#and I just got paid on Friday so I still have to make it another week and a half

[max--phillips]

I hate being an adult ❤️

[i-am-become-a-name]

What's your interpretation of the weird/annoyed look Five gets on his face when Tegan announces that she wants to rejoin the TARDIS at the end of Arc of Infinity? I know it was probably meant to be played for laughs, but it annoys me every time i watch that episode and i'm curious what headcanons people have about it.

My favourite thing I've read about it pointed out that the cybermen specifically used Tegan as a weakness against five, that she's what it took to manipulate him (and through no fault of either of them, Adric's death was part of those consequences.) The novelisation really goes in to the descriptions of the doctor transfixed with the blood running down Tegan's chin from her bitten lip, the building tension as the cybermen get closer and closer to killing her and he's shaking trying to hold himself back from admitting his hearts are so easy to twist, just by threatening his friends. (Does Nyssa ever leave the TARDIS when it's on the spaceship? The cybermen don't even know she exists til they come onboard do they?)

As for why he looks so annoyed? hmmm. Does anyone want someone around that constantly needles them? Really, I think pre Arc of Infinity that even though Tegan had chosen to stay, they still had that power imbalance or even just tension between them that she had not come on board willingly. So five is expecting that to be the continuing, I don't know, continuing manner between them and it hadn't been good. It had its moments (mainly in the audios) but as an arrangement it was not ideal as friends to explore the universe together, all that terrible beauty and awesome monsters.

But it doesn't continue on in that manner - oh they bicker and make faces at each other, sure, but Tegan's conscious decision to step back onto the TARDIS irons out those imbalances, removes that bitterness and the past of her aunt's death. So when he makes that wee face, it's in expectation of the previous status quo. And never let it be said that Tegan's one to do exactly what's expected of her.

Anyway I really hope this makes sense and I may add some more thoughts later but it's 1:50 am Christmas Eve and I couldn't sleep for thinking about this.

----

It's 2am I'm back. I feel like there's also this uneasiness in five about tegan, that mirror that no one likes being held up to themselves. Their similarities but the starkly different ways they express them must be exhausting to five. and here she is back again. To push and prod and challenge and be brashly beautifully glorious. wait. that last bit was the two am shipper coming out. Anyway they draw strength and resolve and anger from each other and Tegan was vital to five, from his first moments till his very last.

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[captainsophiestark]

Picture Perfect

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict's childhood best friend, who he's recently started courting, notices he's been a bit off lately and decides to see if there's anything she can do to help.

Word Count: 3,045

Category: Fluff, a little bit of Angst

A/N: It's been a minute since I rewatched season 2, so I may have the timing wrong a bit. For the purposes of this fic, though, Benedict finds out that Anthony paid to make sure he got into art school at the same time that they're all at the Bridgerton's country estate.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Something was wrong with my best friend.

I could tell from the minute I saw him, as his mind was clearly somewhere else. He also gave his brother Anthony a colder shoulder than usual, which I knew Anthony likely deserved, but that Benedict rarely gave him. It must've been something pretty bad.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to drag Benedict somewhere and get some answers out of him, followed by doing whatever I could to cheer him up. But unfortunately for the both of us, despite having grown up together, now that we were both adults in society and he had recently started courting me, we were no longer technically allowed to be alone together. Things were usually a bit looser when it was just the Bridgertons and I, but while I'd joined them for a trip to their country estate, another family had joined us as well, tying my hands more than usual.

Still, I managed to corner him slightly away from the rest of the group after dinner that night, when I'd first noticed something off. He'd been on his way upstairs, rather than joining the rest of us in the parlor after dinner, and I managed to get in front of him quickly enough to make him stop in the hallway.

"Benedict," I said, trying to keep my voice low. He let out a long, deep sigh, but didn't move to step past me, instead fixing me with a tired stare. I frowned. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "It's... nothing."

I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow.

"Benedict Bridgerton, I have known you since the age of five. There is no chance of that terrible lie convincing me of anything, besides perhaps that I made the right decision about checking on you."

He sighed again, this time even heavier, and when he met my gaze again it was with an empty smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"You remeber I shared my excitement with you about being accepted into art school?"

"Of course! Don't tell me something went wrong..."

He shook his head. "The opposite. Apparently my dear brother took it upon himself to make sure I got in, offering a bribe to secure my acceptance. Yet again, I fail to step out of my family's shadow and generate an accomplishment of my own, without their name and money securing it for me."

I frowned and reached out to touch his arm, but Eloise's voice from the other room promising to find where I'd wandered off to broke the moment. Benedict mustered that hollow smile again, then finally stepped around me.

"I'll be fine, I promise. Don't worry about me. Just go enjoy the rest of your evening."

I frowned after him, but he didn't look back as he climbed the stairs and disappeared onto the second floor. I briefly debated following him, but Eloise's hand on my elbow broke me from that thought.

"Y/N, what on earth are you doing out here? You're missing Kate and Anthony sparring over something trivial again."

I forced a smile onto my face that was hopefully more convincing than Benedict's and turned to face Eloise.

"Well, that's certainly something I don't want to miss. Let's go."

Eloise still looked like she had questions, but I didn't give her room to ask them as I joined the rest of our group in the parlor. Benedict stayed on my mind for the rest of the night, although I tried to hide my worry. Hopefully he'd been right about himself, and would be feeling better in the morning.

*****************

Benedict clearly wasn't feeling better in the morning. I was witnessing the man I loved having an existential crisis, and by the afternoon, I decided I couldn't sit by an watch anymore, society and the Ton and the gossips be damned.

I spent the next hour gathering and setting up the things I'd need, then went to find Benedict. He wasn't anywhere to be seen in the house, so I asked Eloise, who directed me to his bedroom.

I'd been in his bedroom before, of course, since we'd practically grown up together. But now that we'd started on the path to being something else to each other, with my heart registsering significantly more romantic feelings for the man Benedict had become, I found myself slightly nerovous as I stood outside his door. Still, I forced myself to ignore the nerves as best I could. Benedict was hurting, so everything else had to be put on hold while I helped him.

I knocked on his door, pretending my faster-than-normal heartbeat didn't exist as I waited for a response. That became much harder to accomplish when Benedict opened the door, his shirt far more open than normal and without anything over it, hair looking a rumpled mess. My heart did backflips, despite me mentally telling it to calm down.

"Y/N! I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you. I must look a mess-"

"No, not at all!" I said much too quickly. "You look, uh... very nice."

The familiar lopsided smile I loved so much appeared on Benedict's face as he leaned on the doorframe before me. He raised an eyebrow, the familiar spark of mischief that I loved so dearly igniting in his eyes, and for the first time in more than a day, he looked to be slightly back to himself.

"Well, I'm very glad to hear you think so. What brings you to my door, then?"

"You haven't seemed to be doing very well since you got the news about Anthony. And don't try to deny it, I know you too well. So, I thought I'd come find you and try to help cheer you up."

Benedict's eyebrow rose again as he crossed his arms.

"And what exactly did you have in mind?"

"I'll show you. But we're going to have to be a bit sneaky about leaving."

Benedict's mood lifted the moment he found out we were going to sneak out of the house together. We'd been regular trouble makers as children, sneaking out for adventures at least once a week, but since we'd both grown up that had basically come to a stop. Now, as I took his hand and dragged him along behind me and we ran through the countryside and left Bridgerton House in our wake, I couldn't stop a wild laugh from bubbling out of my chest. I'd missed this much more than I'd wanted to admit.

"Where are we going?" Benedict called, his own voice breathy and laced with laughter as we ran. I just shot him a grin back over my shoulder.

"You'll see!"

He huffed, but didn't protest as he followed after me. Finally, after winding through the woods and climbing a rather steep hill, we reached the spot I'd spent so long making nice this morning.

This hilltop looked out over the countryside stretching beautifully below us, even better now as the sun had started to get a bit lower in the sky. Waiting for us was a picnic blanket spread out in the grass with all of our favorite foods, wine, and an easel with art supplies set up right next to it. I dropped Benedict's hand as we came to a stop, instead turning to face him with a grin.

"Well? What do you think?"

He stared at everything I'd laid out, mouth open slightly in shock. His brow furrowed when he saw the canvas, and he turned back to me.

"What is all this?"

"It's a picnic, for the two of us," I said. "To watch the scenery and the sunset together without the pressures of society or being a Bridgerton to bring us down. The easel is optional–we can pack it away right now if you want to. But you told me you think Anthony's the reason you got into art school, and I don't agree. I've seen your work, and I know just how good it is. You got in on merit, Benedict. But I know I can't just say that and have you believe it, so I brought some supplies here so you can prove it, if you want to. Paint this moment for the two of us, and I'll swear on our relationship and everything I hold dear to be honest about what I think. Completely, totally, brutally honest."

Benedict's eyebrow quirked again.

"Well, I don't know if brutal is completely necessary..."

"I mean it, Ben. I hate to see you like this, doubting yourself. So if there's something I can do to counter Anthony's idiotic meddling, I'd like to."

"And what if..." He cleared his throat, emotion swirling in his gorgeous brown eyes as he met my gaze. "What if the truth would only serve to enforce what I know? That Anthony's meddling and money is the only reason I've gotten where I am."

I shook my head. "That won't happen-"

"Y/N." I stopped, biting my lip and forcing myself to meet Ben's stare again. He took a few steps forward until we were right in front of each other, then took my hands gently in his own. "What if it does?"

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "Then I will keep my word and tell you so. One way or another, I will tell you the truth, even if it may not be what I want to tell you. I swear it, Ben."

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning my face. We stayed like that for a few long moments, and briefly, I thought Benedict might make a move to do something I never though he'd do with the Ton hovering over both our shoulders whenever we were together. But then he sighed, a smile returning to his face as he stepped away.

"Alright then. I believe you, and I value your opinion. And since you went to all the trouble to drag these supplies up here in the first place... I may as well get started."

I beamed at him. "I'll pour us some wine."

"Please."

When Benedict first sat down at his canvas, he kept fidgeting nervously, his hands hovering and twitching over various paints and brushes as he second-guessed his decisions. But slowly, as I kept up a stream of conversataion, supplying him with food and drink for fuel as he needed it, I noticed him beginning to relax.

"This is nice," I mused, leaning back on the picnic blanket and looking out at the scenery as Benedict worked. The sun had gotten much lower in the sky than when we'd left, which Benedict had grumbled about as it impacted his painting. Still, the golden light, soft breeze, and warm, fresh air felt like heaven to me.

"I agree," he said, not taking his eyes away from his easel. "I missed running off on adventures with you at the drop of a hat."

"So did I. But, hopefully... we may be able to get back to that again sometime soon."

Benedict looked over at me from his easel, a rougish grin on his face.

"If I didn't know better, Lady Y/L/N, I would think you were boardering on making me a marriage proposal."

I faced forward and closed my eyes under the guise of feeling the sun, trying to ignore my heart pumping frantically in my chest.

"Well. Fortunately for us both, you do know better. And it's not as if you're some strange man I met at court. You're... Ben. My best friend."

"I never said I wouldn't like it, did I? It would be an honor to be proposed to by you."

I cracked one eye open, turning my head to face Benedict with a grin. He wasn't looking at me, his stare focused on his canvas, his face completely serious. My heart stopped threatening to explode out of my chest, and instead settled into the unique, glowing warmth of love I felt whenever Benedict and I were together.

"I love you, Ben," I said, my voice soft and quiet. He stopped his work completely to turn and look at me, a soft smile on his face.

"I love you too. Very, very much." We held each others' stares for a moment, soaking in the comfort and joy of being together, and then Benedict's smile turned into a more edged grin. "It's a good thing we feel so strongly, since we may just be forced into an earlier marriage than planned to avoid a scandal after disappearing for an entire afternoon and evening together."

I huffed and waved him off. "Fortunately, I predict your brother will be accidentally helping us and making up for causing this crisis of confidence in the first place. He and Miss Kate Sharma are so ridiculous and dramatic together, I highly doubt anyone will notice we're gone."

Benedict chuckled, turning back to his work to scan it one last time before finally setting down his paintbrush. He took a deep breath, then stood and offered a hand to me.

"I've finished," he announced as I took his hand. He pulled my to my feet, but instead of looking at the painting, my eyes stayed fixed on him. We were almost chest to chest, and I could tell from his furrowed brows and darting eyes just how nervous he was about my verdict. "Remember, you promised me honesty."

"And honesty you will get."

Finally, I turned from Benedict to the canvas he'd been working on all afternoon. I'd resisted peeking before now at his request, so I wouldn't have any bias from watching his process. Fortunately, just as I'd predicted, his work was magnificent.

"Benedict..." I breathed as I took in the soft lines and vibrant colors before me. It perfectly captured how I felt looking out at the valley before us; it captured the gorgeous scenery, yes, but it also infused everything with a bit of magic that I only felt in this space with him. "This is absolutely incredible."

Benedict came around to stand next to me, arms crossed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him shaking his head.

"Now please don't forget, you promised me honesty."

"I am being honest! Benedict, this is fantastic. The way you capture the myriad of different shades of the light shining across the valley, the seamless lines giving the world a slightly hazy, dreamlike look, and the way you've left the paint a bit messier with the clouds, to make it look like they're moving? It's all perfect, Ben. And masterful. It's a picture of the valley, yes, but it looks like it's alive. And you somehow managed to capture what it feels like to be here in the moment together, the sun on our faces, with each other even when we're not supposed to be, in a truly special way. You're an incredibly talented artist, and I'd be saying that even if you were a complete stranger that I didn't particularly like."

He snorted, then after a second, wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest. I leaned into him immediately, sighing a bit as he leaned his head against mine.

"I have a hard time believing you'd say all that to a stranger you didn't like."

I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the stomach, and he laughed without letting me go. A smile spread on my own face despite myself.

"Alright, maybe I wouldn't say all that to a stranger I didn't like. But I'd say it about their work when they couldn't hear me, probably to you. My point stands, Ben. You are a very skilled and talented artist. Anthony isn't the reason you got into that school. You are."

His chest rose and fell with a long, deep breath, and then finally, I felt him nod.

"Thank you. I can't promise it will always be easy for me to always believe it, but... I'll try to remember your words, and not my brother's, from now on."

"Good. And if you feel down again, you can always come to me. I'll always be there for you, Benedict, whenever you need me."

"And I you, my love," he said, moving down to whisper the words in my ear as he wrapped his other arm around my waist, too. He kissed my cheek, and I leaned back into his chest for a moment before turning around in his arms to face him.

The beautiful, kind smile I'd fallen in love with stared back at me, along with his warm brown eyes. I smiled too, then finally stopped ignoring my racing heart and decided to continue the theme of ignoring the Ton and what they might say.

I leaned into Benedict, closing the distance between us with a glance at his lips before meeting his eyes again. Both of his eyebrows shot up, but he didn't pull away.

"Y/N... if anyone found out..."

I smiled. "They won't. Besides, they'd just make us follow through on something we're already planning, anyway."

Benedict huffed a laugh, his eyelids fluttering a bit as he looked at me like he couldn't believe I was real. Then, his arms tightened around my waist, and he leaned in even closer. I closed my eyes, feeling Benedict stop just a hair's breadth away from my lips.

"Are you sure-"

I closed the distance myself before he could continue. Benedict smiled into the kiss a moment later, pulling me closer to him, the two of us locked in each others' embrace as the sun set in the hills behind us. Truly, I didn't think anyone would be able to find out about how we'd spent our afternoon, but I also truly didn't care. I loved Benedict, and even though it was technically early in our courtship, I'd known him for most of my life. I knew we were meant to spend our lives together, and I knew he felt the same way as I did. Sooner or later, we'd make it official with an engagement and marriage, and be able to disappear together whenever we wanted without the Ton batting an eyelash. But, in the meantime, I didn't mind sneaking away for private moments like this one bit. No matter what had led to it in the first place.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[roosterforme]

That's My Boy | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets caught up in his emotions after Everett turns twelve. As his son gets older, he realizes that days spent playing baseball in the park together will grow fewer in number. He wants to make all of them count.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

"I can't believe he's turning twelve next week," Bradley muttered as you and he stood in front of a wall of baseball bats in San Diego's best sporting goods store. "It feels like he just turned seven."

You slipped your arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "Have I mentioned yet that I love that you kept the Padres game tradition alive every year for his birthday? Ev is going to flip when you tell him you got box seats for the game on Sunday."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and grunted softly as he smiled. "I fucking love that kid. He still asks me to take him to the park to hit balls all the time. And I just don't know how much longer he's going to think I'm cool, you know?"

You snorted against Bradley's chest and then looked up at him. "He'll probably think you're cool for longer than he thinks I am!"

"Well, yeah. Obviously, Kitten," he said as he rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "But I might only last another year or so past you."

"You're obnoxious," you informed him with a grin as he positioned you with your arms out in front of you and your palms up. 

"I know," he replied, giving you another kiss. Then he walked around the store and loaded your arms with two new bats, a new mitt, cleats and some baseballs. "I think that's good. Plus I ordered him and I those personalized Phillies throwback jerseys."

"Seriously? You think the two of you needed more Phillies jerseys? You probably already have half a dozen with BRADSHAW on the back."

"Actually I have seven. This will make eight," he said, pulling you closer to him while your arms were still full. "But he won't be a kid for much longer. He's not gonna want to match with me when he's eighteen. And I love spoiling him. And you."

You set everything down at the register while Bradley dug his credit card out of his wallet. "So..." you said softly while the cashier bagged everything up, and he paid. Bradley looked at you out of the corner of his eye as you ran your hand along the back of his bicep. "You want to take me home and spoil me while Everett is with his cousins for the evening?"

Bradley smirked and grabbed the bag, lacing his fingers with yours. "You want to dress up in your bodysuit and kitten ears for me? Let me kiss off your whiskers?" 

You were giggling as you ran out to his Bronco, and Bradley was hot on your heels.

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

"Dad, I want to try out my new gear," Everett whined as he looked out the front window at the pouring rain a week later. His voice was starting to get deeper, and all of the girls in his class had a crush on him. He had grown up so much since Bradley met him, and sometimes it still shocked him that he had a son. 

"It's supposed to be nicer out tomorrow. We can go then."

Everett turned and looked at him. "But tomorrow's your birthday."

Bradley smiled. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do after work than come home, get changed, grab his mitt, and go to the park. "Yeah, it'll be fun."

But Everett still looked skeptical. "Won't Mom be mad if we ditch her on your birthday?"

"Nah. We'll be home for dinner. And I'll make it up to her later."

Everett grimaced and started to head upstairs, but then he paused and asked, "Can we wear our new jerseys?"

"Of course."

And it turned out, you were a little annoyed at first the following day. "I have birthday dinner and cupcakes planned. I thought the three of us could eat together here since we're going to the pizza place with Molly and Bob on Friday."

Bradley pulled you close and whispered, "Just for an hour?" He rubbed your back and gave you his sweetest expression. "We'll just hit a few balls and come right back."

He turned as he heard Everett thunder down the stairs. "Ready, Coach?"

"Please?" Bradley asked you, kissing your forehead. 

"Go," you said, pushing him toward Everett. "But seriously, be home by seven or I'll eat all the cupcakes myself."

Bradley and Everett ran out the front door with twin grins and loaded their gear into the back of the Bronco. It was strange to see how tall his son had gotten after a recent growth spurt; he was already almost as tall as you. Another few years, and he'd be the same height as Bradley. Maybe taller. 

"You okay?" Everett asked, and Bradley realized he was just standing there staring at him. He looked a lot like his biological father, but he really looked so much like you.

"Yeah," he grunted, kind of missing the days when he would buckle Everett into his booster seat. Now he climbed into the front seat without help. Bradley started the engine and said, "A few more years and I'll be teaching you how to drive this thing."

Everett's eyes bugged out. "You'll let me drive the Bronco? Mom hardly ever even drives it."

"Yeah, well, Mom doesn't appreciate the fine art of making sure it doesn't stall out on the highway."

"I would," he replied, looking around the interior like it was a hallowed space. 

Bradley nodded as he pulled into the parking lot. "I don't doubt it, Kiddo. You ready to test out your new bats?"

"So ready!"

The grass was still a little damp from all the rain, but the air smelled fresh as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. Bradley waited until Everett signalled that he was ready, and then he pitched an easy slider to him. Everett sent it soaring. "Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched where it landed so they could collect it later. "Nice," he called out as he reached into his bucket for another ball.

This time he threw the same pitch but harder. The result was identical as Everett nailed it far into the outfield. "I like this bat!" he said, adjusting his stance, ready for more.

Bradley rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck before throwing his slider again, this time with everything he had. He could feel the ball leave his hand. The perfect pitch. And then he heard the crack of the bat. The perfect hit. This time the ball went even farther than the last two.

"Damn," Bradley said, reaching for another ball and rolling it around in his glove a few times. "Try the other bat," he told Everett, and he watched his son switch them and take a few practice swings.

"Ready!"

Maybe he wouldn't be expecting a fastball this time. Bradley wound up and threw a pitch that even Bob could only hit half the time in the rec league games. 

Crack!

"Jesus, Everett," he said as he watched the ball sail directly over his head. In a real game, it would have been an easy out for the center fielder, but it was hit so well and so hard, Bradley was kind of shocked. 

"Come on, Dad," Everett called. "Throw a really hard one."

Bradley looked at his eager face. He wasn't taunting; he really wanted a harder pitch. But Bradley was already starting to get a little sore as he scooped up another ball. He threw the hardest changeup he could muster, and while it wasn't a clean hit, Everett still got some wood on it. 

But when he threw that pitch again, Everett hit it square on and sent it sailing farther than the other balls in the outfield. "Damn, Kiddo," Bradley said, gaping at his son who looked completely unfazed. 

"Wanna switch places?" Everett asked, heading toward Bradley and handing him the bat. 

But it was more of the same. Sure, the bat wasn't quite big enough for Bradley, and it was still hard for Everett to stay in the strike zone, but Bradley could barely hit his pitches. They were too fast. His slider was so good, he had Bradley swinging too late. His changeup was so sneaky, Bradley swung early. 

Finally, Everett threw a fastball that Bradley nailed so hard, they'd be lucky to find it in the treeline. "That's a birthday home run, Coach!" Everett cheered, jumping and tossing another ball up into the air.

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just standing there staring at the twelve year old. He felt tears prickle his eyes as he smiled and closed the distance between them. "You're really good, Ev," he whispered, pulling him tight to his body. When his son smiled up at him with his slightly crooked front tooth and bright eyes, Bradley said, "Let's get home for dinner with Mom."

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

You loved more than anything that you and Everett had Bradley in your lives, and that the boys so easily lost track of time when they were together. But tonight you made an enormous dinner for your husband's birthday, and now they were late getting back. Just as you started to make yourself a plate of food, unable to wait any longer to eat, the two of them burst through the front door. Everett was talking a mile a minute, and they looked absolutely adorable in their matching shirts. 

"Did you have fun?" you asked, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. It was actually impossible to be annoyed at them when they got like this. But Bradley met your eyes with a soft smile on his face that almost looked a little sad. 

"Yeah," he replied, his voice rough. When you set your plate down and went to him, he pulled you in for a hug. "Thanks for making dinner."

"Happy birthday," you whispered for probably the hundredth time today. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm perfect."

The three of you ate at the table, but Bradley was a little quieter than usual. And he only ate one cupcake instead of two or three. And you thought you saw tears in his eyes when he opened the enormous Phanatic foam finger Everett picked out for him. 

"I love it. And I love you," Bradley told Everett as he hugged him. "We can put it upstairs in the Phillies room."

You watched the way your son hugged him as he said, "Happy birthday, Dad." There was no way that kid was ever going to stop thinking Bradley was cool. 

"Ev, sweetie, it's time to start getting ready for bed," you reminded him.

"Go on up and get a shower, and then I'll tuck you in," Bradley told him as Everett went thundering up the stairs. 

He was old enough that he probably didn't still need to be tucked in, but you knew for a fact that Everett had never once asked Bradley to stop. When you looked at your husband across the table, he was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. You stood and went to him as you softly asked, "Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes before scooting his chair back and patting his thigh so you'd sit on his lap. You settled in with your arms around his neck, and he kissed your cheek and your shoulder as he visibly tried to hold back his tears. 

"God, Kitten. You should have seen him tonight. He's just so fucking good."

"I know he is," you replied, kissing his cheek.

"No. He's better than me now. He hit the hardest pitch I could throw, and then I could barely make contact with his slider."

You let those words really sink in. Bradley was easily one of the best players in his recreational league. He could pitch nine innings and make it look easy. He could hit the ball beyond the fences. "Are you serious?"

"I'm so fucking serious, Baby," he whispered, rubbing his mustache along your neck. "He's twelve. His voice hasn't even changed all the way yet. He hasn't even reached his maximum height."

You took Bradley's face in your hands and kissed his nose. "And this is making you cry?"

He shrugged as you ran your thumbs along his rosy cheeks. "I'm just overwhelmed. He seems so grown up now." He closed his eyes, voice shaky as he said, "I wish I'd had more time with him when he was a little kid, you know? I didn't get to see him when he was a toddler or anything. It would have been nice to have another year of tee ball. Hell, I wish I'd had a few more years with you, too." 

Now your throat felt tight with tears of your own, but you shook your head. "You found us at just the right time. Right when we needed you the most."

Your forehead came to rest against his as he gave up the battle and let himself cry. You loved that he was so soft for the two of you and let you see his emotions. He took as much time as he needed while you ran your fingers through his hair, and when he met your eyes again, he was smiling.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when he doesn't want to play ball in the park with me anymore," he said with a laugh as he wiped his eyes. "I live for this shit."

You kissed his cheek as you heard Everett calling for him to come upstairs. "I really don't think you're going to have to worry about that, Coach."

Bradley stood but kept you close. "Pretty soon he'll be grown. An actual man."

When he tried to walk away to tuck Everett in, you put your hands on his chest to keep him in place. "Yeah. He will. And he'll have the best role model in you to show him how it's done."

Bradley ran his hand over his forehead, and he looked like he might start crying again. "I better go tuck him in while I still can."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs. When he turned right toward Everett's bedroom, you stood in the hallway, blinking away your own tears as you listened to their voices. Their combined laughter filled your house and your heart as you waited to take your husband's hand for the night whenever he was done being the dad who was tailor made for Everett.

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

Soft and sweet Coach makes me tear up every time. Bradley, Everett is always going to think you're cool, and he's always going to want to spend time with you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[swappingbryn]

Best Purchase

I knew I would likely not be able to achieve ALL my fitness goals, but I still wanted to try and achieve some of them. I was on the wrong side of 30, not balding but my head was thinning, I gained the “freshman 15” and it grew like compound interest, and I had little visible muscle.

After a year of strict diet, exercise, supplements, I had lost about 20 pounds of fat, gained some muscle, but I was fat from where I wanted to be and from where I thought I would be after all this hard work.

I kept seeing ads for a clothing brand “Midlife Changes,” which I only remembered because I thought it was strange that a company called “midlife” would have only influencers as models. However, they had lots of five star reviews and nothing below a 4, but the weird thing was that all the reviews were short or had no comments. Their prices were high, so I only bought a shirt from the clearance page called “Ragin Ray.”

It arrived in a small, nondescript package a week later (since I refused to pay for expedited shipping). Inside the package was a note thanking me for my purchase, a request to leave a review once I was satisfied, and instructions. I thought it was strange to include instructions with a shirt, but figured it was just washing instructions, but it was a detailed note explaining how to use it. I was to shower, then wear it to bed, the entire following day, making sure to work out as much as possible, not to shower or remove it, and sleep in it once more, and only then should I remove it and shower and then was the shirt. I thought it was stupid, but figured I had nothing to lose. I waited until Friday night, so I’d have all day Saturday to follow the instructions, I showered, put on the short and went to bed.

I woke up the next day and I felt different, and once I saw myself, I realized I was at lease 10 years younger. I wasn’t big, but I was younger, and with the extra time, I knew I could make better gains.

I wore the shirt all day as instructed, and went to the gym for two hours that morning, when I’m usually exhausted after one hour. Went home for lunch, I wanted to shower since I smelled but I held out, then knowing I couldn’t go out with friends or do anything since I was sweaty and smelly, I went back to the gym. I did another 3 hours. I was drenched in sweat but still felt good. When I went to the locker room, I saw my reflection, I was amazed, I was huge.

I went home, had a small dinner and went to bed. I refused to deviate from the instructions. I woke up Sunday and KNEW something was different. I ran to the bathroom and realized I was even bigger. As per the instructions, I removed the shirt, got in the shower and explored my body. It felt amazing, huge muscles, hard abs, and my dick was almost 9”. I exited the shower and when I entered my room, it was all different, trophies all over the wall, messy bed, a desk, and a closet full of clothes that for me, the new me.

I threw on some clothes, grabbed my phone and wallet and went to the gym. When I arrived, the desk attendant, who never paid attention to me before, said “what’s going Ray? Party last night?” I mumbled agreement and kept going. I checked my wallet in the locker room and saw a new ID, I’m Joel Raymond Edwards, 24 years old.

This was the best purchase I’ve ever made, and I made sure to leave a 5 star review, but only write “best purchase ever, love this shirt.”

@kiwineeds

[wreckedandpolemic]

6,98,99. Sorry for the multiple numbers, they just work so well together.

Also love your work!💜

my kink is karma - matty healy

(mdni) in which your ex wants to give you a birthday treat. too bad for your boyfriend. 2099 words.

warnings: cheating, semi-public sex, daddy kink

Firstly, you’d like to say that you’re not a spiteful person, thank you very much. But fuck if it doesn’t feel good to run into your ex drinking alone while celebrating your birthday with your friends and your shiny, new boyfriend. Matty salutes you with his glass when you spot him, and you ignore him pointedly. He won’t fucking leave it alone, though — that’s always been his problem.

“Of all the gin joints in all the world, she walks into mine,” says Matty, low in your ear as you go to order yourself another drink at the bar. You hope he doesn’t notice the shudder that runs through you at the sound of his voice. “Whatever she’s having on my tab, yeah?” he adds smoothly, and you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll have a bottle of the most expensive champagne you’ve got,” you grin. What? He’s got the money for it, and you aren’t going to turn down a free drink on your birthday, of all days. Matty shrugs when the bartender looks at him to confirm, and she hands you the bottle in a cooler.

You turn to leave, go back to your friends, but Matty takes hold of your wrist, gentle enough that you could break out of it. Something stops you, though. “Happy birthday,” he mutters. “Thought about callin’, but…” he blows out a breath. “The way we left things, I didn’t know if you’d wanna hear from me.”

Feigning casualness, you shrug, pretending like the reminder of your heart-wrenching breakup doesn’t tear at you all over again. “Yeah… Well, you’re here now,” you say matter-of-factly. “How’ve you been?” you ask, despite knowing the answer. Over the last six months, you’ve taken some kind of twisted pleasure in keeping tabs on him, in watching his life fall apart.

The two of you split in April, leaving you forced to move out of the apartment you loved that was in his name, nine days after you’d paid your half of the rent. June, he got arrested in a drunken bar fight; July crashed his car, the car he loved more than almost anything, leaving it completely written off; August, the girl he’d been seeing since suspiciously soon after your breakup left him with no warning. Meanwhile, you’ve had a promotion, gotten into the perfect relationship and everything is falling neatly into place.

Your reaction to him being around is involuntary, you tell yourself, fucking Pavlovian. You were together for three fucking years, of course your body still responds to him. It’s still learning what it’s like to live without him. Matty sighs, and you jolt out of your reverie as you remember you asked him a question. “Not great,” he admits. “Drinkin’ alone on a Friday night not tip you off?” he says, bitterness tracing his tone. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve been great,” you say blithely. “I’m making great money, I’m in love, properly this time,” you can’t resist adding. “And you just bought me a bottle of champagne and told me everything sucks for you! What more could a girl want on her birthday?”

Matty scoffs. “You’re still the same,” he says coolly. “Bratty when you’re not getting fucked right, huh?” he adds, your stomach swooping at his words.

You don’t know what makes you admit it, some heady combination of mixed drinks and Matty’s presence for the first time in months overcoming all sense, but you murmur, “M’not. He’s not as good as you. S’the only thing I miss.” You try to weaken the admission.

Matty’s eyes light up, and you groan internally. “Is that so?” His grip tightens on your wrist and you stumble towards him when he tugs on it, a sickening pulse of arousal dripping down your spine. “Got everything you want, huh? Even down to your perfect little boyfriend. But you think about me when he’s fucking you, don’t you?” he breathes, something hard and dangerous in his tone, your heart thudding traitorously as he leans closer. 

“I… That’s not true.” you say, but the wavering of your voice betrays you, and he smirks wickedly.

“You can’t lie to me, baby. I know you too well.” The statement lodges in your throat like you’ve dry-swallowed a pill, the truth ringing disgustingly clear. “What do you say? You want one last good fuck, for old times’ sake?”

You should pull away. You need to pull away. You have to pull away. But you can’t. “Once a cheater, always a cheater,” you say. Matty’s eyes darken, but you know he took note of the most crucial element first: it wasn’t a refusal.

“I never cheated on you,” Matty says seriously. “I did a lot of other shit, I know I did, but not that. Never that.”

You swallow hard. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“One more time. One more fuck. I need you out of my system,” you breathe, and you could almost cum from the filthy look on his face. Guiltily, you slink to the bathroom, casting furtive glances around and praying nobody spots you trailing after Matty and slipping behind a locked door.

Matty slams you against the door the second it shuts, devouring you in a harsh kiss, teeth and tongue sliding together almost violently. Having his hands on you again feels horrifyingly good, nauseatingly familiar. He’s hard, you can feel as he presses his body against yours, and you whimper pathetically into his mouth. “God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Matty groans, like he can’t help himself. “Makes me sick. Been fuckin’ dying for you, baby.”

“So hurry up,” you snap. “I know you’re here alone, but I have people who care, and not much time before one of them notices I’m missing.”

“Such a brat,” Matty teases. “Need a good fuck to shut you up, yeah? S’alright, baby. Daddy’s here now. Gonna give you what you need.” The bottom falls out of your stomach and his words, a helpless, strangled moan escaping you. “Oh, missed your Daddy, have you, darling? Not given your little boyfriend my name, right?”

“N-no,” you stammer. “He… he wouldn’t understand. You’re my Daddy, couldn’t replace you.” Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your mind dizzy with desire, the words spilling from your lips without permission.

You’d forgotten how it feels with him, how Matty gets you sick with lust, thick and palpable in the air of the small room. “Good girl,” he croons. “Bend over for Daddy, yeah? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

You obey, the sight of your reflection sickening. You look fucked-out already, flushed red and panting. Matty’s hands come to rest on your hips, stroking appreciatively over the curve of your ass and pushing your too-short dress up around your hips. Torturously slow, he pulls your panties off, motioning for you to step out of them when they hit the floor. “I’m keeping these,” he says, slipping the scrap of lace into his pocket. “Something to remember you by, yeah?”

Wrapped up in his touch as you were, the reminder that this is a one-time thing shocks you like you’ve been doused with ice water. Right now, you don’t have a fucking clue why you even broke up, not when his fingers are so achingly close to your dripping core. “God, Matty, please!” you choke out, widening your legs desperately. 

“Give me a minute, baby. Missed this pretty cunt so much. Gotta make sure I don’t forget a thing, if this is the last time m’gonna get to have you.” He brushes his fingers through your folds, your body jolting at the barest touch over your swollen clit. Meeting your gaze in the dingy mirror, Matty wraps his lips around his wet fingers, moaning exaggeratedly as he sucks them clean. “God, missed the way you taste, darling. Sweetest fucking girl I’ve ever had,” he promises, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.

You squirm, cold porcelain biting into your thighs. You hear the sound of a foil wrapper tearing open, and before you can process, Matty slides into you, your knees buckling at the sudden fullness. “F-fuck,” you whimper, the feeling of being wholly surrounded by him familiar as he thrusts deep into you, pleasure cascading over your bones.

“God, you feel so fucking good, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Daddy’s gonna fuck you until the only word you remember is my name,” Matty promises, shushing you soothingly as you whimper. His hips slam against yours, ecstasy flooding your veins as your thighs bash against the sink. He fists a hand in your hair, dragging you up to meet your own gaze in the mirror. “Look at yourself, baby. Look how gorgeous you are, falling apart on my dick. Right where you should be, hm?” he murmurs, heat flooding your belly as you watch yourself take his cock over and over. “He could never fuck you like this, huh? Whose girl are you, really?”

“M’yours, Daddy. Yours, still yours, all yours,” you babble, cunt clenching wantonly around him as his smirk grows and his pace speeds. You moan horrifyingly loud when he hits that spot inside of you, too dizzy with desire to control your noises.

“Shh, baby, shh. Try not to be so noisy, yeah? Can’t let anyone know what we’re doin’ in here, that this lying fucking bastard has you split open and begging on his cock.” He throws your words from your final fight back in your face, pinching your clit meanly and fucking you deep. You can’t hold back another whimpering scream, and he scoffs. “Needy little whore can’t keep quiet, huh?” he murmurs, sliding two of his fingers into your mouth. Eagerly, you suck on them, your moans muffled as saliva pools under your tongue.

Heat scorches through you, every thrust of Matty’s hips and grunt that falls from his lips sending an illicit spark of pure pleasure racing up your spine. You can’t think, can barely breathe, choked in desperate lust that drips out of you and soaks him. He’s right, you can’t remember anything but him, his name circling your head, denting your brain out of shape. Nothing but Matty, Matty, Matty. “This fuckin’ pussy drives me insane, baby. Always so wet for me, so wet for your Daddy. Could have this all the time, if you wanted.”

His words cut through the fog in your mind as Matty slides his fingers free from your mouth to let you answer. “What do you mean?” you stammer, your disloyal heart skipping a beat.

“We had issues, yeah. But we were good together,” Matty murmurs, rubbing distracting circles into your clit, training you into giving the right response. “I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last six months. About us.” He slams his hips against yours on the final word, pleasure roiling in your stomach, every muscle in your body stringing taut. “I want another try. I know it would be better this time. I’d be better,” he promises, nails digging possessively into your hips.

“Matty, I–” You’re at a loss for words. His face crumples almost imperceptibly; if you weren’t so attuned to him, you wouldn’t have known.

“S’okay, baby. Fucked you too dumb to answer, I get it. You wanna be a good girl and cum for Daddy?” You nod wildly, his circles over your clit getting tighter and faster and you whimper helplessly, but you don’t miss how he’s stopped meeting your eyes.

Ecstasy winds around your veins, sticky, hot desire pinning you still as Matty fucks into you. “Fuck, Daddy, m’gonna–” you gasp out, the tension in your body finally breaking, stars going supernova behind your eyelids. Your legs tremble, your entire body going limp as waves of pleasure swirl in your stomach and buffet your organs.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Matty murmurs soothingly. “Daddy’s got you. Whenever you want, I’ll be here,” he promises, and a split-second later you feel his cock pulsing inside of you, the feeling of his cum spilling in your cunt sorely missing.

It takes a few moments before your legs have stopped shaking enough for you to stand, Matty supporting your waist as you clutch your abused muscles. “We should… I should get back out there,” you say, raking your fingers through your hair in an effort to tame it. You both look well-fucked, the question of how you’re going to explain your absence rattling around your mind. Matty meets your eyes one last time, looking over his shoulder as he unlocks the door.

“When you get bored of him, call me. I’ll be waiting.”

[fungifanart]

Budget for love

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Ruggie Bucchi, Grim

CW: Skipping meals, existential dread, money problems

Word count: 2,032

Notes: I heard a voice one night, urging me to write a Ruggie fic...that voice was mine. I just like Ruggie.

---------------------------------------‐-------------------------

Ruggie Bucchi's financial status is, by no means, a secret.

Ever since he enrolled at Night Raven College, he's garnered a reputation for being a money-grubbing cheapskate who can reduce any merchant to their knees through his skill at haggling alone, all due to his lack of financial security.

Growing up in the slums will do that to a guy, he supposes.

Along with that, growing up poor has also instilled in him a certain pettiness and resentment in regards to the more privileged classes, which just so happen to make up a very large portion of NRC's student body.

Joy.

Well, if nothing else, this makes it easy to simply view most of the other students as potential pickpocket targets.

However, this also makes it easy to forget that not all of them are more well-off than he is, meaning it's especially jarring when he comes across a certain Prefect and direbeast having an argument in Sam's on-campus store.

"C'mon, Henchman! You're telling me we can't afford ONE little extra can of tuna?" Grim argues while clutching said can of tuna to his chest tightly.

"Yes I am, Grim. With our budget, we can barely even afford the bare essentials for this week. That 'one little extra can' will push us over the edge for sure!" The Prefect argues back with the look of a tired father trying in vain to reason with his stubborn child, "Listen, I get paid for my work at the Mostro Lounge on Friday, right? I know you've still got some of your secret stash left, so if you can hold out until then, I'll get you a can of the fancy tuna as a reward. How's that sound?"

That last statement causes Grim's face to light up as he immediately drops the can of regular tuna and hugs the Prefect while exclaiming, "Deal!"

Ruggie doesn't do anything. He simply watches, mildly dazed at what should have been a fact he already knew as the Prefect finishes paying for his essentials and leaves the store with Grim as Ruggie continues to stand there before being brought back to his senses by another student telling to him to move out of the way.

Ruggie doesn't see the Prefect again for a few days after that, their schedules never seeming to allow them even a passing glance in the halls, but the memory of what he saw that day still lingers in his mind for a reason he can’t quite identify right now.

The next time Ruggie does see the Prefect is in the cafeteria during lunch.

It's one of the rare occasions where he hasn't been ordered by Leona to get his lunch for him, so he's taking his time, scanning the tables for a place to sit when he notices the Prefect sitting across from his feline companion while said companion munches away at his food.

Seeing no other open seats, Ruggie walks over and says, "Long time, no see, Prefect! Mind if I sit here?" He asks despite not waiting for the other man's answer and plopping himself and his tray down in the spot next to him.

"O-oh! Yeah, that's fine." The Prefect responds before turning his head back to Grim as he eats, but Ruggie can't help but notice the lack of food on his side of the table.

"Dang, Prefect! I wish I got here sooner so I could've seen the carnage!" Ruggie remarks while playfully nudging the other man's shoulder.

"Huh? What do you mean?" The Prefect asks confusedly.

"Oh, come on! YOU finishing your food before GRIM? I can only imagine how much you stuffed your face to make that happen!" Ruggie concludes with a snicker before taking a bite of one of his sandwiches.

The Prefect blinks a couple times before responding, "Oh, I think there's been a misunderstanding. I didn't get lunch." He says, causing the hyena to choke on his food.

"W-whaddaya mean you 'didn't get lunch'???" Ruggie questions after chugging his water.

The Prefect shrugs, "Just what I said. We have some leftovers at Ramshackle that I could’ve brought, but we were in such a rush this morning that we couldn't even eat breakfast, much less prepare any lunch and running back between classes would take too long. Therefore, we had no choice but to buy lunch from here, but I had barely enough cash to get food for one of us and it'd kill me to see Grim go hungry, so I figured I'd be fine if I skipped a meal or two." He concludes nonchalantly.

Ruggie proceeds to sit there, dumbfounded, as the Prefect goes back to watching Grim eat, his face content, but with a hint of melancholy.

Ruggie knows that look. He's seen it countless times in his childhood on the faces of some of the adults in his neighborhood as they forwent their own food just to let their children eat.

He doesn't remember seeing a lot of them around last time he went home.

His mind snaps back to the present as he looks down at his lunch tray piled high with the food he bought using money he'd snuck out of Leona's wallet and then back at the empty space in front of the Prefect, his stomach suddenly not feeling as empty as before.

Wordlessly, Ruggie takes two of his sandwiches and slides them over to the other man, who looks back at him in bewilderment.

"Ruggie? What's this for?" The Prefect asks.

Ruggie clears his throat awkwardly before responding, "W-well, it's just that it turns out I got more food than I'll probably eat, so I thought 'why not', right?" He says while forcing his signature laugh.

Luckily, the Prefect doesn't seem to read into his awkwardness as his suppressed hunger resurfaces on his face and he proceeds to practically inhale the sandwiches after giving a rushed "Thanks!"

In a matter of seconds, the sandwiches have completely disappeared, leaving Ruggie both amazed and...oddly fulfilled upon seeing the Prefect’s own satisfaction from having a full stomach.

Huh...that's new.

Ruggie's been so used to pinching his and other people's pennies at this school that helping out seemingly the only other student that's in the same boat as him, even without getting anything in return, feels...nice.

Nice feelings like this are few and far in between with a lifestyle like Ruggie's, so now that he's felt it, he proceeds to chase it whenever he can.

From that day onward, Ruggie makes a point to help out the Prefect if he has the time, starting with offering him a simple snack between classes or pointing him in the right direction if he gets lost, before slowly escalating into him stepping in to haggle Sam's prices down for him and even taking his hand and physically leading him to where he needs to go, not noticing the increasingly flustered looks on the other man's face.

He doesn't know when exactly it happened, but after a while, that simple nice feeling turned into something more...warm and fuzzy that he feels blooming in his chest as he and the Prefect grow closer, finding more and more time to spend with each other, whether it being studying together or going out to the market, until one night, they find themselves gazing up at the stars on the hill just outside of Ramshackle.

Looking over at the stars reflecting in the Prefect’s eyes, Ruggie can't deny how beautiful they look. And what he also can't deny is the fact that he's grown attached their owner.

He can’t help but imagine what the future could hold for the two of them.

But then he remembers who the Prefect is.

He's an otherworlder. The one destined to leave this world behind in favor of the one where he actually belongs.

The only future that exists for Ruggie and the Prefect is one where he waves goodbye as the other man disappears into the Dark Mirror forever.

But that doesn't mean he has to be okay with it. That doesn't mean he can't still want the Prefect to stay, preferably with him.

"Can I ask you something?" Ruggie questions.

"Sure, what is it?" The Prefect responds, looking over at Ruggie, the serene expression on his face only further solidifying his feelings.

"Just out of curiosity, what would you do if you couldn't go back to your world?" Ruggie asks, noting how the other man tenses up at the question.

"W-well, I guess I'd keep going here until I graduate..." The Prefect responds in a way that doesn't fully answer Ruggie's question.

"Ok? And then what about after that?" Ruggie pushes.

".......................To be honest, I try not to think about it." The Prefect finally answers with a sigh, "People always say that graduating from here basically guarantees success in life, but how many high-ranking, high-paying jobs are actually there for someone like me in a world like this, even as a so-called 'beast tamer'? And that's not even accounting for me not having any official documentation since I wasn't born here! Hell, the most Crowley will do is cover up the fact that he has an undocumented individual among his students, so if I can't find a way to become a citizen by graduation, I'm out of luck!" He concludes while bringing his hands to his face in frustration.

Ruggie...can't say he's ever thought about that. And now he's feeling extra bad for the Prefect as he thinks of ways he might be able to help.

And it's then that he remembers a certain law in the Sunset Savanna and his trademark mischievous smile spreads across his face.

"Y'know, if citizenship's a big issue for you, we could always get married!" He blurts out, breaking the other man out of his wallowing as he chokes in surprise before letting out a laugh.

"You shouldn't joke about that!" The Prefect says with a giggle and a playful push against the hyena's shoulder.

"Hey! I'm serious!" Ruggie responds in a very unserious tone, "One of the laws in the Sunset Savanna says that if you marry one of its citizens, then you'll become a full citizen yourself!"

The Prefect's laughter dies down as he ponders this information, "Wait, really? How did THAT come about?" He asks, genuinely interested.

"Well, since it's ruled by lions, the kingdom's basically viewed as one, giant pride so being accepted by one of its members means being accepted into the pride, no questions asked." Ruggie explains.

"I feel like that leaves a lot of room for exploitation, though." The Prefect says thoughtfully.

"Hey, that works out for you, though. Doesn't it?" Ruggie says cheekily, earning another soft push against his shoulder.

"Don't act like this is set in stone already when we haven't even been on a proper date yet!" The other man argues lightheartedly.

"Well, if we're not counting all those study dates and market dates, then I guess you're right." Ruggie says bluntly, "So I'm free this Saturday if you wanna make it official."

The Prefect’s giggles stop as he looks at the hyena in surprise, who looks back at him with the first serious expression he's worn since the start of the conversation.

"I want you to know that I'm actually serious about this." Ruggie says while looking into the Prefect’s eyes, "I wouldn't throw an idea like that around willy-nilly, y'know."

The other man blinks for a couple seconds before his expression softens, "Alright, fine. How about this: IF I can't go home AND we both feel the same way after graduation, then I'll marry you. Deal?" He says while holding out his hand, clearly not fully convinced about Ruggie's conviction.

"Shishishi, deal!" The hyena says before shaking the Prefect’s hand and turning his head back towards the night sky, satisfied.

"Heh. So you're free this Saturday, huh?" The Prefect says before leaning over and pressing a kiss onto Ruggie's cheek, causing his heart rate to accelerate, "I'll look forward to it."

With heat blooming on his face, Ruggie feels that warm feeling in his chest again, but this time, he's able to put a name to it: Love.

[gracieheartspedro]

I Can See You

fem!reader x dbf!joel miller

Hi friends! It's been awhile (:

I am back to writing! This time, I'm planning on having many parts to this story. It's a DBF Joel Miller story, which I love to read, which means I had to write it, right?

I wrote this with no Y/N, instead each character gives her a nickname/pet name.

So here's Part 1, I really hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: DBF! Joel, age gap-ish (reader is 25, Joel is 39), eventual smut, joel being a little bit of a perv, reader not having a filter, alcohol consumption

“Mornin’,” His Southern accent was even deeper than usual. My head peaks up from behind my computer, noticing his very tired eyes. The bags under his eyes still somehow did him justice. 

“Mornin’ Joel,” I mutter before taking a sip of my coffee. I watch as he finds his way towards my bosses office. He was only my boss at work, but at home he was just Dad. 

I watch his ass move in his jeans, shamelessly. 

Finding your coworker hot is one thing, it’s another when it’s also your dad’s friend and he was about 20 years older than you. 

I’ve thought Joel Miller was quite the looker since I was about 18. I had just started working for my dad. I was mainly just scheduling and doing work orders. Joel took me out to a work site one day, on my father’s request. He wanted me to get know some of the people who would be scheduling work from us. I got to sit around with the property manager of an apartment complex in a tight black dress in the dead of summer, watching guys replace windows. While outside that day, Joel worked alongside some of the laborers, his tanned skin and shaggy dark hair glistening with sweat. Something about him doing manual labor turned me on. Something awoke in me that day, and ever since then, I thirst over him in silence. 

I catch myself looking a bit too long, quickly averting my eyes to my computer screen. I act like I am typing something, glancing over to Joel and my dad walking out of his office together. They are discussing another project that Joel was overseeing that would keep him very busy in the upcoming months. 

“My girl here will be starting back at college in the fall, so she will only be part time for awhile,” My dad says, drawing attention to me. 

“Oh really, where ya going?” 

I blank out completely for a moment.

“UT Austin,” I finally answer.

“Smart girl, you living on campus?”

“Nope, just getting my master’s in Engineering so living from home makes the most sense.”

Joel shakes his head, “Master’s. Didn’t you just graduate high school?”

“I’m 25, Joel.”

His eyes scan me for a moment, realizing I’m much older than he remembers. 

“Ha,” He grumbles, “Time flies huh, Steve?”

“Sure does, you just wait for that Sarah of yours is off to college,” My dad laughs, slapping Joel’s shoulder. I wince, realizing again he has a young daughter. It wasn’t ideal, to say the least. 

“We got about 5 years on that,” Joel says, his eyes returning to mine, “Well it’ll be nice havin’ you around during our busy season.”

“Happy to help,” I reply, not really meaning it. 

“Hey, Joel, you and Sarah making an appearance at our BBQ this weekend? We invited the whole neighborhood and I can’t remember if you told me you’d be there.”

His eyes are still on me, “Yeah, I’ll be there,” his eyes return to my dad’s, “Just me and Tommy though, Sarah is goin’ over to a friend’s house.”

“Can’t wait!” My dad cheers, “Baby girl, can you make sure my schedule is cleared Friday evening so I don’t have to worry about when I can get the meat?”

“Of course, dad,” I grit my teeth, “I’m on it.”

-

“Hey baby girl, can you go grab me some extra plates?” 

My dad was over the top with his BBQs to say the very least. The whole neighborhood was in on it. Steaks, burgers, hot dogs, chicken, the whole thing. I spent all morning getting the huge backyard and cabana ready for all our visitors. We usually had someone come over to do all the setting up, but Dad made sure to remind me that I was living rent free and being paid on his payroll, so setting up was the least I could do. 

People littered the pool and backyard. I weave between people, giving smiles and welcomes where I could.

I walk in to the kitchen, the cold AC air hitting my bare arms. Luckily, I was wearing shorts over my bikini shorts, or else the goose bumps would be up and down my legs, too. I begin searching the cabinets for the large serving plates you always used for big gatherings. Leaning down, my triangle bikini top almost lets my boobs loose. I sit up straight, messing with the knots on my back. I knew tightening it could only help so much.

“Need help?” I almost jump out of my skin. I turn quickly, spotting Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with me.

“Shit, you fucking scared me,” I breathe loudly, patting my chest to make my heart stop racing, “I think I can get it.”

“Mhm,” He sticks a tooth pick between his teeth, “Lemme help, girl.”

God he was so fine. I hated myself for having a crush on him. But the domestic and simple gray t-shirt that hugged his arms so well and the blue jeans? I simply could not resist staring. 

No chance in hell. But I got to look at him every day and imagine it. 

I turn on my heels, holding the ties out to him so he could tie them. 

“I need them tighter,” I mutter, “Don’t want these puppies falling out in front of the Adlers.”

“Don’t want to excite Mr. Adler too much, he may have himself a heart attack.”

I smile to myself, biting my lip. He ties it, his fingers grazing my bare back slightly. 

“All good now, girl,” I turn to face him, looking up at him through my eyelashes, “Now what were you lookin’ for?”

“Serving plates,” I explain, “Dad is finishing up those steaks, needs more space.”

“Well let’s get ‘em and head out to all the fun,” He says, ducking down to the cabinet I was looking in originally. He finds them, handing them up to me. He looks so good looking up at me from this angle. 

“You want to grab us some beers,” I suggest, “I’ll meet you out there?”

“Your dad runnin’ low?”

“Probably, so grab three.”

–

“So, you going to be here all summer?”

I had no interest in talking to Tommy, but he was keeping me from toeing the line with Joel in my drunken state, so here I am. I sit in my lounger chair, wanting so bad to take off my jean shorts. I knew if I did, Tommy would take it as I’m making a pass, so I sweat extra. 

“I’m starting college in August, so yeah I’ll be around the office and staying home.”

He smiles, “Good to hear, love seeing you around.”

I smile back faking a cheery laugh, “Thanks, Tommy… care to grab me another beer?”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

I watch him walk away before searching the crowd for Joel. I spot him across the yard, talking to one of the newer neighbors. A single mom who moved in two months ago. My dad kept joking the other night that he’d be making her my stepmom, which only made me gag. She was beautiful, younger than my dad, but just about Joel’s age. 

A pang of jealousy rises within me. 

Joel finally catches my wandering eyes. He smiles gently, giving me a nod.

“Here, darling,” Tommy says sweetly, “Need anything else?”

“Yeah, actually,” Your brother, “Can you help me with something?”

“Sure, ‘s up?”

I sit up, leaning over making my boobs hang right in his eye line. 

If I couldn’t keep one Miller’s attention, maybe I could snag second best. My beer filled brain thinks about how they are cut from the same cloth, so they both are probably good at this. 

“Do you want to help me change a lightbulb?”

He raises his eyebrows, “I guess, where at?”

I smirk, “My bedroom.”

We sneak away, my eyes scanning the area. It didn’t appear as anyone was following us. My room was the last room on the left upstairs, so the anticipation as I guided him down the hallway was killing me.

Ever since Joel grazed my back earlier, I’ve been ready. So fucking ready. 

“Are we actually changing a lightbulb?”

I open my door for him, gesturing to him to follow me in.

In the dim light, Tommy was very cute. He was a sweet guy and I knew he’d be the first to jump on my idea. 

“You tell me,” I say, starting to untie the knot Joel tied. In my moment of trying to be sexy, I realize Joel tied the stupidest and hardest knot ever. Tommy notices my struggle, reaching around me, frantically trying to get the top off.

As it gets loose, I reach up to grab his neck.

“What the fuck is going on ‘ere?” 

His voice freezes me. Tommy looks towards the door in horror.

“Joel-“

“Tommy, you fucking know better,” His voice is so intimidating and scary, I cant even muster the courage to turn around, “Git.”

Tommy gives me eyes saying I’m so sorry, and I just stare blankly at my wall. I hear Tommy’s foot steps run down the stairs. I realize how drunk I am because my wall paper begins to move on it’s own. It doesn’t usually do that. 

“Now you,” His stride towards me is quick, “I’m not your Dad, but don’t think he’d like you fucking his employees.”

Maybe it was the liquid courage, “Who said I was trying to fuck him?”

I snap my head towards his stern and impossible to read face.

“Bullshit,” He spits, “He got through my knot, he assumed somethin’ was about to happen.”

“Well, even if that’s where it went, why are you putting your nose in our business?”

He chuckles darkly, “So now it’s ours, huh? I have you know, girl, Tommy’s business is my business. And you’re just makin’ my job hard.”

I tiptoe closer to him, “And what’s your job, again, Mr. Miller?”

“Make sure people are behavin’ themselves.”

I realize what he’s doing. My tipsy mind took a second to search his face for more, but I can't read him at all. 

“I’m behaving, Mr. Miller. I promise,” I reach up, touching his jaw, “No more funny business.”

It was the closest I had ever got to him. I felt a rush just touching him.

“Good, get your top back on and come down to the party. Your dad is looking for you.”

I look down at myself as he leaves the room. My fucking tits are out, and he didn’t even look down.

The game he was playing was not the same one I was playing.

–

The next morning, I have a pounding headache and no drive to leave my room. I was embarrassed and horrified. I knew I would have to face Joel and Tommy on Monday morning, so I had to make amends beforehand. I really didn’t want them to tell my dad and I was pretty out of line for trying to fuck Tommy when Joel wasn't giving me the attention my drunk ass thought I deserved.

After spending hours in bed, rolling back and forth thinking of a script to say, I figured that honesty is the best policy. 

Well, honesty with a little bend in the truth. 

I get showered and dressed. My usual summer time outfit was a crop top and short shorts, but today I needed to be more… conservative. 

I find a nice summery dress, that went to midthigh. It was yellow, not a lot cleavage, floral. Innocent. 

When I get downstairs, my dad sits in the living room, his feet propped up watching the news. 

“Where ya going, baby girl?” 

“I’m going for a walk,” I lie. 

“Wearing that?”

“Yes,” I nod quickly, “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

He shakes his head, “No, have fun, I guess.”

I could tell he was suspicious, but he wasn’t one to pester me too much. He had high expectations for me, but I always exceeded them. He never questioned me too much, unless it was about school. He didn’t even really care about my love life. He always got excited when I told him I was going on dates in college. I mean, I rather him be excited than bother me about the guys I was seeing.

I start my journey to Joel’s. I didn’t even know if he was home or not, I was going on blind faith.

It was hot as shit and I was not fully prepared to walk to his house in a dress and sandals. 

I could’ve just driven there and back. But no, I decided to roast in the hot summer sun.

–

When I arrive to his house, I just kind of stand in his driveway, catching my breath. He was home, his truck was here. 

I walk to the front door, knocking first then ringing the door bell. 

It takes about minute, but he gets the door. 

And he’s shirtless. 

It was the worst and best moment of my entire life. 

“What are you doing here?”

And it’s not quite the response I was anticipating when I arrived at his door. 

“I uh-,” I hear some stirring inside the house, which causes me to peak my head past Joel’s shoulder. 

I see movement, but my eyes find Joel’s again before I could focus in on it. He pushes me back a bit, coming outside and shutting the door behind him. 

“I came to apologize, but you seem busy.”

He shakes his head, “Not busy, just woke up.”

“With someone?”

What the fuck? Why can’t I shut my mouth?

“Pardon me?”

“Well I walked this whole way to apologize about my inappropriate behavior yesterday,” I explain, “But yeah, that’s it.”

The door creaks open and I am wholeheartedly anticipating a hot MILF or something. But instead, it’s a little girl. 

“Sarah, get inside!”

“Oh hi, I know you!”

I smile at the girl. She was cute, I had to admit. She looked a bit like Joel, mainly the smile. A smile I wasn’t too familiar with, because he wasn’t too keen on my jokes. Ever.

“Yeah, I work with your dad,” I explain, “Nice to see you, Sarah.”

“You too, do you want to have lunch with us?”

“Sarah she can’t st-” 

“I’d love to, only if your dad says it’s okay.”

He got himself in a pickle, but I was aching to have a conversation that didn’t involve me putting my foot in my mouth like I almost did again. Plus, some food and water would help the heatstroke I felt coming on.

He stares at me, almost like he wished I’d disappear, “Of course, come in. Sarah is making sandwiches.”

“I hope you like turkey and cheese!”

—

“Thanks for the sandwich, Sarah,” I say, wiping my face making sure I didn’t have mustard left over.

She smiles with her mouth full, “You’re welcome!”

“Hey Sarah, why don’t you go get ready for swim practice,” He suggests, “Me and your new best friend need to have an adult conversation.”

She looks up at him annoyed, “I guess, but don’t scare her away. She has a cool pool I want to swim in.”

I laugh out loud, “Yeah, don’t scare me away, Joel.”

He doesn’t laugh, he just looks at me with his lazer eyes. I just wish Sarah a farewell and shut my mouth, waiting for the storm. He stirs, eating another bite of his sandwich. 

“So you came to apologize, huh?”

I swallow, “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry for my inappropriate behavior. I had one too many yesterday.”

He nods, “Yeah you were practically falling out of that top of yours before you took Tommy upstairs. Surprised you didn’t have it off before then.”

My eyes widen, “Well that’s humiliating.”

“Don’t think anyone was particularly mad about it,” He says, “Maybe one of those neighborhood watch moms, but who cares about ‘em?”

I can’t help but smirk. Was he insinuating that he wasn’t mad about almost seeing my boobs?

“Yeah, they always give me the most disgusted looks when I’m out jogging.”

“Cause’ they miss bein’ young and beautiful,” He explains, “All their husbands stare, too.”

I can’t believe he’s talking to me like this, I find myself leaning in a bit to try to talk quieter. It seems like this is conversation we should be whispering to each other.

“Do you stare?”

Foot. In. Mouth. 

He smirks, giggling a bit. I finally got to see him smile.

“Of course, I do.”

----

Hehehehe tell me what you think! I'll be back with part 2 soon!

[look-at-the-soul]

A night at Delux

Modern Tommy Shelby

Master list

Author’s notes: This story is for you, in no particular order @zablife @runnning-outof-time @red-riding-wood @teenwolf-theoriginals @justrainandcoffee @brummiereader I’ve had the main idea in my mind for weeks after driving past a luxury restaurant daily, I think it’d still haunt me if I didn’t write this one down lol… anyways I decided to a few names of lovely mutuals. This is a small nod to you all for the amazing work you do and in an attempt to cheer you up or anyone who might need it at the moment. If for whatever reason you feel down, without inspiration, worried, or anything else, know that it will pass. This particular moment that feels like too much won’t last forever ✨I just hope/wish you get what you are looking for. And to anyone else going through anything hard right now, this is for you too!

Ps. Don’t panic the fandom isn’t falling down, I just felt the need to dedicate this story to lovely mutuals to spoil and cheer them up a bit 🤗

Last but not least, extra 🌟 to @blondie-22 for creating this gorgeous moodboard!! 💖

Word count: 3,245

Friday night had been quiet compared to today, it seems like everyone decided to go out on Saturday and go to that club, as if there wasn’t enough options in the city.

Y/N swallowed hard feeling worried, this was her second weekend working at the club and she wanted to give a good first impression and save as much money as possible.

Her other job as secretary paid for the rent and services, but she needed to have this second one on the weekends to support her grandmother and her medicines.

As the hostess, she was requested to wear a total black outfit, so she thought her little black dress was the right choice, it was fitting for her shape, it wasn’t too revealing or short and one of the girls, Red had suggested spraying some lidocaine on her feet to be able to stand all night in those heels. She quickly adapted well to the group of girls that worked there, they were all so nice to her and welcoming.

“Ready? I’ve an amazing list prepared.” Lee, one of the girls walked past her, ready to take her place at the DJ booth.

“Last week was hectic, I’ve a feeling this will be crazier.” Y/N expressed fiddling with the guest list for the night.

“Here, drink this.” Brummie, another of the girls came closer placing a glass next to Y/N. After a week, Y/N learned the reason for that nickname was her strong Brummie accent even after all the years she left the place.

“Go easy on the drinks, she makes them strong.” K chuckled. She was the first one to welcome Y/N into their little girls-gang as they called themselves. The only ladies working in a place owned by men.

“Doors opening in ten.” The manager advised, taking one more look at the place, waiters were ready. “Make tonight a good night everybody.”

Lee started playing the music then, experimenting with some new beats, she mixed a couple of the new hits. Lights down, Y/N took a deep breath, approaching the door.

“They better leave good tips tonight.” Red raised her eyebrows. She was in charge of promos, she was great at convincing people to order another round of shots, or if it was ladies night and they got 2x1 on special drinks.

“We’re in your hands Red.”

“I’ll do my best ladies.” She replied through the device they shared to communicate.

“Alright, it’s about time.” Y/N rolled her neck. “Lee, we’ve a party of six tonight, celebrating a bachelorette, could you include some anthems?”

“Absolutely darl.” Lee then turned up the volume of the music.

“If someone sees that baker, let me know?” Rose appeared then at the bar, she had been hiding in the office, she was in charge of detecting any potential trouble from the monitors.

“Sweetheart, everyone knows he’s not a baker.” Lee informed her, talking about Alfie.

“I haven’t seen him, so I wouldn’t know.” Y/N called from her place.

“Oh he’s just the most handsome man ever.” Rose swooned.

Y/N chuckled, the club would be the last place where she’d find love, she just knew that. Walking towards the door, the guard opened it for her.

She started searching for the name she was given in the guest list. A group of girls wearing exaggerated make up and deep cleavage plus the shortest skirts or dresses where the firsts ones to make it in. She was totally against it, but it was an unwritten rule to let people in, the more skin, the better.

But she wasn’t there to judge anyone, let the girls dress as they preferred, in the end she wasn’t the one getting wasted and dragged in the end of the night to throw up outside. She was there just for the money. Another table was filled by three men, they were older and dressed in button shirts with ripped jeans, as if it was an uniform for them.

Y/N thought how it was funny to try to guess their backgrounds, where they came from and with whom they might leave the club. She was just trying to make the time pass faster.

In no time, the club was packed, but outside there was still a bunch of people trying to make it.

People tried to give Y/N money to get in, some were even rude to her but the guards took charge into the matter and invited them to leave.

“I made a reservation, could you check again?” The young guy requested politely.

Y/N started reading the names again, but by the corner of her eye, she caught someone skipping the line. “Ah, excuse me? Sir?”

The man who was already by the door, turned around slowly, opening the zipper of his jacket. His death stare made Y/N feel a shiver running down her back.

“There’s a line you’ve to make and wait.” Three more men arrived and stared at her with amused expressions. “Name?”

The man blinked and rolled his tongue over his lower lip. “Shelby. But you won’t find my name there, love.” Y/N saw him stopping the three other men with his hand.

“Then you’ll have to wait in the queue.”

For an instant, his expression was so transparent and Y/N knew he was offended.

“I’m sorry, but I’m just following orders.” She apologized and shuddered under his intense blue irises.

“Oi!” One of them, the one with a mustache tried to step closer.

“Arthur, leave it, we’re going to follow this lovely lady’s order and wait.” He then turned to face her again. “Accept a sincere apology for trying to get in.” He then winked.

The well dressed men followed his instructions and stepped back. Then she focused on the next people on the guest list, guiding them inside.

Barely a minute went by when Lucas, the manager grabbed her by the arm, dragging her inside in a blunt movement that made her go alert.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Lucas snapped, spit flying from his mouth. “You left the Shelby brothers outside! The fucking owners of this place.”

Just as Lucas was explaining Y/N her mistake , Tommy walked behind her, with his brothers following his steps.

“That was a first Tommy.” John grinned. “The first woman who doesn’t let you walk in as the owner of the place, and you did nothing.”

John was definitely having fun at Tommy’s expense. Arthur couldn’t help the smirk on his lips, but he tried to hide it behind his hand.

“Yeah, yeah she was only doing her job.” Tommy tried to excuse the hostess.

There was something that took him by surprise and startled him.

“And you walked back to the queue like a dog with the tail between the legs.” John went off again.

Tommy dragged his eyes across the club, he needed to know more about her. So he walked towards the bar.

“The usual Mr. Shelby?” Brummie asked her boss from behind the bar, he always waited to be served at his table.

Slowly, he posed his eyes on her, considering his options. “Please.” He replied then, clearing his throat.

“Here you go, I’ll take the other drinks up in a second.”

“Thank you.” With a nod, he turned his back at her and slowly strolled across the club. Although he had security, he always checked his surroundings.

After a while, he found the manager. “Lucas, come here.” Patting him on the back, Tommy asked him about the hostess, she was just passing by in that very moment, but Tommy noticed the quick glance she threw at him.

“Again, I’m sorry it happened Mr. Shelby, she’s new but it won’t repeat.”

“No problem.” He added calmly. “What do you know about her?”

Lucas shook his head, he didn’t care about the staff personal life. “Not much, but I’ll investigate her.”

In that moment, Tommy’s eyes found her, arms linked with the girl in charge of the checking the credit cards records.

“Damn it, I made a huge mistake, I’m so so done.” Y/N cried in a low voice. Worry written all over her face.

“What did you do?” Rose squeezed her shoulder.

“I didn’t know it was him.” She babbled. “I asked Mr. Shelby and his brothers to wait in line for their turn to get a fucking table.” Y/N explained over the music.

Rose stared at her for a split second and then bursted into an incontrolable laugh. “No you didn’t!”

“I did Rose! I did… and now he’s going to fire me.”

But she kept laughing. Trying to take a deep breath she sent their chat group a message urging the other girls to meet in the back.

You’re not gonna believe what Y/N did, she’s a hero! - she announced proudly.

“I can’t imagine the face he put on, must’ve gone like a stone.” Rose pinched her arm playfully.

Lee programmed a couple of songs to play automatically, Brummie left the bartender in charge while she claimed a quick bathroom trip. Red rushed the guys on the table to pay her for their drinks and tip.

As the group gathered in the back, they we waiting eager to hear what had happened.

“Our newest friend here, made the boss wait in line to get a table.” Rose announced ceremonially, pointing at Y/N.

She wasn’t trying to make fun of her, just trying to have a moment to relax.

Y/N groaned mortified, she kept shaking her head. Overthinking of what would happen.

“Nice way to get the Shelby’s attention.” Red pointed at Y/N with a smile, enjoying the teasing.

“Can we ask for the CCTV footage?” K asked. “I want to see him in the line.”

“I was looking for you,” Isiah one of the blinders appeared suddenly, “ladies how are you doing? Y/N… Mr. Shelby wants to see you.”

A chorus of ohhh’s from the girls filled the space.

Then, the girls started cheering on her.

“There she goes.” K sighed.

“Do you think she’s in trouble?” Lee looked around the group.

“Well it depends…” Red crossed her arms. “Hopefully he’s in a good mood.”

“I doubt it to be honest.” Rose raised an eyebrow skeptically. “But maybe she knows how to tame the beast.”

“Oh oh, if there’s group meeting it means something happened?” Mia joined the girls, she asked permission to arrive later that day. She had some personal affair to attend.

K placed her hands on Mia’s shoulders. “You just missed the fun, but I’ll make a short version while we prepare some drinks.” They were both in charge of the bar.

“Last time we had an urgent meeting, Michael got arrested.” Mia remembered with a chuckle.

“Oh, this is better than that.” Red assured before going back to the crowded tables.

As Y/N followed Isiah, her heart was pounding, grabbing her phone she texted her friend, Heidi.

I think I messed up, BIG.

A quick answer appeared on her screen, in the background a themed photo illuminated the phone, beautiful shades of green reminded her of nature and hope, it was made by a really talented friend.

What happened?! Are you OK?

Yeah. No… I confused the owner of the club and asked him to wait outside and make the line!

Her phone buzzed again.

No way! Tell me how it goes.

If I don’t reply back he probably let me blind. Carries a peaky cap with a razor blade.

Y/N took a deep breath and checked her phone again.

Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be fine. Her friend encouraged back.

She just prayed to not mess it up again and start babbling, arriving at the private area where the Shelby’s were she quickly tried to fix her short hair and bangs.

“Good evening,” her voice was shaking, her legs and her heart, everything! “I’d like to apologize for what happened earlier, I’m new and didn’t know any of you.”

Her eyes landed one more time on who seemed to be the leader, those icy eyes boring into the deepest part of her. His lips were pursed in a tight line.

“It’s okay, love. Don’t worry.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Yeah, now me brother wants to find a way to speed the line up.” One of them explained, blowing his smoke towards the ceiling.

“John.” The man with the blue eyes warned. “Nevertheless, I’ve to thank you for keeping the line in check.”

His deep accent and the way he dragged each word gave her chills.

“Thank you, well that’s my job.”

“Here drink this.” Another of them, the one with a mustache offered her a glass. “To a very good job!”

The two youngest were whispering something and staring back at the leader.

“It’s alright, really.” Tommy assured her after seeing the fear in her eyes.

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” The one he called John a moment ago suggested.

“Again I’m really sorry.”

“Y/N is it?” He rolled his tongue over his lips after saying her name. “It’s alright.”

“Just so you know, I’m John, so you don’t mistake me again.” He had a huge grin on his face. “This is Finn, Michael and Arthur.” He started pointing out at everybody. “And that’s Tommy.”

“I won’t forget your names.” She repeated them mentally. “Enjoy your night, I’ll bring you another round.”

Y/N excused herself and went back to work. He was wearing a simple white shirt with a jacket and black jeans, but somehow he made it look effortlessly good. She was trying to focus on the people in the guest list instead of those eyes that reminded her of the most beautiful sky.

She smiled at a couple that walked past her dancing to the beat of the music.

A table next to her exploded in shouts and claps as K and Mia arrived with their shots and sparklers.

From the second floor, Tommy was watching her every move, eyes following her everywhere, studying her moves and the way she approached clients.

Arthur waved his hand in front of Tommy’s eyes after he didn’t listened to what he said.

“Tom? What do you think?”

Finn nudged John’s arm, tilting his head towards Tommy.

Tommy took a long puff of his cigarette, pretending to be part of their conversation.

“Hmm?”

“Earth calling Tommy.” John teased. “He’s still waiting outside in the queue.”

Shooting John a death stare, he asked Arthur to repeat himself.

“Shall we call some women up?”

“Whatever.” He cleared his throat and stood up making his way through the club.

Talking to security, they informed him they kicked out a customer that got noisy and aggressive, but other than that, it was a quiet night. Everything seemed to be under control, the place was packed, everyone wanted to get in, live the experience and have the status only Delux could offer. He knew it was the best club in town, many club owners tried to copy his place, but they all failed, they tried to copy the details that made his club unique, it screamed luxury and good taste.

Eyeing Y/N across the club, Tommy decided to walk towards her, she was focused on the list before her eyes, swaying her hips to the beat of the music, pouting her lips murmuring the words… he could only imagine how would them feel against his, while his fingers tangled in her short hair.

Before he could reach her, she then turned her back at him to walk in the opposite direction, but abruptly, she changed her mind and turned around again, bumping into Tommy’s chest in the process.

“Mr. Shelby! I’m really sorry.” He could tell she was mortified, embarrassed.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Tommy reluctantly took a step back.

Y/N hoped her voice wouldn’t crack. “Do you need something?” Battling her lashes slowly at him. “Can I take you your drinks upstairs?”

He was startled by her overwhelming beauty, under some kind of spell by her voice and smile. It had been so long since he felt so captivated by someone… Shaking his head slowly to clear his mind, but she thought he was saying no to her.

Taking that as her cue to leave, Y/N started walking away. “Well if you need anything, let me know.”

“Actually I do.” Tommy managed to say, making Y/N turn to face him once more.

Everything happened in a blink, he grabbed her by her face and kissed Y/N, not able to resist the desire any longer. But when she answered the kiss with the same eagerness and placed her hand on the back of his neck to pull Tommy closer he lost it.

Guiding Y/N towards the wall, he trapped her between it and his body.

Kissing her hard, he tilted his head to the opposite side, relieved to feel her matching his desire. Feeling one of his hands, brushing down from her waist to her hip and then down her leg, she added some pressure on his shoulders.

“Someone can come.” Y/N warned him breathlessly, his lips barely away from hers, just what was really necessary for her to speak.

“I don’t fucking care, I own this place.” Tommy told her right before kissing her again with passion.

Squeezing the flesh of her thigh and he felt as if he had whiskey injected in his veins.

Y/N moved her head back slightly, that left Tommy with his mouth hanging open in an almost sensual kiss that had just slipped away from him. Opening his eyes after the failed mission, he found her bitting her lower lip playfully.

His blue irises darkened under the dim light.

“I really need get back to work or my boss might fire me.” Y/N explained before stealing one more quick peck on his lips and bending down to free herself from him, left Tommy leaning against the wall with his heart pumping so fast that it felt like he was having a heart attack.

He chuckled quietly at her statement.

Going back up, he stood looking down at the people at the club, his eyes scanning the place until he found that pretty little thing that with just one kiss, made him feel more than anyone else.

Feeling som eking of pressure on 5e back of her head, Y/N turned around and lifting her eyes, she found Tommy staring at her from the second floor. Raising his glass at her, he added a wink.

Y/N felt her cheeks blushing and smile quickly spread on her lips. Checking the clock, she walked towards the door it was about time to not let anyone else in.

“Your lipstick is smeared dear.” Mia pointed out.

“Damn it, really?” Worryingly she went back to the bar, to check her reflection on the mirror behind all the booze bottles.

As the girls started to ask her what had happened, she got another message on her phone.

Think you can send me back to the line twice and get away with it twice? Meet me in my office once you’re done. -Your boss.

She gasped. He oozed trouble from every angle, the one that won’t let you get up from bed after several rounds.

He was practically the bad boy your grandmother warned you about.

✨ thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed a little spiced story 🔥

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[izgnanik-a]

Kicking off Pride month with some Ghoap?? 🫣

cw: mutual pining, light smut, heavy grinding, a bit of aftercare, ftm!Simon

// MDNII // Don’t like? Don’t read. //

The bar had been something of a hole in the wall for the lgbt+ youth for some time until it actually became something. Once a week, the event turned into something fruity, something to cater to the “gay youth”, but it was all just some sad excuse to get in more income.

Despite knowing that, they still showed up because it was a single day they could connect with their people.

So, having been a frequent to the club on the usual days, Simon decided to pay the door fee to get in on said youth days. The music had been playing unusually loud, spotlights and a disco ball on the dj booth swirling, the smell of vodka was pungent as he passed a group of drag kings laughing it up against the pinball machine.

A single slot machine sat against a wall of ceiling-to-floor mirrors, and the local winner of the mega-bux was scribbled on a piece of paper above it.

If you’d had sneezed, anyone would’ve passed by the building if it weren’t for the music and piercing lights through the blackout windows.

Simon didn’t know where to stand at the usual dead bar top, having to wait by the ATM by the bathrooms to get a drink. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, but being overwhelmed by something that wasn’t his usual Friday night — he was considering leaving.

He should’ve brought a friend, he thought to himself. But what good would that do him?

The whole point of him coming out was to make nice with someone he could take home. The last time he’d been able to have a clear enough mind to woo someone was months previous, his toys and hands had been enough but he missed physical contact, even from a stranger.

He couldn’t take home a stranger if there was a friend there he’d recognized.

So, he found himself sitting by the wall of mirrors where drag royalty were fixing their lashes, looking at their teeth to make sure there were no smudges of lipstick, and the crowd progressively grew past fire code violations.

The crowds gave wails when their favorite iconic songs had come on, moving to the dance floor to form crowd around themselves.

Simon didn’t think he was that kind of person. He enjoyed being spotlights in small groups; lunch dates with friends, movie nights, and even going to the fair. He sunk further in his seat as the liquor in his drink got thinner, ice cubes melting it down.

He returned his glass to the bar to grab another. Eyes flitting to the drink menu above the bar, he missed the body hovering to his right, a hair’s distance from his shoulder.

The stumble of the crowd brought them together, and Simon’s ribs meshed with the high bar top.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Said the stranger, patting Simon’s back softly before stepping off.

Simon looked up at the brute, and good god — he was beautiful. Blue eyes, pierced brow, lean, tanned, and tall. Everything Simon could want to be, and to be with.

He must’ve caught Simon’s blatant stare, because he was looking back. Giving a polite smile, and swayed in his step. “I hope you didn’t think I shoved into you on purpose.” Said the Scotsman. “I’d think up a better pick-up line than trying to spill a drink on you.”

Hitting on me? Simon blinked. All he could think of was TV static. The guy probably thought he was stupid for just staring at him, not saying a thing.

The bartender approached, and if Simon had been staring at the board instead of this man’s face, he’d know what he wanted.

“I’ll have the Regina, and whatever else this one wants,” he gestured towards Simon, “I owe it for bumping into you.”

Simon collected enough brain cells to look up at the menu, and utter the words of some gay icon gospel drink they’d had, the Leslie, or something. It was put before him with a pineapple and tropical umbrella.

The man smiled as he paid for the tab, and collected his drink with a sip. “Mm. Have a good night bud.” Patting Simon once more on the back, he turned for the crowd and walked towards the patio doors.

Simon grabbed his drink, having no interest in actually drinking it, and slinking in the direction of the patio doors. He hadn’t talked to a single person all night, and this beautiful man had shown him an ounce of attention. He heeled like a dog, watching through the blackout windows as the man came to the side of a group of smokers, giving them a smile and sipping his drink.

Of course he’d come with people, Simon thought. Someone like that would.

Left to cradle his drink alone again, Simon slumped to the cushioned seats across from the dance floor, sitting with his elbows on the table under the low light.

Simon wondered if he should’ve just gone home. At the bottom of his second cup, he twiddled the tropical umbrella in his fingers as the music picked up again.

When wandering eyes had glazed over his, he looked down in avoidance. He didn’t want just anyone coming up to him. Though there were few, none compared to the beauty who’d bumped into him and bought him a drink. He was left high and dry, and still wanted to know his name at least.

Simon contemplated it, and he was going home. It was final. He collected his empty glass, umbrella between his lips, and left his glass on the bar top. When he turned for the door, he watched the patio doors come open and the crowd shuffle in. That blue eyed devil following.

Simon watched in awe as the crinkles by his eyes only made him more attractive, he couldn’t have been much older than Simon; late 20’s? Simon thought. With his hand on the door handle to head out, his eyes caught those blue ones, and Simon felt all giddy again.

The man paused as he passed, arm’s reach from Simon. “Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Say something cool. Simon thought to himself. He leaned his elbow up against the push doors, “Not my cup of tea.” He shrugged.

The man nodded. “It was good to see you.” He held up his hand to fist bump.

Who was this man to treat Simon like an old pal? Simon bumped his fist and gained a smile out of it.

“Get home safe.” The man said to him, pointing, and turning for the bar with his friends.

Simon, gobsmacked, was taken by the door opening and excused himself as he walked past the people in the doorway.

He came with a task at hand and left with nothing. Completely outwitted by a pretty man with blue eyes.

The following week, when Simon didn’t have luck with the usual cis crowd, he headed back to the gay youth event at the bar. His eyes searching the dance floor and patio for that same blue eyes man who’d been sent for him, and didn’t find him. He sat at the bar this time, looking at each customer who approached, and none of them were him.

Simon had rum and coke in hand when a gentle pat against his back jostled him. He looked up to the recipient, that blue eyed man had walked up on him while he was lost in thought.

“Hey. Didn’t think I’d see you again.” He said, giving Simon’s nape a squeeze before releasing him. “How are you?”

Chills ran down Simon’s spine where his warm palm had grazed him.

“Get anything good?” He pulled himself into the stool beside Simon, leaned up against the sticky bar top with no hesitation.

Simon needed to play it cool, despite the red in his ears growing hotter. “Rum and coke.”

The man grimaced. “That’s it?” He withheld a chuckle.

Simon puffed his chest up. “Is that a problem?“

He put his sizable hands up, thick fingers and manicured nails drawing themselves into Simon’s memory. “No problem. I’m just a whiskey man myself.”

The heaviest drink Simon could get without any consequences was a 13% alcoholic wine that was near half a take-away meal’s cost. But even one drink was testing it. The coke and watered down rum was nothing.

“Well, whiskey-man, surely you can enjoy it quietly.” Simon quipped.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Pushed back the man.

Simon watched him lean up in his chair to speak to the bartender, reading their lips to confirm, and sat back in his seat. He had a cool aura about him as he spread himself out while Simon kept tightly in his seat.

The man held his hand out, palm up, towards Simon finally. “John MacTavish. My friends call me Johnny.”

Simon didn’t think he looked like a Johnny, didn’t think he even looked like a John. But he wanted to paint a pretty picture of this man, so Johnny would have to do. “And where are your friends, John?”

Johnny smiled, hand still extended out. “I could introduce them to you, if you’d like. Do you smoke?”

Simon had a few puffs of a smoke once or twice when he was in uni, and some endless day when he couldn’t sleep during bootcamp, but he wasn’t a social smoker. So he had no idea why he said “yeah.”

He was following Johnny out to the patio like a pup on a leash, holding the door for passing people, and coming to stand at the patio table by a collection of people.

Johnny introduced them singularly, and in pairs. He’s hers, they’re his, and they’re together — all those things. When it came time to introduce Simon, however, Johnny was at a loss.

“What’s your friend’s name again?” Asked one of Johnny’s mates, holding a cigarette between his fingers.

Johnny turned to Simon, and raised his brow. “He’s very secretive, actually.” He teased.

Simon looked to his friends who ooh’ed and ahh’ed.

“We love a good mystery.” Said one of Johnny’s non-binary friends, leaned up against their partner.

Johnny straddled the bench as he sat, gazing up at Simon from the promising height. “Sit, join us.”

Simon felt his nerves fire again when Johnny smiled. He sat in the bench, like a normal person, while Johnny remained facing him, practically bracketing Simon between his massive thighs.

Johnny was all types of fit, just enough for Simon to bite onto his skin and pull at it with his teeth, like a dog with a toy.

While Johnny’s friends were immersed in conversation, Johnny wasn’t one to butt in and speak. He just sat, admiring his friends, sipping his drink, and occasionally glancing towards Simon.

Simon’s knee began to hop just thinking about this man beside him. How he’d greet him kindly every time, give him flirty little gazed and smirks. Comments that were deliberately provocative, pushing back when Simon would be bratty. He was all kinds of hot.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Johnny’s whisper in his ear made him turn his head, realizing he’d leaned in until his chest was up against Simon’s shoulder. His head turned behind Simon’s so he’d have to turn cheek to cheek to hear him proper.

Meeting Johnny gaze was a mistake, because the Brit was nodding blindly, following to stand.

“Going for a walk.” Johnny gestured for a smoke, and one of his buddies gave him their cigarette box and lighter.

Johnny and Simon abandoned their drinks in favor of walking through the lot. Simon didn’t know what he was doing, what was originally supposed to be him finding someone to bring home and fuck turned out to be yearning for this man. This stranger.

Johnny took a cigarette from the box before holding one out to Simon. Compelled, Simon watched Johnny light his first, watching the coveted glow of flames light his face under the night sky. He took the offered lighter from Johnny, finger tips grazing his, and lit his own smoke.

They leaned up against unknown cars, taking puffs between silenced stares.

Johnny took a puff before speaking. “You alright?”

Simon furrowed his brow around the filter, fingers touching his lips.

“You anxious?” Johnny asked, and when the bewilderment grew, he spiked again. “Leg bouncing, and lip chewing. I’ve seen enough people to know when your heads too full on thoughts.”

Simon sighed smoke through his nose. “It’s nothing.”

Johnny hummed. His eyes panned to the starlit sky, and back towards Simon. “You know, I didn’t think you’d be back. I thought maybe it’s the drinks, but they’re shit. No one really likes them unless they’re plastered.”

“Are you saying I have other motives of being here?” Simon’s nerves kicked in again. He felt himself shaking with adrenaline. He wanted this man on him.

“You said it’s not your cup of tea. So what are you doing here?”

Simon regretted even trying to be cool. Surely this man didn’t think he was a cis guy just trying to get a few free drinks, he wasn’t that pretty.

Johnny eyed him, almost at the end of his cigarette.

Simon wished it would go in forever, that they could stray from the club and stay in this spot alone. Even in silence, despite Simon burning inside. He couldn’t spend another week waiting to see this man again.

“You know,” he pinched his cigarette between his fingers. “You’re one to talk. I mean, really. You greet me like we’re old pals, and buy me drinks. I’d say you have anterior motives, MacTavish.” Simon pointed at him briefly, a coy smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he stepped closer. “Even thought to share a smoke with me, all alone in this lot, where no one but the drivers can see.” He tut his tongue at the taller man. “Do you think you’re so well kept?”

Johnny only stared at him with lowered lids, taking a puff before putting it out under his boot. “I was actually quite transparent with you from the start. You were too focused on the drink menu to even notice me crossing the bar for you.”

Simon sputtered, all functions lost, traction making him lose his focus on the race. He stared at Johnny’s smug face.

“I didn’t think you even wanted anything to do with me, considering you didn’t interact with anyone that first night.” Johnny put his hands on his buckle, leaning back against the car. “Just sat down with your drink most of the night.”

When Simon had thought he was being perceptive, he was just plain blind. He blinked at Johnny, near eye level with him leaned down now, and his cigarette had burned down to near filter.

Johnny cleared his throat, pinching the cigarette from between his fingers, bringing it to his own lips. He took a drag as he stared into Simon’s eyes, and huffed it aside. “If that’s not your cup of tea, then I apologize for even saying so.”

Simon kickstarted from his shock to take the cigarette from Johnny’s lips, bringing it to his own to finish, and stomped it under his heel. With his exhale, he blew it over Johnny’s face softly.

Johnny shut his eyes and relished in the whisper of breath over his face. He reopened his eyes and Simon leaned his palms against the car, bracketing Johnny in. “Yeah?” Johnny gave a teasing smirk. “You wanna be a big man now?”

Simon’s face hovered over Johnny’s, forehead grazing Johnny’s Mohawk as he stared into his eyes. He felt Johnny’s hands circle his hips, massive hands stroking up his waist to his ribs. He was rippling with chills, sighing a breath over Johnny’s lips.

“Come on, big man,” Johnny teased. “Show me what you’ve got.”

When Simon’s mouth met Johnny’s, he tasted like smoke and bourbon with a hint of vanilla. He was rough with his hands as he lapped at Simon’s tongue with care, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before dragging Simon into his body.

Simon felt the heat overtake him as Johnny groped his ass, mouthing along his chin to his jaw and throat. Simon didn’t realize he was relinquishing his position of power until he was gasping against Johnny’s tongue on his throat. Sucking soft bruises along his pulse and ear, Simon collected himself by pulling Johnny’s hair back.

He gained a hiss of pain from Johnny, lips reflecting with spit under the starlit sky. Simon wanted on him again. “Are you going to just keep kissing me or are you going to actually fuck me?” Simon huffed.

Johnny only smiled. “I thought the kissing was pretty hot. I didn’t know we were going to fuck. I would’ve brought protection.”

Simon nearly died to those words.

“I could eat you out.” Johnny offered. “But I’m not doing it in a car.”

The front door to Simon’s apartment was sticky and had to be shouldered open sometimes, but Johnny didn’t seem to care as he was tonguing Simon down against the door. They’d finally gotten in and nearly slammed the door off its hinges.

Johnny kissed Simon’s neck again, grinding against him as he brought his leg up to his hip. “God. Where do you want-“

“The couch.” Simon uttered between tears of Johnny’s teeth against his lips.

They dragged each other to the worn couch, and Johnny was tugging Simon over him. With his hands tight in his clothes, Simon didn’t realize he was grinding into the man’s stomach until he was practically giggling against his mouth.

Simon looked down at him in confusion, and Johnny waved his hand at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He insisted as he rubbed his hands up and down Simon’s thighs. “This is nice.”

Nice? Nice?? Simon was spiraling. This man was shoving his tongue down Simon’s throat, holding his thigh the entire drive over to his house, and this was nice??

Johnny smiled up at Simon, hot hands resting on his thighs. “Did I ruin it?”

Simon pressed his palms into the couch at his sides. “Yeah.”

Johnny blew a breath from his lips. “Smooth.” He told himself. “I was just thinking how we shared a cigarette and then had our first kiss.”

“Is that what you were thinking?”

Johnny hummed.

“Getting hung up on the first kiss?”

He smirked as he hummed again.

“That’s a new low.”

“Lowest bar you’ve ever seen?”

“Hard yes.”

Johnny hummed as he walked his hands up Simon’s thighs to his hips. “I liked that grind we had going before.”

“Yeah?” Simon leaned over Johnny’s face, holding the couch above his head.

“Yeah.” Johnny sighed against his mouth as he kissed him, softly this time as Johnny maneuvered his hips how he liked.

The grind of Simon’s hips against Johnny wasn’t scratching the itch that he needed. Needing just an edge to get that right spot. Simon shifted his hips towards Johnny’s hip, catching against his hip bone, and practically breaking the moment his jeans pressed against him in the most delightful ways.

Simon hummed and whined into Johnny’s mouth, rubbing until he felt faint, like he could cum in his pants right there. But that wasn’t the point of bringing Johnny back — no. Johnny said he wanted to eat him out since he didn’t bring a condom to fuck him.

But there was an obstacle to be hurdled.

Johnny’s wandering hands clasped themselves to Simon’s ass, grinding him a little firmer against his side, and all thoughts left Simon.

Simon trembled in his grip, gasping in his ear as Johnny pressed their cheeks together. He groaned and moaned, desperately writhing under Johnny’s direction. Shushing him sweetly when his hips stuttered against him.

“That’s it. Good boy. Cum for me, won’t you?” Johnny gazed down at Simon drooling against his shoulder, combing a hand over his cheek. “Nice and slow for me. Of course you needed something to grind up against. To make you feel better. Poor thing.” He cooed softly. “Cum for me. Be sweet for me and cum, using me as a toy to get off.”

His words amplified Simon’s bubbling orgasm, and he wanted his hands in his pants already. But his orgasm was climbing, and he needed an out. He shoved his face deeper into Johnny’s neck as a ghastly grunt escaped him, chills running down his body as he came in his briefs, followed by heavy panting.

Johnny’s soft assuring strokes through his hair made him float off in consciousness. “Good boy. You did so well. Good boy.” He soothed kisses along Simon’s shoulder that had him making soft pleased noises with every breath.

Simon could fall asleep like this. In another person’s arms, cradled by warmth and softness. He should be embarrassed for cumming so easily in his pants to just grinding against someone’s hip. God. He could feel the shame rising slowly in him.

Did Johnny want to leave? Was he only comforting Simon because he was crushing him to the couch? Did he think Simon owed him because of it? Was this awkward now?

Johnny’s hand cupped the back of his neck, gently scratching his nape, and his tension eased. “I’ll leave if you want me to, but for now, we can just lay here like this. Don’t even have to say a word.”

The reassurance was nice, and Simon didn’t know if he wanted the man to leave him. He was comfortable and warm, but Simon feared looking him in the eyes again and having to relieve such a horrible sexual situation.

Simon’s whole plan was to use someone to get off, to have a fraction of time with someone again. So why did this feel off?

Simon opened his eyes abruptly, not realizing he’d fallen asleep from the languished touched to the back of his neck to the warmth Johnny’s body gave off. His panic ebbed when he realized he was alone in his apartment, and the lights had been shut off.

Sitting up in the dark, he sighed as he searched for his phone to find that it was well past midnight. He didn’t remember when he’d left the club, but it must’ve been early night considering the moon hadn’t even crossed the middle of the sky yet.

A sticky note bumped his fingers as he glanced at his phone, and he stared in confusion. Reaching for the light switch behind the couch, he blinked at the pack of sticky notes on the coffee table with a pen from his knitted basket.

xxx xxxx -Johnny, thank you for tonight, call me ;)

Simon was livid.

This man had a heavy make-out session with him, let him grind against his body like some horny teenager, and soothed him to sleep by scratching and kissing his body. Only to shuffle away in the night, leaving a note like a lovesick Cinderella who had to return to his life.

Simon sat up, feeling the moisture from his briefs clinging to him. Sticky note left to haunt him, he wiped himself clean and fell back into bed.

Next chapter

Fic masterlist

[sushiwriterhere]

foggy

summary: "Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were lightly fogged, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them."  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: bob floyd x f!reader word count: ~2.9k warnings: idiots pining, car sex (lol), hangman being hangman, no use of y/n.  notes: Inspired by me thinking about Bob's glasses getting all fogged up. y'all i wish i could apologize for this but all i can think abt is this man and how someone once said they wanna chew on him like a polly pocket.. anyways please let me know what you think ! no beta we die like men tagging: @sebsxphia @theharddeck - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like luv bob soooo pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed

You were usually far more behaved than this, really. You paid attention in your classes, did your work, showed up on time to your job–kept it all together. But there was something about him, about Bob, that just made that tiny part of you want to be reckless. And he had no idea. 

There he was, along with the rest of the group like every Friday, sitting and watching them play pool. They’d hoot and holler, order drink after drink, and he’d sit and laugh along with his peanuts and his Shirley Temples or lemonades. And it made you want to jump his bones.

It was a smidge ironic that as a bartender his non-alcoholic drink choices were part of what got you going, but what could you say? A man of multitudes and contradictions was appealing, and Bob was just that. Best weapons system operator around, shy as all hell, and damn smart. He always tipped generously, never put his phone on the bar, and had interrupted more than one creep on a mission to try and ruin your Friday night (flirting is for tips, not for keeps!). 

But any time you tried to move it past your brief interactions, he always slipped away. You figured it wasn’t necessarily on purpose— he seemed to be friendly otherwise, just probably not interested. So you resigned yourself to the occasional small chat when making drinks or he came in while the Hard Deck was a bit less noisy—and ever so often, finishing while imagining just what it would feel like to have his body pressed up against yours. 

And this Friday began like every other. You came in right as lunch ended, and busied yourself with prepping more limes than you ever wanted to see again in your life. There were glasses to be stacked, napkins and straws to be refilled, and liquors to be restocked. Patrons would start trickling in around 5 or 6, with the majority starting to filter in around 8, clearly coming from dinner or work. By 9, the Hard Deck would be packed to the brim with fighter pilots and other people from the nearby base. 

Your favorite fighter pilots would make it in at 8:45 pm every Friday, like clockwork. They’d take over the pool table with a direct eyeline to the bar, and stay till the early hours of the morning, sometimes till closing. Rooster usually bought the first round if the weather was nice, Hangman would when the weather was shit. More than once you’d tried to discern a pattern beyond that, but they seemed to have some sort of system. 

Bob would always buy his own drinks. 

He’d make his way to the bar, smiling gently at you and waiting patiently while you fielded other customers. Then he’d place his drink order and ask for a refill on his cup of peanuts, and stand there humming something to himself while you poured him a drink. Tips came in cash, straight into your palms and always paired with a soft smile that made your knees weak and your pulse hammer.

Tonight was no different. He ordered his lemonade and handed you cash with a warm smile before returning to what appeared to be an increasingly hostile and heated game of pool. Sitting on the sidelines, he seemed to just be content observing the madness. 

When Hangman approached the bar during a momentary lull, you expected it to be for another round. Except he leaned over the counter conspiratorially, and crooked a finger at you to beckon you closer. 

“I have a secret to tell you, only it’s not really a secret.” He had a coy smile on his face like he was about to tell you he’d taken a cookie from the cookie jar. 

You really wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you had to admit sometimes Hangman was entertaining and you figured your shift would at least be somewhat more lively with his antics. So you just shifted closer to him while maintaining an eye on the bar in case someone needed anything. 

“Do tell.”

He pointed a finger back towards the game of pool just as Rooster sunk a shot and Phoenix high-fived him, “You see Bob over there?”

You narrowed your eyes. You definitely didn’t like where this was going. While Hangman was all huge ego on the outside, you knew he wasn’t really like that on the inside, so it made you suspicious that he was deciding to pick on Bob. Usually it was all in good fun, but you had a soft spot for Bob and you really didn’t want to be caught up in any hurtful gossip.

“Play nice in my bar, Bagman.” You said, scrubbing a bit more aggressively at the countertop than you meant to.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m playing very nice, I’m being a wingman instead of Hangman tonight.” Wingman? “Bob over there, has a very big and bad crush on a certain someone.” 

You hoped this was some sort of prank, because Hangman had one perfectly manicured finger pointing at you. You felt your face go bright red. 

“That’s not playing nice.” God, why was this happening? 

It was one thing to harbor your little crush on Bob, to let yourself check him out while you were sure he wasn’t looking, it was another to have Hangman mock you by telling you that Bob liked you back. 

“He really thinks he’s being subtle,” Hangman continued as if he hadn’t heard you speak, “But he refuses to let us buy his drinks whenever we’re buying a round just so he can talk to you. I swear he spends more time up here or staring at you than he does hanging out with us.”

Saved by a customer, you let your attention drift away from Hangman and what he’d said to you. Even though he lingered, leaning on the bar, you tried not to focus on him. 

What did he mean Bob had a crush on you? That couldn’t be possible. A few weeks prior you had almost asked Bob out to dinner after not charging him for his drink, hoping that that would be enough to start a bit of flirting. 

Instead the WSO had placed enough cash to cover his drink and a very generous tip on the bar and stammered out something about needing to get back to the game of pool him and Rooster were losing. So you took that as your hint. 

Ever a patient asshole, Hangman was still there after you finished making drinks. Clearly being decently drunk wasn’t enough to keep him from being a pain. He just kept looking between you and Bob and not saying anything. 

“You’re scaring other customers.” You wanted this to end, the observation, you wanted to get out from under his knowing gaze.

He flicked a cherry stem at you, and without flinching proceeded to make you feel like you were officially the world’s least subtle person, “It’s not hard to see that you and Bob wanna jump each other’s bones, I think once you get it out of your system you’ll be perfect for each other. Just have to get over that first hurdle.”

And with that, Hangman walked himself back over to the rest of the group. You stood there in stunned silence trying to process exactly what just happened.

-

Like you said before, you were usually far more behaved than this. But nevertheless, you now found yourself pressed up against your car in the corner of the Hard Deck’s parking lot, Bob’s lips on yours and his hands on your waist. 

Anyone could see. Hangman or Rooster could step out for a breath of fresh air, maybe even a drunk cigarette (no one was allowed to tell Mav), and see you pulling Bob’s shirt out of his standard-issue khakis and running your hands over his stomach. You had always known he was hiding some serious muscle under his uniform. Someone could see you, weak in the knees for the quiet, but beautiful, Bob. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said quietly against your lips as you scratched at his back and trembled in his arms. “We shouldn’t–shouldn’t be doing this out in the open. You deserve better.”

Was it wrong that him being so respectful made you want him to ruin you all that more? What you wouldn’t give to be in your, or his, apartment right now, protected by four walls and free to strip and see all of him. But for now, you’d have to take the cards you were dealt. 

Grasping behind yourself, you yanked the back door handle against yourself, feeling the door give against you and open slightly. You pushed Bob off you gently, just enough to pull the door open and grab his collar to pull him into the car with you. He made a choked off sound, and you honestly weren’t sure if it was because of you grabbing his shirt or if he was surprised. 

“Wait,” He managed, and you froze, “I... Will you sit in my lap?”

You were going to die, here and now, with him almost hovering over you, his eyes wide and pleading. For a moment, time seemed to turn into something syrupy as he slid fully into the car, shut the door, and pulled you into his lap. 

You both sat there for just a moment, panting and staring at each other. Maybe you owed Hangman an apology for doubting his wingman skills, but you weren’t sure you wanted to inflate his ego more than it already was. 

However, he did deserve some credit. After he had dropped that bomb on you, Bob had come over and asked if you were alright, claiming he’d give Hangman a talking-to about whatever he said that had clearly upset you. You just stood there staring at him, until he started to squirm slightly under your gaze. 

It was in that moment you had blurted out, “I have a crush on you.”

He had stared at you for a split second before he whispered, so quietly you weren’t even sure you were supposed to hear it, “Oh my god, I want to kiss you so badly.” 

It had taken everything in you not to drag him across the bar and press your lips into his. Instead, you managed to tell him that you had your thirty minute break in five minutes, and to meet you in the parking lot by your car. It was probably the most reckless thing you had ever done.

So that was how you ended up in the backseat of your car, Bob’s tongue running along the seam of your lips, whining slightly when you opened your mouth to feel his tongue glide over your teeth. You could tell he had his feet firmly planted on the floor by the steady rhythm of his hips against yours. That part of his actions seemed so confident, so assured in comparison to the slight tremor in his hands against your hips, but you wanted him to let loose a little, show you just how much he wanted you. 

The car rocked gently with your movements. He was panting as his forehead leaned against yours, and he let out a particularly high pitched whine as you grabbed him by the back of the neck to force your lips together again.

“Been thinking about this, about you,” he ground out as you both pulled away again to catch your breaths, “See you every Friday and Hangman, ah, Hangman makes fun of me.” 

You groaned at his confession and twisted your hands into his neatly combed hair. Honestly, you couldn’t judge his hesitancy, for god’s sake you thought he barely liked you as a friend. Plus, you’d firmly asked more than one patron to leave when they tried to be too forward. Bob was never too forward. 

“Been, fuck! Been, trying to be a gentleman.”

You didn’t want him to be a gentleman, you wanted him to ruin you. Grabbing his wrists, you shoved them under your shirt and sighed as he got the message, rubbing your nipples over your bra. 

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, rolling your hips against his more firmly. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered as his lips marked a path down your neck, mouthing at your collarbone as he tugged the collar of your shirt to the side.

“Bob...” You could feel the heat in your stomach building, the familiar tingle in your fingers.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” With one hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles, and the other dipping into your bra, the flood of physical sensations was almost too much. 

You moaned into his mouth and shuddered against his grip, raking your hands through his hair and feeling just how much he liked the sensation of your nails scraping against his scalp when the rhythm of his hips stuttered.  

When you came it felt like a star bursting in your chest, everything went fuzzy around the edges as he rocked you in his lap and you rode out your orgasm. It felt like Christmas morning, your birthday, and every party all rolled into one. You shuddered as he kept your hips moving against his, clearly close. 

But you would have none of that.

Still trembling from your own release you unbuttoned his khakis with shaking hands and reached in to grasp him. He stared down at your through lightly fogged up glasses, clearly shocked. 

“Fuck, wait, are you sure—!” Was all he managed to get out before you were on your knees, doing your damndest to swallow him down.

He came with a choked shout, one hand on the back of your head and the other clawing at the worn leather of your seats, grasping for something, anything to keep him tethered. For a moment you stayed on your knees, reveling in the feeling of what had just happened. 

He was a fucking vision from this angle. His usually perfectly done haired was wild from you running your hands through it, his khakis were haphazardly open and his softening cock was laying against his stomach where you had rucked his shirt up. Breathing wild, his chest rose and fell quickly, and his fingers resting on the seat twitched in a matching rhythm to the ones in your hair.

Perhaps most tantalizing of all were his glasses–their lenses were fogged up, but you could still almost see his wide eyes behind them. 

You wished you had a camera to capture the moment. 

The moment was broken when Bob reached down to pull you back into his lap and move his lips softly against yours. It took you a moment to register that he was whispering sweet nothings to you–a combination of thank you, and all sorts of compliments that made your chest ache. 

A sudden alarm sound made both of you turn in opposite directions at the same time, smacking your foreheads together. Suddenly any sexual tension had completely dissipated, replaced by both of you melting into laughter. Leave it to you and Bob to top off humping in your car like teenagers by giving each other concussions. 

“I need to get back to work.” You whispered as he inspected your forehead for any lasting injuries, “That was my alarm.”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, as if he was savoring your final moments together. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow? Do this part right?”

“I’d love that.”

-

You almost made it to closing without anyone noticing that you and Bob had both conveniently been gone for most of your meal break. But the crew crowding the pool table was far too observant for their own good. To his credit, Bob got himself almost fully back to his normal appearance, and you slipped into the bathroom to make sure you were presentable again. 

“You should say thank you to people who do nice things for you,” Hangman was back, toothpick hanging loosely from his mouth as he turned a sly grin in your direction, “I’ll take a beer in compensation, though.”

Pretending not to know what he could possibly mean, you continued to clean up. “Making sure all your cups are on the bar by closing is not exactly free beer material.”

He scoffed and stole another garnish, “You might think you’re slick but Bob’s been staring at you uninterrupted since you got back from your little break.”

“According to you he stares at me regardless.” Sorry, Bob.

“Yeah, but now he stares at you all mopey, which means you must’ve gotten the other stuff out of your system–”

You threw a piece of ice, the universe granting you with perfect aim for once, and watched as it hit his collarbone and slid down his shirt. He jerked backwards with a hiss. 

“Okay! Just take your beer and shut up.” Why did he have to be like this?

“Why thank you sweetheart, consider your debt settled.” With a wink, he was gone.

If you were honest with yourself, you probably would give Hangman a thousand free beers just to see Bob in the backseat, glasses foggy, and staring at you like you hung the moon. But he didn’t have to know that.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for almost getting a coworker fired?

I don't think genders are relevant here, and I'm not positive on everyone's ages (I'm 31, everyone else is in their 20-30s, that's as much as I know).

So, a few weeks ago I was scheduled to come in to cover one of the other shifts. I normally work Sat-Mon, but came in to cover someone who went on vacation on a Friday. This is relevant because the shift that works weekdays has a habit of ordering food on Fridays, and they usually have one of the associates, Paul, go pick up the food rather than paying extra to get it delivered. It's a group order, they always include me whenever I come in to cover, and we always repay the person who orders the food--which I mention to establish that I paid for my own food, it's not like I got free food and then turned around and reported someone.

Anyways, the conflict starts when, this particular night, I happen to notice that Paul left to go pick up the food, then came back with the food and then clocked out for lunch. The area we work in is pretty small, and the time clock is very visible: it's very obvious to see when people clock in and out, so I wasn't intentionally watching to make sure he clocked out, I just happened to notice. So, essentially, he drove to go pick up food while on the clock, which is very explicitly against the rules.

The next time I saw our supervisors (which was the next day, because our supervisors don't tend to stay for our whole shift and by the time this happened they were long gone), I let them know what happened, and a week later I hear from another coworker that Paul almost got walked out of the building, and that the only reason he still has a job is because our Manager fought to let him get a second chance.

The thing is, I knew it was a possibility that me telling my supervisors could have led to Paul losing his job. But in the end, he broke the rules, and drove off without clocking out, and then clocked out. He essentially got an extra long lunch while the rest of us still worked.

Also, additional info: I came in to cover another day just recently, and overheard Paul talking to the other coworkers about how he had to make sure he didn't "forget" to clock out for lunch again, but here's the thing: if he had just forgotten to clock out, he could have filled out a clock punch correction form to accurately reflect the time he was off, which he didn't do. And it's not like this is an isolated incident; I can't say I've ever noticed any of the coworkers on this shift doing this exact thing, but they're constantly talking about how they don't give a shit and they're constantly taking shortcuts and not actually doing their jobs. They frequently play COD on their phones, ignoring when we have work pop up, which usually leaves me to pick up the slack when I'm covering their shift. Now, I don't care about people being on their phones or whatever when there's downtime, what I do care about is when people focus on their phones and ignore work, thereby making other people have to do more work. Which is all to say, I really do have the sneaking suspicion that he did it intentionally, because the people on that shift don't seem to care about doing the right thing.

So, AITA for reporting him, knowing he could have lost his job from it? I'm torn because, like, on the one hand I feel like there's a degree of integrity that people should adhere to, and if people don't stick to things like making sure they're actually AT their job while on the clock, then it makes things worse for the people who DO stay. On the other hand it feels like I'm siding with the corporation against my coworker, which Feels Bad. Ultimately Paul still has his job, but he's on thin ice.

What are these acronyms?

[aechawrites]

200mph: part one | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

rating: pg13

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking and smoking, y/n is a little uncomfy but jimin stays with her like a good bff, brief mention of a racing accident

summary: as jungkook begins the new racing season, a face he’s never seen before quickly catches his attention.

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✏︎

“I don’t understand why you want me to go, you have guy friends that are interested in that kind of stuff, don’t you?”

“That’s not the point, Y/n. If I wanted them to go, I would’ve asked them by now, but I asked you.”

You sighed, slightly shaking your head at the begging boy in front of you while slowly making eye contact with the ground and lowering yourself onto the foot of your bed. Your arms were wrapped around your upper body and you couldn’t help but let out another huff, contemplating whether or not you should give him a bullshit excuse as to not go.

Jimin has been your best friend since you were young kids, meeting for the first time in elementary school. As you grew up, the two of you became inseparable, always spending time together. And on a typical day you would have loved spending your Friday night with him, that is, up until recently.

As the two of you began college back in the fall, you both started to branch out and try new things. You knew Jimin was going to fit right in with the frat boys and it was reassuring to have someone watch your back at their parties; it made them a little more bearable. What you did not expect was for Jimin to gain an interest in motorsports, specifically street racing.

You had heard him saying not too long ago that some of the guys in the frat house raced occasionally. 'Big money,' he said, but if only you knew just exactly how much those winners were getting paid, as well as the spectators who decided to bet on certain drivers.

The two of you had just gotten takeout and were lying in your dorm room while watching (and making fun of) random reality shows. You had gotten up to use the bathroom just to come back out and have Jimin spring onto you that there was a street race tonight and a couple of his frat brothers would be there racing.

And instead of going by himself and making friends like the social butterfly he is, he of course had to invite you.

Now here you were, brain working overtime trying to come up with some lame excuse to seem busy. But Jimin knew you weren't.

"Y/n, I promise you'll have a good time tonight. It's not as boring as you think. We'll only be there for an hour or two and then we can come back to the dorms," he expressed while softly pouting his lips at you.

"What's in it for me?"

Jimin rolled his eyes at you. "I'll finish your damn English paper, okay?"

Although still reluctant, you agreed to go. As long as this doesn't become a regular Friday night occurrence for you, how bad could it be? It also helped that he gave you the biggest eye smile after you said yes.

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You thought that maybe four to five people would be here racing, bringing a few friends each, but no. Not at all. In fact, the streets were packed like a full house. There had to have been roughly twenty guys standing alongside their expensive muscle cars, engines roaring loudly and echoing through the streets, wheels shining as camera flashes blinded them. There were also probably two hundred people who got their asses up to come out tonight to see these men race. The atmosphere seemed similar to some of the parties you had been to, so it was to no surprise that it garnered a large viewing.

But putting it simply, you were intimidated. It was very crowded and here you were being dragged behind Jimin as he tried to get the two of you closer to the front where the start/finish line was located. Was it really necessary for these large muscular men to keep giving you side eye as you bumped into them?

Had it not been for the dozens of lights and neon signs hung up everywhere, the streets would have practically looked like a ghost town. There was nothing here, close to abandonment, which made for the perfect place. Old beer cans and ashes scattered the ground, you noted that they must have been racing here for a lot longer than you originally thought.

You brought your gaze up, looking around when you noticed there were cigarettes and blunts everywhere. Almost every guy here was either smoking or drinking, sharing with the girls who had draped themselves overtop of them. They were practically naked as they wore knee-high strappy stilettos and those short, skimpy skirts (the ones that stop just below their ass cheeks), paired with either a very cropped tank top, or a V-neck top that rested so low that their breasts would fall out any minute. It was almost impossible not to catch a glimpse of their lacey thongs as they wrapped their arms around the guys' shoulders. Although you knew those guys were enjoying the attention they got, the views being an added bonus.

But what were you wearing tonight? A t-shirt and jeans.

Did Jimin tell you about the unofficial "dress code" for this kind of event? Nope.

You wouldn't have dressed like them even if he had told you, but you also could've worn something even a slight bit more revealing than this! Even if it was a skirt that went mid-thigh along with a tighter top!

You felt a nudge on your shoulder, breaking your train of thought and gaze away from the crowd and closing back on Jimin. His hand was on your elbow as he pulled you closer, leaning down to your ear and started yelling, but you could still barely hear him over the blasting music. "The race is about to start; my pick is Jeon."

"I guess I'll go with him then, too," you said as you smiled back up at him. The two of them had been good friends for a while, so what better choice?

You had heard of Jeon Jungkook, even seeing him around a few times when partying with Jimin. How could you miss him whenever he wore those tight jeans and white shirts that hugged his muscles so perfectly, complementing his tanned skin. And his tattoos! God those fucking tattoos made you want to drop to your knees right then and there for him. It didn't help that he not only had an eyebrow piercing, but also a lip ring that he just couldn't seem to stop playing with. Jungkook is a very attractive man, and you could agree with that whether you were in a drunken state or not.

But you knew Jungkook hadn't heard of you. There was no way. In fact, he never even spared you a glance at any of those parties. His tongue seemed to be always shoved down someone else's throat. The only mutual friend the two of you had was Jimin, but since you both came from complete opposite sides of his life, you were rarely crossed paths with each other.

Yet again, your thoughts were quickly broken, startling you as everyone began to cheer louder; you noticed the guys were now getting into their respective cars. Engines revved as each of their names were introduced, girls fawning and screaming over them.

As everyone moved out of the street and onto the sidewalks, the announcer walked onto the platform, taking the mic. "I want a clean race gentlemen. You know how this goes; first place takes it all. Ready... Set... GO!"

And with that, they were out of your sight as they sped off and made the first turn. From where Jimin had you standing, there were large screens visible on the side of the buildings that showed them from a drone view as they raced through the city. It was terrifying watching as they weaved around each other, just narrowly avoiding a few obstacles that happened to be in the way.

It was easy for you not to lose sight of Jungkook. He stood out by driving the brightest neon blue Chevrolet Camaro you had ever seen, decorated with white stripes down the middle. He also happened to be leading significantly in front of the other racers, giving him just enough time to makes turns a bit more cautiously.

You turned back to Jimin. "How long are they racing for?"

"Usually about 7 miles. Not too long, but just long enough to get a good race out of these guys."

You nodded your head, eyes focusing back onto the screens.

You winced when some of the girls would let out these high-pitched shrieks whenever they saw two of the guys spin each other around, smoke engulfing their cars, but the racing never stopped. It didn't matter what happened or how badly they would place, the race would go on without them.

A few minutes passed by and you could hear the engines becoming significantly louder as they approached the finish line, back where you all stood. The overhead camera still focused on Jungkook as he led the group, but you could see someone quickly coming up from behind him.

You hear Jimin mumble, "Fuck Y/n, if he blocks he might actually win this."

And that he did.

The guy behind was racing aggressively, but Jungkook was able to perfectly block him each time he made an attempt to get around his car, which made for an extremely close photo finish as he sped past the checkered flag. Obviously, all the girls were now cheering even louder than before, starting to run into the street and up to Jungkook as he climbed his way out.

But that's reasonable because fuck did he look so good. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead as his bangs fell in front of his face. That large, tattooed arm of his just had to push the strands of jet-black hair back while a smirk was displayed across his face. He was winking to the girls all around him, once again playing with that damn lip ring.

Jimin pulled you with him to go congratulate Jungkook as they announced his name, but you kept yourself hidden behind his back. This just wasn't your place; you weren't friends with Jungkook, you didn't even know him. Most of their frat brothers were there, high fives and fist bumps being shared between them all, and you stood awkwardly, like you were invading their space.

"Jungkook holy fuck! You're a fucking monster out there!" Jimin laughed as the two of you had shuffled your way directly in front of Jungkook. You had been attempting to stay hidden behind Jimin, but one glance up and now you were making eye contacting with the winner himself.

God, he looked even better up close, those big brown eyes of his displaying so much joy. Maybe a hint of cockiness, too. Just slightly, though.

You, however, quickly looked away, looking anywhere but at him. But Jungkook didn't, he kept his eyes focused on you. Whatever Jimin had been saying became muffled and was going in one of his ears and out the other.

Jungkook was confused. Were you one of Jimin's friends? How had he never seen you before? He definitely would have noticed and remembered you! Were you usually at these races?

He must have zoned out and before he knew it, you and Jimin had started walking away from him as more people tried coming closer to talk to and congratulate him about the win. The girls you had observed from the beginning of the night were now wrapping their arms around him, posing for pictures to post to social media, but he didn't even bother to pay them any attention.

As the night passed by, Jungkook tried celebrating with the rest of his frat house but just couldn't get the picture of you out of his head. Who were you? He made a note to himself to question Jimin once he came back for the night.

///

a/n; it's finally here!! i'm so excited for this series and i really hope you are too!!!!! please leave feedback🤍🤍

2023; © aechawrites

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-It Friday

Tagged by the super amazing @daffi-990, @diazsdimples, @theotherbuckley, @disasterbuckdiaz @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie and @wikiangela. Thank you and I'm excited for all your upcoming works!

I know what the people want, so here is another snippet from NFL Buck featuring more of Buck's perspective. (All things NFL Buck can be found here.)

Ali gave him one last tight hug, "You did good Buckley. Shook all the right hands, stayed away from the corporate sharks, and the press absolutely loved you." She praised. Buck felt warm all over and gave her a soft, grateful smile, "We both know I only survived this evening because of you. I can't thank you enough Ali really." His agent's eyes misted over and she smiled in return, "Maybe so Evan," He scrunched his nose and Ali rolled her eyes, "Sorry...Buck. You still haven't told me how you got that chicken sounding nickname and why only like four other people besides me call you it." They both chuckled, but quickly sober. She gives his right bicep a gentle squeeze, "I'm only here because of you. Because you took a chance on a no name, client-less, newbie sports agent who was brought to you by your secret boyfriend after he patched her up following an astronomically awful rage quit that put her asshat of a boss in the hospital." "He tried forcing himself on you. It was self defense and a faulty balcony railing." Buck reminded with a smirk. The petite brunette winks, "And thats the story I'm still sticking to." She waved her hand around brushing away the past, "The point is, were here because of your hard work, sacrifice and enormous heart. I'm just making sure no one takes advantage of it all. Accept your share of the credit and celebrate being the 9th pick in the first round of the 2013 NFL draft. Celebrate being the Houston Texan's newest quarterback! Whoo!" She shouts in elation. Buck laughs boisterously and cheers right along with her, at a lower volume level and with less energy. He was happy really. The dream he's had since he was six was becoming a reality. All the practicing, studying, workouts, and personal sacrifice had finally paid off. Ali was one of numerous people who got him to this point and he was glad he at least had her at his side tonight, but Buck really wished the three most important people in his life were with him too. Maddie sent an email from her work account congratulating him, but Buck hadn't seen or physically heard from the woman who basically raised him since he left for college. Eddie couldn't get the time off and neither of them felt comfortable bringing a soon to be five year old Christopher to New York. Kid was still getting the hang of his new crutches and finding adequate childcare for him that didn't involve Eddie's parents was impossible. Buck really missed his Diaz boys (and his sister, but that was an ache he was accustomed to). He wanted to see Christopher's blinding joy when Evan's name was called, even though he wouldn't quite understand what it entailed. He wanted Eddie to wrap him up in the tightest hug while shouting his excitement too close to Buck's ear before kissing him stupid and shoving him towards the stage. Buck wanted to be out and open and proud with his partner and son, but the world his football dreams are apart of, wouldn't accept it and that tight ache in Buck's chest will have to stay.

A bit angsty today, but I want ya'll to see these milestones of a professional players road to the NFL. It takes so much hard work and sacrifice to make it to the NFL, and for Buck that includes the personal sacrifice to stay closeted and keep his same sex relationship a secret. A lifelong dream like that is worth it to him, to many professional athletes. I hope you all enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure): @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @lover-of-mine @jesuisici33 @bekkachaos @thewolvesof1998 @giddyupbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @rainbow-nerdss @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @eddiescowboy @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @glorious-spoon @buddierights @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @cal-daisies-and-briars @transboybuckley

[midnight-pluto]

COFFEE: PG.13 — meet the parents

COFFEE: tim drake x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: Tim meets a barista that gives him what he needed most — a large coffee with way to many shots of espresso. Though what happens when just a single action changes the other's life, forever?

coffee master list || prev. || next

FRIDAY, JUNE 23 2023 - 9:30 PM

DATING A LITERAL celebrity. But dealing with parents who still you’re still eleven is even harder — well, to you at least.

Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky today since their focus wasn’t on you. Unfortunately, their focus was on your partner who was just nodding along to their endless rambles on how they most certainly should treat you right.

“Not that I have any doubts that you aren’t treating Y/N right it’s just,” your mother gestures her hand towards Tim, “You don’t look very, well.”

“Mom!” you whisper scream, appalled at her bluntness. You place a hand on Tim’s thigh as a way of apologizing on your mothers behalf to which he slightly snorted at.

“What? I’m just saying,” she remarks.

Lightly squeezing his thigh in slight frustration, Tim places a hand on yours, intertwining your fingers with his and letting it hang inbetween both of your chairs. Exhaling through your nose, your frustration stars to simmer back down until your father speaks up.

“How much money do you make?”

“Enough,” Tim nods which your father looks at him blankly before sipping on the coffee you made for him. You sigh at their words, hanging your head low in embarrassment making Tim let go of your hand to rub the top of your back soothingly.

“Oh my— you can’t just ask that, especially in public!” your mother scolded to which your father just softly chuckled and nodded.

Wanting to get this interaction over with, you interrupt by saying, “If you guys just want to sit here that’s fine but I gotta get back to work soon so just come back to the counter when you’re ready to order.” You hurriedly push your chair back in when your parents nod — signaling that you were allowed to be dismissed.

FRIDAY, JUNE 23 2023 - 10:27 PM

IT WASN’T LIKE you weren’t used to an overwhelming amount of people in the café, you actually preferred it since it meant you were more likely to get paid more. However, what you weren’t used to were the concerning amount of people crowding the windows just to see a glimpse of the one and only Bruce Wayne.

To be completely honest, you knew for a fact that most of those of reporters outside were from other cities since the main ones in Gotham have been desensitized to the sightings of the local billionaire.

Headlines of Bruce Wayne doing normal daily things in a regular persons life got old after a while — oh wow, he’s at a gas station buying chips! That will definitely get a lot of attention.

The only reason you were freaking out internally was simply because that was that there was close to a hundred people outside the small café which probably made you more nervous than the man in front of you.

“Is there anything else that’d you would like?” you ask, putting on disposable gloves and grabbing the croissant he had requested. Placing it into a small bag you remove your gloves and tap the screen once more.

“No I’m alright,” he said, taking out his wallet for cash and putting the exact amount of money on the counter on top of another bill.

Counting the bills in your hand you raise a brow at the stray hundred given. “Take it as an apology for bringing a lot of people around here.”

Nodding at his explanation you pocket the money and give him his croissant, “Enjoy the rest of your day!”

“You too,” he nods, walking out the front doors and the crowd follows.

You let out a sigh of relief at the lack of eyes on you, resting your hands on the edge of the counter as your heart rate slowed as it had unknowingly quickened at the amount of eyes on your form.

Feeling a comforting rub on your lower back, you turn to see Tim standing there with a smile, “You did good.”

Smiling back at him, you rest your head on his shoulder as a form of relaxation to which he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead in response.

SPECIAL NOTE: i was supposed to post this on Friday but I got distracted by building a Christmas tree 😔

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