#jake (owe) rogers

[rosie-read-that]

one more afternoon / jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary: your brother's best friend pays a visit to his texas hometown, and in spite of your resolution to get over your (slightly embarrassing) childhood unrequited crush, you can't help but admit that you're still down bad for jake seresin.

content warnings: f!reader, alcohol use, oblivious reader can't take a hint

word count: 14k (you told me not to apologize for long fics, so here it is, i present it without apology!)

author’s note: hello, all! i wanted to have this out by thanksgiving, but i got hit with a stomach flu and then with a regular flu, so it took me this long to finish it. i hope the wait was worth it 🫶 the title is taken from a song by maggie rogers. as promised, the next one will be a short (i mean it this time!) and spicy holiday-themed one for all the tyler owens lovers 💓 thank you so much for voting in the poll that got this baby written.

“Did you hear the big news?” Your dad bustled into the shop with his arms full of greenery, grunting as he set the bundles wrapped in newspaper into a bucket. At the counter, your mom paused her accounting and fixed your dad an eager stare. She loved news. “Jake’s coming home for the wedding!” he announced. He brushed his hands off while yours fumbled over the order forms. A few slipped out of sequence and fluttered down to the floor. You bent to pick them up, hearing your mom’s sigh of delight.

“Oh, that's wonderful news! Dinah will be so pleased, and Amanda, too. She was worried Jake wouldn't manage to get leave. You know how much she adores him.”

“Well, she's not the only one. Mike’s ready to throw a whole goshdarn parade in his honor.” The forms retrieved, you busied yourself with putting them back in order. Your dad laughed. “I haven’t seen the kid that excited since the day Gilly was born.”

“Ow!” You stuck your finger in your mouth, the taste of blood making you wince.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” your mom asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just… paper cut.”

She came to your end of the counter. Taking your finger in her hands, she moved it this way and that, squinting at it through her glasses before she dropped a kiss on your head. “Mm, I think you’ll live.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis.”

“Don’t sass me!” she joked. “I’ll call Mike. Maybe we can all throw Jake a nice big barbecue, spend some time together like the old days.”

“He’ll probably be busy with wedding stuff,” you pointed out, mumbling around your finger.

She shot you a look that said spoilsport. “I know Jake, he’ll make the time. Besides, he’ll be walking with you at the wedding, won’t he?” Mom must have taken the shock of surprise for disappointment, because she smacked a hand against her forehead and said, “Oh, sorry! Me and my big mouth!”

It took you a moment to realize she wasn't talking about Jake.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, making a half-hearted attempt to sort through the forms again. Your parents looked at you skeptically. “I’m fine! Josh and I are practically ancient history.”

Dad, bless him, took your word for it, or at least pretended to. He picked up the bucket of sage bundles and took it into the back, but your mom hovered, stroking your shoulder, cloyingly sympathetic. It was clear she wanted to say something but was afraid of how you’d react. Knowing her, she’d give you that hangdog expression all day until you gave her permission to spill the beans, so you gave a deep sigh and turned to her with a look that said, “Alright, let’s have it.”

“I heard he’s bringing Mia to the wedding,” she blurted out. “Amanda was livid. She said she would disinvite him if you wanted—”

“Mom, I hope you told her that wouldn't be necessary.”

“Of course I did! But she said it was a standing offer.”

Oh, bother… Amanda was a sweetheart, if not a little overeager. As much as you appreciated everyone’s tact, it was also part of the reason why you still felt some awkwardness when you thought about Josh. Any time your friends or family brought up your ex, they looked at you like they were expecting you to fall to pieces, especially after word started going around that he had moved on to someone else. No matter how many times you insisted that they could refer to him normally and not as “him” or “you-know-who,” they thought you were being a brave martyr about it, pretending to take it better than you were for the sake of maturity.

“It’s not like that,” you explained for the thousandth time. “Josh and I are fine. And Mia…” Okay, so part of you did want to bash her over the head with a waffle iron. Still… “Nothing untoward happened. We were already broken up when they got together.”

“Well yeah, but after only a month,” your mom scoffed. “That’s hardly enough time to get over a six-year relationship.”

You shrugged. “Maybe some things are meant to be, and some… aren’t.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She hugged you from behind. You grimaced as she squeezed you tight and made cooing sounds. “You don’t have to be so civil about it. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I know, Mom, thanks.” You patted her hand.

“Anytime.” You thought that would be the end of embarrassing conversations you didn't want to have, until she clapped her hands and said, “Look on the bright side - it’ll be good to see Jake again! For him to meet the baby - and won’t the wedding pictures be just darling? He’s so handsome! I know you’ll look just fabulous together…”

-

It was as much cliché as it was ancient history. Jake Seresin - tall, tan, broad-shouldered, with a thousand-watt grin and a starring place on the high school football team - had been your crush since the moment you realized boys were more than just smelly, disgusting nuisances. Hell, you'd liked him even before the letterman jacket, around the time of his first growth spurt, when he’d come back from a summer visiting his aunt and uncle in California. From the porch steps, you'd seen him running into the yard to throw ball with your older brother, Mike, and your stomach had flopped and then flipped, and then flopped again. Looking back, Jake - a mere mortal - had an awkward phase just like everyone else, but you didn't see it at the time. To you, he was the dreamiest guy since you wore out your family’s Titanic VHS trying to feed your preteen fantasies of being Rose romanced by DiCaprio (before the ship went down).

Anyway, Jake’s awkward phase didn't last long. By the time he was a sophomore, he was playing on the junior varsity team along with Mike. Your sports-mad, overly enthusiastic dad gave them his blessing to turn the barn into their own personal gym, and while you complained about the unfairness of the world and the preferential treatment given to male athletes, you did find excuses to “run errands” and “pass through” so you could see Jake, shirtless, glistening with sweat. It didn't take long for Mike to notice. As a preteen, you weren’t exactly known for your finesse. While, in your opinion, you were doing nothing more than offering the boys a little lemonade - like Mom asked you to do - Mike would go back to the house for dinner and declare for all and sundry that he’d “appreciate it if you didn't salivate all over Jake like a peeping tom.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do!”

“Mom, I swear it's not true! He’s making it up. You’re making it up, you buttface! You just don't want me hanging around—”

“Why would I want you hanging around? We’re training! You’re a kid, you're a safety risk!”

“Mooooom!” you wailed.

“Honestly, Mike, don't call your sister a safety risk. You're hardly grown yourself.”

“She called me a buttface!”

“That’s true. Sweetie, don't call your brother a buttface at the table, it's not polite.”

“Fine. I’ll call him a buttface later, like he deserves.”

No further comment was made about your crush on Jake on that occasion, but over the years it became your brother’s weapon of choice when he wanted to knock you down a peg, and “I’ll tell Jake you have a big fat crush on him” was a surefire way to get you to do whatever he wanted.

Once, you went down for a glass of water after you were supposed to be in bed and came upon Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.

“—it’s a harmless little crush,” you heard her say. “We all had them at that age.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don't. She’s your daughter and you're finally working out that she's not going to be a little girl forever.” There was a pause. “You don't have to worry, Stan, I’ve given her The Talk.”

Ew, gross, ew! You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, you remembered The Talk and you didn't want to have it ever again!

Your face heated as you knelt on the stairs. Hearing about The Talk in relation to you and Jake made you think about the stuff you’d seen at your friend Tessa’s house on the TV one night during a sleepover. You had stared at the screen, titillated and kind of horrified at what the actors were doing, the way their bodies moved and the sounds they made. Once the scene was over, you turned to each other and burst into nervous giggles, knowing your parents would blow a gasket if they knew what you’d seen. Not that you understood it. You knew how babies were made, but you didn’t understand what sex was supposed to be.

And your dad was worried about you having it? With Jake?

“He’s a good kid,” your mom gentled. “He knows she's too young for him - I’m not even sure he's aware that she likes him. Even if he is, he treats her like Mike’s kid sister. She’ll grow out of it.”

“If you say so, hon. But God as my witness—”

“She’s gonna have a boyfriend at some point.”

“When she’s eighteen,” your dad declared, “and not a moment sooner!”

You padded back to your room. It wasn’t news, but hearing that Jake thought of you as a kid dealt a heavy blow to your self-esteem. From then on, you resolved to play your cards closer to the chest - you might not be able to help the way he made you feel like your insides had turned to melted goo, but no one else had to talk about it behind your back like you had some sort of disease.

Unfortunately, playing it cool was one of the hardest things you had to do during high school. As it turned out, Jake and Mike were actually pretty good at the whole football thing. Around the time they made varsity, you zeroed in on the fact that girls found their athletic prowess to be sexually irresistible; they were crazy about them - and crazy about Jake in particular.

You watched as he winked and blew kisses at a train of girlfriends while he was out on the field. He leaned against their lockers, turning the charm up to eleven and brushing strands away from their cheeks, saying things like, “Pick you up at six?”

When he got his first truck - a beat-up old Chevy that he bought off Don Amberley by working shifts at the hardware store - you’d peer around your curtains at the sound of his horn. Sometimes Mike would take a while to leave the house, and Jake would turn his head to kiss the pretty girls in his front seat as a way to pass the time. The shy ones laughed, warding him off with a light push against his chest, while the bold ones closed their nails around his shirt and pulled him even closer, all but straddling his lap. You watched with bated breath as he put his hands on them, green with envy, wondering what it would be like to have his attention, not as his best friend’s little sister but as an actual girl.

Your suffering lasted a whole calendar year, after which Jake went off to college, then joined the Navy, and while time made you realize that you needed to move on with your life and stop making up scenarios about a white picket fence and two-point-five children, you never forgot about Jake, who in your mind - and despite your best efforts - remained the measure to which you compared every other guy.

It wasn't just his ridiculously handsome good looks, though having the body of a Greek god and a smile that made your toes curl didn't hurt. He had helped you when you’d scraped your knee roller-blading, letting you lean on his shoulder and fetching the bandages from the downstairs powder room; he joined your mom in the kitchen to do the washing-up when he stayed over for dinner, saying, “ma’am, I insist,” which earned him funny looks from Mike, but it never swayed him into doing things differently. You liked that he’d earned his first truck, got good grades, was a loyal friend. To you, Jake Seresin was the full package and then some - what more could anyone want? And while you had long accepted that he would make another woman very happy someday, the way in which your family teased you about your “little childhood crush” never failed to put your stomach all in knots. There was nothing little about it. In fact, it had now lasted well into adulthood and you had a feeling it would never fully go away.

-

Dad was right. Michael insisted on being part of the airport welcome wagon, cringey sign and all. He even stuck Gilly in an adorable pilot’s costume. Your sister-in-law sent you looks the entire way and, like a saint, restrained herself by only once making a comment about “your brother’s true wife.”

You sat in the backseat, trying to will yourself into being less nervous. Maybe it was your guilty conscience; for some reason, you kept thinking about all the times you’d imagined him in bed, or in the place of one of your boyfriends when you were doing couple-things. Be cool, be cool, you kept telling yourself.

By the time you parked at the airport, you thought your poker face was pretty flawless. After helping Julie wrestle the baby things into the stroller, you made your way through the chaotic mass of people coming and going through the Barbara Jordan terminal. The weather was good. Jake had texted your brother to say that he’d landed safely and was waiting to deplane, and Mike, vibrating with excitement, was trying to stake out a place in the Arrivals hall that would show his dorky Welcome Home, Hangman! sign in optimal light. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing to be seen with him. You kept apologizing to the people he elbowed out of the way, as if to say, “Move aside, I was here first, bud!” But it did strengthen your resolve to be chill because at least one of you had to be.

Finally, you spotted a familiar face in the line of passengers spilling into the hall. Like something out of a romcom, Jake Seresin spotted Mike standing in the crowd, dropped his duffle bag, and came bounding into his arms. They talked over each other between laughter and bro-y exchanges, while Julie snorted through her nose and even Gilly sputtered and snuffled. You could take the boy out of Texas, it seemed… but back home he was still sixteen around friends.

Jake turned to you and smiled. “Hey, Cabbage.”

“Please, don’t,” you said, feeling awkward about the old nickname.

“Come here, bring it in.” He held out his arms, grinning, and there was no conceivable reason why you’d say no, so you steadied your nerves and stepped into them. He wrapped his arms around you. He smelled just as good as you remembered him - better, even, because a memory could never be as good as the real thing.

“You’re so stiff!” Jake pointed out, squeezing you tighter.

“No, I’m not.”

“What am I, your creepy uncle?” He looked down at you, then over your shoulder and spotted the baby in Julie’s arms.

His smile lit up his whole face and you felt your heart twist against your ribcage. You let out a breath when he let you go, trying not to fixate on the way his hand brushed against your shoulder as he did so, a slide that seemed to linger.

Fondness - that was all it was, you told yourself. He’d known you all your life and he was fond of you.

He turned his attention now to your little niece.With something like awe, he said, “Michael, you old bastard…” Then, “Sorry, little lady - you must be Gilly! Hi! Hi there, it’s your Uncle Jake! Your not-at-all-creepy Uncle Jake…”

“Nice one,” you threw back.

He grinned wider, saying, “Julie, how are you?”

“About as well as can be expected with a teething baby.”

“Well, you look great.”

“Liar,” Julie replied, but his comment made her stand a little straighter.

He let Gilly grip his finger in an attempt at a handshake. Being a sucker for attention, she wiggled her body in her mother’s grasp and held her arms out to the smiley stranger, wanting to be carried. Jake was thrilled. He bounced her in his arms the entire way to the car, asking about the wedding, his parents, how Amanda was doing, which of their friends he could expect to see on Saturday afternoon. Mike stuck to him like glue, carrying Jake’s bag for him and answering his questions. You were certain he’d send Julie to the back so Jake could ride shotgun, but instead, he loaded Gilly into her baby seat and Jake touched you on the elbow, saying, “I can take the middle seat.”

“You don't want the window?” you asked, your arm tingling. He had slipped on a pair of sunglasses once he left the terminal and he looked like a movie star, all golden skin, slicked-back hair, and a hint of stubble on his jaw. You had no idea how you were supposed to survive a 90-minute car ride when just the sight of him made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“I want to sit next to my goddaughter. You get her all the time,” he pointed out and ducked into the car.

Helpless, you climbed in after him and pulled the door closed. In the back of the SUV, there was no way for your bodies not to touch. By necessity, your arms and thighs pressed together, his body solid and warm. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself by squirming away even though your heart was beating double-time and you were at a loss as to what to do with your hands.

Thankfully, the car started moving, and by the time you made it onto the highway you had almost gotten used to the feeling of his muscled forearms and the smell of his cologne. You were focusing on the passing landscape as he made small talk with Mike and Julie, so it caught you unawares when he turned to you and said, “So - it seems we’re paired up for the wedding. I’m sorry about you and Whatshisface, by the way.”

Here we go… “I know that you name his name, Jake.”

“Do I? Persona non grata. I must have erased him from my memory chip.” He was grinning like the cat who caught the canary, and there was something about the twinkle in his eye that made you glare daggers at your brother, who was looking suspiciously blank-faced sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my God, Mike, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I just said you two broke up and that he’s with Mia now.”

“That cow,” Julie put in.

“Okay, time out!” you called, doing the motion with your hands. “As much as I appreciate this show of familial solidarity, it’s really not necessary. Josh and I are cool.”

“Well, we’re not!” Mike said.

“Then be cool, Mike! And you!” You wagged your finger in front of Jake. He stared at it like it was the most amusing thing in the world. “You just got here. Do you really want to spend the rest of the week picking fights that have nothing to do with you?”

Evidently, the answer was yes, but he raised his hands in a facetious show of surrender. “Hey, I never liked the guy.”

“Dude, neither did I!” Mike crowed.

“What? You never said anything!”

“I’ve always said that - haven’t I, babe?”

“Mike, you say a lot of things,” Julie drawled.

“…including the fact that I never liked the guy! Him and his beady little eyes—”

“He gets hay fever!” you defended. “That’s not his fault!”

“—and the fact that he stayed in the apartment—”

“I wanted to move out! Julie, a little help here?”

“Hey, I don't like the guy either.”

“What?” You were flabbergasted. You thought that everyone liking Josh was the whole reason why they felt communally betrayed by the breakup. Now they were acting like the spearheads of an anti-Josh conspiracy? “Are you seriously telling me this six years after the fact? You went to games with him!”

“Wait, you went to games with Josh Spritzer?” Jake balked, his voice going up an octave while Mike went red in the face.

“I was in a dark place, man. Julie was pregnant and you weren't around… It was a case of the pre-baby blues!”

“I feel like you just admitted to cheating on me. Josh Spritzer?”

“Hey!” you warned.

“I mean, I guess it’s all a matter of taste, sweetheart…”

“Seresin, what the hell!”

“…although God knows I never knew what you saw in him—”

“Oh, didn't you?”

“Hey, I love you all sooo much,” Julie piped up from the passenger seat, “Jake, I’m happy you’re here, but will you all shut up so Gilly can sleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Though Jake sobered up, the provoking glint remained in his eyes. Once more you were aware of his closeness and the heat of his skin.

“Unbelievable…” you said underneath your breath, crossing your arms, your reward being another one of Jake’s dazzling smiles.

-

When you arrived, the reunion was as rowdy as you expected. About two dozen Seresins and their closest friends and family had convened at Jake’s childhood home. Amanda cried when she saw her favorite cousin coming towards her, and she excitedly introduced him to her husband-to-be, a bookish engineer named Christian who came from a small family and seemed as flattered as he was overwhelmed by all the attention.

Dinner was served outdoors, buffet style. The backyard was strung up with twinkling lights and music played from a pair of speakers stationed at the back porch. The air was festive and full of hope; it was easy to get caught up in the pre-wedding bliss when you were well-fed, your glass never empty, the company some of your most loved people in the world.

Josh - thank God - was not in attendance. He was supposed to walk down the aisle with you. Your save-the-date and wedding invitation had arrived labeled with his name along with yours, the assumption being that of course your long-term, live-in boyfriend would be your date. After you’d broken up, Amanda had to reshuffle her arrangements to keep you as one of her bridesmaids, the only upside being that Jake’s uncertain attendance made him your perfect partner.

Well, perfect for Amanda, if not for you.

At some point in the night, after speeches had been made and dessert served, Jake took the seat next to you to chat with his great-aunt Sandy and her boyfriend, Clyde. The apple pie came courtesy of Mrs. Seresin, who had the best recipe in the county and probably the entire state of Texas, in your limited and yet eager opinion. You demolished it with aplomb and once you finished, Jake pushed his plate towards you, the crust untouched. “Have at it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“I know it’s your favorite part.”

The fact that he remembered made you feel sixteen again, watching him come home from university, crushed at knowing that he had a whole life you didn't know about, people he knew who were probably far more interesting, sophisticated and self-assured. He joined the Navy, and then moved out west while you stayed behind in your hometown, stationary while he took to the skies.

He had always been nice to you, for all that he enjoyed teasing you and even making fun of you on occasion. But that didn't mean you would ever be anything more to him than his best friend’s sister, someone he indulged in the same way as Amanda.

You excused yourself from the table, picking up plates as a pretense to head inside and get a few moments to yourself. This was exactly the reason why you hadn't wanted Jake to come home. Selfishly, in your heart of hearts, you had prized your own comfort above Amanda’s happiness, which made you feel like a Grade-A jerk, but you weren't ready to confront the way he made you feel after all this time. How could you explain to yourself, let alone anyone else, that you were holding out for a fantasy you’d had since you were young?

Suddenly, the presence of everyone you’d known and loved all your life felt oppressive rather than a source of delight. You poured yourself a glass of wine from one of the open bottles on the counter and went out to the Seresins’ front porch. From there, the sounds of the party seemed far away and you let out a sigh of relief. You sat on the ledge with your back to one of the vertical beams, watching the night breeze move the branches on the trees and the clouds which obscured the waning moon. Gradually, your mind slowed its pace and you were able to enjoy the song of the night critters mingled with the distant music of someone - probably Clyde - strumming his guitar.

Your repose was broken by the screen door opening and then clattering shut behind you, making you turn your head to see Jake coming outside, just a touch sheepish but for the most part his usual Jake-self, out of his jacket and carrying a bottle of beer.

He lowered himself beside you, and after a moment’s silence, said, “So, how’ve you been? Aside from Whatshisface.”

You shot him a warning look. If he was bringing up Josh, it was only to tease you like he’d done in the car and you weren’t in the mood right now to be the butt of a joke - not when you felt so vulnerable about what he was to you. (Dammit… and of course this has to be a wedding.)

“What,” he said, gently cajoling, “I can’t ask?”

“About my personal life? You never used to care.”

“In high school, I don’t think I was supposed to care. And afterwards—”

“Afterwards, Hangman got a little too full of himself,” you quipped.

“Hey… that's… actually pretty accurate, I’m not gonna lie.” He took a swig of beer, laughing as he said it. The porch light threw his features into sharp relief and you gave yourself permission to look at him - really look at him - for the first time since he returned.

Setting aside that he was gorgeous as ever, he seemed less carefree than you remembered, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He appeared, well, like a grown-up, for lack of a better word. You wondered whether you were being unfair in making assumptions when you had both changed so much in the last decade, as people tended to do. He wasn’t just the dream guy in your head; he was so many things in his own right, and he was here with you, wanting to talk - and maybe trying to get to know you on an even field.

If only that wasn't another reason to love him.

“You seem different,” you said, hoping your voice wasn’t giving you away.

He looked at you for a few breaths, the corner of his mouth tipped up but the rest of his face serious. Then he shrugged in mock humility with a “What can I say, greatness suits me.”

“Idiot…” You shook your head and let out a snort, though on the inside you felt full of champagne - fizzy and bright because he was with you.

“How's the shop going?” he asked after a beat.

“Pretty well. We’re doing the flowers for Amanda’s wedding.”

“And you're bridesmaiding?”

“It’s hardly flying F-18s.”

“I think Amanda would disagree.”

“Well, it is her wedding,” you pointed out, “she’s—”

“Out of her mind,” Jake enounced.

“She’s excited,” you corrected even as a montage ran through your head of all the times Amanda had texted the wedding party’s WhatsApp group to say that “a catastrophe” had occurred or that today was the worst day of her life because “the linen photos do NOT reflect the true shade. I wanted SAGE green - doesn’t this look laurel to you?”

“She’s my cousin,” Jake went on. “In fact, she’s my favorite cousin - which is how I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’s the biggest bridezilla this side of the Mississippi. To being wedding buddies,” he said and held his beer out towards you, “’cause God knows we’re gonna need it.”

“Wedding buddies,” you said, and clinked your glass. You waited until he had a mouthful of beer to say, “So, how’s your love life these days?”

“O-ho!” He nearly choked. “We are not doing that.”

“That hardly seems fair!”

“Age before beauty, Cabbage: I still get to make a few of the rules.” Watching your face work into a grimace, he laughed. “You really do hate when I call you that, don't you? Look at you! It's like a full-body cringe!”

“Stop it!” you complained.

The unfortunate nickname started back when you were a kid and had a penchant for a particular Cabbage Patch doll, which, in hindsight, seemed like an emotional support object, thank you very much. You carried it around until you were forcibly parted during Kindergarten - hence, Cabbage Patch, which in time shortened itself to “Cabbage.” It was cute when your mom said it, but Jake?

“You don't seem to mind when Mike calls you that,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve seen Mike in all sorts of undignified situations. It evens the playing field.”

“I’d say we've known each other almost as long.”

“It is not the same.”

“How come?”

“It’s just… not.”

“I’m getting nothing else out of you by way of an explanation, aren't I? Fine…” he dramatically sighed. “I guess I’ll stop calling you Cabbage.”

“You don't have to…”

“Nope, it's done, it's retired!”

“Thank you,” you said, a little embarrassed.

From the backyard came a round of applause as Clyde finished his song. Jake smiled at you, then leaned close with a devilish glint in his eye. “Are you sure you're okay with the whole Josh thing? We can always make it our mission to make him insanely jealous.”

You scoffed. “Please, he would never buy that. You and me? He’d see right through it.”

“I want you to know that your lack of faith in my abilities is deeply, deeply hurtful. I’m just saying! You haven't seen me in action!”

“Oh, I’ve seen you in action, alright…”

“There she is!” he cackled.

You hoped the laughter meant he’d missed the note of jealousy in your voice. “Besides, I don't care about making him jealous,” you said with a shrug. “He and Mia are good together.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… Okay, look,” you sighed, “the only reason I’m telling you this is because you're not them, so I’d better not hear a word from Mike about anything I’m about to tell you. Deal?”

He nodded, and mimed zipping his lips closed for dramatic effect.

“There’s just… no sob story about it,” you began. “By the time it was over, it was almost a relief. And honestly? If it hadn't been for our families, we would've broken up ages ago.”

“What was wrong with him?”

By the look on his face, it was like he expected you to say he had a funny snore or that he chewed too loudly or had an extra head. If only the truth were that tangible. He wasn't mean to you, didn't cheat. But he wasn't Jake. He didn't make you excited to wake up in the morningz

“By the end, we were more like roommates than boyfriend and girlfriend,” you explained. “I mean, when it happened, did I want to claw Mia’s face off, knowing she’d been angling for an opening for years? Of course I did. But that was more about my pride than anything. I wasn't heartbroken. I’m not,” you insisted. “But telling them that would feel like ruining Christmas. They're having fun slinging mud on my behalf.”

“And maybe just a tiny part of you enjoys it?” Jake asked.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed. “Do you really think I’m above a bit of harmless spite? Hell, I practically wrote the playbook. But what you said - about your pride being hurt? That goes for him too, you know. He doesn't have to buy the whole thing, he just has to see you moving on. Trust me, it’ll hurt.”

“Maybe I don't care enough to hurt him.”

Jake studied you, his eyes shining in the warm glow. “You really have grown up,” he said at last. “I, on the other hand—”

“Oh, come on. Jake, you’re all talk, always have been.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The summer before your junior year,” you pointed out, “you spent nearly all of it replacing Will Delonge’s wooden fence and you told no one about it. The only reason I know is because Mom found out—”

“Your mom finds out about everything,” Jake lamented.

That she did. “You helped Arn McCallister with his math grade,” you added. “You asked Gina to dance at the Winter Ball when her friends made that bet—”

“Some friends,” he interjected. “I swear, Fiona Brussaurd still scares the shit out of me. What, were you keeping tabs on me all through high school?”

“Everyone was keeping tabs on you all through high school,” you confessed. “You were Jake Seresin, Hometown Hero. You still are. You could probably get away with murder.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. If you weren't mistaken, there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks, but it might have been the beer he finished, or a play of the light. “Actually, I can’t. Semper Fortis, remember? You can't fly planes in prison. Besides, I am way too pretty for that uniform.”

“And you always do that,” you replied. “Try to throw people off the scent of you being an actually decent guy. But I know the truth,” you pointed out. “You have a tell.”

“Really, what's that?”

Over the course of the conversation Jake had angled towards you without your notice; now, your knees were touching and his upturned mouth was close enough to kiss. Your heart was racing in your chest, and yet his gaze was like a challenge - don’t back down, he seemed to say, and that was all Jake. He was exhilarating, just by being himself.

You dared to draw even closer, as if whispering a secret. “Mothers love you.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at pretending.”

“Take the hit, Seresin. No one is that good.”

Smiling, he nudged your knee and leaned back on his hands, sitting with you until the first early-nighters began to leave.

-

Amanda Seresin was two years older than Jake. Her dad, Jake’s uncle, passed away when Amanda was fourteen, and ever since, Jake and his parents had taken her and Dinah under their wings. Jake was the closest thing she had to a brother, and though he was younger, you knew Jake was incredibly protective of her and his aunt, so you were determined not to ruin his wedding experience by being a lovestruck weirdo.

After your time together on the porch, that might prove difficult for you. But this was about Amanda. She assigned you to be his date, and you were going to be a professional about it.

Literally. You were handling the flowers, after all.

“These are a little tall, aren’t they?” your mom asked, fretting over the tulips at the center of one of the guest tables. “I asked for measurements, but now that they’re here…”

You glanced at your watch. “We have time to fix them.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, mom, all of them. Let’s take them into the kitchen, then we can rush up and change before the cocktails start.” You knew she wouldn’t have a speck of peace if she didn’t get them trimmed. She would fret and fuss, and probably commit floral kidnapping crimes when it all got too much. She liked everything to be perfect, especially for the people she loved, so you ignored the time crunch and your watch yelling at you that it was 4:35, twenty-five minutes before guests were due to arrive for drinks and canapés, and, signaling for your dad to help gather up the centerpieces, you rushed into the venue’s kitchen and started trimming down with the nearest pair of garden shears.

Your mom breathed a sigh of relief when the task was done and a few of the earliest guests offered to help carry the vases back to the tables, giving you enough time to head upstairs and put on the blue dress you’d brought in a garment bag.

So you were fussing about your looks… That didn’t mean you were not chill, it just meant you wanted to look nice… for Amanda. For the photos. It had nothing to do with Jake Seresin at all.

By the time you made it down - finally, and a little late since you spent more on it than usual perfecting your makeup - there were about sixty people on the lawn, nibbling on pulled pork sliders and mac-and-cheese bites, mini tacos and bacon-wrapped dates. You spotted your dad grabbing one of everything and your mom pulling on his sleeve, probably to hiss, “Pace yourself, hon.” She had a glass of champagne in one hand, more as a prop, since half of her attention was spent surveying her work as if anticipating one of the centerpieces to go up in flames.

Knowing her, she might have packed a tiny fire extinguisher in that glittery, silver clutch.

You stifled a laugh, grabbing a plate and a few of the canapés from a passing waiter. The rehearsal dinner was a much bigger affair than the barbecue Jake’s parents had thrown for close friends and family the night before. You knew Josh would be in attendance (probably with Mia) and so would a lot of your high school crowd. Letting out a sigh, you threw your shoulders back and tried to look relaxed, exchanging greetings as you mingled with the growing number of guests. It was a beautiful night. God must love Amanda, as He should, because the weather was balmy in a pleasant way, warm enough that the ladies could throw off their wraps and show off their dresses, the men leave their jackets draped over chairs.

The venue was a little bed and breakfast with a sprawling back patio and hedges that grew around the property, gracefully unkempt, with magnolia trees in bloom. You said hello to your old History teacher, a small, soft-spoken woman with a gray bob and tortoiseshell glasses dangling on a chain. In turn, she had taken personal interest in Amanda, Jake, and then you - she was the whole reason Amanda went into teaching, and you heard Jake mention once that he wouldn’t have joined the Navy if not for her. Sometimes, you felt a little self-conscious about not having more to show for your education, but Ms. Beauchene never made you feel like your life choices were a disappointment. She popped into the flower shop on occasion, pleased with her paper-wrapped bouquets, and no matter what, without fail, you’d ring her up and she’d say with full honesty, “These are going to make my week,” before she walked out humming.

You were glad Amanda included her in the rehearsal, especially when you spotted Josh walking in with his arm around Mia’s waist. Excusing yourself, you made for the bar and ordered one of the signature cocktails, Amanda’s favorite blackberry bourbon smash, and downed half of it before turning back and making small talk as if your life depended on it. Strangely enough, it wasn’t the sight of Josh that had you feeling like the inside of your brain was crawling with ants. It was Mia. You hated the thought of her seeing any kind of weakness in you - that she might take in your appearance and think that your hairdo was messy or that your eyes looked a little dark, and assume from it that she’d left you a human wreck after her little victory.

Without a doubt, Mia had attended the Fiona Brussaurd School of Mean Girls, and the last thing you wanted to do was appear like the lesser creature. So when your family began to fuss under the pretense of “casually” making conversation, you swatted them away, feeling grateful when dinner was announced and everyone could retreat to their neutral corners.

You chose to sit at a table with a few old school friends, one of whom was also in the wedding party, and to avoid the meaningful looks Julie had been sending you all evening, you sat with your back to the rest of the guests, enjoying the hour of relative peace and reminiscing, the view of an ornamental fountain set with warm lights, and your plate of pan-seared sea bass and cheesy potatoes. Gradually, the music shifted from sit-down easy listening to dancing tunes, and the people at your table began seeking out partners or joining those already on the lawn who were spinning and jiving in every available space.

Soon, you were alone at the table. You leaned back in your chair, enjoying the breeze against your face. If you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of music and laughter, you could almost forget all the drama with your ex…

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Jake and his movie-star grin. The butterflies started banging around your stomach again. Forget the tulips, you were the one with your nerves all in a tangle tonight.

“Hey, stranger - ’nother drink?” he asked, offering you another of the bourbon cocktails. He had a rocks glass in his other hand, and without waiting for an invitation he took the chair next to you, throwing his arm across the back of yours.

You replied, “Yes, please,” trying not to melt into his touch. Nuzzling against him like a cat would not be chill, you reminded yourself, even if he did look incredible with his open dress shirt collar and the little peek of his chest made you feel like a Victorian with the vapors.

He lounged in that casual way of his, attractive without trying. “These things really go on forever, don't they?”

“And it’s just the rehearsal dinner.”

“What happened to getting married on a Tuesday while everyone’s at work?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you just quote Runaway Bride?”

His face went still. “What, no.”

“Yes, you did!” you exclaimed, setting down your drink and straightening in your seat. Jake looked mildly panicked and was doing his best to look innocent, which you found absolutely hilarious. “Oh my God, are you a closet romcom man?”

“It must've been subconscious.”

“Subconscious, my ass,” you shot back.

“She looks happy.” Jake tipped his head towards Amanda despite the fact that she was behind you both, out of sight, and clearly being used as a way to change the subject. “You know the guy?”

“You met him yesterday,” you said. And I know what you're doing implicit was in your tone.

Jake shrugged, an expert at deflection. “Yeah, but it's hard to tell what a guy’s made of from a single meeting.”

Deciding that the accusation of Romcomitis would go unanswered on this particular occasion, you tested the limits of his cool under pressure, pretending to deliberate before you played along with the conversational shift.

“D’you want to hear the absolute worst thing I can think to say about him?”

Jake went battle-ready, poised to hate the guy. You watched his shoulders and the set of his jaw change, and it made you want to touch the side of his face and kiss the frown away, laughing as you did.

Just messing with you, you would say.

It would be so easy. Maybe the fantasy was clouding your judgment - along with your third cocktail of the night - but you could feel in your body that being with Jake would be as natural as breathing.

You looked over your shoulder, watching Christian lean into Amanda to whisper something into her ear.

He had his hand on her arm and looked a little spooked, probably because one of the Seresins’ honorary aunts, Jackie, who was known for her tell-it-like-it-is comments, no matter how indiscreet, was walking away. Poor guy. Amanda giggled at whatever he said and stroked his hand, whispering back words of reassurance. Their demeanor together was easy, full of shorthand. And Amanda did look happy - so happy that it made you a little jealous, pleased as you were that she had found her person.

Jake followed your gaze, watching them alongside you.

“He's a little dull,” you explained. “But in a good way. He mellows her out.”

“Amanda? That sounds like an impossible task. But I can see it…” He cocked his head. “I think.”

You turned your eyes back to your own table. Jake was fiddling with his glass, watching the amber liquid swirling around the oversized iced cube. He looked pensive, a furrow appearing between his brows that, in another life, you would have stroked away.

He shook his head and raised the glass to his lips. “You don't realize how much you've missed…”

Before you could think about it, you had your hand on his arm. “Hey, no one's keeping score.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Then don't,” you insisted. “You do what you've gotta do - we all know that. Your parents know it, Amanda knows it. She’s just happy you're here.”

You could tell that, as much as he appreciated your words, they weren't enough to sweep away all the moments he hadn't been around to see. It didn't matter that Jake loved flying planes, that he was proud to be one of the best naval aviators in the service, and wouldn't change his career for the world. He was still in a position where he had to ask you what Amanda’s future husband was like. He had missed his goddaughter’s christening, had to rush out of Mike and Julie’s wedding five years ago… He’d made an oath, and for as long as he wore the uniform, his first commitment was to something other than his family. Other than himself.

He spoke his next words quietly, almost to himself, just for you.

“You know, the thing about flying is that when you're up there, nothing else matters. It can’t. All of your focus, all of your faculties, your energy… they're in the air. Meanwhile, all of this real life… the thing we’re meant to be safeguarding for everyone else, it doesn't stop, and when you land right back in the middle of it—”

He stopped.

“Yeah?” You were hanging on for the rest of it, eager for these little pieces of Jake that you stored up even after he was gone.

“I mean, it feels like yesterday since I left for college, signed up. Now Amanda’s getting married, Mike’s having kids, you are having just the worst luck of the year…”

“Hey!” you laughed.

“I’m kidding, kidding!”

“You’re sounding like an old man, Jake. You're thirty-two - pull yourself together. Jeez! Who knew Top Gun would make you so existential? Is that why you're self-medicating with classic romantic comedies?”

“If you ever tell Mike, I swear to God—” He pointed his finger at you, and you pinched it in two of yours, earning a chuckle and a childish attempt at a thumb-war game that was interrupted when the bride herself came up behind you and threw her arms around you both with a “Hey, you two!”

“Mands!” Jake exclaimed, craning his neck to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Having fun?”

“Absolutely. So, so much—”

“You big fibber,” Amanda threw back. “Why are you here? Go dance!”

“Can’t. I’m keeping my date company, and a gentleman never abandons his date. It’s in the rules.”

“Good thing I know you're not a gentleman. You're in my wedding party!” she said. “It’s up to you two to set a good example for the other guests.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall we?” He offered you his hand, throwing Amanda a look that said, See? I’m following orders.

She smiled back, giving you room to rise from your chairs and circle round. With her arms crossed, she watched as you found an open space, making sure you’d followed through before seeking out her next victims.

As bad luck would have it, the song switched from something uptempo to an Ashley Monroe ballad, romantic strings and all. “Has anybody ever told you/ that when you walk into a dark room/ the light of a thousand moons surround you?/ Yeah, there's just something about you./ Has anybody ever told you?”

It was stupid, but the words felt so real with Jake’s hands on you that you were worried he’d be able to read your mind or see on your face that you meant every sentence. You tried looking anywhere else, at the other couples, the catering staff picking up empty glasses, at your mom fluffing a perfectly decent bouquet, anywhere but at Jake.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” you asked, eyes darting nervously at being caught red-handed.

“Tense up like I’ve got the plague,” Jake said. “You’re making this weird.”

“I’m making what weird?”

“We’re dancing!” He pressed one hand against your hip, the other into your lower back. “Just dance!”

“By which I’m sure you mean, ‘just follow my lead’?”

You didn't mean to sound so prickly, you were just panicking and trying to throw Jake off the scent. This does not constitute playing it cool, you scolded yourself. But instead of taking it badly, Jake laughed as he stared down at you.

“If you like. Or I can follow yours if it makes you feel any better. Here, you can put your hand on my waist - but leave room for Jesus.”

“Dork.”

“There we go,” he cajoled, swaying with you in time to the beat. “Letting you insult me seems to really get your engines going. We should analyze that.”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“I don’t know, do I?” He cackled out loud at the dark look you sent his way, stroking your back in a way that meant absolutely nothing, but which you felt all the way down to your toes. “You make it too easy,” he added.

Jake’s sense of humor made it hard to stay self-conscious. Eventually, you eased into the dance and you were almost sorry when the song switched to something a little more upbeat that didn't require him to stand so close to you. Still, he twirled you in a circle and brought you back into the solid curve of his body, showing off.

Then, out of nowhere, his face worked into a scowl as he spotted something a few yards to your right. You turned your head to see what it was, so lost in the moment that it took a few seconds for you to register that Josh was dancing with Mia, quite well, actually, to the Texas Tornados.

“Look at that schmuck.”

“Jake…” you warned.

“What? It’s just an observation, I’m not saying it for your benefit.”

“She looks incredible,” you sighed. On anyone else, the dress she had on would make them look like a costume disco ball, but on Mia it looked modern and chic, showing off her body and matching well with a slicked back bun and dangly earrings.

Jake’s shoulder rose and fell beneath your hand. “If you say so. She’s not really my type.”

Are you serious?  “Jake, just about every woman is your type.”

“I’m sorry, are you slut-shaming me right now? In this political climate? I could have you canceled for that.”

“Ha-ha,” you said in response. “I mean, look at her, she is objectively a 10 - don’t say you wouldn’t. Hell, I would if I were inclined that way… Don’t!” You pinned Jake with a warning stare, cutting off the joke that was on the tip of his tongue and dying to come out.

“Well, I wouldn’t now,” he said instead.

“Gee, thanks.”

“For the sake of our friendship.”

The word made you tense up again - not on purpose, it was an automatic reaction you wanted to take back as soon as you went stiff all over again. And it didn't escape Jake’s notice.

“What?” he questioned, cupping your shoulders and shaking you a little as a gag. “Oh my God, have you ever thought about taking up yoga? Meditation?”

“Flying lessons?” you shot back.

“Hey, don’t knock it. Compared to you, I am a very chilled-out person.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right. No matter what was going on inside Jake, he knew how to keep a calm exterior. You’d always admired that about him. With the exception of your dad, your family wasn't known for its cool under pressure. Even Mike could be a bit of a basket case. That’s why he and Julie worked so well together.

You sighed again, wondering if you’d ever find your own version of Christian or Julie, someone who fit with all of your wonky parts and made you feel, regardless of circumstance, that everything would turn out okay.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” You looked at Jake, startled by the remark and the heat rushing into your face. He was dead serious. The levity you saw in his eyes had nothing to do with his tone, which was kind but not pitying. And you knew Jake would never say something like that if he didn’t mean it. “Not that it’s a competition,” he tacked on, “I’m just saying… don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure he’s eating his heart out right now.”

“And how would you know a thing like that?”

“Because he hasn’t stopped looking at us for the last sixty seconds.”

Your gaze drifted off to the side before Jake took your chin in his hand, his touch gentle and yet firm.

“Don’t look!” he chided. “Jesus… That’s recon 101 - I’ve got your six, you keep dancing and pretend we’re not talking about him, you amateur!”

“Sorry! You’re so bossy!” you grumbled, fighting off another blush.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

The word zinged through your body along with the killer Jake Seresin dimpled grin, and to make matters worse, he twirled you again, laughing when he brought you to rest your back against his chest. Josh froze when he saw you, spotting Jake’s hands on your waist. But you couldn’t care less - you were breathless, with Jake’s mouth close enough to kiss, reminding you of his knee nudge on the porch and his arm beneath your hand.

For a moment, you could almost believe that he was flirting with you for real. If you turned your head, would he accept the press of your mouth against his? Would he push you away or pull you in closer, regardless of your families watching and Josh staring, almost open-mouthed, like he couldn’t believe Jake fucking Seresin would give you the time of day?

Before you could make a choice, the song ended and Jake released you from his grip, keeping a hand on your back as he herded you away from the dance floor and to the bar, where he ordered a beer and asked if you wanted something. If you answered, you weren’t aware. You felt not in control, your stomach all in knots and the memory of Jake’s touch seared into your skin. A part of you still wanted desperately to kiss him and the other wanted to rush into the B&B and burst into tears from sheer confusion. Meanwhile, Jake seemed perfectly fine, chatting with the bartender on duty and leaning against the counter as he dropped a few bills into the tip jar.

“What are you doing?” you asked when you felt him touching you on the shoulder.

“Pretending you have lint on your dress.”

“Hey! On the dance floor was one thing, but I am not aiming to make this entire weekend about making my ex jealous. Any high school dude-vendetta you have against Josh should be addressed on your own time, you psycho. Besides, he’s never going to actually buy it.”

“Alright.” Jake threw up his hands, lowering the charm down a few watts. Your drinks were set down on a pair of square cocktail napkins and you took up yours, a fizzy gin thing with lemon that made you wonder whether you shouldn’t have stuck with bourbon to avoid going around with a hangover on Amanda’s wedding day.

Jake went on. “But I’m really not liking all this negative self-talk, you know. Mia might be a 10, but at most he’s, like, a 6…”

“Oh, be quiet!”

“You’re an 8.”

“What?” The alcohol either rushed up to your head or evaporated completely. How the hell did Jake manage to say things that left you completely dumbfounded and without a single intelligent thought in your head? And he did it with a smile! This one was purposefully subdued as he waved around with the beer in his hand as if making a profound point.

“You’re way out of his league. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed?”

“Okay, well…”

“You’re blushing!” he remarked. “That’s adorable.”

“You’re not funny, Seresin.”

“Hey, I joke about a lot of things, but I don’t go around handing 8s to just anyone.”

“Oh, look, they’re bringing out coffee.” The needle was tipping firmly towards the need to escape, though it wasn’t that serious - you knew it wasn’t; Jake had a tendency to be a flirt and he usually didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes, it could even be amusing to play along, to get swept up in his wit and the light of his attention. But you didn’t want to play. And you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his company because you weren’t. You loved every precious second you got to spend with him, knowing he’d be off to California soon and that the next time you might see him could be months or even a year from now.

Getting your hopes up would be a mistake, and you were dangerously close to doing it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He touched your elbow gently. You wished he couldn’t read you so well. Or that he could read you better, and see what you had been trying to say to him for years but were too scared to utter.

You did your best to smile. “Nothing’s wrong. You don’t have to hover all night. Go, take a load off, have fun.”

“I am having fun,” he said, frowning. “Aren’t you?”

“I was. I am,” you corrected, frustrated with yourself for not taking it better. For not being cool and together and the sort of girl who took charge and damned the outcome. She would’ve kissed Jake when she had the chance. She would have shown up to California. Hell, she would’ve made her move ages ago instead of pining, pathetically, and letting twenty years go by.

That’s what Mia had done. And that’s why she had her dream guy - your former guy - while you were exactly in the same position, too tongue-tied to take a shot.

“Just… can you give me some space?” you blurted out, your frustration bleeding through.

The hurt in Jake’s expression was there and gone in a lightning flash, but you’d seen it and you felt terrible about it. Before you could say anything to make it better, he’d replaced it with a devil-may-care smile.

“Got it,” he said, his voice a little tight around the edges. “Well… I’ll make myself scarce. Holler if you need me.”

With that, he took his beer and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to weave your way through oblivious partygoers to find the nearest ladies’ room, where you locked yourself in a stall and tried not to ruin your makeup with the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

-

Hindsight was a bitch. The next morning you were sure you’d overreacted, made a fool of yourself and created a potentially awkward situation now that the wedding day was upon you and you had to take his arm, in - you glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand - five-and-a-half hours, and walk with him down the aisle wearing a smile for the sake of the photographers.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands and calling yourself every name in the book.

Jake had promised to be your wedding buddy and then sweetly kept his word, and what did you do in response? Completely freak out, you scatterbrained nincompoop.

As penance, you threw yourself into the arrangement of the reception flowers, channeling your mother while you directed the staff this way and that, trying not to think about Jake and the mortifying apology that awaited you. It was the right thing to do - not only to clear the air but because he hadn't deserved being chewed out in a momentary panic, and you knew you wouldn't feel right with yourself if you didn't take the blame and say your mea culpa.

But boy were you dreading it.

“You should head out now, Cabbage,” your mom advised around eleven o'clock. “Dad and I can handle the rest and you should be with Amanda, spend some time with the girls before the big event.”

“Are you sure you don't need help with the aisle arrangements?” A cowardly attempt, but you did it anyway.

“We’ve got it,” Mom repeated, turning you around and all but shepherding you into the parking lot. She waved you off with a “have fun,” and you couldn't help your brain’s internal response of “fat chance.”

All the way to the B&B you kept rehearsing what you might say to Jake when you saw him, but by the time you pulled up and found a free parking space, you were sweating, physically and metaphorically, and thinking that, maybe, if you listened to TED Talks rather than Dateline, you might have an enlightened response to your current dilemma.

You fetched your bagged bridesmaid's dress from the trunk of the car, along with your makeup bag and hair tools. You’d have to use the shower before you started getting ready, but you were looking forward to get-ready champagne and a throwback playlist. Anything to feel more like your normal self and less like a silly teenager who couldn’t talk to boys.

You went up three flights of stairs to reach the bridal suite. From both sides, you could hear music spilling out into the hall, an ABBA classic clashing with Brett Young. Automatically, you placed your hand on the doorknob leading towards bouncy 80s pop only for it to turn and spring open, revealing Jake with an undone bow tie hanging around his neck.

It could be that your mouth sprung open, not expecting to see him that abruptly and without giving yourself your planned thirty-second pep talk.

Your mind went blank. All you could do was stare at him like an idiot as he pointed across the hall and said, “Bridal suite’s that way.”

“Yeah, it was…”

“The Super Trouper? Groom’s choice.”

“Are you sure it wasn't yours?” The joke spilled out of your mouth, landing awkwardly to your own ears. But Jake smiled anyway, glancing down as he let the door close behind him. 

He rubbed the side of his freshly shaved cheek. “I’m headed down to the front desk, by the way. I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You deserved that. So instead of cringing down into the floor - which was what you really wanted to do - you took the hit and said, “I didn’t think you were.”

“About last night…”

“I’m sorry for flying off the handle. I’m just… a little stressed,” you cut him off. It was an understatement, and not totally honest, but it was the best you could do without getting into the embarrassing particulars.

From the groomsmen’s side, Britney Spears followed ABBA, singing, “Oops, I did it again,” which seemed perversely apropos and just another reminder that you were a puppet of fate. Presently, you had to be paying for God knows what sin - probably calling Mike a buttface all those years before.

“Hey, I get it. I wasn’t trying to be clingy,” Jake went on.

“You’re not! You’re a good friend… Thank you.”

It pained you to say it, but you figured now was as good a time as any to face facts: you only had a few more days together, and you didn't want to spend them all wasting what you had, wishing it would turn into something else. Friendship with Jake was good enough. He was kind and loyal and honest; hell, anyone would be lucky to have him in their corner.

Maybe what you needed was a little gratitude. It was a wedding day, after all. Your friends and family would all be gathering in a few hours to celebrate Christian and Amanda and they had chosen you to be a special part of their most important day. How cool was that?

“Can we just not talk about Mia and Josh today?” you asked, hefting the garment back up your shoulder. “I want to focus on Amanda and make sure she has a nice time at her wedding - get drunk but not sloppily so, take a few pictures, dance a bit, not feel like everyone’s waiting for the Jerry Springer shoe to drop?”

“We can do that,” Jake replied.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“See you on the other side?”

“You bet.”

He went down the hall, turning right and bounding the carpeted stairs. You watched him go with a sigh, deciding that it was hard to be a grown-up and lovelorn at the same time. The two things were so incompatible - liking someone, loving them even, felt utterly undignified.

Nonetheless, you could breathe a lot easier after clearing the air. With the apology out of the way, you threw yourself into full bridesmaid mode, squeezing into the cramped bathroom with five other women in customized robes who were curling, straightening, powdering, talking, fighting for counter space, gasping at gossip, and being an overall flurry of chaos while the bride reigned over all, putting in comments through the haze of hair- and setting spray.

The air in the room was joyous, with a smattering of nervous energy mostly provided by Amanda.

Once dressed in your different styles of champagne satin, the bridesmaids focused on making sure Amanda was ready for her starring role. You took turns doing up the buttons on the back of her wedding gown, and when Dinah popped in to give her a pair of diamond earrings she wore to her own wedding, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. “Do not let my mascara run!” Amanda urged, prompting Carrie, the maid of honor, to jokingly rush forward with a folded-up Kleenex and dab at her eyes.

The groomsmen left for the wedding venue first, piling into a shuttle after yelling well-wishes through the door. Fifteen minutes later you followed suit, with Ali O’Rourke pouring canned cocktails into plastic cups and filming the journey at the same time as her phone blasted Taylor Swift (“But none of the breakup songs!”). In twenty minutes you were at the botanical garden, arranging the first look through a comical series of shouts and mimes partially obscured by a tall bush and caught on camera by the couple’s videographer. Once Christian had gotten the memo to stand there, at the edge of an ornamental pond but with his back to the azaleas, you pushed Amanda in his direction and waved her on, giving whistles and catcalls when he dipped her into a kiss that was very un-Christian-like and all the more romantic for that reason.

Once the wedding party photos were done, it was time to head inside and wait for the guests to arrive. You found that, like Amanda, you were feeling a little jittery now that patience was all that was required. From the double doors to the altar, it was a fairly long walk and you were worried that your heels would sink into the grass or that you would fall flat on your face. Luckily, you weren’t the only one with that fear. Amanda’s coworker, Lucy, who had never been a bridesmaid before, had a minor freakout, and talking her down helped you allay your own fears, as did the liquid courage courtesy of Ali’s dress having pockets.

(Amanda: “I don’t remember reading that on the website.”

Ali: “That’s because you didn’t. I had it tailored.”)

At last, the wedding coordinator called for everyone to take their places and Jake came towards you, looking smart in his tux. At the rehearsal dinner you’d heard Mike asking, “So, where’s the dress uniform?”, to which Jake replied, “And upstage you?” Well, uniform or not, you were sure he could upstage anyone. To you, he was the handsomest person in the room, and you were in danger of saying so until Jake beat you to the punch.

“Look at you, you clean up well!” he remarked.

“And you look terrible.”

“Now I know that’s a bald-faced lie.”

You laughed. Humble as always. You were glad to see that all the awkwardness between you had gone, in no small part because of the excitement over the ceremony. A sudden hush came over everyone as Harriet signaled for the doors to be opened. Jake held out his arm. “Shall we?” he said, echoing his words when he asked you to dance.

This time you were ready for it. No matter what, in this particular moment, you and Jake were allies - wedding buddies, he said - and instead of overthinking things or making a mountain out of a molehill, you were resolved to enjoy it.

You took his arm and faced forward. The first strains of music began. Showtime, Harriet mouthed, while at the altar Christian turned to meet his bride.

-

The ceremony was over in the blink of an eye, followed by a drinks reception and a sit-down dinner punctuated by toasts that ranged from the humorous to the downright sentimental. Now that Amanda had clipped up her train, she seemed more relaxed than she had been in the morning, and it made you feel like you could let down your hair, so to speak, and enjoy the party underneath the light-strewn tent.

The guests were eager to dance. Without letup they moved through classic wedding standards and modern dance hits to country reels and the obligatory playing of “Mr. Brightside,” a moment which Sandy and Clyde stole with their enthusiastic head-bops. You couldn't remember the last time you danced, or laughed, half as much, and even the appearance of Josh and Mia couldn’t steal your good mood. As long as they kept to their side of the tent, you could pretend they weren't there and if Mom or Julie sidled up with a comment in defense of your honor, it was easy to point a finger to your ear as if to say, “What? I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

Jake kept close for the most of the night, leaning in close and making funny comments about the hidden goings-on - who was putting the moves on who, who was sneaking mini cupcakes into their purse, who got carted off to the indoor area after over-imbibing and nearly causing a minor dancefloor traffic incident.

Maybe it was all his Navy training, but for a guy’s guy Jake had an uncanny eye for gossip, and you said so, winning a laugh and another request for your oath of secrecy.

“I hate to tap out before Great-Aunt Sandy,” he said halfway through the Jailhouse Rock, “but do you want to take a breather? I feel like I’m getting a stitch in my side.”

“You? Sheesh, Hangman, you're really letting yourself go,” you chaffed. “What'll the higher-ups think when you get back to San Diego?”

“Well, if they really want to replace me, I’ll send them Aunt Sandy’s way.” He led you outside, where you promptly balanced one foot at a time trying to unclasp your heeled sandals while Jake watched, snorting before he took pity on you and let you lean on his arm.

His very muscled arm…

Inwardly, you sighed like one of the Bimbettes from Beauty and the Beast, but hey, you’d behaved yourself all day; you were allowed to have the occasional impure thought.

With a little sound of triumph, you managed to remove your shoes and held them by the straps, walking on the grass in your bare feet. You had a pair of flats in your purse, but that was somewhere inside and, anyway, the ground felt good against your tired arches. You’d been dancing for over two hours and needed the break.

“How do you even stand in those death traps?” Jake eyed your shoes as if they were hand grenades, which amused you to no end seeing as they’d cost you a small fortune precisely because they claimed to be comfortable.

“They’re not so bad,” you replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t need them if you weren’t so tall.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shrugged, keeping your face deliberately blank. “It’s a free country.”

“Wow…” Jake huffed through a laugh, “you are incapable of just being nice to me.”

“What, I am nice!”

“In a backhanded-compliment sort of way, sure.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Jake, you’re the biggest 10 at the wedding’?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but we’re getting warmer,” he said with a toothy grin, entering a path bordered by low hedges leading to the pond where the first look had taken place.

The lights from the wedding reception lit the way, along with the small solar-powered fixtures planted in the ground, but for the most part the darkness was a respite from the sights and sounds of the packed tent. In a way, it made it easier to talk to Jake, ignoring your history, feeling like a girl who’d been asked on a walk by someone who wanted to spend more time with her.

You laughed, leaning into the role of interested flatterer. You were walking backwards, even daring to place your hand on the front of Jake’s shirt, trusting him to lead the way and keep you from tripping into a bush. “You’re an incredible dancer,” you put in, going full Bimbette. You might have batted your eyelashes, and your voice took on the dreamy girlishness of Marilyn Monroe, which only gave Jake the giggles as he tried to maintain his yes, I am all the things composure. “You look as good in a tux as you do in your Navy uniform.”

“Both true.”

“You’re funny and smart, and soooo interesting.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You gasped, stopping in your tracks to place your hands on his cheeks. Jake was smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep his lips pressed together. “You’ve got a face like an Old Hollywood dreamboat.”

He nodded solemnly, the slight clearing of his throat the only indicator that he was on the verge of breaking character. “You’re not the first person to say that, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm, does that surprise you? Do you disagree?”

“Of course not, this is the Jake Seresin Appreciation Hour.” You draped your arms around his neck. Maybe it was the cocktails or the distant wedding music making you bold, but Jake didn't pull away and you were only pretending - at least, that was your justification when you felt the weight of his hands on your hips.

“Go on, then.”

“Your eyes are green.”

“Now you’re just stating facts.”

“Fine, but you’re being a very picky subject!”

“I’ll have you know,” he scoffed, “Jake Seresin Hour was not my idea. You don’t get to institute it and then complain when I point out your lazy reporting.”

Lazy reporting? You were ready to duke it out over that and he knew it, his eyes alight with the challenge, head cocked to see what you’d come up with next. Your back hit the trunk of a live oak and you felt the adrenaline in your veins mixing with the alcohol and a sheer attraction that wouldn't be kept at bay. You wondered briefly whether this was what flying was like - a full-bodied, present physicality, all instinct, every move stretched taut and your nerves like live wires.

Jake glanced at your mouth and it left you breathless. Little wonder, then, that the next words out of your mouth were half confession, half part of the game.

“There’s not a single person at this party who isn’t head-over-heels in love with you.”

“Not a single one?” Jake argued. “Not even the groom?”

“Not even the groom.”

“Well, obviously, we’re not including my relatives in that.”

“But everyone else…” you trailed off.

“Everyone else. Including you?”

“Especially me.”

It’s just a game, it’s just a game. The thought kept clashing in your head with the urge to say “kiss me” and he was standing so close, with his body half pressed against yours, solid and warm, realer than any lust-fueled fantasy you could’ve come up with in the dead of night, the party forgotten with him as your only view, and you kept thinking, Maybe he wants me to. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe I should do it - what would be the harm?

The answer to this final point was obvious, and yet he was hard to resist. His fingers brushed against your waist, the touch feather-light enough that it might have been in your imagination except for his forehead pressed down to yours, his heart beating steadily beneath your nervous hand.

Without debating it further you pulled him into a kiss, shutting your eyes against any possible consequences as you memorized the taste of his mouth, the weight of his hands sliding down your back, the heat of his breath. You pulled away, mortified by your lapse in judgment and the obvious proof of feelings which you now couldn't take back.

There was no undoing this, but still you tried.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I’m… I’m drunk… I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I’m… I’m gonna go.” You slid past him, holding your breath, willing him not to follow after you or try to stop you from fleeing. Your body felt like it was short-circuiting, blazing with need and then doused in icy-cold regret and horror at your own actions.

So he had flirted with you. That didn't mean he wanted to kiss you; it certainly didn't signal any romantic interest that merited you throwing yourself at him and telling him, of all things, that you loved him!

You went back to the party, picking your purse up from behind your chair and forcing a smile when people stopped you to chat, making excuses and saying you had to go to the bathroom. Inside, you moved past the lobby and straight out to the drive, where the hired shuttle service was taking guests in no state to drive to and from a few local hotels.

The driver asked if you were ready to leave and you said yes, feeling mildly guilty for staging an Irish goodbye, but there was no way you could go on pretending for the rest of the night, let alone face Jake. You prayed that everyone would be too busy having fun to notice your absence, and if not you would apologize profusely tomorrow at brunch, claiming a headache or exhaustion or anything else that might obscure your bad decision-making and propensity to lose your shit around Jake.

You were let onto the bus, the sole passenger as the driver turned on the engine and radioed his boss to say he was en route to the B&B. Just as you were relaxing into your seat, Jake came bounding up the steps, giving the driver a cursory nod just before the doors closed behind him and the vehicle began to move.

“Can we talk?” he asked, sliding next to you and dropping his jacket in his lap.

“There are, like, fifty open seats.”

“But you’re sitting in this one,” he said with the ghost of a grin. You would've rolled your eyes if you weren’t busy wishing you could teleport to literally anywhere else.

You faced forward to the other cars on the road, watching their taillights shine as you moved into nighttime traffic. “Can you do me a favor? I know you’ve done a lot of them over the past couple of days, but can you just forget that ever happened?”

“No.”

Aghast, you turned your head to see Jake looking maddeningly smug, not to mention relaxed, while he was invading your personal space and driving you to the brink of mental collapse.

“Why not?” you demanded.

“Why not? Because I don’t want to.”

“And is what I want—”

“Completely irrelevant,” he finished for you. “Besides, you kissed me, remember?”

“I don’t. I’ve wiped it from my memory chip.”

With a smile, Jake leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips that was almost chaste, except for the brush of his tongue against your lip and his fingers cupping your chin in a hold that was teasing and gentle, and undeniably thought-out.

“How about that one?” he asked, pulling away just enough to view your reaction.

“How about what?”

He grinned. “Cabbage.”

“Ew! Why would you call me that right now?” you exclaimed, scooching back into the window.

“Because you’re adorable. Beautiful.”

“Like a leafy green?”

“Yeah, like a whole salad.”

You laughed. “That makes no sense.”

“It really doesn’t.” But it did. Like so many other inside jokes, you knew exactly what he meant to say. It made you feel all warm inside, especially because there was no trace of subterfuge in his handsome face, and you knew he’d never be cruel enough to lead you on. He followed you, he thought you were beautiful, and he was here trying to convince you not to take the kiss back.

To be bold. To follow through.

“If you want to keep being friends…” he began.

“You and Mike are just friends, Jake. I’m the kid sister with a massively pathetic crush on you.”

“Maybe I have a crush on you too,” he said, looking you straight in the eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little… A lot, actually.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

In front of Pleasant View the driver pulled on the brakes, and Jake laced his fingers through yours as he dismounted and put a twenty in the tip jar, stopping in front of the entrance to face you with a question hanging, unspoken, in the air. If you let this opportunity pass you by, he would let you do it without a word, taking the gentleman’s way out and stopping his pursuit under the assumption that you had no interest in being with him, or in seeing where this new thing between you might go. But if you said yes…

The possibilities flashed through your mind, as frightening as they were wonderful. Everything might change. Everything would, there was no doubt about that. But change wasn’t always a bad thing, and if you had someone holding your hand along the way?

Wasn’t that what love was all about?

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Jake pointed out.

“Is that an issue?”

“Why, is it an issue for you?”

You shook your head, trying to contain the nervous joy in your chest. “Maybe you should take me flying sometime, teach me the ways of classic Hangman chill.”

“Just name the time and place,” he promised. “I’m ready when you are.”

Instead of second guessing, you took him at his word.

You reached up and kissed him fully on the mouth, sighing when he pressed you flush against his chest and carressed the nape of your neck. There was no predicting the future; that part would always be like navigating blind. But Jake was worth the risk. If nothing else, he was the sort of man who made you want to try, who took chances, and made you laugh through the terror of uncertainty.

In that moment, being lifted off the ground, physically swept off your feet by the man you’d loved since you’d first contemplated what love could be, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. And the best part? From the look on Jake’s face, you knew the exact thought running through his head:

Babe, the luck is all mine.

Man, you loved weddings.

[kqutie]

THE PRINCESS' SEVEN MERCENARIES

CHAPTER TWO : A FATEFUL MEETING

relations. : cevans various/reader -- steve rogers/reader ; curtis everett/reader ; ari levinson/reader ; lloyd hansen/reader ; andy barber/reader ; jake jensen/reader ; ransom drysdale/reader

chpt. sum. : your stepmother wants you dead but you're able to make a swift escape with the help of the huntsman who was meant to kill you. into the woods you go in search of a new and better life!

tags. : these men don't know what they're in for; lloyd and ransom don't trust you ; andy needs a hug ; disney princess reader ; snow white and the seven dwarves au ; fairy tale au ; fluff ; domestic fluff ; a/b/o universe but it's not the central point ; disney princess reader and her seven sexy mercenaries hehe~

length. : 4.4k

← one. a swift escape | navi. | series masterlist

“Even more peculiar,” Andy whispers as the group of four step into the front door of their quaint cottage, only to immediately smell the scent of a delicious meal saturating the air. The mercenaries were unaccustomed to their home having any form of ‘lived-in’ smell, owing to their packed schedules and demanding occupations. For the majority of their days, they were so preoccupied with their current assignment that they couldn’t even bask in the feeling of having an actual home for once. Hence, the fragrant aroma in the air was a pleasant surprise. 

“Smells good,” Curtis comments as Lloyd swiftly moves to the bottom of the stairs, ready to eliminate whoever intruded on his—their home!

“Let’s get this fucker already,” Lloyd snaps under his breath and takes the lead in the search upstairs. Behind him, Curtis nods back at Steve and Andy before splitting off silently by the staircase. 

There have been many ambushes on their group, in part, due to their line of work but Steve has never been so flummoxed by an ambush attempt before. Was it even an ambush? It was difficult to keep such an alert mindset when nothing seemed overly suspicious. There wasn’t any dubious tension in the air nor was there a haunting stillness about the environment, in fact—

“What’s that smell?” Steve questions, teetering on the boundary between alert and heedless. 

“The food?” Andy provides only to be met with a negative. 

“There’s something else in the air…”

Another curious silence is shared between the two mercenaries as they traverse their living space. From memory, due to the lack of lighting, they gather that they’ve made it halfway through the living room already yet nothing has happened. Disregarding their muted steps across the wooden floors, their subdued breaths and the rustling of their clothes, there’s simply nothing but stillness and peace in the air. 

“Nothin’ up here,” Lloyd’s voice suddenly buzzes through everyone’s earpiece and breaks the, somewhat, taut atmosphere. Both good news and bad news depending on who it was directed to, and whatever the hell was actually happening, “Curt and I are heading down now,”

“Conservatory’s clear, we’re moving to the kitchen,” Ari chimes in just as Steve and Andy pick up on mute footfalls making their way to the entrance of their cooking and dining area. The trio coming in from the garden entrance refrain from drawing attention to the peculiar sight of their clean laundry hanging from the washing lines. Even though it was bizarre, it remained a largely innocuous sight. 

“I’ve never heard of an intruder who does our laundry…” Ransom had commented as Ari and Jake hummed in agreement beside him. 

“Turned off the fire,” Jake helpfully inputs, indicating that his group have now entered the kitchen space. 

“So helpful, Jake,” Ransom sarcastically comments, the roll of his eyes obvious in his tone. 

“It could have been a bomb,” their technician argues back and barely resists the urge to raise his voice. 

“A bomb that smells like stew? That’s a first,”

Before Jake and Ransom begin a petty fight, Ari silences them both with a well-placed, cold stare. Usually a gentle giant, along with Curtis, it wasn’t common for Ari’s temper to make even a slight appearance, so whenever there was a small sign of it, everyone shut their mouths and righted themselves. It was difficult considering the majority collectively shared the same second gender (alpha) with Jake and Ransom being the only Betas, but that’s why they were in such high demand. The majority’s innate dominance and survival instincts worked in their favour. And, with Jake and Ransom to balance out the group as betas who dominated in their own separate skill sets, the group’s services only proved more favourable. Combined, they were a formidable force and in high demand. It was unfortunate that their main clients were very unsavoury characters. This more recent one was their only decent client so far.  

“So that’s what that peculiar smell is,” Steve comments, his shoulders lowering in disbelief and respite as he finally spots your bundled figure curled up on their living room sofa. Everyone’s attention is drawn to their captain, his comment and loosened tone steadily releasing the tension in his group mates’ taught figures. 

“An omega?” Andy affirms with slightly widened eyes, “What’s she doing here?” an omega with a high affinity for magic… Andy resumes the thought in his head, remembering Jake’s earlier analysis, and looks over at Steve, who shares his thoughts telepathically. 

Light from the kitchen drapes a warm glow over your bundled-up form as a nearby window shines moonlight across your delicate features – the only thing they’re able to see of you. Slowly, the group from the kitchen moved to stand in the archway through to the living room before splitting off to guard all exit points. No stranger was to be underestimated. With sharp eyes, they observe whatever little features they’re able to discern from their separate vantage points. Their curiosity slowly rises but with their trust in Steve, their captain, and the religious practice of their routine operations, they find it best to stay back and let those closest to you handle the upcoming confrontation.  

“What the fuck is this bitch doing in our house?” Lloyd materialises out of the darkness, his eyes and pinched expression indicating his rough intentions. The alpha doesn’t discriminate between male, female, non-binary, second gender presentation, age, social status, occupation or anything remotely indicative of an individual’s identity because he merely doesn’t care. If you’ve done anything to offend him, he’s not going to stand for it – he’ll beat you down until you’re eating dirt. 

“She’s small,” Curtis comments from behind his enraged mercenary partner. 

“I don’t care, she needs to go!” Lloyd reaches forward but his rough hands are pushed away by Andy, who effectively manipulates Lloyd back so that Steve can kneel by your head and shake you awake.  

A large hand shakes your shoulder and forces you into gradual consciousness. For a moment, you rub your eyes and grumble tiredly before your current situation finally dawns on you and a gasp escapes your lips. Suddenly alert, you sit up and lock gazes with a beautiful blue set. However, you quickly realise that this handsome, clean-shaven blonde with the ocean in his eyes wasn’t the only one present in the room. Your eyes connect with six other figures scattered about the space, who are openly observing your figure as well. 

All the attention makes a heat rise in your neck as your heart begins to race. All of them were handsome in their own way and stood a great deal taller than you, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, slim waists and thick thighs. You can’t believe men like this actually existed. Not even the knights patrolling the perimeter of the castle stacked up to the select few before you.

You finally look back at the blonde man in front of you, who has no space to say anything when you hurriedly blurt out your well-rehearsed, opening speech, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” the blonde waits for you to continue, no longer appearing to want to say anything and allowing you to finish speaking, “I just really needed a place to stay and, perhaps, some directions to the nearest village tomorrow?” behind him, his friends look towards one another, silently conversing about the situation, “I-I promise I won’t stay long…a-and as an apology, I made you dinner?” your words rang with uncertainty. Biting down on your bottom lip was evidence enough of your anxiety. No intruder with the intent to kill would look so anxious over such a demure request. 

But it could all be an act…

“Well, I suppose we can accommodate you for the night,” Steve concludes with a soft smile as Lloyd’s complaints get muffled by Curtis’ large hand. He didn’t want to alert you of their operations, so it’s best to appear like a normal group of men living together peacefully in the forest, “but I’m afraid we don’t have an extra room upstairs so you’ll have to make do with the sofa…” Steve isn’t usually one to lose focus but finds his thoughts slowly straying the longer he looks into your eyes and observes the sparkling delight shining in them. His mention of allowing you to stay only seemed to make them dazzle more. 

“Oh! It’s no trouble! Your sofa is very comfortable,” you chirp so innocently and happily that every man in the room gapes in awe of you. Lloyd is about to scoff at your aggregability but is cut off when you quickly hop onto your feet and rush into the kitchen, effectively interrupting his big, petulant display of displeasure. “It seems like you’ve all had a long day so you must be hungry, let me serve you dinner,” they watch as you pull a sheepish expression when approaching the stove, “I hope you don’t mind that I used your kitchen and your food to cook,”

If you’re telling the truth it should bode well for them. Steve nods singularly at Curtis who immediately looks into their food storage to see if there’s anything missing. When Curtis can confirm that there was produce missing, he returns Steve’s silent nod. This was a good sign, although it doesn’t fully absolve you from a poisoning attempt — it would be even more suspicious if you used your own ingredients and feigned goodwill with the excuse of not wanting to ‘steal’ from their food storage.   

“As long as we finally get to have a warm meal at home, you can cook up everything in our pantry,” Jake grins boyishly, which Steve mentally thanks him for. Trust Jake to break the ice and avoid any awkwardness with his saccharine charisma. The paramour of the group on missions is usually Ransom but that’s for missions only — for instances like this that are off-duty and could likely lead to awkward interplay, Jake has just the right charm to keep things going in a good direction. Their magi-tech genius sometimes goes so far as to take the awkwardness on for himself and draw attention away from the rest of the group – it’s come in handy multiple times but Steve doesn’t believe Jake sees this quality for what is. Ransom certainly does and takes full advantage of occasionally recruiting Jake for some of his machiavellian assignments. 

As you potter about the kitchen space, the men take up their assigned seats at the long dining table. There was enough space for everyone, even you. As the captain, Steve naturally takes up the head of the table, leaving the only remaining chair at the other end of the table. Across each other, the mercenaries meet eyes, silently conversing and trying to convey their opinions of you. They’ve been a group for so long that it’s not hard to observe everyone’s standing. Jake doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, he’s pleasantly surprised and happily accepts the circumstance. Steve, Andy, Curtis and Ari remain nonchalant about the situation, their feelings never really tipping to one side. Lloyd remains visibly irate whilst Ransom appears to have calmed down a bit, however, a disgruntled arch remains on his lips. 

Steve can tell that everyone’s exhausted. Even Lloyd. Their days are often very taxing so it’s hard to cook a warm meal when they get home. Ari and Andy are the only decent cooks among them but, by the time they make it back to the cottage, sometimes separately, they don’t have the energy to do anything else other than converse about tomorrow’s steps forward. Every night ends with getting to sleep on unsatisfied stomachs and lingering displeasures, only to wake up the following day and do it again. This is all they know and it’s hard to break the routine. Everyone’s accustomed to finally letting their guard down as soon as they get back home atop the exhaustion; they can’t find it in themselves to openly protest or question their pretty, graceful little intruder like they know they should. 

“Let me heat up the bread rolls for a bit,” you pipe up softly, turning to the group with a warm smile, “but that gives you all just enough time to wash up,” they blink in surprise before most nod and oblige. Lloyd stubbornly stays in place and when Andy arches a brow at him, a silent question, Lloyd gives a short, snappy answer. 

“She can’t be trusted. I’m staying right here. I’ll go when someone else comes back and can keep an eye on her too,” 

Andy gives an understanding nod but doesn’t move to follow everyone else to their upstairs washrooms. When you look upon the two with curious eyes and an adorable (though Lloyd would never admit it) tilt to your head, Andy offers a reassuring smile.         

“There isn’t enough space in the washroom upstairs for all of us to go at once so Lloyd and I will stay here and wait our turn,”

Accepting the explanation you return your attention to the bread rolls. Placing a damp but clean towel over the array, you open the oven and bend down to put the tray inside. Andy has the decency to avert his eyes but not Lloyd. He eyes your bent-over form with a snarl, determined not to fall for your innocent endearingness, clothed in a plain but complementary dress, covered by a cosy, cable-knit cardigan. You’re not cute or pretty or worth his attention — he isn’t a dunce and he won’t make a fool of himself over some woman.  He’s seen this show and dance before, the innocent, damsel-in-distress omega that needs help from an alpha. It’s such a cliche display, Lloyd can’t believe he hasn’t openly disparaged your antics yet. 

Andy, on the other hand, finds himself wishing for something like this to become more commonplace. It’s a blissful dream he cherishes – to be able to have a love that he can come home to after a hard day’s work and be spoiled by domestic bliss. Someone to bring flowers to, someone to work hard for, someone to look forward to seeing at the end of each and every day. Seeing you glide through the kitchen with the skirt of your dress billowing behind you makes him want to sigh in contentedness and dismay all at the same time. He knows he isn’t the only one out of their group who wishes for stability and an easy life like this. It’s impossible for them to even dream of this simple joy. But getting a small glimpse of this domestic life brings about an urge in Andy. It makes him want to push and fight to attain such candid happiness – something that feels easy and euphoric, his own paradise on earth, shared with someone special. 

“That’s your name?” you ask innocently, placing a large underplate beside the vase of flowers at the dining table before moving to retrieve a cloth for transferring the stew.

“Yeah, Lloyd Hansen,” the grump confirms. 

“Hansen?” Lloyd tenses at your piqued interest. He remains taut when you turn around with your ever-present, warm smile, carefully lifting the crockpot of stew over to the table. 

“What about it?” Lloyd snaps defensively, ignoring the warning clench of Andy’s fingers over the slope of his shoulder. 

“I just knew a very kind man named Hansen,” you sheepishly admit, hurrying to gloss over the topic at the sight of Lloyd’s inquisitive brow raise. Introducing yourself simply, you then turn your attention to Andy, who also introduces himself in return. 

“My name is Andrew, Andrew Barber, but everyone just calls me Andy,” 

Lloyd snarls when you lie about it being a pleasure to meet them but is swept away when Andy roughly pulls out of his chair. The others had begun to filter back into the dining room. It was the pair’s turn to wash up and head upstairs as they distantly heard you introduce yourself to the rest of the group behind them. 

“Let me help you with that,” Ari helpfully sets the table with you as the others take their seats once more and introduce themselves one by one. The bearded, giant of a man smiles faintly when you thank him for his assistance, finding that he rather enjoys seeing your smile and prettily beaming eyes directed at him — even if it’s just for a second or two. “I’m Ari, by the way,” You smile at how lovely his name sounds and freely tell him so. He seemed shocked at your vivacious demeanour but doesn’t comment on it, happy to indulge in your refreshing mannerisms. 

Steve was the clean-shaven blonde that sat at the head of the table; you assume he’s the big man in charge despite his much gentler appearance compared to some of the other characters sitting about the table. Curtis is the gruff-looking one who politely takes off a woollen cap to reveal his buzzed hair; you gauge that he’s the silent, observant type. Ransom is unlike the others in his fashion, dressed in a comfy, cable knit sweater; he looked approachable but there was something about him that made you second guess yourself. You don’t quite know how to feel about that. Lastly, there was Jake who grins freely and seems a little more energetic than the others around him. His good mood is contagious and helps you feel at ease.   

Everyone watches as you take out the bread rolls and go about the table, carefully placing a roll on their side plates, your smile never dropping. The rest were placed in a basket at the table within everyone’s reach. Plenty were left so you reassured them that they could grab another if they were feeling extra peckish. 

“Thank you,” Steve voices sincerely as everyone eyes the delicious meal laid out before them. One by one, they had begun serving themselves a portion of the beef stew you had thoughtfully prepared. It was all from the same pot so they plan on waiting for you to take the first bite, avoiding a sly poisoning attempt. “It’s been far too long since we’ve had a warm meal to come home to,”

“It’s really no trouble,” you smile down at your lap, taking a seat at the other end of the table, “it’s the least I can do for your kindness in letting me stay the night despite being a complete stranger,” 

Everyone observes your words and actions with great care. They have an eye for deceit; Ransom has taught them all about the common tricks he plays to earn the trust of those they need to fool on missions, however, nothing about your actions so far appear fraudulent to them. It was strange. Perhaps it’s because they’re trained to think this way that they have such lingering doubts about your innocence. 

It isn’t long until Andy and Lloyd return to the table and fill their bowls too. “Apologises for the delay,” Andy is the only one with the decency to express his regret, Lloyd simply grumbles under his breath. 

You don’t seem to catch on to their plot of watching you take the first bite and wait for any adverse side effects to occur before they can deem the food safe enough to consume themselves. Thankfully, you taste the bread roll and stew all at once, dipping a piece of the roll in the stew to taste together. That’s all they needed and finally allowed themselves to savour the bliss of having a homecooked meal after a long, hard day of work. 

Lloyd hates to admit it but he appreciates the hearty dinner. It’s an indulgence he happily dismisses his earlier wariness for, wanting to enjoy the meal to the fullest. He can get back to being bitter about the situation and you, later. Curtis manages to smile modestly at the warmth the stew fills him from within. It’s been so long since they’ve indulged in such an innocent, domestic pleasure. Perhaps you were a blessing in disguise, put there to quench their deprived existence. Andy, again is given a soothing balm to soothe one of his deepest desires – a happy home. He finds he’s unable to look up and face you, knowing that his expression will leave him and his yearning vulnerable to everyone’s criticisms. Jake and Ransom meet eyes across the table and grin at each other. As the only two betas, they have a more intimate kinship between them and both can tell that the other is incredibly satisfied with the situation. Yes, they have petty fights but they agree on a lot of things too, this tasty meal being one of those things. It didn’t start off ideal but this was a repose everyone had been craving. And they were more than eager to indulge in the moment too. 

Steve observes everyone at the table with Ari. They understand that the type of occupation they have aligns with a lifestyle that typically doesn’t have this type of scenario playing at the end of every day. This is surely something they would cherish for a long time. As time passes, they slowly realise how misplaced their judgement and wariness were. Finally, they can relieve themselves of that burden and fully enjoy the rare evening.     

Slowly regaining their strength throughout the meal, everyone settles down and begins to ease up for the night. The chatter fluctuates, sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it’s quiet but everyone goes for seconds and thirds before you can even get through half of your plate. 

“So how did you get here?” Trust Jake to ruin the mood in such a way. It’s the obvious question on everyone’s minds and was asked it in the most innocuous tone possible, only to be met by the most awkward silence to ever fall over the group as everyone turns their focus on you.  

You contemplated telling them the truth or not. These men deserved your honesty but you don’t know if it would result in further danger, your stepmother had a lot of magical artefacts nobody knew about; you can’t make careless decisions. And you weren’t about to risk yourself or these kind men’s safety so you go for something in between — a half-truth, “...I ran away”

“From what?” Ransom demands in an almost threatening tone. He’s back on the defensive, along with Lloyd, the two of them eyeing your shrinking form disparagingly. Jake, seeing the reaction of his teammates, feels immense guilt for having put you in a difficult situation and looks to the only person he trusts to placate the tension, Steve.  

“Calm down, Ran,” Steve sends him a warning glare despite his level voice. 

“No, I think he has a point and if she’s going to stay the night then I think we’re owed an explanation,” Lloyd’s eyes don’t leave you, his gaze fixed, cold and untrusting. 

“I uhh…” you begin to get nervous. You don’t want to reveal that you’re the princess but you’re feeling the pressure from all the attention atop Lloyd and Ransom’s demands. Everyone can see that you’re fighting with yourself and expect you to finally confess to something. However, rather than reveal the truth or lie further, you go for the third option, “…I-I think I should just go…” with a weak smile, you get up from the table — free to do so without protest as the mercenaries are either shocked or vehemently glaring at Lloyd and Ransom. 

Your bowl of beef stew is only half eaten and your bread roll has a few bites left in it. Nobody can meet your eyes as you hurriedly cross the dining room to the living space with your head down and take back your basket from behind the sofa you fell asleep on. You don’t bother with collecting the perishable foods you had stashed in their cool storage, thinking it a lost cause. For the final time, you look at them through the large archway connecting the living space and dining area, “I’m so sorry for the intrusion but thank you for letting me stay this long. Please enjoy the rest of the food. I umm… I baked some banana bread and made whipped cream to have with for dessert,” you’re about to turn and leave, bidding them farewell when you’re stopped by a mountain — Curtis stands in your path, blocking your escape 

“They’re being pricks so their opinions don’t matter,” his voice is much more gentle than you imagined, “you can stay,” the bearish man takes advantage of your hesitation and leads you back to your seat with a large hand on your lower back. He pulls the chair out for you and tucks it back in as you sit down again. You can’t meet anyone’s eyes, the tension in the air, still too high.

“You can stay regardless of whether you tell us your reasoning or not,” Steve voices, meeting your gaze kindly when you snap your head up in surprise. It’s obvious to all parties (except for Lloyd and Ransom) know that you don’t mean them any harm so they’re happy to let the incident pass and offer up their home. It isn’t even their permanent residence, only the one given to them by their employer on the conditions of their year contract. 

“Ransom and Lloyd are a little possessive but their rough edges aren’t very dangerous,” Ari offers, the insight on the two characters no longer seems necessary after the interactions you’ve had with them. However, it was reassuring for it to be said aloud by someone, “Just ignore them, we all do” his kind smile beneath his thick beard urges you to offer a hesitant one in return.    

Ransom eyes Andy who doesn’t acknowledge his obvious glare. As the negotiator of the group, Andy was well-equipped with the skills to weasel some admittance from you but he clearly has no interest in getting any sort of information. Andy remains a silent observer. He’s aware of Ransom’s dismay but doesn’t acknowledge him, making the man’s stare turn icy. Too righteous Ransom scoffs in his head. Everyone knows about each other’s past. Clearly, Andy was still especially soft around women, those who were gentle and kind, the homey type, omegas especially. You were the perfect image of that so there’s no hope of Ransom ever getting Andy to do anything. 

Great, just great, the pathetic, sappy asshole. Lloyd grumbles internally, he was a witness to the silent interaction between Ransom and Andy, and had arrived to the same conclusion. Their negotiator isn’t budging. The only person able to influence Andy would be Steve but you have their captain wrapped around your little finger too. Hopeless! The lot of them!  

navi. | series masterlist | three. a different morning →

a/n : how did you like the chapter? what did you think of our boys? this is my side account so i don't know how updates are going to be like but i hope you enjoy the series so far! more fluff to come soon!

taglist : @imyourbratzdoll

p.s : i have a queen in my taglist…the literal writer who inspired this series the most is on my taglist!!!!! MAMA IM FAMOUS!

[zmayadw]

|| I WILL FIND YOU ||

Duskwood (meets) Moonvale Oneshot

WARNINGS : contains Moonvale episode 1 spoilers

CHARACTERS: mostly Alan Bloomgate and Jake, with mentions of Richy and Mc ofc 😊

A/N: Hello, hello! 😊 Uhm, well, I kinda wrote something that got inspired with the (very) end of Moonvale 🤭 So here, have my first Duskwood meets Moonvale oneshot! Hope you'll find it likeable! 💚 Oh, and please, don't mind any mistakes you might stumble upon, it's 2am here, and I'm barely keeping my eyes open 😅

The hell with the FBI!

Alan curse inside for the umpteenth time already, as he slowly and carefuly searched through the Duskwood forest. He was the bloody Chief of Duskwood's police, and the moment the FBI showed, they treated him as some kind of rookie?? Outrageous!

He was actually grateful to be alone right now, because if that arogant FBI's agent in charge once more addressed him with such undermining tone, he would punch him right in the face with all he got!

He stops for a short moment and takes a deep breath to calm his raging nerves. Continuing on, his thoughts began to wander back to all that happened ever since he managed to finally get in touch with Mc.

Could the outcome of this all be any different if he only listened to her, like REALLY listened, from the start?

Would he be able to stop the explosion that happened in the mine, and not wander around feeling guilty and responsible for the most probable demise of young Mr. Rogers? If only he trusted that little voice at the back of his mind just a bit more...

His train of thoughts suddenly gets interrupted by a rustling coming from a close vicinity.

"Who's there?" his voice comes out firm as he turns toward the source of the sound, his flashlight and gun pointed steadily in the same direction.

He waited for a moment, and when there was no response he tries again.

"My name is Alan Bloomgate, Duskwood's Chief of Police. I'm armed, so I suggest you come out, slowly, and show yourself."

"Don't shoot, I'm unarmed."

A short heartbeat later he grips his gun tighter as rustling comes once again from behind a tree a few feet away from him.

Alan watch as a young dark haired man slowly appears from behind the tree, and from the way the man moved, he immediately knew he wasn't alone either.

"Please, he needs help."

Alan stood still in his spot, closely paying attention to every move the dark haired man did. But when he finally looked at the other person, his eyes open wide.

"My god, Richy Rogers!"

Unable to keep both of them on their feet, the dark haired man collaps to the ground, Alan instantly movig towards them, putting his gun away.

"Is he all right?" he drops to his knees next to Richy, quickly putting his fingers on his neck to feel his pulse.

"I- I don't know." dark haired man replies, Alan detecting discomfort in his voice.

He turns his gaze to him, his expert eyes noticing right away some bloody stains all over his hoodie, which looked pretty torn on some places, too.

'And you? Are you all right?"

The black haired just nods before Alan speaks again "Mind telling me how you got out of the mine?

The young man tried to hide the surprise from his face at his question, Alan smirking in response "No need to act so surprised. After all, I have a pretty good guess who you are."

He could notice the young man tensing so he quickly speaks "Also, you do not have to worry - your seizing isn't at the top of my list right now." He turns his attention back to Richy "But helping him is - his pulse is very weak"

He starts to get back up, lifting Richy along in his arms. "So, if I were you, I would start moving in that direction."

"Wait!" the dark haired man calls confused afer Alan, who already started to walk from him in the opposite way "Why are you doing this? Letting me go - the FBI won't go easy on you for it."

"Screw the FBI!" Alan yells over his shoulder, but then stops and turns back "But if you must know, I owe it to someone - and that someone happens to be very fond of you."

The young man breaths in astonishing making Alan chuckle. But his face turns back serious again "But also, firstly and mostly, I am a police officer. So go now, use this leverage as best as you can. Because our next encounter won't be this pleasant."

The young man stare silently as Chief Alan turns and continue on his way. And even though he was tired and in a lot of pain, a smile crawled on his face as he watched Alan vanish among the dark of a forest "There won't be next encounter."

4 WEEKS LATER

Jake's eyes jumped all around the screen in front of him. His fingers were flying hastily over the numbers and letters on his keyboard. He wanted to do this as fast as possible. It already passed too much time before he managed to recover and acquire new equipment. And he also did not want to spend another second with the thought how Mc must be worried about him, not knowing if he's even alive.

And that thought pained him intolerably.

So he begin to type even faster, and not a minute later he leans back in his chair, waiting eagerly for confirmation tha she accepts the message he just sent her.

He didn't have to wait long for the sound alerting him of her acceptance, his hand lifting and hitting the enter key on his keyboard ao fast and hard, it was a miracle it didn't break.

With longing, he imagined her surprised face as she watched how Alan found his things in the forest, wishing that he could tell her in person that he is alive and well.

But just like that, that longing dispersed, and his face beamed with a smile, just like the one he knew for sure she has on her beautiful face right now, as his message came to its end and the image appeared on the screen:

A/N: I'm sorry, but I just had to use this picture! 🥺🥺😭😭💚💚

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (17)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Jake Jensen

Warnings: established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, fluff, implied needy reader and Bucky, candy theft, polyamory

Indecent Proposal (16)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

Two months after Bucky and Steve found out about Rumlow’s plan to get information about them using the nurse, said man disappeared.  

No one cared about Brock Rumlow's disappearance. One day, he left town and never got seen again.

People may think Steve and Bucky took care of the annoying thorn in their flesh, but the truth is that they didn’t touch one hair on his head.

“Still nothing?” Bucky watches Natasha stuff the money he brought to her into her bag. Another good investment for the mobster, money for her retirement to Natasha. “Be honest, Nat. Did you take care of him?”

“I told Rumlow that his little stunt with the nurse went too far. He had the order to stay away from your…” she wrinkles her forehead still not understanding your relationship with the mobsters. “Fiancé.”

“We didn’t kill him,” Steve pushes off the wall to look at the pictures on Natasha’s desk. “Even though, we planned on taking him down. Rumlow had it coming.”

Natasha frowns deeply. “If none of us took him down… What happened to him? This doesn’t make sense at all.”

“What if he fucked with the wrong people over?” Bucky scratches his scruffy chin, wondering if the man obsessed with him and Steve annoyed the wrong person. “We can’t be the only people he messed with.”

“I don’t know,” Natasha sighs and rubs her tired eyes. “He’s a good cop.” She rolls her eyes when Steve makes a retching noise. “Believe it or not, he’s not a complete psycho. Rumlow is good at his job. I don’t know what you did to make him lose his mind.”

“We did shit to your little buddy,” Steve grunts. “If someone made him disappear, I owe him one. This way, I didn’t have to get my hands dirty.”

“This must be very funny to you, Rogers,” Natasha wrinkles her nose. “He was a good man and a good cop. It’s too bad he got lost in your web.”

“We didn’t lure him in,” Bucky snaps at Natasha. He glares at her, making sure she knows they did come here to chat. “One day your friend decided he must bring me and Steve down. Does he even know that we maintain peace? No one dares to harm citizens since we took over the throne.”

“I get it,” she huffs. “You are the kings of your kingdom of shit.”

“Careful—” Steve snarls at the redhead. “Our fathers build this kingdom with blood and terror,” the blonde steps closer to Natasha, sizing her up. “Bucky and I changed the old ways. We took their empire and changed it for the better.”

“What do we do about Rumlow now? If he’s dead, people will start asking questions. It’s no secret that he was obsessed with us.”

“I will try to keep you out of this,” Natasha steps away from Steve. She doesn’t want to rile him up even more. 

“You’ll keep us up to date,” Steve points his index finger at the redhead. “We need to know every detail of his disappearance…”

“Doll, what are you doing,” Steve laughs. You threatened to cut Bucky’s cock off because he dared to steal a chocolate bar from your secret stash. 

“He stole from me!” You pout. “Bucky stole my favorite chocolate bar. It was the last one with hazelnut.” Faking a sob, you look at Steve. “You should scold him.”

“I was hungry after you wanted a taste of Bucky,” the brunette grins. “And you got a whole drawer filled with the sweets. Candies, chocolate bars, all the good stuff. Steve, she’s got a sweet tooth.”

“Not only a sweet tooth,” Steve smirks. “She’s a naughty little minx too.”

“Hey! I’m not little,” you kneel on the bed to glare at Steve. Not months ago, you trembled in fear in front of Steve, and now you talk back and tease the mobster. “You better watch your tongue, or I won’t show you the latest ultrasound picture!”

Bucky watches you and his husband bicker. He smirks and chuckles. The brunette leans back and enjoys the show. “Steve, she’s getting cocky. What will you do about it?”

Steve cocks a brow. His features darken and he smirks at you. “I will spank her cute ass if she gets even cockier.”

You laugh at Steve’s words. He wouldn’t dare put his hands on you. Both men are deadly and strong, but with you, they are soft and gentle. Even if you are a brat and a needy slut sometimes.

“The doctor will be here in half an hour,” Bucky stretches his legs and yawns. It was a long day. Jensen and Bucky tried to find out more about Rumlow’s disappearance over the last hours. “Let’s not fight over stolen candy.”

“I did not forget you stole from my stash, punk!” You poke your index finger into Bucky’s thigh. “You are on thin ice, Sir.”

“Sir, huh?” Bucky licks his lips. “Steve, how long until the doctor arrives.” He looks at his husband.

“Buck. No,” Steve shakes his head. “Last time the doctor almost caught us red-handed.”

“Hmmm…good times,” you nod and sigh dreamily. “Very good times.”

“Your fiancé is healthy,” the doctor murmurs while scribbling down a few notes, “everything looks good. There is nothing to be worried about.” He looks up from his notes. “We should talk about the results of the ultrasound we took today now.”

He clears his throat and looks at you. The elderly man gives you a soft smile. “Can I tell them?”

The doctor chuckles now. “Of course, my dear.”

“Alright,” you clap your hands before grinning at Steve. “I will blow your mind.”

“Please tell me she’s not pregnant with a Tasmanian devil,” Steve mirrors your smirk. “I bet she is. It would explain her bratty behavior.”

“Stevie, let Y/N talk. I wanna know what she wants to talk about,” Bucky grabs your hand. Anytime you have an ultrasound examination he turns into a softie. “Go ahead doll. We are listening.”

You take a deep breath. Suddenly you’re a little nervous. “I-doctor can you tell them?” You chicken out and drop your gaze.

“Fuck! Is something wrong with the baby?” Steve presses one hand to his heart. “Please tell us.”

“Doll…” Bucky holds your hand a little tighter. The usual tough man looks helplessly at his husband. “Stevie?”

“The baby and your fiancé are healthy,” the doctor hastily says. “We got no bad news for you. It’s rather, good news for you and your fiancé, gentlemen.”

“Good news,” Bucky nods at Steve. “Did you hear…good news. Phew.” He sighs deeply. “Thank fuck.”

“What is the good news?” Steve rumbles. He stares at your swollen belly, awaiting an answer. “Doctor?”

You take a deep breath and look at both men. You don’t know if the news is good to them or not. “We—we are having twins!”

Part 17.2

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Secret Santa

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: secret santa but somehow nobody picked me

A/N2: I hope you don't mind, I'm kinda gonna cheat again because I really like doing the full cast of characters in the same prompt. But I'm going to cheat even further by going with "Each of the Tech Tuesday cast as your Secret Santa".

Bucky Barnes

Bucky is far more observant than people think. You might think he's the type to get you a random gift from the thrift shop but no. He gets you something he knows you'll like. Something that requires thought.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Curtis Everett

Gift cards are Curtis's go-to for these things. He already knows more about the people in the department than he cares to know. If he's got your name for Secret Santa, you're getting a gift card to a popular place. If he knows anything about you, you're getting a gift card for a place you've mentioned.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Geralt (of Rivia)

Bemoans the fact that Secret Santa even exists. He only participates because he knows it's important to others. He doesn't bother looking at the price cap because whatever he gets you is going to be something he made himself. Most likely something small you can use as decoration. Curtis still has the kikimora figurine on his desk.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

God (the bounty hunter)

Also hates the fact that this is something that happens. But where Geralt makes his gift, God goes ahead and buys you something he likes. Complete with a gift receipt.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Jake Jensen

Let's face it, it's Sunshine who's making you whatever gift Jake gets you. But neither you nor Sunshine are gonna complain. Jake's the one everyone wants as their Secret Santa because you'll get some really amazing homemade thing(s).

One year Steve got a few dozen Christmas cookies. He promised himself he'd just eat one or two and share the rest. He'd eaten over half of them by the time he left for home!

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Johnny Storm

Johnny definitely got a last minute big bag of candy for you. And, really, he got it for himself since he knows you keep a bag of that exact candy to bribe him to leave you alone when he gets to talking.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Jonathan Pine

Honestly, he might be the reason there's a price cap on the gifts. It's not that he'd buy a lot of things for you, rather he'd find one item, that would be an incredibly great gift, and not even look at the cost. It's not that he's rich, per say. He just takes his gift giving a little seriously and wants to put the recipient ahead of the price. Also, do him a favor and help make sure Rose doesn't see how much he spent on her?

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Lloyd Hansen

He ain't doing this bullshit game. It's for small-minded peons who---wait? Maestro wants him to partake? UGH! FINE! But she owes him.

Most likely to gift you something that just takes up space. Like a paperweight that caught his eye.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Mike

He's getting you swag from his college (that he gets for free). In his defense, he's a college student. In your defense, his family is rich. Really he's about as bad as Johnny.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Ransom Drysdale

Before Bubbles came along, Ransom was a lot like Curtis in terms of gift giving. You get a gift card to place you maybe like.

After he and Bubbles become friends, though, he asks for her help in getting something. He regrets it soon after because he's inundated with questions about his recipient that he doesn't have answers to. He didn't realize how much thought could go into gift giving. But, with Bubbles' help, you'll get a good gift.

And now Ransom knows how to get Bubbles a good gift.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Steve Rogers

You're getting something handmade. Probably a small painting of something you like. Not a lot of people know Steve's got skills with physical media and he's happy to surprise them. Syverson still has the portrait of Lily hanging in his office.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Syverson

Like Bucky, Syverson is a better gift giver than people think. There's a reason he's such a good manager for his department. He knows what his people like, dislike, or need in order to get their work done. It might more on the practical side of things, but it'll be something you actually like and use.

🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️🎁❄️

Walter Marshall

He's very much another "gift cards" kind of guy. The primary difference between him and Curtis is that Walter prefers to get you a card from a local business as opposed to a national/international corporation.

He actually prefers to get Bucky's name because he knows the coffee shop Bucky frequents is nearby and he can grab the gift card on his way into work.

Tagging:

@alicedopey; @changenameno; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kingliam2019; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare; @thiquefunlover63

[rebuke-me]

18 + dorky upstage sorry i miss them so bad

18. things you said when you were scared

Bringing his two jumpy partners to a haunted house had not been Jake's brightest idea. Honestly, he thought they'd have fun- it was like the RenFaire they'd taken him to, right? Just with scarier makeup and less thees and thous. And Jeremy liked scary movies, so it'd be fine.

At least, he'd assumed so, until he had Jeremy nearly crushing his hand, and Christine grabbing his arm as they headed through the maze of corridors.

"Jake. If we get out of this alive, I am never letting you pick the dinner on date night ever again," Christine said, her hand tugging him closer.

"It's just actors, right? It's not real, so-" Jeremy started, before a massive zombie leaped out from behind the corner, and all hell broke loose.

Christine's hand left his arm, which was the first red flag. Jeremy gripped his hand even tighter. And then Christine had punched the poor actor on the shoulder, sending him stumbling and making him break character.

"Ow, holy fuck-" The guy said, his zombie groan turning into a completely normal voice.

"What- oh my god, I'm so sorry." Christine said, and Jake felt the urge to apologize, which meant that Jeremy was also apologizing. They chorused 'sorry' like the damn seagulls from Finding Nemo.

"No, it's fine, I'm used to it-" The zombie muttered, rolling his shoulder. If only Christine had punched the other side of him, where the arm was clearly fake.

"We can- we can, like, I dunno, pay you, or- are you going to sue us?" Jeremy's voice was still shaking. "We don't have lawyers-"

"Dude, no, just- don't tell my boss I broke character, I am so fired if he finds out. Just, y'know, scream on your way out of this room like I chased you out or something?"

Jake flashed him a thumbs up. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, cool, thanks, sorry about that."

Christine straightened, still looking embarrassed. "I can totally scream really well. I was Mrs. Rogers in And Then There Were None when I was 13, I've got that horror movie scream down."

Jake grabbed Christine's hand, squeezing it. "You'll have to teach me when we're out of here."

Christine grinned. "How to scream like a girl in a horror movie? Got it."

And that is exactly what she did. Jeremy's scream was possibly a little not-faked, but Jake's was lackluster.

When they finally stumbled out the other end, with no injuries to them or the other actors, they were too busy laughing to be afraid.

[we-do-bones-bracket]

Who did bones the best?

here are the finalized brackets! the tournament will be split into two brackets. the finalists of both will go up against each other to determine the winner. characters who were the most popular during submissions will join in round 2

rules & guidelines

about spoilers

matches under cut!

Abraham "Brom Bones" van Brunt (Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story) vs. Skull (One Piece)

Laudna (Critical Role) vs. Sese Kitsugai (Len'en Project)

Benny (Halloweentown) vs. Enki Ankarian (Fear & Hunger)

Stalhorse (The Legend of Zelda) vs. Skeleton Horse (Minecraft)

Skeleton Mob (Minecraft) vs. Stallord (The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess)

Ryuk (Death Note) vs. Sam Day Break (Paradise Killer)

Adalman (That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime) vs. Hero's Shade/Hero's Spirit (The Legend of Zelda)

Sir Daniel Fortesque (MediEvil) vs. Skeletor (He-Man)

The Forgotten (Binding of Isaac) vs. Countess Ariadne de Winter (Til Death Do Us Bard)

Kel'thuzad (Warcraft) vs. Christopher Flores (Wayward Children)

The Lich King/Arthas Menethil (Warcraft) vs. Bones (Johannes Cabal the Necromancer)

Toro Muerto (The Book of Life) vs. Yodomi Arakawa (Skeleton Double)

Immortan Joe (Mad Max Fury Road) vs. Laika (Laika: Aged Through Blood)

Clinkz (DOTA 2) vs. Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck (Bleach)

Ianthe Tridantarius (The Locked Tomb) vs. Zenon Zogratis (Black Clover)

Palamedes Sextus (The Locked Tomb) vs. Ketheric Thorm (Baldur's Gate 3)

Ruth Fleming (Nerdy Prudes Must Die) vs. Dr. Bones Cookie (Cookie Run)

Misetani Box (Dai Dark) vs. Frank (Generation Loss)

Shimada Death (Dai Dark) vs. Bone (Warriors)

Kurloz Makara (Homestuck) vs. Mamà Imelda (Coco)

Jake English (Homestuck) vs. Hector (Coco)

SkullBaluchimon (Digimon) vs. Skullgreymon (Digimon)

SkullKnightmon (Digimon) vs. Jolly Roger

Cubone (Pokémon) vs. Ryme (Pokémon Scarlet and Violet)

Skeletal Dragon (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim) vs. Boneknapper (How to Train Your Dragon)

Shinnok (Mortal Kombat) vs. Hector (Castlevania)

Lady Micte (Maya and the Three) vs. Conway (Kentucky Route Zero)

Veralidaine "Daine" Sarrasi (The Immortal Quartet) vs. Pious Augustus (Eternal Darkness: Sanity's Requiem)

Zélie Adebola (Children of Blood and Bone) vs. SkekMal the Hunter (The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance)

The Hound (RWBY) vs. Nuckelavee (RWBY)

Nina Zenik (Six of Crows) vs. Undertaker (Black Butler)

Yorick (Hamlet) vs. Pale Rider (Persona)

Skelita Calaveras (Monster High) vs. Hell Biker (Persona)

Nico Di Angelo (Percy Jackson) vs. Bone Ravage (Fortnite)

Death (Discworld) vs. Mort (Hello from the Hallowoods)

Acererak (Dungeons & Dragons) vs. Skid (Spooky Month)

Boneyard (Dungeons & Dragons) vs. Lord Hater (Wonder Over Yonder)

Necrodeus (Kirby Mass Attack) vs. Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

Skelly (Hades) vs. Nagash (Warhammer Fantasy Battle)

Lady Bone Demon (Lego Monkie Kid) vs. Dry Bowser (Mario)

King (The Owl House) vs. Dry Bones (Mario)

Dyre Ode/Dyre Owed (Friends at the Table) vs. The Children of the Hydra's Teeth (Jason and the Argonauts (1963))

Qiu Congxue (Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know) vs. Death (The Arcana)

Kimimaro Kaguya (Naruto) vs. Gold Skull (The Sexy Brutale)

Death the Kid (Soul Eater) vs. Keyes (Fairy Tail)

Skull Knight (Berserk) vs. Director Bones (DC Comics) Bone (One Punch Man)

Lord Death Man (DC Comics) vs. Mister Bones (DC Comics)

Death (Horrible Histories) vs. Ebisu (Dorohedoro)

Skeleton (I Spy Spooky Mansion) vs. Skullomania/Saburo Nishikoyama (Street Fighter EX)

Skull Man (Mega Man) vs. SkullMan.exe (Mega Man)

A Real Magic Skeleton (OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes) vs. Skully (Scary Godmother)

Marquis (Parahumans) vs. Morgo (Little Misfortune)

Señor Huseo (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) vs. Brian Laborn/Grue (Parahumans)

Grim (The Grim Adventures) vs. Pluto (Library of Ruina)

Queen Rohaan (Watermelon) vs. Kamen Raider Genm/Kuroto Dan (Kamen Rider Ex-Aid)

Fone Bone (Bone) vs. Smiley Bone (Bone) vs. Phonciple P. "Phoney" Bone (Bone)

[fanfic-corner]

Irondad Kidnapping pt2

To celebrate me finishing my own addition to this trope, I thought I'd share some more of my favourite Irondad kidnapping fics <33 Once again, please make sure to check the tags on all of these!

Deadpool's Guide To Accidental Kidnapping by inkinmyheartandonthepage (1.6k)

Tony flew as fast as he ever had. When the vet came into view, Tony didn’t bother slowing down. He barged through the door, flying through the lobby until he came skidding into the back room with a bang.

“Don’t shoot!”

Tony held up his hands, chargers charged and ready to fire without hesitation.

“Awww crap,” Deadpool groaned, head tilting back dramatically. “I forgot to call the dad.”

Open for Business by opal_earrings (3k)

Jake likes his night shift at the gas station in the middle of nowhere because nothing ever happens. The only reason he took the job is because nothing ever happens.

But then something actually does. A teenager comes in covered in blood and asking to use his phone, and somehow that’s not the strangest thing that's going to happen during his shift tonight.

Or: Peter using a stranger's phone to call Tony for help, from the (very confused) stranger's perspective

i'll be there for you (cause you're there for me too) by MotherKarizma (4k)

Afterwards, Tony made a steadfast habit of carrying that old-school mobile phone, with one purpose and one name in the contacts, around with him wherever he went. He let it burn a hole in his pocket; let it glare at him, accusatory, as he grabbed it from the nightstand each morning.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind. Not only because he might, in a few, specifically dire scenarios, need to call upon Steve Rogers. Tony lied to himself when he claimed there was no part of him that would want to pick up on the off chance that Steve needed him.

It was a truth Tony hated to acknowledge but deep down knew all the same: he owed him one.

reese’s pieces by toast_boy (4.2k)

“The dinosaurs are going to get suspicious, you know,” Tony says.

“I know.”

They’re both quiet for a bit, then Peter looks up. “Should we… Do we tell them?” he asks. “Or do you want to hit me in the face to keep up the illusion?”

Tony blinks. Once. Twice. “You can’t say shit like that, kid.”

“I’m just trying to come up with solutions, here,” Peter says. “We could stage a kidnapping. We’ll get Happy to dress up as a goon and rough me up a little and then you all swoop in and save me. I bet Happy would love to punch me a few times.”

“Peter.”

“What? You know it’s true.”

Pizza, a Movie, and...an Attempted Kidnapping? by Pogokitten (4.5k)

“Tony. We’ll be fine,” Peter tells the man for what must be the tenth time in the last half hour.

Peter’s sitting on the couch of his and May’s apartment and building Legos with Morgan as they both watch their father’s methodical, yet anxious, pacing. He’s dressed to impress, as is Pepper who is watching the scene slightly exasperated.

“Are you sure? We can ditch the gala, kid. Just say the word,” Tony offers, halting in front of his kids.

Or: Tony and Pepper leave Peter in charge of Morgan while they go to their first gala since the third snap. Peter is expecting a calm night in with his adopted sister, but some thugs throw a wrench in his plans.

countless ways to say i love you by hopeless_hope (5.2k)

“You really love him, don’t you?”

Tony’s first instinct is to shy away from the strong word and shake his head. But then Peter turns his face into the palm of Tony’s hand, like a kitten seeking out the soothing touch, and Tony nods.

“Yeah,” he admits, swallowing thickly at the sudden swell of emotion in his chest. “I do.”

or

Over the years, Tony says a lot of things to and about Peter.

Atlas by polaroid15 (5.7k)

Peter and Tony are kidnapped by a psychopath with a particular interest in Greek mythology. Good thing Peter is used to holding up the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Secrets to keep and bullies to save by wolfypuppypiles (7.1k)

First Flash had punched him in the face for no reason and he got detention, then they were kidnapped from said detention. How could his day possibly get any worse?

5 Times Peter Slept Where He Shouldn’t by punkybunny (13k)

(+ 1 time Tony did!)

Peter has a tendency to fall sleep in places that he probably shouldn’t be sleeping in, whether he means to or not. Cue Tony, who is becoming increasing distressed as he tries to keep his kid safe and get him to finally sleep in an actual bed.

Whatever it Takes by sparksaam (21k)

Peter froze suddenly, his heart practically leaping into his throat. His eyes had made contact with the man in the front seat, only to realize that the person gazing back at him was not Tony. Instead, a tall, gruff-looking man with a hoodie and a red bandana over his mouth occupied the place where Mr. Stark had been sitting just minutes before.

“Don’t move,” the man grunted forcefully “or we’ll blow Stark’s brains out.”

OR

Tony Stark is abducted. Peter Parker just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

look closer (c l o s e r) by GalaxyThreads (23k)

"Tony wants to scream.

He wants to yell and shout and rip apart these non-teachers, demanding to know what happened, who hurt his kid, what the heck is going on. How this stupid field trip turned into a nightmare from hell and Peter is bleeding and scared and Tony doesn’t know what to do. How to fix this."

AKA: the field trip to SI from hell, because it's not a good thing an entire high school knows Peter (allegedly) works at SI.

5 times peter clung to tony by parkrstark (27k)

...and the one time tony clung to him.

what it means to be a person by LinaRai (62k)

Nearly a year after the spell that erased Peter Parker, he finds himself chained to his old mentor. Literally.

Tony Stark has been running from his memories of Thanos for two years, burying himself in work and spending time with the family he nearly lost. But when a cunning new villain kidnaps Spider-Man to get to him, they’ll have to work together to escape with their lives.

But Spider-Man is just a kid. A kid who seems to have the answers to every hole in Tony’s memory. And he’ll do anything to protect the one person who might finally let him rest.

(forgive me for putting my own fic on the list, I couldn't help myself <33)

So Still and Discreet by SpaceCowboysFromMars (63k)

Tony's world crumbles around him when Pepper dumps him, Steve rallies the other Avengers against him and dips off of the face of the planet, and Rhodey stops answering his calls after everything that went down in Germany. He doesn't expect all of this to change when he discovers a super-powered teenage boy in the basement of a HYDRA camp in rural Poland, but it could be a lot worse.

Things get complicated when Tony starts to care about the kid more than he ever intended to.

The Iron Forge (Whumptober 2019) by Assayist (163k)

(A cohesive story written to the 2019 Whumptober prompts.)

Peter didn’t think his name deserved to be on the patent next to Mr. Stark’s. And he definitely didn’t think taking the wrong drink at the celebration party would end up involving allergic reactions, surgery, poison, kidnapping, some weirdo calling himself the Forge Master, and his very own version of Mr. Stark’s Afghanistan.

Will Peter turn out to be half the inventor Mr. Stark was or will he need to wait for Mr. Stark to come save him? And what will happen when Mr. Stark is threatened and it’s up to Peter to save them both?

I hope you enjoy them all as much as I did. If there are any other kidnapping fics you enjoy, pretty please send them to me!! And otherwise, I hope you all have a lovely day <3

[the-acid-pear]

Okay i don't have the brain power to watch the rest of NRN NAT video but god that first half was horrendous anyway here's my "Reason You Suck" Speech for anyone who cares

Okay i actually got so railed up about this i got a headache so i need to counter argue to many of your points about Steven. Starting with something i see a lot of people not realize and is that yes, indeed, all endings ARE canon. This is pretty clearly explained by Henry in the secret tape (you get it from fishing it out the ballpit or from the dodo, both very annoying methods so i dont blame anyone from missing this) and it explains Jack's soul is one with time powers that will revert time based on regret. With this, we know not only EVERY ending and game over is canon but also something Jack remembers.

Keeping this on mind, Jack's obvious bias towards Dave compared to Steven MAKES sense, because there's no timeline where Steven is nice unless he's doing it out of being forced to do so (owing you a favor). On top of that, there's another detail: Jack DID know about Dave's backstory!

When he learned it is obviously not clear but there's to places where its implied he does, in fact, know about it: Dee's fight, obviously, and Jake's backstory. In Dee's fight she asks him for confirmation on whether this was true and he's like "yeah" meaning this isnt news for him, and in Jake's backstory he talks about this EVEN if he didnt go to the flipside or heard the tapes, meaning that at some point he had an honest heart to heart with Dave about his past and such.

Now, relating it back to Steven: I feel that they cannot even be fucking compared. I think Steven would be better compared to the other two phone guys we see making a decision like this, those being Harry (ironically the one who made Steven) and Peter. I mean, Roger and Jake are also in the same situation, but they're just following what their boss says so they cannot be counted in.

Peter for his part is an outlier, because he's the first Phone Guy we EVER see decide to not send someone to the factory (that being Jimbo), completely ignoring what this would mean for him (if anything, since we don't really know if there are consequences or not). Harry and Steven, obviously, did send their respective coworkers there, but there's a main difference: Steven was utterly remorseful about this while Harry kind of... thought genuinely this was a good idea?

Which does say a lot about how Harry views himself but it also says something about Steven: that he's a fucking coward. Which we did, in fact, know, but this reinforces it.

Steven made a choice by his own voalition, and i don't think this is even fair to compare with Dave. Dave was being abused and manipulated by his father figure and the only person who had ever been nice to him, the only person he thought he had in the world. He was regretful too but he really wanted to trust Henry because what did he have if he left? Steven on the other hand is not being "molly cuddled" by anyone but a manual.

This isnt to say Steven isnt tragic, he is! He, like everyone else, is a complex and tragic character who did unfortunately go quite unexplored, but he's also a bad person because he chooses to be so. He'd have been like Peter, he'd have broken the cycle, he'd have done anything a man aware of the weight of his actions could do, but he didn't, because he was scared!

Also i must point out this very cowardice also reflects on his own violence because to say he's not as bad as Peter is just plain bullshit. Peter was a bit more festive yes but he at least let you Pee On Slides and Gave You Warnings. Steven kicked me in the fucking springlocks because my puns were bad. That guy was brutal and cruel but also wouldnt dare to kick Jack's ass if he was out of that stupid cool cat suit.

So, to wrap this up now that my blood pressure went to safe levels again: when you look at the whole picture Jack's feelings towards Dave and Steven are not entirely unjustified. The way that tangerine goes about doing anything at all is highly questionable though but he's like everyone else just a flawed individual. And that's what makes this franchise so compelling

[krirebr]

Oh my god. The feelings. The feelings.

Sooooo much flailing coming your way, Aspen. Prepare yourself.

Ok. First, I owe an apology to Reader. I think it was a perfectly logical assumption that Steve would have done his due diligence and read her file when it had been provided to him. I'd directed my 😡 at the wrong person.

Which brings me to - Steve!! Now is not the time to be a gentleman! This is a political campaign of the highest stakes. Read the damn file!

Once again, Bucky and I are aligned.

That was about what I had imagined had happened between her and Jeff. How awful for everyone involved.

You can see how - though your experiences had been vastly different - you had each had to piece lives back together through loss and being pushed through time in ways you never could have dreamed.

Yeah, as they were talking, I was thinking about just how much they have in common. Life experiences you wouldn't think anyone else would be able to share.

You have Jeff and he had Peggy Carter.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Steve," you begin, your heart racing slightly, "I hope you know that despite how this arrangement started, I've come to care about you. Genuinely."

They're getting there! They really are!!!

Bucky glances glances at you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You give him a small nod, and he seems to understand, settling back in his seat.

I love the friendship that's developed here. I love it so much.

I wasn't at all surprised that Jake already knew. Looking back, it seems like so much more of a campaign manager idea than a Pepper one.

Jake leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "At first, I was worried. You two were clearly uncomfortable around each other, and it showed. But over time, something changed. You started to gel, to work as a unit. The way you interact now, the little touches, the shared glances - it's become genuine."

THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. EVERYONE CAN SEE IT!

You nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I agree," you say softly. "What we have... It's complicated and it's evolving, but it's ours.”

Yes! It is! Thank you for finally acknowledging that it's real and it's growing!!!

You leave off there, your heart pounding, unsure of what to say next, but sure that you said what you needed to say, even if you don’t know what is means even in your own mind and heart yet. But you know the thoughts and feelings are there.

I hate this. I hate it so much. Every part of it. I get it. But I hate it. Just love him!!!

“I guess we’ll see,” he says. Then he turns and looks out the window on his side.

I'm wailing. I hate it. Don't turn away, Steve! Just love each other!! 😭😭😭😭😭

Steve's eyes search yours, his voice softening as he continues, "But I gave her that trust because she agreed to base her choice based on the one condition I wanted her to agree to: pick someone she could see me marrying if I weren't running for President. That’s the real reason I never read your file."

Aspen, I made an actual noise when I read this. Like I'd been punched in the stomach. My dog turned around to look at me, concerned.

When he pulls back, there’s a serene smile on his face. “I’ll see you in Brooklyn, Mrs. Rogers.”

OH MY GOD

As you can probably see, this chapter made me really emotional. I'm dying. I'm dead. I love them. They better get everything they've ever wanted, Aspen!!!

Red, White & True: Athens to Miami [6/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 7.5k Summary: How will finding out about Jeff affect your marriage? The situation also brings you both to consider how long you can keep going on playing Mr. and Mrs. Rogers to the public. Steve also questions whether upcoming campaign plans will help or hurt.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: I left you with a bombshell at the end of the last chapter, but FEAR NOT because I drop you in immediately where we left off. This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PREVIOUSLY... You take a steadying breath, then look up at Steve and say, “Jeff Connor is my former husband.”

[SEPTEMBER 28 - AFTERNOON CAMPAIGN FLIGHT FROM ATHENS TO MIAMI]

Some eyes had been on you, but now all of the staff turn to look at Steve to gage his reaction to this statement. His mouth is slightly open, a storm in his blue eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.

You consider him for another moment, then pull out your phone, scroll to Jeff’s name in your contacts, and hit the call button. As the call starts to connect, Bucky leans over to whisper something in Steve’s ear. Steve frowns and shakes his head. Bucky shares a glare with him, then gets up and leaves the staff cabin.

As your call rings through to Jeff, you also stand, but you leave the staff cabin in the other direction, passing through to the private area that only you and Steve have total access to - anyone else needing to knock or be invited in.

You’re about to close the door when Steve catches it and follows in behind you.

You two exchange a look, both of you evidently trying to give nothing away about what just happened, and then you turn away to look out the window just as Jeff picks up on the other end of the line, answering with your name in an urgent and concerned tone.

"Hey, Jeff," you respond, keeping your voice neutral despite the tension you feel. You can feel Steve's presence behind you, a silent but palpable force in the small cabin.

"I'm so sorry," Jeff's voice comes through the phone, sounding genuinely distressed. "I didn't mean for any of this to get into the press. I swear I had no idea."

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm. "What happened, Jeff?"

There's a sigh on the other end of the line. "I was at a barbecue at Mark and Sarah's last night. You remember them, right? From our old neighborhood?"

"Yeah, I remember," you say, a flood of memories from your previous life washing over you.

“I hadn’t heard from them in a couple of years, but they reached out, and I thought it would be nice to reconnect. Started talking to a new guy, I’d never met him before, figured it was one of their neighbors. He seemed nice enough, we got to talking about work, hobbies, life. I had no idea he was from TMZ and definitely didn’t know he was recording our conversation,” anger bleeds through the tail end of his explanation.

You sigh. You have no reason to doubt his story. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? No, I’m sorry! I was stupid saying anything to a stranger, and more stupid for even going to the party at all.”

“What? No, Jeff, I’m sorry because a choice I made is impacting your life. It’s not fair that you’re getting targeted by press, especially tabloids.”

Jeff is silent for a beat, and then he says. “He paid Mark and Sarah to get access to me.”

Your heart feels sick. “How did you-?”

“Lawyers from your campaign called me an hour and a half ago when TMZ put it up online to question me, they called back twenty minutes later with confirmation of the money trail.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again - because you are, and because you don’t know what else to say.

Jeff sighs heavily on the other end of the line. "Stop apologizing," he says, his voice soft but serious in his directive. "This isn't your fault."

You lean against the window, watching the clouds drift by below, a stark contrast to the turmoil you feel inside. "But it kind of is, Jeff. The press is only interested in you because we were married."

"That doesn't make it your fault," he insists. "The fact that some tabloid vultures want to profit off our past relationship isn't on you."

There's a moment of silence on the line, filled only by the faint hum of the plane's engines. You can feel Steve's presence behind you, a silent sentinel.

"You okay?" you ask finally.

"I'm... I'm mad. And disappointed - in myself and in them. I feel like an idiot. I should’ve known it was a weird time for them to reach out after not seeing them for so long."

"Jeff, you couldn't have known that. You assumed good intentions. It’s part of what makes you who you are.”

The words came so easily out of your mouth, but once they’ve been said, your chest aches, and part of you wishes you could take them back.

You don’t know what he’s thinking on the other end, but you know it can’t be easy for him either, because he only manages a small, “Thanks,” and then there’s another pregnant pause between you.

Jeff clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Did I mess anything up for the campaign? I know how important this is, and I'd hate to think I've caused any problems."

You shake your head, even though he can't see you. "No, Jeff. If anything, your comments were probably the best-case scenario. You were kind and respectful. It's hard for anyone to spin that negatively.”

There's a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. "Well, I guess all those years of you drilling the importance of tact into me finally paid off, huh?"

You can't help but smile. "You never needed me for that."

"You know," Jeff says, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "it's kind of amazing to see you in action like this. I mean, I always knew you were capable of great things, but if this works out, I can’t wait to see what you do in action as First Lady.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” you reply, a lump rising in your throat. “Listen, I better go.”

“Yeah, me, too,” he says. “Take care.”

“And you,” you reply. “Bye.”

You hang up the call, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring out the window at the clouds below. The weight of the conversation, of the past and present colliding, settles heavily on your shoulders.

Finally, you turn to face Steve. He's leaning against the cabin wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. The silence between you is thick with unspoken questions and emotions.

“You heard all of that, right?” you ask, knowing some of his senses are enhanced through the super soldier serum that changed his body eighty years ago.

He nods.

You sigh and take a seat on the arm rest of one of the chairs, no longer wanting to stand, but not wanting to be fully seated while he’s still standing. “I thought you knew about Jeff. It’s in my file.”

One of the first things meetings for you joining the campaign had been to sit down with Jake, the head of the campaign, Elsa the communications director, and your assistant Sophia, to review the opposition research file that had been compiled for you - everything that an opponent could potentially try to dig up from your past and attempt to attack you or the campaign with. Your marriage to Jeff had been part of that.

Steve's jaw clenches, and he looks away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I... I never read your file," he admits, his voice low and tinged with regret.

You had suspected as much given how he reacted to learning about Jeff, but the confession still hits you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirls within you - surprise, confusion, a hint of hurt, and something else you can't quite name. The plane's engines hum in the background, filling the silence between you.

You study Steve's face, taking in the furrowed brow, the slight downturn of his lips. His blue eyes, usually so clear and determined, now hold a mix of guilt and uncertainty. It's a vulnerability you've rarely seen in him, and it catches you off guard.

"You never read it?" you question, your voice barely above a whisper. The implications of his admission begin to unfold in your mind, and it feels like pulling on a thread, unravelling a piece of what you thought had developed between you.”Why?”

"I trusted Pepper," he says softly.

The cabin suddenly feels smaller, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, there's a sharp knock on the cabin door.

“Come in,” Steve calls out.

The door swings open, revealing Bucky. His expression is a mix of concern and frustration as he strides into the cabin, a thick manila folder clutched in his metal hand. The soft whirring of the arm's plates adjusting is audible in the tense silence.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Bucky says, his voice a low growl as he thrusts the folder at Steve. "I can't believe you never read this."

Steve takes the folder, his fingers curling around the edges. The weight of it seems to surprise him, and he glances down at it with a furrowed brow. "Buck, I-"

"Save it," Bucky cuts him off, running a hand through his long hair in exasperation and then turning to address you. "I just found out before you made your call that this punk never bothered to look at your file. I’m sorry, I didn’t raise him to be so inconsiderate.”

Steve scoffs, “Raise me? You’re only one year older than me!”

In other circumstances, you would laugh at this exchange, but in this moment you can’t, your mind absorbing each new and shifting moment.

Bucky rounds back on his best friend. “I read it, Steve. I read every damn page because I wanted to make sure you weren't getting played or walking into a situation you’d regret. But you? You just went along with it, no questions asked?"

Steve's jaw clenches, his grip on the folder tightening. "I trusted Pepper's judgment. She wouldn't put someone in this position if she didn't think they were right for it."

"Right for what?" Bucky challenges. "The campaign? Or you?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. You feel your heart rate quicken, very aware of your presence in this conversation about you.

Steve's eyes flick to you for a moment before returning to Bucky. "Both," he says quietly.

Bucky shakes his head, looks at you and gives barely a quarter of a smile - seemingly all he can manage, and then leaves the two of you alone again.

Steve's eyes meet yours, a mix of emotions swirling in their blue depths. "I trusted Pepper," he says softly, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. "When she told me about you, about this arrangement, I didn't want to reduce you to a file full of facts and figures. I wanted to get to know you as a person, not as a dossier."

He strides further into the cabin and takes a seat across from you. "I thought it would be more... genuine that way. To learn about you through our interactions, through the campaign, through..." he trails off, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.

“It has been. Even if we got a slow start.” Both of you know you had taken turns keeping your guards up at various points over the past four months. You slip down properly into your seat.

“We’ve been talking more with each other, about each other, though, so I have to ask… Is there a reason you’ve never brought up your divorce?”

You clasp your hands in your lap, but you continue to hold his gaze, even though your heart constricts painfully. “Aside from thinking you did know about him, it didn’t naturally come up, and I wasn’t eager to just drop one of the most painful pieces of my past into our conversations because it wasn’t a divorce.”

Steve’s brow furrows even more. It’s no wonder the man has developed so many worry lines.

“I was smitten from the moment I met him, and he loved me back the way you grow up dreaming about your future husband - only it was even better because it was real. Everything about it was so normal and real. We dated, we got married, he finished his residency and joined a good family practice. We bought a house. We stayed up late watching stupid movies or playing games or going to concerts on the weekends or just talking on the weekends. We started talking babies.”

You pause and look away.

“And then?”

You look back to Steve, and, eyes burning with tears you don’t want to cry, you say, “I didn’t exist for five years and he did.”

His face falls immediately.

You press on because this is like pressing on a wound when the skin has healed but the muscles are still sore beneath the surface.

“I reappeared in a house Jeff had sold. He was my first call, of course, and he still had the same number. He picked me upHe’d just been remarried for about a year, and they were four months along expecting their first child.”

You pause, letting the weight of your words settle in the cabin. Steve's face is a mix of shock and sympathy, his blue eyes wide as he processes what you've just revealed.

“It’s something like thirty percent of couples who were married before The Blip who have had to file for this new legal classification to end a marriage. They call it a cessation. An annulment legally voids a marriage as if it never happened, and divorce is too commonly associated with a negative ending, ergo new procedure and new language.”

Steve's face crumples with understanding and sympathy. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. "I'm so sorry," he says softly. "I had no idea."

You nod, blinking back tears. "It's okay. I mean, it's not okay, but... it's been a few years now. I've had time to process it."

Steve's eyes search your face. "But it still hurts."

You let out a shaky breath. "It was surreal. Like waking up from a dream, only to find that the nightmare was real. Jeff was devastated too, in his own way. He'd mourned me, moved on, built a new life. And then suddenly I was back, throwing everything into chaos. We both knew we couldn't just pick up where we left off, but it was hard to let go of what we'd had."

Steve nods slowly, his eyes never leaving your face. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like for both of you."

"It was complicated," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "We tried to be friends at first, but it was too painful. Too many memories, too much history. Eventually, we decided it was best to go our separate ways."

Steve reaches out hesitantly, his hand hovering near yours before he pulls it back. "That must have been incredibly difficult," he says softly.

You nod, swallowing hard. "It was. For a while, I felt like I was just going through the motions. Everything I had known, everything I had planned for my future, was gone in an instant."

"How did you move forward?" Steve asks, his voice gentle.

You take a deep breath. "Slowly. Day by day. I threw myself into work, into causes I cared about. I reconnected with old friends who had also returned, made new ones. And eventually," you pause, meeting Steve's eyes, "I started to feel like myself again.”

Steve nods, his eyes filled with understanding. "It's amazing how resilient we can be," he says softly. "How we can rebuild our lives from the ashes."

You smile faintly. "It's not always easy, but we find a way."

You can see how - though your experiences had been vastly different - you had each had to piece lives back together through loss and being pushed through time in ways you never could have dreamed.

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the steady hum of the plane's engines. Outside the window, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink. The clouds below are bathed in golden light, creating an ethereal landscape that seems to stretch on forever.

Steve's gaze follows yours to the window, and for a moment, you both just watch the breathtaking view. When he turns back to you, his expression is thoughtful, almost hesitant.

"Can I ask you something?" he says, his voice low.

You nod, bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

Steve takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I know this might be presumptuous of me to ask, but you'll always love Jeff, won't you?"

You take in his earnest expression, the way his brow is slightly furrowed with concern. The cabin feels both impossibly small and infinitely vast in this moment, like you're suspended in time and space, just the two of you existing in this bubble of honesty. You consider Steve's question, feeling the weight of your history with Jeff, the joy and the pain, the love and the loss.

"Love is... complicated," you begin, your voice soft but steady. "Jeff was my first real love - the love that weathers storms kind of love. For a long time, he was my whole world. But the world changed. We both changed. And while there will always be a part of me that cares deeply for Jeff, that cherishes the memories we shared and the life we built together, it's more like..." you pause, searching for the right words.

"It's like loving a chapter of a book that's already been written?” Steve offers.

You nod, and your mind clicks, putting together that the two of you share this understanding, too.

You have Jeff and he had Peggy Carter.

“You can look back on it fondly, appreciate the story,” he continues, “but you can never go back.”

"Exactly," you say softly, meeting Steve's gaze. "It's a part of my past that shaped me, but it's not my present or my future."

Steve nods, his blue eyes filled with far too much understanding. "I know that feeling," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of shared experiences hanging between you. The fading sunlight casts long shadows across the cabin, painting everything in warm, golden hues.

"Steve," you begin, your heart racing slightly, "I hope you know that despite how this arrangement started, I've come to care about you. Genuinely."

His eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and something else—hope, maybe—flickering across his face. "I care about you too," he says, his voice low and earnest, and he looks like he wants to say more, but you cut him off, knowing you need to say what’s been slowly rising to the surface in the back of your mind while the two of you have been alone in here.

“Steve, we have to tell the senior staff of the campaign about our arranged marriage. I don’t know if we go public, but we need to bring them in so it doesn’t get discovered by someone else and revealed in a blindside that no one is ready for. They were already pretty thrown off that you didn’t know about Jeff, and that’s something two people who actually dated - for any amount of time - would have known about each other before tying the knot, and we have got to be kidding ourselves if we think there aren’t other pieces that they think don’t quite fit together.”

Steve leans back fully in his seat and drops his head back, looking at the ceiling. “What, like how we didn’t sit together much before a few weeks ago? Them potentially overhearing any of our conversations where we’re clearly getting to know each other? Or, you know, not sharing a room the nights we stay in the same city and bouncing between the excuses of it being easier so we don’t wake the other one up if one of us has an earlier call time, one of us being too light of a sleeper, or that I don’t sleep as much with being a super soldier and don’t want to keep you up while I take phone calls or strategy meetings?”

You grimace. “Obviously Bucky and Sam know, but the only way the rest of them don’t already know is if they are far too busy doing their jobs from before dawn until after midnight and don’t specifically speak to anyone else on the campaign about the odd things that might raise a flag.”

Steve sighs heavily, running a hand over his beard. "You're right," he admits, his voice tinged with resignation. "We can't keep this up forever. The longer we wait, the worse it could be if it comes out."

You nod, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. "So, how do you want to do this? Call a meeting when we land in Miami?"

Steve shakes his head. "No, we need to do it now."

You raise an eyebrow. "Now? As in, on the plane?"

"Why not?" Steve says, a hint of determination creeping into his voice. "We've got the whole senior staff here. It's a controlled environment. No risk of being overheard by the wrong people."

“We should tell Jake first,” you say, standing up and smoothing down your clothes. "As campaign manager, we owe him the courtesy of finding out before the rest of the staff since he is their leader. Then we can work with him to figure out how to tell the rest of the senior staff and map strategy."

Steve nods in agreement, standing up as well. "You're right. Jake should know first." He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Ready?"

You give a short nod, your heart racing.

Steve reaches for the cabin door, but pauses with his hand on the handle. He turns back to you, his blue eyes intense. "Whatever happens, we're in this together, okay?"

"Together," you agree softly, though there’s a piece of you that wonders how you ever thought any of this would truly work.

With that, Steve opens the door and you both step out into the main cabin. The staff members look up as you enter, curiosity and concern evident on their faces. You spot Jake near the front, poring over some documents.

"Jake," Steve calls out, his voice steady and authoritative. "We need to speak with you privately.”

Bucky glances glances at you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You give him a small nod, and he seems to understand, settling back in his seat. Steve is already stepping back into the private cabin, Jake heading toward you, but your gaze lingers on Bucky for another moment. You never thought you would be at a point where Bucky would be supportive of your arranged marriage, let alone getting after Steve and siding with you on how things were between you.

As the three of you enter the private cabin, Jake's eyes flick between you and Steve, his expression carefully neutral. The air feels thick with tension as Steve closes the door behind you, sealing off the curious gazes of the staff outside.

Jake takes a seat, his posture relaxed but attentive. The setting sun casts long shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of experience etched there. You and Steve remain standing, unconsciously positioning yourselves as a united front.

Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as if preparing for battle. "Jake, there's something we need to tell you about our relationship," he begins, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of tension. "The story about our whirlwind engagement... it's not entirely accurate."

Jake's expression remains impassive, his eyes moving between you and Steve as he listens.

Steve’s eyes meet your breifly before he continues. "Pepper did set us up, but it wasn't a typical matchmaking situation. It was... an arrangement."

The word hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Jake's expression remains unreadable, his eyes fixed on Steve.

"An arrangement," Steve repeats, his voice low and steady, "specifically designed to provide me with a wife who could potentially serve as First Lady. We met for the first time the day we got married. Everything since then - the public appearances, the interviews, the campaign trail - it's all been part of a carefully constructed narrative."

As Steve speaks, you find yourself transported back to those first awkward days. The stilted conversations, the hesitant touches, the constant awareness of the cameras and the expectations weighing on both of your shoulders.

You watch Jake carefully, searching for any sign of surprise or disappointment, but his years of political experience have clearly honed his ability to maintain a poker face. His fingers are steepled under his chin, his eyes never leaving Steve's face as he absorbs every word.

Steve's voice grows softer as he delves into the more personal aspects of your arrangement - the initial awkwardness, the gradual building of trust, the unexpected bond that has formed between you. You feel a lump forming in your throat as you listen to him describe your journey, realizing just how far you've come.

When Steve finally gets to the end, not going into details, but going right through pieces of the conversation you had about the misunderstanding with Jeff, not reading your dossier, and then talking through it together, both of you are quiet, waiting for Jake to process and respond.

He leans back in his seat, the leather creaking softly under his weight. For a moment, he simply looks at you both, his gaze moving between you and Steve with an unreadable intensity.

Then, to your utter astonishment, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I know," he says quietly.

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Your jaw drops, your mind reeling from this revelation, and you can see Steve's eyes wide in surprise. The cabin suddenly feels smaller, more claustrophobic, as if the walls are closing in around you.

"You know?" Steve manages to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jake leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, that small smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. "I've known from the beginning," he says, his voice low and steady. "In fact, I was the one who insisted on it."

Jake continues, his eyes moving between you and Steve. "When Pepper approached me about running this campaign, I knew it would be unlike anything we've ever seen before. A man out of time, a living legend, running for the highest office in the land." He pauses, his gaze settling on Steve. "I’ve made political miracles happen. I’ve done it many times in my career. But I knew I couldn’t make multiple miracles happen. Someone with a name but without much political background? Yes. A third party candidate? Yes. An unmarried man? Yes. All three? Not taking that chance. I told her I’d only take the campaign if she got you married off.”

You blink, no words coming to you. Steve huffs and widens his stance, putting his hands on his hips. His jaw clenches as he processes Jake's words. "So this whole thing... it was your idea?"

Jake nods, his expression serious. "Not the specifics, mind you. I didn't choose who you'd marry or how it would happen. I just laid out the necessity of it. Pepper handled the rest."

You find your voice, though it comes out quieter than you intended. "Why didn't you tell us you knew?"

"I wanted to see how you two would handle it. How you'd work together, how you'd present yourselves to the public and the staff. I needed to know if this arrangement could work, if you could sell it convincingly enough."

Steve's posture stiffens, his voice taking on an edge. "So we've been what, some kind of experiment to you?”

Jake holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Not an experiment, Steve. A necessary political strategy. And I have to say, you've both exceeded my expectations."

You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you - relief that Jake already knew, frustration at being kept in the dark, and a strange sense of pride at his last statement. "How have we exceeded your expectations?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Jake leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "At first, I was worried. You two were clearly uncomfortable around each other, and it showed. But over time, something changed. You started to gel, to work as a unit. The way you interact now, the little touches, the shared glances - it's become genuine."

Steve's posture relaxes slightly, but his voice is still tense when he speaks. "So what happens now? Do we tell the rest of the staff? The rest of America?”

Jake shakes his head, his expression turning serious. "In an ideal world, yes. But this isn't an ideal world. This is politics. And in politics, sometimes the truth can be more damaging than a carefully crafted narrative."

Steve's jaw clenches again, his discomfort with the situation evident. "I don't like lying to the American people," he says, his voice low.

Jake stands up, moving to face both of you directly. "It's not lying, Steve. It's... selective truth-telling. You two are married. It all moved really quickly. What started as an arrangement has become something more. And that's what we'll continue to present to the world - a strong partnership, a united front."

You feel a mix of relief and unease at his words. "But what about transparency? Isn't that what this campaign is supposed to be about?"

Jake raises an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. "Transparency in governance, yes. But the intimate details of your personal life? Why should those be public knowledge if the broad strokes are there?"

He moves to the window, gazing out at the fading sunset.

"Look," Jake continues, his voice taking on a gentler tone, "nearly half of all marriages in America end in divorce. People change, circumstances change. What matters is how couples work through those changes together."

He turns back to face you and Steve, his eyes moving between you. "And let's not forget, arranged marriages are still a reality for many families in America. Immigrants from cultures where it's common, religious communities that practice it. The fact that you two have made it work, have grown together - that's actually a powerful narrative in itself."

You and Steve exchange a glance, both processing Jake's words. There's truth in what he's saying, even if it feels uncomfortable.

"So what do we tell the rest of the staff?" you ask, breaking the silence.

Jake considers for a moment. "Essential personnel only - so the directors and your right hands, though I imagine Bucky and Sam already know?” Steve nods and Jake continues. “We tell them the basics. That your relationship started unconventionally, that it was initially more of an arrangement than a romance. But we emphasize how you've grown together, how you've become a true partnership. We focus on the present and the future, not the past."

Steve nods slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "And the public?"

"For now, nothing changes," Jake says firmly. "We continue with the narrative we've established. If questions arise, we address them honestly but carefully. We emphasize the same message. If people want to fight that, we point out a willingness to sacrifice, an ability to build meaningful relationships, there are a lot of ways we can go with it.”

You and Steve exchange a long look, a silent conversation passing between you. You have reservations, and so does he, but what Jake is saying makes the most sense. At least for now.

Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I understand the strategy," he says, his voice low and steady. "And I agree that we shouldn't disrupt the campaign or put unnecessary pressure on our relationship by going public with every detail."

You nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I agree," you say softly. "What we have... It's complicated and it's evolving, but it's ours.”

“Good,” Jake says. Then his expression shifts, an eagerness in his eyes. "Now that we've cleared the air, I have some news for you," he says, his voice taking on a tone of barely contained enthusiasm.

You and Steve exchange a curious glance, the tension from your previous conversation slowly dissipating.

"Elsa and her team have been working on getting a high-profile interview scheduled for the two of you?" Jake begins, pacing the small cabin with an energy that seems to electrify the air around him.

Steve nods, his brow furrowing slightly. "Yes, I remember you mentioning it a few days ago."

Jake's face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes sparkling with triumph. "Well, I'm pleased to announce that we've secured what might just be the most coveted interview slot in America."

[SEPTEMBER 28 - EVENING DRIVE FROM THE RALLY BACK TO THE MIAMI AIRPORT]

“I don’t like it,” Steve says as soon as the partition between the front and back of the SUV has closed and your privacy is in place. He had also quickly jumped in the vehicle after you and shut the door to prevent anyone else joining you on the way to the airport.

You let out as small of an exasperated sigh as you can manage.

“Like it or not, it’s what’s happening,” you respond.

The the ninety-minute flight time from Athens to Miami (thanks to an airliner boosted with Stark technology) had not been enough time to tell the senior staff about your marriage, do the final logistics review for Miami, and discuss a potential strategy adjustment for the coming days given the revelation about your marriage and the ramp up to the game-changing interview coming up, so while Steve had been on stage, you had been finalizing the itinerary with Jake, Elsa, Bucky, and Pepper, who weighed in over the phone.

“I don’t think it’s the right time for you to head off to the other side of the country.”

You frown at him. “Steve, we all signed off on this plan two days ago! Zoey and I are expected to show up for this string of women-targeted events from San Diego to Seattle, and it would be horrible to cancel now.”

Steve opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “Plus, Helen Santos has agreed to appear at some of those stops with us. This will be huge for the women’s vote on the West Coast.”

Steve's jaw clenches and the breaks between Miami streetlights cast intermittent shadows across his face. "I understand the political value," he says, his voice low and tense. "But after everything that's happened today, I don't think we should be apart right now."

You feel a mix of frustration and warmth in your chest at his concern. "Steve," you say, your voice softer now, "we can't change our entire campaign strategy every time something unexpected happens. That's not how this works."

“Isn’t it?” he asks. "We adjust strategy every day, and this isn't just 'something unexpected.' This is about us, about our relationship. We just told the senior staff about our arrangement. Don't you think we need some time to process that together?"

You lean back in your seat, considering his words. "I get it. Today has been intense for us both. But the West Coast tour has been planned and the advance teams have been preparing everything and rallying people to come. We’ve spent money on ad buys and billboards. Canceling now would raise more questions than we want to deal with."

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his beard. "I know you're right. I just... I worry about you being so far away, especially now."

"Maybe this is exactly what we need right now," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve's brow furrows, his blue eyes searching your face. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "Think about it, Steve. Since this whole thing started, we've been living this performance, day in and day out, sometimes together, sometimes apart. You got talked into marrying me, Sam had to lecture you and Bucky to start giving me a real chance,” Steve opens his mouth but you put up a hand, “I overheard him in Cleveland. And, yes, ultimately it was good for us to talk about Jeff today, but it has me thinking about a lot of things.”

“Like what?” he asks earnestly, reaching for your hand.

You look down and squeeze it in return.

"Like why I agreed to this in the first place," you say softly. "When Pepper approached me with this idea, part of me thought it was crazy. But another part... another part of me saw it as an opportunity."

Steve's thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, encouraging you to continue.

"After Jeff, after losing everything I had built and dreamed of I was terrified of caring that deeply again. Of investing so much of myself in another person, only to have it all ripped away." Your voice catches slightly, and you swallow hard before continuing. "This arrangement it felt safe, in a way. Detached. A way to move forward without risking my heart again.

“I knew you were a good guy, Steve. One of the best. Everyone knows that. Captain America, the hero who sacrificed everything to save the world. I wasn't worried about an arranged marriage with you because I knew it would be good companionship, doing important work for others. We'd be partners in a noble cause, working to make the world better."

You pause, looking out the window at the Miami streets passing by, the neon lights of the city blurring into streaks of color. When you turn back to Steve, his blue eyes are fixed on you, intense and attentive.

"But then something changed," you continue, your voice soft. "You started to open up, to let me see beyond the shield, beyond the legend. I saw your kindness, your humor, your vulnerability. The way you care so deeply about everything and everyone around you. But I don’t want either of us getting swept up into something just because we’re in this weird life that is the campaign where every minute is compressed and there are scores people around us in addition to the thousands of people we’re meeting every day and a hundred reporters and falling into each other would just be too easy while we play these parts.”

You leave off there, your heart pounding, unsure of what to say next, but sure that you said what you needed to say, even if you don’t know what is means even in your own mind and heart yet. But you know the thoughts and feelings are there.

“Where does that leave us then?” Steve questions after a few moments. “I don’t want us to take a step back.”

Your throat aches yet again with tears that want to come but that you don’t want to shed. “I don’t either,” you finally say. “I don’t feel like it’s a step back, maybe just a step sideways, needing to find more secure footing.”

The electric sound of the partition lowering a few inches interrupts the two of you.

“Captain and Mrs. Rogers, we’re about three minutes out from the airport,” the driver says, and Steve thanks him as he rolls the partition back up.

“It’s only a week,” you reassure him.

Steve sighs. “The whole point of schedule this split in our appearances together precisely at this point was to get the public primed in the idea that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’” he says. “Maybe it’ll work for us.”

You don’t need to grow fonder of him. “Maybe it will clear our hearts more than anything.”

“I guess we’ll see,” he says. Then he turns and looks out the window on his side.

You continue holding hands the last few minutes, but sit in silence.

[SEPTEMBER 28 - LATE EVENING - MIAMI AIRPORT]

The campaign staff swarms around you and Steve as soon as you exit the SUV. The private hangar buzzes with activity as luggage is loaded and last-minute preparations are made. You feel a twinge of anxiety as you realize this is where you and Steve will part ways for the next week.

"Mrs. Rogers, your flight to San Diego is on schedule. Wheels up in 30 minutes," Sophia, your assistant, informs you as she hands you a folder. "I've updated your briefing materials for tomorrow's events."

You nod, taking the folder and trying to focus on Sophia's words even as your mind lingers on the conversation with Steve in the car. The weight of your discussion, of the revelations and uncertainties, sits heavy in your chest.

As Sophia briefs you on the details, you can't help but glance over at Steve. He's surrounded by his own team, nodding seriously as they discuss something. His eyes meet yours for a moment, and you feel a jolt of electricity pass between you. There's so much left unsaid, so many emotions swirling just beneath the surface.

"Mrs. Rogers?" Sophia's voice snaps you back to attention. "Did you hear what I said about the event with Zoey Young and Helen Santos tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'm sorry, Sophia. Could you repeat that?" you ask, forcing yourself to focus.

As Sophia goes over the details again, you see Steve making his way over to you. Your heart rate picks up slightly as he approaches.

"Can I have a moment?" he asks, his voice low.

Sophia nods and steps away, giving you some privacy. You turn to face Steve, acutely aware of the bustling activity around you.

"I just wanted to say," Steve begins, then pauses, running a hand through his hair. "Be safe out there, okay? And if you need anything…”

“You, too,” you offer back.

Bucky approaches out of nowhere, “Sorry, wheels up in ten for us, Steve, but you can take a few more minutes if you sprint to the plane.”

Bucky squeezes your shoulder briefly. “You take care.”

You nod and smile as warmly as you can.

Alone in the sea of people again, you and Steve stall to savor a few final moments, but the uncertainty of how you’ll part is palpable.

“I meant what I said in the car about not wanting it to be a step back for us either,” you start. “I thought I’d have Sophia connect with Bucky about finding thirty minutes a day in our schedules for us to jump on a call together.”

“I think that sounds good,” Steve agrees.

Quiet falls between you two again. Your heart beats hard in your chest because now that it’s time for you to split up and board two separate planes and it was you who insisted it’s what you needed, in the final moments part of you is wavering.

Then Steve moves half a step closer and takes both of your hands in his. His touch is warm, familiar, and you feel a flutter in your chest as he looks into your eyes with an intensity that makes the bustling airport hangar fade away.

"Before you go," Steve says, his voice low and urgent, "there's something I need you to know."

You nod, your heart continuing to pound in your chest, the nearness of him both comforting and electrifying.

"I know Pepper told you I was reluctant to agree to this. She had an easier time convincing me to run than to get married. But the logical points checked out, and since I was already in, I knew I had to be all in, and I trusted Pep.”

You remember your own early conversations with Pepper, the careful way she had explained Steve's hesitation. At the time, you had assumed it was about understanding that Steve needed to become a more conventional candidate with marriage helping that.

Steve's eyes search yours, his voice softening as he continues, "But I gave her that trust because she agreed to base her choice based on the one condition I wanted her to agree to: pick someone she could see me marrying if I weren't running for President. That’s the real reason I never read your file."

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words settling over you.

"When I first met you," Steve says, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the backs of your hands, "I understood why Pepper chose you. You were kind, intelligent, passionate about making a difference. But I was still guarded, still unsure about this whole arrangement."

He takes a deep breath, his blue eyes never leaving yours. "As I got to know you, as we spent time together, I questioned myself, not knowing how to move forward since I’d faltered in the beginning, but then we started to really make something of this. I don’t know what this is yet or what will happen to us, but I think it’s something good.”

“Steve, I-”

He leans in and kisses your cheek, lingering, and your eyes flutter closed in that moment. You inhale the mix of his cologne with his natural scent, feel the warmth of his cheek against yours, the light scratch of his beard, and you want time to stop right there.

When he pulls back, there’s a serene smile on his face. “I’ll see you in Brooklyn, Mrs. Rogers.”

next part: coming 12/6

Before anyone gets carried away: THERE WILL NOT BE ANY ROMANTIC OR LUSTFUL CHAOS WITH BUCKY. Purely platonic. But now that you're one of his people, you're one of his people, and he's disappointed/annoyed with Steve, so he's in your corner on this day.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[astarionbae]

"All because they do not wish to see anyone else suffer the way they do."

 [x]

[georgiapeach30513]

Blade is just like his father🤣 and i oove it, but I can totally see him being protective over his sisters and lowkey threatens james and aster's bf in future😁

Blade may look like his dad, but he’s going to be a bit softer like his mom. That boy will definitely be protective, of his sisters, especially Story, but he’s also not a physical person. Blade is much more mild mannered, and dare I say a bit of Jake Jensen sprinkled in. He’s ridiculously smart and doesn’t even realize how attractive he is.

No Jumping on the Bed

Summary:  Blade confuses Ransom.  Aster and Iris ask questions

Pairings:  Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating:  Cute curious kids fluff

Warnings: none, 18+ ONLY for the AU this is in

Word Count:  449

Desperate Affairs Masterlist

Desperate Love Masterlist

Ransom cocks his head to the side listening to Blade tell him some computer nonsense his son had been working on. Ransom’s eyes constantly roam around looking for you, confused by what his eight year old is telling him.

You walk in, giving your baby boy a kiss on his head, ruffling his hair for good measure. Story carries in plates of food for them for lunch and sits in between Ransom and Blade as he continues. “Story book, you mind listening to your brother. Daddy needs to ask your mom something,” she gives him a nod and leans her head on his shoulder and he takes a bite of his sandwich. With a deep breath he starts all over again.

“Is he confusing you?” you ask with a giggle, standing up on your tiptoes to give him a quick smooch.

“Yeah,” Ransom rubs the back of his neck glancing back at his youngest children. “So I have two theories of my own.”

“Oh yeah, Captain? What are those?”

“Don’t start with that name unless you want me to haul your ass in the bedroom,” he takes a deep breath and looks at you with all sincerity. “Either he spends too much time at the Jensen’s. Or…”

“Or what, babe?”

“That’s really Jake’s son,” you give him a belly laugh holding on to your stomach. “I’m serious kitten. The kid isn’t like me at all.”

“Ran, he looks just like you.”

“And he acts like Jake Jensen.”

“He does spend a lot of time there.”

“You know. I said I would settle for five kids. You owe me another,” you shake your head at him. “Oh yes you do, kitten. I hear you purring.”

He stalks closer to you and you playfully push him away. “You better stop.”

“Kitten…” he stops his motions when Aster opens the fridge to get a Babybel out. Stopping to stare at the two of you. “What is it Az?”

“Are you two about to go jump on the bed?” She asks tapping her foot.

“Yep.” “Nope.” the two of you answer at the same time.

“I’m guessing daddy is going to win. He always does,” she takes a bite of her cheese still staring at you. “How come you two get to jump on the bed, but we don’t?”

“You’re not old enough,” you answer.

“You’re never jumping on the bed until the day I die. And if you do, I’ll come and haunt you.”

Iris comes in the kitchen to grab her own snack. “But..” she starts as she pours granola in her yogurt. “What if I jumped on the bed at James’ house.”

“No jumping on the bed! Kitten, we’re moving far away.”

“But what about Carter?” Aster asks and you can’t help but snicker.

“Far away from James Rogers and Carter Baizen!”

Masterlist

[imaginedreamwrite]

We’ve seen oreviews/drabbles for HL, EOM, WD, mob!Jake but could you do a few lines/preview of the series you want to write?

BOC:

The room was quiet, but this thoughts were chaotic and loud. He had no measurable way to turn off his brain, to silence endless noise when he was supposed to be resting.

It was loud, his mind. It was loud and full of his hardened, stoic wife’s voice.

The room was quiet until a muffled knock was heard at the door, moment before it was pushed open, and the chaos in his head was finally becoming softer and he owed it all to you.

“Come closer, sweetheart. I need to feel you.”

BYI:

“Just a little further…” You extended your arm as far as it could go, your right foot completely free from the ladder as you aimed to reach the last pin.

When your fingers had finally grazed the metal you felt relief, the relief had quickly given way to terror as you slipped from the ladder, a startled shriek echoing in the room as you braced yourself for impact that hadn’t come.

“You need to be careful, Angel.” Instead of a hard floor and harsh impact, you were caught by warm, muscular arms and bright blue eyes that bore into you.

“Mr. Rogers, thank you!” You shuddered in relief. “You saved me.”

“Always, doll face.”

EFY:

“Princess, come out!” Jake leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, blue eyes behind clear contacts scouring the immediate area while he waited for you.

“Jake, I’m going to look terrible.” You had whined through the door, complaining about the scenario that will have seen you stealing his shirt after yours got torn.

“That’s bullshit, princess.” Jake scoffed at the notion and knocked on the door, again. “You are going to look far too sexy in my clothes.”

“Jake Jensen,” you finally cracked the door open and he had gotten a look at you in his shirt, the material erotically wrapped around you like the finest silk sets money could buy, “you are trouble.”

“And you’re gorgeous.” Jake mumbled, taken aback by how much he liked seeing you in his shirt. “I hope every time we’re out together your shirt rips.”

EL:

Jake & his diamond diver

“You don’t have the ability to breathe underwater naturally.” He pawed at the tank you had resting against the rocks, eyes wide and jaw slack. “A tube full of air?”

“Not everyone has bills, merman.” You reached for the flippers set against the stone, only to have Jake beat you to them.

“Let me help you with your fins.” Jake, while confused about them, had started to slip them on anyway. “Odd looking tails.”

Jefferson & his songbird

“You’re very talented.” With your camera in hand, you looked at the fabric through the lens and lined the shot up. “You’re good with your hands.”

“So are you,” Jefferson spoke from behind, watching you take pictures of his designs and the well constructed pieces laying about, “you take wonderful pictures of your favourite creature.”

“You’re the only creature I know.” You lowered your camera and looked back at him, your gazes locking. He was sitting with a teacup in his hand, one leg propped up and the other extended.

“And I’m your favourite.”

[ussgallifrey]

I posted 6,932 times in 2022

That's 2,144 more posts than 2021!

88 posts created (1%)

6,844 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@targaryenvampireslayer

@avengerscompound

@andrewrussgarfield

@ussgallifrey

@viperbarnes

I tagged 5,547 of my posts in 2022

Only 20% of my posts had no tags

#chris evans - 668 posts

#bucky barnes - 455 posts

#steve rogers - 423 posts

#marvel - 349 posts

#sebastian stan - 308 posts

#sam wilson - 256 posts

#tfatws - 234 posts

#star trek - 209 posts

#glen powell - 194 posts

#fan art - 184 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and i remember stumbling across dee's blog & just being stunned that an og fan was on here and still happily posting and welcoming us newbs

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 1

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren't entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Language.

✦ Word Count: 1.9k

✦ Playlist: Here

[Master List]

See the full post

110 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

#4

Home for the Holidays | Part 1

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, fake dating, hurt/comfort, light mentions of divorce, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 7.5k

✦ Author's Note: Who are we blaming for this mess? Say it with me: @top-hhun ! The true enabler of all things Jake Seresin. I owe it all to you, love &lt;3

[Master List]

See the full post

183 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

#3

☆ Gender Neutral Reader ||  ✻ Non-Binary Reader ||  ◇ Original Character

And They Were Quarantined [in-progress] • When two ex-Hydra agents are forced into a medical quarantine in an abandoned Hydra facility, only good things can come of it.

The Kingfisher ◇ [hiatus] • An unsuspecting file hidden within the archives of the SSR office in New York, leads to memories of Bucky’s past to come unraveling at the seams.

To Build a Home [complete] • The glimpses into a life Bucky never thought was possible for himself. A world where he would find someone who he could love and be loved in return - a person he could start a family with.

What's Left Behind ☆ [complete] • The world turned upside down the minute you let your guard down and, despite it all, you just had to keep going because... what else could you do at a time like this?

ONE SHOTS • Change of Plans • Crumbs • Jealous • Lost in the Woods ☆ • Shield ☆ • Show Yourself • Truth Hurts • Up on The Housetop • Warmth • Winter Wonderland

SMUT ONE SHOTS (18+ only) • Creature of the Night • Leather & Lace ☆ • Love Bomb Baby • Peaches and Cream • Quiet • Scream For Me ✻ • Wrapped Around My Finger

DRABBLES • Don't Touch Her • I Can't Feel My Legs ☆ • Shhh, Don't Cry • Syrup Sweet

See the full post

333 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#2

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder [MasterList]

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren't entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Greek mythology, language, long fic, slow burn, superhero!Reader.

✦ Word Count: ~280 - 330k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Face Claims: Part One || Part Two

See the full post

346 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Love Bomb Baby

✦ Summary: Never in a million years did you think you would be spending your birthday with one of the hottest bands on the East Coast. Let alone, did you expect you would be doing so in the company of their drummer, Bucky fucking Barnes.

✦ Pairing: 80s Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: 18+ only - minors do not interact, dirty talk, drinking, language, mild degradation, one night stand, oral sex (f! receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex.

✦ Word Count: 3.6k

✦ Author's Note: Have I been listening to the music from Peacemaker recently? Yes, yes I have. The soundtrack is fucking awesome and the second I heard Love Bomb Baby, I knew I had a story on my hands. Highly recommend listening to it while reading this.

See the full post

362 notes - Posted February 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[thezombieprostitute]

Dream Come True - Part 3

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

Warnings: Violence mentioned and referenced, not written. Insecure reader. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!

Part 2 -- Part 4

Series Masterlist

Ransom was not having a good day. Truth be told, he hadn't had a good day since Steve punched his stomach over a week ago. The writer's block had hit harder than usual. Many applicants for the Assistant position were garbage, completely upsetting his idea that you just needed to google the right answers.

He was starting to realize that Fatso, as he had taken to calling her in his head, was able to help him through his writing blocks because she had the context of the other questions, some rough draft information, and she'd include ways to use her research into the story. Maybe he just needed to actually hire someone from the "competent" file and try from there?

Problem was, time was an issue. His writer's block had kicked in hard and his publisher was getting more impatient about updates. He spent so much time just staring at his computer.

He was startled out of his contemplation by a phone call. If it was his publisher he'd just ignore it but the Caller ID showed "Steve Rogers".

Ransom answered, "Rogers! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where the hell are you Drysdale?" Steve was quiet growling into the phone. Indicating he was around others.

"What do you mean?"

"The damned Stark party? Raising funds for Rhodes's campaign?!" Ransom could swear he heard Steve's teeth grinding. "You're supposed to be here chatting with Mrs. Devereaux. Buttering her up to at least not donate to Wilford?!"

"Shit," Ransom jumped up and ran towards his closet. "Tell her I'll be there in 20 minutes. If she needs an excuse, I was writing up a storm. I'll make it up to her by naming a character after her or something."

"Just. Get. Here." Steve hung up.

Yeah, Ransom was not having a good day.

Your life was returning to some sense of normalcy. The crutches were a pain but, thankfully, you didn't have a lot of places to go. You wanted to get back to working as quickly as you could, if only to feel like you were actually earning some of the money you'd been given.

But you'd kept your promise to be safe, and allow yourself to heal. You did your best to keep within the movement restrictions you were given. Part of you was still waiting for that hospital bill. Yes, Curtis, Dr. Beck, even Jake and Jefferson all said it was taken care of but part of you still waited for that dreaded notice of nonpayment.

Thankfully the cybercafe wasn't too far and you were able to convince the J's (as they told you to call them) that it was the perfect distance for your needed exercise and movement and you'd sit at the cafe long enough to rest for the return trip. You were happy to get back to tutoring the girls in the afternoons. Your mornings were spent applying for other jobs.

One morning your applications were interrupted by Jake.

"Hey, Y/N, this is Hal," Jake gestured to the handsome, shirt-haired man, wearing a too small shirt, next to him. "He's here to work with you towards getting his GED.”

"Oh, yes," you perk up. "Curtis mentioned another possible student." You reach out your hand and Hal, grinning even wider, shakes it.

"It's mighty kind of you to agree to this," he began. "I've been meaning to fill in that gap on my resume for some time.”

"Well I'm happy to help you with that. Please, have a seat so we can get started?”

Hal pulls out the nearest chair and turns it so that he sits on it backwards, his muscly arms resting on the back of the chair.

"So, is this a time that works for you," you ask. "I've got a pretty open schedule so your time preferences are get priority.”

"Well," he hesitates, "my schedule is pretty all-over-the-place. Is there any chance we could take it a week at a time?”

"Sure," you affirm. "As long as you give me notice so I'm not sitting here doing nothing.”

"Yes, ma'am," Hal nods. "I'm not in the habit of leaving pretty girls wanting." He gives a wink but you drop your eyes and sigh.

"Hal," you scold. "I'm going to guess you're the type to hit on anything that breathes?”

Clearly taken aback by your tone Hal straightens in his seat. "No," he denies. "Maybe. I swear I was just trying to compliment you.”

You pause your comeback and take a deep breath instead. "I suppose there is a difference," you concede. “Just please be careful with both of those around me. I am not a "pretty girl" and I do not appreciate being addressed as such.”

Hal's eyebrows furrow in confusion so you continue, "let's just keep the compliments related to our work? Please? I'd always prefer being smart or nice to being pretty." You give him a small smile and he visibly relaxes.

"Sure thing, Teach," he says. "So, where should we start?”

Curtis was cleaning up the interrogation room after Barnes and Fowler's latest “message” to Rumlow’s crew. They had already taken the body to drop it off on Rumlow's front door, Curtis would make sure all evidence was removed from the room. It was ugly work but maybe, just maybe, Rumlow would stop trying to push his drugs and thugs in their territory.

He was finishing up when he got a text from Jefferson saying Hal’s first session went well. He normally doesn't need these kinds of updates from the legitimate side of things but he found himself rather invested in your progress. You were unusual. A puzzle he wanted to figure out.

Or so he kept telling himself to explain why he was thinking about you so much. You’d shown yourself to be sweet and patient with others but he remembers the fire with which you spoke to him. He almost felt like a moth drawn to your light but he had to keep himself in check. For now it was enough to know you were doing well and helping his family.

At least until he got the follow up text from Jefferson saying, “Ran is looking for Teach. Ok to share info?”

Curtis felt his jaw tighten. The pompous ass had fired someone for taking a bullet. He didn't want him anywhere near you. He was sure you wouldn't want to see Ransom, either. Jake had told him you'd blocked your former boss’s number and his emails would go straight to spam. He texted back a simple “no.” Let the asshole suffer.

Part 2 -- Part 4

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[angelic-jeonghan1004]

Enhypen reacting to you cheating in a game to win

More enha timeeee I've got more stuff in the works for them so soon I'll make a masterlist! Doing a mixture of both video games and arcade games in this. If it's not obvious to tell from my past fics I love me some video games I'm now super into Genshin atm!! Heeseung is absurdly long btw sorry about that he's the only one I actually had an idea for from a random tropes list on Wattpad the rest I wrote the prompt games and ideas for sitting through a school lecture

Pairing: Enhypen x reader

Genre: fluff, crack

Warning: swearing!

Gif credits to rightful owner ✨

Heeseung

Thinking of a way to spend time with your boyfriend and have a fun date

You went to play laser tag, there's no physical harm in laser tag

Problem here is you're both competitive

And deciding against being on the same team

Decided to go being on opposite team

Whoever lost has to buy lunch

So going into the game in the black out neon room full of obstacles you both had one thing on your mind

"I'm going to win" was the one thought racing through both of your heads (spoiler alert you won in the end)

Protecting your chestplate for your life in fear of someone shooting you

The game got very heated but you thought strategically

You didn't try to find him (that was his goal to find you, but by his height yells or cheers of success eliminating a player you knew where he was 99% of the time) you actually avoided him

You went to get out all of his teammates

It wasn't hard you where in it to win it

You realized there's no way it's not just you and Heeseung now

An idea came to mind

Yelling to him you said

"Heeseung I have an idea to make this fun for us , meet me at the middle since I don't want to yell"

You both made your way to the middle very cautious of eachother but he was very curious of the challenge

Quickly you explained that you two should go on opposite ends of the laser tag maze but each step you take you have to do one shot no matter what

Due to your limited amo this intrigued Heeseung

How he could strategically move his lanky body around the maze without loosing tok much amo

He agreed

And you leaned in for a kiss before "putting the plan to action"

He quickly accepted the kiss closing his eyes taking in the moment before having to head to the opposite corner

That was until he heard the "Defeated" noise come from his chest plate as you shot him in the chest neon red lights covering the what used to be blue chestplate

You giggled as you broke the kiss

"UNFAIR" Heeseung yelled

"We can talk about it over lunch" you said putting your hand in his

You explained your true strategy to him at lunch and how you made that plan up just so he wouldn't kill you on spot

He peas so pouty

Just ate his food and sulked

"You owe me a fist game and next time let's try that challenge I was excited baby"

He'd say with just 🥺 eyes

Pls win this boy some sort of gift he deserves a pick me up

Jay

You guys where having a great time having an in home date

Then you disrespected man's gaming skills

Oh all hell broke loose into a heated argument

"I totally bet I could beat you in Tekken"

"Oh you fucking wish"

"Who do you main"

"Roger" (Roger is a Kangaroo)

"What the fuck are you doing? Representing Jake's home? That character takes no skill to beat people as"

"Yeah well who do you main"

"Is that even a question? Alisa Bosconovitch. A cyborg robot lady with fucking jet legs and chainsaw arms you can't tell me that's not cool"

"You're telling me I'M the one that plays someone that takes no skill to play as?"

You both knew there was only one way to settle this

Jay got out Playstation and everything for it and put it as a 5 match game

Settling yourselves into the game you both where doing actually really well

Way too well actually it was 2 to 2 so whoever won this round one the game

Your anxiety got too high

You where not gonna let this dude win

He'd be too cocky for his own good holding it over you

Quickly you had an idea as you saw his health was only 50% of the way nearing death and your ultra power and held up enough exp

"BABY IS THAT A SPIDER" you yelled looking at the ground near his leg

Causing him to roll away from his spot fearing a spider near his leg loosing focus

That's when you charged at his character

You could see the soul leave his body

When he saw the pink and magenta hair move speedy across the screen straight to his sweet little kangaroo in boxing gloves and a neck tie

"K.O" filling the screen you knew his yell was coming before he even did it

"AAAAAAAAA"

"WAS THERE EVEN A SPIDER"

"No baby I just had to through you off your rthym"

Man he was HURT

"I can't tell if that was foul or not. I'm going to talk with Niki on if what you did was fair or not"

"Babe it's not that deep-"

"No No No you owe me a rematch, kiss and patience as I consult with Niki"

Jake

Gosh this sweet boy

You two where playing dead by daylight on switches laying on opposite sides of the couch so you couldn't see eachothers screen

And you just kept scaring Jake coming up out of no where behind him

"Baby please just kill me you don't have to run up behind me" he was so scared please(〒﹏〒)

He was giving you puppy dog eyes that quickly went to fear as he shrieked from you running up behind him as he tried to start the car for the 18478282 time

You realized he was actually almost done fixing the car due to his pears so you went on a killing spree it was just you, Jake and some girl who was searching for fuel that you couldn't find

Getting back to Jake you realized he actually started the car and was ready to drive it and win the game

You hid behind a tree so he wouldn't see you

So in that moment you said "Jake can you toss the blanket I'm really cold"

Jake is too much if a gentle men he did so immedietly with a smile on his face you felt a little bad for what you where doing ngl

You took this chance and killed Jake's character

He knows that's how the game works that you you still could've done that without

But boy still yelled that it was unfair

Another boy who would just pout

Beware next round he's not going to be nice and will play the murderer

Sunghoon

Who knew a game of thumb war would get so aggressive

You where just waiting for the time to pass for a cafe to open up since you guys where too early before opening

The glares you shot eachother where unreal

Neither of you wanted to loose and both where confident in winning

But one thing was tempting you

The sign flipping over to open on the front door

So in that quick moment you felt really bad

But you stepped on his toe as you lifted your arms down and quickly put your thumb over his

"12345678910 I WIN"

"NO YOU DIDNT THAT WAS TOTALLY CHEATING"

He was so upset omg

The glare on his face

You know the look like just 😐 but definitely angry

But he couldn't hide the smile on his face when you leaned in to kiss his cheek

"I needed the game to end the cafes open now baby,,,"

He went blank for a second confused then

"OH SHIT YOU'RE RIGHT WE WHERE IN LINE FOR THE CAFE LETS GET IN"

A smile filled his face and he moved your hands to be in an actual hand holding way as you too went in

But don't get me wrong

This boy getting a rematch

And if you playing dirty he'll play dirty too

But for now he'll be fine having this cafe date of coffee/tea and pastries with you

Sunoo

Rthym games aren't a competition

But you guys made it one-

Who could get a higher score??

Originally a joke gone TOO far

Since here you are playing one song from Superstar Woollim, Superstar SM and Superstar JYP

Just 3 main and random superstar rthym games

Each thing was going alright then you got to Woollim

You both played the same songs but each got to choose a song

Woollim you knew The Eye was hard so you chose it and had him go first

He was doing surprisingly well though

Too well🤔

But suddenly Jungwon entered the room

You knew what to do

Make that boy jealous

"Hi bubs! How are you?" You said looking up to Jungwon

Jungwon was very polite asked you how you where

And Sunoo was not having it

He's fine with you being friends with all of enha

He encourages it!

But bubs is a pet name that's for him and him only😔😔

This caused his attention to tare away for a second

Suddenly in the blink of an eye his heart dropped as the "missed" noise came through the phone

The yELL

He was so mad

Once the song was done he immedietly went

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"Sort of"

And then you just did your turn and this boy gasped and look at you likeヽ༼⁰o⁰；༽ノ

He would be pettyyyyy

He'd be so mad

Pouting and glaring at you

Just completely done

You'd have to go in with a LOT of cuddles and affection

But he'd still not budge for a while

You got a better score than him so you won

But he will hold this over you whenever he wants something he'll be like

"remember when you cheated in a game we where playing by making me jealous? That was a little too much don't you think? Now grab me one of the ice cream bars from the freezer"

Jungwon

Wonnie this precious boy

Ppuyo ppuyo Tetris is not a game to play with others

It ruins relationships, friendships, family bonds (from personal experience as someone who got grilled on their Tetris skills while playing 1v1 while my friend was also doing terrible)

He got it since the characters looked cute

And Tetris is fun!

So why not??

You guys started playing it on the switch and everything was fine at first

Then it started getting faster

Wonnie chose the annoying little wizard guy that just yells every 5 seconds

It was driving you both up a wall ngl

So you where like how do I cheat in Tetris,,,

You realized you where gonna get a 5 in 1 move so it was gonna fuck up his play real hard

But if he realizes that's your move he can make one just as strong if he puts his brain to realize what spots he has open and he's good at coming back from riskfull moments

So you digged deep in your brain to think of something quick

It hit you then

"Wonnie did I ever tell you who my Enhypen bias was"

His face just sort scrunched and he was like ¯\_ಠ_ಠ_/¯ I thought it was me? Moment

"wouldn't it be me? I never thought to ask"

"Oh okay" legit you had gone in with the 5 in 1 move and he hadn't looked at the silver blocks that quickly started to fill his screen he wanted to know

"nonono who is it?" Turned to you he didn't even see the mess that was on his screen

Until he heard the god for saken wizard just yell in defeat

"wait no that's unfair you can't drop something like that on me while we where in a 1v1 match"

His eyes he would just ಠ︵ಠ

Boy so sad :((

He lost the game and now he doesn't know if you bias him or not

If you do bias him you'd just tell him and he'd be like you stressed me out for noThing??

If you didn't bias him he'd be fine with it but he'd need a little moment of confirmation

Idk give this boy some kisses you stressing him out

Niki

Intense DDR fight let's go

This boy don't go down without a fight

Neither do you

But as the levels kept going and the energy got more and more intense

You know it was very likely Niki could win

That boy is dancing prodigy type of guy

So he be doing these steps while also the hand work of the dance itself just to flex

Done with the cute boys snarky behavior

You did the one thing that would throw him of his rthym

Pretend to get hurt

You crouched in a way and made it seem like your knee was in pain but you where still doing the steps

Niki was gonna look over to you to be snarky and witty

But you looked in pain and this giant baby got panicked

"nononono baby are you okay? If you're in pain don't worsen your injury we can stop playing, what about your knee hurts?" He was panicking and you immedietly felt so bad

He stopped moving and so his score got worse and worse

You felt so bad you pretended to just act it out a lil more

"no don't worry Riki it's okay I'll be fine"

"don't say that you're in pain you could worsen your condition, let's find out what happened maybe you just buckled your knee? I've done that, be more careful please"

He legit went over to your board and tried to just stop your movements and left a kiss on your forehead

The song would end and your score would be higher but you would never do that as a cheat again

You didn't even have the courage to tell Riki after

He continued to be just so sweet and caring throughout the date

Would probably even text you afterwards like "Im sorry you injured your knee a little but I'm glad afterwards you felt better and I had a lot of fun :))"

Pls you better keep that all in till the day you die or tell him it's up to you but don't mess with this pore boy again like that pls(〒﹏〒)