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chemistryread · 1 year

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she is both hellfire and holy water

- part V

and when we kissed one another for the first time I could swear I heard our souls whisper ever so quietly, 'Welcome home.'

jake seresin

callsign: scorcher

part IV

disclaimers/tags: cw for panic attacks. female!reader!aviator. loverboy jake is weak for girls. slowburn and angst.

a/n: a seriously long boy but it's worth it, a lot happens! i promise happy chapters are coming they're just so hard to write, personally. for now, i hope you guys dig the angst and the tension. and thank you so much for 300 followers :)

tagging: @thedroneranger @shanimallina87 @peakascum @cherrycola27 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @untoldshortsofthefandoms @thecraziestcrayon @lovingperfectionsblog @cornishkat @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @murdermornings

It's like your friendship with Hangman had never started. Everything is back to how it used to be.

Sleepy conversations with Early Riser Bob in the mornings, quiet nights playing board games with Yale and Harvard, competitive training sessions with everyone.

Your callsign rarely leaves his lips, and vice versa.

Except…It's not the same.

You miss him. Making him laugh, exchanging glances when Rooster says something you know will make him huff in annoyance, quietly asking him to drop it. And he'd listen. And you'd feel important.

Apparently, once you've entered the Jake Seresin gravitational center, you can't fully leave it. Attempt to and you'll have to part with entire segments of your being, struggling to feel complete again until you return to it. To him.

It's your fault, you could've been no one to him for the rest of his life, and stayed in the sidelines without ever feeling that pull. But, selfishly, your fingers danced over the flame and now you're burned forever.

Patched together, lacking.

To be fair, you thought you'd be able to handle it better. The way these things usually go is you mentally prepare for it to end. And if they take too long, you leave first.

But Seresin was such a whirlwind. He dove head first, told you to hold onto him and just when you were about to give in, the burn in your arms too much to bear, he left you swinging your arms alone again. Desperately trying to stay above water.

You had no time to prepare.

It all crashed and burned in ten days. That's slow for someone named Scorcher, maybe you should celebrate.

Rooster certainly would join.

He laments that you had to go through that crashcourse friendship with the bastard (his words) but says he's sleeping better at night.

Back full-time to late night talks with Phoenix, you doubt that. But alright.

With so much happening lately, you're relieved to have a boring day ahead.

No air time. Just a lot of studying. Most of the pilots hated days like that, coming up with whatever games they could to make the clock tick faster.

That's when you're most thankful for Bob, changing seats with Phoenix so you and him can quietly read up and take notes without any interruptions.

You're leaning on the palm of your hand when he pokes you with the eraser tip of the pencil.

"Hm?"

"What happened between you and Hangman?"

You look at him in disbelief.

"Et tu, Bob?" He laughs, a bit of a blush covering his cheeks. "Nothing really happened."

"C'mon, you were attached at the hip for a whole week and all of a sudden you're ignoring each other like your memories were wiped. Nothing happened?"

With a sweet smile, you turn to him.

"Nothing happened."

"Then why is he staring like that?"

For the first time today, you finally dare to look in his direction. Bob was telling the truth. His body is turned sideways on the chair, rigid and uncomfortable, looking past Coyote and fixated on you.

Despite the queasy feeling it gives you, you let out a chuckle and whisper back to the intrigued man by your side, eyes stuck on Hangman.

"I don't know, but he kind of looks like he saw a vision of the future, right?"

He chose a terrible time to take a sip of his water, spitting it out and letting the metal flask slip from his fingers, loudly hitting the table.

Both of you break into giggles.

"Something funny, Floyd?"

As simple as that, everyone in the room is looking at the three of you.

You roll your eyes, patting Bob on the back, letting him know you'll handle it.

"Nothing that would amuse you, Seresin. If you're trying to drain everyone's energy just so you can have a little bit of attention, you're not gonna get it from me. Worry about the notes in front of you."

Normally, the rest of your group would be laughing along, but with recent events you can understand the confused looks they have on.

Your eyes are glued to the plasticized pages, disinterested in his existence. As it was.

The implication isn't lost on him either. He's exhausting. He tires people, consumes an entire room's spirit for a drop of attention. And you won't let him do it to you.

He fucked up, didn't he?

But he did get you to speak. For the second time. A second chance, maybe.

"Why don't you try me, Scorch?"

It's entirely possible that your eye just twitched, hearing him use your nickname again. It feels so right to play dirty with you.

"I was simply telling Bob you look a little haunted, staring at us so determinedly. Having trouble focusing? Something on your mind?"

At the tip of your tongue. He knows what you're asking. Are you embarrassed? Is it killing you inside?

Yes, it is.

But he doesn't go down so easy. He'll get you back, loving or hating him, but not indifferent.

"Mhm, I don't know what you mean. But there's a little birdy who could maybe shine a light on it, he seems to be on top of everyone's business. Isn't that right, Rooster?"

Shit, you had it under control. Did he really have to bring this up?

Wide torso angled to a laid-back Bradley, whose long legs bounce under the table in anticipation of a fight. In the time you've known him, he's never been one to feed into conflict except when Seresin is involved. You can relate.

"Don't hate the player, Hangman, hate the game."

Despite the constant questioning, you hadn't disclosed what happened to Rooster. So he doesn't know that, in fact, he did play a role. That's why he sounds confident, and painfully unaware.

"I have to hand it to ya, Bradshaw, conniving is not something I would have ever called you. But hypocrite makes sense."

"Can both of you sh-"

You try to interrupt before something too revealing is said, but Bradley cuts you off, the honey in his eyes turning darker.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Hands closed in a fist but voice too controlled. Honest. "Whatever you fumbled has nothing to do with me. Everyone knows the only thing in your way is yourself, that's why you'll always be second fiddle."

It's not an unfair assessment. Jake constantly sabotages himself, be it because of greed or his loud mouth that doesn't land him on the good graces of people he might need.

However, second fiddle is harsh, and takes away too much of his merit. Immediately, your stomach turns and you get an itch in your throat to speak up for him, even if he doesn't need the help.

The room waits for Lieutenant Seresin's reaction, that sharp toothpick spinning in between even sharper teeth. You had never noticed how menacing he can look, big and intimidating. Unfortunately, the very core of your body really enjoys looking at him right now.

"One near-death experience and you think you're in a position to say who's the best? Sure, but it's my ego that will get someone killed."

Slow down, Jake. Coyote reprimands him, Phoenix scoffs and Bob clicks his pen incessantly by your side. You turn to him and take it off his hands, a little too brash.

The man on the table behind you shoots up at this, understandably more offended at the accusation that he would ever let something so deplorable (in Bradley Bradshaw's eyes) as ego endanger his colleague's lives, pointing a finger in Hangman's direction.

"Everyone in this room would pick me for wingman, and you know that. I'm reliable. You're greedy, too damn self-obssessed to put anyone else first, and that, Hangman, is how you get someone hurt. I'm nothing like you. If you think Scorch-"

"Roo, stop."

All eyes turn to you, but you're looking at Bradley, feeling completely betrayed.

His cheeks are bright red.

"Seriously?" Your eyes beg him. Just stop. "You would fly with him watching your back?"

You scoff. This has nothing to do with flying.

Still, the dismissive treatment of Jake is too much for your persuaded heart to take. The words come out too fast.

"You have, and I remember he was pretty crucial in both you and your pilot coming back alive."

His mouth hangs open, trying to come up with something.

Maverick shuts everything down. "Look at the time, you've played enough. You're all dismissed."

"This ridiculous faith you have in him…you'll end up like your backseater."

It's quiet, mumbled under his breath as he looks away, squinting and shaking his head.

Your spine straightens, on guard, but you still shiver.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

You can sense the others' confusion. No one knows, but him and Maverick. No one else needs to know. He's aware of this.

"I'm not gonna watch that." Bradley is the only one to stand up and walk out, with you screaming for him to get back, furious.

Mav has to come over and snap you out of it, both hands on your shoulders.

"You heard him!"

"He's just upset."

"There's being upset and there's being a fucking cunt, Mitchell."

You could hear a pin drop on the pristine floors.

"Lieutenant, watch it."

Shame finally hits you under Pete's disappointed, warning glare.

"I apologize, sir, that was out of line."

"It's fine, just go hit the showers. All of you. I'll talk to him later."

Head down, you start to walk away when Bob pulls on your elbow.

"I'm sorry, Scorcher, I shouldn't have brought it up. I feel bad."

There's a considerable depression in between his brows and you smile softly at him, appreciative of his genuine tone, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I know you didn't mean to start anything."

"Oh, so this is all church mouse's fault? What a turn, ladies and gentlemen. Again, how am I the bad guy?"

His tone is still provocative. Your smile falters, and you sigh, before following Rooster's steps. His smug grin drops too, and he can hear Javy's squeaky chuckle behind him.

Natasha juts her shoulder out and hits him as she squeezes through him and Floyd, yelling after you.

"I'll go find Rooster!"

"That's great." You yell back, clearly ironic.

He watches you go through the doors, taking too long to notice the other three are still there and observing him with funny faces. So he coughs, rolls his shoulders back and makes his own exit, a little self conscious.

Whatever just happened with you and Rooster could be used to his advantage.

At this point, he doesn't remember what exactly caused you to stop talking.

It had something to do with Bradshaw flapping his wings all over shit that wasn't his to take care of. So shouldn't he be mad at him, instead of you? Still, why hadn't you come to him? Were you really so comfortable with the idea of things going back to how they used to be?

This is what he can't get over in your…friendship. It really feels like you could let go of him at any time. He doesn't like being treated with indifference, not when he spends all his time looking for you in every room, hoping you'll show up when he's alone so you have no choice but to acknowledge his existence, wishing that whoever is currently talking his ears off would just shut up and stop wasting perfectly good time he could be spending listening to you.

He knew, no matter what, Javy would sit by his side. Phoenix would have at least one dig reserved for him, Bob would try to hide his smirk. Rooster would not so subtly fight with him for Maverick's praise while flying. The captain, in turn, would push him to his limit. (Nobody knows, or would understand, that he feels it when one of the Dagger Squad members is sick or has a day off). If he sat alone at a restaurant, someone would come and talk to him.

Jake had people's attention. Good or bad.

And yet, no one can fill the void you create when you exit a room without even glancing back to him. It crushes his lungs, makes him anxious. He misses you.

But you can survive without him, and he kind of hates you for it.

In the locker room, he's considering throwing in the towel and pulling you aside, when your phone buzzes in your hand. You pick it up with a grimace.

He remembers the day he eavesdropped on another phone call of yours. It had worked well for him, ultimately, to be there for you. With the look you made when you answered, leaving in a hurry, maybe he should…

"Jake, hello?" Javy's fingers snap him back to reality. "Man, it's not a joke, huh?"

"What?"

He can't help but flex his muscles while he changes into a clean shirt, sniffling and looking away, putting himself back together. The sides of his head are pounding.

"You're, like, falling for Scorcher. Fast and burning, like a comet. In a week? That's crazy, even for you."

Jake huffs, pulling on his dog tags in annoyance.

"Coyote, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Yeah, for all that bravado, you're kind of soft when it comes to girls." He frowns and Javy laughs at him. "You know it's true, and it's fine. You're a hopeless romantic, my friend. Just don't let the others figure it out or you'll never hear the end of it."

He wants to shove his head inside the locker.

Of course it's true, he's known it all his life. High school girlfriends, academy flings, friends of his friends' dates, even women he met at random…Jake was never the heartbreaker.

The way he explains it to himself is that he's used to people being interested in him, in that sense. Liking, dating, maybe loving. He deals with that part just fine. But they always fizzle out. People get sick of him, or maybe they never saw him as long-term, while he was still completely dedicated to them. He finds himself constantly being left behind.

So when a new person comes in the picture, that spark of hope that he has finally met the one who's not going to move on from him burns again. Who reminds him of the love his mom and dad have always nurtured for each other. He thinks the only reason why it's still alight is because he's so tired. All he wants is someone who will stay because they want to, who won't let things turn into 'I can still make this work'.

If his brain is trying to convince him that someone is you, he might need to schedule a medical appointment to check everything up there. He doesn't think he has ever met a girl so willing to not keep him around.

No, it wouldn't be you.

"And what does that have to do with her?"

Coyote snickers at the funny way he says 'her', carried with such solemnity. It's irritating how one tone change can expose so much unresolved tension.

"Oh, so when you keep me up at night, pouring your heart out because you just don't understand her, you're actually talking in your sleep? That's impressive. You can go for hours, and you sound mostly coherent-"

Jake shuts the locker with a thud.

"I don't think she cares."

Brown eyes widen exaggeratedly.

"Were you not in there, just now? She went against Rooster for you, hard. And you didn't even have to ask, it was completely for free. She has to care, a little."

"Maybe. I don't know."

It's possible that you were defending him - that in itself makes the knot in his stomach tighten - and you belive he was good enough to fly with. And he'd be honored, if he was asked.

Pragmatic, though, mentioning what he did for Rooster and Maverick once. A sensible answer. Relevant, not personal.

"Well, don't you want to know? Have you tried telling her what you tell me?"

"That's literally the worst idea you've ever had."

He can't. It's so stupidly vulnerable and needy, it'd scare you right out of the Navy, probably.

"C'mon-"

"No, man, she's not- Usually, I go out with a girl, we get to know each other and I tell them how I feel. This, we haven't even…I can't just drop that on her lap. It's insane." He swallows his own bitterness, imagining how pretty you'd look speechless at his confession. "She would eat me alive."

Javy chuckles, embracing him around his shoulders, carrying him out into the hallway.

"Am I a bad friend for wanting to see that? Look, you can either mope or do something about it. But I understand if you're too scared."

Adolescent teasing spilling from his words, targetting the proudest corners of Jake's brain.

"Coyote, I'm a six-foot-tall fighter pilot with two confirmed air kills. I'm not scared of anything." His eyes are sharp, but his chest still deflates a bit. He shrugs. "Why do I have to wave the flag?"

He can tell he's truly testing his best friend's patience.

"Because she's not the one jealous of Rooster, is she?"

Jake stops, struggling to speak in his frustration, words scraping up his throat. Javy is looking back at him with a challenging look. Are you seriously denying it?

"I'm not jealous. But you saw the way they act around each other, right? It's in plain sight, and she does nothing about it."

Coyote groans, and picks up his pace, forcing him to jog to catch up.

"She did do something about it, dumb fuck. You're refusing to see it. That's what I don't understand, usually you'd be jumping at this obvious opportunity like a shark, but you overthink everything she does, it's weird." Trailing off at the end, he slows down to make his next point. "And you know what? She's currently mad at the one guy causing you problems, not to be an asshole but it's the perfect moment. Just go apologize for your little tantrum."

As they walk past another office, you come out of nowhere and nearly trip over him.

"Oh, sorry."

You're about to slip away again when he swallows so dry it's audible in the bustling corridors, feeling Coyote's fists dig into his back. So he holds the back of your arm, gently. Despite of your hurry to escape, you stay, and he feels the spark crackling.

"I need to talk to you."

You look at him in a adorably confused way.

"Is it important?"

A low and resentful laugh comes up from his chest, debating whether this humiliation is really worth it. "Are you kidding?"

"What? It's- I really need to speak to Maverick right now, it's kind of an emergency."

Your eyes avoid both men and Jake's grip on you narrows, protective.

"Why, is everything okay?"

For the briefest moment, he sees your bottom lip wobble. But you breathe in, smiling again.

"All good. Look, I promise I'll look for you later, alright?"

He nods, and you're off.

How many migraines can one woman cause? The space in between his eyebrows feels sore.

"Did you hear that? She asked if it was important."

"Dude, you're in trouble."

"I know."

Coyote laughs wholeheartedly, and promises to pay for his lunch out of pity.

As he leaves the library, Jake's looking to fit in that talk with you before the end of the day, searching around the base. He finds you leaving Cyclone's office with Maverick.

"If you need anything-"

"I'll yell." You wink at the older man, pushing your grin to grow just for him. He thinks it's nice, this bond the two of you have. "Now, do you know where Hangman could be? I promised I was gonna look for him when I had time."

The captain laughs, crossing his arms. A rare moment of a non-chalant Maverick coming out. His short frame is usually vibrating with restless energy.

"Something you wanna tell me?"

It's stronger than any force in his body, and he smiles to himself. Probably looking goofy in his dressed down uniform, a jacket loosely tied around his hips, leaning discreetly on a wall where you can't see him. A teenage boy spying on his crush in the school hallways.

"Stop. I can't deal with that on top of everything." You reprimand your friend. With what, him? Is he such a bother? "Actually, I don't know what he wants. I was in a rush to find you, didn't even bother to ask."

"I'm sure it broke his heart."

"Would you quit it? Keep talking like that and people are gonna think we're hiding something."

"But you are." Your head tilts at the older man's words and Jake feels a cold shiver run down his spine. He almost jumps in, scared Maverick is about to sell him out and tell you all about his notekeeping, but you pinch the man's arm first. "Hey, okay! Can I give you some advice?"

"Nope."

You're walking away, Mitchell keeps talking.

"What's the worst that can happen?"

You stop, but your back is still turned to him.

"Not everyone can recover from heartbreak as well as you do, Mav."

That intrigues him.

Pete's hands are on his hips, looking ready to give you a cinematic speech.

"I don't recover, I run. And I see you doing the exact same. A spoiler, it won't work."

Another pilot bumps right into him, and he has no choice but to finally make himself visible, loudly apologizing to the young woman.

You turn, looking pale as a sheet, speechless. Indeed, pretty. Probably wondering how much of the conversation did he hear.

Ignoring Maverick's irritated look - likely not appreciative of being spied on - he walks tall and confident in your direction.

"Who's threatening to break your heart, Lieutenant? I can deal with them for you. All you gotta do is give me the word."

He wants to know what's going on with you. But his calculated grin doesn't give that away.

"Lieutenant."

Maverick smiles at him, too knowing. His mind is constantly filled by thoughts of how how easy it would be to take him on a fight. But for now, he smiles back.

"I'm sorry, sir, do you mind if I steal her?"

Your posture corrects itself when you breathe in, risking a look at Mav and trying to sneakily roll your eyes.

"I'm right here."

Beaming in your direction, intensifying his sickely sweetnes to a ten-fold just so you might roll your eyes at him too.

"Got a minute, Scorcher?"

Instead, you beam back at him, just as forced.

"Of course, Hangman."

He leads you to the open space outside the gym, where an attempt at keeping a small garden is failing miserably.

You're cracking open a bottle of sparkling water, noticing the disgust in his face.

"Such a baby." You whisper. "Of all the things to be disgusted to put in your mouth, you chose this beautiful creation of man? Ungrateful."

He takes a seat on one of the benches and looks up at you, watching the long sip you take, thinking about the last word you uttered.

A grin spreads on his face while you look completely satisfied by the cold drink.

Grateful that you're not being short with him, that you look easy and comfortable. It's all he wants.

"Good?"

You let out an 'ah', making him laugh again.

"Missing the lime." You put the cap back on but don't bother to take a seat. You sound a little more rushed now. "So, what do you need?"

His eyes hit the back of his head.

"C'mon, Scorch. Don't play dumb." You only look at him, completely unphased. "Fine, if that's how it's going to be…I'm apologizing."

"Wow, such a big little guy, I'm proud of you."

"Jesus, fine, don't accept it-"

"Seresin, I don't need you to say sorry because you feel bad about this morning. That one is not on you, you have no conscience clean up to do."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

His eyes squint and it hurts, hand wiping over his features to relax them, give him some relief. Bugged out eyes resemble the way Rooster looked at you earlier, pressuring and expecting.

"Then, what? Please sum it up, I need this day to be over."

Your chest is bobbing up and down, gradually faster, speaking in a breathy short whisper.

"Are you okay?" He makes a move to stand, opening his arms for you, but you only swat your hand in the air and brush him off. He sits down again, sighing. "I'm sorry about the other night, at The Hard Deck. I got mad at the wrong person. And it was childish."

Your hands are raised in surrender, still too casual.

"Look, I don't think you were wrong for getting mad. I- I understand that what Rooster did was bad, it would get a rise out of anybody." Softer now, your eyes don't shy away from his. It's equally satisfying and nerve wrecking. "And I'm sorry I freaked out on you out of nowhere. I just-"

You take a long, shaky breath. Humming through gritted teeth, like you don't want to admit something.

"What?"

"I don't like feeling like a fool."

His face scrunches up. When did that happen?

"Did I make you feel like that?"

"No. Potentially." You take in his puzzled expression and shake your head, finally taking a seat next to him with a big exhale. "I'm bad at communicating. Surprise, huh? Not really. Well, when you said those weird little words, figure out, I assumed the worst. It is hard to believe you would start this all of a sudden without an agenda behind it. People like you, but you're not exactly drowning in friends, Jake. And then Rooster, whose opinion I consider a lot- His words got to me…What can I say? I wanted to make sure. I think I was a bit childish as well, and I didn't believe in you like I usually do, and I'm sorry too, for that."

It's choppy, the way you speak. Uncomfortable. Scratching the tip of your nose until the skin looks irritated. Getting quieter at the end, hesitant about your confession that you tend to believe in him, it wasn't just once.

He tests your limit, curious.

"'Make sure'?"

"That he wasn't right, that you weren't fucking with me."

Shame is overriding your features, embarrassed to have even considered as much.

He never thought being careful would come back to bite him in the ass this bad. Your evaluation is fair. He isn't full of friends. But when you said you assumed the worst, you really didn't. The worst would be that he had earned having no friends by being a bad person. It seems you have scrapped that idea entirely, not entertaining it for a second, and he's thankful.

Selfishly, he lets you sit on that shameful feeling a little longer.

"How would I even fuck with you?"

"I don't know, like in a She's All That bet type of way?" You cringe and he laughs. "Which would be fucking cruel, so if I am some sort of challenge, I'll kill you."

"I love that movie."

"Me too, underrated."

"Again, sisters, so…"

"Sure."

"And, sweetheart, you're too good for a stupid bet. I wouldn't waste your time."

Instantly, he feels silly under your skeptical gaze. Shuddering with a need to take his grievances out on you by kissing your doubts dead, unapologetically.

"Are you saying I'm not romcom material?"

Chin up, teasing him again. It's dangerous how easily you can dictate his mood. Put him down or lift him up. So much time spent building his walls just for you to come around and never even have a glimpse of them.

He feigns annoyance, throwing his head back and huffing.

"Do you only hear what you want to? I'm saying you're not a one-dimensional romcom lady. You're better. I don't need a bet or removal of glasses to see you're easily the girl of many guys' dreams."

It's way too much, and you definitely won't buy that, but you laugh. Shy and bashful, not exactly mocking him. Encouraging his transparent flirting. He takes a nervous inhale, and it turns into a laugh too before he can prevent it. So much goofier than his usual attempts at hitting on a girl. But that's expected when you're around, he doesn't have much control.

"Wow, you must be feeling really bad about things, Seresin. No need to wag your tail at me so hard, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Isn't he doing exactly that to himself, over and over again, for you?

He might thrive in that hurt, though, because he stands up straighter, shoulders brushing yours.

"I told you it's not about that." Swift glance to you, half-lidded. Honey-sweet. "I'm a lover, not a fighter, beautiful."

"Could've fooled me."

Idiot. Out of all the people in this world, you're the one his heart has been pining for the hardest he's ever felt, and you're also the blindest to it.

It's exhausting, but he's persistent. Every time he thinks of giving up you smile, and he smiles back.

Tides of affection rising inside, salt licking up his throat, threatening to overflow and wash you in words of praise. Constraining his own airways to avoid spilling.

In the midst of his fight with himself, you had started to speak again.

"-earlier, I don't know what that was."

Rooster. Right, he forgot.

His eyes flick down to your knees, neurotically being rubbed and squeezed by your hands. Something feels wrong.

"Yeah, I think you were stickin' up for me? Confusion is a normal reaction for folks who stumble onto defending my honor, usually by accident."

Your snort is muffled by the bottle still on your lips, and he watches as you lick them slowly. Eyes skimming over the plants, shy again. Big breath in, he thinks he hears it hitch.

"Shouldn't be. I was defending your competence, but still. You're a good pilot and Rooster shouldn't have said that. Any of it."

He feels good about your small compliment until he notices the way your brows furrow and eyes fix on one spot on the floor. Angry.

"Scorch, are you sure you're okay? You're losing a little color-"

"Yeah, yeah, fine."

The speed with which you try to stand up doesn't agree with your body, and the sound of your open palm hitting the wall is loud. He's behind you as quick as he can.

"Hey, what's going on?" Your body turns around, using the wall for support, eyes screwed shut. "Talk to me or I'll drag you to medical."

Chewing the inside of your cheek, shaking your head.

"I think I can hold it down. Just give me a minute."

On the brink of a panic attack. Shit.

"That's not how it works, Scorcher. C'mon, we're walking." Trembling fingers curl inside his hand, and the broken state of you paralyzes him. Fuck. He pleads. "Please. I don't know what to do."

Usually, he sits in a corner and counts random numbers plus seven, humming his thought process, until it goes away. But that's what works for him. It could be completely useless to you.

And he doesn't want you to know he goes through the same thing sometimes. Not now, it wouldn't instill any confidence. He wants you to feel safe with him.

"I've got this."

"Scorch, I don't think-"

"For fuck's sake, Seresin, please! I need one second to breathe today, please! Why do all of you think I want to hear what you think I should do? Give me one fucking second!"

It's erratic, and the tears are rapidly soaking your cheeks. An excruciating sob pushes through your teeth, and the sound of you gasping for air back is even more painful to hear.

Both hands on your shoulders, keeping you upright as your head lulls forward, hiding your crying face.

"It's okay." He tries his best but his voice still wavers, dizzy with how fast things were spiralling today. "You've got time, Scorcher, I'm not going anywhere. You're alright."

"My dad called."

"You don't have to explain, just br-"

"He wants to see me. Thinks we need to talk about my decision to not be part of the family. My decision."

You scoff and it's rough on your throat, grating. He's worried your lungs seriously will give out.

"Don't go."

More than ever before, the glare you send his way is blatantly calling him an idiot. Then, it softens.

"Already said I will." A bitter laugh escapes your lips, chapped from the anxious swiping of your tongue over them. "Cyclone heard about the fiasco this morning, told me I should be more respectful, watch my language. He's disappointed. And Rooster. Fucking asshole. I don't even think he realized what he said."

Sweat is seeping through your shirt, your nostrils are flaring. He doesn't miss how you clutch at your chest when your friend's callsign is spilled from your lips like a secret, almost crooning. Another harsh gasp.

"Scorcher, shut the fuck up, I swear. You need to breathe."

"Jake, my backseater died. And it was my fault." The grip on your shoulder grows stronger, unsure if to support you or him. Every muscle in your face is fighting against it but the water pooling in your eyes is too much. He's never seen you so scared. One more short, painful inhale, and you're rambling again. "I always pushed too far. I was a brute and it cost me so much. My engines constantly caught on fire, my instructors told me I needed to slow down. I was too fucking stubborn to listen and she died."

Somehow, despite the lack of air, your voice grew the more you spoke. You're flushed, paths of tears more noticeable down your neck as the veins pop. An unmistakeable loathing look on your face.

"I'm sorry."

"I think her family hates me more than mine."

It rolls out in a deep exhale. Weight off your shoulders, because they relax and you can breathe a little better.

The sudden sobering up of your features gives him whiplash, and he feels his own chest cave in.

"Stop it."

"God, and what if Bradley really believes it was on me? If that's the pilot he thinks I am- I can't-"

The sobs keep coming, your hand covering your mouth now, desperately trying to silence yourself.

He has no idea what to say. So one hand snakes around your back and brings you forward, the other undoing the bun that was half-ruined from how recklessly you scraped it against the wall during your rant, threading through the locks and scratching your scalp calmly.

"Just focus on breathing." Both of your palms fall flat against his chest while yours continues to move up and down too fast. "Like I'm doing, okay?"

Reputation aside, Jake had never been through something like that. Not like you and Maverick.

Oh. Everything makes sense. What binds you is tragedy.

Maybe he was lucky.

He thinks of your callsign. It adds up. So fast you started fires on your own aircraft. Also a reminder of your worst moment.

Slowly, you synch up with him, quiet and exhausted.

Rooster had practically implied that ego and carelessness, traits Jake possesses, is what killed your backseater. But you were the one flying when she died. As you said, it's too likely that he didn't realize the point he made until it was too late.

And yet, your resentment is overpowered by the high esteem you keep him to. Pure admiration. At the same time he thinks it's treacherous to put that much praise onto someone, he understands. Lieutenant Bradshaw has always had that special factor to him. A better man than all of them, that's just how he comes across and no one really knows why but it's convincing. (Infuriating.)

He wants to tell you 'fuck Rooster, I know it wasn't your fault' but he doubts it would have enough impact to demote Bradshaw and placate your anxiety.

Don't bother comparing, Seresin.

When he thinks your breathing has estabilized, his hands drop to your hips, and you let him guide you back inside the gym. Thankfully empty. He stacks three steps on top of each other and sets your legs up on them. Both of you laying on mats, concentraded on calming down.

Your eyes don't move away from the ceiling as you address him.

"I'm sorry. About everything."

His hands finally stop moving on top of his stomach, and he looks at you quizzically.

What do you have to be sorry for? At the bar, that was mostly him. This morning, he started it and all you did at the end was defend him.

Maybe you regret ignoring him. But he brought that unto himself as well.

"I appreciate it, but you have nothing to apologize for."

With a shrug, you take a sip of what can only be disgustingly warm and bland sparkling water. He doesn't see the appeal, but it seems to truly delight you.

"Can always apologize for something."

So it's a thing he likes. The crying made your voice hoarse, and you're sniffling. He traces your profile, lingering on the lines around your mouth as you pout, the stickiness to your eyelashes when you blink too slow. Skittish. It shouldn't make him so needy.

He decides to tease, easing you back into a comfortable mood, letting you know everything is okay.

"I guess. Like the silent treatment?"

You turn to him, passion coloring your face again and he's relieved. He mirrors your exasperation, raising his eyebrows.

"Hey, you were the one who left the conversation! If anyone had to speak first, it was you! And…I was right here the entire time, so."

Were you waiting for him to apologize, then?

"Could you be more stubborn?"

"Yes!" Both of you laugh, and he thinks your eyes soften before moving away from him. Your voice is definitely quieter, now. "Jake, there's one more thing."

He doesn't hesitate.

"Anything."

"I might be pissed at him right now, but what you said about Rooster and I was wrong. You got mad about him making accusations, but then so did you."

He looks up at the light, closing his eyes due to the brightness.

He won't disagree. You had gotten in a fight with Bradshaw because he thought you couldn't make your own judgement of people, and then he basically did the same when speaking of your relationship to the pilot.

Still, don't you see it? Even more so after this morning.

"I know, but everyone jokes about it. Why is it a bad thing when I say it?"

There's the jealousy getting the best of him again. Tired of the man getting away with things he is pushed against the wall for.

"Because I thought you were smarter than that." I expected more from you. He can feel a lump in his throat. "Honestly, Bagman, you got to know me pretty well these past few days. I'd dare say more than most of the squad. That was such low-hanging fruit. I thought you understood things better than thinking Bradley and I could ever have a thing."

He does. He gets you. But do you get that Rooster is a threat to whatever it is you and him have going on, right now? Especially if he's bold enough to come up to you and tell you to stay away from him.

"Does he understand?"

You gather the condensation sweating off of the bottle and flick it at him.

"Yes, he does, actually."

Wiping the wetness from his face, he sits up.

"What do you mean?"

"Hm, I really don't want to prove you right."

A huge smile breaks out on his face at the sentence, until he remembers what prompted it. His stomach sinks.

"Oh my- Is he in love with you?"

"You said like! And no, he isn't." So you did notice the different wording. He should remember that. "I just meant we have had that conversation before. And we both agreed it isn't like that, at all. No chance in the world."

"You might need to talk about it again, with what I saw today I don't think he really absorbed your conversation."

He doesn't bother to hide the tartness coating his tongue.

"And he's territorial? You two need to stop this pissing contest, it's pathetic." He starts to protest, but you cut him off, harsh. "Look, Rooster is extremely protective, even if you don't want him to be. It's just his nature. He's also shit at separating things, and I think he gets confused sometimes. He cares too much, let's that lead him and before you know it he's got his foot in his mouth, in a mess of his own making. Saying things he doesn't mean, doing things he doesn't want to do. Dating people he doesn't even like just to avoid asking the right one, like an idiot."

Getting carried away, like you forgot you weren't talking to yourself, you stop to take a breath lest you walk into another breakdown.

One of the many things he appreciates is that you have a gift for clarifying things. You are terrible at communicating, but if he commits to it he can decipher the point behind your commentary.

So he understands Rooster a little better now. Not that he should ever risk saying it to his face, but the man is pretty emotional. It makes sense that he would spill his feelings before even understanding them, and getting it completely wrong in the process.

The only part he didn't quite catch was the dating. It sounds like Bradshaw is having love problems that have nothing to do with you, which is great solace.

"To be honest, you lost me there at the end."

"Nevermind. The point is he's hot-headed, and his heart is very loud. It's hard not to get wrapped up in- Well, in him. Bradley's constantly changing, you can't get stuck on a thing he said once." Even more reasonable is the assessment that he's a volatile variable. He had managed to keep that down in his flying, remaining ever the cautious pilot, and he seems to be working on that. But in his personal life, there's no Navy regime that can help him organize his thoughts and emotions. "You and I might measure what we say, but he doesn't."

For the second time today, Jake and you are put together, made to look similar, or at least compatible. In your words. That sense of companionship he had built with you starts to come back effortlessly.

He takes a moment to look at you, really look. Inspecting. It's long enough that it makes you uncomfortable, smiling and shivering at once.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

An awkward chuckle leaves your lips.

"Why do I tell you anything, Hangman? I don't know." He beams genuinely at you, your uncharacteristic loss. "Just hope I won't regret it."

He rolls his eyes again. "You won't."

"Good."

A moment goes by where all he can hear is the sizzling from the bottle, the birds chirping at the sunset, and conversation in the hallways. He almost wishes this is all he ever had to do.

"We should go. I don't know about your lazy ass but I have a ton of stuff to get to."

"Yeah, I need to go find Rooster anyway." You let him pull you up, pushing him off just a second later. "Ladies first."

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

Once again, nobody mentions the flip-flopping between you and Hangman.

Except Phoenix.

Phoenix is very interested, trying to get information out of you any chance she has.

"I'm just saying, you've always had a thing for him."

"Excuse me? How dare you?"

She laughs at your dramatics.

"I could've used it against you, when you drunkenly told me he made you feel something nobody has in years. But I didn't. I was a good girl and now I deserve to be rewarded."

You hand her the jar, licking jam off your fingers. "Do you realize how spoiled you sound right now? It's kinda hot."

"Tell me!"

A groan leaves your lips, probably giving too much away.

"Tasha, there's nothing to tell you. I swear."

Nothing except that the animosity was the reason you hadn't slept well for as long as you hadn't been talking. It had made you wish, just for a moment, that it could be like before. When he had no insight into your ways, and how you feel about him. Sure, he doesn't know the whole of it, but he must've picked up on how easy you give in to him, right? The smiles, the look in your eyes. How you forgave him and welcomed him back without much of a fight.

For all the time you kept it tightly restrained, your affection is untying itself in front of him quite spectalularly.

Anxiety over how he thinks you feel about him hurts your lungs, so you force those thoughts away, thinking that at least you're speaking again.

What a joke, that such a thought is comforting.

"That's not fair! Out of both of us, I'm spilling my feelings? I'm supposed to be the tough one."

"Please, the competition here is who is more emotionally repressed, not tougher. Let's not kid ourselves."

She points the bread knife at you, threateningly, before putting it down with a frown. "Am I winning or losing?"

"Great question."

You chuckle at her adorable rage face.

Hangman walks into the kitchen, with a sugary tug of his lips to you. You nod back, feeling your smile reach your eyes, albeit shy. Rooster enters the room right behind him.

For days, you've been knocking on his door at night asking to talk, and he never answers.

Honestly, he's not someone you're willing to lose, independent of the fact that he's the one who screwed up. So you abandon the pasta you were (barely) helping Trace cook and strut right to him, pushing Mickey and Reuben out of the way, nails locking around his bicep and dragging him out.

"Ow! Scorcher, take it easy."

"I'm strong but not that strong, so I know you're walking with me out of your own volition, quit whining."

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, he turns to you with pursed lips, mumbling. Whatever.

"So?"

"So? Rooster, what you said was fucked up. I'm giving you the chance to make up for it. If you don't feel like it, that's fine, but I'm telling you it would be a shame."

"Why's that?"

"Because I need you."

His footing shifts, and the shoulder leaning on the wall goes up, taken aback. Surely he knows this, you just never said it.

Spending the summer and every possible holiday with him, Pete and Penny, you became some sort of small family. You'd never actually put that much weight on their backs, but it's the closest you've got to one. Losing Bradley would leave a pretty big hole in your life, and now he knows that.

You take a deep breath in.

"Me too, you fucking dipshit."

It's a relief to be able to laugh with him again.

The muscles on your back seem to relax for a moment. Of course he does, he shows it all the time. It's still nice to hear it.

You step closer to him, gritting your teeth.

"Why did you shut me out? Why did you say that? What the fuck are you doing, man?"

You punch him in the shoulder and he doesn't even bother to unfold his arms to stop you, taking it.

He sighs, voice a little weak.

"I'm not sure, okay? A lot's going on and I keep fucking up- I think I needed to feel like I could be there for one person- Whatever." Your eyes squint, wondering what you're missing. "I am sorry, though. Really, Scorch, what I said was unacceptable and I'm so sorry."

Your arms are crossed now too, shielding from his possible answer to your next question.

"Do you actually think it was my fault?"

"What? No! No, I didn't say that-" Realization flashes through wild hazel irises and he licks his lips, clapping both hands in front of you almost in a prayer. "I know that you're not that sort of pilot. Scorch, you have to believe me, that's not what I meant at all and I'm so, so sorry."

"I believe you." Nodding and smiling softly to reassure him, although it becomes a frown. "But neither is Hangman. You also know that."

He nods, swiping his nose with the tip of his fingers, thinking.

"Okay. I don't understand, alright? Why Hangman? I thought you said it would never be someone in the Navy. And out of everyone here, him? Really?"

A snort escapes your lips. You should be more embarrassed, maybe scared, that Rooster figured it out but it's nice to examine it with someone else who isn't Mav or Penny. Who isn't outright supportive of it.

"When did it hit you?"

He stands up straighter, a dumb look on his face.

"Wait, I'm right? I was hoping I was wrong." Your boots connect with his shin, he sighs. "After that morning and putting together all the times you stuck it out for him, it was pretty obvious. Again, why him, Scorch?"

There's a shared feeling of defeat between you. His because he couldn't stop Jake from getting to you, and yours from falling for it.

"I don't know, Roo, if I could have picked it out, it probably wouldn't have been this way either. Too painful. But I can't, so now I'm stuck with him. And he's not that bad, at all."

"You know, I waited so long to see that dumb smile on your face and tease you about it, I can't believe it's because of him. He really needs to take the fun away from everything, doesn't he?" It's lighthearted, but then he's grimacing again. "He worries me."

"I know, he worries me too. I'm not, like, planning on doing anything about it, you know? It'll probably go away. But he's not a bad person, there's no reason to treat him like shit. Plus, we get along, what's the harm?"

"So much, Scorcher, you haven't heard his stories on boy's night-"

"And I don't want to." You put your hand up, cutting him off with a head shake. "Nothing is gonna happen between us, alright? We'll be going home in a few weeks and this will all be over. In the meantime, I need to you to lay back and stop getting so worked up about it. I know you care. I know, ok? You don't need to keep proving it."

Bradley visibly slacks at that, and you wonder how much that need to look after the ones he loves really eats at him. You smile, thinking Trace can use someone to lean on, make her relax too.

"Fine, I'll try. But, Scorch, if he ever-"

"You're right around the corner, eager to kick his ass, I know." He flexes his biceps and you roll your eyes. You know something that will cut this gun show short. "Oh, and I'm sorry I called you a cunt to Maverick."

Comically fast, his arms deflate, and his mustache wiggles, trying to process what you just said.

"You called me a what?"

Hopefully subtly, you jump to the next subject.

"So, you and Tasha, how's that-"

"Nope. Not doing that."

He leans off the wall and starts walking back into the rec room. You catch up to him.

"C'mon, let me help! God knows you fucking need it."

Still denying your efforts to pry when both of you return, all eyes in the room turn to you. Probably wondering if you're yelling at each other in the good or bad way.

Barely past the threshold, Rooster picks you up from behind and throws you onto the couch. Remote control, Uno cards and phones fly to the floor. He knows you hate being lifted off the ground like that, makes you feel like a rag doll.

"Oh, expect revenge, asshole."

Throwing one of the pillows in his direction, he ducks and you end up knocking a glass of tomato sauce on the counter. Phoenix has the meanest scowl on, so you run to her, hugging and apologizing. Rooster comes around to smear the spilled content on both of you.

You can hear Payback say Yeah, they're okay.

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

Another win at dogfight he is about to put under his belt, and he hopes everyone knows he won't shut up about it until the next match. The secret is to have Bob on his team and Maverick on the other. Trace's WSO has a great arm, turns out, and the captain is short and old. Makes everything much easier.

Rooster likes to claim you and Trace for his side. He doesn't mind, it gives him a perfect excuse to graciously tackle you. His favorite move is to follow you with a hand on the small of your back.

He's a little mean when he pushes you away, always looking for the ball. He can multitask. But he comes back to tease, and sometimes apologize. Large hands on your shoulders, shaking you from behind, thumbs rubbing the base of your neck and down your spine. Obnoxiously smug. Don't worry, Scorch, you'll win someday. You look up at him, then let your eyes drag low on his body, forcing him to subsconsciously flex. All you do in response is cackle, pushing him backwards and running off to steal a point. Distraction is a great tactic.

The last time he caught sight of you was before the fourth or fifth game, however.

Everyone is eating the food Penny brought out when you return.

Your name is halfway out of his mouth when Rooster speaks it, over him. They turn their heads at each other, unsure of what to do or say. The man has been a lot less vocal about his disapproval of your friendship, but still grumpy about it.

Mav gets to you first, stopping you just a few steps away from the table with a hopeful expression, both arms reaching out for your shoulders.

"So?"

"I had a great lunch."

At this point, Jake has stood up from the table, pretending to get another water bottle from the cooler while he keeps a close eye on the two of you.

"That's fantastic! Wow, that's really-"

A bitter laugh comes from your lips.

"Mav, he didn't show up."

"Oh."

The captain looks really confused.

"But the food was good and the waiters were very nice. Not a complete waste of my time."

As always, there's humour to your words. Even from afar he can tell it's a little forced. Mitchell's frown is an important giveaway too.

"Scorch, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be. You know I was half expecting it. People don't change, Pete, not people like him. Not for me, anyway."

Concerned by the crack in your voice, Jake finds himself walking to you without realizing.

"There you are, missing case. Where have you been?"

You struggle to keep eye contact, and his worry grows.

Green irises meet his own, silently asking him to take care of you. It's a weirdly barefaced request, but one he will tend to immediately.

He watches Maverick strut away after patting you on the back.

When Jake looks at you again, your eyes are glimmering and wet. This time he knows what to do. Sort of. In a spontaneous decision he will probably regret, he takes your hand without thinking of who's watching and leads you inside the empty bar.

"This is stupid, I'm fine. Mav's being over the top."

He's rummaging through the place, hoping Penny wouldn't mind since you two are such good friends. Maybe you can defend him one more time.

"Do you want anything? This fridge's full of sparkling water, and I think there's some lime I can cut up here-"

"Jake." You laugh. "I'm fine."

He still picks up one lime to cut in half and squeeze, picking the coldest bottle at touch.

"What happened?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Tell me. I have nowhere to be."

His small joke gets you to losen up a little, picking at your nails when you choose a stool to sit on.

"I went to meet my father."

He comes close to chastising you, gripping the knife tighter and spinning it with a shut jaw when he remember it's not his place. Surely, if a call from him had left you in a panicked state just days before, going to see him wouldn't treat you much better.

Finishing the drink, he hands you the glass with a (modestly) smooth slide that makes you roll your eyes, amused.

"Thought you weren't keen on seeing the old man."

You shiver, arms trapped between your legs, crushing your chest and making yourself smaller.

"No, I never am. But I can't really say no because he's gonna ask why and if I say I don't want to see him it would only result in a long-winded, emotionally manipulative, guilt-trippy speech about me being his only daughter and how I break his heart and whatnot."

He stands across from you, listening.

As if you had only now remembered he was there, a shy laugh bubbles out and you look away, around the room.

"That makes it sound worse than it is. I'm gonna stop dumping all this shit on you, I promise."

"No, no. I want to hear it. Tell me."

Awkwardness lingers briefly when you take a sip of the water, then rolling your shoulders back. Your eyes are a little cloudy when they look back up, piercing into his, and he's not sure what to make of them.

"Thank you, for the other day."

"Don't worry about it."

Incredible how you pull softer words from him, the customary punch clearly missing from his intonation. No, more like the ends of a wave delicately bouncing off of rocks, painting them in creamy foam.

A moment so quiet and mellow, warm, he forgets not to stare and grin, quickly readjusting his RayBans on top of his head and raising one eyebrow. Tell me.

"I lost it. I always do when he calls. I haven't physically been in the same place as him in a while, I didn't expect to any time soon either. We don't need to. He also said his family would be with him. And, I don't know, I was just so uncomfortable with the whole idea. Then again, saying yes was really my only option. So I went to Maverick to ask him what I should do."

Another instance where you prove how much you lean on the old timer.

"He told you not to worry about it, I'm guessin'."

You smile.

It's not the time, but he feels a little self-conscious. Unsure of how to stand, where to put his hands. Chilly in the room, too aware that he has small shorts on and nothing else.

His eyes drag over your form. You look good. Linen dress shirt half-buttoned over your swimsuit. Effortlessly elegant.

"Yeah. Anyway, I told Mav I wasn't even sure he would actually come. He's done that before. Promise he's coming to see me, or that he's going to call, and then doesn't. But he sent me a text with the address, and the time. He made a reservation. So I went. And I waited. He never showed. At least he picked a good restaurant for me to eat by myself at."

Asshole. You don't owe him anything, you didn't even want to go, you went for his sake, and he has the guts to…Jake bites his tongue.

"I'm sorry. Did he tell you why he couldn't come?"

"No, uh, haven't heard fr-"

Your phone rings. A full name on screen, no picture, visual confirmation of your stranged relationship.

Jake straightens up, taps the counter with his fingertips when he sees you take the phone to your ear, ready to leave you to it.

But then your hand sets on top of his, curling against his palm gently. Asking him to stay, but not keeping him there if he's not comfortable.

"Hey, dad."

Your voice is raspy and strained. He settles back against the counter.

"I did. It's okay, I understand."

Playing with the straps of his Apple Watch, furrowed brow, eyes trained on the movement of your fingers.

Talking to your father clearly puts you in a bad place. Small, anxious. The fire that gave you your callsign almost extinguised. He wants to stand behind you and physically pull you up, tell you it's okay. You're not whatever he made you.

For now, he lets you unlatch and latch his watch over and over again, while his thumb runs up your forearm cautiously.

"Dad, that's not true. It's not what we agreed on. I'm not saying th-" Muscles visible when you clench your jaw, whatever fight you were about to put up dies in your throat. Sighing, chin almost stuck to your chest. "No need to call me a liar. You can look through our texts- I'm not calling you a liar either. No, I'm not stupid."

Your hand leaves him to attach to your neck, scratching and itching. He takes it back into his grip.

"Sorry, is there a point to this call? Yes, my fault, I'll take it. Yeah, bye."

Letting the phone slide back on the counter, you pull your hand, cracking your knuckles. Quickly wiping two fast tears dropping.

"So? Why didn't he show up?"

He asks, tentatively. You laugh, glancing at him briefly. The sight of you crumbling, putting yourself down so your father can walk over you, forces his fists to ball up instinctively.

He remembers you saying you wanted peace. Not fighting.

"Forgot to ask. I don't think he was even planning on following through."

"Maybe he was."

"He said I make him physically ill." The drink muffles your bitterness, and he notices it doesn't seem to please you as much as the other day. "I just wish it didn't affect me so much. I got so anxious from the prospect of having to sit down with him and his family, talk about myself, hear their judgements of my life choices…Wringing me up for nothing."

Jake thinks back to the past two days, remembering a few moments where Maverick had to call you out for being distracted. He didn't think much of it.

"Got good at hiding it, huh? I couldn't tell." You snort and he sighs. "You deserve better."

"Please." Your eyes snap up at him with something close to disgust. "What does that even mean?"

"That you deserve a-"

"Deserve? Why do I deserve anything? What have I done?" Your shoulders are pushed back, collarbone popping out, not bothering to even breathe before speaking. This is something you've spent time thinking about, and you clearly don't agree with him, vocalizing just how much with foolproof certainty and fiery eyes, a bitter laugh coasting your tone. Your fight's back. "No, look, I was just born into a shit family that didn't like me. Some people are lucky, others are not. You deal with it, and life goes on. No reason to spill any tears."

You say, cringing at the way your voice cracks.

He misses his parents, should call them tomorrow.

Circling the bar, he finally takes a seat on the stool next to you, hands coming up to your face to push your hair away. He wants to reprimand your harshness, but knows he has no right in doing so, not when he's just as hard on himself. You'd probably ignore him, anyway.

"I just meant it's not your fault."

You roll your eyes at him, barely holding back a snicker, but lean into his touch either way.

"Whatever. I like the smell of your sunscreen. Fruity." With a funny little pout and a sniffle, you make a request. "Can we please get shit-faced tonight?"

It's Penny's birthday.

The Hard Deck is being tended to by other staffers while Maverick's protegés occupy her home.

The house is decorated with balloons and little Navy ribbons, probably with the help of Amelia and Pete. It's charming. They look more like a family every day.

Penny's boyfriend catches him taking in the space and offers him an IPA. He takes it thankfully.

"Cute, right? They're actually all fake, from a halloween shop the kid and I found at the mall."

He laughs, taking a sip.

"That's nice. Can't wait to have something like this."

It slips out.

When Maverick is around, Jake finds himself being a little more true to himself, reluctantly sincere. Maybe he needs to be liked, more than envied.

At first, he wanted Captain Mitchell to feel threatened by him. Forced to see his time is long gone, and he should make space for Hangman. But that feeling has been abandoned in favor of a more genuine desire for a good friend and mentor.

It's weird, and it makes him shudder involuntarily, blushing at the smug smile on Pete's face.

"I bet. If it's Scorcher, the two of you together can have enough pins and ribbons to decorate a whole house without needing to buy any extra."

He nearly crushes the beer can.

"You're really not scared to get dropped on the ground, old man? If your ribs aren't sore enough from the game this morning I can ammend that."

Pete laughs, shaking his head.

"When I liked a woman I would go for it, let it explode into tiny pieces, and then get cocky and proud about it. After I had her, even for just a moment. You're doing it backwards, Lieutenant. It's hard to watch."

A hard exhale out of his nose and he's stepping up to his captain. He thinks about what he's going to say.

"How?" Is all that comes out. How can I have her? She's impossible.

Mav simply laughs again, open hand pointing to the garden, where you're playing beer pong with Fanboy and Fritz. She's right there.

Speaking of, you have forgone beer entirely, sticking to all things distillery. Jake is doing his best to keep up with you, and he's clearly handling it better.

A couple of hours go by where he sneaks in a glass of water in between your other drinks. You thank him every time, aware of what he's doing. Keeping you hydrated without taking your fun away. You had a tough week, this is earned.

But he stays mostly away from you. Giving you space, unless you ask for him.

Maybe it's the warmth of the alcohol, but he thinks your eyes look for him more. Even as you sit on the swing in between Bradley and Mickey, with your heads leaning back, laughing at whatever, tipsy and relaxed. You find him, even upside down. Glint in your eyes, toothy smile, dimples exposed by the moonlight. He can never get the image of a wolf out of his mind when you look at him like this.

He has to readjust on the stool, feeling restricted in his tight pants. Thankfully (is it?), Rooster draws back your attention, and he watches you make all sort of appalled faces and wild gestures as the man tells you something, making that ridiculous mustache dance when he giggles at you.

It's not innovative at all. When you're drinking, the both of you go into different subjetcs (usually, Rooster's bad romantic choices) and it always ends in you making fun of him. Before, he would hold back his amusement, not willing to let you know he was listening. But he can feel the pulling of his lips as he continues to look at the way your curls sway when you shake your head and cover your eyes, laughing at your friends with your entire body.

Javy drops an ice cube down his shirt and he's grateful for the excuse to drag his eyes away from you.

At some point later, he's chatting with Payback when you stop by his side. Leaning on the mini bar, fingertips soothing your own forehead.

"Jake." Whispering covertly, stopping your massage to tug on the sleeve of his shirt, like you don't want to offend your loud friends. "I need silence. Desperately."

He laughs, leading you inside the house, ignoring a few stares. He also ignores the overwhelming pride he feels at being your preferred rescue.

You end up in the guest bedroom, laying stomach up on the bed and enjoying the calming sound of the ceiling fan.

He sits on the floor, back touching the frame of the bed, looking at you over his shoulder.

"How're we feeling?"

"I'm okay." You drag it out, nails tracing circles on the bedsheet. "You?"

"Sober as a cow at the slaughterhouse, honey."

Your nose twists up at his words.

"No you're not. Every time I had a drink, you had one, and I'm not sober. Not drunk, but at least woozy."

"Woozy?" He mocks you, taking in the heat in your cheeks and the slow movement of your chest. You squint at him, and he shrugs. "I can handle my liquor, beautiful."

Humming, you turn on your stomach and lean your chin on the back of your hand, face inches away from his.

"I'll be the judge of that. Let me take a look."

His own eyes narrow at that, but he doesn't move, taking the challenge.

You're assessing him intensely, pursed lips, orbs searching for any signs of drunken haziness on his face.

He's testing himself too, but on something else completely.

How long can he watch your mouth without you noticing, or retreating? Can he stare at the way your curls bounce on your head without moving to touch them? One of the straps of your top tentatively slips from your shoulder, inviting his fingers to feel the skin. Can he fight that feeling?

Finally, your gazes meet. So close. That spark of hope burns stronger in his chest every second you don't pull away. Instead, your eyes get really small and, despite the dark nature, they've never seemed brighter. They're smiling.

"Yeah, okay, I think you're good."

With a pat to his chest, you return to your position on the bed.

A huge exhale slips past his slips, shaking his head. What the fuck is he going to do about you?

"Okay, are you ready to go back now?"

He can't stay in here with you. The windows are open, and the humid air is making him sweat.

"Do you think anybody is going to slip and hook up?"

His arms feel wobbly and he gives up on pushing himself to a stand. "What?"

"Weird question, I know. But-" You rub your nose and point at him, looking a little devious. God, he should've chosen less fitting trousers. "It's the drunkest everyone's been since we finished the uranium mission months ago. It should happen, actually. Everyone's young, attractive…We should go tell them it's okay. If it happens, it happens."

You're on your knees now, on top of the bed, hands clapped together as if you made the greatest proposal he will ever hear. He stands up slowly, struggling to keep his eyes away from your bare legs. Skirt so short it really wouldn't take much longer than a two-second-flicker to find the end.

"I'm way too sober to go suggest an orgy to my aviator squad."

Your head falls back, groaning, and you push on his shoulder.

"That's not what I said! I meant two people who have been putting this off for way too long and should just get it over with. I even have someone in mind."

His hand closes around your wrist, your own still flat against the left side of his chest, afraid you can feel his fast heartbeat.

"You do?"

"Yes, let's go find him."

Oh. Rooster?

With your hand enveloping his, you pull him out of the room. He's a little dizzy from the way your fingers are laced together and the idea you might be taking him with you to proposition Bradshaw.

It's impossible not to look at the sway of your hips. Noticing how far your skirt was pushed up from your quick movements, he sighs and reaches for the hem to pull it down when you suddenly stop, his groin teasingly connecting with your behind.

He huffs and you turn to Jake with a helpless look, covering his mouth with your free hand. You meet his furrowed brows with widened eyes, subtly nodding back.

Down the hallway, the most unexpected sight hits him. Rooster. And Phoenix. The taller keeping her trapped against the wall and speaking close.

Searching for an escape, you shove him inside the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

One hand still on the knob and the other over his mouth, you can't silence your own laugh.

"Oh, shit."

He pulls your hand away, finally, whispering.

"What the hell?"

Your gaze is a bit glossy but mostly soft.

"Maybe I should've told you." His jaw hangs open, struggling to form a sentence. And your lips spread beautifully, biting on them to muffle any noise. "This has been going on for a while. It's very, very complicated. As it could only be with those two."

"That explains a lot."

"Doesn't it?"

"Wait, is that what you meant? The two people who just needed to get it over with?"

Your back is glued to the wooden white door, breathing a little uneven from the shock you had just experienced. His arm comes up, large hand planted next to your head and covering the light switch.

He's a moron, isn't he?

"Yeah. What did you think I meant?"

For a second, us. And then, Bradley, even though he really shouldn't since you assured him there wasn't anything between you.

Why had you assured him of that, exactly? Is it normal, for a friend to promise another they aren't in love with someone else? Is it normal for a friendship to nearly end because you argued over someone else possibly being in love with you?

"Nothing. I- Nothing. Didn't think anything." The pad of his thumb runs across your cheekbone, up to your ear, barely making contact. You're so clear to him, even with the lights off. He clears his throat, but doesn't move or look away from you. "So, Trace and Bradshaw? Finally?"

You bite your lip again, the most shy he's seen you all night.

"Yeah, uhm, before everyone returned to Fightertown, they ran into each other at a country nightclub or something. Sort of happened. That's how they put it. Ever since, they've been tiptoeing around that line."

"Mhm, thought Trace could do better."

"Me too." You laugh, lip still in the grasp of your teeth. Letting it go with a soft hum and he can't look away from the redden spot. "No, I'm kidding. I think it could work, if he stops being such a slut."

A powerful laugh begins to rumble through him but you cut it off, hand back over his lips. He still laughs, trusting your palm to cover the noise, head leaning even closer to you.

When it finally dies, he pushes your hand away again, boldly setting it on top of his shoulder.

"Sorry. Hey, not to side with the guy, but there's nothing wrong with that."

He teases, tsking his tongue, practically purring. As lowly as he can.

"Absolutely, but I don't want him to fuck up Phoenix's self esteem, leading her on just to eventually go back to the usual bubbly Malibu Barbie every weekend."

You're absentmindedly playing with the chains around his neck as you speak, the jingle of the dog tags echoing in the room, and he can hear his breathing fail when your knuckles brush against the warm skin. Your eyes follow your own movement. You know what you're doing, right?

"Mhm, is that what you think of him?"

You shrug. "Navy guys are all the same."

"Is that what you think of me?"

At last, your eyes snap up to him, pupils slightly expanded. Index crooking inside the collar of his carefully half-buttoned dress shirt.

"Why shouldn't I?"

No reason. He never gave you one to believe he was much different. Maybe he wasn't. He liked the bubbly blonde girls, with perfectly manicured nails and impeccable make up. Sultry and inviting, friendly. There's absolutely nothing wrong with them.

But this, whatever this thick air between your bodies right now is, it's a lot more earnest. Butterflies in his stomach happen if an attractive person smiles back at him, which is often. Feeling like he has no stomach, no body he can control, that's exclusive to you. A pepertual electric buzz, a magnetic field keeping the atoms that form him together that glitches when you're near. A sharp pain shooting up his neck, pounding against his temple.

You can probably kill him, this close.

So when he leans and lets his nose graze yours, he knows the risk against his own life he's taking.

Your inhale is violent, nearly disrupting the moment, and he protects it by removing all the space between you. Letting his hand slide to your hair, angling your head up when he tugs on the locks, planting ghostly kisses behind your earlobe.

Then your jaw. Your chin. The side of your mouth. And you're allowing him. He feels brave enough to finally take your lips.

It's citrus-y, like the drinks you had been mixing all night. Refreshing and hurtful in the same kiss. Like something he needed all his life, so much that when he finally gets it, it has the ability to ruin him if he's not cautious.

He feels you part them, both hands sliding from his chest to the back of his neck. Careful, gentle. Trusting. He shudders against you, pushing your frame even closer to the door, gripping your waist to make sure you stay right there (as if he wasn't completely trapping you).

Your tongue sucks him, and he knows he moaned into your mouth.

With revenge on his mind, he lets one of his hands slide down your leg, curling around your thigh and squeezing all the way up to the curve of your ass. Hands looting as much of your skin as he can.

When he thinks he's going to get what he wants, a vocal admittance from you, someone tries the doorknob.

Both of you jump, still attached to each other, taking a step away from the door.

At the stranger's persistence, you can't help but do something about it, speaking over the grating sound of the lock not budging.

"Yeah?"

No, no, no. He whispers, arm tightening around your back.

"Oh, Scorcher?" Rooster's voice intrudes, washing in from under the door. You let your head drop against his chest, nose digging into his sternum. Adorable, and he feels his cock twitch. One hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, stressed. "What are you doing in there?"

"What do you think, dunce?" Your fingertips knead the knots in his shoulders. Probably a method to ward off your anxiety, but he enjoys it nonetheless. "Just had too much to drink."

"Hm. Why are the lights off?"

Both of you huff. Why does this idiot have to be so nosy?

"My head hurts."

Proud of your answer, Jake loses himself in the moment and gives two sturdy smacks to your ass. You look up at him, a warning. He mouths an apology.

"So, you wouldn't happen to know where Hangman is? It's just, you walked in with him and now you're in there. Where is he?"

Jake strains his neck as he looks up, running out of patience. Both of his hands are now hot on your waist, soothing the part of the skin your top doesn't reach. He's asking God to send Bradshaw away.

At least the other man's voice is doing wonders to keep his hard-on from growing too fast.

"How should I know, Rooster? I said I needed the bathroom, he walked away." A beat of silence, an idea obviously crossing your mind as you speak up again. "Have you seen Tasha?"

He smiles down at your silhouette in the dark. Of course. Just as they are in this problematic situation, so are the other two across the door. Phoenix is likely right behind Rooster, gripping his hand and hoping their cover is not blown, holding her breath the same as Jake.

"No. I'll go find her for you. Ow-" A thud is heard from the other side, probably Trace hitting Bradley, because that is a stupid thing to say if they plan to be absent. "I- I tripped over the rug. Okay, see you Scorch, bye."

Jake hears muttering slowly fade away, and you finally breathe, closing your eyes.

There's a small frown on your lips.

"Hm, I feel kinda bad. I really wanted them to…"

Trailing off. Jake chuckles out loud, struggling to breathe.

"To fuck? You feel bad because you didn't give up the bathroom for your best friends to fuck in?"

A pause. He can see you're blushing. Then, a snort.

When the laughing starts, you can't stop for a whole minute, holding your stomach and wiping away tears from your eyes.

He laughs along with you, less entertained by what just happened, more carried away by your intoxicating presence. All the while, his hands keep you close, at some point bringing you fully to his chest. Rubbing your back, holding your neck, kissing the crown of your head.

As you finally calm down, he's waiting for you to say something. Knuckles brushing your thighs as he plays with the hem of your skirt, inexplicably obssessed with tugging on the material. Something of yours.

Waiting. If Javy could see him right now, he would probably call him a pussy. Do something about it.

"We should go back. If Rooster noticed we were gone, others must have too."

The thermal shock from your body dettaching from his is powerful.

He's gasping for air while you're unlocking the door and checking the hallway before walking out, completely forgetting him. Leaving him behind.

What the fuck is he going to do about you?

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

Maverick's staying over, obviously.

Everyone else shared Ubers there, except for Fritz. But you swore to never get on the back of a motorcycle with him.

Your eyes scan the place for Phoenix and Rooster, even though you know they're probably occupied with each other. Before you can slide the glass door open, Jake calls your name.

"Hm? What is it?"

"Scorch." Immediately, a knot forms in your stomach. He sounds…tired? "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"Should we? I mean, textbook definition of mistake."

The words come out before you can reorganize them. What you meant to say was kiss me again, please, because it's an obvious mistake and the only thing that can save me from myself at this point.

Too late.

"Yeah, no, I was gonna say the same thing." Oh. Of course. He chuckles, looking away from you. "What happened to if it happens, it happens?"

"I didn't mean…us."

What a coward you are.

You hadn't said it with him in mind, because you didn't want the excuse of alcohol to tarnish the context. If it were to ever happen. Seems like you couldn't avoid it regardless.

"Right."

Jake's eyes are shaped like sharp slits. Naturally intimidating, and gorgeous. He's giving you a once over, mouth in a thin line, clenching his jaw. There's no warmth in the green orbs, not really.

And then he nods his goodbye, sliding the door open and leaving you alone.

As if his presence was the only reason your knees held you up, you're face-planting the wall right next to the door. The thud alerts someone, Penny, who sprints over once she sees you hitting your forehead and groaning.

"Jesus, kid, are you having a crisis?"

"He kissed me!"

"Hangman kissed you?"

Your body spins back around and you almost knock her tall figure straight to the ground, shushing her aggressively.

"Yes."

"That's terrific, Pete and I were right! No?"

You grab her by the shoulders. This is a crisis.

"Penny, that is the worst thing that could've ever happened."

"Whoah, I don't think it's the worst-"

"We kissed. And it was as amazing as it was short. I'm never gonna forget it, let alone get over it. What the fuck do I do now?"

She smiles, smoothing your hair. The gentle touch reminds you of Jake's fingers locking and tugging on the strands.

"Go on a date?"

"Penny! This is serious!"

"Alright, I know." The woman always had cold, cold hands, squeezing you on the shoulder. "Do you want Mav to give you a ride back to base? I think some of the squad is planning to continue this party somewhere else, maybe even The Hard Deck, but we're staying in."

"No, it's okay, Rooster is supposed to drive. I'm just gonna wait for him to show up again."

"What do you mean? He's right there. Talking to Seresin, actually."

Your head snaps to your right, watching the sandy blonde smirk at Bradley. Something screams that you should interrupt that conversation.

Squeezing Penny's hand back, you kiss her cheek with a final 'happy birthday' and walk outside, straight to your designated driver.

"Hey, Roo. Can we go?"

You ignore Jake's gaze on you, the other pilot smiling peacefully at you. His warmth always a comfort, so glad to have him.

"Yeah, of course." In a quick change of the atmosphere, Rooster clasps his hand around your arm and pulls you to his side. Lifting his beer in Hangman's direction. "The guys here were just coming up with a bet. Whoever manages to pick a pretty girl up from The Hard Deck this late wins. And here's the best part, he accepted it."

A bet? You laugh at the irony.

Your heart sinks when you remember how he said you were too good for such a thing. Apparently he isn't. Now that you think of it, challenges are entertaining. Guys tend to think so, anyway.

The grip tightens around you. Drunk, and slightly mean.

The roll of your eyes is delayed, and uncharacteristically damp.

"Sounds fun. Where's Natasha?"

Bradley's hand falls back to his side, shrugging and bringing the bottle to his lips.

"Think she took an Uber back already."

That doesn't sound good. You're gonna have to pick up the pieces of that as well.

"Brilliant. C'mon, I'll drive." You pick the keys from his pocket. Letting your eyes flicker to Jake, he's watching intently, frosty look still present and ungiving. You smile softly at him. It takes everything in you to sound playful. "Good luck."

You walk away without checking whether or not Rooster's following, confirming it only after you wave goodbye to a few of the other aviators and they wave back twice.

Honestly, it's hard to tell who you're more pissed off at.

Bradley, for clearly screwing up with Phoenix, although you don't know how yet. (Maybe you shouldn't ask, for your own sake). Yourself, for letting that kiss happen. Hangman for kissing you. Bradley again for bringing up the bet. Yourself for being this affected by the idea of Jake finding a beautiful woman to spend the rest of his night with. (Because of course he will. With a face like his, he will probably walk into that bar and all the pretty girls and boys will leave their dates to line up for him.)

Mad at Jake for being so good-looking. Sweet. Charming. Unreal. For surpassing your expectations, for ever giving you attention and making you feel like this. All while not being yours.

Rooster falls asleep on the passenger seat, and you cry. Turning on the radio so it doesn't wake him up. No, you weep.

You have all these feelings stored away, saving them all your life. Not because you believe in soulmates, or anything like that. You wanted to give those to other people before, gradually, or even partially. But it never felt good or safe enough.

This thing with Seresin, it does not feel safe. But it feels good, so good. And yet, you just don't know what do with them. How do you give yourself to him? When you haven't trusted anyone quite as much as you want to trust him. When he's so incredibly special. How do you do it without destroying yourself along the way? Is it possible?

You're scared.

The tips of your fingers brush against your lips, remembering what his were like. In an instant, you're biting into them hard enough to rip the skin, despairingly trying to forget.

You speed the rest of the short way, waking Rooster up when you park and throw the keys at him, leaving him to his own devices as you walk inside.

Phoenix is already asleep in your room, so you silently cry the remainder of your tears inside the bathroom. When you're done, you lay quietly in her bed, letting her envelop you in a warm embrace, sniffling against her neck.

"Okay?"

"Are you?"

She doesn't answer, instead hugging you closer.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #tgm x reader #tgm fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction

253 notes · View notes

secretwhumplair · 2 years

Text

By night

1,008 words | Royal arms (sequel to Mistakes were made)

Content | Conditioning, dehumanization, implied neglect

Notes | Rejoice! New Royal arms!

Or not, because it's not really satisfying for anyone involved.

Taglist | @whumpy-writings @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @newbornwhumperfly @whump-cravings @whumpityy @nicolepascaline @whots-a-tag-precious @thegreatwhodini @shameless-whumper @neverthelass @wolfeyedwitch @onlybadendings @melancholy-in-the-morning @quietshae @whumpcreations @whumpydaydreams @whumpsy-daisy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @kixngiggles

Night had fallen, and Idalis was back where he belonged - safe in Cassio’s arms, in his bed, the tears on his face long dried.

Yet they still needed to talk.

With an effort, he gave up the most comfortable position in the world, and turned to look Cassio in the eye. »Why did you do it?«

»I think you know why,« Cassio said softly, holding his gaze. Gods, his eyes were so pretty, even just glinting in the dark. »I had to - I only wanted to make sure you were safe.«

He was right, Idalis knew. He’d probably known from the start, deep down. And yet, it wasn’t a real comfort, knowing how much Ainsel was suffering for his safety.

»I didn’t want to hurt them,« Cassio continued. »I-«

Idalis interrupted him, even thought he wasn’t sure how he should explain himself, even to Cassio. »Don’t you - don’t you understand, they have been taught they serve one function only, and they are a whole entire person forced into that - that guise of a weapon. Even, even pets can have favourite treats and-« He caught himself sobbing, he wasn’t sure why. Poor Ainsel. They had deserved better, and for just a moment, the fury over what Cassio had done flared up again. But he couldn’t hold it against him, not anymore.

»I know.« There was an edge to Cassio’s voice now. »I wanted to go talk to them. Tell them it’s alright.« But you didn’t let me. He mercifully fell silent, but Idalis heard as clear as if he had spoken.

He lifted himself up on his elbows, tears running down his cheeks now.

Cassio reached out to wipe them off without hesitation, and for a moment, Idalis just leant into his touch.

»Let’s go see them then.«

»They may be asleep.«

»We’ll be quiet and see.« Idalis hopped out of bed, his heart a little lighter now he was taking action, trying to set things right. He wasn’t sure what he expected of Cassio, but after all it was his fault that he hadn’t been able to talk to them, that he hadn’t trusted him against better knowledge.

He threw on a tunic and led the way to Ainsel’s room down the hall.

* The weapon startled awake, never sleeping deeply curled up in its place on the floor, snapping onto its knees as always. They were aching. It hadn’t had much excuse to walk these past days.

Its heart rushed when it realized the door was opening. It had never been seen by night since the new king had taken it from its vault. What was happening? Was someone checking it was well-behaved by night also?

With a sudden, terrible sting, it realized the king had told it to sleep in the bed.

It hadn’t been able to bring itself to - to quite believe it.

But now-

»Good evening, Ainsel.«

The weapon froze. It wasn’t just the king - Cassio had come back. It shouldn’t make a difference, if anything it should be more anxious to please the king, and yet - it could feel its throat constrict around the feeble »I’m sorry« it squeezed out now that it was much too late.

»It’s alright.« Cassio crouched down before it, and that, too, was new. Usually it was the king who sat with it. It shouldn’t be, ever, but it was. It could hardly breathe.

»It’s alright, Ainsel,« he repeated. »I’m not… angry or anything. You did nothing wrong. And I’m not-« He interrupted himself while the weapon was still trying to process what he was saying. When he continued, his voice was almost - trembling? »No more tests, I promise.«

The weapon allowed themself a glimpse up. The only light came from the moon, but it was enough to make out the king sitting on the armrest of one of the chairs, observing them. So this had his approval. That was comforting.

»Thank you, sir,« it managed, but in the same breath, wondered whether it should, whether this was another test. It shouldn’t feel one way or another about being tested; acknowledging it as a good thing, out loud… ?

Cassio stood up, and it braced for a punishment. »It’s alright,« he repeated, and a moment later, the king swooped in to crouch down before it. Not sit, like he usually did.

»You’re safe, okay?«

»Yes, sir.« They couldn’t think what else to say. They could feel themself tempted, once more, to believe, to feel it, but a weapon shouldn’t feel.

»Alright, Ainsel. Now, how about we put you to bed?«

The weapon shrunk in on itself. It had known it had been wrong. And yet, the king’s tone was gentle, friendly even. This was all so confusing.

It caught itself glancing towards Cassio. It shouldn’t, it took its orders from the king first and foremost, but he had always been clearer, and it was so confused.

»It’s alright,« Cassio said quietly. »Come on, get up.«

The king, seemingly taking no offense from the interference, or from the way the weapon looked away from him, stood up and reached out a hand for the weapon.

So it got up, its stiff knees aching with the movement. The king took it by the hand. There was nothing forceful about his grip, but the weapon followed without hesitation when he led the way to the bed.

»There you go.«

The king guided it onto the bed, which was soft and… soft. It wasn’t the weapon’s place to judge whether it was comfortable; a weapon didn’t need comfort. It was so confused.

»There. That’s better, isn’t it?«

The weapon didn’t know what to say. It was only a weapon. Yet it couldn’t disagree with its king. »Yes, sir.«

The king himself pulled the blanket over it, tucking them in. It felt his soft touch at the shoulders, through the fabric. It wanted to cry with confusion and fear and relief and a thousand things a weapon should not feel.

»Good night, Ainsel.«

»Good night,« Cassio echoed after his king, as if to a person.

#whump #dehumanization #human weapon #whump writing #my writing #royal arms #ainsel #idalis #cassio

55 notes · View notes

vanlegion · 1 year

Text

“Grand”

"Actually, I'm glad we missed the bus." Jay spoke up, conviction in his voice.

Matthew turned to him with a raise eyebrow. Andrew also looked at him in confusion, holding onto the railing for dear life. "No, seriously. I know it's been a mess, and things have been..." "Atrocious?" "Terrifying?" "I was gonna say 'less than great'. Look, would we be here right now, looking at something like this if things hadn't gone sideways?" "No. We'd be at least half way to California by now. Probably in Nevada, at a pit-stop where we'd be having dinner, and not seven thousand feet in elevation!" Andrew balked, slightly bent as he clung to the railing. Jay frowned and shifted his gaze towards Matthew, giving the other man an almost pleading look. Matthew returned his gaze. This entire time he'd been running thin on what shreds of sanity and composure he'd had left. . . but that look. Matthew sighed and took in as much a breath he could. The elevation was indeed very much causing a bit of a headache, but not enough to diminish the sight before him. Jay so rarely was moved by anything other than magic. But he supposed this place could be viewed as pretty magical. He couldn’t stop his soft smile as he tilted his head and held out his hand. "As much of a complete mess these past thirty-six hours have been, I think. . . You're right." "What?! Jay's never right!" "I've been right about things before!" "And this is one of them. You see this place in photos or on TV all the time, but seeing it here, now, in person? It's... really amazing. I've never really thought about ever coming here myself but... here we are and I'm really happy to have this experience." Matthew spoke sincerely as he laced his hand with Jay's. Jay smiled widely, eyes almost seeing to reflect the light of the dying day. He pulled Matthew into him, kissing him as he did. "I'm sorry for messing up." "I know, and I'm sorry for getting so upset." "And I'm sorry for adding to all the stress, but I will hurl myself off this mountain if you two keep acting like lovebirds." Jay rolled his eyes, pulling away from Matthew but still keeping an arm around him. "Stop being a jealous bitch and get over here." Matthew arched an eyebrow, holding out his free hand towards the other man. Andrew looked indignant as he grabbed Matthew’s hand, and the man hoisted him up. “I am not jealous! You guys are just super sappy and-” “You’re still upset about Kelly.” Jay interrupted. “Of course I am! How could I not be?! Two years and four months of what I thought was the best relationship I ever had, gone, along with my backstabbing best friend!” “Dude, I’m pretty sure Nick didn’t actually do anything. But Kelly totally was sleeping around behind your back.” Jay frowned. “Oh and how would you know?” Andrew growled.

“Like recognizes like.” Jay shrugged. Andrew stared at Jay a moment before looking at Matthew, who shook his head in a way that seemed to indicate some sort of naivety. “Darling, I get that’s why you decided to last minute ditch going with Nick on the trip to the reunion, but you can’t let this eat you up. You need to let this go.” “Right, like you did in so easily in middle school when you two broke up.” Andrew grit his teeth. “Hey-” Jay barked, but Matthew squeezed Jay’s hand. “That’s my point. I’ve been there. It’s a terrible place to be in. I was a fucking mess. You were too. That whole Bernie thing really hit you hard. And it’s like I’m seeing it happen all over again. Andrew, you’ve done things over the last day I’d have never ever expected to see you do, or would believe if someone told me. That should be something to be proud of! Yet I’m worried you only did those things because of how little you cared if you got hurt, or worst.” Andrew said nothing, but the way he was holding back his emotions told Matthew everything he’d just said was hitting the nail on the head. Using the leverage that he was still holding Andrew’s hand, he pulled the man to his side and hugging his arm around the other’s waist.

“We’re here for you.” Matthew felt Jay copy his own movement, squeezing close as well. The fleeting thought of feeling sandwiched between the both of them made him feel just a little crowded, but not entirely unpleasant. “Okay, turn this was and say Spit-Roast!” Maury held up a camera centered on the three, though making sure to get in some of the beautiful scenic view. “Not now!” Matthew snapped, indicated Andrew’s obvious saddened state. “Alright, alright. Take care of the boy. I’ll check in later.” Maury waved, but still took a quick snap just for good measure. Matthew turned back to see Andrew staring forward, though finally letting the tears fall. Jay’s free hand found his own and laced them together, as he whispered into his ear and kissed his temple. Matthew returned the gesture, then rested his head against Andrew’s, which caused the other man to break out of his trace for a moment. “Take all the time you need.” Matthew spoke softly. Andrew gave a hollow half chuckle, a hum of acknowledgement, and after a few quiet moments spoke up. “I know you’re trying to help and be nice, but all I can think right now is that it feels like your flirting with me. Heh.” The silence continued on for a good few minutes, until Andrew’s eyes widened just a bit.

“Oh.” “Took you longer than I thought. But I suppose with current events and all.” Andrew turned his gaze towards Matthew, and held it. Matthew did the same. And again, for a good few minutes, the silence lingered. “Hey, guys, look.” Jay spoke up. “There’s a goat shitting off the mountain.” And thus, the magic this place held, suddenly came to a careening halt.

#big mouth #big mouth fanart #big mouth minific #big mouth andrew #big mouth jay #big mouth matthew #matthew macdell #jay bilzerian #andrew glouberman #big mouth netflix

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crystallizedkingdoms · 1 year

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day 7 of @johann-appreciation-week! the final day has come already huh. this one went by so quickly. i cant wait for the next one :3. just as a warning though, this fic discusses magnus' canon wonderland death under the impression hes actually dead, and alludes to johanns canon death. sad ending :(

you can also read this on ao3 <3

There is an end to every song. Even when you wish with all your might that the end won’t come, it will come and take all the music with it.

There is nothing anyone can do to stop it. Try as you might to stall the ending, to beg for that song to stay playing, forever and ever and ever, the end will catch up. An ending will always come.

Johann thinks about the end when Avi curls up in his bed, sobbing into himself. The two of them are in Avi’s dorm, desperately clutching each other’s hands like they are the only thing keeping each other down. Nothing really feels right when the Bureau loses an employee, of course, but to lose Magnus…

“They said ‘moving on is what he would have wanted.’ I hate that they’re right. I hate that they’re right because it is so hard to do that right now,” Avi says. His breath has that strong scent of alcohol that Johann hates, but he’s still mostly sober— if only because Johann had to rip the flask away from him. “Out of all of them, I didn’t expect Magnus to be the one to… to be the one…”

Johann wordlessly listens to Avi, a terrible pain of his own clawing at his heart. Nothing has felt quite right these past few days leading up to this year’s Midsummer, and what a way for this feeling to pay off. The death of Magnus Burnsides, of all people, and the downright fucking terrifying scene of the wilting surface that Johann had witnessed a few hours earlier.

“There’s so much happening, Avi…” Johann whispers. His voice cracks a little. A weak and small sound. Avi doesn’t reply. He just sighs and holds Johann a little tighter.

A million different thoughts swarm Johann’s head as he sits on the edge of Avi’s bed in silence: Why Magnus out of everyone? Is he really gone? Why is the fucking apocalypse happening down there and only Garfield seems to be the only one doing anything about it? Should I take Avi and leave? Is that more dangerous? What’s going to happen to the Bureau? Oh gods, do we even have time to do Magnus’s Rites of Parting before we figure out the last relic? I have to start writing his composition—

“Hey, you okay, Johann?” Avi asks. He is sniffling and shuddering, but he still looks up at Johann all worried. “You’re holding onto my hand so tightly. Your nails kind of hurt.”

Johann loosens his grips on Avi’s hand he didn’t even know he had tightened. “Sorry, I’m really sorry. I’m just— just overwhelmed. And I’m so scared, Avi. I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared. Nothing feels right,” Johann says through building tears. “Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel that everything feels wrong? ”

Avi takes a deep breath and sighs with his whole body. He props himself up onto his back, resting on the headboard of his bed. “Yeah, I know. There’s only so much we can take. And his death is… fuck, man, it’s a lot,” he says. Then, he tugs on Johann’s arm, beckoning him closer. “But… gods, Johann, no matter how wrong everything feels, we still have each other, don’t we?”

That’s not the only thing though! It’s not just his death. Everything feels wrong. Everything feels bad and we need to get out of here, Johann wants to yell, but he doesn’t say it. Even when it nags at him, that’s not what he says. Why would he? That’s not what Avi needs to hear. That’s not what anyone needs to hear at this moment.

“Yeah,” Johann tries to weakly smile, “yeah, we still have each other.”

Avi attempts to smile back. Johann knows deep in his heart, without having to think, that Avi’s smile looks better and more sincere than the one he’s currently giving. It’s unfair that even in this day of total hell, Avi is still the better comforter between the two of them. “Come closer,” Avi pleads. His voice drips with anguish and longing as he tugs Johann’s arm again. “Lay down with me, please?”

Johann looks down on the tear-stained sheets of Avi’s bed. How many times have they laid in this bed, talking about each other’s day, planning their next date? Was it right to lay in it when everything seems to be going so wrong? Shouldn’t they be doing something, anything about their situation?

Johann tries his hardest to ignore that side of him. He smiles more genuinely at Avi this time, then crawls closer to Avi’s side. In an instant Avi is clinging to Johann’s body, and Johann holds him just as tight. They are cuddling into each other, needing one another, both seeking shelter when they feel unsteady in the world around them. One much more than the other.

“We should stay here,” Avi says. “Let’s just stay here? In my room, together. Fuck whatever is happening out there, fuck the Relics, fuck everything. No need to do our jobs, not now. Let’s just… let’s just pretend that nothing is awful.”

Johann rubs his face into Avi’s chest. He needs to be as close to him as possible to block everything out. “How can we do that?” Johann asks. “How can we just hide from it all? It’s all lingering above us. It’s all coming down. It’s going to crash on me.”

“Very cryptic way of saying it,” Avi laughs awkwardly. “We can do… anything here. In the safety of this room.

You left your harp here last time, you could play something. I also have some snacks somewhere. We can eat. I have books we can read, too. We can talk about life, talk about anything and everything about our life after the Bureau. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?” His speech gets faster and faster in his rambling, like he’s urgently searching for anything to occupy his mind other than the terrible things around him.

It freaks Johann out a little, so he silently holds Avi tighter, as if to say, I’m here, Avi, I’m here with you.

That seems to calm Avi down a little. “Or we could… we can just rest. You can sleep in my arms. And everything will be alright,” he says. It sounds more like he’s trying to comfort himself more than he’s trying to comfort Johann. Not that Johann can be mad at that. Avi has always been the one that needs to talk in stressful situations like these. Johann isn’t going to deny him that.

“Sleeping in your arms does sound nice…” Johann hums and nuzzles into Avi. He feels calm in this embrace, and for a second, Johann does believe that they can lie here forever. That if they fall asleep in each other’s arms, they will wake up and the world will be right again. The mourning of Magnus will wreck the Bureau, of course, but Johann and Avi will make it through together.

Avi kisses Johann’s lips in a surprise moment of relaxation. Johann is a little shocked at first, but he kisses Avi back. The kiss is sweet, but long. Long enough that Johann raises his hand up to thread through his long, loose hair and keep it there. A comforting gesture for both of them. Johann melts into the kiss even more. He wishes it can last forever.

But there are things to do. Things to fulfill. They eat up at the corner of Johann’s thoughts, even after he pulls away from the kiss. Even after he tries to hide away in the crook of Avi’s neck and just let himself relax. His thoughts wander farther and farther from Avi, and back to work…

Oh gods, Johann’s work. He had so many pieces down at the Voidfish’s chambers that were laying there, unfinished. One of them was the Voidfish’s first meal it’s had in a while! He couldn’t just delay its feeding again.

“Avi, I…” Johann wriggles away from Avi slightly to sit up. “I haven’t fed the Voidfish. I have to go down there really quickly, I’m sorry.”

Avi stares at Johann with a look of disbelief. His eyes are still red and puffy from the crying, which sends a pained pang in Johann’s heart. “Johann, what? The Voidfish can live without a meal for a day,” he says, and damn it, those eyes he gives Johann are downright painful.

“No, I— I’ve been skipping its meals lately. I haven’t fed it in maybe weeks I think. I need to check on it. It’ll be quick, babe, please.”

Johann’s words seem to be settling into Avi, which he notices by the tension growing in his body. “You’re not serious are you? You’re just teasing me. Come on, you’re not really going to leave me here, are you?” Avi asks.

“I’m not leaving you, don’t say it like that! It will be really quick, I promise. I just need to go there. I’ll be in and out,” Johann tries to reassure.

“You always do this, Johann,” Avi seethes. “I know grief isn’t easy on you. I know you usually bury yourself in your work after someone passes here, but please, not this time. I’m begging you. Please stay with me.”

Johann looks away from Avi. He has to avoid those eyes or he won’t be able to go anywhere. “I’m sorry, I know I do this. Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe that’s where this shitty feeling is coming from, but god, let me go just this one time. Let me go and feed the Voidfish, and I’ll come back as soon as I can. I already have a full composition for it, it won’t need anything more than a few finishing touches, I’ll be quick— ”

“You being quick doesn’t change the fact that I am asking you to stay and you are leaving me for work! We should be supporting each other and all you can think about is your work?” Avi yells.

Johann freezes. Avi is yelling at him. When was the last time they yelled at each other?

Johann’s pulling himself away from Avi when he seems to realize. “Ah, um, Johann, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m just really stressed right now, and I…” Avi trails off, trying to catch Johann’s eyes. “I just really need you right now.”

Johann still refuses to look into Avi’s eyes. He’s staring down at the floor that is much cleaner and more inviting than his own mess down in the Voidfish’s quarters. “I need you too, Avi,” Johann says. “I hope you’re not reading this as me trying to avoid you or that I don’t need you to.”

Avi bites his tongue. “Then why are you going down?” he asks. His words sound strained and distressed.

“I need to feed the Voidfish. I need to… to be with my work. For one last time. We’re almost done with the mission, right?” Johann says. He finally turns back to face Avi, and there are tears streaming down his face. “We won’t be here anymore. I won’t feed the Voidfish anymore. And that’s— that’s equal parts so liberating and also terrifying.

“Once everything terrible out there in the world ends, and the Relics are gone, we’ll have our life together. The one we always talk about: where we move back down to Neverwinter, I play full-time and you look for another job, we meet each other’s parents and we love each other for years to come. There will be other nights I will be able to sleep in your arms.”

Johann takes Avi’s hand into his. He rubs his thumb over the tattoos on Avi’s fingers, wishing that this alone could prove to Avi just how much he really, truly loves him. “Does that make sense?” he asks.

Avi is starting to cry again, too. It was painful to watch Avi cry over Magnus, but knowing that Avi’s now crying over him is somehow even more painful. “I think I do,” he sighs. “I still would rather you didn’t do this. I really wish we could stay here together. I don’t want you to leave, but I guess I can’t stop you, huh?”

Looking into Avi’s eyes, Johann sees it. It is a fraction of the feeling that Johann is feeling, and he’s not sure if Avi can actually pinpoint it, but Johann recognizes that look in his eyes without a doubt: Avi feels everything is wrong, in whatever small way, too. Johann lifts Avi’s hand up to his lips and plants a small, teary kiss right on his ring finger. “I’ll be okay, Avi. I promise. You’ll barely even notice I’m gone, I swear I’ll be quick,” he says, his lips still pressed against Avi’s knuckles.

“Don’t say that. I always notice when you’re gone. I always will.”

Johann feels a little guilty for feeling really good about that. He feels really guilty for leaving Avi at all. He hates the idea of being alone when the world is going to shit all around them. Yet that alluring and captivating call that his work echoes out to him, the idea of being surrounded with his life’s work before he inevitably has to start packing up…

It pains Johann to admit that he finds it more enticing than sleeping in Avi’s arms.

Johann kisses Avi’s hand once more, then he leans down to kiss Avi on the lips. Avi eagerly kisses back, leaning up into Johann’s lips and trying to keep them as close as possible. They stay there for what feels like hours to Johann and only a fraction of a second to Avi. In reality, the kiss is neither too long nor too short. One thing that is certain about the kiss is just how full of love it is. Their hands tighten and caress each other’s fingers as a further show of support and love. It is here that they are safe. Here their sweet song plays uninterrupted.

But there is an end to every song. That idea hits Johann again and fills him with melancholy.

Avi is the one to end the kiss, surprisingly. He pulls away from Johann’s sweet lips with a sigh, “I… I won’t hold you back any longer this time, but you have to promise that we can discuss this habit when everything is better. Can you promise me that, Johann?” He is asking that with exhaustion so pitiful that makes Johann’s guilt eat up at him even more.

“Yes, Avi, I promise,” Johann says. With pain in his heart, Johann releases Avi’s hand and starts to leave the room.

“Wait,” Avi frantically says as Johann opens the door.

Johann turns around. His heart is pounding loud in his chest. “Yes?

“I love you, Johann.”

Johann thinks these might be the words that will snap him out of his daze. Some part of him hopes and prays that it is. He wants Avi’s love. He’s always wanted Avi’s love. Johan loves Avi, and Avi loves him so much. He should stay here, and let it last forever, right?

“I love you, too, Avi,” Johann chokes out. Then he steps out of Avi’s dorm room and closes the door behind him, following a thread of fate that had been wrapped around his fingers long before this Day of Story and Song.

When Johann goes down the elevator to the Voidfish’s chambers, we know what will happen. A song will end so that it can inspire all of reality to fight. To win.

There is an ending to every song, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Though that heartfelt invitation tried to stall it, an ending still came. Avi will spend the rest of his life thinking he could have stopped that ending, but the truth is, there was nothing he could do. Johann would’ve gone down there no matter what. An unalterable string of fate better left untouched.

Despite it all, it was still important. That invitation was still important. That invitation still made Johann think. It still made Johann feel loved. That will always be enough.

#johann appreciation week #taz johann #taz avi #johavi #ask to tag #my writing

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

Text

Debt Collection. Yan Childe x Reader [SMUT]

Tags: Mild dubcon ?, hate fucking, power bottoming, creampie, dirty talk, AFAB reader and degradation. Word count: 1.6k. Note: this could be considered apart of contractual obligations universe or something on the side. i’m not sure where it’d officially line up in the stories tl, i just wanted to write some sin .

This is the only plausible option left.

That’s what you told yourself when you walked into his office, what you told you told yourself when removing your clothes and when you climbed into his lap. He called it special treatment. Whispering huskily into your ear that you should be grateful he likes you so much, that anyone else would be dead in your position. The Fatui are not known for their leniency with debts. People go missing, their neighbors too frightened to question what might’ve happened to them.

Childe seems happy enough to remind you of this like it might make you feel better somehow. It doesn’t. All you want is for the stress on your business to be alleviated, for things to go back to how they used to be before him, even if it is wishful thinking.

Whatever his feelings are for you, you don’t care in the slightest. You’re doing this to get it over with.

“Mm, just like that,” Childe hisses out through clenched teeth, fingernails digging harshly into either side of your waist. “Take all of me in.”

Everything is so warm. His fevered touches, your face, every inch of your bare body. You do as he tells you, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Sinking down onto his dick, you despise the lascivious noises it makes from how terribly wet he’s made you. Childe’s gaze never falters from your own, watching unblinkingly as you take in every inch of his throbbing length. His grip on you tightens, steadying your trembling body, harsh pants leaving both of you.

You’re grateful for his lack of comments, already humiliated enough as is. The silence doesn’t last when he fills you completely, your walls slowly adjusting to his length. Even with the proper preparation, his considerable size causes mild pain. Each deep breath you take does little to steady your nerves. The weight of Childe’s stare is impossible to ignore.

Why is he looking at you like this? Why can’t he just silently get off and let it be over with? The passion burning in his ocean blue eyes is unmistakable, the waves of it threatening to drown you.

“Good girl,” he exhales, affectionately running a hand through your tousled hair. You let him do as he pleases. The odd intimacy behind what’s meant to be a tumble in the dark isn’t lost on you. “Now, you remember what I wanted, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, I do.” You confirm breathlessly, more blood rushing to your face upon remembering his vulgar instructions. Childe cups your face in his hands and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth when he moves away. This is the first time he’s kissed you, you realize, lips tingling. He does it with such ease, as if the two of you were lovers. The thought alone is enough to make bile rise in your throat.

“I’m afraid my memory is failing me. Be a dear and remind me of what you’re going to do.”

Of course, he’d make this as difficult as he can for you, you shouldn’t have expected anything different. The lascivious words discussed during your agreement reverberate in your head, and you push past your hesitations to repeat them. “I’m going… going to fuck myself on you.”

You feel his cock twitch excitedly inside you and shiver. He urges you on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And?”

“And… I’ll make you cum inside of me.”

“Get to it then.” Childe leans back into his chair, pleased so far with your submission. You take a deep breath, raising your hips up, wincing at how he stretches out your walls. When nothing but the tip of his dick remains inside you, you slowly sink onto him again, earning a low noise of approval. He really isn’t going to help you, is he? While full of him, you gyrate your hips, getting yourself more accustomed to his size. Childe’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, looking down at you through thick eyelashes.

“I didn’t expect for you to take your time like this,” he chuckles breathlessly, voice guttural and husky. “Not that I’m, ngh, complaining, I could watch this all day.”

You furrow your eyebrows, indignant at his comments. That’s the last thing you wanted...! You wanted to get this over with, to push past the embarrassment he’s inflicted on you. Spurred on by his comments, you raise and lower your hips onto his cock faster, the sensation of being stretched less painful than before. Childe lets out a breathy moan at your increased pace. No longer willing to hold himself back, he thrusts his hips up, throwing his head back at how good you feel around him. You can already tell the area he’s gripping will leave bruises. Hopefully, they can be covered up so questions don’t arise.

“Do you… do you know how much I think about you?” Childe breathes out, each word more strained than the last. The sound of skin on skin fills his office, a far cry from the normal business that goes on in here. Not that he cares in the slightest. You don’t want to know the answer, honestly, but he gives it to you regardless.

“Mm, I’ve thought about it even when we talk,” Childe confesses, head throwing back as he bucks himself up to meet your hips. “What you’d feel like… all the cute little noises you’d make when I made you pleasure yourself on my dick.”

Childe’s words strike a chord deep within you, your face getting even redder than before. You feel yourself getting closer to a release and feel frustrated by your lack of self-restraint. Childe’s chest rumbles with a low moan at how your walls tighten around him. He’s half wanting to fuck you against his desk, losing any shreds of patience that he’s somehow managed to hold on to. But knowing that you’re working oh so hard to make him cum is too tantalizing to pass up. He sees your reluctance fade into desire, no longer able to deny carnal pleasure. You’re enjoying this as much as he is but just don’t want to admit it.

He leans forward, wrapping his soft lips around your nipple and biting it gently, laughing breathlessly at the noise you let out. Childe’s hand that was on your hip goes to your chest, greedily playing with the soft mounds of flesh. He adores how you taste, how lovely and exposed you are before him now. All of the efforts that went into procuring you earned him such a ravishing sight.

Spurred on by his touches, you can no longer hold yourself back. Your movements get sloppier as you chase your own release, chest bouncing as you hold onto him for balance. Childe lets out a content noise at this. His strength is commendable, your hazy mind notices, as now he’s the one lifting you up and bringing you back down onto his cock. Strength all but gone, you lean forward, hoping to muffle your moans against his glistening neck. Your walls clench around him, a high pitch noise leaving your lips when you cum.

Childe wants nothing more than for you to remember this. For you to remember him. “That’s... right, [First]. Don’t ever forget that I’m the one who made you feel this good.”

You can barely register his words, mind far too foggy to think of anything. Curses start to leave his lips, from a foreign tongue which you assume to be his native language. His cock thrusts upwards inside you as Childe desperately seeks out his own release. Your energy is all but gone, leading you to feel silently grateful that he’s capable of getting himself off inside you without much help. A surprised yelp leaves your lips as he tugs your hair back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I want you to see this,” Childe manages to get out through gritted teeth. A throaty groan leaves him, hips stuttering. “Watch me as I cum inside you.”

Childe releases himself inside you, thrusting up as far as he can before stilling himself. You feel his hot seed fill you up, Childe intent on dumping all of himself as far inside you as he can. He pulls you further down onto him, head thrown back and panting as your walls milk his throbbing cock. You wince at the foreign feeling, the implications of him cumming inside you nerve-wracking. Finally, he lifts his head, a slight flush on his own face.

The room is silent, save for your panting. He keeps one hand on your already bruised hip and moves the other to cup your face. Childe’s eyes soften as you try your best to regain yourself.

It feels hot, sticky, and humiliating. You look around, looking anywhere that isn’t at Childe. He lets out an airy laugh at your obvious embarrassment, much to your displeasure, and you shoot him a hopefully threatening look. It has the opposite effect as intended. Childe coos at the endearing sight, tracing his fingers over your body.

“That’s... all you wanted, right? Can I go now?”

Childe shakes his head and you frown. “Mm... not yet, no. I’d say this only covers a portion of the debt, sweetheart.”

You knit your eyebrows together, indignation flaring, and go to slap him against your better judgment. Childe snickers, catching your wrist with ease and places unexpectedly soft kisses against your knuckles.

“Relax, relax, I was kidding,” Childe winks and you roll your eyes. “Just know this won’t be the last time I fuck you.”

“You’re... utterly shameless.”

“Maybe I am, but what can I say? Now that I’ve gotten a taste of you, I might just be addicted.”

#idk if this is really considered dubcon but i tagged it just to be safe #childe #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #tw: dubcon #not sfw #my stuff

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

💕 reader turns into a baby and obsessed with Bucky. Awww 🥺

Infant Issues

bucky barnes x reader / masterlist

warnings; fluff, morgan definitely being tony’s kid, biting, swearing, spoilers for IW and Endgame, mention of the blip, childish behaviour from adults, terrible humour (I really am sorry), spoiler for WV, mention of age gap, kinda a crossover, an absolute mess 😂

“Morgan?” Bucky frowned, as the girl tried to speed past him. It was not wise for anyone to allow the mischievous child run around the compound alone, she always got up to nothing but trouble, and there was such a glazing in her brown eyes.

She didn’t spare him a glance, instead, she bolted, causing the super soldier to sigh. He would have went after her if there weren’t already footsteps recurring from the path that she had just came from; it was his father. It so happened that there was a bundle of joy in his arms, crying like the sudden crack of dawn.

“What were you going to do, wait another five years to tell everyone about this one, Stark?” Bucky asked with a chuckle, though the cries from the infant muted at the sound of his voice. The child wiggled in Tony’s grasp, trying her utmost to reach out for the vibranium armed hero.

“She’s not my daughter, if she was, I think me and you would be having conversations.” Tony’s words spurred a frown to combust out onto Barnes’ face, and the billionaire sighed, shifting the baby so that the baby was in Bucky’s arms.

The child cooed up at him, her eyes were a baby blue, sure to avert possibly into a different colour once she grew elder. “Look, I didn’t ask if I could hold her, she’s cute, but why do you-“

“Morgan did it.” Tony willingly blamed his own daughter. With her various experimentations, she was definitely taking after him. He’d be sure to keep this one quiet from Pepper, otherwise he was almost certain that he’d be banned from bringing Morgan on expeditions to the compound.

“I though y/n was supposed to be watching her.” Stated the enhanced soldier, cocking his head at the information that he recalled. He promptly remembered you abandoning him half way through training the newbie recruits, because Happy was dropping Morgan off, and you had offered watch over her, despite the associate being there.

“She was, and now you’re going to have to watch over her.” Tony pointed specifically to the child in his arms, and that was when realisation hit Bucky. He gulped, breathing through his nose to calm himself, as all the pieces clicked perfectly together.

This was not just a child - it was you. As he gazed down at you, he could finally see the pouted expression that would fixate upon your face when you paid attention to him when you were drunk, there was a glazing over your eyes as you raised your small and innocent hands, scraping down the stubble of his chin, as you curled further into his arms.

“I am going to kill you.” He steadily spoke, huffing as Sam went to walk past, but stopped himself when he saw the bundle of joy that was content in the brooding soldier’s arms.

“What the hell! Did you and y/n have a baby or something without telling anyone?” Oh, how he wished those were the circumstances, and if the pair of you were to ever have a child together, then he would be impartial to the idea of doing so.

"This is not my child, it's y/n, thanks to Stark over there." He bounced you in his arms, he even felt a small dribble of spit seep through his shirt, but he didn't mind, not as his icy glare was intently prized upon the philanthropist.

"Hey, it was my daughter's fault, not mine!" Tony excused himself from the blame, holding his palm against his chest, as he received as such. Sam ogled at him for a second, before returning his attention back into Bucky, and little you.

He came forwards, reaching his hand towards you, keening as you went to grasp his. As you did so, a smile broke out upon the man’s face, until it contorted into a sharp frown, the noise of a yelp escaping from his lips. “That little bitch bit me.”

“Language.” Steve rounded the corner, his golden brows raising when he saw the infant contently resting in his best friend’s arms. “Did you and y/n have a baby without telling us?”

“That’s what I said!” Sam beckoned to the blonde, as he averted a strong gaze to you and your normal sized partner. "Until she bit me, it reminds me of that time that I tried to steal her fries."

"I don't see why your complaining." Bucky rolled his eyes, bracing you up straighter so that your forehead was pressed lightly against his shoulder. "I'm the one whose partner is an actual child."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam rolled his eyes in reference to how you were beforehand, before Steve cut in, directing his leading tone towards the men that were stood idly by.

"What actually happened?" Tony found his enquiry to be an opportunity to avert the fault from himself; how lucky indeed was it that Steve asked such a thing.

"Technically it's your fault capsicle. Morgan found your prototype of your unsuccessful time machine. As you can see, she turned into a baby, much like Lang. And if you want to push the blame off of yourself, blame these two for their asses disappearing."

"Hey, if I wanted to disappear, I wouldn't have made such a dramatic exit. I'd have just left for my sister's." Crossing his arms, Sam shook his head at the man that was not wearing his iron suit. He was unable to take any responsibility, unless it was for his genius brain wave of creating the true transportation for the time heist.

"Well I'm going to keep that noted for any future repercussions." Oh, how Wilson regretting mentioning that now.

"You left it out, within your daughter's reach." Bucky quirked his brow, as he prepared to head towards the storage of the private laboratory that was shared between the two science bros.

"Technically, that was the big green guy." Bucky vouched not to listen to Stark, instead, he continued to walk, leaving the three other men in his rear view, though for the most part, he could still hear them bickering.

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change."

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change." Tony mimicked Steve, thus only proving his point. He was certainly a man that enjoyed pressing people's buttons, it was a shining attribute of the once playboy, and god, did it annoy the hell out of Barnes.

As he entered the laboratory, he found the lab to be in a state of havoc. "Hey, it wasn't me this time." Scott laughed, as he used an extinguisher against the frayed machine, that was blubbering sparks from its ruined exterior.

"Smash!" A small green child, wearing glasses that were far too big for him, ran across the room, followed shortly by a child with long blonde hair wrapped up in a red cape, as though it were some kind of makeshift diaper.

"Explain." Bucky bluntly stated, clenching his jaw, as he cooed lightly at your cries that pierced the air. He bounced you in his arms, not quite certain of what he was supposed to do.

In his time, there wasn't exactly an education system to teach the men going to war how to parent, or even care for a child. A part of him panicked; it was you, he hated seeing you cry in general, but now he couldn't attempt to find out the cause for your falling tears.

"Aw is that y/n?" The man half dressed in his ant man suit asked, a bright smile on his face, as he reached out to hold you. To say Bucky was hesitant to pass you to him was an understatement. "I have a daughter, I've looked after a baby before."

"From jail?" The white wolf asked, as he heard a crash exhibit from the connecting room, obviously being the fault of the two most destructive avengers, or at least, their little versions. Being aged down was definitely certification for trouble, everyone knew that.

"Okay I wasn't in there for that long." Scott reassured him, he picked up a bottle of milk from the table, handing it to the metal armed man, whom had never fed a child before. He found himself, cautiously, keeping a watchful eye, passing you over to the former criminal, intently watching every movement that the man made.

Lange simply fed you. "Always thought you and y/n would have a cute baby, imagine its- oh yeah, well after all that stuff that happened with vision and SWORD, we thought it best to destroy any technology that was recovered from the old base. This part survived, and well, I went into its- okay, you don't want to hear the science, but basically Thor insisted he could break it with his hammer, albeit whilst I was inside of it, and it sent energy around the room that turned them into pubescent children."

"I can see that it did nothing to you. And I thought Morgan did it.”

"I was so relieved, lucky I- wait, was that an insult?" Bucky remained primitively silent, and that answered Scott's question. The hero sighed, as you finished nursing, and your arms reached for Bucky, to whom he passed you to. “And I lied...”

He literally blamed a five year old for the screw up of grown men. Tony was going to thrive off this information, whence he knew that his daughter was in fact not the culprit.

"What do we do now?" He was eager to find a cure for this betrothed science. Those whom were responsible for your decrease in age, well, one was running around the compound, and the other, well, he was even younger than Morgan currently.

"You could wait twenty years, I mean you two already have quite a big age gap, and please don't kill me. I'm not sure that Cap would approve, I am a vital source to the team!"

"I'm not going to kill you tic tac. Or at least not at least until we fix these three."

"Phew." Scott wiped his brow, blowing air from his mouth. "Wait thre- oh yeah, the little guy carrying the hammer that is bigger than himself, and the

"Okay, we need someone smarter." Bucky sighed heavily, as he hugged you in thought. "You tried hitting it again with the hammer?"

"Oh my god, I could be worthy!" Gasped Scott, running off to the next room, only to come back limping, a pained expression on his face. "Little Asguardian bastard hit me!"

Bucky contained his smirk, and instead passed you to Lang, venturing into the other part of the lab, finding that Bruce was asleep, a blob of snot hanging from his nose, he could see the hammer in the middle of the room, almost as though it were waiting for him to attempt grabbing the handle, and Thor was-

The minuscule god jumped from one of the shelves, wrapping his arms around the front of Bucky’s neck, as he put all his weight on the super soldier’s back. In all practicality, Thor was strangling him, and Bucky tapped his arm, trying to convince him to let go.

“I know who Noobmaster69 is.” Thor quirked his head, lessening his hold, as he promptly awaited his now older friend to continue. “It’s, its- his name is Wade Wilson.”

“Wilson!” No, gosh no. Bucky stood completely, making sure to keep Thor in the vicinity, he needed him to be so so that he could reverse the affects on the son of Odin.

“Not Sam. Wade.” He had never met the man before, but god did he seem like a dick. When the pair of you were getting a taxi, the driver Dopinder just could not shut up about his friend, who liked to wear red, and had a kink for unicorns.

Wade certainly sounded like a weird one, but right now, his pass time was getting Thor to pick up that hammer. “Where can I find this Wade?” It practically left his mouth as a hiss, if the imagery and proven death supposed otherwise, he’d possibly think it was Loki instead.

“I will tell you, if you pick up that hammer, and hit it against that old machine. Got it buddy?”

“It’s name is Stormbreaker!” Bellowed the norseman, who tried to slide off his back, but Bucky kept a hold of his legs, refraining him from going anywhere. “Get peter to do it, I don’t want to play that game anymore!”

“Uuh, hi Mr Barnes...” That voice, oh he knew it, and the majority of the time it irritated him, he was Tony's little pet. “And, baby avengers?”

“Don’t ask kid.” Peter nodded, as he went to reach for a spanner. “Can you pick the hammer up, are you worthy?”

“Am I worthy?” He wondered aloud, his eyes fixated on the hammer, as he stepped towards it, holding his hand out, and clasping his palm around the handle, it feeling weightless in his grip, as he picked it up without effort. “Oh my god (it’s Robert Downey Junior)!”

“Great, now take it out there, I’ll deal with these two. And don’t do anything yet.” He was certainly feeling like a sergeant, throwing all the orders to the others, Peter complied, carrying the hammer as though it were an empty duffel.

“Can I try?” Instantly, after Peter passing it to him, Scott had such hope, until the force of gravity hit, and it fell on his foot, causing a light scream to ripple through his throat. “Get it off, get it off!”

Peter did so, as Bucky kept Thor on his shoulders, and grabbed a hold of Bruce’s chubby little ankle, dragging him into the other room. “Shit he’s heavy.” He saw that you were sat in the grand spinny chair, making Bucky relived that you weren’t in Lang’s arms as he attempted to have a moment of worthiness.

“What’d you do, go all Winter soldier on his ass and knock him out?!” Half screamed the prodigy of Hank Pym.

“Of course not, I think Thor did it.”

“Oh yeah, blame the kid because I did the same.”

“Put your suit from Stark on kid, unless you want to become a fetus.” Bucky ignored Scott for the moment,

“I got Hope to send her outfit, it will stretch to accommodate you, but I also think it would hug your shape nicely.”

“That was fast.” Muttered Peter, and Bucky shook his head, eyeing the outfit with weird eyes.

“I’m crazy, but not crazy enough to wear that.” Sighing, he grasped it in his hands, walking to the other room to squeeze into it. He noticed you watching, and thus he turned the chair around so that you couldn’t see anything. Little did he realise until he came out, that you had spun it around again, and was giggling. “Don’t laugh at me, or you won’t be allowed to see it when you’re returned to normal.”

A pout settled on your small lips, and it appeared as though you were getting ready to cry again, but before you could do so, a distraction intervened. An uninvited, and confusing one.

“Stop. Can I just say, that is some cruel declaration for the both of you, you’re my fave ship, after me and Hugh Jackman of course, but he doesn’t even know that this version of me exists.” A newfound imposter called out, his arms raised in the air. Leather gloves crinkled as he twitched his fingers, his white eyes freaking Scott the fuck out. “May I join you on this journey? I read about you guys in comics. And can I just say, I want to see these hunks and that hottie all grown up.”

“You want to see me go Winter Soldier on someone Lang?” Bucky gritted his teeth, prepared to murder this man for ever posing such words about you into the open air. Him speaking obviously drew some attention to him though, but it was not his rage that was mentioned, instead, it was his attire- or well, Hope’s.

“Nice suit Buck Buck. Can you do a twirl for me, I wanna see if it competes with America’s ass. Damn, does that man have some buns on him.”

“I know right!” Scott eagerly agreed, earning a smack in the nuts, to which had made him close to crumbling.“You had to use the metal hand, didn’t you.” Whimpered the Ant to the false Wasp, clamping his hands over his goods as he half hunched over. “I thought you often forgot to use it coz your right handed.”

“You’re on my left.” Gross, he sounded like Sam.

“Who the hell are you?” Thor spoke, and it felt familiar on his tongue. It was as though he had asked an enemy the same thing before...

“I, am Noobmaster69.”

“Hi, I’m Peter. Oh, we’re using our made up names, I thought Sam said it was that guy from that tech place.” Peter scratched his head through the mask, providing a small verbal distraction, as Thor willingly set himself free, launching at the intruder, whilst snatching the hammer from a suited up Peter.

“Aaasrrrghh.” He screamed like a true deity of the vikings.

“Thor, no!” Lang screamed, knowing that he’d have to come up with another excuse. The cameras had been fused whence Thor had first struck the hammer in the room, and it abused the guy in the red suit as he went for his legs, attacking the friend of Dopinder.

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halfelven · 3 years

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Hey there! Happy 22nd of September! Do you have any thoughts on Thranduil?

no thoughts, only Thranduil

but no actually I have too many thoughts on Thranduil

he's 7'1" which puts him a full foot taller than Legolas

he has a scar almost completely encircling his neck from a dwarven garrotte, which he tends to cover with his clothes or chokers. (it's a necklace he can never remove)

he was hit by lightning when crouching for cover, and the lightning left a huge scar over his left hip and down his leg/up along his abdomen

his dancing is magic in a stronger way than most elves

his movements too hold a lot of power

he'll lift his fingers in a wave, and that's making the wind stronger somewhere

he tied so much of his magic to his land that he is part of the forest itself, and can use the plants, the fungi to see what is happening throughout the forest

he took a /lot/ of pain to protect his people, but he's still kind and loving

he's aromantic

and extremely bisexual

he was one of the last people to see Elrond and Elros at Sirion

he has chronic nose bleeds

his skin is almost see-through and catches light in terrible ways sometimes

(but they are still beautiful)

sometimes he thinks that gathering silver and gems will make all the horrors of his past worth it because that's what everyone wanted

sometimes he just wants them because he knows what people will do for wealth and it's a guarantee to keep his people alive

he's half Silvan, and views himself as Silvan

his script looks a lot like Bilbo's, and they were both delighted by this

I am going to make a separate post about /why/ I think this BUT

he paid a realm's worth for a mithril shirt for Legolas when he was a child (so nothing should ever happen to him)

when Legolas outgrew it, it went back to Erebor to be re-made but Erebor was attacked before that happened

this wound up as Bilbo's, and then Frodo's

he laughs a lot and tends to cover his face with his hands when he laughs

it used to be very easy to make him blush, but it's not as easy anymore so Elrond goes out of his way to make Thranduil blush around him

he likes borrowing other people's clothes because he likes just holding onto something that smells like the people he loves

he's tall but very slim so sometimes he borrows shirts from people and wears them as crop tops

he and Legolas still have adjoining rooms because Legolas never wanted to move out of what was once his little nursery

he has five dogs (think Karelian bear dogs) and will pat them all the time and still carries them around like they might be puppies

he went to visit the Shire a few times with Legolas and was Delighted by it

he and Pippin made an alliance

he still picks Legolas up all the time because he's smaller than him and so much younger than him that Thranduil has a hard time not thinking of him as a child still when they're not working

but he's very proud of Legolas

his favourite colour is green

he bakes apple pies and spice cakes that look a bit wonky and taste amazing

he made people who fell beneath his spell dream of feasting and happiness because he thought it the kindest way for them to die if die they must

he is not cruel, but he has seen cruelness, and he will not underestimate it

he slept in Elrond's bed, and then Celebrían and Elrond's bed, and then Elrond's bed again when he visited Rivendell

he also visited a long time when Elladan and Elrohir were born to help raise them because the amount of magic it took to stabilise them and keep them alive was intense

they had it better figured out when Arwen came, so he didn't have to help as much

in turn, Elrond came to help with Legolas, even though he didn't need help, he still asked Elrond for it

he is best friends with Gandalf and isn't afraid to hug him when he's being grumpy, which most of his friends are

he really loves sledding and goes out every winter with all the elf children to pull them up the hill and ride down with them if they're scared

he's just all the children's uncle/grandfather and will play with them whenever he can

also he has a lot of plants in his room

and he likes koi fish

he gets cold on his nose and ears easily and then they get flushed and his cheeks too and he wraps his face up in a scarf so only his eyes are showing

thank you I love him so much! <3

and I was surprised I haven't done a headcanons list of him that I could find

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Lan Wangji does not think it’s safe to raise A-Yuan in Cloud Recesses after the Lans participated in the killing of his zhiji and the entire Burial Mounds community (or more accurately that it’s not safe while he himself is in seclusion and can’t watch over A-Yuan, at least) so he delivers A-Yuan to the one person who he knows did not stand against Wei Wuxian (and got away with it, bc this person has never stood against anything, since standing takes effort): Nie Huaisang.

Little Side Door - ao3

Nie Huaisang’s rooms in the Unclean Realm had a little side door that no one but him ever used.

They hadn’t originally. The Unclean Realm was a fortress, designed to maximize protection and defense; there was no better place for keeping things safe by locking them away. While it had its fair share of boltholes and escape routes, they were not common and universally difficult to access lest the enemy learn of them and use them to their advantage. Even the layout of their open spaces were carefully planned lest the attack come from the sky, a concern that only cultivators had, and not about how they themselves could escape – after all, weren’t they all Nie, ready to die rather than endure dishonor?

The little side door that led to Nie Huaisang’s room opened onto a small rock garden, left to grow wild with weeds rather than reveal its presence to more people. It existed only because his brother had ordered it constructed by those he trusted most, all in secret in the dark of the night. He had never explained why he had gone to such lengths to create such an unwelcome and inauspicious place, but then, he hadn’t needed to – Nie Huaisang had been there, too, when his father had descended into madness and they had been trapped in the familial quarters with no way out that did not take them through him. If his brother had been the one to brave his father’s rage directly, Nie Huaisang had been the one stuck in a small space that was only not claustrophobic because it was so painfully familiar.

Now, though his father was long dead and gone, Nie Huaisang had a little side door.

A little side door, and a little garden that almost no one knew about; in combination with the saber that his brother forced him to learn and the golden core he had so begrudgingly formed, he now had a way to reach the sky and the illusive freedom it represented – the freedom to flee and leave his home behind.

If it ever happens again – his brother had said once, the closest he had ever come to speaking of it.

He did not finish his sentence, as Nie Huaisang had thrown his plate into his face and stormed off, steaming mad and close to tears. He did not raise the subject a second time.

Nie Huaisang did not often use his little side door.

Although he enjoyed gardens, he preferred the aviary he’d constructed, or one of the myriad of well-tended gardens in the main part of the sect; even the vegetable gardens out back beside the kitchens were far more welcoming than that sparse straggle of land. He’d only ever spent time there when he was a child and in desperate need of some quiet, wanting to avoid adults with their arguments and their miseries; he’d taken some friends there because he thought it might impress them, but it hadn’t, and anyway his brother had put a stop to that soon enough.

He didn’t even think about the little side door, most days. It was just a part of the room, a small tucked away corner with nothing in it. Nothing to think about.

And then, of course, years after he’d put it out of his mind entirely, there came a terrible banging noise at that little side door, like someone was kicking at it furiously from the outside.

Nie Huaisang nearly fell over sideways in his scramble to get up, and then once again when he realized where the noise was coming from – almost no one knew about his side door and its little garden, and so no one had ever come to him through it. Who would be knocking now…?

He opened it.

Lan Wangji, white robes stained with blood and cheeks bright with fever, shoved something into his arms. “You have a child now,” he said through bitten lips. “Congratulations. He is called A-Yuan. I entrust you with his care, for my sect cannot be trusted with it.”

And then he turned and staggered away, mounting up on Bichen and flying off before Nie Huaisang could say anything – before he could even finish searching his memories and recalling that yes, in fact, Lan Wangji had been one of the friends he had shown the side door to, years and years before, and thus knew how to find it. Before he could even start processing the thousands of thoughts that had spring to life, fully formed, at all the information he’d just received: the bloody robes, the desperation, the reference to the Lan sect – the Lan sect! – being somehow untrustworthy…

He looked down at his arms.

“Congratulations,” he echoed blankly. “I have a child now.”

The child blinked up at him, and then smiled.

“Da-ge!” Nie Husiang howled, rushing into the sect leader’s study where his brother was doing work – luckily it wasn’t receiving hours and he wasn’t in the main hall, as that would have been unfortunate. “Da-ge, you have to help me! I have a child now!”

His brother stared at him, expression blank and mouth slightly agape. The brush in his hand dripping ink onto a now-wasted piece of paper.

“Huaisang,” he said after a moment. “What the fuck.”

Nie Huaisang nodded furiously.

“Where did you get – how – who – what did you do?!”

“I am currently unable to disclose any details,” Nie Huaisang said promptly even as his brother tossed aside the brush and got up, striding over with a storm brewing in his face. “All I can say is that I have to raise this child now. By which I mean, you have to help me raise this child now; I can’t raise children! I’m not mature enough to raise a child!”

“No kidding! Why would someone entrust – to you…” Nie Mingjue trailed off, looking down at the child with a frown that shifted from disbelieving irritation to concern. He pressed his hand to the child’s forehead. “Huaisang, this child has a high fever. We need to get him to the medical wing at once – is that blood?”

“Not his, I don’t think?”

“I don’t want to know,” his brother decided. “Move.”

Some time later, they were both sitting next to the bed in one of the spare rooms in the family quarters; Nie Huaisang thought it might even have been the same one that he’d used when he was very young. A-Yuan was sleeping, and Nie Mingjue was still holding his little hand in his own, having been clocked as the oversize comfort animal that he not-so-secretly was from the very first moment A-Yuan laid eyes on him.

The doctors had declared A-Yuan’s fever to be very severe, but they had applied plenty of medicine – the Lan sect might have more esoteric healing techniques, but there wasn’t anything like the Nie sect when it came to standard medicine for injuries and illnesses associated with the battlefield, and despite A-Yuan’s tender age Nie Huaisang would be willing to bet that his injuries were from a battlefield. They were confident that A-Yuan would make a full recovery, body and mind both intact, although they warned that his memory of the past might be impacted.

Nie Huaisang had thought about all that blood that wasn’t his, of Lan Wangji pale-faced and wild-eyed, and decided that a little bit of forgetting might not be so bad after all.

“Are you going to tell me anything more,” his brother said after a while. “Or should I just give up now?”

Nie Huaisang leaned over and patted his knee. “It’s good that you know your limitations.”

His brother rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he remarked.

“What part?” Nie Huaisang asked, curious. “The fact that we have a kid now, because obviously we’re keeping him? Or the fact that someone gave a kid to me?”

“Both,” his brother decided. “Definitely both.”

“His name’s A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently.”

“Well,” his brother said. “Obviously that won’t do.”

Nie Huaisang had the ability to be sneaky when he wanted to be. It wasn’t a matter of stealth, he had explained to his brother, but sneakiness– a completely different concept. Stealth suggested that he was doing something to conceal himself and required skills and talent, or else a lot of practice, and obviously Nie Huaisang was not going to go in for either of those.

Sneakiness, though…

He didn’t need people not to be able to see him in order to be sneaky. He just needed them not to care about him, or wonder where he was.

“Psst,” he said, knocking on the window to the rooms where Lan Wangji was purportedly practicing seclusion. “Psst! Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji had given him a child. They were definitely past the ‘Lan-er-gongzi’ stage.

“Lan Zhan!” he rapped at the window with his fan. “We need a courtesy name!”

There was some sounds from within the jingshi, mostly stumbling around. Nie Huaisang waited patiently, and after a few moments the window opened and Lan Wangji stared out at him. He was as pale as a ghost with lips as red as blood, and very clearly not in seclusion at all, but rather in the midst of healing whatever wounds had left him bloody – he probably shouldn’t have gotten out of bed to answer.

Oh, well. Too late for regret now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lan Wangji said, voice dull and eyes blank as he stared at Nie Huaisang. It was unclear if he meant in the Cloud Recesses generally, or here in particular, interrupting his ‘seclusion’.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nie Huaisang said, scowling at him. “We need a courtesy name! A courtesy name for the child, you hear me? You know, of course, that Qinghe Nie don’t use personal names, not even for children – certainlynot for children older than their first year. It’d be a complete giveaway that he’s not organically ours if we call him something like A-Yuan.”

Lan Wangji raised a hand to pinch his nose. “Please go away.”

“Courtesy name, Lan Zhan. I mean, I may be the one who’ll be raising him, but please think carefully: do you really want meto be the one naming him?”

“…call him Sizhui.”

“Sizhui,” Nie Huaisang repeated. “With the characters…?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“Uh, no,” Nie Huaisang said. “I need a bettercourtesy name. Are you joking?”

“Nie Huaisang. Go away.”

“But –”

Lan Wangji slammed the window shut.

“…fine,” Nie Huaisang said to the closed window. “Be that way, see if I care. Not like we don’t need to build up a decent coparenting relationship or anything eventually.”

He thought he heard a choking sound from behind the door and smirked.

“Don’t you think you can baby-trap me and just walk away, Lan Zhan,” he said in his best ominous tone. “If you wanted someone to raise your kid without ever consulting you again, you should’ve dropped him off in the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, who’d probably be too busy being confused to even question where he came frome – but no. You came to me. I don’t make decisions in the best of times, least of all good. I have questions. A lot of questions.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“Not about how you got him or anything like that,” he said. “I’m not stupid, I can tell a secret when I see one. But, you know, other types of questions. Parenting stuff. Are you a ‘go sit and think about what you’ve done’ sort of parent? Or more traditional discipline, with copying lines and occasionally strikes when they’re naughty? Do you want him to learn the Lan sect rules along with the Nie sect principles –”

There was a muffled sound from inside the house.

It sounded angry.

“…we can talk about it later,” Nie Huaisang decided. He might’ve pushed his luck a bit too much. “Talk later!”

“You have a…what?” Lan Xichen asked, his smile a little fixed and stare a little wilder than normal.

“A nephew!” Nie Mingjue gushed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Nephew.”

“He’s so well behaved, too! He plays quietly by himself most of the time, drawing and even writing a little, and Huaisang’s already teaching him how to play the dizi –”

“When you say nephew, do you mean Nie Huaisang’s child?”

“Do I have other brothers?” Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “He’s obviously not yours. Anyway, I know Meng Yao is expecting one, too, but he wouldn’t be dressed in Nie colors if it was his, would it?”

“Yes, but…are you telling me that…that Nie Huaisang…”

“It’s a battlefield child, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “Obviously. Someone entrusted him to Huaisang.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said, looking relieved. “Yes, that makes more sense…wait.”

Nie Mingjue waited.

“Someone entrusted him to Nie Huaisang?”

“I know, right?” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen didn’t notice how strained his grin had suddenly become, or how thoughtful his eyes were as he surveyed Lan Xichen as if trying to find an answer to a question. “I would’ve assumed they’d go for someone more responsible, like you. Guess you never know…”

“I guess you don’t,” Lan Xichen agreed, looking down at the child with a bemused expression. A battlefield child, entrusted to Nie Huaisang… “They must have been truly driven to desperation.”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, and then changed the subject to little Nie Sizhui’s accomplishments, of which he could list many at great length and very great enthusiasm. By the time he was done with that, Ln Xichen was so overwhelmed that he didn’t ask a single other question.

“So I’ve got an idea on how to do this whole co-parenting thing,” Nie Huaisang said, cracking nuts to eat. He was sitting next to Lan Wangji’s bedside, and dropping the shells straight on the floor, too, staring dead-eyed at Lan Wangji as if daring him to say something – which he wouldn’t, of course. “Since with Sizhui starting classes soon it’s become much more urgent, on account of me needing you to attend meetings with his teachers and discuss his progress.”

Lan Wangji looked deeply long-suffering. He’d only invited Nie Huaisang inside because Nie Huaisang had threatened to start shouting out his business loudly on account of oh but Lan Zhan, how was I to know if you could hear me in there, I just had to raise my voice just in case because I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the extremelyimportant news –

It was all Lan Wangji’s fault for being born earlier than Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang thought virtuously. It was merely Nie Huaisang’s lot in life to fulfill the role of annoying younger brother to everyone.

“See, it’s the music,” Nie Huaisang continued. “You do music, right?”

Lan Wangji’s ice-cold glare suggested that he did, in fact, ‘do music’.

“So your brother has been playing this song for da-ge on a regular basis,” Nie Huaisang explained, ignoring the glare entirely. “And when he’s not available, which is most of the time nowadays, he’s been sending san-ge instead. Even though, of course, poor san-ge’s so busy back at Lanling all the time…ughh, it’s so unfair, you know! Poor san-ge has to do all the work of being the heir and gets none of the benefits, and they pile even more work on him on top of that – really, he gets no respect.”

Lan Wangji’s expression suggested he didn’t care.

“And think about the inconvenience to us!” Nie Huaisang sallied forth, undeterred. “People coming and going all the time, da-ge having to interrupt his schedule of spending quality time with me and Sizhui – and sect leader work, of course, though that’s less important – in order to march over to greet them and host them and listen to them…what a pain it is!”

Lan Wangji appeared on the verge of suggesting that Nie Huaisang consider getting to the point.

“So you should come do it instead.”

Lan Wangji’s expression cracked, suggesting that Nie Huaisang had actually managed to make an impact.

“You remember,” he said, voice low and a little hoarse from all that refusing to speak he’d been doing. Really, if Nie Huaisang wasn’t around to goad him into it, he might’ve lost the voice entirely – he didn’t even have little Sizhui around to force him to speak! “That I’m in seclusion. Right?”

“You’re horribly lonely is what you are,” Nie Huisang said briskly. “You require company. Therefore, coming to take up a semi-permanent posting in the Unclean Realm to play the Song of Clarity for my brother morning, noon, and night is clearly the finest way to solve all of our problems, and for you to see little Sizhui as often as you like.”

Lan Wangji visibly wavered. “My brother,” he said, then coughed. “My brother will never believe it.”

“That’s your problem,” Nie Huaisang said. “Find a way to sell it.”

He stood, shaking the remaining shells onto the chair.

“See you in Qinghe soon, Lan Zhan..!”

Lan Wangji was trying to kill him with his mind, Nie Huaisang thought happily as he wandered off with a whistle and a vaguely silly expression. Good – he’d been inside for too long. He needed the stimulation.

“Truly,” Nie Mingjue remarked, strolling around their gardens without any apparent notice of the small child perched on his shoulders, giggling wildly at the feeling of being tall, “I feel far better than I did before! One can scarcely compare it – night and day, really. Your Lan sect’s Song of Clarity is a marvel, even if it does take a while before it kicks in.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said, walking slowly with his hands behind his back. He was still unsteady on his feet on account of the absolutely horrific injuries he’d incurred – but if the Lan sect’s response to everything was seclusion, seclusion, seclusion, then the Nie sect’s equivalent response was exercise. These little excursions through the gardens were the result.

Thus far, they were still only doing laps around the main gardens, but Nie Huaisang had plans to eventually force Lan Wangji to go even as far as his own little side garden. He’d made it through his side door once, after all; why not a second time..?

At any rate, Nie Huaisang still wasn’t quite sure how Lan Wangji had talked Lan Xichen into allowing him to come to the Unclean Realm, but it really did make the whole co-parenting business a lot more convenient. And his brother had had so much fun making Lan Wangji stiff and awkward over all his thanks and praise for his decision to come ‘help out’ with Nie Sizhui’s raising until finally, at last, Nie Huaisang had taken pity and revealed that Nie Mingjue knew perfectly well whose battlefield child this was.

Both in terms of who had gifted him to Nie Huaisang, and who’d adopted him originally, and of course even his original surname – The little tot’s been through enough adoptions to make anyone’s head spin, his brother had said, his voice gruff as always. There’s no point in thinking back too far, is there?

Lan Wangji had been very relieved.

“Run, bobo!” Nie Sizhui cried, pointing over at a bird. “We need to get it for Sang-gege!”

Nie Mingjue snorted like a bull but obediently quickened his feet and left the rest of them behind, heading in full charge straight at the wild pheasant that was far more likely to end up on Nie Huaisang’s plate than in his aviary. It was about even odds which one Nie Sizhui meant, anyway.

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said, his voice low, and Nie Huaisang looked at him. “The Song of Clarity does not take time to work. These effects should have happened at once.”

Nie Huaisang opened his fan, hiding his face as he frowned. “How odd,” he said. “And after san-ge put in all that hard work.”

“Perhaps he played it wrong.”

“Odd,” Nie Huaisang said again. “When san-ge gets so very little wrong…has your brother sent any word on the Xue Yang issue?”

“…he has not.”

“He’s going to need to pick a side eventually.”

“He does not want to make things difficult for his sworn brother.”

“Does he have only the one?” Nie Huaisang asked archly, and Lan Wangji averted his gaze. “It’s awkward for us if he doesn’t back us, and is a bad look besides…truly, it’s a wonder that san-ge managed to squeeze out the time to come here.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened. “Indeed,” he said. “One would think his father might be tempted to stop him.”

“Wouldn’t you just?” Nie Huaisang said. “Wouldn’t you just…you know, maybe when you’re feeling better, we should go visit Lanling ourselves.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him, arching an eyebrow, and Nie Huaisang smiled, fanning himself casually.

“I’m not the only one with a little side door,” he said. “Let’s go knocking and see what we find, shall we?”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #lan wangji #lan sizhui #nie mingjue #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #little side door

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halstudandruz · 3 years

Text

Research Purposes (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Bearded Jay Smut

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

A/N: I know the timeline is off but just go with it.

Sitting at the bar, you couldn’t help where your eyes wandered across the room. You were at Trudy and Mouch’s wedding, and even though it was a joyous occasion you were kind of ready to go home from the start. The night before you had discovered your ex-fiancé and the new girl in intelligence were dating, and it was safe to say you were drowning in your sorrows. You and Adam had been broken up for almost a year, but you still loved him and in the back of your mind you just hoped time would give you both the perspectives you needed and you would be back together. You had no right to be upset, but you were having trouble convincing yourself of that. The night was starting to wind down, as you downed a shot. You had held it together for Trudy wanting her to have the best day ever, but since they had left a few minutes prior you were ready to get drunk enough you couldn’t remember your own name.

“You know the longer you sit still the harder it’s gonna hit when you stand.” Jay teased sliding in next to you.

“Good.” You sighed, turning around to take another drink.

“Well in an effort to ensure I don’t have to carry you out of here would you like to dance?” He asked, holding his hand out to you. Contemplating for a minute he smiled when you took a hold of his hand following him out to the dance floor. Frank Sinatra played in the background while his hands slowly moved to rest on your hips. You and Jay were friends. You worked together and were around each other a lot. You got along well, and you weren’t afraid to admit he was an attractive guy, but you had always been locked in on Adam. So, your friendship never even toed the line. You never even thought about it, until tonight.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you found out.” Jay whispered into your ear looking down at you.

“Found out about what?” You eyed him curiously until he nodded towards where Hailey and Adam sat laughing together.

“Wait..you know?” He nodded, “How long has it..?”

“I only found out a week or two ago so it probably hasn’t been that long.” He shrugged,“How’d you find out?” He continued. Sighing your hands rested on his chest.

“Today was actually supposed to be Adam and I’s wedding day. Before we decided to push it. So, I kind of went down a dark hole after the rehearsal dinner and went to see him. When he answered the door I saw her come out of his room.” You chewed on your lip.

“Oh fuck. What’d you do?” He pried.

“I made some excuse about not being able to find something I needed for today so I thought I might’ve accidentally left it there when I moved out or left or whatever. I was just going to leave, but then I had to pretend to look for it, and when I went into his room a bunch of her stuff was there. You know in the dresser I used to use.” You recounted the night before swallowing hard.

“That sounds awful. I’m sorry.” He shook his head pulling you closer as he moved a hand to rub your back.

“Yeah it wasn’t my finest moment. I’ve been avoiding him all day,” you chuckled blinking tears away, “How are you feeling about it?” You looked up at him hoping to shift the focus off you.

“What do you mean? Why would I care?” He masked.

“Come on Jay.” You scoffed giving him a look.

“I don’t have any say in what or who she does.” He said.

“How do you let it roll off you so easily? Not let it bother you?” You wondered.

“I want her to be happy, and wishing that I was the one over there isn’t going to do anything for either of us.” He shrugged nonchalantly, “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have fun too right?” He continued.

“I don’t know. I guess.” You replied.

“You do, and that is why you’re out here dancing with me.” He smiled, spinning you effortlessly, causing you to laugh. You and Jay would spend the next hour talking and dancing letting your minds push away the two people across the room.

Jay and you were caught up in conversation, your bodies practically up against each other causing heat to surface on your face at the feeling of his hands holding you close. His tie now hung loosely on his shoulders, the top few buttons of his dress shirt open, and his sleeves had been rolled up allowing you to see the veins throughout them. You had never realized how attractive he actually was until you were this close, eyes counting the freckles that covered his face.

“Incoming.” he mumbled looking over your shoulder; breaking you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Adam walking towards you.

“No no no.” You whined hands gripping Jay’s shoulders tighter. Adam clearing his throat when he reached you,

“May I cut in?” He asked, looking between the two of you. A glint of confusion present in his face. Jay’s eyes shifted from him to you, registering your panic of having to face him right now.

“Uh actually I just offered to take her home. We were just heading out.” Jay attempted to save you.

“Oh well we’re going to be going right past your place we could just drop you off so Jay doesn’t have to go out of his way, and I’d actually really like to talk to you for a sec-“ Adam started to grab your hand.

“No it’s all good. No big deal. I already promised her I would.” Jay stepped slightly in front of you.

“Yeah I’m just going to go grab my coat and say bye to Sylvie. See you on Monday.” You pointed walking off to leave Adam and Jay alone on the dance floor. “You didn’t have to do that.” You smiled softly when Jay fell back by your side.

“He shouldn’t get what he wants all the time.” Jay shrugged.

“So is the ride offer actually on the table?” You asked.

“Of course.” He smiled helping you put your jacket on before pulling his on and heading out to his truck.

Walking outside you had made it almost to his truck ensuring you were far enough away from the door that people wouldn’t be watching before grabbing onto his arm to stop him. This could be a terrible, horrible idea, but that thought didn’t seem to over power your want.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to face you where you leaned against the brick wall.

“You know I had every intention of waking up tomorrow either horribly hungover, or in someone else’s bed, and considering you prevented the latter..” You trailed off looking up at him.

“Are you serious?” He asked after a few seconds of silence.

“I’ve been holding out, hoping for something to change with him. I’m done waiting around.” You admitted weakly.

“I don’t want to just be some outlet to make Adam jealous.” He shook his head.

“This isn’t about him. This is about me and what I want. For once.” You laid a hand against his neck.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He whispered stepping closer to lay a hand against the cold brick, body just inches away from yours.

“Jay, I am going home with someone tonight, and I really hope it’s you.” You bargained. You hadn’t done this in months, and you were just ready to let all the pent up need out. Jay searched your face for hesitation before leaning in to capture your lips. You quickly responded, hands wrapping around his neck to pull his body against yours. Letting him take control of the kiss when his fingers moved to tightly grasp your jaw. Tongue slipping into your mouth in time with the movement. You hummed when he nipped at your lip pulling away to take heavy breaths.

“My place?” He whispered lips almost up against yours again. Nodding quickly you reached into his coat pocket fishing out the keys to unlock the vehicle. Chuckling he took them from you opening the passenger door to help you in before walking to the drivers side and starting the truck. You could see him looking at you from the corner of his eye as you chewed on your bottom lip appreciating his features lit up from the street lights. He turned to wink at you before putting the truck into drive and heading towards his apartment.

The silence was tense and a little bit awkward as you started to second guess your forwardness. You weren’t just using him to get back at Adam, right? You were a grown woman and you had needs. Needs that hadn’t been met in far too long, and the person that was going to satisfy them just so happened to be your co-worker from the same unit. That’s all. It was all coincidence. Plus Jay was hot. Everyone knew that. Why couldn’t you enjoy that fact when the opportunity presented itself? “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Jay asked jarring you out of your thoughts.

“Nothing. I just..I don’t know. Kinda embarrassed.” You admitted shrugging.

“Why?” He questioned grabbing a hold of your hand.

“I could’ve approached that better instead of acting like a horny teenager.” You laughed looking down.

“I would be lying if I wasn’t hoping you’d say something though.” He looked over at you grinning.

“What?” You looked at him confused.

“I mean you’re obviously beautiful and I thought we had a great night together, but I didn’t want to overstep bounds or make it awkward. I was just hoping you picked up the same vibe I was catching. I’m not the greatest at saying what I want.” He chuckled. Shaking your head you looked down smiling to yourself, feeling a little lighter in the knowledge that he wanted you too. Lifting the center console up you scooted closer to him. “Well hello.” He smirked, hand falling onto your thigh.

“I like your beard.” You smiled running your fingers through it. The last time you had seen him with one was when Erin left, and the only time before that was when he had been kidnapped. Remembering the bruises that accompanied the facial hair. Tracing his face where they had healed completely.

“Yeah?” He replied smiling at the gentleness of your hands as you admired his face.

“Yeah, I think you should keep it.” You voiced your opinion.

“Maybe I will.” He squeezed your thigh when you leaned over to lay soft kisses along his neck, nipping at his ear as you moved your palm over the crotch of his jeans. You felt his breath hitch at the movement, letting out a low growl when your lips attached right below his ear, heel of your hand pressing down simultaneously. “Oh god, I can’t wait to get you inside.” Jay whispered, breaths becoming labored at the insistent pressure of your hand. Quickly pulling into the parking garage of his apartment two minutes later. Putting the truck into park he let his eyes fall shut, head falling back onto the rest his hips finally moving up in time with the movement of your palm. The sight before you and the feeling of his obvious arousal already causing moisture to gather between your legs. Giving him a couple more rocks of pressure before slipping your hand up his shirt to rest on his stomach.

“Jay?” You whispered pressing a gentle kiss against his jaw, his facial hair tickling your nose. He turned his head to look at you, pupils already visibly darker than before. “I want you.” You stated. He grinned giving you a quick but hard kiss before shutting his truck off and guiding you towards the elevator. Pushing you against the wall as soon as the doors closed mouth molding over yours, hands bracketing you in against the wall. “Mmm.” You hum when his lips start to trail down your jaw. “Someone could walk in.” You remind him head falling back to give him more access. The dinging as you pass each floor prevalent in the background.

“Don’t care.” He growls lifting one of your legs to rest on his hips, fingers moving up your thigh, starting to move your panties to the side when the elevator comes to a stop on his floor. “I don’t think it’s ever moved that fast before.” He joked letting your leg down and grabbing ahold of your hand to pull you towards his apartment before pulling his keys out to unlock it and ushering you inside. “Do you want anything to drink?” He asked casually as he set his keys down slipping off his shoes, ridding your heels in the process you giggled stepping towards him to take the lapels of his jacket in your hands.

“I’m definitely thirsty but not for water.” You winked pulling him back towards your lips, before you pushed the jacket off his shoulders. Beginning to unbutton his dress shirt his hands moved down to your ass, lips breaking from yours long enough for him to whisper,

“Jump.” You let him pick you up, shedding his shirt on the way towards his bedroom.

“You have too many clothes on.” You sighed when he laid you down on the end of his bed tugging the bottom of his shirt. Laughing he stood up to pull it over his head for you.

“You haven’t taken one piece of clothing off and I’m the one that’s wearing too much?” He teased falling back on top of you.

“Lucky for you, you’ll find there’s next to no obstacles once this comes off.” You snapped the strap of your dress. Jay eyes trailed down your body slowly, hands following as he pulled you up to slide the zipper down slowly, lips falling to your collarbone in the process.

“Tell me if this is okay.” He hesitated sliding the straps down.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You voiced helping him pull the tight dress from your body. Face instantly blushing when you looked up to see his eyes wandering all over you, left in only your panties.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He complimented hands squeezing your hips.

“Your voice is really sexy when you’re turned on.” You blurted out, causing Jay to laugh.

“Well I can assure you I am in fact very turned on right now.” He grinned nuzzling your neck.

“Can I..?” You asked tugging on the button of his pants popping it open when you felt him nod. He breathed a quiet sigh at the pressure being released when you opened his zipper, pushing them to the ground with his help. He returned back on top of you leaning down to press his mouth to yours, moving slowly to appreciate the action. In no hurry for this to end. Your hand trailed from his chest to his stomach, tip of your finger sneaking under the hem of his boxers. His hips involuntarily bucking at the anticipation, coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. Reaching further down you took a hold of him giving him an experimental squeeze earning a groan against your lips. Beginning to slowly move your hand his forehead fell against yours eyes closing while his hips began to move in rhythm. Swiping your thumb across the tip, gathering the precum that had started to leak out. He watched as you brought it to your mouth, licking it off your finger to enjoy the taste of him. Breath hitching at the sight, seemingly flipping a switch in him as he lunged forward capturing your wrists and forcing them above your head, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. Roughly biting at your lip before moving down your body. Stopping first at your chest. His teeth nipped at the skin, laying soft kisses all over before taking ahold of your left breast tongue swirling around your nipple. Other hand pinching and rolling the right between his fingers. Swallowing a moan your legs opened further letting him slide between them more comfortably. His mouth moved farther south as his fingers gently started to make soft circles to your center outside of your underwear. Sighing your hips moved slightly trying to get more pressure as you felt Jay smile against your hip bone. Teasingly his fingers fumbled with the side of your underwear occasionally swiping his finger inside while his mouth bit and sucked the inside of your thighs no doubt leaving a few marks. “Oh, yeah you’re keeping the beard.” Your fingertips dug into his head, goosebumps rising at the rough feeling of his facial hair against your thighs, jaw tightening, not wanting to make a sound.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], are you insinuating we will be doing this again?” He looked up at you, eyebrow raised, cocky smirk on his lips.

“Stop talking.” You ordered, face going a little red.

“If I remember correctly you just said my voice was sexy.” He quipped.

“And if I remember correctly you were in the middle of something.” You pushed his head back down.

“As you wish.” He winked teeth grazing the inside of your thigh as he moved closer and closer to your core. Your legs were starting to shake at the anticipation, your mind picturing your juices covering his mouth and throughout his beard.

“Jay, please.” You actually whined when he laid a kiss on your clit outside of your panties.

“I just wanted to hear you say my name. I can tell you’re trying to hold back, but all I want is to hear you [Y/N]. Helps me figure out the best way to make you feel good.” He admitted hooking his fingers into your panties and slowly sliding them down your legs before tossing them to the floor, “Let me hear you baby. Let me know I’m doing a good job.” He reminded you before his mouth connected to your center, eliciting a moan that you wouldn’t have been able to hold back even if you tried.

“Such a pretty sound, sweetheart.” He commented, before his tongue swirled around your clit, gently sucking it. Head falling back you let yourself give into every sensation. The way his hands pinned your hips down, preventing you from moving. The way his tongue worked you so soft and smooth like he did the research on exactly how your pussy was structured so he could hit every sweet spot imaginable. The way he pushed a finger in slightly curling it up to perfectly hit your g-spot over and over again while his tongue flicked against your clit. The way his stubble burned against your thighs only heightening the realization that this was Jay. Jay Halstead: your co-worker, friend, and apparently now fuck buddy. Your legs started to shake, hips trying their hardest to fight their way out of his grasp, uncontrollable noises flowing from your lips, knot growing tighter with each tap of your sweet spot.

“J-Jay.” You warned, hoping he could hear your voice that was barely there. Your fingers tightening in his hair, the other one moving down to his cheek, thumb rubbing over the roughness.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He encouraged fingers moving faster, tongue licking harder. This was Jay Halstead and he was eating you out like no tomorrow, and with that thought your thighs came up to trap his head, back arching as you screamed out the knot inside of you unraveling hard.

Legs falling back apart you released him and Jay made his way back up your body. Kissing you, taste of yourself covering his mouth. “That was beautiful.” He smirked, cupping your cheek.

“That was incredible, how did you even learn how to do that? It’s like you knew my body better than I do.” You laughed still a little light headed.

“Everyone is different. You just have to pay attention to the signs. For example I already know you’re not going to be able to cum from just penetration. Just like you have a hard time cumming from just oral. You need the best of both worlds. I always knew you were high maintenance.” He joked.

“You already have me all figured out.” You rolled your eyes, but. what he was saying was true. You don’t know how he came to the conclusion, but you weren’t about to complain.

“If you want to stop here I completely understand. We don’t-“ He started to say when you cut him off.

“And deprive myself of discovering whether your dick game is as good as your head? No thank you.” You grinned starting to push his boxers down.

“Well I could never live with myself if I left you wondering.” He shrugged, getting up to push the last remaining piece of clothing between you two to the ground before reaching over to fish a condom out of his nightstand. You took a hold of him again, twisting your hand up and down his shaft to make sure he was fully ready. He ripped the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on with your help. “You’re absolutely sure about this?” He asked again, positioning his dick at your entrance.

“Yes, completely.” You nodded.

“Just tell me if you want to stop at any point.” He reiterated, leaning down the rest of the way to kiss you when he started to push in. Groaning you focused on his tongue slipping into your mouth knowing the pain would subside soon, and a few short thrusts later the pleasure started to seep in.

“Ahh fuck.” You moaned relaxing into him.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled feeling the way you loosened more for him still making small movements, knowing there was no way he would be able to go hard right away, but within a few strokes your pussy started to clench him even harder than before. “Baby, you gotta loosen up for me or I’m not gonna be able to move at all without blowing it.” He groaned biting his lip, hips shuttering.

“I’m sorry you just feel so good.” You cried, it wasn’t your fault. Well not really anyway you had a hard time controlling it.

“Okay okay okay.” You closed your eyes, begging yourself to relax when he hit your g-spot for the first time. “Shit!” You cursed nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Right there. Again. Please.” You informed him, but you knew he was already aware as he hit it again before you were finished talking. He took one of your legs positioning it on his shoulder as he bracketed himself above you. Hitting harder this time, earning a loud moan from you. “Jay, faster. Please baby.” You begged.

“You feel incredible [Y/N]. I’m gonna cum so hard. Jay moaned above you.

“Your dick feels amazing babe. I love that I get to make you cum.” You reciprocated attempting to move with him. His thumb moved down to start rubbing circles on your clit in time with his long thrusts. “I h-hope you think a-ahhh-about this every time you - fuck - see me at w-work this week.” You got out between heavy breaths.

“I’m not going to be able to think about a-anything else baby. How f-fucking good you taste. How much I loved being between your legs e-eating you up. How good your pussy feels s-stretched around my cock. Holy fuck [Y/N] I’m so fucking close. Fuck fuck fuck, [Y/N].” He screamed louder with each word, collapsing onto you as he worked through his high, but you were already gone. Pulsating around his dick the minute he reminded you how good he looked between your thighs. Opening your eyes just in time for you to watch his orgasm and to catch your name falling off his lips with a few curse words.

“Is it true?” You asked after a few minutes of silence, heavily breathing being the only sounds that filled the room.

“Is what true?” He replied confused when he started to pull out of you before carefully disposing of the filled condom.

“You’re going to think all that stuff when you look at me this week?” You explained, causing him to chuckle still breathless.

“Maybe not every time, but I’d confidently wager 80% of the time.” He smirked rolling over to kiss you, “unless you don’t want me to?”

“Well it wouldn’t be fair for me to be thinking about it and not give you permission to as well.” You shrugged, knowing full well this wasn’t disappearing from your mind anytime soon. You got up to use the restroom as Jay cleaned himself the rest of the way.

“Is he bigger than me?” Jay asked, when you walked back into the room.

“I am not answering that question.” You laughed loudly laying back down beside him.

“Why not? It’s for research purposes. You know purely for your benefit.” He smirked down at you.

“Oh yeah? How so?” You urged.

“I just gotta know the level of game I have to bring. Should I be more focused on the motion or does the size make up for it?” He gestured south.

“Motion is always more important than size.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Jay scrunched his eyebrows,“Next time this happens I’ll just use my finger and remind you of what you just said.”

“I said it was more important. I didn’t say it’s not important at all, but I can assure you the level of game you brought tonight is better than I could’ve imagined.” You smiled completely satisfied.

“I totally am.” He decided, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“So what’s the plan here?” You changed the subject.

“I think that all depends on what you want.” Jay answered.

“Well..I’m not going to deny this was fun and you did say I need to have more fun.” You shrugged sheepishly.

“So then we keep having fun.” Jay said simply.

“But we need ground rules.” You laid your chin on his chest looking up at him.

“Okay..” He looked down at you waiting for you to continue.

“Like I don’t know..is this purely friends with benefits? Do we go out for dinner sometimes? Do I bring you coffee in the morning?” You started to list the things running through your head.

“If you want to bring me coffee and dinner, who am I to tell you no?” He joked causing you to sigh.

“Jay, I’m serious.” You pushed.

“Can’t we just kind of roll with it?” He asked, hand rubbing up and down your back.

“I guess I’m just scared of what will happen if they find out.” You admitted.

“So what if they do?” He seemed unfazed.

“You’re not concerned at all how Hailey would react?” You asked.

“I like her. I really do. That’s not a secret, but she’s sleeping with Adam. Why should we have to wait around and agonize over it? You deserve to be just as happy as he does [Y/N].” He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“What if this turns into some fanfiction shit where we end up having feelings for each other?” You giggled.

“Well then I hope the author writes us a happy ending.” He smiled kissing you on the forehead. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired after that performance.” He yawned. You agreed, waiting for him to slide further down into his bed before pulling you back into his side, your head falling back down on his chest.

“Promise me you’re not going to freak out in the morning.” He whispered kissing the top of your head after a few minutes of silence.

“I promise.” You replied kissing his chest before letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Waking up the next morning you felt the heat before your eyes even opened. Quickly registering that you were laying on someone. Slowly opening your eyes you looked around the semi dark room, black out curtains trying to reduce the amount of light peeking through. You knew who it was, but you had to confirm it. Gently sitting up you were met with Jay’s figure still sleeping beside you. Oh shit. You started to panic, memories of the night before suddenly flooding your mind. Remembering the things you did, the things you said. Eyes darting around the room you started to contemplate an escape. You’d sneak out and pretend like this never happened. That’s probably what Jay would want you to do anyway and-

“Lay back down and stop freaking out.” Jay grumbled beside you, eyes still closed. You reached for the sheet to cover your still bare body.

“How did you even-“ You began to ask causing Jay to smirk.

“I’m a detective for a reason, [Y/L/N]. Come back to sleep.” He urged pulling you back into his chest.

“It’s probably just a better idea if I leave.” You sat back up causing him to sigh heavily.

“You promised me you weren’t going to freak out.” Jay reminded you.

“I’m not freaking out.” You tried to defend, voice squeaking a little.

“Then stop biting your lip.” He challenged. Stopping your actions you looked over to still see his eyes closed.

“Okay seriously how the hell-“ You started

“I know you better than you think.” He opened his eyes to look up at you, dark circles obvious under them reminding you of late the two of you were up last night a blush covering your cheeks at the thought. “What’s going on, what are you thinking about at 6:30 in the morning?” He asked, looking at you like you were crazy after seeing the time on his alarm clock.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged looking away from him.

“C’mon talk to me.” He pushed sitting up to face you where you clung tight to the sheet that was also still covering him up to his hips.

“I just said a lot of stuff last night that’s kinda embarrassing looking back on it now.” You admitted remembering distinctly how you encouraged him to fuck you.

“Like?” He urged making you groan.

“I am not answering that.” You shook your head looking around the room for any piece of clothing.

“I can’t think of a single thing that didn’t sound incredible coming out of your mouth.” He shrugged just as you found a shirt slipping it on before realizing it was his.

“It’s probably just a good idea for me to leave.” You sighed contemplating what to do.

“We’ve gotten like 3 hours of sleep. Please lay back down.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Jay.” You sighed running a hand down your face.

“Just come back to bed and let me cook you breakfast later. Then if you want to leave you can.” He bargained, voice still raspy from lack of sleep. Your mind was all over the place. You did want to be here, and last night was great and you’d be lying if you said you weren��t hoping for a morning encore. That’s what friends with benefits were for right? But how would this end? You just didn’t want to get hurt again somehow, but maybe that was just something you had to risk.

“Only if you make French toast.” You reasoned making him grin.

“That can be arranged.” He lifted his arms to pull you back to his chest.

“Your voice is sexy in the morning too.” You whispered after a few minutes, hoping he was asleep already.

“I think it’s a little worn out from all the sounds you had me making last night.” He retorted making you giggle.

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