#maverick lane

[simblrkersil]

Meet Riley! Maverick and Gabby have both been wanting a dog, so Mav adopted Riley, an old english sheepdog puppy who’s stubborn, vocal, and playful.

...which... actually sounds like a rather difficult dog, but the other two I liked the look of were both aggressive, so.

[bobfloydsbabe]

never really cared (until i met you) | jake seresin x oc

a turning tables fic

SUMMARY: While saying goodbye before he leaves on a mission, Jas realizes there may be more to her relationship with Jake than she thought.

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of a dangerous mission, mild fluff. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

TURNING TABLES MASTERLIST

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A/N: It's my birthday (29, yikes), and my gift to you is this fic. It was supposed to be longer, but alas, it is not. Thank you for your support of me and my writing. This is also my very late submission for @roosterforme's rocktober writing challenge where I picked the song Alone by Heart. Enjoy!

She watches Jake sitting on the edge of her bed getting ready to leave not just her house, but the city. Taken away by an aircraft carrier at sea for a mission he might not survive. He’s not allowed to tell her, but she knows. 

The room is dark save for the lamp on the nightstand, soft yellow light bouncing off Jake’s perfectly tan skin, making him appear almost golden. He stands, his shoulder muscles moving fluidly underneath the skin, and they tense as he reaches for his jeans on the floor. He pulls them on and does the button up.

Next, he looks for his t-shirt while Jas sits up in the bed, letting the sheet fall into her lap. She watches him pull the black cotton over his head, and his golden hair looks even more unruly than it did before. The shirt stretches across his chest and fits narrowly around his biceps, and he almost looks like a god. Not that Jas would ever tell him that. She’d never hear the end of it.

His gaze holds hers as he tries to tame his hair, then he places a knee on the mattress, making it dip as he leans in and kisses her. She used to never allow this intimacy. They’d get each other off and he would go, vowing to not speak a word of it. Now she allows him to kiss her because it may be one of the last.

She may not know the details of the mission, but you could cut the tension on base with a knife for weeks. When Floyd and Trace went down, Jake came to her with a distraught look on his face. She’d never seen him like that, and any jabs she’d wanted to make died on her tongue. 

Since then, she’s seen more of him. He stayed the night, and she would let him kiss her in the kitchen in the morning. She even let him come to her office to vent and let him buy her an old-fashioned at The Hard Deck a few times. Now, she’s letting him kiss her before he leaves on a suicide mission.

Jake gets off the bed and pulls on his boots. He reaches for the sheet on his side of the bed to make it, but stops at the look Jas sends him. “Leave it, Seresin.”

He nods, straightening his back again. “I’m gonna head back.”

Jas stands from the bed, contemplates walking him to the door in the nude, but decides against. She grabs clean panties and a t-shirt from the dresser and puts them on while Jake watches her every move.

She follows him to the front door, trailing behind him on bare feet. Uncertainty hangs in the air, rendering them both unusually quiet. Jas doesn’t know what to do with the silence.

Jake pulls the front door open. A light breeze flows through, making Jas shiver in the thin t-shirt she put on. Hugging herself, she runs her palms up and down her arms, trying to stay warm.

Jake turns to face her, expression uncommonly serious. He looks like he wants to say something by the way his mouth hangs slightly ajar, and his eyes search for something in hers. She’s not sure what.

“Doc,” he says, voice clear and bright in the faded glow from the porch light.

She steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kisses him. His mouth moves against hers in slow, languid motions and she revels in his taste. She clings to him, and his strong arms tighten around her waist, keeping her close. Some part of her never wants to let him go, wants him to stay here with her where he’s safe.

But he has orders and a mission to complete, so Jas pulls back, leaning her forehead against his. Their heavy breaths mix and she wonders if he can hear how hard her heart pounds in her chest.

“I gotta go,” he says and untangles himself from Jas, but she senses hesitation in him. He doesn’t want to go anymore than Jas wants him to.

She doesn’t say any of it, though. She simply nods and steps back. You’d think after years in the Navy, she’d be better at goodbyes like this, but she’s not. Something about seeing Jake walk down those front porch steps makes her stomach churn.

He’s halfway down the path to his car parked on the street when she steps onto the porch and calls for him. “Jake.” 

He stops in his tracks. In the rapidly approaching dawn, she can tell he takes a deep breath before turning back around. He walks back toward her, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

He’s quiet, waits for her to do the talking. “Give me your phone,” Jas finally says and walks down the steps, holding her hand out towards him.

A furrow appears between his brows, but he complies, handing it over.

Typing in her number, she saves it under the name Doc, even though she hates when he calls her that. At first. Now she’s grown used to it, and hearing him call her anything else feels wrong.

“Here,” she mutters and hands it back to him. “Text me when you get back.”

He looks down that the phone that now sits in his hand, the furrow between his brows having deepened in confusion. Jas has refused to give him her number for weeks, but now that she’s done it, it looks as if he can’t fathom why.

“Doc, I–”

She cuts him off with a kiss. It’s the only way she knows how to express that letting him leave is one of the hardest things she’s ever done. She doesn’t have the energy to unpack exactly what that says about her situation with Jake.

Breaking the kiss, she plays with the short hair at his nape. “Let me know you’re alive,” she mumbles and pecks his lips again.

His hands rest on her waist, setting her skin on fire, and if he didn’t have to be back on base soon, she’d be ready to go again. It’d be the third time in the past 24 hours, which isn’t their record, but close.

“I gotta go,” he whispers.

She takes a deep breath, allowing the scent of him–leather and jet fuel–to fill her nostrils. She commits it to memory and hopes the pillow on his side of the bed smells like him.

Then she takes a step back and straightens her spine. Composes herself and reminds herself that Jake is just some guy she’s fucking. They’re not serious, and she ignores the hurt that crosses his face for a split second. He’s expecting her to say something, but the words that threaten to pass her lips are stuck in her throat.

He says nothing as he turns around and walks down the path to his car. He doesn’t wave as he drives off towards base, leaving Jas standing at the foot of the porch stairs in just a t-shirt and panties.

She watches him drive into the sunrise and out of her reach.

likes are nice, reblogs and comment are golden

TAGLIST: @blue-aconite, @kmc1989, @callsign-magnolia, @cherrycola27, @thedroneranger, @bluezraven, @desert-fern, @dizzydisaster, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @jessicab1991, @mamachasesmayhem, @hookslove1592, @joaquinwhorres

[reiverreturns]

hey quick question random youtube commenter what movie did you watch because it certainly wasn't top gun maverick

[compacflt]

wip wednesday: picking at it slowly but surely

[orchidvk]

I actually don't like to promote my stuff or anything but I just wanted to share this series I have going on with you!

I already uploaded part 9 today so if you are interested just take a look and decide if you like it!

Have an awesome day <3

I uploaded the link for the FF here

This is much more comfortable for you! <3

[joaquinwhorres]

Philia ft. Caro Alvarez & Jas Lane

Jas climbed onto the bed, arms already wide open, and Caro crawled into them, hugging her friend tight. A sob shuddered through her body, only a small choked noise escaping, but it was enough for Jas to pull her even closer and lay her head on top of Caro's. "I knew I should have brought ice cream," she murmured. A broken laugh escaped Caro, and she could feel Jas smile.

from Tailspin part of the Motion Sickness Universe along with @bobfloydsbabe's Turning Tables. Jas is also from Helena's Turning Tables.

The 7 Types of Love for the 7 Days til Valentine’s ft. My OCs (2/7)

Tag List: @veetlegeuse @bobfloydsbabe @natrace @rae-gar-targaryen @hairringtonsteve @chrissymunson

[warnersister]

Stay in your lane

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Inspired by the song ‘Stay In Your Lane’ by Bronson Diamond and Greta Stanley

Summary: Jake finally realises it’s time to settle down when this mission could become fatal, especially when he sets eyes on the woman he knows is destined to be his future wife - but with his ‘Hangman womaniser’ reputation floating around Top Gun, it won’t be that easy.

Jake had seen you at the bar for a few weekends running now. And each weekend he had drunk enough Dutch courage yet never actually managed to speak to you. He’d first seen you the evening he was first reinstated at Top Gun for the uranium-plant ‘suicide mission’ and with this evening being the penultimate one before Maverick would construct his final flight crew; he’d decided now was a better time than ever. He’d die a happy man knowing he’d at least taken the jump with you.

He was enamoured; whipped the moment he’d first laid eyes on you. The moment all his ‘fuck-boy’ antics and aspirations melted before him and some homeliness grew. He’d always been teased for his charming bed-side manner: before sneaking out the morning after, not forgetting to delete his number from the poor girl’s phone then dashing out the door with another mark to his name and a victorious smirk on his lips.

But recently he’d been sick of the reputation he’d grown to be so proud of, almost embarrassed by his own name and face - he wasn’t blind to the two strands of grey hair that appeared behind his left ear, he wasn’t getting any younger. He didn’t want to be the unmarried sailor who had too much fun as a bachelor in his earlier years and never settled down. Jake didn’t like the idea of dying alone.

Especially not now this mission was looming ever closer.

You’d walked into the bar just before Rooster began serenading the piano, when Hangman was teasing the ‘old timer’, soon to be instructor and throwing him out of the bar for being unable to pay for the tab the aviators and civilians had accumulated for him as a consequence of his phone being on the table top. Jake had turned and winked at you when he’d ordered another beer on Maverick, one for you too for which you just rolled your eyes, unimpressed. Needless the say for once that actually bruised Hangman’s indestructible ego. Normally he wouldn’t have batted an eye when being rejected by a girl at a bar; simply moving onto his next endeavour to take some gullible girl home by the end of the night.

But you didn’t seem like that kind of girl: you seemed like a lady - a woman. And your rejection wounded him more than any bullet or stab any could.

And now you were here for the third weekend running and he was ready to finally try ask you out, especially before he got too drunk too - already racking up his eighth beer and fifth whiskey, even chancing some of the sailor’s rum sitting in the glass cabinet with all the expensive liquor. “Man, just go.” Javy said, elbowing Hangman deep enough to wind him slightly. “What if she rejects me?” Javy laughed. “Jake ‘womaniser’ Seresin is worried about being rejected?” But his chortle died down when he saw the serious conflicting expression on his fellow aviator’s face. Javy thought for a moment before walking over to Rooster and concocting a plan with him. “Hangman won’t talk to lady?” The sunglasses-clad man laughed. “Funny.” Javy shook his head. “No man I’m serious. Look at him.” They both looked across the bar to the man looking helplessly at the newly familiar girl chatting with Penny with a comfortable grin on her face.

“Damn if Hangman doesn’t want her I’ll have her.” Rooster commented, pulling his sunglasses to the end of his nose to look at you properly and whistling lowly. Javy slapped his chest, having a lightbulb moment “I’ve got it. You go and tell him that.” Rooster raised a brow waiting for him to elaborate. “Go over there, tell him you’re gonna go chat her up and watch how fast he moves.” Rooster smirked, loving the fact he was being offered the opportunity to wind up Hangman. “Next rounds on you.” He told Javy, hitting him on the back as he strutted over to the lovesick man by the pool table.

Rooster mirrored his actions from a few moments prior, eyeing you like a tall glass of water after days stranded in the heat-infested desert. He whistled, gaining Hangman’s attention, forcing him to drag his attention away from you. “Who’s the honey at the bar? She is mighty fine.” Rooster commented, biting his lip slightly. “Found my mission for tonight, wish me lucky.” He patted Hangman’s shoulder, who was getting progressively more aggravated by Rooster’s comments - not even noticing how tight his grip was on his beer before it was slammed on the table and he raced past Rooster. “Back off, porn-tash.” He grumbled and the tanned man smirked, his job was done.

Jake marched straight over to you and leant against the bar beside you, ordering another beer off of Penny and requesting she get you another of whatever you were drinking, turning to smirk at you gently. You looked at him, unimpressed but with a small smile on your lips. “Evening darlin’” Jake nodded at you, trying to make his charms work one last time. “Evening.” You replied, thanking Penny for your new drink, and him too. “Thanks for the drink, but I can pay for myself.” You say, not trusting the khaki uniforms regardless of what the face wearing them told you.

“And I don’t doubt that, allow me to apologise for treating the gorgeous lady at the bar.” He says jokingly, taking a seat beside you. “What’s your name darlin’” you laugh slightly and tell him. “And what’s yours?” You retort. “Jake. But my coworkers call me Hangman.” He told you, trying to woo you with his Naval charm. “Hangman? What, did you lose a game? Not enough consonants?” He laughed at you. Normally now he’d made a joke about him being ‘hung’ in more ways than one but he stopped himself, wanting to impress you/ not seduce you.

He continued to attempt make small talk with you throughout the evening, you hardly entertaining his antics. “Look, Hangman” you say straight, after your third drink, compliment of him of course. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if your goal is to get me in your bed by the end of the night, you’ve got another think coming. You have a reputation around this base and I don’t intend on becoming another one of your one-nighters.” You throw back the rest of your drink. “So thank you for the drinks, but this ends here.” You say, about to stand up before a rough yet gentle touch reached out to keep you sat, prompting a frustrating and challenging look in return.

“I’ve been shot and I’ve been stabbed but I’ve never been so madly in love as I am with you.” He said all of a sudden, causing you to sit right back down in your seat; shock overcoming you. “Excuse me?” You say, almost thinking you hadn’t heard this infamous aviator you’d only known for the past two hours admitting his adoration for you. “Look I that my reputation proceeds me, but seeing you for the first time three weeks ago made me realise somethin’, darlin” he licked his lips in nerves, gathering his thoughts: prepared to admit to you. You cocked your head to one side, almost unable to speak “I know we just met, but if I had to bet I´d say you feel the same way too”

“Cause I’ve realised that when I first looked at you, in that gorgeous dress with that bright smile, self-sufficient and head strong I knew I’d have to drop my ridiculous play-boy persona sometime soon. Especially if I wanna settle down with a mighty-fine gal such as yourself.” He admits, looking down nervously and swallowing - adam’s apple bobbing as you question his intentions and think that he may be more gentle than his reputation had told you.

Suddenly The Righteous Brothers’ infamous song amongst Miramar pilots began playing; You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ and Hangman smirks and an idea develops within his mind. He stands and offers a hand to you “dance with me, please?” You give a small smile, allowing your heart to lead instead of your preemptive mind familiar with his kind and laced your hand in his, standing and smoothing your dress which he found incredible endearing.

He began swaying back and forth, talking so loud you could barely hear the band. As he sung along to the sound, keeping his hands respectively on your hips and eyes never straying away from your own. When the song had finished he necked the rest of his beer, drinkin´so fast you were surprised he could even stand. Even trying to be endearing; making a fool of himself dancing just to hear you laugh, dancin´ like a crab running over the stinkin´ hot sand.

Eventually you both moved to the cracked-open door adjacent to the beach, sitting on the deck as he eyed the hand closest to him, but you were still hesitant - the infamous ‘Hangman’ reputation weighing heavy in your mind. His pinky inching towards your own and you chuckle gently, shaking your head “and I was hopin’-” you cut him off “you were dreamin´ if you thought you were gonna be holdin´ my hand” you inform him.

“Later Hangman!” You both hear and turn to see the rest of the dagger squad making their way out of the bar, Nat winking at you unbeknownst to Jake and you requite her gesture. “Later!” He waves them off. He stands and struts to the bar, taking you with him to jot his details on a napkin “here is my number, call me when you get home” he slides it to you, to which you reverse his action, pushing it back to him “that number ain’t no good to me, ´cus I don’t own a telephone” you shrug, but he knew it was in your jacket pocket.

“Well then,” he scribbles again “here is my address, write to me if you could” he suggests and you shrug “well, I never finished school, my writin´ just ain’t no good” he grits his jaw slightly “the way you carry yourself tells me otherwise, ma’am.” he says and you smirk, leaning closer to whisper in his ear “that’s doctor to you, Jake.” He shivers at the way you say the name he’s been used to hearing since birth. But hearing you say it was so raw: so true. So right.

He raises a brow “Doctor? News to me” “y’never asked.” You say gently. “Final call! Another round or get your asses safely home ladies and gents!” Penny announces in a holler from her position behind the bar, to the final few stragglers at the Hard Deck; including yourself and Jake.

He opens the door for you; winking as you feign flattery and naming him a gentleman, you both thanking Penny for the evening and leaving to your respected vehicles. “Now the bar’s are closin´, and we’re leavin´ at the same time” he comments, entwining your hand with his which you begrudgingly feel absentmindedly closing around his, also. You shake your head and look up to him “So stay in your lane, boy and I’ll stay in mine” you say and his eyes sadden slightly, reaching your car and you lean against it, welcoming him trapping you against the driver’s-side door “Ive been shot and I’ve been stabbed, but I’ve never been so sad knowing I’ll never see you again” he says, pulling your hand up to kiss each knuckle, not allowing himself to disrupt eye-contact; fearing that as quick as you came into his sights, you’d be gone.

You smile, using your free hand to caress his cheek slightly; him leaning into your soft touch. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’m at this bar every damn weekend” you say matter-of-factly, leaning to kiss his cheek before pulling away and climbing into your car. “Goodnight, Hangman.” And you reverse away, a pang in his heart until he felt for his phone in the back pocket of his summer whites, a small strip of paper falling out alongside it. He picks the unknown scribe from the gravel and inspect it - your phone number written in a neat hand and he grins - maybe his bedside manner was improving.

And that mission crept up on the daggers quicker than they’d ever hoped and Hangman found himself antsy in his cockpit, about to take off to go save his instructor and career-long buddy: not that either of them would ever admit their comradeship. He closed his eyes and pictured your tired face that gleamed back at him at the twilight hour he’d last saw you, knowing you were the reason he’d return from this final task - listening to the air traffic control counting down until his take-off.

Before he’d realised, he’d acquired another air-to-air confirmed kill under his belt of a fifth-generation fighter and was headed back to base to celebrate. “Well done aviators, helicopter paramedics Reaper and Sunny are waiting on deck to check you all over.” The voice instructs over comms. “Reaper? Why’d they call ‘em that?” Hangman asks with a chuckle and the voice was dormant for a few seconds. “We usually send her when we think there’s gonna be dead needing reviving.” And soon the callsign wasn’t a joke and they realised the higher-ups were more prepared for this suicide mission than the pilots were.

Hangman climbed out of his aircraft and shook hands with Rooster, all just happy to be safe back on deck after a successful mission. “Lieutenant Seresin!” One of the engineers called “you’ve been instructed to go be checked over by Reaper.” Jake nods and walks through the crowd giving him pats on the back, to the helicopter. “Reaper? I’ve been told to be assessed.” The paramedic pivoted to face him and his facade dropped, as you stood before him in your pilot get-up and medical equipment strung onto your shoulder.

You sighed heavily “thank god you’re okay” you say and he wordlessly approaches you and dips you in a long-awaited kiss “please give me a chance, don’t make me stay in my lane, princess”

“Wouldn’t think of it, cowboy”

[jedi-luca]

Avenger Lane Chapter 12: Wild Uncharted Waters

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention? 

Parings: Quinn Fabray x Reader / eventual Natasha x Reader

Warnings: Reader has a Penis, drug use, attempted abuse

Previous Chapter

“Papa, Halloween tonight?” Finley asked as you sipped your coffee and pushed the cart.

“A few more days bub.” You say lifting up a decoration.

“Mom, can we be Barbie?” Beth asked Quinn as they looked through the costumes.

“No mommy! No Barbie!” Fin huffed. “I wanna be Ariel!”

“I’m surprised she didn’t say Bluey.” You muttered lowly for your wife to hear before turning towards your toddler. “It’s okay, squirt. Quinn, you be Barbie with Beth and I’ll be Prince Eric.” You gesture to the costume. 

“But then who will be Ken?” Beth huffed.

“I’ll be Prince Eric and Prince Ken.” You shrug. “Two birds, one stone.”

“No! We need beach Ken! Moooooom!” Beth whined.

“Well then take a page out of Barbie’s book. Ken is just there; she doesn’t need him to help define her.” You say to your oldest.

“Nice.” Quinn nodded with a grin.

“Fine.” Beth sighed.

“Yayyyy! Ariel!!!!!” Fin shouted in joy.

“Sorry.” Quinn chuckled at a couple looking over with a smile.

“Your girls are so adorable.” The woman smiled before rolling off.

“Can uncle Kurt make ours?” Beth gasped.

“Here, give him a call to see what he says.” You chuckled, handing the phone over. Truthfully you know he’s busy he’s been working on the spring collection to be ahead of the game.

“Hi uncle Kurt!” Beth smiled as she twirled around. “I’m good; you?” She giggled looking over at you and Quinn. “I was wondering if you could make our costumes for Halloween?……Mom and I are going as Barbie and pop and Fin are Prince Eric and Ariel.” 

“Really?! Oh Uncle Kurt I’m so excited! Okay! See you then bye love you!” Beth hung up, handing you the phone. “Oh my gosh uncle Kurt and Blaine are gonna help me and Fin make ours tonight they said you just have to get us there.”

“You got it.” You grinned.

“I’ll drop them off before we get ready for tonight.” Quinn nodded. “Would have been a little better if we took them tomorrow night instead. Since the musical is tomorrow night.”

“Awww aunt Rachel’s having an opening night.” Beth sighed. 

“You can catch it next time.” Quinn smiled.

“Yuck musicals!” Fin stuck her tongue out.

“She got that from you.” Quinn glared at you.

“I didn’t say anything, and besides Beth we’re going to the fair tomorrow.” You chuckled as Quinn glared at you walking towards the halloween bags. You high fived Fin before handing her a puppuccino. You chuckled seeing whip cream all over her tiny face. “Tasty!” She giggled looking up at you. Beth giggled at her sister's mess. You snapped a picture before wiping her face. 

“We’re really going to the fair?” Beth asked.

“Yup! Nat, Nate, and Lila are coming with us.”

“Oh awesome! I can’t wait!” Beth squealed before listing off all the rides she wants to try out now, finally being older and tall enough.

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After dropping off the girls the two of you dressed up in your costumes and walked towards Thor’s house.

“Danny, Sandy, welcome!” Thor chuckled letting you and Quinn inside. 

“Zeus huh? Here I thought you’d be Thor the Norse God.” You grinned.

“I thought it was a bit on the nose.” Thor nodded before leading you both to the party.

Tony and Pepper were mobsters who were talking to Steve and Bucky as Maverick and Goose. When you caught sight of a certain redhead.

You gulped looking at Natasha who donned a catsuit that was clad against her curvy body. 

“Out to fight crime?” You rasped.

“Too many greasers on this street.” She winked.

You chuckled letting your hand run through your hair. “I feel a little ridiculous. I wanted to be a firefighter.” You shrugged.

“Don’t it’s…” Natasha gulped. “It’s working.” You looked so unbelievably dreamy to her she didn’t think that was possible. She already finds you charming and now with the clad white t shirt and leather jacket. Not to mention your ass looks great in those black jeans, and if she looks a little longer she can make out your package. 

“I still think the firefighter would have been cooler.” You shrugged.

“Oh my gosh enough about the firefighter!” Quinn rolled her eyes as she walked up.

Natasha chuckled as Bruce walked up.

“Hey Bruce.” You grinned. “Nice Batman costume.”

“Thanks! You know it’s basically the one from the movies you can punch it and I won’t feel a thing. Come on, try it.”

“I shouldn’t.” God, I wanna punch you in the face. You shook your head.

“Come on grease lightning show me whatchu got.” He taunted.

“Bruce.” Natasha warned him.

“What? How bad can it-“ suddenly he felt you strike him in the stomach and lost his breath. “Oh my God.” He gasped.

“Great form Y/L/N!” Steve clapped.

“Y/N!” Quinn growled, yanking you away.

“What? He told me too!” You huffed.

“This is supposed to be the real thing! What happened?” Bruce gasped.

“You asked someone who boxes to punch you. What did you think was going to happen?” Natasha rolled her eyes leaving Bruce to grab a drink.

“Wait, boxes?” His eyes widened.

Bucky rolled his eyes at Quinn who glared at Steve. “Okay you need to tell Y/N what you saw.”

“I know.” Steve sighed.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” Bucky hissed.

“Because I wanted to deal with our situation first. I’m glad I did. I want Y/N to believe me.” Steve explained.

“Well you need to let them know soon they deserve to know.”

“I know Buck.” Steve sighed.

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“Y/N!” You turned looking for who called out your name.

“Pssst Y/N!” 

You huffed feeling a candy corn hit your head. Looking over at the culprit it was none other than Thor himself. 

He didn’t speak but he did gesture to having a smoke or in other words ‘cheifin’, ‘sesh’, or ‘420’.

You looked back at your wife. “Go on, I'm gonna catch up with Christine Strange.”

You grinned as he waved you over away from the party towards the backyard.

“What’s up Danny Zuko!” Val smirked, already sitting on a patio chair.

“What’s up.” You chuckled as she waved around a blunt. “Ooooh yes please.”

Carol laughed sitting next to her wife.

“What’s up Quill, Gamora!” You grinned giving them a side hug. “What are you guys?”

“Oh I’m Jason!” Peter quickly placed his mask on.

“Freddy Krueger.” She said, lifting up her knife hand.

“Spooky.” You chuckled. “And you two?” You nod towards Carol and Val.

“I’m the moth, she's the flame.” Carol smirked, leaning over to peck Val’s cheek.

“Hey Y/N! I got us all drinks that blend well with the blunt.” Korg grinned while walking outside.

“Hey Korg, long time no see! I haven’t seen you at the gym lately.” You smiled while taking the Halloween themed drink.

“I just got married actually.” He smiled.

“Congratulations man!” You smiled.

“Thanks!” Korg blushed.

“So where is the lucky lady?”

“She’s at work right now but she helped me make the couples game tonight!”

“Couples game?” You asked as the rotation made its way to you. You took it gladly before inhaling.

“Yeah! It’s like a game show for couples.” Korg nodded as you handed it to him.

“Cool.” You said before exhaling.

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Natasha looked around wondering where you went off too. She hasn’t you since you punched Bruce. All she sees is Quinn talking to Christine as Stephen looks bored.

“Looking for a certain greaser?” 

Natasha looked over at Wanda. “Maybe.” 

“I think I saw Y/N go out back.” Vis pointed.

“Thanks… great costumes by the way. What superhero are you guys supposed to be?”

“Whatever we had to make.” Vision shrugged.

“Gotcha.” Nat nodded before going out back.

“Damn it, Vis.” Wanda whined.

“What?”

“You told her where Y/N is.”

“And?”

“Y/N is married and she-“ Wanda looked around before harshly whispering. “She has feelings for Y/N.”

Vis sighed. “Honey if she does you can’t stop it. No one can. The heart will always want what it wants.”

“Still.” Wanda grumbled. “I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

Meanwhile back outside.

“Nat hi!” You smiled with a dopey grin on your face.

“Hey Stoney Bologna.” She smiled walking over.

“Hey Nat.” Everyone coughed.

She looked around for a seat.

“Here take mine.” You cleared your throat standing up.

“Oh no you don’t have to do that.” She says, shaking her head.

“Please I-“

“Just sit on Danny’s lap!” Carol smirked.

“You’re so bad.” Val muttered in her ear watching you bring Natasha on your lap.

“Oh baby I can be really bad.” Carol husked back.

“Fuck.” Val chuckled darkly, feeling her cock harden.

“Hi.” Nat shuttered.

“Hey. Are you cold?”

“A bit.”

You quickly shrugged your jacket off bringing it around her and you like a blanket. She felt your arms snake around her and laid her arms over yours.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“Anytime.” You grinned. “Wanna try my drink? Korg made it. It’s really good.”

“Sure.” The redhead moved towards the table causing you to gulp seeing her back side as she stretched for the drink

Val smirked at you checking Natasha out. “How ya doing over there Y/L/N?”

“Good.” You grunted as the redheaded Russian moved again this time bringing the drink with her.

Val and Carol giggled as the blunt came to you both.

“Let’s play suck and blow.” Val smirked.

“What’s that?” Nat asked.

“Well you inhale and exhale in Y/N's mouth then Y/N will do it in Carols.” Val smirked.

“Nat, you don’t have too.” You say before making a face at Val.

“I can do it.” The red head inhaled before turning towards you.

You leaned in parting your lips as she blew smoke into your mouth, her lips ghosting over yours. You inhaled her eyes looking at your lips. You broke the trance turning towards Carol. Exhaling in the same manner. She doesn’t know why but seeing you so close to Carol sort of made her jealous. 

You pulled back, noticing a change in the atmosphere.

“You okay?” You whispered near her ear. “Do you need water or anything?”

She shook her head.

One of your arms dropped from her waist resting on her knee. You gave her a light squeeze.

“You sure?”

She smiled softly before relaxing in your arms. “I think I’m just high.” 

You chuckled about to move your hand when she placed hers over yours. She squeezed your hand feeling your thumb gently rubbing against her knee.

“So I’m not dumb they’re clearly into one another.” Korg whispered to Thor watching Nat giggle at whatever you said. 

“Hmhm.” He nodded, texting his wife to make sure Quinn didn't come outside. 

It’s not that they want them to cheat, they just want them to realize they can do so much better. It all started back when Tony had his block party. Slowly the gang all realized Quinn and Bruce were awful and did not deserve you or Natasha.

“Can you imagine them fucking? My God the steam that would come off of them.” Carol smirked looking at you and Nat.

“Fuck that’s hot stop making me hard.” Val muttered while taking a drink.

“Wanna go take care of it?” Carol smirked.

“Uh we’ll meet you guys inside.” Val spoke abruptly standing up with Carol.

“They're gonna do it in the restroom.” You chuckled.

“How do you know?” Nat chuckled.

“I just know.”

“Alright guys we’re going inside so we can get ready for the game.” Korg smiled before walking back inside.

“I guess we should go too?”

Natasha stood giving you a perfect view of her plump latex covered ass in your face. She turned smirking down at you, clearly catching you checking her out.

“Thanks for keeping me warm.”

“Anytime.” You grinned standing up taking your jacket back shrugging it on. Watching her walk towards the sliding door giving her ass an extra sway. She looked so sexy in that suit now all you could think about was taking it off of her. You were incredibly blue balled and needed release as soon as possible.

You both walk back inside and she gets pulled away by Wanda so you walk over to your wife holding her from behind to show her how hard you are.

“Oh my gosh.” She says turning in your arms.

“Quickie in the bathroom?”

She blushes and nods before turning to Christine. “Excuse us.”

As soon as the door closes you kiss your wife before twirling her against the sink. You unbutton her skin tight pants, pulling them down just a bit before pulling your jeans down. You rub your throbbing member against her slit. It's been a while since you both have done this.

You gather enough wetness before pushing inside of her. You moan hands on her hips as she grips the sink and the wall.

“Fuck!” You grunt, thrusting harder and harder.

She lets go of the sink reaching down below to rub her clit. “Fuck I’m close.” 

“Let go.” You grunt wrapping your arms around her as she moves back against you cuming around your cock. “That’s it. Fuck I’m gonna cum too.” You close your eyes imagining Natasha with her catsuit. A few short hard thrusts and you finally came and you came hard.

You pant trying to catch your breath feeling yourself deflate. Quinn pushes you back a bit as you slip out. She turned to sit on the toilet as you stuff yourself back in your jeans leaning your back against the wall as you catch your breath.

Quinn watched you through the mirror as she washed her hands. She briefly wonders why you were so hard and practically begged her silently for sex. She saw what Natasha was wearing but she didn't push it. Things have been tense like walking on thin ice that’s already cracking under her feet. She can feel her grasp on you is loosening. She's terrified of losing you completely.

“Ready?” You asked.

She turned and kissed you softly. “I am now.”

You cleared your throat as she fixed your hair and opened the door.

Natasha felt a little sad watching you walk in hand with your wife. She knows you two must have done the deed in the restroom. Vis mentioned hearing two people going at it earlier. She reminds herself that you’re married, and as much as she doesn’t like Quinn. It doesn’t change anything.

“Okay everyone my good friend Korg here is leading the couples game! Everyone take a seat please!” Thor gave a dopey smile, his arm around his wife Jane. He was a little tipsy and a bit high.

“Alllllllright welcome to Love on Avenger Lane! Where I, your host, will be quizzing you on how well you know your partner.” Korg beamed as his friend Meek handed out whiteboards, markers, and erasers. 

“We’ll start off with an easy one! First question: what is your boo’s favorite color?”

“Alright let’s have it!” Krog grinned as everyone turned their boards. 

“What? I hate that color.” Bucky huffed when Steve looked at his board. 

“We got our first wrong answer already!”

“But I thought you liked black.” Steve frowned.

“Ohh Steve said black, Bucky your favorite is?”

“Red.” He said..

“But you always wear black!” Steve threw his hands up.

“Black isn’t a color Steve!”

“And Buck Steve’s favorite is?” Korg moved along.

“Blue.” He muttered.

Steve felt guilty as that was his favorite color.

“Ohhh Bucky got it right. Tony? Pepper?”

The older couple smiled as they revealed their correct answers.

“We win.” Tony high-fived his wife.

“Psh we haven’t even gone yet.” Thor huffed.

“Alright let’s see it then?” Korg grinned.

Jane and Thor showed their boards both revealing Blue. 

“Nice!” They grinned.

“Y/N? Quinn?”

You and Quinn revealed your answers.

“Nice.” You grinned pecking your wife’s cheek.

“Nat, Bruce?”

Natasha sighed holding up her answer knowing he was going to get it wrong, but to her surprise he was correct.

“You got it.” She smiled softly.

“Like your eyes.” He shrugged.

You cleared your throat not meaning to ruin the moment, but subconsciously doing it out of jealousy. You don’t know why but Bruce was like nails on a chalkboard for you. You haven’t felt this way about a person since Rachel Berry.

“What is their favorite song?” Korg grinned.

Bruce cringed, holding up his answer.  

“Anything from Sia.” Yeah no that doesn’t fly it’s not who is their favorite artist it’s what is their favorite song. Natasha?”

“I fold.” She chuckled with a shrug.

“I’m not big on music.” Bruce shrugged.

“Easy, it's American Pie.” you grinned.

Natasha smiled, you remembered the story about her family and that song. You didn’t even notice the look of disdain your wife was making.

“Uhhh right okay Y/N? Quinn?” Korg stuttered.

Quinn grinned writing hers but when you held your boards up your smile fell.

“What? It's always been ‘Signs by bloc party” Quinn furrowed her brow.

“It's Golden Brown by The Stranglers.” Natasha looks up not realizing she spoke out loud.

“Oof this is awkward.” Korg chuckled into the mic, noticing the look on Quinn’s face. “Tony? Pepper?”

“Shoot to Thrill and Cruisin’ Correct again!

You zoned out as the others went on until the next question came up.

“Alright, what is your partner's favorite morning drink?”

You once again got Quinn’s right and she once again answered wrong.

“But you always start your morning with a protein smoothie.” she huffed.

“A cup of coffee with Silk creamer, especially the coconut.” Natasha winked at you.

Quinn was fuming how can she get your favorite drink but not her own husbands?

“Nat and Bruce?” Korg moved along.

“Coffee black.” they both answered.

Korga mimicked a buzzer sound.

“Breakfast tea.” Bruce smiled.

“Hot mocha with a sprinkle of cinnamon.” You muttered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Quinn furrows her brows at you. She didn’t like that you knew so much about the redhead. She wanted you to be focused solely on her.

“So it’s clear the two of you should be together.” Korg joked not realizing both parties were wildly uncomfortable. “Should not have said that…Moving on! Favorite movie!”

The couples began writing out their answers. Each couple was getting them right until once again Natasha and Bruce were up. They both answered wrong.

“It’s James Bond’s Moonraker.” You grinned.

Quinn bristled, writing hers down. 

“Okay; Y/N? Quinn?”

“Star Wars episode 6.” Quinn smiled in triumph; she knows this has to be it. She’s certain as she held up her board.

“It’s The Heat.” Natasha chuckled.

“I think I know my-“

“She’s right.” You mutter before holding yours up.

“Funny Girl, the Rachel Berry version. Yeah bud, that's not a movie.” Korg chuckled.

“Fine. Frozen.”

“Why would you say that?” Quinn hissed.

“You got a thing for Berry.” You rolled your eyes.

“That’s thick considering you and Jolene over there have been getting your answers right all night.”

“Did she just call me Jolene?” Natasha chuckled to Bruce who cringed.

“At least she knows me.” You mutter.

“Uhh so things are getting a little heated let’s just say the winner of the night is Tony and Pepper. Congrats you won a bottle of champagne.”

“I want to go home. Now.” Quinn grit in your ear.

“That’s probably best.” You nodded still pissed off.

You both stood and you waved at Thor. “Thanks for the invite man, sorry shit got awkward.” You sighed as Quinn slammed the door.

“Aw come on you can’t leave yet! I was gonna ask if you could play a few songs?”

“Yeah let’s jam out!” Carol shouted.

“Maybe next time guys.” You shake your head. “Thanks again Thor.” You walk towards the front door seeing Natasha nearby. “I’m sorry about that, Nat, have a goodnight.”

“You have to stop apologizing for her.” Nat sighs and you just nod.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.” you say before walking out the door.

The walk home was silent. She was so far ahead of you which would normally make you upset but tonight you really just don’t care anymore.

You walk in the house locking it behind you before heading up stairs grabbing your shorts.

“So we’re not talking about it?” Quinn huffed as you stood by the bedroom door.

“Nope.” You answer, she scoffs in response as you walk off towards the guest room. You didn’t know what to do anymore. You were at a loss. It just didn’t feel like your marriage was working anymore. You squeeze your eyes shut, too tired to even pull that thread.

The following morning was silent. You did your normal routine breakfast, protein smoothie, and working out. You really needed it this morning. You gotta clear your head.

You and Quinn do your very best to avoid one another. Things were boiling and the cover of the pot was rattling off. You got the girls back from Kurt’s and by the time you got home she was gone.

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You were actually looking forward to the fair. Normally you didn’t care for them. Everything was dirty and sticky. The food was outrageously overpriced as are the rides, but being able to go with your girls and Natasha makes it all worth it.

You knock on her door as Fin rings the bell.

“Natttttty!” Fin giggled ringing the bell. “Natttttttyyyyy Fair!”

“I’m here, I'm here!”

“Hi Natty, I missed you.” Your daughter giggled.

“Hi sweetheart I missed you too. Hi Beth, have you been practicing?”

“Everyday!” She beams.

“That’s great dorogoy!” Natasha smiled before turning towards you. “I’m just going to get the kids.”

“Alright we’ll meet you at Clints.” You say walking towards your truck. You buckle Fin in her seat with Beth next to her.

You drive down across the street towards the Bartons when Natasha is walking out with Nate in her arms, the car seat in the other.

You hop out and fix up his car seat next to Fin’s as Beth and Lila go over the rides.

“No Cooper?” You ask Nat.

“He has a date tonight. I swear he’s growing up too fast.” Natasha whines.

“Yeah they do that alright.” You mutter looking in the rear view mirror at your girls.

“How has everything been?” She asks hesitantly.

“Not good.” You mutter.

“Well hopefully some overpriced food and funnel cake will take your mind off of everything for a bit.”

“I do love funnel cakes.” You chuckle.

“I know.” Natasha smiles.

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“Ooohh aunty Nat a Ferris wheel!” Lila beamed pointing at the lights.

“You two join the kids. Kate and I will grab some food with Mini Y/N.” Yelena smiled, nuzzling her nose against Fin’s cheek.

“Thank you.” You chuckled walking with Nat and the kids to the ferris wheel.

“I’m sorry if my sister is being bit much-“

“I love her, she's hilarious. This is the most I’ve laughed all week. Also you may have a competition now with Lena over Finley.”

“Finny and Nate are mine, she needs to back off.” She huffed making you laugh. 

The kids sit down when it’s yours and Natasha’s turn.

“I just want to say you two have the most beautiful family.” The carney smiled.

You clear your throat. “Thank you.”

“That’s the third time tonight.” Nat chuckled while sitting down.

“Well we can’t blame them, we are all incredibly good looking.” You give her the goofiest model face you can muster making her laugh. The Ferris wheel begins to move and Natasha out of habit takes your hand.

“You scared?” You ask.

“A bit.” She nods looking down.

“Don’t look down, focus on the music.”

“Are they playing Careless Whisper?” Natasha snickered as the ride slowly began going.

You chuckled, taking her finger and began singing.

“Tonight the music seems so loud

I wish that we could lose this crowd

Maybe it's better this way

We'd hurt each other with the things we'd want to say

We could have been so good together

We could have lived this dance forever

But now, who's gonna dance with me?”

Natasha giggled and you stretched your arm around her as you looked down at your daughter Beth making sure she’s okay. She was laughing with Lila. 

The Ferris wheel is playing romance music and you both can’t help but chuckle at the cheesy songs they play. That is until it’s your turn at the top. One of your favorite old songs began playing. It was Sing by Travis.

“I love this song.” You whispered.

“Sing it to me.” Natasha whispered back.

“Baby, you've been going so crazy 

Lately, nothing seems to be going right 

So low, why'd you have to get so low?

You're so…

You've been waiting in the sun too long”

“You have a really beautiful voice Y/N.”

“You do too ya know.” You give her lopsided grin.

Natasha blushes and looks up at the giant moon. “The moon is beautiful.” She says blissfully looking at the giant glowing moon.

“Yeah.” You briefly look but you can’t help but stare at her; entranced in a way by the glistening twinkle in her eyes.

She turns, feeling your gaze on her and she’s giving you that look. You’ve seen this look before. The ‘If you don't kiss me right now I might die’ look. It happened on the night of your birthday. You’ve seen it on your wife obviously, but you’ve also seen that same look on Sersi’s face, and a few other women. You never really had that feeling for them, but here now with Nat you’re questioning everything for the second time in your marriage. 

You look down at those very kissable lips. Subconsciously briefly licking your own lips before dragging your eyes up to her striking emerald eyes instead of the hazel you’re used to. Meanwhile she’s doing the same thing, both of you leaning towards one another when the song ended the Farris wheel continued its descent. You clear your throat as you break eye contact and look away.

The ferris wheel came to a stop when you both got out.

“That was boring.” Beth sighed, you wouldn’t know this for a while but Beth saw how close you and Nat were.

“How about that roller coaster over there!?” Lila beamed.

“Yeah! Can we!?” Beth asked.

“Sure.” You say lifting up Finley while Natasha takes Nate from Kate.

“We’ll take the kids.” Yelena grins, leaving you and Natasha to the fried feast. 

There’s a heavy silence in the air as you both eat.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you.” She sighs.

“Okay?” You furrow your brows.

“Well hey neighbors!” Tony chuckled while sitting down. “Thanks for the invite by the way.”

Natasha inwardly sighed of course he would get in the way.

“Sorry Tony.” You chuckled. 

“Because of this I’m taking some cotton candy.” He winked.

“Where’s Morgan?” You asked.

“I left her with Yelena and Kate.”

“Oh nice.” You chuckled and excused yourself to the restroom. “I’ll be right back.” 

Natasha waits for you to be out of ear shot.

“You idiot you just had to interrupt!”

“What?!” Tony huffed.

“I was literally about to tell Y/N everything!”

“Ohhh.” Tony bit his lip. “I can scram.”

“No, it's too late.”

“I’m glad blondie isn’t here. She’d suck all the fun out of this place. Can you believe her attitude last night?”

“I didn’t care for her Jolene comment.” Natasha grumbled taking a sip of her lemonade.

You walked up taking a seat eating your corn dog as the girls walked up.

“Papa! I want some too!” Fin whined.

“Don’t worry, love, you can have one too.” Yelena smiled.

“That was so much fun!” Beth said, taking a seat and eating her chicken tenders.

“Kate, are you feeling okay?” Yelena chuckled.

“Everything is spinning.” She groaned.

“Can’t take the heat anymore?” Tony smirked

“Excuse me.” Kate gagged before running towards a trash can.

“I’ll go take care of her.” Yelena sighed, handing you Fin. 

“Nooo Lennnna.” Fin whined.

“I’ll be back, lovebug.” She smiled, booping her nose.

“I feel betrayed.” Nat frowned.

“Hi Natty.” Fin smiled offering some of her corn dog.

“Thank you, Finny.” Natasha took a fake bite humming in response.

“Tasty.” Finley beamed before taking another bite.

“Aunty Natty!” Nate whined wanting her attention back.

“I’m right here handsome.” She chuckled, bouncing him on her leg as a reminder before feeding him a chicken tender.  

Tony looked over at you watching the way you looked at the redhead. He knows that look, it can’t be described by anything else but love.

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After another round of rides and too much funnel cake Beth asked to spend the night with Morgan and Lila. Yelena and Kate went back to school so it was just you the tots, and Natasha.

“Well thanks for coming with us tonight. Looks like they’re conked out.” Natasha smiled looking behind to see the two toddlers sound asleep in their car seats.

“Hmm.” You smile.

“Wanna come inside for a bit?”

You nod and you grab Nate’s car seat and Natasha takes Fin in her arms. It all felt so domestic seeing her holding your little girl, and you holding Nate.

You both lay then down on her sofa covering them up before walking into the kitchen. Natasha starts the kettle pulling down the tea box.

“Blackberry sage, my favorite.” You smiled softly.

“It’s now my favorite too. It's so good.” Natasha smiled, pulling down the honey and peeling an orange.

“Thank you, Nat.”

“So you wanna talk about it?”

“I have never wanted to be away from her in my life, and lately?” You sighed, rubbing your head as the kettle began boiling. “I just feel like I’m the only one trying anymore, and I’m so tired of it.” 

Natasha nodded in understanding before turning off the kettle and fixing your cup. She briefly wondered if she should tell you the truth but considering Quinn is at Rachel’s musical right now she decides it’s still not the time.

“You know what, no I don’t wanna talk about Quinn. What about you?”

“Well…” Natasha brings the cups over sitting down across from you. “I took your advice, or Hilary Duff’s and spoke with Thor and Val.”

“You did?” You beamed.

“Hmhm, I get my studio this week.” She smiled coyly.

“Nat, that is fantastic! I'm so happy for you. If you need help with anything I’m here for you.” You smile and she bashfully says thank you.

You both drink tea and talk about her plans for the next hour when you yawn.

“I should probably head home. I'm pretty tired.” You stretch standing up.

She nods and takes both our mug placing them in the sink before watching you lift Fin. She whines briefly before you whisper to her, calming her down. “Goodnight Nat.” You smile.

“Goodnight Y/N.” She whispers opening the door for you.

“Natty.” Fin whispers in her sleep. 

“Shhh its okay.” The Russian whispers kissing her cheek when you bring her in a hug carful not to crush or wake Fin.

“Thank you, for everything.” You whisper gently, kissing her cheek.

She nods and kisses your cheek in response. You both sigh hearing Fin babbling in her sleep. You squeeze her hand before making your way back home. She stays on her porch watching you walk inside your home before shutting the door. She was falling so hard for you with no end in sight.

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You made your way downstairs seeing a redhead at the stove. She was setting a tray of what looked like cupcakes down. 

“Hi.” You furrowed your brows with a smile.

“Hi.” She smiled back dipping her finger in batter before sticking it out for you to try. “Come on, try it. I know you want to.” She smirked turning toward you when you noticed she was wearing nothing but an apron. “Come on baby, take it.” She murmured now flush against you her finger found its way into your mouth. 

“Hmm.” You hummed as she took her finger back, replacing it with her lips. “Natasha.” You sighed against her lips feeling her hand rubbing your cock.

“Don’t you wanna taste me?”

Your eyes fluttered hearing her voice near your ear. 

“You’re drooling Y/N.” 

You reached up, wiping your mouth.

“Take me Y/N. Take me and make me yours.” She husked before you lifted her up against you kissing her passionately before setting her down on the island.

You pull at her apron, shoving your pants down making your cock spring to life. 

“Get inside of me I can take it.” She husks.

You groan feeling her wet cunt.

“Ohhhhh fuck!” She moaned as you pushed yourself through.

You groaned feeling your staff twitch inside of her. You lifted her legs on your shoulder pushing yourself deeper. 

“Ohhhh Y/N! Oh daddy that feels so good! You’re so deep inside of me!” Her guttural moans were nearly pornographic. You lean in, taking her lips against yours. “Harder!”

You grunted, speeding up the pace as you thrusted harder and harder. 

“Oh daddy right there! You’re so much better than Bruce he doesn’t even compare to you daddy, not even close.”

Her moans turned into wails. You could feel her twitch around you.

“Cum inside of me daddy I wanna feel you explode inside of me!”

You woke up with a gasp. You looked over seeing your wife asleep before noticing the time. It was 4 in the morning and you just came inside your boxers. “Fuck.” You whispered before quietly getting out of bed. You sighed, taking off the sticky shorts before cleaning up. It’s been a long time since you had a wet dream, but it was the absolute best fucking vivid sex dream you’ve ever had. 

You furrowed your brows seeing her phone light up. You creeped on her side of the room peeking at her phone.

‘Appointment for tubal ligation reversal’

You gasped she had her tubes tied this whole time. She was clearly lying about being pregnant. I fucking knew it! You inwardly screamed.

You seriously don’t even know where to start with her. She’s a liar and a big one. Now you’re really wondering if it was her that stole your dream away. You look down at her sleeping peacefully and for the very first time ever you wanted to deck your wife in the face. You wouldn’t of course but still the anger and betrayal was beaming at the edges.

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The following morning Quinn woke up and you weren’t there. She figured maybe you were still upset with her and when you noticed her in bed you left. Either way she feels like you’re starting to hate her. She bites her lip feeling like she wants to cry. She can feel herself losing you everyday. It’s like every single move she makes pushes you further and further away. It’s only now that she realizes she has someone that others would kill for. 

She got out of bed grabbing her robe and began searching for you. She went to the guest room and the girls rooms and couldn’t find you. She made her way downstairs noticing your running shoes were gone and Ollie was sitting by the door crying. She sighed that was a bad sign. You only run to clear your head especially when you’re extremely stressed out. She knows because you hate cardio. You're more of a lifting weights person you always have been. Plus you skipped breakfast which means you’re running long distance this morning.

When you do come back home you ignore her completely, only speaking to the girls. When she tried to speak to you all you replied was “I really need my space from you today. Please respect that.” Quinn in shock agrees and walks on eggshells every time she’s near you. She has to hand it to you though you do a great job of hiding it from the girls.

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You were thoroughly warned by Wanda this morning who said that there’s tons of kids who get bussed over here, and that you will need a lot of candy. It ended up working out perfectly. Quinn and Brittany are gonna hand out candy while you and Santana take the girls and Arlo trick or treating. 

Wanda also mentioned that your house wasn’t as spooky as the others and handed you two boxes of old Halloween decorations including a 10 foot tall skeleton. 

You and Santana were fixing up the front of the house when the Latina spoke up.

“Quinn mentioned you two have been fighting a lot lately. That you’re not even speaking to her.”

You sighed she always talks to them about the problems in your marriage. You hate when she drags them in your fights.

“Come on, I won't say anything to her. What happened Y/N I haven’t seen you this upset since she sold your motorcycle.

“I found out she has her tubes tied and lied to me about being pregnant. Really makes me wonder what else she's hiding from me.”

“She lied to you about being pregnant?” Santana said in shock.

“I was offered my dream job and she told me I couldn’t take it because she’s pregnant.”

“What a bitch. I’m sorry, Y/N, I swear I had no idea. What are you going to say to her?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I’m just so upset with her I can’t even look at her.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I wanted to hit her when I found out.” You sighed pausing your motions.

Santana looked taken back.

“You know I wouldn’t but fuck she’s just been so fucking unbearable lately. She embarrassed me at the party the other night. She’s trying to tell me who I can’t hang out with. She’s just so unbearable.”

“I’ll slap her for you, I just need to find the right opening.” Santana cackled.

“Hey can I ask you something?” You say causing Santana’s eyes to soften.

“Of course tonto.” She huffed shoving you back a bit.

“I-I’ve been having sex dreams.”

“Of who me?! Y/N I can’t say I never thought about it, but-“

“What?! No you weirdo you’re like a sister to me. Ugh gross, as if.” You cringed.

“Ass. You should be so lucky. Who is it then?” She rolled her eyes. “I swear if you say B I’m kicking your ass.”

“It’s… it’s Natasha.” You mutter.

Santana’s brows raised as she began smirking. “So Q is on the money you have the hots for your neighbor.”

“What? No, no, Nat is a friend, I just somehow keep-“

“Having hot sexy dreams of her?” Santana taunted you.

“Will you stop it! Ugh, forget I even said anything.” You growled about to walk away when she stopped you. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it. So you’re having sex dreams about Natasha.” Santana shrugged. “She’s hot, it's natural to have those urges towards her.”

“But it just feels so… wrong. She’s a really good friend, and Quinn already has suspicions. I just don’t know how to-“

“How to stop the dreams?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t; they're just sex dreams Y/N, but if you’re feeling more than just lust for her than that’s when you have a problem. Lusting after her, that's ok it’s natural for you to want to be balls deep inside of a woman like her, but it’s when you start having feelings for her that’s the problem.”

You nod when Natasha walks up.

“Hi Y/N, hey Santana, good seeing you again.” Nat smiles.

“Hey Natasha.” She smirks at you.

“What are you two doing?”

“Wanda told me to hang up more decorations.”

“She’s pretty obsessed with this holiday.” She chuckled.

“Halloween is sort of my thing too ya know. The movies, the pumpkins, and corn mazes.” You smirked.

“So Halloween is your favorite Holiday?” Natasha chuckled.

“Hmhm it’s-“ Suddenly Santana sang along with you. “The best day of the year!”

“Nice!” You gasped and high-fived Santana. 

“You know this one used to throw the best ragers around this time.” Santana smirked.

“Oh really?” Natasha smirks looking at you.

You sheepishly shrug.

“Ohhh yeah I remember once the door broke off its hinges. I still don’t know how you fixed it so fast being that drunk, or the time Finn drove his car in your neighbor's pool.” Sanatana chuckled, shaking her head. “Good times.”

“Sounds like you guys were pretty wild.” Natasha smirked.

“Don’t get her started.” You chuckle. “What are your plans for the night?”

“I’m taking Nate and Lila trick or treating while Lena and Kate hand out candy. Clint and Laura always create a haunted house so they’re preoccupied.”

“Oh you should join us.” You smile gesturing to you and Santana.

“Okay sounds great!”

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As soon as you stepped outside with Fin, Santana was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes. “Okay but did you two talk about costumes?” Santana asked, looking between you and Natasha. 

You both looked like you were together as a family. She was clearly Ariel, Lila seemed to be mermaid Barbie, Nate was King Trident, and of course Ollie is Max.

“Nope” You chuckled blushing.

“Natty look!” Finley giggled pointing to hers and Natasha’s costumes.

“Oh you're so cute!” She said taking her in her other arm.

“We’re the same!” Finley giggled. “Under da sea! Under da sea! Papa look!”

“I know.” You chuckled.

“Papa you have to kiss the goirl!” Finley giggled snuggling into Natasha. You blushed and Santana cackled once more.

“Oh my gosh I need photos right now.” Laura squealed as Clint chuckled, covering his mouth to keep from cackling.

Meanwhile inside with Brittany and Quinn

“Are you fucking kidding me.” Quinn growled seeing the whole interaction. “Do you see this shit?” 

“They look good together.”

“Britt what the fuck?”

“Sorry, I thought I said that in my head.” Brittany mumbled looking out the window.

“Ugh!” Quinn stomped her foot.

Back outside

“Well are you ready Princess Ariel?”

“I think you need to ask my father King Trident.” She smirked.

“Ahh yes King Trident of the 7 seas. May you and your family accompany me on this Hallows night?” You bowed offering your hand.

“Oh brother.” Santana huffed as Nate giggled.

“Ignore Bellatrix.” You raised your brow.

“I’m clearly Hermione.”

“If you say so.” You muttered leading Ollie down the sidewalk.

“Beth stay close okay!” You shouted as your daughter and Lila ran off with Morgan and Monica.

Every house you all went to commented on how great you all looked together. The block however clearly had no words knowing you both were married to other people.

Natasha on the other hand was on cloud 9. You were constantly cracking jokes and had a back and forth with Santana that had her face hurting from smiling too much.

“Papa!” 

“Hmm?” 

“Sing Prince Eric's song!”

“Only if I get extra kisses!”

Finley giggled as she kissed your cheeks before saying. “Sing papa sing!”

“What do ya say Ariel?” You raise your brow at Natasha.

She chuckles before clearing her throat before letting out Ariel’s classic singing. “Ahhhhahhhh” Finley playfully joined Natasha in harmonizing. “Ahhhh ahhhhh” 

“All I ever wanted was the open sea and sky. Freedom from the life I always knew. Now all I am is haunted. As days and hours roll by. All I ever think about is you.”

Natasha gulped you were her Prince she always wanted. You were her Prince Eric.

“There you are, over me”

Natasha harmonized again this time Santana joining in as she videoed you singing. Bystanders stopped to do the same

“Taking me with your song! To wild uncharted waters, miles beyond the sea I was darkness-bound, I had almost drowned 'Til you came around, and you found me!”

Santana bit her lip; you and Natasha were looking at one another the same way you used to look at Quinn when you sang to her. She knew you were starting to have feelings for the Russian beauty. She couldn’t even blame you especially with the way Quinn has been lately. Lying to you about being pregnant?! She wants to slap the shit out of her for that she’s gonna keep that in her back pocket.

“Now I am on the shoreline, but I'm still lost at sea! In these wild uncharted waters; Come find me again!”

You were going to end it there, but the crowd around you nodded towards you asking for you to keep going. You looked at Natasha and you began again.

“All I do is wonder who you are and where you'll be. In my mind, your melody goes on. Stronger than the undertow the night you rescued me. Silhouetted by the rising dawn.”

You had chills hearing her harmonizing.

“Ohhhhh, over you I cannot get over you! In wild uncharted waters; Beyond where man can see. When your eyes outshine the horizon line! And you're finally real, here beside me! Now I'm right here on the shoreline I'm right where you left me! And your voice is like A siren that guides me! To wild uncharted waters; alone, just you and me! And I hope you're there in the open air! There's no map or compass to guide me, no! Time may change the shoreline! But time will not change meeeeee! If it takes my life I will finally find you again In uncharted waters Come find me againnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”

The crowd around you cheered and clapped and you jokingly bowed.

You smiled at Natasha and Finley when a little girl pulled your sleeve.

“Oh hello!” You beamed.

“Prince Eric, can I take a picture with you?” The little girl asked bashfully. You looked up at her mother who mouthed ‘please?’.

“Why of course!” You beamed.

“Ariel, will you take one with us?” She asked.

You, Natasha, little King Trident and Finley stood for a line of photos.

“Thank you Prince Eric thank you Princess Ariel.” They would all say.

“Papa, we're popular.” Finley giggled. “Like aunt Rachel.”

“Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!” You gasped.

Santana chuckled as you all began walking back home. “Almost forgot how great your voice is Y/L/N.” 

“You ever miss it?” You ask Santana.

“All the time.” She sighs.

“Me too.” You gave her a side hug. 

When it finally came to an end it took a lot of candy to keep Fin from crying and throwing a fit. She wanted to keep going. 

“Aww dad come on Morgan and Lila are staying too.” Beth groaned when you said no to her staying the night at Monica’s.

“Beth, you just stayed at Morgan’s. Besides, it's a school night.”

“We all go to the same school," Beth huffs.

You ignored that comment determined to stand your ground.

“Please! I’ll pick up after Ollie and feed him and walk him! I’ll even take the trash out!”

“You mean your chores?” You gasped chuckling as she stomped her foot.

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be such a dick-tator.” Santana cackled. “Go ahead mi amore.”

“San-“

“It’s Halloween! Be cool!” She huffed and nodded toward your eldest.

“Yayyyy love you Tia!” Beth took off.

“What am I chopped liver?” You huffed.

“Love you!” She shouted before squealing with her friends.

“Papa me and Ollie love you.” She smiled with chocolate on her face.

Natasha chuckled, wiping her face with a wet wipe.

“Thank you Natty, I love you.” Fin smiled at her.

“I love you too, dorogoy.” Natasha smiled.

“Papa, I wan Natty pwease.”

“She’s holding Nate, squirt.”

“You hold Nate I wan, Natty.”

“Ouch.” You chuckled and Natasha handed you a sleepy King Trident.

Nate whined pulling at his fake beard. You gently took it off laying it against your shoulder. The small boy yawned snuggling into your shoulder. You smiled hearing his soft snores as Fin babbled on to Natasha.

Santana walked next to you giving you a look. 

“What’s that look for?” You chuckled and Santana pulled you back a little.

“Y/N, if you’re not happy with Q anymore you can leave her.” She said softly. 

“I uh-“

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m just saying no one would be upset with you. You have to think about your own happiness sometimes. You can’t raise kids if you aren’t happy.” 

You were completely taken back.

“Just think it over.” Santana nudged you and Natasha turned around.

“Papa come on trick or treat!”

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When you finally made it to your lane Fin threw a fit when it was time to take her home. 

“No Papa! Natty!” She cried.

Santana bit her lip as she took her son and Ollie inside your house.

“You’re just sleepy little Ariel.” You whispered, taking her in your arms.

“But don wanna seep.” She cried sleepily.

“When you wake up it’ll be ballet time.” Natasha smiled, kissing her cheek.

“Ballet.” Fin whispered as she began falling asleep on your other shoulder.

“I better take King Trident home.” She smiled, taking him from you. 

“I can't wait to have another one.” You chuckled, handing him to Natasha.

“You want a boy?” She smiled at you as you walked her across the street towards the Barton haunted house.

“Yeah don’t get me wrong I love my girls, but I’ve always wanted a son too.” 

“Well it’ll happen one day. You’re such a great daddy I just know it’ll happen.” Natasha smiled, speaking softly as to not wake the kids.

You briefly wondered if maybe Quinn would have a boy and a small part of you didn’t want another with her. Not after everything, not after the talk with Santana.

You both are greeted by the Barton’s who are closing shop.

“Hey there’s my little King Trident.” Laura smiled taking him from Natasha.

“Thanks again Nat- or should I say Princess Ariel and Prince Eric?” Clint smirked.

You chuckled, shaking his hand before leading Natasha back across the street.

“You looked amazing as Ariel by the way.” You smile.

“Same to you Prince Eric.” She smiled.

“Goodnight Nat.” You say as you both stand in front of her home.

She opted on not kissing your cheek seeing a certain blonde fuming by the window.

“Goodnight Prince Eric.” She smiled softly before making her way in the house.

You make your way inside right when Santana and Brittany are leaving.

“Bye Prince Eric.” Brittany winked.

“Think over what we discussed.” Santana muttered as she hugged you goodnight.

You looked over at Quinn who stood fuming looking at you with a glare. You rolled your eyes and ascended up the stairs. You could give a shit about what she has to say at this point.

You slept in the guest room again that night.

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You were deep in thought going over Santana's words once again. You were inwardly going over what would happen if you were to leave Quinn.

“Y/N the timer went off like 2 minutes ago.” Quinn huffed from her spot next to Beth. She was helping her with her math homework.

You snapped out of your daze turning down the stove top.

“What is up with you today? You’ve been in your head all day.” She asked.

You ignore her fixing up dinner.

“Y/N?”

“Damn it, Quinn, just not now okay! Can you let me finish dinner? Or am I not allowed to do that either???” You huffed with a roll of your eyes.

Quinn glared at you but before she could say anything back Beth broke the silence.

“Dad.” Beth muttered looking out the window.

“Hm?” You asked as you grabbed plates.

“The neighbors are gathering outside with guns  up.” Beth said looking over at you her brows crinkled together. 

You saw Steve grab his rifle.

“Whoa what in the- Stay here.” You say sternly before rushing outside.

“What’s going on?” You asked Steve who now had his gear on with Carol and Bucky. 

“A couple prison escapees were sighted a block away from here.” Steve speaks as he clips his vest. “Carol is heading south, I'm heading north and Buck will go East.”

“Clint said he’d go west.” Bucky spoke up.

“Y/N, do you have a gun?” Carol asked.

“Yes.” You nodded, picturing where you put it.

“Go grab it you never know.” Carol said, adding her magazine.

‘Natasha’ you thought as you ran inside setting the new system Tony and Scott installed.

“The house is now secure.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke out as your house completely locked down.

“What’s going on dad?” Beth asked; seeing you run inside holding your phone to your ear.

“Y/N?” Quinn furrowed her brows looking up from Beth’s homework. She huffed standing up to follow you upstairs.

“Come on pick up.” You growled before taking a peek at Natasha's window. You hung up, you were just going to run to her place.

Quinn made it to the room just in time to see you lift the wooden board in your closet taking out your gun.

“Quinn, go get the girls, and Ollie then lock yourself in the room!” You say loading your gun.

“What the hell is going on? Why do you have that?!”

“There’s been a prison break and they were spotted near our block. I'm gonna go check on Nat.”

“What?! why?!”

“Because I called her 3 times and she’s not picking up.”

“What about us?” She huffed looking at you like you grew a second head.

“Q, you’re in a state of the art home security system that Tony and Scott set up. You and the girls are safe. I’ll be back, I know the code.” You ran out with Quinn and your daughter shouting your name.

“Natasha?” You say again, cupping your hands to see inside the dark house. Nat usually had her blinds open. Seeing a vase fall you call out again. “Natasha?!”

“Y/N!” She managed to yell, throwing her hand up from the floor behind the sofa.

That was all you needed, you backed up before kicking the door in.

Seeing a man holding her down with a knife and the other tying her up.

“Let her go. Now.” You growled, gripping your gun. 

“You’re not gonna shoot me.” One of them laughed. 

“You don’t know me, I don’t know you, but I know her. Really wanna try me now?” You arched your brow looking deep into his eyes.

He gulped, dropping the blade slowly lifting his hands up. “The fuck are you doing? Theres two of us and one of them! Get them!” The other inmate snapped before trying to drag Natasha down the hallway.

“Let me go!” She screamed, kicking and grabbing the wall.

“Let her go or I swear I’ll fucking shoot you!” You shouted.

“What are you doing, get off your ass and get them!” He gruffed trying to pull Nat. “Stop moving you little bitch or I’ll make it hurt!” 

Natasha swept his legs punching him in the throat but he grabbed his knife.

You stopped thinking and shot him in the back.

“Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhh fuck!” He cried out landing with a thud. “I can’t feel anything! You crazy mother fucker you shot me!”

“Nat come here!” She rushed behind you.

The other guy panicked not knowing what to do.

“Get down on the fucking ground!” You shouted.

“Please don’t shoot me, I'm sorry!” He cried getting on the ground with his hands behind his head.

“I should fucking kill you for what you did to her!” You shouted.

“Y/N no!” She pleaded.

“No wait please, I'm sorry!” He cried.

“You’re sorry! You were gonna hurt her and attack me, but you’re sorry? I should just fucking kill you now.”

“Y/N?” Natasha said softly now behind you softly touching your arm.

“They would have hurt you.”

“Y/N, please.” Natasha pleaded. 

“Y/N?” Steve called out.

“What?” You huffed, still pointing the barrel at his head.

“I got it from here.” He said softly. “It’s okay bud you did good.”

You nodded as he cuffed him. You placed the safety on the gun tucking it behind your back.

Natasha tackled you with a hug. 

“Did he? Did they?” Your eyes are wild and brimming with unshed tears at the thought of anyone hurting her. You push her hair back looking her over pushing her hair back she was bleeding.

“No, no.” She shook her head feeling your hands gripping her waist as she places a hand on your chest and the other against you cheek. “I swear detka, just a few scratches, they hit me on the back of the head.”

Searching her eyes for the truth. She kissed your cheek bringing you back in a hug and you kissed her temple. Holding her close against you as you sighed in relief. 

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“You’re lucky your spouse came home when they did.” One of the officers sighed after taking her statement.

“Oh I’m not-“ you cleared your throat. “I’m just the neighbor.”

Natasha’s still silent; you wondered if she heard that or if she’s just in shock.

‘I’m in love with Y/N.’ She thought to herself. ‘Y/N saved me. They’re always there for me. I’ve completely fallen in love with someone in a marriage.’

“Oh excuse me I just saw you holding her and then the rings and well I assumed.” He chuckled.

Soon a car came to a screeching halt behind the police barricade. It was him, it was Bruce. You noticed a brunette getting out of the passenger side.

“Sir I’m gonna have to ask you to get behind the barricade.” The officer who thought you were Natasha’s wife gruffed.

“I’m her husband. I live here!” He shouted.

“Not again Arnold.” You hear him mutter. “Let him through.” He sighed.

“I came as soon as I heard!” He shouted running toward her. The moment he brought her in his arms she snapped out of her state. Shoving him away harshly.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, getting everyone’s attention. She quickly backed away, colliding into you. You wrapped your arms around her feeling her tense.

“Hey, hey easy it’s just me.” You said softly as she turned in your arms. 

“Natasha, it's me, Bruce, your husband.” He spoke softly and tried reaching out again but she buried her face in your neck.

“Y/N!” She cried; everything was hitting her at once. She was trembling in your arms. 

“It’s okay, I know. It’s okay.” You whispered, holding her tightly as she began breaking down. She breathed in harshly before crying again.

An EMT came by speaking softly as she could. “You’re in shock. You’re having a panic attack. Come with me I can help settle you down a bit.” 

The EMT knew the redhead wasn’t listening so she spoke with you. “Can you help bring her to the truck?”

You nodded wordlessly. Slowly scooping her up in your arms. Walking her to the ambulance. “You gotta let go.” You whispered trying to set her down.

She shook her head still shaking. 

Another car came to a screeching halt. Out came a familiar blonde.

“Сестра!” She shouted. “Сестра, Где ты?!”

You raised your hand seeing Natasha’s head pop up at the voice.

She easily evaded the police barricade stopping in front of you both.

“It’s okay, she's fine. They’re sister’s.” Arnie sighed, already knowing the two were sisters.

You felt Natasha let you go and hug her sister.

You looked up seeing your wife standing next to Christine, arms crossed. A look on her face you can’t place.

Knowing Nat was okay you walked away only to have Yelena take your hand. 

“Thank you for being there for her.” Yelena sniffled.

You just gave a small smile and squeezed her hand before walking back towards your wife.

You kissed her still lips before taking her in your arms holding her tight. You waited for her to hold you back, but it never came.

“Qui-“

“Thank you for taking care of her.” Bruce said, taking your hand; interrupting you and Quinn.

“Well maybe if you had been there you could have done it.” You snapped.

“Y/N.” Quinn gasped.

“No!” You whipped your head at your wife before looking at the nerd in front of you. “She could have seriously gotten hurt and where were you? Let me guess holed up with your side piece right?” You laughed gesturing to the brunette behind him. “Couldn't you leave her to take care of your wife?”

“Y/N stop it!” Quinn grit.

Now the entire block was standing behind you.

“Well I was working. I’m actually working on-“

“A breakthrough?” You questioned tilting your head stepping towards him only for him to take a step back colliding into his car. “You’ve been saying that for how long now?”

“Too fucking long!” Carol shouted.

“Tony back me up here.” Bruce chuckled awkwardly.

“No. You need to tell her the truth now.” Tony glares. “You said you were gonna tell her it’s been 2 months.” 

Bruce sighed. 

“Tell me what?” Natasha questions from the ambulance.

“Nothing!” Bruce shouts quickly with a nervous smile.

“Bullshit it’s nothing.” You grabbed him by his blazer shoving him back into the car. “Tell her the truth now!” You yelled. Quinn tried to pry your arm off of him but you shoved her back. “Say it!”

“I’ve been cheating on her with Betty!” He gasped covering his mouth looking over at Betty who merely shrugged.

“Say it to her you idiot.” You gruffed, shoving him towards the redhead.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Quinn snapped, grabbing your arm.

“Him!” You yelled pointing at Bruce who was trying to run away from Yelena.

“That has nothing to do with you.” Quinn huffed.

“Natasha is my friend-“

“Y/N you shoved me.” She quirks her brow. 

You sighed, rubbing your head. “I’m sorry I shoved you, but you weren’t there! You didn’t see those animals on her! They would have hurt her!”

“You’re right I didn’t because I was busy taking care of myself and the girls.” She snapped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snapped.

“You left us! You left your family for our neighbor! How do you not see what’s wrong with that?”

“You’re making it sound like I chose her over you. That’s not what happened. What happened was I acted fast, got you and the girls in lockdown. I told you when I didn't hear from Nat, I knew something was wrong, I can’t just ignore that. I will not!”

There was so much going on Natasha didn’t know what to focus on. She had almost been SA’ed. Her fake husband just admitted to his infidelity. The neighbors were now whispering and worse. You and Quinn were arguing about her. Right in front of everyone.

“Y/N, I am your wife. Me. I am the one who gave birth at 16 because you knocked me up! I’m the one who took the stretch marks and the constant feeding. I’m the one who works.”

“Wow…” you muttered looking away from her, noticing Val and Thor trying to get the rest of the block to leave. “I’m gonna go give my statement then we’ll talk about this in the morning. I can’t even look at you. You’re so fucking selfish.”

With that you walked away leaving a bristled Quinn behind. Quinn looked at Christine who gave her a brief side hug before walking back to her house.

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After your statement; the police and first responders made their leave. You’re not too sure what happened with Bruce but the scientist was nowhere in sight.

Yelena walked up leaving her sister on the porch. “She doesn’t want to stay in her house. Do you mind if we stay with you tonight until we can get the place secured and cleaned up?”

“Of course not. Come on.” You say walking towards the redhead. “Hey gingerbread-“ you feel her fall in your arms. Without another word you scoop her up and walk over to your home. Yelena opens the door and you begin going up the steps towards your guest room. You gently push the door open as Yelena turns the light on. You gently set her on the bed.

“Should I get you two some pajamas?”

“Thank you, Y/N, I brought some clothes so I think we’re good.”

“Don’t go.” Natasha whispered, taking your hand.

“I have to go change and talk to Quinn.” You respond.

“Please stay.” She shook her head holding onto your hand laying back down with Yelena right behind her holding her tight.

“Okay.” You whispered, shoving your pants off revealing your boxers and leaving your shirt on.

You laid down and she curled into you with Yelena curled into her. 

“Y/N I have to tell you something.” She said softly, hearing Yelena already snoring away.

“What’s wrong?”

“...I lied to you… about Bruce.”

“What about him?”

“We’re married but… not really. He married me to make his ex jealous, and I married him for a green card.”

“Oh.” You say with a nod.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I didn't tell you. I should have told you a while back. I don't know why I didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t tell anyone. I guess I just-“

“Hey… it’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Of course to be honest I feel like an idiot now the way I yelled at him in front of everyone-“

“No one knows but you, the Barton’s, and the Maximoffs. I’m sorry, Y/N, I should have told you.”

“Water under the bridge-“

“Might want to hold on to those words because I have something else to tell you a couple things actually.” She muttered. “You might hate me after this.”

“Hey I promise that will not happen. Now what’s wrong?” You ask softly.

“I don’t know how to say this but after tonight I have to. You deserve to know these things. Just promise me you hate. Promise me you won’t stop talking to me.”

“I promise. You can tell me anything.”

“Back on football day Tony told me to tell you something important.”

“Why doesn’t he just tell me?” You furrowed your brow.

“Because he’s too chicken shit.” She huffed sitting up next to you.

“Okay.”

“Y/N, he told me you were accepted into MIT. In fact he said you had a full ride, but that someone turned down your scholarship. He doesn’t know who, but it’s true.”

“Wait… what?” You rubbed your eyes and head unable to process the information. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” She whispered. “I know you really wanted to follow in your fathers footsteps.”

“I was accepted?” you sighed really wanting to cry. Your whole life you just thought you weren’t good enough. You remember seeing the disappointment in your fathers eyes when you told him you were denied. You remember feeling broken hearted. Now you’re racking your brain trying to remember anything that could pinpoint who it was.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You hum still in thought.

“There’s one more thing… Do you remember your birthday night?”

You gulp turning to look at her. Your heart was thumping out of your chest. You settle for a nod afraid of speaking at all at this point.

“When you went back outside Rachel stopped me.”

You furrow your brows and nod asking her to continue.

“Y/N she does like Quinn she outright told me. She wanted me to… Well she wanted me to help her break the two of you apart.”

“That little evil hobbit.” You growled. “I knew it, I knew Rachel is a snake.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” She whispers.

“Don’t be; I’m the idiot.”

“No you’re not. You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing Y/N. Some people are just not good.”

You try to get out of bed.

“Wait where are you going?” she asks, holding your arm.

“I need to take a walk. There's so much going on I can’t-”

“Y/N I am begging you right now please don’t go. Please. I- I need you here with me. I don’t feel safe with out you.”

You nod taking her in your arms when you see tears forming in her eyes. “Shhhh, shh, it's okay go to sleep I’ll be right here with you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” You say softly laying down with her shaking in your arms. You squeeze her tighter, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll be right here.”

Natasha nods and sighs in relief. Relief that the secrets she was holding are finally out. Though her body is still stuck in fight or flight mode you seem to be calming her right down and you have to admit after those truth bombs she was keeping you level headed. Though you didn’t sleep that night it was nice to hear her breathing.

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You got up early; quietly putting your pants back on before stepping out the door. You walked into your shared bedroom grabbing a fresh set of clothes.

“Where have you been?” Quinn asked, sitting up.

“Downstairs.” You lied putting your clothes on.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I was out of line last night. I shouldn’t have been upset with you saving her. She would have been hurt or worse and I was being selfish.” 

You felt taken back hearing her apologize. You didn’t say a word instead opting for a nod.

“I’m going to go and grab us breakfast from that place you love.” The blonde stood pecking your cheek before heading into the bathroom. 

Soon she was out quickly putting on her yoga pants and shirt. “I’ll be back soon.” She smiled before stepping out. You watched her pull out of the driveway when you heard the guest door open.

“Hey.” 

You turned to see Natasha.

“Morning.” You give her a small smile.

“Thank you for everything.” She said softly walking over to hug you.

“Of course.”

“I’m going to Lena’s place for a few days. Tony said his crew is working on my house so that makes me feel better.”

You nodded not wanting to push her to talk about it. 

“Thanks again Y/N, and thank you for saving my sister.” Yelena spoke while walking up next to her sister.

“Of course.” You say again as she brought you in a big hug squeezing you tight before letting go.

“We’re totally going to get some breakfast. Want to join us? We’ll probably just take it to my place.” Yelena smiled.

“Thanks Yelena but Quinn left for breakfast so I’m good maybe next time.”

She nodded before looking over at Natasha. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Thank you, again Y/N.”

“No need to thank me.” You finally say as she hugs you she inhales deeply as you nuzzle her head breathing her in.

She smiles up at you and follows her younger sister out the door.

You yawned finally feeling sleepy as you watched her leave.

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(This part was originally called Talking in Your Sleep by Rogue Wave I highly suggest to play it while reading this next part)

The next few days you were sleepless and all around depressed. You hadn’t been this helpless since Finn passed away. Quinn was being overly nice and waiting on your hand and foot. You couldn’t help but miss your neighbor. You had sex dreams of her every night. You texted her a few times to check in and see how she was doing. You learned she made it back home last night. You even asked her if she wanted you to go over and stay with her, but she insisted she needed to be alone. She needed to overcome her fear. 

Quinn had gotten home late in the morning hours the end of her quarter went off without a hitch and now she has more time to be with you. She jumps in the shower eager to lay with you before you wake up. 

When she finished showering she noticed the tent you were pitching. “Like clockwork.” Quinn smirked a quiet giggle escaping her breath as she uncovered you. She hummed seeing you in nothing but your boxers. You two haven’t had sex since Thor's party and she figured since she’s been a nice and doting wife she can wake you up in the best way possible.

“Nat?” You call out stopping her from opening her door. She turned around and you went up the steps. 

“What’s wrong?” She smiled.

You bring your hands up to caress her cheeks looking into her eyes doing everything you can to convey how worthy she is. “You are the most beautiful, sexiest, most amazing, sweet, kind woman I have ever met. Let me show you how beautiful you are.” With that you brought her in a kiss, one that she eagerly responded back with just as much vigor.

The redhead moaned, feeling your hand on her waist and the other threaded through her tresses.  

Soon you were both stumbling into her house stripping one another as you made your way to the sofa. She sat you down straddling you.

Quinn after warming herself up on your dick she slowly let you enter her. “Fuck Y/N.” She smiled closing her eyes feeling you fill her up.

You felt Natasha lift your member, closing her eyes as she sat down on your cock. “Y/N.” She sighed adjusting to your girth.

“Natasha.” You breathed out seeing her look down at you her nose nuzzling yours before she-

Suddenly you were woken up by water to the face. You gasped sitting up falling out of bed. Looking up to see a raging Quinn holding a large cup of water.

“Quinn what the hell?!” You shouted angrily seeing her place the cup down before quickly changing into jeans and a shirt.

“You’re cheating on me?!”

“What?!” You sputtered. “Where is this coming from?! You just woke me up in a shitty way Quinn!” You shouted thoroughly pissed off.

“Tell me why I’m trying to wake you up in the best way possible and you utter the neighbors fucking name.” She growled shoving her shoes as she started descending down stairs.

“Quinn!” You shouted hearing the front door whip open. 

“Quinn stop!” You yelled running after her drenched in water in nothing but your boxers.

Steve who was mowing his lawn tilted his head seeing your wife pounding on Natasha’s door.

Bless her heart Natasha opened it still seemingly sleepy.

“Quinn? What’s going on?” She rasps.

“You lying little home wrecker!” Quinn towered over her, pointing her finger in her chest.

“Excuse me?” Natasha sputters in disbelief pulling her kimono closer pushing Quinn’s finger away.

“Oh cut the shit Romanoff, I know you want my wife. It doesn’t take a fool to see how desperate you are for her. So how long has it been going on?”

“Quinn!” You shouted running up the stairs. “Quinn stop it! You’re acting like a fucking psychopath!” You growled. 

“No, tell me!” She yelled at both of you.

“I’m so confused. Tell you what? And why are you calling me a homewrecker?”

“Tell me why my partner called out your name while I was fucking them?!”

“Oh my God, oh my God, Oh my God this isn’t happening.” You muttered holding your head.

“Wha… What did you say?” Natasha shakes her head furrowing her brows. Were you thinking of her the way she’s been thinking about you? Did you secretly want her as much as she wants you?

“Okay since you’re too dumb to understand I’ll say it again-“

“Don’t call me dumb Quinn.” Natasha kinked her brow standing her ground.

“Then why are you acting like it?!” 

“I’ve only just woken up to you pounding on my door calling me a homewrecker. I have no idea what you are asking me when you take this tone with me Fabray.”

“It’s Mrs. Y/L/N to you Romanoff.” Quinn said, taking another step up towering over the redhead. “How long have you been fucking Y/N?”

“Y/N and I are friends Quinn. They would never do anything to hurt you like that. You should know that already.”

“Fuck you; telling me to trust Y/N. How can I trust them when they’re calling out your name in our bed?”

It was silent as she looked at you with an unknown expression. 

“Quinn, I was asleep it wasn’t like that-“

“Don’t do that.” She snapped pointing at you. “You think I’m dumb? I’m riding you and you call out another woman’s name? What the fuck else are you two hiding? Are you even in a marriage with Natasha?”

“No, actually we’re getting a divorce.”

“You two have a thing together and I’m fucking sick of it. You’re done. You’re done being around my partner, and my kids. Leave my family alone.” 

Your eyes darkened and you stepped between the two women. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“Is everything okay here?” Steve walked up handing you a robe. 

“Thanks Steve.” You mutter placing it on.

“No, it’s not actually. You cheated on your wife and that energy got on Y/N.”

“I came out Quinn. I think the cheater here is you.” He crossed his arms.

“Wait what?” You furrowed your brow.

“Excuse me?” Quinn raised her brow.

“I was the one that saw you that night at Y/N’s party. I’ve been waiting patiently for you to confess, but I guess I’m gonna have to do it for you because Y/N deserves to know.”

“Steve, what are you talking about?” You furrowed your brows.

“Nothing! He’s obviously crazy.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry to tell you this it should have come from your wife. The night of your birthday I caught Quinn making out with Rachel. Pretty heavily.”

“You cheated on me with Berry?” You asked, furrowing your brows in shock. 

“No!” She huffed. “I would never-“

“Quinn.” Steve glared.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Y/N she’s into you this is why they’re lying!”

Natasha ignored the blonde and continued. “Y/N, Steve, is not a liar. If anything this lines up with what I told you Rachel said to me that night.”

“Oh please, you're lying. Y/N they are lying to you!” Quinn laughed.

“You’re the liar Quinn.” You said eyes brimming with tears. “You lied about being pregnant.” Quinn’s eyes were wide with shock. “Yeah I know you tied your tubes. You lied about Berry, and you fucking stole my chance to go to MIT. I know it was you! I knew you were bitch going into this relationship. I just never thought you would go this low not, with me.”

“Y/N, baby, I swear I didn’t-“ Quinn had tears forming in her eyes. “Okay, I lied about the baby, and I did- I did kiss Rachel, but I didn’t steal your dream away I swear it wasn’t me.” She sobbed, she tried to take your hand and you snatched it away. “I wouldn’t do that to you Y/N!”

“Fuck you!” You shouted. “Quinn, you're a liar and a cheat! I'm done with you! I want you out of the house. I can’t even look at you right now. We’re getting a divorce.”

“No please Y/N! Please don’t do this. I'm begging you to come back with me. We'll talk about it. I promise you we’ll figure this out together! Please!” She sobbed as you shook your head.

Natasha opened her door further letting you and Steve in the house.

“Natasha please that is my wife, my husband, my partner I’m begging you-“

“You’ve done enough.” Natasha snapped slamming the door in Quinn’s face.

“Oh my God.” Quinn inhaled trying not to have a panic attack. She turned to see some of the neighbors outside staring at her.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.” Wanda called out as Quinn walked home. 

Meanwhile inside the Romanoff residence you were having a panic attack.

“It’s okay bud inhale 1, 2, 3, 4 hold 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 exhale 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 repeat.” Steve was used to calming down panic attacks because of Bucky. After losing his arm he suffered from severe PTSD for a long time. “There you go now tell me what’s one thing you can see, smell, hear, and touch?”

“Um the photo of Nat and Yelena when they were kids, I can smell Nat’s home musk, I can hear her grabbing me a cup of water, and I can feel the fluffy carpet beneath my feet.”

“There we go.” Steve smiled, feeling your pulse instantly dropping.

“Did you really see them?” Your voice cracked.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I should have told you sooner I was hoping she would confess.”

Natasha laid a cool hand towel on your forehead handing you a glass of water. “I’m sorry detka.” Natasha whispered, laying her hand on the center of your back. She didn’t know this yet but that hand placement always made you feel better. You leaned into her and began crying feeling her wrap her arms around you, rocking you. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way Y/N.” Steve felt his heart break for you.

You cried a little harder and Natasha turned her head towards him. “I got this Steve if you wanna…”

He nodded, taking the hint. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” He stood feeling terrible as he made his way out the door.

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You woke up a few hours later practically on top of Natasha.

“Hi.” She whispered, pushing your hair back. “How are you feeling?”

You groaned sitting up.

“So my shot at MIT was stolen, she lied to me about being pregnant, a long time frenemy has been trying to break us up, and kissed my wife. Am I missing anything else?” You rubbed your face letting it all really sink in. 

You groaned remembering Quinn embarrassed you about calling out Natasha’s name in bed.

“Y/N.” Natasha sighed you haven’t looked at her.

“Yeah?” You cleared your throat.

“So you had a sex dream about me!” She exclaimed, causing you to groan in embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal I’ve dreamt about you.”

“What?” This caught your attention. Your head almost got whiplash with how fast you turned.

“Oh my God, you’re terrible. Yes Y/N I have had sex dreams about you.”

“Dreams; plural;  as in more than one?”

Natasha, realizing her mistake, rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Yes.”

“Oh.” You say suddenly very aware of your proximity.

“So now will you look me in the eye?”

You slowly met her gaze she dreamt about you fucking her… more than once! Maybe Quinn was right, maybe she is into you and maybe you’re into her too. You’re on unfamiliar ground. You’ve only ever been with Quinn. 

“I’m sorry for being so weird about it. I just- I’ve never dreamt about a friend before.”

“Come on, you need to eat something. I know you love omelets. Want me to make you your favorite?”

You nod in surprise.

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“Okay we’re here- why the hell does your face look like a puffy marshmallow?” Santana grimaced. 

“Quinn what’s wrong?” Brittany furrowed her brows

“I- I fucked up.” Quinn began crying.

“What the hell did you do, Fabray?” 

“I cheated on Y/N.” She sobbed.

Santana sighed, she hates to say she saw this coming, call it her Latin 3rd eye, but she knew something has been off ever since your birthday.

“Quinn!” Brittany gasped.

“What the actual fuck Fabray?!” Santana huffed standing back up so she wouldn't slap the life out of Quinn. “Who, when, where, and how many times?” 

“It was one time and we didn’t even have sex we- we made out.”

“It was with Berry wasn’t it?” Brittany muttered.

Quinn nodded.

“Wow. You’re a dumb bitch for that Fabray. Y/N gave you everything and this is how you repay them?”

“What do I do?” Quinn sobbed.

“Well you’re gonna give Y/N space and if they decide to leave and divorce you then I highly suggest you do it if you have any respect for Y/N.

“I can’t just let Y/N go. I can’t, I love Y/N.” Quinn sniffles.

“You have a really funny way of showing it.” Santana scoffs. You kissed faked a pregnancy, treat them like crap, kissed a troll, and stole Y/N’s chance at MIT.”

“It wasn’t me.” She cried.

“Then who was it?” Santana asked. “Bitch, you’re already fucked might as well be honest now.”

Quinn gulped for uttering the words. “My mother.” 

A/N: like, comment & reblog please I spent a long time on this chapter 🫠

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Planes, Love, & Rock ‘n Roll 🎸🩶| Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic)

📨 = requested works | TGM Main Masterlist

Content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. | Female!reader (she/her)

Series Summary 🩶: The Dagger Squad didn’t know much about their former instructor turned friend, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. Only Rooster had insight on all there was when it came to the famous pilot, and his love life certainly fell into that. When the squad shows up unannounced to Maverick’s San Diego home for his birthday weekend, they are greeted with the shock of the lifetime when it’s revealed Maverick’s lady once ruled the radio of the decade they were born in. And what better way for them to properly meet one of the greatest rockstars to ever exist than by attending the bands reunion concert that night.

Imagines:

It's A Long Way To The Top

The Rockstar, Her Husband, & Their Dagger Ducklings

The Daughter of Rock 'N Roll 📨

The Romantics 📨

Memory Lane 📨

Social Media AU:

Part 1

[simblrkersil]

Gabby is just. Absurdly cute.

[bobfloydsbabe]

checkmate | jake seresin x oc

a turning tables fic

SUMMARY: Jake comes to the infirmary needing stitches after an encounter with Jas' ex-boyfriend.

WARNINGS: incorrect medical stuff (not explicit), blood mention, talk of slut-shaming.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

TURNING TABLES MASTERLIST

JOIN THE TGM TAGLIST (google form–no personal info required)

A/N: I haven't written for Jake and Jas for a while and I missed them, so I dug this out of my drafts and finally finished it. I forgot how much I love writing their dynamic, so I hope you like this little drabble.

There was a knock on the door and Jas looked up from the computer screen to find Martha in the doorway. She held a chart in her hands and had an annoyed look on her face.

“There’s a lieutenant here who needs stitches,” she said.

Jas furrowed her brows, glancing at the clock on her computer. “Stitches?” she questioned. “Usually you take care of stitches.”

Martha sighed, offering the clipboard with the intake form to Jas, who stood to accept it. Flipping the page, her breath hitched at the name. “He’s asking for you.”

Jas held back a groan. “Of course he is,” she muttered and followed Martha out to the reception area.

“Watch out for him,” she said as she situated herself behind the desk. “I remember him from when he was at TOPGUN.”

“Let me guess,” Jas said, heading for the exam room. “He was as much a pain in the ass then as he is now.”

She didn’t wait to hear Martha’s response, but opened the door to the stark white exam room. Jake Seresin sat on the exam bed, holding gauze to his left eyebrow.

“Who punched you this time?” she asked, closing the door behind her. He was in civilian clothes. Dark jeans, black boots, and a white t-shirt sprinkled with blood from his split eyebrow.

She expected him to grin, to make a quip, but nothing came. He looked defeated and a little angry.

“Met an ex-boyfriend of yours,” he said nonchalantly. Jas frowned at that, not remembering that any of her exes lived or worked in the area. She supposed a trip wouldn’t be out of the question, but it seemed unlikely.

She put the clipboard down on the bed next to him. “Yeah?” She asked and reached for a pair of gloves from the dispenser on the wall. “Which one?”

“Connor, I think his name was,” he said and removed the gauze at her indication. 

Jas chuckled. “Please tell me you threw the first punch,” she said, but caught herself. “Was it a punch that did this?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a shrug as Jas inspected the cut running through his brow. “Didn’t know you were into bodybuilders.”

Jas frowned at that. “He was scrawny when we were in med school.”

“Not anymore,” Hangman stated. “What’s the verdict?”

“You need stitches, so I’m going to numb you up and get started, okay?”

He nodded with another shrug. Silence fell over the room as Jas worked, finding a thread and needle, scissors, and tongs to hold the needle with.

“Tell me to stop if you feel any pain, okay?”

Jake hummed his acknowledgement, and Jas got to work putting him back together. He flinched a couple of times, but took it mostly in a stride.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend, you know.”

“What?”

“Connor,” Jas clarified as she tied up the last knot. “We went on two dates and had very boring, unsatisfying sex once.”

Jake frowned. His green eyes darkened, confusion overtaking his stupidly handsome face. “He wasn’t your boyfriend?”

Jas snorted so hard her nose hurt. “No,” she answered, discarding the gloves in a nearby trashcan. “He’s lying if he said that.”

“He did,” Jake said, as his feet hit the floor with a soft thud.

“So,” Jas began, looking over his intake form. “Why’d you punch him?”

Jake hovered near her shoulder, watching as she added her own notes, and she felt the intensity of his gaze. He was all body heat and tension and his cologne invaded her senses, making her head feel heavy.

“He’s an idiot.”

She looked up from the clipboard. She watched him put his balled up fists in his pockets and the way his jaw clenched. “I can’t put that in your chart,” she replied, straightening her back.

“It’s the truth.”

Jas nodded. “I’m sure it is, but I still can’t put that in your chart. So, what’d he say, Seresin?”

He looked around the room, avoiding her eyes. He clearly didn’t want to tell her, but she would pry it from him if she had to. She had her ways, especially with him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally replied.

Stepping forward, she came into his space, ignoring the electricity that burst to life between them as they breathed the same air. She could smell beer on his breath, and found that she didn’t hate it. “Come on, Seresin,” she coaxed, running a fingertip along his left bicep. “It can’t be that bad.”

Jake clenched his jaw again, turning his gaze to the ceiling as he let out a long breath. When his eyes returned to hers, he looked like he wanted to punch the man all over again. “He said you were an easy lay.”

Jas snorted again. “Did he now?”

“Yes.” Jake’s tone was harsh. Voice deep and hoarse.

“So you defended my honor?”

His eyes narrowed. “I–”

“I don’t need you to defend me, lieutenant,” Jas interrupted, squeezing his arm before taking a step back. “Certainly not to a guy who couldn’t even get me off.”

“He called you a slut,” he protested, clearly taken aback by her response.

She chuckled. “He’s not the first one to say that, and he won’t be the last. It says more about him than it does about me.”

Picking up a pen, she noted the reason for his trip to the infirmary, but left out some key details. No one needed to know that he’d started a bar fight.

“You’re not upset?”

She turned back to Jake, who looked as confused as ever. It was cute. “That he called me a slut, or that you punched him?”

“The name.”

“I don’t like it,” Jas relented. “But he’s just some guy I went to med school with. He’s an idiot.”

At that, Jake smiled for the first time. A small smile, but it the made the skin around his eyes crinkle in that way she loved so much.

“You’re not mad,” he said, sounding relieved, making Jas smile.

“No,” she said and stepped into his space again. “But if you still wanna make it up to me, come to my place after my shift.”

Jake’s eyes widened. When he opened his mouth to reply, Jas cut him off with a searing kiss to his lips that he returned with fervor, hands on her waist immediately.

They broke apart, and Jas leaned in, brushing her lips against his earlobe to whisper only a few short words.

“Get me off like the idiot never could.”

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @joaquinwhorres, @fantasias-creativebubble, @lostinwonderland314, @luckyladycreator2, @blue-aconite, @cherrycola27, @flashyourgreeneyesatme, @wordspin-shares, @atarmychick007, @lewmagoo, @yanna-banana, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @ereardon, @wkndwlff, @t-nd-rfoot, @sylviebell, @bobfloyds, @thedroneranger, @soulmates8, @withakindheartx, @eternallyvenus, @kmc1989, @bcarolinablr

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

K's Master List

Hello there! I'm K and welcome to my side blog!

Minors please do not interact with my blog. I will block you. Blank blogs and ageless blogs have the same protocol. It's nothing personal, just trying to protect myself.

I do not do requests. It has nothing to do with you lovely people. I did requests for a previous fandom I was in and because I'm a natural people pleaser, it just became an unhealthy cycle. So, now I only write what I feel like writing.

Please do not copy or repost (i.e. copy and paste elsewhere - reblogging is a different thing and greatly appreciated) my work. This is the only place that I publish these works.

I don't do a tag list for all works since this side blog is exclusively dedicated to publishing and reblogging my own Top Gun content and an occasional announcement.

I do tag lists for ongoing stories/series. Simply reply to or reblog the work/series and say that you want to be tagged

To be tagged, you must have a reference to your age in your bio. No exceptions. It's nothing personal, but because this blog is 18+ Only, I'd look like a dumbass hypocrite if I tagged ageless blogs. Help me help you and put your age in your bio/pinned post.

Thank you for visiting and I hope you enjoy my works! My actual Master List is below the cut.

Works are separated by character. Characters with more than five posts have a separate master list. Major content warnings (i.e. pregnancy, death, etc.) are provided but please check each work for more specific warnings.

If you see a [*] symbol, it just means that work is more suggestive.

If a work is listed with "OC | Reader," the 'Reader' is biologically related to an established character (i.e. Maverick's daughter).

OC characters might have an established race/appearance, so check the summary/warnings of that work first.

Top Gun

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw

See Separate Master List

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Handyman - Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Summary: When it comes time to give your newborn daughter a bath in the kitchen sink, it conveniently breaks. Fortunately or unfortunately, Maverick is a handyman.

Top Gun: Maverick

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

See Separate Master List

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

See Separate Master List

Javy "Coyote" Machado

A Walk Down Memory Lane - Bradshaw!Fem! OC | Reader

Summary: Rooster and Tweety Bradshaw look through their mom’s belongings as Tweety’s wedding to Coyote approaches.

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Come Here - AFAB!Reader

Summary: You have your period. Fanboy takes care of you.

Family Man - GN!Spouse!Reader

Summary: After a long day at work, Fanboy returns home to complete his most important job: taking care of his family.

Robert "Bob" Floyd

See Separate Master List

Beau "Cyclone" Simpson

The Admirals Strike Back - Wife!Reader (Mitchell!Reader)

CW: Consensual and Very Much Legal Age-Gap Relationship (About 15 years); Non-Traditional Father-Daughter Relationship (Between Maverick and Reader)

Summary: Maverick knew that his somewhat estranged daughter was married. He just didn't know who she married.

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Bleeding Hearts - Male!Bradshaw!Twin!OC (Braedon)

CW: Hospitals; Exes; Unresolved Feelings; Best Friend's Brother

Summary: After the bird strike, Phoenix's ex, who just so happens to be Rooster's twin brother, comes to check up on her.

Daggers (All 7)

THE FAMILY AFFAIRS COLLECTION >

Mav's Reaction to Each of the Daggers Dating His Daughter - Mitchell!Fem! OC | Reader

Summary: Maverick finds out that his daughter is dating someone that he knows when she invites her new partner to dinner. And so he makes it his mission to greet them at the door first.

The Daggers and Their (Secret) Kids

CW: Pregnancy, see warnings for additional specific CWs by Dagger (include Reference Character Death, Strained Relationships, Divorce, etc.)

Summary: Headcanons about the families that the seven Daggers could have had going into TGM with, since there's nothing about their families mentioned in the movie.

The Love Game - Fem!Reader (Glitch)

CW: Unrequited Love; Angst; Emotional Angst; One-Sided Relationship; ‘He’s in Love with Someone Else’ Trope

Summary: Glitch has been in love with Hangman for years but he’s getting married to another woman.

A.N. Multiple Pairings: Hangman/Glitch; Hangman/Fem!OC; Glitch /Mystery Dagger

[compacflt]

For the requests/open inbox, this may not be the lane you're looking for, but you made a throw a way mention in a response to the ask about Ice's enforcement of DADT that Bradley and Ice probably got into it at one point about Ice being totally okay with DADT as a policy (which I love your read on Ice being like, 'yeah, nobody should ask and nobody should tell. what's the problem here?') I would love to see that argument go down. Or honestly, just any Ice and Bradley interaction after the reconciliation that suits your fancy. I find that dynamic in your world super interesting. Bradley sees him as a father, Ice sees him as the person whose father I killed. I love the drama.

Five times Ice was so obviously Rooster’s dad + one time he explicitly wasn’t.

[Carole. 1994.]

He’s such a nervous man. Usually that’s not the word people associate with him. Nervous? Never! But he is. Carole Bradshaw’s more a religious woman than a spiritual one. She’s never put any stock into “chockras” or “ouras” or whatever the other girls her age were fooling around with in the late sixties and early seventies. But she does believe that you can understand a person just by looking at him or her, and when she looks at Tom Kazansky, she sees a little anxious creature, shivering in the cold, like one of those tiny spindly dogs who always needs a sweater. Maybe it’s her southern maternal instincts, something primal and animalistic inside her, I need to take care of you—and when he nudges her with a nervous shivering shoulder and whispers, “Can I bum a smoke?” —she reaches down to take his hand and says, “I only have one left. We’ll have to share.”

She knows she makes him nervous. His ears are red, and so’s the back of his neck. It’s early on a Saturday morning, and the church is crowded, and he’s self-conscious about the fact that she’s holding his hand. Good. It’s so rare she gets to make a man nervous anymore. She waves to Bradley, proud in his little striped button-down and his little blue bow-tie, where he’s lined-up with all the other aspiring pianists against the stage along the far wall, under the bare postmodern crucifix. The recital isn’t going to start for another five, ten minutes, and it’s organized by age, so Bradley’s somewhere in the middle. If Tom Kazansky needs a smoke, Carole Bradshaw will bum him a smoke.

They exit out the side door, and the low murmuring of the other proud parents in the church fades to the quiet of the alley. Birds chirping nearby. The sound of a latecoming car on gravel somewhere far away. Her cigarette and the flick of his lighter, her eyes on his mouth and his puff of smoke—it’s lit. He takes a drag, closes his eyes, then passes it to her. “Sorry to make you share,” she says, and she’s watching the red flush creep up the side of his throat with a silent pleasure. When she takes her own pull, she looks down to see that the filter’s gone the sweet red-pink of her old lipstick. Kind of like a kiss, sharing a cigarette.

“That’s okay,” he says. Nervous spindly little dog. “Uh, what’s he playing?”

“Beethoven. ‘Für Elise.’” Then, before he can think to judge, she goes on quickly: “It’s more complicated than you’d think. Goes up and down and all over the place.”

“It’s a good song,” Tom Kazansky says, “though I don’t know too much about piano.” He pauses. “I’m learning a little German, though. I think it’s E-leez-ah. She must’ve been an alright girl if Beethoven wrote a song for her.”

Carole Bradshaw doesn’t know what to say to that. So she says this instead: “Thank you for coming. It made Bradley—well, over the moon, I guess.”

Tom Kazansky smiles shyly. “Sorry Maverick couldn’t come. I know he wanted to.”

Of course he brings up Pete Mitchell. Drags her back into reality. “He’s in Washington again, isn’t he?”

“Correct.” He reaches out for the cigarette; she gives it to him. “TOPGUN’s biggest advocate. I keep telling him he should go into politics. I just talked to him yesterday—he told me he went to the Natural History Smithsonian on Wednesday—he bought Bradley a dinosaur picture book, I think. Does Bradley like dinosaurs?”

Carole Bradshaw shrugs. What nine-year-old boy doesn’t like dinosaurs, but… “He’s more into sea life these days. Whales, sharks, fish.”

“Some fish used to be dinosaurs, they think,” says Tom Kazansky, clearly just trying to fill the silence. Ears red, lips red. Smoke out of his mouth like a fire-breathing dragon.

Carole Bradshaw doesn’t know how much dinosaur history she actually believes. So she says, “It’s still really nice of you to come. You know, Bradley—Bradley thinks of you and Maverick as his—well, his fathers, I s’pose. So it’s nice for you to be here.”

She watches his reaction—just nervousness. Straight anxiety. He doesn’t meet her eyes, like she’s just kicked him in the ribs. He does not want to be Bradley’s father. 

She says, “You don’t have to sign any papers, Tom. You don’t have to put a kid seat in your car. I’m just saying. Don’t worry about it.”

He says, “I can hear the kids starting inside—we should probably go back in.”

So Carole Bradshaw drops the cigarette butt to the ground and steps on it with the bottom of her flat. They go inside, and wait for a kindergartener to finish an overly simple “Canon in D” to take their seats again. She takes his hand. He lets her. After another half-hour, Bradley sits down on the bench in front of the hand-me-down Steinway and busts out “Für Elise” without a single missed note. It still shocks her, sometimes, to watch him play—it still shocks her, sometimes, that she is the mother of all that talent. And now maybe Tom Kazansky is the father of all that talent. How did that happen?

At the end of the recital, Tom Kazansky lets go of her hand. She knew he would. Knew his fatherhood is only temporary. But he lets go of her hand to accept Bradley’s great-big hug in the parking lot: “Gosling, that was so good.” Bradley’s proud smile is missing a few teeth. It makes Tom Kazansky laugh.

And after he drops them off at home, and peels away with a wave and a smile, Carole Bradshaw lights another cigarette from the half-full pack she’d brought with her to the recital and brings Bradley out to the backyard so he can play and she can watch him. But before she lets him go, she looks down at him and says flatly, “If kids at school ask you about Uncle Tom and Uncle Pete—you need to tell them they’re just friends.”

And in his eyes, she can see the confusion of a little boy who hadn’t been aware that Tom Kazansky and Pete Mitchell were anything other than just friends—the confusion of a little boy learning about duplicity for the first time in his life. 

“Okay,” he says, so she lets him go.

—

[Maverick. 1998.]

“Don’t go easy on him,” Maverick hollers breathlessly over his shoulder, fishing around in the ice chest in the sand for two cans of Coors; “He just joined the J.R.O.T.C.; don’t go easy on him; he’s tougher than all your squadrons combined; beat him into the dirt…”

“Thanks, Uncle Mav,” shouts Bradley from across the volleyball court, where he’s getting initiated into one of the volleyball teams of younger fighter pilots. 

Maverick flashes him a thumbs-up and finds his T-shirt on the first bleacher bench, pulls it on with one hand, and then hops up the rest of the benches to sit with Ice, who’s got his CVN-65 ballcap on and a book open in his lap and is offering informal career advice to one of the other lieutenants: “Yeah, so, in my opinion, it’s all down to what you think you can stomach… If you want me to look over your C.V., I can totally do that—I think I’m free Monday at around thirteen-hundred, if you want to stop in to talk. Not a problem. Not a problem. Alright. See you later.” He watches the lieutenant go, then lolls his head over to look at Maverick, who’s tossing an ice-cold can of Coors up and down. “Hey. Good game. —Coors, Mav? This is an insult.” But he takes the offered can anyway, looking out onto the court, where Bradley—fourteen and just entering his beanpole phase of evolution—is currently spiking the ball. “Cool.” It’s a nice summer Saturday, a casual opportunity for the officers of Miramar to socialize with their families (Ice is wearing a golf shirt and jeans), and by now pretty much everyone knows that Maverick Mitchell’s raising his friend’s kid and that he and Captain Kazansky are good friends, so this is pretty nice. Not much to hide.

“C’mon,” Maverick says, popping open his own can, “you and I were having a scintillating conversation, a few minutes ago.” He’s hunting around for the sunscreen so the tops of his feet don’t burn to ashes in the sun.

“Scintillating. That’s a big word for you. Wow.”

“You’re rubbing off on me, Sir Reads-a-lot—”

“See, that’s funny,” Ice interjects, “because I seem to recall, before you so-rudely interrupted me to go play volleyball with the kids, I was telling you that it’s really not that interesting. It’s actually, Maverick, quite boring.”

“Well, I’m intrigued now. Go on. Finish it off, I wanna know.”

Ice slaps his book shut and gives the long tired sigh of a man who is very self-conscious about the fact that he’s about to turn forty. He pops the tab on his can of Coors and huffs in exasperation when it foams all over his hand. “I mean it, my family history’s really not that interesting. Typical eastern-European immigrant shitshow. U.S. officials change one letter in our last name and everyone loses their goddamn minds… Actually, that story might be apocryphal, I keep forgetting which former Soviet Socialist Republic I’m actually from, I just can’t remember, all the borders got redrawn so many times, one of ‘em…”

Maverick smiles and pulls his TOPGUN ballcap back down onto his head, tugs the brim down low over his eyes so he can tip his head back and not go blind from the summer sunshine. He’d thought Ice would be reluctant to share his family history, but it turns out that most people are just afraid to ask him, and he’s actually pretty eager to talk, if you just ask. Maybe over-eager. He’s rambling. Maverick cuts him off: “Yeah, you do have a left curve to you, don’t you. Genetic.”

The dirty joke strikes Ice dumb for a second, but then he forges ahead, wisely choosing not to engage. He keeps going, oblivious to the fact that Maverick’s not really listening… “Anyway, my grandfather was Jewish, but he died literally the second he stepped foot in America, so it doesn’t count…my grandmother was Orthodox, crazy story how they ended up together; actually, that story’s probably apocryphal, too…she’s the one who raised me, pretty much. I told you that. She brought my dad out to Southern California when he was a little kid, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed, So-Cal’s not exactly the Mecca of Orthodox churches or anything, so he wasn’t very religious at all… My mom was from Milwaukee, I think. Or maybe Minneappolis. Some kinda Protestant. Forget which kind. The preachy kind. But then she died and I didn’t have to go to church anymore, so I didn’t.”

“You just never believed?” Maverick mumbles, half-joking.

“Nah. I mean, I always had too many questions no one wanted to answer. For instance: okay, say you’re bad. Say you commit sin…”

“I’ve never sinned, sir. You’re talking hypothetically.”

“Right. Me, neither. Hypothetically speaking. So you go to Hell. Well, the devil’s there, too, ‘cause he’s a sinner, too. But why’s he want to punish you? What does he get out of it? You’re both in the same boat!”

“Probably a sexual thing,” says Maverick, watching the purple-green imprints of the sun dance around behind his eyelids. “He probably gets off on it. The devil, I mean.”

Ice laughs and laughs. “Sure. Try saying that in front of my mom and see if you survived. I learned pretty early on that they don’t want you to be too curious. So I kept all my questions to myself.” He’s also joking, not taking this super seriously, but that’s a pretty in-character answer. “What about you, Mav?”

“If I’ve told you my family’s history once, I’ve told you a thousand times…” That’s a joke. Maverick’s the one who doesn’t like talking about his family history. Ice hasn’t heard any of it, and for good reason. Maybe someday he’ll tell him about it. “Later. But, remember, I used to be Southern Baptist? Jesus, I was serious into that shit, Ice.”

Ice snorts. “Yeah, right. You.”

“Not joking. I had about eighty girlfriends between fourteen and eighteen, but that’s the most pious I’ve ever been. Lotsa loopholes to make my relationships biblical. Was thinking about being a youth pastor. —I’m not joking. It was my whole personality, for a while. Most of my childhood, anyway.”

Ice is still laughing in disbelief. “Oh, yeah? And then what happened?”

Maverick smiles. “…Got hooked on sinning.” 

“…Yeah,” Ice replies, and Maverick can hear the nervous smirk in his voice, “I guess I’d know a little something about that.”

And normally that would be the end of the conversation. But Maverick’s feeling a little sun-drunk, a little giddy, and he’ll never, ever, ever grow out of instigating stupid arguments with Ice just for the fun of it. From beneath the brim of his ballcap he mutters, “…You think Carole’s brainwashing her kid?”

Ice huffs a laugh, and says through a lazy yawn, “I’m not militant in my atheism, no.” But he, also, will never, ever, ever grow out of instigating stupid arguments with Maverick just for the fun of it, and his curiosity’s clearly been piqued. He stews in it for a second before he snaps, “Do you think Carole’s brainwashing her kid?”

“I’m just saying she has him readin’ outta the Bible, like, five times a day. She sends him to church camp. Does something to a kid.” He has no dog in this fight, but this is fun.

“And what did it do to you?” Ice says, reaching down to shove his shoulder good-naturedly. “Weren’t you just telling me not five seconds ago how you used to be the perfect model of Christian charity?” Maverick mumbles a retort sleepily; Ice pushes on through it: “Bradley’s a human being. Either he grows out of it like you did, or he doesn’t, in which case, whatever, land of the free. That’s the First Amendment. You swore an oath to the Constitution. Maybe you should read it.”

“I’ve read it. I’m not Congress, shithead. How’s it go, you want me to cite it to you directly, ‘Congress shall make no law…’ actually, I don’t know what comes after that. Got me there.”

“Don’t call me shithead, dipshit. And whatever. Good thing he’s Carole’s kid and not yours, then. He’s got a mom who wants him to go to church. It’s up to him if he wants to listen to her or not. That’s growing up.”

Maverick tips up the brim of his ballcap to look at him, sprawled out in the bleachers very unprofessionally for the CO of this entire volleyball court, and snaps back, “Well, he’s a little bit my kid. The same way he’s a little bit your kid.” 

Ice just flicks his sunglasses down onto his nose and purses his lips and neither confirms nor denies this allegation. 

They watch the game together for a while, Ice’s toes pressed against Maverick’s lower back discreetly, trying to work their way under Maverick’s T-shirt. Until one of the young pilots approaches a few minutes later: “Sir!” / “What’s that kid’s call sign again?” Ice mumbles to Maverick, prodding him with his foot. / “Hooker.” / “No shit.” / “Sir!” says Hooker again. / “Which one of us, kid?” says Maverick. / “Captain Kazansky, sir. We’ve got a spot opening up. Wanna play?”

Maverick looks up at Ice expectantly. Ice sighs and harrumphs and waffles for a minute— “I’m too old for this shit.”

“Sir,” says Maverick, “it’s not a competition, but if it were, I’d be winning.” 

Lighting the fire of competition under Ice like that is always a good strategy. He rolls his eyes, but immediately stands and tugs off his shirt and rolls up the cuffs of his jeans; “I’ll only play if I can play with the kid.” 

So Maverick watches the teams get scrambled again with a smile, and sits up to watch Ice join Bradley in the sand. Bradley’s only just now taller than Ice, and Ice clearly isn’t used to having to reach up to curl an arm around his shoulders to strategize, his eyes narrowed like an eagle’s, staring down the competition. Maverick can read his lips from across the pitch: Alright, kid, I’ve been watching for a while, and I think I know these guys’ strengths and weaknesses…okay, here’s what we’re gonna do… And the game begins when Bradley spikes the ball.

Ice won’t always be this fun, this down-to-earth, this human. The admiralty and the guilt and the grief of the years to come will strip it all away from him, bring him back to the cold, remove him from his own humanity. And maybe, even if it isn’t conscious, Maverick can recognize that, right now, watching Ice dive into the sand with a laugh: this summer sunshine is only temporary. It’s gonna have to end at some point. So he doesn’t take it for granted. He keeps his eyes open and watches and tries to commit it to memory.

And after the game, Ice and Bradley come over so Ice can finish his beer and put his shirt and his baseball cap back on, and Maverick can make fun of them for losing. And: “What were you guys talking about for so long before the game?” Bradley asks Maverick with a grin.

“Whether or not your mom’s brainwashing you,” Maverick says.

“Oh!” Bradley says mildly. “…No, I don’t think so!”

“Oh, that’s a great start,” Ice laughs. “You would’ve made a great Soviet. No, I don’t think I’m getting brainwashed. Hey, by the way, Gosling, if you want a beer, Maverick and I won’t tell anyone.”

“Aw, really?” whispers Bradley. “Thanks, Uncle Ice!” And he races down the bleachers towards the ice chest in the sand.

Maverick watches Ice watch him go, fingers still pinching the brim of his CVN-65 ballcap, clearly worrying about something the way Ice always is. 

Then he looks down at Maverick, stares openly for a minute, and says, “You don’t think we’re teaching him to rebel too much, do you?”

—

[Bradley. 2000.]

“Kiddo! You’re here early!” It was Uncle Ice, walking through his own front door, catching a glimpse of Bradley watching the Astros-Nats game on the TV. He was still in uniform, but smiling wide, and he set his bag down near the couch and leaned over to ruffle Bradley’s hair goodnaturedly.

“Practice ended early today.”

“Oh, okay. Cool. Maverick should be home soon, still at work—your mom’ll be here in about an hour—she told me to put the chicken breasts in the oven, but you know me, every time I use this oven I set off the fire alarm, so you oughta help me with that…”

“And,” Bradley said, watching Uncle Ice wash his hands in the kitchen sink, “I got here early because I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, sure!” chirped Uncle Ice. Then he paused, sensing a trap. “What about?”

“Advice,” Bradley mumbled. He took a deep breath, and stood to follow Uncle Ice into the kitchen “I was just—I was just curious. If you had any advice for me joining the Navy. You know, with me being gay, and all. How do I—I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It’s kinda been weighing on me. Do you have any advice?”

Uncle Ice was still drying his hands off on a kitchen towel. Rubbing them red and raw. And when he raised his head to speak, there was something dull and startled in his eyes: “I don’t, um—no, I don’t—I don’t know anything about that. —You should ask Uncle Maverick about that.”

“I did,” Bradley said desperately, because he had. Yes, he’d gone to Uncle Mav first. “He—he told me to talk to you.”

“…Oh,” said Uncle Ice, now standing in front of a shelf to return one of his books to it. This surprised him. Maybe hurt him a little. “No. I—I, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“But—”

“And there are probably better people to ask than me or Maverick. I—I don’t know—that’s not really my…I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

Uncle Ice swallowed, put the book back on the shelf, then clasped his hands together and set them on the shelf, too, as if leaning over his captain’s desk to chastise someone. He blinked for a long moment. Clearly shifting gears. Becoming someone else so easily. Why couldn’t Bradley do that? “But I can tell you this,” he said, and his voice had gone grave and dim, “and I know you and I don’t always see eye-to-eye on politics—but I can tell you this, professionally, because I respect you, and I care about you, a lot—you’re going to have to keep it a secret.”

Dismayed, Bradley said, “Why?”

“Why’s a funny question to ask about something like this,” said Uncle Ice curtly. He shrugged. “Why? Because it’s the law. That’s why.”

Bradley swung his bat at the hornets’ nest. This was always dangerous with Uncle Ice. “It shouldn’t be a law. Don’t you think?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s the law. And we get paid to enforce the law, internationally speaking. And the military doesn’t work if personnel refuse to follow the rules in broad daylight. So.” He trailed his fingertip along the spines of all his precious books, then eventually found a different one, started flipping through it absentmindedly. “And even if it weren’t the law, it’d still get enforced extrajudicially. You know what that means?” He did that, when he was intentionally being cruel; used big words that Bradley didn’t know to make himself sound smarter. “It means outside the law. The way people talk to you. The way people respect you or don’t respect you. And this business, the one you want to go into, is all about respect. Being a pilot is kind of like being a knight: you have to be noble, you have to be honorable, you have to respect your service and your adversaries and yourself. And because I respect you, and because I care about you a lot, I’m just telling you the truth—you’re going to have to keep it a secret.”

Bradley blinked. There was something crushing and overwhelming about the truth—maybe the fact that it was the truth, maybe the fact that he hated the fact that it was the truth. It made sense. But it also meant his future was unspeakably bleak. He tried to speak over the lump in his throat when he said, “Yeah. That’s what Maverick told me, too.” And what he’d wanted to hear from Uncle Ice was that Uncle Mav was telling a lie. 

Something went soft and slightly wounded in Uncle Ice’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Uncle Ice said gently. “I wish I could give you better advice than that. But that’s all I know. I don’t know any more than that.”

“Don’t you want to know more than that?”

“No.”

And thus did the generational gap widen into a chasm. 

—

[February 2003.]

Dear SN Bradshaw, / Please call/email/write me back when you get a chance. / Love Uncle Iceman.

…

[August 2003.]

Dear AN Bradshaw, / I hope you’re doing all right. I hope at some point you and I can get in touch to talk. Please let me know if there is some other address I should be sending my letters to. I am not sure if they are finding you. / Love Uncle Iceman.

…

[May 2004.]

Dear AN Bradshaw, / I wanted to congratulate you on your acceptance to college. Yours is a very good AE program & you should feel very proud. Please let me know if there’s anything you might need as you prepare to start your first year. / Love Uncle Iceman.

…

[August 2010.]

Dear LT Bradshaw, / I wanted to let you know that I’ll be at NAS Oceana for a conference from December 6-9. I understand that’s your neck of the woods—would you be interested in having dinner with me on either that Tuesday or Wednesday night? I would love to hear how you’ve been doing. You can reach my secretary at the number below. / Love Uncle Iceman.

…

[October 2014.]

Dear LT Bradshaw, / We Maverick and I want to wish you a Happy Birthday 30th Birthday. We heard you are deployed out in the Atlantic now—we hope you will be able to enjoy the enclosed gift card when you make it back to terra firma. Our updated personal cell numbers are below. / HAPPY BIRTHDAY! FROM UNCLE MAVERICK & Uncle Iceman.

…

“Haven’t heard back from the kid yet.”

“…You think we ever will?”

The longest silence.

—

[Pacific Air Type Commander Beau Simpson. 2016.]

You could see it in the way they held themselves. An utmost similarity. Aristocratic propriety. Maybe a little sense of entitlement: look how hard we’ve worked to be here. All three of them had it. More accurately: Captain Mitchell and Admiral Kazansky both had it, and had passed it down to their son.

“Captain Mitchell.” Everyone was watching. The sun had only just set; the sky was melting from horizon-red through orange and yellow and teal up to midnight black above them.

“It’s an honor, sir,” said Captain Mitchell, accepting Admiral Kazansky’s handshake. God, you’d never know it by looking at them. Half the people here on this Roosevelt flight deck knew about them, but they were so convincing that more people weren’t sure. TYCOM Simpson glanced at Rear Admiral Bates, who glanced back in confusion—I thought they were…? They were, TYCOM Simpson signaled, just abnormally good at keeping it a secret.

“Honor’s all mine, Captain,” said Admiral Kazansky, and he passed by without a second glance.

And when he made it down the line of aviators to Lieutenant Bradshaw—you could see it. The similarity in the way they held themselves. Straight and rigid and unyielding. Cold and dismissive beyond belief, even to each other. Admiral Kazansky held out a hand. Lieutenant Bradshaw took it, but refused to make eye contact. Quiet rebellion under the radar: Admiral Kazansky had taught him well. 

TYCOM Simpson glanced at Captain Mitchell, to gauge his reaction. And for once, he and Captain Mitchell were clearly thinking the exact same thing.

Like father, like son.

You could see it in their stubborn determination. How far they were willing to go. How hard they were willing to push. How long they were willing to hold their own hands to the fire, if it meant the familiar painful comfort of staying warm. “Ice-cold, huh?” TYCOM Simpson asked him the next morning, trying to pin down their strategy, trying to secure a guarantee that their family would do what their country asked of them, even if that meant death. Even if that meant the ultimate sacrifice.

“Only when I have to be,” replied Admiral Kazansky, which meant always, and—soon thereafter, he ordered Lieutenant Bradshaw to his death.

But also, Lieutenant Bradshaw went willingly, too.

“Dagger One is hit.”

“Dagger Two is hit.”

Loss is supposed to hit a man in stages. Isn’t that the truth? —Not so for Admiral Kazansky, whom grief obviously swallowed whole in just an instant. He did not break, or bend under its weight. Just stood there staring at the E-2D AWACS screen with wide wounded eyes—not disbelieving eyes. They were gone. Captain Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradshaw were gone. He was in no denial whatsoever. He had leapt straight to acceptance.

“Sir,” said TYCOM Simpson hesitantly, and he reached out to touch him—the stars on his shoulder—guide him back to reality—what must it be like, to lose a son?—to willingly forfeit your family?—

But before he could make contact, Admiral Kazansky drew a breath, moved away, and closed his eyes for just a second. Perfectly composed, even with the waters of grief closing over his head, even with three dozen observers in this C2 room all scrutinizing him for his response. Perfectly composed. How did he do it? How could he manage? How was he possibly still this proud?

“Vice Admiral Simpson,” he said calmly, “I relinquish my command to you, until you deem me necessary to return to my post.”

“Sir,” said Rear Admiral Bates, darting panicked, sympathetic eyes to TYCOM Simpson, but it was too late—Admiral Kazansky was already leaving the room. Head held high and steady. 

Some confusing weeks later, after Captain Mitchell and Lieutenant Bradshaw returned from the dead, TYCOM Simpson and Rear Admiral Bates would casually debrief the mission together in the lobby bar of the Waldorf-Astoria in Washington, D.C. No hard liquor, just beers. Just barely enough alcohol to give them an excuse to philosophize. “You think pride is a sin or a virtue?” TYCOM Simpson found himself asking, tracing the rim of his gilt-edged Stella Artois glass with a finger, after having recounted the above testimony.

“Neither,” said Rear Admiral Bates. “Gotta be a vice.”

“A vice.”

“Yeah. Good men die because of pride, bad men die because of pride…we send our sons to battle because of pride…wars are fought and won and lost because of pride… every war in human history, when you boil it down, begins when someone says, ‘You’re wrong and I’m right, and I’m proud of my own righteousness, proud enough to kill, proud enough to die, proud enough to send my sons to die…’”

“Oh, okay. That’s the root of all human conflict, then, according to you, Warlock. Okay.”

Rear Admiral Bates smiled and laughed at himself, too. Pride, he mouthed. Then shook his head. “We’re a proud species. It’s our vice.”

TYCOM Simpson was thinking about the two proudest men he knew, Admiral Kazansky and Lieutenant Bradshaw, and wondered what it was, exactly, that had driven a wedge between them, you’re wrong and I’m right and I’m proud enough of my own righteousness to send you to your death/inflict my death upon you… And then he remembered the warnings he’d previously received about Lieutenant Bradshaw and Lieutenant Seresin and their open relationship, and then he remembered Admiral Kazansky coldly shaking Captain Mitchell’s hand… and he wondered if the wedge between them was exactly that: the matter of pride.

—

[Tom. 2018.]

“Merry Christmas and a happy new year, and all that,” says Pete, raising his glass and reaching over the dining table to clink rims with Tom and then Bradley. “A good year! A really good year! —Sorry your guy couldn’t be here, Rooster. We’ll call him tonight before you go. Tell him we miss him.”

“Where is he again?” Tom asks.

“Washington,” Bradley says with a smile. “Big conference at the Pentagon. I’ll see him next week.”

“You know,” Pete says with a sly grin directed at Tom, “I’ve never actually heard the story of how you two got together.” 

“Oh,” Bradley says, shrugging as he tears open a dinner roll, “not that interesting. Pretty much what you’d expect. Inter-squadron competition-turned-sexual tension. Not exactly within regs, but we did meet each other before D.A.D.T. got repealed, so it wasn’t like we’d’ve ever been within regs, either…” (All the while, Tom’s smirking over the rim of his wine glass at Pete, No, Mav, I’m not gonna tell him I had them reassigned to the same boat…) “We broke up when I got sent to TOPGUN. But we figured it out eventually.”

“Glad you did. Sorry he couldn’t be here.”

Bradley hesitates, then says, “You know what I just realized? I never heard how you two got together…! You’ve never told me that story!”

Tom glances over at Pete, do you want to take this or shall I, and when Pete motions all yours, he sighs and says, “Uh, we don’t really know. We’ve just been telling people nineteen-eighty-six because it’s easy. But in a much more real sense…” He thinks about it, then shrugs. “Whatever. If you really want to know. In nineteen-ninety-three, right after I came back to San Diego to take command at Miramar, he and I had a drunken one-night stand. By accident. Which then turned into twenty-five years of accidental one-night stands. So.”

“Oh, c’mon. You guys bought a house together.”

“Yeah, that,” says Pete, “that was, uh, to facilitate the accidental one-night stands. Make it more convenient for everyone.”

“Cut out the middle-man,” Tom supplies, then shrugs again at the look on Bradley’s face. “That’s our story, kid. It’s not super romantic. We weren’t thinking about it that way. We didn’t know how.”

Pete raises the wine bottle to refill Tom’s glass—though it’s still halfway full—and then raises his eyebrows when he “notices” the bottle’s empty. Changes the subject as he stands: “Okay, what’s everyone feeling? Red, white, what’s next?”

“Red,” Tom says absently. “Anything big, I guess—first cab you see…” But then he thinks about it, and he amends his order before Pete leaves earshot: “Actually—we’ve got that petite sirah we gotta drink—two-thousand-four. Israeli. Might be somewhere in the back, sorry. But now’s a good occasion, I think, to bust it out for the holidays. No reason to save it.”

“Israeli sirah two-thousand-four,” Pete repeats, “okay. I got that.” 

Then he steps outside, leaving Tom and Bradley alone. It’s not awkward—they’ve worked really hard over the last two years to make it not-awkward, after the mission—but human beings are human beings. Prideful, stubborn creatures. There will always be a little guilt between the two of them, and a little blame.

“I have to be honest,” Tom says after a moment, interested in being honest for Bradley’s sake, “sorry we don’t have a better story to give you, about us. It is a little hard to talk about.”

“Why?”

“Well—we don’t know the words we’re supposed to use, for one. It’s your generation who sets the standard for that kind of thing. You young people. We’re a little out-of-date. And…well. I guess we’re just jealous of you. It’s hard to talk about.”

“Jealous?” Bradley repeats quizzically. “Why?”

Tom leans back in his chair and really thinks through what he wants to say. This is one of those impromptu speeches you never really intend to make, but are probably still important to get off your chest. “Maverick and I,” he starts carefully, “will never stop feeling guilty about what we did to you. Ever. You need to know that.” And when Bradley scoffs and huffs and tries to interrupt, he goes on, “Not just pulling your papers from the Academy. It goes back further than that. We will always feel like we deprived you of your father. The merits of that feeling are debatable, sure, but it’s a fact of life. A fact of our lives, anyway. And it’s dictated so much of how we live, and how we’ve lived, over the past thirty years. Part of the reason I came back to Miramar in nineteen-ninety-three was to be with you and your mom. Because I felt I owed you that, in return for what I’d taken.”

“You didn’t kill him,” Bradley says. “Or, at least, I never blamed you for killing him. You or Maverick both. You guys were my dads. You didn’t take anything from me. —Excepting the obvious, the Academy, but that was mostly my mom, I guess, so, whatever.”

“I’m just telling you what our lives have been like since the day I met you. Why we did what we did.”

“Okay. But I still don’t understand why you’re jealous.”

Tom smiles, a little faintly. “Because the other part of the reason I came back to Miramar in nineteen-ninety-three was to be with Maverick,” he says, “and I’m jealous of you because I didn’t recognize that at the time. —Everyone hopes, when they have kids—because, look, I’m not your dad, but you are my kid, really—everyone hopes they can bring their kid into a better world than the one they had when they were a kid, and we did. But no one prepares you for how jealous you get when your kid grows up in a better world than you did. I’m not sure people your age understand how hard it was for us when we were your age.”

“I do.”

“Sure, but I don’t think you do. I—I didn’t…” He sighs. “I never meant to fall in love with Mitchell. He never meant to fall in love with me. There certainly were men in relationships in the Navy back then who could make it work—we weren’t those guys. We looked down on those guys. Most people did. And when you were an officer, your job security and your paycheck relied on your subordinates’ respect for you. If we’d rocked the boat, traded away our respect for our relationship, well, we’d have each other, but we’d be out of a job. And then, if we’d been fired—what did we kill all those people for? For nothing! What a waste of all the lives we took! It wouldn’t have been honorable. Would’ve disrespected the Navy, our careers, the men we killed. So we didn’t talk about our relationship. You know that. Didn’t talk about who we were, or what we were doing, or why, because we were afraid of losing our own honor. Didn’t talk about it until the day you two died and came back from the dead. That’s what it took. Maverick still hates talking about some of that stuff, all the labels, all the words—that’s why I sent him to get a bottle at the back of the fridge, he might be out there a while…”

“Cunning,” Bradley says softly, but leaves the space open after he speaks.

Tom looks away. “Maybe this is getting too deep into the weeds. I’m just trying to tell you what it’s been like for us. Not sure how much of this you want to hear.”

“All of it. —All of it.”

Tom clears his throat. “…Well, Maverick keeps trying to convince me that we never wasted any time. And I know there is some truth to that—we didn’t start out liking each other at all—even if we’d been as brave as people your age are nowadays, even if we’d been open with each other about that kind of stuff, we still probably wouldn’t have ended up together. I mean, we really didn’t like each other. Especially right after your dad died, and especially after you left, in two-thousand-two. So maybe it was better for us in the long run that we didn’t talk about it. But I look back on the thirty years I’ve spent with him, and…it still all feels like a waste to me.” Maybe he really is too deep into the weeds. But he just wants Bradley to understand. “Look, Mitchell is, beyond any possible shadow of a doubt, the love of my life. Always has been and always will be. Right? —I just wish I’d known that at the time. I’m jealous of you because you’re exactly the age I was when I came back to Miramar to be with you and your mom and Maverick, and you’re already married, and you won’t ever have to sacrifice any of your honor for your marriage. You’re one of the most respected men in the Navy.”

“So are you, Ice, and you’re also married to another man.”

“I’ll remind you, though it hurts a little, that I’m almost exactly a quarter-century older than you, and you and I got married within a week of each other. I had to wait for times to change.” He holds Bradley’s gaze for a moment, then finishes the last of his dinner and sets his fork down on his plate. “So, if you were ever wondering why Mav and I are a little bitter around you and Jake, well, it’s because we are.”

“Oh,” says Bradley. “See, I always thought it was just because you and Maverick are both notoriously bitter people.”

“We are,” Tom admits through a laugh. Then he continues, “But—you should also know how proud of you we both are. How proud of you we’ve both always been. We’re not very brave men—well, we are, of course, but maybe not in the way that matters. It’s pretty gratifying to have a kid who’s braver than you are. Every parent’s dream, whether we want to admit it or not. You’re brave enough for all of us.”

It’s at this moment that Pete opens the garage door and sticks his head inside and hollers, “Ice, I can’t find it. What about a merlot? Can we do a merlot?”

“No, baby, the sirah,” Tom answers without turning his head. “It’s on the second shelf, you might—have to rearrange some of the bottles—we have too much wine. We need to drink more, me and you.”

“Not a problem,” says Pete, and he shuts the door again.

“It’s on the third shelf,” Tom tells Bradley in an aside. “He’ll find it eventually. He would’ve tried to change the subject six times by now. —The previous Secretary of the Army—he actually just got married this week, I think; I need to send a card—also gay. He and his partner invited Maverick and me out to dinner the last time we were in D.C. Most uncomfortable I’ve ever seen Mav in my whole life. Asking us questions like, ‘How did you guys get together…?’ ‘Was it easier for you guys because you were in the Navy…?’ ‘When did you…know…?’” When Bradley laughs, Tom does, too. It’s really nice, it turns out, to joke about this stuff with someone who understands. “We just made our answers up out of thin air. I was uncomfortable too, admittedly. That’s what I’m saying. Mav and I never learned the vocabulary to answer questions like that.”

Bradley starts taking their plates to the sink. What a good kid. “You know,” he says from the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder when Tom joins him at the counter, “it’s so funny you bitch that you and Mav don’t have a romantic love story, or whatever. When I was a kid, you and him were literally the pinnacle of romance.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yeah. There’s something romantic about the secret, too. When Jake and I made our relationship official—the first time—I begged him to keep it a secret just for a little while. You know; it was sexy, for a few minutes! Something only he and I knew!”

“And you immediately discovered how awful it is, I’m sure,” Tom says noncommittally. “I’m jealous of you that you learned that lesson young. —Yeah, real romantic. Maverick and I could’ve ended each other’s careers fourteen thousand times over. Real romantic.”

“And trusted each other not to,” Bradley points out—

—which makes Tom reconsider. 

Yeah, okay, maybe it’s a little romantic. The way Grimm’s fairytales, once you wipe away all the blood, are just a little romantic. “I’m of the opinion that the only thing getting old is good for is looking back on your life through rose-colored glasses. Sure. Historical revisionism it is. It was a little romantic.”

“What’s a little romantic?” says Pete, stepping into the kitchen and triumphantly brandishing his 2004 petite sirah; “Have I missed something funny? —It was on the third shelf, by the way. Could’ve told me that before I went and reorganized the whole fridge.”

Tom graciously accepts the half-annoyed kiss to the cheek, and answers, “Nothing you would’ve laughed at, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, one of those conversations,” says Pete, hunting around in the drawer for the corkscrew. “If you were planning on continuing, I can go out and rearrange the wine bottles by region instead of by year—” and scoffs when Tom kisses him back to reassure him, conversation’s over.

“Did you know,” Bradley says, “your husband is now openly calling you the love of his life?”

“Oh, yeah,” says Pete with a smile, popping the cork from the bottleneck, “he tells me that all the time. Nothing new.” Tops up their glasses, then deftly changes the subject: “Oh, gosh. I never asked. This is the big news. How are you and Hangman enjoying SOUTHCOM?”

“Oh, God,” says Bradley, rolling his eyes. “Let me tell you…”

“I think we did good,” Pete says later that night—they’re alone now, so he’s fine talking—as he tugs loose the tucked sheets to clamber into bed, and when Tom moves to turn off the light he adds, “No, you can keep reading.”

Tom sets his book down onto his chest and pulls his glasses off anyway. “Well, you and I are known for doing ‘good,’” he muses after a second. “We’re pretty universally renowned for being good at stuff. But, regarding what in particular? —Raising our kid?”

“Yeah. We did good.”

Actually, they didn’t do very well at all. But of course that’s not what Pete means. Pete means: it’s shocking and stunningly fortunate that they did as poorly as they did and still somehow ended up with such a good kid. Tom’s looking up at the ceiling and feeling very small. “How did that happen? Genuinely, how did that happen? I did always build getting married into my plan for my life—but I never thought far enough ahead to consider having kids. And now you and I have a kid who’s in his thirties. How’d that happen? I remember when he could barely walk!”

Pete yawns and rolls over onto his side and closes his eyes. “You and I have a kid who earned a Medal of Honor.”

“I know exactly how that happened” —and doesn’t like to think about it too much. “I suppose we’re just a family of overachievers. A lot of failing upwards, you and me. Somehow we failed our way upwards into a very happy lifelong relationship, a superstar kid…a few dozen medals each, ourselves…”

“That’s life,” says Pete sleepily.

“That is not most people’s lives. You’re aware that our lives look nothing like the average person’s life, right? You understand that?”

“That’s our life.”

Tom considers this. Yeah, it is their life. Wild how that happens. 

He smiles at the singular word life, sets his book on the nightstand, presses a kiss to Pete’s bare shoulder, and turns off the light.

[consultingunicorn22]

this is for the ask game! blood bound? im looking forward to the next chapter!

Wow! This took me a while, but here ya go! We're almost there...

After four hours in the car with Ice pushing a full water bottle on him—You need to stay hydrated, Mav—but not offering to stop, Mav was getting antsy. The paved highway had turned to a winding dirt road, which had turned into a smaller, meandering dirt lane up the side of a mountain, where a Jeep probably would have been a better choice than the Maverick. They passed through a metal gate and several posted signs reading Private Property: No Hunting, No Trespassing, and just kept going.    Mav squinted suspiciously at Ice. They were pretty far out of town. Ice could always do anything he wanted to Mav—the claim put him fully outside any relevant human laws—but out here, in the middle of nowhere, he could really feel it.   “How much property are we talking, Ice?” Mav asked. It had been a while since they’d left the main road. Ice just shrugged. “We’re almost there,” he offered.

[bobfloydsbabe]

Eeeep! I’m so excited that you’re sharing more of these two idiots!

This is so much fun, and I love the dynamics you portrayed in this small scene, especially how you incorporated Jas and her relationship with Jake. She and Audrey will be friends someday.

Coming Soon: dead ringer pt. 1

"Saw you made a friend," Javy quipped, smirking as Audrey slipped back into the seat between her roommates.

"Fuck off," Audrey dismissed, placing the hard-won pint down in front of her.

Javy's smirk only grew at this. "You know, it's that charm right there that makes you friends wherever you go."

Audrey's skin felt hot and tight--the same feeling she always got whenever Javy opened his mouth and produced noise. She would do just about anything to make him shut up for just one goddamn second.

Next to her, Clara sighed, pulling Audrey's attention away from the still smirking pilot and to her roommate.

"Audrey, if you make another guy cry in this bar, I think Penny might ban you," Clara said, leaning back in her seat to eye the group of boys who had stopped clapping but were still clearly ribbing their friend. "He looks close. His face is all red."

Jas snorted at this assessment. "It's not Audrey's fault that men can't handle rejection."

"That's true. If they were, there wouldn't be a bell," Layla added.

"The bell is rung a lot when you're here though," Bob observed, and Audrey glared at him.

"See? She's good for business!"Jas exclaimed, gesturing to Bob.

"You face that much disrespect?" Rooster asked, raising his eyebrows at Audrey.

"It's disrespectful for men to even speak," she quipped.

"Feminism, everybody," Javy said, raising his beer in toast.  

Audrey cast him a dark look before turning her body to face the rest of the table. "Why is he always here if no one likes him?"

"We let them invite you, don't we?" Jake asked, raising an eyebrow and gesturing to Clara and Layla.

Jas elbowed him sharply in his side as Phoenix warned: "Watch it Bagman."

"She was invited?" Javy asked in mock surprise. "I just assumed that one of you'd gone to the bathroom and said her name three times in the mirror."

Featuring: Jasmine Lane from @bobfloydsbabe & Clara Thomas & Layla Burton from @veetlegeuse

[goldenseresinretriever]

You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 20

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, dead parents, drunkenness, alcohol consumption, violence, sports violence, blood probably, angst, fluff, eventual smut, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, You Catch More Bees With Honey. It was originally posted in November-March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist

That night Jake calls for a team outing and Bradley is surprisingly not begrudging as he agrees to tag along despite the fact that usually he’d point out that he’d rather spend the evening with you. There’s one more game on New Year's Eve but the coaches are cutting the guys some slack since it’s the holidays. That’s how you find yourself glaring at your boyfriend as you line up next to each other and you strongly consider accidentally dropping your bowling ball on his foot.

It’s boys versus girls in neighboring lanes and you and Bradley have been tied for the better part of the game. Sure, Jake’s ahead of him, but this competition between the two of you supersedes the overall game. You’d be playing better but Javy had implemented a rule that dictated that you take a shot if you land a gutter ball and you’re more tipsy than you’d like to admit. Bradley, despite his multiple gutter balls, is built like a brick wall and therefore the shots have had little to no impact on his game. You’re beyond arguing the skewed fairness of the game and you’ve descended into quiet rage. You still lead the girls but that means nothing to you if you can’t beat Bradley and as you watch every pin in the lane next to you clatter to the floor with a satisfying crack you’re wondering how good you’d be at shotput. He turns to you, a cocky smile on his lips that dares you to match him.

Sure you and Bradley have a softer relationship but you both have a natural competitive edge that comes from growing up in the world of sports. Yours manifests more often in the form of your stubbornness but when a game does happen to be on the line you’re determined to win. As you scowl at Bradley you catch sight of Mickey smirking behind him. He knows better than to goad you when you’re in competitive mode. You take a deep breath in a poor attempt at collecting yourself. The alcohol is starting to dull your senses so when you release the ball in your hand it veers left, just barely clipping the furthest pin and saving you from another shot.

“You can still spare,” Bradley remarks and you glare daggers into him as you line up again. The sound of his soft chuckle only makes you frown harder and Mickey calls out from behind him.

“Hit them with the trick shot!” You turn around, your attention now on him as you consider his words. The trick shot in question is something you coined back in college when you and Mickey were out with his team and someone challenged the group to a round of bowling with a catch. Every shot had to be embellished in some kind of ostentatious and ridiculous way. The game had quickly devolved into chaos but you’d patented what went on to become your signature move.

“Trick shot?!” Javy exclaims. “Now we have to see it!” Then there’s a chorus of drunk hockey players chanting at you to show off the trick shot and you roll your eyes before you step back and slide your bowling shoes over the slick floor, testing the resistance. You should be able to pull it off even though it’s been years. You take a deep breath and bring the bowling ball up to your chest as your friends start to cheer. Despite your intoxicated state, in college you mastered being able to keep alcohol from affecting your skating technique so as you push into the spin that’s almost a pirouette letting the weight of the ball steady your center of gravity before you slide forward on your shoes across the slippery ground, extending your arm clutching the ball in a ramrod straight position and releasing the ball. You watch as it takes the speed your spin charged it with and barrels straight down the center of the lane before colliding with a satisfying crack and you smirk as the pins tumble in a wave. Behind you, the guys are going crazy and the girls are cheering. You’re about to turn and rub it in Bradley’s face when he scoops you up from behind, burying his face in your neck as he whispers into your ear.

“That’s my girl,” and you feel your cheeks heat as you lean into his touch before leaning up to whisper back in his ear.

“Afraid you’re going to lose?” His laugh vibrates through his chest against your back.

“Challenge accepted, Honey. What do I get if I win?” You can hear the tease in his voice as it rumbles against the shell of your ear and you suppress a shudder.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” you say, voice saccharine sweet, batting your lashes up at him. “Of course, the same goes if I win.”

“Deal,” Bradley says before turning you in his arms so he can kiss you and you can taste the alcohol on his tongue. You hear wolf whistles from behind you that you’re sure are Javy and Mickey as your cheeks heat slightly. Bradley rolls his eyes and pulls you back so the next people can take their turns, not letting you out of his arms quite yet.

***

You smirk across the packed booth at Bradley where he’s sulking over a beer. You’d moved on to a local karaoke bar you’d been to with Mickey and Bob before after the bowling concluded. Jake won for the boys and you won for the girls, Bradley trailing you by a measly two points. He was currently soothing the loss with alcohol as the others excitedly made their karaoke selections. His ruddy cheeks tell you he’s made up for his lack of shots during bowling and you gaze at him fondly thinking of the last time you saw him drunk. You bring a hand up to rub at your long-since-healed jaw and you catch Bradley’s eye as he flushes deeper at the memory.

“Zam, what are you going to sing?” A drunk Mickey interrupts your moment, thrusting the list at you but Bradley plucks it from his grasp, scrawling down his suggestion as your eyes widen with surprise. He’s drunk enough to let his guard down. You’ve heard him sing before, of course, but that was in the privacy of his car and along with the radio. You never pegged Bradley as a performer when it comes to music but absently you remember the baby grand piano in his living room that you’d written off as merely ostentatious decoration. He gets to his feet without a second glance and takes the list back up to the front, ignoring Mickey’s protests that you haven’t signed up yet. He pushes over to where Jake and Javy are arguing over who’s going first and takes charge of the kiosk as they gape at him. You're all watching Bradley with varying degrees of surprise as the alcohol in his veins fuels this bout of confidence.

He grips the microphone, ascending the small stage next to the bar you danced on the last time you were here as the familiar opening guitar riff of “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” by Meatloaf fills the bar and he fixes a hard gaze on you as you realize what he has in mind and you smile, nodding at him.

“Well, I remember every little thing as if it only happened only yesterday,” your crowd of friends erupt into rowdy cheers as Bradley croons into the microphone. He reaches out to crook a finger at you and you bounce to your feet, reaching him just in time for him to lean down with the microphone so you can join the harmonies.

“Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night, I can see paradise by the dashboard light.” He reaches his free hand down to you to help you onto the stage before passing you the microphone.

“Ain't no doubt about it we were doubly blessed, 'cause we were barely seventeen and we were barely dressed.” You sing as he grabs the second microphone. You know it’s an almost nine-minute song but Bradley doesn’t show any signs of slowing as you join the performance, your friends going wild from the table.

Mickey brings you both a glass of water as the spoken interlude takes over and the two of you refresh before the next part of the song. You hand him back the glass just in time for you to take the lead.

“Stop right there! I gotta know right now! Before we go any further! Do you love me?” You meet Bradley’s eyes with a fiery gaze as you crow the lyrics. “Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me? Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?” You see something shift in his eyes through the alcohol-induced haze as you continue. “Do you love me!? Will you love me forever!? Do you need me!? Will you never leave me!? Will you make me happy for the rest of my life!? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife!? I gotta know right now. Before we go any further, do you love me!? Will you love me forever!?” You step up to him, getting into his face as a part of your performance as your friends lose their minds and the other patrons cheer. Bradley nods softly and it steals your breath as he takes over.

“Let me sleep on it. Baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it and I'll give you an answer in the morning. Let me sleep on it. Baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it and I'll give you an answer in the morning. Let me sleep on it baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it and I'll give you an answer in the morning.” The intensity in his eyes as he falls to his knees is at odds with the words he’s singing and you know he’s promising the opposite of his words as you continue to play your part, tossing the words from earlier back at him in a back and forth.

“Will you love me forever?” You demand.

“Let me sleep on it.” He begs.

“Will you love me forever!” You can’t keep the grin off your face.

Bradley gets off his knees and you feel your heart catch as he crows the next part, his voice blowing you away. “I couldn't take it any longer, Lord I was crazed. And when the feeling came upon me like a tidal wave, I started swearing to my god and on my mother's grave that I would love you to the end of time. I swore that I would love you to the end of time!” Your heart flutters at the sweet words falling from his lips as you watch him with awe and you wonder if this is the Bradley that Logan, Alex, and Wyatt knew in Philadelphia. “So now I'm praying for the end of time to hurry up and arrive 'cause if I gotta spend another minute with you I don't think that I can really survive. I'll never break my promise or forget my vow, but God only knows what I can do right now.” His amber eyes burn into you and you can’t help but simply stand in awe of him. “I'm praying for the end of time, it's all that I can do. Praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you!” The crowd does wild and you join them before joining Bradley for the last few bars as the song faded away in true 70s fashion. The crowd in the bar roars as Bradley takes you in his arms and kisses you hard, dipping you in front of the crowd and the whoops and cheers echo off the walls. This feels like a beginning, a new chapter and you’re excited to see where it goes as your teammates storm the stage, tackling the two of you with hugs and more cheers. You laugh and you don’t remember the last time your heart felt so light. Looking over at Bradley you can see the same thing expressed in his eyes and you feel like you’re finally home.

***

“It’s PINK,” Bradley says for what must be the fifth time and you nod yet again. He’s gazing at the fabric spread out on the bed.

“Technically it’s salmon,” you point out and he just gapes at you. You shrug, not an ounce of mercy in your eyes. “A deal’s a deal, Brashaw.” You watch the fear grip his features before you push up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re going to look amazing.”

It’s New Year’s Eve and spirits are high at the arena. The boys are playing their last game of the year tonight and the locker room is buzzing. The boys have tomorrow off since the only game on New Year’s Day is the Winter Classic. You’re waiting patiently outside the locker room for Bradley. You hear a crow of pure delight from Javy on the other side of the door and you smirk as you imagine his reaction. A few moments later the door swings open and Javy’s wearing a feral smile as he wraps you in a hug.

“I love you, you know that right? It’s like Christmas all over again!” You roll your eyes as you hug him back. The door swings open again and Bradley appears, his cheeks ruddy and matching the salmon suit that makes him cut a dashing figure. His eyes widen as he sees that you’re dressed in a similar shade, the suit new, and you smile at him shyly.

“I thought we could match,” you say with a shrug and he smiles softly for the first time all night. He’s forgone a tie and his shirt is slightly open, exposing his throat and a sliver of his chest that makes your heart flutter in your chest. His curls are perfectly styled and his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides let you know he’s making an active effort to not run them through his hair. “You look so handsome,” you compliment him as you cross over to wrap your arms around him and his cheeks turn red for a different reason. His relaxes a little under your touch but you can tell he’s still uncomfortable. “I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable,” you whisper so just he can hear, guilt gnawing at your chest slightly even as you’re elated that he complied. After losing at bowling the other day, Bradley was at your mercy to do whatever you wanted. Likely he expected it to be something sexual as the two of you can barely keep your hands off each other these days, but you’d surprised him by asking him to let you choose his suit for their next game. You claimed it was retribution for how much he used to hate your suits, to which he reminded you was no longer his opinion on them.

He wraps his arms around you in return, burying his nose in your neck as he strokes your back gently. “Are you happy?” He asks and it’s genuine. You nod against him.

“Very,” you feel his lips tilt up into a smile against your skin.

“Then I’m okay.” He says and your heart aches. He pulls away and bumps your nose against his, gently. “Shall we go?” You nod, and the locker room door swings open and the other guys start filtering out in their suits. Jake’s eyes soften as he takes in the two of you.

“You guys look adorable,” he compliments, fishing out his phone to snap a picture and Bradley doesn’t argue.

“Oh my god, you guys!” Bugs exclaims as he comes around the corner, hearts in her eyes as she takes in your matching outfits.

“We have to do that sometime.” Jake agrees as he finishes with his pictures. Bugs agrees enthusiastically. “And you need to wear his jersey sometime,” Jake points out to you.

“Oh don’t worry, I have,” you say with a cheeky smile that makes Javy whoop with excitement even as Bradley squeezes your waist. The guys start moving to go get their photos taken before the pre-game press and you lean your head against Bradley’s shoulder. “Good luck, tonight.” You murmur and he leans to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I have my good luck charm, I’ll be fine.” You giggle at that and he pulls you close.

***

Laughter and music are echoing off the walls of Jake’s house. The living room is full of teammates and their families with a combination of children and animals weaving between legs. After the game, everyone met up here to welcome the new year before they’ll eventually head out to enjoy having New Year's Day off. You’re standing in Bradley’s arms, listening to Bob explain the myth of Alaska having six months of darkness. You glance up and you can tell that Bradley’s far away so you gently tug on his sleeve and lead him out the back door to get some air. Jake’s backyard opens out onto a semi-private beach and you slip your hand into Bradley’s as the two of you make your way across the sand. You ditched your heels by the door ages ago and the sand feels cool under your feet. You can’t help but remember the last two times you and Bradley found yourself on the beach as you’re drawn towards the water.

The water is cold as it laps as your toes and you skirt back as Bradley stares wordlessly out at the sea. “Everything okay?” You ask softly as he turns at your words. There’s something you can’t place in his eyes and you’re about to push him gently for an answer when he drops to one knee and your eyes widen. “Bradley. Bradshaw.” Your voice is shaking as you admonish him. His eyes are soft as he squeezes your joined hands.

“I’m not proposing,” he assures you and you let out a shaky breath, “not yet.” He says with a brazen, boyish grin and it steals the breath from your lungs. “But I do want to make you a promise, because you’re it for me, Honey. There’s no one I’ve ever loved more than I love you and like I told you, you’re my family. I will always stand by you and protect you. You’re my everything, and one day I’m going to ask you to be my wife.” Your eyes are full of tears as this perfect man is once again on his knees for you, offering you the whole world. “There’s nothing in my life that’s more important to me. Not myself, not hockey. I don’t believe in fate, but I feel like our moms masterminded this and sent us to each other. I’ve never been so thankful, that I get to love you in this lifetime. A few months ago I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to live anymore and now I don’t think there’s anything I’d rather do than spend every single day I possibly can with you.” He lets go of your hand then, reaching down to shape the damp sand beside him and you smile through the tears cascading down your cheeks as he makes the little sandman, shaping the body and then scooping up twigs and fragments of shells to adorn it. The surf licks up, dampening his pants where he kneels but he’s undeterred. When he finally dusts off his hands after, he stands taking both your hands in his. “You’re my dream, Honey, and I think it’s going to be the sweetest one I’ve ever had.” You smile at him and as he kisses you, you think he might be right.