#politics over. just deck em

[quin-ns]

The Bet (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Word count: 4.4K

Summary: butcher leaves you to keep an eye on soldier boy and things become interesting when a deck of cards gets involved

Tags: (18+), enemies to lovers (not exactly but kinda), canon-typical behavior, soldier boy being soldier boy (yes that’s a warning), humor/comedy, strip poker, bets, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, table sex, surprise ending

A/N: been wanting to write for a jensen character for a while and got inspired rewatching the boys. the character is such an ass but I can’t help but be into him lol

Cross-posted to ao3 • the boys masterlist • writing masterlist

“We’ll be back in a bit,” Butcher announced, stepping in the direction of the door. He looked between you and Hughie, as if still trying to decide which ‘we’ he wanted. “Come on, lad,” he addressed the latter. Hughie seemed relieved, eyeing Soldier Boy wearily before standing and joining Butcher.

Hughie gave you an apologetic look, while Butcher pointed at you and said, “you—keep an eye on him.” He pointed at the supe, as if it wasn’t obvious.

You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at Butcher. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“No,” Butcher replied casually, ushering Hughie out the door before he himself attempted to step out. You got to your feet and caught the door before he could shut it. Butcher let out a dramatic sound and cocked his head as he looked down at you.

You didn’t find him intimidating, not anymore. You had squared up against the man more than once. Hell, you thought Butcher respected you more for it.

“You have a problem?” he asked, baiting you.

“He’s gonna try and fuck me,” you said bluntly—albeit under your breath.

Butcher scoffed out a laugh, seeming actually amused. He also knew it was true. Ever since Soldier Boy had laid his eyes on you, he’d been gunning for you. Whether it was lewd comments or hungry gazes, it was obvious to everyone. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it one bit.

“Well, don’t let him then,” Butcher offered in a mocking tone.

Butcher wouldn’t have left you with the man if he thought you’d actually get hurt, you knew that. And it’s not like the supe scared you—at least not for that reason. The only one who seemed outwardly uncomfortable with his behavior was Hughie. You could handle him, but being alone in his company wasn’t an ideal way to spend your afternoon.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied sarcastically.

“Hey lady, I’m a gentleman,” Soldier Boy piped up in a gruff, annoyed voice. He seemed genuinely offended.

“See?” Butcher said in that stupid, I told you so tone. “Like I said, we’ll be back.”

With an annoyed huff, you pulled your hand from the door and allowed the man to pull it shut in your face. You caught his victorious smirk right before. Everything was a showdown with Butcher it seemed, and boy did he love to win.

“So,” Soldier Boy started as you turned back to him. “Are you gonna be a bitch to me this whole time? Just ‘cause I paid you a few compliments?”

You scoffed and shook your head, wondering how he thought saying shit like, “your tits look great in that shirt,” counted as a compliment. Whatever, he wasn’t going to change and you weren’t going to bother yourself with lecturing the stubborn asshole. You and the boys needed him as a weapon, not as a politically correct member of society. You’d burden yourself with whipping him into shape after he took care of Homelander.

“We’re gonna end up with a few hours to kill,” you noted as a change of topic, looking around the room.

You could hear the smirk in his voice when Soldier Boy said, “if you’re looking for suggestions, I have a few ideas.”

You rolled your eyes, but glossed over it. He was attractive and even charismatic—you couldn’t deny that—but he seemed to counter that with the crudeness of his personality. You spotted a deck of cards and grabbed it. “How’s your poker face?” you asked, holding up the cards for him to see.

“Texas hold ‘em?” He actually seemed into the idea.

“Sure, why not,” you decided.

You sat down across from him at the table where he’d been sitting. He pushed aside wrappers and pill bottles to make room. You began to deal and laid out the cards.

“What, you don’t have any chips?” Soldier Boy asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Where would I have chips at?”

“I don’t know, poker was your idea. You can’t play poker without betting.”

“I mean, you can,” you argued half-heartedly. Being alone with him was exhausting already.

“If you’re fucking boring you can,” he shot back. Suddenly, a look you could only describe as devious crossed his face. “We could play strip poker.”

At first, your instinct was to tell him hell no. You should’ve, honestly. Another part of you wondered if it would be fun— it was that impulsive, indelicate side of you that made you work so well with the boys. You must’ve been curious, crazy, or both to agree. But, you did.

“Fine.”

He practically beamed, grinning in victory. You were already starting to regret it. “Now it’s a real game. Gotta have something on the line.”

Even as he said that, you had an inkling that the stakes would be a bit higher for you. And as the two of you played and clothing began to disappear from the both of you, you suspected he wanted to be naked in front of you almost as much as he wanted you to be naked in front of him. That became obvious when he took off his shirt and pants after his first two losses. You’d opted to remove a sock after yours.

Still, the two of you carried on a conversation during the game. It was a shock to you when you began to relax around him. It was even more surprising when you laughed at some stupid joke he made at Hughie and Butcher’s expense.

“You seem like most of the brains behind the operation,” Soldier Boy continued, laying the charm on thick. You could spot it clear as day, but even you weren’t totally immune to it as you grew to actually enjoy the game.

“More like their wrangler,” you replied with a small laugh.

“Maybe they’re too busy grabbing at each other's dicks,” Soldier Boy suggested. It pulled another laugh from you despite the offensiveness of it. Being around the boys for so long you’d developed a darker sense of humor.

A smile crossed his face, seeming proud of himself as he watched you react.

“You startin’ to hate me less?” he asked suddenly, like he just had to know right then.

“What?” you replied with a small chuckle, hardly registering the question for a minute. “Does it matter?”

It seemed to pain him when he replied unconvincingly, “no,” with a scoff. “Well, maybe.”

“Wow, that must’ve been hard,” you commented sarcastically. “Does my opinion actually matter to you?”

“What, a guy can’t make conversation?” Soldier Boy was getting defensive.

Over the past however long, his ego had been deeply bruised. You saw it back when he realized the truth about his team. He’d been betrayed and forgotten. You suspected there was a part of him, a still human part, that was desperately seeking approval. Even if he covered it up.

Still, you dropped it. You could’ve told him that you were beginning to think he wasn’t so bad, but you didn’t want to risk boosting his ego. He was still a dick, you tried not to forget that.

After a few more hands, you were missing socks and pants—still keeping your bra, underwear, and shirt—and he was missing everything except a sock and boxers. You were sort of in the lead, but things were pretty tied up.

You gathered the cards up again and began to shuffle. “Why don’t we play gin rummy?” you suggested. You were getting a tad tired of the same game over and over.

“What? Why? We’ll keep playing this. Deal.”

You let out a huff, but gave in. You decided to just go ahead and deal.

“One last round,” you told him.

“Whatever,” he replied in a mutter, collecting his cards.

You two played and carried on a light conversation about random things. You weren’t really focused on playing truthfully, but you should’ve been. You lost the hand, meaning you had to lose something else. Soldier Boy seemed eagerly awaiting your decision, most likely assuming you’d take off your shirt. You’d already lost your socks and pants, so it seemed like a natural progression.

So, of course, you had to screw with him.

You reached under your shirt and unhooked your bra. You removed the straps through your sleeves and pulled it out from the bottom of your shirt.

“Oh, you’re killing me, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy said huskily under his breath.

You let out a small chuckle to yourself at his reaction. You let him suffer for another few seconds before announcing, “Alright, I’m bored.”

“What?” Soldier Boy furrowed his brows. “No, c’mon, keep playing,” he tried to convince you yet again.

“We’ve been playing for an hour and you refuse to learn any other game,” you argued back.

“I know how to play other games. I just prefer poker.” Soldier Boy frowned as you scraped together the card to put them back in the box. “What about a bet? One last game, winner takes all.”

You eyed him curiously, wondering where he was going with this. You’d let him convince you to play strip poker and that was already pushing it. “What kind of bet?”

Soldier Boy couldn’t bite back his grin and you had a feeling where he was going with this. “How about I win, you let me fuck you,” he stated casually. You scoffed. Of course he couldn’t help himself. He fully registered the bored I’m over it expression on your face, yet continued anyway. “And if you win, you let me fuck you and I’ll thank you for the privilege.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. “What kind of deal is that?” Your voice was dripping with amusement. It was actually kinda funny, the level of audacity and shamelessness he had. “No thanks, buddy.”

You moved to stand and heard Soldier Boy curse under his breath. “Fine, fine,” he said loudly, regaining your attention. If you could read people the way you thought, he seemed kinda desperate. It was almost comical. Then, his tone shifted. “I heard you earlier,” he said seriously. It threw you off. “That supe you want dead. Not Homelander, the other one. Personal to you.”

Tek Knight… Why was he bringing up that bastard?

“Heard you trying to slip him onto the list for me to take out,” Soldier Boy continued knowingly. “But your boss won’t let you.”

“Butcher isn’t my boss,” you corrected. It was the wrong thing to focus on, so you did something that was probably going to be very unadvised in hindsight. You heard Soldier Boy out.

“Whatever. Because I like you,”—you raised your brows at that and muttered an uh huh to yourself, because you didn’t really believe him—“you win and I’ll take him out.”

He was groveling, but damn him for figuring out something you wanted. You hated Homelander and pretty much all supes just like the rest of the boys, but also, like they all did, you had a grudge against a certain supe. Tek Knight was the reason Butcher found you. Before he even brought in Hughie, he had found you. Because Tek Knight had killed someone you loved.

Que the tragic backstory, right? You all had one. At one point you had believed the superheroes were heroes. That is, until you saw Tek Knight recklessly kill a bus with civilians in it—one of which was your best friend. Vought covered it up, blamed the criminals he’d been chasing, and praised the supe for his heroism. Needless to say, that changed your preconceptions of superheroes. Not long later, Butcher found you and took you under his wing. You bonded over your desire to kill the so-called heroes that had taken someone from each of you.

Except, Butcher was so determined to kill Homelander after what happened to Becca with Ryan that your need for revenge had been set on that back burner. And now here Soldier Boy was, offering you the only thing you really, really wanted. All you had to do was bet your dignity.

Could be worse, right?

“You in?” Soldier Boy asked, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to the moment. He was already grinning, like he knew your answer.

You returned to where you had been sitting across from him previously and smothered any last doubts you had. “Yeah,” you replied curtly.

That cocky smile of his only grew—it was probably the happiest you’d seen the man. He had a nice smile, but you knew his joy was because of your weakness.

You had to win, even if it was only to watch him lose and wipe that stupidly dazzling smile off his stupidly good looking face.

You didn’t trust him to shuffle, so you did. The stakes were high and you could already see the bulge in his boxers when he stood and scooted his chair closer. He was eager and ready to play—and more. You didn’t want to give him the chance to rig the game. You made an effort to avert your eyes as you dealt the cards out.

The cards in your hand weren’t the best, but they were good enough. Hopefully.

Maybe he wouldn’t be thinking with his upstairs brain, he already seemed incredibly impatient, which could work in your favor. Although, that didn’t seem likely since there was no chance either of you would fold. You pushed all the inner back-and-forth thoughts out of your head and tried to focus on the game. You put on your poker face and just hoped he had a worse hand.

You didn’t say much as you played. Neither did he. You avoided eye contact while he threw you a few looks here and there. There was an intensity to the game that hadn’t been there before. Probably because both of you had a good reason to win. At least, a self perceived good reason on Soldier Boy’s part. You thought yours was much more valid.

The game neared the end and it was time to show.

The moment of truth.

“Two pair,” you said, showing the cards that you had.

Soldier Boy let out a breath, which made you wonder if he had been holding one in. That wasn’t a good sign. He laid down his cards. “Full house,” he revealed.

Well fuck. You lost.

“Damn,” you muttered, but it overlapped with his voice.

“Oh fuck yes.” He sounded a little bit too enthused for your liking. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Take it as a compliment, sweetheart,” he commented smugly. “And don’t be a sore loser.”

“You sure got over Countess quick,” you mentioned in an off-handed tone just to mess with his head a little. “I thought you were still into her.”

He scoffed. “She was a bitch.”

“You called me a bitch earlier,” you pointed out.

“I call everyone a bitch.”

“You’re fucking confusing.”

“And you’re hot. I bet you’re a good fuck,” he countered with lascivious tone.

“You’re gross.” You were somehow still taken aback by his crassness even though you should’ve been used to it by now.

“What, you want me to tell you I’m into you?” He said it like it was offensive. “Like actually? Fine, I am. Big fucking deal,” he dismissed. “Now I won, get your ass over here. I’m not gonna fall for whatever mind games you’re playing.”

You could’ve told him no. You should’ve told him no right away. But damn, you couldn’t help but wonder. You couldn’t deny that Soldier Boy was attractive and from the view you got when he stood, you knew he was… large. Yeah, you should be saying no. What were you thinking?

Well, you were thinking you perhaps you did want to fuck him.

That was the truth even though it shouldn’t have been. You admitted that to yourself.

So, keeping with your end of the deal (because you planned to use the bet to justify all future actions to yourself), you stood from your chair. Soldier Boy was running his hands over his thighs when you moved towards him. He just couldn’t wait to touch you. He could hardly contain his excitement.

He pushed back from the table to make room. When you were within reach, his large, firm hands grabbed at you. Soldier Boy pulled you into his lap with a chuckle.

“Hi there,” you greeted in a sarcastic tone when you came face to face with him.

“Hey, darling,” he replied smoothly. Soldier Boy leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your head slightly. You weren’t sure why, you just did it. He scoffed a little, seemingly disappointed. “What—you’re not gonna let me kiss you?”

You eyed him curiously. “Why is that something you want?”

He shrugged a little. “I’m old fashioned.” He leaned in again and you didn’t turn away. “And it wasn’t a lie when I said I liked you,” he admitted under his breath before capturing your lips.

For a guy that hadn’t been in action for a few decades, Soldier Boy was a surprisingly good kisser. His lips were soft and plump, and moved expertly against yours.

When he pulled away, you were left slightly breathless. That seemed to fuel his ego because when he looked at you, a smirk appeared on his lips.

“Maybe we can both be winners,” Soldier Boy decided smugly. You became aware of his hand creeping along your hip. His fingers grazed your skin and then his hand made its way into the front of your underwear.

A spark of pleasure and even excitement shot through you when his thick fingers found what they were looking for.

Soldier Boy let out a deep, content hum when he brushed against your folds. You were already getting wet for him due to anticipation. He pressed one finger into your entrance and you bit back a gasp. Your body welcomed him, which made him chuckle.

You were waiting for some snarky comment, but at the moment he didn’t have one. Soldier Boy was far too focused on getting you ready for him to think of something. He rocked his hips, grinding his hard cock against your thigh as he pushed another finger into you. He moved them expertly, it should’ve been surprising how much care he was taking to elicit pleasure from you. However, you were far too distracted by the feeling of his thick fingers thrusting and curling inside of you to analyze him.

His thumb found your clit and you moaned, writing in his lap. Soldier Boy watched you, lips slightly parted, breaths heavy. His cock was achingly hard—you could feel it against you.

You felt a familiar knot in your belly form due to his motions.

“That’s it,” he said heatedly, feeling your walls begin to tighten around him. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t wait to be inside of you. Want you to come on my fingers first, though.”

His voice did something to you. You shouldn’t have liked it so much, but it was deep and rich and fuck, it was hot. As your eyes scanned his lust blown face, you saw something else. You couldn’t quite place it.

Your body tensed and as he perfectly moved his thumb and fingers in sync, you knew he was going to get what you wanted.

You fell against him when you started to quiver, the pleasure becoming all-consuming. Soldier Boy welcomed you against his firm body.

“For a girl that hates me you’re squeezing my fingers real fucking tight,” he grunted out against your ear.

Barely another second passed before your orgasm crashed over you in a wave. You pressed your lips together to conceal a dizzy moan, but it broke free.

You rode through the aftershocks on his fingers, catching your breath with your head on his shoulder.

When you finally came to your senses, his words rang in your head. “I don’t hate you,” you clarified in a murmur.

You sat up in his lap, head hazy with pleasure and trying to catch your breath, as he withdrew his hand from your underwear. Soldier Boy stared at you, scanning your face with an odd desperation you finally recognized. You meant it and he realized that.

You were yanked from your pleasured daze when his large hands gripped under your thighs.. In a swift motion, Soldier Boy lifted you. He stood as well and suddenly, you were lying with your back on the table, staring up at his lust blown emerald eyes.

His hands flew across your body, ridding you of your last pieces of clothing. Once you were exposed beneath him, Soldier Boy rid himself of his own clothes.

The two of you were completely naked, eyes scanning over each other's bodies. He pulled you to the end of the table and positioned himself between your legs.

Everything moved in an adrenaline filled blur.

There was very little time to prepare yourself as he planted a hand near your head and used the other to grab his cock. You briefly felt him line himself up to your entrance. Then, he was pushing into you. A gasping moan that surprised you both slipped from your lips as he filled you.

You had gotten a glimpse and knew he was big, but that had done nothing to prepare you for the stretch of his thick cock inside of you. There was a twinge of pain laced with the pleasure and it made you quiver around him.

A deep groan came from above. His eyes had fluttered shut. His hand slapped to grab your waist. His fingers flexed and dug into your skin.

“Fuck,” Soldier Boy cursed under his breath.

His cock throbbed inside of you and you could tell he needed a moment. You had to give him credit for maintaining some level of self control given how long it had been for him.

Except, you were getting impatient. In a bold move, you wrapped your legs around his waist encouragingly. Then, you raised your arms to grasp his face in your hands. You pulled him down into a passionate kiss, which he gladly responded to. He pulled back his hips a little, then thrust forward. You gasped against him and he smiled.

He straightened then, moving both hands to your hips. You braced yourself as he withdrew again, fully this time, then shoved forward.

It took a few experimental thrusts before he set a pace, but when he did you could do nothing but lay there and take everything he gave you.

You weren’t sure what you previously thought fucking him would be like, but damn it was good.

Soldier Boy knew what he was doing. He pounded into you hard and fast, forcing pleasure through your body. He was panting above you, then leaning down to press sloppy kisses to your body. His beard scratched against your skin, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was his cock filling you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Soldier Boy cursed and muttered the praise. His husky voice cascaded over you. You didn’t reply, but he seemed pleased with the fact that you couldn’t. You were doing everything in your power to not let out embarrassingly loud noises.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with panting breaths from you both.

He brought his hand down and pressed his thumb against your clit. Soldier Boy flicked his eyes up to you, watching your face contort in further ecstasy.

He was fervorous, putting everything he had into fucking you. It was going to be quick, he couldn’t hold back much longer,, but he wanted you to come with him.

He kept up his motions, pounding into you, filling you over and over again.

You grasped at his back suddenly, digging your nails in as your body tensed and the knot in your belly exploded. Soldier Boy groaned loudly as your body tensed and shivered around him. You couldn't hold back your moan that time.

That sent him spiraling into his own release.

One, two, three—Soldier Boy slammed into you a final time. You felt his cock twitch. He shuttered above you. Then, he was spilling inside of you. You should’ve stopped him, but you wanted to feel him fill you up.

Soldier Boy let out a heavy exhale and practically collapsed on top of you. He nestled his head into your neck, nose brushing against your ear. The feel of his cock stuffing you full, his come dripping down your thigh, and the weight of his body was all consuming. You couldn’t deny that you loved the feeling.

You ran your hands across his muscular back, listening to his heavy breathing in your ear and his heart pounding from the exertion.

There were no words spoken between you two for several moments as you each caught your breath.

“I’ll take him out,” Soldier Boy muttered into your neck, catching you off guard. It took you a second to register his words, but when you did, you turned your head to look at him. Just in tandem with him to lift himself to hover over you. He planted his hands steady to hold himself up. Your noses were only a few inches apart and you could feel light puffs of breath coming from him against your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask, stunned and wanting to be sure you heard him right.

“That supe you hate,” he clarified. “I’ll kill him for you.” Soldier Boy raised his hand and brushed a few strands of hair back from your face. “If that’s what you want.”

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you told him, nodding slightly. “I want you to.”

“Alright then,” he confirmed with uncharacteristically tranquil demeanor. Seeing a gentle, oddly caring smile instead of a sleazy smirk on his face threw you off.

You thought Soldier Boy was going to lean down to kiss you—he looked like he wanted to—but something caught his attention. He lifted his head towards the door.

That’s when you heard it. The door knob rattled..

A devious grin crossed Soldier Boy’s face. It suited him better than the previous expression.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, knowing what was about to happen and that you couldn’t prevent it.

You turned your head towards the door, just in time to see Butcher and Hughie walking back in.

#quin-ns writing #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #the boys #the boys season 3 #jensen ackles #the boys x reader #soldier boy smut #the boys smut #jensen ackles x reader

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 4

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.    

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Making out, a bit of groping, heavy flirting. Nothing extreme here.  Summary: The day after your outing with Jack things take an unexpected turn, including a visit from Champ’s wife and a change in plans for your cousin’s wedding. Notes: That pesky love triangle is rearing its head defiantly in this chapter, gang! 

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack opens the door to the dining room, a bit nervous as he comes into what he’s come to consider ‘your space’. He knows that he’s blown kind of hot and cold with you, but he wants to see you. Needs to see you, if he’s honest with himself. After a restless night, he’s here. A crate of the new whiskey and a crate of apples from a nearby farm he knows as an offering to your culinary expertise, rolled in behind him on a delivery dolly.

You’ve been in your own little world - singing along to the music playing through Bluetooth speakers situated on the steel counters and dancing around - while you whip up two batches of icing to go with the red velvet cake that you baked. Cream cheese frosting and whipped chocolate ganache are the contenders for topping off the classic sweet, and you’re going to give Diana a call to come do a taste test as soon as they’re ready. Or you were, until you turned around to put a bowl of chocolate frosting on the main counter and saw Jack in the doorway. “H—hey.” You flash him a grin, feeling your cheeks heat at the sight of him all decked out in his suit jacket and tie with his Stetson.

“Hey, sugar.” He hates interrupting your little dance party in the kitchen. Smirking slightly as he had watched your hips sway in time to the beat. “Not interrupting anything time sensitive, am I?”

“Not at all.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. He had been friendly but distant for the rest of the night last night, helping you bring things in the house when he dropped you off but politely declining the cup of coffee you had offered. The man was a menace, leaking into your dreams and permeating every thought afterward. “You’re just in time for the first cakes to be frosted, but I…I actually made something else this morning. You’re the first to try them, if you don’t mind being a Guinea pig.”

“Always willing to be your test subject, sugar.” Jack assures you, inhaling deeply and groaning at the sugary sweetness of the air. He’s starting to think it’s your scent. “Whatcha got for me?” He asks, shuffling closer and smirking as he peers into your bowls.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” With a cheeky grin in his direction, you nod to the hand truck he carried in behind him.

Jack turns around and grins when he looks back at you. “This here are gifts.” He declares, picking up the crate of apples and setting it down on a clear surface of the prep tables. “Man down the road was sellin’ apples. Figured you could use ‘em somehow. Wanted to help him out and they looked good.”

“They look gorgeous.” The crate of orchard fresh fruit is basically crying out to be loved and used, and you pick one up to bite into the flesh immediately. “And they’re perfectly ripe,” you groan happily at the juicy sweetness. “You have to try one of these.” It’s still in your hand when you dash over to the far counter to retrieve the tray of cookies that you made this morning. “And one of these, too.”

"What are all these?" He asks, not caring - he will eat anything you offer him - he purely wants to know so he can tell what you are putting on the menu. "They smell good."

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday...about how you only like shortbread that has jam or in a sandwich cookie." The little Linzer-inspired cookies on the tray have beautifully fluted edges and perfect stars cut out of the top cookie with a layer of powdered sugar decorating the top, but the little purple flecks in the cookies are still visible. "These are lemon lavender shortbread with lemon curd to sandwich them together."

"Sounds fancy." He hums, looking over the tray and choosing a cookie that looks to have the most powdered sugar on top. He inspects it and admires the craftsmanship you put into a simple cookie that is anything but. "Looks delicious."

"I know they're a little unusual, but I made them for my sister's baby shower a couple of years ago and I never would have thought to use lemon curd between the layers if you hadn't mentioned sandwich cookies yesterday." In truth, they're one of your favourite things in the world, but you don't know how lavender cookies will go over with cowboys. If the flavours aren't going to be popular, you'll just make them in your own kitchen at home and be very happy with enjoying it in private. "If you don't like it, that's okay. I just always need you to be honest when you taste something."

Jack nods seriously and takes a bite of his cookie, closing his eyes and chewing silently. Contemplating the flavors as seriously as he would testing a batch of whiskey. "Hmmm." He nods to himself, taking another bite and munching on it again. "I— the lavender is a little heavy for my taste, but I can see this going with a spiked sweet tea." He opens his eyes and looks down at it. "Bourbon sweet tea."

"Pull back on the lavender? I can do that." Somehow you knew - or maybe hoped - that you could trust his palate, and you dash to the refrigerator to pull out the pitcher of sweet tea you have stashed there and the open bottle of bourbon on the counter to mix some drinks and see if he's right.

"Just a smidge, for me." Jack tells you. "But I'm sure others will like it just like it is." Jack watches as you pour out the drinks, one for him and one for you. He takes it and immediately takes a sip before taking another bite of the cookie. "Yep, holy hell in a handbasket." Jack whistles, looking at the cookie and the drink with fresh eyes. "You gotta try that combo, sugar."

A bite of a cookie and a sip of your drink have you grinning almost immediately, doing a little happy dance in place as you realize that the subtle floral notes in the bourbon are amplified by the cookie and the tartness of the curd tempers the sweetness in the tea. It's an absolutely perfect combination and you're on the verge of giggles because of it. "Holy shit," you look up at him again with bright, excited eyes. "That's incredible."

"Now, with that sweet tea, you don't have to do anything to the cookie." Jack tells you. "It's balanced just like that - at least it is to me."

"I'll have to put a note on the menu that they're recommended as a pairing with the spiked sweet tea." You had already been planning on putting that particular drink on the menu, but now it's mandatory. The combination is too good to pass up. "And it's one hundred percent thanks to you."

“Nothing to it sugar.” Jack winks. “I know my whiskey and I know my sweets.”

"Do you have time to hang out?" If he's just dropped by for a few minutes you'll understand, but the jittery eagerness in you that just doesn't seem to be satiable hopes that's not the case. You'll take every single moment of time with Jack that you can get.

“Now, sugar, I haven’t even gotten to my other gift.” He pouts, secretly pleased that you want him to stay. “What kind of man would I be if I deprived such a gorgeous lady of my company when she’s wantin’ it?”

"You brought me something else?" Only the crate of apples had been visible over the side of the counter that he was standing behind, and you raise an eyebrow at him. "Besides the gift of your generous company, I mean?"

Chuckling, Jack bends down and picks up the crate of whiskey he had pinched from the warehouse. “I brought you some of the new whiskey line we were talking about. So you can see how you like it.”

“Oooo!” Practically squealing when he puts it down on the counter, you slip around the other side to steal a tight hug of gratitude. “Thank you, thank you for this. I’m going to have to make a study of this one to get the tasting notes right.” Something in the back of your mind is saying to try pairing it with the apples he brought, but you’re far too distracted being pressed momentarily against his body for that thought to continue.

Electricity practically crackles in the air when your eyes meet his and Jack grunts a small, nearly unheard curse. It’s wrong, it should not be happening, but the voice of reason that is normally screaming in Jack’s mind is disturbingly silent as he leans in. Pressing you in to the counter and reaching up to adjust his hat so he can kiss you.

That tightness in your chest was so individual - you had thought. The butterflies in your belly and lump in your throat, a problem you would have to deal with on your own. You were convinced they were isolated feelings until his eyes met yours. Instead you see nothing but desire reflected back at you and the delicate flutter of his long lashes before you both shut your eyes. His kiss is so much of his own personality - brash and insistent yet somehow also gentle and coaxing; and his hands mirror the feeling with one gripping your hip tightly and the other softly cradling your opposite cheek. It’s the most achingly sweet and intoxicating kiss you’ve ever had in your life and you just…surrender. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t completely in his thrall, so you just wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and soak up every second of affection he’s willing to give you. You can analyze it later. For now, you’re just going to luxuriate in how startlingly right it feels.

Once his lips touch yours, it's like a fuse has been lit. Or a countdown started. Inevitably working down to the moment that Jack is going to lose control with you. The moment building between you like an organic thing, taking on a life of its own as he presses into you more, his tongue becoming slightly more insistent as he swallows your moans down.

You open up for him instantly, never intending to be coy or mask how much you want to be on the receiving end of his affection. Maybe other people might turn their noses down at you for it or call you easy, but you’ve never believed in playing games. Especially not right now. Not like this. Not with your hips shoved up against the steel counter and your fingers clawing at his clothes to drag him impossibly closer to you while your tongue dances with his to a beat all their own.

With a willing partner, and you are obviously willing, Jack takes control. His real job as an agent is good for making sure that Jack as the ability to throw a grown man twice his size so manhandling you up onto your pristine counter is no mean feat and he does it with a small grunt and grin against your lips.

It’s the first time you disconnect from him since he started kissing you, and it only happens for a moment, but you yelp in surprise when he picks you up and giggle gleefully when you land right on the counter where he has determined you belong. Shaky hands remove his hat from his head, leaving it on the counter beside you and letting you dive back in for more of that fervent press of his lips to yours. Every pleased sound you absorb from him seems to roll down your spine and make you that much needier, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He's never been a shy man and he doesn't start now. His hands roaming over your body in a way that if you weren't amenable to his affections, he would be getting slapped. Squeezing your ass and pulling you against him as he breaks away from your tantalizing lips and starts to kiss down along your jaw.

“Shit, Jack…” His name is barely a gasp, pushed out of you all at once when he tips his head to the side and finds out exactly how sensitive the tender skin on your neck is. Your fingers might as well be claws now, digging into his back while your knees bracket his hips and squeeze. Whatever the fuck caused this absolute snap in his composure, you want to pinpoint it exactly so you can repeat it as often as humanly possible.

His mind is filled with you, unable to think of anything else other than you and touching you. He groans and his teeth nip at your skin. Chuckling when you shiver and gasp, his mouth working its way south.

“Would’ve worn a f—fucking dress if I’d known you’d come by horny,” you pant, nipping at his earlobe before he continues to move down your shoulders, pushing your sweater off your shoulders with ease.

Jack chuckles, moving to your shirt and under it so he can unhook your bra. Wanting to duck his head under your shirt and pop your nipple in his mouth.

Something in your brain short circuits when his thumb swipes the underside of your breasts, a pitiful whimper dripping from your lips as your head drops back just for a second. There’s no way you can let this go by without watching him, though, and one of your hands threads into his hair to encourage him to explore as much of your skin as he wants.

He has your tit in his hand, his mouth diving down to suck on it, just to hear you cry out his name when a wrench is thrown into the mix. The door in the front of the building opens. “Hello?” Jack lurches back from you like he’s on fire and his eyes widen at what just almost happened. “I—” he backs up, nearly tripping over the hand cart and reaches over to grab his hat. “Get dressed. I’ll— I’ll stall.”

“Shit.” He pulls back from you with an unreadably wide-eyed expression and you aren’t much better, frantically pulling your shirt down and trying to get your bra back into place all in one graceless motion. The fact that you were in the process of having your clothes pulled off in the kitchen of your damn restaurant is either completely inappropriate or just a christening for coworker trysts yet to come, but either way you’re going to have extremely stern words for whoever is out there.

“Hey hun!” The bright and cheerful voice of Diana rings out through the space and Jack bites back a curse. She’s probably more eagle-eyed than her husband and she will notice kiss swollen lips and flustering bodies.

“Shit.” He hisses quietly, turning around and fleeing through the double doors to greet her and give you time to fix yourself.

“Well you’re not who I was expecting to see.” Diana smiles widely when Jack comes out of the kitchen, only raising an eyebrow when she notices he always-immaculate hair is mussed up right before his hat goes back on. “Visiting our new friend, Jack?”

"Just dropping off some of the new label for her to try along with some fresh apples." Jack tells her smoothly, bypassing any conversation about kissing or how he had to adjust so his jeans weren't tenting before coming through the doors.

“That’s very generous of you.” Nobody devours mystery novels and detective thrillers the way Diana Rogers does without developing a few observational skills, and the crumpled lapels of his jacket combined with the way he won’t meet her eyes, and she glances at his lips to be greeted with the exact sight she hoped to see. After all, she knows who and what you are to him. Diana chuckles quietly. “So the kiss was a thank you for the delivery?”

It's like the wind has been pushed out of his sails and Jack's shoulders slump at being caught. He looks back at the door with his hand rubbing the back of his hot neck as he blows out a breath. He had lost control. He had done the dumbest thing he could and touched you. The heat of your skin tingles against his fingers, as if your touch is already muscle memory. "I—" He swallows, closing his eyes. "Lapse in judgement." He murmurs quietly, the walls going back up and common sense taking control of his thoughts again. He can't do this with you. "Tell her— tell her I had to go, okay?"

“Jack—” Instantly regretting saying something, Diana watches him hustle out the front door with a frustrated sigh. That man is as dear to her as her own flesh and blood, but he can’t see past the end of his own nose sometimes. It was maddening to watch before, but now that there’s another person involved it’s worse. Even more so because she genuinely likes you. And who knows how you’ll feel about Jack running out the door without a word like a scared, spurned puppy.

Jack hits the side of his Bronco when he gets to it, frustrated at himself. "Shit!" He groans, knowing that he's fucked up royally. He can't do this with you, to you. So, frazzled, he opens the door and climbs inside. He needs to talk to Tequila and ask for a favor.

******

“Diana! What a nice surprise.” You’re all but glowing when she walks in the door, expecting Jack to stroll back in behind her with that cheeky look of self-satisfaction on his face that he would most certainly have earned. Your whole body is on fire - and if it weren’t your boss’s wife that just waltzed into the kitchen, you’d be shooing her out again immediately.

"Hey hun." Diana smiles brightly at you despite being annoyed at Jack. She's going to witness your face fall in disappointment and she hates it. "I came to see if you wanted some company and perhaps help?"

“That’s so sweet of you. I was actually going to call you later once the red velvet cakes were frosted.” And after Jack left, but that doesn’t need to be said out loud. He must be composing himself in the dining room. Not that you’re necessarily surprised - the insistent bulge in his jeans had been pressing against your thigh barely two minutes ago.

"Oh, you are just so sweet." Diana hates that your eyes shift behind her towards the door. Expecting Jack to come through them with the eager anticipation of a sweetheart waiting on her beau. "I know that it's disappointing, but perhaps you might want my company now, since Jack had to run off? Something about an emergency?"

Shit. You can feel your shoulders tense, lips pressing together in a firm line so you don’t frown and chest tight so you don’t sigh disappointedly or something equally melodramatic. It’s more of Jack’s hot-and-cold bullshit, apparently. Just when you thought it was obvious which way he was going to go. “O-of course.” You force yourself to nod, plastering a bright smile on your face so she doesn’t see you crumble. “Pull up a chair and I’ll pour you a glass of tea.”

She wants to wring his neck, or drag him back in here by his ear and demand that he fix the stricken look on your face. But she also knows that it will make Jack dig in his heels harder. "Maybe there is an emergency." She suggests softly, wanting you to believe that it's not you. Because it isn't. All of this is on Jack Daniels.

“Maybe.” You offer Diana a half smile before moving to the refrigerator. She’s observant enough to have obviously figured out that you have something to be embarrassed about, and that just makes you all the more embarrassed.

“Sometimes cowboys want to make you throw a lasso around them and knock ‘em upside the head.” She tells you as she moves towards the crates of apples and whiskey. It was a sweet gesture and one all done on his own. “I know that for a fact.”

“It’s my fault.” The logic doesn’t track, but you feel guilty, so it must be. You shrug a little, putting the glass of cold tea down in front of her. “Getting your hopes up after knowing a man for a week is schoolgirl stuff.”

The only reason she doesn’t reassure you that you have a reason to be drawn to Jack is because it’s not her place. “Seems like it’s not all unfounded.” She hums. “Just— Jack has a lot of past trauma. I have a feeling he’s wrestlin’ with it.”

“I’m not asking anything of him.” And you barely ever had on any front, which is why this whole thing was so frustrating. It makes your heart ache in a way that is completely new to you and makes you feel like he’s already burrowed into your insides before you could stop it. “I wouldn’t pressure him. He—he told me about his wife. It would be a shitty thing to do, to expect anything from someone who’s still in mourning.”

“Abigail Daniels has been dead for nearly twenty years.” Diana tells you bluntly. “Jack carries around his grief like an old dog with a mangy bone.”

“She was his soulmate.” And you’re not, you remind yourself harshly. Even if it’s a nice daydream to have. “Some people are only ever with their soulmate for their entire lives. It’s not fair to want him to jump into something just—” You blow out a breath, deciding to retrieve the layers of red velvet cake from the fridge and start icing. Maybe it will help calm you down. “Just because I have a crush…”

“He’s had his share of dalliances.” She admits, probably more than what were good for him. “He’s a red-blooded man with needs. But every woman he’s been with has known upfront what to expect and I’ve never seen him skedaddle off like his pants were on fire. You scare him.”

“Hell if I know why.” It’s not like you’re a scary person. Or at least no one else has been scared of you this same way. “It is what it is, I guess. I’m certainly not going to force a man to spend time with me.”

“Have some patience with him. He’s a man, bless his heart.” Diana knows that there will be more ups and downs before all of this plays out just because your soulmate is so damned hardheaded.

You smirk, stifling a laugh, and shake your head at the phrase. Enough time was spent with your grandmother throughout your life to know that ‘bless his heart’ is not a compliment. “I’ll call him later to apologize,” you decide. He’s supposed to be spending the weekend with you in Boston and the last thing you want is for that whole trip to be awkward.

“No, you won’t.” Diana tells you sternly. “You did nothing wrong.” She doesn’t even know what happened beyond the two of you kissing but she has a feeling that Jack couldn’t help himself. “That boy needs to apologize. And you should make him grovel a bit before you forgive him.”

“Did he say something?” The motions of icing a cake are soothing - getting out the cake stand and a cardboard pad, giving the giant bowl of chocolate icing a turn before putting a little on the pad to stick the first layer of cake to - it’s all a series of comfortable motions that your body has memorized.

“Just for me to tell you that he had to go.” She won’t bury the knife. You don’t need to hear about a ‘lapse of judgement’, especially when you don’t know why he is fighting this so hard.

There’s no need for a verbal response, not when the look on your face does all the talking for you. You just nod, focusing all of your attention on the task in front of you, and decide that when you call Jack later you’ll let him out of the commitment he made for this weekend. He’s obviously changed his mind about whatever spurred him on today, and you don’t want to spend time with a man who regrets you.

Diana moves over to help you, un-crating the bottles of whiskey and holds one up. “Do you want to try this now or wait until you are happier?”

“I’m fine, Diana. Honestly.” The fact that you feel heartbroken is just silly, you tell yourself, and put two glasses down on the counter in front of her. “Let’s try it. No reason not to.”

She studies you for a moment before she nods and starts to break the seal of the bottle so she can pour healthy measures into a glass. "I'm surprised that Jack brought you all this." She hums as she sets down the bottle and picks up the glass to smell the liquor. "It's under lock and key right now. Champ hasn't even brought home a bottle of it yet."

“I wanted to name the restaurant The Rabbit-Hole,” you explain, hating the ache of knowing Jack had done something so sweet and potentially broken rules to surprise you. “He thought since this is called Red Rabbit, I could use it in some recipes or pairings.” It downright makes you want to cry, if you’re honest with yourself, but you won’t do that in front of Diana.

“That boy.” Diana shakes her head and shoots you a grin. “I swear I don’t know if I need to pull his head out of his ass or shove my foot up it.”

“He doesn’t owe me anything.” The insistent and nagging need to defend him, to protect him, is right there on the surface even though you have no idea why. “We just hung out a few times. That’s all.”

Diana hides her smile behind her glass, happy to see that you are so sweet as to protect a man who obviously hurt your feelings. She wonders if you know that it must be your soulmate connection. “It smells delicious. What do you think?”

“It’s fruitier than I expected.” Of course, until right now, you hadn’t known anything about the line except that it was aged in applewood barrels. You had assumed that that was why Jack had decided to bring the apples with it. “It smells like the mature older sibling of the applejack we used to buy from the farmers in town growing up.” It’s such a small-town thing to do - to find the one employee working in the local apple and pumpkin farm every year who was willing to sell flasks of applejack whiskey to the underage high school kids. “And sweet. Like…maple?”

Diana tastes it and tilts her head as she swishes it around in her mouth. “Not maple.” She narrows her eyes and thinks. “More cane? Raw cane sugar?” She asks you, trying to confirm.

“Is that what that is?” She’s right, it’s not maple, but it has an earthier flavor than table sugar does without going all the way to molasses. “This would be amazing in caramel.” The thoughts are already forming, swirling around in your head while you figure out what flavours will work best with the unique liquor.

“And with that crate of apples.” Diana muses, looking towards the box. “He must have stopped by old Junior’s place and begged a box off him. Man is stingy with his ‘babies’ as he calls his trees.”

“He said somebody was just selling them by the side of the road…” He wouldn’t have done that for you, would he? Make such a lovely and sweet gesture and then take off like his ass was on fire?

Diana snorts and walks over to the crate and picks up an apple. “Nope.” She shakes her head and looks back at you. “These ambrosia apples are only available out of one farm in the area and Junior’s a son of a bitch about selling them.” She tells you with a grin. “Jack must have done some sweet talking or opened up his wallet to get these. The man wouldn’t sell me a bag to make fruit salad for my son’s birthday last year.”

“Oh.” When your shoulders finally slump, you pick up the apple you had taken a bite of earlier and have another nibble, letting the taste of the bourbon roll around it in your mouth. Whatever you do, it has to be this bottle and these apples. “I—I guess…I guess he must have changed his mind about me, then.” What the hell other explanation could there be?

“I think Jack is fighting what he wants.” Diana murmurs softly, setting the apple back in the crate and reaching out to stroke your shoulder. “He believes he doesn’t deserve it.” That is the truth, since his guilt over killing your original soulmate is hanging over his head like a shroud. It’s her opinion he needs to tell you and get it out in the open, but that was just her.

“There’s no reason to. It’s not like I have a soulmate that’s going to pop out of nowhere and try to complicate things, or anything like that.” No, that definitely would not happen. Not with all your marks gone and second soulmates being an impossible fairy tale that people told widows and widowers to try to comfort them. “I mean honestly, I came here with no intention of restarting that part of my life, only to have two different men flirt with me right from the get go and then within a week it all dies down and slips away. What was I even expecting? For some…magical change in appeal? Like I just needed a change of scenery and suddenly I could have my pick of men? That’s just…ridiculous.”

“Two?” Diana blinks for a second before she settles into a small smile. “Tex, of course.” She murmurs to herself, shaking her head. “I don’t think you have to worry about the interest not being there.”

“I should be focusing on the restaurant anyway.” Anything else is just a complication, and complications will just cloud your mind. At least, that’s what your dad would say if he were here.

She sighs softly, nodding at your comment even though she doesn’t agree with it. “Whatever you think is best for you.”

“I’m sorry you had to walk into the middle of this.” While you’ve been talking and sipping, your hands have been busy working. The first red velvet cake nearly has its crumb coat of chocolate frosting done. “It was never my intention to create any kind of workplace drama here.”

“I’m sorry that I interrupted.” Diana huffs at you. “Things might have been vastly different if you hadn’t had someone come in.”

“Maybe not for the better, though.” You can just imagine how it would have turned out now. Your clothes strewn all over the kitchen and your attraction satiated, only for Jack to turn away after he’d gotten what he came for. You’d only be even more miserable.

All she can do is hum, not sure how Jack would have reacted, although it was probably better than right now. The sound of the front door opens again and she can hear the sound of boots thumping on the hardwoods, heading towards the kitchen with a eager determinate stride.

Boot steps make your ears perk, but you swear you’re trying not to show any interest whatsoever until there’s a knock on the kitchen door and it swings open to admit Tex’s imposing frame. You honestly can’t be sure if you’re relieved or disappointed, but the natural smile that comes to your lips is a definite clue. “Looks like everybody’s looking for sweets today,” you observe, trying to get a little of your own teasing tone back again.

“Darlin’ I’m always down for some sweets.” Tex throws you a wink and hooks his fingers into his belt loop. “Was wonderin’ if I could talk to you?”

“Sure.” The second after you say it, you get the feeling that he’s asking for privacy more than anything else, and Diana seems to sense it as well.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” she offers, smooth as silk. “You call me later if you want to talk some more, okay honey?”

“Um—yeah. I really appreciate it. Thanks, Diana.” Her hand on your arm is a hair’s breadth away from being the most maternal hug in the world, and you pack up a few of the lemon lavender shortbread cookies for her to take home to Champ and Bobby before she slips out the door as unceremoniously as she came.

Tequila nods towards Diana respectfully as she takes her leave, waiting until he hears the door open out in the front before he lets out a breath and turns towards you. "So, uh—" He blows out a breath and grins at you. He knows you might not be happy but he wants to make sure that you have a blast. "Want to talk to you about something...if you've got a minute."

“That sounds ominous.” He’s never delivered a single piece of bad news to you, though, and never been anything but smiles. You just hope that that isn’t about to change. “Is this a seat and some tea kind of talk, or are we contemplating something serious over a whiskey?”

"I'm hopin' it's more a of 'I made your day' kinda talk." He admits, ducking his head down slightly and looking at you underneath his lashes before he straightens slightly. "Jack just came to tell me that he can't attend the wedding this weekend with you." He explains. "Something about an emergency that is pulling him away - he looked really upset about missin' it - but I was hopin' you would let me fill in and escort you to the wedding?" He asks hopefully. "We can have some fun."

There is no way in hell that Jack looked upset after running out of here like a bat out of hell, you decide, and you wonder if the older man had told his friend the reason he was chickening out of his promise. It’s not that you don’t want to spend time with Tex. Honestly, it’s kind of the opposite. He’s a sweet guy who likes to have a good time and is always admirable and ready for good conversation. He’d be a perfect choice if you weren’t upset about Jack tucking tail - so you tilt your head at him and remind yourself to smile. Tex is just being nice, and it would probably be an extremely bad idea for you to read more into it. “Well that all depends,” You tell him, leaning back against the counter. “Can you dance?”

"Depends on what kind of dancin' you want." Tex admits with a wink. "I'm not good at the fancy ones. But slow dancin' or having fun? I'm better than Jack any day of the week." Jack hadn't really explained, just said that he couldn't make it to the wedding and asked him if he would step in and make sure that you had a good time. Knowing that he had a crush on you. At least he thinks Jack knows he likes you. He should.

“And meeting my family once wasn’t enough to warn you off ever spending time with them again?” When he flew back to New Hampshire with you to help you pack, he had gotten treated to a full family dinner at your favourite Tex Mex restaurant and your father had laughed mercilessly about ‘taking Tex for Tex Mex’. To his credit, the cowboy hadn’t seemed to mind and it had given everyone else a good giggle.

He gives a half shrug of his shoulders and grins at you again. “What can I say? I’m a masochist for a pretty girl.” He drawls.

It stings somehow, almost bittersweet, knowing that an hour ago there was someone else here who might have been prepared to say something similar until he decided to tuck tail and run. Still - Tex is a good guy and has never given you any reason to doubt his good intentions. “I’d love for you to come.” You’ll have fun with him. You know you will. And just maybe you won’t be run out on this time.

******

The reception is in full swing, Tex adjusting the velvet lapel of his tuxedo and holds the laughably delicate champagne glass in his hand and wishes that he had a crystal cut glass of whiskey. Being here with you is worth the commercial flight, the crowded plane, and he understood why you didn’t want to take the Statesman jet. Worried about the way it would look and misuse of company property. Since he knew you don’t know about the intelligence portion of the company, he had let you book a flight on Delta.

What he hadn't told you was that he had called the hotel, transferring your room for the night to his own credit card and upgrading the room to a suite for luxurious comfort and privacy.

You'd taken your time washing the plane smell off and carefully covering your tattoo like you always do for anything formal, then making sure your hair and makeup were as close to perfect as you could manage on your own before getting into that beautiful dress. The tie and kerchief that matched your dress went to Tex tonight instead of Jack, and honestly he has been an absolute dream of a wedding date. Friendly with every elderly relative and murmuring jokes in your ear when cousins get snooty, your hand is looped around his arm now as you sip champagne and watch far too many friends and family members jump up for the Chicken Dance. No power in the universe could force you out of your seat for this craziness. No thank you.

“Ten dollars says you catch the bouquet.” Tequila leans over and whispers in your ear, using any excuse he can to murmur against your skin. He hadn’t missed the way you shiver slightly when he does that.

"Who says I'm even getting in on that brawl?" You huff and roll your eyes at him for effect. Anything that makes him laugh is good in your book.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Darlin’ a brawl is always a good time. Especially when it’s against your cousins.”

"You just want to see if anybody throws an elbow." Knowing your cousins it very well might happen, and now you kind of want to see it for yourself if you're honest. "It'll really annoy Paris if she doesn't catch it," you laugh, subtly pointing out one particular cousin of yours in her bright fuchsia bridesmaid dress.

“Oh, you’ll win against her.” Tequila predicts, smirking slightly. “Guaranteed. Tell ya what? You join the ladies for the bouquet toss and I’ll join the men for the garter.”

"Alright, but using your hat is cheating." It's so nice that the night hasn't been awkward at all. Nothing feels forced or like you're trying too hard to tiptoe around uncomfortable topics. This is comfortable and flirty, and you grin up at Tex. "Is there a prize if either of us win?"

His matching grin is daring and he leans in. “A kiss?” He offers, knowing it might be too much, but he’s going to shoot his shot. You look gorgeous and he’s drawn to you more and more as the night goes on.

You swallow, knowing that the last time that you kissed someone it got very heated and ended very badly. It's not that you don't want to. Not at all that you don't want to. Tex is a great catch and ridiculously attractive. And if it's awkward, you blame it on the champagne and never speak of it again. "Alright." You nod after a second's hesitation. "You got yourself a deal, cowboy."

With a grin more powerful than the sun, Tex nods quickly. “It’s gonna happen.” He promises you, setting his champagne down and immediately scanning the reception area as he scopes out his competition for this garter catch. Doing recon as if it were a mission.

“Oh, so you’re going to be the one throwing elbows?” That makes you laugh, at least, and you finish your drink before setting the glass down on a passing waiter’s tray.

“Whatever it takes to win.” He admits with a sly grin. “‘Specially when the prize is so worth it.” He’s felt like you’ve warmed up to him. Your fingers lingering on his arm a little longer and your smile a bit brighter. He knows that you’ve got a little thing for Jack, but he’s here and Jack missed out.

“Well, don’t knock anybody over or anything. Nobody gets rewarded for bad sportsmanship.” Flustered by the whole thing, you bite your lip and turn back to watch the last few seconds of your family flapping around like idiots until the song comes to an end. Are you flattered? Absolutely. But also a little nervous.

Tex chuckles, watching you fluster and squirm slightly. He’s aware that you might not be as interested in him as he is in you, but that happens. He’ll kiss you when he catches that garter and then if you don’t want it to go any farther, it won’t. But he wants to see where this goes, hoping it might lead to something beautiful.

The DJ gleefully announces the bouquet toss a few seconds later, and you laugh softly when your cousins flock onto the dance floor like seagulls after one, lone French fry on the beach. “Here goes nothing.” You decide, out loud, and give his arm a squeeze before heading directly into the thick of the group. Your sister will tease you mercilessly for it later when she finds out about the bet, but that’s okay. Tonight has been fun - you’re just hoping it stays that way.

Tequila hums in amusement as the women gather, watching you look back at him and roll your eyes in annoyance. You have been on the receiving end of plenty of envious looks because of the dress you are wearing and maybe because of him, but there is a definite competitive air around the group as they try to nudge you towards the outskirts.

If you had a smaller family this might be less hysterical, but the sheer volume of single cousins guarantees that no one can have a single clue who’s actually going to catch the obnoxiously bright pink bouquet. It’s Cassie’s absolute right to enjoy the attention on her wedding day, and she’s encouraging the competition from the other side of the dance floor, so you just shake your head and laugh, preparing to give a good old college try but not intending to turn the whole thing into a mosh pit.

It’s almost humorous, the gasp and screeching that goes up from the crowd as the bouquet lets loose into the air and starts its arch over the crowd. Watching the hands go up and reach for it. Even though it’s far too high for them to reach.

This moment might be most athletic your cousin Cassie has ever been, tossing her flowers out into the living sea of eager hands. The shrieking is ear piercing, but makes you laugh more than anything. This is a group of women who firmly believe that a bouquet of flowers will predict their future and you just can’t take that kind of thing seriously. Which makes it all the funnier when your fingers snag on the large Barbie-style bow adorning the bouquet’s handle and you tighten your fist to make sure it doesn’t slip through your grip.

Tex immediately sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles out happily before starting to clap and holler as you keep a firm hand on to bouquet. Grinning like a loon and winking when you look over at him.

There’s a collective groan and general whining of discontent from your cousins, with one even remarking how you barely know Tex so it isn’t faaaaair! But you laugh it off as you walk back to him, wiggling the flowers in his direction with a smirk. “No one can ever say I’m not competitive,” you tell him with a giggle.

“You sure are.” Tex hums, grinning as he reaches out and strokes your arm softly. “If looks could kill right now, you’d be havin’ your stone set.” He chuckles, looking over the sour looks of every one of the other ladies as they disperse reluctantly.

“Now let’s go piss off the men, too.” Tossing him a wink, You nod to the dance floor where all the single men are now gathering to catch the garter. It’s a tradition you genuinely don’t understand, but for the moment it’s fun. Plus your heart is beating just a tiny bit faster wondering what kind of a kisser Tex will be.

Ambling over to the crowd, Tequila seems relaxed, but he’s tensed slightly under the cool veneer of his tuxedo. The skills that make him a great Statesman agent going to make sure that he is the one that catches the garter.

For the most part the men are less enthusiastic about the whole ‘next to get married’ thing, but they are all competitive and eyeing Tex like he’s the greatest threat to their existence they’ve ever known, which just makes you cackle with private laughter.

It’s a little more suggestive than the bouquet toss, everyone whistling when the groom’s hands slide under the bride’s dress to pull the garter off. He stands, holding it up like it’s a prize and grinning before he twirls it around his finger and launches it into the crowd.

It’s honestly pretty entertaining to watch the guys acting like they’re going to start knocking each other over while your divorced brother rolls his eyes on the sidelines, but the highlight is how horribly indignant the groan is through the crowd when Tex’s arm goes up and easily catches the little fabric missile in his large palm. He doesn’t even hide his happiness, turning around and smugly grinning at you. Waggling his brows as the other men slunk away grumbling under their breaths.

The DJ comes over the sound system again, calling for you to join your date on the dance floor so the winners of the two tosses can share a dance, and you chuckle at the pageantry of the whole thing. “It’s either a victory lap around the dance floor or putting us on display for my cousins who are planning bodily harm,” you decide, taking his hand regardless once you’re in front of him.

Tequila snorts and looks around the room with a cocky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He promises, looking back at you and giving you a small wink. “Enjoy the moment, darlin’. Every one of them are jealous of you.”

The song is nothing you recognize, but you move into his arms easily. It’s slow and melodic and obviously meant to set a mood, and you find yourself getting more and more nervous. With no desire to fuck things up between the two of you, you also have to admit that you don’t really know what actually is between you at all.

He can feel the nerves pouring off of you and his grip on you tightens slightly. “Relax, darlin’.” He murmurs, taking mercy on you. “We don’t have to kiss here in front of everyone and we don’t have to kiss at all.” He allows, knowing that if you aren’t into it, he’s not going to insist.

“No, I want to.” You assure him with an immediacy that surprises both of you. It makes your ears and cheeks burn and you clear your throat self-consciously. “Maybe not…not in front of everyone. But…I’m just nervous.” You sigh a little, shrugging against his chest. “I’m not very good at this, can you tell?”

“I don’t believe that for a minute.” Tex hums, his fingers at your waist stroking your side gently. “Maybe just out of practice.”

“Maybe.” The confidence in his tone makes you want that to be the case, and you turn your arm slightly so that he’s now holding your hand against his chest instead of holding it out. It’s more intimate, but not in a pushy way. “Maybe it’s just that I don’t have great luck.”

“Luck is what you make it.” Tex tells you seriously. “You can say you had a string of failed relationships. Or you can say you learned what you won’t tolerate.” He murmurs, looking into your eyes and he wishes that he had some inkling of what you are thinking.

“I guess I’ll have to think about what I learned, then.” Thinking of them as failures certainly hadn’t helped at all, and the idea that there are lessons to learn and room to grow is a comfort now that you have no soulmate and an amorphous future to try to navigate.

Tex honestly doesn’t know if he has a soulmate, he’s never had scars on his body, and he holds out hope that his is an agent, but he’s not counting on it. “You do that.” He murmurs softly, his smile encouraging.

“Pretty sure there won’t be anything against you in there, though.” You tilt your head a little, moving in closer to him as you sway to the music and looking up into his face. “Just in case you’re wondering.”

“Well first that means that I’ve got to be counted among the liaisons you’ve had.” Tex winks at you and waggles his brows at you playfully.

You had meant that you didn’t think any of the lessons you had to learn would count him out in the future, but of course his playful nature wins out and you end up with burning cheeks. “I suppose so,” you admit.

The song comes to an end and there is a smattering of applause and some murmurs that shuffle through the air. “Do you want to get another drink, darlin’?” He asks, not wanting to assume anything.

“Something other than champagne this time?” Bubbly is great, but you’ve sort of gotten the feeling that it’s not his drink. And as much as you enjoy your family, you also really enjoy just spending time with Tex. “Then maybe we can say good night? My feet are killing me and I’m sure you don’t want to get jumped by my cousins who were hoping that garter would get them proposed to.”

"One for the road." Tequila nods, and his hand stands on your back while he guides you towards the table with your name cards on two of the seats. "You can sit and I'll get our drinks." He offers, knowing those shoes have to be killing you. They look painful.

The atmosphere of the dress shop last weekend had been intoxicating - that’s why you went for them - but the next time you plan on dancing the night away you’ll definitely be in sneakers. Or cowboy boots. “Just get two of whatever sounds good,” you tell him, figuring he’ll come back with Statesman whiskey or something of similar quality. A full open bar is a thing of beauty.

Tequila makes his way to the bar and orders two old fashions, nodding politely to the older couple as he waits for the bartender to make them. Tonight has been interesting and he’s going to give Jack hell for skipping this, knowing how the older agent loves a good party and schmoozing up attractive ladies.

A few silent signals between you and your siblings are enough to tell them not to come over - that you’re in the middle of something with Tex and will fill them in later - and your older brother rolls his eyes at you as dramatically as humanly possible before pulling your little sister and her husband back into the dance floor for ‘Dancing Queen’. Your phone in your clutch has remained silent aside from social media posts, pictures from the wedding reception already going up as people continue to have fun. You had really hoped. Thought maybe a small ‘Sorry again!’ text or an ‘Hope you’re having fun.’ message might come through from Jack just to prove he’s been thinking of you. But there’s nothing. There’s been nothing but radio silence from him since he walked out of the kitchen on Monday. So you swallow the disappointment, shove your phone into the bottom of your bag, and resolve to forget about him entirely. You’re out with a handsome, sweet, funny man that made a stupid bet to earn your kisses, and goddamnit you’re going to make sure they’re good ones. And whatever else happens? Happens.

“You are a lovely looking couple.” The older woman smiles as she eyes Tex, making him grin like a sap as he twists his head towards where you are sitting. “Well, thank you ma’am. Hopefully that will be true soon.” He doesn’t want to start a rumor that you have to defend, but he would like to be reality.

“Soon?” The woman glances back at where you’re sitting and chuckles softly at the uncertainty of young people. “What’s stopping you?”

“Lady’s choice.” Tex answers easily. “I’ve made my interest known and now the reins are in her hands.”

“I didn’t see the face of a disinterested woman while you were dancing,” she assures him as the bartender puts two glasses down in front of Tequila.

Tex grins and tips her hat to her. “Ma’am, sir.” He drawls as he picks up the drinks. “I better go back to her before she loses interest then.”

“There you are.” When Tex reappears at your side with two glasses, you offer him a contented smile. “What are we drinking?”

“Old Fashioned’s.” He sends you a small wink and sets the glass down in front of you. “Since we are doing all the traditional things tonight.”

“Sounds perfect.” You pat the chair beside you, inviting him to sit with you for a moment to enjoy your drinks. “To good company.” Is the toast you offer, holding up your glass to him. “Thank you for coming this weekend. I know there are a million other things you could have done, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.” Tex takes the seat you’ve offered, wanting to be in something that moves a bit easier than this tux, but it’s worth it. “No one else I’d rather be with too.”

The rims of your glasses tap against each other with a dainty ringing sound, and you shift a little closer to him at the table under the guise of getting comfortable after your first sip. “Next time we decide to party, I say we do it in jeans and sneakers,” you laugh, seeing the discomfort in how he holds himself. “Something a little more casual.”

“God yes.” Tex groans, nearly ready to kiss you for that suggestion. “Don’t get me wrong, you look beautiful, but you’d look beautiful at a bonfire sippin’ a beer with a t-shirt on.”

“I like a good excuse to dress up, but it’s been a long night.” His utter relief makes you laugh, and you sip the delicious drink he brought you between laughter. “You…you look very handsome. I mean, you always do, but I mean…tonight especially.” Geez…you really are bad at this…

“Tonight I’m irresistible?” Tex offers, throwing you a wink before he takes a sip of his cocktail. “That was the goal, darlin’, I’m glad I pulled it off.”

You could laugh. You probably should. But you end up simply shrugging, and offering him a shy smile. “Tonight you look like Prince Charming.”

“Does that make you Cinderella or Aurora?” Tex asks with a smirk. “Always confuse those two.”

“Cinderella.” You tell him, your tone as serious as if he had offended your family’s honor. As an enormous Alice in Wonderland fan, you had had a very Disney-centric childhood. “Aurora’s prince is named Phillip.”

Tequila winces, shaking his head. “That’s a horrible name for a prince.” He huffs, insulted by the lack of imagination. “Although, Tex ain’t any better.”

"I'm sure it was just fine for the 1950s." Never really having thought about the validity of a cartoon prince's first name, you nudge his leg with your foot under the table and let your smile come back ever so subtly. "Besides, princes aren't all they're cracked up to be."

It takes him a moment, but when he gets your meaning, Tex breaks into a beaming smile. “Yeah?” He hums and waggles his brows. “Prefer cowboys?”

"Maybe." The way he takes that as such an absolute victory is adorable, and you lean into him at your table to enjoy the warmth radiating off of him in waves.

“Then I guess I better work on changing that to a ‘definitely’.” Tex chuckles and takes another sip of his drink.

"You have a particular method in mind?" The way you've ended up sitting, your chair is scooted right up next to his so you basically only need to whisper to each other. It makes everything feel that much more intimate and secluded even though you're still in the middle of a crowded ballroom.

The small, teasing smile that is in the Statesman’s agents face turns devilish and slightly cocky. “Well, that depends on what happens after that kiss.” He drawls out. “I can always show you how good I am with my hands.” He winks and settles back for your reaction.

Freezing with your glass halfway to your lips, you can feel your eyes widen and your body flush hot all at once. “I—is that…something you want to show me?”

He looks at you for a moment to gauge if you really don’t understand how much he wants you. He murmurs your name quietly, “I want nothing more that to take you back to the suite and show you exactly that.”

The decision isn’t a hard one. It’s not as though you aren’t attracted to Tex, and there isn’t the threat of alcohol clouding your judgement because your tolerance is so damn high. This is one consenting adult to another - and also admittedly a reminder to yourself that Jack Daniels’ opinion is not the only one in the world. Shaking off the sting of that rejection, you knock back the end of your drink and lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek with your own completely on fire. “Then I think we should say our good nights,” you tell him pointedly. “And have the rest of the night to ourselves.”

The speed at which Tex springs to his feet is astonishing, immediately setting his drink down and holding out his hand to help you out of his seat. “Whenever you’re ready, darlin’.”

To your siblings’ credit, they don’t actually say anything when you come and say ‘good night’ with Tex’s hand on your back, and your mother only raises an eyebrow halfway before shooting your father a look that says not to say anything. She knows you’ll fill them in if there is anything they need to know, but your business is your business. In just ten minutes’ time you’re slipping out of the ballroom, hoping not to be seen or stopped by distant relatives looking to chat.

Your hand is still firmly in his as the two of you make your way towards the elevators. “Do you want to take your shoes off?” Tequila asks you. “You can walk barefoot or I can carry you?” His grin is playful, but he would totally carry you up to the suite.

“I’m not going to make you carry me.” You roll your eyes at him like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said, but still laugh. “I’m definitely taking these off, though. Three inches is too much.”

He snorts and bites his lip. “Darlin’ if three inches is too much, we’re gonna have a problem.” He jokes, a filthy grin on his face.

You stifle a laugh so hard that you snort, covering your mouth in embarrassment and looking up at him to see the absolute mischief on his face. “Oh no,” you promise him with a snicker. “That’s a very different circumstance.”

Tex winks and you and then bends down to one knee in the middle of the large hallway. “Let me take off those three-inch heels, hmm?” He pats his knee expectantly and smirks up at you.

“Reverse Prince Charming?” The hallway is mostly deserted, except for a few stray caterers and one guest who smiles at the two of you fondly before hurrying off to give you privacy. When he doesn’t move, obviously serious about the gesture, you lift one foot to rest it delicately on his knee while still trying desperately not to get his tuxedo dirty.

“Always gotta help a pretty lady in distress.” His fingers are thicker than the whoever designed the tiny buckles, but he manages to get the shoe undone and starts to slide it off your foot. “And this looks painful.”

“Who knows what I was thinking.” You laugh it off, nearly groaning in relief when you put your bare foot down on the chilly floor and let him unbuckle the other. You know exactly what you were thinking - it was all about how Jack looked at you in this dress and how you wanted to impress him. Thoughts that have no place in your mind right now.

“Done.” Tequila keeps the straps of the heels hooked on his fingers as he stands up and grins. “Now you can walk properly, even if it made your ass look incredible.”

“Flatterer.” Tangling your fingers with his when the elevator door opens, you pull him in with you and reach to take your shoes back.

“Just tellin’ the truth.” He puffs up in excitement and pride that you are so eager to go up to the room with him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Deciding that teasing is better than letting your emotions get involved even in taking a compliment, you tap the button for your floor and watch the doors close while you lean into his side. “I know you’re after my sweets,” you tease, shooting him a grin. “Sugar is the great temptation.”

"It is." Tequila can't even deny the way his body reacts to that tease. "I wanna find out if your sweets are only limited to your baking."

“Well…” Glancing at the closed door, you know you have nothing but privacy for at least the ride to your floor. “I believe I owe you a kiss.”

There's a smugness to his smile as he turns towards you, reaching for your waist to pull you against him gently. "Yeah?" He hums, glancing up at the numbers going up. "Think we've got enough time to do it properly?"

“That depends how much time you waste talking.” Tex likes to be teased, it gives his ego a stroke and makes him laugh, and he chuckles now even with the palpable tension in the air. “I swear, cowboys chatter more than church ladies.”

"Nothin' better to do at times." Tequila acknowledges, leaning in and his breath huffs against your skin. "But I'll shut up now and do this." He mumbles right before he captures your lips in a kiss that is meant to start gentle but eager.

It’s heated, neediness poorly hidden under the soft touch like he’s holding himself back but only barely. That gorgeously satisfying feeling of wanting and being wanted rolls through you and you lean into him more surely, slipping your hands up to his shoulders and letting the kiss linger.

It's hard not to deepen the kiss, not when he feels you soften under his lips. Your body shifting towards him and he could take it farther. Press you up against the wall and show you exactly how wild you are driving him, but the doors will open in approximately twenty-two seconds.

The faint ding of the elevator pulls you both out of the moment, albeit reluctantly, and you bite back a grin. “Maybe we should find someplace that has privacy for more than thirty seconds?”

He doesn't answer, just takes your hand and swiftly pulls you off the elevator to start striding down the hall towards the end where the door to your two-room suite is located. Eager to get you into the room and see where this goes.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #jack daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #love triangle #Tequila x reader #Channing Tatum

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

21 - Deep in my Heart, There’s a Trembling Question

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr / lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: bullying, name calling, misgendering/incorrect use of pronouns

Year: 1995

“Papa, daddy, can I help you garden?” Bobby asked.

“Of course, sweetie, why don’t you help me pick some weeds,” Eddie said.

He explained to her what the weeds looked like and how to properly pull them up from the ground. He sent her over to the edge of the fence to pick up some where there were no flowers, so she wouldn’t accidentally pull up any of Steve’s perennials. 

Steve went back to watering the lawn as Eddie laid some mulch near the deck. Bobby was singing and humming to herself as she pulled up the weeds and its surrounding grass. As she worked her way down the fence, the neighbor’s kids, and their friends, stormed into the backyard. Bobby politely waved hello before returning to the yard work.

As she continued plucking up blades of grass, she heard the kids taunting her. She pouted and tried ignoring them the best she could, but their torments only got louder and louder as they approached the fence.

“What’re you doing?” The neighbor boy asked.

“Gardening,” Bobby smiled.

“No, you’re just pulling grass.”

“No, my daddy and papa said I’m pulling weeds.”

“Dad and papa? You mean dad and mama?”

“No… daddy and papa…” She pointed to her fathers by the deck.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Mom? I don’t have a mom.”

“Everyone has a mom.”

“I don’t…”

“Freak!” One laughed.

“I’m not a freak,” she teared up.

“Cry baby!” Another taunted.

“Go cry to your mommy, weirdo!”

“I don’t have a mommy,” Bobby sniffed. “I have a daddy and a papa…”

“So you have two homos as parents,” one laughed. “Go cry to your homos.”

Not knowing what the boy’s words meant, Bobby wiped her runny nose on her mustard yellow sweater, and ran over to Eddie. She tapped him on the shoulder to pull his attention away from the flower beds.

“Hey, bug, what’s up? You all done with the weeds?”

“Papa,” she sniffed.

“Oh, my goodness, you’re crying.” He brushed the excess dirt off his hands before pulling Bobby into a tight hug. “What’s wrong? What happened? You bump your knee again?”

“No…” She wiped a tear off her cheek as Eddie pinched her nose go collect all the excess snot (wiping it into the lawn).

“Then what happened?” He looked at his sad daughter, pushing her hair behind her ears as she cried.

“Mrs. Smith’s son–”

“Eric?”

“Mhmm, Eric was calling me names and told me to go cry to my mommy, but I told him I didn’t have a mommy, then he called you and daddy something, and he said I wasn’t doing the weeds right, and–” She ran on in one breath.

“Whoa, Bobbs, slow down,” Eddie said. “First of all, you don’t need a mommy, okay? You have two loving daddies and that’s what matters, okay? Second, ignore them when they call daddy and I names, okay? It’s not important and it doesn’t hurt us, so it shouldn’t hurt you. They’re just being mean.”

“Yeah, but–”

“Bee–”

“Papa!” she interrupted. “They called you names!”

“Alright, I tried being nice about this. You want revenge? Full blown horror movie style?” She eagerly nodded. “Let’s go. Don’t tell dad.”

The two snuck into the house as Steve continued to work his way throughout the lawn. Eddie dug through their stowed away Halloween decorations for something to scare the neighborhood kids.

“Clean your face off, bug,” Eddie muttered as he grabbed a damp washcloth. He properly cleaned her face before sliding on a Jason Voorhies mask. “Give ‘em hell, kiddo.”

Eddie made his way to the backyard and watched Bobby chase after Eric and his friends. Steve’s attention was finally torn from the yard work when he heard all the children screaming. He saw his little one chasing several boys with a fake machete and a serial killer mask.

“Edward!” Steve yelled as he stormed the deck.

“Yes, Steven?”

“Are you responsible for that?”

“Possibly.”

“Christ,” he sighed.

“I’m not stopping it.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

They two let Bobby run around a bit longer before Mrs. Smith scolded Eddie and Steve for letting their child do such a thing. The two snickered to each other before calling Bobby back over to the yard.

“Are you two really laughing? She traumatized my son!” Mrs. Smith yelled.

“Oh, shut it, your son started it,” Eddie scoffed. “Next time, raise your son to not call our daughter names. Alright?”

“Eric, is that true? Were you calling Bobby names?”

“No,” he lied.

“My daughter is a tough girl who doesn’t cry at much. Whatever your son said really upset her,” Eddie said.

“And you called my daddies names!” Bobby added.

“And you called us names,” Eddie reiterated.

“Eric, in the house, now!” Her son cowered before dragging his feet inside. “Sorry for disturbing you all. Just, next time, Bobby, please don’t charge my son with a fake knife, okay?” She nodded in response. “Thank you, dear.”

A couple weeks went by and Eric hadn’t bothered Bobby since—or so the boys had thought. One afternoon, as the two were getting ready to head out and pick her up from school, the home phone rang. Eddie, being in the middle of writing a song, didn’t even hear it, so Steve wandered off to the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello?” Steve answered.

“Hi, may I speak with either Steve or Eddie Harrington?”

“This is Steve, how can I help you?”

“I’m principal Gibbons, I’m calling to inform you of an incident that occurred earlier today.”

“An incident? Is Bobby okay?”

“Yes, Bobby is fine, Mr. Harrington. It’s just…” Principal Gibbons sighed. “Bobby has been displaying some violent behaviors lately.”

“I’m sorry, what? That doesn’t sound like my little girl.” Steve shook his head in disbelief.

“Mr. Harrington–”

“Please, call me Steve—Mr. Harrington is my father, and I’m trying very hard to be nothing like him.”

“Apologies, Steve. Anyways, she got into a fight earlier today.”

“She what‽” he yelled.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie called.

“Bobby just got in a fight at school.”

“Did she win?”

“Ed–”

“Did she win? It’s a simple question, Steve.”

“I’m not asking if she won! Christ, forgive my spouse.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll be right down.” Steve hung up the phone and threw his jacket on. “Ed, come on.”

“We’re going now?”

“Yes, Edward, we are. Our daughter got into a fight, lord knows if she’s hurt! We need to go, now!”

Steve dragged Eddie to the car and sped off to Bobby’s school. They swung into the parking lot and ran in to meet with the principal. They found Bobby sitting outside the office, glancing at the floor, kicking her feet back and forth.

“Bobbs, what happened?” Steve asked, kneeling to meet her gaze.

“Did you win?” Eddie asked.

“Not the time!” Steve grit his teeth. “Bobby, I thought we raised you better than this. What happened?”

“Eric…” she whimpered. “He called me names again, then called you guys names, and then he said that papa is actually my mommy and I got mad and hit him…” She rushed out in a single breath, as she often did when she was anxious. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

Steve sighed in defeat as he pulled his daughter in for a hug. He gently rubbed her back as he heard Bobby holding in tears, sniffing back her emotions.

“You can cry, Bobbs, it’s okay,” Steve whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm…”

“He didn’t hit you back or pull your hair or anything, right?”

“No, daddy.”

“So you won!” Eddie threw his arms up in celebration.

“Yeah,” She giggled, wiping her eyes.

“We’ll talk to Mrs. Smith—Eric can’t keep doing this to you.”

“Harringtons,” Principal Gibbons called.

“Come on.”

Steve extended his hand to Bobby as the family walked into the office. Everyone got settled in the office as the principal prepped the paperwork.

“So, Mrs. Smith is threatening to press charges.”

“Whoa, what? No, absolutely not. Eric was the instigator here. Bobby was only standing up for herself and her family.”

“That’s not what Mrs. Smith and her son said.”

“I trust my daughter first and foremost. It wouldn’t be the first time Eric has started something like this, either. The Smith’s are our neighbors and Eric has a history of taunting Bobby. I can’t say I blame her for finally snapping.”

“Okay, Bobby, what did Eric say that started the fight?”

“He called me a ‘freak of nature’, said I have ‘homos for parents’, and that my papa is actually my mommy…”

“Eddie, Steve… we brought this concern up to you two when you were enrolling her.”

“But why should our lives have to impact hers? Yes, I’m a trans man and yeah, we’re two guys that are married, but that shouldn’t affect Bobby’s life. Especially her education. This is supposed to be a place of acceptance and learning, but instead you’re turning it into a place where people can openly bully her and then have her get punished for sticking up for herself. It’s not fair, Gibbons,” Eddie sneered. “People can call my husband and I all the names they want, but the second they bring Bobby into it, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“Mrs. Harrington–”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Eddie, please,” Steve urged.

“Stay out of this, Steve. Gibbons, we love our daughter and we value her safety and well being more than anything in the world. Her mental health falls into that, understand? She is a good, sweet kid who doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment. I will be damned if she stays at a school where the staff openly allow her to be bullied, and one where I’m openly misgendered.”

“Eddie, it was an honest mistake,” Gibbons backtracked.

“Save it, alright? Let’s go.”

Eddie swung Bobby’s backpack over his shoulder and led her out of the room. By the time he was out the front door, Steve stood up and leaned over Principal Gibbon’s desk.

“With all due respect, Miranda, you don’t get to treat my family like this. Understand? Bobby is the sweetest child I have ever met—Eddie and I work hard to be sure of it. She would never hurt someone else without good reason. Hell, this is the first time she’s ever hurt anyone at all. She’s just a little girl who loves her family, especially her papa. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, and I couldn’t be more proud. I love my family and I’m proud of who we all are. How dare you think you can treat us like this.” Steve straightened himself out before heading to the door. “Bobby will be withdrawn as soon as we find a replacement school. One that accepts us, Gibbons. And if you even think about disciplining my daughter and not Carol’s hellion, then you’re going to have a much bigger problem on your hands. Understood?” She nodded and gulped back any response. “Good.”

Steve slammed the door and joined his family at their car. He ran his hand up and down Eddie’s back as he buckled Bobby into her car seat. He leaned over, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“We’re proud of you, bug,” he smiled.

“Yeah, really proud,” Eddie added. “What you did was super brave. I know I couldn’t’ve done what you did. Hell, I couldn’t even tell people I was a man until I was nineteen.”

“Wait, what?” Bobby asked.

“What’s up?” Eddie straightened out her jacket and rested against the door.

“You had to tell people you were a man? Do I have to tell people I’m a girl?”

“What do you mean, honey?”

“Do we have to tell people what we are?”

“Oh… I think I know what she’s getting at,” Steve said. “Bug… okay, I’ll… we’ll… let’s talk when we get home.”

Steve rushed the family home and ushered Bobby into the living room, where he sat her between himself and Eddie.

“So, bug,” Steve started. “Papa is your papa, but, at one point in his life, he wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Bobby, I wasn’t always a papa,” Eddie said. He looked to Steve and took a deep sigh. “I used to, technically, be a mommy.”

“How? You’re a boy.”

“You’re right, I am, but I was born a girl, and legally, I still technically am—it’s how daddy and I were able to get married. My name wasn’t always Eddie, sweetheart. I was born as Eden… not Eddie.”

“So, does that mean I’ll become a boy too?”

“Not necessarily,” Eddie chuckled. “I was always a boy, but I was stuck in a girl’s body. Now, through the help of some very nice doctors, and daddy’s support, I’m a boy in a boy’s body.”

“Oh… okay.”

“I’m still papa, and I always will be, but the whole reason you got here was because I was born as a mommy. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, papa, I do.”

“Okay… just know, there’s nothing wrong with who I am, and there’s nothing wrong with daddy and I loving each other. We’re all born as who we are and we can’t change that.”

“And at the end of the day,” Steve added, “we will always love each other, and we’ll always love you. Okay? We’re a little different than most families, but we’re happy and love one another… and that’s all that matters.”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #gay #st4 #lgbtq #lgbt pride #joe kerry #joseph quinn #steddie #happy #pride #steve x eddie #love #maya hawke #netflix #robin buckley #parent steddie #steddie dads #transgender #trans eddie munson

[specialbrewbutterbeer]

Could you write something about Rooster and reader where she works at Penny’s and he gets jealous cause of Hangman or another aviator flirting with her(or maybe just another guy?) Idk I trust you;)

Mine (Bradley'Rooster'Bradshaw X Reader)

Word Count: 2742

TW: alcohol, jealousy, sorta suggestive

A/N: I loved this request! I think it came out well and loved writing it so I hope you enjoy! I'm currently working through requests slowly, but I will get to yours asap- so feel free to keep requesting. Feedback is appreciated and very needed also so please do leave it!

If you want to be added to the Rooster Tag List, please comment on the masterlist rather than here if you can, just for ease of adding you. Enjoy! :)

REQUESTS (OPEN)

MASTERLIST

(Y/n) had worked at the Hard Deck since way before Penny Benjamin had taken it over. She'd worked there since she was seventeen- she was very used to getting hit on by pilots.

She had been out with a few initially- which her parents didn't like, because almost all of these young men were much closer to twenty five than her own age- not they necessarily knew that. She let them assume whatever they wanted about her age. But nothing ever came of these relationships. She found them all arrogant, self centered and out of touch.

She liked them- Hell, they were all pretty to look at, and a conversation or two was fine, but anything else was just off the table.

Well- that was until Bradshaw.

The deciding factor was that she didn't meet him in the bar.

She met him in the parking lot- which doesn't sound that big of a change but made all the difference.

She'd been bringing in some crates of new glasses she'd been to collect from the wholesalers, there were five of them in the trunk of her car and they were heavy- but manageable.

"Hey-" She heard someone call out. She looked up and saw a guy about her age, with a neat moustache, jogging toward her across the lot, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and with his sunglasses slipping down his nose a little. He waved and called out again.

"Hey- Can I help you with that?" He asked, slowing to a stroll as he got close enough not to shout and pushing up his glasses.

"Hi- Uh-" She thought for a second. "Yeah- please do." She smiled and motioned to the trunk. "Grab a crate and follow me." He nodded.

"Yes, Ma'am." He gave a warm smile which honestly made her twitch.

She heard the clinking of the glasses as he picked one of the crates, with a fair amount of ease.

"I've seen you before?" She questioned as she turned and pressed her back against the side door. "You're a pilot?"

"Yeah- only been here a couple weeks though." He nodded.

"Oh- sure." She shuffled an old broken brick, which they used as a doorstop, over to the door with her foot, to prop it open. "You're one of the Top Gun students then?"

"Yeah-" He gave a nod again.

"Right." She turned again and lead him inside and to the bar. "Just put em' down here." She motioned and put down her own box.

"Right." He spoke and didn't falter to do as instructed.

"You good for another one?" She asked and he just smiled and nodded.

"You worked here long then?" It was his turn to ask questions.

"Oh yeah- since I was a teenager." She smiled as they made their way back to the car.

"And you like it?" He asked.

"Oh yeah- We get all you millitary types in, but that's alright, I've learnt how to deal with you." She teased. She didn't usually talk like that but she thought he was good-looking and at least quite polite.

"Oh- You get some of the rough ones in then, huh?" He laughed.

"Loads of em'." She nodded and picked up another crate. "You don't seem so bad though?" She asked.

"Thank you- I think. But no- my mother raised me to be better than that I hope." He raised an eyebrow.

She laughed and nodded, walking away with her crate.

Quite quickly the pilot picked up a second crate and came after her.

"My name's- Bradley, by the way- or Rooster." She spoke as he caught up.

"Nice to meet you- Rooster." She smiled over her shoulder at him. "I'm (y/n), no official alternative." She joked.

"I like that name-" He nodded.

"I'm glad, because I'm stuck with it." She laughed.

"Well it suits you." He smirked as they reached the bar once more. "Do you want me to get that last one?" He asked as they both set down their glasses.

"Oh- um, yeah- If you wouldn't mind." She nodded and fumbled around her pockets looking for her keys. "Here, if could close the trunk and lock it too- It'd be much appreciated." She smiled and held out her keys to him.

"My pleasure Ma'am." He nodded and turned on his heel.

"Thank you." She mumbled and made a mental note to say it properly when he got back.

Wow- She definitely had a rule against pilots, especially ones who drank here- but she liked him.

She shook it off and started unloading the glasses and putting them away, and serving the few people who were in there- since it was the early evening and they'd been open about an hour, but between her and her co-worker, who was busy washing glasses at the other end of the bar, they got through serving very quickly at this time of night.

Rooster appeared again with the last crate, which he put down with the others and put down her keys on the bar for her.

"There you go- locked and loaded." He grinned at his own joke whilst (y/n) just rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Thank you- I presume you were here for a drink?" She asked and he nodded, sitting down at the bar in front of her. "Good- I can give you one on the house for your help then." She gave a small, twitchy smile and started pouring him a beer.

"Thanks-" he spoke, taking a long sip from the glass as she handed the drink to him.

"So- you waiting for someone?" She asked, suddenly feeling she should just take the chance, it wouldn't hurt after all.

Rooster shook his head.

"Only my classmates- but they're running late so I got down here early." He explained. "Good thing I did, eh?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah-" She spoke a little meekly.

And that was it. That was the start off a casual, on-off relationship that lasted the entire way through his time at Top Gun.

Until the last night.

The final day after graduation, all the graduates decided it would be a good idea to go- in their full uniforms and with high spirits, back to their usual hangout one last time.

There had been a sadness between (y/n) and Bradley for the past while- knowing he'd be leaving soon, but they looked past it.

Tonight he was a weird mix of ecstatic and strangely morbid- now having surpassed his father's achievements. He didn't have any family there to celebrate with- and that was a little off putting- but he was happy all the same.

They all walked in- and there she was- as per tradition, as she always was, behind the bar.

She heard the noise of the rabble as they came through the doors and looked up from pouring.

The lot of them- glossily suntanned, grinning and brushed up in their full dress uniform. It was quite a sight. Rooster looked particularly good.

"Congratulations-" She grinned, handing over the beer she had been pouring to it's recipient, who quickly slunk away as the bar was soon surrounded by airmen.

"Since It's your graduation- I'm allowed to give you all one drink each- on the house. The rest you'll have to pay for." She grinned and a cheer went up.

She started tapping open bottles and pouring for each of them, and then paused as Rooster made his way to the front of the crowded bar.

"Hey sunshine-" He spoke- his nickname for her spilling out happily. She liked his nicknames.

"Hiya- how you feeling?" She asked with more of a grin than a smirk on her face. This uniform suited him well, almost better than his usual Hawaiian shirts and aviators.

"Ah- good, you know- just looking ahead." He smiled, and looked like he was gonna say more, but didn't.

"That's good- Congratulations, stud." She teased a little, but meant the sentiment.

He laughed and shook his head and she passed him his usual drink.

"Thank you." He smiled.

(Y/n) moved down the bar, getting to serving the rest of the graduates.

"Hiya, Sweets-" She heard, and looked up to find Hangman leant on the bar and staring at her with a cocky smirk on his face. She had spoken to him many times, he'd hit on her a little but she'd shut it down like she did with (almost) everyone else. She actually thought he could be quite alright despite his arrogance, and got on okay with him. She was used to pilots like that.

"Hi." She smiled politely. "I'm only putting up with that because it's a big day for you all-" She laughed.

"What?" He cocked an eyebrow as she poured for him. "But you are so sweet lookin'- I just can't help myself."

"Thanks-" She shook her head and laughed, in a good mood and willing to put up with it, though making no attempt to knowingly encourage it.

"No- I mean it." He smirked.

"And I believe you." She nodded and handed him his drink.

Rooster looked down the bar and spotted them talking- that stupid look on Hangman's face. He rolled his eyes and then caught a few words of what passed between them.

"Since it's a 'big day'-" Hangman repeated the phrase she had used. "Can't I buy you a drink, Sweets- a goodbye present?" He asked, holding out a couple notes folded, between his pointer and note fingers.

She hesitated and raised an eyebrow at him.

Bradley found himself, not angry, but highly uncomfortable and certainly jealous of his classmate. I mean, they weren't a couple, not officially, but people knew that they were involved. Hangman especially knew, he made fun of Bradley all the time for it. Still- he didn't feel he had the right to intervene. He just watched as she finally took the money and put it in her pocket.

She paused for a second and laughed. Hangman hadn't left the bar, so she beckoned him closer.

"Since you've been so persistent- and since you're leaving- and even been nice enough to buy me a drink..." She laughed, not even thinking about it. "I guess you can have one thing-"

"Oh yeah?" Hangman asked, curious.

"Yeah- come here." She couldn't help but giggle and Hangman leant forward. She pecked his cheek and ruffled his hair up. It was more playful than anything else.

He just laughed. He knew she was just taking the piss out of him- he could take that. He got the message.

"Alright- thanks." He rolled his eyes.

"Fly safe." She laughed at him and nodded, punching his arm lightly.

"Yeah-" He smiled at her and was pulled away by some of the other graduates.

She looked up and down the bar, still with a smile on her lips and shaking her head at the pilot's antics.

She spotted Bradley staring, and immediately realised that he'd seen her indulging Hangman's flirtation.

She initially didn't think anything of it. They'd not really talked about what they'd do when he left- she assumed he didn't care so much.

But he looked dejected by it, when he saw her notice him, he looked away quickly, trying to hide it. There was a sort of disgruntled surprise about him.

The smile fell from (y/n)'s face. She breathed deeply and put one back on as she finished serving.

About ten minutes later, she was mainly done with the pilots and other regulars- there weren't many needing served, and her co-worker was managing it. She decided to go and grab something from the storeroom out back. She crossed the room and pushed through a door. She flipped the light on and went to a shelf, looking through for what she wanted and tidying a little.

It was only a minute she could have been in there before she heard the squeak of the door.

She turned, her co-worker wouldn't leave the bar unattended- they weren't irresponsible.

She looked up to find Bradley.

"Hey?" She asked, confused.

He said nothing, just moved to her and put a hand on her waist, the other to the small of her back- his fingertips pressed forcefully into her skin.

She flushed as he looked down at her.

"Rooster-" She stuttered and spoke under her breath- a little taken aback by the usually polite and courteous pilot's behaviour, but not put off.

"Don't flirt with that ass-" He spoke, his voice deep and words slow, a little desperate, almost moaning, and then pressed his lips hungrily to her neck and collarbone.

She flushed pink and squirmed- not because she was uncomfortable- quite the opposite.

"I wasn't flirting-" She whined, making sure he knew she didn't want him to stop by grabbing ahold on that pretty uniform of his and pulling him closer.

"Looked like you were-" He spoke into her, a low sort of growling tone to it. She shook her head.

"Mmm- No..." She almost whimpered, which he could feel through her, as he kissed her and held her tighter, lifting her shirt slightly and his fingertips tracing under the edge of the waistline of her jeans. She slid her hands up to his cheeks and guided his kisses up her neck, until she could kiss his jaw sloppily.

"You sure about that?" He spoke slowly as her hands settled on the nape of his neck and shoulder, then graduated to kissing her lips. He could taste her vanilla lip balm and the drink she had picked up with the money.

Cherry coke.

She nodded and smiled as she kissed him back, dug her nails into his shoulder and pushed her body against his.

"You-" He spoke, pulling away just breifing before kissing her again. "You're mine." His voice was still desperate, but now equally commanding, knowing, deep and growling. It was a statement, not a question.

After another few seconds, he pulled away. He looked at her right in the eyes- observed her chest heave up and down as she got her breath back, the pinkness spread over face and body, the look on her face that begged for more, he felt her tight grip on him- and smirked.

He pulled away without another word and left her flustered and turned on in the store room.

Jealousy really was a beast.

She turned and grabbed what she had needed, or what she thought she needed, she didn't really remember at that moment, and ran a hand through her hair before returning to behind the bar.

She was stunned, didn't speak a word for a moment.

She heard the music stop abruptly, the jukebox unplugged.

"One last time? For old times' sake?" She heard him ask cheerily to his classmates. There was a cheer. He sounded so calm, so normal and cheery- like he hadn't just done what he had.

Quickly she heard the opening lines of the song she knew so well now.

She quickly left the bar behind her, and was wading through the crowd.

He wasn't getting away with it.

He wanted her to be his? Well he could certainly have that. He wanted other people not to hit on her- well then they better know about it.

She slowly got through the crowd, and just at the right moment- just as he finished the piano bit and reached the penultimate verse.

'Kiss me baby!' He sang, and turned his head for a second to the crowd who surrounded him. He saw her and smiled.

He leant down and kissed him, cupping his cheek in her hand. One of his hands left the piano and sat breifly on her waist, before pulling her in and onto his lap and returning to the keys.

'ooh- that feels good baby!' She sang with the crowd as she pulled away from the kiss. Impressively he'd not stopped playing, but was sat with a smirk on his face and just couldn't sing.

'Hold me baby!' She put her arms around his neck and grinned, looking at him as he looked right back up at her. 'I wanna love you like a lover should! You're so fine! So kind! I wanna tell the world that you're mine, mine, mine!" She laughed and sang, throwing her head back as the crowd cheered.

They sang the last verse together, and finally at the end- as a cheer went up, she pulled him in for one, proper, soft kiss. A real lover's kiss.

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

Tag List: (Comment/ask on masterlist to be added)

@gh0strr @sarahstar11 @sparrows-corner @piscesvancouverite @n3ssm0nique @sydneejean @20th-centu-fairy-girl @chaoticassidy @yjwnoot @hockeyboysarehot @inglourious-imagines

#fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #nick bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #goose #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooser #rooser x reader #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob #rooster #top gun maverick #topgun #top gun #top gun fic #jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin #pete maverick mitchell #maverick #pete mitchell

[somber-sapphic]

Of Misery and Murders

〖Notes: This is my CM series that I have over on my Ao3, but I figured that some of you over here might enjoy it as well!〗

〖Summary: Emily gets sick at the same time a deranged killer starts cutting up faces in Seattle Washington.〗

〖Word Count: 1.4k〗

〖Pairing: Jemily〗

〖WARNINGS: Guys. I cannot stress this enough, this is a casefic. I have created a serial killer and I am going into detail. Nothing will happen to our main characters, but there will be descriptions of blood/death. Please don't read if this is something that bothers you. It is purely plot related and (unrelated I suppose) this is an ongoing series.〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Emily ignored the fuzzy numbers on the thermometer’s screen and put the device away, resolving to take four Advil and take a double dose of non-drowsy cold medicine. She understood that the idea was a bad one, but she had to get through the day. There were mountains of paperwork and JJ had hinted at an incoming case that they would need all hands on deck. 

The brunette bundled herself in a thick sweater and wrapped a scarf around her neck before taking one last glance in the mirror. She had done her best to cover the high flush on her cheeks and blend out the dark circles, but there was no denying it: she looked awful. 

Emily almost fell asleep twice in the fifteen minutes it took for her to get to the BAU and she was starting to wonder if her decision to come to work had been a bad one. No, she was just doing what she needed to do. She was going to work, part of daily life. No damn cold would take her out of the game. She was a Prentiss and Prentiss’s don’t show weakness. 

She stumbled into the BAU five minutes late (she had somehow forgotten how to get there halfway through the drive) and ran straight into Garcia. The tech analyst squeaked as her files spilled onto the floor and she dropped to the ground, scurrying to pick them up. Emily tried to make herself do the same, but her body just wasn’t replying to her brain's commands. 

The brunette simply watched as her friend collected the papers, struggling to get her limbs to respond. When Penelope stood back up, her hair a bit out of place she frowned deeply and reached out to touch Emily’s cheek. The profiler managed to take a step away before the hand could connect and forced her political smile onto her lips. 

“Oh my love, you don’t look so good.” She said, her voice full of concern. 

“M’fine Pen. Didn’t get any sleep last night.” The brunette chuckled, trying to ignore the slight congestion littering her voice. Plus, she wasn’t lying. The persistent cough and aches in her bones had kept her up for most of the night. 

“Okay, but that really doesn’t explain the scarf, Em. We’re barely into October, it's not that cold yet.” She pressed, not willing to let her concern go. Garcia could tell that her friend wasn’t feeling well, not only was it obvious, but she also had sort of a sixth sense for telling what was wrong with the people she loved. 

“Drop it, Garcia.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. It felt like there were fire ants crawling over her skin and she was regretting the extra cold medicine. Her mind was already fuzzy with fever and the medication wasn’t helping. 

The blonde took her shoulders, eyes flooded with worry. It was that look that told Emily that she wasn’t going to win this one, not with Penelope anyway. 

“I took DayQuil. It’s just a cold.” Emily murmured, rubbing her nose on her sleeve. She sniffled heavily and aimed a sneeze into her elbow which certainly didn’t help her case. The sneeze sounded sickly and didn’t give her any relief from the congestion, in fact, it just made it worse. 

“That is not just a cold. You need-”

“Garcia! We can’t start without you to present!” Hotch snapped, yelling across the bullpen. His glare was full of impatience, and he sounded as though he would rip them in two if they didn’t hurry. Emily started forward but leaned heavily against a desk, a wave of dizziness crashing over her. 

“You are so going home.” The blonde grumbled, taking Emily’s wrist. The exhausted woman didn’t protest, no one could see them anyway it didn’t matter. Plus, Garcia was keeping her balanced. 

Emily found herself being dragged into the round table room, the tech analyst only dropping her arm when she knew that they would be seen. Hotch was staring at his watch impatiently, but his expression turned to one of mild concern when he saw his shivering profiler. 

“Jeez Em, you look like shit.” Morgan commented, wrinkling his nose in a playful way. 

“Bite me.” she said in return, plopping down in a chair as far away from him as possible. She pulled the chair close to the table and wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to conserve heat. Reid gave her a sideways glance and scooched away, probably worried about the germs. Emily really couldn’t blame him; she was probably a germ fountain. 

“Prentiss, why are you here?” Hotch questioned, sounding genuinely appalled. He had a strict policy when it came to working while sick: you couldn’t. It put everyone involved in danger and he was sure to remind them all of that every flu season. His agents never listened to him, and it always turned into a lecture in which he could usually get them to leave. 

“I work here Hotch. You hired me. Well, you didn’t fire me.” she replied, as sarcastic as ever. Her boss raised his eyebrow, slightly astonished that she was being so argumentative. He sighed as he studied her appearance, taking in the excess makeup and slight shivering. 

“Go home, come back when you’ve been fever free for 24 hours. Garcia, present.” He dismissed her so quickly that Emily wasn’t quite sure that it had happened. The brunette stiffened at the comment, her resolve hardening. She would not go home over this shit, it was a head cold, not the plague. 

“No. There’s a case, it is my job to work cases and catch killers. I don’t see you bowing out over a sore throat and the sniffles.” She snapped back, leaning forward in challenge. The two stared at each other for about fifteen seconds, before Hotch backed off, rolling his eyes in frustration. 

“Fine. Penelope, go.” 

All Emily could really say about the case was that there was someone in Seattle Washington stealing eyeballs, cutting off ears and noses and dumping bodies in the ocean. She didn’t know what the deal was with facial features, but he seemed to hate them. 

“Dehumanizing his victims?” she asked, feeling the need to add her input. He definitely wouldn’t let her stay if she was useless to the team, she had to provide some sort of use. Reid nodded his agreement and gave her another little glance. 

“Or maybe a fetish. There are no other wounds on the body, just the face. Do they know what he poisoned them with?”

“I don’t think we can assume the killer was a male yet, there were no signs of sexual assault and poisoning is most typically done women. The disfigurement of the face could be linked to jealousy, it would go with the dehumanization aspect.” JJ added, cutting Garcia off before she could answer. 

“Sorry Pen, go ahead.” She apologized, quickly realizing what she had done. The perky blonde flashed her a smile and shook her head. 

“Not to worry, sugarplum. It seems that the Unsub is using Arsenic as their poison of choice. Any other questions, my dears?” Penelope was great at acting cheerful while showing them awful images. It was probably because she never faced the screen. 

“That’s all. Wheels up in thirty. Prentiss, stay back for a moment.” Hotch ordered, watching as they all hurried out. No one wanted to see the conversation between the two of them. 

Emily stood and faced him, arms crossed in front of her. She was standing in an almost fighting stance, trying to look slightly intimidating. It was hard to take her seriously with the runny nose and tired eyes. If Hotch was being honest with himself, he truly wanted to take her home and ensure that she rested. He truly cared about his team; their wellbeing was incredibly important to him. 

“Look Prentiss, I won’t make you stay behind, but only because we need all hands-on deck for this one. In any other situation, you would be suspended for this disobedience. Understand?” He asked, matching her stance. Part of her wanted to argue, but she really couldn’t think of a reason for it. It was just her stubborn streak and her fever clouded mind. 

“Understood. May I go sir?” She swiped her fist across her drippy nose and waited for the sharp nod that meant she could stumble back to her desk and lean for a few seconds while she pretended to rifle through her go-bag. 

She sagged against her desk and took a wheezy breath, wondering why the stupid medicine wasn’t working. The brunette let herself sit there for a few seconds then steeled herself against the dizziness, preparing for what was sure to be a long week. 

〖Join My Taglist!〗 @lots-of-pockets @bloomingflowersthings @lovelyy-moonlight @scrambled-brain-eggs @juststuckhereforever @chairhere @iliketozoneout @villaneve4life @goldenempyrean

#fever #sick fanfic #sick fanfiction #sickfic #fanfiction #sicknario #ill #illness #caretaking #fainting #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfction #criminal minds sickfic #criminal minds #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau #cm fanfic #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia #hurt/comfort #jemily #jemily fanfiction #jj x emily #jennifer jareau x emily prentiss #criminal minds case #casefic #major tw

[sebsxphia]

Hey sebby angel,

I realized after I sent you the very rushed ask (more like statement, my apologies) about Jake being Lavender Haze coded, that I didn't explain anything. I dropped that thought and split like the devil(I was walking into work, but still).

So my thought: Jake Seresin is Lavender Haze coded (idk if anyone has thrown this thought around but I listened to Lavender Haze bc of a tik tok and that blonde himbo popped up into my head)

My reasoning:

I feel like Jake is from a well off Texas socialite family (oil money or something). He's always had these huge expectations on his shoulders. Go to college, get married, take over the business, and pop out an heir or two. Love doesn't matter, it's all business in the end.

That isn't Jake. While he feels like he's too young (he's just about a HS graduate here in this time line) for marriage and kids, he knows what he doesn't want. He doesn't want the stiff politeness his parents have. He doesn't want his potential children to fear seeking him out for anything. He doesn't go to his parents for anything. Instead of going to college he goes to the flight academy which causes a rift between him and his family. I think during this time Hangman is created as a mask. He plays the mister "love them and leave em," too cool to settle down. He does this rinse and repeat until after the mission. (Actually I feel like he's starting to slow down and re-think a lot of stuff regarding his life when the mission is announced but that's another thesis in itself).

He meets you. (Maybe at the Hard Deck or on base, idk) You sneak in under his defences until it's too late and you're all over his heart and I think he panics when he realizes he loves you. He's never loved anyone like this before and I think he tries to rapidly destroy everything around y'all so you know how bad of an idea it actually is to love him. (It's not but generational trauma sucks). The fear of settling catches up to him again bc "no deal, the 1950s shit the want from me." He just wants to stay in the "lavender haze" y'all have created. Drown in all the endorphins you're flooding his senses with. This space where he felt like he could start letting Jake through and let you see through the shell he wore but it wasn't so serious he felt "trapped."

He doesn't expect you to stay. To be persistent about your love and how you want to meet him in the middle. You don't care for societal expectations. You just want him to be happy and healthy in your life. Even if that means going back to friends. I don't think you'd tolerate him playing with your emotions bc he's insecure but I think you know enough about Jake to know why he's like this. I think you and Javy sit down and talk to him. (He has had issues accepting the unconditional love Javy gives him too).

(I know I'm missing plot points, I apologize)

Idk in the end I think he realizes he can stay in the lavender haze, doesn't have to get married, do the kids thing if he doesn't want to. But he can put down roots, find a home in you. He doesn't want to love and leave you.

(thank you for listening to my Ted talk)

Xo,

Beck 💚

BECK!!!!!!!!!!! i’m so in awe of this masterpiece that you’ve created and i’m absolutely hanging off every word! 🥹🥰

I think during this time Hangman is created as a mask. He plays the mister "love them and leave em," too cool to settle down. He does this rinse and repeat until after the mission. (Actually I feel like he's starting to slow down and re-think a lot of stuff regarding his life when the mission is announced but that's another thesis in itself).

so firstly, this! yes! the mask of hangman being created is absolutely something jake would do to protect himself from harm and i’ve always believed this is how jake is. he’s tough hangman on the outside, but gooey, soft and vulnerable jake on the inside. but the mission thesis is something i’m SO into! he gets incredibly close to his squad and let’s down his guard ever so slightly in the lead up to the mission, that he thinks, “maybe i can let myself love. at least for these guys. because i think i love them.”

He just wants to stay in the "lavender haze" y'all have created. Drown in all the endorphins you're flooding his senses with. This space where he felt like he could start letting Jake through and let you see through the shell he wore but it wasn't so serious he felt "trapped."

THIS RIGHT HERE IS POETRY BECK! 🥺 he found this lavender haze, this sweet spot, this daze, and he felt safe for the first time in his entire life.

I think you and Javy sit down and talk to him. (He has had issues accepting the unconditional love Javy gives him too).

REAL! going back to my first point, i couldn’t agree more with this!

Idk in the end I think he realizes he can stay in the lavender haze, doesn't have to get married, do the kids thing if he doesn't want to. But he can put down roots, find a home in you. He doesn't want to love and leave you.

yes, yes, yes! and i’ve always believed that you and jake would never have a traditional relationship, and it would be whatever you find works for you both.

goddddd beck! i’m so incredibly in love with this idea! thank you so, so much for blessing me with your beautiful and wonderful mind and thought! mwah mwah mwah! ilysm! 🥹🥰💗🫶🏼

#💌you’ve got mail #beck-things <33 #💐 these are for you!! #jake hangman seresin #sebs masterlist

[piratesexmachine420]

For your 200 word rpg, I have a few questions about the rules that couldnt be addressed in the 200 word limit:

What does "engaging in backroom deal making" mean? Are players allowed to trade cards?

Do you have to play a card from the suit you represent?

When drawing, do you have to draw from the four cards revealed at the start of the round?

When the four cards are revealed at the start of a round, does it have to be one card from each suit or just four cards?

Thanks for the questions!

"engaging in backroom deal-making" -- my intention when writing was for this to be purely about verbal agreement/debate (whenever friends and I play anything strategy-heavy we end up spending half our playtime in the bathroom making alliances and secret plans out-of-earshot from the other players, and I wanted to capture some of that) ...but I don't think it's against the spirit of the game to allow card trading. Though, if you go that route, there's no rules in place to cover a situation where it's someone's turn and they don't have any cards. Ultimately, it's up to you.

Nope! You can play a card from whatever suit you want. Maybe you need to help another player to hinder a strong opponent, or you just plain don't have any cards of your suit.

When drawing a card, it should be from those revealed at the start of the round. My hope here is to make things more cut-throat, or at least cause more hurt feelings. That's politics, baby!

Just draw from the top of the deck. There might not be a card for your faction! Or, worse still, there might be one... and another player might scoop it up instead. That's when it's time for secret plans and quid-pro-quo. Maybe you'll convince someone to play for you, if you play for them. Maybe you're just SOL. Who knows!

I haven't had an opportunity to play-test yet, so the balance is definitely screwy. At minimum:

Those victory conditions are way too high for four players and a single deck of cards. They're left over from an earlier draft and I completely forgot to revise 'em.

I tried to write the rules such that you could have any number of players, not just four, but things get kinda weird if you do. Especially if there's more than four -- the deck just runs out too fast.

The rules don't prohibit everyone from just all picking the same faction, which might not be very fun.

I'd recommend either using multiple decks shuffled together or halving the thresholds for victory/defeat, and to not let any faction have more than [total number of players] / 4 + 1 representatives.

All in all, take it as a proof-of-concept. ...and ignore my spelling mistakes. :P

#my thoughts #tumblr 200 word rpgs 2023

[sailsonaseaoffate]

DWC February -  Day 7: Recovery

@daily-writing-challenge​

"Oy, let em know chow's ready," Zexx grunted as he set the heavy cauldron down in the center of the main deck of the Wayfarer.  Rey letting out a groan as she stood up and limped over to the passage leading into the hold to let out a scream into the depth of the ship.

"Soups on!"  Rey yelled once, twice, and three times before limping back toward her father.  She looked a mess after the entanglement with raiders recently, patched burns crisscrossing her face, arms, and neck to match a harpoon she took to the calf.  Zexx could only chuckle as he felt a kinship in the beating she took, he likely should be a bit more worried since his daughter could have well died but he could tell by the hungry look on her face the soup was going to do wonders for her.

"Thanks, dad," Rey said with a grin as she breathed in the spicy scent of the chicken and hominy soup, her limp carrying a bit of a skip as she made for a crate to sit and eat.

Gendry and Eld came up next, the older man helping the much younger man up as the thin metal stilts supported him but had yet to be fully utilized for him and his wounded body.  Gen smiled to his father as he saw the cauldron and continued to take shaky steps with Eldridge across the deck, soon finding another arm sweeping under him to support him from Rey.  "I got him, pops."

Usually the old man would grunt and scowl at being called something far to close to home, but at the moment he just nodded wearily as he let the younger Candell take over with her brother.  Standing up straight with a wince as he rubbed his back to hobble toward Zexx and the cook pot, his face weary and bearing similar burns to Rey from the chase the other day.  Accepting the bowl with a grunt of thanks as he made for a spot on the steps to the deck, a dark shadow pacing him in silence before laying before his partner as Eld began to eat.

From above in the solar masts came the circling form of a black bird, fitting to be so much like her grandfather but look like her father Gwynn's form shifted from bird to human without missing a beat.  She was getting stronger and more capable as the months had passed since they came to this universe.  The amount of energy and power she had had to control to get them out of the Shadowlands to the great beyond should have driven a normal person mad.  Her own mismatched eyes looked into the opposite of her in the face of Zexx as she accepted a bowl of soup with a smile.  "Thank you, father."

Zexx would nod to Gwynn as he watched her move to sit with her siblings and listen to them talk, her face quiet for the most part as she listened to Rey prattle and Gen reply in kind before being fed bites of soup himself.  The hero for hire's heart ached for the young man, but also swelled to see him face such adversity with patience and strength. The days wouldn't always be like this, but for now he'd hope more like today for Gen.

Lumbering forth from the hold would come Madame Eloise Granville, stretching her form with a grunt as who knew how many vertebrate popped to resound in the air.  The giff nodded to Zexx with the humor in her eyes, but raised a hand in polite refusal to the food as she found a place to rest.  Her thick hands unhitched her guitar from her belt before adjusting the strings and board with a nod as the notes grew tighter.

"Gonna give us a song tonight, Madame Granville?" Zexx asked as he stirred the contents with a nod to the steam as it drifted up from the iron pot.

Eloise gave a tilt of her head as she answer.  "Indeed, Captain.  I figured it best to earn my keep while aboard your ship."

"Just nothing too loud, please."  As the prodigal daughter emerged from the hold at last, Xaya looking just as bad as her sister and grandfather as she fiddled with a few bandages about her neck.  "My head is killing me."

"I'll see what I can do, Miss Candell," Eloise replied with that familiar flash to her eyes as she rested the guitar in her lap.

Zexx fished another bowl up and ladled out the soup for Xaya as she arrived.  "Yer late."

"There's seven of us," Xaya answered with an eye roll as she took the bowl.  "It's not a dwarven chow hall."

"Have you seen Rey eat?"  Zexx grinned to his eldest daughter, who for almost a second gave a smile back much like his before it quickly dropped away.

"Thank you, dad," Xaya added quietly as she went to have a seat near the railing giving the finger back to Rey as she passed as the younger Candell had heard the joke at her expense.  Rey still raising it as she yelped up to her feet to come back to the cauldron.

"Got some more?"

"Plenty for ya, kiddo."  Zexx smiled as he scooped out another serving for her as Eloise began to gently pluck away at her guitar under the starlit sky of Teetolar in the great empty of Wildspace and beyond.

#februarydwc2023 #februaryday72023 #zexx candell #rey candell #gendry candell #eldridge candell #gwynn candell #eloise granville #Xaya Candell #spelljammer #sailors on a sea of fate #roleplay #https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sailsonaseaoffate

[sylvanfreckles]

No. 16: Bad Luck

Part 16 of Deck the Hells

Fandom: Critical Role Rating: T Warnings: violence, kidnapping, verbal abuse

Summary: Fresh Cut Grass is very nearly abducted. Good thing they remembered everything they've learned from their friends…including when to ask for help. (Read on AO3)

...

“Well, well. This must be my lucky day.”

Fresh Cut Grass stopped, not wanting to run the orc woman over. “Oh! Uh…smiley day to ya?”

She smiled, gold-capped tusks gleaming in the sunlight. “And who might you be, little one?”

“Why, I’m Fresh Cut Grass. And who are you?” they risked a glance around for any of their friends, but they were all alone at the moment. The others had scattered to different corners of the market.

“Are you just the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen?” the woman asked, crouching down to get a better look at them. “You can call me Bela.”

“Nice to meet you, Bela,” Fresh Cut Grass stuck out a hand, but the orc woman took it to examine instead of shaking it. “Well, I’d better go.”

“Not so soon,” Bela crooned. She tapped the casing on their right arm and flexed the joint. “You’re a marvel, aren’t you? Who was your maker?”

Imogen had taught them about this. Fresh Cut Grass gently pulled their arm out of the woman’s grasp. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with this line of questioning, Ma’am.”

She laughed. “Not comfortable? Don’t be silly. It’s just a simple question.” She reached out again, hands on either side of their face, tilting it this way and that to study. “I really must know more about this design. Who is your master?”

Ashton had taught them about this, too. “I don’t have one,” they declared proudly. “I’m my own being.”

“Really, now?” Bela’s smile deepened. “We both know that can’t be.”

“I’m gonna ask you to remove your hands from my person,” Fresh Cut Grass said, still keeping their voice polite. It wasn’t worth causing a scene here.

“Your person?” the woman laughed again. “You’re not a person, little one. You’re a machine. An object.”

Well, now they really weren’t comfortable with this conversation. Chetney had taught them something about this, but they weren’t ready to choose violence. “Well, you’re welcome to your opinion on that subject. If you’ll excuse me, I really must be off.”

“You just said you didn’t have a master, so where could you be rushing off to?”

“My friends are waiting for me.”

Bela smiled. She was smiling an awful lot, and it didn’t necessarily seem nice. She was showing a lot of teeth when she smiled. “How could something like you have friends?”

Ah, right. Laudna had taught them about this. “Well, to start, I’m a someone not a something.”

“Oh, of course you are.” With a nod, Bela slid a hand behind their shoulders and gently directed them out of the flow of traffic. Fresh Cut Grass went along with the momentum, if only to maintain the conversation.

“And friends are, you know, friends. You make ‘em yourself.”

“You poor thing,” Bela simpered. There was a sparkle to her words that shot right down into their central processer. “You should understand that they’re not your friends. Not really.”

They were pretty sure Dorian had taught them about this. Fresh Cut Grass concentrated, trying to follow the thread of Bela’s words. It was hard, but they managed to shake off the charm that was winding its way deeper into their being.

“That wasn’t very nice,” they said, blinking up at the orc woman. “I really have to go now.”

They tried to wheel away, but she put an arm in front of them, pushing them even further back into a nearby doorway. “You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered. Her voice was smooth and slick, nearly sapping the strength out of their body. “I’m sure you’re worth a lot of money to someone.”

Maybe it was time to try what Fearne had taught them. The flap on their chest popped open, and a gout of Sacred Flame scorched up Bela’s arm. She gave a shout of alarm and jumped back, then her face twisted in anger as she yanked a heavy cudgel off her belt.

“Fine. We do this the hard way,” she growled, shoving Fresh Cut Grass back into the room behind them. The cudgel came down, and though they tried to block the blow with one arm it was still strong enough to knock them over. Bela kicked them over, wrenched an arm behind their back. “You’re worth less as pieces, but a platinum’s a platinum,” she snarled in their ear.

All right. Orym had taught them about this.

Fresh Cut Grass took a deep breath—or at least what passed for breath with their kind. “Help!” they screamed as loud as they could, sending out an accompanying blast of psychic fear. “Somebody help! I’m being kidnapped!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bela backhanded them, but that seemed to hurt her hand more than their face.

“Ashton!” Fresh Cut Grass yelled. They managed to wiggle away from Bela, but she tackled them before they could get to the door. “Orym! Anybody! Help me!”

A hard blow to the back of the head stunned them for a moment, and Bela yanked them further back into the room. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll dismantle you now.”

If they’d had a heart, it would be pounding. As it was, that little coil of stress inside was winding tighter and tighter and tighter. They were afraid it would snap, and they’d become a monster again, and who knew what kind of damage they’d wreak with no one to stop them. They didn’t want to kill Bela, but they had to stop her before they cracked.

No one had taught them about this. The stress was winding tighter and tighter as Bela fought them. She was so much stronger, and every time they tried to call for help she just hit them. They tried to calm down, but that just seemed to leave an opening for her to hurt them again.

There was nothing they could do.

They closed their eyes in despair…when vines erupted from the ground to wrap around Bela and haul her away.

“FCG?” Fearne catapulted into the room, Mister shrieking on her shoulder. “Oh dear. Are you okay?”

They accepted her hand to be pulled onto their wheel, but she lifted them all the way into her arms to rest against her hip. “I think I’m okay,” they replied in a small voice.

“Well, you don’t look it,” Fearne replied. She was glaring down at Bela, who was still struggling with the vines. “What exactly were you doing to my friend?”

“Friend,” Bela spat. “You don’t make friends with things like that.”

Fearne glared at her, bouncing Fresh Cut Grass against her hip. “Well, that’s just your opinion. And it’s wrong.”

“Listen here, you—”

The faun raised her free hand, flinging a scorching ball of flame into Bela’s chest, knocking her back against the wall. “Do not talk to me or my friend ever again,” she replied.

“You poor thing,” she added, carrying Fresh Cut Grass out into the sunshine. It was much nicer when she said it, they decided. Comforting. Spoken like someone who wanted to take care of them, not just pity them. “Let’s go find Ashton, and we can watch them beat that woman up.”

They might have tried to dissuade her—Bela had probably suffered enough, and Ashton could be ruthless—but it felt nice to know they were surrounded by people who cared so much. “Thanks for saving me back there, Fearne.”

“Oh, anytime,” she replied, hugging them closer. “That’s what friends do.”

#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember2022 day16 #bad luck #kidnapping #violence #verbal abuse #critical role #campaign 3 #bell's hells #fanfic #fresh cut grass #fearne calloway #poor fcg #they're a person not a thing! #they have a soul and everything! #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #deus ex fearne #fearne ex machina?

[gunchamber]

em literally just decks the motherfucker that tries to hit on krissy . . . that's HER girl maybe probably

𝐊𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐘𝐃 ? / * @minimavampiress

                𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃  𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘  𝐁𝐄  𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄      obvious  contempt  that  pursed  tiers  tightly  together  ,    not  even  bothering  with  the  facade  of    FAKE  POLITENESS    to  spare  the  roach  his  dignity  .    krissy  has  tried  playing  nice  with  their  kind  in  the  past  ,    it  never  really  did  end  in  her  favor  .    so  even  with  the  stranger’s    INCESSANT    pestering  ,    a  narrowed  stare  is  avoidant  looking  everywhere  in  the  dingy  bar  except  their  face  .    she’d  only  desired  a  few  drinks  with  her    not    NOT    girlfriend  .    spare  time  only  came  around  so  often  for  them  to  spend  it  together  .    when  the  opportunity  presents  itself  to  be  able  to  hang  out  with  emma  forbes  ,    krissy  chambers  wouldn’t  have  passed  it  up  for  anything  .                    cold  drink  is  pressed  to  her  temple  in  attempts  to  ease  the  brewing  headache  that  magically  started  when  the  sound  of  this  person’s  grating  voice  assaulted  her  ears  .    an  audible  groan  had  just  started  to  bubble  up  ,    crawling  up  the  path  of  her  tongue  when  the  sound  of    BONE  CRUNCHING    under  unknown  impact  halted  the  male  in  the  midst  of  his  unimpressive  spiel  .    head  jerks  just  catching  the  sight  of  woman  with  sun  bleached  strands  protectively  standing  in  between  krissy    &    the  guy  who  now  held  his  nose  .    posture  curling  over  as  he  shouted  some    OBSCENITIES  .    there’s  not  a  single  molecule  in  the  huntress’  body  that  felt  an  urgency  to  check  to  see  if  he’s  okay  .    doesn’t  fucking  care  .                    when  emma  turns  to  give  her  brunette  counterpart  a  raise  of  her  brows  ,    krissy  feels  a  stir  in  the  pit  of  her  stomach  ,    a  flutter  of  sorts  as  the  other  inches  closer  into  her  space  .    she’s  able  to  smell  her  drink  of  choice  on  her  breath  ,    could  probably  taste  it  on  her  lips  too  if  she  dared  to  kiss  her  .    ❛    guess  this  is  the  part  where  i  should  say  thank  you  ?    ya  know  ,    for  sticking  to  the  bit  of  heroic  girlfriend  coming  to  my  rescue  ?    ❜    when  coffee  colored  hues  roll  at  the  dramatics  ,    it  pulls  a  quiet  giggle  from  krissy  that  was  meant  for  emma’s  ears  to  hear  only  .    ❛    i  just  hope  you  weren’t  expecting  any  sexual  favors  for  your  good  deeds  ,    because    i’m  not  that  kind  of  girl  .    ❜    oh  ,    with  the  way  teeth  dig  into  plush  bottom  lip    &    how  eyes  darken  you  could  say  krissy    DID    intend  on  thanking  her  emma  .    one  way  or  another  .

#❛ ic. ask ┊╳ answered ask . #❛ v2. 009 ┊╳ committed to the bit ( emma forbes ) . #( minimavampiress. ) #minimavampiress #/ icb krissy woke up so much for this #/ she really said AND MY BABY DID THAT #/ FOR ME

[becomeawendybird]

4, 5 & 18 for the weird asks, pls and thank youuuuu!! If those do not spark joy for any reason, swap ‘em out for whatever you’d like better!! xox

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Using “overwhelm” as a noun. One popular writer that was formerly of this fandom did it in every fic and then it spread. Like a disease. It is a verb please use it as such.

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

I don’t necessarily know if they would classify as superstitions, but I do sometimes have to change what I’m listening to when I’m writing because it doesn’t match the vibe and I’m worried it will bleed into my writing. Especially when it’s historical!

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. 

Okay so this question is actually hilarious. It’s this passage in my girl direction Navy/Wave sequel where Harry is bringing her ~toys back to the air craft carrier:

Louis signaled for one of the crew to unload [Harry’s] bags from the cargo and led her into the main carrier where the bags would need to be searched. Harry was giving nothing away, but Louis was absolutely shitting a brick worried that she would have to explain Harry’s sex toys. The guys were going to tell the rear admiral and then Harry would need to use them with him, and Louis was either getting dumped or fired in the next five minutes, she was sure.

“Harry, you’re about to be checked,” she whispered when the din quieted down enough that they could talk.

“I know,” Harry replied. As though she hadn’t implied she was taking a whole trip ashore just for a strap-on earlier.

Harry calmly put her bags up on the table and stepped to the side so she could be patted down. The suitcases were the fancy hard sided travel cases, and the guys were thorough, checking over everything.

A male officer patted her down politely while Harry blatantly flirted with him, distracting him enough that he was pretty quick about it. Louis knew it was irrational given that Harry had a whole fiancé, but Louis was irrationally jealous watching her flirt with the soldiers in the search area.

She did her best to keep her Navy mask on while she waited for the whole process to be over, and only breathed a sigh of relief when the boys said all of Harry’s luggage—three suitcases in all—was good to go.

Basically what happened was, I wrote the first one and wrote this idea of them hooking up more while Harry was aboard but no one had anything useful for that (did they need that? no, but Harry seemed like she wanted it when I wrote it so I put it in... pun mildly intended). Then I wrote the second chapter of the first one pretty quickly, but in the meantime I got super interested in how an aircraft carrier works and discovered that the security is very intense because everything is intentional on the boat even though its a giant floating city and anything even the tiniest pebble on the runway can fuck up a bajillion dollar F-18 and the deck has to be completely swept before any takeoff or landing. 

So I had essentially written myself into a corner where Harry had to smuggle anything else they wanted to use onto the ship and commit Navy crimes, haha.

[grazhir]

Astro Colony [I Hate Myself]

That is the problem with these freakin' games. There's always a better way, right? Game save: 5.0 5551212 (iteration five, seed number).

Top deck, facing north, incomplete (no livestock yet) and I can't do sunflowers yet (nor do they have any use so far).

Glance into the "human" area. Six sleepers (stacked), six tables (because they can't just eat at the cafeteria thing), stairs up to the training facility and the upper row of sleepers. This is mirrored on the other side of the platform.

Just to the left is the west mining extension, then a research station. Also mirrored on the east side.

Training (two library, two training consoles) plus the upper sleeper stack.

Solar array (incomplete). I just docked a new planetoid with gold deposits (and have two more marked). I like solar because you place it and forget it. None of this, "Shit, I'm out of uranium rods. Where's the closest planetoid with some on it?"

I maybe need to go back a version or so on the auto-catcher stacks, though. Not best pleased with them hauling meteorites right through the decking on the "human" level.

And, of course, a look at the lower levels, which is a complete fucking mess and yet somehow works.

End view, facing north. Showing off my stonkin' huge water pool. I've decided I want a water TOWER in 6.0. Imma stack those fuckers, use glass walls (except at the corners) and link 'em together so I have a "water feature".

That "deck" has ice crushers, circular saws, and the third machine (the one that makes wires). One machine per output.

The absolute clusterfuck of smelters, fabricators, and conveyor belts. The auto-catchers feed into a large crate at the bottom north end (except for ice, which is diverted before it gets to that point), which distributes to the smelters (and in one or two cases, off to the buffer/output section).

I make liberal use of filter blocks to remind me what the hell a given conveyor is carrying, as well as more for each machine to tell me what I'm running belts to/from (input materials, output).

The "suspended" platform has the robot fabricator and a ladder.

An admittedly poor shot of the buffer/output crates, again with liberal use of filter blocks used as reminders of what is what. Buffer crates to the left (for building stuffs), output to the right for further fabrication.

The center belt runs north to south, with feeds coming in between the crates so I don't have a highway rush hour disaster in distribution.

Instead, I have a spaghetti mess of epic proportions, but it works! The only hiccup is over at the ore area (upper right) where there's some polite merging going on between eastward moving metal plates and southward moving carbon ore. But that's relatively minor, and after fiddling with the outputs on the large crate, the thing barely retains any material it gets pushed out that quickly.

Huge parts of the floors are missing, because I kinda have to get underneath to run conveyors, right? And odds are, if I keep this save, I'd just box in the sides with black walls so I don't have to see any of it.

But...

Of course. I already have ideas for a more efficient design when it comes to the buffer/output crates layout. Efficiency, yes.

I'll have to start a save in creative mode (I really wish there was a toggle to switch modes or stuff like "nocost") just to experiment with ideas.

Because starting over with this save is more trouble than it's worth. I'll just keep it as is and mine some damn gold.

#astro colony

[quaranmine]

okay this is kinda a bad take because you have to suspend your disbelief for Everything when it comes to the dream smp plot but sometimes I see yall debating government and politics of the server and I can't take it seriously because my brain just says ah yes. the country. the country with like FIVE citizens

of course they can't do anything about this because there's a limited amount of people on the server they just gotta roleplay with what they have but sometimes it's super funny when everybody is passionately debating, idk, like dictatorships or whatever as if everybody isn't literally neighbors with whatever character that is. Like I KNOW they have a plot to uphold but since it's a game everybody has the ability to grind and get decked out gear and just....leave and build whatever they want lol

#the living dsmp au fixes this but i still consider that an au so i don't include it when writing or reading analysis posts #like can you imagine the power I'd have if I'd been neighbors with trump and there was bo secret service #and i had all the abilities and gear that u can get in minecraft??? #politics over. just deck em #dream smp #does this post make sense? i just mean i cant take the super serious analyses seriously when they talk abt a country of 4 or 5 people lol #government works differently in this fantasy world. it has to cause minecraft inherently gives each person more power #the power to make whatever they need and build whatever they need #like bro idk how to make a sword but for them it's just another tuesday to make and use weapons #and i cant afford to or know how to make a house #but again. just another Tuesday for them #so when analyzing the political structure of the server....you GOTTA take that into account #i dont think anyone on the server can be oppressed the same way people are under real life governments #because they inherently have more power than we do in real life #dsmp #oh god i wrote m*necraft in some of my tag rambles i hope it doesn't show up in the maintag #i refuse to rewrite my tags though I'm in too deep. tumblr give me tag editing plssss

[seat-safety-switch]

When they hear the fire truck siren going off, most people have a sensation of dread. Something horrible has happened to one of their fellow citizens and these heroic civil servants are off to save the day. Not me, though. I know the truth.

The other day, I was making pancakes on my front deck (my stove is being used as an impromptu workbench and is covered in bits of of Puch Maxi carburetors) when I saw a fire truck amble slowly by. They were out doing their routine fire hydrant inspection, making sure that if a house ever burst into flames, they’d have enough pressure to make that fire slightly wet.

With a screech of air-assisted drum brakes, the truck pulled to a halt at the end of my street. A young firefighter jumped out and started to mess with the hydrant. Of course, he’d been told about me, judging from the evil eye he was sending in the general direction of the naked flame I was throwing flapjacks onto over my wood deck. I waved.

It was then that I saw the conspiracy unravel before me. A young father and his toddler daughter stopped in front of the truck. The tot was starstruck by the presence of her heroes, or maybe it was just the huge burbling diesel engine under the hood. Either way, the father asked politely that the truck “light ‘em up.” The junior firefighter smiled ear to ear, hopped back into the truck, and let the sirens and lights go bonkers for a good half a minute. It was so impressive I forgot to stomp out the flaming oil that was spilling out of the precariously-balanced wok on the railing of my deck (I had also been making fried eggs.)

Although you might think it was just out of sheer pettiness that they switched off the lights and siren before ambling the two houses down to my place in order to put out the fire, I know differently. They had no problem bothering my neighbours for the sake of a child, but there’s no way that siren isn’t just for showing off.

[matsbarzal]

fluff #12 with barzy :)

fluff #12. couldn't imagine my life without you

word count: 1.6k pairing: mat barzal x reader

Mathew Barzal knew how to throw a party. He knew what beer to get, he knew what food to order, the people to invite, Mat knew how to plan a party for his friends. God, he even knew how to plan a party for his family.

But, Mathew Barzal did not know how to plan an anniversary.

He had begged you for a hint, any indication of how you wanted to spend your two-year anniversary. The Islander’s forward would send you Pinterest links daily, Instagram posts when he found them, anything he could find that may encourage you to give him some hint of how you wanted to spend your special day.

You had planned the entire anniversary dinner the year prior, just something for the two of you, nothing serious or dramatic for your first anniversary together as a couple. Mat loved it, loved the privacy and the intimacy of the date you had planned, loved how much effort you put into him and the gift you bought him. It could have been a date to McDonald’s, and he still would’ve loved every second of it.

“Baby… do you like this resort? Tito said the Bahamas are beautiful this time of year, and him and Em stayed in this resort last summer.”

Taking the offered phone from his hand, you scrolled through the page on the screen. It was a gorgeous resort, a popular one from the looks of it, definitely a resort you wouldn’t necessarily mind getting the chance to visit one day.

“It’s gorgeous, but not for our anniversary. I don’t want you having to do anything extreme, Mat, honestly. Dinner and a movie would be perfect, as long as I get to spend the day with you.”

Pouting at you, his only response was a quick press of his lips to the side of your head before making his way back into the living room, mumbling under his breath something that you couldn’t hear.

Hearing your phone ding from beside you, you picked it up to peer at the message that appeared on the screen. Since when did Anthony text you?

Please say yes to something before I lose my mind. Mat can’t plan shit, and I can only replan your anniversary so many times. I’m begging, I have a life pls just say yes

Laughing at the text message on screen, your reply back was a simple shrug emoji. You knew Mat had been utilizing his best friend and his girlfriend, trying to plan the most perfect day for your anniversary, but you wanted Mat to plan something he’d enjoy, something that would make him just as happy as it would make you. And he knew that, but he was always one to put your feelings and your happiness above his own.

anything he plans will be perfect, go back to barking or sum tito

Two weeks had panned out in between Anthony and Mat bothering you for ideas, and the actual date of the anniversary. Since telling Tito that anything planned would be perfect, neither man had pestered you about it, opting to disregard any mention of the anniversary or the event in question.

You knew Mat had something planned, his phone slamming down on the couch whenever you passed behind him, or his laptop screen slamming shut every time you got close enough. You had debated sneaking around, trying to figure out what he had planned, but you didn’t want to ruin the surprise he had obviously worked so hard on.

“I planned everything down to the last little thing. Your outfit is on the bed in our room, we have to be ready to go by exactly 5:59, any earlier and we’ll be too early, any later and we’ll be late… and I can’t be late.”

Laughing at the rush of words ripping out of his mouth, you squeezed his arm gently as you moved past him and towards your shared bedroom, eyeing the outfit he had laid out on the bed for you. It was a cute outfit, completely your style, but you couldn’t determine any indication of what your boyfriend had planned from the outfit alone.

At precisely 5:59, you allowed Mat to usher you out the door and towards his car, mumbling about how ‘Tito was going to kill him if we were late’, which proceeded to confuse you even more.

“Plan on telling me where we’re going anytime soon?” Shaking his head, all Mat did was grin as he looked towards you.

You watched the houses go by the closer and closer you assumed you were getting to the destination, the area getting more and more familiar the further you drove. Pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of Mat putting the car in park, you eyed the familiar house to your left, a curious glint in your eyes.

“Anders?”

“You’ll see when we get in the backyard, I promise.”

Expecting to be surprised with a multitude of his teammates and your friends, you were shocked to see an empty backyard when Mat released the latch on the gate, the trees glistening in the wind as the almost-empty backyard stared right back at you. A table was placed in the middle of the patio stones, fairy lights wrapped around the edge, the patio chairs pulled out and awaiting the two of you, a bottle of champagne laid in a bucket of ice on the top of the table.

“Anders said I could use his backyard… ya know, cause like… our balcony doesn’t really have much space.”

Laughing in understanding at his words, you allowed him to guide you towards the table, pulling your chair back and then gently pushing you in once you were completely seated. He immediately jumped to the opposite seat, his chair squealing against the ground when he pushed himself in.

“I—”

“I can’t believe you made me buy a whole tuxedo for this, I swear to God, I could’ve done this in sweats.”

Swiveling your body around to look at the source of the voice, Anthony Beauvillier stared back at you, a large grin etched on his face. Decked out in full waiter-attire, and two adorning plates in his hand, you couldn’t contain the grin that slowly started to make its way across your face at the sight.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up, ha ha ha. Just wait until my anniversary, you two are going all out.”

A middle finger from Mat, and a polite thank-you on your behalf were the only responses to Anthony as he made his back towards the sliding doors of Anders Lee’s house, a pep in his step the closer he got to the glass.

Focused solely on the man in front of you, the conversation flowed like it always did, Mathew explaining how he had planned out the entire dinner, what food was going to be made, what dessert, the fact that there were still plans for after and that this was just the beginning. You talked about your day, the last year of your relationship, all the positive ways in which you both constantly demonstrated your love for one another.

You didn’t notice Mat’s hand reaching into the pocket of his coat, his utensils disposed of on the tablecloth in front of you, his palms sweaty as he tried to gently wipe them against his pants without alerting you to any movements.

“I… I wanted to talk to you about something,” quirking your eyes at the sound of his voice and the statement he made, you urged him to continue with a slight tilt of your head.

His chair squealed against the patio stones for the second time that night as he clumsily stood up from his chair, moving around the table so he could grab your hand and pull you from your seat.

“Y/N… I… you’ve been my best friend for the last two years. The person I could come to whenever I needed someone, the one who’s always there for me after a good day, or a bad day. The person who I can depend on for everything, there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t fall in love with you a little more. You stole my heart two years ago, and I have no regrets in the world about you, or my love for you.”

Trying to contain the tears that were threatening to fall, you watched as Mat’s knee dropped out below him, the hand that was in his pocket before now laid out in front of you, the closed jewelry box covering his palm.

“I promise you; no one will work harder to make you happy or cherish you more than I will. I’ll be the man you deserve and more, I know that no one will ever hold my heart the way you do, and I never want another person to. I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Y/N, will you marry me?”

You couldn’t keep the tears at bay as your hand slapped itself across your mouth, the shock and joy at his words taking over every fiber of your being as you aggressively nodded your head, the words muffled behind your hand as Mat’s eyes glistened with unshed tears in your direction.

“A million times, yes. Yes!”

His lips were pressed to yours in a heartbeat, his hand that wasn’t holding the jewelry box cupping your cheek as the tears fell from both of your eyes. His eyes opened to bore into yours, a look of joy etched across his face as he felt the emotions finally takeover.

note: this ended up being a bit more than a blurb... but oh well! thank you for sending one in, and i hope you like it!! <3

#mat barzal #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nhl drabble #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal drabble #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey blurb #hockey drabble #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal x reader #hockey imagine #nhl blurbs #nhl drabbles #hockey blurbs #hockey drabbles #dj's august prompt list

[timbertumbr]

Average (Ninjago Zane X Reader)

No spoilers. Just something I wrote. :)

Believe it or not, you’re the only average person aboard the bounty. No elemental powers, no crazy super intelligence, you’re just a normal human being that happens to know the Ninja. How you met is also pretty normal, you just came across the dojo in search of directions and now you live on the bounty. Sensei Wu was intrigued by you, even if you were normal and kept insisting as such. 

“Normal comes in different shapes and sizes, but it’s always based on interpretation. You may find yourself to be normal, but others may think differently,” That’s what he said which convinced you to join, that and the fact he muttered under his breath that the Ninja need more social interactions besides their own tight knit group.

The Ninja were a little wary at first, which is understandable after all they’ve been through. But they came around eventually. You help them out whenever and however you can. Usually it’s small things like doing a chore or making sure the equipment was cleaned and safe for the Ninja. 

And it hasn’t gone unnoticed, after you’re done with a chore or whatever you’re doing to help out, one of the Ninja comes up to you and asks if you want to watch them train or want to play video games with them. Ah, bonding experiences.

While you were reminiscing on how close you’ve gotten to the Ninja, you walked to the kitchen to see if you could find something to eat when you noticed the fridge and cabinets were practically bare. 

Taking out your phone, you begin writing a list of things you need before texting Jay that you’ll be going to the store. He sends you a thumbs up emoji in response. You pocket your phone and walk out onto the deck, hop over the side and tumble onto the top of a building. Just because you live with the ninja, doesn’t mean you are one. 

You get up, dust yourself off, open the roof top and walk down the stairs until you’re on the busy streets of Ninjago city. You open Google Maps and begin walking to the closest store. 

________

After around an hour and a half, you walked out of the store with a cartful of bags. You pull out your phone and begin texting Jay to come pick you up with the groceries when someone grabs you from behind, a hand covering your mouth. 

Fear flooded your system and you grabbed a hold of the assailants finger before pulling back on it HARD. A male scream rang through the parking lot as you slipped from his grasp and started running. You didn’t make it far before another person jumped out from the corner and swiftly punched you in the face. You stagger for a bit before your body hits the pavement and you soon lose consciousness. 

_________

You groan when you open your eyes and realize your body is stiff. You try to stretch but realize you're tied up. Great. And on top of that, a stinging pain is erupting from where you got punched. 

You look around and see that there’s a lot of people around. They’re all looking at you, so you can’t exactly try and figure out how to escape even if you wanted to. But you’re too terrified and shocked to be even thinking about escaping. 

In a matter of moments, a person emerges from the shadows of the dark room and approaches you with a grin. You could only stare in fear.

“Comfortable? I’d hope so since you’re our money bargain,” He taunted, so clearly he's the leader. Or maybe the right hand man? Again, you couldn’t tell. You swallow as best as you can and open your mouth to speak.

“Wh-What do you want?” You curse under your breath, stuttering and showing fear is what they want… But you can’t exactly help it. The people in the room begin cackling. 

“Sounds like someone’s not paying attention, ey gang? You’re a money ticket, and you’re also going to help us prove that we’re the only thing the ninja should care about,” He sneers while poking your forehead. Oh. OH. They’re THOSE kinds of bad guys, the overconfident ones. He backs away from you and looks to the others in the room. 

“Be on your guard, they ARE Ninja after all,” And with that he takes his leave. Okay, so this is good. It’s only a matter of time before the ninja find you. Either before or after the ransom call, it wouldn’t matter anyway. But… a small part of you worried they wouldn’t notice. 

You shake your head gently to get rid of those thoughts. They’d come. They always do. Your shaking slightly irritated your now bruising cheek which made you inhale sharply. A chorus of quiet chuckles scattered throughout the room.

Seconds pass, them minutes. You waited and waited… until you heard a wonderful sound. Something hitting one of the many gang members and them groaning in pain. You look around in hope.

“It’s the Ni- AGH!” They got kicked into the wall and got knocked out instantly. The entire room was filled with the sounds of fighting while you watched blurs fly around the room. In a matter of minutes, everyone was on the ground either groaning in pain or just flat out unconscious. 

“Y/N! Are you alright?!” Cole asks, taking off his hood and coming around to untie you while Zane looks around the room scanning their vitals to ensure no one was faking. 

“I’m alright, just glad you’re here,” You stretched after being released from your bonds. You meant what you said, you just wish you could’ve done more. 

“It seems everyone is down for the count. I have contacted the authorities to deal with them and their leader,” Zane approaches you two as he speaks and stares at you.

“You are injured,” Cole furrows his brows in slight confusion before checking and gasps.

“What the- You said you were alright!” Cole panicked a little (a lot), you smile sheepishly.

“I am, it just stings a bit is all,” Zane silently looks between you and Cole before speaking.

“We should return to the bounty. The others are worried for your safety,” He turns on his heel and begins to walk out despite Cole trying to protest. You awkwardly follow the two back to the bounty.

___________

When you return to the bounty, you receive a lot of worried yelling from mostly everyone on the ship. Wu and Zane were able to quiet them before things got out of hand. 

“Zane, can you take care of Y/N’s injuries?” Wu asks, Zane opens his mouth to answer.

“Y/N WAS INJURED?!” Jay screeched.

“Who was it?! Let me at ‘em!” Nya yelled afterwards.

“Hey, at least leave some for me sis,” Kai adds. Zane sighs and gently takes your hand. He starts to slightly drag you away from the worried chaos that was the Ninja. You walk past the kitchen to see Lloyd was making dinner. He sees you both and waves before returning back to his task.

“How-” 

“It was the cart that led us to your location. I asked Jay, Kai and Lloyd to put away the groceries while Cole and I searched for you,” Zane explains as you enter the bathroom. He asks you to sit on the toilet and you do. Zane takes out the first aid kit and grabs the necessary supplies. He pours some hydrogen peroxide onto some cotton pads, turns to you and kneels. 

“This may sting,” He mutters before gently patting your bruised cheek, causing you to inhale sharply until the stinging stops. 

“Apologies,” He gets up and throws away the cotton pad, returning to the first aid kit and fishing out the appropriate bandaid and ointment. He applies the ointment on the bandaid before gently putting it on your cheek.

“Thank you Zane,” He nods as he puts away the first aid kit. 

“In the future, when you’re running errands please take one of us with you,” Zane comments politely.

“Oh. Yeah, I can understand why but…” You trail off, Zane raises a brow in confusion.

“But…?” 

“It feels like I’m wasting your time. I’m not like any of you and was only able to live on the ship because Wu thought it would be for the best. You all have big responsibilities to shoulder and I don’t want to make things more difficult for you,” Zane stares at you unsure of how to respond. You start to get uncomfortable and get up.

“S-Sorry, forget I said anything, yeah?” 

“No,” 

“Huh?” You look at Zane confused.

“No, I will not be simply forgetting something that you’ve seemed to be harboring for quite some time now. I do not believe you are wasting anyone’s time, in fact, time spent with you always makes the others and myself quite happy. You’re always making sure we’re alright and do what you think are the simplest of chores that we simply do not have time for. You brighten our world, Y/N. You always have and always will,” 

Zane smiles at you while you stare at him shocked but also happy. He opens his arms offering a hug and you take it, wrapping your arms around the robo boi. 

“Thank you Zane,” You mutter. He gently pats your head.

“It is no problem, Y/N,” You both separate and FINALLY exit the bathroom. The scent of Lloyd’s cooking enters your nose as soon as you leave the room.

“Looks like Lloyd’s done! Let’s go before Cole and Kai eat it all,” You joke, speed walking to the dining room. Zane follows with a confused smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Want to Request? Please Read this before you do so.

#Ninjago #Zane #Ninjago Zane X Reader #X Reader