#lets help Jimmy win

[unhingedoceanenthusiast]

If not trans, then why does trans flag show up in multiple of his skins? Vote Jimmy Solidarity!

@mcytransswag

[stormyoceans]

thinking about pirate captain sea and surgeon jimmy like

[jeysbvck]

randy vs jimmy tonight.

seeing jimmy lose again is gonna be rough :(((

[livwritessometimes]

Where's the Trophy? He Just Comes Running Over to Me

: Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, and Lewis Hamilton

: Part 2

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note - Let me know if you guys want a part 2 with other drivers.

...

Lando Norris

Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads

(Miami Grand Prix, 2024)

He did it! Lando finally got his first win. 

Years of doubt, years of criticism it didn't matter now. He finally was able to win for him and McLaren. As soon as he got out of the car, he was greeted by loud cheers from everyone there. On his way back to the team, he saw almost every single driver in the grid waiting there to congratulate him. 

"I'm so happy for you, Lando," said Carlos as he pulled in Lando for a hug. 

"Bout time, huh," said Max bumping into Lando as soon as he was done getting his weight measured. 

"I am so happy for you, mate," said Charles as he passed by Lando.

"You did great, man," said Oscar, who saw Lando enter the area where the team was eagerly waiting for him behind the barricade. 

Upon seeing the entire team waiting for him, Lando could not help it; he immediately took off to where they were standing. As soon as he reached them, Lando dove right in. 

The entire area was filled with the team cheering and chanting 'Let's Go, Lando' while carrying him over their shoulders. During that time, Lando's eyes landed on Y/n.

He immediately started to wiggle out of the team's grip. Everyone was confused as to what he was doing, but as they put him down, they got their answer. Lando sprinted towards Y/n and lifted her off the ground. 

"What are you doing?" Y/n shrieked as she felt Lando's body slam against her.

"Celebrating what else," Lando said as he pulled her even closer. 

"What about the team?" Y/n asked as she let her hands run through his hair.

"They can wait! I wanna celebrate it with you first," Lando said.

"You've been there through all my podiums, all my losses; you bet your ass you'll be there right front and centre through my wins too," he finished as he set her down on the ground.

"You truly are amazing; you know that, Mr. Norris, Grand Prix Winner," Y/n said, smiling up at Lando.

...

Max Verstappen

Cause the sign on your heart Said it's still reserved for me

(Dutch Grand Prix, 2024)

Y/n was nervously waiting as she watched the race.

4 more laps. 3 more laps. 2 more laps.

That's what she kept telling herself as she watched the bull maintain the lead.

*flashback*

Max and Y/n had spent the majority of their day lying on the couch with Jimmy and Sassy. It was the last day before the race season began for the year.

"I love this," Max stated.

"Love what?" Y/n asked.

"These days," he said. "Where we spend all our time together," he continued.

"And why is that?" Y/n asked as she looked at Max from her spot, careful not to disturb the cat sleeping on her chest.

"It's nice; we are together, and I don't have to worry about anything," Max said. He continued, "I always feel like when I am away for so long, you'll realize that I'm just a loser who is not worth being with, and you'd break up with me."

The sincerity with which Max had said that made her feel bad. Reaching out to caress his cheek, Y/n said, "I'll never leave you, Maxie. No matter what." She added, "Even if we break up, I'd never leave your side. I'll always be the one that cheers the loudest for all your wins."

*present*

True to her words, Y/n was there at every race. Even though Max and her had broken up, Y/n just couldn't break the promise she had made.

The distance this time had really tested their relationship. All the stupid fights finally built up to something that the both of them could no longer ignore.

The past few races had not been good for Max. No matter what he did, he was not winning, and Y/n knew it was getting to him.

Despite the breakup, the two still remained friends; she constantly checked up on him, and she knew that he needed that win. He needed to win.

Finally, as the final lap began, everyone in the Red Bull garage was holding each other's hands for support. It was Max and Lando battling for first place. With each corner they passed, the team grew more and more anxious. Nearing the final corner, Max gave all that he had left to cover the few meters that were left. The car had not been the best; the team knew that; Y/n knew that; Max knew that. So it truly was Max that was making the car special, and he wanted to prove that he still could do it.

With a final push, Max crossed the finish line. Everyone in the garage went crazy. They all started running towards the barricade, waiting for Max.

The moment the car stopped, Max ran. He ran like he had never before. He didn't even bother taking off his helmet. All he could think of was one thing and one thing only.

As soon as the team saw Max running towards them, they started to cheer even louder. Ignoring them, Max ran straight towards Y/n, who was standing amongst the team, and pulled her in for a hug.

"I hate it," he said.

"I hate not being able to spend my time with you. I hate that we fought. And what I hate the most is the fact that no matter what happened, you're still here, and I can't call you mine," he finished.

"Max," Y/n said as she felt her eyes tearing up.

"It was a stupid decision to break up. I want you. Please give me a chance to make things right again," Max said as he pulled away.

"I hated the way things ended, and I want nothing more than getting back together, Maxie," Y/n said, smiling as she kissed Max's helmet.

...

Lewis Hamilton

I haven't come around in so long But I'm making a comeback to where I belong

(British Grand Prix, 2024)

Lewis could not contain his happiness. It was his first win of the season. It was his home race, and man did it feel amazing.

Looking at the crowd gathered around, he could not help but get emotional. Ever since 2021, Lewis has not been the same. He no longer was leading every race, he no longer won, and he no longer was the world champion. He was happy for Max, but it still burdened him. 

These few years had been a tough journey for Lewis. Everywhere he looked, he felt like it was a reminder to him that maybe it's time he quit racing. And usually he doesn't let this get to him; he has Y/n there to always pull him out of his thoughts. But as of late, no matter what she did or what his friends did, Lewis couldn't help but think that his age has finally caught up to him.

This seed of self-doubt had blossomed into a full-grown tree of trust issues and self-criticism. Lewis kept on thinking about how if he can't even keep winning, something he has known for almost half his life, then how can he even be called a husband to Y/n? 

At night when the two would be cuddling, Lewis' mind often drifted to a world where he was still winning, where he could have won his 10th championship by now. Where he and Y/n would have a really happy life—not that it isn't now, but somehow it is better. Where he was a better father to his son.

All those doubts were now forgotten, for a while at least.

"OH MY GOD! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!" Y/n screamed as she ran up to Lewis and tackled him. 

The two fell over laughing as Y/n peppered Lewis' face with kisses. "I am so glad you were here to witness this," Lewis said as he wrapped his hand around Y/n.

"Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss it for the world. I am so happy for you, Lew," Y/n said. "I know, no matter how much you try and hide it, I can see this has been troubling you. My love, promise me no matter what, you never let these doubts consume you," Y/n continued.

Lewis nodded at her, smiling softly. Of course she noticed; she always knew what he was thinking about.

"I mean it. I am always, ALWAYS here for you. So don't you dare lock yourself up in there every again," she said while pointing towards Lewis' temple.

Suddenly a new weight was added on top of them, and as the two turned, they saw their son had decided to join them on the ground. He wrapped his arms around Lewis and Y/n, "I'm so proud of you, dad," your little 6-year-old said as he pulled you both closer.

It was finally time for the national anthem. Lewis was standing at the top of the podium, looking down at his team and loved ones. He made eye contact with Y/n and his son and sent a flying kiss towards them. He smiled when he saw his son trying to catch the kiss. 

It felt right; standing at the top felt good, and Lewis swore to himself that this wouldn't be the last time.

...

Tags: @wobblymug | @evasmlp

[cha0tician]

im allowed to codypost after romanposting bc im being normal. yall see how normal i am. i only have the leading theory that cody will come back at rumble and win undisputed at mania. everyone thinks that. you ask me about where i think the bloodlines going/could go/should go and you are going to get a thirty minute presentation complete with a flowchart

[slasher-fxcker]

Slashers seeing their future S/O for the first time

Part 1

Including: Billy Loomis, Bo Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Lester Sinclair, Stu Macher & Vincent Sinclair.

Warnings: Mentions of death, slashers being slashers. This page is 18+ Minors do not interact.

A/N: Okay this is my first post on here so any and all feedback is welcome! Also, there will be a part two, I will be including all the slashers I write for I just got a bit carried away and I thought it was a bit long for one part lol. Second part will include Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Billy Lenz, Brahms Heelshire and Jesse Cromeans.

Billy Loomis:

· This was meant to be an easy kill for Billy. Some geek that showed up at a party he shouldn’t have been at, Billy had been watching him for most of the night when he saw his target getting ready to leave. He started heading to the closet he hid his Ghostface costume in when someone crashed into him spilling their drink all down the front of his shirt.

· Billy was in two minds about whether he should give them a piece of his mind or ignore their apologies and sneak away anyway. But as he looked up whatever reply he had planned got caught in his throat. When he looked into your pleading eyes he could immediately tell how bad you felt. He didn’t realise he was staring until he noticed you were waiting for a response.

· He regains his composure and brushed off your apologies, telling you not to worry about it. You seemed relieved and he couldn’t help but smirk at how you looked around the room frantically. “Lost something?” he finally asks you, “Am I that obvious?” you laugh before holding your hand out, “I’m Y/N, Randy’s cousin.” Billy seemed to stare at your hand for a second before taking it in his and introducing himself. Maybe just this once he’d let the target go and find something worth enjoying.

Bo Sinclair:

· Getting out of the beat-up truck Bo winced as he felt the pain in his arm of the wound that hadn’t fully healed just yet. Lightly holding the spot and remembering how one of the victims had cut him good with that knife. He sighed and shrugged the thought off before walking towards the dimly lit bar. Sitting down on one of the stools and ordering a beer.

· He soon becomes aware of a man groaning angrily at one of the nearby pool tables, “There aint no way you're winning again without cheatin’” he hears the man grumble. Bo’s fairly accustomed to the usual pool bets but what does surprise him is the feminine laugh he hears in response, he turns around to see you bent over the table lining up your next shot. He feels his throat dry up at the sight of the position you’re in and the teasing smirk that’s on your face.

· “Don’t be a sore loser Jimmy,” you laugh before sinking yet another ball into its socket. Bo can barely take his eyes off you as he leans back taking another sip of his beer. You and the man seem to go back and forth in arguing about the game, and he feels like he could watch you all night. The game is coming to an end with you clearly winning, before he even thinks about it Bo has downed the rest of his beer and is walking towards you. As you’re lining up your final shot Bo slams down a couple of bills on the side of the pool table, you look up at him and he flashed his signature grin at you, “I’ve got winner,” he says as he looks you up and down. You sink your last ball before turning back to him, “You’ve got it handsome,” she smirks. Oh, you were trouble, and Bo couldn’t wait to see how this night turned out.

Jason Voorhees:

· It had been a quiet week for Jason, no campers, no teens, nothing. He had been out collecting wood for the fire when he found a small stone, he liked collecting bits and pieces from around the woods. Small knickknacks to decorate the shabby cabin he called home. The stone had five points and could be seen as almost the shape of a star, what Jason didn’t realise was he had spent far too long invested in the stone to notice someone walking on the trail nearby. The snapping of some sticks broke him out of his thoughts as he saw a figure nearby.

· Jason quickly shoved the stone in his pocket before walking silently to a spot where he could watch the trail without being spotted. He watched you from afar for a while, seeing you look around you as you made your way down the path. The way you watched the nature around you with a small smile on your face made Jason feel a warmth inside him. He followed you all the way to the camp grounds. You seem surprised to find the open space on your trip. You sat down on one of the stone seats before unpacking some lunch for yourself.

· It wasn’t long before you had gotten up and were walking around the small opening. It was then that Jason heard you speak for the first time which caused him to tense in fear. “Hey there little guy.” That was it, you must’ve seen him. He froze as you stepped towards his hiding spot only to stop a few feet in front of where he stood, where he thought he was hidden by the shrubs. But you weren’t looking at him to his relief, he saw the small squirrel perched on a branch that seemed to have your attention. He felt himself relax as he noticed this before trying to silently move further to the other side of the clearing.

· To his surprise the squirrel hadn’t run away, he must’ve smelt the food in your hand as he stood hesitantly sniffing the air. “You hungry?” you asked him rhetorically before holding out a small piece of crust for the squirrel and placing it on the branch near him. Jason watched and couldn’t help but melt at your kindness, he heard the familiar voice in his head but this time the voice was calm, telling him you needed protection, you needed him. But how was he supposed to approach you. A few minutes passed and you turned back to your seat, walking over you noticed something had now been placed where you once sat. You picked up the small stone, noticing it was shaped like a star. You looked around for someone before looking back at the stone, a small smile on your face. It warmed Jason’s heart as he prepared himself to find you more gifts.

Lester Sinclair:

· Lester found himself almost zoning out as he drove down the all too familiar road, the predictability of the same turns and sights that he saw every day seeming to get on his nerves today. Until he noticed a car on the side of the road, he hated his part in this, he tried to just shut himself off from it and think of whoever the poor bastard was that wandered their way as just a stranger, a nobody with no identity. It helped that they were usually rude to him, at least that way he felt less remorse for them. He couldn’t see the person that was hidden under the hood, probably uselessly trying to figure out what was wrong with their car.

· “Looks like you could use a hand.” He didn’t expect the slight squeal from whoever was behind the hood before you walked out, “oh gosh you gave me a fright,” you giggled. Lester was trying to pick his jaw up off the floor and string a sentence together, you definitely weren’t the first young lady to come through these parts but he sure thought you were the prettiest. “Uh, sorry ma’am.” He gulped before wracking his brain for words, “I saw you stuck here and thought you could use a hand.” You sighed before closing the hood, “Unless you happen to have a fanbelt on you, I don’t think so,” He felt the slight dread creep up as he remembered the scenario, he hesitated before spilling his usual script about taking you to see Bo. Of course, you agreed, having no other option and climbing into his truck.

· Not long into the drive you spoke, “I’m Y/N by the way,” he nodded before realising you were waiting for a response, “Oh, I’m Lester,” he responded. “Lester,” you repeated with a smile, he couldn’t help the feeling in his stomach when you repeated his name. “Well thank you very much Lester, I definitely owe you one for driving me all this way.” The more you spoke the worse he was starting to feel, you seemed kind, you were nice to him which was a welcome change, you laughed along with him instead of at him, you didn’t deserve the fate that you were walking into. As you neared Ambrose he realised he couldn’t let you die, he didn’t know how yet but he would do everything he could to keep Bo from hurting you. He knew life was going to be anything but predictable with you around

Stu Macher:

· Stu groans when the bell rings, his least favourite subject and it was the first lesson of the day. “You coming Stu?” He looks at Randy as he seems to think it over, “Nah, we’ve got Evans, I don’t need another detention from that douche.” Randy just rolls his eyes as Stu starts walking in the opposite direction, he hears Randy grumble some smart-ass comment to himself as he walks away.

· Stu was about to turn towards the entrance when he heard you curse to yourself, he glanced at you before turning the corner. “Woah,” he stopped in his tracks before backing up back into the hallway and looking you over again. You must be new, he definitely would’ve remembered you if he had seen you before. You're too engrossed in the paper in your hands to notice someone coming up to you and leaning against the lockers. He puts on his cheesiest grin before getting your attention “Hey there,” you almost jump out of your skin as you drop your books.

· “Oh man I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Stu apologises as he crouches down and begins to pick up your things, you join him in picking up your books, “No don’t be, I should’ve been paying more attention,” you give him a soft smile before standing back up as he passes you some of your belongings, “You must be new, haven’t seen you around here,” you just nod before continuing, “actually, i’m having some trouble finding my class,” he looks over the schedule you had been engrossed in. “Oh that’s actually where I’m headed, I can take you if you’d like,” he couldn’t help but smile at the way you beamed up at him as you agreed.

· The walk was filled with Stu making you laugh, as you neared the class he seemed to slow down and began talking to you again. “You know, I’d be happy to show you to your other classes if you need help finding them after this?” you agreed and he walked into the class with you. A big smile on his face even after being reprimanded by your teacher. “I thought you weren’t coming,” Randy whispers to him, “Yeah something changed my mind,” he replied, not taking his eyes off you. Maybe this class was worth showing up to.

Vincent Sinclair:

· Vincent had been in the museum, positioning his newest artwork. He stared at it with a slight tilt of his head, questioning every stroke, every pose and every colour. He couldn’t help it, he knew he was good at what he did but insecurity still nagged at every decision he made. He was in his own world when the creak of the front door broke him out of his stupor. Bo had told him a small group of victims would be heading down to the museum while he worked on ‘finding’ a fan belt for them. Vincent was quick to move to his usual hiding spots to watch them.

· Vincent hated how loud this group was, joking and making fun of his art. “You have to be pretty sick to make any of this.” One of the guys spoke up, Vincent immediately started thinking of how he would hurt this man. It wasn’t until a softer voice spoke up that he noticed the girl trailing at the back of the group, “Come on guys, don’t be so rude. Someone must have put a lot of effort into these.” It was then that Vincent could finally make out your form, you seemed quiet even when speaking up for him, defending his work. Vincent wished he could get a better look at you. The man scoffed, “Okay art freak.” Vincent saw the way you practically flinched at the insult before turning away from the group to go and look at some other pieces.

· Vincent felt angry, the man would definitely suffer. He made his way closer to where you were, staying hidden as he watched you from afar. He could tell the insult had hurt you and this only made him angrier. You seemed to pause as you squinted closer to the art work on the wall, brushing some dust off the framing. “Vincent,” you read the signature to yourself with a small smile on your face, Vincent stilled when he heard you. He wasn’t sure what it was but something about hearing you say his name struck a chord in him. He was more than intrigued by you, he felt drawn to you in a way he had never felt before. He wasn’t sure what this meant but whatever it was he knew Bo wouldn’t like it.

[jellieland]

"You know," says Jimmy smugly, "I think second is the best spot to die in, actually."

"Really," says Mumbo, exasperated.

"Yes, I don't know what you're so happy about," says Lizzie. "You barely lasted ten minutes more than me."

"Doesn't matter. Not out first, baby!" He crows, triumphant, to the neverending void.

"And you killed me last session!"

"...Yes, I, uh, I'm sorry about that one. Sort of. Mostly," he says, momentarily cowed.

"I can't believe you people," says Lizzie. "They didn't have a funeral for me. I died first, and you got one, and they didn't even have a funeral for me!" She sounds indignant, but a look of genuine hurt crosses her face for a moment.

"I'm going to be honest, Lizzie," says Mumbo awkwardly. "I think they had bigger things to worry about. I- I think Joel was quite sad about it, though. If that helps?"

"I suppose it's better than nothing." She crosses her arms.

"But- wait, hang on. Jimmy?" says Mumbo abruptly. "Did you say you wanted to go out second?"

"No!" Jimmy protests. "I just think if you have to go out, then second is sort of ideal, really, if you think about it!"

"No!" says Mumbo, indignant. "No, surely third is better, actually! And to extend that logic, fourth would be better as well, and fifth, and- well, you get the idea. Anyway, my point is that I did better than both of you!"

"Hey, don't bring me into this!" says Lizzie.

"Anyway, you're wrong," says Jimmy, back to being smug again.

There is a short silence.

"You, uh. You gonna elaborate on that one, buddy?" asks Mumbo.

"Well," says Jimmy. "Obviously going out first is terrible. Would not recommend. I don't know why anyone would do it, honestly, I know I would never-"

"You're going on my list," says Lizzie, cheerfully.

"Wait wait wait, no, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I really am!"

"Hmm." Lizzie narrows her eyes. "Acceptable. For now."

A few moments pass.

"You may continue," she says.

"Right," says Jimmy. "What was I saying?"

"You were being wrong about how the ranking in this game works," offers Mumbo.

"No I wasn't!" says Jimmy. "Just, let me explain. Now, you obviously don't want to go out first, sorry Lizzie, but it's true."

"I will concede that point," says Lizzie. "It wasn't great."

"But—have you seen how they get?"

"How they... get?" Mumbo frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The people who don't die."

"I- now, I don't know if you remember this," says Mumbo, "But third is a new record for me, so I really don't know how you expect me to know that."

"Anyway," interjects Lizzie, "Mumbo and I have only done this once before. I mean, I guess people started losing it a bit once you two died, but it wasn't that much different to how it already had been. Although I wasn't around for that long at that point."

"Yes, but, it-" Jimmy frowns. "I haven't seen much of it either. But there's something- I don't know how to explain what I mean. Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's stuff with Grian, Scott, Pearl."

He stops, sighs. Looks at the ground.

"Martyn's going to be alone, now," he says.

"Well," says Lizzie, a little acerbic. "You don't have to have people die for that to happen, you know."

Jimmy gives her a look that is a combination of sheepishness and genuine regret. "Ah. Yeah. I guess not."

"So you're right," says Lizzie. "I don't know what you mean."

"...I did feel bad," says Jimmy, quietly.

"You... did?" asks Lizzie. "What about?"

Jimmy looks at her, then off to the side. "...When I killed you."

"Oh."

"I really didn't mean to," he says. "I felt bad. It wasn't satisfying. It was just... a person I cared about. Dead. Because of me. Because I acted without thinking, because I wasn't paying attention."

"...Oh." says Lizzie, softly.

"And that was when I knew you would come back," says Jimmy.

Lizzie and Mumbo exchange glances, unsure.

"I'm good with second," says Jimmy. "I think it's the closest you can get to winning, actually."

They stand there, silent, for some time.

"Well," says Mumbo eventually. "I still feel like third is a bit better, though."

"Mumbo!" cries Jimmy.

"Mumbo, come on, we were just having a moment!" says Lizzie.

"Yes well, look, I really need this, guys," says Mumbo, shifting his weight from side to side. "I don't know if you know this, but I've had a really bad day. It was just terrible!"

"I think we've all had pretty bad days, Mumbo!" says Lizzie, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we all died!"

"Yes, I- I had picked up on that, actually."

"I don't know," says Jimmy. "My day was great!"

They keep talking, and bickering, and the emptiness stretches off into the distance.

It's nice, not to have to be there alone.

[trickphotography2]

we can't be friends (but i'd like to just pretend)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x unnamed female!reader, callsign Ladybug (story from Jake's POV)

Word count: 12.8k (sorry, it's a really long one)

Synopsis: Jake's not entirely sure how the bet came about other than being too drunk and maybe a little bored at the Fourth of July party. But after shaking on it with Yale, he agrees to help the new WSO - Ladybug - out with her crush on Rooster and figure out how to get the two of them to the Navy Ball together. With four months to get it done, it'll be simple. But when the reserved aviator is harder to get to know than expected, Jake has to push her to get out of her own way.

Written for @sorchathered Rom-Com challenge, with a prompt of She's All That

Warning: This fic does include angst (mentions of drunk driving and the aftermath, PTSD, loss of consciousness, and toxic men) with fluff

18+, minors DNI

Crossposted on Ao3 | My Masterlist

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

The Hard Deck was busy for a Monday, which suited Jake just fine as long as he still had access to the dartboard and could flirt with some of the fresher faces while avoiding his previous mistakes. After a long day in the classroom, he was ready to let off some steam, and the pretty blonde thing by the bar looked like she’d do nicely. 

Downing the rest of his beer, he threw his last three darts, ending the game against Coyote with a decisive win and making his way to the bar. Yale and Omaha were there, but the rest of the Daggers were huddled by the pool table. As he passed, he could hear Phoenix telling everyone about the new WSO she was sponsoring that was finally arriving after her orders got pushed back - he still didn’t understand why she volunteered for the extra duty. Sponsors were great, but unless you had kids, getting established on a new base wasn’t hard - show up on time, figure out your housing, and report to command ASAP. There was no need to have someone hold your hand through the process. But that was just his opinion. If Phoenix wanted to spend her spare time being pen pals with folks moving to San Diego and running around to help them get settled, more power to her. 

Getting the blonde’s number was hardly a challenge, and she grinned at him while walking away to rejoin her friends. Jake motioned to Jimmy for another beer, and the older man quickly slid one over the counter. Moving closer to his fellow aviators, Jake leaned against the bar and surveyed the crowd. “Found yourself another tag chaser?” Yale chuckled, sipping his drink.

“Like shootin’ fish in a barrel,” Jake shrugged and smiled as the girl looked at him again. He threw a wink for good measure and saw how the friend group giggled.

The front door opened, and his eyes darted to the woman walking in. Even if she hadn’t been wearing her khakis, the god-awful birth control glasses that Bob also favored would have given her away as military. Jake let his gaze rake over the unfamiliar woman, clocking the double bars and wings as she looked around nervously. And then he heard Phoenix call out, and she looked up. 

Omaha looked up from his drink, tracking the woman as well. “Shit,” he hisses through his teeth before lifting his glass and taking a swig. “That’s Ladybug?” Twisting, Jake watched her reach Phoenix, who seemed to be introducing her to the rest of the crew.

“Ladybug?” Yale asked, straightening from where he leaned against the bar. His eyes tracked her as she moved, barely hiding a sneer behind his drink. 

“My new backseater,” Omaha sighed. Since Halo had gotten orders to Pensacola, the aviator had been waiting for his new WSO to arrive. 

“And would you look at that - girl’s swingin’ way out of her league.” Even from across the bar, Jake could see Ladybug blushing as she talked to Rooster and reached up to adjust her glasses. Phoenix, standing between them, caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow. Smirking, he turned away, his attention settling back on the table of women who weren’t subtle about their looking at him. Lifting his beer, he grinned around the mouth of the bottle before slapping the bar and pushing away from it.

“If you’ll excuse me, gents - looks like I’ve got an audience.” 

It was still early when he closed out his and Kristen’s tabs, and Jake reflexively looked back toward where the Daggers hung out. Most were still there, but he noted that Ladybug had already left. The scowl Phoenix shot him when she sensed his gaze let him know he’d get an earful tomorrow about not welcoming the new kid, but he’d deal with it.  

“Ready?” Kristen purred, running her hand up his back as she came alongside him. Grinning down at her, he nodded before signing his receipt and shoving his wallet into his back pocket.

“Let’s get outta here.” 

Weeks bled past, punctuated by a party at Payback’s for the Fourth of July. As the married man in the crew, the Fitch family was always happy to host.

And while Jake wasn’t purposefully keeping tabs on Ladybug - “Bug is fine,” she’d told everyone - he started to notice her absence more. While in the Ready Room, she often looked out the window and listened to the radio chatter while others played foosball and messed around. Omaha said she was good but missed Halo and joking around in the cockpit. Bob, Fanboy, and Phoenix seemed to be the only ones to get her to open up and crack a rare smile. She didn’t join them at lunch in the cafeteria or for drinks at the Hard Deck. 

And every time Rooster got near her, she got flustered. Her usual reserve and cool seemed to disappear, and she either clammed up or rambled. 

So, seeing her show up at the party with a fruit platter was surprising. Payback’s wife, Maria, quickly offered her a drink, and Bug joined Phoenix and her girlfriend, Kerri. From the grill, Jake watched as she mingled, and he wondered how she was wearing jeans on a day when the temperature was already reaching the mid-80s. Most of the other women had opted for shorts or summer dresses - god, he loved summer dress season - but Bug’s only concession to the heat seemed to be a short-sleeved shirt and occasionally pressing her cold soda can to her neck.

“I gotta ask,” Kerri said, her arm looping through Bug’s as they walked into the kitchen to grab food. “What’s the story behind Ladybug? Nat told me there’s always a story behind the callsign.” While assembling his burger, Jake found himself listening to their conversation.

“I, uh… I worked with a lot of…new… pilots when I was starting. There were a couple of close calls and,” she shrugged. “Ladybugs are good luck.” 

“Shit,” Rooster said, glancing up from spooning pasta salad onto his plate. He grinned, a sunburn already appearing on his face. “I remember you on the Ford now - you were the WSO with the kid just out of FRS who panicked when his landing gear got stuck and nearly skidded into the ocean.” 

Bug’s eyes were big behind her glasses as she flushed, pouring chips onto the table when she missed her plate. Quickly, she set the bag down and cleaned up her mess while muttering, “Yeah.” 

“Damn. That was a bad one - thought he was gonna ram the back of the carrier at first.” Rooster put down his plate and lifted his hands to demonstrate. “I heard the pilot started descent without realizing his front gear wasn’t down, missed the tailhook, and almost didn’t accelerate fast enough to recover. They circled and had to dump fuel while they got the barricades up, but they came in too low and nearly clipped the back of the ship before finally skidding in.” 

“Jesus!” Kerri said, looking at Bug. “Seriously?”

“It was his first carrier landing,” the woman replied with a shrug. “He got better.” 

“After we all had to sit through a lecture on the basics of landing,” Rooster smirked while grabbing his plate and throwing a wink at Bug, who flushed bright red. “Didn’t you both have to sit front and center for that one?”

“It was a good refresher.”

“He still flying?” Jake asked, biting into a carrot stick. Bug’s eyes flashed with something before her gaze dropped to her plate. 

“Not anymore,” she said softly, quickly heading back outside with her plain burger and a handful of chips. He and Rooster exchanged glances as Kerri got a worried look on her face. 

The drinks flowed, and Jake enjoyed himself as he hung out with his buddies. As fun as it was to have Mav around, it was also really nice when the soon-to-be-Admiral chose to hang out with his wife and stepdaughter, allowing the younger crowd to cut loose. Payback and Maria had already offered anyone who'd drank too much a safe space to crash, and Jake would take advantage of it. He and Yale went shot-for-shot in beer pong, and his tongue was red from the jello shots he’d consumed. 

“She’s delusional,” Yale slurred, punching Jake’s arm and pointing to where Bug and Rooster were chatting. “Not hot ‘nough to pull an aviator.”

“She’s an aviator too, dick,” Jake rolled his eyes, watching as Bug pressed her cold soda can to her throat. The movement shifted her shirt, and he could see that she had the beginning of a sunburn on her arms. Squinting, he stared at the raised red line that reached the middle of her bicep, and, as though feeling his gaze, she looked at him. Her eyes darted down to her arm, and she quickly adjusted her sleeve to hide it, her face flushing. 

“Oooh, Hangman’s gotta crush on Bug!” He rolled his eyes at the immaturity, sipping his beer and anticipating the hangover he’d have in the morning for mixing alcohol. 

“You’re drunk. She’s a decent WSO and keeps Omaha’s dumbass alive.” And that was true. As much as he never wanted a backseater, he couldn’t help but notice how methodical Bug was. She was the first on the flight line doing her pre-flight checks, talking to the flight crew and mechanics about anything that felt off in the jet. She took thorough notes during a mission brief and conferred with the other WSOs to triple-check things before heading out. He knew that Mav was keeping an eye on her, probably vetting her for a reference to a test program. 

The conversation shifted, and Jake could feel his tongue getting looser the more he drank. That was how he was somehow talked into a dumb bet - that Bug would catch Rooster’s eye and go to the Navy Ball with him. 

And Jake would help.

Bug left the party before night fell, missing the impressive fireworks and sparklers they set off in the front yard. They had to brush debris from their hair and use the hose to put out minor fires in the grass, but thankfully, the only injuries were minor burns.

As he lay on Payback’s couch, Jake closed one eye to stop the room from spinning when his phone started going off. He ignored the few messages asking what he was doing and if he wanted to come over, wishing he was sober enough to drive home instead of listening to Yale’s snoring. 

As much as Jake wanted to forget his drunken bet with Yale, the other pilot was adamant they followed through because he’d shaken on it. And, never one to back down from a challenge, he reluctantly agreed. 

His first step was reconnaissance. With four months until the Navy Ball, he knew he had enough time to enact his plan once he figured it out. He knew Rooster and the type of women he usually dated. And it wasn’t that Bug was unattractive, just that she seemed not to give a shit what she looked like. Which wasn’t great because Rooster usually dated women who did. They wouldn’t have been caught dead in public without a perfect face of makeup, while Bug seemed content with eyeliner, not even bothering to hide the pimples that occasionally decorated her face. The few times he saw her off duty, she favored comfortable clothes over cute, and he never saw her hair out of anything but the regulation bun or a ponytail. 

However, Jake's most significant obstacle was her confidence. While Bug had no problems with her confidence regarding her job, the moment the conversation strayed outside anything to do with work, she seemed anxious. And if she was going to get Rooster’s attention, that would need to change. 

The first thing he had to do, though, was to gain her trust. Without that, she wouldn’t hear him out on any of his suggestions.

Which was why he found himself approaching her at lunch after seeing her sitting outside at one of the few tables under the trees that the smokers usually used during breaks. She looked down at her phone, occasionally tapping the screen as she picked at her lunch. “Mind if I join you?” Jake asked, not bothering to wait for her answer before tossing his heated-up chicken and rice onto the table and sitting. Bug gave him a surprised look but returned her attention to her phone, eyes occasionally flicking toward him as he ate and watched her finish her apples, cheese, and crackers. She blushed every time their eyes met, and he noticed she wasn’t tapping her phone as much. He was about to say something when she frowned, tossed her apple back into her lunch container, and tucked the phone to her ear.

“Hey, gimme a second.” With a tight smile, Bug gathered her things and shoved them into her lunch bag, slipping it over her arm before standing and walking away. 

Jake tried again the next day, only to find that Bug wasn’t at the table. Instead, he saw her walking around the building with her headphones in, her flight suit tied around her waist, and one of her sleeves pushed up. On the third day, he beat her to the table and saw her pause when she caught sight of him. “I don’t bite, Bug,” he called out and saw her shoulders tense. Her gaze was guarded as she trudged to the table and sat, not saying a word as she pulled out her container of apples, cheese, and crackers with flavored water. His eyes darted over her meal as she opened the container. “So what’d’ya think about the new group of trainees?”

Her hand froze as she dug in her pocket, eyes slowly lifting to meet his. “They’re cocky.” Her answer made him smirk as he reached across the table to grab a hunk of cheese from her lunch. “Hey!”

“We were all cocky when we got here. The instructors and Adversary students will beat it outta them.” Bug gave him an incredulous look as he popped the cheese in his mouth and grinned. 

“Clearly, they didn’t beat it out of everyone.” The steely look she gave him was the most animated he’d seen her. She slapped the back of his hand when he reached for a cracker. “You have your own lunch, Hangman.” 

“That’s not a lunch, Bug, that’s a kid’s snack. You need protein.” She ignored him and pulled out her phone, tapping on the screen. Chuckling, he opened his lunchbox and took out his meal, stirring the chicken and rice together. He watched her as he ate, smirking every time he caught her glancing at him and noting the rising blush on her cheeks. “Why do you hide out here?” he asked. 

“I hardly think sitting outside the office is hiding,” came her clipped response. 

“It is if you’re avoiding your squad.” 

“Maybe I just like peace and quiet while I’m eating.” 

“And scrolling social media.” 

“I’m not - ” Bug lowered her phone enough for him to glance at the screen, seeing it covered in text. “I just like to read in silence, okay? Do you mind?” Jake shrugged and didn’t say anything for a few minutes until he finished eating, his fork clattering in the glass container as he tossed it down. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“What are you reading?” 

“A book.” 

“Is it any good?”

“It’s hard to tell when someone keeps interrupting me.” 

“What type is it?” 

“An e-book.”

“No,” he chuckled. “History? Non-fiction? Biography?” The faded blush roared back, and she refused to meet his gaze. His grin grew as he asked, “Is it a sex book?”

Bug locked her phone and set it face down on the table. Crossing her arms over her chest, she lifted her chin, lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you want, Hangman?” 

“Nothin’. Just trying to get to know my new squadmate.” 

“You don’t have to know me,” she snapped, shoving her things into her lunch bag. “I already have a sponsor and a pilot.” Startled by her response and the tears glistening in her eyes, he pushed to his feet as she stood.

“Bug - ”

“Just leave me alone, Hangman.” 

For as close as the squad worked together, Bug was good at holding herself apart from the team. After slipping a note into her locker with a quickly jotted ‘Sorry’ and feeling like he’d regressed to high school, Jake left her alone. Losing a bet wasn’t worth being an asshole and causing a rift in team dynamics. 

But while she was ignoring him, it was good to see that she was at least talking to Phoenix. And, every once in a while, Rooster, who still seemed oblivious to her crush. Jake tried not to look at Yale whenever the two interacted, not wanting to see the mocking eye-roll the other aviator would send his way. The way she’d blushed and tripped over her boots when Rooster patted her shoulder after a run where Omaha managed to get tone on him with her guidance was enough for Yale to go on a ten-minute tear about her at the Hard Deck.

Jake had walked away. He hadn’t even stayed long enough to pick someone up and went back to his apartment, wondering what the hell Yale had against Bug.

An August rainstorm drove Bug inside to the cafeteria, and Bob waved her over to join them. The only seat left was between Jake and Rooster, and she reluctantly settled between them and opened her salad. Jake was happy to see bits of grilled chicken in it but forced himself not to say anything. He was relieved that Yale, Harvard, and Fritz had decided to go to the food court for lunch so he wouldn’t have to witness how Bug kept herself apart, how she picked at her food, and how her eyes were downcast. When Phoenix mentioned the upcoming beach trip, she didn’t hear the offer to join until Rooster nudged her, brow furrowing in concern. 

“Yeah, sure,” she murmured, not seeming to realize what she agreed to. 

Later, when they were in the desk farm, Jake saw Bug jump out of her seat and leave quickly, phone pressed to her ear.

And Yale glared at her while looking up from his phone.

Bug needs help and you’re the closest. Here’s her address.

Jake stared at his phone as he sat at a red light. Halfway to the beach, he quickly flicked his blinker to pull a U-turn and head back toward his house. Bug only lived a few streets away from him, in one of the apartment complexes that had gone up over the last year.

He spotted her standing by her car, phone pressed to her ear and lower lip between her teeth. Jake frowned when he drove behind her, seeing the tilted vehicle. Rather than pulling into a spot, he parked behind her and hopped out to see that two tires were slashed. Her eyebrows rose behind her glasses when she saw him, and she quickly spun to avoid his concerned gaze, her floor-length floral skirt fluttering. 

“Whatever is closest, I don’t care,” she said, and he could hear the barely constrained tears in her voice. “Yeah, two tires…. Alright, thank you.” He crouched and ran his finger over the puncture mark on the back tire, glancing up to see that Bug’s shoulders were up by her ears. 

“You alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I told Phoenix that I didn’t need anyone here.” 

“Someone slashed your tires.”

“It happened to a few people last night,” she shrugged, slowly turning to face him. “It’s an annoyance, but nothing I can’t handle on my own.” 

“Was that the insurance company?” 

“Yeah. They’re going to tow it to a garage for me.”

“Alright, how long are they gonna be?”

“They said an hour, which probably means two. You should go and enjoy the beach.” 

“I’m not going, Bug. Did you call the police?” 

“They’re the ones who let me know it happened. One of my neighbors called them after he came out and saw his slashed.”

“So you’ve got the report number?” When she nodded, he ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, I’m gonna move my truck.” 

“Hangman, I’m serious - ”

“So am I. I can sit in my truck or wait by your car, or we can go inside, but I’m not leaving until they get your car. And then we can go to the beach.” 

“I’m not going to the beach.”

“We’ll see.” Bug’s lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms, hip cocking to one side. He smiled at the sight, eyes snagging on the red scar on her arm. With his sunglasses on, she didn’t notice.

Her apartment was nice, in the ‘recently moved in and haven’t fully unpacked’ way. As she grabbed some water, he looked at the cart of books sitting by her couch. One caught his eye, and he flipped to a random page. 

Patroclus is breathing harder than the effort to hold our princess down requires, and his cock is so stiff, it’ll be a fucking miracle if he doesn’t come just from foreplay. It’s fine if he does. We have all of tonight and tomorrow. 

“What are you doing?” 

Jake looked up from the book and grinned, holding it so the cover faced her. “I didn’t realize you were reading porn at lunch.” 

“It’s not porn,” she snapped, reaching for the book. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he held the book higher and read aloud. 

“I plan on tucking these two in for some rest after I fuck the worry out - oof!” He doubled over when her fist collided with his stomach, not enough to hurt but to startle him. Face bright red, Bug snatched the book from his hand and returned it to the cart, standing protectively in front of it. “That’s definitely porn,” Jake chuckled. “Good for you. Didn’t take you for a threesome kinda girl - ”

Bug let out a strangled sound before she lunged forward to press her hands to his mouth. “Will you shut the fuck up, Hangman?” Fighting back the urge to lick her palm, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand from his mouth, unable to keep from grinning. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Bug. I won’t tell anyone that you avoid talking to us so you can spend your lunch reading sexy - ”

“Thanks for stopping by; now get the hell out of my house,” she cut him off, ripping her hand out of his hold and pressing it to his shoulder, trying to turn him toward the door. He shook her off, choosing to collapse onto the couch instead. She glared at him briefly before sighing heavily as he reached for one of the water glasses she’d dropped onto the coffee table. Sitting on the opposite side, she grabbed the other glass and ran her thumb through the condensation already forming on the sides. “You really don’t have to stay. The tow driver’ll take care of my car, and I don’t feel like going to the beach after this.”

“‘M startin’ to get the feeling that you don’t like us, Ladybug.” While his tone was teasing, Jake meant every word. “You don’t eat with us, you won’t go to the Hard Deck, and now you’re avoiding a beach day? Those are pretty much mandatory for the squadron.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, and Bug’s teeth dug into her lower lip. “I… I don’t dislike you guys. I just… there’s a lot of stuff that - ” Her cell started vibrating on the coffee table. Jake’s eyes shot to it, catching the name RISK and seeing a picture of a guy in a flight suit, smirking up at the camera and flipping it off. Bug snatched the phone up, eyes darting toward him. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Quickly, she stood while answering it and walking toward her bedroom. “Hey, how’s it - ”

The door closed, muffling her voice. Jake stared at it momentarily before pushing to his feet and walking to the fridge to get a refill. While the rest of the apartment was pretty bare, the refrigerator was covered in magnets from across the world, puns about books, a few bills, and a couple of pictures. He recognized the man from her phone screen as the one with one arm around Bug and her head on his shoulder as they sat in the shadow of an F-18’s wing, hair a tangled mess with her helmet between her knees and a pair of glasses with brown frames perched on her nose. They were there in a group, Bug laughing while sitting on his shoulders and his fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady at an outdoor concert, the hem of her dress sitting on his head. There were pictures of a softball team, Bug grinning with a bat resting on her bare shoulder.

And Jake realized it was the first time he’d seen her smile like that. 

That thought irked him. And it definitely didn’t make him pay more attention to the calendar hanging in the kitchen. Sipping his water, his eyes darted over her small, neat handwriting, and his brows furrowed. Risk’s PT. Deposition. PCP follow-up. Chiro follow-up. FS reassessment. 

When the bedroom door opened, he was back on the couch, reading one of Bug’s books. Her eyes were red when she stepped out, and he clocked the fake smile. “Tow truck driver just called and said he’s pulling in.” When her eyes landed on the book in his hand - the Kiss Quotient - color rose in her pale cheeks. 

“Good timing. We’ll get that taken care of and head out. Harvard’s already texted me a list of things people forgot, so we’ll grab those at the store on the way.” 

“Hangman - ”

“Bug.” It was his turn to cut her off, the playful tone absent in his voice. “Come on. Give us a chance. If nothing else, Rooster’ll be there.” 

“Why would - ”

“I’m borrowing this, by the way,” he added, raising the book and tucking it under his arm while walking to slip on his shoes.

“What? No - you don’t want - ” The front door shut behind him, and Jake couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard Bug open the door and call for him to stop. He ignored it, going to greet the tow truck driver. 

It was hard not to pay attention to Bug after that day at the beach. She’d declined every offer to play a game, instead sitting on her towel and reading. She didn’t even change into a bathing suit - choosing to wear that long skirt that covered all but the tops of her feet and a t-shirt that gave her a farmer’s tan. The most skin she showed was a flash of ankle when she walked along the water with Kerri, pausing to pick up shells occasionally as Rooster and Phoenix trailed them. Jake tried not to pay too much attention when, on the way back, Kerri and Phoenix pulled ahead, leaving Rooster and Bug walking side by side and chatting.  

But she stayed through the late afternoon retreat to the Hard Deck, sipping cranberry juice and ginger ale. When she stood beside Rooster as he pulled his usual party trick of playing the piano, Jake tried not to notice how her skirt and his hideous Hawaiian shirt almost matched and pay attention to the woman chatting him up. He saw Bug looking at her phone a few times but only slipped away twice before calling it a night. She declined his offer to drive her home when he managed to shake off the woman - Jackie? - for a few minutes, and said goodbye to everyone instead of disappearing as usual. 

And now that he was watching, he noticed how frequently she left work early on days they weren’t in the air. The occasional wince when she turned too quickly to look at something, and how she sometimes favored her left side toward the end of the day. The handful of over-the-counter painkillers she took after they did PT and drove home before hitting the showers. 

She didn’t join them at lunch every day, but she started to make appearances, even though she mostly stayed quiet and frequently left to answer a phone call before the end of the break. And Jake found himself seeking her out at the smoker’s table. After he returned her book, teasing her mercilessly about the explicit sex scenes in the story, she just put in her headphones and flipped him the bird before going for a walk. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but the book had been hot. And it made him wonder what else Bug was reading, face blank as she sat across from him. 

The only one who seemed unhappy about the change was Yale. Jake caught the aviator watching her through narrowed eyes a handful of times and noticed how she went out of her way to avoid him. When he asked Bug about it, she just shrugged and changed the topic. 

The only activity she had yet to do was a night at the Hard Deck, so Jake found himself standing at her front door, grinning at her confused expression. “We’re going out,” he said, reaching over her head to open the door wider and inviting himself inside. 

“What? No, bra hours are done.” Laughing, he kicked off his shoes and spun, planting his hands on his hips. She crossed her arms over her chest, making the thin material of her t-shirt cling to the swell of her breasts and a thin strip of skin appear over the waistband of her sweatpants. 

“Come on, Bug. You need to do a Hard Deck night with us. Everyone’s gonna be there in a few, and it’ll be fun.” When she stared at him, he forced his smile to not falter. “You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun the two times you’ve been there before.” 

“I…” she paused and took a deep breath, eyes pinching behind her glasses. “I appreciate the invitation, Hangman, but I want a quiet night. I’m exhausted and - ”

“Just a couple of hours. Have a few drinks, play some pool, and then I’ll bring you home. Promise.” The longer he looked at her, the more his smile faltered. So he played his ace - “Rooster’ll be there.” 

Her brows knit together for a moment before her expression cleared. “I’ll give you one hour,” she sighed.

“Three.”

“I’m not putting my bra back on for three hours. Two or no deal.” 

“You’ve got it. As long as you wear something other than jeans.” 

“What’s wrong with jeans?” she demanded, squeaking in protest when he pushed past her into her bedroom. He flicked on the light, glancing quickly at her unmade bed and rumpled sheets before moving toward her closet. “Do you even know what boundaries are?” 

He quickly flicked past her flight suits and uniforms, finding what he was looking for in the back of her closet. Grabbing the hanger, he grinned while turning to see Bug’s scowl. “Wear this,” Jake said, trying to hand her the hanger holding a sundress. She stared at it, eyes slowly raising to meet his.

“No.” 

“Come on.” 

“No.”

“You’ll look hot in it.” 

“I’m wearing jeans or nothing.”

“Not sure why you’d be naked instead of wearing a dress, but I’m not opposed.” She blushed, shaking her head. 

“Goodnight, Hangman. Thanks for stopping by, but I’m tired.” Jake sighed her name, making her eyebrows shoot up. He’d never called her that before, and he wasn’t sure why he did it now. She was always Bug or Ladybug. 

“Wear the dress. Come out and have fun with your friends. Please?” Their gazes met, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. And, after a long moment, she reached out to take the hanger. Their fingers brushed, and he tried to keep his eyes trained on hers but couldn’t help but notice how her breathing had increased. The slight tightness around her mouth as she blinked quickly. And the subtle way her body trembled. 

“I-I’m going to jump in the shower.” 

When the bathroom door closed, Jake had the urge to knock on it and tell her she didn’t have to wear the damn dress. That she could go in her sweatpants and he wouldn’t care. That he was an idiot for asking, Yale’s reminder about their bet ringing in his ears as he drove past her street. She didn’t have to wear a damn dress to get Rooster’s attention, and she shouldn’t have a crush on a guy who was so oblivious.

Instead, he walked back to the kitchen, opened the cupboards until he found a glass, and helped himself to some water. He stared at that picture of Bug on the man’s shoulders. Her eyes nearly closed behind her glasses with how broadly she smiled, one hand holding a cowgirl hat to her head, the other thrown out to keep herself steady with a beer clutched in her hand. 

Jake couldn’t believe that Rooster wouldn’t remember a girl like that. Even without the makeup and smiles, there was no mistaking Bug. Behind those birth control glasses, he could still see glimpses of that woman in the WSO. And it bothered him not to know what had happened to dim that shine. 

He was a few chapters into another book he’d plucked off the cart when he heard the shower turn off, the blow dryer starting a few minutes later. Jake glanced at his phone to check the time, ignoring the texts asking where he was and if he was going to the Hard Deck. Instead, he set his phone beside him. He settled on the couch, leaning against the arm and making himself comfortable as he read about a group of guys who got together and read romance books to save their relationships. 

Jake was lost in Gavin and Thea’s story when he heard a throat clear. Sitting up quickly, he spun in his seat, jaw nearly dropping at the sight of Bug. But not his Bug - the Bug from the picture, standing in her doorway with a teasing smirk on her red lips and uncertainty in her eyes. She shifted under his open admiration, hand lifting to adjust the glasses that she wasn’t wearing. “Let me guess, you’re gonna borrow that one too?” 

“I…uh… yeah,” he nodded, moving to stand before her. She hadn’t pulled her hair back into its usual bun or ponytail, leaving it down so it curled against her shoulders. Jake let his gaze dance down her body, and Bug’s shoulders pulled back under his blatant inspection, inadvertently drawing his attention to her breasts pressing against the sweetheart neckline of her dress. When she crossed her arms, his attention went to the raised red scar on her right arm, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and tracing it with his fingertips. It was about the width of a pencil, curling from the top of her shoulder to the middle of her bicep. Sensing her discomfort, he tore his gaze away, allowing it to drift lower. Her dress skimmed the top of her knees, and he bit back a groan at seeing cowboy boots on her feet, red scars decorating the skin on display. 

Bug’s hand was clenched tightly around a jean jacket, and Jake could feel the discomfort radiating off her. But she met his eyes when they lifted. He wasn’t a makeup expert, but he could appreciate how her eyeshadow and winged eyeliner complemented her eyes, and he found it heartening that he could still see the little divot on her nose from her glasses. “Can you even see without your BCGs?” Jake asked after clearing his throat. 

The apprehension drained from her face at his gentle teasing, and Bug scoffed while rolling her eyes. “I hate wearing contacts, but I’ll put up with it for a couple of hours.” Shaking his head, he reached for her jacket and took it, holding it out to help her slip it on. His fingers accidentally grazed her neck, and he caught the subtle scent of something floral when she turned toward him. His eyes went to her lips like they were a painted target, and her voice was a little breathier than usual when she spoke. “I’ll meet you there?” 

“I’ll drive,” he answered, voice husky as he stepped back.

“I’ll drive so you can have a couple of drinks.”

He shook his head, digging into his jeans pocket for his keys. “You can be my WSO tonight and pick the music, but I’m driving.” That made her roll her eyes, and Jake had to force himself not to stare at her ass as she walked in front of him out of the apartment and down to his waiting truck.

In the dark interior of his truck, he could smell her perfume and gripped the shifter to keep from placing his hand on the expanse of her thigh that flashed in every streetlight they drove under. Seemingly oblivious to his struggle, she sang along to a 90s station about kissing in the moonlight. 

And, once they were outside the Hard Deck, she paused, her hand slipping into his for a fleeting moment. He could feel her shaking and squeezed her fingers before she let him go and stepped into the bar. 

Everyone would have paused to witness the not-improved-by-different Bug if it had been a movie. But no one seemed to notice them enter, and Jake reclaimed her hand to help tow her through the weekend crowd to where he knew the Daggers would be waiting. And that was where Bug got the recognition she deserved, when Kerri catcalled her, making a flush rise on her cheeks as Phoenix’s girlfriend took her hand and dragged her from Jake, encouraging her to do a little twirl. He saw a couple of glances at her scars, but thankfully, no one said anything. 

And Jake spent the night catching men checking her out, but Bug remained oblivious. When he went to the bar to get them some sodas - he overheard a conversation from two pilots about not recognizing her. “Now that’s the Bug I remember,” Rooster said as he joined him at the counter, setting down his empty beer bottle. Jake glanced at his wingman and nodded as they watched her laugh at something Omaha said to her and Fanboy. 

“Hey, Jake,” a somewhat familiar voice said, and he felt a hand on his lower back. A woman slid into the vacant spot beside him, smiling coyly. “Long time no see. Wanna buy me a drink and catch up?” 

For his life, he couldn’t put a name to her face, but he was pretty sure they’d slept together. Beside him, Rooster snorted and ordered his beers. Jake tore his gaze away from the woman and caught Penny before she left. “I’ll get two Cokes, please.”

“That’s not my usual,” she giggled.

“No, it’s my friend’s,” he replied. He shouldn’t have enjoyed the shocked look on her face, but he felt relieved when her hand lifted, and she disappeared into the crowd. 

But when he looked over to see what Bug was up to, she’d also disappeared. When he returned to the group, Bob said she’d stepped onto the patio to take a phone call. Jake sipped his soda and tried not to keep glancing at his watch, but his eyes darted to the back door. Yale arrived, pressing a beer bottle into his hand as they played darts, and he didn’t think before drinking it. 

Forty minutes had passed when he finally decided to look for her. The late September night was still relatively warm, but it was breezy by the water. The laughs were loud on the patio, but he didn’t see her at the tables. The parking lot lights spilled out onto the beach, and Jake caught sight of a flash of color in the corner of his eyes. His feet moved before he realized it, shoes sliding in the soft sand. As he neared, he could see Bug had removed her boots, her forearm across her raised knees as she curled into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. “It’s okay, Risk,” her voice was soft, and he could hear her sniffle. The sound made him move faster, shrugging off his bomber jacket as he neared. 

Sensing his approach, Bug lifted her head, and his heart broke at the sight of tears on her cheeks as she talked on the phone. In the weak moonlight, he mouthed, “You okay?” She looked at him for a long moment before shaking her head, letting her forehead drop back onto her arm. Jake hesitated a heartbeat before draping his jacket across her shoulders and sitting beside her. The sand was cool, and he rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his wrist and trying not to listen to Bug’s call over the crash of the waves. 

“Risk, I… yeah. But it’s getting… I need to…” she heaved a weary sigh, digging her nails into her shoulder. “I’m going to go, alright? We can talk tomorrow and… I told you, I'm with some friends toni - ” The voice on the other side of the line got loud, and she lifted her head to swipe at her eyes. “No, I’m not fucking any of them, Risk.” The words made his blood boil, but Bug just sounded so tired. “I’ll talk to you - alright, good… I know you’re upset, but I ne - please don’t say that…Risk, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.” 

They were silent for a long time, the only sounds were Bug’s occasional sniffles and the tide coming in. A weight hit his bicep, and Jake turned to see that she’d rested her head on his shoulder. He lifted his arm, tugging her closer. She was trembling, and he knew it wasn’t from the cold. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he didn’t push. 

“Risk is…was,” Bug said, voice rough with suppressed emotion, “my pilot before I got here. W-we were really close.” It was on the tip of his tongue to say that didn’t give him a right to say that to her, but her next words froze him. “We were in a bad car accident coming h-home from my going away party.”

“How bad?” Jake asked, not wanting to know the answer. 

“Bad. We were t-boned by a drunk driver and - ” she gasped, letting him pull her closer when she started to shake. “Rolled a few times.” Her hand lifted to touch her temple. “I woke up, and everything was upside down. I hit my head so hard that my glasses broke. But I was lucky. Just had a concussion and cuts from crawling out of the glass. Risk wasn’t… he…he was turned to look at me when  we got hit, and he took the brunt of it.” 

“Is he okay?” 

Bug shook her head, tears dripping off her face as she stared at the water, her voice sounding distant. “Paralyzed from his chest down. The docs think he might get some feeling back, but he’ll never walk again. Never fly again. They’re med boarding him out for that and the TBI.”

“Fuck.”

“One minute we were having drinks and he was telling me he was in love with me, and the next everything was literally upside down.” It was his turn to tense.

“D-did… do you love him?”

“Like a brother.” Jake nodded, pushing away the feeling of relief at her words. His heart cracked when he heard her soft sob. “He’s so angry with me. He doesn’t remember the crash, but I do. I think I was conscious for the first two rolls, and…he was so still. I thought he died. I thought I’d lost my best friend and couldn’t do anything to help him.” Acting on instinct, he pulled her into his arms, her knees digging into the sand by his hips as he held her. He could feel her warm tears on his neck as his hand swept her back, holding her tightly. 

But while he half expected her to fall to pieces, Bug just let out these little hiccupping sobs that broke his heart. “I’ve gotcha,” he said, whispering her name as his lips brushed her hair. 

“I should have let them ground me.” The words were so quiet he would have missed them if they weren’t so close. “I had to leave the day after he woke up. I stayed as long as I could, Hangman, I swear. But the flight surgeon cleared me for duty, and I had orders. I had to come here.” 

“You had orders,” he echoed. “He can’t blame you for that.” When she nodded, he repeated himself. “He can’t blame you for that, Bug.”

“He feels like I abandoned him. That I left my wingman. I-I figured you all would feel the same way… Yale does.” 

“What does Yale have to do with this?” 

“He was in our squadron before he got stationed here.” A chill ran down Jake’s spine, bits of information slotting into place. It was quickly replaced with anger. 

Gently, he pulled away from Bug until he could meet her watery gaze. Her eyes were guarded, exhaustion etched in every feature as he ran his thumb across her cheeks to try and clear away the mess of her makeup. “You did nothing wrong, honey. And no one can blame you for what happened - the accident or you being here. Understood?” When her eyes lowered, unable to meet his, he cupped her cheek and raised her head. “Understood?” 

“Did you drink?” His stomach dropped, tasting the beer Yale had given him on his tongue, smelling it on his breath. 

“Just one.” Bug nodded, bracing her hands on his shoulders and pushing to her feet. It took everything in him not to stop her, his hands sliding to her hips as she looked down at him.

“I’m gonna get a car.”

“I can drive - ”

“No.” He let his hands fall to the sand, hating himself for forgetting his promise. “It’s fine. You should stay and have fun.” 

As much as it killed him, he waited with her in the parking lot for her car to arrive, wanting to pull her into his arms but resisting the urge. But when she tried to give him his jacket, he pushed it back into her hands. “I’ll get it later and grab yours before I leave.”

Bug nodded, saying as she slid into the backseat, “Thanks for tonight, Hangman.” He waited until the tail lights had pulled out of the parking lot before turning and making his way into the Hard Deck. 

He wanted to get the hell out of there and pushed his way to the counter to close out his tab. Bug’s jacket was by the pool tables, and he threw down the pen to retrieve it after signing his receipt. Fury rose in him as he spotted Yale laughing with Harvard and Omaha. Without thinking, he stalked toward him, shoving the other aviators out of the way to grab him by his collar and pushed until Yale’s back hit the wall. Jake ignored the ‘Hey!’s and ‘Whoa!’s, the hands trying to pull him away as he leaned close to hiss, “You leave her the fuck alone, hear me? Leave her alone, or I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” 

Hands curled around him, yanking him away, and Rooster banded an arm around his chest while Harvard stepped between them, holding back his pilot. The bar quieted in anticipation of a fight, but Jake only had eyes for Yale, who grinned. “Finally told you, huh? So much for never leaving a man behind.” 

Rooster pulled hard, Payback catching his arm when he raised his fist. “Come on, man,” Rooster grunted, hauling him away. “It’s not worth it.” 

He grit his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose as he shook off the other men. Grabbing Bug’s jacket, he stormed out of the bar, avoiding Penny and Mav’s gaze and the whispers that followed. 

Bug’s jacket sat on his front seat as Jake drove into work on Monday. He’d texted to check on her over the weekend, but she told him she was okay and didn’t want to see anyone. His phone had been blown up with the other Daggers trying to figure out what happened on Friday, but Jake didn’t know how to tell them without sharing Bug’s story - and that wasn’t his to tell. 

The morning briefing was short, and they were dismissed to the Ready Room to prepare for their flights. Jake was going up in the first group. But before he headed out to the flight line, he stopped Bug on her way out of the classroom. “I’m fine,” she said, answering his unasked question. He could see the dark circles under her eyes and the silent request for him to not say anything. So he didn’t. Other than telling her that her jacket was in his car, Jake asked if she’d brought lunch or a kid’s snack. That earned him a tired smile, and she said she would have to buy lunch today. 

But they wouldn’t get that opportunity.

Bug went up in the second group, and Jake listened to the radio chatter while lounging on the couch. He was happy to have gotten tone on Yale and Harvard, pulling riskier moves that Cyclone wasn’t pleased with, but it had been definitely worth it to hear the asshole cursing him over the mic. 

Their flight started routine enough, and Jake was helping himself to a cup of coffee when he noted a change in Bug’s tone. “Hey Omaha, you with me?” she asked after he’d pulled a quick roll into a dive to avoid Fritz’s attempt to lock on them, climbing to regain altitude as they neared the hard deck. “Omaha?”

“Omaha, come in,” Fritz echoed. “Bug, his radio out?” Even though they were out of sight, flying over the desert, Jake’s eyes flicked to the window.

“Negative, radio’s fine. Omaha?” He could hear the tension in her voice. 

“Shit - level wings, Omaha.”

“He’s out!” 

“Inbound,” Rooster called. The Ready Room was silent, and Jake didn’t realize he’d moved closer to the radio until he felt the volume dial in his fingers, cranking it higher. 

“Bug - status?” the tower called. 

“Losing altitude. Fuck!” Hot coffee splashed over his hand as Jake squeezed the paper cup, and he quickly set it down, shaking away the burning liquid at the sound of her panic. 

“Omaha, recover!” the tower yelled. “Someone give me details. 

“55 nose low, 67 bank,” Fanboy called out. 

“They’re diving,” Phoenix breathed. Jake felt a hand on his shoulder but couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but listen to Bug’s panting breath over the radio. 

“Come on, Omaha,” Payback barked. 

And then Jake heard it - Bitchin’ Betty telling Omaha to pull up. “Punch out,” he whispered. His hand itched for the throttle and stick, adrenaline racing as he pictured the dive. As a backseater, Bug was helpless. There was no stick, no throttle. Just the radar, letting her know how close to the ground they were. Their speed. It was her pilot’s job to keep her safe. He was vaguely aware of Coyote coming up beside him, probably reliving his G-LOC blackout just a year ago. 

“Tone,” Fritz called. 

“8G, mach,” Fanboy called. “Alt 500.” They were nose down, headed toward the ground at the speed of sound. 

“Recover, Omaha!” Rooster yelled. But then one voice drowned all the rest, a scream that Jake would hear in his nightmares for years.

“Neil!” 

“Climbing,” Fanboy called.

“Back, I’m back,” Omaha panted. “Fuck.” 

“Knock off,” the tower ordered, scrubbing the rest of the exercise. “Alright, Omaha, climb back above 12,000.” 

“Payback, knockoff.”

“Fritz, knockoff.”

“Fuck, Bug, you good?” Rooster’s question went unanswered, so he repeated it. “Bug, status?” 

“Bug?” Omaha said. 

“9K and climbing,” came her shaky voice. 

“Rooster, knockoff. See you on the ground.”

“You good?” Coyote asked.

Twenty-seven seconds. Omaha had been out for the longest twenty-seven seconds of Jake’s life. 

“She’s good, Hangman,” Phoenix said. But he didn’t hear it. He focused on the radio, listening to the tower guide everyone back in. Rooster refused to land before Omaha, wanting to keep an eye on everything from the air. The room emptied, and he stayed there until Omaha alerted the tower that he was in the landing position. 

And then he bolted, sprinting past the others to the tarmac, barely restraining himself from running to the jet as Omaha landed and taxied. It took ages for the engines to stop and the canopy to lift. There wasn’t any movement for a long moment until Omaha stood, turning to look at his WSO. He extended his arm, and Jake was relieved to see her arm reach up to bump fists. His breath was sawing in and out of his chest as he raced toward her, barely skidding to a halt as the two embraced as soon as their boots hit the tarmac. “So fuckin’ sorry, Bug,” Omaha breathed. “Never happened before, and it - ”

“Are you alright?” Jake demanded, forcing himself not to shove the other man away, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to draw deep breaths. 

“We’re good,” Omaha answered.

“Are you alright?” Jake demanded again, gaze not leaving Bug’s wide eyes. Her face was damp, and he could see the imprint of her mask on her pale face, but otherwise, she seemed fine. 

“We’re good,” she repeated, her voice steady. But when he pulled her into his arms, he could feel that she was shaking hard and smelled the sharp scent of sweat. He was vaguely aware of the others arriving, their questions going unanswered as Bug rested her helmeted head on his shoulder, hiding her face from them.

“I’ve gotcha.” He didn’t want to let her go, but he knew they needed to make their way to medical. She and Omaha would need to be checked out and debriefed. Eventually, she pulled away and looked up at him, and Jake made himself give her a reassuring smile as he reached to unclip her helmet. Her hair was sleek with sweat when he lifted it from her head, tucking it under his arm. 

“Hey,” Rooster said, appearing beside them, glancing between the two. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Bug nodded, stepping toward him and throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, Rooster.”

“‘Course. You ready to get checked out?” She nodded, glancing at Jake. He handed her the helmet and tipped his chin to where the flight surgeon was already talking to Omaha. It hurt to turn away from her, and he caught a flash of something in her eyes as he moved away to shake Fritz’s hand. Rooster threw him a look before tossing an arm over Bug’s shoulder and walking her toward the doc, stopping so she could hug Payback and Fanboy along the way. 

They spent the rest of the day in the classroom, neither Omaha nor Bug joining them. When Jake left work, he saw that her car was already gone. There was talk of getting together to have a few drinks at the Hard Deck, but Jake had no interest in going - especially not when Bob had quipped about another lucky landing for Ladybug.

He’d planned on going straight home and having a glass of whiskey. It was his preferred way to wind down after a hard day, and this one hit harder than most. It wasn’t the first time he’d almost lost a wingman, and he knew it would take some time to shake, but this time was… different. 

This time, it was Bug.

Jake was parking at her apartment and knocking on her door before he realized it. His fist collided with the metal when she didn’t answer. “Bug, it’s me,” he called. She was there - her car was in its spot. But she didn’t answer. He banged again, then rested his forehead on the door, calling her name. When he heard the flick of the lock, he straightened. 

Bug’s eyes were red when they met his, her hair a tangled mess on her shoulders. She was still in her flight suit, the sleeves tied around her waist and her black undershirt discolored with sweat. They stared at one another for a heartbeat before Jake stepped closer, cupped her face, and kissed her. His lips were rough against hers, and he took advantage of her surprised gasp to deepen it. Her hand carded in his hair and he walked them into her apartment, pausing only long enough to kick the door closed. He moved his hand to curl around her neck, guiding her to just the right spot while his other hand slid under her shirt, wanting to reassure himself that she was alright. Bug moaned as his hand curved around her waist, fingers digging in and pulling her close enough to feel her heart beating against his. 

Jake tasted spearmint on her tongue and, when they broke apart to catch their breath, the salt on her skin as his lips sealed on her throat. His fingers curled in her hair, tugging lightly to encourage her to give him more access as he nipped and soothed the hurt with his tongue. “Fuck,” she breathed. 

“Don’t scare me like that, honey,” he whispered, relishing the soft whimper she let out. “Can’t do that to me.” 

“I was so scared,” she admitted. “It was just like the crash. I couldn’t do anything but watch.” His mouth covered hers, unwilling and unable to think about her being in situations where he couldn’t do anything to help. Standing by the radio and listening, being helpless, had been the worst kind of torture.

They froze when there was a knock on the door. And then Jake felt as though he’d been doused in cold water when he heard Rooster call out, “Bug?” He pulled away and stared at her, taking in her kiss-swollen lips and the red marks he’d left on her throat. “Bug?” 

“J-just a minute,” she called back. The glint in her eye dimmed slightly as he stepped away, dropping his hands from her body. Jake ran a hand down his face before licking his lips, savoring the taste of her mouth, tongue, and lip balm before he cleared his throat while continuing to back away.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“You don’t have to - ”

Jake didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence, turning on his heel to open the door. Rooster took a step back, surprise written across his face, as he pushed past him and hurried toward his truck.

He’d fucked up, and he knew it. 

Jake hated himself, but he wasn’t sure what for - kissing Bug or leaving her. Probably a bit of both. 

But he definitely hated himself for going out of his way to avoid her. For seeing the hurt in her eyes, knowing that he caused it, and doing nothing to make it better. Actively making it worse when she sought him out - avoiding her at lunch and flirting with a woman the night Bug surprised everyone by showing up at the Hard Deck. He knew it was a dick move to walk the woman to her car, leaving her disappointed when he said goodnight without so much as a peck on the cheek. Jake knew what it looked like when he climbed into his truck and drove away rather than going back inside. He spent the rest of the night alone in bed, trying to forget the taste of Bug’s skin, only to paste on a fake smile and whistle as he strode into work the following morning. Bug hadn’t looked at him all day, but he’d definitely caught angry glances from the others.  

It had taken everything in him not to stand on the tarmac the first time she climbed back into a jet and watch the entire flight. Instead, he forced himself to play foosball with Coyote and pretended not to listen closely to her on the radio.  

If there was a benefit to Jake denying himself her company, it was that Bug was getting closer to the rest of the squad. She was eating lunch with them when he dodged her, eating outside or in his truck. She was joining them at the gym instead of sneaking away. The first day he saw her in running shorts instead of pants, Jake wanted to go to his knees in front of her and kiss every scar on her legs to let her know how gorgeous she was. 

And she’d agreed to take the last open seat at their table for the Navy Ball. 

Jake wasn’t sure if he would go until a few hours before it started when Phoenix texted that she’d castrate him if he skipped. So he ironed his dress blues and shaved, promising to leave right after the ceremony and dinner. He didn’t even get his truck washed before heading to the hotel, tossing his keys to the valet, and going straight for the cash bar. 

Phoenix and Kerri were getting pictures taken, and Jake spotted Payback and Maria chatting with Mav and Penny. Fanboy and Bob were mingling, and he didn’t want to sit at the table by himself, so he decided to circulate as well. He’d never enjoyed these nights but knew it was important to get his face out there and show that he was a good sport, especially since he’d be pinning on his gold oak leaves in a few months when he was promoted to Lieutenant Commander. 

One more step toward his goal of being an admiral. 

When he was almost finished with his whiskey neat, Jake made his way back to the bar for another but decided to wait until dinner. But as he walked away, he heard someone call him, turning to see Yale motioning him over. “What?

“Just thought I’d rub it in your face that you lost our bet,” the other man smirked, pointing behind him. Jake glanced over his shoulder, watching as Rooster led a woman to their table and pulled out her chair before collapsing into the one beside her. His arm went around her shoulders, and he tugged her in to kiss her temple. “Looks like you didn’t get Rooster to pick Bug after all.” 

“Our bet was over months ago, asshole,” Jake spat. 

“You sure about that?” 

“It was stupid to do in the first place.”

“What, you betting that you could get Rooster to be attracted to Bug?” He frowned as Yale looked over Jake’s shoulder and winked. 

“You what?” 

He closed his eyes, wishing that it wasn’t her. But when he turned, Bug stood there, shock and hurt written across her features. She looked gorgeous in a tight, floor-length navy blue dress with some type of short, glittery sleeves. He could just see the scar on her arm peeking out, and he ached to press his lips to the curve of her neck. “Bug - ”

“A bet?” 

“Yup,” Yale said, clapping a hand to Jake’s shoulder that he quickly shook off, fists clenching. He couldn’t punch him here, not in front of all the officers, but he wanted to. “All a bet.”

“It wasn’t,” Jake said, reaching for Bug. She stepped back, her red lips pressed into a thin line. “It started out that way but - ”

“Just - ” she cut him off, lifting a hand to stop him. “Just stop, please. Don’t ruin tonight for me. At least, not more than you already have.” 

“Bug - ” But she was gone, pushing through the crowd and exiting into the hotel's main lobby. Turning, he faced Yale, who smirked into his highball glass. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that?” The other man shrugged. 

“You ever think I’m doin’ you a favor? That Ladybug might not be a good luck charm but a curse? Look at the other pilots she’s been involved with - I mean, fuck. Omaha’s never G-LOC’d before, and a couple of months with her as his WSO and suddenly he’s almost crashing?” 

Aware of the eyes on him, Jake forced himself not to lift his clenched fist as he stepped closer to Yale. “You shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Gentlemen,” Cyclone said, appearing beside them. “You’re blocking the bar.” Jake lifted his chin and stepped back, feeling the air boss’s eyes on him. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, sir,” he forced himself to say. “I’ll get out of your way.” His eyes darted across the room and saw Rooster standing up from the table. Angry, he followed the pilot, intercepting him on his way to the men’s room. “Hey!”

Rooster startled at Jake’s bark and raised an eyebrow. “Hey?”

“Why didn’t you come with Bug tonight?” 

“Bug? Why would I come with her?” 

“Because she likes you, you jackass!” 

“Me? Bug doesn’t like me, jackass. At least, not like that.” 

“Yes, she does. She’s had a crush on you since she got here.” 

“Aren’t you two dating?” The question brought Jake up short. “Everyone’s kind of thought the two of you were together.” 

“No… no, we’re not. She’s not - she likes you. We’re just friends.” 

“Wow,” the other man said, crossing his arms and smirking. “I didn’t realize what a fucking idiot you were. Bug and I are just friends - you two aren’t friends. Or, at least, not just friends.” 

“But…”

“Wow. Phoenix is gonna love this,” Rooster laughed, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta piss and then get back to my date. Maybe you should go find yours.” 

Jake stood there for a long moment, playing the last few months over in his head. It had been a while since he’d seen Bug blush whenever Rooster looked at her. And, if he thought about it, she’d always looked confused when he mentioned Rooster being somewhere as an incentive for her to go out.

And she’d kissed him back. 

Maybe…maybe what he’d taken for an adrenaline crash on her part had actually been… 

“Fuck,” he groaned, realizing that maybe Bug did actually like him. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d caught feelings over the last few months. And she thought he’d only talked to her because of a bet. 

She ignored his phone calls, and he couldn’t find her anywhere in the hotel. He was about to get his car back from the valet and drive to her apartment when he saw her walking back into the ballroom and had to force himself not to run after her. Bug settled at their table, taking a spot between Kerri and Maria. Both women looked at him as he stood behind Bug’s chair and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Can I talk to you?”

“No.”

“Please?” When she turned away from him and started talking to Maria, he bit back a groan. He sighed her name and watched as a blush rose on her cheeks. 

“Maybe you should sit down, Hangman,” Phoenix said, smirking as she nodded to the seat directly across from Bug. Their squad had thrown in together to get two tables, and he was relieved to see that Yale was sitting at the other one. “Speech is about to start.” He sighed, rubbing a knuckle along Bug’s shoulder and watching the goosebumps rise. She ignored him, and he retreated to sit between Bob and Rooster’s date. Bug continued to ignore him as he stared at the pretty blush that stretched from her cheeks to her chest. He was paying so little attention that Bob had to elbow him when the color guard entered, and he saluted, not watching the guard but instead watching Bug as she stood at attention with her back to him. 

If asked, he couldn’t tell you a damn thing about what the keynote speaker said over their 45-minute speech other than hazarding a guess that it had something to do with the Navy and Marines celebrating their birthdays together. Instead, he watched Bug turn in her seat, occasionally facing him as she sipped her water. During the short break, he stood and tried to catch her before dinner was served, but she looped arms with Maria and retreated to the ladies' room.

“Didn’t think tonight would have a show with it,” Payback chuckled, sipping his beer and setting a glass of wine by his wife’s plate. 

“This is perfect,” Phoenix agreed, tapping her rum and coke against Fanboy’s. 

“Shut up,” Jake grumbled. When Maria and Bug came back, Maria tucked herself under her husband’s arm while Bug checked her phone. He caught the way her brows furrowed, and her shoulders slumped, finger hesitating over the screen before tapping it and returning it to her clutch. When her eyes lifted, they met Jake’s before flitting away to focus on the floral centerpiece. 

The same thing happened as they ate dinner. Jake had never realized how hot it could be to watch someone eat… that lipstick smudge on her water glass. When they cleared away dinner and cut the birthday cake, he grabbed them both a piece and fantasized about smearing the icing on her collarbone and licking it off. 

The DJ kicked off the music, and as soon as Bug put down her fork, he pushed to his feet and circled the table. “Dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand over her shoulder. She ignored him, as expected. Her skin was warm under his palm as he rested his hand on her shoulder and leaned to whisper in her ear. “One dance, and I’ll leave you alone. Promise.” Bug sighed, and Jake grinned when she grabbed her napkin from her lap and threw it onto the table. He pulled her chair back, chuckling when she ignored his offered hand. 

“One dance,” she said, holding up a finger before walking to the dance floor. She waited expectantly for him at the side, and he took her hand, leading her to the middle of the floor where they could hide in the crowd from their friend’s prying eyes. But even as she stepped into his arms, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other in his, she didn’t look at him. 

“Bug, I’m sorry.” When she didn’t say anything, he forged ahead. “The bet was stupid, and I made it before I really knew you.”

“When?” 

“What?”

“When did you make the bet?” 

“The Fourth of July.” He watched her lips press into a thin line as they swayed to an old song, her eyes fixed on his medals rather than meeting his eyes. Jake sighed, “We were drunk, and it was stupid, and I don’t even know why I did it. And it was before I knew that you and Yale even knew each other before this. But, what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m sorry that I made the stupid bet, but I’m also not.”

Bug pulled them to a stop, anger flashing in her eyes as she finally looked at him. “You’re not sorry?”

“No,” he smiled, applying gentle pressure to her lower back and pulling her closer. She resisted. “You promised me one dance, Bug, and it’s not over.” Reluctantly, she stepped closer and resumed their awkward dance. “I’m not sorry, at least not entirely, because I probably wouldn’t have tried so hard to talk to you if I hadn’t been tryin’ to set you up with Rooster. You’re not the easiest person to get to know.” 

“Are you blaming me?” 

“No, just stating a fact. You avoided talking to any of us about anything other than work. If it wasn’t for the bet, I wouldn’t have gotten to know you - I’d only know Ladybug.” 

“I am Ladybug.” 

Jake smiled while saying her name, his hand lifting from her waist to trace the scar on her arm. “You’re more than Ladybug. Ladybug doesn’t read sexy books over lunch or think that apples, cheese, and crackers are a meal. She doesn’t play softball or answer her friend’s call even knowin’ he’s probably gonna hurt her. That’s all you, honey. Ladybug’s great, but I think I’m fallin’ in love with you.” 

Bug stopped for a second time, her red lips falling open as she looked at him. “What?” 

“I said, I think I’m fallin’ in love with you.” 

“Even though you were trying to set me up with your friend?” she asked after a moment. 

“If you think about it, I wasn’t really trying too hard.”

“You’ve been ignoring me for weeks.”

“‘Cause I didn’t want to see you with him, but I want you to be happy. And if you’d be happier with Rooster, then I guess I can figure out some way to break up him and - ”

“Are you serious right now?” her voice was getting louder, and they were starting to draw attention. Noticing this, Bug squared her shoulders and stepped out of his arms, storming off of the floor. Jake hurried behind her, heart in his throat as they exited the ballroom and entered the hotel lobby.

“Bug, please - ” Spinning on her heel, she marched back toward him and poked his chest. 

“You… you jackass!” 

“I’m hearing that a lot tonight.”

“You’re an idiot!”

“Heard that, too.” 

“You don’t tell someone that you ‘think you’re falling in love with them’” - she made air quotes while throwing his words back at him - “and then try to set them up with your friend.” 

“How am I supposed to know? This is the first time I’m doing this.” 

“This is - ” Bug paused, ruby lips falling open as she let out a little gasp. Crossing her arms, she cocked a hip and pinned him with a glare. “This is the first time I think I’m falling in love with someone, too, and even I know that, you idiot. It’s pretty common sense.” 

Jake’s grin was blinding, and he hesitantly reached out to wrap a hand around her waist, stepping into her space. Bug tilted her chin to meet his eyes, her lip twitching as she fought a smile. “You think you’re fallin’ in love with me, Bug?” 

“Maybe.”

“Well… maybe I don’t think I’m falling in love with you. Maybe I know I’m in love with you. I think,” he leaned down, his breath ghosting over her face as he stared at her lips. “I think maybe I knew when you nearly burned in.” 

“Maybe I knew it then, too.” 

Jake’s nose brushed hers before he kissed her. This time, it was soft. Teasing. Testing the waters. They pulled away to stare at one another for a heartbeat before Bug threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to lick into his mouth. Jake smiled, his arms going around her waist and pulling her close, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck. And then, just like before, they were interrupted. But this time, it was by a catcall. 

“Finally!” Rooster laughed. 

“Get a room, you two!” Phoenix ordered before kissing her girlfriend’s cheek. 

Bug and Jake looked at one another, and she reached up to wipe the red lipstick from his mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes when she said, “I do have one… a room. Here. If you wanted to.”

“Fuck, honey,” he groaned. “Let’s go.” Her blush deepened as she pushed onto her toes to whisper in his ear.

“So… you should know that I’ve only slept with one person. And only once. Just in case it’s not…so you don’t get your expectations too high.” 

Jake stared down at her, forcing his jaw not to drop. “Bug, please tell me he at least made you cum.” Rather than answer, she pressed her lips together tightly, and he groaned again. 

“I have so much to teach you, honey. Starting tonight. Let’s go.”

“My key’s in my clutch. At the table.” 

“Right.” He nodded, bending to kiss her again. 

“It might, um…have been a while. But I’ve read a lot,” Bug said, as though trying to assure them both. And Jake couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I know. I’ve read some of your sexy books. Want me to reenact them for you?” Bug’s breath caught, and he chuckled, pecking her lips. “Be a good girl, and wait here for me, honey.”

There was some good-natured teasing when Jake hurried to their table and snatched Bug’s clutch. He ignored it all, wanting to get back to her quickly.

But he did detour to the cake table, picking a slice with extra frosting. 

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

Author's Note: This one really got away with me, and I was shocked that I managed to write it in about 2 days. A huge thanks goes to May for beta'ing this for me and making sure that Jake still felt like Bug was interested in Rooster throughout.

I love the idea of Jake reading romance novels because his girlfriend likes them. Three that were mentioned here (in order) are: Wicked Beauty by Katee Roberts, The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang, and The Bromance Bookclub by Lyssa Kay Adams. You know that he would absolutely lovingly tease his partner about reading them, and then be blown away by just how much one can learn from reading smutty literature. There are definitely some book shopping trips he'll be treating Bug to in the future.

Ladybugs have historically been seen as a sign of good luck. I liked the idea of Reader having that as a callsign, as she wouldn't have anything to do with piloting the plane, but could serve as good luck for her pilot. Even in scrapes, she's there to help them out. For Risk, on his first carrier landing, she was able to keep him calm, and later in the accident, she was able to keep him stable until help arrived. For Omaha, she was able to snap him out of G-LOC by screaming his name. And for Jake? Well, ladybugs can also mean luck in love and expanding family.

A bit about the trauma in the story. Bug would meet the diagnostic criteria for post-trumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and probably should have been grounded for a little while. But disassociation from the traumatic event can help someone compartmentalize their trauma and get back to work (can attest to this from personal experience) - she was medically cleared by the flight surgeon and was back on duty. As of this posting, the Air Force is the only branch with a policy that allows aviators to get 60 days of mental health treatment without needing a return to duty waiver/clearance. Bug would have benefited from treatment, which might have further delayed her PCS and made Yale not hate her. She's not "cured" of PTSD by falling in love, but hopefully there's some therapy in her future to help her process the traumatic events. As for the G-LOC, there is no way for a WSO to take control of the aircraft, and the F-18s haven't been retrofitted with the technology to have autopilot reengage when the pilot loses control.

Risk would undergo the medical discharge process - "med board" - to be separated from the military with an honorable discharge following the accident, as he would be unable to preform the duties of his Military Occupational Specialty (MOS). I don’t imagine him as a bad guy, trying to hurt Bug, but traumatic brain injuries (TBIs) can cause emotional dysregulation and aggression that can be hard to deal with.

If you're interested, this is the dress that I imagined Bug wearing to the Navy ball (not representative of how I think she looks).

Thank you so much for reading this. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please fill out my tag list form (hyperlinked).

Tag list: @shanimallin87

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[shaytheantagonist]

My Roman Empire is how the life series writes itself. Here are some coincidences that I think about frequently:

1. Every person who has ever won a life series (Real Life included) was paired with another winner in Double Life (Grian & Scar, Scott & Pearl, Martyn & Cleo)

2. Several members had patterns in their deaths in Secret Life (All of Grian’s deaths happened while a large portion of the remaining server members were present, all of Scott’s deaths were arranged & he let whoever killed him kill him, all of Etho’s deaths were from Scar killing him, all of Jimmy’s deaths were from mobs of increasing strength (drowned, dragon & warden), all of Mumbo’s deaths were because of poor walking (walked off a ledge, walked into lava, walked into his own fence posts) & all of Martyn’s deaths happened in different dimensions)

3. Jimmy being out first 4 times in a row

4. Grian winning 3rd Life & then being dead last in the VR recreation of 3rd Life

5. Mumbo always having his final death moments after Jimmy’s final death

6. Pearl & Scar winning their seasons after being the underdog the entire season & having it the hardest

7. The first interaction Etho & Joel had in the entire life series was while they were in boats

8. Every time Scott is in the final two, whoever loses dies to a mob they didn’t know was behind them (Ren in Last Life, Scott in Real Life)

9. Jimmy always cursing at least one of his allies to do horribly each season (3rd Life was Scott’s lowest placement ever, 10th. Last Life: both Mumbo & Impulse were in the bottom 4. Double Life: Tango played poorly and was responsible for 2/3 of their deaths. Limited Life, Joel was out third & The Bad Boys died A LOT. Secret Life: Martyn was the first yellow AND the first red despite literally winning the previous season. EVEN REAL LIFE, Jimmy teamed with Grian, Joel, Scar & Impulse, who were the first 4 to be eliminated.)

10. Since Double Life, Pearl has wanted her allies to win the current seasons, she has outlived all of her main allies every season since then (Big B in Limited Life & Mumbo, BDubs & Joel in Secret Life)

11. Joel literally & metaphorically being the reason Lizzie was the first one out instead of Jimmy in Secret Life (Lizzie only died because she was trying to kill Scott to help out with Joel’s assassin task, by the time she tried to kill him & died in the process, Joel had already failed his task & just hadn’t told her yet, so if he had told her that he had failed, she wouldn’t have taken Scott to the end & fallen into the void & Jimmy probably would’ve first out again. Also when they were hosting an early funeral for Jimmy, Joel opened the grave & told Jimmy to “Rise”, I think this was Joel unknowingly breaking the curse.)

12. The fact that Gem’s final death is always her coming 3rd & dying in a 2v1 situation.

13. Joel’s first death in Last Life was fall damage, his first death in Secret Life was also fall damage. The reason Joel ended up on red life in Last Life was because of the Boogeyman curse (both times), in Secret Life, he because red because of being killed by a Boogeyman. In Last Life Joel’s final death was at the hands of Scott, causing him to place 5th, in Secret Life, Joel’s final death was being killed by Scott, causing him to place 5th. I’m leaving out one of Joel’s Last Life deaths, specifically when he died to Mumbo in self defence, but that’s mostly cuz there are more deaths in Last Life than Secret Life

This isn’t even all of them, there are so many more!

[ferrstappen]

Max the wag: are we the drama? l Max Verstappen Imagine

happy note: hello my loviessssss! How are you all? It feels like it’s been an eternity and I am so so happy to be back to writing and interacting with your great and incredible asks and everything <3 and I know I said this was supposed to be ready by Monday or so? but I started an internship and it's been harder than expected, but I'm getting the hang of it so be prepared for more works to come!

Probably tomorrow I’ll be posting a list of all the requests I’m incredibly behind but that way you know I got them and are on my mind and will be written <3 I also don’t know if you like the idea of starting a tag list? Please please let me know, babes <3 

ALSO I got an incredible request of the Max the wag series involving our boy Yuki AND I LOVED IT SO MUCH so it’s absolutely happening!

YOU CAND FIND THE MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE

summary: For the first time, Max and you find yourselves on the other end of the gossip.

Hungary Grand Prix, 2023.

Max wasn’t feeling like himself.

The car upgrades were supposed to be great, not to make him struggle and happy a shitty day, which meant shitty questions, passive aggressive press conference trying to not look so annoyed, but it didn’t help that the press was painstakingly working to get the worst angles with furrowed eyebrows and waving off strangers trying to aggressively approach him.

Of course, it didn’t help you weren’t there to hold his hand walking around the paddock, forcing his blue eyes to focus on your calming smile and the inevitable lovestruck expression plastered on his face. 

And yes, he was letting out the fact he didn’t leave Monaco in the best of terms. He’d grown accustomed to you tagging along to most races, but when you informed him you wouldn’t be able to make it to the last two races before summer break he didn’t take it the best way. 

Yes, Max understood you were needed at your job and deadlines were way more difficult to meet with changing time zones, bumpy flights and noisy paddocks and hospitalities, but it didn’t change the fact that he needed you and his selfish self really needed you cheering for him, even if you’d seen him win enough times already. 

In conclusion, it was safe to say he didn’t really feel like putting on a genuine smile or goof around with interviewers who’d ask the same questions while Christian tells him off for looking unapproachable. 

The only thing that turned the corners of his mouth was a WhatsApp attachment from you, Jimmy and Sassy sleeping with the F1 channel on full display on the TV. 

It wasn’t long until Twitter and Instagram fan accounts came to the conclusion you weren’t there with Max, creating a small discussion with some people arguing that it didn’t make sense you’d tagged along to places like Baku or Melbourne and not go to a race less far away and arguably one of the most popular tracks of the season, while other people defended you saying you had your own life apart from being Max’s girlfriend, you had a job, conferences to attend amongst other things, so it was ridiculous to expect you to be there for every race, no matter how much you loved Max. 

You don’t know whether it was the fact you didn’t post a story on Instagram celebrating Max’s win or the fact Max hadn’t been his best self, struggling with the car, losing control over the tiniest thing and just losing focus overall the fuel for some fans to start speculating about the status of your relationship.

User1: why hasn’t y/n  posted something about max?? she always does when she’s not with him

User2: something’s sus 

User3: no pls I cant handle another July break up

User4: max deserves someone who shows up for him! He arguably had the most difficult weekend of the season and she’s mia 

            User5: she’s always there for him and has a right to have her own life grow the hell up!

Belgian Grand Prix, 2023

Last race before summer break meant most people on the paddock were a turmoil of emotions between the desire for the weekend to be completely over and wishing to do the best possible job before the break.

Max convinced himself he was coming into the weekend relaxed, knowing he’d have to put his best strategies, talent and focus for Spa, but a few free weeks were right around the corner so he could recharge with you, staying in bed for the entire morning before getting up to get ready to go out, maybe arriving back to the apartment drunk and giggly only to regret everything during the morning, but with the knowledge you were going to do the exact same.

He was facetiming you when he came across lots of fans wanting his attention, asking for pictures, until someone asked for you and Max pretended he didn’t listen, not wanting to answer things about his relationship, and the woman that asked wasn’t even sharp enough to catch your face on full display on his screen. 

Had Max known the chaos it would ensue not answering the simple question about you, maybe he’d reconsider, especially since Lando and him jumped from the paddock to a helicopter waiting to take them to the closing night of Tomorrowland where Martin Garrix was closing the last weekend.

User1: *attached video* pls pls you HAVE to see the discomfort on max face when someone asked him about y/n something is not right with parents

            User2: we all know he never speaks about her thoo, im keeping my hopes up!!!!

User4: I’m calling break up and good cuz I never liked her always acted like she was too good for the f1 world and never communicated w fans

            User3: that’s called being reserved moron!!1 you don’t see other wags taking pics with fans except maybe lily bc she’s a pro golfer!!!

You were sitting on your bed when Victoria sent a thread on Twitter (or X? or Threads? it’s confusing) pointing at every proof and detail about your supposed break up, ironically asking if you had something to inform the family since Max hadn’t said anything. 

With widened eyes and unable to contain the urge to see what people were saying about Max and you, two hours later you were still reading gossip sites and didn’t even hear the door of the penthouse opening with both Sassy and Jimmy running away from the feet of the bed. 

“Is this the welcome I get?” Max’s voice announced his arrival, catching you by surprise and throwing the phone in the air. 

“Fuck, Max! You scared the shit out of me, I hate you!” You laughed, finally realizing he was right in front of you and kneeling on the bed to attach your arms around his neck, allowing Max to grab you by the thighs and spin you around while you left small kisses on his cheeks.

“What were you reading? You looked very focused,” Max carefully placed you back on the mattress before throwing his body and groaning at the feeling of his muscles relaxing.

“Did you know we broke up?” You questioned your boyfriend whose blue eyes opened as much as they could, eyebrows raised and slightly moving his head in confusion. 

Max was confused but still demanded an answer on what was going on as he watched the corners of your mouth lifting and quiet giggles leaving them. 

“Look, it’s full of theories because I didn’t attend the last races and after you went with Lando to watch Martin, some fans started drawing their own conclusions!”

“Are they insane? Speculating about other people’s love lives is so rude, and just because I didn’t answer a question about you which I never do? People are crazy!” Max exclaimed on an irritated tone, but quickly caught your eyes, making him realize the people commenting were doing the exact same thing as you, just on a larger scale. 

“Baby, I think this time we are the drama…” You stated before the bedroom became quiet.

It was just Max and you staring at each other, recalling every time you eavesdropped a conversation that clearly wasn’t meant for either of you to hear, or discussed different theories on who had cheated, who had broken up with whom, why some partners were so young or looked almost identical. 

“Schatz, I am not going to lie,” Max started with a frown and serious face before continuing. “I am very proud of us” After letting it out Max started laughing, his cheeks flushing and placing his hand over his mouth to try to stifle the sounds. 

“Baby, this definitely means we made it!”

It was bound to happen, you were meant to eventually become a source of spectacle if you enjoyed gossiping about other people’s lives so much. 

After laughing to the brink of tears, Max kissed your lips; softly, slowly and sensually, making it hard to separate but he stared right into your eyes and asked you in all seriousness: “Should we feed the gossip? Wouldn’t it be fun?”

[famousstatesmanbearroad]

DISTRACTIONS (WWE CODY RHODES)

•Summary: He’s allowed you in his head, allowed you to play mind games, allowed you to make him vulnerable, causing his match against your cousin at WrestleMania 39. Months later and he finally earns another match, just for you to start the distraction all over again, dwelling on the pass

• Parings: Cody Rhodes X Samoan fem reader

Warnings - mentions of sex, 18+ only (Minors DNI), (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Word count: 3.2k

Bloodline: A set of ancestors or line of descent of a person.

That's what your brothers and Cousins called themselves here at World Wrestling Entertainment. Your cousin, Roman, the tribal chief, has run this company and held the Undisputed WWE Universal heavyweight championship for three years.

Your brothers held the undisputed tag team belts for over a year before losing them at WrestleMania a few months ago. Since then, things have changed.

Your brothers aren't on the best terms. Jey, one-half of your twin brothers, has left the bloodline after Jimmy, his other half, betrayed him.

Since then, Solo, Roman's third-oldest brother, and Jimmy have been by Roman's side.

And you? You two are by Roman's side.

Not by choice, however.

Family is Family. You have supported Roman since he joined this company with his two best friends. As the years have passed, Roman has changed—for the better and the worse.

You haven't had much of a role in the bloodline other than the one who plays mind games with Roman's opponent.

Brock Lenser, your first victim. It's just a tiny distraction here and there just for him to slip and lose his belt to Roman.

Drew McIntyre fought hard not to let the distractions get to him. To you, it was very much easy. His allowing you to get in the way was one of his biggest regrets.

Then there was Cody Rhodes. Cody, fucking Rhodes. This was your biggest challenge out of all three. The lengths you went to distracted me. It almost seemed like it wasn't working at first. Then it did.

You don't like to admit this, but Cody left an ideally permanent scar on you mentally. You were almost relieved when you barely saw him after WrestleMania 39 a few months ago. And you tried your hardest to keep it a distraction, and only a distraction.

But Cody immediately knew you as a person. He knew your weaknesses, fears, and thoughts, and your mind changed every second, distracting both of you.

And after that night he lost, you knew Cody wasn't finished, but you vowed to yourself that if there was a moment when Cody had the opportunity to Wrestle your cousin again, you would stay the hell away from Cody.

However, your cousin had different plans.

You are sitting across from Roman in his dressing room as he dismisses Jimmy, Solo, and Heyman.

He looked at you as he lay back in his seat, sighing. "Listen," he spoke with such boldness that heads would turn in any room. You have helped me a lot, and typically, I don't ask you for favors. But you saw it. The whole world and I saw it. Cody has won the Royal Rumble, and he's after one thing and one thing only: me."

Cody's name falling out of Roman's mouth sent your heart straight to your ass. You were there when Cody pointed at Roman after winning the Royal Rumble. And you prayed his name didn't get brought up afterward. But you, here you were, hearing his name.

Roman looked dead at you as you remained silent. "I don't know what you did to cause such a big distraction to Cody, but it worked, and I need you to do whatever power you have to do it again."

If only he knew. If only the things you and Cody had done had caused the distractions. With Brock, these minor distractions taunted him, distracted the referee, and even distracted him so Roman could re-strengthen himself and take him down.

Drew, although it was fucked, you flirted with him and made him feel like his wife never existed; you never once touched him, but you damn sure made him want to touch you.

Cody, it took lots of flirtation, a whole lot of him calling your bullshit and one night. One fucking night that caused the scars for you and to allow Cody to be distracted.

"I don't think it's gonna work again; he's gotten fool once; he might not be a fool again." You tell him. However, Roman chuckles as he shakes his head.

"People around here say that you're the best at what you do, the best at distracting people." He said. "Are you doubting yourself? Are you telling me that you're not good at your job?"

You rolled your eyes at Roman. Though if any of his other family members did that, he would be pissed. But unlike the others, you weren't afraid of Roman or to speak up.

"I have only ever distracted someone to the point where they lose and lose only. Not lose and then come back a year later with another title shot."

Roman went silent, then leaned forward, rubbing his chin as he listened to what you said. "I get it. This is a difficult challenge. Normally, a person wouldn't be as easily distracted a second time. But I need you, Y/N. I need you to do whatever it takes to ensure this." He speaks, pointing at his belt. "Stay with me."

It was his words that played in your head multiple times.

"I need you, Y/N." You cared about your cousin and would do whatever it took to ensure he was a champion, so you eventually agreed to a second round of distractions at Cody.

You knew where Cody's bus was and where you were near it. The fact that it was still parked indicated that he was still around and hadn't returned.

You lay your back against the bus, waiting patiently for him to appear. Then, you suddenly saw a figure from afar, still in his gear, walking in your direction.

This was the first time in almost a year since you saw him again. You have to admit to yourself that you're nervous as shit. Memories that the two of you shared played in the back of your head. And the closer he got, the more you regretted this again.

His eyes landed on you as you bit your lip, watching him approach you. From his expression, it looked like he was expecting you.

Cody. To him, you were like a plague that wouldn't go away. That night damaged him in many ways you couldn't imagine. He couldn't get over that night. It was the most he had ever been vulnerable. He, too, made a vow to himself.

When in doubt, never let you in again if you ever come back. He wanted you as far away from him as possible.

But right now, you were already making it complicated, especially how you looked at him, bit down on your lip, and looked at him with such innocence. And the amount of skin.

Your skin was his weakness, the way it was soft every time he touched it, the way you allowed yourself to show so much and not give a damn if it was too revealing.

However, Cody sighed, giving you the coldest response ever.

"What the hell do you want?" He asked you. You gave him a small smile as you raised your hands in defense and straightened yourself up, off against his bus. "I didn't come here to start anything; I just came here to congratulate you." You said. "You promised yourself that you would finish your story, and now you're one step closer."

Cody eyed you. You were being genuine, he can tell. But he knew you didn't come here for just that.

"Thank you." He said. "Anything else?"

You put a smile on your face as you took a step closer to him. Cody watched you with caution as if you were going to cause destruction.

"You left the Tribal Chief very angry." You spoke. Cody laughs as he looks down before looking back up at you. "And that concerns me because?"

"Because he isn't going to go easy on you. He's already beaten you once; he doesn't want to deal with you again."

"Well, that sounds like a Roman Reigns problem," Cody said. "Anything else?"

You didn't get as close to him until now, taking a step closer as he watched you. His expression was unreadable but slightly changed as you looked up at him. You noticed the gulp that went down his throat. His chest rose and fell heavily, but his eyes never left yours.

"I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store on the way to WrestleMania," you said.

You lifted your hand, reaching on his chest, attempting to touch whether it was a Cody. He noticed your hand and immediately snapped by grabbing your wrist.

"Don't fucking touch me."

His voice was cold. He looked at you with a heartless expression, and you couldn't help but have your smile fade.

He's changed, you thought. It wasn't like he didn't act like this last time you targeted him. He knew what you were doing and tried his hardest not to let you get to him, but he was never heartless. Which made you think it was the only reason why your plan even worked despite him seeing your bullshit.

And it wasn't that you found a way to toy with him; he allowed you to despite everything.

Cody vowed to himself that if you ever came in contact with him, even if it meant himself earning a title opportunity against your cousin, he was going to let what happen.

You gasped as he aggressively let go of your hand. He walked past without a word, climbing into his bus and slamming the door shut.

You didn't realize that you were holding your breath as your chest started rising up and down. You knew getting Cody distracted would be more challenging than expected this time, but you didn't realize exactly how difficult it was. You knew he wouldn't want to deal with this again. You were part of why he lost his match in April. You could tell he was distracted, eyeing you every time he noticed you were there after forgetting.

You didn't realize he wasn't mad at you because you cost him his match. He couldn't blame you. He blamed himself for allowing you to distract him. It was that night—the night he made himself vulnerable, the night all these emotions and tensions the two of you had led up to it.

Cody leaned against his table and let out a shook breath, rubbing his face. God, you looked gorgeous, he thought. But he hated you so much. He hated that you mentally impacted him; it was just a game. A fucking game.

-

Cody sat in an empty bar somewhere in Tampa as he downed another drink, bourbon whisky.

He should be celebrating; he just won the Royal Rumble for the second time in a row. Why is he so depressed?

He couldn't get you out of his head.

He knew when exactly you started to get him. The first you moaned his name, he almost went feral, and he barely touched you. He doesn't know if it slipped out of you or if you did it purposely to get inside his head. But it worked.

He had wondered what it would feel like to feel you, touch you, make you moan his name again. Then it happened, he got the experience. It fucked him up in ways he knew it would the minute it happened.

He hates you. But as fucked up as it sounds, if he had an opportunity to fuck you again with no consequences, no mind games, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Over

And over

And over again.

"Yo, Uce!" Cody's head turned as a figure walked in his direction.

Jey Uso. Twin brother of Jimmy, your second oldest brother. You two had a falling out after SummerSlam. Nothing personal that you did. Jey always thought you deserved better than to be just Roman's puppet. You do whatever Roman says, and Jey hates the fact that he used you.

Cody poured another glass of bourbon as Jey sat beside him, noticing the long face. "You good uce?" Jey asked.

Cody rubbed his temple after taking a sip from his class and placing it down. He was unsure if he should tell Jey about you. Regardless of the wrong terms you two were on, Jey loved you. You were closer to Jey than your other two brothers.

But despite debating on whether or not Cody should tell Jey, he did anyway.

"I ran into your sister earlier," Cody said. Jey's expression changed as he took a seat next to him.

Jey knew how much you played a big part in his match against Roman last WrestleMania. He never knew the extent you took to pull off you. Only that you achieved it, allowing yourself to get to Cody.

But Jey missed you, and hearing Cody mention your name only means that Roman sent you to distract him again, which he didn't like.

"Look, Uce, you gotta not let Y/N get to you like she did last time," Jey said. "Roman is only making her do this so he can get you when you're not paying attention."

If only you knew, Cody thought. Jey doesn't know what happened. No one knows but you and Cody.

However, Cody chuckled when Jey mentioned Roman. The two knew that Roman only kept you around to help him with his opponents. Otherwise, he wouldn't keep you around.

"Does she always listen to him?" Cody asked your brother, who shook his head while grabbing a glass from the bartender and pouring himself a drink. "Man, I don't enjoy seeing him tell her what to do. I think she only does it because Roman is like a brother to all of us."

Cody took in what Jey said. He knew that you and your brothers were closer to Roman than any other cousins in the family.

"Whatever happened between you two?" Jey asked. I don't wanna bring up the past, but she got you pretty distracted." Cody sighed as he looked down at his drink. "She did get me distracted. I can't even tell how because I don't know how."

It was a half lie. Of course, he knew how she distracted him, but he was unsure what led up to that night.

Neither of them was drunk; there was no buildup or arguments.

He couldn't take it anymore. He blacked out.

"Aye, whatever she's trying to do, just know it's all Roman who's behind it," Jey said as he drowned the last bit of drink in his glass cup. He then stood up and grabbed Cody's shoulders, shaking him. "You just won the Royal Rumble for the second time; we should be celebrating uce!"

Cody smiles as he lets out a laugh. "Alright, alright, let's get on the celebration then,"

"Yeet!" Jey exclaimed. "Aye, let's get another bottle over here!"

Cody laughed as a bottle made its way towards the two men. However, despite the drinks, despite the celebrating he and Jey were doing

You were still in the back of his head

-

It's been a week. It was a week that started as a celebration, to confusion and questions, to an answer that you thought was the dumbest thing Cody had ever made.

The minute you saw your other cousin, Dwayne, backstage on Smackdown, you were convinced it had something to do with Roman.

What you didn't think was going to happen was Cody telling the whole world that he would not be facing Roman at WrestleMania, just for Dwayne to appear as Roman's new opponent.

You didn't want to interact with Cody again, incredibly when distracting him. But you also never wanted Cody to give up his opportunity to face Roman at WrestleMania and become champion. You weren't that heartless.

You stood backstage, watching the whole thing play out, Dwayne and Roman face to face as Cody walked out of the ring.

As the two made eye contact, your eyes drifted towards the curtains—the same curtains Cody had come out of.

His expression was numb but readable. You knew Cody wasn't fond of giving up his WrestleMania spot to Dwayne. You had no idea how or why this sudden feeling of care came from, but the moment Cody broke eye contact and began to walk off, your hands found themselves on his arms, pulling him back.

"That was an idiotic decision to make," You spoke. At first, Cody didn't look at you, but when you said what he said, he looked at you.

"Why do you care?" He asked.

"I don't," you lied. Cody called bullshit through your words. But he didn't say anything. He just sighed, like he always does.

"It doesn't matter why I made my decision," he said. “You don't have to follow your cousin's plan and get me off track. I did everyone a favor."

You rolled your eyes at Cody. It was now your turn to see his bullshit, only this time you called him out for it. "You knew, regardless, our interaction would happen the moment you won the Royal Rumble. It took a lot to get in your head last year, and now you're giving up so easily." You said. "Drop whatever act you got going on."

Cody remained silent as he stared at you, digesting your words. You were right; he was giving up so easily. He wouldn't admit that you had got in his head, just like the millions of people he has interacted with this week.

Seth Rollins, Adam Pearce, Nick Aldis, Dwayne, you. His head was all over the place right now, and the last thing he wanted to do was drown himself with a bottle in his bus.

His head momentarily snapped out of his thoughts as he realized how close the two were. He could smell you. You smelled amazing.

Like Vanilla.

And his cologne was just as strong as your scent as you fought against it, clouding your head.

You noticed the way his eyes wandered down you, making you feel exposed, hot even. Cody couldn't help but stare at you just for a moment. He knew his weakness when it came to you was your skin.

Oh, it would feel great to touch and taste you right now. The outfit spun his head, which showed much more skin than expected.

You didn't even do anything, and Cody was already getting distracted.

And so were you, as you didn't realize both your cousins and Heyman were walking out the curtains, only to see how incredibly close you two were.

"Y/N!" Roman's voice was powerful and low and caused you to flinch as you let go of Cody's arms, creating space for him.

Both Dwayne and Roman look at you. It's imitating having one look at you. Both? It felt like they were scolding you. You couldn't even look at them.

And Cody noticed this. He could glimpse fear in your eyes.

Y/N, afraid of your cousin, Cody thought. He knew that you do whatever Roman tells you to do. But he's now starting to believe he controls you too much.

"Let's go," Roman looks at you. You didn't say anything as you walked off. Heyman follows behind you as Cody watches you leave.

However, he notices Roman staring at him. Cody narrowed his eyes at Roman as the two just stood there.

Roman has never questioned you about Cody. The man he despises is eyeing his little cousin, whom he considers more of a sister.

It has him questioning if something is going on between the two of you that he's missing.

-

Next Part

[beenbaanbuun]

guess w/ jung wooyoung

words - idk… stream brat 🥰

genre - smut

warnings - dom!wooyoung, little dick!wooyoung, panties!wooyoung, hes a little shit in this, f!bodied reader (no boobs mentioned), foot play, mild cock stepping, gagging, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, degradation (loser), i think that’s it but tell me if i missed anything

——————————————————————————-

“can we play a game?” wooyoung asks as soon as he steps into the bedroom the both of you share. his hair is still damp from the shower, dripping little droplets onto his tan chest. you follow one of them with your eyes, watching as it rolls over his pecs, and then his stomach, before meeting its end as it soaks into the waistband on his grey sweats. you swallow thickly as your gaze flickers back up to meet his, arrogant and cocky as it so often is. the heat that rises to your face contradicts the way you roll your eyes and scoff, and wooyoung doesn’t believe your little act for a second.

he dives onto the bed, immediately shuffling closer until he’s able to wipe his mess of damp hair against the skin of your neck. the temptation to wriggle away is strong, but then he wraps his arms around your waist and traps you there. evil little brat, you think to yourself as his pretty giggles fill your ears. even then you can’t help but smile.

“get off of me,” you groan, wriggling your arm between the two of you in a desperate attempt to jimmy you apart. he doesn’t move an inch, much to your dismay, “you’re that desperate to get beaten in mario kart again?”

he smiles into your neck, lifting his mouth to your skin to nip at you gently. again, you try to shift but to no avail; you’re well and truly trapped in his grasp.

“you say that like you always beat me,” he purrs.

“because i do?” you laugh in response. he gives your side a nip with his fingers to quieten you down.

“well maybe i want to play a different game, baby,” wet lips press to the sensitive spot just below your ear. they suck gently, pulling a soft sigh from your lips. this time you don’t try and pull away; you simply fall limp in his grasp and let him mark you up. the fact that you have work in the morning is one you’re choosing to ignore. “maybe,” he whispers upon pulling away, “i want to play a game i know i’ll win.”

upon hearing those words, something inside of you sparks to life. a side of you that only rears its ugly head in instances like this, when your boyfriend chooses to set you a challenge he knows you can’t refuse. it’s a certain bloodlust you get in the face of competition; the urge to crush your components to nothing before taking the victory for yourself. wooyoung finds it hot for some reason, but you can’t help but feel like that isn’t why he’s challenging you now. you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“why?” you ask, “what’s the catch?”

he smirks against your neck before drawing his teeth slowly across your pulse point. in a past life, there’s no way he wasn’t a vampire… either that or some sort of feral rat.

“if you win, i’ll do whatever you tell me to,” he bites down and you let out a half-pained, half-pleasured whimper. it’s music to his ears, his own soft moan buzzing through you as it escapes his lips. he pulls back ever so slightly, his tongue tumbling over his lips to lap at the teeth marks littering your skin. “but if i win, you do whatever i tell you to.”

it’s tempting, you have to admit. even with wooyoung acting so confident that he’ll win, you can’t help but feel that excited little buzz beneath your skin whenever the two of you engage in friendly—unless it’s monopoly—competition. realistically you should’ve thought about it more before nodding your head…

“sure, baby,” you hum, “tell me what i have to do to win.”

“you won’t,” he sounds so smug.

“just tell me, wooyoung.”

he laughs against your neck before pulling away. you almost miss the contact, especially when a cold draft ripples through the room and brushes against that wet patch of skin he left in his wake. there’s an urge to scold him, to tell him off for wiping his sodden locks all over your soft skin, but as he crawls his way to sit between your calves, all complaints are forgotten. a warm hand comes to rest on your bare kneecap, tender and teasing as his fingers doodle patterns upon your thigh.

“guess the colour of my underwear,” he commands, letting his hand slip up your thigh. it comes to rest where the hemline of his oversized t-shirt sits, just barely covering anything at all. fuck, he knows how to get you hot and bothered; he’s actually rather talented at it. “three tries baby; you’ll need them…”

and with that, he dips his fingers below his t-shirt that covers your torso and hooks his fingers beneath your panties. your breath hitches in your throat as he tugs them aside, that very same draft brushing over your core. you’re wetter than you realised, you think to yourself as a shiver runs up your spine; it makes it so very easy for his fingers to slide up your folds.

and for a second you can’t think of anything other than that, the pads of his fingers rubbing against you, barely touching your clit before moving back down to collect more of your wetness from your dripping hole. every time you think he’s going to slip a finger inside of you, he moves it away to tease you some more. he gives you everything and nothing at the same time, touching you, but never where you want. you shoot him a look of displeasure to which he responds with a smirk.

“guess, baby,” he says with a wicked smirk as he just barely touches your clit, “you won’t get your prize unless you at least try.”

there’s an annoying lilt to his voice that you wish you could rip from his throat. it’s so clear that he thinks he’s in charge, that he’s going to defeat you. he isn’t, you try and convince yourself as you let the word ‘black’ fall from your lips; most of his underwear is black, after all. your resolve crumbles a little when he shakes his head and throws you a smirk.

fuck.

perhaps black was too obvious of a guess. almost all of his underwear is black—it would be silly of him to have such confidence in himself if his underwear was just… a regular wooyoung colour. you almost let out a sound of dismay, only for it to be rudely interrupted by a moan as wooyoung inserts a single lithe finger into your hole, right to the hilt. you squirm, trying to get him to brush up against that all-important spot. he doesn’t, simply pulling it free from your core once more.

“fuck you, woo,” you whine as he giggles to himself, “i guess red! you’re wearing those stupid red boxers i hate because you’re an annoying little shit!”

his giggles only grow as he shakes his head once more. “one more guess, baby; what’s it going to be?”

you ponder for a second or two, wracking your brain over every single item of underwear you know he owns. you do his washing so it should be easy for you, but all you’re coming up with is black, black, grey, red, black. it’s not black, and it’s not red, and grey seems like such an easy guess…

that’s when it strikes you; the perfect answer. it fits so well, what, with wooyoung being a little trickster and all. you let out a heavy breath, a soft chuckle following it. “you’re not wearing underwear, are you?” you feel so smart saying it, so proud of yourself for figuring it out! the little shit loves to work in riddles, every single bone in his body screaming mischief.

but then his face lights up in a wicked grin and you know in that moment that you’ve lost. you don’t need the words that follow, or the cocky shaking of his head as he pops his dirtied finger in his mouth. the evil look in his eyes as he slurps your juices from his digit is enough to let you know just what you’re in for. part of you wants to argue, to tell him that he’s cheated in some way and barter an extra guess out of him. he won’t give it to you though; you know him well enough to know that he’s about as gracious at winning as you are at losing. you swallow your complaints down and fold your arms.

“well what are you wearing then?” you huff. he shrugs as he pulls his finger from his mouth with a pop.

“i don’t know, baby,” he bites his lip, “why don’t you come and take a look, hm?”

you roll your eyes, a deep sigh leaving your lips. “wooyoung, don’t be a dick,” you say, gently nudging him with your toes. just as you’re about to withdraw them, he grabs your foot and drags it onto his lap. you can feel his bulge, although a little small, rock into the sole of your foot, and wooyoung moans beautifully. even you can’t deny how beautiful he sounds, even if he is an annoying little brat.

“i think you’re forgetting who won,” he moans as he rocks into the appendage again, not even trying to hide his desperation as he humps your foot. you can see it in the way his teeth sink into his lips, so close to drawing blood, hear it in the tiny sounds he makes as he rocks back and forth, feel it in the way his clothed cock presses against your foot over and over. you can’t help but press down a little, just enough for it to send a jolt through his spine as a mixture of pain and pleasure courses through his body. he’s quick to put a stop to it, his grip tightening as he pushes your foot away from him. “i’m in charge tonight, my little demon. you lost, after all.”

he puts a hand on either leg, pinning them in place as he shuffles up the bed. your legs are forced apart, wooyoung settling between your thighs, just within arms reach. “now be a good little loser and take a look for yourself, hm?” he smirks down at you, “i know you’re not very good at letting other people win, but you can at least give me my prize, can’t you?” his hands snake up your thighs until they’re gripping at the fat of your hips. no doubt there’ll be fingertip-shaped bruises by tomorrow morning, but you’ve had worse; you’ve had your ass painted pink for days before. this is nothing.

with gritted teeth, you unfold your arms and thrust your hands out to grab at his waistband. you waste no time in tugging it down, desperate to see what he could possibly be wearing that made him so sure he was going to win, only to see….

holy fuck.

you choke on your spit as your hands drop to your sides. it’s nothing like what you were expecting, and yet it’s better than anything you could’ve dreamed of. you see pretty pastel pink, but more importantly you see lace. lots and lots of lace. you can see right through it, right to his pretty little cock that strains against it, red and leaking precum all over the translucent material. his cock was made for underwear like that; so dainty and precious. you want to touch it, feel its heat through the soft material, but you’re frozen; your eyes shift to wooyoung’s for guidance.

“see, loser?” his voice is so condescending and if you weren’t so incredibly turned on by his pretty little dick in those pretty little panties, perhaps you would’ve put up a fight. as it is, all you can do is stare up at him with parted lips and wide eyes. it’s like all your self-respect has crumbled at the simple sight of some lace imprints on your boyfriend's cock. “they’re pink!” he dips his head down until it's next to your ear, “now take them off.”

you nod slowly, his words sinking slowly into your brain like syrup. without even thinking, your hands move to his hips and your fingers slip beneath the waistband. they slip easily over his hips and down his smooth thighs to meet where the waistband of his sweats sits. you drag them down too and when you get to his knees, he lifts them without you even having to say please. it’s kind of him; you half expected him to make you beg. you lean forward, bumping your head against his chest as you tug them over his calves and finally over his feet.

you shift back against the headboard once more, dangling the panties between you like a dog bringing something to show its master. you’re unusually proud of yourself, to say you’d done so little. god, you need to get a hold of yourself.

but then he presses a tender kiss to your head and that thought slips away. you let yourself get swept up in the moment once more, your brain slowing down as wooyoung silently praises you. you lost, you remind yourself, and for the first time, it doesn’t make you feel something ugly. you lost and now wooyoung is in control and you’re okay with that. he pulls back and looks at you with a lovingly possessive gaze and yeah; you really are okay.

“put them in your mouth,” he says and you waste all but a millisecond thinking about it before actually responding to his command. your jaw drops and your lips open wide and the salty taste of precum mixed with the rough texture of the lace fills your mouth. it’s not exactly nice, but it still sends electricity running down your spine. one that heads straight to your core. if wooyoung weren’t sitting between them, you’d have squeezed them together to stop the empty ache that sits deep within your cunt. you need something inside of you; you need his cock.

your eyes flicker down to it and you can’t hold back a whimper. it’s only natural upon seeing something so pretty. whilst not necessarily long or thick, you find it to be perfect. it’s pretty in a way that you’ve never seen before; a pretty pale shaft topped with a pretty pink tip smeared with his pretty pearlescent precum. pretty, pretty, pretty. it’s the only word that really does it justice! and fuck does it feel good inside of you. gone are the days of the often painful stretch of a fat cock bullying its way into your under-prepared hole. now all you need is one or two fingers and the job is done. it's heavenly to not have to let your body get used to it first, to dive right into pleasure without having to force yourself to just relax into the pain.

there’s no voice whispering ‘is that good?’ in your ear when it’s, in fact, anything but good and there’s no one to tell you to ‘moan just like that’ when you’d rather be moaning because it feels good, not because it hurts. perhaps it just speaks volumes about the men you’ve been fucked by in the past, but you have no doubt that even if wooyoung was hung like a horse, it would still be the best dick you’ve ever had.

you attempt to buck your hips up to meet his, whining pathetically around your makeshift gag when his hands keep you pinned to the mattress. he chuckles, an annoying grin rising to his face as you begin to squirm in his grasp. you want it, but he won’t give it to you. even when he’s in charge he’s a little fucking brat.

“words, honey,” he says through a laugh, “oh, wait; you can’t can you? silly me… guess you’ll just have to take what i give you, baby,” he slips his fingers into the waistband of your own panties, tugging until you take the hint and lift your hips. he hums a quiet praise before tugging them down past the curve of your ass. you lift your legs to give him room to pull them completely free before flopping them back down onto the bed unceremoniously. the dominant masks he wears cracks just enough for him to pass a fond smile in your direction. it’s cute, but it’s gone within the blink of an eye. “if you need to tell me something, you take those panties out of your mouth. yellow or red, remember?”

you nod as his hands find their way back to your hips. they tug you closer until you can feel his cock grazing against your slick pussy. he bucks up against you, dragging himself through your wetness until his tip bumps softly against your clit. your eyes flutter closed as he does it again, and again, before drawing back and lining himself up.

he slides into you, the familiar shape of his member filling you up just enough to ease that empty ache you were feeling only moments before. it’s not long before he bottoms out, and when he does you hear him sigh. it’s long and deep and lets you know just how good you feel wrapped around him. it feels nice to know your pussy is appreciated.

wooyoung draws his hips back slowly before snapping them forward once more. his pelvis brushes up against your mound and you can’t help but let out a shuddered breath. you want to toy with yourself. to play with your clit and make your walls flutter around him, but he hasn’t given you permission yet. you don’t know if he even will give you permission. maybe he’ll just fuck you until he’s finished and keep you on the edge as punishment for losing. you wouldn’t be surprised; it is wooyoung after all.

but he puts your mind at ease when he slips his thumb over your sensitive bud, giving it a few gentle flicks before adding more pressure to it. you whine as he rubs circles against your wet folds, lubricating his movements as he draws pretty little sounds from your mouth. you can hear just how wet you are from the sticky sound it makes when he plays with you, but you don’t have the brain capacity to be embarrassed by it when he’s fucking you so good.

his pace is perfect, his size is delicious, and the way he plays with your clit has you seeing stars. wooyoung knows your body better than anyone that came before him and for that you adore him. he can play you like a fiddle, knowing exactly where to put his hands to pull the prettiest of sounds from your lips. within minutes he has you teetering on that all-important edge…

“fuck,” he groans as his hips begin to lose their rhythm, “baby, need you to cum first, okay?” he sucks a breath between his teeth as the speed at which his thumb moves against you increases. you keen into the panties, the sound muffled by the material. wooyoung lets his gaze flicker up to meet yours, “please, baby; i need to cum so bad but i can’t unless you do it first. baby please, cum for me. please, please, pl—”

you cut him off with a moan as you finally reach your climax, the world plummeting around you as you let your pleasure wash over you. your eyes squeeze tight and your pussy clenches tight around your boyfriend’s cock, pushing him to release his load inside of you. his own moan mixes perfectly with yours, harmonising to create a perfect little symphony; a song of pleasure that you could hear on repeat for hours and never get bored. blood rushes through your ears, acting as an instrumental to your song. it sounds perfect, and it’s over all too soon.

wooyoung lets himself collapse on top of you, cock still inside of you as it returns to its flaccid state. immediately the dominance melts away leaving your cuddly boyfriend behind who once again seems intent on rubbing his wet hair into the crevice of your neck. the stands rub against the bite mark from earlier and you can’t help but grunt in complaint at the sensitive mark being touched so carelessly. a hand slips up to pull the panties from your mouth and you toss them to the other side of the room in dismay.

“get your soggy head away from me,” you mumble, trying to push wooyoung away as he folds himself around you like origami. it’s like nothing had even transpired between you; no pink panties, no competition, no being fucked by your weirdly bratty dom of a boyfriend. it’s weird, yet it feels so natural. “you’re so annoying.”

“what?” he asks, “it’s not like you’re not going to have to hit the shower yourself. we can go together to save water!” you give him a light tap to the side of the head.

“get fucked, wooyoung,” despite your dismay, you wrap your arms around him and hold him close, “if you think i’m letting you fuck me in the shower after last time, you’re severely mistaken.”

he sighs, and you can tell he’s rolling his eyes without even having to look at his face.

“wooyoung,” you scoff, “you’re such a brat.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This one's the first of many doozies. I recommend you clock out now if you think the following will distress you: mentions of rape, but no scenes or explicit description. If not, read on! Chapter Title is from Rebel Rebel by David Bowie.

Word Count: 7.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Your first mission is delivered, and it goes about as expected. Contains usual tags, emphasis on mention of rape/non-con.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

When your team stepped into the safe house, you could see the moment the smell hit their noses.

“Merde,” Frenchie was the first to speak, a poor omen within itself. “What the fuck am I smelling?”

“Uh, probably the milk and meat. They’re the strongest.”

Annie said your name carefully, watching your reaction as she spoke. “What happened.”

“He wouldn’t put away the groceries.” You said with a shrug. You were over it. It was like, ten bad things ago.

“So you just. Left them out?” Hughie said, seemingly baffled.

“Yeah.”

“Mallory said she delivered them on the first night.” Annie glanced between you and Hughie.

“She did.”

Hughie’s eyes widened further. “That was almost two weeks ago.” When you just nodded in agreement, he pushed further. “They’ve been out the whole time?”

You frowned. “He doesn’t get to win.”

“What are you, five?” 

You just sighed, giving Hughie a pleading look. “Don’t tell MM.”

“What?” Butcher taunted from the back of the group. “That he was right, and you can’t handle Soldier Boy?”

“I thought you were on my side about this.”

“I’m on the side of the truth, Love.”

Both you, Annie, and Frenchie let out huffs of amusement at that claim, with Hughie looking sheepishly amused.

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Annie gave Butcher a pointed look. He only winked in response, leaving her to turn back to you with an eye roll.

“Has it been like this,” Hughie gestured vaguely around him. “The whole time?”

“Nah. Worse.”

Really, hell would be a better word for it. After the knife incident, there had been the toilet paper incident, which you had won, the coffee incident, also your victory, the laundry incident, point Soldier Boy, the TV incident, point you, and the Lord of the Rings incident, another point Soldier Boy. The Elton John, Jimmy Carter, and Rockefeller Center incidents had ended in stalemates akin to the Cold War, but should those fuses reignite, you were sure you could take them home. Overall, you’d burned him seven times, he’d thrown two chairs at you, you tossed shit in his face once and threatened castration on fifteen separate occasions, and he had offered to sleep with you thirty-one times.

“He hasn’t, he hasn’t hurt you. Right?” Hughie wasn’t fully looking at you when he asked, his voice soft and nervous.

“No. I mean, he’s tried. Not in… that way, but I’ve had a few things thrown at me. All the physical violence died out around the laundry incident, though. Now we’re using psychological warfare.”

“Laundry incident?” Hughie said at the same time that Frenchie said, “Psychological warfare?”

“Don’t ask.” Was your response to both. You’d avoid revisiting the laundry incident in your mind for the rest of your life if you could help it, and the actual practice of your warfare was more childish than you’d like to admit.

“Well, as lovely as a reunion this has been, we need to talk to you both. Where’s the cunt,  anyway?" Butcher craned his neck to look down the hall.

“Probably moping around in his room.” You shrugged. “Let’s talk in the living room, standing at the door is weird.”

While the living room hadn’t taken even close to as much damage as the kitchen, it had not escaped you and Soldier Boy’s sparring unscathed. Books provided by the CIA, which were mostly stereotypical classics, had been upended from their shelves and strewn across the floor. The TV was still intact, as was the sofa, but the former was stuck on PBS, and the latter was, at this point, compromised of 70% trash.

“Holy shit,” Hughie muttered as he stepped over a copy of Catcher in the Rye. “You can’t plan on living like this the whole time?”

“Well, if America’s number one man-baby would stop moaning and bitching about his glory days, then maybe, yeah.”

Annie gave you a concerned look. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll castrate him.” Though the threat had now been made sixteen times, it never satisfied you less to say it.

“I’ve told you, Sunshine, if you did that, you would only be hurting yourself.”

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained over you with tense gazes. You turned to find Soldier Boy almost directly behind you. “I’ve told you, by definition, I’d only be hurting you.”

He gave a mocking pout. “Wouldn’t that plague your perfect little conscious?”

“I’d live.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Prude.”

“Manwhore.”

“Whiny Brat.”

“Waste of space.”

“Waste of good pussy.”

“Waste of government money.”

“Waste of Compound V.”

“Pathetic, assfaced Dickwad.”

“Stuck up, pretentious Ice Queen.”

“Geriatric, entitled, blue-balled G.I. Joe Fuckdoll”

The room had practically vanished around you as you and Soldier Boy fell into your now well-tread path of insults. Your blood was burning with that feeling, aching to burst across the room as both of you glared hard enough to, fingers crossed, kill the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Hughie said, breaking you out of your own spell.

“What are they doing here?” Soilder Boy asked, somehow having only just clocked their presence. “Do I finally get to do my job and leave?”

“No,” Annie answered. “We have no way of knowing how long you’ll be here at this point.”

“That’s what I said,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your team.

“Yeah,” Soldier Boy said at full volume. “And I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Will you get off my ass about it now?”

“I think you like me on your ass, Sunshine. My offer never leaves the table.”

“Cunt.”

“Bitch.”

“Helpless man-child.”

“Prissy tease.”

“Glorified propaganda poster-“

“No,” Annie cut it. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Party pooper,” Butcher grumbled. “I was hoping they’d kill each other this time. Then we could just go home.”

“Well, did you at least bring me drugs?” Soldier Boy seemed to search the room, as if a pile of weed and coke would miraculously appear on the floor amongst the mess of wrappers and fluid-filled paper towels.

“We’re not buying you drugs with government money.” Annie said, giving you a look of apology. “As I’m sure you’ve been told.”

“Many times,” you affirm under your breath. You’d had to hide the glue on day five, which had let to the toilet paper incident on day six. A day had not passed since where you didn’t catch him trying to turn a new household object into something to snort.

“I thought weed was fucking legal now.” Soldier Boy glared at you, as if you were personally responsible for the CIA not buying him blunts. “It’s a free fucking country. I should be able to smoke whenever I damn please.”

“Porn is legal,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean the federal government is going to bring you some.”

“If they brought me porn and weed, I’d be far more open to whatever shit you want from me.” He winked at you.

“We gave you that last time,” Hughie pointed out, shifting nervously. “It barely helped.”

“Will you be a good little supe if we come back with porn and weed? Because we can go and-“

“No, we need to do this now.” Annie spoke over Butcher, and you noticed a line of worry on her forehead, along with Hughie’s nervous fidgeting. Though Butcher didn’t seem plagued by an anxious tell, he relented to Annie faster than you’d ever seen, and alarm bells went off in your head.

“Annie,” you bit the bullet, asking softly. “What is the ‘this’ you need us for?”

She gave you an apologetic look. “Trial run.”

“Trial run?”

“We’re giving you a test, Love.” Butcher said with a smirk. “See if your little experiment is even viable. Maybe take out a player in the process. All depends on if you and him,” he jerked his head to Soldier Boy. “Do your jobs right.”

“I don’t need your little ‘test’ to know if I can do my job.” Soldier Boy snapped.

“Last time you failed,” Hughie muttered.

Frenchie nodded in agreement. “In a spectacular manner, yes.”

“Because that bitch and that pussy stopped me.” An angry scowl was thrown at Annie and Butcher, who returned it and grinned widely back respectively.

“You were going to kill a kid,” Annie said coldly.

“He shouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”

“The line of fire? Do you hear yourself? Do you really care about others so little that-“

“I’d do it again,” he snapped back, unbothered by Annie’s disgust. “You don’t get to ask me for help and get mad when I do.”

You gave Butcher a pointed look. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

Though all you got in response was a grunt from Butcher, Soldier Boy’s eyes shot to you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You returned his glare, steeling your own eyes to match his interrogating gaze. “We’re removing the ‘kill a kid’ option from your choices. You want to know why we’re stuck here? Because you fucked it last time, and we won’t let you fuck up again.”

“You won’t let me?” He sneered, leering at you coldly. “You don’t let me do anything, Sunshine.”

If the “Sunshine” thing continued to stick, you might have to throw yourself off a roof. But you didn’t flinch, just tilting your head mockingly. “You wouldn’t need a shock collar if you hadn’t bit the hand.”

“I wouldn’t bite the hand if it hadn’t tried to kill me.”

“Nobody tried to kill you, Mate.” Butcher interjected. Soldier Boy’s anger switched back to him with fists curling at his side, but Butcher kept talking with a bored drawl. “You shouldn’t have bloody fucked up.”

“And, like I said,” you shrugged. “It won’t happen again.”

“If I see the shot, I’ll take it. Whether you like it or not.”

Looking into his eyes, you believed him. No doubt fogged your brain that, given the opportunity, Soldier Boy wouldn’t hesitate to take out Ryan Butcher with Homelander. Part of you, the angry and bitter part still trapped underground, understood that. But you’d see Ryan once, from afar, and he had looked so young. You didn’t have to imagine his fear or touch him to understand what it was like. For your life to change abruptly and without reason, to have to sprint to keep up with your new one. Soldier Boy had volunteered for this life. Ryan hadn’t. You hadn’t.

So, holding Soldier Boy’s gaze, you made your voice clear and steady. “You don’t get to take the shot until it’s clear. Ryan will be out of the picture before you even see Homelander.” You turned to Annie. “What’s the test?”

“Head-popper.” Butcher answered for Annie with an odd look at you. His voice carried the usual light and oddly joyful tone he used when discussing murdering supes, but his eyes on yours were quieter, with less manic vengeance than you’d seen before. If you didn’t know better, you’d call them thankful.

“Head-popper?”

Hughie jumped in at your confused frown. “Neuman.”

“Oh,” you paused, looking over Hughie’s worried face. “We’re going after Neuman?”

“Who the fuck is Neuman?” Soldier Boy asked with a reluctant grumble. You had picked up on his consistent annoyance with new things after you’d found him screaming at the microwave three days ago, and not knowing new people didn’t seem to be any different.

“She’s a supe who can pop people’s heads like balloons.” Frenchie gestured in imitation for effect. “It’s disgusting.”

“And she’s the VP elect, which would put an ally of Homelander in the White House, one step from the Oval Office.” Annie said pointedly, giving Frenchie a look. You offered him a small smile over her head. Though the demonstration hadn’t been helpful, watching his hands fly around mimicking Neuman’s powers was undeniably entertaining.

“She's dangerous,” Hughie added. “But she’s not a bad person. We don’t want to kill her, just remove her powers.”

“What do we need her for then?” You didn’t have to look to know Soldier Boy’s accusation was directed at you. You bit your tongue, trying to ignore the way the words seeped into your skin.

Because he’s right. A cruel whisper said into your ear, and the itch on your skin began to feel like a rash. You were saved from the plague of your thoughts—the urgent feeling to fall prompted by almost nothing—by Butcher.

“If you think you’re going anywhere without her, Governor, you’d better get used to being wrong. She’s there for the same reason she’s here. So you don’t go postal.”

Soldier Boy gave you an unreadable look as the rush of your heart in your chest slowed from Butcher’s words. You turned away from him, but you could almost feel his eyes through your skull as you looked at Butcher with a blank face.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, praying it would be simple, with as few people as possible around and, ideally, in the middle of a desert filled exclusively with fire extinguishers.

“MM and Kimiko are doing recon on one of Bob Singer’s rallies. Frenchie will create a distraction for the secret service, and Neuman’s personal detail is going to suddenly disappear-“

“Disappear?” You interrupted Butcher with raised eyebrows.

“Keep your panties on, they’ve been bribed. Once she’s isolated, Soldier Boy’ll blast her, and we can all go home confident in your little gambit.”

You hesitated, trying to imagine the last political rally you’d seen. Group of people in tight groups, electrical wiring for microphones, speakers, and lights. Gates and closed doors, hallways leading out onto streets. “How are we going to isolate her?”

“Me and Butcher will work on that,” Annie said, almost reaching for you with a reassuring pat, but thinking better and jerking her arm back. She opened her mouth, an apology certainly on her, but you raised your hand to cut her off.

“How long until we leave?” You asked. Maybe they’d say ‘three hours’ and you’d get to talk to someone who didn’t think swing music was sonically viable for a bit.

Hughie checked his watch. “Ten minutes ago.”

“Ago?” Your eyes widened.

He gave you a sheepish look. “We thought it would take less time to get you.” He turned to Soldier Boy. “Your suit’s in the van. I can bring it out-“

“I can change on the way.” Soldier Boy grumbled, ignoring Hughie’s start of sputtering protests. “Let’s get this over with.”

———-

Much to his annoyance, they had forgotten Ben’s shield, and nobody would let him change in the van. He tried several times, only to be met by a chorus of groans, shouting, and swearing. He had listened to their complaints only because she had started giving him a look he recognized as a flag for a storm of uncontrolled fire. No hot disgust or sparks of rage, only a cold and quiet, almost glassy-eyed stare. Her heart steady but her breathing too fucking controlled to be natural, measured so equally that it sounded mechanical. So, because he figured she would only become more bitchy to live with if she incinerated her alleged “friends”, Ben stopped trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Once he did, the van fell insufferably silent. The edged pleasantries and conversation he’d overheard during Butcher and his band of Assholes arrival had ceased save for tense questions and hushed conversations. Ben didn’t fail to notice all the spineless avoidance and careful words directed at them both. She, even after the foggy look faded, remained curled into a corner, trading small and toothless smiles with her team. More timid than he’d seen her before, almost like a scolded child as she looked around the van nervously. Her eyes watched the shadows as though Homelander himself might jump from them, the chew of her lip giving Ben a headache. The only words she spoke were a jab at Ben when he’d said something about political rallies post-election being fucking pathetic—giving him a lecture about American politics now heavily depending on something called “going viral”—only to fall silent once more after. Her team looked at her like a glass bomb, as if she was a delicate statue looming over their heads and not the vulgar, violent woman who slept down the hall from him. That woman infuriated him, testing his patience every time she opened her mouth, but this paranoid, skittish pussy of a girl was so much worse. So when the van halted and Butcher’s team began to filter out, he called her name. When she ignored him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“What the fuck!” She pulled herself out of his grip in a second, staring at him with anger. She glanced down at her arms, a look he didn’t understand crossing her face, before returning her attention to him. “Do not touch me.”

“I barely touched you,” he glowered, annoyance quickly flooding him. He had only brushed skin, with a light grip she had thrown off, there was no need to be so dramatic. “When I touch you for real, you’ll fucking know, Sunshine. And you’ll fucking beg for it. I needed to make you listen, you were fucking ignoring me.”

Her brows knit, and he heard the chew of her teeth on her tongue. “I’m not going to beg for anything, and I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I said your name, and you kept fucking walking.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She snapped, but didn’t relent. “Speak up next time.”

She knew just as well as Ben did that they were both far from quiet, pussy-voiced fuckers. And while he definitely hadn’t yelled for her attention, it shouldn’t have fucking mattered. He’d seen her pick up his grumbled insults and mocking comments just fine over the past two weeks. “Bitch.”

“What do you want?” She asked with a sigh, ignoring his jab and looking at him as if he exhausted her just by breathing. “We have to go, and you still need to change.”

“You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.” He said, not hiding the contempt from his voice. He wasn’t going to skirt around his thoughts, lining them gently to help her fucking feelings.

Her body tensed, her limbs looking as if they’d locked into place. “Like what?” Ben heard her swallow as she answered, her voice not lost enough to make her sound clueless to his words.

“Like you’re a child they have to coddle. A problem they have to deal with.”

She stared at him, her glassy-eyes returning. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, cunt-face.”

Ben snorted. “They don’t treat you like the bitch you are. They always use that sweet, pussy voice, like they’re talking to a fucking puppy, when they say something to you. They’re always all fucking pouty when they look at you, pussyfooting around so they don’t make you sad.” He gave her a mocking grin, hoping the next words landed like a bullet. “They treat you like me.”

It had clearly worked, as the van had grown hot, and her eyes were clearing as her heart began to pick up. Ben felt an odd feeling cover him as he heard it, almost familiar and sparking pride in his chest. She wasn’t a jittery shell anymore, she was going to try and kill him. It made his grin grow genuine, and the van grew only more heated, the air waving around them.

Her mouth opened, and Ben hoped whatever came out of it would be vile and crude.

“Hey!” She turned her head and clenched her jaw as someone called her name from outside, the van rattling as a fist banged against it. “We need to go!”

The door opened to reveal the Cocksucker, whose face grew quickly red, a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, as he was blasted with a quickly dying wave of heat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning from Ben as the heat dropped further. “Coming.”

Cocksucker gave her a worried look, his gaze flying quickly to Ben, but just nodded and stood aside for her to move past.

As the door closed and Ben began to change, he listened for their soft, tense words.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Cocksucker’s voice was nervous and gentle, like being suffocated by one of those fucking fluffy blankets Ben had seen in the empty bedroom of the safe house.

“No, he just grabbed me to talk. And you don’t have to keep asking me that. I’m fine, and it’s not as helpful as you think it is.” Ben frowned at her voice, the malice from it drained entirely in only a few seconds, replaced with only a tired hollowness.

“Grabbed you?! Like, he touched you?”

Having anticipated Cocksucker being more interested in the “talk” part of her sentence, or the shit that sounded like it was about feelings, Ben's brain rattled over Cocksucker’s word, his tone of panic looping in Ben’s head. He spoke of Ben’s touch as though it were a plague, and not something many people would kill to feel. Ben almost burst out of the van to say just that, but froze when he heard her answer.

“It was fast, I didn’t feel much. Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go the rest of my life without touching people.” Her voice had a finality to it, and Ben could almost picture her downturned lips and wrinkled brow.

“You touch us when you heal us.” Even Cocksucker’s voice didn’t sound sure of his response.

“It’s not the same, and you know that.”

There was a momentary stall in their words, and Ben took the opportunity to emerge, securing his belt as he walked to the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but Cocksucker looking pathetically around, anywhere but the woman as she curved into herself, wasn’t it. She held a white-knuckle grip on the sleeves of her jacket, her thumb running up and down in small movements. They both turned to him as the door banged open, and Ben caught the empty look behind her eyes before her indifference slipped back into place.

“Did you hurry me just to sit around like pussies, or are we going to start fucking moving?” He asked, the air feeling too uncomfortable to sit in.

Cocksucker blinked, glancing at his watch. “We have a few minutes until they arrive, but I guess it can’t hurt to be vigilant-“

“Arrive?” The woman’s eyes widened, and Ben saw smoke curl from her hold on her jacket. “They’re coming here?”

Cocksucker nodded. “It’s a high-security escape exit-“

“It’s a fucking street, Hughie.”

“That’s used as a high-security escape exit.” After a moment of searching the area, Cocksucker pointed a few yards down, at a large door set against brick. “Neuman will come right out of there, and her guards will close her out here, where Soldier Boy will blast her.” He paused, glancing at Ben, before looking back at the door and taking small, cowardly steps away from his spot between them.

“It’s a public area, anyone could walk past! What the fuck were you thinking?!” Her voice was hushed and agitated, and Ben had never seen her face lose color at that speed before, had never heard her heart stutter and jump as if trying to escape her body.

“It’ll be fine,” Cocksucker’s voice wavered, giving them both a nervous look. “It should be fine. MM said it would be fine.”

“You heard him, Sunshine,” Ben gave her a wink, adding a half-cocked smile when she didn’t even return him with a dirty look. “MM said it would be fine. And have some fucking faith in me, I’m not a fucking monster. I won’t blast any running pussies except for this head-popper broad.”

“You don’t even know what she looks like.” Her tone wasn’t quite the vicious mockery he was used to, but it was better than the apathetic, empty voice she’d been using. She was rolling on the balls of her feet, speaking without looking at him, her eyes moving restlessly from the door to the end of the street. “And I don’t believe you.”

Ben just shrugged, allowing the silence to hang. The wind was picking up, whistling through the chill of winter air, making the heat around them, emitting from both Ben and the woman, all the more obvious. Despite the biting cold, Cocksucker had taken off his stupid puffy jacket, even stepping back further from where they stood, with Ben in the center of the street and the woman off to the left. Despite her slowly stepping further and further back, her back now almost against the wall, Ben could feel her watching him, hear her heart continue its new and erratic beat.

“How long now, Hughie?” Her voice was raised to carry over the wind, though it hadn’t lost that stupid fucking weakness. Cocksucker, thank fuck, didn’t get a chance to respond with pathetically comforting words, as only one skipping heartbeat after she spoke a shrill fire alarm sounded.

“I’m assuming that’s your stupid French fuck's plan?” Ben asked dryly. “Start a fucking fire? I thought you pussies were all about minimal damage.”

“He probably just pulled the alarm.” The Cocksucker’s answer lacked any confident assurance. “And I think we’re just against needless murder.”

Ben almost started to rant about their so-called needless murder being a mighty high horse for a group of people who had manipulated him just as much as Vought, who’d been willing to help him kill all those backstabbing pussies from Payback so he’d help them. About how their stupid fucking moral purity complex seemed to adjust perfectly to aid them, and maybe he wasn’t a fucking angel, but he was strong and powerful—something they fucking needed—man, and he wasn’t a pussyfaced liar about what he was, what he did. The words died on his tongue, though, as hundreds of frenzied footsteps reached his ears.

“Fuck!” he growled, turning around and pointing at Cocksucker. “You fucking pussy.”

Cocksucker gave him an idiotically confused stare. “Dude, uncalled for.”

“She,” Ben pointed to the woman, whose heart was beating impossibly fast and looking on with a bloodless face. “Was fucking right. This is a stupid plan, because unless your head-popper walks like a human centipede, it’s not going to be just her that I fucking hit when that door opens.”

Cocksucker only gaped at him like a fish as the footsteps grew louder, annoyingly unsure stutters  escaping him, and just as Ben decided it might be good to slap the idiot out of his daze, the woman stepped forward.

“We need to move, Hughie. Now.” Her voice wasn’t steady, her whole body was tensed and hyper, but it held a determination Ben almost admired. “We can’t be here.”

“He- he could be fucking lying, or wrong-“

“That’s not a risk we can afford to take.” She cut off Cocksucker’s doubts, and Ben found himself surprised at her defense of him, even if it could barely be called that. Her hands were smoking once more, but she had firmly planted herself in the middle of the road, eyes turning sharply to Ben. “If people see you, any element of surprise over Homelander would be lost. We need to fucking move, you need to get in the fucking van now-“

The door banged open, and the streets flooded as hoards of people in star and stripe-themed outfits flooded the road. Everything became so loud, and that rapt, snapping sound in Ben’s head started to spread through him, spurring the drum in his chest. They were finding rhythm so fast, everything fading as Ben tried to slow it. But there were screams and shouts, and everything was getting further and further away from him while carving into him all the same, so though Ben could hear the sounds of metal clanging and shouts of his supe name, he couldn’t think anything past the beat beat beat, until he lost it all at once.

As his vision grew clear with his head, Ben expected to see shattered bodies and bloody walls. Instead, all he saw was the woman and fire. Her face was flushed red, her eyes crazed, and her clothes had become charred with holes as the fire surged from her into a barrier, cutting them off from the crowd. Cocksucker was yelling her name, urging them both to return to the van and leave, but as Ben moved, he glanced back to see the woman frozen and heard her heart as if it were his own. The wall was growing wider and shooting high, Cocksucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up about moving, but her eyes had squeezed shut, unresponsive to anything but the growing flames.

“We need to fucking go, now!” Ben turned to see a large man he vaguely recognized barreling down their side of the street, his face twisted in anger. Butcher, Starlight, a small woman he remembered fighting, and that French prick followed him, all loading into the van as the large man stopped beside Cocksucker.

“I told you he’d fucking blow it,” the man said, giving Ben a disgusted look, so flawlessly revolted Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fucking practiced in the mirror.

“Hey, I didn’t fucking blow it, you pussy-“

“You said that Neuman would come out of here, that it would just be her!” Cocksucker, much to Ben’s shock, cut him with a high voice and a wave at the wall of fire. “That’s way more than just her! Is she even there?!”

“No,” the man said gruffly. “Neuman saw Butcher and figured out something was up. She’s long gone.”

“Fuck!” Cocksucker yelled, running a hand through his hair.

“Oi, we can go over how MM fucked up later,” Butcher leaned out from the van. “We need to go before she sends Homelander.”

“How I fucked up? You’re the one who disobeyed me and blew our cover-“

“What’s wrong with Madame Anomaly?” The French Prick appeared at Butcher's side.

Cocksucker glanced at the woman, calling her name before turning to the large man Butcher had called MM. “She absorbed Soldier Boy’s blast. I think it got her stuck.”

“We don’t have time for this. Get Soldier Boy in the van, I’ll take care of the Anomaly.” MM repeated the French Prick’s words, and Ben realized they were, for the first time, using the woman’s supe name.

“You heard him, Gov. Get in the bloody van.” Butcher’s words were clearly directed at Ben, but as he climbed into the van Ben saw Butcher’s attention locked on the woman.

MM had moved closer to the woman, a move Ben deemed more fucking stupid than brave. If she had “absorbed his blast,” as Cocksucker said, he wouldn’t recommend any non-supe be anywhere near her. MM seemed to realize this himself at the last possible second, taking a pathetic, stumbling step back with a pause. He and Cocksucker exchanged a look, something passing between them that Ben didn’t understand, before Cocksucker leaned down to grab a pebble from the road. Ben watched as he shakily shook out his arms, wound up, and tossed the pebble at the woman.

It was a terrible fucking idea, Ben didn’t have to be Einstein to know that, but the chain reaction that played out still managed to go worse than he might have guessed.

The woman whirled around, her eyes blazing, with a roar sounding from her chest. Fire shot from the wall directly at Cocksucker. In almost slow motion, Ben watched her face become painted with horror as she recognized her target, a different, fearful sound leaving her. She reached an arm out, her heart seeming to falter, and barely redirected the flames before they hit Cocksucker in the chest. The blaze just grazed Cocksucker’s arm, passed the van clear of anyone else, and hit the building with a boom.

The moment the bricks caught fire and the ground began to shake as the building crumbled, the woman's wall of fire fell. The woman herself remained upright, but only barely as MM shouted her name and she started to stumble to the van. Cocksucker was hauled in by Starlight and the French Prick, the former fussing over his burnt arm—Ben had seen worse at Herogasm and nobody whined about it—and Cocksucker waved her off. The woman pulled herself in, ignoring Butcher’s outstretched hand, and the door closed behind her. MM appeared in the driver’s seat, and as the engine started everyone fell into a heavy-breathed silence.

Through the ride, Ben watched the woman open and close her mouth a million times, returned to her fetal position in the corner but watching Cocksucker with a strained face. Her hands tapped against her still-smoking jacket, reaching out hesitantly before she pulled them back into herself. No words were spoken, not even the anxious whispers of the ride there. Ben felt relief as the van stopped, MM climbing out and opening the doors to reveal the exterior of the safe house, grateful for any excuse to leave these stupid, sniffing pussies to wallow in their failure.

MM led Ben and the woman to the doors, opened them by leaning oddly at the doorbell, and gestured for them to walk through. The man followed them in, shutting the doors behind him with a rough push.

“If we failed the test, I am not doing that fucking shit again.” Ben grumbled as MM turned around from the now-shut entrance.

“Butcher told me about the fucking mess you and him made in here.” MM ignored Ben entirely, speaking to the woman as if he wasn’t even there. “A team cleaned it up while you were gone, and Mallory will send more groceries tomorrow night. I saw a picture, it was fucking gross. I’m only doing it once, because I don’t want a new disease to develop in here. You’re an adult, you should take care of this place by your goddamn self.”

The woman looked at her feet, humming a small acknowledgment. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Is Hughie going to be okay?”

MM sighed. “The kid will live. I’ll look at him when we get back.”

“I could help-“

MM cut her off with her name. “He’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

She gave another nervous hum, and Ben jumped in.

“Can you answer my fucking question-“

“We’ll let you know what our next steps are after we talk to Mallory and Singer. This wasn’t good, but it’s not the end of the damn world.” Once again, MM ignored Ben. It was starting to feel personal. Before Ben could push further, MM reached a hand out to rest on the woman’s shoulder, right over a hole in her sleeve. Her head shot up with her heart, but the panic in her seemed to evaporate just as soon as it appeared. Her name was gentle as MM spoke it, eyes locked with hers. “You didn’t fuck up. You did your job.” She nodded slowly. “It’ll be fine.” With those last words, he exited the building, leaving Ben and the woman in the hall.

“What’s his fucking problem?” Ben grunted, half directed at the woman, half to just say it.

She gave him a flat look. “You killed his family.” Before he could come up with a clever response, honest or dodging the annoying feeling of guilt forming in his throat, the woman turned from him and walked away.

———-

You were so tired. Your bones ached, oddly cold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while, your skin crawled with feverish chills, and when you closed your eyes, you could see the flames graze Hughie and the building turn to dust. As MM’s lingering calm he’d offered you faded, all you felt was tired. Worthless. A liability. You had fucked up, just as much as Soldier Boy. Maybe more so, because he had PTSD, even if he would deny being a “hung-up pussy”. He had lost control because he’d been tortured by Russians, you’d almost killed your friend and definitely destroyed a rec center because you’d been startled. You just wanted to sleep, to deal with the inevitable fight about groceries in the morning, running on more than quickly expiring adrenaline and caffeine pills stuck in your throat.

You made it to your room, changing into one of the pajama sets folded in your drawers, hoping someone mentioned that the allegedly fire-proof wardrobe you’d been given apparently wasn’t strong enough for the full force of your fire combined with Soldier Boy’s nuclear explosions. A shame, you’d liked the pants you’d chosen for the mission. You’d live without the jacket, though. You’d hardly pulled the shirt over your head when the door ripped open, a still suit-clad Soldier Boy standing at your door.

“What fucking happened to you?” His question was blunt and confusing as he entered your room, remaining near the door but over the threshold.

Your body was too heavy to fight with him right now. There was no tense prickling on the bridge of your nose, only the throbbing stab of a headache. “Go away, Soldier Boy.”

“All of you have a fucking thing. A weird, sad reason to whine around and pretend you’re better than me.” He didn’t budge, but rather leaned forward. “What’s yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said I killed MM’s family. Butcher’s always pussying around about Homelander stealing his girl. Cocksucker mentioned something about that fast asshole doing something as well. I’m not sure what the French Prick bitches about, but I’m sure it’s something.”

“First of all, you did kill MM’s family.” You really don’t want to do this right now, but maybe he’ll give up and fuck off. A fruitless wish, a small part of you knows, but you have nothing left to push back with. “And Homelander didn’t ‘steal Butcher’s wife’, he raped her.”

“Right.” Soldier Boy watched you, his expression unreadable in the shadowy room. “Those are all fucking things. So tell me what yours is.”

“I don’t have one,” even as you speak the insistence, it sounded fake and hollow.

He takes another step forward. “Yes, you do. I saw how you froze, nobody without a thing locks up like that. I heard Cocksucker ask you if I ‘hurt you’. Just for the record, Sunshine, I may not be a Boy Scout, but I’m no fucking rapist.”

“You’ve tried to sleep with me thirty-three times.”

“And I’ll blow your mind when you realize how much you’d love it, no sooner. What’s your fucking thing.”

You stare at him, the intensity in his voice throwing you off. He’s insistent, comfortable in your room but standing at his full height, attention fixed entirely on you. That impression of dissection has returned—the feeling as if he’s trying to pick you apart for him to play with. “Why do you even care?”

“Because maybe if you tell me, I can kill what supe fucked up your pretty little head and you’ll be less of a bitch.”

You can’t stop the snort that escapes you. “What a selfish fucking cunt reason.”

He shrugged in something that could’ve been an agreement. “Maybe.” He falls silent, but doesn't leave.

You collapse to sit on the edge of your bed, staring ahead as you rub your temple. “Please just go.”

“No.”

You look at him, not caring if he sees the desperation in your eyes. “Can this not wait six hours for the morning?”

“No.”

“Do you know any words but no?” You mutter under your breath.

You didn’t miss his annoyed humph. “Oh, just fucking tell me.”

“No.” It was your turn to snap. Your exhaustion was becoming lined with bitter childishness, and you didn’t care enough to try and suppress your urge to sneer at him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an idiotic, self-absorbed, sadist asshat who wouldn’t know empathy if it started sucking his dick.” You mocked.

He grinned. “Ok, now name my bad qualities.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll start guessing,” he took another step forward, now almost directly before you. “Did that red-headed lesbian steal your puppy?

You frowned up at him. “Maeve was bisexual.”

“Did Noir take credit for a college project?” He ignored your comment, leaning down with a mocking smirk.

“Trust me, I got all my dues in college.”

“Did that gay-for-Jesus blond steal your boyfriend? Did the fast asshole that stole Cocksucker’s girl break up with you? Did water-boy eat your goldfish?”

“I’ve never met Ezekiel, A-Train actually murdered Hughie’s girlfriend, and The Deep famously doesn’t eat seafood, he fucks it. But by all means, keep going.”

Soldier Boy blinked. “He fucks it?”

“Yep. It’s gross.” You shrug. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

You give a toothless smile. “Not until you get all your guesses out.”

“Oh?” There was unquestionable surprise in his voice at your relent, only making your fake cheer grow and your immature anger fully overtake you.

“I want you to feel like a real fucking asshole when I tell you.”

His face split open with a grin. “Well then, did the Twins kick you out of Herogasm? Did that bitch, Crimson Countess, overshadow your big debut? Did a Z-lister get more attention than you from the Vought pussies?”

You just raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms as Soldier Boy continued until the list of supes ran dry. As the last jeer left his mouth, he mirrored your face of cold amusement.

“Well?”

You leaned back, watching him closely as you spoke. “Homelander kidnapped me, kept me in a dungeon, raped me in an attempt to make more mini-Homelanders, and, after you returned, started experimenting on me to try and recreate the V used on you.”

A small shock rushed through you after you spoke. You hadn’t said any of that out loud, not fully, since you’d escaped. You danced around it with Butcher and his team, with Mallory and the CIA leaders, always picking and choosing parts to omit so nobody would look at you with pity and fear. It hadn’t worked, they did anyway, but there had still been control over it. Up until this moment, nobody had known why Homelander had done all those things to you. Everyone had seemed happy to chalk it up to him being a fucking psychopath, not anything deeper. Certainly not attempting to create a small army of additional Ryan Butchers. Small things were still yours, flashes of hunger and warped sounds remaining in your head, but everything else you had just told him.

Why did you do that? A voice hissed as the high from your petulance faded. Why did you let him win? Why did you give him a weapon to use that could hurt you?

But looking at him, he didn’t appear to be a portait of self-satisfaction and heartless triumph. He was staring at you, scanning you as though the scars Homelander left would be visible on your bare legs and arms. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t weak or coddling, but angry.

“He kept you locked up?”

You nod, part of you getting ready to fight him over something.

“He hurt you? To try and recreate me?” Your repeated nodding only seemed to inflate whatever was happening. “Did it hurt?”

Your arms and face started at that, an uncertain feeling spreading through you. There had been no reverent tone as Soldier Boy had asked the last question, no sadistic for affirmation. But you didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Why he even wanted to know. But an involuntarily honest answer escaped you. “Yes.”

He stared at you for another second before he opened his mouth, only to close it without making any sound. Abruptly, he whipped around and began to leave, giving you only one more indecipherable look as he closed the door behind him, leaving you on the edge of your bed, alone in your room.

You lay down slowly, half expecting him to storm back in at any moment, but minutes passed, quickly turning into a half hour, and your body sat at the edge of collapse once more. Soon it was unbearable, and you lay down, your racing mind being forced to a halt as sleep pulled you under.

Your sleep, as had been the case for a while now, was haunted by nightmares of blue eyes and yellow, fluorescent lights. You woke up in a cold sweat, and took a long, needlessly warm shower before forcing yourself to leave your room around 9:30. Despite your lingering fatigue, no part of you wasn’t restless as you walked down the stairs. Your body tense and ready to run, your head spinning with hypotheticals and lining up words you may need—that feeling under your skin creeping up your spine and fluttering in your gut. But Soldier Boy wasn’t in the living room or the hall. You poked your head in the dining room, hoping to avoid the minefield of the kitchen, but it was empty, the plastic chandelier lights off, the table occupied only by a vase of wilted flowers. You moved to the kitchen, ringing growing in your ears, but he wasn’t there. You turned to walk away, continue your search, but double-back as it hit you.

Nothing was in the kitchen. It was empty. Of Soldier Boy, and of the groceries MM said would be delivered.

You wandered in slowly, watching the counters as if they might start to glitch and flicker, revealing hidden produce and dirty dishes. But, leaning over the sink, there was a single plate, soaking in water that was dotted with crumbs. Slowly, you moved to the refrigerator, slowly opening it as you glanced around the room. Your eyes widened at the sight inside. Milk, drinks, and produce had been placed inside, disorganized and haphazardly. There was a jar of mayonnaise in the fresh drawer, along with a box of pasta on a side shelf, but the fridge was full. You moved quickly to the pantry, which had been sorted in a similar fashion, but filled. And when you opened the last cabinet, you saw a piece of paper stuck under a jar of peanut butter.

I know I did a shit job. Clean up if it bothers you, but don't bitch to me about it. And tell Mallory to get smooth peanut butter next time, or I’m not doing anything for her but killing Homelander - Ben

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

ok so. forgive me for a second but i've been abnormal about skizz and ren since the hiatus between third life and last life and holy shit this season is already not helping.

let's talk about skizz, ren, undying loyalty, and golden apples, shall we?

so the thing that you need to understand about skizz is that he is loyal to a fault. impulse literally says this exact thing about him in limited life, and skizz himself says himself: "you know me and my factions, i never turn." the second thing is that the first person their loyalty manifests for in third life is ren. he and ren run into each other on the second night when ren is getting accosted by mobs outside skizz's door and skizz gives him a place to stay the night. ren decides to trade skizz for his leather, for the upcoming enchanting buisness, and gives skizz a golden apple in exchange. skizz thinks this is wildly more than he deserves but is very thankful. skizz doesn't say it here, but this is the moment he swears his loyalty to ren.

throughout third life, he is willing to do or get basically anything for ren. the two of them literally die together to the tnt trap. when ren dies on the alter and everyone thinks martyn betrayed him, skizz is the first person to get there in the morning. he's in half broken gold armor and borrowed tools from bigb and he still tells ren "get behind me", still tries to protect him from martyn. when skizz is on red, he goes a bit crazy, but he channels that bloodlust into protecting ren. he kills jimmy in the red desert, he kills cleo when she tries to attack ren, he chases down impulse when he betrays dogwarts and dies trying to kill him.

when skizz dies in third life, he's got an unused golden apple in his hotbar. after he dies, he remembers the first time he met ren, etho, and martyn, and he spends quite a bit of time on his memory of ren and ren appears in his first memory of etho. after he dies, ren wields a blade named in his honor.

skizz spends third life loyal to ren- he dies for him and he dies with him.

in last life, ren and skizz end up on completely different sides, and it very quickly gets bad because when ren becomes boogey, he kills skizz. he lures him into a trap. he tells skizz he loves him. skizz literally says "i am broken hearted" when ren kills him. ren holds no regard for the relationship they used to have and yet skizz cannot help but compliment ren's skill with the trap, outright says he can't be mad at ren.

and then it only gets worse because skizz tries to storm ren's tower with impulse after they've gone red. and that! doesn't go well! and while skizz is retreating, while he is eating the golden apple in his hot bar, ren shoots him dead.

and that is the last time they've spoken. two years ago.

because skizz isn't in doublt life. and ren isn't in limited life.

and when skizz's time comes in limited life, he ensures he doesn't have a golden apple in his inventory this time. this time, he hands the apples off to his teammates, where he knows they will go to good use. and then he hands etho a diamond fucking axe (red winter is coming) and asks him to execute him for the sake of their alliance. ok! sure! fill ren's role more explicitly, why don't you!

and that first session of secret life genuinely only made it worse. when skizz is talking to tango and cleo about their alliance, skizz says he wants to give leadership over to someone else: "i want to be more of a soldier than a leader this time." cleo says she'll fill the roll of leader- she doesn't take orders well - and then seals their alliance by giving tango and skizz a golden apple each. because of course she does.

and well, we all know that didn't really work out, so that's one person off the list that skizz can fill the dogwarts shaped hole in him with, so then he goes to bdubs. he says he'll lay his sword at bdubs' feet. he says he'll win bdubs with his loyalty. he calls bdubs "my leige", jesus christ dude, you couldn't be less subtle unless you straight up called him ren's name.

skizz has been (whether accidentally or on purpose is up to you) trying to recreate the experience he had with dogwarts, and particularly what he had with ren, since the moment dogwarts fell. he can't have it with ren because he missed his only chance in last life, so he'll fill the void with whoever he can. his fellow soldier. ren's successor. ren's new kingmaker. anyone. and it's never gonna work. i need ren to come back for like, 900 reasons, but i especially need him to come back so skizz can have a shot at making it to spring.

[jo-harrington]

Standard Operating Procedures 1.06 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie’s your boyfriend. Now what?

Previous Part: Disaster Preparedness

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. First Dates and silliness, Sickeningly sweet fluff, miscommunication (not in a bad way), sexual tension, smut, allusion to oral sex, PinV Sex

Note: Here we go guys, the penultimate installment of SMVerse. We only have the finale to go. It's been a wild ride, I'm both ready to move on and give my other stories their attention, and also a little bit loathe to let my babies go. They can always make their little appearances in one-shots in the future if I need them back.

Thank you to @deathbecomesthem and @courtingchaos for looking over a few little things. Your insight is always appreciated.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

"Do I show up with flowers?"

"Flowers?"

"What's that voice, you don't like flowers?"

"Not really."

How you got to become friends with Steve Harrington, you couldn't tell for sure. One day, he was just a frantic customer running around in a Scoops Ahoy sailor uniform worrying about cherry chapstick, and then suddenly he was sitting in your store once a week looking for relationship advice.

Like today, as he tried to figure out plans to win back his ex.

Or something like that.

It was hard to tell with Steve. Oftentimes you got a half-finished story, as though you were some omniscient being that was supposed to know the other parts already. Sometimes he'd be an apt listener with the patience of a saint as you gave him whatever advice you could, and sometimes, he would go off on a one-sided tangent, and thank you for something that you didn't even know had come out of your mouth.

He reminded you of Jimmy a lot, which was why you were as patient with him as you were.

It was fine; it was a Thursday in January and the holidays were over, that meant the mall was dead. You'd hadn't had a single customer yet and a mountain of shipment to process. He could stay as long as he wanted, as long as he kept bringing cookies as payment.

"Everyone likes flowers," Steve argued skeptically after a moment of contemplation. "You're telling me Munson hasn't gotten you roses or something?"

Speak of the devil...

The shop bell rang, a chain rattled, and leather squeaked, and before you could answer, your boyfriend--you were still giddy referring to him like that in your head--himself chimed in.

"If I was a jealous man," he started with an exaggerated glare at Steve. "I would say you're here flirting with my girlfriend."

You rolled your eyes at his antics and crossed your arms over your chest, both Steve and your menial tasks forgotten momentarily, but you giggled nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Don't you have school?"

"I came to ask you a very important question," Eddie smiled conspiratorially. "But imagine my surprise when someone else is sitting in my spot."

"It's not your spot. And I'm giving him advice."

"Again?"

"He's hopeless, apparently."

"I'm right here," Steve exclaimed and got to his feet, ready to leave. "I didn't come here to be made fun of. I actually need help."

You were about to deliver a snarky remark to your friend when Eddie held a hand out towards you and led Steve out of the store.

The shop bell rang again and you sighed, lamenting your conversion for the millionth time.

You'd just bully Eddie into buying something small.

After a short time, Eddie returned to the store and approached you with a smug smile on his face.

"What?" you asked.

"Oh, nothing," he replied nonchalantly. "Just playing Cupid, that's all."

"Look at you, hopeless romantic." You opened another box and gleefully picked up a little purple jewelry carding that proudly displayed fuzzy red heart studs. You held them up to Eddie's face and squinted one eye.

"What are you doing?"

"Valentine's Day is coming up," you explained. "Trying to see if my resident Cupid here would look cute in heart earrings."

He slapped your hand away and chuckled.

"You know I would," he teased and then fluttered his lashes at you coquettishly.

"Does that mean you're finally gonna let me pierce your ears?"

"Mmmm, does Claire's have a lobotomy option I could consider first? Maybe next time, sweetheart."

"I knew you hated needles," you shot him a teasing glare. "Alright, why did you skip school today? Spill. What is this very important question you wanted to ask me?"

Eddie shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rocked on the toes of his boots, then began pacing around nervously. Which made you nervous in turn.

"You know, you just mentioned Valentine's Day," he began. "And...actually yeah, they're starting to talk about a Valentine's dance at school. It's corny, they always do it. Paper hearts and cherry punch and sugar cookies and bad love songs.

“And the guys were asking if I was gonna ask you. Well, Henderson more than anyone. I think he has a crush on you if I'm being honest, even though he insists that he has a girlfriend in Salt Lake City, do you believe that? Little liar. Isn’t the whole bit that the fake girlfriend lives in Canad—”

"Eddie," you snapped him out of his tangent with a laugh, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. "Are you asking me to the dance right now?"

Ok, a high school dance...wasn't exactly your idea of a good time but...the idea was a bit of a novelty. They didn't have dances like that at your very Catholic, very-all-girls high school. Even prom with the neighboring boys school was...modest dresses and suits and a nice dinner at a banquet hall. No real fun, no real dancing.

Last time you really even danced with someone was at a party Jen dragged you to and then you ended up in a heated makeout session that maybe went a little too far. And wasn't remarkable.

To go to a school dance with Eddie...that would be so sweet and fun. A do over for some non-existent or downright mediocre experiences.

"No, I'm not actually."

Never mind then.

"But it reminded me," he abruptly turned to face you. "That we haven't gone out on an actual date yet."

"Wh...Eddie what do you mean?" you scoffed. "Did you hit your head? We went out on Christmas Eve. Dinner at Benny's."

Eddie had picked you up for work with a thermos of hot coffee that day, you both worked until the mall closed, and then went straight to the diner. The jukebox played Christmas carols only and Ben had two special holiday prix fixe meals: a classic Pot Roast dinner and then one with a little more Benny’s flair—Christmas Dinner style omelettes, candied yam hash browns, and hot cocoa with peppermint whipped cream. You and Eddie ordered one of each and shared.

But you were both so tired that you didn't even talk; you just sat on the same side of the booth snuggled against each other, dozing off and picking at your food until Benny came to wake you both up when he was ready to close.

When Eddie dropped you back off at home, it started snowing right when you kissed goodbye. It was the perfect date.

"I've decided that it isn't our first date," he announced.

"And why is that?"

"Because we didn't even say anything but 'fuck that guy wanting to make a return on Christmas' and 'pass the salt.'"

"You also realize that we've been going out every Sunday since last..." you paused briefly to think back. "May? First week of June?"

"Those don't count either," he shook his head resolutely. "In fact those were specifically not dates."

Funny, that’s how you always thought of them too.

You were about to give in and agree, about to tell him "whatever you say Eddie." He did make a good point and it wasn't like he was calling your relationship off, he just wanted another chance at a first date. What was the harm in that?

But he beat you to the punch, suddenly nervous under your scrutiny.

"Listen, I know it's silly," he crossed his arms over his torso and shrugged. "I just...want to get it right. Make you dinner, see a movie, I know you just told Harrington you don't like flowers but...a bouquet of cookies or something?" He reached over and flicked the bag of cookies on the ear piercing station. "Make you a mixtape, I dunno."

"You made me a mixtape already, Ed."

"Yeah but I want to give you the kind of mixtape a guy makes for his girl."

You melted at his words and fought the smile that threatened to bloom on your lips and butterflies that suddenly fluttered in your stomach.

"And what's on that one that's not on the other one?" you teased, intentionally obtuse.

"You know...ballads and...sappy love songs and..." He froze and you watched as he flushed prettily. "You're making fun of me."

"It's really fun to do," you told him matter-of-factly.

Eddie ran a hand over his mouth and then looked around. He leaned back to glance out into the mall, and then faster than you could react, he ran right up to you, cupped your face in his hands and smooshed his lips to yours in a kiss. You dropped the jewelry you were holding and covered his hands with yours; you took two little steps to get as close to him as you could, and sighed as he broke away to continue pecking at your lips between his words.

"You're a menace." Peck. "You're a trickster." Peck. "And I'm picking you up for a real date." Peck. "Our official first date." Peck. "On Sunday."

You were joined together once again and he paid special attention to your lower lip, sucking on it in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Hmmm," you pulled away, trying to ignore the heat that was overtaking your body. You were still at work, after all. "Sunday huh? I thought Sundays didn't count."

"Well they count starting now." He stole another peck and then backed out of the store. "You have a great day, sweetheart. See you later."

---

Everyone teased you for your entire shift on Sunday.

Mindy was the first, having already unlocked the gate and counted up the registers for store open.

"Oh lookie here," she whistled. "Miss Lovebird is all dressed up for her date with the wannabe-rockstar."

You did a little spin and a pose for her; not dressed in your Seventeen Magazine best, but something a little more comfortable--still a dress, just a little more you--so you wouldn't have to frantically change for your date.

Chrissy offered to do your makeup on break and then confessed that she had a first date fast approaching too.

"No more Jason?" you asked, trying not to sound too hopeful as she swiped eyeshadow on.

"No, he was kind of..." she sighed. "He wasn't what I thought he'd be like as a boyfriend. I don't think I would've had the courage to end things and go after someone I really liked if I didn't work here though. I've...gained a lot of confidence since being here."

"I'm glad," you beamed at her.

Stacey even apologized for all the jokes she'd made about Eddie before she left at the end of her shift.

"I know I give him a lot of shit, but Munson's actually alright," she sniffed uncomfortably, as though complimenting him was something she was allergic to. "That thing he did at Christmas...the Santa thing? That was really sweet."

"Yeah it was."

Finally, 6pm rolled around and the gates closed. The rest of your team went home and you were left counting down the registers in anticipation as Mindy gave you a talk very reminiscent of the Birds and the Bees that your parents gave you once upon a time.

Before you knew it, Eddie was standing outside with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, and you flashed him a quick "five" to let him know you wouldn't be long.

"Ok listen," Mindy got real close to you know, hand on your shoulder, lips close to your ear as she whispered. "If you guys wanna do the ol' Horizontal Tango tonight--"

"What are you 75?"

"--at the very least do it in a bed and not the back of his van, ok?"

"I swear to god," you mumbled under your breath.

"Invite him back to your place. Light a candle. Ambience. Make sure you have condoms."

"Melinda!"

She started cackling.

"I mean, I guess you don't have to have--

"Utter one more word and you're fired," you pointed at her threateningly.

Mindy immediately held her hands up innocently and then dragged her fingers across her lips like a zipper.

As you finished counting down the registers though, you wondered if you'd only shut her up because she was crossing a line...or if it was because she was actually really good at reading the secret expectations that you may or may not have had for this date.

It was just a first date, nothing was gonna happen. You could think about all of that next time. But…what if…

The store suddenly became unbearably warm.

Before long, the two of you ducked under the gate and Mindy simply waved goodbye while holding back her laughter as Eddie approached you.

"What was that?" he asked, thumbing over his shoulder at her. "Everything ok?"

"She thought she was being funny, but instead she's just an asshole," you explained, trying to laugh off the awkward conversation and illicit thoughts that still lingered in your mind.

"Ah," he nodded slowly, his eyes squinted for a moment and you swore you saw the gears turn in his head. "Yeah...Kyle did the same thing for me too. You remember when I found out the kids had a bet against us? Apparently the whole team had a secret bet going too.”

"And Kyle won?" you questioned eagerly, glad for a change of topic.

"No, Paulie. But P gave me a cut, thanked me for being such a stick in the mud and holding out as long as I did."

"How much?"

"Fifty bucks," he pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. "Gave it to me today and told me to take you someplace nice. Which was the plan anyway, if you were wondering."

The two of you stood there awkwardly for a second before Eddie cleared his throat.

"You look nice sweetheart," he said with a nervous smile.

"Thanks, so do you."

And he did.

He had his leather jacket over a fitted forest green henley, with ripped black jeans and boots. You'd never considered green to be such a favorable color on him, his usual outfits consisting of blacks and reds and the occasional blue, but it was dashing. Brought out the glowing warmth of his eyes, the tiny honeyed flecks that often got lost in chocolate depths.

"I, uh, have something for you," he announced, fishing something out of his pocket. "I didn't have time to do a new mixtape, so you'll have to take an IOU for it. This...might be a little cheesy... but...well, close your eyes."

You followed his instruction and felt him grab your hands and lift them up. He positioned them just so, and then left you standing there as he prepped whatever your gift was.

"It's not my usual thing," he muttered as he fumbled with what-sounded-like a rustle of paper. "But the guys helped me clean out the van--"

"You cleaned the van?" you scoffed. "For me? Eddie I've been in your van before."

"Hey listen," he suddenly sounded offended. "First date and such, you deserve the best."

"I like the clutter in your van," you told him truthfully.

"Listen, if I hadn't cleaned it out I would've never been able to gift you with this, the Mirror of Galadriel. Well it's more like a hand mirror. Hey no peeking!"

He continued telling you about the way Lucas and Will, crafty as they were, helped him make this little surprise during the break of their Friday night session of Hellfire.

"Apparently Sinclair's little sister and her friends make these for each other, and he's helped them. Which, ask me to paint minis for DnD any day; this shit was hard. There. Open your eyes now."

He slipped something over the tips of your fingers and when you opened them you found...

"A cootie catcher?" You asked with a laugh. "Eddie..."

You were about to ask what the deal was when you noticed it wasn't just a folded piece of paper littered with numbers and words, but taped and glued together with bits of familiar papers.

You brought it closer to your face for further inspection, flexing your fingers this way and that to see the bits folded inside.

Was that the logo from Pizzeria Uno? And...a movie ticket?

"Eddie...what...?"

"Ok, it's not just garbage," he assured you. "I know I don't really clean out my van that often. Shit, there was homework in there that I was supposed to turn in last year. No wonder I had to repeat again. But I guess I never realized that after our not-dates, I sort of left a few things in the glovebox or emptied my pockets in the back to throw out later.

"This...this is from our first outing for pizza. And when we went to see Day of the Dead. I cut up the order form when you paid the last installment on Sweetheart. And this? The menu from that one takeout place we ordered from? That night when...you know...before we went to Chicago? A-and a Chef Boyardee label. Y'know from that one time we ate dinner at your place? Well, actually, I don't think it's from that night.

"I-I know, I'm a walking contradiction," he concluded with a laugh. "I said that this was gonna be our first official date and here I am with a reminder of all the times we weren't dating but...I guess I figured...our times together as friends are just as important as any date. So now that...you're actually my girlfriend, I needed you to know you'll still always be my best friend too."

You felt your eyes water and your heart pound in your chest.

"Do you like it?" he asked nervously.

"It's only," you let out a watery laugh. "Only the best gift I've ever gotten."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Not even the Boston cassette I got you?"

"Not even that," you shook your head. "Seriously Eddie...it's perfect."

All you wanted in that moment right there was to kiss him.

And you would have, but the lights in the mall concourse dimmed, signaling customer hours were over and that everyone needed to leave.

"You ready?" he backed away from you and held his hand out, fingers wiggling and eager to twine with yours. You gladly took it, expecting to hold his hand as you walked out towards the employee lot, but he surprised you by twirling you in a circle. He spun you into him, tucked against his side, and draped his arm across your shoulder.

You were sure it was gonna be a perfect night. Again.

Because he was perfect.

---

Turns out the Cootie Catcher wasn't just a gift with little mementos of your friendship, it was the means of which the two of you would decide the fate of your date night.

"I'll pick first," he explained. "And then you pick next ok? You just gotta trust me on this."

Throughout the night you both picked numbers and pinched the corners of the cootie catcher back and forth, back and forth, until you came up with the next activity you would embark on.

"Dinner at...the Hideaway," you read the first outcome that had come up. "The Hideaway? I thought it was the Hideout."

"No, they're two different places," Eddie explained. "Damn, you've almost lived in Hawkins for a year now and you still don't know? I'm a really bad Welcome Committee."

Turns out the Hideaway was a sports bar on the outskirts of town. The bar itself was a little crowded with patrons drinking beers and watching football on the twin tv's that were mounted overhead, but there was a tiny little dining room off to the side that was practically empty.

As you scanned the menu, your eyes immediately caught a glimpse of The Wayne under the sandwich header.

"Wayne as in...Uncle Wayne?" you asked with a laugh, and Eddie couldn't have looked any prouder if he tried.

"Yup," he puffed out his chest. "Nothing amazing ever happens in Hawkins, but if you can guess the Super Bowl winner accurately at the beginning of the season for 5 years in a row, you get a sandwich named after you at a bar."

"Shut up," you laughed. "He did not."

"Swear on my mother's grave," Eddie leaned forward and challenged you.

You both ended up ordering the Wayne, and Eddie spent most of dinner telling you Wayne's Scientific Method to choosing the winners, and then the way the winning streak broke.

"He put twenty dollars in a pool at the plant," he explained. "Figured he'd been guessing right at the Hideaway for so long without getting anything more than a free dinner out of it, he might as well try to win a little cash. Turns out fate only meant for him to win a hearty chicken dinner and nothing more, so he didn't try to tempt the Gods again lest he incur their wrath."

The sandwich was delicious, the company even better. And you held hands across the table pretty much the entire time.

---

Back and forth, back and forth the cootie catcher went, and you groaned when you saw the outcome.

Bowling.

"I'm not good at it Eddie," you tried to persuade him to choose again. "I'm gonna embarrass myself."

"Too bad, I'm not good at it either. We'll both look like idiots together."

"I'm wearing a dress Eddie."

"This is our destiny!" He exclaimed with a tone of finality, hand on the gearshift to put the van into drive. "And before you try to fight me on it, I'll even let my chivalry take a hit and let you pay for the first round of beer."

Knowing that a win was a win, you agreed.

Reluctantly.

The Roane County Bowlarama was something out of a time capsule, though, and that in and of itself was a novelty. Casino carpet and funky modular chairs and a neon light that sat over the pristinely waxed hardwood lanes in a very kitschy style that proudly advertised the Bowlarama's foundation in 1960.

It certainly smelled like nostalgia in here.

Eddie went to get your shoes while you meandered to the little concessions counter to get two solo cups of cheap beer and a soft pretzel with plastic cheese for the two of you to share.

As you got your score cards written up, you confided in Eddie that the only time you'd ever been bowling was for a birthday party for a classmate when you were in the 7th grade.

He just laughed and told you it had been the same for him too.

He pointed down to one of the lanes where a family was happily bowling with their two small children.

"If you go over there, I'm sure you'll still see the dent in the floor where I dropped the ball," he whispered. "It was too heavy and I went to go bowl and it dropped out of my hand and almost cracked the hardwood. And I vowed never again."

"Then why did you put it on the Cootie Catcher?" you asked incredulously.

"Well, we've gotta look stupid in front of each other sometime, right?" he reasoned.

“As though we haven’t done that already.” You shook your head. "Eddie Munson, you are something else."

"I know." He bowed proudly and then went to take his turn.

At the end of ten frames, you turned in your scorecards and your shoes at the counter, all the while snickering as the attendant read out your abysmal scores.

You'd beaten Eddie, sure...but it wasn't hard to beat a zero.

Was he really that bad at bowling or had he let you win? You’d never know.

---

It had been a great night but it was getting late by the time you got back out to the van.

Normally, you wouldn't mind a longer Sunday night out with Eddie, even if you had work and he had school in the morning. Honestly, you couldn't quite give a shit if you were tired for a Monday morning call with your boss or to unpack shipment boxes.

Still, you stopped Eddie before he could fish the Cootie Catcher out of the cupholder on the console.

"What's wrong?" he frowned. "You getting tired? Too tired for a late night snack? I put Dairy Queen for ice cream and Bradley's for a mystery snack adventure as options."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, trying to entice you into letting fate take you once again.

The thing was...ending the night wasn't really the thought on your mind. It had been a great night out, reminiscent of those few early Sunday nights, cruising around Hawkins and finding someplace new you hadn't been yet.

But part of the fun of some other not dates with Eddie were the times you got to spend alone. Even recently, as you started cuddling and making out on the couch or stealing kisses in the food court at the little table hidden closer to the JCPenney entrance while sharing cheese fries, it was the intimacy and closeness you cherished. Those times spent together were spent in a world just for the two of you.

And as the night went on and you came to that realization, Mindy's words echoed through your head: Horizontal Tango.

God, ok, that was not the way you wanted to think of it, but it did get your mind on that night. The last time things had started getting heated between the two of you, the night you thought everything had been ruined before you both realized that there were some actual feelings deeper than friendship there.

That had been...nice.

Sure you'd been high, but laughing and groping and kissing and grinding...

Yeah it was more fun to do all of that with someone than to take care of things on your own with your imagination or one of the bodice rippers you secretly bought at Waldenbooks at your disposal.

One of the bodice-rippers with a love interest that your brain had started to fill in with a certain metalhead that was your then-crush and now-boyfriend.

Suddenly the more you thought about it--actively thought about it--sitting here in the van with Eddie, surrounded by the scent of his cigarettes and his Old Spice cologne, having just had probably the best date you could ask for...you realized that you wanted more too. With him.

More than a quick fuck at a party or a romp on a couch.

You wanted Eddie.

First date be damned.

"Sweetheart?" Eddie pulled you from your thoughts. "We can call it if you want. If you're too tired to drive, I can take you home now and...I'll pick you up for work tomorrow before I go to class."

"Uh." You worried your bottom lip, at a loss for words, as your hand still gripped the top of his over the center console. He was being so kind, so chivalrous, so thoughtful with this whole date, all of these sweet plans...you didn’t want to undercut the effort he’d put in.

How did one just ask their boyfriend to have sex with them?

"Do you wanna have sex?"

The words escaped your mouth as though you were on autopilot, and both you and Eddie stared at each other dumbfounded as the question hung heavily between you.

Well that was one way to do it.

"Wha...whe...like? Here? Now?" He stared at you wide-eyed as he questioned. There was a beat and then he shook his head and stared down at your hands in silence.

What you wouldn't have given at that very moment to hear the thoughts that were clearly racing through his head, as he visibly tried to compute the situation you were both in.

You felt your chest get tighter and your heart raced.

See? First date, no fooling around. You should have trusted your instincts.

"I mean...yes,” Eddie finally blurted out. “But it wasn’t on the cootie catcher.”

It was silent for another moment, then you both broke down in hysterical laughter.

Unintelligible words were shared as you both relived the last few tense moments with intense clarity—basking in the silliness that could only be shared between the two of you—and then you both seemed to have a lightbulb moment. Eddie turned in his seat to grab something from the back of the van while you dug for something in your bag.

It was a race to see who could get there first, and Eddie won as he fell back into the driver's seat with a sharpie held in the air like his ultimate prized possession. You abandoned your own search and began carefully unfolding the cootie catcher and before long, on the inner most flaps, new adventures for the night were written.

Blizzards at DQ was soon scribbled out in favor of Your Place.

And Mystery Snacks from Bradley’s replaced by My Place.

Eddie started situating the fortune teller over the tips of his fingers when you grabbed his wrist.

“What if we don’t end up getting either place?” You asked a little stupidly.

“Well then I guess we’re gonna head to the civic center and play Boggle with Gareth’s mom and dad, Sweetheart,” he snarked. “Pick a number.”

Back and forth the cootie catcher went as you called out numbers.

Until Your Place sat proudly on display between you.

“Alright then,” Eddie placed the cootie catcher back into the cup holder and then clapped his hands. “Your place it is.”

---

For as bold as you both had been in the van, it was unexpectedly awkward when you got into your apartment.

It was a moment of being in a place you'd both been a hundred times together before, but the implication of why you were there made it difficult to simply begin.

You both ended up on the couch for a while, watching some late night reruns and sharing a pint of Rum Raisin until you were calm and comfortable enough to share tentative kisses and touches in front of the glow of the tv.

"This isn't..." Eddie chuckled when you found yourself horizontal on the couch and he kissed his way down your neck and across your décolletage. "This isn't like a porno."

You both broke down in laughter again and he admitted that that thought had been on his mind all night, along with the possibility that this would be waiting for the two of you at the end of the date.

"I had that thought," he continued once the laughter had subsided. "Last time we were like this. That's...do you remember I...god did I honk your boob?"

"You did," you remembered fondly, even though the outcome of that encounter was anything but a fond memory.

"I think that's why I did it," he ran a finger along the neckline of your dress, which caused goosebumps to erupt along your arms as you shivered with anticipation. "I don't need to be anything with you except myself. I don't have to be the...hot boyfriend or the hunky pizza guy or anything. I'm just me, and you're just you."

"You can't make me cry before we fuck," you told him matter-of-factly, and dragged him back up so you could kiss him again.

"Actually," he broke away again and his brows shot up into his bangs. "That's another kind of porno. We can add that to the list for next time ok?"

That set the pace and the expectation for the rest of the night: intimate moments punctuated by words and laughter.

There was no rush, so you took your time to explore one another's bodies. You moved from the couch to the bed and clothes came off one piece at a time, including socks which both of you agreed was the least seductive piece of clothing to remove.

"But I did read about this thing with tights once," you bit your lip in too-little-too-late realization, after you'd chucked your pantyhose into the corner of your bedroom. "It was kind of hot."

"I'm making notes," Eddie tapped his temple twice. "Don't worry. Next time."

And if you ever had the impression that Eddie was a bad student, all of that doubt vanished because he was incredibly studious when it came to your body. Both of you were as you licked and kissed and groped. You took the time to find spots that were sensitive or ticklish, that generated moans or giggles.

Boy, did you find out how much he liked to giggle.

You traced along the hazy ink of his tattoos with the tip of your tongue, in awe of the imagination that he'd put into each piece of artwork permanently etched on his body as he stammered out a brief story of each one. He told you about something he wanted along his ribcage, and when you went to kiss along the proposed path, he burst into a fit of laughter that almost rocketed him off the bed.

Soon there were more panting breaths than breathy laughter. As Eddie took his time worshipping you, committing every dip and curve and crease of you to memory--just like all the other things that he seemed to take note of--and the way you hiccuped and moaned as he lavished you with attention.

You both became teachers, showing one another just how you found pleasure alone--Eddie quick to admit that his solitary ministrations might have been done to the thought of you--before tonight. You were both happy to oblige each other's desires with your hands and mouths.

You quickly realized how much you liked the way that he stuttered your name as you suckled the head of his cock, and he seemed to take that as a challenge when he kissed and sucked your clit in return, the first partner you'd ever had to think to do so and not just fumble with zero thought or coordination.

"I'm a sex god," he boasted, chin resting smugly on your mound after you'd finished riding the crest of your first orgasm. "What can I say?"

"You're so full of it," you scoffed. "But you can say whatever you want if you just promise me you'll do that again."

"Oooh, gonna especially take note of that one," he said mischievously as he walked his fingers up the length of your body and then took your hand in his, both of you ready for the pièce de résistance of the night.

It was a lazy kind of fucking, even though the two of you were as wound up as you were; however, considering that you'd both had an entire day of work and then a lengthy date and foreplay, neither of you could complain.

You could have headboard-banging, heart rate-climbing, frenzied, nasty sex anytime you wanted for however long you'd be together.

"Hopefully forever," Eddie whispered against your mouth after you'd reassured him of just that, as he sank into you and realized that he was more comfortable in the cradle of your arms and thighs than stiffly knelt above you. "You promise?"

"Hopeless romantic," you muttered in return. You moaned as he slowly bucked into you and created a delicious drag of his fingers on your clit again. "But yeah, I promise."

There were very few words after that, just sounds. Pants and sighs and sucking kisses; a few swears as you both found the peaks of your pleasure, and finally an "is there any more of that ice cream" once Eddie collapsed beside you when it was all over.

You both couldn't help but brag how great it had all been come morning, when he drove you back to the mall for work.

Or when you showed up at his place the following night to do it all over again.

Next Chapter: Longevity

[tomsvouge]

Call it what you want

Summary- You and Joe attend his Heisman ceremony. What you don’t know is that Joe has something up his sleeve for after the ceremony. Warnings: Fluff, References of sex

Being friends with Joe was a reward in itself, but seeing him achieve a goal of a lifetime is worth more than any award there is.

Getting ready in the hotel room in New York City was not on your bucket list for 2019 but hey I was not complaining. Joe was up for the heisman trophy and you could not be more proud of him. Knowing what he has endured up to this moment would make anyone have nothing but respect for him.

Joe and I have been friends since middle school. All I remember is a shy kid hesitant to find a seat somewhere. Calling him over to sit next to me was the best decision I have ever made. Although what I didn't know was I was going to be falling for him as the years went on. each day that went by I always noticed something new about him, like the way he gets all giggly when talking about things he loves, or when he gets tuned vision when he is really really focused on something.

Having these feelings for Joe meant that every little thing made me jealous. Like when girls fond over him or when girls literally come up to him and flirt with him. Before my thoughts took over me I got pulled out by Joe calling my name.

"Y/n!"-Joe

"yea what's up"- you say sitting down the makeup brush.

"Which tie should I pick?"- Joe says holding up two purple ties that look almost identical

"Go with the one without the gold it kinda washes you out"- You say taking the tie from him to put it on him while he laughs at your remark.

"Can't even catch a break on my day huh?"- Joe says shaking his head laughing.

"Hey just because your winning an award doesn't change the fact that your still easy to make fun of."- You say while fixing him up so he looks put together.

"There you go. Nice and proper."- you walking back to finish your makeup

"Thanks and I haven't won anything yet, I'm just a nominee."-Joe says following you and sitting down on the bed next to the vanity watching you apply the finishing touches.

"Oh c'mon, Joe we all know you have this award in the bag. You have had heck of a season and most of all you deserve it more than anyone."- you say turning to him and grabbing his hands.

"Everyone believes in you Joe not just your family. You pretty much have the whole state of Louisiana supporting you tonight as you are their adopted son apparently."-you say as Joe looks up and laughs at the adoption joke.

"Thank you y/n. You always know how to bring my confidence back up."- Joe says looking at you with a little glimmer in his eyes.

"Oh! also can you help me zip up my dress?"-you ask standing up and turning around so my back faces him.

"Yea sure."-Joe says slowly zipping the dress up.

"There. And thank you for always being there, it means a lot."-Joe says while you turn around to look at him.

When turning around you had no idea how close you actually were to Joe, so close that your chest was literal centimeters away from his.

Looking into Joe's eyes gave you a wash of euphoria. Something hat only his can do, and he felt the same way about yours. Every stolen glance he takes at you when you aren't looking and every little gesture he does to show that he cares.

As you guys stared into each others eyes, it was cut short by Robin and Jimmy clearing their throats.

"Time to go guys!"- Robin says as she looks at us smirking.

"Yea okay."- we both say at the same time while they leave the room.

"Wait! Joe before we go gets take a picture."-You say opening the camera app and taking the picture,

"okay lets go y/n, this could turn into a whole photoshoot with you."-joe says laughing and guiding me to the door.

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Walking into the ceremony felt unreal. Before it started we talked to a couple of joes coaches and other nominees.

A few minutes into small taking we were told the ceremony would be broadcasting in a ew minutes and we had to take our seats. before I went to my seat I decided to give Joe some more words of encouragement.

"Hey Joe just remember what I told you in the hotel room, you have all the support in the world right now, win or lose we're so so proud of you."-you say as he was staring u at you with admiration in his eyes.

"Thank you y/n."- He says with a tight lipped smile.

I could tell he was nervous. Joe only smiled like that when he was nervous or when he wanted out of a situation and didn't want to make it awkward.

As I'm walking back to my seat I couldn't help but over hear one of the nominees say that Joe had a good one. Before I could hear joes response people were starting to scramble to their seats for it to start.

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He did it. He won the Heisman for LSU.

As walks up to his family section he hugs each of us. When he gets to me he says something unexpected.

"I love you.."- Joe says as he hugs you and moves on to his dad.

He just told me he loves me. We have said this to each other before but something about this time felt different.

As Joe walks up to give his speech all I could do is tear up. This boy has been through so much and has been knocked down so many times and the is finally proving all those people wrong who ever doubted him in his life.

But one thing that I did not expect to see was Joe cry. I have only seen Joe cry a few times, so little that I could count on one hand. This had really meant a lot to him and you couldn't be any prouder of him.

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After the ceremony and the walk in Times Square, Joe and I decided to head back to our room to celebrate the win by watching movies and drinking some champagne.

The second the door closed I tackled Joe in a hug to the point where he fell back on the bed. Laughing he quickly turned us over on the be. As quickly as he turned us over he jumped off of me.

"Sorry I don't know what I was thinking doing that"- Joe said as he starts to take off his shoes.

"Its fine, You did nothing wrong."- you said

"Im gonna go take a shower right quick, okay?"- you said walking over to the bathroom.

"Okay I'm going to my parents room to do the same."

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Sitting in the bed with Joe you had laughs and mini tickle fights. But as the night went on you had not idea what was about to happen.

"Okay so now that this movie is over I would like to show you a very important video."-joe says grabbing his computer.

"It's not a sex tape is it?"- you say with semi seriousness.

"No no not even close!"-Joe says laughing at you.

"Oh okay."- you say getting comfortable to see what his is about to show you.

"okay, watch"- Joe says starting the video.

The video consisted of memories of me and Joe from when we first met to literally a few hours ago.

"Joe that was so sweet, but why?"-you say looking at him.

"Y/n, you have been in my life since I can remember. Not a single bad memory with you, if anything you make the bad memories seen not so bad. You have been there for me through the really highs but you have also been there for me when I've hit rock bottom. You make me a better person and I'm grateful to have you as a best friend. And I know this might sound weird but I really don't want to be friends with you anymore. I want to be more than friends. So, with that Will you be my girlfriend?"- Joe says as you have tears in your eyes.

Joe... You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to say that sentence to me."-I say hugging him like my like depended on it.

"So I'll take that as a yes?"- Joe says

"Yes Joe i'll be your girlfriend."- I say leaning in to kiss his lips.

Right as our lips are about to touch Joe pulls away leaving me confused.

"What's wrong?"- You ask looking at him.

"Nothing, but before I forget I have to give you something."- Joe says reaching into the nightstand.

"Here."- he hands me the box

"Joe you didn't have to get me anything."

"Just open the box baby"

I open the box and see a pendant necklace with a "J" on it.

"joey... Its beautiful."

"Just like you. I wanted you to have it even when we are not physically with each other. Look inside."

I look inside and see a photo of me and Joe on the day we met and and an empty side. "What's this side for?"- I say referring to the empty side.

"It's for you to fill, I want you to fill it with your favorite memory of us. I doesn't have to be right now. You don't even have to tell me. just do it when you're ready."- Joe says as I nod.

"Can you put it on me?"-You say turning round.

"Ofc."- He says putting the necklace on me.

"oh and Joe?"

"Yea?"

"I love you too."- I say smiling.

Little did Joe know you filled that empty spot years later with the photo of you him and your baby boy the day you gave birth.

The first pic of the new year!!! Also the start of the Taylor imagines. If you have any recommendations let me know. <3