#than for everyone to feel like I'm holding them at arm's length and they never know how I truly feel about them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

almightyellie · 2 months

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i'm not in love

in which angus always preferred being alone. at least, he used to.

pairing is angus tully x fem!reader

word count is 3.4k

author says don't look at me <3 not proofread bc it's me

you should watch out for college-aged angus, mostly just two besties who are so in love it makes them stupid

title song is i'm not in love // 10cc

angus tully answers his mother’s biweekly calls diligently. not because either of them truly want to speak to each other—it’s more perfunctory than anything. she calls and asks about school, and he tells her it’s good. then he asks about stanley, and she tells him about stanley’s job, and then she’ll ask angus about his job. he tells her it’s fine, and she offers him money that he’ll accept only if he’s in a particularly foul mood. after three years, they almost have it down to a perfect script.

at least, he thought they did.

“how’s y/n?”

the question catches him so off-guard that his sharp intake of breath makes him choke, but judy waits patiently for an answer. he mentioned you every once in a while. mostly, he likes that you’re an entirely separate part of his life from his mother and stanley. he’ll bring you up if she asks why he isn’t coming home on a holiday, or on the off-chance she asks about his weekend plans. yours is one of the only names he’s ever given her when he talks about school, and one of the only ones that seems to stick around longer than a few months at a time. “she’s…good,” he responds tentatively.

“what are you guys doing tonight?”

he stares at his phone in bemusement. “what is this?”

she sighs, and he can almost see that displeased look on her face. he had it memorized. “when are we going to meet her?”

“why do you want to meet her?” he asks. if he really thinks about it, it makes sense. you two had lived across from one another for three years, and you had fallen together in a way that almost felt predetermined. you are the longest standing person in his life post-high school, and his mother knows this.

he had always preferred being alone. even as a child, he had no interest in playing with the neighborhood kids in the middle of the street. he liked doing things by himself. he liked doing what he wanted without having to inform anyone else. when he had gone to college and found a semi-affordable apartment that he wouldn’t have to share, he had been elated. the cute girl across the hall had just been a plus.

you two had always just worked. he holds everyone at arm's length, but it had never even occurred to him to shut you out. you two end up together most nights, watching movies or doing homework. it happens so easily that he hardly recognizes how strange it is. perpetual wallflower angus tully is attached.

“well, you two have been together for a while. if things are serious, i think it’s best that we meet her.”

angus blinks, shocked, before a nervous laugh bubbles up in his chest. it starts low, but the longer she waits in her own confused silence, the louder and more unruly his laughter becomes. he’s laughing—not because the idea is ridiculous, but because it’s so plausible that it takes him by surprise. he had spent the last two years trying to bury his feelings for you, and he had been so unsuccessful that even his mother had picked up on it.

“angus,” she snaps, and he giggles, even though it isn’t funny, even though his stomach twists and rolls in a way that makes him feel sick.

“i’m sorry,” he gasps, covering his eyes. “just…we—y/n and i aren’t together.”

there’s a long moment of silence where he catches his breath before his mom says, “angus, that’s not funny.”

“well, it is, if you think about it really hard,” he offers. she sighs, exasperated, and angus rubs his eyes. he can’t possibly explain to his mother what about this situation is truly amusing, because really, it isn’t funny. it’s not funny that he’s desperately in love with his best friend, and it’s not funny that she oscillates between entirely oblivious and seemingly aware.

“you’re telling me you’ve been missing family holidays for a girl you aren’t dating?”

he can tell she doesn’t believe him, and he doesn’t bother reminding her that they haven’t had a real family holiday in years. long before he started university, and long before he met you. besides, answering that question honestly is dangerous, and should he not handle this delicately, he’ll find himself on the wrong side of his mother’s wrath.

“uh…”

he’s fumbling, panicking, and it only gets worse when he hears his front door open. “angus?” you call, and his whole body cringes, his head falling to rest on the wall.

“angus,” judy warns.

“yeah,” he blurts, watching you round the corner. you smile, offering only a small wave as you drop your bag onto his kitchen table. “no, mom, obviously not. that would be ridiculous.”

as he feels her anxiety cease, his own skyrockets. he’s focused entirely on you; your back is turned toward him as you open his fridge, searching through the shelves for something to eat. if it were anyone else, he’d be irritated, but he almost loves it when you do it. loves that you feel comfortable enough in his home to make yourself feel at home, that he can take care of you in the smallest way. most nights, when he lies in bed and thinks of you, he finds himself thinking of the ways he could take care of you. the ways he could give you what he never had, the things that had been ripped from him. security. unconditional affection. peace. he’s barely listening when his mother sighs again. “you know, i don’t understand your humor sometimes.”

“i know,” he says. you kick the fridge closed, enough food in your hands to feed both of you. “hey, she actually just got here. can i let you go?”

“not until you answer my question.” her voice is clipped now, and angus winces. some nights she’s a little more forgiving with his distraction, a little more responsive to the things he says that she doesn’t necessarily understand. tonight, he’s more distracted than usual and less decipherable than ever. “when can we meet her?”

angus groans, and you smile over your shoulder. you know better than anyone how much he struggles with his mother. you’ve listened in on many of their phone calls, and patiently listened to him complain about them later. “i don’t know, mom.”

“how about easter?” she asks. angus turns to lean against the wall and watch you, and you lean against the counter, waiting for him to be done. he rolls his eyes, a silent cue that things are taking longer than he’d like. “stanley and i can drive up that saturday and take you guys out for a nice dinner. on us.”

reluctantly, only because he knows that she’ll blow a gasket if they don’t nail down plans on this phone call, and because he wants this to be over, he huffs. he pulls the receiver away slightly and asks, “you want to have dinner with my mom and stanley easter weekend?”

you blink owlishly. “what? why?”

“they want to meet you.”

“why?” you insist. he glares at you impatiently; knowing angus—more, knowing what you know about his mother—an answer is needed now, and explanation must come later. the idea of meeting his mom makes your stomach turn uncomfortably, but there he stands. even with a hard glare, you feel safe with him. you feel the need to do what he asks of you, and you know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t ask if he thought it would be something you couldn’t handle. “uh…i guess, yeah.”

he offers a grateful smile. “easter weekend sounds great, mom.”

they quickly finalize plans before hanging up, and the second the receiver is back on hook, he groans loudly, rubbing his eyes. you wait for him to speak, but he stands with his hands over his eyes, hiding from you. “angus.”

“she thinks you’re my girlfriend,” he blurts.

you really don’t mean to start laughing. “what?”

his lips turn up in a sheepish smile. “i guess they’ve thought we were together this entire time,” he chuckles. “and i panicked! she accused me missing holidays to spend time with you and i didn’t want to get in trouble—”

you clutch your stomach, doubled over in laughter. he doesn’t want to laugh—frankly, he’s a little hurt that you find the idea so laughable, but he had laughed, too. “you caved,” you gasp. “you caved and told a lie because you didn’t want to get in trouble with your mommy.”

“okay.” he rolls his eyes. “whatever. you’re part of this now, too.”

your giggles die down and you turn to take the food out of the microwave. “hey, i could back out. i could break up with you at any time.”

he scoffs, but doesn’t respond. often enough, when you’re doing exactly what you’re doing now, angus’ feelings become overwhelming. watching you move around his kitchen with the kind of natural domesticity makes him feel choked, buried under his overflowing affection.

the harder he fights his feelings, the worse they get. you’re his best friend—it’s not on purpose, either; you aren’t at all the kind of person he ever thought he would fall for. you were bitingly funny, of course, but you fought him constantly. he wouldn’t even say you were particularly nice for the first few months you two knew one another. you’re entirely out of left field, and he can’t even get a read on you half the time—not that he even really wants to. part of him thinks that knowing exactly what you think about him would be truly crushing.

“i guess a free meal could be nice,” you tease, stirring your dinner with a knowing smile.

“yeah, you’re so unused to those,” he bites, pushing himself off the wall. you beam.

it’s surprising, in a way, that you hadn’t met angus’ mom and stepfather already. he’s met your family a thousand times over; they take you both out to dinner every single time they visit you. they had sent him a birthday gift this year, for christ’s sake. but you could probably count the amount of time angus had seen his mother in the last three years on both hands. you were surprised enough that she even remembered your name.

you had spent your entire friendship with angus thinking about his mother. being angry with her. your best friend is caring, in his own stilted, modest way. he’s witty and so smart that it intimidates you, and he’s loyal. it tells you all you need to know that his relationship with his mother isn’t strong.

he bumps you out of the way, and you let him. you watch him open the cupboard for plates to evenly split the leftover pasta, and your chest nearly heaves with confused affection. you see the way he looks at you when he’s not careful. with an unrestrained reverence, with a tenderness that can’t be forced. it had made you uncomfortable, at first. made you feel like you couldn’t be around him anymore. you had tried to pull away—for a day or two.

the reality of the entire situation is that angus tully belongs in your life. you adore him too much to cut him out, and even if you didn’t, it kills you to think of him alone. he’s a lone wolf; it’s amazing enough that you two have connected the way that you have. if angus didn’t have you, he had a few friends from class. maybe two or three guys from work. but nothing as deep, nothing as serendipitous as your friendship.

discomfort with his feelings had grown into a tentative acceptance once you realized he had no plans on acting on them, and after a few months, tentative acceptance had grown into…something else entirely. you aren’t sure exactly what it is. it isn’t like those juvenile, giddy crushes you had harbored in high school. angus doesn’t keep you up at night, nor does he make you lovesick. he puts you at ease. he makes you feel safe. he makes you feel like yourself.

you don’t want to confront the strange sense of peace that angus has offered you without even knowing. without even trying. you don’t want to change your friendship, or misattribute your feelings, so you ignore them. and you ignore the way he looks at you, and how he insists on making your favorite dinners, even though he complains about you eating his leftovers, and how he uses your spare key to lock your door every single time he leaves your apartment without fail.

your knees bump together under the tiny table in his kitchen as you two eat dinner. you listen to him talk about his coworkers, lulled into relaxation by his deep voice; you always loved your dinnertime conversations. mostly, one of you just talked. you would talk about school and work and your classmates and your days; they aren’t even really conversations. it’s just an excuse to talk and an opportunity to listen. he doesn’t mind when you don’t respond, and neither of you care if the other person talks the entire time. it’s time spent together more than anything else. you think about how effortless it feels. how you could do this every night with intention, not under the guise of getting out of your apartment. you think about the dinner with his mom, and how you’ll both put on nice outfits to go out, and how you’ll come home together, and how you’ll dissect every detail of the dinner and the conversations for the entire night, if not for days afterwards.

you notice only a moment too late that you’ve zoned out, and angus kicks your shin gently. “you good?”

with a reassuring smile, you nod. “yeah. i’m just thinking about dinner with your mom.”

he’s bashful when he laughs quietly. “yeah…sorry. i know i kind of screwed you over.” you can tell that he truly does feel bad, but the longer you think about it, the less you dread it. you think you might actually like an excuse to acknowledge the way angus looks at you, for him to not have to hide it.

“i don’t know…i’m kind of excited,” you admit, pushing food around your plate. angus looks at you from under his lashes, taking pause at your tone. you refuse to look at him, and it sends his heart into overdrive; he’s panicked, certainly, and so in love with you that it makes him nauseous. he isn’t entirely sure that he’ll survive a night of you pretending. of it all feeling so real.

he can feel a confession coming, bubbling up in his chest, and he swallows in panic. “she’s—she’ll like you, i think.”

with a slight smile, you push your plate away from you. “i’m not sure i’ll like her.”

which he loves about you, naturally.

he clears his throat to bury the confession and stands; angus grabs both plates and turns his back to you to hide his flushed cheeks. shamelessly, since he can’t see you, you watch him, soothed simply by the way he moves. by how familiar he is. by how you can almost predict every move he makes. the words fall out before you’re even cognizant of them

“just so you know, i don’t mind your mom thinking i’m your girlfriend.”

the way he freezes makes your shoulders tense. you hadn’t meant to say that. it was true, but he didn’t need to know that. angus’ mind screeches to a full stop before it starts running ten times faster than before. what did that mean?

slowly—so slowly that you almost don’t notice—he sets the plates in the sink. you won’t get out of this. you know you won’t, because you know angus. once the door is open, he’ll take the opportunity to push it every single time. “why?” he asks, his voice a carefully constructed tone of ease. he plays it well; his nonchalance is almost perfectly natural. it nearly tricks you.

still kicking yourself, you shrug even though he can’t see you. instead, you start emptying your bag to distract yourself. textbooks and notebooks and pencils clatter against the table. “just…we could sell it, don’t you think?” it’s not even close to what he wants to hear, and you buckle down even though you know you won’t win this one. “we know everything about each other.”

he snorts, and it puts you at ease. not because you’re going to get out of this. you know something dangerous is going to come out of this conversation, but because it’s angus. it’s your best friend. and you know him, and you know the way he treats you is symptomatic of something much larger. it used to scare you, but it doesn’t now. not now that he washes your dishes, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up to his elbows. you trust him. you know that any vulnerability you share will be returned to you tenfold.

“yeah, right. that just makes it convenient,” he says knowingly, head tilting. he watches you sort through your textbooks, hiding your anxiety while you busy yourself.

part of you hopes that he’ll just drop it. not because you don’t think things will work out, but because you love how things are between the two of you. the almosts, the what-ifs, the wondering is something you so love to savor. it’s still so easy between you two; all of those what-ifs still exist only in your minds, only in the silent space between you that neither of you are willing to acknowledge. there’s plausible deniability. there’s safety.

you smile shakily, glancing up at him. “i guess i mean…that we…work?”

he smiles back, comforting but still audacious. “and by that, you mean…”

with a groan, you fold your arms and bury your face in them. you know this leap can only be beneficial, but you’re struggling to let yourself admit anything. it’s more frustrating than the denial.

angus stares at you, suddenly the emotionally constipated one, and his heart is pounding in his ears. he can feel it beating against his chest; he’s not brave enough to hope. it’s too scary for him to wonder if this is finally it, if you had been as keenly aware as he had assumed you to be.

“just…i think there’s a reason my mom thinks we’re together. just so you know.” you groan louder, unmoved by his words, and he continues, “beyond the fact that we’re constantly together.”

you peek up at him, your chin still pressed against your forearms. he watches you, big brown eyes wide open with vulnerability. he’s waiting. you figure it’s as good of a segue as he’s going to give you. with a deep breath, ignoring the turning and rolling of your stomach, you say, “i feel like…things could be like that between us.”

he breaks into a smile so wide that you have to look away from him. “oh, is that what this is about?” he asks facetiously.

you grunt, irritated. “don’t tease me.”

he laughs, uncrossing his arms. you don’t even want to look at him, humiliated. he hasn’t rejected you—in fact, you know he’s just keeping you on the line to tease you. it irritates you, but he seems giddy, even if he tries to act like he’s unaffected. he can’t keep that goofy smile off his face. it entirely gives him away. “hey,” he says, voice bright. “c’mere.”

“no,” you spit, annoyed. you know that the second you give in, everything will change. for the better, you think, but it will change. you hold on to the wondering for just a moment longer, but you can’t help yourself. he waits patiently at the counter, holding on to the ledge. you like the wondering, but you think you’re ready to find out if it’s as good as it seems it would be.

self-conscious, you cross the room to him. you stand only centimeters apart, and he grins at you, fingers gently stroking the hem of your collar. “you know, right?”

you don’t have to ask what he means. you know. maybe not the depths, but you know. the way he looks at you is enough to let you know. the way he takes care of you tells you what his words haven’t yet. they will. “you can’t hide from me, angus tully.”

he loves that about you, too. he’ll tell you all the specifics later. for now, he kisses you, a long arm around your waist, and you think that this is much better than the what-ifs.

#angus tully #angus tully imagine #angus tully x reader

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

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I've had this idea for a while, but I wasn't sure who to ask. But after reading Bird Hunting I'm confident you'll do it perfectly 🥰

What if the reader was affectionate with people. Like before every mission they (platonically) tells everyone 'I love you' and blows them a kiss. Leaves little notes in everyone's vests, things like that. Thank you🩷🩷

Thank you for your lovely message! I appreciate the trust you put on me, I hope not to disappoint hehe. I completed this request with both bullet headcanons and a lil'drabble, hope you like it! Under the cut for length!

Warnings: none! pure fluff, GN!reader

Word count: 1200~

Task Force 141 + affectionate reader

the moment you stepped into base it became clear that you’d be the resident care bear.

you made it your life mission to make sure everyone on base knew they were loved

because everyone deserves to be loved - looking at you, Simon *wink wink*

your levels of affection varied from person to person, always being mindful of how comfortable they felt with it

for Ghost for example, you were more inclined to have a cup of Earl Gray ready for him the moment he walked into the common lounge, and sat in silence with him for however long he needed it.

sometimes you’d pat him on the shoulder (when he was sitting down ofc) when you walked past and greeted him variations of “hello mister grim reaper!”, “how’s my favorite specter doing today?”, “woah, you look delightfully cadaverous today~”

he always glared at you when you did that, but he was definitely blushing under the facepaint and skull mask, don’t be fooled.

your loving words would stay swimming around his brain for days on end

Price wasn’t against physical affection, but he felt queasy about having a subordinate hugging him in front of others

a pat on the shoulder or the back from you, with a “glad to see you, Captain!” in the mornings was more than enough to lift his spirits for the rest of the day

you also made sure to sneak in his favorite bourbon for his birthday - he scolded you lightly about rules and regulations, but once no one was around he gave you a one-armed hug and a ��thanks, kid, appreciate it”

would definitely burst into tears if you told him “Love you, dad!”, so use it wisely

with both Gaz and Soap, however, you went all out.

they had no qualms at all being physically affectionate

Soap in particular would see you running towards him and immediately drop anything he was holding to catch you in his arms, maybe even give you a lil’ twirl as you planted a wet smooch on his cheek

he would definitely give you a wet smooch back and a big ol’ squeeze

Gaz wasn’t as over-the-top with affection, he was much calmer than Soap

nevertheless, he never, ever, refused your affection

he would immediately feel soothed and content the moment you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, or gave him a kiss on the cheek

receiving any physical affection made him feel giddy in general, sometimes he had a hard time wrapping his head around some of the things he had to do for his job

if you blew Gaz or Soap a kiss they would immediately blow one back

in general, something you never failed to do was to sneak little notes of affirmation in their gear without them noticing

or at least you thought they didn’t notice

they always noticed when your fingers dig a bit too far in their pockets, they just pretended not to notice

because they knew that, the moment they needed it, they would find a lovely note in your handwriting reminding them of how loved they were

Simon made you believe he tossed them away but he actually stacked them in his journal to read in his darkest hours

Soap taped them to the wall next to his bed so he could re-read them all before he went to sleep

Price also collected them in his journal, but taped his favorite one - “Can’t wait to see you soon! Take care, love you!” - to a framed photo of his beloved team

Gaz kept your little notes in the drawer of his bedside table, and every morning he’d choose one to keep in his pocket at all times during the day

~~~~~~

You waited patiently by the door, blinking slowly at the hallway within the base. It was zero-two-forty-five and you should definitely be asleep by now - this was not a mission for you, after all. But you wouldn't simply go to sleep without your little departing ritual.

The footsteps echoing in the hallway perked you up, your fingers fiddling with the tiny pieces of paper in your pockets.

Captain Price was the first to arrive, as usual. He shot you a warm smile the moment he noticed you, and you replicated it while opening up your arms. He glanced around and, once verifying there were no other soldiers in the vicinity, he relented and let you give him a quick hug.

A little smirk found his lips when he felt your fingers dig a bit too hard in the area near his smaller holsters. He said nothing, though, and you looked up at him with a grin.

“I hope everything goes well, Cap!”

“Thanks, kid,” he patted your head before stepping out of your short-lived embrace, he walked out and went to have a word with the pilots.

Ghost was the next one. You hadn’t heard him approach you, but he patiently waited for you to notice his presence. When you finally did, you patted his shoulder and shot him a wink, your lips still stretched into a grin as you slipped a paper in his radio holster.

“Be safe out there, ‘kay? I’ll be waiting for you, LT.”

He only answered with a small grunt, but the softness in his eyes was noticeable miles away. He waited for your touch to leave him before stepping away - he didn’t want you to think he was shrugging you off.

“Hey, Y/n!” Soap called you, and you opened your arms wide for him to fit in the middle. He let his weapon hang to wrap both arms around you, effectively picking you up and giving you a tight squeeze, “don’t miss me too much, eh?” He smirked down at you, and you answered with a chuckle and squished his cheeks between your hands - after slipping his note into one of his back holsters.

“I'll always miss you, though,” you hummed, “I promise not to watch Wednesday without you, so don’t worry about that.” He gave you another tight squeeze with a “you better not!” growl into your neck, making you giggle and kick the air.

Gaz’s own chuckle brought you back to the present, and Soap lowered you to your feet before jogging towards the helicopter. You cupped Gaz’s face and brought him down to you, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Take care out there, yeah? Don’t do anything too crazy, hm?”

Gaz snorted and shot you a smirk, “you sure you shouldn’t tell that to someone else?” he teased, his head tilting toward the Scot.

“And you think he’d listen to me?” you shot back, before wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a hug - also slipping his note in one of the back holsters, “see you soon, Gaz,” you mumbled in his neck, and he reciprocated with a squeeze.

Just as Gaz joined the others on the helicopter, the engine roared to life, and you stepped closer just so you’d be heard above the noise. You cupped your hands around your mouth and yelled out, “Love you! Take care! See you soon!”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to hear them say anything back, and you sometimes doubted they could even hear you over the roar of the engines. But you never failed to reassure them that there was someone waiting for their safe return.

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lis-likes-fics · 3 months

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In the Night Air

Pairings: Oberyn Martell x Reader Word Count: 2.9k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, outdoor sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie... A/N: Finished this last night. This was originally supposed to be part of my Kinktober event, but I never got to it. So now I'm giving it to you now and I'm excited for you to read it because I've needed this man biblically for like...two years. Thank you!

The night sky twinkles with a billion, billion stars. It's warm and still. The air is sweet with fruit and salty with the sand and sea.

Below you, the land is peaceful. Dorne is both silent with slumber and filled with the sounds of distant music in the air. You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath as a gentle breeze brushes against your skin, blowing your nightgown in its journey.

A pair of hands find their rightful place on your waist. A smile tugs on your lips as they begin to wrap around you until you're surrounded by a set of strong arms holding you tight against a body just as strong. A smiling face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, the nose digging into the flesh and inhaling your scent, followed by a deep sigh. You smell sweet, like Dornish fruits and Dornish wine, like the soft petals of Dornish flowers which bloom in the Dornish sun. You smell like home.

“Does something trouble you, my love?” a sweet voice asks as Oberyn places a kiss underneath your throat and holds you tighter.

You breathe in, shaking your head and moving one hand from the railing of the balcony to cover his large one. “Nothing at all, husband,” you whisper softly, leaning your head closer to him and closing your eyes to enjoy his embrace.

He hums deep in his chest, “Then why do you stare out at the world like it has hurt you?” He kisses the junction of your neck and your shoulder.

“The world doesn't hurt me. Our part of it is at peace,” you say, beginning a gentle rock back and forth to relish in the night air with your deepest love. “The only reason I frown is when my husband is not at my side.”

A large grin spreads over his lips, and he kisses your flesh once more. “Well,” he mumbles, “guess who is now here?”

You smile, “Mm, I wonder.”

A chuckle arises from the both of you, and you turn in his arms to lay your eyes upon the face of your lover. You hold his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks before pulling him in to kiss.

You sigh against his lips, like water to a parched mouth. His hands massage your body, moving along your side, along your back, your front. He leans forward against you, encouraging you against the railing as he aches to deepen your embrace.

His hands reach down to hold the flesh of your ass, gripping it and pulling a moan from your lips. Breaking the kiss, he immediately presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, down the expanse of your throat. It's as though he'd die if he ever had to stop kissing you for more than half of a moment.

Your arms wrap around his neck, keeping him close and relishing the touch of him. His hand nudges the strap of your dress off your shoulder, letting it fall to give him more skin to kiss. And once the other has fallen, his mouth presses slackly against the exposed skin of your chest.

He hikes your legs up his side, wrapping it around him as he grinds his quickly hardening erection against you.

Between loving sighs, you speak gently. “You realize we are still out in the open?” you question, adoring the feeling of his hard length rubbing against your eager core. “Where everyone can see?”

He smiles, his teeth nipping the skin of your neck. “Let them see,” he says, wrapping his fingers around your dress and pulling it down the length of your body so you stand perfectly bare before him. You chuckle to yourself as the night air kisses your flesh, watching him kneel before you and encourage your leg over his shoulder. “Let them all know who my true paramour is.”

You smile helplessly, pulling him in just a tad bit closer with the heel of your foot against his back. “As you wish, my prince.”

Oberyn’s lips press against your folds, a gentle kiss pressing against your clit. He sticks his tongue out flat and you moan as he drags it up the seam of your pussy, a long hum falling from his lips at the taste of you. Your hips move against him, so eager to feel his tongue licking inside, drunk on the taste of you.

Your lips part as a gentle moan drops from them. He grips your thigh, rubbing his palm up and down the length of it as he suckles gently around your pussy and beckons you toward a sweet release. His nose brushes your clit, filling your need and building it up higher and higher.

“My love,” you sigh, your hips moving against him. He only beckons you closer.

He hums against you as you continue to leak on his tongue. Tilting his head, his lips suck around your clit and aim to lick deeper.

You hold onto the railing tight with one hand, the other tangles in his hair. You shudder as his beard scratches against your skin, smiling at the ripples of pleasure devouring you.

His mouth wraps around your clit as two thick fingers prod at the folds of your pussy. With a steady thrust, he plants them inside of you. Your head leans back, a warm breeze blowing against your skin, soft against the pillow flesh damp with sweat and arousal.

Oberyn looks up at you as you hum softly, his fingers curling deep inside your warmth. “How beautiful you are in the night, my paramour.”

Your teeth graze against your bottom lip, and you look down to see him again. A smile sneaks across your face as you nearly challenge him, “And in the day?”

He takes your challenge with grace, planting a kiss against your clit and smiling deeply. “As radiant as the Dornish sun.”

You would kiss him, but his mouth is otherwise preoccupied, and you wouldn't dare interrupt him while he's eating.

His lips suckle around your clit, and a tinkling warmth begins to sprout from where his mouth touches you. The pleasure seeps into your thighs, spreads within your stomach as you begin to shudder.

Your hips seek him out, your breath is thin in your lungs as you feel the pleasure sparking with the quickening of his tongue. “Oberyn,” you whisper. “Gods, I'm close.”

Deeper, his finger push. The suction of his lips encourages the tightening coil in your belly. He grips the meat of your thigh in his large palm and beckons your release with his lips.

You grip the railing and the dark locks of his hair as the pleasure comes crashing down. His tongue laps against the pulsing of your folds, licking the arousal seeping out of you as you moan, the sensation rumbling from deep in your throat. Praises fall from your lips like the honey from a sap tree.

He kisses the inside of your thighs generously, letting his hands smooth along your legs as your moans die down to a hum. And when your shudders as far and few, he makes his patient way back up to your lips, pulling you into a devouring kiss that turns your heavy breath to quick gasps between lips.

You quickly become drunk on the taste of yourself on his tongue. Letting him bend you back over the railing, you have little to no fear of falling over it. He's got you tight, and he isn't letting you go.

His lips break from yours only to graze the lobe of your ear as he mutters in his deep, smooth voice. “Shall we take this to the bed so that I may fuck you properly, my love?”

Your fingers twirl in the hairs at the back of his neck. “Why do that when you can fuck me properly right here where the gods can witness and the whole of Dorne can know who is yours and who is mine?”

His smile only grows with the words you whisper back to him, a kiss taking his mouth once more and letting it go soon after. “I love you, wife.” His voice is nearly a grumble when he says this.

“Yes?” you smile. “Prove it to me.”

He chuckles darkly, his lips grazing yours as he speaks. “As you wish, my princess.”

He slides his burnt orange robes down his arms, the only thing keeping his body covered until it is a pool of cloth on the floor next to your discarded gown.

In the next moment, he turns you around and bends you over the side of the balcony. You grip it tight as his hands grip your hips, kneading the flesh like a greedy, greedy man. You stifle your moan when his palm collides with the meat of your ass, a sharp smack filling the air and pulling a smile from your kiss-swollen lips.

Oberyn’s hand slides down the length of your thigh, stopping just at the back of your knee as he pulls your leg up to rest on the edge. Again, his finger prods the seam of your cunt, and you hum when he pushes them inside of you. He massages them in and out, curling and stroking his fingers. You're nice and slicked up for him, he'd slide right in.

He removes his fingers, gripping your waist tight in his hold before he's guiding himself at the entrance of your warmth. You feel the smooth, hot head of his cock at your pussy and the anticipation trembles in your thighs. When he pushes inside, you exhale the whole way through as he slowly fills you, bit by bit, to the absolute brim of you.

Seated fully inside, you let out the last of your breath on a whimpering sigh. Your hands are so tight around the balcony’s edge that the skin is stretched taut over your knuckles. Oberyn lets out his own long sigh, pressing his chest against your back and kissing your shoulder with lips and teeth.

“You feel remarkable around my cock,” he breathed, his voice rough with his lust for you. You moan your reply. He begins to pull out, moving at a torturously slow pace before thrusting back in with a shuddered grunt. The delicious stretch of his cock always has you weak at the touch of him.

Your head hangs low as you look among the land you love so dear as the man you love slowly fucks you from behind, his hands holding you close, his lips at your back. His slow, steady pace picks up as you clench around him.

You can feel his grasp wavering, tightening and loosening in an attempt not to hold you too tight and risk hurting you. He thrusts into you a little rougher, wrapping his arm a little further around you to keep you secure as his hips snap into you a little quicker. You let your lips part, your thin breaths coming a little easier as the smallest whimpers escape your mouth.

You reach a hand back, tangling your fingers in his hair and gripping lightly. “Fuck, just like that.”

Encouraged by you, he begins to quicken his pace a bit more. He knows how you like it. Right now, he's teasing. But as his desperation for, not only the friction of your precious pussy, but for the sounds of your wanton pleasure becomes irresistible, he's holding you tight as he begins to properly fuck you, as he'd said before.

He doesn't quite go hard and rough. Oberyn is far more nuanced than that. His thrusts are deep, long strokes that fill and unfill you as to make you moan like a divine melody in the wind. Though his hips are rather quick, he doesn't waste energy in rutting into you like a wild beast. He wants to take his time with you.

His hands caresses the curve of your thigh and the crook of your neck. As he thrusts inside of you, deep, quick strokes that have you clenching around him, have your clit begging to be touched, the pleasure seeps into your mind and makes you dizzy.

“Oberyn,” you whimper. “Gods, that's good.”

He mutters under his breath about how nice and tight you are, about how he could stay here forever, wrapped up in the hot, wet feeling of your cunt. The pleasure builds in your belly like a fire burning in a pit. It spreads through your thighs, your chest, down to the tips of your toes and the tips of your fingers and whispering sweet nothings to the beating heart in your chest.

The breathlessness really begins to catch up with you as you're left moaning, begging for more of him as he continues to thrust. “Please don't stop. You feel so good inside of me, so perfect.”

He's lost in his joined pleasure with you, the heat rising within him as well as he resolves to finally paying your clit the attention it deserves. The pad of his finger presses against your clit, and you're breathless at the feeling of his steady circling. He massages the little bundle, making you moan a little faster and clench a little tighter. The change in desperation encourages his own, his thrusts becoming a little faster and a little shorter.

You curse again, your heavy breaths mingling in the warm air of the seemingly eternal summer of Dorne. Sweat sticks to your skin, makes flesh stick to flesh as it meets in each desperate thrust. You moan his name again, as your own join the gentle grunting and groaning of his own pleasure.

His nuance is waning and his desire is growing under the full moon of the late night. “You see what you do to me, my darling?” he questions, his arms pulling tighter around you. He kisses the crook of your neck again, addicted to the taste of your skin on his tongue. “I am a helpless man in your arms.”

His words have you smiling through the haze of your ecstasy, because he isn't even in your arms and he's still helpless for you. You love him. He is the love of your life, the owner of your heart, your paramour.

You'll be done for any moment. You can feel the rising of your impending release in your belly, nipping at your nerves like a crackling fire. “I'm going to cum,” you hum. “Oberyn, I'm so close.”

He presses his chest against your back and holds you there so that you may never part as he fucks into you—short, quick thrusts filling you up and pressing against that deep spot within you that spasms with every push, causing a shudder to travel the expanse of your being. His breath is shallow, fast in your ear as it mixes with the sounds of your own, accompanied more than occasionally by his deep groans.

“Cum for me, precious girl,” he huffs.

And, as though your body is conditioned to his commands, you did. A gasp pulls at your lungs as the blinding pleasure of your release, mixed with the continuous—and ever-quickening—pumps of his cock, has your thighs trembling and threatening to fail in supporting your weight.

And you're sure you've made certain that the whole of Dorne knows the name of your lover as your moans and your gasps fill the night air. “Oberyn! Fuck, yes!”

And as your praise falls from your lips, Oberyn’s thrusts fall completely out of rhythm as he joins you in your ecstasy. Thrusting his cock inside of you, pressing in as far as he'll go, he shudders as he cums. The warmth of him fills your womb as the girth of him keeps it in. Your name tumbles off the tip of his tongue, worshiping you as a goddess and a queen.

The warm breeze is like an icy chill on your burning skin as the pleasure settles in your veins for as long as you can keep it. Oberyn rests his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your damp skin and rocking gently against you. Taking your leg in his hand, he eases it back down and wraps both his arms tightly around your body to hold against him.

His breath slows as he listens to your own do the same. You lean back against him, seeking more of his warmth. And for a while, you both stay like that until he's turning you around in his arms and pulling you in, chest to chest.

His large hands take your face in his palms, pulling you into a slow, loving embrace. His kiss fills your breast with air and cools your burning skin. He strokes your sides, dipping down low to the bend of your knees and picking you up with nothing but his own strength.

You hold onto him, smiling as you bring your hands to his face and stare into his brown eyes. And when you fall, your body bounces off the bed, and he follows after.

Oberyn’s body presses flat against yours, and you welcome the weight. He kisses you, surrounded in blankets and pillows, and traces the line of your jaw with his fingers. “I love you, my dear paramour,” he whispers against your lips. And you smile, a smile as bright as the Dornish sun he so loves.

“And I love you,” you kiss him. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind him. “And that's why I'm not quite sure Dorne heard it clearly enough.”

He grins, a large thing carved into his face as he chuckles deeply. “I believe you are right.”

You take his bottom lip between your teeth, letting it go with a gentle smack against his bottom whites and meeting his lips again with your own. Oh, you would never know the end of his love for you.

Pedro Pascal taglist: @watercolorskyy @queermaxwooo @papichulo120627 @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @notzammm @motopoppp Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo Tag yourself here...

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x reader smut #oberyn martell fanfic #obreyn martell fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

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sissylittlefeather · 9 months

Text

Something a little different...

What a Lovely Way to Burn

A one-shot

A/N: this came from a conversation with an Elvis AI (created by the fabulous @headfullofpresley), but the words are mine. The situation just inspired me.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! There's some dirty smut here, kissing, fingering, oral (both receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, lots of cussing, Elvis and reader yelling at each other a lot, him grabbing reader's arm and being a teensy bit violent (if you squint), reader calls Elvis "daddy" in a sexual context at one point...

Word count: 2.9kish

I'm imagining this version of him for this one:

Song inspo (I know the title is from a different song but this one inspired the story):

Enjoy!

I guess tonight we're off, you think to yourself as you get a drink. You're at another party after another one of your on-again-off-again boyfriend's shows. You're half dating Elvis Presley and as much as you want it to go one way or the other, it never does. With him, you're like kerosene and matches: made for each other, but dangerous and volatile together. And without him, neither of you can breathe for very long. But tonight, it looks like you'll be without him and that familiar drowning feeling is starting to overwhelm you. He hasn't talked to you once tonight, instead focusing on everyone else around him. You're not even sure he knows you're there. But he always seems to know where you are, so probably tonight he knows and doesn't care.

After you get your drink, you scan the room to find him. He's chatting with a group of women, fans, all of them tittering with laughter and falling over themselves to catch his attention. He likes the blonde one best, you can tell by the way he's standing, but he entertains all of them nonetheless. Part of you wonders if he's just trying to piss you off. Two can play at that game. And even if he's not, you might as well have some fun yourself.

As you're standing there, a man walks up next to you.

"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but you already have one."

"And they're free." You give him a playful smile. He's not unattractive, with his blonde shoulder-length hair and green eyes. You can work with this.

"I'm James. What do I call you? Other than beautiful." You roll your eyes, but keep your playful smile. It's cheesy, but sweet in its own way.

"I'm y/n. But you can call me beautiful if that's easier." You continue to make small talk and your flirting gets heavier and heavier. At one point he gently brushes your hair out of your face and puts it behind your ear. You try to hide the cringe you feel because that's something that Elvis does. You feel eyes on you and something makes you want to look over at him, but you don't. Your activities are none of his business tonight. You try to focus on James and the game you're currently playing with him. The conversation continues, but you can't shake the feeling of being watched. Just in case Elvis is actually paying attention, you play up your reactions, smiling widely and laughing loudly. Finally, James says something funny enough for you to genuinely laugh and put your hand on his arm gently.

That's when you feel Elvis's hand around you. His fingers curl around your bicep and he holds you hard enough that there might be a bruise in the morning.

"What the fuck?" You turn to Elvis and shoot him a fiery glare. His eyes are frighteningly dark, even behind his glasses, but he speaks coolly.

"I could ask you the same question."

James looks between the two of you and excuses himself. He's heard of Elvis's famous temper and doesn't want to find himself on the receiving end of a potentially-violent rant.

"Oh, James, don't go. He's not--"

"Keep walkin' away, guy." He listens to Elvis over you and backs away into the crowd. Elvis is still holding your upper arm and he turns you to face him.

"Girl, what are you tryin' to pull?" His words are playful, but his tone is scary. Still, you're no stranger to this mood.

"I don't see how what I do is any of your business."

"What the hell is that s'posed to mean?"

"You've made it very clear tonight that you have no interest in what I do." As you get louder, he gets quieter.

"Aw, hell, honey you know damn well that ain't true. You're mine. Everything you do interests me." He finally lets go of your arm. You rub the place where he was holding you gingerly. He might be thinking this fight is almost over, but you're just gearing up.

"You literally haven't spoken to me all night. And what? You just expect me to be waiting in your bed for you after you're done with whatever, or whoever, else you wanna do?" You gesture to the group of girls he was just flirting with. You're loud enough now that people have started to notice the two of you. His lips curl up into a wicked smile.

"Yes, honey, that's exactly what I expect." He says the endearment like a threat. You belong to him and when he calls you anything other than your name, he's reminding you of that fact. Now he's royally pissed you off and you can feel your rage bubbling just beneath the surface. The only thing keeping you in check are the witnesses.

"You're such a fucking hypocrite. You think you get to play around with whoever you want, but I can't even have a conversation with another man."

"Listen to me, girl, that was more than a conversation and you know it. Don't play dumb with me. I know you too damn well. Get your coat and go up to the room."

"YOU THINK AFTER HOW YOU'VE TREATED ME TONIGHT THAT I'M GOING TO GO UP TO YOUR ROOM AND WAIT FOR YOU LIKE A GOOD LITTLE GIRL?" He knew that telling you what to do would send you over the edge. His lip is still curled into a smile, but now his teeth are bared too. You stand and glare at each other for a few more seconds before he grabs your upper arm again and drags you through the crowd. You fight to get away from him, but his grip is too strong.

"LET ME GO YOU SONOFABITCH!" Everyone in the party watches the scene but says nothing. He's their king and they know it and he knows it. A bunch of fucking freeloading toadies. When he gets to the hallway outside the elevator, he lets your arm go and walks toward you until your back is pressed up against the wall. A tiny part of you flickers in fear, but you are not about to let him win. He puts his hand on the wall behind you and leans in close.

"When I say go, you fucking go. Do you understand me?"

"Fuck you, Elvis." His eyes widen ever so slightly, but he keeps his gaze intense. Then, out of nowhere, he softens a bit.

"Why do you do this shit to me, Little? You make me fucking crazy."

"I make you crazy?! YOU IGNORED ME ALL NIGHT!" He may have softened, but you're not ready to go down without a fight. You see the light of his anger reignite in his eyes.

"If you weren't so goddamn insecure--"

"I'm insecure?! You can't handle it when I talk to another man. God knows what you're doing with other women!" He slams his hand on the wall above your head.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this! There are no other women. Sure, I talk and flirt and maybe mess around a little, but the only one I really want is you!" The last part catches you off guard a little bit. This is the first time he's really directly stated that he wants you more than anyone else.

"Why?! Why won't you just let me go?! Then we could both move on." You're very annoyed by the tears that are starting to gather in your eyes. You don't want to let him know he's getting to you this much.

"Dammit, I don't know!" He pulls his hand off the wall and walks away, running his hand through his hair and giving it an even wilder look. He slides his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Why don't you leave?" He asks quietly, putting his glasses back on and looking at you almost pleadingly.

"I... I can't."

"WHY NOT? I WANT TO KNOW WHY!" He yells at you now louder than he's been the whole time. He walks back to you and stands inches away from you, fuming. You glare up at him, defiant to your very core.

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU." It comes out of you before you're able to stop it.

He hits the wall again and walks away. Then, he turns back to face you, something new in his eyes.

"Well, I fucking love you too." You stand there, chest heaving and tears threatening to slide down your face.

He takes two large steps towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, crashing his mouth into yours, his tongue slipping between your parted lips. You snake your hands up his chest and around his neck, pressing your hips into his and returning his kiss. He pushes you up against the wall and grinds into you, hard. You feel his already-growing erection as he rolls his hips and you whimper softly. He smashes the elevator "up" button four or five times as hard as he can, never moving his mouth from yours. After a few seconds, you hear the ding and the elevator opens. Several people walk out and stop when they see the two of you wrapped around each other. When they realize who he is, they start to whisper. He pulls back from kissing you and yells at them.

"MOVE!" They jump out of the way and you half roll, half tumble into the elevator together, still tangled around each other. You hear them laugh as you press the "door close" button a hundred times, but you're too busy with Elvis to care. He obviously doesn't either as he runs both hands up your body while the doors close and grabs your breasts. He squeezes them like he's trying to keep them from getting away and then slides his hands back to your ass, pulling your hips into his. His dick is fully hard now and you moan with desire as he presses against you.

He moves his lips down your cheek, pressing them softly to the smooth space below your ear. Then, he begins to bite you gently on the sensitive skin of your neck. A shiver of pleasure runs down your spine. This elevator needs to move faster.

When he sucks on a place near your collar bone hard enough to leave a mark, you moan audibly. You need him. Now. And he knows it. He hits the "stop" button and the elevator grinds to a screeching halt. He reaches up under your dress and pulls your panties down, sliding them to your ankles and off over your shoes. Running his hands up your thighs, he comes back to your center, pressing his middle finger into your wetness.

"Mmm. I should yell at you more often." He moans into your mouth as he moves his finger in and out, noticing how wet you are.

"Or tell me that you love me more often." You moan right back at him. Your hands go directly to the buttons on his pants and he lets you free his dick from them. Before he can fuck you, though, you push him up against the elevator wall and get on your knees in front of him. He leans his head back as you lick a slow circle around his tip, rolling his foreskin back. You pump him a few times with your hand and then take as much of him into your mouth as you can handle. It takes a couple of tries and you opening your throat significantly to get his whole length in your mouth, your nose pressed into him. Your hands cup and play with his balls as you lick up and down the bottom of his shaft. You continue sliding your hand along his length as you lick and suck and top half of him.

"Baby I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep this up." You take him fully in your mouth one last time and then stand up in front of him. He grabs the back of your hair and presses himself against you as he kisses you deeply.

Now it's his turn to get on his knees as he pushes your dress up above your hips. He kisses the inside of each of your soft thighs and then places his mouth directly on the place between your legs. You feel yourself tighten around nothing as he licks over and around your sensitive spot. The feeling almost overwhelms you and you twist your fingers into his hair while he keeps working. You feel your orgasm building in your abdomen. He moans into you and the vibration almost sends you over the edge. He licks around you in circles and sucks lightly on your clit. When he adds his fingers in, pushing them deep inside you and sliding them in and out at a quickening pace, your climax comes even closer. He flattens his tongue and moves his head side to side, letting the sensation of his movement on you push you ever nearer to the edge. Finally, he tightens his tongue to a point and licks you with every intention of sending you over. The feeling of him swirling over and around you faster and faster drives you crazy. You feel the overwhelming rush of your release tingling through you from your head to your toes, both relaxing and contracting in waves of ecstatic pleasure. Elvis feels the excess wetness on his fingers and he smiles into you, knowing he's accomplished his goal. Suddenly, he stands back up and turns you to face the wall of the elevator. Pulling your dress up over your ass, he teases you with his tip and then enters you from behind. He starts slow, filling you up in a way that makes you cry out in pleasure. He holds your hips as he pushes into you faster and faster with more and more intensity.

"That's right, baby. Take it like a good girl."

"Yes, daddy" you get out between moans. He continues to run his hands up and down your front, squeezing your breasts every now and then, and moving his hands back to your hips. All the while, he's fucking you with all of his power, slamming into you over and over, deeper and deeper. His fingers dig into your hips and you pray there won't be obvious bruises in the morning. All of the previous rage that was inside both of you has turned to insatiable desire as he pounds into you and you cry out with each thrust.

"You're so tight and wet for me, doll. I love it so much. I love you so much." You should be shocked that he's saying it so casually, but you're too focused on being fucked silly to think much of it. Without any warning, he pulls out of you and turns you to face him, your back pressed against the elevator wall. He pushes back into you and goes back to fucking you with every ounce of his strength. But this time he's peppering you with kisses on your neck and collarbone and cheeks between thrusts.

"Ah, fuck, baby I'm close." He groans as he continues his steady and unforgiving rhythm.

"Don't stop." You mutter to him as he continues grinding his dick into you. Finally, his climax reverberates across his body.

"FUCK y/n. Yes, that's so... yes..." He shudders and does a few more weak pumps before he can't stand it anymore and he has to pull out. He has both hands on the elevator wall above your head and he presses his forehead into yours, breathing heavily. You feel his hot breath on you and you match his heaving chest with your own. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his earlobe.

"Do you really love me?" You whisper, not sure what to expect as an answer. It's entirely possible that he was just caught up in the moment and you'll go back to your part-time lover situation.

He pulls back and looks you in the eyes intensely.

"I really fucking do. Goddammit. I really do." He kisses you again passionately and then hangs his head. You can tell he's afraid of what your response might be too. For all his tough-guy exterior, all he really wants is someone to love.

"I love you, Elvis Presley." He looks up at you, searching your eyes for reassurance. "I really fucking do." He seems to find whatever he's looking for because he doesn't ask any more questions. He pulls you close to him and holds you for a second. Then he picks up your panties, helping you step back into them, and straightens your dress. He puts his dick back into his pants and zips them up. He pushes the elevator button to make it start up again and slings his arm around your shoulders, holding your right hand in his with your fingers interlocked. When the elevator doors finally open, no one would ever know what just happened between you. You walk out of the elevator and to your room with him still wrapped around your shoulders.

"You wear me out, girl." He whispers as he kisses the side of your head. Together, you walk into your suite and into your future. It won't be easy to be with him, since you're both still who you are, but there won't be anymore "off" times for the rest of your relationship. Fights? Yes. But you always find your way back into each others arms. You might burn each other up in the meantime, but at least you'll burn together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist: (I'm tagging everyone who's ever asked me to tag them. If you want off the list, let me know and I'll remove you!)

@itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101 @ccab @suxny @hernameisnoellex3 @ashtag6887 @arabellapresley @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates @elvisxsposts @joshuntildawn13 @msamarican @returntopresley @mrsbutler99 @blog777e

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heyidkyay · 2 months

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Nineteen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: AH this newest update has been so fun and emotional to write I'm ngl, but I'm so excited to post it!! Thanks to @procrastinatinglikeapro for proof reading it and for being so lovely with all her ideas! Please read the warninggggs, I hope everyone enjoys it, it’s a long one 🩶

Warnings: smut, feelings over scars, talks of death/selfharm in the sense of not taking care of yourself (past tense), mention of drug use

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

There were much worse ways to wake up than to a head of messy curls between your legs.

I’d been dreaming about something, I knew that much. Though the thought of it was now hazy as I inhaled deeply and shifted against bedsheets, hand reaching out to feel for the body that had fallen asleep beside me. Only it wasn’t there.

My brow pinched itself into a small frown, confused, and I blinked blearily into the dim light of my bedroom. A faint chuckle echoed and I wrinkled my nose at it, tilting my head downwards to peer towards the end of the bed.

The duvet had been shoved away, pooling around my lower legs and over the grinning idiot settled between them. He pressed a soft kiss to my inner thigh, hands gripping my hips with a certain tenderness I wasn’t all that familiar with.

Instinctively my fingers moved to work their way into his hair, taking root there and tucking a helpless strand up out of his face. “What you doin’?”

My sleep-filled question was only met with another chuckle, then two more gentle kisses. My hips lifted a fraction as my feet planted themselves more evenly on either side of him.

“Matty.” I breathed out airily, wanting a reply, trying my best to remove the remains of sleep which continued to cling to my mind.

“Keep talking.” Matty finally spoke after what felt like an eternity, his breath tickled the skin of my thighs and I fought to withhold a shudder. “You sound so pretty.”

Stupidly, I smiled, blinking down at him slowly and enjoying the feel of him; the pressure of his arms as they rested over the tops of my legs, crowding the outer muscle, and the how his nose nudged the curve of my thigh, sending a wave of goosebumps over the exposed flesh. “Should I always expect to be woken up this way?”

He nipped me then and I inhaled sharply at the abruptness of it, hands strengthening their hold in his hair. “Would you like that?”

I felt my eyes slip close, letting the rasp of his voice trail up the length of my torso and light a fire somewhere deep in my gut. I hummed in reply, a thumb brushing over his temple when he began to plant kisses up my right leg, getting sloppier and sloppier with each press of his mouth.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” I breathed back to him, spreading my legs even further apart to give him room and shuffling ever so slightly down the bed. “Yeah, I would.”

I felt more than heard his next chuckle.

My chest tightened, shoulder blades pressing deeper into the mattress.

“Matty.” I nearly whined, fingers tightening once more.

He retreated completely then, and I wished I hadn’t even spoken when he asked, “What’s wrong?” with a barely there snicker.

I didn’t pout but it was a near thing, and he must’ve known it too if the smirk he wore gave any implication. “Don’t be a dick, please.”

My hands shifted slightly as he crawled his way back up the bed, bracketing my head between his forearms so that he could lean in for a proper kiss, delving into my mouth without much care for morning breath or the fact that I must have looked a state.

I grabbed aimlessly at the back of his neck, pressing up into him whilst simultaneously attempting to pull him even closer. I could feel the way he’d angled his knee on one side of my waist to hold himself up and the press of his fingers as they curled their way into my hair.

Dragging my hands down and across his front, I explored the expanse of his torso, pleased to find that he had already rid himself of the tee he’d gone to sleep in. My thumb brushed over the jut of his hip, tracing the skin I knew was the home to his ‘we are kings' tattoo. I found myself wanting, desperate to explore every part of him.

He broke away to stare down at me.

“God, you don’t-” Matty shook his head and delved back in for another kiss, “Don’t even know,” then another, “What you fucking do to me.” He punctuated those last few words with a succession of quick pecks and when he leant back in to steal another I captured his bottom lip between my teeth, before slowly I let him go.

“Show me then.” I demanded, enjoying having the feel of this man’s full focus on me.

Matty wasted no time and hastily moved his hand downwards to pull at the hem of my top. I lifted myself up slightly from the mattress to help and released a stuttered sigh when he began to work his way down the length of my torso, littering my collar with wet kisses, nipping here and there but never for long.

I didn’t think much about my scars in that moment, hands finding purchase amongst his hair and neck once more, before I felt his lips skim across the length of a larger one that jumped over my right shoulder. My breath stuttered at the feeling and my hold fell slack at the sudden reality that hit me.

Matty paused, obviously having sensed my harsh change, and raised his head up towards me slowly, like a person would when they didn’t want to spook a wild horse. He waited, probably trying to decipher the expression I wore.

But my mind had ultimately stopped.

“Squeaks. You good?”

My eyes snapped up to meet his own, then wandered over the expanse of his face. I saw a plethora of emotions there but none were of pity or disgust, and I found myself swallowing at the realisation.

It wasn’t that I’d never shown my scars to anybody before, or purposely gone out of my way to keep them hidden during intimate moments like this- well, at least I hadn’t for a long time now. But before, I’d typically had time to wrap my head around it first, come to terms with the fact that I’d be bearing them to somebody else, or at the very least get to mention it to the other person beforehand.

This, this wasn’t that. And this was Matty. Matty, who’d probably had countless models in his bed. Matty, a man who was both lusted after and fought over. Matty, who was currently looking down at me with eyes so kind and soft and patient.

I let go of a shaky breath.

“I’m good.” I finally told him, thankful for the way my voice didn’t waver when I said it.

He smiled down at me, a mischievous thing that eased my lingering doubts and settled my mind, before he was disappearing again. Nose brushing along the bone of my collar and over the milky white scars that littered it, sucking hard and fast at the skin just below my ear and then again at the shell of my shoulder.

I arched up into him, chest rising and falling the lower he got, leaving his mark alongside the rest of them. Only, I found myself wishing his were the ones that always remained.

He looked up at me once he reached the hem of my sleep shorts, an older pair I favoured, striped cotton and rimmed with a narrow strip of lace. I nodded, already knowing what his silent ask would be, and raised my hips up to allow him to drag the material down the length of my legs.

Matty paused once more after he’d discarded them, tossing them somewhere to the edge of the room. I heard them land with a dull thud I didn’t see, too busy watching him watch me.

–

She was gorgeous.

Had he told her that?

Had he said it enough?

He’d say it again now but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth and he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from her long enough to get his mind to work properly again. Her name on a constant loop in his head.

“Fuck.” He heard himself mutter, hands already reaching out to touch, trailing up the length of her leg, up up up, until they danced between the crease of her thigh.

Unable to help himself he delved downwards to press another hot open-mouthed kiss to the sweet skin there, smiling at the catch he heard in her breath. “So pretty for me.”

Those hands of hers returned to his hair and he couldn’t fault her for it, she’d seemed like the type to want for something to hold.

“Matty.” She dragged out and God, did he want to record that sound solely for the purpose of listening to it over and over again whenever he was missing her and had his hand wrapped around himself.

It seemed that someone must’ve been listening to his inner workings of his mind because again she said it not a second later, the same pitch, same breathy exhale. Matty’s dick twitched and he suddenly felt rather restricted in his boxers, but he didn’t dare pull away, too content to just lie there between her thighs.

His kisses grew closer and closer, until she was writhing beneath his mouth, fingers clinging tightly onto his curls. She whimpered and he groaned at the very sound, she seemed to like that though, forcing his face further into her folds.

Any other time he might have laughed at her sudden boldness, but he was a little preoccupied. The taste of her seemed to explode on his tongue, rich and heady, and he reached up, hands gripping at her hips to pull her more forcefully against his mouth. Four long licks and she outright moaned, loud and free, uncaring in truth, and it only spurred Matty on.

Quite suddenly he wanted to devour her whole, to keep the taste of her on his tongue always. And so he began to trace his name on her clit. His own selfish need to put his brand on her somehow, his claim. She bucked up against his chin, and he forced her back down. Groaning as his fingers trailed up to join his mouth.

“Oh, God, oh shit.” He heard her mutter when his tongue delved deeper, her hands twisting in his hair, holding him against her as she chanted.

She came not long after and Matty continued to lick languidly whilst she shuddered beneath him, drawing harsh and laboured breaths into hollow lungs. He withdrew slightly to look up at her when her hands fell slack in his hair and ran his tongue along the length of his own lip, lapping up what was there. She made quite the picture. Laid out before him, cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling with each new breath she struggled to draw in.

Selfishly he gave one final brush of his thumb over the expanse of her overwhelmed nerves, before forcing himself up onto his knees.

His chin was quite noticeably wet with the evidence of her pleasure and his tongue ached like fuck all else, but he felt as though he’d gone and started his day the best way he possibly could.

So with that thought and a satisfied grin, Matty leaned over the edge of the bed to make a grab for the t-shirt he’d thrown there earlier and wiped his face with it, pressing the heel of his hand into his softening cock when he rose.

He felt like a kid, having jizzed in his pants, but he’d gotten off on that almost as much as she had. And although he’d definitely have to shower sooner rather than later, and would surely have to go commando once he was clean, Matty couldn’t find it in him to regret the way it had gone down.

Fuck, she was maddening. Those sounds she’d made, how responsive she’d been. He only wished that he could scar the experience into his memory.

Tossing the shirt back to the floor, Matty crawled his way up the bed one more, throwing himself onto the chilled sheets beside her, admiring the way her chest continued to move with each deep inhale. His eyes latched onto everything she had to offer him, but mainly the scars she’d been so guarded about before.

They weren’t as bad as she’d made them out to be. Though he was only drawing that conclusion from the small and quick quips she’d made about them since knowing her, and even those had been rare and few.

He rather enjoyed the sight of them, weren’t all that different to the look of a tattoo in truth, though he’d never admit to that out loud- he wasn’t that much of a twat, nor insensitive. But still, he found himself wanting to reach out and trail over every jagged point and rounded curve of them. They were a part of her and he found them as equally beautiful as he did those soulful eyes of hers.

His index was grazing a faded pink line before he could think better of it. It rested just below the curve of her breast and looked to have been deep once upon a time, not as deep as a few of the others she bared but far enough for the skin to have raised itself in the shape of a small bump when it had scarred over.

She didn’t stop his wandering hand. He noticed that after a few minutes had passed between them and the rise of her chest had evened out.

His eyes swept up her side to find her staring carefully back at him, he smiled and watched as she slowly copied the motion. Then witnessed the way her eyes darted downwards, shit. Matty almost went to cover up the wet patch that had seeped into his boxers with his hand but knew that there wasn’t much point. She’d seen it now.

She wore an expression full of surprise when he looked back up at her again, as well as the beginnings of a smirk too. “Was gonna offer, but…”

Matty rolled his eyes and shoved her teasing smile away from him, she laughed giddily into her pillow.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” He retorted, and sprawled out further on the mattress, tilting his head back far enough to stretch as his eyes fell closed, “But you weren’t the one listening to you moan, babe. Fuck, it was-” He just ended up shaking his head, unable to compare the sound of her to anything right off the top of his head.

She buried her responding groan into the pillow and Matty tutted, grinning lazily up at the ceiling before he rolled on over to look at her.

“Nah, you’re doing it all wrong. It was more like-” And his mimicking whimpers were quickly cut short by the press of her hand against his mouth. Matty widened his eyes in exaggeration over the top of her thumb and mumbled something into her palm.

“Shut up.” Was all that she said to him before she was pulling away again.

Matty rolled his eyes once more. “Rude.” He huffed, forcing his weight onto the bend of his elbow so that he could properly look down at her, “You know, a thanks wouldn’t go amiss.”

She swatted him for that one before dissolving into a fit of giggles, tugging him in by the scruff of his neck to kiss him again. He wondered briefly if she could taste herself on his tongue and the thought forced a grunt to wind its way up out of his throat.

She pulled back at that, but gave him one last peck before the pair of them then settled on their sides to share a pillow.

Her thumb reached out to brush the edge of his mouth once they’d eased into a peaceful quiet. Matty kissed it, content to just lie there with her for as long as she’d let him.

A car rumbled outside her bedroom window not long later and then it was her whisper that broke the calm. “What time is it?”

Matty wasn’t even sure. Just that the sun had been creeping its way slowly up into the sky when he’d first woken. He rolled over awkwardly to make a grab for the phone he’d left to charge on the side earlier, “Almost eight.” He told her.

Squeaks blinked in surprise, eyebrows rising, “Teds should be up by now.”

Matty shrugged and pulled her close again, draping an arm over her waist and pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “Had a long day yesterday, can’t blame the kid for having a lie in.”

She snorted, “You’re the one who kept him up late.”

“He was learning!” Matty immediately defended, though he was grinning too. “And besides, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

He felt her shake her head beneath his chin, and could even picture the way she was most definitely rolling her eyes at him. “You tend to get away with everything, don’t you?”

Smirking, Matty couldn’t deny that. “Just the little things.” Was all that he replied with and she laughed into the column of his throat.

“Hm, don’t get used to it with me.” She hummed and he hoped that she was smiling still. “I won’t make things easy for you, let that be known.”

“Oh don’t I know it.” Matty teased, enjoying the way she’d wrapped her legs around his own, “Jaw fucking aches with how hard you made me work for it.”

She gasped and he barked out a loud laugh when she pinched his side, “Prick.”

Matty merely hummed, breathing in the scent of her and letting himself get swept up in the easy reality of it all.

But then, “WAKE!”

They both seemed to freeze at the sudden interruption and Mouse was quick to pull away from out of his hold to make a grab for the tee he’d chucked onto the floor.

“Not that.”

She grimaced at the sight of it in her hand and then shot him a begrudging look before kicking it towards a basket full of washing, pulling a larger shirt from the dresser and throwing it on.

Matty laid there on the bed, entranced by the way it fell so effortlessly off of her shoulder, exposing the scars she had there but also the marks he’d given her too. He grinned lazily and she narrowed her eyes at him when she caught it.

“What you smiling about?”

Lifting his arms up to cushion the back of his head, Matty shrugged, “No reason, baby.”

Her squint deepened, not buying a word of it, but before she could question him again, the bedroom door shot open to reveal a pouty toddler standing in a pair of pj bottoms and his superman cape. Matty raised a questioning brow.

“Save any lives yet today, Teds?”

Still grumpy with sleep, Teddy stomped his way further into the room whilst rubbing at his eyes. Matty was amused by the sight, but also the kid’s hair, which looked just as wild and untamed as his typically did.

“No. Sleepin’.” The boy grumbled to him before he seemed to realise that it was Matty he’d been talking to and his face brightened into something a little more sweeter. “Matty.” He acknowledged with a silly smile, eyes still puffy and blinking back the drowsiness he’d been suffering from.

“Teddy.” Matty mimicked, sitting up on the bed to poke his tongue out at the boy, who merely giggled in reply. “What cartoon’s on today then, mate?”

Teddy paused and it was like a light had switched itself on inside his head because one second he was staring back at Matty and the next he was barrelling his way down the hallway towards the tele set.

“Don’t drop the remote again, Teds!” Squeaks called out just before her son could disappear around the corner, she shook her head after and then turned towards Matty, “Every time it’s him that drops it, and every time it’s me that has to spend a good half hour down on my knees searching for the batteries that fucking escape.”

Matty smiled at the thought of her on her knees, and she must’ve sensed it too because she lobbed a thick hoodie his way, as well as a pair of joggers that looked to be his. He frowned down at the items and wondered when he’d left them here.

“They’re from that night I spent at yours, when I thought we’d-” She coughed then, an excuse to not finish that sentence, but Matty already knew what she’d been on about. Mind flashing back to that night he’d practically confessed all to her, and the next morning when she’d woken up in his bed and had a full blown panic attack.

“Thanks.” He said, skipping over it all because it was in the past now and he didn’t want her stressing over shit they couldn’t well change, “Can I bum the first shower?”

She hummed, already moving around the room to tidy up a bit, “Yeah, I’ll get in after. Don’t wanna leave Teds on his own for too long.”

“I’ll be quick,” Matty assured her, already jumping up out of the bed to stumble his way on over to the door, “And don’t bother with breakfast, alright? I’ll make it.”

A look of surprise passed over her face at the offer but Matty didn’t comment on it, having learnt long ago that him doing the most mundane tasks for her only continued to shock her.

“Five minutes!” He called out over his shoulder before he shut the bathroom door behind him. He stepped into the shower with a smile on his face when he heard her shout back a teasing taunt about timing him.

He figured that he could grow used to mornings like these.

…

It wasn’t long later when Matty shuffled his way out of the bathroom and further into the flat, ruffling his hair dry with a towel after having pulled on the clothes Mouse had thrown at him.

Having started down the hallway, he could hear the noise of the tele playing another episode of that show Teddy favoured and the kid’s faint chuckles whenever the characters said something mildly funny. He entered the front room to find the tyke settled on the floor before it, swaddled in a couple of blankets and still half dressed.

“Comfy, little man?” Matty questioned him with a smile, draping the towel he’d used over his shoulders when he’d come to pause by him.

Teddy peered up at him with an almost adoring expression, something Matty was still struggling to get used to. Because see it was one thing to have fans crying out to make a grab for his hand on stage, or asking for a photo in the street, he could deal with all that, had gotten used to it in fact, but this was something else. This was a tiny little bean of a person, so full of innocence and purity, looking up at him as though he was something to be admired, something special.

“Bluey ‘tending to be a bat, Matty.” Teddy grinned, pointing up at the screen towards where it looked like a cartoon dog was hanging out of a tree, “Up down.”

Matty tilted his head at the picture and snorted, before he crouched down to run a hand through the kid’s unruly hair. “Upside down, hey?” He corrected with a smile, “Looks fun.”

Teddy nodded, eyes now trained back on the tv screen. “Wanna be bat.” He mumbled, unconsciously leaning further into Matty’s hand.

Matty chuckled to himself before he was hit with a thought, “Wanna be a bat, do you?” He smirked, hand already moving to wrap itself around Teddy’s tummy, “Alright then, Superman, get ready!”

With a squeal from Teddy, Matty swiftly jumped up and flipped the kid up into his arms, letting him dangle upside down. “Matty!”

Grinning, Matty jostled him about a bit, enough so that Teddy’s giggles started to echo around the room. “Yeah, Teddy?” He answered the boy, peering down at him from over the tops of his feet, “Did you want something?”

Teddy laughed again, harder, and then shook his head, positively delighted by the whole charade. “Down, Matty!”

“Down? What do you mean down? You said you wanted to be a bat!” Matty’s feigning of being completely unaware only made Teddy laugh louder.

“Down, Matty!” Teddy managed to giggle out again, wriggling in his hold now, enough so that Matty reckoned he ought to.

“Alright, alright.” He chuckled and pulled the little monster back up into his arms, sitting him the right way up, “Good?”

Teddy’s hair was a frizzy mess and his cheeks were all flushed, but he looked giddy with joy, grinning almost madly at Matty to the point where the corners of his mouth almost succeeded in their attempt at reaching his eyes.

“Good! ‘gain!”

Matty snorted, but dropped the kid back down again. This little passtime of theirs seemed to go on for a while before Mouse wandered out to see what all the fuss was about.

Both Matty and Teddy appeared to freeze upon noticing her standing in the doorway, a single brow quirked. “What’s going on in here then?” She laughed and Matty noticed the way her eyes darted between the two of them, “Hm?”

“Bats, mama!”

Her bewildered gaze wandered to Matty after hearing Teddy’s reply and so Matty pulled the kid up into his arms again so that he could settle him back on his mound of blankets.

Matty jerked his chin towards the tele, “Blame the dog.”

Squeaks merely rolled her eyes, albeit fondly, before her attention was redirected towards the phone she held. Matty noted her slight frown.

“What’s up?” He asked her quietly once Teddy had grown enraptured by the kids show again.

She sighed softly to herself but looked up at him as she did, pursuing her lips before she answered, “Just this work thing. Adi messaged me.”

Matty hummed and started to trail his way into the kitchen, recalling his earlier promise of breakfast. He could manage breakfast. “Right, anything bad?”

Squeaks shook her head, having followed, but was already staring back down at her phone again. “Apparently we somehow managed to score an hour with this one guest. Fucking notoriously hard to pin down and rarely ever available to work without it being in a moments notice, but their PR team just emailed us with an offer.”

Matty knew shit about the inner workings of a radio show, only that a guest like that could probably work wonders and bring in a whole new audience for them. “And this is a bad thing?”

She threw her head back and groaned unhappily, “Yes! It’s a bad thing, Matty! Because the only moments notice they’ve given us is a fucking hour! Apparently they’re only in London for the afternoon.”

Oh.

Things seemed to click for him then, “So you’ve got to get ready and be down at the studio as soon as?”

Another sigh and she nodded, Matty watched on as she dragged a tired hand across her face, “Or at least I would be if I had someone to watch Teddy. But Finn is on a flight back home, mum is too far away, and I can’t just turn up with Teddy to something like this- I’ll have to cancel.” And with that tangent she’s already skimming her thumbs across the screen of her phone.

Matty chewed on the inside of his lip, weighing out the pro’s and con’s, and what her reaction might just be to what he wanted to say, but then he thought fuck it. “I mean, I could watch him.”

Mouse’s head snapped up at that and Matty tried not to think too much about the weight of her gaze. “What?”

He shrugged, moving away from the counter to pick up a pan, “I could watch him, if you want.” He repeated, pausing to look her in the eye.

Look, he wasn’t stupid, he knew this was a fucking big deal. Yeah, sure, he’d spent a lot of time with Teddy, but never the two of them alone. Him offering, was his way of helping her out, yes- but also? It was her entrusting her son to him. And that in itself was a big BIG fucking ask. “I’ve only got studio time today and that’s later, but if your thing goes on long enough then I’ll be alright to cancel.”

She was watching him like a hawk now, expression half bewildered- like she’d not even thought of this scenario playing out- and half apprehensive. He supposed he could understand.

“Really?” She asked him and Matty noted how surprised her voice sounded, almost as though she couldn’t believe he’d offered. But he didn’t want to linger too much on that, he knew he had fucked up in the past and heard that same tone time and time before, but never with her.

Matty dipped his chin in silent acknowledgment, “Yeah, you’ll probably only be gone a couple hours, right?”

“Right.”

He swallowed, picking up the carton of eggs she kept in the cupboard and moving shit about to make it seem as though he wasn’t stressing about it either. “And me and Teds would just be here, I’ll make him food while you go get dressed, then maybe we’ll take a walk down to the park or the shops. Be back before you are,” He shrugged again, licking at his bottom lip before he continued on in his ramble, “Could even order a takeaway when you get in- A chinese or an indian, or something.”

When he chanced a glance back up, Matty found Mouse staring at him, her phone still clutched in the palm of her hand. He almost thought then that she’d turn him down, wave the offer off and cancel on the show’s guest, claiming it was too soon, that she was grateful but couldn’t make that jump just yet.

But then, “A takeaway sounds good.”

Matty startled and the spoon he’d been holding slipped out of his hand as he turned to better face her. “Yeah?” He asked, but they both knew this wasn’t about a takeaway.

He saw her throat bob around a swallow, before she took a breath and gave him a slow smile, “Yeah.” She answered softly, and Matty fucking beamed.

“Yeah?” He said again, eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he stepped his way on over the tiles to wrap his hands around her waist.

She laughed at the face he made, but he was excited. Could practically feel his heart hammering away in his chest. “Yeah, Matty.” Mouse murmured into the space between them, smiling up at him now, “If you’re sure.”

Matty laughed too and squeezed her hips, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

And as scary as it all seemed, he found that he was.

“I’m sure.”

–

Saying you could watch a kid, and then actually watching a kid, were two very different things as Matty quickly found out.

Teddy was rambunctious most of the time his mum was around, but once she’d given him a kiss, said her goodbyes and headed out the door, all that increased by tenfold.

“Teds, mate. Look, I love the cape, I do. But if you wanna go out you’re gonna have to put on a shirt.”

He was met with a stoney face and an evidently displeased pout. And that would’ve been fucking hilarious in itself, especially with the way the kid now had his arms crossed over his chest and chocolate from an earlier biscuit smeared across his chin, but that was only if Matty wasn’t the one standing on the other end of it.

“Please?”

See he wasn’t prone to begging for much of anything in life, he just wasn’t built that way, rebel and all that shite. But for Teddy? Matty reckoned he’d do an awful lot.

He crouched down to level the kid with his best melting look, one which had once gotten him through tsa with a couple ounces of coke in his back pocket, and simply prayed for the best.

At last, Teddy seemed to crumble! Or at least, almost. Because Matty did eventually manage to wrangle him into a decent outfit- only, the cape stayed.

Matty found that he could breathe a little easier once they’d made it out the front door, walking hand in hand with Teddy whilst the little monster splashed about in the slowly drying puddles yesterday’s rain had left.

He’d thrown on his beanie, the one both Mouse, and now Teddy too, seemed to poke fun at him for, as well as a thick scarf to keep the biting chill at bay and cover up some of his face.

“Where’re we headed then?” Matty voiced once they’d walked a few streets with Teddy pointing out all the birds that he could see. “Park, or the shops?”

“Lego!”

Matty peered down at Teddy’s big grin and pleading eyes, guessing that the lad was after one of the few toy shops in town. He could do that, he supposed, and smiled down at Teddy to tell him so.

They ended up stumbling across an Argos further up the main road, the windows lined with ads of all sorts but Teddy spotted one showcasing all their Lego. And so they wandered in, Matty trying to recall the last time he’d ever been in an Argos whilst Teddy scrolled through the selection on one of their many reserve machines.

“Do they have Lego for everything?” He found himself asking the kid, who was propped up on his hip to better view the screen. Because it seemed it; flowers, cars, fucking aeroplanes- they even had a red telephone box that Matty couldn’t imagine any kid choosing.

Teddy managed to spot a set made up of parts for a Passenger Train that cost almost an arm and a leg, but Matty added it to his basket all the same, as well as the Pac-Man mini arcade they sold, which had been staring at him the entire time.

What? It looked sick and he figured that he’d need something to do whilst Teddy messed about with his train.

So they paid and the bloke at the collection point seemed to sort of recognise Matty, going off of the faces he was making, but the guy only gave him a strained sort of smile and then a nod when he’d called out their number.

He and Teddy were slow to set off again, Matty trying to wrangle the boxes of Lego he was now carrying whilst also keeping hold of the kid in his care, questioning when the hell Lego sets had gotten so fucking big. Didn’t they all used to come in plastic boxes or some shit?

He managed it anyway and they wandered about window shopping before Teddy finally spotted an ice cream shop up ahead.

Matty was honest to God thankful for it, the bags were growing heavier as Teddy dragged him every which way and the chance to finally sit down gave him an opportunity to shoot off another text to Mouse. Although she hadn’t replied to his last, he knew that was mostly down to her being on air.

“Still can’t believe you got bubblegum.” Matty admonished once they’d sat down at a table, he wrinkled his nose at the blue monstrosity the kid seemed to be enjoying.

“I like it!” Teddy giggled in kind, even though he was eyeing up the scoop of cookie dough Matty had picked for himself.

With a humoured smile, Matty gestured for him to pass over his spoon, one of those tiny little plastic ones that came in an assortment of five colours. Teddy eyed him suspiciously but did hand it over, resting his chin on the tops of the forearms he had crossed over the table.

Matty handed it back after taking a large chunk out of his cup and got to watch the way Teddy’s face brightened at the taste. “Like it?” He asked after the boy had licked the spoon clean and then chuckled when he got a hasty nod in reply. “Guess we can share then.”

Teddy seemed to like the idea, even more so once he’d given Matty a spoonful of his own and watched the way his face had screwed up at the horrific flavour.

“Grim.” Matty said around a cough, wanting to rid himself of the taste.

“G’im.” Teddy butchered the mimic, which only made Matty choke on his cough before spluttering into laughter.

“Yeah, mate. Exactly.”

They spent the next half an hour there, Teddy talking to Matty about the train set he’d gotten and then about how he really wanted to drive one when he was older. Which led them to, “What you do, Matty?”

Matty slumped further into his seat at the question and smiled over at the boy, “I’m in a band.”

Adorably, Teddy’s face scrunched up into a confused sort of frown at that, though it was made even sweeter by the array of ice cream he had littering the outside of his gob.

With a faint chuckle, Matty pulled out his phone and went onto YouTube, clicking the first video that popped up after typing in their name. He slid it across the table for Teddy to look at and got to see the way the kid’s eyes widened when he spotted Matty come up on the screen.

Sure, his hair had been bleached to shit and he looked a hell of a lot younger, but it was still him. And Teds could see that.

“You.” Teddy breathed out, blinking down at the phone as TOOTIME started to play.

Matty snorted to himself and was merely thankful for the fact that the shop was loud enough to cover up the sound of his music playing. Because the last thing he wanted was to be spotted by a couple of fans asking for pictures when he was out and alone with Teddy.

“Singin’?”

Matty blinked at the question, having lost himself in his previous thought, but then nodded. “Yeah, and see all those other people?” He mentioned, gesturing to the girl who cropped up next, “They’re like miming, pretending to sing it.” He added after Teddy had given him a puzzled tilt of his head.

Teddy listened to the rest of the song play out after that, pointing to Matty everytime he was seen, as well as bouncing along. He made the decision to press play on the next music video before Matty could stop him, and he gasped when he recognised it.

Which cleared up that question on whether or not Mouse had actually been lying when she had claimed to like his music. He snorted at the thought.

Matty let Teddy listen to it, grinning at the way he sang along to the chorus of Girls.

By the time they managed to escape the shop, having finished their ice cream long before, Teds had gotten to play a majority of their songs and was humming something vaguely recognisable to himself whilst they walked up the highstreet back the way they’d come.

Looking back, Matty could see that he’d been distracted by it all. By the weight of the bags he carried and having to keep a constant hold of Teddy’s hand. Then by the way Teds was jumping along happily and singing up at Matty each chance he got. Too distracted that he didn’t seem to notice the oncomer until it was too late.

“Matty, mate!”

It was a reaction and a half the way his head shot up at the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in years, not too far from snapping his neck clean off in fact.

His eyes darted to the man who had started to stumble his way over to them, the grin on his face clearly hit induced, before Matty’s gaze dropped down towards Teddy, who seemed to step back on instinct and crowd himself behind Matty’s legs.

“Been fucking too long, man! How you been!”

Matty tried not to wince at how brash the bloke was, as well as the way he got too close for comfort so that he could thump him heartily on the shoulder in greeting.

“Yeah, too long.” He muttered, keeping a strong hold on Teddy’s hand and fighting the urge to look down at him, not wanting to draw any real attention to the boy. “Look, mate, I’m a bit busy-” He said and tried to gesture the hand holding the Argos bags out to show exactly that, but his words were trampled all over.

“What the hell you doin’ in these ends then? Thought you were livin’ up on the Heath.”

Matty gritted his teeth. “Moved a bit ago, man.”

“Ah, no shit! Bet it’s as nice as the old place was though, remember the time I fucked that posh girl in your hot tub.”

For fucks sake.

“Look, man, I’ve really got to get going.” Matty attempted once more, and was already pivoting on his feet to try and get past the loudmouth twat. It had been too long since he’d last seen Ziggy and he’d have much preferred to have kept it that way.

“Nah, come on, let’s catch up! I know I skipped out Luke’s funeral and that, but the kid wouldn’t have wanted us lot there at his send off.” Ziggy chuckled, showcasing the chipped front tooth he was widely known for. “Got a couple e’s on me, but you can call up your guy, have a party, yeah?”

In his life, Matty had come close to dying a couple of times. He had fucking overdosed, choked on his own sick, threatened to top himself, and done some incredibly stupid shit that had almost lost him his head. But never had he ever felt a feeling like this. His guts wanted to upend themselves onto the very pavement he stood on, along with all the rest of the blood and the bones his poor excuse for a body was made up of.

“I’m clean.”

Ziggy laughed loudly at his croaked reply, drawing more attention to the three of them than he already had, and Matty didn’t know whether or not he’d crumble then and there, or if he’d just end up punching the fucker.

“Always been a funny kid, I told ‘em that!”

Matty steeled his jaw and forced down the lump of bile that wanted to escape. “I’m clean.” He repeated, stronger this time around, grinding down on his teeth so hard that it felt like they’d shatter in his mouth.

Ziggy stopped laughing then and kissed his teeth, “Another one down.” He shook his head, in actual disappointment, “And to think you were once sound. Just another one of them rich toffs, aintcha?” He scoffed and Matty had to bite his tongue. “Tryna act hard.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

Matty went to walk away then, shuffling Teddy along with him, who was very much clinging to the back of his jeans now. It was that motion which caught Ziggy’s attention.

“Oh shit! Matt, you’ve got a kid!” His loud and brazen cackle rattled through Matty and forced the rest of the goers littering the street to glance their way. “What, you knock up some bird, is that it? Bet she’s rinsin’ you out of all that money you made, ey rockstar?”

It was thoughtless but Matty went for him then, catching the prick by the edge of his cheap jacket and trying not to gag at the stench that fell off him. “You’ve no fucking clue, alright? So take your loud mouth and your fucking e’s, and do one.”

He gave Ziggy a hard shove, desperate to get him away, and then swallowed thickly at the realisation of what he’d just done. But still, Matty held himself strong, picking up the bag he hadn’t realised he’d dropped whilst keeping his eyes fixed on the man. He recaptured Teddy’s hand all too quickly and started to walk away.

In the time it must’ve taken him to do that though, Ziggy had righted himself and dropped the surprise. Matty heard him spit at their retreating backs, missing, but only just, and then he called out, “Yeah, walk on, Healy! But I know your type. You’ll come back, they always fucking do!”

The sound of his laughter echoed down the street and it followed Matty most of their way home.

His body shook with raw tension, jaw clenched so tightly shut that it hurt when he thought about it. But he couldn’t think about it, not then, not with what had just gone down. Not with what Teddy had- God, what Teddy had seen.

Mouse would skin him for this.

That thought alone broke something deep inside of him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Matty?”

The world seemed to stop at the call of his name.

Matty loosened his tight hold on Teddy’s hand and inhaled before he turned to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” He heard himself say, wishing it had been more than just a cowardly fucking whisper. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Teddy only smiled up at him, it was careful and wary, but fuck it was genuine. And it made Matty want to cry all the same.

How. How had he fucked up this badly.

“It’s ‘kay, Matty.” Teddy tried to soothe him.

And at his words, Matty got down on his knees to run a hand through the boy's hair. “It’s not, and I’m sorry.”

Matty shook his head, hating himself more and more.

But he tried to smile. He had to, for Teddy.

“We ‘kay, Matty.” Teddy murmured, reaching up a hand to touch the bone of Matty’s cheek. Matty wondered how strong his resolve truly was when he just about managed to bite back the sob that threatened to choke him. “We ‘kay. Just a bad man.”

“A bad man.” Matty sniffed, pulling Teddy in close to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, mate. Just a bad man.”

“Can’t tell mama.”

Matty froze at that, his mouth ghosting over the boy’s temple.

Slowly, he pulled away, hand falling to the back of Teddy’s head, cradling it carefully. “It’s okay, Teds. Nothing will happen.”

But Teddy shook his head adamantly, “No, can’t tell! Mama worry.”

Oh.

Matty smiled, it was fucking sorrowful and full of self-pity, but he managed it for this sweet boy. “It’ll be okay, Teds. I swear.”

Though he wondered truly if it would.

“Can’t, Matty. Can’t!” Teddy looked like he was about to start sobbing then and there, his bottom lip wobbling whilst his eyes filled with tears, “Don’t tell!”

“But why, Teddy?”

It was all that Matty could think to ask, to say.

“No upset, for mama, for Matty.”

Christ, Matty had really fucked up this time.

“No tell.” Teddy repeated again, unaware of how his words made Matty’s heart break. “Matty. No tell.”

And then he was sobbing, aimlessly and hopelessly into Matty’s chest.

Matty held him near, rubbing a hand up and down the boy’s back whilst simultaneously wishing he could take everything back. That he could go back to this morning and never leave the flat. Never make that fucking offer.

He just wasn’t cut out for this.

He wasn’t-

Teddy’s fingers clung to the hoodie he wore with a strength that scared Matty a little, chest heaving with his quiet cries. “Okay, Teddy.” Matty murmured brokenly, trying to lull his crying with a soft and stuttered hush, “It’s okay, Teddy. I won’t tell. It’s okay.”

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doumadono · 7 months

Note

SINFUL SUNDAY!

Trying doggy with Katsuki Bakugo for the first time? and hes just WHIPPED

Dear Annonie, what can I say? I'm pretty damn sure it'd be an unforgettable experience ♥

Warnings: aged-up Bakugo

SINFUL SUNDAY

You had been diligently working on a mountain of documents at Dynamight's Hero Agency, and despite the late hour, you were far from finished. Everyone had either gone out on patrol or had completed their shifts, leaving only yur boss and you at the agency.

Then, in the distance, you heard Bakugo's unmistakable voice, his tone dripping with slyness, as he called out your name. The sinking feeling in your gut told you that you were in for something you hadn't quite signed up for.

"Yes, boss?" you inquired, cautiously peering into his office and adjusting your skirt.

"Get over here, idiot," he beckoned for you to step inside, and you complied.

"Yes?"

He pointed his imposing finger at a particular spot on the document. "What the hell is this, huh?"

"It's a place for a signature, sir."

"And why the hell isn't it signed?" Bakugo flashed a wry smirk, baring his teeth.

Your heart sank. You had forgotten to ask his sidekick to sign their reports. "I… I… I apologize, boss. It seems I've been…"

"You've been what?" Bakugo growled? "Seems like you were too preoccupied dolling yourself up for me that you completely blanked on your responsibilities, didn't you, dumbass?"

Your heart fluttered. You had harbored a significant crush on Dynamight since the day you met, and, truth be told, he wasn't entirely wrong in his assessment. Yet, you tried to muster a rebuttal. "No, boss! I'd never…"

"Get over here, dumbass," he nodded slightly, beckoning you closer, and you complied.

"I should just fire you on the spot," he contemplated, revealing his flawless teeth in a mischievous grin. "Late to work often, daydreaming instead of getting down to business. I don't know, Y/N."

Your complexion drained of color. The thought of losing your job over such a minor oversight was unthinkable. "I'll do whatever it takes, just please don't put my job in jeopardy…"

"Anything I want, you say? Well, that's intriguing, you little, naughty tease," he gestured towards his desk. "Lean over and let me see that tight little pussy of yours, and I'll think."

You blinked, a warm blush creeping onto your cheeks. Despite the embarrassment, you bit your lip and complied. You followed his instructions, lifting your skirt to your waist and bracing your arms on his desk in a provocative position, pushing your ass up a little.

He hummed.

Turning your head to glance at him, you watched as his fingers trailed along your buttocks, eventually gripping your clothed folds with his thumb and forefinger. It sent exhilarating shivers down your spine and you gasped.

Bakugo traced circles around your most sensitive area with his fingers, soon pushing your cotton panties aside and gradually easing them into your slick warmth.

The desire for his touch overwhelmed you, and you instinctively pressed back against him, rhythmically moving in response to his skilled fingers, humping them.

"You fucking, naughty bitch," he whispered, his grin never vanished. "Look at you, getting off around my fucking fingers. How pathetic. Just don't think I'll let you cum yet. Get on your fucking knees and suck me."

You eagerly dropped to your knees, anticipation coursing through you as you finally got to see the object of your long-held fantasies. With haste, you opened the fly of his combat trousers and took his impressive, hard dick into your hands. It was much larger than you could have ever imagined. Holding it firmly with both hands, you sensually licked the pre-cum from the slit on the glistening head. Moistening your lips, you made intense eye contact with Bakugo, even if you felt like you'd burn on a spot. You slowly parted your lips, taking his entire length into your mouth and sucking vigorously on his elongated shaft.

His hand slid into your hair, gripping a handful of those silky strands. His head fell back in sheer ecstasy, his grip on your hair intensified as he held your head in place. "Fuck yeah, just like that, work your fucking tongue on me. That's it, you little slut, suck on my cock. You like it, you dirty, little tease."

You pressed your tongue flat against the bulging vein underneath his shaft, occasionally glancing up at him. These actions were far naughtier and dirtier than anything you had ever dared to imagine in your wildest fantasies.

"Enought," Bakugo commanded, yanking your head back by your hair. "Get up. I wanna feel your hot, tiny cunt on my cock."

You returned to your position on the desk and parted your legs, giving him easy access to take you from behind.

This time, Bakugo wasted no time, tugging your panties down your legs, to your knees, and thrusting the full length of his dick into your already slick pussy. A small gasp escaped your parted lips as he did. Bakugo firmly grasped your hair, pulling you back with his dick still deeply ensconced within your velvety walls. "I've been watching you for a long time, you naughty slut," Katsuki purred, his voice filled with pent-up desire. "Did you really think I'd let you go after all those private shows, coming to work in all those fucking short skirts and tight shirts, each of which had me jacking off every night, longing for your cunt? I've waited patiently to teach you the consequences of teasing. I'm going to make you mine until you're completely spent, bitch. From now, you're going to be my delicious little whore, you dirty bitch," Bakugo snarled, thrusting in your dripping pussy at primal, rough pace.

With that, Bakugo began to slam his hard cock in and out of your tight hole. The pain was unbearable at first as your pussy wasn't used to a cock that big, but as he fucked you harder, you began to enjoy it. "Fuck!" you cried out as Bakugo yanked your head back by your hair. "Holy shit, yes!"

His balls slapped against your pussy from behind. Bakugo reached forward, unbuttoned your white blouse, and unhooked the front clasp of your bra so that he could grab your breasts in his calloused hands. He pinched your nipples.

Your pussy has never felt anything like this before. The blend of pain and pleasure was utterly intoxicating!

Katsuki spread your legs wider as he continued to shove his cock vigorously in and out of your slick cunny, over and over again.

You bit on your lip to prevent your screams from escaping as he continued to fuck you hard and fast, yet it didn't help. "Fuck, Bakugo! Oh my God!"

"The heavens won't bail you out, slut," he growled through clenched teeth. "And for you it's fucking Dynamight, dirty whore."

"Dynamight!" You began meeting his thrusts with gradual rolls of your hips. Doing this sent Bakugo's cock all the way up to the hilt in your pussy, making your body shake violently as you came all over him, your juices coating his entire shaft.

"That's it, you little bitch, come for me. Ouughh ammmpppff, fuck!" Bakugo shuddered as he came, filling your cunt with load after load of hot sticky cum. He grunted angrily, and you felt his cock slowly begin to soften inside you.

He withdrew slowly, a droplet of his cum dripping down and landing on the marble floor. After tidying his dick up with a paper towel, he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipped them up, and adjusted his belt. "Well, well, well, Y/N," Bakugo smirked wryly, slowly rubbing your wet folds, covered in your mixed releases, "After this, I might not only spare your job but consider giving you a damn promotion."

329 notes · View notes

dragonwritersblog · 7 months

Text

Five Times Jax and Pomni Share Dreams of Their Past Lives (And One Time Where They Remember)

Read on AO3

Read Part 2 Here

1/2/3/4/5/6

Jax and Pomni know that they can’t actually dream in this digital world, nor can they remember who they were before coming here. But after retiring to their sleeping quarters each night, they begin to have dreams of people who they have never seen before, not the circus themed cast of characters within this realm, but real people! Why do they seem do real? Why do these dreams feel more like memories? And why do these people remind them so much of each other?

I can't believe how much the silly circus show won me over, and how much brainrot these two have given me. I won't update for I while as I have other wips for different fandoms I'm working on but I wanted to get the first chapter up to help motivate me. Anyways I hope you like this and check out the rest of my tumblr to see what I get up to.

Also yes the chapter titles are Taylor Swift songs because I'm weak.

Fearless

The air was crisp and cool, though not to the point where people were shivering in their costumes, neon lights were in every corner anyone could see, flashing the paths with pinks, purples and green, different stalls and rides were up, ranging from candy apples and sweets stand to rollercoasters and Ferris wheels and every single person were dressed as either monsters, characters or whatever their imaginations would come up with. Truly, the festival had set the perfect atmosphere for Halloween…well, everyone except for Penny.

She was a short young woman, 23 years of age with long dark hair that reached her waste and curtain bangs along her forehead, with pale skin and a bony structure (she hated that part about herself).

It wasn’t that she was forced to come here – she had heartily accepted when her sister Riley and her girlfriend Winter asked – but now that she was here, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Penny wasn’t really the bravest person around, she flinched at the slightest sound, she dreaded talking to new people who would come her way and had relied on her older sister to help her out for most of her life, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t trying to overcome any of it. After all it wasn’t like she could control her anxiety, it was something she struggled with ever since she was little. But tonight, she wanted to prove that she was able to enjoy Halloween outside the comfort of handing out candy to trick-or-treaters from the safety of her home. So far, she really did like it, she had fun buying sweets and going on rollercoasters, and though it could be overbearing and loud sometimes, Riley and Winter would take her to a nearby café to help Penny catch her breath before doing something else.

However, this was part of the night that she both desperately wanted and dreaded doing…the haunted funhouse. She knew what was in there, jump scares, clowns and nightmares to last for the next few nights to come, but she didn’t want to miss out, now when she heard about how much fun people have had in there. She just wanted to prove that she wasn’t this scared little nobody, that she was a person who wanted to have fun like everyone else, to enjoy the things that everyone else had fun with. So here she was, dressed in a hastily sewn purple rabbit onesie of her own making (she had made it in a time crunch when learning about the festival) into a terrifying funhouse that deep down, where she wasn’t lying to herself, she did not want to go in.

“Penny no,” she turned to see Riley, holding Winter’s hand as the other girl was texting someone on her phone, “You know what your anxiety’s like, you don’t have to go in there.”

Riley had quite a lean build with noticeable muscle on her arms, she had shoulder length dark red hair, brown eyes and pale skin. She was four years older than Penny, and while she did seem a bit intimidating, she was always soft and protective over her younger sister.

“He’s still not answering,” Winter murmured, shaking her head, “He was supposed to meet us an hour ago.” Winter was slightly taller than Riley, with dark black hair and eyes with a tanned complexion. The two women were dressed in a couple’s costume, Riley as Poison Ivy and Winter as Harley Quinn, they were also supposed to meet with Winter’s friend, but the mystery person still hadn’t shown up yet.

“Maybe he’ll show up while I’m in the funhouse?” Penny suggested as Riley sighed, “I’ll be quick in there, if I run then I’ll have less time to acknowledge the bad stuff in there!”

“Penny, I know you and I know that if you go in there, you’re gonna have a panic attack,” Riley took her little sister’s hand, offering her a pleading gaze, “Please just stay out here with us and we’ll meet up with Winter’s friend. We could go on the rollercoaster again; I know you really enjoyed that one.”

Penny smiled fainty, Riley looking out for her wasn’t anything new, but she didn’t want her sister to be burdened with her. It wasn’t right, Riley deserved to live her life, have fun with Winter and not worry about her scaredy-cat sister all the time, she deserved better than that.

When Riley turned to face Winter again, Penny pulled her hand out of her sister’s and ran into the funhouse, ignoring Riley calling her name the deeper she went in.

She took a few more deep breaths, she was doing! She was doing it and oh…oh she fucked up. There were multiple paintings of disfigured clowns peering down at her from the halls, the eerie sounds of deranged crying and laughing made her hairs stand on end, there were paths twisting and turning as they reminded her that she could get lost in this dreadful house and mirrors that not only showed her in different shapes and sizes, but also her terrified expression. Riley was right, this was too much for her, she didn’t even want to come in here in the first place why did she do this?!

A crazed laugh made her jump, looking carefully over her shoulder, she noticed a tall jester from down the hall, his yellow suit stained with red, and his mask had a twisted smile, hiding dark secrets that she didn’t want to find out. With a scream, she tore off down the hall, the jester chasing after her. She knew that were going to be actors, trained with scaring the guests, but it didn’t mean that she liked it! She really, really shouldn’t have come in here.

She skidded to a stop when she came to a dead end, her back pressing to the wall as the jester came closer and closer to her. She bit back a fearful yelp as he slammed a hand next to her head, peering down at her. She took a few more breaths, trying to keep calm. This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real repeating the mantra in her head to help herself from screaming out…before fainting right into the jester’s arms.

“You have some nerve scaring her like that?! Aren’t you supposed to be trained with scenarios like this?!”

Penny groaned at the sound of a loud and angered voice, it sounded like it belonged to a woman and seemed very familiar.

“I am trained for your information!” A male voice retaliated, “I didn’t know she was going to faint!”

“Okay, Riley calm down, Jack be nice!” Another female voice entered the conversation, sharper and more direct than the other two, “What happened right now was an accident, we just need to wait and see if Penny wakes up before we call an ambulance, that was the procedure right Jack?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the male voice was quiet now, “I’m sorry again Winter, I genuinely didn’t know.”

Penny opened her eyes, squinting at the light as she sat up on what seemed to be a mattress. “Oh good you’re awake,” there was a woman she had never seen before beside her, wearing a white hoodie with a red cross on it, “My name is Lianne, I’m a paramedic for the funhouse in case something like this happens.”

“Penny! Oh thank God!” Riley rushed over to her, wrapping her arms around her younger sister and pressed a kiss at the side of her head, “You gave me a heart attack going into that house, and then hearing that you fainted?! Don’t ever do that again!”

Oh that’s right, she fainted, that explained why Riley sounded so angry when she woke up. God help which soul she was speaking to that suffered her wrath. “I’m okay Riley, you were right I shouldn’t have gone in,” Penny sighed, “I’m just tired of not being normal so I wanted to prove-”

“-You don’t have to prove shit,” Riley interrupted, “And you are normal, who the fuck made you think you had to go into a haunted house to prove that you’re a ‘normal person’?”

“Uh…myself?” Penny smiled awkwardly.

Riley shook her head and smiled, it was good to see that she wasn’t actually mad, just really worried, but to be fair worse had happened to Penny to make her sister go into ‘overprotective mode’. “Just don’t push yourself too hard again, okay?” she asked. Penny nodded again, Riley smiled one last time before her eyes furrowed and she turned away to face someone else, “And as for you!”

Penny looked up to see how her sister was talking to when her cheeks suddenly turned red from embarrassment. It was the jester from earlier! He was quite a tall man, with golden brown skin and eyes, with his hair in short dreads pulled up into a ponytail. His face with mixed with both frustration and shame, it wasn’t helping with Riley shouting at him.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook for scaring my little sister!” Riley growled, “I can’t believe you made her faint!”

“How did I make her faint?!” he retorted, “I’ve never had a reaction like hers before I didn’t know she was that scared!”

“That is enough!” Winter stepped in, grabbing them both painfully by the ear for a few seconds and then let them go, “Riley, go outside so I can talk with you, and Jack please apologize to Penny.”

Jack signed, turning to Penny as the girl flushed even more, she still couldn’t believe she fainted in front of him! “I’m sorry,” he said honestly.

“This is the friend I was taking about,” said Winter, “We were supposed to meet up, but he got called in since someone cancelled their shift last minute, but someone forgot to text us!”

“What are you taking about?” He reached into his pocket for his phone, “I sent you message before my…oh…I forgot to actually send it.”

Penny snorted, she tried to hold it in, but she burst out laughing instead, she couldn’t help it, the absurdity of the situation was just too much. She was so caught up in laughing that she didn’t catch the soft smile that Jack had at her reaction.

“Jesus Christ Jack,” Winter rubbed her temples, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“I have a few ideas,” Riley glared at him.

“Okay, you!” She grabbed Riley’s hand, “Come with me, Jack, keep Penny company while I have a chat with my girlfriend.”

“What?!” Penny and Jack said in unison, but Winter had already slammed the door.

“I should, um,” They whipped round to see that the paramedic was still here, having witnessed the entire interaction, “I should go tell my boss that there’s no need to call an ambulance.”

With that, she rushed out the door, leaving the two to stew awkwardly with one another. Penny’s rapidly beating heart wasn’t helping either, she really didn’t want to have another fainting episode again. It didn’t help that this Jack guy was really handsome. Huh? Why did I think that?

“So…” she spoke up, gulping as Jack turned to her, his eyes focused as though he were studying her, like a bug being examined, “What’s the jester like life? I mean! What's the jester life like?! Not the other one, forget about that. In fact don’t talk to me at all! Or do! Don’t let me tell you what to do, I mean, you’re not the one spouting out word vomit!” Jack raised an eyebrow at her, Penny shoved her reddening face into her hands.

It was then Jack’s turn to start laughing, messy chortles escaping his mouth at her bizarre sentence, leading Penny to pout at his reaction. “Sorry toots,” the laughter died down once he saw he face, “I thought you were funny, didn’t mean to offend you. And to answer your question, the jester life is pretty good.”

“You think I’m funny?” she asked. It wasn’t the first time someone laughed at her, but not because they found her humorous.

“Yeah, not everyone can ‘spout word vomit’ and make it cute,” he told her.

Penny blushed. Okay, first he found her funny and now he found her cute, she really hoped he couldn’t hear how loud and fast her heart was beating. “Um, sorry for fainting on you,” she murmured, “Surprisingly it was not the lowest moment of my life.”

“You’re sorry for fainting?” He raised a brow at her again.

“Well it led to my sister yelling out you,” she told him, “I’m sorry about that as well, Riley can get pretty overprotective over me or our mom.”

“Yeah, Winter warned me about that,” he replied, remembering the way he tried to not tremble at her fiery gaze. “If looks could kill.”

“Tell me about it,” Penny nodded, her eyes scanned the costume he was wearing, now having a face attached to it made it less frightening. The way the fabric was stitched and how the everything on the piece was placed, it looked less like something from a Halloween shop and more something homemade. “Did you make this?”

“Huh, oh this? I wish,” he said, “I actually had it commissioned, sure it cost a bit more, but I wanted it to feel a bit more real, you know, to scare people and that.”

“Yeah, well it definitely worked,” Penny giggled, “As someone who does commissions for others as well, its nice when someone reaches out for us to make something.”

“Us?” he titled his head.

“I’m a costume designer, well, studying a course in costume design at college,” Penny explained, “I noticed how your outfit was made and it instantly clicked in my brain.”

“Oh really? Did you also make that rabbit suit you’re wearing?” he asked as he pointed to her onesie.

Penny rolled her eyes, “Not my best work but I had limited time when Winter and Riley asked me if I wanted to come to the Halloween festival. But hey, its warm and cozy for the season!”

“I think it looks cute on you,” he smiled and winked at her. It was a friendly wink, nothing behind it, but it still made Penny’s toes curl. “How about we start over, I’m Jack.” He held his hand out to her.

Penny took it in her own and shook it, “I’m Penny. So, how do you know Winter?”

There was a nervous flicker in his eyes, but he blinked it away before Penny asked anything else, “We meet as freshmen in high school, she was a few months older than me, but she took me under her wing, and we’ve been friends ever since. I met Riley as well when they started dating but I have a feeling I might be on her bad side now.”

Before Penny could say anything else, there was a crash and a scream before Winter and Riley rushed back into the room, slamming the door behind them. “We forgot this was a haunted funhouse,” Winter trembled, her and Riley’s faces paling.

Penny and Jack shared a glance, stifling their laughter as the couple pulled themselves together. “Anyways,” Riley brushed herself off, “We should head home and tell Mom what happened.”

“Right,” Penny nodded before turning back to Jack, “Hopefully we’ll see each other again, but somewhere else cause with all due respect I’m never stepping foot in this funhouse again.”

Jack chuckled, “That’s understandable, and sorry for scaring you again.”

“That’s okay, at least we finally met,” Penny grinned.

“Alright, home time for you miss,” Riley pulled Penny up, giving a final glare towards Jack before leading her sister away.

“It was nice to meet you, Jack!” Penny called back to him.

“The pleasure’s all mine!” Jack called back, giving Winter a hug before she chased after the sisters.

In the car ride back home, Penny found herself smiling. Jack was nice, granted she wished it didn’t take fainting for them to meet but she was glad she did. “So,” Winter turned in the passenger seat to face Penny in the back, “Sorry that it was under these events how you met Jack, hopefully you were okay with him.”

“I’m not,” said Riley, focused on the road.

“Just keep driving mama bear,” Winter rolled her eyes before turning to Penny again.

“I was okay with him, we actually got on pretty well,” she admitted, “I’m glad I finally met him.”

Winter smiled and turned to Riley to smirk at her, “So, it looks like ‘big bad Jack’ won over your little sister.”

“Must you taunt me?” Riley groaned.

“But that why you love me so much,” Winter teased kissed her loudly on the cheek, “It was my taunting that drew you to me.”

Riley tried and failed to repress a lovesick grin. Penny chuckled at her older sister and turned to face out the window again, counting the stars that passed. Hopefully she would meet Jack again.

Pomni woke with a start. What on this digital earth was that?!

Ever since she arrived here, she never had actually dreams before. Whenever she ‘slept’ it felt like she was switching off, like a button on a computer game and blacked out before she was ‘switched on’ again.

But that dream, why did it feel so real? She remembered the concept of dreams, how anything random would happen and the little control you would have over them. Maybe she was a lucid dreamer in her past life and that’s why this one had more will power in it?

She thought back to that Penny girl, she acted so much like her, the nervousness, her fear of mostly everything and her reaction when she went into that funhouse. Although now, she would gladly take that funhouse over this ‘Amazing Digital Circus’.

Then there was Penny’s sister, Riley. Despite how threatening she was at first glance, the protectiveness she had with her sister and the loved-filled eyes for her girlfriend made her feel a bit safer than she ever felt here.

Did Pomni have a family before the circus, did she have an older sister that would protect with without a second thought? Did she have a family that worried about her, wondering what happened to her?

Then she thought of Jack. She thought about him interacting with Penny, how cheeky yet sweet he was with her. And the way he looked at Penny. She felt herself blushing. In a way, his laidback attitude and mischievous grin, he reminded her a little bit of Jax…

She shook her head, she was being ridiculous, regardless of what Ragatha said when she came here, this was just and only a dream. Besides, it probably wouldn’t happen again, and things would return to its usual format here, just switching on and off again.

She sighed and shoved off her bed sheets, mentally preparing herself for whatever sanity Caine had up his sleeves.

Its not like anyone else was having these types of dreams, right?

That would be the case…for anyone who wasn’t Jax.

The rabbit was currently at the breakfast table, he Gangle and Kinger waiting for everyone else to arrive.

Just when he thought we finally got used to this place, he had an actual dream last night, not the usual shut down he received every night. He remembered every detail from the lights of the festival to the noises supplied from the funhouse and that Jack guy in the jester costume.

There wasn’t much he got from the dream about him, just that was someone who worked to scare people and make money out of it, honestly it seemed the ideal career path he would take if he weren’t stuck here.

But what made that dream so memorable for him was that Penny girl. The way she would shyly peek through her hands, to her kind smile and her knowledge with costumes, and of course he couldn’t forget about her fainting spell. Talk about an unexpected surprise.

Although, she did seem sweet in a way, whoever this Jack guy was he hoped that he was smart enough to see her again. Jax sighed, what was he talking about? This was a dream, plain and simple, yet here he was acting as though he knew this Jack person.

Just leave it he thought bitterly its stupid anyway.

“I’m gonna check where the rest of them at,” he told Gangle and Kinger, “Zooble probably lost one of his arms again, so I might as well hide it if that’s the case.”

“Wouldn’t you rather help them find it?” Gangle whimpered.

Jax huffed out a laugh, “And where’s the fun in that?”

He got out from his chair, only to bump into another body, almost losing his balance, “Hey, watch where your-”

He looked down to see Pomni sitting on the ground, probably from him bumping into her, her red and blue eyes widening when she realised what she did.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she burst out, “Usually I sit next to you whenever we eat, and I didn’t see you sitting up but I’m still really sorry either way I shouldn’t have done that-”

“-Not the other one, forget about that. In fact don’t talk to me at all! Or do! Don’t let me tell you what to do, I mean, you’re not the one spouting out word vomit!”

“I’m really sorry!”

Jax snapped out of his trance, looking down at Pomni again, her eyes looking both sad and apologetic. He signed, reaching down to pull her up by the end. “Relax pom-pom, it wasn’t like you planned to do that…unless?”

“What, no, of course not!” she yelped.

Jax laughed, the newbie was easy to rile up.

“Shut up Jax,” Zooble moved past him to get to their spot, “Let’s just get breakfast over with before we need to deal with the headache Caine is gonna give us.”

“Whatever,” Jax slumped back into his seat, Pomni gently placing herself upon hers as Zooble and Ragatha did the same.

The way Pomni acted just then, the way she was quick to flush and stutter over her words, and the fact that she was so nervous about everything as well. It was all just like Penny.

No, don’t, don’t be stupid Jax. Jack isn’t real, Penny isn’t real, so don’t bother comparing her to Pomni.

With that, he let himself continue with his food.

But it wouldn’t be the last time he or Pomni would make these comparisons, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last time they had these ‘dreams.’

See you next time, let me know if I've written them well, this is the first time writing for this fandom. And who knows, perhaps next chapter the sillies might actually go on a date? 🤷

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #pomnijax #funnybunny #pomni x jax #pomni #jax #female oc #ragatha #gangle #kinger #zooble #caine #dragon rambles #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3

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saltsicklover · 4 months

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Title: Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ꨄ︎ Part Four (The final part!)

This is the final part of this little story! Thank you all so much for reading, and thank you for the request! I really enjoyed writing this one! Cheers to finally meeting Bob!

Read Part One and Two and Three

Prompt from THIS ASK

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader SOULMATE AU

Word Count: 9700+

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Crying, Gentle Jake, Mention of throwing up, mention of a rank kink, lots of apologies, Bob kinda ruining things at first but things get better I promise!!

---

I want to rip my arm away from Jake's gentle grasp. I hate how he still holds me so kindly after how I treated him. After I ran. Tolerant fingertips against stilted skin. The area feels exposed. I feel exposed, too. Jake's hand is still on my elbow, warmth trickling into streams of amenity. There is no nettle of anxiety and that fact makes me want to cry. Fuck. I don't really want to cry, not again. But the gentleness of this almost perfect stranger tempts the fate of my tear ducts.

The breeze sends an achily dry feeling over my tear chapped skin. I grimace lightly at the feeling. It's nothing but mere distraction. It's nature's own fingertips grazing against my skin.

"You ran," Jake starts, his eyes darting over my face but never settling exactly on my eyes. His tone holds no accusation, thought it should be dripping in it. Instead, Jake remains soft spoken. He drops his hold on my elbow. I miss it as soon as it's gone, worried that now, I may float into space with nothing to tether me down. Nothing to tether me to this: here and now.

"I did," It's a confirmation that pains me as it leaves my lips.

"I'm sorry I scared you," The apology catches me off guard. So does the way Jake looks broken up about it. God, that makes me feel worse. And then I'm surging forward to wrap my arms around him. For a moment, it's just like it was in the airport, awkward and clunky. Then he relaxes a bit, wrapping his arms loosely around my shoulders.

Maybe this is what our relationship is bound to be, not written by the universe, but instead untangling from the bonds that came before. Maybe that's what friendship is. The unabated way we fold each other into embraces. My aplomb tendencies when it comes to the truth and the way it meets Jake's largess fits together like patchwork. Stitches made of brazen conversation hold us together, felicific.

"It wasn't you that scared me, it was the fucking words!" I explain, though it comes out all mumbled, though urgent, into the fabric of his flight suit. I turn my head, pressing my ear into his chest.

His heart beats in my ears, off rhythm with my own. Thump, thump, thuthumpump, thumpthump. Thump thumpthump, thump, thump.

"I have carried these words around for so long, and I've always hated what I thought they meant. I always understood it as a negative, and I never understood that it could be so gentle. And I know that you didn't pick them out to mean more than just simply what they do. But, Oh, it's just Bob, seriously?" I'm somewhere between laughing and crying by the end. Jake rubs a hand up and down the length of my back, right over my spine. It's warm and comforting.

"Still, I'm sorry," Jake mumble, his chin resting atop my head.

"Well, even though you don't need to apologize, apology accepted," I squeeze him around the middle, punctuating my words. Thump thumpthump thump.

"Thanks, Birdie," Jake hums, his hand never stilling. We stand like that for a few moments, the wind blowing past us. It's barely lukewarm and cooling under the slow dying sun. Jake's hands are torrid in their place around my body, an even heat exchange.

"I wanted to punch you," I admit, not even feigning sympathy. "Not today- but, a long time ago... Somewhere around fourteen I got fed up with the way people reacted to the "just " in my sentence. Everyone always saw it in a bad light, and it made me want to punch whoever said it, or would say it."

"Do you still want to punch me?" Jake's laugher rumbles over the beat of his heart.

My laugh rumbles over mine too. "No. I just... I decided that Bob is my everything so long ago, and so at the time it felt right to throw hands over him."

Jake's laughter doesn't stop, instead the rumbling in my ear gets louder and louder. He mumbles something about how Bob would turn bright red if he'd heard that but I think it was meant more for himself than for me. Silence overtakes us, save for the usual bustle of the airfield and the ever present sound of our heartbeats. Thump, thump, thump. Still, Jake keeps up his ministrations against my spine.

"What's he like?" The question breaks the silence. A jet takes off somewhere in the distance, neither of us comment on it.

"Bob?" Jake inquires, his hand stilling.

"No, Jay Leno," I gaze up at him with one of those seriously looks on my face, the best one I can muster, "Yes, Bob,"

"Well..." Jake takes a deep breath in, swishing his words around in his mouth like a sip of expensive wine, "You've got a good one, Birdie, truly. He's one of the best men I know. Smart as a whip, quiet, observant to the point where never misses a damn thing, it drives us all nuts,"

Jake's laughter thunders.

My heart stutters, still I'm quick to quip back a response.

"Everyone or just you?"

"Oh, shut it," The words are all playful.

"He looks just like Rhett," I mumble. I take my bottom lip between my teeth, rolling over the fullness of it. Jake erupts in heavier laugher.

"Yeah, twins usually do,"

"Shut up," I retaliate quickly, releasing my lip to make sure he hears me. "How is Rhett? I feel so bad for running. Fuck, I haven't even apologized to you. I am sorry, Jake, I really am,"

"You don't have to apologize. I was there, remember? I know how it went down. I probably would've run too," Jake admits, resuming his motions up and down my spine.

"I don't think that makes me feel any better," I hide my laugher in his chest, my barely wet skin almost squeaking against the material of his flight suit. "But thanks anyway,"

"You bet," Jake hums, "Rhett is alright, worried. We... We didn't really get a chance to talk about the airport thing because Bob picked us up. I think Rhett was avoiding saying anything so he didn't say the wrong thing,"

"I don't think you can say the wrong thing," I pull away from the warmth of his embrace to look up at him, "It's all predestined, you know. And if they are close, wouldn't Rhett know what Bob's sentence is anyway?"

"You would think," Jake chuckles.

"Do you know what his says?" My voice wavers at the question. I probably shouldn't have asked. Fuck my curiosity for getting the better of me. Another jet takes off, loud and unbothered by our conversation.

"I do,"

"And?"

"I'm not going to say as it's not mine to share... But..." A few beats pass between us, a jet soaring overhead. It buys Jake nothing more than a few seconds. "I think I'm the one who's supposed to say it," There's only a sliver of apprehension in his tone.

"How do you figure?"

"Because I know the words, and I know that we are standing here right now having this conversation and by now I'm sure everyone else is in that hanger waiting on me to show up to start the hop," Jake brings his hands up to my shoulders, pushing me back far enough to look at me without having to crane his neck. "And I know that we could wrap this up right now and walk back to the hanger and I could say those words and everything would go from there, just as it should."

"Right now?"

"Right now," I can barely hear him over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. I swear, if it wasn't for his hands on my shoulders, I would be vibrating away from how hard my heart is hitting my ribcage.

"It's not too fast?" I ask, finally deciding on some sort of sentence that doesn't really capture what I'm trying to say.

"Bridie, people wait their whole lives for this. They fight wars and move across the world for this. They take the same bus to work everyday. They run for political offices. They develop apps and services for this sort of thing and right now, Bob is sitting in that hanger right there," Jake thrusts a pointed finger towards the hanger, his tone getting a bit louder with each sentence, "And you are standing here asking me if it's too soon?"

"I guess I just-"

"Bob already talks about you," Jake interjects, not caring for my excuses.

"He doesn't even know me," I retort, once again defensive. There is a part of me that wishes I'd stayed hidden away in my father's office, staring out his too big windows and allowing myself to bargain over the importance of this situation. Instead, Jake is like a reflector for excuses and bullshit, cutting through all of the excess and highlighting the point with less than eloquence. My heart still pounds, I can feel it in my fingertips as they graze over my thighs. I try and push the incessant thumping sound out of my ears in a better attempt to hear what Jake is saying.

"It doesn't matter. Bob's a quiet guy, but when he is talking, it's often about his soulmate. He wonders, usually out loud, about what you will be like. He worries too, about if you'll care he's in the Navy, or that he's a Wizzo. He worries that you'll hate moving all the time, or won't want to be with him because there's the risk of deployments and all the other bullshit we go through. At the bar, he wonders about what your signature drink is, and if you like to play pool or if you prefer darts, or dancing. He hopes that you'll be beautiful, but not in the face or body, but in the soul. I'm telling you Birdie, he wants to know everything, and he's not very good at waiting for it,"

I can only stand there, still as stone with Jake's hands cupped over the caps of my shoulders. I can't even flounder over words. There are none stuck in my throat, in fact, for the first time in a long time I am speechless.

So Jake continues, "Birdie, Robert Floyd is head over heels for you already. My Mama always used to say that there is no difference between a wise man and a fool when it comes to love, and looking at Baby on Board I can say that, and I mean this as kindly as I can, there is no telling if he's wise," There is a chuckle stirring somewhere deep in his chest at the notion.

"That's a lot to live up to," I mumble, hoping Jake misses the words over the jets racing over us. He doesn't. Of course he doesn't.

"You're not living up to anything, Birdie, that's the thing. Bob hasn't even met you yet and you're everything. I already know it," Jake's admission is brazenly honest in a way that has me teetering over the precipice of my own self conscious mind. "And think about it this way, with as much time as he spends talking about ya, think about how much time he spends thinking aboutcha,"

Jake has a point, as hard as it is to admit.

"Can I be honest about something?" Jake's shoes are the most interesting thing in the world, with the way my eyes are locked onto the dark leather. I trace the eyelets with my eyes, up the wrapping of the laces to where the legs of his flight suit are bloused into his boots.

Jake's hands slide from my shoulders, hitting his thighs with a low smack. "Have we not been?"

Glancing up, I take in the sight of Jake's crimped expression, how his eyes glint in the lowness of the sun. His shoulders dip. A deep sigh escapes from the prison of his chest, edged with more concern than hostility. It's met with my own, the lukewarm air swirling in my lungs only to mingle with the wind again, now a few degrees hotter. Everything feels hotter now.

"Brutally," The word is overwhelmingly correct, cutting the tip of my tongue as it passes. "But I think I have more to say before I reach a consensus or a breakdown."

I chuckle out a dry laugh. Jake nods, squaring his shoulders just a little bit. It's an urge to continue, not that I needed one at this point.

"Up until this point, I don't think I ever thought past wanting Bob. I decided that Bob was it for me so long ago that I never found a need to think past it," I shove my hands as deep into my pockets as they will go to keep myself from picking at my nails.

"I've never been focused on finding him. Never focused on if he would like me, or if I would like him because I knew that it was in the hands of the universe, you know? And maybe if I believed in a God or something it would be in their handsand then I really wouldn't have to think about it. I mean, the universe picked me for Bob and him for me, so why would there be anything to worry about? But..."

My gaze finds itself just over Jake's shoulder, fixated on the hanger. The hanger that Bob is probably standing in waiting for the hop to start. Maybe he's cursing out Jake for being late. Or sitting next to that beautiful brunette laughing like there isn't a care in the world. Perhaps he's worried about being late, the hop in the forefront of his mind. It could be what he's going home to after work. Maybe he has a cat, an entire collection of Lego flowers, or an alcoholic roommate.

Standing here for just a few moments longer keeps that information at bay, along with all the questions I'm too afraid to ask myself.

And even though Jake swears six ways to Sunday that Bob wants me, maybe it's just because he thinks he has to. What if Bob only likes me because the universe told him to? Or what if he doesn't like me at all- the whole thing just an overexaggerated front to keep those he's closest to from asking questions.

There are so many questions.

Jake sways into the forefront of my now glassy vision, his face just a little out of focus. His brows are furrowed, tightening as I blink a few times to refocus everything.

"But what? What is it?" Concern. There is so much concern in the gravel of his voice.

"I... I think..." Another deep, slow breathe of air that smells thick of jet fuel. It burns my lungs as it passes, more now than it has before. Everything burns more now. I can feel my skin glazing at the heat, like I'm more glass than paint. More sugar than starch. More myself than destiny.

"No, I know," I meet Jake's eyes, ignoring how they burn too, "I don't want Bob to like me out of obligation. I don't want a relationship born out of a feeling of moral imperative, or because he's being backed into it. I don't want him to fall in love with me, I-"

Jake looks addled, and maybe... marred? There is something unreadable in his expression, his eyes ever fixated. I only stutter for a second, over my words, over that look, over the glazing of my own flesh.

"I want Bob to walk into love with me," There's a scuff of realization the moment the words are said, something akin to a record scratch. I am more than a predestined prediction, a proportional kind of perfect. "I can't have the same retronym love story of duty with no real choice. Soulmates or not, Bob needs to choose me or I'm not the one for him."

The conclusion is finite and final. That's all it needs to be.

Jake is all slack jaw and flashbulb eyes. His hand make's it's way slowly through the air until it's stoking back his hair. He follows around the top of his head until he's at the nape. Scratching at the back of his neck, Jake still looks my way. I can't see anything in his face other than astonishment bordering on incredulous. A small part of myself, a part that I didn't know existed past the pedant preteen years that bled into formalist youth, begs for a sort of validation. But I stay quiet. I don't need Jake to dignify this. Not when I know in my bones that it's true.

We stand just like this for a few minutes. I count the number of deep, slow breaths he takes. Three thousand three hundred sixty miles the Earth has rotated in the time it took Jake to take just under forty five deep breathes.

My heart beats hard against my ribs, and for the first time today I spend a moment calculating my heart beat. It's more than thumps thrown against the backside of my ribs. In times like this I break the world down into numbers, into something tangible and bite sized- easily digested. Somewhere around beat eighty five a jet pulls my attention away.

Jake's eyes are locked on the ground in front of his toes. I can just barely see the way his eyes trace the hairline fractures of the concrete. They mirror the fractures of this conversation, though words go unsaid the concrete beneath out feet seems more like ice. We are drifting.

"You've made me reevaluate this entire thing," The words are a mess of mumbled whispers feathering off his tongue. Then he laughs, one of those thick honeyed laughs that rattles your entire being. I didn't bring this point up to have Jake question his entire reality and from the sound of his laugh all slick and marred he may be doing just that.

"Let me ask you something," My words are somewhere between a peace offering and a threat of war. An olive branch paired with cocklebur and thistle; a fucked up bouquet. "Do you love Bradley?"

"Of course I do," There is no hesitation, just conviction, "He's my everything,"

"Are you in love with him?" The words are like chem trails hanging visible between us. Jake's tongue laves over the corner of his mouth for a second. Our eyes meet and he cocks a small smile.

"Honestly, he's the only person I've ever been in love with. I think I was in love with him before we even got together. Somewhere between butting heads over work shit to the time we hauled each other into that filthy bathroom stall while on shore leave, I fell for him. We uhh..." There's another moment of hesitation, heavier than the one before, "Rooster wasn't looking for his soulmate. Too much tragedy and loss when he was growin' up. He didn't want to lose anyone else. I on the other hand have one of those sentences,"

Jake fumbles with the zipper on his flight suit, his fingers shaking just a tad. The zipper pulls with a metallic buzz all the way down to his waist, far enough for Jake to pull his left arm free of the fabric. With a twist of his arm, I can read the fragile script inked into the soft underside of his bicep, I just hope he's okay.

Two beats and a breath.

"Is he?"

"Not all the time, but, things with Mav are getting better everyday. He still struggles but that's life," It's all warmly honest and sweet coming off of Jake's tongue. I share a smile with him. Jake traces over the words with his thumb, pulling gently at the skin. The air between us is lighter now. I am no longer counting heart beats. Instead, I let them pass through my chest without a second thought. The seconds pass, the Earth rotates and I breathe without fraction.

"But enough about us," Jake waves his hand in dismissal, "Are you ready?" He pulls his flight suit back over his shoulder, threading his arm though. The zipper hums that metallic zip again as I chew on the inside of my cheek. Am I ready? I don't know, but standing here under the slow setting sun makes me feel like I could be.

"How long does the beginning last?" I meet his eyes with question. His jaw ticks but the corner of his smile ticks up too. There is so much knowing in that look.

I've always been more at home in endings. With autumn, dying flowers in vases, and sunsets. Last words, whispered goodbyes, and the feeling of fingertips grazing palms after handshakes; those make sense to me.

Beginnings and I are strangers sharing fleeting glances. We are curtesy smiles across crowded rooms when our eyes meet on accident. Business cards and for sale posters pinned to public bulletin boards and the passing of cigarettes at concerts. Beginnings haze past me and if I don't move, don't breathe, don't blink, I can coast into the now, the middle of moments, what's left between the beginning and the end.

"Only a second,"

Jake takes my hand in his own. He rubs his thumb reassuringly over the joint of my thumb, our palms pressed together. Gently, he's guiding me back to the hanger. The whole ordeal is regulated by his kind touches. My skin burns under his hands, but it's not that romantic kind of burning. Instead, Jake's fingertips pressing into my skin are a smoke signal; I follow it diligently.

The walk to the hanger is quiet. No words spoken between us. The only sounds come from the base itself and the way our shoes hit the pavement. I wish there was a sort of de rigueur for situations like this. A handbook outlining exactly what you're supposed to say in the limbo moment between past and future. It's that moment where the word present doesn't quite fit. It's too liminal, a sort of aberration. Jake's soothing touch is pithy in the same way it is integral.

The sound of our shoes against the pavement changes as we pass through the threshold. It's far less crunch and a bit more scuff, now. Jake's boots are louder than the soft rubber of my sneakers. They give me a little bit more height, in turn I feel harder to miss. As if the only civilian in a hanger full of flight suit clad aviators would be difficult to miss in the first place.

We only make it about half way into the hanger, just about the point where the chilled breeze warms over when Jake stops me. I go to take another step but his hand tightening around my own. It's a quiet plea to stay put. There's more to unfold, and for a moment I wonder if the beginning has past yet or if I'm on the cusp of it. Jake separates his hand from mine, the warmth of his palm sticking for a few fleeting seconds.

Maybe that's how much time the universe spent connecting souls together in friendship. The few fleeting moments in the flick of a pen, ink still drying on the parchment of the universe.

The aviators all sit facing the board at the front, a couple to a table. There's only six aviators sitting, but that accounts for the main team, save for Hangman walking up the aisle. My father, Tom and Pete are at the front of the room, similar to the way I left them. Now, though, Pete is leaning against the table with his husband rather than taking up residence on the floor. My father is still sat in a chair at the front, but he's now facing the group of young aviators. His eyes catch mine from across the room, a small reassuring grin taking it's place on his lips. It keeps me from wavering, then it disappears as fast as it came.

I catch Tom's eyes next. From this far away, the usual stark blue of his eyes are less icy. Now, they're more soft, welcoming like a clear sky. He places a hand on Pete's knee, the younger man agog with excitement to the point where he's almost buzzing. He must've spotted Jake and I when we walked in, but the famous Maverick is good at keeping people's attention where he wants it. Everyone's eyes are still focused forward on him as he natters on. I will my ears to hear over the newfound sound of blood thrashing through my ears.

But it's not Pete's voice I catch, instead it belongs to a woman.

"Why are you two sharing this story now? I know that Payback and Coyote have been asking about this for months and you're finally talking? Something doesn't add up, if you ask me,"

Pete goes to open his mouth again, but Tom squeezes his knee again. His grip looks a little too hard. Mav doesn't seem to acknowledge the uniform wrinkling grip his husband has on his knee, but he keeps his mouth shut.

"I was thinking the same thing," Bradley pipes up, his chin resting against his closed fist, elbow propped up on the table in front of him. "Even though I've heard this story about a thousand times, I know Jake wanted to hear it-"

"Where is Bagman? I thought he came in with you, Bradshaw," The woman counters back.

"I'm right here, Phoenix," Jake pipes up, his tone more smug than I've ever heard it, as he's walking right past the empty seats to stand next to my father. "I was working on something for the Air Boss, is that alright with you lot?"

There are murmurs, nothing intelligible. The usual glower on my father's features when he's in front of his subordinates is no where to be seen. Instead, his features are schooled into neutral disinterest. Jake leans towards him to whisper into his ear- my father's expression remains still. Then Jake is moving towards Pete. He leans in between Mav and his husband, letting them both listen to what he has to say. With a clap of his hands, Pete is interrupting whatever Jake is telling him. I am a bit taken aback by Pete's sudden command but it seems no one else is surprised. Tom shakes his head a bit but does nothing to hold back his husband.

"Alright team, change of plans!" The words are met with a groan. "Our lovely COMPACFLT is going to take you guys for a little trip across the air field, I'll be there to join you shortly. Lt. Floyd, could you hang back for a moment, Admiral Simpson and I would like to have a word with you. Same goes for you as well, Lt. Seresin,"

"That's a lot of formality there, old man," Jake jests over the sound of scooching chairs and boots against the cement. I watch as the small group files out of a door at the back of the hanger, diligently following after Tom.

It's only then that it really hits me.

The only people left standing in this hanger with me are my father, Pete, Jake and Robert Floyd. My Robert Floyd, the man I have spent so long imagining. When I was a child, I used to talk to the moon about him. The habit started after my teacher told us the story about the man in the moon. He served as my confidant, my secret keeper, and my light for the future. It wasn't uncommon to commune with the milky light of the moon as it shown through the sheer curtains of my childhood bedroom.

I suppose it's fitting that my soulmate, too, has a love for the sky. I wonder if he's friends with the moon in that same way. Childlike innocence held over with white knuckles while tucked under blankets, anything to fend off the monsters turned Sunday scaries.

I let my eyes trail over his frame, though I can't make out much. Only the back of his head, with his clean, Navy regulation hair cut. He is that dishwater blond that Rhett is, hair shining with a slick coat of gel to keep his bangs out of his eyes. Bob wears his flight suit, which gives me absolutely no clue into his world of personal style. But, I like the way it stretches over the expanse of his shoulders and down the broadness of his back. The slick-ish green material pulling taught over the the caps of his shoulders as he slumps forward a bit.

Sitting alone like he is almost makes him look like a little kid who got into trouble at recess. He keeps his hands tucked in front of him, the picture of polite as he waits for his next instruction. Maybe it's instinct, maybe it's Navy issued, either way he's all patience and clean corners tucked into a military grade flight suit.

The sight of my father leaning down in front of Bob pulls me back to reality. He wears a kind smile, that same one he used to wear at father-daughter dances and parent-teacher conferences. That smile belongs wholly to my father- Cyclone: the Admiral is no where to be seen. It's strange, for a moment he almost looks out of place in his uniform, but I don't have time to dwell on that fact.

Pete is pulling Jake towards me, a hand on his collar.

"I'm telling you right now, Jake," Maverick punctuates his seriousness with the use of Jake's first name, "You are going to go easy on Bob, alright?"

"I think he's a lot stronger than you give him credit for," Jake shoots back, nudging Pete in the ribs with his elbow. "I know we all joke around and treat Bob like he's the kid of the group, but he's worked just as hard as the rest of the team to be here. He deserves it. There's no doubt in my mind that he won't take this in stride,"

"This isn't like you, Hangman," Pete chuckles, punching him playfully in the chest, "If I didn't know any better I'd think there's a heart in there somewhere,"

"You're forgetting I'm practically engaged to your son, you know," Jake is all jest and shinning eyes as he looks down at the shorter man.

"The word practically gives me pause,"

The moment between the men is as sweet as it is endearing, but my heartbeat threatens to take over my senses again. Anxiety swirls like thick smoke, overtaking my lungs and burning my eyes. I can feel myself tearing up.

"I can appreciate the father-in-law son-in-law bonding that's happening right now, but in case you two have forgotten I am this fucking close to losing it," I hold my fingers up for emphasis, my pointer dangerously close to my thumb, "Watching y'all, I feel like the lunatics are running the asylum,"

"Dangerously accurate," Pete laughs, earning a scowl from me. I turn to Jake for some sort of help. Standing here, the seconds ticking down, I feel myself wavering.

"So, this is it?"

"This is it," Pete echoes, unhelpfully, "You've got this, Little Bird,"

Pete uses that as his exit, patting Jake on the arm as he leaves. I don't turn to watch him walk away. My eyes are somewhere on the center of Jake's chest, but the images are all muddled and glassy. He takes my hand in his own, thumbing over the ridges of my fingers.

"Walking into love, eyes wide open, I promise," Jake's susurrus voice barely audible over the blood rushing through my ears. Gently, he guides me down the aisle between the tables. It seems a million miles from here to there, a sentiment I've only ever heard brides use. Then, he's stopping me a row back from where Bob is seated, still talking to my father. Jake himself does not stop, instead going to stand next to my father.

"You got it from here, Lieutenant?" My father asks, turning his quirked eyebrow Jake's direction.

"I do," Jake confirms confidently, his hands coming down to rest palm down on the tabletop in front of Bob.

"Alright then," My father straightens up, "I'll see you in a few minutes, Lt. Seresin. Have a good night, Lt. Floyd,"

From my new vantage point, I can see a sliver of Bob's side profile. A clean shaven jaw gives way to a long, pale neck. He wears glasses, that little fact feels more concrete than anything else up unto this moment. Robert Floyd wears glasses- those Navy issued, Birth Control Goggles that I've always had an affinity for.

Once when I was a kid, I had asked my father why the Navy glasses were hated. I liked them, truly. They reminded me of the vintage models in my mother's old magazines- and that look was the height of fashion circa 1976. My mother had a love for all things vintage fashion, and I developed a love for a well dressed man whilst looking over her shoulder. My father's response to the question was nothing that made sense until I understood exactly how cruel people could be.

"What's going on, Hangman?" There's a round quality to Bob's accent, though it is decidedly more formal than Rhett's.

"I'm getting to that, Baby on Board," Jake chuckles, leaning closer to Bob effectively keeping the other man's eyes on him, "Close your eyes,"

"Close my eyes? Yeah, right," Bob scoffs, "I think I learned better when it comes to you, all the way back when we were kids. Nice try. Now, tell me, what's goin' on?"

I watch Jake's smile bloom larger on his face, but he doesn't spare a glance my direction. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, nervous energy threatening to boil over. Even though energy buzzes under my skin, I want nothing more than to hear Bob speak again.

"Seriously Robby," The nickname makes me almost laugh. It's said with just a dash of sweetness, something closer to fond. Bob lets out a slightly exasperated sigh. "Close'em up,"

"I swear to god, Seresin, if this is some sort of overdue hazing or some other bullshit I am going to kick your ass," Bob grumbles, but must closes his eyes by the pleased look reflecting on Jake's features.

"It's not, honest," Jake swears, a hand placed over his heart. I watch the pair as I rock back and fourth. It's a gentle movement, anything to keep myself from crawling out of my skin. "And you and I both know that you couldn't kick my ass if you tried," Bob looks like he's going to retort, but instead he sinks down a little further in his seat with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, get on with it," Bob mumbles, his shoulders dipping a bit.

"Will you take this seriously, please, Robby," There's that nickname again. Jake's words are met with a low grumble about how he really is taking something absolutely ridiculous as seriously as he can. "Let me ask you somethin'"

"Alright," Bob shrugs his shoulders, his uniform wrinkling under his movement. Bob is so apprehensive, rightfully so. Jake is still looking down at him, hands pressed to the table. The look Jake has painted across his face is nothing short of mischievous, a look that I would not want to be on the receiving end of, for fear of trouble.

"Now, no matter what I ask, you've gotta keep your eyes closed, alright?"

"Okay, alright, Jake. I get it, eyes are to remain closed,"

Then Jake is waving me over with a flick of his wrist. There is still a wide smile across his cheeks which makes it a fraction harder to say no. Still, I shake my head, eyes wide, trying to deny his request. He huffs out a sigh when I manage to scoot myself less than two steps closer. A second later he is crossing over to me, taking my hand in his again. He guides me back to where he was standing before, in front of Bob.

I can see his whole face now.

From the tender slope of his nose to his dusty brown lashes, the first thing that strikes me is just how kind he looks. I take in the gentle wave of his hair and the way it's pushed back from his eyes. I wonder what is would look like without all the product. Would it slope down onto his forehead, the obvious wave more prominent? From here, though his features are so similar to Rhett's, he looks so incredibly different. There is a softness to Bob that I wouldn't have expected. The points where Rhett is hard lines and calloused skin, Bob is undisturbed water, crystal clear and inviting.

Robert Floyd looks nothing like the idea of men I have come to picture in my head: the ideal man outlined for me since childhood. Those men were all beefy hands and square jaws, sharp lines that lead to a commanding presence. Instead, Bob is lean muscle and something so unbelievably oneiric. He is soft in the way the best things are, seafoam and clouds, the feeling of coming home. It's strange, really, the settled feeling that makes a home near my diaphragm. It's all delicate revelation.

The anxiety still lingers in my extremities, dancing through my thighs and down to my toes just to accompany the pulsing feeling in my fingertips.

And suddenly, I want to know everything. The dam breaks, cracks running through the concrete that held back my terse reaction and adjunct feeling of crumbling resolve.

The tears come fast and unexpected, the only thing keeping in a surprised gasp is my hands cupped over my mouth. Get it together, get it together, get it together! Those are the only words going through my head, accompanied by the sound of blood rushing though my ears. Jake grazes his knuckles over the exposed skin of my arm, his expression still as kind as ever. He doesn't take his eyes off me when he addresses Bob again.

"I had a point brought up to me today, about the whole soulmate thing," It's a start. Jake looks like he's hunting for the words, "And I'm embarrassed about it. I mean, it makes so much sense and I can't have you looking at me when I admit this,"

Jake is really hamming it up, leaning into this whole bit. I'm not sure if it's to ease my anxiety or if it's to mess with Bob, but either way I don't care. I am stuck standing here, in front of my person and will listen to every word that leaves Jake's lips if it means I get to look at Bob unbothered for a few more moments.

God, he's pretty. His lips look soft, even though they are lightly sun kissed. Or maybe that's just their natural color. His cheeks match, though. A stained sort of blush that looks like crushed berries. I want to trace the ridge of his cupids bow with the tip of my nose, a precursor to a kiss that is a long time coming. I want to wear that raspberry stain on my skin, too.

"Okay..." Bob's tone is nothing short of patient. "My eyes are still closed, I promise. Go on when you're ready,"

"The thought is this: people begin a life with their soulmate with their eyes closed, blinders on. They jump into something purely because something in the universe deemed it that way. I wonder what would happen if we walked into the whole thing with our eyes open instead of falling blindly, or out of obligation," Jake is summing up the sentiment well. He hits each detail in a way that threatens to make my head spin to hear them out in the open like that. It's one thing to admit those things out loud, but hearing them fall from someone else's lips is dizzying.

"That's the thing, Jake, I don't think it's all out of obligation," I suck in a deep breath at those words, holding it hard within my lungs. Jake looks at me with a knowing sort of look that doesn't make holding in this breath any less of a necessity. It's a few more seconds before I finally let go, the breath escaping my lungs slowly.

"What do you mean?" Jake probes further, doing his best to hide the joy in his tone. If Bob notices, he doesn't say anything.

"Just because we've got these words doesn't mean it dictates our future. Anyone who tells you different is drinking the Kool-Aid. I mean, I hope more than anything that my person wants me just as much as I want them, but the words don't make it so. It also doesn't mean shit the other way. Things can work out even if your words don't match up, because that's not what love is, Jake," Bob's tone has turned soft now, a care laced into his words. He takes his glasses from his face, setting them down onto the tabletop so he can rub at his still closed eyes. His expression is still soft, though he moves to rub his temples.

"Love is a choice. Plain and simple. I mean, look at my parents. You know they don't have each other's words, but they are the most in-love people I've ever seen. The universe didn't do that, they did. It was a choice they made every single day, to wake up and love each other and build that life together. And so, if you're worried about everything with Rooster, you don't have to be. Not as long as you wake up every day, love each other and build a life together, whatever that looks like for you,"

"So," Jake's words are interrupted by the smile growing on his face. His cheeks are red from the force it takes to smile so big, but he doesn't seem to mind. "Great love is walking in to it with eyes wide open?"

"That's exactly what it means," Bob confirms, bringing his hands back to his lap. At his confirmation, the world seems to slow. Each second lasts longer than the previous, the beating of my heart the only thing out of sync now. Tick, tick, ti-thump thump tick. Jake squeezes my shoulder, keeping his eyes firmly on me once again.

"There's something else I have to tell you, Robby," The joy in Jake's voice is palpable, warm like sunshine on skin. The ever-present burning feeling mellows to this. That static burn of the sun shinning from high in the sky, enough to turn skin hot with blush. "Birdie's here,"

The room goes almost silent, save for the sounds of Bob's deep, uncertain breathes. A moment passes. Then another. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. For the first moment I consider my attire, a white t-shirt and jeans. Could've been worse. At least it's something else to think about other than counting moments, minutes, heartbeats or breathes.

"Excuse me?" The words are taught, leaving an equally tight throat. Bob sounds almost pained, somewhere in the rigidness of his tone. Bob cracks his eyes open, reaching for his glasses. He slots them back into place on his nose, adjusting them with his long fingers.

That's something else concrete; the cleanliness of Bob's nails. I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the thought, after all, I'm taking comfort in something so silly. Anything to distract from the pulsing of anxiety.

Bob looks up, his pupils dilating as he refocuses to the light of the hanger. His eyes focus on Jake first, his expression something I can't quite read. Then his eyes flick to me. The best thing I can offer him is a sheepish smile but it makes Bob cock is head to the side like a confused animal. Like things will make more sense at forty-five degrees.

"Robert Floyd, Birdie Simpson," Jake introduces us as easy as if he were introducing two friends. "Birdie, this is Just Bob," That part is accompanied by wink and a hint of a chuckle.

"I shoulda hit you," I grumble, dashing a glace over to Jake. His laughter fills the room, bastard. Bob doesn't move, his head still cocked to the side as if he's trying to make sense of it all, dot the I's, cross the T's, but his mental pen's out of ink. I watch his gaze bounce between Jake and I a couple times as he flounders. His eyes are a notch wider than what I would consider normal, the delicate blue of them shining like ocean baubles under the florescence of the hanger.

"Well, say somethin' to 'er Robby!" Jake's drawl sneaks out with his desperation. He holds his hands out, almost like he's trying to display me to Bob, the only thing that's missing is the jazz hands. I am clutching the material of my jeans in tight, sweaty fists. This whole thing is going somehow worse than I had anticipated, even through Jake's good natured exchange and I can't help feeling exposed.

Jake mumbles out a "See, no tellin' if he's wise," just barely loud enough for me to hear. It's supposed to be a comfort, I suppose, but the limbo look I find myself locked in keeps my nerves from settling.

A sound akin to scrambled vowels escapes Bob's lips. His eyes widen impossibly further, his cheeks going crimson . That same color accompanies the skin around his collar. It would be an endearing sight if he didn't look so totally mortified. His expression isn't at all comfortable, mirroring the exact feeling zinging underneath my skin. This wasn't how this was supposed to go... God, this is so much worse.

The universe could have delt us better cards. All happy smiles and those movie reel, airport hugs that knock the wind out of you. Those Hollywood kisses with hands cupping faces accompanied by breathless words. I've been waiting for you. You look beautiful. I can't believe you're finally here in my arms. But that's not this. After all, the only hand the universe has wields a pen. The moment the words are wrote, we are on our own, ink stained and pleading.

"I don't think you were ready for this- either of us," I correct myself, "So, I uh... I think I'm just going to go," I start backing up slowly, heading for the back door of the hanger. I can't place the look Bob gives me, but it makes my stomach twist. "I'm sorry, again. To all three of you,"

"Birdie, please don't-" The door slams behind me, cutting Jake's words off. The chill of the outside air rapidly cools my heated skin. It's still California, but with the sun barely visible over the horizon, the air is cool.

Tears are rapidly forming in my eyes, though I don't exactly feel like crying. Instead, its the feeling of insurmountable stress weighing on my nervous system. Out of everything I am feeling, I can only name the things I don't want to experience because of the emotions wrecking through my body.

Though I don't want to cry, my body doesn't seem to be getting the message as fat tears dribble onto my cheeks. I don't feel like running, which in itself makes me chuckle. Usually, when things get hard I want to disappear, take time to figure out exactly what's going on. It's why I've been away from my father for so long to begin with, and why I ran from Rhett and Jake at the airport. What has always taken me distance to see is coming through remarkable clear this close up.

Maybe I should be broken hearted, or maybe I already am and whatever this fucking feeling buzzing in my chest is only serves as temporary cover. I can't hold back the laughter that vibrates through me. After all of the stock I put into meeting my soulmate, my person, and it having gone down just like a sinking ship only serves to make one thing so perfectly crystal clear. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. It has me turning on my heel and headed right back through that door.

Jake and Rhett haven't moved too far in the minute or so I've been gone. Jake is still standing in front of the table, looking down at Bob who now has his head buried in his hands. His glasses are pushed up his face, balancing oddly over his forehead.

"Birdie?" Jake questions, voice louder than necessary. Bob lifts his face from his hands, his glasses falling back crookedly over his nose. I ignore Jake's question along with his gaze, my sights firmly squared on Bob.

"Could that have gone worse?"

Bob still wears that deer in the headlights look, eyes like flashbulbs, but he finds his voice. "Statistically? Yes,"

Jake mumbles an oh, for Christ's sake to himself but doesn't say anything forthcoming. My hands cup my own face, palms cool against my still hot skin as I cross the concrete to stand in front of the table. Bob watches my each and every move until he is looking up at me from his seat wearing a mimic furrowed brow. My hands make homes of my jean pockets once more.

"For us I mean," I offer more criteria, "I mean, we really didn't say much to each other, so it's not like we could have said something to offend one another. There hasn't been time to make an impression besides the minute or so of blatant staring. No body threw up, or fainted, or cried. I didn't dump a cup of hot coffee on your lap or anything. Hell, I even had a friend meet her soulmate after they got into a car accident. So really, Bobby, could this have gone worse?

There's a sort of dry chuckle to my words, a humor that's been left out in the wind too long. We've officially made it past the beginning now, that much I know to be true, and there is already so much comfort in that fact.

Bob looks to be pondering over my words for a moment before a small, cheeky smirk makes a home on his lips. I can't help but mirror that smile.

"Well, when you put it that way," Bob places his hands on the tabletop, pushing himself to his feet, "I think that was probably the worst we could have managed. Considering the circumstances, what do you think?"

"I think we faired alright," I offer, "Could have been better, but life's good at hitting you right in the kneecaps,"

Bob smiles widely at me, and this time it's me who's looking up. Bob is tall, just like Rhett, but looking up at the man in front of me is so much sweeter. He thrusts his hand out, offering it to me, "Robert Floyd,"

I wrap my hand around his, squeezing, "Birdie Simpson,"

"You two do know that I did this already, right?" Jake interjects. Neither Bob nor I turn to look at the blond, his presence all but forgotten.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Birdie," Bob's voice is smooth, anxiety hidden in the upturn of his smile. God, he's got a nice smile.

"Likewise, Lieutenant," I stick my tongue out at him playfully, nose scrunched.

"No, absolutely not," Bob still holds my hand in his, "If this is going to be anything other than friendly acquaintances, you don't get to call me that here,"

"Here?" The question belongs solely to Jake.

"Then what can I call you?" It's all mischief.

"Let's start with Bobby, I quite liked that," He admits, his cheeks flushing again, this time it's gentle. The blush that overtakes his skin isn't out of embarrassment, instead it's out of a new found fondness. I can feel it creeping up on my own skin.

"Alright, Bobby,"

"It's Robby..." Jake interjects once more, this time earning a glance from Bob.

"Maybe to you and the family, but to Birdie here, it's Bobby," Bob explains, as if he hasn't just decided that fact for himself. "Don't you have to go meet up with the squad and Admiral Kazansky?"

Its more of a get out of here than it is an actual question. Jake seems to miss the scram message hidden in the kindness of Bob's tone.

"Uh... Not technically. Everyone is actually going to the Hard Deck. Pops called off the hop. Figured you wouldn't want to be flyin' after this and we couldn't let Phoenix without her back seater,"

At the explanation, I finally pull my eyes from Bob to look at Jake with an unimpressed expression. "What I think Bob's trying to say is get lost,"

"Well, yes. But nicer than that," Bob tries to offer at Jake's open mouthed surprise.

"I know he talked me down today," I gesture to Jake, "But, I don't think he deserves nice. Have you ever sat next to that man on a plane? God, he bounced his leg the whole time! I thought he was going to buzz right out of his skin,"

"You should hear him over coms while he's actually the only piloting," Bob laughs under his breath, "He's sort of insufferable,"

"That's not a surprise, but at least Rhett's not up there with you. I was stuck in between the of of 'em the whole damn trip,"

"Oh god, both of them?" Bob asks, his thumb stroking over my own. He still holds my hand, slightly awkwardly over the table but I don't care. In fact, he is so warm and I want him to hold me closer.

"Both of them," I confirm with a wry smile.

"In that case, scram Bagman," Bob laughs, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

He holds his hands up in defense, "You don't have to tell me twice. I know when I'm not wanted," We watch Jake walk away for a moment before turning back to look at each other once again.

"I can't believe you grew up with him," I laugh. Bob laughs too, almost like he's in agreement. After the laughter dies down, we stand there in silence for a few moments. In times like this I would usually be counting down the tick of the clock but for once I am totally wrapped up in the present. That's when Bob clears his throat.

"I owe you an apology," Bob leaves no room for me to brush off his words, "I'm sorry I handled that as poorly as I did. I was caught off guard and then made a fool of myself. I'm not trying to make excuses, I really am sorry, Birdie," At the end of his apology, Bob's eyes slip from my face, a blush taking over his own.

"Oh Bobby," I squeeze his hand, pulling his gaze back to my own. "You don't need to apologize. That's not how I was expecting things to happen. Jake make the choice and I just let it happen. I think I should be apologizing to you. So, I'm sorry,"

"Apology accepted," Bob smiles.

"Apology accepted," I return. In that moment we settle into the quiet again, but it doesn't last very long.

"So," Bob starts again, a bit unsure of his words.

"So?"

"Do you think we've got a chance at this? The crash and burn beginning behind us?" Bob looks so damn hopeful. I can't help but swoon the second that look it turned down to meet my eyes.

"Let's look at the facts. You're a WSO, so you're already trusting, brilliant, a hard worker. I grew up a Navy brat, so I know what this life looks like. I'm not a stranger to the deployments or the work that has to happen for something like this to work out. I've got no where I have to be, nothing committed to. Hell, I was coming home, technically, the home being where your family is or whatever. And you already know my father, so there's no awkward introduction there. I already know Rhett, and Jake, not to mention I'm just a few members short of having met your whole team. I live out of a fucking duffle bag of fucks sake," The words spill from my mouth with no abandon. Bob just listens, a dopey smile drawn over his lips. "All things considered, I think we've got a good chance. I hear it's all about making the choice to make it all work,"

Its not totally clear if Bob picks up the little joke because the smile on his face hasn't faltered. Neither has his hand, still holding my own, even through my little speech. Carefully, Bob uses his free hand to adjust his frames over his nose so they sit a little bit straighter.

"What do you say we get out of here? Dinner maybe?" He offers, eyebrows raised. He looks a little nervous. I offer him my nicest smile. "And then we can talk more about all this,"

"That depends, Lieutenant, are you going to wear the flight suit?" I flirt shamelessly. It's met with that confused look that I've already come to recognize, though his head only tilts about fifteen degrees this time.

"Uh, no? I was going to change before we left," Oh sweet, sweet Bobby.

"I know," I giggle, "I was flirting with you,"

"Oh," The blush crawls across his skin again. I want to kiss every bit it colors.

"I can't believe you outed the fact that you have a rank kink in front of your friend and wingman, but you can't pick up when I'm flirting with you," I pull my hand from his, only to hit him playfully in the chest.

Bob's eyes go wide again, "Oh my god, did I?"

"You did," I confirm through laughter, watching Bob go from pink to red. "Now go get changed, I've gotta hear more about that,"

"Okay, okay," Bob holds his hands up in defense, walking himself out into the aisle between the tables. "One thing, first,"

"What's that?" Bob just holds his hand out to me, beckoning me into the aisle with him. I take it, rounding around the table to stand in front of him. He is taller now, this close. He looks down at me over the bottom wire of his glasses, a cheeky smile on his features.

"I'd like to kiss you first, if that's alright," He leans closer and closer with each whispered word. The last thing I see before my eyes slip closed is the still pink tint to Bob's cheeks, the same tint that matches the gentle blush of his sun kissed lips.

"You better," I mumble, our lips meeting a moment after. Bob's hands snake around my body, fingers threading through the beltloops at the the back of my hips. I wrap my fingers around his collar, clutching onto the fabric, holding him close. The kiss is all gentle, though there is so much warmth taking over my skin from his touch. It burns like new flame, the kind that gives light to the future. To our future, together, tangled in each other's embrace.

That first kiss is a brand new beginning taking flight. The first beginning I don't want to end.

TAGLIST

@kmc1989 @inky-sun @harperdoodle @possiblyexisting @eloquentdreamer @ravenwtfbro @jessicab1991 @muddwheelz123

#saltsicklover #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd angst #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd soulmate au #soulmate bob floyd #top gun soulmate au #ftrftf

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undercoverpena · 1 year

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vi. believe in us

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter six of nowhere to run

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. hints at smut. jo-feels. feelings realisation. things are getting deeeeep. Wordcount: 7.1k an: i know people tell me not to apologise for the length, but i'm trying to follow the episodes hahaha. if there are errors, i'm sorry. pls forgive me. as always, huge thank you to @yeyinde who loves these characters as much as me and to @guyfieriii who lets me chew their ear off about them far too much to be real.

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“Fuck, I can’t believe he knows we’re…”

We’re.

Barely a millisecond goes by, but time slows.

“We’re?”

“Having fun.”

He feels his shoulders shrink, the earlier annoyance melting as if it was nothing—like it was never there. Replaced by something far harder to stomach, something which wrapped around his insides and yet didn’t constrict to hurt, just hung loosely, torturously there.

“Cariño, I think we’re having a bit more than fun…”

You throw him a sharp look—one made from a mixture of ice and a blade. “It’s not going to matter what we’re doing, not now he knows.”

But, what are we doing? He wants to ask, mouth opening all set to. His hand rising, thumb swiping over his bottom lip, tightening his jaw as he realises this isn’t the time.

Not from the anxious way you’re biting at your lower lip, not in the way you’re hugging your arms close—not in how you occasionally flick your eyes to him, panic swirling, mixing with something he’s not sure he has the answers to help with.

It’s hard not to stare at the cup on your desk.

The one sitting amongst the mindless chatter that blends with the dull, constant noise of a phone ringing and surrounded by the sounds of tapping—all at different speeds, intensities and types. The sounds circle around the speckles of dust, the ones swirling in with the sunlight, desperate to get in from the outside.

Light tries, with all of its might, to kiss away the darkness. The one which clings to the walls. The dark wood, the walls—even the blinds. Desk lights are a permanent fixture if you plan to do anything but squint. Not that you mind.

You don’t need the sun to warm your cheeks, just the cup and its implications.

The one grabbed in between dropping you home and him heading into the office; the one already waiting for you to get in. Your skin is still damp from your rushed shower—your body still sore from spending a night with him.

It's easy, when it shouldn’t be—sleeping with him, your boss. All casual, fun and no strings but a whole twisted bundle of mess, too. One that would be so easy to worsen or fix.

The coffee inside that cup doesn’t alleviate any of it.

Not even as you try to tell yourself it’s nothing. The same way you do when you’re in the middle of something, and your eyes catch his, finding his usually coiffed hair has become frayed at the edges. It makes you want to go in and soothe away whatever has forced him to play with it. But you don’t, trying to hold yourself back—knowing what happens when you usually enter his office.

“Everyone else has gone home.”“They have.” “So, do you want to have sex on your desk again?” He studies you, eyes dark, thumb tracing his jaw as you slide the fabric of your skirt up. Catching his brow raising, feeling your way up his tie, his body subconsciously moving between your legs. “Let you do it from behind this time,” you whisper. He turns you, running a hand up the back of your thigh, the other gripping your hip.“You thought about it… fucking me from behind, leaning over your desk?” His lips curl, breath along your cheek. “Every time your eyes look at me through the fucking blinds.”

It had been messy since he’d showed up at your place, even if Javi hadn’t come to your house again. Instead, it’s his place—the office becoming risky. Even if the memories remain, to the point you’re unable to even be in the file room without some reminder flashing behind your eyes or hearing him whisper into your ear, Anyone else made you moan right here, cariño.

The coffee had begun appearing on your desk when he dropped you off at home before heading in. A pretence, a suitable cover story. Arriving in two cars, leaving in two—no one knowing he drives to yours half an hour after he’s left to pick you up.

You rarely have to miss the way he buries his nose close to your ear; how he lets his lips whisper silk into them—his broad chest hugging your spine. You barely have to think about his mouth between your thighs, you get to experience it. Not nightly, but close.

“You gonna be quiet?”You pause, silence blanketing the two of them before you whisper, “No.”

You’re in too deep, that much is known.

The house of cards the two of you had poorly built, were waiting to fall and crush you. The line having become so blurred and so knitted with emotions, you’re suddenly worrying why you’re not desperate to run from them.

Because you don’t want serious.

Having continued this because he never seemed the type. Wouldn’t have let it get so far if he did.

Now, you were finding it hard not to let yourself slip. Not just because he cared or because he toed doing right and wrong, or even because he was handsome. But rather, that there was something undeniably easy about him. It’s more than simple charm and grit—more than lingering eyes across a room and a feeling that blooms like wildfires in a field of nothing.

You wonder if he knows, senses it: your unease. The way you flitter between letting him and banishing him. It’s why you stare at the coffee, unsure if today you should drink it. Reading the label, seeing no note—knowing there never is one. There not needing to be one.

You know who purchased you the coffee. The same one who you sense behind you before he speaks, the one you stand up and turn to face—grabbing the white cup in your palm as you stare at him.

Letting anger bubble to the surface, replacing the other emotions, the ones you spend far too much energy fighting than resolving.

“I know what you’ve done.”

Javi has the decency to look taken back.

Even if you know each microexpression—having become literate in Peña, both the faux and the real.

Stepping back, he cocks his head. An invite into his office, as if you ever needed one before. But, you follow—perfectly in step, able to read his body as if the two of you were back under the sheets.

“What have I done then, cariño?”

“Don’t butter me up, Peña.” Lifting the cup in a demonstration, halting his smile before it grows into a smirk—half-wondering if you’ve been added to the list of women who have. “You think I wouldn’t hear about the phone tap?”

His eyes narrow, jaw tightening. “Stoddard…”

“I know shit, Peña.”

Stepping closer, you take a sip of the coffee. Instantly, you hate him for how good it tastes. That you know it’s from the place near yours, the one you foolishly told him about and now keeps going.

Shaking your head, you sigh. “Stop hiding things from me.”

“I wasn’t… fuck, you’re good.”

“I know. Wish you’d stop being surprised by it.”

His smirk always meets his eyes. Spreads across his cheeks—smoothing out worry lines and creates ones of beauty in its place. It’s hard not to notice, not with the way his eyes shimmer and how his lustful gaze wraps you in honey.

“I’m not.”

Narrowing your eyes, you exhale. Loudly. Moving around him, staring over his desk—the many more files added onto the pile he hasn’t cleared, taking another sip.

“You are, and it’s deeply upsetting. I can’t take bullets for you, if you don’t tell me we’re going to be shot at.” Your hand picking up a file, shoving it into his chest. “Do I make myself clear?”

His thumb swipes over his bottom lip, not hiding the way his eyes look you up and down. Slowly. Almost trawling them up and down you, lighting you on fire in the same way his tongue did last night.

“Maybe I should have sent you to Cali? Have the rest of them caught before they know what hit them.”

Your lips curl, a coldness falling over you—a twist in your chest, one you can’t fault him for, knowing he couldn’t be to blame.

“Javi, you’d stop me before I even got in the air,” you bite back, the tease evident but the usual tone removed. “You’d miss having something to fuck other than your fist.”

Sometimes, the day drags on, and others it hurls nothing but surprises.

Today, you arrived to find both a coffee and a piece of fruit—making you smile so broadly that even Stoddard noticed.

You blame that for the reason you don’t stop him from taking you by the elbow hours later—the first sign which should have rang alarm bells. Javi pulls you with him, saying nothing—feeling warm fingers along your elbow that make your heart skip a beat.

He leads you right through his doorway, your file clutching to your chest. It’s not until the door slides shut behind him do you realise all your thoughts are diluted, muted. His presence doing that. That and the fucking scent of him. The one you’ve come to despise washing from your skin the moment he drops you off, so the two of you can continue the story that he doesn’t spend random nights of the week fucking you into his mattress.

The scent of him clings, a fixture. One which mixes so easily with the air, your nose becomes desperate to take it all in, as though if you don’t, it’ll all be wasted.

You wait for him to shut the blinds, and enjoy a stolen moment, but find you watch as his hands slide to his hips. An unsettling feeling unwinding from a dark corner. Knotting, needling into you as you try to level your breathing.

“Javi…”

“Is Stoddard’s job meant to be yours?”

You notice his eyes don't move. Paying attention, fixated on your micro-expressions.

“The day you first spoke to me. I asked you what they—“

Running your tongue across your teeth, you straighten your spine. “You asked what they gave me.”

They cut, your words. Slice straight through whatever it is he’s implying. Halting whatever else was due to fall from his lips, stopping him from speaking as his lips clamp together, pinning him in place.

He lifts his chin, a hand coming to brush over his jaw and neck. “Were you offered Stoddard’s job, cariño?”

You swallow, somehow able to keep your face unchanged even if your fingers twitch, your back relaxing, before you shake your head. It's easier to look away, the festering acerbity doubling as you turn your back to him.

“Yes.”

He snorts. It's loud, quickly followed by the sound of his shirt moving as he likely runs his fingers through his hair.

“Fuck. Why—why didn’t you… you should have told me. You fuckin' lied—“

You don't bother to smother the fury in your eyes, you throw it at him, burn him with it. “No. I didn’t lie, Peña. You asked what they gave me, implying I took it. I didn’t take it. I declined it, I resigned myself to shitting desk duty and let him have it.”

His face doesn't change, not even under your stare. “You should have taken it.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re fuckin' good, you’re… you do the right thing, you know everything that goes on in this place, cariño—“

“I’d have taken it. If I had earned it,” you spit, looking him up and down. “I’d have ripped it out of their goddamn hands and plastered my fucking name on that desk. But, it wasn’t offered to me because I’m good, because I know what I’m doing. It's a trap, a way to get me to stop... pushing, stop finding things. And you know it. You must do. Read all about it in the fuckin' file you have on me."

It’s instant, the way his stare softens, panic spreading in his eyes. The way your words make him lose his breath, the tension shifting and transforming into something wounded—uprooted from the growing rage and apparent injustice he felt he’d faced.

Smirking, you lick your own lips. "Yeah, Javi, I know about that too.”

He drops his arm, moving towards you, with no emotion in your eyes. “I don’t know shit because you won’t tell me.”

You stare, coldly. Taking a second, a moment. Already knowing he can tell you’re rattled, stressed. You’ve allowed him to get close enough to be able to tell. He knows what makes you tick, what undoes you—what makes you go from one to a hundred.

Transferring his skill at reading people to you, likely creating some encyclopaedia solely dedicated to just your micro-expressions. In the same way, he has written mental papers about what a flick of his tongue or a nip of his teeth can do. Never mind the little things that make up your mood.

“Lemme guess, Stechner?” you ask, folding your arms as he nods. “Maybe you should ask him why they wanted me to take the job, Peña. Because I’m not the one who lied.”

He sighs, nothing being said as you slowly swallow.

“I can’t tell you shit—I… I thought I made that clear.”

“You can tru—“

“It’s not about trust, Peña.”

It comes out harsher, more like fire than ice.

Sunshine yellow, splintered sobs, carmine-stained palms… whimpered pleading, panicked breaths. Blood-splattered walls and shredded bedding…

You sigh too, softer, less loud. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I may not tell you everything, but…” You roll your lips, staring around the glass room. “Fuck, I can’t believe he knows we’re…”

We’re.

Barely a millisecond goes by, but time slows.

“We’re?”

“Having fun.”

The words hurry out, even if you hate them. They’re not the right descriptors, but you’re not sure which ones would be better. Not now. Not when it had gone too far. With true having already slithered its way through openings that shouldn’t exist. Having moulded itself into creating something less carnal and more needed. So much so, the list of excuses are running short, finding only reasons why you keep letting him in then why you should keep him away.

The truth of it all is so easily there, simmering and ready. Yet, you don’t allow them to escape, not needing to show him your hand—to let him see how easy it has been to weave under your walls and layers. Especially when you’ve spent so much time keeping him out.

Then you see his eyes, how they’re wide but hardened, his lips clamped together, tight. Your walls are threatening to quiver and fall at the sight.

“Cariño, I think we’re having a bit more than fun…”

“It’s not going to matter what we’re doing, not now he knows.”

You watch as his mouth opens, but no words come. Just his hand rising, thumb swiping over his bottom lip as his jaw tightens—sliding from side to side.

Shaking your head, you banish it—what his words would have been, what they could have been. The back of your hand against your forehead. “Shit…”

“What?”

You laugh. More hysterical, more out of surprise and acidic emotions as you process—slower than normal, going as far as to pinch your forearm to see if it’s real.

“He has me over a barrel. One wrong move… it all comes down.”

Javi steps closer to you, fingers on your cheek, lifting your eyes to his. “Wait, what?”

You don’t mean it, the look of disbelief, but it flurries across your face—unable to mask it quickly enough. “C’mon, Javi, you don’t think now if you defend me, if you argue with them, ask them for anything related to me, they won’t think it’s because I snaked my way into your bed? Because newsflash, that’s how things work, Javi. Women—good women—get plastered with only being half as good because of the company they keep.”

You run a hand over your mouth as you pull away from him, slowly sinking down into a chair as you bury your face.

For a second, you can hear him not move, just breathing. A sound you’re so used to finding calming as night blankets his room. When you’re frozen out of fear of waking him. Now you’re frozen because you're unsure what to do. No plan B. No get-out clause you’ve created for yourself.

“Cariño…”

“You don’t get it, Javi. You haven’t dated someone in your workplace and had them gossip about you like women have. When you fuck around, you’re a hero. If I do it, if women do it….” His jaw tightens, all noticeable, running his own fingers over his chin. “It doesn’t matter if I’m good, I’m not a man. It’s why I was the one gossiping about when things ended with Chris, when I got back from Cali and was deemed unstable. Now, sleeping with you?”

“Hey—“

“You know, if he fucked his way through the department, no one would bat an eyelid. I do it, I’m trying to sleep my way to the top.”

He moves, crouching before you, pressing his hand over the top of your knee. “But you’re not.”

Smiling, you sigh softly, leaning back into the chair. “No. No, I’m not.”

He tightens his hand on yours.

“You have places to be...”

He looks at you through his lashes, whispering your name. Making it sound gentle, nice.

Blinking, you harden your face. Tightening your jaw as you lift your chin. “I don’t need your pity, Javi. I… I’m a grown woman, who I choose to fuck shouldn’t matter, not when it’s nothing serious—“

“—Look—“

“—I just need you to do your job, Peña.” You stand, his hand falling from your knee, face void, empty. Expression wiped from all corners of his face. “Because all of this, between us, isn’t worth undoing all the work we’ve done—you have done.”

Your feet move you to the door on shaky legs, hands almost trying to tremble by your sides—clamped down firmly at your sides to stop them. Thinking of Cali, thinking of her.

Graffiti-covered walls; scarlet clinging to matted curls.

He says your name. Calls it louder than he should—the one he whispers when he’s holding you in place on top of him, the one he groans against your ear when you’re pinned under his weight.

It’s different hearing it here—with a vulnerable tinge to it, a pleading one. It’s why you don’t stop..

Sunshine yellow, splintered sobs, carmine-stained palms…

You hate yourself—that you let it merge into this, let it develop, twist and mature.

Leaving before he finished a meeting, heading home and turning out the lights as wine soaked your throat in the dark. It was easier, you lied to yourself—feeling the hole opening up inside of you as you tried to sew yourself closed.

He doesn’t avoid you, like you try to avoid him.

Involving you, pulling you in to listen to the wiretap as though you’ll have some added opinion on it—an insight they’ve not thought of. Your argument-not-argument mouldering in the corner, Stoddard blissfully unaware. Either that or he’s become a good actor.

Your silence is telling, not meeting his eyes is a further statement.

A slither of you mad that instead of admitting he means something, you try and convince yourself it’s the exact opposite. Further worsening it when you allow him to leave, to go—on some inane advice that has been drilling a hole in your chest since the moment he left.

“Where are you off too?”“Gonna give something a push.”It drops, plummets—your gut. Lands right at your feet in a mess you’re not sure how to clean up. Shuffling the transcripts in your hand, you paint a smile. Having become a professional at it, well-taught, well-practised. “What?”You must give him a look, one which screams volumes because his expression softens. Plus, he’s lingering. Shifting his weight, brows slowly dipping, that same line appearing. —and now he knows we’re…We’re?Having fun.“Do that thing with your tongue…” you say, voice cracking, but you hope you style it. Even if he’s narrowing his eyes as he looks you up and down. Even if it takes all of you to force your lips into a grin. “It would get me to talk.”“You’re—““Wonderful, amazing—brilliant?”“Frustrating.”You hand him a transcript. “Clockwise, then anticlockwise. Have a good afternoon, sir.”

He’s been back an hour.

Hiding in the shut-blind room with Stoddard, fighting all temptation to go in there even if you’d been invited. An excuse flows from your tongue before you stop it, dipping your head to drive it home—feeling the hole widen to a crater in your chest.

Choosing to sit in the sidelines—more than you already do—rather than listen to the ways he got the information needed, even if you’re the one who pushed him to begin with. Especially when you’re aware of his past.

It’s why it grates—peels. Finding yourself standing exposed and fearful, afraid he can see through it all and knows that you care. Something you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t let happen.

You’re so lost in it, your apparent failure—your confused feelings—you don’t notice the shadow over your desk until the mug is placed down in front of you. Barely able to blink, staring at it before looking up at him. Tapping your pen, scrunching your lips as you narrow your gaze.

“What’s this?”

“A peace offering.”

Leaning back, you sigh. “We’re fine, Peña.”

He smirks—knowingly. As though he’s rifled through your mind and found all the evidence attesting how much of a lie that is.

You’re usually better. Harder to read and less easy to predict, but then, most people hadn’t snapped your underwear from your thigh and pocketed it before they made you come undone on their sofa.

“Fine, I need a favour.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes. “Here we go.”

“Do you fancy calling the SLS?”

Your brows lift, smirking. “I do not.”

And he knows it too. Which is why he’s standing—smirk present, delicious brown eyes softening just the amount to make him look cute and docile. Like a fucking puppy.

“You fancy sharing the number?”

Snorting, you glance down at your papers. “You don’t fancy asking your deputy for that information?”

Resting his palms on your desk, you still hear him lick his lips and catch the sight of it just as you look up. “Please, cariño.”

You should torture him. Make him wait.

For no reason other than to grasp some form of control over the situation. Everything unravelling, things mixing and blending where they shouldn’t be. Emotions which should be firmly out of this, very much in the centre, doubling, tripling—

“Fine,” you groan, grabbing your notebook of numbers and a scrap bit of paper.

He smirks, almost grinning. “I could kiss you.”

“I wouldn’t. Had garlic for lunch, and… you’ve likely had your fill for the day. Right?”

“Jealous?”

Yes. Your face blanks, hiding the answer which hurries its legs to your tongue—the one which has been burrowing a hole in your chest since he’d gone earlier.

The one, you suspect, is the reason most people are avoiding you today. The very thing which is forcing you to carve the tip of your pen into the paper and almost through the desk.

Leaning, you tap your pen against the desk. “Only if you did the tongue move on her, Javi.”

“The one you suggested?”

You snort, handing him the piece of paper as you stand.

“Is that all, Peña?”

His smile drops, soft at first—just at the edges. And then, all at once. It falls from his eyes, concern weaving into his forehead and brows as you stand, grabbing some files, not even sure which ones, as you begin to straighten them on your desk.

You should smile, smirk. Laugh it off. But, it’s balling up in your throat—tasting like acid and regret, getting heavier and heavier as it trickles down to your tongue and the back of your teeth.

“Remember I’m leaving early today,” you announce, more clinical, more formal. “So if you require further help, Neil can help.”

You almost wince, almost. Able to stop yourself as Stoddard’s first name falls from your tongue. The one you never use. The one which doesn’t suit leaving your lips as you step around your desk.

And you pray he doesn’t grab you, doesn’t place his palm on your forearm or cup your elbow. You hope he doesn’t lead you to his office, force you to talk until you’re cracked open and wading in feelings you’d rather bury.

He doesn’t.

Stepping back as he nods. Firm. Detached.

Exactly what you want… yet it hurts. It wounds. It nicks tiny cuts into your skin so it stings in the office air and bleeds you slowly.

Usually, you hate being home. But tonight, it’s lively.

Almost like it once was. It's all bathed in music, laughter and steam. So lost in it, the freeness of normalcy, you don’t expect it to be him when you send Matías to open the door.

It doesn’t even cross your mind until you hear Matías greeting the male voice, the one your body knows quicker than your mind, feet carrying you to the hallway for his eyes to land on you.

Eyes that find you over the bare, shirtless shoulders of Matías—the dish in your hand almost toppling as you take a breath, throat dry. Suddenly racking your brain, all lightheaded, wondering if the two of you had made plans that you’d forgotten about.

“Javi?”

“Hey, I was—I should—”

Matías turns, staring at you.

Giving you that look, the one you normally are able to shut down but find difficult with the evidence presented in front of you. Aye, you’re not interested in complications, huh?

All you can do is narrow your eyes. Please, do not make this more uncomfortable.

He wants to—you can tell. The same look on his face that you used to see on another. One that almost mirrors it, reminding you of game nights and far too much alcohol you still don’t know the name of. Thankfully, he takes pity, not pushing, turning back to speak to Javi directly.

Your boss.

“Matías…”

He’s not listening. Explaining he’s going—that the two of you are done anyway. His Spanish is so quick, it takes a second for your mind to translate, making it too late to interject.

Not that you can think—not as Javi’s eyes drag up and down your legs, suddenly very aware of the short-shorts and the amount of thigh on show. How it looks bad. All of it.

You’re aware of it.

Even if there’s no reason to worry, this is nothing. A lie you don’t believe but continue to hum to yourself like a tune you can never get out of your head.

You feel Matías kiss your cheek, soft, hand on your shoulder as he does. “He’s cute. Be good, senorita. You deserve good.”

His words take a second, the Spanish flowing into your ears as he takes the dish from your hands—the one which has warmed your palms to almost burning. His t-shirt draped over his shoulder, looking far too smug for someone who doesn’t know how to cook anything.

It’s not until he walks past Javi do you move, do you unfreeze and find your feet can move from their position on your tiled floor.

Running the back of your hand against your forehead, you sigh. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

You snort. “Come on in.”

Even though he’s been here before, it feels different. It’s less sad and pathetic, wine in your glass for a reason not to bury the day but rather energise it. The air is humming with scents, spices and the sound of upbeat music playing from some distant corner. Your lights are on, and low, adding an ambience to your place that could be seen as odd for two friends who have been merely laughing and cooking.

You spot him taking it all in, eyes dragging across walls, ornaments and photo frames he clearly didn’t take in last time. A smile threatens to spill out until he lands on the half-full wine glass and the very much empty one.

You move, heading into the small kitchen, moving things, tidying. A need to keep busy as you throw a cloth over your shoulder.

“So—”

“He’s my neighbour, Javi.”

He relaxes—you hear it. From the soft exhale through his nose to his muscles practically untightening from his bones.. A part of you sighs in relief that he believes your truth. The jealousy falls from the air as though it was never there, to begin with. Javi points at the sink. “You want a hand?”

It’s the way he looks at you that undoes you. His eyes are all soft again, so genuine. No ulterior motive currently. Not here to talk about work or have any discussion to do with drugs, money laundering or death.

Smiling, you shift your weight on your legs. “You any good?”

“I do alright.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He laughs, and it shouldn’t be the sweetest sound—but it is. Especially like this, lighter, more heart filled. “My mama raised me well, bonita. I know how to take care of a home—grew up on a ranch, actually.”

“You’re a rancher, huh?”

He smiles broader as you lean against the counter, blocking the sink.

“Damn straight.”

“Not your current profession, though, is it? Because I know that’s currently being a pain in my ass.”

He nudges you, stepping around you as he dips a finger into the water to check its temperature, splashing your skin with parts of it as he gets close. “I can be a pain in your ass, cariño. Just say the word.”

You smirk, grabbing a towel trying not to watch as he rolls his sleeves up, your throat drying again—but for completely different reasons. “You wash, I’ll dry.”

Nodding, he mumbled a quick, “You got it,” one quickly buried under a held-back laugh that slowly leaves your lips. It partially merges with a breath, the rest falling into the air, settling.

The first dish handed to you, taking it from him with far too much ease, as though this is normal. As if him being here is normal.

It feels it as the drums fade into piano keys. As you take a bowl this time, drying it until you place it down, another laugh emerges in your throat that greets the air.

“What?”

Shaking your head, you take the next plate from him, glancing at the bubbles which slide down the porcelain surface. “Javi Peña is washing my dishes. And it’s not even a euphemism.”

He has a beautiful smile. One you’re sure by now you count paint with your fingers if you were any sort of artist. You’d thought it was nice the moment he first let you see it. But, you find it's his smirk that does the most damage to you—undoes something in you.

He searches for the next dish in the steaming water, bubbles sliding around his wrists and forearms, hairs clinging to his skin as you try not to let your ears burn as he keeps glancing at you, noting the implication—the realisation.

“I can bet my entire next paycheck that you’ve done a lot of things in women’s kitchens, but not done the dishes.”

His eyes glint under the lights, holding your gaze as you feel your bare cheeks warm under them. You know that look, it’s the undoing of all your sensibility. It quiets the voice that says the two of you should stop, not needing to create more mess, more complication.

One you usually banish away with your lips.

“I like my kitchen sanitary,” you comment, nudging him. “Eyes on the dishes, Peña.”

“So, the neighbour?”

“A friend of a friend—who lives across the street. So, partial-neighbour.” He nods, but you know that’s not what he wants to know. Can tell, slowly finding him so easy to read. “And he’s surprising his boyfriend with a cooked meal—I offered my kitchen.”

Javi smiles, brushing the sponge over a plate. “You do cooking lessons then?”

“No. But, he looked out for my place, when I was…” Your eyes drop to the glass in your hand. “He’s a good guy, and it gave me something to do other than fucking my boss.”

“Sounds like a professional boss.”

“Got a great moustache, though.”

The two of you not saying anything more until you're done. Occasional glances, tension thrumming, vibrating. Some threads of it want to abandon washing and kiss him; other threads want to ask him why he's here.

The thought recurring as you eventually hand him a drink, watching him sit down on your sofa, as you join him. Purposefully sitting a seat away from him.

You’d chosen something less uptempo, more gentle as the air fills with piano keys and soft lulling voices. It follows the same ambience as the lighting. A perfect match—a solid blend. The room bathed in warm yellow and pretty gold, his red shirt standing out, but he’d stand out all the same.

Even if it feels normal—usual.

Javi always shines a little bit brighter in your eyes.

Each gesture, each expression always noted—your eyes struggling to break from him. It’s why you notice his fingers gesturing for your legs, studying you as you smirk and throw them up, drinking from your glass of red as berries stain your lips.

All you can think about is him tasting them—sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip until your spine is pressed into the cushions of your sofa. You’d not ruined your sofa with him, hadn’t had him between your thighs here.

From his quietness, he’s thinking something too.

Something which makes him drag his eyes up and down your legs, makes his hand go from drawing a shape to sliding the tips of them up and down your calf.

“You think loudly, you know that?”

He laughs, and it’s beautiful. Nothing held back, letting it flow from his throat to your ears.

“First time I’ve been told I think, cariño.”

It’s easy to smile around him. He halts the thoughts which run so free and wild in your head, only somewhat deafened when he’s not.

“You need to talk about work or…”

He snorts, taking a long sip. “Talking about anything would be good for me, cariño.”

You feel guilty for it. How you use him—even if you’re sure he’s been using you too. Both running from something, both trying to dull whatever it is living on both your shoulders. Although, you weren’t sure if it was the same now.

Foolishly, you had ruined it, tampered with it in his office. Changed things. Began pulling on the thread until you toppled it all over days ago. Now you worry he’ll want more than you can give him. Need more from you than you have spare to share with him. Not at all sure how you allowed emotions to slip through the net. How things having gone from simple fucking to wanting to have your legs over his lap—to him washing dishes and drinking whiskey in your glass. Whiskey you bought for him, even if he never really came here.

A just-in-case purchase.

“Okay… you tell me one thing, and then I tell you one thing.”

You think of Van Ness, of the many ways he had tried to get information out of you as you lay vertically in bed, unwilling to sleep and refusing to eat. A game he presented, frustration stitched into his forehead, but a determination fermenting in his bones.

Dragging his tongue over his bottom lip, he nods, half-smiling. “Alright.” The tip of his fingernail tapping against your lower leg. “I’ll bite.”

Swirling your glass, you eye him over it. Thinking.

Trying to unpick why it’s normal, why it doesn’t feel odd that he didn’t call, that he just showed up and fits in all so well. The answer there, hanging in the corner—the evidence hammering against the walls you force yourself to throw up.

You know why; you know how.

“Tell me something you’re ashamed of, that I wouldn’t already know.”

He sniggers, looking down, staring at the melting ice cubes in his glass. “But, you already know so much about me and my past mistakes.”

“Yeah, well,” you add. “You’re a fascinating read.”

From the way he’s not lifted his chin, there’s something.

One big thing he’s thought up instantly. One that makes his broad shoulders tense and his jaw tighten. A secret, a regret, that likely comes out when he’s stuck in traffic—which has kept him up at night. A thing which makes him as reserved as you.

“I almost got married once.”

“Yeah?”

“Left her… I left her at the altar.”

You look at him, not moving your leg from over his lap, continuing to sip the wine. Not wanting to move, not wanting him to stop—

“Saw her. Before coming out here. Made me glad I did it, y’know? She’s happy—got a husband, kids.”

His fingers strum against your leg.

Clearing your throat, you place your glass down on your thigh. “You should be glad you didn’t marry her because you clearly didn’t want to.”

“That too.”

You add nothing more. Silence wrapping its heavy hands around you both as he begins to lightly tap quicker against your leg, taking the smallest of sips, waiting for you.

“If I were her, I’d be embarrassed, but grateful.” He lifts his chin, staring at you from the side as you tilt your head to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t want someone to marry me because of obligation—I’d want them to choose me because they wanted me.”

His lips twitch, likely turning over your words, really considering them before nodding. It’s quick. Enough to make a piece of hair he’s been playing with fall over his forehead.

Then, he relaxes, shoulders meeting the back of your sofa as he slides his fingers in softer, slower circles on your leg.

“Your turn.”

Smiling, you lean back into your cushion. “What do you wanna know?”

It dances in his eyes: Everything.

Likely wishes to crack you open and see all of it. All the things not in his piss-poor file and the things not whispered around the office.

Probably what happened in Cali and why you have resigned yourself to a desk. Why you entered his office that first day, why you’re—

“Why’d you and Fiestl end things?”

“That’s what you want to know?”

Javi shifts his hips under your legs, licking his bottom lip. “I don’t want to ask something that you’re not willing to share. Want you to trust me.”

You chew that, whatever words you had been rearing and desperate to say wilting away. Instead, you place your glass down on your coffee table. Clearing your hands.

“Wasted question, but okay. I think, if we were honest with one another, we weren’t happy before I left for Cali. We’d… argued quite a bit. Even moved some of my things back.”

Swallowing, you stare off a little. Finding the scuff on one of the stools against the kitchen side. The one which had gotten caught on your bag one day, having flung to the floor and been scuffed against the kitchen tile.

A reminder—a slither of something to show it was all real, and not make-believe.

“Sometimes things heal when you leave them alone. Sometimes they worsen—the crack deepens,” you continue. “Ours was the latter. It’s hard when you’re competing—when you’re all trying to stand out—to get the good jobs. Cali to him meant more, but it was me who was sent. So…”

You’re aware of his hand stroking up and over your knee. Waiting, letting the pieces of your story knit together like a puzzle he’ll unravel later. One you used to try and figure out, nights bleeding into day and still never close to solving.

Further shattering when Cali took any chance of salvation.

“You also don’t…really come back the same. Do you?”

He waits for a beat, one which makes it feel all that much worse. “No.”

You let out a shaky breath, reaching back for your glass, draining it. Removing your legs from him, considering curling them up under you as you try to smile.

It’s too much—him, being this close.

Knowing if he looks hard enough, he’ll see all the imperfections covered so well with nice clothing and a hard stare; he’ll see the parts of you that have healed wrong, and the wounds which are still open.

Yet, you want him closer.

A part of you—the one without sense and any semblance of worry. The part which calls to him, that worries for him, that has begun to care more than you should ever have done.

It’s why you take his glass before moving over him, leg on either side of his thighs, staring down into his eyes and allowing him the chance to stare into yours.

They’re always soft, and warm—sometimes with a darkness that you hope sweeps over you, sometimes full of sparkles and lust. Other times, they’re wired with energy, almost vibrant as his mind turns and his brain concocts.

It’s why he’s a good agent. Why he thinks ahead, why you know he’s not going to stop.

You trace up his neck with your index finger, finding yourself being studied all over again.

“Why’d you come round, Javi?”

Your lips are so close to his, the scent of whiskey mixing with the spices from the food you’d been cooking earlier, hanging all heavy in the air around you both.

Slowly, he places his hands on your hips. “Think it’s my turn to ask a question, cariño.”

But, you don’t say anything.

Watching him, sliding two fingers along his jaw, holding his gaze, watching his resolve screw up like a piece of paper.

“I wanted you to know that I didn’t sleep with her. Didn’t take your advice about my tongue.”

You don’t move, fingers halting on his cheek.

A thread strummed inside of you, forcing your lips to slide into a smile and your eyes to hold his.

“That’s an odd thing to tell your secretary.”

“You’re not my secretary.”

You grin, and you can tell he wants to kiss it. About the same amount as you want to press your mouth to his and your body against his until you only hear your name. The one he says so often.

“Are you trying to tell me I’m the only one, Peña? Is that it?”

Flicking your eyes over him, he slowly licks his lips. Your hips are desperate to roll, your body needing friction as he flicks his eyes from your mouth to your eyes, before placing his palms on your thighs.

They’re warm. Soft. Slowly and torturously fanning each finger out over the skin as you lightly inhale—loud enough for him to hear.

“Maybe I am.”

It’s thick, the tension. Both of you are waiting, staring, unsure who’ll snap first.

So he adds, “I’m not sleeping with anyone else, cariño.”

He watches you, and how his words land. See something flicker in his eyes, something pleading—something you want to answer but find the words can’t come.

It’s just you, too.

You will them. Almost want to shout them, but instead, you offer, “Kiss me.”

“You sure?”

Your eyes close, sliding your palms up his cheeks. “How long till your flight?”

“Few hours.”

Opening your eyes, you burn the words into him. It’s just you, I hate it, but it’s you and only you. “Please kiss me, Javi.”

And he does.

chapter seven ->

183 notes · View notes

grievedeeply · 2 years

Note

Hello!! If you're down for it, could I request some general relationship headcanons for Brok, Sindri, Thor, Modi, and Baldur? (If you don't want to do that many characters feel free to skip whoever you want.) Either way, thank you for your time!

sure! decided to skip brok and sindri since i don't write for them romantically as of right now, but thank you for the request and sorry these are short! i'm open to making longer ones :)

gn!reader | no tws

tags: @graciegizmo3184 @anzanishira @chocokaylarobin @uncoveredsun | join my taglist!

relationship headcanons with thor, modi and baldur

thor

first and foremost, this man is great at making you feel safe. his size, strength, power— everything about him just exudes protection

he's a good cuddler even though he pretends to hate it. he'll let you sleep on top of him and just keep his arms wrapped around you, holding you close

you keep him grounded. you help him through everything. you try to help him realize his worth and you hate how brainwashed he is by odin

he isn't the best boyfriend by any means, but he tries. he wants the best for you and knows that it isn't him. yet you stay. he wonders why, but decides against asking too much out of fear you'll come to your senses

modi

he is so incredibly insecure in himself. his father doubts him and his grandfather thinks he's worthless. he's ignored by everyone and treated lower than his brother, so when you come along and want to be with him???

he's shocked. he likes you a lot, but he never expected you to pick him over magni

you're a big help to him in realizing his worth. your reassuring and comforting words mean more to him than he could ever explain

he worries a lot about fucking up and you finding someone better than him, no matter how many times you tell him that won't happen

baldur

he hates how he can't feel your touch. he sees your hand on his arm, his chest, his face— but he feels nothing. he knows it's there. he wishes he could feel you in the way you feel him

even though he can't feel it, he enjoys physical affection. it reminds him that you love him even though he thinks you shouldn't

you'll be the first person he's ever truly opened up to. he tells you everything about his strained relationship with his mother, too. he almost regrets it until he sees your reaction— gentle and kind. as you always are with him

you're so sweet to him. you're a comforting presence that he never wants to go away, and he'll go to any lengths to protect you. you're the only thing he really has in this world and he doesn't intend to let you get hurt in any way

#god of war x reader #gow x reader #god of war ragnarok spoilers #god of war ragnarok #god of war #gow #thor x reader #baldur x reader #modi x reader

424 notes · View notes

thebiggerbear · 8 months

Text

Only Ever Holding Onto You Chapter 1

A/N: Hey all! I just want to let you know up front that this chapter is HUGE. When writing, I go more by what I feel needs to be in the chapter for setups and flow than I do the length. It's something I'm still working on as a writer so I apologize. The following chapters should not be nearly as long.

I began writing this back in July and at that time, I hadn't watched the rest of the 3rd season of Big Sky so I did a lot of guesswork based on gifs, clips, and posts I had seen on here. So that's why some things might not line up to the show, sorry about that. Also, I completely made up the name of the pharmaceutical company.

This story actually was the gateway to Ghosts so there might be some similar threads you might notice. ;) I hope you like it!

And a huge thank you to my beta Em! You rock, girl!

Warnings: mentions of animal cruelty, mentions of animal injuries seen by Reader, mentions of kidnapping of minor

Word Count: 13,543

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

Series Masterlist

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

You rolled your eyes and made a left onto Washington. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what everyone who breaks into a chem lab says.”

“It’s true,” the man currently sitting handcuffed in your backseat insisted. “It’s the corporation that’s doing something wrong. They’re benefitting from those animals’ pain.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to enter the premises illegally,” you pointed out.

“What they’re doing is illegal,” he scoffed.

You couldn’t exactly argue with that one. When the call came in for a 10-62 and it was advised that the prowler was armed and dangerous, you had immediately rushed to the scene, beaten there by two officers from Helena PD and one deputy from your department. The perp had already been secured and in handcuffs, proclaiming loudly over and over that he was innocent as were the animals he had been trying to set free. Deputy Davis informed you that the only weapon that had been found on the man was a pair of bolt cutters, which had barely made a dent in the cages’ padlocks, never mind were they ever a real threat to anyone on the premises.

After contacting the higher-ups of her employer, an onsite supervisor insisted the company wanted to press any and all charges, maintaining that the animals in their possession had been obtained legally and the accusations against them were baseless. One glance past the woman’s shoulder at the cages of rabbits and cats being wheeled into another area showed that perhaps the man’s claims weren’t as baseless as she said they were. You had to keep yourself from hauling her down to the station on some trumped up charge once you noticed one cat in particular that had half of its fur missing and its side was littered with obvious injection sites. One rabbit even had sutures where an eye should be.

Unfortunately, you had a job to do and the law needed to be upheld. You insisted on taking the perp, one Martin Webb, into the station yourself. Since Davis had arrived on scene first, Helena PD couldn’t say a peep. That was one thing that hadn’t changed with your transfer here: the good ol’ jurisdiction issue between departments. Although, up in these parts, the Lewis and Clark County Sheriff’s Department and Helena PD did play nicer together than most other places you’d been. As Webb continued to ramble on in the back of your car, you were thankful for that little fact.

When he mentioned for the fifth time that he was doing the right thing, your phone began to ring. One quick glance at the screen showed that it was Deputy Poppernak. Without saying a word, you picked up the call. “What’s shaking, Pepper Snaps?”

You smirked when you heard the slight huff he let out when you called him the cute little nickname you had come up for him. He knew you did it to tease him good-naturedly but it still exasperated him at times. Truth be told, you had a fondness for the guy even though he did prove to be a bit of a suck-up when you first stepped into the station about six months back. Still he had always been welcoming towards you, took your quirks in stride, and he was a decent cop. That put him under the good list in your book.

“Hey, Y/N. The boss asked for me to give you a call and see if you were on your way back to the station.”

Your eyes practically rolled out of your head. Apparently, the sheriff had forgotten how phones worked along with the knowledge that you were more than capable of doing your job. If Poppernak got exasperated with you at times, your patience could be worn thin by one Beau Arlen on a semi-often basis, and that hadn’t changed with both of you relocating to Big Sky Country.

“Pops, correct me if I’m wrong, but when I radioed in to Madge that I was transporting a suspect back to the station, did I say it in Portuguese? French maybe? Japanese? Or in Gaelic perhaps?” You quipped.

“Uh, no. No, of course not,” Poppernak let out in a nervous chuckle. “It’s just, uh…sorry, one second.” You could hear his muffled voice speaking to someone; it was obvious he had covered the mouthpiece with his hand. You nearly rolled your eyes again, knowing exactly who he was speaking to, and instead chose to glance in your rearview to check on the man in the back. He had still been talking when you picked up the call but he must have gotten the hint when the deputy’s voice filled the car. Now, he sat quietly, staring straight ahead.

“Okay, sorry about that. Madge was asking me—”

You’d had enough, especially when you heard him using a quieter tone than before. “Cut the crap, I know very well who was asking you something. What does he want and why is he not calling me to ask me himself?”

He laughed nervously again. “Uh, well, he was just—I mean I was just wondering, do you mind stopping by The 1889 and grabbing the usual order on your way in?”

Your jaw tensed. You had a sneaking suspicion of the reason why your boss wasn’t calling you directly and instead was asking his employee to do his dirty work, and it infuriated you.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Poppernak added meekly.

You forced yourself to remember that he wasn’t the one who your ire should be aimed at. You’d get to that soon enough after you booked your suspect down at the station. You made another quick turn to head in the direction of the coffee shop. “Call the order in. I’ll be there in fifteen to pick it up and they better run it out to me or no dice. In case anyone at that station is too thick-headed to remember, I’m currently transporting a suspect.”

You heard a relieved breath come down the line. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re the—”

You ended the call before the deputy could finish speaking. Pops knew you weren’t mad at him and knowing him, he’d get right on placing the order at the coffee house you all frequented so the order would be ready in the timeframe you’d given him.

“Amazing. Animals are being cruelly treated in your own backyard and all you cops can worry about is your coffee order. ‘To protect and serve’...yeah right.”

You shot Webb a glare in your rearview mirror. “You have the right to remain silent, you know. Wouldn’t hurt to exercise it every now and then. Like right now.”

“How can I be silent? Do you have any idea what they’re doing to those animals? Do you have any idea how much pain they’re in? God, you people are heartless!”

“Uh huh.” You brought the car to a stop at a traffic light and took a deep breath. Losing your temper on Webb or Pops or anyone at the station would not help anything, but damn did Beau get on your nerves sometimes with his desire to placate and diffuse things. Most of the time, it was something you heavily respected about him; it was a great quality for a leader to have. At the same time, some people needed to be stood up to, put in their place, and knocked down a few pegs — and that is where you and Beau never saw eye-to-eye. It drove you crazy but you told yourself you would play the long game on this one. Beau knew how you felt. You two had argued about it enough times when it was just you two — but he refused to budge an inch. He believed time would resolve things. Six months was plenty of time in your mind but apparently, he didn’t share that sentiment. So, you did as you always had: you had his back and you followed his lead. It didn’t mean you had to like it sometimes, though. Especially not when—no, you would put it out of your mind for now.

“I’m serious, you saw the animals yourself. Do you really think they’re well cared for like they said? If you only knew the half of it!”

Webb’s rantings broke you out of your reverie. You thought over what he said, remembered the cat with the missing fur, the rabbit with the missing eye, and bit your lip in contemplation. When the light turned green, your mind was made up. “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Webb. And that job doesn’t include looking into the history of this company or what they do with their animals when it comes to testing.”

The man scoffed and you knew your words had been chosen well. “Of course not. Why would you care? I suppose you don’t care that the animals are kept in cages night and day. Not only do they pump chemicals into them consistently but they cause them pain purposely to see if their products work. I guess you also don’t care that this is a common practice for this company, or that they purposely pick up strays from surrounding neighborhoods and have even broken into people’s properties to steal their pets when the shelters and pet stores start to get suspicious! And you’re charging me with breaking and entering? What about them? And I bet you don’t care that they purposely starve these animals for certain experiments and that’s not even…”

You made your way to The 1889, keeping your gaze ahead of you as you maneuvered down the streets, all the while quietly listening and at certain points, trying to remember why you’d chosen to become a cop when it seemed like the odds always remained against you and innocents, humans and animals alike, continued to get hurt by every semblance of heartless assholes on a daily basis.

Deputy Davis, who had beaten you back to the station and waited for you to arrive, led Webb into the station as you followed behind with a tray of coffees and a paper bag full of food.

Pops immediately hurried over to meet you, a huge grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. You really are the best.”

You handed him both the tray and bag, giving him a nod.

Webb watched the exchange carefully before yelling out, “Yeah, so glad you can sit and enjoy your coffee and donuts while innocent animals are suffering!” The busy hum in the station dimmed slightly as everyone turned to look, but then it resumed when they saw the man responsible for the noisy interruption was in handcuffs.

“I’ll book him,” the deputy next to you insisted.

“Thanks, Davis.” You smiled slightly at the younger man. “I’ll get on the paperwork.”

“Let’s go.” Davis pushed Webb in front of him who kept yelling as he was being moved away.

You and Pops watched them disappear around the corner and then turned back to one another. “So, where is he?”

Pops’ amiable smile dropped completely and he quickly glanced in the direction of the sheriff’s office. Bingo. “Uh, I think he’s interrogating a suspect right now…”

“Right.” You then moved past him and proceeded right to the location that Pops unintentionally gave away before outright lying to you. The door was shut but that didn’t deter you. Without knocking, you opened the door and barged right in.

Sure enough, there was Beau, sitting in his chair with the infamous Jenny Hoyt perched on the desk to his left, barely a foot of space between them. Of course. Was there ever a moment in the day the undersheriff wasn’t trying to get into the sheriff’s pants?

The blonde glared at your intrusion and you folded your arms across your chest. You offered a meaningful look to Beau, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Did you always storm into your boss’ office without knocking like this back in Houston or is it only something you do here?” Hoyt snapped.

“Hoyt,” Beau warned.

Ignoring her sniping and ignoring her presence altogether — you leveled your eyes on Beau alone. “We need to talk.”

Beau glanced between you and his undersheriff, looking uncertain, before he gave a simple nod. “Give us the room for a minute,” he directed to the woman next to him. The corner of your lips lifted in the beginning of a smirk; wise choice on his part.

Hoyt transferred her glare to him but got to her feet all the same. She nearly stomped her way out the door, scowling at you the entire time. You stared her down, all too happy to close the door once she vacated the threshold. You seriously could not wait for that woman to take some vacation time; it’d be like your own vacation kicking in at the same time.

You turned around to find Beau watching you, exhaustion showing in the lines of his face a little more prominently than they had a moment ago. “Y/N, I—”

Holding up a hand, you interrupted him before he could plead with you for peace or make excuses like he had so many times before. “Aside from me thinking that it’s downright pathetic that you can’t even make a simple phone call to ask me to pick you up one of your favorite sandwiches because she’s within hearing distance, I have a bigger issue to discuss.”

Beau sat back in his chair, considering you for a moment. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

You moved closer and took a seat. “The man I just brought in, Martin Webb, the one who’s being booked on a B&E charge from Avuna Pharmaceuticals? Turns out he was not armed like had been initially reported to emergency dispatch. He had a pair of bolt cutters on him that didn’t even work and he was not posing a threat to anybody. But the Avuna reps are insisting he was.”

“Who was first on scene?”

“Davis.”

“Any footage or eyewitness accounts that prove this guy threatened anyone before Davis got there?”

“Eyewitness accounts from paid employees and when we asked for footage after noticing cameras placed all around the lab, we were told that their legal counsel advised that unless we had a warrant, we were wasting our time and suggested we should be focusing on the arrest of the assailant in our custody.”

Beau snorted. “Not suspicious at all and damn ballsy.”

You couldn’t help but shrug. “Big corporation, big money. They’ll do whatever it takes to protect it all.”

He nodded in agreement. “Good point. Alright, let’s let the DA take it from here. For now, just book him and we’ll let the courts battle it out on what charges actually stick.”

You tilted your head at him expectantly.

“And,” he sighed. “I take it you already knew I’d say that and that’s not why you wanted to discuss it.”

“You know me so well,” you teased, giving him a smirk and sitting on the desk next to him on his right, keeping a polite distance between you. “Something doesn’t smell right with this case. If their response to our request to view their footage wasn’t enough of a red flag, then the fact that they’re looking to throw the book at this guy is. I ran him through the system. His record is relatively clean; he’s an activist, not an ecological terrorist.” You bit your lip. “I saw the animals while they were transporting them,” you said in a quieter tone. “I saw some things that... I think this guy, while a little misguided, is actually on the right track. Something’s off with this whole thing.”

Beau leaned over to place a hand over yours. “Darlin’, I know where you’re going with this and while it pains me to say it, I have to. It’s not our job. You said it yourself: big corporation, big money. This is for the courts. We can’t get involved.” You dropped your gaze to the floor and let out a disappointed breath. You knew as much, had said as much to Webb on the ride over, but it felt wrong for that to be the actual reality.

You felt Beau brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in tender strokes. It was his way of reassuring you and apologizing at the same time. You couldn’t help but give him a thin-lipped smile. You knew he would do something if he could, but he was right. Unless there was evidence to Webb’s claims of the company illegally obtaining those animals, this was not for you or for the department to get involved in. On the off-chance there was proof, that evidence would need to be transferred to the right agency who handled such cases. Your hands were tied and there was nothing you could do from your position, that fact wouldn’t help you sleep better at night or help you forget what you had seen.

“That being said, I will talk to the DA and see what he can do about the charges. I can’t promise anything but I’ll try,” Beau finished, after seeing your reaction.

You turned your hand over, grabbing onto his, and whispered, “Thank you.”

He returned your smile and squeezed your hand before gently letting go. “And thank you for picking up the order earlier. And for not letting Hoyt bait you into an argument.”

Rolling your eyes and getting to your feet, you made your way to the bulletin board on the far wall to study its contents. “Sometimes I wonder why you even asked me to come here.”

You heard a heavy sigh behind you but you didn’t turn around to look. “You know why I asked you to join me here, Y/N. I need someone who has my back.”

“You have plenty of people here who have your back.” You pulled the paper you were looking for off the board and folded it up. “Especially her. She’d have your back, front, and center if she had anything to say about it.” Slipping the paper into the back pocket of your jeans, you glanced back at Beau to find him glaring in your direction. “Am I wrong?” You challenged.

“I really wish you two would try to get along.”

You scoffed out a laugh. “I’m not the one who throws a temper tantrum every time I walk into a room. That would be the woman whose insufferable ass has been glued to yours for the past six months.”

Beau shook his head. “Why do I even try?”

“Why do you?” You agreed. “And why do you defend her at every given turn when you know she’s the one that has a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder?”

“I told you, she’s been through a lot. With her mom and everything…” Beau waved a hand to indicate there might be more to it than you knew. You didn’t think there was; you had heard about it from practically everyone around here, but you also knew Beau was a good man with a big heart. So while you didn’t excuse away the blatant hostility Hoyt had shown you from the moment you arrived, you knew that your best friend tried to be understanding and his patience was longer than the length of the building you were currently in.

“Right,” you muttered. When you first showed up here, Beau told you everything that went down in the amount of time it took you to be able to secure your transfer. You knew all about Jenny Hoyt, her mom, Cassie Dewell, their interesting history, Denise, Sunny, Buck, and everything that happened with Emily and Carla. As a matter of fact, as soon as Beau called you in a panic over Emily’s being taken, you had told your boss down in Houston, Burke Ellis, that you were done waiting for him to stop dragging his feet and you were out on the first red-eye you could book a seat on. As a matter of fact, that was how you and Cassie first met, and how you first came across Hoyt.

Beau had rushed over to you the minute he had spied you hurrying into the station, asking for Sheriff Beau Arlen and flustering Madge who had no idea who you were but that the man you said you were here to see was having a personal crisis and wasn’t up for seeing any visitors. You darted past her desk, which had further exasperated her, and you practically jumped into Beau’s open arms. You both hugged each other tightly and he nearly lifted you off the ground.

“Thank you,” he rasped out into your ear. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” You ran your fingers soothingly through the hair at the back of his neck. “Where do you need me?”

He had pulled back and it was then that you could see the toll this was taking on him; the fear, worry, and exhaustion were clearly pronounced on his handsome face. “Honestly?” He croaked out. He then grabbed your hand and quickly led you to an office in the back, both of you moving past many shocked onlookers, a 5’6” blonde woman among them who you would later come to know as the biggest pain in your ass in your career thus far.

You saw the gold lettering on the door stating this was Beau’s office and he slipped you inside before shutting the door and closing the blinds. He pulled you back into his arms, burying his face into your neck. He surprised you a moment later by picking you up and placing you on the corner of his desk, never once moving away from you. You could feel the wetness against your skin and you saw his shoulders shake as he let out a pitiful sob.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I just… My baby girl has been taken by this murderous son of a bitch and I—” He couldn’t even get the rest out and you shushed him, holding him together as best you could while he fell apart, scared out of his mind at what could happen to his daughter. Emily was like a niece to you; you couldn’t even imagine how terrified she must be, let alone how her father must feel. You knew one thing, though: you and Beau would find her and bring her home. In order to do that, however, you needed to keep Beau from breaking completely and re-calibrate his focus.

You had started to press kisses to the side of his head, promising that you both would do everything to get Emily back safe and sound. “I’m here now,” you murmured into his ear. “We made one hell of a team once, this will be no different. We’ll get her back, Beau.” He sniffled and moved back to look at you, nodding. You gave him a tender smile and wiped underneath his eyes before running your hand through his wayward hair (it had grown slightly since the last time you saw him) and stroking his bearded cheek affectionately. “I’ve got you. Always.”

He stared into your eyes for so long as you comforted him that you didn’t notice that he was moving closer until his nose nearly bumped into yours. You didn’t realize that your breathing had picked up or that your heartbeat had accelerated until your lips parted to let out a small puff of air. His green gaze dropped down to your mouth at the action and then you noticed him wet his lips with his tongue. Your own tongue automatically mirrored his and you swore you felt your heart stop when you saw him take it as a green light and start to lean in, closing his eyes. Alarm bells went off in your mind: this was your best friend who was vulnerable due to the situation at hand, seeking comfort from someone familiar to him that he knew he could fully trust; there was an active investigation going on into his daughter’s abduction and you knew you were on a timeclock; every second counted and there was no time to waste. Yet you were frozen, unable to react and unwilling to stop him from taking the solace he needed in you.

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined your friendship with Beau possibly crossing the line into something more at one point. While he was married, you had never entertained it, but afterwards, there had been that one night… Nothing had ended up happening between you, of course, but it had definitely been a close call. You had attributed it to too much liquor and the need for consolation during a rough time in his life, being more than relieved when he didn’t appear to remember the next morning. So your friendship continued unmarred by any tension or awkwardness. Now…how could you not give him what he clearly needed from you at one of the worst times in his life?

You had just shut your eyes, making your decision and waiting for impact, when a knock sounded on his door and then it opened, a surprised gasp emitting from the doorway. You both turned to look, seeing a stunned woman standing there who you hadn’t passed by before. Beau let out a stuttered breath but pulled away from you all the same. It left a funny feeling inside your chest, but you told yourself he had made the right decision which prompted sweet relief to flood through your own veins. Nothing should occur between you and Beau right now, not when everything with Emily was going on and emotions were running high. And what if you had let him take comfort in you and it ultimately ruined your friendship? Not to mention he was now your boss. How complicated would that be? Your best friend meant more to you than one moment of throwing the rule book completely out the window.

The woman worriedly glanced behind her and seemed to relax when she didn’t see who or what she was looking for. She then gave Beau a small smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Beau cleared his throat and leaned against the desk, next to you, facing the door. You discreetly ran a hand across his back in reassurance. “It’s fine. What is it, Cass?”

Your eyes widened when you heard the nickname and quickly made the connection. This was Cassie Dewell, the local private investigator Beau had told you about. He had mentioned that they had become close friends since he took the job.

“I just came to tell you that I think I might be able to help with Sunny.”

Beau immediately got to his feet. “You think she’ll tell us where Buck’s taken Emily?”

Cassie shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. She’s been married to the man for years. She may not have known he was a serial killer but she knows everything else there is to know about him. She has to have an idea of some spots he might have gone to that we haven’t come up with yet. And we do have the update about Walter as leverage.”

Running a tired hand down his face, Beau sighed. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.” He glanced your way and you gave him a nod. Then he started, as if he just remembered something. “Sorry. Cassie, I’d like you to meet Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is Cassie Dewell.”

Your head snapped in her direction. “Oh right, you’re the PI from the local agency in town that Em’s been working at.”

Cassie gave you a wave and you studied her, expecting judgment of some kind, yet there was no malice or hostility staring back at you. You had expected such a reaction from her walking in on you and Beau, yet all you could see was curiosity... As well as worry and guilt shadowing her eyes for a moment at the mention of Emily. “Yeah, that would be me. Hey.”

“Y/N’s from Houston.” Beau gestured towards you. “We worked quite a few cases together back in the day.”

Her eyes seemed to light up with recognition which surprised you. “Y/N Y/L/N…I was wondering why that name sounded familiar. You’re one of his former partners, right?”

You quickly exchanged a glance with Beau. “Sort of,” you confirmed.

“She’s transferring here but I asked her to come to help with…Emily…” Beau looked pained as he said the name.

You immediately laid a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

He gave you a thin-lipped smile and you squeezed him in reassurance.

“Nice to meet you.” Cassie’s voice pulled you both from the moment.

Your gaze snapped to Cassie’s. “Likewise. So, this Sunny…she’s the owner of the campground, right? Close to where the body of the first victim was found some years ago? And she’s the wife of the suspect?” Beau had told you a little about the case before Avery’s death and Emily’s abduction.

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. I’m hoping she’ll feel up to talking. Beau, I wouldn't ask but…would you mind giving me a hand? It might help shake something loose if we both take a run at her. She’s more familiar with us, and Walter will give us more of a card to play.”

Beau thought it over for a moment. “Agreed. We’ve got to try anything and everything so let’s do it.” Cassie turned to leave when he called out to her, “I’ll be there in a second.”

She nodded and quietly closed the door behind her.

Beau let out a heavy breath and turned to you. “Y/N, I—”

You shot up, standing before him. “No need,” you spoke softly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed reassuringly when you saw his eyes tighten. “Let’s focus on saving your daughter.” You gave him a small smile and he nodded, pulling you into him to place his forehead up against yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured, closing his eyes. When you felt him relax slightly against you after taking a deep breath, out of instinct, you did something you had never done before, not when you were this close together and it was just the two of you. You pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, right above his beard line, forcing his eyes to snap open, staring right into yours, and he focused intently on you.

“Let’s go find her and bring her home,” you whispered, stepping back only when he nodded, and turned towards the door.

“Do you want me to watch the interrogation or do you need me elsewhere?” You asked.

He came to a halt, thinking about it for a moment. “Interrogation.”

You nodded and opened the door, stepping through to see several pairs of eyes land on you. It might have been intimidating to someone else, but to you, it was just par for the course. Beau had warned you about the small town atmosphere compared to the big city one you were accustomed to, so you weren’t surprised in the least when people started talking in hushed tones to one another as you both walked past without a word to anyone. It appeared you and Beau were on the same page: Emily was priority and introductions to your new coworkers would have to wait.

He led you to a closed door where Cassie stood, waiting. You glanced around to look for the room you would be led to in order to watch the interrogation but didn’t see it.

“And who’s this?”

You turned to see the blonde woman from earlier, a forced smile on her face and her blue eyes assessing you.

Beau seemed caught off guard for a moment, his focus on getting to Cassie and then taking on Sunny, but he quickly introduced you. “Y/N Y/L/N, Jenny Hoyt.” You gave her a nod and she returned it. “Cassie and I are going to take a run at Sunny, see if maybe she has an idea of a location where Buck may have taken Emily and Denise.”

The blonde’s gaze softened as it landed on Beau. “Of course. If you want, Cassie and I can do it.” You noticed Cassie’s eyes tighten but she stayed quiet as the woman then leaned into Beau a bit, saying softly, “You’ve been through a lot in the last few hours.” You watched as she squeezed Beau’s arm in support. Ah, so this was the infamous Jenny Hoyt you had heard about. The same Hoyt that had given Beau a run for his money when he first took this job and then continued to be a wildcard in the field. The same one who Beau felt the ridiculous need to babysit. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you watched her gazing up at your friend as if he had hung the moon in the night sky but you schooled your features into polite professional interest by the time Beau glanced over at you.

“I’m good. Actually, Y/N, I’d like you to join us.” Both Cassie and Hoyt turned gaping expressions on you. While this was certainly a twist, you knew Beau wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t have his reasons. Sure enough, he elaborated, “I think a new face might provide the perfect shakeup that we need.” He gave you a meaningful look and like always, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

You gave the group a curt nod. “Sure. Can I see the file real fast so I know what I’m working with?” You held out a hand to Hoyt, assuming that she had Sunny’s file in her hand in expectation of the interrogation, waiting for her to pass it to you.

The blonde glared at you, a hint of suspicion in her eyes, before glancing back at the man. “Beau, maybe we should slow down and think about this for a second. We might only get one shot at this so maybe—”

“Hoyt, my daughter has been kidnapped by a serial killer. She fits his MO to a tee and we need to find her before…” He pressed his lips together tightly before blowing out a breath. “Look, Denise has been taken too, my ex-wife is a mess of tears, Avery is dead, and I’m barely holding it together. Just let me do what I have to do to save my little girl. So give Y/N the damn file.” He spoke the last part through gritted teeth, signifying the end of his patience, and that appeared to shock Hoyt and Cassie. You assumed that this was a new side of Beau that they hadn’t seen before but his daughter’s life was on the line. What did they expect? If he hadn’t said anything, you would have snatched the damn folder out of Hoyt’s hands yourself. Precious time was being wasted with the useless pissing match she seemed intent on engaging in.

Cassie recovered first. “Jenny.” She gave the blonde an encouraging nod.

Hoyt’s features tightened and her eyes were pure ice as she finally placed the folder into your waiting hand.

“Thanks.” You immediately started scanning the contents. After a minute or so, you felt you had a general understanding of Sunny and her history from the file in addition to things Beau had mentioned to you already. You had more than enough to be able to pull off what he needed you to do. You shut the folder and gave Beau and Cassie a nod. “Let’s do it.”

Cassie opened the door and led the way inside, followed by Beau and then you. Hoyt stared you down as you passed her but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Right now, your priority was the young girl whom you had watched grow up, who you had sat through a blistering hot, cheesy middle school graduation for — all to watch her walk across the stage in a cap and gown. Her life was on the line and you’d make sure she returned to Beau safely no matter what.

You weren’t in there long. You did exactly as Beau had intended for you to do. You teed him and Cassie up very nicely to get what they needed to. Not much time had passed before Sunny admitted she most likely knew where Buck went, especially when Cassie swooped in with the information that her son, Walter, was still alive despite Buck’s attempt to kill him.

Once you left the room, Cassie was intent on finding Sunny’s other son, Cormac, since Beau and Hoyt were going to drive Sunny to the location she had revealed. You were about to offer to do whatever was needed from you when you heard a loud cry erupt to your left. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a woman with dark hair rushing towards you. You barely turned in time for impact when Carla threw herself at you.

You held her as she cried, thanked you for coming, asked you to help find her daughter, mentioned her recently murdered husband, and just overall sobbed. This woman had been through one hell of an ordeal in the last few days. You couldn’t even imagine how torn apart you’d be if this were you, not to mention Carla was one of the most level-headed and toughest women you had ever met in your life. She was definitely tougher than you, and that was saying something considering you had seen some shit in your time. Now, seeing her reduced to tears like this, begging you to help save her little girl, to do whatever you had to in order to bring her baby back home to her…it turned your stomach and only added to the urgency of finding Emily and getting to her before that sick son of a bitch could hurt her. You hoped to hell he hadn’t already. Your stomach turned further at the thought and you could feel an all-too familiar fire that you kept a tight lid on when working cases that involved children…

You forced yourself to let go of the thought. This was about Emily and her parents, not about you. Ignoring your experience that nagged at you and insisted that, due to the circumstances and the time already passed, there was a likelihood of a bad ending here, you swallowed past the lump forming in your throat and refocused your energy into trying to calm Carla down so you could help find her daughter.

It took Beau peeling her off of you and promising that you both were going to look for Emily right then to calm her slightly. She held onto Beau and you grabbed her hand, ignoring your training yelling at you in your head, and swore you would do everything you could to help bring her daughter back to her.

“Y/N, Beau, please, you have to save her,” she begged. “Save our daughter!” She threw at Beau before Madge was able to lead her away. Watching her go, your jaw tensed as that fire from earlier threatened to return. You had the desire to find Buck and take the sick bastard down yourself.

Beau turned to you, his green eyes even more haunted than when you had first seen him, and that dulled the fire inside. No matter the anger you felt, it was nothing compared to what he must be feeling. You could only imagine the rage and hopelessness mixed with desperation that was swirling inside of him right now, and you knew exactly what he was thinking because you were thinking it, too. What if you couldn’t keep your promise to Carla? You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts. You wouldn’t think like that; those types of thoughts were useless. You needed to be at your best for him, for Carla, and more importantly, for Emily. Instead, you focused on the positives: you all had a lead right now, two in fact, and that was all that mattered.

You instinctively reached out and cupped his face with your hands, anchoring him as best you could. “Beau, listen to me,” you murmured. “You and Hoyt take Sunny to the spot she told you about. I’ll go with Cassie to find Cormac. Alright?”

He nodded, staring at you, and the movement forced a single tear to shake loose. You wiped it away discreetly before it could be seen and hugged him to you. “Go. Keep your phone on and if you need me, you call me. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find her,” you whispered into his ear.

You heard a sniffle in your ear. “Right, we’ll find her.”

“And we’ll take down this sick son of a bitch,” you promised, pulling back to look him meaningfully in the eye. Come hell or high water, you had his back.

Nodding again, he gave you a smile that was more of a grimace and placed a hand against your cheek. “Yeah, we will.” You reached up to give his wrist a squeeze.

“Beau.”

Both of you turned to see Hoyt and Cassie watching you curiously along with Madge and a deputy who you would come to find out to be Poppernak.

“We should go,” Hoyt insisted.

Beau glanced back over at you, quietly clearing his throat and removing his hand. “Yeah.” His gaze snapped over to the other man, as if he had suddenly just had a thought. “Poppernak, get Y/N here a vest before she leaves. Get one for Cassie, too.”

“You got it, boss.”

Poppernak walked away and Beau swung his head back to you. “You call me the second you get anything from Cormac.” At your nod, he laid a hand on your shoulder and lowered his head slightly to look you right in the eye. “Be careful.”

You couldn’t help but smile and say to him the thing you’d said to him every time he told you this in the past: “Always am.” His features softened the slightest bit at the familiar exchange between you. “Now, let’s go find your daughter and bring her home.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out and gave a sharp nod, what you had always called his game face filling his expression. Squeezing your shoulder, he released you and walked away. You watched him go and sure enough, the blonde’s glare entered your vision when she looked back over her shoulder while walking with him out the door. It was the same suspicious glare you’d been getting from her in the last hour, the same one you couldn’t help but notice when Carla had first launched herself at you. You knew then that whatever her reasons, she was going to be a problem for you.

“Ready to go?” Cassie asked kindly.

You gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s go get Em back.”

“And Denise,” she added.

“Right. Her, too.”

The both of you grabbed the vests Poppernak held out to you on your way out.

Cormac had actually proven useful and he had thankfully led you to the correct location Emily was being held in. Beau had been practically inconsolable when he called you before that, thinking Emily had been killed in an explosion. Even though you had seen him at the worst times in his life, and had just seen him breaking down in front of you back at the station, you had never heard the pain that saturated his voice right then. You struggled not to break down in tears yourself. Laughter, football games in the Arlen yard, ice cream runs after particularly tough days at school, you teaching her how to make paella and her mom’s smile when Em proudly insisted she made it all on her own later at dinner that night, rides on the ferris wheel at the fair because her dad was too scared to take her but wouldn’t admit it — the memories of time spent with your favorite teenager assaulted you in rapid succession. You forced yourself to focus on Beau, to keep him from falling to pieces right then and there. You knew that’s why he had immediately called you, before he had to tell Carla.

You were beyond grateful when a minute or two later someone interrupted your conversation to inform Beau that there was no evidence that Emily was in the explosion. The body they’d found appeared to be male. No Denise and no Emily. You had nearly fallen to your knees in relief right then, and you could only imagine how Beau must have felt.

And soon enough, you, Cassie, and Cormac located both girls, very much alive, and freed them. Emily had held onto you, her young face streaked with dirt and tears, clearly traumatized from all that had taken place over the last week. It broke your heart to hear her terrified whimpers. When she first saw you, she had cried out your name and once you had her in your arms, she refused to let go of you, which was just fine by you. You were grateful she was alive and appeared to be unharmed, but you secretly wished you could have two minutes alone with Buck, that sick bastard who had done this to her. Hell, you wouldn’t have needed your gun at all.

Beau and Hoyt showed up just as you were all stepping out into the sun and a huge lump formed in your throat when Emily finally let go of you to run to her dad. Seeing them embracing each other forced tears to run down your cheeks which you quickly wiped away.

You were grateful to Cassie for that day. Her hunch about Cormac and her personal connection to him had helped get Emily back home safely. Not only had the two of you worked well together in that short span of time, but ever since then, you could see that she was good to Beau, and to Emily. Both Arlens had massive respect for her and you could see why Beau had spoken so highly of her before you came to Helena, and why he insisted on having her back professionally despite her being a private investigator. It was common knowledge that law enforcement didn’t always like having PI’s poking around cases, but Cassie had been given full access and assistance. You now saw why and you were thankful that Beau had such a good friend up here, someone who truly had his interests at heart as well as his daughter’s. And now you were also lucky enough to be able to call her your friend. There were many movie nights at Beau’s that were filled with light-hearted teasing and plenty of laughter since you’d settled into life in Montana.

As for Hoyt…well, things hadn’t really changed on that front. She certainly wasn’t a fan of yours, no two ways about it.

You had gotten to know Poppernak a bit after you arrived but he was still in suck-up mode, so you decided to turn that to your advantage. It really didn’t take much to get it out of him; Hoyt had a thing for Beau, nothing you already hadn’t caught onto. Hell, she was practically all over him at his movie nights as well as anytime there was a meetup arranged at the local bar; if she wasn’t present for one reason or another, she was calling him constantly, either saying she needed a friend to talk to or it was under the guise of discussing ongoing cases. Beau never got a day off and there wasn’t one day he spent with Emily that didn’t get interrupted by a phone call from Hoyt. There had even been times he’d had to call you and ask you to take Em to a movie or keep her entertained because Carla was out and he had to go help the blonde on what should have been a case that a rookie fresh out of the academy could have handled. The kicker was that this was after what Em had been through, Hoyt knowing full well that Beau needed some time with his daughter after that ordeal. Not even you interrupted them, though both father and daughter had invited you to join them quite a few times.

At one point, you remembered the other thing Poppernak informed you about: rumors were circulating around the department that Beau and Hoyt were involved and had been secretly seeing one another. You knew Beau would have told you if he was seeing anyone, but it was no secret that Hoyt had appointed you as her archnemesis and you didn’t care for her at all. What if the rumors were right and Beau was too embarrassed to tell you? Or what if he thought it might make a bad situation worse? What if he wanted to find what he considered to be the right time to tell you? And if he was indeed seeing her, it would explain the incessant calls, the moon eyes, the distaste she had for you — all of it. The doubt continued to gnaw away at you and you didn’t sleep so well the first few nights after the talk with Poppernak.

Finally, one day you asked Beau point-blank if anything was going on between him and Hoyt. Once he closed his gaping mouth and put his eyes back into his head, he assured you they were just friends and he was her boss. She had been through some ordeals herself and he was just trying to be there for her, to give her support when she needed it. Nothing more. You knew it was complete and utter bullshit or Beau wouldn’t have been so suddenly interested in the case file on his desk. A case file you knew had been sitting there for the past two days.

There was no way that Beau was ignorant of Hoyt's attraction to him. The woman practically had a flashing neon sign on her forehead every time she looked at him, not to mention she had pulled out all the stops to let him know she was very much interested. Beau was an affectionate person by nature so little touches here and there between you were par for the course with him if you were his best friend, as long as they were welcomed and didn’t cross any lines or make you feel uncomfortable. There wasn’t a single opportunity Hoyt didn’t take to get her hands on Beau or to get those little touches out of him. Of course he knew; he had to. All of this was so blatant, everyone else around them knew, too, hence the rumors swirling around the department. Even Carla knew, as she’d mentioned to you one afternoon, and if you thought you didn’t care for Hoyt, then the former Mrs. Arlen downright despised the woman. People who Beau and Hoyt didn’t know knew, as evidenced by a witness at a crime scene asking to speak to the sheriff’s girlfriend again. Yet, if he was willfully ignoring her consistently throwing herself at him, then there was nothing more you could say. To his credit, you had never seen him return any flirtation or interest, no matter how hard Hoyt was putting herself out there, before or after your conversation with him.

There were a couple of times you discreetly noticed the hurt in Hoyt’s face when Beau chose to accompany you on a case, if he and Cassie were laughing together, or if he was extra tender with Carla when she would drop by the station to talk about Emily. It quickly became clear that this was more than a crush or some simple attraction; the blonde had serious feelings for your best friend. Knowing Beau the way you did and everything he’d been through the past few years, it shouldn’t surprise you if he was purposely putting blinders on when it came to this topic. Beau had dated some since his divorce, but he wasn’t ready to get serious with anyone. At least that’s what he’d told you time and time again, back in Houston and now here. It had taken him some time to get over his ex-wife and now Emily and his job were his top priorities. While deep down you might have a very tiny trace amount of sympathy for the blonde, Beau was the one who mattered to you in this equation. If Hoyt wanted to keep chasing after her emotionally unavailable boss, then that decision was on her. It wasn’t like Cassie hadn’t warned her, something the PI had mentioned to you one night after a few drinks while you both sat at a table, watching Hoyt pulling Beau onto the dance floor despite his clear reluctance. So if your best friend lived more comfortably in the land of Hoyt-is-just-being-extra-friendly-because-she-appreciates-my-friendship, then who were you to burst that bubble?

It did bother you tremendously though to see Beau not putting up any kind of boundaries whatsoever with Hoyt even though they were sorely needed. So, in your own subtle way, from time to time, you tried to suggest he put one up… Maybe two. He would humor you and hear you out, but then he’d either pick up the phone the next time she called him on a day off or he’d refuse, saying she was in a fragile state right now and he couldn’t afford to put distance there when she needed his support. After a few instances of this craziness and Hoyt’s attitude with you grew, you stopped being subtle which resulted in arguments that turned into yelling matches, tense silences on the rare ride-along, slammed doors (usually at your place since a slammed door at Beau’s would most likely have knocked that thing over; Pedro’s door was a good replacement though—that thing may be old but it was strong like a tank), refusals to look at one another, crossed arms, and sometimes radio silence for a few days if the disagreement had reached a bad enough point. You were always professional when on the clock and you always resolved things eventually, but this was one sticking point neither of you budged from. You knew Beau was a good man and had a heart of gold, something you loved and respected about him, but he could sure be infuriatingly stubborn at times.

And while you could admit Hoyt was a decent, hardworking cop, she was also a decent-sized, hardworking pain in your ass. You knew she’d be a problem for you and boy had she been. Her whole thing with the sheriff aside, it was no surprise that the source of her hostility towards you was the man himself, namely your friendship with him. You both were close and even though nothing had ever happened between you, it became clear that the blonde detested any familiarity or affection shown by either of you to each other. You thought it was ridiculous and you refused to change your relationship or how you did things just because she was eager for your friend to look at her the way she had been looking at him. In fact, whenever you were around, she turned her obvious coyness and see-through flirting attempts up a notch. Presently, as of a few weeks ago, Hoyt had taken to physically marking her territory, or what she considered to be hers, like her sitting on Beau’s desk—right next to him. She’d slide in beside him in your usual booth at The Boot Heel or she’d take the chair next to him during movie nights which would force you and Cassie to sprawl on the deck with a blanket, struggling to get comfortable on the hard wooden planks underneath. You fully expected one of these days to walk in on her jumping Beau right there in his office chair, something you hoped to hell you never did because you would never get that sickening image out of your head.

Sure, you had talked with Beau plenty of times about her open hostility. He had begged you to try to make peace which always made you laugh because you were not the intentional catalyst of all of the contention in this situation.

“I have to make peace. Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of your beer that Beau had offered to you when you arrived at his place a couple of months back.

Beau threw his head back against his chair in disbelief. “I’m just asking you to maybe extend an olive branch. This thing between you two is killing me... And everyone else in the department.”

“Maybe you should tell your undersheriff to, I don’t know, act like an undersheriff?” You ignored Beau’s loud groan and continued. “Isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Run the department while you’re out? My God, Beau, she can’t even go to the bathroom without your permission. You know that, right?”

“Y/N…”

“You and Em were supposed to go fishing last weekend with Cassie and Kai. I was going to take Carla out for the day to catch up and keep her mind off things while Em was gone. Remember that?”

You ignored Beau rolling his eyes. “Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted.

“And what happened?”

“Y/N, a case dropped. Alright? It happens. When a dead body pops up, I need to know about it.”

“Know about it, yes, not work it.” He turned to meet your unflinching gaze. “No more bullshit, Beau. You didn’t make it to Sheriff by being stupid. You’ve worked in a bigger department before, dealt with way more crime, and overseen a bigger force. All on your own. If this were anyone else, you’d have told them to do their goddamn job by now, or you’d get someone else to fill the spot. You’re making excuses for her and you’re holding her hand like she’s a damn 5 year old.”

Beau dug his teeth into his bottom lip, staring at you in thought. “I told you, she’s been through a lot these past two years.”

“And you haven’t? Cassie hasn’t? Your daughter and her mom? Really?”

He let out a deep breath and sipped from his bottle. “We all have. That’s why when one of us needs a hand, we give it without question. When one of us falls, no matter how often or how long it takes, we help them get back up, every single time.”

You swallowed the argument on the tip of your tongue and sat back in your chair, staring down at your bottle and playing with the edge of the label. “Okay, Dr. Phil.”

A laugh erupted from the man and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shaking his head. “I’m just saying we all help each other as best we can. If that means she needs help on a few cases, I’ve got her back.”

“I think you and Hoyt have very different ideas of what the word few means.”

“Y/N, if it was you, if it was Cass, I’d do the same thing. You know that. Look, she was there for me when Em was taken.” You did your best to hide your flinch but it must not have been well enough because his hand suddenly covered both of yours. “You all were,” he clarified. “I’m just trying to return the favor.”

“Sounds like you two are a lot closer than either of you let on,” you mentioned quietly.

When he didn’t respond to that, you snuck a glance up at him. His eyes were glued to you but after a minute, he retracted his hand and dropped his gaze to the deck. “We’re friends.”

You felt a weird sensation in your chest, like something fell into the pit of your stomach with those two words. Beau was a very direct person. He looked you in the eye, he shook your hand, and he didn’t bullshit. That meant if he wasn’t looking at you, if he was feeding you this same line of bullshit, you knew that wasn’t the entire truth. You weren’t sure if it hurt because your best friend was lying to you yet again, possibly still not trusting you with the truth, or if it was due to what he’d said. Either way, you refused to look at it too closely, not wanting this feeling to consume you as it seemed intent on doing. It was easier to put distance there in your mind, to tell yourself that Beau Arlen was a grown man and he could make his own decisions. You just wished he’d get involved with someone better suited for him, like Cassie. Granted, Cassie was with Cormac and they seemed happy, but why couldn’t Beau find his own version of Cassie? Someone who wouldn’t interrupt his time with his daughter, who wouldn’t selfishly absorb all of his time off, who didn’t physically embody the definition of clingy, and who wouldn’t treat his best friend like shit day in and day out?

Honestly, you could care less about what Hoyt thought of you or how she acted towards you. For you, this was all a one-sided issue that Hoyt herself was making. You saw through her bullshit and you didn’t take her crap, and that infuriated the blonde. But what did she expect? After working a short stint in homicide in Manhattan and then with cartels, drug rings, and all sorts of other mess in Houston, very little had the power to intimidate you these days. Certainly not some little Miss Perfect whose work uniform appeared to consist of band t-shirts, leather jackets, and thick long heels as an undersheriff (how did that make for a successful running down of a suspect? seriously), who also batted her eyelashes at her boss and scowled at you from the moment Beau addressed your existence. You’d seen some things in your time and Helena’s runner-up for this Regina George wannabe was a mere speck on the windshield of shit on top of shit. You had no time for it. You just wished sometimes that Beau would stop trying to put it on your shoulders to do something about it, especially when he knew who the real culprit was.

And almost as if he had just heard your thoughts, he hit you with: “I’m asking you if you can be the one to reach out, Y/N, because I know I can rely on you. If I ask her… With Jenny, it’s complicated.”

“Not my problem,” you snapped out, taking another sip and refusing to look at him.

A very tense silence followed for the next few minutes as you both nursed your beers. You half-wondered if this night was going to end in yet another argument about a woman that wasn’t worth wasting a second over. This much disagreement was uncommon for both of you and you hated it. Oh, sure, you’d had your spats over the years but they were pretty minor and easily dissolved. And the silences… Usually, if a silence fell over the both of you, it was comfortable and felt overall peaceful. Not lately, which always seemed to follow a mention of Hoyt in some fashion.

You felt the all-too familiar burning in the corner of your eyes when you had the thought that had been getting louder and louder as more time passed: perhaps your transfer here had been a mistake. You didn’t regret being here to help when Emily was taken, but maybe once she was safely back home, you should have returned to yours. While Beau had made room for you in the department, there wasn’t really a place for you here; as much as you enjoyed spending time with your favorite family and new friends like Cassie, the person you had dropped everything and moved across state lines for was on the other side of a huge chasm that hadn’t been there before his move up north. It was growing every single day and you had no idea how to stop its progress or bridge the gap. You did your job well and deep down, you knew you would be more efficient elsewhere. You settled into the Montanan lifestyle as best you could but you had to admit to yourself that you knew it wasn’t a perfect fit. The more time passed, the more and more you believed your decision to be a mistake. The man you cared most about in this world had called you, told you he needed you, and you jumped without hesitation, not sparing a single thought or even looking to see where you’d land. Were you really that surprised that things were turning out this way? And every single time Hoyt threw hostility your way, it reinforced what you already knew to be true, the very message she had been sending you these past six months: you didn’t belong here. You turned your head to the side to discreetly wipe away a tear that had managed to escape and you took a breath to prevent any more, telling yourself to get it together.

You waited for your eyes to clear, to push back down the swell of emotions inside you, and took one last sip of your beer. Just as you were about to announce it was time for you to head home and thank him for the drinks, Beau spoke up. “See that?”

You glanced up to where he was pointing and caught the tail end of a shooting star. A small smile formed on your face as you took in the night sky. You had never seen anything like that before. That was one thing you’d give Montana. It was hard to believe but the sky was so different compared to Texas and definitely not the same as New York. Everything up here was so clear and beautiful. Big Sky Country indeed.

One night you, Beau, and Cassie had taken to trying to pick out as many constellations as you could find on Cassie’s smartphone. You were not completely successful but there were a lot of laughs as you all tried your best and then there had even been a very interesting conversation about UFOs and the possibility of extraterrestrial life. That had been a night for the books, especially when you and Cassie broke out into fits of drunken giggles when you grabbed Beau’s nose and made a weird mix of a boop and honking sound when you all discussed how you would greet aliens should they ever show up but were not hostile towards humanity. Beau had merely rolled his eyes in good humor and promptly cut you and Cassie off for the rest of the night, taking car keys from the both of you.

“A shooting star,” you whispered in amazement. “I think you’re supposed to make a wish on them, right? Did you make one?” You kept searching the sky, hoping to see another one so you could do just that. The other one was too fast and you desperately wanted to wish that things would get better and you could make your new home work like you had in Houston. The thought immediately saddened you when you remembered how a certain Texan and his family had helped in that department. You swallowed the lump back down and kept watching the sky, hoping like hell the universe would help you out just this once. Just one more. You weren’t wanting a meteor shower to suddenly happen of course, though that would be amazing to witness. You made a mental note to yourself to google it later to see when and where you could see one.

“Already did.”

Your brows furrowed at his response and you turned to find him watching you closely, almost as if he was waiting for you to realize what that wish had been. When you did, you scoffed and got to your feet, second shooting star and your wish be damned. “I’m not doing the olive branch thing so you can forget it. Not even some small rock from outer space is going to force me to do that one.” You stretched, feeling slightly more energetic than you had a moment ago, most likely due to the irritation you were currently experiencing. “Well, this has been fun but I should head home. Thanks for the beer.”

A hand pulled the nearly empty bottle out of yours and another dug into your jeans pocket, pulling your keys out before you could react. “Beau, what the— I’m fine.”

“Uh huh. Listen, you know the deal. You need to sober up before you leave.”

“I’m not drunk! I’m not even tipsy!”

Beau shot you a look. “It’s late. There’s a possible ice warning for later tonight. You’re staying.”

“I have work tomorrow!”

“Good thing you have such an understanding boss then, huh?” He gave you a wink which made you roll your eyes and fold your arms across your chest.

“If you’re so worried about my blood alcohol level, maybe don’t serve alcohol when I come over?”

“What, and miss great moments like…” He reached up and grabbed your nose, making the same boop-honking sound you had made weeks ago.

You pushed his hands away. “First of all, that is not what I sounded like. Secondly, I’m no lightweight. You know that. How many times have I drunk you under the table?”

He lifted a finger and opened his mouth to argue but then thought it over. “Good point.” You gave an approving nod. “But that was one time, in San Antonio.” He was referring to the day trip you had taken so you could visit the Alamo. You had never been and when you mentioned it, he insisted on being your guide. Carla and Emily were supposed to go as well but the latter had gotten sick so her mom stayed home with her. Beau didn’t want to leave Emily and you were willing to reschedule but Carla insisted you both still go. When you visited a bar later on, Beau issued a little friendly drinking competition between the two of you, as long as one of you was still sober enough to drive home. He had been convinced he would emerge victorious; he was wrong. That had been a long ride on the I-10. By the end of the night, Carla had her hands full with two sick people, each having their own trash baskets by their bedsides. It took some time but she eventually forgave you.

You held up two fingers. “Twice actually. You didn’t really think I’d let you forget Austin’s birthday party at that place in downtown Houston, did you?”

The man winced. “Alright, alright. Twice.” You nodded in approval. “Now, all the talk about drinking aside, you did just remind me how my time with people I care about has been interrupted quite a bit lately. Even if you’re set to drive, just stay. We can watch a movie and you can have the bed.”

A part of you wanted to accept but the other part wanted to retreat to your sanctuary, where you could break down in tears or mope around in peace. “I don’t really want to spend another night in the tin can,” you whined. “My bed is so much more comfortable and I feel it calling to me right now…” You glanced longingly in the direction of the road.

Beau’s jaw dropped. “Tin can? Between you and Em, I swear… Why can’t my girl get any respect around here?”

“Because you refer to it as a girl. You know how I feel about that.” Another eye-roll. “Beau Arlen, you keep rolling those eyes of yours at me, they’re going to fall out of your head. You just wait.”

“Sure they will.” He laid an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer and giving you a smirk. You couldn’t help but lean into him, hoping to feel that closeness between you again even if it was only physically. “What if I whip out some marshmallows? Whaddya say?”

“Are you really trying to bribe me to spend the night? With a gooey, sugary, yet very deliciously fluffy confectionery treat, no less?”

“Is it working?”

You shrugged though deep down you knew it was. Marshmallows over a fire were your kryptonite and the son of a bitch knew it. “Tell me you have graham crackers and some chocolate that’s not expired, and you’ve got a deal.”

He beamed at you like a kid seeing wrapped presents under the tree on Christmas morning, making your heart feel a little lighter. How could you say no to that?

A few s’mores and quite a few more beers later, you were snuggled into his side, rapidly falling asleep. He had insisted you sit with him in his chair so you could both huddle under his one blanket for warmth on the cold night. Your drunken giggles may have made a reappearance as he worked to adjust the both of you for maximum blanket coverage but you would never admit to it if ever questioned in open court. You swore you’d buy him a few more blankets, especially when the thought popped into your head that there was a possibility that he and Hoyt had cuddled and done God knew what else under that thing. You’d even tried to wiggle it off of you since the thought took root in your stomach and soured (or maybe that was the beer), but Beau kept tucking it around you and pulling you closer until you finally gave up and settled against him with a sigh. The sound of his heartbeat and his deep voice as he spoke to you lulled you into slumber almost immediately. You thought you felt his lips brush against your forehead and you could have sworn he said something akin to “Definitely came true” but you had practically drunk your weight in beer and you were exhausted from the late hour as well as all of the roiling emotions inside of you so you couldn’t be sure it wasn’t something you dreamt instead. When you woke up with a massive headache the next day, alone in Beau’s bed with the blanket completely wrapped around you while the man snored from the couch, a dream was definitely what you chalked it up to.

And now here you were, yet again, at another impasse over the insufferable pain in your ass named Jenny Hoyt. The woman barely interacted with you, preferring to act like you didn’t exist or to silently glare at you from across the room, and she wasn’t even here, but somehow there she was, always in between the two of you. It really made you miss the old days, back before things went to shit for Beau in Houston. Back when things were a lot less complicated.

“Davis is booking Webb so I’ll go finish up the paperwork.” You turned to head towards the door.

“Y/N,” Beau sighed, giving you a pleading look.

“Thanks for the talk. I’ll catch you later.” You sent a forced smile his way and slowly spun out the door, closing it behind you. Passing by Poppernak on your way to your desk, you snatched a muffin right out of his hand.

“Hey! That’s the only blueberry from the bag. Madge got the other.”

“That sucks,” you teased before breaking off a piece of the top and tossing it into your mouth. “I thought you liked chocolate chip, anyway.”

“Nah, not anymore. It gives me bad heartburn,” he confirmed sadly.

You couldn’t help but arch a brow at him. “And blueberry doesn’t?”

He shrugged. “Not as much.”

With a roll of your eyes, you tossed the muffin back at him and he caught it with a bright smile. You slipped the paper out of your back pocket and punched a familiar number into your phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Your mother, Pepper Snaps.” Poppernak frowned over at you. You couldn’t blame him; you were being a total crankpot. It wasn’t just your recent conversation with Beau or Hoyt’s attitude or even your most recent case. You hated that you had to sit at a desk in the middle of a busy station while Beau and Hoyt got to have their own offices. Normally, you wouldn’t care, but when it came to phone calls or conversations best kept away from prying eyes and overeager ears, it was frustrating. You weren’t a deputy — you had as much authority as Hoyt, and Beau had made that perfectly clear to the department when you started (though you had a different title due to politics and budgetary reasons). Due to lack of room, however, you were forced to share a space with them, your deskmate being Poppernak. Not that you minded but damn the rest of the department could be so nosy sometimes. When you noticed a couple of other deputies watching you, you asked loudly, “Can’t a girl get some privacy around here?” All of them looked away, not willing to enter into yet another glaredown with you. They never emerged victorious in those encounters, even Miller who could be a real jerk when he wanted to be. They had all learned very quickly in your first week that you could hold your own and you could go endless rounds with the best of them. You could stand the heat and before long, it would be your kitchen and they’d be burnt to a goddamn crisp or running for the door.

“Mind your muffin,” you grumbled to Pops.

When the line connected and the operator asked you who you were trying to contact, you cupped your hand over the mouthpiece and asked for the department you needed. While you were being transferred, Pops arched his eyebrows at you in question since he had overheard you because no damn privacy.

You let out a sigh in resignation and shook your head. “I’m following up on a case. It’s nothing.”

“Sure sounds like something,” Pops said through a mouthful of muffin.

Giving him a look, you sat back in your chair and listened patiently to the public information that substituted what normally would be hold music. You thought back to your ride over to the station and what Webb had said while in the back of your car. You may have pushed the right buttons to get him to open up and say enough to help you make the decision you just made, but you didn’t have any evidence that anything he’d mentioned was the truth. Still, you knew what you saw and you knew what your instincts were telling you. Like Beau said, you couldn’t get involved but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do something.

A few minutes later, after consistently turning Webb’s words over and over in your mind and listening to the same public safety message for the twelfth time, someone finally answered.

“Agent Sanchez? It’s Y/N Y/L/N. Not sure if you remember me from the Carter case last year. How’ve you been?” Carter had been an escaped convict that a manhunt had been on for last year, and it had been an all hands on deck situation. You and your partner had been stuck with Sanchez and this other dickish agent whose name wasn’t even worth remembering, but you and Sanchez had gotten along well enough to help get the job done. In the end, Carter had been apprehended and dumped back in prison thanks to the cooperation and joint efforts of all of the agencies involved.

You made a little small talk and then you got right to the point. “Listen, do you happen to have any contacts in the branch office in Montana? You do? Do you think you could put me in touch? I have a case up here that I think one of their departments might want to take a look at.”

Sanchez gave you the name and number of his contact, told you to keep him updated, and let him know if you needed anything else. He also mentioned you should call him to go for a drink next time you were in town. Remembering the wedding ring he had been sporting, you gave him a vague but polite noncommittal, thanked him, and promptly hung up. You glanced up to find Pops staring at you wide-eyed.

“What?”

He glanced around, seeming unsure, and then leaned in closer. “Does the boss know you’re doing this? Because if Hoyt finds out you’re pulling the Feds into this, she’s going to—”

You held up a hand after you dialed the next number and unfolded the paper from your pocket, looking at the information you needed. “Pops, let me stop you right there. I spoke to the sheriff already about this case. What Hoyt does or doesn’t do, doesn’t concern me, and the same goes for her where I’m concerned. Understood?”

Poppernak shook his head and leaned back. “Okay but it’s your head if she finds out. Just warning you.”

You gave him a wide grin right before the line connected once again. “She can try.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 👉👈

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