#I don't feel like tagging all of them but this is the squad during that brief period when Mac was there but Fitz hadn't left yet

[a-loose-collection-of-ants]

I'm finally free from exams so uhhhhhhhhhhhh here's another sketch dump

We have fun here

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hi. Can you write something spicy with Wrecker x f! reader with the prompt 62. “Is that my shirt?” Maybe reader needs new clothes during a mission and she forgets her spares on Kamino, leading her to wear Wrecker's. She takes advantage of the situation to tease him a little, but we know Wrecker is a little innocent, until Crosshair opens his eyes.. "If you don't fu** her, I will." 😂

Hi,

Thank you so much for this request, I absolutely loved writing it!

What's Mine is Yours

While working on a mission on Corellia, a clothing mishap leads to much more than you anticipated.

Pairing: Wrecker x F!reader

Word count: 4.2k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Warnings: accidental clothes sharing, reader described as busty, lewd comment as motivation (one guess who it comes from…), confession of feelings, idiots in love, first kiss, oral (f!receiving), face sitting, fingering, semi-clothed sex, unprotected PiV, squint for size and strength kink.

“Where the hell is it?” You huff, hands scrambling through your backpack as you pull out your belongings, scattering them across the dresser in the dingy hotel room.

You and the boys had been sent to Bela Vistal, a small mountain city on Corellia. The Jedi had caught wind of a shady auction, with whispers of a Holocron up for grabs. It was your job as a squad to scope the place out, gather as much intel as possible, and strike and extract the Holocron if the opportunity presented itself.

By now, you’re used to working with limited information. As a civilian handler, it was your job to fill in the blanks and help the boys with anything they needed to successfully complete their missions – something you’d spent over a year doing remarkably well at. Today that had included wandering around the city with Tech, pretending to be together – out of them all, his appearance was less likely to arouse suspicion. You’d conversed politely with market vendors and cantina owners, asking subtle questions to discover more about the auction.

Ultimately, it had been a fruitless endeavour, and the pair of you had returned to the hotel as the sun had been setting, food in hand. You’d excused yourself after eating, slipping back into your room via the door connecting the two rooms you’d rented for a quick shower.

And now here you were, furiously rifling through your belongings for a clean shirt. You’d packed one; you swore you had. Fingers finding soft fabric, you let out a small noise of triumph, prying the material from your backpack. Towel falling to the floor, you shimmed on a clean pair of panties and some sleep shorts before dragging on the top. Only once it was over your head did you realise something was off. Either you’d suddenly lost a lot of weight or…

Scrambling for the neckline, you twist and turn until you can see the tag and the large ‘W’ sewn into it. “Dank farrik.” You mutter, teeth sinking into your lower lip at the realisation that you’d somehow packed Wrecker’s shirt instead of your own.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at yourself in the mirror on the back of the fresher door. The oversized garment hit mid-thigh, the sleeves extending far beyond your hands. The only saving grace was that your boobs took up enough room that it gave the shirt a little bit of shape. You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

The thought of going out into the field wearing Wrecker’s clothing was hilarious, but your laughter soon subsided as you really looked at yourself. Oversized it might be, but it almost…suited you. And though it was clean, you lifted the collar to your nose and inhaled, picking up on a sweet scent that seemed to linger on all of Wrecker’s belongings.

You’d found great comfort in that scent over the last few months, drawn towards Wrecker and his infectious grin. Lips tugging into a smile, a tender warmth spread through you as you thought about the countless times Wrecker had been there to lighten the mood with his quips and laughter and how his protective nature made you feel secure amid the uncertainties of life.

The realisation of what your feelings meant hit you like a wave, and as you stood there, a myriad of emotions swirled within you. The laughter that had filled the room moments ago was replaced by a soft, introspective silence. As you continued to gaze at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the depth of your connection with Wrecker. It went beyond the professional companionship forged across dangerous missions. It was something more personal, something that had quietly grown amidst the chaos of your work.

“Oh, kriff…” You whisper, staring at your own wide-eyed reflection. The sound of a knock on the connecting door interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you turn towards it, momentarily forgetting about the shirt you were wearing. Smoothing down the fabric, you move across to open the door, revealing Hunter.

“Thought you might’ve drowned.” He quips as the door opens; your showers never usually take so long. Gaze dropping down, Hunter takes in the sight of you, chuckling. “Well, looks like you’re drowning, alright.”

“I must’ve grabbed the wrong shirt in our hurry to leave Kamino.” You admit sheepishly, feeling warmth in your cheeks as Hunter steps aside, revealing you to his brothers.

To his credit, Tech offers you a reassuring smile while Crosshair snorts in amusement. But it’s Wrecker’s reaction that catches you off guard the most.

Wrecker’s eyes widen as his gaze rakes down your body. “I-Is that my shirt?” He asks, swallowing thickly. Heat creeps across his cheeks as he admires you, the curves of your body making it look entirely different than it did on him. He can feel the heavy thud of his heart, and for a moment, the room is filled with an almost tangible tension. Wrecker stands frozen, his eyes locked onto you.

“Yeah, I, uh, must’ve grabbed it by mistake.” You stammer, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze.

Wrecker blinks, tearing his eyes away from you to glance at Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair. Hunter raises an eyebrow, clearly finding the situation entertaining but not commenting further. Tech adjusts his goggles, a knowing glint in his eyes, while Crosshair smirks, thoroughly amused. Clearing his throat, Wrecker manages to break the silence. “Well, it looks... good on ya.”

The sincerity in his voice surprises you, and you catch a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. You give a nervous laugh, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Thanks, Wreck. I’ll wash it and get it back to you.”

“Nah, keep it.” He says quickly, almost too quickly. “Looks better on you anyway.”

The room falls into another awkward silence as Wrecker scratches the back of his head, unsure how to navigate the sudden shift in the atmosphere. It’s rare to see the big, boisterous man at a loss for words.

Hunter, always the pragmatist, breaks the tension. “Alright, enough of the fashion show. We’ve got a mission to focus on.”

The seriousness of the mission looms over the room, momentarily overshadowing the awkwardness. You gather around the table, holomaps of the city and your datapads spread out as you discuss the action plan.

As the discussion progresses, Wrecker finds his eyes straying to you often, trying to commit the vision of you in his clothes to memory, the way it drapes over your frame and the subtle scent of your shampoo that he knows will linger on the garment now too.

The realisation hits him like a ton of bricks – the feelings he’s been trying to suppress, the concern that goes beyond the missions, the warmth he feels when you’re around – it’s all there, staring him in the face.

Wrecker clears his throat again, attempting to focus on the plan you’re all hashing out, not the crazy beating of his heart. He chimes in enthusiastically, but his mind keeps drifting back to you. As the planning continues, Wrecker catches the knowing look Tech throws him. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to concentrate. He wonders if you feel the same, if the newfound awareness is mutual.

Finally, the planning ends, and with your usual round of goodnights, you’re back in your room, the connecting door firmly shut. Only once you’re gone does Wrecker feel like he can breathe again.

“Real subtle there, big guy,” Hunter comments, giving Wrecker’s shoulder a pat as he passes him.

“What?” Wrecker questions, playing dumb. He’s not quite ready to admit his feelings to his brothers; he’s just starting to come to terms with the recent revelation.

None of them are fooled. Tech reaches up, adjusting his goggles. “You were admiring her quite intently.” He points out.

“I would, too, if she were wearing my shirt.” Crosshair chimes in, leaning back on the small couch in the room, propping his feet up on the table as he feels Wrecker’s eyes narrow in his direction. “But hey, if you won’t kriff her, I will.” He comments, unafraid to poke the bear.

In sync, Hunter and Tech facepalm.

A flash of anger courses through Wrecker. “You wouldn’t.” He growls, hating the very idea. 

“Wouldn’t I?” Crosshair goads. “She’s a pretty little thing. Bet she’d looked even prettier underne-“

“Hey!” Wrecker’s sharp shout cuts him off. “You don’t talk about her like that. She deserves better, and I won’t let ya disrespect her. Not when she’s the best thing to happen to us in a long while and always lookin’ out for us.”

Amusement curls at Crosshair’s lips. Truth told, forcing those words out had been horrible – he respected you too much – but it had given him the ammunition he needed to make his point. “Hm, sounds like you might have some feelings there, Wrecker.”

Realising he’s been caught in one of his younger brother’s traps, Wrecker groans in frustration, shooting Crosshair a glare that bounces straight off him. With a sigh, Wrecker’s shoulders sag, and he glances over his shoulder towards the connecting door to your room.

Worry curls through him. He did have feelings for you, that much he’d realised, but he wasn’t sure how you felt. The thought of making things awkward or disrupting the dynamics of the squad by introducing personal feelings weighed heavily on Wrecker’s mind.

Hunter picks up on his brother’s internal struggle. “Wrecker, if you’ve got something to say to her, just say it. We’re all adults here. We’ve faced worse than admitting feelings.”

Wrecker sighs. “I just don’t wanna mess things up, y’know? What if she don’t feel the same way, and it makes things weird?”

Tech chips in with his usual logical perspective. “Statistically speaking, relationships formed within a close-knit team can enhance cooperation and overall performance. Emotional bonds can be beneficial.”

Wrecker shoots Tech an incredulous look. “You suggestin’ I tell her I like her ’cause it’s statistically beneficial?”

Tech pushes his goggles back up his nose. “I am merely presenting a logical argument in favour of expressing one’s emotions.”

A noise of frustration slides from Crosshair’s lips, and he pushes himself off the couch. Grabbing Wrecker by the arm, he drags him over to the connecting door, banging his fist against it a few times. “She was eyeing you up, too. Don’t overthink. That’s Tech’s job.” He insists, returning to the couch, shaking his head while muttering about Wrecker’s lack of game.

Hearing you say the door was unlocked, Wrecker takes a deep breath before pushing it open, sliding into your room, letting it click shut behind him.

With Wrecker gone, Hunter, Tech, and Crosshair exchange glances before arranging themselves on the couch to play Sabacc. “You swapped her shirt out of her pack,” Hunter comments as Tech deals the deck, his eyes darting over to Crosshair.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Crosshair doesn’t bother answering; instead, he picks up his cards. Hunter couldn’t prove anything.

Looking up from the dresser, where you’d been trying to organise your belongings back into your backpack, you smile at the sight of Wrecker standing with his back pressed to the door. “Hey, Wreck. Everything okay?” You ask, abandoning your repacking to give the gentle giant your full attention.

Wrecker’s heart pounds in his chest as he steps further into your room, the weight of the revelation he’d shared with his brothers settling in his chest. He grapples with the best way to express his feelings to you, scratching the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine.” He mumbles, avoiding direct eye contact for a moment. “I, um, just wanted to talk to ya about somethin’.”

You tilt your head curiously, a small smile playing on your lips. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Wrecker took another deep breath, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Well, it’s about... us. I mean, you and me. I’ve been feelin’ things, and I just gotta say it. I really like you. I like ya a lot.”

The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable, and your heartbeat quickens in response. Surprise paints your face, delight seeping into your veins that your feelings were returned – that he’d come here to share them with you.

“Wreck.” You begin, your voice soft. “I’ve... I’ve been feeling the same way. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Relief washes over Wrecker’s features, and a wide, genuine smile spreads across his face. “Really?” he asks as if confirming that he wasn’t dreaming.

You nod, your own smile mirroring his. “Really.”

Wrecker chuckles nervously. “Well, guess Crosshair wasn’t entirely wrong about us eyein’ each other up.”

Your jaw drops a little. You’d thought you were being subtle, but you should’ve known the man with super-human vision would catch you out.

Wrecker takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his large hands, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “I’m not great with words, but I really do care about ya.” He confesses.

“I care about you too, Wreck. And you don’t need to be great with words.” You reply, your eyes locked with his. “Actions speak louder.”

“Then let me show ya.” Wrecker murmurs, head dipping down to kiss your lips tenderly. Large hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. One of your hands finds home at the nape of his neck, keeping his lips against yours as the other settles on his upper arm.

You taste like heaven, like everything Wrecker has ever wanted and dreamed about. His grip on you tightens ever so slightly, but he’s cautious, not wanting to accidentally hurt you. The kiss breaks a moment later, eyes locked on one another as you pull apart, chests heaving. Desire swirls in your gaze, and Wrecker wants to worship you. But he’s conflicted – is this too soon? Do you want this too?

Palms smoothing across Wrecker’s body, you take his hands in your own, walking backwards the few steps to the bed. Sinking to sit on the edge of it, you guide Wrecker down with you, a thrill zinging through you as he wraps an arm around your middle and hauls you further up the bed before settling above you. With one hand supporting most of his weight, you marvel at how warm and broad he is, your body hidden under his as he presses against you, lips finding yours again for a searing kiss.

You’re so small beneath him, so delicate and so pretty, with your hair fanned across the sheets, your beautiful eyes looking up at him with such adoration. Wrecker can’t resist kissing you again, savouring your shared feelings. Tentatively, his hand roams to your thighs, large palm smoothing across soft skin, creeping up, ruching his shirt as his fingers skim under the edge of your sleep shorts.

The gentle touch makes your breath stutter, a low noise sliding from your lips, muffled by the kiss.

Wrecker pulls back, watching as your eyes flutter open. “Too much, babe?” He asks quietly, unsure whether the noise is good and not wanting to push too much.

Shaking your head, you lean up to pepper kisses across his jawline. “More. Please.” You ask, heat building in your belly.

Thrilled, Wrecker breaks out into a grin, shivering as your hands pry his shirt up and off his body. Your fingers fan over his bare chest, tracing every muscle and scar. His pants are next to be discarded, your sleep shorts joining them on the floor before your lips meet again in a needy kiss. Your panties go, followed by his boxers, but as you go to remove his shirt, Wrecker’s fingers still the action.

“Leave it on, babe.” He admits, a flush on his cheeks. There was something so intrinsically hot about you wearing his clothes.

A noise of delight leaves you, followed quickly by one of surprise as Wrecker rolls you both, placing himself beneath you. Straddling him, it’s impossible to ignore the press of his thick, hard cock. It feels enormous, and you’re almost afraid to look down.

Thankfully, you’re spared as Wrecker grabs your ass, huge hands dwarfing it as he hauls you up his body.

Wrecker groans, hands squeezing as he draws you further up. “Want you to sit on my face, babe. Lemme eat that pretty pussy before I kriff ya.”

Heat strikes through you, pussy clenching around nothing at Wrecker’s request. “I-I don’t wanna suffocate you.” You worry as you’re lifted over his face, knees on either side of his head. Warmth blossoms across your cheeks as he stares right at your cunt.

“Ya won’t. And even if you do, what a way to go.” Wrecker growls, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he gazes up at your pussy. Gently, he encourages you down, groaning in satisfaction as you rest lightly against his face – nose and mouth brushing against your slick folds. “That ain’t sittin’.” He grumbles as he notices you trying to hold up some of your weight. Using a little more of his strength, he pulls you down until you’re firmly against his face, his nose pressed to your clit as his tongue laves over your entrance.

“Oh, hells…” You cry out, holding onto the headboard with one hand while the other lands on Wrecker’s head. That first lick of his tongue had felt incredible.

Wrecker feasts, your pussy his new favourite meal. The taste of you fills his mouth, and he moans, dragging his nose across your clit, tongue sloppy as he laves at you before pointing it and pressing it into your hole. He takes a breath whenever he can, drawing the flat of his tongue up through your folds to flick across your clit, lips latching around the sensitive bud so he can suck on it, brushing his tongue over it at the same time.

White hot pleasure is all you can feel, hips rocking as you ride his face, chasing your high. Your hand strokes across his head, fingers gliding over scarred skin. “Kriff, Wreck. Yes. Just like that.” You encourage, pleasure building quickly.

The stretch catches you off guard, two of his thick fingers pressing into you, crooking, as his mouth focuses on your clit. Head thrown back, his name falls from your lips as you come, thighs shaking and pussy spasming around his fingers as the pleasure rolls through your body.

Working you through the high, Wrecker gently pries his mouth off your clit, fingers slowly scissoring as he stretches you out a little more now that you’re more relaxed. He knows he’s big, and the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

Your hips roll slowly, grinding lazily against his face once again as he continues working you open, another thick finger joining the two already buried inside you. Biting down on your lower lip to muffle your moan, the trembles from your orgasm subside.

Fingers slip from you, hands finding your hips. Lifted, you’re moved back down Wrecker’s body until he can kiss you, mouth and chin covered in your juices. You gasp at the taste, at the way his tongue presses into your mouth, and you lazily make out.

Slowly you draw apart; Wrecker’s fingers that weren’t buried in your pussy move to push your hair out of your face tenderly.

The throb between your thighs intensifies, and you lift your hips, shifting until you can grind down against Wrecker’s cock. The rumble in his chest does funny things to your inside, and you smile. “I wanna ride your cock, too.” You state sweetly, enjoying the delight that flares in Wrecker’s eyes.

Scooting back just a little so you rest on his thighs, you drag your gaze from his face to finally take in his cock. It’s much thicker than any you’ve seen before – in person and on the holonet – and longer than average.

He curves a little to the right, the tip flushed a deep red, a bead of pre-cum in the slit. Taking him in hand, his groan reverberates through the room, and you can’t help but dip down to lap at him, the tang on your tongue dragging a sound from you that Wrecker echoes.

Your fingers don’t touch around him, and for a moment, you worry you won’t be able to take him. Shuffling forward a tiny bit until you’re back in your previous position, you line him up with your entrance, pressing just the tip in, and slowly start to sink down, letting gravity do the work.

Wrecker’s pretty sure he’s shaking – from anticipation or barely-there control, he’s not sure. All he does know is that his hands are wrapped around your hips to help guide you but not force you down, and inch by agonising inch, his dick is slowly being enveloped in the heat of your pussy.

The stretch burns a little, even after an orgasm and three fingers working you open. Taking your time, you let out deep breaths as you sink down until you’re finally flush, feeling fuller than ever. 

“Stars above, Wreck.” You pant, holding his gaze as you adjust to the feeling. His jaw is clenched, soft brown eyes looking at you with such profound adoration, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. His hands on your hips slide upward, under the edge of his shirt, until he’s grasping at your waist.

Steadily, you give a small roll of your hips, rising ever so slightly before sinking back down. The action pulls a moan from you, Wrecker’s head tilting back against the bed, his groan mingling with your needy sounds. Finding a rhythm, you lean back a little, hands resting on his muscular thighs as warmth builds in your belly with every rise and fall. The burn of the stretch dissolves into pleasure.

Chin tilting down, Wrecker watches as you ride him, how your lips part with every little whimper and sigh, and your tits bounce beneath his shirt. The sight goes straight to his cock, hand sliding up from your waist until he can palm your breasts under the garment, fingers pressed against soft flesh. You’re a handful, even for him, and he grunts, thumb and forefinger tweaking your pebbled nipples.

The whine you let out is delicious, and his gaze roves down your body, settling on where the two of you are connected, watching how he slides in and out of your pussy. The sight, the sounds, and the feeling of you around him push him closer and closer to the edge. Fingers smoothing back down your body, they press against your clit, firm circles rubbed against the sensitive nub.

“Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.” You curse, eyes screwed shut as the warmth grows towards an inferno. Pitching forward, you change the angle, hands resting against his broad chest, providing better leverage as your pace quickens. Your thighs start to ache, but you’ll be damned if you let that stop you.

“That’s it, babe. Hells, your pussy feels so kriffin’ good.” Wrecker pants, his words helping push you over the edge. Your body goes taut above him, pleasure contorting your face as you clamp down around him, coming on his cock with a cry of his name. He keeps his fingers moving, working you through the high until the tremors in your body stop and your hazy eyes open to meet his.

You share a soft smile, and Wrecker surges up, lips meeting yours for a passionate kiss as he grasps back at your hips. Holding you in place, his hips snap quickly as he fucks up into you, chasing his high now you’ve been satisfied.

Tongues meeting, the kiss is frantic and messy, noises muffled by each other’s lips. You pull back just enough to gaze down at him. “Come in me. Please.” Your needy whine reverberates around the room.

You were perfect. So perfect. Your pleading words, the grip of your tight pussy around him… Wrecker’s thrusts falter, and with two more sharp snaps of his hips, he pushes himself deep inside you, growling out your name as he’s swept into pleasure, filling you.

The room falls silent except for your harsh breaths, gazes locked before you steal another kiss. Slower and softer, the lust dissolves into something sweeter. Strong arms wrap around you, and you’re rolled onto your side, pulled flush against Wrecker’s body as he pries his lips from yours. He smiles, and you can’t help but match it, a giggle bubbling up and out. The sound of Wrecker’s chuckle melds with yours, happiness simmering between you.

“You okay?” Wrecker asks, one hand smoothing across your cheek, cupping your face.

You lean into his touch with a small nod, eyes fluttering shut. Wrecker’s hand is warm against your face as he caresses you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek. The aftermath of shared intimacy leaves you feeling content and connected.

Overjoyed, Wrecker presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, hand sliding down your body to wrap back around you as he holds you close. Now he has you, he’s never going to let you go.

In the cocoon of his embrace, you slowly drift into a serene slumber, knowing you’ve found a sanctuary that feels like home in his arms.

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[callsigndragon]

Dawn

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman’ Seresin x Wife!reader

Word count: 1054

Warnings: pregnancy, labor... and all the fluffs.

Summary: A new member of the Seresin family.

A/N: this can be considered the second part of Sunshine or be read as a stand alone 🤍

FOREVER TGM TAGLIST: @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @shrimping-for-all @abaker74 @smells-like-perfect-senses @djs8891 @purplevortexx

(if you want to be tagged, leave a comment!)

When you were in your fourth month, Jake found out he was going to be a father. You were so occupied with work and worried about his well-being while he was deployed that you didn't notice that the missing periods, the nausea, the cravings, and all that were more than just a random succession of events. 

Telling him on a phone call was not ideal, but there was no other way of informing him that by the time he came back, you would be bigger than when he left. The line fell silent after the news was delivered, and you thought that he wasn't happy. Then you heard a distant "I am going to be a father" yelled from the top of his lungs, and you knew that he was not only happy but excited to see his baby.

Months went by at a slow pace. He hated not being there for you, but he assured you that once the baby was ready to be born, he'd be there. That was the only promise he made to you during the pregnancy. 

Now you're on your way to the hospital, holding hands with one of Jake's sisters after your water broke during lunch. Jake was on his way back to the States; the mission was over, and all the squad was coming back home for the holidays. It seemed like your baby was so excited to meet their father that they decided to come two weeks early, much to everyone's dismay. Jake was supposed to be home tomorrow, and you just wished your baby wasn't too eager to be born. 

Baby Seresin's labor is long. Apparently, contractions weren't strong enough for you to dilate 1 cm per hour, so it takes longer than any of you expect. Jake's sister, Jo, is there, offering you water and telling you how strong you were and how well you were doing it. And as much as you love her for helping you, you just want Jake at your side. 

Contractions get faster and stronger by the second, and you just want it to be over—to have your baby in your arms and hold them and see how much they look like Jake and how much they look like you.

"It's time to push, Mrs Seresin"

"But my husband isn't here." You whimper, not ready to do this without him.

"Mrs. Seresin, if we don't get this baby out right now, there can be consequences." 

"Y/n," Jo calls your name, moving your wet hair out of your forehead, "Jake will be here tomorrow, but we have to take care of this baby now, okay?" 

"But Jake-" 

"Jake's here," he says, entering the room while taking off his hat. "I'm here, sunshine. I'm here now." 

He kisses your forehead and your nose before looking at you. "H-how?"

"I got a feeling and asked to leave a day early. Cyclone owed me one," he says softly, caressing your cheek. "Now, Mama Seresin, we're gonna bring this baby home for Christmas, alright?" 

You nod, holding his hand in a strong grip while the nurses prepare you for the delivery. 

Thirty minutes later, Dawn Seresin is resting between your arms. Jake's on his knees next to the bed, observing his girls with the most proud look someone has ever had while looking at you. 

"When did you choose Dawn?" You ask him, moving your head in his direction, your free hand caressing his hair. 

"Well, you're my sunshine, the light of my life, and she's our first daughter, and Dawn means 'the first light before sunrise' so... It came to me one night but I didn't thought you'll like it" 

"Are you kidding? It's the cutest thing ever," you say, laughing and crying at the same time. 

"Too many emotions, mama," he jokes, kissing your hand. 

"Yes, too many," you agree, looking at your baby girl and smiling. She has Jake's nose. "Wanna hold her?" 

"I don't know how to," he whispers, a glimpse of fear in his voice. 

"Oh, come on, I've seen you with your niece and nephew; you're a natural!" 

You carefully move the small baby into his arms. Looking at the love of your life holding your baby in his arms, the softest smile in the world adorning his features, and tears welling up in his eyes, becomes the first core memory with your daughter. 

“Honey, you can sit down, you know” 

“What if I wake her? I can’t move an inch or she will wake up and she’ll cry, and then you won’t be able to rest.” He whisper-yells, already stressed. 

You cover your mouth to stop laughing, but it’s just so funny seeing the confident aviator with two confirmed air-to-air kills being completely overwhelmed by his own daughter. “You know she’s gonna cry for the next… 18 years of your life, right? When she’s hungry, sick, or sleepy... When she’s bored, when she’s sad. When a boy rejects her…” 

He looks at you with wide eyes. “I haven’t even processed that I’m a dad yet. Please don’t talk about B-O-Y-S, she won’t date until she’s 30” 

“Maybe she’ll like girls. What if she brings a girl home who you think is a friend but who’s actually her girlfriend?” 

“Now you’re just trying to kill me” 

"I'm just saying, you never know," you shrug as you adjust the blankets around your body. 

“Sunshine, you’re enjoying this a bit too much, don’t you think?” 

“Jake, I kept her safe for almost nine months, and now it is your turn to start worrying about her."

Jake sighs, sitting down in the rocking chair next to the bed. “I’m gonna get wrinkles all over my pretty face.” 

“You’ll still be the hottest dad around,” you state, making him wink at you. “Babe” 

“Yes?” 

“What would you have called the baby if it was a boy?” 

He smiles, tracing Dawn’s nose with his finger. “Meyer” 

“Meyer?” 

“It means ‘bringer of light’ in Hebrew,” he admits, his ears turning red in embarrassment. 

“Good name for the second child” 

“Already thinking about the second one?” he laughs. 

“It will happen eventually” 

Jake nods, looking at his daughter and thinking how beautiful and perfect Dawn is, and how excited he is to bring little Meyer into this world. Hopefully, he will have your nose. 

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Fic rec for my BFF, pt. 1

My best friend is currently watching 9-1-1. I've been trying to get her onboard the Buddie ship and she is graciously tolerating me. She's asked for some fic recs and so this is what I came up with! I did have to work with a few parameters to fit her taste, the most important one being nothing post season 3 cause that's where she's up to and she didn't want spoilers.

Hope you enjoy these bestie!

Canon to Canon Divergent

Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars 

Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 123/? | 379K | Mature

This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

THE canon fics to end all canon fics. I know it's still a WIP and it spans up to post-S6, but if you want a canon fic, that's the one to go for.

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels 

Canon Divergent, Different First Meeting, Stripper Buck | 84K | Explicit

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico." And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

One of my most re-read fics. The smut is impeccable. The angst is so good. Absolutely love this fic!

Your Scars and Your Lonely Heart by Taste_is_Sweet

Sentinels AU, Canon Divergent - Tsunami | 82K | Teen

Clara Williams just wanted to visit Pacific Park during her layover in Los Angeles. She never expected to find a young, exceptional Sentinel dying for lack of a bond. Actually, what she really never expected was a tsunami, or the same Sentinel to save her life. But Clara's a Guide, so now she's on a mission to keep Evan "Buck" Buckley alive until she can get him to Eddie Diaz, the Guide who should have bonded with him, but didn't. Because Clara can't bond with Buck, no matter how much she wants to. There's just one problem: Buck's convinced Eddie doesn't want him, and he might not survive long enough to find out the truth.

Another one of my most re-read fics! I had never read a Sentinels AU before and I fell in love with the concept!

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies 

Didn't Know They Were Dating, Post-S3 | 27K | General

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.” Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him. “That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him. - or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Don't know if you knew this, Marie, but Buddie is the #1 most tagged ship in the "Didn't Know They Were Dating" tag cause they're such idiots <3 and this is one of my favorite ones!

the weekly bet (but the forever kind) by theleftboobgrabber/ @theleftboobgrabber 

Late S3, Getting Together | 49K | Explicit

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, hiding his face deep in his pillow, even if Buck can’t see him in the dark. “What for?” Leave it to Buck to be confused about something so obvious. “Being you, idiot.” “And again with the name calling,” he answers, content and sleepy. Nights like this, Eddie feels like asking for a miracle. But to the team, it wasn’t a matter of if Abby would take him back, but when. A matter of days. When the squad bets on how long it will take for Buck and Abby to get back together when she comes back to LA, Eddie is forced to reconsider keeping his feelings for Buck a secret.

Top tier pining + oblivious Eddie = 👌

Always, All Ways by ashavahishta/ @tevankinkley

A/B/O AU | 85K | Explicit

“Buck is very dear, Mr Diaz. Not only to me but to the pack. You’ll find that if you treat him with anything less than utmost respect you’ll have a lot of people to answer to.”   Eddie swallowed. It was clear that in the absence of a mate, this omega had found himself a very protective pack. “Understood, sir.” Or: Buck’s the only omega in the 118. He’s got secrets, and walls a mile high. Eddie’s the alpha determined to knock them down.

There's not a ton of A/B/O fics in this fandom, and I should really try to read more of them, but this is probably my favorite one so far!

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by extasiswings/@extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

S3, Friends With Benefits, BDSM | 68K | Explicit

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea. Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right? There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

THE friends with benefits fic! (ok lbr there's a ton of great ones, but this one is S2 focused iirc)

AUs

My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Mythological AU, BDSM | 80K | Explicit

When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies.

You can expect amazing smut by this author as always, but also really interesting worldbuilding and characters!

All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Vampires AU | 107K | Explicit

Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

SO GOOD. The canon divergent reincarnation vampire AU you didn't know you needed!!!

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by rarakiplin (gmontys)/ @hoediaz 

Actors AU, Friends With Benefits | 130K | Mature

One day, Buck will tell an interviewer that he would be happy to make movies with Eddie Diaz until the day he dies. But first, years before that, he sees Eddie for the first time on the set of Chimney’s fifth movie.

An epic tale of movie making and enemies to friends to FWB to strangers to lovers!

The Truth of Love (Amas Veritas) by allyasavedtheday/ @littlespoonevan

Practical Magic AU | 20K | Teen

Bobby opens his mouth like he wants to argue but decides against it. “Walk me through the logic here then. How will this make sure you never fall in love?” “Because I’m making someone who doesn’t exist,” Buck explains, glancing from the half-full bowl to Bobby. He can’t work out what the look on Bobby’s face means so he pointedly elects to ignore it. “They’ll have brown hair,” he starts, clipping another petal from the rose bush. “And brown eyes-“ “Lotta people out there with brown hair and brown eyes, kid,” Bobby says lightly and Buck rolls his eyes. “But not many that can ride a horse backwards,” Buck counters. “And whose favourite shape is a star and who’s got…two scars,” he decides, plucking a basil leaf and dropping it in the bowl. “One on each shoulder.”

Because Practical Magic AUs always make me think of you <3

I'll Scrawl it on Every Wall I See by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Canon Divergent, You've Got Mail Fusion | 29K | Teen

When Eddie joins the 118, he and Buck don't exactly hit it off on the right foot. Or continue to walk on the right foot. In fact they kind of can't stand each other. Good thing they each have a beloved anonymous pen pal to share their daily woes with, someone completely unlike their insufferable coworker.

I do love some good romcom vibes!

[joycew-art]

I decided to make some character profiles for these guys to explain some characteristics and backstory. I've also decided to tag all of this as #rickcest poly au The text version of their profiles are under the Keep Reading

Miami Rick

Miami Rick became Morty's primary caretaker after a car accident killed the rest of the family. Morty was 2 years old when it happened.

Before he took care of Morty he was in contact with Beth, but he didn't live with the Smiths. Morty moved in with him in Miami after the accident.

Is extremely rich. Probably because of mafia-like activities. He also owns a lot of nightclubs, because he likes to party.

Officially Miami Rick is part of the Citadel, but he doesn't actually abide to their rules and doesn't live there either. He puts a lot funds in the city and he can pull that away for leverage, so the Council basically gives him free reign.

Comes and goes as he pleases in the Citadel cause Miami is a well-known Rick-fucker. He flirts with every Rick he meets and sleeps with them if he has their consent. They are always one night stands.

That is until he meets Cop Rick and he catches feelings.

Has a drug addiction instead of an alcohol addiction. He can smoke stuff that would kill a regular person.

Because of his knowledge of all kinds of drugs, he often uses them in battle.

Tuft Rick

Has Trauma™ (the anxiety has to come from somewhere)

He didn't marry his Diane, so he doesn't have an original Morty.

Got kidnapped in his twenties by a powerful alien after accidentally making contact while he was figuring out portal travel.

He was stuck in an abusive relationship with that alien, until he was rescued many decades later by Ricks from the Citadel.

Has been on the Citadel for about a decade as a guard and gets along well with his squad mates and Captain.

His squad mates are very protective of him, and vice versa. He's done a lot of physical training to protect himself and his friends. His favorite weapon is a pole arm, but he's skilled with many kinds of weaponry.

Got more trauma and fear as one of his squad mates and Captain got killed by Doofus Jerry. (Comic issues 22 & 23)

After that incident Tuft and his leftover squad mates planned to leave the Citadel. However they were found out and Tuft stayed behind to let his friends escape.

As punishment he isn't part of a squad anymore and is forced to take on jobs that other Ricks don't like or find too dangerous.

Cop Rick

Cop lost his original Morty in a past adventure. He doesn't like to talk about it.

The guilt made him flee to the Citadel. He never contacted his family about what happened.

Over there he wanted to become a cop so he could deliver justice to the Citadel, especially for Mortys.

Cop started to focus a lot on cold cases after killing his Morty partner. (s3 e7) A lot of Ricks are not interested in solving Morty murders or are blackmailed to ignore them.

After solving many of those cold cases Cop got put on a new investigation involving Morty murders. He met Miami during this case, cause one of the victims were found in one of his nightclubs. They ended up solving the investigation together.

During that case Cop started to get some feelings for Miami, but the guilt makes it hard to accept them, especially since Miami gets along with his Morty very well.

Can't get up in the morning without a cup of coffee.

He's made fun of by his colleagues for being kind and naive. But they are also jealous of his dedication and ability in solving the cold cases.

[neon-junkie]

In the Heat of the Moment - Chpt.8

Summary: “Less than ten percent of domesticated species go into heats,” accord to Tech and his research, and (un)fortunately, you’re one of that ten percent. What else are you meant to do? Trapped during a heat cycle with five men - five willing men who are happy to help relieve you, but not all have the confidence to say so.

Relationship: The Bad Batch x fem!Reader (she/her)

Tags: Heats, Mating, Sex pollen, Friends with benefits, Friends to lovers, Slow burn, Sex, Jealousy, Pining, Tags to be added.

Word count: 1.2k

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 9]

Chapter 8 - Scorching

"So, you… haven't been taking them?"

Hunter's voice throws you off guard, causing you to drop your tool with a clank!

Is there really any need to discuss this right now? The repairs are almost complete, and you can all finally leave this forsaken planet with its two cursed suns! However, your Sergeant, the one that has been avoiding you for weeks, now feels the need to address the Bantha in the room… or in this case, the desert.

You turn to look at him, barely a meter from you; his eyes flicker between his work, and your dazed expression. "You mean the supplements?" you question.

"Yeah," Hunter confirms with a light shrug of his shoulders.

"Nah, I haven't," you shrug back, and pick up your tool, returning to your work. It's not really his business, is it? There's no need to be nosey about such a thing.

A moment of silence becomes present, the sound of tools tinkering away fills up the void, yet you can feel the pulse of adrenaline rushing through your veins. You're getting defensive, and for good reasons.

"Why not?" Hunter finally quirks up, not bothering to look your way. It seems he isn't letting this go, is he?

"Didn't want to," you simply reply, matching his monotone demeanour. It doesn't take a Jedi to pick up on Hunter's sarkiness. Why he's bothered is beyond you, but if he can freely ask, then so can you! "Is that a problem?" you follow up.

"It has been, yes," Hunter confirms, finally looking your way as he continues working. "I won't deny that I find your… scent rather distracting, especially during missions."

"We're always on missions," you point out. Even if you aren't physically in action, you're either heading to your next target, or unwinding from the last one. Better yet, you're making amends from your previous one, and they can't come fast enough.

"Exactly. How am I meant to work with… that?" Hunter dares to comment. Now, work is no longer your priority. The tool in your hand becomes motionless as all of your attention turns to your Sergeant, whose defensive expression matches your own.

"I'm sorry that my biological needs are such a distraction to you," you snap. "Maybe if you followed your training better, then you'd be able to ignore my scent."

"And maybe if you'd taken the supplements like I originally asked, then I wouldn't have to put up with your scent, nor the sounds of you kriffing all of my squad!"

The nerve! The audacity!

The tool in your hand hits the sand with a soft thud, and you rest your hands on your hips, chest puffed out. It's just a smell, something that Hunter can easily ignore, but it seems his true intentions are coming to light. "I haven't slept with all of your brothers," you say with a mindless shrug, not that it's any of his business. Jealously really isn't a good look for him.

"Most of them," Hunter barks back.

"It's not my fault that they offered to help me out. I'd rather do that, then pop some mystery pills that you shoved into my hand! I don't even know where you purchased them from!"

Hunter's lips purse in annoyance as he takes a step closer towards you, attempting to one-up your stance. The sweat above his brow is clearly visible, possibly from frustration, or the blazing Tatooine heat. It doesn't help that he's chosen to work shirtless, his toned chest almost pushed into your face as he looks down at you, tanned and covered in a soft trail of hair. There is no need for him to be this close, and the more that he gets into your face, the more irate you become.

Hunter goes to open his mouth, but you beat him to it. "Get your boobs out of my face," you say as you swat his chest, taking a step back away from him. "If you want to help me out, then this isn't the way to approach it."

"I…" Hunter sputters, crossing his arms across his chest in some lousy attempt to cover up. "This isn't what I'm trying to do-"

"-Then what is it?" you interrupt him again. "Because it's pretty obvious that you want to 'help me out', rather than giving me those supplements," you shout, using your fingers to flex quotation marks. This is probably some elaborate scheme just to sleep with you, although you weren't expecting Hunter of all people to stoop that low.

Hunter's lips fall silent as his eyes refuse to meet yours. His furrowed brows fail to relax, as does his jaw, clenched firmly as his patience continues to run thin. He sucks in a deep breath whilst pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Seconds pass, and you're waiting for him to burst, but when he finally speaks, he's as calm as ever.

"Finish up. The ship should be ready to depart."

And with that, Hunter leaves you to it, entering the Marauder. You can overhear him talking to Tech, muttering something about getting the engine running.

Now, it's your turn to suck in a deep breath, and attempt to steady your thumping heart. You've never argued with any of your boys, much less your Sergeant. A light squabble here and there, but never full-on arguing.

You almost feel… guilty, although you had every right to defend yourself! No matter.

As your eyes open, you're greeted by someone who is only going to fuel your fire. Crosshair is leaning against the Marauder's entranceway, arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin on his lips. He chuckles as you scowl at him.

"Not going to give Sarge a chance?"

"Kriff off."

Crosshair chuckles once more, and watches as you pick up your discarded tool, using it to secure the Ship's side panel into place. He allows you to finish before speaking up, instantly turning your concentrated expression sour.

"You know, hate sex is awfully pleasant," Crosshair states. Whether he's hinting at himself, or Hunter, is beyond you. Probably both, knowing Crosshair.

All you can do is barge past him, your shoulders clashing with force. "What's with you?" you scowl, meeting his gaze for a brief moment.

"I'm only pushing your buttons, Princess," Crosshair shrugs as he allows you to pass, keeping his stance despite wobbling from your aggressive gesture.

Not wanting to allow yourself to become even more angry, you don't bother responding, and instead head straight to your room. The repairs are somewhat done, and Tech is already firing up the engines. It's time to leave. Whether this ship will make it off this planet is beyond you, but right now, all you need is some space.

It's time for you to take a breather, and isolate yourself for a while.

[call-sign-shark]

I love your stories! Could you please write some more father figure mav and platonic dagger squad? Xx

awwww thank you so much anon, this one is for you! Me love cute platonic fluff, it's just so heartwarming ;w;

✨ Ohana Means Family ✨

Summary: During a movie night, the Dagger Squad fights over which movie to watch. While observing them, you realize that you, who never had a family, finally found one.

Words: 1k

Tags: PURE FLUFF, Platonic love, family fluff, DadMav and his Dagger kids // reader super close to Hangman

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“But I don’t want to watch a horror movie!” Hangman complains, crossing his arms on his muscular chest. Bob lowers his head, disappointed. 

“You never listen to any of my suggestions anyway.” He says with a little voice, readjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Bob, you ALWAYS suggest horror movies. Last month we did a Saw marathon. And you were the only one enjoying it. Payback almost fainted.”  

“That’s not true! I was just… Just tired!” Payback retorts from below. He is sitting on the floor, holding the bowl of popcorn between his legs. He has already eaten half of it, even if the movie had not started yet.

“What about a Disney?” Phoenix suggests.

“To hell with Disney, it’s been two weeks we only watch Disney movies.” 

“Come on, everyone likes them.”

“The problem is not the movies themselves. It’s Rooster constantly singing the songs during and after the movies.”  Hangman rolls his eyes,    laying on the sofa with his head on your lap and his legs on Coyote's.

“Fuck you, Jake. At least I don’t choose spaghetti westerns.” Rooster growls, also sitting on the floor. He is braiding Shark’s long blonde mane with surprising patience. 

At one point you stop listening to the argument. When a dagger suggests a movie, another one immediately complains. This is a vicious circle. Yet, your Y/EC eyes carefully observe everyone while your hand absentmindedly pets Hangman’s blonde hair. He had just closed his eyes, almost purring at your touch. Sometimes he winces when he hears a movie title he does not like. 

“Star Trek?”

A pillow flies across the room and hits Fanboy right in the face. The WSO shakes his head, looks dagger at Shark, and throws it back. You don't need to listen to the conversation: you know he probably suggested the old Stark Trek movies. After all, that is why you all call him Fanboy. The pillow flies again yet Rooster and Shark slightly tilt on the same side simultaneously, avoiding the pillow. 

“And what about a musical?” 

Judging by the storm of protests, Coyote understands that his tastes in movies are far from winning unanimous support.  You cannot help but smile, your fingers still massaging Hangman’s head. A faint and amused smirk appears on your beautiful lips: It is the same hilarious struggle each night. The Daggers would reunite in the living room and fight over the movie to watch, while Maverick would prepare snacks in the kitchen. Popcorn, nachos with guacamole and cheese, and fresh beers.

You suddenly feel a cold and wet muzzle sniffing your free hand. You take a quick look at your left side, only to see Crashtest’s big face looking at you with his shining beady eyes. His large mouth is open, tongue hanging. You chuckle when looking at the dog and finally run your free hand through the pale fur of his neck. Here you are, forced to pet both Hangman and Crashtest.

Crashtest is a big beige American Pitbull whose owner is Shark, but he quickly becomes the family’s dog. She called him so because, when he was a puppy, he would run everywhere and bump against the walls.

A soft sigh escapes from your lips as you realize that you have found a family.  A broken, small, and weird family… But a true one.

“So, what are we watching tonight?” Mav’s voice echoes in the living room and snatches you from your thoughts. He obviously knows that no one managed to reach agreement. He lays the plates on the table and raises an eyebrow while looking at the young pilots scattered in the room, “Are you serious? Alright. Since you can’t decide…” He pauses and his emerald eyes fall on you, “Y/CS? What do you want to watch? You have the last word.” 

Surprised, you look at Mav, then at the Dagger Squad, and then at Mav again. To be true he had caught you off guard. 

“So?” Hangman asks. He had just reopened his eyes and is now looking at you with an adorable yet slightly cocky grin, his head still comfortably resting on your lap. 

“Lilo and Stitch.” You say out of nowhere, suggesting the first movie that had crossed your mind at this moment. “I want to watch Lilo and Stich.”   You repeat, and this time you are delighted with your choice. It seems like a perfect movie for your adoptive family.

“YESSS!” Phoenix and Rooster exclaim. The dog barks happily, wanting to join the party. Surprisingly enough, everyone kind of agrees with you. Even Hangman, who has complained about Disney movies twenty minutes ago.

“Lilo and Stich.” Mav concludes, visibly satisfied with your decision, before letting his body fall on the huge L-shapes sofa he had bought to welcome all his kids at home. Doing so, he forces Hangman to move in order to avoid getting crushed by him. The blonde pilot growls and, sitting next to you, wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders. The feeling of his warm skin against yours is soothing. With butterflies in your stomach, you snuggle against him. You and Hangman have been closer these past few weeks since you saved his life during a mission. 

As Maverick grabs the remote and scrolls to find the movie, all the daggers join him, Hangman, and you on the couch no matter if they have to snuggle against each other to all fit. Lilo and Stitch’ s intro starts and fills the room with the sweet melody of He Mele No Lilo. Before focusing on the movie, you take a quick look across the room.

Phoenix’s head rests on Bob’s shoulder.

Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy are nudging each other, trying to hold their laugh.

Rooster keeps playing with one of Shark’s braids while her hand gently strokes Mav’s thigh. 

As for you, Hangman keeps you in his arms. Hugging you as if his own life depends on it. His sweet and masculine fragrance tingles your nostrils. 

Another bark: Crashtest climbs on the couch and the gentle brute rests his head on your lap. 

A soft smile stretches your lips. 

They are your Ohana.

[00-hawkboi-00]

Forget-Me-Not

Part One

Pairing; Gaz x male!reader

WC; ~6.3k

Warnings; none? I don't think?? Lemme know if there are any I should tag

Summary; gaz is definitely an attraction-at-first-sight kinda man/ it's time to wake up from that coma bby <33

A/n; when I said 'fluffy' I meant no one was gettin tortured this time around . Also, yes, this is definitely a set up for a ton of angst content <3 (note the unfinished ch title) There's going to be a "missing scenes" feel to this one, that's intentional.

Edit- I forgot to mention, this takes place before the other two fics, during the mw2 campaign (tho I definitely spread out the events bc no way could this all take place in the span of a week)

---"this is how we began,"---

Kyle had just gotten back from almost a week of being tossed around like a damn ping-pong ball when he met them. Or, rather, met you.

Fresh out of the shower—yet he swore he could still smell that filthy water on himself—and bored out of his mind with nothing else to do.

It would take a bit of time before Laswell fed them some more actionable intel, and to Kyle's knowledge, the two other members of their team were already on the hunt in Mexico. So all there was to do was wait.

Well, Kyle figured he could probably use this time to catch up on some much needed rest—but where was the fun in that?

He couldn't sleep, not right now, not when Price had informed him of a new squad touching down at their base this afternoon. According to the captain, they—around five or so soldiers—were just here to provide support if needed.

Kyle didn't think it was necessary, but it's not like he had any say in the matter. Especially since, apparently, the squad would only be using their base as a rest stop between their own missions. So, again, he didn't see the point.

But, like any curious soldier would do—and any who were a bit skeptical about their newest comrades—, Kyle was already beelining his way to where he knew the newcomers would touch down.

Kyle had paid attention to the bare minimum information needed to avoid butting heads with the group, but never dug much further than that. Some American mercenaries under General Shepard's direct command and, as he'd mentioned before, here to provide support or something. Again, he hadn't paid much mind to the info thrown at him; honestly didn't think he'd end up meeting them anyhow.

Only when he finally gets out on the tarmac Kyle doesn't immediately rush to greet the new soldiers as he usually would. He comes to a full stop, previously resting heartbeat now running a marathon in his chest, gaze zeroed in on you.

Seeing you—your form lax and almost casual in comparison to your stiff-postured comrades, a certain air of confidence surrounding you—made Kyle wish he'd done a bit more research, asked a few more questions.

Dressed no differently from the rest, there was nothing particularly interesting about you. Nothing that should draw him in so wholly upon merely seeing you. He couldn't even see your face, for fuck's sake—nor could he see any of the rest of the squad's, but that's besides the point.

You hadn't even glanced his way and Kyle was acting like a schoolboy seeing his crush in the hall between classes.

“You're staring, Kyle.”

“Mh- Wha-?” He drags his attention away from you, wholly prepared to start spluttering out his defense when he recognizes the man who'd come to stand beside him. Noticing the barest hint of a smile pulling at his captain's mouth.

With a soft scoff Kyle looks away again, shaking his head a little. “Not at all, Cap’, just scoping out the newcomers. That's all.”

As anyone else would do, of course.

But they both know it's a lie.

Right before Price has the chance to open his mouth again—likely to playfully call Kyle out on his bullshit in that gruff way of his—the aforementioned group of newbies comes to a stop in front of them.

Two in front, three fanned out behind them. Five after all, it seemed. You and some guy in the front, the rest Kyle wasn't sure of, their identities far too obscure to tell.

“Cap-” The guy standing beside you starts to speak, only to be roughly—albeit probably playfully—nudged aside by your elbow, effectively cutting him off.

“Greetin’s Captain,” you say, amusement obvious in your tone, a slight wrinkling at the corners of your eyes betraying a hidden smile.

And Kyle would be lying if he said he wasn't completely enraptured as you spoke. Barely even registering the hand you held out to shake Price’s hand.

“Shadow 0-9, at your service,” though there's still a hint of humor in your voice, there's a certain air of professionalism to it too. Even as you retract your hand and raise it, fingers curled into a fist and thumb jutted out, to gesture to the soldiers around you.

Starting with the one beside you, then on to the three behind you, right to left. “Joined by Shadows 0-3, 1-4, 1-5, and 2-3.”

Then it's on to the actually serious stuff. “Commander Graves has sent us under the General's orders to stay here and provide assistance to your cause if need be. Though mostly we will be carrying out our own missions and using your base as a landing zone between operations.”

And again, amused—your flip-flopping emotions were going to give him whiplash at this rate.

This time clapping a heavy, gloved hand on 0-3’s shoulder, the slight crinkle around your eyes returning. “If y'all got any questions, feel free to ask me,” lightly jostling 0-3 now. “these imbeciles hardly got a clue what's goin' on half the time anyway.”

It's obvious the other four Shadows are used to your antics, as none of them even bat an eye at your, likely empty, insult to their intelligence.

Kyle zones out as Price goes over his own spiel, mind somehow blissfully blank as he stands beside his captain. Thumbs subconsciously slung through his belt loops in place of gripping his vest like he usually would, gaze focused on the group in front of him, giving all the impressions of some serious, gold-star sergeant attentively paying attention to his CO.

That couldn't be further from the truth.

The spell Kyle is under only breaks when Price directs his attention his way, drawing his focus when the man says, “-gent Garrick ‘ere will show you lot around. All the standard things; barracks, mess, rec and the works-”

He then proceeds to space out again when your gaze slips from Price and to Kyle instead, not a single thing out of place as you analyze him.

It feels like you've got a scalpel to his skin, peeling away layer after layer. Through the muscle and fatty tissue, and deeper still, until you've reached the bone, and you keep going.

It's not uncomfortable, the way you tear into him like a rabid hound gobbles up a raw steak. Or maybe not rabid, no, you're not feral. You’re cool and calculating and yet playful all the same. A working dog, a trained hound, then.

It's more.. Kyle doesn't think he harbors the vocabulary to put it into words how he feels about it; flayed alive under your watchful gaze. It's strange. But it's not.. bad.

It's been all of five seconds when your eyes flicks away from him. A quick scan, a once over, just as he had done to your squad, and then you're fixated on Price again.

Price who's still talking, saying things Kyle doesn't have the wherewithal to bring himself to care about. Not when he felt so viscerally raw and unbelievably vulnerable in his own damn base at the moment.

He has a few more seconds to compose himself before Price finishes up and all five of the collectives’ attention is on him, expectant.

And so Kyle plasters on a carefree expression, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile, and casually nudges Price with a loose fist. A mused, “thanks, Cap'” and such, then he's taking charge.

Voice level and strong, like any typical self-respecting Sergeant, as he turns and urges the group to follow.

The last thing Kyle expects is for you to fall into step beside him—with the impression of your personality he'd gathered, it shouldn't be a surprise—, only lagging a half-step behind, a grin obvious under your mask.

His brain short-circuits, but Kyle quickly recovers, keeping his focus locked straight ahead and decidedly not looking at you. Not for any reason in particular.

“Sergeant,” You drawl—and, fuck, it was just a rank, a title, several others held the same one. So why the hell did it feel so different when you said it?

“Got somethin’ on your mind-” Kyle begins casually, as if his heart wasn't doing literal jumping jacks in his ribcage right now. And it takes him a brief moment to remember what he was supposed to call you, wracking his brain for answers, before he finishes with a bland, “0-9?”

God, he hoped that was the right number. There were five of you, all these numbers were going to be a struggle to keep up with.

“Oh, none ‘a that.” You say with a soft chuckle, waving him off. “I know those digits can get a bit confusing. Call me Viper, that's what everyone else calls me anyway.”

Viper? Like a fucking snake? Not that Kyle had any room to judge; not when two of his teammates were a cleaning product and a Hot Topic employee.

Shite, that probably also meant you wanted him to extend the same damn olive branch. Kyle considered himself a pretty social man, he could hold his own in a group, could approach strangers with almost the same confidence he did with friends.

But there was something about you.

And Kyle wasn't sure if it was good or not.

“A’right, Viper,” Kyle doesn't remember swiping his keycard, but he does jump right back into his body when his hand curls around the handle, pulling the door open and letting you in first before letting your comrades struggle with the heavy door after him. Taking his place just that half a step in front of you once more. “They call me Gaz.”

“There a story behind that one?” You ask, not a single ounce of hesitation or delay.

“That depends, there one behind yours?” Kyle quips right back, not missing a beat.

Kyle's ears pick up the tiniest huff you let out, but nothing else. “That depends,” you mimic. “how much you wanna know?”

“Whatever you'll give me.” It was easy to lay the charm on thick, but it seemed almost like a competition between you two, as you quickly fired back.

“Desperate, are we, Sergeant?” Kyle could've swore you just, honest to God, purred when you said that. But he must've just been hearing things.

“Just curious.” You had asked first. How had this turned on him?

“Mm, think I'll just leave ya guessing.” You muse, closing that half-step distance to just barely brush your arm up against his, and then back to your place again. “It'll be more fun that way.”

Kyle nearly forgets there's four other people witnessing this conversation right then.

Finally alone again, and having gotten the new squad settled in properly, Kyle takes a moment for himself.

As of right now apparently his fellow sergeant and good ‘ol lieutenant were currently taking a tour around Mexico, and Price was out doing very important Captain-things, so Kyle was entirely on his own.

On his own to deal with whatever the fuck that dumpsterfire of a base tour that had been.

He'd been entirely sidetracked by you the whole time! It didn't make any sense, what did you have that the other soldiers didn't?

You all wore the same uniform, all bore the same random-ass numbers, all were just a bunch of trained killers- there was literally nothing to set you apart!

A lot of people were touchy by nature, especially in professions like this that were built on comradery, Soap certainly was, so there was no reason in the deepest parts of hell for why-

Kyle groans softly to himself, running a hand over his hair before pushing himself up and off his desk chair.

There was no rhyme or reason to it, to why he, in the most cheesy fucking way, honestly felt a goddamn spark when you touched him.

And it wasn't even in the realm of- of intimate. It was a simple brush against him here and there, made perfect sense too! You'd been standing so close the entire time- it was only expected that once and a while you two would graze each other now and again.

He's pacing now, wishing nothing more than to be able to pick up his phone and call the only man who'd be able to help him make sense of all these weird feelings. And also the only man who'd call him daft and his brother in the same sentence.

But he can't do that, so Kyle resigned to simply doing what he should've done in the first place after his furious scrub down in the shower; take a damn nap.

Kyle's first impression of your personality had been wildly off-mark.

If he was going off of how he'd first perceived you last week on the tarmac, he would say that you were easygoing, gave off a more.. laid back energy, maybe even a bit quick-witted.

But his current observations said everything but that.

Kyle had been trying to skirt past all the tired, bleary-eyed soldiers that passed him in the hall without being noticed by the more lively of the bunch; he didn't have the energy for that right now. The last few had nearly flown by him though, wide-eyed and clearly spooked.

Confused, Kyle had brushed it off and continued walking. Sometimes these men were like wild horses, alerted by the smallest mishaps.

Kyle becomes keenly aware of exactly why those last stragglers had appeared so frightened when he turns down the next corner, on his way to the rec room, when he spots you.

Or, more accurately, spots you tearing one of your own soldiers a new one in the empty corridor. The very self-explanatory as to why, isolated corridor.

He gets the gist of it fairly quickly, even as the words flying out of your mouth go in one ear and out the other without a hint of recognition.

The shorter man had obviously fucked something up, and was now hearing it in all the jumbled mix of curses and slang Kyle couldn't even begin to comprehend.

“An' if I eva’ ‘ear ya sayin' shit like that again I'll ‘ave ya scrapin’ shit out the muck from the break ‘a dawn ‘n ‘til the damn cows come home, ya hear?” You spit, masked face mere centimeters away from the other's. A gloved hand fisted in 1-5’s, if he remembered correctly, shirt collar, making him have to nearly raise to the toe of his boots in order to not be choked by the fabric.

There's a venomous flare in your eyes when you snap to look at him, a misstep on his part alerting you, and Kyle has never felt more conflicted in his life.

“Everything good here, Viper?” Obviously not, but what else was he supposed to say?

“Just peachy.” You grit out, fingers slowly unfurling from 1-5’s shirt. In turn the poor man is able to lower himself back onto the ground fully, letting out an obvious breath of relief when your hand pulls back completely, falling clenched at your side.

The brave soul who had somehow triggered the brunt of your aggression manages to stand there a little longer until you huff out a gruff, “dismissed.” And send 1-5 on his way.

Though not before barking out a, “And be sure ‘ta relay the message ‘ta Pierce!” As the man scurries away, a quick “yes, sir!” choked out over his shoulder.

“And if I asked what that was about?” Kyle asks when 1-5 is out of sight, raising a curious eyebrow.

“I'd say it ain't yer business, Garrick.” You snap, still obviously not having gotten the frustration out of your system. Kyle's first instinct is to throw another quip right back at you, extra sarcasm on top like it's sprinkles and he's making a damn sundae, and he almost does, but Kyle quickly slams his mouth back shut before the words escape.

Instead he sighs and relaxes his posture.

“Y’look like shit.”

That seems to put a halt to whatever was rampaging through your head, the rage clearing for a moment to make room for shock first, then confusion.

“..what?” Your clearly puzzled gaze—so expressive, even with the mask—would be humorous, if not for the truth to Kyle's words.

You did look like shit. Like someone had run a train on you—literally. A real one; honk honk, rattle rattle and all. Your hair ruffled, matted with some unknown substance and sticking up in every which direction. The black paint around your eyes was smudged away and exposed your true skin tone, well.. kinda. Now with the additional flavor of mud and debris.

Even with the limited access he had to your face, Kyle would say you looked.. tired. Run ragged—maybe that train wasn't all that metaphorical. Beneath the anger it was clear as day you were just exhausted; you looked nothing like that first day he'd met you, when he had shown you around base.

Hidden grin and playful banter replaced with a stiff posture and veiled limp—yeah, he definitely noticed that part. You weren't the only observant one here.

“I said you look like shit, mate.” Kyle says. His clarification doesn't, well, clear anything up for you, if anything just frustrating you further. Making your eyebrows furrow in a way that's almost cute.

You huff, posture straightening even though Kyle can see the way the new position puts a strain on your worn body- he doesn't mention it. It's not his place.

“Thanks.” You reply, voice flat.

“It was a compliment.” It wasn't.

Deadpan, “really?”

“Mhm.” But Kyle stays firm in his resolve.

“I aim to please.”

“Clearly.” And there it is. Kyle can't see it, obviously, but the small twitch of your features, the slightest crinkle at the corner of your eye, tells him he has succeeded. Even if it's not your usual smile—not that he would know what that looked like.

Another puff of air from you, closer to a sigh this time. “Did you need somethin', Gaz?”

The heat is gone, but Kyle can see the way the embers linger; ready to reignite at the first spark.

“How ‘bout we take a walk, mh?” He wasn't planning on a walk, really, but Kyle wasn't actively planning against one either. “Clear your head a bit?”

You look like you want to brush him off, hesitating like you want to say no and rush off just like your subordinate had. But you don't. “..sure.”

And that's all Kyle needs to tilt his head in the direction he came from before turning around.

Kyle doesn't have to look back to know you've taken your place the position on his left, half a step behind him. Just as you had that first day.

It becomes a sort of.. routine.. after that. And while Kyle hadn't seen much of you that first week, you make an appearance by his side—always on the left, always half a step behind—more often than not.

A little spark of some unidentifiable emotion lighting up in your eyes when you see him. Kyle isn't quite certain what it means, but if it meant he got to see you more often, he was fine with not knowing.

You were.. friends. Or as much as you could be in this situation, one Kyle knew was temporary. Which had the man trying to heed Ghost's advice for once and not get attached; there was no telling when either of you would be shipped out again, never to return.

“Gaz!” The sound of your voice is unmistakable when shouted over the noisy chatter of the cafeteria, and Kyle's heart definitely does not do a weird flip when he hears it. Definitely not.

Yeah, so he may or may not be struggling with the whole following Ghost's advice thing. Hey! He said he was trying, not that it was actively working.

“Viper.” Kyle greets when you take a seat in front of him. Usually he would have lunch with his dear captain, but Price was even more busy as of late—and reasonably so—and the lack of that familiar presence was really starting to wear on him. Made the lack of another pair of comrades much more prominent.

“Did you know your bellybutton is actually attached to your bladder-”

You filled in that empty space a little.

“What? I thought it was just cut off from everything else?”

Kyle never did find out what had you so down in the dumps, but it wasn't his place to know anyway. Everyone had their secrets.

“No! There's a lil' line that travels from your bellybutton down to your bladder. That's why it feels so damn weird when touched-”

You were a little spitfire. Reminded him of Soap, kinda. Except Soap didn't flip flop from fiery rage one moment to calm and collected the next, buttery smooth words dripping with innuendo.

And then there was right now, where you shared the strangest little factoids with Kyle.

“And don't even get me started on the dormant blood vessel in your liver-”

And that is where Kyle drew the line.

“Nope, nope, nope-” Kyle says, waving a fork in your general direction. Amused when you gasp in surprise, as if he's threatening you with something more substantial than this flimsy plastic. “I am eating. I don't wanna hear gross facts about my anatomy.”

“Would you prefer a physical demonstration on anatomy instead?”

And that was the weird innuendos he mentioned before. Sure, Soap and him shared a few playful taunts now and again, occasionally the rest of the team would chime in—and there was whatever the hell Soap and Ghost had going on, but Kyle didn't think those were all jokes. But this felt.. different.

“You are a menace, you know that?” Kyle huffs, twirling some bland mush around the fear-inspiring fork from before; now that he wasn't actively threatening you with it.

A dramatic gasp, and Kyle doesn't even have to look up to know you look just as dramatized as you sound.

“I am a damn saint, Gaz!”

“Rigghhhht, is that what we're calling this?” He does look up this time, and the slight widening of your eyes, the little glimmer of something hiding in those captivating hues, makes him glad he did. Pocketing that adorable priceless look on your face for safekeeping.

“I've got the body, the attitude,” you count with both hands, a finger for each listed item. Gaze on something vaguely to your right as you think. “And the charm! That's like- the fuckin' holy trinity. I'm a damn holy temple, I tell ya!”

“Sure you are, mate.” Kyle says, a small grin on his face that he couldn't get rid of even if he wanted to. It does make eating a little difficult though.

He tries not to linger on the fact that you never eat in front of him. But you always come to hang out with him anyway.

Things are good between you two, and Kyle feels warm and giddy every time you grace him with your, as you'd once put it, saintly presence. He doesn't ponder much as to the why he feels this way; not that it really matters, this was temporary and you'd be shipped off somewhere else eventually.

That space to his left feels cold when you're not there, empty, and even though he's never worked with you in the field, Kyle finds himself looking back, expecting you to be there when he crawls through tall grass and mud in that suffocating ghillie suit.

It's dumb and Kyle doesn't know why he does it, but he half expects you to chip in a word or two over his shoulder in the midst of his playful banter with Price and Laswell. When he is, once again, pushing through tall grass. Only this time he gets to snipe a few dozen unsuspecting soldiers from hundreds of meters away.

Things are going well, so damn well, almost too good to be true. And it is.

Kyle would have never expected to hear such raw panic in his captain's voice, accustomed to the man's usual gruff and composed behavior. It strikes fear right into Kyle's core, cutting through his chest and piercing directly into the sergeant's heart.

In the beginning, Kyle had been eager to get this over with and fly back to base with the expectation of seeing you again; now that idea was nothing but a passive thought as his mind was clouded with a worry mirroring Price's.

Kyle's entire torso feels like it's been ripped to shreds when they touch down on base again, every step shooting sparks of pain through his nerves and reminding him why he hates heights so damn much. But at least they managed to get Laswell back before anything could go terribly wrong. They had Farah and her soldiers to thank for that.

Wanting nothing more than to soak himself in a tub of scalding hot water, and knowing he'll have to settle for a lukewarm shower instead, then sleep the pain away, Kyle's path is interrupted by the sight of you marching down the corridor.

“Gaz! Shit- there you are!” You call when a few paces away from him, a sort of relief obvious in your breathy tone. You come to an abrupt halt right in front of him, blocking Kyle's way and causing him to come to a sudden stop lest he accidentally crash into you.

Your eyes are analytical and Kyle is far too exhausted to decipher the several layers of emotion that flash through your gaze.

In the end you seem to come to some sort of conclusion, stating a flat, “Y’look like shit.”

“Yeah,” Kyle huffs out a surprised laugh; the phrase reminiscent of when he'd caught you chewing out one of your soldiers. “Falling out of a helicopter doesn't usually make for a pretty sight.”

“Fuckin'- pardon!?” Your eyes go wide, and Kyle would bet your mouth was hanging open right now too. “How the hell did that even happen?”

Kyle couldn't reveal too much of their little rendezvous in Urzikstan, but he could tell you the gist of it. Namely how the fuck he got tossed out of Nikolai's helicopter like a damn ragdoll.

“Was helping out a friend,” car hopping and trying not to get shot at in the process. “Got a bit tossed around, you know how it is- RPG, couldn't deploy countermeasures in time..”

“Luckily I got the rope latched in time, shit hurt the most when the rope ran out.” Kyle's hip bones ache at the memory, and he knows for certain his body will be one giant bruise in the morning.

“Are- are you okay-?” You stammer, gaze no longer on him and now flicking over his dirtied uniform. Never lingering on one spot.

“I'll bounce back soon eno-” Your hands reach out then, as if wanting to touch him and make sure for yourself. Kyle cuts off mid sentence, eyes widening by a fraction and body going stiff.

As if just realizing what you were doing, your hands pause where they are, hovering awkwardly between the two of you. Your gloves and his own gear serve as a thick barrier between your bodies, but Kyle swears there is an energy buzzing there; an electric static thriving in the air between you both, the tension near suffocating.

“I'm just gonna..” it takes Kyle a second to realize you've fully retracted your hands by now, a stale awkwardness lingering between you two.

Kyle isn't sure whether to feel disappointed or be appalled by how much he wished you had touched him. Between the fluctuating altitudes he'd endured and the full body ache he was currently experiencing, Kyle comes to the conclusion that it must just be the exhaustion finally kicking in. Yes, of course. That is why he was mourning the loss of something that hadn't even happened. There was no other possible reason.

Clearing his throat with a stilted cough, Kyle nods. “Y-yeah, definitely. And I should take that shower..”

“Of course, yeah-” Your gaze is downcast now, arms tucked behind your back and Kyle notes the nervous shift of your weight from one foot to the other. “You- you do that.”

“Yeah.” And then Kyle hightails his ass out of there, it's a little awkward—who is he kidding, it's beyond awkward. And how many times was he going to say awkward, would any other synonyms suffice? You had been standing in front of him, so Kyle has to do a weird little hop to the side to get around you- which then triggers you into motion. And you step to the side to get out of his way.

Only the direction your subconscious chooses is once again right in his path and Kyle stumbles over his own feet, barely avoiding colliding with you but pulling on his sore muscles in a way that has him digging his teeth into his lip to avoid letting out a sharp yelp.

When Kyle regains his balance, the hallway is empty and you're nowhere to be found. With a deep sigh, and a heavier weight on his shoulders than before, Kyle straightens back up and continues on his way to his initial destination.

There better be some warm water left when he gets there.

As it turned out, falling out of a helicopter and just barely surviving by sheer luck did actually have its drawbacks and one couldn't just walk away with a few scrapes and expect to be a-okay in the ol’ nob up top.

For Kyle that meant various scenes playing out in his dreams of what could have happened, not what did. Ranging from him not having clipped the hook onto his gear right, to the rope just snapping in half the minute Kyle reached the end of the line. Even some where he just straight up splat into the back of one of the many trucks that had been flying by. The worst had to be when the helo was hit dead on and Kyle wasn't even given the chance to make things right, bleeding out and dying right then and there in the cabin of Nikolai's helicopter.

Waking up drenched in a cold sweat wasn't anything new to the sergeant, but waking up alone, as of late, was. Usually he was bunked up with Soap, and when not on base, or stationed on another, he was grouped up with other soldiers.

Being forced into the waking world with his heart lodged in his throat and beating so fast it was practically trying to escape, with the aches and bruises that made the nightmares all that more real, and being stuck inside a dark, empty room? Now that just wasn't pleasant at all.

Pushing through the stabbing aches radiating throughout his body, Kyle forces himself to stand, haphazardly throws on an old hoodie and decides right then and there he needs a cup of tea. Extra steamy.

The walk to the common room, and subsequently the kitchenette beyond that, is short and Kyle doesn't have to think about it when he places one foot in front of the other. His legs easily carried him to his destination without the need for any extra brainpower.

Kyle doesn't notice the looming figure in the dark, obscured by shadow in the corner of the rec room, until he's already got a burning hot mug between his hands. Passing back through now that he's got his tea, he's graciously welcomed back by a lamp in the corner flicking on.

He blames the high-pitched squeal that rips from his throat on his exhaustion and not that he'd been spooked by a fucking light of all things.

“Viper- shit,” He breathes, the hand not currently cradling the mug flying up to clutch at his heart.

“Sorry.” You murmur, sounding a bit sheepish. Your voice is a little deeper than usual and Kyle assumes you must've also woken up recently. He opts to ignore the small flutters that erupt in his stomach at the sound. “Couldn't sleep. Didn't think anyone else would be out ‘ere, wasn't tryna startle ya.”

Kyle moves to wave off your concern, only to wince at the strain it puts on his sore muscles, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth.

You, ever the observant bastard, immediately zero in on his discomfort, one of your eyebrows quirking upward as you study him.

“Alright?”

Not trusting his voice, Kyle hums a noncommittal sound, and, trying to appear at least a little put together, straightens his posture and steps forward.

But the pain is worse now and he nearly spills his tea, instinctively tightening his grip around the steamy mug.

Fuck, Kyle had known it would hurt—Christ’s sake, he had literally fallen out of a damn helicopter—but he had obviously severely underestimated how bad it would be. Now, he was used to pain, you didn't get very far in this line of work without at the very least some tolerance for the aches and burns.

But this? This was a pain that went from an average sort of soreness in the muscles of his thighs, to sharp stabbing pains in his hips and a near debilitating throbbing ache that spanned over practically his entire torso.

Everything hurts. Laying down hurts. Standing hurts. Sitting hurts. Everything. Unless he stayed completely still, Kyle's entire body felt like one giant bruise. Any little twitch of a muscle sent a stabbing shock straight to his nervous system.

You're on your feet and standing in front of him before Kyle even has a chance to right himself again. When had his breathing become so labored?

There's no hesitation this time around, no awkwardness when your hands shoot out. Grasping his shoulders, your hold gentle yet firm, and stabilizing Kyle where he stood.

Kyle isn't quite sure when it had happened, but the warmth of his mug was gone. Replaced by the heat of your own body from where his hands rested—really, more or less hanging on for dear life; he'd be ashamed if he had the wherewithal to do so—on your waist. Fingers curled tight, twisted and snagged into the fabric of your shirt.

If Kyle hadn't been so out of it from the sheer amount of pain he was in, he would've noticed your lack of uniform. More dressed down than he'd ever seen you—though a mask still firmly in place, he would've noticed if it were otherwise.

“Did anyone check you out when you came back?” Kyle has to actively work to zone back in on the rough timber of your voice, his mind sluggish as it works through each word and syllable.

“Y- kinda? I wasn't bleeding out or nothing.”

“Oh, fuck's sake-” you let out a heavy exhale, and Kyle, though as disorientated as he currently is, can here the unsaid you’re a goddamn idiot clear as day in that singular breath.

“Alright. You're comin' with me.”

“Wh- huh?”

“With me. No questions, Garrick.” You hold no authority over him, if anything, this being his base, and not yours, Kyle had a bit more of a say in matters than you did. And yet, when you release your hold and untangle yourself from his, Kyle follows.

There is nothing stopping you from touching him now. Not since last night.

Kyle can still feel your hands, strong and yet so, so unbelievably delicate, running across his skin. Scouring his abdomen for anything that would clue you in on whether he had internal bleeding or not, pressing down on his bruised rib cage, checking for breaks in the fragile bone.

Thankfully, you find nothing but the bruising painted clearly on his skin, and Kyle can't get the picture, the feel, of your hands brushing over his stomach. Up his sides and down to his hips, further still to his aching thighs. The latter had been over his clothes, but the heat of your palms had been more than enough.

The following day, and practically every waking second now, Kyle's mind and eyes were on you. If he couldn't see you, he was thinking about you. And if he could see you, you were usually at his side. A hand on his shoulder, an elbow nudging his arm.

Kyle now found himself in an odd state of yearning. His body craved your touch in a way it never had for any other's. His heart skipped a couple beats every time he even caught sight of you.

And when you touched him? Shit, Kyle had to hope and pray the blush he could feel warming his cheeks wasn't as visible as it felt.

Kyle wasn't quite sure why he reacted to you the way he did. And, honestly, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to. He was perfectly content not knowing—was he? Or was he just burying what he didn't want to acknowledge?

He didn't ruminate on the fact that Soap had a tendency to touch him similarly—but, shit, it was different, wasn't it?—, and never had Kyle once responded to it the way he did with you.

If Price had noticed—which he likely hadn't with what was going on halfway around the globe. Soap and Ghost stuck somewhere in Mexico, and of course the constant planning on what their next move would be. The captain didn't mention it.

If Soap was here, he'd probably call Kyle out on his bullshit. But he wasn't, and Kyle was perfectly alright with continuing to ignore the, definitely one-hundred percent platonic, convoluted emotions he felt towards you.

Things were good; the last thing Kyle wanted was to accidentally rock this delicate sailboat when he currently had unlimited access to your bubbling laugher, sarcastic quips, and crinkling eyes.

A Viper, that's what you were nicknamed after, and, with that fiery attitude of yours, Kyle was starting to understand why.

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[3tabbiesandalab]

Something Out of a 90's Rom Com

Hi All! Sometime in the last couple of week I made it past 500 followers! A big thanks to all of you who are reading, liking, commenting and reposting my fics! It means the world to me that you enjoy them so thank you!

So here we are back with another Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Based on Bob's love for love and 90's rom coms (a little nod to Lewis’s dad Bill). It's a bit unbelievable and stupid but aren't all of those movies!

I was tagged in @jostystyles top tracks writing challenge to celebrate 2.6K. Congrats! My prompt was "I'm in love, accidently in love" from Accidently in love by the Counting Crows.

No real warnings I don't think. A bit of swearing, ejection from a jet and just pure fluffy goodness!

Here’s my masterlist if you want to read other things I write!

I hope you enjoy xox

Bob Floyd was a romantic, always had been. All he ever wanted was to fall in love with the one. But meeting anyone special was proving to be difficult. Between his babyface, nerdy looks, and awkward, wallflower personality and the fact he had a job that meant long periods away, he hadn’t attracted a lot of interest.

His friends, particularly Hangman, always had a good-natured plan to find him a date or a funny joke about him needing to get laid. The one about having the ability to light a black flamed candle during a Halloween full moon, was his current favourite.

At 31 years old, Bob had never been in love, well except for the massive crush he had on the girl who lived down the street when he was 11.

He just couldn’t help but want to fall stupidly, madly, hopelessly, head over heels in love with the one.

Bob was a little lonely and his right hand was certainly very overworked, but for the most part he was okay with waiting to find them.

You see, 90’s romantic comedies were Bob’s guilty pleasure. He loved watching them with his ma growing up, and after she died, he kept on watching. Firstly, it was because they reminded him of her, but then he grew to appreciate how the characters would fall accidentally in love, in the most ridiculous of ways.

Gradual feelings for your annoying stepbrother, or your teacher when you’re an undercover reporter in high school, or even the sex worker you hired because you were lonely, were the order of the day. So was realising you were in love with the feminist you were paid to date or the arty girl you bet you could make into prom queen or your best friend when they were about to get married.

Your sworn enemy would really end up being the love of your life, or you’d meet up with a stranger you met through talk back radio and live happily ever after. Or like, his ma’s personal favourite, you’d save your pretend comatose fiancé then fall in love with his brother.

He knew those movies were stupid, but Bob secretly hoped that something like that would happen to him.

Sadly, it looked like it he might never get the chance, seeing as he and Phoenix were about to burn into the ocean in the middle of winter.

They had been a successful, formidable team since their first mission with the dagger squad years ago and Phoenix had become the best friend Bob had ever had. They’d been through a lot together but surviving a second ejection from a F-18 seemed pretty unlikely, especially since this time they’d been shot out of the sky.

“Eject, eject, eject!” Phoenix cried out, voice clear and calm despite the fact they were about to abandon their burning aircraft at low altitude and plunge into the almost freezing temperatures below.

Bob didn’t hesitate and grabbed the ejection rings, lifted his head, pulled hard, and was propelled into the air. The rest of the sequence happened on pure instinct, and he anxiously searched the sky, making sure Phoenix had followed. He shakily let out the breath he was holding when he saw her parachute deploy safely seconds after his, and Bob braced himself for the rough landing in the frigid water.

……

Even with adrenaline coursing through Bob, he could tell he was injured. At a minimum, something was pretty wrong with a shoulder and some of his ribs. The ocean had done little to soften the impact of landing, and despite his best efforts to position himself correctly, he’s pretty sure he’d fractured an ankle.

Given the high risk of spinal injuries, protocol stated he should inflate his one-man life raft and stay put, but his seat kit had become detached, and he’d lost it somewhere. At least he had his life preserver around his neck keeping him afloat and there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to find Phoenix. Thankfully his glasses had remained intact under his flight helmet, and he could make her out in the distance.

Bob managed the slow, excruciating process of sidestroke, and conserving as much energy as he could, he made his way towards her. The cold water made it a little difficult to breathe and it pricked him painfully all over his body, and his shoulders and sternum screamed with the effort of swimming.

“Bob!” he heard Phoenix shout as he got closer. He had no idea how long it took him to get to her, but she had managed to inflate her life raft and was inside it, using her hands to paddle towards him.

“Nix… Nix are you okay?” he managed to grit out as he came up alongside her and lifted what he hoped was an uninjured shoulder over the lip of her life raft.

Phoenix barked out a teary laugh. “Not really. My collarbone I think, maybe more. Where’s your raft?”

“Fucked if I know.” Bob chuckled and winced as pain bloomed in his chest with the movement.

Her mouth lifted in a small smirk. “Ah… I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear Bob.”

“Pretty sure it won’t be the last time today.” He gave her a wry smile and tried to keep calm despite his short breaths and the pins and needles stabbing his extremities from the near freezing water.

“Shit it’s so cold. Is your SATCOM workin’ Nix? Our last coordinates showed we were maybe 20-30 miles north-east from the carrier before we had to eject.”

“Yeah, it’s transmitting. We gotta get you out of that water asap.” Phoenix said anxiously.

Bob shook his head at her. “Too injured. Don’t think I can pull myself up.” And she tried to haul his large upper body out of the water resulting in almost tipping herself out of the raft.

A painful groan ripped from both of them, and Bob stopped her from trying again. “Don’t Nix. You’ll hurt yourself more. There’s not enough room and you don’t need to be in the water too.”

“It’s like that wooden door in ‘Titanic’ all over again. Just don’t let go this time, Rose!” Bob laughed lightly despite the overwhelming situation. His body was shivering, and his heart was pounding. He had started to slowly turn a little numb, so at least he couldn’t feel the pain in his body as much anymore.

Phoenix glared at him with red rimmed eyes. “You and your 90’s fucking rom coms.”

“To b-be fair. I don’t think ‘Titanic’ is cl-classified as romance when a thousand p-people die,” he stuttered as his teeth started to chatter.

“Shit you’re gonna freeze. Bob, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” she said softly, pain lacing her voice.

Bob grabbed her hand with the one he had on the raft and squeezed. “N-no way. Don’t you say s-sorry. You d-d-did everythin’ you could, and it helped the t-team get out of there. G-got a couple of good shots off b-before we w-went in… I’m the idiot who l-l-lost their seat pack. Nix just, j-just keep talkin’ to me. Make me laugh. Till s-s-search and r-rescue come.”

He wasn’t an idiot. Even though it was daylight, floating in the frigid ocean in a flight suit, the signs of mild hypothermia were already setting in. If he was lucky, Bob maybe had 45 minutes until he was unconscious. But he needed to keep himself and Phoenix calm and he was pretty sure his calculations about their position was correct.

“You know when we get back, Bagman’s gonna double down on his efforts to get you laid. Near death experience and all that. He’ll probably even offer to fuck you himself.” Phoenix laughed faintly and squeezed his hand.

Bob managed a small smile. “I’m s-sure Roo will h-have somethin’ to s-say ‘bout that. I k-know you g-guys think it’s s-stupid but I d-don’t really c-care ‘bout that, w-wanna be in…”

“Love. Yeah, we know. We think it’s sweet Bob. Have a feeling it’ll be just like those shitty movies you like so much.” Phoenix smiled at him warmly as she interrupted, holding his hand over the side of the raft.

“H-hope s-so. N-not picky how it h-happens. L-love at first s-s-sight or some s-stupid mix up, f-friends who f-f-fall in love. P-pity I d-don’t have the r-r-right equipment or m-maybe you and I c-c-could have ended up together.” Bob joked as he stammered violently from the cold.

“Oh so you swear and you’re a shit too now? You’re right, your cock’s lost on me. I just hope it doesn’t freeze before SAR gets here,” she snickered softly, although her watery eyes showed how upset she was.

“C-can’t feel my dick r-right now s-so it’s entirely p-p-possible it could f-fall off before I g-get to use it a-g-gain,” he snorted weakly. Bob’s brain was starting to go fuzzy so he might be imagining it, but his ears pricked up at a very faint mechanical sound. “D-do you h-hear that N-nix?”

Phoenix listened intently and whipped her head around in every which way, and a small, relieved smile crept over her face. “I think I see it in the distance. I’m gonna set off my smoke flare.”

Bob didn’t follow any particular religion, but he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to whoever was listening, that Phoenix and himself would be rescued, preferably with all appendages still in working order.

The acrid smell and the sizzling sound signalled that she had ignited their only flare. Bob’s legs and arms were almost completely numb, and he started to feel drowsy. Phoenix must have noticed because she grabbed his upper arm with a tight grip.

“Hey Bob!” she shouted loudly, and his eyes opened at her voice, and he saw the bright, red-orange smoke billowing upwards. “Stay awake! They’re almost here.”

He nodded his head slightly and he fought to keep his eyes on her. “M-maybe todays the d-day I m-meet the one. G-got the r-ring and everythin’…”

“Bob! Hey! Talk to me. What ring?!” Phoenix shook him to keep him awake.

Her jostling kept him from nodding off. “M-my g-g-grandma’s ring. S-s-somethin’ told me t-to put it in m-my flight s-suit t-t-today.”

Phoenix laughed breathlessly, maybe at his comment or in relief at the sound of the helicopter above them. “Where the hell did you think you would meet the love of your life out here?”

Bob was so very tired but vaguely registered someone drop and land in the water, and his eyes grew heavy again as they started swimming towards him and Phoenix.

“M-m-maybe they’ll f-fall out of t-the s-sky…” he mumbled sleepily.

“Holy shit. Robbie…” Bob heard a sweet female voice call out to him before his vision blurred and everything faded into black.

……

YFN sat quietly in a chair next to the bed in medical and let her gaze fall on the man lying in it. Now that he was no longer soaking wet and hypothermic, and not wearing his flight helmet, she could really appreciate how handsome he was. Curly sandy brown hair, long eyelashes, freckled nose, strong jaw and a pouty bottom lip.

His glasses were on the table, so she took the opportunity to play with his curls and trace the features of his face with her finger softly, before she decided it was probably weird to touch a sleeping person like this.

Instead, YFN took his hand in hers and looked at him in part concern, confusion, and awe as she remembered the events of the last couple of hours.

She had been on standby as a SAR for the dagger squad’s mission. They were considered as the finest aviators the US navy had to offer, so ordinarily search and rescue were never usually needed. But the order had come through about a missing F-18 and YFN and the team had been deployed immediately.

When she’d heard Lieutenant Bob Floyd was one of the aviators that had ejected after been fired on by an enemy aircraft, her spine stiffened. Surely it couldn’t be the same Robbie Floyd who she’d had a huge crush on when they were kids. She didn’t even realise they had both ended up in the navy.

But once YFN was in the water, she took one look at the near unconscious man and knew he was one and the same.

After what felt like an eternity of YFN working on him while he was barely conscious in the helicopter, his gorgeous blue eyes fluttered open from behind his wire frames and the relief she felt was immense.

And so was the overwhelming feeling of love.

Even though Robbie, or Bob as he was now called, was very drowsy from hypothermia and in a lot of pain from his multiple injuries, she swore he recognised her and silently mouthed her name.

Then he started mumbling stuff about fate, love, and soulmates and then all of a sudden, a diamond ring was placed on her finger.

The timing and the situation was entirely ridiculous. Plus it was really unprofessional to accept a proposal from an injured, confused man that she just rescued from the ocean.

But YFN couldn’t help but hold hope it was real, the whole thing was just so goddamn romantic.

It was like something out of a 90’s rom com.

YFN was snapped out of her thoughts by the pilot she recognised as the infamous Hangman. “Well well well. What do we have here…”

He had Bob’s pilot Phoenix in a wheelchair, and they approached her. “Who would have known all ‘baby on board’ needed to do to find the future Mrs Floyd was to be shot out of the sky,” he said with a cocky drawl.

YFN shook her head at him and took her hand off Bob’s. “What?! No… I’m not.”

“But you’re wearing his grandma’s ring.” Hangman smirked as he pointed at her hand.

YFN looked at and fiddled nervously with the beautiful foreign object on her finger. “Ah yeah I am. But he put it on there for safe keeping… I think. And he was slipping in and out of consciousness. That doesn’t count as a proposal.”

Phoenix fixed an intense gaze on her. Even though she was wounded and sitting down, she was very intimidating. “It counts. I was there. I saw the way you looked at him. You love him.”

She wasn’t wrong. When they had locked eyes on the helicopter, it was like some magical, fated moment that only exists in the movies and it felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies had been released in her chest.

But she didn’t want Bob’s friends to know that she’d fallen instantly in love, so she stood her ground. “You were high on morphine.”

“Don’t care. It happened. You’re Bob’s fiancé,” the pilot countered.

“Darlin’ he let you strip his clothes. I’ve been practically shoving him in front of every single person with a heartbeat for years and he’s never even bat an eyelid. But with you… poof… he’s naked.” Hangman laughed as he made magic gestures with his hands.

YFN turned bright red and squeaked. “He had hypothermia, and his flight suit was freezing cold! I was warming him up!”

“Mmm-hmm,” he winked as he flipped a toothpick in his mouth and YFN rolled her eyes at him in frustration.

Phoenix raised an eyebrow at her. “So if you don’t love him, why you haven’t taken off the ring yet.”

Panic began to rise inside of her, she knew she was found out. “I ahh… umm… it’s stuck?”

Phoenix remained unwavering with her stare.

YFN sighed. She gave up denying it and admitted her feelings. “Okay fine. Yes! I’m in love. Accidently in love! I have no idea what happened.”

She looked at them incredulously and started muttering, “I mean who finds the boy who lived down the street that you had a crush on when you were like 11 in the middle of the ocean 20 years later? There’s no way he meant any of it. Right?”

“I knew it. You do know him. You kept calling him Robbie.” Phoenix said smugly and YFN nodded.

Phoenix’s expression changed and she smiled warmly at her. “Look Bob might have been out of it, but he meant it. He’s been waiting for this for a long time.”

YFN’s eyebrows nearly shot into her hairline when she heard Hangman practically squeal in delight. “This is too fuckin’ good! An American hero is shot down and rescued by the girl next door from decades ago. They fall instantly in love and he just so happens to be carrying his grandma’s engagement ring, so proposes while he’s near death! It’s just like one of Bob’s 90’s rom coms.”

She chuckled and looked lovingly at Bob’s resting form and without thinking brushed back the curl of hair that fell on his forehead and smiled at the others. “He still likes those huh? I remember watching them with him and his ma. Her favourite was ‘While…”

“While You Were Sleepin’.” A southern voice croaked out and YFN’s head whipped back to look at Bob who was watching them with a small smile on his face.

“Robbie.” YFN breathed as she took in his cerulean blue eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do next so she blurt out, “Do you… do you want your glasses?”

He nodded and she picked them up and placed them gently on his face as he watched her closely.

“Hi YFN,” he said simply.

She smiled at him and wordlessly offered him water with a straw to his lips and he took a few sips. YFN was mesmerised when he caught a droplet on his lower lip with his tongue and blushed when she heard Phoenix snort a laugh.

“So Bob. How long have you been laying there pretending to be asleep?”

A wry smile spread across his face. “Long before you two came in.”

YFN gasped as she realised, he’d been awake when she’d been caressing his face. “You ass!” she cried out embarrassed and the other three burst out laughing.

“Ow ow ow.” Bob moaned and clutched his ribs at his outburst.

“Serves you right. God you probably think I’m some kind of creep.” YFN muttered.

Bob reached for her left hand and threaded their fingers together. “Not creepy if you love them.”

YFN looked at him in shock. “You… you love me?”

“Of course I do. I opened my eyes in that helicopter and saw you and I just knew. Accidently in love, same as you,” he grinned widely at her.

He lifted their hands and kissed the ring on her finger. “Accidently engaged as well. Although I don’t really remember if you said yes or not.” Bob chuckled.

YFN paled and ripped her hand away and hastily tried to remove his grandma’s engagement ring. “Shit. I knew you didn’t mean it.”

“Keep it on. Please.” Bob said firmly, and she stilled at his words. He gazed softly into her eyes, “YFN, as out of it as I was and as crazy as it is, I meant it. I meant every word.”

She frowned when he winced a little as he moved forward and cupped her face tenderly with his large hand. YFN looked reverently into his eyes and smiled as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she leant into it.

Suddenly, the sound of Faith Hill’s ‘This Kiss’ filled the room and they both turned to look at Hangman holding his phone up with a shit eating grin on his face. “What? Rom coms always have a song playing when the characters finally kiss.”

YFN watched Phoenix tip her head back laughing, and Bob snorted and rolled his eyes at their friend’s idiocy. She thought the stupid moment was perfect and exactly like the movies, so she pressed her lips to her distracted fiancé’s and kissed him for the first time. Bob hilariously squeaked out loud and his eyes widened comically, and she giggled against his lips before he finally got with the program and kissed her back.

……

5 months later

Bob stood in his dress whites under the simple arbour of flowers, calm but excited while he waited patiently for YFN’s presence so he could put another ring on her finger.

This time fully conscious.

“Well Bob. You called it. The day we ejected, you said the one would fall out of the sky, and she did.” Phoenix his ‘best woman’ smiled warmly at him.

He smirked back at her. “I’m so glad my dick didn’t freeze off.”

Hangman, who was Bob’s other groomsman, snorted from beside them. “Well we’re all aware it works. You fucked a baby into her in record time.” And Phoenix elbowed him in the ribs and Bob chuckled.

“I hope you and YFN like the song I picked for the ceremony.” Hangman said, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Bob sighed. The decision to let him pick the music was probably going to come back and bite them in the ass. “It better not be ‘White Wedding’ or ‘Like a Virgin’ or somethin’,” he moaned, and Hangman winked at him.

Phoenix snickered. “Don’t worry Bob. Bagman did good. You’re both gonna love it.”

The celebrant tapped them on the shoulder signalling the ceremony was about to start.

Bob gasped when he turned to face the end of the isle and saw YFN beaming at him. She looked breathtakingly beautiful. A huge smile overtook his face when he realised that she was wearing a replica of the dress in ‘The Wedding Singer’. YFN had started watching 90’s rom coms with him, just like she had when they were kids, and that movie was his favourite.

And then the music started.

A stupid grin spread over both of their faces as they gazed adoringly at one another, and they burst into laughter at Hangman’s choice.

Come on, come on, jump a little higher Come on, come on, if you feel a little lighter Come on, come on, we were once upon a time in love We’re accidentally in love Accidentally in love Accidentally in love Accidentally in love Accidentally in love Accidentally in love Accidentally in love Accidentally in love…

[chemistryread]

she is both hellfire and holy water

- part III

you should take it as a compliment, that I'm talking to everyone here but you

jake seresin

part II

part IV

callsign: scorcher

disclaimers/tags: female!aviator!reader. jake is a needy loverboy who wants to be loved. slowburn and angst.

a/n: sweet, kind reminder i don't know much about the navy and my research is lazily done. suspension of disbelief! a few things: if you don't like love triangles, i wouldn't worry. rooster's behavior is better explained in the next part, which finally includes scorcher's pov. i'm in love with loverboy jake struggling. anyway, this chapter is such a tease i might just post the next one tomorrow, that one’s juicy. when i tell you these two are a slowburn…please be patient with them! that's it, have fun :)

tagging: @thedroneranger @shanimallina87 @peakascum @cherrycola27 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @untoldshortsofthefandoms

Jake's pretty proud of this Hail Mary.

A week later, you've warmed up nicely to him.

Thanks to that one day he put a little more effort in, and a few other late nights talking, you're capable of exchanging more than nods to each other over the table during breakfast.

You had even picked him for your team in a training exercise, for the first time ever. Sure, Bradshaw had pulled the other short straw to be captain and he quickly took Trace and Floyd from you. But he was your first choice when their names were crossed out, counts for something. Especially because he gets to see Rooster's mustache almost turn upside-down with his complete beffudlement.

With Javy on his side, and having reached amicable grounds with the rest of the Dagger Squad, he didn't expect to make any more real connections.

And he certainly never thought he would see the day where the two of you leave Penny's bar early to grab a pizza and eat it by yourselves at the base's kitchen, before the rest of the group could come home and steal any slices.

Your phone sits between you and him, an eighties playlist that you had promised he would love playing. He did love it, but he's unsure if the songs are good or if he's being overpowered by the great feeling that comes from you saying he would love something, the idea that you might have picked up on his likes and dislikes. Paid attention.

The entire squad is suspicious of your sudden change of heart. They ask Jake what dirt he has on you all the time, and if he knows that blackmailing is a crime.

All you do is shrug, leaving them with no answers. He likes it so much. Let them wreck their brains over it.

He's starting to slip up, from time to time, however.

Like this morning, you were on the air and he called you honey. Not a drop of teasing in his voice. Just pure affection.

"Can you tell me where, honey? I can't see anything."

Cackles exploded through the comms.

Rooster is the loudest. "Don't fall for that, Scorch, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Should I remind you of his callsign?"

"No need, Rooster. There's no danger there, the only way that happens is if I get real cool about a lot of weird shit real fast." More laughs, and he feels the start of a migraine. "Plus, I'm dead. Too late. Can't help you, hun."

Heat creeps up his neck. Embarrassment and tenderness mixed together.

Jake's not stupid. He knows what's going on with him. The thing is, he doesn't want to ruin a good thing.

He's aware of you, not the girl to easily slip and fall for just anyone. If you ever considered a guy at The Hard Deck, he didn't see it.

You're hard to break through. No one is getting to your heart unless you decide they can, and for you to get to that decision, well, it's a long and arduous journey.

It's not that he wouldn't try, always up for a challenge, it's that he already knows he won't make it. You are no challenge.

There's a certain aspect of dating that is dehumanizing. Seeing a person as something to win over, conquer. Part of the game, he knows. The girls who come up to him have the same glint in their eyes, he's just as much of a conquest to them. Even playing field.

That's the only way he knows how to get far with someone. How else does it start? This is what works for him, always has.

But you're the real thing. If he even attempted playing with you, you'd probably laugh in his face and never speak to him again. Maybe call him predictable. You've made yourself bigger than any of that. Above it all. God, is there any opening for him in your life?

On the total opposite end, sits Jake. Almost every girl with a breathtaking smile and a sweet personality has his heartstrings wrapped around their fingers, the warmest parts of him hoping they'll be the one to make him feel the same way his mom and dad do about each other.

While he - as much as he would never say it out loud - just wants to be loved, you could live with or without. Seemingly.

You're not really the same, and it scares him. If he acted on what he feels, you'd be given entirely too much power to destroy him, and the lasting effects could be irreversible. Destroy a good thing instead of herself. That's what Maverick said.

So he tries to focus back on the programme. Do they really need to be back here again? He could be on leave, on a different beach. Different girls on his mind.

It's not life or death. Honestly, you're clouding his mind and it is much more interesting than whatever Warlock wants your group to get on top of.

He isn't one to waste time overanalyzing people's behavior, but he's committed to putting every piece of you together. That's how he got here so fast, solving you in seven days. Sorta.

Maverick's words echo in his mind constantly.

He's been taking notes.

-> you give in when you know you can trust how you feel about someone (what exactly does that mean???)

-> work friendships are safe (not too many expectations, less room for disappointment)

-> you keep even friends at a certain distance

-> loyal, once you see good intentions you'll stick to someone's side no matter what

-> afraid of betrayal or being tricked (haven't seen it yet but don't want to find out what happens)

-> values trust and honesty

Phoenix is the one you allow closest. It figures, she might be the second most upstanding person in the squad after you.

A friend, definitely, but not a best friend. You'd vent to her, but not ask for help. That's too far.

Bradley is the main target of your jokes, as you are his, the one each of you go to for pairings at training, game nights or at the Hard Deck. Your first round together as a team, everyone was sure you would at least hook up once, but it never happened.

The rest of them is more or less the same, people you like and would obviously risk your life for, but not close enough that you would disclose any personal information that doesn't serve a clear purpose.

It's particular, the way you act.

Not mean-spirited, you don't distrust anyone there, you just, in the same vein, don't trust. You laugh with them, fight by their side, listen to their struggles and help if you can. But there's always a wall, at least one, that keeps them from truly getting close.

He hasn't worked out yet if you think it's for yours or their sake.

Captain Mitchell seems to be the one true exception. You talk about him with unabashed devotion and grattitude, like he saved your life. (He asked if that's what happened and you answered no, but did not divulge more). Even said, once, that he might be the only person in the Navy who could break your heart if he ever did anything you didn't expect of him.

"And still, he'd probably get a pass."

"Jesus, you're not in love with him, are you?"

You throw the volleyball at his stomach, making him curl.

"No, Seresin, there are other feelings in the world. Say that again and your crotch is next."

One afternoon, resting after lunch, Maverick sneaks behind him and steals the piece of paper he's often reading, and rereading. So fast for an old man.

Green eyes light up in a mix of shock, amusement and pride, he thinks. It's obvious that he knows, after that night at the bar and the many questioning looks he has thrown Jake's way seeing the both of you become closer these past few days. But he only says one thing, with a strong hold on his shoulder and shaking the notes in his face, dead serious. "Never let her see this."

He almost runs after the captain to explain it is not what he thinks. But what would be the point? He would never believe it. All that's left is hoping he doesn't mention it to you.

Later, that same day, he's following you around the gym to make sure a certain someone doesn't spill his secret to you.

Training together has become a bit of a habit.

Usually, if the two of you were there at the same time, you'd shove your earbuds in as deep as possible and ignore him completely. He didn't mind. Your eyes avoided his, which in turn gave him the perfect opportunity to watch you bend, squat and sweat. Not in a weird way, just, you know, admiring.

You continue to be a huge distraction, and it should make him mad, force him to work out especifically when you're not. But he adores helping you up on the pull-up bar. Watching you do half-splits, shamelessly staring while he drinks his protein shake, the most satisfactory little snickering face you make when you get flustered and tell him to fuck off. Being your spotter and delighting in the small dose of trust you bestow on him.

As a reward, you make fun of him as much as you can. Taste his shake and fake gags. Ask him if he runs marathons with the rest of his frat, where he's hiding his snap back with the Longhorns logo. Sometimes you'll copy him and just watch, biting back a teasing smile, waiting until he finishes a series to shake your head and laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing, you did good."

"Damn right I'm good."

"I said you did good."

"Same thing."

He likes it best when you're winding down on the treadmill, walking slowly and enjoying the music playing on the bluetooth speakers.

Or now, when you're both panting on the floor, sweaty and worn down, discussing which one of the endings for the movie Clue is the best.

"I like when Tim Currry plays the bad guy."

You huff to blow your hair away from your face.

"Doesn't he always? It's predictable."

"More than Ms. Scarlet? Oh, charismatic smart attractive woman can't be good, no."

"It's just sexier when she's also a killer."

"Won't argue with that."

Your hair is still over your eyes and you move to push it away at the same time he does. Knuckles knock together, his hand retracts but you smile. It's not awkward.

Not until Bradshaw bursts into the room, stomping feet and overwhelming body cologne disrupting the moment tragically.

"There you are! With…Hangman. Again."

Jake's proud your closeness gets under the man's skin. It means he sees something in it.

"No need to get your panties in a twist, bud, you too can look like this if you a try a lot, lot, lot harder. Someday. That smell, though, is a hard pass. I'd focus on learning some class."

They're not not friends. It's just easier to keep up the dynamic. (And he's not about to fade into the background just because you two have a more established friendship).

"Boys, please." Belittling. "What do you need, Roo?"

His muscles flex instinctively at the caring turn your tone takes when addressing Bradley directly.

"The caddy." Oh. That's your prized baby. Immediately, a resounding 'no' comes from your lips, and an ironic smile follows it. Jake chuckles to himself. "Please-"

"Give me one good argument and you can have it for an hour."

"An hour? That's-"

"Take it or leave it."

Bradshaw gives you a name. Someone he met at the golf club, or something, but definitely not the girl from the Taco Bell line. Truthfully, he was stupid to send his car to the shop on his day off and now he has no ride for his date. Deal with it, that's what Jake would've said.

"Oh, I do like her. She's hot."

He smiles at your informality, unguarded.

"Very hot."

Bradley is nearly wailing to you.

Despite the comedic sight right in front of him, Jake can't pull his eyes away from you. Normally, Rooster's too loud to ignore, but it's like he's not even there. Instead, he watches your profile as you look up at the fellow aviator, locks sticking to your neck, eyebrow hair a mess, forehead lines stressed in deep thought.

Damp shirt clinging to your waist, perfectly following the curve of your breasts, long enough it almost covers your shorts. Your thighs spill out of them, so inviting to his teeth.

The other man clears his throat, and is met with a daring glare. Yes, I'm eyeing your friend. C'mon, what are you gonna do about it?

But you mistake Bradley's intrusion for impatience, and give him the answer he was hoping for.

"Fine. You dirty it, you clean it." Standing up, you strut to your coat hanging by one of the machines and reach into one of the pockets, pulling out the keys. Before Rooster can take them, you snag them back into your palm, holding his gaze in a threat. "You owe me."

A stupid wide grin on his tanned face and he's thanking you, quickly laying a kiss on your forehead. You recoil, nose twisted up.

"What?"

"The, uhm…The cologne. It is kind of bad."

A vindicated Jake Seresin explodes into laughter from the ground. Your foot digs into his ribs lightly, but he sees the smirk tugging on your lips. A passing moment of camaraderie. Has he mentioned pride yet?

"Really? You too?" Shiny shoulders shrug at him. "How bad is it?"

"Just drive with the windows down, maybe it'll kinda…waft away."

There's a sympathetic look on your face, but the teasing smile never leaves your lips. A supportive friend who knows an idiot when she sees one. You're too nice.

"Or cancel it. I'm sure she has better things to do. And you don't want to make a nice woman throw up on her pretty clothes at the sight of you, do you? Smell! I meant smell."

He can't help himself, displaying what he is sure to be the most insufferable grin Rooster's ever seen.

With a finger wagging between the both of you and a painfully discontended expression, he's about to finally say something about it, but you cut him off. Spinning him around with a snort.

"Go. Before she cancels on you."

He huffs and starts walking away.

Jake is barely one relieved sigh in when the blonde turns back, sprints to your side and hugs you again, making a strong point to kiss your temple and practically rub the cheap smell on you. Your arms are close to your chest, slapping him away and protecting yourself. If it wasn't for your genuine laughter, he would've pushed him off of you.

This time he actually leaves, but not without sending a cutting look to the man on the floor, readjusting the aviators up the bridge of his nose.

You're jokingly scrubbing yourself, pretending to be disgusted. Maybe you would be, if you had seen the territorial intentions of your so-called friend. He wants to say something, almost does, but refrains when he thinks it would come across possessive.

Gathering your stuff to leave, Jake's mind whirls for a reason to keep you around.

"The day has come, Rooster has a date and neither of us do."

Right?

You make a weird face, confused at his sentence. Rooster usually has a date a week, if not more. Certainly more often than you do.

"Uhm, Saturday is right around the corner. And so is the Hard Deck. You'll be fine." His nose twists up the same way yours did moments ago, but he quickly repostures, faint smile on his lips. "Plus, I think he needs it more than you or me."

He stands up now, dragging his feet while he picks up his phone. You've already picked up his bottle for him. Cursing under his breath, the only things he brought to the gym, too efficient. He'll have to think of that next time.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, he gets clingy when he doesn't have a date for too long. As long as he's got a petite blonde to distract him, I don't have to hear his musings about falling in love with the one. Marriage, twins, Golden Retriever, beach house, et al."

You talk about it as if all those terms started with capital letters. Entities. Hence the 'et al'.

The snort that comes out of you is dismissive. Jake sees an opportunity.

"You don't think about that stuff?"

An even more dismissive shrug.

He steps closer, knocking knees almost, towering over you. C'mon. I don't believe you.

You don't cower, rolling your eyes. But relaxed, confident.

"At the risk of sounding like a big fat liar, I swear it's not something I'm actively seeking out. If it happens, sure, great. But it probably won't, it never does. Sometimes I feel like I wasn't born for it. Wired differently, I don't know."

He tilts his head at that. It's a strange way of thinking. Love is the most essential part of being human.

Oh, Maverick said something about that, didn't he? You're scared of getting exposed as something other than holy, as if you surpassed human needs. Maybe you think love is a weakness.

The lack of space makes you uncomfortable, and you call his name. Softly.

"Darlin', you're like everybody else. It'll happen to ya."

"Are we a hundred-percent sure? Maybe I'm, like, immune. Lucky me."

Whispering. He can smell the vanilla from his shake on your breath.

"One of these days, someone will catch your eye and then you'll have to watch your tongue."

Your smile grows so big. He sees the dimples. A pale blotch in your front tooth. Red skin in the crook of your nostrils, likely from the dry air. The tiniest spark in your cloudy eyes. This is the perfect promixity, to him. Maybe closer, if you allowed it.

"Isn't that a quote from Pride and Prejudice?"

His turn to shrug. "I have sisters."

Towel over his shoulder, dramatic exit.

"Sure."

As planned, you follow right behind him. Glad you can't see the dumb grin on his face.

"You stink of Rooster."

"Ugh, dick."

"Since neither of us has plans, want to watch a movie in the TV room tonight?"

If he asked himself months ago if he ever thought of so boldly making that invite he would've laughed, because yeah, of course. The difference is the bumbling hope you'll agree to it.

"How about Clue? Put to test who was right about the best ending. Bet on it?"

Stopping before you need to take different paths, he holds back the urge to say it's a date.

"My kind of girl."

Beautiful, lovely, soul-crushing eyeroll. You shake hands, committing to the bet, and leave with no more words, just painful smiles.

At night, a surprise Phoenix joins you for your movie night. When you're helping him with the popcorn, you whisper something about her being in a bit of a mood, but don't say much else.

You decide to resolve the weird tension by texting Bob, and he now sits on the floor in front of the couch the three of you were sharing.

It's not what he planned, but it's still fun. Since everyone in the room has seen it before, you suggest that they write their favorite ending on a piece of paper so your bet has more weight to it. You and him get one minute and a half at the end to sway the others' opinion to your side.

Natasha lightens up as the movie goes on, and both of you laugh non-stop at the cheesy jokes. Floyd and him laugh at both of you.

"Hey, they are surprisingly timeless for an eighties movie! It's charming."

"Trace, you wouldn't know charm if it knocked you off the air."

Before she can answer, you jump in. "Seresin, a toothpick trick and an over-the-top accent can hardly be called charm. You wouldn't know a scam if it knocked you off your try-hard cowboy boots."

Phoenix's middle finger is in plain sight behind you, and Bob's red from how hard he's giggling. You're innocently sucking on your metal straw, batting eyelashes.

He knows you're going light on him, sees it in your eyes actually looking up at him this time, scouting for his reaction. Gratifying when your nose is scrunched up, corner of your lips raising slightly. Pulling on an invisible string, seeing if he'll pull back.

Jake responds by nodding his head, a toothy grin to show you got him with that one.

"Does it matter that it's a scam, if the reviews are all positive?"

"All?"

Your arms cross in front of your chest, questioning him. He sighs, exaggeratedly.

"If you want to leave a complaint, that's fine, but you gotta try it first, angelfood."

"Gross."

"What Bob said."

Yeah, but he doesn't miss the way your cheek caves in, probably biting the inside so you don't smile for him.

The next few minutes go by like this. Bob makes light commentary that is surprisingly funny, the rest of you chuckle at his words, and Jake throws a subtle, long glance your way. Every time he does, you look back at him, with a sincere tight-lipped smile. Casual. (Except for the hair is his arms standing up when you do it, guaranteeing this is anything but casual. To him, anyway.) Cycle repeats. It's thrilling.

His good mood dies when Rooster walks in. He's not alone in it, though.

As per usual, Bob is the only one who doesn't seem to notice any weird vibes, greeting the new guest with an excited head nod.

Trace readjusts on the seat. Your dimples make an appearance for the spacious figure throwing himself down on the loveseat by the door, but you go back to the movie almost instantly.

Everyone is watching the film quietly, when he finally interrupts.

"Is no one gonna ask about my da-"

"Nobody wants to know, big head."

It's harsh, but controlled, a warning smile on your face. Jake wonders what he's missing. Are you jealous?

"Mhm." Rough fingers massage the old pillow, and he takes a mental note to never touch it again. "She was very receptive…"

A symphony of 'no's and groans rain on Bradshaw, and unfortunately you steal the fluffy cushion Jake was hugging to toss at his head. It's a perfect hit, so maybe not that regrettable.

"Fine, alright, okay!" He laughs, easing himself back in the room's good graces. Most of them. "Hey, Scorch?"

Your mouth is half-full of popcorn, focus back on the TV, trying your best to ignore the nuisance but he doesn't seem to take the hint.

"What?"

"We should talk."

"Now? I'm watching the movie."

Jake finally turns his attention to Rooster, who's already watching him. Oh, I understand. A while ago, he would've waltzed into that room and taken his spot next to you, joking with Trace and Floyd as he was doing. He's jealous.

Strong, uncovered arms stretch across the back of the couch.

Phoenix takes the image in, dark irises boring straight into his eyes and carrying a dying wish to punch him square in the jaw, before looking away with an unreadable expression, but that's hardly atypical.

His gaze shifts to the man on the loveseat. He sits up.

"I forgot to park the caddy in the right spot. That morning California sun is going to be killer."

Rooster basically sings it.

You lean away from the couch and he misses the warmth, just a little. His instinct is to pull you back, snake his free arm around your waist and sit you back down. Instead, he shoves popcorn in his mouth.

"What? Jesus, Bradley! I don't ask for much-"

"We can go now real quick, just gotta show me where it is 'cause I have no idea-"

"Nat knows."

This time, when you sit back, your bare neck - cortesy of your hair being up - skims his arm. Briefly. And then you make a decision, to lean into it, sinking down on the couch.

It's a clear choice. You're staying right here, with him.

He would smile, triumphant, but Trace has a terribly wounded look on her face that means this isn't that simple.

"But-"

You and Phoenix play a dramatically long game of staring before you sigh.

With a pat to his back, you draw Floyd's attention.

"Don't let him cheat."

Pointing to the folded pieces of paper, you don't even look at him before walking out the door, Bradley on your tail.

Natasha turns in right after you leave, and he honestly can't deal with his night turning into a date with Bob. Not that in another life he wouldn't, it's just not worth it if you're not there. Too busy exploring the base's garage with Rooster.

Before they turn off the TV, he asks who won the bet. It doesn't really matter, he just wants an excuse to look for you in the morning.

"Uhm, 'Wadsworth is bad and the gay guy is not actually gay'."

"So she did. Awesome."

"Yeah, I'd like to see you beat her at something other than flying one of these days. Actually, I wouldn't like that. No offense."

"None taken, Bobby."

He mimicks the pat you gave the mousy man before putting the popcorn bowl in the sink and walking to his quarters, admittedly disappointed. He tries to shake it off as he walks the hallways.

Javy's back from his emergency leave tomorrow and despite missing his friend, he is glad to have the room for himself for one more night. Undoubtedly, if Coyote were here right now, he would've called all of his shit out.

You've had this thing with Scorcher since she didn't acknowledge your dart skills that first night at The Hard Deck, remember? And then she predicted Mav's inverted dive move during the exercise. (He remembers your voice going huskier when you said, "Rooster, you might wanna keep your eyes high in the sky".) Then, she didn't flirt back. You've been achingly staring at her across rooms, hoping she'll look back, ever since. Now that you finally got the woman to speak, you refuse to make a move? What are you doing?

Or something like that.

But with no one to put him in his place, the storm happens freely inside his brain.

Your conversation from earlier, everything he learned about you in this very short amount of time, he mulls all of it over.

Not made for love, or whatever you said. He turns roughly on the bed.

It's a clear, screaming sign that says "I won't love you back".

He thinks it's all bullshit, of course. Some pep talk you give yourself to avoid dealing with the real stuff. But he also knows you've been hurt, and love is not a thing you've been shown a lot of.

It's understandable that you'd turn away, deny it. You don't know what's the protocol. And if you can't tell which parts go where, how can you trust it? You might have to ask for help, and that is the last thing you plan on doing.

So you forego love completely.

But anyone would say that not 'doing' love solely because you don't know how is crazy.

To deprive yourself of such an intoxicating experience that spits you back out into life a litte more worn, but also appreciated. Someone loved at least a part of you, as a reward for letting them see it. That feeling is irreplaceable.

Maybe Bradshaw could teach you that. Maybe he can show you all the good sides of love.

A nice date. The first time you get wasted together. Slowly figuring out what makes you so you. What makes you squirm, and whimper, and laugh when you shouldn't.

He knows what this burning in his chest and the hammering in his temple is. He doesn't feel good enough. There's always the better one. Never him.

Even if you were dedicated to finding someone worthy of the sacrifices and efforts demanded by love, you certainly wouldn't do a double take at him. It's not you. (He lets that echo in his mind a couple times. Maybe he'll learn.)

Again, Maverick's words sound off in his head. Easy to enjoy the company of those you know how to feel about. No danger there. There are other feelings in the world. Maybe you don't even like him that much, he entertains you when you're bored, and nothing else. Safe. The thought causes a cold shiver to run down his spine.

He wants to break your shell and drive you crazy. You want him as another work friend.

His point is, you're a complicated person. One he likes, very much. And he doesn't want to scare you away. So he'll keep his adoration quiet for now, forever if he has to, while he works on possibly killing it.

Another girl will come along. Always does. The right one, this time.

[stormikins]

Mass Effect Trilogy Tag

tagged by @nowandthane thank you!! Warning I ramble a bit in this lol

I am a fan since: 2017, I got it for Christmas in 2016 so I always just say '17

Favorite Game of the series: By virtue of simply replaying it the most, three. I really love the combat in it so I've played it near thirty times? But all time fave would have to 1 because of the aesthetic, tone, and story. There's something about first discovering a world which is what me1 is about.

MShep or Femshep? Gotta go with Femshep. I have played both, its just hard to capture the male shepard image I have in my head in the character creator so Femshep it is.

Earthborn, Colonist, or Spacer: earthborn! My main Shepard Jenn is earthborn so that's what I'm going with. Though, I have numerous Shepard's are various background combinations. I have feelings about each background trust me

Biotics or tech: Both! Though I really do love biotics, you can do some cool stuff with them, setting up and detonating both biotic and tech explosions.

Paragon or Renegade: I have to repeat what nowandthane said, paragon choices, renegade dialogue.

Favorite Class: Sentinel. I love the versatility of the class, but I do have an affection for Infiltrator because that's what got me through me2 on insanity.

Favorite Companion: Tali. By story value, Javik. He's like one of the most important characters

Least Favorite Companion: Javik, throw your attitude out the airlock. IM JOKING! (he has every reason to be like he is. I love him very much) Liara is my answer though only because I don't like some of the story choices the devs did with her. (ex: why does she have Shepard's armor in a display case when i didn't even romance her??? I can't mention this at all??)

My squad selection: For Jenn's playthrough: Wrex/Tali in me1. Garrus/Mordin/Miranda generally in me2. Thane and Miranda/Samara for the collector base. Kaidan/Javik/James in me3. Of course, I mix it up based on story aspects and the difficulty settings. But me3 is pretty fixed bc I always play on insanity.

Favorite in-game Romance: Tali and Garrus. I'm a sucker for awkward, wet cat of a man like Garrus is. But Tali's romance man.... her parting line to Shepard during the beam run "I have a home" makes me insane actually

Other pairings I like: Obligatory Nihlus/Shepard/Kal (and the duos within in this throuple) mention here. Other than that, Joker/Miranda and Joker/James, Ashley/Garrus, and Shepard/Wrex, I could list a whole lot so I'll keep it to those ships lol

Favorite NPC: Nihlus and Kal'Reegar for sure. Victus and of course Niftu Cal our favorite biotic god.

Favorite Antagonist: Saren. He's the best one that we get in all three games (Harby could have been number one if they did anything with him in three but that's a rant for another time lmao)

Favorite Mission: Haestrom/Tali's Loyalty mission because that's when I get to see Kal <3 and blow up a colossus with the Cain. Also, the Collector Ship mission I have to mention because it's frankly the only mission besides the two previously stated where I've loaded up the save to play it on insanity when I'm bored. It's fun. Of course, this is with the Infiltrator.

Favorite Loyalty Mission: Tali for numerous reasons. Kal mention here. But I love the insight into Quarian culture we get. Also we see that fire in her when she's talking to the Board which I always appreciate. Along with her dialogue at the end, "I got better, Shepard. I got you." and then on the ship afterwards, "I don't think life is about what we deserve." I love her so much.

Favorite DLC: Leviathan. Only because of the horror aspect.

Control, Sythesis, or Destroy? Destroy. I have so many issues with the ending and that's the least worst option in my opinion so. (I too ignore that it wipes out the Geth and Edi fuck that)

Favorite Weapon: The M-90 Cain or the M-99 Saber aka the "Big Iron". Lancer in three was my favorite weapon before I found the Saber. Special mention to my bud the Mattock, I have been convinced of its glory. I do not think the Harrier is better anymore lol which my brother would be happy to hear

Favorite Place: me1 Citadel my BELOVED.

A quote I like Quotes I Like: The ENTIRETY of Sovereign's dialogue on Virmire GOD ITS SO GOOD!!!! / "Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. The silence is your answer." / "Does this unit have a soul?" / "Just followed your example, Shepard. Yell loud enough and eventually someone will come over to see what all the fuss is about." / "I won't let fear compromise who I am." / "I MADE A MISTAKE!" / "Help me out here, Shepard. The line between friend and foe is getting a little blurry from where I stand." / There are so many great quotes in these games I could go on and on but I'll stop myself

No pressure tags: @spacebunshep @jtownnn

[team-frightfur]

Imo, Shark vs IV round 1 (where Tron eggs IV on into throwing so he can brainwash Shark) is the peak of Zexal. Great duel, great animation, great characters, great buildup. It also establishes IV as a wet, beat-up, yet rabid and feral kitten. Just the sight of their raggedy fur and watery eyes makes you want to reach out and pet them but, the instant you get close enough, they latch onto your fingers with their teeth and try to kill you.

Shark vs IV round 2, otoh, is pretty bad. It's good in theory, but lacking in execution. Basically, Shark is having an identity crisis over being Nasch vs being Shark, so IV duels him to try and 'bring him back'.

This is actually really good because it makes the duel a redemptive foil to R1. IV was abused but, as Tron's son, was simultaneously deeply dedicated to his abuser. As a result, he was forced to bend himself painfully out of shape to (try and) please Tron. In reality, though, his efforts to please Tron were bad for everyone involved. III, IV, V, and Tron ALL suffered for not standing up to their abuser.

Shark isn't abused, but he IS loyal to his past life's soldiers, kingdom, and the Barian world. OTOH, he also clearly hates the thought of hurting his friends, including IV. As a result, he, too, is bending himself out of shape (and into Nasch). Thus, IV trying to 'bend him back' is his way of thanking Shark.

I love this! In theory! Just a few issues.

First off, IV keeps on talking about friendship. He and Shark are, like, barely friends. They've duelled together Once.

Secondly, it seems like IV lost all his personality traits along with his villainy. This is fair IF you consider his sadism as a coping mechanism (he was lashing out from his father's abuse and trying to feel powerful/in control/ worthwhile) since it would frame his new niceness as healing. Thing is, even if that WAS the case, having IV recover offscreen is extremely underwhelming. Have that shit happen onscreen! Show him struggling with his sadism! Don't Yuri him!

Thirdly, having IV die after failing to reach Shark comes off as more meanspirited than tragic because it wastes IV as a character. This guy had the best duel in all of Zexal, dropped off the face of the earth for 50 eps, came back for (1) tag duel against a Jellyfish Man, and then got killed by Shark. III and V don't even grieve him too heavily, they just pretend to mourn so they can give Yuma a pep talk!

Anyway, Here's Stuff We Needed in Zexal: I Can't Believe They Did IV Like That Edition

1. Shark having his own weird barian flashback dreams of his past as early as Zexal I. This not only matches Rio and foreshadows his past life as Nasch, but also allows the writers to develop his relationship with Dumon, his men, and his kingdom.

2. Rio should have been conscious during her first coma (the one IV caused), causing her to develop an emotional dependence on Shark. Since their parents are dead, Shark is her lifeline. Once he gives up on her, she's finished. This explains why she switches to being Merag so easily. For years, 'I go where Shark goes' has been her reality and she needs to unlearn that.

(I know that Rio is implied to switch to being Merag first but, in canon, she has, like, no reason to do that. Which is weak.)

(If you want to make things even rougher, make Shark's chronic class skipping a result of his trying to support Rio. This makes her feel guilty for 'ruining his high school life', further encouraging her to sacrifice her own 'life' as Rio for him.

3. A joke episode after Rio's second coma (from being possessed by Abyss) where IV turns out to be visiting Rio in secret (but only when Shark isn't around). Shark finds out about this 'mystery visitor' and stakes out Rio's room for three whole days. When the inevitable confrontation happens, IV swears to Shark that he'll protect Rio alongside him, causing the boys to form a Rio Protection Squad. This not only leads nicely into their duel with Jellyfish Man, but also provides an opportunity to develop IV, III and V in a 'normal' setting.

Example: Shark gets into a motorbike accident on the way to the hospital. While Shark is fine, his locket breaks in the crash. IV finds it and has it fixed, returning it to Shark shortly afterwards. Then, to pay IV back since "I hate owing favours" Shark offers to spot IV for something.

(Bonus: this makes Shark's act of throwing away his pendant even stronger as, rather than throwing away his past with his parents (who are dead) he's throwing away his past with a living friend.)

IV proceeds to stare blankly. Years of Middle Child Syndrome, Deranged Revenge Schemes, and Severe Parental Abuse have made a 'normal life' feel foreign to him. As a result, he has no hobbies or preferences (aside from the...sadomasochism).

Cue an annoyed, tired, and weary Shark watching IV wander around an amusement park. Somehow, they end up duelling a clown.

Unbeknownst to them, III and V are both stalking the pair . III is happy to see that IV and Shark made up, while V recognises that, in failing to stand up to Tron, he failed III and IV as a brother (and Tron as a son). You know, the big theme of his duel with Kaito in Zexal I (Where Kaito is like 'It's because I still love my Dad that I have to punch him out of all this villain bullshit' and V is like 'you have such wisdom. I wish it wasn't too late to sock my dad...').

Ultimately, IV reveals that he hates amusement parks, causing Shark to push him into oncoming traffic. As a fight breaks out, III admits to V that he wanted to try out the rides with IV. V smiles and says he'll take them both sometime.

The implication is that IV liked the park but wanted something to hold over Shark, nodding to his social awkwardness, communication issues, and lingering sadistic tendencies.

4. A scene where, after IV dies, we see III and V genuinely grieve.

Example: Recall that III and V spent ages separated from V. Recall that, once V and Tron got them back, they were stuck in an abusive situation. Recall that they only escaped that situation like, 3 months ago. One way to communicate the tragedy of this is to have them flashback to happy moments, but all those happy moments are either from when III and IV are VERY young + the last three months. This visually hammers in the tragedy of the situation. V, in his eyes, wasted his time with IV. III, in his eyes, will never get to have a future with IV. IV, in trying to save Shark from going through the same pain as he went through (being bent out of shape) sacrificed the future with his brothers he was fighting for.

As for time, idk. Just. Cut the Tomato guy or someshit. There's so much useless filler in Zexal. if Zexal had HALF the planning power of Arc V they could EASILY have built up this plot.

Sorry, I just. Needed to rant. IV is my favourite character but he got done SO dirty.

[johnconstantinesdick]

Op your post and tags about Artemis doing damage control is absolutely delightful.

I mean, from Titan's curse we know Artemis was trying to get the council to prepare for the war, recognizing what was happening, even before the war gods actively acted.

Also Apollo getting a ping when a new possible child of the prophecy gets born actually makes sense. He knew how old Thalia was, he's also a god of truth besides just prophecy and during the years of the Hunt functioning I doubt the only big three kids to join are Bianca and Thalia. The chances are really small for that to happen.

It could also be Roman demigods, since literally anyone can join and it's better to be safe than sorry. And since it was 'child of the eldest gods' and not specifically the big three, she might have even counted in children of Demeter, since Hestia and Hera don't have (in Hera's case demigod) children.

About anon that Artemis acted predatory: bestie do you want the prophecy to happen? Do you want to risk Olympus falling?

And the average life expectancy of a Greek demigod is like 13 years old, were it not for them, the squad at Westover would have little chances of survival at the age they were at. Also statistically, the Hunt even helps to get demigods the chance to reach the camp by killing the monsters.

In conclusion: was it sketchy? Sure. Was she lying tho? Not at all.

From the few Hunters we got the chance to meet, sure, Bianca was really young when she died, but Phoebe and Zoë were thousands of years old. Let's do the math. If Zoë had been with the Hunt for let's say 3 000 years, and Phoebe for 2 500. Bianca died at 13 I think? Even these three on their own puts the average life expectancy of a Hunter to 1 838 years. And that's a bit higher than the chances of Greek demigods.

Artemis literally is doing the absolute most of a damage control.

(also personal headcanon that Artemis sends the Hunters to the camp instead of being on their own so they were safe from Orion since he usually targets them when they're alone, and being without Artemis who even got stolen and physically cannot help would be quite a chance to miss)

I love your username!

It always interests me how out of all of the gods Artemis is the most involved in the everyday lives of demigods. Mr. D helps run the camp, but she spends her time with her hunters, fighting with them and forging relationships. She’s notable in TTC because when the gang is fighting Atlas with her, she feels like a comrade more than a capricious god.

She’s not above criticism, but even taking my Great Prophecy Damage Control read out of the situation, she does more to directly help demigods than like. Any other god. So when I see wild criticism of her like “if Artemis hadn’t recruited the girl who admitted she might have destroyed Olympus if allowed to age then Hera wouldn’t have targeted Thalia so much. She was really just mad Thalia foreswore her only family in Jason. Isn’t Artemis so bad and evil???” It’s kind of like. Why are you bending over backwards to vilify one of the only gods consistently fighting and advocating for our heroes.

(Btw yes that is an actual take I saw in a fic.)

And you’re right on the Hunters ages!! Like we have several girls that have been around for thousands of years!!!! We have like five named Greek demigods that have lived to the age of eighteen in the original series, and over half of them proceeded to die anyway. Artemis is obviously doing something right to keep her girls alive this long.

With the fic idea… I may just have to write it when I get a chance. If I remember right, I don’t think the Romans were in line for the first Great Prophecy anyway, but it would be so funny if Artemis was like… fuck that. If I have to keep cleaning up my dad and uncle’s messes then I’m going to clean up all of them and get more hunters out of it.

Anyway thank you for the ask! I had fun making the post but then the anons I got kind of soured it :\ so I’m glad you like my thoughts!

[obsessive-aspie-girl]

I came across THE ABSOLUTE BEST comment on an AO3 MCU fic!! The person who commented it even cited their sources proving what they were saying by turning part of the sentence into a link -- multiple times! Idk how to do that so I'll just leave a link to the original for anyone interested in those, and paste show off the comment here!

**Warning: Please mind the tags! Within the MCU you either hate this type of fic--and therefore comment--or you're still just a salty and full of rage as you were when it all first started going downhill in 2015. In other words: Civil War Team Iron Man.**

THE COMMENT (which was a reply to a hate comment about how "amazing" and "perfect" Captain America is):

"Yes, Steve Roger is all of those things. In the comics. 616 Steve can do things like defeat two other Super Soldiers when his Serum has been turned off. He's actually a Captain instead of it just being a stage name, due to, depending on the writer, either actually going to Officer School and blitzing through it, or receiving the equivalent of Officer School training while "on the job." In the comics, Steve Rogers earned his rank under the code name of Captain America, and his "secret identity" was that of the bumbling Private Rogers. MCU Cap actually is the bumbling Private Rogers, but is treated like a trained genius tactician undeservedly.

Comics Steve Rogers is also of far better moral character. He's the sort of person who would throw his shield to alter the trajectory of someone falling in order to avoid civilians being hurt. MCU Steve Rogers is never shown caring about the people hurt in Bucharest, and has no problems treating a German SWAT team the same way he did Crossbone's goons. When in the comics everyone finds out that it was Cap's evil Hydra clone who did all sorts of terrible things, Steve admits to HYDRA Cap that he's actually glad that, thanks to HYDRA Cap, people no longer trust him as much as they did in the past, as he's actually never been comfortable with people blindly trusting him or anyone else. MCU Steve demands that people blindly trust him to have their best intentions in mind. 616 Steve has enough willpower to break free of mind control straight away; MCU Steve got stuck in Wanda's illusions like everyone else.

Also, when 616 Tony isn't being written by stupid writers as a fascist, Steve is pretty much the founder and president of the Tony Stark Defence Squad. Anyone talks crap about him, Steve reminds them of how many people his tech and charity work has helped, and on a more personal level actually appreciates how much Tony has done for him instead of accepting it as his due for saving the world once a year.

Comics Steve is respected because he deserves it and has earned it; MCU Steve demands it like an angry toddler, claiming that he's a good man when in reality he's just not as big of an asshole as the Red Skull.

The sad part is, it would have been so easy to salvage Steve's character. Show him sending a coded message to JARVIS during WS, and later say Fury mention that Tony, even with his suits all blown up, was standing by to ensure that all the non-Hydra stuff was taken off the net so that no innocent SHIELD employees were hurt and no US secrets were leaked. About 5 seconds of footage.

Show him trying to contact Tony when Wanda talks crap about Ultron being just like him to prove her wrong, and getting concerned when there's no answer and heading back to Stark Tower just to be sure. Don't show him already be in the process of charging forwards and drawing back his fist to throw a punch at Tony before his chest piece ever arrives. Add two seconds of footage where Steve tiredly asks whether Tony can call another suit to pick him up from Siberia after their fight, and have that letter include an actual apology instead of Steve just trying to justify his actions. Give Wanda an actual redemption arc and have Steve feel like, even if she was HYDRA and people don't like her, she still deserves a chance to show she's not a monster like the Red Skull was. Show Wanda being horrified that the Hulk wandered into Johannesburg, and be reluctantly grateful to Tony that he stopped her from ultimately being responsible for the deaths that a rampaging Hulk would have caused.

Instead we have MCU Steve, who seems less and less heroic the more you think about his actions, and spoilt brat Wanda."

Link to original comment thread:

https://archiveofourown.org/comments/188589974

[swissboyhisch]

Celebrations

Liked by yourinsta, nhl and others

edmontonoilers: Captain celebrating his team winning AND yourinsta becoming his girlfriend! Thank you to everyone who was there to witness something amazing ❤️ tagged: mcdavid97 and yourinsta

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mcdavid97: I love you y/n ❤️

user: I saw it! It was the sweetest thing ever ❤️

user: STREAMED IT! CONNOR YOU AND Y/N ARE GOALS!

user: AHHHHHH

yourinsta: Thank you for everything edmontonoilers ❤️❤️ ❤️

edmontonoilers: Congrats again

user: Everything is perfect now!

zstrome: It was so cute! I've been waiting for this since I met you both

dylstrome19: Glad I got to witness two of my best friends finally admit their love for each other ❤️ I'm so happy for the two of you!

mcdavid97: Thanks for coming and the support over the years

yourinsta: besties for life

user: I cried when I read this

user: same user. same.

clove_bennet: Squad united at the right time!

user: That was honestly so cute! The fact that at the end Connor wrote on a puck and flicked it over the glass where Y/n was sitting beside the bench with her and Connor's families, Y/b/f/n, Clove, and the Stromes. Her reaction was so cute (as it was on the screen). Y/n started crying and nodded causing Connor to celebrate more. She put her hand on the glass while crying and so did he but with the biggest grin on his face.

user: I CRIED ❤️

bianca_skye: I don't think I've seen you so happy that you cried

yourinsta: That's true

Liked by mcdavid97, stephlechance and others

yourinsta: I snapped this picture during tonight's game. At this point, I was yet to know that my best friend since birth, shared the same feelings for me as I did for him. This smile is one I love so dearly. I have no words to describe how happy I am with you. tagged: mcdavid97

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yourbestie: OMG FINALLY!!!! I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS TO HAPPEN SINCE FOREVER!!!! YAYYYYY IT WAS SO CUTE! FINALLY, I CAN SAY COUPLE GOALS WITHOUT EITHER OF YOU HAVING A GO AT ME!!!!!

stephlechance: Yesssssssss finally Connor gained some confidence and asked you out!

user: MY OTP ASDFGHJKL;'

yoursis: you two are my favourites

cammcdavid: Always knew

yoursis: We really did. Called it when they were kids

user: I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR YEARS 😍

mcdavid97: Y/n❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourinsta: Con❤️

user: CONNOR GOT OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

dylstome19: FINALLYYYYY! SO GLAD TO BE THERE!

yourinsta: glad the Strome's could be there!

edmontonoilers: NHL's power couple!

hollymcdavid: it was adorable! ❤️

user: Fallen in love with these two 😍

clove_bennet: I can't wait for the wedding!

Liked by yourinsta, ryannh93 and others

yourbestie: Ever since we were kids, everyone knew these two would one day be together and end up married. Today marked the start of the forever lasting relationship between my two best friends. I'm so proud of these two and I can't be happier for Y/n and Connor. Also the first cute photo of them as official boyfriend and girlfriend. tagged: mcdavid97and yourinsta

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yourinsta: Couldn't be happier ❤️

yoursis: How long did it take?!

user: oMgGGG!!

drat27: I can't believe we were a couple before them…

user: They are so cute 😍

zstrome: MY LIFE IS COMPLETEEEEEEE 😍😍😍

clove_bennet: Now time to be a professional third wheel and be the couple photographer

yourbestie: you got that right

Liked by user, user and others

oilersWAGs: Edmonton Oilers' 19-year-old Captain Connor McDavid and Karate World Champion Y/n Y/l/n are officially dating! McDavid asked out Y/l/n after the Oilers' Win over the Jets and she said yes! #nhlotp tagged: mcdavid97and yourinsta

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user: AHHHHHHHH YESSSS!

user: #otp

user: How did they meet each other?!

user: They met through their families. Their mums were friends, and their older siblings went to school together.

user: it's been how many years in the making?!

user: loads.

user: 😍😍😍😍

user: Honestly, I think they are a good match

user: I should be his new girlfriend :(

TAG LIST:

@penny4yourthoughts @mp0625 @hischierhaze

[catenchanter]

HEY SO! Today I recieved an... interesting package.

Anyone remember The Savior of Salem? I don't and neither should you! /j

BUT UM. I haven't seen much archiving of this compared to the original card game, so when I found a copy on ebay I was like "screw it why not?". Feels like I've managed to obtain some kind of rare forgetten artifact lmao.

Anyway, I mainly just wanted to at least. Archive this somehow! I really wanna see if I can get a proper photo of all the cards at some point. I'm still trying to figure out the best way to do so. I'm tempted to scan them but obviously that comes w/ risks and uh. Yeah. Either that or getting a photo of everything. Just trying to get a HQ one I guess would be the issue...

Either way! I mainly just wanted to showcase some of the more interesting cards for the whole.... 2 Town of salem fans (ily /platonic)

So, uh. Lets go.

(WARNING - THIS IS A LONG POST)

First off your role selection is. Not very good :( considering that Spy was a stretch goal, having only three possible roles you initially can obtain during the game is a bit. Hm. Also interesting that Psychic also originated from SoS, alongside the specific Vigilante skin. Shame Veteran has yet to get similar treatment.

The fact that mob mentality is a mechanic tickles me. Also y he look like that.

Horsemen prior to Town of Salem 2? Kinda wild.

I AM POINTING THIS ONE OUT SPECFICALLY BECAUSE. HELLO!? THIS MAN KINDA GIVES ME TUMBLR SEXYMAN ENERGY /LH WHY IS FIT KINDA COOL AS.

MY BRAIN IS LIKE "IS THAT THE SK?" BUT I. DOUBT IT IS NGL.

This confirms that A) The vigilante needs glasses and B) The sheriff has killed. Probably killed a townie, hence why the Vigilante can't use them /nsrs

Spy does not want to be around dogs. Spy how could you. /nsrs

The closest we'll ever get to the mafia being relevant again :( also hello stray hair that might have been from me whoops.

Tag u and the squad (I'm Gold Value: 150)

I feel like you can make a joke out of this.

Just some neat creatures. Shout out to the inner demons specifically.

Glad to see the Amnesiac canonically has hair and is not bald.

All the other horsemen get cool weapons... famine gets the scales. Tbh who needs cool weapons anyway when you have :bread

(I mean tbh it does make sense but. Sick ass weapons either way)

SOME EXAMPLES OF UM. art. The full body chainmail looks traced from the town of salem game art holy shit flummery.

Just some townies being used and abused :)

And that's about it! At least, the ones I think are neat and wanted to share anyway. The deck came with a whole bunch of blank cards, as well as many. Many more cards. Like I didn't show you guys all the coven ones.

I definately want to get a photo of everything at some point but for now. Here you go eat up I guess.