but at least he didn’t flinch away. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t — this was a bad idea.” 

The profiler in you couldn’t help but notice a few details. He was blushing, for starters. His lower lip was red where he’d been biting it, and — this was the part that surprised you most — his pupils were huge. 

You knew what Spencer looked like when he was panicking, and this wasn’t it. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh.” 

He looked down at his lap, frowning as he played with the loose thread in the cuff of his sweater. 

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know you don’t feel the same way, I wasn’t trying to — I didn’t realize it would be like that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Wait, what?” 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I don’t feel the same way about what?” 

“I know you’re not attracted to me,” Spencer said, barely audible. 

“You’re… you…what?” 

He looked up, at that, genuinely startled. There was something sweet and vulnerable shining in his eyes, and your heart was racing. You slid a little bit closer, so that your knees were almost touching Spencer’s as you faced each other, cross-legged. 

“I thought you knew.” His hushed, croaky voice broke on the last word. “I thought I was being obvious.” 

You gaped at him for a second before letting out a sharp, hysterical giggle. 

He ducked his head again, hiding behind a curtain of hair, but not before you saw the hurt expression that flashed across his features. 

“No, that’s not—” you blurted out. “Spence. Spencer.” 

“Forget it,” he said sharply, his body going tense like he was about to bolt. “Can we just forget this happened?” 

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pushed a few curls back behind his ear, and then you grabbed, twisting your fingers in his hair to tug him forward. You cut off the startled noise he made with a clumsy, eager kiss. 

The angle was all wrong, both of you leaning forward awkwardly, but it felt like sparks all down your spine.

You pulled away just far enough to get the words out: “I thought I was being obvious.”  

Then Spencer was surging closer on his hands and knees, crowding into your space, until you had a lapful of rumpled doctor pressing you back against the couch. He cupped your jaw with gentle spidery fingers, gaze locked on your mouth, and leaned in slowly like he was still waiting for you to push him away. 

There was nothing awkward about it this time. If the first kiss was sparks, this was fireworks — it was such a goddamn cliche you wanted to kick yourself for thinking it, but it was true. Your head was spinning. Every pillowy press of his lips and soft slide of his tongue seemed to steal the breath from your lungs. 

By the time you broke apart you were panting, but at least you weren’t the only one. Spencer’s chest heaved as he pulled away. He was still staring at your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. Part of you wanted to kiss him again and maybe never stop, but another part of you was paralyzed, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening. 

You just wanted to put the world on pause so that you could memorize everything: the way he licked his lips, the smell of his laundry detergent, the barely-perceptible movement of his pulse — you’d never seen that before because you’d never been this close to him before. You wanted to hold onto it, even the less-than-perfect details — the soundtrack of buzzy Dalek screeching in the background — the way you were folded together on the floor, all too-long legs and bony elbows, which was going to get uncomfortable fast.  

Spencer seemed to feel the same way. He grazed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, then followed the curve of your smile out to your temple and traced the shell of your ear with careful fingertips. When he brushed his curled-up fingers along the ridge of your cheekbone, you turned your head and kissed his knuckles.  

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding it in place, feeling the blood and bones shifting under the skin.  

“You really didn’t know?” you whispered. 

He shook his head shyly and gave you one of those incandescent smiles that always made your heart race. “No idea.” 

“I thought you were just ignoring it to spare my feelings,” you confessed. 

“I thought you were doing that.”  

“I thought you were good at your job!” you laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” 

“I think I have a blind spot, where you’re concerned.” He was blushing again. “But I was so distracted by you that I walked into a bush! How did you not —” 

“I’m the one who stares at you all the time like a creep.” 

“You thought you were being creepy?” he said sheepishly. “As soon as you started touching my hair — oh my god that’s embarrassing.” 

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.” 

You tangled your fingers in his curls, tugging experimentally. His breath hitched. 

Both of you were utterly still for a moment, watching each other, and the tension between you seemed to fill the air like a living thing. You were excruciatingly aware of all the places your bodies were touching.

You considered all the places you could touch. It would be so easy. You could tug him in, kiss him, melt into each other… there were so many possibilities, suddenly, and there was something incredible about that: the electricity, the excitement, the moment of pure potential in the pause between certainty and action. 

Spencer sighed, long and shaky, and you were so close that you could feel the current of exhaled air. 

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured, with a twitch of a smile. “That doesn’t happen to me often.” 

“So you didn’t know…” 

You scritched your fingernails down his scalp, marveling at the way he shivered and swayed closer like he was hypnotized. He curled his hand around the side of your neck, thumb slowly stroking the hinge of your jaw. 

“I knew I liked it,” he confessed. “But — within a certain context? Not out of nowhere like that. I didn’t think it would be... like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Intense.”  

“Yeah?” 

“But I think maybe it’s just you.” His eyes had gone all glassy and heavy-lidded, and you could barely breathe. “Maybe you drive me crazy no matter where you’re touching me.” 

“I can think of a few ways to test that hypothesis.” 

You caught a glimpse of his grin, but then he pressed his forehead to yours and his features went blurry, too close for you to focus.

“Never really thought I’d be into dirty talk, but if you’re going to start quoting the scientific method…” 

“Funny, most of the time you never shut up,” you said, giddy and overwhelmed. 

The tip of his nose brushed yours. There was maybe an inch of space between your mouths, and you wanted to close that gap so badly it felt like a physical ache. 

“I mean, if you want me to start rattling off statistics—” 

“Spencer.” You fisted both hands in his hair, tugging sharply, and he shuddered. “Take a hint.” 

“Blind spot, remember?” he whispered, lips brushing yours as they shaped the words, feather-light and maddening. 

“You know, for a genius—” you started, but he kissed you, hungry and sweet like he was making up for lost time, until you’d completely forgotten what you were going to say. 

.

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There is now a sexy follow-up here! 

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If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! 

[seriouslysnape]

Hii would you maybe write remus x reader where its the night before the full moon and remus is really horny like A LOT and so reader takes care of him and makes him cum multiple times ? (Nothing to kinky , just needy loving fucking?)

WOWOWOWOWOWOWOW. I’M BLUSHING SO HARD AT THIS I AM GOING TO EXPLODE. 

I, uh....NEED YALL TO LEMME KNOW IF I DID OKAY ON THIS BECAUSE I WAS BLUSHING SO HARD THE WHOLE TIME I WASNT EVEN SURE WHAT I WAS SAYING. 

__

With a Vengeance 

Remus Lupin x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 2,818

“You deserve to feel good too, darling.”

__

You could always tell when the full moon was soon to be. Not because of the way the lake’s reflection was a little glassier or how the stars seemed to twinkle a tad brighter. No, the dead giveaway was Remus’ behavior around you. He was a werewolf after all, and his instincts always grew stronger the closer the moon came to hitting its fullest phase. More specifically, Remus’ sex drive was always through the roof in the days before the full moon.

He would start with being very lingering around you, not daring to stray too far or let you out of his sights. He’d get touchy next, his hands constantly on you in some manner. He’d leave kisses on your skin and eventually start whispering dirty things in your ear that would make you rub your thighs together in anticipation. 

You usually kept track of the full moon, so you’d know when to expect him to be absent for a few days or when to be prepared to shower him with love and care. However, this time it had gotten away from you. You had been slammed this week, busy with work, and trying to get your ducks in a row so you’d feel more organized. 

Remus had been all over you today, kissing at your neck and slipping his hand into your pants as often as he could. His affection had carried into the end of the day when the two of you retreated to your Hogwarts quarters. He knew you had work to do, but that didn’t stop him from stroking your skin and kissing you wherever he saw fit. 

You had snapped at him once, telling him that he needed to keep his hands to himself until you were finished.

Remus realized you had forgotten, and he was trying his hardest to be patient and allow you to do what you needed to...but you just looked so beautiful with your focus drawn in on whatever you were doing. He looked over you and how you sat wearing nothing but your bra and a pair of shorts. Remus uncomfortably palmed at his crotch that was well on its way to becoming a full erection as he began pacing around your shared bedroom. While he hated to interrupt you, his situation grew dire and his head was clouded with temptation.

“Hey, love?” He called, stopping his cycled steps.

You didn’t look up from the desk that was stationed on the other side. You only let out a hum to acknowledge that you had indeed heard him. He groaned out a sigh, rubbing at his groin once more.

“Do you think that could wait until tomorrow?” He queried, feeling his arousal heightening with each passing moment.

“I’m afraid not. I need to give these to Albus as soon as possible.” You replied, thinking that Remus was just ready to go to bed. 

A pit of despair and dejection filled his gut. Remus threw his head back in defeat and he let out a harsh, guttural sound. Surprised at such a reaction, you turned in your chair to look at him.

“Remus, what-” You were cut off when you saw the hitch in his boxers. 

You caught a glimpse of the almost full moon outside the window. Your confused look melted into a look of knowingness. You suddenly remembered that the full moon was only a day out, which explained why Remus had been acting the way he had. 

“Oh, that’s right. The full moon is tomorrow,” You announced, grazing over the bulge in his underwear. You threw down your quill onto the desk; “Forget this then.”

Remus brought his head back looking at you with desperation. He did a silent victory cheer that you had given up your work for him.

“Darling, I really...really need to touch you.” He said, his voice at a deep whisper and full of pleading.

You stood slowly from your chair, walking over to your husband who was jittery with eagerness. You pressed your body against his, your fingertips toying with his waistband. 

“Is Moony back with a vengeance?” You asked jokingly, knowing that his increased drive was just a side effect of his upcoming transformation.

“You have no idea.” Remus muttered, never looking away from you.

You giggled, reaching a hand into his boxers and stroking his hard length. He let out a whimper that was enough to almost make you feel sympathetic. He kissed you deeply, moaning into your mouth as you continued to pleasure him with your hand. You knew that wasn’t all he needed. You sank to your knees after a moment or so, Remus’ heart dropping a little.

He was never one to turn down a blowjob from you, but he always felt a little bad. Not that he didn’t ever return the favor, though. You yanked his boxers down with your other hand, hungrily looking over him. He brought his hands to your head, holding it steady. You left a tantalizing kiss, just barely licking his tip. He spoke, more like begged, to you.

“Baby, please don’t tease me. I can’t handle it tonight.” He breathed, his voice in almost a quiver. 

Remus wasn’t kidding. This full moon was extra strong to have him falling apart like this. 

“I won’t tease you. I’ll take care of you, honey.” You promised, finally taking him into your mouth. 

His grip tightened in your hair, a sigh escaping his chest. Your head bobbed as you sucked him off the way you knew he liked: taking him all the way. You swallowed around him, keeping your gag reflex from triggering. He watched as you pulled your head back and pushed himself back into your face.

“You’re so pretty on your knees...always so good for me.” He breathed out. 

You let out a happy noise, moving your head faster to get him to his finish. He loved the way you paid special attention to his tip, sometimes leaving kisses on his thighs and hips. He was always so appreciative during these times that you were always there to satisfy him and did it with joy. He was so lucky to have you, and he never let you forget how thankful he was for you.

He felt his dick twitch in your throat, his hot release spilling into you with his relieved moan, which caused a startled squeal to come from you. You took your mouth off of him, but swallowed dutifully. His skin was flushed and his breathing was heavy, but this was only a warm up. He needed more. 

You got up from your knees, and he kissed you so fast that it was dizzying. He was being rougher now, which only made you want him more. He removed what was left of your clothes, throwing off his own shirt. His hands were glued to you. His lips were hot on your neck as he left kisses and whispered his praises in your ear. You were moaning with every spot he sucked on, your voice coming out as a rasp.

“Remus...get on the bed.” You said, feeling the ache of desire between your legs.

He stopped his kisses, guiding you to your bed that he hadn’t even bothered to make when he left after you that morning. He laid on the mattress, watching as you wasted no time straddling him and leaning down to kiss him. He could feel how slick you were already, he smirked under the kiss.

“You’re already so wet.” He said, reaching and rubbing slow circles onto your clit.

You whimpered out, his fingers working magic on your sensitive sex. He slipped two of his fingers inside of you, his fingers curled and massaged your inner walls, feeling how you were coated with slickness. You had almost forgotten that this was supposed to be about him, but that didn’t stop you from rolling your hips as you began to ride his fingers.

“Remus, I’m supposed to be making you feel good. Oh...” You moaned.

He smiled up at you, even when he was the one desperately wanting you, you still couldn’t resist him. He chuckled.

“You deserve to feel good too, darling.” He said, watching you grow closer to your own release.

But you didn’t want to finish just yet. You stilled his hand, making him withdraw his fingers. He looked you dead in the eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. You always felt so prideful when he did that. Before he could ask why you stopped him, you raised yourself up and sank completely down onto his length. 

You both let out a noise that time, feeling a rush at the new sensation. Your movements were slow at first, making Remus whine. You smiled breathlessly down at him.

“What is it, baby? How bad do you need me?” You said in a teasing way.

He growled, knowing you were messing with him.

“You said you wouldn’t tease me...fuck, don’t be mean.” He said, rotating his hips into you.

You let out a sultry laugh. You didn’t want him to suffer more, so you gave in.

“Okay, Remus. I hear you.” You replied, dropping your act and starting to actually ride him.

You rocked and fucked him harder than you normally would, his groans and erratic noises as a testament to it.

“Oh, yes...” He huffed out, his hands kneading at your breasts and gripping at your waist.

You arch your back and release a high pitched moan, a blend of ecstasy and relief coursing through you. He thrusted his hips upward to go as deep as he possibly could, filling and stretching you as perfectly as he always did. You bounced on his lap and felt the delicious feeling of his dick deep inside of you and hitting your most sensitive spot. 

You were making noises every time you slammed back down onto him. Your lower stomach began to tighten and get hot, throwing your head back and crying out his name. He bucked his hips up into you, pushing your higher and higher into your climax as well as hitting his own. 

“Don’t stop, [Y/N].” He said as more of a warning than a request.

He was praying that you weren’t going to fuck with him further and suddenly stop and put off his release. An amused smirk appeared on your face, opening your eyes and looking down at him.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna let you cum, baby.” You granted, continuing the rocking of your hips.

With a few final pushes, he came inside of you and you came around him. Every neuron in your body was fired up as a satisfied squeak signaled your end. You both stopped moving, the only sounds now being your hard breathings. He leaned up from the pillows on the bed, leaving lazy, breathless kisses on your skin. You had never rocked his world quite like that, his vision being dotted with little black spots. 

He mumbled into your neck as he lifted your limp body off of him, letting you fall on the mattress next to him so you could rest for a minute.

“Come here, my darling.” He cooed, kissing your swollen lips and dancing his fingertips over your slightly sticky skin.

Your arms fell above your head as your body returned to normal, your head in a delightful fog. You looked into his eyes, but didn’t see that usual look of after-sex bliss that he always had. They were still fiery with lust. 

“Fuck me again, Remus.” You purred out abruptly, once you were recovered and sucking a hickey on his neck.

Every fiber in his being was screaming yes, but he lightly protested.

“You’ve done more than enough, sweetheart. I’ll be fine. It’s just a hard full moon this time, I suppose.” He said with a smile, but not even denying that he wanted one more round. 

You looked at him sensually. His eyes told another story. You ran your thumb over the scar across his cheek.

“You sure about that?” You prompted.

Remus’ pupils dilated in thought, running his tongue along the inside of his lower lip as you moved to nibble on his earlobe. You purposefully moaned in his ear, sending him over the edge. He was between your knees, having your legs around his waist in seconds. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you firmly around him. He scanned over your naked body that was sprawled out on the bed.

This was one of his favorite parts. Seeing you laid out underneath him, squirming with expectation. There were so many things that you did (some intentional and some not) that drove him absolutely wild. You way you bit your lower lip whenever you caught him staring at you, only using your imagination to wonder what he was thinking when he looked at you. 

He loved the way you cared for him in all aspects: physically, emotionally, mentally. There wasn’t a square inch of you that he didn’t prize and treasure over. You were his entire world. His reason for breathing. 

He pushed his shaft through your folds, relishing and groaning at the feel of you once more. Your alluring sigh signaled him to start moving, pulling out and back in at a rapid pace. Your inviting sounds were music to his ears.

You pushed your body down to meet each of his thrusts, allowing him to hit just the right spot. You could feel the pent up tension that he had built up with each rough entrance back into you. He held your hands above your head, his other hand pinning your hips to the mattress. 

He pulled out again and one particular slam back into you caused you to moan louder than normal, causing Remus to speed up even more. Your chest bouncing with his every thrust. You were completely focused on the feeling of him dragging in and out of you. He let out a noise that resembled a growl that sent vibrations all through your body. Every cell in your body felt like it might combust with pleasure. 

“You’re such a good girl. Every time you’re so good for me,” He glorified; “Oh, darling, how I adore you...” 

Your legs tightened around him, letting him know you were close.

“I love you.” You breathed out, 

He grinned, an even deeper blush appearing on his face.

“I love you, angel.” 

You involuntarily clenched around him with a pitchy cry, releasing once again and hitting your high. He felt his own spiral, thrusting a time or two more and spilled his release into you again. He groaned in solace, pulling out of you. Your hearts were pounding and your minds were racing. You looked up at him and smiled with joy as the look of euphoria in his eyes. You persuaded him to fall next to you so he didn’t totally collapse.

He pulled you to him, showering you with soft kisses and snuggles. He entwined your legs with his, his hand resting on the outside of your thigh and feeling your muscles contracting violently. He looked at you with hilarity, but also concern at the feel of your trembling legs.

“You’re shaking.” He noted aloud.

There wasn’t a stitch of discomfort or unpleasantness on your face. You beamed up at him, fiddling with one of his hands. 

“I’m perfect. I may not be able to feel my legs tomorrow, but I’m okay.” You said, kissing his jaw.

He laid with you in silence, feeling the air cool your heated skin and allow your heart rates to return to normal. 

“I can’t wait to see you after the full moon passes. I hate being away from you.” He admitted, pushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded. Remus always liked to stay away during the full moon. Even if he took Wolfsbane Potion, he was still weary of how dangerous it could be. If Moony ever hurt you...or worse, he couldn’t live with himself.

“I know. But it won’t be long. You’ll be back soon,” You comforted him; “Tell Moony I said hello.” You joked.

He snickered at that.

“Of course, love.” 

A silence fell over the both of you, just enjoying each other’s presence. He massaged you gently, knowing that he had totally overstimulated you enough for one evening. Although, he still playfully teased you when you went to get up.

“I need to go shower.” You announced, making your way to the bathroom on shaky legs.

“Is there room for one more?” He winked at you.

You both knew there was no way either of you’d make another round. You weren’t exactly young and spry teenagers anymore. You scoffed.

“Only if you keep your hands to yourself.” You giggled.

Remus shot up from the bed, following you into the shower.

“No promises.”

[pandafromcanada420]

Teacher au Sukufushi

CW: teacher x student, age difference, smut, daddy kink, slight degradation kink

Megumi was frustrated. Sexually frustrated to be exact. It had been weeks since his last good fucking, since the last time he thought he was going to pass out because he had cummed too many times. It was absolutely infuriating knowing that he’d gone almost an entire two weeks without a real dick up his ass or down his throat. And the only person to blame was one Ryoumen Sukuna.

The homeroom teacher had basically taken sex off the table in the last few weeks as finals crept closer and more and more paperwork was piled onto his desk. 

Megumi understood, he really did, but that didn’t stop the burning ache he felt every time he saw his teacher at the front of the class. It’s like he was thrown back into his first year when Sukuna was some unattainable figure, someone he could stare at but never touch. It was agony all over again. 

All he wanted was to be back in the arms of the one he loved. 

And Fushiguro Megumi always got what he wanted.

It took no time at all to cook up a plan. Every day the teachers go to eat together, leaving one Ryoumen Sukuna alone in the faculty room (Sukuna hated interacting with the other teachers more than he had to). It would be easy to slip into the room and have his way with his teacher, they had done it dozens of times before. 

So that’s what Megumi did.

He skipped his lunch period in favor of creeping down the hall and around the corner to the faculty room, where the door was left open just a tad, just enough for Megumi to get close and peek inside. The room was empty, the teacher’s desks all left cluttered with strewn about work supplies. The only person left stood next to the copier on the other side of the room, back to the door and absorbed in getting the machine to work. 

Perfect.

Megumi was able to lower himself to the ground and awkwardly duck waddle over to Sukuna’s desk. As he moved the chair, Megumi caught sight of his long-lost thermos, the one Sukuna swears he couldn’t find around his apartment. 

The sentimental bastard. 

Megumi refocused himself, crawling all the way underneath the desk and replacing the chair so that he was completely hidden. “Stupid machine, taking forever to print out a few lousy pieces of paper.” Megumi could hear Sukuna’s agitated muttering. He couldn’t wait to fix that mood.

Sukuna pulled out the chair and promptly sat down, legs sliding under the desk and barely missing hitting Megumi. He could hear slurping from above him, Sukuna eating whatever he had packed in the thermos. Oh, Megumi would make him choke on his lunch.

Without hesitation, Megumi slid both his hands from Sukuna’s knees to his crotch. There was a loud gasp, followed by a curse then the wheels of the chair rolling backward as Sukuna ducked his head to check what had just touched him.

“Fushiguro Megumi, you little minx.” Sukuna breathed, visible relaxation coming to his face at seeing it was his beloved under the desk. “What are you doing? I’m trying to have lunch.”

“Well, I was about to have my own meal before you moved.” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “What did I tell you about finals? I have to focus on getting everything prepared.” 

Megumi leaned forward to better look at his teacher. “I know. That’s why I’m only going to suck you off, that way you can keep working.” He explained. 

Sukuna smirked, obviously interested in the prospect. There was still hesitation though. Megumi could fix that.

“Come on, daddy. Don’t you want my pretty little mouth around your big, fat cock? I promise I’ll do a real good job. I’ll suck you /all/ the way down.” Megumi traced his finger down his throat to emphasize just how deep he’d take the teacher. Hell, he even batted his long eyelashes he knew Sukuna was an absolute sucker for. 

“You drive a hard bargain, darling. How could I deny you now?” Sukuna lifted his head, double-checking there wasn’t anyone else in the room before making eye contact with the student, smirk gracing his face. “Go ahead, doll, get to it.” 

No more encouragement was needed. Megumi reached forward, putting his hands back on Sukuna’s knees and slowly running up his thighs and right over the bulge that was Sukuna’s soft cock. Megumi gave the bulge a few rubs through thin slacks before finally undoing the belt buckle and unzipping the pants. As a precaution, Megumi only pulled Sukuna’s cock from his underwear, letting it flop out and gaze at it in it’s quickly hardening glory. 

Megumi spit in his hand, making sure to make eye contact as he let the saliva drip between his fingers. Megumi could see Sukuna’s breath begin to pick up as he brought the spit soaked hand to the half hard cock. He gave a few pumps, loose and all wrist as he kept a strong look locked on Sukuna. Megumi loved watching the man lose his composure because of /him/. 

He leaned forward and gave a few kitten licks to the tip of the now completely hard dick in his hand. Megumi allowed his tongue to play, dipping into the slit and down the shaft as Megumi’s hand kept twisting a loose fist around the base. Spitting and kissing, getting the dick nice and wet while he mentally prepared himself to choke on it. 

When Megumi’s mouth was back on the tip, just sucking lightly, Sukuna’s hand came to grip the back of his head. “Come on, doll.  What happened to all that big talk from earlier? We don’t have all day. Get to it.”

Megumi huffed, glaring at Sukuna as he complied, finally taking him into his mouth. 

Sukuna was no average man, in any aspect, but especially when it came to his dick. No matter how many times Megumi had it in him, he was always taken aback. It was truly wonderful.

Megumi could already feel the ache in his jaw as he had to stretch his mouth wide to take the entire thing. Actively attempting to open his throat as he kept sinking lower and lower onto the cock, feeling it pass his uvula and enter his throat. Megumi gagged, barely able to cough with his mouth stuffed, soothed by a shushing Sukuna. 

At long last, Megumi’s nose landed in dark, curly pubes. “Atta boy, Megumi.” Sukuna praised, gently petting the student as he adjusted to the intrusion. 

Of course, Sukuna had no decency and when he deemed Megumi was more than accustomed, he proceeded to curl his fingers into Megumi’s hair and pull him off his dick only to force him back down. Megumi really did gag then, the sudden rough treatment not new or unwelcomed. 

Megumi completely let his throat go lax, both hands on Sukuna’s thighs for support and eyes rolled to the back of his head. “What a good boy, you are, letting daddy fuck your face.” 

Drool spilled from the sides of Megumi's mouth, actually dropping onto the floor below him. It felt so good to be used that Megumi just had to sneak a hand down into his own school slacks to free his own wet cock. Drops of precum dribbling from the tip and mixing with drool to make a small puddle. 

“Fuck, look at you. You’re such a fucking mess. A real slut for this cock, aren’t you?”

Megumi moaned in agreement. 

Sukuna continued to force Megumi’s head down, continued to punch his throat and bruise his mouth and absolute /use/ him. “Shit, you’re mouth feels so fucking good.” 

Megumi moaned when Sukuna threw his head back, gripping his head with both hands now as he sped up the movements. “I’m so fucking close,” Megumi hummed, adding some stimulation for his teacher as he jerked himself off faster. 

Just as Megumi was sure Sukuna was about to cum, the man stopped. Hands stilling Megumi’s head and sitting up straight in his chair. Megumi wanted to groan at the lack of movement. How dare he stop when Megumi was so close?

“Sukuna, lovely to see you here.” Came the voice of what Megumi would only guess was another teacher. “ I had a few questions about the upcoming exams.”

Sukuna cleared his throat, scooting his chair in further and crowding megumi under the desk. He was probably trying to hide Megumi better but in reality he was simply stuffing his dick deeper into the teen’s mouth. 

Memgumi might as well have forgotten about the other teacher. He was too focused on the throbbing dick in his mouth. Caution to the wind, Megumi began to suck hard on the appendage. Humming and slobbering and absolutely devouring the thing. 

A cough was heard from above him before a hand shot under the desk and forcibly held Megumi all the way down to the root, keeping him still. “I’m sorry, I’m pretty swamped with my own work right now. Why don’t you come by tomorrow and we can discuss this more.” 

Megumi reached to rub Sukuna’s balls through the pants, causing Sukuna to cough again. “Are you okay, Sukuna? Your face is pretty red.”

“Yes, yes, I’m perfectly fine. Now leave me alone to finish my work.” Sukuna barked at whoever was in the room. 

Followed was a huff, the sound of the door opening and closing, then an angry Sukuna rolling back in the chair and completely dislodging his dick from Megumi. 

“You little slut. Couldn’t wait for one moment, could you? Couldn’t help yourself? Hmm?” 

Megumi was lost in haze, no longer caring about the trouble they could have gotten in. “I’m sorry, daddy. Your dick is just too good. Please, daddy, let me finish. Let me finish.” 

Sukuna sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “What am I going to do with you?” 

He sighed again before placing a gentle hand under Megumi’s chin and tilting his head to look properly at Sukuna. “Open wide, doll. I’m gonna cum straight down that pretty little throat of yours.”

Obedient as ever, Megumi opened his mouth wide to allow Sukuna to glide his cock back in. Megumi gurgled, spewing more precum from his own cock. 

Megumi sucked hard, bobbing like mad until finally Sukuna groaned loud and spilled into the back of his mouth and straight down his throat as promised. It was hot and salty and just what Megumi needed to finish jerking himself to completion, cumming all over the floor. 

Sukuna pulled out, grabbing his chin and pointing Megumi’s hazy eyes to him. “Open. Let me see.” Megumi opened, showing his empty mouth. “Mmm, good boy.”

Slowly, Sukuna guided Megumi to his feet and stood him before the chair. He tucked the boy’s penis away and zipped him up then stood himself to look down at the student. He combed his fingers through Megumi’s eternally unruly hair then gave a tender kiss to the boy’s lips. “Go get cleaned up, doll. Class starts in a few. I’ll clean up here.” 

Megumi whined, tugging lightly on Sukuna’s shirt. He didn’t want to leave the teacher’s side yet. 

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll see you after school. I mean, I still need to punish you for this little naughty stunt afterall.” Sukuna smirked.