#the ageless standoff

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold (Ice Cold)

Part 3 of You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader, Past! Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description: After six months at sea, you're finally on your way home. Things with Jake are great and you've got a firm friend in Mickey Garcia. So why is it that the sight of San Diego harbor approaching faster and faster, makes you more and more nervous? How will your team, the other Daggers, take the news of Bradley and you? More importantly, how can you get even? You may not be the prettiest girl on North Island, but you know your own worth. Jake is proof of what you deserve. Revenge is going to feel good. After all, you know what they say; Revenge is a dish best served cold. In your case, Ice Cold.

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: Cheating, Cursing, Sex, Sexual Themes, Minor mention of non-consensual rough sex, Panic Attack

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 6418

A/N: Hello, Hello! Welcome to the next chapter of You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes! We're getting into the fun stuff now! Jake and Bitsie are back in San Diego and it's time to get even! All of the revenge ideas came from some collective brainstorming done by everyone in the Controlled Chaos Squad! Thanks to all of you for these fabulous ideas!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

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It's been six months since you left San Diego. Six of the most challenging months you've ever spent deployed. The best part of the entire mission has been Jake. After the scare of the standoff while on patrol part way through your mission, you started to move on with Jake. There are only so many romantic things that people can do while on an aircraft carrier, but somehow Jake seemed to manage. You feel like an entirely new person with him. Every time you doubt yourself, he's there to prop you up, support you.

As the carrier approaches the docks in San Diego, however, you can't help feeling nervous. Your stomach is roiling and you have this nasty suspicion that Bradley will be waiting on the docks to greet you along with the rest of the Dagger Squadron. As you stand there with your duffel in your left hand, the fingers of the right are locked in a fist. But your hand opens of its own accord when someone comes to stand on your side. You don't have to look to your right to know who is standing there. The gentle pressure of a skin-warmed ring against the back of your hand is proof enough. 

"Home again, huh?" Jake sounds tired, but so excited to be home. "Dinner, tomorrow night?"

You smile, all the tense roiling in your stomach turning into butterflies in an instant. "Pick me up at 6?"

"You got it, Bitsie!" He's smiling too, and when you sneak a look to your side he's looking right at you, something indescribable in his eyes. Before you can ask him what's on his mind, you're joined by Mickey and Mara. Jake gets lost in the hustle and bustle aboard the ship, but you’re not worried. He’ll find you before he heads home.

"Home again!" You're not surprised at all that Mickey's vibrating out of his skin as the docks grow ever closer. You had no idea that he was married or that he had a baby boy with his wife before this mission. He must miss them desperately.

"Yup! Are you ready to see your family again?" You smile easily as Mickey hugs you tight in his excitement.

"I'm so ready to see them again. I've missed them." His voice is fond as he clutches the pendant he wears permanently. The one that’s a locket containing his wife and son’s pictures. "Did I ever thank you for bringing us back to the ship safely when we ran into that SU-57?" 

"Why would you thank me, Mickey?" You're really not sure why he'd thank you. You didn't do anything really other than nearly having a panic attack and throw your weight around in the flight ops center.

"You got Captain Mills to allow you to fix the radar system. It's funny, y'know. The only thoughts in my mind were my family. But Jake? He was only thinking about you. He's crazy about you. I've never seen him as happy as he has been over the past few months. That's all because of you." Mickey's got his eyes peeled, scanning the crowd looking for his family. 

"He makes me really happy too, Mick." You laugh at the way he leaps into the air all of a sudden, waving at a gorgeous woman holding a chubby baby. "Enjoy your few days off before we're all back on North Island!"

He doesn't even respond before jostling his way to the front of the crowd so he can run right to his family. You follow along at a far more sedate pace. There's nobody waiting for you on the docks. Maybe Callie? But you don't have any family waiting for you. Sure enough, you're absorbed into the celebrations as the Dagger swarm their returning members. Jake’s found his way back to your group after being separated as well. It doesn't surprise you at all that they don't give you a second glance. You've never truly been a part of their family. You're happy enough to accept the hugs from Mara's older sister and those from the rest of your team.

Of course, when you turn back around looking for Jake, you see the two people you never want to see again. They're smiling as widely as can be as they mob you with hugs and in Bradley's case, kisses. The first press of Bradley’s lips to yours has you nearly retching in disgust. Has he always smelled so strongly of patchouli? Did his lips always feel so cold against your own? You push him away as hard as you possibly can once the shock wears away. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand.

"What the hell, Bradshaw?" The anger you've been carefully fostering for the past six months is finally making an appearance.

"What do you mean, Honey? I just kissed my girl to welcome her home." How dare he sound so confused?

"Your girl?!" You walk up to him and poke your finger at his sternum. "I haven't been your anything since I came to your house the day before I left and found you cumming in a trashy blonde named Britney."

He's smirking at you. "Are you sure that wasn't just a bad dream you had, baby?"

"Yes, I’m sure!” You can’t hide your frustration as he keeps trying to put his hands on you. And then there’s Natasha. The minute she sees you, she’s telling you absolutely everything you’ve done wrong over the past months. That list, of course, includes not calling her or Bradley the entire time you were on the carrier. 

Bradley tells Natasha everything. Why, then, do they both look so happy to see you? Why do they look like you never broke up with Bradley? Your temper is fraying and while you’re avoiding Bradley’s hands, you’re looking for Jake. It’s obvious you’re not paying attention to either of them, though, so they switch tactics. 

Bradley gets uncomfortably close to you, curling a strand of your hair between thick fingers and whispering in your ears. “D’you miss me so much, honey, that you were avoiding me so that you didn’t miss me more? What other explanation am I to think of for why you had a nightmare of me fucking another girl? It hurts a little that you’re so distrustful, but we can get past it. You’re home now, with me. I’m going to make sure my girl is fucked properly tonight.”

His words make you feel completely sick. You’ve only heard this particular tone from him one other time - the night he’d called you a slut for being nice. He’s going to dominate your body and soul if you don’t escape from him. But none of your friends, not Jake or Mara and Mickey are in eye or ear-shot. So you take matters into your own hands and step right on his instep as hard as you can, hissing words of your own into his ear.

“I’m NOT your girl, Bradshaw. Not anymore. You couldn’t see a good thing if it was standing in front of you, holding your hand.” Your chest heaves with every word. “Don't gaslight me, you ass. We're through. As far as I'm concerned, never seeing you again will be too soon!"

 There's steam pouring out of your ears as you go in search of Jake. But you don't find him. Not until you reach the parking lot. He's talking to Coyote and smiling as he grabs keys from his friend's hand. When you walk up, you get a smile from Coyote but barely one from Jake. Coyote looks between you and Jake for several beats before loping back towards where Payback and Mickey are with Mickey's family. When you turn back to Jake, he's glaring at you. 

"What happened?" Did Jake get bad news?

Your face drops as he spits out, "What happened? So you’re back with me, huh? What happened to Bradshaw? Was it all some plot? Make me fall for you and yank the rug out from under me? If this is some sick foreplay between the two of you and Phoenix, keep me out of it."

"No!" You try to take his hand, but he avoids every move you make.

"Then why was he kissing you?" He saw Bradley kiss you. No wonder he feels like you betrayed him. 

"It's this twisted, gaslighting game the two of them are playing. He had the gall to accuse me of dreaming that he cheated. I pushed him away. I don't want his kisses anymore, Jake. Just yours." He's looking at you intently, cataloging all your facial expressions.

"Prove it." There's something in his face that you can just see. He looks resigned, so sure that you're going to let him down.You hesitate just a little, but your resolve is set when you see his expressions freeze into an emotionless mask. You step forward after setting your duffel down next to Jake's own. You stand on tiptoes and tug his mouth down to yours. This kiss sets your blood aflame in a greater magnitude than the chill Bradley’s had sent coursing through your veins. Jake tastes so good, always. You could drown in his cologne and stay wrapped in his arms for the rest of your life. You pull away when the need for oxygen becomes apparent and just stare into his eyes.

"I promised, didn't I? That I'd prove to the world that he was wrong about you? You don't have to test me, Jake." You cup the back of his head, carding your fingers through the soft, short strands at the base of his neck as you look into his emerald eyes. At your words, Jake drags you into another head-spinning, intense kiss. This time when you break away, it is because of whistling and cheering. Your face feels hot and flushed as you hug Jake for a few more minutes before turning back around.

The Dagger Squad is arrayed around you, and you can tell based on their faces who has sided with Bradley and who has sided with you and Jake. Mickey, Mara and your team are smiling at you. So are Coyote, Payback, Callie, Omaha. The remainder of the team, composed of Fritz, Phoenix, Bob, Harvard and Yale, are glaring at you. At the forefront of the glaring faction is Bradley. Jake's tense as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

"Oh, baby." Bradley's voice sends shivers down your spine. "What happened, huh? You rolled into bed with Bagman and you decided that I had cheated?” He looks sadly at Phoenix and Bob, appearing for all the world like a victim. “I thought you knew better than to get involved with Bagman! He corrupts everything he touches. I hoped you’d never end up in his clutches. Don’t come running back to me when he dumps you because you’re too innocent for him." 

Jake's jaw is clenched as he glares right at Bradley's face. You forestall Jake's poison tongue with a kiss to the cheek and decide to unleash your own. You pull your iPad out, scrolling to the pictures and video you'd taken the night before you left for the mission, when you had gone to Bradley's house. You’re so thankful that you have multiple backups of the incriminating footage. You pick the videos to play one after the other.

"I cheated?!" Your voice is more menacing than you've ever heard it. "If I cheated, then who's this blonde on your dick? I don't make accusations without proof." You show the aviators, who you'd thought were your friends, the videos first, keeping the sound off so you don't have to hear Britney's fake moans spill out. You can’t help the grim smile curling your lips as Bradley and Natasha both blanche. Bob, for one, is frowning intensely as the videos play. 

"Who's the cheater now, huh?" Your smile is a shark’s grin, bared for blood as you go for the jugular. "She gives it better to you than I can, right? Well, then. I found someone who can give it to me better than you ever could." You turn to Natasha next. "Then, there's the matter of you, Miss Firebird. You knew he was cheating. Multiple people have told me that the only Britney they knew was Bradley’s cousin from San Francisco.”

“Obviously, that’s not true. I mean,” Your tone is cutting and darkly mischievous as you continue. “Come on, Bradley. I knew you were from the middle of nowhere. But I had no idea you were redneck enough to fuck your cousin. But that’s a whole ‘nother issue, I guess.” You can hear Jake’s chuckle as you continue.

“Back to you, Trace. I thought you were my friend. Sisters before Misters and all that. Guess I was wrong. You can keep your so-called friendship. Maybe he'll finally turn around and realize that you're in love with him and give you a chance." They’re both spluttering now, Natasha’s face is neon red with mortification at your words and Bradley looks ready to throttle you. But you don’t pay either of them any mind, moving right to Jake’s truck.

He's already loaded your bag into his truck and has the door open for you. As you step up into the cab, you kiss him, relishing in how good it feels. It's with Jake that you finally feel at peace. He’s smiling from ear to ear as he gets you settled in the passenger seat, even going so far as to buckle you in. For several moments it’s silent as you wait for Jake to get settled in the driver’s seat. Right before he turns the truck on, he tips your mouth to meet his again. You can feel his smile against your lips as he peppers your mouth with kisses.

“That, sweetheart? That was amazing. I’ve never seen Phoenix at a loss for words before. You stripped them down so skillfully. You also exposed them for what they are. Manipulators and fair-weather friends.” He kisses you one more time before taking your hand in his securely. When you look out of the windshield, you can see all of the aviators talking to and over Bradley and Natasha. Your entire team has joined in. It doesn't look like either of them will have very many friends by the end of the day.

“I - I didn’t overdo it?” Your voice is quiet as you trace your fingers over the smooth silhouette of Jake’s academy ring.

“No, sweets. You did not. You gave them a talking-to that someone should have long ago. I’m not even sure how long it’s been since someone who wasn’t a pilot put them in their place.” He kisses your knuckles and you let the tension drain away.

You spend the rest of the night with Jake. Your earlier words may very well have been hyperbole, but you find out that you spoke the truth that night when Jake fucks you so hard you see stars and when you feel so loved that you could never forget it. You wake up the next morning to messages on your phone. The first few are from Mara and Mickey, including one group chat named REVENGE in all-caps. The last one is from Bob, apologizing for Natasha and everything she's done to cause you pain. He also offers to help out however and whenever you need. So of course, you invite him to meet you for brunch.

When you and Jake meet Mickey, his wife and son, Mara, Bob, Meg and Callie for brunch, that's when the planning for the Revenge begins. Most of it happens while you've got Baby Alex on your lap, keeping the little guy distracted while he plays with your bracelet. You feel Jake’s eyes on you the entire time you’re cuddling the child close. You can’t resist feeding him bites of food or pressing kisses into his downy soft hair either. Jake gives Bob the run-down of your plan hatched in quiet moments on the carrier. He's in 100%, at least for the parts involving Natasha. It helps too, that he's roommates with her and can give you unfettered access to her bedroom when you need it.

It might be a bit juvenile, playing pranks on the two of them, but what else can you do? Jake, Mickey and Mara had helped you pore over Naval regulations for hours while you were on the carrier. Even with the evidence you have, they'd only get a slap on the wrist each and be free to do this to anyone else they like. And there are some lines you just won't cross. That is your first, and really, only, rule. 

You want revenge, not to cause grievous bodily harm. Everything you and your friends do needs to be semi-legal and absolutely untraceable to you. Additionally, nothing you do can happen on base. For Bradley, you’ve got that on lock. Early on in your relationship, he’d given you spare keys to his house, the Bronco, and the security alarm and camera codes. He’d told you himself that he never changes the passcodes and that he even completely forgets to turn the alarms or cameras on. He’ll never know what hits him. For Natasha, that���s why you’ve conscripted Bob. As her roommate, he can pass you the keys to the apartment while maintaining an air of plausible deniability.

You wait for a while to set your revenge plans in motion. Each day, you fall even deeper in love with Jake. With each day, you also see how Bradley and Natasha's reputations have fallen since you returned to San Diego, as well. Nobody speaks to Bradley or Natasha anymore unless it’s mission critical. Bob, poor sweet Bob, has been getting the brunt of Natasha’s ill-temper all day. She's rude and snappy, basically only barking orders at him, and barely, barely listening to his advice. 

The day after Bob requests to fly with Jake is the day all of your plans are put into motion. It starts with keys. You still have Bradley and Natasha’s phone numbers. So you buy cheap keys for various doors from an Etsy seller who collects them and keeps the rare ones and attach tags on them. When everything is said and done you have over a hundred keys with Bradley’s phone number and over a hundred with Natasha’s phone number all containing the message: “Call if lost. IMPORTANT!” Over the past weeks you’ve been leaving the keys around the greater San Diego area, hoping that someone will start calling either of them to pick the key up. It starts right after Mav announces the wingman change. You and your team are running simulations against an F-22 you’ve got in the corner of the hangar when you hear the way Phoenix starts yelling at Bob.

She’s getting into his personal space, all accusatory and angry about why he’s leaving her when he’s supposed to have her back. That’s when her phone rings. She picks it up mid-yell, holding one finger out before barking, “WHAT!”, into the device. Her brow furrows as she listens intently to the person on the other end.

“My key? No, I haven’t lost any keys.” They’re insistent, the good samaritan on the other side. Natasha tells them repeatedly that it’s not her key, but eventually, she gives in. Her huff of breath is over-exaggerated as she marches out of the hangar. You watch the show for the next two weeks as Lieutenant’s Trace and Bradshaw get call after call. All about lost keys. Their tempers are even shorter than they have been since they got back. They’re letting it affect their work in addition to their personal time. Natasha’s been like a dog with a bone, trying and failing to figure out where the keys are coming from. But she doesn't have the time or the patience to actually figure anything out. Bradley seems to care less. In fact you’ve heard him on the phone with Britney asking her to pick up the keys for him.

It’s time to up the game. Mara’s sister works for one of the big drug companies. When you were discussing revenge plans, the top suggestion was an erectile dysfunction drug trial. It just so happens that Mara’s sister has friends in the pharmaceutical industry looking for candidates for an ED trial. It’s a matter of a couple of hours to sign Bradley up for as many trials as Mara’s sister can refer you to with his phone number.  Bob also manages to get Britney’s phone number as well, so you sign Bradley up with her phone number as well.

When Bradley’s at the Hard Deck one night, singing away on the piano with Britney perched on his lap, you drive to his house. He hasn’t changed the alarms or even turned them on. You pull out the placebo ED pills Mara gave you weeks ago and sneak into the master bedroom. The entire house smells like patchouli and cotton candy. Britney must be the source of that atrocious, sickeningly-sweet, juvenile scent. The house is also a complete mess. All the pictures are awry and there is shattered glass and clothing everywhere. As you pass the kitchen, you can see the trash can overflowing near the back door and you can smell something rotten the whole way. Carole Bradshaw would have a heart attack if she ever saw her house like this.

The bedroom, too, is covered in trash and clothes and littered with used condoms. At least he’s getting his dick wet? The white sheets on his bed look gray with dirt and stiff as a board. You shudder in disgust, glad that at least you’re wearing gloves so you don’t have to touch a single filthy surface. You’re also immensely glad that you never have to sleep in that bed ever again. You place the pills conspicuously in the medicine cabinet and leave.

The next day is when the first of the drug trial screenings start. It’s hardly a surprise when the squadron and your team are at the Hard Deck that night and Britney comes storming in.

“Baby!” Her voice is squeaky and high-pitched. She’s so angry she’s quivering in her fake Gucci slides. “Tell me why I just got a phone call from a drug company talking about participating in a drug trial?”

“I dunno, Baby.” He shrugs, coolly taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand. “It’s probably just a spam call.”

“Yeah, see, I thought so too. But they weren’t talking ‘bout me! They were asking about you! For an erectile dysfunction drug trial.” Britney’s last words are so loud that most of the bar goes silent.

“So I went to check your medicine cabinet.” She pulls something out of her tiny purse. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” 

You turn into Jake’s chest, putting your arms around him as you muffle your laughter. Jake plays it off by tugging you into a kiss. Most of the bar is snickering at the free show Britney’s putting on. The final straw is when she sees you and walks right to you as fast as she can with her weird mincing gait.

“Did you know?” You blink at her.

“You didn’t?” At her shocked face, you continue.

 “Aww, you’re really just a kid aren’t you? It’s nothing on you. Some men just need a little assistance to get it up for a pretty girl. It’s just biological. You’ve been with Bradley for how long? Six months at least, right? He’s probably been ashamed of it. You should be as supportive as possible!” Your voice is anything but quiet, and in the hush the bar is under it carries quite far. 

Bradley’s face is an unflattering puce shade as Britney flounces back to him and starts fawning all over him. It's only a couple of minutes before he pays and drags Britney out with him, still chattering on and on about how, "Erectile Dysfunction isn't anything to be ashamed about, Baby!" and, "Aww, you're still my daddy, Braddy!"

Bradley gets phone calls day and night for the next two weeks. He’s the talk of North Island. You can’t count the number of times you’ve heard others talk about how even Lieutenant Bradshaw fell victim to a man’s worst ailment. Everytime he walks into the room, people ask him how many pills it takes. At the Hard Deck, it’s even worse. Sure, all the old-timers buy him sympathy drinks, but even when Britney is there, all the badge bunnies that had fawned over him give him disgusted looks and walk away as fast as they can. For a man who prides himself on his prowess in bed and out of it, this is a shot to his ego that he can’t take.

You and Jake stay apart from it all, casually watching the hits to Bradley’s ego day by day. Bradley doesn’t hide a single longing glance whenever he catches Jake whirling you around on the dance floor. Whether Britney is on his arm or not, his eyes settle on your face, heavy and uncomfortable. Jake makes all the sensations wash away like water off a duck’s back though. You can’t believe now that you ever thought Bradley Bradshaw would marry you or that you’d ever spend the rest of your life with him. You’re finally becoming aware of what a relationship is supposed to be like. 

It doesn't surprise you at all one morning when Bradley walks into the officer’s ready room on the phone with his coffee cup in one hand. You only hear a one-sided conversation, but it's enough to have you in paroxysms of glee. Glee which you can’t show, but feel nonetheless.

"I understand, sir. But I did not submit my phone number for your drug trial." There's a pause as Bradley frowns into his coffee cup. "What do you mean there were multiple submissions of my phone number? My girlfriend's too?!" 

More glaring and now he's dragging his fingers through his curls. "What do you mean they were anonymously submitted? You don't have a single name? A single phone number?" 

His mouth is agape now. "There was a webform to fill out? You're not tracking any user data? None at all?"

Bradley's frown is thunderous as he listens to the last words the representative on the line says. "What the hell does that mean, huh? A double-blind trial? I don't care what it means for your fucking trial. I don't have erectile dysfunction, I don't need medication for it, and I would like you to stop calling my girlfriend and I about it!"

He hangs up the phone and launches the ceramic cup in his hand in your direction. You duck, as do your team members, avoiding the ceramic missile as it impacts against the wall, shattering into a million sharp shards while leaving a sizable divot in the drywall. There is something unhinged in his gaze as he stomps towards you.

“YOU! YOU DID THIS!” You look at him with your mouth parted. “YOU SIGNED ME UP FOR THESE ED TRIALS!”

“Lieutenant Bradshaw. Why the hell would I do that?” You know why you did it. His reaction more than ever tells you that you made the right choices for your revenge. The whole point is that he has no idea why you did it. “I deleted your number. I don’t have it anymore.”

“But your boyfriend” He crooks his fingers as he says that last word, “still does. How do I know that he didn’t give you my number?”

Bradley’s completely in your personal space right now.

“You don’t.” Your voice is carefree as you shrug your shoulders and turn around.

He turns you around roughly, his hands too tight around your upper arms as he breaths crazy-eyed into your face.

“FIX IT!” He’s roaring now, acting for all the world like a toddler who hasn’t gotten his way.

You try ineffectively shrugging him off, but when that doesn’t work, you settle for responding to him as calmly as you can.

“Fix it? Lieutenant Bradshaw, I didn’t think you thought so highly of me.” You’re channeling Jake at his most infuriating at the moment. “How would I be able to fix something that I didn’t even do?”

He seems dumbstruck by the thought. This? Is this really the man who became one of the top Naval Aviator’s in the nation? You shrug him off finally just as Maverick calls him in for his next hop. He’s flying with Phoenix, Harvard, and Yale. This is the perfect chance to put the next part of your plan into action. 

You head out of the room, making your way towards the locker rooms. You pass Jake and Bob on the way. Jake’s sweat mussed and tousled, smiling from ear-to-ear as he chats cheerily with Bob. They both give you identical Cheshire Cat grins as you walk into the female officer’s locker room. Natasha’s always been diligent about closing her locker. But you know the combination. It’s the matter of minutes to open your own locker and take out the small bottles you’d packed that morning.

You’ve never thought to thank your lucky stars that Natasha is a billion times cleaner than Bradley. She’s got all of her toiletries neatly arrayed on the shelf. It’s a matter of a few moments for you to pull out her shampoo and conditioner. You unscrew the bottles and carefully squirt in half of each bottle you brought into her shampoo and half into her conditioner. You shake the bottles well and set them carefully back into her locker, ensuring the door is locked as you do so. Now all you have to do is wait. For the next few months you watch as Natasha’s hair grows lighter and sparklier. You’re always careful to use the weakest bleaching agent you could get, in this case a mixture of peroxide and baking soda. The best part is how every time she switches out her hair products you let her hair breathe before you go back to mixing the glitter and peroxide- baking soda solution in. She always gets so cocky when she switches her products.

Glitter is a bitch to get out of clothes and hair. You know from experience. Jake’s niece had sent you a glitter encrusted paper crown while you’d been deployed. One wear and you’d been picking glitter off your person for the rest of the voyage. Paired with the gradual lightening of her hair and it’s fascinating to see how the prim, straight laced Phoenix loses her composure. Her hair hasn’t lightened too much from her natural chocolate color. She looks great, actually, the bitch. She’s just so Type A about it, that’s it normal for you to hear a rant in the locker room if she’s ever in the room at the same time you are. The motes of glitter are so small that she looks like a runway-ready supermodel at all times.

Summer roars into San Diego in mid-May. That’s about when you begin to hear the susurrations of another deployment coming the Daggers’ way. This time, it’s an eight week joint training exercise in Nevada. The Navy and Air Force are sending jets and their pilots for it. There’s a lot of Navy pride on show on North Island coming up on the day Bradley, Natasha, Payback and Fanboy, Omaha and Halo leave. The entire base is festooned in flags and Naval squadron banners and pennants. Unsurprisingly, Britney is fawning all over Bradley, doing a kiss and cry, bawling crocodile tears as he gets into his jet and flies away.

That night, you sneak into Bradley’s house and plant frozen shrimp in his shower rods, and a frozen fish in the trunk of the Bronco as your final act of revenge. Britney isn’t around. Not at all. You don’t think she’s even been back to the house since Bradley left. It doesn’t even surprise you a couple of days later when you see her at the Hard Deck all over another aviator. You don’t even bother giving her any attention. She’s a case of Chlamydia or Gonorrhea or any number of other sexually transmitted diseases waiting to happen. She’s also not your problem.

Those eight weeks are genuinely some of the most fun you’ve ever had. North Island is finally as much fun as it was before your life fell apart and you had to build it all back together piece by piece. Slowly, you let the ache for vengeance, for revenge fade away too. When you think of Bradley now, you see him as he is. A hurt, distraught boy who lost everything, everyone who loved him. A boy who never truly knew how to make the most of his life. A boy who is scared to trust anyone or anything with who he is, because everyone else who he trusted with himself is gone now.

You turn over a new leaf when the remaining Daggers get home again. You treat Bradley and Natasha, no, Lieutenants Bradshaw and Trace, as professionally as possible. You’re not overtly kind or adversarial. You treat them like any other distant colleague. That’s what works. At least until you walk into the officer’s ready room one afternoon in search of coffee. Bradshaw’s in there, talking to someone on the phone. It’s another one-sided conversation. You try your best not to eavesdrop, though your heart drops when you hear what he’s talking about. 

"What do you mean, you've never seen it, Britney?" He sounds distraught. "Th-that was my mom's wedding ring. She wore it until the day she died. It's one of the only pieces of her I have left. Other than, of course, the house I let you trash."

You can barely hear the squeakiness of her voice as she responds back to him.

"It's always on my dresser, Britney. You know that. You've looked at it enough." Whatever she says has him chuckling mirthlessly. "If we weren't through already, I would've broken up with you for this."

You finish pouring your coffee in silence. When you turn around, your mug in hand, Bradley's standing on the other side of the bar.

"You heard that, huh?" You nod, not sure what you can say, how you could possibly console him.

"I bet you're happy, aren't you? To see me in so much pain?" His eyes are red-rimmed and so sad. 

"No, Bradshaw, I'm not." You inhale. "I know what Carole Bradshaw means to you. I know what both your parents mean to you. Why would I be happy to cause you pain?"

"B-because I was happy to cause you pain. For months. If you hadn't wised up, I would probably still be doing it." He looks so lost. "You wouldn't by any chance know where my mom's ring could've gone, do you? I mean you pranked everything else. The shrimp was a good touch."

"I didn't take it, Bradshaw." He doesn't believe you, you know that by the look on his face. It reminds you how at one point you knew him better than you knew yourself.

You leave him in the ready room alone after that. But Carole's ring still remains in your brain. You try everything you can to find it, but ultimately have to give in. It's not like you have a tracking chip on Britney after all. Life does what it always seems to. It moves on. You don't forget the pain Bradley and Natasha put you through, but you do forgive them for it.

As luck would have it, one of Jake's old squad mates is getting married in Italy. It's a fall wedding and supposed to be gorgeous. You buy your dress easily, but it's your jewelry that you struggle with. Meg suggests a cute little Mom and Pop owned pawn shop downtown, so when you have a free weekend afternoon you head down there. You find your necklace and earrings easily. But the sweet older lady manning the till also tells you there is a matching bracelet which is supposed to be a part of the set. 

She points you to a dusty case and it's while you search for that bracelet that you see it. It's Carole Bradshaw's wedding ring. The oval cut diamond looks just like you remember it, and it's complete with the engraving on the inside of the band, "My darling Carole, I'll love you forever. Your Nick." You can't resist purchasing it along with the necklace set. 

"That's a beautiful ring, isn't it, Miss?" She's so elegant, her hair gray and eyes filmy but still beautiful and poised.

"It is." You take a breath and explain to her it's significance.

"So you're returning the ring to your ex?" You can't blame her for asking the question. 

"Yeah, I think I am." That's when you get an idea. "I noticed that you have a security system in here. Do you remember what day you bought this ring?"

"Yes, I do. It was a young blonde girl. She was sobbing about being pregnant and needing money." She shrugs. "So, I bought the ring. Between you and me though, I don't think she actually was. She walked into the liquor store next door and walked out drinking from a bottle of Vodka."

She's smiling at you, and you smile back, not surprised in the slightest that Britney would go so far to dupe an old lady.

"Can you pull up the security camera footage for that day? And send it to this address with the ring?" You smile as she calls her son in from the backroom. You repeat your request to him and in short while you've sent Carole Bradshaw's ring home.

It feels like the end of an arc of your life. You finally feel at peace. When you pull into your driveway, and see Jake standing there, you know for sure you made the right choice. Now and always. It's time to live your life with the man you love on your terms. Not for revenge.

Taglist:

✈️ @greenbaby12 ✈️ @mayhemmanaged ✈️ @desert-fern 

✈️ @roostersforevergirl ✈️ @cassiemitchell ✈️ @eli2447 

✈️ @the-romanian-is-bae ✈️ @luckyladycreator2 ✈️ @lunamoonbby 

✈️ @daphne-turner ✈️ @callsign-athena ✈️ @angeliccks ✈️ @dakotakazansky 

✈️ @daisydaisygoose ✈️ @inky-sun ✈️ @sky0401 ✈️@fighterpilothoe 

✈️ @pulisvertz ✈️ @wildxwidow ✈️ @angelbabyange ✈️ @devylindisguise 

✈️ @chaoticassidy ✈️ @genius2050 ✈️@sarahsmi13s ✈️ @roosterforme 

✈️ @lavenderbradshaw ✈️ @bobby-r2d2-floyd ✈️ @lovinglyeternal 

✈️ @bradleybeachbabe ✈️

My Taglist for this fic is Open!

Want to be added to the Taglist for this fic? Leave a comment on this masterlist or drop me a message in my inbox!

PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. I DO NOT ACCEPT TAG-LIST REQUESTS FROM BLANK OR AGELESS BLOGS. THIS IS AS MUCH FOR MY SAFETY AND LEGALITY ON THE INTERNET AS WELL AS YOURS.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #you play stupid games you win stupid prizes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #past rooster x reader #past bradley bradshaw x reader #past bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster is a dick #he's not the greatest in this #top gun imagine #top gun angst

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 36

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome to my bi-weekly fic rec list! This is everything I read in the last two weeks. There's some seriously amazing shit on this list, y'all. If I counted properly there are 9 fics, two of which are series.

All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.

Punish me, Officer Djarin

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

You've been thrown into an imperial prison for anti-empire speech. During your sentence, a new prison guard is hired, Officer Djarin, and you take a liking to him.

f!reader, reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, uneven power dynamic, brat taming, degradation (scumbag), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, his glove in your mouth lol, no use of y/n

To Tell You the Truth

Ezra series by @concussed-to-pieces

Our story begins in the Green, after a certain meeting that culminates in an explosive Truxican standoff...

Survival, Worldbuilding, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Healing, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Extreme Duress, My First Work in This Fandom, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Past Abuse, Feelings Realization, Artist Reader, Reader is a prospector, Outer Space, Sharing a Bed, Roommates, Mutual Pining, Vaginal Fingering, Praise Kink (if you squint), Religious Terms used improperly, Catholics H8 Me, Remember, no man's penis will heal you okay, and fanfictions are not research, But I'm an indulgent fuck so it's okay, Vaginal Sex, big dick energy, Eventual Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Just get it all in there, adoration, Very Flowery Terminology, Happy Ending

Sanguine

Ezra one shot by @marisferasiop

since being turned as a boy into- whatever liminal state of cryptid he is now- Ezra has walked this earth ageless and alone, never finding his place or a partner for long. He interrupts your meal in the city one evening, and brings you home to strike up a deal; feed from him, alone, and keep one another safe from discovery. The fact that he finds his purpose under the soft graze of your teeth and home between your thighs is a nice side effect.

lots of blood, smut, soft yearning sweet boy Ezra, mapuche mythology and monsters, schmoop. Ezra is a subby little sap in this.

Routine

Frankie one shot by @endlessthxxghts

Frankie makes a new routine for himself to help with his mental health. In that routine, Frankie stumbles upon you.

POV switching - stops towards the end, then POVs are combined. Friends to lovers. Slightly scared and reluctant friends to lovers. Slow burn. Canon divergent to Frankie’s Triple Frontier storyline (No history of lady or child for Frankie). Brief mentions of South America and Frankie’s mental health. Brief therapy talk. Overthinking!Frankie, but Reader comforts and reassures him. He’s not insecure the entire time, promise lolol. Hints of angst, but this is me we’re talking about — always will be a happy ending here🫶. No physical description of reader besides coffee shop uniform (no size descriptions used) - any descriptions are neutral, no adjectives to describe (purely things like “your thigh” etc.). No use of “y/n”. SMUT heheheh (making out, cunnilingus + fingering, unprotected P in V sex + cumming inside, breast worship/titty sucking).

Go Your Own Way

Javi P one shot by @schnarfer

Loving you isn’t the right thing to do

1979 Texas, very toxic relationship, sort of enemies to lovers if you squint a bit, absolutely no happy ending for our fuckboy Javier, no descriptions of reader except she has hair and there are outfit references, no specific ages mentioned in 1979 but they would both be early 20’s, Cheating/infidelity mentioned, smoking (OF COURSE), mention of drinking and drugs, two mentions of vomit, the good stuff? we’ve got flirting, kisses and smut; protected PIV, oral (f receiving), fingering, very light dirty talk, couple of light slaps, pet names (cariño, baby), Javier POV, I’ve tried to remove any overt British-isms but some may have slipped in, probably a bit of canon divergence, as well as wild historical and geographical inaccuracies but we’re going for vibes, yeah? and a note, we’re always Fleabag coded here.

Some fools fool themselves

Javi P one shot by @freelancearsonist

You were meant to be a mission—an insider that Javi could wring information from on some of the biggest names in the trade. It didn’t go to plan, but maybe that’s not so bad.

Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (m receiving), throatfucking, handjobs, creampie, spanish dirty talk (both javi and reader - translations in footnotes), reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader wears a bikini, smoking/nicotine use, cheating (reader is married this is the mob wife fic you all asked for), kind of angsty but mostly just porn with the slightest sprinkling of plot for ✨flavor✨

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

Marcus P one shot by @whataperfectwasteoftime

I am a visitor here. I am not permanent.

angst, breakups, mentions of Teresa x Patrick Jane

Cabuorir

Oberyn/Din/Reader series by ToricTailor (AO3)

You would have torn the heavens asunder to stop it.

Fix-It, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), Get This Man A New Ship, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Reader sandwich, Force-Sensitive Reader, Polyamory, DVP, more

I want it, I got it

Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

Joel gives you unlimited access to his credit card to shop online while he eats you out.

reader is able-bodied, no outbreak AU, porn with little plot, no age specified for reader, reader sits on Joel’s lap, established sugar daddy relationship, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, squirting, pet names (angel, baby), no use of y/n

Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

[desert-bluffs-and-me]

WTNV quick rundown - 92 - If he had lived

Check out my other rundowns for episodes, shows, book etc here!(or using the tags)

Which came first? The chicken, the egg, or airplanes? Welcome to Night Vale

This episode is about NV's 'National Alternate History Week', in which they celebrate history that could have happened. The Night Vale Historical Society sorts through the local submissions, and the best story gets placed into the elementary school curriculum.

Cecil's submission/story he chooses is wondering what would have happened if Kennedy had lived. Which (according to Cecil) is - first: he would have eaten lunch, he would have gone to Austin, he would have been reelected, he would have pulled the the US out of Vietnam earlier resulting in a different culture landscape and higher population, Jackie Kennedy would have felt no grief (but also be ageless, emotionless, changed).

In 1973: Kennedy is finishing his third term, an embargo in the Middle East results in soaring gas prices (but America is still confident in Kennedy), he saw them through the Cuban Missile Crisis (1962), the Svitz-Franchia Standoff (1967) and the rise of the Blood Space War (1971), he has learnt to multiple himself and visits every single gas station to smile at the long lines of people and fill them with confidence.

He continues to be president through the 70's and 80's where: a bio-pic is made of his life staring mid-level movie star Ronald Reagan (who would soon be washed up), Paul Simon releases his unsuccessful Graceland album about Kennedy's 1982 visit to Graceland, Jackie Kennedy has not aged (may even be younger) and she walks alone at night with anyone who tries to approach pushed back by a faint mist that smells of apple and spice and feels like thousands of needles (witnesses claim her feet don't touch the ground and her arms and inhumanly long).

In modern times, You are our biggest problem and Kennedy (who has been president for decades) wishes to solve you.

In 2080: the coastal regions of the US are being swallowed by the sea, the eighth siege of the great NV temple rages on, the scion of the Dark Order appears, Kennedy brokers a deal with the Sino-Soviet super state to provide safe passage for climate refugees, he says the sea level won't rise any more but it does and millions are displaced, Jackie Kennedy is lying in the rose garden and allowing moss to grow on her feeling like she can almost tell that this alternate history and not what really happened.

Eventually there is the heat death of the universe and everything is reduced down to it's average (beige). The Kennedy's float through space, both vaguely aware that something else was supposed to happen, Kennedy haunted by headaches and vague memories of being shot, Jackie numb to all emotion.

Other alternate histories that were presented this week included: what if Germany had won WWII, what if the South had won the Civil War, what if bathmats were never invented and what if somehow Germany had won the Civil War.

The winner however is that the Beatrix Lohman Memorial Meditation Zone was never built, so it will be demolished to match the new reality.

Weather: "Opposite House" by Cass McCombs

Earlier in the episode Cecil states how bad it would be to lose the meditation zone and that you can go there to be 'relaxed and harvested'.

The Weather Service says that the persistent thunderstorms over west NV might actually be the movements of the Distant Prince. Or just perisistent thunderstorms.

Apparently the moon is jealous of the sun.

OW Josie has fallen and injuried her hip but is recovering well in hospital, despite hospitals being poorly understood. Despite which NV apparently has ghost ambulances and a ghost wing which treats ghost patients and is better quality than the ghost hospital in Pine Cliffs which is a town entirely inhabited by ghosts. Pine Cliffs citizens apparently come to NV's ghost hospital all the time because of this. Cecil says he wishes they'd solve their own problems instead of taken resources away from NV's ghosts.

Stay tuned next for a hypothetical history that we are all making up together, continuously, just by living it. Good night, Night Vale. Good night. 

Proverb: “Writing rules. One: write a lot. Two: read a lot. Three: if someone tells you not to use adverbs or some other Elmore Leonard thing, swiftly kick them."

#wtnv #wtnv quick rundown #wtnv ep 92 #welcome to night vale

[sassykattery]

Diavolo's Date, Part 5

Welcome to Part 5~

CW: MC is afab and she/her pronouns are used. Depictions of emotional abuse within an intimate relationship, if this is triggering please do not read.

Themes: angst, emotional abuse within a relationship, drinking, jealousy, fluff at the end. LuciferxMC, DiavoloxMC

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Masterlist

Back at the House of Lamentation...

After you left the house for your date with Diavolo, Lucifer went to his room to sulk. He locked his door, put on a cursed record, and opened a bottle of Demonus, not bothering with a glass, he drank straight from a bottle.

He sat down in a chair in front of the fireplace, and he slid halfway down. He was full of mixed emotions. It absolutely pained Lucifer to see the demon prince sweep you up and whisk you away from him. He knew Diavolo would never hurt you, but it worried him all the same, to not have you here in the house, where he could keep tabs on you. Lucifer was aware you had purposefully kept your distance for a while now, and you made it clear your intimate relationship with him was over. He recalled the last fight you had, replaying it over and over as he drank:

*

"Lucifer! You cannot keep getting upset with me every time Mephistopheles talks to me! We are working on a project together and we have things to do," you said, exasperated at this point.

Lucifer was sitting at his desk, and you stood in front of it. While at RAD earlier that day, Lucifer saw you sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Mephistopheles working on something together in a classroom alone. It took all of Lucifer's power to not run in there and throw Mephisto out the nearest window. He called you into his office as soon as you both got home and began reaming you for it.

"I'd rather see you fail than see you work with that power-hungry, pompous, prick of a demon," Lucifer retorted. He wouldn't even look at you.

"You don't mean that, you're just being jealous. You'd chastise me all the same if I failed anything!" you replied. He remained silent; he didn't need to say that you were correct.

"If this is just a school project, then why is he texting you at eleven o'clock at night? Isn't that a tad late for a project?" he asked, changing the course of the argument.

Something in you snapped. You turned your back to him and fumed. Talking in between your teeth this time, holding on to the final thread of composure you still had, you said, "It's just a project, and if you want to snoop through my texts, fine, have at it. But I will not stand here and be berated by you any longer over something that's not even true." You began to walk toward the office door when Lucifer shot up from his chair to you and grabbed your shoulders.

"Don't touch me!" you yelled as you whirled around, seething. Lucifer's eyes were softening, and you knew exactly what he was about to do. You held firm, your own eyes were ablaze with fury and borderline wrath at this point.

"MC, wait," he started to say. You brought your arms out and broke his grasp on your shoulders, knowing he was about to start the love-bombing to get you back in his clutches.

"No, I will not play this game with you anymore. I'm done," you turned away and started walking. He grabbed at your hand and stood firm, like he dug his heels in, causing you to stop short.

"Lucifer," you warned, turning your head toward him. His gaze was now as hard as your own, seeing as he wasn't getting you to stay. There was an intense moment of silence between you two. It was like a standoff, to see who broke first.

The longer you both stood there, looking into his eyes, you started feeling the tightness in your chest, the exhaustion in your arms, the stress in your back. Tears threatened to form at the corners of your eyes. Part of you wanted to succumb and fall into his embrace like you did so many times before, to feel how he made you feel under his touch, but you had to remain strong this one time to break the cycle.

"I will use the pact if you don't stop," you said in a seething whisper. That was a promise and a threat. You had told Lucifer so many times before that using the pacts to get what you wanted was never something you wanted to do, much less make a habit of it. All the brothers deserved their free will, and they trusted you with such power, you'd hate to break that trust. Such a threat was not to be taken lightly from you.

Lucifer finally let go. His face was painfully neutral, and that frustrated you more. If he could stop the cycle, or at least talk it out instead of resorting to assumptions and accusations followed by makeup sex, then you'd consider staying. But you didn't want to be his little fuck toy anymore.

The tears that threatened your eyes finally spilled, and you ran out of his office as quickly as possible. You ran by all the brothers who heard you yelling at Lucifer, and they looked at each other with concern. Mammon started to get up and check on you, but Asmo blocked his path and shook his head. Asmo knew what had happened, and you needed time to be alone, process your feelings.

*

Lucifer had finished his bottle of Demonus all too soon, and he got up to get another. When he walked by his fireplace to sit back down, he looked at the mantle, seeing the locket you gave him not so long ago. He picked it up and then sat down. Gulping down more Demonus, he opened the locket to see your picture inside. You gave him the locket and told him, "So even when you're busy with RAD and work, you'll be able to see me anytime you want," you chirped.

It was Lucifer's turn to cry. He felt the pressure on his chest as he tried to stifle the sob, but he failed miserably, finally letting the emotions take over. He set the bottle of Demonus down on the side table and just studied the locket. Every day before he left the house, he put that locket in his pocket. He turned it over in his fingers, and on the back a quote was engraved; it said, "For my Lucifer." He turned it over again, running his thumb over your little portrait inside.

He knew he messed up with you, he knew what he did wrong. Lucifer wasn't that blind, nor that stupid. But he couldn't stop the pride he suffered at the hands of, it demanded he remain stubborn and hold himself above everyone else. Lucifer also knew he couldn't be mad that you went on the date. You were technically free to do as you wished, and that last argument was evident enough that you were no longer his.

Deep down, Lucifer knew what a good match you were with Diavolo. When he accompanied you both on outings, he saw how playful you two were, how everything was fun when you two got together. He was also very aware of Diavolo's affections toward you. How Diavolo insisted to extend many invitations to you specifically when he went out, how he talked about you to Lucifer any chance he got. It didn't fly over Lucifer how Diavolo would hug you right in front of him, either.

Lucifer finished another bottle of Demonus, tears staining his cheeks. The emotions he felt were less intense now, as he was numbed by the effects of the drink. The cursed record had stopped long before, and he sat in desolate silence.

He opened his D.D.D. to pass the time until he was ready to sleep, only to wander to Devilgram and immediately see pictures of you and Diavolo. Some gossip monger posted a picture of you two talking at the bar at The Fall, bodies pressed together.

You looked breathtaking, and Diavolo looked at you with such adoration, but Lucifer could see the hints of concern in his eyes. He studied your body language closer, zooming in. It was relaxed and carefree, which was somewhat unlike you. Your head was thrown back as if you were laughing at something he said. You had one leg popped up at the knee, behind you. As bubbly as you were, you always had restraints on yourself when it came to your physical movements. Diavolo was rigid. He was looking down at you with a tense smile, as if he knew he was being watched.

He scrolled and found Diavolo had posted the picture of you two at Ristorante Six. It was just a simple selfie of you two, both looking at the camera. Lucifer sunk lower in his chair, seeing how angelic you looked. In this one, you both looked happy and relaxed. He released a shaky sigh and placed his phone on the side table. He stared into the fire for quite some time, not really thinking about any one thing, and let the hours tick by.

-

Back at the Demon Lord's Castle...

Diavolo finally rolled onto his back after watching you sleep for some time. He thought about the day's events again, he thought about you, he thought about it all. From start to finish, it has been the perfect date, in his mind. He looked over at you once more, wondering if you felt the same.

Just as he was looking at you, you started shifting in your sleep. Diavolo watched as you wriggled around, trying to get comfortable again, and that's when you sent out a hand in search of something. When it landed on Diavolo's stomach, you stopped for a moment, and proceeded to drag yourself to his side. He froze, waiting for you to get comfortable again, and you laid your head on the right side of his chest. You were laying on your left side again, body facing Diavolo, and you kicked your right leg out over his legs. Bent at the elbow, you placed your arm on his torso, your hand landing in the middle of his chest. All while you were still asleep, and you let out a big sigh as if you were content.

Diavolo had the biggest smile on his face. He had imagined you cuddling up to him like this so many times, and it was finally real, in his bed. He slowly and gently wrapped his arm around you, letting his hand rest on your waist. He stared at the ceiling again, soaking in your sweet presence. He wanted this to happen every night for the rest of his days. He enjoyed your warmth that you radiated as you slept. You started to just lightly snore, and it was the most adorable thing to Diavolo. It wasn't long after that, he felt the lull of sleep calling for him, and he kissed the top of your head before laying his head back once more and succumbed to slumber.

Thanks for reading~ <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #obey me headcanons #diavolo x mc #diavolo x reader #lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #obey me fanfic

[whotwentwrong]

Meeting people when my mum is around

My mum:

Me:

#the ageless standoff #bi erasure vs bisexuality #huh what sexuality? #cant you read it? #oh no! #its erased #excuse my sarcasm #im bitter #and #bisexual #whoop whoop #meme #lgbtq

[slaygentford]

shameless written by ME. (monkey posing in little pink headband jpg.)

INT. ball residence - night 

kev: uGH! baby, what’s that noise? 

v: kev... you know it’s just the brothers gallagher enacting genesis on the lawn again. they’re engaged in an ageless mimetic rivalry, fighting over those raven-haired kids down the street. those milkoviches, they’re like mirrors after a death has befallen a house. got black cloth thrown over them, always obscured. but damn if lip and Ian won't kill each other over them anyway, though I don’t think either of them really wants to win. what will happen if one of them does? they just want to be locked like this forever, all four of them. stalemate. but even in a Mexican standoff, eventually someone starts shooting. you ever think, these violent delights......well, they’re going to have violent ends?

(beat.) 

kev: fuckin gallaghers! 

#I win 16 emmys

[thegreenfairy13]

A Tale of Two Fathers (2/2)

A Gobblepot fanfic. You can read the first part here on Ao3.

Oswald opens the door himself. The simple gesture is as much an honor as a threat, and Jim is entirely not ready for what the criminal has in store for him.

By the time they are both seated at the Penguin’s ridiculously large dining table, facing each other from across the room as if they were both still in a standoff when Jim has already lost the battle, the cop is about to pass out from exhaustion.

Curling his lips in frustration, he elicits a little snarl. In return, the Penguin flashes a smile back at him that seems to sum up his entire being. The mayor of Gotham has remained a childlike innocence to his face, a boyish charm that makes the predatory glint in his eyes all the more unsettling. His perfect manners are nothing but a thin veil. If looking only a bit more closely, you’re facing an abyss about to swallow you whole.

Jim always knew Oswald was unhinged - right from their first encounter behind Fish’s club. He’s the kind of man who isn’t merely interested in his opponents, no, he’s obsessed with them. And Jim always knew that a fair amount of that unhealthy obsession had always been directed at him. When he had still been an umbrella boy, nothing but a faceless number in Gotham’s book of the reckless, he had unashamedly stalked him, weaseled his way into his life, and had managed to become a big part of it. It’s the reason Jim had been repulsed when they first crossed paths, and scared.

And now?

Now, he’s no longer scared. Not for himself at least. He’s still terrified though: for his girl, his colleagues, for the citizens of this city. He’s terrified of what the Penguin is capable of, and what he’ll be capable of in the future - and he’s fascinated.

He can’t deny that over the years, Oswald has become more than an occasional ally. Jim would never admit it out loud, but in times of need, it’s the Penguin he turns to first - not the Batman, not Bruce Wayne. And despite everything, he loathes the other man for the cruelty he’s capable of, can’t stop criticizing him any given moment of the day. Sometimes he wonders how he’s still alive. What makes him so special the crowned king of the underbelly doesn’t snuff out his lights?

“You’re very quiet this evening, Commissioner,” the Penguin states. Taking another sip of his excellent wine, he tzk’s condescendingly at his guest. “Even for your standards,” he adds with a fake chuckle.

Jim makes a show of rolling his eyes. He’s ready to drop his head into the scalding hot soup in front of him and take a nap right there.

“It’s funny you noticed,” he replies airily. “I’ve recently come to the conclusion you enjoy talking much more than listening.”

The mobster hisses through his teeth in response. “You haven’t tasted your food,” he notes. “Not to your liking?” he asks sincerely.

Jim stares at his untouched plate and shrugs. The food smells delicious, but after the weeks he had, all he feels is a constant urge to throw up. He’s practically running on scotch and cigars, isn’t even sure when he last ate something that didn’t come from a vending machine.

He tries the soup though and just as expected, his stomach revolts and craves more at the same time.

Briefly, Jim wonders if his invitation might have no ulterior motive. Like him, the gangster must be awfully lonely. He and Edward, or the Riddler, as he loves to call himself, had worked together for an entire decade. Yet at one point, the psychopath had become unpredictable, dangerous even for the ones closest to him. Absorbed in his need to prove his intelligence and superiority, he had forced his dangerous games upon Oswald, too. Infuriated when his lover had finally failed to solve his riddles, riddles that grew erratic and irrational over the years, Oswald had had no other choice but to team up with the cop once more to catch his former husband. At least he’s being excellently cared for - the Penguin’s money and influence made sure Nygma would never see Arkham from the inside again.

“I’d love to talk about the literal elephant in the room,” Oswald announces, effectively startling the cop. Usually, he loves playing with his prey more.

Jim is almost grateful, though. He prefers getting shot at over being slowly sliced into little pieces - and he should know, he experienced both on more than one occasion.

“And here I already thought you enjoy the privilege of my company,” the cop retorts.

“Oh, I do,” Oswald reassures, arching an eyebrow at his counterpart. “But we both know I’m only being granted this privilege whenever our beautiful city is at the brink of destruction.”

“Which is currently not the case.”

“Exactly.” The gangster nods, pleased. “But someone very important to both of us has chosen a quite dangerous path,” he adds, looking Jim directly in the eye. “And I suppose we both have an interest in…”

“Keeping things secret,” Jim finishes. “I take it there’s a price to your discretion?” he asks, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Oswald’s face lights up. “Indeed,” he agrees. “I have to say, I’m truly enjoying our conversation tonight.”

“Seems like you’ve finally found my pressure-point,” Jim grumbles sarcastically.

“Well, James,” the mobster states thoughtfully, “if you know what a man loves, you know how to destroy him.”

“Wonderful,” Jim huffs. “So what’s your price? Shall I resign? Do you want me to confess breaking into your mansion? Both? Do you want me to follow you into your private torture-chamber?”

“My price?” Oswald repeats the word slowly, savors it. He’s a cat playing with a mouse. There’s an unearthly quality to the murderer when he slowly rises from his seat, only illuminated by a few candles decorating their table. He limps over, painfully slowly, yet still way too fast, and with each step, he vanishes in the darkness, only to resurface again. And then this marble, ageless face is then in front of Jim, and those sharp, intelligent eyes judge him.

Oswald’s breath feels cold on his face, and way too fresh. Sharp teeth, like a shark’s, swim into his vision when he speaks, and it takes Jim a moment to catch on.

“I want to have dinner with you.”

Jim blinks. He must have misheard. Oswald tilts his head, a sad look crossing his features before he takes the place next to him.

“I want to have dinner with you,” he repeats. “And I’d like you to enjoy it.”

“What?” Jim blurts out.

Sighing, the thin man rubs his injured leg before folding his fingers beneath his chin.

“Everyone we have known,” he commences, “everyone we have loved is either dead or insane. This city has all swallowed us whole.”

Toying with one of the rings on his fingers, he stares at Jim. “Harvey is long gone, Lee is...well, you know better than anyone else what happened when she injected herself with the Tetch virus again.”

Jim nods slowly in response.

“My Edward doesn’t remember his name, Martin…” Oswald’s voice breaks off. “I don’t forget my debts, ever,” he whispers, looking down at the table, visibly ashamed. “My tongue will remain tied for as long as you don’t use him against me.”

Rubbing his face wearily, Jim barely conceals his incredulousness. “How should I?” he blurts out.

“You know how,” he shoots back sharply. “We both know my boy is…”

“An arsonist,” Jim finishes. “And his daddy is a billionaire and one of the most influential men in this country. Whatever he burns down, you’d buy it and cover it up,” the cop states.

“And if that was a publicly-known fact, I wouldn’t be mayor.”

“I highly doubt that,” the blonde growls. Dropping his face into his hands, Jim starts rubbing his temples. The warmth of the room, Oswald’s intoxicating cologne, his mere proximity, are getting to him. He had been sure this would end in a lengthy negotiation, a power-play, his resignment. He’s almost disappointed. Tomorrow, he’ll still have to carry on, he’ll still have to fight. God, he’s tired.

“I would never expose Martin to the press, and you know that,” Oswald argues.

Jim doesn’t reply. Yes, he might have thought about that possibility before, and discarded it just as quickly. Martin might be a bit insane but he never hurt anyone with his strange ‘hobby’. All he does is burning down abandoned buildings, he even makes sure they are neither inhabited by animals nor humans before setting them on fire. His addiction led to Oswald owning a lot of worthless lands though.

“Barbara,” the raven-haired man presses.

“Don’t,” Jim interrupts, voice hoarse. He’s surprised how he feels a lump in his throat merely at the mention of her name.

“Barbara has become like the rest of us,” Oswald finishes, unfazed.

The cop’s head snaps up. It’s the rage that leads to him being wide-awake once more. “She’s nothing like you or me,” he spits. “She’s…”

“Better? Mor pure? Innocent?” Oswald offers with a light shrug. “She crossed a line the other night,” he points out. “She made the decision to break the law and shoot at my men,” he concedes.

“No,” Jim yelps, horrified.

“I’d never allow for her to get harmed,” he reassures. Taking a deep breath, the mobster leans forward and before Jim has a chance to move, he feels the murderer slightly squeezing his arm. “I remember her playing on this very carpet,” he elaborates, pointing his cane at the floor. “I remember her playing with my dog while I would argue with her mother. You think I didn’t recognize her the moment she crashed through my window?” Oswald snorts. “Do you think I don’t know who’s fault all that is? Br…”

“Bratman,” Jim interrupts him quickly, eyes widening in sudden horror. The criminal laughs out loud.

“That’s an appropriate title,” he snorts. “The little brat boy billionaire. If Martin ever finds a more suitable way to express his hatred towards me, he can join Gotham’s little trust fund-kids club. He’ll fit right in with Bruce and Barbara,” Oswald acknowledges bitterly.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Jim,” he grumbles when glancing over at the detective. “I’ve known that kid for decades. You don’t truly think I wouldn’t recognize him just because he pretends Halloween is every day of the year all of a sudden.”

“Barbara is no criminal, though,” Jim protests, folding his arms across his chest, which causes the Penguin to chuckle.

“Keep telling that yourself,” he almost sing-songs, clearly bemused.

“She’s a good kid,” Jim states stubbornly.

“And an unhinged teenager,” Oswald chides. “I have to admit, I thought you’d teach her better.”

For one insane second, Jim simply wants to strangle Oswald, wants to lunge across the table and throttle him until the life fades from his body. Instead, he breaks down.

“Barbara hates me,” he admits, at last, more to himself than to the Penguin.

Looking up, Jim finds the mobster practically boring his eyes into him. “Quite right,” he agrees. “As she hates her mother, her godfather, her granddad Harvey...She’s a teenager, Jim.”

“It’s more than that!” Jim protests and Oswald laughs.

“She’ll come around. You’re all she has.”

Tha cop snorts self-deprecatingly.

The gangster’s head snaps out. His face is open, vulnerable when addressing Jim once more. “She has no idea how much that’s worth. Calling you your guardian,” he admits, toying forlornly with his empty glass. “A child so much like you, so headstrong, so naive” he muses. “You’ve been honest with her,” he continues as he proceeds to twirl the glass between those elegant fingers. “I wonder how she’ll react should she discover the truth about her new hero.”

Before Oswald has a chance to elaborate, Jim lunges across the table and catches that spider-like hand in a bone-crushing grasp. The Penguin yelps softly, yet doesn’t move.

“Not. A. Single. Word. Else…” Jim leaves the threat hanging, causing the other man to curl his lips in bemusement.

“Else what?” he challenges. “What do you think would happen if your precious baby-girl finds out Gotham’s heroes are all nothing but hypocrites? They are all the same, those men working with the same gangster for the greater good, hmm? The earlier she grows up, the earlier she’ll be able to make up with her dad. And trust me,” he bristles, “she’ll be glad she’s given the chance before her daddy catches a bullet.”

Snarling angrily, Jim slightly pushes the Penguin away. “That a threat?” he asks.

“No, a statement,” Oswald retorts, calmly straightening out his jacket and Jim has had enough. Dropping his spoon, he rises to his feet and turns to leave.

“Sit down,” the Penguin hollers at that, dropping the false politeness immediately. “As you haven’t paid the price, I’m raising my demands.”

Spinning around on his heel, Jim drops his upper body against the table, causing the soup to spill over. “How dare you going up against your own..”

The Penguin halts his tirade with a motion of his hand. “It’s her father I’m stopping from destroying himself completely. You’re but a single man and you can’t continue sneaking out night after night to protect her. The Batman won’t be able to watch her at all times either. What I’m able to offer, though, is true protection. I’ll let it be known that anyone who lays their hands on Batgirl will have to answer me. And in return, you’ll be a good boy.”

Grinning victoriously, he indicates for Jim to sit back down. The other man freezes for a split second. Gritting his teeth, he finally obeys.

“Is that more what you expected from me?” Oswalds asks haughtily. And there is it again, this obsession, this lust for control that repulses and attracts Jim all the same.

Leaning over, the mobster reaches for the cop’s tie, slides a single digit lovingly across the uninspired pattern. “Twenty-one years,” he murmurs, slowly pulling Jim closer. “Twenty-one years and I’ve finally offered you a deal even you can’t reject.”

Swallowing heavily, Jim feels his throat run dry.

“I could control every move you make,” he contemplates. “Every word you say in public, ever.” When he looks up though, he looks nothing but victorious. “I could save this city a hundred more times and everyone you love and you still wouldn’t see anything but a monster, James.”

Not giving him a chance to reply, Oswald rolls the tie around his fist, yanking Jim closer. Dry lips crash against his own and despite himself, Jim closes his eyes, gets lost in the feeling of a wet tongue sliding into his mouth.

He moans into the other mouth, opens up willingly as he gives in all to easily. Tilting his head, Jim pulls Oswald closer until he’s all but sitting on his lap, one hand tangled in that silky hair.

Jim leans back against the chair. Embracing the gangster now fully, he feels the heat emanating the other body, hears each and every little sound the fragile, deadly creature makes as it squirms in his grasp. He remembers all the moments the other man almost died, remembers the moments he stood between the gangster and a loaded gun, willing to die for the other man.

Reluctantly, Jim pulls one hand from Oswald’s hip just so he can feel his beating heart beneath his fingers.

It’s the first time they kiss, and it feels as if they had been doing this for decades.

He doesn’t know who pulls back first, but he knows they both need a breath of air - for they are both so very much alive .

It’s Oswald, always Oswald, who takes the lead - even and especially now when Jim isn’t even sure what he’s doing. He only knows he’s being pulled down dark hallways, pushed against walls every other step just to feel a pair of lips against his own.

He vaguely notes deft fingers tugging at his tie, loosening the knot before pulling it from his form completely. His shirt follows next, almost causing him to trip when it hits the floor the very moment Oswald lures him into another room. His legs hit something soft and he’s barely aware of the fact that they reached the mobster’s bedroom.

Oswald’s weight presses him into the mattress as a delicate hand palms him through his pants and with his last coherent thought, he manages to catch said hand.

“I can’t,” he whispers so softly he isn’t sure he said it out loud. Jim’s head drops against the pillow and it takes him every last ounce of strength not to immediately fall asleep.

Above him, he registers a shocked noise. The hand pulls back, and with it, the consoling warmth of another body. Reaching forward, Jim stops Oswald from fleeing the bedroom.

“Please stay,” he begs and it sounds more like a sob. Please, please stay , he chants over and over in his own head while clinging to the other man. He can’t give Oswald what he wants, not right now, not in this state.

Opening his eyes slowly, Jim finds a confused Penguin staring back at him. His skilled, rosy tongue is caught between his teeth as he examines him with furrowed brows. Jim can’t resist, he pulls him down against his own chest, inhaling the fresh scent of cedar deeply.

This, right here, is the best feeling he’ll ever get. It’s always Oswald who gets to see him at his lowest, in his most vulnerable state without pushing him away but embracing him. Only now, he realizes something very obvious: Oswald loves him. Unconditionally.

“Please don’t leave me,” he repeats, hoping he’ll understand again - and forgive him.

The body above him relaxes ever so slightly as it eases down next to him. Jim closes his eyes again, curls up against the warmth.

“Barbara doesn’t have to know,” Oswald cautiously offers, at last, clearly thinking that’s what is holding back Jim.

Unable to collect his thoughts, he squeezes his old friend reassuringly. “I’ll tell her first thing tomorrow morning her dad and her godfather hooked up,” he murmurs, throwing an arm over his eyes. It’s such a novelty, Jim thinks, to feel finally safe, at home.

“What?” Oswald shifts in his arms, trying to get a better look at him and Jim removes his limb from his face.

“That is, if you want.” It’s his turn to look up at the gangster uncertainly.

Oswald’s face falls at the confession and Jim freezes. Fuck, he obviously got that wrong. Before he can scramble from the bed though, his expression turns into something else. As the words slowly sink in, he seems to be illuminated from the inside. What Jim witnesses can only be described as awe. Oswald stares at him like a kid seeing a Christmas-tree for the very first time and then, his features shift again. Something dark sneaks inside, something utterly possessive, and terrifying.

“You can’t possibly mean that,” he utters.

“I do,” Jim affirms simply, watching in fascination as the expression deepens. Looking at Oswald almost feels like driving through a tunnel, the lights going out one by one. He’s certain should anything ever happen to him or Barbara, he’ll set the city on fire. Oswald would have to promise him to restrain himself, Jim muses.

The Penguin searches his face once more, looks for any trace of insincerity. When he finds none, he settles down next to him.

“Is that wise?” he wonders and Jim knows he already made up his mind when he nestles his head against his chest.

“I won’t live with a lie as huge as this one,” Jim states firmly. In turn, the mobster hugs him tightly. “Oswald,” he says, and the name feels strange on his tongue, intimate. In this context, it breaks down all the remaining walls. “I won’t change though,” he says when he still can’t tell him what he wants to. It’s true nonetheless. Jim will not ever try stopping the Penguin from crossing the line. On some days, he’ll succeed, on others, he won’t.

The mobster laughs softly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you,” he states and Jim is relieved. They’ll be forever who they are. But now, they’ll be it together.

He drifts off to sleep with the scent of cedar and filling his nostrils and wakes to it almost sixteen hours later.

#gobblepot #fanfiction

[yi-dashi-a]

Some Rambling on a ‘No Wuju Cleansing During the War’ Timeline

//Funnily enough, I feel like the nature of Yi’s angst wouldn’t change too much in the end if Wuju was to survive the war intact. Wuju would still exist in occupied lands supposedly, so they would still be suppressed in that way. They wouldn’t have influence anymore but, in accordance with the headcanon, internal volatility of the hierarchy would probably still manage to pull Wuju apart.

Some stipulations just to start with. There would be three major players in Wuju in a post war Ionia: Yi himself, his crippled and deteriorating Father, and his exiled Grandfather who secretly pulls strings to buy for power. Yi’s disciples would presumably all still die during the war, as that is described as happening before the cleansing of Wuju. Some of Grandpapa’s Wuju Swordsmen might be dead, because they ended up joining the war effort, but I’m going to assume that at least one or two survive just because they’re Wuju Masters in their own rights.

And whether or not Yi actively defends his village from the Melters or if they just simply didn’t attack in this AU, I feel it’s safe to assume that Yi would have still ended up back in occupied Shon-Xan. This timeline also assumes that Yi’s Grandfather doesn’t still commit suicide upon seeing the encroaching armies, though in my mind I feel like this would still happen. Perhaps below I’ll discuss both possibilities, but the one where he lives seems much more interesting to me. Already there are a lot of variations. I suppose that’s what happens when you have a lot of headcanons.

Primarily, Yi would take up a roll as a resistance fighter, and I can see him being very loud about it. This in of itself might cause Wuju to get cleansed later on in the timeline, and then Yi would proceed like in canon but a few years later than normal. If the Noxians continue to only take offense with Yi, then I suspect that Yi would end up being captured or killed in some capacity. As strong as he is, he took many of Shon-Xan’s greatest warriors with him to war, and came back alone. Unless he spent the time to quietly open up the Wuju School for free, or soldiers had trained in his absence and didn’t end up going to war, he would go on as a one man army against Noxus. This of course either results in Shon-Xan gaining independence, or Yi being squashed. I feel as if in lands that are firmly occupied, Yi has a lot more of a chance to get squashed and made an example out of.

For the safety of his family he may even go into hiding, and then his lore would continue as it is in canon. Wukong would then be his right hand man in a continued resistance, though again for the safety of his family he might think it better off if Wu and Yi eventually left Shon-Xan to fight the resistance elsewhere. Once again, the canon and headcanon timeline would be preserved somewhat

Some time during Yi’s freedom fighting however, Yi’s mother would still be growing elderly. Her death would be the catalyst that would tear Wuju down from the inside. Silently afraid of her magical powers, Yi’s Grandpapa would take the opportunity to swoop down and try to usurp the position of Head of School from Yi’s Papa, potentially killing the crippled man in the process. Grandpapa then becomes the first Wuju Practitioner to hold the title of Yi Wushi twice in his life.

If Grandpapa is dead however, Yi’s father might petition somehow for Yi to return to the Wuju village in order to complete his training. Yi’s father, existing in pain mostly because of a spinal injury, would do his best to teach Yi in the final Wuju techniques. He would then cease to practice Wuju, thereby ceasing his agelessness, and he might pass on in the years that follow in order to, what he would no doubt say, ‘Ride up North to see my love again...’

But back to Grandpapa being alive. Plenty of things could happen then. He’d most certainly try to gather up his family and try to teach the youngest children, his great, and great-great grandchildren, in Wuju; stealing them from their mothers and indoctrinating them under his near perfected cult like techniques at this point. He’d also petition for another wife, though in this new occupied Shon-Xan it might not be as easy to just pay a dowry. If Noxian law is enacted in the land, he may find it extremely difficult to do things as he once did them centuries ago, possibly resulting in an escalation of his behaviors and him taking a wife by force. And, if the Cabal still wants Wuju gone at this point, he may have to contend with being sniped at distance, though I wouldn’t be surprised if assassination came in other forms.

Noxians might take offense to his proclamations that he owns the land, and he may be slain in a standoff with them. It’s either that or he once again encourages the Noxians to ethnically cleanse Wuju at an even later date, though that’s about as far as I can speculate without branching off too far. Grandpapa would at least expect to outlive the Noxian occupation, so maybe that alone might stay his hand and keep him on the down low until his grandson’s freedom fighting efforts were successful.

That is until news reaches Yi and he finds out that not only his mother has passed on, but that his father was murdered. If he hasn’t been assassinated at this point, or squashed by Noxians as described before, then it’s back to the Wuju Lands for Yi. I don’t know who would win in a fight to the death between Yi and his Grandpapa, though I want to tend to the side of Grandpapa, with his centuries of experience under his belt and his own students. If Yi won though, then once again Yi would almost be in the position that the canon has him in.

He would be Master Yi, but he wouldn’t have been trained to fulfill that roll. No one would be left alive to teach him the remaining techniques or stories he didn’t know, and he’d be left, perhaps still in occupied Shon-Xan, to try and reconstruct Wuju on his own. Of course he would have his aging sisters, their children, and their grandchildren to help him figure it out, but it would be a rough climb for Wuju from there. Once again, there are also assassins to contend with.

Overall, the way I paint Wuju in headcanon is that it was basically destined to fall down in the state that it was in, which is how I rationalize how powerful, ageless swordsmen just kind of rolled over and died during the war. In this version of things however, Yi is just a bit older, more jaded, yet at least somewhat hopeful that he has time to change things in this AU. I’m honestly unsure, however, if this turn of events is actually better for him as a person in the end.

#GOGGLES OFF 『ooc』 #YOU WISH TO LEARN THE HARD WAY I SEE 『Headcanon Essays』 #AU talk #it's all very interesting #more interesting even than the already standing War Vet Comes Home AU where Shon-Xan is defended by Yi #so all he has to really do is deal with normal domestic village life #tw #trigger warning #tw: suicide mention

[mycomicbookplace]

About Ageless #6:

For almost a century, St. John thought his life was over. As it turns out, it was just on hold. When he and his former commander discovers an old friend brutally murdered, they embark on a journey to uncover the truth about the death of their friend, which soon turns out to be a small part of a much bigger game. For St. John and a group of others are immortals and their time to hide away in this modern age of technology may now be running out.

THIS ISSUE: As the security force surrounds Frey, Motonaka and St. John, they finally come face to face with a century-old enemy and a standoff they cannot hope to win. Unbeknownst to Frey and St. John, Motonaka has already set a plan in action, and the scene erupts in flames and violence. In the aftermath, the whole picture is finally revealed and once again a difficult choice has to be made.

Written by: Torunn GrØnbekk Illustrated by: San Espina, Jaime Ospina, Dee Cunniffe Targeted Age Group: Adult

Buy the ebook

#IFTTT #WordPress

[anavoliselenu]

Grounded chapter 7

I sighed. “You don’t understand Selena at all. She would never do that. She’d never work against us. That would be too much like working against me, and she doesn’t have that in her. She is on my side without reserve, and she respects my judgement. If I tell her that I’m with you, that will just be it. She has my back, no exceptions. We’ve been partners through too much bad stuff for it to work any other way.”

“I hope you’re right…,” he said.

I bit the tendon between his neck and shoulder hard enough to make him moan. “What were you saying?” I asked him with a smile.

“I forget,” he breathed.

I got to work peeling off his clothes from behind. My smile grew wicked. “That’s what I thought…”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mr. Perfect

SELENA

Justin rose, striding to the closet. He came back out in a pair of boxers. “Don’t move,” he told me. “I need to get something from the entryway real fast.”

I didn’t say anything, and he looked at me. He pointed, the twist to his mouth almost playful now. “I mean it. Don’t move.” With that, he strode out.

“Crazy bastard,” I muttered loud enough for him to hear, but I didn’t move. I heard him laugh as he walked down the hallway.

I let out my own laugh when he strode back into the room. He had the soft beige scarf from the photo shoot wrapped around his neck. He grinned a wicked kind of grin. I felt myself grow wet just from that look.

He was out of his boxers and back on the bed in a flash of nak*d golden skin. I couldn’t look away.

He straddled me, unwrapping the long scarf from his neck slowly, teasingly. It took forever the thing was so long.

I watched him, captivated. I felt like I was getting an X-rated strip tease from a glorious God. “You’re the most beautiful thing on the planet, Justin,” I told him.

At the bottom of my vision I saw his erection twitch, and he closed his eyes for a long moment. There was no denying that he was susceptible to flattery, but that wasn’t why I’d said it. I’d said it because I couldn’t look directly at the sun and not remark that it was blinding and brilliant.

Once the scarf was free, he covered my eyes with it, wrapping it twice around my head. He raised my arms above my head, stretching them taut, his hard length rubbing along my torso as he did so. His c*ck pushed hard into my sternum as he wrapped the scarf around my arms. I gasped.

He wrapped that soft length from my wrists to my elbows. It was a firm hold but not tight. When that was secure, he wrapped it over my collarbone, lining it even with my underarms. He barely jostled me as he wrapped it around me twice there before moving down to my br**sts and then ribs. He wrapped it around and around with smooth sure motions, somehow managing to get it under my body while barely moving me. He wound it around my waist next, bringing it back up to wrap around both my eyes and arms, binding them together.

He had me well and truly caught when he pulled back, straddling my hips.

He said one word before he set to work on my body with his mouth. “Struggle.”

I tested my restraints rather hesitantly at first, not imagining that the scarf would pose any real challenge. It was so soft, so stretchy, but the man knew what he was doing. Always.

I gasped as he licked a path down my navel to my inner thighs. He sucked at a tender spot while I worked against the scarf, making no progress, just moving the wicked thing against my body deliciously while he did even more delicious things down below. He worked that clever mouth from my groin to that sensitive spot behind my knee and back again. I struggled hard, because it felt good, because I couldn’t believe that the ridiculous scarf could hold me so securely, and because I wanted my hands free to push that teasing mouth where I needed it to be.

I only succeeded in trapping myself more securely, and Justin took his sweet time moving that tongue just where I craved it.

I stopped struggling when he finally buried his face between my legs, thrusting his tongue inside of me before licking up to my clit.

He lifted his head as I stilled. “Keep struggling,” he told me.

I couldn’t see a thing, but I could hear the wicked smile in his voice.

He plunged two hard fingers inside of me, once, twice, and I came on a dime. He was kissing up my body, nudging aside the material where it covered a nipple. He sucked hard on my nipple as he plunged inside of me. I gasped and struggled harder against the soft bindings.

He was dragging his c*ck out of me, hitting every perfect nerve, when he uncovered my eyes. The rest he left imprisoned as he dug his elbows into the mattress on the sides of my br**sts and drove into me again and again. His eyes showed me that the tender-lover was driving for this ride, though the warm smile in his voice as he tormented me had given me fair warning.

“Say it, Selena,” he said, his voice more tender than demanding. Still, I knew it was an order.

“I’m yours, Justin,” I told him softly.

His eyelids fluttered briefly as he started to come inside of me. He bottomed out in me with the sexiest little moan, and I came.

“Cashmere f**king,” he told me with a smile as we caught our breath.

I laughed. “So that’s what that was called. Good to know.”

He unwrapped me from the long scarf slowly, rubbing it along my body as he did so. I rubbed against him, always craving his touch, even as my eyes drifted closed and I fell into a hard sleep.

I had the dream again and woke up scrambling out of bed in the dark, disoriented and scared. Hard familiar arms caught me almost immediately, lifting me from behind, and carrying me into the bathroom. I had to shut my eyes tight as light flooded the room.

We were already nak*d so he just stepped into the tub, never letting me go as he turned on the water and leaned back against the edge of the huge tub. I turned into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clinging as hard as I could. Soothing arms stroked my back, washing and comforting, soft whispers telling me everything would be fine.

“I can’t stand it. I know it’s a dream, but it feels so real,” I whispered. I didn’t break down, didn’t cry this time, though the dream had shaken me as badly as before. More so.

“Shhh, Love. Just breathe. The memories will fade. Nightmare memories always do.”

He said it like someone well acquainted with nightmares. I wasn’t surprised.

I lifted my head to look at him. He stroked my hair, meeting my eyes squarely. He could communicate so much to me with just those exquisite, tarnished eyes of his.

I swallowed hard. Residual fear from the dream still haunted me. The thought of losing him made me desperate and empty and filled me with despair darker than anything I’d ever known, and I was hardly a stranger to dark thoughts.

I pulled back enough to move up his body, straddling his h*ps in the rising water. I traced a finger over that smooth brow, the hollow in his cheek, that perfectly straight nose, those pretty lips, and then across that hard jaw.

I cupped his face in my hands, watching him steadily. He pressed his own hands over mine, giving me such a loving look that I melted.

“The thought of losing you makes me desperate,” I said, shifting our faces closer. My eyes were steady on his when I took the leap. “I love you, Justin,” I said, my voice just a whisper. “So much.”

His eyes closed for just an instant, and he took a deep breath. When he opened them again there was such a raw relief there that it made me shake.

“Thank you,” he said roughly. “I’ve been waiting for that, and wanting that, for so long.”

He stroked his hands over my hair, watching me, his eyes going to that soft loving place that I’d come to crave and depend on so quickly.

He was silent for so long, just watching me and touching me, that I lost our silent standoff.

“Do you…love me?” I asked him, my chest hurting.

“That’s a silly question,” he said, stroking my cheek. “An unnecessary question. I’ve never made a secret of my feelings, Selena. I know you’re a skeptic, but you must have realized that I fell for you right away.”

I leaned my cheek into his hand. “Why haven’t you ever said the words, then?”

He bit his lip.

I watched that vulnerable action with rapt attention.

“I wanted you to say it first. Not for pride, and not for my ego, but for my heart. I haven’t said those words to anyone since my parents died, and I didn’t want the first time to be met with a rejection. I was afraid you would get spooked and run again. I preferred to give you time rather than break my own heart. Can you understand that?”

I nodded, feeling crushed under the weight of my own skepticism. I hated what my baggage had done to him, what it might do in the future, all of the pain it had caused him, because there was no cure-all for my issues. One big one was rearing its ugly head even as I had the thought.

“But why?” I asked him, my voice much smaller than I liked it to be. “That’s what I don’t understand.

His brows shot up, and he gave me a genuinely baffled look. “Why?”

“Why do you love me?”

His eyes got so soft, changed in an instant from confused and into that impossibly tender look that got me every time. “You want me to break it down for you?” he asked succinctly.

I nodded.

He traced a finger across my brow. “I can do that. I’d enjoy that actually. You’re my favorite subject, Love. I’ll start with your eyes. I fell in love with those first. One look was like a punch to the gut. You have these ageless eyes on such a young face. I just knew that you had seen bad things, lived bad things, and from the start, I knew that you could understand pain. Understand loneliness and despair. Understand feeling hopeless and helpless and alone. I fell in love with your eyes first because I looked into their depths and saw the other half of my soul.”

That got to me, and my eyes filled with those humiliating tears that I couldn’t seem to avoid lately.

He traced a tear down my face, giving me his fondest smile. “I freely admit that was enough to catch me, and you’re going to tell me I’m crazy, but I’ve been around the block too many times to count, and I was experienced enough to know, right from that first meeting, that I was falling for you. I didn’t understand it until after our first time together, wouldn’t have given it that name, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was lost from then on. But let’s get back to my favorite subject.”

He reached across the tub, turning the water off. He plunged that hand back into my hair to cup the back of my head.

“Next, I fell for that hard-won composure of yours, that steely self-control. When I got you to smile at me, or even to acknowledge my presence, it felt like an accomplishment. I’ve never needed the chase, never wanted it, really, but I relished it with you, even knowing that it was trouble for me, that you were trouble.”

“Next, hmm, let’s see, that’s harder to pin down, because that was a lot of things at once. I’ll lump it all together and say that I fell for your reaction to me next. Your submission. I’ve never felt anything like this kind of chemistry before. The way you trembled at my touch, that innocent response that you couldn’t hide, and that I couldn’t doubt. And then we made love. After that, I couldn’t call what I felt for you anything but love, not to myself, even knowing that you didn’t feel the same, at least not like I did—not yet.”

There was such an adoring sort of understanding in his eyes that I felt something raw heal inside of me. Yes, my natural skepticism had hurt him, but at least he seemed to get why I was this way. He seemed to get me.

He wasn’t done.

“And then there were your paintings. Those dreams in your eyes. The world cannot have been a beautiful place for you, but it becomes so beautiful through those paintings of yours. You put your soul into those paintings, and nothing in this world is more beautiful to me than that soul of yours.”

I had always been uncomfortable with praise, any kind of praise, and his outpouring was in a league of its own, as far as compliments that moved me went. I felt so overwhelmed that it was hard to keep looking directly at him, deep into those tarnished turquoise depths, but I managed it through sheer force of will, my whole body trembling with the effort.

He continued relentlessly. “And then there’s the fact that you’re stunningly beautiful, and you couldn’t care less about it. Your beauty devastates me, Selena, yet you put less value on that beauty than any woman I’ve ever met. Even if you realized just how stunning you are, which I know you don’t, it wouldn’t matter to you, wouldn’t make any difference at all, and I find that so charming about you.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’ve made a muddle of it all,” he continued. “Like all I do is screw up, but I swear to you that I’m trying my best. I’m only terrible at this relationship thing because I’ve never done it before, but I promise I’ll keep working until I get it right. I’m nothing if not determined.”

The thought floored me. I spoke without thinking. “Now that’s a depressing thought, Justin, because if you’re terrible at this, there isn’t even a word to describe how much I suck at it.”

He threw back his head and laughed, and my mouth moved into a smile automatically. He brought his laughing lips close to mine. “Not true, Love. You’re doing perfect, as far as I’m concerned.”

His mouth was a whisper away from mine when I spoke. “You haven’t made a muddle of it, Justin. You couldn’t be terrible at anything, even if you tried. I think you’re perfect.”

He kissed me, a kiss that started out soft but as always our unquenchable hunger for each other quickly took it further. He was gripping my hair and plundering my mouth within hot, drugging moments. I rubbed my wet chest against his.

We made love slowly, leisurely, lovingly. I lay my cheek against his wet chest when we finished, kissing my crimson name on his pounding heart.

He stroked my hair for long minutes, still buried inside of me. He seemed in no hurry to pull out.

“I love you, Selena,” he said very quietly. “There isn’t a thing about you that I don’t adore. Even the things that have made it hard for you to let me in hold a special place in my heart. I never thought I’d meet a woman that I couldn’t doubt, a person that I could so easily give my trust to, but I know your soul, and it is so pure and clear to me that I feel like I can see right into it.”

I didn’t know how he could say that. I felt so cynical sometimes. But I soaked up his words, loving the way they made me feel. I didn’t have to agree with the words to be touched by them.

“I love you,” I told him simply.

We were silent for long minutes, communicating only through stroking touches and soft kisses. Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled slowly out of me, pulling me flush against him right away.

“Can I tell you about my parents?” he asked finally.

“Of course,” I said quickly, surprised that he thought he had to ask. “I would love to hear about them. I love to learn about you.”

“You would have liked my mother. She was so passionate, so opinionated, but also kind. She didn’t come from my father’s world, but she didn’t put up with any of the nonsense that the high society set tried to throw her way. She hated luncheons and teas, hell, she hated all of the insufferable social functions that weren’t directly helping a charity, and the term ‘socialite’ made her see red.”

His words brought me a staggering sense of relief. If he had expected me to do what Jackie suggested and devote my life to a pointless string of unenjoyable social functions just for the sake of keeping up appearances, I would have been troubled, because that just wasn’t for me.

“She kept a few close friends very close, and devoted her time to her family and to her charities. She was so beautiful.”

He paused, stroking my cheek.

“My father was a reserved man, but he was loving. I do remember that. He worked a lot, but when he didn’t, he devoted his time to my mother and me. He worshipped the ground she walked on.” He stroked my hair when he said it, his eyes loving.

“They had a good marriage. I was young, but even I could see how devoted they were to each other. They would share these looks… Even as I child I knew that they had something special.”

“As I got older, long after they’d passed, I didn’t imagine I could ever find something similar for myself, that I could ever feel something like what they had. I honestly didn’t think I was capable of it…Until I met you, I didn’t know I had those kinds of feelings inside of me. Now I see clearly that with the right person, it’s so simple. Those feelings aren’t something one can force, and they aren’t something I could deny once I felt them. It still just floors me that I felt them so fast and so deep with you.”

“My father liked to claim that he fell in love with my mother at first sight. Even back then, I thought he was just waxing poetic, but I believe him now. I did exactly the same thing.”

I looked up at him. “You’re insane,” I told him. The idea of love at first sight was just so far-fetched, especially since it was me he was talking about. “But undeniably, terribly romantic,” I allowed.

He just smiled. “I know. But I’m honest, and that’s just how it was for me.”

I rubbed my cheek against his chest, feeling like this was all a dream. He was just too perfect to be real.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Mr. Dubious

We slept in late the next morning. I was pleasantly surprised that Justin had taken the morning off so we could spend the morning together before I had to fly out. I would only be gone for the day, arriving back in New York early in the morning the next day, but it still felt like such a treat to get more time with him.

We lingered in bed, which was hardly surprising, since I woke up as he was pushing himself inside of me. He must have been at it for a while because I was wet enough that my body accepted him easily. He held my legs so far apart that the stretch bordered on painful, and pounded into me mercilessly, his eyes snapping at me all the while.

“Say it, Selena,” he said roughly.

I wasn’t actually sure which ‘it’ he meant, after our confessions from the night before, so I went with my instincts. He was f**king me like he wanted to own me, so I said what came to mind. “I’m yours, Mr. Cavendish. Only yours.”

I found out that my instincts were right on as he came inside of me, shouting my name roughly.

I was right there with him, watching him with fascination and love as my body clenched deliciously around him in a perfect orgasm.

He was tender afterwards, but it was a possessive sort of tender. We showered, and he took over completely, washing my body and hair, as was his custom. I was beyond questioning it. Letting him care for me like that fulfilled a need in both of us, and now I only cherished it, as he cherished me.

He dressed me, placing soft kisses all over my body right before he covered each spot with clothes. I ran hungry hands through his wet hair as he tended to me. He dressed me in a dark T-shirt and boxers, because I would have to get dressed again in work clothes in just a few hours.

We went downstairs for breakfast. It would have been tempting to have breakfast in bed that morning, but I was dying to see Stephan. I needed to make sure he was okay, so we headed to the dining room to eat. Justin didn’t even ask me. He seemed to always understand how Stephan and I worked. I didn’t know if he was just that observant, or if Stephan had explained it to him in even more detail than what I’d imparted. The how didn’t matter, though, because it was only his understanding that was crucial.

I felt my whole body get a little limp with relief when I heard laughter coming from the dining room as we approached. I recognized Javier’s laugh first, and the one that joined it was one that was more familiar to me than my own laugh. And more welcome.

I smiled at the sound, my step quickening to reach them. Justin was a silent presence at my back.

Stephan stood when he saw me, grinning ear to ear.

He was across the room and enfolding me into his arms in a flash. I burrowed into that familiar chest.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

He squeezed me. “I’m great.”

“I take it you guys worked it out,” I said wryly.

“We did.” No hesitation.

I nodded against him and after a moment, he let me go to get back to his breakfast.

I didn’t need to know any more than that. He’d made up his mind, and I could only hope that Javier, who was giving me very cautious glances, wouldn’t hurt him again.

Justin pulled my chair out for me, acting the gentleman. “Egg white omelet okay with you?” he asked me, heading into the kitchen.

I nodded, wondering what about me had attracted what seemed to be the last two gentlemen left on the planet.

I noticed that Stephan and Javier were eating crepes covered in syrup, whipped cream, and chocolate chips. I was surprised that Justin even kept the ingredients for that in his house.

Justin returned quickly, carrying a very English tea service. He served us all tea, acting the epitome of the well-mannered English host. I told him so.

He smiled. “I get it from my father. English from head to toe. Every cup of English tea that I drink makes me think of him.”

I thought that was a sweet thing for him to share and I gave him a sweet smile.

He winked at me.

I was startled at the response it caused in me. It was a pretty innocent gesture, considering the things he said and did to me on a daily basis, but it still had me turned on in a heartbeat. The man was hot.

We were almost through with our breakfast when I noticed Justin checking his phone, his expression growing carefully blank from one second to the next.

“Excuse me,” he said curtly.

He rose from the table and strode from the room.

I hadn’t realized how polite he usually was about taking calls during our time together simply because he didn’t do it. Which made me even more curious about what had gotten his attention, and what had put that look on his face. I was on instant alert.

A rare streak of uncontrollable curiosity had me following him within seconds. I wanted to see what had troubled him so badly with just a few words.

I caught him with his back to me in one of the sitting rooms. The door wasn’t completely closed, but he was speaking very quietly into the phone.

“Then offer them more. I mean it when I say I don’t have a limit to what I will pay to keep this from getting out.” He paused. “I don’t give a f**k if it’s a smart business decision, Roger. This isn’t about business. This is about keeping my life intact, the way I need for it to be, and I don’t give a f**k if it takes my fortune to accomplish that. Do you understand?” Another long pause. “I am not a fourteen-year-old that you are managing, Roger. I don’t need time to think. I need you to do what I’m asking you to. Take care of this.”

Fear froze me in my tracks, and I stood in the doorway, listening. His tone was so panicked, so desperate. I did not want to know what had put that fear in him.

I didn’t move from the doorway as he ended the call and turned. I had been eavesdropping on him, and I’d just as soon have him know it. Perhaps he would tell me what had happened, and it wouldn’t be as bad as the dread coursing through me was telling me it was.

He flinched when he saw me standing there, and that was so not good for my peace of mind. We suffered through a very long, awkward silence while he rubbed his temples and I watched him.

“Everything okay?” I finally asked him.

He grimaced. “It will be,” he said. That was all.

“Who is Roger?” I asked. Being with Justin seemed to have added nosy quite firmly to my list of character flaws.

“An old family friend. A sort of mentor to me. And my lawyer.”

I thought that sounded ominous, but he didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask him to. If he didn’t want to share, I couldn’t make him.

He moved to me finally. He ran a hand over my hair, grabbing it firmly at my nape. He used it like a handle to tilt my face up to him. There was trouble in his eyes. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

I studied him, beyond confused. “About what?”

His jaw clenched and he watched me for a long time. “About loving me. I know you were tired and scared from the nightm—“

I couldn’t take it. I interrupted him rudely. “Of course I did! I wouldn’t say something like that just because I was tired.”

“Say it again,” he ordered roughly.

“I love you. Of course I do. You shouldn’t doubt me. I wouldn’t say it unless I meant it.”

“How conditional is that love? How much are you willing to withstand just to stay with me?”

I was starting to get angry. “I don’t like the question. Love in a monogamous relationship has to have some conditions, Justin. If you were unfaithful—“

“I’m not talking about that. I’d never do that. Does your love have other conditions?”

I glared at him, but I shook my head, finding the answer way too quickly. “I don’t think that it does, Justin. But again, I don’t like the question. Do you want to tell me why you’re asking it?”

He was gripping my hair to the point of pain now. “I’m asking it because every time I think that we’re on our way to building a future together, something from the past gets in the way, and I need to know that won’t happen to us again.”

I thought he was being deliberately vague, but I let it go. I was in no mood to open Pandora’s Box. “The past can only hurt us if we let it, if it really is the past that we’re talking about.”

He studied me, then kissed me roughly. He brought his mouth to my ear. “I want to tie you to my bed. Now. I want to keep you there.”

My brain short-circuited for an instant, going to that sublime place that only Justin could take me to. “I need to leave for the airport soon.”

“I know. That’s why I want to do it. So you can’t leave.”

I tried to meet his eyes to give him an exasperated look, but he was kissing me, invading my mouth until I forgot why what he’d said was so outrageous.

He pulled back only when he’d left me breathless and wanting.

“Have you given any thought to your painting career?” he demanded. “When would you like to start planning your first showing?”

I had, in fact, been thinking about it. It was a persistent sort of distraction in my brain. Especially when I considered that Justin currently paid much more to have me followed and protected on flights than I was actually earning on those flights. It seemed so wasteful and senseless.

“I have,” I admitted.

His jaw clenched when I didn’t elaborate. “And what are your thoughts?”

I gave him my little shrug. “I’m mulling it over.”

He gave me a rather pained smile. “Well, you let me know when you’re done mulling,” he bit out. “I would love to know your thoughts on the matter.”

He was obviously upset, but he dropped it after that.

We made our way upstairs. I put on my uniform while he put on his ungodly expensive suit. He was ready first, taking another mysterious phone call. He strode from the room, phone to his ear, while I put on a bit of makeup.

He was quiet and a little distant on the drive to the airport. He kept me close, a hand in my hair and the other on my knee. The distance was all in his eyes and his expression, which had been very carefully blank since that second phone call.

He only came to life briefly when we reached the airport and it was time to say goodbye. He let the guys file out before crushing his mouth against mine, his kiss was hungry and desperate.

We were both breathless and agitated when he pulled back.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

He nodded, but that trouble hadn’t left his eyes.

“Bye,” I told him.

He got out first to hand me out. “I love you, Selena,” he said.

I nodded. “I love you too, Justin,” I said steadily. I didn’t even feel the need to panic or withdraw at the words. They already came easily to my lips. I had it so bad.

Stephan, Javier and I were lucky to get a row of seats together for the flight, since we were flying space available. We all tried to sleep since we’d be working well into the next morning, but I didn’t think any of us got more than a one-hour nap on the four and a half hour flight.

I woke up from my nap as the plane began to descend for landing, the feeling familiar enough to act like an alarm on my body. My head was pillowed against Stephan’s shoulder. I rubbed my cheek against that supple muscle before pulling back to look at him. His arms were crossed over his chest, making his muscles bulge attractively. He was smiling and awake. He looked as happy as I’d ever seen him. It was a good sight for my heart, especially after all of the drama from the night before.

I saw that Javier was still passed out; his head pillowed onto Stephan’s other shoulder.

“Morning, Buttercup,” Stephan said softly.

“Just sitting here smiling while we sleep on you?” I asked him with a smile.

He just flashed a dimple at me, nodding. “Sandwiched by my two favorite people in the world. What’s not to smile about?”

I had to laugh. “So what happened last night?” I asked him. I didn’t want to ruin the mood, but I needed to know. That had been a lot of drama to be squashed so easily.

“Javier said he loves me,” he said with a very soft smile.

I was relieved and confused all at once. “What about before that?”

He grimaced and told me briefly about Vance and the way he’d bullied Javier.

I gripped his hand when he finished. I wasn’t sure what to think about all of it. Javier did have a reputation for loving drama, but on the other hand, I’d met Vance, and that one lived and breathed the stuff. I did know one thing, though. Stephan believed Javier with a certainty, and he would feel horrible for not defending the other man—instead walking away when he was being harassed.

“If that was what really happened, you couldn’t have known.”

He gave me a stern look. “You don’t believe that’s what happened?”

I gave him my little shrug. “You know I’m more cynical than you. I don’t know what to believe, but of course, I have my doubts. That doesn’t matter, though. If you’re together, I support that, because it’s what you want.”

He gave me a sad smile. “You shouldn’t be so cynical. I have no doubts about Javier, Selena.”

I nodded, watching him carefully. “I know. And like I said, that’s enough for me.”

“When are you going to learn that I’m not the only trustworthy person in the world?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. At least, not one that he wanted to hear. Nothing but time and consistency would make me trust Javier with Stephan’s heart, and the drama of the night before had done nothing but set that time further back, whatever his story was.

“You don’t think he’s good enough for me,” he said, clear reproof in his voice.

I had to smile at that. “I don’t think anyone is good enough for you, myself included.”

He just shook his head.

We’d been over this, and neither of us ever budged.

“I told Justin that I love him,” I told him quietly.

I heard the familiar sound of the wheels coming down from the plane. I was surprised that Javier was still sleeping peacefully.

Stephan beamed at me. “That’s wonderful. Your therapist would be proud.”

I laughed, hardly offended, since he only spoke the truth.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what he said?” I asked him.

He shook his head without hesitation. “He’s been head over heels from the start, Buttercup. I had no doubts. That man worships the ground you walk on.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mr. Callous

We had almost no downtime once we got to Las Vegas. Javier and Stephan said a quick and circumspect goodbye, though I could practically see the heat snapping between them.

We shuttled to our airline’s headquarters, checked in, and prepped for our flight, though that entire process was hardly uneventful.

All of the other crews that we greeted were abuzz with the recent announcement that our airline had filed for Chapter eleven bankruptcy. We were still in business for the moment, but speculation as to what that meant for us was running rampant.

I was mostly in shock about the whole thing. Stephan and I shared a very long look that meant we would talk about it later. The shuttle we took back to the airport was so loud with everyone voicing opinions and fears that we couldn’t have heard each other over the noise if we’d tried.

I texted Justin.

Selena: Did you hear the news about the airline?

Justin: Yes. Can you talk on the phone right now?

Selena: It’s too loud on the bus. I’ll call you from the plane.

I had a few brief minutes to call him once we got on the plane, between prep time and boarding.

He was very much Mr. Cavendish when he answered the phone. “Hello, Selena.”

“Hello, Mr. Cavendish,” I said, because I knew who I was talking to. “What do you think of all this bankruptcy stuff? I don’t know what any of it means. It sounds really bad, but people are saying that we could still stay in business.”

I heard his audible sigh over the line. It didn’t bode well. “If you want my candid professional opinion on the matter, what it means is that the airline will stay in business for around a year before its fleet of aircrafts will be grounded for good. Your CEO has exhausted literally every avenue of funding at his disposal, gone to every connection, large and small, that he has. He refuses to give up control of the airline, and he’s never run one successfully, though he has tried several times. He approached me about funding, which is actually why I was on the flight where I met you, but I had to decline based solely on the fact that it would have been a disastrous business decision for me. He was not willing to make any leadership concessions, and I wasn’t willing to throw a hundred mil away on a man with a clear history of failure.”