#mY WIG IS GOING TO BE SNATCHED

[cyber-neptune]

My day be so fine then I remember Dream's end come true and im just left there like

"Damn..."

(/pos)

[reraen]

once again wanna give the person who knew how amazing Someoka's VA singing voice is and made sure as hell he was featured in at least a few songs a huge ass smooch

[girlevanbuckley]

they would NOT work it out on the remix

[brechtian]

I’m going to look so hot as hamlet I already know. what who said that

[sapsolais]

sometimes i wish i were a cat

[buscandoelparaiso]

//

[saintofsacrilege]

aftg headcanons that are so real to me i forget they aren’t canon:

black dan and matt

korean american renee

ethnically ambiguous kevin

katelyn looking a lot like neil (red hair, blue eyes, facial structure, etc)

andrew has an eyebrow piercing

andrew paints his nails black

lactose intolerant twinyards

twinyards both have curtain bangs

neil purposefully mispronouncing french words to annoy kevin

neil randomly speaking to nicky in spanish and nicky going: “huh? 😃” (he has no idea what neil just said)

seth’s hairline being a literal straight line

renee having massive angel wings tattooed on her back

renee giving andrew a black cross for his birthday and him wearing it every single day in an alt, edgy way (it matches her silver one perfectly. yes they have best friend necklaces i decree it)

allison helping renee dye the ends of her hair and renee helping allison touch up her roots

allison and andrew developing a frenemies kinda thing

doll and her twink dynamics abounding (renee and andrew, allison and neil, allison and nicky)

allison and nicky becoming besties

dan wearing orange the most often out of all the foxes… until neil comes along. then they compete

neil and andrew constantly wearing each other’s jersey

nicky giggling whenever he sees kevin’s tattoo (his internal dialogue: yas queen skinny legend versace boots the house down slay queen hungry mama and oop daddy work charli xcx snatch my wig)

biromantic aspec kevin

queer renee

demiromantic andrew

[bvidzsoo]

Every time I see you... (masterlist) ↰

...my throbbing heart rate spikes up

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

☆ Genre: slice of life, established situationship, post university setting, angst, fluff, smut ☆ Rating: 18+ (mature) ☆ Status: on-going

Summary: You had no issues committing to a relationship, but you've had too much misfortune while dating, so, really, you didn't even want to hear the word relationship. What you had with Mingi, however, was special...it was never said out loud, but to any onlooker, it was obvious what you were: just two people in love. Is that something you can come to terms with? Are you willing to open yourself to the man you've always loved but didn't fully acknowledge until now?

☆ Visuals ☆ 

︵⭒Chapter 1

︵⭒Chapter 2

︵⭒Chapter 3

︵⭒Chapter 4

︵⭒Chapter 5

︵⭒Chapter 6

︵⭒Chapter 7

︵⭒Chapter 8

🎧Be my little secret, keep it, hush, hush, but I think I'm in love🎧 

A/N: Man, I miss writing for my Mingi. IOMT really snatched my wig when it comes to Yunho, can one be bias wrecked by their own bias? Apparently, yes, because that's what happened. I've got this idea not so randomly, for those who know Giselle's solo song Dopamine, it was heavily influenced by it. I adore the song and can relate a lot to it, so here's me word vomiting another story for you guys! I'll start a separate taglist for this mini-series, so let me know on this post if you'd like to be tagged! I hope to see you all soon! ^^ Get ready to read about me gushing about Song Mingi for another eight chapters, yay! divider I hope to update every week, but it might get slower if we catch up with the chapters I have written so far.

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[acapelladitty]

the man who would be king

Summary: Working his usual magic at the Iceberg Lounge, Oz slips to the defence of one of his girls after an incident in the club.

Fic Masterlist ☆ AO3

Every king needed a throne to rule from.

Falcone had his office, the set-up of the place so dark and sparse that it was difficult to navigate in the evenings. Hell, even Maroni had designed a special business room which featured a steel table that had been bolted into the ground and bleached regularly to keep the stains from business deals gone wrong from rusting the metal.

But Oz was no king and he needed no throne. His power came from boots on the ground action and a constant flow of motion to ensure that his presence was felt in every corner of the space he claimed as his own. He didn't want to hide away. He wanted people to know his face. To know his name.

Besides, sitting for too long made his foot ache like a whore.

The Iceberg Lounge was his throne and he wove among the crowds like a true man of the people - carefully calculating his patrons, their influence and how many dollars they were going to drink into his pocket after he'd skimmed his cut from the profits.

His little birds were out in full force today and he surveyed the swell of scantily-clad employees as they danced around the floor of the club before heading over to sell marked-up bottles and shots to the pricks who possessed too much money and had ponied up for a seated booth. Sweeping his eyes around, he sought out his favourite little bird of the moment - her choice to wear a vivid reg wig making her an easy target to spot among the clubbers.

His eyes settled on her quickly and his lips instantly snatched back into a snarl as he watched her interact with the table she was serving. From here, he could see that something not great was up. From the clearly guarded way that she stood back from the booth, to the smug look of anger which coated the face of the dark-haired guy who was talking to her.

Sensing blood in the water, Oz picked up pace as he pulled himself over to the unhappy table - weaving his way through the throng of drunken clubgoers with a practised ease despite his troubled gait. Three men, each of them suited to the nines and holding that pompous look that only came from guys who had been born with a silver spoon rammed up their ass, sat around the booth and, as he quickly approached, Oz could hear that two of them seemed content to quietly egg on their friend as he berated his little bird.

"Come sit with us, baby. My friend here has a stiff drink and an even stiffer problem you could maybe help us with," slurring the words loudly, the dark-haired man grasped at her wrist with curled fingers even as she skillfully avoided his touch. "You look like you know what you're doing. Come sit- sit on our laps."

"I'm not a whore." His little bird countered dryly, "You want a fuck? Go out onto the streets like all the other johns. This here's a classy joint."

Only just able to hear her raised words as he approached from behind, Oz smirked at the easy defense of his club and how she stood her ground without fear.

"You think I pay for it? You think I rent whores? Who the fuck do you think i am?"

Pissed off by her words, the man's immediate cut to anger was clear and Oz only just made it to the side of the table as the final question flew from his curled lips. He was not quick enough though as the skinny prick, who was now visibly shaking his fist at his little bird, lifted his hand further and smacked her across the jaw in a vicious, ringing slap.

Without hesitation as his vision bloomed red for a moment, Oz moved with the merciless strike of a cobra as he thrust his hand into the hair of the fucking idiot and slammed his head into the table, ensuring that his face was tilted towards him as it collided with the solid wood.

The guys friends, immediately scared shitless by the sudden appearance of the infamous Penguin in his own club, all remained quiet outside of their muted yells and panicked expressions.

"You put a fucking hand on one of my girls again and I'll cut it off? You hear me, prick?" Oz growled, his grip of the man's hair so tight that he was surprised it wasn't ripping free into his fingers. "You touch any girl in this club and I'll rip your fucking fingers out and feed 'em to your mother!"

His face smushed into the table with so much pressure that his lips were visibly squished and his jaw pressed painfully to the side, the suited idiot spluttered an incomprehensible apology with wide, panicked eyes as his body flailed against the booth.

"I'm- 'm sorry, Mr Penguin. I didn't- I won't do it again."

"Get him the fuck outta here." Oz spat, slamming his other hand on the table - his thick fingers splashing some spilled drink into the eyes of the fucking idiot. He released him at the same time and the man pulled his head up and swiftly stumbled free of the booth. His friends instantly took the warning in stride, collectively standing to their feet and shuffling off towards the exit with sheepish expressions that were reeking with fear.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

Turning to his little bird, he could see that she was shaken up - both by the mild assault and also by his sudden appearance - and he didn't miss the small, almost shy smile that she sent his way as he open watched and fussed over her.

"I'm fine, Oz." She confirmed, her trembling fingers adjusting the edges of the wig that clung to her scalp, "But thanks for that. Those guys have been a pain in the ass all night."

His hand slipped up to rest on her chin, pulling her jaw gently to the side so that he could get a better look at the red mark that was developing at the side of her full mouth.

"All shift, huh? Then go and take an early finish. Your numbers are covered for the night."

"Oz, I'm fine." She protested, her hand coming up to cover his own as she glanced at him with soft eyes, "Besides I haven't made rent yet an-"

Ah.

Dipping his fingers into his inner pocket, Oz snatched free a stack of bills. Visibly marking out an appropriate amount with a practised eye, he stuffed the bills into the small black hip bag she used to hold her cash.

"Landlords." Oz scoffed. "And they say I'm the fucking criminal."

Her gentle hand dropped to follow his and she squeezed his fingers with a grateful expression, "Thank you."

He had always liked her. Even among his other favourites. She was beautiful like them all but she was smart enough to know when to stand her ground and when to play the part she needed to with the punters. Some of the little whispers she had overheard and dropped to him over time had secured him some big deals that cemented his worth in the eyes of Carmine and the family and he wasn't a man to forget his assets.

Plus, she was a hell of a lay. They didn't fuck that much, but the odd night had seen them both hiding out in his office as she spread herself across his desk and gave him something to smile about. He didn't like to mix business and pleasure, the danger of it all the more clear in how Carmine liked to treat his own special ladies after they'd discovered more than he would have liked, but Oz was better than him and he knew how to protect himself.

"Don't mention it, doll." Oz grinned, lips pulling back to show his slightly off-white teeth. "You just keep that kid of yours at school and don't be worrying about this bullshit. How is the boy?"

"Finding it tough." She sighed. "His teacher says there's something up with him, his brain ain't working like it should. Wants him to do some tests about his attention and stuff."

"He's a smart kid. Like his ma."

"Sweet man. Always looking our for us girls." She purred, her hand stroking along the fine silk of his shirt as he straightened to his full height at her obvious attentions.

"You do your bit, sweetheart. All those little bits of information you pick up and feed back to me like little songbirds? Worth your weight in gold."

"You alone tonight, Oz?" Batting her eyelashes at him with obvious intent, Oz couldn't help the flush of arousal that stirred his cock as she continued to rub circles on his stomach.

"Always alone, baby."

"Then show me to the back office and I'll show you something you'll like. Since I've got the night off and all and my sitter ain't expecting me back for another few hours."

Glancing around the pulsing atmosphere of the club as the world continued to spin around him, Oz laced his thick arm around her waist and muttered something so filthy into her ear that even in the flashing, neon lights of the club, he could still see the flush of her cheeks as he led her back to his office.

[melosliving]

kelvin harrison jr x actress!reader

we listen and we don’t judge …

The TikTok begins with Kelvin already recording, holding the phone way too close to his face. His mischievous grin is the first thing you see, and you can already tell he’s about to start some drama.

“Hey y’all, It’s your boy Kelvin, and we’re about to do the ‘We Listen and We Don’t Judge’ challenge. So, uh, we listen… and we don’t judge, right? Cool. Here’s mine : I might have tried on your wigs once or twice when you weren’t near.”

Your head whips around so fast you almost pull something. “Kelvin what the fuck” He bites his lip to keep from laughing, but his shoulders shake from trying to hold it in. “You said no judgment ! That’s the challenge!”

The camera now focusing on y’all’s feet, you snatch the phone out of his hand, scandalized. “First of all, this is not the challenge. Second, which wigs, Kelvin?!”

He raises his hands like he’s innocent. “Just the bob ones! I look good in a bob!”

You stare at him, speechless, while he’s cackling like he just won a prize. Finally, you roll your eyes and turn to the camera. “This man is deranged. I don’t even know why I agreed to this.”

Kelvin leans into the frame, still laughing. “We listen and we don’t judge, though!” You hold up a hand to stop him. “No, because you’re doing this all wrong. It’s supposed to be about quirky things you actually do, not whatever nonsense that just was.”

He smirks, leaning back into the couch. “I mean, technically, I do try on your wigs…”

“Kelvin, I’m serious,” you deadpan, narrowing your eyes at him. “Can you behave for one second?”

“Alright, alright,” he says, putting on an innocent face that you know is a complete lie. “Let’s do it your way.”

You sigh, refocusing the camera. “Okay, I’m starting this over because clearly, Kelvin can’t be trusted. Now, we’re doing the ‘We Listen and We Don’t Judge’ challenge, the correct way. Let’s go. Kelvin, start.”

Kelvin takes a deep breath, clearly trying to hide his smirk. “Alright. We listen, and we don’t judge… but the first time I saw you, I said ‘smash’ in my head.”

Your jaw drops as you stare at him in disbelief. “bro !” He throws his head back, laughing. “What? I’m just being honest! I mean, have you seen yourself?”

You try to hold back your laughter, shaking your head. “I can’t believe this man just said that on camera.”

“This is a safe space,” he replies, smirking. “No judgment, remember?”

“Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes but grinning. “We listen, and we don’t judge… but sometimes I purposely mess up my lines just so I can hear you repeat yours. Your accent is distracting.”

Kelvin stares at you, stunned, before breaking into a wide grin. “Wait—hold on. You’re telling me I’ve been messing up my takes because you can’t focus ? Are you not ashamed ?”

“I am really proud of myself when thinking about this,” you admit with a shrug. “It’s not my fault you sound good like that.”

Kelvin leans back, hand on his chest like you’ve wounded him. “You know what? I’m not even mad. That’s a compliment, low-key.”

“High-key,” you reply, smirking. Kelvin shakes his head, still smiling. “Alright, my turn. We listen, and we don’t judge… but I once told my mom you were my favorite co-star, and she called me out for blushing.”

Your eyes widen, and you laugh, covering your face. “Kelvin, stop! You’re lying”

“Im not, I’m just telling the truth,” he says, leaning closer to you. “Your turn.” You take a deep breath, pretending to think before confessing, “We listen, and we don’t judge… but sometimes I search myself on TikTok and click on edits of either myself or us because they’re so cute.”

Kelvin’s grin gets even wider. “You watch our edits?!”

“I do,” you admit, laughing. “Listen, they’re good! And honestly? The chemistry is undeniable.”

Kelvin smirks, clearly enjoying this. “See? Even the internet agrees we’re iconic.” The mood softens slightly as Kelvin says, “We listen, and we don’t judge… but sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough to show people how much I care about them. Especially you.”

You blink, surprised, before smiling warmly. “Look at him" you pout, your eyes glistening at him. "Kelvin, you’re one of the most thoughtful people I know.”

Kelvin looks at you, his grin softening into something genuine. “Alright, last one. We listen, and we don’t judge… but I think you’re one of my favorite people, and I don’t tell you that enough. Working with you on Mufasa was amazing, but getting to know you outside of all that? Even better.”

Your cheeks flush as you nudge him playfully. “Kelvin, you know what you’re doing. You’re never beating the allegations.”

“Let ‘em think what they want,” he says with a wink. The video ends with you both laughing as you lean into each other, the undeniable chemistry between you leaving the comment section in shambles.

#TikTok!Comments

@user 1 NOT HIM SAYING ‘SMASH’ I’M SCREAMING. 🫠

@user 2 The way they flirt so casually?? Get married already.

@user 3 Her admitting she searches their edits?? I’d do the same, sis.

@user 4 Kelvin really called her his favorite co-star, and I’m crying real tears.

@user 5 The chemistry is too real. aaron punching the air rn.

@user 6 They’re so natural with each other. This isn’t acting; this is love.

@The lion King Forget Mufasa. These two are the real stars.

@ melosliving 2025

[muwapsturniolo]

✯Chris dating a black girl ✯

-he would be so lost but in love

-he gets whiplash with how much you change your hair (different colored wigs, different braids, etc)

-“wasn’t your hair just blue yesterday?”

-would try and run his finger through your hair and would be scared when his hand gets stuck

-he tries to put on all your bonnets

-“why the fuck do you have so many?” “Mind the business that minds you Christoper”

-LOVES THE GLOSSED LIPS (he loves the brown lipliner combo🤭)

-buys you lipgloss from a store but gets confused when you tell him it’s the wrong one.

-“it’s lipgloss how is it wrong?”

-introducing the beauty supply✨

-he’s amazed by everything in the store and keeps trying to touch everything

-“stop touchin! My momma would have popped you by now!”

-tries to convince you to let him get a durag

-“chris baby, let’s not have you get canceled.”

-gets scared by the mannequins

-he gets stuck reading all the perfume oil names (his favorite is ‘lick me all over’)

-“you lost baby?”

-he gets scared when a auntie speaks to him but he feels warm at the pet name.

-“no?”

-stays by your side for the rest of the trip

-blushes when the aunties hype him up for paying for all your stuff.

-if you’re close with your fam, he loves going over.

-“is your mom making her peach cobbler!?”

-plays fornite with your brothers

-listens to your sister complain about their boyfriends

-if you’re not close with your fam (like me) he will listen to you complain.

-“my auntie need her shit rocked for real! I’m tired of her ass!”

-“that’s why her kids got taken. She can’t keep a man and she can’t keep her kids!” Chris chokes on his drink.

-his first cookout he was mad confused when your mom (or whoever) told him to only bring the paper plates.

-“I was going to bring cookies!”

-“bring the paper plates, ion have time to back up your cookies Chris.”

-almost cries when he doesn’t see Pepsi in the cooler and sees RC.

-looks at you aunt/grandma crazy when they demand you to make his plate first.

-“look at him! He don’t have no meat on his bones! You be starving him y/n!?” “Ion even live with him!” “A damn shame, come on baby let’s get you a plate!”

-he fucks up the food! He had three plates

-“he fuckin that shit UP!” Your cousins try to clown him.

-nervously laughs and nods along to your uncles talking about getting girls and dominos (old head shit)

-your cousin offer him to take a walk with them and he says yes but then you gotta snatch him up and tell him what that means.

-he definitely embarrasses you trying to dance.

-“I told you to only get up to the cha cha slide!”

-“I wanted to dance!”

- takes home four plates

Lemme know if yall want more of these!!!

TAG LIST 🍑

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@ivonchetooo1239 @that-general-simp @iloveurgf

[ficretus]

Bleiss origin story

*In Vacuo cafeteria*

Weiss: So, I will finally ask Jaune out.

Yang: Oof.

Weiss: What? I've planned out everything. Limo, flowers, restaurant...

Yang: That's not an issue.

Weiss: Issue? What's going on?

Blake: Weiss, how do I explain this to you...

Yang: Blondes can only be matched with dark haired partners.

Weiss: Is this some kind of joke?

Blake: I'm afraid Yang is right. You and Jaune don't compliment each other.

Weiss: Oh please, that's just a superstition.

Yang: Sorry Weiss Cream, but my family is basically that shit 1.1. Grandpa Xiao Long was blonde, married dark haired woman. Dad married both Mom and Bird Lady, both dark haired. And now, Blake and me. Ships don't lie.

Weiss: That all could have been a coincidence.

Blake: Seems I'm gonna have to call an expert. Oscar! Can you come over here.

Oscar: What's going on?

Blake: I wanna ask Oz something.

Yang: I guess you can say you are... Oz car.

Ozpin: What is it Miss Belladonna?

Blake: Is it true that blondes seek out dark haired people and vice versa?

Weiss: Oh come on, do you really want to bother Headmaster Ozpin with that?

Ozpin: It is true Miss Belladonna. There is some magic that draws them together. There is a recorded history of blonde Valean Kings marrying dark haired consorts and vice versa.

Oscar: Really?

Ozpin: Indeed. I suspect that might have been one of the reasons my marriage with Salem fell apart. You see, my first reincarnation no longer had dark hair. Sigh...

Yang: See, blond and dark hair, otherwise relationship won't work.

Oscar: *nervous laughter* I need to go. Need to buy some hair spray... for reasons. *runs away*

Weiss: That proves nothing. Royalty mostly married to preserve status, not out of love. And Ozma and Salem had million other issues, I doubt it all went wrong because of wrong hair color.

Blake: Fine, wanna live experiment?

Weiss: What kind of experiment?

Blake: *types on her scroll* I just sent pictures of all available Huntsmen and Huntresses to Sun. He'll mark them with either no, maybe or smash. Wanna bet he's gonna mark only dark haired ones with smash?

Weiss: Pfff, Sun is gonna mark half of people with sm.... *clears throat* There is no way you are gonna prove anything that way.

*five minutes later*

Blake: And results are in. *shows them to Weiss*

Weiss: No, no, no, no, no, they are all dark haired!

Yang: Hey look, he marked Raven, my uncle, girlfriend and sister with smash. Ha, ha. Sun! I wanna talk to you! *eyes turn red*

Blake: Do you see now Weiss?

Yang: Hey! Don't run away! I just wanna talk to you!

Weiss: But still. There are always exceptions to the rule. Besides, it's not like there is some dark haired woman that's gonna snatch Jaune.

*one story arc later*

Weiss: What the hell Jaune?! You are with... with... Cinder?!

Jaune: I was able to put my anger behind me. In the end, we found out we are more similar than we initially thought. As if there was something drawing us together.

Cinder: You know, I always pictured my Prince to be blonde.

Jaune: Really?

Cinder: It could only be you. *kisses Jaune*

Weiss: *laughs maniacally*

Blake: Weiss, are you alright?

Weiss: No more, no more. *laughs maniacally* There is no more Weiss. *puts on a wig* Only Bleiss.

[northescere]

haikyuu!! as things my friends and I have said

Some of these were edited a little to make more sense in Haikyuu context :]

Tendou: Coach Washijo has to let us summon Satan in the middle of practice.

•••

Atsumu: Why v@pe when you can suck watermelon lollipops? •••

Terushima: You cannot aggressively beat the Camila Cabello out of me •••

Shirabu: Some people should be shot, but some people get to be president again, ha ha ha.

•••

Tendou: My insanity would probably be the most potent drug in the world

•••

Oikawa: I’m a homosexual, heheheheheh

•••

Nishinoya: See, you can achieve greatness even with short legs

•••

Tendou: Arson is good. It’s a great pastime. Like, bored? Go burn down a building!

•••

Hinata: BYE DAICHI-SAN

Daichi: I’m not for sale

•••

Shirabu: I feel like a spear went through my head right here (points to middle of forehead) and came out at the back here

Tendou: I’M A UNICORRRN

•••

Ukai Keishin: (spectating Karasuno antics) Some people end up in the zoo

•••

Kageyama: (on the way to the training camp) oh my god I will EAT the next traffic light that turns red

•••

Semi: What about you? Don’t you say that you eat children?

Tendou: I mean I do but that’s different because I’m a human

•••

Nishinoya: ROLLING ON THE FLOOR GOING FERAL CRUNCHING ON THE FLATSCREEN TV LIKE A MEIJI CRACKER

•••

Ushiwaka: I am at Daiso. Need anything?

Tendou: sanity 

•••

Sakusa: Are you fucking dumb?

Atsumu: Yeah, how’d ya know?

•••

Tanaka: I’LL KILL YOU ALIVE— oh wait crap I made myself sound stupid again

•••

Yaku: one more time Lev makes a height joke will rip off all of his hair and then shout ‘WIG SNATCHED’ really loud

•••

Tendou: I’ll bring you on a date night in Paris

Ushiwaka: what?

Tendou: what?

•••

Kyoutani: I have this urge to bite people. But not in a sexual way, just NOM

[reveryfics]

Undercover

Pairings: T'Challa x Male reader

Summary: After learning about a international deal set to go down that could potentially cause a risk to Wakanda, T'Challa is surprised to see someone else has taken an interest in the deal.

A/n: I should mention the reader is hispanic and a international agent working for S.H.I.E.L.D, also men in dresses <3 (I suck at fight scenes)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The air in the Monte Carlo casino hung heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and desperation. T'Challa, a solitary figure amidst the throng of humanity, navigated the labyrinthine corridors, the cacophony of sounds – the clinking of dice, the raucous laughter, the mournful sighs of defeated gamblers – assaulting his senses. Slot machines blinked and whirred, their garish lights a stark contrast to the subdued elegance he was accustomed to.

He adjusted the cuffs of his impeccably tailored suit, a subtle movement that spoke volumes about his composure amidst the chaos. His gaze swept across the room, searching for his target, a man involved in a deal that could potentially destabilize Wakanda. Intelligence reports had indicated the buyer was a man, but the world was full of unexpected twists.

Shuri's voice, a lifeline through the static, crackled in his earpiece. "Any luck on the buyer, T'Challa?"

"Still no luck on a visual, Shuri," he replied, his voice a low growl against the deafening bass of the house music. "Just remember, the source emphasized a male buyer. And be careful."

T'Challa nodded, his senses on high alert. He moved with a silent grace, a panther stalking its prey. The air crackled with anticipation, a palpable sense of greed and desperation hanging heavy. This wasn't his usual stomping ground, but the stakes were high. Vibranium, in the wrong hands, could unleash a wave of destruction the world was ill-prepared to face. He had to stop this deal.

His eyes finally settled on a figure seated at a high-stakes poker table. A man, flanked by a woman whose beauty was almost distracting. The woman, draped in a crimson gown that clung to her curves like a second skin, was a vision of predatory elegance. Her gaze, however, was fixed on T'Challa, a predatory glint in her emerald eyes.

"Enjoying the view, mi príncipe?" she purred, her voice a silken caress that sent a shiver down his spine.

T'Challa, momentarily thrown, managed a charming smile. "I must confess, I find myself quite captivated," he replied, his gaze lingering on her.

He played a calculated game, observing the man, the woman, the flow of the game. The source had been adamant: a male buyer. But this woman… she exuded an aura of power, a dangerous allure that belied her appearance.

He subtly excused himself, following the man through the labyrinthine corridors of the casino. As he closed in, a hand clamped down on his arm, pulling him into a darkened alcove. He reacted instinctively, a blur of motion as he attempted to subdue his assailant.

His eyes widened in disbelief. It was the woman.

"Honestamente, pensé que un princr sería más inteligente.” she hissed, yanking off her wig to reveal a face that was decidedly masculine. "Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D and that pendejo was none the wiser until you showed up.”

T'challa, still reeling from the revelation, demanded, "What does S.H.I.E.L.D want with this?"

"Vibranium is a threat, not just to Wakanda, but to the entire world," he explained, his voice low and urgent. "My mission was to recover the case and return it to you."

A tense silence followed. Cooperation seemed unlikely.

"Let's just say… our methods differ," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He snatched a pair of VIP cards from an unsuspecting patron, handing one to T'challa. "Impressive," T'challa conceded. "Just you wait."

They navigated the VIP section, their presence unnoticed amidst the haze of cigar smoke and expensive champagne. They reached the private room, the air thick with anticipation.

The two targets, oblivious to the danger, exchanged smug glances. "Well played, gentlemen," one of them sneered. "But you've walked into a trap."

Suddenly, the room erupted in chaos. Guns materialized from nowhere, trained on the two intruders. But T'challa and him were ready. T'challa activated his suit, the fabric surging around him like a second skin, transforming him into the Black Panther.

Guards, hired muscle, and even a few disgruntled gamblers joined the fray. Unlike T'Challa even without a suit the other man was a whirlwind of motion in the red dress,he moved with a predatory grace. His movements were fluid, almost feline, a mesmerizing blend of dance and deadly intent. He dispatched opponents with a brutal efficiency, each strike swift and precise.

T'Challa, watching from the periphery, felt a strange thrill course through him. That man, in that dress, was a vision of raw power and captivating danger. There was an undeniable seduction in witnessing this man, so utterly masculine, move with such grace and lethal intent. It was a primal display, a reminder of the wildness that still lurked beneath the veneer of civilization.

Sensing T'Challa's gaze, he met his eyes with a feral glint. A silent message passed between them: This is what I am.

The fight raged on ,the man human weapon, neutralized threats with a chilling efficiency. He used the environment to his advantage, utilizing the slick marble floors to his benefit, sending opponents sprawling with expertly placed kicks. T'Challa, meanwhile, moved like a panther, his movements silent and deadly. He dispatched his foes with a quiet efficiency, his vibranium claws flashing in the dim light.

Together, they fought their way towards the targets,T'Challa secured the case while the other subdued the targets. They made their way back through the casino, the sounds of sirens growing louder in the distance.

As they slipped out of the casino, unnoticed by the arriving police, T'Challa turned to him. "You... you are unlike anyone I have ever encountered," he breathed, his voice husky with a mixture of admiration and something akin to awe.

His breath coming in ragged gasps, merely smiled. "Just trying to survive, Your Majesty."

They stood near the street, watching as police stormed the casino. "If you're ever looking for work, I'm sure we could always use a man with… your talents," T'challa paused.

He smiled, turning towards T'challa and stepping closer. "Just ask me on a date next time, mi príncipe," he purred.

T'challa couldn't even form words before the case was shoved in his hands, and the man turned towards a car that'd just parked. He waved, blowing T'challa a kiss as he got into the passenger seat.

"He's a keeper," Shuri laughed, causing T'challa's cheeks to heat up. "Most definitely.”

[archive245]

Landon: Ever since dad learned about stan language from Glyn, he's been going around talking like he's on Twitter.

Levi: Oof my wig is snatched the tea is scorching, who is this diva, thank you Beyoncé

Landon on the verge of tears: Please stop

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Invisible Smoke - Two

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he continues to pry.  Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 9.7k A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter, I truly wasn’t expecting it. I apologize for the wait, but hopefully the length will make up for it!  Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, themes of stalking, cursing, mentions of terminal and life-threatening illnesses, and combative fluff :)

The ceremony was wonderful if not a little long winded but you hardly cared as you stood with the rest of the crowd to cheer as Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson presented the Daggers, officially a squadron of Lieutenant Commanders. You caught Rooster’s eye, having watched Captain Mitchell pin the leaves to his uniform, and saw that he still had tears lining his lower lashes. You winked at him, earning a small smile and a bit of pink in his cheeks. You were so proud.

“I’m so happy for him!” Came a warbled voice and you held the phone in your hand a little higher. This wasn’t exactly how you thought you’d meet Jake’s family (not that you had ever given it much thought, really) but when he’d explained that his family couldn’t make it out to the ceremony for one reason or another, you had volunteered to make sure their FaceTime was at the right angle so they could see everything. There were four of them all crammed together—his mother, Sandra, and three sisters, Mia, Kelly, and Alex—staring at what you assumed was an iPad with how Sandra was holding it; blonde heads swiveling together to track Jake’s movements on the stage had been quite the spectacle but when you had glanced up to see Jake looking at you with the biggest, brightest smile you had ever seen it had nearly made you drop the phone.

Embarrassing.

As the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd started to disperse, you lingered near your chair and watched as everyone else reunited with the family that came to watch the ceremony, shook hands with the brass, or hurried off to the Hard Deck to celebrate because Captain Mitchell had, unsurprisingly, sweet talked Penny into letting them take over (again). You waved Tasha on when she went to wait for you and she frowned but did eventually leave, looping her arm through her older sister’s before disappearing out into the parking lot.

“Is my son making you wait?”

You glanced down at the phone with a smile. “He’s schmoozing with some of the big wigs. I’m in no rush to go anywhere.”

Sandra hummed, green eyes narrowing behind her glasses as she paused. It was almost comical how much the expression reminded you of Jake when he was thinking of something. “Well, sugar, I hate to ask this, but could you remind me of your name?”

You gave it readily but added, “most call me Punch.”

Mia once again appeared on screen, leaning down with a matching squint. “Punch?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story but-”

“Oh, we’ve heard of you.”

That had your brow pinching and you fought the urge to bring the phone closer to your face as if that would help you decipher the look on Jake’s sister’s face. All you managed to say was, “oh?”

A smile started to stretch across Mia’s face. “Don’t worry. All good things.”

The phone was snatched out of your hands before you could ask just what the hell that meant and you turned to see Jake smiling at his family on the little screen. “Hi, mama.”

“Jacob Seresin!” Sandra started. “Did you make Punch wait when she was doing you a favor?”

If possible, Jake’s smile widened and his sea glass gaze shifted to you. “Already ganging up on me with my mom?”

“Your family is a delight,” you drawled. “You must be adopted.”

There was an answering laugh that had Jake’s cheeks turning a light shade of pink before he nudged at your arm with the flat of his palm. “Get out of here.”

“It was nice to meet you, Sandra!” You hollered, already turned toward the door.

Sandra’s laugh rang out again and you walked out to the car, thankful to see a few small groups of people still milling about in the warm San Diego sun. You were quick to get into your car and lock the door behind you before curling your hands over the steering wheel. Your next breath was a slow, stuttering sigh. It had only been four days since you had seen him in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Lurking.

Smirking.

And it had been four days since you felt like you could actually breathe. A familiar pressure on your chest had been your constant companion. You knew it was part of your anxiety, a physical manifestation of your fear. You were still on that metaphorical cliff, waiting to fall. You leaned back against the seat and tried to drag in another breath but it was like your lungs couldn’t expand. Pressing your hands over your stomach you tried again and again and again until the ache lessened enough for you to continue to pretend.

Pretend to be normal.

Pretend to be okay.

You’d nearly blown it when Jake had walked you out of the Hard Deck. But maybe he just thought you really wanted to get away from him and brushed it off, thinking you were in a mood. He had only texted to make sure you made it home okay and you’d spent the rest of the night on the couch with a baseball bat clutched in a shaking grip. But you had continued on. Going to work. Putting on a smile and a brave face. Keeping your mouth shut. It was better this way.

With another stilted breath, you grabbed your bag from your backseat and changed out of your uniform and into the dress you’d picked for the night before driving off base. The Hard Deck’s parking lot was already starting to reach capacity so you took the first space you could find and smoothed out your dress as your car beeped, letting you know the doors were locked. The inside of the naval bar was just as busy as the parking lot and you dodged an elbow of someone playing darts not two steps in. Weaving through the crowd, you waved at a few familiar faces—mostly other ADs grouped near one of the windows—and waited to finally make it up to the bar. Jimmy and Penny were both fixing drinks and a few other employees were picking up empty glasses left abandoned on high tops and booths. It might be a minute.

“Hey.”

You looked to the side with a smile and pulled Bob into a hug which he quickly reciprocated. “Hey yourself, Lieutenant Commander Floyd.”

Bob’s cheeks flushed a tiny bit and he adjusted his grip on the hat beneath his arm as you stepped back. “You’ve got to meet my brother before he flies out.”

“Of course. But first, let me buy you a drink.” And as he opened his mouth to protest, you shook your head. “You wouldn’t let me do anything else so I’m buying you a drink.” Bob sighed but dutifully followed you up to the bar and let you pay for his ginger ale but grumbled when you insisted on buying his brother’s drink, too. You also had Penny put together a round for the Daggers you knew would be circling the pool tables soon enough. Bob helped you carry everything toward the table where his brother was waiting. You’d ‘met’ Bob’s brother, Harrison, a few times when you accidentally barged in on Bob FaceTiming his family but it was nice to finally meet him in person. He was just as charming as Bob but had a few more extroverted tendencies and regaled you with stories about the year he took off before medical school to ‘visit’ Bob who was stationed in Hawaii and spent the entire time learning to surf and trying to teach Bob, too.

“I never quite got the hang of it,” Bob admitted, still sipping on his ginger ale.

“You tried your best!” Harrison said with a kind smile. But soon his phone was beeping and he grimaced before standing from the table. “All right. I’ve gotta catch my flight back to New York.”

“Let me know when you land,” Bob murmured as he stood and wrapped him in a hug.

You might have heard a muffled ‘of course,’ before they separated but you definitely heard Harrison say, “I’m so proud of you.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder again before turning to you with a smile and he surprised you with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“That’s mostly Phoenix,” you said with a smile.

But Harrison shook his head. “I’m sure it is a team effort. Now, keep in touch, okay?” And then he breezed away, disappearing into the crowd and probably into a waiting taxi outside.

You spoke for a little longer, mostly about the ceremony and how Cyclone actually seemed like a human instead of a robot the last handful of days but Admiral Cain still seemed like a douchebag of the highest order. By now the rest of the Daggers had arrived, to much fanfare in the bar, and would sometimes filter by the table to grab a beer and chat for a bit—Natasha’s sister was a riot and had Tasha’s blushing a surprising shade of scarlet after telling you and Bob a particularly embarrassing story about “baby Tash” trying to jump off the roof with a bedsheet cape before she, too, had to leave to catch a flight back home. And you almost hated that you knew the exact moment Jake entered the bar, like you couldn’t help but turn toward him whenever he appeared, like a sunflower facing the sun. Again…embarrassing. However, you noticed Bob kept looking at the group of women circled around one of the high tops and you nudged his shoulder with your own. “Don’t,” he muttered.

“What?” You asked, fighting a smile.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He took another sip of his ginger ale and shook his head. “It isn’t happening.”

“And why not? You deserve someone nice. They look nice…for the most part,” you added with a scrunch of your nose. “Maybe the blonde in the red dress looks a bit mean, but the rest of them look nice. Want me to go over there and test the waters? I can see which ones would be down to handle that sword-”

“Punch!” It was honestly impressive how quickly Bob’s face went a violent shade of scarlet and he nearly dropped his pop.

“You got a sword with your promotion. I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I am a lady, Bobert.”

He snorted and knuckled at his glasses to push them up again. “Sure. Sure you are, Punch.”

Then you laughed. You laughed and that weight in your chest cracked and fizzled out. For now, you could breathe again. Bob eventually got you up and away from the table with the promise to take it easy on you with a game of pool—he lied. The WSO absolutely demolished you in an embarrassingly quick game.

“That was brutal,” Tasha said as she grabbed a beer.

“It was.” You handed her the cue with a wince. “But, to make it up to me, Bob now has to let me test the waters with the ladies he’s been eyeing all night.”

Tasha glanced over at the group when you tilted your head in their direction and hummed. “Not the blonde in the red dress. She looks mean.”

Bob just groaned. “Please keep the sword innuendos to a minimum.”

“Why? You need someone who knows how to handle that ceremonial saber-”

The sound of someone choking on their beer had you all turning to see Jake wiping at his face. Tasha, smirking, smacked him on the back a few times to ‘help.’ He nudged her away with a halfhearted scowl as he licked the last few drops from his lips. “Jesus.”

“What?”

Jake’s smirk vanished but you could tell he was fighting to keep it down as his brows furrowed in an echo of a certain Admiral’s disappointed frown. “So crass-”

“Oh, blow me, Ken. It isn’t like you don’t have a list of sword-related pickup lines or nicknames at the ready.”

Tasha laughed into her beer and you felt a little zing of pride—you always did when you made her laugh.

“You did call that one barracks bunny a sword swallower,” Rooster said, cutting into conversation with ease. And it was then that the party really seemed to start and you let Tasha pull you into a game of darts (you lost) before you did actually try to get a read on the group of women and deciding that, actually, they all seemed a little mean and they were more interested in Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson anyway, if their drunken whispers were anything to go by.

You’d find a lady for Bob. One day.

After watching Bradley and Tasha beat Billy and Neil at pool and finally finishing your drink, you remembered Sarah’s invitation and stepped to Bradley’s side again as he went to grab another beer from the table. As soon as you were within reach, he slung an arm over your shoulders and hauled you closer. “You doing okay?” He asked, voice low.

You sagged in his grip, a reaction you couldn’t fight. He made you feel safe. He always did. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

You winced at the tone. He had an innate way of knowing you were feeling off. And you hadn’t been exactly subtle in how you were acting lately. But you didn’t want to put more on Bradley’s plate, not now. Not when he was high on the new hardware on his collar. “Yeah,” you said, trying to sound convincing before changing the subject. “Sarah’s throwing an engagement party for Junior. She said I could bring someone and I thought you’d like to go? I know it’s been a minute since you’ve seen them all.”

Bradley set down his beer with a nod, licking the droplets from his lips. “When is it?”

“Friday.” And your heart plummeted as Bradley’s face crumpled and his arm slipped from your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Punch, but I promised Mav I’d help him haul in a part for his plane—we’re leaving at like five in the morning on Saturday.”

You nodded as you pinched your lower lip between your fingers until Bradley swatted it away with a knowing look. “I can ask Bob-”

“Bob and Phoenix have been asked to speak in Annapolis this weekend.”

Fuck. Fuck! You knew that. How could you forget? He’d been so excited when he got the call to lead a few classes back at his alma mater. “This is fine. I can just go by my-”

“I’ll go with you.”

**

Jake heard something in your neck pop with how quickly you turned your head to look at him. “What?”

And Jake almost recoiled at the amount of shock in your tone. “I mean, if you need someone to go with you.” Then, when neither you or Bradley said anything, Jake was about to retract his offer, already feeling stupid for opening his mouth in the first place. Usually he’d be more conscious to not let anyone know he was eavesdropping but the four beers he’d had probably loosened his tongue and he’d pounced at the opportunity to take you anywhere before he could stop himself with thoughts of repercussions. “I-”

“You’d do that?” And Jake hated how small your voice was, barely heard over the noise of the bar.

“Yeah. ‘Course.” And your smile was near blinding, twisting at something Jake didn’t want to acknowledge behind his ribs.

He listened intently to what the party was about—engagement for your not-actual-little brother, and when you’d pick him up—“I’m driving, you’re going to have to deal with it,” and what was expected—“just have a good time. And sign the card I’m buying, you can take half the credit for the gift I’m bringing, too.”

It sounded like it could be a good time. But if you smiled at him like that again, he’d probably agree to anything. You also told Jake to be ready by 18:20 next Friday so you’d be on time for the party and then Jake tried to ignore how that familiar feeling came roaring back in the confines of his chest as he watched you walk back toward the bar.

A hand clapping on his shoulder pulled Jake from admiring how your hips swayed with each step and he turned to see Rooster still standing beside him. His hazel eyes went from Jake to you and then back to Jake. “Let’s have a chat, Bagman.”

Fuck.

**

By the time you swiped a bit of tinted balm over your lips, you’d told yourself sixteen times that you were making a mistake but, “it would be fine.” You checked your watch and nodded: you were still on time. Early, actually. Jake would meet you at the Hard Deck and then you’d drive you both over to the Kazansky home to save room on the driveway—knowing Sarah, she’d probably invited half the people in her contacts and would still consider it a small party.

And you were contemplating texting Jake and telling him to forget it and that you’d go by yourself. It was too risky. Too intimate. Accepting his offer to go with you had been stupid. And choosing a dress that you knew made your tits look good because you’d caught Jake looking at you the last time you wore a dress like this was also very, very stupid. But when your phone chirped and Jake’s text lit up the screen—“Ready when you are, Punch!”—you knew it was too late.

And really…didn’t you deserve to have a good night?

He had robbed you of enough, hadn’t he? You could have one night. And there was a small bit of you that hoped he was satisfied with just scaring you once.

When you pulled into the Hard Deck’s parking lot, you were barely stopped before the passenger side door opened and Jake slid in with a bright smile and filled your car with the scent of his cologne—leather and oak moss and something distinctly Jake. “Ready?”

“Do you usually hurl yourself into moving vehicles or is that a recent addition to your lengthy list of ways you are a man-child?”

Jake’s smile widened. “You keeping lists about me?”

You resisted the urge to smack his arm and scowled instead as you reached into the backseat to grab the card you’d picked and made sure to hit him in the chest with it and the pen you wrestled from the bottom of your purse. “Sign that.”

Jake clicked the pen several times as he read over the mushy words Hallmark had written for a recently engaged couple and you drummed your fingers against the steering wheel as you slowed to a stop at a red light. If he said anything about the paragraph you wrote you might just-

“This is a nice card.” He then signed his name with a flourish and tucked it into the envelope. “What gift did you get them?”

“We got them an engagement photo shoot with a photographer who I may or may not have bombarded with emails and bribed after realizing Taylor follows her on instagram.” Were you proud of that? Not really. But you had felt extraordinarily bad after realizing that Junior had texted you after he proposed and you hadn’t responded until two weeks later. You knew he’d say there was nothing to apologize for but you still felt the need to make up for it.

“No, Punch,” he started. “My mama told me to never take credit for something I didn’t do. That gift is from you. I got them this.” He held up a bottle of champagne that you knew cost a few hundred dollars with a little silver bow taped to the neck. How you managed to miss that when he basically threw himself into your car, you’d never know (you were probably distracted by the way his thighs flexed beneath his nice trousers).

But it didn’t matter. You sealed the card after slipping the photographer’s business card inside. “It would’ve been fine, you know. But I’m sure they’ll love the champagne, too.”

Jake’s chest puffed a bit at that and you tried to not look too much at the tan skin that was revealed with the movement nor the silver links of his dog tags you knew were hiding beneath his obscenely tight shirt. You failed. And when he caught you looking, his smirk returned.

You couldn’t have that. “Careful, Ken. If you pop a button I’ll have to drop you on the nearest street corner.”

And then the asshole actually unbuttoned the next button. “I like to think I’d be a high-end escort. Like for senators.”

The answering laugh punched out of you before you could even pretend to not find him funny.

The rest of the drive was spent slapping his hand away from the radio when he said your taste in music was terrible—even when you caught him singing along with Stevie on your preferred classic rock station. It was good and easy and you almost hated it by the time you parked outside Sarah’s house, managing to snag a place beside the mailbox.

Jake was at your side before you reached the front door and knocked his foot into yours when you sucked in a breath before knocking at the front door. Yeah. Coming with him was a mistake. A beautiful, terrible mistake.

**

Jake had never been to the Kazansky home. On the ride over, you gave him a rundown on who he needed to know—Missus Kazansky, Junior and his fiancée Taylor, and younger sister Lily—and how to behave. It was mostly good natured ribbing and an actual threat to push him out a window if he hit on Lily.

“Okay, no Lily, but Missus Kazansky is free game?” That quip had earned him a glare so intense he would swear he saw his life flash before his eyes.

Worth it.

After all, it wasn’t all that often that Jake got to see you like this. Sure, he saw you in uniform on base and you had the innate ability to have a spare change of clothes wherever you went so you were never in uniform when you didn’t need to be so he got to see you in civvies often. But that was usually jeans and t-shirts. Maybe that one pair of shorts he thought about when he couldn’t sleep, if he was lucky.

But right now you were in another dress and he could see the thighs that he definitely didn’t dream about peeking out from the skirt as you shifted your weight from foot to foot. You were…

He couldn’t say gorgeous.

He couldn’t say beautiful.

He couldn’t say stunning.

So, you were special. And right now, as you waited at his side for the door to open, he could smell your perfume. Gardenias and sunshine.

His grandmother had special flower beds just for her gardenias—she once said that the soil in southern Texas was too acidic for her favorite flower but she was determined to have them near the ranch and had planter boxes filled with specialty soil and heaps of the flowers. All of his favorite memories of home were filled with the scent of the small white blooms.

And then there was you. You smelled like home.

The door opened and a petite blonde smiled at you before wrapping you in a quick hug. “Oh, sweetheart, you know you don’t need to knock.”

“Old habits,” you murmured as you returned the hug. When you stepped back, you gestured to Jake. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He’s part of the Dagger Squadron with Bradley. Jake, this is Sarah Kazansky.”

After shaking her hand and murmuring his thanks for letting him tag along, Jake stood a little straighter as Missus Kazansky’s eyes looked him over. “You’re Hangman, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you from Pete.” Then, without giving any indication as to what that meant, she waved you in and Jake followed suit. The inside of the large house was filled with people with champagne flutes in their hands as soft pop ballads from decades ago filtered through a hidden sound system, crooning about love.

You complimented Sarah on the tasteful decorations and earned yourself a motherly pat to your cheek before she called out for someone. There was an answering squeal and you shoved the card in your hand to Jake just in time to brace as a younger woman wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!”

You laughed and returned the hug before holding her at arm's length with a smile. “Pasadena looks good on you! And you’re so close to graduating!”

This must be Lily, then. Jake watched you talk with her for a moment, seeing you smile as you traded a few short stories and Lily tugged at the skirt of your dress with a mischievous look in her eye. “You’ve gotta tell me where you bought this. You’re a bombshell.”

You waved away the compliment—as Jake knew you often did—and rattled off some store name as Lily shook her head.

“No, no. Take the compliment. You look gorgeous.” Then Lily’s sharp eyes moved to Jake. Jesus Christ. She was Ice Man’s daughter—that look was cold and calculating. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

And Jake’s mouth opened-

“Lily, c’mon. Stop it.” Your voice was nearly a whine. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He is one of the Daggers with me at Top Gun. Jake, this is Lily Kazansky. She’s about to graduate from Cal Tech with her degree in Engineering and applied science.”

A matching smile pushed at Lily’s mouth as her eyes raked over him. While Jake usually preened over such an obvious once-over, there was absolutely nothing wanting in her gaze. And maybe having you standing beside him helped…but he wasn’t going to address that. “Hangman. Yeah. I’ve heard of you.” Then Lily’s gaze flickered to you. “Enjoy the party. I think Mom needs my help in the kitchen.” And then she flounced away as you sighed.

“She’s…”

“Don’t say it,” you griped, pulling the envelope out of his grasp again.

“I was going to say intense.”

You nodded as you gnawed on your bottom lip before grabbing the champagne Jake was still holding and setting it on the gift table behind you. “She’s all Tom. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s running the Pacific Fleet by the time she’s forty.” But you waved that away, too, and tugged at his arm, leading him toward the exorbitant spread of finger foods on another table a few paces away. You snagged him a flute of champagne as you handed him a plate and then Jake let you wrangle you both onto a pair of the few remaining empty seats near the kitchen bar.

“Not going to mingle?”

“God, no. I hate mingling. You are free to go off and schmooze, if you want. There are a few people here you may know—probably shook hands with them at your ceremony.” You waved your flute toward a group of middle aged men near the fireplace and, yes, Jake knew them. All of them were upper echelons of the Navy brass and had congratulated him on the promotion. “I won’t hold your seat though.”

Jake laughed and shook his head. “I think I’m good right where I am, Punch. But thank you.” He glanced over at the men to see them already looking in your direction. They each raised their highball glasses with practiced smiles which you and Jake reciprocated with a tip of your champagne flutes. “You sure you don’t want to talk to them?”

You shrugged as you turned back to your food, plucking a small cube of cheese from the assortment and eating it quickly. “If I wanted to talk to them, I could’ve done it at barbecues or one of Sarah’s soirées that she liked to host. I just…don’t care enough. I climbed up the ranks by accident mostly. I like where I am.”

Jake frowned at that. “What do you mean?” You were headstrong and tenacious. Not having drive or ambition just didn’t line up with what he knew about you, with how you presented yourself.

You popped a cherry tomato into your mouth and chewed and swallowed before answering, almost like you were stalling for time. “I’m not a lifer like you, Jake. I didn’t dream of joining the navy as a kid or anything like that. You probably had a vision board or something, right? Asked for model planes since you could talk. You look the type. Probably ate some of the pieces, too.”

But Jake didn’t take the bait and he’d never admit that he did swallow lego when he was seven. “Then why did you enlist? You could go anywhere.”

You were quiet again and that familiar twist in his chest returned as your lips pushed up in a small smile. Then your eyes searched his face, visibly debating something, and you must have found what you were looking for because you nodded, just once, unknowingly twisting the knife you didn’t know you held. “You caught me in a good mood. I’ll tell you. No one will believe you, but I’ll tell you.”

He resisted the urge to grab at your hand and just hold it as he said, “try me.”

“Sparknotes version?”

Jake wanted to know everything. Wanted to ask you to tell him every little detail so he could know you better than anyone else. But he could wait. Maybe. “Sure.”

“My little brother, Danny, got sick his first year of high school. Really sick. Expensive sick. I was in my last year of school and had the choice to either go to university or find a job that could help with the bills.” Your next breath had your shoulders sagging. “The Navy was the only recruitment office that wasn’t on lunch when I walked in. Four days after graduating high school, I was shipping off for training. Then I was volunteering for any deployment that my commanding officers even hinted at because I knew that deployment meant more pay. So, I was accidentally a decorated AD because I was desperate.”

Jake felt you jump when his hand landed on yours as it rested on the table beside him but you didn’t pull away so he selfishly curled his fingers over your wrist, content to feel the warmth you exuded. He remembered the photo on your desk and the soft look you’d been giving him—that was your baby brother. “Is he-”

“Oh, he’s fine now. Finishing up his doctorate at MIT.” Another smile pushed at your lips as you shook your head before your other hand settled over Jake’s. “Healthy as can be. Lily actually reminds me a lot of Danny. Both of them hated their English classes in high school. They’d prefer to have a root canal than write a book report. I probably did too much to actually have them learn anything about The Catcher in the Rye or Persuasion, but I just wanted to see them succeed.”

Jake’s heart leapt when he felt your thumb sweep over his knuckles as you kept looking out over the crowd. It was just a little touch. A little brush of your skin on his. And it was…special.

But as soon as it started, it stopped as you pulled your hands away from him and waved at someone in the crowd. “There’s the couple of the hour.”

Jake turned to see a younger blond guy with his arm wrapped around a smiling brunette. She’d reached up to tangle her fingers with his, showing off the massive rock on her finger. They must be Junior and Taylor—the pair certainly had that look about them that all newly engaged couples had. Well, almost all couples. Jake knew some weren’t so fortunate.

You hopped off the seat and dragged Junior and Taylor into quick hugs as Jake followed suit and stood, shaking both their hands as you introduced him. You oohed and ahhhed over the engagement ring and poked at Junior’s cheek when he blushed as Taylor recounted the story of the proposal. You handed over the card and Jake saw you curl your hands into fists behind your back as Junior opened it almost immediately.

Just as she finished reading, Taylor all but launched herself at you and Jake had to keep you upright by catching you at the hips when you started to teeter backward. And, only for a moment, Jake thought about doing this with you all the time. Thought about showing you off at parties, watching you smile, keeping you upright with a laugh on your tongue. The invisible knife twisted again as Junior caught his eye and arched a brow after glancing at his hands on your hips.

“Oh! I can’t believe it! This is so kind!” Taylor turned to Junior with a beaming smile, waving the business card like a flag, and explained that she actually followed the photographer on Instagram and loved her work, just as you’d said in the car.

Jake felt you relax in his grip at that, a relief to know your gift was well received. “I’ve made a list of all the weekends she has available for the next six weeks. She said you two would have first dibs—you just need to call her and tell her what date and time works for you.” You’d off-handedly mentioned that both Taylor and Junior were in the middle of their medical school residencies and were rarely free for more than a few hours at a time every other week.

You spoke a little longer and Jake earned a bright smile from Taylor when he said that she and Junior would probably be the photographer’s most liked post on her page—he also earned an elbow to the gut from you, too. Jake didn’t care, not when he heard you laugh.

“But we’ll let you get back to your other guests. Thanks for letting me hold you up for a little.”

Junior frowned and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You’re never holding us up.”

“You’re always welcome,” Taylor said with another brilliant smile.

You nodded with a matching smile and mentioned that Jake had brought a bottle of champagne and Junior was the one to smile this time. “That’s my favorite bottle, man, thanks!”

Then you spun in Jake’s hold and all but shoved him backward toward your abandoned seats and the smile you gave him had his entire chest aching. “They’re so happy. Don’t they look happy?”

And he had to smile, too. “They do, Punch.”

But your eyes tracked to something over his shoulder and Jake turned to see you looking at that same group of men from earlier and you rolled your spine, straightening your posture. “I’m going to introduce you.”

“I thought you said you didn’t talk to them.”

“I don’t. Not as Naval officers, anyway. They think I’m like a very distantly related and adopted niece or something. They know me but don’t…know me, you know?”

Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes but simply said, “no.”

“Doesn’t matter. C’mon, let me get you promoted again.” You were then a flurry of demure smiles and careful introductions that seemed to instantly endear you to the group of brass and Jake was readily folded into their conversations as you slipped away from his side with a wink and a mouthed “you owe me!” after being talked over twice—maybe they really didn’t have any clue that you were in the Navy as well. It almost made Jake want to excuse himself, too. But he knew you’d probably chew him out for that. Rooster’s ‘talk’ from the other night on the Hard Deck came ringing through his mind: “There’s another reason we call her punch. She can roll with the punches. But that doesn’t mean she should have to. If she comes to me on Monday and says anything about you ruining her night, I’ll shoot you out of the sky.”

You knew that officer promotions were always a game of politics and who you know so getting Jake on a friendly basis with men like this was invaluable. So, yes, Jake did owe you. But he was having a hard time fully investing in the ham-handed conversations and when he was halfheartedly listening to Rear Admiral Cunningham speak about his latest secretary snafu, Jake caught you moving through the crowd with Lily hot on your heels and a laugh on your tongue. He could hear it over the din of the party and he felt himself smiling despite knowing he shouldn’t in the present company. You and Lily were soon joined by Sarah and three of you danced around a little, sipping on canned sparkling waters. When Taylor and Junior joined in the impromptu dance party, he could hear your excited laughter.

Jake remembered that you sat with the Kazansky family during the funeral, holding Lily’s hand as she sobbed. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now he could see it. You were one of them, unofficially of course. An older sister to the kids. Another daughter to Sarah and Admiral Kazansky, if he was willing to bet.

You were special.

**

The party had continued on. The dancing you and Lily had started had somehow sprouted to most of Junior and Taylor’s friends and the living room had transformed into a dance floor. You noticed Jake stepped out onto the back porch with the group of brass and tried to tell yourself that the pride you felt was purely coincidental. That you would have introduced any of the Daggers to them and wished them the best. Really. The warmth you felt wasn’t anything other than friendly. Really. But by 10, the party was wrapping up—Lily needed to drive back to Pasadena and Junior was murmuring with a few of his friends about an “after party”—and you’d started helping Sarah clean up as people filtered out. The kids had each given you a squeeze before leaving and promised to text you when they got home.

As you tugged a trash bag around the living room and tossed the paper plates into it, you glanced up to see Jake taking a handful of half-filled champagne flutes into the kitchen. The few sentences you’d exchanged with Missus Seresin during the promotion ceremony did give you a bit of insight into Jake’s upbringing—you could see a little Jake helping in the kitchen, being told how to properly wash pans and how to keep an eye on a boiling pot under the watchful eye of his mother or older sisters.

But you weren’t supposed be thinking about that and shook it away with a grimace as you yawned. You grabbed another stack of discarded plates and pushed them into the bag with a little more force than what was necessary as Jake circled back into the living room.

Sarah stepped to your side with a tired smile of her own. “You can stay here, sweetheart. We still have your room upstairs.” She then turned to Jake with a smile. “The bed is big enough.”

You choked on your next breath and Jake patted your back as he fought a smile. “We-” you wheezed the word.

“We’re not together, but you’re kind to offer.”

Pink flooded Sarah’s cheeks and she pressed a hand over her mouth for a moment. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought…” She waved it away. “Either way, both of you are welcome to stay the night.”

“I think we’re actually going to head out as soon as everything’s cleaned up. Thank you again for inviting me and letting me bring a friend along.”

Sarah hummed as she tried to nudge the couch back into its usual position and watched as Jake quickly took over the task without issue before once again starting to grab the remaining flutes left by the window sill and take them to the kitchen—you heard him carefully putting them into the dishwasher. “Yes, a friend.”

Embarrassment burned and clawed at your throat and you turned away to see if there were any other plates for you to throw away. “Barely a friend.”

“Sure, sweetheart. I definitely can see where I got confused with the way you were smiling at him and the way he looks at you like you hung the stars. My mistake.”

“He doesn’t.” The words were barely more than squeaks. “And…and I don’t smile at him like anything.”

Sarah hummed, again. “Whatever you say.”

You tried not to think about Sarah’s words as you settled back into your car a few minutes later. Jake let out a sigh as he buckled in and you tried to ignore how his cologne once again filled the small space. And it was so strange that your body seemed to seize and relax at the same time because of it. Like you were fighting two separate and equal instincts.

“Thanks for coming tonight. I hope you had fun,” you said as you pulled away from the curb, waving at Sarah through the windshield.

“They certainly know how to throw a party.”

“This was tame. One time Junior threw a rager when his parents were out of town and his entire fraternity swarmed the house.” You smiled at the memory, remembering ordering a group of frat boys around at the crack of dawn to clean the house before his parents got home. Junior baked you a cake in thanks after learning you’d been the one to stall Tom and Sarah for a few extra hours by suggesting they stop for brunch on their way back. Lily had done the same after you’d helped her get all the bubbles out of the hot tub after she and her friends had filled it with something you’d rather not mention.

Jake was quiet for a moment as you turned down the street, heading toward the highway. “How do you know them? I mean, you seem pretty close.”

Your tongue pressed against your cheek as you thought about how to phrase your answer. Had to be careful. Had to make sure you didn’t reveal something you shouldn’t. “Bradley introduced us.” There, that was vague enough. “Admiral Kazansky was good to me. His family looked after me during a really weird time in my life and I tried to repay that kindness, in any way I could. After all, I did have some experience with what they needed.” You sighed and scraped the edge of your thumbnail against your lip. You’d been the one to deal with the home care nurses when Sarah needed a break. You knew a few ways to help Tom be comfortable through his treatments and he seemed to be grateful that he didn’t need to ask for them, keeping a little bit of his pride. You’d been so hopeful when he’d gone into remission but tried to keep it together when it had come back. You were happy to play the part of stalwart supporter when the prognosis came back grim. “They’re good people.”

Your stomach churned when you thought of why you’d met the Kazansky family but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. But you changed the subject, asking about the surely-dull conversations Jake had with the brass as you merged onto the highway.

“…if I ever get that boring, you have my permission to smack me,” he finished with a grimace.

“You’d probably like that too much. You’re just going to have to be boring and live with the consequences.” Proving your point, Jake smiled when you smacked his hand away from your radio again. There was no way you were changing the station when David Bowie was singing. Absolutely not. And then when “Rhiannon” came on next, you made sure to crank the volume as Jake pretended to not know the words.

You were having a great time. Really. And it was a little terrifying how easily he made you laugh when he finally gave in and started to croon (a little off key) alongside your pitchy warbling. But it petered out as Jake looked back with a squint but turned forward with a frown. When he turned to look back again you turned down the radio with a frown of your own and glanced in your rear view mirror. “What is it?”

“The car behind you keeps speeding up and slowing down.”

While keeping an eye on the traffic in front of you, you looked at the car Jake pointed out and your stomach sunk to your feet as you watched it drive under the next streetlight.

It was a black ‘67 Dodge Charger with a distinctive sword charm hanging from the rear view mirror.

You knew that car. You knew that charm.

And despite the shadows of the car hiding the driver’s face, you knew who was behind the wheel.

And just as that realization dawned on you, the charger’s brights flashed and you winced as the lights flooded your car.

“What is this guy’s problem?” Jake grumbled, turning back around to stare.

“I…” What could you possibly say? You couldn’t tell Jake. Wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever. But it didn’t matter because the next time you glanced in the rear view you realized the charger was about to ram into the back of your car. You stomped on the gas and the engine roared as you tried to avoid the collision.

But he kept coming.

Your heart clawed its way up behind your teeth as you merged into the next lane over, earning an angry honk from a Jeep for not using your turn signal, and the charger sped past and you almost thought you were in the clear but then he was merging too, slamming on his brakes and you had to swerve back into the other lane to avoid crashing into his trunk.

“Jesus!” Jake yelled.

“I-I’m sorry!” The words were torn from your throat but you doubted Jake heard them over the barrages of angry honks and the thundering of your car’s engine, nearly drowned out by the growl of the charger’s overpowered mechanics.

The charger moved, keeping pace with your car and you were only given a warning in the form of Jake yelling before you realized that the car was coming into your lane. You yanked the wheel, nearly hitting the dividing wall as you avoided it and pressed the accelerator to the floor. You weaved around two cars, earning more honks as you used the shoulder to gain distance, and then noticed the next exit was only half a mile away. You needed to get off the highway.

“Fuck!”

The charger followed you onto the shoulder and you knew you had to move. Now or never. You moved across the highway and nearly clipped the barrier as you shot onto the off-ramp, a cacophony of squealing brakes and horns providing a terrible soundtrack to your horrendous driving. But it worked. You saw the charger try to get to the exit, too, and miss. He had to drive on. Away from you.

You hardly remember driving the rest of the way back to the Hard Deck in silence, your heart still stuck behind your teeth. Every few seconds, you’d check your rear view mirror but you didn’t see that car again. When you parked in the Hard Deck’s lot, you finally peeled your hands away from the steering wheel and your fingers shook and ached.

“What the fuck was that?” Jake asked after a stretch of silence.

You tried to suck in a breath and only managed to make your lungs burn. You needed to calm down. Needed it. Needed… “I-I have to call Bradley,” you muttered, shaking hand scrambling through the contents of your purse to grab at your phone. “I have to-”

“What’s Bradshaw going to do? He’s out in the desert with Mav. I’m right here, Punch. Tell me.”

But you only shook your head and had your phone dialing Bradley’s number before it even reached your ear. But it rang. And rang. And rang.

“This is Bradshaw. Can’t come to the phone right now-”

Fuck. You killed the call with an unsteady breath and none too gently shoved your phone back into your purse before pressing your nails into your thighs, needing to feel something other than your racing heart. Tiny pinpricks of pain zipped up your leg and you let your head fall back against the headrest before uncurling your hands. This was better. This was okay. You’d made it. For now, you were okay. “I…need a drink.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

You turned to the side and felt just a smidge of mortification wash over you as you realized Jake was still sitting there, waiting for you. Fuck. “I’ll get you one, too.” Then you were up and out of your car, hitting the lock button four times just to make sure, and all but stomping into the Hard Deck with Jake on your heels.

**

It was either a blessing or a curse that none of the other Daggers were at the bar tonight as Jake followed you up to the mostly un-busy bar and rattled off your usual order. “And please get Jake whatever he wants,” you said, handing over your card to Jimmy.

Jake slipped into the barstool at your side and studied you for a moment. It was almost like you hadn’t nearly crashed your car three times or run off the road by a charger with a vendetta. If he didn’t know you better—and Jake tried to ignore that it was becoming clearer by the day that maybe he didn’t know you as well as he thought—he might think you were just out for a nightcap. But the vacancy of your expression was too…careful. Too practiced. It looked like there was a concentrated effort to keep your brow from pinching.

“You wanna tell me what that was back there?” He asked, almost tentative. He just…wanted to make sure you were okay, but he wanted answers, too. The way you were reacting wasn’t normal. The complete shut down of your previous panic wasn’t right.

Your next breath was slow, measured. “I must’ve cut him off or something. Road rage is a hell of a thing.”

Jake bit back the disbelieving comment and thanked Jimmy as he set the drinks down with a small smile and handed back your card. Fine. “So you needed to call Rooster after all that but can’t tell me what you really think happened?” Jake had seen all the close contact between you and Rooster. He’d seen how you’d whisper in the other man’s ear. He had seen how Rooster was always ready for you with a hug or an arm around your shoulder. And no, Jake didn’t hate that. Didn’t hate that you seemed to trust Rooster more than him and he had been the one to be in the car with you tonight. “Is he your boyfriend or something? Fuck buddy?”

Your unamused stare over the edge of your glass had Jake sitting a little straighter. “He’s not my type,” you said with a shrug before downing the rest of the small drink.

“You sure? ‘Cause it sure as hell seems like-”

Your glass hitting the bar top stifled any other words Jake might have said. “Look, I’ve been trying for eighteen months to get Bradley to admit he’s in love with redacted.” You flagged down Jimmy and asked for a refill with an easy smile that evaporated the second you looked back at Jake. Your arched eyebrow had his stomach clenching for several different reasons he didn’t have the time to address. “Any other slightly invasive questions you want to ask? Want to know my social security number? What color of underwear I’m wearing?”

Jake could feel the tips of his ears burning. You were relentless. But good. At least he was getting some sort of reaction out of you. “Those are two wildly different questions, you know.”

“I do know. So, hurry up and ask. I’m giving you until my drink arrives.”

He had a million more questions but he really did need a straight answer. He could be relentless, too. But first: “You literally said redacted.”

“So smart, Ken! Look at you go!”

“Who is redacted?”

The next smile you gave him was all teeth and your tone was as condescending as Cyclone on a bad day, “well, now, Ken, when someone says ‘redacted,’ it means-”

Jake’s hand pressed over your mouth, and he sighed as he felt you frown beneath his palm. Fine. He could switch tactics. He could get one real answer out of you tonight. “You can’t blame me for thinking that something else is going on. Do you love him?”

You peeled his hand away from your face as your new drink was quickly placed in front of you and you drained it as if you needed it to deal with him. “You know, there is a Greek word,Philia. It’s one of the different types of love from Greek Philosophy-”

“Punch-”

“And it’s a brotherly love. But since I know you won’t take that as an answer, no. I don’t love him in the way you’re insinuating. And he doesn’t love me that way, either.” The look in your eyes reminded Jake of someone having just come down after g-loc as your fingernail tapped against the glass’ base. Click. Click. Click. “Bradley has seen me at my lowest. Bob, too. Sometimes I think they only keep me around so I don't do something stupid.” Your mouth rolled to the side as the tapping stopped and you pushed the glass away before reaching for your purse.

“That’s not true-”

“Look, tonight has been weird. Okay? Can’t deny that. I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.” You shook your head as you pulled out a few bills for a tip and the second drink and set them under your empty glass. And you wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t even turn toward him again. Jake’s hands curled into fists at his sides to fight the urge to reach out to you, to try to let you know that he would do it all again. All of it. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I owe you.” And then you turned and left.

**

Driving home shouldn’t be a problem, right? You just needed to put the key in the ignition, shift into drive, and go home. But you just couldn’t move. Couldn’t pull your eyes away from the dark dashboard.

He had found you while you were on the road. He had tried to crash your car. He had tried to run you off the road. He had tried to kill you.

While Jake was in the car with you.

Tears burned your eyes and you limply let them fall, your hands not moving from your lap. A familiar, dull ringing settled over your ears and you slumped further into your seat, only to feel your entire body go rigid as you heard someone stepping up to your car, sand sliding beneath their shoes on the pavement.

You swung around as the door opened, ready to fight, ready to scream, but felt yourself deflate as Jake leaned down, shoving his way into the car to haul you closer, warm, muscular arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. And that just about broke you. The first sob was ripped out of your throat and the next followed in rapid succession as you grasped loosely at the front of his shirt. The scent of his expensive cologne was almost calming. Almost comforting.

His hands moved up and down, up and down, along your spine and you vaguely heard him whispering something to you. Something like, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” But it was barely more than white noise to your ears as your body shook. But soon you were pulling back, eyes bleary and itchy. God. You were a mess. There was an apology on the tip of your tongue that died as soon as Jake’s large hand gently, carefully cupped your cheek and his calloused thumb swiped against the delicate half moon of skin beneath your eye.

“Let me drive you home.”

Your chin wobbled with new tears and a fresh wave of self-loathing washed over you but you still nodded. It was a moment of weakness. A moment you were sure you’d regret but you just needed help. Just a little. Just for now. But still, you let Jake help you over the center console and into the passenger seat. Before you had the chance to move, Jake reached over and buckled you in and moved to do the same for himself before he frowned, looking at something on the hood of your car. He stepped out and grabbed something from underneath your windshield wiper.

You frowned as he sat back down. “What is it?”

But Jake didn’t answer, mouth set in a thin line and eyes trained on the thing in his grasp.

Leaning over, your heart almost stopped. It was a Polaroid of you and Jake at the engagement party. It was obviously shot through the window, a glare taking up half the photo. But still, anyone who looked at the picture would see you and Jake, his hands on your hips and smiles on your faces.

Did you have fun at the party? He doesn’t look like your type

“Jake, I…” Your throat was scratchy. Arid.

“What does this mean, Punch?”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think! I’d love to hear your theories. Also, as an aside, I do not keep a tag list. I’m sorry!