#and make sure he gets every penny he needs for his kid

[lookninjas]

Anyway, fuck jealousy culture in general, fuck the idea that if a person interacts with a person of a different gender they are obviously boning because that’s the only reason for interaction ever, fuck the kind of people who destroy their partner’s property because they think they’ve a right to if their jealousy shit gets triggered (if the trust is that gone just break the fuck up), fuck the idea that men can’t be abused, and fuck how hard it is to find an abused person with a kid some kind of shelter.  Fuck the way the disability system works just in general, and (and I cannot repeat this enough) fuck abusive jealous fuckheads.

That’s it.  That’s all I got.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲

(dad!eddie munson x mom!reader)

Summary: . . . You and your kids wake Eddie up with a surprise for Father's Day. warnings: fluff and Eddie being down bad for Reader 🤭, implications of baby making.

word count: 2k

more dad!eddie here

“'Shhh', mama?” Your four year old asked as she trailed behind you in the hallway.

  “Yeah, we have to be quiet so you can wake daddy up with a surprise.” You were trying not to make too much noise with the flowers, wrapped in apparently the world’s loudest brown paper, hitching your nine-month old up higher on your hip.

  Thank goodness neither of your kids were in a fussy mood, especially considering you’d gotten them up early after the terrible night before. Wayne had a new tooth coming in, he was absolutely miserable and your poor baby made sure to let everyone know. He’d been wailing most of the night and Eddie took it upon himself to soothe him, rubbing some baby friendly orajel along his gums, massaging them with fingers dipped in cool water, and offering frozen teething rings and plenty of comfort in the form of nonstop cuddles.

  He hadn’t joined you in bed until the early hours of the morning, which worked out perfectly. Eddie had been dead asleep when you got up, squishing a pillow you’d planted in place of yourself to his chest.

  Next came getting the kids ready, which was also surprisingly easy. Penny was pliant with sleep, letting you dress her without whining (she kept trying to lean forward so she could rest on you and go back to sleep—it was the cutest thing) and your baby was still soothed by Eddie’s remedies, letting out content coos as you changed his diaper and also got him ready.

  After a quick trip to a music store downtown (and by quick you meant 45 minutes, Penny took delicate care in picking out another final gift for her daddy and told you not to rush her every time you’d ask her to hurry) and a stop at the flower shop, you arrived back home and it looked like Eddie still hadn’t stirred, which gave you time to make breakfast.

  You’d sat Waynie in his high chair, gave him some cut up pieces of banana to gnaw on—which he did so as aggressively as possible—and went about making pancakes, eggs and bacon (which Eddie liked to devour until he felt ill).

  Penny was of course your little helper, sitting on your lap while you assisted her with whisking the eggs in a bowl for Waynie’s scrambled eggs, and then perched on your hip to help you flip the pancakes. She’d insisted that Eddie’s pancakes all be heart shaped and you loved the idea, so after a couple of failed ones that would be on your plate, you eventually got it down and she wrapped her arms tightly around you in a hug for it.

  Once breakfast was plated and the table was set, you gathered Wayne and the flowers while Penny carried Eddie’s decoy gift towards your bedroom.

  Quietly, you opened the door and peaked in, smiling  at Eddie’s sleeping form.

  “Okay, let’s go wake him up. Shh.” You propped the door open for Penny to slip in before you and she grinned up at you, using her free hand to hold her finger to her lips, she’d be quiet.

  She set the rectangular box on the end of the bed and then climbed on top while you sat Wayne down on the bed.

  He was just starting to crawl, so he very shakily made his way towards Eddie—face planting quite a few times but it didn’t deter your baby.

  Penny looked back at you for confirmation and you nodded in encouragement. That was all the permission she needed.

  “Daddy! Daddy, wake up! It’s daddy’s day! Wakey, wakey!” 

  She poked and prodded at his side when he groaned and shifted onto his back, eyes squinting open. That wasn’t good enough for her, she moved to sit on him and Wayne finally reached him, using his dad’s shoulder to prop himself up enough to sit back on his bum while he let out a happy shriek, chunky little palms slapping eagerly at his dad’s face to do the trick.

  Eddie made a face, nose scrunching up but you could see the smile curling on his lips, dimples appearing.

  “Okay, okay! I’m awake! Stop the assault!” 

  Penny laughed as he sat up, which almost sent her sprawling on the bed but she caught herself on his leg. Eddie tutted, that wouldn’t do.

  Eddie reached out and pushed her off of him and she laughed hysterically as she bounced against the mattress which made the two of you chuckle. For some reason your daughter loved to rough house with him. 

  Penny didn’t stay down for long, quickly crawling back up to lay down along the side of his pillow and Eddie turned his head to look at her after he’d gathered Wayne and sat him on his chest.

  “Happy Fodder’s Day, daddy. You aw the best daddy in the whole wide everywhere.” She whispered to him, very seriously, and he leaned in to give her a smacking kiss on the nose.

  “Thank you, baby.” His voice was raspy but you could detect the emotion under it. Eddie was so gonna choke up.

  “You wanna give him his present?” You prompted her, and Eddie’s head darted in your direction, grin widening at the sight of you in his favorite dress.

  “Oh, yeah!” Penny scurried to the end of the bed and knee-crawled back to Eddie, hands outstretched to offer him the rectangular box.

  “What’s this?” He asked, tucking Wayne into his side so he could grab the box.

  “You gots to open it, daddy.” Penny demanded, eagerly leaning in to stare at the box while he did.

  “Sorry,” you both traded looks of amusement before he took off the lid and moved the tissue paper aside to reveal a new guitar strap; black and decorated with crossbone skulls. “This is for me?”

  “Yeah!” Penny nodded her head ecstatically. “Mommy lemme pickeded it out!”

  “Thank you so much, little pretty one.” Eddie moved his hand to the back of his daughter’s curly little head to bring it in so he could press a kiss to her forehead, then he turned to the baby at his side. “And you, too!”

  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the sweet smelling curls on his baby’s head. In return, Waynie started gnawing on his arm.

  You sat on the side of the bed and pulled him away from Eddie’s arm. Your son looked at you, affronted,  like you’d committed the ultimate crime until you held a pacifier to his lips. He eagerly gobbled it up and relaxed back against Eddie, once more content as he suckled.

  “Penny, do you wanna go get the other thing?”

  “Wha─?” She looked at you, confused for only a moment before her big brown eyes lit up. “YES, YES, YES!”

  Penny quickly climbed off the bed and ran to her room, where you’d hidden it.

  “What are you up to, trouble?” Eddie asked and you turned your head away from the doorway to find him looking at you, sleepy eyes clouded with love and affection as he reached a hand out to stroke along your exposed thigh.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

  “You’re trying to make me cry again, aren’t you?”

  “Not me, no way. No how.” 

  “I GOS IT, MOMMY!” Penny ran back in, chin raised to peak over the box she carried. It wasn’t too heavy for her, just big.

  She brought it over to you and you handed it to Eddie before pulling her up onto your lap as you watched him unbox it.

  “I wonder what it could b—.” Eddie’s mouth parted just slightly as he pulled a small amp from the box. It wasn’t just any amp. It was an amp you’d sneakily picked up from the music store last week—he had a ton of amps sprawled around the apartment but Eddie’s favorite portable one had recently gone out on him. 

  The amp itself would have been a fantastic gift alone, but you’d taken a few extra steps to personalize it for him. You’d painted the black amp with a solid red background and then let Penny and Wayne paint whatever they wanted on it. 

  Penny had gone all out, making sure to paint her family holding hands on it, along with plenty of depictions of her dad, one of which was him wearing a cape because he was her hero and since Wayne was too little to use a paintbrush, his little hand and foot prints were on it. 

  On one of the sides was your initials (last name replaced with an ‘M’ to represent the Munson name you’d taken on when you’d married him) + EM 4Ever, tucked into a heart with Cupid’s bow shot through it. 

  “SUPISE! D’ya like it, daddy? I drews on it, and it got Waynie’s feets and hans.” Penny looked so proud of herself, smile nearly taking up her entire face.

  Eddie sniffled and you hid your grin in Penny’s hair. You got him.

  He licked his lips and cleared his throat to try and keep himself together but you could see the shine in his eyes when he raised them.

  “I love it so much, baby girl.” He choked out, holding Wayne a little tighter to his side.

  “You wanna give daddy a hug?” You whispered into her ear and she crawled off your lap to throw herself at Eddie, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

  Eddie was careful to make sure Penny didn’t squish Wayne as he held her to his chest, eyes squeezing shut and his freehand cradling the back of her head.

  “I luh you, daddy.” Penny mumbled, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

  “I love you, pretty Penny.” He pressed a multitude of kisses to her curls as he basked in the moment before his eyes shot open and over to you. “What are you doing all the way over there? Get over here and give me some love.”

  You affectionately rolled your eyes before you complied, lifting Wayne out of his arms and into yours to take his place tucked into Eddie’s side. Eddie demanded kisses the moment you were near, and because you loved him, you ignored his god awful morning breath and let him have his way.

  His lips remained pressed to your temple, an arm slipped around your waist so he could lift the skirt of your dress, fingers tracing the words I love you along your thigh as Penny explained all her paintings in great, excessive detail.

  Later, when you were all at the table eating the breakfast you and Penny had made, Eddie could barely get a bite in without staring at you. Wayne was in your arms, face pressed against your breast as he nursed (always did it before he ate solids), while Penny babbled to you about how fun cooking with you had been and how yummy it was as you helped her scoop up her food on her little fork.

  Eddie knew Father’s Day was a day meant to celebrate him and essentially all the other fathers of the world, but he’d much rather appreciate you. You’d given him Penny and Wayne; his sweet (usually) little girl and his baby boy. Without you, he wouldn’t be able to be a part of this day, really.

  Eventually, you felt the weight of his stare and looked up at him, gaze inquisitive.

  “What?” 

  He just huffed out a gentle laugh, brown eyes warm and making a certain feeling stir in your belly, “Nothing. Thank you. For them.”

  Eddie nods towards Wayne and Penny.

  “Well, you definitely played a part in getting them here.” You mused, reaching a hand out to stroke over Penny’s curls. 

  Sure, you made them but it wouldn’t have been possible had Eddie not finished inside of you on a regular basis. 

  When you looked back at him, Eddie was smirking, his eyes were heavily lidded and darkening–his bedroom eyes. The warmth in them was simmering into something much more intense as he leered at you with absolutely no shame. Lustful.

  You could feel yourself heating up, bashful nature hitting you full force as he nearly ate you alive with his gaze alone. You knew what was coming next, what he was about to say.

  “Wanna make another one during nap time?”

[sometimesanalice]

I Like Your Cinema

Synopsis: Bradley wasn’t sure why you wanted to see the movie again, especially when neither one of you had particularly liked it the first time you’d seen it together. But when you’re tugging down his zipper, things start to make a lot more sense.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw X Female Reader

Length: 6K

Warnings: Unapologetic Smut (minors dni)

(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on it's own! )

Bradley wasn’t expecting to find himself rolling up to the mostly empty movie theater parking lot at 11am on a sunny Saturday morning. But here he was.

He’d had to exercise more self-control than he knew he was capable of when you’d all but skipped out his front door wearing the tightest pair of jeans he’d ever seen. It was all he could do to follow after you to the Bronco, his eyes glued to all of your denim clad curves, instead of pulling you right back into bed with him like he wanted to.

In the passenger’s seat next to him, you’re surprisingly upbeat for someone who was only running off of two cups of coffee instead of the usual three you needed to become a semblance of a functional human being. You’d happily hummed along to the songs playing on the radio the whole ride to the theater.

The two of you had already seen the movie a few weeks ago. It had been fine, but they’d clearly used the funniest moments in the trailer as a way to get people in the seats. It wasn’t one he was particularly interested in seeing again in theaters, but he’d never been good at refusing you. Not when he was younger and certainly not now. So if you wanted to see it he’d be there seated right next to you, just the way he liked to be.

Although Bradley was still trying to remember just when last night it was that the two of you had talked about going to see a matinee showing of it again. He can only guess that it must have slipped his mind after the way you’d come on his mouth.

Less than an hour ago you were hustling him into the shower, he was thinking he was about to get lucky until you’d told him to hurry up or the two of you would be late.

“Wait, late for what, kid?” he’d asked confused. To his knowledge other than meeting up with Mav and Penny for dinner later that night, your Saturday was wonderfully free of plans.

He was getting used to having more morning of waking up with you than less. In his bed, in your bed. There was nothing he like more than feeling all your warm skin under his palm before the sun was up. After so many years on hard beds, it was your softness he was always seeking out still half asleep before getting up for the day.

He’s learned so many things about you from a lifetime of friendship, but he’s only had a couple of months learning what makes you sigh and gasp and keen and come.

It was one thing to know that you weren’t a morning person, regardless of how much you claimed you to be one, and another to see your adorably sleepy pout first thing in the morning with the pillow crease still etched on your cheek.

Bradley liked knowing what your preferred brand of toothpaste was and how many steps were in your bedtime routine. For as well as he’s always known you, there was so much more to discover and he was loving every new bit of you he got to uncover.

He liked your cozy apartment filled with all your pretty things and framed pictures on the walls. He’d never thought of getting a rug for in front of the sink in the kitchen until he was doing the dishes one night at your place, that night he’d ordered one for himself. However, he’d rather see your impressive shoe collection next to his minimal assortment of boots and sneakers in the closet of his condo.

More often than not, you were coming to his place with a tote bag full of your things, spare clothes and travel sized products. He didn’t want you to feel like a visitor passing through, he wanted to be your home. He was still working out how to ask you to move in with him, but he’ll figure it out. He always does.

He wanted more mornings, more nights, more days with you.

“For the movie,” you’d said slowly, looking at him deliberately. Tilting your head at him like his confusion was confusing you.

“Sweet girl, what movie? When did we talk about this? I literally don’t remember.”

The exasperated sigh that came out of you would have been funny if he hadn’t been wracking his brain trying to catch up with something he didn’t realize he was missing to begin with.

“Bradley, come on,” you huffed, petulantly, “We talked about it before bed last night. You said you’d come with me, I already bought the tickets for it.” You wiggle your phone at him like it’ll somehow help to jog his memory.

Well, that explains it. You’d done a number on him last night.

“Last night, huh?” he smirked, grabbing your hips and pulling you to him, “Was this before or after I coaxed you into sitting on my face?” Bradley chuckled at the bashful look that coasted over your face as you shoved at his shoulder lightly, but he’d just tugged you in closer, “Awh, c’mon, don’t get shy on me. It was hot.”

He liked being the one that gets to make you all flustered.

You just shook your head at him, not taking the bait, “It was after.”

“Well if it was after then you can’t blame me for not retaining that conversation.  You should know by now that you can’t hold me to whatever comes out of my mouth when I’m still pussy dru-”

“Don’t be crass,” you’d tutted at him, tugging at the hem of his worn Navy shirt.

He slides his thumbs under your shirt, letting them skim over the soft skin above your underwear, “We both know how much you like this mouth, especially when it’s ‘crass’.”

You’d hummed at him- admitting nothing, denying nothing - before a mischievous grin overtook your face, “That’s a good a tidbit to know though, seems like the kind of thing that could work in my favor for the future.”

Those dimples would be the end of him.

“Troublemaker,” he’d said, pulling off his shirt and dropping it onto the bathroom floor.

You weren’t subtle about the way you checked him out, “What are you going to do about it?”

The sweatpants came off next and your eyes weren’t anywhere near his face when he replied, “Come get in the shower with me and I’ll show you real quick.”

You’d sauntered up to him slowly. And for a moment he thought you were going to reach for his cock, instead you’d grabbed a fluffy white towel and pressed it into his chest, “Not going to happen, Bradshaw. We’ve got a date with seats F9 and F10 in 40 minutes. Chop-chop, pretty boy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Although, it didn’t stop him from snapping the towel at your ass when you’d spun away in your triumph.

He’s given up trying to remember the conversation from the night before or when you bought the tickets because you are happily tugging him towards the doors to the theater and he’d do just about anything to see the pretty curve of your smile.

Including seeing the action comedy that had one too many explosion sequences and a car that ends up in space for whatever reason.

The last time he made a fuss about you not letting him be the one to buy something for the two of you, you’d given him a look that had nearly pinned him to the damn wall and then said: “Don’t be a caveman. It’s not the 1950’s, I am allowed buy you things too.”

He’d hate to be called anti-feminist, so he was trying to get better about letting you pamper him in your own ways. But that didn’t stop him from trying to be the first one to reach for a credit card every chance he got. You were his girl and he couldn’t help himself.

Bradley opens the door for you and is hit with the smell of freshly popped popcorn. He looks down at you in time to watch as your nose scrunches the same way it always has in all the years that he’s known you.

Once the tickets on your phone are scanned by the yawning teen at the podium in the lobby entry, you’re lacing your fingers between his again, “Let’s get some snacks.”

“How are you even hungry right now?” He’d made the two of you a big breakfast to recoup some energy after being thoroughly worn out by you last night. So he doesn’t know how you even have junk food on the brain right now.

“We’re at the movie theater, Bradley, we’re legally required to get something with some Red Dye 40 and an obscene amount of sugar in it.”

“My bad, you’re right.”

“Of course, I am,” you preen.

He huffs an amused laugh as you lead him to concessions stand. It’s early enough that there’s only one person working the counter. The two of you get in line behind the family with three small kids who have their faces and little hands pressed against the glass display with all the colorful boxes of candies excitedly making their selections.

Bradley is watching as you mull over the choices on the flat screen TVs displaying the theaters offerings, your lips quirked to the side deep in thought. As he watches you, it dawns on him that the two of you will have plenty of time after the movie to run a few errands before they meet Mav and Penny for dinner.

“Hey, I was thinking about getting for a new dresser. I think mine might be too small now that all my things are here in San Diego now. If you’re up for it afterwards, do you want to come help me pick one out? Anything outside of IKEA is bit outside my area of expertise.”

With your help over the last few months, he’s been picking up a few new things to make his place feel more like a home and less like something temporary. Like some throw pillow for the couch, some nicer towels for the bathroom that all match. All little things but he liked that your fingerprints were all over his place even when you weren’t there with him.

“Oh yeah?” you say as you turn your face to look up at him, eyes alight with interest, “I’d be happy to, it’ll be fun! I can think of at least 5 places off the top of my head. You’re in good hands, trust me.”

“Don’t I know it,” he winks and drops a kiss on your cheek.

When it’s your turn to order you get a Cherry Coke for yourself and a Root Beer for him. Along with a bag of gummy bears, a box of Milk Duds, and a packet of Red Vines. But it’s your final request that surprises him.

“Oh, and a large popcorn, please,” you say with a smile.

He peers down at you quizzically, “But you hate popcorn.”

“What are you talking about? No, I don’t.” He just gives you a skeptical lift of his eyebrow. “Ok, maybe in the past,” you allow, with a little nonchalant shrug of your shoulder, “But today I want some, it sounds good.”

Bradley has never in his life seen you eat anything other than the homemade stuff from on a stovetop, but at the determined tip of your chin he isn’t about to press it. You’ve always been the type of girl who knows what she wants. And gets it.

“Whatever you want, kid,” he says handing over his credit card to the girl behind the counter. Feeling more than a little pleased with himself as she swipes it since you’re still trying to reach for your wallet in your purse.  

You smile and shake your head at him as you press that overly large bucket of popcorn into his chest for him to take, it’s shiny and yellow with artificial butter. You grab a stack of the thin, single-ply napkins and stuff them into your purse before grabbing the rest of the goods from off the fingerprint covered counter.

He trails after you popping a few salty buttery pieces into his mouth, admiring the curve of your ass in those jeans. His own personal preshow entertainment.

The seats you had grabbed were to the left side in the very back row of one of the smaller theaters that are usually reserved for movies about to hit on-demand and streaming services. Bradley can’t say he’s too surprised that the zoom kaboom movie isn’t going to have a long theatrical run.

It doesn’t escape his notice the way you set his drink in the cup holder on the left side of his assigned seat, your own soda going into the cup holder on your right before you settle into your own seat. It’s the little things you do for him, like putting his cup on his dominant side or stocking the fridge at your place with his favorite beer, that make him fall more and more for you every day.

The two of you get competitive when the movie trivia segment plays. You’re a split second faster than him blurting out Matt Damon in Ocean’s Twelve and securing your win against him. Your victory shimmy in your seat is cut short when a man comes walking down the aisle heading towards the front row of the theater.

Bradley plays a couple rounds of the beer pong game on his phone that you always tease him about in between eating handfuls of popcorn waiting for the lights to dim and the movie to start. He offers you the bucket, but you press it back towards him and tell him you’ll have some later.

He thinks he catches the movie app with the seating chart from the corner of his eye, but you’re probably just closing it out from using it to get the tickets scanned earlier. But you’re more fidgety than normal. It’s only after he clocks you pulling your phone for the third time that he asks, “You seem antsy, you ok?”

“I’m just excited to see the movie again,” you reply, putting your phone on airplane mode and tucking it back into your purse.

“I didn’t realize you liked it so much.”

“Well, I did. I think you’ll like it more this time too, it takes at least two watches to catch all the nuances.”

“I didn’t realize a Kevin Hart movie could have so many layers,” he jokes as the lights turn down.

“You shush, it’s starting.”

As the opening sequence plays, you push up the armrest between the two of you to lean your head on his shoulder, curling into him as much as you can. When you rest your hand on his stomach he decides this might be his new favorite way to spend a Saturday morning, with you pressed against him in a darkened room and breathing in the smell of your shampoo.

Bradley isn’t surprised in the least when you turn down his offer of popcorn again 20 minutes later when it’s revealed the best friend in the movie is actually a rogue CIA agent. He smirks to himself when you push until its resting on top of the thigh furthest away from you. He couldn’t wait to tease you about it after the movie was over.

As the movie builds to the first big action sequence, your hand slowly slides lower down his stomach. It’s all he can to do try and focus on the movie in hopes of distracting himself from getting a hard-on like some horny teenager rather than the grown ass man that he is.

But then right as the chase scene through the crowded streets of London starts, you’re popping open the button on his jeans and tugging down his zipper.

And then you’re pulling out his now very hard cock.

“Oh, shit.”

Your delicate fingers are teasing along the length of him with a featherlight touch. He couldn’t care less about the half a million-dollar car on screen that’s on its way to the junkyard with the way it’s getting destroyed, and is entirely enthralled by the way your hand looks loosely wrapped around his cock as you toy with him.

“This ok?” you ask quietly, in a way that has him wanting to flutter his eyes closed. Your thumb sweeps slowly along under the flare of his head in the way you know he likes.

He’s always been a bit adventurous, he likes the adrenaline rush both in the air and on the ground, and he was learning you were too. You’d never come so quick for him as you did the night in the parking lot of the Hard Deck when the fire alarm went off unexpectedly causing everyone to start flooding out as you were riding his cock in the driver’s seat of the Bronco.

Bradley had never been more thankful to have arrived late enough that he’d had to park on the other side of the dumpsters. The only person who was allowed to see you undone and unraveled was him.

“So fucking ok, sweet girl,” he rasps as soundlessly as he can. The one other person in the theater with them is quite a few rows ahead of them, but he wasn’t about to give away what was going on in the back row of Auditorium 17 at the AMC Chula Vista 10.

“Shh, don’t you know talking during a movie is rude, Bradley?” you whisper into the shell of his ear. And god does he want to laugh, but he has to grit his teeth together to hold back the moan he’s desperate to release when you more firmly grasp him in your hand.

He already knows that is something that’s going to keep him occupied on those nights the two of you spend apart. Something to dream about on a cramped bunk bed on a carrier in the middle of the ocean when he is thousands of miles away from you.

You and your pleased smile and your hand on his cock.

There’s no way he could have prepared himself for the way you lean over him and lick up the length of him with a broad stroke of your tongue.

You’ve got one hand at the base of him and the other braced on his thigh supporting you. He’s clutching at the rim of that damn bucket of popcorn like it’s a lifeline as you drop wet, open mouthed kisses along his cock.

His pulse is thrumming in his throat and he can’t quite remember how to push the air out of his lungs. He’s had years of learning specialized breathing techniques and it all flies out of his mind at the stroke of your hand and the bob of your head and the swirl of your tongue.

Bradley is desperate to see you face, there’s nothing he loves more than looking into your eyes when you’re treating him to your perfect mouth. It’s not possible at this angle, but he gathers your hair into his fist so that he can see your lips stretched around him. He’s not guiding your motions, he just wants a better look at you. Even in the dimly lit auditorium, he can see how spit-slicked you’ve gotten him.

You’re taking as much of him as you can, with each dip of your head more and more of him disappears into your hot mouth.

And when he hits the back of your throat he nearly loses his mind.

“Jesus,” he curses up to the ceiling, throwing his head back and trying not to pant. Thankfully in time with some explosion on screen and he knows without a doubt that you’d done it at that moment on purpose.

You pull off of him and the string of spit glinting between your lips and his cock is going to fuel his one-handed fodder for the next month. He watches in rapt until its pulled taut enough to break. Your lips are shiny and wet, there’s a satisfied smile on your face as you take him in, still pumping him with your hand.

Your teeth graze his earlobe, and goosebumps erupt along his forearms. Your words hushed so that only he could hear them. Only meant for him. “God, Bradley, you’re so good to me. You’ve always been so good to me.”

“Sweet girl,” he whispers, roughly. His chest is tight with his sheer want of you.

You kiss his cheek, “Just enjoy the movie, Bradley.” Your hand is gliding up and down his shaft easily, your thumb skimming over his sensitive head on every upstroke.

Your tongue dips out to lave at the divot at the base of his neck and you nudge him with your nose in a silent request. He leans his head back along the red velvet seat and angles himself away to give you all the access to column of his throat. With his eyes tightly squeezed closed, every touch feels that much more heightened to him. Your hot breath on his throat is at stark contrast to the air conditioning wafting through the auditorium.

The feel of your lips mouthing and sucking and licking along him is worth any shit he’d get if he goes onto base on Monday wearing your handiwork on his neck. He’d do those extra push-ups with pride.

He looks down to where your hand is working him in smooth strokes, your fingertips not touching until they reach the from ridge of the head of his cock. He knows he’s not small by any means, but in your hands he looks huge.

It feels so wrong and so right. The movie is loud enough to cover any slick sounds your hand is making and the other person is far enough away that there’s no way the two of you will be caught, not above the surround sound of screeching tires on pavement and the shattering of glass.

Your lips graze his ear, “You always know just what I need and what to say. You make feel so seen and so special.” With every generous word, his heart hammers harder and harder against his ribs. Your sweet voice and your hand working his cock have him dizzy with need. “And it’s not just me. I don’t miss the way you check to see if anyone else needs a drink before you go to get another one or the way you’re always the first to help when someone needs an extra set of hands. It’s so hot the way you take care of everyone.”

Bradley’s face feels warm, he’s sure he’s flushed pink. He’s trying to keep his breathing under control, but you’re making it difficult for him. He’s never shied away from the praise that comes with his career, he’s worked and sacrificed for that. But with you, he never wants to stop earning it from you.

“You’re so damn handsome,” you hum, your lips brushing over one of the scars on his neck, the ones he’s never told you the full story about just how he got them. “I’ve never been so desperate for someone before, I want you all the time. I didn’t know it could be like this, Bradley. I lo-like you so much.”

He breathes your name unevenly.

He didn’t realize how hungry he was for those three words from you until just now. He’s loved you his whole life, in the affectionate way that friends do, but it’s been increasingly clear to him over these last few months that he is also in love with you.

Bradley already knew he was never going to feel the same way about anyone else the way he feels about you.

He’s never felt more himself than he does with you. You know the best parts of him and the worst, you’ve been there and seen it all. He doesn’t have to just be Rooster or Lieutenant Bradshaw all the time. He can just be.

It’s never been like this for him before either. He’s always orbited around your sun, but now you’re his whole universe.

He loses himself to the sound of your voice and pretty praise, soft and low, and to the feel of your lips and tongue on his skin as you work his cock in the way that he knows is going to have him seeing stars soon.

Bradley can feel your grin against his neck right before you drag your teeth down the column of his throat, “No one has ever fucked me as good as you do. I’ve never come so hard as I do with you.” 

He has to swallow down the groan that almost escapes him as he jerks into your hand as a tidal wave of masculine pride crashes into him.

Damn right you do.

You are his girl.

He knows your body. He knows you.

His. His. His.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

A cough from the front of the auditorium startles the both of you. The tension makes his throat tight, but when it’s followed by a sniffle rather than a second more pointed noise, the two of you know you’re safe to continue.

“Bradley.” He can hear the request in the way you say his name. With no minimal effort, he cracks his eyes open and turns his head to you. Half of your pretty face is illuminated by the movie playing in front of the two of you.

Holding his gaze, you slowly stick your shiny, pink tongue out to him and he almost comes on the spot.

He can see the playful dare in your eyes and the wicked curve of the corners of your mouth around your waiting tongue.

You know exactly what you are doing to him. A menace, his favorite menace.

His favorite person.

Bradley leans over and cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb skimming along your cheek right before he spits into your open mouth.

You let him admire his handiwork for a moment and then you wink at him.

It’s in that instant that he knows he’s played right into your winning hand because you’re leaning back down over his cock and letting the combination of his spit and yours drip right on to the top of him.

The two of you watch as the thick dribble slowly slides off and down, down guided by the thick vein along the length of him.

When it reaches the base of his cock, your mouth is chasing after it as you take him right down to the hilt.

His stomach and thighs are tensing with the strain of holding himself back when you hollow your cheeks around him. He almost doesn’t want to give in just yet, but the feel of your soft lips and the firm strokes of your hand on him is just too good.

That pressure that has been steadily building behind his bellybutton is too hard to ignore. He’s so close now. You must be able to tell he’s right there too because you’re humming around him in that way that makes his lower stomach and inner thighs coil in anticipation. He reaches for your leg, driven by the overwhelming need to touch you. Bradley can feel all your soothing warmth through your painted on jeans under his palm.

And with a tricky twist of your wrist at the base of his cock as you tongue at the firm ridge of him, he spills into your perfect mouth as you finish him off.

Bradley’s mind goes blank with pleasure as it hits him like a sucker punch. 

It’s intense. It’s a rush. It’s all because of you.

Spent and sated he melts further into the comfortable movie theater seat as you clean what cum you couldn’t swallow with your tongue, laving at him until you were content before tucking him back into his boxer briefs.

He doesn’t know how he made it through that without sending that giant bucket of popcorn to the floor, but the rim of it is noticeable crumbled on one side. He balances it on his leg as he adjusts himself and rebuttons his jeans.

When he looks over at you, you’re popping a Milk Dud into your mouth like a prize for a job well done. And you grin widely at him.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, affectionately pulling you back to him. He kisses the top of your head as you tuck yourself into his chest, that box of candy clutched in your hand.

The rest of the movie passes in a hazy blur as his heartrate returns to normal while he plays with the ends of your hair.

He tries offering you the popcorn again, but once again you push it away. This time he does laugh and you tilt your head up and press a soft kiss at the base of his throat. He can’t help but smile to himself every time you hold up one of the chocolate-covered caramel candies up for him to eat, your eyes never leaving the screen.

And this time, he’s not even annoyed when they misidentify the Immelmann Turn for a Barrel Roll Attack. Although how they got a Pontiac Fiero airborne is still beyond him.  

When the man in the front row leaves as the credits start rolling he turns to you, “Well, you were right, sweet girl. I think that might be my new favorite movie.”  

Your smile is beaming, but your laugh is even brighter.

He still can’t believe that just happened, but he’s already planning to preorder the damn collector’s edition Blu-ray the second he can. “Can I ask what brought that on?”

“You keep trying to get handsy with me at the library, but you know I can’t desecrate the books. Knowledge is power, Bradley. But I figured this was something you might like too.”

“Are you telling me you brought me here for the sole purpose of getting me off in the back row, kid?

“I am and I did,” you preen.

Bradley chuckles and leans over for a kiss. It’s soft and sweet.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes, grinning he asks, “So you like me, huh?” He knows he’s probably pressing his luck, but he’s willing to take a gamble if it means he gets to hear that from you again.

You press you lips together trying to fight back your own smile, “I’m not saying those three words to you for the first time after blowing you in the back row of an AMC, Bradshaw.”

“Is it just the AMC then?” he teases, setting his bucket of popcorn to the side before pulling you into his lap. Your knees balanced on the seats to either side of him as you settle on him, “Because we could hit up a Regal if that’s more your speed. Or-”

“Bradley,” you laugh, trying to cover his mouth with your hand.

He catches it in his and presses a quick kiss to your palm, “And what if I told you I like you too? Would that change anything?”

It’s no secret what he really means. He knows what almost slipped out of your mouth. But if you’re not quite ready to say it then he can be patient. You’re more than worth the wait.

Bradley sees the way your eyes light up and the way your smile gets even wider only a sliver of a second before you’re ducking down to eagerly kiss him.

For a moment he feels like he is a teenager again, making out with his girlfriend in the back of a movie theater without anyone around. Wild and reckless and carefree.

Your hands slide up his chest and into his hair, your nails on his scalp have him sinking further into the seat. His hands grip your ass, just like the way he’s by dying to touch you since he saw you in them this morning. He takes advantage of your gasp to slide his tongue against yours. He didn’t know that happiness tasted like the Cherry Coke you had been sipping on, but it does and he can’t get enough of it.

He probably would have kept on kissing you if it were for the pointed clearly of a throat that has the two of you flying apart like you’ve both been electrocuted. The teen standing in the aisle just awkwardly lifts up the broom and dust pan.

You bite your lip to keep from giggling at getting caught as you scramble off of his lap collecting your things, hastily shoving the candy back in your purse and babbling a sorry, sorry that he personally didn’t think sounded too terribly apologetic. He’s quick to follow your lead, checking his pockets to make sure he still had his wallet and keys, not forgetting to grab that large cardboard popcorn bucket as you head for the double doors to the auditorium.

The two of you manage to keep it together until the swinging door closes behind and then you’re bursting out into a fit of laughter in the hallway.

“Oh my god, Bradley, I’m mortified,” you giggle into his chest, “We can never come back here.”

“Nah, I’m sure that’s not the first time that kid has busted people for necking in the back row. Plus this is the best reviewed AMC in the area,” he says with a grin, dropping his arm over your shoulders. “Hey, I’ve still got at least half a bucket of popcorn left should we make it a double feature? I’m more than happy to return the favor. Those jeans of yours might make it a little difficult, but I’m up for the challenge.” He gives you a playfully suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Maybe next time,” you grin, reaching up and threading your fingers through his to tug him towards the exit. “I am worried we might be arrested for public indecency if we stay here a second longer.”

He tosses the popcorn bucket into the trash as the two of you pass by the concession stand on your way out.

“Ok, kid, but I have to know, why did you order the biggest size they had if you weren’t going to eat it too? We both know you hate movie theater popcorn.”

“You’re not allowed to tease me if I tell you.”

“I promise not to tease you,” he says holding open the door for you.

“I thought it might help to block any potential wandering eyes,” you admit, blushingly, “Just in case, there was any last-minute Kevin Hart super fans who wanted to go to a matinee first thing in the morning.”

He tips his head back and laughs, “She’s smart and pretty.”

“And you like me for it,” you say, squeezing his hand in yours.

“Oh, I more than like you for it, sweet girl,” he confirms.

Any other plans he had for the day are forgotten when you press him against the Bronco for another thorough kiss.

It was a miracle the two of you weren’t late meeting Penny and Mav later that night.

He still wants to get a new dresser, he wants you to have a place to put things in his home. But if his girlfriend wants to spend the rest of their Saturday in bed together, who is he to deny you.

Not when he knows you like him.

You don’t make him wait long to hear it though.

They are the first three words he heard out of your mouth the next morning.

And it is without a doubt the best thing he’s ever heard in his life.

Nothing has ever felt as easy or as right to him as it does saying it back to you against your smiling lips.

I love you I love you I love you I love you

Shout out to the AMC Chula Vista 10! They're the real MVP here. Bradley and Sweet Girl definitely return, and the next time she wears a dress 🤗

A big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for being the ultimate hype girl, I know when the vibes are right when the ALL CAPS come out. Ames (@laracrofted) you saved the day with the color edit for the banner, thank you! And Elle (@callsignspark), you know what you did and I thank you for letting me join you on the 'spit in my mouth' agenda, haha!

If you enjoyed these two, you can read their story from the start here!

You can read my other stories here!

Tag list:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[gretagerwigsmuse]

i don’t know, blame the air force?

summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw feels his girlfriend’s wrath after she gets her year end bonus and uncle sam takes a pretty penny out of it

a/n: listen….this is very self indulgent and that’s all i’m going to say. i literally wrote it this afternoon after…well i got fucked by the government in the form of taxes on my bonus. also yeah she’s kind of a brat in this one, but i think it’s a little deserved. rated t for language and suggestive comments 1.2k

It wasn’t often that you beat Bradley home from work, but sometimes on Fridays you would sneak out of the office at lunch and work the rest of the day from home. It typically put you in a good mood and gave you the opportunity to run a quick load of laundry or get started on an - admittedly - rudimentary dinner. Sometimes you’d even go for a dip in your building’s skyline pool.

But that afternoon, you were seething. Properly seething. And no amount of stress cleaning or tanning was going to make you feel any better. Maybe you just needed Bradley to fuck you six ways to Sunday later? Surely the serotonin from a couple orgasms could soothe this particular anger brewing inside of you.

As per every October, you had gotten your year end bonus with your paycheck earlier that day, which always inspired equal amounts of giddiness and angst within you.

The giddiness, of course, because who doesn’t love extra money? It was like found money twice a year. Sure, you worked extra hard for it, many late nights at the office, client site visits, and presentations over the last four years could attest to that. You were up in the air over whether you should add it to your brokerage account or splurge on something? Because again - you worked for it.

But then there was the angst.

The angst because you inevitably lost half of it to taxes. And this angst appeared like clockwork, twice a year, every year, for the last six years you’d been working at PwC. You knew this - it was inevitable.

Except, earlier that morning, you’d been at your desk reading the WSJ with your coffee and had seen a headline. A stupid, annoying headline that had made you purse your lips, realization dawning as you rushed to check your pay stub on workday.

Pentagon Refocuses Spending on Weapons to Deter China

As you read further, you saw that as part of the FY24 budget, the Pentagon was increasing the $30.6B defense budget a further 12% with a focus on missiles, rockets, and - yes - airplanes, specifically for the Air Force.

Uncle Sam was taking 35% of taxes out of your bonus for that? Fuck that.

So, when Bradley came by your apartment later that afternoon, freshly showered after a quick trip to the gym after work, you were steaming. And though it was not Bradley’s fault - not in the slightest - seeing him in that stupid(ly tight), grey, US Navy t-shirt only further contributed to your sour mood.

“Hey!” he called out, letting himself in with his key. You turned your head towards him and hummed, letting out a gruff hi. He toed off his sneakers and left them by the door before coming over to where you were laying on the couch, doom scrolling through Instagram, and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

He frowned at your tepid response and you felt like a absolute bitch for a moment. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You briefly glanced at Bradley and then went back to staring - glaring - at your phone. “I’m just in a mood - tired.”

You could see him doing the mental math, trying to figure out if you were on your period, but that wasn’t until next week. “S’okay. We can just hang out and have an early -”

“- Crash any planes today?” the words slipped out before you could think better of it. Before he could even respond, you cut Bradley off. “What’s it matter anyway? They’ll just buy you new ones? Fuck the kids, I mean, they don’t need to eat school lunch? And the Postal Service can cut off Saturday delivery? Hmmmm maybe we should cut Social Security even more? Our infrastructure doesn’t need to be fixed, let’s just let our bridges and roads crumble! Fucking taxes bullshit.”

“Uhhh...”

You got up in a huff and started pacing, getting more and more worked up. “It’s not that I mind paying taxes - well, that’s not totally true. But like? Actually put them towards something that’s going to help people? Not just stupid rockets and missiles and fucking -”

“- Did you get your tax refund or something?”

Bradley was standing next to you, trying to put his hands on your shoulders in what would have been a calming motion had you not been acting completely crazy over eleven thousand dollars.

“It’s October?” you snapped.

“I don’t know?” Bradley shrugged his shoulders, getting a little worked up himself. “Rich people are weird? And your dad seems like he’d know how - nevermind.” You rolled your eyes. “What happened?”

Your shoulders sagged. Fuck, this wasn’t Bradley’s fault. It was that piece of shit House Majority Leader’s, who was so far up Lockheed Martin’s ass he could see -

“I got my year end bonus check today…” you grumbled.

Like you figured, a huge smile lit up Bradley’s face. “That’s amazing - or not?” he backtracked.

“I lost like 35% of it to taxes.”

“Ahhh.”

“And I saw this article in the Journal this morning about the new Pentagon budget and how they’re purchasing these new planes for the Air Force and it just - it’s dumb but it made me mad because I just wish my taxes went to the things that will actually benefit the average American?”

Bradley tucked your hair behind your ear and clucked your chin. “That’s a lot to put on your shoulders, kid…”

“Do you think I’m acting like a brat?” You knew you were, you were just curious if Bradley would say the same thing.

He made a face. “Well,” the word dragged out, “maybe a little…” You hung your head and leaned against his chest. “But it’s kind of valid, I’d be pretty pissed losing all that out to the Air Force, too. But the Navy’s different. They don’t just put anyone in the cockpit -”

“- Oh, really?” You peered up at him. “And how many planes have you crashed, Bradley?”

He pursed his lips. “Like on purpose or -”

You threw your hands up and groaned, eventually making your way over to your bar cart. “- Like on purpose he says! Bradley!”

There wasn’t any ice in the ice bucket, but you didn’t care. You needed something. Anything to take the edge off. You were too annoyed, too fussy - too bratty.

As you poured yourself - and Bradley - a drink, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed in your ear, “I promise you, I have only crashed three planes on purpose.”

Oh how you wanted to laugh. You leaned back against Bradley’s chest, fully ensconced in the smell of his soap and aftershave. “Hmmm, that’s $195M down the drain. Could’ve fed a lot of kids in Kern County with that money, repaved a lot of roads, too…”

He grabbed the drink you had poured for yourself and took a sip, hissing at the burn of the tequila. “I don’t know about the kids, but I can make it up to you.”

The glass was placed back on the bar cart with a clink and Bradley placed his right hand on your hip, while the left slipped underneath the waistband of your skirt and eventually your underwear. Your whole body sagged against him and you hated how keen you were for this - for him. Apparently you really had just needed to get fucked.

“Such a pretty girl…even if you are a bit of a brat sometimes,” he finished, nipping at your ear. “Hey, kid?” You hummed. “You know if I was an astronaut I would cost the US government even more money, you still sure you want me to go down that route?”

“Shut up and fuck me, rocketman.”

“Can do, hell I’ll even buy you dinner.”

-----------

this was so random so i hope people actually like it??? idk if no one does i never wrote it??

small taglist: @howdysebby (happy early birthday!) @sometimesanalice (thanks for the eyes alexa!) @notroosterbradshaw @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @rae-gar-targaryen @jupitercomet @sunderlust @softspiderling @seasonsbloom @heartsofminds @cloudycluster

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

"Did you lie to me?" Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F! Reader

Summary: The Daggers are about to embark on the most dangerous mission of their career. The odds are survival are slim. Too bad that your boyfriend Rooster has failed to mention that.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F! Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, lying, he's so pretty but that doesn't mean smart.

Cross Posted on AO3

“How you feelin’ kid?” Maverick sits at one of the stools, his hands tightening on the glass of bourbon before him, the glass sweating from how long he’s sat there. 

You glance across the room at Rooster, laughing with the rest of the squad, “I don’t really want him to go, but it’s his duty.” 

“You’re taking it a lot better than Penny,” he shakes his head, swallowing the last mouthful of liquor. Your brow furrows and you lean closer to hear him above the crowd, “I’m gonna do my best to bring him back home, but this mission,” he sighs, “this one I’m not so sure any of us are coming back from.” 

The glass in your hand shatters and his eyes widen as he stands, “I’m sorry kid, I wasn’t thinking…” Maverick starts apologizing but you put a hand up, and it visibly trembles. 

“It’s that serious?” You ignore the way he swears, obviously realizing that you have no idea. “Rooster didn’t tell me any details obviously,” you mumbled to yourself running over every word he’d said, “but he told me it was safe, a surefire mission, nothing to worry about.” 

You glance up at Bradley, his eyes meeting yours across the bar and the smile drops from his face. He hands the pool cue over to Hangman and quickly crosses to you, “You okay, baby?” he reaches a hand out for your shoulder when you take a step back, out of his reach. 

“Did you lie to me?” you whisper, the tears getting choked in your throat. From behind him the over aviators close in noticing the tension vibrating from your body. 

“What?” Bradley furrows, “I can’t hear you, baby.” 

“I said,” you raise your voice, other patrons turning closer, “did you lie to me?” His expression turns somber and you let out a sob, covering your mouth, “oh, my god,” you whisper, “you did.” 

“Robbie,” Bradley calls out, “can you cover?” his eyes never leave yours, “she needs to go home.” 

“Fuck that,” you shake your head, the tears falling down your cheeks, “you were just going to let me work till close while you drank a beer and played pool with your friends, knowing that you could be going off to die tomorrow?! You didn’t even have the decency to warn me.” 

“I didn’t want it to change anything,” he shouts back, his voice cold, “yeah,” he nods, “there is a strong probability if I’m chosen I don’t make it back alive. Is that what you wanted to hear?!” 

“Rooster,” Phoenix puts a hand on his arm, grimacing over at you, “calm down, man.” 

He pulls his arm out of her grip, turning back to you. “I saw what losing my dad, did to my mom. I saw how she would worry herself sick waiting for him to come back. I didn’t want that for you. I just wanted to leave you with a happy normal night, is that too much to ask?! But no, you have to go turn it into a goddamn soap opera. What?” he throws his arms up, “did you want to lay in each other’s arms and cry? Is that what you want?!” 

You wrap your arms around yourself, knuckles turning white with how hard you’re clenching, and the tears are silently spilling down your cheeks. He’s breathing hard, the anger seeping out as he takes in your trembling form, “fuck,” he whispers, pressing his palm to his eyes, “Baby, I-I didn’t mean it.” 

“Please just go,” you whisper, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie you stole from his closet before work. He lowers his hands, his eyes watching you but you refuse to meet them, focusing on a point on the bar. “I just want to get back to work, we’ll have a normal night, just like you wanted.” 

“Baby,” he reaches out but the others hold him back. 

“She needs some space,” Bob puts a hand on his chest, “just give her some time.” 

“Yeah,” Phoenix nods, “that was a lot Rooster.” 

You can’t listen to them anymore so you switch sides with Robbie, his hand softly pressed to your shoulder. “You can head out,” he nods toward the door, “I can handle the rest of the night by myself.” 

“I’m scheduled to close,” you remind him, “and besides, I don’t have anywhere I need to be right now.” He lets go with a nod and takes his place before the others, Rooster arguing with them. 

“If you’re not ordering a drink, then get the hell out of the bar before I ring the bell on your sorry ass,” Robbie puts his beefy arms over his chest. 

You tune the rest out, making drinks and focusing on the routine and pattern. Rooster is eventually pulled away from the bar and back to the pool tables but he stays in a hightop in the corner watching your every move. His eyes burn as they follow you but you don’t have the heart to even glance up at him. 

Robbie clocks out, giving you a wave and glaring over at Rooster before he locks the door behind him. Everyone else is long gone, leaving just the two of you alone at the bar.

“Please just go,” you finally turn towards him when you hear the chair being moved out at the bartop. His eyes are bloodshot and he swallows hard, as you turn your back to him. 

“Are you coming home?” he asks, his voice trembling. 

“No,” you shake your head, “I’m going to stay at Penny’s. I sent her a text a few hours ago and she said it was no problem.” 

“Baby,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“Sorry for what?” you walk over to him, “Sorry for yelling at me in front of an entire bar for giving a shit? Or sorry for lying to me about how you're going on a suicide mission?” 

He goes to answer when you cut him off, a hand to your chest, “Oh, I’m sorry,” you gasp, “is this too much of a soap opera for you?” 

“I deserve that,” he nods, “and all the rest of it. Baby,” he holds out a hand, “I’m so fucking sorry for all of it. I should never have lied to you, I was just trying to spare you.” 

“Spare me?” 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he stands, coming over to the opening of the bar bending down to get in and walk to your side. “I was so fucking scared that if I told you the truth, you would spend the next few days worried sick. And when I didn’t come back-” 

“If,” you correct him taking a step closer, “if you didn’t come back.” 

“If,” he puts his hands gently on your waist, “I didn’t want your last memory of me to be sick with worry. I was trying to keep everything normal to spare you the pain.” 

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Bradley Bradshaw. I love you, I should be given the choice of whether I get to worry or not. And for the record, we’ve only been together a short time and I already know I’ll ALWAYS worry about you when you’re gone.” 

He’s gone slack-jawed, and you realize what you’ve said. “You love me?” he whispers and the tears stream down his cheek, he clears his throat before asking again. “Do you love me?” 

“I do,” you whisper, “I love you so fucking much, Rooster.” He grabs the back of your head and pulls you close, your back digging into the bar as he devours your mouth. 

You come up for air a few minutes later and he holds your face keeping your eyes on him. “I love you,” he mumbles between kisses, “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you. But I didn’t want to scare you off.” 

“Well you need to get used to something, Bradley Bradshaw, if we’re going to be together forever.” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“And what’s that?” he leans back and forth taking you with him as he rocks you both to the jukebox still playing in the corner. 

“You don’t spare my feelings, or try to protect me. I can make up my own mind.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, “noted.” 

“Now Bradshaw?” you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Yes, ma’am?” he grins, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Take me to bed, or lose me forever.” 

[thatlovinfeelin]

Swan Song | Jake Hangman Seresin |

Carole Bradshaw was pregnant when Goose died. Newly pregnant, too early to even know. The pregnancy was hard, not just emotionally but physically. The birth was even harder, but in the end Carole was left with a beautiful baby girl. She had Goose’s eyes from the start, big and brown, just like her big brother Bradley. Her smile was contagious from the very beginning and soon she was growing into a beautiful young woman. 

Y/N was very close with her big brother Bradley. They were nearly inseparable. So when Bradley joined the Navy, it took everything to convince Y/N that she shouldn’t follow in his footsteps. She went to college nearby, and got her degree slowly but surely. And once it was all said and done, and Bradley had a permanent position at Miramar, Y/N joined him there. 

“C’mon! Just take me for one drink!” You begged your older brother, “You never let me meet any of your friends! Even Penny said you should let me come!”

“Penny needs to mind her own business,” Bradley grumbled, throwing on one of your dad’s old Hawaiian shirts. 

“No, Penny definitely needs to butt in more,” You argued, “She wants me to actually make friends here. Outside of the studio!” 

“You’re the one who decided to move here,” Bradley pointed out. 

“And you’re the one who keeps me virtually locked up here!” 

“It’s my job to protect you. None of the people I work with are worth knowing, anyway, aside from Phoenix maybe.”

“Great, so introduce me to Phoenix!” You begged. 

“One drink,” He held up one finger, eyebrows pinched tight. He wasn’t joking. You were his baby sister, it was his job to look after you and protect you from everyone and everything. Including everyone he worked with. 

He wasn’t even sure if the Daggers knew he had a little sister. Phoenix and Bob knew, because they were Phoenix and Bob. But the others had no idea, and Bradley planned on keeping it that way if he could help it. He wanted you to stay as far away from military men as you possibly could 

“Two,” You bargained. 

“Fine, then you’re coming home.”

“You have to play me one song too,” You said firmly, “One round of Great Balls and I’ll be happy.”

“You have yourself a deal,” He sighed, “Now c’mon. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

You threw your arms up in victory and ran to go change quickly out of your leotard. Twenty minutes later, you were pulling into the parking lot of the famous Hard Deck. Another five minutes after that and you had a cocktail in your hands as you watched Brad mingle with various people in uniform. He hated wearing his uniform to the Hard Deck, he always came home to change first. 

“Penny, my dear, can I get another one?” A blonde asked, “Thanks darlin!” 

You rolled your eyes and took another sip. Once the blonde had his new bottle of beer he turned his attention to you, which you were hoping to avoid. You had watched him watching just about every girl in this bar. He seemed to know everyone, and know all of the girls. It made you want to be sick. 

“Now who might you be, sweetheart?” 

You eyed Penny, who not so casually eyed the bell by the corner of the bar top. You wanted to laugh knowing she’d ring this guy in an instant for you. All you had to do was say the word. 

“Not your type,” You replied, taking another sip, “Try the leggy blonde at the other end. She’s drooling over all of you patches.”

“I don’t think I want a tag chaser,” He replied, southern draw on full display, “What’s your name?”

You huffed before setting your cocktail down on the bar in front of you and turning slightly to face the man, “They call me Swan.”

“You a pilot?” He questioned, eyebrows raised. 

“No, just related to one. My uncles gave me my own callsign when I was a kid,” you weren’t sure why you were even telling him any of this. You really wanted to tell him to fuck off back to whatever backwoods hovel he came from. 

But there was something about the way he was looking at you that made you want to see a little more of him. His green eyes were intoxicating, and you were certain he used that to his advantage with all of the ladies. You didn’t want to be another notch on his bedpost. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as he brought the bottle to his lips. You did a quick survey of the bar to see if Brad was anywhere around, but he was engrossed in a game of pool with several other uniforms. Maybe you could have a bit of fun tonight. Just for this one time. 

“What do they call you?” You asked, leaning in a little further. 

“Hangman.”

Fuck. You knew that name. He worked directly with Bradley, and obviously he had no idea who you were, otherwise he wouldn’t be talking to you. If he knew he would probably be fending off the guy at the other end of the bar who wouldn’t stop eyeing you. 

“Well, Hangman,” You said leaning in a little closer, “Why don’t you buy me another drink?”

He smiled slowly and waved over one of the other bar tenders, Grace you think her name was, and then there was another drink in your hand. 

“So, what brings you here? Never seen you before,” Hangman asks over the music. 

“My brother and I live nearby, finally convinced him to bring me along with him tonight,” You replied simply. 

“Do you need your brother’s permission?” He playfully questioned. 

“I think you’ll find, Hangman, that I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

You drank the rest of your cocktail and slid off of the barstool, “Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes and find out.”

And that was the first time you fucked Jake Hangman Seresin. In the bathroom of the Hard Deck, while your brother and all of his friends were just feet away. Brad never found out though. Instead he marched his way over to the piano and started playing Great Balls the second you reappeared from the bathroom. You laughed and skipped over, sliding onto the bench next to him. 

Jake was a little confused, watching you cozy up to Bradley when he’d been balls deep inside of you just minutes before. He was seething when you leaned over and kissed Rooster’s cheek. He didn’t think you were one to be fast and loose with everyone. But maybe he was wrong. After all, he didn’t even know your real name. 

“Who’s that with Rooster?” He asked Phoenix through gritted teeth. 

“Uh, I think that’s his little sister,” She replied, “Y/N, but everyone calls her Swan.”

Fuck. Jake Hangman Seresin was fucked. Because he’d just fucked Bradshaw’s baby sister. The baby sister that he only mentioned in passing because he had a picture of her in his locker and in his plane. Jake joked one day  that she had to be a hell of a girl and Rooster let it slip, as if he didn’t even realize he’d said it. Maybe he didn’t. But Jake felt like he was going to be sick. 

Did you know who he was? 

When the music stopped Rooster came over to the Dagger group, you following closely behind him. You had a soft smile on your face as Bradley went around the group and introduced you. But when he got to Hangman you smile turned almost innocent, so much so it made Jake hard again just looking at you. You were smiling like you didn’t have his dick in your mouth, or so deep in your pussy that you kept saying you could feel him in your stomach. 

“Hangman, this is my baby sister,” Bradley grumbled, “Y/N, this is Jake. But we all call him Hangman.”

You smiled again and stuck out your hand, “Nice to meet you, you can call me Swan.” 

You were both very much fucked. Because all either one of you wanted to do was grab the other and continue what you started in the bathroom. All you wanted to do was kiss him silly in front of everyone, and then drag him to his no doubt, big pickup truck, and fuck him in it. Truth be told, that’s all Jake wanted to do too. 

“Nice to meet you, Swan.”

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 2) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: It's Phoenix and Coyote's wedding. Also known as the day that Jake Seresin reached his limit.

Series Master List

Master List

You slowly smoothed down your dress in the mirror for maybe the thousandth time, convinced that you could see a very noticeable bump there. Penny assured you that even if you had an actual bump now, it wasn’t noticeable, but your brain still fabricated that image. Part of you worried that someone would make a comment about your appearance, but there was nothing that you could do now.

“Are you okay? You look really nervous,” Emma asked, causing you to look away from the mirror.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground as you tried to come up with a white lie to cover your ass. “Just nervous about my speech later. That’s all.”

“You were great at my wedding. I’m sure that you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Emma.”

“Anytime,” Emma replied with a bright smile. Squeezing your hand supportively, she turned to head over to the room that Phoenix was getting ready in. “I’m going to go check on Phoenix. But did you need anything else?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, Emma.”

You watched as Emma walked off before slowly turning back to the mirror. Resting your hand over your abdomen, you let out a breath to steady yourself.

After you took the pregnancy tests and probably cried to Penny about it for about a half an hour straight, you knew that you needed some time to process everything before talking about it with anyone else. And then there was the whole subject of Phoenix’s wedding, which you didn’t want to upstage in the slightest.

So, you just kept it to yourself. Well, yourself and Penny.

You went to work in the morning, came home, made yourself dinner or picked something up along the way, and just hibernated. You didn’t go to hang out with anyone else outside of the wedding-related events. You just stayed home and got lost in your thoughts.  

Jake texted you every day, but you always made up some lame excuse to get out of whatever plans he tried to set up. The truth was simple—you were terrified of what Jake’s reaction would be. Sure, the two of you had been messing around for several months now—almost a year technically, if you counted all of the months that he was deployed.

But the two of you weren’t together. You weren’t a couple. And you didn’t plan this.

Would Jake even want a kid? Were kids in his life plan at all? Did he even see a slight future with you in order to make it work? Would he dump you on the spot? Would he want to be heavily involved? Would it all go up in flames?

You had no idea. And it wasn’t like you could look at Jake’s childhood for any indication.

He was absolutely tight lipped about his upbringing and you had never been able to crack him. All you knew was that he grew up in Texas and that the slightest mention of his dad got him to shut down. And that was about all you knew about Jake Seresin’s life before the Navy.

It was a recipe for disaster and you were not ready to handle it. So, you avoided him.

And, of course, you were also totally convinced that when you finally sat him down to talk about it, you were going to cry and cause a scene. And that wasn’t taking into account whatever his reaction was going to be. So, you pushed it off. You cared too much for Phoenix and Coyote to even risk interrupting their wedding in the slightest.

But tomorrow, after the wedding was wrapped up, you would tell Jake. You would tell Jake that you were pregnant with his baby.

~~~~~

Jake stared down at his phone for a moment, scrolling through his last few texts to you. He texted you last night after you spent the entirety of the rehearsal dinner avoiding his presence. And Jake just automatically assumed that he did something to upset you, so he sent you a generic apologetic text. But all you responded with was some bullshit about being stressed about the wedding and that was it.

Jake Seresin wasn’t used to being the one who was more attached in a situation-ship.

He never had been. His job and his personality combined ensured that. At a moment’s notice, he could be sent to the other end of the world, which didn’t exactly give him much time to build strong bonds with his partner and inevitably led to strain. And then there was the fact that he was just an asshole who pushed people’s buttons easily.

He had left a long train of relationships—though perhaps he was using that term a little too liberally—in his life that blew up because he was an asshole who ran his mouth when he was pushed to be vulnerable. He had his career to propel him forward and he didn’t need any of the additional bullshit that seemed to come with every relationship, so he just didn’t put up with it.

But this relationship—whatever you wanted to call it—with you wasn’t bullshit. That was real shit. And Jake was growing more and more annoyed that you were dodging his texts and his presence. He was the desperate type, but he really could have used a text back from you. Or just an answer about what he did wrong to piss you off.

Was that really asking too much?

“Why do you look so pissed?” Rooster asked, causing Jake to quickly pick his head up.

Sliding his phone into his pocket, Jake cleared his throat as he turned to face Rooster. He wasn’t too worried about anyone seeing the texts between the two of you. After all, you were saved in his phone as ‘Honey B,’ so it wasn’t like anyone would see your name. And it had been about two weeks since you sent him a sexy photo anyways.

“Nothing. Just want to get this started already,” Hangman lied, adjusting his dress white jacket a bit.

“Right,” Rooster replied, eyeing Hangman curiously for a moment. “Is Javy ready?”

“He’s been ready since like five this morning,” Jake dismissed, glancing back at the room where Javy was by himself. “He wanted to be alone to fix his vows.”

“Again?”

“For the twelfth time,” Jake replied, shaking his head. “He wants to make sure that they’re perfect.”

“Well, Javy’s the type to only get married once. I get where he’s coming from.”

Jake knew that Rooster didn’t intend that as a dig, but he still took it as one. After all, Rooster was setting up to live that picket fence life with a wife and a house and probably a gaggle of kids and a dog or a cat or both. It’d be like a postcard for the perfect family.

And Jake knew that Rooster didn’t think that he was that type to do the same. And Jake also knew that Rooster was probably right about that. And Jake was also pretty sure that him repeatedly hooking up with Rooster’s little sister wouldn’t help Rooster’s image of him. Especially if Rooster ever found out that the first time that they ever hooked up was at Rooster’s wedding.

But he was an asshole, remember?

Rooster was about to add something else when his phone started to buzz. He pulled it out and Jake immediately spotted your name on Rooster’s screen. Ignoring the way that his chest contracted against his will, Hangman listened in as Rooster answered the phone call.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Phoenix wanted me to make sure that Javy was alright,” you stated, sounding amused. “I think that she’s worried that he’ll get cold feet.”

“He’s fixing his vows, according to Hangman,” Rooster responded to you.

“Oh,” you replied, in a way that made Jake wince. “Can you just make sure he didn’t climb out the window or anything like that? Please?”

Hangman nodded and walked over to the room that Javy had taken shelter in. Knocking lightly on the door, Jake opened the door to find Javy fixing his suit in the mirror. When he saw Jake standing there, Javy turned and practically radiated pure joy. Hangman turned back to Rooster, who passed along the message to you.

“Great. We’re going to be on time. Don’t be late, Brad Brad.”

“I think that we can handle it,” Bradley assured you, rolling his eyes lightly. “Bye.”

Jake watched Bradley hang up the call, letting a rock settle in his stomach. Pursing his lips together, Jake pushed all of his thoughts about you to the back of his mind and turned to face Coyote, who was already walking over to him.

“You ready?”

“I was born ready,” Javy returned, grabbing Jake’s shoulder with a tight squeeze.

~~~~~

You could feel Jake staring at you through the entire ceremony. You could feel his eyes on you when you walked down the aisle with your bouquet. You could feel his eyes on you when you stepped forward to take Phoenix’s bouquet and fix her dress. You could feel his eyes on you when you stood behind Phoenix, supporting her as she said her vows to Coyote.

And when Coyote and Phoenix walked down the aisle together, hand-in-hand for the first time as a married couple, you and Jake locked eyes across the altar. And the fact that you were standing there with a bouquet and he was in his dress whites and the tiny detail that you were pregnant with his baby was just a little too much for you to take.

Jake offered you his arm, and after swallowing some nervous bile, you looped your arm through his and started walking down the aisle together. You looked out through the crowd and quickly spotted Penny and Maverick. Maverick waved to you before going back to clapping, blissfully unaware of the situation. And Penny shot you a supportive look that you needed to get your breath back into your lungs.

You could do this. You could make it through one more day.

Jake didn’t say anything to you as you walked down the aisle, probably sensing that it wasn’t an appropriate time to discuss your relationship. But once you were out of the view of the crowd, he gently pulled you to the side. Jake called your name softly, causing you to turn to face him properly.

“Look, I know that it’s been crazy and everything, but I was hoping to talk to you about . . . everything,” Jake spoke softly as the rest of the wedding party walked into the atrium behind you. “Please.”

Gripping your bouquet even tighter, you looked around the atrium for prying eyes and listening ears before turning back to Jake, who looked far more desperate for your attention that you were used to seeing him. And that realization made your heart break just a bit more, since you knew that you were the person who did that to him.

But you couldn’t do it. Not today. Not here. Not at the reception. Tomorrow. It had to be tomorrow.

“Tomorrow,” you stated, a bit firmly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Come on, we’re going to miss them,” Emma encouraged, grabbing your hand and pulling you along.  

Jake watched you go with a slightly stunned expression, almost as if he was slapped in the face, as you walked away from him like he was just some random guy. But just as soon as you slipped out of his grip, he put up his usual mask when he spotted the wedding crowd starting to file out.

He expected you to be a bit skittish, but not that skittish. And that made his mind wander to the worst possible situation.  

~~~~~

“One for you and one for you,” Bradley stated, handing you and Emma a glass of champagne each.

After a very awkward photo shoot—at least as far as you and Jake went—everyone moved onto the reception hall for drinks and dinner. But given the information that you found out a few days ago, you stared down at the glass of champagne with a slightly panicked expression. How the hell were you going to spend the whole night dodging alcohol? It was a fucking wedding. A Navy wedding too.

Shit, you didn’t think this through.

“Thank you,” Emma mused, pressing a loving kiss to Bradley’s lips.

“Yeah . . .” you trailed off nervously.

Looking around for somewhere to dump the alcohol, you let out a breath when you spotted Penny and Maverick walking over to you. Penny saw the glass in your hand and nodded discreetly. While the five of you chatted and caught up, Penny switched your glass with her half-empty one.

“Thank you,” you whispered to her, causing her to smile softly.

“Don’t mention it. And you just have to wait for everyone to get through their first few drinks and then no one will notice,” Penny assured you, giving you that maternal support that you desperately needed in that moment. “Worst comes to worst, just dump it.”

“I just need to get through my speech and then I’ll be fine,” you sighed, glancing around the room.

“Ooh, are you looking for Javy’s friend from back home?” Emma asked, causing you to turn to her. “You know, the one who was flirting with you last night?”

“Who?” Bradley questioned, causing Emma to shoot him a look.

“She’s not a teenager. Let her live a little,” Emma scoffed, bumping her husband with her hip before turning back to you. “And I thought that he was really into you.”

“Who is he?” Maverick inquired, earning a look from Penny.

“Oh, don’t you start either. You’re far from a saint yourself, Pete.”

“I’m not looking to meet anyone tonight,” you stated, trying to end the conversation then and there. “Just trying to get through my speech, get a slice of cake, and toss these stupid heels out the window as soon as possible.”

“I have an extra pair of flats in my bag, if you wanted them,” Emma offered, causing you to perk up.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you joked, dragging her away from your brother.

“Love you too,” Bradley scoffed, shaking his head as he watched the two of you walk off.

The reception got going shortly after that. Phoenix and Coyote made their grand entrance, dinner was served, and then it was time for your speech. Everything went smoothly, since you spent the entire week memorizing it. And then Jake gave his speech, during which you alternated between staring at him with damning intensity and hiding from his gaze in a dizzying cycle.

When the dance floor opened up and everyone started to break into their own separate activities, you slipped away to grab a drink. Ordering a ginger ale, you made your way out onto the back balcony where it was nice and cool. Resting your head in your hands, you took a moment to compose yourself.

You were exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. And now that most of the wedding was done, your mind was only focusing on the inevitable conversation with Jake that was fast approaching whether you wanted to have it or not. Mostly because Jake watched you slip away and took his opportunity to speak with you alone.

“Are you alright?” Jake asked quietly, causing you to pick up your head.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, gripping the railing tightly. “Why do you ask?”

“Because for the last week, you’ve been avoiding me,” Jake pointed out, moving to stand beside you. Staring into your eyes, Jake frowned when you immediately broke eye contact. “And now you won’t even look at me.” He called your name, causing you to pick your head up. “What is going on?”

“I can’t talk about it right now,” you stated softly, glancing back into the reception hall. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Why can’t we talk about it today?” Jake countered, causing you to purse your lips. “What’s going on?”

“I . . . it’s not right to talk about it right now.”

“Why not?”

“It’s Javy and Nat’s wedding. It’s not our event,” you pushed back against Jake stubbornly. You would never forgive yourself if you somehow ruined this wedding and you weren’t even going to approach the subject with Jake until after the wedding was all wrapped up. “And I’m not going to cause a scene at their wedding. It’s not fair to them.”

“How are we going to cause a scene? We’re just talking.”

“We’re both tired,” you pointed out, reaching for your ginger ale. “It’s been a long day.”

“Are there any other excuses that you’d like to use?” Jake asked, causing you to turn your head sharply to shoot him a look. “I mean, is there a list that you’re checking off?”

“Are you seriously giving me that attitude right now?” you shot back, standing up for yourself.

“Well, apparently there’s no other way to get a reaction out of you,” Jake returned, causing you to look away from him.

“Why can’t we just talk about it tomorrow?” you replied with a false sense of calm.

“Because after the last couple of days where all you have done is avoid me and dodge my texts, I’m not convinced that you’ll actually talk to me tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m not talking about it right now.”

“Then I guess we’re never going to talk about it then,” he stated, causing you to whirl around.

Jake shot you one last hurt expression before turning and walking off to rejoin the reception. You thought that he was just trying to call your bluff but when he ignored your calls for him to come back, you knew that he was serious.

“Jake,” you called one last time, but he was already gone.

Turning back to the landscape, hot tears started to roll down your cheeks. Did you just ruin everything? Was Jake done with you forever now? Should you have just fucking talked about it? Should you have just yelled it after him when he stormed off?

Feeling another wave of nausea roll over you, you sought refuge in a dark corner of the balcony. Leaning against the wall, you slowly slumped down and let out a quiet, pitiful sob.

Tags (PRETTY PLEASE have your AGE on your blog or message me about it to be tagged--thank you!):

@mrsjobarnes @wishiwasacasualfan

[kiyomi-86]

ride the cyclone waterpark hcs because I'm bored

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

ocean--

- definitely wears the highest SPF sunscreen she has

- has those little arm floats in the lazy river

-wants to go on every waterslide

-scolds anyone who goes down a slide headfirst and reads all the warnings and rules outloud while in line with the rest of the choir

- makes a whole detailed plan and talks about the risks in the car, and makes sure everyone put on sunscreen

- she still got burned

- brought a whole cooler of healthy snacks and waters

- definitely pulled up in a long sleeved one piece

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

constance --

- wears really clunky goggles

- wants to go on the biggest waterslide at the park

- refuses to get on any slide that drops through the floor

- drinks aLOT of water before going because ocean scared her into thinking chlorine is very dehydrating

- has a galaxy print swimsuit

- buys cotton candy or ice cream

----------------------------------------------penny--

- doesn't go on alot of slides

- thinks the smaller slides are a waste of time and refuses to go on them

- brings like 3 different bottles of Gatorade

- pushed mischa down a slide because noel said he'd give her a dollar

- bought a pink dolphin float

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

noel --

- barely goes on any slides

- stays at the lazy river or waiting in line in some rides that the whole choir wanted to go on

- had an argument with ocean in the car

- him and penny played monkey in the middle with oceans arm floats

- she wasn't very happy about that one

- avoids the kids play area like the plague

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

mischa--

- listens to his own rap music the whole car ride there

- cussed ocean out in Ukrainian at one point in the car

- wearing a baseball cap the whole time there, it never fell off somehow

- put a waterproof bag on his phone so he could use it in line

- went on every slide

- is slightly scared of pool jets and will not get too close to one

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

ricky--

- holds everyone's stuff when they go on slides so they don't need to buy a locker

- sometimes penny sits out on slides to sign with him

- he definitely wore a t shirt and swim shorts

- was drawing zolar fanart on ibispaint in the car

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

[sorchathered]

Dream Come True

Pairing- Bob Floyd/reader

Warnings-maybe language? It’s just straight fluff with maybe a twinge of angst.

Summary- reader can’t keep her feelings to herself anymore, Bob is an absolute dreamboat.

The Hard Deck is completely packed, everyone is off for the holiday weekend and it couldn’t be more overwhelming. You and Bob have hunkered down in a corner booth near the pool tables, nursing your beers while you watch the rest of the squad attempt to take on Hangman and Coyote at what is sure to be another devastating loss.

Bob comes back from the bar with more peanuts as you notice a few girls at the bar looking at him like he could be their next meal, and in true Bob fashion, he is absolutely clueless at just how hot he actually is. Just as charming as Rooster, and definitely just as handsome as Hangman; but the shy soft spoken man in front of you seems completely unaware of the looks he gets every time he steps into Penny’s bar. It’d almost be funny if you weren’t also one of the girls vying for his attention and getting absolutely nowhere.

“Goodness it sure is busy tonight, those girls couldn’t have gotten closer to me if they tried” he said, and you can’t help but throw your head back and laugh at how oblivious he was.

He quirks an eyebrow in your direction as you settle down with a deep sigh.

“You really don’t know the effect you have on people do you?” You say, mostly to yourself shaking your head with a smile, staring at your beer instead of at the bewildered WSO sitting next to you.

“Wha- Who? Me?!” Bob is beet red now, looking absolutely anywhere but at your face.

“Yes you! They were practically throwing themselves at you goofball!” Facepalming and erupting in giggles at the shock on his face.

He’s laughing with you in earnest now, but you can tell he still doesn’t quite believe you.

“Well that’s awful sweet of them darlin’ but I’ve got everything I need right here” reaching across the table and patting your hand, lingering a little longer than normal for two people who are supposedly just friends.

It’s always been like this, ever since the two of you met in the academy almost a decade ago. Sure you’ve both dated other people, but it never goes anywhere. Everyone always jokes that you’ll be married with a brood of kids one day and it gets passed off with an awkward laugh and quick subject change.

One of you is going to have to have the courage to breach whatever this is; a crush, sexual tension, love? Oh God shut up brain don’t get ahead of yourself…you’re smarter than this, if he had wanted you he would have said something by now. You could come out of your skin just thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, be his girlfriend, one day be his wife…

He’s looking at you now, eyebrows furrowed and looking a little worried that maybe the heat has gotten to you after all because you’ve all but spaced out trying to fight the war you’re having internally.

“Sweets if you think any harder your head is gonna explode, what’s going on up there?”

You open your mouth to tell him everything is fine but that is definitely (unfortunately) not what comes flying out.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since we got back to Top Gun, hell probably longer than that and I doubt you feel the same and oh God this is so awkward you know what just forget I ever said anything.” You blurted it out, literal word vomit. Good job genius now he probably thinks you’re nuts.

You can’t stay and look, it’s too hot in your little corner booth and you can feel the walls closing in so you jump up and whisper a half ass apology as you push out through the crowd and mercifully make it through the door.

Gasping in the sea air and trying to regulate your breathing are proving to be difficult now, because omg what the hell were you thinking? You told your colleague (yes he was more like your best friend but nevertheless) Bob Freaking Floyd, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen that you are in love with him and then ran out of the bar like Cinderella at midnight.

While your brain is spinning out of control, you barely notice the door opening behind you, and you certainly didn’t expect to startle as the person that came through the door links his fingers with yours.

It’s him, because of course it is. You knew better than to think you could just drop a bomb like that thinking he would let it go. Taking a deep breath you spin around to his kind face and stupidly perfect blue eyes.

“You done spiraling so we can actually talk about what the hell just happened?” He says, rubbing the back of his neck and for the first time in years you can’t get a read on him. Normally you can clock how he’s feeling from a mile away but this…this is something different.

“Is there any way I can get you to forget it?”

“Not a chance”

“I- fine.”

You open and close your mouth and try to get the words out but there’s only one thing your brain is screaming at you.

3 words, 8 letters. You say it to him in your head every day, when he’s sharing his snacks with you during Mav’s long lectures, when you are watching whatever sci fi show he’s currently obsessing over and his rambling commentary has you laughing at his nerdiness, when he sees a dog in public and immediately has to burst out for you to look at the puppy and you completely swoon over him because he may be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

Just say it. Life is too damn short. Especially in your line of work.

“I love you Robby. If it screws everything up between us and we can’t move on from this I get it, but I can’t keep it in anymore I-I’m sorry.” You’re staring at your feet now, starting to wish you could just teleport to another place or jump in whatever Time Machine exists in his shows to go back to before this ever happened.

But Bob? Robert Floyd, man of your dreams? He’s not phased or shaken, not one bit. He leans in, pulls your face in with both his hands and kisses you like it’s something the two of you have always done, like it should be completely obvious to you that he’s always felt this way, he was just waiting for you to solve the puzzle yourself.

Pulling away far sooner than you’d like, he has the audacity to chuckle when you try to chase his lips.

“Silly girl, it’s always been you don’t you know that? I was just waitin’ on you to decide what you wanted, now mind you I didn’t think it’d take you this long, but I’d wait forever if it meant we ended up here.”

You let out a watery laugh as more tears stream down your face, Bob quick to swipe them away with his thumb.

“Come on sweets, let me take you home and we can spend all weekend talking about what our forever should look like, because now that I’ve got you I’m not letting you go.”

And you do just that, because he really is everything you ever dreamed.

[thebestsetter]

The emperor's bad luck

An: This is actually my first fic! Also, english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes! I just read Kaiser's backstory and got really sad. HE'S JUST A BABY 😭😭

Michael Kaiser has never been a lucky guy. And I'm not talking about that kind of luck of finding a penny on the floor or getting a question right even though you don't know the answer. I'm talking about a luck that is harder to be found nowadays: the luck to be born with a great family, with loving parents and awesome siblings. The kind of family that you see on magazine covers or billboards, smiling and having fun together, looking like they've never had a bad time.

His mother left him when he was just a baby. A Hollywood actress who has probably already acted as a mother in a movie, although not in real life with her own son: ironic, isn't it? She looked like an angel, with pretty blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, but her looks didn't reflect her personality: a cunning and clever woman.

So, she came up with a plan to make her fame grow: she laid down with a movie director. After she became more famous, she left the man all alone. Well, maybe not ALL alone. She left him with their son: Michael Kaiser. But the man didn't appreciate it and often abused Kaiser. For every mistake Michael made, he hit and tortured the poor boy. When Kaiser was barely 8, his father started sending him to the streets to steal food and other things, since the man couldn't really work because he began drinking (he also didn't want to work, and sending his kid to steal things was a lot easier).

- Now go, Kaiser! - the man said while waving a broken beer bottle in the air - and don't come back without that milk you forgot last time, or else I won't be as gentle with your punishment.

Michael grabbed the backpack his father handed him and ran out of his "home", not wanting to spend another second with that man.

"They found out I stole from that shop" Kaiser thought while looking at the shop he stole from the last time he went on his 'robbery spree' "so I have to find another one".

He then began walking across the neighbourhood trying to find somewhere to steal from. The blond boy came across a new shop he had never seen before: it was a small shop with red colored walls. The german child decided that was the one he was going to rob. Passing his small hands through the shelves full of things he couldn't even think of buying, Kaiser shoved the important things down his bag, such as eggs, butter and other things. He then came across the dairy session. Reaching for the milk, Michael quickly grabbed it and hid it into his bag, wanting to get out of there before he got caught, when suddenly he heard a gasp coming from behind him.

- Are you stealing milk? - a (h/c)nette girl said, startling Kaiser and causing him to drop the bag from his hands, making all the items of his backpack spread across the floor. Scared, he began to pick his things and stuff them back on the bag - hey, what are you doing? COME BACK HERE!

The girl began to chase him around the store while begging him to stop running. After some time, she finally caught up with him.

- I-I'm sorry - he said, panting - p-please don't turn me in! I need to steal to s-survive. My father doesn't work and my mother left me with him. I'm sorry, but I need this things!

- Don't worry, I won't report you! - she said, smiling - my father is the owner of the shop. I can give you some cookies and snacks to go and won't turn you in, but with one condition: you need to answer the question I wanted to ask you when I saw you stealing the milk.

- O-okay - he said in a calmer tone - what is it?

- Do you wanna be my friend? - she asked, her toothy grin appearing and almost blinding Kaiser because of how big and bright it was

- W-what? - he asked, making the girl repeat herself - sure, I guess…

- GREAT! You're my friend now! Come on, I'm gonna give you something to eat.

The girl gave Michael some snacks (without her father seeing them, of course) from that shelves that had things he thought he'd never get to eat and went to the door of the store to say goodbye to him.

- Bye hm… - she began, then gasped - You're my friend, but I don't know your name!

- I'm Michael Kaiser - he said, clearly a lot more confident around the girl, but still a little weary

- I'm (Name) (Last name) - she smiled, glad that she made a new friend - bye, Michael! Come here tomorrow again so we can play!

- (NAME)! COME HELP ME OUT IN THE SHOP! - they heard her father yell

- COMING - the girl shouted and waved goodbye to Kaiser for the last time before disappearing inside her family's shop.

Althought Kaiser was a guy that didn't have a great luck, he considered himself lucky for finding her: his first friend ever since he was born. And for the first time in a few years, Kaiser went to sleep with a full stomach and a happy mind, with a new found hope in his soul: a hope for a better future, with friends like (Name) (or maybe even her, if his luck suddenly decided to change) at his side.

[weirdfishy]

gotta urgent need for some not-quite-yet punkflower where hobie is chillin in some rubble post-(successful) battle all knackered out n miles is visiting (idk bc he just told his parents abt spiderman n it went well so he's bursting at the seems with love at being accepted n all yea? he's gotta tell someone, and why not him? why not hobie? it's no one else but hobie he's gotta tell, if he's being honest with himself [denile is not a river in his egypt, ok pav?] so yeah, he finds himself on 138) n catches the tail end of the battle, tracks down where hobie decided to make a couch outta concrete and lands in front of him, buzzing with cheezy lovey dovey feelins of elation, top o' the fucken world, and asks on abt hobie, rambling until hobie just lifts a hand, a silent ask for help up, (always asking for connection always makin sure they're actually there) n miles, have i mentioned he's happy? he's straight up a sap, so he takes that hand.

he takes that hand gently, bending at the waist a bit, dramatically sweeping back his other arm, bowing, for hell's sake, n plants a kiss on the back of hobie's hand, nice n proper, with a cheeky wink to boot (he'd finally fixed the eye mechanisms last week, thanks to penny), before pulling up new london's own spiderman chest to chest with a bright laugh that puts a different kind of stars in hobie's eyes, half dancing half belting out a song in spanish he doesn't quite understand but knows all the words to (it's some continental dialect, nothing his mami speaks, but would filter out the headphones of that kid in his building he walked w in middle school everyday)

before the sirens start getting closer n hobie can feel the warmth of miles-- the warmth of his smile, his hair that's still sparking from transdimensional travel, his arms, chest, laughter, everything, n all at once it pulls every affectionate n pining bit of hobie to the surface, if he weren't wearing his mask his blush would be so impossibly visible it's straight mad how much hobie loves n adores miles, how much seeing miles be happy lights hobie's whole fucking world

and oh, hobie's never seen a god he didn't punch, never believed in any one he couldn't, but right now, with his fingers entwined with miles', aches leaving his bones like he's never felt his left shoulder twinge the second it drops below 21 just because miles just yelled fuck off to the approaching pigs, he could fall to his knees n swear pious fealty to milesmilesmiles.

but hobie is cool (never has a label stuck to him like the one miles has given him), and his real, livin n breathing god is starting to ramble, so hobie webs them upupup, heat along his back as god wraps arms around him, breath on his neck as home weaves tales into the leather wrapping it.

then miles hears hobie's stomach growl, so he starts pulling them away from the path of what he knows is towards hobie's flat, and towards what he swears is the only good puerto rican food in the whole of hobie's haunt, his excitement steamrolling over his usual stuttering spanish, exchanging shouts n jeers with everyone behind the counter

bc everyone knows him, like miles has lived here, earth-138, new london, his whole life, like hobie brown being dragged into the shop every other week by miles morales to get the same two plates (n an extra something for miles to gush over n hobie to taste) is how the rest of this life will go, like hobie n miles are together, in a way that the unsubtle looks the owner's kid at the register is aiming at miles' left hand are correct, but don't involve stuffy socially religious systems like marriage

but they're not, as much as hobie would love to kiss miles, gaze into his eyes for ages, hear his laughter, his off-key singing, his scritch-scritch of something on paper everyday-- bc he can't go abt this like he does everyone else, can't do it with half a foot out the door n a shrug as agreed; it's gotta be both feet on the floor, n it's gotta be for the rest of this life, so he'll take what he can get, and he'll take the distance n devotion, take the faith n the heartache. take what he can get from his god, glad to be touched by his god, glad to be loved by his god, across universes n the fall from his bed to the futon on the floor where miles decides to lay his head for choice holy nights

(hobie doesn't know miles is putting himself at the base of his god's shrine, hoping for his deity to fall into his arms, spikes n all, (ready, so ready to tear apart dimensions again for hobie, to bleed and cry n go to war for hobie) fingers splaying on the side of the mattress warmwarmwarm after hobie starts snoring, before they slip down softly, a prayer imparting from the pads, memorizing the patterns of his god's breath, the smell of the room, the borrowed shirt he wears, the sounds of a second city he calls home, thrumming full with a bass note plucked from an electric guitar, usually shaky hands sure n still picking out a different shape to hobie's eyebrow piercing, deftly screwing a star onto the bar. miles brings offerings to his god in pins n patches on clothing, stickers n torn out sketches decorating a shrine)

so they'll song n dance in new york, in new london; learning each other's cities, earths, haunts, people, arts, each other, like new scars for the collection- permanent and signs of living, odes to loving and protecting.

chest to chest, fingers entwined, warmth in the skies above cities, right on the edge of it all until they fall together, eyes wide open, gods broken down into blood and teeth and lovelovelove

not-quite-yet 2 - 3

. my ko-fi 💛

ao3 link

[charliedawn]

Hey this is some stupid fear I have but how would some slasher ( whoever you want. ) React to a nurse who is young like in 20s and isn't scared at dying at a young age or isn't scared of dying like any time, but it's scared to grow up? It's really a stupid fear I have personal.

P.S you don't need to do it tho.

( sorry for the bad Grammer, English is my second language. )

Pennywise:

"Yeah. Growing up is scary, kid. I won’t lie to you. But, guess what ? It is part of the process." Pennywise hesitated before patting your head. "Cheer up. Being mortal isn’t all that bad. Living forever is a bore honestly."

Pennywise’s throat tightened as he realised that you would grow up. He knew it was a process and that in the blink of an eye…You would be gone. He waited a few seconds before surprising you by pulling you into a hug. Your eyes widened as you realised that he was shaking.

"Pennywise…" You uttered in a whisper before sighing and hugging him back.

He didn’t say anything. Truth was ? He was scared too. But, he didn’t want to tell you with words. So, he hugged you and hoped you’d understand that he was scared too…but that he was happy that whatever little life you had left, he’d be right next to you until the end.

Penny:

Penny lost so many people in his life that he asked Pennywise to erase his memories of the people he used to love. When you shared your fears with him however, he tilted his head and seemed to ponder on it for a moment before shrugging.

"I could make you live forever. Would you be happier if I did ? Make you immortal ?"

You started thinking about it.

Living forever ? You smiled sadly and shook your head negatively.

"Thank you, Penny. But…I don’t think I would like to live forever. Life is meant to be precious…It is not meant to go on forever."

Penny tilted his head and looked puzzled, but he didn’t say anything. It was odd. He had never seen his life as precious when he was alive. But yours ? His jaw twitched slightly. Yours. He valued.

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is an artist. He sees beauty in everything.

When he heard that you were scared of growing up, he just started taking as many pictures as he could of you and showed them to you. He then told you in sign language that you’d live forever—in his camera.

And that if you were scared ? Well, you just had to look at the photos and remember that that was how he would remember you forever. He then started stroking your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to calm you down.

Vincent knew he would eventually have to say goodbye.

But, to him ?

You would always remain a masterpiece.

Five Hargreeves:

"Growing up is scary. But, being stuck as a child is even worse. Children never get heard. I would know. I was a child. Twice."

He said and looked down. So many years spent in solitude. So many years wasted. He lived for decades and yet, Five never thought that he was truly alive. He was feeling better with his siblings, but he never actually had any moment in his life that he could say that he felt like he was enough or enough. Sometimes, he even wondered if the world would have been better without him.

It was only when he was admitted in St Louis that he realised he wanted to be something more and make his life a good one. It wasn’t until he met…you.

He looked at you and smiled.

"You gave me a life. And even when you get older and start forgetting about how you changed everything for me, I’ll be there to remind you. Every single day."

Jason Voorhees:

Jason never had a real childhood. He was bullied as a kid and his overprotective mother never allowed him to get out of her sight. When she died, he had no one to look after him and felt lost and lonely. He tried to reach out to people, but he could never create attachment with anyone.

So, he just kept killing and making sure people stayed away, because it was better than to get hurt.

And then, he met you.

He started caring for you more than he’d care to admit and soon enough, he wasn’t feeling as lonely anymore.

Jason *hugs you tightly*

Jason started looking up to you and even though he was also afraid of what will happen when you get too old to keep him company, he still wanted to keep you close to him—no matter how sad he would be once he would have to say goodbye.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms looked at you and shook his head—as if he didn’t believe you.

"Y/N…Never going to grow old. Will stay young forever. Young forever with Brahms."

He hugged you and closed his eyes.

Deep down, he knew that you’d eventually grow old and disappear. But, in his mind ? You’d always be perfect. No matter how old you get or how afraid you get.

Brahms : "Don’t worry, Y/N. Brahms is here. Brahms will stay with you…"

He held back tears and just hugged you tighter.

Norman Bates:

Norman: "…Darling. Listen to me. I am the oldest slasher to have ever existed. I was born in 1932. I am old. Very old. But…I would give up a whole eternity just to be with you. So, it is not about having a long life, but a good one. A worthy life. And just meeting you made mine worth it. And if I was to die tomorrow ? I can say…I lived a good life." He smiled and stroked your cheek affectionately with his forefinger. "You should do the same. Stop worrying about when your time is gonna run out or because of the few wrinkles on your face. Just remember to have fun and enjoy your life. Take the advice of a man who’s seen it all."

He then put down a tray on the table.

"Now, tea ?"

Jack Torrance:

"Old ? Ah. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You’ll be one hell of a cute old lady, if you get there." Jack never got the chance to grow old. He secretly misses being alive. He would have loved to grow old with his family and be a father to Danny. But, he never got there. He died—frozen and alone. He then came back as some sort of ghost who feeds on fear. So, no. Growing old isn’t something he would find scary, or losing you. Because he knows that when you do grow old and eventually leave this world, you will go to a nice place—unlike him. And if you don’t ? Well, you’d be trapped with him. Either way, he knows you’ll be alright. So, he isn’t worried.

"You’ll be fine. I know it. Now, stop worrying and come have a drink with me."

Hannibal Jr.:

"You will always be a Hannibal in my eyes. No matter how old or wrinkled you get…You will always be my beloved daughter." Hannibal Jr. told you when you shared your fears with him. He stroked your cheeks and smiled. "Always."

You smiled at him and hugged him tightly. He returned your hug and whispered in your ear.

"You will always be part of this family." He then kissed your forehead. "No matter what."

Ghostface (Eddie Munson):

"…Don’t worry. We will grow old together. It will be less lonely." Ghostface told you and smiled at you. Unlike the other slashers, Ghostface can grow old. He is not exactly a slasher. It is more of a multitude of people taking the role with time. Eddie won’t be Ghostface forever. Once his mission over, he will start growing old as well until he just gives his mask to someone new.

Ghostface *scoots closer to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders* : "I bet we will be the coolest old people ever…" *smiles*

[queenimmadolla]

hey vivi!! big fan of you🩷 since you’re doing drabbles, do you think you can write about penny going on her first date ? i can only imagine what eddie would be like lol. love you ❤️

𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 (don't have to read but you'll want to) (𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

“I’m sorry???” Eddie croaked out over the phone, and your teeth dug into your lip to fight a smile off.

  “It’s innocent, Eds. They’re just seeing a movie together,” You mused and briefly placed the phone against your chest to listen for any cries throughout the house. Quiet. The baby was still asleep, thank god. You’d already raised two kids out of their baby phase of life, but this one was giving you and your husband a run for your money. Colic and Eddie’s genetics (dramatics) made for one hell of a Velcro Baby. Maple always had to be attached to one of her parents, or she was crying bloody murder and since Eddie was away for the next two days, it was you she needed to be on. You’d managed to sneak her successfully into her crib when she fell asleep—usually her big brown eyes flew open the second you bent over to lower her in since you were only ever allowed to be standing when holding Maple, per her demands—just before Eddie called (and you’d dove to stop that phone from ringing). He wasn’t impressed with your plans for the rest of the day, “I’ll be in the row behind her, with a baby hidden under my shirt and attached to my nipple, and Wayne if he doesn’t want to hang out with big Wayne. Don’t be dramatic.”

  Eddie scoffed so you rolled your eyes.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me, young lady.” Your back straightened from your lean on the counter, eyes scanning the living room for the camera he had to have hidden as he kept talking, “What are you gonna do when this punk puts the moves on my baby girl, huh?”

  “They’re ten years-old, Eddie. They’re gonna be sweating in their seats, I hardly doubt they’ll even hold hands.” 

  Eddie still didn’t like that. Really, there was no reason for Penny and whatever this kid’s name was to even be going to the movies. He’s sure the punk had a TV at home, and Penny had access to one, so they could just watch something separately in different homes, as in not together, and talk about it at school. Or not talk about it all. Not talk to each other at all. Yeah, Eddie liked that.

  “Tell her she can’t go.” He demanded, shooting a glare at the PA staring at him, eagerly waiting for him to get off the phone so he could usher him to his next interview. The hostility in his gaze was enough to make that very PA poof, disappeared into thin air.

  “I’m not telling her that.”

  “Fine, I’ll do it. Put her on the phone.” You didn’t bother hiding your smile anymore, grinning at his antics. He was such a dad and you loved it. Especially because you knew—what with him currently in New York—Penny would be at the movies with her little crush (and you, possibly your son, and your baby) whether Eddie liked it or not.

  You called for Penny down the hallway and you could hear her galloping down after your voice.

  “What?” She squawked out once she came to a halt at your side and like every other time she voiced that word in her flat tone with a hint of annoyance sprinkled in, you were reminded of the times your mother would reprimand you for being just as irritating.

  You lulled your wrist forward, tipping the phone to her as you raised a challenging brow, “Your dad wants to talk to you.”

  She quickly took the phone, holding it against the side of her head, hand pushing her hair out of her face before scratching her chin “Hi, daddy.”

  “Hi, sweet pea.” You could hear him croon and you shook your head in amusement. He was so fake. “What’cha up to today?”

  ”Nothing. OOH, Uncle Lucas patched my bike for me!” She recalled, thinking back to when the Uncle in question had followed through on his promise to repair her flat bicycle wheel before catching his flight back to Chicago in time for his practice. Penny would be watching his basketball game on TV tonight, after the movie. She cheered as loud as she could for him, but sometimes she cheered for his other teammate, Michael Jordan, too. All the time. She cheered for Michael all the time.

  “Of course he did, just had to steal my thunder. Mom says you’re gonna watch his game tonight.”

  “Yeah, here at home since you can’t take us. . .”

  “I said I’m sorry! I’ll take you to the Finals.”

  “If they win.” Penny mumbled and they both went silent before bursting out laughing. The Bulls wouldn’t be losing tonight.

  “Is that all you’re doing?” He asked, voice honey and sugar once he’d stopped laughing.

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Pretty sure? As in, not entirely positive?” Eddie’s voice broke as it went high and he cleared his throat, “Nothing you’re intentionally leaving out?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “What about your LITTLE DATE?! Penny, you’re too young, baby. What have we been talking about for years now, huh? Thought we agreed you’d wait until a couple of years into a marriage before you could start dating. You pinky swore. Wouldn’t you rather me go? You know how Maple is—do you want a baby crying in the background when you recall your first date for the rest of your life? And really, your mom is gonna be chaperoning, don't you wanna wait until I get back? What if this kid is one of those punks that tease you about your mom being hot? Wouldn’t you much rather have your cool, rockstar dad, instead of your hot mom, sitting menacingly—I mean—hold on don’t hang up, I meant ‘measuredly’—”

  Penny’s eyes flashed over to you in a ‘can you believe this?’ manner as you heard your husband blabber on like some grown up in Peanut’ s Special and she rolled her eyes. Eddie must have mumbled something else because you saw her stand up straight and glance around the house with a pout before she mumbled back into the receiver, “I didn’t roll my eyes. . .”

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

[gennyanydots]

Big Bay Boom

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x f!reader

Summary: It’s the Fourth of July and your family is spending it with the rest of the daggers in San Diego.

Warnings: vague mention of sex,

Part of the 'Spitfire' Universe

Can be read as a standalone but makes more sense if you've read some of the other stories.

You were learning that being stationed at the same place for an extended period of time came with a few perks. Not having to pack your things every five minutes was a big perk. Settling into your own home. Your husband’s Captain making friends with people who can arrange for your husband’s entire squad to watch the San Diego fireworks show on a ship in the harbor (and then later finding out Mav just asked Warlock and used a picture of your son looking sad and told him he would be responsible for your son’s sad face if he couldn’t make it happen. Where or when Mav got that picture is a mystery).

Getting to see the fireworks without having to fight the crowds sounded like an amazing idea. One year you decided that your family should see the fireworks in downtown San Diego and you quickly learned that had been the stupidest idea you had ever had. Jake and you taking Eli all the way into the city had been a disaster. There were too many people. Parking was a mess. You didn’t find much to eat that a toddler would even like. You were terrified you were going to lose Eli in the crowd despite your husband and you watching him like a hawk. The only person who had a good time was Eli and you had been thankful for that at least.

When Jake had come home the week prior and said the squad wanted to go to San Diego for the Fourth of July you were quick to shoot that idea down. A toddler AND a baby? No. No way. Not even with the extra adults.

Jake promised that you wouldn’t be downtown for the fireworks and that you wouldn’t even be downtown as it got dark. You begrudgingly agreed after you heard the squad decided to go downtown not for the fireworks but to take your children to the zoo. It still blew your mind that your husband’s Navy squad cared so much about your children.

When the day came around you packed up your two children along with all the stuff you needed for the day and headed off to the San Diego zoo.

Upon arriving you found the entire squad ready to help get your kids in gear for the zoo. Grandma Penny took your daughter from the car seat faster than you could even get out of your seat. She quickly covered your daughter in a layer of sunscreen before passing her off to Bob’s wife who was so excited to snuggle her. She then wrangled your son out of Bradley’s arms to do the same before passing him right back because nobody could keep those two separate for long except Bradley’s girlfriend who seemed happy to let him hold your wiggly boy.

It definitely helped your anxiety to see so many adults surround your children. Their own security team. You’re pretty sure you heard Javy growl at someone just walking by who just happened to glance in the squad’s direction. You knew in your heart that no matter what Javy would protect your babies forever.

By the time you made it into the zoo, everyone was acting like children from the excitement of the zoo. Poor Maverick had at least five adults yelling at him to get them ice cream before your son and daughter joined in which meant Grandpa Mavvie had to follow through. The day Grandpa Mavvie told your children “No” was the day hell froze over.

You couldn’t help but laugh as poor Maverick tried to wrangle his elite squad of pilots and wso’s as he attempted to get them all ice cream. Maybe one day you should record it so you can send it into “America’s Funniest Home Videos” because you’re positive you’d win.

You felt extra sorry for the poor worker who was trying their best to keep up with everyone yelling out their ice cream order before you quickly pulled out your phone and made everyone come and tell you what they wanted so you could have an accurate count for Maverick. Penny watched the entire ordeal while laughing at Mav as he tried to keep up with everyone.

Everyone finished their ice cream quickly due to the hot day and you were all off again.

Upon seeing the “Skyfari” that went high above the zoo your daughter started to demand going on the “ride” so that’s where you all went next. It ended up being her favorite part of the entire day. Jake decided it was because Ella clearly takes after him and wants to be in the air. You figured she just enjoyed the ride.

You enjoyed what happened beforehand.

Before getting in the little zoo tram car your husband easily folded Ella’s stroller. There was just something about watching a competent man easily fold a stroller and then lift it one handed that was just so attractive to you. You don’t even care that Jake gave you a funny look after he noticed you staring at him after he got the stroller ready for the ride. Maybe tonight you’d be able to celebrate with some “fireworks” of your own with your husband. Fingers crossed.

The zoo took several hours to get through and you were pretty sure you still didn’t see everything. You’re sure you’d have to come back another day to see it all and to go on Ella’s favorite part again since you knew your daughter well enough to know she would demand to go again soon.

You all decided to eat dinner at the zoo since trying to find somewhere that everyone liked that could fit such a large group would be impossible.

Penny decided that she was taking Ella home as you all walked back to your vehicles for the next part of your day after eating. She didn’t feel like staying up to watch the fireworks when she could instead go to bed early which was something that didn’t happen often being a bar owner. Plus one less child to keep track of helped your mama brain. You’re pretty sure Ella would not do well with the loud booms so you quickly agreed to Penny taking your daughter for some extra snuggle time with grandma that your daughter was not against in the slightest. You knew Penny would never play favorites with your children but being a girl mom made it much easier for her to bond with Ella than with your rough and tumble son who’s favorite thing to do at their house was to wrestle with Grandpa Mavvie. Ella was still happy to snuggle with Grandma Penny.

With one less child you moved onto the next part of your day.

Eating at the zoo gave you all just enough time to get to the base so that Jake could show Eli his plane- for the billionth time. Eli LOVED to see his daddy's plane especially since there was a picture of him in it so it was like he was flying with his daddy every time he flew. The other daggers tried to show Eli their planes too but he only sort of liked Bradley's because there was a picture of his teacher in it so it was like his teacher was flying too if Bradley and his daddy were flying together. All the other planes were less fun but he still looked at every single one so he didn't hurt his aunt's and uncle's feelings.

As Eli was occupied you took the moment with everyone else to really stress how someone needed to have a hand on your son at all times while on the ship. You were excited about seeing the fireworks in the bay but you also needed to know that your son was safe.

Maverick just rolled his eyes at you and gathered you into his arms for a hug before kissing your forehead and promising that nothing would happen to Eli and he personally would be the first one to jump off the ship to save him if the unthinkable happened, not that it would ever happen.

Maverick then nodded his head towards Bradley who had your Eli on his shoulders both wearing matching lifejackets, "Rooster didn't want Eli to feel singled out. Also I highly doubt Rooster is going to put your son down any time soon and if he does I don't think he would be on his feet long before someone else sticks him on their shoulders so he can see."

You take a deep breath and nod at his words. You know that none of the daggers would ever let anything happen to Eli, it's just hard to let go.

Once on the ship it wasn't long before everyone was laughing and dancing around to the music that the bay was playing as you all waited for the fireworks to begin. Eli loved watching the drone show that went on before the fireworks.

When the fireworks started you were amazed by how close you really were to them regardless of being a safe distance away. You felt the booms deep in your chest as they went on. From the water you could see the different barges in the ocean that were shooting fireworks off so instead of one show you got to watch multiple. Every few booms you made sure to check where your son was, finding him always on the shoulders of someone. Apparently now was Javi's turn as you see Bradley snuggled up close to his girlfriend much like you currently were with Jake. In fact you could see Bob and his wife in much the same position but when you looked closer you could see Bob's hand lightly rubbing his wife's stomach. He must not have meant to because he immediately stopped and quickly looked around to see if anyone noticed. Upon catching you looking he quickly put his pointer finger to his lips. You winked at him and made the same motion back to let him know you'd keep their secret.

"What was that?" Jake asked you, bending down to make sure you could hear him.

You shake your head, "None of your business. Super secret married people things, you wouldn't know anything about."

Jake groans, "But I am married. To you. I am married to you."

You shrug, "Doesn't mean you get to know. Sorry baby."

You smile as you look around at all the friends around you and lean back against your husband's chest as he holds you tighter. Holidays, including the fourth, are much better spent with your new found family.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 11

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, arguing, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to babies, swearing, references to military deployment, blood, medical inaccuracy, military inaccuracy

Jake’s Apartment, 11 Years Ago

“Don’t go,” Buttercup begged, standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get deployed again for like a year.”

Jake shrugged as he packed his bag. “Something came up, and they need the best of the best. So, they’re sendin’ me, Javy, Rooster, Bob and Phoenix.”

Buttercup cupped her small bump, her ring finger glinting with the wedding ring he had put there only two weeks previous. The wedding had been a surprise, a shotgun wedding in the typical sense of the word, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. The love of his life was pregnant, with twins, and was now Mrs. Seresin. Everything was coming up roses for Jake Seresin, and he was living for it. But the newly minted Mrs. Seresin…

“When will you be back?” she asked, her hand stroking her belly nervously.

Jake huffed a laugh. “That’s above my paygrade, sweetness.”

“I’m serious, Jake,” she swallowed. “Will you be back before the babies come?”

Jake paused. She was five months pregnant with twins, and everyone kept telling him that twins always came early. Would he be back in four months? It was impossible to say.

He turned towards her, smiling as softly as he could as he took her into his arms. “You’ll have Penny. And Mav and Payback and Fanboy and everyone else. It’ll be okay.”

She shoved out of his arms and stalked over to the bedroom window. “I don’t want everyone else. I want you. My husband. The father of my children. That’s who I want with me as I get all huge and can’t shave my legs and when I have to get poked and prodded at my appointments. Not a bunch of strangers. I want you.”

“I want you too,” he waggled his eyebrows at her, but didn’t get the giggling response he hoped for.

“I came here to visit my brother, but I stayed for you,” she murmured. “And now you’re both leaving and I’m going to be stuck here, useless.”

“Not useless,” he soothed, trying again to hold her. “You’re growing our babies. And if you ever feel like you need more, you could always go help Penny with the bar. But you don’t have to worry about anything, okay? I’m sending every paycheck home to you. The apartment is paid off completely, and the utilities come out of my bank account automatically. It’ll be okay.”

Buttercup swiped at her eyes and sidestepped him. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me, babe. Because I’m leaving in less than 36 hours and I’d like to know that my pregnant wife will be waiting for me when I get back,” he huffed.

“Of course I’ll be here!” she snapped. “I would never do that to you. But you’re fine with leaving me.”

Jake sighed and slowly walked over to her, hesitating only momentarily before placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not fine with leaving you,” he whispered. “I feel like a fox caught in a trap, ready and willing to gnaw my own foot off if it meant the Navy wouldn’t own my ass anymore. But I can’t.” He let his hands glide down her body to rest on her small bump. “I don’t want to miss a second of this but I know I will. What I won’t miss is the birth. I swear to God. I’ll make sure I come home before they even think of coming out of their mama.” He pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek. “I’ll talk to Mav. He still has some sway over Cyclone. He can make sure I’m home, and that I don’t get deployed once they arrive. Not for a while, at least.”

He felt Buttercup shudder against him and was thankful that, this time, she allowed him to pull her into his arms. “And you’ll be safe? You’ll come home?”

Jake sighed and did the one thing he’d always sworn to himself that he would never do. “I promise, baby. I swear to God that I’m comin’ home to you.”

Cabana Bar, Hotel Zaza, Now

Jake held them for what felt like hours, until one of the girls started to squirm and try to pull away from the embrace.

“Dad…you’re soaking wet.”

Jake chuckled a little as he pulled away, stretching to his full height. “Sorry. I just missed you both so much.” He nodded his thanks to a helpful staff member, who handed him a fluffy white towel. “How…how are you here?” He blinked down at them. “You said something about a switch?”

The girls shuffled their feet nervously, but it was Buttercup who stepped forward. “You’re bleeding,” she murmured, gesturing to his soaking white shirt. Jake glanced down, noting the tear in his shirt and the red that was now staining it. Buttercup bit her lip, stepping closer. “What happened?”

Jake looked over at the bartender, who was shooting daggers at the lot of them, surrounded by shattered glass. “He stepped into my path and the deck was too slippery for me to course correct in time, so I bumped into him. I guess I took a few glasses to the chest as they shattered.”

Buttercup clocked the glares of the bartender too because she said, “Let’s go get you cleaned up. Then our daughters can explain themselves to you.”

Jake nodded, just as a shrill voice sounded behind him. “Oh my goodness, there’s two of them?”

Jake turned, finding Savannah clutching her chest, an older man and woman flanking her. “Savannah, meet my daughters. Abby and Charlie. And this…” Jake glanced at Buttercup with a look that was heavy with guilt. “This is my ex-wife. Their mother.”

Savannah gasped and leaned heavily against her father. “It’s alright, pookie,” the older southern gentleman soothed, his elegant wife fetching a fan from her clutch and waving it over her daughter’s wan face. “Let’s get you some air and some sweet tea to get you feeling better.” He gathered Savannah into his arms and gave them a reproachful look before striding off, his wife teetering behind him in her heels.

Jake couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. “Great…”

One of the girls bit their lip. “Sorry, dad.”

Jake shook off the weight of Colonel Beaumont’s glare and smiled down at her. “It’s alright. I’ll deal with it later.” He looked up and met Buttercup’s bright gaze. “You sure it’s alright if you patch me up?”

She rolled her eyes and headed towards the door. “I wouldn’t have offered if I minded, Hangman.”

Jake grinned and followed behind her, each of his strong hands resting on the shoulders of his daughters.

As Buttercup called down to the concierge to ask for a first aid kit, Jake settled onto her bed (and refused to think any further on that subject) while the girls stood in front of him and quickly explained everything.

The camp, Penny’s meddling, switching places, Rooster finding out, Bob finding out, their phone call to each other, their plan to corner them both here and make them talk to each other.

By the time they ran out of words, there was a knock on the door and Buttercup moved towards it, greeting the staff member who handed her the large white first aid kit. All the while, Jake gaped at his daughters.

“Well, hell…” he finally found it in himself to murmur. “That was some sneaky crap you two pulled.”

“Language,” Buttercup murmured softly, a small smile breaking out on Jake’s face.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he nodded as she laid out the first aid kit on the bed next to him. “I’m just saying, why didn’t either of you pony up and talk to us?”

“We were going to,” one of them started, a slight lilting accent to her voice, and Jake knew that was his Abby. They really were so identical (and Jake wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had no clue what his daughter had been wearing before she left the house that day or if she had changed when they got to the hotel), so he was having a hard time telling them apart when they weren’t speaking. “But we got scared.”

“You were both so sad whenever we brought up our missing parent, and we didn’t want to make you sad,” said Charlie, her young voice twanging.

“But when we met—”

“We really wanted to meet our other parent—”

“And we decided to ask forgiveness instead of permission.”

Jake shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know how you two pulled it off, but I’m impressed. Don’t ever do something like that again, but I’m impressed.”

Both girls blushed and nodded, both looking so much like him that he had to give his head a shake. They were incredible. They were his. And they were here. All three of them were.

As that thought raced across his mind like an off-leash dog, he glanced up at Buttercup, still standing before him, now with a fluffy white robe wrapped around her overtop of her soaked clothes.

“Why don’t you two go find your aunt and uncles?” he suggested, not taking his eyes off his ex.

Glancing between them, the two girls nodded and headed for the door, calling their goodbyes over their shoulders.

“Don’t forget your room keys,” Buttercup called after them, her eyes not leaving his either.

Once they heard the door click shut, both adults sighed.

“I…I guess you should take your shirt off,” Buttercup mumbled, staring at the spot on his white shirt that was slowly growing redder.

“Didn’t realize you were so eager to get me out of my clothes, Buttercup,” Jake quipped with a smirk, his hands going for the tiny pearlescent buttons. “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t call me that,” she gritted between her teeth, eyes casting downward toward the first aid kit.

“Why not?” he challenged, his hands stilling.

“Because I’m not…”

“Not what?”

She met his gaze again and he was taken aback by the fire blazing in them. “Because I’m not yours anymore.”

His whole body stilled. It was true, what she had said. She wasn’t his. Not anymore. They had a decade of memories separating them now. Separate lives. Lives that only included a daughter that shared half his DNA and half hers. He’d hated the custody arrangement, they both had, but it was the only thing that made sense with their schedules and Buttercup’s health. And now, there she was. Eyes burning at him in a way that he hadn’t seen since before the birth of their daughters. At least one thing had gone right in their divorce. His Buttercup was back and more fierce than ever.

“I know that,” he said quietly. “But you still have your tattoo, don’t you?” His eyes traced the stem of buttercup blossoms that peeked out from under her white robe. “Bob and Natasha still call you Buttercup?” She nodded. “Then I don’t see why I can’t.”

“B-because…because you’re you,” her chest heaved slightly, as though she was desperate for air. Jake stood and opened the hotel window slightly, allowing the fresh breeze to rustle the leaves of the fake fern in the corner. She blinked, staring at him as her breathing almost immediately came easier to her. “I don’t think your fiancée would like it if you were still calling your ex-wife by a pet name,” she mused, striding forward to grab the disinfectant from the kit.

“Savannah can deal with it,” he muttered, already knowing he was in for one hell of an argument when he met up with his fiancée and future in-laws later.

“You sure she’s mature enough for that?” Buttercup muttered under her breath, gesturing for him to continue unbuttoning his shirt.

He chuckled shortly, peeling his wet shirt off his tan skin. “Jealous?”

“Of you being engaged? No. Of how little time she has to spend scrolling to find her birth year? Maybe a little.”

Jake chuckled again, the sound warm and soothing. “I am sometimes too, I think. She doesn’t have to search long, meanwhile I feel like I’m spinning the wheel on the Price is Right or some shit.”

Buttercup giggled in spite of herself. “At least you finally found someone at your maturity level.” She leaned in and pressed a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic to the thin line that bisected his pec.

“Low blow, sweetheart,” he hissed.

Buttercup muttered a half-hearted apology as she found another cut, not bleeding but crusted over with dried blood and a small piece of glass.

“What do you two even talk about?” she pondered as she grabbed the tweezers, steadying herself against his abs, still hard and defined after all those years.

Jake sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable discomfort of having the nearly superficial wound poked and prodded, but it never came. As always, his Buttercup’s hands were soft and gentle with him.

“You really want to have this conversation?” he asked softly.

She blinked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Would you rather we fight?”

“Why do those have to be our only options?”

Her steady hands grabbed the bandages and she carefully started to cover up the two wounds on his chest.

“Fighting was basically our only option there for a while,” she murmured, her body so close to his that he could practically feel her cool breath against his skin.

“I didn’t want it to be that way.” He craned his neck, trying to make eye contact, but her gaze remained firmly on her work. “I always hated it when we fought.”

She sighed as she made sure the soft gauze bandages were tight against his skin, her touch lingering slightly inches away from where his heart beat under his skin, before she sat back on her heels. “Me too. But—” she slapped her hands against her robed thighs before pushing herself to her feet again. “That’s all in the past. You’re getting married and I adore my job in the UK. The only thing we need to fight about now is how we’re going to split up the girls.”

Jake blinked at her. “You…you want to split them up again? What the hell, Buttercup? They just told us that they wanted a better custody arrangement.”

Buttercup flinched and took a step back from him. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that we need to figure out how to split our time with them so that it’s fair. Should be easier now that you’re not in the Navy anymore.”

He felt his temper flare slightly in his chest, but he fought to hold that mask of calm on his face. “It would probably be even easier if you didn’t live on the other side of the planet.”

Her back stiffened and her face solidified into a mask of emotionless stone. “Indeed it would, but I love my job and I could no more give it up than you could give up your ranch in Texas.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he kept her gaze, slowly raising from his spot on the bed. “No one is asking you to give up your job, only to move. It’s a lot easier to move as a writer and publisher than it is to move a whole damn ranch.”

“Author.” At Jake’s blink, her icy voice sounded again. “I’m an author, Jake. Not a writer. And no one is asking you to move the ranch. I would never ask something like that of you.”

Jake stepped closer, the two of them nearly nose to nose. “I know you wouldn’t. You’d let it all go before you asked me for anything.”

This time he did feel her breath puffing against his face, the air hot against his skin. “I learned a long time ago that asking you for something would only lead to disappointment.”

“You know it wasn’t that easy,” he bit out, stepping even closer, his hands coming up to brace against the wall as she stepped back to lean into it, lean as far as she could out of his space. “What you were asking me for was—”

“Impossible,” she whispered. “I know. And now you know that what you’re asking me for is impossible too.”

“Even if it’s for our daughters?”

The question hung in the mere inches of air between them like a gas, a burning, toxic, intangible thing that was slowly choking them both.

In the silence, he couldn’t help but trace her features with his eyes, and he knew from her unfocused stare that she was doing the same to him. He may be older than he had been when they met, but he knew he still looked good. Got confirmation of it every time he went into town and saw the local ladies. But Buttercup…she looked even better than she had when they were together. The beauty of her youth hadn’t dimmed with age, but only settled into something that spoke of wisdom and loss and pain and rebirth, a shining fire within her. Like a—

“Phoenix!”

Both their heads whipped around as Rooster berated Phoenix for slamming the door open and strolling in like she owned the place. Jake stepped back like he’d been burned, and Buttercup took his momentary distraction as a means of escape, ducking below the arm that had been keeping her caged against the wall and moving back towards the bed. She calmly gathered the discarded materials from the first aid kit and threw them into the wastebasket next to the small hotel room desk.

Buttercup glanced around, her hands busy repacking the white kit, when she spotted her daughters among the crowd of those who were her family, and those who used to be.

“Couldn’t you two pick something a little less identical?” she teased, taking in the matching black and turquoise t-shirts the girls were wearing.

“No, that’s the point,” they replied, in perfect unison.

Buttercup stilled, her fingers hesitating at the latch of the case. “What do you mean?”

Rooster nudged past them, clapping Jake on the back as he strode toward the mini fridge. “They heard you arguing in the hallway,” he whispered in his ear.

Shit. The last thing he wanted was for the girls to hear them arguing, and, based on the look on Buttercup’s face as Bob whispered in her ear, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

“I’m sorry you heard us fighting,” Jake stepped in. “Your mom and I…we’ll work out a custody arrangement that leaves everyone happy. I promise. Divorced couples do it all the time.”

“Yes, well…we want to be sure,” said the twin with the Texan twang in her voice.

“Charlie, what’re you talkin’ about?”

The other twin blinked at him. “But Dad, I’m Charlie.”

Shit again.

Buttercup suddenly stood beside him. “Abby, Charlie, stop fussing about.”

“We’re not fussing about, Mum.”

“Of course we’re not, Mum.”

Buttercup groaned, her hand rising to rub at her eyes in such a familiar way that Jake was tempted to run out and grab her usual migraine relief items.

“Girls, please stop messing around,” Jake begged instead.

“We will.”

“As soon as we go back to the ranch. All of us.”

“Once we’re there, you two can figure out the custody arrangement. Then and only then, we’ll tell you who is who.”

“And you two came up with this scheme all on your own, huh?” Jake crossed his arms, his chest stinging slightly as the bandage pulled tight. His eyes scanned the gallery of adults around the room. His friends, his family, all looked away from him, Javy looking all too interested in the piece of hotel artwork that decorated the wall.

“Girls, please,” Buttercup whispered, crouching down to look them in the eye. “This isn’t fair and you know it. We promise that we’ll figure out a schedule, but we all have to go home. To our own homes.”

“Auntie Nat already called your publisher and said that you were extending your holiday,” one of the twins shrugged. “And Uncle Rooster said that Dad doesn’t have anything to do this week outside of the ranch business.”

“Other than groveling with my in-laws,” Jake muttered.

“Speaking of…wouldn’t this be best anyway, Dad?” the other twin blinked up innocently at him. “This way our stepmother can get to know both of us. Build bridges and heal old wounds and that kind of thing.”

Jake groaned and ran a hand over his face before crouching down, green eyes scanning their features. He could’ve sworn the one on the left was Charlie, but had her hair always been parted like that? And the one on the right kept switching into a damn convincing Texan twang. But the one on the left seemed to be favoring her left leg, which would track with some of the injuries that Charlie had collected over the years on the ranch. But then the twin on the right started favouring her left leg too, and Jake sighed.

“I can’t tell,” he whispered to Buttercup, who looked horrified.

“Neither can I,” she nearly whimpered. “What kind of mother doesn’t know her own children?”

“The kind of mother who taught her children never to give up without a fight,” the twin on the right piped up, smiling brightly at them. “Just one week, Mum. One week at the ranch. We can go on the annual trail ride with Dad, and you can work on your book. You said the flat in London was stifling your creativity anyway. At the end of the week, when you’ve got a schedule for custody, then we’ll tell you who is who and we can all go home. One week. Please?”

“Please, Mum?”

Buttercup groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Fine. But whichever one of you is Abby is losing her allowance for a week for pulling another one of these stunts on me.”

“Same goes for Charlie,” Jake grumbled, his pointer finger drifting between them. “And you two!” Jake turned his finger on Rooster and Javy. “You’ll have to step up and split my ranch responsibilities between you. Y’know, since I’m going to be so busy with my daughters and figuring out a schedule.”

Maybe it wasn’t fair, but Jake had no doubt that his two best friends had something to do with his daughters’ newest scheme.

“I’ll call the ranch and get the house ready for everyone,” Jake offered. “We’ve got more than enough room for the four of you.”

“No need,” Bob piped up. “I’ll be flying back tonight.”

“And I’m going with him,” Phoenix added, shooting a look in Javy’s direction. To Javy’s credit, he didn’t flinch at all.

“Like hell you are,” Buttercup hissed. “You two got me into this mess, so you’re going down with me.”

Bob’s cheeks reddened and Nat looked like she had something to say, but with one more meaningful look from Buttercup, they both nodded.

“Alright then,” Jake sighed. “I guess we’re all heading to the ranch. God help us all.”

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[letters-from-cutie]

THE STARS WILL ALWAYS GUIDE ME (BACK) TO YOU

In which the most unexpected person in the world becomes a poet

Or were you always find your soulmate when he needs you the most

synopsis: levi's skepticism over the soulmate concept didn't stop him from meeting you at three different times - as his soul would always find a way to meet you, his star. -> 5.0k words <-

warning: gn!reader, wrote at 3 am; cringe attempt at poetry; slightly angst; reverse comfort; not intended longfic; childhood crushes; death of major character; levi is bad at feelings; cursing (it's levi c'mon); shallow use of soulmates!au; english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes! author's note: hello dear reader, marie here <3 this is my first fanfic on our captain, so he may sound ooc; i'm trying out past and present on english, SO i tried something different here, hehe; like always images are not mine; also this is more of a prologue for my future works if you wonder. and i wish you have a great time reading ^-^

800's - Titan's Era - The Past

After so many years, Captain Levi barely remembers the first time he saw you, but he knows it was special.

In his childhood, a man named Kenny taught him some survival skills. They went beyond common self-defense; he learned to steal from small stores, run from the military cops, and beat someone, in case he needed to fight. After all, knowing more than just basic skills was required to survive there. Plus, his Ackerman genes helped him endure that filthy environment.

The other kids in the underground found him extremely intimidating. They began avoiding him after hearing rumors that he could beat up grown-ups twice his size and never face any consequences. Some saw him as a legend, while others viewed him as a scary and awful little boy.

With Kenny's departure, Levi was left alone. He had to rely on himself as a young child, without any family or friends to give him support.

Until the day he met you, that is.

Being raised inside your parents' small store, you lacked the street smarts. There was only so much you could do against the older kids who would bully you. And the alley next to your home was the perfect place for them to get you.

Levi found you there, scared for your life. The bigger kids were dragging your face down in the muddy floor and making threats. You knew who they were: robbers, who left your parents' store not satisfied with just some pennies.

Just like these children, Levi was also a thief. However, he was only trying to secure his daily meal, struggling to survive on his own, while the others committed theft for their own pleasure.

Maybe that's why he saved you that day, getting himself into trouble with the other kids. Or it was because he felt like he owned your dad, as he once caught him stealing some bread and let him off the hook. No matter the reasoning he was sure that he could handle the kids

The next day, it was your turn to help him. You found Levi injured near your house. You hurried to him and treated him following your mother's instructions. Since he couldn't afford medicine, he allowed you to treat him.

Levi was impressed by you, who seemed unfazed by the red flow of blood gushing from his knee. (You were repulsed but insisted on helping him back, so you kept it to yourself.) In return, you were also impressed to learn that he was the least hurt in the fight he had with your bullies, handling all of them alone.

It quickly became a routine. Every time you met, it was for a different reason. However, there was this shared, strange proximity whenever you saw each other. A friendship was formed, but you would never use such a word; it didn't seem to fit with the connection you had.

Suddenly, Levi thought he was getting sick. His heart would take leaps whenever you took care of him, with so much dedication written on your face. He would stutter when seeing you after a long time apart, but your caring tone and look would give him the confidence to speak for himself afterward.

One day, your mother teased him and got away with it. He came rushing into the store when another child who resembled you went missing. Not seeing you there made him panic; only your mom was there as you left with your dad for a walk. To lighten the mood at the small store, she made a joke about him liking a certain kid.

He did like you. It was an innocent and pure first love. Yet, kids like him didn't get crushes, so he never put such a label on his feelings. He believed that he would not live long. And since you had a (slightly) better condition, one day you were to be married and carry on your family name. He saw no use in having a crush.

When you saw him later that day, he said your mother was sweet, like his. You asked about her whereabouts, and after knowing of her death, you told him that she must have become a star in the sky. He wished to see it for himself.

So the stars caught both of your interests. Well, you already talked nonstop about nature and the sky — it was your dream to leave the underground.

You'd talk about the birds that sometimes get trapped in the underground. Daydreams about living outside would fuel your imagination. You would imagine feeling the sun's warmth on your skin. How cold was the snow? — you asked yourself. And in some days you'd dream of kissing your love in the rain one day; you longed for a romance like in your stories.

Levi never got your name; he never asked. When he was older, he would call you "poet". Truth be told, you were just a little child, seeking solace in fiction as a form of comfort from the terrible circumstances you lived in.

Even as a child, Levi was skeptical of others' beliefs, religions, and legends. Interestingly enough, his main memory of you was a discussion over a love story. Something about two people meant to find each other, connected through a red string of fate.

"You're such a baby for falling for this soulmate thing. I think you're being stupid!"

He was ignorant and rude as a kid; he knew it.

"Do you really, think that about me, Levi?" No.

You were brilliant — an entire constellation; he noted.

Actually, he was amazed by your appreciation for nature, something you had never encountered before. Levi never said it, but he liked your drawings in the dirt. They illustrated your stories. Since you didn't know the format of the stars, each time you would draw them in a unique pattern.

He was so bad with words, he could never say beautiful things like you did. He wanted to, tell you how much he enjoyed your company. But he wasn't able to.

Soon enough, you started to cough and sneeze a lot, and out of nowhere, you became a star too. A little star, beaming in the sky, hidden from Levi's sight underneath the capital.

Your death was invisible in the underground. Diseases were everywhere, and people died easily there. They did not live long. If they got sick, they would probably die very soon; just like you did when a cold got your family.

In Levi's opinion, you managed to escape from that hell.

His heart ached again; he wanted to cry, he wanted you, then he wanted his mom, but neither could be found. And his thoughts would revolve around the fact that he would never love meet you again. Gone forever, he thought.

A frigid and everlasting winter started inside of him, building up icy walls around his heart.

The images of his first love faded over time, just like the clouds in the sky. In his heart, it was always winter. The sky turned gray, and the air he breathed was freezing cold. The ice kept him closed off from the world around him. 

Levi got so used to the cold that he was afraid of his warmer days. The sun would bless him again; not as the large sphere that shone during the day, but more shaped like his friends. Those who brought comfort to his broken heart were like sun rays.

His line of work would bring even more disaster to his life. And these were the coldest days. But there were always some sun rays peeking through the windows of his heart. It was their persistence that encouraged the man to continue moving forward, with no regrets.

When asked what he desired to do if he ever got a life after the military, Levi would scowl - as if that could ever happen - he would respond. In the end, everyone agreed he'd excel at whatever he chose to do.

Just no poetry - his friends commented - not with his awful attitude and scary face. Levi brushed them off. The comments made his friends laugh, and that lightness was needed there. After all the deaths and injuries, the captain couldn't find himself mad at their silly banter after an unsuccessful expedition.

Yet, just as the sun always sets at night, death would soon follow Levi's path. He always got shocked by them, but never surprised, as to him disaster seemed to be as natural as the daily sunset.

Mom, his first love poet kid, Isabel, Furlan, all those fallen soldiers, his squad, Erwin... They all faded in the sky which was Levi's life, leaving him in the darkness of the night. During those evenings, he would gaze at the stars that were once his companions; then he would cry, grieving and trembling with the coldness of his solitude.

One of the few memories Levi had of his childhood was that poet kid, always talking about the overworld. On his first explorations, he was able to see everything that the kid always dreamed about. Although that child would never expect him to lose his family the first time he saw the poetic and romantic rain.

Levi hated rainy days because they reminded him of himself.

Years later, Levi almost lost himself, as the raindrops fell on his severe injuries. He was rescued by a friend, whom he didn't have enough time to thank, as their death followed soon after. With Hanji's death and the war's end, he could finally rest, assured that his days would be calmer. At the same time, he feared he would never find love again.

But he was wrong because he met you (again).

Years younger than him, but old enough to have your own career, you were a witty traveler. Born into a wealthy but absent family, you traveled all over the world, writing about what you saw, getting inspired by the diversion of the world. At least until the rumbling vanished almost everything you cherished.

After surviving the war, you decided to help to record your historical period. You joined a group of writers and journalists, leaving your poetry and romances aside for a while. You were able to interview the allies, as your popularity granted you the prestige enough to do so.

At the right time, your kind heart earned the trust of the allies. They allowed you to write down their stories, and they recounted their side of the story to the rest of the world. One name was common in all of people's stories — Captain Levi. He seemed to be an icon, but you didn't meet him right away; he was injured and opted to stay out of the spotlight.

The first time Levi heard about you, he dismissed it. Thinking that it was a one-time meeting with his friends fellow soldiers, he didn't dwell much on it. Not long after, some comments caught his interest. Jean and Armin kept discussing a topic he hadn't heard of in nearly three decades, much to the captain's surprise.

Apparently, a fictional romance you made was inspired by the 'soulmate' concept. So many survivors were occupying themselves with your flowery words and books.

What even was a soulmate? He couldn't remember the explanation he heard from that poet kid.

Most survivors were now hoping to meet their other halves. It was rather a welcome relief after going through so much. But Levi felt it was ridiculous.

So he decided to confront you. Levi asked to meet with you. He thought about what he would say to this fraud of a cultist. Oh, how he would speak his mind on the fact that you were giving his friends family soldiers, empty hopes.

To his surprise, when the man first met you (again?), he was unable to speak at all.

No, he had never met you before, but at first glance, he thought he had (he did).

His soul knew yours. And yours knew his.

For the first time in years, he struggled to speak, enchanted by your starry eyes, in a trance of your voice. Instead of debating you, he let you ramble by yourself on the matter, as long as you desired.

It made no sense to him. After all the death and suffering he endured, he couldn't accept such a simple, perfect idea. Seeing you as such a firm believer, made him curious as to why you trusted so hard such ideas.

"I may be a writer, but my words on love are nothing but the reality I've seen." You had met so many adorable couples, so it had to be true. Plus, you also wanted to believe that someone was waiting for you in this and other lifetimes. Especially after so much disaster, there has to be something good in the end.

"Not everyone gets to meet love during their life, and many people died. But it doesn't mean that we cannot dream of a better life." You spoke your mind to him, unfazed by his strong presence.

Captain Levi was a legend. First, you were so determined to write and tell his story and to melt down his icy heart too. As you came to interact with him, you realized that he deserved to be loved, and by himself first. You wanted to show him that he deserved his own love and others as well. He deserved happiness.

You couldn't bring back his beloved ones, nor could you take the burden of their deaths off his shoulders. But you could offer him your care, patience, and attention, the things that were once taken from him, and you were happy to oblige in his needs. top of all, you would not go away; He would say that it was annoying how persistent you were. Yet his biggest fear was that you would leave him, like the others.

As a result, working to retell humanity's strongest soldier's story was your biggest act. It took a long time, but you, being the stubborn person you were, managed to get through his clouded heart. And your soul was able to speak to his own, to comfort him, and reassure him.

Not only as a storyteller but also as his lover.

Your care and attention were so comforting. Your company was like a spring breeze, and he became fascinated by you; the feeling was mutual. Each small glance and accidental touch sent shivers down his spine. The sensations he felt with you were as strong as thunder in the summer rain. Watching you work, he imagined autumn leaves falling from a tree. But it was simply you scribing words on paper, slowly but steadily.

Before, he felt that there was only winter in his life, but you showed him that there were other seasons as well.

During a rainy day, when you both had to stay inside, he took you in his arms for the first time. He told you he remembered a friend from his childhood, the poet who first told him about soulmates. He used to make fun of them and never really believed in what they said until he met you. You proved him wrong in his concepts of life.

He didn't look as disgusted when looking in the mirror. His scars were now his trophies, and he took care of himself so he would not get hurt again. Because he knew he didn't deserve to feel pain anymore.

The Titan war ended, and he was finally free to live and to love — you helped him realize that.

So he kissed you for the first time as the raindrops fell on the window, the storm was outside. You were his home, protecting him from the rain and any other type of disaster. He finally had a place where his heart belonged.

That night, while looking at the stars, he vowed to always find you again.

And thus, he became a poet.

2020's - Global Era - The Present

The man's long fingers dance across the books, checking off the level of the dust. He found it bothersome. How could someone keep these valuable gems in such a filthy condition?

"So, what do you think, Professor?" "Is this collection any good?" The owner of the items sounds anxious, and the man detects the desire in their eyes. All for money.

"The eyes are a gateway to someone's true self; poetic words, but a true reality."

The tales presented on the pages told a story from another time. It belonged to the historical record rather than the literary one, so he would not have any use for it. Maybe his friend should have them, he imagines.

The professor didn't see himself as a money seeker. So he wouldn't mind lending the books to someone else. Rather than a money-driven individual, he's someone who attempted to live his best life. Especially now, in the middle of such turbulent times.

"I'll evaluate them later with a colleague; you're dismissed." He didn't even look at the person in his office. His mind was far away, among the empty pages on his desk.

His focus sat on the big windows of his office, where the sky looked way too dark for the middle of the day. A storm was on its way. Shit

He cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. He should've just listened to his mother's suggestion. That a witchy woman, always knowing when it's going to rain.

"I'm sure you have some expectations for how much we'll get from these relics. Right, Mr. Ackerman?"

In response, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. Taking one of the books in his hand, he double-checks the signature engraved on the leather. The old calligraphy looks to be very legitimate, even having the original author's name signed on the front page.

[Reader] was a big poet from the Titan Era. This means that these could be some original editions of the books they'd written about the war, while they were experiencing with nonfiction. Their most prized book was 'Humanity's Strongest Soldier', which now stands in a museum for ancient eldian relics.

The professor was named after him, it was his duty to know at least a bit of it. His mom liked how the soldier's name sounded, and it's pretty common for modern Eldians to have names of these old personalities. Ackerman's friends are examples of that, most being named after fallen scouts.

Now he definitely would call his history enthusiast friend later, and he would have the time of his life.

Maybe he could do like that poet and try out new writing styles? But for now, he needs to rush home first. But it's going to rain, and his visit is still there, keeping him in his office. The professor just wishes to not get trapped in a storm.

He stands up, going straight to the old wooden door of his office. As he opens it, the visitor starts to get mad at him. What a wrong decision.

"Oi! I said I would speak to Mr. Erwin later, but if you're so urgent for that money, his office is just across campus." Stop pestering me; I have to go before the storm comes.

Professor Ackerman isn't in a position to judge history books with such detail. After all, he's on the creative side of writing.

Plus it's a good excuse to expel him from my office.

"I'm sure you'll earn enough to stop you from coming here again."

The person urges themselves, gathering their stuff and mumbling their goodbyes. Finally, it was just the professor, the cold tea on its holder, and piles of papers on the desk. At first glance, the papers seemed to be organized but were actually a confusion of syllables, in which he was drowning. The confused papers match the ones in his own home and in the garbage.

I need to work on this book myself; Erwin cannot help me this time, he's too busy.

He hopes that this found collection does not bother Erwin much. He already has a lot on his hands. He always does. His friend researches nonstop about the Titan era. It's weird. Maybe Erwin should see a therapist. It would be more useful than rambling to him about a connection to a time when they weren't even alive.

Who in their right mind would feel connected to the years of man-eating beasts? Right, our mutual friend.

Ackerman curses them, remembering he needs to call them soon.

They would go insane when they found out about his last visitor: a minister's son who asked for the university to clean his appointments just to see him. And to make matters worse, they didn't even inform him, until two hours ago, when they saw him trotting to his office.

He picks up his phone and checks the time. It's been an hour since the appointment he arranged with the writer. He felt a bit bad for them, and the copy of their work resting on his desk.

The professor remembers how other young writers he met had to kiss the asses of seniors to get a chance. He was more than happy for his friendship with Erwin; his dad, also a professor and author, made things much easier.

Rushing out of his office, he gets his phone and calls "Four-Eyes." Ackerman only stops for a moment to speak with his assistant. Petra would have to manage the rearranging for another day.

He senses someone nearby in the reception, but his focus is fully on his phone's screen. Come on, pick it up! You owe me this!

As he leaves the old building, phone on hand, his thoughts travel away to that writer's project again... Maybe he should give them a bit more time to try to convince him to help with their project, if he was on a good day, that is.

Plus, he read the draft; their writing was really good. He wondered, did they really share a name with that poet from centuries ago or were they just a poser who took that as their fake name. Whatever reason, the professor would kill to have someone with such skills on his writing team, like this [Reader].

But the concept... soulmates? No one even remembers about that! Why did they choose it?

He almost tossed it in the trash when he first saw the synopsis. That's also why he scheduled them in the final office hour after leaving them as the last ones he would review during the semester.

Could you blame him? They did submit a romance, after all, Professor Ackerman was anything but a lover, being known for his dark stories, complex characters, and drama. He wasn't the best at flowery and sugary stories. Then why did they submit it to him in the first place?

Yet, the concept of the red string sounded so... Poetic?

His line of thought gets stopped by a water drop on his forehead, falling through his face. As he feels more drops of water getting into his meticulously arranged hair, his call is finally answered.

"SHORTY! I was talking to Mike about inviting you to the..."

"I'm not going to this sky-dropping shit. If you guys want to die, fine, but leave me out of it." He sounded harsher than he intended.

Knowing his friends, he would eventually find himself in the air some days later. It was just to help Mike's girlfriend with her project of losing the fear of heights. The problem is that Ackerman doesn't commit to things he may regret, so he needs more time to digest it before confirming.

"Oh well, but then at least try to get through your fears too, like dance in the rain like that old movies!" The friend laughed.

What a coincidence! He is trapped in an incoming storm, while his friend makes fun of his phobia. Is this how therapy works?

"Have you not checked a fucking window? Get my car here, it's raining!" Please.

With that, their friend starts to apologize over and over again, he accepted the apology the first time they muttered "I'm so sorry", but he was to leave them repeating it by themselves, as a punishment. Looking forward, there stood the bus stop, so beat up that its coverage would fail to protect him from the rain.

"Forgive meeee I'm getting into your car right now."

He sits down on the bench and starts thinking to himself... Maybe he can ask the ministry for more funds! They'll eventually come back to him with more ancient relics that he totally cares about. He'll put on his best act again.

Who is he kidding? He prefers to die than interact with a politician again.

"Tch, I have work to do, Four Eyes. I can't go skydiving with so much shit on hold."

"For fucks sake, you're having a creative block! Stop forcing it! Go get some fresh air or look for the help of another writer!" From the phone, he could hear the engine of his car, which made him relax a bit.

"That is my job, Hanji. And you don't get to tell me what to do!" But thanks for caring.

He's the professor, the one meant to be an example for new writers. He cannot let his walls down; he cannot let himself be in a junior's position. And as the raindrops get harder, he feels his suit soak.

"Besides, I'm tired of ass-kissers. Now leave your phone away and fucking drive." And be safe, please.

So he hangs up, making a note to not let Hanji drink so much the next time they go out. They can't hold themselves on alcohol, and he has to babysit them and the rest, but they are always the worst among all the drunks he delivers to home.

This time his car paid the price, and since Professor Ackerman was too much of an elegant man to step into the filthy car, he made Hanji stay clean it for the entire day. He could handle the rain if it meant that a certain someone got to clean up their mess.

A bus passes through swiftly, and someone curses out loud from behind him. Idiot student. His mind goes back to his unfinished work. The sky was now so dark. He would expect a big storm to arrive and drown the earth. Yet the rain that was pouring looked rather ordinary, not as strong as it was supposed to be.

Perhaps it wasn't meant to be.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you wish to share?"

A forest-green umbrella appears in his sight. He quickly turns his head in the direction of the voice and sees a star, a real one. His tired eyes meet your serene ones, which leave him speechless.

Just like every single lifetime.

"Sir? You don't want to catch a cold, do you?" Who are you? Do I know you?

You sit by the men's side. The position is awkward. Half of the large umbrella keeps your left side dry. The other part protects the man's right shoulder from the rain. When he looks at you, he can see your left arm getting wetter. It's a choice you've made by lending your space underneath the umbrella. Your arm stands high on top of the already not-too-tall man.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" You answer quickly, and an awkward silence followed.

Are they insane?

"Tch. Getting sick is not the worst thing that can happen to me, stop bothering." After all, it's not the Titan era. Why is this getting in his head again? The water may be getting to his brain.

"It's just another shitty day."

"Fair." You followed. "Well, I just missed an important appointment and lost my bus; I'll probably cry myself to sleep if I even get home...." You paused, taking a big breath, that changes your energy completely."But I'll come back later. It's just another bad day."

Why is this person venting to me?

"Don't get into problems with higher-ups," Like I did. "They'll step on you."

"Ah, it wasn't my fault." You told him (and yourself). "It's said around this campus that the guy's awful and scary anyway."

Professor Ackerman found himself awfully empathizing with you. He knew that this part of the capital was full of self-absorbed rich guys. He recognizes the glow in your eyes, innocent but determined. But your voice speaks of bad things and problems, like a supernova, a star that died but still shines.

"So... yeah, not the worst thing that can happen to me, too!"

It's good that you keep smiling yourself determined in this place because no one else can do it for you.

Funny. He struggled so hard with his own writing for the past few days. And suddenly the professor finds himself getting inspired by a stranger. Someone with whom he will never cross paths again.

"Are you a student here?"

Talking about Paradis' main university, the chances are high. But you quickly assure him that you have already graduated. And in another nation's college, which means you're probably not even an eldian.

He is curious now; what more can he get from this stranger's crazy talk?

"Then what is worse? Shitting yourself in public?" He jokes, not expecting a laugh back. And surely you don't laugh. And a familiar car comes down the street.

Waiting for your answer, he looks at you again. And his breath gets caught in his throat for a moment. Your eyes, so beautiful, suddenly matched the stars stamped on your cute bag. And your smile, big and shiny, made him feel butterflies, that soared freely inside his chest.

"Not meeting my soulmate in this life. That is the most cruel fate I could ever be given."

Levi stops in time; that concept was such an old-fashioned saying, that not many young people knew about it. What were the changes of you... No, it can't be.

Seeing his lack of reaction, started mumbling again, seemingly nervous.

"I understand. People can believe in large man-eating creatures destroying this world... But not in true love, right? Leave that for poets, haha."

No, it was not that, I...

"And how will you know that you've found them?" He has so many questions, so many thoughts so many ideas...

You laugh.

"Maybe the stars will tell me, they always know."

So it is you.

"LEVI!" Hanji calls from the street, and you jump in your seat.

As soon as the rider saw Levi with some company, they sensed something rather interesting. So, as the Cupid they are, they decide to act and point out to you, waving to the car next. They were calling you.

"Cutie! You don't want to get a cold, do ya?"

Levi just sighs, annoyed at his friend's behavior. If it wasn't his car, he would go around and leave, thinking Hanji sounded like a perverted.

Getting up from his seat, he pats your head, amused by your cute wide eyes looking at him. You then look at his badge resting on his brown suit. The name 'Professor L. Ackerman' shined in gold and was visible now thanks to the car lights.

He knows he is a stranger, and this offer would sound strange, but it's to thank you for the umbrella and to talk to you more. He may even work together with you soon.

Levi feels like he's not a stranger to you; you feel like he's not a stranger too.

He knows your soul, and you know his.

"Seems like you got yourself lucky, [Reader]; you've got yourself a ride." He points to his car. Levi walks toward it without looking back, letting you decide for yourself.

It's time for Levi to tell a different story; he's aware of that now. But then, would you be the one to help him write it down, reader? Do you accept the ride?