#pete's arm hair is glowing

[rootedinrevisions]

Cop Car

SUMMARY: You and Jake enter a restricted area to watch the planes take off. It's all fun and games until the two of you end up cuffed in the backseat of a car. Things only get worse when your dad, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell arrives on the scene. Loosely based on/inspired by Cop Car by Keith Urban because apparently my thing lately has been making fics out of songs.

WARNINGS: None

WORD COUNT: 3.5K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

The faint roar of jet engines reverberated in the distance, a low hum that vibrated through the night air. You were wrapped up in Jake’s arms, your back pressed against his chest as you both lounged in the truck bed, staring at the vast sky above. There was a thrill, a kind of reckless energy, in sitting just beyond the "No Trespassing" signs, so close to the runways where the Navy's finest pilots took off.

Your heart raced, though it wasn’t from fear of getting caught. It was from being here, next to him. You felt the soft thud of his heartbeat as you lay back against his chest, your body cocooned in his warmth.

“You sure this was a good idea?” Jake’s voice was low, tinged with amusement as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

You grinned up at him, the glow of the airstrip lights casting soft shadows across his features. “Since when have you ever cared about breaking the rules?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. “Fair point. But if your old man catches us—”

You cut him off with a playful laugh, turning in his arms so you could look up into his eyes. “We’ll be fine. I’ve got a plan.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a plan?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded confidently, leaning in closer until your noses almost touched. “If we get caught, I’ll just tell them how much I love planes. They’ll understand.”

Jake shook his head, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll get us out of any trouble.”

You leaned back against him, your eyes flicking up to watch as another jet took off, its engines roaring to life and tearing down the runway before disappearing into the night sky. There was something magical about it, watching those planes cut through the darkness. You’d loved planes ever since you were a kid—since the first time your dad had taken you up for a ride.

Sighing contently, you snuggled deeper into Jake’s embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. The moment was perfect, just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. All the worries of tomorrow didn’t matter. It was just you, Jake, and the thrill of being somewhere you weren’t supposed to be.

“Hey, look,” Jake said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Another one.”

You followed his gaze, watching as a fighter jet lifted off into the air, its sleek frame disappearing into the starry sky. For a second, you imagined what it must be like for Jake—to be up there, soaring through the clouds, with nothing but the horizon ahead of him. You admired his ambition, his drive.

“What’s it like up there…you know when you’re flying?” you asked, watching another jet take off, its lights blinking against the darkness.

Jake’s laugh was low, vibrating through your body as his arms tightened around you. “It’s the best feeling in the world…besides being here with you.”

You smiled, tilting your head back to catch a glimpse of his face, the shadows from the runway lights dancing across his jawline. There was something about being here, just the two of you, that felt untouchable—like nothing could ruin this moment. It felt like the world belonged to just you and him.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted it—the glow of headlights approaching from the other side of the fence. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Uh, Jake,” you murmured, sitting up a little. “We’ve got company.”

Jake followed your gaze, his jaw tightening as the headlights got closer. A black SUV with the words “Military Police” emblazoned on the side rolled to a stop just a few feet away from Jake’s truck.

“Shit,” he muttered, sliding out of the truck bed and extending a hand to help you down. His expression was still calm, but you could feel the tension rolling off him as the door to the SUV swung open.

Two officers stepped out, their faces stern and their postures rigid as they approached. The taller one, a gruff-looking man in his mid-40s with a salt-and-pepper beard, was the first to speak.

“You two realize this is a restricted area, right?” His voice was sharp, no-nonsense.

You exchanged a glance with Jake, your heart thudding in your chest. “Uh, yeah,” Jake said, holding up his hands in surrender. “We were just watching the planes. Didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

The officer’s eyes narrowed as his gaze shifted to you. “And you? You got identification on you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You weren’t on base legally, and you knew it. While Jake was a Navy pilot with all the right credentials, you were just the daughter of one of the Navy’s most legendary pilots. That wasn’t going to help much right now.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… I don’t have any ID on me.”

The second officer, a younger man with a buzz cut, stepped forward. “Name?”

You hesitated, glancing at Jake before answering. His green eyes were serious, silently telling you to be honest. There was no talking your way out of this.

“Y/N Mitchell,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The officers exchanged a glance, clearly recognizing the name. “As in Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell?” the first officer asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nodded, your heart sinking. “Yeah… that’s my dad.”

The older officer exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple as if already anticipating the headache this was going to cause. “Well, Miss Mitchell, you’re not supposed to be here. You’re aware of that, right?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake cut in. “Look, this is on me. I brought her here. She just wanted to see the planes. I’ll take full responsibility.”

The officer gave Jake a once-over, clearly unimpressed. “And you are?”

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake said, pulling his Military ID card out of his wallet and handing it over. The officer examined it under the flashlight before handing it back, his expression still stony.

“You know better, Lieutenant,” the officer said, his voice low and stern. “You’re military personnel. You should know what ‘No Trespassing’ means.”

Jake clenched his jaw but nodded. “Yes sir, I know. I screwed up.”

The officer gave a nod to his partner, who immediately stepped forward and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “I’m afraid you’re both coming with us,” the younger officer said, reaching for Jake’s wrists first.

“Wait, is that really necessary?” you asked, panic rising in your chest as you watched them cuff Jake.

“Afraid so,” the officer replied, his tone almost bored. “Regulations.”

Your breath quickened as the officer turned to you next, holding out the cuffs. “Turn around, ma’am.”

You swallowed hard and did as you were told, the cold metal of the cuffs clicking around your wrists. The reality of the situation began to set in, and for the first time, a sliver of fear crept in.

Jake met your eyes, and despite the cuffs, he managed to give you a reassuring smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady, “it’s gonna be fine.”

You nodded, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the weight of what could happen hung heavy in the air.

The officers escorted you and Jake to the back of their patrol car, opening the doors and motioning for you to get inside. You slid in first, Jake following closely behind, the door slamming shut behind him. The inside of the car smelled like leather and disinfectant, the overhead light casting a dim glow across your faces.

You slouched against the seat, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. Jake caught your eye and raised an eyebrow.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft as the officers stood outside making phone calls.

You nodded, resting your head against the seat. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

Jake exhaled, his gaze drifting toward the flashing blue lights reflecting in the window. “Your dad’s gonna kill me.”

You let out a soft laugh, the tension easing slightly. “He might. But hey, at least we’ve got a good story now.”

Jake chuckled, leaning his head back against the seat, his eyes closing briefly. “Yeah, some story. 'Remember that time we got cuffed for watching jets take off?'”

You grinned, leaning your head against his shoulder. “You know, we could try to make a run for it.”

His eyes snapped open, and he turned to you, disbelief written all over his face. “You’re crazy.”

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Maybe. But you love it.”

He shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “I do.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of the situation fading as the minutes ticked by. Outside, the officers were still making calls, seemingly in no rush to let you go. But you didn’t care. In this moment, sitting in the back of a patrol car, cuffed and facing who knew what kind of trouble, all that mattered was being here with Jake.

He glanced over at you again, his expression softening as he took in the way the blue lights danced in your eyes. He couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked, even in a situation like this. And for a second, all his worries about tomorrow and whatever consequences awaited him melted away.

“Your dad’s never gonna let me see you again, is he?” Jake asked, half-joking, though there was a hint of concern in his voice.

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “We’ll figure it out.”

Just then, the familiar sound of car tires on the gravel made you both look up. The unmistakable silhouette of your father, Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, appeared in the distance, his boots crunching rhythmically against the gravel as he approached the patrol car. The blue and red lights cast long shadows over his form, and even from inside the car, you could see the tightness in his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. He was pissed, no doubt about it.

Jake shifted beside you, his relaxed demeanor faltering for the first time since the police had shown up. His face fell, the reality of the situation finally hitting him. “This is gonna be bad,” he muttered under his breath, glancing sideways at you.

You could only nod, your stomach twisting with a mix of dread and embarrassment. If there was one thing that had always been constant in your life, it was your dad’s protective nature. And now, seeing him storming toward the car—where you sat in the back, hands cuffed, with Jake beside you—it felt like you were about to face the full force of it.

Just as Maverick reached the car, the officer nearest the door gave you and Jake a nod, his face stern as he reached for the door handle. 

“Alright, out you two,” he said, his voice gruff but controlled. 

He opened the door, and the cool night air rushed in, cutting through the warmth of the enclosed space. Jake was the first to move. He slid out of the seat with a quiet grunt, his wrists still bound by the cuffs as he straightened to his full height. The officer standing nearby gave him a once-over, clearly unimpressed, before placing a hand on Jake’s arm to guide him to the side of the car.

Then it was your turn. You followed Jake’s lead, scooting across the seat and stepping out into the gravel. The moment your feet hit the ground, you felt the weight of everything hit you all at once—the flashing lights, the tension in the air, and your dad’s unwavering gaze locked on the two of you. The officers didn’t waste time; you were both led a few paces away from the car, standing side by side as Maverick looked between you and Jake with that intense, assessing stare.

Jake, to his credit, stood still and silent, his jaw clenched tightly. You could sense the regret rolling off him in waves. His shoulders were stiff, and for once, he seemed unsure of what to say. Not that there was much he could say to fix the situation.

Maverick’s eyes moved between the two of you, taking in the sight of his daughter cuffed and standing beside Lieutenant Jake "Hangman" Seresin. His frustration was palpable, but the way he lingered on you for a second longer made your stomach twist. This wasn’t just anger—this was disappointment.

The older officer cleared his throat, drawing Maverick’s attention for a moment. “Captain Mitchell, sir,” he said, more formally now, clearly aware of the gravity of the situation.

Maverick’s gaze didn’t leave you and Jake, his arms crossing over his chest. “What’s going on here?”

The officer quickly explained, outlining how they’d found you both in a restricted area and how neither of you had proper authorization. The moment he finished, there was a beat of silence. Maverick’s eyes narrowed as they settled on Jake.

“Lieutenant Seresin,” he said slowly, his voice deceptively calm, “care to explain why I’m getting a call in the middle of the night saying my daughter’s in the back of a patrol car with you?”

Jake straightened up, squaring his shoulders. “Sir, it’s on me. I brought her out here. I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t,” Maverick cut him off, his voice sharp. “You didn’t think at all, clearly.”

You winced at the harshness of his tone, knowing this wasn’t going to go over well. The officer standing beside Jake glanced between the two men, but remained silent. Maverick’s gaze shifted to you, and the weight of his stare made your heart sink.

“Y/N, you know better than this,” Maverick said, his voice firm but with an edge of concern. “You know what happens when you break the rules, especially on a military base. What were you thinking?”

You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Maverick sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to the officers. “Can you take the cuffs off?”

The younger officer hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Sure, Captain.” He stepped forward and unlocked Jake’s cuffs first. Jake gave a slight nod of thanks but didn’t move otherwise, still standing rigid beside you.

Then it was your turn. The officer released the cuffs from your wrists, and you immediately rubbed at the sore spots where the metal had bitten into your skin. The weight of the cuffs was gone, but the tension hanging between the three of you was suffocating.

Maverick gave the officers a short nod, signaling for them to step back. Then he crossed his arms again, his eyes flickering between you and Jake. “You two are lucky it was just the military police who found you,” he said, his voice low but filled with authority. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if this got reported up the chain? You’re both smart enough to know better.”

Jake shifted beside you, finally finding his voice again. “Sir, I take full responsibility. Y/N shouldn’t get in trouble for this. She was just with me. If there’s any punishment, it should be mine.”

Maverick’s gaze hardened as he stared down Jake, a long silence stretching between them. Finally, Maverick spoke, his voice cold. “This isn’t about punishment, Seresin. This is about trust. You’ve got my daughter out here, breaking rules, putting herself in a dangerous position, and you didn’t think for one second about what that means?”

Jake flinched, guilt flashing across his face. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to put her in danger.”

Maverick exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he turned to you, his expression softening just slightly. “You okay?”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle even heavier on your shoulders. “Yeah… I’m okay. I’m sorry, Dad.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Maverick said, his voice gentler now, though the tension still lingered. “But you’re coming home with me.”

He turned back to Jake, his face hardening again. “And you, Lieutenant… this doesn’t go on your record, but if you’re serious about my daughter, you’d better start using your head.”

The night air hung heavy as Maverick walked back toward his car, his command still lingering in the space between you and Jake. Though the cuffs were off and the immediate crisis seemed to be over, you couldn’t shake the knot tightening in your chest. Maverick wasn’t letting this slide easily, and both you and Jake knew it.

“Lieutenant Seresin,” Maverick called out, his voice stern and carrying authority, making it clear this wasn’t a request.

Jake, who had been silently rubbing his wrists, snapped to attention. He straightened up, his posture rigid, falling back into his role as a Navy officer. “Yes, sir.”

Maverick’s gaze hardened as he took a step closer, his voice unwavering. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to say goodnight to my daughter, and then you’re going straight back to your quarters. No stops, no detours. Understood?”

Jake nodded, his usual confidence visibly absent. “Yes, sir.”

Maverick’s eyes narrowed slightly, the warning in his expression unmistakable. “And Lieutenant… Don’t think this is over because you apologized. You put her in danger tonight, and that doesn’t sit well with me. I expect better from you.”

Jake flinched at the words, his jaw tightening as the guilt in his eyes deepened. “I understand, sir,” he said quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

Maverick held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded toward you. “Go on. Say goodnight.”

Jake exhaled and turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of regret and something softer, more vulnerable. As he stepped closer, he hesitated for a second, glancing briefly toward Maverick, then back to you.

Without saying a word, he pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you with a tenderness that melted the tension in your body. You let out a shaky breath, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of the embrace momentarily blocked out everything else—your dad’s watchful eyes, the police cars, the chaos of the night.

Jake leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead instead of your lips, a gesture that felt protective, as if he were trying to shield you from the weight of everything that had happened. “I love you,” he whispered against your skin, his voice rough with emotion. “This won’t change anything. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You nodded against his chest, your throat tight with unspoken words. “I love you too,” you whispered back.

Jake squeezed you gently one last time before letting go. You could see the strain in his expression, the regret hanging heavy in his posture as he pulled away. He gave you a small, reassuring smile as if trying to make everything feel less complicated, even though you both knew it wasn’t.

You reached out, pulling him in for one final hug, a silent goodbye filled with the promise that things weren’t over between you. Jake closed his eyes briefly as he held you, then slowly stepped back, his hands lingering on your arms for a moment longer before he let you go completely.

Turning away from you, he walked toward Maverick, who stood by the car with his arms crossed, his expression still stern but no longer as harsh. Jake gave him a sharp nod, acknowledging the silent tension that still lingered between them.

“Get going, Lieutenant,” Maverick said, his voice firm. “And don’t let me hear about you being anywhere other than your quarters tonight.”

Jake nodded, his voice steady but low. “Yes, sir.”

Without another word, Jake turned and headed toward his truck. You watched as he got in, glancing in your direction once more before he started the engine. The sound of his truck pulling away filled the quiet night, and soon enough, the taillights disappeared into the darkness.

Maverick let out a slow breath once Jake was gone, his rigid stance loosening ever so slightly. He turned toward you, his expression softening as he stepped closer, his eyes searching your face. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, filled with the concern of a father who had been shaken but was trying to hide it.

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Maverick sighed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you into a hug. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he murmured, patting your back gently. “Let’s get you home now.”

You leaned into him, finding comfort in the familiar embrace, but even as you walked with him toward his car, your thoughts remained on Jake, his whispered promise still echoing in your mind.

[mentally-gone002]

never too late for solace

summary: peter seeks comfort with his best friend in her bedroom. 

a/n: yes i’m aware of how much i’m active, but im booooored (im just a girl🎀) 😫😫😫 anyway… 🌝 this has been in the good ole drafts for a long ass time and u decided to finish it and get her out there!! pls enjoy😭😭😭

warnings: blood

———————————————————————

it was late. 

the new york sky was dark outside my partially opened window, but my room was lit up. the lamp glowing on my bedside table while i glanced from an open notebook to my laptop. homework at midnight felt different than doing it at any other time, which is why i do it this late. that and because i can’t sleep. 

my window moved upwards and i jumped in surprise of the slight scraping sound interrupting my silent solitude. 

looking up i watched peter, my best friend, slowly climb through the window he’d opened. he was slow moving, quiet and panting. sweat made his brown curls stick to his forehead.

i didn’t say anything as he closed the window and turned to me, staring with his brown bloodshot eyes from across the room. my gut told me something was wrong. 

“it’s late.” i murmured, glancing away to the door, making sure it was closed. 

peter hummed, walking to my bed and sat down. “i know.” peter whispered shakily. 

my lips pursed into a line. in a matter of seconds my book and laptop were closed and thrown to the side. “is something wrong, pete?” i was sitting parallel with him now. 

he shook his head while he stared at the floor. “uncle ben.” peter whispered. i watched his leg bounce up and down quickly, something he did when he was anxious. i reached out to stop him with a hand on his knee. his leg stopped moving. 

“what about uncle ben?” i wondered gently, leaning close to him and watching his profile. 

peter squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips. “he’s gone. he’s gone, and it’s my fault.” big tears began to fall from his eyes. 

my heart ached all of a sudden. seeing him like this was rare. the only time i’d ever seen him cry was when he’d fallen after he began skateboarding, back in fourth grade. he skinned his knee pretty badly.

“come here.” it was the only thing i had to say before peter turned his head and hid his face in the curve of my neck. he breathed shaky against my skin and i wrapped an arm around his back. my hand rested on his shoulder, gently squeezing the muscle there. 

my eyes drifted down to peter’s hands and i really focused on them for the first time since he was here. they were stained red and held together in a firm grip. “is that…” i swallowed thickly, trying to think of what he could have been through before finishing my sentence. “is that blood, peter?” 

peter unclasped his hands and rested them palm up. “yes.” he murmured, body shivering. 

“who’s is it?” i asked even though i knew the answer and dreaded hearing it. 

he sniffled, only nodding and i felt my heart break. “uncle ben’s.” he was there when ben died. 

my other arm wrapped around him and my fingers laced together so that i wouldn’t let him go. i rocked back and forth slowly as peter cried. he tried to stay collected but he couldn’t, and i didn’t blame him. i felt his tears soak into the fabric of my shirt as time went on until he went silent, the only sound he made was the occasional deep intake of air. 

“peter?” i dropped my arm holding him that was across his front. he hummed in response to tell me he was listening. “do you wanna sleep here? i can run you a shower and find some clean clothes for you.” i asked. he hummed as a way of saying ‘yes’ with an added nod. i gently kissed the top of his head with the brief turn of my head before i let him go so that i could stand up and take him across the hall to the shower. 

————————————————————————

when peter came back to my room he was in the plaid pants i found him and a baggy long sleeved shirt. his hair was wet and he was staring at the floor. 

“hey,” i caught his attention with a gentle voice. my lips went up in an offered smile. “let’s get some sleep okay?” i asked. 

luckily he returned the smile and crawled into my bed, pulling the comforter up to his nose. he closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply. “will you stay with me? i don’t wanna be alone.” peters voice was muffled by the comforter but i understood. 

“yeah, i’m staying.” i climbed into my bed beside him. “you want the light on or off?” 

“on.” he was quick to answer. he kept his eyes closed and the comforter to his nose, but one of his hands snaked under the covers to find mine. he didn’t interlace our fingers but just held onto me, like he wanted to make sure i really wasn’t going to leave. i squeezed his hand reassuringly, turning onto my side to face him. 

peter opened his eyes to look at me. he smiled and moved closer. “i was bitten by a spider at oscorp.” he whispered, eyes closed as he said it. 

i squeezed his hand. “so something did happen when you went.” 

he nodded. “yeah. it made me… different. i can hear super well, see better… dodge punches.” he murmured slowly. “i can stick to walls.” 

i nodded once his voice stopped. “that’s why you’re not wearing contacts. isn’t it.” 

“how’d you know i stopped?” 

“you haven’t been blinking harshly or rubbing your eyes as much.” i smirked as he opened his eyes. he smiled faintly back at the mention that i noticed this much. “but that’s strange. you have heightened sensed. the sticking to walls is strange.” 

he watched as i adjusted my position slightly. “yeah… it’s weird, i don’t know how to control it. all the keys on my keyboard stuck to my fingers this morning and i shattered my front door earlier tonight.” peter sighed and looked away. “you can’t tell anyone about this.” 

“i won’t. i promise.” i assured. “and if you need help with your… weirdness caused by the spider, i’m here.” my hand squeezed his again as we stared at each others eyes. “and im sorry… about uncle ben.” he smiled a bit and then closed his eyes. 

he whispered, “i’m sorry too” and released my hand before rolling to face away from me. 

i tuned over as well to face in the opposite direction and my eyes fluttered shut. “love you, peter.” 

“love you.” he whispered through a soft laugh. 

we said it all the time, just because. i felt like he needed to hear it more tonight than he did any other day. 

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Rings

Words: 993

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Prongs

Moony you need to come get your man, he’s so drunk.

They won’t serve him anymore.

😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

Moony

🙄🙄 Not my man, Prongs.

On my way. 😘😘

Remus, in his soft pyjama bottoms and one of Sirius’ hoodies, drove into town to the bar the others were at. He had a ridiculous amount of student work to mark so, ignoring Sirius’ protests, he’d opted for a night in. It turned out that marking in an empty house went a lot quicker than marking in a house where Sirius kept interrupting him.

Outside the bar, Sirius was propped up between James and Pete. They eased him into the passenger seat, giggling as he got his bearings.

“Moons!” He looked over at Remus and his whole face lit up. “James, Moony’s here!”

“I see him, Pads.” James smirked, “He’s going to take you home.”

“Oh,” Sirius paused, “Well that sounds lovely.”

Remus glanced back over at James who mouthed. “Tequila.”

“Oh, Pads, not tequila.” He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a plastic bag and a pack of baby wipes, just in case.

“So fucking cute,” Sirius mumbled to himself as he accepted the bag.

“You alright? Need a lift?”

“Nah, Pete and this girl have hit it off so I’m gonna stay and wingman.” James grinned at Pete who looked very smug.

“Can’t wait to hear about it tomorrow.” Remus smiled at them as they waved and headed back inside.

“Wait, are they going back in?” Sirius tried to undo his seatbelt. Remus pulled his hand away before he could figure it out.

“Yeah, but we’re going home.” He said kindly, but firmly. “You had too much, mate.”

Sirius pouted as Remus covered the seatbelt clip with his hand. “Can we go to McDonalds?” He huffed after a few attempts at moving it before Remus laced their fingers together to distract him. “I’ll go home if we can go to McDonalds.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” If Sirius regularly looked at him the way he did when he took his drunk ass to McDonalds, his life would be in danger. “But you’re buying me a McFlurry.”

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Once they got home and finished eating. Remus put the kettle on as Sirius settled on the sofa. When he returned, carrying two mugs, he stopped to look at Sirius.

“You good, Moons?” He opened one eye. Remus shook himself out of it and nodded, handing him a mug. “Thanks. I think I’m quite drunk.”

“Quite?” Remus chuckled, sitting down next to him. “You couldn’t walk up the stairs.”

“That seems like the stairs’ problem.” Sirius waved his hand towards the stairs. He opened his eyes and looked at Remus. He sat cross-legged, facing him. He looked so soft in the glow from the lamp. He crossed his legs and turned fully so they were knee to knee. “I should tell you something, right?”

Remus hesitated. “Well, that’s up to you.”

Sirius tilted his head slightly, regarding him, “Nah, I should tell you.” He took a deep breath. “Moony. Remus.” The hair on Remus’ arms stood on end. “You are… the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” Remus tried to interrupt but Sirius just put a hand on his knee and shook his head, “There’ll be time for questions at the end. You’re… you’re just so Moony! Fuck, I just love you.” He smiled at Remus, eyes slightly out of focus.

“You’re drunk.” Remus hated himself for wanting to pretend this was real. “You should go to bed.”

“Would you come with me?” Sirius looked at him from under his lashes and Remus had to close his eyes to maintain any semblance of self-control. Seizing the moment, Sirius pressed his lips to Remus’, startling him.

“Pads, what the fuck?” Remus put a hand on Sirius’ shoulder as he tried to lean in again. “Hey, stop!”

Sirius just stared at him, looking like a kicked puppy. “But I— I thought…” He mumbled.

“I need you to hear me. You’re drunk. I’m not drunk. And I’m not the kind of person who’d take advantage of you or any other drunken idiot. If you want to talk about this tomorrow when you’re sober, then we can talk about it. But for now, let’s get you to bed.”

Sirius nodded sadly and let Remus help him off the sofa, before grabbing their tea and heading for the stairs. He helped Sirius take off his shirt and jeans and stopped him before he tried to slide his boxers down.

Sirius sat on the edge of the bed as Remus turned to leave. “Moons.” He said softly, twirling one of his rings, before slipping it off. “Put this on, I want you to know that I’m serious. I might be wankered, but I’m so serious.”

“You’re always Sirius.” Remus chuckled as he crouched down in front of him. Sirius slid the twisted gold ring onto the fourth finger on Remus’ left hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckle. “Thank you. Now will you please get into bed?”

Sirius nodded and slipped under the duvet without further protest. Remus watched him toss and turn for a moment before he got comfortable, and then he was asleep. Remus was never jealous of Sirius’ confidence, good looks or money, but the way he could fall asleep instantly had Remus positively green sometimes.

He slipped off Sirius’ hoodie once he was in his room and got into bed. He twisted the ring around his finger for what felt like hours until he fell asleep.

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

When he woke up, the first thing he saw was Sirius’ face, inches from his own.

“Morning!” He smiled at Remus, “I made tea.”

Remus sat up slowly, with a groan, “Thanks.”

“So… it’s tomorrow. Well, no, it’s today, but—”

“You remember?” Remus’ heart was pounding in his head as Sirius nodded. “You want to talk about it?”

He nodded again, nervously, as he looked down at Remus’ hand. “Yeah, I think it’s time.”

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Bullies - Peter Parker x fem!reader

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None! Super fluffy <3

Word Count:

Description: Peter comforts reader after a hard day at school. It can be any Peter btw but I imagined it as Tom :)

Peter knew things at school weren’t good. They never had been. I had six weeks left before I graduated and we’d been counting down the days together, despite being at different schools. Peter was the smart scientific boy who I’d met at the library and I was the music obsessed girl who was brutally bullied for who I was. I’d been shoved up against a locker before my English class by Carson, the boy who was committed to ruining my life. I had banged my head badly and was sent to the nurse’s office after passing out in the lesson. My mom had been called and I was sent home. After watching a couple episodes of (your favorite tv show), there was a sharp knock at my window. Spider Boy. Peter. I stumbled out of bed to unlock and open the window so he could come inside. 

“What are you doing in bed?” he asked, crawling in next to me. I rubbed my eyes, hoping the throbbing sensation would stop. 

“I came home from school early. Had a headache,” I muttered. He knew full well I never got headaches, which was reflected by the conflicted look on his face. 

“Tell me the truth y/n, why are you in bed at 3:00?” I tried to figure out a decent lie but had absolutely nothing. Maybe I’d fallen down some stairs, maybe I’d accidentally broken my nose in dodgeball. He wouldn’t believe that, he knew I never showed up to phys ed. 

“Remember how I told you about Carson?”

“Oh so that’s why you currently have a black eye and a half,” he seethed. Well guess that answered the question of whether I looked as bad as I felt. “Are we going to talk about it?”

“I’d rather not,” I responded, cuddling closer to him. His arm was around my shoulders, body turned into mine.

“Did he hurt you?” Of course he hurt me. No one else would’ve done this to me. 

“I just said I don’t want to talk about it,” I looked up into his glowing brown eyes, not able to tell if he was worried or raging. 

“Fine, we don’t have to talk about it. But just know Spiderman is going to have a very stern conversation with Mr Carson,” Peter spoke with severe clarity, “he’s not going to hurt you again y/n.” I knew he meant what he had said. We sat there in silence while my computer continued to play (your favorite tv show). He watched the episode with me, occasionally asking questions so he could catch up. Once the episode ended I turned off my computer and put some music on. 

“How was school today Pete?” I asked. School was much easier for him, his teachers actually cared, he had his friends MJ and Ned, and he didn’t need to study to get an A. 

“Not too bad, we’re just getting ready for finals and prepping grad stuff, y’know,” he explained. I nodded, excited for the short period of time we had left before college. 

“What time do you have to get home?” Aunt May always knew Peter was at my house, but she had standards, especially knowing Peter was Spiderman, and a high schooler. 

“Like 10:30, we’ve got time,” he pressed a kiss to my temples and ran his fingers through my hair. I could feel the tension in the air, I wanted so desperately to cry over the day, over how much pain I was in. 

“I’m going to hurt you y/n. I’m going to hurt you as much as I can. And once school is out I’m going to fucking kill you,” Carson had whispered into my ear as he pressed me into the lockers. I could still feel the padlock being pressed into my back. My eyes started to water and a few tears slipped onto Peter’s shirt. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” He sat up and held me back so he could get a proper look at my face. I shook my head, letting the floodgates slip.

“H-he told me he was going to kill me Peter. I can’t go back there,” I sobbed. He pulled me in close, his forehead resting against mine. 

“He won’t lay another hand on you ever again. I mean it y/n.” I could feel the tension in his body. 

“You promise?” I cupped his jaw, my fingers resting behind his ear. 

“I promise. I’ve got you.”

//

Please submit any requests y'all have! I love to write so let me know if you've got any!

@urmykindofwoman let me know if you like this! I haven't written to Peter in a wee bit

[the-kr8tor]

haii !! for your fluffy friday:

hobie brown x reader and reader got one of those american girl doll baby dolls (i forgot what theyre called) so hobie and reader can take care of it like its a real baby 🤗

Hi, angel! Thank you for your request, hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Reader is pregnant, Fluff.

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You and Hobie wave goodbye to Mayday, she pouts in her dad's arms, not ready to go home yet. Baby blues tearing up, her lip wobbles. Peter tries to console his daughter. The portal swirls in your living room, bathing it in a yellow glow. You cringe at how your stuff will fall harshly on the floors once it closes.

"You'll see them again, don't you miss mama?" He bounces her in his arms. Mayday only frowns more at her father's question, emotions running high.

"Mm-hmm, I'm sure your mommy misses you a lot, Mayday" you coo at the toddler, cradling your baby bump. You're about to burst any day now.

Hobie hands Peter Mayday's baby bag, "yeah, we'll just be here waiting for you" he ducks down to meet Mayday's teary eyes, shaking her tiny hands, trying to bring comfort. You grin at the interaction, hormones making you tear up.

"Thanks guys, I really need to get her home before she throws a tantrum. See ya!" Peter makes Mayday wave her hand by using his own. "Say bye bye, Mayday! Hit me up if you need any help, okay?" she finally wails as her dad steps inside the portal. Her cries get cut off by the portal closing.

"Oof glad I'm not Peter right now" you huff, turning around to look for Hobie, "Hobie?"

He crouches down to pick up a baby doll left on the floor. Shaking it in his grip, "D'you think she was crying because of this?"

"I don't think so, she barely played with it" you shrug, wobbling to him, taking the doll in his hands. Still accustomed to taking care of an actual baby, you cradle the toy like it's alive. "We can give it back to Pete next time they visit"

Hobie cracks an endearing smile, he's seen you hold Mayday before with the same enthusiasm but something about you carrying a smaller baby albeit a toy one unlocks something in his mind. He's absolutely excited to have the little one in your arms.

"You look really fit right now" Hobie eyes you up and down, whistling. You make pregnancy look good.

You roll your eyes, "what?" Not believing the words he uttered "my shirt is covered in baby food," you sniff at your collar. "Yep, mango baby food. And I haven't washed my hair in days"

Hobie leads you in his arms by your elbow, holding you close, the baby doll right in the middle of your cuddling, stomach making it hard to embrace him properly.

You suddenly realize what he really meant, knowing him well. Basically reading his mind when he lays his head on your shoulder, tired from chasing around Mayday all over the flat; hand rubbing soft circles over your tummy. The other kneads at the small of your back, massaging the aching muscle.

He's been so supportive the entire pregnancy, even with all your weird cravings and hormone induced mood swings, Hobie was always there to help ease the burden off of you. You've seen him get more and more excited everyday, bouncing all over the flat to get it ready for the baby.

"Yeah? I look good?" Bouncing the toy in your arms, you smirk at Hobie.

"Mm-hmm," Hobie peppers your face with sticky kisses leaving you all giggly and smiley. "So" kiss "bloody" kiss "good"

"Okay" laughing in between "calm down this is the reason why I'm pregnant" instead of pulling away, you encourage him by leaving your own kisses on his cheeks.

After a moment of you attacking his face with your lips, you finally pull away, scrunching your nose endearingly at Hobie with a lopsided grin. His hand never leaves your bump.

"Maybe we should keep this for a few days, might be good for practice" He holds the doll by its foot jokingly. You know he's prepared enough to know how to hold a baby properly.

You chuckle, "not a good start, babe" taking the doll with care, cradling its head, you indulge him.

"I haven't got that swaddling thing down"

"Come on then, let's practice" leading him to the bedroom by his hand with a tired but happy smile.

Reblog banner by @/cafekitsune

[crocodilenjoyer]

op fic recs

dont tell my professors.

on my way to believing by nervermordor | g | romance dawn arc | vaguely zoluna, nami-centric | 8.5k words | complete

A head pops up on the other side of Straw Hat; the last of the fading sunlight refracts off Roronoa’s earrings, winking at her. “Oh,” he says, sounding only mildly surprised to see her. “You’re here too.”

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

Roronoa grins. “Yeah. He does this.”

Nami props herself up a little higher on her already bruising elbow. Straw Hat’s got an arm wrapped around Roronoa, same as her, pinning him to his other side.

“Okay,” Nami says, feeling her third headache in as many hours beginning to creep up. “What is this?”

“How he sleeps, I guess. Been doing it since we started sailing together.”

“You’re joking.”

Roronoa shrugs.

“Well, how do we get him to let go?”

“Dunno. Haven’t figured that part out yet,” Roronoa says and then, because he’s no help at all, lays back down.

migratory animals by donutsandcoffee | t | ambiguous setting, roughly enies lobby-onwards | zosan | 1.4k | complete

Sanji is carefully placing a cherry on top of the ice cream, his hands nimble, soft, almost—gentle. But all Zoro sees is the way the hems of his pants are still soaked in blood from an earlier skirmish with a marine ship, red seeping into the cracks on the floorboard, spattering across the kitchen floor in a slow drip, drip, drip.

Zoro stares, fascinated. He can’t bring himself to look away.

(Or, Zoro and Sanji—terrible monsters, in love)

trouble is a friend of mine by taizi | t | ambiguous setting, sometime from wci to post-wano-ish | gen, straw hats, sanji-centric | 3.1k | complete

“I don’t buy it,” Pete retorts. “Someone like you? Some cook from East Blue? You’re probably worth a couple hundred thousand bellies at best, maybe a million, if your captain’s somebody.”

Sanji tilts his head back so that it rests against the dirty wall behind him. He’s still upright, somehow, through sheer stubbornness or spite. He doesn’t look like someone who only has tonight left to live. In fact, he looks sharp. There’s no better word for it. His expression is still as peaceable as it has been since he arrived, but watching him is like watching a knife slide out of its sheath. He is, abruptly, dangerous. A tool made for cutting.

“If you knew where I’ve been, you would be terrified of me,” he says.

stolen things by Origamidragons | t | roughly enies lobby-onwards | namivivi | 2.8k | complete

A catalogue of things stolen by, for, and from Princess Vivi of Alabasta with regards to a certain thief, as documented by her long-suffering captain of the guard.

see hope rise with the tide by Origamidragons | t | pre-canon with info from fishman island | gen, nami & jinbe | 3.2k | complete

“If you’re looking for Arlong, he’s inside,” she says, pointing at the monstrous building. Jinbe doesn’t look away from her, from the bruise over her eye. She can’t be older than thirteen or fourteen. Her fingers are worn red and raw. As he watches, a drop of blood drips to the ground.

A girl, with reddish hair and exhausted eyes and a ragged, forced smile, and it’s Koala but it’s not.

(Jinbe goes to check in on his brother, and finds some things that need to be set right.)

ocean breathes salty. by novks (thychesters) | t | ambiguous setting, post-timeskip | zolu | 2.7k | complete

“Do you think you can bench press me?” Luffy asks, interrupting him in the middle of a crunch, and Zoro pauses and says, “yeah, sure.”

now here you come by mugibaras (psalter) | e | set around ch. 956/ep. 957 | mishanks | 6.6k | complete

There’s a tightening feeling low in Shanks’ stomach as his gaze follows those long fingers wrap around the neck of the bottle, the candlelight lancing over a sharp cheekbone. Mihawk is terrifying before he is beautiful, but Shanks isn’t afraid of him, and Mihawk is so fucking pretty. The dim glow filtering in through the windows is beginning to tinge warm, reminding Shanks that they’re on borrowed time; he glances at the clock and decides. He reaches over before Mihawk can straighten and curls his fingers around the shell of his ear.

“Hey.”

Mihawk stills and looks at him from the corner of his eye, barely turning his head. The bottle is in his hand, and Shanks trails his fingers down Mihawk’s jaw to take the liquor from him and set it down on the table.

“Wanna bang?”

But Patience Boasts by Augment | t | post-wci | zolu and tagged as "sanji/the concept of love" | 9.4k | complete

Sanji and Zoro have very different love languages.

Standards by taizi | nr, probably g | post-timeskip | gen, straw hats | 2.4k

"You aren't planning on bringing that boy in with you tomorrow night, are you? Our restaurant has certain standards."

(In which the Straw Hats set out to prove their captain meets certain standards; whether he likes it or not.)

The Marks You Choose to Bear by ThisCat | g | post-timeskip, small reference to info from wci | gen, straw hats | 5.3k | complete

Usopp gets his hands on a tattoo machine.

Soon after, he gets his hands all over his crew.

as the world goes on its wicked way by taizi | t | ambiguous setting, post-zou | gen, straw hats, luffy-centric | 5.4k | complete

When they’re on the forecastle, with the helm just behind them and the figurehead casting them further in shadow, Usopp calls, “Raise the sails!”

Luffy’s gasp next to his ear is the best part of his entire day. 

The sails unfold in a great rolling crash of canvas. Even the striped gaff swings out, catching the wind. The whole sloop gives a powerful lurch as if she’s eager to sprint out of port on the back of whatever gale blows along next. 

And painted on the foresail, bold and bright and proud, is a grinning Jolly Roger in a yellow straw hat. 

“That’s mine,” Luffy whispers, hushed and awed. 

“Told you so,” Usopp says smugly. 

Lost in Translation by HyperbolicReverie | t | wano arc | gen, zoro-centric | 4.4k | complete

Ever since he'd left home, people had not stopped asking Zoro about his accent.

Or, the reason Zoro was allowed to wander around alone in Wano.

poly philtatos (the most loved by far) by swordsmans | t | post-fishman island, spoilers through wano | zolu, straw hats, zoro-centric | 24.8k | complete | MCD as a framing device

He keeps moving forward at a steady pace, resisting the urge to run because how fucking embarrassing would that be, running because he missed them, and as he breaks through the treeline he shouts, “Oi, oi—what took you guys so long? It's been—”

And then he freezes, because yes, actually—something is very, very wrong.

The Sunny is anchored just off shore, close enough to see the deck but far enough away that the crew has had to take the Mini Merry to make land. Scattered across the beach in various stages of chaos—rolling around, yelling, fighting—are his crew but not his crew, so similar and yet so, so different. They look younger, fresher, and whatthefuck there, on the deck of the Sunny just peering over the railing, he catches a flash of green—his own green hair—

“Ah, fuck,” he grunts, and then immediately turns back around because no, actually, he does not want to deal with this.

informal swordfighting, and the sorts by naturecalls111 | e | modern au, canon setting n/a | zosan | 6.5k | complete

It’s been a while since Sanji has gotten some action, which is the only reason why Zoro’s deplorable, barely-there attempt somehow works. Obviously.

got all my attention fixed on you (and you're just where you said you'd be) by nevermordor | g | pre-enies lobby | zolu | 7.5k words | complete

Luffy looks again at the bitemarks that he left on Zoro’s wrist. Zoro’s usually hurt, one way or another. Sometimes it’s definitely been Luffy’s fault too, but the bitemarks feel different. They ain’t like normal bruises or cuts. There’s something about seeing the shape of his teeth in Zoro’s skin. Something about the colors, the slightly paler insides of Zoro’s wrists, and the blueness of his veins, and the dark pink color of where Luffy bit him.

riptide by nevermordor | gen | post-alabasta | zolu | 6.7k | complete

Luffy unhinges his jaw and crams an entire breakfast ham down his throat. He chews reflectively a moment and then demands,

“Zoro, you wanna have a date tonight?”

Zoro answers by inhaling the rest of his orange juice through his nose and promptly spewing it everywhere.

“That a yes?”

--

Luffy and Zoro destroy a restaurant, end up lost, get in a bar fight with a bunch of pirates and go on their first date. Not necessarily in that order.

gather up all of the crew (it's time to ship out) by wildparsnip | t | post-arlong park | gen, east blue quintet | 3.5k | complete

“Sanji! It’s lunchtime, right? Now? Soon? Now, right?”

His legs are tight around Sanji’s waist and his arms have come around Sanji’s chest and crossed, grabbing the opposite shoulders, the whole length of his chest pressed tight and close. Sanji can feel the vibration when he talks, the snap of the rubber resonating in his bones.

Luffy’s hair is tickling the back of his neck.

The whole thing is – it’s –

For a long second Sanji is frozen.

“Sanji?”

It feels –

(The Straw Hat Pirates set sail in the East Blue.)

the hand that thieves by Origamidragons | t | pre-canon | gen, crocodile-centric | 2.8k | complete | cw brief ableism

If he gets caught stealing again, if he loses his other hand, he’ll never be a pirate. Never be anything besides a crippled beggar, pleading for scraps.

If he doesn’t steal, he’ll starve.

giving value to survival by yohoapirateslifeforme | t | pre-canon to shells town | gen, zoro-centric | 11k words | complete

Despite the fluid nature of his ambition, Zoro himself rarely changes: principles, directions, appearance. And when he does, he makes sure it's under the heavy influence of both long-term irritation and a healthy dose of the nearest hard liquor.

Or, Zoro is trans, surgeries cost money, and there's little to no verified adult supervision in his life.

a glance that holds the world and all its seas by JacknessofHearts | t | fishman island arc | sanuso | 6.4k | complete

“God, again?!” Usopp looks down at Sanji who's sitting against a column and tilting his head back while pressing a tissue against his bleeding nose.

“Shu' ub,” Sanji growls. Or, he tries to. It sounds rather unimpressive.

“You're terrible,” Usopp says but he can't hold back the fond smile that's been blooming all over his face again and again ever since he's stepped foot on the Sunny after returning to Sabaody.

*

It's the big party after defeating Hody Jones. Usopp gets Sanji away from all the mermaids. (Honestly, Sanji, these nosebleeds are disgusting.)

[mrs-weasley-reid]

BUBBLEGUM BAIT

Aaron Hotchner x undercoveragent!reader

Sypnosis: Aaron goes undercover to rescue you. Turns out, you were already planning your escape. WARNING: curse words, violence, sexual advances, and innuendos (and more, tell me if you spot them) A/N: this is my first Aaron Hotchner post, have mercy lol.

Derek whistled, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Old money, hot daddy."

Emily burst out laughing, throwing her head back against her seat. David gave his best—he really didn't—to fight the chuckle threatening to rattle out of him, settling for a tight-lipped smirk.

"I was going to say that!" Penelope argued, turning to Hotch with a huge grin on her face. "Them ladies are 'bout to get an extremely Hotch meal."

Aaron depressingly placed a hand over his forehead, weighing all his options and regretting all his decisions. His ears glowed bright pink.

It wasn't like he had never worn a suit before, but this suit wasn't particularly the same as the ones he wore every day. This one smelled strong and titillating, radiating opulence and grandeur.

His hair was out of control as if he was a rabid man. The cologne that laced on the sides of his neck was reminiscent of asshole and arrogance. It would've been fine if he was still in college, but he was four decades into his lifetime, for Pete's sake.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, turning to find the culprit of his demise. "You don't have to do this, Agent Hotchner." The woman with salt and pepper hair gave him an apologetic look.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"We're still working on identifying the victim. It's like she never lived here." Penelope stated as she pressed a button on the remote control.

"That's because she didn't." They all turned to find a woman in her sixties, accompanied by a younger man half her age. She stepped inside the conference room, "Jeanne Renaud, chief of the Lyon Interpol Headquarters."

Aaron stood up, offering a hand. "Aaron Hotchner." He gave her a curt nod. "I didn't get any notice about your arrival. We're unfortunately about to work on a case."

A tight-lipped smile ran along her lips, motioning for the man behind her.

The man began to distribute folders around the table just as she started to speak once more.

"The victim is Liliane Zairsev. She's from Paris and a suspected victim of sex trafficking. A month ago, we found out that this organization was moving here to America. One of us was tasked to work undercover. We haven't heard from that agent in a week. Three days later, we heard the news about dead women who had the same victimology as the ones in the file Liam handed out." She breathed deeply, crossing her arms close to her chest.

"Thirty-two victims?" David raised an eyebrow. If three was a horrifying sign in their line of jobs, he couldn't imagine the terror of the number he just mentioned.

"We need our agent back, Agent Hotchner. We need your help." Jeanne pleaded, worry flickering in her eyes.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"The night starts with auctions. There are two types of categories, dine in or take out. We're not sure which one she's in. We don't even know if she really is there. No matter what, once you find her, fight for her worth." Liam explained, checking the wires that hung like vines around Aaron's body.

Aaron kept silent, running every possible outcome in his head. He wasn't new to auction events, but how would he show eagerness rather than desperation? How was he going to save you without everyone figuring out that he was a federal agent and possibly risking both of your lives?

Liam straightened himself, signaling to Aaron that he was done. "Dine in or take out. As long as you choose an exclusive package deal, they will grant you a private room. That's where they would possibly prepare her for—" He paused, clenching his jaw.

As your close friend, he wasn't comfortable talking about you in such disrespectful ways. But Liam knew how vital every single piece of information he gave Aaron was.

"—your pleasure... She will likely be sedated, but she fights like a lion. Just calm her down and get her out of that hell hole."

It didn't take a whole team of profilers to know that Jeanne and Liam didn't merely take this mission as part of their job. It was personal. It was family. You were their family, and they wanted you back.

"I'll get her back." Aaron promised, earning a nod from the younger man. He plugged the earbud that Liam handed him.

Everyone waited for Aaron in front of the building. Some of them, Penelope and Derek, have yet to fade their teasing smiles.

But JJ was the one who had an encouraging smile, "You look good." She said as she dusted the lapel over his shoulders. "Take her back home to her family."

David threw a set of keys in his direction, "Don't hurt her. She's the only wife that stayed for more than ten years."

Aaron let out a small chuckle, eyeing a 1984 black Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz convertible. "I'll bring her back by midnight." He got in the driver's seat, feeling the texture of the wheel.

If only David had the kindness to whip his vintage cars out every case, Aaron would've loosened up the lines on his forehead.

"Always remember, we're inside your head." Emily pointed at her ear, creepily grinning at him

"We'll be following you too, of course. We're going to surround the place, so don't hesitate to call us in." Derek added, chuckling at Emily's words.

Aaron nodded, taking a deep breath. Now or never.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"Struggling will only make it hurt more." The man with sculpted arms growled, glowering at your smaller body compared to him.

Cuffs bit the skin around your wrists and ankles. Cold hovered all over your exposed skin. With the little amount of coverage on your body, naked was the closest you could describe yourself.

The man held you by the neck, treating you like an animal for exhibition. He was getting off your winces. How a small whimper would shiver out of your lips when he dragged you too fast. He thought he could do them to you just because you were sedated.

If he only knew how much you wanted to smash his face on the wall. But you had to keep an act.

Besides, that was all he could do. Watch. Because you were for other people to ogle at. For disgusting, cowardly men who couldn't make their wives cum, much less you, even if you tried.

You were a new addition to their attraction. Tonight was your first night. And you planned for it to be the last.

A woman who was trying her best to avoid eye contact with you walked the opposite way of where you were headed. She carried a tray, where a small letter knife sat seductively.

Half of her face was lined by a scar, dragging diagonally across her left temple down to her right cheek. Although the scar was visible, you couldn't help but notice how beautiful her eyes were. They were of bright grey-blue.

Without missing your chance, you purposely bumped into her, falling on your feet. "Sorry," You weakly smirked, swiping the knife in a blink of an eye.

"You fucking bitch! Look where you're going, you ugly shit!" The man shouted at the woman, kicking the tray in the middle of her picking it up.

You drilled in your head how many times you would apologize to her when you managed to escape the place and watch it crumble down during your arrest.

"It was my fault," You defended timidly. Despite the mental promise of keeping an act of being sedated, you couldn't just stand there and let her take all the blame.

The man glared at you and swung his arm. You prepared for the harsh impact, but another guy called out his name.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Are you fucking stupid?!" The other man yelled; he had blonde hair and an awful beard.

You took that chance to slip the knife on your back, strapped under your bra's band, hiding it beneath the cascade of your hair. You bit your bottom lip, your movement causing a slight sting to shoot down your spine. At least you were certain that the knife was sharp.

The blonde man yanked you to his side protectively, as if what he was about to do was going to be a god-like behavior. "She's a new attraction. No one would pay if she's damaged. A bruise would lose us thousands of dollars, you stupid fuck." He lectured the other, nudging you to move.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron immediately felt dirty just by standing amongst the men that impatiently waited for some tits to jiggle or ass to bounce across the one-way mirror.

Each of them either held wads of cash or a glass of their chosen drinks. Most of them were wealthy nobodies, but Aaron recognized a few politicians from distant cities.

He lifted a glass close to his lips. Aaron has been catering the drink for a good two hours now, sipping little drops to keep himself sober and alert.

So far, he hasn't seen you. There just might be hope that you were simply in hiding but safe regardless. He has seen fifteen women being shown off like antiques, the men screaming for their high prices. If he could only buy all of them to safety, he would. But Aaron was there for you and you only.

"Gentlemen! Here's our special and last beauty of the night! She's new! Fresh! And untouched! She is available for dine in to the highest bidder!"

Aaron's grip on his glass tightened.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Jeanne slid a picture of you toward Aaron. "She's a brave one." Her breath hitched, fighting the urge to cry in front of profilers.

Your hair was tied up away from your face, revealing all your beautiful facial features. You were no doubt a gorgeous woman.

But besides your attractive face, Aaron's eyes were drawn to the gold necklace that sat on your chest. It was a gladiolus flower. A hidden smile spread over his lips.

It symbolizes strength and power. He immediately knew you were someone who always put up a fight.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Your hair almost hid the beauty of your face, but Aaron recognized the necklace around your neck even from afar. It was you.

"$20,000!"

"$50,000!"

"50! Anyone want to top that? What? I heard $80,000!"

"100,000 dollars!"

Aaron stared at your dagger, glaring eyes. He let a smirk twitch his lips.

You knew.

You knew where you were. You knew men were fighting for you. You knew. Which meant, you weren't sedated at all.

"Smart girl," He mumbled to himself before announcing, "Five billion."

The crowd went quiet. And if Aaron had been honest, he would've paid more because you were worth more.

Sadly, the bureau had a budget. He had to limit himself to 500 thousand and could move to 1 million if needed, but he'd explain his actions in the privacy of his office later on.

In that moment, he only needed to rescue you.

The announcer grinned maniacally, hitting the gavel against the sounding block. "One night dine in with this beauty, sold!"

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

You weren't sure what type of man was unlucky enough to buy your time tonight. You bet he wouldn't expect a violent woman like you.

In spite of your display earlier, you were now clothed with more fabric. Lace to be specific.

They made you change into a black lace set. The bra pushed up every tits you could offer. A cheeky underwear that made your ass rounder. A garter around your waist that hooked on your black stockings that hugged your thighs deliciously.

You moved the letter knife on your right thigh. Easy access under the short black satin nightgown. You were prepared for battle.

The door swung open and came in the blonde man who seemed to keep his eyes on you. "Sit on the chair." He demanded.

You internally protested but obliged. He placed back your handcuffs, bringing your wrists together. In his mind, there was no other way for you to escape but the door.

"This guy paid a lot for your time. Don't mess up. Or I'm going to make you regret it." He threatened before leaving the room.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

The payment process was crucial. Money was an immediate factor, and Aaron mentally apologized to David for using his card and for memorizing his bank account information.

They led him down a hall filled with private rooms. Pornographic noises echoed as they passed each door. Most were from men. And if the voice of a woman managed to vibrate across the walls, they were a plea to be let go.

Aaron swore his ears were bleeding with disgust.

"This will be your room, Sir. Enjoy." The man excitedly said. He leaned a little, placing a hand on the side of his mouth to hide the words he was about to say, "I say you get the best out of this one. Everyone's dying to get a taste."

He managed to hold his fists back, urging a smug smirk to roll over his lips. "Then, I suggest you don't disturb us," Aaron stated before watching the man nod and walk away.

Aaron held the knob with hesitation. He wasn't sure of what he was going to be met with. He took a deep breath and twisted the knob, pushing the door open.

There you were, sat on a chair, patiently waiting for him.

The image was to be treasured, but Aaron had to remind himself that he wasn't any similar to the men who frequented that place.

A spark flickered in your eyes. Your lips slowly curved onto a smirk. "Hey, old man." You started in a teasing tone. "You can't just stand there and keep the door open."

Aaron's eyebrows knitted, but closed the door nonetheless after checking that the coast was clear from listening ears. "I'm Aaron Hotchner—" You cut him off.

"Strip." You casually ordered, taking him by surprise.

He studied you for a moment, keeping his mouth from any type of noise. Were you sober? Was his first question.

"What are you? A cop? Fed? It's fine. It doesn't matter. Now, Aaron, strip. They're watching." Your head motioned towards the direction of the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

He took off his jacket and then began to undo his tie. "Fed. How did you know? We were thorough on my... disguise." Aaron couldn't believe he was referring to his appearance as a disguise.

You rolled your eyes, "A fine-looking man like you doesn't look the type to wear a wrinkly shirt. You're obviously wired." Your voice echoed in a matter-of-fact tone. "You took your first step with your left foot when you got inside the room, but it's clear to me that your dominant is your right. You have a gun. Which I think is pretty impractical. Come closer, you're here to fuck me, remember?" Your brows were raised, impatient for him to move.

Aaron would be lying if he said your words weren't affecting him. "You have a good eye." He stood before you, glowering down your face.

"Or you're just a bad undercover." You smirked, "What are you waiting for? Kiss me."

A silent huff escaped your lips when he froze. You stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. "You're very quick to have cold feet, Agent Hotchner." The way his name rolled off your tongue was distracting.

"Hold my waist—" You swiftly grabbed his hands and placed them on your sides, "—once you have a character to play, you embody it. Because it'll get us both killed if you don't." You kissed a little of his exposed chest and looked up at him with a hairpin stuck between your lips. "Now, kiss me." You repeated in a muffled sound.

Aaron finally caught up with your plans. He leaned down and owned your lips, kissing the pin from you. With one hand, he took the pin and reattached your lips together as he began to unlock your cuffs from between your bodies.

You pulled him closer, tugging his belt loops. You led the two of you on the corner of the room, under the vision of the camera. And just as your back made contact with the wall, you felt your hands free.

You pulled away with a gasp of relief, "Thank god, I thought I had to fuck your brains out before you could even understand." You heaved, rotating your wrist to let the blood circulate once again.

Aaron looked away, "Sorry." He couldn't help but notice your closeness.

"Mhm, must be that old-fashioned you've been sipping like coffee."

His gaze shifted back to you. The taste might've been lingering on his lips, but the action he took? How did you know he was taking his time with his drink? Aaron would think that you're a profiler if he didn't know any better.

"You owe me a bubblegum," You exclaimed, pulling him back from his trance. "I prefer a proper old fashioned. Whoever made your drink was pitiful."

Aaron raised a brow, "I'll pay you a box of bubblegum just for that statement." His eyes were drawn to your purple wrists. "Did they hurt you?" He asked, fanning his breath on your skin.

"They wouldn't even if they wanted to. My beauty has never failed to save my ass." You chuckled, getting a whiff of his scent. Your nose crinkled, "Who made you wear that nasty cologne?"

He chuckled at your expression, "Jeanne."

Your face softened, nodding. "Makes sense. She has bad taste in men."

Aaron was having too much fun, when a voice echoed in his head.

"Hotch, are you there? If you don't answer, we're going to barge in."

He pressed the microphone, "We're fine."

"We?" Derek questioned from the other line.

Aaron told the team that he'd found you, using your first name with such gentleness in his voice. "We're about to make our way out." He announced, still flushed against you, caging you in his build.

"[Earlier, she was just 'the victim,' but now, you're on a first-name basis?" Emily teased, which Aaron rolled his eyes on.

Your brows knitted, confused by his expressions. While he busied himself chatting with whoever was speaking in his ear, you began climbing on him like he was a ladder.

You fished your knife and cut the wire of the camera. Aaron's height was a huge help for you to reach such a high place.

He helped you get down, gently holding your waist to guide you. "Don't tell me you were already planning to escape?" Aaron was filled with amusement.

"I was going to kill you if you weren't a fed." You shrugged, walking out of his body cage. You picked up his jacket from the floor, "Mind if I borrow this?"

"It doesn't suit me anyways," Aaron kidded, earning a soft smile from your still plumped lips.

"[Oh, really?]" Derek taunted in his ear. Snickers rang through the speaker, and Aaron was thankful that you couldn't hear anything.

You glanced back at him, "Tell your friends we're on our way out. They should meet us halfway. The guys outside are not skilled in combat, but they have guns. We'd be dead before they can even shout 'hallelujah' if they don't move now." You slipped your arms inside the sleeves of the jacket.

The jacket could almost swallow your whole body. You rolled the sleeves up a little, allowing yourself some movement. Aaron couldn't take his eyes off you. He loved the way his clothes looked way better on you, even if it wasn't his in the first place.

"Did you get that?" Aaron spoke to his ear, nodding when he got a confirmation. He glanced at you with a stern look, and you two would never admit the small tug on his lips. "Let's get you out of here."

You scoffed, "Your help is just a bonus. I'm saving myself out of this hell."

With silent agreement, you opened the door, immediately greeted by two men who were about to check on your state.

"Hey—"

You didn't give one of them a chance to finish shouting when you kicked the protrusion on his neck straight into the center of his throat.

Aaron's eyes widened. Did France Interpol really need the BAU's help? You definitely didn't look like you did.

You took the two men all by yourself, stepping on someone's back as you placed a hand on your hip. You stared at Aaron with disbelief. "You just gonna stand there?"

Before he could even respond, Aaron saw a man about to attack you from behind. He pulled you by the waist with one hand and punched the man with the other.

"You okay?" Aaron twisted his neck in your direction, hand still on your waist.

A wide grin swiped over your lips, adrenaline pumping through your veins. And your body moved like it was dancing to upbeat music.

The two of you fought your way out of the hallway. It made every second of waiting to escape worth it.

By the time the team met you, you and Aaron had beaten up about half of the men in the place, minus those who were merely guests.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Jeanne attacked you with a tight embrace, cutting your air supply. "I'm so glad you're safe! Oh, mon dieu!"

Next came Liam, punching your arm. He offered a welcoming smile. "I told you to always keep your tracker with you." He scolded lightly.

"I did!" You reasoned, a playful smile over your face. "I swallowed it, but I didn't expect to shit it out and flush it down the toilet." If you were lying it would've been way easier, but you weren't.

The BAU team introduced themselves one by one. You flashed them the same sweet smile you had on your picture.

"Behavioral analysis unit..." You nodded in thought. "Sounds real." You added with a teasing smile.

Their eyes couldn't help but notice how Aaron's jacket still sat around your shoulders. They weren't so slick as they thought, "It's collateral." You lifted your shoulders.

They looked at you with narrowed eyes. A chuckle coming out of your lips, you motioned your head in Aaron's direction where he was talking to Jeanne and a short-haired, dirty blonde woman.

"He owes me," You announced playfully.

Spencer was the first to furrow his brows closer than it already was. Why would their boss owe you? Aaron saved you. If anything, you owe his unit chief.

"I can hear you judging me, Dr. Reid." You said without moving your gaze onto his. "Is that a side effect of being a genius?"

Emily's mouth flung open, "How'd you know he's a genius? He looks like one, right? Right?" She was friendlier than you had concluded.

You smiled, glancing at Spencer. "I've been an undercover for sixteen years. Reading someone became my second nature. I suspect it's the same for all of you since you can't stop knitting your brows as if you're reading a difficult textbook."

"Sixteen? How old are you?" Derek had a great estimation of your age; everyone did.

"She's thirty-six. So old, right?" Liam wrapped an arm around you, grinning.

"You started when you were twenty?" Spencer curiously asked. An underlying question in his mind. How?

You pursed your lips, a small pop echoing between all of you. "You know those movies where the character was raised to her parents' trophy?" They nodded simultaneously, like children eager for their mother's story. "My life was kind of like that." You explained carefully.

The others joined you, making short eye contact with Aaron. Jeanne stood next to you. "And we're sad that she's retiring." She announced lightly.

JJ looked at you in awe. You were only a few years older than her. It was inspiring to hear your story. "What are you gonna do after you retire?"

"Find a job that's less undercover work, but still occupies most of my days. Old habits die hard." In short, you didn't have a plan. All you knew was that after the case, you didn't want to work as undercover anymore.

"Come work with us!" Penelope blurted, earning everyone's attention. She glanced at Aaron, "We have an opening. Right, Hotch?" A sly smile decorated her cheery face.

Aaron raised his eyebrows, then met your gaze. He still owed you a box of bubblegum if he remembers clearly. And seeing your gorgeous face and watching you take down unsub more often didn't sound like such a horrible idea.

He bit the threatening smirk on his lips. "Yeah, I think we do."

[snapghoul]

I'm loving this extended Tom Cruise Universe you're building with Top Gun and Mission Impossible. It's just so much fun!!

Do you have any thoughts about Ethan and Bradley interacting? I'd love to see baby Bradley being So Confused by the whole twin situation, but I'd also love to see something with grown up Bradley. Really just anything with those two.

Thank you so much for sharing your writing with us!! 💙💙

Hehe I love the cruise multiverse, I’m having so much fun and I love that you are enjoying it. Here’s some more Mitchell twins and Bradley ❤️

Vignettes of Bradley and Ethan.

Mav is there too

Warnings: foul language

The first time Bradley mistook Ethan for Mav was when he was five.

Ethan stepped into Carol’s house, arriving right on time at four o'clock, though he wasn’t sure where his brother was. He stood awkwardly by the door—familiar with Carol, but having not been around much lately.

“Mav! Mav! Look!” Suddenly, little Bradley clung to Ethan’s leg, bouncing excitedly while holding up a shiny red diecast car. Caught off guard, Ethan quickly bent down and lifted Bradley onto his hip.

“Look! Mom got me a new car!” Bradley beamed, proudly displaying the toy. Ethan chuckled, taking the car with his free hand and admiring it.

“Wow, kid! That’s a great one!” He grinned back at the toddler, who was still glowing with excitement.

Just then, the door swung open behind him and bumped into Ethan's hip. He turned to see Pete, clad in his brown bomber jacket and aviators, his hair tousled from a motorcycle ride.

Pete's face lit up at the sight of his twin. He shut the door and clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, unaware of Bradley's bewilderment as he glanced back and forth between them. Carol appeared around the corner, laughing at her son's confused expression.

“Hey, little man! Is that Camaro from your mom?” Pete asked, enthusiasm bubbling over as he reached for the car. Bradley released it without hesitation, eyes wide.

“This is awesome!” Pete exclaimed, turning the car in his hands. But Bradley's confusion shifted to fear; he squirmed in Ethan's arms and began to whine. Without protest, Ethan set him down, and Bradley dashed to his mother, burying his face in her legs.

Pete burst out laughing, while Ethan felt a flush of embarrassment.

. ✰ .

Bradley was beginning to appreciate Mav’s affection for his desert hangar; it offered a peaceful escape from the chaos of everyday life. He navigated around the wing of Mav’s P-51 Mustang, the morning sun casting a warm glow as he recalled his promise to spend the weekend with Mav.

“Fuck!—Jesus Christ!” He jumped as he passed a makeshift living area, where Ethan sat on the couch, wide awake and stock still. The longer hair and nondescript clothing were a clear departure from Mav’s usual style. “What are you doing here?”

“Just enjoying a quiet morning,” Ethan shrugged, his calm demeanor oddly fitting in the dim light of the hangar. Most of the lights were off, but sunlight filtered through, illuminating the space.

Bradley ran a hand through his hair, bemused. That was quintessentially Ethan—unfazed and unpredictable. “Where’s Mav?”

“He took his bike out for a ride. Said he ran out of the good coffee.” Ethan smiled as if this was perfectly normal.

“And you didn’t go with him?” Given their shared love for speed, it was surprising that Ethan had opted to stay behind.

“I’ve had enough motorcycles for a while. The last one didn’t end well,” he replied casually. The nonchalance made Bradley raise an eyebrow—what could Ethan possibly have done to total a bike and walk away unharmed?

“It wasn’t mine, so don’t worry,” Ethan added, sensing Bradley's concern and waving it off, which only deepened Bradley's confusion.

. ✰ .

Bonus:

“Mav, what does Ethan do?” Bradley asked one day, having watched the man come and go throughout his life—sometimes battered and other times radiant. Yet, he had never heard Ethan discuss his work.

Pete paused, setting down his pen and glancing up from the paperwork Cyclone had assigned him. Bradley often sought refuge in Mav’s cramped office to escape the Vice Admiral’s presence.

“He’s in government work. Used to be in the Army, then transferred to another division after his honorable discharge,” Pete replied, carefully avoiding the specifics. The IMF was not a topic for casual conversation.

“Huh.” Bradley frowned, skepticism etched on his face. That explanation didn’t clarify anything for him.

Bonus 2:

Average Bradley reaction to Ethan dropping random lore every time he’s around and never elaborating (no one tells him anything):

[thistuesdaynight]

Invincible

prongsfoot fluff microfic drunk prongsfoot first kiss, unrequited wolfstar, light angst this plot bunny would not go away. It might even become a little series? idk we'll see what happens.

"James," Sirius hisses, voice straining. "Come on, mate. Help me out here."

James couldn't stop giggling.

He often felt like that after drinking, like everything in the world was just so funny, how could he not laugh along? And he certainly was drunk tonight. He and Sirius had gone out together, taking shots like there was no tomorrow. But the bubbly, bouyant feeling in James' chest may not have been from the alcohol, but from Sirius' arm around his middle.

"I had such a good night," James sighed, delighted to be here with his best mate in the whole world feeling drunk, and happy, and invincible.

He loved how he always felt invincible when he was with Sirius.

"That's great, Prongs, but could you pick up your feet?"

Sirius was just as sloshed as James, but James always tended to get floppy when he was drunk. They swayed up to the front door of the house, pressed together hip to hip, Sirius holding onto James' waist, and James was buzzing from the warm point of contact.

After dropping them twice, James finally managed to get the keys into the lock. However, the door was finicky, and in his addled state, he couldn't twist and unlock it properly.

"Bollocks," James cursed. "Bloody door."

"Here," Sirius murmured, reaching over him.

Sirius took the keys from James' grasp, brushing over his fingers and sending goosebumps up his arm. It must have been the cold night breeze. Sirius leaned in closer to maneuver the sticky lock, invading James' space.

James traced the line of Sirius' jaw with his gaze, desperately wanting to know what it felt like under his lips. From this close, James could count the freckles on Sirius' ear, blow warm breath across his neck, and breathe in his scent of spearmint and eucalyptus.

He was captivated by the curl of dark hair currently falling over Sirius' brow, which was furrowed in concentration as he fiddled with the door. What would it be like to brush the hair from his face? To take those soft pink lips with his own…

With a great heave, Sirius finally got the door unstuck and the two boys tumbled forward into their front room, the door slamming behind them. They landed in heap of tangled of limbs, James on his back, and Sirius half on top of him, his curls hanging into James' face. James dissolved into hooting laughter, guffawing from the ridiculousness of it all.

"Prongs, shhhh!" Sirius shushed him with a hand over his mouth, but he was holding back giggles of his own, face flushed red with mirth. "Shh, Remus and Pete are sleeping."

James tried to respond, but Sirius still had his hand over his mouth, which caused them both to erupt into barely contained sniggers, grinning like idiots.

"What were you going to say?" Sirius giggled, moving his hand down so that James could speak, but keeping a finger on James' bottom lip.

"Who cares if they're sleeping! They should have come out to celebrate with us."

James and Sirius liked to go out sometimes to celebrate on random Fridays, just to commemorate the start of the weekend. Peter and Remus valued their sleep too much to go out with Sirius and James every weekend.

"Nah, it's better like this," Sirius whispered, his gaze roaming James' face.

James looked up at Sirius, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight, smiling down at James like he was the only thing in the world. James felt that same bubbly effervescence in his veins, and he didn't care whether it was the alcohol or not.

Invincible.

"Yeah, Pete can't hold his liquor for shit."

Sirius sniggered, laughing so hard that his whole body was shaking from trying to stay quiet. He swayed forward, resting his mouth on his fingers, which were still on James' lips. Sirius' warm breath whooshed over his tongue, and James tried to drink it in. Sirius tipped forward even more, until he was giggling into James' mouth, grazing his tongue, and smiling against James' bottom lip.

And every touch, every breath, every connection sent electricity humming through James' veins.

Sirius.

Invincible.

James surged upward, meeting Sirius's tongue with his own, moving his lips over his, and inhaling his scent like it was oxygen. He kissed Sirius so hard that the other boy fell back until James hovered over him, devouring Sirius' mouth like it was his last meal.

It was Sirius.

His Sirius, and they were kissing. His best mate, but they didn't feel so friendly any more.

Their noses knocked together as they pressed impossibly closer, sharing heat and breath, and this- this was better than being drunk, James decided.

Sirius Black was his own personal drug.

He needed him more than anything. More than everything.

James took Sirius' bottom lip between his teeth, pulling back slowly, enjoying the keening moan that left Sirius. He placed his lips on Sirius' throat, tracing it with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, and it was better than he'd imagined.

"Wait," Sirius said, out of breath and chest heaving. "We can't."

The words didn't register, and James continued his ministrations underneath Sirius jaw, because he wanted nothing more than to swallow him whole and be swallowed in return. But Sirius pushed on his shoulders. "We can't, James. You're drunk. We're drunk."

James pulled back, dazed and wanting nothing more than to have Sirius Black under his hands and in his mouth once again. "Drunk?" James pouted, petulantly.

"Yes, James," Sirius sat up on his elbow, pushing James out of the way to do the same. "We're drunk. We're not thinking straight."

James looked at Sirius, the angles and planes of his face, the smoothness of his skin, that mane of raven hair that James wanted to tangle his fingers in and never let go.

"Nope, not straight at all," James murmured.

Sirius gaped at him for a moment, letting out a surprised chuckle. Then he surged forward to capture his lips once again.

It was like Sirius couldn't help himself. He hummed into the kiss, reaching up to card his fingers through James' hair. Sirius gave a gentle tug on the strands, and James felt it all the way to the base of his spine, moaning wantonly into Sirius' mouth.

"Fuck, James," Sirius groaned, the noise only spurring him on.

Sirius moved to put a knee between James' legs, and the pressure was so exquisite James thought he would combust right there. He let out a whine, grabbing at hips, clothes and skin, clutching Sirius closer.

The light turned on then, a voice breaking them from their hormone cloud. "Prongs? Padf--"

Remus stood in the hallway in his pajamas, squinting from the light, and probably from the confusing scene in front of him. James bit his lip, wanting to laugh again, but when he looked closer, he realized that Remus wasn't confused, he was horrified. Frowning, James looked to Sirius, who was flushed and anguished.

Sirius pushed off of James, sitting up and allowing a rush of cold air to slip between them.

"Remus," Sirius said, guilty and pleading.

Remus said nothing, face stony. He just turned and went back to his room. Sirius buried his face in his hands, while James watched on, bewildered, his drunken buzz going silent.

Read Part 2 here!

[raccoonfallsharder]

rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day four family✷.⁺⋆˚₊

semi-romantic fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | minific | word count: 1,274.

The artificial daylight of Knowhere has gone from bright and pearly to bronze and slanted, and now it’s finally sunk low in velvet purples. The Star Kids don’t really have bedtimes because every adult here is a frickin’ pushover, so they’re dancing under the sleep-shift sky, all spangled and studded with tiny plasma orbs jingling on strings over the streets, glowing like warm white moons. 

It’s not an uncommon part of life on Knowhere — not anymore. Neither is the heartwrenchingly light laughter ringing out from the streets, from the rooftop bars, and from the second level of Mantlo’s, where the usual poker players have meandered out to the mezzanine in order to watch the celebration. 

Rocket leans back against the step where he’s slouched: tail flicking peacefully, ears swiveling to follow the sounds, nose twitching. The Star Kids smell like Indigarran peaches and moonlight, and there are lingering curls of Contraxian tobacco and Ssssaralami’s moonshine. The spiced fragrance of grilled orloni and yaro-stuffed pastries fill the streets. It’s all overlaid by a sugary scent: the bastardized Luphomoid honeycakes that you’d helped Nebula resurrect from her childhood, just especially for today.

Nobody knows when the Star Kids were born — if they were born at all — but you’d insisted there needed to be something to mark a birthday of sorts. 

Children need celebrations, you’d told him and Nebs one night over drinks, and Drax the Dad had enthusiastically concurred. And so this — the anniversary of the liberation of the Arête, of the children’s arrival on Knowhere — has suddenly become some sort of festival, some sort of revelry. Nearly every citizen of Knowhere is out on the streets: eating, dancing, singing, chattering. Ruffling the childrens’ hair. Steemie Blueliver has come down from the mezzanine, and the Star Kids take turns flipping themselves over his tree-trunk arms or letting him spin them over his head. Mantis had come back to visit — just for this, from the frickin’ ass-end of the universe — and she’d picked up Pete while she was at it. Both of them are laughing with Nebs and Kraglin, while Cosmo barks and prances in the center of a bright ring of giggling kids. A cluster of raccoons from the Arête watch from the rooftop of the laundromat: still young, but no longer babies. Their fur is glossy and their bodies are soft and round, and they keep an eye out for dropped street-food. 

And the music — the music is alive. It floats down the insides of Rocket’s bones: sweet and sparkling with little bubbles, like carbonated wine. 

Rocket takes another mouthful of his fruit-flavored milky-fizz — spiked with something you’d sneaked him before the festivities; you’d told him it was strawberry schnapps — and he watches. 

He catches it: the moment you clock him there on the steps. Your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, and it looks like you’ve got stardust in your lashes. You’re talking to Hoobtoe and Phloko, but you’ve only got eyes for him — warm, and inviting. He tilts his plastic carton toward you in a mockery of a toast, then clamps his teeth onto the straw and takes another sip. The skull’s ventilation systems kick on and a breeze sweeps delicately through the streets, teasing the scents of food and booze, and playing with the fibrous platinum strands of the Star Kids’ hair. Each child’s head is gleaming: pale and reflecting back dapples of radiance. Rocket swears that everywhere he looks — the tiny candles on the honeycakes, the plasma-orb string-lights, the wide eyes of the kids, and you — he can see halos and rays of light. Soft starbursts, and luminous, hazy hexagons. Little motes of crushed-up bone-dust, dancing in and out of the shadows like antigravity glitter.

A little curl of concern shows between your brows as you toss him another glance — he’d guess it’s hard for you to read him right now, because his eyeshine is probably throwing all that gorgeous light back at you. Like rubies, you’d told him once, which had probably been when he’d first started falling in love with you, if he’s being honest. Now, dazzling in the gold and shadow, you laugh at something Hoobtoe says, and you pat Phloko’s shoulder before weaving away from them — smiling at Xlomo Smeth and Ssssaralami, nodding your greetings while you walk past. You pause at the little table still stacked high with honeycakes.

And then make your way toward Rocket.

You tuck yourself next to him on the step, even when he doesn’t move — content to stay half-sprawled next to you, his arm draped casually across the stair behind your back. He looks up at you with his ruby-eyes, and then down at the honeycake in your hands. It’s got one of those teeny candles in it, lit up like a piece of amber held to the sun. You’re glowing in the gold of it,  warm and apple-cheeked — eyes all glimmery, just for him. 

“You okay?” you ask carefully.

He turns his eyes back to the streets so his heart doesn’t fall apart like the overblown petals of an autumn flower in his chest. The scene there doesn’t help though: everything is as warm as fresh-baked bread. Groot’s joined Steemie, tossing the kids in the air. Even Howard’s come down from the mezzanine, awkwardly patting the head of a child who’s taller than he is, while he tries to protect his cocktail from the jumble of bodies. Rocket eyes him, then snorts and shakes his head. A soft huff leaves his mouth: too short to be a chuckle, too affectionate to be a scoff.

“I’m good,” he rasps out. “Just thinkin’.”

“About what?” 

The corner of his mouth curves in a perplexed, uncertain little smile, like his head hasn’t caught up with the rest of reality. “‘Bout how I used to think I wanted to be alone.” 

He sips his milky-fizz. The strawberry schnapps warm his belly. Howard would love this shit, Rocket thinks. 

He reminds himself not to let the guy near it. 

“Why’d you bring that over?” he asks, nodding at the candlelit honeycake cupped in your palms. 

You reach toward him with it, lifting it for him: a sugar-sweet little offering. “Today is your day, too, you know.” 

He blinks up at you, a protest filling his mouth before he pauses and tilts his head consideringly. 

He supposes you’re right. He supposes he had been trapped on the Arête, for far longer than he’d realized. 

“Okay,” he says mildly, and he can see the way you startle at how agreeable he sounds right now. He shrugs, sets down the milky-fizz on the step between his feet, and takes the cake in his hand. “What’s with the candle?”

“Pete brought them,” you  tell him. “It’s a birthday tradition on Terra. A candle for every year.” You smile at him. “When you blow it out, you make a wish.”

He looks up at you, and then out at the wide glimmering lake of people, all shadow and shimmer. He turns the golden cake in his hand like he’s studying it: trying to read something in the fruit-infused icing and the amber-glow flame. Then he turns his eyes out again to the people of Knowhere: music and mirth and the joy of belonging. And from this angle — up close, and unhidden by eyeshine — you can see the moment when ironic amusement turns into something just a shade off of wonder. 

His fingers are usually so quick you can barely follow them — but now he reaches up with his other hand, almost lazily, and casually pinches out the wisp of candleflame. 

“I think I’m good on wishes, actually.”

there's that critical mass word-count. i personally think it is very cool of me that i took till thursday to break a thousand.

day three. emotionalistic ✷ day five. machinery rocket prompt week masterlist ✷ main masterlist rocket raccoon prompt week list

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

[kenny-power]

Attack Me

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning(s) - slight language, minor violence described

A/N - this is my first attempt at writing a fight scene, so if it's bad - sorry! Hope you enjoy! <3 (Also, Peter is my son & that accidentally bled into my writing, but im not sorry!!)

✨✨✨

"Why are we just standing here… staring at each other? …What are you doing? Can you, like, attack me or something?"

It all started out as a typical Tuesday. Steve, Tony, Nat, and Thor were on a recon mission somewhere in Europe. Clint was cooking something delicious-smelling in the communal kitchen. Peter had just gotten off school and told Y/N about his day. Without looking, Y/N knew that Bucky was in his room, having finished training. 

He trained a lot when Steve was gone. 

Not that Y/N watched him or knew his routine. That would be creepy. She just…likes to observe him. To understand what he's doing throughout the day. It's only because she's concerned, not creepy. Steve seems to be his only friend, the only one he wants to talk to. Not for lack of trying on her part, though. And, she tried. 

As one of the team's newer members, Y/N thought it'd be nice to reach out to Bucky and try to befriend him. She always thought he looked so lonely when Steve brought him in. He was still dealing with mental after-shocks of remembering who he was before the Winter Soldier. According to Steve, Bucky was very outgoing and chivalrous, but that man is long gone, now only a shell of insecurity and doubt. It makes Y/N's heart ache for him. But Bucky apparently wants nothing to do with anyone who's not Steve. It's considered a miracle if he's even seen out of the gym or his room for longer than to get meals when Steve's away. 

"Y/N? Are you listening?" Peter's voice cuts through her train of thought, effectively derailing it. She blinks and smiles guiltily at Peter.

"Yes, sorry, Pete. Just got a little lost in thought. Anyways, you were saying? What did M.J. say to him?" Peter isn't deterred by Y/N's lack of concentration and dives back into his story. Something about M.J. and Ned and a silly argument they had at lunch. Y/N smiles fondly at him, endeared by the passionate way the kid retells the story. 

The comfortable quiet is suddenly cut short by J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice crackling to life. 

"Pardon the interruption…" The A.I.'s voice cuts out suddenly before coming back in, "I am being scrambled. Please take defensive positions. We have an intrud--"the voice cuts out completely. Y/N jumps to her feet, pulling Peter with her to the kitchen. Clint was there and armed with weapons he had stashed somewhere. 

"Clint, what's going on?" Y/N took two steak knives from the silverware drawer, keeping one in her hands and tucking the other into her belt. Not the best weapons, but she doubted she'd have time to run to her room before anything happened. By her side, Peter was rolling up his sleeves, revealing his web shooters. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?” She called up to the ceiling. "What's happening?" The A.I. did not respond. Clint looked like he was going to say something before the sound of footsteps cut him off. 

Everyone turned to look at the sound in the hall. Y/N pushed Peter further behind her, gripping her knife more tightly. Bucky stepped out of the shadows, to everyone's relief. His hair was damp as if he had just gotten out of the shower. Y/N's shoulders relaxed at the sight of him. Clint stepped up.

"Something's happening. Is everyone armed?" He did a once-over of everyone, satisfied. "Okay, listen. We need to-. "The lights cut out, Peter instantly latching onto Y/N. "Shit. Okay, everyone, stay close." Y/N could hear fumbling as Clint or Peter; she couldn't tell who; tried to find the generator's button in the electric panel. Eventually, they did, making the backup light flicker on, washing everyone in an orange glow. 

J.A.R.V.I.S.'s speakers crackled back on, but it wasn't the A.I. who spoke. An unfamiliar voice spoke instead. Bucky stiffened instantly, seemingly recognizing the voice. 

"Hello, second-string Avengers," an accented voice said. 

"Hey! We're not second-string!" Peter whispered. Y/N shushed him. The voice continued. 

"How fortunate for me that the day I have come to speak to you, the best of you are absent." 

Okay, now it's getting hurtful, Y/N thought. 

"I have come for one thing and one thing only." Said the voice. Bucky turned to the rest of the group. 

"We need to leave. Now." He sounded urgent and nervous. His eyes were frantically darting around, looking like he was about to start grabbing people and dragging them towards the exit. 

"I have come for you, Winter Soldier." He froze, face in a panic Y/N had never seen before. 

"Bucky? What's going on? Who is that?" Bucky ignored her question. 

"Surprised to hear me, Soldat?" The panic dropped from Bucky's face and was replaced with a cold mask. 

"Everyone, leave now." He growled out. Then, he looked up suddenly into Y/N's face, searching her eyes imploringly. "Please. Leave." Y/N nodded and started to pull Peter away from the kitchen towards the elevator, Clint following. That's when the voice began speaking again. 

"Longing." Y/N pushed the elevator buttons rapidly, but nothing happened. 

"Rusted." The power had been cut, and the elevator would not be coming.

"Furnace." Bucky, still in the kitchen, yelled in rage.

"Daybreak."

"The stairs!" Peter cried, "Let's go." He took off running towards the stairs, the two adults behind him. 

"Seventeen." Something shattered in the kitchen. Bucky was trying to resist the trigger words. It would be of no use. 

"Go, go, go!” Y/N chanted, pushing Peter forward. 

"Benign." Peter made it to the stairs' door first, slamming into it. Something had it jammed.

"Nine." 

"Move!" Clint barked. He took his bow off his back and hit it against the door handle. It took a couple of tries, but the handle broke off, allowing him to ram his shoulder into the door, crashing it open.

"Homecoming." Y/N followed Pete and him down the stairs to ensure Peter was first. They had to put as much distance between them and Bucky as possible. They could still hear the intercom in the stairwell. 

"One." It won't be enough. The Winter Soldier is unstoppable. They won't make it.

They won't make it.

"Freight car." Faintly, Y/N could hear everything go silent in the kitchen. 

"Ready to comply," she heard Bucky - no, he's the Winter Soldier now - say. It broke her heart. 

The man on the intercom laughed. It was a horrible, cruel laugh. Then he simply said, "Stop them." 

Y/N's heart dropped to her stomach. The group running burst into one of the lower floors, still nowhere near the building's exit. Damn Stark and his need to live on the highest floor of the Tower. Panting, she looks at the others.

"What…what do we do? Can we really subdue Bucky when he's like this? What if he hurts someone? We can't fight him." 

Peter looked nervous; Bucky was his teammate. He didn't want to have to fight him. Clint looked up. 

"We're going to have to try. Nothing lethal, but we need to take down the Winter Soldier. I've already notified the team overseas, but they won't be here for a few hours. It's up to us." Y/N nodded. 

Take him down. Take down Bucky. Oh boy, that's gonna be hard.  

Coming up with a plan, the small team got into position. The floor they were on was one of the lower-level training gyms made for non-Avengers-level agents. Unfortunately, the mysterious intruder had done his due diligence, and the floor was deserted. Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that other floors were similarly populated. Steeling herself, she looked at Clint and Peter. 

"Okay. Nonlethal takedown. Let's make it quick, with as little injury as possible. Pete, Clint, you guys start up high. I'll go low. We ambush him and take him down." Y/N paused, frowning, "He didn't have any access to guns before this, did he?" Clint shook his head.

"I don't think so, but we can't be too careful." Y/N nodded.

"Alright, go team?" She grimaced at them. Their smiles back were forced, nervous. Peter was practically vibrating. Y/N found a vantage point near the back of the gym, tucking herself behind some mats but still allowing space to flee or fight. She watched Peter swing his way up to the rafters from her spot, crouching in the darkness. Clint climbed to the top of the climbing wall, nesting with his bow and arrows ready. Y/N saw that he only had out his non-lethal arrows. Taser ones, netting ones, grappling ones, things like that. 

It was silent in the room; not even their breathing could be heard. The door slowly creaked open. Y/N clutched the steak knives she took from the kitchen. Terrible weapons; they would barely do anything against the Winter freakin' Soldier. 

His footsteps were heavy, slow. He was hunting his prey. Y/N's heart thudded in her chest. Somehow, this was more terrifying than raiding an entire HYDRA compound. 

Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier had molded him into the perfect weapon. Silent. Fierce. Deadly.

The Soldier's eyes swept across the room, looking for anything out of place. He had no visible weapons in his hands, thank God, but that did not give Y/N much pause. The Soldier himself was a weapon just as deadly. 

Y/N remained as still as possible, not wanting to give up her position until the last possible second. She only hoped the boys would do the same. Keeping close to the edge of the wall, the Soldier crept around the room's circumference, ensuring his back was covered. Damn, that's smart. She saw movement in the rafters out of the corner of her eye. Peter was making his way across the ceiling, intending to drop down behind Bucky.

It's as if he could sense the shift in the air. Bucky whirled around, and his foot caught Peter in the stomach. The poor boy flew across the gym, his momentum slamming him into some pads leaning against the wall. Y/N smothered her gasp. Arrows rained down around Bucky, forming a net. Clint moved from his place on the climbing wall, the Soldier's eyes tracking him. He wound up his metal arm without a sound, tangling the mesh in it before snapping it completely. Well, there went that plan. 

Sparing a glance at Peter, he was still moving - thank goodness, Y/N ran up behind Bucky. There was no way he couldn't have heard her coming, and yet, she was able to jump on his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his neck - something she learned from Nat. Trying to use their combined weights against him, she flung her body backward, intending to launch the both of them to the ground. He anticipated this, widening his stance to remain upright. All Y/N achieved was ending up upside down on his back. Not exactly what she intended, but it provided a nice distraction. 

Three quick web shots hit the Soldier in the face, obscuring his vision. The Soldier grunted, trying to free himself from Y/N's grip and the webbing. A well-aimed whistling sound pierced the air as the Winter Soldier struggled to break free from Y/N's unexpected hold and the webbing covering his face. It was Hawkeye, back in action.

Clint had repositioned himself during the brief distraction Y/N had caused. He had a clear shot now and wasn't about to waste it. With perfect precision, he let loose an electrified arrow. The arrow sailed through the air and embedded itself in his metal shoulder.

Electricity surged through the webbing, sending sparks flying and involuntarily causing the Winter Soldier to convulse. The shock temporarily incapacitated him, forcing him to release Y/N. She rolled away from him just in time, regaining her footing.

The Winter Soldier, despite the overwhelming assault from Hawkeye and Y/N, was not one to stay down for long. His enhanced resilience and combat training began to shine through. Y/N almost admired him as he shook off the effects of the stun arrows, regaining his composure.

Just as Spider-Man swung back into the fray, his spider-sense tingling, he faced a renewed and focused Winter Soldier. Bucky's metal arm whirred to life as he delivered a powerful blow, knocking Spider-Man off balance. 

Peter managed to dodge subsequent strikes using his speed and agility, but the Winter Soldier relentlessly pursued him. Bucky's combat experience allowed him to predict Spider-Man's movements, and the two engaged in a high-speed, acrobatic duel throughout the gym. Y/N was left to hover near them, unable to find an opening but staying near just in case. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit…”

She could hear Peter’s constant cursing under his breath, a stark contrast to his usual quips and puns he made when fighting. The poor kid was terrified. 

Peter fired web projectiles, attempting to ensnare the Winter Soldier, but Bucky deftly evaded them or shattered the webbing with his metal arm. Clearly, the Soldier had regained his footing, and Pete was having difficulty keeping up with the relentless assault.

With a sudden burst of speed, the Soldier closed the distance between them, delivering a punishing punch that sent Spider-Man crashing through a wall and into the next room. The impact left Spider-Man disoriented and weakened.

"Peter!" Y/N couldn't help herself. That looked like it really hurt. A pained groan answered her, and she could make out the faint outline of Pete's thumbs-up. In any other situation, Y/N would have laughed. But now was obviously not the time. 

With Spider-Man temporarily out of the picture, the Winter Soldier shifted his focus to the next threat at hand, Hawkeye. Clint had taken cover behind a stack of gym mats, his bow ready. But the Winter Soldier was relentless and determined to eliminate them one by one.

Bucky moved stealthily through the gym, his enhanced senses and combat skills allowing him to easily track Clint's movements. He spotted Clint's hiding place and swiftly closed the distance, using cover whenever possible to avoid Clint's arrows.

Clint was in a precarious situation. He had already used many of his specialized arrows in the earlier assault on the Winter Soldier, leaving him limited options. He had to rely on his agility and marksmanship to evade Bucky's pursuit. As Bucky closed in, Clint made a split-second decision. He sprang from behind the gym mats and fired a grappling arrow into the rafters. With a swift, fluid motion, he swung up, suspending himself high above the Winter Soldier's reach.

Bucky's metal arm lashed out, attempting to grab Clint, but Clint's acrobatic skills kept him just out of reach. From his elevated vantage point, Clint quickly assessed the situation. He needed a distraction to gain the upper hand. With impeccable aim, Clint launched a specialized arrow toward a nearby support beam. The arrow detonated upon impact, causing the gym's ceiling to rain debris. Bucky shielded himself with his metal arm, momentarily blinded by the dust and debris.

Seizing this opportunity, Clint descended from the rafters, drawing his collapsible staff. He struck at Bucky's exposed flank, his blows swift and precise. The Winter Soldier grunted in pain as Clint landed a series of well-placed hits.

Y/N took this brief moment to check on Peter. She pulled him from the rubble of the wall he went through. 

"You alright?" She asked, dusting him off. He nodded. "Listen to me, kid. Me and Clint will keep him distracted. I need you to get the word out to anyone left in the building. Don't get caught, okay?" 

"But…but I can still fight," he coughed. 

"I know, I know. This is you helping." She paused. "If you happen to come across the bastard who started this, take him out." Peter smiled and nodded. He then shot a web up to an air vent, climbed through and disappeared. Y/N turned back to the fight and made her way back to them, observing. 

But Bucky's resilience was astounding. Despite the assault, he regained his footing, using his metal arm to block the staff and disarm Clint. With a powerful kick, Bucky sent Clint sprawling backward.

Clint landed hard, his body aching from the impact. He tried to regain his composure, but the Winter Soldier closed in, relentless. Clint was slumped against the wall, incapacitated for now. 

A sudden voice cut through the tension as Bucky prepared for his next attack. 

"Hey!" She yelled, probably not the best choice, but she ran out of options. "Come and fight me, Soldier." Bucky's eyes darkened, and he stalked over to Y/N. She prepared to fight, ready to try to exhaust the Soldier until Clint recovered or backup came. 

He slowly approached Y/N, stopping a few feet from her. His stance did not indicate that he would hit her or anything. 

 The hesitation was unusual. Straight-up weird. His icy blue eyes seemed locked onto hers, and their tension was palpable. She decided to break the silence with a mixture of exasperation and curiosity.

"Why are we just standing here… staring at each other?" Y/N questioned, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and curiosity. "What are you doing? Can you, like, attack me or something?"

Her words snapped the Soldier out of his internal conflict, at least temporarily. He blinked as if awakening from a trance, and his tense posture relaxed slightly. With a conflicted expression, the Winter Soldier lowered his metal arm, his reluctance to fight evident. Y/N's brows furrowed, completely confused. What is happening? Why isn’t he fighting? I wonder…

Recalling what Steve once told her he did to break Bucky from his mind-control, Y/N took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Bucky," she said firmly, her voice filled with resolve. "I know you're in there. You can fight it."

Her words struck a chord with him, sparking a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He grappled with the mental conditioning that had controlled him for so long, struggling to regain control. Y/N took a step closer, her hand reaching out to touch his metal arm firmly. He flinched slightly. Y/N took in a breath before continuing, trying to channel what she remembered Steve doing to calm him down. "Remember who you are," she urged. "You're James Buchanan Barnes."

He hesitated, the internal battle intensifying. He clenched his metal fist, the struggle evident on his face.

"Bucky," Y/N said, her voice steady, trying another tactic. "Remember those midnight snack runs we used to go on?" His brows furrowed slightly, a hint of recognition flickering in his eyes.

"We'd sneak into the kitchen when everyone else was asleep," Y/N continued, her tone filled with warmth. "You'd grab a bag of chips, and I'd raid the cookie jar. We'd sit at the kitchen counter, I would talk and you’d pretend not to listen.” She paused, a small smile touching her lips as she recalled those stolen moments late at night.

The Soldier's gaze seemed to focus on a distant memory, and his clenched fist started to relax. 

“I’d talk about everything and nothing," Y/N continued. “My dreams, fears, and all the adventures I wanted us to go on once everything settled down." She reached out and gently touched his normal arm, entirely at his mercy if he decided to attack her. "I know you're still in there, Bucky," she whispered, "You can come back to me. Just come back."

The Winter Soldier hesitated, the internal battle between his conditioning and buried memories raging within him. But Y/N's words had ignited a spark of recognition, and he began taking tentative steps toward his normal self.

Finally, with a surge of inner strength, Bucky broke free from the grip of his conditioning. His arms trembled, and he fell to his knees, his face contorted in pain.

Y/N knelt beside him, offering her support and a reassuring nod. Tears welled in her eyes as she saw the pain he was going through. But more than that, questions surfaced. How was she able to break the Winter Soldier's conditioning? Why didn't he fight her? What does this mean for them?

The speaker system crackled on. 

"Hey, guys. I, uh, I got the dude!" Peter's voice came through. "I'm gonna give J.A.R.V.I.S. back control." The system beeped, and the A.I.'s voice came through the speakers.

"I apologize for my absence; congratulations on subduing the threat. Mr. Stark and company are en route to the Tower, touchdown in approximately two hours. Please commence the Winter Soldier Recovery Protocol." Y/N knew what that meant. Bucky needed to be locked up until he could be examined and it could be determined that he was not under the Soldier's influence. 

Clint walked over, looking beaten but not too worse for wear. Mostly, he had the wind knocked out of him. He handed Y/N a set of handcuffs, specially made to resist the strength of the many enhanced residents of the Tower. Y/N put them on Bucky before kneeling in front of him again and looking him in the eyes. 

"I'm sorry, you know I have to do this." She gave him a sad smile. 

"Yeah…I know." He rasped out. He allowed her to get him to his feet and take him to the holding cell. 

Tony dubbed it the "Winter Soldier time-out Room." 

Y/N preferred not to call it that. 

~

It was 14 hours before Bucky was allowed out of the holding cell. First, they had to wait for the rest of the team to return from the recon mission. Then, they had to deal with the intruder Peter took down. Apparently, some low-level HYDRA agent got involved with the Winter Soldier project. He had a grand idea that if he could control the Winter Soldier, he could bring HYDRA back from the ground. 

Yeah, he's in prison now. 

After evaluation, it was determined that Y/N completely got Bucky out of his Soldier state. How, she had no idea. Nothing like that had ever happened to Bucky before. Not even Steve had answers. Whenever he tried to bring Bucky back, there were always some residual effects of the mind control. But Bucky was acting just as he was a week ago. 

Or at least, he should be.��

If Y/N thought he was evasive before, that was nothing compared to now. Now, Bucky was straight-up avoiding her. Whenever she'd enter a room he was in, he'd suddenly get up and leave - not even offering an excuse. She hadn't expected how much that would actually hurt her. She missed him and their time spent together, what little of it there used to be. 

One evening, late after everyone had gone to bed except for him, Y/N decided she couldn't bear the distance any longer. She had to confront Bucky and get answers. She found him in the dimly lit living room, alone by the window, lost in his thoughts.

Y/N walked in, her footsteps echoing softly in the room, and the weight of her emotions resting heavily on her shoulders. She took a deep breath and said, "Bucky, we need to talk."

Bucky turned to look at her, his expression a mixture of longing and torment. 

"Y/N," he began, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness, "I need you to understand something. You stopped the Winter Soldier that day, but it doesn't mean everything's okay."

Y/N's brows furrowed as she approached him, her heart pounding. "I know, Bucky, but you've been avoiding me ever since. Why?"

Bucky turned away, his jaw clenched as if struggling to find the words. 

"Why was it you?" Y/N continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "Why could I reach you when no one else could? Why didn’t you attack even as the Soldier?”

Bucky sighed, a deep, heavy sigh full of emotion. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact.

"Because..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “Because I love you, Y/N."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening with surprise. She had never suspected it; hearing those words from Bucky's lips left her breathless.

Bucky finally met her gaze, his eyes filled with longing and uncertainty. "I love you," he repeated, his voice gaining strength. "And that's why I've been avoiding you. I was scared that the Winter Soldier might return and hurt you if I got close to you. I can't bear the thought of that."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she reached out to cup Bucky's face, her touch gentle and tender. "Bucky," she said, her voice quivering, "you don't have to be afraid anymore. We'll face whatever comes together. I love you too.”

[ironh3artstark]

Request tony and peter having one year anniversary sex of dating and being official couple. Tony proposed to Peter! Pls write that 😍

Hey! Hope this is okay, I’ve been pretty busy lol! <3 enjoy!!!!

Today officially marks one year since Peter and Tony became boyfriends.

Tony had decided, earlier that week to cancel all of the plans he had and made sure his lover was available as well. He wanted to make sure it was somewhere special to both of them, because of course, he had something more up his sleeve.

He’s Tony Stark, what did you expect?

He was going to propose to the younger boy, and legally make him his.

It may seem early in the relationship but as far as they’re both concerned, they’ve been in love since they both saw each other the first time, in that small apartment in Queens.

Peter was ecstatic, Tony had offered to take them to see the beauty of Leipzig, Germany when there are no battles or disagreements to be fought over. To be fair, Peter didn't care where Tony wanted to take them. As long as they were together.

When they're in the hotel, Peter can't stop looking everywhere. He's holding onto Tony's hand while he observes the settings. Turning everywhere with his jaw dropped, Tony smiles at how joyful he looks.

Peter grins, "Tony! This is like the most perfect place ever! Besides the lab. It's beautiful." He says and smiles widely at his lover.

Tony smiles, brown eyes filled with love and adoration. He stares down at Peter, "Mm. It is, isn't it?" Peter blushes and looks down to the glossy floor with a huge smile on his face.

"The rooms are already ready. Let's get dressed. I have a surprise for you." Tony says, lifting the hand that is entwined in his, and placing a kiss on Peter's hand.

As they walk to their room, Peter keeps rambling and says stuff along the lines of ‘A suprise? This is great’ and ‘OhmygodOhmygod.’

As Peter and Tony enter their hotel room, Peter's eyes widen in awe at the sight before him. The room is bathed in soft, golden light streaming in from the large windows, casting a warm glow over the elegant furnishings. "Wow," Peter breathes, his voice filled with wonder as he takes in the luxurious surroundings. "Tony, this is incredible." Tony smiles, watching Peter's reaction with fondness.

"I'm glad you like it, Pete. I wanted our anniversary to be special."

Peter walks further into the room, his gaze moving from the plush king-sized bed to the sparkling chandelier overhead. He runs his fingers lightly over the silky duvet, marveling at the attention to detail. "It's like something out of a dream," Peter says, turning to face Tony with a wide grin. "Thank you."Tony steps closer, wrapping his arms around Peter from behind. "You deserve the world, Peter. And I'll do everything in my power to give it to you."Peter leans back into Tony's embrace, “Now, we should get ready. We have a reservation at Schaarschmidts.” Tony winks.

Peter tilts his head at the name and looks confused at the man, wondering if he just spoke English or not.

Tony leans down to press a kiss on Peter’s forehead before walking away to head to one of the two bathrooms in their room.

Peter quickly follows suit and heads to the other bathroom, finding his designer suit hanging up, that fits him in all the right places. He was grateful for Tony’s credit card. Just not as much as he was grateful for the wonderful man he can say he’s happily in love with.

Stepping into the shower to wash himself off from the flight, he gets an idea. He can tell this night is going to end in the sheets, so he wants to surprise Tony.

Peter opens himself thoroughly in the shower, angling away from that pleasurable spot in his ass to wait for his lover later.

He thrusts two fingers in his ass, scissoring and spreading himself so Tony can slide in easily.

Feeling that he’s open enough, he finishes washing his body and hair, turning off the warm water and stepping out.

Peter dries off, wrapping a towel around his waist as he locates a blow dryer.

Quickly styling his hair, he gets dressed in his dark green suit that looks perfect on him. Fixing his sleeves in the mirror, he observes himself as he thinks.

He locates his toiletries bag and pulls out some very smoothing chapstick and sprays on some perfume.

Peter smiles at his appearance and runs his hands through his hair once more, walking out of the bathroom, to find Tony on the bed putting on a watch.

Tony looks amazing. As he always does, but tonight he's everything and more. Tony obviously thinks the same when he looks up from his wrist and observes the younger. Tony quickly stands up.

"God, Peter." "You look amazing, Tony." They both say at the same time and Peter blushes while Tony grins.

Tony steps forward to place a palm against Peter's cheek. He guides him to look from the ground, into his eyes. Tony speaks, "You are gorgeous, honey,"

Peter smiles and tries to tilt his head back down but Tony still wants him to look at the older.

Tony leans down slowly, tipping Peter's head up as his lips press against the thinner ones of Peter.

Peter kisses back, slowly moving his lips with Tony. Tony kisses once more before moving back.

He grins at how pink Peter has gotten. “We’re gonna be late. Let’s continue this later?” Tony asks hopefully.

Peter nods quickly.

They walk out of the room, side by side as Tony guides Peter with a hand on his lower back, gently rubbing his thumb to ease his nerves.

As Tony and Peter arrive at Schaarschmidts, the elegant facade of the restaurant bathed in soft golden light greets them. Tony offers Peter his arm, and they walk together, their steps synchronized with a shared sense of anticipation.

The waiter greets them warmly as they enter, leading them to a secluded table adorned with flickering candlelight and a bouquet of roses. Peter's eyes widen in awe at the romantic setting, his heart pounding with excitement.

"This is amazing, Tony," Peter whispers, his voice filled with wonder. Tony smiles, his gaze filled with affection as he pulls out a chair for Peter.

"Only the best for you, Pete."

As they settle into their seats, their conversation flows effortlessly, laughter punctuating the air as they reminisce about the past year and dream about the future.

Midway through their meal, Tony's demeanor shifts slightly, his expression becoming more serious. He reaches into his pocket, fingers closing around the small velvet box hidden within. "Peter," Tony begins, his voice soft but determined.

Peter can hear how his heartbeat increases. Peter furrows his brows and tenses up.

“I’m so glad to have you in my life. You’ve changed me for the better, seriously. You’re incredibly special, kind and generous, so different from me, but I see myself in you in so many different ways, kid. I told you a year ago, you were it for me, and I’m serious. I don’t want anyone else but you, and I hope the feelings mutual.” Tony laughs out.

Peter’s eyes widen in surprise as Tony stands and gets down on one knee beside the table. The almost empty restaurant going quiet as they observe the display of love.

Tony takes the ring out his pocket and opens the box. If you looked closely, it had the same blue glow that Tony’s arc reactor gave off. Peter had stated one day that if he could carry that technology with him everywhere, he would.

Holding the ring up, Tony speaks as Peter is already tearing up.

“I know you might want to wait until you graduate college next year, but I’ll wait. As long as you want. So, Peter Parker, will you do me the honor of putting up with me for as long as you can handle?” Tony breathes out, feeling tears threaten his eyes. Peter’s just a waterfall at this point.

Peter covers his mouth with his palm for a second before nodding so fast he might get whiplash.

“T-Tony, Oh my g-god. Yes! Yes!” Peter replies loudly, perhaps too loud.

Tony sniffles and shoots up, tackling his boy into a kiss. Peter presses his lips back tenderly. It’s a soft and lingering kiss, filled with passion and most likely, the promise of forever.

His arms wrap around Peter’s waist, pulling him closer. Their lips seem to move at the right pace, enveloping each other.

Peter leans back from the kiss first, gazing into Tony’s eyes with a goofy smile, “I want to be with you forever. I love you so much, Tony.”

Tony tilts his head as he feels a tear drop. Tony smiles softly, filled with nothing but love as he responds, “I love you so much more.”

“Let’s get out of here, please?” Peter asks.

When they arrive back to the hotel room, Tony doesn’t have time to shut the door behind him, because as soon as they enter, Peter is pressing him against it and taking his lips into a deep kiss.

Tony moans into the kiss and kisses back, slipping his tongue through the passage. Tony slides a free hand to Peter’s curls, holding the back of his head as he devours his mouth.

Peter is quickly removing his clothes as he kisses back with intent. Tony steps back from the kiss, not without a protest from Peter and removes his shoes and suit jacket. He drags Peter over to the bed, instantly attacking his neck with sucks and kisses, helping Peter undress with unbuttoning his shirt.

Laying Peter down on the bed, he kisses his way down his body, sucking a hickey above his waistline. Peter moans at the sensation of Tony’s goatee against his skin and hitches up his hips to get more.

Tony pushes his hips down gently and grins, “Calm down, baby. I’ll take care of you.” Tony says and unzips Peter’s trousers, wasting no time.

Peter helps Tony by kicking his pants off, and slightly lifting his legs.

“I opened myself up for you.” Peter says while blushing. Tony groans at imagining the sight of his boy preparing himself just for him.

Tony kisses Peter’s smooth thigh that’s next to his head, trailing them up to the place Peter wants his mouth the most. Tony places a ghosting kiss to his length and Peter whimpers at the very light touch.

He doesn't waste anymore time, taking the tip into his mouth. Peter gasps at the feeling of the wet heat that he loves so much and moves his hips up. Tony moans, moving his head down slowly, swallowing Peter inch by inch.

Peter moans in pleasure and reaches a hand out to Tony's head, threading his fingers through his soft, short hair.

"Oh- T-Tony!" He whimpers.

Tony bobs his head faster, and Peter moans louder, feeling himself come close almost immediately.

Tony continues with his movements, rubbing his thumb against Peter’s thigh in a soothing manner, removing it and running his hand over Peter’s tight balls. Making him tipple over to the edge.

“Oh-Fuck! Tony, I-I’m gonna—“ Peter doesn’t get to finish his sentence, he’s seeing stars behind his closed eyes and cumming into his lovers mouth.

Peter breathes heavily while Tony continues to suck him through his orgasm.

Tony swallows it all, sucking his length clean and pulling up. Tony leans up and observes Peter who already looks fucked out. He hasn’t even put his dick in him yet.

Tony leans over Peter and gives him a deep kiss to his slightly parted lips, Peter almost instantly kissing back.

Tony pulls back to lie his head close to Peter’s ear. He speaks huskily, “You taste so good. Still ok?” Peter quickly nods. He bites his lip and spreads his legs for easy access.

“Please, fuck me.” Peter says, his voice low and soft, wanting his lover to completely fill him up.

Tony smiles and kisses his flushed cheek. He reaches over and grabs the bottle of lube he put out before they left and coats his length with the substance.

He positions his tip for the pink hole, gently pushing in. Even with prep, Peter is always tight. He pauses, waiting for him to adjust, then slowly pushes in the rest of the way, bottoming out inside the tight and warm heat.

"Tony..." Peter moans softly, his eyelids fluttering as he adjusts to the stretch, loving the feeling. He could never get enough of this.

Tony begins to slightly move his hips. “How does it feel, baby?”

“It’s so good…please move.” Peter whimpers, tangling a hand into the bed comforter.

Tony smiles and begins moving his hips, thrusting in and out slowly. Peter wraps his legs around Tony's waist, pulling him closer.

Tony's movements grow more confident, and his thrusts become harder and deeper.

Peter moans, his fingers grasping at the sheets.

"Fuck, you feel amazing." Tony groans, his voice husky with desire.

Peter gasps, his eyes wide with arousal and pleasure.

"F-faster, Tony, please." He whimpers.

Tony quickens his pace, his movements becoming more erratic as his release builds.

Peter's back arches as Tony hits his prostate, his body shuddering with pleasure.

"Right there!"

Tony aims for that spot again and again, hitting it every time. Peter cries out, his eyes screwed shut as he writhes in pleasure.

"Oh god, I'm so close." Peter moans, his body trembling as his orgasm builds. Tony increases the pace, his hips slapping against Peter's ass.

Peter clenches around Tony's cock, and his body shakes with the intensity of his release, releasing short spurts of cum out of his again-hardened cock.

“Tony!”

Tony groans, feeling his own release take over. He cums into the tight warmth and slows his thrusts as he pushes himself through it.

He collapses beside Peter, both of them breathing heavily.

Tony looks over to Peter, who’s sliding over to lay on his fiancés chest. Tony leans, to lay a kiss on his slightly sweaty forehead. “I love you. You’re the best person I’ve ever known, Pete.” Tony whispers into his curls, never thinking his love for his protege would take off. And now look where they are.

Peter lifts his head up and smiles softly, “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Tony. I love you too.”

If they spent the rest of their night fucking and making love like animals in mating season, that was entirely up to them.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

It Had To Be You - Peter (Noir) Parker X Female Reader

Title: It Had To Be You

Peter (Noir) Parker X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Aunt May (Mentioned), Peter B. Parker, Gwen, Miles (Mentioned), Miguel (Mentioned), and a random old man (Mentioned)

WC: 3,963

Warnings: Post Into The Spiderverse, Post Across The Spiderverse, Pre Beyond The Spiderverse, typical Spider-Man canon violence briefly mentioned, domestic as hell, brief mention to injuries, teasing, banter, flirting, crying, Nazis mentioned very briefly, sad goodbyes, shattered glass briefly mentioned (nothing bad), spiders, death mentioned, spider bites mentioned, angst, and fluff

You were humming to a song that was playing from your phone speaker, shaking your hips side to side with the beat as you stirred the soup on the stove. Today was a good day. You woke up on the right side of the bed - cuddled up next to the love of your life - and took a shower before starting to make soup for lunch. This was a typical Saturday for you and your long-time boyfriend. You had spent the entire morning watching Netflix with him, lounging around, and doing nothing at all; minus getting up to make Egg Creams, cook up a snack, etcetera. 

Two arms slowly wrapped around your waist from behind, a stubbly face dipping down to nuzzle into your neck; making you giggle a little. You felt the cool rim of his glasses brush against you, little wisps of his hair tickling your cheek. You switched the stirring spoon into your other hand, now freeing your more dominant hand to raise and slide into his hair, fingers combing through his soft, dark locks. "Afternoon, handsome," You whispered, leaning back into his embrace. You turned slightly so that you could see his face; your lips brushing against his forehead. He pulled away to smile softly at you, his circle glasses slightly askew on his face before giving you a kiss on the lips. You returned it warmly, feeling the corners of your mouth tugging up into a grin. The kitchen was quiet except for the sounds of your music echoing throughout the room. Pulling back, you looked up at Peter, unable to stop the smile on your face as you just looked at him. He stole your breath away, every time, every day. From his strong jawline, the little dimples on the corners of his cheeks, the little wrinkles near his eyes... His hair was ruffled and messy from sleep; adorable. The way his skin glowed golden in the sunlight pouring in from the large windows on either side of the kitchen, illuminated his handsome features; breathtaking. Even the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at you, always lighting up like Christmas lights. That gorgeous smile... You couldn't look away. Your eyes were drawn to his. "Did you sleep well, Pete? Good nap?" You asked, voice soft as you glanced at the soup, returning to stirring it so it wouldn't burn. 

"Best nap," He muttered, his own voice deep and a bit gruff, still trying to wake himself up fully. He gave you another kiss on the lips before turning you around in his arms to face the stove once more. His arms lay secured around your waist, his chin gently resting upon your head as he watched you cook the soup. "What have you been up to, doll?" He asked, pressing a light kiss onto the top of your head. Your hair smelled faintly of vanilla and pomegranate from the shampoo you used this morning. 

"I’ve been doing some reading." You sighed happily, smiling over your shoulder at him. He could tell by how relaxed you were. "As always," You let out a small laugh, making Peter smile. "Oh! Could you taste-test this for me, please? I don't know if I should add more basil or not..." You asked the man, turning slightly in his hold to look up at him.

Reluctantly letting you go, Peter nodded as you turned and scooped up a bit of the warm soup on the wooden spoon. Softly blowing on it, you raised the spoon up to Peter's mouth, who obediently opened his mouth and let you feed him; your hand coming up under his chin to make sure nothing fell. The sweet, creamy taste of mushroom filled Peter's senses, making him hum as he closed his eyes happily. When he finally swallowed, he smiled down at you, watching as you stared up at him expectantly.

"So..?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"It's perfect, Y/N." He chuckled quietly, making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

You looked down at the soup on the stove, turning the dial to 'warm,' "It doesn't need anything?" You asked, turning back to look up at Peter who nodded. "Are you sure?"

"I am absolutely sure, doll, the soup tastes phenomenal." You looked up at him again, a flush coming to your cheeks, causing him to lean down to press a soft kiss to your burning cheek. "And it smells delicious as well," He added, making you smile.

"Well," You began, biting your bottom lip briefly as you gestured to the soap with a smirk, "Get a bowl before I eat it all then."

~~~

Sitting on the couch, you leaned your head against Peter's shoulder, watching some movie that you both were interested in. His arm draped loosely around your shoulders, holding you close to him. His free hand in his lap, he held onto a Rubik's Cube, half-finished; fiddling with it. Peter, normally, would've had his full attention on the TV screen, but every once in a while, he found his gaze being drawn to you. You were such a beautiful person. You were kind and gentle, thoughtful, and creative. There wasn't a single thing Peter didn't love about you. Peter loved you. You were his everything. 

Five years ago, Peter was just minding his own business, working on taking down a corrupt politician, when he felt an odd sensation flow through him. His Spider-Senses activated, alerting him to danger, and that's when a very familiar portal popped up in his office, sucking him in. 

He remembered falling, a searing pain coursing through him before he fell flat on his face in a rose garden. He didn't know how long he was out for, but when he opened his eyes, he groaned and sat up. Looking around, he found himself in a small yard, surrounded by flowers - slightly smashed from his landing - in what seemed to be the backyard of a small home. It reminded him a lot of Aunt May's. He finally realized that he must have jumped universes again. Since, unlike his world, he was seeing in all colors. No more grayscale. And though he was still having a bit of trouble recognizing most colors, he knew that the roses that he fell on were indeed the color red.

That's when you appeared, like an angel, immediately coming to the mysterious man's aid. You seemed not to question his attire, why he was in your backyard, nor his pale, grayscale face when you cleaned up a small rose thorn scratch on his cheek. From that moment, Peter knew that he was a goner. He was confused as to where he was, who you were, and why you were so calm and not scared by him; a man in a dark trenchcoat and fedora. He had just fallen into your backyard for crying out loud... How were you so calm?

Peter didn't have to wait long to get the answers to his questions. You answered everything. He was in New York, Queens, in your home, in the year 2023. You told him your name, which Peter repeated a few times in his head, in awe of you. That's when you asked Peter who he was, and he answered honestly. He was Peter Parker. He was Spider-Man. A small, sad smile had fallen upon your lips, as you listened to Peter explain his side of things; alternate dimensions, other Spider-Men and Women, villains, portals, everything. You listened to every word. 

And that was the start of your friendship and later relationship.

Over time, Peter lost the urge to try and find a way back to his dimension. He had thought, just like last time, that his atoms would combust, but nothing happened. He was feeling fine physically and never glitched or combusted in the following days and even weeks to come. In the beginning, in the first few weeks, Peter tried all he could to find a way back, but nothing seemed to be working. No amount of books, research, or snooping around Oscorp and Alchemax helped. The misery that had befallen Peter was unbearable. He didn't want to give up, but there seemed to have been no way for him to get home. Peter had a rain cloud over his head, but you were the sunshine that broke through it and brought him back to life. You were the one who kept him going. You encouraged him to keep trying, to keep searching. You knew that he would find a way home. 

But weeks turned into months, and months into years. And Peter forgot about his life in his universe once he fell in love with you. He had crippled his emotions for so long that he had almost forgotten how great it felt to be in love. And though he loved his universe, he loved you so much more. So, Peter made the choice to stay with you and had been staying with you for the past five years. And everything was like a dream.

~~~

"Peter, honey, are you alright?" You asked, snapping Peter out of his memories and daydreams, his eyes still on you.

Peter blinked, dropping his Rubik's Cube on his lap. He raised his hand to press it against his lips as he turned his head and cleared his throat. His pale cheeks tinted a deeper shade of light gray, which made you smile; that shade of gray had become one of your favorites. "I'm alright, doll," He answered, turning to face you once more, giving you a small, sheepish smile. "Just thinking."

“That’s dangerous,” You joked playfully, - earning an eye roll and grin - leaning towards him, you placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "About what?" You asked, admiring the man beside you.

Peter sighed softly, "The night we met," He answered, looking down at the Rubik's Cube. "And I was just thinking about you in general."

Your smile grew wider. Peter was so sweet to you. Sometimes you wondered if he even knew how sweet he really was. Sure, he said sweet things all the time, but sometimes he seemed too good to be true. How was he even real? Raising your hand, you gently slid the bridge of Peter's glasses up his nose with a finger, "I love you, Peter Parker," You whispered, leaning over until your foreheads touched. "More than anything in the world." Your eyes fluttered lightly as you waited for a response from him.

"I love you more, darling," Peter murmured back, resting his free hand on your waist as he pulled you closer. The sound of a soft knock interrupted the couple's moment, and you broke apart, both confused. "Were you expecting someone?" Peter asked, and you shook your head with a small, confused frown.

"No, I wasn't... You?" Peter shook his head slowly, rising from the couch and walking to the door, opening it cautiously; on high alert. Standing outside the doorway were none other than Peter B. Parker and Gwen.

Peter's eyes widened as he quickly let them in and shut the door, and you soon came around the corner, stopping at the sight of Spider-Man and the Spider-Woman. With a small frown, you moved your gaze from the two newcomers to your Peter. Fiddling with the way-too-big sleeves of Peter's gray, cable-knit sweater you wore, you stood next to Peter.

The two newcomers that you had assumed were Peter B. and Gwen, from the many stories your Peter would tell you about the fight with Doc Ock and Kingpin. They were staring at you with wide, shocked expressions on their faces.

"Um... Hello," You greeted awkwardly, waving your hand in the air briefly. "You must be Peter B. and Gwen." You continued, moving your glance to each of them respectively.

Peter B. then took a step forward, his eyebrows narrowed, "Sorry, but who are you?"

Your Peter slowly wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side, "This is Y/N, my girl... After I landed here a few years ago, she took me in and tried to help me get back to my own dimension..." He answered, his gaze never leaving yours as he spoke.

Peter B’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly, “A few years? How long have you been here?”

“And without glitching?” Gwen added, your eyes anxiously glanced from your Peter to the others, very confused.

"A little over five years," Your Peter answered, your arm coming up to wrap around his waist, fingers clutching onto the side of his black turtleneck sweater. “And that is still something that I have not quite put my finger on…” Peter muttered to himself, his eyes behind his circle frame narrowing slightly in thought.

Their jaws dropped, "Five years!?" Peter B. exclaimed, and you and your Peter nodded. “Time must work differently here…”

Gwen shook her head before she took a step forward, "We’ve searched for you in your dimension,” She spoke, lowering her white hood, “But you weren’t there… It took us a while to find you…”

“But we’ve found you, that’s all that matters.” Peter slightly interrupted, a look of determination on his face, “We need your help. Miles needs our help.”

You noticed your Peter’s expression darkened slightly, “What happened?”

You listened as Peter B. and Gwen expanded everything that had happened - the Spider Society, Miguel, Canon events, and so on - your confusion over everything seemed to lessen a bit; even when they brought up the clear time difference between your Earth-081962 and almost every other Earth dimension; which still confused you as to why your dimension was five years ahead of everyone else's.

“And with this device, we can help Miles,” Gwen gestured to the watch-looking object on her wrist, “And after, we can get you back to your own dimension.” Her voice held so much hope, you swallowed thickly as your mind raced. 

Your Peter looked down at you, feeling your hand around him tighten slightly, but you didn't look up from the creme carpet. Peter was conflicted. The Peter a couple of years prior would've jumped at the opportunity to go back to his own universe, but now... Now all he wanted to do was stay here. With you. He couldn't bear the idea of being separated from you. "I need to speak with Y/N alone for a moment." He spoke up before leading you down the hall and into your shared room. "I'm not going to leave you." He spoke with conviction once you both entered the room, only for you to shake your head.

Quickly taking his hands in yours, you shook your head, "No, no, Pete, honey... You have to do this-"

He cut you off, shaking his head violently, "No, Y/N, please... I can't lose you." Peter pleaded, his eyes begging you not to make this decision for him. It broke your heart that he was willing to give up his chance to go home, to return to his own time. “I’ll come back to you after I help Miles.”

"Peter, you can go home! Back to your PI job and saving people from stupid Nazis." You tried to reason with him, tears starting to gather in your eyes, Peter's hands turning to hold yours, squeezing gently. “You can go home.”

"You're my home!" Peter countered, causing your breath to catch in your throat, tears streamed down your face. "You're my home, darling," His voice broke, but he held his ground. "I can't live without you." His eyes softened, but he remained firm. "Please, don't do this."

You let out a small sob, your shoulders shaking lightly. "Please... Peter..."

"I love you." With those words, Peter released your hands, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you tightly against his chest. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, gripping onto the back of his turtleneck sweater. For a minute, neither of you moved. Neither of you dared to move an inch. Neither of you dared to breathe. You both just held on tight.

You pushed your face into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you rubbed your cheek on the soft material of his sweater, "I love you more," You breathed out after a moment, sniffling, "But you have to go home after you save Miles."

"Y/N, darling-"

Pulling back, you moved your hands up to cup his stubbly cheeks, staring into those dark eyes that you loved so much. "I need you to go home." You stated, letting your thumbs brush away the stray tears on his cheeks; hating the words that were coming out of your mouth. "I've loved every single moment that I've got with you, Peter, but... But I need you to go home, honey."

Peter closed his eyes, letting his head drop to rest against yours. He let out a deep sigh before suddenly dipping his head down to capture your lips with his own. You gasped softly, returning his kiss, tears began to roll down your cheeks, mixing with the tears that were falling from Peter's. The kiss was gentle yet desperate, and it left both of you breathless, pulling away slowly. His lips pulled away reluctantly, leaving your lips feeling cold.

"Go save Miles, Peter." You muttered, pressing your forehead against his. Peter nodded slowly, tears filling his eyes. Giving you one last kiss, he slowly backed away from you, unable to break his gaze from you. "I'll see you some other time." You finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

At the door, Peter paused, bracing himself on the doorframe, "At least that's better than 'goodbye.'" He tried to joke, smiling weakly at you, but you could see how broken he looked, and you felt the same. He took a deep, shaky breath. "See you later, doll."

And then he was gone. You stood there, staring at the doorway, hearing muffled voices, the front door shutting... And then silence. Walking backward, you plopped down on the bed, staring at the wall. You took in a deep breath, letting a shaky breath out afterward. Your chest seemed to tighten, you felt as if your heart had stopped beating. You placed your hand over your chest, rubbing it gently. Closing your eyes and taking another deep breath, you focused on the feeling of your hand on your beating heart, but it all came crashing down. Tears erupted from your eyes, pouring down your face like a waterfall.

~~~

Walking down the street, you shuffled past the other busy people, either going home or heading to their late shift at work. You were heading home from yours. You had just recently been hired at some research facility - Alchemax - as an accounting assistant. You did want to try for a more scientific job, but they weren't hiring for that sort of position, overall, it was definitely keeping you busy. And you had to keep yourself busy, so you didn't think about Peter. It had been around six months since Peter left for his dimension, and you'd lost count of how many times you'd thought about him. How many times have you thought about him when you woke up at night, half your mind thinking he was right there beside you in bed? Every time you subconsciously began to make Egg Creams, only to realize you had no one to share them with. And every time you heard a song on the radio that reminded you of him, you felt yourself unwilling to finish the day's chores. Every hour that went by felt like an eternity.

But your job was good, paid well, better than the last one that you had when Peter was with you. You were pretty curious about the research the facility was even doing, they were secretive about it. You didn't ask questions, you followed orders and made sure the numbers were all lining up correctly, but you still wondered. However, before your mind could theorize whatever could be happening, you felt someone run into you. 

You fell to the concrete sidewalk with a small 'oof,' looking up to see an old man in front of you; also on the sidewalk. Getting over the initial shock, you looked around, seeing what looked to be shards of glass on the ground around you and the man. Before you could say anything, the man went into a panic, looking around the ground frantically. Suddenly, he got to his feet, running off. 

You let out a huff, pushing yourself to your feet and brushing off your legs. Thankfully, no glass had harmed you. Letting out a sigh from your nose, you headed back down the sidewalk, ignoring the burning sensation on the back of your head from the slight embarrassment you had gone through. 

Once you finally made it home, you quickly got inside and shut the door; locking it. Toeing off your shoes, you kicked them to the side before dragging your feet to your bedroom to get out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable; exhausted after the long day. Tossing your bag on the bed, you riffled through your closet, finding a pair of gray sweats - that were definitely not Peter’s - and fuzzy socks. Trying to find a comfy top that you felt like wearing, your hand paused on one. The gray, cable-knit sweater, one of Peter's sweaters; your favorite one. Without a second thought, you pulled it over your head, your hair becoming a bit frazzled in the process. Pulling the collar up, you took in a deep breath, only to frown. It had already lost his scent. The accords of lavender and mandarin, the hint of sandalwood.

Walking back into your bed, you sat down, still clutching the sweater tightly in your hands. Looking down at the piece of clothing, you sighed. You loved the sweater. It was way too big for you, the sleeves passing your fingers by more than an inch, the hem reaching around mid-thigh. But you couldn't stop missing the smell of Peter's cologne that was embedded in the fabric. And you’d ever smell it again. 

You laid back on your bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly to your chest. Shutting your eyes, you let out a sigh. You were about to get up and make yourself some dinner, but then you paused. Frozen, you felt something small crawling on you. Immediately, you jumped up, feeling the tickling crawling start to wander down your arm. Quickly, scrambling to pull up your sleeve, you watched as a small, red spider crawled up your arm and onto your hand, and before you could do anything, you felt a sharp sting. 

You yelped in pain, hitting the spider off of you, and pulling your hand to your chest. Staring intently at the small spider on the ground, it was all curled up; dead. Letting out a deep breath, you jiggled around a bit, creeped out from the feeling of the spider running along your body. Sitting back down, you planned to take care of the spider after checking your hand. Pulling your arm back, you looked at your hand. Raising it up in front of you, you winced slightly at the sight of a large red bump on the middle of the back of your hand. It looked terrible…

Feeling a bit odd, you blinked repeatedly. Bringing another hand up, you held your head as a huge migraine began to form behind your eyes; your mind foggy. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to calm down. Shaking your head lightly, you squeezed your eyes shut, a ringing starting to sound in your ears. You could feel the headache growing, burning. Then you opened your eyes, suddenly becoming very aware of everything around you. And then... Everything stopped. 

[witchywillowsblog]

❣︎ 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝑂𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆 ❣︎ [𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑/ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄??]

A dbf!Joel x f!reader fanfic based on the song ‘memories’ by Conan Gray.

Warnings: big age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel is 52), angsty if you squint, tension, eventual smut (none in this part, sorry), parent death, dbf!Joel, f!reader

Can’t think of anymore, If there is though, please let me know :)

(𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝, 𝚢𝚎𝚊. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! :])

It was almost physically painful how infatuated you had become over a man who barely expresses emotions and who is, of course, your dads best friend. You were 20 when your dad had met Joel through Tommy who your dad was already comfortably acquainted with. Your now 24, Joel is 52; it’s beautifully risky how big the age gap is, and some sick part of you enjoys the idea, the chase, the way it feels so very forbidden.

One small (or rather big) problem, Joel is reluctant and barely willing to show if he even shares the same flutter within his chest every time there’s a fleeting glance between you two. One where you can see a different glow within his eyes, one which sometimes lingers longer than the norm, scanning you entirely from bottom to top. Sure, you’ve had a few people in your life who have come close to stealing your heart, but when they say something along the lines of “I would love to take this further” or something like that, your heart sinks. As if there’s already a space that’s been taken over by a man with broad shoulders, calloused hands and ruffled hair that sits gorgeously on his forehead. I don’t know, maybe the man who is your dads best friend for Pete sake. Your heart also sinks because, you want to so badly let go, to move on. It feels almost impossible though, you’ll finally get to a point where the person sitting across from you is looking at you with promising eyes and lovely words and you think to yourself “maybe I can finally find peace and happiness with this person”. Then you go visit your dad to watch a movie and have a few drinks and there he is, sitting on the sofa, legs slightly spread, arm resting on the top of the couch, few top buttons of his shirt not done up. And the air is completely knocked out of your lungs, an almost crushing wave collapsing down onto you. That person from before doesn’t look like peace and happiness, Joel does.

Your standing in the threshold of the front door almost lost in a trance, staring helplessly at the back of Joel’s head, eyeing his shoulders. Your interrupted though, as your dad enthusiastically has his arms raised, one holding a bottle of unopened beer, walking towards you, half yelling in a sing song.

“There’s my favourite girl! Helloo”

His definitely halfway between tipsy and drunk.

Your swallowed by a tight embrace, your arms awkwardly hugging one of his arms back as your other hand is occupied by your bag.

“Heyy”, you reply with a grin trying to hide the fact that you were gawking at, once again, your dad’s best friend. Speaking of, you glance towards Joel and almost immediately turn away as he was already looking back.

“Now my, my, you’re all dolled up. What guy bored you enough this time to come here again?” Your dad shares jokingly. You can only giggle in response, scratching the back of your neck; you know full well why you’re here at your dads place again after a date instead of going home with said date and making out, probably maybe get bent over if your lucky enough. Maybe, if your so lucky, Joel could bend you over his own thigh right now with the way his shameless man spreading, the fabric of his jeans tight against his-

“Mm, who wouldn’t want to come here for fun? We are most definitely more entertaining than some dude talkin off y’ear all evening.” Joel replied, turned towards you two from the sofa, staring especially intently at you, taking a swig of his drink while grinning as he notices you staring back. It felt all too flirty.

“That-“ your dad dramatically points towards Joel. “-is correct. Now, what film would my baby like to watch.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, smiling ear to ear down at you. You let out a breathy chuckle as both you and your dad walk into the living room. You can’t help but greatly appreciate these moments; your dad always impossibly happy to see you walk through his door every time no matter how many times you’re here, the glow of the tv in the dim lit room, the laughter and the jokes thrown between your dad and Joel. It’s warm, this feeling. These past few years have somehow been the best and yet worst years of your life. Your mum had passed away in a car accident only a year before your dad had met Joel. In some strange way, he had saved the both of you. Yes, you may have spent nights in your bed at shockingly late hour’s crying because the very presence of a man that you’re on the brink of falling in love with is unattainable and makes you feel insane, you also would never let go of this. Of him.

“Uhh, I think I’ll have a drink first and think about it.” You answer as you take a sit at the other end of the sofa, a distance away from Joel. He briefly follows your movements, turning his head subtly to look you up and down before taking another drink of, your guessing, beer.

“Of course, of course. I’ll go get that for ya.” Your dad smiles before turning a corner into the kitchen.

It’s just you and joel now.

Joel sniffs, rubbing his face, leaning further back into the sofa and adjusting himself. You should of ignored it. Could of. But you were intensely focused on the action, swiftly glancing to look at him, pursing your lips and inhaling.

“So, what’s the name of this guy?”, Joel casually asks, with that same grin that makes your heart momentarily stammer. You pause almost not wanting to relive the heartbreak on the poor guys face as you told him you had to exscuse yourself as you gave him fake promises.

𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘑𝘰𝘦𝘭．

Is what you think to yourself. What you wanna say. But instead you opt for the easy small talk.

“Mm, not an important one.”, playfully answering.

“Hm.” Joel hums in understanding and agreement. “Wanna tell me what went wrong this time or?”

You lean back and let out a frustrated sigh. “I just…” your eyes scan the room as you try to form an answer in your mind. “I feel like, like I would be settling.” You turn to look at joel saying the last words. His expression is calm and focused, he’s listening to you. “Settling because they don’t entirely meet my expectations but I would be happy enough that I’m comfortable. If that makes any sense.” You gesture your hands and roll your eyes listening to your own words and feeling stupid. Joel moves his arm off from the top of the sofa, placing it on his thigh, tilting his head, eyes attentive.

“No, I understand you. Why do you think I’ve stayed alone all these years”, he lets out a breathy, half chuckle. Smiling, you tilt your head towards him.

“Well that’s not entirely true, you have me and my dad” you reply in an almost playful tone. Joel let’s out the same hum he usually does, normally meaning he’s agreeing.

“You need someone that feels more like home almost…”, Joel speaks, looking in front of him at nothing, in thought. “Familiar..”

You furrow you brows in confusion at this, not sure what he’s implying. Or you do and you’re just trying to not think too hard about it…about him. Imagining a life with him, imagining waking up under the soft light of the sun trickling through the open gaps in the curtains, Joel’s arms wrapped securely around you, bringing you a comfort that your dates could never even get close to.

𝙂𝙤𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙖𝙙.

You almost don’t notice, but a small grin starts to appear on Joel’s lips. He barely opens his mouth to speak, before your dad comes back from the kitchen with three cans of drinks in his raised hands, a smile plastered across his face.

“Ahhh, the drinks are finally here!” Your dad, more than enthusiastically says. He tosses a can to you and Joel, Joel of course catches it like it’s nothing. You pay too much attention to small things like that, observe him like his a painting in a gallery.

[manchurian-barnes]

Coffee Shop Blues and Red FINALE (Peter Parker x F! Reader)

Post NWH - Collage Peter!

Busy nights filled with college course work, leads to late nights in a crappy coffee shop, the only perk? Friendly neighbourhood company.

To keep updated heres the Series Masterlist and for my other works, you can find My Masterlist Here!

Two hours. You'd been waiting two hours...and honestly it was past the point of freaking out. You were angry, and you felt guilty over feeling angry, and then you felt worried and guilty that you hadn't felt guilty first off. Two hours, sitting in a silky dress watching the news for updates as your date, quite literally was off saving the world.

"C'mon man!" Peter yelled as he jumped to another building, scorpion jumping after him and slamming his stinger into the bricks making them glow with his green poison. "Let me finish this then araña-" The psycho called back at him. Peter stood on the edge of the building with his hands on his hips. "Now, why would i let you poison me and the people of NYC Gargon?! Logic please-" He sassed back as he webbed the stinger and tried to pull it off. "If you just go to the raft tonight without a fight-maybe you make parole!" He yelped as the scorpion grabbed him by the leg and threw him into the middle of the street. He literally dented the middle of the road. Letting out a pained yell of "IVE GOT A DATE MAN!"

It was midnight when you heard a thud on your window. Forcing it up with a gasp when you saw the state of him. "Get in here-Oh my god Peter you should be at a hospital-" You scolded. He didn't respond he just shushed you. He pulled a battered flower from behind him. "S-Sorry, I missed our date...I have a good reason-" "Scorpion was trying to poison the population of the city with hallucinogenic?" You answered for him. Holding his arms and guiding him to lay on the couch. Hooking the side of his mask and tugging it off. "Tell me what I need to do here Pete-" You begged him.

It took a while but eventually you got the hang of stitching him up, every gash on his chest and arms. Leaving him to get a hot flannel and clean off most of the blood. He looked to you, studying your face as your hand ran back and forth across his chest. "I bet you thought the first time you'd see me shirtless would be more exciting-" He coughed out a laugh. "Who said this isn't exciting?" You let out, voice flatter. He took note of that, "I swear I was on my way-" "I believe you..." He caught your wrist in his hands. "y/n this is sometimes the reality...gimme a day and I'll heal up nice-" "You think this is putting me off?" You laughed for a moment. Leaning down, looking into his eyes, free hand reaching up to push his hair back, eyes tracing his face, staying on his lips for a moment.

"You wanna sleep here?" You asked him. He shook his head, "Ill swing home-" "I have a bed-" "a spare?" He asked softly. "No, I was thinking we just share my bed...so that if you need me...you can y'know just nudge." You chuckled. He took in a sharp breath in a bed with you all night...how was this not playing out the way he wanted it to?!

It didn't take long for peter to fall asleep, however you stayed up, watching him, caressing the side of his face to settle any discomfort as he slept. You'd never seen him up so close...he couldn't sleep...peacefully...always seemed to stir unless your hand was on his chest, anchoring him down a bit. His heart beating as steadily as you figured it could given the circumstances of this evening.

When Peter finally woke up, he was dazed and mildly confused as to why you weren't beside him. "y/n? are you there? Y/n-" he paused when you came around the doorframe. "You snore." You stated with a small chuckle, walking to the bed and laying back down beside him. His hand went to the side of your face and he just stared into your eyes for a while and he smiled at you, making your heart want to burst. "Thank you…I will make it up to you…" He promised. Laughing at the way you rolled your eyes at it. You leaned against his hand, enough to turn to kiss his palm. Making Peter's heart burst a bit. "I want flowers and chocolates-" You teased, and he found enough strength to push himself up on one arm and lean down to you. "Anything you want…you got it." To punctuate he kissed your forehead and just lingered there. "You got a shitty first date huh?" He whispered…mad at himself honestly.

You gave him an old t-shirt to wear and he just used his suit around his waist as trousers. Spending the day with you, laying on the couch. You didn’t complain, not once about having to nurse him. You just did everything you could to make him comfortable. Ending up with your head on his shoulder. "So, where will we go, on this redo first date?" you asked him. He chuckled.

"I know this really good coffee shop."

End Of The Series! - Thanks to everyone who has followed and supported this series, hopefully you’ve enjoyed it enough to drop a follow to see when my next one comes out! if I ever decide to write more...

If you enjoyed this series and are curious to see more of my works you can find them on My Masterlist!

[thegigilwriter]

10 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, Drama, serious burns

10 | The Hard Deck 🍺

August 13, 2023

Penny

It was a bustling Friday night and Penny was wiping down the counter, when from the corner of her eye, Rooster had entered the vicinity clad in his usual Hawaiian shirt and swoon-evoking grin. She had anticipated the usual hollers that indicated his entrance, but what she didnʼt expect was the small woman whom his large hand was on the curve of her waist. She was beautiful: with smiling eyes, transcending wavy locks of mahogany hair, a glowing olive complexion, and a pleasant laugh. She had donned on a cute lacy eggshell-colored top, dark wash denim shorts, and knee high cowboy boots. Penny was amused as Rooster kissed her cheek in front of all his friends and held her hand.

She watched as this exuberant stranger light up the faces in front of her as they conversed. When Phoenix entered a few minutes later, she embraced this new girl so warmly, one would have thought they were friends for years. Penny slipped out her phone from her pocket and began texting her beau.

To: Pete ♥

Come down here, thereʼs something you might wanna see.

“So Lucy, what do you do?ˮ Javy ‘Coyoteʼ Machado asked her, learning on his billard pole. Bradley had gone to get their drinks from Penny, and Lucy was left in their company.

“Iʼm a marine biologist,ˮ she replied. “I work at Umi.ˮ

“That pretty building up the coast?ˮ Mickey ‘Fanboyʼ Garcia followed up, after a strike.

“The very one,ˮ Lucy smiled.

“Heard itʼs exclusive,ˮ Reuben ‘Paybackʼ Fitch remarked. “One of my friends applied there — real smart guy — he got denied though.ˮ

“It is competitive,ˮ Lucy hummed.

“Sheʼs being humble. Itʼs like the Top Gun of marine research centers,ˮ Nat chimed in, as she cupped Lucyʼs shoulder. “That makes Angel here one of us.ˮ

Lucy blushed.

“Thatʼs a pretty callsign,ˮ Javy smirked. “Did Rooster give you that?ˮ

“Rooster did what now?ˮ Jake had entered the conversation smoothly, meeting eyes with Lucy and throwing a wink in her direction.

“Itʼs you,ˮ Lucy narrowed her eyes.

“Well if it isnʼt my sendoff proxy,ˮ Jake smirked, popping a toothpick in his mouth. “Now what brings you here?ˮ

“You two know each other?ˮ Phoenix looked between them quizzically.

“Iʼd like to know that too actually,ˮ Bradley stepped in handing Lucy a beer and surrounding her shoulders with his arm.

“Hangman,ˮ he acknowledged. “You look... good.ˮ

“I am good Rooster, Iʼm very good, ˮ Jake chuckled, his gaze alternating between him and Lucy. “And it seems that so are you.ˮ

“Lucy here was kind enough to send me off the last time we met, Rooster thatʼs all…ˮ Jake chuckled. “Isnʼt that right darlinʼ?ˮ

“I take it you two know each other quite well?ˮ Lucy looked to Bradley.

“Hangman?ˮ Bradley took a swig of his beer. “He and I go way back.ˮ

“Lucy Mitchell, if youʼll allow me this one request, I am absolutely dying to know how you got into such good graces with his rascal that he lets you drive his Bronco,ˮ Jake drawled. “I swear, I have never seen a man so desperate for the end of a deployment like he was.ˮ

“Got lucky I guess,ˮ Lucy shrugged. “One day I was bumping into him by the docks, and here we are now.ˮ

“Such a sweet gal you have Bradshaw,ˮ Jake remarked. “Didnʼt think they were your type.ˮ

Phoenix suddenly looked alarmed, eyes darting quickly between Bradley and Jake as they stared each other down. To her surprise, Lucy was the one who spoke first.

“I like to think that Bradley doesnʼt have a ‘typeʼ per se, but with me? I think heʼs finally set some standards,ˮ Lucy said coolly. “Maybe you can use some so you wouldnʼt need a proxy sendoff next time?ˮ

Reuben spit out his beer in mid-chug, Javy guffawed, and Mickey was just rubbing it into Jake like salt into a wound. Nat was straight up laughing like a lunatic and Bradley was astounded — proud, but astounded.

“Best of luck to you Bradshaw,ˮ Jake sighed. “Sheʼs sweet and spicy.ˮ

“Have I ever told you, that youʼre amazing?ˮ Bradley whispered to the shell of her ear.

“Youʼve implied that several times, but Iʼd like to be rewarded.ˮ Lucy grinned cheekily.

“Whatever you want, baby.ˮ He replied to her quietly.

The night treaded on and Bradley and Nat eventually joined in the game of billiards. Bob, arriving a little later than expected, was later in deep conversation with Lucy about her the nature of her work and her research. Later, Jake challenged Lucy to a game of darts and he found that he had finally met his match — their competitive bout ending in a stalemate. Bradley watched Lucy among his friends as they laughed about something that Reuben had said. He smiled, just observing how well she adjusted into his kind of people. She looked right being with them. Being with her felt right.

“Your friends are really fun,ˮ she told him as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Thank you for bringing me here.ˮ

“Iʼm just glad you enjoyed yourself Angel,ˮ Bradley replied as he kissed her forehead sweetly. “Iʼm so happy you feel comfortable around my friends. Theyʼre good people...ˮ

“I mean… Jakeʼa kind of an asshole sometimes,ˮ he quickly added as Lucy giggled. “But youʼll get used to him.ˮ

“I donʼt know... I think heʼs just lonely,ˮ Lucy smiled. “I think he just needs someone, like I am to you.ˮ

“Only God can help him with that now,ˮ Bradley chuckled.

“Hey, do you want some water?ˮ She asked him. “Youʼre hitting it pretty hard... unless you want me to drive?ˮ

“Letʼs get one thing right Angel,ˮ Bradley grunted. “Youʼre my passenger princess as long as Iʼm here, okay?ˮ

“Okay,ˮ Lucy giggled.

“And yes,ˮ he said. “I would really like some water, thank you baby.ˮ

Lucy made a beeline for the bar and behind it, she asked the pretty woman with crow lines and a magnetic stare for Bradleyʼs glass of water and another bottle of beer for her. As the bartender set off to complete her request, Lucy felt someone occupy the empty seat she stood next to.

“Never seen you around here before,ˮ the stranger uttered, taking a sip from her glass. “Got a name?ˮ

As Lucy turned to reply, she beheld this beautiful woman with long jet-black hair curled like a princess with strikingly green eyes. Her makeup was flawless, her perfume confidently exuding, and her nails well-maintained. Even in khakis, one could guess that she must have a perfect body — one that even models envy.

“Lucy,ˮ she told her, still gaping at her ethereal appearance.

“Aisling Akerman,ˮ the woman nodded, eyes grazing Lucy from head-to-toe. “But my callsignʼs Nova.ˮ

“Itʼs nice to meet you Nova,ˮ Lucy smiled and thanked the bartender wordlessly as she set down her beer and water. Aisling eyed them before her gaze settled on Lucy.

“You came here with a boyfriend, Lucy?ˮ Aisling asked her.

“Yes,ˮ she replied. “Heʼs a pilot too. Uh... callsign... Rooster?ˮ

“Good olʼ Rooster,ˮ Aisling chuckled as she swirled the contents her glass around. “You know, if you hadnʼt mentioned him by name, I would have never known...ˮ

Lucy looked at her perplexedly. It didnʼt take too long until the gears clicked and a light bulb took its shine. From afar, Nat nudged Bradley as he was about to take his turn, forcing him to avert towards the direction Nat had pointed to him. Jake followed suit, and his eyes widened slightly. Bradley was just about to approach the bar counter until Jake stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“What the hell, Hangman?ˮ Bradley hissed.

“Thatʼs Nova, ainʼt it?ˮ Jake clarified. “Give them a minute... I have a really good feeling about this.ˮ

“Hangman,ˮ Bradley enunciated as patiently as he could. “I am not putting Lucy in harmʼs way for your entertainment. If you donʼt step aside right now I will not hesitate to beat the living shi—“

“Oh would you just calm down?!ˮ Jake hissed back. “Have some faith in your girl, Rooster. Sheʼs got some fight in her... I can tell...ˮ

“Girl to girl Lucy, youʼre not exactly Bradleyʼs type,ˮ Aisling drank again. “Take it from me, heʼll just fuck around with you for a while until he dumps you for the next hot piece of ass. Itʼll be good for a while — I mean they call him Rooster for a reason, if you catch my drift? But youʼre a nice little girl, youʼre cute, and Iʼm sure youʼd make a nice little wife someday. But not with this one babe — this oneʼs for the bad girls... besides donʼt you think heʼs a little out of your league?ˮ

“Nova, is it?ˮ Lucy chuckled, staring out into the crowd with a smile. “You know I find it quite ingenious that aviatorsʼ callsigns are a subtle reference to their own temperaments. So I can only wonder to what yours alludes to — is it the unprecedented brightness of a newborn star or its inevitable death into the dark abscesses of cold space?ˮ

Lucy looked straight into her eyes.

“I know women like you,ˮ Lucy told her softly. “You draw men in and lavish in their attention. But when it becomes too much, you cast them out and disappear — and when you decide that you need them you simply do it all over again just because you can. So donʼt be mistaken Nova, I donʼt fear women like you, I pity you — because behind that bold red lip, that smoky eye, and all your extensions is a little girl whoʼs too afraid to know what real love could look like for herself. And between you and me, I donʼt think Iʼm that little girl.ˮ

Aisling stared right back at her, dumbstruck. She blinked her eyes rapidly and swallowed deeply before setting her drink down slowly. Their eyes met briefly before Aisling casted her gaze down in defeat and sliding off her seat and heading towards the exit.

“No fucking way...ˮ Mickey gaped at the slumped shell of Aisling ‘Novaʼ Akerman leaving the Hard deck.

“For the first time in history ladies and gentlemen,ˮ Javy announced comically. “The Nova has been contained.ˮ

“Would you look at that,ˮ Nat sighed with crossed arms. “Roosterʼs scot-free.ˮ

“The lucky son-of-a-bitch,ˮ Jake laughed.

Bradley was simply without words as he watched Penny come up to Lucy from behind the bar.

“That,ˮ Penny chuckled. “Is the most well-articulated comeback I have ever heard in this vicinity. Whatʼs your name, kid?ˮ

“Lucy,ˮ she told the bartender.

“Iʼm Penny,ˮ she replied. Just then, Lucy got a glance of the sign that hung over the bar that had said: ‘Disrespect a lady, the navy, or put your cellphone on my bar you buy a round.ʼ

“Looks like a roundʼs on me, huh?ˮ Lucy said to her. “I seem to have violated two out of three of your terms.ˮ

“Donʼt worry about it,ˮ Penny dismissed. “That one had a long time coming, trust me. And donʼt you dare start feeling bad about it now...ˮ

“Itʼs the default setting I guess,ˮ she shrugged.

“Well un-default it,ˮ Penny said to her. “You can be nice and a badass at the same time. Just own it.ˮ

Lucy smiled.

“And about the things she said back there,ˮ Penny began to say. “Roosterʼs a good guy, and believe it or not... Iʼve never seen him introduce a girl to his friends.ˮ

“I know,ˮ she nodded. “Thank you. I just... I harbor a very... intense disdain towards people who use other people for their own gain, you know?ˮ

“You have just done me the biggest favor,ˮ Penny shook her head, chuckling.

“Whatʼs that? Surely there are worser guests than Nova?ˮ

“No,ˮ Penny sighed. “But as his godmother of sorts youʼve put my mind at ease.ˮ

Lucy looked to Bradley from across the bar and he smiled upon meeting her gaze.

“Go to him,ˮ she gestured with her chin. “Your tabʼs on me tonight, Lucy. Welcome to the Hard Deck.ˮ

Lucy thanked Penny before heading over towards Bradley and the others with his water and her bottle of beer. Bradley secured an arm around her once more, kissing the top of her head.

“Hey Lucy,ˮ Mickey called out. “My ex Aubrey lives just a couple of blocks down the street. You mind talking to her for me?ˮ

A round of laughs resounded.

“Jesus Luce,ˮ Nat remarked. “What the hell did you say to her? Iʼve never seen that girl walking the walk of shame, much less runninʼ out of here with her tail between her legs!ˮ

“I told you Rooster,ˮ Jake mused. “You could learn a thing or two from your girl.ˮ

“Youʼre just full of surprises tonight, arenʼt you.ˮ Bradley teased her.

“Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandusˮ Lucy whispered.

“What does that mean?” He asked her.

“Never tickle a sleeping dragon,” she giggled.

Bradley chuckled, marveling at this new side of his girlfriend— the smart-mouthed, impulsive, and fiery persona veiled beneath her angelic appearances.

“Yeah?ˮ He replied. “Well right now Iʼve got an itching to do something Iʼve been thinking of for a long time...ˮ

“So do it, Rooster.ˮ Lucy whispered impishly. Striking a chord with her seductively irresistible gaze and the mention of his callsign, Bradley led Lucy towards the piano on the other side of the Hard Deck, pulling the plug on the jukebox secretly along the way. He sat down, fiddling with the piano keys before pulling her towards a seat on his lap. Nat, Javy, Reuben, Mickey, Bob, and even Jake followed a few moments later as a crowd began to gather around them— knowing exactly what was about to go down.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain Too much love drives a man insane

You broke my will

But what a thrill

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!“

“I laughed at love 'coz I thought it was funny

You came along and you moved me, honey I've changed my mind

This love is fine

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!ˮ

“Kiss me, babbbyy!ˮ

Lucy placed a quick kiss on Bradleyʼs cheek and he shivered animatedly as she half-laughed and half-sang along.

“Mmmmh, it feels good!

Hold me, baby —

Well, I'm off to love you like a lover should.ˮ

Bradley, not missing a beat nor key, met his loverʼs eyes as they passionately sung together, with their heads banging and their eyes smiling to the heavens.

“Oh! You're fine, so kind

Got to tell this world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine!

I chew my nails and then I twiddle my thumbs

I'm real nervous, but it sure is fun

Come on, baby

You drive me crazy

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!ˮ

As Bradley played the solo with practiced perfection and with Lucy as his muse, a new straggler stumbled into the bar still donned in his flight suit with unruly hair and basked in sweat. Even so, Penny had come right around the bar and gave him a kiss on the cheek and treaded her fingers through his locks.

“Hey lover,ˮ he smiled at her.

“Mav,ˮ Penny sighed. “You operate what is arguably the fastest thing on the planet, when do you think youʼll ever be on time?ˮ

“But weʼve got all this time babe,ˮ Pete grinned boyishly, setting his hands on her waist. “Whatʼs a few minutes here on the ground?ˮ

“Alright, alright.ˮ Penny conceded as they walked behind the counter and offered him a bottle after unsealing the cap.

“If my memory serves me right, there was something you wanted to show me?ˮ Pete whispered. Penny gestured towards Bradley and the roaring crowd. It took a while, but what Pete eventually saw made his eyes widen slightly and a smile tighten his lips.

“Is that... a girl on Roosterʼs lap?ˮ

Penny nodded enthusiastically.

“Has he... ever done that before?ˮ Pete asked her once more.

“No,ˮ Penny shook her head. “I think heʼs quite serious about this one. Sheʼs a nice kid. And oh! You know Nova, right?ˮ

“Come on babe,ˮ Pete looked at her. “I donʼt forget everything...ˮ

“I literally found your toothbrush in your coffee mug this morning, but thatʼs besides the point,ˮ Penny wrinkled her nose. “Lucy here sent her out the door crying. Crying, babe.ˮ

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?ˮ

“Iʼm telling you Pete, this girl — sheʼs a keeper...ˮ

Pete and Penny watched as Bradley concluded ‘Great Balls of Fireʼ with an astounding round of applause and hearty cheers just like he did every time. Except at the end of, he had a girl on his lap to kiss. As the crowd dissipated from its high and returned to its simmering presence, Pete and Penny surged forward towards the couple and met them by the piano bench. Lucy was still snug on Bradleyʼs thigh when he looked over his shoulder to meet someone.

“Hey, Mav!ˮ She heard Bradley say.

“Rooster!ˮ A man had replied. Bradley led Lucy unto her feet as they stood to face another stranger of the night. Lucy straightened her blouse and when she had finally turned to introduce herself... she stopped— a blank expression eclipsing her visage.

His hazel eyes.

The shape of his smile.

The broadness of his shoulders. Even the way he stood.

It can’t be… Ford?

On the other side of the conversation, Penny was dumbfounded as she tugged at Peteʼs flight suit — shaking him awake from some sort of temporary possession. In Pete Mitchellʼs eyes there was something so utterly fond and familiar about the girl in front of him. He suddenly felt the humidity on his back, whiffed a sea breeze, and heard the vocalizations of a song far into his memory. It had been a long time since he had uttered that name, and still, it came naturally from his tongue as it did all those years ago...

“Tala?ˮ He croaked, staring at Lucy.

Bradley and Penny were visibly confused by their wordless interaction, eyes darting between Pete and Lucy as they seemed to exchange an odd conversation of sorts.

“N-No,ˮ Lucy finally replied after feeling as if she was just hit by a train. “Iʼm Lucy —“

“Iʼm sorry,ˮ Pete sighed. “You just really looked like someone I used to kn—“

“Tala? Tala Adlawan?ˮ

Pete stopped and slowly nodded at her words. Lucy paused staring at him in disbelief.

“Thatʼs my mom,ˮ she said quietly. “Do you know... her?ˮ

“From a really long time ago,ˮ Pete breathed out.

“Angel,ˮ Bradley said to her. “This is Maverick — my godfather. He was my dadʼs best friend. Mav, this is Lucy, my girlfriend — but it seems that youʼre already.... acquainted?ˮ

“Pete youʼre staring,ˮ Penny chuckled.

“Iʼm sorry,ˮ Pete laughed lightly, looking back at Lucy. “Itʼs just so uncanny. You look exactly like her...ˮ

“Who is Tala, babe?ˮ Penny asked him.

“An...old friend,ˮ Pete said. “I met her back at Atsugi back in ‘96.ˮ

Lucyʼs eyes widened slightly, a sudden itch occupying her hands.

“Well you guys should come over for dinner!ˮ Penny suggested. “Weʼd love to get to know you a little more, Lucy. Bradleyʼs never officially introduced a girl to us, you just have to come!ˮ

“I would love to,ˮ Lucy smiled. The night at the Hard Deck concluded on that note as Lucy and Penny exchanged numbers and Rooster bid farewell to a still awestruck Maverick.

Just as Lucy was headed towards the parking lot, Bradley pulled her with him to the beach. They left footprints on the sand as they walked beneath the light of the moon and the distant outdoor lamps of the Hard Deck. They settled in a peaceful spot on the sand, not too near or far from the water and overlooking the horizon. Lucy was caged between his thighs and embraced in his arms. He kissed her cheek.

“Youʼre a little quiet,ˮ Bradley remarked. “Are you okay?ˮ

“Y-Yeah,ˮ Lucy smiled at him reassuringly as she grazed his cheek. “Iʼm more than okay Bradley, thank you.ˮ

“Mav seemed to have caught you by surprise back there,ˮ Bradley chuckled.

“You have no idea,ˮ Lucy sighed.

It was all too uncanny.

Could it really just be a coincidence?

A beat.

“Tala,ˮ Bradley repeated. “Your mom has a pretty name. Does it mean something?ˮ

“Tala is the name of a goddess in Filipino mythology,ˮ Lucy recalled. “She governs the stars.ˮ

“Huh,ˮ he mused. “Your mom is named after a star goddess and yours happens to mean ‘light.ʼ So, the star goddess and her light. One canʼt exist without the other — very poetic.ˮ

“Iʼve never seen it that way,ˮ she replied. “Iʼve always seen it from a perspective that... I can never... possibly measure up to a goddess — the one who creates the light.ˮ

“Hey, look at me.ˮ She met his kind, honeyed eyes and beheld his seriously handsome face with soft curls.

“On our first date, you told me that you were a poet,ˮ Bradley said. “But Angel, you have no idea how much of a star you are.ˮ

Lucy swallowed, tears beginning to balance on the line of her eyes.

“Donʼt you see how much gravity over people you have? How bright and beautiful you are? Iʼm the poet now Angel, and you are the sun.ˮ

“Bradley,ˮ Lucy whispered as he pressed his lips against hers. She loved how solid he was beneath her fingers — she could feel the strength reserved in his muscles and the warmth beneath his skin. She loved his coarse locks, the indents of his scars, and even the smell of his sweat. If she could be physically absorbed into this man, she would. They broke apart for air, lips numb and eyes glistening.

“This whole night...ˮ Lucy laughed. “Is just so... crazy...ˮ

“Crazy good?ˮ Bradley chuckled as he held her face in his big hands.

“Crazy good,ˮ she repeated.

“Itʼs a bit crazy too you know,ˮ he says. “That Mav happens to know your mom.ˮ

“Maverick is his call sign, right? Whatʼs his real name?ˮ

“Pete Mitchell.ˮ

Lucy was in her pajamas and her hair was wrapped in a towel as she dug a weathered, old box from her closet and set it by the floor of her bed. She swept the dust on the lid with a damp towel and opened the container. From it, she retrieved an old leather jacket, a couple of band shirts, some polaroids, a walkman, and some keys. Lucy jingled them fondly, before tucking it away expertly in her palm. She also fished some old journals and a bunch of old music compositions. At the very bottom of the box she, found a red biscuit tin with Chinese labeling. After popping it open with a bread knife because of all the rust that had accumulated in its rim, Lucy flipped through some old letters that she had read some years ago and finally saw what she had been looking for. It was a pair of aviators and on its side, a subtle inscription of the initials P.M.

She skimmed through the letters once more.

Dear Danger,

Love, Star

I miss you.

I love you.

Iʼm pregnant.

RETURN SENDER

Dear Star,

Love, Danger

...meet again.

new mission...

In love with you.

Miss you like crazy.

And just when Lucyʼs head was spinning from all these revelations, a patch fell on her lap — slipping after she had untucked a fold from another old letter. She had not seen it the last time she opened the tin box. It was as if it chose to reveal itself only in this moment. It was navy blue-colored rectangle, embroidered with bright red thread. It depicted wings with an anchor, and beneath it, something had been inscribed:

PETE MITCHELL

“MAVERICKˮ

Well— cat’s out of the bag 👀 Looks like we have a series of interesting events ahead of us, dear readers. The story is just beginning! See you at 11 | Dinner at Penny’s!