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c4tluver02 · 2 days ago

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party mishaps

wc: 3.2k

summary: You and Steve go to Tommy's party, it's fun and you two have a a great time. That is until a drink is spilt on you and Steve gets flashbacks from the last time this happened.

cw: r wearing a bra, r being shorter than Steve, drinking, partying, being drunk, hurt/comfort, slight fight (so small barely), happy ending, fluffff

When Steve told you about the party happening tonight you immediately agreed to going. It would be the first outing you have as a couple.

Of course people knew you were dating, and it wasn't like you hid it from the world. Anyone who walked past you could tell you were dating– Steve always had an arm around you or a hand shoved in your back pocket.

But for the people who see you around school, the girls who talk behind your back about how Steve used to be, it meant something. Because you would be able to finally show off how strong you and Steve are. The relationship being somewhat new but solid nonetheless.

You knew about his past relationships, how the meaningless sex made him feel, what Nancy did to him. None of it was lost on you, the things Steve has had to put up with.

That's why when he calls you asking you to come over you do. And when it’s just you and him in his empty house he finally starts to feel warm. Like the feeling of another being is bringing him back to life. What once was a house with bones is now filled with a heart and soul, something it severely lacked without you.

And when it’s late at night, your legs are tangled with his, he finally asks. This party he wants you to attend would be hosted by Tommy and Carol so you wouldn't be alone. You think he knows that's barely a selling point, not really friends with them, but still him letting you know was nice to hear.

Steve doesn't really go to parties anymore, and for him to ask you to come felt like a big step. You know Steve, if you aren't into it he has no problem leaving. Plus it would be nice to have a fun night out with him, one that involves you getting into a cute outfit and hearing compliments on how pretty you look.

–

As you got ready for the party you heard Steve open the door, his keys make a loud noise when they hit the glass bowl.

“Baby?” His voice booms even louder.

“M’upstairs!”

The staircase is just as loud, the old wood creaks with every step he takes.

“I just talked to Tommy, apparently people are already getting there, whatever happened to being fashionably late?” He stops at your door with a hip pop and a hand to rest there.

You are putting on a necklace in front of your mirror but your hair keeps getting in the way, making it hard.

“Want help?”

“Please.” You give him the necklace as you lift up your hair. Once he clasps it together he gives your shoulder a small kiss.

Your outfit consisted of a tank top and a jean skirt, not wanting to be too uncomfortable but still look presentable. Anything that shows you legs will have Steve begging for you so it’s a win either way.

“You look really pretty.” He says as he gives you a full look up and down. He’s leaning against your bed frame and you won't lie he looks even better.

“Thank you” You turn around giving him a long awaited kiss. “Are you ready to go?” You never do your lipstick until you’re in Steve's car for this very reason.

“Yeah, let's go.” His hand gives your hand a small squeeze before you turn to walk towards the door.

Steve opens the car door for you like the gentleman he is, and even gives you another kiss once you’re settled in with your seatbelt on. You can see him stare at your legs for a split second.

“You feeling some Beatles or maybe Madonna?” You ask sorting through his many tapes. He’s already getting into the driver's seat as you ask.

“Whatever you want honey, it’s not too far away.” His hand is already on your thigh.

Despite his comment about the distance his humming to the songs is loud. Long fingers drumming against your warm thigh, soft from a lotion he always says is his favorite smell. Steve loves to sing in the car, and thankfully he’s not bad at it. On your third date he sang you a song from a tape he made and you felt your heart double in size.

When you turn into Tommys street you can already hear the loud music. Multiple cars park around his house and Steve gets lucky that his car is just small enough for a spot. As he helps you out of the car you can hear a loud whistle come from the other side of the street. It’s two old guys who are sitting in plastic chairs with a beer in hand– other alcoholic drinks surround them.

Steve flips them off and walks behind you the whole way to the door. When walking into the house the music only gets louder and colorful lights appear on the walls. It’s not pitch black but it certainly isn't brightly lit, allowing people to make out in corners without being spotted.

“D’you want a drink?” Steve asks, hand grabbing onto your own.

You give him a nod as you run your nails up and down his arm. The last thing you want to do is be separated by Steve, even if it’s to get a drink. The old guys already got you in a bad mood.

Steve is really great at making drinks, he always knows exactly how much you want or what flavors you would like. As he makes it you take a chance to look around at the people dancing. Sweaty bodies grinding against other sweaty bodies, not a care in the world. You see some girls from your english class, if all else fails you could always talk to them.

Steve’s hand on your waist brings you back to him, a pinkish drink is in his reached out hand.

“I added pink lemonade, if it’s still too bitter let me know.”

You give him a small ‘thank you’ that he 100% doesn't hear but his eyes were already on your lips, easily reading them. He grabs a beer for himself, using the edge of the counter to take the lid off.

The drink is a little bitter but not anything you can't handle. When you see Carol walk your way you already know you’re gonna need a few more of these pink drinks. She’s wearing an extremely short dress, one you’re sure Tommy yelled at her for wearing. She’s probably only wearing it to rebel against him, the way it pushes her boobs up and together looks extremely uncomfortable, like it's just a size or two too small but still she fits.

“Hey you two! Have you seen Tommy?” The slur mixed with her speech tells you all you need to know.

“Nope, we just got here. He’s probably smoking out back.” Steve answers, sipping on his beer.

“He quit smoking, no way he’s back there.” She says looking through the crowd of people. It gives you a second to look at Steve as he shakes his head at you, as if to say ‘no he didn't’.

Her drunk state probably isn't helping her look so you take her hand and make your way through the crowd. Steve is talking to some guys in the kitchen but his eyes are still on you.

“Where did you last see him?” You are already almost done with your drink, the small glass plus ice did not give you much.

“I went to get us drinks and he walked away.” She holds up the two bottles of beer in her hand, both opened ready to drink.

Thankfully she isn't looking at the staircase because when you finally spot Tommy he’s with a blond girl walking down the steps. She presses a kiss to his cheek, lipstick leaving a print, and in seconds you are trying to think of a way to get Carol away so you can pull them apart.

But her head turns too fast, her gaze follows yours, and she's already caught them. Her hand rips away from yours as she stomps over to the two people. The blond is quick to walk away, not wanting to be part of the whole fight, probably just wanting a guy to take home. When Carol dumps the beer on Tommy you walk away too, something you also don't want to get involved with.

Steve is still in the kitchen talking to the same people you saw him with when you left a few minutes ago. But this time a new pink drink is sitting next to his beer, all perfect and ready for you. Putting the old glass in the sink you pick up the new one, it doesn't have as much ice, or maybe it’s melted from your time away. This one is stronger, the alcohol hits you quickly, making your eyes pinch together as you shake your head.

“Too much?” Steve asks with a laugh. His arm snakes around your waist again.

“Nope, perfect, thank you.” This time he hears you say it, faces so close together he just has to give you a kiss.

Before you can deepen it he lets go. “Did Carol find Tommy?” You’re practically leaning your body against him, going completely limp into him.

“Yep, with another girl.” His eyes widen and then roll. The shock lasted about 2 seconds before it wore off.

You don't even give him a chance to say anything back, going in for another kiss. This time it’s deeper, longer, and says more. But the sound of another person entering the kitchen forces you two apart, Steve grabs your glass off the counter.

“Hey, if you two need to use my room you can.” Tommy says with a wink. His shirt is completely soaked from the beer Carol dumped on him, the kiss print still bright on his cheek.

Steve just gives him a small nod as he takes your hand to get you two out of the kitchen. Now that it’s taken over by Tommy you need a new spot. He nods when you point to a couch in the corner of the room, a nice lamp stands next to it, meant for a reading nook. It’s quite small, really only fitting two people or maybe one person who puts their legs out. Still it works for you both, turning on the lamp is a huge plus. Every other light in this house, besides the kitchen, is multi-colored so the nice warmth is appreciated.

The more you and Steve talk in that corner the more the drinks flow. Every once in a while you’ll get up to get two beers, when Steve gets up he comes back with a beer and a new colorful drink. The longer you sit on the couch the less you care about the drinks and more about the effect it gives.

You start to get up again, ready for another drink but this time Steve pulls you back down. He says something as you land back on the seat but you can't hear it, it makes you tap on your ear hoping he gets the gist.

“No more okay?” He yells into your ear, the current song playing is way louder than the others.

And the pout he receives is deadly. Your already glassy eyes become more prominent, the lip you stick out is lightly red from your leftover lipstick, and the whine that leaves you isn't missed on him. He should really cut you off but when has Steve ever been able to deny that face?

Although you were originally trying to get it, he decides it’s best you stay seated. Your body is loosey goosey thanks to the alcohol, not a good way to walk around a crowded room.

When he comes back with two drinks the smile is back on your face. After this Steve will man up and say no to you but for now he lets you chug the bottle down with no argument. He wants you to have fun after all, tomorrow you will hate yourself for it but right now the smile on your face is so pretty. He wishes he brought his camera you look so good, even all drunk and messy with your legs thrown over his lap. His hand is warm on your thigh keeping your skirt in place so it doesn't roll up and when you notice he isn't even touching his new bottle you make grabby hands for it.

He lifts it up high so you can't reach, shorter than him sitting down and your arms are not as long enough to grab it.

So when you swiftly move your legs off of his lap and stand you can reach it with ease. Grabbing onto the neck of the bottle, trying to get it your way. It all happened so quick, Steve was just playing around. But when you yank too hard on the neck it tips and all of the liquid falls out onto you. Similarly to Tommy, it soaks your chest, the white shirt you have on becoming see through. You’re left sticky and shiny with tears filling your eyes.

You forcefully push yourself away from Steve and he catches you before you tumble backwards. His hands grabbing onto your wrists tightly. This only makes you angrier. You struggle to get away from him but his grip is too tight.

Steve is getting the worst flashbacks from his last party of spilling a drink on his date. The way it ended, the words said, it all came back to him so fast. If you were in a normal state of mind you would be aware of this, probably not even mad about a drink spilt by Steve. But with the alcohol coursing through you and the drunk state of mind none of that comes through.

“C’mere let's go to the bathroom.” His hands move from your wrists to your hips, pushing you both through the crowd. He’s too strong for you to pull away from, especially in your wasted state.

It’s crazy how much the bathroom door blocks out the loud music. It’s like you can finally think again and you can even hear his sigh as he looks at the two of you in the mirror. Despite the slight smudge of mascara and the loss of lipstick you look pretty much the same. Except your shirt is now showing your bra and the shine from the beer is glowing from the light.

“Will you let me help you clean up?” He’s still looking at you through the mirror, you stand there with your arms crossed thinking. You really aren't terribly upset, it’s not like he was mad at you like Carol was with Tommy. It was an accident, but still it happened and you were just trying to have fun. There was no need for him to be such a party crasher, even if he was just looking out for you, you know when you need to stop.

Still you give him a nod as you turn to face him, he brings his hands back to your hips. You know what he's doing from your few times of making out in bathrooms. He says a little ‘jump’ as he lifts you up onto the sink counter. Slipping himself into your legs, all in your personal space.

He grabs a hand towel from below the sink and wets it. Neither of you are talking and the fact that you're so drunk your boyfriend has to clean you up is making you want to cry again. This was not how the night was supposed to go, you two were having such a nice time talking and dancing to the music.

“I'm sorry baby, I really am.” He gently lifts your chin so you can look at him. His eyes are downturned, the sad expression that takes over his face is enough to have you break as well.

“I’m sorry too, I didn't mean to drink so much. I was just having fun.”

Steve can't help but think about how different this is to him and Nancy. Both of you apologizing even though nothing was done on purpose, neither of you have done anything wrong. No mentions of how your relationship was bullshit or you that weren't actually in love.

The towel is nice and cold against your burning skin, he’s being so soft with you in this moment. You want to kiss him, the only time you are put onto bathroom counters is to kiss so it’s weird that you feel like you can't.

“I’ll grab a shirt from Tommy’s room, you wanna wear mine?” The last thing Steve wants to happen is for the old pervs outside to see your completely see through white tank top.

“Yeah, good idea.” He gives you a small smile and you feverishly give one back.

He pats your thighs as he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You hop back down on the ground and take your shirt off, allowing you to get more of the beer that is still on you. Now that a million people aren't surrounding you, you’re getting really cold. Goosebumps litter your skin and at the moment all you want to do is go home with Steve.

When he comes back he is wearing a plain black shirt, the one he just had on in his hands.

“Are you okay?” His voice comes out heart achingly sincere.

“M’okay, thank you.” Your arms wrap around him as you pull him into a hug. The beer also got your bra and he can feel how cold it is through his t-shirt.

His hands rub up and down your back in hopes to warm you up and you giggle.

“That tickles.” It murmured into his chest.

“Let's get this shirt on and we can go yeah?”

You nod letting go of him and he puts the shirt over your head. Each arm slips in their respective place and he opens the door, music and lights hit you immediately and it makes you even happier to get out of here.

An arm wraps around your shoulders and both of you make your way to the car. It was a good idea for Steve to give you his shirt because the old men are still there, this time with even more bottles around them.

When both of you get settled into the car you turn towards Steev and it makes him pause.

“Kisses?” You ask, puckering your lips.

He breaks into a smile, the famous Steve Harringotn one that took your heart the second you first saw it. His hands grab onto your cheeks and he pulls you into him. The kiss is passionate and strong, you are still drunk though so when you let out another giggle Steve doesn't hold you to it.

He starts the car and puts it in drive as you kiss along his neck. You’re a big distraction when he’s driving home but it doesn't matter. When you get home he’ll run a bath for you and the spilt drink won't even be thought of.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #stranger things au #writing #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x y/n

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natscqtorccio · 1 day ago

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hear me out… rockstar!natalie with a gf who’s really sensitive and loves pushing her to her limit (overstimulating her)

YES… you get it… // nsfw rockstar!nat x preppy/nerdy!reader

nat takes great care to learn everything about what you enjoy in bed and where on your body you’re the most sensitive… loves the way you hiss her name when she bites your neck a little harder than usual, the way you arch your back when she has her mouth on your chest, the way you squirm when she knows you’re close to coming…

it’s also just so easy for her to get you all flustered, with even just a little bit of pda… her putting her arm around your waist, pulling you close into her and she Knows that’s going to make you blush… and even More if she ever pulls you sitting onto her lap, her hand resting on your thigh…

imagining you with your hands cuffed above your head, and nat currently has her mouth around one of your nipples… the way she nips down just hard enough for you to whine, tugging at your nipple just a little bit with her teeth, her hand pinching down on the other nipple… your chest being so sensitive that she can make you come, just from doing this and it doesn’t even take that long..

after she makes you come for the first time that night like that, she would eat you out for so long, even if her jaw starts to ache… she’s lowkey obsessed with the taste of you.. the way her tongue pushes and thrusts into you, curling, like she’s desperate to taste you.. you know you’re in for a long night, when she makes you come with her mouth.. and she doesn’t stop..

she just keeps going- making you come from eating you out, once-twice-three times- her jaw slick with your climax, as she looks up at you with hooded eyes.. you start to squirm, and whine, feeling so overwhelmed and overstimulated, whimpering at her “n-nat- please- i can’t take anymore”, and nat pulls away just long enough to tell you “just one more baby, for me, you can do that for me, can’t you, princess?” it’s never just one more…

at one point she ends up pulling your legs over her shoulders as she buries her face between your thighs, because you keep squirming and trying to close your legs… you’re so overstimulated but it still feels so good, it actually brings you to tears when she makes you come for the last time (and she thinks you look even prettier with some tears running down your cheeks, as she Eventually pulls herself away to move up, kissing away the tears and giving you aftercare.).

#anons #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #rockstar!nat #🔞#my ramblings #my headcanons

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wastefulreverie · 2 days ago

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DP writing prompt: in which Danny wakes up from nightmare after nightmare, right before the scalpel cuts his skin.

taking writing prompts!!

The snap of latex gloves, the dizzying smell of antiseptic and the chill of cold metal at his back. The sharp, unyielding surgical light adjusted to blot out most of his vision. And the sound of metal on metal as his parents sort through their tools, selecting which knife will do the honors. He's long since been stripped of his suit, vulnerable to whatever fresh horrors they have in store.

Mom's stance is poised and delicate and it's the same look she has when mending his clothes after they get mangled in fights. I just tripped, he tells her and she shakes her head and puts his clothes back together again. Now the scalpel in her hand is meant to undo him. Pull him apart.

The cool metal has barely just grazed his torso when Danny jolts awake.

His cheek is wet with drool and he lifts his head as slowly as he can muster, willing his heart rate to slow with careful and steady breaths. An ingrained routine at this point. Look forward, focus on the whiteboard like it's the only thing in the world that matters.

"Fenton?" Dash says, beside him. Eugh, that's right. Detention with Lancer.

He lucked out today, because it looks like he feel asleep while Lancer was out of the room.

"What," he says. "Can't a guy get a minute's rest?"

"That—that didn't look like rest," is all Dash says, an uncharacteristic observation from the biggest human pain in his ass.

"Cool," Danny nods. He looks down at the assignment he's supposed to be working on. He nodded off halfway through the first question, so undeniably he's fucked.

He follows his previous work, double checking the equations and trying to figure out where the hell he is going wrong. If he doesn't have at least the first question before Lancer gets back...

"Are you alright?" Dash adds.

Danny lowers his pencil. "Why the hell do you care?"

Dash opens and his mouth and shuts it. "You were really... um. Twitching a lot and muttering things. About your parents."

"I'm fine. It was a nightmare, nothing real," Danny explains, as if speaking to a toddler. "You gonna bully me for having bad dreams now, or something? Tell everyone in school that I'm scared shitless asleep, too? Go ahead, see if I care."

He has bigger problems.

"That's not—" he runs a hand over his face. "Fine, okay. Yeah, you're right. It's nothing and not my fucking business what kind of nightmares losers like you are having. Just stop being so fucking weird."

Danny tries to return to his assignment, but his attention keeps slipping back to Dash and his watchful eyes. Like someone had removed the wool from his eyes and he was seeing Danny for the first time as a person and not a punching bag. What the hell.

Lancer returns shortly and Dash is quiet. Too quiet, but Danny doesn't care. It's not until their way out of detention that Dash stops Danny with a gentle slam into the wall and asks him:

"Why are you afraid of them cutting you up?"

Danny rolls his eyes. "We all have irrational fears, Dash. Shove it."

He pushes his way out of his grip and keeps walking. He just has to hope that the idiot won't bring it up again, like it's even a big deal. So what? Danny dreams about them ripping him apart all the time, it doesn't have to mean anything unless he thinks too hard about it. Because it's not going to happen. (Probably.)

"Your family is nuts!" Dash calls after him. "You're nuts too!"

Despite himself, Danny just laughs.

#danny phantom #dash baxter #danny fenton #cw vivisection #wrwritings #danny phantom fanfiction #phicc #dponly #fanfic #fanfiction

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whenmemorydies · 1 day ago

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White supremacist capitalist patriarchy and season 4 of The Bear

I hear folks who are absolutely pissed that it looks like season 4 of The Bear ended with a petulant Carmy who got knocked off his pedestal, running cos now he doesn't know what to do with himself. I hear the anger. I also viscerally raged as I binge watched last night. For me, a lot of this had to do with the idea that this white man who is so used to being excellent, now has to deal with maybe not being excellent. But instead of dealing, it looks like he's vanishing. Like his dad did. Repeating old patterns.

But on a very rough night's sleep worth of reflection, I've come to the conclusion that this is probably a legerdemain. Let me explain.

Carmy is part of a system - white supremacist capitalist patriarchy to be exact. And that system ascribes roles and expectations on everyone that gets subjected to it. Including white folks. I've talked about Carmy's racialisation here but the TLDR of it is that Carmy is part of the Italian-American community that has been assimilated into whiteness over time in America. As a white man he sits at the top of a racial hieriarchy with a history and current reality of horrendous violence and control. He grew up and worked in cultures that valorised a toxic, violent, white masculinity that expected him to perform excellence, dominate and control everything around him as a result.

The rest of us - particularly racialised women (I'm a non-Black, diasporic woman of colour so I can't speak to Syd's specific experience but I think this holds true for all WOC) - we are never expected to dominate. We are often expected to be excellent because of the time and resources invested in us by our parents and communities and because of white supremacist capitalist patriarchy's insistence that mediocrity is a luxury that only white folks get to enjoy without being penalised. This garbage catch-22 is most starkly articulated by Syd during her nightmare in 4x08 Green:

Syd: And then, you're gonna take a perfect little sliver of chive, put that all on top, and it'll be great. And of course, if your dish fails, its no worry at all, no trouble, really. You'll just be a complete waste of space and a failure and a disappointment to anybody who's devoted any time or energy to you.

So how does a white man like Carmy - who was never socialised to be of service in community, who was raised throughout childhood and his career to smoke others, to prove that he could smoke others ("fuck you, watch this") - how does that white man navigate a world where he's no longer the best? Where he's no longer in control?

If that white man was integrated and mature? Well he wouldn't have been trying to dominate in the first place. But for argument's sake and in this context, if this hypothetical white man was those things - integrated and mature - maybe, he might take a step back and let others lead.

But Carmy isn't integrated. He's not there yet. Realistically, he does have to unlearn a lifetime of abuse, socialisation, racialisation and his own dysfunctional coping strategies so that he doesn't keep hurting people. He does have to figure out who he is without all of this bullshit. Honestly, as infuriating as this was to watch...I get it?

The frustration is that we, the viewers, have seen all the characteristics that Carmy identifies in Syd in that fight from 4x10, in him too. In 4x10, Carmy tells Syd:

You are considerate. You...You allow yourself to feel things, right? You allow yourself to care. You are a natural leader and teacher.

Across this show, we have seen Carmy be considerate of others, most significantly of the BIPOC people in his life (bringing all the crew at The Beef over with him to The Bear, giving his chef's knife to Tina, making Sydney The Bear's captain), we have seen him deeply feel (see Carmy's long overdue confrontation of his abuser, Chef David Fields in 3x10), we have seen him care (see Carmy's incessant checking in with Syd throughout this show), and we've seen him lead and teach his team (see Carmy walking the crew through how to make chicken piccata in season 1).

We know that Carmy is good. We know that he's deserving of Syd's love and that she is more than deserving of his. We know that folks can chew gum and walk at the same fucking time and so we - I mean most definitely me - yell at the TV screen (and on this platform lol): WHAT THE FUCK MAN? GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND BE THERE FOR SYDNEY, THE OTHER HALF OF YOUR HEART!!!!

But Carmy, and a lot of other straight, white men (and white women, quite frankly), probably don't know this about themselves. They probably don't know that its not being a soft shitty bitch when you're considerate of others, that you can feel hurt and pain and survive it, that you can care about others and have that be a strength, and that you can lead quietly and consistently without swinging your dick and trying to smoke motherfuckers.

I mean, America. Look at who the majority of white voters - that's white men and white women - elected to lead your country, for fucks sake.

This is white supremacy culture at work. This is the Berzatto's intergenerational, racialised trauma at work. White supremacist capitalist patriarchy facilitates the conditions for white people to not know themselves in their wholeness. To not know who they are in relation to others and the world. In fact, it invites everyone into this condition (via assimilation). So how do you resist it?

Integration time

How will Carmy fix it? How will he integrate?

Carmy will need to learn about himself. In 4x09 Tonnato, Donna tells him that she doesn't know him and he doesn't know her. This is true.

There is work to be done here in terms of understanding his lineage and the history that makes up Carmy's very skin and bones. But he has already begun doing this: Carmy knowing about tonnato because of his culinary training and imparting that cultural knowledge to his Italian-American mother because she's lost that knowledge or never had it to begin with made me tear up because THIS is the work of integration. Of reclaiming your history. Of resisting assimilation. It fucking hit me in the chest, right in my displaced, diasporic heart.

If Carmy was paying attention, he would have also seen Richie doing this throughout season 2. Recall his basement chat with Carmy in 2x01:

Richie: You know, um, I'm trying really hard to be on board with all this new shit, cousin. I'm, uh, I'm reading a lot. I'm trying to learn about who am I to my history.

Likewise, Sydney spent all of season 2 studying and integrating her past trauma into effective leadership for her team. I know for certain that we are going to learn and see more about Sydney's history in season 5 (if the show gets picked up again) and how this has influenced her professionally and personally.

But then what? What will Carmy do after he's undertaken that work?

This is where Luca's plotline is crucial and not just as a vehicle for us to gush over him and Marcus (which, yes, I gushed. I'm still gushing. They're adorable, supportive of one another and an indecently attractive couple).

Recall the conversation between Luca and Tina in 4x08 Green:

Luca: Pressure.

Tina: How do you get rid of it?

Luca: I think you get to a point where you don't want to. Like, at first the pressure sucks, right? Its the pressure that makes you feel shitty at what you do. And actually, thats just the pressure getting in the way. You learn to live with it. And then, next thing you know, you thrive on it. And before you know it, you can't fucking wait to get rocked. Like, you want that pressure, you need that pressure to be able to perform.

Tina: *looks dubious* (me and you both my Queen lmao)

Luca: So, then, the challenge actually becomes, can you live without that pressure?

Tina: Can you?

Luca: I guess not. 'Cause I'm back here working for Carmy again, so...I'm probably not the person to ask, but you let me know if you find out, Chef.

What Luca is describing, a state of not being able to wait to get rocked? That might be fine every now and then for motivation's sake. But what Luca is describing is a state of mind that folks are expected to be in for the duration of their working lives. He's telling Tina how to survive if she wants to remain working in this system. Wanting to get rocked, learning to live with getting rocked sounds the tagline for any ad selling white supremacist capitalist patriarchy to the masses: With our centuries-old system, you too can learn how to tolerate getting fucked, regularly!

Problem is, we are humans, not replicants (shout out to Richie and Phillip K Dick), and we don't take kindly to being fucked every day of our working lives. The Bear knows this too. Recall Mikey answering Tina's question about whether he likes his work, in 3x06 Napkins: "I definitely do not like never not being fucked."

So the question is, once you become accustomed to this way of life, like Carmy has, like Luca was, like many of us are, can you conceive of a different world? A different way of being?

I know Luca tells Tina in the above convo that he isn't there yet but truthfully, he is. Luca comes back to Chicago to "address things and not run away from things" as he tells Marcus in 4x08 Green. Those things involve his family, namely his sister. He's there to address something to do with his roots. In doing so, he says its made him appreciate the city. He, like Richie, is doing the work of learning about who he is to his history.

To give himself the space to do this, he's come to The Bear to work as a stage - one of the lowest level staff in the hierarchy of a restaurant. This is someone who once worked as a sous at Ever - ranked the best restaurant in the world at one point. He's using the skills he has acquired in the course of his pretty decorated career to support others who have not yet had the same opportunities as him.

Luca is at The Bear, doing the quiet, consistent work I've previously talked about: that work that creates the safe space for inspiration, creativity and dreams to thrive. This is the work of being in community. Luca is in community with Marcus, with Tina, with Gary, with Carmy, with Sydney. He is - without ego - supporting and mentoring Tina and Marcus. Luca is resisting (whether consciously or unconsciously) a white supremacist capitalist patriarchal system that would ordinarily demand that he dominate The Bear's kitchen. In doing so, he's being a good culinary ancestor. Next season, should we get it, it will be Carmy's turn: to come back integrated, sure in himself and without ego, to be there to support (in any way she requires it) Sydney.

And by the way, for the record:

In a world where Black women were the single biggest voting block consistently and overwhelmingly using their generations-long-fought right to vote to protect America from itself fascism in 2016 and 2024, this statement from Carmy:

[A]ny chance of any kind of good in this building, it started when you walked in. And any possibility of it surviving? Its with you.

….is as much about the salvation of The Original Beef of Chicagoland's soul by Sydney, as it is about the United States of America’s by Black women.

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halcyon-writings · 2 days ago

Text

nav.

iasip style title card: His real name is Rafayel "attached at the hip" Deepspace. may the rafayel girlies pull the new myth in the least amount of pulls!

You know that the reason you're at this art show is because Rafayel had asked you to come with him. Several times, actually, in the span of the days that had come before it. You weren't usually a fan of such spaces, given the fact that the last time you went to one, it was only through the combined efforts of Thomas and Rafayel, that you didn't punch some critic for being far too rude.

"Pleaseeeeee," Rafayel had begged even. The artist had come over that morning with breakfast from the cafe you both liked to go to. The scent of hot cakes and the warm syrup had made your mouth water. But no... you must stay strong...

Of course, such a thing is easier said than done when you hear your stomach growl rather loudly. You had gotten home pretty late last night, so dinner wasn't on your mind as much as falling into bed and immediately passing out was.

Rafayel's pleading expression becomes smug. But he slides over a latte, and you know that your fate is sealed as the scent of coffee floats towards your nostrils. You don't even playfully swat at him when he presses a kiss to your cheek, thanking you with a melodic like laugh that once again proves how much you let him get away with.

"I'll make sure you have everything ready for later, you don't have to worry about a thing," You can't help but squint as he lists off what you'll need. An outfit (one that is matching his, obviously), accessories to match said outfit, and just registry into the guest list. Given who Rafayel was, all of that was easy to acquire.

The gallery's venue was the rented out rooftop of some restaurant, one whose waiting list was both impressive and intimidating. Another part of you found it ridiculous when you looked up their menu out of curiosity and saw the portion size.

Thomas, looking relieved that Rafayel appeared at all, is quick to greet you too, bringing you some of the appetizers that were catered, that you gratefully accept.

"Finally made it?" A familiar voice asks behind you, sneaking a piece from your plate as Rafayel's eyes twinkle with mirth.

You hum, chewing thoughtfully, "Of course, I was invited by the gallery's star of the show."

Rafayel laughs, a sound that makes you smile as well.

"Come on," A familiar touch of his hand rests at the small of your back, his palm is warm. You'd almost think he was a completely different person with the charming smiles he gives, when you think about the past instances of Rafayel not wishing to attend galas or events, where Thomas had to all but drag him along.

Even when guests wanted to speak to him in regards to work and what not, somehow, someway Rafayel always managed to turn the conversation towards something else. Before excusing both him and yourself to a more secluded part of the upper floor.

His arm was now wrapped around your waist, keeping you at his side.

"You know, Thomas is going to get on you for not mingling," You sing-song quietly, bringing your glass to your lips as you drink some water. "He's probably looking for you right now."

Rafayel huffs, but doesn't let go, instead, somehow you think he found a way to stand even closer within your personal space. "He'll be fine, I already mingled enough. I would rather spend my evening with you, then be around these snobs."

You shrug, but your own hand rests against his leg, giving his hip a small pat in comfort. "You poor, poor thing," The faux comfort isn't lost on him, but Rafayel plays it up anyway. He nods along, sniffing at the "indignity" of it all.

"But you will have to let go eventually, I can't save you from an irate Thomas if he gets to that point." You say, watching as Rafayel puts a hand to his heart, blinking.

"Oh, you hate me, cutie." He bemoans. "To be apart from you is like asking a man to stop breathing."

This time you do laugh. Which makes his gasp of mock outrage even funnier.

"Oh, hello Thomas!" You chirp, just to watch Rafayel jump, hiding behind you, only to peer over your shoulder to find... nothing.

He squints at you. You wink at him. He's quick to forgive after a kiss on the cheek, or a couple.

#halcyon writings.#love and deepspace x reader #l&ds x reader #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #l&ds x you #qi yu x reader #qi yu x you

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bewitched-hours · 3 days ago

Note

Hello there ! first of al you are realy cool writet:D

and second of all can l have small request so l have idea fantasy!forsaken /Yan!azuretime ×lapis lazuli reader like reader is a water gem robloxian and live in water towers whit their kind and azure and two time meet whit them by accident and fall in love whit reader (reader have same traumas like lapis lazuli)

Gonna be honest, I genuinely had trouble reading this but I'll still happily do it! And thanks for the compliment! I love Steven Universe so this is gonna be a lot of fun!

Reader gets She/Her-

Being a gem was never easy.

Sure, your kind were adored for keeping this world in such great condition and bringing balance to the elements but...

Sometimes it got overwhelming.

That's why you preferred your time in the water towers you made with your fellow water gems. You could hide from the public there and relax... Usually.

Hell, you didn't even mind the occasional visitors if they were being polite but maybe that's why you ended up in a mirror.

No... Who were you kidding... You had no fault in this.

It was all the gem war that started this. A war where all of gemkind were wrapped into the chaos and had to choose between fighting and fleeing.

But you took too long to choose and ended up sealed into your gem form to be put into a mirror and show the holder whatever they want from a moment in history.

You never forgot... And you wanted out...

You've been held by many people, told to show them different points in time which forced you to relive those memories even if you weren't apart of them initially.

You figured you could finally rest when you were hidden away from prying eyes and left in darkness after a crack in your gem messed with your abilities. They finally grew tired of you not functioning and left you to rot in your own abyss...

Naturally, it was a shock to see another face again. Much less that of a regular robloxian.

You were confused at first, trying to figure out how much time had passed as they called out to someone to take a better look at your current form.

They creeped you out a bit but you'd take any chance for freedom you could get. You just had to wait and spend enough time with them to hopefully form your own sentences to communicate.

You fortunately- or unfortunately- knew you couldn't access the long-forgotten history anymore. There was no more torture but also no way to call for help because you just knew if you had called for help when you could, those who knew would've only punished you for being unruly.

"Azure! Come look at this!" Two Time called out as they held your prison of polished silver with a reflective metal framed with turtle shell and gold. Back in the times where this mirror was made, it could've sold for a lot. It gave you an odd sense of pride back then.

Another face came into view before both of them seemed to admire your little prison... If only they knew...

Regardless, you were patient. You watched whatever the mirror allowed you to see as they took you away and brought you to a small cabin by the ocean.

Although they didn't place you in a way where you could see the waves, hearing them was just as comfortable as you allowed them to inspect your gem.

"I wonder what happened..." Azure muttered.

Oh, you would've happily shown them the war that happened after robloxians got a little too greedy and decided to spark a war between gems... But alas...

"Well, we could try to get it out but it seems stuck pretty deep... It would sell better after being repaired." Two Time's words stuck to you like a needle. They didn't know you were alive but thinking of being sold was... Unpleasant...

It was over the span of the next few days where you could capture enough from them to start your plan.

It started small, grabbing their attention by butting into their conversation with a suggestion you picked up from Azure, using their own morning greetings to wish them a good morning, that stuff.

Once they actually began talking to you did things go quicker.

They'd learn fast that you can only repeat back what they've indirectly taught you and they tried to use that to figure out more about you. It wasn't too surprising but you've been able to explain you were the gem on the back of the mirror and that you needed to be freed.

You promised them you'd do anything for your freedom and they agreed to talk about your end of the deal once you were out. You couldn't thank them enough for it.

Maybe you should've never asked them in the first place. Just stay quiet and wait for another century or two. It would've been easy.

But no, you were too eager to move again.

The real story started when they finally got you out. They somehow managed to put in enough force but still be as careful as ever when they pulled you out and you were able to reform. You didn't have any pupils because your gem was still cracked so your eyes were a little more reflective.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" You practically rushed to see them up close and show them your gratitude. "I-I can finally move! I can see freely!"

You spun around and materialized your water wings to make sure your gem was still properly intact.

But you didn't forget your end of the deal.

"What can I do to show my gratitude?" You smiled softly, not realizing they had both been mesmerized by your beauty and quietly agreed on something while you had been spinning and looking at the stars.

"We want you to stay with us." Were the words that sealed your fate. Innocent at first glance and you were too overwhelmed with the feeling of freedom to really deny.

With a simple handshake, your fate was sealed and you were effectively bound to them until the day they'd die.

You could still be around the cabin and play with the water like you used to but they were patient in showing you why they wanted you to stay with them.

From the moment they laid their eyes on you, it was an obsession. They wanted to be the only ones admiring your beauty and gentle nature but they didn't want you to get scared or lose your smile.

It started with convincing you that you would be taken away and tortured if you were found out along with some convenient coincidences where strangers were being pushy with you and they stepped in to protect you... It just helped that you had a more timid nature with strangers now that you were out and vulnerable again.

Then it evolved into little affectionate gestures and convincing you they wanted to make you feel safe and comfortable even though you couldn't figure out where other gems were.

Eventually they even had you convinced that any gems spotted were crushed and turned into jewelry, which further aided in keeping you dependant on them.

It was through all that, all their work, that eventually got them to their goal when you confessed you've felt a strong draw to them and they were quick to reciprocate. It made your heart flutter and you never once considered questioning them, making their prepared excuses for nothing.

Although, you could've sworn that they'd whisper about their obsession with you whenever you dozed off... But they'd always tell you you must be hearing things...

If anyone picked up on the fact I used a mirror specifically from medieval times in this, you get a cookie (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

#forsaken roblox #forsaken #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #yandere azuretime #azure forsaken #azuretime #azure x reader #azure x reader x two time #yandere two time #two time forsaken #twotime x reader #two time x reader #yandere azure #no cult this time but they're still obsessed with... someone

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lottesreads · 1 day ago

Text

Why Me? - Part 15

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, some angst, fluff, lying, talk of abuse and bruises, swearing, brief mention of assault, just a tiny bit smutty (lotsa kissin'), shitty exes

Word Count: 11k (my bad)

Summary: You're on top of the world after your first real date with Bob. Things are starting to look up for not only you, but your dad when he asks for a favor. But of course, there's always something (or someone) from your past that will try to ruin any good thing you have.

A/N: This one only took like a month and a half rather than the regular three or four, it's a miracle! The story's really moving along now and I hope y'all are just as excited as I am. That being said I do love the comments and reblogs, they keep me motivated :)

Happy reading!

Masterlist

Bob pauses. Just for a second, allowing himself to rest his forehead against your own. Breathing you in, he brings his hand up to cup your jaw. Giving himself a view of your face, he gently caresses his thumb over your cheek as your eyes flutter to close. The Beach Boys are still echoing through the living space. A different song now, but he can’t place it at the moment when his thoughts are somewhere else.

“I wanted to be a gentleman, kiss you on the cheek after walking you to your door.” Your breathy laugh tickles his cheeks and he can’t help but smile.

“As nice as that sounds, I think I like this better.” He leans back, continuing to stroke your skin.

“I know, but you’re not supposed to kiss a girl on the first date.” A laugh escapes you. A genuine belly laugh as you try to turn your head away as you do so. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing”, you catch your breath, “It’s just, to be fair you did kiss me before a date was even a question.” He hums in thought.

“If my memory serves me correctly, you actually kissed me first”, he points out. Your jaw drops before you gather yourself.

“Ok, well you kissed me back”, you point a playful finger at him. “And then you felt me up in your driveway.” His jaw drops this time as he steps back from you, feigning offense. Even if he is joking, it’s obvious you caught him off guard through the sudden flush in his cheeks.

“I- I felt you up?”, he borderline scoffs. “That’s hilarious. You were the one with the wanderin’ hands”, he gestures wildly. You try hard to stifle a wild laugh you know is so close to breaking the surface.

“Oh really?” He nods, so sure. You bow your head, working up the courage to say what you want to.

“Well, my memory’s kind of fuzzy. Wanna show me what I supposedly did?” His hands fall to his sides, back straightening as he gives you a wide eye stare. His chest rises and falls as you tilt your head in his direction. Daring him.

He steps toward you, reclaiming his spot with his hand against your cheek. You inhale a deep breath as his mouth gets closer toward your own. Closing your eyes in anticipation you can feel his lips just a hair’s breadth away from yours.

KNOCK KNOCK

The sound coming from the door has you jumping out of your skin and far away from Bob. Somewhere Sylvia runs from the noise and retreats to Bob’s room.

The fear running down your spine reminds you of everything outside the bubble Bob created. You shouldn’t be here. You’re not supposed to be in his arms, but that’s exactly where you found yourself just seconds ago.

The two of you still. As if you don’t move they won’t somehow realize that you’re there.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The pounding fist comes again, and this time Bob clears his throat, motioning for you to stay put. He leaves and you hear a familiar voice come from the other room.

“Harry sent me over for a cup of sugar, he’s in the middle of making a cake and didn’t realize we were out. Silly man.”

“Of course, lemme go grab that for you”, Bob answers him, a bit breathless.

“I’m so sorry to bother you about this.” The sound of the door closing and voices trailing closer has you desperately looking around the sparse living room for a place to hide. The position of the staircase gives you no way to head upstairs without passing right by them. You quickly realize this is a lost cause and you’ll have to face it head on.

“No, that’s alright. I didn’t know Harry baked.”

Bob walks in first, giving you a deer in the headlights look before turning right into the kitchen.

“You know him, that man is just full of surprises.” Rich follows right behind him, already searching the space. And when his eyes come up with you, he has the audacity to act shocked. “Miss Mitchell! What a surprise”, sure it is. The light must catch your face in the best way because his joy is spoiled as he gets a better look. “Oh my god, who’d you get in a fight with?”

You can’t help but greet him with a fast smile, albeit a little panicked. Bob is busy trying to get him a cup of sugar as quickly as he can, leaving you to entertain his guest.

“Oh, just a baseball. I’m fine. How are you and Harry doing?”, you eagerly redirect the conversation. He takes in your outfit choice and flushed cheeks while you twitch in your spot.

“We are just wonderful”, he can’t hide the satisfied smile on his face from your presence. You’re almost sure that he saw you walking down the street with Bob and has a bet going with Harry that you’re actually here.

Bob returns from the kitchen with the sugar, attempting to usher Rich to the exit.

“Have you had a fun night?”, he asks with an air of teasing.

“Oh yeah, just sitting around with Sylvia while Bob went on his date. We had a lot of fun watching The Office.”

“Really?”, he squints his eyes as if he knows. And you know he does. There’s always the chance he saw Bob come back with you and not leave again until your walk.

Damn it. Your heart skips a beat and jumps back down to your stomach as you stumble through your words.

“Here’s your sugar Rich!”, Bob forces the container into his hands as he practically pushes him back to the front door.

“I should leave you two, lovely as always seeing you Miss Mitchell!”, he yells back as Bob shuts the door. Sliding his glasses off, Bob runs a hand down his face as he rests against the front door. Acting as a second barrier in case Rich decides Harry forgot something else for the “cake”.

He finds you waiting in the hallway, chewing the inside of your cheek. He huffs out a laugh.

“So he definitely knows”, you assert as you lean against the wall.

“Yeah, that means that he and Harry know.” Bob decides against telling you that Harry saw the two of you against his truck the other week. He’ll just let you assume Rich is telling Harry what he saw tonight. He’s sure Harry hasn’t told Rich what he saw anyway. Pretty sure at least.

Bob reaches for your hand as you cross the remaining space. You should be heading back soon, and he knows it. Which is why he gathers you in his arms as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers into the silence. You look back at him, a furrow in your brow.

“For Rich?”, you ask with a confused smile. He shakes his head, but you stop him before he can start. “Listen to me, Bob. In spite of every hoop we’ve jumped through, you still managed to give me the best date I’ve ever been on.” His initial instinct is to scrunch his face.

“Really? What kind of losers have you been going on dates with?” You hide your face in his shoulder again.

The kind where you hope you never see them again, that kind Bob.

“I’m not kidding. The effort you put in makes a girl feel special.” He’s subconsciously starting to sway with you again in a quiet motion. It reminds you of the ocean. Not the furious tides and currents that sweep people under and drag them out. No. The kind that allows you to float along the surface. The calming ones that almost lull you to sleep while the water laps at your arms, sun kissing your skin. The kind that reminds you of Bob’s eyes. You could get lost at sea just looking at him.

“I’m glad”, he whispers into your hair, placing a kiss at the top of your head. You almost don’t feel deserving of this kind of attention. He’s too good. “Is it the kind of date that makes you wanna go on a second one?”

You lift your head and see him giving you a soft smile. Nervous, but still there. Your hand runs over his jaw as you nod your head. There’s no hesitance when the two of you meet in the middle, and you feel him smiling against your lips.

You’ve been lucky enough to never eject from your aircraft, but now you know what it must feel like. Falling.

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

Bob kissed you once more, much like a gentleman would. And then drove you home. You weren’t surprised to find both Rich and Harry sitting on their porch when you left. Maybe Harry finished baking his “cake” early.

As much as Bob wanted to walk you back up to your door, he refrains. Opting instead to squeeze your hand and watch you go until the door is safely shut.

“Hey, how’d it go?”, your dad asks as he lounges on the couch. He must have left the bar early.

“Good”, you tell him as you try to wipe the grin off your face. “Sylvia’s a doll.” You try your darndest to avoid any more questions as you undo your shoes at the door. Your dad stands directly in front of the staircase, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blocking your path.

“Did Bob say how his date went?” You expertly shrug it off as you avoid his eyes.

“Yeah, I think it went well. Said he’s going on a second date with her, so we’ll see what happens.”

“Wow.” “Wow what?”

“Didn’t know Bob was bold enough to ask for a second date while on the first, good for him.” He’s still standing directly in your way damn it.

“Yeah”, you chuckle as you attempt to sidestep him, “You’d be surprised.” He stands his ground while he folds his arms across his chest. Something you only see him do when he gets serious. That or nervously running his hands together.

“Well, I’m gonna-”, you motion with your shoe to the stairs behind his head. He turns, but doesn’t move. You cock your head, squinting in his direction. “Why are you being so weird?” His brows fly up his forehead, but you can tell he’s not completely there.

“I’m- I’m not being weird. I was just wondering if we could have our catch up tonight.” Shit. This cannot be a coincidence.

“Oh our fortnightly meetings?”, you try to laugh it off. “Dad, I’m tired. Can we do this tomorrow?” He contemplates it for a moment, but lets you go.

“Yeah, I guess we can”, he forces a smile before kissing your head. “Goodnight, kid.”

As you reach the top of the stairs, you take a second to look down. He’s still standing there, but this time with his hand rubbing his temples. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this anxious.

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

You hardly get any sleep that night. Even if you had the most amazing time with Bob, your overthinking has wrecked your sleep schedule.

There’s no way your dad can know, right? Right. And even if he somehow thinks there’s a possibility that you even went on a date with Bob all you’re going to do is deny, deny, deny. He can’t possibly have any kind of proof. Damn you for wanting to wear a dress for once.

Your father is already up for the day. He must have an even worse internal clock than you do, because he’s always up and ready by 5:00 am. This time, he greets you with a cup of coffee as you meet him in the kitchen. Steeling your nerves, you try to ignore the way your hand shakes as you reach for the mug he’s prepared you.

He doesn’t even notice. There’s something else weighing on his mind, and you don’t think you can handle one more second not knowing.

“How’d you sleep?”, he asks.

“Ok, spit it out”, you take him off guard. “What is going on?” He sighs, shaking off his wide eyes from your bluntness as he sets his Navy emblazoned mug down. He rubs his worn hands together as you take a deep breath. Here it comes.

“I’m going to ask Penny to marry me.” Oh- that is not what you were expecting to hear. He peeks a look at you from under his bowed head and you’re silent before you gather your bearings.

“Dad”, you almost gasp, “That’s amazing!” He visibly relaxes at your words, shoulders falling from where they were at his ears. You get up and give him a hug he wasn’t expecting. You’re amazed he doesn’t know anything, but you’re also elated he’s finally taking things seriously with Penny.

“Wait”, you push yourself away from him, “Have you talked to Amelia yet?”

“Not yet”, he rubs the back of his neck, “But I am going to. This is another reason why I wanted to talk to you.” He gives you a look. One that tells you he’s about to ask for a favor.

“What do you need?”, you eye him warily.

“I was hoping to get together and have a family dinner sometime this week. And maybe you can, I don’t know, talk to Amelia? Warm her up to the idea a little bit.”

“You think she’s going to be upset about it?” He weighs his head from side to side, turning to clean his mug. You down the rest of your drink, now able to stomach the topic when it’s not you.

“She’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“Dad, she’s just protective of her mom. You can’t blame her for being a little apprehensive when you’ve been in and out of her life for the better part of 30 years.” He pauses at the realization, you do as well as you say the words. He will always go back to Penny. No matter what. And this time he’s here to stay.

“I think once she knows that you plan on proposing it’ll just solidify whatever you’ve told her already. I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.” He scoffs, staring at a point on the counter.

It’s quiet as he contemplates your words, only interrupting as you start to scrub your own mug.

“Why don’t you ever go on dates?” The dish slips out of your hand, and by some miracle doesn’t break as it ricochets in the sink. You huff out a nervous laugh.

“What?”

“Sorry, I just mean I’ve never met anyone you’ve dated. And I know for sure you haven’t gone on any dates since we got here.” Oh if only you knew. You take a second to collect your thoughts, nodding along to whatever he’s saying.

“I don’t know”, you shrug, “Just hasn’t been something I’m seeking out.” Which is the definitive truth. You weren’t seeking Bob out in any capacity other than by making a friend. And now look at you, head over heels for the WSO.

“Why not?”

“Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”, you glare at him from the corner of your eye.

“I just want you to be happy”, he shrugs.

“I am happy”, you conclude. “ I genuinely am, and maybe I don’t want a man coming along and ruining that. Plus-”, you add as you dry your hands on a dish towel, “I’ve seen what mankind has to offer, and so far I’m not impressed.” Translation: I don’t want a repeat of past mistakes. One bad experience is enough to ruin any ideation of a future with a happy ending.

Well, up until this point at least. This was sincerely your head space before you found out good men exist outside of fiction.

Bob is the first one to ever treat you like more than just a title, or a warm body. He treats you like a person. But not only that, he values and respects you. Something you didn’t think would be so hard to ask for.

He raises his hands in surrender, dropping the subject. For now.

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

You are ever so grateful for the reprieve Bob offered you over the weekend. Because Monday back at work is complete hell. Bob’s still driving you, which is nice to have some alone time where you can be yourselves. But when you get to work it’s a whole other story.

Thick packets are already at desks for the team to look at, and Mav goes over every single maneuver you’re expected to relearn and perfect in the next two weeks. All of them are evasive, which means more dogfights, which means more pushups to whoever loses.

By Wednesday you’re tasked with dogfight after dogfight, staying in the air as long as possible. It’s starting to put a strain on every muscle in your body, so even when you get to the tarmac you’re already flopping on your belly even if you didn’t lose. With the amount of dogfights each of you is competing in, it’s a miracle if you aren’t doing at least 300 pushups by the end of the day.

You can see it draining the rest of the team, as well as yourself. Bob almost has to wake you up when he stops at your house after work on Thursday.

“You ok?”, he asks, blinking hard under his glasses. His hair is almost completely slicked back from the amount of time it’s had to sit under his helmet today. Both of you reek of sweat and fuel, but it doesn’t stop the temptation to pull him closer. You stop yourself when you realize it’s broad daylight on your street, but god. You just wanna fall asleep with him next to you.

“Yeah”, you give him a tired smile, “Just wish I could go to sleep instead of dinner at Penny’s.”

“What about tomorrow? We can put on a movie and pretend to watch it while we’re asleep.” You don’t want to tell him your mind is wandering to a lazy makeout session on his couch as well, but a car whizzing by bursts your bubble.

“I think Fanboy said something about going to the Hard Deck tomorrow night”, you groan. “It might look weird if we’re the only two not there.” Not to mention that if Penny’s working your dad will most likely be moping around the house waiting until she gets done. He contemplates this for a second, and tries his best not to look any more deflated than he already is.

“Saturday?”, you suggest.

“Saturday”, he smiles. You squeeze his hand and hop out, resisting the temptation to do more. It’s been absolutely killing you to not kiss him hello or goodbye, but you know that will make it all the more sweeter when you’re actually alone this weekend. By then it will be more than a week of not feeling his lips on yours, god when did you get so desperate?

To be honest, even if you haven’t done more than holding hands in his truck, he’s made this week a lot easier than it would have been without him. It’s taking its toll on the entire squad, but even just catching his eye from across the room, or bumping his fist before take off sets you at ease.

It was an accident when you knocked your knee into his at the lunch table Monday, but he knocked you right back. It’s become your unspoken way of checking in with each other without anyone noticing. Just another part of your language no one else has the liberty of understanding or realizing is being communicated right under their noses.

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

“Jesus, dad. Calm down, she’s not gonna bite”, you tell him as you make your way up to Penny’s home. He’s tapping the side of the bowl with whatever concoction he mixed together last minute. You can’t help but yawn as you climb the last couple of steps to the door.

“Hey, look alive”, he almost scolds you, “You have a very important task here.”

“If I wasn’t in the air for five hours today or doing like a million pushups after, I might have the energy to argue with you.” Damn Hangman, getting the jump on you right before you were ready to finish for the day. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“You don’t know teenage girls.”

“Um, I think you’re forgetting I was one.” You knock at the door while giving him a lethal side eye.

“Yeah, but you weren’t-”, he weighs his words, “You didn’t do the normal teenage things.” You quirk an eyebrow.

“Oh you mean I didn’t steal cars or get drunk at parties?” His mouth falls open and he forgets his troubles for a split second. In all truth you were a very well mannered teenager. Respectable. Quiet. You had to be.

“Who told you I stole cars?”

“When did you steal a car?”, Amelia asks as the door cracks open. The two of you almost jump out of your skin at the sudden hormone riddled apparition at the front door.

“Hey Amelia!”, you greet in an over cheerful manner for someone who you would describe as a walking corpse. You’re sure your smile looks more painful than genuine. She must see the same thing you feel, because with a side eye that rivals your own she moves aside to let the two of you in.

Penny greets you in the kitchen, and you’re about to ask if she needs any help when your dad nods his head in the direction Amelia went in. You follow his lead, leaving the two of them.

Amelia is sitting in the living room, textbook open on her lap as she takes notes. She doesn’t acknowledge you as you sit on the other edge of the couch.

“What kind of homework are you working on?”

“Algebra”, she replies without looking up. You tap the sides of your thighs, glancing around the room, admiring the frames of pictures and seaside decor. The silence carries on as your fried brain tries finding another topic.

“How’s school going?”

“It’s fine”, she answers dryly. “How’s work?”, she surprises you by asking. But at least it gives you an in.

“It’s alright, Mav has been riding us pretty hard this week. But I know he means well.” She stops what she’s doing and quirks her head.

“Do you always call him Mav?”

“No, usually only in respect to work. That or Captain Mitchell. But at home he’s just dad.” She nods, hesitating for only a second before going back to her work. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know”, she shrugs, “I’m never sure whether to call him Pete or Mav, but if he’s gonna marry my mom I guess I should ask him what he prefers since I’ll be seeing him more often.”

“Well, if I know him he-”, you make a quick turn to stare at the girl, “Wait, how do you know about that?” She shrugs again.

“My mom’s talked to me about the possibility, it’s just a matter of time really”, she answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“So you’re not upset about it?”

“No”, she shakes her head, “He makes my mom happy, and he’s already promised me he’s not going to break her heart again. I want to believe him.” You laugh silently to yourself. You wished you had the attitude of this girl when you were her age.

“Trust me, if he does he’ll have more than just you to answer to. But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he will.” She nods at you, and then goes back to her homework. She leaves you feeling a little better, but still in silence as your dad “helps” Penny. You try to recall what you were talking about the last time you were together. Something about Amelia just being asked to a dance?

“So… you getting excited for Homecoming?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” She keeps her head down.

“Do what?”

“Try and make an effort”, she so plainly replies in an annoyed sigh. “I already have step-siblings, I know how this works. Just because our parents might be getting married doesn’t mean we have to have a relationship.” Her attitude leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and you try not to grimace from old feelings surfacing at the comment. You take a breath.

“You know, I had step-siblings, too. It was always awkward around them, and neither of our parents tried to make an effort to integrate our families. I tried to get to know them, but they never seemed interested.” Her pencil stops moving on her notebook paper, but she still won’t look up. “I don’t want it to be that way between the two of us. Even if I am older by a few years-”

“Try more than a decade”, she interrupts.

“Ok, fine- Even if I am old enough to be your teen mom”, you get her to crack on that one, “I’d still like to try and be somewhat of a step-sister to you. If you want.” Her eyes stop on a single word, not reading just…staring. She doesn’t say anything, and you’ve almost decided to give up before she speaks.

“I’ve never had a sister before.” You exhale in relief.

“Neither have I really. Do you want one?” Her eyes dart to you, but you don’t look away. Steadying your gaze, you wait for her to come to you.

“It might be nice”, she tries to shrug the gravity off of her words.

“I mean, you can come to me about stuff you don’t want to talk to your mom about, we can have girls nights, you can call me at any hour- oh! And you can tell me all about the boy who asked you to your dance.” You try not to get ahead of yourself, but the way Amelia lulls her head back and tries to hide her smile just makes you want to keep going.

“But I’m serious. Whatever kind of relationship you want, I’m here for it.” The two of you come to a silent agreement and she continues on with her homework. Or at least that’s what you thought was happening. You’re left to twiddle your thumbs again while Mav and Penny get up to god knows what in the kitchen- actually maybe you should go see if they need any help.

“Do you mean it?”, the confident girl you’ve gotten to know starts to shrink in on herself. Nervous and insecure in the way she’s asking if you’ll stick around and be there for her. This is the kind of thing that reminds you of yourself at her age.

“Tell you what”, you turn and offer her your pinkie finger, “we’ll swear on it.” Her insecurity vanishes as she raises a brow.

“A pinkie promise? Are you serious?”

“Just gimme your pinkie you little shit”, she fails to hold back her laugh and gives you what you ask. The two of you lock fingers and you give her an unwavering stare. And with a nod of your heads the two of you forge the way for something neither of you have been a part of before.

“So does that mean I can ask you anything?” You squint, suspicious of where this is going.

“You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll answer. Why?”

“Just wanted to know how you got the bruise”, she motions to your face. It had been fading nicely over the past week, now just a faint discoloration of your skin remains. You huff out a breath, it’s no use trying to lie to this girl.

“Rooster threw a baseball at me.” Her face screws up in curiosity.

“Is it because you punched him in the face?” Your brows scrunch as you try not to smile at her. Of course she knows. “You’re a good liar, he’s not”, she explains.

“He hit me by accident, he got punched in the face cause he’s an idiot.”

“What did he do?”. A humorless laugh escapes your lips.

“He said something extremely, extremely thoughtless and rude.”

“He probably deserved it”, she decides. You try to stifle your smile, but just like a sister would, she’s already taking your side.

“Soup’s on kids”, the two of you turn your heads at your dads arrival. You don’t know how long he was standing there, but if the smile that he gives you is any indication you know you got your job done for the night.

“We’re having soup?”, Amelia turns to you as you enter the kitchen.

“No, that’s just something old people say when dinner’s ready”, you joke. Your dad does not find it amusing.

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

The Hard Deck is bustling. Overflowing with aviators, sailors, and everyone in between. The setting sun casts a warm glow through the open windows, throwing every person in their best lighting. A carrier made port today, hence the warm welcome to those who haven’t been on land in months. If there was one place you’d go to get away from anything Navy related it would sure as shit not be the Hard Deck. But to you and others it’s a home away from home. Penny made sure of that.

The majority of your squadron showed up late to the party, opting to change into their civilian clothes rather than coming straight from work in your flight suits. Somehow you stick out like a sore thumb in a place like this.

Bob picked Fanboy up first, leaving you to awkwardly squish in between them on the way over. You gave Bob an awkward smile, knocking your knee against his as Fanboy did up his own seatbelt.

Bob is more often than not Fanboy’s designated driver nowadays. Payback ends up leaving earlier than everyone else if he even comes out, he has a wife and kids after all. The rest of you… not so much.

Bob even relays the message Fanboy told him that he was either going to “get laid or fucked up” tonight. And you for one can’t wait to see how that works itself out.

Somehow there are always a gaggle of girls who just know when a deployment ends. And they’re always first in line to get into the Hard Deck. Fanboy being out of his uniform does not bode well in his favor tonight. Those just getting back from deployments are eager to let off some steam, and these women are just about willing to help anyone in a uniform.

Bob opens the door for you, and you give him a smile just a touch beyond polite as he tips his head. You catch Penny’s eye and give her a wave as you make your way through the crowd.

It’s all hustle and bustle before you finally find yourself at the pool table where Phoenix is showing Rachel how to play. You’re 99% sure she already knows how, and you give Nat a knowing smirk anyway as they stand up from their shot.

“Shit”, Fanboy reappears handing you a beer, “If I knew it was gonna be this busy I wouldn’t have suggested it.” He takes a swig of his own bottle as you eye the place. It’s shoulder to shoulder as people pack the bar, waiting for their drinks.

“All I know is that Penny and Jimmy better be swimming in tips by the end of the night”, you murmur into your bottle.

Phoenix moves over, handing the cues to you and Bob before heading back to get more drinks with Rachel. And that’s when you notice Bob’s cowboy boots peeking out from under his jeans. You try to subtly look up the expanse of his tall figure without him catching you. He’s busy re-racking the balls to notice, but that doesn’t mean other people haven’t.

Shaking him from your thoughts, you start the game. You circle around each other, throwing smart comments his way every once in a while. He tries to hide his mischievous smile, but you catch it as he bends for his turn. Usually Fanboy would be over here supervising whatever meticulous shot Bob’s attempting, but he’s disappeared somewhere around the room. Presumably to achieve one of his goals for the night.

Your teammates slowly appand you greet them as you take your final shot, beating Bob. Again. You give him a sympathetic look and shrug. He just shakes his head at you. Not in disbelief from you winning, more of a way to tell you it’s no use.

“Sorry, Bob. But you did a lot better this time!”, you laugh.

“Where’s your fight Bob?”, Hangman interrupts, “Let me show you how it’s supposed to be done.” He grabs the cue out of his hand, and Bob makes his way over to stand next to you.

“You put up a good fight”, you console him with a shoulder pat. He laughs to cover the buzz he feels from the contact, but you let your hand slide away before you have the urge to let it linger on the muscle.

A quiet figure walks up beside you, and you know who it is before he even speaks. The Hawaiian shirt hanging from his shoulders is so loud you don’t even need to look over.

It’s been better with the team. Rooster’s kept his mouth shut long enough he hasn’t had the chance of shoving his foot up there. Or you shoving your foot so far up his ass it comes out the other end.

Bob nudges your shoulder with his own, pointing to the corner of the room. Fanboy is attempting and failing to keep a girl’s attention. Her eyes keep drifting over his shoulder to someone else in a khaki uniform. You chuckle as Bob leans down so you can hear him over the din of the bar. His breath warm on your cheek.

“How long do you think he’s gonna hold her hostage over there?”

“I don’t know”, you smile, “but I’d say he’s going home shitfaced tonight.” Bob chuckles as you reach for your empty bottle.

“I’m getting another beer”, you tell him before leaving. You catch sight of Rachel waving Rooster over to her and Phoenix while Hangman is explaining his shot to Bob.

“Another round, Mantis?”, Penny asks as you approach.

“Just one. Oh- and a cup of peanuts please.”

“You got it”, she gives you a smile as you wait. You watch as Jimmy shovels ice into a glass and you’re almost tempted to ask for a cup. It is too damn hot in here.

“Mitchell, is that you?” Your stomach drops, the hair on the back of your neck stands up. Your teeth clench so hard you’re sure one of them has cracked. Your ears start to ring as the world keeps spinning around you. You haven’t heard that voice since-

“I knew it was.” Fuck.

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

“And that is how it’s done”, Hangman comments before the eight ball drops. “Did you see that, Bob?” He nods and feigns interest, as if he was watching the whole time. Fanboy dejectedly walks up to Bob’s side, huffing out a breath of frustration.

“That bad, huh?”, Bob asks him.

“I kept telling her I was in the Navy, but she didn’t seem to believe me.”

“Say she did believe you, what was your plan? You couldn’t have taken her back to your place, I drove you here.” Fanboy smirks.

“We coulda gone back to hers, or ya know- there are doors with locks around here.” Bob scrunches his face in disgust at the insinuation.

“What, the bathroom?” He simply shrugs, and returns to chugging his drink. The noise B Bob makes gathesr everyone else’s attention.

“Wouldn’t be the first time these bathrooms have seen some action”, Hangman joins in.

“That’s disgusting”, Rooster comments as he frowns, a beer bottle hanging from his fingers.

“Nah, you’re just too chicken shit to admit you did the deed in the ladies room.”

“Really Hangman?”, Phoenix adds in as she misses her shot, “You’re bragging about having sex where strangers shit?”

Bob is thoroughly enjoying the conversation, and knows you would find it just as amusing. You’ve actually been gone longer than it takes to get a beer, especially with Penny at the helm. He looks over his shoulder, eyes wandering the bar until he spots a glimpse of you behind a flight suit clad back. Everyone’s still arguing when he asks.

“Hey, who’s Mantis talking to?” A few of them stop and turn at the disruption. It’s obvious you’re uncomfortable as the man reaches to give you a hug. You don’t try to stop it, but you don’t reciprocate. Instead you wait until he’s done touching you before trying to create more distance.

You try to sidestep him, revealing the face of the stranger. He’s not ugly, but he has an air of pretentiousness that dissuades Bob from believing anything genuine is coming from his mouth.

“Is that Knoxville?”, Hangman asks with the pool cue in hand.

“Can’t be, last I heard he was with the Atlantic fleet”, Coyote adds.

“Who the hell is Knoxville?”, Rooster asks with a stern look. The man couldn’t look more concerned if he tried. If Bob knew any better he’d think he was ready to run over there himself. Bob’s just about to, but it looks like you’ve gained your footing as the surprise has worn off.

“Oh shit, that is Knoxville”, Coyote moves to get a better look.

“Again, who the hell is Knoxville?”, Bob asks this time, getting impatient.

“Just some jackass who thinks he’s too big for his britches.” Coyote replies as he eyes the scene along with everyone else.

“What are we all looking at?”, Phoenix appears behind the wall of men. Intrigue twisting into a mix of disgust and shock. “Oh my god.”

“You know Knoxville, too?”, Bob asks as you start to make your way over, jackass in tow.

“Knoxville? No. That’s Lieutenant Douchebag.”

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

He appeared out of nowhere. And then he hugged you like he was owed your touch. And now here you are, dragging yourself back to your team with your tail between your legs. This is embarrassing, no it’s actually humiliating. And now everybody else is going to think the same.

Without looking, you hand Bob his cup of peanuts which he takes silently. You don’t think you can look at him right now. Even if everyone is watching you, expecting an explanation, you’re not in the mood to give them one.

“You gonna introduce me Princess?”, Tyler leans down to your ear, loud enough for everyone else to hear anyway. You want to twist your head away, ignore him for the rest of your life, but you stand your ground. His breath makes you shudder, and not in a good way.

“Knoxville!”, Coyote barks out before you can respond.

“Coyote! How’s it going man?”, Tyler claps him on the back and Coyote gives it right back. If not a touch harder. Hangman greets him as well, with a flat smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You’d almost be interested to ask how they know each other if you weren’t itching to get the hell out of here.

Across the pool table, Nat meets your eyes. An invisible conversation taking place as you try your best to ignore what’s happening right in front of you.

She stares more intently, subtly shifting her head to the side. Are you ok?

You steel your features and quietly raise your brow. What do you think?

“So how do you know Mantis here?”, Hangman finally asks him. You look up, paining a smile to appear. Covering any emotion that tries to surface. Before you can say anything, he’s already talking over you. Typical.

“Mantis, huh?”, he turns to you. He couldn’t be any more condescending if he were sitting on a throne with you at his feet. “She used to go by Princess when we were dating.”

And it’s out.

You can feel Bob’s eyes flick to the side of your face. You don’t look at him. You can’t. You will break and crumble if you do.

“Yeah well, it’s Mantis now”, you don’t care if you sound snippy anymore. You never even liked the nickname. You didn’t “go by Princess”. That was his nickname for you. One you loathed with your entire being. It stemmed from an incessant reminder that you were “Navy royalty” as he so said. You felt more like Cinderella before she had a fairy godmother to make everything better.

“Aw come on, it’s all for old times sake, Princess”, you’re sure he thinks he’s being funny. He doesn’t know you well enough to know how to get under your skin. He doesn’t want to. Because you still might prove useful to him.

“How long are you in town?”, Rooster interrupts. He’s moved over to Phoenix’s side, and she’s stone-faced at the man. Like usual, Tyler hasn’t even noticed she’s there. She was never someone he could use and manipulate so he wrote her off.

“At least for a couple weeks.” Of course. Whenever he reappears he has to try to unravel all you’ve wound up since he left. Maybe you could get Penny to ban him from the bar. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name….” Rooster remains glued to his spot, arms crossed across his chest.

“Rooster”, he grumbles. He’s mad, but as far as you know he has no reason to be. Tyler catches sight of Phoenix and her face twitches. Surely a defense to not roll her eyes.

“Nat! How long’s it been?”

“Not long enough apparently”, she speaks through painfully obvious gritted teeth. The fake smile does nothing to cover it.

“Wait, how do you two know each other?”, Coyote asks.

“Oh we all went to the Academy together, but it’s been a while. Not Princess though”, he turns back to you, a smug grin wiping over his teeth. Shut up, you will him.

“We ran into each other, what was it? Five years ago?”. Damn it. All you can do is pray that nobody remembers Nat’s party. The stupid question you answered. The game Hangman started just to make you squirm.

The shifting eyes and slowly growing smile on Hangman’s face prove your prayers go unanswered. It must click in everyone else’s minds. You can’t breathe.

The air is suffocating. They already know too much about you. This extremely intimate and personal part of your life is not something you were planning on disclosing to anyone.

“Five years you said?”, Hangman asks, looking at you and not at the man the question is directed to.

“Yeah, one of those hoity toity balls. Perfect place for royalty”, he laughs at you. You scrunch your face up at him, hiding how tight you’re clenching your teeth.

“So what have you been up to?”, Phoenix asks, redirecting his attention. Thank god for Natasha Trace. He forgets about you, never letting an opportunity to talk about himself get away. He drones on about getting transferred, getting promoted, yada yada yada. Whatever he thinks makes himself look good, even if he takes some liberties.

“Hey”, Bob steps in with a whisper, “Do you wanna leave?” You look at his feet, brown cowboy boots stare back. Straightening yourself, you give him a silent nod. Without another word, you catch Phoenix’s eye and she does her best to distract Tyler as you go.

She’ll have to do damage control by herself. Rooster watches as you leave, not saying anything but you’re sure he must be so disappointed that this was the kind of man you associated yourself with. There’s a small part of you that’s embarrassed he knows. And a part of you that’s disappointed in yourself, too.

He’s not at liberty to that part of your life. But now it’s out in the open, and for someone as stupid as him, he’s not a complete idiot. He’s already connected the dots.

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

You haven’t said a word. Bob’s not sure if you’re going to. Your jaw’s been clenched since you showed up with him, and the only shift was when you were grinding your teeth as he spoke.

He’s about to turn the corner to your street when you speak up.

“Can we keep driving”, your voice cracks from disuse. Or just from how tight you’ve been holding yourself.

“Of course”, he agrees and reroutes. Where to, he’s not quite sure yet. You’re still quiet as he makes his way out of the suburbs, passing house after house until he finds a relatively empty beach. Only a few people remain, staggering back to their cars to head home. The sun is dipping below the horizon as he parks.

You stare forward, admiring the view. Huffing out a breath, he watches as you squeeze your fingers with one hand, rather harshly, almost until the blood stops flowing.

He checks the cup holder in his door, reaching down and fumbling with the loose change until he finds what he’s looking for.

With his free hand, he separates your own, giving them a gentle squeeze. And once they’re loose he drops the copper coin in your palm. But he doesn’t let go, not yet.

You exhale, the closest thing to a laugh he’ll get out of you. And then you look at him, biting the inside of your lip. Hesitating.

“Just an invitation”, he shrugs, “Feel free to decline.” That gets you to smile the tiniest bit. Progress.

You don’t let go of his hand, instead placing the penny in your pocket and opting to trace over his fingers. Your eyes drop from his, watching your own movements.

“Tyler- or Knoxville I guess, was my first boyfriend.” That much was obvious to Bob. But he doesn’t interrupt as you gather the courage for whatever else is coming his way.

“We met back at the Academy, I really didn’t know how to act in a relationship, and it was obvious later that he only started to become interested once he knew my dad was higher up, and that my god father was even higher than him.” You sigh, again. Getting worked up over every memory going through your mind.

“He used me- for a lot of things, but I still stayed with him longer than I should have. He graduated the year before Phoenix, and then he broke up with me right before he left. Asking if we could still be friends, and whatever bullshit he used as an excuse. And that’s not even the worst part.” A humorless laugh escapes your lips. You scrunch your eyes before letting go of Bob’s hands, instead running them down your face. Hiding yourself from him.

“It was five years ago, when I ran into him at a gala”, you suck in a deep breath before continuing. Bob already knows where this is going, and he’s not sure he wants to hear it. But he listens intently to your words despite the gnawing ache in his chest.

“Ugh”, you huff, “I was lonely, and more than a little drunk. I regretted it when I came to my senses the next morning. It’s just-”, you stop and clench your teeth, hands balling into fists on your lap. You sound more frustrated with yourself than hurt.

Bob reaches to relax your fist with his hand, giving you something else to put your focus into. Releasing a breath, you hide from him beneath your lashes.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. He sounds like a real-”

“Douchebag?”, you venture to guess.

“Yeah.” He stops- thinking back on what you just told him. Furrowing his brow, he asks, “Was he also drunk when you uh…”, he chooses his words wisely, “Saw him last?”

“I don’t- I don’t remember”, you shake your head, “I try not to think about it. Wasn’t a very fun night for me.” You try to laugh it off. He doesn’t like where his mind is going, but he has to know.

“It already sounds like he took advantage of you, but did he-”

“No!”, you’re quick to cut him off, “No, nothing like that. I promise. It was just never… good for me?” You phrase it as if it’s a question. Like you don’t believe yourself.

“I don’t know, he always made it about his needs and I never- he never cared about mine. It never even felt like a relationship. He only cared or seemed interested when my clothes were off. I don’t even think he knew my birthday or what my favorite color was.” You wince, trying to pull your hand away from his to cover yourself up again. “This is so embarrassing.” His heart breaks for you. Right after you left your mom's, the world found some way to put you with a man who didn’t even care to get to know you. What a fucking loser.

“What’s so embarrassing about that?”, he wonders. Pulling your hand back to your lap, his other reaches to trace your jaw. “He’s the one who should be embarrassed, never taking you into consideration. That’s not what a real man does.”

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

Your brain falters. Almost resets from its original coding as Bob swipes his thumb across your jaw. Even as he mindlessly comforts you, his eyes never look away from yours. They never drift past the part of you he’s trying to reach.

Because that’s the thing. Even when discussing the intimate topic, evading the real words, he’s not trying to reach any other part of you except for you as a whole. Not just a body part he can use for his own gratification.

And in just being his wonderfully genuine self, you find yourself emotional but also incredibly turned on.

It might just be the bare minimum, but it feels like more. It feels like Bob.

“You ok?”, he asks a little quieter this time. You manage to blink yourself out of your daze, recentering yourself to his calloused hand’s gentle touch.

“Yeah”, you manage to breathe over a whisper, “What about you?” You dare to ask.

“What about me?”, he returns, not understanding your question.

“Do you-”, you swallow, “Take other people's needs into consideration?” He blinks, quickly. A twitch of a smile ghosts across his face, before he nods. He understands what you’re asking.

“Your needs are mine”, his voice, now husky, whispers back. You could tremble at the sound. Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage.

“In that case, I’m gonna need you to kiss me, Bob.” That lopsided smile makes an appearance before he slowly leans in, brushing his lips against yours. It’s gentle, soft. Not enough. He backs away, not daring to push you any further.

You let go of his hand, reaching for the back of his head to guide him back to you. Your foreheads touch, and his eyes flick between yours and down to your lips. A silent question you answer by attaching your lips back to his. He returns it with fervor.

Turning your head, you deepen the kiss, running your hand through his shorter hair. He gives you exactly what you give him, not trying to go any further than you’re willing.

You dare to swipe your tongue over his lips and he welcomes it with a quiet hmmph.

His hand slides to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair. He doesn’t pull, doesn’t ask for more, just massages where his fingers go. Or at least that’s what it feels like as your brows wrinkle in pure pleasure.

His touch has you aching for more, and as you try to scoot down the bench, your seatbelt stops you. Breaking away for a split second, you move to undo the barrier. Bob does the same, albeit much quicker than you’re able to with your shaky fingers.

The feeling of Bob’s lips moving down your tilted jaw certainly don’t help.

Your hand falters, and he stops.

“Is this ok?”, he asks under his breath.

“Yeah, more than”, you exhale. His mouth returns, trailing his lips from your jaw to the top of your neck. And you’re still too far away. His nose nudges against your jawline, moving to where he can get better access to what he wants. His glasses scrape against your cheek as he opens his mouth.

The seat belt clicks and you’re on the move. Hands fumbling to grip the back of his neck as he continues to kiss your skin. Your eyes flutter and close, your hand finds his knee, gripping on for dear life.

His lips find their way back to yours, knees knocking into each other as you desperately try to get closer to him. You can feel yourself getting hotter by the second, butterflies making their descent.

You break to catch your breath, his fanning over your face and pushing loose strands of hair outwards. Braving to open your eyes, all you see are the fogging lenses of his glasses.

You don’t have time to admire the sight before his lips drag down your previously untouched skin, the other side of your neck he didn’t explore before. You hum in enjoyment, spurring on his tongue to trace over every inch of skin he’s kissed.

“Bobby”, you mumble, “So- so good.” Your hand drifts higher, dragging over the rough denim of his thigh. You’re trying and failing not to imagine what’s underneath, whining at the thought.

His large hand moves to splay over your hip. But what nearly does you in is his fingers landing right where your shirt rides up from your jeans. The touch sends a shiver through you, goosebumps forming on your skin, hair sticking up on your arms.

He’s kissing you again, wet skin on your neck cooling against the air as it dries. Your knees bump his again, and you swear to god the next time will be the last.

You don’t even think really, just go on instinct as they knock into each other for another goddamn time. Lifting your leg, you swing it over his lap, where you now find yourself sitting. It’s more of an awkward hunch so your head doesn’t hit the roof.

His hands aren’t on you anymore, they must have fallen off during the move. His head hits the headrest, eyes wide under those damn glasses. Oh shit, he doesn’t want this.

You both just sit there, chests falling and rising. You’re just as surprised as he is by your own position.

“I can move”, you quickly try to undo what you’ve already done. His hands shoot out to your hips, anchoring you to him.

“Please don’t”, he huffs and swallows. Hands twitching where they rest. Your hand reaches forward, moving through his hair as you settle into your position. For a split second, just as your fingers move, your brain so lovingly reminds you of where you’ve seen this familiar scene before.

Your dream- before it turned into a nightmare.

A flash of panic tries to run its course through your nervous system but then- a trace of his finger down your cheek, delicately pushing your hair behind your ear. He’s here. This is real.

“Where’d you go?”, he whispers. You don’t say anything. Instead, you push forward, needing to feel him again. To know this is a dream you aren’t waking up from.

His lips are just as warm and soft as they were two seconds ago, but there’s something different. Something deeper. A need in you that he’s more than happy to indulge.

And then. your hips graze right over his as you try to get closer. A deep sound comes from his throat, making your mouth vibrate. Interesting.

You test it again, and this time it’s a little louder, his grip on your hip just a tiny bit tighter. Not hurting in any way, just a sense of pressure that lets you know he feels you. You test again, feeling him harden under his jeans.

“Shit”, he hisses as you take your turn to kiss his sharp jawline. Just the slightest whisper of scruff tickling your lips. “Sweetheart yer killin’ me here-” His accent creeps out, and you smile against his skin.

Your hand slides down the back of his shirt, just barely enough to feel what you have yet to see. His hips buck against yours in a twitch as you barely tug on his earlobe with your teeth. His back is warm beneath your touch and you’re aching to feel more of him.

You can feel yourself start to sweat, windows just starting to fog up the longer you stay hooked to each other.

A harsh bright light sears through your eyelids and you immediately unattach yourself from Bob’s neck, not unlike a leech. His hands remain in your hair and on your waist, but he goes rigid as you stop.

“Car”, you tap his shoulder.

“Shit”, he says as he pulls you under him, flat against the bench seat. You try not to yelp at the motion, but your legs are now wrapped around his hips which pin you to the fading leather. He rests his weight on his elbows, minding not to press anymore against you.

The headlights are bright enough to blind anyone who comes within 50 feet, but all you can see is the direction they turn in. And they’re getting closer.

“What if it’s someone we know?”, you whisper into the echo of your breathing. He looks down at you, and you see it. Fear.

Shifting his weight onto his hands, Bob lifts his head just enough to see through the passenger window. He sighs. Throat bobbing when he swallows. Where your mouth was just exploring.

Jesus, how stupid are you? Why did you think it was ok to have a makeout session in a car like a teenager?

Well, you never actually did that as a teenager. But this makes you feel like one who’s out way past curfew with a boy her parents disapprove of.

“I don’t think we know them”, he whispers, ducking his head out of view.

You’re able to take a breath at that. Bob relaxes, head dropping to your shoulder to catch his own.

“What are they doing?”

“I don’t know, probably scoping out a makeout spot”, you hit him lightly on the shoulder and he shakes above you. You both stop and listen, just waiting to see if they get any closer.

“I’m sorry”, you have the urge to tell him after a minute.

“What’re you sorry for?”, he lifts his head.

“I got a little carried away.”

“We were having fun weren’t we?”, he asks through a laugh and you nod at him. “Just kinda forgot where we were.” Your smile falls.

“We have to be more careful.”

“I know”, he searches your eyes, “To be fair I had no ulterior motives when I parked here.” You know he didn’t. Technically you were the one to make the first move, which is something you never did with douchebag. He initiated everything, but with Bob it’s just different. You want him in a way you’ve never wanted someone before. And sometimes it makes it hard to hold back. Because you don’t just want his body. You want to talk to him, spend time with him. You want him as a whole.

You didn’t even catch yourself staring.

“Ok, I think they’re leaving.” He looks back at you and stops. “What?”, he asks with a twinge of a smile. And if you didn’t already feel like a teenager right now, the grin on his face makes you smitten like one. That and the fact that you can still feel how hard he is through his jeans.

“Nothing”, you smile as your hand cards through his hair, “Thanks for taking me out here.”

“I’d say anytime, but I think next time we should find some place a little more private.”

“No, but seriously”, you stop him, “Thank you.” He searches your eyes and comes back with something you can’t place. Maybe he understands that it’s more than just taking you out here. That you’re thanking him for more than you can ever repay. But you start with pushing his glasses back up his nose because he’s too busy looking at you to notice they’ve been slowly sliding down.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Just lowers himself and presses his lips against yours one last time.

His head pops up, much like a groundhog’s would, before he slides off your body, leaving you cold in his wake. You watch as he shifts gears and- Jesus. When did his hands get so veiny? You remain in your laid-back position as he starts the truck up and peels out of the parking lot. His hand falls to your calf and you unabashedly check out the veins that trace up his forearms. God damn it Bob, it makes it hard to cool down when you know those hands were all over you just a few minutes ago.

Only when you round the corner do you sit back up, feeling a little safer to show your face. That was cutting it close. But at the same time you can’t find yourself caring. Things felt normal for a second. You were back in your Bob bubble. And even when something manages to pop it, he keeps you close enough so the fall doesn’t hurt.

His truck slows down in front of your house, and you turn to say goodbye. His face is still flushed, despite the fact that he rolled the windows down on the way over.

“What is it then?”, he asks out of nowhere.

“What’s what?”, you ask confused.

“Your favorite color?”, it’s a broad question, one that’s never left you feeling quite this elated to answer before. Because this time your answer is staring right back at you.

“Blue”, you respond.

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

Monday back at work is more or less the same as the past week. Everyone of you is putting in your flight hours as you run over maneuvers before getting in the air.

No matter what kind of breeze is blowing in with the San Diego tides, it does nothing to cool you as you make your way back to the tarmac.

You were nervous walking in this morning. Phoenix must have threatened them with some less than kind words, or else you’re sure Hangman would have said something already. He might have given you a brief glance, but nothing else. He didn’t linger.

You asked her what happened after you left and she just shrugged.

“I feel kinda bad, but I pointed the Lieutenant in the direction of someone who was looking for a uniform to have some fun with. I had to drive Fanboy home after, and he almost threw up in my car, but we didn’t see Lieutenant Douchebag again.” So thanks to Nat, no one bothers you about it.

But then there’s Rooster. You’re not sure what happened with him after you left with Bob Friday night, but he’s having a hard time looking away. It’s not pointed at you per say. It feels almost like he keeps zoning out, but right at you. And when you feel his eyes on your face, he looks away when you turn.

You shake it off when you feel him staring as you settle yourself in your jet, in the classroom as you flip through the pages of your manual, and at your lunch table when Bob’s knee knocks into yours.

He doesn’t even look away from Fanboy when he does it. Just checking in. You knock him right back.

You did end up falling asleep on Bob while National Treasure played in the background Saturday afternoon. After what happened the previous night you didn’t get much sleep. Between Tyler, your little makeout sesh in Bob’s truck, and then the gnawing at the back of your head reminding you about your nightmare, you had plenty of material to keep you awake.

It was a lazy Saturday. What you both needed. Sleeping, actually sleeping, with Bob wasn’t something new to you, but a Saturday nap with you on his chest was something to behold. His slender figure might be unassuming, but it was possibly the best sleep you’ve had in the middle of the day. Actually, it might have been the best sleep you’ve ever had. Period.

And he had you home before too late. Or before someone asked why you were with Bob all day long. You did tell your dad you were out shopping with a couple friends. When he asked what you got, you pulled out a couple pieces you’re sure you’ve worn before but he believed he was seeing for the first time.

You tried not to let your cheeks heat up when he asked what else you got up to. Memories of Bob kissing you lazily, glasses forgotten on the coffee table, and his hands tracing up and down your back come to mind.

“Not much else”, you had told him. He believed it, and moved on. Because why would he have any reason not to?

It’s not that you don’t feel guilty, because you do. You’re just not sure he would understand. You’re not lying to him because you’re ashamed or embarrassed, it’s because you want to keep this one good thing you have. It’s not like when you were young and hiding something because it hurt, you’re hiding it because it’s good. It doesn’t weigh you down, it lifts you up and it’s not anybody’s business but yours and Bob’s.

So by Wednesday when in any other instance you’d have huffed and puffed about all the pushups you’ve had to do, you get down to business. Hands sweaty on the tarmac as Hondo counts you and Rooster off. Fritz had gotten the better of him, Payback and Fanboy you.

Staring ahead, you watch as Phoenix and Bob get ready to head out. She stops before you, crouching as you go up and down. Giving you a great view of her groin.

“Be careful when you go back in there”, she warns you, “Mav and Cyclone are both watching and listening.”

“Thank you Nat’s crotch”, you sputter between breaths. Her and Bob walk off, laughter trailing after them, but you’re still wondering why Cyclone is bothering to watch. Surely he’s got better things to do than supervising your squadron.

It’s getting harder and harder not to kiss Bob hello or goodbye when he picks you up and drops you off. Your car is still being taken care of because of the extent of the damage, and even if it’s tough to not have your own car, you’re not heartbroken that he’s still driving you around. You almost invited him in that afternoon since your dad was staying late. But you thought better of it.

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

You walk up on Bob and Phoenix finishing with their pushups when you head up with Coyote. Glancing a last look at the tarmac, you watch as Cyclone approaches Hondo. Arms folded across his chest, sunglasses perched on his nose.

He’s been in and out of the classroom since yesterday. Exchanging quiet words with Mav, and occasionally Warlock. Mouth flat, eyes flicking over his shoulder every once in a while. Your dad hasn’t said anything. Not that you’d had any chance to ask him. He’s been staying later and later lately. Eyes tired when he walks in the door, a smile trying to cover it up. It never works.

Coyote’s jet roars to life, soaring in front of you and pulling you out of whatever conspiracy you might have been threading.

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

Descending your ladder, you watch as Coyote drops to the tarmac next to his jet to start his pushups. Serves him right for thinking he’d get the jump on you.

You’re wiping the sweat from your forehead as you notice Hondo walk over to Coyote, motioning for him to stand up.

“Hey, what’s going on?”. Coyote's furrowed brow mirrors your own as you rest your helmet on your hip.

“Mav wants everyone to report back to the classroom”, Hondo explains with a brooding expression.

“What?”, you laugh, “I beat him fair and square!”

“Don’t worry Mantis, next time when I win we’ll even it out so neither of us will have to do any”, Coyote jokes.

“Like I’d let you get the chance”, you mutter. He playfully scowls at you while Hondo remains with his hands behind his back.

“I don’t think there’ll be anymore pushups anytime soon”, Hondo interrupts as he ushers the two of you back to the building. You share a confused look with Coyote as you head inside.

Everyone’s back in their seats as you give Bob a questioning glance. He shrugs his shoulders, saying I know as much as you do. Right as you and Coyote sit down, everyone shifts to sit straighter in their seats as Cyclone stands at the podium, leaving Mav behind him.

“As you all know”, he starts, “for the past two weeks you’ve been tasked with practicing basic maneuvers, evasion, and endurance.” You shift in your seat, the sweat on the back of your neck dripping below your collar.

“What you don’t know is that this has been preliminary training for something much bigger. Starting tomorrow, you will be training for six weeks to take part in a mission you will learn more about in the following days.” Your lungs tighten, hands turning clammy at the new information.

“We can’t be putting energy into anything other than the tasks at hand. Which is why we will be putting an end to any bets involving physical activity of any kind”, his eyes flit over his shoulder at Mav. Your dad’s jaw clenches as he stares out the window. He can’t stand to look any of you in the eye.

And then it hits you.

The mission he told you about a few weeks ago. The mission Cyclone was keeping you in mind for.

“This isn’t going to be easy, which is why this squadron was selected. You have the best chance of successfully completing this mission and coming home. So keep your head down”, his eyes flick to you, “Put in the work, focus on the mission, and you won’t have anything to worry about.” You meet his gaze and then follow back to Mav who’s already looking at you. There’s no playfulness in the way he stares. All you can see is remorse. A man who’s sorry for what you’re about to go through.

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

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#top gun maverick #bob floyd fanfiction #lewis pullman #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #mavdad #bob x reader #robert bob floyd x female reader

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kawaiigirly21 · 14 hours ago

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Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 7

“P-pregnant? You? How? When? Who!?” Natasha watched as Abby tried to make sense of her ‘sudden’ pregnancy. As if the 5 of them hadn't been dicking her down for weeks at that point. Especially Jinu and Mystery. “Well, when a man and woman love each other very much-” Baby started with a smart alec tone making Abby hit him upside his head with an empty soda can with their faces on it. “Fucking dumbass.” He muttered. “Guys, read the fucking room. She's obviously scared about this.” Romance replied as he took Natasha's hand in his gently.

“Sweetie? Are you ok?” Jinu asked as he offered her a hot cup of tea. “I… I never got pregnant before. I never thought about it before..” That was a lie. She thought about it all the time. She always wanted to be a mother but she couldn't tell them that. They were young. They had their whole lives ahead of them. She couldn't ruin their youth by making them fathers so soon. “I think I'll-” “Can I listen?” Jinu asked. “Listen?” “The fluctuations of the soul… I've been able to listen to them now. Can I listen to it?” Nodding, Natasha lifted her shirt and watched as Jinu put his head to her stomach then after a minute, smiled.

“Oh it's strong. It's definitely a fighter.” He chuckled. “You're gonna be a mama. And we're gonna be dads.” Mystery smiled softly. “Who's the biological father though?” Abby pondered before grabbing a drink from the fridge. “Well we know it's not Jinu.” Baby smirked. “What!? Why couldn't it be me!?” Jinu asked offended as he moved his head from his lover's stomach. “We never seen you two fuck. What makes you think it is you?” Romance added with a teasing smile. Jinu suddenly pulled out his phone and pressed play on a recording he had made.

‘Oh fuck! Jinu! Deeper! Mm! Fuck me!!’ The recording was of him and Natasha in the recording studio. He had her bent over the table with one hand holding her head down while the other held her arms behind her back. ‘Good little minx. You just couldn't wait until I was done working could you?’ Baby then shrugged and held up his hands in a mock form of surrender. “My bad. I didn't know you was fucking her like that.” A tiny bit jealous, Mystery laid his head on Natasha's shoulder. “I hope it's mine…” He mumbled.

“Hey, if it's not, we still have plenty of time afterwards to impregnate her with our own seed.” Abby grinned. “Fertile soil provides the best fruits.” Romance replied. “Lest we tend the soil with care to bring a more astounding crop.” Mystery added nuzzling his head into Natasha's neck. “Why are you guys talking about me like I'm a garden!? And the baby is not produce!” The next day, as the others rested from their concert the night before, Jinu awoke early to find Natasha missing in bed. Then, a sweet delicious smell filled his nose and he inwardly groaned.

She was up cooking for them. Even after they told her they would make their own meals for the time being.

Yawning heavily, the man dragged himself to the kitchen, in which upon entering, his suspicions were correct. Natasha was cooking omelets in one skillet and rushing to scoop rice into bowls for them afterwards. “Sweetie…Come back to bed… you're supposed to be resting.” Jinu sighed. “I'm not showing yet and I've only thrown up 3 times this morning. I'm on a roll. I find keeping myself busy really helps with the morning sickness.” Natasha smiled brightly.

She looked to be full of energy, but looks could be deceiving. Her legs were trembling slightly and her caramel complexion looked slightly pale. She was pushing herself through her sickness to cook for her lovers. How sweet. And incredibly dumb. “Sweetie, let me take over. You need to at least sit down.” Jinu stepped forward to take the spatula from her hand. “What? No! I'm fine! I'm so f-fine. Like the both of you…” She mumbled. “Both? Oh no, you need to lay down. Now.” He scooped her up and placed her on the couch.

Draping a warm blanket over her and kissing her forehead. “I'll finish breakfast. You stay here. And I mean it.” He said in a serious tone before walking back to the kitchen. A few minutes later, Baby emerged from the bedroom. “Why are you up so damn early? Where's Natasha?” He was always a grump in the morning. “First off, it's 8:30 and second, she's on the couch. She decided to make breakfast. After we told her not to drain herself.” Jinu replied. “Damn babe. You must really like putting yourself through a bunch of unnecessary shit. On another note… your tits are fatter. I like.” Baby smirked as he laid on the couch next to her.

“Mm go away. My tits are a normal size…” Natasha mumbled as Baby pulled her on top of him. Her head laying on his chest. “Sure babe. Sure.” Not long after, the others soon arrived. “Damn I'm so hungry I could eat a horse.” Abby yawned. “Oh wow, love the savagery. It's so you.” Romance grumbled trying to wake up and still a little bitter about how Abby kept kicking him in his sleep. “Food please.” Mystery watched as Jinu set the table before taking his seat. Turning his head, he then scrambled out of his seat towards Natasha.

“Is she alright?” Baby nodded as he petted her head while she slept. “She's so cute. Makes you forget she's hundreds of years older than us and probably capable of killing us in just one strike.” Romance smiled softly. “I love her.” Mystery replied with such fondness leaving the rest in shock. They felt the same but to actually hear the words aloud… it was a feeling they couldn't describe. “Me too dude…” Abby spoke. “I love her as well.” Romance smiled. “Yea. I love her too. Hard not to.” Baby added. “We all love her. Deeply.” Jinu responded as he stood next to Abby.

Finding that they were too comfortable near the couch, the group decided to have breakfast in the living room while watching TV with the volume on low to not disturb Natasha. As Jinu's eyes drifted around the room, he smiled to himself. This was home. This was family. And he would die before anyone would try to destroy it.

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lunatf-ao3 · 1 day ago

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SICK CARE ☀︎︎

[TFWFC] Optimus Prime/Human!Reader

[⚠︎]: stomach flu

Okay, question: Should I or should not I do more of this? wfc Optimus get so little attention!! Taking the idea that the reader arrived on Cybertron in a similar way as in the fic 3.000 million years in the past. ⁱ'ᵛᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ⁱᵗ ˢᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ, ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱ ʷⁱˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ!

"Your system is rejecting all food. I don't... understand why."

You can't respond immediately, interrupted by a cramp in your stomach. To Optimus's concern, you've been experiencing physical discomfort for a cyclo and thirteen groons.

Honestly, it's driving him crazy.

Your delicate organism rejects the only organic food they have to offer you, expelling it not long after ingestion. He wasn't quite sure what to do. You had assured him that it was "normal," that you were "sick" and had a "stomach virus."

The term was unfamiliar to him, of course, but he really didn't think it was normal for you to forcefully expel the contents of your tanks through your mouth.

He had to admit that it disturbed him quite a bit. He had never seen anything like it.

"And it will continue to do so. The best thing I can do right now is not eat anything, Optimus. You don't have to worry so much, it will pass... I think. I just got intoxicated from eating something weird."

He didn't like the word "intoxicated" at all.

"I don't think it's healthy for you not to eat anything right now. You're expelling your fuel and you don't look well. It's been my fault. I should have made sure to detoxify them." Optimus sighed, looking at the various organic foods in front of him that he had gathered to try to feed you. His optics turned to your face. You were paler than usual and... wet.

"It's not your fault-"

"You are wet." Optimus pointed out, cupping your face between his digits with concern. "You are releasing fluid."

"T-take it easy, it's just sweat. It's not bad, it's natural."

"I'm sorry... I'm worried I can't help you. How do they deal with that back there, on Earth?"

"On Earth..." Or what will be, in the future, many years after the present, this present. You swallow hard, your ship has been difficult to repair without the necessary resources and tools. Not even you can fully explain the anomaly that brought you here.

But for now, you're fine.

...Fine...

"Medicine. But only to speed up recovery or when it gets too serious. Nothing else."

That reassures Optimus a little, who resigns himself to believing you. "All right," he murmurs, putting a couple more blankets around you. It's been too cold lately, and he doesn't want that to make you worse in any way.

An internal reminder popped up on his processor. "Time to drink some water."

You don't say anything, accepting the small makeshift metal container he had made for you. Purified rainwater.

It quenches your thirst. Vomiting so much dehydrates you.

"There you go." Along with his words, he gently wiped your forehead with a small cloth, cleaning up the liquid you were secreting.

At that moment, a wave of nausea hit you.

Optimus didn't hesitate to bring the dented metal you had been vomiting into earlier, holding it for you while... you emptied your tanks.

He held your hair carefully, making sure the tiny strands didn't get in your way.

"Uhh..." You gasped, finally pulling away after you were done. The sheets felt more comfortable when you lay down again.

Optimus silently wiped your mouth.

"Oh, you don't have to do that..."

"It's okay, it's no problem for me. Your comfort makes me happy. Do you want to rest?"

You smile. "Thank you. And yes, I think I'd like to rest now."

He nodded, sitting down next to your little makeshift nest. Even though he didn't have much time, he wanted to keep you company while he could. "...Would you like to hear some stories from Cybertron?"

"absolutely yes."

"Perfect." He stroked your head. "Make yourself comfortable."

#transformers x reader #transformers #transformers x human #transformers x reader smut #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #optimus prime #transformers war for cybertron #war for cybertron #optimus prime x you

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alexrosa13 · 9 hours ago

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Highschool Sweethearts

highschool!au Caleb x female!reader

Genre: fluff/angsty (but read the warnings!)

Warnings: 2,7k words, Caleb and reader are still in school (so late teens/early adults [since for me school ends when I'll be 20]), petnames (him→you: pips/pipsqueak; princess, you→him: baby), Caleb & reader being the popular couple, creepy men with unsaid intentions (tw: can be seen as an attempted sexual assault, but Caleb's saves the day and nothing happens), implicated fight, mention of beat up bodies and blood, nonsexual nudity (he washes your hair when you bath)

Note: I'm back 💜 first step into an adulthood kept me a lil busy (together with heart (man) problems that are now figured out), sorry to keep you waiting darlings :c

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

No one ever saw such a strong bond at such an early age, but here you were, always together, always inseparable, obsessive? Maybe a little bit.

“Did you see him?” A girl whispered to her friend while taking a seat next to them in the cafeteria.

“Who? The golden boy of the school on the field?” Her friend answered while sipping on her chocolate milk.

“Obviously, who else?” She snarled, her head turning to watch the topic of their gossip enter with his friend group. “Oh god what I would give to be with him.” She rested her chin on her palm, taking a sour expression.

“As if he'd ever look in our direction.” A sound of a tray being dropped onto the table woke her up from her daydream, she looked at her other friend with an imaginary question mark flying above her head. “He's too busy flying after his sweetheart to notice anyone else drooling over him every time he enters a room.” She angrily stabbed her food with a fork, letting out an annoyed breath.

As if summoned, the object of her jealousy walked over to the boy.

They couldn't hear anything, the table of the jocks being too far away from them to hear their conversations, the only thing they could catch was loud laughter.

But they saw everything.

A girl walked over to Caleb, hugged his sitting form from the back and kissed his check, the boy doing nothing to push her off.

A few moments later she was already sitting at his table, by his side, his friends doing nothing to protest, just continuing to mind their businesses.

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, bringing her even closer to himself, his jaw-dropping smile rarely seen without her in his line of vision instantly showing when he looked at her.

Two girls sitting at the table exhaled sadly while looking over at the couple, the third one rolling her eyes at their behavior.

Oh to be you.

“We gotta go to the cinema soon, that movie I've been waiting so long to come out finally has a premiere.” You said while walking down the school corridor with Caleb tailing right behind you, the place he owned by now after being each other shadows for years.

“I'm one step ahead of you, pipsqueak, already bought us tickets.” He smiled proudly when you giggled.

“Thank you, baby.” You stopped in front of your locker, smiling at him over your shoulder while typing the code to open it.

He leaned onto the locker beside yours, his eyes not leaving your figure for a second.

Until...

Something flew to the floor the moment you opened the little door, a envelope of some sort.

You crouched down to pick it up, looking at the heart shaped sticker holding the paper closed.

Caleb stared at the item in your hands, annoyed but not letting it show.

It better not be what he thinks it is.

“Did you put it in my locker?” You asked, glancing at him with question.

He simply shook his head no.

“Pff, weird.” You whispered, taking the books you needed for your next class out, paying half a mind to the white paper in your hand. “Will you walk me to my next class?” You looked over at your boyfriend while closing the locker.

“Of course.” He said, holding onto your bag with his backpack hanging on his shoulder.

“Perfect.” You smiled, one of your hands going up to graze his cheek lovingly before turning around and walking away, knowing fully well he was right behind you.

You made sure to pass by a trashcan on your way, throwing the still closed love letter into it, not really caring about its content.

Your boyfriend couldn't have been happier with your reaction.

It was the longest break between the classes, many students walked out of the school building to spend it outside, sitting close to the football and basketball fields. Many of them took notice of the school's „golden boy” repetitively throwing the ball into the basket, paying half a mind to it while still somehow scoring 90% of his throws, more focused on the conservation he carried with a girl sitting on the ground close to him.

His dearest girlfriend.

Despite the couple being in different classes there wasn't a single school day when they spent their breaks separately, too busy acting all lovey-dovey with each other to notice the jealous stares looking at them from left to right as usual.

“Purple or orange?” You held your notebook up, showing your boyfriend a cute drawing of flowers in those colors.

“Ymmm why don't you mix them together?” He looked over at your work of art, not really understanding what the choice would change.

“That's also an idea, but I need to choose one.” You said, unbothered by the lack of his help, putting your notebook on the field ground while staring at the page in focus.

“And what exactly do you need to choose?” He asked briefly, his head turning back to look at the basket before throwing the ball into it once again, the round object hitting the backboard before falling into the hoop.

“I want to make us matching flower crowns and put an outfit together that's in one specific color, for the photos.” You explained, coloring the petals of the flowers you drew, half laying on the ground.

Caleb stayed quiet for a moment, thinking, “And why is the choice between those two specific colors?” He asked with curiosity.

“Well one is your favorite color.” You started, not really paying attention to your surroundings. “And the other matches your eyes that I love.” The sound of the ball hitting the ground every couple of seconds that accompanied you for the last 10 minutes stopped, you raised your eyes slowly, almost instantly meeting the nebula like irises you adored so much. “What's wrong?” You asked, as if not getting it.

“You...” He started but dropped the sentence before it could leave his mouth. Looking around he noticed a couple members of the school basketball team, his teammates, close to the two of you, raising his hand he caught the attention of one of them before throwing the ball to him and turning back to you, taking a couple steps before crouching down to your level.

A kiss landed on your forehead, sweet and gentle, just like how Caleb was to you ever since you could remember.

“I love you.” He whispered while gazing into your eyes, his ears turning slightly pink.

You smiled lightly. “I love you.” Left you in response to his confession.

He stood up holding out a hand for you to grab and pull yourself up. You walked back into the school building holding hands, your eyes shying to the floor like it was your first week together, still unbothered by the stares you received.

Some people couldn't help but think: am I jealous because I want to be one of them, or do I want to have what they do?

You had a very good idea on just how much your boyfriend was popular in your school.

Girls trying to give him their lunches, love letters, trying to catch his eyes whenever he as much as walked by beside them.

You were the jealous type. But it was quiet jealousy, the one that everyone thinks isn't there when you ignore girls (and boys) all around you giving your man dreamy eyes.

Everyone was shocked with the way you never reacted whenever a girl tried her shot with Caleb.

You were always just there, not even paying attention to their attempts, not even caring.

Why?

Because you knew you were the only one to ever catch his eye the way they all dreamed of.

It would be a lie to say that your ego wasn't being fed every time you heard people gossiping about the two of you behind your back.

At this point? You saw it all as pathetic.

They knew you were together from the moment you joined Caleb's school, two years after him.

They saw the way he held you close and looked at you like you were the very creator of the world.

They heard the way he talked about you, to you, with that deep longing in his voice each time you weren't around.

They could try, but they'll never take your place.

Not when your man is too busy admiring you to notice anyone else batting their eyelashes at him.

“Hey Caleb, we're going to get pizza after school with the whole team, you coming?” He heard the voice of his friend behind him.

“Nah, I'm good, I'm going with my girlfriend on a date.” He said with a light smile at the thought of you spending more time together than you already did.

“Oh c'mon lover-boy, your life can't resolve only around your girlfriend,” Why not? “You need to make some time for yourself and your friends, y'know?” His friend said teasingly, before waving his hand at him and catching up after the team that already began their walk towards the pizzeria.

A moment later a pair of hands covered up his eyes from behind.

“Guess who?” A voice he'll never get tired of hearing spoke in a whisper.

“Hm I don't know...” He pretended to think very hard about the answer. “Maybe... My dearest girlfriend, who I've been waiting for the past 20 minutes.” He turned around in your hold, a wide smile on his face making him look more pretty than usual, while he hugged you tightly, stealing a short-lived kiss.

“Not here!” You giggled, but didn't attempt to free yourself from the embrace anyway.

“Oh please pips, I don't care who sees, let them look.” He says so casually it almost made you blush.

“Damn boy, aren't you confident.” You smiled sweetly, moving away from the hug but reaching out to hold his hand instead. “So, to the amusement park?”

He used his free hand to ruffle your hair with a short laughter at your reaction, before nodding his head and walking forward with your hand tightly wrapped in his.

None of you noticed someone taking a photo from behind you that would later on become a Valentine Day poster on your school official media.

“Baby?” Your panicked, quiet voice reached his ear as soon as he picked up your call.

“What's wrong?” He was left alone in the basketball team changing room, being the one who had the duty to close it and return the key to the school janitor today.

“I-” He heard you breathing out sharply, clearly stressed. “I don't know. I'm in the bathroom on the second floor, I've run in here after I've heard some guys talking disgusting stuff about me when I passed by them.” You spoke fast and quiet, but he managed to pick up every word. “They started following me all the way from the third floor, I ran in here, but I'm scared to come out now, there's no one here anymore, the classes finished already.”

“I'm going there right now, don't worry.” He didn't even pick up his bag and jacket, only closed the door as quick as he could and began his walk to the side of the school where you were, paying half a mind to remember about taking his things later. “How many are there and are you sure they followed you?” Maybe it was just a coincidence?

“Three. I thought so too, at first, but when I picked up the pace they did too, I only managed to get away cause I started running to the bathroom, thinking that they'll go on their way, but I heard them laughing after me and now-” He heard the sound of the door opening and hitting the wall on the other side of the call.

He started half-running.

“We know you're in here!” Caleb didn't recognize the voice, surely it was none of his friends, or yours.

“Running to the bathroom from us, really? Pathetic.” A disgusting sound of laughter sounded from his phone.

“Come on, we won't hurt you, we just... Want to take some nice pics of you, aye?” He heard sounds of the doors opening, probably the doors to the cabins.

“Yeah, we'll make you a little model, don't you want to show the world how pretty you are?”

The handle of the door to the cabin you were hiding in while sitting on the floor moved, not opening.

You grasped your phone tighter, letting out a shaky breath and shutting your eyes.

Caleb will be here soon... It will be alright.

“Oh there you are...” A voice sounded from right outside the door. “Come on out, don't make us use for-”

A pained sound followed.

Your previously tightly shut eyes opened, what was going on?

More groans followed, together with something or someone hitting the floor, or the wall?

Maybe a ceiling...

You heard begging, and curses, accompanied by painful cries.

Just what exactly was going on?

And then silence.

You held your breath, scared.

But then...

“Pips?” A soft voice from behind the door made your heart clench and previously held tears spill out from relief.

“Caleb?” You whispered, moving up to unlock the door, not paying attention to the sound of a call ending.

The door opened quickly and soon you were embraced by the man you felt the safest with.

Your eyes shut again, tears falling onto the material of his shirt while you sobbed quietly, hands holding onto him tightly, not wanting to let go.

“Shh, it's okay, I got you.” He said gently into your hair, his arms holding you closely, gently massaging your back. “No one will ever hurt you.”

You tried to peek at the scene behind him, but his hand on your head stopped you, making sure you'll stay hidden in the crack of his neck.

“Don't look, it's okay.” So you didn't, you knew better, the state of those men didn't matter, not to you and not to him.

“I was so scared...” You let out into his neck, hands not letting go of him for even a second.

“I know, princess, I know. Let's go home.” He said gently, picking your bag and phone from the floor behind you, using his evol.

His hands moved to your thighs, making you wrap them around his waist with ease before standing up with you in his arms, clinging to him like a koala.

You didn't bother looking up now.

He moved you to rest on one of his arms, the other busy holding your things while he carried you out of there.

The blood on the floor and walls will be a problem for someone else tomorrow, but at least he left them breathing.

“I'm fine Caleb, you don't need to pamper me.” You said with a giggle.

The following evening after what took place earlier was peaceful and full of care.

When you came back to an empty home Caleb prepared a bath for you, in the meantime going to make you something light for dinner and then coming back to wash your hair.

The pure innocence of that moment would shock many, after all, what straight man was able to watch woman's naked body without lust?

But Caleb could, he adored you in every form and every shape, the only time he would ever look at you with lust would be the time when you wanted it.

But today? Today you didn't need it, craving love, warmth and comfort that you always found in his arms.

Well also craving his cooking, but that's another point of no importance here.

“I always need to pamper you, after all I've spoiled you so much you don't know how to live without me anymore, now I need to bear the consequences of it.” He laughed, clearly enjoying that fact.

“You're a dummy.” You rolled your eyes dramatically.

You were sat on the carpet in the living room, in his t-shirt and random comfy underwear, with him behind you drying your hair.

“Oh yeah, that's right hah? Caleb is a big dummy who spoiled you too much. Ain't I, pipsqueak?” He teased, to which you let out a scoff paired with laughter.

Your silhouettes visible from outside had to be the purest display of love someone could ever see in their life.

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nightcrews · 2 days ago

Text

Mission Sideways

✦　✦　✦　✦　✦

Gaz x Reader

NSFW | Romance | Humor | Embarrassment

Word Count: 7,253

Rating: Explicit

Status: One-Shot

“Did…did you just…” “Don’t.” You whisper, mortification filtering sourly into your stomach, “Don’t fucking say anything.” “Bloody hell.” He breathes, turning his head away from you. Great. He can’t even look at you now. You might as well crawl in a hole and die, at least then you wouldn’t have to deal with whatever this was.

Additional Tags/Warnings:

••• ▰▰▰ SECURE CHANNEL OPEN ▰▰▰ •••

In your line of work, things can go from good to bad in the blink of an eye. A mission going sideways isn’t unheard of, it’s rather fairly common. They didn’t create Special Forces operatives for no reason, they needed someone who could follow a plan and create a whole new one on the fly for when shit did hit the fan. That, and it was badass to get a crew of top of the line killers together to do what they do best.

Thankfully, you’d never had to do much of the quick thinking for group decisions as a whole and not just yourself. There had been one time you’d risked life and limb by dispatching an enemy soldier with a cluster of hostages at your back, the possibility of him giving away your location as he died outweighing the probability of him definitely giving it away alive. But other than that, it was which weapon would kill the bad guy the soonest? Which path would save your skin the easiest? Which killshot would bring everyone home?

So, one random Tuesday night that found you and Gaz in the Beijing office of a high-ranking Chinese General, you weren’t expecting to have to make a decision to save your life. You left that up to Gaz.

The rest of the 141 had their own assignments, clearing the building and working through the halls for the information they needed. You and Gaz had been tasked with finding a dossier that General Huang may or may not have, in relation to recent “unknown affiliated” attacks on foreign trade vessels. You worked methodically through the office, pulling open drawers of his desk, checking every shelf on the wall, flipping through every book just in case, but the files remained hidden.

“There’s gotta be a trap drawer in the desk.” You say, watching Gaz carefully put the last book back in the bookcase, “There always is in the movies.”

Gaz deadpans a look at you and shakes his head, “Only you would equate this to a movie.”

“Uh, because it is?” You scrunch your face in his direction, kneeling down to run your hands along the wood panels of the desk, rifle thumping against the floor, “Foreign operatives raiding a General’s office for intel in the dead of night? Intel that could possibly save lives and stop a war from breaking out?”

“When you put it that way.” Gaz sounds amused from the other side of the desk, and you can picture his smile before his fingers brush against yours as you search for a secret compartment. You do your best to keep the kicking of your feet and high-pitched giggling in your head to strictly in your head. The last thing you need is for your face to give away the fact that you were so down bad for your partner, that you couldn’t even handle his fingers touching yours for approximately half a second. You won’t even get started on all the cold showers you had to take after a sparring session. Soap lived for throwing you suggestive looks over his shoulder when Gaz wasn’t looking.

Your fingers compressing a panel under the desk wipes all thoughts from your stupid crush-addled brain, and you snap to attention as the panel slides to the side, revealing a thick binder wrapped with a leather strap, “Gaz, I got something.”

He comes around to your side as you carefully remove it from its spot, kneeling next to you smelling like cologne and military gear and heaven. You unwrap it and take out the documents to inspect them, finding dozens of trade routes and correspondences with different entities on when to hit the cargo ships coming through. It was all there, laid out in black and white letters.

“Bravo 2-6 to Bravo 6, how copy?” Kyle says quietly into the mic on his chest.

“Solid copy Bravo 2-6.”

“Got the documents, about to move to RV point.”

“Copy that, Soap should just about be there.”

“Ready an’ waitin’. All quiet over ‘ere.” Soap’s voice confirms.

“Rog. We’re coming to you, Soap.”

But no sooner had he said it, than there were footsteps outside the door, accompanied by a male voice speaking Mandarin, presumably on a phone call. You and Gaz both freeze, peaking over the desk toward the door. Your pulse jumps as the boots pause right in front of it, and the jangle of keys has you grabbing for your rifle.

Gaz swears under his breath, eyes scanning the room for an exit, but finding none, other than the multi-story windows that would most certainly involve your death should you jump from them. They land on a small door on the far side of the room, belonging to a tiny closet that you’d already searched in the hunt for the binder in your hands. In the blink of an eye, Gaz has it ripped out of your grasp, shoved back into the desk, secret panel slid into place, and is dragging you across the room by your arm as keys twist in the lock of the door.

Before you can think, your back is pressed up against the wall of the closet, and Gaz against your front, both of you crammed like sardines in the cramped space. All of your gear doesn’t help matters, and you silently take stock of all the equipment you’re going to move to new spots after this. Just as the General comes striding into his office, Gaz has the closet door silently clicking shut.

You can see the General through the slats in the closet door, thankfully the kind that he can’t see you, and you strain to hear any of the conversation he’s having.

“I thought he was out of town.” You whisper into Gaz’s ear.

“He was supposed to be.” He says, a lethal calm to his voice that said he’d be having a chat with whoever fucked up the intel later.

You can hear the General having a somewhat heated discussion, but it becomes increasingly more impossible to focus as the circumstances of your situation start to set in. Or rather, you are suddenly keenly aware of the fact that one of Gaz’s legs is shoved between yours, much like yours is between his, because every time he moves it rubs against you in all the wrong—or right—ways.

You tried to ignore it, you really did, but with the thought of him being so close, feeling his entire body pressed so heavily against yours, you really were doomed from the start. It also doesn’t help that, again, you’d been well and truly fucked up over this man since you met him. And, in your opinion, it isn’t even your fault!

Gaz, by your definition, was one of the hottest men alive—both in looks and personality. The sarcasm only upped the ante. And the way he could knife a guy? Pure visual poetry. So ex-fucking-cuse you for being a little hot for him.

You had been since the day you first met him, a rookie on the task force shitting yourself but trying to act like you weren’t. Price had paired you up for that first mission, and despite still being a little rough around the edges, Gaz had treated you like an old friend and had your back the entire time. He had ever since.

He was the first person to greet you in the morning, the one who sat next to you in the mess, on infil and exfil, who’d hauled your wounded ass out of a collapsing building even after being shot himself. It’s something special, you think, finding someone who fits so seamlessly into your life, that you wonder how you survived without them. Gaz was as essential as water to you, and that fact alone was simultaneously comforting and terrifying.

Despite all that, though, the two of you had never crossed over the line of comrades. You wanted to—fuck you wanted to—but you’d never been able to place where Gaz’s interest lay.

Back in the closet, the two of you are so close, you can barely breathe in at the same time, chests crushed together and gear not helping. Your head has the option of resting against the wall, or tipping back to rest your chin on Gaz’s shoulder, but either way, you risk inadvertently kissing him if you get too close. He also has you bracketed by his arms on either side of your head, most likely because they didn’t have anywhere else to go, but in your fantasies, because he was about to kiss you within an inch of your life. Stupid. But you were a dreamer, okay?

“Gaz, how copy?” Soap’s voice all but bellows over the comms in the silence.

You cringe, eyeing the General as if he could hear your earpiece, but he just sits at his desk and chats on.

“Gaz?” Soap says again, then your callsign, “Anyone copy?”

Gaz sighs quietly, clicking his mic and all but breaths, “In a bit of a pickle, stand by.”

“Understatement.” You comment, your chin practically resting on his shoulder.

“Ah, could be worse.” He whispers, lips quirked in a smile, “Could be Soap in here.”

You whisper out a laugh, “Worse for me or you?”

He huffs out a laugh too, breath tickling your ear and sending butterflies to where they don’t belong, “Let’s just say, I’m glad I’m stuck in here with you.”

You try not to take that any certain way, but you definitely still do.

Something in the General’s conversation catches Gaz’s attention, and he shifts to try and hear better. This causes his thigh to press up right in between your legs, and it’s all you can do not to gasp in surprise as white-hot pleasure shoots up your spine. Your surprise jolts your body, which only grinds yourself against him further, and you slap a gloved hand over your mouth to muffle your breath as all your flirty thoughts about Gaz culminate into horniness.

And he keeps fidgeting! You have no clue how General Huang hasn’t discovered you both by now with the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot, bending his knees from the lack of space. With every move he grinds his thigh against your pussy, and every move only intensifies your growing pleasure.

He seems to pick up on your distress after you try and shift yourself away from his leg, hands having reached up to ball in the arms of his hoodie, because he shifts back closer to you and frowns, tipping his head down to whisper, “You good?”

You definitely were not good, especially now that his breath was back ghosting down your neck, lips brushing against your ear, voice a raspy whisper. He moves again—the man was now worse than Soap—and it’s all you can do not to honest to God moan as the pleasure takes a sharper turn.

You gasp quietly into your hand, your head thumping back against the closet door as you involuntarily throw it back, your hips bucking forward into him. Gaz fucking twists again, and you squeeze your eyes shut against the impending doom between your legs, gritting your teeth and silently begging for an early grave.

After his leg grinds against you yet again, you grip his arm tightly, clinging to his hoodie as if it were the last shreds of your dignity, and whisper, “Stop. Moving.”

“What?” He asks somehow finding another reason to grind his thigh into you, and you could honestly cry.

“Gaz please stop moving.” You plead. What the fuck was General Huang doing taking so long at this fucking time of night? Wrap the call up and go, buddy.

“Why, what’s wrong?” He asks, concern evident in his voice. If you weren’t practically combusting on his leg, you would definitely find it endearing.

“Gaz—” You start trying to tell him not to move again, when he does exactly that, and you end up biting his shoulder to cover up any of the little noises that might escape you as you fall apart against him.

The feeling radiating through your body can only be described as pure ecstasy, your limbs quivering from it, and—yep, you’re grinding yourself on Gaz’s leg. Holy fuck.

One of his hands manages to find your hip, attempting to steady you and find out what was happening, which only adds to the static in your brain.

As soon as you come down, you want to dive out of the closet and beg General Huang to put you out of your misery already. Like holy fuck, the horror and shame was enough to end your life right there.

“Did…” Gaz pauses, “Did you just…”

“Don’t.” You whisper, mortification filtering sourly into your stomach, “Don’t fucking say anything.”

“Bloody hell.” He breathes, turning his head away from you. Great. He can’t even look at you now. You might as well crawl in a hole and die, at least then you wouldn’t have to deal with whatever this was. Soap was going to eat this right up.

You shift your weight, hips starting to cramp from the angle you were crushed into, when your thigh presses up in between Gaz’s this time. You feel your eyes widen before you brain really catches up, and Gaz’s whole body jerks in your embrace.

He’s hard. Honest to God bricked up.

“Now’s your turn not to move, love.” He rasps out, turning back to look down at you with half lidded eyes. It was a look that you’d only ever had wet dreams of.

You cock your head, and being the person you are, decide to test the boundaries. Lifting your leg, you press it against his boner and watch as his head tips back and lips part, before he snaps back to reality and shoots you a look.

“Sorry.” You say innocently, batting your eyelashes. You ‘accidentally’ do it one more time for good measure, getting him back for all the times he’d done it to you.

“Fuck me.” He breathes to himself, pressing more of his body weight against you in an attempt to immobilize you. You let it work, staring up at him as he stares back, and you’re pretty sure a match would have lit the entire place ablaze from the energy sparked between you. As it is, your stomach flops and you go a little light headed.

Just as you thought maybe Gaz was starting to lean down toward you, General Huang shouts something into the phone, startling you both. He stomps across the room and out the door, slamming it shut before the sound of keys in the lock has Gaz pushing out of the closet.

You eye the windows across the room, wondering if it really was worth just ending it all so you didn’t have to face the embarrassment, when Gaz disrupts your intrusive thoughts by heading over to the desk. He bends down to open the secret drawer, grabs the binder out, and holds it out to you. You take it and then stare at him stupidly until he keys up his mic.

“Bravo 2-6 to Bravo Team, back on track, both of us pushing up to RV.”

“Good copy, Gaz. Exfil is two klicks out.” Price says.

“Lets go.” Gaz says, motioning toward the door.

“Gaz—”

“We’ll talk about it later. Let’s just finish the mission, yeah?”

You nod, turning to head toward the door, and pretend you don’t see him reach into his pants to readjust himself. You also pretend not to commit that to memory for later use.

The others are waiting at the designated rendezvous point, and you slap the binder into Price’s waiting hand, “It’s all there, Cap. Huang’s been the one behind all the recent attacks.”

Price claps you on the shoulder and gives Gaz a proud look, “Good work.”

You hear exfil before you see it, welcoming Soap’s familiar presence at your side as the helicopter blades beat down on you. He bumps your shoulder with his, and you don’t immediately look up at him.

Second only to Gaz, Soap was your constant—your friend, confidante, partner in crime. You trusted him implicitly, taking comfort in his pure friendship. After a hard mission, a failed mission, even a good mission, you looked to Soap for his ability to soothe anyone’s mind. He looked for you, too, and you can only hope you provide the same presence for him.

He bumps your shoulder again, and you turn your gaze away from the chopper to find his ocean blues full of curiosity. Too full.

“So what happened?” Soap asks.

You squint suspiciously at him, “What do you mean? Nothing. Nothing happened.”

He looks at you like you just grew a second head, “So you weren’ in a pickle? What took ye so long then? Too busy winchin’ in a closet somewhere?”

“Winching?”

Soap rolls his eyes, “Kissing.”

“No!” You say, affronted, as if you hadn’t just came on Gaz’s leg and nearly kissed him in a closet.

He gives you a suspicious look this time, humming halfheartedly as he follows you to the newly landed chopper. You file in after Gaz, slipping into your usual seat next to him for the flight back to your temporary base. You risk a glance up at him, knowing uncertainty is probably flashing like a neon sign on your face.

To your horror, Gaz is already staring back, and you look away in embarrassment that you were caught. But fingers on your wrist help you relax a little, and a message tapped in Morse against your skin alleviates some of the worry that had begun to creep into your bones.

We’re okay.

✦　✦　✦　✦　✦

Despite that, for the next few days, you and Gaz dance around each other. Really it was one-sided. He would leave as soon as you entered a room, and if he walked into one you were already frequenting, he turned right back around and left. It was torture unlike any you’d ever trained for.

You knew how to withstand the mind games of an experienced interrogator. Knew how to hold out against the various tools of torture and methods to physical pain. You could detach yourself, disassociate, deal with losing consciousness, suffocate fear. You knew how not to break.

But no one had ever taught you how to withstand losing a presence you’d grown so accustomed to. How to deal with watching them come into a room, see you, and find the nearest exit. How to go from cracking jokes with each other one day, to barely speaking the next. You don’t know how you aren’t supposed to break from this.

So, the day you finally get back to your home base, when Soap announces they’re all going for drinks at their favorite local pub, you jump at the opportunity to drown your sorrows. To your surprise, Gaz comes with.

It’s when you’re four drinks in, that Soap corners you at the bar, blue eyes alight with alcohol and mischief, “Alrigh’ lass, what fuckin’ happened?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, sipping your fifth drink.

“In Beijing.” Soap presses, voice drowned out by the crowd and the music playing from the jukebox, “You an’ Gaz have been avoidin’ each other like the plague since ye went to the general’s office.”

You shake your head, which only makes things dizzier, “Nothing happened, Soap.”

“Bullshit.” Soap says, “You two were thick as thieves, an’ now ye aren’t talkin’?”

“It’s…” You search for words that would tell a different story, but what’s the point? Maybe it would feel better to tell someone about your fuck up, to get it off your chest. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time you talked about such topics with him, the Scot having been clued into your infatuation a long time ago. You sigh, “I fucked up, Soap.”

“How so?”

“I might have…came…on him.”

He stares at you for a long moment before tipping his head in question, “Ye’re gonna need te elaborate on that one.”

“We had to hide in this tiny fucking closet because General Huang showed up, and when I say tiny, I mean tiny. We barely fit.” You explain, “So we’re pressed up against each other, right? And our legs are shoved in between each other. Well Gaz keeps moving around, and it’s,” You motion down there, “you know, up against me, and I just…fucking orgasmed on his leg.”

“Oh fuck.” Soap says, but looks like he wants to burst out laughing.

“Yeah, and then he got hard.”

“Oh fuck.” Soap grins, leaning into your space, “He came too?”

“No, thank god!” You press a hand to your chest, “But now he barely even looks at me. I fucked it all up, Soap. He probably thinks I’m the most disgusting piece of shit on the planet.”

Soap looks bewildered as he takes a drink of his beer, nearly sputtering as he asks, “Are ye out yer heid, lass?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Ye think Gazzy isn’ talkin’ te ye because he thinks ye’re disgusting?” Soap barks out a laugh, and you resist the urge to swat his arm as a few people look your way, “Lass, Gaz won’t look at ye because he’ll pop a boner if he does!”

“Come on, be serious, Johnny. I feel like shit. I literally bit off all my fingernails about this.”

Soap’s face is red from held back laughter, “Oh fuck, bonnie, ye’re killin’ me. Ye really are. Gaz is right mad about ye, and you comin’ on his leg probably made ‘im nearly pass out. I’m dyin’ just thinkin’ about it.” He pauses to wipe his eyes, ever the drama, “I guarantee he hasn’t stopped thinkin’ about it since then. Take it from me, once somethin’ like tha’ happens, a hard-on canna be stopped.”

“Okay but how do you know that?” You ask, hope swelling in your chest, “That Gaz getting hard was over me and not just a natural bodily reaction that he didn’t want?”

“Cause he’s crazy fer ye, hen.” Soap says earnestly, “Lad’s been half in love with ye since he met ye.”

“How do you know?”

“Everyone knows, lass.”

You can’t help but look over to the table where the rest of the 141 sits, your heart aching as you watch Gaz laugh at something Price says. His smile is so bright, wrinkling the corners of his eyes. He leans back in his chair, taking a drink of his beer, and slaps Ghost on the shoulder. He looks so incredibly content. So beautiful.

As if he could feel your stare, his eyes flick to yours, and his whole face goes warm with his smile. You smile back, clinging to this one scrap of familiarity he’d given you since you returned. His dark eyes ground you to the spot like they’d entranced you, warm and cocoa-brown, a gentle caress and a shocking jolt all in one.

You were forever bewitched by him.

“See, lass?” Soap says quietly, hiding his smile behind his pint, “Everyone knows.”

✦　✦　✦　✦　✦

By the time Price has wrangled you all back to your wing on base, Soap and Ghost are walking arm in arm down the hallway, competing about who would die for the other more grandiosely. Price strides behind them looking like he needs an Alka-Seltzer. And that leaves you and Gaz to bump shoulders in silence.

Everyone splits off to their respective rooms, calling out a goodnight as they do.

“Night.” Gaz says your name, bumping your shoulder one last time before turning to his door. You walk a couple more steps forward, listening to Gaz’s bedroom door close, before a wave of courage washes over you like you’d only ever felt in a life or death firefight.

Clenching your fists, you straighten your spine and march to Gaz’s door, knocking on it before you can change your mind. He opens it, looking mildly surprised to see you, when you blurt, “I’m sorry!”

“You’re…” He blinks, “Why?”

“For the closet.” You say, deflating a bit, “I made things weird, and I’m sorry. I just…my body just did it and I tried to stop, but I couldn’t. And I know that sounds made up, but I swear to God, Gaz, I’m not trying to be some sort of fucking pervert or anything, I’m just really, really attracted to you, and that probably makes things even more weird now, but it’s true, and that’s why what happened in the closet happened, and—” You take a deep breath, aware that you’re rambling, “And I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I just hate not talking to you.”

Gaz looks momentarily caught off guard, smiles softly for a moment, and then sighs, stepping aside, “Come in, lets not give Soap anymore fuel.”

There’s a scoff from the direction of Soap’s room.

You let Gaz close the door behind you, and watch as he sits down on the edge of his bed. The room is a standard barracks room, but Gaz has put his personal touches here and there. There’s team memorabilia from his favorite football club, some souvenirs from missions you’ve gone on, and photos of his family as well as 141. There’s also a wax melter in the corner by his bed, giving off a soft, warm glow in the otherwise dark room. Lilac fills your nose and puts you more at ease.

“Let’s get one thing straight.” Gaz says, and you ready yourself for his anger toward you, but instead, he says, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” Gaz frowns, the action making the scar on his cheek dimple, “Fuck. I’m the one who should be on my knees begging you to forgive me.”

That wouldn’t be so bad—

“But you didn’t do anything.” You say, forcing yourself not to think about Gaz on his knees, staring up at you with those wide dark eyes, eyebrows turned up, begging—and you’re thinking about it.

Gaz shakes his head, “I’ve been avoiding you since we got back.”

“Oh.” You say, hurt stabbing your heart despite already knowing he had been.

“But it’s not for the reasons you think it is.” He swallows thickly, “I’ve just been…thinking. About what happened. And I can’t stop thinking about it.

“Like, thinking about it how?” Jesus Christ, you’re a Special Forces operative, have some fucking eloquence.

“Thinking about being so close to you. About hearing your breaths. About…feeling you come against me.” He sighs, wetting his lips, and his eyes grow heavy with something dark and feverish, “Wanting to make you come myself.”

O-kay you were not expecting this turn of events when you came here tonight. You thought you were going to explain yourself, grovel to him a bit, swear it would never happen again, and hope for the best. Not listen to Gaz tell you he wanted to get you off for real this time.

“I thought I made it weird.” Gaz continues like he hadn’t just said what he does in your sex dreams, “Getting hard over you while you were standing right there? Fuck, that was scarring. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

“Funny, that’s how I felt about coming on your leg.” You say with an awkward laugh. You wish someone would actually just shoot you.

Gaz chuckles too, “And even worse, like I said, I kept thinking about it. So when I’d see you around base, I’d get a fucking hard-on almost instantly. Didn’t want to risk you seeing it.”

So Soap had been right, the bastard.

“Well, if it helps,” You feel your face flush neon, “I can’t stop thinking about it either.”

“About?”

“Everything you mentioned before—being so close, feeling your breath, feeling you.” You dare to look at him, swallowed whole by the roaring fire in his eyes. The heat there, the want only adds to the liquid courage in your system as you continue, “Thinking about what else might have happened if we’d been in there longer.”

“Oh?” He arches an eyebrow, his slim fingers wrapping around your wrist to just hold it, “And what else would you have wanted to happen? That closet was pretty tight.”

You shrug nonchalantly, but inside, your heart is hammering away and you’re on the floor of your mind rocking back and forth, “Don’t act like you weren’t about to kiss me, Kyle, I won’t listen to you.”

He huffs out a laugh, suddenly pulling you between his legs. His head is level with your breasts, hands resting on the back of your thighs. When he looks up at you, his dark eyes glint, eyebrows pulled up in a pout, “Too bad I never got the chance. I really wanted to.”

“Yeah too bad.” Your hands travel from his shoulders to the back of his head, “Not like I’m not right here or anything.”

“And you’d want me to?” He asks, voice still playful but with an edge of seriousness, “Kiss you?”

“I have since I fucking met you, Gaz.” You finally admit to him, “I’ve been obsessed with you for just as long.”

“And here I was thinking I was the only one.” His thumbs rub circles on your thighs, “Trapped in that closet panicking because I’m head over heels for the girl I’m smashing. And not the way I wanted to be.”

“Definitely not what I had in mind when I thought of being crushed by you.” You agree.

“Then, you want to know what else I’ve been thinking about? Other than what happened in Beijing?”

“Hmm?”

He looks down at your breasts thoughtfully, then back up at you, his hands smoothing up your leggings to squeeze your ass, “I could tell you, or I could show you.”

You nod, stomach dipping, “I’ve always been more of a hands-on person.”

One long arm reaches up to grab you by the back of your head, pulling you down to smother your mouth with his, lips warm and needy. You fall into his lap, scrambling to get your legs on either side of his as his tongue drags against your lower lip. You don’t have the willpower to draw this out, to tease him, opening your mouth to allow his tongue to glide with yours. The taste of him overwhelms you, alcohol and gum and Kyle, and you wish the incident in the closet had happened a whole lot sooner because damn.

His arms snake around your waist, pulling you into him as close as possible, breath warm against your lips whenever he opens his mouth to catch his breath. You wrap your own arms around his shoulders, breaking away from him to use your weight to push him back against the bed. His chest rises and falls with his pants, hands gripping your waist as you lean back down to kiss him again.

“Tell me again,” Gaz says against your lips, “why we haven’t done this sooner?”

“Fuck if I know.” You answer, “I didn’t know you were interested.”

“You do now.” He says, and you can feel him smile. His hands frisk up from your hips, pulling your shirt with it. Those dark eyes search your face for any sign of hesitancy, but you give him none. As if you hadn’t dreamed about Gaz getting you naked before.

The fact that you aren’t wearing a bra has his eyes closing and lips curling into a smile, and you shrug, “They’re uncomfortable.”

Gaz hooks a leg around your waist and flips you onto your back in the blink of an eye, his fingers making quick work of your leggings and panties. His eyes roam your body, drinking in everything he hadn’t been able to see before. You let him look, basking in the glow of his attention. You loved the way your body looked, weren’t shy of someone seeing it, and having the person you’d always wanted to see it actually see it? Euphoric.

“God you are something, love.” Gaz mutters, pulling his hoodie over his head. You’d seen him shirtless so many times, practically drooled over it in the gym, and now being able to run your hands over his muscle, the tattoos, the scars, you don’t think there’s any going back from this. He was the point of no return disguised as dark skin and old knife wounds.

“Speak for yourself.” You say, arching an eyebrow at the v dipping below his jeans.

He looms over you, one hand squeezing one of your breasts as his mouth finds your neck. It trails lower, down over your collarbone and to the other breast, tongue swirling over your nipple before nipping at it with his teeth. You make a small noise in your throat, and then gasp when his fingers pinch the other nipple.

“You have amazing tits, love.” He mumbles, voice half muffled by said tit.

“And you have an amazing mouth.”

He laughs, eyes flicking up to yours, and he smiles devilishly, “You haven’t seen the half of it, yet.”

“Big talk.” Your voice jumps as he bites your breast rather harshly, and the ache between your legs grows, “Hope you can back it up.”

“I can.” He says confidently, and, just to prove his point, he abandons your breasts to kiss a path down your body, until he’s settled between your legs. Your thighs are thrown over his shoulders, and he leaves bruising kisses along the inside of them that you know you’ll be staring at for the next few nights. He hooks his arms around your hips and pulls you into his face, and when his fingers finally part you and his tongue licks a stripe of fire right up to your clit, you finally let your head tip back in bliss.

Gaz had not been lying when he said you hadn’t seen the half of what his mouth could do. His tongue, warm and slick, pressed firm circles against your clit, arching your back off the bed as your pleasure built up as embarrassingly fast as it had in the closet. He seemed acutely aware of this fact, because every time you felt your stomach tighten, body coiling tightly, he’d dip his tongue low to ease you from your orgasm. Back and forth he did this, building you up, only to bring you back down. It was give and take, and it was driving you fucking insane. But the sharpness you felt every time you almost came was unlike anything before it, and it was suddenly daunting just how intense it may be.

“Fuck, Gaz, come on.” You whine after he brings you back down again, the frustration of being so close so many times making tears prick at your eyes, “I’m dying here.”

“So dramatic.” He says against your pussy, and you barely resist the urge to grind your hips into his face for something, anything.

“Please, Gaz, I’m actually begging.”

He chuckles, but this time, when he presses his mouth to your clit, two fingers slip their way into your pussy. You slap your hand over your mouth as you cry out from the intrusion, pleasure lighting up every nerve in your system. And even if he tried to bring you back down, Gaz would not have been able to stop the orgasm that grips your entire body in fire and ice and dark and light. Your calves wrap around his head, pulling it more firmly into your pussy, fingers pulling harshly at his short hair as your moans bounce off the concrete walls.

Gaz’s tongue helps you ride through it, continuing the circles as his fingers curl inside you. You should maybe be embarrassed that all it took to make you come was one thrust of his fingers, but you can’t think around the tremble of your body and numbness in your limbs.

When it finally ends, you lay light headed against Gaz’s pillows, watching him sit up and crawl over you in a daze, “Who taught you that?”

“Me, myself, and I.” Gaz says with a smug smile, “And lots of trial and error on willing participants.”

“Feel free to use me as an experiment whenever you want.” You say earnestly, trying to smile, but you’re pretty positive it’s more of a crazed look.

He hums, kissing you once before leaning back to unbutton his pants, “You had me at ‘feel free to use me’.”

“That’s fine too.”

He gets his pants off, and you finally get to stare unashamedly so at his dick. And it is a dick. One of the nicest—no, the nicest dick you have ever seen. He takes it into his hand, sighing at the touch, and pumps himself a few times to relieve some of the ache. When he lets it go, you watch it bob, undoubtedly throbbing as it had been in the closet.

“Is it okay if we skip the blow job this time?” He asks, kneeing your legs apart as he drapes himself back over you. His cock nestles itself along your pussy, hot and hard and—yep—throbbing against you, “I just really don’t think I could last with your pretty little mouth on me.”

“I’ll make it worth the wait.” You boast, and you do believe you can back it up just as well as Gaz had, if the raving reviews on your blowjobs had anything to say about it.

“I’m sure you will.” He breathes, mashing your mouths together and crudely shoving his tongue into your mouth. You wrinkle your nose at the taste of yourself, but it came down to picking and choosing your battles, and you’d rather have Gaz’s tongue in your mouth than not.

He lifts his hips just a little, shoving a hand in between your bodies to guide himself between the folds of your pussy. Just as you think he’s about to push in, he hesitates and asks, “You’re sure you want this?”

You open your eyes, meeting his dark gaze, and something soft bleeds into your chest and floods your heart, “I’ve never wanted it more with anyone else.”

A tender look flits across his face, and the softness enveloping your heart deepens. Holding your gaze, he pushes the head of his cock into you, and you gasp as you feel him stretch you open, filling you to the brink of too much. His eyes glaze over almost instantly, mouth going slack as his hips bob more and more of his cock further into you. He lets out a hiss when he’s buried himself fully inside, letting his forehead drop to rest against your shoulder as he pulls his hips back. You moan as you feel the drag of every single inch of him, fingernails digging into the meat of his shoulder-blades.

His hips snap forward, rocking your body with them, and you can’t help but clamp around him as he lets out a quiet moan of his own. He sits up then, his hands gripping your hips tightly as his own continue their slow roll into you. He hums with every thrust, breathing heavily through his nose. His head tips back, the muscles of his stomach flexing with every thrust of his hips.

And holy fuck there is no way you could ever fuck someone else again. Gaz has gone ahead and ruined you before he’d even finished fucking you.

He catches you by the backs of your knees, his cock slipping out of you as he pushes your legs back as far as they can go, until your knees are resting on either side of your head because you’re a flexible bitch. He fucks right back into you in one long stroke, hot and thick, and the moan you let out can only be described as filthy.

The new angle has him hitting deeper, and you find yourself holding onto your own ankles, tucking your legs under your arms for dear life as his cock takes you apart.

“That’s right, good girl,” Gaz pants, the sound of his thighs slapping against yours making your head spin, “take it just like that for me.”

His thrusts are hard and fast, drilling you down into the mattress so roughly you bounce back to meet him. Distantly you think the bed might be squeaking too loudly, and if it’s not, the headboard is definitely slamming against the wall bordering Soap’s room, but one particularly deep stroke has you forgetting who Soap even is.

Gaz slams into you again, but instead of pulling out, he ruts into you, humping himself against the pillow of your ass as if the thought of not being as far inside you as possible is unbearable. You let go of your legs as he falls over top of you, continuing the frantic grind of his hips, and let them wrap around him in relief.

“Feels amazing.” Gaz whimpers against your neck, head tucked into the crook of your shoulder, “So fucking good. Gonna come soon.”

You can only nod as your pussy clenches, and he hisses, grinding into you a few more times before pulling out completely. He wraps a fist around his glistening cock, jerking himself until he’s moaning, hot, thick ropes of come streak across your belly. He whimpers as his hand frantically pumps his cock, hips bucking into it as more come unloads onto you. You watch him, enraptured by his every move, every sound.

You were so fucked. By him. For him.

As soon as the last of his come was spattered onto your stomach, he flops next to you on his back, panting heavily up at the ceiling. You want to roll over to press yourself to his side, but you’re still half-paralyzed from your orgasm and Gaz’s dick. That, and you’re still covered in his come.

Gaz tips his head to look over at you, grinning slightly as he says, “How you doin’, love?”

“I think you nearly killed me.” You groan.

“That a compliment?”

“The highest form.”

“I’ll wear it with honor then.” He says, rolling onto his side to plant a kiss to your forehead, and then groans to his feet. You watch him disappear into his bathroom and then reappear with a damp washcloth, feeling your face heat up as he gently wipes you clean.

“Thanks.” You say, suddenly shy despite having been fucked within an inch of your life five minutes ago by the guy.

Post-sex had never felt like this before—tentative, fragile. It was probably because you’d never had feelings for the people you hooked up with in the past, leaving before you had to be told to. You waited for the inevitable hints Gaz would throw your way, an awkward smile, a cleared throat, a declaration that he was going to bed and you should too.

But he simply crawls into bed next to you, leaving you with the side closest to the wall, and pulls you up against his chest. You blink in his embrace, daring to let yourself get comfortable there. With Gaz, you felt safe. With him, you belonged.

“Stay.” He says softly, voice reverberating through his chest against your ear.

You smile to yourself, all shy thoughts dissolving into fondness instead, “Yes, sir.”

Gaz groans good-naturedly, then says “Thanks for coming on my leg in that closet.”

“Don’t mention it.” You murmur, falling asleep for the first of many nights with your sergeant, floating on whatever cloud allowed that sort of debauchery.

••• ▰▰▰ SECURE CHANNEL CLOSED ▰▰▰ •••

For this and more, come check me out on AO3!

#gaz call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz x you #kyle gaz smut #gaz x reader #gaz x you #fanfic #fanfiction #smut

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savvyscribbleswriting · 15 hours ago

Text

Pairing: Johnny Storm (as portrayed by Joseph Quinn) x fem!Reader

Summary: You are married to Johnny Storm and expecting your first child. Being married into the Fantastic Four, though, it’s not your average pregnancy. It’s all worth it, though.

Word Count: ~8.0k

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: I’m going in blind with this one; nothing is set in stone with regards to plot/setting/characters/other; no use of (Y/N); the Fantastic Four are a team with powers here; Franklin Richards does not exist; implied sexual situation; vague pregnancy/labor terms and experiences; some possible inaccuracies regarding pregnancy and labor; insecurity and doubts connected to pregnancy; some sexist 1960s attitudes regarding women and motherhood; mentions of another popular Marvel group (read to find out which one!); some possible inaccuracies regarding said popular Marvel group (apologies!)

Author’s Note: I actually wanted to do this story first, but it went in all sorts of crazy directions before landing right where I wanted to. (I almost wish I could’ve posted it around Father’s Day given the subject matter.) Now, let’s see how many of my predictions for a Fantastic Four baby come true in the new movie. As always, I hope you enjoy!

P.S. Shoutout to an old high school theatre friend of mine whose name I used for Johnny and Reader’s baby.

P.P.S. I DO NOT OWN THE FANTASTIC FOUR OR ANYTHING ELSE MARVEL-RELATED!!!

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It had been three years since you met Johnny Storm, and almost one year since you tied the knot with him. You two had been through so much during that time, especially the space mission that gave Johnny and his entire family superpowers. As he navigated his new abilities and elevated place in the world, you stuck by him to give him constant love and assurance. He loved you right back and made sure you never forgot how special you were. And it wasn’t just him. Reed, Sue, Ben, and their family robot H.E.R.B.I.E all knew you’d be a great addition to the family the very night Johnny introduced you at family dinner. You were so good to and for Johnny and fit right into the household.

Take tonight - You were helping Sue and H.E.R.B.I.E make dinner for the boys. It was Johnny’s favorite meal and you made certain to take extra care with everything. You talked with Sue and laughed at H.E.R.B.I.E’s little antics as you went on cooking.

All of a sudden, you started to feel ill. The smells of the kitchen, once heavenly and comforting, simply weren’t agreeing with you. It got to be too much and you found yourself hurrying to the bathroom to throw up.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” you heard Sue ask as she gently rubbed your back. She then turned around to retrieve the glass of water she instructed H.E.R.B.I.E to get you.You drank it slowly. Your head was in a tizzy but you managed to push through to answer, “I am now. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

Sue shook her head. “Don’t apologize.” She proceeded to feel your forehead. “You don’t seem to be running a fever. Do you think you can keep cooking?”

“Honestly, no,” you admitted, taking deep breaths when you weren’t finishing your water. “I’m afraid I’ll get sick again. The smell of everything… it’s just too much. I don’t understand. This has never happened to me before, and I’ve been fine all day.”

Sue slowly helped you to your feet and guided you to the room you shared with Johnny. “How about you let me and H.E.R.B.I.E finish cooking? You just go to bed.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I’d hate to abandon you two.”

“You’re not abandoning us. You’re obviously not feeling well and you need to take care of yourself. Just rest for a while. We can bring you some food later. Maybe some snacks that won’t upset your stomach.”

You nodded, offering as big a smile as you could muster. “Thank you, Sue.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” she said, leaving you to get settled.

Once the bedroom door was shut, you peeled off your clothes and put on a pair of Johnny’s pajamas that felt so nice. You shut the blinds and turned off the lights before climbing into bed. Your eyes immediately closed and your brain powered down the moment your head hit the pillow.

The only reason you woke up was because you heard someone gently calling your name and felt them nudging you awake. You slowly opened your eyes to find your husband illuminated by a faint glow, probably a lamp on the other side of the room. He sat on the edge of the bed next to you in another pair of his pajamas. You blinked and moaned as you sat up, making him chuckle.

“How long have I been sleeping?” was the first thing you asked.

“A couple hours,” Johnny said. “When me and the guys came in, Sue told us what happened. They’ve all gone to bed now. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess. I’ll feel even better with some food in me.”

“Way ahead of you, honey,” Johnny grinned. He quickly moved to the nightstand to present a plate of chopped fruit, crackers, and cheese and a cup of your favorite tea. He handed everything over to you before taking his place next to you in bed.

“Thank you so much!” you beamed with so much love and gratitude.“Anything for you,” Johnny said with the same amount of love. He leaned into give you a kiss, but you quickly turned your head so he landed on your cheek. “I’m sorry!” you giggled. “I just don’t want you catching whatever I may have. Plus, my breath probably still smells from earlier.”

“Fair enough,” Johnny agreed, opting to give you a big, lingering kiss on your forehead. You blushed and promptly dug into your food. You eventually let go of the mess from earlier… but not for long.

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You thought the incident from last night was a one-time thing, but the next morning you woke up with another strong urge to throw up. You jumped out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, barely making it. It was just as bad as before, which made you worry. It made Johnny worry, too. He followed you as soon as he felt you leave the bed. “Jeez, honey, are you okay?” he asked, concern etched on his face as he knelt next to you. After a few deep breaths, you responded, “I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You can’t help how you feel.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m really worried, Johnny.”

“Me, too.”

Suddenly, you both heard Reed call out, “Johnny! Don’t forget our work for today! I’ll meet you in the lab in 20 minutes!”

Johnny only took a second to think before deciding, “No way. I’m going to stay with you today.” He got up so he could let Reed know, but stopped when he noticed you shaking your head as you tried to stand.

“No, please!” you pleaded. “Reed really needs your help in the lab today and you know how he gets when he’s hyper-focused on something.”

��But you look like you really need me now,” he argued, holding you in place and looking you square in the eye. You held him and looked at him right back. “We don’t know that. For all we know, this could be a 24-hour bug or something. I don’t want you dropping important team stuff for nothing, even if it involves me.” Johnny frowned, still not convinced. You offered, “If it will make you feel better, I’ll go to the doctor, come straight back here, and not do anything for the rest of the day. I’ll let Sue know. She’ll be a bit more understanding than Reed right now, I’m sure.”

Johnny let out a deep sigh. “I don’t care if I’m in the middle of handling an atomic bomb, let me know everything when you can.” You giggled. “As if Reed would let you handle a bomb.”

Johnny gasped dramatically as you made your way back to the bedroom. “Now get cleaned up! I’ll call Dr. Stratten to make an appointment.” A smile finally broke out on Johnny’s face. As he quickly got ready, he forced himself to ease up and believe that everything was going to be okay.

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You couldn’t believe it.

You just couldn’t believe it.

You had returned from seeing Dr. Stratten, finally knowing what was making you so sick. The weight of the diagnosis was so much all you could do was sit on the couch for hours in deep thought. With each tick of the clock came another thought, idea, problem in your mind.

Johnny was at the center of everything. What would he think? How would he react? Would he be happy? Scared? Angry? Would he leave you?

You didn’t have to wait long for an answer. You heard the elevator doors open and immediately jumped up to meet your husband.

“Hey, honey!” he exclaimed, rushing over to you to hug you tight. “I got all my work done as fast as I could. So, what did the doctor say?”

You took just another moment to hold him before pulling away. “Well…” you started, “I’m not dying or anything like that.”

“Great! That’s good! But why were you throwing up?”

“It’s nothing bad, per se.” You detached from his hold completely to cocoon yourself. You struggled to meet his gaze as you began to explain. “Um… do you remember when we all went to that benefit gala a couple months ago and we had a little too much to drink and when we got back you started telling me how beautiful I looked and then we-?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Johnny interrupted, blushing at the memory. “But what does that have to do with-“

“Johnny, I’m pregnant.”

Johnny’s mouth snapped shut, his mind going blank. You closed your eyes and waited with bated breath for… something, anything from him. Eventually, the wheels in Johnny’s mind picked back up.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You were going to have a baby.

You were going to be a mother.

You were going to have his baby.

He was going to be a father.

The growing excitement made him pull you into a hug that was even tighter than the previous one. You were shocked at the action. You were even more shocked to hear Johnny sniveling in the crook of your neck. The weight, the warmth, the vulnerability of him, made you start to cry, too, as you reciprocated his hug. You basked in each other arms for who knows how long, your breathing and soft crying becoming in sync. Johnny pulled away to shock you a third time.

“I’m so happy.”

“Yeah?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yes! Honey, I want this baby. I want this baby with you.” He gently placed a hand on your stomach where your child was already growing. “Hey, kiddo,” he whispered. “I’m your daddy. And the person carrying you is mommy. We are going to take such good care of you and you are going to be so loved.” He turned back to you. “I love you so much.”

Somehow, even more tears poured out of your eyes and you’re pretty sure a bit of snot came out of your nose. You wiped as much of it away as you could so you could kiss your sweet, wonderful, and fantastic husband. And strong, because he lifted you up and spun you around in a giddy whirl. You two laughed and kissed some more, solidifying this happy moment.

You were going to be bringing a baby Storm into the world.

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Your pregnancy started off normal.

When you and Johnny told the others the news, there were many hugs and congratulations as to be expected. Each offered help in their own way on the spot, something they stuck to as the days turned into weeks and months.

Being a woman herself, you went to Sue with most of your pregnancy and motherhood concerns. She gave you as much advice as she could and, for the things she didn’t know, she helped you find some good books on the subjects. She also went shopping with you on more than one occasion for various things for you and the baby (you two always managed to surprise the boys with how much shopping you could do in a day).

Ever a man of science, Reed said that he would contribute to monitoring your health. He checked your vitals every now and then, made sure you had a good diet and exercise plan, and even did a bit of research regarding what your baby might look like (boy or girl, tall or short, your hair color or Johnny’s, your eye color or Johnny’s, etc.). He also built a new, more family-friendly car so that when the time came for you to deliver, you all could get to the hospital with little complications.

The dynamic duo of Ben and H.E.R.B.I.E did acts of service. Needed to run an errand? They offered to do it for you so you could get your rest. Wanted to keep up with your exercise routine? H.E.R.B.I.E set reminders and Ben was great at showing you what to do in a safe manner. Had any weird cravings? The two made sure it tasted like a gourmet dish.

And, of course, Johnny was right there learning with you, helping you with this or that, and showering you with tons of love. As your belly got bigger and you began to have some insecurities about your appearance, he was constantly telling you how beautiful you looked. He also reminded you how strong you were and how lucky he was, which was funny because you thought he was just as strong and you just as lucky. With each passing day, you both got more excited about your bundle of joy.

It wasn’t until the boys were attempting to build the crib in the baby’s new room that things took a bit of a turn. You and Sue were sitting on the sidelines snacking away on some popcorn while the men and robot argued in a semi-circle.

H.E.R.B.I.E piped up with some noise as he waved the instructions wildly.

“Yeah, I know what the instructions say, H.E.R.B.I.E,” Ben said, a hammer in one hand and a crib bar in the other, “but I’m telling you this way is better. It’ll make things more stable.”

Reed peeked over at the instructions. “I agree with H.E.R.B.I.E, Ben. If we do it this way-“

“I just want to point out that you guys said this would take about an hour and it’s currently going on three,” Johnny groaned. He then caught a glimpse of you giggling softly. How could he not crack a smile at the sight? He was back to being cranky, though, as Reed, Ben, and H.E.R.B.I.E continued arguing.

“I think we should take everything apart and start over,” Reed suggested. H.E.R.B.I.E nodded his approval while Ben shook his disapproval. “No way. We’re so close to having this finished,” he said. “And I’m about this close to setting the entire thing on fire!” Johnny cried out, holding his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart. You and Sue couldn’t contain your laughter at that.

“I can only imagine our baby having that fiery temper of yours, Mr. Storm,” you commented.

Reed stopped what he was doing and whipped around to you. “Say that again,” he demanded. You did as you were told, albeit a bit quizzically. “I was just saying that our baby may have Johnny’s temper.”

“A fiery temper…” Reed trailed off, looking between you, your protruding belly, and Johnny. “Fire powers…” You were starting to get worried, as were the others. Reed didn’t help matters by jumping to his feet and running out of the room.

You all looked at each other, stunned. “What just happened?” you asked Sue. She knew her husband better than anyone, after all. “I don’t know,” was all she could say.

“Great. Now that’s one less set of hands to help out with this,” Ben mumbled, trying to remember where he was so he could continue his work with the hammer.

Normally, Johnny would let out a snide remark under his breath before begrudgingly going back to the task at hand. However, something in his gut told him to set that aside and follow Reed. “Let’s take a break,” he said, getting up and stretching his limbs. “I’m going to check on Reed.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” you asked. “No, no,” he insisted, leaning over to give you a quick kiss. “I won’t be long.” With that, he left the room, leaving you, Sue, Ben, and H.E.R.B.I.E even more confused and concerned.

Johnny checked the entire family floor first before going to the one other place Reed could be – his lab. Sure enough, when he got there, there was Reed at his chalkboard furiously scribbling some stuff down in a newly-erased area. He would take a break for only a couple seconds to mutter something to himself before writing again. Johnny tried to decipher what Reed was calculating, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“Reed!” Johnny called out, which miraculously got Reed to stop and turn around. Johnny slowly stepped closer to Reed’s work as if that would make things clearer to him. “What’s all this?”

“This,” Reed pointed to his writing, “is all the possibilities I can come up with regarding your baby’s genetics.”

“What are you talking about? I thought you already went through all of that with us. The baby has a strong possibility of being a girl. She won’t have my hair but she will have my eyes. When she gets older- “

“It’s more than that, Johnny,” Reed interrupted. “Each child gets fifty percent of their DNA from the mother and the other fifty from the father.”

“Right,” Johnny nodded along.

“But your DNA changed when we went into space. That’s how you got your powers. Who knows how much of that power you could pass onto your child.”

Johnny’s mouth hung open in shock. You and him had been so caught up in the fantasy of bringing up a baby just like any other couple that he forgot that you weren’t any other couple.

The revelation was like a cloud hanging over Johnny all the way back up to the family floor. Even the surprise of Ben and H.E.R.B.I.E finally finishing the crib wasn’t enough to chase the cloud away. Of course you noticed that something was bothering your husband, but you waited until the two of you were in bed that night to talk about it.

“Johnny, what’s wrong?” you started. “You’ve been awfully quiet ever since you and Reed came back.”

For a moment, he considered not telling you, but that’d be tantamount to lying and he’d never do that to you. “I just…” Johnny tried, not really knowing where to start or how to say it. You gently took his hands in yours. “Take your time,” you said.

Johnny took a deep breath and tried again. “Reed was in the lab trying to figure out our kid’s genetics. And not the fun stuff like what color hair they’ll have or if they’ll like vegetables right out the gate. He said there’s a chance our baby will have powers like me. Since they’ll only have half my DNA, though, it’s possible that they might not have the exact same powers. Reed even said they may not get powers until they’re a toddler or a teenager or maybe when they’re middle-aged. It was just scary enough wondering if I’m going to be raising our kid right in the normal ways, like making sure they’re clean and fed, playing with them, teaching them right from wrong. But if they have powers… It all just really threw me for a loop.”

Johnny couldn’t help but slump into your lap once he was done. His head was in front of your stomach where your baby was resting, growing, waiting. The thought, plus all the previous thoughts, swirled around in his head. You simply ran your fingers through his hair in an effort to ease his mind. That seemed to help because you could feel his breathing return to normal. Before he could fall asleep, you nudged him to sit back up and face you.

“How did you figure your powers out?” you asked.

Johnny thought about it for a moment. “I… experimented. Did a bit of trial-and-error stuff.”

“Were you alone?”

“No. Reed was there. Sue, too. Ben, but mostly to distract me with-“

You giggled while you interrupted, “And was it something that happened overnight?”

“No. It took time. Like, months. You know that. You were right there with me, too. I for sure wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“And how do you plan on teaching our child right from wrong or how to play or how to use their powers?”

It finally dawned on Johnny. “The… same way?” he guessed.

“Exactly!” you exclaimed. “I know this is going to sound weird, but I honestly don’t see how our child having powers will be different from any other challenge parents face with kids. And you’ll handle it just like anything else – by learning from your past and leaning on your family, especially the mother of your child who is right in front of you and believes in you with all her heart.”

Johnny nodded thoughtfully at your response. You were absolutely right. He closed his eyes and tried to turn all his negative thoughts into positive ones. He began picturing him and his child in Reed’s lab working on harnessing their powers. Johnny would pass on all the techniques he learned and watch in amazement as his son or daughter applied them so masterfully… or clumsily and set something on fire. He burst out laughing at the idea.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, glad to see your husband back to normal.

“I was just thinking about teaching our kid how to control fire,” Johnny admitted. “How fun, or funny, it would be.”

“What if they have water powers? Or ice powers?” you wondered.

“Reed may actually appreciate that. It’ll mean less money spent on fire extinguishers.”

You and him shared a good laugh before spending the rest of the night talking about the potential powers of your unborn baby. Johnny began imagining all sorts of scenarios for training your child and even taking them on missions (‘Not until they’re eighteen,’ you stated). The fear was still present with Johnny, but there was a good amount of excitement and determination to balance things out. When he eventually went to sleep, it was with the single thought that his baby was going to be amazing, whether they developed powers or not.

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It wasn’t often that the Future Foundation hosted a baby shower, so when it did it went all out. There were tons of options for lunch and dessert, iced in pink because (as Reed predicted) you were having a girl. Off to the side was a huge stack of presents that ranged from small trinkets and toys to big boxes of diapers and clothes. And some of your coworkers arranged a few fun games like “Baby Bingo” and “Pin the Diaper on the Baby.” It was a joyous occasion and you could not have been happier.

However, things went a bit downhill when you found yourself talking to one of your supervisors, Robert. He was married with two kids of his own, and in lieu of a physical gift he offered you a few words of advice. “Don’t be afraid to take at least four or five years off work. My Marsha did that with both of our kids. She waited until they were settled in school before going back to work, and even then she just does simple stuff like volunteer work at the library.”

“Actually, I plan on only taking a year off,” you stated, biting into your second piece of cake.

Robert raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really?” You nodded. “I know that the foundation can survive without me for however long I need, but I know I’d miss my work if I stayed away for too long.”

“Your baby will be your work.”

“Well, obviously she will be work and the most important work I’ll do, but I don’t see why she should be the only work I do, you know?”

“But how are you going to balance work and a baby?” Robert inquired. You knew the direction the conversation was heading, but you continued in the hope that you could put an end to it. “I’m a smart girl. I am confident I can balance being a mother and career woman.”

“So, is he going to be hanging off your hips as you try to conduct meetings?”

You finally set your cake down to discuss your plan. “No, she will obviously be in a stroller. And it’s not like I’ll be bringing her to the office every day. Johnny is looking forward to taking care of her, too. He’s already thinking about trips to the park or the lab with Reed, which he insists will be as safe as possible for a baby.”

“Your husband is okay with taking care of the baby?”

“It’s just as much his baby as it is mine, Robert,” you gave him a pointed look.

“What if he’s unavailable?”

“H.E.R.B.I.E is more than capable, I’m sure.”

“But it’s a mother’s responsibility to raise the children. Sweetheart, I’m saying this as a father myself, I just don’t think it’s realistic that you can be a mother and still work.”

You opened your mouth to retort but were thankfully stopped by Johnny. “Hello, mother of my child,” he addressed you as he pressed a firm kiss to your lips. He then turned to Robert and said, “Hey, Robert, Harry form Donations is eying the last of the truffles and I know how much you like truffles.” Robert gasped. “I better run before he snatches them up.” He sped away as you and Johnny waved goodbye.

“I hope he chokes,” Johnny said under his breath.

“How much did you hear?” you asked, grabbing your cake to finish it.

“Enough,” he replied, stealing the fork away from you to have a bite. You wanted to giggle at the action but ended up sighing. “Is he right? Would I really be able to balance work and raising a child? I thought I could, but now-“

“No, no, no!” Johnny said, taking another bit of cake and feeding it to you. “Do not do that. Do not doubt yourself. You can do anything you put your mind to. And if you want to work while taking care of our baby, that’s what you’ll do and you’ll be great at it.”

You slowly let out a smile and went in for another kiss from your husband. It was great that he believed in you. Now you just needed to believe in yourself.

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“Johnny, you could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t!”

“That’s not the point!”

“It’s what matters!”

This wasn’t the first time you and Johnny had this talk, but it was the first time he came close to death.

What was supposed to be a simple takedown of one person turned into war with twenty or so henchmen on the ground and about fifty drones in the sky. Johnny decided to handle the drones and was doing fine until he felt a sharp pain in his back. One of them managed to stun him with a big dose of electricity. His fire form started to flare out and he was barely flying, but he still managed to take out most of them. When he got back on solid ground, Sue forced him (literally forced him with a force field) to stay in the team car. Johnny found himself in and out of consciousness once his body hit the backseat. Before he knew it, the mission was over and they were all back at the Baxter Building. Because he still felt tingly from the electric shock, Reed sat him down in the lab for examination. Just as Johnny was given the okay to head up to you, you surprised him by coming to him.

Johnny had been on plenty of missions as part of the Fantastic Four during your relationship. They almost always involved a routine between you and him - You would wish him luck, he would do his thing, get a little banged up, ultimately make it back to you, you would express your worry, and he would assure you that he would be more careful next time. From the early years of you two dating to when you finally got married and even during the first few months of your pregnancy, he more or less kept his promise. He figured if you could try balancing a career and a baby, he could too. It didn’t really sink in with him, though, that you and him had very different job descriptions. Lately, you felt like he was becoming careless with his powers, reckless even. And when Sue told you how badly Johnny got hurt this time, you decided that enough was enough.

Everyone left the lab so you two could have your moment. It started off like any other conversation between you two after a mission. You expressed your concern, stating that you were seven months along and you couldn’t lose him now, or ever for that matter. Johnny assured you that he understood and stressed that he was fine. His attempts at brushing the whole situation off caused something in you to snap. You started getting anxious as all your fears over him, your baby, and the future poured out. He tried to calm you down, which only made you more anxious until it morphed into anger. This caused him to get angry back at you. That’s how you two ended up in a back-and-forth that went on for a good five minutes.

“What about next time?!”

“I’ll be careful!”

“You always say that!”

“And I always try! It’s not my fault! I never know what someone is going to do or send after us on a mission!”

“Can’t you just stop missions for a while?”

“No, I can’t! My family needs me!”

“I’m part of the family, too! I need you! Your baby needs-!”

Suddenly, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. You winced as you involuntarily hunched over. Another sharp pain sent you wobbling over to a nearby table for support. Johnny hurried over to you, keeping a short distance so that he didn’t hurt you… or you didn’t push him away.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

You closed your eyes and took deep breaths as another wave of pain came. “It’s just the baby. She’s a real kicker,” you said through gritted teeth. You then gathered all your strength and began talking to the baby in a desperate attempt to make the pain stop. “It’s okay. Everything is alright, little one. No need to be so rough.”

“You think she’s reacting to our argument?” Johnny speculated. “Maybe,” you found yourself admitting.

Johnny sighed and hung his head. He didn’t think their daughter would witness an argument from them this early in life, or at all. From the very beginning, he wanted to make sure she knew nothing but love and happiness. Maybe she still could.

“Can I…?” he gestured towards your belly. You didn’t know what exactly he had in mind, but you didn’t stop him as he knelt in front of you and placed his hand over where the baby was kicking. “Hey, kiddo,” he started, trying to make his voice sound upbeat. “I know you can hear mommy and me in there. I’m sorry you have to hear us arguing. Daddy… well, daddy got really hurt today and made mommy worry. I tried making excuses, but mommy’s not having it… and she’s right. I put so much pressure on myself to be there for my family and for the city, but it won’t be long before you arrive and become my world. I want to be here for you, not just when you’re born but forever. That’s not going to happen if I keep putting myself in danger. So, I’m going to talk to Uncle Reed and Ben and Aunt Sue about not coming on as many missions. I’m sure they’ll understand and find a way without me. And I know mommy will appreciate it. That’s what I love about her. She makes me want to be better. You’re so lucky to have her, and so am I.”

Johnny heard a loud snivel and looked up to see you crying. His own tears broke out and he picked himself up to hold you tight. You cried in each other’s arms for another good long while.

This was probably the most difficult thing you two faced so far. You knew it wouldn’t be the last time. You also knew how strong you and Johnny were together. As long as you stayed that way, you were positive that there wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

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It was the week before you were scheduled to deliver.

Feelings amongst everyone were running high.

Reed conducted check-ups every other hour and freaked out whenever you so much as stubbed your toe.

Ben was stress-eating alongside you, even going as far as trying (and liking) some of your weird cravings.

You were surprised to see Sue cleaning and fiddling with everything in the baby’s room about three times a day.

H.E.R.B.I.E was running back and forth trying to help everyone at once.

And Johnny? He was right there panicking alongside everyone else. He would freak out with Reed. He would eat with Ben. He would help Sue clean. He would bump into H.E.R.B.I.E twenty times a day.

You would’ve found the whole thing funny if you weren’t also dealing with your nerves. Every day, you would think about your daughter and start to cry tears of happiness, which would turn into tears of sadness for one reason or another, which made you angry at yourself for being so emotional, which led to you trying to do something productive to make you happy again. The one constant thing you held onto was the promise that Johnny, the whole family really, made to be fully available when you delivered the baby. Just imagining that made you want to cry which led to… you know.

Unfortunately, any and all bad guys didn’t get the memo.

The family received a call that there was some strange activity going on near Westchester County and were begged to investigate. They tried to get out of it but with no luck. The night before they were expected to head out, they discussed the matter amongst themselves. They didn’t want to worry you and, most importantly, break your heart. You surprised them not only with your entrance but also your response.

“You all should go.”

Everyone blinked in shock. Johnny rushed over to you. “Honey…” he started, but you were quick.

“I mean it. They really need you.”

“You need me,” he insisted.

You held his head in your hands and let out a smirk. “I actually won’t need you for another week.” You expected a chuckle from Johnny but got none. He wasn’t going to back down so easily. “I know you,” you tried again. “You’ll be back in my arms, safe and sound, in a few hours. Me and the baby will be fine until then.” You then turned to address everyone. “You all have been so good to me and done so much work and preparation. I can handle myself for a little bit.”

Reed, Ben, and Sue looked at each other. They didn’t seem wholly convinced, but they slowly talked themselves into it.

“I’ll set up a signal for H.E.R.B.I.E to send us if anything should happen,” Reed said, with H.E.R.B.I.E giving agreeable sounds.

“I can set up some snacks for you in the fridge,” Ben suggested.

“I’ll keep you updated on where we are and when we’re coming home,” Sue promised.

You turned to Johnny for whatever he was going to offer. First, he gave you a great big kiss. Then he said, “And I… am going to be on my best behavior.” You let out a big laugh and hugged him tight.

You kissed him and hugged him again just before he and the family set off the following morning. It was hard for you, you couldn’t lie, but you managed to put on a brave face. You and H.E.R.B.I.E waved them all goodbye before heading back to the family floor.

At first, you decided to watch some TV and snack on the food Ben made for you. There was nothing good on, though, and you weren’t terribly hungry. So, you moved onto re-reading one of your parenting books. You stopped when you found yourself repeating the same sentence five times. H.E.R.B.I.E offered to play some card games with you, but you knew he was letting you win which kind of took the fun out of things.

Suddenly, you had this strong urge to go to the bathroom. As you got up to go, you quickly realized that it wasn’t actually that. It was… different. You felt something trickle down your leg and looked down. It slowly but surely gathered into a big puddle on the floor. You finally realized what it was.

“H.E.R.B.I.E! My water just broke!”

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“’New father’ jitters?”

Johnny whipped his head around to the Professor, wondering how the man knew before remembering that said man could read minds.

The Fantastic Four didn’t know what to expect when they finally tracked down where specifically the suspicious activity was taking place. They didn’t expect to be led to a mansion practically in the middle of nowhere. They also didn’t expect there to be a number of kids playing outside and displaying unique abilities like flight, superstrength, superspeed, and weather-control, to name a few. They also didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms by one Professor Charles Xavier, who sat right outside the front door in his wheelchair and stated that he knew that they were coming. The team was so confused until Professor Xavier, or “Professor X” as they overheard some of the kids calling him, showed them inside, sat them down, and explained things.

Professor X was a mutant, a person born with extraordinary abilities, his being telepathy and telekinesis. The mansion was owned by him and intended to be a school for young mutants where they would receive not only a standard education, but also training in how to control their powers. Since most of the students were initially persecuted for their mutations, the Professor also wanted the mansion to be seen as a loving home so that they could grow up to be confident and proud of themselves.

Each of the Fantastic Four were amazed in different ways. Reed was impressed with Professor X’s great intelligence. Sue deeply empathized with his cause and even offered the help of the Future Foundation. Ben found himself being dragged back outside by some kids who thought he was cool-looking and wanted to see how strong he was, which he happily obliged. Johnny, meanwhile, just stared out the window and took in the sight of them all. He began to wonder for the millionth time if his own kid would grow up to be one of them, whether they would be proud of their potential powers or scared, if they would be embraced by society or rejected.

That’s when the Professor pulled him back to reality. Johnny looked to Reed and Sue, who offered sympathetic smiles.

“Um… yes, actually,” Johnny answered. “My wife is pregnant with our first child. A girl.”

“Congratulations,” Professor X said. “It’s hard work, but well worth it.”

“Speaking from any past experience?”

The Professor shook his head. “No, but I have come to consider the students as my children.”

“You seem to be doing a fine job with them, Professor,” Sue observed.

“Thank you. And I have no doubt your brother will be the same.”

“Speaking from any future experience?” Johnny probed, which made the Professor chuckle.

Suddenly, a noise went off. Johnny could feel a vibration coming from his hand and looked down. It was coming from his watch. It was transmitting a single phrase – “FLAME ON.”

Johnny’s eyes widened. He knew what that meant. He had been preparing for this moment for nine months.

It was time for you to have the baby.

Johnny rushed out of the room, through the halls, and out the door. Instead of going straight to the car, though, he found himself firing up and flying high. He was so hyped and determined to get to you, he was sure he could go the distance.

Reed and Sue looked at each other in surprise, having received the same signal. “We’re terribly sorry, Professor Xavier,” Reed said as he got up, “but we must be going. It looks like it’s finally time for Johnny to become a father.”

“Oh, yes! Please!” the Professor insisted. He led the couple outside as fast as he could.

Even Ben got the signal and was trying to calm the kids down, all of whom were disappointed that the fun had to come to an end. “I’m sorry, you guys! I have to go! I’m about to be an uncle!”

“You’ve got to come back!” one of them begged.

“Oh, this won’t be the last we see of them,” Professor X stated. “I’m sure of it.” He gave a wink to Reed and Sue, both of whom quickly shook his hand.

“We’ll definitely be in touch,” Reed assured him.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Sue said.

“You’re welcome. And thank you for your generosity. May your brother’s child be blessed.”

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In between you trying to breathe deeply to alleviate the contractions and worrying about whether or not Johnny and the others would make it back in time, you thanked God and Reed for the new family car.

It was spacious, could drive itself, had a phone attached so you could call Dr. Stratten, had a suitcase packed in the back with all sorts of essentials for after the baby was born (although you were certain that was more Sue’s doing), and included navigation and sensors to provide the best possible route to the hospital and not crash into any cars as it sped by. So far, it was doing a fine job, although there were a few times you closed your eyes out of fear that it was going to run into something like a fire hydrant or a person crossing the street.

About twenty minutes later, you arrived at the hospital intact. Once you got out and collected your things, you sent the car away to park itself in the nearby lot. You then waddled inside and let a nurse know about your condition. You were subsequently put into a wheelchair to be led up to the delivery room. As you laid back on the table in a traditional hospital gown, you tried your best to hold yourself together until you were sure Johnny was there.

“Come on, little one,” you whispered, hoping your baby could hear or sense you. “Please wait just a little bit longer. Your daddy isn’t here yet and he really wants to be here for you.”

Dr. Stratten eventually came in, all scrubbed in and ready to help you. “Hello, my dear,” he said, warmly. “Are you ready?”

“Is Johnny here?” you asked hurriedly.

Dr. Stratten looked around nervously. “Well, no. I didn’t see him.”

You slowly began to panic. “No, no, no! I want him here! I need him here! Dr. Stratten, I can’t have this baby without Johnny!”

“Now, dear,” Dr. Stratten came over to you and gently patted your shoulder, “you mustn’t get upset. You’re going to need all your energy to deliver your beautiful baby.”

You threw your head back in frustration and felt a few hot tears slide down your cheeks. You made one more desperate plea in the hope that your husband could hear and sense you this time. “Please… Please, Johnny… Come and see your daughter.”

Miraculously on cue like a scene out of a movie, you saw Johnny’s head poke through the door window. He was sweating hard and waving his arms frantically to get anyone’s attention, specifically yours.

“JOHNNY!” you yelled. One of the nurses quickly opened the door to let him in. He raced to your side and pulled you in for as tight a hug as he could manage. You could hear and feel him breathing heavily above you. You found the strength to push him away to look at him. He looked tired and desperate yet at the same time energetic and optimistic.

“Hey,” was all he could say.

“Hey,” you echoed.

“You look beautiful.”

“You look like a wreck.”

He let out a breathy laugh as he fully took in his state. “Yeah, I know. I flew all the way here from Westchester County. Probably the fastest I’ve ever done. I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“You didn’t. I wouldn’t let you. And I don’t think your daughter would either.”

Johnny looked down at your stomach. “I’m here now, kiddo. Now it’s time for you to get here.”

She must’ve heard you all now because you felt a sharp pain and closed your eyes. The instinct to push was great. “Oooooo!” you exclaimed, trying to remember your breathing exercises while also saying one last thing to Johnny. “Johnny, I love you so much!”

“I love you too, honey,” Johnny cooed, getting a firm grip on your hand. You squeezed it hard as you continued your attempts to push.

“Okay, folks!” Dr. Stratten said, rubbing his hands together and getting into position. “Let’s do this!”

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Reed and Sue waited patiently in the hospital lobby. It had been a few hours since you went into labor and it was getting dark outside. As they sat in the rather uncomfortable chairs, they held hands and tried to think positive thoughts.

“Everything is alright,” Reed said like it was any other fact he knew.

Sue nodded and repeated, “Everything is alright.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be much better with this!”

The couple looked up to see Ben carrying a bunch of balloons that he bought from the gift shop. They were in pink, white, and gold colors and said various things like “It’s a Girl!” and “Congratulations!” Reed and Sue smiled at the kind gesture. It brightened things up, if only for a little bit.

Things truly got better when they saw Dr. Stratten come out. “The baby has arrived, healthy and happy,” he said with a big smile.

The trio let out a collective sigh of relief at the news. Sue asked, “Can we see them now?”

“Of course!” Dr. Stratten was already moving ahead to lead everyone to your room.

When they arrived, they had quite a sight in front of them – You were in bed, holding your newborn baby girl in a wrapped, pink blanket. Johnny sat right beside you, delicately playing with his daughter’s little fingers. And the baby looked up at her parents in total awe. A few tears were shed as Reed, Sue, and Ben walked in. You and Johnny looked up and beamed like the proud parents you were.

“Look, Clara,” you whispered. “Your aunt and uncles are here.”

“Clara,” Sue tested the name on her lips.

“Yup,” Johnny said with joy. “Clara Jean Storm.”

“A pretty name for a pretty girl,” Ben commented.

“She surpasses all of my predictions,” Reed said.

Clara’s face brightened up at the compliments, which made everybody laugh.

“May we…?” Sue gestured towards you both.

“Of course,” you agreed.

Ben set the ballons down and went to your side as Reed and Sue went next to Johnny. They all leaned in for a big group hug. Little Clara closed her eyes, taking in all the love.

The Fantastic Four family just got bigger, and you, Johnny, everyone couldn’t have been happier.

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Author’s Note 2: Electric Boogaloo: Thank you so much for making it to the end! I ask that you NOT post this story as your own, please. Instead, give it a like/review/bookmark/reblog/all of the above wherever you read it.

Archive of Our Own

#marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #the fantastic four #the fantastic four first steps #fantastic four fanfiction #johnny storm #joseph quinn #x reader #fanfiction #fluff #johnny storm fanfiction #johnny storm x reader

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