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updownlately · 9 months

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i know that you love me (even when i lose my head)

| alessia russo x reader | fluff | 2.0k | inspo: moon and back by jvke and guillotine by jon bellion | a/n: thanks for you patience with this one mate! hope you like it! this one was a long time coming with a handful of hurdles but we got there.

~~~

“Okay, but what if they don’t like me? Especially since-”

“-Less,” you tried interjecting, not managing to stop the striker from spiralling deeper into her panic, her pacing making you dizzy.

“I swear I didn’t mean to tackle Caitlin so harshly when we played-”

“Lessi-” you cut in again, unsuccessful once more.

“Oh my gosh, she’s a front-line player too…what if she doesn’t pass me the ball? Or worse-”

“Alessia!” Your voice was firm this time, nearly teetering on the edge of a shout but managing to cut the blonde’s inner monologue of anxiety short.

Reaching your hands out to where she had frozen from her marching, nearly right in front of you, you intertwined your fingers before pulling her to sit beside you.

Nervous energy near palpable, the tension rolling off her in waves, you brought your interlaced hands up to your face, kissing each of her knuckles soothingly before turning ever so slightly to face her.

“I’m sorry...”

The quiet utterance of the words from the girl to your left had your shoulders dropping, annoyed at yourself for making her feel small.

“Love, you don’t have to apologize for anything. You’re allowed to be stressed, worried, whatever it is that you’re feeling…” You kept your volume low, an apologetic note in your tone, praying the words reassured Alessia from her worries.

Continuing, you figured you may as well state the point you originally wanted to, having been displeased with how unconfident Alessia appeared at the thought of meeting her new team- your team of three years.

“Listen, you’ve met majority of the team before and they love you. Scuffles on the pitch don’t change that, alright? And we’re your new team, you’re a Gunner now, you’ve pretty much been considered a part of us ever since you visited back in January…the world cup passing by doesn’t change anything.”

“But that was as your girlfriend! And as Leah and Lotte’s national teammate! Not as Alessia Russo ‘new signing for Arsenal’!”

You placed a hand on the blonde’s thigh to grab her attention again.

Taking note of the worry lines littering her face, you gently reached across with your other hand, it coming to rest on her cheek as you smoothed out the wrinkles on the bridge of her nose and forehead.

And as Alessia’s eyes fluttered shut at your ministrations you smiled, gently running over the little hills and valleys until they disappeared.

Happy with the result, you began to pull your hand back, only to put it back on the other girl’s cheek when you noticed her face scrunching with displeasure at the absence of warmth and touch.

Ignoring how much your back was protesting this awkward position, your body half turned, right arm crossing over your whole torso, you focused on bringing comfort to your girlfriend.

Voice dropping low once again, you hoped your words comforted the blonde as wholeheartedly as your emotion backing them.

“They love you already, trust me okay? I swear to god each day Steph and Kim ask me when I’m adding you to the group chat- which speaking of remind me to do later? I keep forgetting. But anyways, seriously…they’re all so excited to meet you as a teammate and of course as a friend. Girlfriend and national teammate Alessia isn’t different from teammate Alessia. You’re still you and they’ve loved your company in the past and they no doubt will love you now and later, capeesh?”

And when Alessia timidly nodded at your words, a small smile finally appearing on her lips, you smiled back, a quiet breath of relief leaving you.

You considered sharing the idea that had been on your mind, a last resort, a last ditch effort to soothe your girlfriend’s panicking. You initially thought that she wouldn’t like the idea, you aware that the blonde wasn’t a fan of meeting new people in huge groups, but it was worth a shot right?

Voice still gentle, each word coming out slowly, judging her response after each syllable, you watched carefully for Alesia’s reaction at your words.

“Would it help if we met with a handful of them before our first practice? Maybe a game night or dinner at ours or someone else’s place?”

Just like you had figured, Alessia froze up, ocean eyes widening comically before meeting your own.

“I- uhm? Maybe?,” she just barely managed to squeak out.

You let out a gentle smile, pressing closer to Alessia in order to place a gentle kiss to her forehead. Lips meeting her hairline you murmured against the blonde before pulling her into a hug, arms wrapping around her shoulders.

“How about you let me set up a dinner, with just a few of the girls yeah? Trust me?” And as you felt her nod against you, her own arms coming to settle around your waist, you smiled softly, excited for her to finally be playing with you, for her new beginning and the new friendships you knew she was absolutely going to have.

~~~

“I think I regret setting up that initial dinner, not going to lie.”

You wished the quiet words coming out of your mouth were only a joke but in all honestly, they were spoken in at least half honesty. Ever since you had set up that initial dinner, majority of the team meeting for a game night as Beth and Viv’s (and Laura’s) place, Alessia’s initial worries had been more than washed away, the blonde fitting perfectly in with the squad.

From helping Viv and Kim with the cooking to floating across the room and reminiscing about camps with Lotte and Leah, to talking to Katie and Steph about the world cup, Alessia was everywhere, her nervousness seemingly quenched, moving with ease.

You had quietly observed, as the night passed on, the way her still shoulders slowly relaxed, her smile getting brighter in the ever dimming light outside, nearly lighting up the room inside by itself. And when the blonde tucked her into your side as the energy of the room slowly waned as the night progressed, you could see the glint in her eyes, a content smile lazily on her face as she pecked your cheek in a silent thanks.

But since that day? Since that day you were sure the rest of the team had seen your girlfriend more than you had. The two weeks of time off you (and the rest of the girls competing in the world cup) had been given coming to a near end and you had barely seen your better-half after the first two days.

You were glad that she was fitting in well with the team, it’s of course what you had wanted after all. But right now? You wanted to go back in time and not plan that dinner.

Here you were, first day of proper training with the rest of the Gunners, in your apartment trying to gather your things at nearly nine in the morning, grumpy with the early start the after a blissful fortnight of late nights and even later mornings.

As you struggled to find your left cleat, something you had somehow managed to misplace after the flight back from Australia, you could her the impatient huffs escaping Alessia, the blonde having been ready to go to practice since last week.

“Babe, please can you hurry up? We need to get to practice!”

You closed your eyes, quelling your annoyance at yourself down. Muttering underneath your breath, you tore open your kit bag, looking for your second cleat. “Yeah, let me just look harder? Because that’s going to find my boot…”

Unironically, no quicker than the words left your mouth did your hands meet the hard bottom of your desired object, the orange shoe making itself known from under the pile of extra clothes you stashed in the bottom of your kit.

“Okay I’ve found it! We can-“ No sooner than did the words escape you did you hear the lock to the door opening, Alessia slipping out of your apartment, the excited patter of her feet getting quieter with each second that passed.

You laughed silently to yourself, mood lifting quickly at the other girl’s excitement.

Grabbing the keys to your car because of course the girl with the Mercedes rather not drive, a passenger princess if you’ve ever seen one, you followed.

Locking up behind you, you knew for a fact that the blonde was probably mentally face-palming right now, her forgetfulness that you had the keys not an uncommon occurrence. Yet, you were glad for the quick moment of peace.

Since the pair of you had woken up, the normally groggy striker had been bouncing around your shared place, channeling the energy of a five-year old on a sugar rush. Between tugging you up to brush your teeth with her to scrambling off to start on coffee on breakfast, the blonde had been constantly on the move, a grin on her face

You knew it was in no doubt due to the excitement of seeing her friends, new and old, that the worried Alessia from a few weeks ago was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by this overgrown child that you couldn’t help but find adorable. As adorable as it was however, you were grateful for the breather as you caught the elevator down, nowhere near enough energy in your body yet to stay caught up with the blonde.

Finally making your way down, a ding signaling your arrival at the floor of the car park, you walked towards your car. Approaching it however, you hung your head trying to hide your smile at the sight in front you.

By the passenger door sat Alessia, her tall body folded up in a small ball as her bag laid beside her. Her smile hadn’t left her face, only slightly dimmed, her eyes sparkling however, as she heard your footsteps approaching.

“Were you planning on leaving without me?” You teased, dangling your keys in the air before reaching a hand out to pull the taller girl up.

Sheepishly the blonde wrung her hands. “I forgot you had the keys…”

Shaking your head in amusement you chuckled, moving to open the passenger door for the blonde before rounding the car to your own.

~~~

One loud-music packed carride later, the two of you found yourself in the training ground parking lot, Alessia nearly leaving the car before you could put it in park. And as you grabbed your kit bag from the back seat you could hear the Englishwoman’s voice as it began to fade out.

“Walk faster! C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

Running to catch up to her, you grabbed Alessia’s free hand with your own, fingers intertwining with her own, forcing the striker to slow down to your pace.

“And to think two weeks ago you were nearly talking my head off, anxious about meeting the other girls…” You laughed as you spoke the words, the way Alessia was pulling you along to try and cut the few minute walk to seconds reminding you of your nieces and nephews when you took them to the park.

“Love relax, they’re not going anywhere…” Eyes filled with mirth, you let yourself be dragged into the facility and towards the locker room, grins not leaving either of your faces.

It was only when Alessia stopped in front of the entrance to the change room, music nearly audible through the wooden door, that you tilted your head, smile falling as it was replaced by confusion.

“Less what-“

“I love you.” The raw, unprovoked confession had your smile appearing within milliseconds, hand coming to wrap around Alessia’s shoulders, pulling her in for a hug as you tried to hide just how wide you were beaming.

“I love you too, dork. Now, we got a team to join yeah?”

Committing Alessia’s returned grin to memory, you let yourself be pulled into the chaos of the locker room, excited to see what the season would hold, not only for you, but the team and the endearing blonde that you got to call yours.

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo #fluff #my writing #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso community #arsenal wfc x reader #fic req #woso #iktylm

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vanillefraisecaek · 2 years

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#Ragnarok Online #iRO #Guillotine Cross #GX #Royal Guard

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

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Can you maybe do a Wednesday and Enid x reader (platonic or romantic) where basically the reader comes from a very rich family and likes to spoil Wednesday and Enid.

(I hope this makes sense)

Is this what you wanted? Idk but I thought a headcannon format would be more sufficient for this but again idk. You tell me.

You spare no expenses when it came to Wednesday and Enid. You never bothered to try in fact because it didn’t really matter, as the money spent would eventually find itself back into your parents bank account anyways so why should you fret about accidentally crossing certain thresholds?

So when Wednesday’s typewriter starts having complications, hindering her writing time, you assured her that you would be able to get it fixed by the best people there was in fixing things. However it turns out that the typewriter was irreparably damaged and you had to buy Wednesday a new one that was personalised to be coated in a matte black colour and you even had her initials engraved on the front of it in gold cursive.

Wednesday may not have looked visibly thrilled at the new typewriter but her bland words of “I’m so ecstatic that my face can not comprehend how to convey it.” Were all you needed to know that she did in fact liked her new typewriter and began working on her book as though nothing ever happened. The next day you found a dead bird in front of your dorm, this was Wednesday’s way of saying ‘thank you.’

You even went out of your way to find enid a new part for her laptop when she complains to you that she couldn’t get anything do without it. So once again you went off to find the best shops available in Jericho that could help you in finding what you needed. Unfortunately due to it being the city of Jericho there weren’t a single good shop in sight that even had the part you needed in stock nor even in the back with the rest of the recent deliveries.

Typical.

With that you resorted to plan b and reached out online to shops elsewhere and ordered it for a next day delivery as to save yourself and enid the agonising waiting game. You even got her some other parts should this happen again but all of them were expensive and of state of the art manufacturing with the added promise of longevity and efficiency.

Enid was gobsmacked when she learnt that you did this all for her. “How can I pay you back for doing this for me?” She would ask but all you told her was that you didn’t need to be paid back for as long as she was happy and that the part was doing it’s job smoothly without any hitches, then that’s all the payment you desired.

This didn’t stop at fixing and or replacing their broken stuff but it also extended to their birthdays where you got enid more squishmellows for her growing pile, top of the range designer clothing that you’d knew she would look stunning in, new sets of nail polish, moisturisers, makeup and some new fairy lights should her current ones light their final night.

For Wednesday it was a little more trickier as she hated her birthday being celebrated in the traditional sense that you and enid were brought up with and instead you bought her an actual guillotine that she had set up next to her cello outside on the balcony of Ophelia Hall, dissection kits, things to keep her cello in top condition, some dark flowers that didn’t require much caring for, pacidermy animals much to Enid’s dismay as Wednesday would always seemingly have them face her whenever she said something that Wednesday wasn’t particularly fond of.

When Wednesday and enid try to repay you on your generosity, enid worries that due to your upbringing, you would be expecting diamonds, gold and the such thrown at your feet but Wednesday told her that she was exaggerating and that yes, you were born into an extremely wealthy family but the addams noted that you have a preference for the smaller things. So out they went to Jericho and chose a couple of things that they thought you’d might like.

Enid got you some cute toys that she though would add to your dorm along with getting you a matching snood with her and Wednesday that you could all wear to class together. Wednesday got you a necklace with a dead crow with a black Dalia sprouting from it’s heart with some of it’s crystal feathers dotted here and there up the silver chain as to give off the impression that this crow was shot out of the sky. She also got you some uncouth stuff like a hand mace or an taser for self defence for when people who couldn’t get the hint.

She wouldn’t admit it but even Wednesday was a little nervous that you might not like what they got you. However she didn’t have to continue putting belief into that thought as your eyes light up at each and everything that she and Enid got you that by the end of it you looked to both of them with the widest grin they’ve ever seen. “Thank you both so much! I love everything you’ve given me! Nobody’s given me things that I actually like!”

“What do you mean by that y/n?” Enid asks, confused.

“My parents think that splashing their money on expensive stuff for me is what I want but it’s not, I could care less about having the state of the art phone, tv, clothes, none of that matters to me but it seems that to them, that’s all that matters is to not only be rich but look rich too…so when they started putting large sums of money into my bank account, I spent it on the things that I want, on the clothes that I felt good in rather then what they think I’d look good in for their reputation. So I thank you both for these,” you told them as you squeezed one of the plushies Enid bought you close to your chest, “I love them a lot.”

“Even the taser?” Enid asked as Wednesday stared at her

You chuckled, “yes, even the taser. After all you can never be too sure when a creep is nearby.” You looked to Wednesday who’s lips almost uplifted into a proper smile but came back down into it’s neutral state just seconds later.

#Wednesday imagines #Wednesday imagine #Wednesday x you #Wednesday x reader #Wednesday fanfic #Wednesday fic #Wednesday Addams fanfic #Wednesday Addams fic #Wednesday Addams imagines #Wednesday Addams imagine #Wednesday Addams x you #Wednesday Addams x reader #enid sinclair fic #enid sinclair x you #enid sinclair fanfic #enid sinclair imagine #enid sinclair x reader #Enid sinclair imagines

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qutiesquish · 1 year

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“Cliché”

Headcannons᯽ Incorrect Quotes᯽

Authors Words: I love this man sm and I tried to do something for him, please don’t judge me I can’t write HCs

Word Count: 1687

Character(s): Xavier Thorpe

Pronouns: none used(masc coded)

Warning(s): both the reader and Xavier fall under the multisexual umbrella, not only is this “friends to rivals to lovers” trope but it’s also an “idiots in love but in denial” trope(yw), not proof read

⚰︎ You and Xavier were once best friends, you mainly got along due to you both being able to manipulate stuff, him drawings and you Shadows

⚰︎ However you both winded up falling for the Wednesday Addams, and you both being best friends quite easily caught onto the others feelings for the alternative girl

⚰︎ Though neither of you physically or verbally fought over her, you both definitely had some kind of mental arguments and created tense atmospheres whenever the two over you were around the other to the point it could be cut with a guillotine

⚰︎ What neither of you seemed to notice however was that you both definitely started to catch feeling for each other after being ditched by Wednesday(for Tyler) on more than one occasion, together

⚰︎ Specifically on Outreach day at Weathervane where you both were (unfortunately) to work together for the whole day and practically get rejected by your shared love interest at the same time

Picking up dirty mugs off one of the boothed tables and wiping it down you had caught the voice of your EX best friend.

Eyeing a glance to see what he was doing you found him in the middle of a conversation with Wednesday. That would simply not slide with you. So taking your wet rag and leaning next to your old friend you join in.

“Oh yeah? You want-“

“Oh hey Wednesday.” You said, quickly cutting Xavier off. “You want a Kaffee or something?”

You caught a glance of Xavier side eyeing you but you just brushed him off and kept smiling. However Xavier decided to add to your comment with his own. Seemingly dragging himself back into the conversation you tried to overtake.

“It’s one of the many perks of this wonderful assignment.” He said, to which you nodded in agreement. Sure you didn’t want him to be a part of this conversation but he definitely was right. The best part of this assignment was the free coffee.

“I’m actually here for Tyler.” Wednesday said to which you crossed your arms and scoffed at.

“I told you he was bad news.” Xavier replied verbally.

“Twice, from both of you.” She said flatly. “But who I speak to is my business.” She continued before ringing the bell.

Your face scrunched at the annoying ding but brushed it off as Tyler came out from the back.

“You rang?” Tyler said.

Wednesday looked at you and Xavier as if asking you both to leave them. Both you and the brunette scoffed before you grabbed Xavier’s forearm.

“Come on Xav.” You said as you dragged him away in the other direction.

Xavier pulled his arm out of your grasp and looked at you in disbelief. “Xav?” You couldn’t tell if he was offended, hurt or something else. “Really?”

“What?” You replied, questioning him before you paused, finally processing what you did.

“Whatever. Get back to work, Thorpe.” You turned on your heel and went back to wiping tables, now feeling some kind of pit in your stomach for the rest of the day.

⚰︎ After that things pretty much stayed as they were

⚰︎ You did get pretty jealous when Wednesday asked Xavier to the Rave’N dance, but for some reason you couldn’t exactly tell who you were jealous of and just winded up avoiding anything to do with the Rave’N dance altogether

⚰︎ Only after the Rave’N dance did you find out that Xavier and Wednesday didn’t go together and you felt relief flood throughout you

⚰︎ However after that you did start skipping any and all classes you had with Xavier and Wednesday, because you felt that put in your stomach from your Weathervane assignment all over again

⚰︎ You only ever showed up to class for any possible tests and to pick up class work you missed, other then that you isolated yourself in your dorm and gave the silent treatment to your vampire roommate if they ever tried to ask about what was happening with you

⚰︎ Quite literally, you disappeared into the shadows of your guys dorm room until they stopped questioning you or they left

⚰︎ That continued all the way until Xavier was arrested for supposedly being the monster(that you managed to find out is called a Hyde due to your roommate)

⚰︎ Though due to you knowing Xavier for as long as you have and how you were both practically attached to the hip before the whole Wednesday thing, you knew damn well you would’ve been dragged into the whole thing way before Wednesday even showed up, therefore automatically telling you Xavier was innocent

⚰︎ However you were confident that Xavier was not the Hyde monster, you couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed due to you anxiety and insecurities eating you up and telling you that you’re only saying he’s innocent cause he’s your best friend

You laid on your back facing the roof, headphones over your beanie blasting music as your head swarmed with thoughts.

Was Xavier really the Hyde?

Was it because of Wednesday? Is that why he didn’t tell you? No, the monster had been around before her and the whole Wednesday crush thing.

Could he have just not trusted you with his secret?

Were you not trustworthy?

You wouldn’t have told on him, he was your best friend. So why wouldn’t he have trusted you?

Were you a bad friend?

⚰︎ After sitting like that for an hour or so you told yourself to “man up” and decided to go and find out if you or your anxieties were right, which was pretty easy for you to sneak out of a Nevermore and into the police station due to you being able to manipulate shadows

⚰︎ You remember the whole night as if it was yesterday

⚰︎ You remember sitting next to his cell and asking him questions that he answered

⚰︎ And him and you both sitting on opposite sides of his cell back to back holding hands as you both cried and apologized to one another

⚰︎ You remember all of it

⚰︎ You also very much remember him pulling your hand through the bars and kissing up your arm as far as he could while saying “sorry” before you had to disappear into the shadows before one of the deputies walked in

⚰︎ You also remember after the whole crackstone thing where you had thanked Wednesday for taking an arrow for Xavier because “he’s an idiot”

⚰︎ And how she immediately went to asking if you and Xavier were a thing

⚰︎ You and Xavier were practically dating after the whole night in the police department and didn’t even realize until then

⚰︎ (That was just something you both laughed about after though, alongside both of your guy’s old crushes on Wednesday)

⚰︎ After you guys came to terms that you both liked one another everything had practically gone back to they way it was before, just you guys being more than friends this time

⚰︎ Though one thing didn’t change however

⚰︎ And that was your guys rivalry

⚰︎ Everything was a competition and or a fight now

⚰︎Examples:

➣

You, in a whiny voice: “Xav I’m tireddd.”

Xavier, in a mocking voice: “Xav I’m tired.”

➢

Xavier would always answer (basically) all your questions and requests with a “no” before actually answering/fulfilling your request(s).

You: “Hug me.”

Xavier: “clingy much?”

Xavier: *hugs you anyways*

➣

You’ll both wind up fighting over who can eat faster anywhere at anytime. You could be having dinner with both your families and friends and still wind up scarfing down all your food to beat the other.

Xavier: *eating quickly so he can go draw*

You: *eats just as fast so you can listen to music*

Both: *Glaring across the table as you both scarf down food trying to clear your plate before the other*

➢

Xavier: “I can’t believe we fell in love. We literally became the Rivals to Lovers trope irl.”

You, smirking: “Who doesn’t live a good cliche?”

➣

Xavier: “Hey, you want some leftovers?”

You: “What's that?”

Xavier: “You've never had leftovers???”

You: “No, because I'm not a quitter.”

Xavier: “… that’s a fucking lie.”

You: “Fuck off and die.”

Xavier: “Bet.”

You: “Wait no-“

Xavier, Smirking:

You: “I hate you.”

Xavier: “Good.”

➢

You: “I live to spite you.”

Xavier: “Then why are we married?”

You: “To ruin your life, duh.”

➣

Xavier gets up an hour earlier just so he can say he brushed his teeth first.

Now you both go to bed at eight and wake up around 3:40 just to beat the other.

➢

You: “I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you.”

Xavier: “10 times 0 is still 0 though.”

You: “Jokes on you, I can't do math.”

Xavier:

➣

You: “Three words. Say them and I‘ll buy dinner.”

Xavier: “Three words.”

You:

➢

Xavier: “Okay, help me with this drawing… please.”

You: “Got two words for you.”

Xavier: “I bet they won't be helpful.”

You, with a close eyed smile: “Your problem.”

Xavier: “I was right.”

➣

He also does his best to remember dates just so he can pull shit like this:

You: “Can you please be serious for five minutes?”

Xavier: “My record is four, but I think I can do it.”

You: “Why am I dating you?”

Xavier, smiling: “Because you said “I love you” first.”

You:

You: “Did I?”

Xavier:

Xavier: “March 2nd at—“

You: “jeez okay fine just shut up.”

Xavier, smirking:

You: “I hate you.”

Xavier: “Keep telling yourself that.”

➢

He would probably give you his left kidney with absolutely zero questions but won’t give you his phone charger even if his phone is at like 70%

➣

Trivial matters trip both of you up and you both being stubborn, wind up arguing over said matters.

You: “who’s turn is it to do the dishes?”

Xavier:

Xavier:: “ I think it’s yours.”

You: “But I did them yesterday.”

Xavier: “No you most definitely did not.”

You: “Did too!”

Xavier: “Did not!—“

And it continues.

#x reader #wednesday x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #x gn reader #x male reader #wednesday tv show #gn!reader #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x male reader #xavier thorpe x m!reader #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe x gn!reader

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aurumacadicus · 8 days

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#160

"Bruce," Steve gasped, bursting into his lab.

Bruce jumped, hard, both his feet leaving the ground as he spun to face him. There was a green tinge around his eyes and nose for a moment. His chest heaved from the fright, and the more understanding that filled Bruce's face, the more frustration joined it. He didn't normally have to warn people not to freak him out more than once after they learned about the Hulk, after all.

Steve took a moment to feel sorry, because he really hadn't meant to startle him. Then he charged onward, taking a step further into the lab. "Bruce, please tell me how I fucked up."

"...Besides the obvious?" Bruce asked, waving a hand back and forth between them.

Steve thrust his phone out at him. "Please. He sent me a frown and I don't know what I did wrong."

Bruce's eyes crossed as Steve shoved the screen closer to his face. "...You responded to a text simply consisting of an eggplant and a donut with 'no, thank you?'" He looked up at Steve, unable to help a frown of his own. "You know what the eggplant is supposed to signify, right?"

Steve hesitated. But then, Bruce didn't look flustered, so. "A dick?"

"Okay, so you got that part right," Bruce offered after a surprised pause.

"The donut threw me off. I've never seen the donut before," Steve admitted. He paused, then corrected, "I've never seen it with the eggplant. He usually texts me that one while I'm on my morning runs to get donuts on my way home."

"Maybe he sent the donut by mistake," Bruce offered.

Steve looked at his phone screen and sighed, brows furrowing together. "I know Tony makes fun of me for typing things up, but at least it doesn't leave room for miscommunication like emoji." Bruce grimaced, and Steve caught it before he could school his face back. He huffed, feeling a little embarrassed. "What?"

"Text communication has its own hurdles," Bruce began. He said it very diplomatically. It was the same tone he'd used in previous situations when Steve had unknowingly put his foot in it, and he felt like the guillotine was about to come down on him. "Tony asked what you liked in a date and you said you really liked the ones Natasha had brought you with the goat cheese and the bacon."

"That's because I couldn't believe he was asking me out via text," Steve exclaimed defensively.

Bruce blinked at him, unimpressed. "That's because you weren't getting the hint when he asked you out in person, Steve."

"HUH," Steve bellowed.

Bruce's phone pinged before he could continue. He pulled his phone out as if Steve did not fully intend to interrogate him about his apparent previous obliviousness. "I hate it here," he sighed.

Steve snatched the phone out of his hand. It was from Tony.

Who says no to sex and donuts?! 😠

"Fucking infuriating," Steve said, then turned to storm upstairs. "Don't bother us for like twelve hours."

"Give me back my phone," Bruce barked, and Steve wasn't stupid enough to try him, so he scuttled back to hand it over to him.

#aurumacadicus answers #palaceofash #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony

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yarrystyleeza · 2 months

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You Can Keep It (M.K)

Michael Kinsella x female!reader

Mentions of the Kinsellas' dirty business, mentions of Michael's wife death, but it's all fluff.

Summary: you've had an involuntarily hard limerence on your new coworker, Michael, for a while now. After an office party at the car dealership on a cold night, Michael lends you his jacket.

Word count: 2.11k!

Writer's note: I literally had this idea sparked in my head when I was chatting with the girls on discord the other day—and I really had to write it down! It's short, it's quick, but it's fluff and pining, it's what we live for! <3

You had a bottle of beer between your knees as you sat on the white office sofa, chatting with one of your coworkers about your plans for the weekend.

Amanda had decided to throw a party at the car dealership for whatever reason and you didn't really question it. You needed a break from working and some food because today was exhausting, and this party offered you all.

"I'll be out of town fer the weekend," your coworker said before taking a sip of her drink, "goin' ta see me boyfriend's family fer the first time," you smiled. You know she was looking forward for that day for a really long time, she and her boyfriend were planning an engagement soon and you couldn't be happier for her.

But as she spoke, your eyes strayed away to the farthest corner in the room and you spot him. The gloomy dark-haired man, standing alone, the way he always did. Michael.

Your eyes meet for a second and your face blazing red. Your interactions were less than few, but you couldn't help but smile and feel your stomach churn whenever you spot him anywhere in the crowd, or keep staring at him as he talks, or when he smiles—Oh God, when he smiles. This man was the perfect form of himself when he smiles.

He's Amanda's brother-in-law, and you learned that he was freshly released from prison for the murder of his wife. You didn't know of him before that and you'd be a liar if you say it didn't scare you off the first time you heard of him.

You expected a very frightening looking man but, he was totally the opposite.

Apparently, and presumably, he wasn't the one who did it. Judging from the way he looks whenever someone mentions her—he loved his deceased wife. But only him and God know what happened that night.

You know about the Kinsellas' real business, everyone knows about it, they aren't hiding or keeping it under the wraps anyway—but you often thought of that dirty business' involvement in that poor woman's demise. But ever since he was released, Michael was working his best to stay off the business—for his teen daughter, Anna.

You know, you just know.

Maybe you overheard couple things and maybe you investigated couple others but you're not very proud to say that you know things about this man and his family more than anyone else in the room. You know... Too much. You're Amanda's assistant—you got to be involved in so much shit work, and you knew so much that either could make you feared and powerful or put your head in a guillotine basket.

"Go talk ta him," your coworker nudged your knee with hers. You turned your head back to her, realizing that you were staring at Michael for too long. She smiled. You were a deer caught in headlights.

"What are ya talkin' about?" you were garbled, mind scattered all over the place. But a part of your brain is still there, with the man in the corner—and your eyes fight to look back at him.

"Ya know who I'm talkin' about. Go." she chin-jutted in his general direction. Your eyes follow back to him and his gentle gaze was on you. Once your eyes met again, a smile was slowly drawn on his face and you could see his cheeks prickling from this very far spot you're at. He looks down at his feet then back at you and you slip out of time and space, the air is stuck in your throat and your brain tunes out everything but him.

He's under the spotlight, and the rest is pitch darkness.

You rise from your seat to cross the distance between the two of you. Your heart pounds loud in your ears, your breath feels hot and wet against your face as you march towards him with his focus poured onto you.

His smile deepens the closer you get, until you could see the crow feet on each side of his eyes. You loved his hazel eyes, and you couldn't help but stare into their brown vastness and innocence, getting lost in the drugging color of caffeine.

"Hey," he speaks with a smile and says your name. He knows who you are, the same way as you do. And in fact, the feeling is mutual.

For a moment, you forget how to breathe. "Hey, Michael," you smile and your face is red. You've never said his name out loud before and it sounds way better than the voices in your head.

"How's the party goin fer ya?" you ask, taking a sip of your drink, trying to sound chill and casual and nonchalant—but in reality you were melting into a puddle with his gaze softly casted upon you.

He smiles and you could see the ghost of a dimple under his thick beard. "Grand. Ya?" he simply answered, or that's what he succeeded to delude you with.

You were the first one Michael ever laid his eyes upon since he got released weeks ago. You made his heart tick in a way he couldn't explain. He watched you talk and smile and laugh with your coworkers and he wished he was this close to you.

At one of the few times you got a chance to talk—he was a breath away from asking you out, but he thought it would be awkward and a bit creepy. This broke him into pieces, watching you acting professionally around him while he was almost a pile of sweat and tears in front of you.

Tonight, when he looked at you and you looked up at him, his heart faltered in his chest, each beat is tripping over the other. He tried to appear more staid and calm but he sighs so desperately when you ripped your eyes quickly away from his.

He thought about walking over to you and striking up a conversation and maybe ask you out afterwards—but he felt it was too awkward to do that; he never started the talk—not with someone close. But he wants to be close. He wants to be something more to you. His insalubrious crush on you keeps him up at night and daydreaming in the morning.

"Grand, I guess," you pull him back into reality. You're standing in front of him, here and now, and he wasn't imagining things.

"Glad ye are, pet," your breath hitched in your throat at the casual petname he threw at you. You blink into the distance twice and look back at him. He just called you 'pet'.

You couldn't help but daydream about how other flirty words would sound with his pleasantly gravelly voice. 'Mine', 'baby', 'love', 'sweetheart', 'bug', you wanted to hear it all now. You wanted to hear your name in all of his tones.

"So am I," you had to talk back, you already looked awkward enough with your mind straying every few seconds.

"Wait a second," he gently says before passing you and heading towards the buffet table. You watch him plate two slices of pizza and some other bits and bites before heading back in your direction.

"Here," he offers you the plate. You take a slice and he takes the other, placing the plate on the desk next to him. "Ye've been working all day today, pet, ye must be starving," he calls you with that name again and you turn as red as your blouse.

You nodded with a 'thank you' before taking a bite of your slice. "Ye noticed," it was higher than a whisper, maybe it was a loud thought that slipped out of your mouth, but he caught it, and his face blushes and burns.

He blinks a couple of times, trying to find a way to avoid your eyes because you were staring at him with those pretty orbs of yours and he already started melting under your beautiful gaze.

"Yeah, can't lie," he lets his guards down with a sigh and a smile, "ye were working so hard on yer desk this mornin' and I wanted ta get ye coffee and something ta eat, but felt it was awkward ta do tha'."

There you go. If this wasn't a hint, you don't know what else is. Your grin widened as your heart raced faster. He was so considerate of you, it made your heart sweetly swell and you fought the urge to kiss him—not minding the setting or the fact that none of you have made anything clear yet.

You shook your head. "Not at all, Michael, that would've been a nice thing," you had to encourage him, you wanted things to go farther, to go deeper, and to grow stronger.

"In tha' case, I'll pick up some brunch fer us on me way tomorrow mornin'. Say Reuben sandwiches, black coffee and Baileys Truffles? Is tha' grand fer ya, pet?" you were in awe of him. Was he thinking about this for so long?

You nodded. "But I'd prefer if we had it outside," you didn't know what you said before it left your mouth. You mentally placed your hands over your mouth.

"Ye're askin' me out, pet, is that what ye're doin'?" he smirked and you found yourself blurting incoherent words. You sigh with a smile and look back at him.

"Can't let ya ask me out before I do it first, pet. Understand?" he inches a little closer, but not too close, just the amount enough to let you know that he's so interested in you.

You blush at his demands and you nod with a grin. He chuckled, for the first time tonight, and it was the most pleasant voice you've ever heard.

"I want ye ta go out with me fer brunch tomorrow, pet," Michael was now filled with confidence and pride, "and I want ta pick up lunch fer ya too."

That was too much for you to bare. He asked you out, offered you two meals, and you had no idea what comes next.

"And if ya let me, I will take ya fer a drink tomorrow night."

That was official. He is way more than just interested in you, he was head over heels for you.

"I'd love ta," you coquetted, unintentionally, but to him it was sweet and spontaneous—and that made him fall harder.

Time slipped away with your endless chats and the night began to die out.

"It's getting late fer ya, pet," Michael breaks the silence after pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket. It was then when you found yourself alone with him —beside a couple other coworkers.

"Alright, um... Goodnight Michael." you say, almost turning in your heels.

"Mikey." he corrects you, "it's Mikey. Goodnight, pet." both of you smile and he lets you walk back to your office.

You pick up your purse and keys and walk out of the glass building, after exchanging waves and glances and maybe mental kisses and hugs.

In contrast to the warmth of the place inside, you were hit with a freezing howl of wind and it nailed you in place, hugging yourself while shaking out of shock and cold.

You walk for a couple feet before you heard your name called from behind you. You turn around. It was Michael—Mikey, taking off his black jacket as he approached you.

"There," he surprised you, placing his jacket on your shoulders and you were hit with the beautiful woodsy scent of his. He smelled of cinnamon and dark coffee and mint gum, you swear you could sleep in this forever.

His hands linger on your shoulders for a moment before he backs away an inch. "Tha' was stupid of me ta say back in there, ya shouldn't walk home alone at tha' time."

You tried to protest, but he shook his head, saying your name as soft as a swan feather on your skin. "Let me walk ya home, please." he said, his eyes sparkled in the dim lights.

You walk silently next to him, despite the butterflies loudly churning in your stomach, flying and meddling around in your chest, playing with the strings of your heart and messing with the chemistry of your brain.

You were completely besotted by this gentleman.

You make it to your doorstep and you're about to slip out of his jacket and hand it back to Michael when he stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"No. Keep it." he says with a smile, inching closer to you, placing a chaste and soft peck on your temple, "goodnight, pet. See ya tomorrow."

Taglist: @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @1988-fiend @floral-charlie-cat @munsonownsmyass @lazyxsquirrel @mindidjarin (feel free to ask for addition or removal 🤍)

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#yarrystyleeza #michael kinsella #charlie cox #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella fanfic #kin bbc #charlie cox supremacy

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sometimes-i-write-good · 1 year

Text

5 + 1

Top Gun: Maverick - Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x f!pilot reader (callsign: Fallbeil)

4.4k || 5 times Bob remembers your little quirks and habits, and 1 time you remember his.

===

Genre: Fluff, crushing, love confessions

CW: mentions of drinking, swearing

Author’s Note: Bob is such an acts of service kind of person - I can feel it deep in my soul. Also, I thought the idea of him ending up with someone who has a scary ass callsign like Guillotine (which is Fallbeil in German) despite him being a cinnamon roll would be the funniest thing in the world. || cross-posted on ao3

===

The first time you noticed something was because Hangman had that stupid ass look on his face again. That same one he always had, the only one he had in all honesty. The one that, recently, only ever seemed to be directed at you and that pissed you off most of all.

“What?” He asked, but the smirk pulling his lips back into the stupid, smug fucking smile told you clearly: he knew exactly what.

“Leave her alone, Bagman. I’m not in the mood today,” Rooster said, and you could tell he meant it. HIs voice sounded surprisingly tired considering mornings were his prime time of existence. Maverick insisted on calling these meetings earlier and earlier, chinking away at everyone's stability, and it was proving to be too much for even the earliest of risers.

Hangman scoffed, pressing his hand to his chest, and feigning offense. “Why am I always the bad guy? What if today was the day Fallbeil finally snapped and did something to me instead?”

You rolled your eyes. “If I snapped, you wouldn’t be holding a conversation with me. Your head wouldn’t even be attached to your body.”

“Living up to your name as always, doll.”

Rooster slid into one of the empty chairs at the conference table, slapping down a notebook, and turned to look at you. “I’ll punch him if you want.”

“I’m perfectly capable of throwing my own punches, thank you.” The look on Rooster’s face said he didn’t trust you not to take it too far.

“And coffee mugs.” Hangman glanced over his shoulder; eyes trained on the spot where a cracked, open travel cup lay open. Opened and spilled, everywhere. “Which I managed to dodge.”

“Try to dodge my-” but your insult was cut short by Rooster saying, “Coffee? You hate coffee.”

You set your lips in a thin, embarrassed line. “He told me that it was tea.”

“And you believed him?” Rooster snorted.

You slunk back into your chair, crossing your arms with a pout. “It’s early! I’m basically the walking dead right now, birdbrain.”

As with every mission of this sheer level of importance, your anxiety had been too great to let you sleep. Usually Bob or Phoenix or Rooster, the early risers of the group, would be up to go for a job or hit the gym with you. You were up well before all of them today and had taken it upon yourself to go for a run, shower, and be painfully early to this briefing. You had hoped Bob would be the first one there, he typically was, but the universe was out to get you because instead of those sweet, doe eyes behind some thick-lensed glasses all you got was a stupid pair of lips messing with a toothpick.

“Don’t be too hard on, Rooster.” Phoenix called out, walking into the hangar with Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote in tow. “I already smoked him during our run this morning. He’s fragile.”

Before Rooster could get all up in arms or Hangman could jump on a moment of vulnerability, Maverick walked in. He had his way to the head of the table while everyone else found their seats. “Good morning, everyone.” Tired, disjointed voices repeated the sentiment, pulling a smile onto Mav’s face. “I see we’re all ready for a busy day. What do you say we get started?”

“Sorry, I’m late, sir!” Bob’s voice comes from behind you. “I couldn’t find the kettle.”

Kettle, you thought to yourself, but Maverick just waved for him to sit down and continued talking. Before Bob headed over to the only open seat, by Hangman of all people, he placed a small cup of tea in front of you without a word. In your favorite mug, too. You brought it up to your lips to taste it… and it was perfect. Exactly the way you liked it.

‘Thank you,’ you mouthed at him after he sat down. Bob just nodded and focused his attention on Maverick. You did the same, not even registering that he didn’t have a cup of anything for himself.

–

The second time you noticed something nice Bob did for you was during poker night. Fanboy and Payback had decided tempting fate and coming out the other side had bonded you all for life. A point any of you could hardly disagree with. That mission was not something any of you were supposed to come back from. So, the idea of a movie night had been tossed around, but Payback always tried to guess the endings and Hangman tried to outdo the one-liners and Rooster just had to know if he knew that actor from another movie - needless to say, movie nights were shelved very fast.

Then the idea of bar hopping came about, followed by karaoke night, followed by trivia night. Each of which ended up in all of you spending too much money on booze and drunkenly embarrassing yourselves with horrible vocals or blatantly wrong answers to obscure history questions. You all settled on the idea of a game night. It seemed to work well enough. A ‘family’ dinner followed by a board game. Except for the fact that Payback instead of placing bets no matter if it was CandyLand or Monopoly, which Coyote would double, and Hangman would triple. Leaving you all spending just as much money as you had at the bar.

It was Bob who brought up the idea of having poker nights. Something with betting already designed into it so that none of you had to worry about emptying your bank accounts at the end of the night. That was the problem with setting elite competitors against one another, they never knew when to quit.

You’d all been kept relatively close to TOPGUN, usually stationed a few hours away max. Months where distance wasn’t a problem, you all tried to meet once a week. If one of you weren’t stateside, then once a month worked just fine. Six months into poker nights so far and you’d been able to have at least one every month. Every time the list of things to bring shifted down a person, so that each time a new person would be in charge of chips or appetizers or the main entree, etc. It was a system that worked with military precision.

Until the one time it didn’t.

Bob was the last through the door of Payback’s small apartment. At least, it looked small with so many people crammed in there. “Here, I got special plates this time.” He raised them high above his head like a prize. Large, sturdy, and compartmentalized. Like the trays you’d get in the mess hall or for a school lunch.

The statement caused immediate uproar.

“I was on plates and napkins!” Coyote said around a mouthful of sour cream and onion chips, brought by yours truly. And Hangman started making comments about how if no one was going to follow the list, then he wasn’t going to either.

“You weren’t in charge of plates, Bob!” Fanboy tried his best not to get too worked up over it. He had created a spreadsheet of everyone’s responsibilities. Verifying everyone knew their roles was his main role in making sure this whole operation ran smoothly. “Please tell me you still brought dessert.”

“I’ve got dessert. My grandma came out this weekend and made a peach cobbler.”

The mention of his grandma’s baking ensured the pitchforks and torches were put away, for now. That woman had godly skills in the kitchen. You would gladly sit down and eat an entire cobbler of hers by yourself in one sitting.

Coyote, still hurt by his duty being impeded on, asked, “So then what are the plates for?”

“Fallbeil doesn’t like when her food touches,” Bob said as though it were the most common knowledge in the world. “You guys always insist on getting plates that are way too small.”

He set down the plates on the counter, followed by the pie, and went to take off his shoes and didn’t bring anything like that up again for the rest of the night.

–

The third time you noticed something nice that Bob did for you was a day he had to leave early. A helicopter was coming to pick him and Phoenix up to take them overseas. Just for a few days, or so said those in charge, and you knew how easily a few days could change to a few weeks to a few months.

The thought of possibly not seeing them for a while aggravated you. It meant being stuck on a ship hundreds of miles from the nearest shore without your two best friends. You’d known what you were signing up for when you first started. The military liked to keep their secrets. At any moment you could be swept away for a mission, but it still felt unfair when you woke up only to realize that your wingwoman and her WSO are replaced by strangers.

Back soon, take care.

Not signed but the handwriting was so obviously Bob. Cursive with careful, purposeful loops. Hangman tried to tear him apart for taking so much care in his notes during the pre-briefs before the uranium mission. The insults died out fast once everyone realized he had chicken scratch for handwriting. Funny how spreading a rumor Hangman deserved the callsign Rooster over Bradley could put him in his place so quickly.

Back soon, take care.

You stared at the sticky note, so carefully pressed against the outside of your locker. It was easy to imagine the conversation among him and Phoenix.

“I’m leaving her a note.”

“She’ll be fine, Bob. We’ve got to go.”

“Four words.”

He’d gotten into the habit of leaving sticky note updates in between lengthy letters. They held more emotion than an email or text, and you found that you liked it more than digital words on a screen. You could trace your fingers over each letter. Pretend as though he were pressed up in the seat next to you like when you’d go to the Hard Deck on a busy night and everyone would shove together in a few booths. A closeness you’d found yourself longing for in all moments spent together despite there being no reason for the two of you to share an armchair in the common room.

You had crushes before. A few relationships littered your history of schooling, but you, like many others who had graduated from TOPGUN, assumed the sky was to be your first and only love. And then Bob showed up with his quiet, gentle ways and your heart would soar every time he walked into a room. There were days you went without talking, but you could count on some kind of a note to be waiting for you on your door or waiting for you on the control of your jet.

Reminders that he was thinking of you. The way a best friend would. Surely. That’s all it had to be. No sense in constructing something out of nothing. Something that could wreck this perfect routine the two of you had created in one another’s lives.

You peeled the sticky note off the front of your locker to place inside, out of harm's way. Your finger traced each letter. It was likely he and Phoenix were off somewhere with Coyote or Rooster or Hangman doing something far more dangerous than the intelligence patrol you’d been assigned to. As you swung open your locker, you wished you’d had enough sense to write him a letter before he’d left. Something reminding him and Phoenix to be safe, but you hadn’t known he was leaving. You hadn’t even let the thought cross your mind.

“Oh, Bob,” you sighed.

A smile tugs its way onto your face. He’d left a mug in your locker. Not filled with tea this time, but with pens and highlighters and all your favorite stationary to use on your paperwork. You usually had a pencil case with you filled with pens that flowed smoothly and didn’t smudge or highlighters that didn’t bleed through the page.

He must have packed extra in his bag in case you’d forgotten that pencil case, which you had. But that wasn’t the best part. Somehow he’d managed to keep a rose alive and blooming to stick amongst the stationary. For, what it seemed to you, the sole purpose of making you smile.

–

The fourth time you noticed something nice that Bob did for you was at Coyote’s birthday cookout. You were running late. Very late. More late than you’d ever been in your whole life to a point that you would have turned around if you could have, but you had been stuck on a highway without an exit for miles on end. The need to pee had never been stronger.

Stuck in the literal sense. Construction fed into traffic fed into cars stopping for no reason at all fed into fender benders fed into your frustration. “Please just move!” You shouted at the trail of brake lights in front of you. All you had to do was make it to the next exit two miles away.

But no one met your frustrated request. Instead, the standstill continued. You were destined to never arrive at this party. It had been weeks since you’d seen everyone together in one spot. Poker night had been postponed to tomorrow. Bound to be a dismal affair of hangovers and stale chips left out in bowls overnight. A slice of heaven on earth. Though, you would say that for just about anything if it meant being released from a fucking prison of a car.

Your phone went off. The distinct sound of big band music filling your car. Bob’s ringtone.

“Where are you?” His voice came through the other line at the same moment you shouted, “I want to rip my head off!”

An amused chuckle filled your car which only caused you to fume further. “I’m serious, Robert. This two-hour drive has become four- maybe five. I lost count when I had to come to a full and complete stop for the three millionth time today. It would be so much easier if Coyote had a runway in his backyard. Then I could just fly there-”

“Fallbeil,” Bob cut in, “are you almost here?”

“I’m a mile from my exit. I should be there in twenty. If I’m allowed to take my foot off the brake for more than a few seconds.” You let out a loud groan. “I’m going to stop at a gas station because I think my bladder might explode. So expect me in thirty actually-”

Bob laughed and spoke once more, saving you from yet another breathless tangent. “I’m excited to see you.”

You smiled to yourself. Grinning at the stopped cars in front of you like an idiot. “Yeah?”

“Have I ever not been?”

“I’m excited to see you too.” You could envision Bob’s own shy grin. No, you couldn’t hear the sounds of the party going on around him. He had closed himself off alone in a room to talk to you, which would mean the smile would be big and beaming. “Coyote enjoying himself?”

“I think he might have cried when Natasha put on the birthday playlist she made for him.”

“She’s good at that.”

“Good?” Bob laughed. “She’s elite at it.” Then, after a moment of comfortable silence fell over the two of you he said, “Want me to stay on the phone until you show up?”

If it were a normal poker night, you would have jumped on the offer. Phone calls with Bob had become a staple in that routine in one another’s lives. Letters and notes were not nearly enough to tide the two of you over. But today was a special occasion.

“No,” you told him. “I’ll be there soon.” He deserved to go enjoy the party. Not be tied up in a phone call where you were bound to blow your lid if the car in front of you did not speed up.

“Be careful. Drive safe.” The line clicked.

Be careful, you turned the words over in your head wondering what they would sound like punctuated with a kiss every morning when you headed out the door.

You turned down Coyote’s street, knowing exactly what you’d find. Cars taking every spot. Coyote was the most popular out of the crew. Charming personality, willingness to help everyone so much as passing by, and good looks. The combination needed for a party of the century.

And the shouts of excitement that flowed from his backyard told you just that was happening. Without you, and it would continue to go on without you if you couldn’t find an open spot to park. Bob waited at the end of Coyote’s packed driveway, hands stuffed into his jeans. A surprising amount of muscle strained beneath the button up shirt he wore to every part. More cars shoved onto the asphalt and spilled over onto the lawn.

Bob waved, waited patiently for you to park the car in the middle of the street, and then came around to the driver's side of the car. “Hey,” he said as he popped open your door. “How was the drive?”

You shot him a look. One that immediately set that bright, beautiful smile on his face. “Funny.”

“Here, get out.”

“What?”

“Get out. Go inside and say hi.” He leaned over to unbuckle you and the scent of his cologne tickled your nose. “I have a plate of food for you in the oven, on low so it stays warm. There’s one in the fridge too with the cold stuff.”

“Bob-”

“They’re all separated.” He waved you out of the car, grabbing your hand to help, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, Fallbeil.”

You saw him again ten minutes later because he had to park two blocks away and walk back.

–

The fifth time you really noticed Bob going out of his way for you was a few months into the two of you moving in together. Solely as roommates, two best friends making the most of a perfect situation. Rent was going up, you had an extra room, and Bob had just gotten hired as an instructor at TOPGUN. The timing couldn’t have been better.

In truth, nothing could be better. The two of you fit perfectly into each other’s lives. Bob with his early habits. Having tea on the table for you alongside the crossword section of the newspaper he insisted on reading every morning. The hardest word always filled in as a starting point. He’d saved you the frustration of straining your mind over a word you couldn’t have dreamed up in the wildest corners of your imagination.

The preference over sticky notes as communication over texts still remained the same. Left on the mirror in your shared bathroom always signed with “be careful” or “take care.” Sometimes there is nothing of importance to say, but Bob would write those two words anyway as a reminder.

You’d leave voicemails if it was something that needed your immediate attention - talking on the phone to Bob became a bright spot in your week. You tried your hardest to leave them only for emergencies but hearing his voice every day had spoiled you. Sometimes your mind would lock on something you would absolutely have to tell him. Then you would find yourself pulling out your phone, typing in his number, and putting it away with a great sigh. You had planes to fly, he had students to teach, and the torture of being apart for a few hours each day made returning home to him all the sweeter. Returning home to movie nights or long walks on the beach or stories of students who remind Bob of each member of the Dagger Crew.

Phoenix would crash often when she got called back to TOPGUN, and Bradley hung around often enough seeing that Mav and Penny had made their lives here. Everyone cycled through at some point. Even Hangman had a welcome place on your couch if he ever needed it.

There was one night Jake had spent the night. Out of the blue and completely inconvenient as was the case with Hangman, but he offered to cook dinner while the two of you were at work and you came home to a good meal and surprisingly good company. What a sight to see the three of you laughing at a small table.

You hadn’t minded Hangman staying over. Though he did scare the shit out of you when he knocked on your door and let himself into your room to talk. “You know he likes you,” he had said, perched on the corner of your bed with that same stupid ass look on his face that meant trouble. “I think he might even be in love with you.”

“Bagman-”

“Hey, I come in here to tell you some life-altering news and you start with insulting me.” Hangman had let out a low whistle. “Think about it, Fallbeil.”

“What if it ruins everything? We’re doing so well.”

“What if it changes everything for the better?”

You hadn’t expected those words to play in your head as often as they did when Hangman finally left. It had been weeks since you’d last seen him. Poker night was tonight. He was hosting, and you had a feeling he was going to corner you with all sorts of questions as to if you’d made a move on Bob yet. A foolish notion. Bob might not be a skittish dog, but making a move on him still might cause spontaneous combustion. You were just trying to figure out which one of you it would be.

What could be the right time to tell your best friend and roommate that you loved him? That you have always wanted to be more?

You thought it over as you wiped sleep from your eyes and made your way into the bathroom. Bob had left earlier than usual this morning. It was a test day for the students and he was nothing if not prepared. Likely that kind, painfully chirpy teacher in the early hours of the day.

There was a sticky note on the mirror. As expected. Longer than usual. Unexpected.

Took your car this morning. Saw you needed an oil change. Be home late, then he can head to Bagman’s. Hope that’s okay. My keys are on the counter. Be safe. Love you.

You traced those last two words with the tip of your finger. It was the first time he’d added those two words.

And they fit so naturally on the note. Like they always belonged there.

–

The one time (the first time) you realized you were going out of your way to do things because you loved Robert Floyd when you went into the mall with a head full of ideas to get for Rooster’s birthday and came out twenty minutes later with one thing. One thing not for Rooster.

A model plane for Bob. Before he’d gotten so overwhelmed with his responsibilities at TOPGUN to cease having many hobbies, he’d built model planes. It’s what had gotten him into a love of planes. At least, that’s what he had told you one night at the Hard Deck, when the two of you were shoved up against one another.

Growing up in a small midwestern farm town didn’t give him many chances growing up to be around planes, but he’d watch the ones that flew over crops with rapt interest. He memorized flight patterns, sat alongside fields, and watched them every chance he got. Then, in the late nights where he only had his imagination to keep him company, Bob built model planes and memorized their histories.

“I’ve always wanted to be around planes.” He had slurred the words a bit back then. One too many sips of beer between handfuls of peanuts. “I kept them around me as much as I could.”

You hadn’t been able to figure out how crop planes became fighter jets in his history, but more stories came out as the two of you moved in together. Dismissive comments about school bullies. Talks about how he knew he wasn’t the strongest, but had always felt the need to prove himself. It seemed to fit into this idea people created of him - always a bit behind the rest. You respected him for sticking to what people told him he couldn’t do and making a name for himself in spite of it all.

And you loved that he trusted you enough to bring you in on those hobbies of his. Building fighter jets in the low light of desk lamps and night lights. Reminding you of the purpose of each piece. Telling the history of each plane. But your favorite part of all was when the two of you would build a jet you were flying and he would include all your statistics, everything you’ve accomplished, and, when you caught him in rare form, things Bob imagined you would do that would etch your name into the very fabric of history.

“Did you get a present for Bradley?” He asked, hearing the click of the door behind you. There was a rag thrown over his shoulder. Bob turned to face you with a smile. In the midst of cooking, glasses slightly fogged from whatever it was he was cooking, and your heart couldn’t take it.

“N-no,” you said, tripping up on your words. “I, um, I forgot.”

“But on the phone you said you couldn’t wait to show me what you got?” He tilted his head, watching as you kicked off your shoes, and placed your shopping bag on the table. “I hope you’re not trying to sign your name onto my gift, Fallbeil. I spent three months finding a vintage record of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ for him.”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness. “No, Robert, I will not steal credit for your gift. He’ll know it’s from you anyway.” You took a deep, shaky breath. “I got something for you instead.”

Bob’s brows scrunched in confusion. “Me, but it’s Bradley’s birthday?”

You pulled the model F-18 from the bag and held it out towards him. Your hands shook slightly. Silly considering the two of you were always going out of your way to do things for each other. Plates and oil changes and parking cars. Small things. Nothing as momentous as a declaration of pure understanding of one another.

He said your name with a softness you’d never heard before. As though he were praying.

“I love you.” You said it at the same time as him. And the words fell so naturally from both your lips. Like they always belonged there.

===

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