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pinkrelish · 1 year

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶On Monday, he was a ghost. By Friday, he was a man. Saturday night? He was the unintentional third wheel to your and Adrie's Trick-or-Treating antics.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, reader wears eddie's jacket, light angst, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 4/20 [wc: 10.8k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 4: Ghost Days

Eddie went through Monday like a ghost.

A spectacle in his youth, now a specter. A phantasm phasing through walls. Not a hello, nor a goodbye. Existing in the corners of the room, watching. No attention on him, just working, and thinking. Tending to his dying garden of thoughts when the sun didn’t shine. Moving around you, and the tug of your gravitational pull, with your gaze firm on the desk in front of you, not on the haunt who brought this upon himself, and hurt you in the process.

“You okay, Eddie?” his uncle asked, running a hand up and down his back. “You’ve been staring at that pot of boiling water for ten minutes.”

Eddie fluttered his lashes at the bubbles bursting on the surface. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind.”

————

Tuesday, Wednesday he was a full-body apparition.

No morning smiles, no afternoon laughter, but a single sentence.

“Oh!” You hugged the files to your chest, not knowing Eddie was passing in the hallway to break room right as you were leaving Mr. Moore’s office. Several of the papers crinkled from running into him. Your eyes were screwed shut, expecting an impact. All signs Eddie was real; a thing of worth, a precious brick wall who cupped your arm when you stumbled, who slotted his thumb in the crease of your inner elbow. A chest to brace your hand against. Fingers grasping his dirty coveralls. He was there. He caught you.

And the next day–

“Eddie?”

Your sudden presence scared him. He slammed his black spiral-bound notebook shut and kept his palm over the devil-horned skull he drew on the front.

Sat alone at the table to eat his lunch, the low drone of the vending machines camouflaged the sound of you approaching, and he was too absorbed bin what he was writing down to notice you had entered the break room. Did not realize how close you had gotten until the heel of your palm pressed into a particularly sore muscle in his back from how you steadied yourself on his chair as you bent over.

You picked your gaze up from the notebook, and landed on his eyes. Even if you didn’t mean to, the knot between your brows relaxed the smallest degree–a nearly imperceptible amount–but with how he drank in your appearance, he detected it.

“You wrote O2 for this part here, did you mean X2?” you asked, referring to the invoice in your hand. He watched you bring the question to life. Voice and lips working together to create a lullaby for the unrest in his head. Breath cooling the wet trace of his tongue on his lips.

He was desperate for interaction. He knew. You were too. You just hid it better.

“Eddie,” you reminded him, keen on the five-o’clock-shadow peppering his cheek from neglecting a shave.

If things were different, would you have caressed your thumb along the grain? Would you have pushed his bangs off his forehead, run your fingers through his hair, and pressed your lips to the delicate curve of his temple? Would you tell him he was a good dad for fixing the water heater again, and getting his daughter to school on time, even when he wanted to do nothing more than lay on the couch and cry?

“X2,” he confirmed, “Yeah, I meant X2. Sorry.”

————

Thursday? He was corporeal.

Carl returned from his stay-cation. Stay-at-home-vacation, also known as his wife’s birthday.

He was taking a break in his story to microwave his lasagna when the fading voice of a customer went out the front door, ringing its chime. There was shuffling in the lobby. A backpack being unzipped.

The microwave beeped, and Carl picked up his container with the tips of his fingers, bringing it over to the table, where he sat in the chair facing the hallway.

You walked in with your lunch container, saw the back of Eddie’s head, and walked out.

Carl watched Eddie’s demeanor wilt at the swift exit, gaze falling to the corner of his eyes in acknowledgement of where you were just standing. Face blank, except for the heavy depression drifting his eyelids half-closed. Posture sagged more than normal.

“Is Adrie excited for Saturday?” Carl asked, keeping the conversation light, because boy, did he know that heartbroken look.

“Mm?” Eddie jerked his head up, attentive. He processed the question, and crowded his packed mish-mash of leftovers to his chest, chewing his horrible attempt at replicating Wayne’s pork chop supper as he talked, “Oh, yeah, yeah. Free candy and seeing her friends? She’s been bouncing off the walls all week.” He stabbed an undercooked carrot and brandished it with the same motion he rolled his eyes. “But,” he drew out for comedic effect, “She wanted to dress up as a bat again. Great! Same as last year. No problem, right? So, I take out her costume from the closet, have her try it on, and you know what she says?”

Carl shook his head with a slow grin stretching across his face.

“It’s not pretty enough!” Eddie ate the carrot. “She never wants to be a princess, but all her friends do, and now she’s gotten it in her head that if her costume doesn’t have the same glitter and pizzazz theirs does, it’s not good enough.”

He laughed, “My boys were easier. When they fought over who got to be Donatello, and who got to be Michaelangelo, all we had to do was switch mask colors and weapons.”

“See, they knew what they were doing with the Ninja Turtles, man. Easiest costumes to reuse.”

“Exactly.”

“Now I gotta figure out how to navigate telling her most of the stores are sold out of everything.”

“It’s a toughie, that’s for sure.”

The conversation ended with two knowing nods, sharing the same shallow gripes about parenthood. Carl finished his meal first, and left the table to return to work, while Eddie picked away at his, submerging himself in his thoughts.

A recent drizzle cast Hawkins in a misty haze. The drink machine clicked, and the steady hum rose to a higher frequency. Footsteps squeaked down the hallway. The nervous hand of a once confident woman gripped the doorframe, and she leaned into the room, speaking in a small voice, “I can help.”

Eddie perked up. Head visibly lifting, shoulders drawn back and down. He didn’t respond. Not until he turned around in his chair, and you persevered through the awkward amount of eye contact; wide and unblinking.

You reiterated, “I can help fix up Adrie’s costume so it’s glittery.. Or whatever you said.” Totally not eavesdropping. You waited for a response. “More her style,” you mumbled, filling the void when he forgot what words were.

“Y-Yeah! That–Uhm.. Yeah, you have that kind of stuff?” He clutched onto the back of his chair, knuckles white, bending the plastic from the weight he leaned on it. His face was of equal intrigue, eyes pleading for more interaction, lips parted for more questions, eyebrows pinched in and upwards to show his humility. His thanks.

In a valiant effort for normalcy, you started with a self-deprecating comment, “I mean, it’s not like I was performing on Broadway with a whole costuming department’s worth of tailors, you know. Bobbie and I had to pull all-nighters to finish our own shitty ensembles, so I’m pretty handy with a glue gun, and my sewing skills are serviceable, if I do say so myself.” You stepped further into the break room to put your unfinished lunch in the fridge. “I have tons of fabric and crafting supplies left over. Seriously, I don’t mind spicing up her costume if you wanna bring it by tomorrow. I think I can make something she likes.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to–”

His mouth sealed itself shut at the incremental smirk sneaking its way across your face.

“Well, you see,” you said, exuding pure charisma, “Now you’ve gone and phrased it in a way which enacts my policy. I have to say ‘yes.’”

Given his current state, Eddie was little more than a mess of nerves; sleeping in uncomfortable positions that had his bones aching due to Adrie’s fear of monsters under her bed sending her to sleep with him on the couch; along with the general up-and-down rush of stress when he passed by your desk, and nothing came of his sad glance in your direction.

Unfiltered relief slipped past his chapped lips as he looked up at you, “Thank you.”

————

By Friday, he was a man.

Eddie skipped his morning cigarette. He wore his lucky Metallica t-shirt under his coveralls. Adrie had to beg him to release her from his powerful hug this morning, flailing her arms and pretending to choke, until the other parents in the carpool lane stared, and he relented.

He walked into the garage’s lobby with sure steps, making a quick stop behind the receptionist desk to drop off a neatly folded pile of black fabric. Then, he looked down the shadowed hallway leading to the lively break room, and he breathed deep.

You were framed by the doorway. Your back was to him, bent over the sink, just beginning to wash the coffee pot.

One thing was for certain.

If anything ever happened between you two and it didn’t pan out, work would be weird. That much he learned this week. And that was just another reason to keep his boundaries up. Another good fucking reason to apologize, turn around, and go back to being cordial work buddies, and have that be the extent of your relationship.

And yet, here he was, flirting with the ring of fire he lit himself.

Crossing his arms, he squeezed his biceps, and leaned his shoulder on the wall outside the room, mind racing as he organized the same speech he rehearsed hundreds of times this morning. “Can we talk?”

Now, the unfortunate thing about rehearsing one-sided speeches was the unpredictability of which you’d follow the script.

“If you’re here to apologize–again–for spending a runtime of 83 minutes with me because it was just that awful, I’ll scream.”

Eddie had to manually force himself to relax out of his wince. “I deserved that,” he exhaled, speaking to himself only. He deserved your stern tone, your angry way of scrubbing the pot. The stiffness between your bunched shoulders. The tight annoyance in your throat from the way he treated you.

Yesterday was a nice break from the tension, but he hadn’t yet made amends, despite the olive branch you extended to him in the form of fixing up his daughter’s costume. “What if I apologized for something else?”

“The jury’s still out on that one.”

“Good enough,” he said. “Listen, ah, I’ve been reflecting on what happened Friday, and I realized I came across like an asshole,” –He shut his eyes, and shook his head– “I was an asshole, whether I meant to be, or not. I mean, yeah, I had a lot on my mind, but that doesn’t justify my behavior in blowing you off like that, especially when you were nothing but nice to me when you saw they set us up together, and you just wanted us to have a good time.. I can tell I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”

You rinsed out the soap suds and filled the pot with water, turning off the sink.

There, he apologized, now he should turn around, and go back to being cordial work buddies.

But he was so fucking stupid.

Committing to something he may come to regret, he entered the break room and stopped when he came to the counter beside the sink, bending sideways to rest his arm there, and kicking out his hip. “I didn’t even get to tell you how pretty you were.”

Immediately, you angled yourself away to pull the coffee machine towards you, and poured water into the reservoir.

Eddie let out a groan as his brain caught up with his mouth. “I meant are. How pretty you are..” he spoke at your back while you still refused to acknowledge him. “I meant to say how pretty you are.”

His stomach seized. None of this was going how he planned, so.. fuck it. “I think you’re really pretty right now, actually.”

Nothing seemed louder than his quick breaths, and heart beating in his throat.

The longer you went silent, he considered getting a new job bagging groceries for the supermarket they built on Cherry Street last year.

You slotted the pot onto the hot plate, and opened the cabinet in front of you, blocking his view of you as you reached for the coffee container. But when you closed the door, he had to clench the tremble of annoyance out of his hands.

Try as you might–lips scrunched to the side, cheeks sucked in, making a big production of counting the spoonfuls of grounds you scooped into the filter basket–your smile was obvious. Obvious, and irritating; leading him on as if his advances were a worse offense than his attitude after your date.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed like you were doing him a favor. “I guess you’ve appealed to my ego enough for me to forgive you.”

“You’re the absolute worst person I’ve ever–”

“Yeah. But you think I’m pretty.”

“Whatever,” Eddie grunted, tugging a strand of hair over his mouth, embarrassed to hear his own honesty repeated back at him. “So we’re good?”

You had a sarcastic statement ready on your tongue–he saw it in how you narrowed your eyes, and tipped your head. A loftiness to the way you regarded him; all pompous and teasing and so sure he was being silly and asking questions for the sake of bothering you.

Then, you witnessed his shy quirk, and were instantly disarmed.

“Yes, Eddie, we’re good. The best of friends.. And are you sure you weren’t disappoint–”

“If you’re about to ask me if I was disappointed that you were my date for the third time, I’ll scream.”

You laughed. You tore your gaze from his fingers playing with his curls, and closed the lid of the coffee machine, but in doing so, you turned away, and you both discovered a subtle truth about him.

Eddie was the type who wanted to witness the full scope of the joy he brought on others. When he made someone laugh, he wanted to drink it all in. He wanted to observe the exact way they smiled, how far back they threw their head, if their eyes closed with mirth, if tears sprang, if they giggled to appease him, or if they were expelling a cathartic release. When he made someone happy, he leaned in to hoard the revelry, collect it, and share it. Seeking out their gaze, mirroring them to experience their pleasure first-hand. It’s what made him happy.

It caused him to encroach on their personal space subconsciously, pursuing the pride, and sense of achievement he felt when he accomplished making someone else feel good.

He stood close to you. Very close to you, studying you unabashedly, basking the pure unadulterated validation of making you smile.

You idly scratched your thumbnail over a stain on the counter. “Pretty, huh?” you mused quietly. “Is the hoodie really doin’ it for ya?” It was once black, now sun-faded and overwashed. There was a logo on the front for a random high school. Your high school, Eddie assumed. Clearly, a beloved item, and one you wore when doing craft projects, as indicated by the layers of glitter, dried paint, and burn marks from a hot glue gun marring the sleeves.

Still leaned over, he dropped his hand from his mouth, and swept his hair to one side, exposing the length of his throat. “Maybe it is.”

“Shut up,” you snorted.

“The frumpy ‘just rolled out of bed at noon and forgot to get milk at the grocery store’ look really gets me going.”

“Frumpy–?” In the middle of pressing the ON button and shoving the coffee machine into its place on the counter, you went to pin Eddie with a glare for laying the teasing remarks on thick today, but your attention drifted. Your focus found his eyes shining with slyness, and dropped your gaze to the crook of his neck, where you spied something dastardly. “How does this keep happening? Do you not look in a mirror?”

As you nagged him, you reached for his coveralls. Somehow, the collar kept managing to tuck itself on the inside, and you were at its beck and call, slipping two fingers underneath to unfurl it, coaxing it out in a long stroke over the peak of his collarbone, and down the slope of his chest, over his heart. Longer than two beats worth. The fabric was quite rolled up today. You had to slide along his lucky shirt to find the pointed end, and pull it out, laying it flat. Smoothing down the edges, and securing his tan work jacket over it. Patting them both to seal the kind gesture.

From his periphery, he watched you tend to him, and his smirk grew.

Fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Guess I don’t look at myself too often,” he said, eyeing your hands lingering on his person–flattening your palms over his pec for a prolonged moment before retreating–and he nodded for you to follow him out of the room to your desk. He needed the extra seconds away from you to rid himself of his smugness.

Talking about the costume, he rounded to the taller side of your desk, while you sat opposite him in your chair, “Luckily it was big on her last year, so it still fits. It’s just a little short in the legs.”

“Gotcha.” You shook out the bat wings and rubbed the fuzzy material of the suit between your fingers. “Does she have room for another layer underneath? Warm pajamas, or something? The temperature’s supposed to drop tonight. I think a cold front is coming in.”

“Yeah, there’s room.”

“Okie dokie.” You cracked your knuckles and looked at him expectantly. He raised his eyebrows. You raised yours higher. You made a more obvious face. He made a confused one back at you. “Dude, leave. I can’t work with you watching me.”

He curled his lip in a mocking sneer, and went to work in the garage, where–ironically–you could watch him.

~~~

Turns out, you were serious about the double standards of your relationship.

Eddie caught you sneaking glances in his direction whenever he’d wheel out from underneath a car, or when he was bent over the engine of a truck, but as soon as he took his sweet time locating his favorite socket wrench from the tool cabinet (that most definitely wasn’t already in his back pocket), you blocked your project with your body and moved your lips like you were telling him off.

And when he knocked on the glass to gesture for more clean rags from the supply closet, you scrambled to hide the felt shapes you were cutting out, and sent a tube of glitter paint rolling across the lobby.

Even as he relaxed into the plush seat of his car after a long day of work, and the rumble of the engine soothed his mind from exterior worries, his eyes traveled from the bright red stop light swaying in the wind, to the custom crimson interior of his Dodge Omni Shelby, to the pile of black fabric next to him.

He drove with one hand on the wheel. He could just.. take a peek at what the hell you were doing all day.

“Don’t even think about peeking! It’s a surprise. I want Adrie to see it first, and then you can look when she’s trying it on.”

He snatched his wandering fingers away from the bat wing and cupped them around his inner thigh–his usual place for resting them.

~~~

When he opened the door to his trailer, the little lady of the hour came running at him full-speed.

“There’s my facehugger!” Eddie announced through his laugh, stepping backwards to soften the blow of her enthusiasm. And yeah, maybe he shouldn’t refer to his daughter as a parasitic alien from a horror franchise, but the clinginess comparison was accurate.

Adrienne made her immediate attempt to climb him known–clutching onto the hem of his work jacket, and shaking it. “Daddy!” she demanded, making grabby hands at him.

“Hold on, hold on.” He knelt to her level, and promised to pick her up in a few minutes if she exhibited an ounce of patience. “You remember that nice lady from work you drew pictures with?” Thinking about it, she twisted back and forth with excess energy, and gave a big nod, pressing her fingers along her smile. “Well, she heard your costume wasn’t up to your standards, so she wanted to make your Halloween extra special this year. She worked on this all day..” he said slowly, drawing out the grand reveal.

True to his word, Eddie unfolded the outfit he had clutched under his arm, and held it out in front of him, showing it to her first and watching her reaction.

Uncle Wayne opened the bathroom door in the midst of tidying up his beard, dragging a towel around his neck to wipe away the excess shaving cream. Interested in the commotion, and especially curious as to why the person he referred to as his own granddaughter was currently running around the coffee table screaming at the top of her lungs, he questioned anyone who could hear him, “What’s all this goin’ on?”

“The lady at work made my bat costume pretty–Look!” Adrie tugged on the bottom of Wayne’s flannel.

“I see,” he said, vaguely recalling the young receptionist she was referring to. He raised his eyebrows at Eddie. “She did all that?”

He shrugged. “She’s nice.”

Too excited, Adrie unzipped the back of the jumpsuit and climbed in while Eddie held it open. Still, he did not peep at the finished product. Not until every foot wiggled out of the appropriate amount of leg holes, and every sleeve found a hand.

Adrienne walked backwards into the living room and struck a pose with her arms out, flapping them.

Wayne ‘aww’d and clapped.

Eddie sat back on his calves, mouth slightly agape.

You really were nice.

The costume was magnificent. The black fleece was painted with thin strokes of white paint to give the illusion of hair, with special attention around the turtleneck collar where you glued white faux fur into a short mane. Cleverly, the pants were extended with layers of iridescent tulle that caught the light in shimmery rainbows, disguising how short they were on her.

The wings themselves were works of art. Showstoppers. Instead of hanging limp from under her arms, you had used flexible plastic to create bones, giving them some structure.

They were exactly what Adrie wanted. Silver glitter served as a mere backdrop to the myriad of foil stars glued to the fabric. As one’s attention panned downwards, they grew in size and frequency, until there was a disco ball amount of flash and pizzazz. To top it all off, there were felt clouds and crescent moons dangling on strings from the bottom. The stuffed and stitched celestial motifs swung with Adrie’s grand gestures.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Wayne picked up two little black triangles that bounced onto the carpet when Eddie revealed the costume. “C’mere, Adrie,” he said, holding them up to her head. “You’ve got two little ears on barrettes, too.”

“Jesus,” Eddie exhaled.

His next breath caught in his throat. He discovered why you snipped the fabric where it was previously attached to the suit, and gave it an extra bone structure to wrap around.

It was so he could slip his arms around his daughter, and hug her tight without any impediments. “You like it, yeah?”

She threw her arms around his neck, and imbued all her surprise into her little voice, “Are you kidding me? It’s my favorite–the best costume ever! I love it.”

“We’ll have to find a way to thank her when I see her on Monday.”

The hug lasted until Eddie’s knees ached. Still, he clung to her as one clung to a lifesaver. He passed his palm over her hair. He stroked his thumb on the back of her head. He pressed her into the darkness against his throat. He squeezed her to conceal the way he shook. If anyone were to notice the secret of his actions, it would be the person who raised him as one would raise their own son.

Wayne walked over and ruffled his nephew’s hair.

~~~

Later, after Adrie had gone to bed, Eddie confessed, “That took me so off guard, I almost cried. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me, or Adrie, in years.. I mean, outside of everything you do for us. And Steve, too. I just didn’t expect her to put that much effort into a costume.. Or to care that much.”

“I know, son,” Wayne said, patting him on the knee as they sat on the couch, lit by the muted earthy tones of the local news channel. “She seems real nice.”

————

It was a howling Halloween night.

Eddie pulled off the main road into the nice neighborhood on the west side of Hawkins. Everyone knew you went to the rich houses on Halloween, as evident by the agonizing minutes it took to find a place to park, while Adrie was oblivious and just wanted out of her car seat.

Crowds swarmed the doors handing out the best candy. Groups of friends gathered in the streets. Kids ran down the sidewalk to ogle the elaborate decorations. “Is the entire population here, or somethin’?” Eddie grumbled, shifting the gear stick into park.

Once Adrie was out, he asked her, “Do you wanna stop by a few houses on the way to Steve’s?” She eyed the rowdy bigger kids pushing each other on their way up the driveway next to her, and she held out her hand for Eddie to take as a silent answer.

When she was with her friends, she was outgoing, but in this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers in the dark, she needed her dad to guide her.

“You’ll feel better once we have some candy in your bucket,” he promised, swinging the orange jack-o-lantern pail back and forth.

In reality, Eddie dreaded this part. Hated it. Going up to houses, knocking on doors, glancing away the second they were answered. He dressed differently. Tried to blend into the back of a big group. Kept his gaze on his daughter shying behind his legs, speaking for her, and hoping her cuteness distracted the adults from taking too close of a look at him. Shuffling away before they could recognize him, remember his last name, and make that same face they always did:

Barely concealed disgust.

Eddie held her hand for several streets until she felt comfortable going up to doors without him, thanks to finding a friend or two from preschool. Those parents were easier. Some he’d gotten to know over the last two years due to birthday parties and school events. Yet, they returned his greeting out of politeness. Waited on the sidewalk like him, but at a distance; in a circle, not inviting him to their grown-up talk.

That’s okay. He felt less alone when Adrie came jogging back to show him her candy. And although she insisted she was a big girl and didn’t need to hold his hand anymore, she walked as if she were glued to his side, three steps to his one stride.

“I don’t need you, Daddy.”

“Yeah, you do.”

On and on, they made their way up the streets, and came upon a white-picket fence dwelling sat modestly between two larger statements, right as the porch light turned off and a group of people left the home.

Fate was a funny thing.

Steve held the gate open for Nancy and whispered something in her ear as she passed, earning a withered glare before she turned and the moon caught the smile flitting across her lips. Behind her, dashing from the shadows, was their son. He held his plastic sword high above his head, and gave a brave battle cry against the person who emerged next.

Robin, also dressed as a pirate, jumped from the top of the stairs and clashed her sword with his. They tussled on their way to the fence, stopping when she feigned a dramatic death, and had to chase down her tricorn hat from rolling into the street.

Eddie’s hand was sweating–Adrie said so with a yuckiness to her words as she ran to join Steve’s son and their group of trick-or-treaters, leaving him behind to stare. And stare. And stare. And try not to burst into a grin.

He wouldn’t have to wait ‘til Monday to thank you.

Step by step, you helped their daughter teeter down the stairs. Patiently holding her hand, encouraging her to the bottom, and brought her to Steve, who was getting out the stroller from the trunk of his car.

“No! I’m–I.. Will walk,” their little girl finished in a disjointed manner, engrossed by the array of bedsheet ghosts, lispy vampires, and corn-syrup-blood-covered werewolves moving around her.

“Yeah, okay, kid,” Steve said sarcastically. “You wanna be a big girl and walk on your own, but we both know after two houses you’re gonna be begging for the stroller.”

Like most girls, she brushed him off, and turned to you for assistance with her jacket. The puffy orange snow suit hindered her movements; her walk was a waddle, and her arms stuck out from her sides helplessly. She was warm, though.

You, on the other hand, were dressed in what Eddie could only call an adult onesie. A fitted one; hugging you in places he shouldn’t notice it hugging you while you were squatting down to zip up her jacket, but a onesie, nonetheless.

“There we go.” He heard you say from where he stood, roughly a car-length away, lurking in the darkness like a creep.

But he’d have to find a way to repent later. His fate tapped you on the shoulder, and his heart set the tempo for his plucky courage’s passion.

“Adrie!” you squealed at her. She greeted you with equal fervor. “Your costume is so, so pretty!” Without a second thought, you bent over, put your hands on your thighs, and asked while waggling your eyebrows, “Wanna fly?”

“Yeah!”

Adrie unveiled her full glittery wingspan, and you clasped her under her arms, instructing her to jump. Up she went. You raised her above you to your full extent and spun in circles. Giggly, messy circles. Showing her off for everyone to see. Parading her for the slew of compliments coming from onlookers. And when your strength tired, you brought her to your hip, and held her tight, still spinning. Dizzy, silly twirls. Savoring the closeness of your foreheads almost touching.

You slowed to stop to scan the scene around you, searching the shapeless night. “Where’s your dad, hmm?”

She pointed behind you.

Over your shoulder, your gazes connected in between a family dressed as Peanuts characters.

Eddie raised his hand, but forgot to move it back and forth.

Your face brightened. The love you showed Adrie reflected in your eyes when you found him. Smiling bigger, somehow, at his stupid wave when he remembered how to perform one.

“Nice costume,” you teased, sauntering up to him with a swagger. “Light-wash blue jeans instead of black. How different.”

“Yeah, and what are you? A cat? So creative.” He meant it as an insult to your gray onesie with a tan belly, but he was the one who followed your quick glance at his stupid hand still waving like an utter moron, and he stuffed his fists in his pockets, wondering if he’d ever recover his dignity after this encounter.

“Uh, I’m clearly a mouse,” you drawled, inclining your head to show off your rounded mouse ears on your headband.

Adrie copied your exact tone and inflection to serve as a gut punch, “Yeah, Daddy, she’s clearly a mouse.”

His greatest fear mocked him. With Adrie on your hip, and your two matching smirks taunting him with your cheeks pressed to one another, he shook his head, and pinched his eyebrows up in worried exasperation. “I don’t need two of you.” A revelation he should take more seriously as you looked at Adrie, and you both giggled. Tips of your noses grazing. Hugging you around your neck. Touching your animal ears and calling you ‘Miss Mouse.’ Thanking you for her costume, and you asked, seeking her genuine approval as you fitted one of her tiny hands in yours to stretch a wing out.

“You like it?”

“I love it!”

You swayed with her in the new position, resembling two people slow dancing despite there being no background music other than shrieks of laughter, and a chorus of “trick-or-treat!”

Yeah, this feeling in his chest was evolving past the boundaries.

Shit.

Eventually you had to support her with two arms again, thus ending your waltz, and you remembered Eddie was there, and Eddie remembered to direct his tender expression at his daughter.

“So, really,” you said, nudging his white tennis shoes and giving him a once-over, “Who’re you supposed to be? A grumpy guy who couldn’t be bothered? A wet blanket?” You leaned in. “Don’t tell me you’re dressed as a stick in the mud for the second week in a row. That’s just gauche, Eddie.”

Adrie latched onto one word specifically. She pointed at him with all her might, and declared, “Grumpy! You’re Grumpy.”

“Great,” he groaned. Yet, there was not a trace of annoyance tugging at his lips–just his tongue poking through as his daughter reduced him to an unpleasant character. “Tell her what movie you watched this morning.”

“I watched Snow White with grandpa,” she said. You gave an understanding ‘ahh.’ “Grandpa is Sneezy. Daddy is Grumpy. You can be..”

“I’ll be Dopey.”

Eddie snorted, “Fitting.” You cut him a soft frown, and he shifted his focus back to his daughter. Eye contact with you was too difficult. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. A single longing look gave away too much, he had to put an end to them. “You think I’m Grumpy, huh?”

She jabbed her finger at him again. “You! Most definitely are.”

The immediate flash of devilry in his eyes was her only warning. “What’d I tell you about pointing at people?” He snatched her wrist in a weak grasp, and lunged at her, snapping his teeth, pretending to bite her finger off with a smile. She scream-laughed and buried her face in your shoulder.

“Aw, it’s okay, Adrie,” you consoled her, “I always knew he was a biter. Lemme count your fingers, ‘nd make sure you have all six.”

“Six?” she cried.

Besotted by your willingness to indulge his humor, Eddie lost track of his inhibitions, and acted on a deep-rooted impulse from his youth, when he was more expressive of his urges. He crept in close while you were busy doting over Adrie, and lowered his face to where he was allowed to whisper in a deeper register, “Hey, no picking on my kid. That’s my job.” To make matters worse, he reached for your side, aimed for your ribs through the single layer of fleece, and prodded. It was a success. You yelped. You were ticklish. Another trait to add to the list of things he shouldn’t know about you.

Steve’s bafflement pierced the rambunctious Jedi fight happening in the middle of the road, “Are you three gonna catch up, or do I need to make you get in the wagon?” he threatened. Sure enough, he was hauling a red wagon of someone else’s kids behind him dressed as various dinosaurs, complete with masks.

More parents had joined the trick-or-treat cavalry, milling about on the sidewalk, waiting for Adrie before they knocked on the next house. You recognized this quicker than Eddie, and offered to take her by, well, simply walking off with her in your arms.

For the first block he was alone with his thoughts. Watching you go from house to house holding his daughter’s hand. Sitting back while you took over for him, and lessened his burdens. When it was you crouched next to Adrie, smiling up at the adults with buckets of candy, they didn’t see Munson. They saw a cute little girl and her supposed mom participating in innocent fun.

“Hey, bud,” Steve said, swinging around to his side, tossing an arm around his shoulders, and shaking him. Eddie could sense the subject he was about to bring up from his consoling squeeze alone. “So, how goes the whole ‘not falling in love’ thing?”

Eddie had his correction at the ready, “I said ‘attached,’ not ‘fall in love.’”

Steve gave him a long, hard stare.

“And I said it was Adrie I was worried about getting attached.”

Steve deepened his stare.

Eddie looked away, then back, then away again. He was quiet for a few strained moments, shuffling his feet while the kids thanked a woman dressed as a witch for her cauldron of candy, and his passing gaze lingered on the Mouse holding his daughter’s hand.

You glanced in his direction, where he stayed on the outskirts of the group, and suppressed a giggle. You were listening to Adrie and her friend’s story about mermaids with full interest, asking questions, and gasping at the information they were disclosing, acting as if they knew the world’s secrets and deemed you worthy of its knowledge.

It was sweet. Endearing, adorable, attractive in the worst ways, and exactly the sort of fun Adrie craved that he couldn’t provide when he was overworked, tired, and stressed to the point of crying frustrated tears.

Except, of course, those bad days had become less and less since you started working at the auto shop..

Eddie surrendered. “How does it look like it’s going?”

“Like you're happier when she’s around,” Steve replied.

“Real good that’s doin’ me.”

They had reached the end of the street, and waited to cross at the stop sign.

Steve shrugged, and said, “I think it’s cute you finally found someone to have a crush on–Ow!” He clutched his side where Eddie elbowed him.

He hissed, “Not so loud,” even though you were several feet away, and talking animatedly with Robin.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s precious.” Lifting his chin, Steve alluded to the way you picked up Adrie and herded the other children across the road like sheep. “Y’know, you were right about her saying ‘yes’ to everything. Her and Robin have some wild stories. Did you know someone came up to them at one of those sleazy hole-in-the-wall bars and asked them to perform on stage–like, obviously meaning you know, stripping–but she accepted his offer, and that’s how they started doing stand up together? Yeah, they just went up there and started shouting jokes at all the drunks. Dodging beer being thrown at them, and whatever. Sounds fun.”

“Yeah, real fun,” Eddie muttered with a horrified expression, wondering how you managed to survive this long with your absurd policy.

“Anyway,” Steve surmised. “I think you should go for it.”

The mood shifted instantly. Eddie’s face went lax, aside from his flared nostrils. He spoke firmly, “I can’t do that, man.”

“Why not?” When Eddie refused to elaborate with a scornful shake of his head, and sudden tenseness to his jaw, Steve softened his nature. He tightened his hold on him in a make-shift hug, and requested, “Talk it out with me. Tell me what you’re going through, and what you want out of this, because you sure do flirt a lot for someone who keeps denying themselves a real relationship.”

“I don’t know what the fuck I want anymore,” he exhaled in mind, body, and spirit. Just a complete depletion of all his anxieties under the weight of Steve’s arm.

Eddie ran his tongue along the back of his bottom teeth while he observed you crouch in someone’s driveway to make a case for Halloween themed pencils, and how they may not be exciting as candy, but there were bats on them, and Adrienne liked bats, therefore, the pencils were cool.

The anxieties were replaced with the blooming realization of how deep his crush went, and the stab of reality pierced the good feelings.

“There’s a million reasons why it’s a bad idea,” Eddie sighed, and gathered his thoughts to list them out as succinctly as possible. “Uh, let’s see. First of all, we’re coworkers, and this week has already been a real glimpse into how this would all pan out if I took the risk and things didn’t work out.”

Steve rocked his head to the side. “Fair, but it’s pretty obvious she likes you too, with how she flirts back.”

“Perfect segue. Okay, so maybe she does like me. But does she like me? And does she like Adrie? Can’t have one without the other. And, man, she made it clear at the movies that she doesn’t even ask if her dates have kids, because there’s never been a second one–a second date, I mean. She’s that casual about it.”

“Why not try something casual, then?”

“When have I ever approached anything casually in my life?”

“You raise a good point there,” Steve answered, shivering at the sudden uptick in frigid gusts biting through his thick jacket.

You and Robin pulled off to the side so your gaggle of kids could take turns stomping on crunchy brown leaves before they blew away.

Ensuring they were at a good distance to watch, but not be overheard, Steve kept his voice low, “What else?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Gee, I dunno, how about the fact she hates this place, and is going to leave eventually? Hate to break it to you, but even if she likes me like that, and even if things worked out for a while, I’m not ready to explain to Adrie why the nice lady she loves so much doesn’t come around anymore.”

“So make her stay around.”

“What?”

Shrugging with that stupid grin of his, Steve explained, nonchalant and lackadaisical, “You said she says ‘yes’ to everything. So just ask her to stay.”

Leaning into it, Eddie pulled an overjoyed face, and threw his arms up, gesticulating overdramatically. “Okay! Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just ask her to marry me, then she’ll be forced to stay in this hellhole with me forever. What a grand idea!”

Steve’s full-bodied laugh sent them both doubling over. “Okay, stud, going straight for marriage. It was just a suggestion that maybe she’s over the crazy party-til-dawn city life, and is looking for.. whatever it is you’ve got.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” he said with more than a hint of sarcasm. Easing out of his glare, he broke himself out of considering Steve’s validation as anything more than an audible feedback loop of the things he wanted to hear, and not the facts he needed to hear. “Doesn’t matter. She could like me, she could not. She could want kids, she could not. She could stay, she could not. I still have to see her every day, regardless. There’s not a lot of other options out there for me, and even if she didn’t want the city life anymore, I don’t think she’s gunning for the single dad whose biggest aspiration is getting a trailer of his own, so his uncle can have his room back.”

Cynicism, cynicism, cynicism. Denial.

Steve’s mouth twisted, and he became serious. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“It’s true, though.”

Ahead, a guy caught Steve’s attention and signaled that it was his turn again on wagon duty, which was the perfect excuse to make his exit because you were standing on your tip-toes, seeking out Eddie in the sea of Stormtroopers. You spotted him and waved with childlike glee, making your way over.

Steve’s hair fell into his eyes as he drew Eddie in. “One last piece of advice,” he began, gaze set on the side of his friend’s face, accepting not even he could win over his attention when it came to existing in the same universe as you. “If you’re serious about not pursuing her, maybe stop looking like you’re gonna blow your load every time she smiles at you.”

Eddie sputtered, “Jesus Christ, dude.”

With that last remark to recover from, Eddie was forced to rearrange his pale face into anything remotely appropriate while Steve got to stroll away as if nothing happened.

“Uh, hey,” he said, eyes scared wide, and showing too many teeth in his tight smile under your scrutiny.

You brought your hand up, and stepped into him until your chests were nearly together. Cocking your head, you pointed at something over yonder, and slowly, unwillingly, he stopped analyzing the nuances of your face to look at the group of kids at the house across the street. One kid in particular. Dressed in black, and with six additional arms dangling from his two human ones.

You couldn’t keep the sheer triumph out of your voice, “That spider is certainly bigger than your palm.”

He winced as if your joke physically pained him. He curled in on himself, and depleted himself of oxygen to groan a long, contemptuous, “So lame,” stressing both words to exaggerate his misery. Shaking his head as if his grievance was anything other than a ploy to discover what it felt like to reject reality, and satiate the envy he felt when Adrie got to be this close to you. Foreheads almost together. Noses almost grazing.

As if your hand trapped between your bodies was anything other than a ploy to rest the backs of your fingers on his chest as you laughed. As you leaned into him. As you tugged on his sweatshirt underneath his leather jacket, begging him to give in until, at last, he broke.

Eddie laughed with you, recklessly.

“Did you really abandon my kid to run over here and tell me that?”

“She’s safe with Bobbie,” you promised in a whisper. “And yes, I did.”

Leaf-shaped shadows danced across you both, cast from the orange glow of the streetlamp above. Autumnal bare branches, electric wires, swaying in the wind, revealing your faces in quick pieces; a wrinkled forehead here, contours of a nose there. Flashes of a puzzle you both collected and assembled in the scarce seconds before it was time to move on to the next house.

You crossed your arms tight over yourself and walked beside him, smiling at the ground.

“How’ve you enjoyed your Halloween experience?” he asked, swinging his arms wide to gesture at Hawkins in general. “I’m sure it’s a lot different than what you’re used to.”

“Oh, I love it!” you said in earnest, surrounded by all the things you’d only seen on screen before. “It’s just like the movies. Trick-or-treating, little kids running around in costumes, the weather, the decorations. It’s surreal. Usually I’d be drunk in a nightclub by now.”

Furrowing his brow, he looked upwards as if he were reading a nonexistent clock, and asked with a twinge of parental disapproval, “Isn’t it, like, 8PM?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, unperturbed. Too impassive to put him at ease. Like you were lording a secret over him. “Don’t act like you weren’t the same before you had Adrie.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Harrington’s been telling me stories about you,” you informed him, and rolled your bottom lip inward, biting it as he zeroed in on your cheeky grin getting a rise out of him.

He squinted at you. “Calling him Harrington, huh? Well, aren’t you two chummy.” Mentally rolling a Nat 20 for Stealth, he lifted his hand to your side without you noticing. “What’d he tell you?”

You made an ‘X’ over your mouth with your fingers.

The perfect position to leave yourself open for attack. I mean, the opportunity presented itself so splendidly, how could he not? How could he resist the greatest temptation?

His impending threat continued to go undetected. Giving you one last chance, he dipped his face to yours–relishing how the apples of your cheeks intruded on your eyes when you smiled this hard, forcing them to scrunch closed–and he asked, “What did he tell you?”

“I’m not repeating!” you giggled.

Oh, you were giggling all right. And in the next gasp, you were squealing, jerking away from him.

Eddie was merciless. His large hands proved too difficult to escape. He poked, prodded. Tickled you until his every, “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” was met with your, “Stop, stop, stop, please!” You fought him fruitlessly, grappling at his forearms, and failing to do little more than slip against his sleeves. He cackled at you. Mocked you with the tip of his tongue to his teeth each time you thought you got away, only to be caught again. You resisted. Resisted. Persevered in the face of evil–knocking your forehead into his chin on accident. Eddie thought you would’ve caved by now, but it was him who stopped; and not because of the unwanted attention your antics drew.

You pried him away from your ribs.

“You’re freezing!” Eddie’s mood changed on a dime at feeling your frigid fingers on top of his. He shifted so that he was enveloping your hands, encasing you in his warmth in exchange for the cold seeping to his bones.

“Yeah,” you answered sheepishly.

“You made a fuss about reminding me to put Adrie in extra layers, but you’re not wearing a jacket?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, distorting your grin. “Yeah.”

“You’re irresponsible, you know that?”

“Yeah.”

“A real bad example.”

“Yeah.”

“An absolute pain in my ass.” Eddie grinned with you. Eyelids falling half-closed. Searing your skin with his heat. Enacting the subtle art of asking questions for the sake of prolonging the moment. Not like it was obvious, given you readily accepted his fingers curled around yours with a coy glint to your gaze. Totally discreet as he let go to shrug off his jacket and hand it over.

Obliging him, you raised your eyebrows. “What a gentleman.” You slid your arms into the sleeves, snuggled into his blanketing warmth, and tugged the collar over your mouth, rendering yourself to a pair of pretty eyes.

He was a goner.

“Tell me what Harrington said.”

“Okay,” you indulged him, breath coming out as a fog. “He said..” You were back to giggling behind the collar, remembering the story. “He said one time at a party there was this big watermelon keg he spent all day working on.” Eddie pressed his lips into a line, knowing where this was going. “He scooped out the innards. Spent painstaking hours cutting up fruit to put inside it and soak up all the rum. And then you wandered in. Already hammered, and you, you–” You snickered and peeled back the collar. “You knocked it over within ten seconds of walking in the kitchen, smashing it everywhere like a crime scene.” You hid behind the collar again, then opened it, voice gone high-pitched with suppressed laughter. “And he said you panicked, and tried to scoop it up in your hands and put it in people’s cups!” More laughter. “And when they said ‘no’ because it was fucking gross floor juice, you tried eating all the fruit yourself.” One more hide and seek of the collar as you lost it in a final squeak, “And you cried!”

He waited until you calmed down to show how thrilled he was in a deadpan tone, “Great, great. I’m so glad he told you that one.”

“It certainly conjures an image.”

Thinking the conversation was over, you took a step in the direction of your trick-or-treat group, but something caught your eye. You tilted your head. He mirrored you, tilting it the same way. You shuffled to the side. He turned with you, more, more towards the streetlamp. Curious as to what you were doing, and why you were staring at his chest, mouthing something.

“What’s Corroded Coffin?”

“Uh–It’s–It’s nothing,” Eddie said a bit too loud, wiping at his sweatshirt like the self-printed logo was a crumb he could discard himself of.

Fortunately, a wild Adrienne appeared, interrupting him from making a bigger fool of himself. “My hands are cold. Can I have my gloves?”

Eddie glided his hands over his stomach out of habit, and realized his pockets weren’t there. Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of his jacket, and yanked you to him, spinning you, manhandling you. Forcing you to catch yourself on his braced muscles–shoulder to his chest, hip to a place he’d rather not dwell on. Not gentlemanly at all.

You released a string of flustered remarks, and pushed away from him, making it appear to be a benign accident in front of his daughter.

“Here,” he said to Adrie, holding the black mittens above her head, out of her reach.

She jumped, and jumped, and stomped. “Daddy,” she whined.

Dusting yourself off from the previous encounter, you agreed, “You’re so cruel, bullying your own child.”

“She knows the magic words,” he led on.

“Please!” She jumped higher, huffing and puffing.

“And?”

“And thank you!”

He relented. His evil reign came to an end. First, the tickling, now, the height advantage over a little girl. He gave Adrie the mittens and she stuck her tongue out at him before bolting off faster than lightning.

It was you turn to poke a stern finger into his ribs. “Awful, awful man,” you scolded him. Unlucky for you, he wasn’t ticklish there, nor was he ashamed of any of his actions these past few minutes. He might come to regret them when you move back to New York and these were the memories he was left with, but he wasn’t ashamed.

No, not ashamed to overstep the boundaries he resurrected in pursuit of happiness. If only a little. Enough to feel the thrill of danger, but remain safe inside his walls.

Casual.

You liked casual.

Fuck what he said earlier. He could keep it casual. He could handle innocent flirting without it getting out of hand.

“We should probably catch up with everyone before they send Scooby and the gang to search for us,” you said, walking backwards, throwing your thumb over your shoulder.

He snorted. “Terrible joke. Are you sure you were a comedian?”

You answered him with two middle fingers, which you promptly put away. Adrie came running back after just one house, hunched over, dragging her feet; hair a loose mess, barrettes dangling. Displaying all the theatrics of her father.

She made grabby hands at you. Not him. And before he could voice his hurt, you scooped her into your arms, and she rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he complained weakly, walking up to you from behind so he could take the treat bucket before it spilled, and talk to Adrie directly. “You told me you were a big girl who could walk on her own, and didn’t need to be held.” Her refute was a babbling grumble laced with fatigue.

Speaking to you, he said, “You don’t have to carry her.”

“I don’t mind. I think they only want to do a few more houses before we head back. Do you wanna join?”

At first, Eddie was quiet, and you spun in a slow circle to see him, catching the end of his wistful expression at the rich neighborhood and its opulent houses owned by affluent people who heard a rumor or two about Munson, and decided he wasn’t worth more than their wary glances when his kid played with theirs.

“Nah, I’m good over here.” He ran his hand over the back of Adrie’s head, and relaxed his stance, staying put.

“Let me help ya out there, Cool Guy,” you said, motioning for him to bend to you. You picked a narrow, apple-red leaf out of his tangled hair, and flicked it away.

“How long has that been there?”

Shrugging your mouth to disguise your beaming grin, you feigned ignorance while walking away. “Who’s to say?”

To further exacerbate his embarrassment into genuine distress, after two Mummies answered the door, and you were coming down the sidewalk, he saw you pull off the side for Steve to pass with the stroller, and you laid your cheek on the top of Adrie’s head. You whispered something in her ear. Something most intriguing, on account of her coming to life, no longer sleepy. The exchange was short; her asking a question, and you answering. But as you nodded with heavy-lidded eyes, and she pressed her fingers to her smile, you both turned, looked at him, and giggled.

Eddie gulped.

He didn’t like this new feeling of you two sharing secrets about him. Especially ones he couldn’t threaten out of you, no matter how many times he put his hands on your ribs.

~~~

As the evening came to a close, Eddie carried Adrie on his hip while you lugged her bucket of sweets. The plastic handle bowed from the weight of the candy, and your fingertips went numb from the burden. And maybe for your troubles, you took a piece. Or two.

The group petered out until it was left to the core of you returning to Steve’s house. The goodbyes were truncated due to the three sleepy kids in tow. You handed off the bucket to Eddie, first asking if he was sure he didn’t need help getting to his car, and when he assured you he was fine, you squeezed Adrie’s ankle and whispered a goodbye she didn’t hear, too lost in Dreamland and drooling on her dad’s shoulder to know the night was over.

He said he’d see you Monday and parted ways, walking in the opposite direction, and you waited at the white-picket fence gate for Robin to stop swapping sneaky peeks at Steve and Nancy to join you.

“Bobbie, I know you don’t want me driving.”

She made eyes at Nancy one last time, and descended the porch stairs at a leisurely pace. “Yeah, we can leave.”

~~~

The drive home was a welcomed respite after the constant overstimulation. The radio was set to low, the heater caressed warmth along your wind-burnt cheeks, the headlights spotlighted deer grazing on the sides of the lonely road. Robin kept lofting soft smiles in your direction, which you returned.

Parking at her parent’s house, you closed the car door behind you, hearing it echo off the forest. The rocky driveway crunched under your shoes on your way to the door. The porch light was on, elongating your shadows across the ground, following you step by step.

“So, you and Eddie, huh?” Robin asked, turning the key in the lock.

You snapped to attention, schooling your features from giving you away. “Just friends,” you reiterated at her suggestive tone. “Just friends and coworkers. He’s dropped more than enough hints that he’s not looking for more.” You finished in more of a sigh, “Not with me, anyway.”

“Is that so?”

Her lopsided smirk struck undesired hope in your heart.

Robin pushed open the door, and curled in her forefinger to tap her knuckle on her upper lip. She dropped her gaze to your general upper body, and hummed, “You, uh.. forget something?”

You looked down at yourself. “Oh–”

————

Eddie dropped his shoulders back expecting to feel something slide down his arms. Then, he patted his chest, and realized. “–Shit.” He stared at his coat hook next to the front door where his leather jacket usually hung, and reprimanded himself in a soft laugh. “Guess I’ll have to get it back on Monday.”

“How much candy can I have?” Adrienne asked, dumping out her bucket on the coffee table, and scrambling to pick up the Tootsie Rolls that fell on the floor. She began sorting into piles of most favorite to least favorite.

“One,” Eddie stated sternly.

He turned on the TV and sat on the couch, decompressing while Adrie cackled over her hoard like Smaug. He should’ve known something was up when she wouldn’t stop giggling to herself.

His suspicions were answered when she turned around to show him the one piece she picked out–perfectly following his rules.

“Uh, absolutely not!” Eddie swiped it from her. “Seriously, who gives out full size Snickers bars on Halloween?”

“But, Daddy, you said!”

Leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs, he demanded her attention before the pitiful crocodile tears started. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, and reached past her for a mini Musketeers to compare. “You can have the Snickers, but you have to share half with me. See, half is still bigger than one of these little ones, so you’ll still be coming out of this a winner. ‘Kay?” She nodded and went to grab it. “But! I don’t want any tantrums when I tell you it’s bath time.” Again, she agreed and he reeled the candybar back into himself, away from her quick fingers. “And! You have to brush your teeth after.”

“I will,” she promised with a deep frown.

“And you still have to go to bed at the normal time.”

Pushing her hair out of her face, she dropped her head in another big nod.

Eddie was satisfied and went to give it to her. But another thought crossed his mind–one of true luxury–and the allure of the idea proved too good to ignore.

Much to her dismay, he snatched the candybar away before she could get a good grasp on it, and he deepened his voice to show he was serious, “And I want to shower. Ten minutes. Uninterrupted.”

She groaned at the ceiling at his never ending list of rules. “Fine!”

~~~

Riding his tingly feel-good high, Eddie opened the bathroom door to let the steam out, and toweled off the fog on the medicine cabinet mirror. He took out his comb and scissors, and sectioned out his bangs.

Brunette snips of wet hair fell in triangles onto his white tank top and around the sink. It wasn’t a noticeable trim, just enough to get them off his eyebrows when dried.

With some amount of clarity, he looked his reflection in the eye as he evened out the cut, and didn’t know if he should be wearing the faint smile he did, or if he should listen to his better judgment, and stop making modifications to his barriers.

He knew you deserved a better life than what Hawkins could offer, but he could enjoy the innocent workplace flirtations, right? They were harmless. Little compliments here and there to boost his confidence. That’s all it was. It’s not like you actually found him attractive, right? You’d been on enough dates to know what to say to a guy. That’s all.

Though, he did need to remember to have a talk with Adrie about setting her expectations and understanding Daddy could have friends without it leading anywhere, and that was okay.

“–some.”

Jumping, Eddie said a prayer that was not righteous, and thanked the stars he was not trimming closer to his eyes when his daughter scared him. “Jesus Christ, kid,” he exhaled.

“Handsome,” she said again.

Taken aback, he let the flattery sink in. Besides last week at the movies, he didn’t get compliments often, or at all, and to receive one now while his thoughts circled back to that familiar sting of ugliness with the way other parents looked at him tonight, Adrie’s kindness matured his grin into a real smile.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked in a mild, quick laugh. “That’s sweet.” He leaned over the sink and worked on his bangs again, snipping up into the strands between his fingers.

“Miss–ouse does.”

“What–?” Her words were incoherent from her fingers stuffed in her mouth. “Did you say..?” He dropped the comb and scissors, and spun around, eyes set on her. Adrie released a high-pitched shriek and ran from the doorway. “Wait! Adrie! She said that? She said that about me?” He chased her into the living room, dodging back and forth around the coffee table. Duping left, right. Catching her as she made a quick escape to her bedroom. “Tell me what you said? Did Miss Mouse say that about me? Did she call me handsome?”

Try as he might, threatening to tickle her until she repeated herself, Adrienne refused to tell him the secret you whispered in her ear.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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sonamytrash · 2 months

Text

Always the embodiment of stoicism, Levi's eyes darted briefly to the others seated around the table, "Alright, brats," he began, "I trust you've all had a chance to prepare for the mission. Let's get started."

His office was not a place one would expect to find the sort of disarray it was currently in. The immaculate desk, with its precisely aligned pens and paperweights, was now a mess of scattered documents and various items littered across the floor. Even the stoic captain himself had a hint of exhaustion in his eyes.

As Levi droned on about their objective and the potential risks involved, another figure emerged from the door in the corner of the office, which led to the captains private quarters. Completely unaware of the meeting taking place.

The group couldn't help but glance back at you as you stepped into the room, Levi's grey t-shirt, barely clinging to your curves, leaving little to the imagination. Your hair was tousled from sleep, and there was a dreamy expression across face as you yawned and stretched, oblivious to the fact that there was a meeting taking place just a few feet away. Your entrance, combined with the current disarray of the office, revealed just enough to hint at what had transpired the night before.

The silence in the room was deafening as everyone continued to watch you, their minds racing with the same questions and speculations. Reiner cleared his throat, trying to focus on meeting at hand, but his gaze kept drifting back to you. Even Ymir seemed to be taken aback by the sight of you.

Levi, for his part, kept his composure admirably. He remained seated, his posture impeccable, his face impassive. His eyes flicked briefly to you before returning to his notes. This was normal for him. It was a masterclass in nonchalance for everyone else.

You, oblivious to the attention you were receiving, rubbed your dreary eyes and blushed lightly when you became aware of the roomful of people watching you, and quickly ducked back behind the door with a playful smirk on your face. "Oh... um, sorry," you mumbled. "I didn't realise the time." You say, looking at the clock.

Levi glanced at the others in the room, the various reactions from the group quite amusing. The smallest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before turning his attention to you, his expression softer. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I let you sleep in." There was a hint of a blush in his cheeks as he said it, but his voice was steady.

You looked up at him as your expression softened. "Thanks, Ackerman. You didn't have to do that." You say playfully. "Sorry for the intrusion guys, let me know when you're done." You say as you creep back behind the door and close it gently. The awkward atmosphere that fell over the room was almost palpable, as each of them struggled to process the unexpected intimacy that had been revealed between their fearless leader and his lover.

"Well, I suppose that answers some questions," Levi states calmy, taking a sip of his tea. Savouring the taste, he waited for a few more moments,

"Where were we?" Levi finally said, trying to regain their attention.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x y/n #captain levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader

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dreamii-krybaby · 2 months

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Hi, please let’s take appreciation for the smallest details that Murder Drones have

I love how despite having the same idea of somewhat decorating their lockers, they still show a bit of their different personalities

Nori has color in it, a lot of emotion too, with the exclamation marks and the little angry face, clearly not wanting people to mind in her business with her “STAY OUT!” message. The colors and the fact she has hearts and a dolphin (?) shows she does like cutesy stuff but enjoys edgy things thanks to the skull (?) drawing. Her hand writing is in bold and in all caps but is a rather round lettering

She is giving a bit of “that one girls who did the most decorated and messy-in-a-pretty-way school notes” vibes

Yeva on the other hand surprisingly does show a bit personality but not as much as Nori, its all in black, no color. Her lettering is much more sharper and even fancier in a way, and the words aren’t 100% in bold, her name isn’t in all caps, except for her “DO NOT DISTURB!!” Message. Which tbh is so silly she opted to words things like that. Has slightly poorly drawn stars and flowers doodles, a cutesy vibe in comparison to her sharp lettering.

I originally thought that her “do not disturb!!” message was misspelled, to show that she struggles writing in english, but then I realized it was written properly, its just the words where faded out and worded in a peculiar way. She makes it sounds that she uses the locker to sleep in it and she doesn’t want ppl to disturb her (if these are indeed lockers and not rooms). Or maybe she does struggle a lil when wording in English, who knows?

Its also interesting how the dolphin drawing, the stars and flower doodles are all from the outside world, from nature. Yeva and Nori probably know and have seen these things somewhere but I doubt they saw it in person or saw it daily while they lived on the labs/camps, its kinda cute and sad

And again is a bit sweet that despite their awful and dire conditions they still tried to have fun in some way.

But it’s so tragic at the same time bc they where probably women with interesting and cool personalities with aspirations but where forced in a horrible situation and livehood.

And then, whatever kinds of horrors it definitely changed them permanently as people, and not in a good way.

#murder drones

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siempre-bucky · 2 years

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take the day

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: After his training flight gets canceled, Cyclone gives Jake the rest of the day off, allowing him to play hooky with his son. Or Jake Seresin has bad parents and will do anything for his kid's happiness.

wc: 2k

A/n: I saw this tiktok once and it was of a boy asking his mom if she was having a good day with him and ahhhhh I knew I needed to write a dad!Jake fic.

Jake had been waiting for this day all month, a beautiful shiny new plane was ready to be tested. He set many reminders on his phone, the test’s title written in red ink on every calendar. It was a mistake on Cyclone’s part for the boost Hangman’s ego had when he got the phone call. He smiled at the sun peeking in through the blinds, this was going to be his best ride all year. The blond gathered the thick manual off his desk and started to make his way to the door, only to be stopped by his superior. “The test’s been canceled for today,” Cyclone told him evenly.

It felt like a punch to the gut; hopes and dreams were crushed in a little temporary office. Jake’s face only slightly fell, his nose twitched and his lips dipped into the smallest of frowns. “Understood, sir,” he responded formally.

“Take the rest of the day. You deserve it, Hangman.”

The door shut with a soft click of the lock and Jake slumped back in his chair in unison. Taking the rest of the day off seemed like such a foreign concept, did Cyclone of all people smile as he said it? He furrowed his eyebrows and let his eyes fall to the framed pictures on the old oak desk. He could call up Javy, grab a drink after the other man finished—his eyes continued to scan—he could find you and haul you into the supply closet like all the times before. He passed the wedding photo and let a smile grow on his lips as he looked at the photo of his son on his best friend's shoulders.

“You’re sulking,” you giggled as you opened the door, closing the blinds before making your way to him. “It’s a good look.”

Jake rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat, his arms finding their way to the sides of your waist, pulling you into his lap. You touched the medals on his khakis and smiled fondly at his wings. "He wants me to go home," he said, still astonished.

An amused snort came from you, your lips tugging upward into a smile "Whatever will you do?" You sighed dramatically, emphasizing your teasing with a playful roll of your eyes.

Jake smirked and flashed his eyes towards the door before kissing the side of your neck. "We could find a closet," he hummed, "just like old times."

"No way! Not with Cyclone and Warlock running around."

Fine, he thought, pressing his back against the chair. "Well, I was thinking…" Jake suddenly paused, hesitation creeping up the back of his neck.

Sick? The boy's not sick, he can stay at school. Jake was twelve and had appendicitis.

Back in my day, we powered through. Are you cryin'? Pathetic, Jacob. Get out of my damn truck and get to class. Jake was fifteen and just lost his beloved grandmother.

"...nevermind, darlin', I'll just go home. Sleep a bit."

You carefully stroked his well put together hair, being mindful of the gel that kept it together. "Jake," you scolded, "talk."

He swallowed the lump of displeasure and forced his green eyes to look at your reassuring face. "I was thinking about takin' Luke out of school early. Do some errands, spend some time together before you get off."

There was a small pause that Jake took note of immediately. He watched your face for every slim movement, any indication that it was a terrible idea. Then you smiled.

"Oh, Jake," you chuckled, "he'd love that, baby."

Jake's nerves subsided and the unknowing tight grip he had on your waist softened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

—

Luke's eyelids drooped, green eyes barely focused on the board in front of the class. His science teacher droned on—he wouldn't be able to tell you anything he learned from that class. His head started to slowly slip off the hand that was holding him up.

"Luke Seresin.” The door opened, and a frail older woman scanned the seventh-grade science class. The boy in question looked up, shyly raising his hand. The woman sighed, “Pack your things,” she instructed, “you’re leaving early.”

Suddenly, he was much more awake. He slid off his chair and grabbed his books, ignoring the various faces of his classmates. Placing his backpack around his shoulders he hurried over to his teacher to get his homework before following the woman.

The gears of his mind started to turn. He rarely got to leave early, most of the time it was you coming to pick him up for a doctor's appointment. Luke grimaced at the thought of the upcoming dentist appointment. Was that today? He hoped it was his Uncle Javy. Luke loved when his uncle came to pick him up and play hooky when he was on leave.

Luke took a deep breath as he walked up to the large wood doors separating him from the front office. His jaw was slightly clenched, praying that it wasn’t the dreaded cleaning. The door clicked as the middle schooler pressed the bar, opening it.

His eyes looked upward to the figure standing at the front desk, politely making small talk with the receptionists. His eyes widened as the frame and accented voice clicked in his mind, “Dad!” Luke gasped. The familiar tall muscular frame with tanned skin and a sweet smile turned to him.

Jake chuckled at his excitement and outstretched his arms for him, playfully grunting as his son ran into his stomach. “Hey,” he laughed, cradling the back of his head.

"What are you doing here?"

Jake let his happy face falter, "Your ma said you have a dentist appointment," he lied.

Luke's face fell instantly, the sound of a drill echoing in the back of his mind and making his teeth hurt. He grumbled and threw his head back but allowed Jake to usher him outside the school. "Do I have to go?" He whined.

"There's no appointment, son. Don't need those ladies giving me funny looks," Jake explained, checking behind him to make sure no one could still hear him.

"Then wh-"

"Thought we could go to the hardware store and then the auto part store," Jake hummed, tilting his head side to side.

Excitement bubbled in Luke's stomach, a bright smile spreading on his face. "Then burgers after—from the diner on the beach?" He asked with a light tilt in his tone.

Can we get lunch on the way home, dad?

We have lunch at home. Money doesn't grow on trees, Jacob. How dare you ask me that. Jake knew his family was loaded, there was even an expensive bottle of scotch in the backseat.

Jake lovingly stroked his son's hair, forcing the memories away, and made sure he would forge new ones in his son. He playfully scoffed and kept moving him along towards the truck, “Well I guess we have to,” he said happily.

—

Jake looked through the streaks in the glass, silently judging the two men playing football in the sands technique. He shook his head and took another bite, witnessing an easy throw being missed. It wasn’t even three o’clock yet and he was exhausted from the boy with enough energy to power the city. He smiled fondly at how Luke would walk up and down every aisle of the part store and ask questions, even sharing the bits of knowledge he picked up about his dad's truck. The toothy grin and bright eyes made the exhaustion all worth it.

Luke peered up at his dad as he ate his burger. "Dad," he started in between bites. He swallowed and spoke again, a sliver of caution in his tone, "Are you having a good day with me so far?"

A jolt went through the aviator's heart, and then another when he caught the sight of Luke's green eyes looking at him with all the hope in the world.

Validation.

A part of him hated how much this day was turning out to be a bitter trip down memory lane. Jake gave up asking his dad about things when he was fourteen, the grumpy one-worded answers, tightened grip on the steering wheels and deep frowns were enough. Disappointment chipped away at Jake until he was able to build armor strong enough to deflect the demeanor. He wouldn't let that be Luke, he wouldn't let his eyes grow dim and shoulders slump like his own.

Jake leaned forward and smiled, "I'm having the best day with you, son."

The boy shifted happily in the red faux leather seat, his smile growing miles wider. "Cool," he laughed lightly before starting on his small pile of thin fries.

They ate in silence until Luke saw the jukebox sitting in the corner and begged his dad for a couple of quarters. The boy gleefully ran to the large red box with a clenched fist full of coins and scanned through the old songs, his tongue poking out in concentration. A smile broke out onto his face as he finally found the song he was looking for and pressed the cream colored numbers.

"Slow ride?" Jake whispered to himself, looking around at the speakers attached to the wall.

"I know you liked this song," Luke reminded him cheerfully as he returned to the booth.

"Your mom hates it," Jake chuckled in return.

"But why? You play it all the time."

"I had our DJ switch our first dance song halfway through at our wedding," he reminisced, "she never fails to remind me."

Luke loved hearing stories about you and Jake before you had him. They weren't the rehearsed stories his pops and grandma told to keep their image in pristine condition. Jake told him everything that was age-appropriate, you two were mostly an open book with him.

"Kinda like how she tells everyone she's the better pilot."

Jake's eyes narrowed and his lips became pressed in a tight line. "Now that's what we call a lie, son. No one is better than your old man."

Luke smiled and gulped down the last of his meal, "I believe you—just don't tell mom."

"Scouts honor," Jake mock saluted and laughed. "Why don't we head down the beach?"

Luke gasped and hurried out of the booth, "Can I play in the water? I have my gym clothes in my backpack!"

The blond nodded, and followed him out of the booth calmly, throwing a few bills on the table. Luke grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door, even refusing to let go as they walked to the truck.

—

The sun had just begun to go down when Luke finally emerged from the water and Jake put on his sunglasses to block the sun’s glare. “You still not tired?” Jake questioned as he balled up a towel and threw it at the kid's face. Luke yelped and ripped it off and began to wipe the water off his face.

He dropped to his knees and continued his work on the sand castle he abandoned. “Nope!” he laughed, reaching for his plastic bucket. Jake slumped further in his beach chair, allowing his eyes to slowly close, listening to Luke’s commentary and the smell of the ocean lull him to sleep.

Jake figured only five minutes had passed when the roar of planes woke him up. It was nice while it lasted, maybe Cyclone was right… he needed to take the day. He opened his left eye and watched Luke look up to the sky, looking up at the Navy planes in the air. When he was younger he’d wave at them, asking if the pilot was you or his dad, but now as he grows older he just stops and looks up at them fondly.

“Do you think mom’s having a good day?” He asked, his gaze focused on the plane zooming above the clouds

“Why don’t you ask her yourself!” A new voice entered the space that made both the Seresin men perk up. Luke was the first one to jump up from off the ground, racing right into your embrace. “You have salt all over you,” you giggled, bending over to kiss his forehead.

“Dad let me play in the water! Oh, oh and we got food at the diner,” Luke started to ramble until he saw the other person step onto the sand. “Uncle Javy!” You were finally able to breathe as your son let go and ran up to his favorite person.

Jake walked over and wrapped you up in his arms, letting you nuzzle into his strong chest. “Good day?” you asked, humming in contentment.

You felt Jake put his chin on the top of your head, nodding. “The best,” he answered, watching Javy hoist his son over his shoulders and walk him to the water and throw him into the wave. “Remind me to thank Cyclone.”

“Look how happy he is,” you sighed happily, Luke’s infectious laugh making its way to your ears. Jake held you a little tighter. “You make him happy.”

Jake wanted to scoff and tell you that you didn’t have to lie, that he was a subpar father, and that Luke would run as soon as he turned eighteen as he did. He didn’t remember smiling like that, having a family love a kid as much as they all did the boy with matching green eyes being thrown into the ocean. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x fem!reader #dad!jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin imagine #top gun #top gun maverick

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stubz · 24 days

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Drill Day

'Attention participants, the drill will be starting in 1 minute. Take this time to prepare yourselves and to remember that everything that will happen is a simulation. Nothing can or will legitimately hurt you. Should you wish to stop the simulation tap the centerpiece of your vest and you will escorted off, should you be unable to do so simply say 'moon' and you will escorted off.'

"Okay the sound system is good, the holograms and drones are a go, and our actors are ready."

"I still don't know why we need actors when we have perfectly good holograms and drones." Glip didn't want to admit but she was a little hurt that Calis and the Captain didn't trust her work.

"We've been over this. As good as your holograms are they aren't physical which can lower the realism and while your drones are physical they can can be too predictable which is something we don't want. Hence the actors."

"Doubt they'll even be convincing." she grumbled.

To Glip's annoyance and Quip's entertainment the actor's where in fact convincing.

"What are you doing you idiot?! Your in a supply closet with tons of stuff around to use and you use a towel?? You deserve to be captured by enemy forces."

The poor Vrool get's tackled to the ground by an actor who roars in their face, fake fangs and mandibles making them ink themselves.

"Aw buddy, aw there we go! Good sportsmanship actor!" the actor uses the towel to clean the Vrool best they can before finding them a new uniform to change into them a before sending them to the 'jail' set up.

"Shlip who did they hire for this?" honestly this was some of the best simulation acting she's seen in a while.

"Some random ship members who had too much time and was down for a free dinner on Cap."

"Huh, any apexes?"

"Oh yeah, like two thirds of them. Those big ones dressed like a Mors Crawlers? That's a tighalax and a rextalian."

"Great asteroids no wonder those orcs were shaking."

"Yep," he said popping the p. "almost as terrifying as the real thing."

"Wait wait wait, hold the shlipping communicator, we got younglings doing this?"

"Oh quiznack. . .well it's probably gonna be toned down right, right?" he asked looking at his co-worker.

"Yeah, yeah it should be. Look. Like half the actors are leaving...leaving only the scariest ones left." they looked at each other concerned.

"CAAAPPPTAAAIN??"

"What!? Damnit Quip and Glip don't yell into the comms!"

"Are we actually sending younglings into this??"

"Isn't this like youngling endangerment?"

"The kids have been briefed about this and their parents signed off on this. Perfectly legal and safe. I also brought in some experts on this."

"Experts on scaring children?" who the shlip does that??

"Just do your jobs."

...

"OH MY GODS..HOW THE ACTUAL SHLIP?!"

"how the deq are these kids fine with this..."

Said younglings are being chased by actors, dressed as Mors Crawlers and Domitors, the actors giving them very little breathing room.

One of them swipe at the younglings with their prosthetic claws, catching on the little ones clothes. They yank back and the child is sent sprawling towards the jaws of the Domitor, the child's vest lights up red. They're out.

Some more children get caught by claws, tails, and wings. Each one of them are out.

The remaining few duck into an open vent too small for the predators to follow. They claw and roar at the entrance.

"HA! Can't get them now, score one nothing for the younglings!"

"Nope, look at screen 3."

While the actors at the entrance roared and thrashed a few of them ran through the halls until reaching the other side of the vent. Just as the children were coming out.

They could run but to where? Back into the vent? Forward into their pursuers?

Well they tried both.

The largest and strongest charged forward while the smallest ran back.

While the larger and stronger ones were from species known for their power and abilities, they were still younglings going against adults. After some struggling their vests turned red.

Only a handful of younglings reached the vent without getting caught. The ones inside were safe...for now.

....

'Only 5 minutes before the simulation is over. 5 minutes.'

"Well, looks the kids win this one."

"Good for them. They earned it."

"Yeah-hold up...what are they doing?"

The actors were...breaking the wall. They had grabbed chairs and any heavy objects they could and were using them to break down the wall.

"IS THIS ALLOWED?!"

"THERE'S NO WAY IT IS....gods wrath it is...JUST LET THE KIDS HAVE THIS!!"

When a foot of the vent was now revealed they grabbed it and started to pull. The other side, now aware of what was happening, started to push and increase their efforts in grabbing the younglings.

"They're pulling it...oh my gods they're pulling it out of the actual wall!"

"IT'S 15 FEET LONG THOUGH!!"

"HOW MUCH TIME IS LEFT?!"

"2 MINUTES."

Inch by inch the predators pulled out sections of the vent. Almost a third of the way done. The hole left behind now big enough to send over their smallest predator on the other side.

"BODY CAM BODY CAM"

"I'M DOING IT I'M DOING IT"

The beast crawled as fast as it could through the tunnel. The younglings yell and kick at its claws.

A child screams while being dragged out of the body cams view.

"They're dead."

"Yep, you owe me five tix."

"No, I betted on the other rextali-"

"MOON!"

Quip and Glip quieted. Then went into a flurry finding the right camera, searching for the child who said the safe word.

They found the child; Zyz, age 6 years old, species rextalian, being comforted by an actor. Face pressed into the adults fake fur while stroking the child's spine with their palms. Keeping their face and claws out of Zyz's view.

All the other actors around them softly put down the vent pieces and children already caught.

They then step back and then kneel or crouch. Claws are up or by their sides.

The children go to one another, checking up on each other, a few check on Zyz.

One of the actors slowly approaches Zyz on their knees. Hand out holding a tissue.

A tiny hand takes it. Along with the tissue.

And just like that all the other adults scoop up the children. Some are cradled into their chests, needing comfort and to not have them see their masks. Others are put onto their shoulders and backs, not as riled up or in a more playful mood. Some are tossed and dangled, to put them at ease despite the adrenaline coursing through their small bodies.

Soon the sniffles and hiccups are replaced by laughter and cheers.

The claws are replaced by warm sweaty hands.

Fangs and mandibles are replaced by sweaty smiling faces.

Wings and extra appendages are replaced by children hugging the tired actors.

"...they were HUMANS?!?"

"Hey it's Max! ...Ohhh that's whose a professional in scaring kids. That makes sense now."

#shlip is a space curse word #this is influenced by me learning that Maleficent's daughter was the one to play young Aurora #also by the video of that little girl who loved the monster costume #sometimes i play as a monster when with kids and they love it but sometimes it gets to be too much #so i either tone it down by kneeling and being quiet or by giving them space/a break #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #the adventures of kim and max running a space child care centre #not gonna lie I also get pretty competitive when chasing them and trying to catch them to the point where I will almost tackle them #or use their friends as bait to lure in the faster ones

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delphi-shield · 7 months

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communion // claire redfield

Claire x afab!Reader Smut wc: 2065 mdni - 18+

this is literally my worst nightmare i dont ever want to have a relationship like this again. unless......

the pillow princess kinda jumped out of me and onto the page, sorry. or you're welcome. idk. up to you.

afab reader, tit sucking, oral (reader receiving), religious imagery (my bad), really meandering prose, don't get into a relationship like this i'm begging you, not proofread

It’s over. You’re not sure it ever really began, but watching Claire sling her backpack over her shoulder, motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm, you know it’s over. It’s over, and she’s back at your place the following weekend.

It’s over.

You’re not sure it ever really began, but watching Claire sling her backpack over her shoulder, motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm, you know it’s over. She’s not mad. It’s nothing that you did. She just can’t continue on like this, that’s all. No hard feelings. Water under the bridge. You’re still friends. Nothing has to change.

It’s over, and she’s back at your place the following weekend. Crashed out next to you on your couch, heels kicked up on your coffee table, she looks like she never left.

You wish things would change. You wish this wasn’t so tense, wish the silence didn’t feel like it was crushing you. Every movement is magnified, every breath, every uncomfortable shift. You’re hyper aware of the smallest details. Claire seems infuriatingly unbothered. Her foot bobs carelessly. She pulls her hair from her ponytail with no concern for how it spills over her shoulder, how the scent of her shampoo drifts over to you. (Coconut. Not her usual scent. You wonder if she’s just mixing things up or if she’s showered at someone else’s place, and the jealousy of this imagined transgression carves out a cavern in your chest.)

If there’s any part of her that feels the tension the way that you do, she doesn’t show it. The TV drones on in the background, a cooking competition show from the mid-2000’s. Claire scrolls through her phone, one arm propped up behind the couch - behind you. She doesn’t like this show. You know she doesn’t like this show. She made it a point to tell you how much she hated it every time it was on, yet she sits next to you silently. This is less affection and more apology.

Her hand settles against your ankle to get your attention, showing you a text from someone at work and complaining half-heartedly about their incompetence. She doesn't move her hand away. This is how it always starts with Claire. Innocently enough that it doesn’t draw attention, not until her hands are helping you out of your clothes and laying you back against the closest surface.

You should pull your leg back. She wouldn't push you. You know she wouldn't. She would accept your silent refusal without a fuss, any awkwardness wiped away without so much as a word. She’s good like that - good at making you comfortable in the face of confrontation. Her hand strokes along your calf, thumb rubbing circles into your tense muscles. You sigh, somewhere between a noise of enjoyment and exasperation at how readily you’re giving in to her again. Her hand rests against your knee only a moment before sliding up to your thigh.

“Claire,” you say, voice a warning.

“What?” She feigns innocence, setting her phone aside. Her fingers curl, knuckles pressing circles against your skin.

You give her a look - the kind a mother spares a child who’s been misbehaving - but otherwise say nothing. Your attention turns back to the TV, trying to focus on the show. If you fill your head with the dramatics of reality TV, the dramatics of your life will pale in comparison, surely.

From the corner of your eye, you see Claire’s smile thin to something mischievous. She scoots closer to you, her leg pressing against yours. Her arm slips down from the back of the couch, wrapping around your shoulders and curling you closer to her, close enough for her to mouth at your neck, to nip at your earlobe and send a shower of sparks down your spine.

Your body ignites at her touch, the yearning you had prayed to fade surfacing so quickly that it makes you ache. Any pretenses of disinterest fall away so quickly it’s shameful. You arch into her, turning your head to capture her lips with yours. She stops, pulling back from you, so close and so far.

"No, no, keep watching," Claire says, the pattern of her breathing not even disturbed. She turns your head back to the TV with two fingers against your jaw. Her hand glides down your neck, glancing over your collarbone, pausing its pilgrimage only to cup your breast. She holds you there, feels the weight of you in her palm, and then her body’s slipping between your legs, knocking them wide with her knee. Her mouth latches onto your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your pulse.

It’s going to hurt, you think. Her teeth catch at your collar bone, the strap of your tank top shuffled down your shoulder. She sucks her devotion into your skin, the mark mottled and darkening even before she runs her teeth along it to ensure it takes. She squeezes your breast firmly, thumbs brushing over your nipple, aching and peaked under your clothes.

She pulls back from your skin, wedging her nails between her teeth and prying her press-ons off. You groan, swat at her limply, murmuring ‘gross’. She tosses them aside, and a moment’s irritation passes through you. You’ll have to find those later.

But for now? She has you fucking pavlov’d. Your knees fall apart for her, skin prickling as the back of her fingers trail against your inner thigh. Her fingers drag against your clothed cunt, not nearly enough pressure to even begin to unwind the coiling knot in your stomach.

She hums, her hand laying flat against your stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. She waits for any sign of protest. When you offer none, she hooks a finger under the elastic, tugging gently.

"This okay?" She asks.

You should say no. You should tell her that you’re going to bed, that she can have the couch, that you can’t keep doing this.

The thought crosses your mind as you’re lifting your hips to help her. Your hand cups her jaw, tugs her up to your face. You kiss her to satisfy a bone-deep need for her, your mouth falling open for her tongue to claim - and she does so eagerly.

She pulls away from you to work her way down your body, kissing a wet trail down your skin and stopping to free you from your shirt. Bared to her, she sits back on her thighs to admire you, her eyes half-lidded and lips swollen red. Her gaze flutters between your tits and your cunt, brows pinching together. This is the toughest decision she’s had to make all night.

Her hands grasp your hips, tugging you down the couch. There's a power in her grip that you don't often see, and it makes your stomach squirm. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, stifling a giggle. The corner of her lips lift into a smile. She leans over you, taking a nipple into her mouth. For a moment you think she’s made her choice. You arch into her mouth, whine sharpening into something high and needy when her fingers pinch your neglected nipple.

But she pulls away from your with a wet, sloppy noise. She presses your tits together for a moment to kiss both of them, and then she’s making her way back down your body. Her hands squeeze you until she rests between your thighs.

Her arms slip under your knees, hands coming around to brace the top of your pillowy thighs. She pauses, a dreamy sigh floating from her lips. She urges your hips up again to tuck one of the couch pillows underneath you, and then she’s settled, encouraging your legs to rest over her shoulders and lock you there once you oblige. Claire's cheek pillows against your thigh. This has always been where she looks most at peace.

Claire doesn’t eat pussy. She worships it.

Any vestiges of shame disappear the moment her head dips between your legs. Her tongue laves a worshipful path against your heat, bottom to top, savoring the journey and moaning her adoration into your skin.

If you could see her, see the way she admires your cunt with such reverence, you might push her away. She kneels at your altar and laps at the communion your body offers her so willingly. There's forgiveness in the act, collecting absolution on her tongue. Her fingers dimple the flesh of your thighs and tug you closer, and for a moment it feels like she needs you just as much as you need her.

The sounds coming from her are sinful. She suckles your clit so eagerly that you have to fist a hand in her hair and tug her back, the sensation too much, too quick. She pulls back, kissing your folds gently in apology. Her tongue shifts to swipe flat and broad over your folds. Her nose nudges against your pudgy clit, just enough sensation for you to lay back, boneless, moans falling from your lips.

She takes her time with you, savoring every moment she spends with her lips around you. There’s no reservation in the way she slurps and sucks at you, no shame in how she drinks down everything that you give her and returns it back to you in a moan, a hum against your skin that leaves you buzzing. If she could taste your moans, if she could kiss you quiet at the same time, you could die happy.

Her tongue churns against your clit, steady and predictable. She makes no effort to pin your hips down. Her shoulders roll with every buck and twitch, holding you to her, relishing the way that you writhe. Her finger presses into you, and you swear to god you hear her laugh against you. Another finger joins the first, the resistance negligible. You can’t tell which noises are from Claire and which are from the way your body greedily sucks her fingers in.

She knows your body well, but she rushes nothing. Her fingers curl into that spot inside you that makes you wail. Your hand fists in her hair, trying to hold her mouth in place, your voice high and desperate when you plead, “there, right there, please, Claire.”

Your thighs clamp around her head, hips rutting against her face. Her fingers grind against that perfect, spongy spot inside you and fuck, you’re gone, back arching, heel digging into her shoulder blade. Your toes curl, the pleasure erupting and spreading hot through your veins. Her tongue curls against your clit, lips shifting into a smile against you that you can picture with such perfect clarity even as your vision blurs. She coaxes moan after broken moan from you, not satisfied until your voice turns to a whimper, until your hands push feebly at her shoulders.

She pulls away from you with a last lurid lick. A shudder shakes your body, and she’s quick to soothe it, pulling you into her arms.

Claire slides up your body, her hands skimming reverently against your sides. Her weight presses you into the couch, her cheek resting against your stomach. In the gleam of the TV, her mouth shines with spit and you.

"Who got kicked off?" she asks casually, her breathing already evened out again.

"I dunno. Think I blacked out for a little."

Claire laughs, her hands squeezing your waist. She plants a kiss on your stomach and nuzzles closer. “That good, huh?”

You roll your eyes - not that she can see - and tug her hair just hard enough to be playful. Not gonna dignify that with a response, you think.

The moment is comfortable. It’s warm, familiar, even.

It’s over, you remind yourself. Her backpack is still by the door, ready to be picked up on her way out. You try to sit up and she presses you back down, whining that you’re comfortable, that you’re warm, and soft, a perfect pillow, please, baby, just hang out for a little. She plants a gentle kiss to your sternum and whispers promises of cleaning you up in a moment.

It’s a lie, you know that. You’ll both fall asleep here. You can only hope that you’ll wake with her still in your arms.

Against your better judgement, you reach up and pull the blanket down from the back of the couch. You fold it back to cover the both of you. Your hand pushes her hair from her face. You don't mean to comb your fingers through her hair. You don't mean to untangle her locks, to fix the mess that you had made of her. You can't help yourself.

#claire redfield x reader #claire redfield smut #resident evil imagine #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #claire redfield #claire redfield my number is xxx-xxxx

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mixedupmelody · 1 year

Text

daydreaming in class.

notes: this sweet sweet boy gets humiliated every day lmao ☹️

contains: butters stotch x gender neutral reader

characters: butters stotch, mr. garrison, various students (briefly mentioned)

warnings: aged up characters, mild public humiliation, suggestive theming near the end

. ☁️ .

oh, poor Butters. poor sweet, sweet Butters. he sits in his class, head resting in his hands as Mr. Garrison drones on about his personal life. he is not listening to a WORD of it

each time he drifts off into la la land he thinks up a new scenario

sometimes he imagines himself getting up from his seat to help you with your homework. other times he's over at your house, playing video games with you, when he gathers up the courage to give you a little peck on the cheek

he'll fidget with his hands, or tap his foot excitedly when daydream-you accepts his confession

it's very obvious that he's daydreaming. you can see him reacting to everything that happens

his lips pucker slightly when he imagines kissing you, and his eyes flutter closed

he finds this so embarrassing, but sometimes he'll hold his own hand while he imagines holding yours

“ Oh, Butters. ” He imagines you say to him, as your hands wrap around his waist, peppering kisses all over his face. “ I love you so much. ”

Butters can feel his face heat up as Mr. Garrison discusses some quiz they have coming up. He tries to pay more attention, his parents would ground him if he failed, but the idea of him staying lost in thought with you seemed much more enticing.

Mr. Garrison's voice gets louder, followed by a loud laugh from the guys next to him. “ Butters Stotch! ” Mr. Garrison shouts out finally, snapping Butters back to reality just when he's getting to the good part. “ Since you know so much to where you can sit around and ignore everything I say, why don't you just come up here and do my job for me? ”

Everyone stares at Butters. Some laugh, others watch on, silently judging. Butters sinks into his seat, hoping this wouldn't end with a call home to his parents.

nsfw headcanons

sometimes, entirely on accident, his innocent daydreams take a turn

he silently cursed himself for thinking about how nice it would be to run his hands over your thighs, and to press himself against you while you make out, or to watch you while you got undressed

god, he his face was bright red.

as he gets lost in thought, he might occasionally let out the smallest whimper before trying to clear his throat

his finger traces patters over his desk, as he imagines touching you

this always makes him end up with a hard-on during class. ☹️ if he can't ask to run to the restroom to relieve himself, he just has to sit through the lecture and struggle through it

somestimes he'll be called on in class, making him quickly snap out of his fantasies

he gets embarassed when the guys sitting next to him look at him as if to ask what was wrong with him

if they ever did ask, he's quick to brush it off as nothing. but in the back on his head, he can't rid the mental image of you underneath him

#butters stotch x reader #butters stotch x y/n #butters x reader #south park x reader headcanons #south park x reader #south park x you #south park x y/n

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meownotgood · 3 months

Text

under the influence / hayakawa aki

When Aki gets dragged to the most popular strip club in Tokyo in hopes it'll help him "de-stress", against all odds, you help him do just that. In return, he finally cures your itch for something more.

CHAPTER THREE — EPILOGUE

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 5.4k

tags (for this chapter): 18+, love confessions, just the soft end to you and aki's story <3

masterlist.

read on ao3

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

Rain taps against the roof and the windows of Aki's car, decorating the glass in running beads of water, filling your ears with a low, rhythmic drone. The night sky is dark, the blurred lights of the city shimmer in puddles and the droplets on the windshield before the wipers push them away. Silence, and then the hum of the wipers. The lull of the car engine, and the continuous plop of raindrops. Silence, hum.

It's starting to kill you, really. You have your head propped up on your hand, your elbow resting on the edge of the window. You drum your fingers against your cheek, rolling your shoulders back awkwardly. You're staring at the streetlamps as they pass, because the thought of looking at Aki has you far too flustered right now.

He hasn't spoken much since he picked you up, just a few words as you were heading out the door, and then a couple more as he was starting the car. You complimented his outfit — a nice blue dress shirt with the first few buttons undone. He'd changed out of his work uniform and into something nicer, which you found pretty cute. He offered you his jacket from the backseat, to keep you warm while the car was heating up. You took it graciously, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders and burying your nose in the smooth fabric, feeling yourself enveloped in his crisp, familiar scent. And then, silence.

You want to say something to break the tension. From the few secret glances you've taken at him, Aki doesn't seem awkward; he might just be thinking. Or perhaps he wants to speak, the problem is he can't come up with anything to say. You're in that same boat, unfortunately.

You could tell him how you're feeling, that'd be a start. You're feeling so many things. You're nervous. Eager. Impatient. Once you're at your apartment, you can settle your nerves with some of your favorite wine, but you're out of luck until then.

He's probably nervous, too. It might be part of the reason why he's been so quiet. You've missed him, but he already knows that much. You want to ask him something just to hear his voice again. You want to know more of what work's been like, because it makes you feel special knowing those things he isn't supposed to be telling you. You want him to talk to you about the stupid pleasantries neither of you had any time for before. Do you like this kind of weather? What do you want to eat tonight? Well, you've got all the time in the world now, you just aren't sure what you should do with it.

Aki's car smells fancy and clean. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume it was brand new. Everything inside is totally spotless. When you close your eyes, focusing on the sound of the rain, you swear the downpour seems to be growing lighter. It echoes in the muffled sound of the car sloshing through water, in the faint drizzle hitting the roof.

Your heart feels heavy, in a warm, but safe way, held in the hands of the rain and in Aki's comforting presence. Even with the silence, you still feel at home.

You can't help but wonder what he's thinking about, your mind keeps coming back to it. Turning, cracking your eyes open the slightest amount, you steal the smallest glance of him out of the corner of your eye. Aki has his gaze focused on the road. His fingers tap against the steering wheel, much in the same anxious way you were tapping yours. He has an expression you can't read, but that's normal of him.

Try as you might, you've got no idea what's going through that complicated head of his.

So, you give up. You bring your gaze back towards the window. You make do with the silence, leaning your forehead gently on the glass. The car slows to a stop as the streetlight ahead flickers to red. Raindrops tap the windshield, and the wipers do their job. Silence, hum.

"I think I love you."

Oh. I think I love you. That's something you didn't see coming.

Okay, you really thought that maybe, just maybe, Aki was done with blurting out shit you couldn't have expected, and maybe you were done with not being able to handle when his words go soft — but clearly, you were definitely, totally wrong.

Your pulse is sent running wild, hammering in your chest, consuming every inch of you as a thick mess of thorns and roses in your throat. Warmth radiates through your veins, you're choked up. When you whip your head back towards Aki, he's got the same steady expression, his eyes are focused on the road ahead of him. He grabs the stick shift, pulling it into place without looking away.

The car begins moving again.

"You- Why-" You can't form coherent thoughts, nor coherent sentences. You shake your head, laughing a little; in disbelief or to ease the tension, you aren't sure, "Why are you telling me that right now?"

"It was getting too quiet," Aki replies, matter-of-fact. His voice is as smooth as ever. God, his heart is pounding too, though, "And I'm tired of holding it in. I thought you'd want to know."

Your foot taps nervously against the car's floor.

"Of course I'd want to know," You answer, glancing down at your hands in your lap. You've laced your fingers together, and you're fiddling with your thumbs, "I just… you think? You said you think you love me, what does that even mean?"

"No, I do," Aki corrects, his brows pinching, eyes narrowing. "I do love you. I'm certain. I've thought about it ever since then, ever since I met you."

Ever since then. It feels like that night was so long ago, even though you can remember the details as if they happened yesterday. Does Aki remember them, too?

Your voice lowers in volume considerably. "Is that really true?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner. Work has held me up so much," Aki explains, "But I knew I couldn't wait any longer, I had to come see you once I realized how I felt. That's why I showed up at the club tonight. My division was supposed to go a couple cities over for an extraction mission today but… I canceled. So I could come tell you."

"This is-" You swallow, your nerves feel like they're tingling, like your arms and your shoulders and your spine have nervousness dancing across them, hand in hand. You pull his jacket around you, balling up your fists in the fabric. The rich scent of his cologne surrounds you, stifles you. "This is what you were waiting to tell me, right? What you were going to say back at the club, before you stopped?"

"Yes. Was it not what you were expecting?"

You fiddle with his hair tie on your wrist, pulling it, and then letting go, making it snap against your skin. "I don't know. I guess it… It wasn't, no."

Aki exhales a slow, steady breath. He keeps both hands on the steering wheel to keep them from shaking, gripping so tightly his knuckles turn white.

"I mean, I want something with you Aki, I do," You're continuing, stumbling through your words, and he lets his grip loosen slightly. "It's just complicated. I've thought about it too, you know. And I want to make things work. But you're-"

"A devil hunter." He says, completing your sentence.

"Yeah. You are." You let go of a sigh. There's disappointment laced in your tone, a weightiness Aki can feel in his shoulders when he hears you speak, "You're busy doing important things, killing devils. Don't you have a goal, to kill the Gun? I know that's important to you, I wouldn't want to get in your way."

"You won't." Aki replies sternly. "And I'm not always going to be busy. I'll make time for you. Missions won't hold me up as much anymore once all of this calms down, don't worry." His hands flex, bruised knuckles tensing, "I'll be able to spend time with you every day, if that's what you want. The Gun Devil isn't-"

"You could die, Aki."

Your words cut through him like a knife, making him freeze. His grip tightens on the wheel, his breath momentarily gets caught in his lungs. Worriedly, he glances towards you for a half-second, and he sees you staring at your lap. Your hands are balled up, your eyes are teary. Your voice is weak, and a shaky exhale causes your shoulders to slump. You lean forward as you curl in on yourself.

"You could die, and then it wouldn't matter, I'd never see you again. Do you understand that?" Your jaw clenches, your fingernails dig into your own palm, "I don't want to lose you. I was really worried when you were gone for so long, Aki. I can't get attached to you if you're just going to… If anything happened to you, I wouldn't…"

Aki listens as you trail off. He grabs the stick shift again, pulling it, and he focuses on what's ahead of him.

He understands what you're feeling now, he knows it all too well. He knows what it's like to lose someone. Even just the anticipation of losing them, the thought that they might slip from your grasp one day is painful in itself. He's lost everything he ever cared for, over and over again, and he doesn't want that for you. He won't let you experience a feeling so lonesome.

The truth is, he's never placed much importance on his own well-being. He'd accomplish his goals, or he'd die trying, that was the only promise he allowed himself to make. But things are different now.

If it means breaking your heart, he doesn't care what he has to do, he won't be letting it shatter. He'll be safe, he'll keep you close. He won't make the same mistakes. In the end, even if things don't work out, if you'll give him one more chance to hold you, to understand you, to love you — whatever sacrifice he has to make, he will, and it'll be worth it. For you, he'd offer himself up to the altar.

Aki stays silent for a while, thinking. You sniffle, and he gnaws frustratingly on his bottom lip.

"I'll pull back more, then."

That gets you to finally look up at him. Aki watches in the corner of his vision as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. Speaking softly, gentleness in his tone, he continues, "I'll stop fighting, stop accepting missions, stop killing devils. I'll pull back however much you want me to. However much will keep the both of us safe. So don't cry, okay?" He exhales, his expression growing complicated, "And I want you to know I'm done. I'm not going after the Gun anymore."

This time, when you look at him again, your eyes are going wide. On your face, there's only pure, clear shock.

You shake your head, and you stammer, "You don't… You don't have to do that, just for me."

"I'm not. Believe me," Aki takes a quick, apologetic glance towards you. Then, he looks back at the road. "You're a big part of this, don't get me wrong. It wouldn't be fair to you if I told you I had feelings for you, and then went and threw my life away. That's what the expedition they're planning is, a suicide mission. Honestly, for me, this has been a long time coming."

Still staring up at him, your eyes scan his face. He looks somber; columns of light travel over him as the car passes streetlamp after streetlamp, the glowing lights of the city reflect in his eyes, his earrings. The bridge of his nose crinkles for a moment. He stretches his fingers until the joints pop, he takes a deep breath in.

"I'm tired, to tell you the truth." He says, his voice steady. His words are honest, comfortingly genuine. "I've been killing devils for years. Most of my colleagues didn't even last a few months. When they quit or they died, I kept going. I ignored anyone who tried to talk me out of it, I didn't listen to anyone's advice or my own doubts. I knew the path I was going down, but I thought this was what I had to do. Otherwise everything I'd been fighting for would be a waste."

He lets go of the breath he was holding, nice and slowly. "But I was wrong. I want to change things, I don't want to toss my life away anymore- and for what? For a job that doesn't care, for a goal I can't accomplish? There's people I care about now, a life I want to protect. I can't be so careless anymore."

You're silent, and Aki allows his shoulders to slump, unclenching his jaw, relaxing his grip on the steering wheel.

"I want to make you happy," He says, his voice noticeably quieter than before. Now, his sentences are smooth, each one dripping with honey: "I want you to know how much you mean to me, because you mean so much, you really do. You're the one who helped me realize all of this. You're the reason I… I changed."

He's right. He isn't the man you first met. The man who was devoted to his mission and his mission alone, who was prepared to fight until there's nothing left of him — but this, this is the Aki you knew. This is the kind, determined, lovesick man you couldn't resist falling for, even when you tried. Love has always defined him. He has love in his very bones and blood, in his touch when he held you, in his lips when he kissed you. You only needed him to realize what he wanted, what he deserves.

After all, this fate is what the two of you were always destined for, wasn't it?

Aki hadn't expected a proper response, he'd hardly realized how much he'd been talking until the car fell back into silence. He grits his teeth slightly, he thinks of apologizing. Or of stopping the car in the middle of the road to turn and give you a damn hug already — but ultimately, he relaxes at the sound of your laughter, he loosens up when he glances at you and sees you smiling.

"You're sweet," You hum, leaning back into your seat, "Way too sweet. You're really such a sweet-talker. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't." Aki grins to himself. He almost misses his next turn when he's lost in thought for too long, and as his hands are turning the steering wheel, he's asking, "Back at the nightclub, there was something you wanted to tell me as well, wasn't there?"

"Ah," You tut playfully, nodding, "You're right. I did plan on telling you something."

"I told you what I had to say. It's only fair if you tell me your secret too. As long as you still want to, of course."

"I don't really think it's much of a secret." You cross your arms over your chest, your cheeks hurt from smiling, "It is important, though. Super important. It might make our whole relationship different from now on. I'm not sure if I should even say it, but here goes. Back then, I was just… y'know. Going to tell you I'm in love with you."

Aki softens, from his body to his core. His hands relax, he breathes a small tch sound and reaches down to half-heartedly push at your knee.

"Stop," He huffs, the edges of his voice made tender by a laugh; the sound is simply delightful, "You had me worried, seriously."

The back of your neck seems hot, and your head is fuzzy, filled with the same storm clouds as the ones that dot the sky. You fall silent for a while, staring up at him, admiring the gentle look of his face, the hazy glimmer in his eyes. The rain drums calmly, woven into you, your heartbeat a steady, anxious patter.

Aki glances towards you for a second, "There was something else I planned to ask you. Once I told you how I felt."

"Uh-huh?" You reply, hiding your emotions behind a raised brow, "What is it?"

"I want to get out of the city for a while," He tells you, "And I want you to come with me. I thought we could plan a trip for a few days out. I still have all my paid leave days for work. Thought we could go somewhere in Kanagawa, like you wanted to. I can take you to that piercing shop. After that, maybe we can head somewhere remote. I've heard Enoshima is nice this time of year."

You blink. Aki idly drums his fingers against the rim of the steering wheel, and he looks over at you, slightly shaking his head, "There's no need to answer right now, though. I just want you to think about it."

"No, that sounds lovely," You say in response. You're grinning up at him, donning a warm expression he can feel settling in between his ribs, "It'd be really nice to go somewhere with you, take a little vacation, just you and me. I haven't been anywhere like that in forever, actually. It'll feel good to have some time off from work."

Aki explains straightforwardly, "I'll cover the expenses. I was hoping to stay in Enoshima for a few days to a week, depending on what you wanted to do."

"Anything is fine with me. But a whole week would be perfect," You stretch your arms out, as though you can almost taste the relaxation, "A week would give us enough time to decompress. If we could find somewhere quiet to stay, God, that'd be so nice. The city is stifling sometimes, isn't it?"

"It is," Aki agrees, "Especially with how busy Public Safety has been lately."

"I'm sure it's been crazy. You probably need a vacation more than anyone." Sighing, you lean your head against the seat's headrest. "Enoshima sounds nice. I saw a documentary about it one time. I remember thinking how nice it'd be to live there, to hear the ocean every time you wake up. It made me miss when I lived far away from here."

He cocks a brow, "You aren't from the city?"

"No, I moved here for school, way back when. I often wish I didn't. But then I wouldn't have met you."

Contemplating your words for a moment, Aki's lips purse into a tight line.

"I feel I've only grown used to Tokyo," He replies at last; gingerly, as though he's still caught up in what you just said, "I grew up out in the country, I really hated it when I was young. I'd feel depressed whenever I went back to visit my hometown, for a lot of reasons. But it just seemed… lonely. Doesn't help that it's always cold there too. Lonely and freezing, that's my hometown. Sounds like a place anyone would love to be, right?"

Perhaps he does hate it, but it's where he grew up, it's someplace important. You bet if you went together, hands intertwined, bundled up close to keep each other warm, you could make his dreary hometown a whole lot less cold, and a whole lot less lonely.

You huff a small exhale out through your nose. You can't help but laugh a little at Aki's flat attempt at humor. "Oh, for sure. Ugh, I can't stand the cold. It was warm where I grew up, even the cold in Tokyo is hard to manage. One of these winters, I'm definitely going to become a popsicle."

Aki smiles, remarking to himself silently, doting internally on how cute you are. He likes this small talk, he enjoys learning new things about you, no matter how minor they may be. He commits your words to his memory. If you aren't fond of the cold, he'll have to carry his jacket more often, for you.

The car draws to a stop in front of your apartment, and Aki pauses, he clears his throat. He turns towards you, his eyes flickering over you once, twice, before they come to rest on your gaze.

"I'm sorry if I made things complicated." Turning the keys, he switches the car off — leaving only the noise of the rain to fill your ears, tapping in rhythmic whispers against the steel roof.

"You didn't, don't apologize," You reply, shrugging your shoulders, "I'm glad you wanted to talk about things."

"I'm glad you were willing to listen."

You eye him curiously, "Were you expecting my response to be different?"

"I think so, I wasn't sure," Aki frowns slightly, he places his hands in his lap, and he watches fresh droplets cascade down the windshield. "What I said to you is… a lot, probably too much to spring on someone so suddenly. I'm sorry for that. I didn't know how you felt about me, exactly. After I told you my own feelings, I was worried you might not want to talk to me again."

"C'mon, why would I act like that?" You answer, your nose scrunching up, "I do want to talk to you. And I'm serious, I care about you, I really…"

Abruptly, you let yourself trail off. Your expression shifts, you stare into Aki's blue eyes with an adoring look in the back of your own. A flash of love he'd liken to the ache in his chest, or to a fresh, sun-kissed sky. Faintly, you admit, "I really am in love with you."

As much as he wants to speak, he can't help but be utterly quiet for a few long, drawn-out seconds. Aki blinks to stop the world around him from blurring, and you refocus in his vision; your form is the only thing he can see, the only thing he's ever needed.

"I tried to forget you, you know," Aki starts. He faces forward, he speaks almost like he's only talking to himself, "I drowned myself in work for a while. I thought it might be best if we both moved on, if I didn't burden you anymore. But I couldn't forget. I couldn't forget you, or that night, or the way I felt. No matter what I did, I couldn't stop myself from falling for you."

Work was tiresome, it did well to drain his energy, but it never took away the memories of you. It meant nothing to distract himself when your fate was already crossed with his. When love and devotion were potent in his veins, tenderness the only thing left of him. He's felt so much since he met you, emotions he doesn't deserve, warmth he still doesn't understand how to hold. You've made a home in his emptiness, given him something more to live for — How is he supposed to go on, if he can't provide you with the same soft safety?

So he's going to try, truly, and honestly try. Things might not work out as perfectly as he wants them to. He's bound to make mistakes, he knows he has so much left to learn. Love is a concept oh-so foreign to him, but he wants to study how to love, he wants to grow as familiar with it as he is with strife and war and meaninglessness. He wants to discover all that love can be, with you at his side: a star in his palms, a promise of possibilities he's yet to explore.

He'll keep you safe and happy, even if it means he must do so with the last of his breath.

You're quiet, but Aki swears he hears you take a low, hitched breath. Gentler this time, burying his head in his hands with his forehead leant on the steering wheel, he keeps talking, he keeps divulging.

"I didn't know what to do for a while. God, you're really something, you know? You had me lost in my own head for days," He sits up, swallowing the lump in his throat, "I realized after a while that I didn't care what happened next, as long as I could be with you. There's still so much I need to find the time to tell you. There's more I want to experience, so much I want us to do."

When you're relaxing together in Enoshima, he wonders if he'll have time to ask you the dumb things he's been dying to know. No, he definitely will. He wants to know more about the place you grew up, and he doesn't mind telling you more stories from Hokkaido, in turn. Would taking you to Enoshima be considered a date? If it isn't, he wants to plan to take you on one — He'll ask you what restaurants you like to go to, what your favorite kind of flower is.

He doesn't know if he could handle going on a date with you, honestly. He's never done that sort of thing, he knows what they do in movies but those are always exaggerated; should he be extra polite, or be lax about it? Would it be strange to hug you, to kiss you when he first sees you, should you go somewhere casual, somewhere fancy?

Shit, if you were wearing some fancy outfit, a pretty dress with pretty jewelry, maybe even some makeup, there's no way in hell Aki could handle that. You'd look beautiful.

Sighing, Aki tries to relax his clenched jaw, he turns towards you and he meets your eyes. Quietly, with his words full of devotion, he mutters the truth, and all he's ever been yearning to say.

"I want to fall even deeper in love with you."

The way you're staring at him rivals a deer in headlights, except you're shaking with a feeling truly pleasant, and there's warmth in your cheeks, budding flowers in your chest. The tension builds until it's almost palpable, until Aki is huffing awkwardly, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. He gives you a reassuring glance.

"You don't have to say anything to this," He mumbles, and his tone is low, smooth with his usual seriousness, but his eyes are glimmering. It's as though you can practically feel the affection radiating off of him, like you're the Earth, and he's the sun. "I just… I wanted to explain how I felt. I'm sorry if I said too much."

He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't for you to chime in with a call of his name. "Aki?"

Aki turns towards you, "Yeah?"

And then, faster than he can think, you're closing the distance between him and yourself.

You're clumsily leaning over the small center console, you're grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and you're tugging him in for a kiss that burns, fire on his lips, a raging sea in his chest. But it's soft, you kiss him so softly yet intensely he feels himself crumble from the inside out. His emotions splinter, and you're putting him back together again. Your lips spell onto his own every possible thing he's been waiting to receive.

You kiss him again, you crawl closer until you're settling in his lap, and both hands cradle his face. You brush his bangs behind his ears with your fingertips, and trace his jaw, his ears, the shape of his earrings. Your lips press to his with a tenderness he finds indescribable. You feel like fresh air, you melt him down to mold him as putty in your hands, to make him into a sculpture of your love. His head tilts with your own, he wraps his arm around the small of your back and your mouth on his sends him spinning, reeling.

When you seperate for long enough to gasp, enough to realize your pulse is running wild, and enough for him to speak, he's working his hand up to hold your cheek, he's breathing against your lips, "I forgot how good it feels to kiss you."

From now on, he won't forget. Each press of your lips on his stores in his chest as a faded blur. Your soft sighs against his mouth echo in his eardrums. His fingers run over the delicate shape of your face, and he comes alive on your lips, your soul devouring what remains of his own. He won't make it somewhere more pleasant, there's too much destruction in his bones. But Aki doesn't have to imagine what heaven is like, because he believes he's found it right here.

"Tell me again," You're pleading once you pull away; you meet his eyes, you have his head tilted up, you're pressed close on his lap. And Aki smiles, a devoted, foolish smile. Sounding more teary, you beg this time, "I want to hear you say it again."

"That I love you?" Aki whispers, holding your chin between two of his fingers. "Do you want me to tell you how much I've thought of you, how I missed you every single day we've been apart?"

Leaning in, your head tilts to the side, and he presses a longing kiss over your cheek, "I could tell you how lovely you are, how beautiful I thought you were, even from the moment I saw you," A kiss to your nose, your jaw, the corner of your mouth — kisses alight on your skin like sparks, "Or should I tell you how lucky I am to have met you, how soft you've made me? How badly I wanted to let go of it all, so I could live a normal life with you?"

Your heart is electric.

Aki leans back, your chin still between his fingers. His gaze locks with yours. He's in every shaky breath you take, he's in your veins as they rush with adrenaline. He's on the tip of your tongue in the form of a name you could never forget.

"I-" You stammer, "Aki-"

"Your face is so warm, sweetheart."

The smile he wears is gentle enough to purify you. He holds your cheek in his hand, his palm feels the warmth underneath, and you shiver, from your head to your toes. You've needed this, needed him. And now, you're never going to let him go.

You knew you'd be drawn together once more, you've needed to know you and Aki would be more than two ships that pass in the night. He kept his promise to you, just as you always knew he would. You've crashed into one another again, and this time, you're going to let yourself drown.

You rest your hands on his shoulders, gripping them tight as you try not to shake. Once again, you're the one choked up. There's so many things you want to tell him, but nothing will come out just right.

So you take a shuddery breath, and you ask instead, "Do you really mean that?"

Aki answers with his smile only glowing brighter. "I have all night to prove it to you, don't I?"

Your cheek cupped in his hand, he pulls you in, and you follow along with magnetism.

Finally, he's been given a chance, an opportunity from you to change the path of bloodshed he's been walking. He won't let this go to waste. He can never fix his past mistakes, he can never bring back those he's lost. He doesn't need to. He can dwell in a peaceful life, he has Denji and Power and he has you. No matter what happens, he'll love you without regrets — endlessly, and unwaveringly.

This life hasn't been kind to him. These new memories will be. He'll fill his head with visions of you, with the wind at your backs, and the ocean in his view. The water will wash over your feet. You'll feel the sand underneath.

The salty sea, the beaches of Enoshima and the sight of the sunset over the water, rays of orange and purple and blue, will become his new favorite sight. But when he turns to you, when he sees the smile on your face and the sparkle in your eyes as you look over the water, in your own world, the one he's so desperately wanted to be a part of — In the end, you will become his fondest memory.

You've got plenty of good things ahead of you. You will be the one to breathe him anew.

And as the rain pelts the windows, and the sky collapses in, Aki kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you.

#no tags. just vibes

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desert-fern · 1 year

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A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 8: The Boat to Riyadh

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: swearing, and I think that's it!

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist >> Part 7 >> Part 9

===

The journey was long and unremarkable. No one could do much and there was only so long someone could be cooped up in close quarters before they lost it. Thankfully, only petty disagreements happened, and knowing her team, Bear knew that it could definitely have been worse. For the most part, the Seals were nose deep in folders, trying to cram the smallest detail into their brains about this mission, possible formations, contingency plans, and more.

The pilots on the other hand, found themselves wandering aimlessly through the ship, alternating between bugging their Seal teammates and each other. But it was safe to say that everyone was bored out of their minds and arrival at Jebel Ali couldn’t come soon enough.

Bear groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face in frustration. The numbers weren’t adding up. There was simply no way that al-Hameed had as many people around him as he claimed. If that were the case, the drones that had been launched repeatedly over the area as well as satellite imaging would have confirmed the number she’d been given. Taking a deep breath, she got up and went in search of Flare, her expert in reconnaissance missions and information gathering. Hopefully her Lieutenant could give her some more insight into what was really going on beyond a man’s over-exaggerated body guard number.

“Flare. Mind following me?” Bear asked, finding the young woman with her nose in a book.

“Bear? Is everything okay?” Flare asked, setting the book down and following after her Commander.

Bear nodded. “For the most part, I’m struggling to grasp something and hoped that you could shed some light on the situation.”

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything,” Flare replied. “What was causing the issue?”

“al-Hameed’s number of followers at the compound. The IJU doesn’t have many active posts in Saudi Arabia, most are in tribal Pakistan, so unless Khrushov’s people were counted and then, I don’t know, doubled or something so it filled the space for al-Hameed, something else is going on,” Bear told her, pointing at the papers in front of her.

“Weird. Give me a second, let me grab my copies so I can compare because something is definitely off.” The young woman rushed from the room, skidding around the corners and past other Navy personnel as she made for her bunk.

Minutes later, she was back, files in hand. “Okay, so this is the satellite image from this day, that matches. But this is from… huh. I see what happened. You were sent the wrong data, because I have these two dates on images and reports, while you have this other one, from weeks ago.”

“So what you’re telling me, Flare, is that my files were changed?” Bear asked, arms crossed.

Biting her lip, Flare hummed. “I can’t say for sure, but it’s weird that I have this and you don’t. Especially since I sent you everything that came across my email in relation to this mission.”

Rubbing her temples, Bear sighed in frustration. “Okay, thanks. I’m trying to get a hold on roughly how many of you guys I will need for this, so I’m going to copy the numbers I need and give this back to you.” Bear sat back down in her chair, continuing on. “Meanwhile, before you get back to your book, I need you to draft an email to send the second we hit secure service in Riyadh. Tell them to take a look into my account, computer, and tech that is on base. I want to make sure that I haven’t been hacked.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Wonderful, thank you.” She watched Flare leave the room, letting out a huff as she went back to her planning. Time flew by, and now with the correct numbers, she knew that she would need most of the people she’d brought along. Better safe than sorry, she supposed.

For Jake, he was reminded just how much he hated the traveling portion of the deployments. Security reasons meant that outside communication was limited, not that he had anyone he wanted to talk to in the States, and that in turn limited access to the internet. At least it was limited for them, Bear had been adamant that all technology was off. Total blackout. “More like total boredom,” he muttered, standing up from his bunk and wandering off to find someone new to chat with.

His wandering brought him down random hallways until he found himself in a room with the Seals. Fireball, for some inane reason, had taken a liking to him, and they had discovered each other’s preference for rival football teams, which they dug up again and when Jake checked the time, he found that they had spent two hours explaining why the other was wrong. “Dude,” Fireball said, exasperated. “The stats speak for themselves. Your team hasn’t been good fo-” he cut himself off, glancing at the door.

Jake turned, finding himself face to face with Bear. “Bear.”

“Flyboy.”

“Commander, is there something you need?” Fireball asked, glancing between his CO and new friend.

She nodded. “But it can wait. If I stare at any more reports today, my head might explode,” Bear complained, flopping into one of the chairs. “I’d get into it, but Hangman isn’t cleared for this level of information, unfortunately.”

The room filled with silence. No one knew what to say, especially since Bear wasn’t typically one to complain. “I intruded on your space, didn’t I?” she asked after a moment. “Shit, okay. Well, food is ready in like 20 so I will see you guys there.” With a groan, Bear heaved herself up and out of the chair, quickly and quietly disappearing from the room.

Glances were exchanged, before Jake stood. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to mess so all the good bread isn’t taken,” he remarked casually, strolling off down the halls after Bear.

She looked confused when he did find her, wondering why he would ask if she was okay. “I’m fine. I just know that there are things that you don’t necessarily want to discuss in front of your CO,” Bear told him, her brown eyes meeting his green. “It’s kind of sweet that you were concerned though. I appreciate it. But I really am fine.”

He gave her a grin, walking backwards towards the door, wincing when his shoulder slammed into the side of the door. “Ow.”

“You good, Flyboy?”

The signature smirk made its appearance on Jake’s face. “Oh, I’m good, Teddy. I’m very good.”

“Oh fuck you,” she groaned. “That was terrible.”

His smirk grew and he strode towards her, backing her into the table behind her. “I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy that too much, Teddy,” he replied, voice low. Jake caught how her eyes widened, how her cheeks pinked, and the little hitch in her breath with how close he stood, and he relished that his presence was all it took for her to lose some of the rigid control she had on her reactions.

Rolling her eyes, Bear shook her head. Slipping out from against the table, she stood with her arms crossed, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You wish, Flyboy. You fucking wish.”

“Oh I do,” Jake retorted. With one more appraising glance, he left her standing in the middle of the room, shock evident on her face.

“Ugh! That motherfucker!”

===

Nearly 20 days after their original departure date and five days after the incident, as Bear had taken to calling it, the USS Abraham Lincoln made port in Saudi Arabia’s port Mina Jebel Ali.

The deck had erupted in chaos, pilots, support crew, engineers, Seals, and any number of personnel were rushing to and fro, trying to get everything settled for the disembarkation of a fraction of the number that would continue on to the naval base in Busan.

“Flare, Shrike, Bug, Fireball, are your people ready?”

“Yes Ma’am, ready and waiting to fly out. Waiting on your signal to send them off,” Bug replied.

“Send them off. Join your teams, I will do one last check with Captain Mitchell before I join you en route to Riyadh,” Bear ordered. “You are dismissed.”

Four nods from her Lieutenants followed her words before they disappeared into the flurry of movement. Bear watched the helicopters take off, each one carrying nearly ten Seals apiece. It made her nervous, knowing how many things could go wrong. Even if it was just an hour and a bit from where the port. Anything could be waiting the second they flew out of the urban areas.

Steeling herself, Bear blew out a deep breath, catching Maverick by the arm as he went to pass her. “Everything set?”

“Hell yeah. Just having them to do final checks on the jets. Should be out within 30 to 45, depending on whether or not Hondo can get everyone organized enough to send us out,” he told her, glancing over her shoulder at Payback, who was finishing up his checks.

“Get your people together, and I will see you soon, Mav.” Bear clapped him on the back before slipping through the crowd to the last running helicopter that sat on the deck of the Lincoln.

Strapping in, Bear placed the headset on, tucked her bag between her feet before signaling to the pilot. “Let’s get this bird in the air.”

===

The flight didn’t take long and when her boots hit the ground at Riyadh Air Base, Bear hurried over, offering an extended hand to the Base Commander, Air Force Colonel Michael Richmond. “Thank you for hosting us, Colonel. We appreciate your cooperation.”

“It isn’t a problem, Commander. Just glad something is finally being done about al-Hameed,” he replied, shaking her hand. “Do you know your way around?”

“I do, Sir. We’ve had some past missions that have had us based out of Riyadh. If nothing changed since I was last here, I believe we should be good to go,” Bear told him. “I hope that the arrangements for our pilots were communicated in advance?”

“Yes, they were. Admiral Harris was quite clear when he sent the request that it was anything but a request,” Richmond chuckled.

“That sounds like him.”

The Colonel nodded, calling over a few of his people. “Staff Sergeants Miller and Roux will show you to the accommodations.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Settling in only took a few hours. But thanks to the time change, most of her people and the pilots were absolutely exhausted. Luckily for them, it was evening when the last F-18 touched down, allowing most of their personnel to fall asleep quickly.

And they did.

The next morning hit them all hard. It was an early start. Maverick had the Daggers up, doing standard runs and drills to get his people back in the air and work out any final kinks as they practiced the bombing run.

Bear, on the other hand, had allowed her Seals an extra hour of sleep, knowing that in two days, they would be up for hours on end. She figured that a little extra sleep couldn’t hurt. At 0630 though, she walked through the halls banging her fist on all the doors of her people whether they were up or not. Training had to be done, but Bear had chatted with Maverick the night before to ask if her people could visit the swath of desert over which the Daggers were running their maneuvers, and he had happily agreed.

So 45 minutes later, Bear and her team traveled out to where Maverick stood next to an abandoned hangar, where they could see the planes twisting and curling through the air like kites whose strings had been let out a little too far. “Bear!” Maverick yelled over the noise, waving them down. “You’re in for a show! I’m pretty sure that they know you’re here!”

“Well we aren’t exactly a small group!” She yelled back, tilting her head up to watch two planes race past overheard, chasing each other with reckless abandon. “And I’m pretty sure they could see us coming for miles!”

He laughed, waving the group of Seals over to cluster around him. “Throw your packs against the wall, I can maybe use a few of you in running this next series.” Tapping the radio in his hand, Maverick spoke, voice crackling through the comms of the twelve pilots above him, “The Seals showed up. A few are gonna give you information. Listen for your call sign.”

“Copy Mav,” Phoenix replied, twisting over Coyote to dive low enough to wave at Bear and Bug before flying off and allowing her aircraft to hover midair, waiting for the instructions. “I can tell Bagman’s a second away from showing off though.”

“Oh fucking hell,” Omaha swore goodnaturedly. “Now wingmen really will be left hanging.”

“Fuck off you two,” Jake replied, his cheeks a little red. “I’m still this good, regardless.”

A few cackles filled his headset, and down on the ground, Bear could hear the teasing from the large radio inside the hangar. It made her grin, loving the ribbing the blonde man was on the receiving end of, thankful that it was his turn and not hers. “Alright people, who wants to go first?” she asked, scanning over her people. A few hands went up, and Bear glanced back at Maverick. “How many did you need?”

He held up four fingers and Bear picked off four people, who followed her to the radio where Maverick stood. He had written down the instructions he wanted certain pilots to have during the exercise, and passed them over to the Seal leader, who flipped them over, making her people draw blindly. “Okay, Coyote, Raptor has some instructions for you. Go ahead Raptor,” the older pilot told the young man next to him.

He relayed information that he was given with minimal issue. He had turned back to Bear, giving her a huge shrug after, saying, “I have no fucking clue what I just said.”

Up in the air, the Daggers heard his words and laughed. “Hate to break it to you, Raptor, but I could tell!” Coyote teased.

The other three Seals had their turns, each one of them making faces back at their Commander signaling their uncertainty. “Well, this will be fun,” Maverick said. Gesturing them forwards, the pilot began telling them the exercise. “So what we just told them to do, is really the most basic one we have. Coyote and Rooster are dogfighting against Phoenix and Halo. It’s just two minutes, a short one. Make sense?”

The Seals around him nodded and they watched as the drill they had relayed to the pilots began. The ducking, dodging, and weaving of the planes had most of the Seals’ jaws dropping in awe. “This is fucking cool,” Fireball exclaimed, knocking into Flare with how he’d been craning his neck to see. “It’s like they’re dancing.”

“At roughly 7000 feet, going hundreds of miles an hour,” Maverick elaborated, grinning widely. It felt good to show off their skills. And why wouldn’t they? The Seals had already had their turn back stateside.

As soon as it had begun, Coyote and the others slowed. The radio spewed joking insults and proclamations of victory all over the other and Bear delighted in the organized chaos. “Damn,” was all the Seal Commander was able to say. “Wow.”

“Hear that? Bear’s impressed with you all,” Maverick gloated, grinning when he saw the woman shake her head at him. “She’s practically speechless.”

Eyes glinting behind her sunglasses, Bear sauntered forwards, snatching the radio from Maverick’s hands. “As speechless as y’all were after we did our first drill?”

The pilots in the sky burst into laughter. “Sh-she’s got you there, Mav!” Rooster laughed, the mental image too funny for him not to.

Meanwhile, Jake was having a crisis. He loved that Bear was impressed. But he hadn’t done anything yet, and a part of him really wanted to hear her express awe at his skills. And her voice through the headset? Absolutely fucking magical. The lightness of her voice made him grin and want to hear her voice in his ear again. In whatever way he could get it.

“Okay, okay. Settle down.” Maverick was side-eyeing the Seal hard, amusement sparkling in his eyes, knowing full well the dilemma Hangman was having up in the sky. It wasn’t new to him. “Bear, want to do the honors for the next one?”

“Seriously?” Bear narrowed her eyes at him, unsure of what he was playing at.

“C’mon Bear!” One of the Seals yelled and the chant was quickly picked up by the rest of them, Maverick pressing the button on the radio to allow the pilots to listen in, which ended up with them goading her as well, all chanting “Do it. Do it. Do it.”

Waving her arms, Bear shouted over the noise, “Okay! Okay! Fucking Christ! Fine, what am I directing them in?”

A piece of paper was pressed into her hands, and she pulled a face at the words on the note. “Okay, this isn’t fucking legible in the slightest. Flare, you’re always reading the worst handwriting, what does this say?”

“Hangman, Payback and Fanboy, Halo and Omaha, and Harvard, and it looks like Mav has something here about a race?” Flare said, looking at Maverick for confirmation.

“That’s it.”

“Great,” Bear picked up the radio and read out the instructions, calling out the four pilots in question. “From the furthest hangar in the west, over the base and back,” she finished.

“Did you understand any of that?” Jake’s voice came through the speaker and she could hear the smirk in his tone.

“I’m aviationally challenged, not directionally challenged, Flyboy,” she teased back.

“Pretty sure that’s not my call sign.”

“Nope, pretty sure I have the right ‘f-boy’.”

“Oh shit!” Fireball shouted, gaping at his CO. “Bear, you can’t just straight up murder a man like that.”

Bear squinted at him. “Did you forget that that is literally part of our job?”

“Right.”

Up in the sky, Jake was still shell-shocked from her quick comeback. He prided himself in being able to put her off her game, but it seemed that she could do the same just as easily.

“All good up there, Hangman? Haven’t heard confirmation of understanding just yet,” Bear said teasingly over his headset, making him groan in frustration.

“Copy that, Ted-Bear,” he replied, the nickname he had for her slipping from his lips with ease. It was only a forced correction that had him changing it mid syllable.

Glances were exchanged. Jake was acting weird, well, weirder than usual and while everyone had a guess as to what was happening, the other party supposedly involved seemed to be unaffected. If only they knew how untrue that was. The groan Jake had let out rattled through Bear’s head, mixing with the fantasies that ran rampant through her mind late at night. It was bad enough she had to see him in that damn flight suit on a daily basis.

Maverick shouted “Go!” and the planes raced past.

Bear watched the planes take off, racing each other down the straightaway. “Which one is which?” She asked Maverick.

“Far right is Hangman. Payback and Fanboy are second left. Omaha is next to Hangman, and Harvard is far left,” he told her, watching the planes begin to distance themselves from one another.

“And here they come!” Someone yelled from behind her. They were right. The planes raced back towards them with who she thought was Hangman in first place. Her suspicions were confirmed when he gave a shout of victory, whooping with delight.

“Alright, back home Daggers,” Maverick told them. “Refuel, and we’ll come back up this afternoon.”

“Copy Mav,” came the replies, with one pilot replying “Okay dad.”

Bear turned to the Seals. “Grab your gear, we’re going back. We have a few more raid drills to practice before we’re done for the day.”

She nodded to Maverick, who returned the gesture, before Bear led the Seals off at a run in the direction of the base.

===

A/N: So they are in Saudi now! Still going to be a bit before it picks up, but Bear is still a boss bitch! Thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky for reading this part for me!

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