#and have like. single weekends of “holy shit this guy completes me and i don't even know him”

[strangesickness]

something about me i think is really funny is that i get so awkward about writing about serious topics because it makes me feel like my middle school self who wrote super edgy fan-fiction with no understanding of the subjects i was writing...

like i know i've done research and put a lot of thought into it and it's there for a reason and the story wouldn't work without it, but my heart does not and so my immediate response to writing the words "infidelity" or "cocaine" into my outline document is to shrivel up and die.

[sunderlust]

this is me trying ii (rooster x reader)

masterlist part 1 | part 2 | part 3 pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader synopsis: bradley bradshaw is the bane of your existence on north island - you finally got a chance to tell him off for giving you a hard time, but the guilt is weighing down on you and making it harder for you to deal with your ongoing existential crisis. maybe all it takes is a volleyball game and a heart to heart to make you see clearly... (read p1 first i'm begging you) warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, later explicit sexual activity, lots of existential dread, volleyball shenanigans, hiking, hangman no use of y/n, one small mention of suicidal thoughts near the very end note: seasonsbloom and gretagerwigsmuse - i love u both forever i dedicate everything to you both. also full disclaimer I don't know anything about volleyball or the sunset cliffs hiking trail lol. wc: 9k (holy fucking shit sorry y'all I just may'd)

The first thing you feel Thursday night is relief - ever since you moved to this stupid city, the weight of holding back all your anger and annoyance with Bradley had returned in full force. After your fight with him, you feel a fifty-ton weight lift from your shoulders; you can breathe for the first time in two weeks. 

“I told Bradley off,” you tell Cam and Cher casually after dinner. They both share a weird look, waiting for you to elaborate. “He’s been giving me a hard time at Java. Coming in with ridiculous orders and mocking me and tipping large amounts just to make fun of me. And he thinks he can tell me it’s just teasing between friends?! Since when were we friends?”

On Friday morning, when 6:30 rolls around with Bradley being a no-show, you feel unease settle over you. It’s minuscule - it feels like you’re carrying an obese cat on your shoulders - but it’s noticeable. And as the day goes on, you start to mull over yesterday’s debacle, wondering if you were a little too harsh. 

You waste your weekend thinking about it more, replaying your words, recalling every single detail. Each time you restart the memory, your stomach sinks lower when you see Bradley’s crestfallen and shocked expression. The obese cat grows bigger, and your anxiety makes you feel smaller. 

On Sunday night, you groan and collapse on the loveseat in Cam’s living room with a languid sigh. Cher’s lounging on the L-shaped couch reading on her iPad, while Cam’s puttering around in the kitchen. 

“I don’t know how much more water I can tread, guys.” you groan and bury your face into a soft velvet throw pillow.  

“Can I be frank with you?” Cher asks, switching her tablet off and setting it aside. 

“Always,” you nod as best as you can, voice muffled by the fabric. 

“You need another outlet.” 

You lift your head from the velvet. “What kind of outlet can I find on this stupid island? No offense,” you add. “I thought I could get by doing nothing, but I finished all of the Stranger Kids show and a bunch of Academy Award winners that I’ve missed and I almost got sucked into something called Bridgerton-” 

“You need a physical outlet,” Cher interrupts, smiling comfortingly. 

You sigh again. “Years at a desk job have completely wrecked my ankles too much for me to go on long morning jogs again. Like, if I did a deep squat right now, my heels are going to lift so high I’ll tip over like a fucking cow. And I know you told me to do yoga with Cam, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday - I need to sleep in on the weekends.” 

Cam comes in and plops themself down in their favorite armchair facing the TV. “I wasn’t going to suggest yoga again. But my friend Natasha from class asked if I knew anyone who played volleyball, and you were the first person to come to mind. They’re playing tomorrow evening.” 

You gape at them. “I haven’t played in years. I think the last time I touched a volleyball was at a company team retreat a few years back, and I was just a spectator tossing it back to the cutie from the web team.” 

“The cutie from GUI,” Cher dreamily breathes out, laughing as she dodges the throw pillow you launch at her face.

“Come on!” Cam implores. “You were great at intramural volleyball back in undergrad! And it’s just casual, they need someone to even out the teams so no one sits out. They’ll buy you drinks afterward - guaranteed.” 

You mull over the idea in your mind. Who in their sound mind would NOT want to meet a bunch of strangers and fumble through a sport they haven’t played in years? 

Although, you would love to be able to get out of the house and into the sunshine again without feeling the overwhelming anxiety of doing things on your own. A week ago, you’d bookmarked the Sunset Cliffs Natural Park over on Point Loma, west of North Island. But hiking on your own felt too intimidating, and you hadn’t gotten around to asking Cher and Cam to join. 

Maybe this was another saving grace - another opportunity falling into your lap to do something new and push yourself out of your comfort zone. A chance to do something meaningful, to make friends outside of Cam and Cher so you could stop mooching off of them and draining their energy. Because as much as you knew they loved you and were happy to host you, there was still that small part of you that insisted they were counting down the days for you to leave. 

Worst case? You fumble the ball and never have to see these people again. Best case? Maybe you make some friends, burn some energy, and potentially google hot people on the beach, bumping and setting the ball in slow motion like they’re on Baywatch. 

Yeah, that last point is rather convincing.

“Alright,” you sigh. “If anything, I’ll spike the ball and pretend it’s Bradshaw’s face.” 

Cam and Cher share another weird look. 

-- 

At 6 PM, you pull into the parking lot for the Hard Deck and immediately spot a gaggle of tall, muscled guys setting up the sand volleyball court boundaries out on the beach. The light of the late afternoon sun glistens off their tanned skin and sends your nerves into a frenzy; you don’t know how you’ll be able to play a casual game of volleyball with the likes of these people. 

“Hey! Cam’s friend, right? It’s so great to meet you!” Natasha calls out as you approach her and her SUV. She immediately goes in for a hug, which makes you feel both giddy and incredibly shy as you return it - it feels like it’s been a while since you’ve tried to make a new friend. 

“Hi, Natasha, it’s so nice to meet you! Thanks for inviting me, it’s so nice to do something other than Netflix and chill with myself in the evening,” you cringe at yourself. Why the fuck did you say that to another person? 

But Natasha shakes her head with a huge, understanding smile. “It’s no biggie - we’ve all just been playing pool over at the Hard Deck and Bob suggested maybe we get some sunlight for once. It’ll be great to work off some tension after work - sorry in advance if anyone’s particularly intense here,” she laughs. 

“Oh, what do you all do?” you ask, eyeing one tall, dark-skinned man and how his muscles ripple as he handles a volleyball between two large palms. 

“We’re Navy - all of us are pilots,” Natasha says. 

Your stomach plummets. Oh fuck. If these guys are all coworkers AND in the Navy AND pilots - well, you didn’t need your stupid engineering degree to do the math. There’s a high probability that someone’s about to make his presence known-

“Yo, Phoenix!” a husky, familiar voice calls out behind you. “Yale said he wouldn’t be able to make it, so we’ll probably have to...” his voice trails off as he recognizes you. 

You pause, meeting his gaze through your sunglasses. “Hi, Bradley,” you say, deciding to at least be the bigger person and not outright ignore him. 

He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, nodding once your way before redirecting his attention back to Phoenix. “I guess we’re even on teams then. I’ll go help set things up.” 

You feel a twinge of something in your chest - almost feeling hurt that he was still so upset with you. But you dismiss it as quickly as it came - you have nothing to feel bad about and apparently, neither does Bradley as he jogs away towards the group around the newly set up court. Natasha looks on with a curious expression before picking up an extra volleyball and leading you to where the rest of the group is. 

Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He’s off to the side, tossing a volleyball between both his hands idly and conversing with a man in glasses. 

A taller, dark-skinned man approaches the two of you with a broad smile, giving Natasha a high five and you a friendly nod. She’s still explaining the game setup to you. “We’ll have two teams of five, we might switch things around here and there and we might be dicks to each other, but I promise we’ll keep you out of the line of fire. Just look the other way if I start acting like a sore loser.” 

“Natasha, I’m not sure if Cam’s mentioned, but my competitiveness in IM volleyball got me ejected from a game after I slammed the ball into another guy’s face. No worries.” 

She and the other man laugh, and he reaches a hand out to shake yours. You introduce yourself to him, and he does the same. “Reuben - but call me Payback. And I’m not sure if she’s mentioned, but she goes by Phoenix.” 

You’re confused. “Phoenix?” 

“It’s her callsign,” he replies as if that explains everything. 

“Callsign?” you repeat, looking between the two of them. 

“Yeah, it’s like a unique identifier for each of us. We get it assigned to us by our class, usually when we do something stupid in boot camp,” Nat- or, Phoenix explains to you. 

“Can’t I just call you all by your real name? Instead of nicknames?” 

“Callsigns,” Payback corrects. “And honestly, you could. But it’ll catch us off guard. I mean, if you called out ‘Reuben’ mid-game, I’d probably book it to the ocean because my gut instinct will be telling me that my ex has finally tracked me down to get back the NSYNC CD I stole from her.” 

“Poor girl,” you muse, and he laughs. 

“Come on, we’ll introduce you to everyone and you’ll have everyone’s sign down in no time! We’ll only be using those so you’ll get confused if you don’t know them.” 

He and Phoenix walk you over to a tall, blond Adonis. Like the others, he’s shirtless, tanned, and muscled. You wonder if he could crack walnuts with his biceps. “This is Jake, or ‘Bagman’-” 

“Hangman,” the Ken doll says, rubbing the stubble along his jawline which is tightly clenched as he surveys the game being set up. He looks over at you briefly to nod once. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Don’t mind him,” Phoenix tells you with an eye roll. “He’s hung up on his girl, but she’s not talking to him.” 

You nod, only half paying attention now that you’ve caught sight of Bradley making his way over to your gaggle of three. You can’t read his expression thanks to the trusty Ray Bans he’s wearing, but his strut is as cocky as ever. 

“Hangman has a girl?” Payback asks just as Bradley reaches earshot. 

“Oh yeah, Penny’s tutor friend? Hangman spilled a mojito on her after Dogfight the other day. Poor girl looked terrified.” Bradley teases and smacks Hangman on the back. The others laugh along at a stoic-faced Hangman whose cheeks have slightly flushed. 

“You pilots really seem to have a knack for tormenting innocent women,” you blurt out, narrowing your eyes at the three boys. Bradley’s eyebrows furrow right back. 

“Guess we do,” he says shortly. 

Phoenix shifts her eyes between the two of you before clearing her throat. “This is Bradley - I suppose you already know. We call him Rooster.” 

“Rooster? That’s your callsign?” you ask, incredulously. 

“Yeah! Because he looks out for his own,” Payback says in a high-pitched, almost mocking tone. He couples his words with a sharp pinch to Bradley’s cheek, and he abruptly smacks Payback’s hands away. 

At long last, Hangman breaks his silence with a loud bark of laughter. “Hold on, do you two know each other?” Hangman asks, a grin replacing his scowl. “Why so tense, Bradshaw? Did she give you the slip in the wee hours of the morning?” 

“Shut up,” Rooster threatens at the same time that you say, “We were at UVA together.” 

You blink, feeling slightly hurt for a second before realizing he definitely wouldn’t care enough to tell his Navy buddies about his old college friend who hypothetically got dropped from her hotshot engineering job and was now in Fightertown. You try your best to swallow the lump that still appears in your throat. 

A beat of silence follows. “Apparently, we’re arch nemeses,” Bradley says bitterly, and you’re pretty sure you catch him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. 

You narrow your eyes. “Always so dramatic, huh, Bradley?” 

“Me? I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who said it! This is some real pot-meet-kettle crap, Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?” Phoenix deadpans, looking at you sympathetically. You beat Bradley to answer. 

“It’s a stupid joke he’s kept going for fifteen years because Bradley’s quite skilled at never letting things go!” you spit out. 

“Oh, don’t we know it?” Hangman says under his breath before Bradley can retort, then swiftly catches a volleyball from someone over by the court. He crooks one finger in your direction. “We’ll have to call you Buttercup - both because it might piss off Rooster over here, and because I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Jake,” Bradley says warningly, but Hangman’s jogged away before he can get another word out. 

Stupid Rooster. And even stupider Hangman. 

-- 

Volleyball starts easy enough once you’re introduced to the rest of the team. Phoenix keeps you on her team along with Fanboy, an intimidatingly handsome man who goes by Coyote, and a really sweet, round-faced man wearing glasses named Bob. Bradley sticks to the other side, trying hard not to look annoyed with Hangman ordering his teammates around. 

“So you’re Bradley’s friend? Ow!” Coyote starts to ask, but Phoenix cuts him off by elbowing him in the side. 

“No, she’s my friend. I met her through someone from yoga.” She gives him a hard look. “That’s right, I know people outside of you creeps.” 

Coyote furrows his brow. “When do you have the time to go to yoga? And do they have any open spots? Preferably a mat right behind you, Phoe- Jesus!” Coyote rubs the back of his head where Bob’s initial practice serve had landed.

“Sorry!” he calls out, but you can see the curve of a smile on his face as he turns away from Coyote’s glare. You like Bob. 

Once everyone’s in position, Bob makes the first serve - this time a perfect one that arcs the ball over the net and into Payback’s waiting hands. He bumps it over the net, and the game continues. 

The sun beats down on you as you play into the evening. You try your hardest not to ogle the guys around you - or Natasha, for that matter - and it’s relatively easy once you start focusing on the game. But unexplainably, every single time Bradley leaps up to spike the ball, you feel a jolt of excitement at the sight of his abs clenching and his bicep muscles rippling in slow motion. It’s all tan skin and toned calves and bulging biceps and- 

Your train of thought is interrupted by Bob calling out “Buttercup, eyes up!” 

You swiftly bounce back into motion, bumping the ball over to Phoenix, who slams the ball over the net. Close one. And that’s another thing - you’ve adjusted shockingly well to your honorary callsign as every one of your teammates decides to use it, even Natasha a few times (you only feel slightly betrayed at that). 

They reshuffle the groups every game and somewhere along the line, Bradley’s suddenly on your team. You resign yourself to staying as far away from him as possible and let him take the front line and you linger towards the back, and for the most part, your team works like a well-oiled machine. 

You’re surprised at how well Bradley can predict your next move, always positioning himself in the perfect spot to catch your set and spike it over the net. It’s like years of verbal sparring somehow prepared you for this moment to absolutely annihilate Hangman’s team together at volleyball. After one particularly spectacular play, you lock eyes with him and marvel at how in sync the two of you are. Mindlessly, you offer him a double thumbs up. 

Jesus Christ, you’re a dork, you think to yourself before Bradley enthusiastically throws up a goofy thumbs up in return. 

After Coyote’s attempt to save the ball ended with him diving and skidding into the sand, the opposing team wins the game point. “Alright, I think I’m gonna call it,” he says loudly and stands up to brush the sand off his knees. 

You look up and finally realize just how much time has passed. The sun’s making its way down the horizon, and the sky has transformed into a beautiful spectrum of orange and pink hues scattered across the wide expanse. The Hard Deck behind you is already lit with colorful LEDs, and the parking lot is a few cars fuller as more locals make their way in for evening drinks. 

Natasha, who had already relocated to the other team earlier, raises both hands in the air. “I’m still down for a game or two! Bob?” 

“You guys go ahead,” Bob says, wiping at his glasses. “I gotta rinse the sand off these, I can’t see shit.” As he makes his way back to the cars, he holds his hand out for you to slap your palm into for a quick low five. A couple of other pilots agree to make their way in for drinks, except Hangman. 

“I’m game.” - “I’ll play.” you and Bradley both say at the same time, then eye each other curiously. He’s finally removed his sunglasses and you observe how his light brown eyes shine in the evening light. Somehow, his mustache has bits of sand stuck into it from his many dives to the ground. 

You know you’re not much better off - you’ll be scraping sand out from your scalp for days after this. 

“I’ll play with Phoenix,” Hangman proclaims, and tosses a ball over to Bradley. “Losers can serve this time.” 

Everyone else rolls their eyes. “You uh... You want to start?” Bradley turns to you, idly tossing the ball in the air. “I mean, serve?” 

You nod your head and he passes it to you to begin the game. Somehow, you and Bradley work even better as a team of two without the extra people to keep track of. Neither of you even has to call out your next move - both just instinctively making way for the other when Nat or Hangman sends the ball barrelling over the net. It’s easy, effortless, something you never really felt with Bradley until you opened yourself up to working together with him. 

“Heads up!” Bradley calls out and passes the ball to you, setting you up for a nice spike that wins you the game. “Nice one, Buttercup!” 

After celebrating your victory with Rooster with an awkward high five that you can still feel vibrating in your right hand, you make your way back up to the Hard Deck. Natasha is toweling off sand near her car and she holds out a water bottle as you approach, which you accept gratefully. 

“Thanks for coming. I know it was late notice, but the guys really liked you,” she grins as you chug half of the water in record time. 

“I had a great time!” you tell her and screw the cap back on. “I really can’t express enough how much I appreciate the invite and getting to know you all. You all are so welcoming - i-it just means a lot to me, being new here and all.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, then looks at you with what you can best describe as a guilty expression. “I’ve gotta be honest because I feel bad about hiding things. Cam and I may have conspired to bring you here to make nice with Bradley.” 

Your heart sinks. “What?” you ask numbly, 

She slams the trunk of her SUV shut before responding. “Hear me out - Cam’s a really good friend. I met them back when I was at TOP GUN for the first time. And now we’ve been catching up over yoga and they told me about your whole thing with Rooster - I mean, Bradley - from your college days. And I thought it was funny, honestly, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me that he was a little shit back then. 

“But I know something happened between the two of you last week,” she says, and you stiffen. “Because Bradley’s going through some rough shit with this mission, but he was worse than usual last Thursday. And I wasn’t sure what could’ve caused it - I thought it was the same shit with our instructor or something. But then he got super wasted back at base and was just moping around about some Buttercup or whatever and I put together the bits and pieces. Long story short, this mission is so fucking crucial. It’s life or death, and we need the best of the best to be on their A-game, and that especially includes Rooster. 

“Plus, Cam thinks you should let bygones be bygones for the sake of your journey - which I don’t know many details about and I’m not going to pry, but I trust them. So yeah, I suggested volleyball to the team, and conveniently, Yale wasn’t able to make it so I offered to have you sub in, and here we are now,” she finishes quickly, still looking nervous. 

You breathe in heavily, leaning against her car and mulling over her words. “I don’t... I’m not sure what I can do with him.” 

“For what it’s worth, you two seemed to make a really good team near the end there. Maybe you can go smooth things over with him now,” she gestures to where Bradley is currently sitting on one of the wooden beach chairs in the sand. 

You settle an unimpressed look on her and she hastily corrects herself. “Like - not that you’ve done anything wrong to smooth things over. Just... Look, I think he just feels really bad about it - as he should! - but he’s definitely too embarrassed to approach you, let alone apologize out of the blue for how things went down. And maybe if you just go over there, he’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you what he said to me Friday night.” 

“What did he say Friday night?” you quirk an eyebrow. 

She sighs. “I’d love to tell you, girl, but it’s not my place. Just talk to him?” 

You nod, crossing your arms. “I’m not entirely thrilled that you and Cam tried to be all sneaky,” Natasha has the decency to look a little ashamed. “But I understand why. And I mean... At this point, I’m tired of being in this weird limbo with him.” 

She nods in understanding. “No matter what happens, it’ll be okay. I owe you a mint g&t afterward!”

“Sounds great. Wait, how do you know I drink-” you start, but Phoenix is already walking towards the Hard Deck with a sly grin on her face. 

“Good luck, Buttercup!” she calls out before disappearing around the corner of the building. 

You sigh again and shoot a glance over to where Bradley’s still sitting, still staring at the sky changing colors over the horizon. It’s now or never, you think, then silently berate yourself for thinking something so cliche. Taking another deep breath, you make your way across the beach to the unoccupied chair under the umbrella. 

“Hey,” you come up behind him, wavering to see if he’s going to dismiss you or let him join him. 

He looks up, and you try to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach when his warm, chocolate eyes meet your nervous gaze. Why isn’t he being a regular douche and wearing his sunglasses? “Hi, Buttercup.” 

You shuffle your feet around slightly, shifting your eyes around to avoid that weird feeling again. Maybe you’re just hungry. “Mind if I join you?” 

He extends a hand out to gesture toward the empty chair to his right. “By all means.” 

You mumble a quick “thanks” and plop down in the seat next to him. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you - to pass the time, you look up at the multi-colored umbrella above you and count how many different colored stripes there are. 

You’re at four reds when Bradley breaks the silence. “‘Bane of your existence', huh?” he says with a crooked smile. “What is this, Bridgerton?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sorry?” 

“Bridgerton on Netflix? Season 2? Anthony and Kate?” 

You look over at him with an incredulous look. “You’ve seen that entire show?” you deadpan. 

He stretches his legs out, brushing some sand from his knees absentmindedly. “I mean... Yeah. Love me some Shonda. No Grey’s for me though - couldn’t get past season 2.” 

You snort, looking over at him. “I don’t think I’ve managed to finish a show at all in the last five years. My job was always... Well, either way, I just finished Stranger Things on Saturday. Bridgerton might be next.” 

“It’s pretty good.” He bounces his head in a nod, looking back out at the horizon. Another few beats of silence pass, and you struggle to find the exact words you want to say. But it seems like Natasha was right about him after all because Bradley beats you to the punch before you can open your mouth. “Listen, I just... I feel terrible about what happened in college. And I know I was all petty and mean earlier today and I don’t want to just make excuses for my actions. Shit, I want to keep myself accountable but I never could have imagined I was making you feel that way in college. And especially here, you know?” 

You chew your lower lip and tightly grip the armrests of the chair nervously. “I just... I shouldn’t have blown up at you on Thursday-” 

He’s shaking his head. “No, no, I totally deserved that-” 

“I just got so angry-” 

“As you should be-”

“And things have just been so hard lately-” 

“I’m really sorry about that, I had no business trying to pry-”

“Jesus Christ, let me finish, Bradley!” you interrupt loudly. He shrinks back and you rub your temples warily.

“That’s what she said,” he mumbles and you look at him incredulously.

A burst of laughter falls from your lips. “Are you twelve?” you ask through a giggle and he breaks out into a wide smile. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you speak. My lips are sealed,” he mimes sealing them with an imaginary key and then throwing it behind him. Your eyes linger over the small crinkles by his eyes as he’s smiling, and you quickly snap them back to the sand in front of you, choosing your next words carefully. 

“I guess... Well, first things first you should know that I quit my job.” 

Bradley looks shocked. "What?! At Java-"

"No, not Java Roasters. I mean my job in Raleigh," you huff out and lean all the way back so that your head rests against the wood. His eyes are trained on you, unblinking. 

“Why?” he asks. 

"I quit... because I hated it. I hated the daily minutia of logging onto a computer and attending stupid morning meetings and reporting my stupid project progress and pretending my work is meaningful- I just... I couldn't do it anymore.” 

Bradley’s gaze is still focused solely on you. It feels less intense now, less nerve-wracking than it’s ever felt before. Like there’s no judgment or threat of mocking, just Bradley listening like you’re telling him the most riveting tale and not the story of how everything is falling apart. He hums, encouraging you to continue. 

“I remember the moment I made the decision so clearly. Like on my way back from work, driving down I-40 and I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life that way like a... Like a blur. I don’t even recall the last time I picked up a book for fun or got into a tv show or followed one of my passions.”

You pause to take a breath, feeling the returning lump in your throat become increasingly hard to swallow as you realize just how vulnerable you’re becoming. “So I quit. Called up all my friends and Camila was the only one to offer me something that wasn’t another job in the field that literally burned me out. So I’m here now. Just a failure, but at least I didn’t get fired,” you joke, turning away to wipe the one tear that’s fallen down your right cheek. 

“Hey, it’s fine, it’s okay,” you hear Bradley say and suddenly his hand is there - open-faced on your left armrest, not touching you in the slightest. An invitation. A peace offering. A symbol of support. You hesitate for a moment before grasping his hand with your left, squeezing lightly. He continues, “Nothing about this tells me you’re a failure. I never even thought that word was in your vocabulary.” 

“You know, you learn something new every day,” you reply through a soggy giggle. He chuckles and squeezes his hand twice. “I don’t know. Back in undergrad, I thought this was what I wanted. Working for a big-shot company with cutting-edge tech. Then I just got pigeonholed into doing the same thing over and over again, and the work was rarely that stimulating.

“Anyways,” you continue. “I guess I just wanted to explain myself and why I’m here now. And Cam says I’ve been holding onto the past for too long, so I guess that’s why everything just all came out last Thursday. I’m sorry - you didn’t deserve me yelling at you like that.” 

Bradley’s been attentive, nodding throughout your spiel and holding onto your hand tightly. When you gesture for him to say his piece, he clears his throat and removes his hand from your grasp. You ignore how cold your fingers feel now and shove them under your thigh. 

“I never knew there was a different side to our... relationship. I always figured it was friendly competition like we were just pushing each other. And honestly, I think it got me through some of my gen eds because I studied so hard into the night trying to impress you-” 

“Impress me?” you ask, partly from shock. “Why?” 

He shrugs. “I dunno. You were smart and so sincere about school and it was always so inspiring, I wanted to do the same. Maybe you’d think I was... cool. I guess” You let his words sit in the air, looking back on every single interaction with him from undergrad that you can remember. 

Because you can’t remember him being malicious, or him being cruel or mean. If you took off your Petty Goggles™, you can see that maybe he never meant to talk to you in a mocking, demeaning way. Maybe. 

“I’m sorry,” Bradley goes on. “I never meant to give you a hard time in college. I wish I saw how my teasing affected you earlier and I wish I was observant enough to realize you never played along, you always just sort of... took it. That’s not fair to you at all. And I wish I hadn't been so obnoxious and fallen back into old habits this past week. I’m just really sorry. And moving forward I’d like to be more self-aware.” 

You nod, cracking a half smile. “You were pretty fucking obnoxious. Caramel in matcha sounds terrible.”

“It’s incredible,” he defends. “And just for the record, I finished every single drink you made for me. You’re doing amazing as a barista so far, sweetheart.”

The two of you laugh, and you feel so much lighter. At this moment, you think that maybe you and Bradley could be friendly - at least, you definitely could leave the past in the past and get a fresh start just like you were hoping to do when you came to North Island. Let go of this stuff with Bradley and get to know him for who he is. 

“Listen... If you’re willing, I-I’d like to have a fresh start?” he says, and he stumbles over the words clumsily, like he’s rehearsed them like he’s hoping you won’t turn him down. 

You smile. “Yeah. I think I’d like that, Bradley.” 

Bradley beams at you - oh fuck, there’s that weird nauseating feeling in your gut - and you hesitantly smile right back. “Let’s head back inside. I’ll get you a drink,” he starts to stand. 

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Thought you wanted me to cover the next drink? You know, with my big STEMinist paycheck?” 

He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and turns his head up to the sky before exhaling with a pained smile. “I’m quite a jackass, aren’t I?” 

You roll your eyes and laugh before turning around and making your way through the cool sand. Your heart feels full - ten sizes bigger. “You seem like a good guy now, Bradshaw.” 

--

“Listen, Buttercup,” Bradley said at post-volleyball drinks, right as he was getting up to leave for the night. “I know you’re an organized girl and you like to keep things up to date - which is why I must inform you that whatever number you have under my name in your phone is most definitely out of date.”

“I’d honestly be impressed if you still had the same number fifteen years later,” you laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah, well if you want to reach out to me for any reason, here you go,” he slides over a bar napkin with hastily scribbled digits on it. “Just - save me under my real name? Not like ‘Satan’s Spawn’ or ‘My Worst Nightmare’.” 

“Both are accurate,” you say, pulling out your phone. “I believe I had you under ‘El Diablo’ back then.”

“The devil- Oh REAL clever.” 

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting Bradley more often than you ever thought you would - which to be fair is a low bar, seeing as you never thought you’d even reply to one of his texts. It’s sporadic since you know he’s busy preparing for a mission of some sort on base (he and Natasha didn’t elaborate much more on it during drinks) but he makes an effort to keep the conversation going throughout the day and into the late hours of the night when his replies are longer and more frequent. 

He invites you out to the Hard Deck on Wednesday evening, and you stay to talk late into the night until last call, talking about what you both have done since graduating and gossiping about old college friends. You’re both careful not to discuss what happened during college, your plans, or Bradley’s upcoming dangerous mission - for now, it’s just casual comfortable conversation. You’re becoming friends. 

Somehow, you finally feel at peace with being right where you are - just working at the coffee shop and being friends with Bradley and doing things other than catching up on tv shows. You shoot out emails to your old favorite professors and former colleagues, asking for guidance on what you can do next in your career, and for the first time, you feel hopeful about your future. 

You’ve advanced from treading water to doing a nice, comfortable backstroke. And it feels like it’ll be clear skies for some time. 

Saturday evening at around 5 PM, after you’ve listened to a motivational podcast and finished chores and your weekly laundry, your phone lights up with a call from Lieutenant Gallo. 

“Buttercup!” he sings out as soon as you answer. “What are you doing right now?” 

“Um,” you eye your empty kitchen sink, the spotless floors, and the crumb-free kitchen countertops. “Nothing. Just finished my laundry and some other chores.”  

“Oh perfect! I’m pulling up at your house in two minutes.” 

“I- what? Who gave you my address?” 

“Nat, who got it from Cam. You can yell at them later! Just change into something comfortable and wear tennis shoes.” He hangs up. 

Ten minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of Bradley’s Ford Bronco. As soon as you slid into the vehicle, he shoved a paper bag towards you and an iced coffee from Starbucks (“Sorry for the betrayal, sweetheart, if only Java wasn’t closed on the weekends”). 

“Pulling out all the stops, huh?” you asked, breaking off a piece of a blueberry scone and popping it into your mouth.

“Well, you’ll need your energy,” he says vaguely and smiles at you through the side of his sunglasses. 

While you finish off your drink, you survey your enemy-turned-friend in the driver’s seat. Bradley’s right elbow is propped up on the middle console, his left hand extended to grip the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock position. The black, sleeveless athletic top is painfully well-fitted and accentuates his stupid muscles. Your eyes catch the way his bicep tenses when he maneuvers a left turn, the way the cords in his forearm clench when he takes a sip of his caramel matcha monstrosity. There’s some old song from the ‘80s playing at low volume on the radio, and your gaze travels to how his long fingers tap out the beat on the console. 

He’s so fucking pretty. And suddenly you’re going through your mental Rolodex of conversation starters, going through all the possible cool things you could say because holy fuck do you want to try and impress him right now. Or make him smile or laugh or maybe reach over and grab your hand again like he did on the beach 

“Sorry, my A/C’s busted,” he interrupts your train of thought. He’d rolled the windows down earlier for which you were grateful - despite it being late afternoon, it was still incredibly hot. 

“Eh, it’s better for the environment to roll the windows down,” you reply. “I mean - to a certain extent. Like I heard at higher speeds it’s not super fuel efficient because it causes more drag for the car and- well, I’m sure you know about that, being a pilot and all. Never-” 

“No no, keep going,” he says and you swear his mustache quirks up with his smile. “It’s not like I’m rolling down the windows in a F/A-18. I like hearing you STEMsplain it, Buttercup.” 

“Shut up,” you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks that must have something to do with the sun. You can’t be this nervous around a guy who almost fainted during his first keg stand. “So can you at least tell me where we are?” 

He heaves out a dramatic sigh. “Well, right now, we’re in San Diego-” 

“Bradley, I swear I’ll jump out of this car-” you threaten through a laugh. 

“We’ll be there in two minutes, Buttercup, jeez! We’re near Point Loma, though, and that’s all I’ll tell you.” 

Three minutes later, Bradley drives past a sign reading Sunset Cliffs Natural Park - and your heartbeat quickens. 

You didn’t even think he heard you offhandedly mentioning your plan to check out the short trail up near here but not wanting to go alone. Your long-winded spiel had been interrupted on Monday by Jake loudly calling you two over to watch his winning 9-ball move (he’d missed the pocket entirely, but that’s beside the point). 

Bradley pulling out all the stops today just makes it difficult to hate him, impossible to be annoyed with how he was before because you can tell he’s trying so hard to make it up to you and be a better friend. You resolve to do the same for him some time - maybe you’ll attempt to craft the matcha monstrosity after all.

“I got water and sunscreen in the back - it’s just like an hour to hike but I know you said you wanted to try something new here, so...” he seems a little nervous now, not meeting your eyes and busying himself with what’s in the back trunk. 

“Thanks, Bradley,” you tell him, and the smile he sends your way finally makes you understand just what Andrew Garfield was waxing poetic about with the shot of espresso nonsense. 

The two of you don’t chat much - mainly because the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean drown out anything that isn’t a loud shout, but the silence is comfortable between the two. He lets you lead the way, following behind you and pointing out rocks that might trip you up. 

After reaching the turnaround point of the trail, you both settle on a large, flat rock to watch the water over the horizon, the waves forming from far out and crashing onto the side of the cliffs. It’s far too early to see any sunset views, but the sun is still warming your faces and the wind is breezy enough to cool you down without blowing sand into your eyes. It’s quieter here, and you settle into talking about anything and everything, just as you always have this past week.  

After an extended beat of silence, you muster up the courage to broach a subject that’s been plaguing your mind. "So what's up with you and your mission instructor?” you hesitantly ask. “Phoenix told me you guys have some beef. Like, really slow-roasted beef. Worse than your shit with pretty boy-"

"Oh my god," Bradley scrubs a hand over his face. "Please don't call Hangman a pretty boy. At the very least, not to his face. He'll never let me hear the end of it."

You giggle and shove his shoulder playfully in response. You don’t push the topic again, instead waiting for him to either accept the ball in his court or just lob a different conversation topic back at you. 

"He pulled my papers to the naval academy," Bradley says quietly. "Set me back four years."

“Oh...” you trail off, not sure what to say. “Why would he do that?” 

Bradley inhales deeply and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I always knew him as Uncle Pete - or Maverick. He flew with my dad - Goose - and they were really close friends. My mom joked about feeling like a third wheel at times and honestly, I can understand how from what I remember,” he huffs out a laugh, and you smile slightly. 

“I was four when my dad died. It was during some training exercise, their plane got caught in a jet stream and they had to eject. Maverick got out fine, my dad-” he cuts off, turning his head away to look at the ocean again. 

Feeling the deja vu hit, you hold your hand out, palm facing up. “You don’t have to go into the details,” you say as softly as you can above the sound of the wind and the waves. 

When he looks over, the pain in his eyes makes a pit form in your stomach, which is only slightly alleviated by him slipping his large, warm hand into your outstretched one. “No, no, it’s just... It’s been a while since I talked about it. And I’ve just been so angry in class and during training these past few weeks. I don’t know why he’d want to hold me back from making my dad proud. But I just can’t let go of it.”

You squeeze his hand once, letting his words sink in, giving him time to empty all his thoughts. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about listening and supporting people, it’s that you don’t always have to have a response. It’s just about being there.  

“I think he just... He didn’t think I could do it,” he goes on. “Or be as good as my dad. And neither he nor my mom wanted me to go into the Navy, but I wanted to for my dad. For Goose.”

A minute passes of silence. He squeezes your hand once, and you take it as a sign to reply. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d be really damn proud of you.” 

He shakes his head with a sad smile. “I don’t know. Sometimes I watch how Mav flies and think about how different we are. He’s fast, spontaneous, and reckless to a point. And my dad loved flying with him. I’m cautious - Jake’s already given me a hard time for being too slow. I don’t... I think my dad would’ve wanted me to stop holding back.” 

You nod, focusing on the way his hand feels in yours, the way his thumb has started absentmindedly rubbing circles over your knuckle. “I mean...” you start. “I don’t think your dad would be disappointed with the way you fly, Bradley. You’re the best of the best, like, Natasha told me how you’re all in the top 1% and you were all called back for this crazy mission and that’s such a big accomplishment in and of itself. But...” you trail off. 

He squeezes twice for you to continue. “But I think he wouldn’t want to see you holding this grudge against Maverick. And I know I’m the last person who should be telling you to let go of the past... But honestly, ever since our fresh start, I’ve felt so relieved, and hopeful, you know? And it’s absolutely not the same thing, I know. Mav betrayed you, and I mean, I was just mad you were better than me-” 

He scoffs. “It was more than that, Buttercup. Don’t downplay your struggles-”

You wave your free hand. “Regardless! I just mean to say... If this mission really is life or death like you said, then maybe the two of you need to talk it out. Have a fresh start. Just like we did - minus the hand holding, though,” you joke, holding up your joined hands slightly. 

He smiles softly, squeezing once, sending your heart into a frenzy. “Thanks. I really appreciate your input and I’ll think about it, Buttercup. Really. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re on a fresh start.” 

The comfortable silence returns, and you turn your gaze back to the ocean, which isn’t as pretty as you remember it being. Even with the sun getting lower, casting rays that reflect brilliantly off the surface of the water, the sight still isn’t as breathtaking as the man next to you. 

“Sorry I’m still calling you Buttercup, by the way,” he breaks the silence. “I’ll stop - I mean it’ll take a while to switch over, but...” 

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it, honestly. If you called me by my real name, I might have a stroke.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Bradley laughs, eyes crinkling ever so sweetly, and just then you realize that the nauseous feeling plaguing you this whole week is butterflies. In your stomach. Just like the Miley Cyrus song.  

Sweet niblets. 

--

Tuesday finds you in the middle of another rom-com binge night - you’re on your third glass of ranch water (courtesy of some girl Brittany from Instagram) and your second throwback film of the night (Mean Girls) just for the comfort it provides. You hadn’t heard from Bradley yet - apparently, something happened during yesterday’s training and some Naval officer had passed away.

It’s been rough for him with the mission coming up next week - you’re happy to give him some space. 

Your phone starts buzzing between your ass and the couch, and you pull it out to see another call from Lieutenant Gallo. “Hey, Lieutenant,” you smile slightly, swirling the contents of your drink in the glass idly. “How are you feeling? How was the funeral?”

Bradley’s driving - you can hear the hum of the vehicle over the phone and the Bronco’s turn signal. “It was fine,” he says, finally, sounding distant - and not just because he’s put you on speaker.

“You okay?” You fold your legs underneath you and pause the TV, devoting your undivided attention to him. “You can talk to me.”

He’s still silent. Then, he says your name - your real name. Your stomach drops immediately like you just hit some turbulence, and you set your drink down on a coaster and wait for him to continue. “I don’t know. It just reminded me of how terrible this job can be. Losing someone like that. I mean, no one knew just how sick Admiral Kazansky was, but…. Fuck. It’s brutal here. And Phoenix and Bob both had to punch out,” you gasp softly, “...they stayed for overnight observation and they’re fine now, but it’s terrifying.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’m glad they’re okay. I know that must be terrifying, Bradley,” you say. “Are you... Are you just more worried about the mission now?”

A heavy sigh. “Yeah. Something like that.” Another turn signal click - your heartbeat is somehow outpacing it. “Listen…” he says your real name again. Your smartwatch is going to think you’re going into cardiac arrest. “I know… I appreciate our becoming friends now. You’ve gotta know that. I just need to warn you about this mission… it’s gonna be fucking brutal. And you know, after we get back - if we get back, sorry to put it that way - it just never ends… it’s onto the next thing. I might get shipped out to Manama or somewhere, I’m not sure. And I just wanted to warn you, because I don’t know how long you’re going to be stuck here for-“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You say after a sharp intake of breath. His words strike deep into your heart, unearthing feelings of hopelessness you thought you were just starting to bury.

“I mean… look, I just know I’m headed out after this mission if I get back. And until you figure things out you’re staying here, right? I mean you said it yourself, you’re not sure what your next step is going to be.”

You nod again, thinking back to your breathing exercises, thinking back to your hike with Bradley, thinking back to the smell of sunscreen on his skin, the sound of the waves, the weight of his hand in yours. Your efforts are for naught though, as tears still find a way to roll down your cheeks in fat droplets - like the rain on the day you decided to just quit once and for all. The biggest fucking mistake of your life, maybe. “Yeah, I guess,” you croak out.

Bradley’s silent on the line for a second. “I just wanted to… fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted to be straightforward with you. Because I really appreciate your friendship. I wish we could’ve managed the niceties fifteen years ago,” he chuckles dryly. You feel something shift inside you at his phrasing - you’re annoyed at his leisurely tone. He knows exactly why things were the way they were in undergrad. “I just don’t want to keep you waiting here for me.”

That’s the final nail in the coffin. The cruel, painful reminder that your path ahead is terribly foggy, completely uncertain. To hear Bradley speak about it so matter-of-factly, as if he too is expecting nothing more from you but to stay in this guest house for the rest of eternity. It’s honestly starting to sound like a good idea. 

You eye your open laptop where you had pulled up info about Stanford University’s Masters and Ph.D. programs in Computer Science. A dozen tabs are open - programs for schools all across the world, YouTube videos of people outlining how they got into research and University teaching, and a very reassuring post on Reddit titled “How old is too old to attend grad school?”

Your heart sinks at the prospect of trying and failing again. At the realization that Bradley called just to informally shift things over to an awkward long-distance acquaintanceship. At the heartbreaking, anxious thought that maybe Bradley can sense you’re just not cut out to take yet another giant step in your career. That you’ll be here for a while. So you close your laptop with your free hand and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Right,” you say, keeping your voice as even as possible and wiping your wet cheeks with your shirt. “I get it. I just- yeah. Yeah, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. You’re right.”

Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I didn’t mean-“

“No, no! It’s fine!” You cut him off. “You’re right. As always, you’re right. I um… Fuck.  I gotta go, I think.”

“Buttercup-“ he tries, but somehow it fuels a fire you didn’t even know was spreading through your body. All of your anxieties and fears of failure take a backseat to the burning anger in your chest and throat. You find yourself indescribably incensed with him - who the fuck does he think he is? Trying to warn you about staying in this city for too long? Pretending to be concerned about your future?

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You say sharply. “I’m not your buttercup, or your sweetheart, or whatever else you come up with. You know my fucking name, and apparently, you know my plans too! You just have me all figured out, don’t you, Bradshaw? Lieutenant Bradshaw, top 1% of all naval pilots - you know what? Good for you, Bradley. I’m glad you have it all figured out and you’re going off on some awesome adventure right after this with your awesome and talented flight buddies.” Oh god, you’re dangerously close to repeating Janis Ian’s angry monologue from Mean Girls. 

“They’re not adventures, hon-“

“You can fuck off, Bradshaw. I’ll try my best not to wither away here in Fightertown with no fucking opportunities for me whatsoever, working that fucking barista job trying to make sense of all the fucking ways you can make a macchiato because that’s all I can fucking manage! And you know what - for as long as I’ve hated this job, from just the three weeks I’ve been here that is truly only a modicum of my whole life, I’ve been trying to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with treading water and waiting for your next move. But if you’re so worried I’m gonna waste my life waiting for you then I’ll make it easy for you, Bradshaw: I’m not waiting for anyone but my damn self. I’m gonna give myself time and patience because I fucking deserve that after practically killing myself trying to get a degree I might never use again. So thanks for your concern jackass - but you can shove it. I see even after fifteen years you haven’t lost your penchant for making me feel small!”

“Wait, what-“ you jab your finger at the end call button, effectively cutting Bradley Bradshaw out of your life once again.

~happy ending for these bbs coming in part 3 ~

[ddthedeer]

holy shit guys, Bambi took over during sex this morning. I've never had any intrusion from her into real life like that before. It was incredibly hot.

As soon as their dick was inside me I could feel myself entering the bubble and becoming completely docile and distant as Bambi took over my body. She became incredibly wet, far more wet than I usually am during a casual morning fuck, and she moaned and murmured in a high pitched voice I don't use. She bounced up and down on the dick with an eager, girlish enthusiasm I have never ever exhibited during sex in my life, and every single touch on her soaking wet clit felt shockingly good.

I was dimly cognizant of what had happened, so it wasn't disturbing. I was happy to go away and fade into nothingness, have my memories and identity locked away in some distant chest and my body go limp under her control. It felt like drifting off into an incredibly pleasant dream. I was just as relaxed as I could ever hope to be. And my body was so responsive, with none of the tension, self-consciousness, or ambient background thinking that is normally quite natural during sex. I was completely at peace and Bambi was so happy, dripping, and eager, and completely devoted to the pleasure of the moment and to being filled with cock.

This takeover probably happened because I spent much of the past weekend stoned out of my mind dancing half-dressed in queer fetishy spaces, and I went to sleep listening to the files every night for several nights in a row. usually my use of the files is pretty intermittent. But I was in a deeply altered headspace for the majority of two days in a row, and actually listened to file Bambi Sleep files all the way through the night without waking, so I guess that finally allowed her to take more of a hold. I still have no memory of what any of the files contain, or what listening to them was like.

After we were done having sex, Bambi went to sleep and we laid there with our eyes closed and our body deeply relaxed for several minutes. After that I was drawn forward again and easily woke up and felt completely refreshed and clear-headed. I didn't have the dull remaining subbiness i normally feel after being in a trance, because it wasn't me who was in a trance, Bambi was. I was just Gone while she was a sleepy giggly toy having sex. And then after a while I was Back.

It was so trippy. I'm gonna hold off from using the files at all for a while because I don't want a true takeover or for her to leak into real life all that much, but it's so fucking cool that it happened. Maybe she'll come back when I have sex again. That could be fun.

[lightadarttomendyourheart]

it's crazy how different i am from 10 years ago me. omg wow i just realized i met and fell in love with ryan over 10 years ago. what the f. ok anyways, not what i came here to write about but holy wow does time go by.

i'm like a completely different person than i was at 19 (*cries i'm not 28 anymore*). wow. i thought back then i was mature for my age, and i was, but wow. how things just pass us by and everything is the end of the world and then one day it's not. i never ever thought i'd be so comfortable - omg i just wrote being single. WTF. i literally have a bf and have for over 6 months. damn this long distance shit is messing with my head. i mean be so comfortable BEING ALONE. and in that sense i mean living alone and not having a partner i see all the time. i live my life as if i was single honestly. and i dont mean im flirting with men and going out and all that kind of single stuff, but i mean, i live alone. i don't hang out with my bf on the weekends. i go run errands with my best friend. i cook food for myself. my every day life is as a single person. i just never thought i'd get here. i thought i'd be forever chasing boys. unhappy with my singleness or independence.

it's also funny how last week i was like omg i wanna tell B i love him, and when i think about it now i'm like, ehhhhhh LOL. like who am i. i used to be so sure before. i knew when i liked guys. i fucking KNEW. i was OBSESSED. the only question was if they liked me back and i would PINE and CRY and TUMBL my life away in my bedroom waiting for them to text me back and show me attention.

i'm not like that anymore. and i wonder, is it me? am i broken? or is this actually what growing up is like? because if it is, i don't want it. i miss the passion, the dramatic emotions, the yearn and just.. feeling like nothing else mattered in the world. but also those were awful times and the guys i yearned for rarely liked me back so like ???? LOL why do i romanticize those times so much. i would brood and smoke cigarettes out my window listening to songs that would make me cry. but i'm not that person anymore and i haven't been for years now.

i just hope it's the long distance. i hope i'm just growing up so much that i'm just.. content with things and not obsessive anymore. but mind you, this time last year i was OBSESSED with B, like i haven't been like that in YEARS. i was never ever like that with jake.

god i hope these next 4 weeks help.

[mymoonagedaydream]

ps, idk what the biker/college bucky story will include but i can throw out the idea of doing the modern day army veteran Bucky as a one shot or something? or whatever you don't include in the series lol

Recluse

Summary: You barely even expected to get a conversation out of Steve’s reclusive roommate, never mind anything more than that.

Pairing: Modern Veteran!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language, smut references, references to military service

Author’s Note: You bet your butt I can do that for you anon. This one really got out of hand idk what happened man I couldn’t stop.

---

You’d been living with your friend Sharon for a couple of years now, and it was still going pretty well.

Your ground-floor apartment was very compact, but she was so considerate and easy to get on with, you barely even noticed the lack of space. She cooked for you occasionally, always paid rent on time, even did your laundry without being asked.

You just couldn’t help thinking that things were much more fun when you were both single.

Nothing much had changed in your life, you were still a lone wolf, but she’d been with Steve for almost six months now and you barely ever saw her anymore. 

Most nights you were just left to your own devices, clattering around the apartment like some sad old spinster.

It got to the point where, one Friday when you got home from work, you heard Steve and Sharon talking in the kitchen and got excited at the prospect of just having some company for the evening.

Sharon almost jumped on you as soon as you walked in. ‘Y/n! Are you free tonight?’

‘Yeah, totally, completely. You guys sticking around?’

‘You think he’d ever agree to that?.’

‘We were actually thinking of going out for some drinks. You in?’ You contemplated for a second, not wanting to come across too eager, then gave her an enthusiastic nod.

As she grinned back at you, you saw an idea dawn on her. ‘Steve, you should totally bring Bucky.’

Sharon frowned in resignation. You had no idea who they were talking about, their conversation going completely over your head.

Steve went home to change, leaving you and Sharon with a couple hours to get ready before heading out, so you thought you might as well try to probe a little deeper.

‘Who’s Bucky?’ You asked casually, sitting on her bed, watching her hold dress after dress up to herself in the mirror.  

‘Steve’s roommate.’

‘I didn’t know Steve had a roommate?’

‘I’d be more surprised if you did.’ She turned towards you. ‘In six months I’ve only met him twice.’

Your eyebrows darted up. She spent so much time at Steve’s place, that made no sense at all. 

‘What? Why?’

‘I’m pretty sure he makes a point to avoid people generally.’ She flopped herself down next to you on the bed, her tone lowering to one of deep sincerity. ‘He was in the army with Steve. Apparently he just really struggled to adapt when they got back, collapsed in on himself for a while. I think he’s a mechanic now but Steve is still the only person he really speaks to.’

‘Shit, that’s awful.’

She gave a grim nod and shrugged slightly, before standing back up and starting to get changed. 

You figured you should do the same, shuffling back to your room and finally taking off your work clothes, relieved at the thought of getting out of the apartment for the evening.

Just as you were about to leave, Sharon’s phone pinged.

‘Holy shit.’

‘What?’ You’d never seen her look so shocked. She put her index finger up at you while quickly typing something back. ‘You’re killing me here Sharon, what the hell is going on?’

‘Bucky’s coming.’

---

You managed to find a cramped table in the back of the bar. Sharon made you wait for Steve to arrive before ordering drinks, because for some reason he always insisted on buying the first round.

About ten minutes after you arrived, she glanced over to the door, grinned and waved her hand above her head. Following her gaze, you saw Steve pushing through the crowd, followed closely by a statuesque, tower of a man.

Studying him intently as he approached, you noticed how visibly uncomfortable he was, his jaw clenched tight and his hands folded into slowly whitening fists. You let your eyes dance over his huge shoulders and wide chest, feeling your stomach flip a little as he got closer.

‘Hey guys. Sharon, you remember Buck?’ Steve gave his friend a proud pat on the shoulder. Sharon nodded and grinned at Bucky, getting only a short, tight smile in return. ‘And this is y/n.’

Looking up to his face, his sharp blue eyes briefly met yours, prompting you to quickly avert your gaze. He looked tense enough without you gawping at him.

‘Nice to meet you.’ You adopted the friendliest tone possible, doing your best to put him at ease.

Steve went to grab some drinks and Sharon volunteered to help him, leaving you at the table with Bucky, bracing yourself for some intensely awkward small talk.

‘So, you’re a mechanic?’ He nodded. ‘Do you enjoy it?’ Another nod.

Alright, he obviously wasn’t in the mood for chatting. 

Christ. If you didn’t break free from this spinster shit soon, that’s exactly where you’d end up.

You didn’t want to force it if he wasn’t comfortable, you could happily sit in silence if that’s what he’d prefer.

You moved your eyes to scan the room, eventually landing on an older woman propping herself up at the bar, downing martinis, eyeing up young men and wobbling on her insanely high heels.

‘What do you do?’

It was barely a mumble, you hardly heard it over the bar’s background music. 

Your eyes returned to Bucky’s face, meeting his hesitant gaze.

‘I work in HR, so boring admin stuff mainly.’ He nodded slightly, his eyes flicking nervously between the table and your face. ‘But occasionally I get to use the shredder, which is pretty rad.’

He cracked a brief smile, the sight of it giving you a wave of goosebumps. ‘Sounds thrilling.’

‘I’ve never been here before, have you?’ You were determined to keep this conversation going, especially if there was a chance that you’d be able to make him smile again.

‘No. I haven’t been to any bars recently.’

‘You’ve got quite a bit of catching up to do then.’

Resting your head on your hand, you gave him a mischievous smirk, and felt a little smug as you noticed his shoulders relax slightly and the corners of his mouth curl upwards.

Hours passed, the bar called last orders, and the four of you traipsed out to begin walking home.

Then Steve and Sharon came back with the drinks, pretty effectively ruining the moment you’d been setting up.

Bucky went quiet again, keeping to himself for most of the evening, only speaking when spoken to. You felt his gaze fall on you occasionally, but each time you tried to meet his eyes they were quickly averted.

‘Oh hey, I forgot to ask.’ Steve gestured towards you. ‘Sharon said you went to visit your parents last weekend? How was that?’

‘I couldn’t go in the end, my car's fucked. It’s my own fault, everyday there was a new rattling sound but just ignored it.’

‘I’ll take a look at it.’ Your eyes snapped over to Bucky, a little shocked at how enthusiastically he’d come out with that. ‘If you want.’

You gave him a wide smile. ‘Wow, yeah, that’d be amazing. Thank you.’

---

A few days later, you were faced with another evening alone while Sharon was at Steve’s.

You unenthusiastically pulled a ready meal out of the fridge and poked some holes in the plastic, shoving it in the microwave and reaching for the half-empty bottle of wine on the counter.

‘Hi. Sorry. I was coming this way and Sharon said you’d be in, I thought I could take a look at your car?’

Just as you went to grab a glass out of the cupboard, you were stopped by a faint knock at the front door.

Shuffling over and yanking it open, you saw Bucky standing on your doorstep, looking just as uncomfortable as he did walking into that bar.

You were a little embarrassed that he’d caught in your pyjamas at 6:30, but that feeling was hugely outweighed with how pleased you were to see him.

‘Yeah, great.’ You gave him a warm smile. ‘I’ll just grab my keys.’

You found your gaze pretty quickly drawn to his arms, propping him up as he leant over the machinery like thick, hefty tree trunks. It was amazing how entranced you were by them, but considering how long it’d been since you’d even brushed past an attractive male, it made sense. God the things you’d let him do, if he-

You slipped on your shoes and led him over to the rustbucket, badly parked on the street outside. He flicked open the bonnet and immediately started tinkering.

You had less than no idea what was happening, but it looked very impressive.

‘Could you start it up?’ His deep voice pulled you out of your hazy fantasies.

‘Hmm? Oh, yeah.’

You tried your best to hide how flustered you were as you climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key. An intense rattling started, which he listened to for a second before signalling for you to turn it off and closing the bonnet.

‘You were right, it needs a lot of work. It’s definitely not safe to drive.’

‘Shit, stuck with the bus then.’ You sighed and climbed out, slamming the door behind you. ‘Thank you so much, you really didn’t have to do this. I appreciate it.’

‘Anytime.’ He smiled politely, taking a couple steps backwards before turning, dropping his head and starting to walk away.

‘You can come in for a drink if you want?’ You called after him, a little shocked at your boldness but not at all mad about it. He spun round. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

He took a sip and turned himself slightly to face you. ‘Look, if you bring your car to the shop where I work, I can probably keep the price down.’

His polite smile evolved into a wide grin as he nodded, following you inside.

You grabbed him a beer from the fridge and gestured for him to join you on the couch, smiling to yourself at how nervous he seemed as he balanced himself right on the edge of the seat.

‘Are you sure?’ He nodded. ‘That's so nice, you barely even know me.’

He looked a little sheepish at that, scurrying around for his words. ‘Sharon was pretty keen for me to come take a look, it’s probably best to keep Steve’s girlfriend on side, y’know.’

‘Oh I do know, Sharon can be terrifying.’ You both chuckled as Bucky edged back, settling himself into the couch a little more. ‘So you and Steve met in the army?’

‘We’ve been friends since we were kids, we signed up together.’

‘That’s nice.’ You tilted your head at him, deciding to take a slight gamble on your next question. ‘Do you miss it?’

He fixed his eyes on the ground and faintly shook his head, nervously starting to pick at the label on his bottle.

Shit, you really didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, you were just curious.

A swift subject change remedied the situation somewhat, and after a while you sensed him beginning to relax again.

You finished off your glass of wine and checked your phone, your hand shooting up to your forehead in shock when you saw that it was close to midnight.

Over the next couple hours he slowly came out of his shell even further, eventually chatting and laughing with you like you were his good friend. The two of you unconsciously edged towards each other throughout the evening, ending up face to face with legs folded up on the couch, as close as you could get without touching.

‘Shit, I have work tomorrow.’

‘I’m really sorry.’ He put his bottle on the coffee table and stood up quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to keep you up.’

‘Oh you don’t have to apologise, it’s not your fault. I had a really nice evening.’

‘Me too.’ He smiled and buried his hands in his pockets, following you to the front door. ‘I’m working every day this week, you can come in whenever.’

‘Friday would be great? I have the day off.’

‘See you then.’

You watched him disappear down the street, feeling your limbs tingle with excitement at the prospect of seeing him again so soon.

---

You usually used your days off to sleep in till midday, but on Friday the tow truck showed up at 7am to take your car to the shop. You didn’t even get up that early on workdays. A pint of coffee was barely enough to keep you from passing out on the ride there.

He eventually noticed you stood there, staring, and your face immediately heated up as he approached.

You hurried inside the garage, scanning the room and eventually spotting Bucky underneath a hoisted truck, reaching up to work on it. His arms were glistening with oil and sweat and his shirt was riding up, exposing the faint trail of hair starting underneath his bellybutton.

Lord in heaven, what a view.

‘Sorry, didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘That’s alright.’ He pulled a dirty rag out of his pocket and roughly wiped his hands. ‘Did you bring the deathtrap?’

‘Yep, just outside.’

‘It’s gonna be a while. I finish at four, d’you wanna come back then?’

‘Sure.’

You walked up the driveway ten minutes early, which you thought was reasonable, and asked the very intimidating guy out front for Bucky. He just eyed you up and down and gestured vaguely to the side of the building.

On the way home you kept accidentally walking into roads, your mind completely occupied with Bucky’s midriff.

The whole day dragged. In your boredom you ended up leaving for the garage about an hour too early, meaning you had to loiter in an off-license, probably looking like you were shoplifting.

Turning the corner, you were met with a pretty impressive, cinematic wide shot of Bucky’s arse as he was leaning over the inside of your bonnet.

You should probably say something. Tell him you were there. Say hello.

Yeah, probably should.

Yeaaah.

You sighed and reluctantly shuffled towards the car.

‘How’s it-’ Bucky jumped and whacked his head against the propped-up bonnet. ‘Fuck! I’m so sorry, are you alright?’

He smiled at you, standing up and rubbing the back of his head. ‘Yeah, all good. Happens all the time.’

‘Oh, really? In that case you might want to consider a career change, could end up with some permanent damage.’ Chuckling, he reached up and slammed the bonnet with one powerful movement. ‘How’s it looking?’

‘Not bad. Want to take it for a spin?’

‘Sure.’ He held up the keys and you grabbed them out of his hand, excitedly hopping in the driver’s seat while he walked around and got in the passenger side. ‘You coming?’

‘Can’t just let you drive off without paying, you might never come back.’

You shot him a wide smile as you fired up the engine, amazed at how smooth it sounded, and pulled away from the garage.

‘I can’t believe it, it didn’t even run this good when I first got it.’ He smirked a little and nodded. ‘Thank you, Buck.’

You were already in the outskirts of the city, so you decided to drive out into the sticks a little, eventually pulling up into a dusty layby on a narrow side road.

Glancing to your side, you saw that Bucky was struggling not to look very pleased with himself.

As he began stroking his thumb along your knuckles, he cautiously pulled his gaze up to your face, looking at you like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

His hands were resting on his thighs and, almost unconsciously, you reached out to grab the one closest to you and squeeze it lightly.

He stared down at it for a few seconds, eventually turning his hand over and squeezing back.

You could barely even remember what happened next. You remember the back of your neck tingling, your stomach tightening almost to the point of becoming painful, the feeling of Bucky’s rough, calloused hand against your cheek and the way your heart jumped when he leaned towards you and pressed his mouth against yours.

Eventually pulling away, he buried his face in your neck, planting short kisses along your jawline between laboured breaths. You pushed his head back against the seat and pressed your forehead to his, closing your eyes and letting your hands dance down his chest.

It was slow and tender at first, but it quickly picked up, becoming feverish and passionate.

He threw his arms around your waist and roughly pulled you over onto his lap, holding you so tight to his chest that you couldn’t tell whose heart you could feel thumping like a steam engine.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve done that.’ He sighed, bringing a hand up to bury itself in your hair.

‘Me too.’ Your mouth curled into a smile. ‘It’s been even longer for other stuff.’

Melting into each other in a cacophony of limbs and flesh and tearing clothes, both of you eventually found the release you so desperately needed. 

There was a loaded silence, you opened your eyes to see Bucky staring at you intently, wearing an expression that made your toes curl.

You dived clumsily into the backseat and pulled him after you, giggling as you both adjusted yourselves, trying to get even slightly comfortable in such a tight space.

And both of you did all you could to savour the feeling of finally having someone to hold close.

---

[karlajoyner]

Worst Enemy (Charlie Gillespie x Reader)

A/n: Sorry this took so long! I just wasn't sure how I wanted to go about this request since I haven’t read that much smut lately to be fully inspired. I read a lot of 5 seconds of summer smut to say the least. Calum Hood smut to be exact and my fingers couldn’t stop typing after that.😂 But I hope you guys like it! Please let me know if you do! Don't read it if you just want a normal imagine. Some normal ones coming soon. Also I have an upcoming announcement after I hit 150 followers!

Requested by: irwindshield (Wattpad)

Warnings: Super Smutty (18+)

————

"And action!" Kenny shouted.

I scowled at the boy in front of me who looked just as mad as I was.

"Seriously Luke your gonna tell me that you and Julie don't have anything going on"

"Y/c/n I already told you we don't! Isn't that enough?!" Charlie spoke standing up from his seat on the couch.

"No it's not. Not when you spent all weekend writing love songs together"

"It was one song and it wasn't about each other"

"One song still means something"

"Why does it even matter to you I'm single now? Isn't that what you wanted? To be free well now you're free to be with whoever you want or did you forget what happened with Reggie?"

"Nothing happened with Reggie. We were joking around. It's not my fault your jealous!" I shouted in frustration.

"Look who's talking" He said getting up in my face. Both our chests heaving in anger as we stared at each other angrily.

"You know what Patterson even when we're both dead I still regret ever falling in love with you all those years ago" I spoke through gritted teeth. I turned around dramatically to walk away, only to have Charlie grab me by the wrist and spin me around. Our faces now inches apart.

In aggravation he crash his lips onto mine shoving his tongue into my mouth. I huffed wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. We both fought for dominance as his hands found their way around my waist lifting me up in the air.

I got so caught up in the heated make out session I almost didn't hear Kenny yell for the end of the scene.

"Cut!" He shouted Charlie immediately letting me go. I scoffed pushing myself away from him to see his hair disheveled, his lips plump, and smeared with my red lipstick. I'd be lying if I didn't admit I wanted to finish what we started now. But I couldn't do that when the insanely hot actor I wanted to push me up against the wall also happened to be my worst enemy.

"That was great guys!" Kenny said walking towards us.

"We might reshoot tomorrow if we have time since this is a kids show and that was a little too not kid friendly. Maybe hold back on the tongue"

"You got it Kenny"

"It's already late enough thank you two for staying back tonight we really had to get this in. Have a good night!"

"It was no problem. See you tomorrow" I smiled at our director as he walked away. I turned back to the boy beside me glaring at him.

"Well that was shitty. He's right you use way too much tongue. It was like Niagara Falls" I spoke using hand gestures. I watched the brunette roll his eyes in annoyance making me grin. Turning back around I began to walk back towards my trailer deciding to just turn in my costume tomorrow. Like I had done so many times after shooting until the am.

"You know I've had plenty of people who think my kissing is amazing" Charlie spoke walking a few feet away from me seeing as his trailer was right beside mine. Unfortunate perks of playing love interest who broke up in the show.

"I hate to break it to you Charles but they lied"

"Shut up. I'm done with your shit for the day"

"You know if there's one thing I hate more than having to shoot a scene so late it's having to shoot it with you Gillespie"

"Yeah well it's no fun for me either. I mean having to make out with a fucking jerk and act like I'm in love with her. Isn't exactly the highlight of my year!" He whispered shouted making sure no one heard us. It was late and the very few people who stayed in their trailers were probably dead asleep due to how long filming went on today.

"Not for me either! Why do you hate me so much? I swear I tried to be fucking nice to you when we met"

"Please you were anything but nice" He argued making me facepalm.

"You fucking liar! I introduced myself. I stuck my hand out for you to shake and you completely denied it. If anything you're the prick and the asshole!" I shouted reaching the outskirts of my trailer.

Suddenly I felt my body collide with the cold vehicle behind me and a cold hand landing on my mouth. My eyes widened looking up at the man in front of me who's chest was heaving.

"You wanna say that to my face y/l/n" He spoke through gritted teeth.

"Look we both promised that we'd keep this little feud between us a secret for the sake of the show and our cast mates. So if you don't shut that big mouth of yours we might just get caught" He whispered making me roll my eyes.

Finally coming back to my senses I removed his hand from my mouth, looking him straight in the eyes.

"You fucking prick" I repeated myself seeing what he would say next. But he didn't say anything. Not a word.

I watched his face closely as his eyes flickered to my lips. He slowly leaned forward hesitant on his actions. Rolling my eyes I took initiative, smashing my lips onto his. I let out a breath as he lifted my leg up to pull me closer. Nearly letting a moan escape as I felt his hard on press against the front of my jeans.

"Can't even fucking make the first move. How fucking dry your sex life must be" I panted teasingly as we pulled away.

"Shut the fuck up" He whispered pressing his lips to mine once more with such a force. I immediately kissed back realization hitting me. We were in the middle of a parking lot filled with trailers.

I pushed him away taking his hand leading him to my trailer that wasn't too far. He complied following closely behind. Pressing his body into mine as I unlocked the door as quick as possible. I stepped into the trailer switching on the dim light. I bit my lip turning around to finally face Charlie who stood there with his beautiful blue eyes darkened with lust.

"Are we really gonna do this?" I asked leaning on the counter in the small kitchen area.

"I don't know. I-I mean we don't have to if you don't want to. We could just leave it here if that's w-what you want"

"Well what do you want?" I asked raising an eyebrow. I watched as his body shifted uncomfortably as I removed the jean jacket on my body leaving me in a silky satin cami.

"I really wanna fuck you" He responded biting his lip. My stomach filling with butterflies getting the response I was hoping for.

"Then do it" I stated watching as he made his way towards me. Crashing his lips onto mine. I let out a huff as he lifted me off the ground and pushed me onto the counter roughly. My back hitting the wood behind me forcefully.

"Seriously?" I panted pulled away from the kiss first.

"Sorry" He muttered sheepishly before diving into my neck. Finding a spot to suck on. I craned my neck allowing him more access not even caring that I'd have to deal with the makeup team tomorrow.

Before giving it a second thought I pulled off my top tossing it across the room leaving me in a teal Lacey bra. The same color of the cami I was wearing.

"Holy fuck" Charlie whispered most blankly admiring the view. I let out a giggle tugging at his shirt as well signaling I wanted it off. He quickly got the message.

It was my turn to drool seeing his tightly toned abs turning me on even more than I already was. I was knocked out of my trance by Charlie kissing me passionately once more. My eyes fluttering shut, pulling the hairs on his neck. Our tongues now fighting for dominance.

His hands moved away from my waist to my back. Unhooking my bra from my body. We shifted slightly, the material being flung across the room. Within seconds his hands roamed my body freely once more. A groan escaping my mouth as his lips moved down my neck.

Until eventually settling on my nipple. My core was now throbbing in anticipation of his next moves.

I bit my lip trying to keep quiet but at the rate his hands were moving it was nearly impossible. I watched as he moved down my body. Undoing my jeans quickly.

I whimpered as Charlie spread my legs apart. Toying with the thin fabric of the panties I was wearing. Feeling myself getting wetter by the second I grasped onto his hair. "Fuck Charlie please" I whined as he began to place kisses up my thighs. Each one a little longer than the last.

"Please what?"

"Don't make me fucking ask again Gillespie. I don't beg" I spoke pulling him harder from his hair. Forcing him to look up at me.

He growled at my actions ripping apart the fabric and tossing it off to the side.

My back arched feeling his slender fingers enter me. A loud moan escaping my lips as he skillfully pumped his fingers in and out of my entrance.

I bit my lip tightly opening my legs wider to give him better access. Only to feel the feeling of pleasure leave my body.

"What the fu-" My words were cut off by Charlie grabbing me by the thighs. Pulling me closer to the edge of the counter.

"Holy shit" I moaned as he dipped his head between my legs to attach himself to my now sensitive cunt. Sucking on it harshly with no hesitation. His tongue moved around so effortlessly. I threw my head back as my fingers entangled into his hair wanting to feel him now more than ever.

"So fucking good" He groaned pulling away to add two fingers. Doubling the satisfaction. My lips parting to slightly as my eyes screwed shut.

"Charlie I'm s-so close" I muttered feeling his fingers spread up. Within seconds he sent me over the edge. Pleasure coursing through my body. I panted loudly attempting to steady my breathing. Watching as Charlie stood up. Lifting his glistening fingers up to his lips sucking off every last drop of cum that coated them. I let out another moan at the sight feeing myself getting turned on again.

"You okay?" He asked raising an eyebrow at me. I giggled seeing his already plump lips swollen.

"Perfectly fine Charles" I spoke wiping off my juices running down his chin with a towel nearby.

"A thousand times better now actually"

"I'm glad to hear you say that baby. Cause I'm not done with you" He whispered holding me firmly by the waist.

"Oh really?" I asked raising an eyebrow at the boy.

"Well unless you wanna wait until tomorrow after our first date"

"First date? Are you asking me out?"

"So what if I am? You got a problem with it y/l/n?"

"Nope. No problem here. Well except for the fact that I'm all dirty and sweaty" I said running my fingers through his messy hair.

"Well that just won't do for my princess will it? Round 2 in the shower?" He questioned making me laugh.

"If you think you can make me cum again then yes" I laughed pulling him into a passionate kiss.

"Oh I know I can" He mumbled into my lips before lifting me off the counter. I giggled as he walked to the bathroom in the back of the trailer. The small confined space making me realize just how hot he actually was. It was. I balanced myself as he put me down to turn on the water. I began to set it at a warm temperature, Listening as Charlie stripped himself of the rest of his clothes from behind me.

"Your so beautiful" Charlie whispered wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

"Mmm you weren't saying that last week"

"I wasn't saying it but I was thinking it" He spoke as I felt something poking me from behind.

"You think about me?" I asked turning around to face him.

"A lot" He responded as I walked backwards. The warm water hitting me from above for a split second before my back hit the cold wall.

"Good" I responded as he pinned me up against the wall.

I huffed as his large hands grabbed me from behind my thighs. Wrapping my legs around his waist. Our make out session getting more heated by the second. Pulling him closer wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of me.

He was quick to line himself up to my entrance. Entering me slowly.

"C-can I move?" He asked after a moment. I nodded thankful he let me adjust to his size.

Within seconds we both were a wreck as he pounded into me. A string of curse words leaving our lips as the warm water fell over us.

I moaned as he hit my g-spot. My legs becoming weaker the faster he moved. I felt familiar knot forming at the pit of my stomach as he let out a noise of disgruntlement.

"Fuck baby I'm almost there"

I nodded along. Not daring to attempt to form any words. Both of us reaching our climax one after the other.

"We should do this again sometime. You know after our date" He grinned placing me down gently.

"I agree" I spoke moving under the water. I sighed contently as his arms wrapped around me from behind. His lips grazing my skin as he place chaste kisses upon it. A small smile forming on my face.

As much as this was the end of our little feud it also a new beginning to a new relationship.

————

Up Next: Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Sacha Carlson x Reader

Booboo Stewart x Reader

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