#this time before he was a pilot because I didn’t know what else to do with this sketch
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bluebellwrenart · 2 years ago
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Back on my Strangereal!Sulejmani agenda
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stevieschrodinger · 5 months ago
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Part One
There’s a Beta standing in Eddie’s doorway. She’s slim, choppy ginger hair and red boots poking out from under the cuffs of her denim dungarees – Eddie likes her pretty much immediately.
She’s holding a plate.
She hasn’t managed to speak yet, but from down the hall, Eddie hears a voice hiss, “Robin!”
They both turn to look. The Omega of Eddie’s dreams face and...tummy...are both poking out of the doorway. He looks mortified.
“So sorry,” the Beta starts, “Steve was too embarrassed to come and ask a second time, but he’s basically had his nose pressed to the door for the past half an hour so…” she holds out the plate.
From down the hall, very faintly, the Omega, who Eddie now knows must be called ‘Steve,’ whines, “why are you like this,” and then clicks the door shut.
“I’m Robin, by the way,” and she holds out her non plate hand to shake.
Eddie ends up shaking one hand and taking the plate from the other. Eddie knew, objectively, that Steve must have a partner, but he still has to squish the disappointment of meeting them. “Eddie...just, give me a second. It’s chicken parm.”
Eddie goes and dishes up a portion, it was going to be tomorrows lunch but...he can’t deny the pretty little Omega anything. Maybe he should start cooking extra extras, even if Steve doesn’t come knocking, at least it’s a meal he can have another time.
“This is one of his favorites, no wonder he was so restless about it.”
“Yeah, well, anytime,” and Eddie could add that Robin should be making Steve’s favorites, but he doesn’t because he’s pretty sure Robin is cool and he already knows Steve is sweet and he’s just not that kind of person.
Much.
“I’m sorry, you’ve done what to the pulled pork?”
“Orange and Oregano, trust me Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind.”
“Uh hu, and someone else's by the look of it, you’ve cooked enough for us and that Omega guy twice over.” Eddie just rolls his eyes. “You got all your shit put away then?”
“Pretty much, and leave that alone.”
Dustin huffs but puts the spoon down and replaces the lid on the crock pot, “what are we having with it?”
“Was going to do dirty fries.”
“Oh my god. You’re a saint. A hero. You should be knighted like ye olde dragon-slayers of yore-”
“Yeah yeah, this will not score you any extra loot later.”
“Mayhap a smidgen of exper-” Dustin stops at the sound of knocking, looking to the door. “Is it your Omega?” He whisper hisses at Eddie.
“He’s not mine, he’s got a girlfriend,” Eddie whisper hisses back.
Doesn’t stop him pulling his shirt straight and tugging at his jeans and fluffing his hair real quick on the way to the door. All of that is kind of...reflexive, though.
Dustin’s smirk is actually slap worthy, and Eddie will get to that right after he answers the door.
“I am so sorry about this,” Steve is saying before Eddie even has the door fully open, “and I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I thought I could at least contribute.” He’s holding two plates, one empty, one stacked up with cookies, “they’re Reese’s.”
And Eddie’s mouth is watering, not just from the scent of Steve, but because he can see the chunks of partially melted Reese's pieces sticking out of the cookies, “they look incredible, thank you,” Eddie takes both plates, “it’s not actually ready yet, can I drop it by in like, thirty minutes?”
“Oh you are my hero,” Steve beams at him. It’s a happy smile, a smile that comes with the scent of pleased Omega. Happy Omega. Happy Omega with pup. The kind of smile and scent that digs it’s hooks deep into Eddie’s brain and fucking yanks.
“It’s pulled pork, would you rather fries or rice?” Eddie finds himself asking, completely on auto pilot.
“Whatever is easiest. Whatever you were already planning. Thank you so so much Eddie.”
Eddie watches Steve waddle back to his apartment down the hall before he turns, a plate in each hand, and nudges the door closed with his foot.
“Thank you so much Eddie. I made you cookies Eddie,” Dustin simpers from the couch, before making kissey noises.
“Oh shut the fuck up.”
Eddie stands in the hallway in his crocs. His apartment is new, so he has a strict no shoes policy; but he has a pair of crocs for in the hall and heading outside real quick. Also, they're comfortable as fuck, so Eddie refuses to be judged.
Especially since they’re black, and Dustin got him all these little button things that pop in the holes. Little swords and shields and D20’s and stuff. So they’re super cool.
Steve opens the door, wincing, one hand resting on the small of his back, but his face blooms back into the beautiful smile at the sight of Eddie. It does something, very briefly, to Eddie. That reaction. And then he viciously reminds himself that the reaction was for Eddie’s food and not at all for Eddie himself.
Steve goes to take the plate but, “it’s hot, I warmed the plate up in the stove, let me put it down somewhere for you?” A trick Eddie learned in his month of working in a kitchen one Christmas when he was a teenager, but it never left him, and he didn't want Steve’s dinner to go cold.
“Oh, gosh, you’re so thoughtful Eddie, come right in.”
Eddie’s heart gives a little flutter at Steve’s praise, and Steve shifts out of the way, letting Eddie into an apartment that’s a mirror of his own. It’s very neat and tidy inside; everything very clearly has a place. Nothing looks brand new, but everything does look well cared for.
Steve directs Eddie to the little two seater dining table, where there’s a place set. It’s so freaking adorable, a place mat with flowers and kittens printed on it, a white folded napkin, cutlery and a glass of juice set out. A single daffodil in a tiny vase.
Eddie puts the plate down carefully, turning to see Steve blushing furiously. “Sorry, I don’t get out much and I wanted to make it nice.”
“Don’t be sorry, it’s cute,” Eddie says, even as he feels himself grow irritated yet again with Robin, Steve’s nose twitches, eyeing Eddie with concern, so he does his best to push it down, “well,” Eddie tries his best to be cheerful, “I really hope you enjoy it. Maybe your girlfriend will take you out tomorrow?” He tries to say that with no hint of spite whatsoever.
Steve blinks at him, “girlfriend?”
“Robin? I thought...aren’t you two..?”
Steve snorts a laugh, actually ugly laughs and snorts like a cute little piggy and has to bring his hand up to his face to try and hide his reaction, “no. No, she’s my best friend. She’s home with her girlfriend.”
“Oh.” Eddie says, processing, “oh. Right sorry, I just, assumed…” he can’t stop his eyes from, briefly, flicking to Steve’s tummy.
“It’s okay,” Steve’s smiling at him, “you can ask.”
“Well...I mean when I thought you were with Robin I just assumed you���d used a donor or…”
“Yep!” Steve pops the ‘P’. “I did do that, and I did go to the appointments with Robin, but I’m single. Going it alone.”
And then Steve does quite possibly the sexiest thing Eddie’s ever seen in his entire life; he bares his throat, “see, no bite.”
Eddie has to clear his throat and shift a little where he's standing, lest his inconvenient biological reaction become overly obvious, “why did you decide to, uhm…”
Steve shrugs, smiling happily, “guess I just never was lucky enough to meet the right Alpha.”
And then Steve’s tummy rumbles very aggressively.
“I’ll let you eat your-”
“Gosh excuse me I’m-”
They speak at the same time, and then both end up laughing.
“I’ll leave you to your dinner,”
“Thanks again Eddie, I really do appreciate it.”
Part three
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s-awturn · 3 months ago
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Other Plans || F1 Grid
cw: babies being cute, still a little anguish, overcoming, deliverance (hehehehe) and I don't know what else to say. Spanish, French, and some poorly translated Dutch, blame Google.
starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1,
a/n: I rarely get requests for part 2, so don't judge me if I'm excited here. I loved writing the first part and I hope to make the second part just as good.
f i r s t p a r t
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LEWIS HAMILTON.
You never regretted leaving.
As you might have guessed, Lewis never called or cared and even though you knew he wouldn't call, it didn't hurt any less. You had hopes that he would care, that he would come around, but he never took a step towards you and you wouldn't make the first move. You and the baby — a healthy, restless girl —didn’t need him.
The first few months were not easy, by God, dealing with all the changes of pregnancy, the demands of work, as well as cleaning and organizing your home was the hardest thing in the world.
But it was all worth it when you held your little girl in your arms for the first time. Bree was beautiful and had powerful lungs, because she cried so loudly when you laughed with happiness at having her. Not even the fact that she had the same eyes as Lewis shook his happiness. She was yours, and nothing in the world would change that.
You, your mother and Bree were walking down one of the streets of London looking for Christmas decorations, Bree was on your lap, looking at everything curiously, you hadn't taken her to London yet, both because you wanted her to get used to the climate and the quiet life in Naples and because of fear, you still didn't feel ready to face Lewis, because you knew he was always in England, mainly in the capital.
“Mamma, look!” she pointed to the store across the street, with the Christmas decorations you were looking for. You gave a proud smile and kissed her cheek.
“Good job, little bee, let’s go get our colorful balls from Santa Claus” you crossed the street and due to carelessness, you ended up tripping over someone. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t y-...” you started to say, however your voice trailed off as you recognized fucking Lewis Hamilton.
“Y/N?” His eyes, identical to Bree’s, widened as he recognized you and the baby in your arms. You straightened up, hugging Bree against you.
“Lewis, how are you?” you said cordially, but there was no sympathy in your voice.
“Mhmm, Well, I'm fine... And you?”
“Wonderfully,” you remained impassive. “Well, Merry Christmas, Lewis,” you said, walking past him until your name was called by the pilot.
“I thought you would give me news...” he hesitated for a few seconds “news about her” Lewis’ eyes fell on Bree, who was looking at him with the same curiosity.
“And why should I, Lewis? You said you didn’t want to have a baby, that it would hinder your career.” You hit a nerve with Lewis, because since your departure, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing. “I had no obligation and have no obligation to give you news about my daughter.”
He came closer and you kept Bree away from him, you accepted and healed from the pain Lewis caused you, but you wouldn't allow him to do the same to your sweet little girl. Bree didn't deserve to be hurt by Lewis's selfishness.
“She’s mine too, Y/N, you can’t stop me from seeing her” he said and you finally lost your patience, so you asked your mother to take Bree to the store, you would meet them in a few minutes.
“Don’t use that horrible argument with me, Lewis Hamilton!” you pointed your finger in his face. “You made it clear that you didn’t want her! You never called to find out about her, not for me or my mother, so don’t come with ‘she’s mine too’ because I won’t fall for that! You didn't even think twice before saying you didn't want her! And now you want to demand your rights? What the fuck rights do you think you have?”
He took a step back, Lewis didn't expect you to have such an intense outburst of anger.
“Y/N, I-I wanted to turn things around, go after you,” he bit his lip, thinking about how to continue, “but I was embarrassed... But now I'm willing-...”
“But I’m not willing, Bree doesn’t need you, I don’t.” you said emphatically “My daughter doesn’t need you, your regret or anything that comes from you!”
He tried to articulate some sentence, but no sound came out of his mouth.
“Oh, that is if you have any shame, of course. But don’t worry, when Bree grows up, I’ll tell her about you and she’ll decide whether she wants you in her life or not.” You assured “Until then, continue being the ghost you have been for these two years”
And without giving him a chance to respond, you follow your mother and Bree into the store, trying to ignore the panic that was ravaging your entire body, you felt like you were about to faint. But hearing Bree's spontaneous, sweet laugh was like feeling a cool breeze on a hot day; you didn't know how, but you were sure that Lewis would stay away.
And you didn't lie, Bree didn't need him, and neither did you. Your job was more than enough to maintain and take care of all of Bree's needs, you didn't lie when you said he wasn't needed, in nothing.
Finally you could sleep peacefully knowing that Lewis was what he wanted to be in your lives, a shadow.
On the sidewalk, Lewis saw you enter the store and through the window, he could see you and Bree together, it was clear how much the little girl was loved and well cared for. Lewis tried to imagine what the two years he had lost of his life, of the life of the daughter whose name he didn't even know, had been like. He thought of all the little moments he had missed.
There were few things Lewis truly regretted in his life, and letting you go and not being able to see Bree grow up was, without a doubt, the biggest regret he carried.
CARLOS SAINZ.
Sometimes you wondered how you had the courage to consider the idea of giving your twins up for adoption. You weren't lying when you said that the twins were the best part of your life. At five years old, the identical twins made your days in the French capital — the city you moved to after breaking up with Carlos — much happier and more joyful.
You didn't even care if the two of them were little carbon copies of the Carlos; Santiago, the older twin, seemed to have inherited much of Carlos' personality, he was a little reserved and even shy and loved board games, preferred books to any electronic game and loved football, while Martín had a lot of you in him, expansive and restless, your youngest son loves logic games like Rubik's cube and puzzles and was completely addicted to any kind of racing.
And they were little fanatical Atlético de Madrid fans, which you found sweet irony.
And it was this love for the Spanish club that convinced you to take them to Spain, so that the two could watch the Madrid Derby at the Cívitas Metropolitano, Atlético's official stadium in the city of Madrid. Thanks to your work as a digital influencer, you could give your twins the experience of watching the game directly from the stadium's box.
“C'est le meilleur cadeau d'anniversaire au monde! Merci maman!” (This is the best birthday present in the world! Thanks mommy!) Martín said, hugging you before running to the fence and seeing the field, where the players were warming up.
“Tu es la meilleure au monde, maman” (You are the best in the world, mommy) Santiago said before joining his brother at the railing. You sat down next to Andie.
“I didn’t think you were serious when you said you were going to bring them to Madrid just to watch the game,” her best friend said, also keeping her eyes on the twins.
“It’s their birthday and I had to come to Madrid anyway for work, so I thought I could combine business with pleasure... And I don’t plan on stopping my boys from having good experiences because of Carlos.”
In five years, you never received a text or call from Carlos to see how the twins were doing, or to see how you were handling things. Since their birth, it had been you, the twins, and Andie —she moved to Paris as well. You weren't lying, the first few months were horrible, you truly believed that you wouldn't be a good mother or be able to take care of two babies at the same time.
But Andie was an angel to you and your boys, helping you through the best and worst times. So much so that before long, Carlos was just an old and unwanted memory in your life.
When the game went into halftime, you and Andie took the boys to the snack bar in the box to get something to eat. You hadn't noticed that you were being watched since you entered the diner, Carlos had seen you, Andie and the boys entering. The pilot didn't expect to find you there, especially with two boys who looked like they were five years old.
Without thinking twice, he approached, keeping his eyes on the boys who wore Atlético shirts and their names on the back.
Santiago and Martín.
“Y/N?” he said fearfully, catching her attention. Carlos saw surprise flash in her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by icy indifference. "How long"
“That’s right, it’s been a long time.” You placed your hands on the boys’ shoulders, aware that they were both shocked.
“C'est Carlos Sainz” Martín spoke softly to Santiago with wide eyes, not that Carlos was his favorite pilot, but the boy didn't expect you to know the pilot.
“These are Martín and Santiago, my sons.” You said, introducing the boys, watching the astonishment appear on Sainz’s face.
“What’s up guys? Enjoying the game?” he said, after a few seconds of shock. You knew what was going on in his head, Carlos was doing the math.
“We don’t talk to Real Madrid fans,” Santiago said with indifference and pulled Martín away from Carlos. You were so surprised that you laughed out loud, watching Carlos’ discomfort grow even more.
“I’m going after the brats and… And I think you guys need to talk,” Andie said, following the twins back to the to their seats.
You turned completely to Carlos, for a long time you missed him, especially when you wanted him to see the boys' first steps or when they spoke for the first time. You wanted him to see how special and good your children were, but he never cared.
It took a while, but eventually it stopped hurting.
Since then, all you felt was pity, because Martín and Santiago were absurdly adorable, loving and incredible children, anyone who could have them in their lives was lucky as hell.
“I didn't think I would go through with the pregnancy" he said and you sighed.
“And I wasn’t going to, but everything changed when I held them in my arms for the first time... I knew I could never leave them” you said and a smile appeared on your face.
“My parents would love to meet you... I would like to-” He starts to say but you interrupt him, already tired of that conversation.
“You wouldn’t like anything, Carlos, you have nothing to offer my boys but abandonment and cowardice,” you replied harshly.
He swallowed hard, Carlos looked embarrassed and regretful, but you didn't care, just like he didn't care about leaving you alone in that hospital.
“Y/N please understand, I wasn’t ready and-”
“I wasn’t either, Carlos,” you interrupted him, having no patience for his excuses. “I was simply thrown alone, in the middle of the hurricane, so if that’s your excuse, improve it.”
Your gaze towards him was hard, there really was nothing that could justify abandoning him.
“If it weren’t for Andie, I don’t even know where I would be right now! Maybe they’d both be in an orphanage or something, living on the streets.” Your voice was forceful, punishing, and accurate. “I almost, almost acted like a coward with them too, but I remembered that they had already lost their father, they couldn't be without their mother too.”
Carlos hunched over slightly, like you had just hit him in the face and damn, he wished you had.
“I will tell them about you, everything they want to know and if they want to look for you, I will not stop them, but until then, do not think that your presence near them will be welcome”
And you went back to where Andie and the boys were, you were surprised to notice that Martín hadn't taken his eyes off you for a moment. Your protective little boy...
You swallowed a painful sigh and stopped the tears from welling up in your eyes.
“Est-ce qu'il t'a fait du mal, maman?” (Did he hurt you, mommy?) He asked as soon as you sat down, you gave a calm smile and denied.
“It’s okay, honey, don’t worry.” you assured, sliding your fingers through his hair, Martín kept his eyes on you. “Are you enjoying the game?”
“Damn!” he said excitedly and you narrowed your eyes.
“What language is that, young man?” you asked, and he smiled as if he had been caught red-handed.
“It was an accident, mommy... Don't be mad, please,” he asked, making the same lost puppy face that Carlos had. My God, you thought it was impossible for them to look so much alike, but the twins were in fact carbon copies of Carlos.
“Go watch the game, I’m watching you” he nodded and ran to Santiago’s side, you sighed and saw Andie sit next to you. “I thought it would be worse”
“Me too... But you did well, to be honest, I thought you were going to throw the chair at him” Andie confessed and you laughed.
“Almost... I'll tell them the truth when we get back to Paris... And I'll let them decide whether they want to approach him or not.” you said, trying to keep your nervousness from setting in ahead of schedule. You would deal with the consequences when they came, that moment was just about the boys, would not spoil it with anxious thoughts and nervousness.
On the other side of the box, Carlos couldn't pay attention to the game, his mind was divided between the game and you and the twins. Carlos thought about how selfish he had been, he thought about how he would like to go back in time and change everything, to be able to live every little moment with you and the boys.
Carlos would like to be less stupid, but there was no way anymore.
CHARLES LECLERC.
After almost seven years, you were back in France, your parents were asking — or demanding, depending on your point of view — that you and Vivienne spend Mother's Day in the south of France. It was the first time since Vivienne was born that you had returned to Europe and although you loved the feeling of being home again, you couldn't help but be apprehensive, after all you didn't know if you were prepared for the possibility of meeting Charles. But you didn't let those thoughts ruin Vivienne's experience, the girl looked like she was going to explode at any moment with so much happiness.
The two of you took the train from Paris to Bordeaux, and Vivienne couldn't tear herself away from the window, enchanted by the romantic landscape of the French countryside, she commented on every little thing, unable to contain the excitement that made her shine.
“Let’s go to the dining car, amour, You need to eat.” You called her, trying to attract the girl’s attention, who seemed much more interested in the castle that disappeared through the train window.
“Will there be croissants, maman?” Vivienne finally turned away from the window.
“Of course, amour. Let’s go before they eat it all, shall we?” you led her out into the hallway, Vivienne chattered on and on, listing the things she had liked the most so far, that's why she still made a point of greeting the other passengers.
“It’s more beautiful here than Montreal, Mom...”
“Would you like to live here?”
She stopped in the hallway for a few seconds before turning to you, the indecision was clear on her little face “I don’t think so, I would miss home... And my friends, but we can come on vacation?”
“We can come to France whenever possible, amour.” you assured her.
The dining car was half full, but that wasn't what caught his attention, but rather coming across such familiar crystal-clear eyes. You knew the chances of meeting Charles in France were 50-50, but you didn't expect it to happen so quickly; suddenly you remembered why you spent so long away from your homeland. You saw Charles' smile disappear and his gaze fall on the girl in front of him, who, although she didn't look exactly like him, carried many of Leclerc's features in her own features.
“Let's sit at the table by the window, okay maman?” Vivienne asked, skipping over to the empty table, she didn’t even look to the side as she passed Charles.
"Of course, papillon, (butterfly) we can sit wherever you want.” You said, thankful that your voice came out steady, without showing the mess that was inside you.
You made Vivienne sit with her back to Charles, listening to the girl talk excitedly about the fields full of vineyards and the lavender plantations. Vivienne knew from the age of five because it was just you and her, you didn't want to wait too long to tell her the truth behind why just you were the one who went to the Father's Day presentations at her school. You remembered the pain tearing through your chest as you comforted your little girl who went to sleep crying for weeks on end, or all the times she asked why her father didn't like her. You wouldn't let anything bring that pain to Vivienne again, even if you had to throw Charles Leclerc out the train window.
“You’re not the waiter.” Vivienne’s inquisitive voice snapped you out of your reverie and you looked up to find Charles standing next to your table. Panic spread through you like wildfire. Vivienne knew that the man standing next to the table was her father, you didn't do much to hide it. “If you’re not the waiter, why did you come?”
“You have your mother’s sharp tongue,” he said, and you noticed the shadow of a smile on his face. “I’m Charles—”
“Leclerc, I know, I watch TV” she said, crossing her fingers on the table, you blinked a little dazed and took control of the situation, Vivienne didn't need to face a situation like that, not with you around to protect her, as you had been doing since her birth.
“What do you want, Charles?” you questioned seriously, the seven years away from him made you create a strong shield against the pilot's charm. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at you, there was no anger or contempt in his gaze, it had taken you the same seven years to understand that it had all been a huge failure in communication, however, that did not allow this to cause any more harm to Vivienne.
“I...” he stuttered, his gaze going from you to Vivienne without stopping “I came to greet you and...” he left the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for you or your daughter to reveal her name.
“You don’t need to know my name,” Vivienne said and your eyes widened.
You saw Charles' mouth open in pure astonishment, if you weren't expecting an answer like that, imagine him.
“What do you want, Charles? I don’t remember inviting you to join us,” you teased, enjoying his discomfort. You could forgive what had happened years ago, after all it wasn't anyone's fault he didn't want kids, but you fucking couldn't forget how it destroyed Vivienne for weeks. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you, and you are disturbing us.”
“Y/N I wanted to say that I'm sorry that all of this happened and...” his voice becomes a weak and distant thread, you just shake your head and raise your hand.
“There is nothing to be forgiven, Charles. That's in the past, there's no reason to bring it up again," you said sincerely, letting out a tired sigh. You wanted it to end soon, you wanted to get to Bordeaux soon. “Forget about it, leave everything in the past and go back to your girlfriend, we've been fine the last seven years without you, the next seven will be even easier, don't waste time worrying about us, we don't need you.”
He hadn't meant to be cruel or rude, but he wouldn't allow a sliver of it to reach Vivienne. Charles just nodded and walked away, you looked at Vivienne, who had tears in her eyes.
“Ma princesse,” you grabbed her hand, watching the little girl swallow her tears and give a weak smile.
“It’s okay, mom, I have you, it’s okay,” she said and went back to looking at the landscape through the window. You noticed that Charles had left. “I don’t need a father who didn’t want me”
You left the chair you were in and went to hug Vivienne, letting the girl feel how much she was loved, how much she didn't need Charles “I'm so proud of you, darling, so proud”
Outside, Charles was hyperventilating, he hadn't expected it to end like this, nor had he expected it to feel like a punch to his stomach. Suddenly, he questioned whether the choices he had made over the past seven years were good. But it didn't matter anymore, he had lost you and any chance of having... Having a family he never wanted.
It was already too late.
LANDO NORRIS.
Jordan looked at the cupcake with bright eyes, you wanted to cry when you saw the smile on your little boy's face. It was late afternoon and you wanted Jordan to be able to celebrate his first birthday on the beach, creating sand castles and playing with water.
“Happy birthday, my baby, I wish you to be blessed with happiness and love throughout your life.” you whispered, helping him blow out the candle. Jordan chuckled, grabbing the icing, smearing the blue sweetness all over his face. You let Jordan play in the sand and thought about everything that led them to that little beach in Spain.
After breaking up with Lando and receiving a court order that he didn't want to be related to you or the baby, you didn't know what to do with your life, I had a college degree, good internship experiences, but no one would hire a pregnant woman. With limited options and no support network, you've relied on the most unstable form of work: the internet. Your life wasn't the most glamorous or adventurous in the world, but people enjoyed watching you. You didn't care about fame or being known in places, you just wanted to make sure you could take care of the baby, make sure he always had a roof over his head and food on the table. No matter what shit you would do to make sure Jordan lacked for nothing.
Anything but crawling after Lando, begging for help or whatever the hell he could give.
You let Jordan play until he got tired, and only when the boy was almost asleep in the sand, you picked him up and decided to go back to the hotel. You balanced Jordan on your lap as you searched for your room key when you heard your name being called. You didn't expect to find Lando Norris in the lobby of the hotel you were staying at.
Not even by a miracle.
“What do you want here, Norris?” you asked, but you didn’t give him time to answer, you just continued on your way to the elevator. You heard him follow you and kept Jordan out of his sight.
“I want to talk to you,” he said tentatively. You stood in the opposite corner of the elevator, as far away from Lando as possible. “Is it his birthday?”
“And why does that matter to you, Norris? You’re nothing to him,” you said dryly, giving him a hard look.
He didn't even know what to answer, you couldn't understand what he was doing there, not after a year and seven months, not after that damn letter. What did he want there? Guarantee you wouldn't ask him for money? Ridiculous.
“If you want to know if I need your money, don’t worry, we don’t need anything from you”
Lando exhaled, you wouldn't give him a step, leaving him frustrated.
“I didn’t come for this... I know you’re... You’re dealing with everything well, I wanted...”
“What do you want, Norris? To see if I'm trying to scam someone to support my son? Being a gold digger?”
“Y/N I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, been...”
“What do you regret? Saying that I got pregnant so you could support me? That I wanted to pull the pregnancy scam on you? Or have you come to give me another court notice to deny your parentage with Jordan? If that's the case, don't worry, if it's up to me, your name will never be on Jordan's birth certificate.”
If shame had a portrait, it would be Lando's face.
“Please understand my side...”
“Your side, Norris? I was pregnant and you sent me away!!” you growled, trying not to wake Jordan in your arms. “I didn’t want money, I wanted support! I wanted you!”
You scoffed at the tears in his eyes, none of them made up for the times you cried alone, scared of the uncertain future you could have. If he thought you would be moved by his crying, he couldn't be more wrong. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, not caring about him following you.
“I’m sorry, I was scared!”
“I was too!” you lost your patience and heard Jordan’s whimpers. “Were you scared? Don’t be a hypocrite, Lando.”
“Let me... Let me apologize, let me take care of you two.”
“You can swallow your apologies, they’re worth nothing to me or Jordan, and as for your care…” you laughed “I won’t tell you what to do with it out of respect for my son.”
And with that, you slammed the door in his face. Hoping that Lando would go back to the same place he had come from.
MAX VERSTAPPEN.
Just as nothing hurt you more than Max's distrust, Annelise's birth healed you in immeasurable ways. The little girl became the little Sun in your world, illuminating corners you thought you would no longer visit after the breakup with Max.
When you left his house in Monaco, you spent a few days on standby, thinking about what to do, you had no one else to support you. You didn't know how, but before you knew it, you were standing on Sophie's doorstep in Belgium, you didn't expect to have the support of your ex-mother-in-law, but Sophie welcomed you with open arms, outraged by Max's attitude.
Sophie welcomed you as if you were her own daughter, helped you choose an apartment in Brussels — even though she wanted you to stay with her for as long as it took, she helped you in the first few months after Annelise was born.
Now, two years later, Annelise was spending so much time at her grandmother's house that Sophie had set up a room for her.
“Sophie, for God’s sake, don’t spoil Anne like that,” you scolded her, seeing the woman click her tongue and shrug, you knew your sermons would do no good, Sophie would continue buying gifts for Annelise.
“Nah, it’s nothing big and you know I’m not stopping any time soon,” she admitted, bouncing the little girl on her lap, Annelise was very entertained by the new teddy bear Sophie had brought. “How was the job interview? Did you get the job?”
You had applied for a job at the health center near your home, the hours were great, the pay was worth it, you just needed to find someone to look after Sophie.
“I was selected, but I need to find a good nanny to take care of Anne...”
“Y/N don’t be silly, you know I will take care of Anne with the greatest pleasure, I love taking care of her.”
“Sophie, I don’t want to give you any trouble...” you started to try to argue.
“Mom! I’m home... Y/N?” you saw Max standing in the middle of the room, staring at you in surprise, then looking at Annelise on Sophie’s lap.
“Max, you didn’t tell me you were coming, come in, I made your favorite cake, go get it from the kitchen, dear” Sophie said, she knew you weren’t ready to talk to Max yet, but the Dutchman had different plans.
You held your arms out to Annelise, who didn't think twice before jumping into your lap, you did your best to avoid Max's gaze.
“We’re going, Sophie... I’ll let you know when we get home,” you said in a whisper and crossed the room towards the exit, but Max grabbed your bicep, stopping you from leaving.
“We need to talk, Y/N... Just five minutes, please,” he said quietly, as soothingly as he could.
“We have nothing to talk about, Max.”
“Please, just five minutes,” he begged, giving Annelise a quick glance in his lap.
“Five minutes, no more.” You said, releasing your arm from his grip. “Sophie, can you take Anne please?”
“Of course, it’s no sacrifice for me, is it, mon bebé?”
Finally you and Max were alone, you were uncomfortable to the point that your skin felt itchy.
“I didn’t expect to see you here… I thought you would stay in Monaco”
“I had nothing to keep me in Monaco, I saw no reason to stay there, and Sophie welcomed me as if I were her daughter,” you said, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “Get to the point, Max, I have to go...”
He licked his lips nervously. “I wanted to talk about our daughter.”
“No, no, calm down, you don’t have a daughter, at least not with me, Annelise is my daughter and mine alone, your participation in her conception was purely accidental.” You said it without any emotion.
“I know I said stupid things that night, Y/N, but I want to make up for every single one of them, with you and with the girl” he said and you scoffed.
“Oh really? And what makes you think you have any right to her?”
“Y/N I’m her father” he said patiently, as he always was with you, until that night at least.
“Unless you request a DNA test, there is nothing to prove your paternity over Annelise,” you determined, taking a step towards him, “and don’t think I’m an idiot, Max, you always knew I was in Brussels with your mother, Sophie told you that the same day I arrived, because I highly doubt she didn't give you the biggest lecture of your life that night.”
He looked away, proving his point “and yet you never cared, you didn’t come to her birthday, or call when she had pneumonia, you didn’t even know her name until today, So please don't lie to me saying that you regret it or that you want to be a part of her life.”
You pressed your fingers to your temples, already feeling the pains of the inevitable migraine.
“Annelise will eventually find out about you, but until then, don't go near her, I won't allow you to be cruel to my daughter the way you were to me.” That was your final sentence before you went to get Annelise with Sophie. You didn't want to have to share oxygen with him any more than necessary. Max belonged to a past you didn't want to revisit.
He stood still in place, watching you leave with the girl, without giving you another look.
“There are stupid people, and then there’s you, Max,” Sophie said, approaching her son. “I find it absurd how you inherited Jos’s worst traits...”
He couldn't help but agree, Max was fucking dumb.
taglist: @spngi, @monacosprince, @camelliaflow3r, @simbaaas-stuff, @bsammy, @sabrinaselina55, @irenkaproszepana , @avni-sarai, @itsapurrfectstorm, @janeh22, @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs, @llvstrous099, @gotthemilk-69, @ladscarlett, @daemyratwst, @anewpersonthatexists, @loohs-world, @sarcastic-nerd
Some who requested to be tagged on the taglist unfortunately could not be located, if I forgot someone, please complain on ask, thank you, management.
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.
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minkyungseokie · 8 months ago
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Private, But Not Secret | Max Verstappen
synopsis; max is in a relationship with a pilot who, despite being popular on the internet, likes to keep their relationship as private as she could
warnings; none
note; requested
note2; I don't think I'm as funny as anyone else who make smaus. I have the sense of humor as a bag of dirt. I tried and I hope you all enjoy this enough to keep requesting. I also did not know how to do a private, but secret romance, so take whatever tf this is
fc; any random woman I find on pintrest
Come Talk to Me
Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Max Masterlist
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pilotynv posted a photo!
pilotynv
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liked by maxverstappen1, nyckdevries, landnorris, and 2,786,231 others
pilotynv A day in the life
tagged: pilotfriend1, pilotfriend2, pilotfriend3, maxverstappen1
dadlicker MAX CRUMBS!! I REPEAT, MAX CRUMBS!! ⤷ubertomywip First of all, your name 💀 second of all, what ⤷dadlicker Y/n doesn't really post Max ⤷Userdd Because they want to keep the relationship as private as possible
maxverstappen1 ❤️ ♥ by author ⤷pilotynv ❤️
danielriccardo I'm so glad you got that picture ⤷pilotynv You were there and you sent me the picture, dumbass ⤷danielriccardo I did? I must've been so drunk
Duign-23r Why is this bitch so fucking rude? ⤷pilotynv Rude how? I'm interacting with a friend. You would know friendly banter if you had friends ⤷User4 GAGGED
landonorris I didn’t know those windows opened
maxverstappen1 posted a photo!
maxverstappen1
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maxverstappen1 Simply lovely. Thank you to our orange army in Bahrain for coming out and supporting us. Next stop Saudi Arabia ➡️ 🇸🇦
drillarkillar Simply lovely, my ass. When are you going to stop winning? You're ruining the sport 😒 ⤷ alliseearesainz @drillarkillar Fr, like, let other people win ⤷ hj219 @drillarkillar You DTS crybabies are what's ruining the sport
tututtutmaxverstappen My 2023 world champion!
masterbaiter give us Y/n content 🗣️🗣️🗣️
meirfyct See you in Saudi!
hamburgerler The 2023, 2024, and 2025 world champ
pilotynv You did amazing, my love. It was amazing seeing you in your element ❤️ ♥ by author ⤷maxverstappen1 @pilotynv ❤️
pilotynv posted a photo!
pilotynv
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pilotynv Flew us to a remote getaway in Greece
tagged: maxverstappen1
maxverstappen1 ❤️ ♥ by author
gaggingballa she😭 flew 😭 them 😭 there 😭
lalalalisa_m that pizza looks so good! We should visit togther sometime ♥ by author ⤷pilotynv @lalalalisa_m Girl, I'd probably ne flying the plane you take here 😭 ⤷8bobbit0 @lalalalisa_m ariana, what are you doing here?
ariangrande Those pizzas look amazing ⤷arialandomis @arianagrande ARIANA?! ⤷greenblattbanner @arianagrande I knew Y/n was popular, but not that popular
pilotynv added to their story
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replies
username omg max! He looks so good
Jossleftpinkietoe More Max pls!
Ynsimp His smile is so cute
landonorris Tell Max his face looks weird
Fuck off- Max
danielricciardo next time, take me and Heidi with you
Bet. I'll fly us all there again
pilotynv posted a photo
pilotynv
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pilotynv decided to watch a race for once since I'm off
tagged: maxverstappen1
urethka here before Max
lugunam The hand holding in the car is so cute
Taggedidj We stan a supportive queen
Fashionicosn She looks so good
Bootlicker GOOD LUCK, MAXIE
pilotynv added to their story
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Honestly, I as struggling a bit with this one. I don't know how to make a smau about a private, but not secret relationship lol. Anyway, feel free to request more smaus or written fics
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to-the-stars8 · 9 months ago
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The Waynes' Nanny
Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3
The Pilot Pt. 2
Walking into the dining room, your bunny slippers pink and prominent, you stretched and yawned out a ‘hello’. It was wonderful falling asleep in a mansion, and even more so when you spent some time in the lavish bathtub attached to your room. It almost made you not want to leave to go downstairs. Yet, you knew there was a job to be done. The children commented on your colorful robe and slippers, astounded that you showed up to breakfast in such attire. Mr. Wayne seemed amused and commented as such, playfully saying that he wished he owned the same bunny slippers you did. You offered to lend them to him, and he rejected the idea. 
Sitting at the table, you playfully scolded Alfred, “You should tell me these things. A simple dress for breakfast would have been fine.”
“Forgive me, Miss, I assumed you knew,” He said, slightly smiling, as he set a breakfast plate in front of you. 
You shook your head, smiling at the plate of food. “I’m from downtown Gotham, Alfred. You have to assume I know nothing.” You looked around the table, watching as they looked at you with surprise. “What? I got something on my face?”
“You’re sitting at the table,” Duke said shyly. 
You looked to Bruce, expecting him to say something, but he didn’t as he continued to eat his food. “Where else am I supposed to sit?”
“The kitchen,” Dick replied bluntly. 
You blew him off. “That’s so old-fashioned, and I’m too social for that. Now, what’re we doing today?” 
The kids told you they would need to leave the house since Mr. Wayne would be holding a charity dinner party that the children were not invited to. Not that you said it aloud, you were less than impressed by Bruce’s lack of involvement with the kids in things. So, you offered to take them to buy clothes and other things, and Mr. Wayne was happy enough to lend you his credit card. You marveled at the black American Express card, never thinking you’d see one in person—Let alone hold one. 
Suddenly, Alfred re-entered the dining room to tell Mr. Wayne that Lucius Fox was on the phone for him. You got up soon after, taking your plate full of food, and told the kids that you were leaving to get dressed, happy as a clam with your new position.
Dick was reserved, openly hostile toward you, and didn’t like the idea that now there was even more of a reason for Bruce not to be involved. You automatically made a note to force Bruce to be more active in his kids' lives and shake the eldest's rough exterior. 
So, when you arrived at the clothes shop, one your friend owned, of course, you spent more time picking out his clothes. Dick seemed like, well, a dick. He was as clever as he was spiteful and attempted to attack you at every angle. You persisted, though, while managing the other kids' wardrobes. 
Dick huffed and went to sit in one of the waiting chairs on the other end of the small boutique, seething in silence. You left him there for a bit, doting on the other children who were pretty well-behaved, albeit a bit odd. Tim had been looking under the mannequins’ skirts to see if they were anatomically correct—and, you knew instantly that would be a conversation with his father. 
As Duke and Jason were trying on ties, you finally looked over to the teenager brooding in the corner. You went over to him, holding up a red tie to his neck before taking the blue one from Damian’s small hands, who was on your hip, and doing the same. Dick was less than impressed. 
“Blue, it compliments your eyes,” You said. 
Dick huffed. “Why’re you doing this?” 
“Because I think you guys should go to that dinner tonight.” 
Before Dick could say that wouldn’t happen Cassandra stumbled over holding out a dress that she wanted to wear, but he wasn’t too dissuaded by that. He insisted that they wouldn’t be going to the dinner party.
Cassandra, even more clever than her older brother, nicely said, “I think the blue tie would suit you, Dickie. It brings out your eyes. It makes you super, super handsome.” 
He stared at her for a moment before saying, “You’re a bitch, you know that?”
Cass smiled, turning on her heel to walk off, leaving you to scold Dick as Damian slowly became more and more irritated with your arm. 
Dick only snapped at you again.
Usually, you could keep your cool, when it didn’t involve your boyfriend, but this was the last straw. “Listen here, I do not care how you feel about Bruce or anything of the sort, but I do know this; you are under my care, and you will be polite, respectful, and cut that language out when I am around.”
“Or what?”
You smiled smugly, stepping closer to Dick as you told him exactly what would happen if he did not behave.  
The children had come home happy, Dick noticeably more so than when he left that morning, and they all boasted about the fun they had with you. Bruce found himself excited at just how well they got on with you, and surprised when the seven of you seemed to be in cahoots. This suspicion rose when he asked you about what the kids bought, but you only brushed him off—heading upstairs in a hurry as you giggled along with the little ones. Fortunately for you, Bruce didn’t dwell much on the thought as his attentions were pulled toward making the evening perfect. 
And so had the party gone. It was starting perfectly. The guests were happy, dinner was being served on time, and, most importantly, the money was rolling in for the charities. Bruce stood in the doorway of the foyer and salon, where the guests were because Alfred had informed him that you needed something. Harvey, who had been in the middle of telling him something, followed him. 
To his surprise, you were standing on the last landing of the staircase in a classy red dress, and he would be lying to himself as well as you if he didn’t admit that you looked stunning. Proudly looking down at him, you grinned before turning to see the kids, all dressed up, behind you. 
“Who is that,” Harvey mumbled to Bruce, grinning from ear to ear. 
Bruce answered, “My nanny.” When you approached, he said in a hushed tone, “I told you the children couldn’t attend.”
You acted shocked, hand going to your cheek, and said sarcastically, “Oh, my! I must be blushing.”
“You’re a dirty player,” He commented before going to his children. Bruce admired how well they all cleaned up, doting on them like he always did, before telling them to be on their most perfect behavior. 
Harvey took this chance to introduce himself, and you seemed charmed. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. DA. Say, I’ve got some parking tickets that I think are pretty bogus, you think you fix those for…”
You trailed off when Bruce came back up to you, motioning all of you toward the salon, and whispering in your ear, “We’re discussing this later.”
You rolled your eyes, you would rather have fun than stress what your boss would say. The children were a hit amongst the party-goers, all of them cooing and awing at the children. You, too, were an intrigue to the guests since you were the mysterious latercomer who also happened to be beautiful. Bruce was surprised by just how well, with your downtown Gotham charms, you ran in the circles of the rich. You enthralled them with little tales of the children, some he was sure you made up, as well as wise outlooks on life (according to yourself, but the people listening took it up like catnip). 
Bruce also found himself having the time of his life with his kids, joking with them, and sharing the bits of business to the best of his ability. Dick was happy that he was paying more attention to them rather than the party, even going as far as to call him ‘Dad’ rather than Bruce. And, when you had left to put Damian to bed, Dickie had told him to keep you around along with something about wanting to keep his social life intact another day. 
That certainly would be something else he would need to speak to you about. 
“Goodbye, Harvey! I’ll call you about those parking tickets,” You called out the front door as you put the small piece of paper with his number into your bra. When you turned around there was Bruce, standing there with his hands on his hips, and you thought for sure you were going to get sacked. 
Before you could explain, Bruce said, “Don’t pull a stunt like that again.”
You were shocked, but not undeterred from your original task. “All I want to do is show those kids that you care about them.”
“I do care about them, and don’t need you to show that.”
You stepped forward, snickering. “I seriously doubt that. I mean, look how happy they were tonight. Why would you want to exclude them like that, Mr. Wayne?”
Bruce thinned his lips, thinking for a moment before relenting. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you were right or that he found the courageous glint in your eyes fairly pretty that he gave up so easily. Reluctantly, he agreed that maybe you were right and mentioned how much the kids liked you, even going as far as to offhandedly mention what Dick said. 
“You can stay,” He said. 
You grinned, “Good. I think you’d have a hard time getting rid of me now. I think the masses in this house might revolt.”
Bruce looked at you again before smiling. No matter how he felt, Bruce couldn’t deny one thing; That you were the perfect addition to the household.
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buckysegan · 10 months ago
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With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration - Part Two
Summary: John writes back to his friend from home and we hear from our friend across the way. John x She. Word Count: 1.2k. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. pstttt also should we name her? do you all want to send me random john prompts. my baby isn't ok and i'm not ok. Part one linked here. Part three linked here.
John was sure he wasn't sweating a normal amount as he looked down at the piece of paper that Buck had offered him. It had taken two whole days of questions from the man for Bucky to even decide that he was going to reply. He’d been offered the hope, what more could he ask of her. Could he ask more? There had been a return address on the letter which Buck had insisted was there for a reason and she had opened herself out for a reply from him but the Major couldn’t help but be unsure.
It was an odd feeling for him, before the war he hadn't been unsure of anything and since he’d been here? Well he hadn’t been sober enough to doubt anything that he had done. These days though Bucky felt like he doubted every single thing. The thing was, he wasn't sure that he could afford to doubt this, to look past the life line that had been offered to him. Not when each day he could feel his mind draw a little further toward the edge no matter how much he or Buck tried to keep it in check.
With a sigh he pulled the pen into his hand, eyes locked on the page for a moment before he began to scrawl.
Dear Friend From Home 
You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you. 
I think the first thing I got to say is thank you. I don’t know if the words I can put on paper are ever going to really tell you how much your letter meant to me. See I was a certain type of man that didn’t think much to pen pals. I figured that I’d be ok, you know, that with my boys I’d have what I needed to make it through the hard days but watching the letters for everyone else roll in has been harder than I thought it might. 
There are things that I can’t tell you cause I don’t know who might read these letters, and where I am I can’t get you no picture but I can tell you that my favorite dish is a meat and potato pie, simple I know but really I’m a simple hearty kind of guy. What makes me laugh, you asked? That’s kind of simple for me too, just good company, myself sometimes, Buck, he’s my best friend, he makes me laugh a lot. What makes you laugh? I’d like to know that. 
May I know where you are? I know that might be a big ask but you said I could ask anything I know and if I get out of here…we get some leave, I’d like to know where I need to ask for me leave to be. Then I can show you what I sound and look like and know that in return. 
If this letter doesn’t reach you for a while, know you’ve been with me the whole time. 
With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration
Major John Egan 
“What if she doesn’t get it?” He found himself questioning quietly to Buck as he handed over the letter to make it out of camp. His best friend settled him with a soft look, one that always made Bucky feel like he had some worldly knowledge the rest of them had missed out on, that assured him everything was going to be alright. “You just gotta have hope she will John, she’ll get it.” 
With a huff Bucky nodded, pulling his hat on as he watched his letter vanish from his view all together. “Alright well I can’t sit here and wonder, I’m off to play baseball or something.”
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The letter that Bucky had so carefully handed over changed hands many more times, some fingers as rough as the pilots, some dirtier, some softer, but the last set of fingers to slide the letter from her post box had perfectly manicured fingers. Her flicking of her post was greedy as she looked for the same thing that she had every day since she’d posted her own letter.
At first, her hopes of finding what she was looking for had been unrealistic; she knew that, it hadn’t even been long enough for her letter to be received, let alone for him to get one back to her, then the other girls at the centre, they’d gotten letters back, notes, anything. That was when she had allowed her hope to return, for a moment at least. Days without anything had turned into weeks and then weeks had turned into months. Anything could have happened, that was what she tried to tell herself, he might not have gotten her letter, he might have thought it was weird and had chosen not to reply. That thought was enough to miff her, he could have at least said thank you. When she had decided no one could be that mean, her diminishing hope had turned to worry, what if he hadn't been able to receive her letter.
Flicking through each white envelope today, she almost missed it, how she didn't know because it was clearly different from the rest of them, maybe she hadn't wanted to look. "Not…" Trailing off she flicked back to the second to last letter, her eyes taking in the scrawling of her address, her eyes checking the postage before she was taring inside. "It's here, he wrote it's here." She called through the halls to the other girls that she lived with, all of which had been holding their breath with her. "Oh god I can't read it, what if he's telling me I was weird!" She cried, thrusting the unopened letter into the hands of her eager friend.
"Don't be dramatic, he's going to be throwing down his gratitude at you being a doll, you should have attached a picture with it I told you!" Meg beamed easily back at her, the same sense of reservation missing from her actions as she tore into the letter so that it could be read to the group. "Dear Friend From Home. You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you." That was enough, pulling the letter from Megs hands she was quick to scramble away from the group once more, locking herself into her room as re-read the opening line herself, the tears in her eyes only welling even further as she continued.
An ache in her chest formed as she read the words once more, taking in each strike of his pen where he had corrected himself or smudge from whatever he'd had on his fingers. The state of the letter was enough to make her wonder, but at least for now, she knew her friend was ok. He was alive, and he wanted to hear more from her. It couldn't have been normal, to feel this level of emotion for a man that she had never met, but she had found herself here regardless and in the middle of so much uncertainty, she wasn't going to question the pull she felt across the way to England.
Pushing from her bed she moved to her desk, paper pulled from her stationary pot, the quicker she could post this the quicker it could get to him.
"Dear Major Egan,
I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too…"
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7oji · 1 year ago
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imagine you run into an ex-boyfriend after a night out with toji 🎀
◞⁺⊹ toji fushiguro/fem!reader ──── fluff. established relationship. jealous toji ofc. 800+ words.
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A sober Toji takes you by the hand to head out of the club after you have had too many drinks. He was having a lot of fun seeing you all red and tipsy, but you would probably blame your hangover on him the next morning.
The deal was that he was supposed to be taking care of you. And he did. He only leaves your side to walk over to the valet.
Those few seconds are enough for your gaze to wander into the crowd before it stops to recognize a guy walking your way.
“That’s my ex...” you blurt out.
Toji returns at the perfect moment to see you tense up. He follows your eyes and his own narrow slightly as he spots a guy your age waving in a friendly manner.
“Is he a problem?” he questions in a low tone, locking his hand around yours.
A bit of alcohol probably drained out of your system, not so much about being trapped without a car and being forced to interact with someone from your past, but more about the fact that Toji grabbed every opportunity to pick out a fight if it was about you. He looked like he enjoyed scaring guys away from your drunk dancing all night.
“He’s okay. We only dated for a while in high school,” you reply after a long breath.
Worried about what you will see in his eyes you avoid looking at him. Instead, he feels a gentle squeeze on the hand before you wave back.
“Heeey,” you greet him as only a drunk girl could. “Long time no see.”
The guy’s expression changes from excitement to a startled look when he notices the large figure beside you.
“This is my husband, Toji,” you introduce him, immediately satisfied at the stunned reaction to that title.
Toji nods at the boy in acknowledgment, ignoring the hand reaching out to him. You swallowed worriedly and try ignoring it too.
A few polite questions are exchanged, all while Toji looks over at the guy with a careful stare, unaware his hand clenched your own in a fist.
“I’m glad you are doing okay,” you finally say after spotting the valet coming closer with your car. “And this was nice, but we really need to go! We have to get back to our kid.”
Easy like that, Toji’s demeanor becomes just a little more serene at the mention of your boy.
You make your way to the car, nudging Toji’s hand in an attempt to stop him from doing much else, but he manages to give the guy a last look with his mouth curling into a mean smile.
“Take care,” he says in a tone that made everyone question if it really was a well-wished farewell.
Your husband turns around to get the keys from the valet. He takes his wallet out and offers the worker a chunk of bills that was large enough to make all people around notice his generous tip.
Toji finally gets into the car in a seemingly carefree manner but finds you already inside trying to contain your laughter.
“What?” he raises his brow.
“You really have a way of making guys sweat, you know?”
He snickers at your words. Not a hint of remorse in sight.
“I suppose I just have a way with people.”
“Oh man, so many memories are coming back…” You give a final breath of relief as you slump on the co-pilot seat.
“Yeah, I’m sure you had plenty of guys following your trail,” he huffs playfully while starting the car. “You were probably one of the prettiest girls in school, right?”
Probably because of the alcohol, but a wistful gleam appears in your eyes.
“Yeah, right. I was lucky to even get that guy as a date for prom.” Remembering how you felt about yourself during those years put you in a sentimental mood, more so in your current state. “You probably wouldn’t even have looked my way back then.”
Toji chuckles when he finally understands why that guy back there had a stupid look on his face when seeing you. It also explains why you didn’t keep pictures of that time, or at least showed them to him.
A bit of nostalgia spreads across his own face as he goes back to his younger days as well. But one look your way makes an affectionate glow replace the melancholy in his eyes. You were a beautiful woman now, and you got all dressed up for him tonight.
“You’re crazy. I would have noticed you instantly back then,” his smile grows a little kinder the more he speaks. “I’ve always been an expert at picking out hidden jewels.”
If you had each other back then, maybe things would have turned out differently. Or maybe not, but you were grateful to be together now. Dewy-eyed at the thoughts, you lean into his side.
“You always know the right thing to say,” your words come out slurred by this time. You start to doze off right then and there.
Toji chuckles and places a kiss on the top of your head before starting the drive back home.
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missmarveledsblog · 2 months ago
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bob floyd fic plz loving your fics anything really with some spice 🥺💞
Risky business ( Robert " bob" Floyd x Reader) 18+
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summary : home doesn't feel like home so y/n takes a risk moving to san diego to the man she always felt was her home her best friend robert floyd , she thinks he friend zoned her , he thinks if he tell her about his feeling for her he'll lose it til one night he takes a risk and hope its a good one .
warnings : swearing , very fluffy like super fluffy , mutual pinning , idiot in love , bestfriends to lovers , dagger squad being the best smutty fun , oral ( female r), fingering , p in v ( unprotected don't be silly wrap that willy ) .
Risks are scary, big or small, and can be terrifying when you don’t know the outcome. It's scary when you do but most risks are usually the best decisions in a person's life. Coming from Montana to San Diego because your best friend is permanently stationed is a big risk , not telling said friend and making sure no else did, big risk. Yet standing in some bar called hard deck hoping they would show up like they most nights. what maybe helped already knowing with the help of a certain female pilot promised they would be .  talking away with the pretty kind eyed bartender as patron began to fill the space with a blink of an eye it was sea of people , each time she would hear the door open her eyes would dart in the direction in hopes to see the WSO  she hadn’t seen in a year or more . texting and calls were main communications and social media which is how she began sort of friends with natasha trace bantering or in bobs word torturing him on a post or meme which became a regular and a mutual online friendship was formed .  bob always gonna be her best friend two growing up together playing on her ranch , he even worked there summers with her so they could spend time together.  Montana suddenly didn’t feel like home anymore it missed one major thing and that was robert floyd so she packed her things and now here she stood in a bar trying to see through the sea of people . a polite smile and shake of her head at the men coming her way offering one liner and drinks . she sipped her beer and continue as nat promised she would get the weapons systems operator to the hard deck even if she had to drag him herself . 
“ well well i didn’t know it was my lucky night” a voice called as she turned to see a blonde and along with a few others eyes locked on her and her glance short because she saw him standing there  almost flying off the stood and running past the cocky blonde. 
“ BOBBY” She yelled almost knocking the poor man to the ground as his mind was catching up and making sense to what was happening. 
“ guess it’s not a lucky as you thought bagman” . 
“ y/n shit what you doing here” he lifted her up and spun her around . 
“ to see ya stupid why else “ she giggled as he put her down . 
“ told you i’d get him here also nice to finally meet you” a voice called as she turned seeing the brunette that help and share memes to torment bob. 
“ nat wow nice to meet ya too “ she turned hugging the woman . 
“ could we meet you too… hi names bradley “  he smiled holding his hand out and they began pushing each other out of the way telling her their names and call sign. 
“ erm let sit over here” bob pulled her to his side and guiding her to the usual space as hangman and rooste more or less yelling about their skills in pool and darts .  he didn’t know what was going on or it was some hallucination , did they crash and this was some coma dream or his own form of heaven . 
“ y/n let me get you a drink to welcome to the hard deck “ of course jake was already putting the charm on . 
“ oh thank you “ she smiled softly as she told him her order before her attention was back on bob .  “ i was so scared you weren’t gonna show up but then again i knew nat wouldn’t have let the surprise go to waste” she giggled as they guy simultaneously sighed dreamily. 
“ That's why you kept trying to get me to leave earlier. I should have known” he chuckled . 
“I didn’t wanna leave this hotty at the bar too long on her own “ nat winked . 
“ you flatter me really , hell i’d say the guys have a hard time flying with you around huh?”. 
“ more her mouth than anything…. So what brings you to fighter town pretty girl ?” rooster asked, hand on his chin  and big eyes in her direction . 
“ well home was boring  without bobby around ain’t felt much like home so I kinda packed up my car and decided  hell why not” she shrugged. 
“ wait your staying like staying staying”bobs eyes widening and excited smile on his face shit why was so cute , handsome and fuck why couldn’t she stop feeling like this for her best friend.  
“ well she’s been planning the last few months and honestly i’m proud of myself for keeping it a secret so long” nat smirked. 
“ and nat helped a lot she viewing places for me which  i will make sure to send  something …food wise since you won’t let me pay you anyway “ she rolled her eyes . 
“Honestly better than money or whatever sweetpea’s cooking is to die for “ bob almost moaned  at the thought of tasting her food again one of the things he missed being home. 
“ sweetpea?” 
“ nickname from when i was kid  my mama was really into flowers and well one of it meanings is loyal  when i got into trouble a lot for picking up for bobby  she called me sweet pea also because they were grown for beauty too but i think more the loyal part “ she rolled her eyes.
“ your beer darling” jake returned flashing  a million dollar smile her way . 
“ thanks cowboy , so this is famous hard deck i’ve been hearing all about hell  penny is a peach  , where else is fun around here?” she asked looking around mainly her eyes where on bob , they always were even as kids she thought he was the prettiest boy  , cutest smile and innocent eyes but she say other side when they got dark when he would get pissed off or when he got drunk how it would be a goofy grin . She was one who saw most sides of robert floyd , reading him like a book or so she thought. 
Ever since he was little boy the only girl to fully make robert floyd heart beat fast and his stomach to flutter and a warmth fill through his body was y/n , his sweet pea who go out of her way to take care of those she loved and put a person in their place of needed to be  .  since they were kids she didn’t take to kindly to other kids teasing him or even adults as they got older .  Her mother was right she was loyal to a fault often trying to see the best in people and never returning it back .  Hated the guys she dated ones that didn’t appreciate the best woman on gods green earth .  then he would pick up the pieces of what was left behind unknowingly making things worse because they got that chance because she thought he saw her as sister , constantly made sure to let slip in the fact they were best friends so she dated idiots she thought would distract her from her decent  in the depths of the of friend zone. Now she was happy being single maybe she needed time to get over those feelings  first before jumping into a mistake.  She was happy now being with the one man she couldn’t have it should of stung but a life with him in it even as her best friend was what she was willing to settle on. She got along with the dagger squad they were good people , fun and very welcoming . rooster and hangman to offering to teach her to play darts which made bobs face light up , the coy act as she stood unsurely throw the first one missing reeling them in til she turned to bob not even paying attention to the way their jaws drop when she hit the bullseye while taking about her day of unpacking. 
“ would ya look at that “ she winked before heading to get another drink . 
“ look like  your game isn’t working tonight boys “ nat snorted 
“ i’ve a better shot then hangman “ 
“ you wish chicken boy “ 
“I don’t think either of you two  have a chance” payback announced as he shot the WSO  a quick glance . being the married man and obsessed with one woman in his life he could spot something the others didn’t. Her eyes didn’t devour them  any of them  , she only looked to answer or tell them a story but other than that her full attention was on bob and bob alone . heart in those eyes   and it was returned what he didn’t know was there wasn’t more to it , how two people undeniably in love and yet just friends maybe he would find out but for now he observed see how long it took the other  but only  the knowing look on phoenix face  he wasn’t the only one that spotted it , the rest would need to get  over the egos first . 
After week one fanboy spotted it followed by javy at week three   but rooster and hangman were two busy in a silent competition it didn't hit them til six months of y/n being around.  The two men saying they totally spotted it way be for then but they couldn’t hide when it clicked now they were waiting for those two to see it , would their be harm in helping  a gentle nudge in the right direction so to speak. Another new favorite in the shift of the routine was eating dinner in y/n which the name was a distant memory as sweetpea continued  to live on in san diego , even pete mitchell addressed her as such .   they decided maybe it was best to skip one  dinner night even though the idea of it had some of them pouting like spoiled children . 
“ you better not mess it up “ was all the message from hangman and rooster read  as he stood on the porch ready to knock not knowing what his friends where on about .  then when the door opened  the thought went straight out of his head as she standing head tilt in pair of cotton shorts and tank , brows furrow. 
“ i thought the squad was busy?” god her voice something as simple as her voice had him in a puddle . sometimes he would get her to talk about her hobbies , things she loved just to hear her ramble excitedly . 
“I .. not all the squad i guess , i’ll call for pizza and you pick out the movie” he chuckled letting himself in . 
“ beers in the fridge or ginger ale” she called and yet he couldn’t help it watching her walking away how it made the blood rush sound and his mouth run dry .  he felt the buzz of his phone to see the text in the group chat.  
Phoenix : please make a move or i’ve suffered the whining of bradshaw and seresin for nothing.
Baby on board : what you mean ?
Bagman : either get the girl or i will 
Rooster: i’ll get her before bagman  
“ bobby? “ she called as he pocketed the phone a gulp as he looked up  nervous was it that obvious , it was clearly it was plain as day for his friends to spot it and  now he was scared on her catching on what if he scared her away .. what if he lost his best friend because he couldn’t contain the feelings . maybe it was better tell her , face the rejection and get over it so he could get on with his life . 
“ yeah .. yep coming sweetpea “ he walked probably slowest he’s ever walk in hope of the short distance he could sort himself out . that would of been blown away as she sat looking up his eyes straining to stay on her face and not the plush of her thigh as she sat on the sofa feet tucked underneath her legs and big bright smile on her face. 
“ ya coming or what” she snorted looking to the tv eyes scanning through the potential choices . when he finally took his seat as far away as he could get without being in a different room . 
“  Do I smell?” she arched her brows to which he shook his head so fast she thought his glasses would fall off . “  well come over here” she patted the seat beside her .  
“ you wanna drink like i said beer if you wanna stay over or ginger ale” she asked getting up . 
“ you hate ginger ale why you always get it  “ 
“Cause  you don’t” she easily said . “ same way i get those nuts ya like or the chips which honestly  i’m starting to think something wrong with ya taste buds” she snorted heading off to the kitchen .  
“ given the chance i’d taste you “ he mumbled .
“What was that “ she carried in the beers  .
“ i said nothing wrong with my taste thank you” he coughed bringing the bottle to his lips least he couldn’t have slip ups if it was occupied right. 
“ you ok “ she asked concern on his face as he nodded.  “ ya sure like a bag of cats since you got in here “ . 
“ just thinking of something that well is a big risk and  i don’t know what to do , it’s classified” he sighed. 
“ take it i mean  risks are scary sure but if it something you love or something in your life that needs changing  , i’d say go for it once it not life on the line that that risk , i moved out her away from everything i knew and i think it was best decision i made ” she smiled  softly and yet it did comfort him but same time the fear was winning . “ think on what i said decided then but for now lets watch this movie” she giggled hitting play and the lights . of course she would pick the movie he said he loved , she always done little or big things like this having his favorites for when he was over , packing extra things when they were out like sun cream and aloe vera when he did burn .  wipes for his glasses .  little things that didn’t feel that little they meant a lot to him. He kept thinking it over the movie long forgotten as she cuddle into his side nothing new but still he was trying to think , trying to decide  take the risk or not. 
“ fuck this “ he finally said only he didn’t mean to say it so loud making her startle and sit up right . 
“ What's going on? What's got all worked up “ she ask pausing the moving .  “ I know you said classified what is it” . 
“   it’s you “ his head fell back eyes closed fuck it may aswell do it cause if he didn’t he was going to be in a padded room . 
“ me? What i do?” he could hear it the hurt in her voice , he knew her too well knew how her mind worked and he knew she was worried she done something wrong. 
“ nothing wrong i mean it’s more me than anything  before i could do i think being deployed and stationed places helped  i was able to hide it better  , now others see it too and then your gonna see it  , but i’m taking your advice and it feel life risking but shit i need to tell you i’ve been in love with you since we met shit i don’t think theres a time i haven’t been  and i understand if this changes things between us i mean if you want me to walk out that door  i will as much as it kills me but i can’t pretend i’m not anymore and no i’m gonna loose my best friend and  jake and bradley are gonna hate they miss the food for me fucking everything up but i love you  , in love with you “ he could lie and say that the beating of his heart help since he couldn’t hear anything  yet her mouth fell open and her eyes wide , she was frozen to the spot and now he wanted to run literally run his ass out that door and keep running maybe start a life somewhere new .. like the moon . “ please say something… anything” he was more quiet   , vulnerable and small in his voice. 
“ you fucker …. Asshole ..” that was not the words he was expecting to hear. “ your telling me you felt the same all this fucking time… .asshole what was the whole thing of constantly added  the fact we’re bestfriends in any conversation you shit i thought  i was so deep in the friendzone the titanic would of been found before anyone found me down there” she quipped . 
“ i more said that to myself than you “ he winced 
“ why didn’t you tell me sooner “ she asked . 
“ i was afraid i’d lose you why didn’t you tell me”. 
“ because you dick i thought you friendzoned me “ she huffed and yet the smile she was fighting it was , winning  as her lips twitched up . 
“ so we both love like in love with each other “ he asked shyly . 
“ i guess we are” she nodded. 
“ so i can kiss you”. 
“ i’d be pissed if you didn’t” she turned only for his hands on her cheeks and lips crashing against her. It was soft at first , almost  testing the waters   , crossing new bound and borders and yet it felt like it was most right thing to do , it was like the whole cliche puzzles pieces souls connecting goodness wrapped in a bow that would make the hallmark channel proud . til the kiss got hungry , heat , sensual .  nip to her bottom lip granting the entrance , tongues dancing along side each. Pulling her closer , needing her closer lifting her to his lap , where she always should of been his hand on her hip  , the other tangled in her hair . her own at the nape of his neck the soft tug pulling him for her lips as she kissed  down his jaw .  wet open mouth kissing along his neck setting his skin a blaze  the room suddenly feeling like a sauna as she nips and lick the skin .  his now free hand  , fingers under her chin pulling her face to his , his eyes darkened  that made her gulp and her thighs willing to clench under the almost burning gaze . 
“ baby girl i need  know you want this “ he voice few octaves lower  if he wasn’t holding her by her chin her mouth would of fell open . 
“ i want this i want you please” she whine her eyes full of needed , lust blown pupils  and kiss bitten lips made his cock throb straining against his pants  . the gasp from her lips when she felt it pressed again her , her panties soaking , clothes feeling tight  as she ground her hips  down showing him how much she wanted him , needing him .  the delicious friction his hand falling down to her ass squeezing as the moan spilled from from her lips like a flip of a switch , the resolved that was holding on  by thread snapping  . Instant he stood lips crashing against her harder , hungrier , her legs wrapped around him as he carried her to her bedroom. Her top thrown to one corner and her short to another like the clothing personal offended him . the groan when he seen it she been sitting beside him all night nothing underneath  , laying bare beneath him as he pull his own clothes off in record speed. His grip under her legs pulling her close  her chest rising and falling, her eyes pleading him to continue shit he had to of died to get this piece of heaven .  kissing down her legs not once did his eyes moved , her mouth open as he place sloppy kisses slow , tortuous she needed him to do something before she was driven crazy . closer and closer til she felt it  , felt his tongue broad stroke from her entrance to her clit . head falling back as sound that came from her lips almost had him blowing his lips .  paradise if it had a taste it would be her sweet pussy if he could he’d spend the rest of his life between her plush thighs. A grip on his hair as she cried out his name a sound he imagine and yet it didn’t do it justice , none of this was even close to what his mind tried to conjure.
“ fuck bobby don’t stop “  her hips following his movement as  his tongue swirling around her clit as his finger pumping in and out hitting spots she never knew existed , the fact he ate her pussy like it was first and last meal , like it was his first taste of wandering the desert . robert floyd ate pussy like it was an olympic sport and he was going for gold  . he had her ruined  knowing nothing , not even her own fingers could ever feel as good. Build and building  , winding so tight she could feel it coming to the point she was already trembling crying not to stop it was coming and coming til stopped . 
“ the fuck” she panted as he rose cocky smirk on his face she felt like sobbing and slapping him all at one . 
“ when you cum  for me for first  baby it gonna be on my cock “ he kissed her nose . she went to argue but what ever argument she had turned to a moan inch by inch he filling her. 
“ fuck so tight .. she made for me huh.. All mine” he groan his forehead on her  kissing her lips til  she bucked her hips a sign for him to move his hand on her cheek kissing  almost swallowing the moans , trust slow at first feeling  his cock stretching her velvet walls . soft sensual movement til his pace got faster and fast hold her face in place as he looked down . his other hand coming between her bodie , teasing her puffy clit he could feel it feel her getting closer and closer the way she was sucking him in , how being buried in her sweat cunt was addictive. 
“ i’m gonna fuckk … like that gonna “ she couldn’t get it out everytime  she tried to get the sentence out of her mouth he would hit the spot so deep in side she was going brainless .  pressure building crying his name like it was only word she knew in that moment was . like a explosion her eyes rolling back as her legs clenched around him walls tight on his cock . 
“ good fucking girl “ he growled his own movement sloppy til he was shooting his own release painting her cervix with thick ropes of cum .  body cover in sheen of sweat his lips peppering her face with delicate kisses before he got her lips . a collective wince as he pulled out collapsing beside her pulling her to his chest.
“ that…” 
“Is happening all the time agreed .. your a dick” she sigh happily.
“ why’s that baby girl “ he chucking looking down at blissed out grin on her face. 
“ we could of been doing that all this time .. but hey least i was right risk are worth taking “ she giggled as he pounced on her kissing her once more , kiss his best friend and his girl .
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seresinhangmanjake · 11 months ago
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The Favorite
dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader
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Summary: The Daggers meet your and Jake's baby girl for the first time and arguments over who will be her favorite aunt or uncle quickly follow.
Notes/Warnings: part of the Oh, Baby Universe, but can be read alone. Based on a suggestion from @tgmreader
Words: 1288
Between the ‘She’s like your clone, Jake,” from Nat, the ‘Is anyone else surprised Hangman beat us to the baby train?’ from Bob, and the offended ‘Wait, you two were hooking up and you didn’t tell me?’ from Javy, Jake is clearly exhausted. Not that he didn’t anticipate being worn out after introducing his daughter to his team, you both did, but the last forty-five minutes have far surpassed expectations.
Being confined in a room with the Daggers historically proves to have its drama—whether in the form of unnecessary argument or playful teasing—but with your new baby girl at the center of everyone's attention, drama has started to take on new meaning in the form of obsessively watching Eve as if she might start doing tricks or giving you both grief for not spilling every detail of your ‘sneaky, secret relationship’ before this moment. To your relief, though, they’ve steered clear of asking questions about your absence over the majority of the past year. They don’t push, knowing that information will be revealed with time.
“It’s just…” Mickey begins as his eyes snap back and forth from the baby to Jake, “...so weird.”
When you chuckle, Jake rolls his eyes. “It’s not weird,” he counters. 
“It’s pretty weird, man. You’re, like, a dad.”
“Lots of people are dads,” Jake says as he runs his knuckle down the cheek of the infant in your arms—his new little love. 
“Yea, but you’re the dad of Y/N’s baby.”
As Bradley snorts at the obvious, you look to Jake to check on the effect of Mickey’s unfiltered words. His eyes are on your face and you smile to soften the sudden twinge of uneasiness speckled amongst the various green flecks in his irises. 
Though Jake has expressed mental security in his place within the lives of you and your child, you fear what might occasionally be running through his mind. The last thing you want infecting his confidence is the consideration that maybe this situation is weird, that maybe he isn’t meant to be the father of your baby because he wasn’t intentionally chosen for that role. 
Eve wasn’t planned. You can’t change that. And the choices you made when you discovered your pregnancy are enough to have any man reasonably questioning himself. But there is no other man you want as your baby’s father. Jake is it. You’re pretty positive he was always meant to be it, because your brain refuses to picture another in his place. 
Jake’s stare breaks when Bradley starts to speak. “We all knew how these two felt about each other, even though they were doing nothing about it,” he says, shooting you and Jake a smirk so quick it’s barely acknowledged before he looks back to the group of pilots. “I promise you guys, once it fully sinks in, it won’t feel so wild that they accidentally made a tiny human.”
Nat’s head snaps up from Eve, but her finger remains wrapped in the infant’s smaller ones. “When, exactly, were you given enough time for it to sink in?” There is suspicion in her tone. Then her eyes go wide. “Did you already meet the baby?” she asks before turning to you and Jake. “Did Rooster meet her before the rest of us?”
As if sensing the shift in the room, Eve lets out a little whine and starts to wiggle in your hold. 
“Yes, Nat,” Bradley answers for you. You can feel the sass bubbling around him as his arms cross over his chest. “By a whole three days.”
“Three days matters,” she retorts. “It could be the difference that makes you Eve's favorite. The earlier the interaction, the better.”
“She’s only a few months old. You might still have a chance, Nat,” Reuben chimes from the sideline.
“Don’t bet on it,” Bradley snorts. His sass is so expertly conveyed you’re shocked his tongue doesn’t stick out to accompany his words. 
You’d scold him if not for the fact that these two often enjoy ruffling each other’s feathers when the opportunity arises. It’s all in good fun, but sometimes, depending on the topic, the teasing aspect goes over their heads. 
You suppose it’s flattering that being your child’s favorite is enough to cause a bit of an upset, but it’s wasted energy. Jake will be Eve’s favorite. The Father and The Favorite are not mutually exclusive, and you know in a room full of the people she loves most in the world, Eve will never fail to run straight into her father’s arms.
Nat, however, does not consider that inevitability as she carefully slips her finger from Eve’s to face the six-foot-tall brunet head-on. 
Jake mutters a curse, fingers rubbing across his forehead.
With his hands raised, Javy takes a step forward as if to prevent a physical altercation. “Alright, everybody take a breath,” he says. The winning, cocky grin that has tempted a woman or two or thirty is spread across his face. Then he points to himself. “I'm going to be the favorite. I'm her father's best friend.”
“I don't think that guarantees anything,” Bob says, only to receive a scowl in return.
It’s then that Mickey throws his own name onto the ballot. “You know, if we base this on entertainment value, she’ll obviously like me best. I’m the funniest.”
“Also the most irresponsible,” Reuben adds.
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Um, everything,” Nat clarifies as Bob nods in agreement. “For one, you’ll never be the babysitter.”
“If you were the babysitter you’d need a babysitter,” Bradley chuckles, patting Mickey on the back. 
Bob clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose. “That is very true; it would be chaos. What baby Eve here could use is a calming presence, and that’s me, so–”
“I’m calm,” Reuben interjects, pulling a scoff out of Javy.
“You also come up with insane ideas that make everyone miserable,” Javy says. “What are you going to do, have the baby compete in challenges only to suffer through two hundred push-ups if she loses?” he asks. “I think that’s grounds for immediate disqualification.”
Reuben’s response is drowned out by the additions of each pilot arguing their case for favorite aunt or uncle, and you’re too drained from the last hour to attempt untangling voices.
Jake sighs and shakes his head before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the living room, up the stairs to where Eve sleeps. You’re thankful that, at some point, despite the noise filling the room where your friends remain, your little girl managed to fall asleep. As you place her in her crib, you glance at Jake. 
He’s sitting on the loveseat on the opposite side of the room, one hand running down his face, the other reaching out for you. When you take that hand, he pulls you onto his lap, shifting around until you’re comfortable with your back leaning against the armrest. A palm draws a lazy line of warmth up and down your leg.
“You’re a trouper, Honey,” he says, eyes unmoving from your knee.
You chuckle. “It could’ve been worse.”
“We should’ve done it one at a time; single-file line. The last thing I wanted was for you to be overwhelmed.”
Sitting a little straighter, you reach up to cup Jake’s cheek and guide his face toward yours. “Jake, I wasn’t overwhelmed. I’m fine and so is Eve,” you promise him. “Besides, they’re my friends, too. I knew what we were getting into.”
Jake leans into your touch before turning his head to kiss your palm. “They’re all crazy,” he says.
“Yes, but they’re ours,” you reply. Then you nudge your head in the direction of the crib. “And now hers.”
---
tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie @ateliefloresdaprimavera
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ssa-dado · 3 months ago
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1 - Orchids & Knots
Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader
Genre: fluff
Summary: A young profiler, recently recruited by Jason Gideon, joins the BAU and works with experienced agents, including Hotch and Rossi, on a challenging case involving a methodical killer. Despite initial nervousness, you start to bond with Hotch through wit and shared work ethic, revealing unexpected personal sides along the intense investigation.
Warnings: Usual CM case described in detail, hideous use of one bedroom trope, Gissi implied as a joke
Word Count: 4.1k
Dado's Corner: first part of the upcoming series! Still have no clue of how many parts it could have, just expect a very slow burn. My other fic - Symposium (definitely not platonic love) - is part of the same universe, hence why reader is still a philosophy enthusiast. You can enjoy this pilot as its own or read it before or after Symposium. You do you. Again, I'm aware there might be some mistakes as English isn't my first language so bear with me.
part zero - reading optional, but strongly advised ; part two
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Everyone who knew you had assumed you'd take an academic route in your professional life, perhaps becoming a professor or researcher, but something you couldn’t explain had always pulled you toward the darker corners of human behavior.
You weren't satisfied with just understanding the human mind, you wanted to see what happened when it broke.
Now, you were standing still on the elevator on your way to meet Jason Gideon, the legend who had recruited you after being impressed by your sharp mind during a lecture he held at the academy.
Maybe it was because of your passion to philosophy that made you a natural curious person, always asking – sometimes asking way too many – questions, never taking anything for granted.
After that lecture you understood that profiling was a subject that rewarded what many considered to be one of your most annoying flaws. Hence why another reason you probably decide to follow that specific path, out of all the others: you wanted to prove everyone wrong.
What many didn’t see though - and most of the times you didn’t even realise yourself - is that you questioned yourself and your decisions more than anything else. Although for once, trusting more your instincts rather than your reasoning to decide to work at the Bureau, somehow sweetly felt right.
“Y/N, right?” A deep voice cut through your thoughts. You turned to see Gideon standing beside a tall man, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. His expression appeared stoic, yet his eyes - sharp and calculated - were the most striking feature about him, even more than the smoke coming from his ears as he was focusing all of his energies on you to read through your façade.
As you entered the barely lit bullpen, the weight of the moment hit you. The room was filled with agents, all seasoned professionals busy with their work, pouring over case files, dissecting behavioral patterns, and speaking in hushed tones about suspects and profiles. Their years of experience were palpable, but instead of shrinking, you felt a quiet resolve. You were aware you had something unique to offer - not to be cocky about it - and Gideon clearly thought so too, otherwise you wouldn’t be there.
You were trying your best to be as neutral as possible but you couldn’t deny you immediately felt a wave of adrenaline coursing through you. Knowing you were standing before one most formidable profilers the FBI had ever known and next to him the one you hypothesised to be the Bureau’s next rising star. There wouldn’t be any other plausible reasons for him to stand so close to Gideon otherwise, you thought.
“Yes, sir,” you responded, willing yourself to keep calm. Gideon had introduced you to the mystery man next to him – SSA Aaron Hotchner – or you-can-call-me-Hotch; For a moment you felt so uncool for not having a nickname yourself.
Hotch studied you further for a moment, his face unreadable, but you could tell he was intrigued. His nod was brief, but it felt like a form of acknowledgment.
Gideon smiled warmly. “Good to see you again, Y/N. I’ve been just telling Hotch here about your academic work, very impressive stuff. I’m sure the mix of philosophy, linguistics and psychology will give you quite of a unique lens for profiling.”
“Welcome to the team,” Hotch said simply, though his tone carried weight. With just a sentence he made sure to remind you that you weren’t just another recruit, you were expected to contribute. You hoped his remark would just point out at the overall high expectations everyone had of you, instead of him questioning your presence here due to your young age, less than a week passed from your 21st birthday.
"Thank you," you said, trying to balance out with professionalism. "I’m eager to get started."
Gideon gestured for you to follow him. "Come on, there’s someone else I want you to meet. David Rossi."
Your heart raced. David Rossi, the legend who had co-founded the BAU with the man standing next to you. The picture of you working with him felt surreal. As you, Hotch, and Gideon made your way to Rossi’s office, you could feel Hotch’s eyes still occasionally flicking toward you, still assessing, still quiet. His silence felt deliberate, as though he wanted to see how you carried yourself before making any judgments.
When you entered Rossi’s office, he looked up from his desk, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His presence was formidable, the kind of aura that came from decades of experience. For a brief moment, you felt like he was already profiling you, dissecting every nuance of your appearance and demeanor. Then, his face broke into a bright grin, and he stood, extending his hand.
"So, you’re the philosophy kid," Rossi said, his voice gruff but warm. "Gideon’s been talking your ear off about you."
Philosophy kid, as if you didn’t feel odd enough.
You shook his hand. "That’s me. Nice to meet you, Agent Rossi."
You smiled at that, already feeling some of the tension ebbing away in his presence. There was something about Rossi’s bluntness that was oddly reassuring. He was a man who spoke his mind, no pretense, no games.
"Dave," he corrected, flashing a grin. "‘Agent Rossi’ makes me sound like I could be your nonno. You can call me Dave."
"So, Gideon tells me you speak sixteen languages?" Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow. "How come? Ever consider becoming a spy?"
"Bisnonno" He quickly grinned, you had just entered his office and already flexing your Italian, he teased you first though. "Got it, Dave.". If there would have been one thing you had learnt throughout the brief 2 minutes you’ve been working at the BAU, is that profilers were no joke about their nicknames.
You laughed softly. "I was raised in a bilingual household, I have a thing for languages"
Hotch, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. "It’ll definitely come in handy in the field. We deal with a lot of international cases."
His voice was calm, measured. Although you had read his file; Hotch wasn’t just any profiler - he was methodical, relentless, and someone who had climbed the ranks through sheer dedication. His seriousness wasn’t arrogance, but a reflection of his deep commitment to the job.
Rossi leaned back slightly, his eyes now flicking over your outfit, your well-fitted total black three-piece suit. “I’ll say, I didn’t expect someone at 21 to show up looking more polished than half of the bureau. You sure you’re not here to give a lecture?”
You chuckled, feeling some of the tension melt away. "This is just my definition of business casual”
Gideon smiled but quickly shifted back to business. “I brought the two of you here in Dave’s office because we just got a tough case” He says gesturing towards you and Hotch “And I want all of us to be working together in on it”.
Rossi laughed, clearly enjoying your response. "Gideon, I think you found someone who might out-dress me."
Normally at the BAU they would either work solo or in pairs, sometimes they would even assest the case from the comfort of their own desk there in Quantico, if travelling was not deemed crucial to build the profile. Only when crime would be particularly complex, they would quicky assemble a team, a small task-force of sorts, take their go-bag with them and travel all across the country struggling more with the train connections rather than with the criminals themselves.
You ironically told yourself that there wouldn’t be a much better start on your new job, your heart raced with anticipation. "What’s the case?" You asked trying to mask the slight feeling of anxiety rushing through your veins.
In a matter of seconds, Gideon quicky exited the office and had already came back firmy holding a bunch of manila folders. He handed you a thick case file, and as you flipped through it, your stomach slightly churned, reminding you this wasn’t these weren’t just pictures on your textbooks.
The unsub had left seven bodies in three states, all bound with intricate knots, posed in ritualistic displays. Each victim had an orchid placed delicately on their chest, and despite the grotesque nature of the crimes, you found there was an eerie beauty in how the unsub treated his victims.
"The knots," Gideon explained, pointing to a photograph. "They’re not random. Each one is different, and each one requires a high level of skill. The unsub is precise, organized, and deliberate. He’s treating these murders like a performance."
These killings to you were manifest of the deeply rooted paradox in human experience - beauty and pain - where both often coexist or follow each other closely. You always found amusing how beauty, whether in art, nature, or human life, often emergeed through struggle or suffering.
You looked closely at the images, analyzing the intricacies of the knots, you feel the need to add something else. "It’s not just performance - it’s communication. The knots are sending a message. He’s not killing out of anger. There’s patience here. He wants control, and the orchids, those suggest he sees the victims as fragile, beautiful objects to be perfected, but ultimately destroyed."
Even historically, humankind tended to these opposites because they reflect the full range of life’s complexities, as joy often emerges from pain, and suffering can heighten the appreciation of beauty. You kept the philosophical monologue to yourself, you definitely didn’t want to reinforce even more the prejudice your teammates could already have on you, the lack of field expertise overly compensated by the knowledge of human nature.
Hotch leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "He’s someone with discipline, military or maybe maritime experience. The variety of knots points to a deeper knowledge of how they work. He’s not just tying them for show. He’s someone who understands the function of every twist and turn."
Rossi smiled at your analysis, clearly impressed. "Not bad. Not bad at all, philosopher. " You now started to suspect Gideon had overly gushed about this particular part of your background as it seemed to be the only thing your new co-workers remembered about you.
You nodded, your mind racing. "And the orchids, they aren’t just decorative. He’s choosing them for a reason. Orchids are notoriously difficult to grow. They’re delicate but require meticulous care, which suggests he sees himself as a cultivator. He picks his victims carefully, like someone choosing a rare flower, and when they don’t live up to his standards, he... prunes them."
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The team continued to build the profile, each member adding layers of complexity. The unsub’s background became clearer: someone with a need for control, a perfectionist likely with some connection to floristry or horticulture. You felt a growing sense of camaraderie as you offered ideas and bounced theories off Hotch, who slowly began engaging with you more directly.
“They do act like an old married couple” Hotch hums in a low voice while pointing at Rossi and Gideon vividly arguing far away from the two of you about something you couldn’t grasp yet. You immediately chuckle at the sight, appreciating Hotch’s efforts to bond with you yet still being very reserved and shielding himself through his rare jokes.
A few days into the investigation, you found yourself paired with Hotch all the times, a tactic you knew Gideon pulled just to make you feel the most at ease, despite the overly reserved nature of your partner.
He continued, “See, they might made you think the fraternization rules exist because of Dave, what they didn’t tell you is that he’s probably secretly married with Gideon and apparently the latter today forgot about their anniversary”. You tried your best not to burst into laughing as the Italian man furiously walked towards the two of you, Gideon quick on his feet following him with an apologetic look on his face. Damn, Hotch might have been right, the similarities in the physical language to the scenario he previously mentioned was uncanny.
“The Bureau changed our accommodation, again.” Gideon sighed “They’ll soon send us the address, we have two rooms, two twin beds each, private bathroom” He ironically emphasised the last part, as if he was offering all of you the deal of your life.
“Budget cut again kiddos” Dave announced, oblivious of the reason why both of yours and Hotch's eyes were almost tearing up trying to hold in the laughters.
“Hood rats.” Rossi flamboyantly replied “So here’s another reason to end this case as soon as possible. Figli di puttana, There's no way I'm sleeping more with Jason rather than with my own wife”. Both you and Hotch gave each other a quick mischievous side-eye that could speak more than a thousand words. As the two of them moved away from you and Hotch enough so they wouldn’t hear your next words, you turned towards him. “Dave didn’t even offer us to sleep with him in his room, you actually might have been right all along”.
“I’m always right” He replied showing the dimples on his face.
“Typical lawyer behaviour, gaslighting their way just to be right in their own distorted reality.” You poke fun at him as you reminded he told you he used to work as a persecutor before landing into the Bureau.
Hotch definitely didn’t expect such a quick-witted comeback from you. “I wasn’t aware philosophers knew humor” he teased you.
“We patented it” you smirk.
You and Hotch later surveyed a potential crime scene—a floral shop the unsub had likely visited. As you both examined the area, you could feel Hotch's eyes on you, observing how you worked, how you processed information.
"You’re picking up on a lot for your first case," Hotch said, breaking the silence. "Most people miss the smaller details."
You looked over at him, surprised by the sudden compliment. "Thanks. I guess looking at things in an unorthodox way helps, all the hours spent on Plato apparently paid off"
Hotch nodded. "It shows. Keep it up."
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Together, you reviewed the evidence, each of you adding to the emerging profile. You and Hotch began to form a pattern: he’d focus on the precision of the unsub’s actions, while you offered a more abstract perspective, thinking about the emotional motivations behind the crimes.
Later that evening, after a long day of chasing leads and trying to make sense of the tangled web the unsub had woven, you all finally were set into the new accommodation.
Despite Rossi’s earlier complaints about the budget cuts, the place wasn’t that bad - it was modest but clean, with enough space to spread out the case files and work. You and Hotch were indeed been paired up to share a room, as he previously predicted, with two twin beds crammed into a space that would feel much smaller once your notes and case materials were scattered all across the floor.
As soon as you entered the room, Hotch moved with military precision, setting down his go-bag and immediately pulling out a file. He glanced around briefly, as if taking in every detail of the room in a split second, then sat down at the small desk, already deep in thought.
You, on the other hand, sat on the edge of your bed for a moment, looking around and trying to shake off the fatigue that was creeping in. It was only your first case, and yet you felt the pressure building already - both from the weight of the crimes and from wanting to prove yourself in front of someone as formidable as Hotch. Despite the intensity of the case, you couldn’t help but be amused at the situation.
“So, do you believe their honeymoon suite is just as romantic as ours?” You asked with a smirk, hoping to lighten the mood.
Hotch didn’t look up immediately, as if puzzled on how to choose his next words, though you caught the slight twitch of his lips. “Yeah, nothing says romance like crime scene photos and case files scattered everywhere.”
You chuckled and tossed your jacket onto the back of a chair. “I always knew the FBI had a weird way of doing things, but I have to admit this is next level.”
As you pulled out the case file, flipping through the pages and studying the photos, you found it hard to concentrate, mostly because of how quiet the room turned out to become. Hotch was the kind of person whose silence seemed louder than most people’s conversations, and though you could tell he was intensely focused on the case, you sensed that he was also observing you – amazed at how it was the first time he ever saw someone overworking themselves as much as he did.
Breaking the silence, you threw a glance at him. “You ever wonder what makes someone do this? I mean, it’s one thing to read about it in a textbook, but seeing it in person…”
Hotch set his pen down and leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze fixed on you. “Every time. You get used to it, but it never really stops affecting you.”
You nodded, taking that in. “It’s just so… deliberate. Every little detail, like the knots, the orchids, it’s like he’s creating something, not just destroying.”
Hotch’s eyes narrowed in thought, clearly impressed by your analysis. “That’s an interesting perspective. Most people would only see the destruction.”
“You know,” you said, leaning back on the bed, wanting to return the subtle compliment “when I first joined the academy, I never thought I’d end up here, sitting in a hotel room with one of the newest best profilers in the country.”
Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Flattery, huh? Didn’t think philosophers believed in that.”
You grinned. “We don’t, but I make exceptions.”
He gave you another small smile, his guard dropping just a little. “Well, I didn’t expect to be working with a 21-year-old who can hold their own on a case like this.”
“I’ve got to keep up with all of you somehow.”
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Hotch shook his head slightly, still smiling. “You’re doing more than keeping up, but I’ve already told you this.”
The next morning, while poring over the case, both you and Hotch hit on the idea that the unsub might escalate soon. "He’s been meticulous so far, but there’s a growing desperation in the pattern," you observed. "He’s becoming bolder with each kill, taking greater risks. If he feels like he’s not getting the recognition he craves, he might go after a more high-profile victim."
Hotch considered this, his brow furrowing. "Someone in the public eye. He’d want an audience for his ‘art.’ We should look into upcoming events where he might strike."
Later, Gideon walked into the room with a look that told you something big had just clicked into place. "We’ve got a break," he said, laying down a new set of photographs. They were taken at a local orchid show, a high-profile event that had been held recently. "We missed it before because the show was a private event, members only. But one of the attendees matched the profile. His name is Matthew Carson, a former Navy sailor turned horticulturist."
You leaned over the photos, seeing the man for the first time. Carson was in his mid-thirties, tall, with an air of quiet control about him. "That explains the knots," you said. "He would’ve learned that skill in the Navy. And the flowers - he’s obsessed with perfection, cultivating these delicate orchids. It fits with how he views his victims."
Hotch nodded, already processing the next steps. "We need to move fast. He’s going to escalate, and the orchid show gives him an audience: a high-profile victim pool. He’ll want to make his statement soon."
The team sprang into action, coordinating with local authorities to track Carson down. You, Hotch, Rossi, and Gideon prepared to approach his house, a sprawling property on the outskirts of town, where Carson ran his own private orchid nursery.
As the team closed in, your heart pounded with anticipation. Carson’s house was an eerie reflection of his mind: immaculate, but with an unsettling coldness, orchids lined the windowsills and filled every room with their fragile beauty. It was a place of quiet obsession.
Rossi was the first to spot Carson. The man was in the greenhouse, meticulously pruning an orchid, completely unaware of the FBI’s presence. Hotch signaled for you to stay back as he and Rossi approached cautiously.
"Matthew Carson," Hotch called, his voice steady but firm.
Carson didn’t flinch. He continued trimming the orchid as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "You don’t understand," he said quietly, his voice calm but laced with underlying madness. "It’s about perfection. I’m creating something beautiful."
Hotch took a step closer. "You’re hurting people, Matthew. This isn’t beauty, it’s destruction."
Carson finally looked up, his eyes hollow yet intense. "They weren’t good enough. The flowers... they have to be perfect."
You could feel the tension in the air while Hotch was doing what he did best, calmly, methodically drawing Carson out, understanding his twisted mind.
"They’re not flowers, Matthew. They’re people," You said as Hotch took another step closer. You continued "You’re not creating beauty. You’re trying to control what you can’t, but perfection doesn’t exist."
Carson’s grip tightened on the shears in his hand, his knuckles turning white. "I can make it exist," he whispered.
Before he could act, Rossi moved swiftly, disarming Carson and pinning him to the ground, he struggled briefly but then went limp, as if the fight had left him entirely. The unsub’s calm shattered, and in that moment, you saw the deep fragility that had driven his madness.
"You think you understand, but you don’t," Carson muttered as he was handcuffed. "I was so close."
As Gideon secured Carson, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The case was over, but the weight of it still lingered but before you could start overthinking, you felt a hand on top of your left shoulder. Your heart skips a beat and you quickly turn around to what revealed to be Hotch “Good job on the case, partner” You shyly smile “Not so bad as your first case at all”
“I could say the same about you, especially on the way you handled Carson, but I bet someone like you is used to the myriad of compliments at this point.”
He rolled his eyes, then quickly moved towards Rossi before you could notice the smile tugged on his face - too late – you could see his dimples still showing even when he was far away from you.
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Later, on the train ride back to Quantico, you and Hotch found yourselves sitting across from each other. The case had drained everyone, you glanced at Hotch, who was staring out the window, lost in thought.
"So," you said, breaking the silence, curious to know something real about the man you shared a room with for the past two days "now that the case is over, are you going to admit that you do something other than work? Or is profiling literally your only hobby?"
Hotch turned to you, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," you said with a grin, "You must have to do something outside of this. You can't just spend all your downtime preparing for the next criminal mastermind, or developing conspiracy theories" His eyes went to his side, inviting you to glance at the older profilers. Rossi was conveniently standing up from his seat and leaning in front of Gideon, showing him something on a case file while simultaneously tracing small circles with the back of his pen on the papers the other was holding.
He gave you small smirk, his eyes twinkling with just a hint of mischief, then out of the blue he blurts out “I play the guitar."
You blinked, caught off guard. "You play the guitar?! Seriously?"
Hotch nodded, his expression casual, though you could tell he was enjoying your surprise. "Yeah. It’s something I picked up in college. Helps me unwind."
"Wait, wait, wait," you said, holding up a hand. "Aaron Hotchner, stoic, no-nonsense FBI agent extraordinaire, plays the guitar? I need proof. This sounds like a bluff."
He chuckled, the sound rare but genuine. "I don’t think I need to prove anything to you."
You leaned back in your seat, resting one hand on your forehead. "Unbelievable. I was so sure you didn’t have a hobby. I mean, by the way you work, I was starting to think someone else in the Bureau was keeping another big secret from us, C3-PO"
The unexpected Star Wars reference earned you a genuine laugh from him, then shook his head, a small smile still playing on his lips. "Just because I’m focused on the job doesn’t mean I don’t have other interests."
"Okay, fair enough," you admitted. "But now I’m really curious. What kind of music do you play? Classical? Rock? Please tell me it’s something totally unexpected, like heavy metal."
He laughed again, a sound you were quickly becoming fond of. "Mostly blues, actually."
You stared at him, wide-eyed. "Blues? Wow, that’s... I don’t know, I guess I expected you to say something like jazz or folk, but blues? That’s kind of badass."
Hotch gave a modest shrug. "It’s calming. Helps me think."
"I’m still wrapping my head around this," you said with a smirk. "I’m going to need to hear you play one day. Otherwise, I’m sticking with my theory that you’re secretly a robot who plays FBI agent."
He gave you a side-eye but couldn’t suppress his smile. "I’ll think about it, maybe after the next case if you’re still around"
You pretended to be offended by his words "Is this a threat?!”
“I was just trying to be encouraging”
Maybe working at the BAU wouldn’t be as intimidating as you first thought after all.
As the train rumbled on, you felt a sense of camaraderie with Hotch, a shared respect that had grown over the course of the case. You had proven yourself, and in return, he had let you see a side of him that few people probably ever did.
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crimson-and-clover-1717 · 2 months ago
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‘Beside the one you have waited for to be mated with…’.
I’m a huge champion of Stede and the power of his emotions. With that in mind, I feel it’s Stede’s emotional state and gender-nonconforming reactions which partly save his life in 109.
He tells Ed initially he will accept the firing squad, that the ‘bill has come due’. It’s a strange declaration because Stede certainly doesn’t deserve such punishment for leaving his family, and Stede also knows he didn’t mean to kill Nigel. But this is Stede’s self-loathing talking rather than a belief in natural justice.
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It might also be an attempt at ‘correct’ masculinity. Stede’s initial speech contains overused tropes, things he believes he should say as a man waiting to die. After all, he doesn’t want to appear ‘weak-hearted’ or ‘lily-livered.’ We get noble platitudes of deserving this fate and facing the music: ‘It’s time, Ed.’ Never mind this is what a man’s work looks like; rather, this is what a man’s death looks like: silent, stoic, accepting. Plus big boys don’t cry.
And if Stede had stood silently and taken his execution, I’m not always sure Ed would’ve intervened despite his own heartbreak. I don’t think Ed (or Izzy) would’ve seen another sunrise, but I don’t feel Ed would’ve taken away Stede’s agency.
But then Stede declares he wants to live after all. This is major character growth. There is a ‘Do you want to live?’ through-line from the Pilot’s passively suicidal that’s-a-tough-question Stede, to 103 gut-stabbed Stede, appearing rather resigned to his fate whilst standing on the barrel, to this Stede whose position is very different and very clear.
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We cut to Stede in a blindfold. He’s crying ‘I don’t wanna die’; and if you listen carefully, when it cuts to Ed, Stede cries out, ‘The bill hasn’t come due.’* Within minutes he is reneging on his previous words. Faced with death now, Stede’s instincts tell him he has something to stay alive for. And big boys do, in fact, cry - which might prove very powerful.
Meanwhile, other than the deserved punch, Ed seems oblivious to Izzy’s presence. Ed’s psychology is entirely tuned to Stede’s. And I feel it’s Stede’s uninhibited, emotional state, which pierces the workings of Ed’s mind in a way it’s never been before; and that causes Ed to find the answer, to shout, ‘Act of Grace.’
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It’s a reciprocity, the neurology between lifemates. It’s primal, you can see it in Ed’s face: Stede lives in his synapses. Stede cries out; Ed finds a way to save him.
And it works both ways. When Ed is the one who needs saving, banging his hand like an SOS, Stede finds the words instinctively, nurtures Ed back from the brink. There’s a synchronicity in how they hold each other’s lives in their hands.
These events are even more compelling between men who were never loved properly by the people who should have done so in their childhoods. They cried out to indifference or worse then, and learned to be silent. They cry out now, and the other half of their soul finds a way to rearrange the stars.
It’s nature’s law. Connections between people who love are powerful.
*stede also says something else afterwards I can never make out - ‘I…?’
Edit - ‘I unconfess’
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ficsilike-reblogged · 2 years ago
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Invisible Smoke - One
Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic.  Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 6.7k 
A/N: Tentatively dipping into the TGM fandom after months of lurking. I do subscribe to the belief that Jake likes women who are a bit mean to him, so I hope you enjoy that dynamic, too! I’m sure there will be general Naval inaccuracies but I tried. I grew up on Air Force bases so if I use an incorrect term, I apologize! Please let me know what you think! Trigger Warnings: This series will touch on themes of stalking, domestic violence, and attempted murder (not committed by Jake). Please do not read if this will upset you. You are responsible for the content you consume.
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It started slow.
For as long as Jake had known you, which was just over a year give or take, you had never been a jumpy person but everything now seemed to have your eyes darting from one corner of the hangar to the other, from one table at the Hard Deck to the next, as if you were waiting for something or someone to appear and do something.
But what was it?
Some Ensign fresh off the boat dropped a tray of beers and nearly had you leaping from your seat beside the pool tables before you settled again, an unsteady and unconvincing smile on your face when Jake turned to you. Your smile twitched, as did your grasp on the drink (which you swore was actually called Bee’s Knees) in your hand.
“What is going on with you?” He asked, after shoving the pool stick into Coyote’s hand for a moment to step to your side.
Your smile continued to twitch but you shook your head. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” You took a sip of your pastel yellow drink before setting it aside to wrap a hand over his arm and squeeze once. “Go back to your game, Jake. I’m okay.”
Jake didn’t believe you. Mostly because that was probably the first time you said his name without an accompanying smirk.
He didn’t believe you when he saw you murmur something to Rooster a few minutes later and the man quickly drained the rest of his beer before leading you out to the parking lot with a hand on your back and then Rooster came back in alone. He didn’t believe you when you only gave him a thumbs up emoji when he asked if you got home okay. He didn’t believe you when you said you weren’t feeling well and wouldn’t be able to make it to the beach for brunch with the Daggers on Sunday morning.
Something was going on with you and Jake was determined to find out what. After all, you were his favorite mechanic. And, apparently, you were also Rooster’s. And Bob’s. And Phoenix’s, too. Even Maverick had a soft spot for you and Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy were quickly growing attached, as well. He wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of the Dagger Squad preferred you to the other mechanics. And no, Jake didn’t hate that at all. After he’d been called back to Top Gun and then the Dagger Squad had been made into a permanent detachment, Jake had noticed that you were…special.
And that was the only word he would allow himself to call you. Well, aside from “Punch,” your unofficially-official nickname around base because you’d once dropped a punch toolkit on an admiral’s foot, according to Rooster.
Jake’s first glimpse of you had been at the hangar a few days into the uranium mission training and you and Rooster had snuck off to some deserted hallway. Jake, of course, had followed, thinking he was going to have something to needle his cohort with but instead he saw you–in your mechanic’s jumpsuit and engine oil on your cheek basically scolding the pilot. “You are so fucking lucky he didn’t wash you out with that attitude.”
“He-”
“Stop. Show him you were always meant to be here. Be the best damn fighter pilot he’s ever seen and nothing else.”
Rooster was quiet for a moment before nodding, his chin nearly falling to his chest. You sighed and quickly wrapped him in a hug, only smiling when Rooster kissed your cheek and whispered something in your ear.
You had a similar, secretive meeting with Bob in the shadows of an unused classroom on base a few days later when Harvard and Yale were busy getting their asses handed to them by Mav. Jake had stepped out to grab something from his locker to show Javy when he spotted you…and Bob looking quite chummy as you whispered to each other as you looked at something on his phone. Jake stopped looking (like a creep) when you murmured something to Bob which apparently earned you a kiss to the temple in return.
And the first time he heard you laugh was when you were looking over Phoenix’s new plane after that fateful birdstrike. Your nose scrunched with it, head tipped back and sun shining on your face. The noise grew louder after Phoenix said something else and you nearly lost your grip on the wrench in your hand.
Those three had kept you like a secret. And Jake had wanted to know why. You were funny and smart and maybe a little mean. “Kill Streak Ken Doll” had apparently been your nickname for him before being properly introduced and it only came back out when he said something you thought was stupid. “That plastic head of yours is full of air today, huh, Ken?” But you were always happy to make sure the Squad got home safe after a night of drinking, well earned after a hard training day. You were usually the first one anyone called if they needed a lift or a favor or just a shoulder to lean on. And Jake was no exception. Once he had earned your friendship with gentle prodding and Snickers ice cream (but he would wager that saving Rooster may have contributed to your softening to him), he wasn’t sure what he would do without—without you—even if you did seem to make it a personal mission to keep his ego in check. All of the Daggers knew their relationship with you was bordering on inappropriate—you were enlisted instead of an officer. A subordinate to their ranks. And several years younger than most of them. You were one of the few tasked with maintaining the internal mechanics of the million dollar jets they piloted. But there was just something about you that didn’t allow them to keep you away.
God. You were…special.
**
This was better. This was safer. At least that was what you told yourself. You’d skipped out on the brunch date on the beach with the Daggers to put another three locks on your door. Your landlord didn’t mind, thankfully, but the man at the hardware store that had rung up your purchase definitely thought you were insane.
As you finished with the last lock and then added the three keys to your ring, your phone chirped with a new text. It was from Jake, asking if you needed anything since you’d told everyone you weren’t feeling well to get out of the beach get-together. You typed out a half-hearted, Unlike you, I know how to operate a can opener so I can have soup. But thanks anyway! X Was it your best retort? No. But you were running on four hours of sleep and a cup of green tea. And it wasn’t as if Jake was unaccustomed to your shitty attitude. There was just something about him that had your hackles raising and your sarcasm and snark were your only line of defense. Which was ridiculous because he was nice to you! So nice! And funny! And kind when he wanted to be. He always said please and thank you when you picked up beers for the beach or when you were assigned his super hornet for the day. He was nice. Maybe a little (a lot) cocky. Maybe a little arrogant.
But god he was beautiful. A good friend. And special in a way you didn’t like to think about. And you were 99% sure he’d caught you ogling his arms and hands an embarrassing amount of times when your resolution slipped and your daydreams had run rampant for more than a moment.
And that was exactly why you knew you needed to keep him at arm's length. You had enough people tangled up in your bullshit.
Your eyes dragged over to the crumpled note sitting on the edge of your small dining table. It was almost pathetic how easily a simple piece of paper and a bit of ink had upended your life. It had been stuck beneath your windshield wiper when your car was parked outside your favorite off-base grocery store. One you had frequented for nearly two and a half years. You were supposed to be safe. You thought you had been. Maybe that’s why you had let your guard down. You weren’t as vigilant.
See you soon
Three little words and your world had turned upside down.
**
Monday morning had been a blur of meetings and paperwork. Jake had been stuck filling out forms about possible training exercises for the next week. Maverick had tasked each of them with coming up with new ways to approach various targets and Jake had a sneaking suspicion that the Dagger Squad would be asked to teach a lesson or two to the next Top Gun class.
He called it quits on his near-impossible flight plans around lunch and wandered toward the minuscule break room to retrieve his food but paused as he heard Maverick call your name. You swept by the break room, leaving behind a scent of gardenias and sunshine that almost always had Jake’s mouth curling at the corners, and moved further down the hall. So, Jake crept closer to the break room door, chicken and broccoli forgotten for a moment. He had to strain to hear anything above a low murmur and eventually gave up and stepped back into the hall, trying to stuff down the realization that he’d followed you too many times for this to be considered friendly curiosity. But he ignored that, too. Just like how he could only call you special. A few yards away, he spotted you, back turned as you spoke to Maverick just outside the captain’s office.
Maverick’s brow pinched as you shook your head, wiping a hand down your face. He said something else before squeezing your arm once and walking away, thankfully turning the other way so he didn’t spot Jake lurking like a creep. And Jake waited exactly eighteen seconds before approaching you, watching as your shoulders slumped.
“You okay?”
You jumped, again, before a familiar smirk settled on your lips. “Checking up on me?”
“That so hard to believe?”
You hummed, fingers fiddling with the uniform button at your neck as your gaze flittered away. “I’m fine, Jake. Promise.”
“What did Mav want?”
Just for a moment, you faltered, before you slapped an exaggerated pout on your features and you set a hand on your hip. “Poor guy. He asked me to be his and Penny’s third. Had to turn him down. But you’ve got a thing for them, don’t you? I can put in a good word for you.”
Jake suppressed a sigh and moved to set a hand on your shoulder when you flinched.
Flinched.
It took the air right out of Jake’s lungs. “Hey, I-I wasn’t going to…I wasn’t going to hit you.”
Your hands curled into fists at your sides for a moment before quickly releasing. “Yeah, I know, Ken. I know.” The usual heat was absent from the nickname. “Just been jumpy lately.”
“I noticed.” A lot.
“Nothing gets past you, huh? I knew there was more to you than a pretty face.” Your smirk didn’t stretch quite as far across your face as it usually did. This wasn’t fun and something twisted behind his ribs when the last vestiges of your smirk fizzled out as you turned and crooked a finger over your shoulder at him. “Is there something you needed, Lieutenant?” You asked as you led him down the hall toward your office, a small little room compared to his, grouped near the rest of the Aviation Machinist Mates stationed here—why the Navy shortened your official title to “AD” was just ridiculous to Jake but that was neither here nor there.
“Do you have the maintenance logs for the incoming class?” He asked, knowing you’d have them; he didn’t actually need them but it wasn’t as if he could admit to…well, anything. Not even to himself. You didn’t seem to suspect any ulterior motives and quickly pulled them from the cabinet and handed them over. He stole some candy from the bowl beside your keyboard as he looked over the printouts, not reading a damn word. Not when you were so close, flooding his senses with the scent of gardenias and your laughter was in his ear.
“I’m surprised you eat anything with sugar.”
“Why?” He asked, closing the useless folder shut with a snap and tucking it beneath his arm.
You waved a hand at him as if that would answer his question as you settled in your little chair behind the desk. “Well, I guess your abs really are plastic then.”
He had a retort. He did, truly. But it faded away as he caught sight of the small collection of pictures arranged neatly on the corner of your desk. There was one of you and Bob—you were in a (short) dress Jake had never seen and you were pressing a kiss to his cheek hard enough to knock his glasses askew with a birthday cake aglow in front of him. The next was of you and Rooster, looking like you were standing just outside the annual Naval Ball celebrations if Rooster’s whites and your beautiful gown were any indication. Then there was you and Phoenix standing in front of Phoenix’s jet. You had a helmet with Punch written across the top tucked beneath your arm and the biggest smile on your face. Jake had never seen you smile that wide. But it was the last picture that gave Jake pause. It was of you wrapping your arms around a man Jake had never seen, who was wearing a graduation cap and gown; the man was smiling broadly and you were looking at him with all the adoration you could muster, a gentle smile on your lips. Another woman, who looked just enough like you to give him even more questions, had her arms wrapped around both you and the mystery guy, a large smile on her face.
Jake grasped at the small frame and turned toward you, trying to ignore how it felt like someone had taken a bat to his stomach for the second time in five minutes. “Who’s this?”
You grabbed the picture from him with a frown and set it back down in its spot, fussing around the frames for a moment. “That’s my brother and sister.”
“I didn’t know you had siblings.”
You shrugged but didn’t look at him. “You never asked. Is there something else you need?”
Yeah. There were dozens of things he needed. And right now most of them revolved around you. “No, Punch. But thanks for this.” He drummed his fingers against the folder and tried not to grimace when you didn’t look up from your computer as he neared the office door.
For all the time he spent thinking about you, he didn’t know you at all, did he?
**
You needed to get more sleep. All the tea you were inhaling to make up for the lack of rest was starting to grate on you. The work you were handling on the Dagger Squad’s planes was slower, mostly because you were worried about missing something, but you were still methodical when double checking everything. You knew that your work kept your aviators safe; skipping corners because you didn’t sleep well wasn’t an option. So, if your counterparts looked at you funny for staring at your punches or wrenches for a beat or two too long, you didn’t really care. You left late for lunch and came back early. You didn’t leave your post until a full two and a half hours later than you usually did, but, again, you didn’t mind. You felt safe in the hangar and making sure everyone was safe when in the air was enough to keep you coherent and focused on your job. Everything else didn’t matter when you had a tool in your hand and your head buried in a jet engine.
But when you stepped out of the locker room shower, engine oil still circling the drain, your mind almost immediately conjured the thought of the tracking device you’d found in your rear wheel well this morning. It had been sheer luck that you even spotted it, the sun hitting the silver duct tape just right as you locked your door. In a moment of panic, you ripped it off your car and stuck it on one of the trash cans near the hangar. It wouldn’t help anything—he probably already knew where you lived but at least now he would have a few days spent trying to figure out why you were going back and forth between the hangar and the dump. It was a minuscule solace.
You climbed into your car with a muted groan just as your phone chirped, reminding you that you had several unread messages. You opened them and a wave of self-loathing washed over you. Natasha, Bob, Bradley, and Jake had all invited you out to the Hard Deck for drinks. It’s been a shitty day! Tasha’s read. She had no idea and you weren’t about to tell her. You apologized to them all, copy and pasting your response, telling them you’d buy a round next time but you were too tired tonight. It was easy enough. But Jake had responded before you could even throw your phone into the passenger seat.
Do you need anything?
You tapped your phone against your mouth for a moment, hating the urge to tell him anything…everything. Instead, you typed out: Sleep, Ken. I need sleep. Reading comprehension isn’t your strong suit.
You tossed your phone into the cup holder in the center console and pulled out of the hangar’s parking lot, hoping that there’d be no more surprises tonight.
**
Jake stared down at his phone and frowned at your message. You were really off your game. And had been for too long. Something was wrong.
“You’re up, Bagman.”
Jake looked up to see Phoenix holding a pool cue out to him. But he didn’t move to take it. “Does Punch seem off to you lately?”
Phoenix frowned, grip tightening on the cue for a moment. “She’s tired. That’s what she said, right?”
Jake nodded but glanced down at his phone again, as if willing it to light up with another message. But all he saw was his face staring back at him in the reflection. Now, Jake had been working on being nicer since the Dagger Squad had become a permanent detachment. These people would have his back and counted on him to have theirs. It had been slow going, Jake would admit. His best friend was still Javy and the others were happy to remind him of his shortcomings whenever Hangman superseded Jake. But he knew they all cared about each other in a strange, ragtag family type of way. They cared about you. They knew you. “How do you know her? I mean, you obviously knew her before we were all stationed here.”
The woman paused for a moment, as if she was contemplating actually telling him, before shrugging. “We were stationed together in Hawaii. My then-girlfriend tried to cheat on me with her,” Phoenix said, breezily as she took the seat next to him. “I walked in on them. Poor Punch didn’t know I existed before the near-hook up and apologized like ten times on her way out and then tracked me down at the hangar the next day with six different drinks from the coffee shop because she wanted to apologize properly but didn’t know my favorite. She was just so…”
“Punch.” That was you, doing too much to make up for something that wasn’t your fault and weaseling your way into someone’s affections without even meaning to do so. You’d also accidentally revealed your bisexuality to the rest of the Dagger Squad during a ramble when you thought you’d stepped on Fanboy’s toes by insinuating he had a girlfriend. (You only stopped when Phoenix patted your hand with a laugh and said she understood with a wink.)
Phoenix laughed. “Yeah, she was just so Punch. Couldn’t be mad at her if I tried. And it seemed like we both needed a friend.” She shook her head, a fond smile on her face, before she glanced up. “Bob, you met Punch on deployment, didn’t you?”
Jake looked up to see Bob standing near him, a cup of peanuts in one hand, pool cue in the other. Jake stopped being surprised by Bob’s stealthy movements only a few months ago. The WSO nodded. “She was the only one who remembered my birthday and set up a video call with my family to surprise me. There was also an attempt at a cake but that didn’t end well.”
“She can’t bake?” Jake asked, not caring at all. He could bake. His specialty was a Victoria sponge.
Bob smiled, the smallest curling of the corners of his mouth. “Nearly set the kitchens on fire. And then she got mad at me when I actually tried to eat it. Now, if we’re both stateside for my birthday, she makes sure to have a cake sent to me from whatever bakery is nearest my base if she can’t make it out herself.”
Something in Jake’s chest twisted. Special. You were special.
And Jake hadn’t realized he said that out loud until Bob was agreeing with him. “She is.”
“You think there’s something going on with her?” Phoenix asked.
“She seems tired,” Bob said, voice level. “Why do you ask?” Leave it to Bob to be tactfully evasive.
“You know, you should ask Rooster. He’s known her the longest.” Phoenix called the man in question over before Jake could even try to stop her. And Bradshaw fucking sauntered over, stupid Hawaiian shirt flapping with each step. He must have a cache of them in the Bronco.
“What do you need, Trace?” He asked, his usual small smile on his face.
“Hangman’s been asking about Punch. You met her first, right?”
Bradshaw stiffened for a moment. “Yeah. She was fresh out of training and stationed with me in South Carolina. We met up again in the desert a few years later.” Jake didn’t like how the other man crossed his arms with a frown after answering. “You trying to pull something, Bagman?”
And Jake definitely didn’t like that either. Would that be so bad? Really? “I’m just worried about her, Rooster. She’s been off.”
At least Phoenix seemed to be on his side, jamming the end of her pool cue into Rooster’s foot, earning a frown before his hand knocked it away. “She has been a little quiet lately.”
Jake caught the look Rooster gave Bob before he turned back to the group. “Has she said anything to you guys?”
“No. That’s why I was asking.” Jake stared at Bradshaw and Bradshaw stared right back. He could have asked what he was hiding or why he immediately got defensive when questioned about you.
But Fanboy walked up with a quick, “are you guys just gonna hold the pool cues all night or are you actually going to play?” and the opportunity was gone, Bob slipping away and Phoenix pulling Rooster along as she stepped toward the pool tables.
Jake glanced down at his phone again. Still no message. He may have learned something about you, but now he just had more questions.
**
This was fine. Everything was fine.
It had been about a week and you hadn’t received any other notes or discovered anything else. And you still couldn’t sleep. It felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff and just waiting to fall. Waiting for something to happen. Work was your refuge and the trip you took out to visit Missus Kazansky for dinner. She had held your face in her hands as you set aside your bowl of half-finished ice cream and had tried to pry, in her soft-toned motherly way, “you’re looking a little tired, sweetheart. Something you want to tell me?”
And maybe you could have told her. The Kazansky family had been good to you since you had been stationed here, a family that welcomed you with open arms; you had tried to repay their kindness as best you could and you weren’t about to put more on Sarah’s plate. It had only been a year since Tom’s passing. They had done more than enough for you. You could handle this on your own, right? “I’m okay. Just been helping Bradley take his mind off his promotion boards.” And Tasha. And Bob. In some strange twist of fate, the Navy had determined that the entirety of the Dagger Squad was eligible for promotion. While there was little you could do aside from helping them improve their running times and how many push-ups they could do, you still tried to be optimistic on their behalf and distracted them with dinners in the break room on base and a late night run down to the beach for drinks under the stars.
“That’s right! He’s up for Lieutenant Commander, isn’t he? Such a smart boy.”
By the time you left, Sarah had heard all about the Dagger Squad’s adventures in pushing the envelope (and rising Admiral Simpson’s blood pressure) in their dogfight maneuvers and you had learned that the Kazansky kids were doing well—Junior had proposed to his girlfriend (a young woman named Taylor who you had met a handful of times) and Lily was sailing through the last semester of her undergraduate program and was already being wooed by some big wigs in the Navy who knew her last name. It was good and lovely and a bubble of security that popped the moment you buckled yourself into your car.
A quick glance in your rear view mirror as you went to throw your car into reverse had you nearly screaming. A shadowed figure of a man was standing at the end of the driveway, tall and menacing. A knock at your window had you jumping but you pressed a smile to your face when you saw Sarah waiting on the other side. Rolling down your window, you asked, “did I forget something?”
She waved the question away as you chanced a glance in your rear view mirror again—the man was gone. “It completely slipped my mind but I’m throwing an engagement party for Junior and Taylor next Friday. You’ll come, won’t you? It has been too long since I’ve had all of you in one place.”
You could never say no to Sarah and you were nodding before she even finished. “Of course. Just let me know if you need me to help with anything.”
Sarah shook her head with a small smile. “You are always so willing to help, sweetheart. I just want you to have a good time. It’ll just be here at the house, starts at 7. Invite a friend to come with you,” she added with a knowing smile.
“I’ll be there.” You hated that a tremor marred the last word, shaking it between your teeth.
But Sarah didn’t seem to hear it as another smile graced her features and she tapped her knuckles on the edge of your window. “Perfect.”
After shooing her back inside and making her promise to lock the door, you sucked in another breath and looked back. If you were expecting the man to be there again or not, you couldn’t tell. But the driveway was empty and you drove home, ignoring how your fingers shook on the steering wheel. Maybe it was just someone out for a walk, making sure you didn’t run them over. Maybe it wasn’t him.
It wasn’t him.
It wasn’t him.
It wasn’t him.
You repeated it to yourself until you slipped into a fitful sleep, and you continued to repeat it to yourself as you tightened and tweaked various bits and pieces on Bradley’s jet as the Dagger Squad each took a turn to speak to the incoming Top Gun class that you had, honestly, forgotten about. It was a mantra through the rest of the week; a small solace was that everyone else seemed to be on edge, too, as they waited for their results. The voice only went quiet when Bob wrapped you in a hug at five-thirty in the morning, beating you to the hangar on Friday, and murmured that the entire Dagger Squadron had been selected for promotion. They’d made it.
“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered as you returned the hug.
“Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I’m sure you would’ve been just fine, Bobert,” you said as you pulled back with a shake of your head.
He tried to scowl at the nickname and pressed a finger against your nose until you knocked his hand away with a smile. “Seriously, Punch. Thank you.”
That was all it took, really. Seeing your friends happy pushed everything else to the back of your mind. The work day was all but lost as everyone was buzzing with excitement which only heightened when Admiral Simpson gave the Dagger Squad free reign in the skies for a few hours to celebrate, the barest hints of a smile on his face. Celebratory drinks were basically demanded when the day finished and Tasha and Callie made you promise to show up with matching, pleading looks that you could never say no to, even if you wanted. So, as the sun started to set, you stepped out of your little car, feeling bits of sand shift beneath your shoes, and toward the Hard Deck that was already teeming with Naval Aviators and other sailors, ready to celebrate the end of the week and the shiny new pins they’d soon have on their collars.
Bradley wrapped you in a hug just before you stepped up to the bar and spun you around and held you tight as his laughter rumbled in your ear. His mustache brushed across your temple before he pressed a quick kiss to your skin, feeling him smile. “You’ll be there, won’t you? When I get those little leaves?”
You snorted at the way he referenced the new rank insignias he would get. “‘Course. Wouldn’t miss it.” Not if you could help it.
**
The Navy had a lot of strange customs and regulations, but the “wetting-down” celebration was probably one of the loudest. Whenever an officer was promoted, a party was thrown and it was customary to hear razzing speeches from friends, sometimes family, and commanding officers while the recently promoted paid for everything. Maverick had taken the first speech, followed by Hondo, and even Cyclone got up to say a few words, his green eyes just barely hazing with the to shelf alcohol he’d been nursing all night. A few of the ground crew managed to snag the microphone next and sang a gloriously off key rendition of the Village People’s “In The Navy.”
And Jake did try to take it all in. Really, he did. But something he wouldn’t and couldn’t name had him searching for you in the crowd. He wasn’t sure where you found the time to change but Jake wasn’t complaining. God. You were gorgeous. Always had been, always would be. But the dress you had on now was something special. Some sort of floral print on light blue fabric, pretty and understated. What was not understated was the way your breasts were straining against the top nor the slit that went to the middle of your right thigh, as if trying to balance out the length of the skirt that reached your calves.
And right now, you were sitting with Rooster at the piano, letting him teach you how to play. It was quieter than Rooster’s usual showboating performance and the jukebox was still rattling with some 80s Top 40 to mask the notes you couldn’t quite hit. But you were smiling and Jake took a swig of his beer as he turned back to the pool game—he and Javy were currently beating Harvard and Yale. As he lined up his next shot, he saw Rooster make you laugh and you leaned into his side for a moment. For the umpteenth time, something twisted behind Jake’s ribs. The ball sunk just as you stood from the piano bench and made your way toward Penny as she manned the bar.
And because luck or just plain talent (why not both) was on their side, Javy sank the eight ball next, winning the game. Yale called for an immediate rematch before Phoenix yanked the cue out of his hands and told him to tend to his bruised ego over darts. Jake barely heard any of it as he slid up to the bar after clapping Javy on the shoulder and let your perfume curl around him as he stood beside you; gardenias and musk was probably written on the bottle of whatever you sprayed on, but he could still smell the engine oil that lingered. It was just…you.
“And a Bee's Knees for you, Punch,” Penny said, sliding the pastel yellow drink in your direction.
“Thank you, Penny.”
You went to pull your wallet out of your purse when Jake handed over his card instead. “Put her little drink on my tab, Penny.”
Before Penny could move, you grabbed Jake’s card and tossed it over your shoulder. Penny stifled her surprised laugh behind her hand as Jake groaned and bent to pick up the card. If he took a little longer to stand straight because he appreciated how high the slit in your sundress was, that was between him and God.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, Punch,” Jake drawled as he reached his full height again, watching you tip the coupe glass toward your lips. “But I just made Lieutenant Commander. I can afford to buy you your fruity drink. And it is tradition that I buy the drinks.” Jake resisted the urge to smirk when your eyes tracked over him, lingering (if he was a betting man) on his arms as they crossed across his chest. But the saccharine smile pushing at your mouth quickly deflated any sort of satisfaction from knowing you were checking him out. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught you looking at him but you never seemed to let him enjoy that.
“Technically, any of the people who were just promoted could buy my drink.” And that was true. As if asking him to refute it, you pressed your side against the well-worn wood of the bar and arched a brow after you pulled a few bills from your purse and stuffed them in the tip jar. God, you were…special. Yeah. That was definitely the word Jake wanted to use. Special. “Could you put my drink on Bob’s tab, please?”
Penny’s eyes moved from you to Jake before nodding, fighting another smile. “Sure thing, Punch. He has the smallest tab right now anyway.”
And that was probably why you did it, not adding too much to someone else’s ledger. But still. “Would it kill you to let me buy you a drink?” Jake asked.
You shrugged and took another sip. “It might. Best not to tempt it.” And then he watched you walk away, hips swaying with each step.
Penny’s laugh had Jake nearly blushing as he turned back to the bar. “Can I get another round of-”
She waved him off, still smiling, and Jake knew not to take it personally. “You got it.”
The party carried on and Jake busied himself with dancing, more pool, and beating everyone who challenged him to a round of darts. But, he found himself still looking for you in the crowd and smiling when he heard your laugh. He almost missed an easy shot in a game against Phoenix and Halo when he spotted Bob trying to teach you how to two step while some old Tim McGraw song rattled out of the jukebox. You were bad at it, but you still laughed, and didn’t seem to mind when Bob set his hands on your hips and tried to correct, well, everything. When the song finished, you seemed to be excusing yourself for the night and moved to grab your purse from where it sat next to Halo’s and Phoenix’s bags. You started, as you always did, to make your rounds to say goodbye to everyone you knew. The last bunch was the group stationed near the pool tables and you happily accepted the hugs from Phoenix, Halo, and Javy, before turning toward him.
He could have accepted the hug you were going to give him, arms outstretched and waiting. He could have tucked his face into the curve of your neck and inhaled more of your gardenia perfume and then happily watched you walk away. But instead, he said, “lemme walk you out to your car.”
Again, you arched a brow as you glanced at the pool table. The game was clearly not finished. “Your southern gentleman schtick is not necessary, Ken. Don’t think I’ll get lost in the parking lot.”
“I am a gentleman.”
Both Phoenix and Halo scoffed, albeit good naturedly, but Jake did see Javy nodding in agreement out of the corner of his eye.
Your mouth twisted to the side and Jake knew you were trying not to smile, making that same twisting sensation engulf his chest. “Sure. I definitely believe that. But fine, you can walk me to my car. But when you get lost on your way back inside, you have to promise me to use all that special Naval training to get back to your game. You know which way is north, right?”
Jake didn’t even mind the insinuation and leaned the pool cue against the table and stepped to your side, fighting the urge to set his hand on the small of your back before opening the door for you. Again, the scent of gardenias nearly bowled him over as you slipped by him with a murmured ‘thank you.’ The pair of you were quiet as you led the way to your car near the edge of the lot but Jake didn’t mind.
You fished your keys out of your purse as you reached your car and turned toward him with a smirk and Jake just knew you were going to say something about needing Javy needing to come rescue him. You opened your mouth but your gaze darted just beyond his shoulder. Then something crossed your face that he had never seen before. Your eyes went wide as your teeth clacked together with how quickly you shut your mouth. The keys fell from your hand and bounced off your shoe. And before Jake could even move to grab them, you had scooped them up again and you cursed as the key scraped against the yellow paint of your car instead of pushing into the keyhole.
“Thanks for walking me out.” Your voice was small. Too small.
“Punch-”
You threw your door open and slid inside, slamming it behind you just before the engine roared to life. The window rolled down and you had a shaky, small smile on your face. “Get inside. I’ll see you Monday. Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander.” And then you were pulling away, the tail lights of your car growing smaller by the moment as you peeled out.
What happened? What did you see? Jake turned to look where he thought you spotted something and saw nothing. There was a man further down the beach and a couple walking hand-in-hand coming closer. There was nothing threatening about either of them.
But still.
Jake had never seen you look like that before. You were scared. All of the jumpiness, all of the flinching, all of the ditching of plans. It made sense now. Something or someone was scaring you. And now he had to know why.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!If you’re interested, the unofficial soundtrack to this fic includes: “Archer” by Taylor Swift, “Talk to Me” by Stevie Nicks, “Pancakes for Dinner” by Lizzy McAlpine, “Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard” by Lana Del Rey, and “Golden Age” by Ethel Cain.
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hotwritergf · 8 months ago
Note
I have a habbit of messing up peoples names, ive called my mom my brothers name. Sometimes ill start with someone elses name and correct myself like sara-mily or i get it early so its just the first letter like saying ch-steve
I was just thinking about bestfriends eddie x reader where reader accidentally calls eddie daddy because theyre so similar. She goes to say a d name but catches herself and says eddie. She was talking fast and didnt even catch herself saying it until eddies like "did you just call me daddy?"
Accidentally calling Eddie ‘Daddy’. Eddie Munson x female reader. Blurb. Fluff.
I hope this is okay, I’m sick at the moment so it’s kinda self indulgent but I tried to personalise it a bit for you!
The night was like any other of yours and Eddie’s movie nights. Bags of candy spilled out on the floor, blankets swallowing you both up and a blunt being passed between you. Today was tiring, work couldn’t be more stressful and of course you were understaffed. Eddie came to pick you up at closing time, he already had your cup of tea in his cup-holder. It was the small things you appreciated the most from your best friend.
You had your head on his chest, because Eddie said “it will help your migraine I promise.” You wanted to believe him but the smirk on his face just showed he wanted to look after you. Eddie held his palm to your forehead, “you’re burning up a little, I’ll get you some medicine. Wait right here.” He ushers himself out from the blankets and into the kitchen. Rooting through the cupboards as you pause the movie, he reappears holding a bottle and a medicine spoon. Pouring the contents onto the spoon, “open up darling” he smirks as he feeds you.
You wince at the taste of the bitter medicine, swiftly taking a swig of your soda to wash away the taste. Wiping your mouth you whisper, “thank you d-daddy” “e-Eddie I meant Eddie!!” Your face flushes immediately, wanting the ground to swallow you up as you blurt out your sentence. Your brain was on auto pilot and Eddie and Daddy sounded far too similar for your mouth to comprehend whilst you’re suffering so bad with your migraine.
“What was that? Did you just call me daddy?” Eddie smirks, teasing you as he pulls your hands away from your blushing face.
“I- no! The words got scrambled in my head m’sorry I’m so embarrassed, I’m sorry.” You pull away from Eddie’s touch, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your head on them. Terrified that you’ve ruined your friendship, how could Eddie not see you differently after calling him that? A word so not-inherently bad but turned kinky and shameful, he could assume you’re into that. Not that it would be a bad thing to be kinky, you just weren’t.
“Hey hey hey.” Eddie pulls at your arms, “just look at me.” His voice is like velvet, so comforting but you’re shaking. Wishing you could be ignorant and never face this issue. “Come on princess, just want to see you smile.” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice.
You stick to your guns, refusing to move and face him. “You leave me no choice then, I didn’t want to do this sweetheart. But you asked for this..” Eddie coos into your ear before teasing his fingers over your neck, ghosting over your skin and down to your sides. He pokes and prods your ribs, flailing back into Eddie’s chest, trying to swat at his hands to put an end to his ticklish assault.
“Okay! Okay!” You plead, holding on to Eddie’s wrists and looking deep into his eyes. He stills his hands, holding yours and dropping them into his lap. “I didn’t mean to say it Eddie, honestly.” Your voice stuttering as you whimpered. “It’s not a big deal. Seriously, I understand. You do that a lot with words, I’ve seen it. You’re okay. It’s okay. We’re okay.” A mischievous smile spreads over his face when he sees you let go of the breath you’ve been holding for the entire moment. Sighing, you let yourself smile, feeling safe knowing that Eddie doesn’t judge you.
“There’s that smile. Gotta hear that laugh too, you know, for daddy?” He teases before jumping on top of you and tickling you again.
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obessedwithfictionalmen · 10 months ago
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I'll come pick it up after pt.10
John Egan X Female! Reader
Sumarry: When Egan doesn't come back from a mission. His nurse reads the letter he left for her.
Warning: Sadness/ mention of death/ historical inaccuracies/ crying/ Swearing/ use of y/n/
Word count: 980 words.
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When she saw that only one plane was coming back, her heart sank. Harry Crosby was next to her; he hadn’t gone up because he got promoted to a desk office. ‘’That’s it?’’ he breathed out. She didn’t respond, she was in shock, where was he? This was the plane of Major Robert Rosenthal, but the guys called him Rosie. Bucky didn’t come home, all the guys except Rosie’s crew didn’t make it. When she saw the look on the boys faces, it said it all. Lemmons was trying to get information. ‘’Anyone else?’’ he asked. Y/n snapped. ‘’Do you see anymore planes Lemmons?!’’ she pointed out, her voice breaking in the process. Luckly, Rosie’s crew only had one man injured, so she could let the girls handle it. While she was going to go get Bucky’s letter.
7 hours earlier
‘’Darling, listen to me, if something goes wrong – ‘’ Y/n cut him off, she didn’t want to hear what he had to say, especially if it concerned his death. She sook her head, tears rising in her eyes. ‘’Don’t say that Bucky, you’ll come back, you always do’’ she said. He took both of her hands and kissed them; it was hard for him too. ‘’Please, listen to me, I know you don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say. Please listen’’ he pleaded. A tear rolled down her face, she knew this mission was going to be different than the others. ‘’If somethings happen to me, I want you to go get the letter that I wrote for you. It’s under my pillow. Read it only if I don’t come back.’’ He was fighting the urge to cry himself, the idea of breaking her heart if he didn’t come back was eating him alive. ‘’Promise me, darling.’’ He said, looking in her eyes. She avoided eye contact, he’d seen her cry before, but it wasn’t because of him. Now, she might lose him, and it was breaking her heart. ‘’I promise, but promise you’ll do everything to get back to me’’ she sobbed. ‘’I promise’’ he said. They hugged for what felt like hours, she sobbed in his arms, he cried in silence.
Now
Harry Crosby accompanied her to Bucky’s bed; he was kind of a moral support and he had to make sure she knew where his bed was. ‘’Do you want me to leave?’’ he asked her. ‘’No, but can I have privacy?’’ she said, louder than a whisper. He nodded and waited for her outside. She slipped her hand under his pillow and saw the envelope with her name written on in. She took a shaky breath before opening the letter.
My dear Y/n,
If you’re reading this, something went wrong. I’m either dead or a war prisoner. I’m sorry for not coming back, darling, I know I promised you to. I want you to know that I love you more than anything in the world. The second I laid my eyes on you; I knew that I was head over heels in love with you. Meeting you was like listening to a song for the first time, and knowing it was going to be my favorite. It’s not every day you ask your co-pilot to punch you for a girl. I was too scared to tell you that I love you or ask you to be my girl, even though I think it was clear that you were mine. I loved being with you. We had a way of being quiet together, like the silence between us was enough to say everything, like in your office the other day. Y/n, if I’m dead, I want you to know that my last thought was of you, and the beautiful night we spent together, that’s the night I knew that I wanted to have you in my life. If I’m in a prisoner’s camp, trust me, I’m already planning my escape to come back to you. In the envelope, you’ll find my necklace. I want you to have it, it looked better on you anyway, you’ll also find a ring, it was my grandmother’s. She gave it to me one day, saying I should give it to the girl that I’m sure to marry, and that’s you. So, if I come back, we’ll get married, and if I don’t come back, you have the ring anyway, because I want to marry you. Take care of Meatball for me. I love you, darling, you're all I wanted love to be.
Forever yours, John ‘Bucky’ Egan.
Y/n whipped her tears as she folded the letter again, she looked inside the envelope, seeing his necklace and the ring. She put the chain round her neck and the ring on her ring finger. It was a simple gold ring, with a pearl on top of it. It was really pretty, and it fitted her perfectly. In her heart, she hoped he was in a camp, so he could come back to her, her heart couldn’t bear the idea of him dead. Harry Crosby heard her wailing, his heart broke, she was usually a happy person, she was a real sunshine, hearing her cry like this made him sad. When he entered the room, she was lying on her side, hugging his pillow, it smelled like him. She was sobbing till the point that her body started to shake. He sat on the bed in front of her. ‘’I couldn’t tell him that I love him’’ she sobbed. ‘’I’m sure he knew it’’ he whispered.
He was in fucking Germany! Surrounded by water and plants, with two men chasing him with guns. But he must live, for her, he promised her he was going to get back, he will. He has to marry her; he can’t let her alone. That’s what he was telling himself: Get back to Y/n. He had too.
Part 11⬇️
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bidisasterevankinard · 9 months ago
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I can't imagine a world with you gone
bucktommy / T / 3981
Buck was happy with Tommy and he wanted him to know it. He wanted to tell Tommy in words how he felt about him. But of course the moment Buck said the words “I’m happy”, universe said “Fuck you”. In the worst way possible. Or Buck has to see how universe tries to take Tommy from him.
(text under cut)
Buck never was so happy as the months he was dating Tommy. He never felt so settled in his skin and relationships, even in way longer relationships with Taylor he was missing part of himself. And it wasn't connected so much with the thing that he dated the man now. It was because for the first time Buck stopped feeling like he was trying too hard to play his part. Like somewhere his girlfriends left him the script he should have followed, but he never read it and always felt lost with them.
With Tommy he felt in his place. Like he finally belongs. Like he can finally do something right, because Tommy likes him despite his flaws, that the man had seen more and more with time passing, choosing to stay anyway. Tommy stayed even after Buck told him, or more like stuttered over every word, why he didn’t like the idea of seeing his parents again, how he wanted them to somehow not to be at the wedding, how he wanted just some more time before he would come out to them telling them about his bisexuality. 
The older man just hugged him, kissed his forehead and told him he shouldn’t feel bad about his parents' mistakes. But he also shouldn’t come out to them if he’s not ready. Tommy said that they could be “just friends” at the wedding. Buck looked at him like he was something else, something absolutely surreal. Not only Tommy wasn’t running from him because of his family drama, he gave him the way to hold the old mask in front of them longer.
Yet, Buck didn’t want it. When he saw the support and something so tender in Tommy’s clean sky eyes, he knew he would come out to them before the wedding. And he did. During the dinner on their first night in LA he looked at them and introduced them to his boyfriend, holding his big hand for support.
Since then their relationships have only gotten stronger. Buck met Tommy’s friends and family, found some stories about Tommy’s past in the 118, army and 217. Heard about some exes Tommy had. But most importantly he began to find out more and more details about what kind of person Tommy is now, falling in love with him every day. 
At their anniversary of the kiss tomorrow, Buck decided to get Tommy to the restaurant the man wanted to try for so long, but couldn’t find the time. So Buck went “all Buck” and found the way to book a table to woo his man on such an important day for them.
Buck was happy with Tommy and he wanted him to know it. He wanted to tell Tommy in words how he felt about him. But of course the moment Buck said the words “I’m happy”, universe said “Fuck you”. 
In the worst way possible.
It started as a big fire at the warehouse where some people were lost. It was just Buck’s call then. But they needed the help of more people, so Tommy’s station came to help, not just with air support, but with leaving some firefighters behind. 
Buck finds out Tommy is one of them already inside the warehouse, where he and Eddie found their victims and is ready to get them out. Tommy’s voice over the radio confirms the order to check the delta zone, and Buck can’t help but feel a strange weight on his heart. As if he should be shouting at Tommy to stay outside. He puts it down to the fact that he is not used to his boyfriend running into the fire like him, and not staying in helicopters skillfully piloting them.
Oh, how he is wrong.
He and Eddie are outside, passing their people to Hen and Chim, and fist bump each other, walking to Bobby, who listens to something said to him and pales. Buck already doesn't like it and he is ready to ask what is wrong when Bobby’s voice over the radio orders everyone to get out.
Everyone inside confirms it, and Buck is happy to hear Tommy too. He turns to the warehouse trying to see his boyfriend getting out when the worst happens.
Something explodes inside. And it explodes in the delta zone. In the zone where Tommy was. Buck for a few seconds can't even move, trying to make his eyes stop showing him a nightmare that can't be real. It can't be true. Tommy can't be in danger in a burning building. It's not true. Buck's just asleep and having a nightmare. He has to wake up. 
He. Has. To. Wake. Up.
But it’s real, he knows, when everyone around him goes loud, but he still can’t move. He hears Bobby order everyone who was inside to give him updates. One by one they confirm that they are going out. Everyone except Tommy.
“Firefighter Kinard, your status?” Bobby asks again, and Buck is pretty sure if he doesn’t not hear the answer this time, he will pass out because he is not breathing, scared to miss Tommy’s answer. He just listens, not breathing, not moving, only silently begging Tommy to answer. “Firefighter Kinard, what is your status?”
Nothing. Tommy still says nothing. 
The radio is silent. Someone starts saying something to Bobby, but Buck only listens when he hears Tommy’s name.
“Firefighter Kinard is still near the delta zone, but,” Buck’s heart misses a beat and he can see that Eddie near him doesn’t like where it goes too, “ he is not moving.” 
And that’s it. Buck fight or flight instinct kicks in, and the body and brain of first responder goes into action. He runs to the warehouse, but not even makes it half a way when strong hands behind him stop him, making him hit the person who dares to stop him from saving his boyfriend. 
“Buck stop,” the person screams at him.
It's Eddie. The traitor who doesn’t let him go and save his boyfriend is Eddie. 
“Stop it. You can’t help Tommy, when you don’t think straight,” Eddie pins him to his body, using all his power to hold Buck. “You don’t even have your mask and air tanks on you, how the hell are you going to go and save him? By killing yourself? Well, I will not let you. And Tommy wouldn’t let you too,” Eddie screams and Buck’s body goes weak. 
Eddie is right. His tank was empty so he took it off and his mask now possibly lays somewhere on the ground, where he lost it when couldn’t hold anything in his hands after he saw the explosion. 
“It’s Tommy, Eddie,” Buck turns his head to his best friend, not being strong enough to stop the tears from his eyes. “It’s Tommy. I-I should save him. I-I can’t lose him Eddie. Please I-I can’t,” he is crying and Eddie hugs him to his chest.
“I know, Buck. I know. Trust me I’m barely holding myself from running there too,” Buck hears in Eddie’s voice that it's true. Tommy and Eddie become friends quickly and they are close like all other 118 family members. Tommy means a lot to Eddie. 
“But we need to think straight,” Eddie’s voice becomes strict. It's the type of the voice Eddie uses on the worst call, when he tries hard to work with a cold head. “We need to let Bobby make the plan and let others save him.”
“B-but,” Buck tries to say it should be him who should save Tommy, but all the words are lost.
“You can’t help him now, Buck. Right now you should let other people help him,” Buck wants to cry from how right Eddie is. 
He knows deep down he is not even close to the head space where it would be safe for him to get into the burning building and save his boyfriend. He knows it's how it should be. But can’t just sit and wait for someone to save Tommy.
It should be him.
He again tries to fight Eddie, but the man overpowers him.
“Buck, I’ll sedate you if you do it again. Will be forever your number one enemy, but at least will save you.” 
Buck screams from pain hearing it.
“You-you never can be my enemy.” 
Eddie looks at him with so much pain in his eyes.
“If I don’t bring Tommy from there alive, save and sound, I’ll be.”
“Never,” Buck whispers, but Eddie hears it anyway. “You can never be my enemy. But please Eddie, please we need to find a way to get him out. And I need to be with you, please.”
Eddie nods.
“Grab the tanks, find a new mask and let’s hear what Bobby has for us.” 
They quickly do it all before coming back to Bobby. 
The man looks at Buck with so much emotion, Buck can’t look him in the eyes.
“I’m not sure I can let you inside, Buck,” Bobby’s captain's voice, yet with so much care, tells him that. “You and Tommy are in a relationship and we still don’t know what condition he can be in. I don’t want to risk anything.”
Buck begs, “Bobby, please, I…”
“You stay with Hen and Chim and let me and Eddie find him,” it’s said abruptly, without any of the care with which Bobby usually speaks, but Buck knows that the very fact that Bobby is putting him out of danger is an act of caring. He's just so angry at everything. He also is tired. So he just falls on his butt, hugging his knees, takes off his helmet and nods, already looking only at the doors from where he expects to see his boyfriend to get out.
It’s never happened, of course.
When Eddie and Bobby are almost out ready to go, he speaks with so much grief in his voice he doesn’t think he ever heard from himself, “Bring him back to me,” he looks them in the eyes. “Please bring him back to me. Alive.”
Buck knows they can’t promise anything, but Eddie still nods at him and Buck has never been so thankful to have him as best friend. 
Buck doesn’t know for how long he sits in the same position, probably no more than ten minutes, feeling how from time to time Chim and Hen glance at him for several seconds between moving to work on their next patients.
He knows they don’t just check to make sure he is not running in the building, but also because they are worried about him. Buck hates that, actually. It’s not him who is in danger in the burning building in who knows what condition. And Buck just sits there letting other people work to save his Tommy when he is first responder too. When he knows how to do the job, but he sits and waits, the only thing left for him it’s to hope. To hope that Bobby and Eddie will find Tommy soon and take him out so Buck can hug him hard and never let him out of his embrace.
He hopes to have a chance to hug and kiss Tommy again soon. He hopes to see his smile again. He hopes to have his boyfriend with him <i>alive</i>.
Familiar hands hug him and take his face in the crook of their neck and Buck only now understands that he was crying all this time. His tears run over his dirty cheeks. Feeling Athena’s powerful aura makes Buck feel a little bit better. He tries to take part of her strength she holds in all her body for himself.  He is also just simply seeking and thankful to feel all the maternal care she has for him right now.
“H-how are you…”Buck tries to gather his thoughts but they are as foggy as the air around them.
“Dispatch said they need more police for control. I was here for some time, and the moment I was free and wanted to find Bobby I saw you. Hen told me what happened. I’m so sorry Buck,” she hugs him tighter and he cries harder.
“I-I can’t lose him, Athena,”  he raises his gaze to her, seeing her face contorted in pain, surely only partially reflecting all the agonizing pain Buck is feeling right now. “He-he makes me feel alive. Really alive. For the first time in my life. He makes me happy and free. He-he… I just can’t lose him. I w-won’t survive it.”
Athena doesn’t say anything but she puts her hand on his head patting it with so much love, Buck cries more.
His chest hurts and he wants to scream how terrible the pain is, but screams are not coming. Because if he gives up to the pain, it will mean he gave up on Tommy and Buck will never dare to do it.
He will hope to the very end. He will hope till Bobby or the doctor will tell him otherwise. 
Bobby’s voice over the radio makes the pain worse and better at the same time.
“We have a firefighter down. He is pinned down and unconscious. Possible spinal and head injuries. We need another paramedic, jaws, C-collar and backboard in the hall between the delta zone and west exit.” 
He wants to run in the building again, but now it’s Athena, like Eddie before, who doesn't let him. Buck watches how Chim and Ravi run inside.
Next minutes somehow are worse and longer than the time he didn't know Tommy's condition. But then he sees his family running out of the building with his boyfriend on the backboard, still unconscious, but Buck can see how his chest is moving and for now it’s enough for him.
This time he doesn’t let anyone stop him from running to his Tommy, jumping in the ambulance with Chim and Hen. No one really stops him.
He takes as little space as he can, letting Chim and Hen work their magic, just holding Tommy’s hand, counting his pulse and trying to breathe in this rhythm.
He kisses dirty knuckles and sends all his strength and fight to his boyfriend.
“I know you're unconscious, but I don’t care. You will listen to me and you will do how I say,” Buck kisses the pulse point on Tommy’s hand. “You will fight every minute when we’ll pass you to the doctors. You will wake up after they’ll put you into your room and you’ll see me sitting near you and you’ll smile and I’ll kiss you. And then we will book the table in this restaurant I booked for us again and we will have another anniversary there,” Buck holds Tommy’s hand near his lips saying it. “You are not allowed to leave me, you hear me? I don’t allow you to leave me. You stuck with me Kinard. And I won’t let you stop fighting to come back to me,” Buck kisses ring finger. “One day I’ll put the ring here so you have to fight. For me. For yourself. For <i>us</i>. Please, Tommy, please. I can't imagine a world with you gone.”
He cries again, kissing Tommy’s hand till he has to let him go so doctors can save his heart. 
Time in the waiting rooms has been going on for an insanely long time. So long that Eddie has time to bring him a change of clothes and make him change in it and wash his face in the restroom. Bobby brings them food and coffee from the dinner near the hospital and all his family looks at him till he manages to swallow half of his portion. 
All he can do is look at the clock, counting minutes till some hours later the doctor comes to tell him that Tommy is fine. No spinal injury, just some bruise on his back, but his pinned hand needed surgery to fix it and Tommy would need a lot of PA. The man also has a lot of bruises, smoke inhalation and a gash on his head that's already been stitched up. But it doesn’t look like he has a concussion. He'll be kept overnight for observation, but he should be able to go home pretty soon.
Buck’s knees buckle under him, when the doctor says the last sentence and he lets the big cry escape him. Bobby and Eddie put him back up and move him to the room the doctor said belongs to the man.
He enters it alone, as the doctor said only one person can stay, and he tells Bobby and Eddie to go home. They hesitate.
“I’m going to be ok,” Buck says to them, but all his attention is already on the man in the bed. 
Buck hears the door closing when he is already near the bed, sitting on the uncomfortable chair, taking the hand he was holding in the ambulance in his. 
“Thank you, baby. Thank you for coming back to me,” Buck traces with his hand the wound on the head carefully and then kisses Tommy’s forehead. “Now rest, baby. I’ll be here.”
He gets as comfortable as he can in the chair, holding his thumb near Tommy’s pulse point and letting his body crash from exhaustion.
-
Buck wakes up hearing someone call him by the name. He opens his eyes, hissing from the pain in his neck, and he sees Tommy who is looking at him with a cute smile.
“You awake,” Buck kisses him, finally exhaling the last tension and pain from everything that happened yesterday.
“Yeah, I am,” Tommy looks at him like Buck puts the sun and stars on the skies. 
“What? Why do you look at me like that?”
“You stayed with me all night,” Tommy shrugs and then hisses. Buck rushes to help him to put his bed in the sitting position. 
“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? You're my boyfriend and I’m your emergency contact.”
“No one did before.”
It makes Buck sad and angry at all the other partners Tommy had. Thay had this perfect man and never could stay the night with him at the hospital? Well, it’s their loss. 
“I’m not like them,” Buck looks at their intertwined hands. “And it’s the least I could do for you,” he says, frustrated with himself. For being so weak his team had to stop him from saving his boyfriend.
“Why do you say that, baby?” Tommy looks at him confused.
“I couldn’t save you. E-Eddie had to stop me from running into the warehouse without the mask and the tanks because I lost any cool I have as a first responder. I couldn’t save you. I was just sitting here looking at how the team saved you. Waiting hours for doctors to save you. I did nothing except waiting and hoping for you to be ok,” Buck admits with tears running his cheeks and he can’t look Tommy in the eyes, not wanting to see disappointment in them.
“You did more than you can imagine, baby. You let people you love save you from doing something stupid like run into the fire without proper equipment,” Tommy raises his head using a weak grip in his chin. His blue eyes are kind and caring. “You let the people who you trust save me. And you stayed near me all this time, thinking about me. Trust me, Evan. It’s enough. I need you to be safe too,” Tommy kisses his knuckles. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if you would be hurt because of me.”
“Stop being the one to comfort me. It’s not me who is in the hospital bed,” Buck kisses him again, saying thank you with the kiss for being so caring and gentle with him. 
“You can comfort me by saying I can go back to work soon,” Tommy nods to his hand in the cast.
“Sorry, baby, but the doctor said a month in the cast and then a month of PA,” Buck kisses the pouting man. “I promise you will be ok really quick. You also have a lot of bruises all around your body and had smoke inhalation, but they took you from the oxygen during the night.”
Tommy nods, “could be way worse.”
“Yeah,” Buck swallows, still feeling the cold of the fear of the possibility to lose Tommy forever, “but let’s not challenge the universe, please.”
Tommy smirks but agrees.
“You know, there’s a thing you can actually do for me,” his boyfriend says with a playful smile and Buck nods to him to continue. He is ready to do anything for his boyfriend. “Kiss it better.” 
Buck chuckles on the way Tommy pouts his lips, but leans to him anyway leaving the most tender kiss he can, translating all his love and fear of losing it to his man in it.
He was thinking about saying “I love you” the moment Tommy will wake up, but decided against it. They deserve better than it. Something sweet and tender, not with the aftertaste of pain and fear. So the kiss is a good alternative for now.
-
Two days after the fire Tommy is discharged and Buck takes him to his house, sending his man to rest on the couch while he cleans and cooks and then goes to have dinner with Tommy at the couch, not forgetting to grab the pain pills for the man and water.
“I cooked different meals and froze them. There's food for at least a week. All the instructions about pre-heating are left on the fringe for the moments when I can't be here. But I’ll come after and before my shifts and I spend time with you here on my days off, ” Buck says, while he cleans the dishes. 
Tommy insisted on sitting with him in the kitchen because he missed him while Buck was doing all the chores.
“Or you could just stay here with me without running between my house, loft and station,” Buck turns to Tommy who looks pretty confident, yet Buck sees in his eyes he is scared about Buck’s answer. “Do you want to move in with me?”
Buck puts the last dish on the shelf, wipes his hands with a towel and comes to his boyfriend, falling on his knees to kiss him. 
When they part, they both smile so much, “Yes, yes, I want to move in with you,” Buck kisses him again and then whispers in his lips. “I love you. So much. Wanted to say it on our anniversary after a big romantic dinner, but I don’t want to spend more days without saying it to you. I love you, Tommy.”
Tommy’s huge smile blindes Buck like the sun on the warm summer day.
“I love you too, Evan. So, so much,” they kiss again and Buck can’t wait to spend all his life doing it. 
“When can you move?” Tommy asks after they end the kiss.
“I can pack my most important things the day after tomorrow as it’s my day off and take it all here. Then I’ll talk to my landlord about ending the lease and just pack all other things.”
“Good,” Tommy kisses his birthmark now. “I want you to feel here like home.”
Buck chuckles, “I will feel like home not because my stuff stays here,” he cups Tommy’s face in his hands, “I feel like home with you. No matter where we are.”
“You’re such a sup,” Tommy laughs, kissing his birthmark again. 
“Said the man who made me a playlist of songs he associates with me.” 
Tommy shuts him the same way he did when he kissed him for the first time. Buck can’t be happier his man uses this tactic to shit him any time he wants.
He just can’t imagine himself happier when he's with Tommy. 
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enditen · 2 years ago
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birds of a feather
summary: a bit of understandable anger toward your fiancé for— in your eyes— unwise decisions leads to hurt feelings and avoidance. thankfully, the two of you come back together in the most interesting of places.
word count: 4090ish.
rating: m
warnings: public sexual acts. talk of death ( rooster's, goose's and carole's ). angst. two adults being stubborn fools. talk about breasts. talk about ruining hawaiian shirts and dress whites. kind of playing around with naval deployments and what not.
pairing: bradley ( rooster ) bradshaw x female reader ( callsign vulture )
author's note: hi, first fic in this fandom that was simply supposed to be hot titty fucking with a title of a tit for a cock and then turned into 4k of angst then some titty fucking. some of you might recognize me from another fandom on here on tumblr to which if you do, hi y'all. also i feel like i missed tags and i'm sorry about that. assuming i write more for this because i've gotten over my nervousness i'll learn. and special thanks to @blurredcolour for being a little cheerleader
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You’re beginning to wonder if there’s just something about Maverick that just turns everyone around him a bit stupid. You like to think that most of the team surrounding your fiancé aren’t idiots and yet there you were being proven completely wrong as you listened to Bradley explain what exactly had happened on the mission.

“That’s not what he meant when he said don’t think!” You remembered screaming into the phone, knowing fully well that while Mav was his own special brand of stupid- and deliriously lucky he wasn’t the same level of pure unadulterated idiocy Bradley was displaying.
“It worked out!” Was somehow his raspy defense and it had taken all your self control to not hang up the phone right then and there, the sheer unmitigated aggravation seeping through your pores As it stood, what you did end up doing was letting out the world’s most put upon sigh as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re just lucky Mav didn’t have to bury another bird.” At Rooster’s sharp inhale you started to speak again. “I didn’t mean it— I’m just—”

“No. I get it, Vulture,” he spat out your callsign, a definite sign that he’s pissed and you had struck a nerve you honestly shouldn’t have right in that moment before you heard something in the background. “You don’t have to come get me, I’ll get home fine.”

The silence after he hung up feels almost as all consuming as the idea of him dying was.
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It’s always been a thing that when one of you comes back from deployment or from a mission or from visiting friends who are stationed somewhere else that you pick one another up. Some of your friends call it silly, but for you and Rooster it works. You’ve always wanted to be together all the time but at the same time— when opportunities present themselves you’ve never been the type to ignore them. Hell, even if you wanted to, the other one would just argue against ignoring the opportunity. That’s why you found yourself here, waiting for Rooster to come back from what should have been a mission he didn’t come back from. What was almost a mission he didn’t come back from. You wonder if this is how his mom felt with his father and if the reason she never wanted him to become a pilot like this is to avoid anyone else having her fate. You see Rooster walking with Hangman and are about to lean out of the car to tell him to get his ass in the car before he sees you through your windshield. The look he gives you is one of aggravation and hurt that you’ve so rarely seen on his face that it practically pins you to your seat in the car. You've seen those brown eyes look at you with so much love and you've made jokes comparing them to warm chocolate more than once but in this moment— all they do is remind you of a hardened and unbreakable tree.

He shakes his head before turning to keep talking to Hangman, laughing at some probable dumb joke the man said and you swear your stomach drops through the floor of the car. You hadn’t thought he was serious about not wanting you to come get him and here he was getting into someone else’s car to go— home? Maybe, or maybe he was going to crash on Hangman’s couch or find— no. No, for all that Rooster was angry with the slip of your tongue he would never cheat on you. He loves you in a way that makes other people sick and makes Maverick and Penny tell you that yeah, you kind of remind them of his dad and Carole.

Still, he’s never been this angry at you and that terrifies you in ways that you can’t put into words. You’ve flown dangerous missions that didn’t terrify you as much as the look on Rooster’s face did right in that moment. After what feels like hours, but is only really ten minutes you pull out of the area you were parked in and head home. You don’t realize Hangman hasn’t left and that Rooster watches you leave from his side of the truck. 

“She couldn’t have done anything that bad, man.” Jake tries to reason as he puts the truck in reverse. 

“You don’t know her like I do," he scoffs, shaking his head and slipping on his aviators. "I forgot why she’s called Vulture. Just— Just drive.”
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You suppose it's a mercy that you see Rooster the next morning, making coffee as if he didn't break your tradition with one glance through a car windshield. Suppose you should be thankful he's back home and in your kitchen and not back home in a casket, but you've never been one to allow yourself simple pleasures like that when you're hurt. When your heart's twisted into the version of itself that only releases anger and toxic fumes to push away everyone you hold dear.

That anger has your mouth moving before your brain can catch up and make you see sense. All you know is that the man you love hasn't said one word to you since that phone call and he's only making one cup of coffee and not two. Another tradition broken and you can only see red.

"Are you ignoring me?" You ask the moment he turns around, sipping his coffee without seemingly a care in the world.

Bradley isn't necessarily the more verbose out of the two of you, but he's never particularly short with you. Today is the exception, much like everything about the past two days.

"No." A pause as he sets down his coffee cup and you see a bit of coffee clinging to his upper lip and that stupid little mustache you've grown to love over the years. "Maybe."

"Maybe," you parrot, moving over to where he's standing and watching as he moves just far enough away to allow you to grab your own cup and your own specific pod to make your coffee. "You nearly die, I say something stupid and now you're acting like a moody teenager. Cute, Roo."

Roo. Not even Rooster and certainly not his name because he certainly doesn't deserve it in this moment. You watches as his eyes drift over your body, noting how you're wearing one of his favorite Hawaiian shirts with the top buttons unbuttoned, revealing skin that normally he'd have covered in kisses a thousand times over since he returned last night. Instead it's unmarred by his lips and teeth and you're as vicious as can be. Two can play that game. Two can be childish.

"I'm sorry, something stupid. No— no, you didn't say something stupid. You said something cruel. That's a big difference, babe. One is normal, the other is you reminding me that I could have left you alone just like my mom was. Like that didn't go through my head. Like Maverick didn't tell me that much while we were heading back. "

A laugh erupts from deep inside your chest as you turn to look at Rooster. "Did it really go through your head? Did you think I'm throwing away my life with Vulture because I need to save someone who ruined parts of my life? Or did your brain get scrambled from the G's?"

You watch as eyes that you love start to fill with something resembling tears as his hand clenches the coffee cup. He loves you, he knows that to be a simple fact. He loves you. His father loved him and his mother. Mav loves him and loved his father and his mother. And you love him. In this moment though, that last one feels like a joke, feels like a dagger twisting in his chest. Maybe you don't love him if this is what you want to spew at him. You're a woman who should have had a callsign of Viper but only gets Vulture because you can handle things other people couldn't. You take care of things other people wouldn't or couldn't. He supposes you taking on all of those things is what makes you the way you are.

"It's what my dad would have done," he forces the words out and tries to not cry because you know what that means to him. You know know better than anyone. "I was his wingman."

"And what about my wingman, Bradley?" Your question comes out softer than you mean it to even as you slam your coffee pod into the machine. Somehow tears start to tease the edge of your eye line. "You were just going to leave me without mine. You really are your father's son. Guess I should be happy we don't have a little you running around. That's a little too on the nose."

The slam of the coffee cup startles you more than anything you've thought was possible in that moment and yet without missing a beat you turn to face Rooster once again in time for you to see angry tears falling from his eyes. "I'm not doing this. You're— I didn't leave you. You're not having to bury me and you're not having to be by my side as I bury the closest thing I have to a father now. That is what should matter. Not what I did. What I know you would have done for some people. What you'd have done for Phoenix alone. I'm here in our kitchen wearing my engagement ring and you're just wearing my shirt and not sobbing into it because it's the closest thing that smells like me. Let it go." He takes a moment to take a shaky breath and starts to move toward you. "I made a mistake but I don't regret it. Let. It. Go."

If you were younger, if you were the same girl Rooster met all those years ago you'd have taken your ring off and slammed it on the counter right next to his coffee cup in a fit of anger. You're older now, same as Bradley and you stop yourself even as your hand inches toward your ring finger. Bradley's always been taller than you unless you're in heels and it forces you to look up at him. "You forget who you're wanting to marry, Bradshaw. I'm— I'm not letting this go. Just— you know what, sleep on the couch, do whatever. I don't care— you're not sleeping in our bed. Especially if you want to act like I meant to say what I said in the first place. You want to ignore me? Fine. Then do that."

You see Bradley's jaw tense, and watch the way it moves as you normally would enjoy before he speaks. "Wasn't planning on sleeping there for a while anyway. Enjoy your coffee, Y/N."
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Ever since you had started dating, you and Bradley had talked every single day. No matter the fight, no matter what happened between you two you would never let something like this drag on for so long. Life was short after all and you two were both vividly aware of that.

This time though, this time it drags on for two weeks and you have a half right mind to stand in front of Bradley until he talks until you realize from how even Phoenix looks at you while at the Hard Deck that it wouldn't help. It truthfully might make things worse. So you let him stew and he lets you stew. You miss him and you like to think he misses you but you're both very stubborn people who know how to hold grudges with the best of them.

It's strange, ignoring someone you love in your own house but sometimes you'd like to argue that you and Bradley are strange people. Normal most of the time but with those small little scars inside and out that make you do strange things. Strange things like make sure your dress whites are ready to go the day of what you think is a ceremony— honestly you hadn't paid attention for once to the notice. That's what you do with someone you love and someone you care about— not someone you're still so angry with that it hurts to talk to them.

You arrive separately to questioning looks from most of the Dagger Squad and Maverick but you both shrug and smile them off even as you stay apart most of the night. What you both don't realize is that the other is sneaking glances when one of you looks away. Your eyes take in the man who you think— you hope— is still going to be your future husband and bemoan the fact that he can't wear this uniform everywhere. There's something special about seeing him all dressed in white and looking every bit a dashing naval aviator.

His eyes? Oh, his eyes take in the woman he knows he's still going to marry if one of you would just break already. They take in you in white which you hate wearing because it shows off everything and stains and all those silly things you say. They take in how your jacket contains your chest but how the buttons strain just a little and how he knows that you're probably wearing a lace bra that he loves underneath it. He knows how that bra feels against his hands when he cups your breasts and squeezes them in his hands. Your chest is a work of art sometimes— all the time really and he hasn't touched in over two weeks.

Jake is the one who notices how Bradley's eyes haven't left you for a few minutes and notices how he's shifting in place— fidgeting in a way he's never seen him.

"She's been staring at you too," the blonde chuckles. "This is— This is every bad high school dance and military ball I've ever been to rolled into one. Go over to her, Rooster. Stop pining, man."

Bradley wants to defend himself but he turns to look at you again only to catch your eyes and how they slide down his body before stopping at his crotch and— he finds most logic and sense goes out the window. Like two magnets drawn to one another you both find yourselves by each other's sides, with hands grazing each other's hips.

"I—" He starts before you shake your head.

"I was being cruel. You've— We both know I get like that and I was terrified, Bradley. I saw our lives flashing before my eyes the second I found. It was gone in an instant. That doesn't excuse—" Your words are cut off with a soft kiss that you're both endlessly thankful no one sees.

"Babe. Trust me, I know I was an idiot and that same vision you had? Yeah, you weren't the only one. I swear I heard my mom and my dad yelling at me." His words are soft as he nuzzles his nose against yours, laughing softly when you scrunch up your nose because of his mustache. "I'm sorry."

You sniffle a little, partially to prevent a sneeze from his mustache hair and to cover up the fact that you're a little emotional. "I'm sorry too." You take a moment to look up meet his eyes only to see how his eyes are trained on your breasts. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, are you staring at my boobs in public? At a function?"

You watch as a light dusting of color reaches his cheeks before he bites his lips. "And if I am?"

A breath leaves your mouth slowly as you move the hand that's been on his hip toward the front of his dress pants, giggling softly at the slight hardness you feel. "I'd say you should stop unless you want me to take care of this in the bathroom."

His eyes dart around the room checking to see if anyone will notice you're both gone for a bit before he laughs. "Meet you there in five?"

You practically give yourself minor whiplash as you nod quickly. "Can I keep the bra on?"

His groan almost gives the two of you and your plans away.
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The great thing, you think, about this bra, is that it makes it so easy to have Bradley stick his cock in between your breasts without taking it off. You know by the end he'll want it off, want to squeeze your breasts as he slides his cock in between them but in the beginning he's fine with this.

"I missed my girls," he groans as you press your arms against the side of your chest, pushing your breasts together even more. "Should— Should've gotten over myself and fucked you in my shirt that morning."

"You would have gotten come on your favorite Hawaiian shirt, Bradley," you try to reason with him even as your voice takes on an airy sort of quality the quicker your fingers move in between your legs. You should have taken off your pants but you realize it's a little too late for that now.

"We're probably getting come on our dress whites, babe." It's a joke but one that's likely very true from the way you can see his cock pulse and from the way your fingers— even through the articles of clothing you're wearing sound so obscene as they squelch and slide between your folds. "Would've made it better. Fuck, swear this bra does something to your tits."

"It's a bra? A dressy one? That's the point?" You can't help but giggle as he moves faster, his cock gilding against the soft skin of your breasts. "You getting close baby?"

"Lil bit," he grunts out, his hand moving to try and grasp at one of your nipples. "You wanna free them? Let your nipples join in on the fun?"

"You just wanna smear them with precome, Bradshaw, you're not slick." It's not a no, and your hands move to start undoing your bra even as you look up and see Bradley with the dumbest smirk you've ever seen him have. "Why are you—"

"You're slick though," he pulls his cock out from between your breasts and bends down to kiss you as your bra releases your breasts. "Bad—"

"Bad dirty dad joke," you cut him off with a fond shake of your head. "At least wait until we have a little birdy before you stoop that low."

A shrug is the only answer you get as he lines his cock up with your breasts and waits for you to press them together before saying a single phrase. "Sorry. It's in my blood."

You look up at him through your eyelashes and sigh, ignoring how your heart twists a little at the faked twinkle in those brown eyes of his. Instead you bend your head down just a little to lick a small kitten lick at the head of his cock. "Doomed to those jokes for the rest of my life as Mrs. Bradshaw. What have I done?"

A shudder ripples through him at your lick and he has to force himself to not come right then and there all over your perfectly made up face. He wants to though, wants to see you debauched like you should have been the second he came home and was alive and in your arms. He should have painted your face white. Should have made it so there was a stain on his favorite shirt that he'd wear proudly because it'd tell everyone how needy you two were for each other. It'd remind everyone that he's taken by the most vicious, intelligent, and vivacious woman he's ever met. It'd remind him that you missed him that much that you couldn't bear to be apart from some part of him for too long.

He didn't though and he can't right now but tonight when you're home and laying across your shared bed maybe he can do it then and watch as your lips try and lick bits off your face. The image he paints in his mind is something else and it has him clenching the fabric of your jacket before his own hands move to play with the tops of your breasts. The action earns a low whine from you, wanting more of his large hands on you, his thumbs playing with your nipples as he kisses you. You two have to make this quick though and it shows in how Bradley's thrusts increase in speed and how he motions for you to do something— anything— with your boobs and your hands until you finally catch onto his meaning.

"You are so boob drunk, Bradley," you mutter as your hand wraps around the part of his cock not between your breasts. With every thrust up you manage a lick or two just to tease him until you see his thrusts getting messier and less controlled.

A breathless low chuckle leaves him. "Nah, just you drunk. Fuck, babe, Y/N. I'm— let him go. Gonna—"

"Cum on them. Just cum on them. I'll wipe it off."

You look up with all the confidence in the world to see him with blown out pupils and a wet lips from where he's bitten them to keep quiet. "You su—" You cut him off with an almost violent nod that has the head of his cock brushing your chin as he does. "Okay okay."

What happens next is a flurry of limbs and grunts and low whines from you and Bradley as you chase your respective highs. Bradley comes first, hips stuttering, painting your chest with his cum, pearly white and just uncontrolled enough that some lands on your lips and chin and another bit lands on your dress shirt, narrowly avoiding your jacket. Your name falls from his lips easily as you look up at him, your fingers curling just so inside of you as he reaches out to cup your cheek his brown eyes so full of love, arousal and adoration that you come with a silent cry, your body threatening to fall forward from the sheer intensity but his strong hands are there to stop you.

You both lean back— him against the wall and you on your knees- catching your breath before he moves to grab paper towels, wetting them just enough for you to clean his release off of you. He embarrassingly lets out something close to a childish whine as he watches you lick the traces of come off your lips until you raise an eyebrow at him and his hardening cock.

"When we get home." You both manage to say at the same time before letting out matching peals of laughter. After a moment where you both can't keep a straight face Bradley starts to tuck himself inside his dress pants and you start to button your shirt back up before he pulls you up with an ease that marvels you even to this day. You feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt as he straightens it out, making sure it's regulation ready. He winces at the slight stain of his come near your shoulder before remembering you still have to get your jacket on. His hands make quick work of the buttons and he notes with pride the only sliver of come one can see is easily explained away as water.

You can't help but bite your lip at Bradley when you see him looking down at you, inspecting his handiwork. Almost as if he realizes you're staring he meets your eyes and smiles this stupid half smile that makes his mustache look far cuter than it has any right to be and has his eyes dancing with mirth.

"Come on Lieutenant Bradshaw, they're gonna notice if we stay here," he tries to school his face into something resembling a serious look before he chuckles softly.

"Aye aye, Lieutenant Bradshaw." A pause. "You can't call me by your last name yet, you know."

He shrugs, unlocking the door as he wraps his arm around your waist. "I almost died. I can do it if I want. Besides, saw your thighs tense up."

You tamp down on the urge to slap his arm playfully as your own arm moves to snake around his waist. "You're lucky I love you."

"Yeah,' he stops right before you reach the door to reenter the hall and presses you just lightly against the wall. "I love you too."
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